#hugh golf

[teavee-kid]

When they say they’re a catcf fan but they don’t know about Hugh Golf

[capquinn]

Quinn attempting to teach you how to golf but it’s not going well so you’re just sitting in a short skirt looking cute sipping on a drink in the cart watching him look insanely hot. He has you taken a couple putts with his help, he’s completely pressed up against your back and getting handsy with it

holy shit. i love where your head is at bc i never knew how bad i needed this until now 🥵🥵🥵

It starts with good intentions.

Quinn’s got the whole thing mapped out in his head—how he’s gonna teach you the basics, help you perfect your swing, maybe even turn you into a decent golfer. He’s patient, methodical, and he likes being good at things, so obviously, he’s determined to make this lesson stick.

Except… you’re not exactly cooperating.

After one half-hearted swing, you’d dramatically sighed, declared golf “too hard,” abandoned your club with zero remorse, and retired to in the golf cart with your drink in hand. Now, you’re perched there, legs crossed, looking entirely too good in that tiny little skirt you put on just for him, sipping like a pampered country club wife.

Meanwhile, Quinn is actually trying.

His arms flex, muscles shifting under the soft fabric of his polo as he adjusts his grip, shoulders squared, broad and strong. The sun catches on the sharp line of his jaw, turning his skin golden, highlighting the focused furrow in his brow, the slight press of his lips as he lines up his shot. His hands tighten around the club, forearms taut with control, and god, he looks good. Confident. Composed. The perfect picture of an athlete locked in.

You, however, are not helping.

“You look hot when you’re serious,” you hum, swirling your straw around in your cup, letting your eyes trail over him — down his arms, across his chest, back up to the sharp cut of his jaw.

Quinn exhales through his nose, barely biting back a smirk as he rolls his shoulders, resets his stance. He lines up the shot, smooth and practiced, and with one effortless swing, the ball rolls clean across the green, dropping into the hole without a sound.

He doesn’t even look at it. Just turns towards you, club resting over his shoulders, an easy, amused tilt to his mouth.

“You actually gonna play,” he asks, eyes flicking to your drink, then back to you, “or just sit there looking pretty?”

You grin, setting your cup aside, stretching your legs out a little before reaching for his outstretched hand. Quinn shakes his head, but he’s smiling as he tugs you up, steadying you with a warm palm on your hip.

“Both,” you reply easily, smoothing down the hem of your skirt, already preening under the way his eyes flick down, just for a second, before he schools his expression.

But you catch it. The way his gaze dips, tracing the length of your bare legs, the way the fabric of your skirt shifts under your touch. The slight part of his lips, like he wants to say something, but just exhales instead, steadying himself.

He tilts his head toward the green. “C’mon then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

He guides you forward, leading you onto the green, placing a putter in your hands. At first, he gives you space, arms crossed as he watches you position yourself, letting you find your footing, letting you line up the shot on your own. But the second you raise the club with a grip that’s completely wrong, a stance that is all off, he sighs, stepping in close behind you.

His hands slide over yours, adjusting your grip, his voice low and warm against your ear. “Like this, sweetheart.”

His front presses flush against your back, broad and steady, the heat of his body bleeding through your clothes, his breath warm against your cheek. His hands linger, fingers brushing against yours, slow and deliberate as he guides them into place. He’s focused, serious, all firm touches and quiet murmurs — but you?

Maybe you should focus on the golf lesson. Maybe you should actually listen.

But instead, you shift, just slightly, easing back into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you.

You hum, tilting your head slightly. “You sure?”

Quinn huffs out a quiet laugh, but you don’t miss the way his grip tightens, the way his fingers flex against yours. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You test the waters, wiggling back just a little, the curve of your ass pressing into the front of his shorts.

He stills, and his breath hitches, subtle but there, and you bite back a smile, feeling the tension coil in the space between you. His fingers tighten over yours, like he’s trying to focus, like he’s willing himself not to react.

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, voice low and warm against your ear.

You just grin, all innocent. “Who, me?”

Quinn exhales slowly, ignoring the way his body has already betrayed him, ignoring the heat curling low in his stomach. His hands tighten over yours, guiding you through the swing, voice firm and just a little strained.

“Just hit the ball, baby.”

So you do.

And somehow — miraculously — it rolls straight into the hole.

You let out a triumphant little hum, spinning on your heels, excitement buzzing through you as you turn to Quinn.

“Did you see that?”

His mouth quirks, one hand resting lazily on the putter. “Yeah, I saw.”

