#quinn hughs x reader
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Hughes Your Daddy? - Jack Hughes
hahahaha finally
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If I get 10+ comments/asks ill make a part 2
Yes, that's me bribing you, I want more interactions
w.c: 3,007 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)
The last few weeks of college are the worst weeks of a student's life. There’s nothing but studying, finals, and pure hell. Yet, when Ellen Hughes calls and tells you to get on a flight to Vancouver to be present at the Hughes Bowl, you fucking get on a flight to Vancouver.
The flight itself is terrific; you study a bit of your flashcards, drink some hot cocoa, and even get in a solid half-hour nap. You honestly feel a little sad when the intercoms go off, and they announce your descent into Canada.
The sadness washes away quickly when you clear the clouds and realize how excited you are. This trip, tomorrow’s game, is a very, very special event. Each Hughes brother will be playing on the ice tomorrow night, and you’ll be sitting, as requested, in the Hughes box overlooking it all.
As soon as the 737 touches down, you’re quick to switch your phone off airplane mode. You appreciated the few hours of bliss without endless notifications, but life has to go on. As soon as the iPhone gets service, a flood of messages rolls through. One from Ellen, to which you respond. Two from Quinn, which you answer. And 36 messages from Jack, which you ignore.
You should respond, and you will, but first, you have to get off the plane and find your favorite chauffeur.
Without further delay, you exit the plane, grabbing your carry-on and swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You smile at the few flight attendants on the way out and throw an extra thank you to the woman who gave you some extra cookies when she saw your flashcards.
The Vancouver airport is bustling, and you can’t help but feel the positive vibes radiating from the space. The entire airport is decorated for Christmas, and you’re reminded why it’s ranked one of the best airports in North America.
You make your way to the baggage claim, checking your phone to ensure you’re heading toward the right spot. You are, and while you’re walking, you pass all the cute little shops. You see a couple of little knickknacks, and you make a mental note to pick up something on your flight back. Now, however, you must focus.
The baggage claim area is pretty full, and you’re dodging people left and right. You’re unsure in the sea of people where Quinn might be hiding until you hear your name shouted from somewhere to your left. You turn your body, and there he is, waving a bit and standing with a small smile.
“Oh my god, is that Quinn Hughes?” You say in mock shock as you get within his earshot. “The newest captain of the Canucks and Vancouver's most precious gem?”
He rolls his eyes back as far as he can when you approach, but nonetheless, he pulls you in for a hug.
“Please stop.” He groans out as your part and takes your carry-on from you.
“Never.” You smile as he leads you out of the airport.
It takes mere minutes to get to the car, and you both catch up about whatever. It’s been months since you’ve seen Quinn, and whenever you’re with him, you’re reminded why he might be your favorite besides Ellen and Jim, of course.
As soon as you are settled into the passenger of Quinn’s car, he reaches back behind him and pulls out a small gift bag.
“Here, before I forget.”
You give him a questioning look, and he just gives you a slight smirk.
“Just open it. It’s more of a gift to everyone else.”
You squint your eyes a bit suspiciously but pull the tissue paper from the bag. As soon as you do, you see the familiar blue and white colors, and a laugh burst from your lips.
“Oh my god.” You shriek out, laughing, pulling the Canucks jersey from the bag.
You both immediately start laughing, and you can hardly contain yourself.
“Of course, you don’t have to wear it for the game.” Quinn says. “but he’s gonna flip if he sees you wearing it when they get here.”
You scan the Jersey and agree with the boy next to you. Your boyfriend is very possessive when it comes to jerseys, and he hates everything that isn’t red, black, or white and doesn’t have Hughes 86 plastered on the back.
“Oh, this is gold, Quinn.” You say, tucking the jersey back in as Quinn moves the car out of the lot.
“Ma and I thought so, too. She said it might humble him for the night.”
Speaking of humbling your boyfriend, you reach for your phone and go to text him back. You scan the many messages and roll your eyes at a few. Most of them are him just wanting attention, but the last one catches your eye.
we’re 2 hours behind ur flight. No fun or smiling before I get there
You read the text allowed to Quinn, who rolls his eyes at the statement, and you’re quick to shoot a response back, telling Jack that it’s too late and you’re having the best time ever.
————————-
As soon as you step through Quinn’s front door, you hear a happy yell, and Ellen is pulling you in for a long-awaited hug. You practically melt as she squishes you, and the happiest of laughs exits her.
“Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy this worked out.” She says to you, pulling back just enough to look at your smiling face.
You look behind her as Jim is standing nearby, waiting his turn. You give Ellen one less squeeze and then turn to the original Hughes and give him a big hug.
“Hey, kiddo,” He says. “Glad you’re here.”
As soon as you say your hellos, you move to get your stuff settled into your room. As quickly as you can, you throw your stuff down and pull on the New Jersey, making your way back out to the kitchen.
As soon as you enter, Jim laughs, and Ellen raises her hands to her mouth.
“Oh, Jack is gonna hate it.” She turns to Quinn and laughs, using him to steady her.
“Oh, we know.” You say, high-fiving Quinn as you grab a cup of some water.
As soon as you get your water, you all settle into the living room, and questions are flying left and right. You talk about school, work, and whatever else comes to mind about the time you’ve spent away from them. They hang onto every word, and you can’t help but smile. You’ve always been close to Jack's family, but when the one-year mark passed, it’s like they fully accepted you as one of them. Now, almost two years in, Ellen and Jim treat you like the daughter they never had, and they tell you often how much more they like you than any of their sons. You always laugh, but you know deep down that you are special to them. And that fact alone makes you consider yourself one of the luckiest girls.
“They just landed,” Quinn announces. “Almost showtime.”
Ellen winks at you from her space on the couch, and you settle deeper into the comfortable space, counting down the seconds until your boyfriend walks through the door.
—————————-
About half an hour later, you hear loud commotion as the door swings open and Jack and Luke enter the building. It takes less than three seconds for Jack to yell.
“Where is she?”
You laugh at him and yell back from the living room. “I’m in here.”
In mere seconds, Jack is in the room, making a beeline toward you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a month, and you won’t lie; he looks pretty good.
You make your move and step off the couch, going to hug him, but he halts in his place a few feet away, giving you a once-over.
“Get that shit off you.”
As soon as that leaves his mouth, everyone busts out laughing, and Jack gives you a less-than-impressed look. You feel a bit bad, so you give him a small smile and lift the jersey off your frame, revealing a Devils t-shirt underneath.
As soon as you throw the jersey away, he takes two long strides and engulfs you in a hug. You thought that nothing could beat Ellen’s hug, but Jack's grip nearly breaks your back.
You pull away after a second and pry him off of you. You love him more than anything, but you’re not about to show massive amounts of PDA in front of his parents, who are sitting a few feet away.
He gets this because he lets you go and gives his parents and brother a quick greeting, then leads you away from the living room. Everyone allows it to happen, and you find yourself in the privacy of the bedroom.
“You’re funny, but you better have my jersey for tomorrow night.”
You let out a small laugh and cross the room again, linking your hand behind his head and pulling him closer to you. His hands find home on your waist, and his fingertips dip under your shirt a bit, gently squeezing.
“I promise, J,” you grin. “I’ll do my best to show support to the losing team.”
He releases a soft gasp and gives you a slight look of betrayal.
“Losing team?”
Your grin goes even wider. “Check that stats, bud. You’re in a bit of a losing streak.”
He narrows his eyes a bit, and with one quick motion, he grabs your frame and tosses you on the bed. He enters attack mode, lays his entire weight on you, and begins grabbing at your sides. You, of course, go into defense mode and fight to push him off. You fight for power for a minute before you pull your defining move. He gets close, too close, and you give him your best doe eyes. The second he catches your stare, he folds, and he puts himself at your mercy.
For the first time in a hot minute, you pull him to meet you; the second his lips are on you, you implode. It’s been too long, and there is nothing more comforting and familiar than the boy lying nearly on top of you. You kiss him for a minute, your lips molding perfectly together before you pull away, gently patting his face.
“I think your family would like to see you.”
You push him away again as he rolls his eyes.
“I see them enough.”
He goes back to try to kiss you, but you push him away, putting a finger to his lips and shaking your head.
“Come on.”
He lets out an annoyed huff and removes himself from the bed, pulling you up along with him. You make your way back to the family room and laugh yourself into the family events.
Soon, you’re all playing board games, and you find out very quickly reminded about how sore of a loser your boyfriend is. You play board games cards, and when it gets late enough in the night, you all make your way to the living room for a movie.
You watch something light-hearted, and you can’t help but feel bliss as you’re tucked into Jack's side, surrounded by the entirety of the Hughes family. It’s a nice moment, and it’s the times like this that have you thankful you’ve stuck with the boy at your side.
——————
Before the sun rises, Jack's alarm blares next to you, and you can only groan at the noise. Alarms are truly nothing but an escape from bliss, and you wish you could stay forever in this little bubble. You’re warm comfy, and you don’t mind the boy you’re cuddled next to.
But alas, he is a slave to hockey, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips and swings himself out of bed. You follow a few minutes later, moving at a sloth pace. Instead of getting fully ready, you make your way downstairs to where the smell of bacon is wafting through the house. You’re almost giddy as you see Ellen and Quinn making breakfast, and you get even happier when Ellen places a steaming mug of coffee in front of you.
“You’re an angel, thank you.”
She gives you a big smile and pours another cup for herself. As soon as you catch the time, you offer to take Quinn’s place with the cooking, to which he gladly accepts and runs off to shower and get ready for the big game.
As soon as all the Hughes boys are out of earshot, you get down to business.
“I’ll raise to fifty on the Devs.”
Jim scoffs at your bet. “I love ‘em, but I disagree. Offense has been a bit sloppy. I’ll raise to a hundred on the Nucks.”
You quirk your eyebrow, then turn to the Queen, who seems to be pondering.
“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I think I’m gonna say Nucks too.”
You let out a soft groan but hold your ground.
“Alright. Final bet is a hundred. Winner takes all.
You all shake hands, sealing the deal.
As if you weren’t up to gambling, you act as naturally as possible as the three boys enter the kitchen. Each one is clad in a suit, and it warms your heart to see them all together. They look adorable, and you can’t help but laugh when Ellen demands a picture. They oblige, but like every other photo they take, it slightly looks like they’re being held at gunpoint. But you win some, you lose some.
Eventually, you’re all fed, happy, and once another alarm goes off, you know it’s time. You say your goodbyes to the boys, wishing them the best of luck. You hug Quinn, do your secret handshake with Luke, and press a quick kiss to Jack's lips.
Once you finish, they say their goodbyes to their parents and make their way toward the door, but they don’t get far before Jack pulls you toward him one last time.
“You ready to watch me destroy Quinn?” He teases.
You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a laugh. Nonetheless, you give him one last peck, swat his ass, and yell one final encouragement as he heads out the door.
“Don’t embarrass me!”
He flips you the bird as he gets into Quinn’s vehicle, and you smile and give him one back as you head back into the house.
You sit back down to finish talking with the parents l, and time ticks by faster than you’d like. Soon enough, it’s time to get ready, and you throw on your devil's jersey. You say a little prayer and hope they all do good. Things like this don’t happen often, and you hope it’s simply a good game.
———————
You smiled as wide as you could as the three Hughes brothers posed for a couple of pictures. You could see the distaste on all their faces, but they did it anyway.
Once they do the appropriate media, the game begins, and you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. It’s a good game, no, a great game. Soon, the first period is almost over, but not before your boyfriend has to remind everyone who he is, and he scores a goal.
It’s known that the Hughes parents don’t show much emotion at the games, and even more so when it’s their sons playing on opposite teams. So you control yourself, but you don’t miss when Ellen squeezes your hand.
The game continues, and it’s a nail-biter. Each minute you watch, you get more and more tense. Maybe it’s because you’re just nervous, or perhaps it’s the fact you have a hundred bucks on the line. But either way, you pray the clock ticks faster.
It doesn’t, but once Luke scores, you can’t help but start to think that this might be the end of a losing streak. You laugh on the inside because, of course, all it takes is a little brother rivalry to get the Devils back into motion.
———————
When the clock hits zero, and the Devils win, you practically die in your seat. You’re so thrilled for Jack and Luke, but a small part of you is a bit depressed for Quinn. But you know, if anyone can handle a loss like this, it’s the eldest Hughes, so you’re not too worried. Instead, you focus on your boyfriend, who, even from the box, looks the happiest he’s been in a while. He was given the title of the first star of the game, and you absolutely love it when he’s like this. You know he’s going to be in one of those unstoppable moods. You love it, but he can be a cocky little shit, and you know he’s going to be almost insufferable. You’ll take it, though, and embrace every part of it.
A few minutes later, the area starts clearing, and you’re all getting ready to leave the box, but you almost forget what is happening when Jim slides you a crisp hundred-dollar bill and winks at you.
“Jack really pulls out the stops when you’re at a game.”
You let a blush creep onto your face as you take the bill. You’d be lying if you said that you felt bad. This isn’t the first game you’ve bet on against Jim, and it certainly won’t be the last.
“Alright, you two gamblers, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”
Ellen leads the three of you down to where you’ll see the men of the hour. You feel the happiest you’ve felt in a while as you follow behind them, and when you get close enough, you can hear your boyfriend laugh from a short distance. Your heart skips the noise, and as soon as he spots you from across the room, he moves as fast as lightning to get to you.
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✧ 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | luke hughes (feat. quinn + jack) ♔
summary: the relationship between the hughes brothers is special, but the bond between quinn, jack, and luke’s girlfriend is something else or four times quinn and jack were there for luke's girlfriend when she couldn’t tell luke or luke wasn’t availble
warnings: finals (physics), stress, crying, mean comments, threats, fighting, car breaking down/running out of grass, being followed, angsty + fluffy, asshole luke
notes: happy almost (or now) new year everyone! i still have three hours (central time different fr). for the finals one you can pick whatever you want but i suck at physics so i put that but you can put math or something related to your own major if you want, also I gave you a 4.0 bc i can and it made sense for this. I tried to do as much with quinn and jack but my luke side was coming out a lot in the second and last one.
nhl masterlist | main masterlist
The One with the Finals | Quinn ~ Winter of 2023
The day before her physics final, y/n was in tears. There were papers not only all over her desk but on the walls and the ground as well. The whiteboard that hung in her apartment was littered with kinematics equations and a bunch of random vocabulary words that probably weren’t necessary for her final.
More tears sprung in her eyes as she looked at her review guide, “Who the fuck knows this shit?”
Her roommates had already gone home, finishing their finals the day before so she was alone. It was almost 7 and she had been studying for six hours, maybe more. She knew she should stop and take a break, make some dinner, maybe even watch a movie, but she couldn’t, not now, not when her grade was on the line.
She was so close, oh so close to being done but the last question was too much for her. It sent her brain into overdrive, the wires were crossed, and nothing made sense anymore, not that it ever did anyway. She let out a noise, a cross between a groan and a whine, and threw her notes down and her pencil across the room.
She took a peak at her phone and noticed the mass amount of messages from her boyfriend, a few from her parents, and a few from Luke’s family. The boy was so worried that he made his parents and Quinn and Jack text her just to see if she would answer, but she didn’t.
Now, no offense to Jack (but offense) and no offense to Luke, but they weren’t always the brightest of the bunch. Which is why she called Quinn, tears still obviously present.
“I’m going to fail.”
“Y/n? Luke’s been calling you for hours.”
“Yes, I know. I was studying for physics, and I’ve concluded that I’m going to fail.”
Quinn sat up from where he was lying on his bed, “No, you’re not.”
She let out a sob, “I am and then I’m going to get kicked out of school and everyone’s going to make fun of me and then Luke won’t want to date me anymore and then you guys will stop talking to me-”
“Hey! Calm down, none of that is going to happen because it’s not possible, y/n/n. What’s your GPA right now?”
“A 4.0.”
Quinn laughed, “Stop being so hard on yourself. You’re fine. I promise you, but if you feel that badly about it, I’ll help you study.”
“Really?”
“No, I’m fucking with you. Of course, I’ll help you. You’re my favorite sibling after all.”
“I’m not even related to you.”
“Yet.”
Y/n sent the PDF of the review guide to Quinn, who now sat at his desk on his computer. The two talked and studied with one another before Quinn realized the lack of color in the girl’s face, “Have you eaten yet?”
Y/n looked at him and then quickly looked down shamefully, “No.”
Quinn looked like he was going to yell at her but in reality, he was just worried, and the tiniest bit frustrated with her for not taking care of herself, not that he would ever tell her that though, “Go make dinner, you can bring me with if you want. I’ll even make my own.”
“But-”
“No, you’ll think better if you eat.” That could’ve been a total lie, but she would’ve listened to him anyway.
She took her phone and computer with her, still talking to Quinn as she made some ramen - the good kind, not the crappy instant one. Quinn smiled, happy with himself for making his brother’s girlfriend - or if he had it his and Jack’s way, his sister - take care of herself and feel better.
༶•┈┈⛧┈♛
She had just gotten done with her final and she screamed internally, walking out of the room and heading to her dorm, waiting for her family to pick her up. She called Quinn immediately after she stepped out of the building.
“Quinn! Quinn! Quinn! Guess what?!”
Quinn had been on his way to practice when he got the phone call, “What?”
“I passed!”
Quinn smiled, “See I told you, you would.”
“Thank you!"
✧༺✎༻∞
The One with the Haters | Jack ~ Fall of 2023
It never really bothered her, and Luke always said it shouldn’t. Yet, when Luke started his rookie year and gained more attraction, so did she. They were worse than what they were before, they came in mass amounts, the words dug deeper, and everything seemed to escalated.
This wasn’t something that should’ve burdened Luke, he had enough to deal with it being his rookie season and trying to perform as well as he could, he didn’t need to hear about his fans attacking his girlfriend as well. Luke was, let’s just say, the most oblivious of them all. So she didn’t really have to worry about him finding out about it, anyway.
However, Jack knew about her mood changes. Every time she visited the two in New Jersey, she distanced herself from them, she took notice of who was around them when they went out and strategically sat next to Luke so people wouldn’t make accusations of her favoring Jack over him but not too close to him that it would seem like she’s attached and overbearing him.
He also took notice of the comments on his brother’s Instagram posts or whenever the wags would post y/n at a game.
‘He’s too good for her.’
‘Why does she even come? It’s obvious he doesn’t want her there, he doesn’t even play well when she’s there.’
‘She’s just using him.’
‘7 don’t know what he sees in her.’
‘She’s not that pretty.’
Those barely scratched the surface of the comments. There were more, most about her looks and another good chunk of them just saying how the two didn’t make sense together. But the ones that hurt the worst, were the ones that came up once or twice in every ten posts. The ones that were about her using him, the ones that made threats to her and her family. The ones claiming that they knew everything about her life. The ones that said she was cheating on Luke with Jack or Quinn.
Jack had his fair share of hate comments, many of which he remembered from his rookie season. He knew how it felt to have someone close to him be praised so much and then be torn down for simply having a relationship with them and not being as good.
The Devils were visiting Detroit near the late end of November and y/n decided to go to the game, hanging out with them the two days that they flew down early to be with her before the game. They were out at a restaurant and y/n was sitting in the very corner of the booth that they got.
Luke sat down next to her as Jack slid into the other side of the booth, still bantering with his brother. Luke was oblivious to the distance between him and y/n, shrugging it off as if she was just hot. Luke and Jack continued to talk about the game, stopping for the waiter to take their order who just so happened to be a fan of the Devils. Y/n rolled her eyes as she subtly flittered with her boyfriend, giving Jack a look.
The waiter walked away and Luke got up and left to the bathroom, “So when are you going to tell him? Or are you waiting for him to figure it out by himself?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Y/n dug her face into the menu, avoiding eye contact with Jack.
“Uh huh, sure. Then what are these?” Jack showed the girl his phone, comments from Luke’s most recent post showing.
“Jack.”
“Y/n.”
“There’s not much he can do about it anyways, they’ll keep doing it no matter what. Besides, they’re not wrong.”
“He has a right to know and no, nothing they say is true. You are Luke’s world and he will defend you until he dies. If someone is threatening you, which there is, he will find a way to stop it. And Quinn and I will help too. We want you safe.” Jack reached over the table to pat her shoulder.
She nodded, “Just talk to him. Okay?”
༶•┈┈⛧┈♛
Later that night, Luke was in bed with y/n, both of them on their phones. Luke was playing a game and y/n was on Instagram. She hadn’t actively searched out the comments but when she saw a post of her with 200 comments under it, she had to look, and they weren’t all that different from what she was expecting.
“Luke?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I talk to you about something?”
“Of course, what’s up?”
“Have you seen the comments?”
“What comments?”
“These.” She handed Luke her phone and watched as he scrolled through them, and before he could say anything, she took it back and showed him her DM’s.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? We could’ve done something to stop this.” She just shrugged.
“Sweetheart, this is scary. I don’t you to have to endure this by yourself, nonetheless.”
“It’s fine, I’m fine.”
“But you’re not. I know everyone thinks I’m oblivious, and yes, sometimes I am, but I can see you’re hurting and you have been for a while. I might not have known why or how but I was so worried about you, okay? I’m going to do everything I can to stop this.”
Luke placed his hands on her face and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. His thumbs lightly rubbed over her face, just under her eye, as hers rubbed up and down his hands, stopping at his knuckles to rub over them as well. She smiled slightly at him but was still worried about everything that was going on.
“Hey,” Luke made her look up at him. “Everything is going to work out, no matter how long or how much it’s gonna take. I’m going to get Quinn and Jack to help, I’ll have the team help as well. We’re all going to help to make sure you and your family are safe. I promise.”
She nods, “Okay.”
He kissed her forehead before her lips and pulled back to smile at her.
✧༺✎༻∞
The One with the Car | Quinn + Jack ~ Summer of 2023
Despite dating for three years, y/n was never really the biggest fan of letting Luke help her, she wasn’t the biggest fan of anyone helping her, to be honest. That’s why when she was in the middle of nowhere, scared out of her mind and not thinking straight, she hesitated to call her boyfriend.
It was the summer, she had been visiting the Hughes family at the lake house and she had gone to get some food for dinner for her, Quinn, and Jack. She wasn’t lost per se, when she left she knew how to get back home, she had been there countless times before. Yet, she felt as if she was being followed and that scared her, causing her to go a different route home, one she wasn’t that familiar with, and even then she sort of knew where she was.
The car was still following her so she decided to start taking random turns here and there and when she did the trick she was taught, take four right turns, they left after the first one. She let out a deep breath and continued to drive, just to see if they would pop up again, but they didn’t and now she was in the middle of nowhere, with an almost empty tank of gas.
Back at the lake house, Quinn, and Jack sat in the living room. Ellen, Jim, and Luke decided to go out for dinner to a fancy restaurant, and the whole nine yards, the other three weren’t bothered to even move from their seats. In hindsight, should they have just gotten Uber Eats or DoorDash, yes, but y/n wanted to get out of the house, just to a certain extent.
She didn’t want to interrupt her boyfriend’s time with his parents so she called Quinn, voice wavering, “Quinn.”
“Hey, y/n. Where are you? We thought you would be back by now.”
“About that. I’m sort of in the middle of nowhere and there was this car that was following but they stopped but I also don’t know if they just left and are coming back because they knew I was onto them-”
“Hey, calm down. Send me your location, Jack and I are on our way. Keep us on the phone and if you see them come back just start driving.”
“I’m almost out of gas.”
“We’ll hurry, just keep a lookout, okay?”
Five minutes passed and the boys were almost already halfway there, speeding the whole way as much as possible. She looked up and in the rearview mirror, there were headlights, “Guys? Is that you?”
Jack and Quinn looked at each other in confusion, “No?”
“Well, shit.” Y/n turned her car on and immediately pressed on the gas.
The car didn’t follow her, simply turned on the street behind where her car had been, but she didn’t know that, so she kept driving until her car was out of gas, “I’m out of gas.”
“We’re almost there, you should see us, right… about… now.” She looked up and saw them, easily recognizing the car. She got out of the car and practically ran to them.
Quinn hugged her back when her arms wrapped around him, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did anyone follow you?”
She shook her head, “I’m fine, just still a little spooked.”
Jack stood off to the side and only now had y/n just noticed, “Hi Jack.” She looked at him tentatively. Contrary to her belief, Jack loved hugs, especially y/n’s hugs. She always thought differently, so she always hesitated to hug him.
Yet, when he opened his arms, she ran into them just as she did with his older brother, “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“Always.”
✧༺✎༻∞
The One with the Fight | Quinn + Jack - April of 2023
“I just don’t understand, Luke.”
“Of course, you don’t you never do!”
They had been arguing on and off all day, everything the other person did set them off, it was hours of pointless and petty arguing. Realistically, they both had been in the wrong, but Luke screwed up the most. It was when they both found out that he would be going to Jersey.
She had scheduled plans with friends earlier that week, but she would’ve dropped everything to hang out with Luke and help him pack. She offered to do that but Luke declined, saying he could handle it and he wanted her to go out and have fun with her friends. Truthfully, they had been spending almost every waking moment together since they knew.
“You were to one that told me to go hang out with them! I offered to help you and stay with you, but you declined!”
“I never said that.”
Y/n gave him a look that said all the different, “You’re such a fucking liar.”
“Oh, I’m the liar?”
“Yes!”
“If you loved me, you would’ve stayed back, anyways. And you know what? I’m done with this conversation. Don’t wait up.” Luke took his duffle bag and suitcase and left y/n’s dorm.
She stared at the door as it slammed practically in her face. The silence was deafening in the room, you could hear the barking of dogs and horns blaring from outside. If you listened hard enough you could hear the wind slapping against the window.
For two minutes she stood there, staring at the door, body still and her hair blowing from the AC. She snapped out of her trance when she felt a lone tear roll down her face. Since then, it was one after another and she ran to grab her phone from her nightstand dialing Jack’s number.
Jack answered confused, “Hello?”
“I think Luke might be on his way to Jersey.”
“But he’s not supposed to leave yet.”
“We got into a fight and he sort of-” She choked on a sob, “stormed out of here with his duffle and suitcase.”
“What do you mean you guys got into a fight? You guys never fight.”
“Yeah well ‘never’ is a fucking stupid word. And this is totally not the point of this phone call, Jack. Can you just make sure he’s okay? I don’t want him getting hurt or anything.”
“Luke’s a big boy and if he decided to come here on a whim then he can handle it. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Tears still were streaming down her face and she picked at her nails as she slid down the wall, landing on the floor.
“What happened, y/n/n?”
“It was stupid, it was my fault.”
“You’re lying.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re voice is more intense when you lie because you try to convince everyone you’re right by sounding more confident.”
“So why do you know that and not Luke?” She balled to the older boy, placing her head in her hands, the phone dropping from her grasp.
“Y/n? Y/n!” Jack tried to gain her attention but failed, causing him to add Quinn to the call.
“Jack? Y/n? What’s up?”
“Y/n answer us.”
“What’s going on?”
“Y/n! Come on, please answer.”
“I’m sorry, I dropped my phone.”
“Can someone please explain to me what is going on? And where is Luke?”
“Luke fucked up is what’s going on,” Jack said, annoyed.
Y/n now sat against her bed and her phone propped up on the wall, switching to face time, “We got into a fight.”
“You guys never fight.”
“Yes, I’m aware, now can we move on from that fact because it happened and it’s over with.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“He was mad because he’s supposed to be leaving soon and I went out with my friends after I had already offered to stay back and help him pack and everything like that but he said no. So, he’s right, it is my fault. If I loved him, I would’ve stayed.”
The was a simletanous silence from the boys before a loud, “He said that?!”
“Yeah? Why? Is he right? I knew he was right.”
“No, no, no of course not. He’s not right. He’s a fucking dick for saying that.”
“But I should’ve stayed with him, he’s leaving soon.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve.
“Y/n/n, listen to me right now. Nothing you did tonight was your fault. Maybe something that we don’t know that happened you did, but what he said… you didn’t deserve that. He knows how much you love him and if he stooped that low to make you feel bad, then maybe he should take some time to cool off. I’m not saying that he should’ve left the way he did, but maybe some space is good.” Quinn explained to her.
She nodded but tears were still falling, “Do you think he’s going to break up with me? I mean, he’s going to go off and be in the NHL and I’m just going to be me. I’m nothing special.”
Jack and Quinn made eye contact through the phone and Jack went to say something but was interrupted, “You’re everything to me.”
She snapped her head to the door and saw Luke standing there, his bag falling to the ground. She stood up quickly, wiping her face rid of any signs of her crying, “Luke.”
“How could you say that about yourself?”
Quinn and Jack hung up the phone, not wanting to interrupt their conversation despite them wanting to be there just in case he said something out of line. Luke wrapped his arms around the girl, “You are the most amazing person ever. I’m so sorry if I made you feel any differently.”
Y/n just shrugged, not bothered by that but more so the fight itself. Luke pulled back, saddened slightly by the lack of reciprocation in the affection, “And I am so sorry for what I said. I know you love me and I know I said you could hang out with your friends. I think just deep down I thought you would’ve stayed anyways and I was scared of leaving you.”
Y/n nodded and Luke’s hands went to her cheeks, wiping off the remnants of her mascara, “I understand, Luke. I just wish you would’ve handled it more like an adult than a teenager.”
“And I can’t even begin to explain how horrible I feel about that.”
“Can we just cuddle?”
“Anything you want.”
The two laid in better for a little while as they hadn’t wanted to do anything else. An hour later, y/n spoke, “I forgive you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I do. Emotions were high and I know that shouldn’t be the way we should handle things but we’re both stressed and you’re leaving soon I just want to forget about it.” Luke nodded, wanting to respect her wishes, “I love you, Lukey.”
“I love you.”
𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 | 𝐣. 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬
₊⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 — secrets are best kept buried, just like your tangled relationship with your best friend’s older brother.
₊⊹ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — unrequited love ( that heart wrenching shit ), cursing? weird mentions and descriptions of blood, cursing ( lots of it ), yelling / arguing ( LOTS of it ), heavy angst with a dash of laughter, kind of OMC x reader but not too much, jealousy, kinda possessiveness ( from jack… had to do it ), emotional distress and all that good stuff
₊⊹ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — jack hughes x f!reader , OMC x f!reader (briefly), best friend!luke hughes x f!reader
₊⊹ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i’ve returned from a million year hiatus with this BIG BITCH and i’m sorry for it. may write a pt. 2 w a happy ending bc i’m a slut for them. anyway, enjoy! request if you’d like. love you guys.
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
You had existed within the world of Jack Hughes since your freshman year of high school.
Existed. Not an integral part, nor a spoke on the wheel of many friends he already had. Truthfully, you were only acquainted with him because of his younger brother, Luke; your freshman biology lab partner, and eventual best friend. Years had passed since you first met Luke—no longer were you the wide-eyed fifteen-year-old crossing the threshold from child to near-adult. Now, you were an adult. Twenty, with two more years of college stretched out before you, seemingly everything had changed.
Well, except for the lead weight chained to your ankle—the fundamental and inexorable truth that you were still in love with Jack Hughes.
It started as most consuming things do: a small idea, watered by brief looks, a brush of heated fingertips against your hand, or arm, or waist—or anywhere, really. A head rush that sent you meters under waves of excitement and anticipation. Loving Jack was like having a fever that never broke; it persisted, a dull ache that squeezed your skull each time he was near. Even now, five years later, the flashing of blue eyes—never brimmed with what you knew was embarrassingly reflected in your own—was enough to make sweat bead at your palms.
It never grew into more than a hope, a wishful desire. But wishing seldom got anyone anywhere, and it surely hadn’t helped you. When the months turned warm and spring faded into summer, the overwhelming ache of freedom that came with warm weather and the end of the hockey season drew Luke and his brothers to Sanibel—a beach so wrought with memories of youth and foolish memories that the idea of going another year made dread settle like steel in your bones. They’d bought it after a vacation there a few years ago, and the rest was history.
But, of course, Luke—the youngest of three—never took no for an answer.
“You can’t miss this year,” he had insisted. The Devils had their hopes cut short once more—this time in an second round exit to Carolina. Ergo, the expected departure time had been bumped up significantly. Vancouver had missed the playoffs altogether.
You stood silent, tearing away skin from your nail-beds as Luke leaned against the kitchen counter. The cold metal of the fridge pressing into the bare strip of skin on your back was the only thing keeping you present in the conversation.
You hated how Luke did this—he’d take your silence over text as an invitation to barge his way into your apartment, destroying the barrier of safety and excuses a phone provided, and ask you face-to-face. And how could you say no? You never had before, and look where that got you. No closer to removing hooks branded with the name Jack from your heart.
“Luke…” you sighed, only dropping your hands when blood bubbled to the surface of your torn skin. Pain rippled down your fingertips, but you ignored it. The dread that quickened your pacing heart was too overwhelming a sensation. “I don’t know—maybe I should—”
“Skip out?” Luke rounded the kitchen counter and came to stand in front of you. “No way, Bells. You have to come. Otherwise I’ll be alone all summer.”
You could have scoffed if you cared more. Bells. That dumb nickname Jack had given you years ago—according to him, it was because you were such a silent walker, you required a bell to be heard. Aside from the embarrassment you got from being called a childhood nickname even now, it reminded you that your existence was always going to be tied to Jack. A piece of him carried with you, a cage keeping your heart from beating without him; the bright red ribbon tied around your wrist that screamed I Love Jack Hughes!
No matter what, it would always be him. You tried; God, did you try. Hearing stories of his hookups, the life of a single, superstar hockey player should have been enough to send your stupid childhood crush to its grave, but as if cursed by a necromancer, the mere mention of Jack brought it right back to life. It was a cruel cycle that just wouldn’t end. And you knew going to that damned beach house would only prolong the life of the indestructible feeling more.
Jack was tarnished jewelry, rubbing your skin green and raw and wrong, and yet—you could never seem to take it off, even when it made you look foolish.
Silence fell like thick fog. Luke’s eyes roved along your face, as if trying to read a book with the letters smudged. “C’mon, Bells. You have fun every year, and I don’t want to have a summer without you.”
“Jack and Quinn will be there,” you said, voice low. Pathetic anxiety swelled in your chest like the forecast of a hurricane. Even saying his name tightened your veins. “Trevor, Alex, and Cole, too—I don’t need to go, Luke. Won’t it be weird?”
An unamused look graced Luke’s face. “You go with us every year. Why would it be different now?”
You wanted to curse Luke for being so persistent. Part of you wished you could just scream that you loved his brother, but couldn’t. You never could. Loving Jack ensured you lost someone—Luke, who would never get over the thought of you potentially sleeping with Jack; and well, if that failed, you also fully lost Jack. Unrequited love confessions made fools of ghosts.
To Jack, you were a ghost. Haunting his life, disrupting some times, but never there long enough to be seen. And even if he did, he convinced himself you weren’t there, that you didn’t even exist. Maybe it were best if you moved on and let yourself rest. Ghosts haunt their murderers, but Jack hadn’t killed you, you’d killed yourself—hoping, wishing, praying he would take a moment to believe and see you. But he never did. So you floated through his life until the moment you were no longer confined by unfinished business.
And maybe that was what you needed. Closure, the severing of a tie that was only hurting you to hold on to. And maybe, closure would come this summer. To look on Jack and not feel your heart race, but settle into a quiet murmur, a healthy pace—to free yourself from the confines of this painful love and finally move on. Haunt the graveyard no longer; sitting by and hoping he would place flowers by the grave.
“Okay,” you said quietly, glancing down at your sweater. Crimson marks stained the white fabric. You’d accidentally wiped your fingers on the cloth. “You win.”
Maybe this would be the summer you let go of Jack Hughes.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
The cry of gulls and gentle breeze of salt-bitter air welcomed you back as the car breezed past the Welcome to Sanibel Island! sign. It felt like a taunt, as if you were passing into the circus, the main star of a show you never signed up for. With Sanibel came Jack, and the potential end to a love you’d clawed onto for dear life for the last half-decade. It felt strange, almost wrong, to imagine a world where Jack Hughes didn’t exist as the basis for all romantic interests. To hold someone’s hand and not compare the texture to his. To lose the anticipated blush that warmed your face each time he glanced at you. Because losing Jack was like losing a piece of yourself—all your life you’d associated love with him, and what would there be afterwards?
Sandy beaches rolled endless at the horizon, dotted with the figures of vacationers and locals alike. You glanced to Luke, his hand working the steering wheel as he drove the long-winded path to the beach house. Strands of your hair were roused by the invisible hand of the wind, no doubt knotting it, but you were too enraptured in what ifs and a potential future to much care.
“Are you excited?” Luke asked, looking to you. Elbow leaned against the doorframe, you managed to work your mouth into a smile. Even if it was twinged with apprehension.
“Of course. I love it here. I’m glad you guys were rich enough to buy it.”
Luke laughed.
And that was true. Summer here felt endless. Nights spent on the beach, the tickle of warmth from a stick-lit fire cradling you against the rush of cold blowing off the ocean. The bitter rush of alcohol that stung your veins. Hair made wet by the sea, drying beneath the warm fingertips of sunlight. Skin richening into a burn, soothed only by aloe vera and a cold shower. Laughter between friends and the restless nights talking. All of it was perfect. For you, summer was Jack. Brief and sweet, the thing you looked forward to seeing each year. But it never lasted long enough to truly feel, something you could never touch.
You wondered if you made it obvious. If Luke suspected, or Quinn; the eldest Hughes was always the most perceptive. Any time Jack said something that made your teeth clench with hurt, Quinn glanced at you. A reassuring smile. The extended hand in the dark. But if he knew, he never commented on it.
“Who’s already here?” you asked, eyes catching on the brightly colored houses lining the beach. Blue, pink, the odd green, melding together as the car breezed into the strip of land the beach house rested on.
You almost dreaded the answer. “Quinn and Jack,” Luke responded, voice a little distant—his eyes scanned for the house, too focused on his task to much care for the cringe you gave at the mention of Jack’s name.
You shouldn’t have been surprised, really. It was his house. Yet you found yourself hoping you’d at least beaten him here so you could mentally prepare for his arrival. As it were, you had about five minutes to do that.
Tires crunched against sand as Luke pulled into the driveway. Lead solidified in your bones until you felt as though you were going to sink straight into the earth. A deep breath expanded your chest, and you watched as Luke took out his phone—presumably to text that he’d arrived. Escaping the car, Luke stared at you expectantly. Your body pressed against the doorframe, eyes glanced out at the horizon. Smeared like a painting across the sky, a myriad of colors—oranges, pinks, yellows—foretold the coming of night. Maybe you could stay in here until everyone was asleep, to sneak past Jack and not have to—
The door to the passenger side opened, and there stood Luke, a hand on his hip. Making grabby hands like a toddler, he motioned for you to come. “What’s up with you, Bells? You’re so… quiet.”
You snorted. “That’s not news.”
“You know what I meant,” retorted Luke, grabbing your elbow with a gentle grip. “What’s got your head off to sea?”
Your brother! you wanted to scream, but found your tongue bolted to the bottom of your mouth. Offering instead a smile, you allowed Luke to help you out of the Jeep. Soft sand caught your feet, cushioning the drop. It felt strange to be back here again, but somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be the same. A rueful feeling ached your bones. This would maybe be the last time you’d ever come to the beach house. If your closure went as you intended… there would be no more summers in Sanibel. No more late beach nights. No more salt air creating a stick sheen on your skin. No more Jack Hughes.
“Just thinking about summer,” was all you said.
Like everything, its temporariness was what made it special.
Together, you and Luke began to unpack the bags from the trunk of the Jeep. “Any fun activities planned this summer?” you asked, hoping to alleviate the tension making your head pound.
Luke gave you a backwards glance as he practically leaned his whole body into the trunk. “New bar opened on the strip,” he told you. “I think we have to go.”
Your eyebrows crinkled. “We’re twenty, Luke. And this is a tourist town, they’re going to ID.”
Luke only smiled, clearly not thwarted by your pessimism. “Lucky then that you don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all figured out.”
You didn’t want to ask how, so instead you sighed, hauling your bag onto your shoulder. “Whatever. But I am not ending up in jail because you want to underage drink in public, Luke.”
There was no response to that. Slinking past you with elegance you thought his large frame incapable of, Luke began walking up the driveway and towards the beach house. It looked exactly the same as it had last summer—a gentle gray exterior, like the storm clouds that sometimes brewed over the sea, and a darker roof. White wood bordered the many windows, some with their own balconies. Rust spotted the metal of the garage, slowly encroaching from the outside. A simple wood fence enclosed the sides of the house, leading to the back where you knew a pool hid. Everything was exactly the same, yet so different. Last time you were here, it all felt so unknown, like the end of the summer would make or break the rest of your year. You’d hoped then that maybe Jack would notice, that it would finally be the year he looked at you as more than Luke’s best friend. You’d packed your cutest outfits, the bikinis your friends said would make any man double-take, yet nothing worked. It had been the same as every year before. Jack was nice, but indifferent. Friendly, but inattentive.
