Feb 15
See no difference (affectionately)
seen from France
seen from South Korea
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
See no difference (affectionately)
Wear Out My Name - Quinn Hughes
Summary: Quinn loves hearing y/n say his name for any reason, because he loves that she needs him so openly and doesn't shy from it. Even if she's mad, he just loves his name in her voice.
Author note: sort of a request for more of the youngest sibling!reader from @lilmoonily03
Themes/warnings: Smut, pretty much brat!reader
Quinn Hughes x youngest sibling!reader
Word count: 1.8k
Can I request a lil hurt/comfort #14 where player for the other team chirps to Quinn about gf!reader and Quinn goes feral, gf!reader is worried & panicked afterwards, Quinn reassuring 💕
i’m literally a sucker for a good “touch her, i’ll end you” trope so i absolutely love this request! thank you lovey💗
after a hard push, the canucks finally win in shootout with a 5-4 win, hence why the team decided it would be nice to go out and celebrate the win and wind down for the night.
by the time you all ended up at the bar, the adrenaline still hadn’t worn off. brock was halfway through telling a dramatic retelling of the overtime shift while elias was nodding along amused as if he didn’t just play alongside with him on the same line. nils and conor were arguing about who owed who a drink while thatcher somehow managed to keep up with every conversation at once, chiming in here and there.
quinn kept you tucked under his arm, fingers tracing small circles along your waist. every so often he’d lean down and press a kiss to your temple. you were mid laugh at something brock said when loud voices and laughter bursts through the front doors of the bar.
Smile, Dada
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Reader
Word Count: 1081
Request open!
24 days of Christmas | Hockey Masterlist
The front door shuts harder than it needs to.
You flinch a little from where you’re sitting on the living room floor, surrounded by blocks, plush animals, and a very determined toddler who’s trying to stack three pieces that absolutely do not want to cooperate.
“Careful, baby,” you murmur. “Daddy’s home.”
Heavy footsteps move through the hallway. Quinn doesn’t say anything. No usual Hey or I’m home. Just the sound of keys hitting the counter a little too forcefully, followed by a sharp exhale.
Your son looks up immediately.
“Da?” he says, blinking wide eyes in the direction of the hallway.
“Yes,” you say softly. “Dada’s home.”
The little boy pushes himself up onto wobbly legs, blocks forgotten. He toddles forward with that unsteady confidence toddlers have, arms slightly out for balance.
“Da-da!” he calls louder.
Quinn appears in the doorway, jacket still on, shoulders tense, jaw clenched so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t hurt him.
“Hey, buddy,” he says, voice low.
Your son beams like Quinn hung the moon.
“Da-da!” he repeats, launching himself forward.
Quinn barely has time to react before small hands grab onto his pant leg. He freezes for half a second, then sighs and crouches down.
“Hey,” he says again, softer this time. “Hi.”
Your son reaches up with both hands, grabbing Quinn’s face the way toddlers do,completely ungraceful, thumbs dangerously close to eyeballs.
“Careful,” you warn gently.
Quinn doesn’t stop him.
The boy squishes Quinn’s cheeks between his palms, studying his face with serious concentration.
“Dada,” he says slowly.
Quinn swallows. “Yeah, buddy?”
“Smile.”
The word comes out more like smi’, but it lands like a punch to the chest.
Quinn’s eyes sting immediately. He laughs once, breathless and broken.
“Hey,” he murmurs. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
The toddler frowns, clearly unhappy with the lack of smile. He presses his palms harder into Quinn’s cheeks.
“Smile,” he insists again.
You watch as Quinn’s face crumbles just a little.
“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay.”
He forces a smile,not perfect, not convincing, but real enough. The toddler lights up.
“Yay!” he cheers, clapping once before immediately losing balance.
Quinn catches him instinctively, pulling him into his chest.
“There we go,” Quinn murmurs, holding him tight. “Got you.”
You stand slowly, arms crossing over your chest, heart aching in that familiar way it does when you see how much they love each other.
Quinn presses his face into the top of your son’s head.
“I had a bad day,” he says quietly, like he’s confessing to a priest.
Your son pats his cheek again, gentle now.
“Bad?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Quinn admits. “Really bad.”
The toddler thinks about this.
“Snack?” he offers.
You laugh softly. “He means you should eat.”
Quinn huffs out a breath. “He’s smarter than me.”
You move closer. “Want to sit?”
Quinn nods and lowers himself onto the couch, settling your son on his lap. The little boy immediately gets comfortable, leaning back against Quinn’s chest like that’s exactly where he belongs.
Quinn stares ahead for a moment, arms wrapped tight around him.
“They made it official today,” he says. “Press conference. Jerseys. Smiles. All that bullshit.”
You sit beside him. “How was it?”
He snorts. “How do you think?”
“They talked about Minnesota like it’s some dream destination,” he continues bitterly. “‘A great opportunity.’ ‘A fresh start.’”
Your son pokes Quinn’s chin.
“Beard,” he announces proudly.
Quinn chuckles despite himself. “Yeah. Beard.”
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye properly,” Quinn says. “To the guys. To the staff. To the city.”
You place a hand on his knee. “I know.”
“They took something from me,” he says. “Something I built.”
Your son wiggles, turning to face Quinn fully. He grabs Quinn’s nose this time.
