#birdie x quinn

[punk-in-docs]

‼️ LUST AT FIRST BITE‼️

The Lost Boys AU, feat; Vamp!Frances x Human!Birdie

3.9k words

Summary: He’s tucked away where he usually is. Playing at the lie of life, watching on from the shadows, up on the roof of the tacky gift shop, puffing on a cigarette. A lone evil fiery eye cutting in the dark. Eyes scraping over every pretty person in this crowd, and seeing who, oh who, will be his dinner.

Eenie. Meenie. Miney. You-

(The awesome blood drip banner is not mine! I found on @riottsrph ‘s page. Thank you!)

Santa Carla, 1987

The boardwalk was always packed with people. Heaving in summer. Air full of noise and screams from the denizens on the giant dipper. The snaking notched backbone that arches, governs, over this place. Gulls shriek. Flickering glare of neon and flashing bulbs filling your sight everywhere. Greedy eyes don’t know where to rest first.

People flock to this place in their hundreds. This colourful edifice that exudes joy and junk food fuelled adrenaline. Teenage euphoria, arcade games and fast thrills, right next to walls plastered with flapping scales of forever-mounting missing posters. Twitching in the sea air as people sagged with worry, gather and weep and pin up even more. Hollow smiles, dead black and white eyes, all unseeing, plead from flyers.

Too many flyers.

You had to bob and weave to get anywhere in this dense bubbling crowd.

His hand is firmly tucked in yours. Smell of sugary popcorn and hot dogs is ripe, carried with sea foam on hot summer air. Gusting over your heads as you move along.

You met Nick in the pizzeria just off the boardwalk. You’d gone for a night out with friends. You both bonded damn near instantly over pineapple on pizza. Avid fans, addicts even. You ate pizza. He flirted. You flirted back.

He comped your meal when you went to pay. “On the house babe.” With a grin that should be snapped in vogue. Stunning,

Way too stunning, even in his company issue yellow and red polo tee with the pizzeria name embroidered on the breast.

He asked you to wait by the Wave Jammer for him after his shift finished. You did. The girls send you off freshly glossed and hair fluffed, sniggering.

He walked you to your bus stop when the boardwalk lights began to dim. Clicking off one by one. Sodium streetlights the only things leaving their dozy glow. The sound of the sea lashing sand in the distance. He gave you a sweet mind melting kiss. Backed by the harmony of waves and denizens screams. Passed you a glossy pizza flyer with his number scrawled right on it in thick marker.

He’d called. He’d swung by and taken you out. Your second date had been in a cheap mom and pop trattoria uptown. Candlelight, cheap Chianti, and happy conversation which quickly ended with you screwing each others brains out, up against the brick wall in the filthy back alley with your panties dangling off your ankle.

And now here you were- on your fourth date. Quickly becoming drunk on touch. You wandered the arcade dodging sugar buzzed kids, cheeks sticky with cotton candy, and abrasive punks with neon spiked hair. You were chatting easy, and flirting over arcade games.

Tasting sea salt and red slushy off his tongue. You tugged each other along and pulled too and fro like the inky tide wrapped up in the night just beyond the border of sand and the fierce orange lick of oil can bonfires on the beach. Life was fit to burst with fun. You were young and had lovesick heart eyes for each other.

He kept on ushering you close and kissing you again. Hand across your waist. Balmy hot. Even through your dress. It’s a strappy dress, bright purple like amethyst or lilac petals. You let your hair loose. Kinky and big in the humid sea air. Lou Gramm is playing clunky rock music over the speakers.

Nick is just next level gorgeous. You have to admit. Literally panty dropping. Lips rose pink. Caramel skin. Long lashes which kiss his cheeks like he’s Bambi. Smile like a damn Calvin Klein model. And the dark sweep of coiffed curls to match. One cross earring glimmers against the backdrop of his hair.

You keep sneaking your hand in the back pocket of his trousers. Disgustingly crushing on this man. The way he loops his arm to your waist though, says he returns very that sentiment.

He looks totally casual here next to you in bleach blue jeans, sneakers, and a blood wine shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Arm slung around your waist as you lean at the balustrade looking down onto the beach opposite a tacky tourist gift shop selling keychains and chalk painted rocks. Snow globes swirl with chunky glitter from glass shelves in the window.

His arm suddenly squeezes you in closer when a gaggle of dirt bikes shriek their way up the board walk toward you, pedestrians scattered like ripples on waves to avoid being mowed flat. Four bikes. You can hear seedy rock blasting from a boom box that one of them has strapped to their bikes. WASP, you think. All shriek and shred.

They weave and race through the thinning crowds. Whooping and hollering like a pack of feral hyenas. Tongues out. Grinning sneers at people like Jack O’Lanterns. One with a backcombed blonde mullet that’s stiff with product, and made you think of a lions mane, makes a crazed face at you both. Tongue pointing out his mouth as he leers at you both especially. Tight white pants on and a swallow tail pointed coat like a dam circus ringleader flying behind him. He’s looking you up a down with a flick of his eyes. Hungrily.

As soon as they came, all noise, filth and fury, they go. Racing fast off into the night in a stinking cloud of engine exhaust and harrowing, whooping cackles.

“Jerks.” You scoff derisively. Glaring after the deafening bikes. Had Nick not pulled you in they’d have knocked you flat. He nuzzled your jawbone. Kisses you there too.

“It’s alright baby. I got you.” He smiles. You put your hand on his. Thankful. You kiss him again. His hand comes up and cups the back of your head.

It’s then you first feel it.

Something stings on your skin. Sudden and sharp. Mean. Like a bite, or a pinch. A little drop of sulphuric acid. Right at the nape of your neck. Feeling of your hair standing up on end. Skin turns to poison pinpricks.

Someone’s eyes were on you.

You pull back, Nick’s hand slips back on your neck, you’re glancing around trying to see through the thronging clouds, to catch whoever was looking at you. Your hair whips around your face from the sea air. The breeze that wraps your skin.

It brings the smell of you right on across to him. Past the stench of hot dogs, salty sandy air, and sea froth. Sweat and cheap perfume, plus the scent of some recently used pink bar soap caught in the crease of your elbow.

Drifting across. Calling to him the same way that throb of your carotid does. A full lively artery housed under sweat stroked skin. He bets you taste simply delicious. Syrupy like hot honey. He’s salivating already.

He’s tucked away where he usually is. Playing at the lie of life, watching on from the shadows, up on the roof of the tacky gift shop, puffing on a cigarette. A lone evil fiery eye cutting in the dark. Eyes scraping over every pretty person in this crowd, and seeing who, oh who, will be his dinner.

Eenie. Meenie. Miney. You-

He’s up there. Keeping shadows company. Wind carving around him on the roof. Wrapped up in a big bomber leather jacket, the words ‘GO TO HELL’ scrawled across his back in white letters, emblazoned with rhinestones. An assortment of buckles and zips hanging off him, where he perched like a bat - a bat fresh off the brooding Bauhaus nightclub scene. Not even the Santa Carla heat could penetrate his skin and warm his old, dead bones.

Bones, under lean muscles and skin glittering in so much jewellery. Studs and chains hang off his shoulders. and biker boots. Many chains, necklaces, one strand of pearls and a rosary, dripping with crosses linked across his neck - darkly ironic nature of that made him smile. A gothic dipped punk bearing holy crosses. Eyes lined in kohl. Scratchy tattoos on his arms. Fingers layered in goth rings. Daggers in hearts. Crosses and bejewelled skulls. Billy Idol eat your fucking heart out.

Don’t tempt him actually. He’s too hungry. He’d swallow a heart tonight in one clean bite.

Hair slicked back on his head, coming to a kinked curl where it brushes his collar. Eyes dipped into cinnamon brown. But in all these neons they seemed to drop acidly into nasty black. Wide and dark like a cats. Something that definitely prowls and lopes around with grave grace. Danger simmers to a boil constantly around him and every gang on this boardwalk has learned the hard way not to mess. He’s made ugly reminders when those moron gangs get too big for their knock off DM boots.

He will serve grisly reminders of why he’s the top of the food chain here - with great feral pleasure. He’s been here since before the boardwalk itself even existed. Way back when it was a victorian bathhouse for fucks sake.

He takes a deep pull. Plucks the fiery cig from his smirking mouth. Fingernails blunt and chipped painted black underneath his fingerless leather gloves. Teeth too white and sharp as he smiles. Marlboro smoke curling around carnivore teeth.

He flicks the cigarette away. Sparks spray across the roof where it lands. Done with it. He’s found his next source of satisfaction. His hunger is awake and roaming. Baying for a feed.

He watches your date take your hand. Twirl you in his arms so your hair and your pretty skirts fly. He leads you towards the cotton candy stand. You can hear the old timey jangle of fun fair music. He likes the thought of pure spun sugar - blue as cornflowers - being ready for him on the bed of your tongue.

