#quinn family fluff

[wintfleur]

omg stella telling her brothers she’s starting an only fans as a prank!! they would kill her

౨ৎ it’s just a prank!

﹕─┈ pairings ( Estella Hughes oc! X siblings! Hughes brothers )

°. — details ( g; fluff, humor. w; Stella being a little goofy and her brothers are being protective. wc; 2.6k )

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( omg nonnie you are a genius, I had so much fun writing this !!! So sorry it took so long for me to get out. I hope you guys enjoy it !!! )

°. — ( in no way am I meaning to offend anyone who does do only fans or anything like that, by writing Stella’s brothers not being supportive of her doing only fans. I hope that makes sense )

°. — ( feel free to send any requests of things you would like to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts! I would absolutely love that! Please comment if you would like to be added to the tag list! )

au masterlist — you can find asks under #💌stellahughes!

Stella was laying in her bed ⸺ well technically the guest bed in the guest room in her brother's jack and Luke's apartment. She was having her annual visit, and it was the time of day where her brothers were both napping, and she wasn't in the mood to go out by herself. She was honestly feeling quite bored not having her brothers around to annoy, that's why she was aimlessly scrolling through TikTok. But her boredom was quickly healed when she watched the latest TikTok lily sent her, a mischievous smile forming on her lips as her mind already formed a plan. 

Stella swiftly slipped out of bed and grabbed her hoodie and put it over her tank top before leaving the room. She heard the faint sound of her brother's voice coming from the kitchen, she could tell that they just woke up from their tone. Both of her brother's heads turned to her as she walked into the kitchen, Luke giving her a tired smile as Jack just groaned and rested his head on the cold island counter they were sitting at. “Can you grab us the milk?” Jack groaned tiredly and Stella rolled her eyes but got the milk for them, nonetheless, setting the carton next to the box of cereal the two were about to destroy. 

Stella pulled out a box of fruit snacks and set them on the counter, only using that as a distraction so she could prop up her phone to film them without them seeing it. She started the video and gave the camera a wink before she turned around and faced her brothers who were shoveling cereal into their mouths. Stella leaned back against the counter and asked, “Can one of you drive me too best buy?” 

 “Sure! What do you need at best buy?” Luke was quick to agree, wanting to spend more time with his little sister, Jack looked at Stella curious on what she needed at best buy, he was about to open his mouth to offer to give her his card, but she was already talking. “Oh! I need to get a ring light, i left mine at home.” 

“Why do you need a ring light?” Jack askes with a confused frown. Stella had to stop her lips from curling up into a smile at the genuine confusion, oh her poor brothers have no idea what they're getting into. Stella gave her brothers a smile and tries her best to sound as calm as she could as she speaks “Oh i need one to film my new only fans video and i left mine at home.”  

Stella bit her lip and turned to face the counter, pretending to do things, knowing that she would not be able to face her brothers without bursting out into laughter. The camera perfectly got both of her brothers' reactions. Luke choked on his cereal in shock and started coughing. Jack dropped his spoon in his bowl as his body went still in shock as he looked at the back of his little sister's head. 

“What did you just say?” Jack asked his sister, hoping that he and Luke heard wrong. There was no way she was serious ⸺ she couldn't be. Stella let out a quiet breath and tried to collect herself before turning around to face her brothers. She turned back around to face her brothers, holding everything in so she wouldn't laugh, she gives them a smile pretending to be unbothered “I need to get a ring light so i can film my on⸺” 

“We heard you!” Luke quickly cut Stella off after catching his breath from his fit of coughs, he shook his head in disgust he did not want to hear his sister repeat it. Jack looks at his sister in fear and shakes his head no, repeatedly muttering no under his breath. Poor boy was stressed. “Stella, you can't be serious! You can't have only fans” Jack nearly shouted as he placed both of his hands on the island counter. 

“And you sure as hell can't film your . . . your videos in our guest bedroom” Luke scoffs his face twisted in disgust, he did not need to know this about his sister, and he did not need to think of what she could be doing in their guest bedroom. “Gross” Jack whined in disgust at his younger brother's words. 

