#quinn hughes angst

[lovecla]

STUCK WITH YOU ; QUINN HUGHES.

❄︎ pair: quinn hughes x y/n.

❄︎ synopsis: of all the things y/n thought she was going to do on christmas eve, being stuck with her sister’s brother-in-law, quinn hughes, wasn't one of them.

❄︎ word count: 5.6k

❄︎ chapter warnings: unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, use of the word slut (once), softdom!quinn, dirty talk.

💌 from me to you: merry christmas, babies 🩶 i hope all of you had a great time and lots of delicious food. 1st of all, i’d like to apologise bc i got carried away with the word count! 2nd of all, i’m sorry about how dirty this is… this was supposed to be wholesome and cute but i don’t know what happened 😭 sorry…. anyways, as always, forgive me for this poorly written smut and share with me your thoughts! i love you! ♡

𖧷

Ever Since your sister started dating one of the most known hockey players, Luke Hughes, your life changed— for the better, that is. It’s not like you’re used to all the attention, but it’s nice to attend parties and meet your favorite hockey players for free.

But, the only issue you didn’t see coming when she announced that she was, in fact, very much in love with the youngest of the Hughes brothers is that now you have to constantly coexist with your long time celebrity crush, Quinn Hughes.

It’s an old thing, your situation with Quinn Hughes. You first started noticing him during his time in college, when he was just eighteen.

None of your friends understood what was so special about him but you just told them they didn’t have to: Quinn Hughes is one of the most attractive men you have ever seen, and you’ll stand by that until the end of your days.

When your sister decided that she would make Luke Hughes hers, you remember laughing and saying: He’ll be yours when Quinn Hughes’s mine.

Turns out, Luke is your sister’s.

And, well. Quinn’s not yours.

When you’re around him, during dinners and parties, you almost don’t even acknowledge him. It’s just because you don’t know how to be around him without immediately blushing and cringing at your own words.

It’s like you’re a teenager all over again, but what else can you do, really. He’s attractive, he’s funny and he cares about the people he loves; you cannot not be in love with someone like him.

But now you’re his brother’s sister in law and have been for the past year. You have been doing a great job at not staying in the same room as him for too long, and even if you can come off as rude or mean, it’s better than to get caught while watching him with lovey eyes.

It’s December 24th, and you’re on your way to your sister’s house, where you’d spend Christmas with her— and since she’s only arriving later that night because of work, you’ll be there earlier to arrange things for her.

You’re annoyed by the fact that she has to work until late during Christmas time but at least you’ll get to spend the night with at least one of your family members, since your parents are out of town.

What’s also annoying is the fact that it’s cold and snowing. Not just normal, winter type of snow but North-Pole type of snow. You’re shivering inside your car, because your heater is broken and you stupidly decided that it’d be a great idea to wear just leggings and a sweatshirt.

You park in front of her house, sighing and trying to move as fast as your frozen limbs could. You’re also carrying a hundred bags with you, because decorating is your favorite part of Christmas and knowing your sister and her workaholic personality, you know that she probably doesn’t even have her tree out of her attic yet— so you’ll have to do the whole decorating thing by yourself.

Which you silently prefer because there’s nothing you hate more when people try to dictate where your ornaments should go.

You ring her doorbell first, before dumbly realizing that she’s probably at work already, so you just start looking for the spare key she gave you when the door opens, making you lift your head up with a smile, only to drop it two seconds later.

“Oh.”

Quinn’s looking back at you with a polite smile, and you’re not sure that what you’re seeing is actually real because why the hell would Quinn Hughes be at your sister’s house during Christmas?

“Hi, Y/n.” He says, leaning against the door frame.

You frown without even noticing it. Why didn’t she warn you that he would be at her house?

You’ve been staring at him for what feels to be hours, when he speaks again: “Aren’t you… cold?”

You realize that he’s right and you are cold. Cold and tired because you’re still holding the heavy bags, so you just nod and watch as he opens the door more and reaches for the bags in your hand, picking all four of them up like they’re not heavy at all and letting you in.

You’re still in shock and shivering when you close the door behind you, welcoming the warm air inside the house, thankful for your sister’s amazing heating system.

Quinn walks back to the living room and you grab your phone, dialing your sister’s number and putting the phone against your ear.

“Y/n? Are you—”

“Why didn’t you tell me he would be at your place?!” You shout slash whisper, hiding behind her clothes rack.

“Who’s he? Why are you whispering?”

“What do you mean who’s he?” You hiss. “I’m talking about him!”

“Who’s… Oh.”

“Yes. Oh.”

Her laugh makes you blush. “I didn’t think he’d arrive so soon. I told him he could come later because you’d be the only one there so I just guessed… well. Nevermind.”

“What do I do?!” you sound so desperate it’s almost funny. “I can’t be here! You know I—”

“Y/n, stop freaking out. It’s just Quinn,” you can almost hear her eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Go decorate and do all that stuff you like to do during Christmas. I’ll pick up the food goodies when I leave work, so please just… be normal.”

“What do you mean be normal I can’t—”

“I gotta go. I love you. Bye.”

She hangs up the call and leaves you staring at your phone screen, contemplating how you would scape when it was so cold outside and Quinn’s already seen you so—

“Y/n? Are you playing hide and seek?”

You immediately get out of your sister’s clothes and smile awkwardly, almost opening the front door and standing in the middle of the road, waiting for someone to run you over.

“No, I—” you stutter, looking everywhere but him. “I was just… talking to my sister…”

“I see,” he says. “Is she okay? It’s snowing outside, and you’re still shivering.”

How the hell did he notice that?, you ask yourself, before nodding.

“She is, yeah. She’s working.”

You step further inside the house, walking past Quinn like he’s some type of virus. Besides the huge tree sitting in the corner by the TV, your sister’s house is poorly decorated, just like you predicted, so at least you’ll have something to busy yourself with until she arrives.

“She told me she’d work until late and she said I could come and help you out with your decorations until she and Luke arrive.” He explains, and you turn around, raising your eyebrow at him, confused.

“Luke’s coming?” You ask.

“He is, yes.”

“I thought… I thought you guys would spend Christmas with your parents.” You say, because that’s what you heard your sister saying.

“Well, they’re coming too,” he chuckles, putting his hand inside his front pockets. “I’m guessing she didn’t tell you anything?”

“No, I thought—” you start, but then you bite your lips, giving up mid-sentence. You didn’t want to sound rude by saying I thought it’d be the two of us only so you just stay quiet. “Nevermind. It’s nice that you all get to spend Christmas together.”

Quinn stares at you for a few seconds before nodding. “I’m sorry if you’re upset.”

You frown, shaking your head.

“I’m not, I promise. I just wasn’t expecting all of you,” you reply, embarrassed. “I brought my Grinch sweater…”

He laughs, and you have to stop yourself from smiling too.

“It’s okay. I’ll wear my Cindy Lou one.”

You want to yell at him and tell him to stop being nice, but you already know that’s just how he is. That’s one of the reasons you like him so much.

You look outside your sister’s big window and frown, noticing that the snow is only falling faster, and the street is white everywhere now. Even your car is barely visible.

“It’s getting ugly,” you say, pressing your lips into a line. “I hope it stops soon.”

“I don’t know about that…” he comments, sitting on the couch next to your bags. “I did see a blizzard warning in my weather app today.”

“What?” you almost shout. “Are you sure it was for today?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “That’s why I came earlier. I thought it was dangerous for you to stay here alone.”

You want to ask him what one thing has to do with the other but you’re too busy blushing over his sentence to do anything else.

“I’d be just fine, but thank you,” you mumble. Sighing, you look down at your clothes. “I’m going to change and then start decorating.” You announce, not even sure why.

“You should probably put on something warmer,” he looks down at your clothes before running his fingers through his hair. “It’d be a shame if you caught a cold.”

You don’t say anything, just nod and make your way to your sister’s bedroom, happy that you’re both the same size. Once you find a comfort, two piece set wool outfit, you grab it and change, immediately welcoming the warmth it brings.

You also spend more time in your sister’s bedroom than you should, sitting on her bed and contemplating what you should do.

It’s not like Quinn’s a bad person or someone difficult to be around, but you get shy really easily and he happens to master the art of making you embarrassed, even if it’s not in a bad way.

He’s probably not even aware of it, too, because he’s just a really kind person and that’s just how he treats everyone he likes.

He doesn’t like us, your brain reminds you, he’s just polite.

Whatever.

You get back to the living room and find him still sitting on the couch, watching some random, Christmas movie. You reach for your bags, trying to open them as silently as you could, not wanting to disturb him.

You remove the plastic boxes full of ornaments and distribute them around you, separating them by color and size. It’s therapeutic to you, and it helps to calm your brain down.

Soon, the fact that Quinn’s in the same room as you, alone, doesn’t even cross your mind. You’re having fun decorating your sister’s empty tree, making it beautifully decorated and ready for the night.

After what’s probably thirty minutes, you reach for the last item inside your boxes, which is a bright, yellow star, heavily bedazzled. It’s been yours since you and your sister moved out of your parents’ house and you love it more than all of your other Christmas decorations combined.

The only issue is that it should sit on top of the tree, and usually it wouldn’t be a problem, because your sister had been letting you decorate her tiny tree for the past years, and you’ve been able to reach it just fine. But this year she decided that she wanted to challenge you and she bought a tall one, so now you can’t really reach the top, and you only realize it after jumping for a few minutes and not even touching the top once.

“Do you need any help?”

Quinn’s calm voice startles you, and you hold back a scream. You had forgotten that he was sitting just behind you, and probably had been watching you embarrassing yourself for the past three minutes.

You’re feeling your cheeks warm when you answer: “No, I… well. Maybe?”

He chuckles, getting up. “Does your sister have a ladder?”

“No, she doesn’t,” you roll your eyes. “She says someone as tall as her should do just fine without one.”

“I don’t understand,” he laughs. “She’s just a few inches taller than you. There’s barely a difference.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” You say, annoyed. “I can just grab a chair—”

“No, let me help you.” He walks towards you, and when you’re just about to tell him he’s not going to reach the top by himself either he does something that sends you to another world.

He picks you up effortlessly, putting you down on his left shoulder, and hands you the star like he wasn’t holding another human on one of his shoulders.

You put the star on the top of the tree, moving automatically because your brain hasn't been working properly ever since you stepped into your sister’s house.

“Are you done?” he asks, and he doesn’t even sound tired. “Do you need me to hand you anything else or—”

“No, you can… put me down, please.” You mumble, blushing as he grabs your waist and slowly pulls you down until your feet are touching the floor.

He’s standing behind you, chest glued to your back, and you hold back a yelp, stepping away like his touch is deadly.

“Uh, thanks?” It sounds like a question, but you don’t repeat it again. You turn around, watching as he smiles and nods.

“It looks great, Y/n.”

You also smile, because you always do it whenever people compliment your decorations skills. “Thanks. Again.”

“Well,” he shrugs, looking around. “What do you want to do now?”

You mimic his move, looking around your sister’s living room.

“I mean, I don’t know,” you hum. “Maybe set the table? I know it’s early but—”

“Yeah. We can definitely do that.” He starts walking towards the kitchen and you freak out.

“What!” you yell, and he stops, turning back around and looking at you with confused, pretty eyes. “I mean— what do you mean we?”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I thought I could help.”

“Are you… like… serious?” You frown.

He frowns back. “I was, yes… are you one of those people who don’t like when people try to help because you’re afraid they’ll end up messing up with your arrangements?”

“Well, yes and no,” you laugh, only to shake your head after. “But it’s not that. I’m sorry, I just… I’ve never seen a man get up to help before. Especially during Christmas.”

He seems to take a while to process what you had just said, but then he laughs, beautifully you’d say.

“They weren’t raised by Ellen Hughes, Y/n. I was.”

You smile, realizing you were utterly fucked. And not in a good way.

You and Quinn worked in silence, and even though you almost dropped the plates twice with how nervous you were, this moment will probably keep repeating itself forever inside your head, from the moment you wake up to the moment you'll go to sleep.

He’s calm and he listens to each one of your orders without hesitation, just nodding and doing as you say. He carries the heavy stuff and just lets you busy yourself with making everything pretty, which you do.

You’re about to tell him that you’re done when the TV catches your attention.

“Good evening, and Merry Christmas Eve, everyone. This is Nicholas Edwards reporting live with an urgent weather alert. It’s shaping up to be a Christmas Eve like no other—because we are in the midst of a blizzard that shows no signs of letting up anytime soon.”

“Oh my God,” you hear someone saying, and realize that it was you. You move until you’re standing in front of the TV, covering your mouth with your right hand.

“Right now, snow is coming down at an incredible rate, with visibility dropping rapidly. Winds are gusting up to 40 miles per hour, creating near whiteout conditions in many areas. And the latest forecast? The snow isn’t expected to stop until early tomorrow morning—Christmas Day! That means we’re looking at significant snowfall totals, possibly more than 18 inches in some spots.”

“Oh my God,” you repeat, looking at Quinn before looking back at the TV again.

“Officials are urging everyone to stay indoors tonight. If you don’t absolutely need to be out, don’t risk it. Roads are treacherous, power outages are a real possibility, and emergency crews are working hard to keep up.”

“What about my sister and your family?” you ask, almost rhetorically, because you know Quinn knows just as much as you. “They can’t come now because it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll try to call my parents,” he says, reaching for his phone already. “Can you call your sister, please?”

“Already doing it.” You say, dialing your sister’s number.

“So… you saw the news.” Is the first thing she says after picking up and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, Quinn and I did,” you say. “What are we going to do? It’s not safe for you to drive around and you’re definitely not driving thirty minutes back to your house in this weather.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs. “Luke and I are together, though. He saw the news before I did and drove me to his and Jack’s apartment since it’s closer to my workplace…”

“So, you’ll stay at their place?” You frown.

“What else can I do, right?” she chuckles, but you can tell she’s just as upset as you. “At least you’re stuck with the sibling that knows how to cook.”

“Hey!” You hear one of Quinn’s brothers, probably Jack, yelling in the back.

“You’re probably right,” you mumble. “Well. We’ll see each other tomorrow then?”

“‘Course we will, bubba,” she sounds joyful again. “Merry Christmas, Y/n. I love you. Tell Quinn I said Merry Christmas to him too!”

“I will,” you nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

You stare at your phone screen until it turns black, and sigh. Quinn finishes his phone call and stares at you, blue, fond eyes looking at you with care.

“I guess you heard the same thing as me.” He says and you nod.

“They’re not coming.”

“And neither are my parents,” he sighs. “They’re stuck in their hotel. They’re not letting people leave.”

“God, this sucks,” you grunt, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “We don’t even have food. My sister was supposed to pick it up after she finished her shift but…”

“I’m sure I can figure something out,” Quinn says and you can tell he’s trying to sound positive. “Come on, stop pouting.”

You frown. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Yes, you were,” he smiles. “You do that whenever something doesn’t go your way.”

“I— how do you even know that?” You ask, genuinely amused. He just shrugs and walks back to the kitchen, leaving you and your one hundred thoughts about him alone. “Quinn!”

Dinner goes well. It’s silent and calm, but not in an embarrassing, awkward way. Quinn knows how to cook really well, and his food makes you hold yourself back so you won’t kiss him.

His lips probably taste amazing, just like the rest of him. Sometimes, when your thoughts about how Quinn could make you feel good are too much, you slip your hands under your covers and touch yourself, while imagining your hands are his.

You always feel so deeply embarrassed afterwards, and it takes you a while to convince yourself that you’re not a maniac and getting horny after thinking of your sister’s boyfriend's incredibly hot brother is lowkey expected, because he looks like a God.

You both returned to your bedrooms after the clock hit midnight and you both called your families, with you sleeping in your sister’s room and Quinn sleeping in the spare bedroom.

Although, you haven’t even thought about closing your eyes and going to sleep, because you know you won’t be able to— not when Quinn has been nothing but kind to you the entire night and definitely not when he’s only two doors away from you.

You can feel your body starting to get hot, and you want to shout at it, telling yourself to let it go, because you and Quinn won’t ever be a thing.

You look at the clock sitting on your sister’s bedside table and sigh, reading the late hours. Two thirty-six a.m. and you’re nowhere near Dreamland.

Even though you’re basically at the entrance of Hornyland.

Shaking your head, you get up, deciding to brew some chamomile tea for you, since it always helps you feel sleepier and, hopefully, less horny.

The lukewarm air hits your bare thighs and you’re reminded that you’re not wearing any pants— just one of your sister’s oversized sweaters and panties.

You look around the dark house, watching as snow continues to fall outside, and make your way to the kitchen, walking past Quinn’s closed door and trying not to make any sound.

And you would’ve been successful with your task, if it weren’t for the one plastic cup that fell out of the cupboard when you tried to grab your sister’s kettle.

