#risen rambles :d

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Imagine

You're neatly tucked between Jack's legs on the boat, letting the sunlight glaze your skin as his thumb traced up and down your bare skin. The boat rocks methodically with the waves and wind, cries of joy and shared happiness from other families surrounding where the Hughes' had parked their boat.

In the little alcove, hidden beyond the trees lining the beach was a barbeque section and play park for young potentially restless visitors who had been stuck on boats all day. Voyaging to their final destination.

A cloud rolled over the horizon, blocking the glaringly bright sun, in which after a few minutes of restless grumbling Jack sacrificed his cap to shield your eyes so you could achieve some rest. Even when the minutes ticked past Jack stayed away, eyes wavering over your skin with practiced ease and familiarity but knowing this he could see where red patches were beginning to bloom along the exposed skin.

Tentatively sliding out from behind you and resting your head on a towel Jack moved over to where the steering wheel was, squatting down behind the chair and digging around in the travel basket for the sunscreen. He moved back over with the round pump tube and squirted it over his fingers before beginning to rub it into your skin, starting at your arms before moving down your stomach, sides and when he got to your legs he generously coated the front. Unaware to Jack, who had lifted your leg up onto his shoulder to rub the cream into the side and thigh you were awake.

"You look pretty up there." you murmured, a smirk gracing your lips as Jack leant down, leg still thrown over his shoulder as his lips met yours. The kiss heated slightly as Jack pushed down into you further, hand leaving your leg as both came to loosely cradle your face. His tongue pressed into your sealed lips, probing to break the seam.

Someone clearing their throat behind you two caused Jack to snap up, only to be met with a disappointed looking Quinn.

"I was coming for the sunscreen but it looks like you two are using it." Quinn crossed his arms, "I would be careful Jack, it doesn't say it should be used internally."

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it so is. y’all should see my dream board.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Cradle Me

Father!Quinn x Son & Wife!Reader. Word Count: 1,1k Authorial Note: My next voted WIP! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I did while writing it! Don’t know if it’s my best piece then. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of birth.

Elliot Samuel Hughes came screaming into the world at 4:12 p.m., Quinn only knew his son for a matter of awed, breathless moments before the world sharpened—and chaos erupted.

Nurses swarmed you, dabbing and cleaning with sodden warm towels. A warm, slimy bundle of swaddle-blanket and baby reached your chest as the obstetrician stepped back from your glistening body. Quinn's reddened hand slipped from your grip, instinctively cradling the baby to your chest. His other hand, shaking slightly, gripped the bed's plastic rail. Leaning forward, he rested his right arm limply across your shoulder, his forehead gently touching yours as the two of you gazed down at your son.

"How’re you doing, Dad?" the obstetrician asked from the sink as he scrubbed his hands clean.

Quinn blinked, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "I feel sick... but in a good way." He laughed softly, joy plastered permanently on his face. "We created a human... that's fucking scary but awesome at the same time."

Even in your post-birth haze, a smile graced your lips. It was an awesome thing indeed. This was your person now, a culmination of Quinn and your love. Despite this baby being considered a gift, he clearly was sent to test you and Quinn’s love for each other. No parenting class could have prepared you for the unfolding chaos that was leaving the hospital and heading home. The first day at the hospital was incredible, the nurses gently guided you and Quinn in the ways of parenting. But once you left and arrived home, the learning curve turned into an aggressive crash course.

Emotions ran high for every family member. Every nap missed, messy feed, spit-up, or nappy mess that needed cleaning up frayed the string further. Quinn and you had been remarkably naïve to think that this journey would be easy, even though you’d been dreaming collectively of this moment for years.

Quinn, along with self-proclaimed uncles Elias, Brock, and JT, spent hours working on the perfect nursery for baby boy Hughes. From wall decorations to the crib and changing table—which you insisted had to be powder blue with clouds and a grassy field with cows in it—the boys poured their hearts into it. Once they had finished assembling the room and you'd let it air out due to your hatred of the smell of fresh paint, you added the final details: books, blankets, nappies, and wipes, along with baby clothes hanging neatly on tiny coat hangers.

The first night home from the hospital was powered purely by adrenaline. You and Quinn took shifts with baby boy—changing, feeding, and sometimes just comforting him to sleep. By the second and third nights, the exhaustion set in. Leaving the warmth of the bed became a Herculean effort, especially for you. The physical toll of birth weighed heavily on your body, and sustaining new life felt overwhelming.

Quinn tried his hardest to take the load off, seeing how hard you were working to make the transition smooth, though it felt futile. His patience held up remarkably well for the first four days, but by the fourth night, tension crept in. Snappish words replaced your usual playful banter, and the distance between you felt like a growing chasm. Quinn’s touch, once so comforting, now felt foreign. Exhaustion tangled both your nerves, and intimacy between the two of you became a distant memory.

That night, an abrupt “goodnight” was shared, accompanied by a peck on the cheek. You both lay there in the dark, separated by a wall of fatigue, each praying for sleep that never came, as baby boy woke again at distasteful hours of the night.

Night five was the killer. Some ungodly hour like 1:03 a.m. glared back at you from the microwave as you ambled around the kitchen for the second time that night. You’d fed him twice now, but much of the milk had come back up in spit-up. Quinn had changed baby once and had checked on him again 45 minutes earlier.

There was one distinct problem: the baby only slept when he was held. You could do as many laps around the kitchen as you wanted, Quinn could rock him for hours, but as soon as baby landed on the bassinet’s mattress, it was like laying him on lava.

"Still no luck, darlin’?" Quinn’s voice came quietly from the doorway, his tired form silhouetted by the dim light of the stairs. He met you halfway, his brow furrowed with concern.

You let out a soft, frustrated sigh. "Every time I put him down, he cries," you whispered, blinking back tears. "I’m so tired, Quinn."

He stepped closer, reaching for your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "C’mon, let’s go back to bed," he murmured, leading you gently up the stairs. Exhaustion had blurred the edges of your world, and you forced a tired smile as he kissed your hand again.

"He’s just going to cry when I put him down, Quinn," you stated tiredly as he threw back the covers for you. The softness of the bed felt like heaven against your aching body, and you settled in without a second thought.

Quinn, now shirtless, pulled baby from your arms and nestled him gently on his chest, holding him snugly as he propped himself up with pillows. He tucked you in under his arm, pulling the blankets over both of you.

"Sleep now, darlin’," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. Baby wriggled slightly in his swaddle but quickly relaxed against Quinn's warmth. "If this is how we have to do it from now on, fine."

Quinn sighed, his grip tightening around both of you. "At least we have good chiros at the rink."

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Sunsets & Daisies

Luke Hughes x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Description: Luke Hughes and his fiancée always have an annual spring photo shoot, this year for their fourth anniversary Luke gets some welcome news.

Every year, when September hits Luke and Y/N venture to some decadently and much fought over location for their annual photo shoot. What once started with the two cramming into a Photo Booth, drunk on Luke’s birthday became somewhat of their tradition.

This year Y/N had practically begged Luke to relinquish all control he had and give it to her, given as of recently a huge surprise - a future altering surprise, was now at play. It had been almost nine months since Luke proposed and with the wedding two days away the couple thought this would be the perfect time to have the shoot before the season starts.

The location was about a forty-five out of Michigan, and was scheduled for the late afternoon in an attempt to achieve some sunset lit pictures. Luke’s sling added to the difficulty of getting ready, being sure not to accidentally aggravate his shoulder while also trying to get the polo shirt on was a massive task.

"You're too tall Lukey, can you bend down a sec?" you murmured, making sure to gently thread the bunched fabric over his injured shoulder first. The swollen, bruised skin making you grimace as Luke hissed through his teeth when you rotated his arm to allow the other one to slip through. "Sorry bub."

"It's alright." Luke whispered, "You're doing your best and their isn't much else we can do for the pain."

"You can have another does of pain killers when we get there, I'll put them in my purse for you to take before we get there.” The girl spoke as she put said medicine in her purse, among other essentials as well as today’s surprise. While she was allowed the liberty of preparing the surprise with the photographer by graciously offering to organise this year's photo shoot, claiming that Luke already does to much. However if Luke told you the story, it would have been told so dramatically the person listening would have assumed you held him at gunpoint. Which was completely untrue. You had used a hot spatula.

"Sounds, good." Luke spoke, grabbing a cap, using it to brush his hair back so it sat perfectly. You could see the one handed struggle he was having as you watched his scrunched up face in the mirror.

With a heavy sigh you crossed your arms, staring at him in the mirror, "Luke, if you think for a second you are wearing that cap during the shoot you have a lot more concerning things to worry about rather then your shoulder."

“I wouldn’t dare, it’s just till we get there so my hair doesn’t get super frizzy.” Luke stated, giving a pointed look as he turned back around and started to walk over to where you sat at the vanity, brushing the last bits of makeup across your face with the brush before turning the light switch and watching the bulbs dim till the room was bathed in darkness.