“Why not I really need the money” Stella did her best to frown, giving her brothers her puppy eyes that she knew always worked in her favor, but this time it was different, they were not going to fall for it. Jack's eyes nearly pop out of his sockets at his sister's revelation, she was doing this because she needed money? He quickly reached into his pocket for his wallet while Luke questioned her in shock “Money? Your doing this for money?” 

“Obviously” stella giggled with a shrug of her shoulder, gently biting her lip to hold in her laughter when she sees Luke hold his head in his hands and jack hold out his wallet for her “Here take my wallet, buy whatever you want as long as you delete your account.” 

“Awee you're going to buy my ring light for me?” Stella playfully cooed as she reached for the wallet, very much enjoying messing with her brothers. Luke's eyes widen and he quickly snatches Jack's wallet before she could grab it, over his dead body. Luke scoffs at the audacity “Neither of us are going to sponsor your bad decisions.” 

“Oh, trust me i don't need any more sponsors” stella stated as she tried her best to sound innocent and oblivious. Luke's mouth dropped in shock and Stella was sure she was going to see steam coming out of Jack's ears any second now. Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket with a mission “Thats it I'm calling Quinn, he can talk some sense into your delusional ass self.” 

Stella’s eyes widen and she quickly grabs jacks' phone out of his hands before he could get the chance to call their eldest brother, she also wanted to pull this prank on Quinn when she comes to visit, and she wasn't going to have them ruin that even though she wasn't really looking forward to it. Stella quickly shouted when she noticed the two heated stares from her brothers “Wait! Wait! It's just a prank!” 

Neither of her brothers believed her until she broke out into a fit of giggles and turned around to grab her phone, lifting it up and showing them that they were being filmed. A loud laugh leaves her lips at the sight of her brother's reaction to her phone. Both of their shoulders sag in relief and Jack drops his head onto the island counter and lets out a loud groan of annoyance, while Luke just crosses his arms and glares at his sister. Yes, he was relieved that it was all fake, but his heart was almost beating out of his chest from the stress she just put him through. 

Stella gives the camera a small smile before stopping it, she slides it into her pocket and clears her throat and gives both of her brothers an awkward smile. She could tell that they both were a little upset from the prank. Stella tries her best to sound enthusiastic as she asks her two now grumpy brothers “Who wants to help me plan out the same prank for quinny!” 

Now that got a smile on both of their lips . . . 

Now Stella was way more nervous to pull the prank on quinn than she was with Jack and Luke. Quinn was different. She knew it was just a prank, but she was still scared to see Quinn’s reaction. She was honestly going to blow the whole prank off, but she was starting to get annoyed by the many texts from an impatient Jack asking her if she's done it yet. Not only was she nervous to do it, but there was also just not a good time for her to do it yet. 

She has been busy almost every day, going out with her brother almost every day, Elias and Brock joining them. She was having a great time, so she really didn't want to ruin it by pranking her older brother by making him believe she was starting an only fans account. But she said she would, and Stella doesn't go back on her word. Ever.  

Stella quickly glanced at her brother who was focusing on the video game he was playing on the living room tv. They were spending the day inside, neither of them wanting to go out during the hot day. Stella discretely sets up her phone against a pillow next to her, her phone getting a good view of both of the siblings who're sitting next to each other. 

Stella lets out a nervous sigh before quickly starting the video and leans back on the couch, letting her phone get a great view of both of their side profiles. Quinn was leaning forward with his arms on his knees and a controller in his hand. Stella sat Criss cross on the couch and tilted her head to look at quinn as she spoke “Quinn i have to tell you something.” 

“Hmm yeah, what is it?” Quinn quickly glanced back and forth from his sister and the tv a few times before settling his gaze back on the tv. Stella nervously bit her lip for a second, quickly glancing at the camera before looking back at her brother. She spoke calmly “I think I'm going to start an only fans.” 

