Late Christmas Gift From Mom!

🙏🏽

i need to be sidney crosbys controversially young gf… maybe something for that… heh

my new fav concept, hope you enjoy!

It started with whispers.

The kind that curled around the edges of locker rooms and crept into post-game interviews, barely concealed behind tight-lipped smirks and knowing glances. The kind that made headlines in tabloids next to blurry photos of a dinner reservation that should have been private. The kind that weren’t unexpected, not when a 37-year-old hockey legend started dating a 21-year-old who had no business being in his world.

Sidney Crosby was used to the noise. He’d spent two decades as the face of a franchise, his every move dissected and debated. But this? This was different. This was personal.

And you—well, you were the subject of speculation, fascination, and, in some corners, outright disapproval. The girl too young, too fresh, too much of a contrast to the quiet, calculated, carefully managed existence Sidney had built. The age gap was undeniable, a 16-year stretch that gave people ammunition, as if they hadn’t already decided what they thought about you.

It didn’t help that you weren’t some seasoned socialite or a familiar name in hockey circles. You weren’t a sports reporter or a PR darling, not a longtime fixture at games. No, you were something worse in the eyes of his critics—young, new, and entirely yours.

They didn’t know about the late-night conversations, the ones where Sidney’s usual reserve cracked open just enough for you to slip inside. They didn’t see the way he softened when you spoke, or how he looked at you like he was trying to memorize every version of you—the excited, the sleepy, the frustrated, the amused.

They didn’t know that you never sought him out, that he was the one who lingered after your first meeting, the one who texted first, the one who—despite all logic, despite knowing exactly what kind of reaction this would spark—had made it clear he wanted you.

But they knew enough to talk.

"She’s barely old enough to drink."

"What could they possibly have in common?"

"Sid’s having a mid-life crisis."

The comments should have been easy to ignore. Sidney wasn’t the type to entertain gossip, and you’d never cared about the opinions of people who didn’t know you. But still, the weight of it settled into your bones some days, making you wonder if you were an anomaly in his otherwise perfectly controlled life.

Because he was Sidney Crosby—captain, legend, a man whose legacy had been cemented long before you were even in high school. And you? You were just the girl people assumed was temporary.

And maybe that’s what made it all the more exhilarating.

The funniest part? You and Sidney actually found the whole thing hilarious.

The first time you showed him a comment under some sports gossip post—"She’s basically a child. This is so embarrassing for him."—he just blinked at you, unimpressed.

"Didn’t realize I should be embarrassed for enjoying my life," he said dryly, barely looking up from his coffee.

You snorted. "Yeah, well, you should probably start wearing knee braces to dinner so people know how frail you are."

From then on, it became a running joke.

Like when you posted a dimly lit photo of your hand wrapped around a wine glass at a fancy steakhouse, the edge of Sidney’s plate barely in frame, and captioned it: Dinner with my old man 🤍

Or when you caught a candid of him rubbing his temple after a long day and added it to your Instagram story with the text: He’s got a headache from all the whippersnappers in his life.

Or, your personal favorite, when you recorded him tying his skates before practice, zoomed in on his face as he focused, and added: D1 Grandpa Energy.

The chirps were constant, and he took them all in stride. In fact, he played along—leaned into it, even.

"Think I should start stretching before we go out?" he mused one evening as you got ready for dinner. "Maybe bring a heating pad?"

You grinned at him in the mirror. "I already put Icy Hot in your bag. Just in case you pull something walking to the table."

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the twitch of his lips.

Despite the internet losing its collective mind, the reality of your relationship was effortless. Sidney was steady, calm, and deeply private. You, on the other hand, were unbothered, playful, and just reckless enough to make things interesting. You balanced each other out in a way that worked, even if people didn’t understand it.

You loved how Sidney never treated you like you were some silly, naive kid. He respected you—your thoughts, your humor, your way of seeing the world. And you, in turn, loved teasing the hell out of him, keeping him on his toes in a way no one else really dared.

Like the time you went with him to a team dinner, and while everyone was talking hockey, you casually turned to him and went, "Tell me again what it was like growing up without color TV?"

The table went silent for a beat before someone—probably Letang—burst out laughing. Sid just gave you that look, equal parts unimpressed and amused, before shaking his head.

"She’s funny, huh?" he muttered, reaching for his drink.

"A regular comedian," you quipped, clinking your glass against his.

That was the thing—no matter how much outside noise tried to define your relationship, the two of you had already decided what it was.

It was simple. You liked each other.

Sidney didn’t buy you expensive things to impress you. Sure, he could, but he knew that wasn’t why you were here. Instead, he showed up in little ways—the way he always made sure to order your fries extra crispy because that’s how you liked them, or how he’d automatically pull you closer when cameras were around, just to make sure you didn’t get overwhelmed.