A smirk writ across his lips as he steps, then drops fully into the shadows behind the building. His sturdy boots crunch on fast food trash as he lands. Greasy puddles capturing neon signs make up this back alley. Now his blood is pumping hot. He licks his lips.

You’re on the carousel when you feel it come back again. Stronger. Nearer. You feel a gaze burn the back of your head like someone’s stubbing out a cigarette on you.

So sudden it makes you pull back from his kiss - like you’d been suddenly jabbed with a huge hypodermic needle. Felt the chilling flush of cold poison slide into your blood.

Cause baby, that’s him all over.

Every inch caustic, acidic poison.

The worst of the very worst, of hell’s lowest dredgings.

A flush of unease grabs you. Gasping, you twist from where you’re sat on the horse. Holding the twisted pole. Bracelet sliding down your arm. That sensation- it scared you.

Music whirls in your ears. Sea air laced with the scent of kettle corn pulses around you with the red and yellow lights. You peer around to try and see in-between the poles and crowds.

You can’t see anything noticeable. No one stands out. They’re all blurs and distortion whizzing by you to a chirpy carnival tune. You watch for eyes to meet yours as you dip and bob on the horse, and none come.

“Babe?” Nick asks you. His dark brows creasing in the middle from your sudden flinching away.

Hand comes warm and comforting on your arm. Trying to bring you back. You turn. But your stomach is squirming with unease. You mask it with a smile. Sweet as the huge cotton candy he just bought you.

“It’s nothing...” You chirp. A Lie. Your hand back on his again. Letting his comforting smile buoy you. You settle your attention back to him. Not to the graze on your skin that’s coiling your spine like a fucking venom spitting serpent.

“Why don’t I go and get us something to drink huh? Maybe a lemonade?” He suggests. Swinging around the horse and lifting the back of your hand to his mouth to kiss it. The other is rubbing the back of your neck. Soothing way your clammy panic.

It makes you smile. His doting on you. Made you feel like you hung the stars. With your head spinning and your nerves nudged into the wrong side of uneasy, you could use some sugar and a welcome distraction.

“That would be great, actually...” You smile. It feels hollow even to your mind. Your head is spinning like a top on this carousel and you want something sweet to wash everything sour thats nipping at your mind, away.

He kisses you sweetly on the lips. Taste of sea salt and cherry slushie again. Savouring him before he goes. Ralph Lauren cologne. His soft curls through your fingers before he steps away. And then with a flash of that stunning smile, he hops off the carousel, and within a minute he’s gone. Swallowed into the heaving crowds.

So you bob and dip on the carousel horse all on your own. Watching the room fly by in a twirl of chilli red and golden yellow.

You’re not without company for very long.

Distracted, you scan the entrance to the carousel for Nick on what must be your final whirl around.

So distracted are you, head turned, back to him. It allows him to sneak in.

Your spine once again turns to scraping prodding needles when a drift of something comes over your shoulder. Something insidious slides to your conscious; something acrid yet smooth you take notice of. You liken it to whiskey. Smooth yet rough all at once. You hate whiskey.

Smoky cigarettes bittered with engine exhaust. A sweet tinge of cotton candy. Copper metal, warm pennies. The heavy presence of someone lingering behind you. The brush of a clammy leather jacket. The sound of a leather glove squeezing and twisting on the pole of the horse opposite you.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing riding all on her own?” Comes a dulcet purr from beside you.

You look at the source of this voice; seeing nothing but a trouble wrapped punk suddenly stood next to you. As if materialised from the same acrid engine smoke that clings to his leathers.

Brown eyes deep enough to dive in. In this light, they are black as a cats. A smirk on his face that makes you shiver. Lips so plump and beautiful it made you think of kisses - plump lips slick with too much spit and wet tongues. He had lips that looked like paradise - the likes you’ve seen only in seedy pornos. However. Trouble virtually hummed through him like a live wire. Get too close risk getting your fingers singed, girl. Burnt ozone.

“Looking like a lost little baby bird. All alone out your nest.” He comments as you frown at him.

“I’m not on my own. I’m with someone.”You tell him. Steely ire woven to your words like chain mail. Back off creep.

“Lucky someone.” He shoots back. All panther smooth. Packed with flirt. Eyes roaming down to your legs and back up again. He can smell that pretty boys cologne and sweat he’d rubbed all over you. The stink of some prissy designer cologne. That won’t do at all.

“Can’t convince you to ditch them can I? Baby.” He smirks. Prowling around you.

“I got a bike. We could take a little drive up the beach a ways down west. Past the bluff. I know a cosy little spot. Get a campfire going.” He charms.

You feel the imperative need to keep your eyes on him. Untrusting.

He moves with such liquid fluidity not even the whirl of the carousel affects his gait. Walks with a cocksure pace like he owns the place. He’s done this before. Doubtless.

“No thanks.” You reply archly. You know trouble when it comes loping up to your side in eyeliner and jangling jewellery. Plain as the nose on your face.

Of course it doesn’t put him off one bit. It makes him dig his teeth in deeper. With glee. The challenge was the tastiest part of the chase.

He chuckles. “Only, I’m awful curious. Never seen you round here before. Now, I’d sure as shit remember a pretty face like yours.”

“I’m not a tourist. I live here.” You reply snippily. You live but two miles from here. With your dying houseplant for company and dead end job. Your only relative being your old blind aunt, Lillian.

“And I don’t remember wanting an annoying prick to come crashing my date, trying his luck and barking up the wrong tree entirely.” You snap back. A pretty little nasty smile on your lips. Sweet like cherries and cream.

“Breaking my heart over here, sugar.” He smiles. Undeterred.

You doubt he had one to break.

He was all smarm and swagger. Definitely sans heart.Probably had tried it on with any easy party girl who got drunk and made moony love eyes in his direction. He seems like he has some void inside. Something he tried to fill with stranger sex and drugs and trouble. And blood.

And it’s something he’ll never be able to satiate. Not with all the infinite time he’s literally got viced in his leather gloved hands.

So he daggers his way through these crowds. Chows down cheap boardwalk takeout from the golden dragon right out the cartoon. Sneaks into rides without paying. Pick pockets sunburnt tourists. Snorts lines of angel dust off filthy bathroom counters. Throws molly down his neck every night and washes it down with tequila shots. Endlessly abrasive to all authority and flirting with anything bearing a pulse. Dynamite pace predator life. Undisputed King of this neon arcade kingdom.

“Maybe I could bark up the right tree.” He seeks.

“My date will be back soon.” You say. In the hopes it shakes him off. Makes him get a clue.

“He seems to be taking his sweet ass time. Doesn’t he…. Maybe he got lost.” He decides. Voice all sing song and light.

Swaying in closer like you aren’t giving him ‘fuck off’ vibes. Eyeing daggers. How he so likes sharp things. Lust that feels like it could prick skin it’s so sharp. Theres smoke and something mysteriously copper on his breath.

“Maybe there’s a line.” You concede. Boredly done with this conversation. The carousel has to be coming to a stop soon. You want to get off this ride. It’s not fun anymore.

“Maybe he’s gotten distracted by something leggy and pretty…” He remarks with a raise of his brows. “No shortage of skirt round here.” He grins.

It feels like swallowing a boulder to admit to that. Nick was a flirt, sure. You guys weren’t exclusive. But that nasty shred of doubt made a home in your stomach. Birthed anxiety in your veins.

“Listen jerk, go play around with someone else, alright.” You snap. Eyes narrowed You pull your purse strap on your shoulder. You slip off your horse and come to stand. Ready to get off. Rides no fun anymore.

“Names Frances.” He supplies. “And uh, I’m good baby bird. Don’t have anywhere else I gotta be.”

“Lucky me.” You bite out. Tone all sharp poison.

Oh, he wanted to take you home right now and turn your goddamn bed into a crime scene - or the aftermath of a porno shoot. Maybe both if he’s feeling generous.

“Now, If you wouldn’t mind y’know….fucking off…” You make a move to pass him. You’re gonna go find Nick.

He doesn’t budge an inch.

You stand firm. Chest to chest. His arms make brackets against the poles. Closing you in. He tilts his head. The kink in his hair brushes against his collar. A ruinous little curl comes loping over his forehead.

“Come find me if you want a real date. Little bird. I’ll make good and sure that you won’t be able to walk afterwards.” He smirks.

Before reaching one half leather clad finger over to brush a curl of hair back over your bare shoulder. His touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. Serpent slither down your spine that claws at your heels. Flushed arsenic in your blood.

“I’ll make it hard for you to walk right now if you don’t get out my way.” You threaten.

He seemed mildly turned on by the idea. “Promise or a threat?” He checks.

“Move.” Comes bitten out your mouth. All low and venomous. He likes the shape of your lips when you’re angry. Lush. Angry. He likes your lipstick too. Love to taste that.

“I hang out by the arcade. Join me when you doubtlessly get bored of that sad sack boy.” He smiles as if it’s certain. As if he already has your agreement on the subject. Loitering in the nearest arcade shadow near you, ready.