Exiting down the hallway and plucking the seperate car, house and gate keys off of their designated wall hooks in the entry way, playing them into your purse knowing because of Luke’s arm, even though he would insist on driving you will have to. Walking into the kitchen, hand brushing past the marble countertop, fingers drifting over the bunch of bananas sitting on the stone as you contemplated what you wanted to eat as well as a snack to take.

Luke trotted down the stairs quickly, heavy footsteps sounding out, softened by carpet but still loud enough to contemplate whether or not an elephant was storming throughout your house. “Should I wear my white sneakers? Or my blue ones?”

“I’d wear the blue.. well they are navy actually. There might be red dirt there and it will be easier to get it out of the blue rather than the white.” you said with an analytical tone, thinking best about the circumstances. “Besides, they will work well with your shirt.”

You heard Luke shuffle off down the hallway to the mud room, where you had all the shoes stowed away in little cubby cubes under the coat rack.

“Can you grab my black ankle boots please?” you requested as you opened the fridge, still in search for snacks you knew you were going to want inevitably. It was remarkable how dense men were sometimes, Luke, who knows you inside and out hasn’t even put a thought as to why you may be eating more or why you wanted one food constantly. Almost like you were craving, something.

“The ones with the little chain?” Luke called back out, you could hear him pulling the weaved baskets in and out.

“No! The ones with the little ribbing down the side of the legs?” You spoke, albeit louder so it carried down the hall into the room Luke was in.

“So the ones with the chain!” Luke’s tone matched yours, his with filtered confusion. He was holding said boots, they were black with a tan, woody coloured block on the heel of them, although it added little height and across the ribbed stitching on the side of the boots was a dainty little gold chain.

From where you were standing, brow creased as you looked into the fridge, eyes darting from the bread to make some toast, to the eggs which you could quickly scramble and maybe put on the toast. Then your eyes locked with the packet of dark chocolate covered almonds. Now they would be good.

“Y/N!” Luke cried, still looking at the boots as he waited for an answer. Looking at the wall with a expression of concern and disbelief.

“They aren’t the same boot Luke! They are different bo-“ Y/N cut herself off as Luke wandered into the kitchen, boots in hand. “Oh. But they are two different boots! I swear they are!”

Slamming the fridge door shut, discarding the loaf of raisin toast and butter container and jar of strawberry jam on to bench, crouching and letting the items fall from your arms onto the bench with a clink from the glass jar. You rounded the counter, using your hand to prevent you from bumping your hip bone on the stone.

Luke watched as you damn near jogged, more of a hop, skip and jump down the hall towards the mud room. It was cute, watching your light anger in being wrong show through your actions. Listening to the manic shuffling of the woven crates as you pulled them out of each of their cubby shelves only to see they weren’t the pair of shoes you thought existed, but clearly didn’t. When you came stomping back down the hall with a heavy pout and furrowed brow, giving the boots which matched the description you gave with disdain.

“You were right.” Your tone was short and sad.

“Yeah.. is that upsetting you?” Luke asked, eyebrows scrunching together.

“It is. It shouldn’t but it is.” You spoke in an incredulous tone. Moving back over to the bench, fingers toying with the plastic covering the bread loaf. You felt as if you wanted to yell, cry and scream all at the same time. Darn mood swings.

Luke just laughed, a rich hearty sound that made your knees wobble as you screwed open the jam jar, placing the raisin toast into the toaster, waiting and ruffling through different packets of chips in the snack drawer picking out two and throwing them in Luke’s direction.

“What flavours do you want?” You asked, still swatting your way through the chip drawer.

“I’m not going to be hungry. I ate before remember?” Luke looked up from his phone.

“Okay the-“ you cut yourself off as the toaster popped up, bringing the raisin toast with it. You grabbed the toast out, flinging it onto the bench after realising it was too hot to just hold onto.

Smearing the butter and jam onto the slices of toast, shoving one into your mouth holding it in your teeth as you turned and placed the bread and condiments back into the fridge. After taking a solid, hearty bite of the toast you placed it back onto the bench, not minding the crumbs that dropped off it. You grabbed the boots from where they sat next to the kitchen island counter and slipped your feet into them, the black tights you were wearing to battle the brisk september air aiding in your pursuit.

"Are you ready to go?" Luke looked up as you asked him this, stretching his none injured arm out, then slotting his phone into his back pocket.

"Whenever you are!" He replied enthusiastically, standing up and holding his hand out for you. He watched as you grabbed your purse, still holding your piece of toast trying not to let the jam dribble down your hand. Luke held the front door open as you stepped out and followed the path to where the car was parked in the driveway. You pressed down on the key fob to unlock the door so you could slide into the driver seat while Luke situated himself in the passenger seat, awkwardly reach across his body to pull the seat belt over and click it into place.

Mirroring Luke, albeit with more ease you strapped yourself in before pulling backwards out of the driveway, checking both ways for traffic. Heading to the stop sign at the end of the street, pulling away from the suburban area and driving away from the city after taking an entry onto the highway to go south. Luke had taken care of the music, connecting his phone to the car via aux cord and playing the majority of his songs, with your input for a song here and there.

"Play that Garth Brooks one.. the country one Jack really likes." you spoke, voice raised slightly to project over the song that was currently playing.

"Why would I play that?" Luke questioned back, his face skeptical.

"Because Callin' Baton Rouge is a fantastic song. Now play it." you responded, looking in the rearview mirror, checking the lanes next to you before merge into the exit turning lane, heading down a rural street where the sides of the road was lined with fences holding cattle in and big tall trees acting as a windbreak.

Even though he had absolutely no idea where the final destination was Luke was staring to catch on that it might have something to do with a field, something very nature-y. He was right, or by the fact that you pulled up next to a white toyota camry near the entrance gate to a field which was bordered with a small forest. Following you and getting out of the car, he watched as you ambled over, shook the young woman's hand.

"Luke, this is Kelly. She will be doing our photos this year." Y/N introduced the photographer, it was obvious that she wasn't a random due to the high quality canon camera she was cradling in one arm.

"Pleasure to meet you." Luke exchanged pleasantries with the woman before the little group of three set off into the field, heading towards the treeline. There was a dirt track that Luke could hear led down toward a creek, he could see why you had told him not to wear his good white shoes, there was a certain chance his shoes would be getting a little dirty.

With all credit to you, he had to admit that the spot was absolutely stunning and he couldn't imagine a more perfect place for the photos. Particularly when the dense foliage thins out and he can see the beautiful architecture of some kind of ruined building. Nature had taken over, vines crawling all up the elegant arches which were bathed in late afternoon sun.

"This is beautiful darlin'" Luke murmured in your ear as he looked up from where he was perched on a rock, this was just one of the many positions and places Kelly had you too stand, sit, hug, kiss, smile or laugh for the photos. He already seemed elated at the fact the photoshoot was happening, he hadn't even gotten the news that was turning your stomach inside out with nerves. Or was it something else?

"Okay, Luke, can you turn and face the creek? I need Y/N behind you, and then you are going to turn around." Kelly asked, setting up for the final shot of the big moment. She winked at you as you pulled the little reel of photos out of your purse. Taking a deep calming breath as you stood behind him, holding the photos that represented your future with Luke, you hands were shaking but you stood. "Okay Luke. Turn around for me."

As Luke did you met his briefly before they locked onto the ultrasound photos you held for him to see. His beaming smile dropped into a gape as he looked at the photos dumbfounded, but it quickly returned as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words he so desperately wanted to say. Instead he scooped you into his arms, spinning you around as the camera clicked. Capturing this moment forever, allowing you to reflect on it and show it to family and friends.

"Your- Your seriously." Luke stammered, placing you down, cradling the side of your head as well as the side of your stomach.

"Yeah.. I am." you smiled back, matching his grin with one just as bright.

He pulled away turning away and pumping the air before shouting into the forest clearing. "I'm going to be a dad!"

Yes you are Luke Hughes, a damn great one.

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Imagine

Your sprawled across the backseat of Quinn's car, hands shielding your eyes from the glaring sun as it beams down. Unrestricted by any clouds as it rotated through the blue bird day. Beach days were your favourite, you loved laying out a towel and bathing in the golden glow. You were careful, constantly reapplying sunscreen and making sure you had plenty of water as well as electrolytes, most time fruit too in the esky. Today though, was not your lucky day. Everything just seemed hotter than normal, during the mid-afternoon after an intense game of beach volleyball in which a drunken play fight between Jack, the referee for that match and Quinn, who swore with his life that ball had stayed in. You maybe laughed to hard and that's all you played it down too as you deemed you needed a break because of lightheadedness. Watching the unfolding chaos with a barely there mindset, taking copious mouthfuls of water down before retrieving a hydrolyte ice block from the esky and chopping the end off it as you sucked.

