#quinn hughes oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tkwrites · 14 days ago

Text

Hurt & Healing - Quinn Hughes x OFC

(Really, this whole gif set fits the mood for this fic)

Title: Hurt & Healing - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: When Quinn loses his temper and snaps at Sarah after a hard loss, she draws a previously discussed boundary. Upon realizing something definitely has to change, Quinn seeks out comfort and advice from his mom. The next morning, he and Sarah talk about why she’s so upset and what they both can do to make the situation better.

Warnings: Highly emotional angst, swearing, slightly suggestive at the end. Quinn going to his parents for advice/help, intense discussions. Though the title makes it feel this way, it’s not really a hurt/comfort fic. It’s more of a hurt/lets talk it out and figure out how we can both be better fic.

Word Count: 6,000

Comments: I live! This piece has been eating at me for almost six months, and I’m so happy to share it with you all. I had it mostly done for quite a while but kept getting pulled into working on other things. Then, life happened.

I know it’s taken me so long to post a new snapshot, but I’m so excited for you to read it.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing.

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too. More snapshots here.

Asks related to this piece can be found under the Quinn & Sarah Snapshots hashtag (there are too many, and they're too long to include in this post).

Hurt & Healing

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“I can’t Sarah, okay?” Quinn snapped.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were wrong. It wasn’t even this particular order of them. Strung together in this same way but spoken in a gentler tone, no one would have blinked an eye.

As it was, with his voice so sharp, clipped and loud, she took a step back, expressions of disappointment, hurt and even a brief flash of fear flitted over her face as a sheen of tears pooled in her eyes, reflecting the city lights shining through the windows.

Fuck, they’d talked about this. Why couldn't he get his shit together?

Instantly, regret gnawed at him, and the gusto dropped from his voice, “Sarah, I’m sorry.”

Pursing her lips, she shook her head and turned away.

He watched her ascend the metal and glass stairs, her socked feet hardly making any noise, feeling totally helpless.

When she disappeared from sight, he covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” On top of a terrible game, now he’d lost it and shot himself in the foot at home. Again.

Well, there was only one thing for it.

Feeling like his feet were encased in cement, he dragged himself up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the bedroom door closed. What he didn’t expect was to find it locked when he tried the handle.

“Sarah?”

Even though he could hear her moving on the other side, she didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resting his forehead against the cool wood. “Please can I come in?”

“No.” Despite trying to sound convincing, Sarah still heard her voice wobble.

Resigned, Quinn tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat as he reset his mental expectations to sleeping in the guest room.

She’d told him this would be the consequence. After he’d snapped at her the third time, she’d sat him down to talk. She told him she understood why he was upset, but she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his anger.

He’d agreed right away and apologized profusely. He promised her it wouldn’t happen again. She told him she wanted to believe him and then told him what the consequences would be if this particular set of circumstances repeated themselves. Mainly that Sarah would likely pull away from him for a while.

He just hadn’t believed she would have to go through with it. He’d been certain it wouldn’t happen again. He loved Sarah and never wanted to see her hurt. She didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his frustration. Especially when what he was really mad at were the circumstances, and not anyone in particular, especially not her.

“Could you at least hand me some pajamas?”

“There are clean clothes in the laundry.” It was a rude, harsh thing to say, but she didn’t feel much like being nice at the moment. It’s not like he’d tried to be nice to her. Not really. He hadn’t even made it five minutes.

She’d watched the game and saw how dejected he was at the end. How he’d sat at the end of the bench much longer than anyone else, staring at the sheet of ice as if it somehow might tell him what had gone wrong. She’d made her way home and changed, readying herself to comfort him after his grueling media duties — forced to relive the loss and the reality of an unhealthy roster over and over and over again. She planned to meet him with a bottle of gatorade, open arms, and whatever comfort show he wanted to watch as she held him.

Instead he’d snapped at her. And it had felt like a punch to the gut. She’d actually thought he’d been listening, that he’d been taking steps to change.

The reality of his failure twisted like a knife.

Oh, he’d really fucked this one.

“Sarah,” he tried one last time, voice suddenly thick with unshed tears. His hands floated up to press into the door as if she might be on the other side, mimicking his motions, longing to touch him as much as he was longing to touch her. “I'm really sorry. I know you were counting on me, and I let you down.”

She sighed, feeling like they were going around in circles. These were nearly the same words he’d used the week before. “Quinn, we can’t keep doing this.”

“I know.” Her words sent panic spiking in his chest. Please, no. She couldn’t be done. He didn’t know what he’d do if she broke up with him. Life was hard enough right now. He couldn’t lose her on top of everything else. “I can do so much better. I promise I'll be better. Please let me in.”

Please, please, please.

Rooted to her spot several steps back from the door, Sarah put a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her crying. He sounded so hurt, so disappointed in himself. She never wanted him to be in pain, but that didn’t negate the reality that she needed to stand her ground. They’d talked about this, and still, as soon as the next bad game happened – which, as usual, wasn’t his fault – he was bringing it home with him. Their talks obviously weren’t working. So, like a disobedient child, he needed to be put in time out to think about what he’d done. Even if it broke her heart, too.

Jenny had warned her how hard keeping a boundary would be at first. “In the long run, though,” she’d said at their last session, “it’s the best way to make sure he understands he can’t hurt you like this again.”

Her silence had anxiety taking hold of his mind, and his voice broke when he said her name. “Sarah?”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning, Q.”

Hands slipping from the door, Quinn stood there, leaning on it for a minute longer until he heard Sarah’s soft footsteps retreat toward the bed. Looking back, he supposed he should have been relieved she was already thinking about the morning, but in the moment, it felt like a punch to the gut. The last thing he wanted right now was to spend the night away from her.

He wanted to punch a wall, he was so stupid. He wanted to run through reps of any exercise until the pain of this went away. He wanted anything to distract himself, but he’d been alive long enough to know that would only prolong the situation. And the last thing he wanted was to make this pain persist any longer. It was time for him to man up about it.

Flopping onto the (not so) lucky couch, he pulled out his phone and called the only person he thought could help.

It was too late to be calling, nearly two in the morning where they were, but she answered anyway, just like he’d hoped she would.

“Hello?” her words were slightly slurred with sleep.

“Hey mom,” he said, emotion flooding his voice at the sound of hers.

“Quinn? what’s wrong?” Though her mind was fuzzy, Ellen immediately sat up, dusting away the last cobwebs of sleep. The panic of being called in the night by a distressed child rung her heart. Even after 25 years, it never got any easier.

“I think I fucked it.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked as she reached over to flip on the bedside lamp. He’d had a rough game, but those weren’t usually grounds for middle of the night phone calls. Especially not to her.

Quinn tipped his head back and blinked, trying not to cry. Fuck it. His mom had seen him cry before. Tears slipped into the hair at his temples. “I think I fucked it,” he repeated, before adding the worst, most painful, gut wrenching part, “with Sarah.”

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she asked, to mask the gasp that crawled up her throat. It wasn’t that she thought Quinn and Sarah would never fight. She knew all too well what it took to make a relationship work, but she thought this call would be a lot less dramatic when it came.

“We had a fight.”

Jim rolled over and blinked a few times. “It’s Quinn. He and Sarah had a fight,” she whispered before speaking into the phone again, “What kind of a fight?”

Jim blinked himself awake, remembering those first scary arguments with Ellen, when he thought he was going to lose her, and worried he might somehow lose himself, too.

“We –” No, that wasn't right, This was his fault. “I snapped at her,” he confessed.

“Okay,” her voice was hesitant and confused in his ear.

He'd have to confess all of it. She couldn’t help solve the problem if she didn’t know everything. “It's happened before.”

“The snapping?”

Jim pursed his lips. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He gestured to the phone.

Ellen nodded, reluctantly putting it on speaker so he could hear and offer advice, too. As much as she wanted to be the hero, she knew Jim would have some good insight into the situation.

“Yeah. We talked about it last week. I snapped after that San Jose loss, and she told me she didn't deserve that.”

At least they both could agree on that.

“She told me it couldn't happen anymore. That I…” his voice broke, “that I couldn't take my frustration out on her.”

“I think that's very fair and warranted,” Ellen said, trying to gauge where they were in this story.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But tonight,” his throat constricted with the memory, and he had to clear it. “I snapped again tonight. I was just so frustrated from the loss, and…” he trailed off, knowing it was no excuse.

“Hmm.”

“And she locked me out.”

“Of the house?”

“No. Out of our room.”

“I'm guessing it happened before San Jose, too?” she ventured. Sarah was too level headed for this to be the reaction to it only happening once before.

“Yeah.” It came out a resigned sigh. She knew him too well.

“Quinn,” she admonished, not quite able to hide the disappointment in her voice.

“I know.”

“Quinn?” Jim broke in, his voice far more gentle than he was used to.

“Hey dad.” It felt somehow worse that his dad was hearing this.

“You need to find some way to let that frustration out before you go home. I used to scream on my drive sometimes. I know Bobby used to stop at the gym and run a mile on bad game nights.”

“Your dad snapped at me sometimes,” Ellen said, looking at Jim. He gave her a chagrined, guilty smile. “And I know hockey. I've played. I know that frustration when things don’t go your way, or the team doesn’t play their best first hand. It hurt me, but I knew the reason why and I could talk to him about it. I can't imagine what it's like for Sarah without that background. I know she golfs, but it’s not quite the same when you’re not on a team.”

The more they talked the guiltier and more hopeless he felt. “What do I do?”

“Well, you've got to apologize.”

“I did that.”

“No, I mean really apologize,” Ellen clarified. “An apology is acknowledging exactly what you did wrong and not doing it again.”

“Tell her what you're going to try to make sure you don't bring it home,” Jim suggested

“And don't do any big gestures,” Ellen said. “I know it can feel like a romantic thing, but I don't think Sarah likes things like that.”

He knew she didn't. She wanted real, measurable change and a real, honest conversation. It's a product of the dead parents. Life's too short to not have the conversation.

“What if she…” he broke off, too scared to say it out loud.

“Everything I know about Sarah tells me she’s not a quitter,” Ellen said, reading right through his subtext. “Just explain what you're going to do and then do it.”

“Give her some action items,” Jim added on. “And tell her you’re sorry.”

“Ask her why it's so upsetting to her,” Ellen suggested.

“I know why.”

“Quinn,” she admonished.

He shut up.

“You need to ask her how it made her feel. As much as it may feel like you do, you don’t know everything about her. You haven’t even been dating a whole year, bud.”

“It’s never a good idea to assume you know everything about her,” Jim said. “Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way.”

He and Ellen shared a nostalgic smile, and he knew they were both remembering the first few years of their relationship where he’d really learned the meaning of the phrase, ‘when you assume, it makes an ass out of you and me.’

“Sarah doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl that holds a grudge.”

“No,” Quinn agreed.

“You haven't been calling me on your drives home,” Jim said. He’d been hesitant to bring it up before when he wondered why Quinn had stopped. It seemed so out of character for him.

“Yeah.” He thought talking with Sarah was enough. Maybe he needed both.

“I'm happy to talk it out,” he said. “If you need to get some things off your chest.”

“Thanks dad. I think I do.”

“I’m happy to talk through anything, too,” Ellen added. She knew Quinn didn’t always want to talk shop with her, but they talked about other things. “Relationships are hard, Q. You have to learn and grow together. If you don’t, it’ll never last.”

These were things Quinn knew in the logical part of his brain, but experiencing it first hand was something totally different.

“I know Sarah doesn’t tolerate bullshit,” his mom said, her voice soft as though she was trying to be gentle with the harsh statement, “and I know that’s one of the things you love about her.”

Was he really that transparent?

“But that means she’s not willing to tolerate your bullshit, either.”

It was this - this concise razor of a summary that cut him deepest. He did love that Sarah didn’t tolerate subpar things in her life. She was exceptional, and if someone or something wasn’t meeting the standard she set, she wouldn’t hesitate to turn away from them. He just never thought he’d fall into that category.

“So you’re going to have to grow. Learn how to better communicate your needs. Including if you need some time to yourself to process.”

“Okay.”

A pocket of quiet passed over the phone line, and he heard his mom yawn. A fountain of gratitude gushed in his chest for her and for his dad. He did feel better after confessing and hearing that his parents dealt with these same things and still had a happy life together.

“Thanks for answering, mom,” he said, emotion shaking his voice again.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, picking up the phone and taking it off speaker. It was a selfish move on her part. She knew that. But it was so rare for her boys to call her, to reach out to her first, that she wanted to savor this one as her own.“I'll help whenever I can. I love you.” It wasn't often that her boys needed her now. She would take the chance whenever it was given.

“I love you, too, mom.” Worry and gratitude were still thick in his chest, but it felt a little easier to bear, a little more like something he could handle.

“Are you going to be okay?”

He sighed a deep breath through his nose, “I think so. I'll talk to Sar in the morning.” At least he had a game plan. Or the start of one.

“I’m glad you called, bud.”

“Thanks mom. I'm glad you answered.”

“Anytime. Love you, Quinn.”

“Love you too, mom. Thanks.”

“Of course. Good night, bud.”

“Night, mom.”

Keeping the phone pressed to her ear, Ellen waited until the line went dead before lowering it back into her lap. Only then did she glance at Jim.

Just as she expected, his arms were crossed over his chest, a slight pout to his lips.

“They hardly ever call me anymore,” she reminded, reaching over to soothe the pad of her thumb over the furrow in his brow.

His shoulders slumped almost immediately. “I know,” he said, resigned as his arms unwound. He knew feeling like she took the conversation away when Quinn had called her in the first place was selfish. He was just so used to being the one Quinn called to solve problems. When he allowed himself to think about it objectively, he knew Ellen was the better of the two of them to give advice on this particular matter.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

A chuckle fell from her lips. “That sounded like it hurt. Are you okay?”

Jim laughed good naturedly, “Yeah. Come on, let’s go back to sleep.”

Ellen flipped off the lamp and settled back into bed.

“You’re a good mom,” he said, one of his big hands pressing steadily into her back.

She fell back to sleep, hoping everything would be okay.

The next morning, Sarah cut her routine short, only brushing her teeth instead of doing her usual shower and skincare. She didn’t want to put off talking to Quinn any longer than she had to.

Walking through the upstairs, she wondered where he was. He hadn’t been in the guest bedroom - in fact, it didn’t look like he'd gone in that room at all other than to take a pillow from the bed. He wasn’t on the couch, either. Though the hasty way her favorite blanket was strewn over the back of it suggested that’s where he’d spent the night.

He didn’t have practice until 10. And it was only eight-thirty. She’d been a little harsh the night before, but she didn’t think he’d been upset enough to leave. He hadn't yelled or stormed out in a huff. Plus, Quinn wasn't one to run away from his problems. He usually preferred to face them head on, in the most efficient way possible.

Thoughts were still racing through her mind when her eyes caught on his face. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding two mugs of coffee, a hopeful, unsure quirk to his lips.

Heart hammering in his chest, Quinn watched Sarah descend the stairs. God, even right after waking up, she was still beautiful. Her hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head, and she was wearing one of his hoodies. The sight of her in his clothes turned his heart into a delicate, flighty bird, fluttering inside his chest.

Most of his night was spent restlessly tossing and turning on the couch. After he'd dug some clothes out of the laundry and changed, he'd gone into the guest room. It felt too unfriendly with its new sheets and bedding that Sarah had never slept in. There was no way he could sleep in there. Instead, he'd filched one of the pillows and gone back to the lucky couch. That, at least housed good memories, and he'd napped on it more than once. It was practically the size of a bed anyway.

Anytime he'd managed to fall asleep, anxiety over what was going to happen in the morning jolted him awake. It was only after he retrieved her favorite blanket from the gaming room that he managed to fall asleep. Its familiar weight and the lingering ghost of her perfume surrounded him in a comforting cocoon.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asked, willing his voice to be calm and smooth. The words still felt too rushed, too harsh in his mouth. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. The potential for this conversation to end badly swirled in his mind.

“Okay,” she said hesitantly as she stepped off the bottom stair. Quinn was watching her, his expression unreadable. One second he seemed guarded, the next, full of hope. None of them stuck around long enough for her to fully decipher how he was feeling.

Following him to the living room, she took the seat across from him on the leather sofa rather than her customary one in the club chair next to his. The gesture told him more about how she was feeling than anything else.

When she looked down at the mug he slid across the coffee table to her, she kept her expression guarded. A cup of coffee was a sweet gesture, but surely, he didn’t think this would solve their issues.

“Let me know if I put too much creamer in there,” he said, almost wincing at how nervous he sounded. He hadn’t felt this nervous around Sarah in months. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this nervous around Sarah. “I tried to get the right color, but I’m not sure I did.”

The smile that ghosted over her lips made his sappy, hopeful heart slam itself into his ribs.

She took a sip and couldn’t stop the grimace that took over her mouth.

“Too much?” he asked, regret stabbing his stomach. He couldn’t even get her morning coffee right.

He’d woken up long before she did, and upon realizing he was staring longingly at their bedroom door as if it might unlock by the sheer force of his will, he went down to the kitchen. Thirty minutes passed before he heard her moving around. When he heard the water in the bathroom shut off, he knew she was finished washing her face and would be down soon. It was then that he’d brewed them each a cup. Breakfast seemed like it might be too big of a gesture, but her morning cup of coffee felt right.

Seeing the despairing look on his face, she almost didn’t say anything. But there was no way she could force herself into drinking this. “Not quite enough,” she admitted finally. “It’s a little bitter.”

“Oh,” Relief swept through him. At least he didn’t have to brew her another cup. “I’ll get the creamer.”

He jumped to his feet as if his chair had shocked him, and Sarah admired his muscular calves as he jogged to the kitchen. He’d dug some Canucks shorts out of the clean laundry Sandra had returned the day before.

Handing it to her, he sat down again and watched her pour another dollop into her mug.

She took a sip, and the corners of her mouth tipped up in satisfaction.

“So, we can talk?” he asked, leaning to catch her eye.

“Of course.” She was never going to tell him they couldn’t talk. Though now, she worried her reaction last night may have been too strong. Maybe she’d been too harsh on him.

“I —” Quinn paused, not quite sure where to start. He supposed he should start by taking his moms advice. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Snapping out of her own thoughts, Sarah’s eyes darted from her mug of coffee up to his face. He wore an anguished expression she usually only saw when he misfired a pass or didn’t get a goal he thought he should have.

“I know we talked about me not snapping at you - about not taking my frustration out on you, and I did it anyway, and I’m really sorry.”

Part of her wanted to tell him it was okay just to get that pained look off of his face. But it wasn’t okay.

“Thank you,” she said instead.

“I’m sorry I let you down.”

A weight settled in her chest. What could she say to that? This was always the worst part about having conversations like this. She didn’t want him to be upset, but she also knew she deserved to get her needs met. It was a strange balance to strike, and she felt like she was always missing the mark.

“Quinn,” she said, her voice gentle. It was soothing to his ears, like maybe he hadn’t completely fucked himself over. “I —”

He was looking at her with all this hope in his eyes, and as much as she wanted to nurture it, she knew in the long run, coddling wouldn’t help. If this relationship was going to work, things needed to change.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to find the right balance between firm and loving. She thought about how her mom used to correct her. Even though it had happened often when she was a teen, Sarah had never not felt loved by her.

In the end, she decided truth was the best course of action. “You did let me down.”

The hope crashed from his eyes, and she bit back her instinct to take it back. She hated having to make him feel this way.

He’d known it was the truth, but hearing it from her mouth hurt more. It hit hard, knocking the wind out of him. “I’m sorry.” The words came out flighty, breathy things. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I’m really sorry, Sarah.”

“I know you’re sorry, but you really hurt me, Quinn, and I’m not really sure you understand why.”

He gulped and ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing the curls back. “Can you tell me?”

In past relationships, when her exes asked for her to be honest, it often ended up being thrown back in her face. Her expectations were too high or unrealistic, or “this is just the way I am, Sarah.” As soon as these conversations happened in the past, she knew it was time to move on. Fear of hearing this response again bubbled in her stomach. She really didn’t want to have to move on from Quinn.

“Please. I need to know so I can get better.”

That was new.

Reminding herself that Quinn had proved again and again that he was nothing like her exes, she went ahead, figuring she may as well lay it all out. He’d proved her wrong so many times, she hoped he was about to do it again. “I was ready to listen and cuddle and hold you,” Sarah said, “and instead, you threw it back in my face like you didn’t even care.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t throw anything in her face, then remembered his moms admonishment. You don’t know everything about her as much as it may feel like you do. “What do you mean?”

Sarah just looked at him.

“I don’t know what you mean by I threw it back in your face,” he admitted.

“I mean that I was trying to comfort you, and you just exploded,” she said. Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. “I understand you might need something different, but I can’t know what you don’t tell me. And getting mad when I do it wrong doesn’t help anything.”

His heart cracked in half. Instinctually, he abandoned his seat, and the coffee that had long gone lukewarm in front of it, to sit next to her on the sofa. He was insanely grateful when she didn’t lean back or move away. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sarah.”

“Then…” she was so confused, “why were you mad?”

His mom was right. She just didn’t understand.

“I was mad about the game.”

“Right, but then you got mad at me.”

“I –” he cut himself off to gather his thoughts. God, how did he explain this? “I was so frustrated about the game, and then I came home and I thought… I thought you wanted me to do more, and I just - I lost my temper, and snapped, and I’m sorry.”

“You thought I wanted you to do more by asking you to cuddle?”

“I know it sounds stupid.”

“No,” she cut that thought off. Him brushing off his feelings to make her more comfortable wouldn’t get them anywhere. “Tell me why you thought I wanted you to do more.”

He closed his eyes. He never wanted to tell Sarah she was wrong. But she was also asking.

“I came in and you started giving orders,” he explained, “you just started going into ‘go get changed, and get us a blanket and pick out something to watch,’ and I just couldn’t.” Now that he was saying it out loud, he realized how much her requests had affected him.

“Oh,” her face fell. “Quinn, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you needed to do those things right then or that you needed to make all those decisions. I just wanted to let you know I was here for you.”

“No, you did, it just…wasn’t what I needed.”

“Quinn, I’m sorry.” Her eyes met his, and he could see guilty tears shining in them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. This was supposed to be him apologizing. “I shouldn’t have brought my frustration home. I was talking with my parents last night and –”

“Is that why your mom texted me this morning asking how I was?”

“I don’t – I mean, I guess so.”

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, I interrupted.”

“It’s okay,” he couldn’t remember what he’d been saying.

“You were talking with your parents,” she prompted.

“Right. I was talking with them last night, and I realized I haven’t been calling my dad after games.”

“Okay.”

“I used to call him after every game, especially the bad ones, to talk through stuff.”

“Why did you stop?”

“I had you,” he said. “We would talk, and you would hold me, and I'd feel better.” Sarah waited for him to continue, so he did, “but I think I might need both.”

The way he said it made it sound like he shouldn't.

“Quinn”, she said as gently as she could, reaching forward to cup his face. He leaned into her touch. “Of course you need both.”

His gaze shot to hers, surprised.

“I’d never expect to fulfill all of your needs. ‘It takes a village’ isn't just something people say about raising kids. It's for everyone. You need a whole village of people around you. We’re not meant to be islands.”

Her thumb stroked over his cheek, and something in his chest knitted back together.

“I don't understand hockey the way your parents or your brothers do. Of course you should talk to them about it.”

He sighed, nodding. “I realized after we hung up last night that talking with dad really helped me sort through those feelings, and when I stopped, it…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “it’s like they just built up.”

Sarah let out an understanding sigh, “Jenny tells me all the time that when we don’t address our emotions, they come out sideways.”

“I’m sorry my sideways meant all over you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her mouth, “I’m just glad you figured out what was going on.”

“Me too,” he said, relieved.

An almost comfortable pause settled into their conversation. Her hand was still on his face, and though her fingers were cold, he never wanted her to pull away.

“So, now that you know what’s going on, what are we going to do about it?” she asked.

“We?” he repeated. The use of the word in that statement wasn’t lost on him. It amazed him she was still willing to work with him on their relationship, even when he’d fucked up so bad.

Something in her face softened, “there are two of us in this, Quinn. If it’s going to work, we have to work together.”

“Well, I’m going to talk to my dad after games,” he said. “That might mean I get home a little later.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “that’s not a big deal.”

Having his needs accepted and supported so readily made Quinn’s heart skip in his chest. A feeling of calm spread all the way to his fingers, which he laced with hers.

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

Quinn’s eyes flicked from their joined hands up to her face, “anything.” He meant it. Sleeping on the couch had been torture when he knew he was there because he’d hurt her. He never wanted to be in that position again.

Even more than from his guilt, though, he wanted to be better because she was responding in a way he’d never experienced before. With June, an argument like this would have ended with her storming out of the house, yelling that it was over, only for her to come back a few days later, wanting to try again. Sarah’s loving, steady response made him want to change, made him want to be better.

“If you want something different than what I’m suggesting, you need to tell me. I’m not a mind reader.”

Cringing at himself internally, he nodded. “I can try.”

It was better than nothing, but it wasn’t the response Sarah had been hoping for.

Her feelings must have shown on her face because he jumped to explain, voice squeaking as his words tumbled over each other, “it’s just that sometimes after games —” he cut himself off. He shouldn’t be asking her for things. This was supposed to be his apology, his commitment to change.

“After games?” she encouraged.

Well, he was in this deep, he might as well just say it. “Sometimes after a rough game, I’m just��tired,” he admitted. She looked confused, so he continued, “when I lived by myself, I usually just got in bed and read whatever book I was in because it meant I didn’t have to make any decisions.”

“I wish you’d told me this before,” she said, raising her head and looking into his eyes. It struck her how green they were. Usually, they looked mostly hazel. Today, they reminded her of the leaves on her grandmas beechwood tree.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed, pulling himself a little closer with their clasped hands.

She shook her head a little, not so much to dismiss the apology as to end the topic. “So should I wait for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“After a bad game, do you want me to wait for you to make that call, or should I just keep doing what I was doing when you get home and you can tell me if you’d rather do something different?”

“I like the second,” he said.

“Okay,” she nodded, feeling more settled. “You talk to your dad or whoever about the game, and when you're ready to just relax, I'll be here.”

“What if I need to burn off some steam?” He meant for it to be a joke, but it came out serious instead.

Her lips pursed, then relaxed. Longing sparked in his stomach. God, he wanted to kiss her every time she did that.

“I don't think it'd be wise of me to say I'll always be down, but when I am, of course I'm happy to help you burn off that steam.” It didn't hurt that when he was riled up like that, it meant he was hellbent on making her orgasm – usually more than once.

“You just have to tell me what you want.”

He nodded. When he was with June, he got so used to pushing his wants and needs aside in an effort to keep her happy. It felt almost strange, even after nine months with Sarah, to express his needs and to have her take them into consideration so readily.

After a few minutes of comfortable quiet, Sarah asked, “don't you have practice?”

He shook his head as his eyes fluttered open, “I messaged Tocc to tell him I couldn’t make it today. Told him I fucked something up at home and needed to make it right.”

“Oh.”

Seeing her bottom lip begin to shake, Quinn’s stomach lurched. Did she not know? He supposed he aught to tell her, just like his mom said. “Sarah, I love you,” he said, his free hand coming up to slide around the back of her neck, “You’re my top priority. I'm sorry if I made it seem otherwise.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling emotion choke her voice. This more than anything else they'd talked about that morning told her how he was feeling and where his priorities were.

Leaning closer, he rested his forehead against hers, “I love you so much, Sar,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too, Quinn.”

Hearing it banished the last of his doubt. “I promise I won’t bring my frustration home.”

That wasn’t going to help anything. “You can bring it home, Quinn. You just can’t throw it up all over me. I know you’re going to have bad days. I am, too. This,” she gestured between them to indicate the conversation, “is about what you do with it.”

He nodded, feeling emotion rock through him. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked. It was a question for the broader universe. He really had no idea.

“You’re just you,” she said, a smile gently tipping the corners of her mouth.

He only had to move slightly to slide his lips over hers.

She made a little noise that sounded about as relieved as he felt, and unable to help himself, Quinn pulled her into his lap.

The kiss was slow and loving. It wasn’t until Sarah slid her fingers into his hair and swept her tongue past his parted lips and trailed it along the roof of his mouth that it grew more passionate.

The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was only focused on sex, but he was so relieved, so incredibly relieved that she was even willing to kiss him, let alone be in his lap, that his dick popped right up.

She pulled away and glanced down.

“Sorry,” he said, cheeks blazing, “he's got a mind of his own. I spent the whole night scared you were going to break up with me, so he's just rejoicing over the fact that you didn’t.”

He wanted to bottle the giggle she let out as she leaned in to kiss him again.

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

281 notes · View notes

quintinh43 · 11 months ago

Text

3 Times Quinn Almost Proposed + 1 Time He Actually Did

The best decision Quinn ever made was you. From the second he stumbled into that Cafe with his parents, to moving in with you, to admitting he loved you and everything else in between. It was a no-brainer that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. And there was no doubt in his mind that you felt the same way.

"I can't believe you're proposing," Jack said, tapping his fingers against the center console of Quinn's car. He never could sit still, and sometimes it grated on Quinn's nerves.

"Why? Do you think it's too early?" Quinn asks anxiously, running his tongue against his lips.

Luke pitches forward from the back seat to share his input, "You've been dating for like what? Five?" He asks, doing some quick math on his fingers.

Quinn nods, "Since March,"

"Ya know, we still haven't forgiven you for not telling us immediately," Jack huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If it's any consolation, you are the first people I wanted to tell," Quinn says placatingly.

"Quinner, go easy on our uneducated brother, he doesn't know what the word consolation means," Luke says seriously.

Quinn snorts a laugh as Jack turns around to swat Luke on the head. "I have a bigger vocabulary than you dumbass!"

Before the two of them can escalate into a full-blown bickering match, Quinn interrupts, "Back to my problem, guys! Do you think it's too early to propose?" His fingers tap nervously on the steering wheel as he navigates to the jewellery store.

"There's no proper timeline when it comes to proposing Quinny, it comes down to when you are ready and you feel like it's the right time in your relationship," Jack says.

"I mean, you already knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Y/n, so this is just taking the next step towards that, isn't it?" Luke adds, adjusting his Devils Hockey cap over his curls.

"When did you two become so wise?" Quinn grumbles as he pulls into the parking lot.

"We've always been wise beyond our years," Luke says puffing his chest out. Jack flicks his cap off his head, rolling his eyes.

"Sure Lukey," Quinn snorts, running a hand through his hair.

"Alright boys, let's get this done." Jack claps, practically jumping out of the car.

It wasn't hard at all. Quinn chose a shop where he could completely customize the ring, and with access to your Pinterest board and all the rings that you already own, he knew almost exactly how he wanted it to look. The only thing he was nervous about was whether or not you would like it.

"Don't overthink it too much Quinn, you know her better than you know yourself," Jack squeezes his shoulder comfortingly.

"You could propose with a ring pop, and she would treasure it for the rest of her life," Luke adds, with a roll of his eyes.

The three of them are in and out of the shop within an hour, and Quinn is smiling his ass off all the way home.

A week later, Quinn picks up the ring. It's even better than he imagined it would be in real life. As his car pulls into the driveway of the lakehouse, he sees you out front with his mom, helping her tend to her garden.

You kneel in the dirt, sunglasses perched on your nose, and a canucks cap on your head. Smiling and laughing with Ellen as you both pull weeds from the ground. Quinn's heart beats out of his chest with happiness, and he's struck with the urge to kneel in the dirt next to you and present the ring to you right then.

When you notice that he arrived, you grin widely, giving him a wave. There's dirt smudged across your nose and under your nails, and Quinn thinks the ring would be a lovely accessory to your mud-stained hands.

The outline of the ring box feels warm in his pocket as he approaches you and his mom, "Hi babe," he greets, dropping a kiss to the top of your head, and it takes everything in his bones not to get down on one knee and pull out the ring right now.

"Hi Mom," he says with a quiet smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes twinkle knowingly.

"Jack and Luke are napping upstairs, and the two of us are going to start lunch as soon as we're done this."

Quinn nods, "Lemme change and I'll come help you two," he runs up the stairs, tucks the ring box safely at the top of his closet and changes into shorts and a t-shirt to help you and his mom in the garden.

Quinn never expected to be the guy who obsessively walked around with his engagement ring in his pocket after he bought it. But here he was, on the boat, with the ring sitting in the glove compartment. Which you had complete access to.

Jack had called him an idiot, stating that a number of things could've happened, from you finding the ring accidentally, or it falling into the water. Or maybe even a shark eating it. Luke was quick to call Jack an idiot, saying that there were no sharks in Lake Erie. Jack rolled his eyes and flicked Luke in the forehead saying it was to emphasize how stupid Quinn was being by bringing the ring with him onto the boat.