“I’ll be waiting, Birdie.” He whispers filthily into your ear. Too close for comfort.

A zip of danger as you feel hot cigarette breath ghost over the tip of your ear. His chest front brushing yours. Zips and buckles and necklaces. Cold. Makes heart race like hypoxia. You feel drunk and stunned. Scary drunk. And stunned in a nasty stinging way - like you’ve been electrified and can’t move.

You actually feel your heart internally jolt when he puts his mouth to your cheek. Presses a kiss to your cheekbone that you feel sink into your bones like acid.

You jolt. The ride slows to a stop.

You blink back into reckoning, peering around. In amongst the bubbling crowds of teens getting off. Parting around your prone form like water around a rock as you lean on the horse for mercy. You can’t see him. He’s gone. In a snap of leather and seemingly, the blink of an eye. A puff of smoke. Like those old magicians in black and white movies - masking exit in a cloud of silvery sulphur.

You get off the ride and fight your way through the throngs to come out to the boardwalk. The endless ocean before you. Black as spades as the waves lash the shore. Music follows you as you walk along to the food stands.

You kept scanning the crowds. Hoping one face would resemble his. That he’d be walking back to you with that million dollar white smile, and a couple cups of lemonade in his hands. You keep searching.

Nothing.

You get to the food stalls. Spend a lot of time weaving around people, darting tourists and sugar high kids, and hoping to catch sight of him.

Your once buoyant heart begins to sink low in your chest. Clunking down each and every one of your ribs like a bowling ball. Crushing your lungs.

You hang around by the stands, leaning against the railing, feeling the balmy wind and sea air whip your hair around. You keep scanning. Hoping this nasty little voice in your head was wrong. That he’s just lost in the crowds, and he’ll catch up to you eventually.

It’s when the crowds begin to thin out, that the last remainders of your hope does too. Strangled to a silent suffocating death.

You check your watch. They’d be closing the boardwalk gates soon. The neon lights would dim. The only sound left soon will be the papery rattle of those missing flyers where they are pinned.

You walk briskly for your bus stop in heels that are starting to pinch. Your heart the same state as your feet - ragged and sore. You brush away tears with the back of your hand as they fall. You tell yourself it’s the salt in the sea air you can taste. That’s all.

You’d let hope make a home. More fool you.

Eyes, black as a cats, watch your back all the way from the building roof where he hides. Half cloaked in shadow. Lighting up again. Wiping drips of blood from the corner of his mouth.

He smeared his mouth on his leather jacket sleeve before putting the cigarette between his teeth. Chuckling as he pulled smoke in with crimson smeared teeth. Blood rush - singing with bliss and euphoria.

His poor lost baby bird. All on her own.

❤️ Tagging the JQ babes; lmk if you want removing or adding pls ❤️

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @sugarcoated-lame @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift t

[punk-in-docs]

Detective Quinn I found him- someone come pick him up pls

i love doing apologism for fictional characters. yes he killed people and ruined everything but thats ok bc i like him and hes my little baby. so who cares

[birdiewriteslit]

. “there’s nothing to worry about! my family will love you.” with jack!

and maybe jack has never really brought anyone serious to introduce to his whole family but she doesn’t know that… but hsi whole family can quickly see how much jack loves her

“meeting the family”

jack hughes x f!reader

birdie’s 300 celly

i LOVE this and this is kinda short so lmk if you want a part 2!

Jack would never admit it to you, but he was a little nervous for you to meet his family, especially all of them all at once.

“Bring your girlfriend to the wedding,” they said. “We promise we won’t embarrass you,” they said.

He knew his brothers would intentionally embarrass him in front of you, and even though the others wouldn’t make that effort, he still had never brought a girl to anything like this before, especially not one that he liked so much, and he had no idea how they would react.

It was Jack’s cousin’s wedding, one that he wasn’t particularly close with, but was still related enough to be at the rehearsal dinner.

Jack sat beside you, his leg bobbing nervously under the table. You placed a soothing hand on his thigh as you made easy conversation with Luke.

You met his parents and brothers earlier, and you hit it off easily with them. His parents had already told him how much they loved you. You got along great with Luke and Quinn, but they weren’t the relatives he was worried about anyways.

“So, Jack, that fall you took on the ice last week, pretty brutal. What’d you think of that, Y/n?” asked one of Jack’s younger cousins mischievously.

“What fall?” you asked, glancing at Jack in confusion.

“Oh, you didn’t see it?” he grinned. “He was skating a little too fast, and I guess he just lost his balance.”

“You can barely skate, Johnnie. Call me when you get off that bench,” Jack combated.

You ignored him, stifling a laugh. “Jack, when did that happen?”

Jack sighed. “At the Rangers game you couldn’t make it to.”

“Well, I bet you were glad I didn’t see that.”

“I was,” Jack said, glaring at his cousin who just smiled innocently.

Luke snorted into the beer he was trying to steal from Quinn, who was distracted talking to a bridesmaid.

“Give that to me, you’re not legal,” said Ellen, grabbing the bottle from Luke and setting it back down in front Quinn before taking a seat beside Luke. “And be nice to your brother.”

“Sorry, mom,” Luke mumbled.

Jack took your hand from his thigh and interlocked your fingers under the table. He watched you as you conversed with his mother, and how easily you made his brother laugh.

Your eyes were bright and your smile was big. He’d never thought you looked so beautiful. He ran his thumb over your ring finger and smiled to himself. He knew it was too early and he was too young to be thinking about marriage, but in a setting like this, it was kind of hard not to.

When he looked up, tuning back into the conversation, he saw the look on his mother’s face and knew she had him all figured out.

[nathaslosthershit]

We all know what they say

Mat Barzal x Hughes!Sister AU

Link to rest of it

liked by barzal97, trevorzegras, _alexturcotte, and others

birdiehughes Well you know what they say

view all comments

barzal97 Yeehaw

jackhughes no, Birdie, why don’t you tell all of us “what they say”

birdiehughes save a horse…

birdiehughes ride a cowboy

lhughes_06 what the fuck???

_quinnhughes grotesque 

trevorzegras you know what else they say?

_quinnhughes do not encourage this

trevorzegras wear the hat

birdiehughes ride the cowboy

colecaufield wow birds what would the public say

birdiehughes this is a private instagram account with 100 people on it. What “public”?

jackhughes what would mom say?

birdiehughes she thought it was funny actually

A/n: another out of order insta edit for Birdie & Mat🫶 this takes place after people know (im writing that fic rn)

[goggles-mcgee]

A Little Birdy Told Me 20

AO3

Beginning Last Chapter

Summary: Damian continues to try and get more information about the akuma class and Marinette while Dick is having an off day and just wants it to get better.

Only one brother gets what they want.

CH 20:

Damian may have jumped the gun on that one. 

He admitted that, willingly, in the privacy of his own mind. 

“To Dupain-Cheng? I mean sure but why would you like to know.” Chloe asked with narrowed sharp eyes.

Bourgeois was sharp, as were all his acquaintances so there was no point in lying, though he was confident he could do so flawlessly, his acquaintances had proved to be somewhat trustful. They all kept secrets if asked unless it was something trivial which confused him to no end. Allegra could ask they don’t tell anyone what she shared with them when it came to her having trouble mentally or her parents fighting but the group would tell almost everyone in the group how Claude had a crush on so-and-so from class-whatever. Richard said that is just how teenagers and friends are but it didn’t make sense to Damian and he tried many times to make it make sense. The only thing that made him feel better is the fact his father also didn’t understand. When he was in med school he told him how his study group kept his fear of bats to themselves but when he admitted to not being a fan of some musician that that information was shared and laughed at, but he stated clearly that the laughing wasn’t at him, just at the information as a study group member had explained. Again. It was strange, but Damian felt like this wasn’t one of those moments that they would share his information with others. 

“It goes without saying that what I tell you does not leave this table,” he began, “I know I said that if I knew something I wouldn’t tell, but given Bourgeois’s forthcoming, I too can be a little forthcoming. Dupain-Cheng is now a ward of my Father for the rest of the exchange.”

Vogel nodded and glared at everyone at the table as if to ward them off even thinking of telling anyone what Damian was saying. It was…nice and appreciated. Vogul reminded him of Cassandra sometimes and it always left him feeling warm yet wrongfooted. The blonde wasn’t his sister but sometimes she felt like it and that also confused him. Nonetheless he gave Vogel a small nod of appreciation. “After the events at Wayne Tower and what followed, it was decided that my father take care of Dupain-Cheng for the remainder of the trip and actual chaperones are being flown in. The original plan of having the class merge with ours has been effectively thrown out the window and negotiations are being made where to place everyone as they will be separated. Dupain-Cheng and her friends will join our class but it hasn’t been decided where Rossi and her sycophants will go.” 

Allaway pursed his lips together and looked deep in thought, it was like he was trying to organize everything that was said and unsaid. He was someone who liked puzzles and mysteries. “You guys are building a case?” It was posed as a question but Damian knew the other boy better. It was a statement. Damian simply leaned back in his chair to give Allaway his attention, it took the boy some time to voice his thoughts so Damian waited before responding. “The question is, who is the case against?” 