Quinn, albeit somewhat altered due to alcohol, meandered over to the towel you had perched on. He noticed your hat which had been pulled down your forehead in a ditch attempt to protect you from the heat. He too noticed your abnormally red cheeks, clearly sun warmed. He placed the back of his hand on your cheek, feeling the heat your skin emitted before sliding his thumb down to cradle your chin.

"Sun gettin' to ya?" he murmured, even his hand was cold against your warmed skin.

"Little bit yeah.." you spoke back, not expecting him to hoist you into the air, cradled in his embrace, grimacing as you collided with his wet, sand covered chest. He began marching up the sandy shore before heading to his car, unlocking it, turning it on and air con up before laying you down.

"S'okay honey.. coolin' you off."

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Summer Quam's

Description: “It’s like 500 degrees, we are not cuddling!” “But you already threw off all the blankets?!” “I don’t car- STAY ON YOUR FUCKING SIDE!”

Welcome back to thedevilrisen fic's! I am looking forward to writing the more! I think I may be a little rusty, sorry in advance!

Word Count: 1.4k

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Distraught storm clouds rolled over the horizon, their gloomy rumbles accompanied by piercing claps of thunder as blinding flashes of lighting embellishing the cool grey and cinder coloured sky.

With them they brought warm, moist air which was just on the side of uncomfortable, when the summer storm's roll in the humidity dial permanently spins, like a compass without an identifiable magnetic force. The only hope of relief being the rain that would come, days dragged by, elongated as clouds grew larger and larger, dense and weighed down by droplet's begging to be released from their misty prison.

Movement inside the apartment was very little, dehumidifiers hummed in several different rooms, fan's purred as they fought to circulate the hot air. Still nothing changed, the uncomfortably of the night never dulled as the sparkling lights in window's dimmed into a lightless cavity.

However in your apartment, calmness was not achievable not matter what happened. Restlessness was prominent throughout the evening, the constant changing ice packs to keep cool. The refusal to eat hot foods made it very hard for Connor who was trying to make dinner and stick to his meal plan because according to him a pint of Ben and Jerry's was not an appropriate even when you were dying.

Yes. You were told you were being melodramatic and to come and help chop tomato's for the salad Connor was going to make as a compromise to not eat hot food. Thinking that the cold food would be less problematic. He was so wrong.

"Connor." you whined, for most probably the fifteenth time in a span of about five minutes.

"No, Y/N." he stated, slightly irritated, the heat creating a simmering tension that danced like a mirage. Utterly fed up with not only the heat but your complaining Connor was very much now regretting asking for your assistance. "How about you just go and get a shower or something? I'll finish up here."

You frowned slightly at his borderline begging tone, you knew for basically being a polar bear who lived in the cold the heat was not compatible for him. Knowing it would be better than risking a small, meaningless argument you agreed and meandering down the hallway, soft carpet compressing and splaying underfoot as you moved to the bathroom.

Even though it would be sensible to bathe in freezing water, you didn't, finding the cold water jarring and instead opting for a mid-warm shower instead. The water, slid down your body, cooling you off but not dropping your body temperature completely. Taking the edge off the heat but after stepping out of the shower, seeing the steam still curing up towards the fan on the bathroom ceiling which hummed, as the light gently flicked.

Not bothering to wash your hair tonight, knowing that it would be a nightmare to dry with the moisture in the air and running the hair dryer would create more heat which was not needed in the apartment.

Moving back into the hallway and venturing into the kitchen where Connor sat, left leg swinging beneath him on the bar stool. His fork stabbed at the green leaves and cooked meat in the decorative bowl his mother had sent as a gift set when you first moved in to the apartment six months ago.

"Your's is in the fridge, I wanted to keep the smoked salmon cold because I know you don't like it warm." Connor mumbled, looking down, guilt swirling in his stomach at the fact that he had snapped earlier, he didn't want to but the heat did funny things to him.

"Thank you, love." You moved, cautiously across the tiled kitchen, sighing as the grey tiles cooled the bottom of your bare feet. Opening the fridge, squinting slightly as the all-but surgical light shone out, picking the porcelain plate up off of the top of the tupperware containers in which the plate was so precariously balanced on top.

Feet pattering back across the floor as you moved to slide into the vacated chair, that Connor left after he had his food so he could shower before bed. Stabbing into the greens and listening to the crunch as the fork pierced though leaves and you brought them to your mouth. Connor's cooking was always delicious but something about the heat was altering it, or maybe the lingering tension left in the air from the tense exchange previous.

Swallowing the last mouthful food, slipping off the stool and around the counter top. Placing your hand on the corner of the bench that protrudes to stop your hip from bumping it and aiding the already blooming bruise from when you hit it previously that day, you placed the plate into the sink, gently on top of Connor's.

Almost tip-toeing down the hallway to your bedroom, you stepped inside, hand holding the door, opening it slightly before shutting it behind you. Glancing around to see Connor pulling on a pair of sleep shorts, hair still damp from his shower.

Shuffling along the carpet into the bathroom as you picked up your toothbrush, off of the charger. Uncapping the toothpaste and squeezing a blob onto your brush. Coming to life with a purr you brushed your teeth while straining to listen to what Connor was doing.

Spitting out the foamy liquid when the electric brush pulsated to signal you were done. Pulling a folded hand towel out from underneath the sink, cleaning the corner's of your mouth from the foamy remnants before hanging it to dry over the faucet.

Moving with purpose back out into the bedroom where Connor had dimmed the lights and drawn the curtains before clearly settling into bed himself. His large frame, draped in the sheets fidgeting around trying to get comfortable amidst the heat.

Walking around to your side of the bed, picking a loose fitting sleep shirt off of the floor, that you are pretty sure belonged to Connor six months ago but was somehow commandeered during a visit to his apartment in Chicago and gently pulling it over your head. Opting for just the shirt instead of sleep shorts and a shirt.

Pulling the cotton covers back from the mattress and plunking down into the gap made, swinging your feet onto the bed and tucking them under the sheets, before dragging them up your body and shuffling into a laying position, in the same place you normally lay. Close to Connor so you can feel his body heat, and more often than not. End up cuddling.

Tonight though, you hesitated as Connor could potentially be personified as a windmill. Writhing in the sheets as though they were gripping him and trying to force him somewhere against his will. Rolling over away from his flailing limbs as he flug half the sheets to the foot of the bed, in what seemed like a mad ditch attempt at getting comfortable.

Finally after a few more seconds of tossing and turning, whatever vice that was supposedly gripping him and refusing the respite of sleep let go. Settling onto his side you saw this as your perfect opportunity to snuggle in, tucking yourself under his arm allowing the weight to lull you into a floating state.

That was until he snapped, an angry and guttural sound of irritation projected towards you, "It's like five-hundred degrees, we, are not cuddling."

This made you giggle slightly, even in his anger clouded state you knew he would never mean that. Like a defensive child he pushed you across the sheets, clothes gripping as he did so.

"But Con! You already threw off all the blankets?!" You whined back, thinking that once he'd done that would have been enough, but it was not, beginning to wriggle back towards him.

"I don't car-" he cut himself off, feeling your warm skin brush against him again. "STAY ON YOUR FUCKING SIDE!"

You erupted with giggles, rolling around on your side of the bed, finding his defensiveness hilarious, accepting the fact you weren't going to get cuddles tonight and hoping the heat would die off by tomorrow.

-

Later into the night, when the clouds rolled over and the droplets fell, chasing each other down windows and dispersing the heat from the air. In the slumber that was once restless but now no more, Connor dragged you into his arms where you laid, tangled till the morning sun rose.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Last-Minute Miracle.

Pairing ~ Hughes Brothers x Reader

Word Count ~ 1.4k words

Authorial Note ~ My very belated HHH fic. I hope you all enjoy and reblogs are so, so appreciated!

TW ~ Nothing! Just heaps of lovely fluff! More of a focus on Quinn, maybe one or two name mix ups!

Lights glow in the windows of small town buildings. A picturesque town preparing, snow blankets the streets and holiday decorations bring a magical glow to the town square. Iridescent string lights hung, illuminating the window of the town's most beloved bakery, Holy & Hearth.

Enclosed inside the brick walls of the century old building Y/N, the owner, a normally calm and joyus young woman was now buried under overwhelming pressure. Y/N, a passionate baker, has always taken pride in creating the perfect Christmas treats for the town's annual holiday festival and festive season. Procuring the delicacies was a lone burden she shouldered, after her father's passing she took the brave step up to run the bakery that was previously his, her grandfather's before that and his grandfather's prior to that. This generational Christmas tradition was enormous for her family, but more specifically, her.