However, this year wasn’t like every other year. You didn’t come here with starry eyes and a child-like hope that Jack would pick you after years of oblivion. You came here to finally let go of him, to move on, to bury a love you’d kept on life support for years and years, in the hopes it would come back to life.
Feet making indents in the sand as you walked up the driveway, you saw Jack’s car—a silver Mercedes-Benz—parked a bit ahead. You hated the stutter in your step when you saw it, and you hated more the stoppage in your heart when you heard laughter rounding the side of the house. There was two voices, interwoven and nearly indistinguishable, but you’d know his laugh anywhere, know it blind. All the feelings you’d shoved aside in favor of an aloof disposition crawled their way out of shallow graves. A shaky breath, the fluttering of your eyes, and suddenly—there he was.
Trailing behind Quinn, soaked black swim shorts clinging to wide thighs, a bare chest coated in droplets of water, tousled hair styled by the unconscious hand of water. He smiled, maybe at something Quinn had said, you weren’t sure, and it all came back. How could you get closure when he incited such a deep, profound longing in your soul? When he tugged you towards him the the moon to the tide?
You’d stopped walking. When, you weren’t sure. Time became an endless thing as Jack’s eyes flickered to you. Those blue eyes shot through with something you weren’t sure how to describe, but he grinned—at you—and then he was walking towards you. All at once you wanted to lob a rock at Luke’s head for making you come, and then kill yourself for even thinking for one moment closure would be remotely possible when you still were in love with Jack.
His presence was all-consuming, like stepping to close to the fire. Fingers worn by years of use brushed your own when he took your luggage, carrying it with ease. Even older than you, Jack never lost that youthful sense of delight you’d seen on kids when they got a new toy. He’d always been the sun. For you, and for everyone around him.
You’d never deluded yourself into thinking you were the only one who loved Jack, or wanted him. But it didn’t stop you from wishing you were the one he’d choose.
“Bells,” Jack greeted, warmth oozing from his words, so much that you wanted to yell at him that he wasn’t being fair. How could he expect you not to want him? How, when he was so nice to you, yet so indifferent? “How was the trip?”
Blinking, you allowed him to gathering your luggage and begin walking back to the house. Water transferred from his body to your tote bag, but you found yourself not caring. He could ruin everything you’d brought and it wouldn’t matter. They’d at least be stained with his touch.
“Good,” you managed, trying to keep your feet even on the lumpy sand. Why they’d decided not to install an actual drive way would never make sense to you. “Not a lot of traffic. Luke didn’t kill us, so that’s a plus.”
Jack laughed. It rumbled through his chest and echoed like a victory trumpet in the air. “He’s a shit driver,” he said. “Shoulda convinced him to let you drive with me.”
Tar filled your lungs. Words failed you, and so stupidity, you said: “But you drove with Quinn.”
Jack quirked an eyebrow. Readjusted your bag on his shoulder. “Quinn’s a big boy. He can travel alone.”
Before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth, “So you think I’m a little girl?”
Jack paused. Glanced over at you. The meeting of two sets of eyes holding extremely different emotions. After a moment, he cut the tension with another laugh. “You are two years younger than me.”
“So is Luke, and last I checked, he was the tallest,” you retorted, offering up a chuckle yourself. You didn’t want to give more, to give in. You had to keep that wall, even if there was already so many holes in it.
With his free hand, Jack tussled your hair, wiggling your head around. You batted him off, feigning annoyance, when really, you wanted him to keep touching you. You could have groaned. God, you were pathetic.
Entering the beach house was like entering freedom. It was typically decorated, that seaside aesthetic Ellen had done herself the first year the boys bought the house. Fishing net and shells in jars, accompanied by hanging hammocks and white coral displays hadn’t moved, and you felt the air greet you, blowing in from the open back door that looked over the pool—and the beach. Salty air snaked up your airway, a welcome sting. A missed one. You weren’t sure if you’d miss Jack or the beach house more.
Luke disappeared with Quinn, the latter offering a gentle smile—perhaps a little pity twinged in. That left only you and Jack, standing in the wide mouth of the living room, the sunset sky bathing your skin in those candle-light oranges you so loved. Beside you, the gentle pat, pat, pat of water dripping off of Jack’s shorts was all that was heard. You took a moment more to enjoy the feeling of peace you got from being here, before Jack snapped you back to the current with a throat clear.
“Want me to bring your stuff to your room?” Your room. The one you’d claimed all those years ago. A room that—after this summer, perhaps—would bo longer be yours. You’d spent hours decorating it, little trinkets imposed with sentiment covering the room. The sea blue sheets. The balcony overlooking the ocean. All of it would be gone.
You had to inhale to stave off the melancholia crawling up your throat like bile. “Yeah, thanks.”
It was hard not to look at Jack. He was always the center of attention—on the ice, off the ice; in his personal life, in the eye of the public. He just was. Never asked for it, always had it. Girls wanted him, boys wanted to be him. You imagined it got tedious after so many years, but at the same time, you wondered what it would be like to be that loved. So adored you could have anything and anyone. You found you’d trade it all for him, for Jack, if he simply asked. You knew he wouldn’t do the same. Why give up freedom for a small-town girl that his brother had dragged around for longer than he probably should?
Up the stairs, through a hallway, and there your room was. You tried to revel in it, in the finality of it all. Convinced you were never coming back here. That Jack would never carry your luggage for you again, making a mess of the floors just to help you out. Inside, you saw the bed was made just like how you left it. A small whale plush—affectionately named Hershey for the chocolate it had been holding when it was won at the arcade—was sat just before the pillows. You hadn’t left him there. Hershey was a cherish piece of history; Jack had won him for you, two years back. Whales were your favorite animal, a gentle giant, the crown of the sea. He knew it, and he had gotten him for you. Maybe that was what kept your hope alive, the little things, the moments where he was more than just an unreachable deity you prayed to repeatedly just for him to notice you.
You glanced over your shoulder as Jack placed your luggage down with a thud. He rubbed his hands together. “Found him downstairs,” he said, gesturing to Hershey, “figured I’d bring him home.”
Home. A word that made your gut turn. His home, but never yours.
“Oh, yeah,” you said lamely. “Wouldn’t want to lose Hershey. You tried so hard to win him.”
Jack scoffed. “I was playing against Trevor. I’d be embarrassed if I didn’t win.”
“Don’t talk about Trevor like that,” you teased with a smile. Finding yourself slipping back into the dynamic. You’d try to make him laugh, just to make him smile. Just to make him see you could make him happy.
Jack only rolled his eyes. You attempted to side-step him, only for your foot to catch his own. A hand immediately came to your rescue, steadying you. A hot flush pinkened your cheeks and slid down your spine. His breath fanned over your temple, a catalyst for every single one of your nerves fraying. You hated that he could do this to you, without trying, without caring, when you tried so hard to avoid falling back into him like a fool. It wasn’t fair—but when was love?
Jack pulled his hand away, the phantom of his fingers imprinted on your skin. Marked. Just like you’d always been. “Sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment eating at you.
His laugh was a reward. “It’s fine,” he responded. It was always fine with Jack. Never hard feelings. You didn’t think he had a aggressive bone in his body, even after years and years of playing physical hockey. “Even after all the years, you still can’t stay on your feet.”
A reference to your clumsiness. Which wasn’t clumsiness. It was just Jack. You never stumbled around anyone but him. “Yeah,” you bit out, probably harsher than intended. “Guess I haven’t changed.”
But you had. And you needed to find a way out of the hole that was Jack Hughes before you were buried alive.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
Letting go of things has never been easy. Marked with scratches and tears, everything you’d ever relinquished never left the same. How could it, when you’d spent so much time loving it, cherishing it, only for it to be cruelly ripped from your grasp? Letting go had never been easy, because you’d never been ready to lose what was taken, because it was never ready to leave you either. That’s why it was so easy to reason with yourself about finally moving on from Jack Hughes.
It wasn’t mutually assured destruction. There would be no blowing out of stars and creation of supernovas when you finally put the love to rest. Because it was you. It was never him. He didn’t love you—hell, he didn’t even know you loved him. Perhaps there laid the foundation for burial, a tomb within the dunes, marked with a single shell. When the time came, no claw marks would mar Jack’s skin. He was never yours to mark.
Two weeks had since passed. Settling in had always been easy, but this time, it felt like a final meal before execution. A good thing before the inevitable end. Nights spent by the pool, the reflection of the water a perfect mirror of Jack’s eyes. Drinking and laughing and talking—a chosen family, but one you’d soon depart. You’d always have Luke, the last cord of the fraying rope, unbreakable and timeless. But never again would you tug on that rope, just to see the other end. To move on from Jack would be to forget him, as much as you could.
The summer sun blistered overhead, biting your skin until red bloomed. Splayed out on a beach towel, you opted to suntan while the boys enjoyed the water. You’d get in, eventually, preferably when Jack was not in. You didn’t want the distraction of his body to further make you doubt your ability to handle change. Back facing the sun, you remained entranced by the book in front of you, instead imagining your love life was as explosive and beautiful as the story written for you. When you went to flip the page, something hit your back—a ball, you guessed, from the feeling of impact—making your already sunburnt skin sting like hell.
“Shit,” you cursed, placing your book face down in order to stand. Glancing to the side you figured the ball bounced off to, there sat the culprit: a black-and-white soccer ball, covered in patches of sand.
You heard some shouting, and opted to be a good samaritan and grab it. As you bent down to pick up the sandy ball, another pair of hands invaded your vision and brushed your own. Rightening, you saw a tall man—your age, presumably—who immediately began spewing apologies of all kinds.
He had that youthful look to him, the same as Jack. Golden curls fell around his eyes, slightly sandy, a bit wet, but gleaming like rays of sunlight. Familiar eyes, the blue of the sky after a storm, peered at you with a mixture of concern and apology. He was beautiful, in an artful way—a hand-sculpted effigy, lain in the town square to be worshiped. You figured with age and maturity he presently lacked, he’d be all the more beautiful.
But he wasn’t Jack.
“I am—so sorry!” he spewed words like bullets, hoping one apology landed. You bit down a laugh at the desperation leaking into his voice. “I wasn’t watching where I was kicking. Sorta shanked it—scratch that, really shanked it. Are you okay—I meant to ask—”
“I’m fine,” you cut him off, sparing him. As endearing as his apology was, you could see red rising to his face—you knew what it felt like. “Although I don’t recommend you shoot for the Premier League.”
Upon realizing you weren’t angry, the boy relaxed. “Yeah, as if,” he laughed, tossing the balls back and forth between his hands. “You are okay, right?”
Your eyebrow quirked. “Unless you’re secretly the Hulk, I don’t think you kicking a ball at me could do any serious damage.” Your fingers grazed the spot the ball struck. “Might have a weird mark on my back, ‘s all.”
Goldie Locks, as you’d taken to calling in him your head, circled around you and bent at his knees. His fingertips grazed the small of your back, rattling your spine into a shiver. You heard a subdued sound—something between a giggle and a sharp exhale of air through his noise—and twisted to look down at him.
“It looks dumb, huh?” you said, trying to feel the patter marked on your back with your fingers.
Goldie Locks shook his head. “You wear it well.”
“I better, or I’ll give you a matching mark,” you teased. He stood up, imposing. “Really, though, I’m fine…”
He caught on swiftly. “Jackson. Or Jack.”
You could have cursed the Gods and Fate and her trifling ways. Of course the first cute guy you find has to be him, but not be him. The great irony of life, you supposed it was. Finally ready to move on, and your tugged right back to square one.
A tight smile made its way onto your face. “Jackson.”
Jackson opened his mouth to say something, but the voice of the man you quite literally could not escape interrupted him. “Bells? You okay?”
You thought briefly of faking fainting.
“I’m fine,” you responded, without looking at Jack. You couldn’t. But you wanted to. “He just hit me with a soccer ball and was apologizing.”
Jack imposed into your vision anyway. Jaw working, the rapid flex of his muscles that told he ran to you. Suddenly, the sweltering heat was no longer the cause for your sweating. “Hit you?” he repeated, glancing to Jackson with a raised brow.
Shoved into an unwanted spotlight, Jackson immediately backpedaled. “Accident. Didn’t mean to hit your girl.”
Your girl.
Your girl.
Your girl.
Those two simple words repeated like a scratched vinyl in your mind. Jack’s girl. His. It was something that would have made past you puff your chest. It made present you feel sick. Another pull towards him. Another lock trapping you inside of the room. In the past, you wouldn’t have said anything—wouldn’t have fought it. You’d have waited to see if Jack would deny it; he always did. Another nail in the coffin. How many were needed until you finally understood?
But you were now actively trying to fight the feeling seemingly hardwired into your blood. The instinct that told you to love Jack. “Oh, we’re not dating,” you told Jackson. Blue eyes flittered to you—was he surprised? For once you denied, distanced. Was he confused? “He’s my best friend’s older brother.”
You didn’t know why you added that part. It wasn’t necessary—Jackson didn’t care about your relationships to Jack past the words not dating. But here you were, petty pride swelling in your chest at finally getting to stick it to Jack. Finally being the denier instead of the denied.
“Oh,” Jackson quirked his brow. Glanced at Jack; he said nothing. “Is it okay if I have your number?”
That shocked you. And it clearly shocked Jack, as well. His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to you. Gauging your response. You would have said no before. Would have made some dumb excuse. If you accepted, you distanced yourself from Jack, showed indifference. Past you couldn’t have that.
Present you could.
“Sure,” you said.
This summer would be different.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a date. Michael Neely in eleventh grade, but that was in major part because he looked entirely too similar to Jack—didn’t act like him, however. Didn’t smile like the sun’s envy. He just wasn’t Jack. For as long as you could remember, no one had been. Isolating yourself for years because of the off chance Jack would finally admit it, as if he’d been pulling a big joke on you and had actually wanted you back. But he never did. And you couldn’t wait around forever hoping he would. He never asked you to.
You went through your hair with a brush one final time before deeming yourself presentable. A knit green tank-top paired with denim shorts, warm vanilla perfume—one you’d used since Jack had offered a compliment on the scent—and a smile that you hoped appeared genuine. For once you were excited, not thinking of Jack, measuring Jackson up to him. You let Jackson be himself, undeterred by the ghost of your unrequited love.
The downstairs of the beach house was alive with loud laughter and conversation—you hated you could still pick out Jack’s laugh, could imagine his face when he did; the gentle scrunch of his nose, the squint of his eyes. You wondered if it would ever go away, that sixth sense. If you’d ever be truly and unapologetically free.
Rounding the corner, you were met with the sight of the three brothers playing what looked to be Chel, their eyes fixated on the large TV in front of the couch they were splayed on. You debated slinking out of the house, silent as they’d always teased you for being, just to avoid the awkward conversation you knew would come from the knowledge you—Bells, infatuated devotee of Jack Hughes—were going on a date with a boy you’d known a week.
Fiddling with your fingers, you stood at the back of the couch. Not wanting to interrupt their game, you went to simply tap Luke on the shoulder, hoping he’d eventually pause it. He wasn’t the one to do it, however. Luke and Queen groaned in annoyance when the screen paused, glancing over to the only person who could have done it. Jack didn’t spare them a glance. His homely blue eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed. Following his gaze, Luke and Quinn gave you a once-over.
“Hell are you going all dolled up like that, Bells?” Luke asked, flicking you on the wrist.
You didn’t really think you were dolled up. “I have a thing called a date, Luke.”
That incited the expected awkward silence. As if drawn by a unbeatable force, you found yourself glancing to Jack. White-knuckled, he gripped the controller with such force you were surprised it didn’t break on him entirely. You briefly wondered what his issue was before Quinn spoke.
“With who?” Surprise laced his question, and you hated it. Hated that he thought you were incapable of moving on from Jack—or maybe he didn’t think you incapable, just averse.
“That guy from the beach, right, Bells?” Luke piped up, turning his body on the couch to face you. “What was his name? Jack?”
You ground your jaw. “Jackson.”
Luke shrugged. “Same thing.”
It wasn’t. You really hoped it wasn’t.
You turned to leave, intent on scurrying out like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, when a voice called you back. Always calling you back, just when you tried to leave.
“Bells,” Jack spoke, voice drawled. You didn’t turn. “Where are you going?”
You blinked at him, dumbfounded. “On a date…?”
“Where?” You figured it could have been a growl if he were less careful. Luke and Quinn glanced at each other. You fought back a scream.
Why do you care? Why now? When I’m about to move on? I spent so much time waiting for you. I’m done.
You wanted to scream those words at him, but of course, like most confessions, they went unsaid.
“The cove,” you humored him, eyes flicking to your fingers. When had they started bleeding? The cove, of course, was as it sounded: a small chunk of land past the rock barrier at the beach, cornered in by mangroves and hidden away from sight, Jackson claimed it the perfect place for a seaside picnic. You weren’t one to argue.
When Jack made no effort to respond, you finally left. Jackson wasn’t even there yet, but you couldn’t stay inside anymore. Indecision and confusion were eating away at your gut, turning your mind into a war zone. You didn’t understand—couldn’t understand. Years spent in the shadow of Jack Hughes had taught you to fear the light, that if you even for a second let the rays touch you, came the consequence of losing the shade forever. And you’d tossed those fears aside, let yourself into the light, and that only made the dark come back in full force.
It wasn’t fair. Why weren’t you allowed to move on? To finally break the bonds that you yourself had made? Jack had never kept you near, and yet now he didn’t seem to want to let you go. Like a child unwilling to relinquish a toy just because it was theirs.
You tried not to dwell on it. Not when Jackson pulled up, his 4Runner breaking the noise of gulls calls and rumbling cars. Not when he led you out to the cove, picnic basket in hand, like an old-timey romance your mother used to watch. You tried, but just like everything concerning not thinking about Jack, miserably failed. Jackson was attentive, sweet, he did it all right. And as much as you hated yourself for thinking it, it was true: he wasn’t Jack.
“Are you a local?” Jackson asked you. Your mouth closed around a strawberry, staining your fingertips red—better than blood, you supposed.
The tide lapped gently at the sand before your feet, spanning out from beneath the quilt laid beneath you and Jackson. Always coming close, but never quite enough to wet your feet. Gnarled roots of mangrove trees split the sand, boxing the little cove in. You remembered coming here with Jack once, when he was trying to make up for throwing you in the pool with your phone in your back pocket. He hadn’t set up a picnic, only sat beside you in the sand and offered you Hershey. A silent apology. One you never forgot.
Trying to build over that memory was like trying to filter the salt out of the sea. There was too much to ever fully get rid of it.
A breeze tickled your legs. Sand parted between your toes. Everything felt normal; normal, you realized, wasn’t always right.
“No,” you responded after some time, tossing the strawberry head to the sea. “I come here every year with my best friend, his brothers, and their friends.”
Jackson nodded. “The guy from the beach, the one I thought you were dating—” You fought the urge to cringe, “—that was Jack Hughes, right?”
Always the icon. Beloved, beautiful Jack Hughes.
You glanced at Jackson. He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve known him for years. His brother is my best friend.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” he laughed, a whimsical sound. Off-key; pitched too high. You didn’t think you’d be able to differentiate it in a room of others. “How’d that even happen?”
You grinned. Memories of freshman year. Restless nights spent studying in Luke’s room. False trips to the bathroom just for a chance at a glance of his brother. “Luke and I met in our freshman year biology class. He absolutely sucked. Had to tutor the poor kid so he wouldn’t fail.”
Jackson shook his head, the mess of golden curls crowning him danced with the movement. Raising a finger, he wagged it at you as if apprehending a naughty dog. “Hold on now. Biology is damn hard, cut him some slack.”
You giggled. Almost cringed. You felt like a schoolgirl again, trying to slow time as a cute boy walked past. “Maybe if you’re a loser.”
More time passed, the sun’s rays dulled to a warm orange instead of a blinding yellow. The sea calmed. Unseen birds chirped and sung their tunes, never to be understood. Jackson asked questions, answered some. He indulged, dug deep, hoping for treasure. It was strange, to fix your hair and bat your lashes in the hopes of impressing a boy who wasn’t Jack Hughes. Stranger yet you were enjoying Jackson, even fantasizing about a second date. The cold fingers of the wind rose gooseflesh in its wake; your arms rose to combat it, folding against your body in hopes to retain heat. Jackson peered over.
“Cold?” he asked, presumptuous and forward and hoping; one arm already out of his cardigan.
You nodded, murmuring a thanks as Jackson draped his sweater over your shoulders. At once the smell of salt and secondhand smoke snaked up your nose, invaded your airways. It was so different from the warm amber you imagined your skin would faintly smell of if Jack made you his—he smelled like heartbreak and sleepless nights and longing, something you feared was permanently smeared on your flesh. You found yourself heating at the scent, blushing, a slight twinge of excitement at the thought of being claimed by another boy. Foolishly, maybe, you thought it could purge Jack from you, draw over the marks he’d made all over your flesh.
You’d had boys like you before, liked them back—felt the head rush that accompanied youthful yearning. None had ever compared to Jack. Like a stain on your favorite shirt, he’d never come out of your heart, a scar that pulsed every so often, a reminder that he was still there. That he’d never go away. You realized now, looking at Jackson—the soft lines that sprouted next to his eyes when he smiled, a mess of curly blond hair that seemed to fall perfectly in front of his eyes, catered specifically to his beauty—that the memories of wounds weren’t always bad. They weren’t just reminders that you’d been hurt, but that you survived.
Before your mind could conjure any wishful images of you and Jackson, he spoke, “Tomorrow night, there’s a beach bonfire.” His finger extended, curled a stray piece of hair out of your eyes. “Something the locals do every year to kick off summer.”
You smiled—genuinely smiled, not just a flash of teeth forced in order to hide a grimace. Not the smiles you got so used to giving Jack. “And you’re telling me this because…”
Banter. He could tell you knew where he was getting, yet wanted him to spell it out anyway. “Go with me? I think you’d enjoy it,” he said, voice gentle over the lap of waves against the shore. You could almost feel the world hold its breath, awaiting your answer. Would you cling to a hope and dream, or go with what was sitting in front of you? “Plus, having a pretty girl with a perfect personality on my arm wouldn’t hurt too bad.”
“Hmm…” You faked contemplation, tapping your chin. When Jackson flicked your forehead, you scoffed, batting at his hand. “Well now I’m reconsidering my answer, ass.”
Warm fingers wrapped around your wrist, caught it midair, a fish hooked on a line. Feverish, a heat you’d only associated with one person your whole life rose to your head as Jackson’s eyes met yours. Not blue, green. Your mind didn’t even attempt to paint over them, to erase his color, to make him him. Lips wet by eager tongues, a mutual desire. When had you last even considered another man romantically, sexually?
The answer was: not since Jack Hughes barged his way into your life and trapped your heart behind a wall, tossing away the key.
Before anything could be realized, before you could experience your first kiss in what felt like forever, a dull vibrating ripped the moment to shreds. Annoyance flashed in your heart, and a part of you told you to ignore it—but you couldn’t. What if something had gone wrong? Apologetically, you tore your eyes away from Jackson and dug your phone out of your back pocket.
The name flashing on the screen had your heart clenching.
Jack.
“Yes?” Confused, clipped. Why was Jack calling you?
“Oh, uh, hey,” came Jack’s voice—you frowned at his tone. He sounded as if he didn’t even know why he was calling. “I was just… calling to see when you’d be home tonight.”
A scream bubbled in your throat. This is why he was calling you? “This could have been a text.”
Jack laughed dryly. “Guess so. Figured you wouldn’t have seen it.”
You didn’t want to admit he was right. “It’s what…” You took your phone away from your face to look at the time. 8:43. “8:43? I’m not sure, Jack. We’re still at the cove.”
Shuffling on the other end. Your eyes darted to Jackson; he seemed intrigued at who was calling you. “Right, well… Luke wanted to know, so…”
You frowned. “Then why didn’t Luke call me?”
“Playing Chel,” was all you got in response.
Pettiness whirled in your chest like a maelstrom. For once you had the upper hand; cards hidden against your chest, not splayed out for all to see. Maybe with the right move, Jack would fold after so many years of winning. It was childish, you knew that, but the child in you who’d hoped and hoped and hoped only to get turned down every single time awoke—wanted Jack to feel the burn she’d felt when he’d sunk his hooks into her heart.
“I may not come home tonight,” you told him, relished in the pause. Jackson’s eyes flickered to you, curious.
“What?” Jack asked, voice darkened with knowing and other terrible emotions. “What do you mean?”
He knew very well what you meant.
“Absolutely fucking not.” You resisted the urge to recoil at the scorching flame simmering in Jack’s tone; he rarely ever spoke to anyone like that, least of all you. “You met him this week, Bells. If you aren’t home by 10:30 I’m coming to find you.”
Rage flared. You weren’t sure why. Maybe because you could pretend like he cared. As if he had any right to tell you when you had to be home. “So what? Now I have a curfew?” You didn’t want Jackson to overhear the spat, but it’s clear he was watching, listening, picking apart the conversation. “Forgot the part where you were my mother, Jack.”
“You’re staying in my house,” he retorted sharply. “10:30. I’m not kidding.”
After that, the line went dead.
Fire lashed in your veins, threatening to burn your being to ash. How dare he? Just as you inched out of the cage, he tries to drag you back in. Why did he care now? Why couldn’t he have before?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Tears taunted you. Tried to slip past your eyes. You had given so many tears to Jack, expected him to bottle them and place them on a shelf, a reminder to never hurt you again. He never did. The moon’s rays were a solace, an extended comfort from who knew loneliness better than anything. Soft fingers touched your arm, didn’t push—only rested there, a reminder of consolation.
“He’s like an older brother, huh?” Jackson tried to alleviate your melancholy, revive your playful spirit like a necromancer.
It only made you sadder. If only Jack were like an older brother, if only your heart hadn’t chosen him to beat for.
“Yeah,” you chuckled dryly. “Let’s be glad he won’t be there tomorrow.”
A bright grin tugged on Jackson’s lips. “So you’re coming?”
You smiled.
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10:15.
The bright light of your phone screen cut through the darkness as you walked up the sandy driveway to the beach house. The departing rumble of Jackson’s 4Runner interrupted the ballad sung by the cicadas and crickets, a sound that followed you all the way to the front door. Sliding your sunflower-adorned key out of your pocket, you fiddled with the lock before finally managing your way into the house. The biting cold of the summer night was promptly chased away by the inviting warmth, but you found yourself unwilling to remove Jackson’s green cardigan. Plastic buttons twirled between your fingers, a few stitches unraveled. Well-worn, loved—smelled like summer nights and escape. You smiled to yourself.
The hum of the TV, along with its vibrant glow startled you as you crossed into the living room area. Despite the somewhat early time, you hadn’t expected anyone to be awake. But there Luke was, curled up on the couch, watching Grease. You could have laughed if you weren’t more aware; Luke had always had a major small crush on Sandy, his guilty pleasure movie, one that came with summer nights and hours talking into the AM. Rounding the foot of the couch, you plopped down next to Luke, startling him out of what appeared to be oncoming sleep.
“Back already?” he asked groggily, clearing the gravel out of his throat. He straightened, blinked a few times. “I take it you didn’t get laid.”
You glared at Luke, silently cursed his teenage-boyishness. “Not everyone fucks on the first date, dick,” you retorted, smiling. “Someone here gave me a curfew. Said he’d come looking for me if I didn’t come back in time; I wasn’t too keen on testing him.”
Luke rolled his eyes. “Cockblock,” he muttered. “Which of them was it? Quinn? He seems like the type.”
“The other one,” you corrected, earning a confused look from Luke. “Exactly! That’s what I thought. Also, did you ask Jack to ask me when I’d be home?”
“No,” Luke drawled, raising an eyebrow. “Why would I?”
That son of a bitch.
Was he just dead set on denying you happiness? Why couldn’t he just admit to caring even a little about you? Why dress up good deeds as the requests of others? Nothing about Jack made sense; it never had. You supposed that was part of the appeal, the mystery of it all. A puzzle gathering dust on the shelf, tried and forgotten for its difficulty. You’d always had a knack for choosing the hardest games.
You waved Luke off, not wanting to hear his conspiracies tonight. Maybe tomorrow, when you didn’t have the weight of a thousand unanswered questions close to caving in your chest. “Nothing,” you said. “Are Quinn and Jack awake?”
Luke eyed you. He saw through you—always had. Yet, for the sake of your dwindling sanity, chose silence. “Quinn isn’t, no,” he told you. “Went to bed like an hour ago.”
“Old man,” you commented, earning a laugh. “And Jack?”
Luke’s eyes flickered to the door leading to the back porch. A warm orange glow was visible through the drawn curtains. “He’s in the pool, I think.”
You nodded. Came to a resolution in your withering heart. “Right,” you murmured, standing. Before departing, you pressed a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “Night, Luke. Go up to your room, if you fall asleep here, I won’t be able to carry you to your bed.”
Luke rolled his eyes, nudged your leg with his knee. “How unfortunate.” Then, he stood, and disappeared up the stairs.
Dread swarmed in your stomach like a tornado, wrecking every defense you’d built up these past weeks to keep out a certain boy. You feared damage control wouldn’t be enough this time, that you couldn’t rebuild if Jack shut you down now. But you had to confront him, had to at least tell him to stop controlling you if nothing else. This summer was meant to be your closure, the final chapter in a book you never thought would end. It felt more like the procession to the grave, not the closing of a door.
What if losing your love for Jack lost you him?
The back door swung open with a squeal, piercing the once thick silence. With your presence swiftly outed, you forewent attempting discreetness, and eased out onto the pool deck. Fingers of frost grabbed for your exposed skin, only combated by Jackson’s cardigan. Bones rattling, you wondered why on earth Jack was going for a swim right now of all times.
You heard the lapping of water, roused by movement, before you saw him. The fluorescent underwater lightning cut through the darkness and reflected on your face, a myriad of whites and blues that was distinctly Jack. When you came to the pools edge, your eyes focused on him—clad in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts—floating ok his back, eyes closed, as if imagining himself in a different place. You almost felt sorry to ruin the fabrication of his mind. Remembering your anger, you pushed aside the feeling. Why should he be given peace when he’d never given you any?
Before you could even open your mouth, his eyes opened, as if sensing you. He adjusted, treading water, as you merely assessed each other. Waiting. Who would draw first? You. It had always been you.
“I’m home now,” you bit out, your leash gone; Jackson wasn’t here to judge you. “Happy?”
Water lapped at Jack’s collarbones. You almost envied it for being able to touch him so freely. His eyes darted around you, then stopped on the cardigan. Forest green, like Jackson’s eyes. You knew he knew; you hadn’t been wearing it when you left.
“Cute,” he commented, sarcastic and dripping with cruelty you’d never heard from him before. He parted the water with ease, as if he expected everything to bend to his will.
Jack stopped where you stood at the edge. You looked down on him for once, a prick of pride stinging you as for once you had the high ground. For once, he wasn’t able to confine you with his overwhelming presence and being. Fingers curled around the edge of the pool, his hair dripping tears of chlorine-tainted water down his face, Jack merely watched you, waiting a scolding, the tantrum of a child who had what she wanted torn away.
You thought if unfair someone could be so beautiful, especially when he could never be yours.
“What is your issue?” you snapped finally, folding your arms, protecting your glass heart from his insults he’d fire like arrows. “I asked Luke, he said he never asked you what time I’d be home. Was it fun for you? To ruin my date?”
Jack scoffed. Arms corded with muscle flexed, rose from the water; a heave and he was on his feet in front of you, your leverage lost. Water bled off his body like a torrent, soaking your shoes. Droplets flicked on Jackson’s cardigan, the water staining through. You stepped back instinctively, throat tight. You hated how, even now, he had an effect on you.
“Ruin?” he echoed, eyebrows creased. “Don’t be dramatic. It wasn’t like you were planing on staying out with him past 10:30. I was doing you a favor, giving you an out.”
Classic Jack; thinking he knew better than everyone else. “You weren’t, actually,” you hissed. “I didn’t need an out, Jack; I was enjoying myself. So much so I’m going out with him again tomorrow night.”
That was unnecessary to say, you knew. A bite only given to wound him, to prove you were capable of rising from your knees and tearing down the shrine you’d devoted to him for years. Because if Jack Hughes was no longer your sun, you didn’t need to revolve around him—shine only when he was near. Pathetic and driven by childish need to probe yourself, you wanted Jack to hurt—even if you knew he never would, that he couldn’t care less about who you loved and who you were with.
You just wished that he did.
A flicker of confusion. A frown, and then, “What?”
“Jackson invited me to the beginning of summer beach bonfire,” you told him, watching Jack’s jaw tense. You wanted to look away, but couldn’t—he’d always been so encapsulating. “It’s tomorrow night.”
His presence invaded every defense you’d placed up. Chin tipped to look at him, you felt suddenly claustrophobic, as if boxed in—everywhere you looked was him. Deep breaths made each muscle of his chest flex and tense, well-sculpted from years of punishing activity. You hated the flush that almost burned your face. You hated the thunder of your pulse that drowned out any noise but your racing heart. You hated the effect he had on you.
“You aren’t going,” he said simply, as if he had any say.
You frowned. “Yes, I am.”
Jack’s lip wrinkled. Condescension dripped from his voice. “No, you aren’t.”
You could have strangled him. You really could have. “You aren’t my father, Jack. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m going.”
He smiled at you. Smiled like he thought you opposition was funny. “You met this guy this week, Bells,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Not only that, you have no idea who’s going to be at this bonfire. What if something goes wrong? You think Golden Boy is going to play the white knight?”
Ignoring what Jack had called Jackson, you turned to leave. You were absolutely not having this argument with him. Not when it was ultimately your decision and your life. Before you could even make it a step, a wet hand clamped around your arm, fingers closing around you like a vice—Jack spun you, unsteadying you. In an effort to save yourself a trip straight down, you threw up your hands, connecting palms with the rigid plane of Jack’s chest. Heat rose to your face, a feverish high sinking the logic of your brain. All of a sudden, you were sixteen again hoping Jack would come out of his room while you were in the hallway.
Breath deepened, you searched for an out—a way to defend yourself. The sword lying at your palms was cheap, but effective, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”
But you did know better. And you knew he wasn’t; you just wished he was.
Jack smiled. Predatory. “Of Jackson?” Fingers loosened—you took the chance to escape, pulling yourself free of Jack’s hold. “If you’re going to try and make me jealous, maybe do it with someone who doesn’t have my fucking name.”
He breezed past you, disappearing inside like a shadow.
You looked down. Eyes grazing the cardigan. A wet handprint stained the arm. Jack’s handprint.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆
Smoke thickened the air into a husky, palpable haze. Dozens of conversations overlapped into one massive dissonance, drowning out the harsh crash of waves upon the shoreline. Bathed in an amber glow provided by a massive fire housed upon a hearth of triangularly-laid sticks, the beach was alive with drinking and laughing and dancing. Sand cushioned your feet, sandals dangling in your hands. Jackson haunted your side, keeping close. He led you in deeper, parting throngs of people like the Red Sea. Greeting a few of them, introducing you.
Excitement turned your blood hot. Rebellion made it all the sweeter. Despite Jack’s vehement opposition against your coming here, you’d done it anyway. When the boys had decided to get a few drinks at the new bar that opened up, you feigned sun sickness as a result of a day at the beach. Whether or not they believed you didn’t matter much—they’d left, which allowed you the chance to be here.
All you had to do was be home before them, which shouldn’t have been difficult. They’d be home in the early hours of the morning.
Mingling with Jackson was simple enough—people didn’t much care who you were. Just that you existed. Beers were handed to you, drank quickly. You wanted to have fun, to let yourself exist without the shackle that was Jack Hughes dragging you back from any romantic venture. A heated hand slipped in your own; Jackson smiled at you. Stomach knotted in a ball, you downed the rest of your White Claw and grinned back.
“You feelin’ okay?” he asked, bending down to better carry his voice to you. The proximity of his face warmed your chest.
“Mhm,” you hummed, relishing in the head rush. Being drunk wasn’t something you did often, what with being underage. There were parts you hated, parts you sought. Like the current buzz of warmth that whispered false confidence through your bloodstream.
The confidence that made you lead Jackson to the water’s edge, hidden from the glow of the fire, shadows outlined by the light of the moon. Rosy-cheeked, you tossed your arms around Jackson’s neck and peered up at him. Although his countenance was lost in the darkness, you could make out blown pupils overtaking his eyes, parted lips lightly doused in alcohol. Water lapped at your feet, danced around your ankles. You didn’t care. Everything in your mind was screaming at you to just do it—kiss him and get it over with, get over with Jack.
Jack.
You hated that even in a moment like this, your mind went to Jack.
It was then—arms tossed around Jackson’s neck, the waves kissing your bare legs—that you realized you’d never let go of Jack. You couldn’t. He was too well in your heart, the patchwork of two souls. If you could, you would turn tail and run, find happiness on the road of abandonment. You wouldn’t have to worry about being alone, isolated simply because people found a piece of your life more interesting than the whole. You wouldn’t have to rebuild your shattered heart when another summer passed by without Jack loving you. You wouldn’t need to remind your heart not to give in to his toothy smile and infectious laugh.
But then, you wouldn’t have Jack. His smile, the devil’s disguise, a shot of oxytocin to the system. Touching of skin, unintentional yet entirely wanted, setting ablaze the wildfire that burned down your castle of wood. Nights spent by the pool, his face illuminated by the glow of underwater lights. The way he made your heart break and mend all at once, the high of a drug that you could never quit. Every time, you relapsed, reminded yourself why you loved Jack—why he was your favorite love, your only one. He didn’t want you for anything, he didn’t even want you.
And maybe it was that; the hypothetical, the possibility. The construct you’d built inside your head, trying to fit into the narrative every summer, but never getting the part.
“Jackson?”
He looked down at you. Green, not blue. Never blue. “Yeah?”
“I don’t think—”
All at once, your arms were falling, cradling empty space as Jackson was ripped away from your touch. A splash of water sent droplets launching into your skin and clothes. You shrieked, stumbled, looked for the culprit. And of course—there Jack stood, huffing, as if he’d run to you. You could barely make out his face, but you didn’t need to; you’d know him blind, by touch alone. Your eyes went down to Jackson, body engulfed in the shallow water. You pieced it together, came into the frantic understanding that Jack had pushed Jackson.
Immediately, you went to help Jackson, only to be tugged back by your elbow. “Jack! What the hell?”
He didn’t grace you with an answer—didn’t even look at you, actually. Those stormy blue eyes were on Jackson, murderous and heated. He shoved you behind him. “What are you doing, huh?” he barked. “Did you know you were giving a minor alcohol? She’s twenty, you fucking idiot!”
Tears of frustration turned your eyes wet, and air became scarce. You wanted to do something, but what could you even do? Jack was accustomed to ignoring you. Stares nipped at the back of your head. Conversation dulled into a lapse.
“Jack, enough,” you begged, the sheer desperation in your voice normally something you’d hate—you couldn’t be bothered to care now. “Please. I’m fine. It wasn’t Jackson’s fault. He didn’t do anything.”
“Stop,” Jack interrupted, eyes flashing to you, a warning. “I told you not to come. Stay out of this, Bells.”
“I had no idea, dude, I swear!” Jackson responded, pulling himself up from the water. Soaked head-to-toe, and dully embarrassed. “She did it herself, I didn’t offer her anything!”
It soured your mouth he was trying to shift the blame to you, even if he was being honest. Your eyes flicked to Jack, and all at once you were reminded why you chose to love him.
His hair was tousled, worked one too many times by frustrated fingers. Eyes wild and concerned, so raw that you could’ve convinced yourself he was that cut by your situation. You knew it wasn’t you; he was just a good person, an empathetic one. But still, you liked to imagine. You’d spent your life imagining what it would be like for him to love you.
“Jack, please, just—”
“Don’t you dare blame her,” Jack’s voice was strangled, as if barely bypassing a wall of fury. “What the fuck do you think this is? The blame game? I don’t care who gave her the alcohol. You brought her here.”
“Please, Jack, let’s just go,” you pleaded, voice tight—embarrassment crawled up your spine like the cold. Everyone was looking, observing the screaming match you’d unfortunately found yourself a part of. “People are looking.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he hissed, advancing on Jackson. Chest-to-chest. A size up; one you hoped wouldn’t result in traded blows. You’d never seen Jack so angry, so wrought with violence. He’d always been docile—kind.
“Why do you care?” Jackson finally snapped, shoving Jack backwards. You tried to intercede, only to be shut down. “She said she wasn’t your girlfriend. Stop acting like a jealous dick.”
Jack laughed. He turned around, facing you as he spoke. “She may not be mine,” he conceded, “but she sure as hell will never be yours.”
Everything was happening to quickly. Your mind struggled to process the entire interaction, how quickly it had all gone sour. Before you could question Jack, scold him, consider the root of his rage, you were being lifted by the middle, and promptly tossed over Jack’s shoulder.
Air fled your lungs, your head pulsed—both from the swift movement and your consumption of what was likely too much alcohol. Jack’s hand stayed on you, keeping you steady as he carried you through the crowd, cutting through blots of people who all looked just as confused as you felt. Anger sparked then, fanned by embarrassment and anger and frustration.