“I would think that obvious by now Allaway.” Damian scoffed. 

Allaway stared at Damian intensely until he let out a deep sigh, “Yeah, I know, I was saying it to be dramatic.”

“You’re always dramatic.” Damian countered.

“No. That’s Claude.” Allaway shot right back.

“Guilty!” Hardy sing-songed. Damian conceded. Hardy was always dramatic. Every announcement he made to the group or even the school was so rich in dramatics that Damian wondered if the boy practiced what he said every day to make sure it was the perfect amount of dramatic or if it was something instinctual. Damian felt like it was the latter. Sometimes Hardy’s dramatics confused him but Vogel was good at explaining what the dramatic boy was saying, she was basically the Hardy Translator.

“We are getting off topic.” Bourgeois sighed. “You really want to know everything that witch did to Dupain-Cheng, Wayne? Then you better buckle in and take notes.

Damian nodded and pressed the hidden button on his watch that Lucius Fox and his son Lucas upgraded at Bruce’s request, that would record the rest of the conversation. Though he did take out a notebook and pen, he never wrote in pencil, writing in pencil showed you were not confident in your writing or knowledge. He was trying to break out of the habit though as it was one Ra’s made sure ‘stuck’ with his heir. His grandfather would never settle for anything less than perfect and the one time Damian took a test in front of his grandfather and used a pencil, he was punished. Damian hid a wince at the memories of that particular lesson and instead stared at his watch, it was a replica of his Grandfather's watch , the one he wore when he was murdered. It was a bit morbid but it was the thought behind it that made it one of Damian’s most prized possessions. 

It had been a little after he had been…introduced to his father and a little before his father’s seeming demise at Darkseid’s hand that Bruce had taken Damian aside into his study to talk to him. Damian thought it would be another reprimand of his methods but had been surprised when Bruce handed him a small box with a bow on it. He had been so hesitant, so wary, so suspicious that his father had gently taken the box from him and opened it to show a watch. A rather nice watch though Damian had noted its somewhat dated design. Like someone had purposefully made it look vintage.  “ It’s made to look like my father’s watch, your grandfather, though I have no doubt you were…informed of my parents before you came here -”

“ I know everything about you, Father, and my grandparents .” Damian had interrupted, eager to prove his knowledge, his worth. 

“ I don’t doubt that, Damian, but you were told about them by people who did not know them. That makes all the difference. There is time for stories so you get to know them like I knew them but this is the first one I will tell you. ” Bruce had looked sincere yet a bit uncomfortable, Damian had chalked it up to his father’s weakness of not getting over his parent’s death. Such a weakness was not allowed in the League, but Damian had said nothing of the fact even if he could. Richard had been teaching him just because you could doesn’t mean you should. It was confusing but his father seemed to agree with the sentiment so Damian was doing his best to learn it. 

His father continued. “ When my father was ten, his father bought him his first watch. I never met my grandfather, but when I was young, my father told me grandfather wanted to start a new Wayne tradition. When the heir of the family turned ten, they would be gifted a watch. I’m afraid that the reason is lost in time and forgotten memories but my father wanted to continue this tradition. I got my watch on my birthday and 9 days later my parents died. My father had been wearing his birthday watch that night .”

Damian hadn’t wanted to interrupt but he did want to touch the watch and his father seemed to understand that so he passed back the gift and watched as Damian had caressed the face of the watch with his thumb. 

“ I admit that I have bought your brother's watches as well but I know you are struggling to accept them. I won’t lie and say I understand but I want to feel connected to them, to me, to this family. I wasn’t able to give you a watch on your birthday but I am giving it to you now. I had this made for you in the image of your grandfather’s watch because I want to show you how important you are to this family and me. I could have easily given you a new watch as I had your brother’s but you deserve a connection to your roots. I hope you like it. ”

Damian had only nodded but the small smile his father gave in return had filled him with such warmth he hadn’t known what to do other than let his father put the watch on him. Later, Alfred would explain that Bruce had the watch built with many hidden features to keep Damian safe and to make sure his son wouldn’t be without a way out of a situation. The watch was made to resemble the Rolex Submariner that Damian had seen in a case along with a broken pearl necklace and some loose grimy pearls. He knows they were keepsakes of his grandparents that Bruce kept in a protected case in the Cave. He didn’t really believe it would make him feel any more connected to the Wayne name than him already being Bruce Wayne’s biological son but wearing the watch and seeing the original in its case when he was down in the Cave actually did make him feel connected in a way he couldn’t explain. Thus it became one of his most prized possessions much like his first straight double edged sword his mother gave him for the earliest birthdays he could remember. 

Damian inhaled slowly then exhaled to bring himself out of his memory before he looked up at Bourgeois and gave her a short nod. “Proceed.” 

___________________

Dick was doing all he could to relax and show Marinette the company’s botanical gardens as it was something she had wanted to do. It was good to see her smile and flit from plant to plant like a little honey bee or something, but Dick couldn’t get rid of his tension completely. He was always like that after dealing with Two-Face even if it wasn’t the usual confrontation between the two, i.e mask to two faces but it still left him feeling the same. Angry, restless and most annoyingly, scared. He wasn’t the same little scared Robin but dealing with Two-Face always made him feel like he was. He thought he worked past all that! But seeing Marinette in his arms with a gun pressed to her head brought uncomfortable flashbacks of a different tiny black-haired blue-eyed child. A child who got cocky in his skills as Robin and helper of Batman. He could still feel the long-since healed injuries throb in phantom pain. Dick couldn’t help the flash of another black-haired blue-eyed child, older than the first when he learned that being Robin wasn’t magical or whimsical. Thinking of that never did him any good, if anything it brought about an enormous amount of guilt and anger that Dick didn’t know what to do with. 

“Mari-gold?” A very familiar voice pulled Dick out of his thoughts and he cursed himself for being so distracted. 

“Ivy!” Marinette shouted out in glee as she ran to hug the woman she had seen fairly recently. It made Dick smile though, this kid loved with her whole heart and it was something he admired. 

“Now what are you doing here, Sapling?” 

“I came here with Mister Dick and Mister Tim. Though we lost Tim pretty early on.” Oh yeah, they did. Though Dick was willing to bet Tim just went to the coffee shop nearby, he seemed to have a built in radar for knowing where they were no matter what part of town they were in. It was kind of funny though since Tim wasn’t even a big fan of coffee, he more so just needed the caffeine. The guy preferred tea but he was really particular about which places made the best tea, specifically a good ol’ Dirty Chai. 

“And what brings you to the Gardens today, Ive?” Dick asked, deciding to partake in the conversation. 

“Oh just making sure they are doing okay and to give the workers a restock of my special fertilizer.” That made sense, Ivy was, on-the-down low helping the Wayne Botanical Studies team. While Harley helped them more with their night time business, Ivy was content to help in the more official business. With the occasional helping hand stopping a threat if they “got in over their heads.” Her words. 

“You make your own fertilizer?” Marinette asked. Look, Dick was also curious about that but after finding Ivy and Jason talking one night with these big-ass smiles on their faces, all teeth, he was like 80% sure that fertilizer was some of Jason’s…problems. But there was no way in hell that Dick was going to try and confirm that, and he sure as hell would not be telling Bruce that little theory. 

“Yes! It takes time but it-”

“My Passion Lily! I got your Matcha Lemonade and look! I found a wild Wayne.” They were interrupted by Harley, which was not a surprise, and she was dragging a resigned looking Tim with her. 

Ivy merely huffed out a laugh at her wife before taking the offered drink with a kiss to Harley’s cheek. “Thank you, Peanut, I also found a wild Wayne and a little Sapling.”

“Mari-Doll!” Harley squeaked out before almost knocking the poor girl off her feet in her hurry to smother the girl in a hug. Surprisingly they didn’t fall over. 

“Hi Harley!”

“You guys saw each other the other night?” Tim said, confused. 

“And?” Marinette and Harley asked in unison. It made Dick giggle and helped relieve him of more of his pent up tension. 

“Well since we're all here, why don’t we walk around together?” Dick offered. “Bruce wanted Tim to get some fresh air so try not to let him sneak off again.”

Tim gave an offended squawk which had Marinette laughing once more. “I’m fine!”

“Yeah, okay Timmy-Boy.” Harley said with a scoff as she laced her arms together with Ivy and Marinette. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“You do need some time outside the Manor Tim. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up.” Ivy said as she happily walked with Harley and Marinette. Though she did grab Tim by the scruff of his shirt and manhandled him toward Dick. He looked very much like a cranky kitten. 

“What is this? Pick on Tim day?” 

“I believe Damian has that scheduled for next month.” Dick wished he was joking.

Marinette obviously noticed he wasn’t if her raised brow was anything to go off. “Oh?”