Quinn is currently in the driver's seat, you're on the wakeboard, and the rest of the boys are littered around the boat, whooping and cheering as you throw the rope and tip backwards into the water with a salute.

Trevor whistles low with admiration, "Wow, Mrs. Huggy is a professional,"

"She's not Mrs. Huggy yet, but she will be soon," Quinn mutters under his breath just as you climb the ladder back onto the boat.

It takes a minute for the words to register, but as soon as they do Trevor's jaw is on the floor. He stares back and forth between you and Quinn.

Jack, Quinn, and Luke wear various degrees of alarm on their faces, hoping and praying that you didn't hear anything.

"Damn, guys, was I that bad?" You laugh nervously, and you take in the looks on their faces. You unzip your life jacket and squeeze as much water out of your hair as you can.

"He-" Trevor starts pointing at Quinn, but before any words can actually leave his mouth, Jack is tipping Trevor over the edge of the boat and into the water.

You burst into laughter, and the boys seemingly return to normal as a soaking-wet Trevor climbs back into the boat, muttering obscenities under his breath. "Alright, who's next?"

"Me," Quinn says, desperate to get away from Trevor's pointed smirk, "You're driving," he says, pushing you gently into the driver seat where he was previously seated.

"Are you sure you want me to drive?" You ask skeptically, brow raised.

"O'course babe, there's no one I'd trust more." Quinn punctuated his sentence with a kiss on your cheek. Jack makes an offended noise, that sounds like a dying bird of some kind and you laugh at him.

Quinn rolls his eyes at him as he zips his life jacket and gets into the water for his turn on the wakeboard. He gives you a thumbs up, and parrots the movement, before slowly accelerating. You stand at the wheel of the boat, half twisted towards the back, so you can keep an eye on Quinn.

Quinn stands easily, and you smile accelerating a bit more. You turn in patterns that aren't too sharp but still make nice big waves for Quinn to ride. He's grinning like a madman. You maneuver the boat in a manner that gives him a wave to jump off of if he wants to.

He takes the opportunity, sailing through the air and managing a half spin before he hits the water. You drive around him in a slow circle as he resurfaces.

"That was fucking amazing! Where did you learn to drive a boat like that?" Trevor asks admiringly.

You shrug, cheeks heating under the praise, "My dad taught me," you say, crawling to the back of the boat and offering Quinn a hand as he climbs the ladder, "Been driving watercraft since I was like, twelve or something," you grin, squeaking as Quinn shakes his wet hair out in your direction, "You should see what I can do on a jet ski."

Jack whistles heartily, "We might have to take you up on that one of these days,"

"Sure, Jack, if you think you can handle getting your ass beat by a girl," you smirk. Jack scoffs offendedly, and Luke cackles from where he lies at the front of the boat.

Quinn is smiling so hard, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "I think we have to upgrade you to Captain for the summer, that was the best boat driving out of all of us," Quinn praises, pressing his lips to your hair.

"Seriously!" Jack says excitedly, scrambling for a life jacket, "That looked so fucking fun, no one can ever make waves like that! I'm next." He says jumping in the water before anyone can protest.

"Don't let this one get away Quinner," Luke says, tipping his hat in your direction, "Or I'll take her from you," he throws an over-exaggerated wink in your direction, you giggle and Quinn rolls his eyes. As if the shithead wasn't with him when he bought the ring.

Quinn eyes the glove compartment, where the ring is stored, and thoroughly debates how proposing right now would play out. A sharp whistle from Jack pulls him from his thoughts, and he takes his spot at the back of the boat as Jack spotter.

You resume your place in the driver's seat, and for the rest of the evening, that's where you stay.

Quinn almost has a heart attack when he sees you reach for the glove compartment, but Luke manages to fake trip into you just in time so that Jack can sneakily snag the box and relocate it to one of the other boat compartments.

The house is completely full, with a bunch of the boy's friends who are visiting. Everyone is camped out around the fire pit, nursing beers and laughing loudly. You are curled up in Quinn's lap, head pillowed on his chest while you listen to all of the boys talk about their fondest memories.

You play with the strings of Quinn's hoodie, while he absent-mindedly traces patterns on your arm. His chest rumbles with laughter and his arm tightens around you, as Jack tells a story from when they played together for Team USA. An overwhelming wave of gratitude washes over you. You're grateful for everything in life, and most of all Quinn.

"You're quiet tonight," His lips are pressed against the side of your head, and the comforting baritone of his voice soothes your soul, "doing ok?"

You nod, bringing your fingers up to trace his jaw, "just thinking,"

"Penny for your thoughts?" He speaks low, his words only for your ears, the crackling of the fire, and hearty laughter fade into the background and at this moment it's as if you and Quinn are the only two people who exist.

He was a way of doing that. Making everything else disappear and making you feel like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm so grateful for everything," you answer quietly, "especially for you. Getting to experience life with you, being able to support you, having you there to support me- and just everything that you do and have done for me. You know?"

Quinn's heart swells so wide he thinks it might burst out of his chest. Before he really knows what he's doing, he's slipping out of the chair and kneeling in front of you. You huff because you were enjoying being curled into him.

His hands are on your thighs, and your hands cup his cheeks, thumbs tracing over his cheekbones. Neither of you has noticed that the laughter has died out, and everyone is watching the two of you. Their faces are a mixture of disgust and confusion.

Jack and Luke look downright horrified, sharing a look and exchanging silent words with their eyes.

"Will you m-" Before Quinn can complete his question, Luke is scrambling out of the lawn chair that he and Duker are curled up in and tackling Quinn to the floor.

"BEE!" Jack screeches, adding to the dramatics as he stands on his chair and points in the direction of where Quinn and Luke lay in the grass, "THERE'S A FUCKING BEE!"

There was no bee.

At Jack's distressed yelling, half of the boys are out of their chairs, running around and swatting at the heads of the non-existent bee.

You hold your stomach, laughing at the general chaos. It shouldn't be as funny as it is, but the sight of almost twenty grown men screaming about a bee is pretty hilarious.

"You are welcome you fucking numbskull," Luke hisses in Quinn's ear, as he helps him back up. Quinn gives him a sheepish smile of thanks. Were it not for his brother's antics, he would've regretted that being how he proposed for the rest of his life.

Once the general chaos dies down and everyone is back in their chairs calmly, you speak up with a smirk on your face, "You guys do know Bees are not nocturnal right?"

Quinn looks pointedly at Jack like he's an idiot. As if Quinn has the right to call him an idiot when he almost proposed to the love of his life in front of twenty hockey boys around a campfire on a Tuesday night.

"How do you know that?" Jack asks, crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.

"Yeah," Trevor scoffs, "Seems untrue,"

You snort, taking a sip of your beer, "I'm an elementary school teacher, dumbass, the science unit about bugs is practically ingrained in my brain. Bees are definitely not nocturnal."

"Nope, there definitely was a bee," Luke chimes, "I literally saved Quinn's life."

"Yeah, I saw it too," Dylan adds with a nod.

"It was basically the size of Quinn's head," Cole adds, "really Y/n/n I don't know how you didn't see it," Cole says matter-of-factly.

"I can't believe you guys are trying to gaslight me about bees right now," you snort, nuzzling further into Quinn's warmth.

"I heard it buzzing in my ear, babe," Quinn says seriously.

You roll your eyes at him and tuck your head under his chin and he wraps his arms around you securely, pressing a kiss to your hair, while you argue with the guys about Bees for the next half-an-hour.

+ 1

Quinn slips out of the bedroom to let you finish changing, he pads down the stairs to where his family waits in the kitchen. Jack presents him the ring box, that he had decided to keep with him after the boat incident. Quinn tucks it into his pocket with a deep breath.

"You ready Quinner?" Luke asks, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"Yeah," Quinn nods, breathing deeply.

"She's gonna say yes," Jack reassures, giving Quinn a pat on the back.

"I hope so," Quinn says nervously.

His dad chuckles, "Don't worry kid, you're doing great compared to how nervous I was when I was proposing to your mother,"

Ellen laughs fondly, "It's true, he was so nervous he forgot to pull out the ring, and then when he finally did, he dropped it."

Jim rolls his eyes, but the smile stays. Quinn laughs at that, then all his anxieties are bubbling to the surface and spilling past his lips before he can stop them.

"What if she doesn't like the ring? What if she says no, and she thinks it is too soon? What if I fall on my face? What if I lose the ring? What if-"

Jack squishes his cheeks together to keep him from talking. He tips his forehead against Quinn's staring deep into his eyes. "Breathe with me, Quinn,"

Jack takes exaggerated breaths, and Quinn follows his lead. Jim and Ellen quietly slip out of the room, leaving the brothers to themselves.

Once Quinn's breathing returns to normal, Jack lets him go. "She loves you with her whole heart, Quinn. You have nothing to worry about," Luke says, bonking his head against Quinn’s affectionately.

"Thanks, guys," he murmurs, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

Everything goes smoothly in Quinn's opinion. Even when he practically forgot his whole speech. But if he had to do it again, he wouldn't change a thing.

Yeah so this ended up being like 2.9k words....

Anyways enjoy friends!

So it's basically a fic but lazy.

Part of This Universe

#quinn hughes #qh43 #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes x you #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl players #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #loving you is as easy as abc 123

936 notes · View notes

hugheshischier4313 · 5 months ago

Text

YOU MISS HIM DON’T YOU | Q. HUGHES

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x reader

Warnings: maybe emotional cheating?

Word count: 2k

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! I was rewatching desperate housewives and a certain scene encouraged me to write something similar. It was supposed to be a quick little Drabble/blurb but im at 10 pages now and still not done. So here’s a snippet :)

———————————————————————

Quinn had known about your boyfriend from the very beginning. He had seen you together, bringing boxes to the apartment beside his, and noticed you immediately. He wished he could say it had all been innocent, but the first thing he saw was how your legs looked in the tennis skirt you had been wearing. You bent down to pick up a fallen pillow as he exited his car in the parking garage. His eyes lingered on you, and he forced himself to turn away before you noticed. He swore he would offer to help you before he met eyes with Andrew as he stepped out of the parking garage elevator.

"I didn't mean to; it just happened. You were bent over, in a skirt, right outside my car; it was hard to look away when I didn't expect you to be there." Quinn had a slight pink tone to his features right now, and you were smiling, trying to suppress a laugh. You stood in the kitchen, pouring the margaritas into your cups.

"You mean the skirt I'm wearing right now? Is that why you mentioned it? Quinn, you could have kept that secret forever. I mean, you couldn't waterboard that information out of me." You were always more giggly when drinking, which was contagious to Quinn. "But since you didn't, I'm gonna use this against you for the foreseeable future." The laugh left you when you got back to Quinn's couch. "I'll try not to make any sudden movements that may catch you off guard," you teased as you stood before him and handed him his drink.

"It's not funny; I've felt bad about this for months." he tried to be serious, but the smile never left his face. As you nodded with a smirk on your lip, you turned from him after he grabbed the glass, "Y/N, I'm serious." He wasn't; he could never stay upset with you, even in a joking manner.

"I guess I'll just go back to my apartment then; I don't want to bring back any of your past shame." your body once again turned towards him as you leaned down over to hug him, "Bye, Hughes, I'll make sure to only wear this when you're out of town." He let out a sarcastic 'ha.' "You don't have to leave; I can control myself. I promise." he rolled his eyes and slowly got up to stop you.

"I don't know; I think the only logical answer is to wear your Drew sweats." You had pivoted and ran to his room before he could reply. You had bugged him countless times to try them on over the past months; you had just wanted to see if they were worth the hype because the black sweats had been sold out forever (and maybe, subconsciously, because of your past love for Justin Bieber). And every time he said no, you took this as your opportunity to try them and bug him simultaneously.

Being in Quinn's room was familiar to you. You had spent most days at one of the two apartments, and sometimes that meant laying in his bed watching TV after he had just returned from a string of away games or after a challenging game or practice. You had worn his clothes before, too; it was always in a platonic way, the first time you had locked yourself out after being out on a run when it started raining. You lost your key on the run, and the concierge was gone for the night. You had also spent the night; he let you sleep in his bed and took the couch.

As you ran into the room, you closed the door behind you and walked into the closet, closing that door, too. You had found the sweats and slowly walked out of the closet. There was no sight of Quinn, and the bedroom door was still closed. You walked towards the door, sweats in your hand, as you called out to him, "Q? Are you -" But you were cut off as he tackled you onto the bed next to you.

The two of you lay on the bed laughing before turning to face each other. The laughter died down, and you were smiling and looking at each other. The two of you lay there for a while, not saying anything until you broke the silence, "Your eyes are a different colour every time I see you, but today I can see every shade in them." You don't know why you needed to share your observation with him, but it felt right. "You cut your hair." He reached out to tuck a strand behind your ear and play with the end of another. His voice had been so him, soft yet dominant. It was true; you had gotten a slight trim the day before and a few longer layers at the bottom of your hair, a small and simple detail that could have been missed. In fact, he was the only person to notice; none of your classmates or even Andrew, although over Facetime, had noticed.

The room felt heavy as you looked from his hand in your hair to his eyes again, stopping to look at his lips for a second. And when you reached his gaze, it was unreadable. "I -" A phone began to ring as Quinn was about to speak. You could see a shift in his demeanour as you continued to look at him. He got up to find the cause of the sound. "It's your phone." He walked it over to you before heading out to the living room again. The phone illuminated ANDREW CALLING.

You looked towards the empty doorway as you brought the phone up to your ear. "Hey you," your playful voice sounded forced, and the smile on your lips was even more so. "Hey, I have a surprise for you. The notification said it was in the lobby." This shocked you, not only because it was a surprise but because Andrew was never one for small gestures. It was always something big like him ordering 4 dozen roses to your desk after your fourth date. But he had never just sent you or given you something randomly.

Andrew could be a sweet guy; you worked together before he asked you to have dinner with him. You knew you were moving and had no intention of starting anything serious before moving to Vancouver, but he had been so persistent, and it felt nice to have a distraction with all the craziness of moving. But living in different provinces has brought no comfort to either of you. It felt like pen pals most of the time. You would call him a few times a week and talk for an hour before he had to go. There had been a few times where you could have sworn you heard someone else there, but the times you mentioned it, it felt like the fight had been more trouble than the issue itself.

And maybe subconsciously, you felt like a hypocrite. Your relationship with Quinn was platonic, but the number of times you were confused as a couple in public could be seen another way. In fact, you hated to admit it, but it felt like you communicated more with Quinn when he was away than with your boyfriend.

"There's something for me in the lobby of my apartment complex? Andrew, what did you do? It's 7pm?" As you started talking, Quinn walked into view, bringing your drinks and extending to you. "It's a surprise; you should go get it now; I'm assuming it's just on the concierge desk based on the picture." You stared up at Quinn as you listened to Andrew, "Okay, I'll be down in a minute, and I'll call you back once I have it." The phone call was quickly over.

"What did you order?" Quinn asked with a smile, used to all the packages you've received. A few that had been too heavy for you to carry on your own that Quinn had taken himself. Even when they hadn't been too heavy, he would carry them for you if he was there. "I'm not sure, Andrew sent it to me." You could have sworn there was a look on his face that was gone as quickly as it appeared. "You want me to go with you in case you need help?" there was no hesitation in your quick reply of 'yes.'

As the two of you walked down the hall, you were overly aware of the distance between you. It was no different than it had been in the past, but there was a particular charge. The words shared and unshared in the bedroom hung heavy. "So I never got to even put the sweats on," you joked while waiting in front of the elevator. "You can borrow them when we get back up if you want," his answer made your breath hitch. He had never let you try them on, much less borrow them.

He looked at you, letting you walk into the elevator first. The ride down was quick and quiet, but how you looked at each other made everything race faster. Your heartbeat quickened as you saw his slight deviation towards your lips before making their way back up. "Quinn," your voice came out as a low plea; whether it was to continue or to stop was uncertain. He stepped closer to you as the two of you stood in silence for a brief moment before the doors opened. As you stepped out, your heart felt heavy.

As you made your way towards the front desk, you saw the back of a man at the desk, but when you heard the voice, it made you freeze. Andrew, he was in your lobby waiting for you, Quinn failed to notice your pause and ran into you. However, before you could tip forward, Quinn had steadied you with a hand on your arm and waist. Andrew called out when he turned around.

"Andrew! What are you doing here?" You didn't miss the look he gave the sight of the two of you or how his gaze only lingered on Quinn's hand on your waist as he walked closer. You unhooked yourself from Quinn to hug Andrew. The hug was stiff; he held himself higher, and his head hadn't moved from the position it had been in before. You figured he was still looking at Quinn.

"I wanted to surprise you; we settled a case earlier than expected, so I took a few days off." You had pulled yourself to his side, a view of both him and Quinn. They kept looking towards each other, completely ignoring you. "Well, Andrew, this is my friend I always tell you about, Quinn. He introduced himself the day I moved in, remember? He lives next door to me." Andrew smiled down at you as you continued. "Quinn, you remember Andrew." Quinn looked from you to Andrew before extending his hand. "Good to see you again, man." Andrew hesitated before shaking his hand.

There was a quick silence before Quinn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, excusing himself, "I have to make a phone call; I'll see you around," but before he could walk off, you gave him a side hug goodbye. You had done it a thousand times before, and feeling like you couldn't because Andrew was there didn't feel like a good sign, so you did it anyway. "I'll text you," you quietly said as you let go.

The next few days had been uneventful, showing Andrew around Vancouver. The hallway had felt unusually empty each time you passed, hoping to run into Quinn. A string of away games was starting that Monday, and when you came back from dropping off Andrew at the airport on Sunday night, you noticed the bag sitting in front of your apartment door.

The black sweats were inside with a note, 'I'll pick them up when I'm back. Enjoy :). ~ Q" He never asked for them back

———————————————————————

227 notes · View notes

sc0tters · 2 years ago

Text

It’s Captain Now | Quinn Hughes

summary: when you take Quinn out for drinks to celebrate his captains announcement you push his buttons landing you up on his bed.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, oral (fem and m receiving!), minimal degradation used (slut once), swearing.

word count: 2.59k

authors note: okay so I definitely got carried away with how I wrote Quinn in this but it’s for his captaincy so I can’t get bashed for going big. Ending is a bit rushed because I want to go to sleep but I wanted this out today. Sort of felt like a full circle moment for those of you that remember the first smut I did on here with Jack and Quinn’s best friend so I figured it was only fair to do a Quinn and Jack best friend one 😭

Quinn’s brain was playing against him tonight.

You looked good in your little blue dress that barely covered your ass as you leaned over the bar counter to get your drinks.

The hockey player had to say that your strict instructions making him stay sat because this was your treat was something that Quinn enjoyed when you sent him a cheeky grin.

He knew it was wrong thinking about you like this, but Quinn knew that there was no other way for him to see you. Not after the summer.

The sound of your laugh erupted through the house as Jack threw you over his shoulder “let me go Jacky!” You groaned banging your fists on his back.

Quinn looked up from his phone as he heard the noise “can you not kill her before the rest of the boys get here?” He asked smiling as you were thrown onto the couch next to him.

Your breasts bounced in your bikini making it a sight for sore eyes “you’re no fun now that she lives with you.” Jack pointed out as he sent his brother an irritated look.

However those negative feelings were short lived as the knock at the door pulled the younger Hughes boys attention away from the way you smiled at Quinn “I’ll be back.” Jack announced making his way to the door.

The Canucks player had to say that he was surprised when you stayed on the couch with him “don’t you want to see your friends?” Quinn asked cocking his head.

You were quick to shake your head “like sitting with you,” you reached over to tap his nose letting out a giggle at how he scrunched his face “roomie,” you added using his new nickname.

After you graduated you couldn’t find an apartment in Vancouver so Quinn offered you his second bedroom. Not a single thought of hesitation went through your mind when he offered it to you because over your time in Vancouver you grew to love Quinn, in ways you shouldn’t love your best friends brother “you better not be avoiding me y/n!” Trevor called out making you both laugh from the couch.

You got up “wouldn’t dream of it ass hat!” You smiled running over to the boys as you left Quinn to watch you get pulled into a hug by the New York native.

As the eldest Hughes boy felt his heart grow green with jealous he knew it only meant one thing, that Quinn Hughes was in love with you.

You snapped your fingers in front of Quinn’s face “you good?” You asked cocking your head as Quinn seemed to come back to you.

His cheeks were red as the image of you in that stupidly small bikini was still in the front of his mind “y-yeah…sorry,” Quinn was quick to apologise as he chugged back some of his beer.

Despite the fact that you knew something was off you decided to not dig into it “how are you feeling about the news captain?” You smiled innocently as you turned to face him fully.

Quinn felt his jeans tighten as you used his new title “oh my god.” You slapped your hand over your mouth watching him puff out his cheeks.

That was his tell tale sign that he was horny and you had picked up on that years ago “what?” Quinn asked when you threw your head back with laughter.

Part of you wondered if you should really let him know “have you got something you want to tell me captain?” You teased placing your hand on his knee as he repeated his original reaction.

Now Quinn figured out what you were playing at “stop it!” He groaned growing embarrassed.

The teasing didn’t stop during the night, in fact it actually got worse. It continued all the way until you two got home “thanks for keeping me company cap,” you wrapped your hand around his arm as you used him for support as you took your heels off.

Just as you were about to walk away Quinn grabbed your hand pulling you back to him. Your body hit his chest before you looked up to him “you gotta stop saying that to me y/n.” He sighed cupping your cheek as he let the rough pad of his finger rub against the warmth of your skin.

You started to feel bad as you thought it was irritating him “not when you aren’t going do anything about the problem you’re causing.” Quinn added letting his voice float to your ear as his bulge rubbed against your thigh.

A groan left your throat as thoughts came through your head “didn’t mean to do that Quinn,” you apologised as your lips formed a pout.

He couldn’t stay mad at you for long when your hand trailed up his shorts “‘m sorry,” you mumbled palming his cock as the boy stayed silent.

The Canucks player almost drifted off into this state of peace as his eyes went hooded “should show me just how sorry you are princess.” Quinn gasped forcing the words out of his mouth.

A smile formed on your face “wanna make you feel so good cap,” you cooed bringing your lips to his. The kiss was soft as his hand locked in the back of your hair “stop teasing me then baby, fuck!” Quinn groaned feeling your hand just cup his balls.

You giggled as you dropped to your knees “do I make you horny Quinn?” You asked hooking your fingers in the waist band of his shorts pulling them down with his pants as you smiled.

His head fell back as your cold fingers wrapped around his cock “so much baby” he groaned feeling you kitten lick his tip “don’t deserve to be teased like this.” Quinn added as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

It felt like pure torture as you drunkenly giggled before you wrapped your lips around his cock “fuck me,” he gasped hearing the sounds of your gags along with your own moans that sent vibrations through his body.

Quinn wrapped his hand around your hair as he forced your throat to take his cock deeper “so good baby.” His praise made you clench your pussy around nothing.

Your hot mouth felt like heaven around his cock “ugh Quinn,” your words came out muffled as his cock seemed to swallow them hitting the back of your throat.

All of the tension that had built up in his pants over night were now falling apart as your tongue swirled around him trying to get Quinn to that high as quickly as his whole body tensed “keep doing so good baby.” The hockey player encouraged you as you continued to gurgle around his cock.

His orgasm hit him like a truck as he almost fell over “so fucking good princess.” It seemed like the boy couldn’t settle on a nickname for you as he pulled his cock out from your mouth.

You titled your head up letting your mouth hang open before you swallow his release “god y/n,” Quinn swore he was on cloud nine as he watched you stick your tongue out now empty.

He held his hand out to help you back up “you gonna fuck me like a real captain?” You asked grinning from ear to ear.

If Quinn knew that that you were going to be such a brat in the sheets he would have fucked you weeks if not months ago “I gotta taste you first.” Quinn blurted out cupping your cheeks again as he kissed you.

His tongue slid into your mouth letting him taste his release on your tongue as he pushed you all the way back until your knees hit the pillow of the couch sending you both back onto it “you knew you were gonna get fucked didn’t you?” The hockey player asked seeing your blue thong as your dress pushed up around your waist.

Quinn let his fingers run down your stomach stopping at the fabric of your panties picking a side up so it could snap back against your skin “asked you a question princess.” He muttered pulling the underwear down your legs painfully slowly “hoped you would fuck me Quinn,” you confessed arching your back into the couch.

You should have been embarrassed with how wet you were as Quinn stared down down at your soaked pussy “you know that’s not my name tonight baby.” Quinn mumbled laying his tongue down flat as he lick a stripe up your folds.

Your hands went to his hair “sorry cap,” you were quick to apologise as he smirked to himself “won’t make that mistake again,” you added puffing your cheeks out as Quinn took his two fingers and ran them over your clit a few times before he thrusted them inside of you.

The hockey player locked his eyes with yours “know you won’t because you’re my good girl right?” Quinn asked before he latched his lips around your clit.

It was quick to make you jump forward with pleasure as you gasped “fucking hell cap,” you groaned running your fingers over your chest.

The matching blue bra was seen thrown across the room as you let your fingers trace over the stiff peaks that your nipples had formed “please let me come,” you begged knowing that you weren’t going to last long with how turned on you were when you sucked Quinn off.

He groaned sending shivers up your spine “I promise I’ll be your good girl.” You nodded to yourself as you pulled at his hair trying to get him closer to your core than he already was.

It seemed that Quinn’s brain was telling his tongue to treat you like you were meant to be his last meal “don’t stop,” you groaned grinding your hips against his face as your thighs began to grow shaky.

Knowing that he was the one causing you to let out those moans and it wasn’t that little black vibrator that you hide in your makeup drawer was a total boost to Quinn’s ego “gotta ask for it like a good girl.” He mumbled somehow having you hear his words perfectly as he went back to sucking your clit whilst his fingers get your pussy occupied.

You were surprised you could even get the words out “please let me come captain.” You begged digging your hips into the couch “I promise I’ll be your good girl as you fuck me.” Those words caused him to grunt and that set off your orgasm.

Now Quinn wasn’t a cruel man, he wasn’t going to stop you because he said no. Instead he was going to fuck you through it and make you pay afterwards “shit Quinn!” You cried leaving that as the real cherry on top of the cake as he retracted his fingers from your pussy.

You were in trouble now “get up,” Quinn’s tone was serious making you listen to him quickly “why?” You asked following his request.

Quinn glared as he reached behind you to grab a handful of your ass “you didn’t listen to me baby so now I have to punish you,” he sighed softly slapping the your skin.

It was hard to concentrate as you rubbed your thighs together trying to alleviate some of the pleasure you felt “so go get naked and wait for me on the bed.” With that Quinn sent you off to his bed room leaving you oozing with anticipation as you got rid of your your dress laying down on his bed just like he wanted you.

But of course the moment Quinn saw you he had other ideas “face down baby, ass up.” He barked causing you to roll over onto your stomach as you heard him get rid of his T-shirt as it fell to the ground.

Quinn had to admit that you being so responsive to him was earning you some brownie points “now you know how to be a good girl for me huh?” He asked cocking his head as he joined you on his bed quickly reaching into the drawer for a condom.

All you could do was nod as you tried to hold back a squeal of excitement “please fuck me captain.” You begged feeling his hands wrap around your hips as his fingers dug into your sides.

There was no doubt about it that your were ready and Quinn was done waiting. So he took his covered cock as he ran it over your clit a few times before he thrusted inside of your pussy. The angle was perfect for him as it like his cock get wrapped up by your tight little cunt “baby ready to by my dumb little cock slut?” He asked thrusting his cock at a painfully slow pace as the hockey player continued to bottom you out.

Your whimpers practically lit Quinn’s skin of fire “yes cap, I’ll whatever you want.” You pleaded just wanting him to move faster.

Thankfully for you it didn’t take him long as those words seemed to trigger a switch in his head causing him to listen to you “so fucking good.” Quinn groaned letting his lower half do most of the work as he let his one hand reach down to rub your clit “if you behave for now on you might even be allowed to come without permission.” The hockey player proposed enjoying how your ass looked bouncing against his lower torso as your pussy swallowed his cock.

It felt like he was on cloud nine “wanna be your best girl,” you cried out feeling your eyes flutter as the boy continued to bottom you out.

He managed to hit spots that no dildo could dream of “you are my only girl baby,” Quinn cooed squeezing his face like he had eaten something sour as your pussy hadn’t stopped clenching around his cock.

The sound of skin slapping only added another layer of pleasure for both of you as the room went silent with you both trying to focus on only one thing “c’mon cap please,” you begged feeling like your legs were going to give out from under you.

Quinn smiled as he used his other hand to reach down and tease your breast as he remembered you doing it early “oh shit,” you swore feeling it.

The hockey player pressed warm kisses up your neck stopping by your ear “be my good girl and come for me.” Quinn mumbled letting his hot breath fan against your ear.

That was all it took for you to come as your body dropped to the mattress as you shuddered letting your hands grab at the comforter beneath you “so fucking good baby,” he cooed helping you through your orgasm as his own was caused by that.

Quinn pulled out of you with heavy breathing as he lay down next to you, with the little energy you had left you turned to look up at him “you okay?” The hockey player asked brushing your hair out of your face.

You nodded as you let out a yawn “let’s run you a bath,” he mumbled scooping up your body like you were a child.

Your hand went to his jaw as you squeezed it forcing him to look at you “for us,” you corrected Quinn as you smiled watching him shut the bathroom door behind you two.

Now this is how you spend your first official day as captain of an NHL team.

#quinn hughes smut #Quinn Hughes imagines #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #oneshots #imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey smut #nhl smut #amber writes fics

1K notes · View notes

puckingeccedentesiast · 1 month ago

Text

| Bleeding Hearts, Bleeding Scars |

a/n this one hurt, i really enjoyed writing it though. i hope you enjoy reading it just as much! i am sorry for not writing heaps, i am trying to fix that. Kudos to @cupidbedsy because i showed her a snippet and she told me it was good so i finished it.

warnings: hospitals, but not super bad. angst, angst, angst. a little bit of toxic!quinn at the end maybe??

Their sirens sounded simultaneously, one symbolic of achievement, a known sound tethered with a joyous moment of redemption or extending the winning. The other siren, widely known as well, everyone knew the wailing of this siren and parted ways for it to pass with ease, emotions crashing in a tumultuous wave behind it.

His sirens were flashing blue and green, spiralling around him beautifully. Her sirens flashed blue and red, then her everything went black.

~/> </~

Quinn Hughes had spent his life moving at an electrifying speed – on the ice, everything made sense. Every pass, every shift, every calculated risk no matter how detrimental was measured and precise. Off the ice however, life had its way of digging an edge in, causing things to hurtle out of control.

The call had come obscenely late at night, just after another hard-fought game. Quinn was exhausted, his body was bruised, but none of that mattered when his phone screen lit up with an unfamiliar number. He looked at the number but picked up regardless, he was greeted with a young feminine voice, "Good Evening, this is Maddy from the Vancouver General Hospital am I speaking with a Mr. Hughes?"

The room around him blurred, the air rushing out of his lungs before the words even registered. "Yeah.. uh- yes that's me. Mr. Hughes, well Quinn is easier but- why are you calling?"

"A miss Y/N L/N had you listed as her emergency contact, are you of any relation to her?" the attendant's voice was methodical, almost as if she'd done this thousands of times before. News flash – she had.

"Yes. Not by blood but I'm her boyfriend of four years." Quinn's brain was turning, almost as much as his stomach. The panic induced nausea along with the large pizza and cheese bites he previously consumed were doing nothing to help with his clarity.

"She was in an accident. We need you to come in immediately please."

~/> </~

He couldn't remember how he got to the hospital. He wasn't sure if he even stopped at red lights or if he simply drove on autopilot, propelled by pure fear. When he arrived, it was almost surreal. Bright fluorescent lights hummed overhead, an artificial sterility, accompanied by fuming cleaning chemicals filling the space. The waiting room smelt like antiseptic and coffee, but Quinn barely noticed.

He approached the desk slowly, a young attendant in maroon scrubs sat behind the desk, tapping away at his keyboard boredly.

"Excuse me, I got called my girlfriend was in an accident." Quinn was ninety percent sure he fumbled over half his words but that didn't matter right now, not when you were potentially hurt.

"What's her name?" The young male asked, continuing the tacky chewing of his gum.

"Y/N L/N."

"Room four, just through those doors and down the hallway, second door on your right."

Quinn wasted no time, pushing through the large wooden doors, the metal hand plates cold on his already numb hands. Quinn found the first doctor he could, who was conveniently stood outside your room, he had a thousand questions to ask. That was before that doctor looked at him, face solem and voice measured. The words were a foreign language – brain injury, severe concussion, amnesia. Quinn shook his head, almost like he was shaking off the truth, as if denying it would rewrite the narrative.

"She doesn't– she doesn't remember anything?" His voice cracked, and he hated the vulnerability that seeped into it.