Quinn physically recoiled in shock at his sister's words, and the both of them were surprised that his neck didn't snap with how fast it turned to her. The controller dropped out of his hand and hit the rug covered floor. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not believing the words coming out of his sister's mouth “Excuse me?” 

“I’m thinking of  ⸺ “ 

“Why the fuck are you thinking about that?” Quinn asked in a sharp tone as he fully twisted his body to face her. Stella felt her lips twitch up at how high his tone got; it always did when he was upset. Stella pursed her lips before she could smile and ruin the prank, she continued to speak calmly “A lot of people have asked me  ⸺ “ 

“Who the fuck is asking you that?” Quinn questioned stella, his tone angry as he thought of people trying to convince his little sister to start an account, fucking perves his hissed in his mind. No! Quinn was not going to let this happen. She must not be thinking straight, he continued to think. 

“You’d be surprised, apparently I'd make a lot of money!” Stella pretends to be excited at the thought, even giving Quinn a smile. Oh, he's so going to kill me, Stella thought to herself as she watched her brother's concerned expression turn into anger. Quinn shook his head in disbelief, bringing his hand up to rub at his temples as he closed his eyes, a sigh of stress leaving his lips before he opened his eyes and looked back at his sister. 

“Estella, you are 19 years old! You should still be playing with your barbies or somethin!” 

“The minimum age is eighteen . . . I’ve been researching it” Stella hummed as she nodded, biting her lip to stop herself from giggling at the dramatic exhale he let out.

“Oh, is that right” quinn muttered sarcastically under his breath, he didn't know how to approach the situation. He definitely did not agree with the idea of Stella doing that, but he also didn't want her to feel like he was judging her or was disappointed in her . . . but he knew it was a little late for that from his reaction. Quinn let out another sigh before speaking much more calmly “Stella . . . is this really something you want to do?” 

“I think so” she mumbled, starting to feel bad from how stressed he looked. 

“Well, I um . . . all I ask is that you really think about it okay?” Quinn spoke softly as he reached for Stella's hand, softly squeezing it. Yes, he wanted to forbid her from doing it, but he also didn't want to take her choice away from her, she had to make the choice herself, and he didn't want her to feel embarrassed to talk about things with him. He continued to speak as he locked eyes with Stella “This is a big decision, you know. Once things go on the internet, they never come off. Just really think if this is what you want to do.” 

Stella internally awes at Quinn's words, his initial reaction showed that he did not agree and was not happy with her words, but he calmed down and gave her a mature and sweet response. Quinn lets out a surprised “Oh!” when he feels Stella lunges towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulder for a hug. Quinn is confused for a second, but he quickly returns the hug. Stella squeezes her eyes shut and speaks loud enough for her phone to pick it up “It's just a prank.” 

“What!?” Quinn exclaims as she pulls back from the hug, a giggle leaving Stella's lips at the confused look Quinn gives her. “It's just a prank quinny” Stella gets out between her loud laughter, her head tilting back against the couch. Quinn let out a heavy sigh, his body still tense even with the confession of it being a prank, he had to make sure “So you're not going to make an only fans?” 

“No, I'm not, don't worry!” Stella continues to giggle, her laughter only getting louder when Quinn lets himself lean back on the couch, his hand resting over his fast-beating heart. Quinn shuts his eyes and lets himself calm down, his body relaxing. “Oh, thank god!” 

“Why would you do that stella! Are you trying to kill me?” Quinn quickly shouts as he sits back up, many questions running through his mind. Who gave her the idea to do this? Why would she do this? And do you think I can guilt trip her into cooking dinner? 

“It was Jack's idea!” Stella was quick to throw her brother under the bus, quickly reaching to grab her phone to pause the video before it got too long. Quinn's eyes widen, and a look of betrayal comes across his face at the fact that she videotaped the whole thing. The last thing the camera gets is a shocked Quinn looking over a giggling Stella's shoulder. 

Stella tilts her head to look at her brother who got really quiet, her eyes widening at the glare he was giving her. She noticed a familiar look of mischief in his eyes, and she quickly got up from the couch and rushed down the hallway to hide in the guestroom, just as she closed the door, she heard the sound of his loud footsteps and the sound of him shouting. 

