My Boys

I don't even want to watch tonights game

we're 100% cooked

you tried oilers

Pls write something about Quinn and casual dominance w reader 🥲🥲 makes me feral

a/n: OH MY GOD YES!

summary: Here are four times Quinn Hughes has embodied casual dominance.

1. Quinn walked into the apartment, dropping his bag by the door with a soft thud, his hand scrubbing over his face in exhaustion. His game that night had been intense from the first moment of the first period, but stepping into your shared home, all the tension seemed to melt away as the warmth engulfed him.

You were curled up on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies, legs tucked beneath you as you scrolled through your phone. You glanced up as he walked in, a soft smile immediately spreading across your face, eyes lighting up.

"Hey, you're home," you greeted, setting your phone aside and kneeling on the plush of the couch to face him.

"Yeah," he nodded, his voice a little hoarse from shouting on the ice. He walked over to you, resting one hand on the back of the couch and the other under your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his eyes. "Miss me?"

You nodded earnestly, the way his touch lingered on your skin sending a spark through you running right down to your core.

Quinn always had this way of being in control without even trying. Just the way he looked at you, or touched you, made you feel like you were exactly where you belonged, in his arms, protected and loved by him.

"Good," he murmured, before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He lingered there, pulling back just enough to let his warm breath fan over your skin as his nose bumped affectionately off of yours. "I'm starving. You've eaten already, right?"

"I was waiting for you," You shook your head, smiling a little sheepishly, chin ducking down to your chest.

"I thought we spoke about this a few weeks ago," Quinn raised an eyebrow, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip. "You don't have to wait on me, you know that."

"I know," you whispered, your heart skipping at the gentle reprimand laced in his voice. He wasn't mad, Quinn never really got mad at you, one look in your eyes had him crumbling, but there was something in the way he spoke that let you know he expected more from you. "Just wanted to spend time with you."

There was a moment of quiet as Quinn huffed out a small breath, eyes softening.

"Good girl for being honest," he quietly smiled, giving your chin a soft squeeze before straightening up. "But I need you to eat when you’re hungry…C'mon, let's get you something to eat."

—

2.

You sat across from Quinn at the kitchen table, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, your bowl of multicoloured cereal left untouched while he ate what you called his 'crunchy-mom' breakfast.

He let his eyes linger on you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as you continue to type away, distracted.

In a swift move, Quinn reached over and placed his hand atop of your phone, gently lowering it until it was set down on the table. You blinked up at him in surprise, your mind hazy as you glanced down at the phone he had then switched off.

"Quinn—" you began before he cut you off with a small shake of his head.

"Eyes on me," he spoke firmly, but there's no harshness in his tone. It's more of a command, one you instinctively want to follow. His gaze locks onto yours, calm but unwavering. "You need breakfast."

Your breath catches for a second, the look in his eyes almost drowning you. You sigh with a playful roll of your eyes, feeling your pulse quicken as you lean back in your chair.

"Okay," you spoke softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

"That's better," Quinn replied, his voice low and approving. He continued eating, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, but you couldn't help but feel a small thrill from how easily he took control of the situation.

"And don't think I didn't see you roll your eyes, pretty girl..."

—

3.

You ran a stressed hand through your tangled hair, tears pricking in your eyes as you slumped onto the floor.

You'd been tasked with getting ready for a night out with Quinn for the Canucks and you struggled to decide what to wear.

What if you dressed too fancy? Too causal? Too grandma-like? Too slutty?

Clothes were scattered all over the bed and floor as your frustration built with each passing second. You buried your face in your palms, face hot and screwed up.

You heard the soft patter of Quinn walking in, along with the pause of his steps as you presumed he took the chaotic scene in.

Without missing a beat, he crouched in front of you, placing his hands on either side of your face, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you to a stop.

"Hey," he began softly, his voice calm, but there was a firmness that immediately made you pause. "Look at me."

You did, your breath coming in short, anxious bursts. Quinn's hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he forced you to focus on him.

"Breathe," he commanded, his thumbs still brushing softly over your skin. You did as he said, taking a deep breath in, and he nodded in approval. 

"Stop," he softly murmured, yet an authoritarian tone was laced through his tone. "You're overthinking again."

You sigh, leaning forward into his chest, as his arms immediately enveloped you.

"I don't know what to wear," you shyly admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed as you nuzzled your head into his chest.

Quinn chuckled quietly, his hand gently smoothing over your hair before he pulled away and stood up, eyeing the pile of clothes on the bed. Your reddened eyes follow his every move as his eyebrows knit together in thought.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured, glancing back at you. "I'll pick something for you."

You watched as he casually sorted through your various options before he pulled out a black dress you hadn't even begun to consider an option. Seemingly satisfied, he held it up, giving you a small nod.

"Wear this one," he advised, hanging it up in the en-suite for you. "You look stunning in it and I'm wearing all black."

You smile, your hand slipping into his outstretched palm allowing him to gently pull you up off the floor.

Your head buried itself in his chest once more, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he encircled your waist, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

—

4.

The room was crowded, full of voices and laughter, and you could feel the anxiety rising in your chest. It was one of those nights where everything you wore tore at your skin and everything reaching your ears was simply too overwhelming, leaving you to shrink inward, trying to find a place to breathe.

Quinn noticed immediately.

He had a knack for sensing when you were feeling off, even in the middle of such a busy event. You were standing by the bar, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress when he appeared beside you.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low so that only you could hear. His hand found the small of your back.

"I just...there's so many people," you admitted, your voice barely audible above the crowd. "It's a lot."

Quinn nodded, understanding instantly and without missing a beat, he turned you towards him, his body shielding you from the rest of the room.

"Look at me," he instructed softly, his hand coming up to tilt your chin so that you met his warm, eyes. "You're with me," he reminded you, his thumb brushing lightly across your jaw. "Focus on me, okay? No one else matters right now."

The rest of the room dimmed as Quinn filled all of your senses as he guided your hand into his, squeezing it gently.

"Breathe in and out for me, nice and slowly," he murmured, his voice calm as you stiffly nodded.

You did as he said, feeling your heartbeat slow as you focused on the warmth of his hand in yours, the solid feel of him standing so close.

"Better?" he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded, feeling the anxiety that had been bubbling inside you begin to ease. Quinn leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his hand still tight in yours.

"Good," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "If you need a break, just say the word and we can go get some air."

I'm so freaked out man

please don't lose

Oil please win

Actually dying of stress

He’s always doing something

most normal gene moment

Alright, okay | Vancouver Canucks vs Blues Jan 27th | Quinn Hughes

Chat Prime is cursed!

I watch in my bed we lose

I watch in my living room we get scored on super early

What do I dooooo

I never skip games

Me when I see Seth

my man my man my man

Davo ate that

I can't believe we just pulled that off

I thought for sure we were done

My awkward boy

Q: Luke, when you look at that last game -

Luke: *accidentally tosses hoodie sleeve on top of head* *tries to play it cool, proceeds to knock other reporter’s mic*