#i love quinn

[fiapartridge]

♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.

warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333

author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!

read part one here !!

YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call. 

Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.

The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.

“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it. 

“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true. 

Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”

“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”

Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”

Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”

“What did you want to say?”

Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention. 

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.

After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home. 

It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.

Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second. 

Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.

“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper. 

You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you? 

Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.” 

Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.

Just be honest, his mind screamed.

“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”

“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”

“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before. 

Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”

“So why-”

“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”

You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you. 

You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”

Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.

As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.

Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?” 

He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”

You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”

Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him. 

"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.

"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.

"Something like that."

[goldfades]

Quinn Hughes x equipment manager reader smut? Maybe it’s the start of the season so the reader is helping him get all his gear fitted and situated and she’s calling him “cap” and “captain” and he ends up feeling some type of way 😈

✮ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐂, quinn hughes

♡ ─ word count | 1.8k

♡ ─ warnings | unedited (when is it?) unprotected sex (tap it before u tap it kids), p in v, pretty fluffy, cute quinn, lmk if i missed anything

♡ ─ taglist | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe

♡ ─ ev's notes | sorry for the late answer, nonnie, but i hope you enjoyed!!!!

You and Quinn had always had some kind of tension between you. You could never place on why, but you sure had an idea.

You were very attracted him, and everyone could tell. I mean, who could blame you? He was so gorgeous and not only that, he was so nice to you. Despite the unspoken tension, Quinn always treated you with a warmth that left you wondering if he felt something too. Your interactions were laced with a playful teasing, leaving you both excited and frustrated. It was a delicate dance, a push and pull that kept you on the edge of anticipation. As time went on, you couldn't help but wonder if your he had felt it too.

As the season kicks off, you find yourself spending more time with Quinn, helping him get all his gear fitted and anything else the team needed. You stand beside him, both focused on the task at hand. The scent of freshly worn sports equipment hangs in the air as you adjust the straps and fastenings. The process is weirdly intimate, each adjustment bringing you closer in proximity. Quinn's easy-going demeanor remains intact as you help him.

The strong scent of freshly polished leather and the distant echoes of the team gearing up in the locker room as Quinn smiles, appreciation evident in the way he smiles.

Quinn glances over at you, a playful glint in his eye. "Thanks for the help. I swear, I never get these straps right on my own. You're the best."

You blush at the praise as your lips curve into a smile, your fingers deftly adjusting the last buckle. "No problem, Quinn. Consider it my secret talent, master of the gear fittings."

He grins, flexing his fingers in the newly adjusted gloves. "Well, I appreciate your expertise, Y/N." Your name rolled off his tongue slowly and you both made eye contact. He was smiling as he gazed back you and you could feel yourself get red, you immediately break the eye contact.

Comfortable silence fills the room as you start gathering everything back where it's supposed to go. Quinn clears his throat and continues, "So, any predictions for this season?" he asks, his eyes scanning the room as if sizing up the competition.

You look up at him as you picked up something from the floor, responding. "I'm feeling optimistic. And with you as the captain, I think we're in for the best season we've had for a while."

Quinn's grin widens at your words, and a subtle pride glows in his eyes. "Well, I'll do my best to lead us to victory. But it's not just about me; it's about the whole team working together."

You knew he was just trying to be humble, but you knew he was proud. "Okay Mr. Modest, you know you're the shit, right?"

Quinn's laughter fills the room, a warm sound that eases any lingering tension. "Well, someone's got to keep my ego in check. Wouldn't want my head to get too big."

You join in his laughter, enjoying the easy banter. As the last piece of equipment finds its place, you catch Quinn's eye again. The shared moment of amusement lingers, and you can sense a shift in the air – a subtle acknowledgment of the tension between you.

The two of you stand in the quiet locker room, surrounded by the tangible energy of anticipation for the upcoming season. Quinn leans against a locker, still smiling. "You know, I may not say it as much as I would want, but I appreciate your help. We all do, without you, we wouldn't know how to do anything."

Quinn chuckles, and the locker room seems to shrink into an intimate space shared between just the two of you. "Maybe not completely helpless, but you make it a lot smoother for all of us. It's like having a secret weapon on our side."

You roll your eyes playfully. "A secret weapon, huh? I think you're exaggerating a bit."

He pushes himself off the locker, closing the distance between you. "Not at all. You have a way of making even the most mundane tasks enjoyable. It's a talent, not anyone can do that."

The air becomes charged with a different kind of tension, one that's laced with unspoken feelings. Quinn's compliment goes beyond the teasing, and you feel a warmth spreading through you. The playful dynamic shifts into a more genuine connection, and you find yourself caught in the intensity of his gaze.

"Thanks, Cap," you respond, the nickname slipping out naturally.

Quinn's eyes hold yours, and there's a flicker of something in his expression. "Cap, huh? I like the sound of that."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing. "Oh, now you're asking for it. Captain Quinn, our fearless leader."

He laughs again, but this time there's a subtle hint of desire in his smile. "You know, I may have underestimated the power of a good nickname. It suits you."

Quinn's laughter fades, and a charged silence lingers between you. The air seems thick with anticipation, and you notice a shift in Quinn's demeanor. There's a subtle intensity in his gaze, a desire that mirrors your own.

His eyes, now filled with a hint of desire, lock onto yours. "You're more than just a manager, Y/N. There's something about you that makes everything... interesting."

You can feel your heart beating faster as the unspoken connection between you intensifies. The nickname hangs in the air, a symbol of the closeness you've built. Quinn's smile turns more intimate, and the shift in dynamics becomes undeniable.