“Estella!” 

stellahughes has just posted a TikTok!

[caption: do you guys think jacks gonna be mad i blamed him? ]

username1 is Luke okay? I thought he was going to pass out from how hard he was coughing

username2 I- the way she blamed Jack. I can’t 😭

username3 they were stressing omg!

username4 the protective glare Quinn gave Stella when she said people were asking for it 🤭

username5 stella sweetie, are you okay?

Stellahughes no, I’m hiding from Quinn in the closet 🫤

Qhughes Hmm good to know

username5 did I just get Stella Hughes killed 😳

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°. — taglist ( @privatemythss @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lxvelyzoe @lovings4turn x )

[fruit-bowl-frontier]

I will never shut up.

Simply not possible, in other news lookie at this lil chaotic family.

(Skibidi link)

WEHEHHEHEHE Steddie mention.

For all its worth Stranger Things did found family RIGHT. And then they broke my heart.

MAY MY MAN REST IN SICK RIFFS AND A STEADY BEAT.

If I pretend he isn’t dead, he’s dating Jonathan and Steve.

[exilynn]

this is definitely Eddie from Echoes Nocteris, when he loses control, he's just a kid who needs love and attention. Luckily Wayne gave him some of that. the greatest of gifts. And Ayla, who continued this bond of affection and security

[sheena-is-a-punk-rocker]

Sometimes a family is a girl, her pet rat, a traumatized soldier, and his feral girlfriend

Got a prompt over on AO3 that was basically just Sebastian being Rick's lil buddy and it turned into Rick and Harley accidentally adopting Cleo and Sebastian.

Rick jolts awake at the sound of a soft knock on the front door. He can just make it out over the sound of the torrential downpour that’s going on outside. The knock gets louder. Harley stirs beside him but doesn’t wake.

As a precaution, he grabs her baseball bat from the corner of their room and goes to answer the door. He cracks it open, bat hidden behind the door, and is shocked at what he sees.

Ratcatcher Two is standing out in the hallway, soaked to the bone and shivering. She’s got Sebastian the rat cradled in her hands.

Before he can say anything, Harley comes up and wraps her arms around him from behind. “Who’s at the door, baby?” she asks sleepily.

“Uh… It’s Cleo and Sebastian.”

“Hmm?” It takes a second for her brain to catch up but suddenly she’s wide awake and shoving him aside. “Oh my god! Get inside, hun, you must be freezing!”

Cleo sniffs and tells them, “I had to leave my living situation—it was becoming dangerous. We didn’t know where else to go. Sebastian figured out where you lived a while ago, Colonel Flag, since you saved him from Peacemaker.”

Sebastian waves from his spot in Cleo’s hands and Rick awkwardly waves back. It’s true that they’d saved each other back in Corto Maltese but it still feels weird to be waving at a rat.

He can hear water running and then Harley’s back. “C’mon, sweetie, let’s get ya into the shower so you can warm up. Towels are on top of the toilet and I got dry clothes for ya when ya get out.”

Once Cleo silently slips into the bathroom, she turns to Rick and says, “Baby, I love you but you’re absolutely useless right now.”

“Right, sorry. Lemme get the couch set up for her.”

Harley helps him wrangle a fitted sheet over the couch and stack several blankets and a pillow on top of it. Once that’s done he goes into the kitchen to make some quick breakfast sandwiches—his specialty. He even makes a tiny one for Sebastian.

He brings them out to the living room and he sees Cleo sitting on the couch with Harley. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms. He can hear her saying, “I had to get out of there. We were fine until it started raining and we couldn’t find anywhere dry to sleep.”

“Well you’re stayin’ here as long as ya need to.”

He sets the sandwiches on the coffee table and Sebastian immediately starts eating his but Cleo looks wary. “C’mon, eat up. You must be starving.”

She reaches for the sandwich and takes a small bite. “Thank you, Colonel Flag.”

“Please call me Rick.”