It fell on the floor and bounced three times before you managed to grab it again. You waited to see if you would hear Quinn’s door open, but since you didn’t, you moved on with your task. While you waited for your water to boil, you leaned against your sister’s island, resting your chin in your hand.

“I thought you were asleep.”

This time, you don’t hold back the yelp that comes out of your mouth. You were so worried about waking Quinn up that you hadn’t considered the fact that he, just like you, might as well not have been able to sleep.

He’s sitting on your sister’s couch, wearing sweatpants and nothing else, looking at you with an indecipherable expression. His entire body is illuminated by the moonlight, and he looks gorgeous.

“Quinn. You scared me,” you put your hand over your heart, feeling your cheeks warm when you realize the movement made your sweater go up, and now Quinn probably saw your underwear. “Uh—”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he gets up, and he does look apologetic. He gets closer to where you were standing and you can help but take a take back. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “No. You?”

“I can’t either,” he says. “Too many thoughts.”

You desperately want to ask him what kind of thoughts are keeping him away from his bed, but you remember that it isn’t your place. And the best thing you can do for yourself right now is stay away from him.

“I— I’ll leave you to it then—”

“Why are you always running away from me?”

His serious tone makes you stop. You look up and stare at his eyes, looking like a child who had just been caught eating sweets before dinner.

Your answer is only natural: “I’m not?”

“Yes, you are,” he steps closer, and the distance between the two of you is now shorter. “Did I do something?”

“What?” you gasp. “No, of course not!”

“Then, you just don’t like me?”

“Gosh, why is it with the Hughes that you’re always so straightforward?” you mumble, frustrated. “I promise you, nothing’s wrong.”

“Is it because you want me to fuck you?” He raises his brow and you almost drop dead in front of him.

“What.”

It’s almost comical how your eyes double in size and how your mouth opens, just like in the cartoons. You’re trying really hard not to pack your things and leave, because you’re sure something possessed Quinn.

“I’m not dumb, y’know,” he starts. “I can tell when someone’s interested in me, and you aren’t exactly subtle.”

“Quinn—”

“At first,” he continues, paying you no mind. “I thought you were just shy. Then, I realized you only acted that way with me, but I thought you just didn’t like me. But…”

He lifts his hand up and caresses your cheek, the touch making you shiver instantly.

“Would someone who doesn’t like me stare at me like you do?” He keeps touching your face, the light feather touches barely there, but keeping you restless anyway. “It’s so sweet when you blush like that.”

“Quinn…” you try, once again. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I—”

“Uncomfortable?” he chuckles, like the word alone is enough to make him laugh. “No, sweetheart, you made me hard.”

You blush, thankful that the moonlight isn’t enough to show your red cheeks. “O-Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” he smiles, lifting your face just slightly with his thumb on your chin. “Can I kiss you, Y/n?”

I thought you’d never ask, you think. “Yes,” is what you say.

His lips taste like peppermint and his touch on your skin feels like fire. He presses your body against the counter, the cold marble hitting the back of your naked thighs and making you shiver.

It was a pleasant contrast, though: the warmth of his hands holding you close with the coldness of the stone making you shiver.

He kissed you fervently and you moaned inside his mouth, forgetting your shyness and running your fingers through his silky, soft hair. It was like opening presents on Christmas morning, because ever since you were a teenager you’ve been wanting to get your hands on him and now—

“You were right,” you say, breathless. Quinn tilts his head to the side, confused. “I want you to f-fuck me.”

He smirks, mischievously, and it’s probably one of the hottest things you have ever seen.

“Here?” he asks, chuckling.

“No,” you laugh. “My sister would kill me.”

“Mhm.” It’s all he says before picking you up once again, manhandling you however he wanted for the second time in less than twenty-four hours.

His bed is untouched when he lays you on it, a clear signal that he hadn’t even laid on it yet. Your sweater rode up, leaving your belly and your panties exposed.

Even though you’re not the type of girl to get embarrassed while having sex, you can feel your cheeks getting warm under Quinn’s lustful gaze. You have imagined this situation so many times before but you never actually thought your dreams would come true, so all of this is still hard for you to take in.

“I can actually hear your brain thinking, Y/n,” Quinn chuckles, standing in front of you. The outline of his dick is so noticeable it has your mouth dry.

“It’s not everyday your crush of years take you to bed,” you let out, only realising what you had just said when you watch his eyebrow going up, and a malicious smile decorate his beautiful face. “I mean—”

“Trust me, Y/n, if I hadn’t spent the last year thinking you hated me, you would’ve ended up in my bed from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

He leans forward, then starts to pull your panties down. It’s embarrassing to say the least because you know that the fabric which was once pearly, cotton white, is now transparent and ruined. Quinn doesn’t seem to mind that— in fact, the smirk on his face just continues to grow.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, and you almost choke on your own spit. “Been thinking about you for so long I’m half convinced this is just another dream.”

He drops your underwear somewhere, and places his index finger between your wet folds, the cold touch contrasting with your hotness. He rubs, up and down, slowly and steady. It has you biting your lips, hard.

“Was it like that with you too, Y/n?” he asks, tone one octave deeper. “Endless dreams of how I would fuck you senseless, leave you wet and whimpering in my sheets, pussy dripping with my cum.”

He kept getting closer to your clit each time he opened his mouth to talk, but he still wasn’t touching it, which was starting to frustrate you.

“Quinn—”

“I’d always wake up hard, with my dick throbbing inside my pants, and you know what I’d do?”

He places his finger on your engorged clit, but doesn’t do anything, just— waits.

“Ask me what I would do, Y/n.” He orders, and you moan before complying.

“What, ah, what would you do?” you ask, and he starts moving his finger again. “Ah.”

“I’d fuck my hand. Wrap my dick around them, holding it tightly, imagining it was your cunt squeezing me like that,” he confesses, opening your legs more, leaving you spread in front of him like you’re nothing but a cheap whore. “And I’d come so hard, imagining I was filling you up. In the next morning, I’d shake hands with you, watching you give me that sweet smile of yours, not even knowing that I had just used it to touch myself while imagining it was you.”

He pressed two fingers on your hole, making you clench around nothing while he seemed to be having fun with your struggle.

“Was it like that with you, too?” he asks again, but you can tell by his reaction that he wasn’t expecting you to answer. Yet, you do it anyway.

“N-not dreams,” you breathe, as he inserts two of his fingers inside you, blue eyes never leaving yours. “When I couldn’t sleep, I’d, ah, touch myself, and pretend it was you.”

“Yeah?” he hums, sinking his fingers deeper inside you, the wet sound of sex leaving you dizzy. “Such a naughty, little slut.”

You moan, and Quinn stops holding back as he starts finger fucking you, finding your sweet spot and curling his fingers up until he had you trashing under him. You took pride in knowing your body and mastering the art of touching yourself, but not even in your wildest dreams you’d imagine that having something inside you could feel this good.

You’re not even holding back your sounds, you just let Quinn hear how insane he drives you, and good you’re feeling. You have your eyes closed— because holding eye contact with Quinn might be too much for you to handle— and your boobs exposed, since your sweater rode all the way up.

You can feel your orgasm starting to build up and just when you’re about to warn Quinn about it, he pulls his fingers back, making you cry, loudly.

“Wha— why?” you sound needy and desperate but you pay it no mind.

Quinn smiles, so sweet and kind that you wouldn’t even imagine what came out of his mouth afterwards.

“You’ll come on my cock tonight, sweetheart. I’ll make sure of it.”

The rest of what happens is basically history.

He removes his sweatpants and his dick hits his stomach, the tip almost purple with how red it was. The precum leaking from it made you lick your lips, imagining how good it would feel to have that in your mouth.

He throws the pants somewhere, and lays on top of you, right in the middle of your spread thighs. He looks down and holds his dick, rubbing it up and down on your folds, mixing your wetness with his, and just the view is almost enough to make you come.

He rubs the tip on your clit, and you watch as your swollen, needy button throbs under the nasty touch, and how your pussy leaves his dick glistening with how wet you were.

“I’ll fuck you now, okay?” His voice is calm, and soft, different from previously. You nod, smiling shyly. “Words, baby.”

“‘Mkay,” you answer, closing your eyes as he inserts himself inside you, slowly.

You can feel your walls opening up for him, and even though you’ve had sex before, nothing will ever top this. He’s thick, and you can feel him everywhere, deeper and deeper.

“Holy shit, Quinn,” you say, turning your hands into fists.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he hisses, putting his hands on each side of your face. “Squeezing me so good, fuck, Y/n, I might come in seconds if you keep squeezing me like that.”

He removes his dick from you, leaving just the tip, only to slam it back in you, fucking you senseless, just like he told you. The smell of sex and sweat filled the room almost as quick as the tears fell from your eyes, the feeling of finally getting what— or who— you wanted making you cry tears of joy.

He kept fucking you, and once his lips found yours once again, you knew you were done. You came on his dick, like he said you’d do, moaning inside his mouth and pulling his hair, harshly.

“Fuck, Quinn, uh,” you inhaled his scent as his naked body engulfed yours completely. “Fuck, fuck.”

“It’s like you were made to, uh, take my cock,” he grunts, his thrusts getting sloppier, a clear sign that he was about to come. “Say it, baby, tell me what you were made for.”

“Quinn—”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he whispers.

“I was made to take y-your cock,” you sob. “O-only yours.”

“Only mine?” you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Only yours.”

“Good,” thrust, “Girl.” Thrust.

He takes his dick out of you just a few seconds before he comes, and the loss of it makes you whimper and hide your face in his neck. The warm feeling of his come against your used, swollen cunt is enough to get another orgasm out of you, even if a little bit weaker this time.

You both stay silent, only the sounds of your breaths filling up the room. The weight of his body on top of you is comforting, and even though you know he’s not putting all of his weight on top of you, you feel safe either way.

“Thank you,” you mumble, barely audible, since your face is still in his neck.

He chuckles, breathless. “What are you saying thank you for, baby? I should be the one saying thank you.”

“You just made all of my wet dreams come true,” you explain. “Even if we’re probably going to hell because no one should be having sex on Christmas.”

Quinn laughs and rolls to the side, resting his head on the pillow. “Touché, sweetheart, touché,” he turns his head to the side and looks at you. “Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Quinny.”

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist.

[isaadore]

STITCHES QUINN HUGHES

pairing quinn hughes x doctor!reader

SUMMARY when quinn suffers a shoulder injury, he’s forced to work with you. word count 1.2k words

warnings mentions of injury and physical pain, workplace romance, teasing, forced proximity (?), fluff

note first quinn fic in a while!! (even tho it's a bit on the shorter side 😞) missed writing for him

MAIN MASTERLIST QH43 MASTERLIST

THE CROWD CHEERED as the Canucks’ focused, ready to take back the lead. You watched from the medical bay, eyes following the puck and scanning for any signs of injury. As the new head of the medical team, this season was a make-or-break for you, and you knew you had to prove yourself capable of handling any situation under pressure.

Then, it happened.

A bone-jarring hit echoed through the rink. Your eyes shot up to the screen just in time to see Quinn Hughes take a brutal check into the boards, twisting in a way that made your stomach lurch. He went down hard, clutching his shoulder. The team’s medical staff rushed onto the ice and helped him off, and a few moments later, he was hobbling into the treatment room, face pale and pained, still gripping his shoulder.

He sat down, wincing as he did so, and looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours. He offered a slight nod, even managing a tight smile. “Guess it was just a matter of time, huh?”

You returned his smile, feeling sympathetic. “Seems like it, but let’s see what’s going on.”

You placed an ice pack over his shoulder, trying to ease some of the swelling. “I’ll start with a few checks to see what kind of injury we’re dealing with. Let me know if it hurts too much.”

He gave a small nod. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Carefully, you guided his arm, checking his shoulder’s movement. He was trying to play it off, but you could see his face tighten in pain. “Quinn, don’t push through it,” you said gently but firmly. “If it hurts, I need to know.”

He let out a shaky breath. “All right… yeah, it hurts a lot more than I thought it would.”

“Thank you for being honest,” you replied, moving his arm back to a resting position. “For now, let’s get a scan to see what’s really going on. My guess is you’ll need some time off the ice to heal, maybe a few weeks.”

His expression fell, and he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze dropping to the floor. “That long?”

You nodded, keeping your tone reassuring. “It’s tough, but this is about protecting your long-term health. We’ll take it step by step.”

He nodded, visibly frustrated. “Can’t say I’m thrilled, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

The next morning, Quinn showed up for his first official rehab session. He wore a hoodie, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his posture closed off and frustrated. You recognized the look; a mix of vulnerability and irritation. Being benched was the last thing any player wanted.

“Ready to get started?” you asked, offering a gentle smile.

He shrugged, though his attempt to hide his irritation was clear. “I don’t know if I’d say ready, but I’m here.”

You chuckled, leading him through an outline of the exercises. “Today’s going to be mostly small movement work. It might seem light, but this is where it all begins.”

You guided him through gentle exercises, keeping it easy to help him regain strength in his shoulder. He followed along, sometimes gritting his teeth when it hurt, and you noticed him stealing glances your way when he thought you weren’t looking. He’d fidget whenever your hands brushed his shoulder or arm, you could see he trying to distract himself from the pain.

After the session, you began to reorganize the room. He leaned against a table, watching you. “So, how’d you end up working with a bunch of stubborn hockey players?”

You laughed, glancing at him. “Guess I like a challenge.”

He grinned, looking amused. “Well, you found one. We’re all terrible patients.”

“I’m beginning to see that,” you teased, crossing your arms as you met his gaze. “But I don’t mind it.”

Over the following weeks, Quinn’s rehab sessions became a regular part of your day. You fell into a rhythm together, moving through the exercises, slowly adding tougher movements as his shoulder improved. Sometimes you talked about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company. He’d walk in a little more relaxed each day, his mood visibly lifting.

One morning, after a particularly tough session, he sat back, wiping sweat from his brow. “I don’t know how you put up with me,” he said, half-joking. “I’m probably driving you nuts.”

You leaned against the table beside him, crossing your arms. “Honestly? You’re one of my better patients. Some guys complain non-stop.”

“Guess I’m saving that part for later,” he replied, smirking. Then he paused, his smile fading a bit. ��But seriously… thank you. You make this bearable.”

Your gaze softened. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s hard to be off the ice, but I’m here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you. “I can tell you actually mean that.” His voice was quiet, almost as if he were afraid of ruining the moment. “Most people just want to get us back on the ice as fast as possible for the pay. But you’re different.”

Your cheeks warmed at the sincerity in his words. “I care about what I do. And it’s easy to care for passionate people.”

His expression softened, and he looked at you, something in his gaze you couldn’t quite place. “Maybe you can remind me next time I’m feeling sorry for myself.”

“Deal,” you replied, smiling. “But you owe me for all this extra therapy.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk appearing on his face. “Are you saying I’m high maintenance?”

“I’m saying that you’re lucky I’m patient,” you shot back, feeling a strange, excited flutter in your chest. His playful expression softened, and his eyes focused intently on you.

“I’ll remember that,” he said quietly, his gaze holding yours a little longer than necessary.

One evening, after the facility had mostly emptied, you were finishing up some paperwork when you heard footsteps approaching. You looked up, surprised to see Quinn lingering in the doorway, looking as though he’d been debating whether or not to come in.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting down your pen.

“Didn’t expect you to be here this late either,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Do you ever stop working?”

You smiled. “Not when I’m invested in a patient’s progress. And you, Quinn, are making a lot of progress.”

He stepped further into the room, a hesitant smile on his face. “That’s good to hear. And I guess part of me wanted to say thanks. For everything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already thanked me a hundred times.”

“I know. But…” He looked down, gathering his thoughts. “This isn’t easy for me. Not being on the ice, not doing what I love. But you make it easier.”

The air felt thick, and his gaze met yours, soft and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. You felt your pulse quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you said, “Maybe when you’re cleared, we can celebrate with a coffee; you owe me after all.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, but it quickly melted into a warm smile. “I’d like that. More than you know.”

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ QH43 MASTERLIST

[amourquinn]

( drabble ) imperfect for you

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 800+

genre : fluff and angst warnings : quinn feeling insecure

summary : quinn comes back home after a tough loss

quinn hughes was quiet when he stepped through the door of your shared apartment. the soft click of the door shutting seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness of the room. you sat curled up on the couch, wearing one of his oversized hoodies, waiting for him. you hadn’t heard from him since the game ended, but the look on his face when he walked in told you everything you needed to know:

the canucks had lost.

his usually bright eyes were dull, his shoulders slumped under the weight of disappointment. he dropped his hockey bag by the door, the sound of it hitting the floor making you wince. he didn’t even bother to take off his shoes before trudging toward the kitchen.

you bit your lip, unsure of how to approach him. quinn wasn’t the type to lash out after a loss, but you knew he internalized every mistake, every missed opportunity. he’d probably already gone through the game in his head a dozen times, dissecting every shift. it broke your heart to see him like this, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“hey,” you called softly, rising from the couch and padding toward him. he was leaning against the counter, his hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

“hey,” he replied, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

you stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say. the silence stretched between you like a chasm, and you hated it. quinn deserved to feel whatever he was feeling, but you couldn’t just stand by and watch him drown in it.