Grinning, you step in close, looping your arms around his neck, pressing up on your toes to kiss him in celebration. It’s supposed to be quick — a little victory peck at most — but the second your lips touch his, Quinn takes his shot.

His hands drop to your waist, slowly smoothing down the curve of your hips before slipping under the hem of your skirt. His fingers find bare skin, warm and firm as he palms your ass, giving it a slow, appreciative squeeze.

You gasp, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, eyes wide, heat pricking at your cheeks.

“Quinn,” you hiss, reaching back to tug your skirt down, but not before he gives you another squeeze, fingers flexing just because he can.

He just grins, completely unrepentant, twirling the putter in his hand like this is just a casual afternoon on the course as he takes a step back.

“Nice shot, baby,” he says, smirking, amused. “Told you I was a good teacher.”

You scoff, turning to retrieve the ball, shaking your head as you bend over — just a little too slow, arching just enough, letting your skirt ride up the barest inch in the breeze.

“I think I’m a natural,” you say, glancing back at him over your shoulder, smile all sweet and innocent.

Quinn exhales through his nose, eyes dark as they trace the length of your legs before meeting yours again.

“And you’re a tease.”

You just grin, tossing the ball up in your palm before turning back toward him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You smirk, shaking your head as you stroll past him, brushing your fingers along his forearm in a barely-there touch, enjoying the way his gaze is locked on you.

He hums, unconvinced, tipping his chin toward the next hole.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice all low and knowing, stepping in beside you. “Let’s see if you can do it again.”

[puckinghischier]

can we just talk about following quinn around while he’s golfing for a min? all of this content of him playing golf is getting to me soooo bad

like, he’d always ask you to tag along with him and drive the cart for him, just wanting to spend time with you. it’s definitely not because he loves to see you wear your little golf skirt and canucks visor.

you would say no most of the time, not wanting to go ride around in the hot sun all day when you could stay in your air conditioned apartment and watch reality shows. when the weather turns, though, you’ll grace him with your presence every once in awhile.

you especially like to go when he’s playing with his teammates. you loved being his cheerleader and subtly sabotaging his teammates. like the time they asked you to hold the flag while they putted, and you “accidentally” hit quinn’s ball in the hole with the pole.

or the time brock tagged along and you blew the horn on the golf cart just as he was putting for a birdie, causing his ball to sail right past the hole, rolling right off of the green entirely. when he looked over at you, face red and angry, you claimed innocence. “what? i was thirsty and needed to get the cart girl’s attention. how was i supposed to know that was an important putt?”

you always had the most fun when all three hughes brothers were golfing together. you would drive quinn around in a cart while jack and luke had their own. and, occasionally, ellen and jim would join too. ellen and yourself would sit and chit chat while the boys and jim were on the green, teasing each other and not playing by official golf rules in the slightest.

ellen would always pack a cooler with snacks and a light lunch for everyone to have while on the course. the whole group would find a shady spot right off of the course and eat, giving the guys an opportunity to make wagers and bets on who would win and what the others would have to endure if they lost.

usually the punishments were lighthearted and harmless, but every once in awhile one arises that causes some trouble. like the time jack had to jump into one of the small ponds on a course when you were all on vacation together in hawaii, resulting in a lifetime ban for every single one of you when he got caught.

you enjoyed when it was just you and quinn, too. the days that a cool breeze was constantly flowing and you would bring along a book. quinn would let you choose the music that flows through the clip on speaker attached to the cart, knowing you always have a new playlist you’re wanting to show him. he’d buy you a cocktail to sip on throughout the day, knowing how much you loved a fruity drink.

quinn’s favorite part of you tagging along was knowing you were there because he asked you to be. even though you hated golf and claimed it was the most boring sport ever created, you went simply because he wanted you to be there and you knew it was something he enjoyed. he loved being able to look over and hear your little cheers for him every time he putts the ball into the hole. or the way you always say “sounded like a hole in one to me” after the initial stroke at every new hole.

he loved that every time the cart girl drove by, you always made sure he had a fresh beer if he wanted one. he also loved how you’d trade out the beer for water around hole 12, making sure he’s not getting too crazy since he’s the driver in the relationship (other than at the course, of course).

quinn would offer to teach you to play nearly every time you went with him, but after trying to hit a ball or two you always gave up, telling him it’s much more fun to watch him play than having to focus on anything other than how good his ass looks in his pants when he’s putting, considering that’s the real reason you agree to go with him. but what quinn doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

[snowangel415]

New Quinn pics courtesy of Canucks insta and X and canucks insider on X posted 240909