And you? You made sure he laughed. Really laughed. The kind of laugh that shook his shoulders and made his eyes crinkle, the kind of laugh he rarely let people see.

You were good together. You fit, even if people couldn’t wrap their heads around it.

And honestly? That just made it more fun.

It was nearly midnight, and the two of you were on the couch, deep in a heated argument over absolutely nothing.

"I'm just saying, people who don’t let the cereal sit in the milk for at least thirty seconds before eating it are a danger to society," you declared, pointing your spoon at him.

Sidney, reclined against the cushions in his sweatpants and a faded Team Canada hoodie, exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "That’s ridiculous. You want it soggy?"

"Not soggy, perfectly saturated," you corrected, scooping another spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch from your bowl. "It enhances the experience."

Sid shook his head, glancing down at his own bowl—practically dry because, of course, he barely let the milk touch his cereal before shoveling it into his mouth like some kind of barbarian. "There’s no way you actually believe this."

"I do," you said, dramatic as ever, settling further into your spot next to him. "This is a hill I will die on."

Sid sighed, took another bite, and then, without missing a beat, shot back, "Guess you’d better hope I go first then."

You gasped, shoving his shoulder. "Did you just—"

He fought back a smirk, chewing methodically like he didn’t just say something that made your jaw drop. "You’re too young to be making retirement home decisions, anyway," he added, extra casual.

"Wow," you scoffed, setting your bowl down. "Big words for someone whose lower back cracks every time he stands up."

He snorted, finally breaking into that slow, warm smile that made your stomach flip.

It was moments like this that made you realize why, despite the comments and the noise, this relationship worked.

You weren’t intimidated by him. Not by his reputation, not by the weight of who he was. You poked fun at the untouchable Sidney Crosby the way most people wouldn’t dare, but you never disrespected him. You met him as a person, not as a legacy.

And Sid—Sid liked that.

He liked how quick you were, how you made fun of him without ever making him feel small. How you never treated him like some god on skates but also never downplayed how much he meant to people. It was a balance no one had quite figured out before you.

He let out a deep breath, stretching his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the ends of your hair.

"You done bullying me for the night?" he asked, amused.

You hummed, considering. "Depends. You gonna admit my cereal method is better?"

"Absolutely not."

"Then no."

He chuckled, shaking his head before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. You melted into his side like it was second nature, warm and easy.

The whole world could talk. The whole world could speculate. But in here, in this quiet moment between bowls of cereal and bad jokes, you fit like you were always meant to.

His eyes omg😍

ok sunburnt nose. but look at that PLUMP bottom lip mmmmmmm

Don’t make pookie talk after losses😭

No Quinny or bedsy goal

BUT Canucks win!!!

And Quinny assist

I’m trying to manifest a Canucks win rn!

I want a Quinny goal and bedsy because he’s home for the first time but overall Canuck win

backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat backwards hat

I’m loving the long hair sm

quinn i think its time for a haircut…

The curls omg

19.04.25 | Luke Hughes

Why is he so short lolll

He’s looking so good tho

LATE NIGHT TALKING

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which it’s part of his routine for Quinn Hughes to talk to Fem!Reader’s baby bump.

Quinn had never really been one for routines. It wasn’t as though life really let him have them with all the things it’s hurdled, but there were a few things he still managed to do regularly. Like his extensive skin care, and the way he had something sweet after lunch every day, or the way he kissed the tip of Y/N’s nose twice and then her lips before he got up every morning.

Most importantly, it was the way he tiptoed into the quiet house in the dead of night, making his way to admire the happy little nursery room they’ve put together while running his fingers over the soft blanket waiting for their baby's arrival, and then winded up curled by Y/N’s legs at the foot of their bed as he lifted her shirt over her swollen belly and planted a little kiss to her skin.

It was comical almost, with his tall stature and his long, muscled limbs, but Quinn made it work. He loved being eye level with their baby, even if he wasn’t really seeing them, and he wasn’t really sure where their eyes even were. But it was a set routine, one he cherished greatly, one that gave him just a semblance of something calm and soft and safe in his life.

"Hey, bubs.” Quinn murmured, rubbing soft circles into her baby bump as he spoke with his lips pressed against her skin. "Your mom hates when I call you that. It's why I’ve gotta do it.” He chuckled.

Y/N was pretty sure Quinn could think of a new pet name every day, that their child could very well grow up without hearing the same one twice for as long as he was around. His list never seemed to stop growing from new additions, and it won't.