The doctor hesitated, adjusting the stethoscope sitting around his neck. "It's hard to say the extent of memory loss just yet. She has retrograde amnesia, meaning she doesn't recall recent events. Long-term memories might still be intact, but we won't know until she wakes up and begins cognitive assessments."

Quinn swallowed hard, the saliva feeling like a brick sliding down his throat, his breathing was shallow, hands clammy. He had spent the past few years building a life with her – countless nights spent wrapped in whispered conversations, shared laughter, stolen longing kisses before road trips. And now? Now she might wake up and not know who he was at all.

When he was finally allowed in, his breath caught in his throat. She looked so small in the hospital bed, tubes and wires hooked up to her, surrounding her like a web. Her face was pale, a stark contrast to the deep bruising along her temple. He took a shaky step forward, then another, then another until he was close enough to reach for her hand.

"Hey," he whispered, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. The silence stretched between them, thick with uncertainty. He squeezed her hand gently. "I'm here."

For a moment he held his breath, his heart hammering as she blinked up at him in confusion.

Her lips parted, her voice hoarse when she spoke. "Who... are you?"

And just like that, the world he knew shattered beneath him.

Quinn felt the breath he had been holding escape in a sharp exhale. His grip on her hand loosened slightly, like his body had momentarily forgotten how to function.

Who are you?

The words echoed in his head, louder than any goal horn, driving sharper than any loss.

She was staring at him, waiting. There was no recognition in her eyes. No warmth. No flicker of familiarity.

Her swallowed against the lump in his throat and forced himself to speak. It's me. It's Quinn."

She blinked, her expression blank. "Quinn..." she tested the name like it was foreign, like it meant nothing. And maybe right now, to her, it didn't. His heart clenched painfully.

Before he could find the words to say something, anything, the doctor stepped forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on Quinn's shoulder. "She just woke up. It will take time for her to process things. Try not to overwhelm her."

Try not to overwhelm her?

Quinn wanted to scream, his entire world had just unravelled and he was supposed to act like it was fine.

But it wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine.

“I’ll step out for a few minutes,” the doctor continued, giving Quinn a knowing look. “Take it slow.”

As the door shut behind them, an uncomfortable silence settled between him and the girl who used to know everything about him. The girl who used to be his home.

Now, she was looking at him like he was a stranger.

Quinn forced himself to sit down in the chair beside her bed. His hands rested on his knees, fidgeting, like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “You, um… you were in an accident,” he said carefully, as if the wrong words might send her slipping further away. “You hit your head pretty bad. The doctors said it might take time for everything to come back.”

She furrowed her brows slightly, as if trying to make sense of his words. “How long?”

Quinn hesitated. “They… they don’t know for sure.”

She exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “So I just… forgot?”

He could see the frustration creeping into her expression, the fear she was trying to hide. He wanted to reach for her, to hold her the way he always had, but now—now, he wasn’t sure if he even could.

“Not everything,” he tried to reassure her, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. “Your long-term memories might still be there. It’s just… recent ones that are missing.”

Her gaze flickered back to him, studying him. “And you’re… my boyfriend?”

Quinn let out a soft, almost bitter chuckle. “Yeah. For a while now.”

She bit her lip, looking away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Quinn’s chest tightened. “Don’t. You don’t have to be sorry.”

But God, he wished she remembered.

He wished she remembered the nights spent tangled in his sheets, whispering secrets neither of them had ever told anyone else. He wished she remembered the way he would pull her into his arms after a tough game, how she always knew exactly what to say to quiet his mind. He wished she remembered the road trips, the laughter, the way she used to look at him like he was her favorite thing in the world.

Instead, she was looking at him like he was nothing more than a stranger sitting beside her hospital bed.

“Can you…” she hesitated, before meeting his eyes. “Can you tell me about us?”

His throat felt dry, his heart aching in ways he didn’t know it could.

But he nodded.

Because even if she couldn’t remember their love, he would remind her.

No matter how long it took.

~/> </~

Quinn took a slow breath, steadying himself. Tell her about us. The words felt heavier than they should have, because how could he possibly condense years of love into a single conversation?

But he had to try.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I can do that.”

She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to start, waiting for him to give her pieces of a life she couldn’t remember.

“We met three years ago,” he began, his voice laced with nostalgia. “It was at a team event. You were there with a friend, and I was… well, I was awkward as hell.” A small chuckle left his lips, but she didn’t laugh—she only tilted her head slightly, listening.

“You had this ridiculous habit of calling me ‘Mr. Hockey Superstar’ because you said my name sounded too serious. I pretended to hate it, but I didn’t.” He swallowed hard, his fingers gripping his jeans. “You were smart. Funny. You made everything feel lighter, like nothing was too big or too overwhelming.

“You hated hockey at first,” he continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You thought it was all fights and chaos. But then you started coming to my games, and suddenly, you knew more about my stats than I did.”

She let out a quiet breath. “Did I really?”

“Yeah,” Quinn nodded. “And you made it a habit of roasting me after bad games.”

Something flickered in her expression—maybe amusement, maybe a whisper of familiarity—but it disappeared just as quickly.

He pushed forward.

“You were there for every milestone. My first season, my first playoff run, every high and low.” He hesitated before adding, “And I was there for yours. Every late-night breakdown, every dream you chased, every moment you thought you weren’t good enough—I was there.”

She was silent for a long time, her fingers twitching slightly against the sheets. “It sounds… nice,” she murmured finally.

Quinn let out a soft, shaky laugh. “It was more than nice.”

She blinked at him, her brows knitting together. “I wish I could remember.”

Quinn’s chest tightened. “Me too.”

The days that followed were an excruciating mix of hope and heartache. Quinn spent every free moment by her side, trying to reintroduce her to their life together. He brought photos, videos, little things she used to love—a battered hoodie she always stole from him, her favorite snacks, even an old playlist she had made for long road trips.

Some days were better than others.

Some days, she would smile at something he said, and for a split second, he swore he saw a glimpse of the girl he loved. Other days, she would stare at him with quiet frustration, as if trying to force the memories to return, only to come up empty.

The worst days were when she looked exhausted, when her eyes were filled with something close to guilt. “I feel like I’m letting you down,” she admitted once, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not,” Quinn assured her immediately, but the words felt hollow. Because no matter how much he tried to be patient, no matter how much he reminded himself that this wasn’t her fault—he couldn’t deny the ache in his chest every time she failed to recognize a piece of their past.

It wasn’t fair.

He knew he wasn’t supposed to think that way, but he did. It wasn’t fair that he remembered everything while she remembered nothing.

And he was terrified—what if she never did?

A month passed. Then two.

She was healing, physically at least. The bruises had faded, the stitches were gone, and her doctors had finally cleared her to go home.

But home wasn’t the same.

She was staying in their apartment, but it didn’t feel like hers. She walked through the space carefully, like a guest, like someone trying to find their footing in a house full of strangers. Quinn tried not to let it get to him, but it did.

She didn’t wear his hoodies anymore.

She didn’t instinctively reach for his hand when they walked side by side.

She still laughed at his dry humor, still scrunched her nose when she concentrated too hard on something, still bit her lip when she was nervous—but she didn’t remember that those were all the little things that made him fall in love with her in the first place.

And then, one night, it all came to a breaking point.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said hesitantly over dinner.

Quinn froze, his grip tightening around his fork.

She bit her lip, playing with the hem of her sleeve. “I just… I feel like I’m taking up space here. I know this used to be our home, but—”

“It still is,” Quinn interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended.

She winced. “Quinn—”

“No, I get it,” he said quickly, pushing his chair back and standing up. His heart was pounding. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t keep pretending this didn’t hurt like hell. “You don’t remember me. You don’t remember us. And now you want to leave. I get it.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I just—” He swallowed. “I don’t know how to do this.”

For the first time since the accident, her face softened in a way that almost resembled the girl he used to know. “Me neither,” she admitted.

Quinn let out a breath, shaking his head. “I don’t want to pressure you. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to remember just for me.” He looked down. “But I miss you. I miss us. And I don’t know how to be around you when you don’t even know who I am.”

The room was quiet for a long time.

Then, slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing over his hand.

It was tentative. Small. But it was something.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered.

Quinn let out a bitter chuckle. “Too late for that.”

She frowned, her hand tightening around his. “I may not remember… but I know that I don’t like seeing you like this.”

He met her gaze, something fragile and raw settling between them.

And then, in the softest voice, she whispered, “Can we start over?”

Quinn blinked. “Start over?”

She nodded. “I may not remember how we fell in love the first time. But maybe… maybe you could help me do it again.”

Quinn’s breath caught.

And for the first time in months, something like hope flickered inside him.

He exhaled, squeezing her hand. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We can do that.”

Over the next few weeks, they did exactly that.

Quinn took her to the places that had once been theirs—a late-night drive to the spot overlooking the city skyline, the tiny coffee shop tucked away in a quiet street where they used to sit for hours, the pier where she once made him ride the Ferris wheel despite his protests.

He told her stories.

About the time she pranked him by putting salt in his coffee. About the way she would steal his hats just to annoy him. About the night he first realized he was in love with her, when she was singing off-key in the kitchen, twirling around in his hoodie like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Some memories made her laugh. Others made her tilt her head in quiet contemplation, as if trying to pull something from the depths of her mind.

And then, one night, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, something changed.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, so naturally that it caught him off guard. His heart pounded, but he didn’t move, afraid that if he did, she would pull away.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she murmured, “I don’t remember everything yet.”

Quinn swallowed. “That’s okay.”

“But I think…” She hesitated, then lifted her head to meet his gaze. “I think I’m starting to remember how it felt to love you.”

Quinn sucked in a breath, his eyes searching hers. “Yeah?”

She nodded, a small, tentative smile forming.

It wasn’t everything.

But it was something.

And maybe—just maybe—they could build something new, together.

105 notes · View notes

eyesthatroll · 1 year ago

Text

7 and 7 | quinn hughes

pairing; qh43 x fem!reader

warning(s); drinking (sharing a drink???) making out (but no smut)

word count; blurb | 0.55k

author's note; this is sooooo self indulgent. you might think the drink thing is nasty, and maybe it is, but it's so hot to me (is this a judgement free zone?!) missed you guys, have had so much writers block recently. ugh. anyways, i'd love to hear your thoughts. love ya. -mari.

"I think that guy is flirting with Y/N," Brock comments, giving Quinn a nudge in the shoulder as he gestures towards the bar. Quinn's brows furrow in confusion, his attention drawn to you. You're dressed in a skin-tight little black dress that ends halfway above your knees, a silhouette that commands attention. At the bar, another man stands, leaning against the counter, fully turned towards you, engaging in conversation.

"Yeah, looks like it," Quinn agrees, his teeth grazing over his bottom lip in a contemplative manner as he absentmindedly stirs the straw around his now-empty glass. His gaze remains fixed on the unfolding scene between you and the mystery guy.

"Are you gonna go over there?"

Quinn shakes his head, a confident yet calm assurance in his response. He's not worried in the least. While he'd intervene if you signaled any distress, he trusts you implicitly, and knows you can handle yourself well.

He doesn't even notice when Brock excuses himself to go to the bathroom; Quinn is too entranced by you to realize he's now the sole occupant at the table.

His attention remains fixed on you, captivated by the sight of your head thrown back in laughter. The bartender places two drinks in front of you, and Quinn watches intently as you take both in your hands. A brief exchange of words occurs between you and the mystery guy, and then, with a graceful turn on your heels, you make your way back to the booth where Quinn and the others were situated.

"Babe!" You exclaim animatedly, stumbling to a pause to set the drinks down before practically falling to claim your spot on Quinn's lap. His hands instinctively wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he inhales your signature scent—Japanese Cherry Blossom. "Tyler over there bought our drinks, isn't that so sweet of him?"

Both of you glance back at the bar where he still stands, his face a mix of confusion and shock. Quinn knows Tyler expected you to go to the booth of girls just in front of the two of you, and that causes his lips to twist into a small smirk. Quinn raises his glass to him, nodding his head as a salute. Effortlessly, he tilts the glass against his lips.

"Good?" you ask.

"Mhmm," he responds, his tongue briefly darting out to catch stray drips of whiskey on his bottom lip. "You want some, baby?"

You nod eagerly, and he brings the glass up to his lips once more. Before you can fully process the motion, his hand gently grips the skin of your neck, tilting your head back ever so slightly. Straightening up, he latches his lips to yours. The full-bodied, sweet and smoky liquid filters into your mouth with grace, and you swallow quickly before Quinn engages your tongue in a passionate dance.

Your throat burns from the alcohol as Quinn kisses you with intensity, his lower hand reaching down to grip your thigh, his fingers trailing upwards towards your heat. A moan escapes your lips, and it gets caught in Quinn's throat as continues his assault on your lips. He only pulls away when he begins to feel lightheaded, but not before his teeth latch onto your bottom lip. A whine leaves you, both from pain and the loss of contact of Quinn's lips against yours.

As you exhale heavy breaths, you lock eyes with him, his pupils dilated from a potent mix of alcohol and lust. Remnants of your dark red lipstick stain his, messily ending just above his chin. Quick to address the aftermath, you grab a napkin from the table and attempt to wipe off his mouth.

Quinn pulls you into his side, and you lean your head on his shoulder. He glances slightly to the side, noticing Tyler is gone. "Good?" he asks.

You squeeze his hand, a tipsy smile on your lips. 'Mhmm."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes blurb

592 notes · View notes

puck-bunnies · 1 year ago

Text

or nah..?

quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, oral sex (m and f receiving), degrading, praising, dom!quinn, semi public sex, car sex

word count: 2.1k

getting into a argument after a tough loss, the only way you can resolve your fight is by quinn bossing you around. can you take all of him, or nah…?

“it’s not your fault quinn, you played the best you could.” we’re on the road driving home from the canucks game. they lost 4-1, he’s beating himself up, thinking he lead his team to failure, against an easily beatable team at that. quinn’s fingers grip harshly on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with pressure. i notice his jaw clench, teeth grinding together as he lightly speeds down the dark road.

he doesn’t talk to me, there isn’t much to say. i look out the window, not daring to look at him in his angered manner. “what do you want from me quinn, do you want me to coddle you and tell you everything will be okay?” i bicker at him, my short temper showing when i know this isn’t a good time. my heart regrets the second those words escape my lips.

his teeth pierce the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows squeeze together in annoyance. “jesus Y/N, can you take five seconds off to being a complete asshole.” i’m not stunned by his words, we often have disagreements and bicker back and forth, but it always ends in the same thing. hate sex.

“i’m not the one who’s moping around because his team lost one game, it’s not the end of the world quinn.” i roll my eyes and look out the window.

he huffs, “don’t roll your eyes at me Y/N, i’ll give you a reason to roll your eyes.” quinn’s grip tightens on the wheel, turning into a backroad on the way to our house. i don’t listen to him, rolling my eyes at his bitchy demeanour again. he pulls over on the side of the road and slams on the breaks, making me wince with a jump. “out of the car, now.” he demands, i don’t waste a second to work with his wishes.

the cold winter air hits me hard, my cheeks and nose flushing with a blush. quinn slams the car door once he steps out of the drives seat, rounding the car and meeting me on the side of the abandoned road. popping open the back car door, he sits on the seat, facing me on the outside. “on your knees.” he husks.

i don’t hesitate, the rubble piercing my exposed skin as i’m only wearing a skirt, i don’t mind it, just ready for what’s in store my adrenaline overrides the soft pain. quinn unzips his own jeans, “you’re going to suck my cock like the slut you are. it’ll keep your mouth shut for once.” his eyes glare down at me, shimmying his jeans and boxers off of his hips.

quinn’s already hard cock springs out of his boxers, hitting the bottom of his stomach before coming back at my face. my fingers graze his light pink tip that’s already coated in pre cum, softly rubbing before going down the shaft, warming up his needy cock. i lower my head down, swirling my teasing tongue around the head, my spit coating his aching cock. “don’t be tease now. take it all.” quinn forms my hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling the roots of my hair enough to make me wince.

i curse under my breath, he bucks his hips up, letting himself slide into my warm and wet mouth. my hand goes down to his base, playing with the length i haven’t touched yet. my tongue acts as a pillow for his cock, laying on it as i slide myself down farther. it doesn’t take long for quinn’s length to hit the back of my throat, he stops forcing himself farther when he feels be gag too much.

easing his hips back before bucking themselves up again. my hand corkscrews the rest of his base, my other resting on quinn’s thigh to steady myself. he uses his hands to guide my head up and down while thrusting his hips, fucking my face softly at first. it doesn’t take long for him to start getting rougher, hitting the back of my throat to receive a little gag every stroke.

i dig my nails into his thigh, my pussy starting to drip with need and desire to be filled with him. i clench around nothing, trying to give myself a little something to feel good with. i take my hand off of his thigh, running down my body to my crotch. my fingers slide up and down my clothed cunt, pressing harder where my clit sits, getting a soft moan around quinn’s cock as i hit my sensitive bud.

he pulls my hair up, his cock leaving my mouth with a soft pop. “are you touching yourself while sucking my cock?” he asks in a rough manner, i nod, not being able to find words. “what makes you think you deserve that. you’ve been nothing but a brat, make me cum and maybe you’ll get something in return.”

my eyes are soft and wide as i look up at him, dragging my hand away from my desperate cunt and back onto his thigh. “good girl.” he mutters. before he can ask me to, i take him back into my mouth, sliding down till it hits the very back of my throat. quinn groans with surprise above me, letting out a soft whimper as he tightens his grip on my hair, pushing me up and down with ease.

my tongue drags up and down, feeling every vein that runs up his length. my freshly manicured nails dig into his skin, my thighs clench together to cause the friction that it so needs.

quinn turns into a groaning mess above me, every time i get to his tip and circle my tongue around it he softly whimpers. sliding my mouth back down on his cock, the sound of a passing car makes my stomach burn with anxiety. it makes me stop in my tracks, quinn’s cock filling up my mouth but my head doesn’t move an inch. i feel his burning gaze down at me, scolding me for stopping.

“no one’s doing to see us, don’t stop, not now.” he practically growls at me. he pushes my head down him farther, taking control of me. i let him continue his control, pulling my head by my hair back up his cock. he bucks his hips at the same time, not letting himself slip out of the warmness of my mouth again. i soft moan against him, “oh yeah..? you like when i fuck your mouth like this?” quinn’s voice comes out in a groan, showing his neediness for me but his dominance over me at the same time.

i can tell he’s getting close as his thighs clench underneath my hands, his thrusts up into my mouth becoming more needy. every time his tip hits the back of my throat making me gag gets him closer, groans filling the night air.

“fuck.” he curses out, then i feel it. liquid spitting out of his cock as his pace slows, chasing his own high desperately. my eyes stay trained on his face as he tilts his head back, his eyes screwing shut as he lets his orgasm take over him.

quinn pulls my head back up, his spent dick falling out of my mouth. he smirks at me, acknowledging the talent i have with just my mouth. “see, it wasn’t that hard to be good.” he whispers, pulling me up his body.

quinn’s lips smash onto mine, my teeth biting down on his bottom lip to let my tongue slide in, letting him taste the hint of him that still lingers in my mouth. he releases his grasp on my hair, instead falling down to my waist as he replaces my tongue with his, filling up my mouth.

he suddenly backs away, getting up from the car seat and joining me in standing next to the car. i don’t expect him to slam the door shut, his hands going back to my waist to pin me against the closed door. hands running down my sides to my ass, giving it a tight squeeze receiving a soft hum from me.

quinn lowers his body, kneeling on the ground as his hands slowly make way down my naked legs. my leg gets lifted, hooking onto his shoulder to let him look up at my core. getting a glimpse of my black laced panties, he slides a singer up my folds, landing on my clit, giving it a teasing rub. i take a deep breath in through my teeth, my pussy clenching around nothing as i badly crave for more of him.

he hooks two fingers in the side of my panties, moving them to the side to get an easy view of my soaked pussy. i don’t miss the smirk on his face, he always takes pleasure in seeing what i do to him, even just by sucking him off.

he replaces his fingers with his mouth, giving me a soft and teasing kiss on my clit. my hand gravitates to his hair, pulling at his soft brown curls. i push him closer to me, needing more of him so badly. he pulls against my wishes, not granting me the one thing i need so badly.

“be patient baby.” quinn’s demeanour changes from the once demanding man to a soft and gentle one. that’s how quinn always is when he eats me out, soft and praising as he gets drunk off the taste of my pussy.

he finally goes back in, his tongue flicking softly against my sensitive bud. the stubble of his growing out beard rubs against the inside of my thighs making me whimper. my knees buckle as i try not to fall from the pleasure, my back slightly arching off the cold car door being me. my head rolls back softy as quinn slides a finger into me, “keep your eyes on me pretty girl.” he softly demands of me. it’s one of his rules in bed, when he’s eating me out, my eyes have to stay on his.

i oblige, staring down at him as his mouth disappears under my skirt. my hands grab the hem of my skirt, hiking it up so i can see more of what he does to me. his tongue circling my aching clit as he adds a second finger into my hole, my walls clenching with the new added filling.

i mumble curses under my breath, quinn’s fingers curling up to my g-spot instead of jamming in and out. he takes his time with me, my hands pushing him in farther as i already feel my orgasm coming up to me, about to hit me like a bus. quinn knows it’s coming too, the quickness of his tongue against me rabidly increasing with every lick. his grip on my thigh that’s laying on his shoulder tightening, and the other on my ass playing with it.

my body can’t take it anymore, clenching one more time around him as i set my release. my loud moans filling the chilly air around me, my breath leaving with a smell smoke of air. i don’t realize the closing of my thighs, capturing quinn who has to guide my legs apart to release himself.

his fingers leave me, making me feel empty again. he slides them into his mouth, licking me off of them before doing the same against my folds. i wince slightly, my still sensitive pussy being cleaned by quinn’s tongue. “you taste so good baby.” he mumbles against me making me whimper once more.

he finishes, climbing back up my body to press his lips back against mine. this time i taste myself along his lips and tongue, moaning at the taste of sex between our mouths. “see, it doesn’t take a lot for you to be good.” quinn whispers to me.

the passenger door opens as he pulls it, letting me slip into the chair. he rounds the car, slipping into the drivers seat beside me. we finish our drive him, finally both getting the rest we so desperately need.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl oneshot #puck-bunnies

550 notes · View notes

birdiewriteslit · 1 year ago

Note

“you read my favorite book?” with quinn! maybe he went on a long roadie and brought some of her books with him and she was looking for them and when he came back he has all of them

“reader”

quinn hughes x f!reader

birdie’s 300 celly

suggestive at the end

You heard the sound of the door to the apartment opening, and you sprang out of the bed, practically throwing your phone as you hurried to greet your boyfriend.

Quinn had just set his stuff down and kicked the door shut behind him when you threw yourself into his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he said, chuckling as you buried your face into his neck.

“Hi, Quinn.” You breathed in his scent, relishing the feeling of his strong arms around you after being apart for such a long roadie.

Over his shoulder, you noticed something sitting on top of his duffel bag. “Are those my books?” you asked.

Quinn pulled away from you, hands still on your hips as he looked down at the floor. “Oh yeah, they are,” he said sheepishly, looking back at you with a smile.

“I’ve been looking for those. I knew I wasn’t going crazy. Why’d you take them?”

Quinn shrugged. “I knew I’d be bored, plus they reminded me of you,” he said, squeezing your hips.

You glanced down at the top of the pile, reading the title before your eyes shot back up to his. “You read my favorite book?”

“Of course I did. It was a little boring, but I think your tastes might be a little different than mine.” He winked, grinning down at you.

You pushed his chest away from yours with your hand, rolling your eyes. “It was not boring. You just don’t want to admit that you like Jane Austen.”

“I don’t like Jane Austen,” he denied, following you as you walked toward the bedroom, skillfully evading his hands as they tried to grab hold of you.

“Liars don’t get head,” you said simply, darting into the room before he could grab onto your waist.

“That’s so not fair,” Quinn pouted. “I’ve waited so long for you.”

“Okay, Mr. Darcy,” you snorted, finally allowing him to touch you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

You felt him smiling as he admitted, “Fine, it wasn’t boring.”

“I told you so.”

He lifted his head, kissing on your neck. “Can you give me head now?”

You rolled your eyes once more, pulling his arms off of you. “I guess, but only because I missed you.”

Quinn grinned. “That’s good enough for me.”

#birdiewriteslit #birdiewritesfics #birdie’s 300 celly #nhl blurb #nhl player #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #vancover canucks #canucks #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fluff #qh43

297 notes · View notes

sweetdispatch · 3 months ago

Text

The card - Q. Hughes

6 days of kinkmas pairing: Quinn Hughes x girlfriend!reader summary: Quinn and his girlfriend got into argument which led him to teach her manners warning: NSFW, graphic sex (18+), safeword, dom!quinn, oral (f and m receiving), dacryphilia, slapping, orgasm denial note: final day of kinkmas is here! but i have a surprise for 24th👀

Quinn, as a captain, was organising a Christmas party for his team. He needed your help but you were giving him a cold shoulder. A day earlier you two got into an argument and you didn’t want to forget this without apologies from him. You felt offended by his words and how low he thinks about you. As much as you wanted to help him, you didn’t want to give him satisfaction.

“All I’m saying is that it would be nice if you would tell me about this party at least a week earlier. Not day before” You sighed, trying to explain to him why you were mad.

“You don’t do anything so what’s the issue that I told you this now?”

“What is this supposed to mean?” His comment made you furrow yours eyebrows.

“You’re sitting at home the whole day doing nothing. It shouldn’t make a difference that I told you now” He shrugged and you looked at him, shocked at the words he just said to you. You left the living room and went to the bedroom.

This was yesterday and the two of you haven’t spoken since then. You had nothing to tell him because Quinn is the wrong one. If he thinks that you’re doing nothing, that’s exactly what you decided to do. You saw that he was struggling with preparing meals and cleaning at the same time but you were too stubborn to help him.

“Could you help me with the cake? You're a much better baker than I am” He asked you politely when he saw you getting water from the fridge, but you hadn’t responded. You went back to the bathroom to do your makeup and acted like you hadn't heard anything.

Quinn was furious at you. He couldn’t understand why you’re acting this way. In his mind, he hadn’t said anything wrong and you were the one who’s making a big deal of your conversation. He decided to let it slip for now, but after the party, he knew he’ll teach you manners.

The party was going smoothly. You two acted like a loving couple around his teammates while you hadn’t sorted out the argument. You were chatting with other girlfriends when Quinn was standing with the boys near the kitchen island. One of the girls went to grab a drink and interrupted his conversation.

“You’re a dick Quinn” She said and the boys looked at her. “You’re a dick for telling Y/N that she’s not doing anything in the house”

“Excuse me?” Quinn was taken aback by her words.

“She told us about your argument. How could you say this to her when she’s making everything so you could have a better life” She answered him and left. She sat on the couch and Quinn felt humiliated.

The boys were chirping at him about this situation and he got even more mad at you. He started thinking about his plan to punish you for what just happened. You were completely unaware of the fact that one of the girls confronted Quinn and enjoyed the party. He could see you laughing from afar but he knew that you won’t be laughing when the two of you will be home alone.

The party ended around midnight. When you closed the door after the last guests left, you sighed. All you wanted was to take off your makeup and get changed into something more comfortable. You started going to the bathroom when you heard Quinn.

“Living room. Now” His voice didn’t leave a space for argument. You followed into the room and saw his furious face expression. “You think it’s funny to tell everyone about our conversation? You think this was nice when one of the girls came and called me a dick in front of others?”

You were shocked. Yes, you told other girls about your argument but you never thought that they would direct this to him. You didn’t know what to say so you just stood there, waiting for his next move.

“I’m using the card today” You froze hearing it. You completely forgot that a couple months ago you gave him a “card” that meant that he can use you however he wants and do whatever he wants. “You’re under my control and have nothing to say unless it’s a safeword, which is…?” He asked you to be sure you remember.

“Sunflower”

“Good, now I want you naked in the bedroom. Hands on your sides and no touching”

You were turned on by the idea because sex with Quinn was always insane and you were curious what he’s gonna do to you. You took off your dress and threw it on the ground. You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come into the room. You trusted Quinn with your life and you knew that he would never hurt you but something in his voice made you nervous. You’ve been so caught up with your thoughts that you haven’t heard when he entered the room. He was standing only in his underwear. His voice brought you back from your trance.

“Knees” You listened to him and positioned yourself in front of him. He was caressing your hair and tucked them behind your ear. “We could have a nice night but you had to run with your mouth. I think we need to put it into better use now. You already said too much”

In a quick move, Quinn took off his underwear and you saw his hard dick. By instinct, you grabbed his dick and started playing with his length. He wasn’t happy with this and pulled your hair roughly so you could face him.

“I said mouth. Don’t you dare to disobey me because it will end up even worse for you” You nodded and opened your mouth letting him put his dick inside.

Quinn’s moves were rough. He was pushing his cock into your mouth without any mercy. You were gagging around him but this didn’t stop him. It turned him even more. You could feel the tip of his dick hitting your throat. Tears were spilling from your eyes and he laughed at the sight. Before he could cum in your mouth, he took out his dick.

“Lay in the bed. Legs wide open” You do what he told you to. He kneeled in front of your pussy and started eating you out. “So wet and I’ve barely done anything” He chuckled and returned to licking your clit.

Quinn pulled his fingers into your pussy and you moaned loudly. You felt incredible with his tongue on your clit. He could feel that you’re close to your orgasm but he stopped. You looked at him but he didn’t say anything. Only grabbed your hips and threw your body around. You were lying on your stomach when you heard.

“Ass up, face down” You positioned yourself and waited when you felt the first slap on your ass. You screamed by surprise not expecting this. “Next time you’ll want to act like a brat, remember how it feels”

Quinn spanked you four more times. The pain became a pleasure for you and when the last spank laid, you moaned. He looked at your red ass for a couple seconds. He did this on purpose so you don’t know what he’s gonna do next. The next thing you felt was his dick deep buried inside of you.

You were a mess under him. It felt so good when Quinn was fucking you roughly. You grabbed the sheet trying to find balance but with each thrust you were falling apart. It didn’t take him long enough to bring you close to your release. When he felt your muscles tightening around him, he pulled out. It was the second time when he didn’t let you cum.

“You’re not gonna cum until I say so” He stated and laid another spank on you.

“Please Quinn, I need it” You begged him.

“Please Quinn, I need it” He mocked you. “You, my sweet girl don’t have anything to say”

He thrusted into you again, this time you moaned loudly. He was keeping a hard pace and you went with your hand to touch yourself. Before you could do it, Quinn grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on your back. He did the same with your other hand. Now, you were totally at his mercy. Quinn was keeping your hands behind your back, still fucking into you. You were moaning and begging him to let you cum but he didn’t let you. Again, he pulled out of you and you cried.

“I am gonna decide when you gonna cum, not you” He said not bothered by your tears.

Quinn threw you again and you were again on your back. He towered over you and thrusted into you again. You moaned but now, he shut you up with a kiss. It was the first time you tasted his lips today. His hand went to circulate your pussy and you started feeling overwhelmed. Other hand, I went to play with your boobs. This was all too much for you. All the touches, teasing and three denial orgasms. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sunflower” You said repeatedly, each time quieter from another.

Quinn took his dick out of you and panicked. He knew that he fucked up because you never used it before. He pulled you into a hug and started caressing your back.

“Shh, you did so well. You’re safe” He was whispering into your ear and you started crying into his shoulder. It was breaking his heart knowing that he’s the reason you’re crying. “I’m so sorry baby, tell me what I can do to make you feel better”

“Just hold me please” Your voice was breaking at each word. Quinn hugged you tighter and let you calm down. After a couple of minutes, you spoke again. “Can we take a bath and forget about it?”

“Yes and no” You looked at him. His thumb wiped your tears. “We can take a bath but we have to talk about what happened. I need to know what exactly happened to push you to say this word. And don’t you even think that’s embarrassing. That’s why we have the word. To use it when it’s too much” He placed a kiss on your forehead.

Quinn raised you and went into a bathroom to prepare your bath so you could relax. He stayed by your side all the time, reassuming you that everything’s fine and you’re safe. You appreciated it that he didn’t leave you alone to deal with this but wanted to help you. When you were ready to leave, again he raised you and gently dressed you up in his shirt and laid you on bed.

“We don’t have to talk about this now but tomorrow okay?” You nodded and Quinn pecked your lips. “Goodnight babe, I love you and I’m sorry for today… and yesterday”

“Stop, we’ll talk about everything tomorrow, now let’s just sleep… I love you” You curled into his chest.

---

Part 2

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #nhl #nhl imgaine #nhl fanfiction #vancouver canucks #v' work

425 notes · View notes

tkwrites · 4 months ago

Text

Meet Me At The Mistletoe - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Video from @fallinallincurls

Title: Meet Me at the Mistletoe

Author: Tory / @tkwrites

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day.

Warnings: Grief. Talk of dead parents and honoring traditions. Some sex is alluded to, but nothing described. A tiny bit of praise kink stroking.