Slamming your fists into Jack’s well-muscled back, you spewed profanities at him. “Put me down, asshole!” He didn’t. Kept walking, over the boardwalk and into the parking lot. Jackson’s 4Runner taunted you. “Jack, let me go! Jack!”
And he did. Your feet felt unfamiliar as he placed you down with little preempt. He steadied you before you could fall, kept a hand on your arm even after. Your heart felt pulled in a million directions, throat filling up with sand—fossilizing in your own skin, mortification sawing pieces off of your soul. Jack looked furious, pacing in front of you. His silver Mercedes gleamed in the moonlight.
“Bells—” He cut himself off. His throat bobbed, ran a hand through his already messed hair. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Your teeth bared. “Me? And what about you, barging into my night and accusing my date of being a criminal? The fuck is wrong with you, Jack?”
Jack laughed. Mocking, mean. You half-wanted to punch him, felt the itch in your fingers. “Oh, forgive me for trying to help you,” he hissed. “What if cops had busted the bonfire, huh? If they’d got you? Do I have to remind you that you’re twenty, Bells? That’s a felony.”
He was right, and you hated it. “But did you have to do all that? Jackson didn’t even give me the alcohol, why did you push him into the water?”
“I already said I don’t care who gave it to you,” Jack grunted, closing in on you. A step back, and you felt your back press into the cold metal of his car. “He was with you. He let you drink.”
You rolled your eyes, tried to muster up a semblance of control. “He doesn’t know my age, Jack.”
“Then he’s a fucking idiot.”
Scoffing, you shoved him away from you. “Oh, is he? Or were we just on a second date, one that you completely ruined! He’s never going to speak to me again, Jack, so thank you for that!”
Faintly, you wondered how you went from adoring Jack to despising him. Maybe it was always meant to be like this. There was a fine line between love and hate.
Eyes flashing, Jack rounded on you. “A second date you shouldn’t have been on,” he snapped. “I told you not to go.”
“New flash: you’re not my keeper,” you said, feeling the anger wane into something worse—fatigue. You didn’t want to fight. Fighting with Jack felt like fighting a part of yourself. “How’d you even find me? You guys were at the bar.”
Jack paused; he noticed your deflated shoulders, sullen face. “SnapMap,” is what he said. He didn’t expand, and you didn’t ask him to.
Silence felt like the worse fog—thick and impenetrable, falling over you like a suffocating blanket. You didn’t know what to say. What could you even say? Jack would never tell you why he was so upset, you didn’t want to ask—didn’t want to hear another made up story he’d spew just to tear apart the hope in your heart.
It hit you then that maybe Jack did love you—or care about you in some capacity, but he’d never admit it. Dancing in circles, a choreography that never ended, you’d never know what Jack truly wanted; didn’t know if he even did. Probably figured you’d screw it up, would ruin a friendship—his and yours, yours and Luke’s. It was a losing battle either way. Every word he uttered cut to the bone, because it was meant to. When the shift started, you didn’t know. Maybe when he realized you were not always going to kneel at his alter, when you tried to escape.
Maybe then he understood, and still avoided—lied, all to protect himself and his brother. He knew, you knew. One wanted, the other avoided. None of it ended well. Heaven was breakable, and he couldn’t dare threaten his own peace. Not even to have you.
You knew then where you stood.
“Why?”
He shook his head, chewed on his lip. “Don’t.”
“Please, Jack,” you whispered. “You owe me an explanation.”
Did he not believe in love? Had a girl hurt him? Was it really Luke, or something else? Why wouldn’t he just try?
“Bells, don’t.”
Your hand reached out. Hoping, praying—it brushed his shirt-clad chest. He didn’t move back, finally looked at you. “You owe it to me, at least. I’ll drop it, I’ll never ask again.”
“We’d just… we’d screw it up,” he managed out, the blue of his eyes richening into a navy. His eyes darted around your face. “I can’t…”
What did it matter anymore? Everything was being bared. All of it. Your fear disappeared into dust; the yearning for a conclusion to this twisted knot of a love died. Just like it always did with Jack—you’d want him, try to forget him, and fail. A never ending loop. But before there had been no chance, now—now you weren’t sure.
“Can’t what?”
Jack didn’t respond. He dug into his pocket. Grabbed his key. “Get in the car.”
The stark change of situation caught you cold. “What—?” You shook your head. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity. “Jack, no. Talk to me. Please.”
“Get in the fucking car.”
You didn’t budge for a moment, then finally, “Okay.”
The drive was silent, thick with awkwardness. What could you say? You’d been so close to coming clean, to finally—after five years—admitting everything. It seemed like Jack had too, but something stopped him. Something always stopped him. You wished you could pick his brain, lay it all out to see the moment he’d stopped seeing you as a ghost, as Luke’s high school best friend. All because you’d tried to move on, because you’d hoped for happiness beyond his black hole persona. But of course, he always managed to drag you back in.
“It’s not fair,” you muttered aloud, semi-an accident. Jack’s eyes snapped to you, the dark road rolling out in front of you.
He worked his jaw. Adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What isn’t?”
“You,” you grunted, looking out the window. “I try to be happy, move on. You’ve never wanted me before, I didn’t think it would matter. But when I try, you turn it into World War III.”
Jack didn’t say anything. Barely even moved. You wanted to scream, to leap out of the car, if only to see if he’d care enough to come back for you.
“Why now, Jack? Why not before?” you whimpered. Alcohol made you pathetic, even more so than usual. “What changed?”
“Bells,” he warned, nostrils flaring.
“No,” you protested, swiveling your body his way. “I deserve an answer, Jack. Please.”
Silence still.
“Stop the car.”
Jack looked at you. Up and down, before his focus returned to the road. “No. Stop having a tantrum.”
That nearly sent you into a murderous rage. “Stop the car or I’m jumping out.”
Jack scoffed. “You’re not going to jump out of a moving car.”
You clicked off the lock. Fingers tested the handle. When you tore the door open, the alarm blared; wind whipped your arm as you gripped the door, the darkened road greeting your eyes. Thankfully, no one else was out this late. Jack grabbed you with his free hand, slammed on the breaks and veered off onto the side of the road, just beyond the dunes. Beachgrass surrounded the car, the distant buzz of crickets the only thing you could hear as Jack cursed at you. Unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door shut, Jack glared at you.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped. You felt something akin to pride; he finally had a reaction to something. Cared enough to stop you.
“You won’t answer me,” you said, eyes darting around his face. The emergency interior lights of the car blinked into existence, lighting up your bodies. Jack’s face was flushed, eyes wild. “Please, just—”
“Fuck, stop saying that,” came Jack’s strangled plead, his head dropping.
You blinked at him. Confusion welled like a storm in your eyes. “What? Please?”
Silence. Jack’s head raised lazily, he looked distressed, mouth parted ever so slightly. A hand ran through his hair, mussed it more. “Fuck,” he cursed, low and gravely. “Luke is going to kill me.”
What was he on about? He looked like he was struggling, his hand gripping the steering wheel which such force his knuckles blanched. “What?”
“You’re his best friend,” Jack said. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. “If I… Bells, please…”
You had no idea what to do. What to say. “Jack, what do you mean? You aren’t making any sense.”
“I want to fuck you,” he bit out, leveling you with a furious look, as if he hated himself for that very fact. “But I can’t. If Luke found out, he’d hate you, or me, or us both. I can’t risk that, Bells, I can’t.”
He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. The very fact that he wanted to sleep with you sent you into a dizzy spell; normally, you would’ve wept with happiness at the sheer fact that Jack Hughes wanted you, in any capacity, but all you felt now was a resounding emptiness. He wanted to fuck you, to have you carnally, without anything attached. You loved him; not because he could give you brief pleasure, but because you knew how many freckles were on his back, how he drove with his left hand predominantly, how he quoted Camus but never actually read him.
It occurred to you then that this summer was different. Not because you were getting closure, or because Jack Hughes finally loved you back, but because you finally understood that the devotion you’d put in him for years should have been put in yourself.
You looked at Jack, and for once, didn’t feel that biting desire to touch him, to be wanted by him; now you knew you were, but for what? For once night, just to fade into obscurity? Either you had Jack entirely or not at all. You couldn’t tease yourself with a taste only to never be given the full experience. You didn’t think you’d survive the memory of it.
“I love you,” you said. Watched his reaction. The confession felt like the greatest heartbreak and the biggest relief.
He said nothing back.
And you weren’t heartbroken that he didn’t. You were relieved. Free.
#jack hughes#nj devils#nhl smut#nhl#hockey imagine#hockey smut#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes x reader#luke hughes#quinn hughes#jack hughes smut#nhl imagine#nhl imagines#hockey
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he set my house on fire, you lit my heart ablaze; when the smoke cleared, you stayed, coughing up ash with me.
jh86 x reader: the revenge plot doesn't go as planned (ft. ex-fiance am34).
(warnings: blasphemous filth (it's on the tamer side, i think), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), spit and descriptions of bodies and stuff like that, hair pulling (big fan), lots of talk about toxic relationships and being mean and using people and sad moments (we can thank this fictional am34 for that), oh, and slight bullying of tz11). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: hello, favorites. thank you so, so much for your patience and softness. today i bring you a story that took me so, so long because i worked so, so hard on it (and it's really long! 14k worth). we have checked all the boxes: terrible ex-fiance am34, sweet boy jh86, schemes and plots and the like. no, i don't think any of these characters are like this in real life. no, nobody acts like this, but it's getting colder, so i think a lot of us are craving that gentle domesticity. and yes, i wish someone had shown up with flowers after i finished undergrad midterms. there's probably a ton of plot holes but shh! don't tell anyone. also tried out a new format, the smut is in the middle instead of the end, let me know how you feel about that. anyways, i miss you and i love you and i think of you often and fondly. i hope you and your snakes are doing well and knowing what you deserve and accepting nothing less. let me know what you think, what you want next, etc. go canucks, of course. oh, and no, i do not think it's a coincidence that all the guys i write about are having a great season so far (except the ducks that refuse to play). how could it be? definitely a causal connection. all my love to you. until next time).
since you were a young girl, you had known that your greatest motivation, your deepest truth, perhaps your fatal flaw, was just how deeply you felt.
when you were little, that meant tears came easily, anger festered like weeds in a prized garden, and happiness felt like flying.
it also meant you could read others' emotions almost as clearly as your own.
it made you different, it made you a good friend, it made you the person you were. for much of your life, you had made peace with the fact that your well of emotions went deeper than others. you had loved that part of yourself, even.
but the night you broke off your engagement to auston matthews, you wanted nothing more than for everything you were feeling to disappear, to evaporate into the air as if it had never been.
"you couldn't've at least tried to hide it from me?" you had said, willing your fragile voice not to break.
and he had sat at the kitchen counter, that massive body on the stool that you had carefully selected for the house that you shared, that you thought you would share forever. and he had sighed, sounded almost annoyed. "would that have made it better, angel?"
his indifference coated your bones like lead paint. that name, once one you felt would call you out of a coma, would lead you out of hell like a northern star, now felt like nothing but a condescending, patronizing taunt. silly, stupid angel, the god might as well have said, how could you think you could ever be enough?
understanding settled like ash on your eyelashes. "you think i'll forgive you," you said, little more than a whisper. "you think i won't leave."
he scoffed at that, then. at you. "and go where?" he asked, sounding almost genuine. "where do you have to go?"
how superficially he knew you, it seemed, at that moment. how had you not seen this before?
"you honestly think i could ever look at you the same?" you asked.
he shrugged, his shoulders so imposing, stature so suddenly frightening. a body you knew better than your own, suddenly foreign. a ghost. "maybe differently, but still looking," he said, "your eyes have only ever followed me, angel."
and maybe he was right, but you were done proving him so.
"send my things to my parents' place," you said, cold, devoid of anything. emotion welled up in you like a flood, but you froze it before it could crest through your mouth, come out like some mythical fire-breathing dragon. you slipped off your ring, placed it on the counter.
you didn't feel lighter without it, though. you felt so devastatingly heavy, like cinder blocks were tied to your ankles, like liquid stone filled your head.
"are you kidding?" he asked. to your silence, careful pause, he tilted his head, shook it once. "you're just gonna quit?"
your hands were shaking. you could feel rage rattle through your body, shake your bones. you clenched your fist so tightly you wondered if blood would drip from your palms, stain the light hardwood floor that you had spent so long deciding on. "how dare you," you said, begging your quivering lip to still.
his smirk was cruel. "not like it matters," he mused. "you've never been able to quit me."
you had seen him mean. on the ice, sometimes to journalists, sometimes to fans, sometimes to you, even. but this was past mean. this was past elementary bullying, past joking insults that don't land. he was trying to call your bluff, trying to push you into forgiveness, trying to hurt you.
"watch me," you said, your voice made of ancient rock.
"are you mad because she's hotter than you?" he asked, his brow contorted in false concern. "is that it?"
despite yourself, a small smile pulled at your mouth. a smile that made your eyes glitter. a smile that should have scared him. a warning.
"she is beautiful," you conceded, because she was. what good would it do you to deny that? you approached him, then, in his personal space for what you believed would be the last time. he turned to you, your eyes meeting in a clash, like sword on sword. cruel, brutal arrogance and pure, pretty wrath. you held the side of his face in one palm, the other hand resting on his shoulder. "but when a beautiful person hits on me, auston, i say no."
his eyes flickered down to your mouth, simmering with lust. you laughed at this, at him, raw and true, let pity soak your tone like acid. "i'm not mad at her, auston," you admitted truthfully. "i'm not even mad at you." you patted his cheek, perhaps a little harder than you needed to. "i'm just so disappointed."
that had been weeks ago. you had moved back to the states, so embarrassed on the plane at how you couldn't stop the tears from flowing, until finally you were back with your parents in new jersey. they had welcomed you so warmly, so easily. it had taken a few weeks for the tears to finally slow, for the utter devastation to fade, for your red eyes to brighten again.
at first, it had been hard to remember anything but how his embrace felt like home, how tightly he hugged you after games, how his eyes shone when he laughed, how he had teared up when you had accepted his proposal, how he had gushed about picking the right ring.
but as the sadness faded, as it festered into something much more serious, you remembered less of the fairytale moments, less of his perfect smile, less of the "pretty girl" utterances in his rough bedroom rasp. soon the sadness gave way to steely rage, to an almost bloodthirsty need for revenge. for him to hurt the way he had hurt you.
and no one does bloodthirsty like a group of university-age girls. after catching up with your childhood friends, and getting them caught up on your situation, you looked at your confidants with eager eyes. "what do i do?"
your best friend from high school spoke first, banging her fist on the table. "burn his house down?" she offered. "steal his dog?"
her friend from college put a gentle hand over her fist, "i think for now we try to avoid the federal crimes," she said, then turned to you. "when my ex cheated on me, i got with the lead singer of his favorite band." her eyes shimmered. "and then bought his dream car and wrapped it pink."
you giggled in delight. "oh, you're good."
your childhood friend nodded. "phycological warfare." she looked at you. "who's his idol?"
you thought for a moment, tapped your fingers on the table. "i don't know if idol is what i should be going for," you thought out loud.
"who's someone who would make him uncomfortable? insecure?"
"his dad!" your friend said, making you shake in a laugh.
"his biggest insecurity is the spotlight leaving and not coming back," you told them. you had known that for a long time.
"being forgotten?" your friend asked.
"being replaced," you said, your eyes widening with understanding. "with someone better. more promising." you shared a look with your friends, felt anger solidify into a plan. into hope.
"you look like you have someone in mind."
a memory flashed across your mind like a shooting star, engulfed in flame.
"how was the game, aus?" you had asked when he got home, stirring the pot of soup on the stove.
you heard some kind of grumble as he dropped his things in the mudroom, made his way into the kitchen.
"what's wrong?" you asked when you met his eyes, sensing something wrong like smoke in the air.
"just this young kid," he muttered. "'s nothing, really."
and you knew then that it wasn't just nothing, because he never tried to hide things from you, to diminish his feelings, unless it was really bothering him.
you turned the stove off, approached him, wrapped your arms around his middle and hugged him tight. "who's this new kid?" you asked, muffled by his chest.
his arms pulled your closer, tighter. this had always been where you felt warmest, safest. "some h name," he muttered. "hicks? hughes, maybe?"
you smiled into his chest, knowing him, and knowing he would never have forgotten the name of this kid. knowing auston matthews never forgets people who make him feel like anything other than the world's brightest star.
"whoever he is, probably just had the game of his life," you had said, your voice a comforting lullaby. you had pressed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "nothing to worry about, yeah?"
he had smiled back at you, but something dark had swirled behind his gaze. something like knowing, like ominous understanding, like an empire, falling. "already forgotten, angel," he had said, but you knew, even then, that he was lying.
the memory fizzed and dissolved like baking soda in vinegar.
you looked at your friends and smiled. "what do you guys know about jack hughes?"
from there it was surprisingly easy to shift from a tangent line outside jack hughes's circle to someone inside of it. you were patient, too, careful not to rush. you wouldn't settle for anything less than perfect, after all, refused to enact any plan that wouldn't end in exactly the revenge you sought.
one of the other wags from toronto, whom you had grown close to, insisted on helping, giving you the numbers of some friends close to the devils.
"i'm honestly so, so proud of you for leaving," she had told you over the phone, her voice nothing but genuine, knowing. "all of us, we all knew you were way too good for him."
"did you?" you asked, maybe a little shocked. having been so completely deceived, so absolutely blind, for so long, it was interesting that others had not been as deluded as you. to hear their perspective, to see what you had not been able to before.
"sweetheart," she said, gently, "everyone who meets you can see that you're good. that you deserve someone good." there was a pause. "and everyone also sees that he was never that."
you let her words settle like glitter on a childhood craft. "thank you," you said. "i miss you."
"we miss you so much. see you soon?"
you agreed, thanked her for her help.
"i hope he's good," were her closing words. "maybe better, at least."
having started classes with your old friends, intent on finishing the degree you had so quickly and thoughtless abandoned for auston, you had ample time to plot.
"feels like we're in a spy movie, or something," your friend had said excitedly.
"we'll be your guys in the chair," the other chimed in. "here the whole way."
the rest of the initial plan came easily, with the help of the people who were on your side, which you quickly learned was a group made up of more people than you thought.
very soon, it was time for step one, and you were in front of your mirror, having just finished getting ready, your friends by your side.
you took a deep breath. "what if this isn't a good idea?" you whispered.
they squeezed at your hands. "no going back now, okay? we'll be there the whole time."
"what if he's not interested?"
"look at yourself," one of them said, "don't be stupid."
"what is he thinks i'm a crazy stalker?"
your oldest friend shrugged, her eyes full of mischief. "what if you are?"
so you found yourself at a dingy, run down bar, the lights low. according to your contacts, this was where the team and their friends came after home games.
when was the last time you had come to a bar looking for something? for someone? it felt distantly familiar, but so strange, like hearing a language you spoke as a child but that hadn't graced your tongue in decades.
you had been with auston for years, after all, having met him when you were 19, him 23. a whirlwind, a tornado, a perfect tempest of pink dust and white teeth. a proposal two years later, a break off a year further.
you were 22 now, and had never felt further from your nineteen-year-old self. a foolish child, a delicate doll, a phantom cloaked in a desperate desire for acceptance, for love.
you didn't know how to flirt in this new body, new being. you didn't even really know to how flirt with anyone but auston - it had been so long since you wanted anyone else. and you didn't even really want jack, at this point. you just wanted justice.
a cluster of motion and noise behind you ripped you from your thoughts. you didn't turn, though, just stirred your drink, let the liquid settle again until you could see yourself in the reflection. until you could make out your eyes, until you could plead with your mouth to tell you what to say.
a game, the beautiful girl mouthed to you, a secret code, it's only a game.
your hazy eyes caught on a pool table in the corner of the bar, vacant, the lamp above it flickering. you smiled to yourself, made your way over, picked out a cue, ran your fingers along the edge of it.
you took a sip of your drink before setting it down, lining yourself up to break. with a swift, even motion, a pleasant cracking noise rung out, colorful balls moving in different directions.
you scrunched up your nose, having sunk none initially, gracefully lining up to go again when you felt a few figures approach.
the first one who spoke, the one right next to you, was not someone you recognized. you didn't even think he was on the team, but he had the build of a hockey player, probably a quick center.
"need a private lesson, there, sugar?" he asked sleazily, his voice the arrogant drawl of a child, almost endearing in its steadiness. he leaned on the table as you looked up at him, straightened, tilted your head to rest against the cue.
"awful kind of you, coach of the year," you teased before nodding to the other person who had joined you, looming across the table like a shadow. "gonna help me beat your friend?"
your new coach scoffed, ran a hand through his long, unruly hair. "trust me, sugar," he said, "you don't need any help beating him."
you locked eyes with the figure across the table, whom you had only seen before on a screen, the one you had heard about in the arms of your ex-fiance. here he was, the soft contours of his face shimmering in the dim light. the mythical and heroic jack hughes, the shaker of the unshakeable auston matthews.
he was shorter than you expected. "not much of a competitor, is he?" you asked the man next to you, talking about jack as if he wasn't right there. as if you hadn't been looking at him the entire time. "doesn't like to play?"
you tilted your head, dared him with your eyes to prove you wrong. the familiar fire of flirtation, of the chase you hadn't engaged with in years flared when he took a step out of the shadows, letting you see him clearly and up close.
during your research, you had seen pictures of him, but they didn't do him even a semblance of justice. he was gorgeous in a fairytale prince sort of way, like he might save the day with a true love's kiss at any moment. his eyes were a striking blue, his nose almost dainty, his jaw angular. your gaze caught on his full mouth before finally landing on his eyes again. he had the kind of complexion and expression you could tell lit up when he smiled. your stomach twisted at the thought. a game, you repeated in your mind. only a game.
"i'll play," he said simply, his voice goofy in a way you weren't used to. not sleazy, like his friend, who was currently behind you while you bent forward, lining up the cue. it wasn't the classic baritone you were used to hearing in auston, but something more cautious, something sweeter.
the game progressed, each of you sinking shots with the tell-tale soft thud. it was his long-haired friend, the one who kept calling you sugar like you were some southern belle, who was much closer to you, who was adjusting your hips and arm placement before each turn, who was flirting with you so openly, his breath hot on your neck, his gaze open and obvious.
even then, a quick exchange of glances with jack felt much more intimate than any innuendo-filled comment and fumbling touch from his friend. whenever jack would sink a ball, his eyes would flutter up to meet yours in a fleeting catch of flame, of promise, of knowing.
with only a few balls still on the green felt of the table, his careful voice broke you from your trance. "what are we playing for?" he asked, eyes alight.
the look you shared was teasing, probing, yet deadly serious. this is everything, the look said. are you ready to give everything?
"how about this?" you began, your tone light and smoky. "if you win, you get my number." his full mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smirks. "and if i win, i give it to him," you finished, nodding towards his sugar-spewing friend.
jack looked at his friend. "good with you, z?" he asked.
his friend, z, you guessed, let a cocky smirk drape across his face like velvet curtains. "more than good," he said, "as we're gonna win."
with the stakes agreed upon, the game continued until only the eight ball remained. you lined yourself up, your ever-so-involved coach just next to you as you called your pocket.
"have a game, sugar, here we go."
you ignored his friend's voice, lining your cue up perfectly, the smooth wood resting delicately between your fingers, the angle of your arm and neck smooth and sensual. everything about your preparation lent itself to a winning strike, everyone at the table knew it. you could feel it in z's early celebration, see it in the slight quiver of jack's hand.
bent over the table, in the final seconds before your strike, you peered up at jack through dark lashes, all dim light and foggy promise. you gave him a sly smirk as you followed through, the black and white ball missing the pocket by an inch, hitting the side of the table with a soft sound.
jack narrowed his eyes at you with a curious sort of look before quickly calling his pocket and immediately sinking the ball.
his friend sucked on his teeth before throwing up his hands in defeat. "christ, sugar, didn't take you for a choke artist," he said. "unless you're into that." he shot you a wink before heading off to grab a drink.
for the first time, it was just you and jack. you leaned on your cue, let your gaze fall over him lazily, in the same way you knew he was doing to you. he was close now, close enough that you could see how blue his eyes were, how long his lashes, how high and soft his features, how his hair was just a little too long on the sides.
"you let me win," he said, a gentle observation, not anything accusatory.
you smiled. "prove it," you said, to which a matching smile graced his own face.
"must be my lucky night, then," he said as he handed you his phone and you typed your number in.
you laughed. "i don't know," you mused, "you seem like a guy who's used to getting what he wants." and he did seem like that - who could say no to those pretty eyes?
he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, a motion you tracked. "'m a guy used to earning what he wants," he corrected, and you hummed. a distinction that auston had never made, even though he worked hard, sure. but he was a natural. what would it be like to be with someone to whom everything didn't come just so, so, easily?
"like to work for it, hm?" you teased.
his gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before returning to your eyes.
you stepped forward, pushed and poked at the imaginary line between the two of you. you looked up at him, gently swiped at his cheekbone with your thumb, felt heat rumble between the two of you, something volcanic. "don't work yourself too hard, yeah?"
without a second glance, you placed your cue against the table, grabbed your bag and made for the door.
on your way out, you overhead the conversation that had erupted in your exit.
"i was the one talking to her the whole time," that long-island-ish drawl said.
"if you think she was into you for even a second, you're an idiot," jack replied.
you swore the door was chuckling as it shut behind you.
everything had gone exactly as you'd hoped, exactly as you'd known it would, so you weren't at all surprised to receive a text the next day asking if you were around that night to get a drink.
so you found yourself at a different bar, this one a bit more upscale, quickly spotting jack as he waited for you outside. you blew out a breath as you approached, as a smile made his face glow. it was still so new to find someone else beautiful. when would you get used to his imperfect teeth, his oceanic eyes, his feminine nose, this greek sculpture opposed to autson's roman one?
you blinked. "hi," you said, suddenly feeling lame.
his mouth quirked. "hey." he opened the door for you, nodded. "after you."
"i'm gonna warn you," you started as you ducked past him and into the building. "i haven't been on a date in a while."
he shoved his hands in his pockets, a juvenile habit that made you blush. "find that hard to believe," he said, his tone playful. "pretty girl like yourself."
you scrunched up your nose at that. pretty girl. auston had called you that so many times, but for the first time you actually thought about its meaning. something flipped in your stomach at jack calling you pretty, but it was the girl part that had you pausing for a moment.
you were a girl, pretty much, you were jack's age, but you hadn't felt like one in so long. maybe it was being with someone a little older, but you felt almost ancient, so tired, so drained. but here you were, on a date, every bit the pretty girl he had deemed you.
you just laughed, taking a seat at the counter, smoothing out your dress against your legs. "real sweet talker, are you?" you joked, turning to him and meeting his eyes.
his mouth quirked like he knew something you didn't. "somethin' like that," he said.
the night went by fast, conversation flowing easily, no sign of pressure or anything of the like. you asked about his career, what he did that day, his family, his friends. he made you laugh, and it came so easily, so fluidly. he asked you about what you liked to do, what you were studying in school, how you were enjoying jersey.
surprisingly, you found yourself wanting to be completely honest with him, even though you couldn't be. you found yourself wanting to tell him everything, to answer any question he asked, to never leave him wishing or wanting even for a second.
you got hung up on the curve of his upper lip, on the slope of his shoulders under his button down, on his girlish laugh, his firefly of a smile.
the night was over too soon. too soon, you had the sinking feeling that you were in over your head, that perhaps you had chosen the wrong person for your revenge plot. you wanted to hurt auston, after all, but not yourself. certainly not this shimmery spark of a boy in front of you.
he walked you out, both of you pausing outside the bar, under the dull streetlight, a theatre spotlight for your praiseworthy performance.
you turned to look at him, and him at you, sinking into each others' gazes like quicksand, the air thick with expectation.
"i don't kiss on the first date," you blurted out, talking to his lips, talking to yourself.
he smiled, his shoulders rumbling in a laugh. "'s okay," he breathed, "like to work for it, remember, baby?"
you shook your head as your cheeks erupted in a delighted rosy flush. "goodnight, jack," you said, your voice every bit the giveaway. he returned the sentiment with a knowing grin.
the next day, you invited your girls over to watch him play. as you all settled on the couch, a homemade cocktail in your hand, you couldn't help but hide your face when the camera lingered on his profile during the anthem.
one of your friends gave a mock-salute. "god bless america," she said, shaking her head as you threw a pillow at her.
"alright," you chastised.
"what?" she asked, raising a brow, "just appreciating the wonderful offerings of our country."
your other friend shook her head. "you don't usually go for guys like him, eh?" she asked. "i mean, ever since we were in middle school you always went for the guys with biceps bigger than my face." she held her hands in front of her face for visualization.
"'s not like he's tiny," you said, almost embarrassed.
"no, no," she amended, "but he's no auston. he's just, i don't know, pretty."
you smiled, knowing exactly what she meant. auston was so masculine in every way, and jack was softer, somehow, pretty in a way you didn't usually go for.
pretty in a way that made you smile at your phone when he texted you the next day, asking if he could cook you dinner later that week.
you were blushing to yourself, the morning of, after he had texted you asking if you had any dietary restrictions.
and you didn't, but wasn't it just the sweetest, most thoughtful thing to ask? would you have even thought to ask?
i want you to be comfortable, his text said, i want you to laugh with your mouth full in my kitchen.
careful, angel, a deep voice called from the back of your mind, from the inside of your teeth. this is about me, remember?
your fingers twitched with the reminder as you stood on his front stoop, waiting for jack to answer the bell. the air had a brisk twinge of a chill to it, a chill that had your nose turning pink and your feet stiffening in your boots.
but he answered the door, and the breath you blew out rose between the two of you like a misty curtain, one you resented, because it distorted your view of him, even just so.
the mist settled, and his smile was left in its wake.
a smile that silenced all the gossiping voices in your head, left the throne of their malevolent king vacant, abandoned.
"you're here," he breathed, almost like he couldn't believe it, like he couldn't believe you.
"and it's your fault," you teased, scrunching up your nose.
he shook his head, laughed at some joke in his mind, stepped aside. "you must be freezing, baby, come in."
the butterflies in your chest soared as he helped you shoulder off your coat, his fingers leaving just a ghost of a touch on your wrist, the back of your neck, leaving scorched skin behind. you shivered, took in his graceful figure hanging your coat up on a hook by the door, let a smile come easily to your face when he turned back to you.
"what?" he said, grinning.
you let out a half-laugh. "nothing," you said, looking around as you kicked your shoes off. anything to avoid the white-hot light of his undivided attention. "i like your place."
and you did like it, truly, it was just so unexpected. homely, not cluttered, but definitely not the modern, futuristic, almost barren aesthetic you can come to associate with successful hockey players.
he flashed you a shy smile as he led you into the kitchen, bowing his head, making his hair fall into his face, almost bashful. "it likes you too," he told you, swinging his hand up to hit the top of the doorframe like a basketball-obsessed middle-schooler. you bit your lip to stop your grin.
what a pleasure it was to get to know all the most intricate and intimate manners of someone new.
"everything's almost done, now," he said, quickly turning off the stovetop and peering through the glass of the oven.
his tone was much more at ease then when you had talked to him before. he was at home here, and you could tell. he wore home like a hand-me-down sweater, too big in the shoulders and worn in the elbows, but lovely and familiar in all of its comfort.
you sat atop a stool at his counter, nervously rubbing the sole of one foot into the top of the other. "thanks for cooking, jack," you said, "you really didn't have to do anything fancy, or anything." suddenly, sitting here in this space, surrounded by the evidence of his effort, you felt guilt settle deeply into your body. unworthiness, perhaps, of the smell of food in the air, of the drink he had poured for you so gently, of the smile he kept throwing your way.
that voice in your head huffed. look at all this, he said, look at the burden you are.
and you were feeling it, so heavily, until jack took a sip of his own drink and waved you off, furrowing his brow as if confused. "'s how a date works, right, baby?" he said. he tilted his head, teasing, "tellin' me no one's ever pulled out all the stops for you?"
and you laughed, shook your head, because you supposed it was, supposed no one really had.
you got to know each other even better over the meal he had cooked, surprising you once again with how easy everything felt between you.
"tell me what you did today," he might say, his voice soft, muffled from chewing.
and you might tell him about your classes, how midterms were coming up, how you were nervous but felt pretty good about most of them.
maybe then you would ask about practice that morning, to which he would tell you some story about his teammates, how they were giving it to him all morning.
"why?" you might ask, to which he would look up at you with that bashful flush.
"'cause they knew you were coming over tonight," he admitted, pushing broccoli around his plate. "kept saying how i was probably gonna make you a box of kraft or something."
you laughed, a genuine rumble from deep in your chest, tilting your head back. when you looked back at him, he was looking at you with something like wonder.
and maybe later, you would ask what his favorite part of his house was, and he would say it was his wall of framed pictures, which would make you melt a little bit, your heart a puddle of feeling.
too soon, you were setting down your fork and knife, crossing and uncrossing your legs in restlessness.
"did you like it?" he would ask, his voice so full of hope it could have killed you.
so full of hope that you reached across the counter to hold his hand in yours, if only for a moment, to squeeze his fingers in meaningful emphasis.
your touch caught him by surprise, hesitant for a moment before locking eyes with you, simmering, then squeezing your hand back in his warm, callused grip.
a grip that said i'm no natural, but i'll work for it. for you.
"it was perfect," you said honestly, because it was. "but please, please let me do the dishes," you pleaded, looking at him through your lashes, just wanting to do something to help.
it would feel so wrong to be doted on for the whole night while giving nothing in return. at the very least, it would feel foreign.
he shook his head playfully, but relented. "you can help," he conceded, "but 'm not letting a pretty girl clean up my mess by herself."
you scoffed with a smile, squeezed his hand a final time before pushing yourself off of your stool, gathering all the plates and glasses in a single go.
"where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked, genuinely, as he followed you to the sink.
you carefully set everything down in a graceful swoop, let your lips quirk upwards in nostalgia. "once a waitress, always a waitress," you explained, referring to your short-lived stint at a busy restaurant in toronto before auston insisted on you staying home.
and at the time, even a little now, it was a sweet gesture, one you had taken as him wanting you to relax, wanting you to have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with your days.
you just secretly wished he had considered that what you wanted to do with your days was working, going to school, doing something for yourself.
jack leaned on the edge of the counter, his lopsided grin like an electric jolt to your heart. "what, did they show you the door 'cause you were making all the tips?" he teased, nevertheless making you blush as you washed the plates with soap. "not fair for everyone else, 's that it?"
you gasped in dramatic accusation, flicking sudsy water from your fingers his direction. "how dare you?" you exclaimed before turning away from him in a huff, feigning sadness. "'s not like i can control this face."
his mouth widened in shock, then took on a scheme-filled smile as soon as the water hit him, a short laugh escaping him. "you didn't," he said, dipping his hand in the soap and flinging some at you.
you squealed, holding your hands up to shield your face as he reached in for more, bubbles filling both of his palms. "wait, jack, i'm sorry!" you laughed. "i swear, i didn't mean to!"
"liar," he cooed, his gaze sparking like a lighter, you swore you could hear the clicking sound. then he was right in front of you, only a breath apart, so close you swore you could feel the beat on his heart in your own chest.
he reached down and gently held your face in his hands, the soap now all along your jaw and cheeks.
you closed your eyes for a second, sighed in defeat, still so aware of him so close, of his touch, feather-light on you skin.
when they opened again, you both had not moved, frozen in place, perhaps willed by the moment, compelled by the growing sensation of rightness, of being exactly where you were supposed to be. when he spoke, he was speaking to your lips, dragging his gaze back up to your eyes like it weighed something stark.
"do you kiss on the second date?" he breathed, and your breath caught, your heart stuttering at his utter politeness, his thoughtfulness, the idea that he remembered things you had told him.
you bit your tongue, because, if you were being honest, you usually didn't - you took the rule of threes very personally. you liked to take your time, savored that lovely period of what could be. besides, you had learned the hard way what happened when you let people in your life too quickly, too hastily. you knew all too well that giving in to a toothy smile and a sleeve of tattoos only led to shrugs met with tears.
but here, now, with jack's soapy hands on your face, in the space he had so warmly accepted you into, you had the feeling this boy in front of you was going to be an exception. that he would be an exception for many things, perhaps the exception.
as if hearing your internal dialogue loud and clear, he dipped his head down until he was impossibly close, so when he spoke you could feel the words on your lips.
"please let me kiss you, baby," he pleaded, his eyes hooded and heavy, his voice a rasp.
deciding he was an exception indeed, you answered him by pressing up on your toes, meeting his mouth with yours in a kiss that bruised.
and later, you would think about how auston had never been a please let me kiss you man, instead he had been a give me a kiss, angel kind of guy.
after, you would think about how it felt so much more personal, so much more sweet to be asked please, can i instead of being ordered give me, give me, give me, like a demanding, red-faced child.
later, you would think about how the previous kisses in your life paled in comparison to the feeling of jack's lips on yours. how before this moment, you were used to kisses that felt like transactions, like the necessary box being checked before the next step, how they felt like being swallowed.
after, you would swoon over all the details and nuances, but, right now, there was nothing but his lips, his hands, the way he melted into you and practically whimpered when you kissed him harder.
kissing him didn't feel like being swallowed, it felt like taking the biggest deep breath of your life after slowly suffocating for years. you forgot you had soap bubbles all over your face, you forgot about auston, you forgot about everything - there was only him, and you, in this moment.
he held your face like you were something precious, moving one hand into your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. he tasted like lemon and rosemary, as well as something so deliciously him you could feel yourself become addicted immediately.
his grip in your hair was soft, and when his lips moved against yours it felt like melting snow in the warmth of the morning, pure and sweet and natural and right. kissing him felt like waking up with sunlight streaming through the windows, like laughing while taking your makeup off, like cinnamon and clove and home.
when you pulled away from him, only just slightly, both of you catching your breath heavily, he opened his eyes slowly, almost reluctantly. his eyes were almost glazed over, and you had a feeling yours looked in a similar way, syrupy and hot.
he gently swiped his thumb along your swollen bottom lip as if testing to make sure you were real, not just some shadow, not just a dream.
you traced your nails along his neck, smiled as he brought his hands down to wrap around your middle, resting them on the small of your back.
"god, you're just so fucking pretty, aren't you?" he breathed, like a revelation.
you swore he had your head spinning for days after, days you unfortunately and cruelly had to spend apart due to a week-long road trip for the team.
you told yourself it was a good thing that he was going away for a bit, as it would give you a second to regroup, to revaluate, to familiarize yourself with what your initial goal was for your plan. you reminded yourself over the week apart that jack was a means to an end, that whatever had blossomed between the two you had a finish line, that all of it was meant to make a point, then hopefully leave this whole hockey world behind after the damage had been done.
but then one of your girls would throw on the game, and jack's expressive face would fill the screen, chewing on the fingers of his gloves during warm ups, and your heart would sink at the thought of leaving him behind. and it just about combusted at the idea that you were using him, even though that's exactly what you were doing.
you've only been on two dates with him, only kissed once, you reminded yourself. he's probably seeing other people, anyways, probably with some other girl right now. it's not like you're exclusive. this is probably not a big deal to him.
the thought was comforting but also devastating, a brick in your stomach.
while he was away, midterms came and went. as you walked into your last one, you thought about maybe texting jack after, trying to get together tonight, since he would finally be back.
then your pen hit the paper and time passed in a blur.
you exited the lecture hall in a flurry of relief and pride, happy to have accomplished something so concrete, something that you had truly worked hard on.
walking down the stairs outside of the entrance, your smile stilled, frozen in shock, when you looked up from your feet and saw a familiar, beautiful figure leaning against his car, an excited grin on his face, flowers in his grip as he locked eyes with you, making your breath catch.
"is that jack hughes?" some kid from your class said altogether too loudly to his friend. you had seen that same kid wearing devils gear more than once.
his friend didn't look up from his phone. "who's jack hughes?" he replied.
you couldn't stop your disbelieving laugh, your smile, already making your cheeks sore as you finished descending the stairs, until you were in front of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him in for a hug before you even realized what you were doing.
this was so unlike you, really, letting yourself feel as deeply as you could without filtering it, but anything else would have felt so wrong it could have killed you. especially when he brought his arms around you without even a second's hesitation, held you tight and close, so you could feel the petals of the flowers on the back of your neck.
"you're here," you said, breathlessly, still shocked, into his firm chest.
"had to make it back for your last test," he said into your hair, both of you not wanting to let go.