“He stepped on Titus’s tail three months ago, on accident.” Dick explained. “But Damian is very good at keeping grudges and he’s very good on cashing in on favors.” 

Tim merely whined in response and Dick couldn’t help but pity his brother for a second before he remembered how Tim used him as a human meat shield when Condiment King randomly joined in on a fight against some robbers. Apparently he was also planning on robbing the jewelry store after keeping a low profile from his then-recent prison break. Needless to say it took Dick forever trying to get the mustard smell out of his costume once again and had to beg Alfred for help once again. Even though Alfred refused to help with cleaning anything CK contaminated, it spiked his blood pressure or something like that. Dick thinks it’s because of all the first times he helped clean them up when the rogue had been new on the scene. That had been a long month and Dick had seen how Alfred got more and more annoyed each time they came home covered in mustard, ketchup, you name it. It was awful. Truly. So Dick didn’t feel all that bad. Stephanie was already coming up with a list of things to tease Tim about. She specifically waits for the days Damian declares will be Pick-On Drake Days so she has lists on lists compiled for that very reason. She hoards them and never shares until the scheduled day. Duke surprisingly joined in too and started making his own list. 

“He’s very dedicated.” Marinette giggled out.

“That’s one word for it.” Tim grumbled. 

From there they had a good time touring the different gardens with Ivy acting as a somewhat tour guide and Dick could see it was really helping Marinette unwind as well. The interview with Jim and Harvey had really gotten her tense which was totally understandable, it would be intimidating for anyone. Tim tried to escape a couple times but after Dick teasingly asked if he should get Tim a child-leash and Ivy offered to make one out of vines he stopped. He even seemed to be relaxing a small bit. It was nice, really and it seemed to be something that Dick needed too without realizing it. Eventually they went out for lunch and after they went their separate ways. The drive back to the Manor had been nice too, normal traffic and a nice playlist helped. Tim and Marinette had even made some good conversation, though Dick got worried at the mention of PowerPoints. He hoped it was nothing serious, but the fact that Tim found someone as obsessed with planning and making PowerPoints was a little frightening. Maybe more than a little, Dick could only take so many Tim PowerPoints. He loved his brother, dearly, with his whole heart, but his PowerPoints were long and…thorough. He even tested people on the more important ones with a freaking Kahoot match. Cass and surprisingly Damian always won those. 

As they made their way into the manor Dick was pretty much planning on taking a good, lengthy nap to catch up on the sleep he hadn't gotten last night. His brain felt fried and scrambled, like it couldn’t decide whether to sink into the depressing thoughts from before or just remember the good time at the gardens they all had, even Tim surprisingly had a good time. As he sunk into the couch in the family living room his mind seemed to settle on both. His eyes closed and he saw Marinette laughing and smiling at their afternoon activities, then it would flash to her being held against Two-Face. He could hear the rogue’s laugh deep in his bones, then it changed to the Joker’s unique cackle. Marinette changed from her to him to Jason at blinding speeds. He could hear Marinette’s voice firm and confident in contrast to the fear in her eyes when she told him there was no time and that she would lead Scarecrow away. He could hear her yelling and telling Alfred she and they weren’t safe. He heard his own cries and shouts mixed with Two-Face’s voice. He could hear what he imagined Jason sounded like when the Joker beat him to death. He could hear the accusations of others about his jealousy of Jason being adopted. 

That unfortunately brought up memories of the talk he had had with Bruce once upon a time about Jason and adoption. It felt like he had had to fight not only tabloids but even Bruce about nonexistent hatred. Dick never hated Jason, but he had been so caught up in his anger with Bruce that he let it affect his and Jason’s relationship. He had just been so angry and it wasn’t an excuse but sometimes it seemed like he was even trying to justify his actions to himself. Though there was some jealousy and hurt there that he didn’t know what to do with, okay he did know what to do but the fact it would have to involve talking to Bruce and Jason was not something that sounded fun nor easy. He liked a good challenge but that idea sounded impossible. Like yes, he was Bruce’s son now but for so long he was just a ward, like Marinette was now, he called Bruce dad, they lived together, they fought crime together, they took care of each other, and yet it took years for Bruce to adopt him. But Jason? Dick knew Jason was Bruce’s son, his first son, his favorite son. Jason got the Bruce Dick had always wanted and it had hurt. Jason’s death had impacted Bruce more than his parents. That was a fact. 

And…And Dick had no idea where this was all coming from. He knew he didn’t know Marinette well as her class’s tour guide but seeing her held against Two-Face, mere centimeters from danger had thrown him. She reminded him too much of himself and too much like Jason before his death. She wasn’t a Robin, she would never be a Robin, but she had been a hero like one. She saved her people as fiercely as a Robin protected Gotham and its people. She took the weight of her world on her shoulders, much like a Robin. She was a child turned soldier due to circumstance just like a Robin. Marinette was a Robin in soul with no Batman to guide her and maybe that was for the best but looking at how lost she looked when she spoke about the ‘akumatizations’ in Paris, Dick wished she had had her version of Batman. A mentor who could aid in the fight, who shared the knowledge and responsibility. Yes, there were other heroes, they were like her version of Teen Titans, but that’s just it she was just barely a teen, a child, when she took up the mantle of hero. And from the pictures Tim showed the family of the other heroes, it wasn’t hard to guess that the other ‘Holders’ were teens themselves. Seeing as Adrien was also a teen and a former hero. 

Dick, in a weird, roundabout way, felt responsible for Marinette. As soon as she looked at him with hope, determination and fear in her eyes he was hit by a wave of protectiveness for her. She looked at him like Damian did when he first complimented and criticized his work as Robin, he and Marinette had also pulled off a plan as smooth and seamless as Dick and Damian had been when they were the Dynamic Duo. Or as Dick liked to call them, The More Dynamic Duo. He knew his family was kind of freaked out by how well Marinette and Damian seemed to get along, but not him, sure he teased a bit but he just had a feeling they would be friends. Damian had been trying to get himself out there and make friends and he did have some! He just called them acquaintances right now but Dick knew it wouldn’t be long till they were bumped up to friend status. Though Jon would always be Damian’s best friend even if they weren’t in the same school anymore. They still video or phone called every day and they played games with each other online. Which games? Dick could never remember but the point was, Damian had grown and was very capable of making friends, it just took him some time. 

Speaking of time , Dick thought as his gaze lazily glanced at the clock on the wall. If he slept now, he knew he would not go to bed after patrol tonight. So with much reluctance he pushed himself up and off the couch. He figured he could see if Marinette wanted some company and maybe the two of them could get some tea and snacks from Alfred and tour more of the manor when they were done. It would help in the long term of Marinette’s stay so it was productive! When he got to her room he saw that the door was slightly open but it was still he knocked, if he could dodge a Pennyworth Lecture he would even knock his own bedroom door. As he did so though, the door opened more and with it came an overwhelming energy that left him feeling suppressed yet energized. He wasn’t around magic a lot anymore, but it always left him with the same feeling so he ditched being a gentleman and waiting for an answer and just barreled into the room to see what looked like a closing portal. 

“Shit!” That would be a dollar in the Swear Jar, but that wasn’t important. What was important however was the fact Marinette was missing, a portal had seemingly opened in her room and closed, and…and there was a note on the bed? 

‘Dear Any Wayne That Finds This,

Actually, are you all Waynes? I never asked, I should have asked. Anyways, please don’t freak out if you come to my room and I’m not here. Ladybug needed my help back in Paris and opened a portal to get me there. I shouldn’t be too long and hey! Maybe I’ll be back before anyone reads this but if I’m not then just don’t worry. Ladybug will return me once the akuma is dealt with.

 -Marinette who is very sorry if someone does end up reading this and is pleading they don’t worry or get angry.’  

“Double shit.” Dick said as he read over the letter. 

That was another dollar for the Swear Jar. 

_________________

Dick “Flying” Grayson @toflyistofall

Oops.

____

Bruce Wayne @therealbrucewayne

RE: Dick “Flying” Grayson @toflyistofall

       Oops.

Richard John Grayson-Wayne. What did you do?

_____

JBIrd @sidesteppeddeath

RE: Bruce Wayne @therealbrucewayne

       Richard John Grayson-Wayne. What did you do?

Ha! You got full government named Dickie! @toflyistofall

_____

Dick “Flying” Grayson @toflyistofall

RE: JBIrd @sidesteppeddeath

       Ha! You got full government named Dickie! @toflyistofall

Oh come on! I didn’t even add tags! How did he respond so fast?

#hahaimindanger

Next Chapter

[punk-in-docs]

Omg to a TEE. Come check him out babes. He’s a total scuzzy reckless slut of an LA cop, that smells like Dior. ❤️💋🚗🚩🔪

I would like to see Joe casted in a movie that is set in Miami in the 80's. Just imagine him wearing a tacky snakeskin boots, colorful suit, golden chain and his hair slicked back, while he is doing a line of coke in a stripclub under the neon lights. I know alot of people would like to see him in a romcom or something, but I need to see him being an annoying asshole. Gladiator is a good start because he gets to be the villain

Um...you do know that the goddess @punk-in-docs wrote this very character in her Detective Quinn series, right?