Word Count: 8,000

Comments: I'm back with my first ever Christmas fic! I’ve been waiting to write a song based on Meet Me at the Mistletoe by Dave Barnes since I first heard it three or four years ago. It has such a great story and evokes a specific feeling I felt like Quinn and Sarah were especially suited for. When Cici from @thedevilrisen reached out to me about joining a Christmas fic event called Ho Ho Hockey, I knew this had to be the story I wrote for it.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. Sending all the love your way!

Meet Me at the Mistletoe

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Will you help me plan a Christmas party?” Quinn blurted, trying to catch his breath.

“Hu?” Sarah asked, struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of subject.

Upon getting home from work, she’d practically jumped him in the kitchen. They’d made it as far as the lucky couch before desire consumed them both. He’d been on a roadie for the past few days, and though he got back the evening before, she’d been asleep when he arrived, so they weren’t able to welcome each other home properly.

Now, she lay beside him, wedged between the back of the couch - cushions had been tossed aside in their frenzy - and his body, feeling sated and satisfied as her head rested on his chest.

“I have to plan a Christmas party for the team,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t put it off anymore. Even though they still had a few months, he knew she would appreciate the advanced warning and that it would only make it easier if they started now.

“Why do you have to do it? I’d think that would be something the coaching staff would do.”

“It’s for players only. We have another one with coaches and staff. It's kind of tradition for the captain to plan it.”

Her lips pressed together, “I don’t know how much time I can dedicate to party planning in December. That’ll be right around finals.” She didn’t have as many traditional classes this semester, but there was still plenty to do.

“That’s why I’m bringing it up now, and it doesn’t have to be huge,” he rushed to explain. “Last year, JT and Natalie just had people over for drinks, and we did a gift exchange.”

“You want to have it here?”

“I thought it would be nice.” Now that Sarah was here, the apartment felt more homey and like the kind of place he wanted to show off.

“So cocktails and gifts?”

“Yeah, or whatever we want it to be. I think they had some food last year.”

“Okay,” she said.

“So you can help me?” Quinn asked.

“Yeah. I don’t know that I’ll have time to go to tastings or anything like that.”

“Tastings?”

“For food?”

He laughed, “I figured we’d just order from De Beppe and set up a cocktail bar.”

“Oh,” it seemed like he didn’t even need her help. “That sounds nice and easy.”

His hand snuck down to cradle the curve of her bottom, “you know I don’t like to make things overly complicated.”

“It’s just for adults?” she confirmed.

“It was last year,” he said. “Why? Do you want kids to come?”

She shrugged, “not necessarily. Just if they do, we’ll need to host it somewhere else. Our house isn’t really kid proofed.”

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a goofy smile on his face.

“What?”

“You said our house.”

“Hu?”

“You said our house,” he repeated. “Before you’ve always said your house,” he pointed to himself, “or the house.”

“Oh.”

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her a little tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curls as they crushed against his hip. “I’m just glad you’re feeling more at home.”

A pocket of calm silence enveloped them.

“We’ll need to decorate,” Sarah said after a few minutes.

Quinn agreed. When he thought about hosting the party, the house was always decorated for Christmas, but he’d never thought about what it would take to get it into that state.

“We can figure that out later,” she murmured, laying her head back on his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to lull her into the state of calm that always came over her when he was home.

They spent another hour there, snuggled up together, only moving when Quinn went fishing for a blanket and had to lean halfway off the couch to get it.

They didn’t get up until Sarah’s stomach grumbled loudly.

“Did you eat today?” Quinn asked, his tone accusing.

“I had a smoothie for breakfast.”

“Sarah,” he admonished. She never ate as well when he wasn’t home. Not just in quality, in quantity.

“I know,” she said, looking down sheepishly. “I even had a salad in the fridge at work, I just got so caught up in stuff. I did eat a protein bar on my way home,” she remembered.

Deciding he’d tackle the issue of her nutrition later, Quinn traced his fingers up the curve of her spine. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asked as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable exit from their cozy cocoon.

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t care. Just feed me.”

He laughed. “You got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.”

Are you free November 9th?

When Quinn sent this message, she didn’t think anything of it. They were both so busy that it was normal to schedule things three weeks in advance.

Yep, what's up that day?

Just wanna take you on a date before the game.

The purposeful vagueness and his wanting to do something on a game day raised her eyebrows. Game days were usually reserved for napping and chill time at home before he had to go to the rink.

Okay. It's in my calendar.

He hearted the message, and Sarah went back to work.

Pick you up at 11 out front, okay?

Though it was a Saturday, and she was off, Quinn knew Sarah would be working on her thesis and he needed to catch her before she got too absorbed by it, no longer concerned with looking at her phone.

For what?

We have a date, remember?

Oh, right. She’d mostly forgotten about the whole exchange, despite looking in her planner that morning and finding (heart) Date (heart) written in the sparkly blue ink she used to denote all things Quinn related.

What should I wear?

Usually, when he called something a date, it meant dinner out, but this was the middle of the day, and she knew it wouldn’t last terribly long.

Whatever - jeans are fine.

Now, she was really intrigued. Okay. See you then.

Wondering what on earth he had planned in the middle of the day on a Saturday, on a Saturday game day, no less, Sarah went back to her studies. It was hard to focus, though. Quinn was definitely up to something. They were even playing the Oilers that evening. Something fishy was definitely going on.

All the same, at 10:30, she changed out of her pajamas, pulled half of her hair up, and put on some makeup before walking down to the lobby.

Quinn was right on time, parked right in front of the front door.

“Thanks, Reece,” she said as he held the door open for her.

“Have a good day, Ms. Roberts,” he said with a nod.

She slid into the seat of Quinn’s posh new car. She’d learned by now that most players leased a new car at the beginning of every season. Instead of the Jeep, Quinn now had a sleek and luxurious new Porsche SUV. Most of her hated that it was so expensive when there were perfectly good, reliable options that were half the price. Each time she got in it, though, she had to admit: it was extremely comfortable, and the features really were something else. She found a small measure of comfort that at least it wasn’t some ridiculous sports car.

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled back into traffic.

“You’ll see,” he said with a little smile as he reached across the console for her hand.

Although he had a destination programmed into the car's GPS, she wasn’t entirely sure how the thing worked and didn’t want to accidentally get them off course by fiddling with it.

They went out of the city, which surprised her. He was bothering to take her to Richmond when they had to get back in time for the game? Not that the 30 minute drive was outrageous, but it seemed a luxury to her when they didn’t have all that much time to begin with.

“We needed to come all the way out to Richmond to go to Costco?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month,” he said quietly, “and this one's bigger than the one by home. I’m sorry we couldn’t go tonight.”

“Oh,” her breath hitched as his intention settled on her. She’d stopped mentally marking second Saturdays about a year after her dad died, so she hadn’t even known.

The hiss of his seatbelt retracting brought Sarah out of her daze, and she reached for him before he could get out of the car.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling both a swell of gratitude as well as a tightening in her chest.

He beamed, glad he’d pulled it off. “I’ve been trying to get here, but you were so busy with the start of the semester, and then I was out of town…” he trailed off.

“This is really sweet, Quinn.” Holding his chin, she leaned over the center console to press her lips to his.

He’d wanted to set up this date since she’d told him about her family’s monthly Costco adventures. “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the store.

She took a deep breath, letting it sigh out before nodding, “yeah.”

When she rounded the car and he took her hand, she tried to blink the tears from her eyes.

“I haven’t been back here,” she said quietly, wanting to explain, just in case she burst into tears. That hadn’t happened for a while, but she could never quite rule it out, especially now that the ache of doing this with him, but without her dad, was freshly torn open. That, mixed with the gratitude she felt at his want to do this for her, especially on a game day, brought up a swirl of so many emotions. Quinn was so incredibly thoughtful.

He stopped in his tracks, “is this your first time back since your dad died?” he asked.

“No, I went with mom whenever she or I was visiting, and we all go whenever I’m in town,” she said, “I just don’t think I’ve been without my siblings since she died.”

“Are you okay? We don’t have to go.” He was such an idiot. He should have asked her about it instead of just springing this on her.

“No, I want to go,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze. “It just makes me a little nostalgic, that’s all.”

Before they got to the doors. She tugged him back, “this is really thoughtful, Q.” Why hadn’t she said it before? “Thank you. I feel really cared for.”

The big, genuine smile that took over his face made her heart swell.

“So what are we looking for?” she asked, grabbing a cart and following him inside.

“I kind of thought…” he trailed off, lifting the cap off his head, trying to smooth his hair down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mother turn her pointing little girl away.

“Hm?”

“I thought we could get some Christmas decorations. Like, obviously, we need a tree, but I didn’t know if you wanted a real one, or…” he trailed off.

“Isn’t it a little early to be decorating for Christmas? I figured you were a strictly after Thanksgiving kinda guy.”

He laughed, “I mean, I am, but this was the only second Saturday I’m in town before January, so I figured we could shop and then decorate later.”

A smile beamed over her face, and a sigh unknotted some of the anxiety coiling in his chest. They’d talked, well argued, a little about Christmas. He wanted her to come to Michigan with his family, but it was her siblings' year to be together, so she wanted them to go to Nevada. He was just about ready to fly everyone to Vancouver. It was their first Christmas together. He didn’t want to spend it apart, but he didn’t want either of them to miss out on time with their families.

“I’ve never had a real tree,” she mused.

“Really?”

“My mom always said she hated the mess.” She paused for a moment, remembering, “well, I guess that’s not quite true. Trav and Trev had a real tree the year I lived with them, but it wasn't really my thing. I went back to Nevada in mid-December, so I didn’t help decorate or anything.”

“Okay, so we’ll get a real tree,” he agreed, glad to have that sorted. “You should get to experience it at least once.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a light coming into her face he usually associated with her while she was talking about her research.

The smile Quinn gave her in response - large and happy and indulgent - made her stomach flutter.

“What do you think the theme should be?” she asked.

“Hu?”

“The theme,” she repeated, “like red, or blue or, like, snow?”

“I don’t…know?”

“Is there anything you really like?”

“I hate the flocking,” he said.

“Not what I asked, but still helpful,” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink.

Quinn felt himself blush. “I don’t know…I feel like I’m bad at this kind of stuff.”

“What kind of stuff,” she asked, guiding them to the decor aisles.

“Decorating and stuff.”

She pshawed, waving her hand, “my mom always said if you like what you come up with, design is never bad. It might not be someone else's taste or style, but it’s not their house.”

Right, her mom was an interior designer.

“What do you like?” he asked, stopping to look at a display of dancing elves. They were sort of horrifyingly kitschy, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like classic things. Like red and green, or blue and white. Or, one year, my mom did this really pretty floral design. That doesn’t really match our vibe, though.”

“Did she design a new tree every year?”

“Sometimes. It all depended on what set her off. She’d sometimes find something like a tartan ribbon, and she’d spin a whole design off of that. We had another little tree in our basement that all of our homemade ornaments went on. We always put presents under that one.”

“Do you want two?”

“Trees?”

“Yeah, one upstairs and one downstairs.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “We could put one by the lucky couch.”

The lucky couch being the suede couch. She’d jokingly called it that after their escapades when the Canucks clinched into the playoffs, “I feel like all I do on this couch is get lucky,” and the name had stuck.

“Do you want that?” she asked now, looking at him seriously.

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what that would be like. Ultimately, he shrugged, “wouldn’t hurt.”

She laughed a little. “How about we sort the theme first?”

He nodded, glad that she had some kind of a plan.

“Why don’t we split up for a minute? We’ll each find a few things we like, and hopefully, a theme will come out of that.” It was something her mom often did when working with clients. It brought out shared styles.

“Okay.”

Sarah wandered off with the cart, heart so full she felt like it might just push into her mouth.

After five minutes, when Quinn didn't come back, she went looking for him. She found him on one of the fringe aisles, locked in a conversation with a star struck fan.

He glanced up when she rounded the corner.

When it became obvious that the person currently holding his attention wouldn't let up anytime soon, he waited for them to finish their thought about the upcoming game and then started to excuse himself. “It was nice talking with you, but I need to be going.”

“Oh,” the guy seemed to remember they were standing in Costco, “of course. Thanks for chatting, man.”

They shook hands, and Quinn stepped around him to join up with Sarah.

“Did you find anything, or did you immediately get bombarded?”

The smile he sent her way was indulgent. “I got a bit of a look.” Taking the other end of the cart, he pulled her down one of the decor aisles and pointed out some different shaped gold glass ornaments.

“I liked those, too, but I liked the silver better.”

“We could get both,” Quinn suggested, lifting a box of each color into the cart.

“You want to go metallic?”

One side of his mouth twisted.

“So, no,” Sarah laughed. “What do you think instead?”

“I don’t know. I just think only metallic is kind of weird.”

“Okay,” Sarah turned to another section of baubles and started putting them between the silver and gold.

They discussed the combinations but couldn’t agree on what colors looked better together.

“Why don’t we just do two trees,” Quinn suggested after having the same circular conversation twice.

Sarah agreed, glad he brought it up again.

“Do you want two live ones?”

“I think we should get one fake one. I’m already a little worried I’m going to forget to water the one.”

“Do we have to water it?”

“I’d imagine so. It’s a living plant, isn’t it?”

He’d never thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Didn’t you have real trees growing up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before sheepishly adding on, “but my mom did all of that.”

Just as he expected, Sarah snorted. “I can’t believe your dad made your mom take care of something for a holiday she doesn’t even celebrate.”

“She celebrated Christmas,” Quinn argued. “It’s not like she was against it or something.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

He smiled indulgently at her.

They spent another hour wandering around Costco, deciding what to buy. Sarah tried not to wince at the price when it totaled on the checking screen. It was their first year, after all. These things would always be basics they could use over and over again.

After loading it in the back of his car and starting for home, Sarah spoke again. “Quinn?”

He glanced at her, worry etched onto his face.

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she assured, reaching for his hand. “This was so thoughtful and kind.”

A smile spread over his face, “you don’t need to thank me, Sarah. “I like when I can do something special for you.”

It wasn’t a strange thing to her anymore, to be with such a caring partner, who not only remembered things about her, but put them to use. Just the other day, he’d brought a set of playing cards home from Seattle after she mentioned wanting to use some different ones in her research with Walter.

Quinn let her pull his hand into her lap, glad that he’d pulled this off and that she’d enjoyed it so much.

When the day of the party arrived, Sarah was feeling remarkably calm.

While they were planning, she felt the weight of hosting the team as the Captain’s girlfriend like a physical thing she had to uphold. Not only did she want everyone to have a good time, she felt it was partially her responsibility to represent Quinn well. Not that he couldn’t do that on his own. He could. It just felt like another mantle she had to uphold and worried she would somehow fail or let him down.

After sharing these fears with her therapist, she helped her to remember that while her fears were understandable, there wasn’t really any basis for them. She’d already spent time with the team with the title of the captain’s girlfriend. The only difference now, as Jenny pointed out, was that she and Quinn were living together. “Which,” Jenny told her, “really only solidifies your relationship. If the team had any issues with Quinn dating you, they would have brought them up a long time ago.”

Now, as she got ready, hosting their first party together felt like a cementing step in their relationship. It felt a bit like something out of a fairy tale.

Pulling at the skirt of her dress until it fell the way it was meant to, she smoothed her hands over her hips as she smiled. It’d been a ridiculously long process to find the right dress, but now that she was on the other side of it, the final result was well worth work.

After going shopping with Bella and Katelyn, she came home empty handed. Everything they'd found was too…much. Too frilly, or too plain. Nothing fit correctly, or it didn’t cover what she wanted covered or didn’t flatter her body. She didn’t even have an image in her head of what she wanted to wear (she rarely did), but nothing they found felt right.

She’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that dress hunting had, at least partially, been so hard because she felt more than a little frumpy and even a little bit fat standing next to both beautiful women. Not that either of them did anything to make her feel that way. They were kind and nice, and two of her best friends among the wives and girlfriends. Still, anytime she tried on a dress, on top of it not being right, when she stood next to them, her eyes were automatically drawn to her hips and stomach, which were so much rounder than either of theirs.

Generally, body image didn’t bother her - she knew she was attractive and knew Quinn found her attractive. Even knowing that, she had a hard time turning off that comparison part of her brain when seeing herself reflected back next to the two thin women she was with.

So, while both of them walked away with beautiful party dresses, Katelyn in a short, delicately sewn green frock, and Bella in a sparkly blue sweeping number, Sarah was forced to go hunting for the perfect dress online. Knowing she was running out of time, she bought fourteen, figuring she would return what she didn’t like.

Of course, it was the last one - which arrived only a week before the party - that finally sang to her. Even Quinn commented on it when he saw it hanging in the closet, telling her, “I like this one.”

“Yeah?”

He’d nodded, offered her a cheeky smile as he said, “I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.”

At the time, she’d laughed and shaken her head, but with the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t been lying.

“Wow,” Quinn said, eyes scanning up and down her body when Sarah walked out of the walk-in closet.

The sparkly fabric cradled her curves as if it had been made for her. He especially liked the way it just barely cupped her ass before billowing down to the floor. He’d never seen her in something so fancy - they’d never had the occasion to dress up like this.

Thoughts of past prom and formal dates skipped through his mind, and he decided she was the prettiest date he’d ever had. Especially with the way the dark red color turned her eyes a stormy blue.

She gave him a teasing, little smile, “you like it?”

Scoffing, he gave up fighting the impulse to grasp her hips. The fabric was smooth and surprisingly soft under his palms. He’d expected the tinsel-y shine to be scratchy. Whoever made it knew what they were doing.

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you all night,” he said as his eyes drank in her figure one more time.

Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him a seductive smile and a wink, “lucky for you, I think we could arrange for you to take me home tonight.”

“Really?” he teased, one hand sliding around to cradle that curve of her butt he’d been admiring earlier.

“Play your cards right, and I think you just might.”

“I might have to corner you under the mistletoe before then.”

“I thought you hated mistletoe,” she said, rolling her eyes. He'd been mildly horrified when he found she'd hung two sprigs of it in the apartment – one in the front hall and one in the doorway to the kitchen.

“I don’t know that I’d hate it with you,” he said, voice soft as he caressed her hips again. “I hated when people would try to corral me under it with some girl they wanted me to date,” he explained. “If it means I get to kiss you, I’m going to take advantage every time I can.”

Thinking of past Christmases and failed mistletoe attempts, Quinn was so struck by her. His life from a year ago had been turned totally upside down. All in good ways, but it was still startling to glance back at how lonely he was last Christmas in comparison to the joy, love, and contentment he felt this year.

“You’re going to be the prettiest girl here,” he said, unable to stop himself from looking her over again.

Though she smiled, she snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You will be,” he insisted, pulling her against him. He couldn’t fight not touching her more.

Deciding she was too tired to push back against his compliments, Sarah leaned in to press her lips to his. With her heels on, he was just an inch taller than she was. Kissing Quinn was never difficult, but she did enjoy the easier access their closer heights allowed for.

He mumbled a noise, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to intensify the kiss.

As she broke away, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “are you not wearing any underwear?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?” she asked, a laugh splitting her mouth into a natural, pretty smile.

“I can’t feel anything,” he explained, running his palm over her bum again.

“Strictly speaking? No.”

His eyes grew round with shock.

“But I have shape wear on, so it’s kind of worse. Harder to get off.”

An almost relieved smile crossed his face.

“Why?”

“I just…I was gonna have a real hard time tonight if you weren’t wearing anything under this dress,” he admitted as his palm slid up the curve of her body.

“I don’t think I could face a party with your teammates without any underwear on.”

“Too bad,” he tsked, “then I really wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.”

“Be a good boy,” she admonished, moving his fingers from where they were sneaking under the straps.

Licking his lips, Quinn looked into her face, his expression eager.

She held his gaze, letting the tension build between them.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against her leg. He didn’t look away.

“That’ll be the food,” she said, breaking the spell. “You better go grab it.”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head gently, Quinn reminded himself they were heading into a party and now was not the time for him to start fantasizing. “I’ll be right back.”

“Those pants still look super hot on you!” she called, following him.

A few weeks before, she’d first told him she liked them by sending him a Canucks Instagram story that showed him walking through the arena parking garage, along with the message, got me drooling over your thighs in this suit. The gray fabric was cut close, making his legs look deliciously thick and muscled.

His laughter echoed off the windows as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m wearing them just for you!” he called back before the front door shut.

Making her way down to the kitchen, Sarah surveyed the apartment on the way. They had decided to put the second tree next to the lucky couch, which only served to make the spot more romantic. Since it’d gone up, they’d spent at least one night a week curled up together reading by it’s light. It was decorated in silver and green, while the larger, fresh tree was decorated in classic red and gold, including some geometric diamonds her mom used in their last family tree. Sarah had asked her sister, Rachel, if she could send them to her. It was nice, having that little part of her mom in the house at a time they both loved so much, nice to see pieces of Quinn mixed in with everything.

Other than the trees, there were no other holiday decorations besides a Christmas Village that had belonged to her dad, which was set up on the sideboard in the living room.

An hour later, almost everyone was there, dressed in their holiday finery.

Quinn had an incredibly soft, dark green cashmere sweater on over top of a white dress shirt. He’d almost worn the bomb cufflinks Sarah had given him, but at the last minute, he decided it would be more practical if he rolled his sleeves up.

The way Sarah’s eyes lingered on his forearms when he had told him he made the right choice.

Sarah had insisted the men needed to wear slacks, “if the women are putting on dresses, it’s the least you can do. No dude gets to show up in jeans when women have to wear shape wear.”

He said he saw her point and dropped the bad news on the boys the following day.

“Oh my God!” Bella gushed, walking into the house. “It looks gorgeous in here!”

“Thank you. It was really fun to decorate together for the first time.”

“Huggy helped with this?” Brock asked dubiously, walking up and slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. Sarah swore they both could wear head to toe hunting orange and still be the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen. Seeing them dressed for the season was like looking into a catalog, two perfect people in exactly the perfect clothes, matched to perfection. If they stood by the tree, she was pretty sure she could submit the picture to any department store in the world, and they’d put them in an ad without question. It was quite stunning, really.

“He did,” Sarah said, beaming. “We decided on the theme together and got decorations, and we put up the trees before you guys left over Thanksgiving.”

“Brock never helps with stuff like that,” Bella teased.

“I offered!” Brock corrected. “She said she doesn't trust my taste,” he told Sarah conspiratorially before dropping a kiss to Bella’s cheek and announcing, “I’m going to get us drinks.”

“Oh my god,” Bella exclaimed once he was gone, “where did you find this dress? It’s, like, perfect!”

“Its from this Australian company called Blackmilk. It was the last one to arrive,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes, “of course.”

“Well, it was worth the wait. You look killer. Your ass looks insane.”

Sarah laughed, “the spanx have a lot to do with that.”

Bella shook her head, “no. You have a great ass. I wish I had curves like yours.”

Glancing down at herself, then at Bella’s petite frame, Sarah wondered who it served for women to be pitted against each other this way. The beauty industry, probably. Whoever invented spanx.

“That's sweet, thank you.”

Bella hooked her arm through Sarah's and demanded a tour of the apartment with everything decorated.

Watching from across the living room as Sarah opened the door, looking comfortable and every part the hostess, Quinn smiled, glad to see her feeling so at home.

He was only a little surprised to see the Millers on the other side of the door. He’d invited them, but didn’t hear anything back.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Sarah gushed, accepting the box of chocolates Natalie offered, before wrapping her in a hug.

There had been some debate whether or not the Millers would be able to attend - it was their first team function in quite a while - but Sarah was extremely glad they were here. It wouldn’t feel like a team party without them.

“Come in, come in. We have cocktails and mocktails and lots of food,” she said, turning to embrace JT.

He smiled, uncharacteristically quiet.

Natalie stayed by Sarah’s side as he wandered into the party, getting progressively louder as he bro-hugged and took some ribbing from his teammates, jibing them in turn as if no time had passed. “Thank you for not making a big deal of this,” she said.

Sarah shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

The other woman gave her a watery smile, and Sarah took her arm to pull her into the house, “what can I get you to drink?”

The one thing Quinn hadn’t counted on when planning this party was how much he’d be separated from her. When they attended parties in the past, they were often together, or at least not apart for long. Now, with the role of hosts, they had people to talk to and drinks to refresh, and it felt like everything was pulling them away from each other, rather than closer together.

As the night went on, even though they were still separated, Quinn found he always seemed to know where Sarah was. Not just from her laugh, which he did hear in abundance, or from glimpsing light glinting off her sparkly dress, which occasionally flashed in the corners of his vision. No, it was that same magnetic force that pulled him to her the first time he saw her, still in full effect.

He was talking with Conor when he felt that longing hook in his navel, nudging him in her direction.

When he looked up, however, he couldn’t see her. It only took a moment for her to reappear, walking from the kitchen, smiling at something Meghan was showing her on her phone. Probably photos of Quint, he guessed. She had a new bottle of Perrier in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other.

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up.

Once their eyes met, their connection followed suit, snapping into alignment as they held each other's gaze. He was on the other side of the apartment, in the living room, but for a brief moment, it seemed everyone else fell away and they were alone in the house again.

She winked, and a ridiculous, cheesy smile took over his whole face.

They’d taken pictures in front of the Christmas tree at the beginning of the night as soon as Elias and Katelyn had arrived and could hold the camera. Sarah wanted to send them to her family. He’d smiled when the photo had popped up in the chat she had with his family. His mom had almost immediately hearted the photo and gushed over how beautiful Sarah looked in her dress.

You look nice too, Quinn, Luke had quipped.

That had been the last time he had his hands on her, and watching her chat with Meghan as she tipped fresh ice into the metal bucket, he was itching to touch her again.

“So, what did you think of that video session today?” Conor asked.

“Hu?” Quinn murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Sarah as she started to laugh.

Conor followed his sightline. “Oh god, you’re hopeless,” he murmured. “Go get your fix, then come talk to me,” he said, tone only half joking as he pushed Quinn’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” Quinn asked, throwing a smile in Meghan's direction as he walked up to them.

Not waiting for an answer, he took the bowl from Sarah's hand, setting it on the bar cart and leading her back in the direction of the kitchen by a loose grip on her upper arm.

“Quinn, what's wrong?” she asked, glancing back to make sure Meghan didn't feel abandoned. Thankfully, Natalie had taken her place in the conversation.

“Nothing wrong,” he said, stopping to lean in the kitchen doorway.

One of her eyebrows raised, “you just needed to come hang out in the kitchen?”

A snort of laughter escaped his mouth before he pointed up. Sarah followed his finger to the little sprig of fake mistletoe she’d hung there. “I thought you were joking,” she said, her eyes coming back to his face.

“About this dress?” he asked, slipping his hands over her hips and around to hold her bum. “Or about wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe?”

She glanced back to the party, hoping no one caught Quinn groping her so openly. “I don't know. About the cornering bit, I guess.”

A smile crept over his face, “how else was I supposed to guarantee we'd end up here together?”

Sarah tried to roll her eyes but ended up smiling instead. It was nice to feel so wanted.

“I missed you,” he said, nudging her to step toward him by tightening his hands.

“Quinn, people can see,” she admonished, even as she moved closer.

“So?”

“So you have your hands all over my ass in plain sight.”

“I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting to touch you in this dress,” he said.

A thrill spiked in her chest. She’d never had this much pull over a man. “And what were you hoping for under this mistletoe?” she asked.

“Just need a minute to tide me over until the party ends,” he murmured, leaning in.

His lips brushed over hers.

Deciding she didn’t care if people saw, Sarah sighed into him. Everyone knew they were dating, after all. More than dating - they were living together. They were throwing a party together. No one would be shocked to see them under the mistletoe.

Allowing herself to sink into the kiss, she opened her mouth and welcomed the sweet, tangy taste of his tongue. He must have just drunk some of the cranberry punch she made.

A contented noise escaped his mouth, and Quinn leaned a little closer, savoring the hint of chocolate liqueur in her mouth.

The knowledge that his entire team and their partners were in the house caught up to him, and Quinn pulled back. He didn’t really want to, but he also didn’t want the ribbing that would surely come his way if it went any farther.

He just needed to make it to that evening anyway.

Pursing his lips together, he met her eyes.

Her smile told him she was looking just as forward to the end of the party as he was.

The anticipation of it spiked in his stomach, making him feel giddy.

The laughter and drinks kept flowing long after the gift exchange wound down.

In an effort to do something different from the year before, they’d proposed a white elephant type exchange, but each gift had to be worth at least 100 dollars and something nice, not jokey.

The most fought over gifts were a bottle of imported Irish Whiskey Dakota brought and a diamond necklace Sarah had found in a vintage shop along her regular route home.

Quinn ended up with a pair of tickets to a cooking class with a local chef, while Sarah ended up with a ridiculously soft cashmere scarf.

Though Sarah expected that everyone, with their rigorous travel schedules, would want to get home as soon as possible, it seemed they all were savoring the time together without their kids and without the pressure of practice or a game.

It was nice to see all the guys casual and carefree in a way that didn’t happen very often. She rarely saw the whole team so relaxed together.

When it became evident that everyone would be staying much later than anticipated, Sarah started to readjust her expectations for the evening. The way things were going, they’d be too tired to do anything but do a quick clean of the apartment and flop into bed when the night wound down.

Quinn was chatting with Lankinen in the kitchen, looking so effortlessly handsome in his sweater and slacks. Those slacks really should be a crime. his thighs looked good enough to bite. And then he’d gone and rolled up his sleeves. He had strong wrists and forearms, and when he wore shirts like this, she always felt a strange surge of attraction to them.

As she continued to stare, just as she expected would happen, he looked up to meet her gaze.

She gave a subtle head tilt toward the entry hall and raised her eyebrows.

A smile crept over his face, and he nodded.

Trying to be casual, she made her way to the front door. She’d hung mistletoe in the entryway, imagining kissing each other hello and goodbye at the door, even though that rarely happened in their everyday life.

By the time Quinn was able to make his excuses and follow Sarah to the front door, she’d been there for several minutes, He found her leaning against the wall, with her head tilted back, seemingly savoring the time alone.

He was just wondering if he should leave and come back when she glanced over.

A smile immediately spread over her face, and she straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the distance between them.

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, just for him.

Slipping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. Even in the dim, entryway light, she could see how the color of his sweater brought out the green in his eyes, making them a mottled, foresty color.

“You should wear green more often.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers wove themselves into the curls at the base of his skull. “It brings out the color in your eyes.”

He fluttered his lashes, and she giggled. “Can you just learn to take a compliment?”

A blush flashed over his cheeks.

“You’re just really handsome,” she said, almost as if it was a confession.

Quinn resisted the urge to deflect the compliment and busied himself with running his hands over the smooth fabric of her dress. “You should wear this all the time.”

“All the time?” she repeated.

He nodded.

“Even at the aquarium?”

A laugh chuffed out of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” he continued before she could cut in, “you just look really beautiful in it.”

She knew how Quinn felt about this dress, he’d made that abundantly clear throughout the night - checking her out each time she entered the room and with his little stunt in the kitchen - but hearing the sincerity in his voice now made it burrow home with a bit more force.

It was her turn to blush.

“You’re doing okay?” he asked. “I can start telling people they need to leave.”

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’m having fun. Just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

Quinn felt a ridiculously big smile spread over his face. “Always happy to do that,” he said, leaning closer.

As their mouths melted together, Sarah thought she heard shushing but pushed the whispers out of her mind, relishing the stolen moment alone.

She didn’t think about it for the rest of the night, which lasted well into the next morning. By the time everyone left, after Natalie and JT stayed late to help them clean up, it was past two.

Glancing at her phone for the first time after loading the dishwasher, Sarah was surprised to see she had a message from Katelyn. When she opened it, she found a dimly lit photo of her and Quinn in the entryway, kissing under the mistletoe. His hands were on her waist, and hers were in his hair. Through her editing magic, Kate had blurred everything else in the background, making the photo look just like Sarah felt in that moment – as if she and Quinn were in their own little bubble.

Caught you guys under the mistletoe. It was too cute not to take a pic. Hope you don’t mind. Thanks for a great party. E was telling me on the way home how happy Q’s been since he met you. Anyway, just glad this crazy world brought us together. Love you, girl.

Love you too. Thank you for the beautiful picture.

Katelyn hearted the message, and when Sarah showed it to Quinn, he said, “that one should go in the launch deck, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded, her movement slow with sudden fatigue.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from the kitchen and the dishes. “We can finish this up in the morning. Let’s get to bed.”

Too tired to argue that they really should just get it all done now, she let him lead her upstairs.

They got ready for bed, and as he pulled her close, Quinn whispered, “I love you, you know that?”

“I know.” It took a sleepy minute for her to continue, “I love you, too. I’m glad we did this.”

Tucking his nose into her hair, Quinn breathed in her familiar scent. His voice was dim when he thanked her.