"how did you know?" you murmured, pulling away from him, only slightly.
he loosened his embrace, pulled away to get a look at you, let his eyes run over you carefully, indulgently. he pushed your hair back from your face, his touch gentle, like you were a relic, something worth treasuring. "you said so, last week," he said simply, like it was obvious.
he said it as if, for years of your life, you had wished and yearned so reverently for auston to remember the little things, like your coffee order, like the dates on which your parents were coming to visit, like your anniversary.
he said it as if it didn't mean the entire world that he had listened, that he had remembered.
you only leaned into his chest, looked up at him with something seriously dangerous in your eyes, something that was not supposed to be there. "'d you bring me flowers, jack?" you asked, a playful note in your tone.
he flushed, so lovely, hid his face behind the bouquet, peeking only one deep blue eye out, as if embarrassed. "too much?" he asked, still shielding his face.
you laughed, squeezed his bicep lightheartedly. "just enough," you assured him, your eyes full of meaning, willing him to lower his shield, let you see the face you had been dreaming of all week. "thank you. i missed you."
you would have told him that a thousand times just to see the way his whole face lit up, like he could never hide how happy your words made him. he wore the late afternoon sunshine like a dream, the dewy rays dripping down his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, slow and golden as honey.
he had this way of making you feel like you were first choice, every time, and it was so foreign that you hadn't known you had been craving it until he had laid it at your feet like an offering. every time he texted you to check in, to ask how your day was, to finalize plans, it would send a flurry of butterflies swarming your chest, a rosy flush to the bridge of your nose.
he was so, so beautiful, inside and out, that you effectively forgot what the whole point of your plan was in the first place. you basically had forgotten about it, that day that he dragged you along with some of his friends to pick out a christmas tree.
"do i know any of these friends?" you had asked on the way up, riding shotgun, reaching over periodically to run your nails along his neck, just below his hairline, your way of saying i'm happy you're here. and he would reach over and rest his hand on your thigh, not possessive, just a reminder of your presence. a reminder that made your insides twist with want, nonetheless, that made your gaze simmer.
one of the things you appreciated so genuinely about jack was that he didn't rush you for even a second, so happy to go at whatever pace made you most comfortable, whatever pace would keep you around the longest. it felt almost wrong that his acceptance of a slow pace made you want to speed things up, made you want to know what he felt like in your hands, what sounds he might make if you teased him, what his voice would sound like in your bed.
he let out a rumble of a laugh at your question, shaking you from your daze. "you'll definitely recognize one of them," he said. "though i don't know if he's fully recovered from your last meeting."
"oh no." you paled. "not him." you winced, thinking about how you had probably bruised his inflated ego. not beyond repair, though, you knew. for guys like that, never beyond repair.
jack traced circles on your thigh with his thumb in affirmation. "don't worry, baby," he said, "told 'm to be on best behavior."
when you arrived, you recognized that boisterous voice immediately.
"so good to see you again, sugar," he drawled, his tone especially toying.
you decided to cut any hard feelings immediately, going up to him and giving him a quick hug in greeting. "i think i owe you a thank you, coach of the year," you said, pulling away with a smile.
luckily, he seemed to forgive quickly, even to appreciate your efforts. "i prefer my thank yous in hot chocolate form," he said, and you promised to fulfill his request later. he gave you his name in exchange for yours.
you spent the afternoon leisurely ambling around the grounds, looking at potential trees, but really just enjoying the company of those around you.
most of the time, you spent laughing, tucked into jack's side, finding warmth in the firm feeling of his hip against your waist.
"what about this one?" trevor asked, holding up an especially short and stout one.
the two of you decided jack would need a taller one to better suit the ceiling proportions in his living room.
walking around, it felt like you were in your own dreamy winter wonderland, in a fog of laughter and warmth and a million other beautiful things.
"you leave again tomorrow?" you asked at one point, unable to hide the slight disappointment in your voice. you peered up at him, your eyes warm, your cheeks rosy from the cold.
he met your gaze and nodded, hugged you tighter into his side. "back in a few days," he said.
you couldn't help but pout just a little. jack's roadtrips felt longer and more lonely than auston's ever had.
jack ran his thumb along your bottom lip. "what's that for, baby?" he asked.
you shrugged. "just gonna miss you, 's all," you told him honestly.
something sweet bubbled up in his gaze, but the moment was effectively interrupted by trevor's voice coming from behind you, now shockingly close.
"oh?" he said, dramatic, "what's this? is that - mistletoe?" he emphasized all of his words with dramatic pauses. you briefly thought that maybe, if he hadn't been all in on hockey, he would have made an excellent theater kid.
you both turned to find trevor standing right behind you, holding an alarmingly large branch of something that resembled mistletoe.
"where did you find that?" jack asked his friend.
"never mind that," trevor said, waving him off.
you elbowed jack lightly. "looking for an excuse not to kiss me, are you?"
he shook his head incredulously, as if you had said something funny. you were about to tease him again, but he didn't give you the chance, immediately taking your face in his hands and angling his head down slightly to meet you in a kiss that seared every bit of chill from the air.
would you ever get used to this? would his lips ever not feel like they belonged on yours? would your heartbeat ever not thrum, like some perfect harmony?
the warmth of his hands on your face, the security of yours against the plane of his chest, all of it, everything - it was so perfect you wanted to stay here, just like this, forever. and the thought didn't even scare you as want began to pool inside of you, hot and heavy.
a mixture of a cough and a laugh had the two of you pulling away from each other. one of jack's other friends who had tagged along let out a low whistle, making you blush deeper.
jack just slung a heavy arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
luckily, trevor's attention had already strayed, as he was now holding the branch over his own head and the head of the other friend. "don't fight it!" he was calling out as the friend broke out into a light gait.
"get away from me, you scumbag," the poor kid called out over his shoulder.
your eyes were stuck on jack's face, still hazy from your kiss. he turned to you, his mouth quirking up. "staring, baby?" he said, low enough for only you to hear.
you nodded, shameless. "want you," you told him plainly, barely recognizing the tone of your own voice.
the fire in his own eyes welled up as you placed your hands flat on his chest. "fuck, now, baby?" he asked, looking around to where his friends chased each other around.
you bit your lip, pleaded him with your eyes. "please, jack," you said, "please take me home."
he took your hand in his immediately, tossed some parting words over his shoulder to his friends, who paused, watched the two of you stumble into jack's car with urgency.
as he started the engine and pulled away, you heard a faint the hell are we supposed to do with this tree?
the car ride back felt longer than it really was, both of you practically buzzing with want. you kept a hand in his hair, his palm planted firmly on the inside of your thigh, close but not close enough.
you let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the driveway, let him pull you into the house, push you up against the closed door, kiss you again with heat and force and somehow, such softness.
it was the softness that filled you with want. his desire was obvious, especially when he pressed his hips up, hard against you, but that didn't mean he wasn't just so gentle with you, so in tune to what you wanted.
you fisted your hands in his hair, pulled until his posture faltered, until his lips parted further and he moaned into your mouth.
you hooked a leg around his hip to bring him closer, relished the way he began to rock against you.
"fuck, baby," he breathed out, strained, stuttering in places, "don't wanna fuck you against the door."
later, you would think about how auston had never had such a problem. he had never cared where you were, how uncomfortable a position had made you. sometimes you had thought he found his own bed boring.
but jack just pulled you into his room, lightly rocked you back onto the bed, pressed soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, your stomach. you both pushed and pulled clothes aside, looking to give the other as much access as possible.
"so fuckin' pretty," he mumbled against your stomach, making you flush all over.
"please, jack," you whined as he slowly dragged his fingers through your folds, making you shiver.
"what do you need, baby?" he asked, pumping himself a few times, up and down, his voice low and rough.
you sat up for a moment, took hold of his hand, peered up at him through your lashes as you spit into it.
he groaned, ran his hand over his cock, now glistening with your spit. desire glowed in your eyes like fireflies. "tell me," he begged.
you laid back on the bed again, the smell of him everywhere. another time, you would insist on feeling him in your mouth, maybe on feeling his mouth on you, but you knew the both of you were far too desperate for that.
"just need you inside me, baby, please," you said, your eyes raking over his figure above you, all gentle slopes and hard lines together.
"ask me so good, baby, so good for me," he said, a careful rasp. he thumbed your clit, making you jolt, dragging his fingers through you again before bringing them to his mouth. "and so ready, hm?"
you nodded feverishly, your mouth falling open as he finally pushed into you, his groan deep.
you whined, the stretch so surreal as you reached forward to grasp at his forearm, anything to ground you.
staying still in the stretch for a second, you waited for the feeling to weaken, but it didn't, not really.
he dropped his head, his exhale coming out shallow, the muscles in his shoulders constrained.
you tightened your grip on his forearm, let your nails dig into him to pull him back to you.
"fuck, baby, i can't," he bit out, "can't, i swear."
you rolled your hips back and forth, trying to will some movement from him. "please, jack, please move," you begged. "please fuck me, baby."
never one to deny you, he began a slow pace, the friction and depth almost unbearable. one of his hands dug into your hip, so hard you could feel bruising, the other beginning to rub careful circles on your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.
"you're so deep," you choked, "faster, baby, need you faster."
he obliged, picking up the pace of his rhythm, moving his hand faster against your clit, making that wave well up within you, forcing moans from your throat.
"fuck, sound so pretty, baby," he said, a glistening sheen now painted across his brow, his collarbones. "so pretty, squeezing me so perfect."
the muscles of his stomach began to contract as you felt yourself dangerously close.
his rhythm continued, bruising in depth and force, so lovely in softness. you tugged his hand from your hip, placed his fingers on your tongue, desperate for something to do with your mouth. you sucked, pulling a guttural moan from him. "don't stand a chance when you do that, baby, swear," he said, "fuck, don't stand a chance with you, hm?"
you felt yourself smile around his hand, your eyes watering, glazed over.
"gonna make me cum, baby," he whined, his motions becoming jerky, his voice little more than a plea. "cum with me, baby, hm? make me feel so good, yeah?"
you fell over the edge at his words, felt his orgasm follow yours almost immediately, the air warm and sticky around you. he collapsed on top of you, his exhales like liquid on your skin, yours like dreamy sighs as he pulled you to him, held you close as you waited for the rise and fall of your chests to settle.
he drew his fingers lazily around the flesh of your thigh, your hip, you pushed his hair back from his face as you both fought sleep, wanting just a few more seconds in the conscious presence of the other.
everything was so lovely you could barely stand it.
you should have known it wouldn't last long.
a day into jack's time away, you received a text from one of your friends in toronto. it was a picture from auston's instagram with the message just thought you should know. we miss you.
something cracked in your chest at the photo of your ex-fiance and this new girl. it wasn't really jealousy, definitely not desire, no, it was harder to pinpoint.
maybe it was the fact that after four years of being together, and after a whole year of being engaged, auston had never once even thought about posting a picture of the two of you.
and you had always chalked it up to the fact that you didn't have any social media, but now, you realized there was something to be said about letting the world know that you were taken.
and you also knew, now, that that was a statement auston had been unable to make your entire relationship.
a voice in the back of your mind, tone watery with tears, wailed. what makes her so special? it pressed. what makes her so much better than me?
it didn't help that she looked absolutely nothing like you. you wondered passingly if you would have preferred a look-a-like to be staring back at you through your screen. you didn't really know, but you did know that her features were sharp to your soft, your eyes are hair completely different in coloring. her face had you questioning if he had ever really found you beautiful, or if you had been the exception to his regular type. the idea weighed heavily on your shoulders like a cape made of cement.
but you knew, at the end of the day, that it was not about her.
and so you decided that as much as your relationship with jack had become genuine, maybe it was time to bring back the plan, just a little.
it can be two things, you told yourself, jack doesn't need to get hurt.
so when jack arrived back from the road, your relationship now teetered on a tightrope, balancing between two things, two motives like a trapeze artist.
still, you tried your best not to let your desire to rip out the heart of your ex-fiance stand in between you and jack. you could be bloodthirsty and gentle at the same time, you told yourself. two things.
the idea became easier when jack began to ask you to come to his games.
at first, you had been skeptical. auston hadn't wanted you there until maybe a year and half into your relationship. you didn't want to push this, press your luck, make yourself a burden, in fear of him abandoning you.
"are you sure you want me there?" you had asked the first time, a little timid, your face resting on your clasped hands, sitting at his kitchen counter, keeping him company as he made something on the stove.
he had turned to you, head tilted, confused. "of course i do, baby," he had said, calmly and clearly. "i want you everywhere i am."
and that had been the end of that.
so you began to become a regular attendee at his games, getting to know the people of his life more closely, becoming a fixture in his life more solidly.
you let him post a picture of the two of you, so touched that he would even ask. he showed you the post when he was done.
you kissed his shoulder in response. "your eyes are closed, jack," you said, half-laughing at the fact that he had chosen this picture, so flawed in nature.
"hm?" he looked at the picture again, then shrugged. "hadn't noticed. no one's gonna be looking at me, anyways."
you shook your head, disbelieving. he was making it hard for this to be two things. he was making it really, really hard to care if your ex-fiance even saw this post. he was making it really hard to care about your ex-fiance at all.
"i don't believe you, sometimes," you mused aloud.
he twirled a lock of your hair, mesmerized. "how?"
you tilted your head back to allow him easier access. "you're pretty perfect, you know that?" you smiled up at him, blissful. "too perfect."
seeing his face go pink with your praise made you make a mental vow to tell him more often.
and he gave you every opportunity to be surprised by his perfection, over and over.
every kiss was something teenage you would have dreamed about, every time he led you into his bedroom was something current you dreamed about. how he seemed to enjoy every moment no matter what you were doing, even how clearly he communicated with you during your first fight, all of it astounded you.
he made all of your friends jealous, but so happy for you. he met them, one time, when he dropped you off to get coffee with them after class.
he was so respectful with them, asked them genuine questions, but never anything that told you that he wasn't in on you one hundred percent.
when auston met your best friend in toronto, he had dropped your hand that he had been holding.
"didn't tell me she was so pretty, angel," he had said, and you had hoped it was just to show you he was putting in an effort to impress the people that were important to you.
when jack said he had to be going, to get to morning skate, he just kissed your cheek. "use my card, yeah, baby?" he called out, waiting for your nod and smile before he drove away.
how had you stumbled into this? was it possible that it wasn't too good to be true?
jack had asked you to come to toronto when the devils headed up north to play the leafs, because he knew you had lived there, because he had lived there, too, and wanted to show you around. and it had reached a point where refusing him when he offered a piece of himself to you seemed cruelly impossible.
you told yourself that it was just another game, just another day. it helped that you honestly didn't feel any attachment to this rink, even to this city. you had watched jack play plenty, now, and you were determined to treat this game just the same as any other, if not rooting for jack with just a little more urgency, a little more emotion.
you loved how easy he was to cheer for. you loved how you could see how much he loved the game, how he smiled after every good play, how he saw things you could have never seen on the ice. you could practically hear his laugh in the rafters, see his imperfect teeth in the glass. he was everywhere, here, are you loved it.
of course, you noticed that your ex-fiance was here, but it honestly wasn't even that bad. if anything, it was confirmation that you were over him, that what you had with jack was real, that you weren't in for revenge anymore. you weren't in this for auston at all.
until he scored, and his goal song echoed through the arena. you knew that this year, the leafs had decided to try out individual goal songs after players scored, songs that they chose before the season started.
you did not know, however, that auston matthews' goal song was the song that, months ago, was set to be the soundtrack to your first dance.
the crowd was eating it up, of course they were, the juxtaposition of auston's dynamic scoring ability with the old-fashioned crooning of you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.
the song seemed to reverberate off of the walls, into your head, behind your eyes, where it settled like thick fog. it smelled like champagne, waxy makeup, hairspray. your eyes began to water, which made your throat constrict.
like a dream, maybe a hazy memory, your first dance that never was flashed across your mind. an ornate, almost gauche white dress, the beautiful heels you had been practicing to wear. his pressed suit, slicked back hair, stupid designer socks that used to make you laugh. his hand on your waist, your arms around his neck, the two of you lost in each other, swaying, swirling around the floor to this song, surrounded by loved ones, high on laughter and the future and love.
slowly, the image blinked out of your vision as the song faded and the puck dropped, play starting up again.
it blinked out like a dying star, and then it was exactly that. dead.
because as you trained your eyes back on the ice, never once did they stray from 86 in red. never once did anything like regret or nostalgic desire well up in your heart, because you were not the one who lost. you were not the one with something to prove.
finally, you buried that wedding dress, laid it six feet under, let the soil spoil it, knowing one day you would wear a white dress and it would mean something to both parties involved.
in a breath, the game ended, and jack won, and he was truly all you were thinking about.
waiting for him, though, practically bouncing up and down, you were suddenly pulled into a side hallway by a grip you would recognize anywhere.
you were not surprised to look up and see the calculating eyes of auston matthews looking down at you with some lethal combination of heat and arrogance.
"angel," he said, a greeting that made you grind your teeth.
you pulled your arm away from him, shook him off of you, willed strength and stone into your posture and tone. "cool goal song, asshole," you bit out.
"i missed you too," he cooed, not taking you seriously, even now. his frame seemed so imposing now, looming large, too large for someone you didn't trust.
you rolled your eyes. "if you'll excuse me, i'm waiting for someone." you turned to leave the hallway, go back to the exit where jack would surely be walking out of any minute.
auston grabbed at your wrist, and it burned. "what, you mean that kid?" he scoffed, but didn't let go. "c'mon, angel, you know he's nothing to you." he rubbed a circle into your wrist that once, might have been soothing, but now made you feel sick. "you know you're all for me."
and you could have said so many things. like how that kid was your age, actually, so what did that say about him? like how that kid was twice the man he would ever be. like how this would be the last time you ever saw him, the last time he would ever have your attention.
the opening of a door ripped you from your thoughts as both you and auston glanced up to see jack in the doorframe, his bag slung over his shoulder, his face flushed from the game, tired blue eyes caught on auston's hand around your wrist.
time froze for a millisecond as you felt like you were pulled between worlds. it can be two things, you had told yourself once. it was never two things.
you watched as painful realization settled in jack's eyes as he simply turned away, let the door close behind him.
you ripped your arm from auston's grasp. "you've never taken me seriously," you told him then, looking him square in the face, your tone steady and serious as anything. "but if you believe anything i say, let it be that you are nothing to me, and you never will be again."
for the second time, you were the one to leave, this time running towards something worth saving.
you cursed under your breath, looking around for that head of soft brown hair.
you found him in a different hallway, sitting on the ground, his bag slumped next to him, his back leaning against the wall, his feet flat on the ground.
for a single moment, it was so quiet you swore that your exhales echoed against the walls. he didn't turn to face you, but obviously knew you were there.
"so you're with him, then?" he practically whispered, his tone like a cleaver to your chest, so defeated and blindsided, almost like he was talking to himself.
you slowly made your way over to him, sat down next to him, mirrored his position. side by side, but he felt so far away. "i'm not," you said back to him.
he let out some kind of bitter laugh, a sound you hated, a sound you hoped you would never have to hear again. "so that was you making friends?" he picked at a thread on his dress pants. "just meeting new people, 's that it?"
you turned to face him, then, but he still faced forward, as if looking at you would ruin him. "it's not what you think," you said, softly.
"well, what is it?" he paused, looked at you, then, and he wore his sadness like a suit fit for mourning. "be honest with me, please."
you took a shaky breath, knowing that this, very possibly, might be the last time you would ever be so close to him. knowing that your next words, your explanation, it might drive him away from you forever, before you had even really had the chance to have him.
you savored this breath, this liminal space between the truth and the now.
"i was going to marry him," you said, and the confession felt like letting go of every single vengeful thought you had ever had, like all the spite and disdain in your body had evaporated into dust.
"you were going to marry auston matthews," jack murmured, his face blank, his tone confused.
"yes."
"but you're not anymore?" he asked, looking at you, leaning his cheek onto his knees like an impatient elementary school kid waiting for recess.
you shook your head. "no. he cheated on me."
there was a pause, brutal silence, as his brow furrowed in confusion, his fists clenched briefly before letting go. his gaze fell to his hands for a moment, and when he spoke again it was so cautious, so pointed, that your stomach sank. "and then you just happened to start dating me?" he looked so tired. "same job, same goals, pretty much same life." he let out a breath. "you can't tell me that's a coincidence."
you sighed, prayed to whatever god would listen that honesty would count for something. "no, it wasn't a coincidence." your heart felt like it was lulling itself to sleep. "you were never a coincidence."
he dropped his head between his knees, and hurt vibrated through the air like sound waves. you could feel his hurt in your fingertips, could have melted in down, frozen it, wielded it like a weapon. "tell me something, baby," he pleaded, muffled by his legs. "please."
you knew it was unfair, but you laid a gentle hand on his fingers. "let me tell you all of it, please, jack, and then you don't have to see me again if you don't want to."
he took a breath that you felt in your bones, then in an act of mercy you cherished, gave a soft nod.
so you did. you told him the whole story - how you had been so devastated and hurt that you were blinded by a desire to make auston suffer. how you had chosen jack on purpose, because you knew it would cut the deepest. how you had not simply shown up randomly at that bar, all that time ago, how all of it was part of a plan, down to flirting with his friend, down to that first game of pool.
he didn't push your hand away, actually leaned his leg into your arm as you told him the story. the scary part's over, you wanted to say, you can stop hiding under the covers, now.
and so you told him about how he had hijacked your plan entirely. how you never expected to determine how good your day was based on how often you heard his laugh, how no one could have predicted how often you dreamed of his smile, how days when he was away truly felt like a loss.
"if i had known you, i never would have put you through this," you told him, finally, honestly. "i would have left you alone."
he was quiet for a moment, and then he picked his head up and looked at you, genuinely, thoughtfully. "you never would have used me to get back at your ex-fiance?" he asked, but there was not really any bite in his tone.
you tried your luck, reached up, brushed his damp hair from his forehead. "i did use you," you admitted. "and i don't have an excuse." he looked at you with clear eyes. "it was mean, and cruel, and all i can do is say that i'm so, so sorry and i will never hurt you like that again. i promise, that's the truth."
in the silent moments after you finished speaking, you closed your eyes for a brief moment, waiting for his reaction.
when you opened your eyes, he was looking at you. he opened his legs and knees wide, held open his arms, waiting. "i believe you."
it took no convincing for you to settle into the space he had created for you, to lean back against his chest, feel his heartbeat between your shoulder blades, his arms coming around your sides to clasp in front of your middle.
"you believe me?" you said, almost a whisper. you picked up his hand, held it to your chest, shocked that he was letting you. shocked that he was still here, making space for you.
you let the smell of him engulf you. it felt similar to walking into your mother's closet - the evidence of her living, loving, everywhere around you. the evidence of jack was everywhere, now, all over you, growing like some carnivorous plant over your heart.
"you promised," he said simply, into your hair.
and how spectacular it felt for someone to take you seriously, to take your words at face value, to understand that when you promised something, you meant it.
it felt like words were failing you, so you brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his palm lightly.
he hummed into your hair. "tell me about now," he said, voice steady and patient.
"hm?" you twisted your neck to look him in the eye, leaned back further until the back of your head rested on his chest.
"you told me about before. about him," he said, his eyes swimming with home, with hope. "tell me about us. tell me about now."
you searched for words, wondering how you could convey just how important he was to you, just how deeply you cared.
you could have said that his eyes were the most beautiful ocean you'd ever swam in. you could have said that kissing him felt like swallowing stardust, that listening to him talk about his day was a privilege and honor.
you could have said how you loved his voice after a long day, how he wore his emotions openly, shamelessly, how kind he was to those around him, how he didn't let you leave his house in doubt for even a second about his feelings, how he let laughter come easy, how he was many things but never, ever, indifferent.
you could have said so many things, but sometimes poetry and fancy words are inadequate, just diluting the true meaning, make it taste like watered-down juice, faint and lacking.
you could have said so many things, but you just told him the truth.
"i wake up every morning and i think of you," you said. "every moment you're not with me, i wish you were." you willed every ounce of meaning into your gaze. "you are my first choice, every time, jack. and it's not even close."
there was a silence as he processed what you said, and something like adoration dawned in his gaze like a springtime sunrise.
he tilted his head down, pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that told you he understood.
that no matter how you had gotten here, you were here, now.
"tell me again," he whispered against your mouth, and you smiled into his. that, you could do.
fin.
#hockey#nhl#hockey smut#nhl smut#smut#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#quinn hughes#trevor zegras smut#jack hughes x reader#auston matthews x reader#auston matthews#auston matthews smut#auston matthews imagine#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes imagine#new jersey devils#toronto maple leafs
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A GUIDED HAND
WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet aftercare. 18+ readers only
PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Quinn Hughes knows exactly how to take care of Fem!Reader after intense sex.
Y/N slowly opened her eyes. Everything was fuzzy and heavy, yet she felt that warm tingly all behind her eyes. It was a few moments before the aches and pains began seeping in. She was dimly aware of lying on her left side, but everything else was a hazy ache.
She groaned as more and more aches began to wake up with her. Her lips were tender when she tried to wet them with her tongue. A rush of sensations flooded in as she shifted. From her shoulders, to her back; there were far too many aches and dull pains to name all at once. It was difficult just attempting to move.
A soft voice said, "Good, you're awake."
Y/N's eyes cracked open as her mind struggled to understand why those words were important to her. The room was dimly lit from light streaming in from an open door in the distance. The door was only about half way open.
"Here, baby." Quinn said gently, something moving before her face. It was just a gray blob. "Open your mouth."
Y/N opened her lips, and something softly brushed between them.
"Sip. Slowly." He firmly instructed in a soft voice. She tried to sip, but found herself to be struggling. On her second attempt, something cool and wet came into her mouth. "Swish the water around in your mouth, then swallow."
With an effort, Y/N did so. Immediately, her mouth felt better with the blessed moisture. And when she swallowed, her throat burned at first, but that quickly passed.
His hand gently caressed over the side of her head, beyond her eyes and above her ear. "Good girl. Take a couple more sips, sweetheart."
Her world became about that blissful water. Soft sip, swallow, soft sip, swallow, soft sip. Her aches seemed to ease bit by bit as the soothing water permeated her. His hand lovingly caressed over the side of her head and cheek. His touch and the water she sipped made all the aches fade away. She was beginning to sink back into that fuzzy haze again when Quinn spoke again.
"Y/N," Quinn paused a moment before continuing in more stern tone. "You've been such a good girl for me, but you're sinking again. I need for you to stay with me. Can you do that?" The hand left her cheek and the straw was withdrawn. "Focus, baby."
She blinked several times, dragging her mind back from the brink of that wonderful place.
"Shit, I really wore you out, didn't I?" He mumbled, softly.
"Yes." She mumbled weakly, beginning to sit up.
"Sh, sweetheart. I didn't ask you to sit up, did I?" His hand pressed gently to her shoulder, preventing her from rising.
"No. I'm sorry, Quinny." She whispered.
"Hey, none of that. It's okay, you're okay. Look at me." He cooed soothingly, as she started to look around. He tilted her head up to look at him, his eyes looking down to meet her gaze with love and concern. "You did good, baby. So good. Always my perfect girl."
He gently slid his thumb across her mouth, and she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. "Go ahead." Quinn said with a smile.
Eagerly, she started sucking on his thumb, her tongue sliding along the pad of his thumb as she suckled it. He watched as she came back to him, coming back to the surface.
His warm hand returned to the side of her face and head, soothing her with slow strokes. "That's my girl." He said with praise. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere. l've got you."
Finally, she looked up at him, letting his thumb fall from her mouth and she smiled at him. "Hi." She whispered, shyly.
"Hi, baby." He said and gently kissed her lips. Before her lips could form words, Quinn continued. "You've done so well. Beautifully and wonderfully well." His hand ran reverently over her hair. "I need for you to do something for me."
His hand left her hair and she felt his hand gently tug her hand ever so gently. "I need for you to stand up. Do you think you can do that?"
As if the words went right into her muscles and deepest core of her very being, Y/N rose to a sitting position, her legs going over the edge of her bed. With a deep breath, she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Standing on shaky legs, she straightened, eyes straight ahead. Suddenly, she realized that she was freezing. She could feel the cool air upon her skin.
"You're doing great, sweetheart." His soft hand cupped her cheek. "I know you're cold, but it will only be just for a second." He spoke sweetly, the usual gravel and bass in his voice fading with every word as his arm hooked underneath her and around her waist, pulling you into his arms with ease, letting her wrap her legs around his hips as her head rested against his shoulder.
With Y/N still in his arms, Quinn set the tap on the bath running, pouring in some of your favorite bubble bath and letting it run. His hand was quick to brush her hair out of her eyes as he looked at her with a gaze of pure adoration. “I’ve never seen a girl so beautiful and so good, I’m so proud of you.”
Quinn set her down with her backside pressed against the cool bathroom counter, the cool sensation helping her to regulate the way her skin was hot with pleasure. He grabbed her hairbrush, taking a few moments to brush through the knots that occurred as her head tossed against the pillows. Y/N was still breathing heavily as she let his delicate fingers make light work of brushing through the knotty strands. He smiled at her every time he caught her staring at him, enamored by the way his biceps flexed and his own breathing regulated.
Quinn went to put down the brush on the counter, his hands going to trace small circles on her lower back. “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Like I’m on cloud nine. Thank you for taking care of me.” Y/N softly smiled at him, her free hand pushing his hair out of his face as the other brushed it, cheekily using her leverage to pull him into a kiss and earning a satisfied chuckle from him against her lips as his hands moved upwards, nails grazing against her skin before resting either side of her neck, holding her into the kiss a little longer, leaving gentle pecks against each other’s lips as they pulled away from each other.
“I’ll always be here to take care of you. Are you ready to get you into the bath?”
Y/N nodded eagerly as Quinn gently helped you off the counter, arms wrapping around her again as he smothered her with a bear hug, a giggle falling from her lips as he finally let her go to check the temperature of the water, letting her use his shoulders as stabilization as she climbed into the tub.
“Are you staying?” Y/N asked sweetly, hands still pressed against his shoulders as she stood with her feet in the warm, bubbly water.
Quinn pressed his hands against her hips, biting the inside of his lip as he thought. “Do you want me to?”
Y/N nodded quickly, letting him step into the tub with her, pulling her down and into the water with him, her back pressed against his chest while his large hands scoop up the warm, bubbly water, letting it run down her shoulders and over her chest as he took her hands in his, interlacing their fingers as they sat in the water together blissfully. The ambient sounds of the water movement as well as his steady breathing helped bring her back down to earth.
He then released her hands and reached back to grab one of their many loofah's and Y/N's favorite peach body wash. He soaked the loofah in the warm tub water, then as he stood, put some body wash on it. She blushed as her boyfriend began to methodically wash her.
Starting at her neck, Quinn pulled up her hair up to wash around her neck and over the backs of her shoulders. He moved slowly, and gently. Y/N's eyes suddenly slid closed, as it felt too good.
Quinn chuckled softly. "Yeah, just relax and enjoy it, baby. You've definitely earned it."
The loofah worked between her breasts, below them, around and over. They were tender, though thankfully her nipples seemed to have checked out and didn't respond to the material going over them. She couldn't help but arch and push her chest out as it seemed he wanted to make sure they were extra clean.
Then it was time for her stomach, up and down her sides, and then she was told to turn. His hands were upon her as she turned, keeping her steady as she slowly turned. The washing of her back was rougher. With the many impacts of the last three hours, Y/N couldn't help but let out soft whimpers when particularly sensitive spots were bathed.
"You're doing absolutely amazing. Always so good for me." Quinn whispered as he worked.
With the warmth of the bathroom, her eyes closed as he worked over her skin. She swayed and he chuckled as he pushed a hand to her back to steady her. The loofah worked down her back, then along her ass.
"Some of these must be so sore." He mumbled to himself as he ran the lootah over her cheeks.
Thankfully, it only ached like rubbing a bruise, but it snapped Y/N fully awake. The loofah was rinsed in the warm water, re-soaped, and her ass and back of her thighs were washed again. He knelt down and bathed the rest of her thighs, and all the way to her feet.
Standing with his arms coming around her, he had a bar of lavender scented soap in his hands, and gently lathered his left fingers and palm. "One last detail, sweetheart."
Quinn carefully lathered around her sex, and then opened her outer lips to lightly wash there with the remainder of soap on his fingers. Reaching to the side of the tub, he pulled up the tub hose, ran it a moment into the water below, tested it with his left hand, and rinsed Y/N from neck downward. Again, he opened her outer lips to make sure he got all the soap. Once sure she was rinsed in the warm water, Quinn replaced the nuzzle into its respectful place.
Leaning in close behind Y/N with his chest pressing gently into her back, Quinn whispered into her left ear, "Sit back towards me again, between my legs."
In an instant, he had his arms wrapped around her shoulders, while pressing butterfly kissing to her temples, neck, and shoulder.
"Are you doing okay?" He asked, softly.
"Yes." She whispered, starting to turn her head towards him. "I'm just a bit tired. I really like it when you're rough in bed." She blushed, shyly.
"Do you now?" He had a smug, proud look on his face, teasing her with no remorse.
"Quinn." She whined, settling herself against him.
He chuckled breathily, grabbing her by the jaw to place small kisses wherever he could to the side of her face. Once he felt it was enough, he decided to end it with a small bite to her cheek. "I'm happy you enjoyed it."
"Gross." She groaned, feigning disgust and wiping her cheek with her hand.
"I literally spit in your mouth an hour ago, Y/N." Quinn said, confusion written all over his face.
"Shut up." She retorted, her cheeks absolutely blazing.
The two sat in the tub for a while, just relaxing and relishing each other's company. Time became meaningless as Y/N laid there. The warm water just up to her nipples, the wonderful mixture of peach and vanilla, the loving arms and legs of Quinn wrapped around her, and the occasional squeeze of the arms about her.
"I hate to do this, baby." Quinn whispered into her left ear. "But it's time to get up. The water is starting to cool."
Aftercare with Quinn was always one of her favorites. He took such good care of her; whispered loving words, held her close, tended to any and all of her needs, whether it was that she was feeling cold, hungry, or just needed to cuddle. Whatever it was, he gave it to her. He was ready to give her the moon and the stars from the sky had it been in his power to do so.
And, of course, Y/N didn’t have anything against the events leading to the aftercare, quite the contrary, even if it meant a dull ache between her legs, some bruises on her hips and a few hickeys along her neck and collarbones, like now. Quinn’s eyes moved past the bruises and he smiled apologetically as he handed her a warm towel.
She watched him with warm eyes. “It’s fine, really.”
“I’ll be more careful next time.” Quinn said while he gave her another kiss on the forehead. “When you’re ready, there’s pajamas waiting for you on the bed. I’ll go prepare the ice cream.”
“Chocolate ice cream?” Y/N asked hopefully, slowly massaging the soft towel against her wet hair.
He winked at her with a grin. “As always.”
Moments later, Y/N was dressed in the comfortable pajamas, wrapped inside of a blanket and sitting snugly between Quinn’s legs, resting against his chest and holding a bowl of ice cream in her hands. One of his hands was running through her hair while the other one was fiddling with the remote control as he surfed through Netflix in search of her favorite show.
“Ah, there, the second row!” Y/N said suddenly and pointed at the TV excitedly. He let out a knowing sound and kissed the back of her head.
“I almost missed it.” Quinn said quietly and pressed play, allowing the sitcom to start. He put the remote down and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin against the top of her head slightly.
“I love you so much.” He whispered, tightening his arms a little but loosening them again when she laughed and said that it was difficult to eat. He smiled to himself and let his eyes slowly move from her ice cream bowl to the TV. “Is there anything else you’d like, baby?”
Y/N placed the bowl on her lap and wiped the corners of her mouth, pondering for barely a second. “One thing would be nice.” She said as she lifted her head so that she was looking up at Quinn. He raised his eyebrows, eyes soft with love and lips in a small smile. She grinned and placed a hand on his cheek. “A kiss, please.”
“Your wish is my command.” He said with a chuckle, leaning down to kiss her sweetly on the lips, teasing them with his tongue only enough to get a slight taste of the chocolate ice cream.
After that came another kiss until they were both wrapped inside of the cozy blanket, Y/N sitting comfortably on his lap with his arms around her, his hands caressing her side and leg as the sitcom played in the background with a quiet volume.
Y/N was barely aware of his movements as she laid there floating in a lightless, soundless void, feeling spent and blissful. She remembered something about a warm, soft bed with thick, heavenly pillows for under her head, and a comforter that could not have been anymore lovely than if it were sent by God.
She faintly recalled feeling Quinn’s warm body behind her, an arm draped over her waist and words that made her grin happily as darkness overtook her. "Love you, sweetheart."
#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes smut#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x female reader#quinn hughes x fem!reader#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#vancouver canucks
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postgame - luke hughes (aka pretty boy)
jets@njd
3/21/24
#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#new jersey devils#jack hughes#quinn hughes#nico hischier#timo meier#john marino#dawson mercer#leawrites💋
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PHYSICAL THERAPIST - Q. HUGHES
paring: Quinn Hughes x fem! reader
word count: 3k
requested? yes - the hughes family all being together at quinn’s game for playoffs and they notice he’s really close to the physical therapist for the team and can tell he’s absolutely smitten
warnings: use of y/n.
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The atmosphere in the arena was electrifying as the Hughes family gathered to watch Quinn Hughes play in the playoffs. With every stride, every pass, the tension mounted. Jack, Luke, and their parents were on the edge of their seats, cheering fervently for Quinn and his team. But amidst the excitement of the game, something else caught their attention – Quinn's undeniable closeness to the team's physical therapist, Y/N.
As Quinn skated off the ice during a break, the Hughes family couldn't help but notice the subtle glances exchanged between him and Y/N. Jack, the ever-observant middle child, nudged Luke, drawing his attention to the unfolding scene.
"Look at Quinn and Y/N," Jack whispered, his eyes narrowing as he watched them converse by the boards. "I think Quinn's got a thing for her."
Luke followed his brother's gaze, a mischievous grin forming on his face. "Seriously? Quinn and the therapist? That's unexpected."
Their parents, seated beside them, hadn't missed the exchange either. Their mother, Ellen leaned in, curiosity evident in her voice. "Do you think there's something going on between them?"
"I'm not sure," their father, JIm, replied, squinting as he tried to decipher the situation. "But Quinn does seem rather taken with her."
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Quinn and Y/N found themselves seated on a bench near the locker rooms, away from the hustle and bustle of the arena. The excitement of the game still lingered in the air, but in that moment, it was just the two of them, lost in conversation.
"So, tell me, Y/N," Quinn said, a playful glint in his eyes, "what's the most bizarre injury you've ever had to treat?"
Y/N laughed, her eyes lighting up with amusement. "Oh, where do I even begin? There was this one time when a player managed to sprain his ankle... while tying his shoelaces."
Quinn chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're kidding."
Y/N shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "I wish I was. It was quite the sight to see."
As they continued to swap stories, Quinn found himself drawn to Y/N's infectious laughter and easygoing demeanor. Every now and then, he would reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch gentle yet lingering.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly, covering everything from hockey to their favorite movies. And with each passing moment, Quinn felt himself growing more captivated by Y/N's presence.
Eventually, the conversation drifted to more personal topics, and Quinn found himself opening up to Y/N in a way he hadn't with anyone else. It felt natural, as if they had known each other for years rather than just a few months.
And as the ambient noise of the arena faded into the background, Quinn realized that in Y/N, he had found not only a friend but someone he could truly connect with on a deeper level.
But amidst their laughter and shared stories, there was a tension – a palpable energy that lingered between them, unspoken yet undeniable. And as Quinn reached out to brush another stray strand of hair from Y/N's face, his touch lingered longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment of the growing attraction between them.
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Quinn and Y/N often found themselves in their own little world whenever they were together. Whether it was amidst the chaos of a crowded arena or in the quiet solitude of an empty locker room, they had a way of tuning out the world around them and immersing themselves in each other's company.
As they sat together on the bench, their conversation flowing effortlessly, Quinn couldn't help but feel as though they were the only two people in the room. The ambient noise of the arena faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their laughter and the gentle hum of their voices.
Time seemed to stand still as they talked and laughed, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment. Quinn found himself captivated by Y/N's every word, hanging onto her every laugh and smile as if they were precious treasures.
And amidst the chaos of the playoffs, with the pressure of the game weighing heavily on his shoulders, Quinn found solace in Y/N's presence. She was his anchor, his calm amidst the storm, and whenever they were together, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.
Jack found himself watching her more than he watched the game, intrigued by the way she moved, the way she interacted with the players. And then, as if sensing his gaze, she looked up and their eyes met for a brief moment before she turned her attention back to the ice.
Jack couldn't explain it, but there was something about Y/N that drew him in—a warmth, a kindness that seemed to radiate from her every pore. And as he watched her, he couldn't help but wonder if Quinn had noticed it too.
Sure enough, as the game progressed, Jack began to notice Quinn stealing glances in Y/N's direction whenever he thought no one was looking. There was a certain lightness to his step, a sparkle in his eye that hadn't been there before. It was clear to Jack that his brother was smitten, completely and utterly captivated by the young woman on the sidelines.
But as much as Jack wanted to tease Quinn about his newfound crush, he couldn't bring himself to do it. There was something about the way Quinn looked at Y/N, something so genuine and pure, that it warmed Jack's heart in a way he hadn't expected.
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As the final buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted into cheers, Jack couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. The game had been intense, nail-bitingly close, but in the end, Quinn and his team had emerged victorious.