"Well, Captain Quinn," you say, your voice a whisper, "I've heard interesting is good."

Quinn's hand gently lifts your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Very good, actually," he murmurs.

You reach up, fingers grazing the collar of his jersey, and Quinn's breath catches. The unspoken tension between you evolves into a something deeper. The tension becomes palpable, and in that charged moment, Quinn closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a deep kiss.

Quinn's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and the world outside the locker room fades away. The connection you've felt, now manifesting physically, makes his touch right now south.

One of his hands go to cup your face, pulling you impossibly closer to him. The kiss is deep and passionate, just the way you'd imagined. He pulls away and you both breathe heavily.

"You're a good kisser, Captain." You tease quietly and it was like something in him clicked, he let out another exhale as his eyes turned into something more than just desire.

"Fuck, say that again." Quinn whispers back, his voice carrying desperation and need.

You didn't know he was into that and it took you aback to watch Quinn be so desperate. "Kiss me again, Captain."

He didn't hesitate, he pulled you in again and this time, the kiss was desperate and sloppy. He let out a hum in your kiss as he slowly walked you back into the locker, holding you against it. His hand moved up to hold your neck as he kissed you deeper, making you let out a whimper into the kiss.

He start grinding against you and you immediately felt his hard-on on top of your stomach. You didn't know it was that easy to rile him up, if only you'd known sooner. Quinn started kissing down your jaw as you let out a desperate moan.

"Shit, Quinn. Please," was all you could say. Your thoughts were beginning to fog up, you couldn't think straight.

"Please what, baby?" He mumbled against your neck as his hands move down to grip your waist. When you didn't answer, he let his hand go lower down in the place where you needed him the most. He cupped your covered cunt and you let out a moan, echoing throughout the locker room.

"Just fuck me, please." You whispered and you felt yourself become warm at the thought. He let out a chuckle before engulfing you in another bruising kiss, your whole body slamming against the locker once again. He

Your hands went to wrap around his shoulders as his hands went to take off your shorts, leaving you in your panties. "Jump," he mumbled against your lips and you did as you were told and he held you up with ease.

He pushed you harder against the locker as you moaned in his mouth, making him break the kiss. One of his hands unzipped his pants and quickly pulled out his hard cock. He moved your panties and slowly entered you. All you could do was grip his shoulders and moan as he thrusted himself right in you.

He stretched you out so perfectly, you swore you'd never felt this good your entire life. "Shit, Quinn."

"You feel so fucking good, baby. So good," he groaned as he finally bottomed you out. You felt so full, so good. His cock made you feel so dizzy, you were about to pass out.

He slowly started thrusting in and out of your soaking cunt, the sound echoing throughout the locker-room. You kept holding onto his shoulders for support as he fucked into you, letting out whimpers.

Quinn gripped your hips tightly as his speed increased with each thrust, your head fell back as he fucked into you. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as your walls clenched around him, sucking him deeper.

"Fuck, baby, keep doing that." He groaned in your ear and you could barely comprehend the words he was saying, all you could do was mumble an affirmation as he kept fucking into you. "Just like that, baby."

You felt that familar knot form in your stomach as he kept his ruthless pace, making your head spin. "So close, please don't stop!" You moaned out.

He placed wet kisses all over your neck as he mumbled against you, "Me too princess." His grip on your hips was unforgiving, you could feel the bruises coming in but you didn't care, it felt so good. "Fuck."

The knot kept getting tighter and tighter, you could barely keep up. Before you knew it, your orgasm hit you like a truck. "Fuck, Quinn!" Your body spasmed in his arms as he kept fucking you through it. You saw stars as it washed over you.

Soon, he was cumming into you too. You both just sat there for a few seconds, catching your breath. Quinn gazed at you and he couldn't help himself getting hard again at your fucked-out state. He let out a chuckle as he shook his head playfully, "Didn't know you were into me like that, until... that."

"Didn't know you had a weird "Cap" kink," you retorted teasingly as he laughed, laying his forehead against yours.

"Yeah, you and me both."

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[bronzyglow]

super tmi question but i have no one else to ask and google's inspirational shit and magazine articles don't really help so here it is: how do i become more comfortable with sex? like how do i know what i like or want to do without being timid? i feel like my boyfriend is getting bored of me being a pillow princess and i can't stand the performative nature of 🌽 vids so i'm at a loss

I feel you. I suggest trying out the quinn app! it is probably THEEEEEE best $5 a month you could ever spend on yourself. audio erotica might seem a little silly at first but it's a safe and fun space with a lil something for everyone to explore.🌷💞

[lvrhughes]

oh btw y’all if y’all were hear for Mads, so not over her I miss her so much

I’ve definitely got attachment issues I can’t let go but maybe I got unblocked??

[ohohorla]

[billskaarsgard]

Joseph Quinn and Lupita Nyong'o answer which is scarier: Demogorgons or Death Angels?

[lisamar1exo]

harlivy 🌱❤️

[bambibabyblogger]

i love these two so much, their relationship is so real to me❤️

Elimination - Quinn Hughes x ofc

 gif by @thombordeleau 

Title: Elimination

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn x Sarah

Warnings: Sad Quinn, fluff and comfort, smut (18+ only), unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), if I missed any others, please let me know. 

Summary: When the Canucks are eliminated from the Stanley Cup Playoffs, Sarah offers Quinn a kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed. 