“i made your favorite,” you said tentatively, motioning toward the table where a plate of pasta sat waiting. “figured you might need some comfort food.”

he glanced at the plate, his lips twitching into the barest hint of a smile. “thanks,” he murmured, but he didn’t move.

you stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. his body tensed at first, but then he relaxed into your embrace, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder.

“i’m sorry, quinn,” you whispered, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. “i know how much you wanted to win.”

“it’s not just that,” he admitted, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “i feel like i let everyone down. the team, the fans… you.”

you pulled back just enough to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “quinn, stop. you didn’t let me down. you could never let me down.”

his eyes searched yours, vulnerable and unsure, like he was trying to believe you but didn’t quite know how.

“you’re so hard on yourself,” you continued, your thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. “but you’re not alone in this. it’s okay to be upset, but don’t let it consume you. you’re still the same guy i love, whether you win or lose.”

his breath hitched at your words, and he pulled you back into his arms, holding you tighter this time. “i don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

“stop that,” you scolded gently, though your heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice. “i’m here because i love you, quinn. wins, losses, and everything in between.”

for a while, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other like you were the only solid thing in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control. eventually, you coaxed him to sit down at the table, and he reluctantly started eating the pasta you’d made. you sat across from him, keeping the conversation light, telling him about your day, anything to distract him from the heaviness in his chest.

by the time he’d finished eating, some of the tension had eased from his shoulders. he leaned back in his chair, watching you with an expression that was softer now, less burdened.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

“i try,” you teased, grinning at him. “but seriously, quinn, you don’t have to carry everything on your own. i’m here for you, always.”

he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. his fingers were calloused and warm, and the way he held onto you felt like an unspoken promise.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he said quietly.

“you’ll never have to find out,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

later, as you curled up together on the couch, his head resting in your lap, you ran your fingers through his hair, soothing him like you always did when he was stressed. the room was quiet except for the faint hum of the tv in the background, and for the first time that night, quinn looked at peace.

“i love you,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut.

“i love you too,” you replied, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

and in that moment, with quinn safe in your arms, the weight of the loss didn’t seem quite so heavy anymore.

© amourquinn

[43qh]

is this forever? (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: unprotected sex, soft and sweet!

word count: 2.4k

summary: love is so many different things.

love is a consumption.

you’re convinced it consumes you more than anything else. when you look at quinn, there’s nothing left in your body but love for him. when he has those distressed eyes, you make sure to clear them up. the crinkle in his forehead disappears around you.

when it came to offseason, quinn couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off of you. he was victim to the way you felt in his arms. he considered nothing more perfect.

with you below him, undressed, all for his taking. he couldn’t contain himself. your moans were a calling for him to keep going. each thrust making him sweat a little bit more. buried deep inside you like he was made for you. like you were made for him.

he whispers softly in your ear, “feels so much better than my hand.” he huffs when you clench around him. he wants to savor this moment. “you’re so tight, so warm.”

the sounds you make is music to his ears. it sounds like love to him. quinn was a love maker, you knew that all too well. there were times when he got a bit rough, no complaining on your end. but he was made for this kind of intimacy.

quinn was a lover.

quinn was your lover.

his thrusts were slow, deep. his breaths were uneven at the feeling of you wrapped around him. you could hear the occasional groan and whimper come from him when you clawed at his back a little harder, or when you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him closer. he can’t stop from falling to his elbows at the sensation, falling weak to you.

he groans in your ear, listening to your moans like they’re prayers. “close?” he was out of breath, unable to form a full sentence.

you nod, sweat collecting at the brim of your forehead, “yes, yes, quinn.”

quinn can’t stop his hips from picking up pace at the declaration. he lives for the way you moan his name, the tightening in his chest driving him crazy.

when you cum around his cock, it feels like a chain reaction. he can’t stop the way he cums with you, the way he fills you up to the brim with belated breaths.

the air felt hot and heavy as the both of you calm down, hearts beating in sync like the two of you were one person.

“i love you.” he looks over at you, tilting his head and kissing your cheek.

you hum, “i love you, quinn.”

he kisses your shoulder, “let’s clean up.”

love is time consuming.

not in a bad way.

your thoughts sway back and forth to quinn in everything you do. you make coffee, and the way he likes his coffee comes forth. when he’s gone, you think of how warm he feels laying next to you. you iron his clothes and think about how he looks inside them.

when you hear your phone ring, you know it’s quinn. no one else calls you so consistently the way he does.

“beautiful,” he greets, his voice a little rugged.

“handsome,” you greet back, a smile on your face. you clutch your phone a little tighter in anticipation as he continues on about his day and what he had accomplished. it was routinely when he wasn’t home. it was enough for you.

you could see the furrow in his brows in your mind. the way his lips looked when he talked. the way he would lick them in between sentences. the way he would try to stretch his back.

maybe you knew his habits all too well.

“i can’t wait to come home.” he huffs, and you hear him laying back on a bed.

you sit on the living room couch of your shared house, “i can’t wait either.”

you knew quinn was smiling, “i love you, gorgeous.” his voice grew softer.

you closed your eyes and just listened, “i love you too, quinny.”

he grunts at the nickname, but says nothing about it. there’s a long pause between the two of you. as if you were both just enjoying the company of one another, even if it was over the phone.

you open your eyes and look at the time, realizing just how late it must be for him. “you should sleep.”

quinn huffs, “miss you.”

you smile and bite your lip, “i miss you, too. but i’ll be here tomorrow.”

quinn can’t stop the smile that droops on his sleepy features, “promise?”

“promise.”

“goodnight then, angel.” he yawns.

you smile again, “goodnight, quinn.”

the hang up feels dreadful, but your mind is consumed with the way he talked to you for the rest of the night.

his voice, the way you imagined him sprawled on the bed, his soft words.

quinn will always be on your mind. time and time again.

love is beautiful.

quinn wasn’t the type for slow dancing. but when it was just the two of you, dancing alone to the faint sound of a love song, he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled from the feeling of you in his arms.

love songs reminded him of you. you looked so graceful, a small smile playing on your face as you look at him. he feels the way your hands clasp tighter around his neck, and he smiles back.

his hands rest lovingly along your waist, swaying the two of you back and forth and around the room. quinn wouldn’t do this for anyone else. you had him in your grip tighter than you thought.

“you’re a good dancer,” you state, tilting your head in curiosity.

he loves the way your eyes shine under the faint light of the lamp in the room, “you’re better.”

quinn spins you around before pulling you flush against him. your chest pressed against his, breaths labored as he stops for a second to admire you.

you’re both in pajamas, and you want to think about how ridiculous this must look, but you honestly didn’t care. the way quinn was looking at you felt like you were the most beautiful woman on earth. and he believed that.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, starting to sway again, but never loosening his hold on you.

you lick your lips, eyes curious and wide, “so are you.”

quinn grins at the side of his mouth, noticing how nervous you were from the close contact. he loved how he could still bring out these kinds of reactions from you, even after being together for almost two years. he would be lying to himself if you didn’t make him react the same way. he can feel the shivers down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair in a soft, loving way.

quinn can’t stop himself from kissing you. his lips move in a languid way that makes your skin light up in a blaze. you almost feel hot, his fingers grasping at your waist with more fervor.

he loves the way you moan in his mouth, the sound vibrating through his body and making him deepen the kiss. he couldn’t resist you even if he tried.

at this point, the dancing has come to a full halt. the two of you more focused on feeling one another. you tug on his hair a bit, making him groan and pull away with wet lips.

“couldn’t resist you,” he gasps, looking at you with a goofy smile.

you giggle softly, and quinn can feel the way his heart picks up at the sound, “i couldn’t either.”

quinn could live this way forever.

love is patience.

quinn huffs as he slowly slides inside of you. and you lick your lips, looking up at him with a gorgeous glint in your eyes. it would be so romantic if only he didn’t want to completely ruin you. make a mess of your makeup.

you look at him with deer eyes, bright and wide. he lets out a small groan, eyes turning lidded at the sight of you as he bottoms out inside you. he patiently waits for you to adjust, basking in your glory. watching the way sweat starts to form on your forehead. he smiles to himself at the way he can get you so worked up with such little effort. you were truly made for him.

“tell me to move,” he says it in more of a question than a statement. you nod your head, signaling for him to move. he can’t help himself from pulling back to where only the tip of his cock sits inside you, before slamming back into you. the gasp that leaves your lips is worth it.

he sighs, leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder, earning a whine as a prize. he can hear you perfectly in this angle. your moans and gasps going straight into his ear. he closes his eyes in a flurry of bliss. the way you tighten around him as he slowly rocks his hips against your own makes him go almost mad.

he can’t stop the way his hips pick up in pace. he wants to make this last, he wants to listen to you beg for more. his prayers are answered as you whine, “quinn, please, more.” your breaths are shaky and sharp.

quinn licks his own lips, smirking to himself. “wanna make this last, baby.”

you writhe below him, making him groan as he feels the way you tighten up and take him in more. he places a hand on your hip, pushing you back down and tsking at you.

“where’s my good girl, huh?” quinn chastises, making your whines louder and louder. he soaks it in, before finally giving you what you want. he figures you’ve been patient enough. plus he was starting to lose his own patience.

he thrusts into you with feverish pace, making goosebumps form on your skin. “oh, god.”

he smiles, leaning back to look down at you and the way your eyes roll into the back of your head like you’ve seen god. he loves the way you gasp his name, telling him how good he feels. his cock twitches when you tighten up around him even more. his pace is turning brutal and he can no longer help himself.

“atta girl,” he whispers, “take it like a good girl.”

that was your undoing. you couldn’t help it. his voice was a mixture of loving and raspy. it made your inside tingle and your pussy clench around him. your back rises up to his chest as he finishes alongside you, his cum seeping inside you. you gasp one last time, out of breath.

“fuck,” quinn groans.

you smile, hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. “so good.”

quinn smiles in the kiss.

the patience is always worth it.

love is forgiving.

“i told you, quinn. it’s okay.” you look at him with soft eyes. quinn pouts at you.

“you said you wanted to go out to dinner tonight.” he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed.

you shake your head with a smile on your lips, “no, no. i just want to be with you.”

you and quinn had reservations but an emergency came along and he didn’t make it home in time. he was so frustrated with himself, he felt a heavy weight in his chest. that was until you came along and eased his worries.

“i promise, quinn. there are so many more dinners left in our lifetime.” you sit beside him and kiss his cheek. he looks at you with apologetic eyes before kissing you slowly and softly on the lips.

“i don’t deserve you.” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again, raising a hand to your face to pull you closer.

you smile and pull away, looking into his eyes with a sparkle, “other way around, my love.”

he shakes his head, his hair shaking with him. “hush.”

he kisses your lips again, apologies lying within them.

he could never understand how accepting and loving you always were. and little did he know, you thought the same way he did.

love is forever.

quinn rubs his sweaty hands on his pants. he feels the heavy weight of the ring in his pocket. he’s waiting for you to come home. he doesn’t want to waste time the second you walk through the door, but he knows it’s best to wait for good things to come along.

he smiles and kisses you, embracing you in a hug. you exchange the hug, hanging your purse beforehand. you smile at him, nothing out of the ordinary for you.

you look into his eyes and see the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. he looks and sees the same.

you look around and notice that dinner is already prepared for the two of you. you raise and eyebrow, “hm? dinner?”

quinn nods, licking his lips in anticipation, “yeah, thought i’d spoil you.”

you smile and kiss his cheek, “thank you, sweetie.”

he bites back a smile, but you can see it nonetheless. you walk to the table, looking at the array of food. “wow, this must have taken-”

you’re cut off when you turn around to a quinn hughes with one knee on the floor. you gasp, hand raising to your mouth. it felt like something out of a movie. your eyes were welling up with tears.

“my sweet, gorgeous girlfriend,” he starts, “this might sound so cliché, but the moment my eyes laid on your own, i knew you were going to be the one for me. i adored you the second we spoke, and fell in love the first time we kissed. i have many flaws. and i want to be able to share my future with you for the rest of our lives.” he opens the ring box, “will you marry me? make me the happiest man to ever live?”

you just nod, holding out your ring finger as you cry happy tears. you want to respond to everything he has said, but the most you can do is raise him to his feet as fast as possible and kiss him. the ring looks absolutely beautiful on you, shining under the light of the dining room lights.

“yes,” you whisper between kisses, “of course yes, quinn.”

quinn is the luckiest man alive.

quinn is ready for forever. and so are you.

a/n: so sorry for the long wait. and i’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to the anticipation. love you!

[rowdyluv]

needed you - qh43

summary: y/n has an intense fear of storms, particularly the incessantly loud rumbling thunder.

word count: 3.4k

notes: @sweetestdesire request for a a quinny fic. “You’re really scared of some thunder? C’mere.” turned out to be angsty but soft quinn

warnings: use of y/n, tense, angst, may induce stress, soft quinn,

"See ya, guys! Thanks for the fun night in," Y/n called out to her friends as they filed out the door, their laughter and chatter echoing down the hallway. She waved goodbye, feeling a bit relieved that the party had wound down. The quiet was a welcome change from the earlier clamor of games and gossip. The apartment was left in a gentle mess, but the warm glow of friendship lingered in the air.

Y/n stretched while she yawned and began to clean up, her mind wandering to Quinn. She knew he was out with the team, but she had hoped he'd be home sooner. The thought of his strong arms around her, calming her raging thoughts through the impending storm, brought a smile to her face and a bit of ease to the sickness winding in her stomach. As she packed away the last of the snacks, she glanced out the window. The night was still, the moon casting a serene light over the cityscape. She couldn't wait to crawl into bed and cuddle up with him, sharing stories about their respective evenings.

Meanwhile, at the bar, Quinn sat in the middle of a booth between Brock and Petey, his shoulders slumped and his eyes glazed over from the beers. The laughter of his teammates washed over him, but he couldn't find the energy to join in. He checked his phone again, noticing it was already 12:30 AM. He had promised Y/n he'd be home early tonight, but the guys had talked him into a few more drinks. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he never truly goes out so maybe just this once it should be okay to be selfish.

“Huggy put your phone down! We’re here to have fun.” Garland slurs from the other end of the table.

Quinn nodded and slid his phone into his pocket. He knew he had to stop checking it every few minutes. It was getting late and Y/n was probably worried, but he didn’t want to dampen the mood with his own anxieties. He took a deep breath and tried to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the raucous laughter around him. The bass of the music pounded through the bar, making the floor vibrate beneath his feet. It was the kind of music that demanded you to either get up and dance or get lost in the rhythm, and for a brief moment, he let it consume him.

Back at the apartment, Y/n stood in their kitchen with shaking hands, the weather gradually getting worse was setting her nerves on edge. The wind had picked up outside, whipping against the windows like a crazed lover. Rain had started to patter down, a prelude to the storm that had her heart racing. She took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that Quinn was just stuck in traffic or had lost track of time. He'd be home soon, she thought, trying to reassure herself. But the silence of his unanswered texts and calls was deafening.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something to do, anything to distract her from the storm brewing outside and the one building inside her chest. She settled on making a cup of tea, her hands trembling as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. The gentle hiss of the gas flame igniting filled the room, but it did little to calm her nerves. As the water heated, she checked her phone again, willing it to buzz with a message from Quinn. Nothing. The wind howled, and the rain grew heavier, now pounding against the windows.

“Maybe if I call him?” She thought out loud. The clock read 1:10 AM as she dialed the number she knew by heart.

“Hey, you’ve reached Quinn, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” His voice, though much younger and recorded, brought a bit of comfort, but not enough to ease the two storms brewing. The one in her and the one outside. She took a deep breath and began to leave a voicemail, her voice shaky but steady.

“Hey, Quinny, it’s me. Hope you’re having fun with the guys. Uhm just wanted to let you know that the storm is starting to get pretty intense out there... I’m sure you guys are fine and just having a good time. Call me when you get this, okay? I…just mi—want to know you’re okay. I love you, bye!” She hung up before she could say anything else that might betray her fear.

1:30 AM.

The bar was getting louder, the air thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat. Quinn leaned back in the booth, his arms folded tightly across his chest. The music was a cacophony of beats and shouts that didn't quite drown out the thunderous pounding of his own thoughts. His eyes scanned the table, finding his teammates passed out, their heads resting in a pool of spilled drinks and crumbs. He had never felt more out of place, yet he stayed to make sure these morons made it home.

If Quinn knew anything in that moment it was for sure that he’d be getting them back at practice this week.