As the players filed off the ice, Jack caught sight of Quinn heading in Y/N's direction, a nervous energy emanating from him like a halo. Jack exchanged a knowing look with his parents before they all made their way down to the locker room to congratulate Quinn on the win.
As the final buzzer sounded and the home team emerged victorious, Quinn wasted no time skating over to where Y/N was gathering up her equipment. His heart raced as he approached her, unsure of what to say but knowing that he had to say something.
"Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice slightly breathless from the adrenaline of the game.
Y/N looked up, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Hey, Quinn. Great game out there tonight."
Quinn grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "Thanks. I couldn't have done it without your help."
Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. "Oh please, you would have scored that goal with or without me."
Quinn's grin widened. "Maybe. But having you on the sidelines cheering me on definitely didn't hurt."
As they talked, Quinn felt a sense of ease wash over him. There was something about Y/N that made him feel comfortable, like he could be himself without any pretense or expectation.
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As Quinn's family entered the bustling locker room, the smell of sweat and adrenaline filled the air. Players were celebrating their victory, exchanging high-fives and laughter. Amidst the chaos, Quinn stood, his eyes searching for his family amidst the crowd.
"Quinn!" Jack called out, waving his arms to catch his brother's attention.
Quinn's face lit up when he spotted them, and he quickly made his way over, a wide grin on his face. "Hey, guys! Thanks for coming out to support me."
Ellen enveloped him in a tight hug, her pride evident in her voice. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, Quinn. You played amazing out there."
Jim clapped him on the back, a smile playing on his lips. "That was one heck of a game, son. We're so proud of you."
As they congratulated Quinn, Jack couldn't resist teasing him once again. "So, Quinn, when are you going to ask Y/N out on a date?"
Quinn's cheeks flushed slightly, but he laughed it off. "I told you guys, we're just friends."
Ellen raised an eyebrow, her motherly intuition kicking in. "Are you sure about that, Quinn?"
Quinn hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, Mom, I'm sure. We're just friends."
Despite his words, Jack could see the uncertainty in Quinn's eyes. He knew his brother well enough to recognize when something was bothering him. But before he could press further, the coach called for the team to gather round for a post-game pep talk.
The family bid Quinn farewell, promising to catch up with him later. As they made their way out of the locker room, Ellen couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Quinn's relationship with Y/N than he was letting on.
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The first time Quinn and Y/N met was a moment neither of them would soon forget. It was during a particularly intense practice session for Quinn's team, and tensions were running high. Quinn had suffered a minor injury during a drill, and Y/N, the team's newly appointed physical therapist, was called onto the ice to assess the situation.
As Quinn skated over to the boards, wincing slightly from the pain, he couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. He had heard about the new therapist joining the team but hadn't had the chance to meet her yet. Now, as she approached him with a concerned expression, he found himself momentarily captivated by her presence.
Y/N was a breath of fresh air amidst the chaos of the rink. Her warm smile and calming demeanor immediately put Quinn at ease, despite the discomfort he was feeling. As she examined his injury with gentle hands, Quinn couldn't help but be struck by her professionalism and expertise.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly as Y/N tended to Quinn's injury, her soothing voice providing a welcome distraction from the pain. Quinn found himself opening up to her in a way he hadn't with anyone else, sharing stories and anecdotes as if they had known each other for years.
From that moment on, Quinn and Y/N's bond only continued to grow stronger. They would often find themselves deep in conversation after practice, exchanging jokes and sharing moments of quiet companionship. Quinn admired Y/N's passion for her work and her unwavering dedication to the team, while Y/N appreciated Quinn's determination and resilience on the ice.
As the weeks turned into months, Quinn and Y/N became inseparable. They would often grab coffee together after practice or sneak away for quiet walks around the arena, lost in their own little world. Their friendship was a source of comfort and support for both of them, a constant amidst the ever-changing landscape of professional hockey.
And as they stood side by side on the sidelines during games, cheering on Quinn's team with unwavering enthusiasm, it was clear to everyone around them that Quinn and Y/N shared a bond that went beyond the confines of the rink.
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The playoffs were in full swing, and once again, the Hughes family gathered at the arena to support Quinn in his quest for victory. As they settled into their seats, they couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation in the air. But this time, there was something different. Quinn wasn't just focused on the game—he seemed to be eagerly searching the sidelines for someone.
Jack nudged Luke with a knowing smile. "Looks like someone's hoping to catch a glimpse of Y/N again."
Luke chuckled, glancing over at Quinn, who was scanning the area with a hint of excitement in his eyes. "He's got it bad, doesn't he?"
Jim grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I think he's finally met his match."
As the game got underway, Quinn's determination on the ice was evident. He skated with purpose, his eyes constantly darting towards the sidelines between shifts, searching for a familiar figure.
Meanwhile, Y/N was hard at work, tending to the players' needs with her usual skill and efficiency. She moved with a grace that caught Quinn's attention every time he stole a glance in her direction.
During a break in the action, Quinn skated over to the bench, stealing a quick moment to catch his breath. As he glanced towards the sidelines, he caught sight of Y/N, who was focused intently on her work. Without hesitation, Quinn made his way over to her, determined to steal a moment of her time.
"Hey, Y/N," he greeted with a smile as he approached her.
Y/N looked up, a surprised expression crossing her face before she returned his smile. "Hey, Quinn. How's it going out there?"
Quinn shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Could be better. Could be worse. But seeing you on the sidelines definitely makes it better."
Y/N chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "Smooth talker, huh?"
Quinn grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. "Only when I'm talking to someone as amazing as you."
Y/N's cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and she ducked her head shyly. "You're not so bad yourself, Quinn Hughes."
Quinn's heart skipped a beat as Y/N's words washed over him, her shy response warming him from the inside out. He couldn't help but grin, feeling a surge of happiness at her compliment. But then, a sudden realization hit him like a slapshot to the chest.
He forgot he was mic'd up.
Quinn's eyes widened in horror as he glanced down at the microphone clipped to his jersey. He could practically hear the collective gasp from his teammates and the roaring laughter from the announcers up in the broadcast booth. How could he have been so careless?
Y/N's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink as she realized what had just happened, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh my god, Quinn. Did you forget you were mic'd up?"
Quinn winced, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry about that."
Y/N couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head in amusement. "Well, at least it was a nice compliment. I'll let it slide this time."
Quinn chuckled nervously, feeling a bead of sweat forming on his brow. "Thanks. I'll try to remember next time."
As the game resumed and Quinn skated back onto the ice, he couldn't shake the embarrassment of his slip-up. But as he glanced towards the sidelines, he caught Y/N's eye, her smile reassuring him that it was all in good fun.
Meanwhile, the broadcast team couldn't help but gush over the adorable moment between Quinn and Y/N. Tweets and comments flooded in from fans, expressing their delight at seeing the budding relationship between the hockey star and the team's physical therapist.
"Looks like we've got a new power couple on our hands," the announcer joked, a grin plastered on his face.
Back in the stands, the Hughes family exchanged knowing glances, their hearts swelling with pride as they watched Quinn and Y/N's relationship unfold before their eyes. It was clear that they had something special, something worth rooting for.
As the game continued, Quinn couldn't shake the smile from his face. Despite the pressure of the playoffs, being with Y/N made everything feel lighter, easier to bear. And as they shared another laugh, Quinn knew that no matter what happened on the ice, having Y/N by his side made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world.
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The arena erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause as the final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and the culmination of months of hard work and dedication. The home team had emerged victorious, clinching the Stanley Cup in a thrilling overtime victory.
Quinn Hughes skated onto the ice, his heart pounding with excitement and adrenaline. He couldn't believe it—they had actually done it. They were champions. But amidst the chaos of the celebration, there was one person he couldn't wait to find: Y/N.
As Quinn made his way through the jubilant crowd of players and staff, his eyes scanned the sidelines until they landed on Y/N, who was standing near the bench, a wide grin on her face. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Quinn knew that he had to talk to her.
"Y/N!" he called out, pushing through the throng of people until he reached her side.
Y/N turned towards him, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Quinn! Congratulations!"
Quinn grinned, feeling a surge of pride at the sight of her. "Thanks, Y/N. We did it!"
Y/N laughed, reaching out to give him a congratulatory hug. "You did it, Quinn. I'm so proud of you."
As they pulled away from the embrace, Quinn hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, he thought. This was the perfect moment to finally ask her out.
"Hey, um... Y/N," he began, his voice slightly shaky with nerves.
Y/N looked at him, her smile softening. "What's up, Quinn?"
Quinn took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I was wondering if, uh... maybe you'd like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a date?"
Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but a smile slowly spread across her face. "I would love to, Quinn. I'd love that."
Quinn's heart soared at her response, and he couldn't help but grin like a fool. "Really? Awesome! How about dinner tomorrow night? Just you and me?"
Y/N nodded, her smile growing wider. "I'd like that. Dinner tomorrow sounds perfect."
As they stood there, basking in the glow of their victory and the promise of something new, Quinn felt a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him. The Stanley Cup was theirs, but even more importantly, he had finally mustered the courage to ask out the amazing woman who had captured his heart.
As they joined the rest of the team in celebrating their historic win, Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something incredible. And as he looked at Y/N, he knew that he was ready for whatever the future held, as long as she was by his side.
The canucks have never won the Stanley cup, so just pretend.
#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes#hockey#nhl x reader#vancover canucks#vancouver
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age is just a number ☆ quinn hughes
note: Ahhh! I love writing Quinn so much😭 this was written in 20 minutes, i'll edit it later, i just really wanted to post it cause I have 0 patience and self control
requested: yes
summary: luke bsf x Quinn hughes. 4 year age gap. After some comments were made by Quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and Quinn has to reassure you
You and Quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including Luke. Your best friend and Quinn's youngest brother.
The four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. Jack and Luke were chirping Quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. Going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.
You laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. Even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old.Your smile quickly faded when Jack started making comments about how all Quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.
You know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. It wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with Quinn. Being four years younger than him. Not being enough to keep him interested. These comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.
"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding Quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.
A few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and Quinn enters, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly
"Nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.
"Don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." Quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.
"Do you think I'm too young for you?" the words slip out before you can stop them and Quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.
"Age is just a number baby," Quinn says teasingly and you sigh.
"Quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.
"So am I. I don't care if you're 4 years younger or 4 years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. You know how Jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. Especially if there's an opportunity to chrip me about something. If they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that." Quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.
"I'm not ready to tell Luke yet." you say and Quinn nods, expecting that response from you.
"The longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." Quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.
Quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.
"God it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. Kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. You smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". Your guy loves hugging.
"I'll sneak into your room tonight. If you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and Quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.
"I think you can handle me just fine baby" Quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.
#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📂 bedsyandco works!#⇢ ˗ˏˋ 📜 cam's fics#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes fic
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Protecting Boyfriend | Quinn Hughes
summary — During the Canucks home game, a man says some not-so-nice words to you because you're wearing a Hughes jersey. When Quinn finds out, he does everything he can to protect you and makes sure you get the pep talk you need to hear
pairing — quinn hughes x reader
words — 2165
warning — not-so-nice- words
A wide smile formed on your lips as you entered the Rogers Arena.
Today would be the game against the Coyotes that you've been looking forward to for the past week.
You can't wait to support your boyfriend Quinn and the rest of the team live in person, and then at home, in your own stadium.
You slowly walk down the stairs to your seat, from which you have a perfect view of the entire ice.
But from your seat you not only have a good view of the field, but also of the Canucks players who are seated not far from you.
That way, if your boyfriend wasn't on the field, you'd get a good look at number 43.
You can hardly wait for the stadium to fill up and the 1st period to begin.
In fact, it doesn't take too long before the stadium starts to fill up and various people fill the seats with their jerseys bearing the shirt numbers of their favorite players.
Today you are also wearing the blue Canucks jersey with Quinn's number on it, which you wear at every game you attend.
From the beginning, it was natural for you to show up at your games in his jersey and not to wear any expensive clothes to make your appearance at Quinn's games a kind of catwalk.
There were many wives or girlfriends of players who used the games to get themselves all dressed up and did half a shooting during the game to get likes and attention on Instagram or various other platforms.
But you've never been like this before. Supporting Quinn has always been your number one priority and that will never change.
"Hello," an older man in a Canucks jersey greets you as he sits down on the happy seat next to you.
"Hello," you reply in a friendly manner and give the man a friendly smile.
As your gaze begins to wander through the now full stadium and the noise level slowly rises, you feel a gaze on you.
Slowly, you turn your face in the direction of the man who had greeted you kindly just a few minutes ago.
Now there's a crinkled look on your face as he eyes you intently and begins to make you feel uncomfortable.
You've always been a little reserved around strangers, so the words that now leave your mouth surprise you.
"Is everything all right? Or is something wrong?"
The man begins to mumble something into his beard, which you can't understand due to the volume level.
"Excuse me? What did they say?" you ask as your heart starts to beat a little faster with nervousness.
You just want to watch the game in peace, without incident.
"I said that it's obvious that you're wearing a Hughes jersey of all things, like almost all the young women here."
"What makes you think that?"
The confusion was written all over your face. Of course you know that there are a lot of fans wearing the number 43 jersey, but there certainly weren't that many in the stadium just now.
"You young women now only pick players who look good. Most of you aren't even interested in the sport itself," he rants, causing you to look shocked.
You expected anything, but not this. What is wrong with this older man? And above all, what the hell did he have the nerve to say that to you?
Stunned, you start to shake your head and just as you've thought of the perfect answer, it gets loud and the teams enter the ice.
Probably better that way, because at least the man next to you was quiet and you could more or less enjoy the game.
Because you wouldn't let him ruin the day you've been looking forward to for a week.
—
The man had actually kept his mouth shut to you the whole game.
But when Quinn scored a goal and you, like several other fans, jumped up and cheered loudly, you heard other comments coming from his direction, but you couldn't hear them over the loud cheering and music.
Now the game is over, which the Canucks won 2-1.
A broad smile returns to your face, but it is immediately extinguished when the man next to you stands up and gives you an annoyed look.
"Well you fangirl? Did you even watch and understand the game? Or were you just undressing Hughes with your eyes?" His voice growls slightly, making you flinch and reflexively wrap your arms around your body.
This can't be true. Why can't the man just leave you alone and make his way home?
Even if you were just a fangirl who was only there because of Quinn, that wouldn't be his problem.
You just shake your head and leave your seat.
As you climb the stairs to get to the exit, you try not to let on too much how much the man has intimidated you and you're starting to panic.
It's all good, y/n. Just keep walking. You'll be with Quinn in a minute, you repeat the phrases over and over in your head as you leave the stadium, a light breeze blowing through your hair.
You breathe out deeply and close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and mingling with the crowd of fans to get to the back of the stadium.
There you will meet Quinn so that you can finally embrace him and congratulate him on his victory.
As you reach the back entrance, where a barrier has already been erected in front of the exit and one or two fans are already waiting to intercept their favorite player, you look around.
So as not to get in the way of any of the fans, you stand in the corner of the barrier so that everyone else has enough space. After all, you're not there to get autographs or photos, but to wait for your boyfriend.
But luck was not on your side. A few seconds later, the man you just met stands next to you and looks at you with an annoyed expression.
"Well, are you trying to get your hands on Hughes?" There is disgust in his voice. He speaks so quietly that only you can hear him.
Your heart begins to hammer faster against your ribs as your hands claw at the barrier and you try to stay calm.
"Stop it," you whisper on the verge of tears, which makes you angry with yourself for showing the man weakness.
But you can't do anything about it. The words and the way he treats you start to burn on your soul and reopen some old wounds.
You don't have an answer ready, but if you were honest with yourself, no perfect answer would shut the man up.
As the first players come out of the stadium and start signing autographs and taking photos with their fans, you stand on tiptoe to get a better look at when Quinn will finally arrive.
Quinn was never one of the first to leave the dressing room and then the stadium, so it would be a while before he arrived.
You would survive these few minutes - hopefully.
"Don't get your hopes up, sweetie. Hughes would never take you home," the man laughs as he steps closer to you.
"If they only knew..." You mumble, unaware that you've just spoken your thoughts out loud as you take a step to the side to put more distance between you.
"Excuse me?" the man hisses.
"I said, if they knew," you start and then gather all your courage for the next words that leave your mouth. "He's my boyfriend."
The man next to you starts to laugh out loud, attracting the attention not only of the other fans, but also of one or two of the players.
Confused, Dakota, Conor and Elias look in your direction. It took a few seconds for the three's eyes to grow wide as they recognize you and realize what's happening right in front of them.
"Hey, man. Do you want an autograph too?" Dakota asks as he approaches you and the man.
Dakota gives you a warm and gentle look, trying to make you realize that everything is going to be okay.
"Oh, I'd love to!" The man beams now and starts to engage Dakota in a conversation in which he is overly friendly.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elias run back into the stadium, followed shortly afterwards by Quinn.
Relief spreads through your body as you spot Quinn, who looks anything but pleased.
He looks angry.
Elias must have summarized everything for Quinn.
Several fans start yelling for Quinn, but he only has eyes for you.
He approaches you with quick steps, puts his hands on your hips and lifts you over the barrier.
"Are you okay, babe?" You ask him as you feel his tense muscles under the suit.
"I should ask you if you're okay, if anything. Why didn't you say anything?" Quinn looks down at you with a worried expression.
"I couldn't have said that during the game..." you begin, but are immediately interrupted by Quinn.
"But during the break. You could have texted me or come to the dressing room."
Quinn strokes your hair gently as he continues to look at you with concern.
His muscles relax slightly under your hand, which is still on his chest.
But you know that won't last long.
"I wouldn't take her home tonight!" A voice calls out, making you flinch.
Immediately, Quinn's muscles tense again as his face becomes angry again and his hands automatically clench into fists.
"Quinn..." You begin, but Quinn doesn't seem to hear you at all.
He gently pushes you over to Elias, who has become like a big brother to you over the last few years, when you've spent a lot of time with him and Quinn.
"Elias..." You mumble anxiously as you look up at the blond.
"Don't worry, y/n. He won't do anything stupid," Elias promises you, but you're not even sure if you can really believe his words.
From a safe distance, you watch Quinn more or less stumble the man together.
As you do, you pick up a few scraps of words, like "My girlfriend...She doesn't deserve this...Greatest person on earth...Our team doesn't need fans like you..."
It's not long before the man is taken away by security and Quinn returns to you.
Sniffling, you throw yourself into his strong arms, which he wraps tightly around you and presses you gently against him.
"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbles into your hair.
"It's not your fault," you sniffle as you look up at him and see a few tears in his eyes.
"But he hurt you and said things to your head that no one should ever hear. And if you get hurt, it hurts me here too."
Quinn reaches for your hand and places it where his heart is.
"Oh, Quinn..." you whisper as countless tears begin to roll down your cheeks.
He was incredibly sweet to you and now, after you had to hear those nasty and caustic words from the man, he made sure that you were moved to tears.
"If that happens again - which I hope it doesn't. Would I like you to come straight to me, Elias or another one of my colleagues, yes?"
Quinn looks you in the eye and then kisses your forehead.
"I promise," you murmur as you snuggle back into his arms and enjoy his strong, warm arms.
All the words that had hurt you just a moment ago disappeared as if by magic while you were in Quinn's arms and enjoying his closeness.
"I want you to forget all those words that man banged on your head, y/n. You know none of those words are true. I know it's hard to get these words out of my head, but I hope they help you. You're the best person I've ever met. You are the love of my life. You're always there for me, you make me feel better no matter how bad I'm feeling, you make me laugh and just your presence makes me feel good. I love you y/n and I could go on and on, but then we'd be here until tomorrow and I hope these words help you forget all the crap he's thrown at you."
His words caused a tear or two to roll down your cheeks. You were touched by how lovingly he treated you and had the perfect words to make you feel better.
And Quinn's words actually manage to put all the man's words out of your head once and for all.
Quinn was not only your friend, but also your protector.
Even though you do this side of him and you like how protective he is of you, you hope that something like today won't happen again.
#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#nhl x y/n#nhl oneshot#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl#nhl hockey
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I’m in the hospital for a little bit and I’ve just been binging your Hughes!sister imagines! Any way you can do one of her in the hospital and they just don’t know what’s going on? I swear I’ve been poked and prodded for the last couple days wayyyy too much for someone that doesn’t like needles. If not no worries, just wanted you to know I love your writing
WE’VE GOT YOU — hughes brothers x sister!reader
summary: where one trip to the grocery store ends with you in a hospital bed and three worried brothers
note: once again, I lowkey deviated from this ask, but I low-key live for angsty-fluff <3 I’m so sorry to hear you were/are in hospital and I hope you’re alright lovely!
warnings: use of y/n & y/n/n, medical stuff like insertion of needles, blood, IV’s and hospitals in general, fem!reader, fainting. (I think that’s all really)
word count: 2.6k
Summer at the lake house was one of your favourite times of the year. It was one of the few times you could spend your days doing nothing besides spending time with your brothers. Your parents were busy for the next three weeks, leaving you completely in the care of your brothers as the four of you flocked to the lake house for some "rest and relaxation".
The four of you were two days into being there when Quinn decided that today was the perfect day to do the weekly, well-needed grocery shop, and he generously volunteered you to help him out.
With nothing better to do, you went willingly.
You'd been feeling off all morning, a sharp pain in your stomach had wracked around your body but in true tested fashion, you popped an Advil and tried to carry on with your day.
"Alright," Quinn huffed, knocking you out of your stupor as the two of you began walking down the grocery store's first aisle. You hummed and pushed the cart forward all whilst he pulled out a list of food to get. "Divide and conquer?"
"I can grab the cereals and snacks, you get the veg and meat?" You suggested, tilting your head to look at your brother who nodded with pursed lips.
"Deal," he confirmed, shaking your outstretched hand. Your warm hand met his cool one as he grimaced and pulled away. "Ugh...Your hand is all clammy."
"Shut up," you rolled your eyes and withdrew your hand. You felt a pang of pain bounce through you as you tightened your existing grip on the shopping cart. "I'll meet you at the registers."
Quinn nodded and the two of you separated, your head tilted to the side as you scanned the shelves for everything you needed. You'd given the shopping list to Quinn, having memorised everything you needed to pick up. As you reached to grab a box of cereal you let out a hiss, the box dropping as your hand shot to clutch your side.
Stars spattered across your vision as you stumbled to grip the cart. The pain in your side was now vicious, biting at your every nerve as your heart sped up. Glancing around, you searched for any sign of your older brother. Your face was fixed in a grimace as you slowly pushed the cart towards where you'd last seen Quinn run off to.
The pain, like daggers, cut through you, aiming for debilitation, you reckoned. The agony grew as you shuffled towards the fruit and veg section, spotting Quinn's blue backward hat from above the wooden shelving.
"Quinn!" Your desperate call was more of a croak than a yell but, despite the distance and quietness of your voice, he somehow heard you.
His head whipped around, his eyes meeting yours as his eyebrows scrunched together. By this stage, you were leaving heavily against the cart with your face scrunched in pain as black spots danced their way along the borders of your vision. Quinn placed down what he was holding instantly, his eyes steady on your form as you began to tremble.
He knew something was wrong— call it that big brother instinct (or just having proper eyes...but nevertheless).
His eyes remained glued onto your form as you struggled to keep yourself upright. When he finally reached your side, you felt your knees buckle, his arms slipping under yours to keep you upright.
"Fuck," Quinn swore, steadying you as much as he could. His worried eyes spanned across your weak form as you let hot tears roll down the cushioning of your cheeks. "y/n/n, what's happening? What's wrong?"
"Hurts, Q," you let out, your voice shaky and small. If Quinn closed his eyes it was almost as if you were a child again with bruised and cut-up knees looking for him to put a bandaid on it. You put a hand against your side as the pain pulsed and thrummed like a hoard of drummers.
"Okay," Quinn took a deep breath in whilst he shifted in his place. Now wasn't the time for floundering, he needed to take charge. He needed to know what to do–even if he had no idea whatsoever. "I'm going to take you to the hospital, alright? You're going to be okay."
You nodded as he helped guide you out of the shop, ignoring any questioning glances you received as you abandoned the shopping cart and store. He helped you into the passenger seat of the car, reclining it for you before he buckled you in. You drew your legs slowly up onto the chair, curling into yourself as more tears spilt over.
"Just hold tight," Quinn muttered, brushing his hand over your hair before he closed your door and hurried towards his side to start up the car. He gulped as he scanned your small form once more before he drove out of the car park.
The drive felt like a blur, your tears flowing as you tried to focus on anything but the rattling pain. Quinn's voice spoke clearly to you, constantly reassuring you. His familiar voice was one you clung to for any semblance of comfort.
"Hey, Luke, is Jack with you?" Quinn's stern voice spoke and it was only then that you realised he'd called your other brothers, letting it connect to the car's speakers. "Put the phone on loudspeaker..." Quinn looked towards you briefly before readjusting his grip on the steering wheel.
"Y/N isn't doing so well," he continued, "She collapsed on me in the store, so I'm taking her to the hospital."
"Wait, what?"
"What do you mean hospital?"
"Quinn, what's wrong with her?"
Jack and Luke's voices overlapped in a flurry of questions as Quinn sighed and tried to pick through them.
"I think it's her side, she was holding it tightly but I'm not taking any risks," he firmly stated. "We're five minutes out from A&E, I'll keep you posted."
"Keep us posted?!" Jack scoffed, "We'll be there in thirty minutes, maybe twenty-five if I speed a little."
"No speeding!" You groaned, your voice cracking as you pried your eyes open. "Please be careful."
"Alright, y/n/n," Luke piped up, "I'll make sure he's safe...well as safe as he can be, you know how bad he can be at driving."
"I'm not bad," you could imagine Jack scowling as a soft thump resounded. If you knew anything about your brothers you knew Jack had just whacked Luke straight across the head. "We'll see you soon!"
Quinn hummed and hung up as he pulled off of the main road, into the lead up to the hospital. He still looked at you every few seconds, his eyebrows permanently furrowed deep as you carefully squirmed in the leather seats of his car.
"Just hold tight, y/n/n," he muttered, changing gears, "it's going to be alright."
That's the last thing you comprehended before your vision completely darkened.
-
The incessant beeping coming from what you presumed to be a machine was the first thing you heard when you'd woken up. You moved your head groggily, your eyesight blurred as you blinked heavily.
The room was washed in pure you,wokelights above blinding as you lifted your hand to rub at your eyes. You felt a sharp scratch and upon glancing towards the feeling, you eventually noticed the IV jutting out of your paled skin.
You were suddenly wide awake.
You heard the beeping of the machine speed up as you attempted to sit up in the uncomfortable bed you seemed to be lying in. Patting your hands down your body, you discovered a thin hospital gown and a section of bandages across the middle of your stomach.
The door to your left swung open as a woman in scrubs and a white jacket entered with her clipboard in hand. She had a warm smile across her face when she noticed you were awake.
"Hello, I'm Sara, your doctor," the woman's soothing voice explained, as you looked at her in pure bewilderment. "You may feel disoriented for a while, but you’re in one of our recovery rooms at the moment."
"Recovery from what?" Your voice felt chalky if that was even possible. Sara rushed to grab you a glass of water waiting on a table beside you, handing it over to you for you to sip.
"You were brought in around..." Sara paused and checked your chart before looking back at you. "Eight hours ago with severe abdominal pain. You were unconscious, your brother carried you. We ran some tests and discovered that your appendix ruptured."
"My appendix?" You breathed out, your head was swirling as your shaky hands placed the plastic cup of water down on the table.
"Mhm," Sara hummed, stepping closer to the bed with her clipboard. "We took you in for surgery to remove it and now I'm here just to make sure you're awake and alright, before we bring you up to your room!"
"Oh...where is my brother?" You asked quietly, your hands folding cautiously in ront of you.
"The one who brought you in is waiting upstairs, and two other young gentlemen joined him shortly after you arrived."
"Also brothers," you supplied, a small smile weaving its way across your face. You winced as you shuffled beneath the thin sheets of the bed. "When can I see them?"
"As soon as I check you over and grab some bloods!" Sara beamed, waving her clipboard and pen. You leaned back against the pillows and allowed the woman to assess you as you stared at the ceiling.
She pulled out a needle and vial, along with a blue rubber strap. You watched apprehensively as Sara expertly prepared the equipment, her movements precise and practised. Despite your best efforts to remain calm, the sight of the needle made your stomach churn with unease.
"Alright, just a little pinch," Sara reassured you, flashing a reassuring smile as she tied the rubber strap around your arm. With steady hands, she swabbed the crook of your elbow with alcohol before gently inserting the needle into your vein.
You braced yourself for the anticipated sting, but to your surprise, it was only a brief discomfort before the sensation faded. You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that the ordeal was over before you knew it.
Sara expertly filled the vial with your blood, her movements smooth and efficient. Once she had collected an adequate sample, she removed the needle and applied a cotton ball to the small puncture wound.
"All done," she announced cheerfully, placing the vial of blood into a small tray and labelling it with your information. "You did great."
"Thanks...You make it look so easy." You offered her a weak smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you now that the ordeal was over.
"It comes with the territory." She chuckled softly, gathering up her supplies and tucking them back into her bag. "Now, I'll get these bloods to the lab and then we can get you settled into your room."
With a final wave, Sara left the room, leaving you alone once again. You let out a long exhale, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over you now that the adrenaline had faded.
-
You took a deep breath in as Sara pressed a button to open the doors to your supposed room. As it opened, you spotted all three of your brothers jump to their feet, their eyes fixed on your incoming bed.
Your eyes met Quinn's, as he seemed to let out a breath and let his shoulders drop. The tension in the room eased as his gaze softened, relief washing over his features like a gentle wave. You could sense the worry etched in his eyes, the weight of concern lifting as he saw you safe and awake.
"Look who finally decided to join the land of the living!" Jack exclaimed with a grin, nudging Luke who was standing next to him.
"Yeah, we were starting to think you'd taken up permanent residence in the land of the appendix-less," Luke chimed in, trying to lighten the mood despite the worry etched on his face in the form of little lines between his brows.
Quinn, ever the one to keep his emotions close to the chest, simply nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Glad to see you're okay," he said softly, his eyes reflecting relief as he ruffled your hair. You couldn't help but chuckle weakly at their attempts at humour, grateful for their presence despite the circumstances.
"Thanks...and Quinn, I guess I owe you one for bringing me here," you quipped, wincing slightly as you shifted in the bed.
"His biceps needed a workout anyways" Luke teased, earning a slight glare from Quinn.
Sara stepped back to give you some space with your brothers, her smile warm and reassuring. "I'll leave you all to catch up. Just remember to take it easy. You're still recovering," she admonished gently before slipping out of the room, leaving the four of you alone.
As you settled back against the pillows, surrounded by the familiar faces of your brothers, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. Despite the pain and uncertainty, you knew you were going to be alright as long as you had them by your side.
Luke leaned in, his eyes scanning you with concern. "Seriously though, how are you feeling? You look like you've been through a wrestling match with a grizzly bear." He winced, glancing down at your IV.
"I've been better, I'm just glad it's all over now." You managed a weak smile, appreciating his attempt at levity.
"You scared the hell out of us, you know?" Jack plopped down in the chair next to your bed, his grin faltering slightly as he studied your face. "Typical youngest child behaviour, always the dramatic one."
You scoffed and rolled your eyes as Jack gently laced his fingers through your non-IV hand and squeezed ever so carefully.
"Yeah, I almost had to call in the cavalry to drag your stubborn, passed out self into the ER," Quinn added, a hint of teasing in his voice, though his eyes betrayed his worry.
You chuckled softly, feeling a swell of affection for your brothers. "Well, thanks for not leaving me to suffer." You lolled your head against your pillow as the boys shifted in their stances. The three boys stayed silent as they watched you move with a few groans.
There was a beat of silence before you spoke again.
"So...do you think I can use this whole appendix thing as an excuse to get out of doing chores for, like, the next year?" You asked with a mischievous yet lazy grin, earning a collective groan from the boys.
"You wish, y/n/n," Quinn retorted, rolling his eyes with a chuckle. "But nice try."
As laughter filled the room, you couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over you. Despite the pain and uncertainty, having your brothers by your side made everything feel a little bit brighter.
You listened intently as the three explained what had happened exactly from the moment you'd passed out to the very second you'd been brought into the room. Jack and Luke had apparently run over various traffic cones out in the parking lot whilst Quinn had apparently drunk his body weight in caffeine.
As you listened to them, a sudden thought dawned over you.
"Hey...so do Mom and Dad know?"
"Oh, fuck..." Jack grimaced, slapping a hand to his forehead as Quinn swore low under his breath. "We are dead."
#wineauntie#quinn hughes x reader#nhl x reader#quinn hughes imagine#luke hughes x reader#hughes brothers x reader#luke hughes fluff#quinn hughes fluff#hughes!sister#jack hughes x reader#hughes brothers fanfiction#hughes brothers x y/n#hughes brothers x you#jack hughes fluff
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i loved what you wrote about the boys with super energetic kids but what about them with kids who are the complete opposite? like a very shy, quiet kid
them with a shy, quiet child
i was planning on doing this anyway but i love that you asked for it bc i wasn’t too sure if anyone else wanted that as well. hope you enjoy! <3
the boys with a shy & quiet kid (+ x fem!reader)
the boys with a shy, quiet daughter:
JACK HUGHES
— is so patient & gentle with her it’s crazy
— ^ like he’s so careful with his words when speaking to her & always makes sure that she’s comfortable
— speaks for her when she’s too shy to speak. like when the three of you are out at a restaurant & she’s too shy to tell the waiter what she wants, he’ll do it for her & always makes sure to ask her exactly what she wants beforehand so there’s no mistakes when ordering
— holds her hand when she gets anxious & squeezes it a couple of times to make sure she knows that he’s there for her
— she much prefers you over jack due to how calmer you are as a person but he doesn’t mind at all. if anything, he’s glad that she’s able to find solace in the reader as he can only imagine how hard it is to be shy & quiet as a child
— he genuinely tries to be more calmer & quiet in her presence. it’s a work in progress
— jack often finds himself going to quinn for advice on how to do better with his daughters shy & quietness. he only wants to do good by his daughter & it shows in his actions
— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other
— encourages her to speak her truth & speak up for herself when needed. he knows that it’s a hard thing to do but he encourages it by practicing & setting an example with reader as they both openly communicate how they feel to each other
— will literally wear a princess dress to the movies if a new disney movie comes out & she decides it’s her new favorite princess & wants to dress up. he has no shame
— during the summers, he makes sure to lather her in sunscreen. he’s deathly afraid of her burning so he goes the extra mile
— ^ tries to convince her to go wake boarding with him but she always says no. until a couple of weeks into the summer months, she finally agrees & has a blast as jack holds her tightly & does all these cool spins & tricks on the board
— he 100% always joins the readers & their daughters nap times when he gets back home from morning skate. the sight of the two of you wrapped up & cuddled around each other is so cute & makes his heart melt
— jack makes sure to give her a puck before every home game & blows her a kiss before skating off. he also makes sure to dedicate his second goal to her, his first dedicated to you always
KIRBY DACH
— she’s so small in comparison to kirby it’s insane
— he always holds her close wherever they go together. since you both live in montréal, & it’s cold, he always bundles her up so it’s quite funny to see him carrying just a ball of wrapped baby
— kirby’s so much more gentler & quieter with her. he can definitely tell when she’s having a more quiet day & is the best in making her comfortable
— 100% tries to help with her shyness by signing her up in sports or other activities to try to get her out of her shell
— ^ you once suggested summer camp & kirby was super hesitant about it but she ended up loving it so much that she couldn’t wait for the next summer. kirby lowkey felt sad at that bc all he wants to do is spend time with his baby girl & her going off nearly every summer for however many weeks just goes to show how much she’s growing
— whenever she gets nervous or eerily quiet, he holds out his hand for her & just dance around with her. it never fails to put a smile on her face & always gets her out of her funk
— kirby made her a bracelet when she was younger & she wore the shit out of it. it’s now just string but she always played with it whenever she got nervous or approached a new person at school in hopes of being their friend. she still carries it around with her for comfort
— is so supportive in whatever she does
— ^ she wants to play pickleball instead of hockey? he’s already checking out all the gear she’ll need. decides last minute to wear a princess dress instead of her school uniform? he’s asking her which dress she wants. she wants to try to make a friend by herself at the park? he’s sitting back & observing w/ a smile on his face
— kirby’s very big on communication so he always makes sure to check in on her & her feelings. it’s gotten to the point where she’ll just tell you how she feels instead of reader or kirby having to ask
— is also the type of dad to have matching costumes with his daughter
— ^ one year they went as (pink) kirby & princess daisy. it was so fucking cute. it’s one of your lock screens in your phone hehe
— is the one to wake her up in the morning & ease any anxiety she has about school or making new friends
— ^ he’ll brush back the hair from her face & softly speak to her as she voices her concerns & he’s so good at proving that she has nothing to be afraid of. he also makes sure that she’s confident in whatever she wears so kirby allows her to choose her outfits (she’s a little fashionista fr)
NICO HISCHIER
— mans will be the gentlest giant with her
— ^ cuddles 24/7 & nothing but affirmations from this man
— he can understand how hard it is to be so shy & quiet so he always tries his best to make little goals with his daughter in hopes of breaking her out of her shell
— ^ he’ll ask her what she wants to achieve that day on their way to school. it can be anything ranging from making a flower crown to asking someone to play with her during playtime. he’s always so proud of her when she runs up to him after school with the biggest smile on her face, telling him what she achieved that day
— nico’s heart always warms whenever he sees reader & their daughter together. she’s a lot like you & he’s so proud & thankful that he’s been blessed with this kind of life
— encourages her to go to practices with him whenever she’s allowed to
— is def the dad to be up on the stage with his daughter during her ballerina recital
— takes her to new places for exposure & although it’s nerve racking for the both of them, it’s something that neither of them will forget bc of the fun memories
— she does eventually “grow out” of being quiet & shy. she’s got a lot more tools to work with when she’s anxious or feeling shy & nico is always there to help her whenever she needs it
— plays with her hair when he sees that she’s going back into her shell
— ^ he allows her to do so most days but he knows the importance of building up your confidence when young & making friends so he plays with her hair for a bit while he talks to her to bring back up her mood. it usually works
— 100% the one to talk to her about her anxieties & make her feel better about them after
— nico tries everything to get her more out of her shell. he puts her into sports he thinks she’ll enjoy. makes sure she goes to her classmates birthday parties. all that stuff with different goals in mind so even if she doesn’t make a new friend, she’ll still have something to be proud of herself for
TREVOR ZEGRAS
— tbh, he has no clue what to do lol
— he’s learned a great amount of patience with his daughter
— he def tries to understand why she’s so quiet & shy. this leads him to reading about it more & seeking out answers on what he could do to accommodate her more
— trev 100% had to go to jamie for help since they’re both alike in personality. he’s such a big help
— will do anything to protect her & make sure she’s comfortable
— ^ whether that be in his arms or by herself, he’s ready to do whatever
— practices speaking up for herself. trevor will be so much more talkative about how he feels & what he’s doing throughout the day w/ her that she’ll eventually pick up on it & do it herself
— ^ if she’s not confident enough to verbalize it, she’ll write it & sometimes he & her go back & forth with letters. reader got the whole family a notebook so they all can communicate through that if verbalizing it is too hard
— mans literally shed a tear when she made her first friend
— the entire ducks team adore her
— let’s her take the reins in some things. it gives her the confidence to do things for herself & he can see the change in her behavior when she has more control over certain choices
— if she’s feeling shy or anxious, trevor will suggest they play hide ‘n seek or another game to get her mind off things or to simply just make her laugh & have a good time
— always on high energy when he wakes her up & sometimes she bounces off him with it but most often, she doesn’t so he has to check himself a lot & be a lot more calmer around her in the morning
the boys with a shy, quiet son:
JAMIE DRYSDALE
— is so happy to have a kid just like him. he literally looks just like jamie & acts like him it’s kind of eerie
— before jamie leaves for morning skate, he always presses a kiss to the crown of his sons forehead, whispering a promise of coming back & waking him up for breakfast
— ^ jamie takes great pleasure in waking up your son every morning after he returns from morning skate. he just looks so cute with his dark hair all sprawled about, still wiping the sleep from his eyes as he reaches out for his dad. jamie always chuckled to himself as he takes his son into his arms & rubs his back soothingly, making his way out to the kitchen where you are
— you & jamie are one of the only people your son plays with so it’s always a hassle to try to encourage him to play with other children his age
— ^ the one time it works is when jamie took him to the park & started talking to one of the other dads there. his son saw him talking to someone new so he decided that if his dad can do it, then so can he. he made two friends that day & they regularly go on play dates
— you always encourage both jamie & your son to be more friendly & talkative as you know it would most likely help them break out of their shells a little bit
— he put your son into hockey in hopes of him coming out of his shell a little bit & it def worked. jamie sometimes has to drag your son off of the ice bc he doesn’t want to leave just yet
— he’s really only friendly to certain people like trevor or mason since he’s known them since he could remember. it’s just other people he’s super hesitant about but both him & jamie are working on it together!