She turned, pressing her nose into the divot of his collar bone so he felt and heard her next words.

“I’m glad this Christmas is with you.”

“I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

#quinn & sarah snapshots #quinn hughes #qh43 #qhughes #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x ofc #quinn hughes au #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction #hockey romance #ho ho hockey 2024 🎄#ho ho hockey master list 🎄#Spotify

206 notes · View notes

quintinh43 · 11 months ago

Text

The Best Summer Ever | Quinn Hughes

Summary: First summer at the lakehouse, and it couldn't be better.

Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Teacher!Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, just some pure sweetness. Part of this universe but can be read on its own!

Wc: 3.6k

As you lounge in the backyard of the lake house, with a book in hand, working on your tan, and Quinn napping beside you, you surmise that coming to Michigan with Quinn for the summer was one of the best decisions you've ever made.

Quinn lays on his stomach, with his head pillowed in the crook of his arms. He hadn't planned to nap, but the two of you had gone on a run along the waterline this morning, and then Quinn had a training session with the boys. He had conked out, less than ten minutes after he had stretched out beside you.

You glance at the time on your phone, Quinn has been asleep for almost an hour. You bookmark your page, deciding it's time to wake him up, before his lovely golden tan turns into a massive sunburn. You flip onto your stomach and delve your fingers into Quinn's hair, gently working through the tangles.

The humidity was doing wonders for his curls, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't absolutely head over heels for summertime Quinn. The tan, the curls, the way his cheeks always seemed to be flushed from heat, the smile that seemed permanently etched into his face. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, and your other hand traces light patterns along his spine.

Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders and upper back, your fingers massage his scalp steadily. He makes a low noise of contentment, and you grin against his sun-kissed skin. "Quinn," you murmur against his skin.

He doesn't respond. You press a kiss to the crook of his neck, and he stirs under you. Another behind his ear. And the underside of his jaw.

His chest rumbled with a soft hum, and he nuzzled his head against the crook of his arm with a sleepy sigh. You giggle and pull out your phone to snap a photo of him. He reminds you of a cat napping in the sun.

"Quintin," you mutter against his skin, he gives you a sleepy grunt, "wake up honey," you say softly, carding your fingers through his hair, "if you don't turn over you're going to get a horrid burn on your back," you coax, tugging ever so gently on his curly locks.

Quinn rolls over with a huff. Suddenly his arms are around you and he's pulling you on top of him. You squeal in surprise as he situates you between his legs comfortably, your forearms resting on either side of his head. He squints one eye open, with a glare. Half because you woke him up and half because the sun was so bright.

"Why'd you wake me up?" He huffs.

You snort, detangling yourself from his arms, "Cause you whine like a bitch when you're sunburnt." His jaw drops, and you grin, kissing him on the cheek sweetly.

"I can't believe you just called me a bitch," he gasps, all traces of sleep disappearing from his body.

"I'm just telling the truth," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Quinn sits up, pulling your sunglasses off, you squint your eyes, frowning at the sudden brightness.

You screech in alarm, as Quinn is suddenly grabbing you around the waist, holding you tight to his body and walking towards the dock. "Quinn," you gasp "What are you doing?"

"I think someone needs to cool down her attitude a little," Quinn smirks, his tone like he's scolding a child.

"Quinn," there's slight panic in your tone, "please no, I'm sorry" You flail your legs trying to escape his hold before he tosses you into the lake.

"Sorry baby, I can't hear you over my bitchiness," Quinn snarks, nipping at your ear playfully. You yelp, twisting in his hold.

"I didn't mean it, you aren't a bitch, you're the sweetest man to ever exist, you have never been bitchy in your life! You deserve the world and I love you with all my heart!" You ramble, pressing kisses to his face in hopes that he will have mercy.

Quinn is smiling mischievously, "Gotta do better than that baby," he's standing at the edge of the dock.

"Quintin Jerome Hughes!" You warn, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, "I swear to God if you-" Before you can finish your threat, Quinn is jumping off the dock with you wrapped around him.

The shock of being plunged into cold water after being in the sun for over an hour is brutal. You resist the urge to scream purely because you're underwater and you don't need a mouth full of water.

As your heads break the surface, you gasp for air. Quinn's grin is infectious and you can't help but grin back. "How's the attitude? Cooled off yet?" He asks smirking.

You unwrap your legs from around his waist, kicking them back and forth underwater to help keep the two of you afloat. Your arms wrap around his neck tugging on his now wet hair, "Think I'm still a bit hot," you smile teasingly, pushing on his shoulders to dunk his head under water.

Quinn gasps for air as he goes down. You cackle as he fails to drag you under with him. He comes up, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, and lunging after you with a grin. You swim away with screeching laughter. You splash Quinn aggressively in an attempt to save yourself.

Suddenly there’s a loud whooping coming from the dock, along with heavy footsteps. Then Jack is cannonballing into the water. Luke follows after him flipping off the dock in a fancy maneuver that briefly leaves your heart in your throat. As soon as their heads break the surface, they grin mischievously. The four of you lose track of time and end up fooling around in the water for hours, splashing, wrestling, racing, and every other possible game you can think of.

By the time Ellen is calling you out of the water to get ready for dinner like a bunch of children, Jack is sporting a wicked sunburn across his nose and cheeks and you and Luke have probably swallowed half of Lake Erie from the amount that Quinn and Jack have been dunking you under water and splashing you in the face.

You hoist yourself onto the dock and offer Quinn a hand to help pull him up, he takes it with a grin and pulls you back into the water with a cackle. You pout at him, as you move your wet hair out of your eyes. Quinn kisses the pout right off your face, and you can’t help but melt into it, locking your arms around his neck and kissing him back.

“Ewwww!” Luke screeches, as he and Jack begin to splash the two of you all over again.

“Children!” Ellen barks, unable to keep the smile off her face, “Out of the water or you will be late for your dinner plans!”

There is a collective grumbling amongst the four of you, but you exit the water nonetheless. This time, Quinn doesn't pull you back into the water, lest he face the wrath of his mother. Ellen and Jim had plans with a few of their friends while Luke and Jack had been invited to have dinner with a few other NHL guys who lived on the lake. Originally, you and Quinn had been invited too, but Quinn had politely declined in favour of taking you out on a good ol’ classy dinner date at the country club.

As bad as you felt about declining the invite, you were excited to have Quinn to yourself for the evening. The only time you and Quinn got a moment alone for yourselves was usually when you were going to sleep, so you were looking forward to this Dinner date.

Quinn wraps a towel over your shoulders as the four of you head up to the house, Jack and Luke sprinting ahead to fight over who gets to use their shower first. “You shower first?” Quinn mutters against your wet hair.

“We could shower together,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively “save some water.” Quinn chuckles, pressing another kiss to your hair fondly, “Trust me, baby, if we shower together, we definitely won’t be saving water.”

You laugh along with him, knowing he’s right, “I’ll be quick,” you assure, stripping out of your swimsuit and stepping under the cool spray of water. You run through your shower steps as quickly as you can and are in and out in ten minutes. While Quinn showers you do your hair and makeup, keeping it simple and sticking to your usual routine for fancier events. As you apply mascara on your lashes, you’re a bit giddy for dinner tonight.

The dress you picked out, was a classy white number that you had been saving for something fancy, and you were excited to finally be able to wear it. And also to see Quinn’s reaction to you in it. He hops out of the shower and is quick to change into a stylish short-sleeved white button-up and a pair of beige slacks.

“Do my hair?” he asks, tipping his head towards you in invitation. You smile, running some hair oil and a bit of curl product through his locks so they are nice and defined, he kisses you on the cheek in thanks, “I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he says stealing one last kiss.

He slips out of the room, and you lock the door behind him as you pull the dress out from the back of the closet. You get dressed, grab your bag and your trusty pair of nude heels, and go exit the room. As soon as you appear at the top of the stairs, Quinn's eyes are drawn to you. His jaw drops, and his eyes soften with love as you fuss over trying to fit your phone in your bag.

You look up to find Quinn staring at you and your cheeks warm. One thing about Quinn is that there is meaning in everything he does. He is purposeful and thorough, and he works hard for what he wants. So when he pins you with that look, you feel loved, purposefully, and wholeheartedly, and damn if that isn't the best feeling ever. You lock eyes with Quinn, and his lips curl into a soft, adoring smile.

Everything else falls away as you descend the stairs. It's just you and Quinn. He makes you feel like a princess, and he is your prince charming waiting at the bottom, hand extended towards you, ready to lead you to your happily ever after.

“Hi,” he whispers as you take his hand, he brushes a gentle kiss on the backs of your knuckles and your stomach flutters.

“Hi,” you smile, staring up at him through your lashes. You thought it would be impossible to love this man even more than you already did, but every day he proves you wrong, “I Love you,” you murmur softly.

“I love you too,” He smiles, and damn if you don't wanna abandon your dinner and spend the night in his arms.

Ellen rounds the corner and is immediately gushing over the two of you, “Oh, just look at you two! Come here I want pictures,” you slip on your heels as she ushers the two of you in front of the mantel, much to Quinn's chagrin.

“Mom please,” Quinn whines, “we’re not kids, and this is not prom,” you snicker at his whining, secretly happy that Ellen is making the two of you take photos.

“You may not be kids, but you're still my children, now pose,” she demands, holding up her phone.

Quinn wraps an arm around your waist and you place a hand on his chest as the two of you smile at his mom's camera. After she snaps probably over a hundred photos Quinn is practically pulling you out of the door, with the boat keys in hand, “better not get me wet,” you warn, as you carefully smooth down your dress.

“Wouldn't dream of it,” Quinn chuckles as the boat hums to life. You sit in the seat across from Quinn, legs curled under your chin resting against your hand as you take in the way the dipping sun reflects on the water. The golden halo of sunlight that illuminates you makes you look like an angel. Quinn is absolutely enraptured by your beauty, if he could freeze this moment in time, he would.

The boat ride from the lake house to the country club takes less than twenty minutes, it would have been faster if Quinn wasn't trying to keep the both of you dry. He parks the boat on one of the docks, and hops over the edge of the boat, holding his hand out to you. You take it gratefully, not letting go even when you are safe on solid ground.

So far you've only been to the Country Club during the day when the boys deemed it a golf day, or to play tennis, or grab something easy for lunch before going right back out in the boat. In the early evening, it almost seemed like a completely different place.

You hold onto Quinn's bicep, fingers tapping nervously against corded muscle, as he leads you through the front foyer of the building. Quinn squeezes your hand reassuringly. It's at moments like these that you feel self-conscious about the fact that you're dating a Superstar Captain of the NHL. He could be doing much better than a lowly elementary school teacher.

It's as if Quinn can read your negative thoughts. He looks at you, face soft with concern, nodding his head to ask if you're ok. You give him a tight smile and nod, squeezing his bicep again, as you dispel all the thoughts from your head. Quinn wants you. That's why you're here.

A pretty hostess, dressed from head to toe in black, is quick to find you. “Do you have a reservation?” she asks professionally.

“Yep,” Quinn answers with a polite smile, “It should be under Hughes,”

The hostess clicks a few times on her iPad, and her eyes light up as she clocks in Quinn's reservation, “Right this way please,” she leads you through The main dining room, up a set of stairs and out onto the rooftop patio with the most magnificent view of the lake. “Someone will be right with you,” she smiles.

“Thank you,” you and Quinn say simultaneously. He pulls out your chair, and you smile at him, smoothing your dress out as you sit down.

“Quinn, this is so beautiful,” you gasp, taking in the view.

“Yeah it is,” he says smirking. His eyes are locked on you, and when you notice your cheeks flush.

“You're so cheesy,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread in your napkin.

“You love it,” Quinn smirks.

At that moment a Waiter appears, offering the two of you menus, and asking what you would like to drink. Quinn orders some kind of expensive wine, and the waiter leaves to retrieve it and give you time to look over your menus. It's much fancier than you're used to, and it's a little overwhelming, but Quinn happily takes charge, keeping a comforting hand on your thigh under the table.

Once the food is ordered and you both have a few glasses of wine in your system everything feels much easier. Along the way, your heels got discarded under the table, and your bare foot was resting on Quinn's thigh, rubbing up and down teasingly.

Your foot strays a bit too high and Quinn wraps a hand around your ankle, stopping your foot from moving any closer to his dick. He throws you a dark, lust-filled look that holds a promise for later, and you smirk at him teasingly. All in all, the dinner was absolutely amazing. The food was delicious and you were absolutely elated to have Quinn to yourself for a few hours.

“Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” Quinn asks as the two of you leave the restaurant hand in hand. The sun is just dipping below the horizon, casting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, pink and purple.

“Absolutely I do,” you grin, hanging into his arm. The two of you deposit your shoes in the boat and walk along the waterline. Quinn has an arm draped over your shoulder, and yours is wrapped around his waist fingers dancing under his shirt and across the bare skin of his torso. You lean your head on his shoulder and his fingers draw patterns on your arm. You wish you could burn this moment into permanence.

“I can't wait to do this with you every summer,” you say quietly, afraid to disrupt the peace of the moment. Quinn pulls his arm from your shoulders, it takes you a few steps to realize he isn't walking, and when you turn to see what's wrong, your hands fly to your mouth with a gasp.

Quinn is down on one knee, with a ring box open in his hands. Somehow the only thing you can think is that his pants are going to get dirty from kneeling in the damp sand.

“Your pants are going to get dirty,” you croak, voice thick with emotion. Quinn chuckles, shaking his head fondly.

“Y/n,” he starts, with a soft breath, “I know we've technically only been dating for a few months. But for as long as I've known you I knew I wanted to do forever with you.” he takes a shaky breath “Honestly, I had a whole speech written, but you look so angelic in the sunset that it all left my brain.”

You let out a choked giggle, as tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You kneel down in front of him, resting your shaky hands on his knee.

“Your dress is gonna get dirty” Quinn parrots, and it's your turn to laugh at him.

Quinn takes another deep breath, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you would be special to me. Knowing you for the past six years of my life has been the greatest blessing that I could've asked for. The easiest thing I've ever done in my life is love you, and god- there aren't words to describe how much I love you and what you mean to me. I want to spend forever with you by my side.” The tears that decorate the rims of Quinn’s eyes finally spill over, “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the greatest honour in being my wife?”

An ugly sob escapes your lips and you throw your arms around his neck, “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes,” you cry, pressing kisses to his face, there is salt on your lips and at this point, you aren't sure if they are your tears or his. Quinn finds your left hand and slips the ring onto your fourth finger. You take a minute to really look at it, and all of a sudden, you're crying all over again. It's everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

You throw your arms around Quinn again, dragging him down for a kiss, he holds you tight to his body, kissing you back like it's the last time he'll ever get to do so. As Quinn licks at the seam of your lips, something in the back of your mind reminds you that you're in public, but you can't bring yourself to care enough to stop kissing him.

The clicking of a camera accompanied by sniffling is what drags you out of your moment with Quinn. You look over to find Jack and Luke. Jack holding up his old camera from back when he had a hobby in photography and Luke holding up his phone. They're both teary-eyed with huge smiles on their faces.

Quinn stands, pulling you with him, and then Luke and Jack are throwing themselves at the two of you, and everyone is holding onto each other. There are so many tears it's hard to tell who's crying and who's not. Eventually Jack and Luke detach themselves from the two of you, wiping at their eyes and grinning wildly.

“I can't believe you said yes to spending the rest of your life with our stinky big brother,” Luke wrinkles his nose.

“Shut it, Moose,” Quinn rolls his eyes, pushing his brother playfully.

“I know you said yes, but it's not too late to blink twice if you need help,” Jack says seriously.

You laugh, knowing they are joking, but nothing could pry you from Quinn at this moment. Jack convinces the two of you to pose for a few more pictures, in the fading twilight. He captures a few absolutely stunning ones of your ring, promising that everything will be sent to you after he edits them. Eventually the four of you part ways, Jack and Luke heading to their car and you and Quinn back to the boat.

The drive back to the lake house is much chiller now that the sun is almost entirely gone. Quinn smiles knowingly, pulling a hoodie out of one of the seat compartments. You slip it over your head, sighing happily as the scent of Quinn engulfs you. He pulls you into his lap, keeping an arm securely around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head against the crook of his neck.

“I love you so so much Quinny,” you whisper, “I'm excited to spend forever with you,”

“Me too, my love, me too” Quinn sighs happily, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

A sudden thought hits you, and the biggest smile blooms on your face, "I can't wait to be Mrs. Hughes," you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Quinns eyes twinkle lovingly, "That has a nice ring to it,"

"Yeah,"

Ok idk how I feel about this!

I started it and I loved it. Then I wrote the middle and I still loved it. And then I wrote the end, and I still loved it. And now that I have to post it I fucking hate it! So that's nice!

Anyways hope yall enjoy.

Leave comments cause I'm an attention whore 🥰

Also, this series likely won't be updated for a while, cause I never originally planned to make it a series anyways, but here we are! Just cause I have a lot of one-shots floating around in my notes that I wanna work on. If there's anything yall wanna see from this series, let me know and I might write that!

Also, I am working on those blurb requests! I promise! I'll start posting them eventually!

Apologies for the ramble, love yall <3

#quinn hughes #qh43 #hughes brothers #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #captain quinn #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #loving you is as easy as abc 123 #idk how i feel about this so i nesd yall to hype me up

714 notes · View notes

athenaswrath · 1 year ago

Text

Until I Found You - Chapter 1

Quinn Hughes x reader

This chapter is more of a background story/introduction of the reader (no Quinn yet)

Word count: 829

>Chapter 1< Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

You were looking for a job when you had the amazing idea to go for one on a hockey team, the only sport I actually enjoy. When I got a call saying I got the job on marketing and social media for the Devils I was head over heels

The day they introduced me to the players I was terribly nervous, I'm not a social person at all, and being surrounded by a group of loud, confident and cocky men was not the best for my anxiety.

After a couple of days with them they noticed how uncomfortable I was being the spotlight so Nico made it his job to make me feel at ease, and to my surprise all of his closest group welcomed me in, even Jack, which sometimes had trouble keeping his flirtatious personality down with me being the only young woman on the road.

Luke on the other way was way too cute and immediately told me he consideres me a sister, saying that he'd traded me for Jack any time.

After a couple of weeks Jack spent some alone time with me, saying that I gave him the peace he'd never had before. He also started saying I was like a twin sister, obviously it had everything to do with our age and nothing with our looks.

I was in my office editing some videos for the last days of the season when Jack came through the door "Hey shortie"

"Jack, for the last time I'm 5'9" I said not even looking up from my work. He didn't have time to reply before Luke also entered the room "Hey shortie" he said in his cheery way.

"Hey pookie" I replied seconds before Jack whined "why does he get to call you that and not me?" I just laughed before looking up and seeing their nervous features. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" "Dammit" they answered at the same time, I raised an eyebrow and Luke continued "We just... We know that you are going to spend your free time alone and that's fine, there's nothing wrong with that, and I'm sure you'd enjoy it..."

"Luke" Jack said stopping Luke's rambling. "Right... So we wanted to know if you'd like to join us on our lake house these couple of months. It's just us, Zegras, Drysdale, Holtzy and Quinn... I mean sure mom and dad are going to visit a couple of days but..."

"No, no you guys have done so much for me already I can't just take a free vacation at your house. I appreciate it really but I just can't"

Ever since you joined the Devils, they wouldn't allow you pay for anything, everyone treated you like a princess "you're Belle for sure, a beauty and a bookworm" said Holtz one day you mentioned the special treatment

One could say that everyone could kill for that, specially coming from hockey boys, but you couldn't help to ask yourself "am I being a burden? Do they pity me? Do they think I'm a golddigger? A Puck Bunny?"

But I know they love me... Well, sometimes I do. It's hard for me to accept that, when your whole life you've been told by your own family you're annoying and there's not really something to care or love about you.

When your family told you they didn't want to have you home giving them a hard time and cut communication with you, you were heartbroken and desperate for money working multiple jobs until 2 years later you finally found this place you felt peace at.

The problem is no one but Nico knows that it's only you against the world. The rest of the team is oblivious to how sometimes you skip meals in order to save money to have a decent department, or how no one ever visits you, not even in family events.

"Are you listening to me? Are you okay?" Jack's voice took me out of my thoughts and he was close to my face looking at me with a serious expression, which was unusual on him

When I didn't say anything, he said "Darling we want you there you're part of our freak family want it or not. And God knows we need you there, there has to be at least one responsable person... Also it's about a damn time that you meet Quinn"

You've met Jim and Ellen before, but you've never met the oldest Hughes brother, the first time Vancouver played against New Jersey I had the flu and I could get close to anyone to not put them at risk. The second time Quinn was out due to an injury

"Please shortie, you'll break my heart if you refuse to go" said Luke giving his biggest puppy eyes

"Are you sure everyone's okay with me joining, I don't wanna be a bu..."

"Stop it, we all want you there"

Hoping they wouldn't regret their choice and you let yourself be happy for a while you finally agreed to join them.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes oneshot #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot

221 notes · View notes

sc0tters · 1 year ago

Text

Little Flame | Quinn Hughes

summary: when the flames came to visit it brought back old memories, including why you hated quinn.

pairing: quinn hughes x andrei kuzmenko’s fuck buddy

trope: division rivals

warnings: sexual themes, p in v (unprotected), oral (fem receiving), degradation, slight choking, slight spit play? swearing.

word count: 6.51k

authors note: this was a long one so strap in! it’s hot and about time for us to all get our inner sluts out and we have @sweetestdesire to thank for helping get this one started! Kinda tried something different so let’s see if that paid off!

Quinn always seemed to dislike you.

From the moment you met him you were both constantly against each other. It all started during your time at UMich, you were both in the same class and from the moment you met you weren’t meant to get on.

Constantly arguing as you were forced into the same friend group, due to your position as the student physio on the hockey team. The two of you were at odds “you got a problem?” You scoffed furrowing your eyebrows as you felt him staring at you.

It was any standard Friday night with a party at one of the frats “just wondering where on the invite came the costume theme?” He joked gripping at the neck of his beer bottle.

You were in a sequin crop top with a denim skirt and cowgirl boots “you jealous I’m getting the only attention between the two of us?” You scoffed as he was in a basic tee and shorts.

The comment made him let out a dry laugh “I think you’re the only one who isn’t giving me attention.” It was no secret just how much most girls liked him, and that the only attention he got from you were threats of ramming your foot up his ass.

There was a gleam in his eyes “but here you still are stood in front of me so.” He trailed off letting a smirk form on his lips.

Your hands formed fists by your sides “in your dreams Hughes.” You grumbled ignoring how your cheeks went red when you pushed past him to leave “you wouldn’t as argumentative in those!” Quinn grunted watching you walk back to your friends.

The way your hands moved around made it clear that you were visibly angry “hey he’s probably leaving at the end of the season anyways.” One of your friends sighed as she placed a comforting hand in your shoulder wanting to comfort you.

That all took place over five years ago and you hadn’t seen Quinn since. Sure you heard all about his achievements and accomplishments as he made captain of the Canucks. But you were able to avoid him whenever it was possible that your paths would cross.

Working for the Flames left only a handful of occasions where you could have seen him and each time you managed to be the secondary physio leaving you inside the locker rooms “please do it for me?” Andrei whined as he pulled you into his lap after he heard that you tried getting secondary for the Canuck game again.

You pushed your lips into a fine line as placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself “I can make it worth your while.” He trailed off as he ran his fingers up your torso under your shirt “shouldn’t you always be doing that.” You teased holding back a smile as you grazed your lips over his pulling away from him the moment he leaned in for more like you were taunting him.

Andrei let his eyes sharpen into yours “you know I always play better when you are around the night before.” It was a new known thing between the two of you that since you started sleeping together the night before a game, Andrei started playing much better.

His efforts made you laugh “want to show you my old city.” He explained kissing your neck as he smiled looking up at you. You had been assigned as his tour guide when he was traded from the Canucks. It seemed like you both hit it off as the tour ended up in the back of his car and before you knew it, you were in his bed a lot.

It was sweet being with him but your favourite part was that you constantly had someone to fulfil your sexual needs. All it took was one message to Andrei and he was on his way to your place. There were never any labels on the relationship and that was what made it so easy.

Andrei kept his promise as he showed you parts of Vancouver that you never had the chance to see prior to the trip as you guys had a free afternoon. You had to admit that the trip was kind of fun. It was enjoyable being with him as he showed you the city he loved “and your good day isn’t over yet.” He teased you as he wrapped his hands around your shoulders.

It made a laugh leave your lips “careful on setting my expectations too high now.” You fiddled with his hat as you each had lousy disguises.

Before he had the chance to respond, something else caught his eyes “Quinn?” A gasp left Andrei’s lips as he stopped walking seeing someone in front of you two.

You froze fearing that it was the Quinn “hey Kuzy!” It was. Your body tensed as you physically cringed feeling Andrei leave your side to embrace his old teammates.

Quinn smirked as he saw your awkward effort to hide yourself. He knew it was you from the UMich cap you wore and how you hadn’t changed your hair since you saw him “Y/n?” He furrowed his eyebrows turning his attention to you.

Andrei was left confused “you never told me you knew him.” He pointed out as his eyes followed Quinn’s “not everyone from college needs to be spoken about.” You pointed out causing the American to place his hand on his chest.

The captain was quick to act offended “did our time on the team mean nothing to you for two years?” He did little to hide his smirk as your cheeks turned red “well then why don’t you join us for lunch?” Andrei looked to his watch to see that it was getting to time for lunch.

In that moment you swore you wanted to kill both boys “give you two time to catch up too.” He added as he remained oblivious to the death stare that you sent Quinn, wishing that daggers hit the boy.

Lunch felt painful as you were reminded of all of the reasons why you disliked Quinn so much “I need to go to the bathroom.” Andrei announced and you were close to following him as you didn’t want to be left alone with the Hughes boy.

You grew tired after biting your tongue so hard that it drew blood “I’ll be back soon.” The Russian laughed as he furrowed his eyebrows, he squeezed your shoulder before he left.

Quinn let his eyes watch his old teammates until he was out of his view “so how long have you two been sleeping together?” Quinn interlaced his fingers as he watched you sip at your drink.

A cough left your lips “that’s none of your business!” You gasped acting the same way your mom would if she had to hear about your sex life “c’mon he can’t be that disappointing that you now aren’t willing to share.” It reminded you of the time that he walked in a girls night that involved his girlfriend.

You girls had been talking about your worst experiences with guys and of course you had the worst luck as Quinn got to walk in and hear the entire story about the football players that couldn’t even get you to reach your high. The boy constantly reminded you of it up until he left.

It made you scoff “not surprising to see that not all of us grew up after college.” You snapped squeezing your straw between your fingers “thought someone would have fucked you into being not this uptight but here we are.” He matched your tone as he mirrored your glare.

As you saw Andrei come back into your sights all you could do was deliver a quick kick to Quinn’s shin “ahh!” He winced reached down to massage his leg as he sent you a glare “you two good?” Poor Andrei still remained oblivious to what had gone on.

For the first time that day you didn’t need to force a smile onto your lips as you nodded “so great.” You let your foot run up Quinn leg as a reminder of what you could do the other “perfect.” Quinn gritted the words out still making sure to glare at you along the way.

Hours had passed as the night air was cold over Vancouver when you stared out of your hotel window struggling to avoid the image of Quinn. It brought up all of those memories of the arguments you two had and how he knew exactly how to get under your skin in ways that made you squirm. It clogged your mind to the point where you told Andrei that you were sick.

The white lie came from the fact that you couldn’t let yourself drop to your knees for a guy when someone else was on your mind.

You were confused as you heard the sound of music echo in your ears “hi pretty girl.” His words were soft in your ears “hi-Quinn?” You pulled your attention to him as your eyes went wide.

He cupped your cheeks as he dropped his head to kiss your lips “fucking hell.” He mumbled running his fingers down your body as you were in your lacy slip that you had slept in.

His hands pushed you back onto your bed “just want to make you feel good.” The hockey player explained as he helped you spread your legs “mhm Quinn.” You moaned feeling him kiss at your thighs.

Like a cold shower in the winter, your alarm practically hit you as your torso shot out of bed. You ripped the sheets off of you as your eyes went wide “fuck!” You groaned realizing that you had just had a dream about Quinn “Y/n are you okay?” Andrei’s voice came from your door as he knocked.

You were quick to panic as you hit snooze on your alarm and ran to the door “hey.” You made the effort to hide yourself behind your door “just thought I would let you know that you’re gonna be late for breakfast.” Andrei explained as he held out a togo cup of coffee.

The gesture made you smile “thanks Drei.” You tipped the coffee as a thank you “I should get dressed then.” It quickly became apparent that you needed to get a move on after sleeping through your alarm.

He watched you shut your door before he had the chance to utter another word “someone is acting weird.” Andrei mumbled to himself as he walked back to the team.

It seemed like al of your attention was crowded by the Hughes boy as you even struggled to do your job. Constantly avoiding parts of the Rogers Arena that you were concerned about seeing him in. But that only got you so far as the time came for you to finally sit by the bench.

Quinn’s eyes were already on you as you sat down “hi.” He mouthed with a smirk as he watched you freeze. Elias watched his line of sight following it you. The Swede laughed as he knocked Quinn off of his feet leaving the blonde to send you a wink.

The game had been chaotic but the Canucks barely edged the Flames, with the captain scoring the OT winning goal. Fans cheered as the stadium roared leaving the Fames players heartbroken. You sent Andrei a frown as he walked over to you post game.

You were stood in the locker area “I am sorry.” You apologized as he hugged you letting his head fall onto your shoulder “I didn’t think it would hurt so much to lose to them.” He felt stupid letting the confession leave his lips.

But even still you wanted to comfort him “you played really well though.” You confessed pressing a kiss to his temple as your fingers ran through his hair. A cough came from behind you both causing you to drop his arms.

Quinn stood there as he scratched the back of his neck “I wanted to say bye before you left.” He explained locking his eyes with yours “I am gonna leave you two to it.” Andrei nodded leaving you alone with Quinn once more.

The boy towered over you as he watched you cringe stood there in silence “you are looking really good.” He confessed with a soft smile “what is it that you are playing at?” You snapped as you clenched your fists.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched your little outburst “Jesus I was just trying to be nice!” He groaned pulling you into a corner hall as he didn’t want everyone to have to hear it go down.

Your hands tugged at your hair as you were visibly agitated feeling like if you were a cartoon you’d have smoke oozing from your ears “why?” You scoffed as you pushed your lips into a fine line “you’ve been nothing but insufferable the entire time I knew you.’ Your finger pushed into his chest as you cocked your head.

Those words made him roll his eyes “you know, Kuzy is gonna wake up one day and see that you’re just as much of a pain in my ass, as you are everyone else’s.” The dig was sharp as venom rolled off of his tongue “fuck you Hughes.” You spat as you pushed past him leaving the boy alone to process what had happened.

You were still somehow so angry as you got back to the hotel. Silently fearing that there was no real cure to help you calm down “he’s such a fucking ass.” You grumbled as you shook your head, even as your feet brought you to Andrei’s door.

Before you knew what you were doing you knocked at dark wood “hey?” Andrei smiled answering the door in nothing more than his grey sweatpants “I need to ask you for a favour.” You began causing him to nod as he motioned to you to come in.

Your palms were sweaty as you looked for apartment 227. The crumpled napkin was in your hands with his address scribbled out on it after Andrei thought you were in a rush. You might as well have been on your seventh cup of coffee as nerves ran through your body.

Practically bouncing off of the walls as you found his door. You stopped to take a breath as you brought your hand up to knock at the door.

But instead you were beat to it as the door whipped open leaving you faced with his bare chest “Jesus what is it with you men and opening your doors shirtless?” You groaned as you sent him a loom of disgust “I’m sorry?” Quinn didn’t know what else to say as he grabbed his hoodie from the rack next to his door.

You shook your head seeing him stare you down as he pulled the hood off of his head “now can tell me why you are at my door?” The hockey player trailed off reminding you why you were there “you are such an asshole!” You scoffed pushing into the apartment.

It was an open planned space that screamed decorated by a man in his twenties “I think you’ve told me that more than once before.” Quinn pointed out as he crossed his arms letting the door shut behind him.

His comment only irritated you more “you just make me so angry.” You squeezed your hands together trying to remain calm “but somehow I can’t get you out of my mind.” You rambled on only stopping when he laughed.

Your head snapped to stare him down “never would have thought you would have a crush on me.” Quinn smirked as he ran his fingers through his hair as you scoffed “always knew you had a soft spot f’me.” The boy walked over to you.

He watched your face scrunch in disgust “i knew that this was a mistake.” You sighed going to leave him alone for the second time that night.

But Quinn had other ideas as he wrapped his hand around your wrist just as you walked past him “god you are insufferable.” Quinn rolled his eyes pulling you closer to him. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he cupped your cheek.