He goes to the bathroom to clean up the wet towels and hang up Cleo’s soaked clothes, figuring that she doesn’t want an audience while she eats.

Harley’s tucking her into bed on the couch when he gets back, Sebastian fast asleep on the pillow next to her head.

She creeps back over to him, flicking the lamp off and bathing the apartment in darkness. They stand there and watch the pair for a second. She leans against his side and sighs, “Can we keep her?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, we can keep her. C’mon, let’s go to bed, Harls.”

----------------

Cleo awakens slowly from the best sleep she’s ever experienced. It takes her a second to recognize her surroundings but then she remembers last night. She stumbles towards the sound of voices and the smell of bacon.

“Sometimes I wish I had two of ya,” she hears Harley say.

As she walks into the kitchen she vaguely registers the couple wrapped up in each other’s arms as Harley sips from a coffee mug. “Why do you want two Colonel Flags?” she asks sleepily.

Harley promptly spits her coffee all over Colonel Flag, which immediately wakes Cleo up. Had she said something wrong? He’s now blushing furiously, which just confuses her more.

“I’ll tell ya when you’re older,” Harley manages to wheeze out once she’s done coughing.

Oh. Oh! That explains a lot.

Colonel Flag excuses himself so he can change his shirt and Harley busies herself with getting a plate down from the cupboard and loading it up with scrambled eggs and bacon. She sets it on the table and says, “Dig in!”

Colonel Flag comes back with a dry shirt on and says, “Okay, so we’re all just gonna forget the last two minutes and focus on finding Ratcatcher Two here a place to live.”

“Oh. No, that’s okay, Sebastian and I will be okay on the streets again.” It’s really all she’s ever known besides the four walls of a prison cell.

“Fuck that!” Harley says. “Sweetie, we can’t in good conscience just let ya be homeless again.”

“Why?”

“You… you literally told me you got threatened with a knife yesterday, hun.”

“Oh well we’re not gonna go back there obviously.”

She’d been squatting at the old orphanage with a group of homeless teenagers and that had been working out fine for the last month. That is, until things turned violent when one of them got too high and had a bad trip.

She doesn’t argue this time when Harley insists that she needs to be off the streets and that she thinks there’s a few units available in their building.

-------------

Cleo trails behind the couple as they make their way down to the leasing office. Her heart is pounding and she’s trying to keep her breakfast down. She already knows she can’t afford a place in this building—she doesn’t even have a job. She’s been resorting to petty theft to stay afloat but hasn’t tried anything big like a bank robbery again. The last thing she wants is to get thrown in jail again.

The property manager—a balding man in an ill-fitting suit—eyes the three of them as they approach. Cleo hangs back in the corner while Colonel Flag and Harley stand there imposingly.

“So, here’s the deal,” Harley begins. “Our friend Cleo here is lookin’ for a place to live. Got any openings?”

He snorts. “Sure, but I highly doubt she can afford them.”

She can feel her face heating. He’s certainly not wrong. She clutches Sebastian tighter, who squeaks at her soothingly.

“How much?”

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Nah, that ain’t gonna work. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna rent a place to her for three hundred a month, no more than that.”

“Do you know how much money I’d lose if I did that? I’m already renting to you two assholes practically for free!”

“Ya say that like I’m supposed to give a shit. Listen, we’re the reason you don’t have more supervillains crawlin’ all over this place but if that won’t persuade you, I got a baseball bat with your name on it.”

The property manager pales and manages to stammer out, “Ah, I think I do actually have a unit. But, uh, it won’t be available ‘til next month.”

“Perfect!” Harley chirps. She turns to Cleo and throws her arm around her shoulders. “Looks like you’re stayin’ with us for a couple weeks!”

As they’re leaving the property manager’s office, Harley remarks, “Ya know, I think that License to Kill shirt I got ya for your birthday really helped our case.”

Colonel Flag sighs and says, “Harls, we really need to do laundry.”

“Not it!”

The couple continues to bicker about whose turn it is to do laundry as they make their way back to the apartment.

“I could do it,” Cleo pipes up from behind them. It’s the least she can do to thank them.