Back at the apartment, Y/n's trembling grew more pronounced with each passing minute. She couldn't ignore the storm anymore. It had started as a gentle whisper, a hint of rain against the windows, but had escalated into a full-blown symphony of thunder and lightning. Her heart hammered in her chest, each peal of thunder sending shockwaves through her body. She curled up on Quinn's side of the bed, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, the cold screen a stark contrast to her clammy palms. The scent of his cologne still lingered on the pillow, faint but comforting. She buried her face in it, breathing him in, willing him to appear through the door.

‘One more call? No that’s to creepy clingy girlfriendy.. But he likes clingy girlfriendy y/n..’

Her thoughts swirled in a tornado of doubt and fear. Finally, she gave in, hitting the call button with trembling fingers. The line rang once, twice, three times, before she heard his voice, a recorded message that didn’t ease the ache in her chest this time. She took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic from seeping into her voice.

“Quinn, it’s me again. The storm is really bad out here. The lights are flickering, and I’m so scared. I know you’re busy, but I need you. I know you said you’d be home early, and I trusted you. Please, come home soon. I’m not okay without you here with me, especially when it’s like this. I love you so much, and I just want to be safe with you. Call me, text me, anything. I need to know you’re okay. I’m just—I’m really scared, Quinn. I’m sorry, I know I sound desperate, but I can’t help it. I need you right now. Please come home soon. Uhm bye,” she whispered into the void, the weight of her words hanging in the silent apartment like the eye of the storm.

The phone remained eerily silent, the screen a cold, unyielding barrier to the warmth she craved. She sent one more text, a simple heart emoji, and hoped that somehow, it would be enough to break through the barrier holding him hostage from his phone.

With each flash of lightning, the shadows from the windows grew more menacing, reaching in like skeletal fingers to pluck at her already frazzled nerves. Y/n couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed her fleece blanket and bolted from the bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the cool hardwood floor, and dashed into the ensuite bathroom. The only room in the apartment that didn't have windows and hopefully wouldn’t make her feel claustrophobic. The bathroom was a small sanctuary of porcelain and tile, the scent of mint and the hum of the extractor fan a stark contrast to the tempest outside. She locked the door behind her, creating a barrier between her and the storm, but it didn't help. She could still hear the thunder rumbling like a displeased giant, each boom echoing through the walls and reverberating the foundation of the building.

Her phone, now a silent sentinel of her fear, remained in her hand. She checked it again, hoping against hope that she had missed a call or a text. The screen remained dark, cold, and unchanged. Her heart sank, the weight of loneliness pressing down on her chest like a lead blanket. 'Why isn’t he answering?' Her thoughts screamed. She knew he wasn’t the type to ignore her, especially when she was scared. Maybe his phone died, or maybe he was too busy, but the doubt was eating her alive.

Quinn's head snapped up, the sound of his ringtone piercing through the buzz of the bar dwindling down. He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone to see Y/n's name flashing on the screen. He had missed a couple calls and quite a few texts from her, each one more frantic than the last. His heart sank as he saw the time, 2 AM. He quickly stood up, knocking over Petey, who fell into Dak, in his haste. Which worked out in his favor as he had to walk over them. The room filled with fuzzy stars for a moment, a reminder of the drinks he too had consumed. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He wasn’t driving, so he ordered up an Uber home.

As he waited, Quinn felt his stomach twist into knots. He knew how much Y/n hated storms and here he was, leaving her alone to face it. He had promised to be there for her, and now she was probably terrified out of her mind. He scrolled through the texts, each one a silent plea for him to come home. He read the last one, her voice echoing in his mind. "I'm really scared, Quinn." He cringed, feeling like a complete asshole for not being there for her.

The Uber pulled up, and Quinn practically threw himself into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind him. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror, the concern clear in his eyes. "You okay, buddy?"

Quinn nodded, trying to ignore the guilt that clawed at him. He fumbled with his phone, finally managing to play the voicemails. Y/n's voice filled his ear, each word a dagger to his heart. "The storm is really bad out here," she whispered, and he could almost feel the tremble in her voice. "The lights are flickering, and I’m so scared." The sound of her sobs grew louder, the thunder outside seeming to sync with her cries. Quinn wasn’t afraid of much, so he didn’t quite understand his girlfriend’s fear over storms. It could be because she didn’t care to say why she’s scared, and he wasn’t going to press her. It’s evident they bother her, and it’s enough for him to be the support she needs.

Until he’s not.

The bathroom door rattled in its frame as the storm outside reached a crescendo. Lightning flashing under the space between the door and the floor. Y/n had never thought that lightning was the scary part of storms, it has always been the thunder that had driven her to seek refuge in someone, something, someplace. She wasn’t quite sure why the deep, resonating booms always managed to succeed in getting her so worked up.

Maybe when she was younger it was because she had always associated them with crawling in bed with her parents or if the power went out they would gather in the living room to play games in the candle light. Until the day every thing just up and changed. No one was there to help her weather the storm, figuratively or literally.

Maybe now it’s because she has grown accustomed to associating thunderstorms with Quinn's soothing touch and whispers, telling her that everything would be okay. That with him, he would never let anything happen to her. He, who had become her anchor in the storm, was nowhere to be found.

The Uber ride home was a blur of neon lights and puddles reflecting the chaos of the storm. Quinn's mind was racing, his thoughts tangled with guilt and fear for Y/n. He had never been the one to break a promise, especially not one so important to her. He had to get home, had to hold her and tell her it was okay, even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The car pulled up to the apartment complex, and Quinn dashed out into the rain. The cold droplets stung his skin, sobering him up as he sprinted towards the building. The lights in the hallway flickered as he panted up the stairs, the thunder now a constant drumroll in his ears. His hand shook as he inserted the key into the lock, the sound of the tumblers clicking into place echoing through the empty corridor.

He burst into the apartment, the door slamming against the wall. "Y/n!" he called out, his voice strained with worry. The living room was dark, except for the TV screen flickering with a muted news broadcast. Rainwater dripped from his hair, tracing a path down his forehead and into his eyes. He wiped it away, his heart racing as if he had just played a full hockey game. Quinn let out a heavy breath before he hurried upstairs towards their bedroom.

Reaching the bedroom door, he carefully pushed it open. The sight that greeted him was not what he expected. The bed, usually a bastion of order and comfort, was a writhing mess of blankets and pillows. It was clear she had been restless, her fear probably keeping her from finding any semblance of peace. But she wasn’t there. The room was empty except for the ghosts of his guilt and her fear. He flipped on the lights, the sudden brightness piercing the gloom, revealing the chaos of his side of their now empty bed.

Quinn's eyes searched the room, looking for any clue as to where she could be. That’s when he heard it. A muffled sound, faint but unmistakable. Sniffles, coming from the bathroom. He approached the closed door, the thunder outside giving way to the quiet that follows, as if the storm was holding its breath. He placed his hand on the cool wood, feeling the vibration of the storm's power through it. "Y/n?" he called out as softly as possible.

The sniffles grew quieter, almost as if she was trying to control her cries. She stepped out of her place of refuge enough to unlock the door, she then quickly retreated back to her previous position. She was curled up in the bathtub, her knees to her chest, her chin perched on her knees, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

Quinn’s heart broke when he saw her like this. He had never seen her so scared, so vulnerable. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her further. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. But she jerked away from his touch, her body stiff and face showing no emotion.

He dropped to his knees, the one desperate for her attention now.

"Y/n, baby, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I had no idea it was this bad." He took a step closer, the scent of rain and alcohol mingling with the faint minty scent of their bathroom. He wished he could take away her fear, absorb it into himself so she didn't have to feel it anymore.

"You promised me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You promised me, I would never be alone again with no warning, no explanation beforehand. You promised you’d be home early." She choked back a cry on the last part, her eyes glued to the faucet, watching the droplets of water fall into the tub. Quinn shattered into a trillion pieces. He had promised all of that. No apology will be enough to make any of this better, he accepted that, but he had to at least try.

"I know," he began, his voice thick with regret. "I fucked up, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I didn't mean to leave you like this." He paused, willing her to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes that mirrored hers. "You're my entire world, you're everything to me. I'd never want to cause you pain, especially not when you're already scared." He tried reaching for her again, this time to push her hair back and combing his fingers through her hair. He left his hand cradling her head.

"Garland told me to put my phone away," he murmured, his voice low and tight. "And before I knew it, Brock was pretty drunk and Petey was extremely wasted. I had a few myself. The music was so loud that the bass kept me from feeling the vibrations of my phone, and I lost track of time. With them so wasted, I felt I needed to make sure they got home okay, but when I finally checked my phone.” Quinn paused swallowing down the knot in his throat “and I discovered your calls and all the messages I left." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his guilt. "I know it doesn’t account for the fact I should have checked my phone way before, I should have come home earlier like I had promised."

Y/n felt the anger and fear melt away with each of his words. She knew the guys could be a handful. What group of hockey players weren’t a handful? She didn’t want to add anymore to his burden of guilt. She leaned into his hand, the warmth of his touch sending waves of comfort through her. "Can we go cuddle now?" She asked him shyly, her voice still shaky. The storm outside was slowly calming down, but the tempest in her chest raged on. She needed him, needed his warmth and his words of comfort to soothe her. Quinn quickly wiped the shocked look from his that was slapped on the moment cuddle now fell from her lips.

“C’mere pretty girl.” Quinn grins as he lifts her from her bathtub refuge. “I will never pass up an opportunity to cuddle with you.” He softly places her down on her side of the bed, walking to his dresser to grab himself a set of dry clothes, finally. “I’ll be right back to you.”

Y/n nods into his chest, watching him retreat back into the bathroom. She takes a deep breath, the fear of losing him subsiding more and more with his touch. She grabs the first t-shirt she can find from his drawer, pulls it over her head and wraps it around herself like a cocoon. She crawls into bed, able to relax this time around when lying down.

When Quinn returns, freshly changed into a dry shirt and sweatpants, the sight of her in his shirt brings a warm smile to his face. He slides into bed next to her, pulling her close so that they are face to face. Fitting together as if they were made for each other. She feels the warmth of his body seep into hers, the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm as she lays her hand flat on his chest. The rhythm of it soothing her like a lullaby.

"I could feel and listen to your heart all day, just to know you’re okay," she mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, her voice muffled but clear enough for him to hear. He pulls her in tighter, a silent acknowledgement. A low rumble of thunder in the distance happens and he rubs his hand soothingly over the back of her head.

Quinn whispers, "I’m making you a new promise, pretty girl. I promise from here on out I will not be going out when storms are predicted. Only exceptions of course are those to do with work. Unless it’s just the guys wanting to go out, that is not work related.” Y/n didn’t speak, to exhausted to form words just nodded her head in acknowledgment before dozing off.

He watched her for a few minutes, grateful to be holding her in his arms. The thought of her curled up in the tub, terrified, was a knife in his chest. He had never meant to cause her this much pain. He kissed the top of her head reveling in her soft breaths as she slept before whispering what’s been on his mind since his shower to her sleeping form. “I noticed you didn’t end your second voicemail with an ‘i love you’ or now before falling asleep…we’ve always made a point to make sure the other knows, regardless of how bad the argument was. I know you aren’t hearing this because you’re asleep but it’s easier to say it now than looking in your eyes tomorrow and watching tonight all over. I just really hope you know how much I love you.”

“Good gracious, you forget and he gets all sappy. Yes Quinny I love you. I love you. I love you.” In between each ‘I love you’ was a peck on the lips.

Quinn couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and warm, like a quiet summer night. He pulled her closer, the storm outside now just a faint memory, the rain had turned to a gentle pitter-patter. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and finally her lips, feeling the tension of the night slip away with each touch.

"You know you're going to have to repeat that when I’m fully awake, right?" She mumbled falling right back asleep.

“That is perfectly fine, I’ll be right here next to you whenever you’re ready.” Quinn closed his eyes and was soon asleep as well.

A night of two tales, Quinn is lucky it worked out for him and happy he’s able to keep his girl.

[puckinghischier]

Going off the exes to lovers w/ Quinn…

You guys are still in the same friend group so sometimes you still have to see each other during gatherings or in passing and it’s just little things that Quinn does or says that makes you realize you never fell out of love with him. Like he knew you were coming out on the boat for the day with them so he stocked up on your fav snacks to put on the boat. Or maybe he heard you were sick from his brothers so he insta carts stuff to your house. Just things that makes it blatantly obvious that he still cares.

oh he’s using every opportunity. you drank too much and need a ride home from the bar? he stopped drinking the second you ordered your third drink.

you mention in a gc you’ve been craving a certain type of food? it shows up at your door in an hour.

your friend mentions that you’ve been feeling homesick lately? your parents, somehow, mysteriously, found the money in their budget for a couple of place tickets to see you.

he would be so subtle, so nonchalant with it you don’t even notice until you look back. it’s like he never left. he’s always just…there. waiting.

it’s not like the two of you had some big, blow out break up. it was more so like you still loved him, but you needed to love yourself more. so you’re still friendly. you still speak when in groups together and you still frequent games.

but it’s like his presence in your life never really faltered, even though the absence is what you said you needed.

so one day, when you pretended to order drinks, you noticed the way his glass stayed empty as long as yours stayed full. you mentioned in a gc without him you were craving italian food, and for once, it never showed up.

you kept noticing all the things he was still doing for you, and against your will, your resolve cracked. you knew he loved you, and you still loved him, but you figured he’d quit paying attention after awhile.

but he never did.

and when you confronted him about it? well…he didn’t even deny any of it. he admitted to it like he was saying the sky was blue, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well, why would i stop? you need someone to look after you, and i don’t trust anyone else to do it, so why stop doing what i love for who i love?”

his words were like a punch to your gut, because why, why couldn’t he have just said those things when you two were together?

“quinn, it’s not that simple. you just weren’t…there.”

that? saying he was never there? that made him angry. because while he may not have been physically there, he was always there.

“that’s bullshit. that’s bullshit and you know it. yeah, i might not have been able to be with you all the time, but don’t ever fucking tell me i wasn’t there, y/n, because i’ve always only ever been there.”

he points to your chest as he says it. his outburst surprises you, but it makes you think.

yeah, maybe he was gone all the time, but somehow your car always stayed cleaned and serviced, without you even realizing. maybe he was in a different country most of the time, but there was never a lack of fresh flowers in your apartment. maybe he wasn’t able to be on his phone all the time, but your voicemail was never empty, sweet recordings littering the inbox.

so yeah, maybe he wasn’t always there, but he was never really absent, was he?

as you stand there looking at a red faced and angry, but mostly hurt, quinn, you think…maybe he’s always meant to be there, clouding your thoughts and filling the ache in your chest you forced him to leave.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

“Don’t touch me. We’re fighting.”

Quinn pleaseeee 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I'm gonna put a warning on this because I like it so I don't feel like rewriting it. Warning: shitty relationship with father.

Drabble Masterlist

"Don't touch me. We're fighting."

Quinn didn't seem to care that you were pissed. But pissed didn't even describe the soreness in your jaw from clenching it so tight or the fact that your body temperature was elevated or that all you wanted to do was scream. Glancing over as he stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his face was as it always was calm, his thoughts were probably collected while your brain was firing off things to add to the fire if needed, he looked like he was in control of his body while yours was being controlled by the rage inside you. Looking at Quinn only pissed you off more so you just looked away.

After a minute, you decided it was best to walk away and cool off before you said something you'd regret. Quinn on the other hand, wasn't done fighting he wanted you to understand his point of view and he didn't wanna wait till morning. As you made your way down the hall you could hear Quinn's footsteps behind you.

"Wait Y/N, Let me explain." He went to gently touch your arm in hopes that you would stop walking away from him.

He got his wish, you turned around talking through your teeth you grunted. "Don't touch me. We're fighting."

Quinn has never pulled away from you so quickly before. Even with how angry you were at him it still hurt you how fast he pulled away. Quinn was looking at the floor, for the first time showing emotion since your fight started. "I was just trying to help."

All you could do is sigh. "By telling my father off?" you question defeat clear in your voice. "Quinn I've been over this with you, my family isn't like your family. You can't just voice your opinions to my dad, especially if it's you disagreeing with him or his choices."

Quinn looked up at you finally, he frowned his eyebrows in annoyance but you knew it wasn't at you. "Well I am mad at him. He shouldn't be allowed to talk down to you and blame you for not getting along with your stepmom when all she does is talk down to you. I couldn't sit there and let her talk down to you at dinner. Okay. And I guess I'm sorry for how it came up, but I am not sorry for standing up for you."

"Quinn I know you were trying to stand up for me. But I don't need you or anyone to stand up for me, especially against my family. Okay?" you ask waiting for him to acknowledge you.

"No. I'm sorry because how can you let them tell you that you aren't as far in your career as you should be as if they helped at all with the cost of college. Or the fact that all they did all dinner was telling you everything you were doing wrong with your life?" His tone was accusing and you found yourself taking a step back, your body was exhausted and all you wanted to was get out of this ichy dress and go to bed.

"I don't wanna have this conversation tonight." you begged.