— loves loves holding him & taking him everywhere
— he always talks to him too about whatever & his son usually responds talking about something random. it’s how he developed his rambling habit whenever he meets new kids lol
— when he got traded, jamie was really nervous to see how your son reacted to the change since it was so sudden & abrupt. but he surprisingly took it really well. he even said hi to some of the other players after the game, head buried into readers collarbone as he waved to those walking passed him
— ^ the flyers def love your son & always include him on their “barking”. once he gets comfortable enough, he just kind of screams instead of barking but the whole team just eats it up & loves it, cheering him on
LUKE HUGHES
— he & his son are one in the same
— ^ they have the same facial expressions for everything & it’s too funny when they overhear someone saying some random shit & make the exact same face
— your son may be shy & quiet but he’s also calm & mellow. he speaks through his eyes & facial expressions
— ^ has a rbf & is not afraid to use it (especially if someone’s bothering him or you lol)
— reader 100% believes that her son is an old soul & is just done with living. like little dude barely tries to make friends (granted he is shy & it’s a little difficult for him) & just doesn’t have much to say & when he does, he has you reevaluating your life after a conversation
— lukes fav thing to do with his son is put a shit ton of blankets on the couch, make a fort, & watch his favorite movies while snacking on mac n cheese & homemade cookies. they do it nearly every night luke’s home
— he’s super gentle & patient with him as he tries to navigate his shyness. luke encourages him to make friends but doesn’t pressure him at all & also puts him into sports in hopes that he makes them naturally through that
— ^ & it does work! he’s made so many friends through hockey, soccer, baseball, etc.. although he is still quite shy & quiet during his games, which he is actively working on
— whispers to him when he’s overwhelmed & rubs his back in comfort as his son crawls into his arms
— puts him to bed & reads him bedtime stories
— at the lake house, luke is ever the more observant & cautious with his son. he makes sure to put sunscreen on him & that he always has his hat on to protect him from the sun
— ^ when he asked luke if he could go wake boarding with him, he nearly squealed in excitement. his son doesn’t really feel comfortable trying new things so this is a HUGE step in the right direction. holds onto him so tight as he giggles whenever luke does tricks. he has such a blast
QUINN HUGHES
— these two are a mirror image of each other it’s insane
— ^ ellen pointed it out to you a few weeks after you had given birth & you can’t unsee it (your son & quinn are twinsies fr)
— even tho his son is shy, he highly encourages him to make some friends in pre-k but assures him that he should take it day by day & that he’ll always love him no matter what
— definitely tries to make him less anxious by taking him in his arms & giving him raspberries in his neck or on his stomach. it helps take his mind off of whatever he was thinking about
— his son always wants to see him right after quinn’s games, which isn’t always possible so sometimes he has him join him for interviews. just quinns presence makes his son calm
— ^ quinns def encouraged him to answer or speak into the mic & his son is always a blushing mess after he says hi into it, hiding his face in the crook of quinns neck as everyone awes
— quinn always has a hand on his son. whether it be on top of his curly hair or on his back as his soothingly rubs it. he always has to have a hand on your son as quinn knows that he’s his son safe person. it makes the both of them feel better
— always tries to include him in everything (when it’s appropriate) so he’ll def bring him to events or practices. it exposes him to more things & it eases his sons anxiety with stuff like that
— 100% does arts & crafts with him. it’s so fucking cute istg
— when he’s old enough to understand certain words, quinn will tell him about his struggles with being a quiet child as well. he wants his son to know that he’s not alone & never is
— gets him a bear that has a voice recorder in it with the both of you saying “we love you bud! you got this!” that he plays every morning & it 100% makes him feel better about whatever he was worried about
— his son’s biggest cheerleader fr
— ^ the loudest you will ever hear quinn be is at his sons sports game or when he gets an award. he’s so proud of him & all of his progress, no matter how great or small
LUCA FANTILLI
— is off the walls ecstatic to just have a child really
— loves him either way
— luca is definitely his sons safe person so luca always has him in his arms or has a hand on his head as he clings onto his leg
— always refers to him as “buddy” or “my little buddy”, which gets him out of his shell sometimes since he wants to be just like his dad
— so so patient & understanding
— ^ will sit by his son as he’s trying to express himself without feeling nervous & lets him take his time. also helps him through his emotions as well
— encourages him to practice his “social skills” on him so he can remember what to say or do when he wants to make a new friend
— takes him to practice when allowed & just lets him chill or play around with the pucks
— ^ the entire umich team loves loves your son & although he is shy, they always make an effort to talk to him or fist bump him every time they skate by him. they respect his boundaries 100% too
— ^^ monday questions with him is always 50/50. sometimes he’ll be up for it & other times he won’t. but when he is, he’s so cute & giggly as he answers the question (most definitely copying his dads answer)
— reader is the one to wake him up more often than not & he much prefers it that way. you’re much calmer than luca at times so your son loves to just cuddle up to you as you pick him up & make your way to the kitchen where luca is making breakfast
— luca has him do the “shakes” whenever he’s feeling anxious about something
— ^ he told his son that it helps with getting the nerves out & he’ll absolutely just start shaking his arms or whole body out of nowhere to get rid of them
— the king at back rubs fr
— gets all papa bear when he hears from his sons teacher that some kids were making fun of him for being so quiet. luca literally gives a stern talking to to their parents & tells his son that bullies only do that to make themselves feel better since they feel “bad/insecure” about themselves. him being shy & quiet is something that he shouldn’t be ashamed of as it is apart of him & luca & reader love every inch of their son, no matter what
— posts “ootd” stories on his insta & hypes up his son as he poses & giggles
— always makes sure to shower his son in praise whenever he achieves a goal or makes a new friend. he’s so excited for his little buddy & his progress!
COLE CAUFIELD
— is surprisingly good at this for some reason
— knows all the tricks to encourage his son to get out of his shell & interact with others
— ^ you’re suspicious of him sometimes bc whatever he does or suggests always works. it’s like he’s psychic or something
— if he’s not having a good day, cole will gather his son in his arms & hold his close to his chest. sometimes he even puts his sweatshirt over him as he’s wearing it so he feels even safer
— cole throws ice cream parties whenever his son makes a new friend or talks to someone for longer than five minutes
— ^ you think it’s a bit excessive but start to see the progress he’s making in breaking through his shell so you don’t stop cole from continuing to throw them. you eventually find it super cute & heartfelt
— def encourages him to find something he’s passionate about to take his mind off whatever he’s feeling anxious about. sports is something he wants to try so cole sort of threw him into whatever sport he thought he’d enjoy
— ^ soccer is something your son enjoys as communication has to be constant between all the players & it encourages him to be more vocal
— is really good at implementing coping techniques/mechanisms for his son if he ever needs them. lowkey a therapist fr (he’s got extensive knowledge about this shit that you sometimes wonder what cole would be like as an actual therapist)
— gets super excited when he does something out of his comfort zone & makes sure his son knows how proud of him he is
— is super patient & understanding
— it’s a tradition for cole to take him to practice once or twice a month (or week) & the boys absolutely love your son!
— ^ little dude is a completely different person on the ice it’s insane. all of his shyness & quiet tendencies disappear & he just has so much fun that it sometimes makes cole tear up with pride & happiness
#drysdalesworld works!#drysdalesworld#hockey x reader#nhl x reader#jamie drysdale#trevor zegras#jack hughes#quinn hughes#luke hughes#cole caufield#nico hischier#kirby dach#luca fantilli#jamie drysdale x reader#trevor zegras x reader#jack hughes x reader#quinn hughes x reader#luke hughes x reader#cole caufield x reader#kirby dach x reader#nico hischer x reader#luca fantilli x reader#headcanons#headcanon
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The Best Summer Ever | Quinn Hughes
Summary: First summer at the lakehouse, and it couldn't be better.
Pairings: Quinn Hughes x Teacher!Fem!Reader
Warnings: None, just some pure sweetness. Part of this universe but can be read on its own!
Wc: 3.6k
-
As you lounge in the backyard of the lake house, with a book in hand, working on your tan, and Quinn napping beside you, you surmise that coming to Michigan with Quinn for the summer was one of the best decisions you've ever made.
Quinn lays on his stomach, with his head pillowed in the crook of his arms. He hadn't planned to nap, but the two of you had gone on a run along the waterline this morning, and then Quinn had a training session with the boys. He had conked out, less than ten minutes after he had stretched out beside you.
You glance at the time on your phone, Quinn has been asleep for almost an hour. You bookmark your page, deciding it's time to wake him up, before his lovely golden tan turns into a massive sunburn. You flip onto your stomach and delve your fingers into Quinn's hair, gently working through the tangles.
The humidity was doing wonders for his curls, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't absolutely head over heels for summertime Quinn. The tan, the curls, the way his cheeks always seemed to be flushed from heat, the smile that seemed permanently etched into his face. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, and your other hand traces light patterns along his spine.
Pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulders and upper back, your fingers massage his scalp steadily. He makes a low noise of contentment, and you grin against his sun-kissed skin. "Quinn," you murmur against his skin.
He doesn't respond. You press a kiss to the crook of his neck, and he stirs under you. Another behind his ear. And the underside of his jaw.
His chest rumbled with a soft hum, and he nuzzled his head against the crook of his arm with a sleepy sigh. You giggle and pull out your phone to snap a photo of him. He reminds you of a cat napping in the sun.
"Quintin," you mutter against his skin, he gives you a sleepy grunt, "wake up honey," you say softly, carding your fingers through his hair, "if you don't turn over you're going to get a horrid burn on your back," you coax, tugging ever so gently on his curly locks.
Quinn rolls over with a huff. Suddenly his arms are around you and he's pulling you on top of him. You squeal in surprise as he situates you between his legs comfortably, your forearms resting on either side of his head. He squints one eye open, with a glare. Half because you woke him up and half because the sun was so bright.
"Why'd you wake me up?" He huffs.
You snort, detangling yourself from his arms, "Cause you whine like a bitch when you're sunburnt." His jaw drops, and you grin, kissing him on the cheek sweetly.
"I can't believe you just called me a bitch," he gasps, all traces of sleep disappearing from his body.
"I'm just telling the truth," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Quinn sits up, pulling your sunglasses off, you squint your eyes, frowning at the sudden brightness.
You screech in alarm, as Quinn is suddenly grabbing you around the waist, holding you tight to his body and walking towards the dock. "Quinn," you gasp "What are you doing?"
"I think someone needs to cool down her attitude a little," Quinn smirks, his tone like he's scolding a child.
"Quinn," there's slight panic in your tone, "please no, I'm sorry" You flail your legs trying to escape his hold before he tosses you into the lake.
"Sorry baby, I can't hear you over my bitchiness," Quinn snarks, nipping at your ear playfully. You yelp, twisting in his hold.
"I didn't mean it, you aren't a bitch, you're the sweetest man to ever exist, you have never been bitchy in your life! You deserve the world and I love you with all my heart!" You ramble, pressing kisses to his face in hopes that he will have mercy.
Quinn is smiling mischievously, "Gotta do better than that baby," he's standing at the edge of the dock.
"Quintin Jerome Hughes!" You warn, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly, "I swear to God if you-" Before you can finish your threat, Quinn is jumping off the dock with you wrapped around him.
The shock of being plunged into cold water after being in the sun for over an hour is brutal. You resist the urge to scream purely because you're underwater and you don't need a mouth full of water.
As your heads break the surface, you gasp for air. Quinn's grin is infectious and you can't help but grin back. "How's the attitude? Cooled off yet?" He asks smirking.
You unwrap your legs from around his waist, kicking them back and forth underwater to help keep the two of you afloat. Your arms wrap around his neck tugging on his now wet hair, "Think I'm still a bit hot," you smile teasingly, pushing on his shoulders to dunk his head under water.
Quinn gasps for air as he goes down. You cackle as he fails to drag you under with him. He comes up, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, and lunging after you with a grin. You swim away with screeching laughter. You splash Quinn aggressively in an attempt to save yourself.
Suddenly there’s a loud whooping coming from the dock, along with heavy footsteps. Then Jack is cannonballing into the water. Luke follows after him flipping off the dock in a fancy maneuver that briefly leaves your heart in your throat. As soon as their heads break the surface, they grin mischievously. The four of you lose track of time and end up fooling around in the water for hours, splashing, wrestling, racing, and every other possible game you can think of.
By the time Ellen is calling you out of the water to get ready for dinner like a bunch of children, Jack is sporting a wicked sunburn across his nose and cheeks and you and Luke have probably swallowed half of Lake Erie from the amount that Quinn and Jack have been dunking you under water and splashing you in the face.
You hoist yourself onto the dock and offer Quinn a hand to help pull him up, he takes it with a grin and pulls you back into the water with a cackle. You pout at him, as you move your wet hair out of your eyes. Quinn kisses the pout right off your face, and you can’t help but melt into it, locking your arms around his neck and kissing him back.
“Ewwww!” Luke screeches, as he and Jack begin to splash the two of you all over again.
“Children!” Ellen barks, unable to keep the smile off her face, “Out of the water or you will be late for your dinner plans!”
There is a collective grumbling amongst the four of you, but you exit the water nonetheless. This time, Quinn doesn't pull you back into the water, lest he face the wrath of his mother. Ellen and Jim had plans with a few of their friends while Luke and Jack had been invited to have dinner with a few other NHL guys who lived on the lake. Originally, you and Quinn had been invited too, but Quinn had politely declined in favour of taking you out on a good ol’ classy dinner date at the country club.
As bad as you felt about declining the invite, you were excited to have Quinn to yourself for the evening. The only time you and Quinn got a moment alone for yourselves was usually when you were going to sleep, so you were looking forward to this Dinner date.
Quinn wraps a towel over your shoulders as the four of you head up to the house, Jack and Luke sprinting ahead to fight over who gets to use their shower first. “You shower first?” Quinn mutters against your wet hair.
“We could shower together,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively “save some water.” Quinn chuckles, pressing another kiss to your hair fondly, “Trust me, baby, if we shower together, we definitely won’t be saving water.”
You laugh along with him, knowing he’s right, “I’ll be quick,” you assure, stripping out of your swimsuit and stepping under the cool spray of water. You run through your shower steps as quickly as you can and are in and out in ten minutes. While Quinn showers you do your hair and makeup, keeping it simple and sticking to your usual routine for fancier events. As you apply mascara on your lashes, you’re a bit giddy for dinner tonight.
The dress you picked out, was a classy white number that you had been saving for something fancy, and you were excited to finally be able to wear it. And also to see Quinn’s reaction to you in it. He hops out of the shower and is quick to change into a stylish short-sleeved white button-up and a pair of beige slacks.
“Do my hair?” he asks, tipping his head towards you in invitation. You smile, running some hair oil and a bit of curl product through his locks so they are nice and defined, he kisses you on the cheek in thanks, “I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he says stealing one last kiss.
He slips out of the room, and you lock the door behind him as you pull the dress out from the back of the closet. You get dressed, grab your bag and your trusty pair of nude heels, and go exit the room. As soon as you appear at the top of the stairs, Quinn's eyes are drawn to you. His jaw drops, and his eyes soften with love as you fuss over trying to fit your phone in your bag.
You look up to find Quinn staring at you and your cheeks warm. One thing about Quinn is that there is meaning in everything he does. He is purposeful and thorough, and he works hard for what he wants. So when he pins you with that look, you feel loved, purposefully, and wholeheartedly, and damn if that isn't the best feeling ever. You lock eyes with Quinn, and his lips curl into a soft, adoring smile.
Everything else falls away as you descend the stairs. It's just you and Quinn. He makes you feel like a princess, and he is your prince charming waiting at the bottom, hand extended towards you, ready to lead you to your happily ever after.
“Hi,” he whispers as you take his hand, he brushes a gentle kiss on the backs of your knuckles and your stomach flutters.
“Hi,” you smile, staring up at him through your lashes. You thought it would be impossible to love this man even more than you already did, but every day he proves you wrong, “I Love you,” you murmur softly.
“I love you too,” He smiles, and damn if you don't wanna abandon your dinner and spend the night in his arms.
Ellen rounds the corner and is immediately gushing over the two of you, “Oh, just look at you two! Come here I want pictures,” you slip on your heels as she ushers the two of you in front of the mantel, much to Quinn's chagrin.
“Mom please,” Quinn whines, “we’re not kids, and this is not prom,” you snicker at his whining, secretly happy that Ellen is making the two of you take photos.
“You may not be kids, but you're still my children, now pose,” she demands, holding up her phone.
Quinn wraps an arm around your waist and you place a hand on his chest as the two of you smile at his mom's camera. After she snaps probably over a hundred photos Quinn is practically pulling you out of the door, with the boat keys in hand, “better not get me wet,” you warn, as you carefully smooth down your dress.
“Wouldn't dream of it,” Quinn chuckles as the boat hums to life. You sit in the seat across from Quinn, legs curled under your chin resting against your hand as you take in the way the dipping sun reflects on the water. The golden halo of sunlight that illuminates you makes you look like an angel. Quinn is absolutely enraptured by your beauty, if he could freeze this moment in time, he would.
The boat ride from the lake house to the country club takes less than twenty minutes, it would have been faster if Quinn wasn't trying to keep the both of you dry. He parks the boat on one of the docks, and hops over the edge of the boat, holding his hand out to you. You take it gratefully, not letting go even when you are safe on solid ground.
So far you've only been to the Country Club during the day when the boys deemed it a golf day, or to play tennis, or grab something easy for lunch before going right back out in the boat. In the early evening, it almost seemed like a completely different place.
You hold onto Quinn's bicep, fingers tapping nervously against corded muscle, as he leads you through the front foyer of the building. Quinn squeezes your hand reassuringly. It's at moments like these that you feel self-conscious about the fact that you're dating a Superstar Captain of the NHL. He could be doing much better than a lowly elementary school teacher.
It's as if Quinn can read your negative thoughts. He looks at you, face soft with concern, nodding his head to ask if you're ok. You give him a tight smile and nod, squeezing his bicep again, as you dispel all the thoughts from your head. Quinn wants you. That's why you're here.
A pretty hostess, dressed from head to toe in black, is quick to find you. “Do you have a reservation?” she asks professionally.
“Yep,” Quinn answers with a polite smile, “It should be under Hughes,”
The hostess clicks a few times on her iPad, and her eyes light up as she clocks in Quinn's reservation, “Right this way please,” she leads you through The main dining room, up a set of stairs and out onto the rooftop patio with the most magnificent view of the lake. “Someone will be right with you,” she smiles.
“Thank you,” you and Quinn say simultaneously. He pulls out your chair, and you smile at him, smoothing your dress out as you sit down.
“Quinn, this is so beautiful,” you gasp, taking in the view.
“Yeah it is,” he says smirking. His eyes are locked on you, and when you notice your cheeks flush.
“You're so cheesy,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread in your napkin.
“You love it,” Quinn smirks.
At that moment a Waiter appears, offering the two of you menus, and asking what you would like to drink. Quinn orders some kind of expensive wine, and the waiter leaves to retrieve it and give you time to look over your menus. It's much fancier than you're used to, and it's a little overwhelming, but Quinn happily takes charge, keeping a comforting hand on your thigh under the table.
Once the food is ordered and you both have a few glasses of wine in your system everything feels much easier. Along the way, your heels got discarded under the table, and your bare foot was resting on Quinn's thigh, rubbing up and down teasingly.
Your foot strays a bit too high and Quinn wraps a hand around your ankle, stopping your foot from moving any closer to his dick. He throws you a dark, lust-filled look that holds a promise for later, and you smirk at him teasingly. All in all, the dinner was absolutely amazing. The food was delicious and you were absolutely elated to have Quinn to yourself for a few hours.
“Wanna go for a walk on the beach?” Quinn asks as the two of you leave the restaurant hand in hand. The sun is just dipping below the horizon, casting the sky in beautiful shades of orange, pink and purple.
“Absolutely I do,” you grin, hanging into his arm. The two of you deposit your shoes in the boat and walk along the waterline. Quinn has an arm draped over your shoulder, and yours is wrapped around his waist fingers dancing under his shirt and across the bare skin of his torso. You lean your head on his shoulder and his fingers draw patterns on your arm. You wish you could burn this moment into permanence.
“I can't wait to do this with you every summer,” you say quietly, afraid to disrupt the peace of the moment. Quinn pulls his arm from your shoulders, it takes you a few steps to realize he isn't walking, and when you turn to see what's wrong, your hands fly to your mouth with a gasp.
Quinn is down on one knee, with a ring box open in his hands. Somehow the only thing you can think is that his pants are going to get dirty from kneeling in the damp sand.
“Your pants are going to get dirty,” you croak, voice thick with emotion. Quinn chuckles, shaking his head fondly.
“Y/n,” he starts, with a soft breath, “I know we've technically only been dating for a few months. But for as long as I've known you I knew I wanted to do forever with you.” he takes a shaky breath “Honestly, I had a whole speech written, but you look so angelic in the sunset that it all left my brain.”
You let out a choked giggle, as tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You kneel down in front of him, resting your shaky hands on his knee.
“Your dress is gonna get dirty” Quinn parrots, and it's your turn to laugh at him.
Quinn takes another deep breath, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. “Y/n, from the moment I met you, I knew you would be special to me. Knowing you for the past six years of my life has been the greatest blessing that I could've asked for. The easiest thing I've ever done in my life is love you, and god- there aren't words to describe how much I love you and what you mean to me. I want to spend forever with you by my side.” The tears that decorate the rims of Quinn’s eyes finally spill over, “So, Y/n Y/l/n, will you do me the greatest honour in being my wife?”
An ugly sob escapes your lips and you throw your arms around his neck, “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes,” you cry, pressing kisses to his face, there is salt on your lips and at this point, you aren't sure if they are your tears or his. Quinn finds your left hand and slips the ring onto your fourth finger. You take a minute to really look at it, and all of a sudden, you're crying all over again. It's everything you’ve ever dreamed of.
You throw your arms around Quinn again, dragging him down for a kiss, he holds you tight to his body, kissing you back like it's the last time he'll ever get to do so. As Quinn licks at the seam of your lips, something in the back of your mind reminds you that you're in public, but you can't bring yourself to care enough to stop kissing him.
The clicking of a camera accompanied by sniffling is what drags you out of your moment with Quinn. You look over to find Jack and Luke. Jack holding up his old camera from back when he had a hobby in photography and Luke holding up his phone. They're both teary-eyed with huge smiles on their faces.
Quinn stands, pulling you with him, and then Luke and Jack are throwing themselves at the two of you, and everyone is holding onto each other. There are so many tears it's hard to tell who's crying and who's not. Eventually Jack and Luke detach themselves from the two of you, wiping at their eyes and grinning wildly.
“I can't believe you said yes to spending the rest of your life with our stinky big brother,” Luke wrinkles his nose.
“Shut it, Moose,” Quinn rolls his eyes, pushing his brother playfully.
“I know you said yes, but it's not too late to blink twice if you need help,” Jack says seriously.
You laugh, knowing they are joking, but nothing could pry you from Quinn at this moment. Jack convinces the two of you to pose for a few more pictures, in the fading twilight. He captures a few absolutely stunning ones of your ring, promising that everything will be sent to you after he edits them. Eventually the four of you part ways, Jack and Luke heading to their car and you and Quinn back to the boat.
The drive back to the lake house is much chiller now that the sun is almost entirely gone. Quinn smiles knowingly, pulling a hoodie out of one of the seat compartments. You slip it over your head, sighing happily as the scent of Quinn engulfs you. He pulls you into his lap, keeping an arm securely around your waist and hooking his chin over your shoulder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your head against the crook of his neck.
“I love you so so much Quinny,” you whisper, “I'm excited to spend forever with you,”
“Me too, my love, me too” Quinn sighs happily, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.
A sudden thought hits you, and the biggest smile blooms on your face, "I can't wait to be Mrs. Hughes," you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
Quinns eyes twinkle lovingly, "That has a nice ring to it,"
"Yeah,"
-
Ok idk how I feel about this!
I started it and I loved it. Then I wrote the middle and I still loved it. And then I wrote the end, and I still loved it. And now that I have to post it I fucking hate it! So that's nice!
Anyways hope yall enjoy.
Leave comments cause I'm an attention whore 🥰
Also, this series likely won't be updated for a while, cause I never originally planned to make it a series anyways, but here we are! Just cause I have a lot of one-shots floating around in my notes that I wanna work on. If there's anything yall wanna see from this series, let me know and I might write that!
Also, I am working on those blurb requests! I promise! I'll start posting them eventually!
Apologies for the ramble, love yall <3
#quinn hughes#qh43#hughes brothers#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes blurb#captain quinn#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes x y/n#nhl blurb#hockey imagine#hockey blurb#loving you is as easy as abc 123#idk how i feel about this so i nesd yall to hype me up
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random text hc’s
hughes brothers | their texts messages with their lovers.
jack hughes —
luke hughes —
quinn hughes
#nhl#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#hockey#hockey imagines#luke hughes#lukehughes#luke hughes x reader#nhl blurb#jack hughes#nhl oneshot#nhl fic#jack hughes blurb#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes fic#jackhughes#jack hughes x reader#ꕤ written by gisella#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes angst#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine#quinnhughes#quinn hughes#jack hughes x oc#jack hughes one shot
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wake me from this eternal slumber, rumor has it, a kiss is all it takes; i'm no fairytale but your lips might make me one.
jh86 x reader: you've sworn off frat boys, but maybe just one more?
(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (m on f) yay! we love exceptions, fingering, hair pulling and lips and limbs and all my usual stuff (you guys know what i'm about). idk just please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)
(a/n: well, favorites, my ex was in pike in undergrad, so you can thank him for 18k worth of a fantasy-level frat romance (i know, it's too much, i need to cut it down, but i can't. this is how i'm dealing with my breakup. leave me be). and, actually, don't thank him. thank me, because i worked really, really hard on this <3. there are a billion things that i ask you to take for granted, like how i included too many side characters, so i know it will be confusing, but i needed sleazy nh13 in there, okay? and i needed starboy pitcher lh43, and cc22 falling for his postgame reporter, and tz11 not being able to catch, and qh43 being a pawn in a president x president love story featuring alex turcotte. all of it was necessary for my healing process. i wanted to write something in which someone can drop into your life and rewrite all of the things you believe to be true. some star-crossed shit. so, this is my best shot. what is love, after all, but leaving your window open for fratboy jh86 to climb into? i was never actually in greek life, so all of this is based on what my friends have told me (sam is based on my irl best friend, fun fact). forgive me for any plot holes and inconsistencies. please, please, tell me what you think, because i love when you do, and tell me what you want next. thank you for your support. thank you for indulging my silly whims and most delusional daydreams. tell your snakes i love them. getting pretty busy up here in the real world, but until next time. go canucks. all my love).
this day, the first day of classes, had been a real disaster, honestly. what had been the worse part, even? it was hard to decide, with so many natural contenders.
would it be the alarm clock of your roommate, which had gone off for twenty minutes, until you had to get up yourself and shake her awake? or maybe the pop quiz in your lecture, on the very first day, when you forgot to do the reading? but, no, we can't forget the back to back to back texts from that guy, the one who mistook your general friendliness as romantic interest.
it had been a terrible day, genuinely, but this might be the worst of it, you thought, as you stood outside the tke house, on the sidewalk, waiting for your friends. your friends, who said they would be out ten minutes ago.
it was getting kind of brisk outside, and your outfit, compliant with the finance bros and business hoes theme, wasn't keeping you very warm. you looked down at your phone, tried to will a text from one of them into existence. you just wanted to go home, which, honestly, you probably should have already done by now. your sorority house was maybe a five minute walk down the row, but you didn't want to abandon your friends, and you didn't really want to make the walk alone, in the dark.
you could go back inside, you knew. but, this day had sucked, and you weren't in the mood to dance on an elevated surface tonight.
you opened the text conversation with your roommate, typed almost out? and hit send, before a deep voice pulled your head up.
"miss, is that an open container?" you looked up to find a stout officer of campus security shining his flashlight on you and your red plastic cup.
of course, because today was terrible, today would be the day that security cracks down on their no-open-containers-on-the-row rule. of course.
you looked into your solo cup, swirled around the pink liquid. what could you even say this was? the officer could probably smell the vodka in it from where he stood, a few feet away. honestly, it was probably better to just come clean. you'd get, what, a citation? hopefully a warning, if you could conjure up some tears?
you sighed, opened your mouth to spew some sob story, but you were cut off by some goofy voice coming from the door.
"there you are, baby!"
both you and the officer turned to face the voice, now an approaching figure.
your eyes narrowed as you tried to make out a face from the dim street light. you certainly were not anyone's baby. and you were fairly certain the only people who could have been wondering where you were would be the friends you came with, who had much more feminine voices.
before you could tell this guy he had the wrong idea, though, he slung a heavy arm around your shoulders, used it to pull you close to him before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, gentle, doting, fleeting.
you were about to shove this guy off of you, as he had obviously mistaken you for someone else.
"thanks for holding my drink for me," he said, then, taking your cup from your hand and downing it in one go.
you swallowed, your mind buzzing, not just with confusion but with the weight of his body against yours, the ghost of heat from his lips on your temple, the slightly muddled sandalwood scent of him so close. was he covering for you, this stranger? this stranger, who definitely could see your face, now, so there was no one he could be mistaking you for.
was he just being nice?
"'course, baby," you mustered, letting yourself lean into his embrace, hooking an arm around his waist. if he was going to get this officer off of your back, you'd let him.
your savior turned to face the shorter man in front of you both, as if noticing him for the first time. "oh, good evening, officer," he said, ever the gentleman. "can i help you?"
as the officer explained his presence with a gruff tone, you turned your neck to look at the face of the man who currently had his arm around you, whose lips on your forehead you could still feel like a purpling bruise.
you looked up at him, and your stomach flipped, because he was just so pretty. so much so that it flooded your gaze, made him hard to take in all at once. that fairytale profile, cut jaw, sharp cheekbones, soft slope of a nose. long, dark lashes that framed light blue eyes. grown out hair that curled around the brim of his backwards baseball cap, which read the letters tke in bold font. full, pink lips you had the sudden urge to tug on with your teeth.
uh oh, the gossip in your head whispered to her friends. we've seen this before. we know how this ends.
you could have shushed her.
"as you can see, officer, there's no liquid here, at least not anymore," the tke boy above you said with the voice of an experienced sweet-talker, smooth and sugary. "we wish we could be of more help, don't we, baby?"
he turned his gaze down to you, meeting your eyes directly for the first time. oceanic amusement met your careful skepticism, so electric and charged you swore the streetlight above you began to flicker.
"sure do," you said, reluctantly fixing your gaze on the officer and away from the mesmerizing face next to you.
the short man looked unconvinced, but switched his flashlight off anyways.
"have a good night, sir," you added, to which he muttered something and walked in the other direction.
you waited until he was out of earshot before lifting that warm arm from around your shoulders, crossing your own arms over your chest. "right," you began, "so, do i know you, or something?"
he tilted his head, let a bemused smile slant across his face, completely lopsided, completely endearing. "or something," he said, his eyes glinting, brimming over with mirth.
you furrowed your brow, shifted on your feet. "why did you come out here, then?" you asked. "and what was that whole act for?"
he sucked on his teeth for a moment, during which you took in his whole frame, his wide shoulders, tall build, strong stance.
uh oh is right, you thought to yourself, clasping your hands behind your back.
he shrugged, the movement making the muscles in his shoulders tense. you looked at your feet. "saw you come out here by yourself," he said, simply. "just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong."
you narrowed your eyes, which made his gaze shimmer again.
"then i saw you with the security guy, and he's been camping out recently for their open container policy, so i figured i'd-"
"you figured you'd pretend that we're together?" you raised a brow. "awful dramatic, don't you think? could have just smacked the cup from my hand." you cringed internally as soon as you said this. you'd felt his hand on your side, and there was no chance that soft touch was capable of anything so harsh.
he just took a step closer to you, though, and part of you wanted to back away, but you didn't. you couldn't. "maybe i had selfish motives," he added, "maybe i wanted him to think i could pull a pretty girl like you, hm?"
you gave a slight scoff, the smallest shake of your head, before looking up at him again, finding him closer, looking at you like you were something special. something he wouldn't find again.
"okay, you can turn off the charm, now," you warned, more for your own sake than his. "what's your name?"
he stuck out his hand to shake yours, which felt wholly odd, given you could still feel his lips on your skin, like a brand, a scar. "i'm jack," he said, and you took his hand, gave it a shake as you offered him your own name in return.
"and you're in tke?" you asked, half-hoping he would laugh, nod you off, say that fraternities were stupid. hoping he wouldn't be a frat brother, so that he might still be on the table. so that you wouldn't have to walk away from him knowing exactly how he would hurt you if you gave him too much of a chance, too much of yourself.
he nodded though, and you could have sighed in disappointment. he was so, so pretty, but pretty wasn't good enough for your no frat boys rule. not after last time. "are you in a sorority?"
"no," you said immediately, shaking your head. this was a lie, you were in alpha phi, but you were hoping he'd lose interest as soon as you denied it, as so many greek-life boys did.
the light didn't blink out from jack's eyes though. "you must have a walk ahead of you then, if you're not on the row," he said. "i'll walk with you, it's dark."
you peered up at him, dubious. what was his angle, here? what would he have over you if you said yes?
luckily, you didn't have to answer, because you heard your roommate's voice from the door, now walking towards you. "'m so sorry, didn't see your text," she said, walking right past jack and pulling you in for a hug. "of course we can go. let's go back to the house, yeah?"
you nodded, returned her hug.
"the house?" jack's voice asked, to which your roommate pulled away from you, looked at him.
"yeah, a-phi," she said, skeptical. "um, who is this?" she elbowed you.
"this is jack," you explained, "he saved me from a safety citation. jack, this is my roommate, sam."
he nodded to her, which she returned. if jack had put together that you had just lied to his face about being in greek life, he didn't call you out on it, only smiling that goofy grin at you again, the one that awoke butterflies in your stomach, the one that had the street light rolling its eyes at you.
"well, jack, we're off," sam said, linking her arm in yours.
"goodnight, ladies," he said as the two of you set off down the sidewalk. "until you next need saving, baby."
you shook in a disbelieving laugh.
"baby?" sam whisper-screamed at you.
"i'll explain later," you told her.
you did explain later, that night, when the two of you were taking off your makeup in your mirroring vanities.
"i'm sorry, what?" sam said when you had finished recalling the night. "he quite literally kissed you?"
you flushed, waved her off. "barely," you said, "on the head."
"okay, sure," she mused, patting toner into her face. "sure, as if this isn't the longest you've talked about a guy since last year!"
you sighed. "it doesn't matter," you said, trying to make yourself believe it. "he's in tke. and i've sworn off frat guys, you know this."
"oh, i know this," she replied, "but rules are made to be broken."
"that's not right," you sing-songed.
"don't talk back to your president," she sung right back at you, using her position in the sorority as a trump-card, as she was so prone to doing.
"he's probably just like the rest of them," you reminded her, and yourself, "he's charming and sweet and lovely until he gets what he wants, and then he's gone."
the words hurt as you spoke them, jagged and sharp in your throat, like shards of glass. it hurt to think about your history with frat guys, the ones you'd let get close to you.
the guy from pike whom you had been seeing, sort of, for half a year, who had relished in the chase of it all, been so caring until you finally slept with him. and then he acted like you were nothing, not even worth a text. he had acted like you were crazy, delusional, for thinking your relationship went any deeper than sex.
he had all but laughed at you when you had suggested anything different. "i don't, like, do labels," he had told you. "you know that, right?"
you shuddered, now, thinking about how stupid, how utterly childish he had made you feel. thinking about how you had given the next guy, the one from lambda, a chance, about how he had done the same thing, with slightly different words, on a slightly different timeline.
you refused to feel that way again.
sam just shrugged. "i don't know, love," she said, "the way he was looking at you, back there, i swear, it was special."
you scrunched up your nose. "i'm not changing my mind. it's not worth it. he's not worth it."
something in the back of your mind twisted, though, because there was a trace of disbelief in your tone.
"whatever you say," sam said.
"now, tell me about your progress on project peace treaty," you said, hoping to change the subject, referring to sam's crush on the tke president.
one of your other friends had come up with the moniker after sam had been voted president herself, like a relationship between the two leaders would be some kind of deal between nations.
sam pretended to faint in her chair. "i don't know how much more obvious i can be," she whined. "i swear, i can't tell if he's just quiet or if he wants me to get the fuck away from him."
you rolled your eyes. "there's no way he's not into you," you said, and you meant it - sam was your best friend, and the best person you knew. if there was a way not to like her, you were unfamiliar with it.
she just shook her head. "you haven't talked to alex," she said, solemn. "he's, like, impossible to read." she shot you a look. "not all of us can have a tke brother wrapped around our finger after meeting once."
you threw a pillow at her, laughed her off, tried not to dream that night about starry blue eyes and soft lips on your temple.
the week passed, slowly, defined by welcome back mixers and new classes, new faces.
before you knew it, it was friday. you were exhausted, but you only had two classes today, the first of which passed quickly, the second of which was ballroom dance 101.
you had already had your first ballroom class on wednesday, so you knew it was fairly laid back, a good way to get some unit credits, a place to move around a bit before the weekend. you were, however, taking it alone. sam had been planning on taking it with you, but then an opening for a class she really needed had come up, and you had insisted you'd be fine on your own, that obviously her major credits were more important than this random elective dance class.
and it was fine, truly, if not a little less fun without her there. you waited patiently for the instructor to arrive, watching the little circles of friends stretch and chat. you leaned your back against the wall, crossed your arms over your chest, let your mind slow until you felt a presence next to you.
you glanced to your left, felt your heart stutter as you did a double take. "jack?" you asked, almost incredulous. if he looked pretty in the night, he looked downright distracting in the daylight, today in khakis and a polo shirt.
"hey, baby," he said, maybe a trace of smugness in his voice as he mirrored your lean, your posture. "how're you?"
this felt like a trap. he felt like a trap. your eyes narrowed. "you're in ballroom? since when?"
"since i switched into it, yesterday," he answered, simply and plainly, before his mouth quirked up. "is that what the experts are callin' it? just 'ballroom?'" he gave a facetious nod. "i like it. drop the 'dance,' 's too bulky."
you rolled your eyes, but laughed nonetheless. "we went over this kind of expert vocabulary on day one," you said with a shrug, "sorry you missed it."
the instructor clapped her hands, signaling her arrival, before beginning a stretching sequence on the floor.
"you're gonna dance in khakis?" you whispered to jack, who had taken the spot next to you as you both leaned forward to touch your toes.
"was i supposed to bring my tux?" he asked, which made you choke down a laugh. "or are we doing some kind of breakdancing i'm unaware of?"
"what, you don't have your handstand mastered?" you teased, "if you insist, but that's the foundation we're building from, just warning you."
"students, focus!" the instructor demanded, shooting you a glare, which you acknowledged with a nod before sharing a guilty smile with jack, like kids caught laughing too hard on the field trip bus.
after class, the both of you were planning on walking back to the row, so you just walked together, chatted pleasantly. the street was pretty in the daylight in a way it wasn't at night. there was something to be said, you thought, about being able to see everything clearly, about knowing exactly what you were looking at. and sure, there was beauty in mystery, and there was beauty in danger, but there was beauty in comfort, too.
"so, do you think i could get your number?" jack said, as you both turned the corner, the tke house now in clear view. his smile was easy. "for all the questions 'm gonna have about the tango?"
you let out a little laugh, thought for a moment. it was just your number, after all, and he said it was for class. it probably didn't mean anything. it was probably safe. "okay," you said, taking out your phone, handing it to him, "sure." your mouth quirked up as he put in his information, sent himself a text. "don't know how much help 'm gonna be, though."
he handed your phone back to you, that halfway grin on his pretty face. "you're right," he said, making his way towards his front door. "if anything, you'll just distract me from the steps, lookin' like that and all."
you looked down, shook your head, felt the gentle heat of a blush on your face. "focus up, then," you chided, gripping the straps of your backpack.
"oh, i'm focused, baby," he called out, "just not on dance."
you rolled your eyes at him as he smiled at your reaction, both of you saying your goodbyes. you heard his front door shut only when you had completely turned away, began to walk the few houses down the street.
when you got back to your room, you flopped down on your bed, breathing into your soft comforter, until you heard the door swing open again. you looked up.
"all good?" sam asked, raising a brow. she threw her bag and keys on the floor by her desk, slipped off her shoes, hopped up onto her bed, opposite yours.