They immediately stop arguing and turn to look back at her. In unison, they say, “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Harley elaborates, “You’re our guest, hun. We’re not gonna make ya do chores. Especially because it’s his turn to do laundry!”

Colonel Flag pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Harls, we’ve been over this. I gave you a break last week because you were hungover. It’s your turn!”

“Most of it is your laundry anyway!” Harley whines.

“Because you keep stealing my shirts!”

“… Okay, ya got me there.”

------------------

Cleo wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she knocked on Colonel Flag’s door. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him living with Harley Quinn, after their epic love confession in the ruins of Jotunheim. What she was surprised to see was just how domestic the couple’s life had become.

Over the next few weeks she listens to them bicker like an old married couple about some of the stupidest things but she also sees the way Harley comes up behind Colonel Flag for a hug every night while he cooks dinner, and how she’s always making sure he’s taken his meds at bedtime, and the way he carries Harley to the couch when she’s complaining of cramps and just wants to lay on the couch and eat raw cookie dough all day.

He’s even carried Cleo to the couch once when she embarrassingly fell asleep at the breakfast table—she really doesn’t function well early in the morning.

She’d woken up with her head on Harley’s lap and the TV volume on low.

“Mornin’, sweetie! Sleep well?” she’d chirped, just as Colonel Flag was carrying her abandoned breakfast plate over to the coffee table.

Having been homeless or in prison her whole life, she essentially needs a crash course in being a functioning adult in society. She’s never opened up a bank account, learned how to cook, or had a job.

The first order of business is opening up a bank account, which Harley helps her do. Ten thousand dollars magically appear in said bank account the next day and Cleo doesn’t question it. It’ll give her a nest egg to live off of until she figures out the whole job situation—if she even wants one, Harley comments. Being a criminal is a perfectly respectable career, in her opinion. Cleo needs to think on it.

While Harley is dragging her all over Gotham to various stores so she can buy things for her new apartment and clothes and other necessities, Sebastian is having the time of his life with Colonel Flag. It warms her heart to see them interact. Sebastian helps with the cooking and every Friday they watch football together.

“Baby, we’re gonna borrow the d-bag truck. Where’re the keys?”

“Stop calling it that,” Colonel Flag deadpans, without even taking his eyes off the TV. He rummages around in his pocket and tosses the keys over his shoulder, Harley catching them easily.

“Why do you call it a d-bag truck?” Cleo asks as they make their way to the building’s parking garage.

The car they stop in front of is a massive black pickup truck, and suddenly the moniker makes sense.

They come home from furniture shopping three hours later to find the boys sulking.

“Did your sportsball team win?” Harley asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sebastian squeaks indignantly in agreement.

It’s with a mixture of sadness and hope that she receives the keys to her new apartment on the first of the next month. This place has become home for her. She’s never felt safer or more cared for than she has in the last few weeks. She’ll miss watching movies on the couch with Harley and watching Colonel Flag and Sebastian cooking together. She’ll even miss the couple’s constant bickering about who’s responsible for doing laundry (somehow the answer always seems to be neither of them).

The sadness doesn’t last long though. She’s been moved in for two days when the couple shows up on her front doorstep, inviting her over for family dinner, as Harley puts it.

She ends up at their place every Tuesday and Saturday night for dinner going forward.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Christmas is for Friends and Family

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: When you tell Rick that you don’t do Christmas because it is a time for family and friends, neither of which you have, he makes it his mission to prove you wrong.

Word Count: 1510

TW: Fluff, Alone for Christmas, Found Family, Language

“Hey, Flag. Whatcha working on?” you asked as you casually sauntered into your partner’s office.

He glanced up momentarily from his computer then refocused on the screen. “Tryin’ to get these reports done so I can go home. I can’t believe Waller is making us work late on Christmas Eve.”

You plopped down heavily on the edge of his desk and grabbed a handful of candy out of the dish just next to your knee. “Seriously? That really surprise you? She’s like the Grinch, Scrooge, and Krampus all rolled into one.”