This year, thing were falling apart. Crumbling spectacularly, Y/N's assistant and best friend had recently gotten back from a trip visiting cousins in Michigan, a bustling state with a large city. A far cry from the small snowy town, its glistening lights and joyous atmosphere seemingly freezing everyone in it's bubble in time. When she returned though, it was with a nasty dose of viral tonsillitis.

"I'm sorry Y/N!" She choked out horsely over the phone, and you could tell how remorseful the friend truly was. This was the first year the two would run the event together, months of angst and painstaking late hours sampling recipes was the lead up to tonight.

The festival started tomorrow at ten. Y/N looked at the clock, she had a little under twelve hours. How could she do this alone-

Her friend's voice crackled through the phone, "I think I have some people who can help.."

.`~> <~`.

It had plagued Y/N's mind until three o'clock. Since she put the phone down she hadn't wasted a second, not even to really breathe. All of the recipes had been pinned to the cork board on the wall, sticky notes littered the pages with quantities of each treat needed. Numbers changed as orders came roaring in each one making the situation feel even more unfathomable, specially orders for the preschool, church and hockey team all piled in. Around that time three young men stepped into the shop, shrugging snow off of their jackets as the small bell chimed letting Y/N know of their arrival.

"Hi! I am so sorry.. but we are closed currently." Y/N looked at the three, dusting her flour covered hands onto the already messy front of her apron. She locked eyes with the what appeared to be the oldest, beautiful chocolate eyes and perfect dimples.

The tallest of the three, who was stood slightly behind the others shyly spoke, "Our cousin sent us.. she said she was the assistant."

Recognition crossed Y/N's face, these were the cousins that her friend went to visit. Quite frankly, the first thought across the young bakers mind was how on earth do you win the genetic lottery.. all of them did.

It was outrageous.

"She sent you to help?" Y/N asked skeptically, without causing major offense, "You don't seem the type.. if that makes sense."

Dimples stepped forward, "I can understand why it looks that way but we owe our cousin a favour and she said that you would need all the help you could get."

"Well she certainly is correct in that statement." Y/N sighed, looking down to where her phone was practically buzzing off the desk with orders.

The three men glanced around the bakery, taking in the flurry of activity and the clear signs of Y/N’s exhaustion. Flour dusted every surface, and the warm scent of sugar and spice lingered in the air despite the chaos.

"I'm Quinn.. these are my brothers Jack and Luke." Y/N now vaguely recognized the three from photos she had seen in her friends house. After a quick introduction, the three boys stepped forward further into the bakery. “We’re quick learners, and we’re here for as long as you need. Just tell us what to do.”

The tallest of the group, who Y/N now knew as Luke, nodded. “I’ve worked in a kitchen before. Nothing big, but I can handle a mixer or wash dishes if you need it. I've helped with team dinners."

Team Dinners? Maybe he plays collegiate?

The third, who’d been quietly assessing the situation with sharp blue eyes, gave a small smile. “I’m Jack. I’ll definitely be the most useful."

"My gut is telling me there isn't an ounce of truth in that statement." Y/N smiled back at the blue eyed boy, a cheeky smile adorning his lips.

Y/N stared at them for a moment, her initial skepticism softening. She didn’t have much choice, and at this point, she’d take any help she could get. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” She gestured toward the corkboard, laden with recipes and sticky notes. “Here’s the game plan. We’ve got to tackle these orders first. Then, we need to prepare for the festival tomorrow morning. Can you handle a crash course in Christmas baking?”

Jack grinned. “Lead the way, boss.”

Y/N turned around and gave him a look that very clearly said, don't start.

.`~> <~`.

For the next few hours, the bakery became a whirlwind of activity. Y/N quickly discovered that Luke had a knack for organization, swiftly sorting ingredients and keeping the workspace tidy. Quinn had steady hands perfect for decorating intricate cookies, and Jack's charm proved invaluable when a few last-minute customers knocked on the locked door, pleading for small orders.

“Alright,” Y/N called out, her voice cutting through the hum of the mixer and the clatter of trays. “How’s the gingerbread station coming along?”

“Almost done,” Luke replied, carefully sliding a tray of perfectly shaped gingerbread men into the oven. “You weren’t kidding about these being popular.”

Quinn, hunched over a tray of cooled cookies, piped delicate snowflake patterns with surprising precision. “Do we have enough frosting? I’m flying through it over here.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light for the first time all night. “You’re doing great. I’ll whip up another batch.”

Jack emerged from the front of the shop, his hands full of empty coffee cups. “I made a deal with the diner across the street. They’ll keep us supplied with coffee if we give them a tray of those chocolate crinkle cookies.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’re bartering baked goods now?”

“Gotta keep the team caffeinated,” he said with a wink.

"You mean yourself." Quinn glared, "Since when do you do something that doesn't aid you."

Y/N snorted, nose tipped down into her coffee mug as the steam rose around her face. Her eyes danced with humour when she looked back up at Jack who look utterly displeased.

By the time dawn broke, the bakery had transformed. Rows of festive treats filled the display cases, from meticulously decorated sugar cookies to golden loaves of spiced bread. The air buzzed with the scent of cinnamon and peppermint, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—and relief.

The three men, now dusted in flour and clearly exhausted, leaned against the counter, surveying their work.

“Not bad for a bunch of amateurs,” Y/N said, offering a tired smile.

Jack crossed his arms, dimples flashing. “Does this mean we pass the crash course?”

“You’ve earned extra credit,” she replied, "Only cause you got coffee though."

The festival that day was a resounding success. Holy & Hearth became the heart of the celebration, its booth drawing a steady stream of delighted townsfolk. Children’s eyes widened at the sight of glittering cookies, and parents murmured their appreciation for the bakery’s dedication to tradition.

Y/N stood behind the counter, handing out treats with a genuine smile. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see the trio of cousins. Jack held a cup of hot cocoa, Luke carried a plate of leftover cookies, and Quinn's grin was as warm as ever.

“Thought you might need a break,” Jack said, holding out the cocoa.

Y/N accepted it gratefully. “I couldn’t have done this without you guys.”

“We couldn’t let you face it alone,” Luke said, his voice sincere.

As the town square lit up with the glow of the Christmas tree, Y/N felt a deep sense of gratitude. The festival wasn’t just a continuation of her family’s tradition—it was a reminder of the magic of community and the unexpected ways people could come together.

And as Quinn's dimpled smile lingered in her mind, she realized this Christmas might bring more than just sweet memories.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Concrete Impressions

Quinn x Reader!oc

Word Count: 1.3

Authorial Note: I hope you like it! This is basically the precursor fic to Cradle Me! I am making this an au, this is a little bit on how Quinn and Cookie meet! I will be making a part two to this fic!

TW: Not edited, swearing.

The day Quinn encountered you was the day he knew there was no one else for him. It was a warm autumn day on campus, though there was a significant breezing blowing with a spiteful chill. Your brown hair was tucked away in a neat plait down your back, a brown wide- ribbed sweater overlapping your dark patterned jeans which were rolled up over the top of your sneakers. You were waiting at the coffee cart, behind half-a-dozen people in line for their daily sustenance as well. Quinn watched from a table where he was placed, surrounded by a large group of his friends... well of some them were, other acquaintances, such as the sophomore girl who was trying desperately to giggle her way under his skin formed the majority of the numbers in the group. As you inched closer to the little counter at the front of the cart a blonde man, clearly impatient bumped into you. Quinn watched with wide eyes as you toppled over, books in hand spilling onto the dirty brick footpath.

Quinn had watched the young man who, essentially bumped you from your place in the line, stepped up to the vendor and ordered his drink. It troubled Quinn deeply that this young man had little to no regard for what he had done, or who he had done it too. At this point in time you didn't even know Quinn existed, or that he had singlehandedly decided that he need to know you, know if you could be the one. Because as he watched you part your hair from you face, tucking the unruly strands behind your ears as you pulled yourself and your books up from the ground, brushing the debris off your knees, Quinn knew that he needed to be the prince in your fairytale.

"Quinny! Where are you going!" the blonde girl, previously wrapping herself around his arm, nuzzling into his shoulder whined. This drew some attention from other members of the group, the watched as Quinn peeled the girl from his arm and quickly half walked, half jogged to where you were still trying to fix yourself up.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Quinn crouched down next to you, when you looked up at him, wide caramel eyes and a charismatic smile on your face he swear he almost melted.

"Oh! Yeah.. yes." you puffed out with a small laugh, "Just a bit of a topsy terby morning!"

Quinn was amazed at your optimism, it seemed like you were going to let the little situation upset the rest of your day. "Could I buy you a coffee?"

"Oh! You do not have to do that, I was purely just trying to get a small caffeine hit before my next class." you spoke, slinging your bag onto your shoulder, "Maybe even one of their amazing double fudge brownie cookies."

