I Gave You Some F*ckin’ Space

Late Twenties

She/Her pronouns

(Unfortunately American)

Stay at home (and future hockey?) mom

Spend my free time scrolling tumblr, reading incredibly smutty books, and crocheting like an old lady

Getting more active on Twitter for my unhinged hockey thoughts

Teams:

Canucks- I just really fuckin love putting myself through night after night of suffering for small victories.

Devils- I’m spicy and I hate the Rangers. Sue me.

Bruins- again, love suffering at my own hand

Wild- that one defense pair could ruin my life. You know the ones.

Persons of Interest:

Quinn Hughes- something about a man who looks like he’s seen some shit scratches an itch in my brain. Could be that I’ve seen some shit too, could be my daddy issues. The world may never know.

Jack Hughes- part of the world might think he’s cocky or a player, but to me he’s just a cupcake with red and black sprinkles on top. And I don’t like sharing my food, but I love talking about it.

Luke Hughes- as the baby of the family myself, I can’t help but sympathize his life while also wonder how far back I’d have to arch my neck to have a conversation with him. And I’m obsessed with curly hair so that doesn’t help my case either.

Jeremy Swayman- might be cocky, might be passionate, could be both. Idk but scruffy cheeks make me go nomnom.

There are others, I just can’t keep track of them all

Requests currently open for discussion- topics can include:

Specific Headcanons

Fluff- all the love and squishiness, you’ll melt into the pillow

Smut- I’m not above it, it’s how we all got here

Angst- been in my life since birth, no use in dropping the ball now

Asks always welcome- I love talking about random things that make brain go brrr

Would love to keep it positive but if a tkafuck tkachuk gets mentioned I’m not responsible for injuries

Masterlist -> here

Tags:

Tall glass of water- I simply can not simping over the topic and I will never understand why

HNTKfluff- all fluff posts for your viewing pleasure

Club Dennys- actual threats Posts when someone comes after one of my boys.

Can’t explain but sure can yap- the tag I put when I can’t shut the fuck up.

Luke: Does this mean I’m the favorite now

You: not unless you’ve done something stupid I should know about

Luke: nope not falling for that trap

Jack: You can’t just keep ignoring me

Quinn: She can, she’s very good at it

Luke: Yup definitely the favorite now

The apartment had become a cavernous landing spot between practices, games, and appointments. The warmth that had been vibrant withered away completely in the wake of the Olympics and the weeks that followed. The two of you hadn’t spoken much, not that Quinn hadn’t tried his hardest. Your heart just wasn’t in it, still feeling the ache of everything that went down. 

You’d heard his apologies, seen him crumble faster than any hit he’d taken on the ice. Watched him fight tooth and nail for your forgiveness in the days that followed, cleaning up the mess that your bedroom had absorbed, your bedding freshly washed and his jacket replaced with a new hoodie that smelled like him. You hadn’t lifted a finger since February, and it felt weird.

When he was on the road he still tried to recreate that sense of normalcy, checking in with you when he made it to his hotel rooms in Vegas and Denver. And you weren’t necessarily avoiding him, but giving yourself space to handle your emotions. He was very respectful about it, but still pushed to make sure you’d eaten, drank enough water, and taken your prenatals. He’d seen the darkness you had never let anyone see and just wanted to make sure you were okay. 

That, among other things, was what made all of this so difficult. Yeah, you’d seen him chatting with picture perfect girls at a strip club in Miami less than 24 hours after he drunkenly confessed that he loved you. That sentence alone could’ve hurt your feelings, even if you weren’t seven months pregnant with his child. Even if you weren’t overwhelmed by your hormones that never seemed to calm the fuck down. Even if you were conflicted with how you felt towards him for the third time since October. 

The truth of the situation was that you loved him too. You loved him so fucking much it made you unable to function. You missed the peace that you had before Milan. Missed making fun of his piss poor seasoning skills. Longed for those nights on the couch reading books together in a comfortable silence. Yearned for that soft affection the two of you now seemed to fear. 

So the evening he got home from the afternoon game in Colorado, you weren’t hiding in your room. You were there on the couch, waiting for him when he walked in the door. 

At first, his head was hung as if expecting the same distance you’d been giving for a week. He locked the door behind him, tossed his keys on the counter, and left his goddamned coat on the stool like he always does. Reached into the fridge like second nature, but stopped in his tracks when he spotted it: the meal prep container freshly filled with his gluten free, corn free, organic bullshit. He lifted his head out of the fridge and looked toward your bedroom, finally noticing the door was wide open, before finally looking in your direction on the couch.

“Doll?” 

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past week.” You stated, cutting right to the chase. “I’ve been scouring every corner of my drained little brain trying to come up with any reason to keep giving you the cold shoulder, and it still doesn’t outweigh how much I’ve fucking missed the way we used to be.”

Quinn closed the fridge door, turning his body to give you his full attention. He leaned back against the cabinet next to the fridge with his hands gripping the countertop, giving you space but still being open to the conversation. “You have every reason to still be upset.”