His lips were rough against yours making you take a second before you responded. Bringing your hands to his waist “fuck.” He muttered acknowledging the taste of your cherry lipgloss as it made him go lightheaded.

If someone didn’t know any better they would say that you two had done this before as your hands moved in unison like clockwork “jump.” Quinn didn’t want to let your lips leave his for long as you listened feeling his hands cup your ass.

Helping you lift your legs up as you interlocked your ankles behind him wrapping your hands around his neck before you let your teeth sink down at his lower lip. It made him hiss out in that fine line between pain and pleasure.

You didn’t know when you two started walking but before you knew it you in a room as you heard the door creak shortly before your back hit a mattress. Quinn looked at the sight of you lying there in all of your flames gear. He took the moment to take you in before he smiled settling himself on the edge of his bed in his knees “I think it is sweet you went through all of this trouble to get my attention.” He mumbled pissing you off once more as you went to chew him out but instead he placed his finger on your lips.

Your eyes pushed into a glare “I can still leave y’know?” You knew you weren’t in any positions to be making demands but somehow that didn’t stop you from mouthing off.

A dry laugh fell from his lips “then what was the whole point of coming all this way?” He clicked his tongue practically hanging the bait in front of you “because I think you came so that someone could properly fuck you.” The boy added making you gulp.

The new found silence showed him that he was on the right track as you nodded “now you do not know how excited I am to get you out of this.” He mum urged the words to himself with some level of distaste as he locked eyes with the Flames emblem that was printed onto your leggings.

As his fingers hooked into the waistband of them he couldn’t help but plot all of the possible ways he could burn them “then hurry up.” You whined taking him by surprise as you reminded him that you wanted this just as much as he truly did “since you asked so nicely.” Quinn teased helping you kick your shoes off before he pulled your leggings off as well.

The sight of your lacey white panties was going to be imprinted in his mind forever “fucking hell Rocky.” He gave you the nickname in your freshman year after you punched him.

It was something he fully knew he deserved at the time which is why he was able to find the humor in your ability to give him a black eye “you been thinking about me a lot or something?” The comment originally came off as a tease but as he watched the colour drain from your face he realised that he was actually right.

This time a laugh in actual amusement left his lips “so what am I doing during this?” Quinn enquired as he let his hands massage soft circles into the inner parts of your thighs “you were.” You trailed off struggling to find the words to tell him.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth trying to stop himself from smiling “c’mon pretty girl I know you can get your words out f’me.” The boy began wanting to hurry you along as he felt his cock throb in his pants “if I’m gonna be left in the fucking quiet I will leave you here.” Quinn warned letting his hands softly hit your thigh.

Your eyes went wide considering that his threat was serious “I don’t know because it was a dream that I fucking woke up from!” You yelled watching him freeze causing embarrassment to run through your veins.

Your back lifted from his mattress as you went to apologise “look Quinn maybe-” you weren’t given the chance to say much more as his lips caught yours again.

Sucking the air from your lips as he let his hand claw at the fabric of your polo keeping you close to him “that’s fucking hot that you been dreaming about me.” He couldn’t hide how this made his ego float “what did you want me to do?” He asked licking his lips as he let his hand drop to your panties.

His fingers grazed over your clothed clit “fuck Quinn.” You let out a grunt as your thighs squirmed “say the words and I’ll do it.” He nodded not ready to take no as an answer.

You swallowed hard at the sensations “use your tongue.” You confessed making him smirk “lay back down then.” His voice was soft as you listened lying flat on your back.

Quinn hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties pulling them down the length of your legs “fuck you’re soaked.” He mewled at the sight of your glistening cunt “please.” You cried out finally making the boy nod as he gave you what you wanted.

His lips pecked at the insides of your thighs making sure that he divided his attention between both parts equally “you smell so sweet.” The boy confessed letting his face settle millimetres from your core.

He saw how your eyes studied his, watching him place a kiss on her clit “so responsive too.” A smirk formed on his lips when latched his lips around the sensitive bud.

You pushed your chest into the air as your back arched “fucking hell.” You whined bringing your hand to his hair as you tugged at his brown locks.

It acted like encouragement for him as he wrapped his arms around your thighs keeping you close to him as you tried to grind your cunt against his face. Quinn dropped his tongue to your core letting his tongue lay flat as he thrusted it into you.

The feeling made you squirm as you clenched around him when his nose grazed your clit “god you’re good at this.” You moaned lifting your legs to rest your heels on his shoulder blades “who would have thought all I would need to do was fuck you to get you to behave.” Quinn was amused as his words sent shivers through your body.

If you weren’t in this sensual state, you would have snapped at him “don’t stop.” You begged feeling his tongue lap at you like a starved man. He watched your free hand run up your shirt letting your bra go free.

He grinded his hips against the duvet beneath him swearing that he was going to ruin his sheets before he even got a chance to fuck you “Quinn.” Your voice sounded like honey as your face scrunched up in pleasure “you wanna cum pretty girl?” His question made you whimper as his thumb grazed over your clit in these tight circular motions.

The room grew hot as your lips remained screwed shut “need you to tell me-” the Hughes boy couldn’t get his threat out before you cut him off “please let me cum all over your tongue.” You begged making him nod as he let his mouth replace his fingers where it only then took him a few minor thrusts of his tongue to have you chanting his name out in pleasure.

Your legs shook as you struggled to keep them open trying not to crush the captains head as he continued to lap at your release sending you into a state of mind fog. Your body began to tense again and that was when you found the strength to pull Quinn off of you “you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned kissing you again as if he hadn’t seen his lover in years.

The taste of your release was salty on his tongue and it made you moan as it mixed with your spit “off.” He mumbled tugging at your shirt.

You pulled away as you shook your head “‘s not fair you’re still fully clothed.” You complained making him smirk “if you wanted to see me again all you had to do was ask.” Within seconds his hoodie was off and was added to the pile of clothing that by the foot of his bed.

See his bare chest again filled you with this soft sense of confidence. So as you took a deep breath watching him begin to undo his pants you finally pulled your polo off of your body, leaving you in nothing but your white bra “if I knew you had a body like this under your clothes I would have been nicer.” Quinn let the words slip from his lips.

It made you scoff as you sent him a glare “doesn’t mean you would have been able to fuck me.” You snapped trying your best to let your eyes not drop to the bulge in his boxers.

A laugh roared from his lips “there’s the brat I knew you still had in ya.” It took him little strength to pull you to your feet “so now I’m gonna fuck you like a slut.” His hand pinched at your jaw making you whimper in response.

His eyes scanned yours to see if you were scared but instead all he saw was lust “but that’s probably what you wanted.” Quinn chirped making you softly nod “well sluts get fucked against the wall.” He motioned to where his wall mirror was making you unclip your bra before you walked to it.

You watched in the reflection how he stared back at you taking in the sight of how your naked body looked, from your perky breasts to your lower lip that you chewed at in anticipation. Quinn was calculated as he kicked his boxers off “condom?” He asked as he was prepared to grab one from his drawer.

Your head shook “on the pill.” You explained making him wonder just how many times that you let Andrei fuck you raw.

But for how the captain let his thoughts fall to the back of his mind when he saw you spread your legs “look at you so desperate for a good fuck.” Quinn smirked as he taunted you “even after you already came.” His words barely reached a whisper.

His hand gripped at his aching cock as he slotted between your legs. Dragging the head of his cock over your slit as he began to tease your cunt. His precum spread over your clit bringing a moan from your lips as your hands lay flat against the wall.

The boy watched you in awe “such a good girl getting ready f’me.” He cooed brushing your hair to the side “fuck your cunt is heaven.” Quinn let out a grunt as he thrusted his cock into your core as his hips lay flat against yours.

His lips nipped at your neck as he settled into his position “please move.” You begged clenching around his cock “and you’re gonna leave a mark!” You complained making him glare at you.

He scoffed bringing his hand to slap at your ass “you think I fucking give a shit?” Quinn laughed as his hips snapped into yours as he began to fuck you at a pace that was painful “answer me you slut!” He spat making you wince.

Your head dropped as your breasts bounced with each thrust of his cock “n-no.” You shook your head feeling tears form in your eyes “then I’m gonna use you how I want okay.” His words weren’t even in the form of a question as he let his hands punch at your hips.

The sound of skin slapping against each other was ringing in your ears “sorry.” Your words were soft as he nipped at your skin “wanna say that a little louder f’me?” Quinn teased seeing your legs begin to shake.

He made sure to keep you upright before you fell “if you aren’t gonna be a brat then I need you to answer me.” His hand gripped at your hair tugging your head upright “I’m sorry!” You moaned feeling your head rest against his shoulder.

It made him smirk as felt you clench around his cock “f’what?” He asked bringing his hand over to your clit letting his fingers rub at your sensitive nub “for being a brat.” You sputtered out the words making him internally cheer for you finally listening to him.

He watched your eyes flutter “just a brat?” He taunted making you squirm “and a slut f’you.” You added letting the tears stream down your face as you felt yourself growing closer to your orgasm.

Quinn let his chin rest on your shoulder “be a good girl for me and watch my dick fuck your pussy.” You nodded at his order watching how your cunt swallowed his cock with each thrust before he would pull away letting the cream of your first orgasm look like a ring around his cock “I’m gonna-” your eyes began to roll back into your sockets.

It made him nod as your cunt clenched around him “think you need to beg for this one.” His voice was soft in your ear as he sucked at your lobe.

The feeling of his cock inside of you as it throbbed made you desperate “wanna make a mess on your cock so bad!” You begged trying to use your hands to keep you up “go make a mess pretty girl.” With that your head rested on his shoulder as your cunt clamped around his cock.

Chants of his name spewed from your lips helping to push him over the edge “milk my cock doll.” Quinn cooed softly shuddering at how your cunt sucked him dry “there we go.” His voice was soft as he let his limp cock slide out of you “holy fuck.” You gasped turning around to kiss him “you’re so gorgeous.” Quinn mumbled as he let his thumbs graze over your nipples.

The room was hot as his hands were all over you like he was scared he’d lose you if he let you go. You pushed him back to the bed letting him sit on the mattress “is my little slut still not satisfied?” Quinn smirked running his hand over your stomach “still not full of my cum?” He added making you whimper as you went to cover your face.

He stopped you as he clicked his tongue “all you gotta do is ask me nicely.” The captain brought his hands to your cheeks pulling your face up to stare at his “make me cum again Quinny?” You begged as he pecked at your lips.

It was softer as he spun you two around laying you down on the bed “I get to see you this time doll.” His words were innocent as he pumped his cock a few times to get you hard all over again “you’re such a pretty girl.” His body hovered over yours as his chain rested on your chin.

This time it was easier for him to thrust into her as their releases acted like the perfect lube for you both “still just as perfect.” He laughed feeling your legs wrap around him “you are such a gorgeous girl.” Quinn mumbled as he kissed you.

The two of you practically moulded into each other “mhm Quinn.” You moaned feeling his pelvis against your clit “like the sound of my name on your tongue.” The Hughes boy smiled as your hands went to claw at his back.

He couldn’t help but notice the little Daisy necklace you had resting on your collarbone and it made him wonder just how many times must Kuzy have seen it before when you were under him “did he fuck you like this?” Quinn let the question come out with little thought before his eyes went wide.

Your silence made him scoff “so he fucks you better than me?” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head “just when I thought you were done being a brat.” Quinn spat as he picked up his pace again.

Cries echoed from your lips “you fuck me better!” You announced making him smirk “couldn’t hear ya princess.” He did it to tease you expecting some kind of push back from you.

But instead you just glared “could get off alone.” You grumbled making him stop his cock was half way inside of you as he stared down at you “you really think you could made yourself feel better than I do?” Quinn let his hand wrap around your throat.

You brought your hand up to wrap around his as you softly nodded “so you aren’t a cumslut feeling me in here.” His free hand pressed against your stomach as he could feel his cock hit your g-spot with each thrust “s-so full.” You whimpered feeling your breasts bounce with each creek of his bed.

The boy let his mouth drop to your breasts “fuck Quinn!” You kicked your legs as you felt your head go light with the new amount of pleasure you felt.

It had you whimpering as he divided his attention as well as he thought he could with his fingers rolling the nipple into a peak “not such a mouthy girl anymore now are ya?” His words were barely audible as he didn’t lift his lips from your nipple.

You cried as you shook your head “please let me cum.” You pleaded feeling your eyes begin to flutter “open your mouth f’me.” He pulled his attention away from your nipples as he looked at you.

Your mouth was centimetres away from his as you followed his instructions letting your tongue roll out of your mouth “now keep it like this until I cum okay?” He asked letting his saliva push out of his mouth in this line of spit only breaking once it landed on your tongue.

He watched your lips shut as smirked “you’re such a pretty fucking girl.” Quinn confessed letting your one leg go over his shoulder so that he could fuck you an entirely different angle “you keep clenching like that and I’m gonna cum.” He warned making you nod.

His fingers around your throat made you drive your hips towards his “I’m gonna cum.” You announced kissing his lips as your legs shook from his sides “let the floor know how good I make you feel.” He placed a closed mouth kiss to your lips as you finally watched your face scrunch up.

Your mouth fell open “don’t stop fucking me Quinn!” You begged feeling your body writhe against him. He watched pleasure wash over you as you came.

Quinn was close to you as he fucked you through your orgasm “there we go.” He gritted out coating your cunt for the second time of the night with his release “holy fuck.” The boy looked down to see that your release had soaked his bed.

You looked down to see what he was talking about “I’m so fucking sorry.” You went to apologise but he shook his head “that’s was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He confessed with a smile.

He watched your redden cheeks calm down “did you know you could do that?” The boy asked as you sat up to look at him “n-no.” You shook your head pushing your hair out of your face.

Quinn watched you stare down at where your mess was “hey.” He frowned hooking his fingers under your jaw “why don’t we get you into the bath?” Quinn’s offer was innocent and even as you knew you needed to go back to the hotel, you couldn’t say no.

And that’s how you landed up with your hair in a bun sat in his bath. Ellen had left bath salts and bubbles under his sink and that’s how you landed up smelling like roses “you okay?” Quinn asked watching you stare at him.

You smiled as you held your hand over the bubbles “come in here.” You mumbled motioning to him to join.

He got off of the edge of the tub going to sit across from you “want you here.” You explained pointing behind you “can’t say no when you look at me like that.” Quinn sighed as he motioned to you to shift over.

The water sloshed around your body as you leaned forward “you feeling better?” He cocked his head as he wrapped his hands around your waist.

His lips kissed at your shoulder feeling the softness of your skin against his lips “so much better.” You nodded laying your head on his shoulder “wait Quinny.” You spoke up as you looked up at him.

You were quick to decide that it was easier to turn around to look at him “I don’t think you’re a total pain in the ass.” You confessed making him smile “I don’t think you are one either.” This was the first time you two had a normal conversation where you guys were making actual grounds worth of progress.

Quinn didn’t want to ruin the moment but he dropped his head to kiss your lips. You straddled him in response as you melted into the kiss. Your hips grinded against his making his cock grow hard all over again “you happy to see me or?” You teased smiling as your forehead rested against his.

The boy shook his head “I’m sorry, we don’t have to.” He watched as your hand dropped below the water “I want to.” You confessed with a smile.

Your hand gripped at his cock pumping it a few times “you like that don’t ya?” You teased letting your grin remain evident “you fucking tease me and I’ll make sure you never squirt again.” Quinn warned showing you that he was being serious.

A giggle left your lips as you sunk down on his cock “never the fun one are ya?” You settled into a slow rhythm letting your hips brush against his “you and I know that I am plenty fun.” Quinn rolled eyes as he used his energy to pick you up and push you to the other side of the bath letting water slosh around you both.

So maybe things were always going to be a competitions between you two. But one thing that you both knew for sure was that nights in Vancouver or Calgary weren’t going to be spent in hotel rooms. They would be spent in each others arms desperate to not let this dream end.

#quinn hughes smut #quinn Hughes imagines #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x reader #nhl smut #nhl imagines #nhl oneshots #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey oneshots #amber writes fics

566 notes · View notes

jackhues · 2 years ago

Text

mango dragon refresher - quinn hughes

notes: this is part of @wyattjohnston's summer exchange fic, and written for the lovely @lam-ila! i'm horrible at writing angst with happy ending, but i felt inspired to write something like this for quinn!! i really hope you like it <33

warnings: accidents, injuries, angst with happy ending, kinda hurt/comfort

gif not mine!

in hindsight, driving with a broken tail light wasn’t the smartest decision you’ve made.

your mother had taught you years ago that everything you learn when it comes to driving was meant to be applied whenever you were behind the wheel, for the rest of your life. and for years, you’d taken her words to heart, never once stepping out of line.

but you were hungry, and out of milk, and you’d already taken the cereal out into your bowl, and quinn had taken the working car to practice.

you didn’t think it was going to be a big deal, especially since the grocery store was less than five minutes away. besides, you saw people driving with things worse than broken tail lights all the time. how bad could it be?

convincing yourself it was no big deal, you got in your car and headed off to the store. you’d made it there fine, not even a scratch. but on your way back, the car in front of you slammed on their brakes suddenly. you’d stopped as well, just in time to avoid ramming into the rear bumper.

but with your tail light broken, the car behind you had nearly no warning as he drove into you. you felt it all happen in two times speed: your head hitting the steering, hard, as cars around you honked their horns and manoeuvred away from the crash.

i guess this is why they say mother always knows best, you thought drowsily, the world going dark around you.

quinn was feeding his teammates pucks when the assistant coach, nolan, called him over.

he’d been in a serious conversation with one of the trainers for a few minutes, before he motioned for quinn to come over.

“ooh, hughesy’s in trouble,” some of the guys snickered, messing with him.

quinn rolled his eyes as he held back a laugh, nodding at nolan and the trainer. the trainer nodded back, before rushing away quickly.

quinn didn’t think much of it — the trainers always had lots of work to do.

“what’s going on?” he asked.

nolan motioned over his shoulder, “let’s go talk about it, c’mon.”

now quinn began to worry, almost as if he really was in trouble. during the short walk to his office, a hundred different thoughts flew around quinn’s brain — yet, not one of them explained why he might be in trouble.

i’m a full-grown adult, quinn thought to himself. how the hell am i going to be in trouble? what would i even be in trouble for?

as nolan motioned for him to take a seat, quinn’s thoughts took another direction. he thought of bo horvat, and how he’d been given some terrible news in the very same way.

“wait, am i getting traded?” he asked suddenly.

nolan’s eyes widened, “no, no. we’re not trading you, that’s not why you’re here.”

“then why am i here?” quinn asked. “is there — is it something bad? did i mess up?”

nolan looked resigned, as if the last thing he wanted to do was sit here and tell quinn… whatever it was he wanted to say. but he took a deep breath and forced it out.

“it’s y/n,” he said finally. “your fiancée. she’s been involved in a car accident and has been admitted to the hospital.”

the world seemed to stop for quinn.

y/n, in a car accident.

he didn’t believe it. you were the safest driver he ever met, there was no way you could be involved in a — the broken tail light, he realized suddenly.

for some reason, you must’ve taken the car and went out to do something, either forgetting about or dismissing the broken tail light.

quinn internally began to curse himself.

he should’ve woken up half an hour earlier and carpooled with elias when his teammate had asked. that way there’d have been a working car at home, and you wouldn’t have been in the hospital.

“quinn?” nolan asked hesitantly, snapping him out of his spiral. “are you okay?”

“where — which hospital is she in?” he got up. “i want to go see her, i’m leaving to go see her.”

nolan stopped him by placing a hand on his arm, “i’ll drive you. you’re in no state to be operating a vehicle. go get changed, and we’ll head out to see her.”

quinn wanted to argue, to tell him to take him right now, but he saw the determined look in nolan’s eyes. quinn knew him long enough to know there would be no arguing with him.

he rushed off to the locker room, changing in record time, before meeting nolan in his car.

“let’s go,” nolan said, driving quinn.

the car ride was tense, with quinn stuck between wanting to ask nolan more information, and at the same time not wanting to know anything and just hope for the best.

his brain compromised by thinking of the worst scenarios imaginable.

“breathe,” nolan said as they arrived at a red light. “she’s gonna be fine, you just need to calm down.”

quinn took a deep breath, resisting the urge to snap at nolan. you wouldn’t want him to get mad at someone who’s only trying to help.

nolan took a right, arriving at the hospital entrance.

“head on up,” nolan told him. “i’ll park and come.”

quinn didn’t need to be told twice, as he bolted out of the car and towards one of the receptionists.

“my fiancée,” he rushed out. “she was — she was just brought in here because of a car accident. y/n, y/n y/ln.”

“one second,” the receptionist said, searching through her files. “you’re her emergency contact. quinn hughes, correct?”

“that’s me,” he nodded.

the receptionist nodded, “she’s in the emergency room, currently being operated on. she needs stitches, and is being checked for a dislocated shoulder.”

quinn’s heart felt like it would stop in his chest.

“where — where is she?” he stuttered.

the receptionist gave him a look of sympathy, pointing him towards the direction of the room. quinn ran down the halls, coming to a halt outside the room.

on the other side of those doors, you were in pain. you might’ve been under anaesthesia, but after everything, quinn didn’t want to think of you being in pain.

doctors, nurses, patients, and even visitors walked around him. for once, no one was asking for an autograph — only giving him looks of sympathy.

“mango dragon fruit refresher for quinn!” the staff called out.

quinn walked numbly to the counter, taking the drink, before heading upstairs. in his other hand, he held his own coffee — which is pretty much what he’d been living off for the past day.

there were three or four mango dragon refreshers in your room, melted or in the trash. quinn bought one for you each time he went to get his coffee, just in case you were waiting for him.

the accident itself was quite bad, to the point where the doctors were saying it was lucky that you didn’t sustain any long-term injuries.

from what quinn had been told, you were suffering from a minor concussion, needed six stitches across your forehead, needed twelve stitches on your hand, and had dislocated your left shoulder.

the stitches would come out eventually, and the concussion would be fine within a few weeks. but your shoulder would need to remain in a sling for three to four weeks, and you’d be needing physiotherapy afterwards.

quinn was just waiting for you to wake up.

you’d been out for over twenty-four hours, quinn not leaving your side except to get your drinks. nolan had brought him some food, which was in a bag in the corner of your room. he just wasn’t hungry.

quinn entered your room silently, mango dragon refresher in hand as he tried not to disturb you.

“is that for me?” your voice caused him to startle.

quinn turned towards you, seeing you awake and sitting up in the hospital bed. words failed him as he stared at you, trying to force something — anything coherent — out of his mouth.

“you — you’re — are you—”

“hi,” you gave him a tired smile, patting at your bedside.

quinn was there immediately.

“you’re awake,” he whispered, hesitantly reaching out for you.

“and you look like you haven’t slept in days,” you responded, taking his hand in yours. you leaned into his touch, savouring the feeling of him next to you. “are you sure you’re okay?”

quinn stared at you, shaking his head to himself in disbelief. “you’re the one in the hospital bed, and you’re asking if i’m okay? i should be asking you that!”

“i’m fine,” you answered. “a little battered, but i’m alright. you on the other hand, you look like you’ve been through hell.”

quinn rolled his eyes, but it was true. he felt like it too. sitting by your side, all night, not knowing when you were going to wake up — it drove him crazy.

“i’m just glad you’re okay,” quinn choked up, pressing a kiss to your intertwined hands.

he’d spent the last day thinking of the worst possibilities, torturing himself. seeing you here, smiling and happy, it made him realize that he couldn’t lose you.

you smiled, leaning forward to place your forehead against his.

“me too,” you whispered.

740 notes · View notes

ohmyeyesmyeyes · 2 years ago

Text

slowly but surely

quinn hughes x f!reader; platonic!petey x f!reader

warnings: smuttish towards the end/suggestive themes; alcohol and drunkenness; swearing; cheating and toxic exes; reader is a chef and has tattoos; the ending might be a bit dodgy

word count: 17k

this gif got me smiling like an absolute fool

You’d only been standing outside in the mild Summer air for a few minutes, mind seemingly intent on conjuring up arguments as to why you should and shouldn’t give in and book a taxi back home, when the door to the hotel swivelled around. You could recognise it because the brush tickles the floor and makes a distinct swooshing sound – you knew no one had walked in because you’d been the only one on the pavement on that stretch of tarmac, so the only other option was that someone had left the party.

It was getting dark, the sunlight slowly crawling back over the tops of buildings, enveloping the entire city in a deep blue haze. The warm lights from the lobby didn’t do much to aid your vision through the blacked out glass when you turned around – out of habit more than anything.

Your bag for the night was hanging from your fingers, a black sparkly thing you’d taken from your mum’s wardrobe when you were seventeen, that she’d never had the heart to ask for it back, and you were dressed formally, in an astonishing scarlett dress. Obviously, you hadn’t exactly thought you’d be at the wedding reception for too long (strangers kept luring you into conversation), so you’d neglected to bring an extra layer. That reminder only seemed to strike gold when your skin erupted in goosebumps – coincidentally at the same time you’d made eye contact with the person that had just left the building.

Where you’d been previously unbothered about your current state of dress and appearance, you suddenly felt the material of the dress against your skin, and where the straps touched your shoulders; where the skirt caressed the backs of your knees. The way your hair was blowing gently in the breeze, and the inevitability of some of your makeup not being as perfect as it was when you first arrived.

“Hey.”

He spun around upon hearing your voice, and the crease between his brows seemed to disappear along with the tension in his shoulders. He was carrying a navy blazer in the crook of his elbow as he slowly made his way over to where you were standing, your phone now switched off as you carefully watched as the corner of his mouth twitched up into a shy smile of greeting.

The top buttons of his shirt had been popped open all night, and although neither of you had had the chance to talk to each other, you noticed that more than just two buttons were now undone.

“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop just a few feet in front of you, one hand comfortably resting in his pocket, “are you okay?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in concern despite the soft look that still decorated the lines in his face.

You could tell he was referring to the way you’d almost whimsically decided to pick up your things and leave the party without even so much as saying anything to anybody. He’d been keeping an eye on you all night, and you him – though you couldn’t really understand why; it seemed to just be a comfort thing considering the fact that he was the only person in the crowd of blurred faces that you knew.

Even saying you knew Quinn would be a bit of an exaggeration. He was a friend of a mutual friend, and you’d barely had a real conversation with him that extended past what sweet treats he’d like to eat from Petey’s cupboards.

You swallowed, something heavy and not unpleasant settling in your chest as you forced a smile for him, “I’m good. I just couldn’t really stomach being there for much longer, but I’m fine.”

You flashed an unconvincing smile, uncomfortably adjusting your stance. Quinn seemed to get the hint, because he nodded. An awkward silence descended between you both – one that seemed to make you even more aware of the fact that you’d both spent time in each other’s presence before today, yet seemed completely incapable of making conversation.

Since you partially knew a bit about Quinn, you had an idea that he wasn’t exactly the type of person to kickstart a conversation, despite being the one to initiate it and seek you out in the first place, so you crossed your arms, and the action seemed to drag Quinn’s attention away from the neon signs of the restaurants down the block. There was a faint hum of music coming from somewhere, and you registered the faint longing in his eyes as he dragged his attention away from the delicious aroma that you now found yourselves ensnared in.

“Are you hungry?” You asked, focused on the tone of your voice so as to not seem like you were accusing him of losing interest in you, but also one that hopefully mimicked the desperation for food that you were also feeling.

The plan had been to go home and put a frozen pizza in the oven, but that had been kicked to the curb when you were joined by Quinn, who also seemed to have found himself in a similar predicament.

His mouth quirked up for a brief moment, something shining in his eyes as he nodded, “I’m starving.”

You pressed your lips together to suppress the smile that was attempting to claw its way onto your face, and instead turned your head to the side, eyeing the tempting restaurants and enticing wafts of a mixture of different cuisines.

Italian…Mexican…Thai. Somehow you could smell them all, and it was the way your stomach seemed to ache that inspired you to gain the courage to turn back to his awaiting response.

“Me too,” you started, inhaling through your nose, “would you want to maybe get something to eat?”

You didn’t know why, but in that very moment, your brain had decided that then was a brilliant time to fear rejection from such a trivial question.

You knew what his answer was going to be, and yet somehow you feared an impossible sting at the mere idea of Quinn turning your offer down.

“I’d like that.” He replied, arching an eyebrow as he turned back to the restaurant lined block, “Do you have a preference for where, or…?”

He left the question unfinished, and tilted his head in your direction as you swivelled on your heels in the direction of crowded pavements and the inevitable sound of friendly laughter.

“No, you?”

Quinn shook his head, and upon coming to the conclusion that neither of you would suggest a place for fear of the other declining, you took one last look at the restaurants.

You hesitated for a moment. You knew these streets, you’d lived here for the past four years and had even dined in some of the places Quinn was looking at right now, but due to your indecision (you chalked it down to hunger – any food would do), you knew of a place.

So you turned to Quinn, “Do you trust me?”

“That depends.” Was his immediate answer.

“On what?” You found yourself asking, curiosity getting the better of you for just a moment. You were intrigued in what his answer would be. If you were being honest, you hadn’t even expected him to say he didn’t not trust you – in certain circumstances – and the admission, though small, warmed you slightly.

For the first time ever, you felt you were getting somewhere with him.

“Well…” Quinn started, his brows knitting together as his mind raced, “I wouldn’t trust you if I left my open bag of M&Ms out on a table and left the room. I think you’d eat some.”

You couldn’t restrain your smile or the short, shocked burst of laughter that flew past your lips before you could catch it and reel it back in. You couldn’t help but blush slightly when he turned his attention from a spot behind you and broke into a smile when he caught you laughing.

It barely took a couple of seconds before you’d calmed yourself, though the grin on your face hadn’t dimmed one bit.

You knew Quinn had a sense of humour – you’d even seen it in his bickering with Petey, but it was somehow different when the teasing was directed at you. It was more amusing and slightly endearing.

You found yourself nodding, “That’s probably a smart idea, actually.” You agreed, voice soft, “But would you trust me if I told you I know a nice place to eat?”

He paused – momentarily – as if he was caught off guard by something, and then he nodded, “Absolutely.”

“Okay–”

“Sell it to me.” He interrupted you, and when you turned your attention back to him from the direction you intended on taking him, it seemed even he was shocked by the blurting of his words. His eyes were wide and his mouth was pressed shut, as though he was on the brink of fighting sudden laughter, or mortification. Judging from the way he seemed to part his mouth and narrow his eyes, he looked as if it was the latter – and as though he wanted to take what he’d just blurted out back, but you were intent on keeping him out of his shell.

You cleared your throat, and he stopped his movements.

“Do I have a time limit?”

He chewed the inside of his lip, “Ten seconds.”

You raised your brows, feeling a surge of competitiveness and adrenaline enter your system. You had limited experience in selling things to people, but you knew the key was a unique selling point – an angle.

It didn’t take long to settle on one, and you knew if you chose this specific angle, Quinn would probably be even less inclined to trust you than he was before, but you were willing to risk it.

“Tell me when.”

There was a moment’s silence as he held you in anticipation, and you found your mind wandering to how you’d managed to get from A (being invited to the wedding of your ex) to B (discussing dinner plans with Quinn Hughes – of all people). And how you’d both forgone the previous awkward aura and slipped into an easier flow of conversation that seemed to be filled with secretive smiles and blushes gratefully hidden by the coveted curtain of night. Granted, you couldn’t exactly say that you were both completely comfortable to be in each other’s presence; you’d never been alone with each other longer than the time it took Petey to have a piss – and that awareness hung above your heads like a dangling bone, but it didn’t feel like you had to try too hard or think too much about making small talk.

Christ.

“Go.”

Quinn made you nervous.

You took a deep breath, thoughts slightly scattered upon the realisation, but persevered, your angle stuck at the forefront of your brain.

You held out your hand, flicking up your fingers as you listed off several points, “A five minute walk, it’s always quiet, good quality food, a nice drinks menu, friendly staff,” you were nearly out of breath, “and there’s another shocker element but it’s gonna be a mystery because I’m not telling you—”

“And stop.”

You’d been making eye contact with him the entire time. You hadn’t realised how intensely you’d been looking at him – mostly out of concentration – until you realised that you’d been watching him silently count to ten because your eyes were already on his mouth when he stopped you.

He gave you no time to overthink your actions, “A mystery, huh?” He rocked back on his heels slightly, his shoe kicking the back of the opposite foot as his eyes skittered around you, intent on not looking you in the face.

You nodded, folding your arms across your chest as a chillier breeze whipped past you. Your bag clipped your arm, so you lowered the hand holding it, still ensuring you kept a grip on your other arm as your goosebumps seemed to intensify somehow.

“Do I get a clue?” This time his eyes trailed back to you, and you missed the way his gaze flickered to your arms and the way the arm holding his blazer twitched.

You tilted your head at him, quizzically, “What part of ‘mystery’ and ‘not telling you’ do you not understand, Hughes?”