Quinn's lips tipped up in a small smile, "Don't ya think all of that chocolate is a-"

"Bit sweet?" you cut him off and Quinn nodded, letting out a breathy laugh, "I know. I love it though, especially when they heat it so the inside is all gooey!"

"I take it you like sweet things?" Quinn asked.

"You could say that!" you giggled back at him in response, stepping forward in line to the front, Quinn following beside you as you turned to the barista who was holding a cup and nico pen ready to take your order. "Could I please have.. a dirty chai on almond? Would you like anything?"

Quinn was surprised when she turned and asked if he wanted something, he stumbled out, “I’ll have a flat white.. two shots, two sugars please.”

Quinn smiles to himself airily, ‘she’s as gracious she is courteous.’ After shaking off his daze he spoke, “Didn’t you also want one of those… death by chocolate cookies?”

“Oh yes! Could I please have one of your double chocolate brownie cookies?” you asked, “Could you heat it up too please?”

The barista nodded and turned away to make your coffees and to retrieve the fabled cookie. Standing there Quinn realised he didn’t actually know your name, nor what you were studying. Just that you liked cookies and had a killer sweet tooth.

“So Cookie, do you have a name or am I gonna have to call ya that?” Quinn stated, breaking the ice.

“My name is Y/N, but you can call me Cookie if you would like stranger.” Y/N smiled back, eyes gleaming with humour.

“My name is Quinn.” He corrected. “You mentioned having class soon? Can I ask what you have?”

“Well Quinn.. I have modern history next.” You spoke, quietly thanking the barista as she passed over the two coffees and the box holding chocolate lava-y goodness. Together the both of you gravitated away from the cart, moving back in the direction of where Quinn was originally sitting. The group still crowding the tables.

“With Professor Ryan?” Quinn questioned hopefully, he had modern history next as well, was this his lucky day?

“Yeah! In the Carsledine building!” You took a sip of the steaming beverage in your hand, the other still holding the cookie box to your chest.

”I have MH too! Would you want to sit together in his lecture?” Quinn leaned over and grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder, exchanging a Quick handshake with a mate of his.

“Sure! I don’t normally sit with anyone but.. I guess things can change.” Y/N smiled, walking alongside with Quinn through the campus courtyard, taking note of the amount of female attention he received.

Quinn let Cookie slide in the door before he did, holding it open for her as she stepped into the expansive lecture hall. He followed her small frame as she nimbly weaved her way through the rows of fold up chairs. Cookie approached the the left side of the lecture hall, the wall was interrupted by a humongous window, offering an extensive view over the rest of the campus. Rain clouds hung low today, dew covered the bare branches of the deciduous trees. Quinn sat down next to her, he admired her gorgeous face as she pulled her iPad out of her bag. Quinn noted the way she meticulously set up her note taking page with her screen pen, placing in all the text boxes and writing headings out. She pulled a keyboard attachment out of her bag, navy coloured too. Being around you Quinn's gaze sharpened and his body longed to know every detail he could, like the fact that navy appeared to be a favoured colour. The glasses that you had delicately slid onto the bridge of your nose were a deep shade of navy blue with gold arms. The scrunchie you were tucking your long shimmering hair into a ponytail with. Your phone case, iPad case and keyboard as well as the colour of the ink she wrote onto the digital page with were all the same blue.

"Do you like sports?" Quinn had one channel of small talk he could always revert back too, and he was damned sure he was going to use it.

"I don't mind sports!" Cookie replied, looking up from the screen she was writing on, "I like skiing, cross country specifically none of that moguls business. I also run too, cross country as well!"

"Are you on the track and field team?" he asked, curious.

"I am! I captain the track team!" Cookie looked over at Quinn again, waving silently to the professor who had walked in. "What about you?"

"I play Ice Hockey." Quinn spoke, he wished to play his cards right. If he did so, maybe he could get her to a game. "I'm projected to draft in the first round of the NHL entry. I fly out to Dallas with my family in about a month and a half for it."

Cookie smiled, a little bewildered, "That is seriously awesome! Congratulations!"

For the first time Quinn didn't get that rolling feeling in his gut after telling someone where he was projected to go. Y/N took it with so much grace, she didn't pester him about it, she didn't instantly try to suck up and seduce him. She just accepted it. Congratulated him and seemed like she genuinely cared.

Holy fuck. Is this what being in love feels like?

[puckingeccedentesiast]

I don’t normally read Matt Rempe but this came up on my dash and I NEED a second part girl! Your are so talented! 🫶🏼 Are you planning on writing one?

matt rempe with angst prompt “they’re lying to you” maybe she’s hughes sister and the boys don’t like her with a ranger player

Loving the Enemy - Matt Rempe

hockey masterlist || g's graduation celebration

synopsis: What was supposed to be an amazing night supporting her boyfriend's first NHL game, turns into a fight amongst siblings which leads to a broken heart. or in which Y/N Hughes is in love with the enemy.

word count: 4.5k

warnings: hockey inaccuracies, language, fighting, mentions of smut, break ups, angst

Being a Hughes sibling wasn’t easy. Being the only girl Hughes sibling was even harder. It wasn’t necessarily that you were a surprise, but your parents didn’t think that they would have a little girl after having three boys in a row. But you were their prized possession, and they would never say it out loud, but you were the favorite child. 

You were close with all your brothers, being the youngest, they had been absolutely enthralled with you when you were born. Quinn had always been more than delighted to be an older sibling, and having a little sister was like getting ice cream before dinner. Jack was a bit indifferent towards you until you were about thirteen and he had accidentally body checked you during a scrimmage. He instantly expected tears, like had happened anytime he accidentally (or purposely) bodychecked you, but instead, you hopped back up and delivered a high stick to him about five minutes later. 

But out of the three Hughes brothers, it was Luke, who you were the closest with. Only 18 months apart, some people believed that you two were twins. Not only did you both get the curly hair, but you both got the height gene that somehow missed Quinn and Jack. The two of you were also the quiet ones of the family, choosing to stick together and out of the spotlight. Luke was the first one you told that you didn’t like hockey, and you were the first one who Luke told he wasn’t going to go to the draft right away. But it wasn’t just the verbal communication that you two had, it was the silent glances and head nods that were understood from across the room. 

And it was because of that bond, that Luke knew there was something you were hiding. He wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something off about you. He could hear you late at night talking and giggling with someone over the phone. You had been coming home late at night, using some excuse that you had been out with a friend or studying at a cafe. He even noticed that you were wearing a shirt he had never known you owned the other day. And right now, he knew that you were hiding away in your bedroom, which was uncharacteristically off for you. Usually you loved sitting on the beanbag, making fun of him, Jack, and Nico for playing NHL. 

“Why is he here?” You whispered, peeking through the crack in your door, which gave you the perfect view of the living room, “I thought they were going to his place. Why are they here!?” 

A low chuckle sounded out from behind you, making you turn your head towards the tall, muscular, still half naked man on your bed, “And this is funny to you? You realize if they see you here, you’re dead.” 

“You don’t think I can’t fight them? Jack is what. . . five nine?”

You rolled your eyes, closing your door softly and walking back to your bed, flopping down next to him, “Five eleven and he’ll get out the measuring tape if you even doubt it.” 

He instantly pulled your body into his, making you rest your hand on his peck, “So, you’re telling me you’ve never had a boy in your room before?” A shit eating grin arose on his cheeks, making heat flood yours, “Are you saying that I took your precious-” 

“Oh shut up, Rempe,” You shook your head with a giggle, “It’s not cause you’re a boy, it’s because you’re a fucking Ranger.” 

It wasn’t like you meant for it to happen. 

You were sworn enemies. Well, supposed to be sworn enemies. The rivalry between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers went farther back than you had been alive. The “cross river rivals”, just 10 miles away from each other. Though you hadn’t been a Devils fan until your brother Jack got drafted in 2019, and even then, you still kept somewhat mutual in your cheering for them. But when Luke got drafted three years later, you had sworn your allegiance to the team (even though you swore you would still put on a blue Canucks jersey to support Quinn. . . and even he knew that would only happen when the Canucks weren’t playing the Devils). 

You met Matt by accident. You had been leaving a coffee shop late after working on a research paper. Jack and Luke had told you over and over again to never go out walking in Jersey City alone at night by yourself. But you had never feared being out by yourself. There were plenty of times at UMich where you would leave the library by yourself and walk across campus to your dorm alone. Never had you felt terrified or in danger. But for some reason that night, you felt a shadow looming over your shoulder. 

You had just gathered your things, ready to step out the door and head for the subway, when a voice in your head told you not to go. Your eyes had darted around the shop, looking for someone who you could sit with or strike up a conversation long enough for you to text one of your brothers to come get you. The shop was basically vacant, and the barista behind the counter looked like she was waiting for you to leave so she could lock up. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your backpack, placing your keys in between your fingers just in case. You had barely opened the door when someone placed their hand on your elbow. 

