#points. quinn ice

[zorphie]

hands him over to.you❤️

[vacz]

"Who are you looking at?" Bad End Friends (Comic)

I've spent all day trying to finish this comic! AHHHHH

So I present you an idea of a ship... Hunter x Ice Finn

"Why?" Well, if we think in the fact that in Adventure time's multiverse all the versions of Finn always ends up having a romantic relationship with a version of Huntress Wizard, and we take Bad End Friends as a canon alternative timeline where Finn didn't destroy Ice Finn's crown and so he later joined Bipper, how would Farmworld!Finn ends up with his version of Huntress Wizard as Ice Finn? Well the answer is simple: He doesn't end up with directly another version of her but someone who is similar to her... And guess who is more similar to Huntress Wizard?

That's right! Hun- Beast Wirt. I personally think Beast Wirt has actually more similarities with her since they both are like spirits of the forest who almost have the same personality, HOWEVER, I think Hunter and Ice Finn would have more CHEMISTRY and let me explain why:

They both are insane, they MATCH THEIR FREAK.

Ice Finn wouldn't be weird out for Hunter's appearance at all, like he did with the Lich, so Ice Finn would judge him according to his action and god- he gets it, At first he would hate him because Hunter is literally chopping people! But after getting an explanation of why he does this, Ice Finn would sympathize with the feeling of "wanting to protect your family" and want to help Hunter with his brother. Ice Finn proposed to Wirt the chance to save lives without having to change that much, and Hunter couldn't resist it, he could finally do something good for humanity! Maybe he could even redeem himself!

IT'S A KING AND KNIGHT DYNAMIC WITH SOME TONES OF PANTHERS IN CRIME

Hunter would watch around for people, and if he finds them then he should bring them to Ice Finn so he could freeze them. However, most of the time he spent it around Ice Finn himself, sometimes helping him with spells or other stuff like cooking, and other times just hanging around together. Their relationship is more equal than it seems, Hunter is just as enthusiastic as Ice Finn in saving lifes the way they do, Ice Finn constant joy and quick reactions are like fresh air for Hunter, who misses some real emotion in life, while Ice Finn has someone who actually cares about his safety and it's not manipulating him for his own selfish desires. Hunter loves Ice Finn's madness because it is a constant of movement, life and joy! While Finn isn't weird out at all by Hunter's more creepier madness, and actually finds him pretty cool and charming. They both don't judge each other and they are openly crazy together

Hunter is normally submissive, and has a craving for love to the point that he could fall really HARD for someone who shows him affection, of course Hunter would be protective and very jealous if someone tries something with Ice Finn, he thinks Finn as one of his more precious properties so Hunter would not let go this guy. Ice Finn is not innocent either, he was the one who kidnapped Hunter in the first place, Ice Finn makes him sleep on a cage even, you can say he also sees Hunter as a pet, one he loves so much but a thing at least...

However, even if they have these things that for normal people would be very toxic, for them is living a romance, a strange and delusional romance, where both souls lost deep in madness find each other to be their own guide though the black ocean of insanity

So tell me your opinion, I hope you guys like it! ^^

[victorianpuckbunny]

Jack slowly inheriting Quinn's ability to see the horrors/ ghosts.

[haunted hughes]

[babisawyer]

paramount+ has given up on me suddenly so I've only been able to watch a tiny bit of scream 6 so far.

[brainddeadd]

Quinn and Luke watching Jack fall in love

The First Game You Attend

The arena is buzzing with excitement, but Jack’s focus has narrowed down to a single point: the section where you’re sitting, bundled up in his team’s colors, eyes bright as you look down at the ice. Jack sneaks glances every chance he gets, his usually cocky demeanor giving way to a barely-hidden softness.

Quinn, catching his little brother’s gaze flicker to the stands, nudges Luke. “He’s practically looking for her approval every shift,” Quinn murmurs with a smirk. “Bet he’d trip over his own skates just to impress her.”

When Jack scores, his grin spreads wide, and the moment he gets off the ice, he looks up, finding you in the crowd. Luke snickers. “Did you see that? He’s totally gone.”

Back in the locker room after the game, Jack’s still riding high, but Quinn and Luke are ready to bring him back to earth.

“So, Jack, didn’t know you were out there just playing for her,” Quinn teases, feigning a concerned look.

Jack’s cheeks redden instantly, but he tries to shrug it off. “Nah, it’s just another game.”

“Oh, sure. Just another game. That’s why you looked like a love-struck puppy every time you looked up in the stands,” Luke snickers.

Jack rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the smile from his face. And Quinn and Luke, for all their teasing, can’t help but be a little thrilled to see him so happy.

The Double Date Disaster

The evening’s supposed to be relaxed—a casual double date with Jack, you, Luke, and his own date. But when Luke’s date cancels last minute, he shrugs and decides to tag along anyway, figuring he’ll grab a drink and keep an eye on things. But as soon as he realizes how smitten Jack is, he pulls out his phone and quickly texts Quinn.

Within twenty minutes, Quinn’s at the bar too, claiming he “just happened” to be in the neighborhood. Jack glares as his two brothers settle in at the table, turning what was supposed to be a romantic night into a full-blown family gathering.

“So, did Jack ever tell you about the time he tried to jump off the roof pretending to be Batman?” Luke starts, leaning forward with a mischievous grin.

Jack groans, turning pink. “Luke, don’t.”

“Oh, come on,” Quinn cuts in with a grin. “You should know what you’re getting into.”

You laugh, completely charmed by the stories, and Jack, despite being mortified, can’t help but melt a little at the sight of you genuinely enjoying yourself. He lets out a resigned sigh, finally surrendering to the chaos as you smile at him, his heart skipping a beat.

The Teammate Gossip

Practice is winding down, and the team is gathered around the benches, catching their breath when Quinn overhears a few of the guys teasing Jack.

“I swear, man, he’s always texting,” one of them laughs, glancing over at Jack, who’s grinning down at his phone. “Guess he’s got a mystery girl.”

Quinn can’t resist, striding over with a smirk. “Oh, she’s real alright. Trust me, he’s got it bad. I’d bet good money he’d trip over his own skates next time she’s around.”

Jack’s head jerks up, a mix of embarrassment and irritation flashing across his face. “Come on, man,” he mumbles, trying to defend himself. “I’m just—texting.”

Luke chimes in with a smirk, walking up with his stick over his shoulder. “Guess you’re in love if you’re making us look like the stable ones, huh?”

Jack just groans, but the flush in his cheeks doesn’t go away, and the guys all laugh, patting him on the back as he looks away, still smiling.

The Midnight Confession

It’s a rare night where all three brothers are home, sprawled out on the couch with pizza boxes and empty soda cans littering the table. They’re laughing, sharing stories, but Jack’s mind keeps drifting elsewhere, and his phone screen keeps lighting up with your messages.

Quinn notices first, nudging Luke with a knowing grin. “You gonna tell us, Jack? Or are we supposed to guess who’s got you smiling like that?”

Jack sighs, fighting a smile. “I don’t know, guys. She’s just…different.”

Luke leans in, intrigued. “Different how?”

Jack shrugs, searching for words. “She makes me feel like I don’t have to be anything but me, you know? Like I can just…show up, flaws and all, and it’s enough.”

For a moment, his brothers are silent, sensing the depth in Jack’s words.

Quinn clears his throat, breaking the quiet. “Well, I’ll say this—don’t screw it up. ‘Cause I think she’s got you in a way no one else has.”

Jack chuckles, looking down, but there’s a look in his eyes that tells Quinn and Luke this is more than just a passing romance. As they drift into easier conversation, both brothers can’t help but feel happy to see Jack falling, finally finding someone who makes him feel at home.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

win ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

A/N: okay.. I couldn’t come up with a title for this. Sue me.

Warnings: dad!quinn, rose is your daughters name (: all fluffy . short lil Drabble

summary: during one of your husbands hockey games, you and your daughter decided to surprise him!

MASTERLIST

As you gently placed the noise-canceling headphones over Rose's delicate ears, a soft babble escaped her lips. You gave her a boop on the nose before opening the door, her eyes fleeting around the unfamiliar place.

She was dressed in a little “daddy’s number one fan” onsie with denim shorts on and cute little bows in her hair.

A warm smile spread across your face as you stepped into the arena, the atmosphere wrapping around you like a blanket.

It’s been months since you’ve gone to a game, mostly because of Rose. You hadn’t even known you missed it so much until now. With your husbands jersey over your shoulders, you made your way into your front row seats, holding your daughter close to your chest and bouncing her on your lap.

It was then that you heard music play, and the time for warm ups began.

The opposing team began to skate out onto the other side of the ice, before the canucks did the same thing, all of them scattering around the ice.

Then, you saw your husbands number amongst them, a large grin making its way onto your face. You heard his name being announced, being introduced on the Jumbotron.

You glanced down at your daughter, pointing to the large screen on the ceiling. “Who’s that? Who’s that? Is that daddy?” You asked her, her eyes looking up at it curiously before letting out a little gummy smile when she saw her dad’s face show up.

She let out a babble, almost sounding like “dada.” You smiled down at her, nodding at her while laughing. “Yeah! Yeah, it is!” You cooed at her, turning to look back at the ice.

You noticed one of his good friends and teammate, Elias Petterson, point his stick in your direction, Quinn now looking at you, eyes widening.

In an instant, he was in front of you, a smile visible on his face as he stood there behind the dasherboard.

You stood up, placing your daughter on your hip as you showed her Quinn. He gave her a wave, smiling at the both of you.

Her babbles became more excited, reaching her little hands out, placing them on the plastic. He did the same with his glove, saying an estatic “hi!” to her, despite the crowd drowning out the noise.

You smiled at the interaction, watching him glance behind him, knowing he’d have to leave to go actually warm up soon.

He looked back at you, taking his hand away from the glass, sending you a smile and waving goodbye to her as he skated backwards, watching her raise her tiny fingers back at him in an attempt to wave.

He smiled at it, turning around but not before sending one last glance to the both of you, new goal in his mind.