"Today wasn't too interesting, you'd be bored.” Quinn sighed, almost like he was reliving the uneventful day he had. “Good thing you're all toasty in there.” He gave her skin a soft pat. “I’d live in here too if I could. Seems pretty nice. No bills to pay, free food, sleep whenever you want. You’re really living the dream life there, bubs."

Quinn planted another kiss to her skin, trailing pecks along until he met Y/N’s bellybutton. He smiled, letting himself relax for the first time all day as he closed his eyes and sighed as his figure sunk deeper into the mattress.

"Tonight’s game was rough.” Quinn huffed, lips curling slightly into a pout as he spoke. “No cool stories for you tonight, sorry about that. Tomorrow’s should be good, and I get to play against your uncle Trevor. That’s exciting.” His voice picked back up a spark at that, and then he felt a little kick under his palm. "You like Trevor, huh? Yeah, he's fun to pester.” Quinn laughed softly. “But you better not like him more than me. I’m cooler, funnier, and I’m way less annoying.” He rolled his eyes.

Y/N perked up at the sound of Quinn’s voice reaching her ears. She was woken up from her sleep with a tickling sensation around her body, steady breathing slowly hiccuping as she woke herself up. She felt a gentle graze on her baby bump, tickling the hairs that had grown long due to the changes her body faced. His thumb circled the swell of the stretched skin, peppering pecks along her body before planting his cheek to her belly.

"Quinn, please go to back sleep.” Y/N groaned. “It’s late, baby." But then her fingers slid into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he sighed softly at the feeling.

"Hey, I’m having a very important father and child bonding moment here.” Quinn insisted.

"Well, you can continue having it in the morning.” Y/N hummed and her voice lilted to a tease, barely noticeable with the sleep still lacing it but he clicked his tongue because he heard it, anyway.

"But you're even grumpier in the morning, you'll cut our time short. It’s very important to build trust and communication with your little ones if you want a healthy relationship. You should read more.” Quinn said matter-of-factly, and she almost wanted to kick him off the bed (though she was sure he wouldn’t really move if she tried).

"Our little one is gonna have chronic migraines from the womb if you keep this up.” Y/N muttered, and there was a giddy little grin across his face as she spoke, one she felt through his lips that were still pressed against her belly.

Her fingers didn’t stop gently stroking through his locks, and his palm was still rubbing slow circles against her skin. For a moment, even with an unborn child and a slightly irritated Y/N, Quinn had a picture perfect little family in his hands. One he never really thought would be his.

"I have to keep our baby updated, you know.” He murmured. “You’re too boring. They don't get fun stories all day when I’m not around."

“I don't think you're supposed to tell infants about what happens during some of those hockey games." Y/N muttered. “What if they have nightmares?"

"Can’t be worse than hearing you talk about which vegetables to get for dinner.” Quinn shrugged, chuckling lowly when she swatted at his shoulder.

Quinn wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his cheek lightly against her baby bump as he hummed in content. He couldn’t get over how beautiful she looked, how perfect her bump was and amazing she had taken to mother-hood before their baby was even here.

Tomorrow would be another day with new burdens and more uncertainties, but right here and right now, the world stopped turning for a moment and let him catch up, let him steal a moment without asking for anything in return.

"Someone has to be the responsible parent.” Y/N snorted.

"And someone has to be the cool one.” Quinn countered. One last kiss to her belly, and then he was shuffling up the mattress to be eye to eye with her now. She stared into his orbs for a moment, lingering on the slight glossiness that seemed to appear every night after he's had his routine conversation.

"At least we can say we're pretty balanced parents.” Y/N whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. He smiled, and it was watery, relieved even, but still just a little bit unsure.

"We could say we're cool ones if it weren't for you.” Quinn teased, chasing her retreating lips and pressing his firmly against them. It was a soft kiss, one that poured love into her lungs. It was the kind that seeped into her skin and melted into her bones, the same love that came in a form of another kick to her belly. "Our baby thinks I’m cool. See? They’re trying to tell you.”

Y/N huffed, reaching for his hand and placing it over her bump. She watched his eyes soften at the pressure against his palm, watching the way his lips twitched upwards as joy painted over the canvas of his face. His stare locking with hers and even if she couldn’t see the lower half of his face, she knew that Quinn was smiling brightly. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Quinn whispered quietly under his breath, his soft smile growing with each passing second. Almost instantly, his other hand went right to the baby bump. The warm feeling of pure love spread through his veins just at the subtle touch of her smooth, stretched skin underneath his.

Quinn has never been in love until he met Y/N. He still remembered the first time her hand fit through his and squeezed when she knew he was nervous, and now it served as his reminder to exhale. He remembered how Y/N looked in his jersey with his name written across her back for the first time and the heat in his cheeks. He remembered the tremble in his fingers when he first asked to kiss her, and he still remembered the beat in his chest when she actually said yes and how gentle her fingers felt.