"I just don't understand why do you even keep him around Y/N!"

"Okay since you seem to not be able to understand why I let them talk that way to you let me explain it to you so we never have to talk about this again got it?" you ask waiting for Quinn to nod his head before you continue. "Look my dad might be a piece of shit, but guess what he's my piece of shit father not anyone else's. Everyone always ask me for years 'Y/N if I were you, I'd cut him off why don't you.' For a long time I didn't have an answer for them but as I got older I do and it's this. Because he might be a piece of shit but without him I wouldn't be standing here physically because he is physically half of me. And I know you have lovely parents Quinn and brothers. But not everyone does and I am terrifed that if I do cut him out all the way vs seeing him three times a year like I do now. That one day I will get a call and he will be dead and I will have regret for not at least having him in some capactiy in my life. So because of that fear of regret because I know many people who have it now since their parents passed. I keep him around and if you can't understand that fine, not everyone does."

Taking a step closer to Quinn you add, "but whether you agree or not, you don't get to judge me for the choices I've made when it comes to the relationship between my father and I. Because that is exactly what it is." Pointing to yourself. "It's MY relationship not yours and you also don't get to make it more shaky then it already is by yelling at him in the middle of the steakhouse."

Quinn and you aren't sure how long you stood in your apartment hallway, it could of been seconds it could of been minutes. At some point Quinn looked at you and said "agree to disagree." All you did was nod and you both said true to your word you never talked about your father and your relationship ever again.

[puckbunnyera]

Silver Spoons | Q. Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: quinn hughes x reader genre: angst, fluff word count: 2.1k warnings: none summary: insecurities rise to the surface when meeting quinn's family for the first time author's note: writing is a little (very) rusty after being away for so long but i came up with this idea while listening to a song i found through tiktok. the song is silver spoons (demo) by erin lecount. definitely suggest listening to the song before or while reading to really set the tone. it can be found on soundcloud and youtube. tried to link it but it wasn't working :(.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

I stare at the house you were brought up in All the photographs and door frames are wooden I wish I'd known you when you were younger Before lovers

To say you were nervous would be the understatement of the century. Anxiety holds you tightly in her grasp and floods your mind with the dreadful thoughts that you had been trying so hard to keep away. What if they didn't like you? What if they didn't think you were good enough? What if they noticed how different you were from them? What if they thought you didn't fit into the perfect life they had created for themselves? Your thoughts were running wild and dragging your bruised heart around with them.

"You okay?" Quinn's voice soft and gentle as he slips his hand into yours.

"Yeah, of course." You give him a tight-lipped smile, hoping he won't be able to sense the internal chaos you are experiencing. He does, though. Even if he doesn't say it, you know he does because Quinn notices everything with you.

"Let's head in." He speaks, pressing a light kiss to your temple. "Can put our stuff away in the room then head out into the backyard. Everyone is already here."

"Okay." You nod, voice barely above a whisper.

As he leads you through the beautiful home he was raised in, you look around in awe at the memories held in pretty wooden picture frames hanging on the walls and sitting on tables. You can tell it was a house full of love and happiness. While it's always warmed your heart to know that the amazing man you had the luck of calling yours was the result of such a wonderful upbringing, you can't ignore the painful twinge you feel deep down.

Stepping into Quinn's childhood room, your eyes are immediately drawn to a picture, sitting on his dresser next to the door, of younger Quinn with his family sitting happily on the couch together next to a Christmas tree. The trio stand in the driveway, wearing rollerblades and holding hockey sticks, big smiles plastered on their faces. It brings a smile to your own face.

"How old were you here?" You ask Quinn as you feel him move to stand behind you after putting your bags down.

"Fourteen, maybe." He replies, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder as you both examine the photo.

"You were so cute." You speak softly, a longing feeling pulling at your heartstrings. You wished you could've known younger Quinn. When things were simple and life wasn't so complicated.

"I was? Am I not cute now?" He asks in mock offense.

"You know what I mean." You roll your eyes playfully and nudge him softly with your elbow, drawing a laugh from him.

"Come on. Let's go meet everyone." He pulls away. You instantly mourn the loss of his warmth but settle with the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours as he pulls you out of the room.

And I bet you grew up eating at the table Fed love from silver spoons, reasons to be grateful

You feel overwhelmed the moment you step out into the backyard. Quinn's parents and brothers are already seated at the dinner table that was set up, talking and laughing. You do your best to swallow down the panic that's trying to force its way up your throat as Quinn pulls you in their direction. You're only given about thirty seconds to calm yourself before you're standing in front of them.

"Quinn!" Ellen exclaims, standing up pulling her oldest son into a warm embrace. "I'm so glad you both made it safely."

"Hey," He returns her hug before stepping back and placing a comforting hand on the small of your back. "This is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mom, Ellen, my dad, Jim, and my brothers, Luke and Jack."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you." You wave shyly, giving them the best smile you could muster amidst your inner turmoil.

"It's so nice to finally met you, too." Ellen steps closer before pulling you into a hug. You hesitate briefly before returning the unexpected affection. When she steps back and returns to her seat, Quinn leads you to the two chairs left empty for you both to sit.

"Quinn has told us so much about you. All good things, of course. It's nice to finally put a name to the face." Jim speaks once you're settled at the table.

"You as well." You blush. "I won't lie and say that haven't been nervous about this trip, but I've been wanting to meet the people who raised him to be the amazing person that he is."

"Oh, please." Ellen laughs, shaking her head. "You're making me blush. And there is absolutely nothing to be nervous about. We are so happy that you are here."

"How did Quinn manage to bag you?" Jack scoffs, a playful spark in his eyes. "I mean, just look at him. You could've done so much better."

"Like who?" Quinn glares at his brother. "You?"

"You said it, not me." Jack raises his hands in mock defense.

"Excuse my meathead of a brother. We're not all like that." Luke jokes. "It's nice to meet you, Y/N."

"You, too."

Shortly after initial greeting, food starts being passed around as everyone starts asking you questions about yourself. What do you do for a living? How did you meet Quinn? How is life in Vancouver? Where did you grow up? The questions seem endless, but you answer them with kindness and grace, mentally patting yourself on the back for managing to keep composure under the pressure you were feeling. As the dinner goes on, the tension in you eases, and you're able to genuinely laugh and smile. It's clear in how comfortable everyone is that this is just another evening dinner for them. Something that they've obviously spent years doing.

I spilt the good wine, I panicked A disaster, a knee-jerk reaction Then everyone around us starts laughing Is that how it's supposed to happen?

"Hey, Y/N?" Luke calls from across the table. "Could you pass me the bread basket?"

"Of course." You smile, picking it up to simply hand it to him. If only life was that easy for you. You watch in horror as the wine bottle in the middle of the table topples over, spilling the dark red liquid onto the white tablecloth. "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry!" You jump up from your seat, grabbing napkins and throwing them over the mess. Tears threaten to spill as embarrassment floods through you.

"Baby, it's okay." Quinn stands to help you.

"Let me go grab some more napkins." Ellen rises from her hand and heads into the house. Once the mess is cleaned everyone settles back in at the table.

"I'm really sorry." You apologize again.

"It's no big deal." Jim shrugs it off with a chuckle.

"Are you sure? I can pay you back. That looked really expensive."

"It's okay, Y/N. Really." Ellen shakes her head.

A warm hand slide across your thigh, squeezing gently and settling your bouncing leg that you hadn't even realized was moving in the throes of your anxiety. He leans over and presses a comforting peck against to the side of your head.

"Definitely not the worst thing to happen at the dinner table." Luke laughs. "One time, Jack and Quinn got into and spilt a whole pot of soup. It got everywhere."

"I completely forgot about that." Jack gasps, laughing at the memory that has resurfaced. And like that, the wine incident is forgotten and everyone moves on.

We're the product of love that we do not receive I'll corrupt every branch of this family tree --- Silver spoons and butter knives Living hand to mouth, I'm getting by Just feed me love and give it time Oh, maybe in another life

After dinner, you and Quinn make your way up to his room to turn in for the night. As you move through the motions of getting dressed into your sleepwear, a pair of sleep shorts and one of Quinn's shirts, your mind has taken you elsewhere. Everything has been going well, but you can't help but feel a sense of sadness. And a little bit of guilt. Sadness at the fact that you are clearly an outsider in the perfect family that Quinn belongs to. Happiness and love seem to come so easy for them, but your life has been so different, and it shows.

You grew up in a home where love was conditional. It wasn't given unless you gave something in return that benefited the other person. Your parents weren't the type to ask you how your day was. They didn't show up to support you at school events or hold you when you were feeling down. When you made little mistakes here and there, you were treated as if you committed the crime of the century. Yelling and cursing were a common occurrence. Show of emotions and shed tears were met with eye rolls and ridicule. You spent your life walking on eggshells around the people who were supposed to love you. You learned to only depend on yourself, trust no one, and expect absolutely nothing from everyone. Until Quinn, and that's where the guilt comes in. Guilt for wishing you'd had better parents than the ones you had. Guilt for wishing your life had been different. Guilt for being ungrateful when your life could have been worse. Guilt for being imperfect in the presence of those who seemed to have it all. It was eating away at you and you didn't know how to make it stop.

"Babe?" Quinn calls, voice quiet and cautious as he approaches you.

"Hmmm?"

"Where did you go?" He strokes your cheek softly and carefully with the back of his fingers.

"Sorry. It's nothing." You shake your head, crawling into your side of the bed and laying down.

"Talk to me." He lays down beside you, turning to face you. "Somethings wrong. You forget how good I've gotten at reading you."

"Nothing's wrong, but that's the problem." You sigh, caving in. Knowing that you can't hide anything from him.

"I'm confused."

"Tonight's been absolutely amazing. Your family is amazing and perfect. You are amazing and perfect."

"But?"

"But I feel like I don't belong here. I feel like we come from too different worlds. This life you live, and the relationship you have with your family is completely for to me." You release a shaky breath as the tears you held in all night slowly start to cascade down your cheeks. "And I'm scared that I'll just end up corrupting it somehow. You are the most amazing thing to ever happen to me, and I don't want to fuck this up, but it feels like it's inevitable. Bound to happen eventually."

"You could never fuck this up." He lifts a hand to softly brush away your tears. "You've told me that your home life was never the greatest, but don't do this. Don't compare yours to mine and make yourself feel like you've done something wrong. You haven't done anything wrong. What happened has clearly hurt you in ways that I could never understand, but don't let it define you. You might not see it, but to me, you are perfect just the way you are."

"I just want to be good enough for you."

"You are good enough for me. More than enough. I wish you could see that." He sighs, leaning forward and kissing you softly. "I making a promise to you that I will spend every day showing you that and proving it to you until you start to see it for yourself. I know it will take time, but that's fine with me. Because this. Us. Is end game. You are end game for me."

"You are too patient with me."

"And you aren't patient enough with yourself. It's okay though because I have enough patience for the both of us."

"I don't deserve you."

"It's the other way around, sweet girl." He pecks your nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too." You curl into him, pressing as close to him as you can.

"Now sleep." He wraps his arms tightly around you. "I'm pretty sure my mom has put together a whole itinerary of things for us to do tomorrow so you'll need the rest." He chuckles.

"Goodnight, Quinny." You murmur, sleep ready to whisk you away.

"Goodnight, my love."

[oraltraditionfiction]

Us | QH43

Quinn Hughes x f! reader (angst)

Summary: Snippets of you and Quinn's secret relationship, and the aftermath.

Warnings: angst, hurt with no comfort, ambiguous ending, sad Quinn, anxious reader etc

WC: 1.8k

Author's Note: !!! This is fully inspired by us by Gracie Abrams (which has been on repeat for like. 4 days now. absolute banger.) This is pretty angsty 😭 I apologize in advance I think I was just really in the mood for some pain.

This has an ambiguous ending (for the most part) but I do have an idea for a part 2 if anyone is interested! Anyways, enjoy! - 🐇

(I'd also like to note that the italicized poetry is taken from Crush by Richard Siken, and Leaping Poetry by Robert Bly!)

I know your ghost, I see her through the smoke, She'll play her show

And you'll be watchin'

He caught himself watching you again. It had been habit for so long now. Checking on her from the corner of his eye. He had learned to act in such a way that it was hard to tell he was stealing a glance at her. Her. He needed to snap out of it. 

He looked straight ahead, steadfast in his resolution to break old patterns. He could hear her from the end of the hall. She was briefing one of his teammates on the video they were about to film.

“I know this is hard but please try not to swear, at least not too much. The timbre of her laugh, echoing down the hall. Quinn  knew without looking at her that she was checking her phone. Her disorganized notes app, full of spare ideas for videos and poems that came to her during the twilight hours. “Oh! I know this is obvious but, try not to talk about anything personal that you or a teammate wouldn’t want 400 teenagers online to know.”  He watched from lowered lids as she brushed past him, a slight hesitation in her steps as her shoulder brushed against him. “That stuff’s just hard to edit out-“ her voice trailed off as they turned a corner. The reverb of her warm murmur echoing back to him, taunting him. He just knew she was reminding Brock not to talk about anything personal because of him. 

He scuffed his covered skate against the worn floor. Tilting his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, and imagined that he was waiting for her to walk with him, instead of someone else.

Wonder if you regret the secret

Of us, us

He could remember the first wrong turn.

“What do you mean you don’t want to tell anyone?” He had asked, confused, thumb stroking against her pulse point soothingly as she cradled his face. 

“Quinn…” she had sighed, suddenly looking so small and vulnerable sitting on her old patterned couch. He kissed her palm, a small comfort.

“I mean, you’ve seen the weird shit people can comment about the wags.” He nodded. “Imagine just seeing that all day. All that negativity. And it’s just your job to navigate that and delete it. I’ve seen awful things about some of these women.” She swallowed, slipping her hand away from his cheek. He missed the warmth immediately, absently leaning into her orbit to make up for it. “I just,.. I don’t know what I would do. Knowing that people were saying those things about me.”

Quinn understood. Honestly the thought of seeing those kinds of things said about her…

Yeah. He could keep a secret for a few more months.

“Sure, sweetheart,” Quinn said, folding her into his arms. “We can keep it quiet for a little bit longer. Just until you’re comfortable.” He could feel her melt into him, relaxing at his agreement. Once she was more comfortable with the idea of them, he thought she wouldn’t mind what people would say.

It felt like what I've known

You're twenty-nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open my home?

Quinn  placed the last box on the bedroom floor, lovingly labeled “poetry <3”. As he gingerly cut through the packing tape, he heard a gentle knock on the door. 

“You don’t need to knock,” he laughed, turning his head so he could look at her. 

“I mean, it’s your house still-“ she said, anxiously shifting her weight from side to side. Quinn stood, fondly shaking his head as he approached her.

“Your house too now, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his arms around his girl, and swaying from side to side. 

“I just don’t want it to be too soon Quinn. It’s only been like, a year.” Shesaid, tense in his arms. 

“Mi casa es tu casa, right?” he said jokingly, trying to get the woman in his arms to relax. 

She laughed, encapsulating the room in warmth again. They melted into each other, the tension evaporating. “I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, Quinny.” Murmured softly into his shoulder.

Quinn hugged her tighter, trying to forge them together, “you could never make me uncomfortable,” he said as he placed his cheek atop her head. “I feel like I’ve known you forever.” And as he said that to her, he knew it to be true. This love was different, quiet— almost sacred.

And if history's clear, the flames always end up in ashes

And what seemed like fate

Give it ten months and you'll be past it (you'll be past it)

He knew it had to move at some point. Every morning it confronted him, like a ghoul living in his sock drawer. Quinn reached for the intruder, thumb brushing against delicate blue velvet as he withdrew the small ring box from its hiding place. The man sighed as he flipped it open once again. The light reflecting off of the diamond and shining small, nebulous glimmers of light across his tired face. 

A click as he closed the box, the sound of a sharp thump. The little blue box landed somewhere amongst the debris on your abandoned side of the closet. It had been nearly 10 months. Out of sight, out of mind.

That night you were talkin'

False prophets and profits

They make in the margins

Of poetry sonnets

Quinn watched, transfixed as you read aloud to him. His head sat heavily on her thighs, savoring the feeling of her hand touching his hair absentmindedly. The words nearly escaped him, too immersed in the way her sweet lips shaped the words. Nectar falling from her mouth as she kept the meter.

“I had a dream about you. We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want.

You said Tell me about your books, your visions made of flesh and light and I said This is the Moon. This is the Sun. Let me name the stars for you. Let me take you there. The splash of my tongue melting you like a sugar cube... We were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want, so I said What do you want, sweetheart? and you said-“

“Marry me.”

It was spoken on the breath of a sigh. Nearly inaudible. Still, the room seemed to lose some of its color. 

“What?” You whispered, hand withdrawing from his hair, leaving an inexplicable dread lingering around his heart.

Quinn sat up, nose brushing hers. “I meant it.” He reached for her hand, shaking and limp in her lap. “Marry me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He breathed out as he looked into her eyes earnestly. 