Win, for the both of you.

[lovesickhughes]

locker room | quinn hughes

a/n: hahah okay wow. this one definitely is a different type of fic from my usuals. that being said, please attend to the warnings listed below, and if any of the listed warnings make you uncomfortable in any way, please do not interact. i'm quite shocked at myself with this one. i wrote it all in one sitting, and idk what came over me, BUT i was determined with this one! that being said, i hope you enjoy a little slutty piece of our beloved quinn 🙂‍↕️❤️‍🔥😜

summary: you want nothing more than to comfort quinn during his rough season, so you take a different approach

warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT– mdni [18+]. some angst, a glimpse of sad!quinn :( ROUGH SEX, dom!quinn, oral (m!receiving), p in v, choking, exhibitionism and hints of coercion (but very light), praise kink, unprotected sex (please remember to always practice safe sex!). if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count: 3.8k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Although you weren’t ever directly involved in Quinn’s games, it pained you to watch the effort he puts into each and every period he plays, injuries upon injuries stacking up, and the weight of a team trying to navigate a win increasing. The observations leaving you wanting nothing more than to take away his pain and suffering. 

His tired eyes would meet yours when he would drag himself into your shared apartment, the glow of downtown Vancouver casting shadows in the living room. You would have the replays of the game playing quietly in the background as you averted your gaze to the brunette whose shoulders would slump over his frame. It had become a routine; he would enter your apartment, fall into your arms as you came to his aid, attempting to distract him from the fact he was on the verge of his breaking point. 

“Quinn, we’ve talked about this– you can’t keep expecting good things to happen if you’re not taking care of yourself. I mean, look at you–” You would argue, a sorrowful gaze meeting his tired, dark eyes that would quickly dart to focus on something else when you brought up a conversation that was known all too well. 

“Y/n, I can handle it. It’s all a part of the game and being captain.” He would push back, growing cold and tight-lipped. You desperately tried to avoid evoking Quinn further in distress, your main effort being to support him when he needed, but considering it was a sensitive topic, you felt as though you were walking on thin, cracking ice, not knowing when Quinn would reach his limits and have the pressure all come crumbling back down upon him. 

It was another night, another tough loss, that you unfortunately witnessed in person, and the atmosphere of the arena carried a mournful feeling as fans exited their seats. You were in a suite among a few other wives and girlfriends, consoling one another after the rough game, before walking across the concourse and down to the floor that held the quiet, tension-filled locker room. 

You waited along the wall with a few other family members of the players, quietly conversing with one another, but the unspoken weight of the loss hung over everyone’s heads. As if you were all avoiding the real topic at hand– how difficult it was to see the players lose.

The coaching staff walked quickly out of the locker room and down the hall to their offices with determination and disappointment coursing through their steps, and as time slowly passed by, the sorrow-looking hockey players eventually made their way out of the locker room to reconnect with their family members. 

You watched as slowly, one by one, as the waiting area got smaller and more quiet as the night continued on. By the time you had started growing concerned that Quinn had not made it out, you had checked your phone to see the time read 11:36PM, an unusual time to still be lingering around the arena. 

You were conflicted with what to do– you knew Quinn was still in the locker room, but the silence was deafening and caused you to grow uneasy, standing all by yourself in a dimly lit part of the arena. 

You knew it would be frowned upon, but considering you were not alone and Quinn was still getting ready to depart, you felt your feet drag you closer to the doors that would lead you through to the room you had only ever heard stories about, and pictures and videos of.

You peered around the corner of the arch, dividing the hallway to the locker room, seeing each empty cubby with each player's name written across the boarder with their hockey equipment neatly hung.

Slowly, you walked further, more of the room becoming exposed before you were welcomed with the sight of your boyfriend, Quinn, sitting in his designated spot, his lower half of hockey gear still tightly hugging his body, but nothing else– exposing his torso and more. 

You couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the sight, his head hung low, wet curls falling forward, a few sticking to his head as his shoulders raised up and down in a slow manner. The sound of your quiet steps must have been enough to catch his attention from his focused gaze below him. 

Quinn did a double take, seeing you standing opposite from him, in a room you would never be allowed in, in any other circumstance, which caused his brows to furrow in confusion. 

“What are you doing here? Y/n– you shouldn’t be in here.” He said through a low grumble, a rush of urgency washing over his face and standing up immediately to walk over to you. His body was mere inches away from yours, his eyes searching your own as you were left speechless, because for a matter of fact, you had no idea what you were doing in the locker room. 

But being left waiting for almost two hours past the end of a game, and growing worried, you felt like there was no other option, other than to take a different approach to console your boyfriend. 

You inhaled sharply at the close proximity, feeling Quinn’s breath on your face, watching his muscles contort in ways that you scolded yourself for finding attractive and causing an ache to pulse through your core. The tension that filled the space between you two, as you both looked into each other’s eyes, made it almost suffocating, your breathing growing irregular.

You blink harshly to refocus yourself, reaching your arm to place delicately against Quinn’s exposed bicep. 

“I know, I shouldn’t be here– I know,” You started, looking at Quinn with a more serious demeanour, “but I was getting worried, and you know I hate seeing you like this.” You coo, running your hand up and down the warm skin of his arm. 

“Y/n, you don’t need to worry, we’ve been over this how many times– I can handle it.” He said through a groan, tilting his head back. And you couldn’t help but watch his features as he leaned his head back, his defined collarbone and shoulder muscles, bulging from their recent overexertion from the game.

You scolded yourself again at the fact the only thought that filled your mind was how attractive Quinn looked, the way he was only covered by his lower half of hockey gear, his muscles shifting as he breathed and stood before you. You knew it was wrong, but the only thought that consumed you, was that you wanted nothing more than to please him, and show him other ways you were there for him. 

That was when it felt like a lightbulb lit up in your mind. You knew it wasn’t right, but just that made you crave more. 

“What are the odds other people are still here?” You questioned, glancing your eyes to the side and out the archway to the hallway. Quinn’s expression grew only more confused. 

“Uh, I mean it’s getting pretty late, so probably not a lot.” He said slowly, squinting his eyes at you for the odd question. “Why, Y/n.” 

You shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “oh, no reason– just wondering.”

“Y/n, what are you trying to get at?” Quinn pressed further, reaching a hand to your jaw to pull your focus back on him.

“Well, y’know– I just had a thought.” You said, failing to hold Quinn’s piercing eye contact, but when you do briefly, his gaze lingered more lustfully. 

He stepped closer, if it was even possible, causing you to sharply inhale. “Y/n, tell me why you think it’s okay for you to waltz your way into my locker room, when you know it’s probably prohibited.” 

“Because!” You exasperated, “Because, Quinn. I hate seeing you like this, and I want nothing more than to stop you from feeling like this. Clearly my previous antics haven't worked.” You scoffed quietly. You watched for Quinn’s response intricately, watching his face contort as he processed your confession. 

His tongue toyed this inside of his cheek, a grin peaking out, “is that so?” 

You nodded your head, holding his gaze with your own, looking at him with doe eyes, which caused a soft groan to fall from his lips. 

“I have another idea to make you feel better though.” You continued, Quinn’s head perking in interest. “Come, sit.” You ushered him to sit back in his designated spot in the locker room. You sat close to him, feeling the heat of his body emit onto you. You reached for his hand with one of your own, your other finding his bicep and softly gripping the flesh. 

The two of you hold an intense gaze, anticipating each one of you to make a move first, the tension between you both turning from angstful to more sensual. Without a second doubt, Quinn reached his hand to your jaw, pulling your face to his and connecting your lips. You both inhale at the contact, before melting into the feeling and release of pressure. 

You bring your own hand to his face, feeling the scruff of his facial hair, roughly brushing against your skin. You moan softly against his lips, allowing for his tongue to slip into your mouth, enveloping you into a feeling of pure bliss as your mouths molded together. 

You then pull away, breathless and inspect his face, searching his features and seeing his lips a darker shade, swollen and wet. 

“Is there somewhere more private in here?” You asked softly, quickly pressing another slow, wet kiss to his lips. 

Quinn looked around the room, searching for an answer, before his gaze stopped on the door that held a bathroom behind the frame. 

“The bathroom will probably be our best bet, if we really do this.” He said, turning back to you. 

Your tongue wet your own lips in anticipation, an excitement rushing through your body. 

“Then let’s be quick.” You smirked, standing up before Quinn, walking towards the closed door of the bathroom, hearing Quinn quickly shed his bulky hockey gear, leaving him in his compression pants and nothing more.

As you stepped into the tiled room, you shrugged off your jacket, hung it up and searched the room for any area that could make your plan easier. The door quietly clicked shut, bringing your attention to Quinn, who quickly approached you, softly pushing you against the wall, placing an arm near your head and the other gripping your waist as he held you in his embrace. 

His lips found yours again, eager and determined to create more desperation between you both. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, and then down your neck, his breaths causing electricity to pulse through your veins, and your back to arch and a moan to fall from your lips when he sucked softly on your sweet spot. 

Your arms found his shoulders, stopping his advances and he looked up to meet your eyes, searching yours for answers. 

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I want to make this about you, baby.” You said softly, bringing your hand to the nape of his neck and delicately tugging on his curls, causing his eyes to shut softly. 

“Wanna show me then, hm?” He asked, his eyelids hung low. You bit your lower lip in excitement, holding his gaze as you swapped places with him, before falling to your knees below him, never losing his sight. Your hands steady yourself against his strong thighs, sliding up to caress his exposed torso, feeling the muscles respond to your touch as you reached around to explore. 

Your fingers then hooked under the hem of his compression pants, tugging the fabric down to his knees, enough to expose his throbbing cock, the tip swollen and pink, desperately waiting to feel some sort of release.

You gripped the base of his cock with your hand, carefully, as your mouth practically salivated at the sight of Quinn watching your every move, never breaking eye contact. And when you reach your mouth to place a kiss to the side of his aching member, the sight of Quinn’s eyes fluttering shut, creates a warmth between your own legs. Your mouth began to go to work, placing kisses along his shaft and pumping his cock once before delving into your masterwork, as Quinn would define it. 