“Daphne? Oh my god, I thought it was you! How the hell have you been?” The man said to you. You could see it in his eyes he was begging for you to go along with it and there was something about him, that you knew you could trust him. 

“Kyle! Holy shit, where have you been!? It’s been what. . . four years?!” You said, overly excited. The barista from behind the counter cleared her throat, her eyes fleeting towards the clock behind her, “I was just about to hit up another spot, do you want to come with?” 

“I would love to, we have some catching up to do.” 

You felt a sigh of relief as you walked out of the coffee shop, the looming darkness fading away the further away you got, “Thank you for. . . that,” You muttered to him. 

“No problem,” He said back, “I’m Matt, by the way.” 

“Y/N,” You looked up at him, “I uh. . . I think I’m going to call an uber now or-” 

“I can take you. . . home. . .” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, “God, I just saved you from one creep now you probably think I’m a fucking creep but I promise I just want to make sure you get home safe and I-” 

“It’s okay,” You giggled, cutting off his rambling, “I would like a ride home, if that’s not too much of a struggle. I trust you. . . even if I just met you.” 

You thought he was good looking before, but the smile that arose on his face amplified that by a thousand. His brown eyes were soft as he held his large calloused and slightly bruised hand out towards you, which you took without second thought. The two of you walked down the street towards a black BMW. You slid your backpack off your shoulder, and he gently took it from your hand, opening the door with his other. He jogged around the back of the car after tossing your backpack in the backseat. 

“Sorry if it smells like a gym in here, I usually hit up Blair’s after practice,” He explained, though there was no smell at all, probably due to the air fresheners he had hanging around his rearview mirror. 

“Smells like winter apple,” You said, reading the label, “What sport do you play?” 

Matt placed his hand on the back of your seat as he backed out of the parking space, and you hated how attractive that was, “Hockey.” A cough spluttered out of your lips as you choked on your own spit at his revelation, “What? Not a hockey fan?” He asked with a nervous chuckle. 

“Who do you play for?” You asked, ignoring his question. 

“Hartford Wolf Pack, but I got signed with the Ranges-” 

“Oh god,” You groaned, holding your face in your hands, “Of course, I was standing in Rangers’ territory.” 

Matt’s brown eyes glanced over at you before looking back at the road in front of him, “Well, I’m sorry,” He shifted in his seat, “Are you like an Islanders fan or something?” 

“Even worse,” You mumbled, “My hot knight in shining armor, turns out to be a Ranger, just my luck.” You sighed, “My brothers play for the Devils.” 

“Wait,” Matt stepped on the brakes, “Brothers? Plural? Are you related to the Hugheses?” 

“Those would be the ones.” 

Matt shook his head, a laugh falling from his lips, “Wow, really fucked up here didn’t we?” You couldn’t help but smile, “Well, Miss Hughes,” Matt said as he pulled up in front of the high rise apartment building, “Is it crossing enemy lines if I ask for your number?” 

You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the blush arising on your cheeks, “It is. . . but I’ve never been one to swear allegiance to just one place.” 

That night was six months ago, but for you it felt like it was just yesterday. There was a certain thrill about sneaking around with Matt, meeting when your brothers were gone or his roommates were out. You hated the rap he had developed in the AHL. He wasn’t the bad boy goonish hockey player with the fiery temper. He was a sweet, gentle giant, who loved to be the little spoon and have his hair played with. He sent you flowers and money to go get food cause he knew you forget to eat when you are in intense study sessions. Matt had become your everything in such a short amount of time, that you hated keeping him and your relationship from your family. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to keep your relationship a secret on purpose, but you both decided it was going to be the best for both sides. Matt was starting his second season with Hartford and then moving up to play for the Rangers in the Stadium Series. For you, Luke was starting his rookie season, and you were doing everything you can to remain lowkey and out of trouble for his sake. Mentioning that you not only had a boyfriend, but that said boyfriend was Matt Rempe. . . the whole house would be flipped on its side. 

“I have something to tell you,” Matt muttered, grabbing your hand and playing with your fingers. You loved the way that one of Matt’s hands could encase both of yours. You looked up into his soft brown eyes, that you swear resembled those of a baby cow, “The Rangers called. . . they want me to play in the Stadium Series.” 

You gasped in shock, climbing on top of Matt’s lap and grabbing his face in your hands, “They want you to play!? Matt! This is amazing!” 

A smile crawled across his lips, “Thank you,” You watched as a shadow of doubt and unease filled his eyes, “I want you there.” 

“I’ll be there,” You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips, “I’ll be the loudest one there.” 

“Oh you better,” Matt said, one of his hands gliding up to rest on your ass, the other one tangling in your hair, “You know I love you, right.” 

“I love you too,” You smiled. Those three words would never fail to put a smile on your face. 

“Good,” Matt smirked, “Cause right now, I need you to be very, very quiet.” 

— — — 

You didn’t really think it through when you told Matt that you would be there for the Stadium Series game. Not only did you have to sneak past your brothers to take the train to MetLife, you had to also sneak past your parents. Being the youngest of three boys, your parents had perfected the craft of knowing when one of their kids was hiding something. 

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Luke asked, standing in the doorway of your room. 

“Positive,” You did your best trying to pretend you were sick, “My body just aches and my head hurts. I think I’m getting sick.” You hated lying to your brother. You hated lying to any of your brothers, but especially Luke. 

Luke frowned, “I hate that you’re missing this dinner.” Nico had decided to host a dinner for all the parents, friends and family that came into town to watch them play in yesterday’s stadium game. You also hated that you were missing spending time with your family, but it's Matt’s first game. You weren’t going to miss that for the world. 

“Can you bring me back some fries?” You asked meekly. 

“Of course, ducky,” Luke nodded, using the childhood nickname he gave you, “Text me if you need anything.” 

You waited until the front door closed, before climbing out of bed and getting dressed. You threw on a pair of black jeans and a white Rangers sweatshirt. You finished the outfit with a hat and your coat, hoping to conceal your identity amongst the crowd. The train ride to MetLife was short, and you followed the crowd into the stadium. Matt had done good with getting you a ticket, sitting you a few rows behind the Rangers bench. You had gotten there in time to see them warming up, Matt’s large frame skating around the ice with ease. 

It was as if he could sense that you were there, his brown eyes searching the stands until he found you. He sent you a small wave, which made your heart flutter as you returned the gesture. He looked extremely good in his white Rangers jersey and the eye black on his cheeks. You knew how important this game was to him, not only was it his first game, but it also fell on the anniversary of his dad’s death. You knew that all he wanted in the world was for his dad to see him play the sport they both loved. 

Within minutes of the puck dropping, the Rangers took control. You felt the familiar anxiety that you would get when watching your brothers take the ice, when Matt got off the bench. You clenched your fists tightly as the Rangers moved down the ice, skating flawlessly and making a goal. You stood up and cheered with the crowd as the goal horn went off, high fiving strangers and screaming in joy.

However the giddy feeling quickly went away, as you looked back towards the center, and saw your boyfriend in a fist fight. You knew he was a fighter at Hartford, and it wasn’t your favorite thing about his hockey game. He was a gifted player, with the height and reach other players would die for. You hated that the Wolfpack had set him up to be a goon within his first season there. 

You watched with bated breath as the refs let him and the Islanders player battle it out. Punches delivered from both players, until they finally came to a draw. You shook your head as Matt raised his arms, trying to get the crowd fired up as he skated towards the penalty box. His first NHL game and his first five minute penalty for fighting. 

As Matt sat down, taking the bag of ice from his trainer, he turned to scan the crowd, looking for you. He easily spotted you, standing out amongst the crowd as you gave him a look. 

“You okay?” You mouthed and Matt nodded, holding up his bruised hand. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Pay attention,” and pointed back to the game. Matt smirked, giving you a mock salute before turning back towards his team on the ice. 

When the game ended, in a Rangers victory, you left quickly. You wanted to stay and see Matt and hug him, but you knew that you would be cutting it close to when your brothers and parents would be back. You settled for sending him a text, and telling him you would come over as soon as you could to help celebrate with him. 

The apartment was dark when you arrived back, your siblings still out at the dinner with the team. You let out a sigh of relief, dashing back to your room and changing back into your pajamas. By the time you had settled down and turned on some cheesy romcom, the front door opened and the familiar sounds of your brothers and parents filtered into the apartment. 

“Ducky!” Luke shouted. 

“She’s probably sleeping, asshole,” Jack scolded him. 

“Don’t call your brother an asshole,” Your mom chided. 

“Ducky!” Luke called again, “I got you fries!” 