“I-“

“I know you’re scared. And I know you don’t want anyone to know about us.” The man said, placing her hand on his heart, cradling it gently. “But I don’t care! I would marry you right this second if I could.” He leaned his forehead against her temple, murmuring “just you and me, baby. No one has to know. I would marry you in secret, as long as it means you’re  mine.” Quinn was rambling now, but he’d do anything to convince her. “I already have a ring and-“

His hand landed unceremoniously in his lap. 

Before he could reach out, before he could even breathe, she slipped out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry.”

And Quinn felt like he would never breathe again, staring across the room at his sock drawer and the now open door to what was once their bedroom.

Robert Bly on my nightstand

Gifts from you, how ironic

Three drinks in, and Quinn was conquering his fears. There was 11 months of dust buildup on the slim book, still clinging to the paperback cover. He thumbed it open, nearly caving in and going back for another drink as he glimpsed the tail end of the note you had left for him underneath the title page. 

“- hoping these poems will remind you of me when we’re apart.

Love you lots,

Yours-“

He flipped to another page, hoping to find something he hated enough that he could find the strength to finally throw this book out.

“Longing to find her in a phrase, and be close-“

Quinn closed the book.

Mistaken for strangers, the way it

Was, was

The moment he was  dreading was here. You approached him after practice, quietly waiting for the rest of the team to file past. You toyed with your phone anxiously, “Is it alright if I grab you for a quick video?” She looked as tired as he felt these days. He just stood, gazing at her, responding with a  slow nod. She smiled, relieved. Quinn had almost forgotten what it looked like in person. Still a such a sweet sight. 

He leaned in slightly, irresistant to the gravity of your presence. As you opened your mouth to speak, lips quirked up into a private grin, a voice came from behind him.

One of the new girls on the social media team. She smiled as she approached. “I didn't realise you two were close! Guess it’s something to look forward to, huh?”

You forced a laugh saying, “Well, when you work with someone for two years, you get about as close as coworkers can get.”

Quinn’s spine straightened, in no mood for media duties now. He thought of the ring box, and all the photos he still had yet to delete. The stolen kisses in supply closets, the notes you left him in the margins of your favorite poetry books, highlighting secret code in between the stanzas 

(“O love,  where are you leading me now?”). The words of her favorite poem echoed in his head, “As close as coworkers can get” 

He mumbled something about putting his gear away as he brushed past you, no longer recognizing the foreign way your shoulder bumped against his.

Do you miss us, us? (Us, us, us)

The best kind, well, sometimes

Do you miss us?

He stood, leaning against his counter, trying to decide the best way to respond to this text. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the cardboard box full of miscellaneous objects to donate, the creased cover of a poetry book peaking out.

He made his decision.

A blind date sounds great! Is she free Friday?

[sunsetchicane]

i love you, i'm sorry [QH43]

quinn hughes x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k

summary: two years after breaking things off with Quinn, you find yourself going to Game 1 of Round 2 of the Playoffs, completely unprepared to see the man you still harbour feelings for.

based off of: this is loosely based off of I Love You, I'm Sorry by Gracie Abrams

warnings: aggressive amounts of pining (like, probably annoying), two swear words, a few kisses, mentions of a breakup (so like, kinda angst? idk man), copious amounts of cheesiness, probably extremely inaccurate descriptions of the game, not great writing lol. let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: okay, i haven't written anything on here yet due to a horrendous case of writer's block and many hours of working. so, this is definitely not my best work, but it was a fun way to try move past my writing slump. i really do hope that anyone who reads this does enjoy! love, addi <3

Vancouver’s streets preserve memories well. You found that out when, even two years after things had fallen to pieces, you couldn’t go anywhere without seeing the two of you holding hands, sharing quiet laughs, and stealing kisses. You’d thought that after two years you would’ve been able to shake those memories off when they plagued your mind; but it was hard when he was plastered across banners and fans sported his jersey for half the year. 

He was making his name known throughout the NHL, and you couldn’t ignore the buzz around Quinn Hughes when the Canucks made it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs. 

After you and Quinn had broken things off, you had to find separate friend groups to belong in. The two of you had shared too many mutual friends. The group of ladies you did manage to find yourself among knew nothing about your past relationship with the captain of the Canucks. When the city was gearing up for the first round of the playoffs, even your friends couldn’t stop talking about the sport. 

You were standing outside, leaning against the railing on a BC ferry, returning from visiting family on the Island, when you received a call from your friend Lydia. You picked up without hesitation. 

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked. 

She immediately giggled, which honestly had you a little scared. “I have a surprise,” she said excitedly, the last word dragged out. 

You snorted. “Am I allowed to ask what it is?” 

“It’s a really big surprise, and you have to promise not to scream when I tell you,” she laughed, acting like a teenage girl again. It was one of the things you really did love about her – her ability to bring childlike joy with her wherever she went. 

“I promise not to scream, Lyd,” you assured her, hoping she was satisfied. 

She paused for dramatic effect, and you let her. You knew she was having fun with it. 

“We’re going to the first game of round 2 of the playoffs!” she squealed. 

Your phone nearly slipped through your fingers, almost lost to the sea. You stepped away from the railing, suddenly very glad there was no one on the deck with you. Your heart clenched in your chest. The last time you had been to a game was when you and Quinn had still been together. He wouldn’t even know you were in the crowd, but you would be painfully aware of him in the centre of the arena. 

“Okay, you’re even quieter than I thought you’d be,” Lydia commented, reminding you that there was someone on the other end of the line. 

You debated for a moment what to say. Would it best to just blurt out that you had dated Quinn Hughes and you were not exactly ready to go watch him play again? Definitely not. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m just surprised!” That wasn’t a lie. “How’d you get the tickets?” 

“My dad,” she said simply. “When I told him I wanted to go see the Canucks, he was suddenly the proudest parent in the world. You know how he is – once he gets an idea in his head, whether it’s planted there by me or not, he has to do it.” 

“Wow, that’s–that’s crazy!” you said stiffly, still unsure of how to act. 

“Yeah, and it gets better! We’re sitting right behind the Canucks’ bench!” 

You nearly choked on nothing. “What?” 

“I know, right? I don’t know how my dad managed it, but he did,” she told you, completely unaware of your stuttering heart. “Who knows, maybe we’ll catch some players’ eyes,” she joked, and you tried to force a laugh out with her. 

“Yeah, maybe.” What you didn’t add out loud was your brain screaming please no. 

After a few more minutes of chatting and you pretending to be completely sound of mind, Lydia said goodbye, telling you she would send the details soon. 

You pocketed your phone and leaned against the railing once more. You watched as the sun brushed the horizon, casting a beautiful pink against the clouds. Vancouver was getting close, and for obvious reasons, you were suddenly dreading it. You wanted to sit on the ferry until it returned to Vancouver Island. 

You sighed and rested your chin on your folded arms. You heard a faint buzzing sound above you, and lifted your eyes to the sky. A plane was coming to land at the Vancouver Airport. As it approached, you let yourself imagine it was Quinn flying back from Nashville, and you felt your heart tighten in your chest once more, because you were terrified to see him again, but also because you still missed him. Maybe you were scared to see him because you missed him. 

You dropped your forehead to your arms once more and groaned loudly, the ocean and the brightening city lights your only listening companions. 

When the morning of May 8th arrived, you found yourself unable to shake the anxiety that had made a home in your chest over the last few days. There was a tenseness in your shoulders that never left, and a squeezing at your heart that seemed relentless. 

The group chat you shared with your friends had been buzzing incessantly, the girls incredibly excited. Every now and then you made your fingers put a message out there that hopefully hid your anxieties from them. 

After much procrastination, you eventually made your way to your closet. After tugging on a simple pair of blue jeans, you reached towards the back of your closet. Your fingers closed around the unmistakable, thick material of the jersey. Taking a deep breath, you pulled it out. Your only Canucks jersey of course, had to be Quinn’s home jersey from two seasons ago. No one would know it was the jersey that he had pulled over his head before every home game. However, you knew. There was no C on the left side of the chest, and your mind was pulled back to the relationship you had shared.  

You often questioned why you and Quinn had even ended things. You missed him so much still, and you were plagued by the way you knew it had been the wrong choice. You had been growing apart as he was dealing with growing attention and expectations within his career, and a promotion at your own job had stolen your energy and attention. You had both been tired and short with one another, and eventually the tension built and had blown up in a terrible way. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to force both the guilt and continued yearning out of your busy mind. 

When Lydia texted that she and the girls were on the way to your apartment, you reluctantly pulled the jersey over your head. The sleeves covered most of your hands, and the fabric fell past your hips and part way down your thighs. You pulled on a pair of shoes and left the safe space that was your apartment, locking the door behind you. 

Rogers Arena was packed and the energy in the building made you feel like you could start vibrating. You and your friends held hands so as not to get separated. You were glad when your friends made no comment on how tightly you squeezed their hands, or how sweaty your palms might have been. 

You were made significantly more nervous when you realised that Lydia had not been exaggerating about your seats. You were sitting right behind the bench. 

The arena was filling up steadily, and you sat there in between your friends, not speaking a single word. It had been a couple years since you had been here, and while you were very nervous, the familiarity came rushing back to you and it helped to slow your fast beating heart. 

If you closed your eyes, you could imagine Quinn smiling at you from the other side of the glass, and laughing when you blew him a kiss. 

You wrapped your arms gently around yourself, the once very stiff material of the jersey now very easily shifted and manipulated. You knew it didn’t smell like him anymore, but when you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his old jersey, it was like he was right there. You were wrapped in him still, and you doubted it would ever go away. 

You were shocked out of your own thoughts when your friends, along with the rest of the fans around you, started cheering. The Canucks and the Oilers were on the ice, starting to warm up. Your eyes searched the ice quickly, and gliding easily across the ice on the opposite side of rink, was the captain, the number 43 embroidered on his jersey, just like the one you adorned. 

Your own cheeks heated up when it really hit you that you were wearing his old jersey. You weren’t together anymore; what were you thinking? He could see you– what would he think when he saw you right behind his bench, wearing the jersey he had gifted you?

You suddenly wanted to throw up more than ever. He exchanged a few words with Elias, and laughed at something his buddy had said. Your heart ached in longing once more. You had missed his laugh so much. 

Quinn now had facial hair, something he hadn’t had when he was with you. His hair was longer, peeking out from beneath his helmet. He already seemed much more grown up. He looked like a captain, something who had become used to leading his team. Quinn had always been somewhat confident in his abilities as a hockey player, but it was easy to tell that he had really gotten used to his role on the team and had come into his own over the past two years. 

The girls grabbed your hands and walked into the aisle, just to get right up to the glass. Your face burned and you tried to hide behind some of your friends. You kept your heads down and your arms folded. 

Your friends held up hats and other paraphernalia that they desperately wanted signed by players. 

“Y/N!” One of your friends practically shouted. You suddenly noticed that they had all stopped cheering. You looked up to see them parted in front of you. 

Quinn was on the other side of the glass, looking right at you. 

Your friends shoved you up the glass, giggling and squealing. You nearly ran into the glass from the force of their shoves. Quinn laughed at you, his smile exactly how you remembered it. 

He pointed at the white Canucks towel in your hands and shouted, “toss it over!” The arena was so loud you were glad he had mouthed it clearly. You hesitated but threw the towel over. With one glove off and in the other hand, he caught it. He gestured to one of your friends to throw over the Sharpie she was holding. She did gladly, happy to be included. He caught it easily and started to write quickly on the white fabric. Your heart did flips while watching him, and your hands shook with nothing to hold onto. 

He finally capped the pen and threw both the towel and marker over the glass. You struggled to catch it, but thankfully, you managed to hold onto it. You held it flat before you. 

Meet me by my car after. Usual spot. Your breath stopped slightly when you saw a rushed heart drawn next to the words. You looked back up to see him putting his glove back on. He gave you a warm smile that set you on a fire from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You took a deep breath and nodded to him. His smile widened slightly. Before he turned to skate away, you saw him mouth the words, “nice jersey.” You stuttered for a second, and he simply winked and turned. 

Your friends all screamed and crowded you, looking at the towel. 

“Usual spot? What the fuck is going on?” Lydia yelled over the noise, cackling. 

You just blushed and shook your head, returning to your seat with the towel gripped tightly in your hands. 

As the teams continued to warm up, you explained as quickly as you could that you and Quinn had once been together. Your friends, of course, were shocked but also very excited for you at the prospect of reuniting with him. You simply waved your hands in protest. 

“I don’t even know if he wants to get back together with me! He might just want to catch up or something… we’re cool now and I don’t want to mess anything up.” 

“Girl, please!” one of your friends shouted. “He drew a motherfucking heart and winked at you! Of course he wants you back.”

You all laughed and you embraced the next blush that warmed your cheeks. 

The players left the ice, and minutes later, the lights went dark. The deafening sound of nearly 19,000 people screaming almost broke your eardrums. Blue light filled the room, and you looked up to see what was playing on the large screens above you. 

You watched the intro video and let a nostalgic, giddy feeling overtake you. You couldn’t help but smile. 

The arena fell back into nearly full darkness. You heard the beginning of a familiar sound of twinkly guitar that dragged you right back to 2011. Goosebumps rose up along your skin all over your body. That was the last time the Canucks had made it to the Playoff finals, and you hoped dearly that they could get there again. The playing of Where The Streets Have No Name from their intro from 2011 made hope take hold of you.

You couldn’t help but raise your particularly special white rally towel in the air to wave alongside all of the other Canucks fans in the building. 

It had been surprisingly easy to get into the players’ parking garage. Despite it being two years since you had been in the building, you were recognized by several people, who let you walk wherever you wanted. 

Your friends had practically shoved you to go after the game, screaming after you to call them later. You had laughed and walked away, your steps lighter than they had been in a long while. 

You later found yourself standing by Quinn’s car. It was the same one he’d had when you had been together. Your hand brushed the shining hood of the car, and you could see yourself in the passenger seat, laughing at something he’d said as the two of you drove around downtown Vancouver. 

“Thank God you actually showed up.” 

You whipped around, seeing a freshly showered Quinn in sweatpants and a hoodie making his way towards you. 

You tugged on the hem of the jersey, your heart beating quicker and quicker with every step he took. 

He stopped in front of you, and when you looked up, you both spoke. 

“I love you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “You-what?” 

He bit his bottom lip before repeating himself. “I love you. I know it’s been two years, but-” 

“I love you, too,” you said quickly, blood roaring in your ears. “And I am so, so sorry. I never should’ve-” 

It was his turn to cut you off. “Don’t apologise, please. It’s not your fault.”

“Can you… can you please accept my apology, at least?” 

He smiled softly. “I forgive you. I’m sorry, too.” 

“I forgive you, too,” you whispered softly, your heart swelling with affection as you looked at him. You felt an intense relief flood your body. Your shoulders finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. He reached out and wrapped you in a warm hug. You melted into it, returning the gesture. 

“I missed you. So much,” you mumbled into his hoodie. 

One of hands gently scratched the back of your neck like he used to do. “I missed you, too.” He pulled away just enough to lean down and kiss your lips softly. Nothing had ever felt so natural. His playoff beard scratched your face and you laughed at the sensation, pulling away. 

“Not used to the beard,” you admitted, smiling widely. 

He smiled, too. “Yeah, what do you think? Should I keep it around?” 

You shrugged, leaning back into him. “Well, you’re very handsome either way.” 

“You think?” 

“Mhm. Your hair also looks very good. I like it longer like this,” you told him, ruffling his brown hair. He swatted your hand away and kissed your cheek. 

“Noted.” He looked down at me again. “Should probably get you a new jersey.” 

“Hm, you think I need the big ole C on here, Captain?” 

He shook his head, blushing. “Don’t call me that.” 

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him, bringing his head down for you to kiss. “Couldn’t help myself.” You grabbed his hands. “Congratulations on the big win, by the way.” 

“I can’t believe you came. I thought I was hallucinating or something when I saw you,” he told you honestly. 

“Well, I’m glad I came,” you admitted, running a hand through his hair. 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, smiling wider than you had seen all night. 

You laughed, feeling pure joy in your heart. “I think I might have an idea.” 

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY ; quinn hughes.

♡ ｡ﾟ･ pair: quinn hughes x fmc (madison, cindy kimberly face claim)

♡ ｡ﾟ･ word count: 52.1k

♡ ｡ﾟ･ synopsis: before becoming a world-known model, madison carter was someone else. she was quinn hughes’ best friend, and he was her favorite person in the world. until things changed and nothing was ever the same.

♡ ｡ﾟ･ what to expect: nsfw, childhood-friends-to-lovers, famous model fmc, hurt/comfort, shitty family but also! found family, angst, happy ending.

— author’s note: for young me, and for all the people who once thought that what they had wasn’t enough. spoiler alert, it was.

nhl masterlist.