You kitten lick his tip before sliding his cock between your lips, his thick member filling your mouth, even just the feeling causing you to moan. Quinn’s hands instinctively find the wall and the side of your head to balance himself. You begin to go to work, bobbing your head along his shaft, pumping and massaging whatever couldn’t fit in your mouth, and the sounds of your saliva mixed with his excretions, tied in with his whines in response, caused you to grind in your own spot, feeling warmth spreading through your own body. 

You then look up to Quinn through your eyelashes, watching his face contort with your pleasuring, and his chest rising and falling shakily. You held eye contact with Quinn as you slid his member farther into your mouth, until it couldn’t possibly move any farther, and you ran your nails against the skin of his thighs simultaneously, Quinn erupting in a series of groans and profanities at the feeling.

“Fuck, baby, look at you. So fuckin’ pretty taking my cock so well.” He groaned his head tilting back against the wall as his hand gripped the back of your head and pushed lightly to stretch your mouth wider. You almost gag on the pressure, eyes watering, saliva dripping from your chin– making you a complete mess. You then slowly release him from your mouth, a trail of spit hanging between you and his solid cock, and you place a messy kiss on his tip, causing it to twitch in response to the contact. 

“Want me to keep going?” You asked eagerly, hands still placed on his thighs, waiting for him to direct you in the situation. 

Quinn bit his lip, contemplating how he wanted you, before he grabbed your hands and brought you to your own feet. 

“Pants off, now.” He said sternly, his lips attaching to your neck and hands finding either side of your waist. You nodded in compliance, even though you knew he couldn’t see you, and you shimmy out of your tight pants, letting the fabric fall to the floor and leaving you in nothing other than your top and lace panties. 

Quinn’s hands roamed your body as his mouth continued to do work against your skin, your own hands finding their place on his shoulders, gripping tightly. And you almost bite down on his broad shoulder to contain the high-pitched squeal you feel erupting through your throat at the feeling of his hand slipping between the fabric of your panties and dipping into your core. 

Quinn groans in pleasure at the feeling, “fuck, baby, sucking my cock really got you this wet?” He murmured against your collarbone, still decorating your skin with his kisses. 

You hummed in agreement, tugging at the curls by his neck as a way to let him know you needed him instantly. He pulled away from attacking your skin with love bites, meeting your gaze with hungry eyes, and turning you around so your back was flush against his chest. His hands roamed your body, groping the curves and all his favourite parts of you. 

“Panties off, now. I want you bent over that counter.” Was all Quinn said before he guided you urgently towards the sink’s countertop, a mirror hung on the wall, exposing the sex-filled sight of the two of you. 

You complied to his demands, scurrying to fold your hips against the cold countertop, each of your hands pressed against the surface to steady yourself. It wasn’t long before Quinn was positioned behind you, but before he continued, his fingers hooked under your own shirt, and swiftly discarded it, leaving you bare and the cool air and feeling of the counter touching your exposed skin. 

Quinn stroked his own cock a few times, collecting a wad of spit from his mouth to wet his hard member, and you watched intently at his every moves, and as he stepped closer to your frame, you anticipated the feeling of the tip of his cock coming into contact with your throbbing core. 

His one hand was held firmly at the base of his cock, while the other tightly gripped your hip, aligning himself with your entrance before he slowly pushed forward, bottoming you out completely, the stretch and rush of pleasure leaving your mouth hung open. Quinn’s bottom lip was tucked between his teeth as he let the feeling of your core envelope him, clenching against his cock, and his hands roamed your body while you adjusted. 

He reached down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much, ‘kay?” He asked softly, barely audible into your ear. 

You only nodded, unable to form words as Quinn stretched you out in all the right ways. He then slowly began to thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. The anticipation of the way he was going to fuck you, leaving you in a puddle of your own arousal. His hands balanced himself on your hips as his thrusts slowly progressed in speed, his cock sliding along the walls of your core, the contact eliciting a rush of euphoria through your body. 

It was as if a switch had been turned on in Quinn, because his slowly increasing thrusts turned into rough poundings as a shock of pleasure was sent to your clit at the contact of his hips against yours. 

Your mouth continued to hang open in pleasure, watching Quinn determinedly fuck you. Whatever pent up stress, anger, or frustration he had, you knew you had to let him get out, even if that meant it was through destroying you. 

The sounds of your wet pussy slapping against his skin echoed through the bathroom, and Quinn’s grunts that left his mouth followed after each thrust. 

His eyes then shifted from watching his cock slide in and out of you, to meet your eyes through the mirror. He grinned slyly at the sight of your flushed face, his hands roaming your body and coming up to plant themself just tightly enough on the back of your neck while maintaining his speed of thrusts. Your head leaned back into the feeling of his hand on the nape of your neck, holding you tightly in place, the pleasure that erupted through your body feeling so blissful, you weren’t able to formulate words– only small noises of pleasure with each thrust. 

“Look at you baby, so fucking cock drunk– you love when I fuck you like this, huh?” Quinn said through gritted teeth, his own pleasure rushing through his veins. ‘Fuck, Y/n. You feel so fucking good around my cock– so fucking good. Taking me so well.” He praised as he watched intently as you responded with moans to the feeling of his cock bottoming you out with each strong thrust. 

Your eyes shut as you focus on the feeling of Quinn thrusting into you from behind, so harshly, and the shock of pleasure that follows each thrust. And you feel his hand release from the back of your neck, grazing along the side of your face until you feel his two fingers find your open mouth, stuffing his digits into your mouth. As if it were second nature, you began to suck on his fingers, a loud moan falling from your throat at the feeling that now tied in with each thrust, and you started to feel the familiar warmth begin to spread through your body as the knot began to loosen in your core. 

“Just like that, baby. Look at you. Sucking on me so well, your pussy and mouth were fuckin’ made for me.” He groaned, his thrusts increasing to a speed you didn’t even know was possible. You shifted in your position, letting Quinn know through your body language that you were close, and he took that as an invite to hoist your one leg up to rest on the countertop, allowing for Quinn to hit even deeper into your core, a loud moan coming crying out of your throat, being muffled by his fingers. 

Quinn’s hand left your mouth, a string of spit following as you reopened your eyes, seeing your flushed face, smudged mascara and tears welling in your eyes from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, Quinn, I’m so close.” You whined, tucking your head into your chest before looking back up to watch Quinn move from behind you. A moan left your lips in synchrony with each thrust Quinn sent through your body, and you could tell he was approaching his own climax as his thrusts faltered, and began to fall more inconsistent.

“Come for me, baby. Such a fucking good girl– taking me so well. This pussy was fuckin’ made for me” He encouraged again, his one hand slipping between your core and the countertop, his fingers finding your sensitive clit, and sending shocks of pleasure through the bundle of nerves, ultimately leading to your release around his cock. You whine loudly as the rush of euphoria takes over your body, flooding your veins with pleasure and a tingling sensation as you ride your high. Quinn continues to thrust into you, slowing his movements as he approaches his own release. Not long after, he releases into you, his warm, thick excretion filling you to the brim as he stays inside you for a mere minute, before pulling out, leaving your core to ache at the loss. 

He pulls you up from your position over the counter, hugging you against his chest and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “You okay? I wasn’t too rough?” He mumbled against your head, and you turned in his embrace, looking up at him with a loving gaze and planting a quick kiss to his lips. 

“No, that was so good.” You smiled sheepishly, your chest heaving up and down as you came down from your orgasm; the high causing you to feel an immense amount of bliss. “But that wasn’t what I planned, it was supposed to be all about you and making you feel better.” You playfully pout, sticking out your bottom lip and batting your lashes at Quinn. 

He only laughs, pulling you into a tighter hug, “hey, making you sound like that, and just having you like that, already makes me feel ten times better.” 

You dramatically roll your eyes, “fine, so it’s a win-win.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely a win-win.” 

[captain-huggy-bear]

Fishbowl Blues

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, talk about blood/injuries

Summary: You're more stressed and worried over Quinn's busted lip than he is.

Notes: I really hope we're all wrong when we're speculating that Quinn is feeling self conscious of his lip because he is handsome all the time, and he's too good a captain to feel self-conscious. I also hope he heals quickly because I bet its a bitch to eat with.

Also i'm on X-Mas holidays from teaching sooooo feel free to send me your Quinn (and maybe also Jack) thoughts.

You're right at the glass when it happens, a front row seat to the way the stick smashes into his face and the way Quinn slams into the ground in response. Your hands press to the glass urgently as you try to look around the bodies on the ice to see what the damage is. Even as the jumbtron jumps between filming him on the ice and filming you at the rink side. It's not the first time he's been injured on the ice, but usually he pops back up almost immediately, has a sarcastic word for the linesman or complaint and then continues on. Shrugs it off as if its nothing. A few bruises, a little cut, nothing more, nothing less.

Not today.

Today all you see is Quinn down on the ice for longer than he should be, a puddle of bright red, oxygenated blood contrasted against white ice. You push to the side until you can see him clearer as he pushes to his feet, mouth bleeding, hand pressed to cover it. Your eyes lock through the plexi, yours wide, worried, his grimacing in some sort of attempt to reassure you as he skates away across the ice and down the tunnel. It was not, in fact, very reassuring.

It's the worst 15 minutes of your life so far, you feel physically sick knowing you can't follow him, but wanting desperately to, to know if he's okay. Your mind thinking up 101 different possibilities for how damaged he might be. Had he lost teeth? Was it his lip that was split? Was his nose broken? A jaw? A cheekbone?

When he finally skates back out on the ice, fishbowl on, you're worry dials back a step or you think it does, that underlying buzz is still there under your skin. You no longer feel sick as you watch him skate confidently across the ice, score a goal and keep pushing through the rest of the game. The worry doesn't disappear entirely though, you're still unsure what the damage is, but know its enough for them to want him to cover his face from any more harm.