You giggled, pushing the covers back and going to greet your family. Their smiles were big and comforting as you sat down at the island, opening the to-go container of fries. Jack filled you in on everything you missed at dinner, your mother sitting behind you and playing with the ends of your hair like she used to do when you were younger. It felt like old times, the only person missing was Quinn. You knew he was doing great things out in Vancouver, but you missed having him around. The facetime calls weren’t enough. 

“So what did you do tonight, duck?” Your dad asked. 

“Oh uh,” You cleared your throat, “Just watched some movies and slept.” 

“You missed an exciting hockey game,” He said, “That Rempe kid is going to be a menace.” 

“Yeah,” You tried to hide the blush arising on your cheeks, “I’m gonna go back and lay down, still not feeling the best.” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Your mom squeezed your shoulder, “We’ll see you in the morning.” 

You nodded your head, “Yeah, maybe we can go to that bakery on the corner-” 

“What the fuck were you doing at MetLife?” Luke’s cut you off. You looked at him, your heart thundering in your chest. 

“I-I wasn’t at M-MetLife,” You cursed your nervous stutter. 

“Bullshit,” Luke cursed, putting his phone on the counter, and clear as day there was a picture of you, in your white Rangers sweatshirt, sitting behind the bench, “I thought you were sick.” 

Tears began to cloud your eyes as you looked at your parents and then your brothers, “I’m sorry.” 

“Why did you lie, Y/N?” Your mom asked. And suddenly you felt like you were a child all over again, being scolded by your parents. You hated getting in trouble, you hated looking at your parents and seeing disappointment in their eyes. The only time you ever really cried was when you were in trouble. 

“I. . .” You huffed, “I went to watch Matt play in his first NHL game.” 

“Matt?” Luke asked, “. . . Matt fucking Rempe?” You nodded your head. You felt your mom shift behind you, her stance going into protective mode, “Why the fuck would you go watch Matt fucking Rempe play-” 

“Language, Luke,” Your mom spoke. 

“Because we are dating.” 

Silence spread across the kitchen for a moment, before laughter sounded out. A cruel sounding laughter as you looked at Luke. It was the fake sounding, teasing laughter that made you feel like a child. 

“No you’re not,” Luke shook his head, “There’s no way.” 

“Why?” You asked softly, “We’ve been together for six months.” 

“No,” Luke chuckled again, “You aren’t dating him. You are not dating a hockey player, let alone one that has more penalty minutes than time on the ice. You aren’t dating him, you might be fucking him-” 

“Luke!” 

“But you aren’t dating him.” 

You shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks, “He loves me.” 

“Yeah and when did he say that? Before or after you fucked-” 

“Enough!” Your mom stood up, her hands on the counter, “Y/N, you shouldn’t have lied to us about going to the game. If you wanted to go to support Matt, that’s all you needed to say,” You nodded, looking down at the counter, “Luke, you do not get to say those things about your sister and her relationship. You do not get to say those things about any woman for that matter. Now, apologize.” 

You looked up at your brother, expecting to see remorse in his eyes, but all you saw was anger. Luke looked at you, before grabbing his phone and going to his room. You closed your eyes, feeling regret and guilt rising in your body. You mom put her hand on your shoulder, as a small sob left your lips. 

— — — 

It had been two weeks since your fight with Luke. Your parents had flown back to Michigan, leaving Jack to play the mediator between the two of you. Your mom had not so secretly texted Quinn to tell him what happened. He had called you the night after they left, which led to another tearful confession about your relationship with Matt. Quinn, being the big brother that he is, said he was upset that you felt like you couldn’t tell him about your relationship, but was nonetheless happy for you as long as you were happy. 

But you weren’t sure if you were happy. Luke had refused to talk to you, or even be near you. If you entered the same room he was in, he would leave. He wouldn’t fix you a plate of food like he usually did, or tell you when he was leaving for the arena for a home game. He wouldn’t even respond in the groupchat when you would ask him a question directly. 

But your strained relationship with Luke wasn’t the only relationship on the rocks. You hadn’t talked to Matt since the night of the stadium series. He had sent you countless text messages and left voicemails. He even went as far as sending flowers daily to the apartment, which Luke would toss out if you weren’t quick enough to grab them.

You were laying in your bed, half watching an episode of Bridgerton, like you had been for the past two weeks. Normally, you would be out in the living room with your brothers, but your bedroom felt like the only safe space in the entire apartment. You could hear the occasional shout or jest from your brothers as they were playing some video game on their night off. Beside you, on your bedside table, your phone buzzed for probably the tenth time this evening, another missed call from the same person. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing. You knew it was hurtful to string Matt along like this, but you also didn’t have the heart to break up with him. These past two weeks had felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest, and to even think about living a life without him in it hurt too much. 

You let out a slow breath as you closed your eyes, listening as the buzzing of your phone finally stopped. However, the loud sound of knocking pulled you from your moment of peace. 

“Did you order something?” Jack’s muffled voice sounded out. 

“No,” Luke said back. There was shuffling as the front door opened and the knocking ceased, “Oh you’re fucking kidding me. Why the hell are you here?” 

“Where’s Y/N?” Your heart sped up at the sound of the all too familiar voice. You quickly jumped up from your bed, opening your door and running to the living room. There in all his tall glory, stood the man you loved, “Y/N.” 

It felt like the air had been drawn back into your lungs as you looked at him, “Matt.” 

“I uh. . .I just needed to see that you were okay. You haven’t been answering my calls or my texts,” Matt scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking at you and then your two brothers, “I’m gonna go now.” 

“Wait,” You said, taking a step forward, “Can I talk to you?” Matt nodded his head, looking like a lost puppy dog. You looked at your two brothers, “Can I talk to him alone?” 

“Yeah, c’mon Moose, we got game film to look at,” Jack said. Luke looked Matt up and down once, before letting him into the apartment and following his older brother down the hall towards the office room. 

You silently walked over to the couch, Matt following behind you. The two of you sat there in silence for a moment, before you broke the ice. 

“Do you love me?” 

Matt’s head snapped towards you, as your eyes looked straight ahead at the tv, “What?” 

“Do you love me?” You looked over at him, “Do you mean it when you say-” 

“Yes,” Matt answered quickly, “Yes, I do love you. I mean it every single time I say it. Why are you asking me this?” 

You shook your head, “Luke said something and I-” 

“He’s lying to you,” Matt moved from the couch to kneel down in front of you. He took your hands in his, “I love you, Y/N Hughes. I know we’ve only been together for six months but it’s been the happiest six months of my life. Not even hockey fills me with the joy as being with you does. So yes, I love you. I love you so fucking much.” 

You sniffled, tears falling from your eyes. Matt quickly wiped his thumb over your cheekbone, “I’m sorry. I. . . It all fell apart so quickly. Luke found out I lied and went to the game, and then he got so mad. I didn’t want to have to choose between-” 

“No, you shouldn’t have to choose,” Matt said, tears brimming his own eyes. He was silent for a moment, warring thoughts in his head as he thought of what to say, “It would absolutely break me to pieces, but I won’t be the reason why you and your siblings don’t talk anymore. I. . . I can’t do that to you.” 

“Are you breaking up with me?” You gasped. 

“I don’t want you and Luke to not talk to each other because of me.” 

“No,” You shook your head, “It will be okay, I promise. He’ll get over it.” 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Matt said, tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “I know your family means everything to you, and I can’t stand to be the one who ruins that. I’m so, so sorry,” Matt leaned forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll always love you. No matter what. You are it for me.” You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his warmth, “Goodbye Y/N.” 

You sat there, unmoving as Matt stood up and walked towards the door. Your eyes fluttered open at the sounds of your brothers' footsteps, moving towards you.

“Are you happy?” You sneered at Luke, “He broke up with me.” 

“Ducky-” Luke sighed. 

“No,” You stood up shaking your head, “The love of my life just walked out the door because he knows that I care too much about you and your opinion. So Luke, are you happy?”

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Imagine

Jack and yourself sat nestled on the soft sand, a dry wind cut through the air, a shared blanket broke the chill. The quiet gentle waves rippled off the lake, the gentle melodical crash of water was your only company, a soothing rhythm matching the quiet comfort between you. Endlessly the canopy of stars stretched above you, twinkling like scattered diamonds.

"Do you reckon there is another version of us out there, Jacky?" You asked, Jack glanced over and watched the stars glisten in your eyes.

Jack's soft chuckle reverberated against your side, his warm breath fogging out into the cold night. "You mean.. in another galaxy or something?"

"Yeah," you replied, turning your head to face him, smiling softly as Jack's hand reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Maybe they are mirroring us, sitting on some alien beach and wondering if we exist."

Jack smiled and leaned in to kiss your reddening nose, "Even if they are, my alternate version would never be as lucky as I am."

You swatted at his chest, giving him a slight shove, "That's so cheesy!"