(Sorry for not linking but have been told my account names show when I link 👀 )

[ice-ball-again]

the best part of jack's NHL23 gaming interview is when the interviewer kind of jokingly asks if quinn was exaggerating how good he is at golf and jack is immediately like 😐🙄❌NO❌ quinn is VERY 💯💯💯💯 GOOD ✅✅✅✅ at GOLF ⛳️🏌️✅ he's just not better than me 🙂‍↔️

zero tolerance for quinn slander

[jhugh86]

i can't believe they made quinn think he did that to a regular golf ball

[thekenobee]

ok I'll just send you more ideas for cabin pressure x poirot crossovers as I relisten to eps

Hastings: Poirot's put me in charge of the faxes.

Miss Lemon: Are you sure, Mr Poirot? Because some people do still have fax machines.

Poirot: Yes, yes some people do. We don't though. (not sure yet what scene this would go well with)

Never enough of Cabin Pressure x POiROT!!

[famouxben]

Hugh Jackman, Swordfish 2001

[annieqattheperipheral]

behold all your fave players' fave interview:

holy goobers i was not expecting that winner by that score but hells yea boyo!

(more w yandle)

spoilers:

[toffoliravioli]

WEE WOO DEVILS SPOTTING IN THE WILD WEE WOOOOOOO

[venus-vault]

◇ 😮‍💨 wow... so I'm really out here giggling kicking my feet over a man who plays golf??? And why did I google what his handicap is??? It's 7 btw🏌‍♂️⛳️ ◇

[teavee-kid]

Hugh Golf canon

[lotrmusical]

today's e f benson is the gardener and i'm turning over a new leaf and putting these under a read more for everyone's sake

unsettlement: 7. me the whole way through: 'this one is basic, fred, you're not getting me that easily, i refuse to be scared' -- but of course i was. the ghost in this one wants something and giving it a voice to express those wants through the pencil made me say 'ugh' several times

homoeroticism: 2. nothing much. nominal points for the connecting room door and the keeping secrets from margaret. (which is infuriating of them, incidentally.)

good story: 6. as mentioned above, a bit basic, but effective for all that and has some fun character dynamics going on between the main trio.

[snowangel415]

More new Quinn pics courtesy Canucks Insta and X

[untilthenexttee]

Great Scot! - 2024 RBC Canadian Open

As the 2024 RBC Canadian Open has reached it’s conclusion we now congratulate the latest winner of our National Championship. Already, we look forward to the 2025 edition which is to be played at TPC Toronto – Osprey Valley in Caledon, Ontario. TPC Toronto is the new home for Golf Canada after spending decades just down the street from Jack Nicklaus’ design, Glen Abbey. Next year’s edition will…

[toonice113]

Emergency contact ⋆ ★ L.Hughes

Pairings: Luke Hughes x fem!reader

Summary: you do the my emergency contact trend on tiktok and feed the snoopy hughes agenda

Warnings: none

Word count: 332

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆  just a quick fun little blurb that’s maybe a little cringy. omg i finished writing this and then luke scored woo

‘you love me right?’ You sent to your boyfriend 

‘yes’ He replies almost immediately and then adds another one 

‘but i’m on the other side of the country right now so whatever you did i can’t really help you much’ 

You laugh and reply ‘don’t worry don’t need to be bailed out of jail tonight, but maybe don’t check tiktok’ 

Of course that makes him check your tiktok page, groaning when he realizes what your question was about but inevitably laughing at the video of him being compared to snoopy with the words ‘my emergency contact ❤️’ on the screen, he then loses himself in the comments for a good 15 minutes 

user 

i will never stop pushing the snoopy hughes agenda

user

the fact that she looked for the clips herself instead of using one of the edits 

user

what type of snoopy hughes are you today? me i think im feeling like fourth one 

user

i dont know, i would fully trust your emergency contact

    user 

    i think you would become his emergency contact real quick with all those falls 

user 

imagine you call for an emergency and he just flops on his way to you 

   user

   becomes the emergency himself

‘i take it you checked tiktok?’ you send after not hearing back for a bit 

‘you think you’re so funny huh’ you can almost see his eyes rolling through his response 

‘yes and so do you because you love me’ you send back 

‘you’re lucky i don’t have a public tiktok cause i could make a 10 minute compilation just of last summer at the lake house’ he follows with a video of you stepping on the boat and immediately slipping landing on your ass and then another one of you trying to hit a golf ball but hitting air instead 

‘jokes on you the fact that you have that many videos of me just tells me you love me a lot’ you send back 

‘yeah yeah whatever’