You also know your boyfriend, you know what he's like. He'd keep playing even if his arm was hanging off, it's just the way he is, so the fact he's skating fine doesn't actually reassure you. If anything it worries you more that he's hiding how hurt he is.

When the game ends you're one of the first to rush to the locker room, bouncing on the balls of your feet with nervous energy until you see him. Beanie back in place to cover his curls, suit more rumpled than it was when he arrived at the arena hours prior.

"Quinn..." The buzz of anxiety and adrenaline comes back full force under your skin, your hands shaking as your leg bounces.

"I'm okay..." It's mumbled, barely audible, he winces at the pull on his lip as he tries to talk, stitches stark against his lip. He's swollen, bruised, and clearly in pain but still tries to reassure you as you gently cup his face in your hands. He doesn't want you to worry, can see it in your face, the way our hands shake as they hold him so gently like he might actually break apart from a single touch. He hates it, hates feeling so fragile when he's normally your rock.

"Stop talking, you're going to pull your stitches." You scold him even as your eyes well with tears at how painful it looks. His chuckle at your teacher voice coming out quickly cut off by a hiss of pain, stopped short before it can grow. It's worse than you thought, his lip split in two, held together by a line of stitches. There's bruising under his nose, across his cupids bow and his mouth is swollen to the point where even that looks sore.

He wants to reassure you but talking hurts and he knows you just need to fuss over him, so he lets you brush your thumbs across his cheeks, lets you kiss his nose and chin gently. He lets you lead him out to the car, but refuses to let you carry his equipment.

"I'm driving," you hold your hand out expectantly, waiting for the keys, and he just raises a brow before opening the passenger side door, holding it open for you and waiting. He loves you, but he's not incapable of driving and as much as he'll support your fussing to a point, he'll draw the line here. Especially when he can see you're still shaking as much as you try to hide it.

"Quinn, you got the shit beat out of your face, just let me drive home!" Your hands make their way to your hips, brown furrowed as you glare at him. He can imagine that's the same look you give your high school students when they're being particularly difficult, but it's not working on him.

"No, not happening. Get in, sweetheart." It still hurts to talk and maybe he's a bit quiet with it, trying to move his lip as little as possible, but he's not spending the next god knows how long mute.

"Quinn..." The worry on your face is so clear that he almost considers giving in, you're nervous, you're worried, hell, he might even say you're scared. But, he knows he's okay, or at least, okay enough to drive. He's trying not to think about brushing his teeth or eating dinner right now. Fuck, he just wants a burger and he knows that's an impossibility...or some salty fries...fuck.

"I split my lip. I'm not an invalid." It's the shortness of his tone, the annoyance starting to breach the surface that has you giving in. You want to fuss, but you can see it, this is the hill he'll die on and you can compromise on this. For him. You can compromise for him, if it helps him keep a sense of strength, a sense of masculinity after a shitty day.

"Okay..." you slip into the passenger seat and let him do your seatbelt for you, knowing he needs to feel useful and not being entirely sure you'd manage with how much your hands are shaking. You try not to watch him as he drives, but still find yourself looking from the corner of your eye. You catch each wince, each grimace and it only makes it harder for you not to fuss. Makes that panic in your chest start to rise again as the minutes tick by, the drive feeling so much longer than it is.

Still, you resist talking, resist fussing, even as you can feel the tears welling again because fuck, you'd been absolutely terrified tonight. It's as Quinn pulls into his parking spot that your head presses back into the headrest behind you, eyes blinking back tears as you stare the roof of the car. Hands clenching and unclenching in fists in your lap as you try to will the tears back.

He's watching you from your peripheral vision, hand reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, even as you bite your lip hard to try to keep the tears at bay. You fail absolutely spectacularly.

The tears come streaming thick and fast down your cheeks, quicker than you can brush them away as you start burbling on. The fear, the worry, the anxiety and stress of the game finally boiling over in the safety of the parking garage.

"This is so stupid, you're the one who got hurt...you s-should be crying, n-not me." You feel ridiculous, even as you can't stop the tears from coming, "why am I c-crying, this...this is s-so s-s-stupid..."

If it's possible it makes Quinn love you even more, the way you love him so much that a high stick to the face has you more stressed out than him. He doesn't love the tears, but fuck, he loves how much you care.

"Hey, hey..." it's a soft murmur, interspersed with a few hisses of pain which don't help your tears any, even as he pulls your face towards his, fingers brushing the tears from your cheeks and rubbing softly across your bottom lip which you've bitten nearly to bleeding point. "It's okay, i'm okay...eating'll suck for a while and fuck, i'm going to miss kissing you, but i'm okay, baby..." He actually might be most upset about the fact he can't kiss you when he comes to think of it. He can handle soup for weeks, can handle mint toothpaste stinging his lip, but not kissing you? An actual crime against him.

"B-but, what...what i-if you..." You're stopped in your tracks by him lightly smushing your cheeks together.

"No. No...we're not doing what ifs, not happening, sweetheart, okay?" He lets your face go, fingers combing through your hair, brushing gently across your forehead and down your jaw.

"I..." you're still inhaling sharply with every word, almost hiccuping, the panic still there, if slowly easing down. He hates it, that you're this upset over it. It makes him want to wear a stupid bubble all the time, just to avoid how you're looking at him right now.

"Look at me." There's a pause where he waits for your breath to ease a little, the sharp inhales starting to smooth out with each brush of his fingers , "I'm okay and i'll be okay next game and the next and the next...sure i'm about to get reallllll grumpy without being able to kiss you and, sure, i'm going to be a pain in your ass for a few weeks, but that's not worth your tears, baby."

"I c-can...I can still kiss you though, right?" It makes him huff out a laugh, the way your wet, wide eyes look at him like you're only just realising that you too are going to be punished without kisses from Quinn for weeks.

"Yeah, baby, just, avoid the lips, yeah?"

"O..okay, I can do that." You nod your head to yourself as if you're considering the logistics of it all, which you are. You're contemplating all the places you can kiss him pain free: his forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin...

Quinn watches you for a minute, the redness of your eyes, the way your chest has stopped heaving and for a minute he forgets it all.

"Let's go instead, yeah? I'm okay."

It's quiet, the way you sort yourselves out for the evening. You potter about to reheat some soup you made the other day for him, while he changes into comfy clothes. You eat quietly together, you watching him intently as he eats, every wince noted but the panic isn't there this time. You can breathe, you still hate the fact he's hurt, but the feeling of impending doom is gone, the dread, the fear, it's been eased by his insistance that he's okay.

Quinn navigates brushing his teeth, it takes him twice as long because of how careful he has to be, but he manages. Finally, lying down next to you and pulling you into his arms feels like a reward. The way you curl into him, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder and jaw as you tuck your head under his chin, it makes him feel normal for the first time since he took a hockey stick to the face.

The remaining adrenaline of the day slips away with every rub of his palm against your back, every rise and fall of his chest underneath you, every steady thump of his heart. He's okay, and maybe you're scared he won't be next time, but you knew what you signed up for when you started dating a hockey player. Besides, he's worth every single second of fear.

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) everything

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : extreme fluff no warnings

summary : you and quinn spend christmas eve together and it ends with a beautiful surprise

the apartment smelled like sugar and cinnamon, warm and inviting. the faint hum of a christmas playlist played in the background, filling the air with soft jingles and cheerful tunes. it was december 24, and your favorite tradition with quinn hughes was in full swing: decorating cookies.

you sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, armed with piping bags filled with brightly colored icing, sprinkles scattered across the counter. quinn stood across from you, wearing an apron he’d claimed he didn’t need—though his flour-dusted hands and icing-streaked cheek suggested otherwise.

“alright, quinn-casso,” you teased, pointing at the lopsided tree he’d just decorated. the green icing was uneven, and the star looked more like a blob.

he held it up, feigning offense. “what? this is art. you just don’t get it.”

you laughed, snapping a picture with your polaroid camera. the flash caught him mid-eye-roll, flour still smudged on his cheek.

“add it to the collection,” you said, shaking the photo and setting it on the counter to develop.

the collection was an assortment of candid photos you’d been taking all month—quinn tangled in christmas lights, the two of you picking out a tree, him wearing the santa hat you’d forced on him. the pictures were scattered on the fridge, a chaotic but charming timeline of your holiday season together.

“fine,” quinn said, grabbing another cookie. “but if you’re going to document this, i’m going to make the best-looking snowman you’ve ever seen.”

you leaned on your elbow, watching him carefully pipe white icing onto the cookie. his tongue poked out slightly in concentration, a detail that made your heart swell.

“not bad,” you admitted as he added tiny sprinkle buttons.

“‘not bad’? that’s perfection,” he said, placing it on the tray with a satisfied grin.

you shook your head, laughing softly. “i guess i’ll give you that one.”

the two of you worked through the tray of cookies, decorating everything from candy canes to reindeer. you captured moments on your polaroid as you went: quinn sticking sprinkles on his nose to make you laugh, you holding up a cookie shaped like a heart, and the tray of finished cookies, a chaotic mix of skill and whimsy.

when the cookies were done, you both collapsed onto the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. the christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner, the ornaments catching the glow of the lights.

“i think we outdid ourselves this year,” quinn said, holding up a cookie shaped like a stocking.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, holding up one of your own. “mine are way better.”

he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smiled, leaning into him. “i know.”

⋆˙⟡

as the night wore on, the stack of polaroids grew. quinn had taken over the camera at some point, snapping pictures of you mid-laugh or caught off guard. one photo in particular made you laugh—a close-up of your face, icing smeared on your cheek.

“quinn! i wasn’t ready for that one!”

“that’s the point,” he said, smirking.

eventually, it was time for the part of the evening you both looked forward to the most: exchanging gifts.

“okay,” you said, hopping off the couch and grabbing a small, neatly wrapped box from under the tree. “you first.”

quinn set his mug down, his eyes lighting up as he took the box. “you know you didn’t have to get me anything, right?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “just open it.”

he carefully unwrapped the box, lifting the lid to reveal a vintage hockey puck encased in glass. his jaw dropped.