“I do, you’re absolutely right.” You confirmed, standing up off the couch and walking over to the island, angling your torso over the marble top, the only other thing between you being the fruit bowl in the middle. “But do you realize how fucking annoying it is to make my own chamomile tea? Or to hear you talking on the phone and wishing I was the one having a conversation with you instead?”

Quinn let out a small laugh, but his smile didn’t meet his eyes. Not like they did when you usually said something funny. And that irked you so fuckin’ bad. “What else is annoying you?” he questioned, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Shit, where do I start?” You huffed out something similar to a laugh, pushing yourself away from the counter and taking slow steps around the island as you started listing your complaints. “That I can’t focus on my book because you’re not massaging my swollen calves. That I can’t fall asleep without your hoodie on. That this apartment isn’t the same quiet it used to be, if that makes any sense.” You finally stopped right in front of him, examining his face more closely than you had in weeks. His skin was drier than usual, and the dark circles from the week before hadn’t fully faded. And fuck if his arms flexing as they gripped the counter didn’t make you weak at the knees. Hormones are weird as shit.

Quinn’s smile started to become more like the one you adored, his hand coming up to push some of your hair over the shoulder of his stolen hoodie. “Anything else?”

Your teeth pulled your bottom lip in just a hair, looking up at him with that same yearning feeling you felt alone in your apartment in Vancouver. “That I can’t remember what it feels like when you kiss me.” You said softer, more slowly than your other grievances had been. Those were the magic words, making Quinn’s signature crooked grin poke through the sadness in the air as his fingers gently cradled the side of your neck when you took a step closer. “That I’m sick of avoiding the idiot who loves me, the idiot I love.”

Quinn took in a sharp breath, as if your words had hit him straight in the ribs. Despite every single stupid fucking thing the two of you had been through, every time something he did should’ve pushed you away and build your walls even higher, you couldn’t let him go. You loved him, probably for much longer than you even realized.

“You love me?”

“Yeah. I love you. I want to actually date you and have your babies.” You confirmed, using his drunk words he didn’t remember to make him laugh and seal the deal. 

Quinn leaned in slowly, like he was giving you time to rethink your decision, before his lips finally melted against yours. His free hand came to cradle the other side of your face while the one at your neck moved into your hair at the back of your head. Your arms wrapped around his torso, pulling him as close to you as you could manage with your daughter in the way. It wasn’t this large, magnificent gesture everyone always says it is when you figure out who the love of your life is. It was a passionate kiss that deepened in the middle of his kitchen as the setting sun glowed through the large windows across the room.

And it was absolutely perfect. 

—————

It was no secret that hockey was an absolutely brutal sport, even if the league had been ‘washed down’ over the years. Bodies are going into walls and poles and other players all the time. And regardless of the amount of gear velcroed and taped their bodies, it didn’t cover everything. The players of the league could swear up and down that Quinn was elusive and hard to catch, but when he got hit, he got hit.

Did someone tape a ‘hit me’ sign to the back of your bucket dude?

Quinn limped his way to the couch from the shower with nothing more than a groan, his head flopping into your lap without a care in the world. He felt you shift slightly under his aching body, but didn’t care to open his eyes to see what you were doing. “I don’t know what has been going on this week, but I’m about at my fucking limit.”

“What’s going on, Q?” you hummed tenderly as your fingers started combing through his hair, nails softly scratching his scalp.

“I’ve gotten hit more times this week than I’ve given the entire season.” Quinn moaned as your nails hit a particular spot on his head, making his foot twitch on the arm rest on the opposite end of the couch. “That one I gave in the third really whacked me.”

“Hmm.. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“First of all, don’t stop doing that.” Quinn replied, arching his neck to lean into your scratches more. “Your fingers feel like heaven.”

“You know, I feel like that should be the other way around.”

“Doll..”

“Oh, come on, you walked right into that one.” You giggled, moving your nails towards the back of his head. The change in direction sent another jolt down his spine, making him shiver in your lap. Quinn was about to respond when he felt a thump on his forehead, his eyes opening in confusion. 

“What was that for?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be coy Doll, I just felt something thump me on the head.”

“Quinny, my fingers were tangled in your hair, how could I thump it?”

“Well if it wasn’t you then..” Quinn felt the thump again, his voice trailing with realization. “Did our daughter just kick me in the head?”

Your head craned back as you cackled, losing yourself in a fit of laughter. “She’s been quiet all day, I was wondering when she was finally going to wake up.”

Quinn flipped over onto his stomach, positioning himself between your thighs over the faithful couch blanket. He brought one of his hands to the area she kicked him from, pushing your belly gently to try and get her to do it again. “Cmon Nugget, I know you’re in there.” he hummed, rubbing his thumb along the fabric of your sweater.

“You call her Nugget?”

“Yes, because my credit card statements were 25% chicken nuggets for three months straight. Now hush, I’m trying to concentrate.” Quinn’s focus returned to your belly, adding a soft pressure without trying to make your bladder suffer the consequences. “Nugget.. If you kick my hand right now, I’ll pamper your momma when I get back from the roadie at the end of the month.”

