𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞
𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗻 𝗛𝘂𝗴𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝘅 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿
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The bell over the café door chimed the same way it had two years ago, when Quinn Hughes had stumbled in half-awake, juggling too many things at once and promptly spilled an entire latte down the front of your sweater.
“Careful, babe,” you teased as he held the door for you now, the winter air brushing past your shoulders. “Wouldn’t want a repeat.”
Quinn’s cheeks went pink. “I said I was sorry like… fifty times.”
“Fifty-seven,” you corrected, bumping his shoulder as you stepped inside.
The café always looked exactly the same—warm lights, wood tables, the smell of espresso and cinnamon baked into the walls, the only difference was the small Christmas decorations. The same barista who had witnessed Quinn’s mortification that morning glanced up and winked.
Quinn’s hand found yours, fingers threading through like it was instinct.
“Feels weird, right?” he murmured. “Coming back here today.”
“Weird good,” you said.
He led you to the same small table near the window, the one he insisted on wiping frantically with napkins two years ago while apologizing in a frantic rush, accidentally introducing himself halfway through the panic.
You sat, watching him as walked over to the counter, and before the hockey captain could get a word out, the barista held out your orders. Quinn glances up at the guy who just shrugged and said, “The two of you come here a lot.” Before turning away and continuing his cleaning.
Quinn walks back your table, just as you set your phone down “So…” he said, sliding a cup toward you.
Your usual order.
Steam curled above the top in a soft white swirl.
“He remembered our orders,” you teased.
“Yeah… took me by surprise though.”
You blew on your drink, cheeks warming. “Still sweet though.”
Quinn pulled out something small from his jacket pocket. Not a ring box—because that wasn’t the plan for today, or so you thought,—a familiar-looking item wrapped in brown paper.
You raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
You peeled the paper back to reveal a navy-blue coffee sleeve, hand-stitched with tiny white thread. It said:
“Q ♥ Y/I — since the spill.”
Your breath hitched.
“Oh, Quinn…”
He shrugged shyly. “I just… y’know. Wanted something that matched the story. Since this stupid little place kinda started everything.”
“Not stupid,” you whispered, sliding your hand across the table to take his.
“Never stupid.”
He smiled softly—the kind of smile he only ever gave you, gentle and full and a little shy. He cleared his throat, and your attention snapped back to him.
“I, uh…” he started awkwardly. “I wanted today to be special.”
Your heart warmed. “It already is.”
He swallowed hard and reached into his coat pocket.
Not fast. Not dramatic.
Just Quinn—slow, nervous, deeply sincere.
“I come here all the time on my way to the rink,” he said quietly. “And every time, I look at that spot right there—” He pointed at the doorway where you’d first bumped into each other. “—and I think about how crazy it is that one dumb mistake became the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Your breath hitched.
“I mean, who spills coffee on their soulmate?” he said with a shaky laugh.
“Apparently you,” you whispered.
His eyes flicked up to yours—soft green, steady, overflowing with something warm and terrified and hopeful.
“And I know I’m not… loud like my brothers, or the most exciting guy in Vancouver, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”
Your chest tightened, heart thudding so hard you thought the whole café could hear it.
Then Quinn got up from his chair.
Walked around to your side.
And dropped to one knee.
The teenage girl, that was studying for her year end exams, gasped softly.
The older woman, who was knitting gifts for her family, whispered, “Oh, how lovely.”
The barista leaned forward with his chin propped on his hand like he’d been waiting for this.
But to the two of you, no one was around. Quinn opened a small velvet box, fingers trembling just a little.
“Since the day I spilled coffee on you,” he said, voice thick, “I’ve wanted every day after to be yours. And I want all my days to start and end with you. If you’ll let me.”
Tears blurred your vision instantly.
“Baby…” you whispered.
His voice broke.
“Will you marry me?”
You nodded before your brain even caught up.
“Yes—Quinn, yes, of course I will—”
You pulled him up so quickly he stumbled, arms wrapping around your waist as you buried your face in his neck. He laughed through a shaky breath, holding you tight, like if he let go for even a second you might disappear.
The barista clapped quietly, mumbling “Been waiting for this moment.”
The older woman dabbed at her eyes with a napkin as the two of you reminded her of her and her late husband.
The teenage girl snapped a picture whispered, “Oh my god, goals.”
Quinn slipped the ring onto your finger with careful, trembling hands. Then he cupped your cheeks and kissed you—soft and slow and overflowing with everything he didn’t say.
Outside, snow continued falling.
Inside, in the little coffee shop where your story began, a new chapter started.
Because here you were, two years later, sitting in the same place, with the same boy who spilled coffee on you…
Only now, he was the love of your life.
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couver.y/n From a coffee shop accident to forever with my favorite captain 💌 _quinnhughes
comments are limited
bboeser called it
trevorzegras awe he proposed… I honestly thought you would have to do it
jackhughes now wtf
canucks congrats Mr and Mrs 43
williamnylander congrats you two
lhughes_06 and mom said I would get marry first
nicohischier congratulations Hughes