“Dada sad,” he says matter-of-factly.
Quinn blinks. “Am I that obvious?”
“Sad,” the toddler repeats, nodding.
Quinn exhales, forehead pressing gently against his son’s.
“Yeah,” he admits. “I am.”
The little boy considers this deeply.
Then he leans forward and presses a sloppy kiss to Quinn’s cheek.
It’s wet. It’s messy. It’s perfect.
“There,” the toddler says proudly.
You watch Quinn’s eyes finally spill over.
“Oh,” he breathes, voice breaking. “Okay. That did it.”
He pulls his son into a tight hug, face buried in his hair.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
Your son wraps his arms around Quinn’s neck as best as he can.
“Mine,” he says.
Quinn laughs through his tears. “Yeah. Yours.”
You rub Quinn’s back. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”
Quinn looks up at you. “I was so angry on the drive home.”
“I could tell.”
“I wanted to scream,” he admits. “I wanted to punch something.”
Your son pats his chest.
“No punch,” he says seriously.
Quinn smiles. “No punch. Promise.”
You stand and reach for the toddler. “Come on, baby. Let dada breathe for a second.”
Your son protests immediately.
“No! Dada!”
Quinn chuckles and kisses his temple. “I’m okay, buddy.”
He lets you take him, though the toddler keeps one hand stretched toward Quinn like he’s worried he might disappear.
You settle the little boy on your hip.
“Dinner?” you ask Quinn.
“Yeah,” he nods. “I think I need that.”
As you move into the kitchen, your son keeps talking over your shoulder.
“Dada smile,” he says again.
“I’m trying,” Quinn replies, following you. “You’re helping.”
You plate dinner while Quinn leans against the counter, watching you and your son.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky,” he murmurs.
“With us?” you ask.
“With him,” he corrects, smiling softly at your son. “With you.”
You glance at him. “You’re allowed to be angry, you know.”
“I know,” he says. “But then he looks at me like that, and it feels smaller.”
After dinner, Quinn carries your son to bed.
“Story,” the toddler demands.
“Of course,” Quinn says. “What story?”
“Dada.”
Quinn laughs. “That’s not a story.”
“Dada hero,” the toddler insists.
Quinn freezes for half a second, then nods.
“Okay,” he says quietly. “Dada hero.”
He tucks your son in, voice gentle as he starts talking about a hero who travels far but always comes home.
When Quinn comes back out, he looks tired,but calmer.
“Thank you,” he says to you.
“For what?”
“For reminding me what matters.”
You step into his arms.
“Anytime,” you say.
From the bedroom, a small voice calls out:
“Dada?”
Quinn answers immediately. “Yeah, buddy?”
“Smile,” the voice says, sleepy now.
Quinn closes his eyes, smiling for real this time.
“I am.”
what do you mean quinn hughes isn’t a canuck and mitch marner isn’t a leaf and brad marchand isn’t a bruin and mikko rantanen isn’t an av and
PENALTY BOX
requested: yes | req: reader and quinn have an older boy (maybe 6 or 7) and a daughter who’s like 3 or 4, and they’re all mic’d up for the playoffs last season when the canucks made it. quinn makes a little penalty box for the kids.
pair: dad!quinn hughes x mom!reader ; quinn hughes x f!reader
genre: pure fluff, family feels, humor
warnings: dangerous levels of adorableness, toddler speech that will destroy you, quinn hughes being the softest husband/dad alive
summary: it’s game 3 of the second round, canucks vs. oilers, and the team decides to mic’d up quinn for a playoff feature. then someone has the brilliant (or insane) idea to wire the kids too. so now you, your seven-year-old hockey genius finn, and your three-year-old hype-girl fiora are live for the entire arena and internet to hear. there’s a homemade penalty box in the family suite made of office chairs and painter’s tape, nonstop commentary from two tiny super-fans who think their dad is basically a superhero, and quinn trying to play elite playoff hockey while melting everytime his babies yell ‘daddy zoom!’ or ‘that’s my dad!.’
fia’s note: this request was originally from my banned user @mattrempeswife. it was already halfway done, so i just copied and pasted it here to post for you guys to read. i hope you enjoy it, truly and of course if anyone wants to yap about hockey, the hughes brothers, will smith, or literally anything at all, you are very much welcome. i mean it, come scream, ramble, cry, laugh, whatever. tbh i’ll talk about anything. oh and, if you guys ever want another part maybe something where quinn finds out you’re pregnant again and this time it’s a girl, just say the word. 🫶
tagging team fia ! — @fallinallincurls @dancerbailey3 @falsehood-03 @mashmashi @hopefulsuitcasemoneyzonk @kell9rs @alwaysclassyeagle @nokiaholland @macka @smiley-roos @silvenyy @bd147ms @voidvannie @itsonlyaddi @ruinix @when-im-with-you @puckinghughes @definitelynotdomanique @quinnintheabyss
fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | yap & fic
chapter one: lost and found
a hockey player's guide to fatherhood ≔
a quinn hughes x single!mom reader series 🏒🖤
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WARNINGS: cussing, kid gets lost, stressed reader
a/n: thanks for the amount of love that this has recieved so far on the masterlist!!! :) hope you guys enjoy this
Can’t believe I took these
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