“is this…”

you nodded, grinning. “it’s from your first-ever college game. i found it online, and the guy who had it was willing to sell. i thought you’d want to have it.”

he stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing the glass. “this is amazing. thank you.”

his voice was soft, and when he looked up at you, his expression was full of gratitude. he set the puck down and leaned over to kiss you, his lips warm and lingering against yours.

“alright,” he said, pulling back. “your turn.”

he stood and grabbed a box from behind the tree. it was big, wrapped in shiny gold paper with a perfectly tied bow.

“wow,” you said, taking it from him. “someone went all out.”

“just open it,” he said, his grin mischievous.

you tore into the paper, lifting the lid to reveal… a polaroid camera. not just any camera, though—it was a custom design, your initials etched into the side, and the strap was embroidered with tiny snowflakes.

“quinn,” you breathed, running your fingers over the details.

“i know how much you love taking pictures,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i thought you’d like something a little more special.”

you set the box aside and threw your arms around him, holding him tightly. “it’s perfect. thank you.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other. the night felt perfect, like something out of a storybook.

“actually…” quinn pulled back slightly, a nervous edge to his voice.

“what?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

he reached into his pocket, and he took out a neatly wrapped box. it wasn’t the biggest gift, but there was something about the way he held it, his expression a mix of nerves and excitement, that made your heart race.

“quinn…” you started, but he cut you off with a small smile.

“here.”

you unwrapped the box carefully, lifting the lid to reveal a delicate silver ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, a small diamond set into the band, understated and perfect. your breath caught in your throat.

“it’s not what you think,” quinn said quickly, rubbing his left arm. it’s not… you know, that ring. not yet, anyway.”

you looked up at him, your heart pounding. “so it’s—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “i know we’re not there yet, but i wanted you to know how serious i am about us. that i want this—you—for the long haul. this is my way of saying i’m all in, even if we’re not at the finish line yet.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared at him, at the boyish grin on his face and the sincerity in his eyes.

“quinny…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“i love you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “and i just wanted you to know that.”

you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you let him slide the ring onto your finger. “i love you too. so much.”

he let out a breath, relief washing over his face as he pulled you into his arms. for a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other.

when you finally pulled back, you held up your hand, admiring the ring. “this is perfect. you’re perfect.”

quinn smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “i wouldn’t say perfect. my cookies were… mediocre.”

you laughed, swatting his arm. “hey, don’t ruin the moment.”

the night went on, filled with more moments that you knew you’d treasure forever. and as you sat there, leaning against quinn with the soft glow of the tree around you, you couldn’t help but think that this christmas was everything you’d ever wanted—and more.

© amourquinn

[theemporium]

Quinn Hughes +ice skating❤️

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“I think this counts as cheating.”

Quinn’s lips twitched upwards. “How is it cheating?” 

“Because this is your profession,” you retorted, your head still staring down helplessly at your own skates. 

Quinn looked at you with a fond expression. “You said you wanted to do something fun and wintery for date night.”

“This is hardly a fun winter activity when it’s like breathing for you,” you muttered, letting out a harsh breath when you felt your skates slip a little but Quinn’s grip on you kept you upright. “Fucking hell, I am going to die.”

Quinn snorted. “You’re not going to die.”

“This might literally be the last date night we ever have.” 

It was no secret that NHL players had schedules from hell. You knew that. Quinn had warned you constantly at the start of your relationship. So many other partners had reiterated the point until it was drilled into your head. You knew that no matter what, the scheduling was going to be a constant hurdle you would have to jump over in your relationship. 

But you had your ways around it. 

The date nights weren’t always every week or anything, but they were planned. It was dedicated time you both put effort into, took turns planning and always stuck to. No matter what was happening in either one of your work lives, it was all left behind for the duration of the date. They were even marked out on your shared calendar because Quinn was oddly endearing and organised like that.

You had made a passing comment to Quinn a week or so ago about wanting to do something more seasonal for your next date night. You just had assumed he would be as predictable as choosing ice skating—albeit, city ice skating in a public rink, but your point still stood. 

“You think I would let you die?” Quinn mused, choosing not to comment on the way you were digging your nails into his arm—even through your gloves. 

“You were the one who dragged me out onto the ice,” you grumbled, letting out a whimpering sound when a kid skated past you at such a high speed that it almost knocked you over by surprise. “This is public humiliation.”

“I would never let anything happen to you,” Quinn assured you as he pulled you closer, continuing to skate backwards with ease because he was a dick like that. “My reputation would be tarnished if you died under my supervision. Jack and Luke would never let me forget it.”

You lifted your head to glare at your boyfriend. 

Quinn’s grin widened in response. “Kidding. Mum would kill me first.”

“Ellen would avenge me,” you said with a nod. 

“You are her favourite.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you snorted but at least you were smiling now. “But I’ll take it right now because I’m pretty sure I am getting a cramp in my leg and I need you to drag me along before that kid skates by again.”

.

[star2fishmeg]

HIII! Can I get an ANGST 117 with Quinn pretty please <3

Thank you for requesting <3

ANGST #117 “What about me? What about my life, my feelings? Where do I come in all this?”

📞 dialling…

Y/n pinched her nose bridge, choking back the tears that burned in her ducts as he droned on. Quinn’s voice was nothing but murmurs the more painful the words became, the same words she’d heard for months on repeat. There were only so many times someone could apologise before their mere voice and the same reasonings became predictable and empty. He’d promised to make it up to her endlessly yet only a few times had he followed through. She had been patient, perhaps too patient and there she was standing in front of him in the living room, blocking his hockey game on the TV while he sat dishevelled, eyes sunken with messy hair from running his hands through it, voice breaking. 

“No, Quinn! You’ve said enough. I know your career, I knew what I was getting myself into, and I got a job flexible enough to work around it. I sit here, on my own and wait for you without complaint because you’re living your dream and you’re fucking good at it. But stop talking and listen.” She broke into a sob, her throat sore and strained from choking back the fact she was two words away from bursting into tears. She took her hand away from her face, folding her arms and giving him a sharp glare, one that he felt piece straight through his entire being that deemed him limp against the cushions. 

He’d done it this time. Not almost, not on thin ice. He had watched them shatter on the floor.

Sitting forward, reaching for her hands tentatively only for y/n to step back from him, something that ran chills down his spine. When someone you love backs away from you, the wall you’d built together crumbles drastically until there’s a wedge between you again. His gut twisted, tears brimming his waterline as he pleaded out, raspy, “Sweetheart, please, this wasn’t my doing! I found out this morning, but this is really important for-”

“Yeah, well, you could have said you couldn’t make it. Like the other guys did. All I wanted was to spend just a week of your free time with you and you only. A couple’s holiday or whatever, just us.” Her voice clipped, moving her weight onto one hip. There were only so many times one could forgive the puppy-dog eyes peering up at her, but this time she shook her head, using her palm to wipe her eyes. 

“I can’t help the schedule, darling. Being a captain comes with a lot more than a player and I don’t wanna let the team or the organisation down. I need them and they need me, I can’t disappoint them-” his voice softened, heartbeat throbbing in his ears and a painful straining tightening in his chest like his throat was closing. 

Hockey this, hockey that, hockey, Captain, hockey, hockey, motherfucking hockey! The only thing that seemed to matter was hockey and she winced, turning her back to him, and taking a deep breath. She spun around, hands flat with fingers locked together, pointing them into her chest. 

“What about me? What about my life, my feelings? Did you ever think about the woman who agreed to marry you?” She broke into a yell, tears breathing the threshold and streaming down her cheeks, looking him in straight in his eyes. She couldn’t have cared less about how ugly she looked crying; his excuses were twice as ugly. Quinn flinched, the first time she’d properly yelled at him - not raising her voice, a yell - and he finally understood the feeling of having the soul sucked out of him. It hurt a lot more when it came from a person. In a quieter, but croaky tone, her blurry vision searched his face, “Where do I come in all this? Your life?” 

Quinn wet his lips, blinking with shaky breaths as they seemed to fall into a staring contest, as she was attempting to assert her dominance in the situation. He gladly submitted, he had no right to at least try and make himself sound like he was right because he wasn’t. He never was in the right from the start. His lips parted, but his fogged mind and jumbled words only let a gravelly noise peep from his throat. He eventually himself off and closed his mouth again, accepting his fate with wet cheeks.

Her sobs were silent, but he watched how they stammered before composing herself. Bitter, she spat the words out, “You’re supposed to be marrying me, not your fucking job, Quintin.”

And she shook her head again in disappointment, spun on her heel and walked away. Seeing his face only sparked a churning inside her anyway. It was like she blacked out with what she did, what she said but she didn’t look back.

His body froze. Cheeks soaking, hot and soaking as his body refused to move. He knew he should’ve gone after her, chased her down the hall but with the room silent and his world plummeting to the ground around him, that sinking feeling in his stomach that left him an empty shell of a human being, how could he bring himself to? Quinn sniffed, eyes wide, sore and locked on the door she just slammed on him. The door she just stormed out of. It takes the biggest mistake of one’s life to happen for them to realise how they need to change and adapt to a new way of living, perhaps one that doesn’t hurt the people they love. And Quinn had just watched his fiancée leave because he failed to make her feel loved and important, the one thing he promised he would do. 

The grey clouds outside hugged together and formed a blanket over the city of Vancouver, shadowing Quinn’s apartment, casting darkness into the front entrance as his chest burst into rumbly sobs, mucus croaking in his throat and an anchor of regret crushing him. All he wanted to know was whether she’d be back this time.