Word count: 4,200

Comments: This snapshot has been a long time coming. The idea of Sarah comforting Quinn the way she does came to me while I was driving to work one day, and I immediately wrote it down. It took me quite a while to figure Quinn’s family into the story, including his brothers (yes! They're finally here!). 

As I was editing the comfort scene, I found the story continuing in a way I didn’t really expect, but mirrored Before I meet your parents… in a way I couldn’t ignore. 

If you enjoy it, please let me know by commenting or reblogging! Your comments really do inspire me to keep writing! 

Elimination 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

The playoffs were a whole different beast than Sarah had become accustomed to. Not only was the season much longer than any of the guys were used to, practices were more intense and heated, video more in depth, the need for rest and recovery more acute. She knew first hand how tired the team was because she knew first hand how tired Quinn was. 

In the first round, they'd lost the first game in the series before rallying to win the next three. The Kings won one more before the Canucks stamped them out with the last win coming on home ice in overtime. Despite the final score only being 1-0, it was the most exciting game Sarah had ever been to. 

When she was sitting with Quinns family, Luke had taken to teasing her in that little brother way every time her hands ended up clutching her face with each shot directed at Demko or Talbot. 

“Calm down, Sarah,” he’d said, when she jumped in her seat, hands flying up to cover her mouth as Demko barrel rolled to stop another shot from Kopitar.

She'd sent a playful glare his way, “I'm surprised Kylee hasn't told you you should never tell a woman to calm down. That's a surefire way to get yourself into trouble.” 

Kylee, who was sitting on Lukes other side, snorted. “Oh, I have. He just doesn’t listen.”

Luke took it in stride and laughed. He reminded Sarah so much of her oldest nephew, Ryan. Good natured, friendly and a little bit goofy once she broke through that shy shell.

Sarah glanced at Jack, who was sitting with his some of his cousins farther down the row. His eyes darted away, as if caught staring at something he shouldn’t. 

The strained way he acted around her was getting better, but he was still pretty standoffish toward her. When she asked Quinn what she could do to fix it, he said to just give it time, and Jack would come around eventually. He didn’t think it was actually anything about her, but rather Jack needing time to adjust to the situation. 

“I think he finally realized how serious I am about you.” 

“You’re serious about me?” she’d asked, all flirty lashes and coy smiles. 

“You know I am,” he’d responded before leaning in to kiss her. 

So, she turned back to the game, giving Jack time and hoping he would see  how much she loved his older brother and that she only meant well. 

When Garland shot the overtime goal off a picture perfect pass from Quinn, he managed to catch Talbot above the blocker, sending the puck sailing into the back of the net with a definitive whoosh. 

The stadium erupted into a wall of sound.

The entire team, clad in blue, spilled onto the ice, throwing helmets and gloves, crowding around Conor and Thatcher. 

Quinn was ecstatic that evening. Practically bouncing off the walls of the club they went to to celebrate. Sarah had never seen him so loud - caught up in the atmosphere and moment. 

Halfway through the night, he pulled her into a dim corner and kissed her so thoroughly, she actually considered pulling him into the dingy bathroom to have her way with him right then. 

Jack interrupted, drunkenly loud, and demanded that Quinn come with him for a round of shots. 

Quinn paused, meeting Sarah’s eye. 

“Go celebrate,” she encouraged, trying her best to not come between them. She and Quinn could find a spare moment to celebrate on their own later. 

With his family in his house, that moment hadn’t come, but she was glad to see Quinn celebrating so heartily with his brothers. 

In the second round, after three straight losses to the Predators, Vancouver battled, forcing game five, before dominating in Nashville two nights later, selling their comeback story.

When they got back to town, the whole city was buzzing.

Despite the excitement, game six was awful to watch. Sarah had her hands over her mouth through most of it.  

Now that they were fighting to tie, and the Preds were fighting, once again, to clinch the series, Nashville was playing dirty: exploiting every Canucks weakness they could find. They needled, drawing penalty after stupid, preventable penalty until they were three goals up at the end of the second period. 

Quinn was exhausted. Sarah could see it in his skating and in the slumped set of his shoulders as they went into the dressing room for the intermission.

She sent him a text, I’m so proud of you. 

He didn't reply, but they battled back, holding off all Preds offense and getting within a goal by the time Demko was pulled at the end of the third. Quinn battled fiercely to keep the puck in the offensive zone for more than a minute, giving a master class on body-eye coordination as he skirted the blue line, dodging Nashville players as if someone were controlling him with a top ice view. 

Their passes were perfect: tic-tac-toe from Quinn to Mikheyev to Lafferty, but as Sam tried to get the puck to Hollander, the pass was intercepted.

Nashville fought to center ice and chipped the puck into the Vancouver end. 

Quinn chased it, but he just didn't have enough in the tank. He caught up just as the puck bounced back out of the open net. 

Full of frustration and despair, he smacked it into the boards. Caught at just the right angle, the puck ricocheted back at him, and he had to lift a hand to block it from hitting him in the face. 

Sarah could practically see the frustrated embarrassment radiating off him as he skated to sit down. 

Demko was pulled again and Quinn managed to get the empty netter back, but through the ugly march of time, the clock expired before they could score another. 

The buzzer sounded and Nashville celebrated, throwing equipment all over the ice, all hugging and jumping as the Canucks limped into the dressing room. 