Sleazy, sexy, cocaine Quinn. HOT.

[callmemana]

I might be working on a (couple of) hockey fic(s)… 🤭

As the Metallica song faded out and the next song began, there was a knock on the glass on my opposite side. At first I didn’t recognize the man, so I ignored him.

He knocked again, harder and more urgently, gaining my attention. The brunett leaned against the sill, casually and slightly irritated.

I rolled my eyes as I lowered my music and rolled down the window on Mimi’s side just enough for my voice to be heard.

The brunett ran his hand through his shaggy hair frustratedly, the action making his dark wet curls fall in his face.

“Sorry, my parents told me not to talk to strangers.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not a stranger. Are you Brock’s friend, the one who’s supposed to pick us up today?”

“I might be, but I’m not telling someone I’ve never met before if I am or not.”

“Boes said that a woman in a burnt orange Honda would be here for us. I’m gonna assume that’s you?”

“Like I said, I’m not telling a stranger if I know Brock or not.”

I looked him up and down, there was no denying that he was far from being ‘just some rando off the side of the street.’

He had the build of a hockey player and had a ‘Canuck’s’ duffle bag similar to Brock’s.

“What if I introduced myself? Then I’m not a stranger anymore.”

“True, but I still wouldn’t know you enough to tell you anything.”

He groaned, “Dammit woman, please just let me in your car, it’s chilly out here.”

“Sorry, Captain, can’t do that. Plus I don’t have any candy to offer you to get inside my car.”

“It’s not like you're kidnapping me, I’m willingly getting into your car.”

“See, that’s how it starts, people willingly getting into strangers' cars. Next thing you know there’s an alert out for you and I’m hunted down by the police.”

“Did you call me ‘captain’? So you do know who I am!”

“I call everyone captain, don’t feel special.” I rolled my eyes with a smirk.

Before he could call my bullshit, I looked him straight in the eyes and waved as I rolled up the window cutting his response off.

The man knocked on the glass a couple times, spewing curses as his ears started to flush pink in frustration or the weather, could be both.

I took that as my cue to roll the window down again, the same length as before.

“Yes, captain?” I gave a half-assed two finger salute with a shit-eating grin.

“I think I’ve figured out your little game, you do know who I am but are playing the dumb blonde card.”

Quinn leans into the door frame, a smirk on his lips and a sparkle of mischief in his hazel eyes.

Lemme know what y’all think! 🥰

[historyhermann]

Yuri and Beyond: LGBTQ+ Representation in Animation in 2023

2023 began with a bang, with the premiere of the yuri anime The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady a.k.a. MagiRevo on January 5th, Velma on January 12th, The Legend of Vox Machina on January 20th, and Princess Power on January 30th. It went far beyond those which premiered last year, despite less yuri anime airing in 2023. [1] As a warning, there will…

[punk-in-docs]

Hello Babes. Hope y’all are ready for something that’s gonna drop drip very shortly… Frances’ x Birdie Lost Boys AU anyone? (Super super dark fic warning!!!) a spooky fangy boy in time for Halloween ‼️❤️❣️ he’s the stuff of your nightmares-

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 1 @hazzaismyreligion @sugarcoated-lame @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[birdiewriteslit]

“you read my favorite book?” with quinn! maybe he went on a long roadie and brought some of her books with him and she was looking for them and when he came back he has all of them

“reader”

quinn hughes x f!reader

birdie’s 300 celly

suggestive at the end

You heard the sound of the door to the apartment opening, and you sprang out of the bed, practically throwing your phone as you hurried to greet your boyfriend.

Quinn had just set his stuff down and kicked the door shut behind him when you threw yourself into his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he said, chuckling as you buried your face into his neck.

“Hi, Quinn.” You breathed in his scent, relishing the feeling of his strong arms around you after being apart for such a long roadie.

Over his shoulder, you noticed something sitting on top of his duffel bag. “Are those my books?” you asked.

Quinn pulled away from you, hands still on your hips as he looked down at the floor. “Oh yeah, they are,” he said sheepishly, looking back at you with a smile.

“I’ve been looking for those. I knew I wasn’t going crazy. Why’d you take them?”

Quinn shrugged. “I knew I’d be bored, plus they reminded me of you,” he said, squeezing your hips.

You glanced down at the top of the pile, reading the title before your eyes shot back up to his. “You read my favorite book?”

“Of course I did. It was a little boring, but I think your tastes might be a little different than mine.” He winked, grinning down at you.

You pushed his chest away from yours with your hand, rolling your eyes. “It was not boring. You just don’t want to admit that you like Jane Austen.”

“I don’t like Jane Austen,” he denied, following you as you walked toward the bedroom, skillfully evading his hands as they tried to grab hold of you.

“Liars don’t get head,” you said simply, darting into the room before he could grab onto your waist.

“That’s so not fair,” Quinn pouted. “I’ve waited so long for you.”

“Okay, Mr. Darcy,” you snorted, finally allowing him to touch you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

You felt him smiling as he admitted, “Fine, it wasn’t boring.”

“I told you so.”

He lifted his head, kissing on your neck. “Can you give me head now?”

You rolled your eyes once more, pulling his arms off of you. “I guess, but only because I missed you.”

Quinn grinned. “That’s good enough for me.”

[nathaslosthershit]

[3] Who is Birdie Hughes?

Mat Barzal x Hughes!sister

Part of the Birdie Hughes AU

Here is the link for the Masterlist 

Summary: Why Birdie is out of the limelight and the 3 times the Hughes brothers talked about their big sister

The three Hughes brothers becoming huge hockey stars and seemingly getting those talents from their parents, was a story told over and over. 3 out of 3 Hughes boys ending up in the NHL at the same time truly showed the talent this family possessed. But there was a fourth child, the oldest and only daughter of the family, that wasn’t so much in the limelight. This was on purpose, Birdie never wanted too much attention on herself, and she thought that with three famous superstar hockey brothers, she wasn't interesting enough to warrant attention. It was shortly after Jack was drafted, and the family began to gain much more popularity, that they were all asked to be interviewed, when she sat them all down to talk.

“I don’t want to be interviewed.” She stated, firm but not unkind. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Well, Birdie, we will have someone there to help you out and talk you through it ahead of time.” Her dad said.

“I know that, and I know if I said anything stupid or whatever they wouldn’t include it. I just think I don’t need to add my input. They don’t want to hear what I have to say.”

“Sweetie, they asked you to do it because they want to know. They want to hear what you have to say as the oldest.” Her mom reasoned.

“Come on dude, you are part of the family, it would be weird if everyone but you were interviewed.” Jack argued. They didn’t understand, which wasn’t their fault. Birdie didn’t know how to articulate how she was feeling. She loved her family, she loved hockey, and she loved how her brothers were talented and had bright features ahead of them. What she didn’t love was the guilt she had always felt for quitting. She was good and she enjoyed playing, but she simply wasn’t competitive enough. She didn’t feel the need to practice day in and day out, she never stressed about whether her team was going to win because she simply enjoyed playing. After a particularly bad season had ended in high school, her coach had sat her down and berated her. Accusing her of not caring enough, of letting down her team. She vowed then and there that the only times she would be playing was for fun. She didn’t want big arenas full of fans and the best hockey equipment money could buy. She wanted the public rink and to play with her family for fun during the weekend and days they had off. 

When Birdie had finally told her family she was done, they were confused. After a bit of pushback they finally decided that if she wasn’t going to be happy, then there was no reason to make her continue. She missed it, of course, and she felt terrible for quitting, but over time she felt less and less guilty. 

She didn’t want to talk about that though, she didn’t want to explain. She also didn’t want to feel like she was less then because she chose a different life than what her brothers did.

“You can mention me, I don’t want to totally not exist from your lives publicly. I just don’t want to be interviewed right now.” She said firmly. 

Silence filled the room, till they all began to nod.

“Also, just call me Birdie. I don’t need my name out there so some crazy fan can dox me or something.” This she passed off as a joke, but they all knew she was serious at the same time. 

Ever since then, the public has known little about the mysterious first Hughes child. Comments here and there from the boys or their parents about their sister and daughter, but not much more. A childhood photo here and there, but since Luke’s draft day, there hasn’t been much of her, unless it was a hockey game she went to support her brothers at. 

Over time though, this began to change.

It started with Jack.

Out of everyone, Jack hated interviews the most. He knows it has become somewhat of a joke and over the years he just couldn’t bring himself to care about hiding his annoyance. Luckily, Jack was only doing a small sit down to talk about his family. Nothing about a game he had played where they would ask if he was sad they lost or some shit.

“Now your whole family is very close it seems. How have they impacted your career and helped you grow?”