[rgwriteshockey]

side by side w/ quinn hughes ⇒

quinn hughes x gf!reader

summary: quinn hughes gets named captain of the vancouver canucks, and his girlfriend of five years, y/n, is right there with him. from the hype of the announcement to the pressures of being captain, she’s his rock. as quinn steps into the role, he juggles the weight of leadership and the challenges of the season, but with y/n’s support, he stays grounded. they continue to grow together, face tough moments, and celebrate the good ones. through it all, they prove that they’re stronger together—both on the ice and off.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mild language, happy relationship

a/n: fic #2!! hope yall enjoy and don't forget to like!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

quinn hughes had always rolled with the changes. from the days he spent watching hockey games from the sidelines, dreaming of being in the nhl, to getting drafted by the vancouver canucks, and now, stepping into the role of team captain. it felt like all those late nights, tough games, and moments of doubt had led him to this point.

but the one thing that made all of this feel even more meaningful? you being there right beside him.

you and quinn had been together for five years, through all the ups and downs that came with being in a relationship with someone who lived such a high-profile life. you’d been there for his breakout moments, when he nailed an insane assist or made a game-saving play. but you’d also been there when things didn’t go right—when the team wasn’t performing well, when he got hurt, or when the pressure of living up to expectations seemed like it might break him.

through all of it, you’d been the person he could lean on. and now, as he stood at the threshold of a new chapter—becoming captain of the canucks—it felt surreal, but it also felt like something he truly deserved.

────────────────────────────────────────────

it was a crisp morning when quinn was officially named captain of the vancouver canucks. the press conference was packed with reporters, cameras flashing, and everyone eager to hear what quinn had to say. the excitement in the air was contagious, but you could tell that quinn was feeling a bit of the pressure too. he stood there, looking calm on the outside, but you could see the nerves in his eyes. this was a big moment.

you sat in the front row, next to his family. jack, his brother, had flown in to support him, and you could see the pride in his eyes every time he looked at quinn. you weren’t the only one who was proud—everyone in the room could feel the weight of this moment. but even so, quinn’s demeanor was humble as ever. he didn’t seem to let the spotlight rattle him.

"thank you all for being here," the canucks' gm said from the podium. "it’s an honor to introduce the new captain of the vancouver canucks: quinn hughes."

the room erupted in applause. quinn gave a modest nod as he stepped up to the microphone. you could see how much this meant to him, but he kept his composure as always. he adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and started speaking.

“it’s an honor to be here today,” quinn said, his voice strong, but there was a bit of a nervous edge to it. “being part of this organization has been incredible, and it means the world to me to have the chance to lead this team. but none of this happens without the people who’ve been there for me along the way—my teammates, my coaches, my family, and, of course, my girlfriend, y/n.”

your heart skipped a beat as quinn’s eyes found you in the crowd. the moment felt surreal, as all the eyes in the room turned to you. it wasn’t something you expected—being called out like that. but there he was, giving you that soft smile, the one you loved so much, as if to say, “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

you quickly wiped a tear from your eye, feeling all sorts of emotions hit at once. quinn wasn’t just a hockey player to you—he was your partner, your best friend, the person who made all the long nights worth it.

“y/n has been there for me through everything,” quinn continued. “She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock. I’m proud to share this moment with her.”

the room erupted in applause again, and you felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. it was overwhelming, but in the best way. quinn’s words made everything feel like it was meant to be.

after the press conference ended, reporters started to trickle out, but quinn didn’t rush. he made his way to you, his family following behind, and you met him halfway.

"hey," quinn said, his voice low, as he wrapped you in a hug. "thank you for always being here. for everything."

you hugged him tight, your heart full. “you deserve this, quinn. I’m so proud of you.”

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

you both stood there for a moment, away from the chaos, just the two of you. no words were needed. you both knew this was just the beginning of something huge.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of excitement and adjustment. quinn was officially the captain now, and it came with a lot more responsibility. he was taking on extra meetings, spending more time at the rink, and handling pressure that he’d never had to before. but through it all, he kept his calm. he took the responsibility seriously, but he didn’t let it consume him.

you saw the subtle changes in him—he was more focused, more aware of how his actions affected the team. he was always the first one on the ice, pushing the younger players to work hard. but he also made sure to check in with everyone, making sure the guys knew they had his back. he wasn’t just the captain on paper—he was earning the respect of his teammates every day.

at home, it wasn’t much different. after a tough game, where the canucks had lost in overtime, you found quinn sitting on the couch, staring out the window. the city lights below twinkled, but he seemed lost in thought.

“rough game?” you asked, walking over and sitting beside him.

quinn let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. “yeah, we just couldn’t get it together. I made that last pass, and I messed it up.”

you gently squeezed his hand. “you can’t win them all, quinn. you’ve been killing it all season. one mistake doesn’t change that.”

he gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was still frustrated. “I just hate feeling like I let everyone down. I’m supposed to be the leader.”

“you’re doing great,” you reassured him. “nobody expects you to be perfect. your team knows you’re doing everything you can, and they look up to you for it.”

quinn looked at you, his eyes softening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, y/n. you make everything easier.”

you grinned and gave his hand a soft squeeze. “I’m always gonna be here, quinn. don’t ever forget that.”

he pulled you into a tight hug, and for a while, that was all you needed. just to be there together, away from everything. the world outside could wait.

────────────────────────────────────────────

as the season wore on, quinn settled into the role of captain. the canucks started clicking as a team, and with quinn leading the charge, their play was getting better and better. he seemed to grow more comfortable with each game, more confident in his leadership abilities. but despite the growing success, he stayed grounded. he was still the same quinn you’d known from the beginning—humble, hardworking, and always ready to laugh at the little things.

one night, after a huge win, quinn and the team went out to celebrate. you stood at the back of the room, watching him interact with his teammates, joking around and laughing. he looked like a natural leader, fitting perfectly into this new role. but it was when his eyes found yours across the room that your heart skipped a beat. you could see the pride in his gaze, the quiet appreciation that you were there, supporting him every step of the way.

later that night, when most of the team had left, quinn pulled you aside in the quiet of the hallway. he looked at you with a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

“you’ve been with me through everything,” he said quietly, taking both your hands in his. “I couldn’t have done this without you. I’m so thankful for you, y/n.”

you smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m proud of you, quinn. you’ve earned this.”

quinn stepped closer and pulled you into a kiss—gentle, full of meaning, and everything you’d ever needed. the world outside seemed to disappear as he kissed you, and for a few moments, it was just the two of you. the pressure, the expectations, the challenges—they didn’t matter. you were together, and that was enough.

and as the season continued, you both knew that this was only the beginning. quinn’s leadership was just taking shape, and with you by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t face. the road ahead was full of possibilities, and you’d be there with him every step of the way.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |4|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 2.5k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Tara let her head fall back, opting to just glare at the ceiling. After Ghostface attacked, an officer had taken their statements then ordered Tara herself, you, and Sam into the back of a police cruiser. The cop brought all of you to the station and then stuck all three of you in the same interrogation room. Tara wasn’t sure why they needed to be interrogated; they were the ones attacked after all. That was beside the point though because they had been there for hours without anyone coming to check on them, let alone question them.

Tara was sitting in the middle with you on one side of her and Sam on the other side. Sam was in a similar position as her, rolling her head back and forth, trying to not lose her mind as the three of you waited for some cop to come in and tell you how they intend to catch this guy, even though Tara was sure they would fail, no matter what plan they came up with. You on the other hand had your head down your chin resting on your chest with your eyes closed. You had a long night at work, then Tara got herself in trouble and made you come out to search for her, you got barely a few hours of sleep on an uncomfortable couch, then you got attacked by Ghostface, and now you were sitting in a police station.

Tara glanced down at your bandaged arm, you had worse, so much worse, but Tara couldn’t peel her eyes away from the blood already soaking through. The paramedic had offered, strongly encouraged really, that you go to the hospital, but you had denied them. Ghostface hadn’t even been back a full day and you were already hurt. You didn’t even hesitate to knock the shelf over, just to buy Tara and Sam more time to escape, even though your knee was already causing you so much pain.

Tara furrowed her brow as she watched a pained expression cross your face right before you began shifting in your seat. You opened your eyes and readjusted yourself with a grimace. “Are you okay?” Tara asked. She was sure it was a stupid question; Sam said your knee bothered you regularly and you just put a ton of strain on it trying to protect them.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, though it wasn’t very convincing. “Just need rest,” you closed your eyes again. “And ice.” Tara nodded, though she was still unsure. Still, if you said all you needed was rest and ice, then she would make sure to get that for you, as soon as they could get back to the apartment, she would make sure you were comfortable in bed, prop your knee up with all the pillows, and get all the ice, making sure to change it as soon as it seemed like it was melting.

“This Ghostface-” Sam started.

“Don’t,” you instantly cut her off. “Not here,” you flicked your eyes to a corner of the room.

Tara followed your line of sight and saw a camera in the top corner of the room with a little blinking red light. Tara slumped back in her chair, they were already being recorded, not to mention the giant mirror, which was as probably actually two-way glass like in all the movies. She wondered if whoever was in charge was standing behind the mirror, just watching them this whole time. Sam seemed to agree with you because she just nodded and crossed her arms as she slumped back against her own chair.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” a man said, finally entering the room. All three of you looked up and Tara couldn’t help but furrow her brow, the man was Quinn’s father.

“So, our roommates dad just happened to pull our case?” Sam questioned. Tara raised her brow and saw you narrow your eyes at Bailey. It would be one hell of a coincidence if that were the case.

“No, my buddy did,” Bailey explained with a smile, but it did nothing to ease Tara’s suspicion. “But he offered it to me when it involved my daughters’ roommates.”

“Don’t you think that’s a conflict of interest?” You asked. You tilted; you had that look in your eye, the one you got when you were suspicious of someone’s motives.

“I could give it back to him if you want,” Bailey offered, giving another slightly awkward smile.

Tara watched you and Sam share a look. Tara didn’t know whether Bailey being on the case would be helpful or harmful, she knew why the two of you were suspicious, so she’d follow your lead in whatever the two of you decided. If Bailey was involved somehow then part of Tara wanted him nowhere near you and her friends, but another part of her knew the saying of keep your friend close and your enemies closer.

“It’s fine,” Sam finally decided.

“Great,” Bailey said. “Let’s start off with where you were last night?”