"Cheesy but true," he said, pulling her closer to him, rearranging the blanket to sit better on her shoulders.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemingly faded away, leaving only them in each others company cradled by the surrounding sky. Jack shifted slightly, not rousing you as he reached into his back pocket, hesitating for a second, his heart jumping in his chest. He pulled out a small velvet box.

When you caught sight of the simple yet elegant oval shaped ring that sparkled in the starlight, tears caressed your lash line.

"I was going to wait but I have carried this with me waiting for the right moment for weeks now and.. this feels perfect." Jack paused, arranging himself on his knee. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

You strared at him, heart pounding. "Jack.. Yes! Of course, yes!"

You could hear distant cheering as you see Jack's brothers standing with cameras on the bank of the beach, you smiled and waved as Jack slid the ring onto your finger and you grinned from ear to ear.

This was your universes happy ending.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

"i just left like five minutes ago." "yeah, but i miss you already."

this is so jack. like leaving his apartment and he’s so pouty until you come back.

Since the beginning of your relationship with Jack, Friday nights had always been a staple. These consisted of popcorn and sweets, a theme appropriate movie and a snuggle session between the two of you. Moreover, when Luke's girlfriend came into the picture it left more free space in the apartment for the both of you to relax and spend the evening's in each others company.

After a halloween spooky night film that possessed more than a few handfuls of jumpscares and moments that caused Jack to squeezing the life out of your hand, you were making the short twenty-five minute journey back to your apartment. Your phone screen lit up with Jack's icon, you answered it on the car's intercom, Jack's voice crackled through.

"Hi Sweetheart.."

"Hey Jacky, what's happening? you replied, the thought then crossed your mind, it wouldn't be the first time you had left something behind. "Did I leave something there again?"

"No.. no, I was just wondering if you could come back?" Jack spoke down the receiver, on his end of the phone he was pacing back and forth in the kitchen, it was no secret Jack didn't like scary movies but he especially didn't like not having you around post scary film.

"I just left like five minutes ago, baby?" the confusion was evident in your voice, as you made a U-turn, already knowing how this conversation was going to end up.

"I know.. but I miss you already." Jack's softed, tired voice pulled at your heart strings.

"Alright honey, I am coming now."

[puckingeccedentesiast]

begging for quinn hughes and “How did you end up like this?” 😵‍💫

Quinn considered himself a tool-body. He was smart and good enough with his hands to fix little problems around both yours and his own respective apartments. A flat battery in a smoke detector, sorted. A leaky window sill, plugged up with silicone before anything could sneak in.

However, on a quaint, sunny Saturday afternoon Quinn went in a little too far over his head when it was decided he would tackle a small plumbing issue. A leaky faucet, which had been dripping in his kitchen.

Quinn very quickly recognised that he was in far over his head, or in this case his ankles as water flowed, ankle-deep around him. The faucet now turned waterfall was doing little but gushing into the overflowing sink and flooding Quinn’s kitchen. Sodden towels, buckets and makeshift damns were easily over run.

His situation was just plain comedy, a broken wrench in his hand, pipes floating around the kitchen in the miniature swimming pool and water leaking from places it definitely wasn’t meant to be leaking from.

The kitchen, now turned watery battle zone had pots and pans strewn around to stop the flooding, the YouTube video Quinn had been watching in which a few steps were absolutely missed.

When you swung open the door, seeing Quinn standing there like a dear in headlights you couldn’t help but let out a light scoff and smirk.

“Quinn, how did you end up like this?” You asked with mock seriousness, this situation was secretly highly amusing you.

Trying to play it cool Quinn looked back at you, absentmindedly flicking his wrist with the spanner in it, "Okay, so, I watched this video—twice, mind you—and I thought I had it under control. But apparently, there's, like, a valve... or maybe a nut? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I turned the wrong one, and—well—everything sort of... exploded?"

You stood there and couldn’t help burst into a fit of giggles as you very clearly remember Quinn stating, “No! Don’t call a plumber, I can handle this!” Reaching for your phone you capture some pictures for future blackmail you asked, “Need me to call that plumber now?”

Thank you for requesting my lovely Ivy! It made my day and I hope this lives up to your standards!

[puckingeccedentesiast]

I swear, they’re adorable 🥹.

NHL 25 Cover Shoot | MIC'D UP

[puckingeccedentesiast]

| 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.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Sick Days

Authorial Note: This is stupidly short but I wanted to get something out while I work on longer fics.

Your end of off season plans with Jack did not consist of spending the week in bed, wrapped in a new blanket most days as Jack had clearly made it his personal mission to buy every blanket in your local supermarket. You had to admit, it was cute and made you feel cherished.

After finishing what felt like your four-hundredth bowl of either, chicken broth, chicken noodle soup, beeth broth or Luke's special nachos you placed the bowl down on the side table. Albeit a little hard but in your sick-hazed state it didn't matter. When you came down with a fever about two hours after arriving at your own apartment in New Jersey after spending time with Jack and his family in Michigan you called Jack instantly to call off the date you two had after arriving home.

This ended in Jack driving to your building, picking up your sniffling, drowsy, pajama and blanket swaddled form. With extreme protest from you being mumbled as not to aggravate his shoulder.

"Baby, training camp starts in 2 weeks, I have been cleared for that it's okay!" Jack explained, hoisting you up into his arms. "You should have enough stuff at my place right? I'll send Luke over if you don't."

"Jacky, you do realise you are borderline kidnapping me?" you groaned out, feeling your stomach roll and he moved around, planting a hand on his hand to get him to stop.

"I am not!" he cried out incredulous, huffing and looking down at you. Continuously flicking his hair out of his face when gravity took over, "I'm just taking you.. without asking. Instead politely demanding that you come with me so I can take care of you."

"Well I am politely asking you put me down so I don't hurl first." you murmured, eyes squinted shut at the dizing brightness of the light.

That was the start of a very interesting week.

[puckingeccedentesiast]

Queen!! Congratulations on 300!! 🫂 can I request this prompt with jack 🫶

"You can't just connect your phone and change the music, just because you dislike my playlist."

A graduation road trip spent with your boyfriend and younger brother sounded like a great idea at the time. Ten hours in the car was palatable, it also meant that you would have more cars at the lake house so you and Jack could spend more time together. The plan was to leave from Jack and Luke's apartment at roughly nine o'clock on the Monday after all of your graduation celebrations calmed down. When you arrived at the Hughes' residence it was a complete shambles. Piles of washing and clothes were strewn all over the place and something smelt like it had died.

"Hello?!" Your voice echoed throughout the loud apartment, as soon as it did, silence occured. The sink turned off, the vacuum stopped and the air seemed to still as two head popped into the hallway to look at you. "What's going on boys? You know we need to be leaving in roughly half an hour?"

"That was half an hour away.." Jack spoke back, coming into the hallway with a tea towel thrown over his shoulder, "What are you doing here so early?"

"Jack we are suppose to leave in fifteen minutes, how is that early?" You spoke, walking into the rest of the house, stepping over a half full suit case and sighing deeply. "Would you boys like some help, what is even this chaos?"

"It all makes sense! This is our washed pile, this is the stuff we need to take home to wash and this is our pile of things that need to be packed." Luke explained, his pointing corresponding to the piles he talked about.

"Right, and I suppose you are cleaning before you leave?" It was an easy thing to assume due to the fact that Luke was currently holding the dyson vacuum you insisted they buy so that the apartment could stay somewhat clean in the midst of their chaos.

"Pretty much, yeah." Luke deadpanned.

"You two finish cleaning and I'll pack, yeah?" You stated, placing down your small luggage bag down against the wall so it was out of the way for Luke.

While Jack was busy in the kitchen and Luke ran the vacuum over most of the floor surfaces and skirting boards in the apartment you pulled the appropriate clothes from the piles previously made and folded them and placed them into the bags neatly. By the time you were done, there was three bags lined up next to the door and a spotless apartment.

-

Surprisingly, despite fickle efforts to undermine how annoying Luke was by Jack you weren’t believing him.

It was two hours into the road trip and Luke had slept the majority of it, it was only Jack and his albeit under-average playlist making the car seem lively.

After the second pit-stop at a gas station where you got snacks and had a bathroom break, you decided enough was enough. While Jack was still inside paying for the gas you connected the Bluetooth to your phone, revealing in the little beep as you turned on ‘That’s what I like’ by Bruno Mars.

Knowing his playlist back to front Jack was the height of confused when he arrived back at the car and hoisted himself into the drivers seat. Looking at your smirking face he could instantly deduce you were the culprit.

“Babe, what did you do to my musi-“ Jack started by was cut off by your next comment.

“I’m getting a headache from that horseshit Jack.” You stated, turning the music dial essentially tuning out of Jack’s huffed pouts.

"You can't just connect your phone and change the music, just because you dislike my playlist!”

“Too late Jacky.”

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