Even despite the disappointment of losing, everyone was thrilled to see them get this far. Going from the middle of the pack last season to top of the league this year was no small feat. She knew Quinn wouldn’t be satisfied until they got the cup, but she was so proud of him. 

He sent a text, telling them to go home and he would meet them there when he was done with the media. 

It was torture for Sarah to have to leave and wait for him. She wished she could go down to the dressing room, but knew not only would she not be allowed in, Quinn would hate it. He would want to talk with her privately. 

Everyone was subdued as they puttered around the apartment, waiting for him. Both Jack and Luke were on their phones, sprawled out over the living room furniture. Ellen, Jim and Kylee were doing something in the kitchen. Sarah was too nervous to even distract herself. Quinn had lost before, of course, but she’d never seen him lose like this — not this kind of a season-ending, brutal loss. 

When the elevator dinged, Sarah jumped to her feet, his family following suit, clambering into the living room.

To her surprise, Quinn came straight to her, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. His suit was rumpled, his tie attempting to slither out of his breast pocket. When she wrapped him in her arms, he practically collapsed against her. 

Ellen knew Quinn loved and trusted Sarah and that he spent far more time with her these days, but it was still a bit shocking when he bypassed them all to go straight to her for comfort.

Sarah reacted in a way Ellen never had and upon seeing the scene play out, she realized Sarah’s reaction may have been something Quinn had been longing for for a long time.

She would usually hug him for a while, before talking him down. They would soon end up dissecting shifts and plays. He would lament how he could have been better, and she would try to comfort him while still being realistic. 

Sarah just stood there, holding him. She didn't say a word, even when Quinn started to cry softly. She just ran a hand into his wet hair, while the other traveled slowly up and down his back. 

 She didn't assure or placate him, or even try to get him to stop crying. She just let him express the emotion without judgment or commentary. It hit Ellen suddenly that Sarah reacted this way because she had dealt with so much sorrow in her life, she knew how to comfort in these hard moments. 

The family stood by and watched. She didn’t look up and meet their eyes with a conspiratorial, he’ll be alright, look, or invite them into the embrace. Her whole intention was focused on Quinn. 

While it was sweet to see them together in this way, it was also a little awkward to watch, especially for the boys, who looked like they had no idea what to do.

It was full minutes before anyone said anything, and even then, it was just Sarah asking if he wanted to sit down. He shook his head so she did a little two-step, and kept on. 

As Ellen watched them interact, it was obvious how much they meant to and understood each other. It was so sweet to witness her son finding the person he needed that she pulled out her phone to record them, wanting to document the moment. 

When they finally spoke, Ellen was glad she was filming. 

“I let everyone down,” Quinn said, his voice choked with emotion, just above a whisper. 

“No.” Her voice was quite loud, the word definitive, leaving no room for doubt. It was a bit shocking to hear Sarah be so forceful.

Taking his jaw, she gently lifted his head up so he had to look into her eyes. 

“No,” she repeated, her voice a little softer now. “This wasn't only your fault, and it didn't happen because of anything you did by yourself.”

Ellen wasn’t sure she would go that far… If he had gone for a change, someone with fresh legs may have been able to chase down that empty netter.

“You don’t win as a team, but lose by yourself. That’s not how this works.”

Now she understood where Sarah was going. 

“I know this run is ending sooner than you wanted and I'd be more concerned if you weren't sad.” She paused for a long moment, looking into his eyes as if she was searching for something. When she didn’t find it, she continued, “I just - I want you to remember that I don't love you because you play hockey.” 

His lower lip trembled and Ellen felt hers do the same. 

“I love you because of this big, kind heart,” she said as she pressed a hand to his chest, “and because of this brilliant, thoughtful mind,” her other hand slid into the hair at his temple. “And those are the same as they were this morning. You're so much more than hockey.”

He was looking at her like she'd hung the moon. 

Ellen felt tears slip down her own cheeks. All her life, she’d been trying to strike a balance with her boys - trying to find the right way to tell them hockey was just a part of who they are. And here Sarah was, walking into their life, and saying the exact thing Ellen had been trying to say all along. 

Right then and there, the remaining reservations she had about Sarah were swept onto the back burner. She knew it would still take some getting used to, but how could she not love this woman standing in front of her, telling her son she loved him for who he was and not for the things he did? It was all she could ask for as a mother. 

She glanced over at Jack, who looked a little dumbfounded, as if seeing Sarah for the first time. Luke was smiling in a glad, knowing way, his arm looped around Kylee. 

Jim, standing on Ellen’s other side had a mixture of pride and disappointment on his face. Ellen knew he was going to battle with himself at the thought of Quinn crying over being eliminated. When they were kids, he would have told the boys to buck up, despite Ellen’s insistence it was okay for them to express their sadness for a little while. 

The happiness at seeing someone accept Quinn as he was won out, and Jim put his arm around Ellen with a conspiratorial smile.

“Of course you’re going to be sad,” Sarah continued. “Like I said, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t. But you,” she poked him gently in the chest to emphasize her point, “sure as hell didn’t let me down.” 

Quinn threw his arms around her in a fierce hug. “I love you.”   

“I love you, too.” 

He wiped at his eyes, then turned to the family. They embraced him one by one. 

After she’d hugged Quinn, Ellen went to Sarah, “I don’t know how you did that,” she said, pulling her close, “but that was exactly what he needed.” 

When Quinn made his way back to Sarah, he kissed her temple. His eyes were still red, cheeks still splotched with color, but he looked settled. Not satisfied or happy, really, but settled.