Quinn was becoming softer and warmer, he realized before he was rolling his eyes at his own lovesick thoughts. But a gentle sort of realization clicked into place when he looked at her this time and he had never been so sure of anything in his life when he muttered a quick, “I love you.” He felt his world settle into place when Y/N nuzzled closer to his chest because late nights like this made Quinn thankful that the first person he ever fell in love with, was her.

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart.” Quinn repeated sweetly, each word dripping in pure adoration while he drew light shapes on her belly and locked his gaze with hers. Even after three years together, his effect on her never wore off and her cheeks heated up with blush. “I love seeing you wear my clothes, you know.” He continued, a look full of wonder and happiness painted across his face.

Y/N’s eyes widened when she remembered the only thing she was dressed in was Quinn’s button up. He almost laughed at her expression, but he was still in complete awe of her. “None of my clothes fit anymore, so I was looking in your closest and I found this shirt. It’s really comfy and oversized enough for the baby bump. Hope you don’t mind that I stole it.” She explain sheepishly, cheeks becoming rosy.

Quickly, Quinn shook his head, making his messy hair fall over his forehead. A loving smile blossomed on his lips before he leaned in to kiss her deeply. His soft lips moved with hers for a moment and the rest of the world seemed to disappear. Gently pulling away and pressing a light kiss to her forehead, his beautiful eyes met hers. Admiration was evident in his gaze and he swore he had never been more in love than right now.

“I don’t mind one bit. Not only do you look breathtaking, but I’ll never get used to seeing your belly. Our baby’s in there. I still can’t believe that.” Quinn sighed happily, kissing the baby bump as delicately as possible. “This shirt just gives me more of an excuse to love on you and your growing baby bump.”

“I love you.” Y/N mumbled quietly, unable to find anything else to properly express her feelings for the man she adored. His smile reached his eyes, nothing but joy radiating off of him, and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was.

“I love you so much more.” Quinn whispered fondly, pecking her lips again before moving to her rounded belly. “And I love you too, bubs.” He spoke to the unborn baby who already had all his love. “Only a few months until I get to meet you.” He dropped his volume barely above a whisper as if the two were hiding a secret from Y/N. “Daddy’s going to love you so much.”

His hot breath hit her skin, slightly annoying her and making Y/N want to push his face away. Regardless, a warmth spread to her chest, making her heart flutter and her eyes to well up in tears. Her sniffle caught Quinn’s attention, interrupting a monologue that he was giving about ‘accepting them no matter who they choose to be.’

It's been said before, but it bears repeating: Quinn was a natural when it came to being a lover. He’d been by Y/N’s side through every trial and tribulation life has cruelly thrown at them. He’d willingly taken her pain during grief-stricken times and selflessly shared the burden. They’ve navigated the rollercoaster years of dating and parenthood with him, all the while watching him adapt to each role with unwavering patience and grace. Witnessing him be a dad-to-be made her firmly believe it was what he was made to do. It was written in the stars.

“What’s wrong?” The quip at the end released a sob from her, increasing Quinn’s concern. “Did I do something?”

Y/N nodded profusely, embarking Quinn to sit up where she was laying her back against the headboard. His hand situated itself on her lower back, rubbing softly as her back ached more than usual these months. She covered her mouth, her tears dripping down the moist skin, mumbling incomprehensible words. 

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” Quinn asked more urgently, stretching his arm to pluck a tissue from the nightstand table, still not used to the fluctuating hormones. “I’m sorry, baby.” He apologized repeatedly, impelling Y/N to suddenly squeeze his cheeks between her hands, his mouth pinched together, thinning his words that were both comedic and endearing.

Y/N wiggled his face slowly, needing time to fully admire his handsome features and caring nature and God, she cannot believe that he was going to be the father to their little baby. 

“Y/N?” Quinn questioned with a quirked brow, cheeks still compressed between her hands but his eyes glowed in amusement. 

“You’re going to be such a good dad. Our baby is going to love you more than me and I can’t even blame them.” Y/N murmured, and the way her fingers suddenly moved from his hold to trace along the outline of his cheek bone seemed to catch him off guard, watching his eyes widen slightly, then soften at the gentleness of her touch.

Quinn cooed, his heart thumping harder at the image in his head. "Our baby.” He repeated quietly, testing the sound on his tongue as though it was new.

"All ours.” She promised, pressing one more tiny kiss to his lips before resting her head on his chest. And if she noticed there was a skip in his heartbeat, Quinn was glad she didn’t say anything. And even if he wasn’t really a man of routine, this part of his day never ceased to repeat, and he thought it was his favorite.