“Cmon nugget!” you chimed enthusiastically, making him chuckle as he felt around your midsection. After contemplating the offer, she finally kicked his hand again, making his head shoot up to look in your eyes. The two of you mirrored beaming smiles, and your arms pushed up into the air in victory. “Yes! I’ve been needing a haircut!”

She thinks a haircut is pampering??

“Oh my god, you are in for a whirlwind.” Quinn sighed, sitting up gingerly to avoid irritating his sore side. “A haircut is not pampering.”

“Anything that involves altering your appearance is pampering.” You responded, your hands coming to rest on the top of your stomach. 

“How do I put this lightly?” Quinn started, rubbing his palms down his cheeks before flattening them on your upper thighs. “When I say ‘pamper’, what I really mean is spoil.”

“You already spoil me.”

“Not really, no.” Quinn quipped quickly, bobbing his head sassily for more emphasis. “I’m talking about getting your nails done, taking you to the bookstore and letting you pile books in my arms for hours, something along those lines.”

“I don’t need all that.”

“Humor me, Doll. If you and I had an entire day doing whatever you wanted, what would it be?”

You tilted your head in thought before finally looking back at him again. “The bookstore idea sounds fun.”

“Okay, what else sounds fun?”

“Maybe a mani/pedi would help with the swelling..” You said bashfully, wrapping your fingers around the wrist that had been giving you trouble with the storm that had been rolling in the last few days. “I don’t know Quinn, you know my love language is acts of service.”

“Then we’ll include that in there, too. Anything more than ‘just a haircut.’”

Quinn watched you process that he wanted to treat you to something fun, especially after the unnecessary stress you’d been under the last couple of months. He was completely aware that you’d rarely spoil yourself when you were on your own, going so far as to thrift your romance novels and focus on drugstore makeup and nail polish instead of higher quality products. This is why it was so important to him to show you that it was okay to spend a little money on yourself for more than just the essentials. 

“But I can still get the haircut right?”

Quinn laughed as he leaned forward, resting his chin at the top of the curve of your belly, looking up at you with unfiltered adoration. “Yes, you can also get the haircut, Doll.” He wrapped his arms under the small of your back, gently supporting it. “How long have you been rotting on this couch?”

“Couple of hours. How else am I supposed to watch the game?” Your own hands came up to his hair, tucking those pesky strays behind his ear while he kept his focus completely on you. 

“Okay well, moving around is much healthier for you, and you really shouldn’t sit in the same place for too long anyways.” Quinn stated, begrudgingly moving off your body and the couch before hauling you up with him.

“I can’t help it, my hips have been killing me for weeks.” Your knuckles moved the back of your hip bone, pushing into the spot that seemed to be hurting you the most.

“Cmon,” Quinn brought his hand back to your lower back, gently guiding you towards his room. Your eyes were filled with a wavering anxiety, making him stop just short of his bedroom door. “The shower head in my bathroom has some settings that’ll help those aches you're dealing with. I promise you’ll feel better.”

“I can shower in my own bathroom.”

“Doll, trust me.” His voice was soft but confident. He didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, especially now that you were approaching the third trimester and already feeling the pains of growing his little girl. “I’ll gather everything you need, just go.”

“Quinn..”

“Doll, I’m not trying to be weird, I just want to help you.” Quinn turned you back towards his door, pushing just a little bit harder. “Go, I’ll bring you your things.”

Quinn watched you hesitantly disappear into his room before heading towards yours. As soon as he walked in he realized he had no idea where any of your clothes were kept, and it felt really weird digging through your dresser, not wanting to find anything too personal.

Right, because finding your pregnant girlfriend’s vibrator would be horrifying, and you’re actually 12.

Quinn eventually found something that resembled pajamas and moved onto your bathroom, which was much easier to find the things you would need. As he walked past the couch on his way to his half of the apartment, he noticed you’d left your phone on the couch and decided to grab that too, but he froze in place when he picked it up and saw your lockscreen.

Quinn didn’t know what he was expecting to see. Maybe the sonogram of Nugget. Possibly of the sun setting from your bedroom window. But he definitely wasn’t prepared to see a picture of him, just a little bit ago, looking peaceful in your lap with your fingers in his hair. It simply took his breath away and left a smile on his face, adding it to the hoard in his arms and finally making his way to you.

-------

Taglist: @macka @bravo-delta-eccho @cosmosnkaz @bwormie @destinyg237 @1800-love-me @ellies-world61 @wkhannah @kaitfae @sveax27 @jayda12 @applejackrootbeerhollis @mosseetrees @elizamoe133 @dasiysthings @death-ofpeace-ofmind @misszkr @onlyolys @reader142 @asteria33 @lenaisageek @greygirl44 @thejordiverse @lunadi1unau @flaminghotcheetosinhaler @sunshineblondiegirl @scarcelyperfectsage @tweetyelle @icedupbaby @venusbabysblog @dear-jacie @dancerbailey3 @w1theredr0se @0urlady0fs0rr0ws421

-------