Later that night, Ellen sent the video to her sister, making her promise to not share it with anyone. She just needed someone else to see the tenderness. 

Oh, Elle, I'm so glad Quinn finally found a good one. I can't wait to meet her. 

At the same time Ellen was texting her sister, Quinn was lying next to Sarah in bed. Her words from earlier replaying over and over again in his thoughts. 

He'd practically begged her to stay over. She hadn't planned to with his family in the house, but he felt a bit needy and wanted the comfort of her next to him. 

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, turning to her.

She rolled onto her side so they were face to face. “I'm always gonna be in your corner, Quinn.”

Leaning in, he kissed her - gently at first, but it soon turned more passionate. 

The fact that they would be apart before too long was on both their minds as they made love that night. 

“Oh, Quinn. Right there, right there,” she chanted, voice soft. 

The simple fact that he could make her feel this way made his heart feel full to bursting. At least he hadn't lost that. 

Keeping eye contact, his hand traced to her left knee and pulled it up over his hip. He didn’t want her to have the same old orgasm. Not tonight. A big part of him wanted to prove he could still excel here.

Head tipping back, Sarah panted.  

His other hand came up to guide her chin back down. 

The way she clenched around him when their eyes met made his hips stutter.

She lifted herself up to catch his mouth. It changed the angle of his thrusts, making his whole body quiver. He tried to brace against it, slowing down and concentrating on kissing the breath out of her. 

It worked in that they were both breathless before too long, but didn't ease the feeling of being pulled to the very edge of his restraint. The competitive streak inside him wasn't about to allow himself to come before she did - especially not tonight, when he had so much left to prove. 

“No,” she gasped  when he pulled away. “I was right there.”

He laughed into her skin. “I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart,” he said, before tracing his mouth over her clavicle and trailing his tongue between her breasts, savoring the salty taste of her skin. 

The blankets pulled with him as he settled between her legs, and Sarah gasped as the cool air of his room hit her. 

She looked so ethereal in a pool of soft light from one of the skylights, her chest rising and falling at a hurried, steady pace. 

“God, you're beautiful,” he whispered. 

Times like these, Quinn still wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to find Sarah. She seemed to be his perfect match in every way. It wasn’t always smooth sailing - nothing ever was. This summer was sure to take a toll on their relationship. He knew, somehow, they would come out on the other side, better and stronger, but all the same, he wasn’t looking forward to spending so many nights without her. 

Pushing that worry out of his mind, he concentrated the task at hand and lowered his mouth to her hot center. 

It was his turn to give thanks.

She was acutely aware of his family in the apartment: brothers on the floor below, while his parents were down the hall. They were never particularly loud in bed, but the thought of his family overhearing hushed her vocal cords even more. 

“Quinn,” she whimpered.

He ate up every whisper, every little whine and panted breath, knowing they were just for him. 

Making some unintelligible noise, her back arched, lifting off the mattress. 

She whined when he eased two fingers into her and lifted his mouth. 

“Help me find it?” he whispered, crooking his fingers.

“Higher.”

He moved slowly, not wanting to go too fast and pass over it.  

“There, there,” she panted. 

Reaching up with his free hand, he disentangled her fingers from the sheet so he could grasp her hand, linking them together.

“You can press a little harder. It’s not as sen -” her voice broke off into a groaned, “oh, fuck,” as he urged that soft, spongey spot with a heavier touch. 

They’d done this more after his revelatory first time, and he loved discovering new things about her. He still had a hard time finding her g-spot on his own, but he was learning. Tonight felt like a whole new ego stroke, one he was seeking if he was being honest with himself.

His mind wandered back to the first time he’d touched her, the way she’d reminded him of Helen of Troy - beautiful beyond belief. He ached for her the same way now as he watched her fall apart. Mouth dropped open as her body pulled taught as a bow string, one hand grasping the headboard for stability while the other clutched his like a vice.

As she came down from her high, he kept his fingers pressed into her.

Even as she squirmed against the sensitivity from his strong touch, she felt a blaze of pleasure reignite in her belly, faster than it ever had before. 

Still kneading with his fingertips, he lowered down, sucking her sensitive pearl into his mouth. She let out a strangled cry that left him dizzy with satisfaction. 

The contrast of his warm mouth and soft tongue on her core against the harsh rasp of his playoff beard on her inner thighs wound her tighter and tighter until he was sparking so much ecstasy in her body, she couldn't quite remember why she was trying to be so quiet.

Her fingers tightened in his at the same time her legs trembled and he knew she was close. He continued on, mouth soft and steady while his fingers worked with more focused intent. 

The way she whimpered his name made him groan and rock his hips into the mattress to get a bit of relief.

When the tension in her pelvis finally snapped, Sarah cried out. 

It was only after she came back to herself and he eased his fingers from her that she worried about how loud she'd been. 

Before she could ask, he knocked her breathless again as he slid his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with apparent relish. 

“Did I yell?” she whispered as he crawled back over her. 

He shook his head, “not too loud. I don't think they heard.”

The anxiety ebbed away as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“Can you turn over?” he asked, lips barely grazing hers. 

She pulled back to look into his face. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he said. 

“You already did. Twice.”

“Please?” he asked, ghosting his lips over her cheek, “let me make you come one more time.�� In reality, Quinn was tired, but his pride was insistent, eager to feel her one more time. He knew if  he got her on her stomach she’d come faster than in missionary. 

He could see worry in her expression, but she did as he asked, the sheets clinging briefly to her back as she rolled. 