He shrugged, “All of it. Please woman-splain it to me.”

You froze. Mind blank.

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but a small part of you couldn’t move from your spot, mind intent of playing the tone of his voice over and over in your head until you were dizzy. His voice sounded…You didn’t know how to describe it, but it sent shivers of a different kind down your spine and your mouth went dry.

You covered your tracks fairly well and pretty quickly despite the fact that your brain seemed to short-circuit for a second, because you rolled your eyes, trying not to smirk at his words.

“Or I could just show you?” You offered, beginning to take slow steps away from him, your hand pointing in the direction you knew the restaurant to be.

He followed your hand to where it pointed, then his gaze flicked back up to your hopeful face slowly – he seemed to trace you from your outstretched hand, all the way up your arm and to your face, and you felt ashamed at how much a single look was affecting you.

So you increased your pace and dropped your hand, spinning on your heel as you pretended to walk away without him. You took three steps before looking over your shoulder, seeing him still planted to the spot right where you left him.

Until he caught you looking at him, and a bashful smile seemed to overtake his lost expression as he realised that, no, you weren’t leaving him behind – you were just waiting for him to catch up to you. He took quite a few long strides and, to your surprise, managed to cover the distance between you both, until he was walking alongside you, the soft material of his shirt brushing against your arm.

It was only when he nudged your arm that you realised he was holding out his blazer to you, “You’ve got goosebumps and I’ve seen you shiver a couple of times…And I’d rather have you alive and breathing because I’m actually pretty excited about seeing this place.”

You swallowed, eyes zipping between the obviously expensive navy blazer in his grip to his face. For some reason you were hesitant to accept his offer.

Accepting the blazer felt like committing to something else.

“Oh, it’s okay, we’ve not got long before we get there–”

“Five minutes, fifty minutes – either way, it’d ease my mind if I knew you weren’t cold.”

You slowly nodded, not bothering to argue with him as you both stopped on the sidewalk and he helped you into his blazer, his hands gentle as you threaded your arms through the sleeves.

“Thanks.” You muttered, feeling slightly sheepish that you’d try to deny it in the first place. You could feel the remnants of his body heat in the fabric from where he’d hugged it close to his torso carrying it.

He must have been pretty warm if you were almost instantaneously cured of your chills.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He smiled sweetly.

You carried on walking, unable to even look in his direction as you tugged the blazer tighter around your body, desperate to maintain as much heat as possible. The temperature seemed to drop even further in the next couple of minutes, and you almost felt guilty at taking Quinn’s only source of protection against the night temperatures, but once you remembered the sincerity in his tone and the firm glimmer in his eyes, it seemed to vanish.

“So,” Quinn started, both his hands now in his pockets as he kept his focus on the pavement, “were you there for the bride or groom?”

You sighed, a sudden pit of nerves settling in your chest. There was a reason you’d left the wedding reception shortly after the speeches.

Even thinking about it now makes you feel nauseous.

��Groom.” You said, “What about you?”

Quinn winced, “I was a plus one for someone on the Bride’s side, so neither, really.”

“And were they okay with you leaving?” You breathed a laugh, feeling a stab of guilt for being partially responsible for Quinn running out after you.

Quinn bit the inside of his cheek, the gesture immediately accentuating his cheekbones further, “Honestly, I only agreed to go because of the open bar, and he only invited me to go with him because he’d name dropped, and I’d pledged myself on a path to self-improvement, and part of that commitment was getting out more…So, here I am, I guess. And to answer your question, no, he didn't mind. He’s been trying to pick up a bridesmaid all night so he wasn’t paying much attention to me anyway.”

You’d found yourself trying not to smile at his behaviour since he’d first approached you, and it seemed this was one of the times you were struck dumb with how surprising Quinn was at times. It had barely been fifteen minutes in his presence and he’d already subverted most of what you thought you knew about him. You couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of words.

“You’ve pledged yourself on a path to self-improvement?” You weren’t condescending in any way, more curious as to the specifics of his vow, but you couldn’t help the slight teasing tone that edged its way into your voice. “What does that involve?”

He twisted his torso mid-step so he was partially facing you when he answered, and the tell-tale slight pink flush to his cheeks gave it away that maybe he was being completely serious after all, “Oh, you know…Stuff like saying yes to more plans with my friends, putting myself out there. Nothing too major, but enough to rescue my hermit crab status in society.”

Adorable.

That was all that was running through your mind, and you didn’t have it in yourself to get rid of it.

He said everything with such sarcasm that it contradicted his real meanings that just ended up seeming unsure of everything he was talking about.

You found yourself thinking back to whenever you’d been in the same room at Petey’s or out with a group of friends, and it felt like you’d missed something, because how could he have been right under your nose and you didn't notice? It could be the haze of alcohol that meant he didn’t hold back as much, or maybe it was the fact that there were less people around and more room for him to express himself, but he seemed like a different person than the Quinn you’d got to know with your friends.

Two years. Two years you’d known Petey, and a year and a half you’d known Quinn, and only now were you having a real conversation.

You could almost feel Petey’s evil laughter in the back of your mind.

“You’re not a hermit crab, you’ve come out with us plenty of times before.” You argued.

“Tell that to my family,” Quinn shook his head, a melancholy smile now on his face, “they think that because I don’t take pictures of anything that I don’t go out.”

“So on this path to self-discovery, you didn’t think to just take more pictures instead of forcing yourself to go out?”

Quin stopped in the middle of the pavement, clenching his jaw as he swung his head in your direction, a sigh of exasperation passing his lips as you too stopped, blinking in confusion.

“If only I’d have thought of that sooner.” He was being sarcastic, the drawl in his voice giving so much away, and you rolled your eyes as he started back up again.

“Funny.” You muttered back, grabbing him by the arm as he continued walking down the street, unaware of the way you’d stopped on the sidewalk, prepared to cross.

He didn’t say anything or convey surprise at your actions, and almost immediately you retracted your touch, before looking both ways and crossing the road, him hot on your heels. The restaurant you’d picked was small; built on two floors, with the windows of the bottom floor half blocked by the sidewalk. There seemed to be fairy lights hung in strips behind the glass, with posters of some sort of print on the front.

There were steps right in the middle of the building, leading to a door bracketed in by two large windows on either side, also decorated with string lights of different colours: red, blue, green, yellow. Behind those, the silhouettes of sparkling cardboard stars could be made out, blocking the view inside the restaurant.

It was quaint, and in the light – you knew by experience – anyone would walk straight past such a charming little diamond, but at night when the city was shrouded in darkness, it was hard to miss it; the twinkling lights acted as blinking stars and it was charming to look at. Tacky, maybe, but charming nonetheless.

You both came to a stop, necks craning to look at the building. It was a sight you’d seen many times before, and one that you never found yourself growing bored of, but you couldn’t help sneaking a glance at Quinn out of the corner of your eyes.

His mouth was parted slightly, but his eyes were difficult to read – Quinn was difficult to read. He was wearing that dumbfounded look – one that often reminded you of an exaggeration of being dazed and confused.

“Is it lit only by string lights?” Quinn asked, not tearing his eyes away from the view.

You shrugged coyly, nodding your head in the direction of the steps, silently asking the question.

He nodded, and you both made it up the steps, you heading through the door first and holding it open for Quinn – who audibly let out a low breath when he stepped into the threshold.

You guessed he must have been mildly impressed by the exterior, but judging from the way his eyes seemed to widen and his gaze kept flicking almost wildly from the ceiling, to the tables and back up to the ceiling again. It was almost as though he couldn’t make up his mind on where to look.

Even after a waiter had approached and even after you’d requested a table for two, Quinn hadn't stopped gawking at everything. You had no choice but to resort to poking him in his side to get his attention, and even when he was following behind you, you had no doubts he kept looking at the ceiling.

Like in the window, the ceiling was packed with lights. Some flashed, some softly glowed, and some remained one colour. The waiter had paused at a table tucked towards the back, and just like you’d previously promised, there was barely anyone else inside. A couple of lone stragglers sat huddled in their chairs, but apart from that, the only sound above the occasional clinking of cutlery was the soft hum of background radio.

“Thank you.” You took the menu from the waiter and got settled in your seat, shrugging Quinn’s blazer off and placing your bag on your lap.

You scanned the menu half-heartedly, not having the willpower to read the descriptions of the food after your stomach was already churning up a whole load of nothing. You already knew what you’d order, and putting yourself through the added torture of imagining dish after dish of steaming food only seemed to make that ache in your stomach even more painful.

“Is this the mystery you were talking about?” His finger pointed towards the ceiling, where illuminated chilli’s hung down above your heads, all different colours.

“Part of it.”

“What’s the other part?”

You pulled a face, shrugging your shoulders, “Have you looked at the menu?”

He shook his head, furrowing his brows in confusion, until his eyes began scanning over the text. Then his face switched, brows shooting upwards in mild shock, “There’s something from nearly every cuisine here.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.” You agree, feeling proud of yourself for impressing him.

“What’re you having?” His eyes flick to yours over the top of his menu.

“Moroccan spiced pie.”

He nodded, thinking for a moment.

“Do you have any recommendations?”

“Shit, you really do trust me with your food, don’t you?” You breathed a laugh, arching a brow in his direction.

Quinn lowered the menu, an incredulous look on his face, and it suddenly dawned on you that maybe he knew more about you than you initially thought, “You’re a chef.” He stated, blinking once dramatically for effect, “I’d be stupid not to.”

You ducked your gaze, unable to control the way your cheeks warmed. You weren’t embarrassed by any means, just somewhat flattered that he’d remembered that; you were sure you’d only mentioned it once in passing when you’d been asked about work, and even then you weren’t aware that at the time Quinn was even listening.

Was he even there that day? You couldn’t remember.

“Just because I’m a chef doesn’t mean that you’ll like the food I suggest.”

“Oh, no, I think I will.”

“In that case,” you straightened, leaning over your menu. You didn’t know if Quinn had any specific dislikes or likes in food, so him putting you on the spot did put a little pressure on you – you wanted to get him something he’d like, something safe? But if he wanted to be safe, wouldn’t he have just chosen? You sighed, “I’d suggest a fusion dish? Maybe the teriyaki tacos with sesame nori?”

“Sounds good.” He put his menu on the table, and you were able to see his face properly under the new lighting. Despite the brightness of the lights and their combined effort, there always seemed to be a dimmed glow about the place – a soft illumination that somehow made the man in front of you look somewhat…enticing? You pulled your eyes away from his soft smile before you allowed yourself to change your mind or allow it to wander too far.

“I can’t believe they didn’t order enough food to feed everyone.” You found yourself talking, wondering exactly where that comment had come from considering the fact that your brain seemed hellbent on trying to distract itself from Quinn, therefore sending you into an inevitable whirlpool of not being able to think of anything but him.

“Right?” Quinn mumbled, his brows furrowing in something akin to concern as he remembered the night’s previous events, “Did you eat at all?”

You shook your head, “I had one slice of the small toast things they had, the ones with salmon and cream cheese on, but I didn’t have anything else. Did you manage to get anything?”

“I had two of what you had, and I tried to drink a couple of beers, but on an empty stomach? Didn’t think it was a great idea.” He shook his head in disbelief, trying not to smile at the ridiculousness of it all.

“It was pretty brave of you to even attempt the beers in the first place. How many did you have?”

“I had one and was halfway through the other and I think someone stole it – it was on the table and I went to the bathroom and it wasn’t where I left it when I came back.” He leant forward across the table, resting his crossed arms on the surface as though he was telling you a secret. He played into the notion, eyes scanning the room as if to suss out anything suspicious, before shielding his mouth with his left hand, “I heard they hired a wedding planner, and they were sure there would be enough food for everyone.”

Your jaw dropped, “Did they miscount their RSVPs or something? I don’t know how there was no food left when only half the people had gone up to the tables.”

“I have no idea, but if I ever get married I’m personally making sure everyone gets fed.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

There was a lull in conversation, and just as you went to adjust the straps of your dress, a hot plate was put in front of you.

Your stomach churned, and you didn’t think either you or Quinn even spoke when you were tucking into your meals. Judging from the way he nodded and didn’t stop to breathe through bites of taco, you could only rejoice in the fact that he obviously liked what you'd picked. Or, it was possible that his hunger had blinded his taste completely, but you relished in the former.

A win's a win.

It was when you’d both finished and were sitting back in your chairs that he’d spoken.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos?” He asked softly, and when you followed his line of sight, you noticed he was staring at the skin under your collarbone. Your neckline on your dress had warped slightly as your strap must have slipped when you were eating, providing him with a snippet of black ink.

You blushed unintentionally; you’d never considered your tattoos to necessarily be private to you, but not many people had seen them or even knew you had them, and for Quinn to know? It felt a little odd.

There was a voice in the back of your mind, and you didn’t know where it had come from or what its intentions were, but it muttered something briefly – and it sent your head spinning slightly.

It said: but it’s Quinn.

You didn’t know what it meant, but you offered Quinn a small smile, tucking your strap back up.

“Not many people do.” You hesitated. Usually you wouldn’t have expanded on the topic and just left the conversation in the dust, but he was looking at you earnestly, as though he was waiting for you to start talking – you knew he would listen as intently as he possibly could. You came to realise that he might have been quiet in group settings, but he absorbed every little piece of information like an everlasting sponge; he’d proved that much tonight, “I got that one,” you pointed at the patch of skin now covered by your dress, “when I was nineteen, and I’ve got a few now. Seven in total.”

He crossed his arms and leant on the table, eyes tracking down your arms and any exposed skin as though trying to spot another peek of ink. He settled on the crook of the inside of your elbow as you tilted your arm so he could get a look at the two that were on that side, “Do they have a meaning?”

“Most of them. I have one on my ribs that doesn’t mean anything, I just liked it in the shop. One of my friends in high school went on to do an apprenticeship for a tattoo shop back in Toronto and I let her practise a stick and poke design that she drew…It was risky but she was incredible, and I still go to her for all my tattoos.”

“They’re really pretty.”

You looked at him, only to find his brown eyes boring into yours, the flush from his new glass of beer pinking his cheeks – probably spurring on his boldness as well. You distracted yourself by taking a sip of your wine and playing with the stem to avoid his gaze.

“I know.” You replied.

There was a comfortable silence.

“I’ve had fun tonight.” You broke the silence.

“Me too.”

_ _ _

Petey didn’t have many parties, but when he did it was usually a small gathering anyway, and he always hosted in his apartment. His birthday bash was probably the craziest, though he’d once told you that somehow there were always more people that arrived than he’d invited. This time seemed to be no different.

You'd texted him on your way over, asking if he needed you to pick anything up from a store, so you’d arrived armed with a bag full of alcohol and another full of snacks – only to walk into chaos.

It reminded you of the Community episode you’d watched the other day where Troy walks in through the apartment to see several things on fire, furniture broken, and everyone trying their best to put out the chaos but only successfully making it worse.

That was the comparison that immediately came to mind when you shoved your way through the front door. Petey’s place wasn’t exactly small, but it was still packed to the brim with people. There was music playing somewhere, but over the chatter and shouting, you could barely hear it anyway. You had to push your way through the thick throng of drunkards to even make it to the table that Petey had clearly designated for snacks and drinks and even then you didn’t even have the room to pull everything out of the bags and onto the table; you’d displayed about half of what you’d bought when people started reaching in and taking stuff for themselves, at which point you’d given up even trying and moved around to the other side of the table to pour yourself a drink.

You downed it immediately.

When you’d gone to pour another, a hand gently touched your shoulder, and it was barely a moment later when Petey appeared, sliding in next to you.

“Thanks for getting supplies.” He yelled into your ear, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath already.

Petey didn’t drink often, and his party was barely about him anymore, more about the spectacle surrounding it, and it was hardly an hour in already. It gave you a pretty solid idea of what tonight would be like.

“This is insane.” You yelled back, knocking a gulp down. Your eyes were frantic, desperate to seek out a familiar face among the unrecognisable, and upon seeing no one but the blonde next to you, you took another gulp.

“I know. I might head out at some point—”

“It’s your party.”

“This is not my party; it’s out of control.” He held up his hands, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in apprehension. “I would say I’m surprised no one’s called the police, but even my fucking neighbours are here.”

“Is there anyone I can talk to?”

It was a vague and thinly veiled question – not entirely specific. It could have meant a million different things; you and Petey had quite a lot of friends in common for some very odd reasons, and you’d not said it with any particular motive at all. But Petey was looking at you weirdly, and it wasn’t because of the amount of alcohol already in your system.

He blinked, jerking his head away from yours for a minute and regarding you with suspicion.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brows.

“Nothing.” He shrugged.

“I was just asking if there’s anyone I can talk to apart from you—”

“I know. You don’t have to defend yourself.” He smirked, leaning back slightly as he took a sip of his own drink, an eyebrow flicking up.

He fucking knew something.

You clenched your jaw, “I don’t like that look.”

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” He shrugged, his smirk widening.

You tilted your head, the alcohol not helping to numb your growing frustration. You’d had a stressful day at work – even more so than usual; you’d heard rumours about a highly regarded food critic apparently planning to dine in your restaurant, so everything had been clamped down on to each miniscule detail. The last thing you’d really wanted to do tonight was come to a party with loud music, strobe lights and people you didn’t know. You didn’t particularly have the effort for social interaction, but you’d held out – for Petey’s sake.

And not only was it worse than you’d originally imagined, but the birthday boy himself was even planning on ditching, and you had yet to spot someone you were comfortable with.

Suffice to say, added on from your previous irate manner, you were a little pissed. It wasn’t Petey’s fault, or anyone’s really, but you just didn’t know if you wanted to stay.

“Quinn’s in the kitchen. It’s locked and he’s a little drunk too, but he told me the secret knock – watch, just do this.” He held up his hand, mimicking a pattern that you committed to memory.

“Why is he in the kitchen?” You asked, not intentionally pretending like you weren’t at least looking forward to seeing him – the last thing you wanted was for Petey to jump to conclusions, but you were going to have to at least put up with some teasing, because he’d most definitely noticed the recent dynamic change lately.

It was hard not to, considering you and Quinn went from not speaking a word to each other unless absolutely necessary, to Quinn approaching you and instigating a conversation – one that Petey had noticed neither of you seemed to shy away from. There were hesitant smiles and slightly awkward silences, but he’d noticed Quinn looked less distressed, and actually more like he wanted to be there.

But, of course, Petey didn’t voice that to you; he resorted to the odd teasing glance – very much like the one he’d given you earlier when you asked after a familiar face.

Now, however, he lifted his cup to his face to mask the smirk he was unable to control, and answered you carefully.

He didn’t want to be accused of ruining whatever it was that was going on, so he’d vowed to not meddle in your business – no matter how tempting it might be.

“He said, and I quote, ‘I need some me-time’, and I think he’d been here about forty-five minutes? He’d only just gone in by the time you arrived.”

You nodded, “I need some me-time too.” You patted him on the arm, “Happy birthday, Petey.” And kissed him on the cheek in a friendly gesture, and he nodded his head towards the locked kitchen door on the other side of the hustle and bustle in the living room.

“Thank you.” He muttered in response, before flashing a brilliant smile and turning his body to let you get past.

It took a lot of energy and shoving of elbows to make it through the living room. People seemed insistent on not budging when you’d politely asked them to move, though you did give them the benefit of the doubt that a, they were too drunk to comprehend anything anyone said, and b, couldn’t hear you shouting over the noise.

By the time you had made it and completed the secret knock that Petey had given you – you were sure the rhythm was familiar – there was nothing left to do but wait rather impatiently as someone knocked into your shoulder, sending you a little off balance. It was like being in an overly packed club, but the lights were on and you were on the verge of running out entirely.

Just as you were about to give up hope, and just as you raised your fist to repeat the pattern again, the door flew open, your hair momentarily whipping into your face. You barely had a moment to remove it from your face before a hand was gripping your wrist and leading you inside. Over the thumping of the bass, you vaguely registered the sound of a door slamming shut behind your head and the click of a lock sliding back into place.

After that, the music and noise from the other room seemed to dissipate, and you were standing in Petey’s kitchen – only the countertop lights on – with your heart pounding and head recovering from the sudden whirl of motion. You were sure you were blinking your eyes to clear the sudden fog, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the stark contrast from the mess in the other room to the absolute cleanliness of the kitchen. Sure, there were a few empty glasses near the sink, and a box of beer on the marble surface, but other than that, there wasn’t much to look at.

Until you registered the sound of a voice on the phone, and you looked to the floor, just a couple of feet in front of you.

Quinn was resting against the cupboards, his legs outstretched in front of him, and there was a phone held up to his face, a tinny voice exuding from the device.

“Who was that?”

Jack.

You averted your eyes from the scene in front of you, but your slightly tipsy frame of mind seemed intent on staring after Quinn. He was wearing a dark cap, placed backwards on his head, and a simple short-sleeved henley with jeans. Simple, but it didn’t stop your heart from quickening in your chest.

The guilt seemed to overpower that, though. You knew Quinn missed his family, and the knowledge that you’d stepped in on a FaceTime call with Jack? You wanted to walk back out into the party and let them have some time in private.

You did feel awkward standing there, looking a little dumb without a drink in your hand, and when Jack had asked who he’d let in, you had to turn your head, because suddenly Quinn was looking straight at you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Oh. I see.” Jack answered quickly, and Quinn turned back to the camera. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his cheeks flush under the low light of the kitchen. The alcohol you’d drunk seemed to embolden your actions, because upon seeing how flustered Quinn was as he stuttered to get his words out, you planted yourself on the floor next to him, a reasonable gap between your bodies.

He had no choice then but to tilt his phone so you were both in Jack’s eyeline, and the kid was already grinning from ear to ear, his hand coming up to wave in the frame, “Hey, Y/N. How are you?”

You smiled back at him. You’d spoken to Jack before on the occasion the Devils would play against the Nucks – neither Hughes brother seemed to pass up an opportunity to see each other when they had a game, and the two of you had had your fair share of interactions. Ironically, you knew more about Jack than you did Quinn up until the wedding a couple of months ago. The younger Hughes was friendly, approachable and incredibly smiley – somewhat the opposite of Quinn, though you were beginning to see that they were similar in more ways than not.

“I’m good, you?” You asked, pulling a knee up to your chest to rest your chin on.

“I’m very good. I’m fabulous, in fact,” he nodded, smile never fading, “but now that I see Quinn isn’t so lonely anymore, I think I’m gonna go…” He trailed off, and took a swig of a drink as you felt Quinn look at you out of the corner of his eyes briefly.

Jack took no notice of the action, “Anyway, miss you, Quinny, love you.” He blew a kiss through the phone, and Quinn smiled.

“Love you, miss you too, Jack.” This time Quinn waved at the camera, before Jack grinned again.

“See you soon.”

“Bye.”

Quinn dropped his phone in his lap and the silence that engulfed the both of you was achingly loud.

Until Quinn broke it.

“Hi.” Was all he said, turning to face you, his cheeks still slightly flushed.

You forwent the usual greeting, “What’s this about you being lonely?”

He breathed a laugh, adjusting the cap on his head, “Just that I got bored sitting here by myself, so I called Jack.”

“Did you prove you were ‘getting out’?”

Quinn nodded, folding his arms, “I put the phone next to the door so he could hear everything.”

This prompted a laugh from you, and you lent your head back against the cupboard door, “What did he say?”

“He told me that I’m too introverted for my own good, and that by hiding in the kitchen, I wasn’t putting myself out there, I was keeping myself in.” He answered with a good-natured eye-roll.

“He does have a point.” You admitted, rolling your head against the door to look at him, only to find he was already looking at you.

“Yeah, but you’re here too.”

“I haven’t vowed to socialise more.”

“Yet you still sought me out?” He raised both brows, laughing softly at the way you furrowed your brows and leant away from him as if you were disgusted by the accusation.

Intrinsically, yes, you had sought him out, but you’d outwardly asked Petey if there was anyone you knew and he happened to point you in Quinn’s direction, and you weren’t about to give either man the satisfaction of proving them right.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” you started, holding out your hands in surrender, “I’m only here because I asked Petey if there was anyone I knew, and he pointed me in your direction–”

“And you gladly followed.”

“Some might say that you were my last option because I was actually having fun out there. I just felt guilty for you being by yourself.”

“Some might also say that I was your first option and you immediately ran with it.”

“What are you drinking that’s making you so difficult tonight?” You deflected his statement, and you knew he’d picked up on the way you’d purposefully dodged actually answering what he’d said.

That had been the dynamic between the both of you recently: awkward starts when neither of you knew how to approach a conversation, but falling into a comfortable, teasing rhythm within minutes. It was weird how you’d gone from not talking to each other to being quite good friends within the span of four months.

You could have kicked yourself – this guy was right in front of you the entire time and you were only just realising it.

“Water.” He deadpanned and you tilted your head, not entirely believing him…until he reached above his head and produced a glass full of clear liquid, that upon smelling, you came to realise that he was indeed pumping himself full of water.

“I’m impressed.”

“That was my intention.”

“It was? I’m flattered.”

“Good.” He broke into a smile, and it was so infectious you couldn’t help but replicate it, “Would you like a drink?”

Your throat dried upon hearing those words, and you realised that even through the drinks, you’d not actually had anything that had quenched your thirst from dragging up two massive bags full of supplies, so you nodded, grateful for his offer, “What are the options?”

Seeing as you were both still comfortably sitting on the floor, Quinn had to slide himself over to the other side of the kitchen. You’d both been in Petey’s fridge many times before, but it always seemed to be a lucky lottery as to whether he had anything of real interest – a sentiment that you both seemed to take into account as you found yourself trailing after him.

The light from the fridge did more in illuminating the entire room than the lighting itself, and you both had to blink to allow your eyes to readjust to the sudden harsh, cool tones.

Your eyes landed on a bottle of electric blue smoothie and your mouth started watering.

“I fucking love this thing.” You found yourself reaching in and extracting the entire bottle before Quinn had the chance to comment, and this time you stood up, ducking under his arm as he held the fridge door open, and placed the bottle on the countertop, extracting a glass from the cupboard above.

It wasn’t long before you felt a presence press against your side as you poured the smoothie into the glass. Quinn was warm, and through your still tipsy haze, you could faintly make out his hot breath fanning your neck as he leaned over your shoulder to look at the bottle.

“What is it?” He asked, curiosity lingering in his tone.

“Pineapple, apple, guava and spirulina extract. And it is gorgeous.” You didn’t wait to screw the top back off before chugging half of the glass down, relishing in the coldness as it soothed your thirst.

Quinn moved closer, his torso pressing into your arm and the contact had you swinging your head to look at him. He held out his hand, clearly hesitating in saying something, and it was through the quick flick of his eyes between you and the glass had you connecting the dots before he could even open his mouth.

“Would you like to try some?”

He nodded.

“Want me to pour you a glass or…?”

He shook his head, “Can I just–”

“Yeah, sure.” You handed him the glass, feeling something foreign burrow itself in your chest.

He took a gulp, furrowing his brows as he tasted it properly, “Shit, this is good.”

“Right?”

He nodded, and before you could yank it back, he quickly tipped the rest of the glass into his mouth before you could protest.

You jaw fell open, and a short burst of uncontrolled laughter escaped you, “What the fuck was that?”

He shrugged, smirking as he placed the glass back down on the counter, “I was thirsty.”

You eyed the pint glass of water that he was slowly pushing out of your view with his fingers with distaste.

“How was your day?” The question caught you off guard, and you found yourself freezing in your spot.

It was so simple, yet domestic. A question your family used to ask when you’d come home from school, or what your friends would ask after a hard day at work. Coming from Quinn, though, the question seemed to take on an entirely new meaning.

To you, it meant something along the lines of ‘I care about you enough to ask about the trivial things’. It was simple, but it meant more than you thought it would.

He was probably just being polite, and now wasn’t the time to dissect everything he said and did.

You swallowed, your expression melting into one of neutrality. You’d opened your mouth to answer him, but nothing was coming out, and when you could feel the intensity of his gaze turning into something akin to recognition – as though he could sense the cogs turning in your mind – he seemed to soften, and nudged you gently in the arm in reassurance.

Truthfully, your day at work had been difficult.

And unlike Quinn, you hadn’t vowed to make more of an effort in the social scene, but after taking inspiration from the sentiment of his promise of self-improvement, you’d silently decided to somewhat draw from his idea.

Yours was to be more honest.

“Kind of stressful, actually,” you replied, “we’re supposed to have a food critic in at some point and everyone's strung pretty tightly…it’s a fast paced environment and one mistake could potentially be the difference between a good review and a bad one. If we get a bad one, there’s always that risk of not maintaining customers; it’s kind of a pivotal time right now.”

You couldn’t look at him when you were talking. You felt like an open wound with the threat of salt water on the horizon: terrified.

You’d always had a little trouble in talking about the personal stuff – it was why not a lot of people know about your tattoos. Yet, Quinn did.

And you were finding out that you trusted him more than you liked to let yourself – more than you’re comfortable with.

You found the strength to look at him, and were pleasantly surprised by the way he was looking at you. It wasn’t pity, or repulsion, or patronising in any way – it wasn’t any of the things you’d been scared to see. If anything, his brown eyes were soft, but held a glimmer of something you couldn’t recognise or associate with him just yet, and you knew right away that he was hanging onto every word you said.

When he noticed you looking at him, his mouth twitched into a hopeful half-smile.

You turned around and resumed your previous position on the floor, and he took the precious liberty of following suit, only instead of sitting right next to you, he chose to sit directly opposite. Your legs were still touching, but it meant you could see each other clearer instead of having to crane your necks at awkward angles.

“Where do you work?” He asked, using his arms as leverage to push himself against the cupboard again.

If he noticed your gaze stray from his face to the contours of his arms, he chose not to react.

“That place on Hornby Street.” You answered.

He tilted his head fractionally, his mouth parting in shock. You could tell he knew what you were talking about because he started to smile, “Holy shit, you work there?”

You nodded, feeling sheepish.

“And you’re the chef?”

“One of them.”

“I ate there three weeks ago.”

This time it was your turn to act shocked, “What?”

“Yeah, the best meal I’ve had in ages, and I’m not even exaggerating.”

“What did you have?”

He winced, “Basic. I had pesto pasta.”

“When?”

“I want to say…Thursday?”

“And you liked it?”

“Loved it. Like, I want to have it in an IV, I loved it that much.”

“Thank you, I think.”

He froze, his eyes slowly drifting from the countertop above your head to your smug face, “Fuck off.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He let out a sharp burst of laughter, one that made you jump. It must have shocked him some too, because he looked mortified for a moment after, until he’d remembered what he was reacting to.

“You cooked that?”

You nodded, “I make the pasta and pesto fresh, that might be why it was nicer than the usual pesto pasta.”

“Or maybe it was nice because you made it?”

You shrugged.

You knew the food you made was nice – it had to be if you cooked for a living, but you were never one to shy away from compliments of how good it was. You rarely did; you lived by yourself; whenever you’d go to a friends house, the last thing you wanted to do was cook even more food after a suffocating ay in the kitchen, so you tended to just order a takeaway; your family hadn’t even tried your food in a couple of years. To top all of that off, it was even rarer that you’d get recognised for your work when it was plated and fed to the customers – you’d only received one ‘compliment for the chef’ in your entire career so far, and even still your other colleagues don’t get many offered to them either.

So, hearing Quinn talk about your food that you’d made before he even knew that it was you that made it was nothing short of euphoric.

Quinn dipped his head, and when he next looked at you, something dropped in your stomach.

You could tell instantly that something was up.

“What?” You asked, the atmosphere now tense.

Something was hanging unspoken in the air above you both and it was unsettling. He looked a cross between pained and concerned, and his brown eyes seemed to hold a hint of torture.

“You know at the wedding?” He began, taking his cap off his head and fluffing his hair slightly, as though he was trying to play the question off as more casual than it really was.

In reality, it was casual. You knew it shouldn’t have incited the level of dread that had just accumulated in your very bones, but you had an inkling of where he was going with his question.

“Yes.” Your voice was tight, and your heart was hammering in your chest as you played with your hands apprehensively.

“Why were you so upset when you left?” He whispered it, as if afraid to break the delicate bubble you were both in.

You took a breath through your nose.

You hated talking about it, and you hated everything that was associated with it. The bitter taste of regret even thinking about it made you almost want to vomit, but the prominent flavour that stood out to you most was the burning – of anger.

“Um,” you started, taking a deep breath, unable to maintain eye contact with him, “I kind of knew Sam in college.”

“The groom?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, briefly looking up at him. He’d tensed, his arms now crossed over his chest, as though he had an idea of where you were going with it, “he was my first boyfriend in college, we started dating when I was nineteen and he was, like, twenty two, I think? And to say he was my first real boyfriend, we were pretty serious – we loved each other, and we were fine until he just broke up with me after a year, on our anniversary actually.” You laughed bitterly, rolling your eyes at the ridiculousness of it all – because in context, it really did make you want to just laugh. Not the usual laugh, but the belly laugh, gasping for breath and rolling around kind of laugh.