"yeah," you said, sighed, then laughed, short and breathy. "remember that guy from last weekend?"
her eyes went wide, now alert. her posture straightened. "uh, your valiant hero in the face of danger? of course."
you laughed, then, more naturally this time, hugged a pillow to your chest. "he's in my dance class." you looked down at your hand, examined your fingernails. "and i gave him my number."
sam squinted at you. "okay," she said, slowly. "i know what i think about this, i think you know what i think about this." she tugged her hair elastic down, freeing her hair from the ponytail it had been in. "what do you think about this?"
you sucked on your teeth, thought for a moment. "i don't know," you said. "i guess i'm just confused. and worried. and i don't think i want him to text me first, but i also kind of want-"
a buzz from your phone interrupted you, and sam tilted her head back and groaned. "that's him, isn't it?" she asked. "that's definitely him."
and it shouldn't have been, you thought, there was no way it was him, because it had been what, ten minutes? you knew frat guys, and you knew it couldn't be him.
it was.
forgot to ask if you were coming tonight, he had texted, followed by told you you're distracting lol.
"i knew it," sam said, shaking her head, "i'm like an oracle. it's a gift, i know, but it's also a burden." she gestured for you to speak. "what's he say?"
"asked if i'm coming tonight," you said, looking up at her, "in all lowercase. and he said lol."
she waved you off. "non-issue," she declared.
"but, like," you pushed, giving her a look, "who taught him to use all lowercase?"
"doesn't matter," sam continued, "he called you baby and kissed you on the forehead. he gets a lowercase pass."
"so you're the oracle and the lawmaker?" you asked, teasing.
sam nodded seriously. "and the president," she finished.
you laughed, then sighed, began typing.
"what're you saying?" sam asked, leaning forward on her bed, as if she would be able to read your screen.
"just that 'm not going," you said. not tonight sry, you sent, followed by you might want to get that distraction thing checked out.
sam nodded. "what was their theme tonight? something bad, right?"
"country bros and rodeo hoes," you answered with a grimace.
"who the hell is in their little think tank?" sam asked, shaking her head, "'m gonna tell alex if they do the bros/hoes thing again a phi isn't coming."
you were nodding in agreement when your phone buzzed again. then you'll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow? he had asked, followed by any chance you wanna come watch my friends' baseball fall game?, followed by maybe more exposure will help w my distraction problem :).
you bit your lip, looked up at sam. "what?" she asked.
"have plans tomorrow morning?" you said as you typed. thanks for the invite, you sent, followed by can i bring sam? and can you bring alex?
"of course not," sam said, "it's saturday morning."
as long as you'll be there, you can bring anyone you want, he texted back, followed by alex is in!
see you there :) you said in a final response.
the field @ 9, he sent, followed by thank you!
your brow furrowed at this, because what was he thanking you for? what had you promised him, in this interaction, besides just seeing him? surely that wasn't enough to warrant a thank you?
you cleared your throat, tossed your phone aside. "well, you do now," you said to sam. "we're going to baseball tomorrow morning."
sam groaned. "those guys suck."
"alex is coming," you tried.
"i love baseball!" sam said, straightening again. "and soph is covering it for the paper, so we can support her, too."
you laughed. "so easily convinced, eh?"
"you don't wanna talk to me about being easily persuaded," she sing-songed. visions of easy grins and high cheekbones flashed across your mind, and you knew she was right, so you let it rest.
the next morning, as the two of you walked to the baseball field, sam was reminding you about the plight of being the president.
"we've warned her a million times about what she's posting," she told you, out of breath, referring to one of the freshman who didn't seem to understand your house's social media rules. "i don't know how many times i can remind her politely before i just start smacking cans out of her hand when someone takes their phone out."
you laughed as you rounded the corner by the field entrance. "i say resort to violence," you said, "i hear it's always the answer."
sam groaned while you smiled. "look, there they are," you whispered, spotting him and jack over by the stands. suddenly all evidence of sam's unhappiness was mysteriously gone. her face was the image of alert interest. you imagined you probably looked a little more nervous as you approached where they were standing.
"gentlemen," sam greeted the pair of them as you approached. "good to see you." she shot a wink alex's way. he appeared completely unaffected. "'specially you, handsome."
you and jack shared a gentle smile at sam's boldness, and it felt like a secret language, the kind you make up with your friend during a playdate, the kind everyone understands but that feels extra special, anyways.
"hi, sam," alex said, plainly, but you caught the faintest of a pleased look in his eyes before he nodded to you in greeting.
"thanks for coming," jack said, although when he said it he was speaking directly to you. there was a fluttery feeling in your stomach that you scolded into submission. then he offered you his arm, and you decided that the butterflies were probably here to stay, at least for now. "shall we?"
you exhaled, had the feeling that touching his extended arm would be like touching a loaded gun, dangerous and daunting, but you took it anyways, found him warm and comfortable against your side as you fell into step together. "i'm, uh," you started, testing your limits, "i'm happy you texted."
jack shook his hair from his face. his returning smile was nothing short of stunning. "yeah?" he asked, which had your mouth feeling a bit dry. "made you happy?" this fact seemed to make him especially pleased, proud.
"what, no arm for me, al?" came sam's abrupt voice from behind you. alex appeared horrified by this nickname. "that's fine, i have enough arms, anyways. three would be overdoing it, i think."
you coughed, turned your gaze back to jack. you felt the force of his attention like a suckerpunch to the stomach. "yeah, i, um," you tried, "thanks, i guess. for inviting us."
his soft features lit up with amusement at your uncertainty, obvious discomfort. he appeared just on the verge of laughter, but it didn't really feel like he was laughing at you, somehow. you knew what being on the bad end of joke was like, and this didn't feel like that. maybe you were just distracted by how his mouth curved around his almost-laugh, slow and delighted. "of course, baby," he said, and you sort of wished he would stop calling you that. for your mental well-being, he really needed to stop calling you that. he tugged you slightly closer to him as you made your way towards some empty seats in the stands. "can i have the seat next to you?"
and you let out a little laugh, then, as you sat down, made a motion as if to wipe off the seat to your left. "all yours," you said.
he hummed, something sparking in his eyes as he sat down, which had you rethinking your words, the gravity of them. you couldn't bring yourself to regret them, though, if you were honest. how could you regret them, when they made him look at you like this? like there was some worldly truth in the blush on your cheeks?
the cracking sound of a bat pulled you from your daze. "so, who do you know on the team?" you asked, eager to push the conversation towards something safer, something that didn't have your neck feeling hot, didn't make the arm rest between the two of you feel like something cruel.
he turned his head towards the field slowly, reluctantly. "11, 22," he said, pointing to where they stood, one tall, the other shorter, broader. "trevor and cole." he smiled. "they aren't very good."
you huffed a laugh. "they're on a d1 team," you chided, "so they must not be terrible."
"we still have no idea how they made the team," jack replied, shaking his head. "you'll see, swear trev can't catch a ball."
"and they only took on cole 'cause he's good with media," alex added from the seat on the other side of jack. "he's their backup backup catcher."
sam snapped her fingers. "cole, like cole caufield?" she asked, her eyes widening when alex nodded. sam looked at you. "he's the one soph's been talkin' about. the one she interviews all the time for the paper."
you laughed in recognition. your friend sophie covered almost every baseball game, and apparently a certain backup backup catcher had been giving her a lot of grief whenever she tried to get a useable quote.
"oh, and 43," jack said, pointing to the lanky kid on the pitcher's mound. his smile turned bashful. "'s luke, my younger brother."
your stomach flipped at how his gaze had softened. "didn't know you had siblings," you said, although you didn't know much about him, so you guessed that made sense.
he just nodded. "older brother, too, you might know him, actually."
"'s in tke with you?" you asked, to which jack made some affirmative sound.
"yeah," he said, "quinn, 's close with nico."
you hummed in recognition, picturing their faces, noticing the similarities. "right," you said, "you guys do look similar."
his smile turned indulgent as he tilted his head. "'m better looking though, right, baby?" he asked, and his voice dripped with confidence, but you felt a strange compulsion to reassure him, anyways, could somehow sense that this was important.
so you just ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, gauging what to say, here, how much you could reveal. "i think you're pretty, jack," you said, and it was soft, low, for him. your eyes caught on his for a blazing second. "you know i do." and it was true, you knew he was aware of the way he affected you.
his gaze grew hooded for a moment, which terrified you, a horror-movie jump scare, a reminder of the reason you made your no-frat-boy rule in the first place.
luckily, as always, sam had something to say. she scoffed. "don't know about that," she said, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs over the seat in front of her. "quinn's a straight ten." she gave a satisfied smile, looked to her right. "say, al, d'you think you could set me up with him? you guys are close, right?"
alex didn't answer right away. he shifted slightly in his seat.
"c'mon, from one president to another, think you could help me out?" sam gave a dreamy sort of sigh. "he's got a real face on him, and ever since he's grown out his hair-"
"'m not setting you up with him," was alex's short reply, cutting sam off, not quite looking at her.
you knocked jack's knee with your own, mirroring smiles on your faces.
sam just pouted as the game started. "don't have to be such an ass about it," she said, but you could tell by her face that she had accomplished exactly what she had set out to.
you weren't really a baseball fan, but this particular game flew by, probably because of the shaggy-haired, full-lipped person sitting to your left.
the slow pace of the game was cut with conversations about the party tke threw last night (it was lame, jack insisted, and his knowing, shy grin gave you a hint as to the reason why), which led to a conversation about who picks the themes (a board of esteemed individuals, apparently).
"i know it's just nico," sam said, rolling her eyes. "tell him that if he keeps up with the bros and hoes thing a phi isn't coming."
this actually appeared to alarm alex. "you're not serious," he said.
"as death," sam said, nodding.
alex promptly took out his phone and started to text someone. you had the sneaking suspicion it was nico.
jack asked about what you did last night, which led you to talking about your favorite movies.
"you've never seen scream?" you asked, practically confused.
he just shook his head, something glinting in his eyes.
you scoffed. "you have to. it's the best."
"you'll have to show it to me, sometime, then," was his response, which had you blushing, which had you wanting to.
cole never went in, as was expected. he seemed to spend the majority of his time goofing off in the dugout, throwing paper cups at his teammates, then turning away like he had no idea how they'd been hit.
luke threw a great game. he was the kind of player that drew your attention, that you just knew was good, even if you didn't know anything about the sport.
trevor only batted once (he leaned his shoulder into the pitch and took his walk). as an outfielder, he didn't see a ton of action, only getting one real shot at a catch, of course fumbling an easy out, much to the dismay of his teammates.
cole put his head in his hands but welcomed his friend back to the dugout with open arms.
the game ended with a win for the good guys, and you found yourself sticking around, all because jack wanted to wait to congratulate his friends and brother. he extended a hand to you to help you up from your seat, his grip firm and warm against your palm.
your group of four walked down to where the players would exit. you were surprised to find the silence especially comfortable, easy.
at some point, jack slapped his thigh, lightly. "i meant to ask you, baby, what's your coffee order?"
you gave him a confused sort of look. "just hot coffee with oat milk," you answered, almost wary. "why?"
"for next time," he answered, like it was the easiest thing in the world, maybe the most obvious.
you swallowed down how touched you were by this. it felt like ginger, like something you know is good for you but that feels foreign, harsh, anyways. "how do you like your coffee, then?" you asked.
"sweet," he answered, with a smile that made you feel like he knew something you didn't. "really, really sweet."
a chaotic presence shook you both from the haze you'd settled into. "oh, hey, guys." you turned, found your friend sophie there, hands full with a clipboard and her bag and a voice recorder. she pushed her hair from her face. "how's it going?"
"all good, soph," sam answered. "you?"
sophie blew out a breath. "will be good once i get a couple quotes," she said, "just hope they don't give me twenty-two. readers want quotes from impact players, and-"
"sayin' 'm not an impact player, love?" came a goofy approaching voice. you turned again to see cole coming out of the now open exit gate.
sophie groaned. "tell me they're giving me someone else," she pleaded, to which cole grinned wider. "tell me they're giving me someone who played, today."
cole rolled his neck, cracked his knuckles. "might wanna turn on your recorder," he advised, "you're gonna wanna get this."
sophie just rolled her eyes and pulled him to the side, beginning a short interview about the game as you continued to wait.
shortly after, trevor walked out, grinning when he registered the group of you. jack slung an arm around your shoulders as his friend approached, which you noticed. which you would have questioned, maybe, if he didn't pull you into his side in the best of ways, if his touch didn't make you basically delirious. so delirious that you reached a hand up to hold his, dangling from your shoulder.
you could almost hear his satisfied smile as trevor clapped alex on the shoulder in greeting. "packed the stands for us, eh?" he asked, to which alex laughed.
it was the most emotion you'd seen from him. sam appeared very confused, crossed her arms over her chest. "great game," she said.
"yeah," jack continued. "my favorite part was that gorgeous catch in the sixth." he nodded. "seamless."
trevor scoffed, waved jack off. "almost had that one," he insisted. "was this close." he brought two fingers up to show just how close he had been to making that catch.
"you were not," came another voice. you recognized the tall figure as jack's younger brother.
jack clapped his hand in a handshake, congratulated him on the win. you echoed the sentiment, stuck out your hand in greeting, which he shook. "really good game," you said, "i'm-"
"know who you are," luke said, to which you furrowed your brow.
"how?" you asked. luke shared a look with his brother, halfway amused, halfway bored.
jack cleared his throat. "might've mentioned you," he said, but it came out like a mumble, a murmur into your hair.
your heart felt too big for your chest, for a moment. the peanut gallery around you faded away, suddenly it felt like it was just the two of you, standing here. just the two of you, in this universe. "been talkin' about me?" you whispered, and you couldn't help but lean a little more into his side, your grip on his hand growing a little more substantial, a little more confident.
because you'd been someone's secret before, someone's wyd text late at night, someone's nobody, really, someone's a friend. you knew what it felt like to be traded up for, like an old phone, to be the just old enough model that someone looked for someone else, someone newer.
it felt a little spectacular to be someone to write home about, someone to be seen with in broad daylight, someone to be gushed about to a brother. maybe it just felt spectacular to be that kind of someone for jack, in particular.
"a bit," jack breathed into your ear, the softest, probably most uncertain you'd heard him. like he didn't want to scare you away.
you bumped your hip against his. "real chatterbox, hm?" you whispered, adoring the ghost of a flush up his neck, the shy smile he couldn't seem to hide.
"only about stuff that matters," he said, and whatever joke you were going to say died in your mouth, tasted bitter.
luckily, cole and sophie approached, drawing your attention away.
"good to go?" alex asked, to which cole nodded, a smug smile on his face.
sophie huffed. "i don't know why they give me you every damn game," she exclaimed, shoving her recorder and clipboard into her bag. "as if you could give me a useable quote if your life depended on it."
cole scoffed. "i can't help it if your questions are boring as hell," he said. "why don't you ask me something interesting?"
"like what?" sophie asked. "what do you propose i ask you?"
"to dinner next week," cole answered immediately, his smile more of a toothy smirk, and sophie groaned, shook her head.
"i'm out," she said, taking a quick right. she made eye contact with you and sam. "i'll see you back at the house, tonight, girls?"
you both nodded, called out your agreement and goodbye.
when sophie was out of earshot, trevor clapped cole on the shoulder. "don't you get tired of striking out, coley?" he asked.
"you don't seem to, trev," luke observed, to which jack let out a laugh.
"hey, i got a single out of today," trevor argued. no one seemed to view that as the victory that he did.
cole and trevor eventually peeled off to the athlete's dining hall to get lunch, while luke walked back to the row with the group of you, saying something about grabbing a shirt from quinn's room.
when you all made it back, standing in front of the tke house, jack reluctantly retracted his arm from your shoulders. you felt cold without it.
luke headed up to the door.
"luke, tell quinn i say hi, would you?" sam asked, to which he gave some confused confirmation, before disappearing into the house. sam then turned to alex. "a pleasure, as always, al," she said, barely sparing him a second glance.
"yeah, bye?" alex said, almost a question, obviously wary of sam's change in pace.
jack touched your hand, pulled your gaze to his like two magnets, eliciting some kind of shield between you and the rest of the world. "thanks again for coming," he said, so soft, you could feel in your bones that he meant it.
"'course," you said, found it strange that it was entirely true. of course you would come when he called you. of course you'd indulge his every whim, when he asked so politely. "see you on friday? for dance?"
and he gave the slightest of pouts, but it drew your attention to his mouth nonetheless. made your cheeks feel hot, your heart beat fast, nonetheless. "too long, baby," he said, and you could have rolled your eyes at his boyish whine, but you never would. not when he was whining for you.
you just stayed quiet, let yourself smile, slightly. "maybe before friday, then?"
he grinned as if some plan he'd formed had turned out exactly as he'd hoped. "i'll text you," he said, giving you that fairytale smile, and you'd been told that before.
you'd been told that before, during nighttime hours that passed like slug across rain-drenched walkways. you'd been told that while in boxer shorts that weren't your own, standing in a doorframe that was practically laughing at you.
i'll text you, you'd been told, from some guy on his bed, on his phone, not quite looking at you.
and the doorframe might have cackled at how desperate you seemed, then, desperate for something you'd never get from this guy in the room you were leaving.
kick rocks, girl, the doorframe might have said, you know how many i've seen come in and out, even just this week? and you really think you're special?
but, right now, jack told you that he'd text you, and you couldn't find a doubt in your mind. you knew he would.
you proved to be right. the weekend flew by, because you were busy, yes, but also because of the near-ongoing text conversation you had fallen into with jack.
he might ask you something about the classes you were taking (besides ballroom), to which you would shyly tell him about some finance discussion you found genuinely interesting.
you might ask if he played sports at all, like his brother (he played hockey growing up, but wasn't good enough to play in college, like luke was with baseball), to which you would tell him you found it hard to believe that he could ever be not good enough at something.
and you'd believe it, too, wholeheartedly. sure, he had this ease to him, this softness, but he also seemed to possess a specific kind of eagerness, a delicious sort of hunger you felt must lead him to the things he wanted without exception.
you wouldn't admit it to anyone who asked, but he had you smiling at your phone on more than one occasion, had your heart beating a little faster with every notification. he had you dreamy. it was a good look on you.
that's how he had you, just over the phone, so the feeling was amplified by a million the next monday afternoon, after class, on your walk back from the business building, as you passed the tke house. a walk you'd taken a hundred-something times over the years, but this time was different, because your name was being called out of an upstairs window.
your heart stuttered, because you recognized that voice, in its confidence, in its goofy gentleness. you stopped walking, looked up, searching for an open window.
"that you, jack?" you called back, when you found it, found him leaning out of the pane with a smile you could see from where you stood. even though you knew. even though you'd never mistake his tone for anyone else.
he gave a pout. "who else?" he asked, and it was careful, calculated, even though it was playful. like he really wanted to know who else you thought would call your name from a window. like he really wanted to be the only one.
"oh, no one," you assured him, beginning to walk down the sidewalk again, towards your house, "you're my only romeo." you'd meant it in a joking way, but you could tell the first three words were the ones that mattered to him. the ones that would echo in his head. you're my only.
this made him light up, made him glow like a disco ball in a middle school gymnasium. "look so pretty today, baby!" he said, in response, before the distance between you grew so stark.
you flushed, wanted to feel the word pretty from his mouth against your neck, wanted to swallow it down. but you just smiled. "only today?" you asked, wondered where this confidence had come from, tried to imagine you saying that to anyone else. you couldn't.
"come back tomorrow, just to check!" he called out after you, making you shake your head, look down at your feet.
you weren't even back to your front door yet before your phone buzzed. not just today, he'd texted you.
i knew what you meant :), you sent back.
just didn't want you to think differently, he replied, followed by spend a scary amount of time thinking about how pretty you are.
the following day, you'd be lying if you said a smile didn't bloom across your face as you walked back after class, as you approached the tke house. maybe it was some pavlov response, but it was probably because you recognized the figure sitting on the window pane on the top floor, swinging his legs, just looking out, like he was on the top of a pirate ship.
you smiled, but your pulse stuttered, a bit. "jack?" you asked, although of course you knew it was him, that perfect facial structure, shag of soft hair. "is it safe up there?"
his gaze fixed on you, alight with flame and amusement. "worried 'bout me, baby?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes, but something in you twitched, because you were, actually. when did that happen?
"why're you hanging outta your window?" you asked, because you didn't need to tell him that you cared that much about him, not yet. you barely wanted to admit it to yourself, even.
he seemed to take your deflection as confirmation, anyways, to see right through you, as he typically did. his grin ticked up, a beautiful combination of a bashful blush and confident smile. he pushed his hair from his face. "knew you'd be walkin' by," he said, swung his feet up and back gently. "had to catch you."
you swallowed, ran your palms along the straps of your backpack in delighted disbelief. "you were waiting for me to walk by?" you asked, still not quite understanding.
he only nodded, tilted his head, gave the softest of smirks. it was almost too much. "don't you know you've got me waitin' by the phone, baby?" he asked, melodic. it was almost like he was making fun of you, with that teasing tone, but you knew in your heart that he wasn't. that he would never.
cherry-blossom pink bloomed across the bridge of your nose as his confession registered in your mind. the thought of him throughout his day, acutely aware of his phone in his pocket, his heart racing at every buzz, like yours did. "bein' so patient, are you?" you asked, the words smooth and drowsy in your throat, like cough syrup.
he hummed, swung a leg back over the pane, starting to shift his body back inside. "'m here when you need me, baby," he said, matter-of-fact, absolute. his gaze sharpened, the temperature of it rising to a scorch you felt like a slap. "or when you want me."
it was something sort of breathtaking, how honest he was with you, from the beginning. how he seemed perfectly content just waiting for you to come to terms with the attraction you felt so deeply. the attraction he could see in your eyes, in your breath, in your words.
you were scared, though, because this was the before part. and the guys you'd had before had appeared genuinely interested during the before part, too. it was the after part you were concerned about.
because what if he lost interest as soon as he had you, like the other guys did? he seemed so different, and so genuine, and sure, you'd never thought anyone to be as beautiful as him, but what if he wasn't different? what if he left you, too, standing alone, dumb, a desperate fool?
how many times had a beautiful trick forced your hand? you shivered at the thought, but the romantic in you wanted to believe. in yourself, in him. she wanted to believe in the love story between the beautiful trick and the desperate fool. she needed to.
the following day, perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, as you approached tke house on your walk back, to recognize jack's familiar figure in his front yard. he appeared to be making progress closer to you, day by day, from inside his room, to outside his window, to now, just next to the sidewalk.
the scene you approached wasn't necessarily a rare one, not on the row, but it might appear odd to an outsider. a few of the brothers, some that you recognized, were sitting on a couch that they had obviously moved from inside, while a couple others, jack included, were lounging on adirondack chairs. most of them had computers out, doing work, or something like it. and, of course, because it was a sunny afternoon, all of them, save for one, were bare-chested.
you weren't especially sensitive or judgmental when it came to that sort of thing, but, as you got closer, you found your cheeks growing hot, anyways. you were embarrassed like a kid, like you'd been caught with something forbidden, and you might've walked right by the house, avoiding eye contact, if jack hadn't made that impossible.
"tryna sneak by, baby?" he called out from his chair, teasing, his posture so distractingly relaxed, knees spread wide. he waved you over with a knowing smile. "c'mere," he said, but not like a demand. like a request, sweet-sounding from his full mouth.
and you'd do just about anything he asked, so of course you exhaled, turned on your foot, walked nervously from the sidewalk onto the lawn, over to his chair. you nodded your hello to nico, on the couch, on your way, finally stilled in front of jack's chair.
your heart was pounding, your palms felt damp. he'd called you baby, in front of all of his friends, like you weren't something to hide. the opposite, actually, like you were something to show off, someone to be proud of. he looked at you like you were worth something, and he looked so beautiful, drenched in sunlight, so stunning that your throat felt tight.
"hi," you said, internally smacked yourself at how lame you sounded, how dumb.
"hi," jack parroted, his smile growing as he shut his computer, set it down on the ground next to him. you suspected he could probably feel your nerves, your distraction. you suspected he was delighted in it. and that made you feel a bit better, at least. to be his delight, for the moment being. "you know quinn, right?"
you turned your eyes to the chair next to jack, to a face you recognized, the only one in the yard wearing a shirt. "yeah," you answered, giving quinn a small nod, which he returned. "hey, quinn."
the older brother gave you a small smile. "hey," he replied, "heard your sam's been askin' about me."
you laughed, twisted the sole of your sneaker into the grass slowly. "she has," you confirmed, although you highly doubted her interest was genuine. "very recently, at least."
quinn just laughed, gave a slight shake of his head before turning back to his computer. he knew something you didn't, you could tell, but you couldn't focus on that, right now, not when jack's voice called you back from your curious state.
"wanna sit?" he asked, spreading his legs wider as if to make room for you. you scrunched up your nose, slightly, in thought.
"you're not busy?" you asked, sort of shaky, shifting on your feet.
he shook his head, gave his thigh a soft pat in invitation. "wanna hear about your day," he said, and you could have swooned.
you set down your backpack next to his laptop, on the grass, let him pull you onto his lap. you settled into his chest, crossed your feet over the far armrest, rested your hands in your own lap as he draped a heavy arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.
you tried not to ruminate too hard on how warm he was, how his bare skin seemed to spark against you like an electric shock. jesus, had you ever been so awkward?
"nervous, eh?"
you looked up at him, found his smile lazy but his eyes attentive, almost concerned. you nodded, because who could lie to those eyes? "you make me nervous," you said, plainly, because it was true.
he fixed you with that starry gaze, his mouth dipping slightly into something like relief. you were confused, your brow furrowing as he took your hand in his free one, brought your fingers up to his neck, just below his ear. he pressed your index and middle finger into his soft skin until you could feel his pulse, until it vibrated through you.
until you could feel just how fast his heart was beating. you felt molten, all over, like day-old valentine's day chocolate over a flame.
you rubbed careful circles into his neck, as if to soothe the underlying pace. "like you just ran up the stairs," you said, and it came out like a whisper. jack just huffed a laugh, let his hand fall to the top of your legs. there was something mesmerizing in his eyes when he looked at you, then. "thank you," you added, a breath.
"make me nervous, too, baby," he said, so soft only you could hear. his mouth twisted into a teasing grin. "'m just better at hidin' it."
you rolled your eyes, but relaxed deeper into him, all the same, leaning your head back on his extended arm, shifting across his lap. "guess 'll have to get better at it, then," you said, a small smile on your face.
he just shook his head. "hope you don't," he told you. "hope you never hide from me."
your tongue felt too big for your mouth, then, so you just asked about his day, told him about yours, felt yourself grow more and more comfortable with each passing second, as the sun peeled across the sky like a sweet orange. you had homework to do, but you lost track of time, talking with him about everything and nothing, about nonsense and significance. you found yourself hanging off of his words like they were his lips, found yourself laughing so genuinely and sharing more with him than you had with a new person in a long, long time.
his laugh rang in your head like church bells. everything he said to you felt like a secret, like something just between the two of you. people moved to and from the lawn as you spoke, as you listened, but neither of you seemed to notice. the hours melted away in moments.
"jesus, there you are," came a loud voice from the sidewalk, pulling you from your bubble. you turned, found sam, a hand on her hip, looking right at you. "would it kill you to answer your phone?"
guilt bloomed in your chest. you hadn't thought to check your phone in what must have been an eternity. you quickly picked yourself up from jack's lap to grab it from your bag, caught a glimpse of his pout, which made your stomach flip. you scrolled through your notifications, winced at the texts you'd missed, mostly sam asking where you were. "i'm sorry," you said, looking up at her, and you meant it.
sam didn't hold grudges, though, had better things to do. it was one of the things you loved about her. so she just waved you off, approached you where you knelt next to your phone. she tilted her chin up at jack in greeting before noticing his brother. "'sup, quinn," she said, pushing her glasses to the top of her head. "didn't get the tarps-off memo, did you?"
quinn looked up, smiled right back at her. his gaze darted to the front door of the house and back in a second, almost undetectable, but you noticed it, noticed quinn's grin grow almost devious. "sorry to disappoint, sammy," he said, emphasis heavy on the nickname, his eyes settling on the door again. he coughed, nodded his head. "hey, uh, alex."
you bit your lip to stifle a laugh, shared a look with jack, who touched your shoulder lightly. just to say are you getting this? just to say i'm right here with you. as if you'd forget.
sam spun around to face alex, who stood on the front steps, hands in the pockets of his shorts. he wasn't looking at sam, though. he was glaring daggers at quinn, who was acting oblivious, practically humming contently in his seat.
"excuse me?" sam's voice was pitched. "what the hell are you wearing?"
your eyes widened as you registered the front of alex's t-shirt. it was a pretty pale yellow, with some bid day slogan on it, over three identical triangles. alex was wearing something tri delt.
you felt jack lean forward, his mouth right by your ear. "that from this year's bid day?" he asked. you nodded slowly, so as to let the scene unfold in front of you without disruption.
alex just looked down at his shirt, shrugged, appeared to be the picture of confidence, even arrogance. "what's the big deal?"
sam rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest. "tri delt, al, really?" sam sighed, then began to pull at the sleeves of her own sweatshirt, tug it over her head. of course, she was wearing only a bra underneath. of course, she didn't care.
quinn laughed, let out a whistle.
jack's laugh shook through you as he leaned forward, rested his forehead on your shoulder blade. you grinned at the intimacy of it, of letting him hide his laugh in you.
sam exhaled again, her sweatshirt now in her hand, which she extended to alex as she fixed her glasses. "here," she said, impatient.
alex narrowed his eyes, took the blue mass of fabric, pulled it over his head.
sam didn't wait to see him put it on, like she didn't need to check, instead turning on her heel, in pajama pants and pretty much nothing else, and began to walk back towards the a phi house. she gestured your way, "let's go, you," she ordered.
you scurried to grab your bag, pushed up on your feet, touched your fingers to jack's chin, lightly, before making to follow her. "movie tomorrow?" you asked, emboldened by hours of comfort, of being made to feel comfortable.
"yes, please," jack said, and the way he smiled up at you was something of dreams. "i'll text you, yeah?" you nodded, turned to run after your roommate.
"pleasure as always, madam president," nico called out from the couch, to which sam scoffed.
you caught up with her, hugged her into your side. "feeling feisty, eh?" you asked.
"tri delt," she said, biting, "what a moron, honestly. who does he think he is?"
you laughed. "i don't think he's thinking about anyone in tri delt, right now," you tried.
"and don't think we're not talking about you," she said, wagging a warning finger at you, "disappearing for hours, just for me to find you in the lap of a," she gasped dramatically, for emphasis, "frat boy!"
and you did talk about it, later, in the comfort of your room. you talked about jack, and how special he made you feel, and how patient he was with you, and how different he seemed.
and you talked about how scared you were, how you were so worried that as soon as you gave him any more of you, he'd take it all and run like blue and red flashed in the rearview. how you were more scared now, probably than ever before, because of how ready you were to give him whatever he wanted, and after such a short time of knowing him, too. to give him all of you, if he asked.
or, at least, to give him enough of you that, if he did run, he would leave nothing left.
sam listened, and asked questions, and talked for a long while, but the gist of it was that sometimes good things are scary. sometimes to be scared is to care, and sometimes to care is to be human.
"jesus, just look at me," she said, "make a fool out of myself on the daily for that scumbag, and look where it gets me." she sighed. "minus one sweatshirt and plus one poor boy calling me sammy."
you laughed. "you're a lot of things," you mused, "but you're no fool."
unlike you, foolish one, some voice in your head taunted, low and mean. your nose twitched.
sam hummed. "so, i should be out of the room tomorrow night?"
you groaned, hung your head in your hands. "it's a terrible idea, right?" you asked. "of course he's going to think something specific when i asked him to watch a movie at my place, hm?"
she just laughed at your anguish, put her hands up in surrender. "hey, you asked him," she pointed out. "not like he snapped you u up? at three a.m."
you scrunched up your nose. "i guess," you said.
"you make the rules," sam reminded you, "you set the pace." she fixed you with a look. "but you seem to like the fast track, love." she gestured to her cheeks. "you're glowing with it."
and maybe she was right. but you didn't feel like you were glowing, the following night, the night jack was supposed to come over.
you'd fussed over your hair and your clothes and your general being, made and remade your bed, folded all the clothes in your closet, as if he would be doing a thorough inspection.
you felt scattered, scared, so devastatingly nervous. you caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror, almost flinched at the lack of confidence you found, the physical embodiment of anxiety. it seemed to web under your eyes like spiders, seemed to coat your skin like dull plaster.
it was sort of odd you felt so anxious, you thought, because you trusted jack. you trusted him so much, so truly. brutal memories had your sense of security all twisted around, though. at the moment, you couldn't quite grasp his lips against your temple, you couldn't tangibly touch his kind smile, didn't have the echo of his reassuring words in your ear.
you just felt crazy. crazy for wanting to trust him, somehow even more crazy for not being able to just let go. how badly you wanted to let go of the past, of your insecurities, of your fears.
it was almost like you were being pulled between two realties. you felt the stretch in the lines on your palms, in the seam of your mouth, in your breastbone. it was a pull between the kind of fear you found some deranged sort of certainty in and the future, what could be, what you could almost taste, if you'd just let yourself relax. if you'd only let yourself enjoy it.
why do you have to remember every embarrassment and failure? some voice in your head screamed, why can't you just be normal? you swallowed around your sadness, because he'd probably want someone normal, right? he probably wouldn't want you.
as if summoned by your despair, your attention was pulled upwards by a knock on your window, a few quick raps. you squinted, were shocked to find jack's pretty face on the other side of the glass.
you lived on the first floor, so it wasn't necessarily unsafe, or anything, but the front door was right there, and he was early. he was early, and you looked like a mess, felt like an even bigger one.
still, you walked over to the window, pulled it open. "what're you doing?" you asked, cleared your throat to hide the shake in your voice.
his blue eyes flashed with something like recognition, gone again in a moment. "am i too early?" he asked, like some impatient kid on christmas morning. "i can wait by the front door for another hour, if you want." you could have sighed in his voice, this specific tone that calmed you like lavender, the one that was almost making fun of you, but not quite.
even in your chaotically disorganized state, you just left the window open, stepped back. "'course you can come in now," you said, welcoming him in. you gave him a bit of a laugh, but it sounded kind of sad as it came out. "'m sorry about all this," you said, giving a rough gesture to your room, yourself, as you sat at the foot of your bed. "i'd probably have fixed it by the time you were supposed to get here."
he climbed into your room, and the sight was so intimate it made your chest contract. when he looked up at you, confusion dripped down his gaze like candle wax. "what do you mean?" he asked, coming to sit next to you, warm and easy. "fix what?"
you gave him a half-smile, genuinely believed he was just being polite. "i know i look crazy," you said, running your fingertips under your eyes. "i feel crazy."
his eyes filled with kind concern, not pity, but just care. he tentatively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulled you into his chest in an embrace that felt like a midday nap, exactly what you needed. "then i'm happy i couldn't stay away, crazy girl," he said, and it was so soft it hurt. "tell me." a request, only because he wanted to know. he wanted to know you.
and, after a sigh, you did tell him, just as you'd told sam. you told him about how scared you were, about how you could feel how he was different, how you knew it like some philosophical principle, but how you were terrified, anyways.
you told him about how dumb, how juvenile and stupid you'd felt, over and over again, just for wanting to be taken seriously, just for wanting someone to deem you worthy of something longer than a night. just for wanting someone to stay. you told him about how you'd had people be so sweet and kind and caring, but they'd still left after they'd gotten what they'd wanted.
and you sort of felt pathetic as you spoke, and you half expected him to laugh, to tell you that you were like every other girl, expecting un-promised things from some poor guy. but, of course, he didn't. of course, he just held you to his chest, listened to you the entire time, his thumb rubbing circles into your upper arm.
"i don't want you to think that i think you're a bad guy," you made sure to say, looking up at him, "and i don't want you to think that i don't care about your life, and your anxieties, and stuff, just because i'm rambling about mine." you let your eyes flood with everything you were feeling. "but i also don't want you to think i'm disinterested, or bored, or something."
he hummed, and it was quiet, for a moment, as your words rolled around his head. "what do you want me to think, then?" he asked, finally, gently.
you leaned your head on his shoulder, thought for a second. "i want you to know that i'm into you," you landed on, and the truth tasted sweet on your tongue. "and i want to ask you to keep being patient with me, please." your mouth quirked up. "like you already are, i guess."
his smile was something dreamy before he pressed his lips to your hair. "how about this?" he said, a murmur, "how about you let me try to convince you i'm staying, hm? trust me to?"
you found yourself nodding.
"and if you want something, you just ask me, okay, baby?" he amended. "ask me, and i'll be here. promise."
you looked up at him through your lashes. "thank you," you breathed, after a pause, because a promise was something special. him being so soft with you was something special, too.
he gave a slight shrug, his smile almost a smirk. "you told me you're into me, baby," he said, like that explained everything.
you just laughed into his shoulder, felt fear melt away, dissolve into the air. "what did you come over for, again?" you joked, because you were supposed to be watching a movie, and instead you'd unloaded all this information on him. instead, you'd told him how you felt.
but he didn't seem to hear the joke in your tone. "to see you," he said, simply, making you flush.
eventually, you watched the second scream movie, which was your favorite, and you asked about his day, and you continued to add to the filing cabinet of information about jack that existed in your mind. eventually, the dim light and night air made your words slow and your eyes droopy. eventually, the two of you fell asleep.
when your eyes fluttered awake, sunlight poured in through your curtains like flour through a sieve. your limbs felt stiff, your neck tight, having fallen asleep in an awkward position, but your head was clear, not foggy at all. you'd slept scarily well.
a slight shift on your mattress drew your attention, and your eyes widened when you registered jack, still asleep, still in the clothes he'd come in last night. you looked around to find your laptop on the floor, jack's sweatshirt halfway off the side of the bed.
checking your phone for the time, you mouthed a curse, because you were already late for your eight a.m. you must have forgotten to set your alarm for this morning. admittedly, you had been awfully busy last night, in a comfortable sort of way. you'd had much more important things on your mind than today's lecture, namely the way jack's voice grew rougher as the hours passed. namely, how he shared things with you like he trusted you with everything, like he knew you'd take care of him.
you silently rose, crept to the bathroom to brush your teeth and quickly get ready. when you emerged again, you were relieved to find his eyes still closed.
he looked so peaceful, like this, so blissful, almost angelic. the morning sun settled on his face, the crown of his head like a halo, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.
as you pulled on a different shirt and shorts, you couldn't help the small smile that stretched across your face. because, you remembered, you'd told him everything, and he had stayed. when you looked over at him, he didn't disappear. he was really, genuinely there, and had felt comfortable enough in your bed, in your space, to fall asleep with his arm under your neck, with his knee grazing your hip.
only when you picked up your backpack did he stir, reaching a hand to rub over his face, stretching with a groan that made you blush. when he retracted his hand, resting it up against your headboard, his sleepy gaze found yours. he smiled, an instinct, a compulsion. you smiled back. "tryna sneak out on me?" he said, yawning halfway through.
you approached the side of the bed he was laying on, by your nightstand, bent down and sat back on your heels so you were close to eye level with him. "no," you told him, honestly. you pushed his hair back from his face, and he hummed at your touch, eyes drowsy, getting used to the light from the window. perhaps still getting used to the light of you. "just didn't want to wake you."
he exhaled, and you felt the heat of it on your arm. "going to class?" he asked.
you nodded, smiled. "but i'll see you later, maybe?" you asked, hopeful. "i'll text you?"
"please," was his reply.
before you pushed up from your knees, though, you bit your lip with indecision. "jack," you began.
"yeah, baby?" he asked, almost confused, certainly intrigued.
"remember when you said to tell you when i want something?" you tone had grown cautious.
"'course," he said, reaching a hand forward, under your chin, to keep your eyes trained on his.
you swallowed, shifted. "i want something."
he smiled, shy, in a flash of teeth, just so, so pleased. "anything," he answered, sleep now gone from his gaze, replaced with something sharper, something beautiful. "anything." he said it like a plea.
you breathed out, searched his eyes, then leaned forward slowly, pressed your lips gently to his. only for a second, soft as anything, barely there, before making to pull away again.
then his broad hand was on the side of your face, though, guiding you back to his mouth, this time harder in commitment but not in force. the positioning was kind of awkward, with him propped up on his elbow, and he tasted a little bitter from the morning, and your heart felt like it was buzzing, but it was perfect. it was perfect, all of it, because it was with him.
no running away, his kiss seemed to scream at you, not from me.
you hoped he could sense your promise by the way you reached an arm around his neck, by the way you relaxed into his mouth, practically a sigh of relief.
he felt like lazy laundry days and laughing in the kitchen and pinkie promises. he smelled like worn-out cologne from the night before. he felt like trust, and belief, and something meaningful. he felt like something, someone, you could get used to. someone you wanted to, at least.
you both pulled away, at some point, only just barely, enough to catch your breath. you ran your nails along the nape of his neck, watched his glossy gaze settle on you.
"'m really gonna be late, now," you said, dumb, but you didn't really care. you had greater things to care about, it seemed.
he laughed, and you felt it in your fingers. "they're lucky they're getting you at all," he said, and it was a rasp. his smile grew lopsided. "or maybe 'm the lucky one."
you gave a slight shake of your head. he just said these kinds of things, and he didn't think about how they'd make your vision spin. how terribly inconsiderate. "i'll see you later?" you clarified, giving his shoulder a squeeze before getting up, lugging your backpack on.
he nodded, still a bit dazed, it seemed.
the thought made you smile. "bye, jack," you said, on your way out.