One of his hands grazed down her side, following the curvature of her hip before tracing her hamstring all the way to the knee. Hooking his hand there, he eased her leg out to the side. 

He really was spoiling her. Eagle with a broken wing was her favorite position other than missionary, but they didn’t do it terribly often, both generally preferring to see the other when they were together. 

She felt Quinn’s heat before any of his skin, and raised her hips slightly to facilitate him. 

“You’re —” she broke off into a groan as he eased into her again. She was so sensitive, she was fairly certain she would have fallen apart all over again if he had given her an intense enough look. Heat was already climbing up her spine and he hadn't even moved yet. 

When his hands appeared near hers as he braced on his forearms, she moved to lace her fingers through his. 

When he began to thrust, he felt her fingers curl until her nails kissed his palms  

Listening to her sweet sounds, he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted to live in her forever.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, chaos sparking all over her skin. “I didn't think I could come this many times so quickly.”

Her hushed statement rushed to his head. “Sarah,” he moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Sarah.” 

His mouth traced the curve of her neck before gently biting the ridge of her shoulder.

The prick of pain from his teeth combined with the way he was hitting her g spot in a steady, continuous rhythm had Sarah’s mouth falling open. “Oh. Quinn,” she moaned. “Just like that. Please don't stop.” 

He rested his forehead on her back, feeling out of his mind with pleasure and pride.

Only after he felt her tremble and pulse around him and chanting that he loved her, he let himself go, spilling into her with a loud groan he tried to muffle into her skin. 

They stayed that way for a long while, his sweaty chest pressed into her back. He was a comfortable weight, pressing her into the mattress.

Quinn talked himself into moving and eased out, his wince matching the breath she hissed through her teeth. Before he could decide which side to roll onto, she was turning onto her back, and pulling him into her embrace. 

Resting his head on her chest, he sighed. 

Sarah smiled, tired but gratified and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. She wanted to get up and go to the bathroom, but waited, knowing Quinn needed this extra affection.

“I don't…” he started to say, then trailed off, slowly tracing a circle around her belly button. 

He had never felt supported and loved like he had today. Not only when she just let him cry, but when she reminded him that she loved the things about him that weren't his job. 

Quinn hadn't known how much he needed to hear Sarah’s words until she was saying them. His whole family was so entwined in hockey that, even though he knew his parents loved him, it sometimes felt like his success and failure in the arena were wrapped up in their affection and approval. It was one of the reasons Jack always felt like the favorite child, as he had the most natural talent. 

“You don't?” she urged when he didn’t say anything else.

He shook his head and took a steadying breath. “I feel like I don't deserve you.” 

A little smile played on her lips, “I feel that way sometimes, too, but I'm not really sure it's about deserving. Everyone deserves love.” 

She paused for a long time playing with his hair. It relaxed Quinn, causing him to practically melt into her.

“I'm glad we're both willing to put in the work and try to meet in the middle,” she said quietly.

He agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of her breast.

As they stayed that way for a long time, Quinn felt cocooned in her love and hoped she felt the same. 

“Okay,” she said a little while later, starting to feel sticky and itchy, “I’m sorry, but I really need to shower, or at least rinse off.” 

They took a quick shower, and Quinn changed the fitted sheet as she redid her skincare. 

When they finally fell asleep tangled together, she in a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt, and he in his boxers, it was well after 3. 

After sleeping like the dead, Quinn woke close to ten, still feeling that strong swell of gratitude easing the disappointment in his chest. 

If anyone in his family had heard them, they were all excellent actors, and didn't say a thing. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[oncillabrigade]

Consider:

The Bats all have personalized ring tones for one another, but everyone has both a civilian and a Bat ring tone. The civilian ones are chaos, with everyone choosing whatever they want for their various family members and friends. BUT! Everyone has a single Bat tone that all other team members use for them.

The catch? Bruce forbid them from choosing their own Bat ring tones because he proposed this plan back in Dick's Robin days and he IMMEDIATELY picked "Toxic." The choice was not well received.

Bruce: Dick, I will not be alerted to the fact that you're in danger by some Britney Spears song.

Dick: First of all, it is not some Britney song, it is the Britney song. That song finally won her a Grammy.

Bruce: *sighs*

Dick: Second of all, it won't tell you when I'm in danger... it'll tell you when Robin is.

Bruce:

Bruce: I'm taking the Walkman out of the Robin kit.

Dick: *offended gasp*

(Yes, Dick is old enough for a Walkman. No, you will not change my mind. Yes, the Tim-and-on siblings all find that hilarious. Yes, Jason has to be VERY careful not to mention that he borrowed that Walkman for years because he was uncomfortable taking expensive electronics out and about with him.)

Anyway!

Dick then proposes a slew of other songs for the whole team to use, all of which are pop culture references, e.g. the Scrubs theme because they're not Superman and also they're a dysfunctional family of coworkers; the theme from the Godfather because "let's be honest, B, we are basically our own mafia"; "Where is My Mind" by the Pixies because lol identity shenanigans, etc. The list is endless. Bruce spends weeks groaning every time his son texts him.

Eventually, they compromise on the version of "The Entertainer" from The Sting because they're hiding in plain sight to enact a mission defending good people in a hard world. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all so pleased with this that they each take a different section of the song as their ring tone.

Then Barbara becomes Batgirl, so she gets a section... and then Jason becomes Robin and gets one, too... and then Tim, then Steph, and then Cass is taken in, and... uh oh. That's a lot of people for one song.