“I was at work most of the night,” you answered.

“And I was in therapy,” Sam said.

“Frat party,” Tara added.

“Then Sam and I got home about the same time,” you continued. “And quickly left to find Tara.”

“Which they did,” Tara couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the memory.

“And can others corroborate that?” Bailey asked.

“Yeah, we were with our friends Chad, Mindy, Ethan and Anika,” Sam said.

“I’m sure we made quite the impression to everyone at the party as well,” you added. Tara flicked a glare at you as you silently smiled to yourself, even though she herself also wanted to laugh.

Bailey furrowed his brow and looked at you questioningly. “I might have tased someone,” Sam said. Bailey opened and closed his mouth a few times as if he were surprised by this. Tara wasn’t sure why, he’d met Sam plenty of times, he knew how she was. “Completely warranted,” Sam crossed her arms, clearly feeling no sympathy for tasing Frankie, not that Tara cared about him either.

“Right,” Bailey said slowly. “Moving on, is there anyone you can think of who would want to kill you? Any of you have any enemies you can think of?”

“None who are alive,” Tara said with a shrug.

Bailey’s eyes widened at that. “And enemies?” you asked. “Half the internet,” you gestured with your hand. “Someone started some bullshit about what happened last year and how Sam was secretly behind it,” you rolled your eyes.

Tara couldn’t help but smile when she looked at you. You and Sam might not have been best friends, but you had been sticking up for her since all the Reddit posts came out. You were there and obviously knew the truth about what happened but you were also always one of the first to defend Sam if everyone was out and some stranger tried to say something to her.

“You were the prime suspect last year,” Bailey said, directing his attention to you. “Isn’t that, right?”

“And she was innocent,” Tara snapped, she wouldn’t let someone accuse you again. She never listened to any of the accusations last year and she always defended you, but she could have done more, she wouldn’t let anyone try and think the worst of you.

“Of course,” Bailey smiled; it was clear he was just trying to diffuse the tension though. “Just want to go over all the facts.”

“The facts are, some psycho is trying to kill us for some reason that only makes sense to their fucked-up mind.” Tara crossed her arms and glared across the table at Bailey. She went through this last year, and she wasn’t about to entertain this as anything less this time around.

Bailey opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by a knock at the door. “The FBI is here,” an officer said, poking his head in.

“What?” Bailey asked. “Why are they here?”

Bailey grumbled and quickly ran out of the room. Tara looked from her sister to you, and it seemed all of you agreed not to wait around. Tara wasn’t an expert, but she was well aware the police couldn’t hold any of you unless they were charging you and they had nothing to charge you with.

“Let’s go,” Sam mumbled.

Everyone got up and made their way out of the interrogation room. Tara glanced back to make sure you were still there as the three of you made your way through the police station. “Kirby?” Sam asked, stopping as she passed by one of the rooms.

“Sam?” someone asked. When they came out of the room Tara saw it was Kirby Reed, she used to go to school with Sam and was part of the 2011 Ghostface attacks. “Tara,” Kirby nodded at her. Her eyes paused on you, and she tilted her head as she took you in. “You must be Y/N,” she held out her hand. “Kirby Reed.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled but shook Kirby’s hand. “You’re with the FBI?”

Kirby nodded. “I’ve been investigating any and all things related to Ghostface.” You let out a curious hum. “Was already tracking your classmates,” she pointed at Tara. “When I got notified of their murder, then of the attack last night.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “That’s why we’re getting the hell out of town.” Sam turned to walk away without even a goodbye.

“Wait,” Kirby jogged to catch up with Sam. “You can’t leave town.” Sam rolled her eyes and gave Kirby a disbelieving look. Tara still wasn’t fully okay with just abandoning her education and running away but even she couldn’t believe Kirby was telling them to stick around. “This is still an active investigation.” Tara rolled her eyes, even though none of them were being charged they were still being treated like suspects.

“Whatever,” Sam mumbled. She pulled out her phone and Tara held her breath as she waited to see who had messaged Sam. “It’s Mindy.” Tara released the breath, she was sure Chad and Mindy were freaking out, no one had talked to them since they called to warn Sam about Ghostface being back. “She wants us to meet them at the school to go over suspects.”

“Great,” you mumbled. Tara looked back at you and her gaze softened, she knew everyone ganged up on you last year when they were going over suspects. Tara still felt bad at the fact that she insisted on you going to the meet up and then you not only got accused of being a murderer but also got attacked.

Tara wrapped her arms around your waist to try and bring you a little comfort while Sam continued to talk to Kirby. Once Sam agreed that none of you would leave town Kirby allowed all of you to leave. The three of you made your way to the front doors and Tara could already hear the crowd on the others side and see the flashing lights of cameras. She subconsciously curled into your side, and you put your arm around her shoulder in a protective embrace, almost like it was a reflex, before the three of you opened the doors and stepped outside.

Tara was tucked under your arm as the three of you pushed your way out of the police station. It seemed word had definitely gotten out about Ghostface being behind the attacks and now reporters were surrounding the station, screaming questions at the three of you. Tara thought last year was bad, with the amount of people calling every day, all of them trying to get a quote and ask for her side of the story.

Tara could hear her name being called from all directions, but she did as Sam told her and kept her head down and her eyes forward. Despite whatever was going on with you and her she knew you’d always protect her. You were probably still mad at her and yet your grip around her only tightened as the three of you pushed through the crowd.

Tara couldn’t help but release a breath when the three of you finally broke free of the crowd. “Gale Weathers,” a familiar voice from behind said. Even if Tara didn’t know Gale’s voice, she would have known it was her based on the way your entire body froze. “Channel Four.”

Sam was the first to whip around, Tara could hear the scoff, confirming it was in fact Gale behind them. Tara turned around in your arm, making your arm fall from her shoulder down to her waist, you still had yet to turn around though. Tara gently brushed her fingers across your hand and felt you physical relax. You turned your head first, meeting her gaze and she offered you a soft smile and a squeeze of your hand, it’s the only thing she could do to show she was there for you in that moment.

“Ladies,” Gale said with her typical reporter smile. “Do you think you’re the reason Ghostface is here?” she held the mic out for them to answer.

Sam scoffed and threw a punch. Tara didn’t see it coming but clearly Gale did as she easily dodged it and just came back with a chuckle. “Nice try sweety, but I’ve done this dance before.”

Tara didn’t know what got into her because as soon as those words left Gale’s mouth Tara clenched her fist and swung, clocking Gale right in the jaw, she didn’t see that one coming it seemed. “Stay the hell away from us,” Tara said, glaring at the woman.

Tara intertwined her hand with yours and pulled you away. You hadn’t spoken to Gale since Woodsboro, at least you had not truly spoken to her. You didn’t want a relationship with her and Gale didn’t seem interested in trying. Tara followed after Sam, making sure to not let you go, you still hadn’t said anything since getting out of the interrogation room.

Sam hailed a cab and the three of you piled into the taxi, with you getting in first, then Tara, and finally Sam. Sam slammed the door shut and told the man to take them to Blackmore University. Sam rested her arm against the door and propped up her head on her hand. It seemed like Sam was a little in her head at the moment so to try and give her space Tara directed her attention back to you.

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered. You looked over at her, your eyebrows pinched together in a silent question. “For the punch.”

Your mouth twitched up into a smile and you lifted your intertwined hands and brought them to your mouth, giving her fingers a soft kiss. Tara couldn’t help but smile, she was sure she was blushing at the action. It was something you had done a thousand times but doing it now, when she clearly didn’t deserve your softness, it almost felt like how the two of you used to be.

“That was a good punch,” you said. “Guess you really don’t need my protection.”

Tara frowned at your sad smile. “I’ll always need you,” she whispered back. She gave your hand another squeeze and your smiled brightened a little. Tara knew she there was still a lot the two of you needed to talk about, a lot she needed to apologize for, but she was going to start by being there for you now and reassuring you whenever she had to.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrry-lov3 @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Please # 51 “I’m your husband. It’s my job.”   ☁️For Quinn Thank you !

ooo this is very Quinn Hughes - eldest daughter, protector of everyone coded for sure!

Drabble Masterlist.

"I'm your husband. It's my job."

You were sick, sicker than you have ever been. It was some type of stomach bug that was going around and for some reason your body just couldn't shake it. This was one of the first times in your entire life that you truly had relay on someone fully to help take care of you.

Quinn was amazing throughout the entire experinece. He brought you soap and made sure you ate things that you could actually keep down. Since you felt so sick he kept a bucket next to your side of the bed for you to throw up in if needed, he never complained when he had to clean it out even though if roles were reversed you defintely would. Your body was so fatigued that you even had to get Quinn to help you to the bathroom. He helped you shower, he made sure even though you felt like crap you still showered everyday because he knows that's important.

He made sure you took all your medicine on time and listened to all the doctors instructions. Even though you told him not too because he would get sick, he never left your side almost always cuddling you as you watched whatever you wanted on T.V. You were so out of it you didn't even realize at one point you were watching a Canucks game and Quinn was cuddling up next to you instead of on the ice in Seattle. But once your mind realized you gasped in shock.

Quinn tore his eyes from the t.v. quickly, "what's wrong?" he asked frantically ready to jump up to help in anyway he could.

"Quinny! That's your team!" you tried to raise your voice but it came out more dry and raspy then you would of liked. A smile slowly creeped on his face.

"Yeah that's why I'm watching it gotta make sure Brock and Petty are doing a good job for me." he chuckles still looking down at you.

"No. Your suppose to be there not here. It's your job to be there! People are counting on you. If you leave now you'll make the Kings game for tomorrow." you argue, you try to push him so he leaves the bed but even if you weren't weak from being sick you wouldn't be able to move Quinn unless he wanted you to.

"Yes it's my job. But I'm your husband. It's my job to take care of you. Remember, sickness and health, they'll be okay for a few games without me." grabbing your and pulling you so you were pracatically laying on top of me. "Both are my job, but your my most important job. Okay?" he asks making sure your paying attention even in your delirious state due to the stomach flu.