“It came out of nowhere?” He asked, voice soft.

You hesitated, “Sort of. We were arguing about little things, but it wasn’t anything detrimental. We’d forgive each other and move past it, you know?”

He nodded.

“I think I was in my second semester of my second year and I was nearly twenty one – he’d finished college by then, he was living in the area, and I think the first time I noticed something was up was when he’d refuse to let me stay over at his place. He stayed in this apartment; I was renting with a couple of my friends, but he’d never let me stay at his – which was really fucking sketchy. And I think the last fight we had before he broke it off was about that, and he stormed out – I mean, it wasn’t like I’d accused him of anything, I was polite about it, I wasn’t yelling, I just wanted to know – and he blew up on me about it, saying that I never gave him enough space – the works. And then a week later, he came by to pick up his stuff from my apartment when I wasn’t in and broke up with me in a ten second voicemail a day later.”

Quinn was silent. His eyes were wide, but there was something stony in his expression. His arms were still tightly crossed over his chest, and no matter how badly you wanted to not talk about this, you had to. You didn’t know where the resignation had come from – if it had been anyone else, you’d have just denied the entire thing and pretended that you didn’t feel too well, but that thought didn’t even cross your mind when it came to Quinn.

“Then he invited me to his wedding, and I naively went, thinking he just wanted to lay the past to rest or whatever, but it turned out he only wanted me there for the speech. You remember Macey’s speech, right?”

“The bride?”

“Yeah,” your heart was still pounding, but this part of the story had you almost anticipating his reaction to it, “anyway, she talked about when they met and when they started dating, and I didn’t think anything of it until I caught the dirty bastard smirking at me–”

“He didn’t.” Quinn sighed, shaking his head. His jaw ticked and there was an uncomfortable hardness in his eyes.

“He did.” You pressed your lips together in an attempt at a smile, but you knew it exuded more of a wince or grimace than anything, “Turned out they met about seven months into our relationship and he’d been cheating on me with her for the last five.”

You were met with silence.

A long silence.

“After our…meal, I got home and broke out the photo albums because most of that relationship was pretty much a lie, and I needed to know when—”

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

You scoffed, “You just happen to know that?”

“No, I just happen to know that a few flimsy fights about a valid subject doesn’t justify any reason for cheating.” He shrugged.

“Maybe I was too clingy. Or I wasn’t interested enough in him. Or maybe I was just a bad girlfriend because it was my first relationship–”

“You know it wasn’t your fault.” He muttered, unfolding his arms, a sad smile on his face.

You paused, taking a deep breath mainly to calm yourself. This was the first time you’d told someone about the entire truth – including the whole wedding disaster – and you were getting a little worked up. No tears, no sadness, just good old regret and frustration.

“Somehow that’s even worse.”

Quinn tilted his head in question, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that if he did that without any incentive from me – I wasn’t a perfect girlfriend, and I never will be – but what’s stopping a future partner from not cheating too? There’s no guarantee they’ll be faithful, because they could just turn around one day and willingly choose another woman. And how the fuck am I supposed to figure that out?” You were at the talking hands stage. Your hands had a life of their own as you spewed off your train of thought, suddenly not giving much of a shit about what Quinn thought of you, because he’d let you get this far into the deep stuff, and he hadn’t shown any indication of shutting you up.

In fact, he rather seemed to be determined to prove a point with the way he kept opening his mouth to say something until your continuous rambling cut him off. He’d leant forward, legs now crossed underneath him, and he was seated at your knees.

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea how you’re supposed to know – there’s no manual for shit like that, and it’s scary–”

“It’s terrifying.”

“–and the last thing you’re gonna want to do is throw yourself into something, I get that.” He paused, gritting his teeth in thought, “But I will say that if you ever need me to run a background check on someone you have your sights on, I will be more than glad to help you out.”

You shook your head, smiling bitterly, “I appreciate that, I do. But it doesn’t change the fact that there’s no guarantee. How am I supposed to know if I picked the right guy?”

Quinn blinked, then swallowed, and the silence that stretched almost had you aware of the sudden palpable tension that had enmeshed you both. You were aware of the way you were both sandwiched together in the smallest area of the kitchen, and aware of the fact that he looked almost as frustrated as you felt.

“You won’t. I guess you’ll just have to find someone you trust beforehand. I know that’s not helpful, and I know it won’t solve anything that that fuckwit did, but you deserve so much more than guys like him.” The earnesty in his voice was shattering, and all you could do was sit still and watch him talk. “There’s something so screwed up about the entire thing, because I know, for sure, that if I was dating you, there’s no way I’d even be able to concentrate on anyone other than you. The fact that he acted that way, like he was some sort of target as well, I mean, fuck, that’s seriously – God, it just pisses me off so—”

You didn’t know where it came from, or whether you’d even realised what you were doing until you did it, because as he was ranting – his chest quite literally heaving and his neck reddening – your brain decided that that was the moment it would change the way it thought about Quinn Hughes.

Right then and there.

The revelation crashed through you, and somehow your physical reactions to his passion and presence remained the same – as though that desire and nervousness and excitement at being near him and talking to him had always been there; like it had just been simmering under your skin, waiting for you to just recognise what you were feeling. It wasn’t friendship, you knew that, but it felt like something more than just a crush.

Crushes were supposed to make you self-conscious and stutter, but you didn’t do any of that with Quinn, you just felt so comfortable. And safe.

Then you wonder why you kept coming up short with reasons why you trusted him – you fucking liked the guy.

And for some reason, when you came to that realisation, the only thing you could do that made sense was clamp your hand over his mouth to stop him talking, as if the spewing of words toppling out of his mouth would somehow correlate with how much you liked him. The unconscious theory was that if you stopped him talking, then maybe you wouldn’t get too ahead of yourself and start overthinking everything.

You weren’t quite at that point yet.

But clamping a hand over his mouth only seemed to have the opposite effect you intended.

Because you couldn’t see the lower half of his face, it only seemed to make you more aware of his eyes.

Through the haze of his spouting, his gaze had trailed from you to dart around the room as he tried to keep his own train of through from flowing smoothly, and as you effectively stopped him speaking, he slowly and carefully slid his eyes back to you, and after that astounding revelation, the eye contact only seemed to send chills down your spine. His brows furrowed, this time softening slightly – from sheer exasperation to pure befuddlement. And because you’d halted him entirely, his hair flopped right onto his forehead, his cap left abandoned in his previous position after he’d removed it earlier.

Fuck.

You didn’t know if you were stepping over the line when you looked straight at his flopped hair. You knew what you wanted to do.

The hand not on his mouth twitched from where it had automatically landed on his shoulder. Quinn noticed – or rather, felt the movement. His own eyes slipped from your face to the hand on your shoulder, and all it took was the amused quirk of one of his brows and the purposeful glance to the curtain of hair that had obstructed his view for you to practically give in to the spontaneous urge.

The hand on his shoulder gingerly reached up and you carded your fingers through the hair hanging over his forehead. His hair wasn’t curly, as such, more wavy, and you were still slightly alcohol-induced, so it took a moment for you to actually realise you were touching his hair. It was so damn soft.

You pushed it back, now able to see both his eyes.

Your cheeks were already blazing from the heated conversation, and you knew if they weren’t on fire then, they most certainly were now.

You felt him smile from under his hand, and a soft laugh threatened to pass your lips at the ridiculousness of it all. You went to remove the hand on his mouth, keeping the hand in his hair still because you knew if you removed it, there was no way it wouldn’t fall back into his face.

“When you get tired of stroking my hair, just let me know.” He said it with zero hesitation, and all cheek, and due to your closeness, it was the first time you could tell that despite the water he’d claimed to have been drinking, and despite drinking some of the smoothie, the unfocussed glaze in his eye, he was still a little tipsy too. Not drunk enough to do anything he would regret, but enough to give him a boost of confidence.

You shut your eyes and immediately rolled them upon reopening them again. Your hand was still woven into his hair, but you let it drop rather dramatically.

“You’re a dick.” You muttered under your breath, but made no attempt to move away. You wouldn’t have done fifteen minutes ago, so you weren’t about to clue him in on the fact that something had changed for you.

His grin widened, but he said nothing – not immediately, anyway.

“So why’d you shut me up?” He spun on the spot, pushing himself against the cupboard next to you.

You hesitated, mind foggy with what exactly he had been saying, “You were getting pretty worked up, and the last thing you needed was to pop a blood vessel.”

“So, all of a sudden you know what’s best for me?” There was no bite to his words.

“No, I didn’t say that,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and fighting a smile, “just that it’s cute that you’d defend me like that.”

“Cute?” He wrinkled his nose, “I am deeply passionate about the injustice you faced with that cheating fuckface.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

_ _ _

Sunday mornings were your epitome of heaven. They were your only free full day of the week, and you spent every morning the same – catching up on housework, making coffee, baking sweet treats that would last you the week, watching a few episodes of whatever it was you were behind on.

Just lounging around.

Sundays were your peaceful days – guaranteed no disturbance.

They were the days you knew you could curl up on your sofa, watch some TV and let your body recover from the intensities of work.

So, when a knock sounded on your apartment door, you didn’t think twice about it. It was a Sunday, who would possibly be wanting to see you on a Sunday? You hadn’t ordered any parcels lately, or invited anyone over, so you just assumed it was someone knocking on your neighbour’s door.

Until it sounded again.

And again.

And by that time, you were fairly irritated with whoever it was, because they were insistent, and weren’t about to leave you anytime soon, so you were left with no choice.

You hauled yourself up off the sofa, pausing the show you were halfway through watching.

Maybe the neighbours weren’t in and you had to look after one of their parcels?

By the time you’d made it to the door, the knocking had changed – it was a subtle change, but there was a familiar rhythm to it that was remarkably similar to…

You looked through the peephole and had to do a double take.

Nevertheless, you wasted no time in unlocking the door and swinging it open. You were conscious of the fact that you were only wearing your comfies, and that you’d neglected to make yourself presentable – but in your defence, this visit was incredibly spontaneous. If there was a scale of spontaneity for things you thought could happen on a Sunday, a plot twist in your show would have been on the high end of the scale, but Quinn Hughes rocking up unannounced at half eleven in the morning, with a hanger and dark suit draped over his shoulder was not even on there.

It broke the scale – especially because the guy had never even been to your apartment before. He didn’t have your address.

Which only begged the question – “How did you get my address?”

He blinked, slightly alarmed at your tone, “Petey. I hope that was okay? In my defence, though, I rang you a bunch of times and you didn’t answer, so–”

“It’s my fault?”

He paused, tilting his head and screwing his face up in a way that had you recoiling in offence – he was trying to suss you out.

“Essentially, yes.” Was his answer.

You were very tempted to shut the door. So tempted, you jerked it in its place to see if he would react to the sudden movement, and he did – slamming a palm against it to stop you shutting it in his face. The momentary alarm in his expression was picturesque. The only thing you could compare it to was the image you’d seen online when someone had managed to get a picture of his face when he was getting pushed up against the boards.

But the reason you knew you wouldn’t actually shut the door in his face is because your curiosity for what he was actually doing here overpowered every other inclination.

A gorgeous man – who just so happens to be one of your close friends – shows up at your door unannounced and carrying a suit over his shoulder? You had questions.

“That was rude.” He stated, only removing his hand when he was absolutely sure you weren’t going to shut it on him.

“Oh, so now you want to talk about manners?” You raised an eyebrow in his direction, leaning on the doorframe with your arms crossed.

The corridor was deserted, and as you leant forwards to look the other way, Quinn refused to budge out of your line of sight. In fact, he only seemed to step closer until you headbutted his chest. This time, instead of arguing or allowing to explain himself on your doorstep, you took the liberty of giving him the benefit of the doubt, and shoved your door open wider, allowing him to wander inside.

Your apartment wasn’t too big; you lived alone in Vancouver, so the rent wasn’t exactly low, and a part of you felt shy at Quinn seeing how cosy everything was. It was like baring a piece of your soul to him.

A chaotically organised, colourful, cosy part.

You could tell he was interested, taking his time to look around. When you shut the door behind him, he wandered over to his left, skimming a hand along your booth seats at the island, and then he seemed to drift back over to the right side of the apartment to where your sofa was, along with the TV hung up against the wall. Then his feet seemed to have a mind of their own, because whilst he was still eyeing up the stack of books and candles on your coffee table, he found himself at the windows lining the far side of your apartment, bathing your entire flat in the sharp morning light.

“This view is incredible.” He said, jaw dropping in awe as he took in the skyline of Vancouver.

You nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you, and made your way back to the sofa. He was wearing tracksuit bottoms with a yellow t-shirt, and judging from the navy ‘M’ painting the front, you knew it was a UMich shirt.

And you never thought you’d say this about anyone, ever, but he looked good in yellow. Really good.

“Thanks,” he spun around upon hearing the closeness of your voice, and you hung an arm over the back of your sofa, “would you like something to drink? Or eat?”

He shook his head, “No, thanks.”

There was a flash of disappointment. He wasn’t staying long, then.

You waited until he’d torn himself away from the windows and settled with you on the sofa, his suit laid carefully next to him.

“What are you doing today?” He interjected just as you were about to ask him what he was doing here. He looked strangely hopeful; his knee was bobbing up and down and he couldn’t look you in the eyes for too long without letting his gaze wander.

“I mean, it’s Sunday, so I was planning on romanticising a quiet life, but now I have a feeling that won’t be the case for whatever reason.” You rested your head on your fist, watching the oddly domestic scene as he kicked off his shoes and mirrored your movements.

“Well, I was thinking–”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Hey, be nice,” he scowled – clearly joking, “but I have this thing tonight. A game, and it occurred to me that you’ve not been to a game yet. It also occurred to me that you take Sundays off, so I was thinking, would you possibly do me the honour of coming to one of my games?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, squinting his eyes as he waited for your answer.

You thought hard for about ten seconds – probably longer than necessary considering the fact that his invitation was pretty much a no-brainer anyway. It always was when Quinn asked you to do something.

You couldn’t help your brain from picking apart the way he’d said ‘my’ when he knew for a fact that you were also friends with Petey – really good friends with him, in fact. It was the blonde that had introduced you in the first place, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Quinn had intentionally worded it that way.

“I know it’s late notice, but I figured if I came by this morning you’d have more time to get ready so you’re not as stressed.” He offered, a slight grimace on his face. He thought you were rejecting him.

And you couldn’t lie, something clenched in your chest, both at his reasoning and consideration, as well as his sweetness in approaching the situation.

“I’d love to go with you.” You answered, and he immediately broke into a grin, the tips of his ears reddening as he blushed. He tried to play it off by turning his head away from you, but you could still make out the curve of his lips and the contours of his smile lines.

His happiness was so goddamn infectious it made you feel nauseous – in an unusually good way. Although it scared you to dwell on it, you couldn’t deny that the dynamic had changed between you both over the last couple of months – it started after Petey’s party and the little moments you’d shared on the floor of his kitchen, both intoxicated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because you’d had a recent epiphany and seemed to be more attuned to where he was, but you were sure something had changed. Perhaps a stare that lingered a little too long, or a colliding of glances that left you both turning away from each other a little flustered and hotter than you were before. You’d also somehow picked up an insane radar – one more like a magnet than anything, and somehow you’d always accidentally end up within a few feet of each other. If either one of you was feeling brave, perhaps there would be a teasing poke or brush of hands – nothing that couldn’t have been passed up as a serendipitous interaction.

Yet, with the way he’d reacted to you accepting his invitation, maybe you were wrong? Maybe that little voice in your head – the one too afraid to admit that maybe something could be made of this – was right?

Then again, you couldn’t hurt yourself more right now than by playing into that fantasy.

“Good, I’d like that.” He ran a hand through his hair, before reaching behind him and unzipping the suit.

It was a black suit, plain and simple, and as you stood up to inspect it further, you could tell by touch alone that it was of a fine quality. He’d draped two ties over the shoulders, one a dark red and the other a stripy blue. Even before he’d opened his mouth, you’d pointed to the red tie, and he nodded, offering you a grateful smile as he tucked the blue one back into the covering.

Truthfully, Elias had asked you if you wanted to go to a match before. You’d had varying excuses, mostly truthful, because you’d had work one time, then you were seeing your parents, and at one point you couldn’t go because you were ill.

It wasn’t as though you were trying to avoid going to a match on purpose, even if the prospect of having to navigate a busy, inevitably raucous arena by yourself was incredibly daunting – to the point a knot of apprehension had formed in your chest; your previous blow-offs had just been coincidental.

Petey had stopped asking after a while, and you never worked up the courage to ask him for tickets, even after he’d told you it’d be okay to do so – you just felt too guilty bothering him with such a hassle, so you’d eventually let the subject settle.

It didn’t quell your desire to go to a hockey match, though.

The only difference between you watching hockey now as to a year ago, was that you were keeping more of an eye out for Quinn than you were for Petey – it wasn’t hard to. He was an incredibly graceful skater, and played an unbelievable amount of minutes. It was hard to miss him on the ice.

The silence that had settled between you both was comforting, even despite the fact that you were both essentially standing up and doing nothing but looking at each other, fighting the embarrassing urge to keep a straight face and not blush.

“When do you need to leave?” You asked, changing the subject.

Quinn smirked easily, “Wanting to kick me out already?”

“The opposite, actually,” you admitted quietly, “I don’t really want you to leave.”

He tried to mask his pleasant surprise, his entire demeanour shifting slightly as his smirk melted into a soft smile as he placed his suit back onto the back of your sofa, “In that case, you’ve got me for two hours.”

___

There were three things you were hyper-aware of when you were sitting in your seat, embedded in a sea of black and white jerseys, music blasting over the speakers as the sound of skates and shouts erupted.

One: that he’d seated you against the glass, a few seats away from the bench, because (quote, unquote) that way you wouldn’t be able to distract him when he’s playing.

Two: that upon learning the only Canucks merch you had was a cap, Quinn had thrown you a spare jersey from the back of his car, his ears red as he apologised for not owning a Petersson one, and for giving you an old one of his instead.

Three: that you really fucking liked Quinn. Really.

So much so that when he’d subtly skated past you in the warm ups before the game, and winked at you under his visor, a sidewards smile on his lips – passing it off as nonchalant for the sake of the fans watching nearby – you had to leave your seat to down a drink before the game even started because your cheeks were practically burning with how much the simple action of acknowledgment had affected you.

Somehow, though, you’d made it through the game – concerned towards the latter fifteen minutes after Quinn had taken yet another puck to the face and raced off the ice to receive treatment. You knew he was fine; it had happened to him before, and you knew the more you dwelled on it, the more you’d worry, so you’d turned your attention back to the game, instead focusing on Petey.

You’d see him after, anyway. He’d told you he wasn’t on media duties, and after getting a puck to the face, you’d assume he’d be let off the hook a little easier – you weren’t entirely sure that was how it worked, but it seemed logical?

Which was how you’d found yourself back at your apartment, hopes not too high on him arriving back at your place within the next hour, the post-game analysis humming in the background as you manned a simmering pot of pasta.

You hadn’t bothered getting changed, and you’d had a cautious look through your cupboards, pulling out some painkillers and after realising that you didn’t actually know the extent of his injuries, had left the box out on the side. It wasn’t that you doubted the medical team wouldn’t have done a sufficient job – you just mostly wanted to show him you cared.

It was as you’d piled up your own spaghetti into a bowl, leaving Quinn’s portion warming in the microwave that there was a knock on the door. You took your bowl with you as you unlocked it, opening it wide to let Quinn through.

You followed him closely, shutting the door behind him. He hadn’t exactly looked at you long enough for you to assess his injury – too busy trying to shrug off the suit as he shamelessly stripped himself in the middle of your living room right in front of your eyes.

The first thing to go was his blazer, and you’d walked around him, back to the kitchen island, eyes flickering back to him as you spooned him his own bowl. It wasn’t exactly odd that the first thing he’d want to do was take off his blazer, but then he seemed to continue, and when he’d gone to unbutton his shirt all the way down, you’d frozen like a lovesick idiot. Neither of you had said anything to each other when he’d walked in, and now he was standing shirtless in front of you, either oblivious or ignoring your lack of speech and sneaky glances at the soft abs on display.

You felt something shift when he turned to look at you just as he bent down to snatch that Michigan shirt back out of his bag, eyes locking onto yours when he pulled it over his head.

It excited you and – quite frankly – had you swallowing and blood rushing through your body because it sent sparks flying throughout every single atom in your body. You felt uncomfortably hot, and the only thing you could do to try to diffuse the sudden tension was to divert your gaze away from him.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you’d been caught staring, and if you were being honest, you weren’t all that bothered. He stripped right in front of your eyes – there wasn’t much you could have done to avoid not looking at him in the first place.

“So, what’s the damage?” You asked, walking past him once more to place his bowl on the coffee table as you leant back into your sofa, twisting yourself so you were almost eye level with his recently clothed torso.

He paused, leaning his hands on the back of your sofa as he leant forwards, face only inches from you – so close you could see his individual eyelashes and the slight rosy hint to his cheeks, as well as feel his breath against your own cheek. You blinked, unsure of how to react, before he was poking a hand under his eye – right across his cheekbone, where a bruise was beginning to blossom on his skin, varying shades of darkness.

You frowned, pulling his hand away so you could get a better view of it. It was a tactful decision on your behalf when you neglected to let go of his hand until the very last second, when you used your own to tilt his head to the side, catching his injury in the light.

It was a fractional movement, but you saw him swallow, his eyes still boring straight into you. You didn’t know if it was a natural reaction or because you’d gripped his chin and physically moved him, but his mouth parted slightly, jaw going slack in your hand.

You, however, fought to keep your attention on his injury – eyes only flicking to his for a millisecond, unable to resist. He’d been bleeding, and there was a horizontal scab forming directly on top of his cheekbone.

“There’s painkillers on the side if you need any.” You breathed, slowly retracting your grip.

He nodded, slightly tense, “Thanks.” Then, after a slight pause, “Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

His hands went directly to his belt. You dropped your forkful of spaghetti in your bowl – shocked to say the least.

Somehow, it took him fiddling with his belt buckle for you to realise just how fucking pretty they were; you didn’t even know you liked hands until that very moment, seeing him expertly unbuckle himself with ease, and before you could let your mind wonder too far into the sudden fantasies that had purged your mind, you abruptly spun in your chair, heart racing and eyes staring blankly in font of you in complete bewilderment. Somehow, none of it felt real.

You were beginning to think he was doing all of this on purpose; that there was a plain insinuation behind your level of enjoyment and the fact that he was taking off his clothes in your front room.

Nevertheless, you remained somewhat normal in your reactions despite every morsel in your body burning with anticipation of something that wouldn’t happen. You turned your attention back to the TV, humming in agreement and spinning your fork in your bowl, desperate to prove you weren’t reacting to his actions, “Yeah, I did. I had fun. You were amazing, as usual. And the seats had a good view.”

You heard him laugh behind you. You weren’t aware you said anything that was funny, but you refrained from turning around, wanting to give him some privacy.

“We lost.”

You swallowed, looking at your bowl at his defeated tone.

It had been partly the reason you were on edge at his arrival in the first place; whenever Petey lost, he’d usually come over with the promise of a takeout, talk for half an hour and then sit and watch whatever you’d happen to agree on that night. You hadn’t had the chance to deduce Quinn’s post-match attitude, so this was all new territory, and your nerves were amplified because it felt like more was resting on how you reacted to his mood than it would have if it had been Petey in your apartment.

It felt like there was more to lose with Quinn.

“Didn’t impact my levels of enjoyment.” You tested the waters, waiting for a reply. When you didn’t get one, you continued, “I mean, I am disappointed for you and the team, and a little pissed you took a puck to the face again, but I mostly had fun just because I got to see you play.”

The rustling of clothing stopped behind you, and you strained your ears, desperate to gauge a reaction of some sort.

“Are you okay?” You poked, beginning to feel a little pit of dread form due to his lack of reaction.

He didn’t answer, just made his way around the sofa, picking up the bowl you’d left for him. You could feel him stop, eyes burning into the side of your face. You looked at him, noting the slight furrow to his brow as he looked from you to the bowl and back again – seemingly considering something important.

The hesitation on his face could have been from a number of things, but he was taking too long to answer a yes or no question, and it was sending you nerves haywire. Your cheeks flushed at the intensity of his gaze, and you paused eating as well, waiting for him to say something.

“Do you want to talk about it?” It was a futile question, and you were beginning to get slightly frustrated at his pensieve silence. You’d prefer it if he’d verbally voice his thoughts out loud so then you could get a grip on exactly what was racing through his mind.

He cleared his throat, just as a text buzzed through on your phone.

Petey: idk what you did but you broke quinn today

You: he’s unresponsive rn. catatonic. send help

Petey: WHAT DID YOU DO?

You: literally told him he played well and was glad i could watch him play.

Petey: symptoms?

You: i’d say silence but it’s not exactly out of character

You: he’s looking at me like i shot a horse in front of him though

Petey: oh

You: expand.

Petey: tell him to look at my messages IMMEDIATELY

You cleared your throat this time, placing your phone on the sofa next to you, turning back to Quinn, who’d abruptly turned his attention back to his bowl of spag bol, “Petey wants you to look at his message.” Was all you said.

He nodded, hand digging into his pocket and though it had only been a minute of silence since you’d asked the last question – not entirely long enough for the silence to become awkward, but long enough for Quinn’s neck to turn red, as though he’d only just realised he forgot to answer your question.

You waited patiently, concern slightly elevated when he coloured, blinking and awkwardly putting his phone back in his pocket, seemingly stuck with what to do with himself.

You couldn’t tell if he was horrified or downright confused, and as you spooned another forkful of spaghetti into your mouth, you couldn’t help the small smile of amusement that had crept onto your face.

“What the fuck is up with you tonight?” You found yourself asking, tone probably a little sterner than you’d initially intended — driven by the will it took you to squander the laugh bubbling up your throat as Quinn swung his head in your direction, eyes wide and an offended noise expelled.

“What the fuck is up with you?” He shot back, a telltale smile on his face, a drastic change to five minutes prior.

Petey worked his magic, then.

The tension in his shoulders seemed to evaporate and he seemed to gain some more energy, allowing him to freely overcome the imaginary blockage in his mind that meant he lost the ability to communicate with you for a bit. He seemed to melt back into the Quinn you knew how to communicate with.

Your jaw dropped, “What have I done?”

Quinn narrowed his eyes, as though he couldn’t quite believe your naivety to the situation, and when it was clear you genuinely had no clue what was happening, he rolled his eyes, “Little Miss 'I had fun just because I got to see you play’.”

Your eyes flickered to your TV, mind completely boggled at his reaction, before returning to him, unable to help the side-eye you were giving him as your mouth curled into a frown, “What about it?”

Quinn chuckled darkly for a second, “It’s like you genuinely don’t know the effect you have on me, or something.”

You shut your eyes, tilting your head in confusion as you let his words sink in properly. You held up a finger, but before you could speak he was talking again.

“On another note, this spag bol is delicious, you should be a chef — oh—”

You cut off his lame excuse of a joke, jabbing the held up finger into his side and finding a great deal of amusement in the way he yelped, automatically tensing, “Very funny. But let’s just backtrack a second—”

“Do we have to?” He groaned, cheeks red.

It was obvious he’d said his previous statement in a way that he’d meant for you to skip straight over it, and it was even more obvious that he was rather enjoying this confrontation of sorts, a smirk pulling onto his cheeks as he pretended to be embarrassed, turning his head at an angle and away from you as best as he could.

“Yes. We do.” You placed your bowl back on the table, now more confused than you had been at his sudden silence. “Because first of all, you come in and strip. Right in front of me—” You could tell he was about to protest, and you held up a hand, imploring him to keep quiet, “And then when I answered your question honestly, and then ask you ones in return, which — I don’t know if you know this, is how a conversation occurs – you just shut the fuck up and didn’t talk until Petey did whatever he did.”

He was ready to jump in, and placed his own bowl back on the coffee table, “The stripping thing was because I hate wearing suits around the house, they’re not exactly comfy for lounging around in—”

“What, you couldn’t get changed in my room?”

“No, because you wouldn’t have seen me that way—”

“What the fuck?” You gaped, unable to help laughing a little, “Was that you trying to flirt with me?”

He neglected to answer your question, instead carrying on with his original stream of thought, “And you can’t be oblivious to what you’re doing to me, surely? You’ve been saying all these things, even from the wedding, and I don’t know if you’re being intentional, but it makes me wonder—”

“Are you trying to tell me that my hints haven’t been landing with you?” You muttered, slightly concerned.

It was true, you had been giving him hints — hoping he’d at least recognise them. You thought it had gone straight over his head, but his words only seemed to confirm that he’d been collecting an armoury of sorts, and even despite all his collated evidence, seemed to lack the belief that you were meaning what you were saying.

You didn’t believe his disbelief — partly because (even though you had been slightly afraid of his rejection, you knew he’d let you down slowly) you’d not exactly been subtle with your comments.

Even Kuzy had picked up on it, and English wasn’t even his first language.

Quinn stopped, stared and breathed. He almost looked hurt, not including the sustained injury, “You meant all of that?” He asked, just as confused as you.

“Yes!” You all but yelled. “I just thought it all went over your head or that you were letting me down gently by not reacting or doing anything about it.”

At this he recoiled, looking offended, “Why the fuck would I reject you?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “Maybe because you haven’t given me much to suggest you’re even interested, dipshit.”

“Me? Not done anything to show I was interested?” He echoed, his voice getting higher in pitch as his disbelief skyrocketed. He jumped across the sofa to get closer, though you had a sneaking suspicion it was because his brain only seemed to think he was getting his point across if he told you face-to-face — in the more literal sense, “Okay, so the wedding? I chased you outside and then asked you if you wanted to get something to eat—”

“Because you saw me looking at you and didn’t want to be rude?” You reasoned.

You truly thought that was why he’d followed you out that night. Quinn was a polite guy, always following through and ensuring people felt welcome and included. That might had only been a reflection of that.

“Dude, no!” He winced.

“Don’t call me ‘dude’.” You pulled a face, and he nodded.

“You’re missing the fact that I fucking chased you from the conference room because I just couldn’t not talk to you that night.” He took a deep breath, running a stressed hand through his hair.

You pressed your lips together automatically, trying to hide the need to desperately touch him as a few strands still wet from his earlier shower hung limply in front of his face. You didn’t realise it but mouth parted slightly even imagining running a hand through his hair. You’d done it before at Petey’s party, but then you’d been a little intoxicated and given a helping hand in courage, but you had none of that now.

It was just you and Quinn.

“I don’t chase people on foot.” Was what he said then, “Ever.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

He groaned, his head collapsing in his hands, completely oblivious to the way you were trailing your eyes over the veins across his hands, and the curls on top of his head. You took a shaky breath, and it seemed to garner his attention because he lifted his face out of his hands slowly, furrowing his brows as he took in your nervous state.

“What’s up?” He asked, his eyes flicking between yours, a small smile slowly entering as you shook your head, taking a deep breath.

“You look way too hot right now.” You admitted quietly, clenching your jaw to contain yourself.

His reaction was instantaneous; his entire demeanour seemed to switch from frustrated to something unfamiliar. He swallowed, his smile diminishing. The only thing that seemed to bring you some comfort in his reaction was the way his eyes seemed to darken and his jaw flexed as his gaze travelled from your eyes straight to your lips in an incredibly unsubtle way. He wasn’t being shy.

His cheeks reddened and he paused, considering.

Then he lifted his hand and in one simultaneous notion he was guiding you towards him, hand gently resting on your neck, though before he’d even touched you you were leaning forwards to meet him halfway, both your mouths clashing in a greedy mess. His grip on you tightened in response to your hand tugging in his hair, and you found yourself being lowered to the sofa, Quinn’s arm snaking around your back as his body pressed you further into the cushion.

You allowed him to slot a knee between your legs, and neither one of you slowed your motions at the change of angle, mouths still moving against each other with a rhythm that would have had you guessing if you’d kissed Quinn before.

It was just so easy.

A desperate sound and slightly breathy moan escaped him when you tugged on his hair a little harsher, and it had you pulling him impossibly closer, his arms collapsed from where they’d been propping himself up, and every inch of him was pressed against you. With the newfound closeness, you could feel the way his chest was heaving clumsily, almost in time with your own hurried breaths.

Neither one of you wanted to pull away, your lips tingling and skin burning from where he slid a hand under the hem of your borrowed jersey.

You both lost your control embarrassingly easily, the added contact only fuelling your desires. You felt like a teenager again, with the way you were both rolling your hips into one another, leaving no choice but to pull away as your breathing became shallower, a delicious ache throbbing forming where you were both chasing the friction.

You both finished your spaghetti covered in blankets and smiling like lovesick idiots.

And then Quinn started laughing, “I know where all your tattoos are now.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

652 notes · View notes