But it's family tradition! They can't stop now. That would be so unfair to the new kids, B!

So they start using alternate arrangements of the song. Bruce has mellowed slightly on the "no choosing your own" thing. As long as it's a version of "The Entertainer" (within reason) he'll allow it.

Tim retroactively changes his ring tone to a weird groove-ska arrangement Bart randomly sent him on YouTube because have you met Tim Drake? Of course he went for hilarious obscurity. (Bruce grits his teeth and approves it after lots of prompting from Dick and Alfred). Steph makes it her mission to find a weirder one (Bruce agrees because he's too tired to deal with accusations of favoritism).

Cass creates her own arrangement on theremin because apparently she knows how to play the theremin. No one is sure why. Upon inquiry, she just says, "spooky noises are fun," but does not elaborate further even when she's asked to do so. A Batgirl's gotta have her secrets—Babs taught her that.

When Jason starts working with his family again, he pays an aspiring music producer within Red Hood's ranks to create a minor key remix of the original Robin II ring tone. His siblings (minus Cass) are VERY jealous he has his own personalized arrangement. Dick, Tim, and Steph end up paying this goon who owns Garage Band to do ones for them, too. Duke does the same when he joins the team.

Meanwhile, in a fit of little brotherly pique, Damian steals Tim's original ring tone. He hopes to rub salt in the Robin replacement wounds. He fails! Tim finds it beyond funny that Damian's ring tone is groove-ska. So Damian quietly pays the amateur producer to make him one that's cooler than Tim's. He pays a ludicrous amount, though, because Steph paid for one cooler than Jason's and Tim paid for one cooler than Steph's.

(Dick wanted one cooler than Jason's too, but he had $63.02 in his bank account at the time and Bruce flat out refused to use the Batbudget on "a super cool ring tone that's better than Jay's." Eventually, Dick just paid himself for an averagely cool one. In installments.)

At this point, the Bats have single-handedly given this fledgling producer enough money to quit being a goon and start an indie music studio. His first customers are mostly superheroes from out of town who like what the Bats have going on and want their own team ring tones. Harley and Ivy get in on that action, too.

Then, as word spreads, every local crook/henchperson with a side band (there are many) flocks to the studio to have their stuff produced by one of their own. Gotham rogues suddenly have an unemployment problem, while the city finds itself with a flourishing indie music scene that puts Metropolis' to shame. The entire state of New Jersey is celebrating the dual victory.

Dick has never been so glad someone doesn't like Britney Spears' magnum opus.

[acid-ixx]

"hostage situation"

series masterlist

nightwing, to his siblings: okay, so we have to be real careful because the joker and harley quinn are holding our baby sibling hostage and we can't put them in anymore danger.

nightwing, looks at red robin: i'm sure they have some traps laid around the lair so you'll be disarming it.

red robin, nods:

robin: then me and todd will be handling any spare targets, no?

nightwing: of course. cass, steph and duke will be guarding the entrance. babs?

oracle, speaking in the intercoms: this is the closest point of entry where (name) is being kept hostage.

red robin: security cams suggest there's more than just harley and the joker in the lair. a bunch of their goons are heavily guarding both the entrance and the exit. we should thread carefully.

oracle: there's no camera's where (name) is exactly at, but there's a specific room where it's shown that the two are often visiting.

batman, who had been lurking behind them: this is a priority mission. we can't afford to make mistakes.

robin, eyebrows raised: though, is it necessary to bring the entire family? me and my father could handle this entirely by ourselves.

jason, sighs: don't pretend like you weren't the first to suggest the entire justice league to come searching for them, kid.

batman: enough arguing, (name) needs all the support they could get after this. so on my count, we are to bust open the door.

dick: alright, everybody, prepare.

*meanwhile, inside the lair, in a makeshift "house"*

(name), sitting on a comfy chair whilst holding a cup of hot chocolate and a book in the other, sneezes: oh— did anyone mention my name?

harley quinn, already on her way to wipe their nose: oh my baby! is our baby sick?!

(name): no, i just suddenly sneezed?

the joker, in another room: i spy with my little eye, a child way past their bedtime~ c'mon babyboo, let's get you to bed!

(name): awe, but it's like, 10pm. i wanna read some more.

harley, about to pick (name) up: then let momma read the book for you in bed, cutesy pie—

*the door to the kitchen slams open*

dick, with his escrima sticks on-hand: surrender (name) to us now or—!

dick, absolutely befuddled: wait, what?!

damian, with bruce in tow: what's the hold up, nightwing?!

damian, about to jump right in front of dick before he was stopped by bruce's hand on his shoulder: what is... this?

bruce: ... explain the meaning of this, harley.

harley, holds (name) closer to her chest as she's equally confused: what do ya mean, bats? ain't it obvious i'm taking care of my child?

(name): uhm...

damian, visibly offended: what do you mean, your child? (name) over there is ours.

the joker, walks over to the room in a hurry: what's with all the commotion over here?! (name) is supposed to be in bed, harle— batman?!

bruce, with squinted eyes: don't act stupid, what is this all about?

nightwing, surveying the room: wait, why is (name) in pajamas?

(name), trying their best to shrug in harley's tight hug: i'm... supposed to go to bed...?

the joker, about to walk over to (name) before he's stopped by a batarang almost hitting the side of his head: hey! what's that for? i'm clearly not trying to attack my own child!

bruce: (name) is my child, not yours.

the joker, glaring at batman: well, it's not my fault they choose me over you!