"okay." you whisper, turning your head trying to focus on the game on the t.v. but you fall asleep before the current shift was even over.

[astars-things]

for lando x hughes reader au: you take lando to the hughes bowl and he's sitting there completely clueless.

When I told Lando I was taking him to a hockey game, he was excited—until he realized he had absolutely no clue what was going on.

"Wait, so both your brothers are playing against each other?" he asked as we walked into the arena.

"Yep," I grinned. "Jack and Luke on the Devils, Quinn on the Canucks. It’s the Hughes bowl tonight."

As soon as we took our seats, Lando was already confused. “So, uh… what’s the goal here?” he asked, watching as the players skated around in warmups.

I laughed. “Score goals, babe.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part. But, like, what are the rules? What’s offside? How many guys are on the ice at once?”

Oh boy. I had my work cut out for me.

“Okay,” I started, pointing toward the ice. “Each team has six players on the ice—five skaters and one goalie. The goal is to get the puck into the net. If you cross the blue line before the puck does, that’s offside.”

Lando nodded slowly, like he was trying to process everything. “Right, right… so it’s like track limits in F1?”

I blinked. “Uh… sure? But also no. I’ll explain as we go.”

The game started, and the crowd roared to life. I could see Jack and Luke out there, already chirping Quinn. Lando jumped when a big hit was thrown against the boards in front of us.

“Wait, they can just… do that?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Yep. As long as it’s clean, they can hit each other all they want.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “F1 drivers would cry if we had to deal with that.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yeah, you guys are divas compared to hockey players.”

He shook his head, still baffled. "If I did that in F1, I’d be banned for life."

I laughed as I focused back on the game. Jack had the puck now, weaving his way through defenders, and I elbowed Lando excitedly. "Watch Jack, he's gonna—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Quinn stepped up and stole the puck cleanly, sending Jack stumbling slightly. Lando gasped like he just witnessed a crime.

"That was his own brother!"

"Yeah, well, sibling loyalty doesn’t exist on the ice," I grinned. "Quinn’s the enemy tonight."

Lando let out an exaggerated sigh, slumping back in his seat. "This sport is brutal."

I smirked, knowing he hadn’t seen anything yet.

Midway through the second period, Luke threw a massive hit on one of Quinn’s teammates, and Lando physically jumped in his seat. "Did he just—was that—what the hell?"

"Calm down, babe," I teased. "It's all part of the game."

"And nobody's getting arrested?" he asked, genuinely bewildered.

"Nope."

He ran a hand through his curls and shook his head. "This is insane."

The game continued with Lando throwing out more confused comments. "Why are they fighting?" "Why is that guy going into a tiny penalty box like he's in timeout?" "Wait, they just skate off for a line change? No pit stops?"

I was doing my best to keep up with his endless questions while also enjoying the game, but when Jack finally scored, I grabbed Lando’s arm and yanked him up with me as I cheered.

"Wait, was that Jack?!"

"YES!" I yelled.

Lando laughed at my excitement but still looked slightly overwhelmed by everything happening around him. "I feel like I need a rulebook and a therapist after this."

By the end of the game, the Devils won 4-2, and Jack and Luke had bragging rights over Quinn for the night. After the game, we’re waiting for my brothers when a reporter spots Lando and decides to interview him. The poor guy still looks overwhelmed.

"So, Lando, this was your first NHL game. What did you think?"

Lando exhales dramatically. "Honestly, I have no idea what just happened. I feel like I just watched a war on ice."

The reporter laughs. "Did you have a team you were cheering for?"

Lando glances at me before grinning. "Well, my girlfriend made it pretty clear I had to cheer for Jack and Luke, so I did. But Quinn was insane—I thought he was going to murder someone."

I shake my head as Lando continues rambling about how he still doesn’t understand how half the game is legal. He may be clueless about hockey, but at least now, he’s a fan.

[capquinn]

cubby’s first winning game, he wastes no time running to quinn and mom 🥲

this got me thinking about how dad!quinn would be the most low-key, easy going hockey dad ever. He's just happy to be there, clapping, letting Cub do his thing. He just wants Cub to love the game like he loves it 😭 This is a follow up to this blurb.

Cub’s first real game.

Mini Mites.

A tiny, jumbled mass of kids out on the ice, all of them barely able to stay upright, sticks too big, jerseys hanging loose over their pads. They chase the puck in a tight cluster, more instinct than strategy, all crashing into each other in a way that makes the game barely resemble hockey. But to Cub? This is serious. This is everything. His first real game with a real team and a real scoreboard, and his little heart is pounding with excitement.

And just like Quinn promised, he’s in the stands.

Cub knows exactly where to find him — where to find all of them, the whole family. You’re right there in the middle, bundled up in your jacket, hands clasped together as you watch so intently, like you feel every stride he takes. Bug is sitting beside you, already acting like she’s an expert in the game, pointing things out, bouncing on her toes whenever Cub hops onto the ice.

Even Ellen and Jim are here, actually in Vancouver for the occasion, watching their grandson’s first game with just as much focus as if it were an NHL playoff match. Luke and Jack had even sent a video message that morning, telling Cub to “score lots and play fast” like he was about to step onto NHL ice instead of a local rink.

And Quinn? Quinn is standing, arms crossed, watching so closely, like every little movement Cub makes is the most important thing in the world.

And Cub? Cub keeps checking for him.

Whenever he’s on the bench, whenever he’s about to cross over the threshold onto the ice, whenever he gets a break in the action, his little head tilts up, eyes scanning the stands until he finds Quinn — until he sees that nod of encouragement, the steady thumbs up from his dad.

Quinn remembers doing the same thing as a kid. Looking up at his parents, checking for their faces in the crowd, searching for that quiet reassurance that they were watching, that they were there. And now? Now, it’s Cub doing the same thing, searching for him, depending on him, and Quinn swallows against the lump forming in his throat.

And then — somehow — his team wins.

It doesn’t even matter that they’re all still learning, that half the game was spent with kids skating the wrong way or getting tangled up with their own teammates. All Cub knows is that the final buzzer sounds, and his team won, and the second his little brain processes it, he whips around, craning his neck, searching.

For you. For Bug. For daddy.

And when he finds you all — sees you cheering, sees Bug practically vibrating with excitement, sees Quinn clapping, smiling wide, so proud — he beams.

And then — just like daddy always does when he wins — he holds his stick up high above his head in your direction, his tiny gloved hand shaking from the excitement.

Quinn laughs, shaking his head, still clapping. And you? You are smiling so wide your cheeks hurt, your heart full to the brim.

Bug is yelling something, voice nearly lost over the noise of the rink, but Quinn catches the tail end of it—

"—knew he’d win, daddy! I told you he’s good!"

Cub barely waits for the handshake line before he’s scrambling off the ice, clunky and unsteady, practically falling into Quinn’s arms the second he reaches the stands.

"We won, daddy!" he yells, beaming up at him through the cage of his helmet.

"You did," Quinn grins, crouching so he’s at eye level. "That was awesome, Cubby."

"I skated so fast," Cub says, chest puffed out, and Quinn hums like he’s thinking hard about it.

"You did. Super fast." He reaches out, tapping the top of his helmet. "Think I might have to start calling you Speedy instead of Cub."

Cub loves that. Grinning, nodding hard before he turns to you next, reaching up with grabby hands.

"Mommy, did you see me?"

You crouch down, arms already open. "I saw you, baby. You were incredible."

He crashes into you, clumsy in all his gear, but you don’t mind, pressing kisses to the side of his helmet, rubbing his back through his jersey.

"We are so proud of you, Cubby."

"We are!" Ellen chimes in, beaming as she reaches out to squeeze his gloved hand. "That was amazing, sweetheart. You played just like your daddy when he was little."

Jim nods beside her, full of quiet pride.

"Looked real good out there, Cub," he says, and Cub just about vibrates with excitement, barely able to contain himself as he turns back to Quinn.

He tilts his head up. "Can I have a snack now?"

Quinn huffs out a laugh, crouching back down to Cub’s level, fingers already working at the chin strap of his helmet.

"Yeah, little man," he says, popping it open with a soft click before easing the helmet off.

The second it’s off, Cub shakes his head, sending his damp curls into an unruly mess. Quinn grins, ruffling them.

"Let’s get you changed first, okay?"

Cub nods eagerly, still bouncing on the balls of his feet, too full of energy to stand still, his hands already tugging at his gloves, ready to shed his gear and celebrate.

Quinn tucks Cub’s helmet under one arm, his other draping loosely around his son’s small shoulders as they head toward the locker room. Cub barely notices, too caught up in the rush of it all, talking a mile a minute — about the goal he almost scored, about how fast he skated, about how he knew they were going to win the whole time.

"And did you see when I almost fell but I didn’t? I kept my balance like this—" Cub stops walking and wiggles in place on his skates, reenacting the moment.

"It was pretty impressive," Quinn chuckles, nodding along, letting Cub bask in the moment, his little voice echoing down the hall.

Every few steps, Cub looks up at him, eyes shining, and Quinn squeezes his shoulder, pride swelling in his chest.

Quinn glances down at Cub, still buzzing, still rambling, his little hands moving animatedly as he recounts every moment. And for a second, Quinn sees himself — sees a kid with too much love for the game to hold back, all energy and excitement, barely able to keep his feet on the ground. He remembers his first game, remembers the way his skates felt too big, the way his heart pounded in his chest, how the rink had seemed so massive back then.

He remembers his dad standing there, patient, listening to every word, nodding along like it was the most important thing in the world. Remembers the way his chest raced at the sound of his dad’s praise, how badly he wanted to make him proud. And now, as he watches Cub beam up at him, eyes shining, cheeks flushed from the cold, Quinn feels it all come full circle

And God, it knocks the breath right out of him.

Because somehow, all at once, Cub is still so little, still learning, still growing — but he’s already here, already chasing something Quinn has loved his whole life. And Quinn? He just feels lucky to be the one beside him, watching him fall in love with it too.