“Uh yeah, obviously we are close and they all mean the world to me,” what the fuck is he supposed to say? “Growing up with three siblings has honestly really shaped me as a person. I owe so much to my brothers and sister. Beyond hockey even. Having three people you are sort of forced to love and grow with has been a blessing, even if they are annoying. Birdie, my sister, has had the most impact I think. She has always been kind of a, um, mentor, I guess- I don’t really know how to say it. She helped me become a better person, I don’t even want to know who I would be if I didn’t have her to somewhat keep me in check growing up. She lives not too far from me, compared to the rest of my family, so when I moved to New Jersey she helped along the way. She also did so much to help me when I was younger. Driving me to practice, driving my friends to practice too. Also school, she is the smartest person in the world, I swear. Always gave me shit for tests I would do bad on, but would always offer to help me study. And I gave her every single essay to proofread, which led to more bullying from her, but I never got too bad of a grade after she put her input in.” He was actually smiling and laughing, which is not common for Jack during an interview.

“She must be your favorite huh?” The interviewer said laughing.

“Oh she is everyone’s favorite. Although we all know Luke is her favorite. That's only because he is the youngest. She calls him ‘her baby’, which she has said since she was 6 and he was an infant.”

Luke

“So, Luke, a lot of talk from Jack about your sister. Something about you being her favorite?” The interviewer asked.

“Oh, of course I'm her favorite. Not even a question. She loves to tell me how I will always be her baby brother, despite how old I get, which is kind of annoying.” he laughs.

“Most people would find it endearing.”

“Yeah until she visits you in college and starts yapping about how you are ‘her baby’ to all your new friends. They all thought it was hilarious and I had to put up with them calling me ‘baby Hughes’ for like a month.” 

Quinn

“Tough game today, Quinn.” The reporter said, not really a question but he still waited for the captain’s response.

“Yeah. I have family here today so the loss is a little more upsetting.” He said somberly. He really hated interviews sometimes.

“Your brothers were here?”

“No, uh my sister. She surprised me last night. Didn’t know she was coming till then. She works in New York so I don’t get to see her as much as my brothers do. Something that I am jealous about.”

“Ah yes, the first Hughes child. You two being the oldest- are you guys close?”

What a weird question. But honestly, Quinn would rather talk about his sister than the game.

“Of course. It was just us for a little bit and I was more of her younger brother then, but once the other two came along we became each other’s confidant. I love it when she visits, and she is a better guest than my brothers so,” he laughs.

“You said she works in New York. Is she also involved in hockey like her siblings? Seems like a family trend so I wouldn’t be surprised.” The reporter said. 

This pissed Quinn off and he knew he had to be careful with how he answered this. Being so close, he was the first person she told when she was thinking about quitting hockey. He knew why she felt awful and he hated it. He also knew that this question would upset her, so he had to do something to make his answer one that wouldn’t hurt her even more.

“No, she actually works at a museum. She is easily the smartest out of all of us.”

“Ah so sort of a ‘black sheep of the family’, right?”

“Not whatsoever. We all love her, and since I was young she has been like the coolest person to me. It's honestly hard to explain what she does because it is much more sophisticated than me playing hockey or you asking stupid questions for a living.” Honestly, he would have dragged the interviewer more, but was soon let go because they could tell he began to have an attitude that wasn’t very good for a captain. 

“Fucking idiot” Quinn muttered after he left.

“What's wrong?” Birdie, who had waited outside for him to be done, had asked.

“Nothing, just- you are smart and talented, and everyone is so proud of you for what you do. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“Quinn, what happened?” 

“The interviewer was just stupid. I had said you were here and they asked if you were involved with hockey. When I said no they were rude about it. Then I got mad. Fuck them though. Your museum shit is much cooler.” “Cooler than being a professional hockey player that makes millions of dollars? I don’t know about that, Quinn.” She teased. She was used to it. It was worse when people who actually knew her had added their two cents in, but some random interviewer wasn’t going to upset her. She wouldn’t let it. “But thank you. I am not upset, I promise.”

“Love you, B.”

“Love you too, Q.”

[birdiewriteslit]

wildest dreams au: masterlist

luke hughes x f!actress!abigail abernathy

fc: the beautiful, extraordinary milly alcock

background: abigail abernathy grew up in boston (yes, she’s a bruins fan). her dad and jim hughes go way back, and they kept in touch for years. a few times a year, abigail’s family would visit toronto and the hughes family would visit boston. abigail and luke are the same age, and they’re the closest.

abigail’s works: shameless, outer banks; upcoming: the summer i turned pretty season 3

go b’s

luke’s girl

happy new year!

issues and exes

the boys are back in town

talk to me, moose

jealousy

[nathaslosthershit]

A lovesick girl calling her tired brother

Mat Barzal x Hughes!sister AU

Summary: After such a wonderful night with Mat, Birdie needs someone to talk to someone, and seeing as most of her friends are probably asleep…

Link to rest of AU

She let out a giggle, like an actual giggle. Alone, in her very dark apartment. She felt so happy that she was giggling. God, this was a feeling she could get used to. 

Birdie needed to talk to someone or else she was not going to get any sleep. But looking at the time, 2:53 am, she knew she wasn’t getting through to anyone. At least not without causing a panic. But as she sat, still in the dark, and watched it turn 3 am, she decided to call the one person that may be annoyed she is calling, but will always pick up. 

And after two rings, he answered. 

“It is midnight here. That's like what, 3 for you? Why are you up and calling me?” Her younger brother, Quinn, asked.

“Please I just had the most amazing night and everyone is asleep. But if you are so annoyed I am sure Trevor would love to talk with-”

“No. I’m sorry, please do not call that idiot. I seriously don’t know why you like him so much.”

“You know why I love him and that is off topic. Can I please just explain what I have been doing for the past few hours?”

“Go ahead.”

From deciding to go up and talk to Mat, to him kissing her cheek before she walked back to her apartment, Birdie left out very few details of her encounter with him. Well, except for one very important detail. 

“So who is this guy?” Quinn asks, smiling. It is nice to hear his older sister so happy. And despite what he is letting on, he is thrilled she decided to call him instead of her friends or their younger brothers… or, god forbid, Trevor Zegras. 

But just as she goes to quickly explain that hockey players are still not her type, and yes she knows she has dated a few too many for that to be true, and yes this man is in fact a hockey player, she decided against it. Maybe a little mystery wouldn’t be so bad. 

“Nope, I am keeping this one to myself for now. If it goes anywhere then maybe you will get to know.” “Come on, dude. You just spent the past 30 minutes talking about how you met ‘the most beautiful man in the world who is definitely your soulmate” and now you are saying it might not go anywhere? Give me a break.”

“I am saying I don’t want to get my hopes up. I am seeing you in a few months. Maybe I'll let you know then if you aren’t annoying about it.”

“Bullshit but alright.”

“I should go its almost 4. Thanks for talking, Quinn.”

“You are welcome. I’m glad you are so happy about this guy. Love and miss you.”

“Love and miss you too.”

“And please never call Trevor over m-” She hung up before he could berate her very dear and close friend. 

She wasn’t going to get any sleep. Not when she had so much more of the dreamlike night to go over in her head again, and again. Birdie hoped that Mat was awake doing the same.

And he was. 

Taglist: @tpwkstiles

[callmemana]

‘Huggy can pull’ 💀🥰 ofc huggy can pull, have you seen that man? 🔥🫠🫠

sweet, sweet lover

quinn hughes x reader

summary: quinn and you meet in the tunnels of the rogers arena one late night, and no one knows how much quinn hughes is in love (not even you)

A relationship was never supposed to happen. It was an accident. Quinn Hughes rarely let himself open up so much to another person. You were working at Rogers Arena when you finally ran into Quinn Hughes. You were at the arena late after a Canucks game when Quinn stumbled out of the locker room. It was a rough loss, and Quinn had gone out for another skate after everyone had left. You were finishing up a project, walking out through the tunnels, when you ran into Quinn. 

His hair was wet from his shower, and he was no longer wearing his game-day suit. You yelped out an apology as he startled you. He felt terrible for scaring you, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone else was here. I hope I didn’t keep you here late while skating,” Quinn said as the two of you fell into a step toward the parking lot. “I was finishing up an article, don’t worry too much,” you smiled as the two of you entered the parking garage. 

Neither of you noticed that Quinn walked you to your car. He had asked you for your name, saying he had never met or seen you around the arena. You mucked it up to the fact that you were new to the team this season and that Quinn was a pretty private and quiet person. You drove out of the parking lot with a new number in your phone that night. 

As the months flew by, your friendship with Quinn grew. It started with late-night meals after home games or whenever he returned from road trips. Late-night conversations over takeout food about where the two of you could have ended up if you chose a different path in life. Quinn slowly let you see a side of him that he had never shown anyone. It was refreshing, and you couldn’t thank him enough for letting you know who he was deep down. Your friendship took a turn into a romantic relationship one late October night. 