(name) wayne, interrupting the two: uhm... i did technically disown myself from the family so—

damian: disown yourself?

(name): i have every reason to—

dick: look, baby bird, you don't know what's right for you, these guys are dangerous—

(name): i literally got nearly killed by some nobody criminals if not for harley saving me but okay, nightwing.

bruce, whose attention is now on (name): you almost got what now?

(name), rolling their eyes: i almost died, batman. now if you excuse me, i think i deserve a good night sleep tonight.

(name), looks at harley who still hasn't released them from the protective hug: can we?

harley quinn, facepalming in her mind as she stares back at (name): oh, i should've bought you to pam and selina instead.

[dearabsolutelynoone]

“She does adore him and she always has.” — Simone Ashley

“They love each other so deeply and he adores her.” — Jonathan Bailey

[ayo-edebiri]

Recently, I made a promise to myself that the next time I got a boyfriend, I’d be on the lookout for red flags. And if I saw any, I would do the healthy thing and I would murder him.

The Suicide Squad (2021) dir. James Gunn

[heartstringgs]

To those creators who are making aftg social media posts - I'm kissing you on the lips

[stromer]

go to the box, please. GO to the box, please! NOW!

[wombywoo]

MRE 🩸

[capquinn]

Sunday | Q. Hughes

summary: A lazy Sunday morning... pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: nothing but tooth rotting fluff word count: 1k ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little raspy from sleep, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.

A smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “Just admiring."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The morning light slips through the blinds, casting soft, golden stripes across the room. It dances on the walls, wrapping you both in a warm, quiet glow. It’s the kind of light that only comes in the last days of summer, when the air feels just a bit cooler in the mornings, but the days still stretch long into the evening. There’s something almost ethereal about the way it floods the space, filling every corner with a peaceful stillness.

You’re both wrapped in the tangled mess of white sheets, limbs entwined. Quinn's chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm, the gentle warmth of his skin brushing against yours. The world beyond the window might as well not exist; here, in the cocoon of soft linens and golden light, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in the last days of lazy summer, sheltered from the chaos of life outside.

You glance up at Quinn, his face half-buried in the pillow, hair slightly tousled and falling in soft strands across his forehead. The sunlight dances on his face, illuminating the faint freckles scattered across his nose. His expression is soft, radiating the kind of peacefulness that only comes when you know you don’t have to be anywhere else but here. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, lashes casting gentle shadows on his cheeks, but there’s a contentedness in the way he looks at you and a lazy, easy smile playing at the corners of his lips that makes your heart flutter.

You shift a little closer, pressing your cheek against the pillow and propping yourself up slightly on your elbow. Your hand moves instinctively, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble that’s grown in over the weekend. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before opening again, meeting yours in that sleepy, comfortable silence.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little raspy from sleep, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.

A smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “Just admiring."

His brows quirk, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a curious gaze. The warmth of his eyes pulls you in like it always does, the mix of green and hazel almost impossible to decipher. They’re mesmerizing... The way the morning light catches in his irises, turning the hues of green and hazel into something almost magical. They shift with the light, as if the exact colour of them depends on where you’re standing, or how close you are.

Luckily, you’re the only one who gets to see them this closely.

That thought makes your heart swell. This quiet intimacy between the two of you, tucked away from the world in the soft glow of the morning. His eyes, those incredible, ever-changing eyes, are just for you in this moment. A warmth blooms in your chest, a sense of comfort and belonging that’s almost overwhelming in its simplicity.

“You have such pretty eyes,” you say softly, the words slipping out without much thought.

A faint blush creeps across Quinn’s cheeks, and he shifts slightly under the covers, glancing away for just a second. His reaction is almost bashful, as if no one’s ever said something like that to him before.

Quinn opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it again, a soft chuckle escaping him instead. His cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Stop,” he mumbles, his voice muffled, laced with that shy, nervous laughter. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until you’re pressed up against him.

You laugh lightly, brushing your fingers through his messy hair as you feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off him. “I’m serious,” you whisper, leaning in just a little, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “They’re like... impossible to figure out. Sometimes they look green, sometimes hazel... So pretty.”

He groans softly in protest, his face still buried against your neck. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not,” you insist, your voice playful, trying to keep the moment light. You feel the soft rumble of his laughter against your chest, his body vibrating with the sound. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

His breath hitches slightly at the words, and for a moment, he just stays there, his face hidden in the curve of your neck, as if he’s too shy to even look at you. But then he shifts, lifting his head just enough to press a soft kiss against your collarbone. His lips linger there for a second longer than usual, his lips warm and tender against your skin, as if he’s gathering the courage to speak.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, your heart swelling at the softness of his confession. “Well, then they’ve clearly never looked at you the way I do.”

He glances up at you finally, his eyes catching the light again, and for a second, neither of you say anything. There’s no need to. The moment is so simple, so mundane in the grand scheme of things, and yet it feels like the most intimate thing in the world. Just you, him, and the quiet of a lazy summer morning.

Quinn’s lips curve into a small, shy smile, his face still flushed as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you murmur back, your fingers brushing lightly over his arm. “But I’m right.”

He laughs again, this time a little more freely, and pulls you closer into him until your legs are tangled together beneath the sheets once more. There’s no rush to move, no urgency to do anything but just be. You have this one last weekend together before everything picks up again — work, hockey, life — and for now, that’s more than enough.