— theme song: you too by chase atlantic.

main female character:

Madison Carter

— “do you know how much pain it took to make me this kind?”.

— makes the best blueberry pie in the entire world.

— does it smell like vanilla? spectacular give me fourteen of ‘em right now.

— dog lover.

— #1 fan of chocolate chip pancakes and gravity falls.

before you read.

0. warnings;

00. meet madison carter;

00.1. the first time you saw quinn;

00.2. the first time quinn brought you to his house;

00.3. the last time you and quinn saw each other;

chapters.

𖧷 chapter one

𖧷 chapter two

𖧷 chapter three

𖧷 chapter four

𖧷 chapter five

𖧷 chapter six

𖧷 chapter seven

𖧷 chapter eight

𖧷 chapter nine

𖧷 chapter ten

𖧷 chapter eleven

𖧷 chapter twelve

𖧷 chapter thirteen

𖧷 epilogue

after you read:

smau | quinn and madison through the years

[isaadore]

US THREE QUINN HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing dad!quinn hughes x mom!reader

SUMMARY little snippets of your life with quinn before and after the birth of your son. word count 1.2k

warnings fem!reader, tooth-rotting fluff

notes i haven’t written anything in sooo long, so i’m a little rusty 😓 i apologize if this isn’t the best and a little cheesy. i just got a few ideas while watching titans (i’m in love with dick grayson)

QH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

PAINTING THE NURSERY

It was one of those perfect autumn afternoons, the kind where the air felt crisp and colourful leaves danced in the wind. Quinn set the last can of soft pastel yellow paint down on the nursery floor, and as the warm light streamed through the window, the walls seemed to glow. You were perched on a step stool, carefully taping the edges of the room, your growing belly just brushing the ladder as you shifted. Quinn was nearby, his brows furrowed, hovering slightly with one hand stretched out, ready to catch you if you even thought about wobbling.

“You know I’ve got this, right?” you teased, turning to shoot him a playful smirk.

“I know,” he replied, his own grin creeping onto his face, “but just... humour me, okay? I can't help it—I'm not taking any chances.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, hopping down to grab the paintbrush he held out to you. “All right, Mr. Safety First. Let's see if you’re as good with a paintbrush as you are with a hockey stick.”

“Better,” he shot back, popping open the paint can with a satisfying snap. 

As you worked together, it felt like more than just painting. You shared giggles and tossed around baby names, and then, in a moment of mischief, you smeared a little paint right on his nose. He retaliated with a playful swipe of yellow across your cheek, his boyish grin impossibly wide when you squealed in surprise. By the time the walls were mostly covered, your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your heart felt so full it was almost overwhelming.

Quinn took a step back to admire the work, his hand resting gently on your back. “I think he’s going to love it,” he murmured.

“I think so too,” you replied softly, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling all the warmth between you both.

PROUD DAD-TO-BE

The first time Quinn brought you and your soon-to-be son into a post-game interview was completely unexpected. The Canucks had just pulled off an overtime win, and Quinn was still filled with adrenaline as he stood by the microphone.

“Quinn, how does it feel to lead your team to a win like that?” a reporter asked, clearly eager for a soundbite.

He flashed a big grin, running a hand through his damp hair, still buzzing from the game. “It feels amazing. Honestly, though, it’s not just about me. My wife’s at home, seven months pregnant and absolutely crushing it. Every time I’m on the ice, I’m thinking about them. I want to make my son proud before he’s even here.”

The room filled with soft laughter and nods of approval. Quinn’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and excitement, and back home, you were curled up on the couch with tears in your eyes, feeling every word. He had this incredible way of melting your heart, always reminding you of the beautiful life you were building together.

CRAVINGS AND CHICKEN PARM

A few days later, you found yourself sitting at the kitchen counter, scrolling through recipes on your phone. Pregnancy cravings had hit you hard, and that night, all you could think about was chicken parmesan.

Quinn strolled in, wearing sweatpants and a simple t-shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He leaned over your shoulder to peek at the screen, flashing a grin. “Alright, what’s on the menu tonight?” he asked.

“Chicken parm,” you said, setting your phone down with a smile. “And extra cheese, of course.”

“Even better,” he replied, already heading toward the fridge.

Quinn wasn’t exactly a culinary master, but he’d taken it upon himself to whip up whatever you were craving. Watching him in the kitchen was one of your favourite pastimes. He would hum under his breath, occasionally glancing back to check in on you. That night, as he dipped the chicken into the breadcrumb mixture, he paused, a thoughtful look on his face.

“You know,” he said, looking up with a smirk, “if our kid ends up loving hockey as much as chicken parm, we might be in for some late-night games and a lot of takeout.”

You laughed, shaking your head at the thought. “He’s going to have your work ethic and your heart, so I think we’ll manage just fine.”

Quinn’s ears turned a light shade of pink at the compliment, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he got back to layering the mozzarella and marinara with a focus that made you smile. When he finally set the plate in front of you, there was a look of triumph on his face.

As you took that first bite, Quinn settled in beside you, his hand instinctively resting on your belly. Just then, the baby kicked, and both of you froze before bursting into joyful smiles.

“Looks like he approves,” Quinn said softly, his thumb brushing gently against your skin through your shirt. 

“He definitely has good taste,” you replied, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

LULLABIES

It was well past midnight when Quinn heard the soft sound of you humming from the nursery. He had just wrapped up reviewing game footage in his office, but the gentle melody drew him out. Quietly, he padded down the hall and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight of you swaying in the rocking chair.

At first, you were lost in your own world, your hands resting on your belly as you sang a lullaby barely above a whisper. The dim glow of the nightlight cast a warm, golden light around the room, and at that moment, Quinn thought you’d never look more beautiful.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmured, stepping inside and breaking the stillness.

You looked up, a smile brightening your face. “Just practicing for when he gets here. Thought I’d get a head start on lullabies.”

Quinn knelt beside the chair, his chin resting on the armrest as he gazed up at you. “You’re going to be an amazing mom,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s so lucky to have you.”

You reached out, your fingers gently stroking his dark hair. “And he’s got the best dad in the world. We make a good team, don’t we?”

“The best,” he replied, leaning in to place a tender kiss on your belly. “Hey, buddy, you’re going to love it here. I promise.”

FIRSTS

On the morning of Quinn’s first game, after the baby was born, the house was buzzing with energy. You darted around the living room, stuffing essentials into the diaper bag while Quinn wrestled with the car seat straps, frustration written all over his face.

“This thing is impossible,” he grumbled, tugging at the straps.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.”

With a little teamwork, you managed to get the seat secured, and Quinn let out an exasperated cheer. “We did it! All right, now we’re all set!”

As you carefully strapped your son into the seat, Quinn knelt down, his face breaking into a wide grin as he gazed at the baby. “Okay, little man. It’s game day! No pressure, but we’ve got a streak to uphold.”

You gave him an amused roll of your eyes. “Don’t listen to him. Just focus on being adorable.”

Quinn leaned over and planted a kiss on your cheek, his excitement radiating as he headed toward the door. “Best cheer squad ever!” he called back, his voice full of warmth.

When you got to the rink, the atmosphere was electric. Quinn scored a goal and immediately turned to look at you in the stands, where you sat cradling your son. The pride lighting up his eyes was everything, and in that moment, everything felt just right.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ QH43 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.5k

genre : angst, fluff at the end no warnings

summary : a late-night argument forces you and quinn to confront the vulnerabilities in your relationship

「 author’s note 」 this one was inspired by the song mad by ne-yo !

the apartment was eerily silent, save for the occasional hum of the heater and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. you tossed and turned in bed, trying to find sleep, but it refused to come. the argument with quinn earlier in the evening replayed in your mind like a broken record.

it wasn’t even a big fight—nothing earth-shattering, but the frustration lingered. it had started with something trivial, as most fights do. quinn had been stressed from back-to-back games, and you were juggling a heavy workload. his short responses had grated on your nerves, and your sharp words had only added fuel to the fire.

now, as you lay staring at the ceiling, the weight of the unresolved tension felt unbearable. quinn was on his side of the bed, his back to you, his breathing steady but not quite deep enough to suggest he was asleep either. the air between you was thick, but neither of you had made the move to bridge the gap.

with a sigh, you pushed the covers off and swung your legs over the side of the bed. the hardwood floor was cool beneath your feet as you tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful not to make too much noise. the faint glow of the kitchen light guided your steps as you made your way to the fridge.

you grabbed a glass of water, sipping slowly as you leaned against the counter, your mind still racing. the stillness of the night only amplified the ache in your chest. you hated going to bed angry with quinn, and this was no exception.

the sound of soft footsteps broke your thoughts. you turned your head to see quinn leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. his hair messy from tossing and turning, his tired eyes meeting yours. he wore a simple black t-shirt and sweats, his shoulders slightly hunched as if weighed down by something unseen.

“hey. couldn’t sleep either?” he asked quietly, his voice raspier than usual.

you shook your head, taking another sip. “no.”

for a moment, silence stretched between you. he crossed the room, opening the fridge and pulling out a water bottle. he unscrewed the cap and took a sip, his eyes glancing at you briefly before flicking away.

you leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself, while he lingered by the table, his hands resting on its edge. the space between you felt impossibly large.

“about earlier…” he started, but his tone was cautious.

you shook your head, cutting him off. “quinn, i don’t want to fight right now. i’m tired.”

his jaw tightened, and you could see the effort he was putting into keeping his emotions in check. “i’m not trying to fight,” he said, his voice quieter now. “i just… i don’t like how we left things.”

you exhaled sharply, setting your glass down on the counter with more force than you intended. “neither do i, but we both said things we shouldn’t have, and now here we are, not sleeping and avoiding each other.”

quinn ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements. “you think i like this? i hate when we argue. i hate going to bed like this.”

“then maybe you shouldn’t have—” you stopped yourself, biting your lip to keep the words from spilling out. you didn’t want to make things worse, but the sting of his earlier comments still burned.

“shouldn’t have what?” he pressed, stepping closer. his tone wasn’t angry, just tired, like he genuinely wanted to understand.

you hesitated, looking down at the floor. “you shut me out, quinn. every time something’s wrong, you close off, and i’m left guessing. it feels like i’m fighting to get you to let me in, and tonight… tonight it just felt like you didn’t even want me to try.”

his expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “that’s not true,” he said quietly. “i’m just… i don’t always know how to deal with things, okay? and i know that’s not fair to you. i know i should’ve—”

“communicated?” you interrupted, your voice sharper than you intended. “yeah, you should’ve. instead, you snapped at me like i was the problem.”

quinn flinched, guilt flashing across his face. “you’re not the problem,” he said firmly. “you never are. i just… i had a bad day, and i took it out on you. that’s on me. i’m sorry.”

the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt your defenses start to crumble. you hated how easily he could disarm you with just a few words, but at the same time, you didn’t want to stay mad at him.

“i didn’t mean to push you,” you admitted softly. “i just… i worry about you, q. i hate seeing you like this and not knowing how to help.”

“i know,” he said, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. his hand hesitated before resting lightly on your arm. “and i’m sorry for making you feel like you can’t. i’ll try to do better, okay? i promise.”

you searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was the man you loved, tired and vulnerable, but trying.

“okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

the sincerity in his tone chipped away at the wall you’d built up over the evening. you bit your lip, crossing your arms over your chest. “i’m sorry too. i know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately.”

he let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “it’s not an excuse, though. i shouldn’t take it out on you.”

you nodded, the tension in your chest easing ever so slightly. “i just… i hate it when we fight. especially over stupid things.”

“me too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. he set the water bottle on the counter beside your glass. “i hate the way it feels—like this distance between us.”

you looked up at him, your eyes searching his. the vulnerability in his expression softened the last bit of anger you’d been holding onto. “me too. so much.” you murmured.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the quiet hum of the fridge filled the space, but the air between you felt lighter now. he reached out hesitantly, his hand brushing against yours where it rested on the counter. it was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes.

“let’s go back to bed,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

you nodded, letting him guide you back to the bedroom. the warmth of his hand in yours was comforting, and the tension that had once felt suffocating now seemed to dissipate with each step.

once back in bed, you slipped under the covers, your back turned to him out of habit more than anything else. you felt the mattress dip as he settled in beside you, and for a moment, the silence returned.

then, slowly, tentatively, you felt his arm snake around your waist. his body pressed gently against your back, his warmth enveloping you. it was an unspoken apology, a gesture that said more than words ever could.

“i love you,” he murmured into the darkness, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “i hate when we fight. i hate when there’s even a moment where it feels like we’re not okay.”

your chest tightened at his words, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. you turned slightly, just enough to look over your shoulder at him. his eyes were soft, his expression open and unguarded.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “even when we fight. even when i’m mad at you. i’ll always love you.”

a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. his arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

for a long moment, neither of you spoke. his hand rested lightly on your hip, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. it was such a small thing, but it carried a quiet kind of intimacy that made your heart ache.

“go to sleep,” he whispered against your skin, his voice low and soothing. “we’re okay. i promise.”

you nodded, closing your eyes as the steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a sense of peace. the warmth of his embrace, the weight of his arms around you, felt like home. and even though the remnants of the argument still lingered faintly in the back of your mind, you knew they would fade with time.

© amourquinn

[chukys-mouthguard]

oscar winning tears

featuring -> quinn hughes x female reader

genre -> angst, fluff

summary-> inspired by ‘oscar winning tears’ by raye

note -> thinking of this becoming a mini series possibly? If anyone would be interested?

“You’re fucking joking, are you kidding me?”

Quinn’s shouting echoed off the walls of your shared bedroom as he halted his packing. The news caught him off guard as you sat on the bed, arms wrapped around your legs as you held them tight to your chest. Feeling awful for what you’d told him, but you had no choice.

“I wish I was Quinn, but I just got the call an hour ago. I have no choice!”

Quinn let out a snarky laugh as he resumed packing his suitcase, shaking his head as he moved about the room.

“You do have a choice, you’ve had a choice since the day you met me y/n. This is going to be one of the biggest nights of my career, and you’re canceling on me for a meeting?”

“Yes Quinn, a meeting that happens to be one of the biggest in my career! Look, I’m sorry that I refuse to be some stay at home WAG that cooks and cleans the house all day while you’re the one off making money and having a career. But I just don’t understand why you can’t support me in my career like I support you?”

Quinn scoffed as he zipped the suitcase shut, “yeah, some supportive girlfriend you are! I gotta go.”

Pulling his bag from the bed he grabbed his wallet and phone from his dresser as he headed downstairs, his ride waiting to take him to the airport. You knew that it was best to let him go, when fights like this happened it was better to end it once one of you walked away. But you were less stubborn as Quinn, you hated the idea of walking away from one another after saying something hateful. Especially when one of you is about to get on a plane for several hours.

“Quinn, wait!”

Hurrying down the stairs you tried your best to stop him, but he was already loading his things into the car. As he closed the trunk he looked to you, as if waiting for whatever it was you had to say.

“I love you, I’m so proud of you.”

He made his way to the side of the car, climbing in, he didn’t say anything back. Your heart sinking in your chest, though you told yourself it’s just Quinn being Quinn. The sound of the window rolling down stopped you from heading back into the house, a stern look on Quinn’s face as he spoke, “Call you when I land,” and with that he was gone.

-

Quinn was nervous, you could tell by his body language as his fingers picked at the arm of the couch he was seated on. Impatiently awaiting the announcement this entire night centered around for him. How you wished you could have been there. To hold his hand and keep him calm, to reassure him that whether he won or lost you still loved him and were so incredibly proud of him. But alas work had other plans, and you were left to watch from home on the couch with the rest of the world.

“And the winner of the James Norris Memorial Trophy is…”

You could feel your heart in your throat as you crossed your fingers, praying that his name would be called. The calm look on his face was simply a facade as you knew Quinn was probably laced with anxiety inside. His brothers beside him surely were doing the same as you, rooting for him as they always did.

“From the Vancouver Canucks, Quinn Hughes!”

“Yes!”

Your cheers echoed throughout the house as you jumped off the couch, clapping and cheering as you watched Quinn take the stage. You knew it was nothing to get emotional over, but you couldn’t help but shed a tear. Only a few people knew how hard he worked behind closed doors. What he went through day in and day out to be one of the top defenseman in the NHL. And now he could truly say, he was the top defenseman.

Thinking back to the argument the two of you had a few days ago, you started to question if Quinn was right. Despite always telling yourself that you wouldn’t give up your career for the typical WAG stay at home lifestyle, you were thinking of all the moments you could potentially be missing.

Though the NHL awards weren’t the biggest night in Quinn’s career, next it could be the Stanley Cup Final you’d be missing. And simply the idea of missing such a night for Quinn, you couldn’t imagine it. Though Quinn tries to respect your desire for your own career, you know he keeps a lot of his thoughts to himself. But after the last argument, you knew that it was getting harder and harder for him to keep those quiet.