You had made yourself comfortable on his couch for a movie night. Quinn entered the room with a bowl of popcorn and plopped down next to you. You couldn’t tell anyone what the movie was about because thirty minutes in, you found yourself in Quinn’s lap, your lips on his as his hands nervously found their new home on your hips. That was a couple of months ago, but the two of you had yet to tell anyone about your relationship. 

You were nervous about treading unknown waters. You didn’t know how your coworkers or his teammates would react. Or the organization as a whole. Not to mention, Quinn was becoming one of the faces of the franchise. It was a weird situation, but Quinn liked having you around. It made your heart flutter whenever he would tell you how much he appreciated you. He talked to you about his complications with opening up to people and pleasing people. Your heart melted when he said he never felt scared or worried about anything when you were in his company. He didn't know why he felt so comfortable around you, and it didn't even cross his mind that it could be love.

Quinn was happy for a two-day break between home games. It was needed for him and the team as a whole, plus it finally gave the two of you time together, which is why you were waking up in his bed with his shirt on. He had you pulled against his chest, and you listened to his slow heartbeat. You enjoyed these moments so much, just the two of you in his apartment where he wasn’t worried about who was watching. You loved when he was sleeping because you finally felt like he wasn’t thinking too hard or too much. 

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, but it was ignored as you dozed back into sleep. The two of you woke in a panic when you heard someone shouting Quinn’s name from the front door. It was Brock and Elias, calling out for their friend. Hushed whispers about the pair of shoes you left by the door and your blue backpack. 

You were silently running into his closet, and Quinn was pulling on pajama pants over his boxers. “Hey guys,” you heard Quinn clear his throat as he greeted his friends from the other room. “We brought breakfast, but we see you have someone over, so we can just drop off the food and see you later,” his friends spared him the teasing, saving it for the locker room. 

You and Quinn thought the cat was out of the bag at that moment, but Brock and Elias never put two and two together. If they did, they didn’t say anything. Quinn had told you about the teasing about his “mysterious girlfriend” that everyone was talking to him about in the locker room the next day. “Do you want to tell anyone?” you asked gently. “You and I know about us, and frankly, that’s all who needs to know for now,” he kissed your forehead. 

No one knew about your relationship until shit began to hit the fan. Elias had bumped into you at Rogers Arena, and it was just a simple giveaway: the same blue backpack on your shoulders that he had seen in Quinn’s apartment. Then it was your coworker spotting the hickeys on your neck that you had terribly covered up. The stress of the losing season was slowly getting to Quinn, and it was beginning to affect your relationship. You stopped sleeping over at his place and communicating only through texts. 

Quinn thought your relationship was over when you stopped referring to his apartment as home when texting him. He knew he was wrong for putting so much space between the two of you without telling you what was wrong. Not to mention, you had left his apartment a couple of nights ago in tears after he didn’t repeat that he loved you back to you. You finally had the courage to tell Quinn that you loved him, and he didn’t reciprocate the words for you. 

No one knew what was wrong with him. His game was lacking, and he was tired of hearing everyone shouting at him. Quinn wanted to do better, but he was too busy thinking of you. He was confiding in his older teammates, asking how he knew if he was in love. All of his teammates were confused but told him that he would just know.

The team didn’t know about you until Quinn took a hard slip into the board during a morning skate. He was unconscious for a brief second and was taken off the ice by the trainers, Elias, Brock, and Andrei. And all he could think about was you.

“I’ll drive you home, Huggy. You aren’t able to drive,” Brock said. It was just a bad concussion and a few stitches on his hairline. “Call (Y/N),” Quinn shook his head. “(Y/N)? The one who works here?” The trainer asked, and Quinn groaned out a yes.

You had never seen the Canucks locker room, but you didn’t have time to take it in as someone led you in. Quinn was sitting tired in his stall, no longer in his gear. “Hi Q,” you mumbled as you stood in front of him. Many of his teammates were off the ice, now watching the interaction between the two of you. He wrapped his arms around your midsection and rested his head on your stomach. You were gentle as your hands fell to rake your fingers through his sweaty hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as his eyes closed. “Let’s go home, honey,” you said. The other guys helped you get him to your car and threw his bags into your trunk. Brock was rolling the protocol for concussions off to you, and you were just nodding along. The team watched you drive off toward Quinn’s apartment. “Huggy can pull,” Someone joked. 

Quinn’s hand fell across the center console, landing on your knee, and he gave it a soft squeeze. “I love you.” The three words fell off his lips with ease.

[birdiewriteslit]

wildest dreams au

luke hughes x abigail abernathy

masterlist

note: this took me a week bc i have to go to school sorry y’all

abyabynathy

tagged _quinnhughes, lhughes06, jackhughes

Liked by jackhughes and 1,896,245 others

abyabynathy the boys are back in town

View comments

_quinnhughes DAMN STRAIGHT🗣️🗣️

jackhughes @/_quinnhughes 🙄🙄

abyabynathy @/jackhughes looks like someone’s mad about the loss

jackhughes @/abyabynathy don’t accuse me

rudeth skipping the bruins game??

abyabynathy @/rudeth this is the only exception

user1 @/rudeth why is he commenting

user2 @/rudeth are yall back together or something

trevorzegras when will you come to my game

abyabynathy @/trevorzegras @/dixiedamelio come get your man

user3 @/abyabynathy HER WHAT.

ekat19 miss my girl

abyabynathy @/ekat19 shameless days>>

madelyncline LOVE YOU DEAREST

❤️ by author

jamie.drysdale collab when🤔

abyabynathy @/jamie.drysdale hmmm

user1 @/jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras well well well

January 6, 2024

—

messages 9:40 pm

jack: so what is going on with you and luke

jack: you guys were being weird earlier

abigail: jack we’re in the same room just talk to me

jack: luke’s in the other room i am being safe

abigail: whatever

jack: so why has he been ignoring you all night and why does quinn know and i don’t

abigail: how do you know that quinn knows🤨

jack: bc he told me not to ask

abigail: yet here we are

jack: i dont like the vibes i need to fix them this is weird

jack: you never fight

abigail: fine he’s mad bc i made peace with rudy and i was with him the other day

jack: is that it

jack: your breakup was toxic but if you’re good with him now idk why luke would be mad about it

—

Abigail bit her lip, glancing at Jack from across the couch. “There is something else,” she said quietly.

Jack looked up from his phone and set it down beside him. “What is it?”

“You can’t say anything to anyone because Luke and I haven’t talked about it yet.” Abigail scooted closer to Jack and held up her pinky.

Jack intertwined his pinky with hers and motioned with his other hand that his lips were zipped. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“Okay,” Abigail said cautiously. “Luke and I kissed on New Year’s.”

Jack’s eyes blew wide. “What?” he practically shouted. Abigail slapped her hands over his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up!” she reprimanded through gritted teeth.

Jack made wild gestures with his hands and pushed hers away from his face. “That’s not what I thought you were going to say. You can’t just do that!”

Abigail shrugged. “Well, sorry to be blunt but I’m not sure how else you wanted me to say it.”

“I cannot fucking believe this,” Jack whispered. Abigail felt obligated to say something, but Jack brought his finger up to shush her. “You told Quinn and not me?”

Abigail rolled her eyes. “No, idiot. He just knows Luke’s mad about Rudy. He doesn’t know about the kiss thing.”

Jack grinned. “So I’m special.”

“You are not special,” Abigail said, exasperated. “I just don’t know what to do about this. He hasn’t said anything about it.”

“Abby, he’s probably waiting for you to say something,” Jack rationalized. “You know how he is.”

“Maybe. Should I talk to him about it?” Abigail asked.

Jack looked hesitant. “Can I ask you something?”

“What?”

“Do you love him?”

Abigail’s eyes widened and she felt her heartbeat quicken in her chest. “Jack, what?”

“I’m serious, Abby,” he said, his face stern.

“Jesus, I don’t know. I don’t even know where to go from here,” she admitted, running a nervous hand through her hair.

“You better figure it out because this is a big thing and I don’t want either of you getting hurt,” he said seriously.

“I know.” Abigail nodded solemnly.

“Do you want to be with him or not?” Jack asked finally.

Abigail thought for a moment. She always stopped herself from thinking about Luke like this. It felt forbidden to want him the way that she knew she did.

That night, when they kissed, it felt like she was on fire. She had never felt like that with any of her exes, not even Rudy. She always felt different when she was around Luke. He wasn’t her brother like Jack and Quinn were. He never was, even when they were kids. She knew the answer to Jack’s first question.

“I do,” she confessed softly.

“Then you know what to.”

“Yeah.”

Jack stood from the couch. “Goodnight, Abby.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

[nathaslosthershit]

Birdie Hughes

Mat Barzal x Hughes!Sister AU

In which the very private oldest Hughes child finally gets put in the spotlight, something she isn’t particularly found of

Insta Edits ❂

Blonde Allegations

We all know what they say

Fics ✺

Meet Cute [1]

A lovesick girl calling her tired brother [2]

Who is Birdie Hughes[3]

Why "Birdie"?[3.5]

Asks ☼