"bye, baby," he called out after you, a sing-song. you could hear the happiness leaking from his voice, could almost taste it.
time passed quickly and blissfully, from there. the semester began to rush forward in a flurry of classes and chapter meetings and philanthropy obligations, all which were cut with movie nights with jack in your room, nights on which he slept over more often than not (you swore every time he came over he stole a different sweatshirt of yours. your closet was starting to look scarce, but whenever you saw him push the too-tight sleeves up on his forearms, you couldn't find it in yourself to mind), dance class on friday afternoons (you didn't know how someone could be so tragically terrible at ballroom as you seemed to be, but you looked forward to it, all the same), parties at tke on the weekends (you grew to know his friends and brothers and their girlfriends, grew to be a part of their little world).
tonight was one of those parties, and you were in your room, trying to figure out what you were going to wear, before sam burst in the door.
"we're not going," she said, plain and simple, sitting on her bed.
you looked at her with a raised brow. "why not?" your eyes widened. "what did alex do?"
she rolled her eyes. "it's not alex," she explained. "i told nico no more bros and hoes bullshit a long time ago, and he didn't listen." she shook her head, as if disappointed. "what is the theme, if not golf bros and tennis club hoes?"
you gave a light laugh. "so we're actually not going?"
"nope," sam declared, "already put it in the chat. a phi is boycotting."
as if on cue, you received a text from jack that read coming tonight?
haven't you heard, you sent back, a phi is on strike :)
you accepted his almost instantaneous face-time request, grinning as his pretty features filled your screen. "what do you mean you're on strike?" was his immediate question.
"hi to you, too, jack," you teased, your stomach flipping when his eyes filled with something soft.
"hi, baby, 'm sorry," he amended, and his voice was genuine.
you waved his apology off lightheartedly. "i'm under strict presidential orders," you told him, "apparently nico didn't heed the warning about the bros and hoes thing."
jack groaned, then looked away from the screen for a second. "they're not coming," he called out to someone, "like, actually, all of a phi is not coming."
"and we're not budging!" sam called out from her bed.
"is that sam?" came another voice from jack's end. "put her on."
and so the phones were passed to alex and sam, respectively.
"c'mon, sam," alex said, the most emotion you'd heard from him in a while. "you guys need to come out. we need you there."
it was true, sort of. they needed girls there, and a phi was plentiful with pretty smiles and kind laughs.
"no can do, al," sam said, smug. "tke needs to learn their lesson."
alex blinked.
"will you put nico on, please?" sam asked, syrupy sweet. "i have some choice words for him."
"no, you can't talk to nico," alex responded, short.
"what's the deal, madam?" came a very nico-sounding voice, off screen. "it's a good theme, eh? think you'd look great in a tennis skirt."
you rolled your eyes.
"what, won't let him talk without his lawyer present?" sam pressed.
jack's laugh was bright. you felt it through the screen.
"he can talk to you when he puts a shirt on," was the curt response.
you smirked. alex was not doing a very good job of shielding his emotions, not anymore.
"you know me better than that, don't you?" sam asked, almost offended. "not one to get distracted easily by a bare chest."
alex sighed, rubbed a hand over his face.
"are you saying you get distracted by nico's abs, al?" sam continued. "i mean, i get it, even if i can't relate personally."
"you're not talking to him, sam," alex said. "our theme for tonight is not up for debate. it's too late."
sam gave a dramatic sigh, appeared deep in thought.
"well, can i talk to quinn, then?" sam said. "not for any reason, really, just want to see his face."
you bit your lip out of frame, smiled, because you had a feeling jack was doing something similar. you had a feeling that if you were in the same room, right now, you'd be sharing a knowing glance, a hidden laugh. you felt warm with that knowledge.
"quinn's busy," alex bit out. you could almost hear his grinding teeth.
sam just gave a theatrical pout that had you giggling.
"shame," sam said, a winning smile on her face.
you heard alex's deep exhale. "you're killing me, here, beautiful," he said, a sigh. your eyes widened. was alex finally breaking?
sam just hummed. "'s that my sweatshirt you're wearing, al?" she asked. "color looks nice on you."
then she handed the phone back to you, walked from the room, and when you looked down at the screen, alex was gone, too, leaving only the soft slope of jack's nose, messy hair in his face. "hi," you said, a smile bubbling free.
"hi," he parroted. "if you're not coming, then, what're you doing tonight?"
you shrugged. "probably just watching a movie here," you said. "nothing crazy."
his nose twitched, his eyes shone with an unasked question.
"wanna join?" you asked, loving the way his face lit up at your invitation.
he sucked on his teeth, and your stomach coiled with heat at the sight. "think 'm technically supposed to be here," he said, to which you pouted. "but i might be able to sneak out."
"sneak outta your own party?" you asked, a light laugh on your mouth like a sparkly gloss.
"for you," he added, which made your laugh settle into something dangerous.
you scrunched up your face in delight. "'ll leave my window open, then," you said.
"thank you, baby," he said, waited for you to hang up first.
you did leave your window open, let the cool nighttime breeze ease in, blowing your curtains slightly, the edges of your sheets by your feet. you were comfortably on your side, your mind quiet as your eyes lazily took in your computer screen.
the tassels on your drapes seemed to sing at jack's knock on the window pane. the fixtures in your room seemed to relax, the wood of your desk turning malleable, the light on the ceiling to burn hotter, dimmer.
play it cool, you wanted to shush them, the way you whisper to your friends in middle school when your crush walks past your locker, just act normal.
your smile crept up on you, slow and genuine, as he swung his other leg over, shut the window again, immediately kicking off his sneakers and collapsing on top of you, the weight of him almost oppressive against your chest, your face.
you laughed nonetheless, wrapped your arms around his middle to hug him closer, to breathe him in. you felt his neck relax, his heavy head hang just above your shoulder. he let out a breath, like he was exhaling everything heavy. like he was making space for you in his lungs, in his chest, in his being.
you rubbed gentle circles into his back over his sweatshirt. "successful jailbreak?" you murmured, your voice muffled into his chest.
he pressed his lips to your shoulder, gently, before rolling off of you, soft as anything but sparking heat between the two of you nonetheless. "you've made a fugitive out of me," he joked, laying an arm over your torso and pulling you into his side.
"sure they won't be missing you?" you asked, brushing his hair from his face. his eyes simmered with something lovely.
he gave a shrug you felt through your whole body. "if i was there, i'd be missin' you," he clarified in explanation. of course, your heart stuttered like a shy kid giving a speech at an all-school assembly.
"i'm glad you're here," you said, soft, the words not feeling like nearly enough. you hooked one leg around his, tangling the two of you further, then rethought your action.
because you'd known guys who'd groan at this kind of thing from you, who would warn you not to start something you couldn't finish, who would call you a tease or something much meaner.
but, of course, jack did no such thing. he just relaxed deeper into the position, nodded towards your abandoned computer. "what're we watching?" he asked.
you swallowed. it struck you as weird, that his endless patience and kindness sparked something hot in your stomach, that you wanted to give him anything and everything, all because he would never demand it of you.
his hand on your back suddenly felt heavy, his leg under yours too warm. you hummed, tilted your head up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.
you could feel him smile against your lips. "what's that for, baby?" he asked, rough.
"for you," you answered, simply.
you felt his pleased exhale in your bones as he took your chin in his hand, led your mouth to his in a deeper kiss, this time, one that felt like coffee mugs with lipstick on the rim, like good morning texts before you wake up, like burning fireplaces in the winter, fragrant and lively. "so sweet for me, baby," he mumbled against your mouth.
you sighed, ran your fingertips along his jaw, found courage in the blue of his eyes that willed your nerves away. "can i have something, please?"
"anything," he answered, softly, immediately, as he always had.
you ran your tongue along the inside of your cheek, wondering what you were actually asking for. "i just want," you started, uncertain, then started again. "just-"
you cut yourself off with a shaky exhale, reaching an arm around his neck, shifted your body until you were on top of him, kissed him with something feverish in your veins. he let out some kind of whimper-ish sound, so strained, so desperate, as his hand found your hips, held you to him with intention.
you kissed him like you were burning, like you needed him to taste the flame of your want, like your desire was some burden you couldn't possibly shoulder alone.
he didn't seem to mind, anyways, quite the opposite - he kissed you back like he'd take anything you'd give him, like the fire you were exuding was water in a drought, like you were some fabled savior. like you were saving him.
you pulled gently at the hem of his pink sweatshirt, or yours, rather, withdrew slightly to help him tug it off. he was so beautiful, always, but especially now, glowing in the light of your bedroom, flushed entirely because of you, eyelids heavy with attraction.
you stilled, straddling his hips, his back against your headboard as you traced the veins in his arms with your fingertips.
his thumbs slipped under your sleep shorts, rubbed feather-light circles into the flesh of your hips. "tell me what you need, baby," he said. "whatever you want, swear it."
you bit your lip to dull your smile, because you realized, in that moment, that there was no semblance of fear in your mind. not even a drop of doubt. you knew, that no matter what you gave to him, no matter how much of yourself you offered up, he wouldn't leave you, dumb and ashamed, standing alone in some taunting doorway. he'd stay.
the fact made unfiltered want flow through you, powerful as a river after heavy rain.
you met his gaze with a confidence that hadn't been there in a long time, that he seemed to pull from you with ease. you rocked your hips against his lap, relished in the strain you saw in his eyes. "wanna feel you inside me," you rasped, continuing to shift back and forth. "wanna make you feel good, hm?"
you felt his groan in your teeth as he flipped you on your back in a single, swift motion, left messy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your neck. he didn't saw anything about how long he'd been waiting, about how long you'd made him wait, and you had a feeling it was because he genuinely didn't care.
you had a feeling the only thing he cared about, in this current moment, was the feeling of your collarbone under his teeth, the way your hands rooted in the curls of his hair, the not-nearly-enough friction of his grinding hips against yours.
you both twisted and tugged clothes aside, hurried, almost crazed, until you could take him in your palm, hard and hot, run your grip up and down his length, urging a groan from his throat that you wanted to taste. his exhales were so, so labored as his hips jerked towards you involuntarily.
your eyes widened, because you'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be with someone like this, to be with someone whom you trusted entirely, someone whose pleasure you could feel as deeply as if it was your own. it made your blood feel volcanic as it beat from your heart.
"please, jack," you begged, and his overwhelmed gaze found yours, again.
"i know, baby," he cooed, running his fingers through your folds, cursing under his breath at how wet he found you, from barely being touched. all from him. your grip around him faltered as he pushed two fingers inside of you, the stretch immediate. "i know." you cursed, shut your eyes as he thumbed your clit, making your breath feel heavy in your mouth. he retreated further. "just wanna taste you first, baby, please?"
you just nodded, perfectly happy to give him any he wanted. then his mouth was on you, his tongue slow, methodical, as you tugged at his hair, your face pinched in pleasure.
pressure coiled inside of you as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit, making your back arch up of your bed, the friction dreamy.
the weight of him pressed your hips down, heightening the sensation, making each motion of his fingers feel like an eruption of flame, each swipe of his tongue feel monumental.
you choked out a whine of his name, pulled on his curls just a little harder, lewd, slick noises echoing in your ears. "more," you breathed, to which he groaned, rocked his hips against the bed, desperate for some kind of friction, some kind of relief. the sight had you clenching around his fingers.
"not enough?" he asked, his voice gentle, the fervor of his motions anything but. "need more, do you, pretty thing?" you nodded, whimpered a please, which had him pulling his deft fingers from you, shifting closer to you. he angled his cock to your core, held your hips down with his other hand. he hummed. "you can have it, baby."
your eyes fluttered shut as he began to push inside of you with a moan that you swore made your lampshade blush, made the conservative hangers in your closet shake their heads, disappointed. you grasped at his forearm with a reaching hand, fisted the other in your cotton sheets, the texture heightened in your palm.
you felt the stretch everywhere, half expected your bedroom to crack in half, to feel the pressure just as acutely as you did. "almost there, baby, 'atta girl," he bit out, "fuck, feel so good for me."
you whined at his words, at the feeling of him all the way inside of you, that perfect stretch that gave way to something deliriously good as he began to move and in out, slow, deep.
you felt your eyes roll back, as if in slow motion, as you dug your nails into his arm, shuddered at the sensation as he pressed your hips harder into your mattress. "'s so deep, jack, fuck," you breathed, careful as a wince.
he held the top of your headboard with a steady grip, increased his pace. when he spoke, his voice was gritty. "that okay, baby?" he asked, shifting your hips to make you more comfortable, to make the angle feel better. "how's that?"
"so good," you moaned, raw, "feel you everywhere."
and it was true. he thrust in and out of you at a mind-numbing pace, with an intensity that burned through your body. time seemed to freeze, or maybe to liquify, to flow like molten rock. to scatter into oblivion, marked in breathy pants and strained moans, desperate kisses and tired muscles instead of minutes and seconds.
at some point, he took his hand off of your headboard, brought it to his mouth, bit down, as if to stifle a groan, as if to distract himself, last longer for you.
the thought shot right to your core, made your head spin faster, that his pleasure might run so deep, because of you, that he needed a distraction from it.
you moved your hand to your clit, rubbing carefully, moaning at the stimulation, which made you clench down, grip him in a maddening kind of way.
he gave a choked moan. "fuck," he grunted. "can't, jesus, can't do it, baby, so wet for me." his voice was a tortured sort of overwhelmed as his hips sputtered, as his pace continued, harder, faster.
he made to look away from you, maybe to sink his teeth into the flesh of his hand, again, but you wouldn't let him, instead reaching up to pull his fingers to your own mouth, press them against your tongue, soothe the angry red mark that had begun to show.
you swore your mind was somewhere else, somewhere shiny, somewhere sleepy, as you felt his stomach and thighs contract, firm and wiry.
"won't last like this, pretty thing," he breathed, a slight sheen on his collarbones, his forehead, shimmery under the overhead light. "so close, baby, feel too good for me." his exhale was unsteady. "so perfect like this."
"want it," you whined, so impossibly close, yourself. "need it so bad, baby, please. want all of it." your eyes met his. "need you."
he seemed to shatter at your words, at your request, his high, warm and hazy, triggering your own, a blur of whines and pleases and his hot breath at your temple, an all-consuming wave that had your vision blurring, had you clenching down on him so tightly.
he collapsed on top of you for the second time that night, this time his skin glowy and damp, the air sticky and humid as you both let your breathing normalize again, as you let your eyes flutter open.
he rolled to your side, refusing to unclasp his arms around your back, consequently pulling you to his chest, your nose against his breastbone. you traced a hand along the top of his spine, so perfectly content, so wonderfully blissful.
with anyone else, now would be the time when the anxiety really set in. now would be the time that the furniture started to hiss at you to get out.
such anxiety was nowhere to be found, though, not now. not with him. his rough hands felt soft on your back as he shifted deeper into your bed, making himself comfortable, making you comfortable, too, in succession.
and even though you knew it, he knew you, just so, so well. "'m staying," he whispered into your hair, "long as you'll let me."
your heart was pink jello in your chest. you pressed your swollen lips to his shoulder. "i'll let you," you promised.
and so your self-proclaimed frat-boy-ban was broken, completely done away with, replaced instead by the most delicious stability.
the already fast-paced semester was made a fairytale blur by your beautiful exception, in all of his endless kindness, his unrelenting loveliness.
how many afternoons did you spend in his lap, out on his front lawn? how many nights did you fall asleep together, tangled up in each other? how many parties started with his hat backwards on his head, but ended with it on yours, instead? when did you start to leave your window open, every night? how many mornings did he surprise you with coffee, remembering your order like it mattered, simply because it was something you'd told him? how many times did his beauty and thoughtfulness surprise you, again and again?
like the time you went with him to a baseball game, an away one, this time, to support his friends and brother, when you insisted that you'd drive. you'd had to stop for gas, halfway through, gotten out of your truck, had only just stuck the nozzle in before he'd come around the side to lean against the door.
you had felt yourself raise a brow, almost confused. "sort of a one person job," you'd joked, to which he'd smiled, leaned back further against the side, just waiting with you.
like he couldn't bear to sit in the passenger seat, alone, not when you were out here, hands idle.
or like the night of your ballroom dance midterm performance, in front of an audience (an audience that included a lot of your friends). you'd stumbled halfway through the steps, nothing crazy, but certainly enough to notice. your face had grown hot, an embarrassed strawberry-milk flush.
but then, across the stage, jack had tripped over his own feet, in a way that looked pretty intentional, if you thought so yourself, as if he wanted to draw everyone's attention for a moment. as if he wanted to keep any potentially judgmental eyes off of you. he caught your knowing gaze as he pushed himself off of the floor, shot you a cheeky wink.
or, like tonight, a phi's blind date formal. this event was always a highlight of the year, at the very least always entertaining, always a good source of drama, of gossip, for a few weeks following.
planning it was a nightmare, from what sam had told you, a disorienting flurry of spreadsheets and communications with different frats and teams. typically, each house was matched with a frat and an athletic roster, and the dates were assigned from there, based on survey results and different requests.
you were excited for tonight, not nervous at all, because you'd requested jack as your date, and sam practically ran the whole thing, so you knew there would be no surprises.
for you, tonight was just a fun opportunity to dress up, to hang out with your best friends and your favorite boy.
the reveal of the dates was one of the best parts of the night. you'd be called upon to come out the door, and your date was supposed to be standing on the front step to walk you to the venue of the formal, just a few blocks away.
you gave yourself a final once-over in the mirror, turned to sam as you slung your clutch over your shoulder. "ready?" you asked, to which sam gave herself a spritz of perfume, nodded. you held the door for her. "did you tell me already if you requested somebody?"
she gave you a grin. "quinn," she said, simply.
you laughed. "you're gonna drive poor alex crazy," you chided.
she just shrugged. "he's driving me crazy, more like," she corrected. "all he does is bitch and moan when i mention other guys, then he wears my sweatshirt like it's all he owns, calls me beautiful, all that nonsense." she gave you a look. "i'm losing hope, love. if he doesn't make a legitimate move soon, i might go for quinn for real, just for all his trouble."
when it was your turn to open the front door, you took a breath, turned the handle, weren't surprised to find that familiar figure on the other side, pink flowers in his hand, his suit fitting him so wonderfully, his eyes softening when they caught on you.
your smile came easily, so naturally, as you approached him. he reached an arm around your middle, pulled you into his embrace by the small of your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you pressed your lips to his jaw in greeting before he pulled back.
"let me get a look at you," he said, soft, holding your hand at a distance, giving you a twirl that made you feel like a princess. he whistled. "i'm the one on your arm, tonight, pretty thing?" he asked, his smile toothy. "must be my lucky night."
you flushed with contentment, ducked into his side. "i'm the lucky one," you insisted, before the door opened again, making the two of you move to the sidewalk as he handed you your flowers, which you accepted with bashful thanks.
sam now stood in the open doorframe, but her wandering eyes narrowed when they landed on the curly-haired boy that stood on the front step. "what the hell is this about, alex?" she hissed.
"you look lovely, sam," alex said, undeterred.
"yeah, okay, thanks," sam said, "you know i requested-"
"i know," alex interrupted. "i vetoed your reuqest." he offered her his arm, which she took, lightly, reluctantly.
"that's not how this works," she reminded him, "you don't get a veto."
"i'm the president," he deadpanned, "of course i get a veto."
"i'm the president," sam retorted, "and i requested-"
alex sighed, turned to face sam, placed his palm over her mouth. "stop," he said, short, "talking."
her eyes narrowed, and jack pinched your side as you took in the sight in front of you. you shared an excited look.
"please be my date, tonight," alex asked, removing his hand from sam's face only after her mouth stopped moving. "for real."
after a brief pause, sam's mouth broke into a wide grin as she looped her arm through alex's, fell into step behind you and jack. "get up off your hands and knees, al," she teased, "'course i'll be your date. waited long enough, haven't i?"
it was a storybook sort of night from there, one defined by shared laughter and good music and gushing with your friends about their dresses.
time passed too fast in a blur of dance-floor spins that made the hem of your dress bloom, gentle touches and laughs into shoulders.
at some point, you and sam took a break by the edge of the venue, next to the refreshment table, having promised to bring jack back a drink. sophie approached you. you smiled, having not really seen her since the last chapter meeting.
"hey, sophie," you said, "this dress is stunning on you."
"thank you," sophie said, genuinely, before her eyes flashed. "if you see cole come up behind me, warn me, okay?"
"isn't cole your date, though?" sam asked.
sophie sighed. "technically, yes," she admitted, "but he thinks i requested him, which i didn't, so now he's being especially persistent."
you tilted your head. "so you got paired together because your survey results matched up? completely organically?"
"i guess," she answered, exasperated. "which i don't get, because we have, like, nothing in common."
"you have a little in common," sam said, "you both love baseball. it's, like, all you talk about."
"okay, so we have one thing in common," sophie conceded. "it's a conflict of interest! i'm supposed to be an impartial reporter!"
you shrugged. "impartiality is overrated," you said, and you meant it. now that you'd settled into being completely honest about how you felt, you couldn't imagine it any other way, couldn't fathom hiding that kind of thing from people that mattered.
"code cole, code cole," sam whispered.
"soph, you gotta stop running away from me," cole said, coming up behind her, shooting her that confident smirk. "tirin' me out, love."
sophie sighed, turned to face him, crossed her arms over her chest.
"care for a dance?" cole asked, extending his hand to her.
her gaze dipped to his fingers, then rose again. "i'll dance with you," she said, which made cole light up with excitement, "if you agree to give me at least one objectively useable quote after ever single game for the rest of the year."
cole blew out a breath like it was the easiest decision of his life. "done," he declared. he gave an enthusiastic fist pump when sophie took his hand and led him to the floor.
leaning back against the table, you and sam scanned the room, laughing at trevor's ridiculously bold suit, scoffing at nico, who was dancing with two girls at the same time, sharing a knowing glance when you registered quinn and luke, sitting at a table on the outskirts, luke's tie completely untied, quinn's tied around his head. the two loners appeared to be engaged in a game of cards with their respective dates.
eventually, you made good on your promise to jack, grabbing two drinks. when you turned your back on the table, he was walking up to you, his face pleasantly flushed, eyes so doting. your smile grew as he got closer. your eyes shut, delighted, when he threw an arm around your shoulders.
"there you are, baby," he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. you were hit with a dizzying sense of deja vu, knowing you'd been here before, knowing so much had changed since the last time you'd been in this position. "thanks for holding my drink for me."
you smiled up at him, leaning into his side, warm and firm against you. it was something magnificent, to have it not be an act, this time. to have it be completely genuine. to have it be real.
"of course, baby," you said, the slight tease in your tone made shimmery by the glint in his gaze.
he hummed, moved his arm down to wrap around your waist, pull you against him as he swayed back and forth to the music. you exhaled, so utterly at peace, relaxed into his chest, tilted your head back to look up at him. he met your gaze eagerly, that smile you so adored overtaking his face like a mural on the side of a building. "what?" he asked.
you shook your head, laughed lightly. because what, really? how could you sum it up? "you," you answered, honestly. "just you."
how could you sum him up? he was one million things. your pretend boyfriend in the face of campus security. your ballroom dance partner. your movie-night, good-morning text, sweatshirt stealer. your window-climber, baseball-watcher, owner of your favorite smile. your tke boy. your exception.
he was one million things, but, when he leaned down to press his lips to your hair, he was only one.
yours.
fin.
#hockey#hockey smut#nhl#smut#jack hughes#jack hughes smut#nhl smut#quinn hughes#trevor zegras smut#jack hughes x reader#new jersey devils#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes imagine#jack hughes fic#luke hughes#nico hischier#alex turcotte#cole caufield
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DRUNK ON LOVE
WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.
PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader takes care of a drunk Quinn Hughes.
Quinn was beyond drunk. It was a rare occasion, as he rarely drank never mind to the extent of it actually having any effects. He thought the hangovers were bothersome and it wasn't exactly recommended as a pro-athlete. But the team, specifically Elias Pettersson and Brock Boeser, had roped him into a few celebratory drinks after their win before Quinn had text Y/N a few hours later to pick him up early with a, “wanna come home now, I’m sleepy.”
Y/N knew Quinn had had enough when she watched him almost trip over his own two feet on his way back from the bathroom with a little "ow,” after denying just that before his looming stature was shuffling down the hallway and his head whipped up to blink at her with drowsy, lidded eyes in the hopes she didn't see. But she did, and just when his lips parted to grumble about it, she laughed. Her laugh was so warm and so pretty, and something that sounded so much like home, that it made him consider trying to actually fall just so he could hear it again.
Quinn made it three steps into the living room before there was a puffy cheeked pout on his face and his eyes were on Y/N as he mumbled out a, "Hey, quit laughing at me." His cheeks were painted red and his hair was messier than usual, but she’s always thought he looked pretty in the glow from the kitchen. He softened as he sighed sleepily and because she loved him, she caught herself sighing too, a content sort of sound.
“Hi, baby.” Quinn greeted, and Y/N could feel her heart melt. He was drunk, yeah, but the buzz was doing nothing to disguise the hearts in his eyes when he looked at her, his gaze glassy and half lidded.
Y/N reached out, brushing the hair off his forehead and he leaned into her touch, his eyes falling closed. “Hi.” She leaned over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Did you have fun?”
Quinn followed her hand back down, letting his head fall against her shoulder, nodding against her skin.
“You’re home early, was everything alright? I thought you’d be out until at least midnight.” Y/N was running her hands through his hair slowly, pressing against his scalp as she combed through his hair, enjoying the feeling of him melting into her. He mumbled something into her skin, nuzzling himself into the crook of her neck. “What was that?”
Quinn lifted his head to look at her. “Said I’ve missed you. Left early.”
Y/N would love to respond to that, really, but it seemed as though she lost the ability to form words; he was drunk out of his mind, and was having a very, very rare night out with teammates, and he left early to come lay in bed with her just because he loved her. It was sappy and ridiculous, and she’s never loved anyone so much and probably never will again.
It was impossible to find an adequate response. Y/N leaned in, pressing kisses to his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, and finally, his lips. She cupped the back of his neck, pressing him close before she rested her foreheads together, soaking in the fact that she was the lucky person that got the sole adoration of the kindest, sweetest, most loving person on the planet before pulling away, sliding her hand down to his chest.
"Are you sleepy, Quinny?" Y/N giggled, a little amused before she narrowed her eyes as he fiddled around with him phone in his hand, rotating the screen clumsily, but the sound of her voice brought his sleepy gaze back to her. He rocked forward with a few slow blinks and another cute pout before he stumbled towards her again, and he really looked like he was in love.
“May have overdone it.” Quinn grumbled from his spot on the floor, holding on for dear life as she was sure the room was spinning for him.
“You think?” Y/N teased, immediately feeling a pang of guilt when she was met with a pathetically needy face from him in return. “Oh, baby, it’s okay.”
"Don’t be mean to me." Quinn drawled, low and a little slurred the alcohol making his usual lazy tone of voice a little whinier before he slumped down between her legs to flop on top of her instead of returning to his previous seat next to her with a grumble.
He looked small like this, no longer her giant protector, but like a younger version of himself who just needed someone to take care of him. Y/N was happy to be that person, as he always was for her. It was a rare occurrence to ever see him like this. He always managed to know his limits, but tonight he just went off the deep end.
Quinn’s arms wrapped around her waist and she noticed the slight fogginess that still laid over his lidded gaze when he blinked up at her from her stomach. Y/N giggled again, shuffling under him and scrunching her nose at his sudden weight.
“Quinn, move over.” She grumbled and he only allowed his bottom lip to jut out into a makeshift pout as his arms around her tighten.
"Don’t want to, it’s comfier here." Quinn huffed, eyes dropping and he knew he was probably going to complain about the ache in his neck tomorrow given the awkward positioning, but right now, he nuzzled into her anyway.
"You’re squishing me.” Y/N added, voice lilting to a tease and he sighed, only moving slightly to guide one of her hands to smooth through his hair before he nuzzled into her.
"Give me some kisses and I’ll get up." Quinn sighed again, but he hummed when her fingers combed through his hair and she knew it was less because he was tired and more because he was home, watching him shoot her one of his more affectionate looks before he placed a softer kind of kiss onto her skin through her clothes.
"Do you wanna get up and go to bed?" Y/N laughed, craning her head to lean forward and place a kiss to his forehead and he yawned before he shook his head and his arms around her seem to squeeze even tighter.
"Nah, don't want to. Just want to stay here a little longer." His words were quiet and she smiled as he leaned forward to place a sloppy kiss to her lips before he rested his chin on her chest. "Pretty thing." Quinn mumbled a beat later, blinking up at her while his words still slightly slurred and she couldn’t help the snort that left her lips when the sudden tender confession left his pouty lips.
“How much did the guys make you drink?" Y/N replied, slightly teasing but she continued to scratch her nails through his messy hair anyway, just to watch him lean into her touch like he always did.
"Don’t ask." Quinn sighed, turning to place a tender kiss to her wrist before his eyes closed again, his voice smoother when it sounded once more like he was steadying himself.
Quinn groaned at the realization of what was coming when he wakes up tomorrow, but he hiccuped before breathing deep and softening. Y/N leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose and she giggled at the way his eyes closed, feeling his fingers squeeze at the dip of her waist when she pulled away.
"No fair, I wasn't done yet." Quinn breathed, and by the tone of his voice she could tell clarity was slowly getting a grip on him again.
Y/N shook her head, amused and leaned in again when he met her half way with a pout, because Quinn taught her that happiness was just as simple as this. Him nuzzling into her stomach between slurred words and stolen kisses as her fingers smoothed through his hair. He was drunk, but he loved her everyday, just the same as always.
“You’re so pretty.” Quinn slurred, the messy pile of hair brushing across her stomach.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight.” Y/N teased gently. “You’re talking nonsense now.”
“Not nonsense.” Quinn mumbled argumentatively, a soft pout to his lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Give me a kiss.” He said, and Y/N rolled her eyes once more, giggling as she cupped his cheeks and peppered kisses across his face, pressing one final one over his lips.
A small, barely-there grin erupted on his face as he leaned into her hands, and she brushed a thumb over his warm cheek. “There. Those enough for you?"
"Yeah.” Quinn happily nodded, head drooping forward as his eyes started to close, and this was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.
Quinn had always done that. He fell asleep on the couch, slumped on the floor against the kitchen counter, in the passenger seat of her car, anywhere but their bed. Y/N can never managed to get him there in time, and a hungover Quinn with a sore back was never a fun Quinn to deal with.
"No.” Y/N warned, tapping his cheek to wake him. "Quinn, do not fall asleep.” She said sternly, and he huffed, lifting his head up with a scowl, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she unbuttoned his shirt.
“I’m tired, baby.” Quinn grumbled. “And why're you trying to see me naked?"
Y/N stared at him with pursed lips as he looked up at her with a raised brow. "I’m not. Now, lift your arms.”
"You think I’m hot? Like what you see?” Quinn grinned, reaching up to poke her cheek. He missed and his body swayed forward as he lost his balance, making her grab him with a sigh. "Hey, keep your hands to yourself.” He snickered, and she almost thought she should let him fall forward to the floor, face first. But that would make him even more insufferable in the morning, and Y/N liked the idea of keeping the remaining bits of her sanity intact. Not that there was a lot of sanity left to keep when she was dating someone like Quinn.
"You are too much.” Y/N snorted, but still, there was fondess as she swept back sweaty locks from his face, tracing over the slants of his features slowly as he closed his eyes and relished in her touch. She didn’t get to take care of him like this often, so she was grateful he was a lightweight, even if he denied that fact to his grave.
"You don’t think I’m hot? Come on, I know you do just a little.” Quinn insisted, letting her finally peel his button down off his upper body.
Chuckling, Y/N threw his shirt across the room as she murmured, "Maybe I do think you're hot, but only just a little."
"Well, I think you're pretty fucking gorgeous.” Quinn poked her hip, sending her a sly grin as she swatted his wandering hand away with a warning glance. "Best I ever had."
"Oh, yeah? Who else you got to make the comparison?"
"No one. Everyone else sucks, so you're best by default.” He shrugged. Her heart melted a little, and she supposed this is what dating someone like Quinn did to her. Taking things he meant as an insult to others as a compliment for herself, but it warmed her up that he saw her as different, as good.
"You’re the best I ever had, too.” Y/N grinned. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, scanning his face for discomfort or distress.
“I’m okay.” Quinn hiccuped back. “Just want to cuddle.” He always became exceptionally affectionate when he got this drunk.
His eyes fluttered open and closed without rhythm as he looked at her, his eyes glazed over with a glassy shine, and his mouth hung open slightly, like he didn’t have the coordination to close it. His pink cheeks were flushed and his skin had a sweaty sheen. His head had rolled off to one side and rested on his shoulder, like his neck had given up on holding his head up, and his arms fell heavy at his sides.
Y/N should have been at least slightly annoyed with him for acting like a college kid, drinking until he made himself sick. It should’ve gotten under her skin and caused a bit of anger to bubble up into her chest, but it didn’t. She was just taking care of her man. “Do you feel nauseous at all?”
“I promise I’m okay, baby.” Quinn said, making himself giggle. His lips lazily curled up into a smile and he dragged a lazy arm up to give the “okay” symbol with his uncoordinated fingers, before the heavy limb dropped back down to the couch beneath him.
They were quiet for a bit, Quinn fluttering his eyes closed as he hummed contently, and Y/N just admiring him in silence. She let her hand crawl into his, interlocking their fingers together before bringing it up to her lips and pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles. Her fingers ran through his still damp hair, initially just to push them up and away from his forehead and eyes, but continued when she heard the little happy mewls coming from him.
“You always take such good care of me.” Quinn said sloppily with a gentle tone, breaking through the bubble of silence they had created together.
“I always will.” Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to his salty forehead and settled back onto the cushions.
“I love you.” He gave her a gentle squeeze as he cheekily grinned.
“I love you, too.” She felt his smile against her skin, and it made her smile, too.
They hadn’t been together for long, with saying the “L” word still being pretty new, and still slightly foreign to both of them. But she meant it when she said it. She loved him, and her body always filled with a blushing warmth when he said he loved her, too.
“Will you marry me?” The question left his lips in his absurdly difficult to understand drawl and it took her a moment to process what he said, but when she did her heart stopped.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to marry him, because she did, but not now. It was too soon. There was still too much for them to do together, too much still to learn about him, and too much for him to learn about her.
“I will someday.” Y/N spoke gently, trying hard not to hurt his currently fragile feelings. She was now holding his face tenderly, like if she held him steady and close, she could lessen the blow.
“So, no?” Quinn looked up at her with his big puppy dog eyes, feeling guilt punch her in the gut.
“For now. Everything is just going so well right now, we don’t have to mess with it.”
“Just want to be with you forever.” He said softly and her heart began to melt. Quinn was such a soft person, who felt everything so deeply and with so much emotion. He was a sap, and she absolutely loved him for it. She pulled him closer to her chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.
“And you will be.” Y/N breathed. “Forever will still be there down the line.”
“Why not now?” His lips held an adorable pout and she couldn’t stop herself from pressing a kiss to them. He tasted awful, like vodka and sweat, but the kiss was loving and sweet as she tried to pour all her love for him into it.
“Because we still have to grow.” Y/N watched the end of his mouth tick up, sure to make some sort of smartass comment about them both being grown already. “We have to grow together.” She finished.
“Yeah, I guess so.” Quinn mused softly.
“I promise that I will say ‘yes’ when we are ready someday.”
“Someday.” He repeated softly, feeling the words on his own lips. “I’m going to keep asking, you know?” He smirked up at her, his smile and joking tone signalling that she hadn’t broken his heart, just bruised his ego a bit.
“That’s perfectly okay.” Y/N sighed, a contagious smile finding its way to her own lips. “I’m going to keep saying ‘no’ until we’re ready, you know?” She teased, using his own words against him.
“One day, baby.” Y/N was pretty sure Quinn was asleep, as he was yawning the whole way through his response, and had promptly flipped over and snuggled into her with his eyes closed, but then she felt his lips press lightly against her neck. “Love you.”
She pressed a matching kiss to his temple, rubbing her thumb against his shoulder. “I love you more.”
#quinn hughes x you#quinn hughes oneshot#quinn hughes fic#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes blurb#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x female reader#quinn hughes x fem!reader#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes one shot#vancouver canucks
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𝐏𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞 - L.H
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - suggestive, and that should be it if not let me know!!, 18+ plus readers only!!
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - in which Fem!reader accidentally puts the wrong perfume on
You were in a rush so you weren’t really paying attention to what you were doing which now looking back you should have. You and Luke were getting ready to go out and celebrate with the team after their win against the Blues, if you guys wanted to be there on time you would’ve had to leave right this second. “Luke, would you give me a second?” You shouted trying to put your belongings in your purse.
You don’t recall putting perfume on before he started rushing you, so you quickly grabbed one of the small glass bottles of perfume that your friend had gifted you for your birthday a few months ago and putting it in your purse. Once you and Luke finally got out the house and on the road you had completely forgotten about the perfume until you guys were sat at a red light, You pulled the little pink glass bottle out of your bag popping the lid off without looking at the label and rubbing it on your neck and wrist.
a few minutes after applying the perfume you noticed Luke taking quick glances at you every once and while, but knowing Luke you didn’t think anything of it. Once you guys got out of the car and started making your way to the doors of the bar you felt Luke’s hand wrap around your arm pulling you closer to him. “Luke!” You gasped due to his nose poking your neck.
“what is that?” He asked pulling you closer then you already were
“what?” You questioned looking up at him confused.
“That smell, did you get new perfume?” He asks grabbing your wrist and smelling it.
“No?, I’ve had this one for a while, why do you not like it?” You asked frowning up at him.
“I love it” he says kissing your cheek then trailing down your neck.
“Luke!” You exclaim pushing his head away from you neck and pulling him inside the bar quickly being greeted by the team, some shouting and some quickly grabbing Luke and taking him somewhere else. You watch as Luke turns his head and winks at you. What has gotten into him tonight you thought.
Later on you decided to sit at the bar with some of the wags and girlfriends of some of the players. “Damn, you smell good.” one of the wags spoke up causing your cheeks to turn a shade of pink. before you could even respond you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and a head hiding in the crook of your neck, “hi baby,” Luke whispered in your ear.
“Hi lukey.” You responded running your fingers through his curls.
“You smell so good,” he said kissing your neck softly and smirking when he feels you shiver underneath him.
“Luke,” you laugh nervously trying to push him away eventually giving up when he doesn’t move but instead slides his hand from your waist to your thighs rubbing them gently, causing your breath to get caught in your throat.
You hear Jack call for him and his hands stop. “Let the girl breathe for Christ sake.” Jack laughs pulling Luke away from you. You watch as jack drags Luke back over to their little corner of the bar before turning back around smiling to yourself after the little encounter with Luke.
“Pheromone.” You hear one of the wags say causing you to snap out of your thoughts and look at the older woman as she looks as if she just solved a puzzle.
“What?” You say confused.
“It’s pheromone, here let me see the perfume you used” she said holding her hand out, and you quickly obliged fishing for the little glass bottle in your purse handing it to her, she laughed confusing you even more.
“What is it?” You asked genuinely confused.
“This perfume, it has pheromone in it” she says pointing to the bottle.
“Oh, what is that?” You asked cheeks turning pink out of embarrassment not knowing if it was a dumb question or not.
She sighs but continues to explain “it’s a kind of chemical that triggers social responses in people the responses mostly being attraction, arousal, sexual desire.. and lucky you, you got the exact one, just for luring men in.” she says smirking at you causing you to hide your face as your cheeks burned red.
“Oh no,” you say mentally cursing yourself. It all made sense now, why Luke was being so clingy and touchy.
“Yep” she says giggling a bit, “your in for a night” she laughs as your face gets redder than it already is.
A few hours later your still sat at the bar talking to another wag a different on this time when two arms barricade where your sat, you turn around meeting a smirking luke.
“Hi baby,” he smiles looking down at you
You let out a long sigh before responding “hi Lukey” you say quietly.
“Ready to go home?” He asks tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your waist drawing random shapes.
“Mhm.” you respond nodding softly.
“Words baby,” he says stopping his movements.
“Yes I’m ready to go home.” you say resting your hand on his arm
“Good girl” his response shooting straight down to your core as he wraps his hand around your neck pulling you into a kiss.
The kiss wasn’t like a regular kiss you guys have here and there, no, this was a desire filled kiss. You pulled away nervously before it could get any further.
“C’mon” he says moving out your way letting you get up before resting his hand on the small of your back pulling you closer to him.
And as you two walked out the bar you knew this was going to be a long night
#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes#luke hughes fanfic#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes x y/n#nhl fic#hockey fic#nhl blurb#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#nhl fanfiction#jack hughes#quinn hughes
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