-

“Baby?”

You heard Quinn’s voice echo throughout the house, followed by the sound of him setting down his bags. Quickly you hurried to put the finishing touches on your surprise dinner, the last step being to pour some of his favorite wine.

Just as you’d replaced the cork and set the bottle down Quinn turned the corner, a soft smile on his face as he looked over the candlelit dinner you’d prepared. He let out a sigh as he walked over to you, arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you close.

Taking in the scent of your perfume he loved so much, his hand tracing up and down your back as he took his time appreciating your body in his embrace. Making sure you knew how much he missed you as he pulled back to steal a kiss from you.

“Hi.”

“Hi babe.”

You smiled up at him, slightly giggling as you could see how well you pulled off your surprise by the look on his face. He helped you into your seat at the dining table before taking his own.

“So, what is all this about?”

His eyes scanned the table as you took your glass in hand, holding it out for him to cheers you.

“Like you have to ask Mr. Norris Trophy Winner!”

He rolled his eyes embarrassed as he raised his glass, then pulled it to his lips to take a sip.

“Yeah yeah, I know you didn’t do all of this just for me winning that trophy babe.”

His tone caught you a bit off guard, though appreciative it also seemed laced with sarcasm and assumption.

“Really Quinn? Why can’t I do something nice for you? I mean, you want me to be this stay at home type. Cooking dinner, having the house clean for you when you come home. This is what you want right? And now I’m being criticized for it.”

Quinn immediately regretted his comments, not meaning them to come across the way they did. He just wasn’t used to surprise dinners from you, with work usually holding you up at the office and dinner not a common occurrence, Quinn couldn’t help but feel there was more to the act than just a simple dinner. But he certainly didn’t mean to accuse you of buttering him up.

“I’m sorry, honest. I didn’t mean, I just. You’re right, you aren’t this type of girl to surprise me with dinner on the table. And I didn’t think me winning that trophy was enough reason to become that type of girl. So, for that I am sorry.”

He took your hand in his as you tried to let your frustrations subside, not noticing the tears in your eyes until Quinn reached out to wipe one away.

“I’m sorry Quinn.”

“You’re sorry? For what babe?”

Trying to laugh off your emotions, you simply wiped your tears as you served some salad onto Quinn’s plate.

“I just, I thought about that argument we had. And I think that maybe you’re right. Maybe I should consider giving up my job. I’d be able to do things like this more, come to more games, be at award ceremonies and sit next to you and support you. I can’t do that now, and you deserve so much more than that. So I’m sorry, but I’ll figure something out and try to be better.”

Quinn grabbed your wrist and stopped your anxious serving of food, taking the tongs and bowl of salad from you. Setting them down on the table with a sigh as he could tell how much the argument affected you.

“Baby, please. I love you just the way you are. You don’t need to be better, you’re perfect. I’m a dick for ever telling you that your career isn’t important, or for making you think you needed to give that up for me. Would it be nice to have you around more? Of course! But I don’t want you to sacrifice all of that for me, this should be a compromise. And I can let my emotions or frustrations relax a bit when it comes to your schedule. It’s not like the extra stress on you is at all necessary, work puts you through the ringer as it is.”

Nodding your head in agreement, you tried your best to take what Quinn said as facts, but you knew deep down he hated your work schedule. He hated how often you missed games, or how many nights you spent late at the office missing the opportunity for dinner with him at home. Despite him telling you that your career wasn’t an issue, you couldn’t help but feel like he’d be better off with a typical WAG that stuck to social media or was something more flexible like an influencer.

“Quinn, I hear you, I do. But, maybe you’re just trying to justify things. I know you’d prefer it to be different, and, I’m willing to sacrifice because I love you and I-“

“Don’t you have a big work event coming up?”

“What?”

The question caught you off guard, work wasn’t something Quinn ever asked much about, so you weren’t sure how to respond.

“There’s like a big party or something coming up?”

“Oh, yeah, our company gala. It’s basically to recognize the success of the company over the last year and stuff. Why?”

“You’re being recognized right?”

Quinn laughed at your confused stare, wondering why you thought him being interested in your work was so wrong.

“Can I go?”

“Y-you wanna go?”

“Of course! I don’t think I’ve ever been able to go before, and I wanna support you just as you do for me! I promise I’ll prove to you that you don’t have to be some stay at home trophy WAG for me, okay?”

[cyberhughes]

congrats on 200 again!! i hope soon you’ll be able to add an extra zero to that 🤞

can i request a quinn hughes (duh) angst with prompt #16

i can’t wait to see what u cook up 👩🏻‍🍳

ps i better be crying after reading or u failed 😢

cyberhughes 200 follower special ⋆ .˚

rum & coke coming up!!

prompt #16: "would i lie to you?"

warnings: angst angst angst...mentions of sex but it's not very descriptive

isaaaa i love you. i INSTANTLY knew what to write w this one i had to pause writing what was in my drafts cause this one was STUCK on my brain. i hope it's as gut wrenching as you hoped it'd be :p

ps…for the extra heartbreak listen to chemtrails over the country club by lana del rey. you’re welcome

prompt list

quinn had been distant these past few weeks, so distant it had felt like you were living alone. you'd only see him in passing, a quick morning kiss as he left for practice while you sat alone, eating the breakfast you had prepared for the two of you, but of course he needed to leave early. you'd often find yourself going to bed alone, waking up in the late hours of the night to see his back turned towards you, your body cold from the absence of his touch.

it felt like he was sailing away, leaving you stranded on an island alone, and you didn't know how to call him back.

you thought that maybe it was your fault, had you gotten too comfortable in your relationship? you didn't find yourself doing your makeup or dressing up as much, and maybe he wanted to be able to show off instead of having to hide you. maybe you would just have to show him that you were still the same girl you were when you met him.

and so, for the whole afternoon you had spent your time cooking a homemade dinner. you didn't cook anything too extravagant often, but you needed this to be special. you had called your mom for her recipes, listening to her guidance as you carefully crafted your meal.

everything was set up strategically on the table, you had pulled out a tablecloth that you never used, gone out and bought a few candles for ambiance. you loosely tied your hair up, and put on a simple red dress that was growing lonely in your closet, the same dress you had worn when you met quinn that night at the bar.

now all there was to do, was wait.

you read a few chapters of your book, scrolled through pinterest, walked around your apartment, organizing things that had already been organized a hundred times.

8:00 pm.

he was supposed to be home around 6, but you brushed it off. you made a million excuses for him in your head, maybe there was traffic, maybe he needed to have an emergency meeting with his teammates. but nothing you came up with could ease the feeling in your gut.

the food was already cold, and the candles had been burning too long, and you thought that maybe you'd be spending the night without the feeling of his arms around you yet again.

just as you stood up to start putting the food away you heard the lock click.

you stood frozen as you watched him walk in. his eyes were tired, his mouth fixed in a slight frown. taking his keys out of the lock, he looked up to the display.

"y/n..." he spoke your name, barely above a whisper as you walked toward him.

"i made you dinner." your voice was shaky as you tried to prevent yourself from crying, you didn't know why you would cry, he was home now.

"you didn't have to do this." he sighed, feeling exhausted from his long day. you helped him take his jacket off, fingers lingering on him before you moved to hang it up. you didn't reply, unsure of what to say. "you should have just started eating without me." he said and you bit your lip, unsure of how to reply.

he noticed the way your eyes were glassy from the tears that formed and he exhaled, "i'm sorry. i didn't mean anything by that. thank you, y/n." but you knew what he meant. he didn't want to have to entertain you after a stressful day.

neither of you spoke as you ate, you simply sat there feeling the tension grow stronger, and your heart break into more pieces.

"why were you late?" you asked mindlessly, toying with the salad on your plate. he shook his head, "bunch of media stuff." you knew he was lying of course, he always poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue when he lied.

you nodded as you stared intensely at the food on your plate. you were sure that if you took another bite you might throw up.

"is there someone else?" you asked quietly, but he could barely hear you. "what was that?" he took a bite of pasta into his mouth, not looking at you once.

"is there someone else?" you voice cracked and he finally looked at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he swallowed his bite. "what?" you hated the way he was looking at you, like you were on the verge of uncovering something you didn't truly want to know. "no, no there isn't y/n, why would you even say that?"

you took a deep breath, "you...you're never home. you never tell me you love me anymore." a tear fell down your cheek and you quickly wiped it away, not wanting to seem pathetic. he closed his eyes and sighed, processing what you were saying.

you watched as he stood up from his seat, moving towards you and kneeling down, taking your hands in his, a feeling of comfort you hadn't felt in a while.

he tilted his head to the right, "would i lie to you?" he stared into your eyes with ruth.

maybe you had overreacted. he had an insane career, of course his schedule would be busy.

"no, you wouldn't. i'm sorry quinn." you let another tear fall and he swiped it away, thumb caressing your cheek and you leaned into his touch. "don't be sorry, how about we just go to bed, hm?" he suggested and you nodded, letting him lead you to bed.

you savored the way his fingers felt on your skin as he helped you out of your dress, taking your hair down and moving it to the side and he pressed kisses along your neck. you felt your heart tighten at the feeling, it had been too long since he lingered on you like this.

maybe things were going back to normal.

after that night, he had made it a point to have more meaningful interactions with you. staying a bit later to eat breakfast with you, cuddling with you on the couch as you watched your show, trailing kisses up your thighs as he got closer to your core, wanting to show you that he still loved you.

everything had gone back to normal.

your boss had let you off work early one day, so you decided to pick up a pizza from his favorite place to surprise him. you felt giddy as you drove home, excited to hear about his day and feel his lips on yours.

your steps were quick walked up to your apartment, nearly tripping up the stairs in excitement. you tried to open the door quietly, not wanting him to know you had gotten home just yet. you pushed the door open, feeling it caught on something. you squeezed through the small gap, looking down to see what had blocked it.

you furrowed your brows in confusion.

you don't remember owning a pair of red heels like that.

you placed the pizza down on the counter gently, feeling the unease in your stomach grow as you called out his name, not receiving another answer.

you crept to your bedroom, hearing some shuffling. the door had been cracked open slightly and you peeked inside, not yet opening it.

you slapped a hand over your mouth at the sight in front of you, feeling like you had just been stabbed in the heart by your own lover.

there he was, balls deep in some other girl, whispering words of affection you had never heard from him before. you couldn't take your eyes away as you watched the way he fucked her with more passion than you had ever seen from him.

"quinn..." he groaned at the way she moaned his name, nipping at her neck. "promise you're gonna leave her?" he laughed at her words, picking up the pace of his hips as he spoke into her ear,

"would i lie to you?"

[puckinghischier]

What do you think Quinn would do for a grand gesture when he was missing his girl?

seeing as he’s a sentimental sort, considering the gift he gave luke, i know he’d do something so over the top in the best way.

he’d already have bought you every long distance gadget in existence. the bracelets that vibrate when you touch them to let the other person know you’re thinking of them. the smart fridge he can leave notes from his phone on for you to wake up to in the morning. the lamp that glows a certain color when the other person misses you. the iphone widget he can draw pictures of flowers on before the real thing is delivered to your door.

he’d make sure he had every opportunity to make sure you knew he was thinking about you, even when he’s busy and on the road. sometimes a message or a vibration from a bracelet is all he had time for, but it was enough for you.

for him? nothing could ever replace being in your presence. he needed to see you, touch you, hear your voice. this past season had been rough. being away from you for so long, he was miserable. he found himself being distracted by thoughts of when he could get back home to you during practice or while warming up for a game. he was rushing post game media so he could call you before you fell asleep. he was skipping team bonding to facetime you and catch up on your day.

so, he started putting a plan into motion. he hoped it wouldn’t scare you off or freak you out, but he was too deep into it now to back out.

you had noticed he’d been spending a lot of time on the phone with his agent lately, assuming it was some negotiation for a brand or sponsorship. you knew it couldn’t have anything to do with his spot on the canucks, both the team and quinn loving the other too much to part ways.

but he started acting weird. he started being jumpy when you’d ask him about his conversations with his agent, curious as to what’s taking up so much of his time lately.

“just contract stuff. you know, i have to renew it soon and there’s all kinds of stuff that goes into that. brad’s just trying to get me the best bang for my buck,” he’d nervously chuckle, changing the subject quickly.

you were cleaning up the kitchen one day after making lunch, quinn having had to go to the rink for some kind of business meeting, he told you. you hear the door open and his keys fall into the bowl on the dining room table, a soft call of your name ringing through the space.

he walks into the kitchen to find you finishing up the last few dishes, making small talk until you’re finished and join him over at the end of the long island.

“whatcha got there, q?” you question curiously, noticing how he hasn’t let go of the paper once since walking through the door.

“oh, this? well, we need to talk about it, actually.” his nervous tone makes you nervous, worried about what’s on the piece of official looking paper.

“okay…” you trail off, not enjoying the nervous energy engulfing the room.

he clears his throat, running his fingers along the edges of the paper repeatedly, forcing himself to keep looking you in the eyes.

“so, you know how i bought you all those things to let you know i’m thinking of you when i’m not on the road? the bracelet, the lamp, the new fridge, the flowers and notes?” he lists off all the heartfelt things he’s given you over the course of your relationship, a smile taking over your face as you nod at him.

the smile on your face gives him a bit more confidence, more sure of his decision than he was just a few moments ago.

“okay, well, i can’t do that anymore. those bracelets? the lamp? the messages on the fridge? they’re not enough. they’re not cutting it anymore.”

your heart sinks. what does he mean it’s not enough? if it’s enough for you, why isn’t it enough for him? he’s the one that’s gone all the time. you’re the one who has to stay here and wait for him to come back. is this paper a new lease? is he kicking you out? breaking up with you?

you take a step back from him, your head filling with all kinds of negative thoughts as to what’s on that paper in his hand.

“quinn, i-i don’t understand. what do you mean-“

“please, just let me finish. i need to get this out and then you can ask me all the questions you want. and yell at me, if you feel the need,” he interrupts you, putting a hand up in between the two of you.

your mouth snaps shut, tears threatening to spill any second.

“like i said, the superficial stuff just isn’t enough anymore. if i can’t have you with me all the time, i don’t know if i can keep doing this. all of this. it’s killing me. i know it’s my fault i’m gone, but my god i miss you so much it hurts me,” he continues his speech, not picking up on the shake in your hands.

“quinn, you don’t have to do this. we can…figure something else out. i miss you too when you’re gone. so much,” your shaky voice tries to reason with him, not wanting to hear him say the words out loud.

he holds a hand up to silence you, effectively stopping your words.

“my mind’s already made up. already signed my name and everything, even if brad did think i was crazy,” quinn keeps going, confusing you even more.

what did his agent have to do with him breaking up with you and kicking you off of the lease you just signed together?

you don’t have time to ask him, because he lays the paper in front of you, sliding it towards you. “here, just read it for yourself.”

you pick up the thick paper, noting the canucks emblem stamped into the top of the document, your eyes falling to the long paragraphs taking up the majority of the page.

there’s one section that’s highlighted, marked to stand out specifically for your eyes.

“the canucks organization, in agreement with quintin j. hughes, hereby provides transportation, accommodations, and admission to 10 (ten) away games of his choice during regular season hockey, and every meeting of post-season playoffs if necessary, to one person of his choice, contingent of his reporting to canucks sponsored activities such as: games, practice, training camps….”

it takes your brain a few moments to catch up to what you’re reading.

he…rewrote his contract for you. he, somehow, convinced an entire organization to write into his contract a clause to be able to take you with him to games during the season. you look up at him, his nervous stare meeting your eyes.

you start laughing.

quinn was nervous for a lot of things. he was worried you’d freak out and say he was crazy for this. he was worried you’d be mad at him and tell him you didn’t want to go on road trips with him. he didn’t know if you’d cry or jump with joy or walk out on him.

but he never expected you to laugh at him.

you can’t control your laughter. you try, but it just keeps coming, every attempt at containing it only making you laugh harder.

“i don’t understand. what’s so funny here?” quinn manages the courage to ask, voice shaky and embarrassed.

you manage to calm your fit enough to gain a fraction of decorum back, taking a few deep breaths before responding.

“quinn, i thought you were breaking up with me.”

quinn’s eyes widen, not expecting the words out of your mouth at all.

“no, i- why would you think that?” he rushes out, walking towards you.

you wipe the tears from your eyes, trying to calm yourself even further.

“well, i don’t know. the way you worded it had me convinced you were bringing me a new lease you’d signed without my name on it or something. thought you were kicking me out,” you chuckle only slightly at the end of your explanation.

quinn grabs your face in his calloused hands, gently forcing you to look at him.

“i hope you know, i would never break up with you. not by kicking you out of the apartment, much less. if anything you’d be the one kicking me out.”

“well i sure hope not. according to your contract, we have eight more years of roadies in our future. think those accommodations would be real awkward if you kicked me out. wonder if petey would let me bunk with him?”