“Better be careful, if she hears you talking like that, she’ll never let you leave.”

“I don’t care. It’s not like I have plans.”

“Oh, come on, darlin’. It’s Christmas Eve! You can’t tell me you don’t have something planned.”

You tried to look as nonchalant as possible as you said, “Nope. I don’t do Christmas. Christmas is for friends and family. And I don’t have either.”

Rick looked slightly hurt. “I’m your friend.”

You popped another candy into your mouth. “No, you’re my coworker. You have to like me for the sake of the team. I meant people who I hang out with outside of work. Who actually thinks about me once they walk out those doors at night.”

You thought you heard Rick mumble something that sounded suspiciously like “I do think about you…all the time” but you brushed it off as wishful thinking. “No, I’m going to do the same thing I do every Christmas. Sleep in, spend the entire day in my pajamas, and eat three day old leftovers while I binge some crappy tv.”

“So, is that why you’re still hanging out around here even though it’s pretty obvious you are done with work?” Rick scoffed. “You just don’t want to go home to an empty apartment all alone? That’s just sad, darlin’.”

You knew he was kidding around, but the retort hit closer to home than you wanted to admit. You stood up abruptly from the desk. “Listen, I was going to offer to help you finish your paperwork in the spirit of holidays and all that, but just forget it.” You stalked to the door as Rick tried to sputter some sort of apology, but you ignored him. Just before you left the room, you spun around to face him.

“Merry Christmas, Colonel Flag.” Then you slammed his door shut loudly.

As you stalked down the hall to your office, you mentally kicked yourself for overreacting. Rick was probably the closest thing you had to a friend either inside or outside the walls of the prison. And the playful back and forth banter was just how the two of you joked around. But ever since your mom died, it had just been you on your own. And you liked it that way. However, sometimes on nights like tonight, the loneliness and isolation hit you like a truck. You had dedicated all your time and energy into your career but what did that leave you with at the end of the day? A one-bedroom apartment and some leftover Chinese take-out.

You sighed as you grabbed your keys and bag from your desk. Turning to leave, you were startled to see Rick standing in your doorway. Part of you wanted to rush over and give him a huge hug, to say how sorry you were for being a brat and storming off. But the part of you that was still hurt by his words was stronger. You pushed past him, jerking your arm out of his grasp when he went to stop you. He tried calling after you, but you just yelled, “I’ll see you on Monday” and kept going.

When you got to your car, you threw everything into the back seat and climbed in. It was only then that you let the first tears stream silently down your cheeks. Once again, you had been given the chance to make things right, and you had thrown it all away. And you wonder why you don’t have any friends.

A knock at your door woke you from your deep slumber. Groaning, you rolled over to see the clock showing 5:48. What the hell! Even on workdays, I don’t have to get up before 6. Whoever that is better just fuck off.

You didn’t hear anything else for a moment, so you snuggled back under the covers and tried to fall back asleep.

BAM, BAM, BAM. You shot up in bed as your front door rattled from the force of the knocking. Grabbing your bathrobe off your chair and your gun from under your pillow, you hurried down the hall. Reaching the front door, you peered cautiously through the peephole, gun raised. But you lowered it with an aggravated sigh as you saw the familiar Colonel on the other side.

“What the fuck do you want, Flag?” you yelled through the wood.

He pressed his face against the other side of the peephole, smiling broadly. “Merry Christmas to you too! Let us in, this hallway is freezing!”

“Then leave! I told you I don’t do Christmas!”

“Well, you do this year. Now let us in!”

You finally realize what he just said. “Wait…. who’s ‘us’?”

Unlocking the door and cracking it slightly, you were promptly shoved out of the way as it suddenly slammed open, and Rick and the entire squad burst into your apartment. You stared openmouthed as each of them filed in with armloads of decorations, food, presents, and lights.

You turn to Rick in astonishment, “How…What…?”

He beamed back brightly, throwing one arm around your shoulder. “Waller’s out of town so I was able to pull a few strings. Everyone’s got to be back by tonight, but I figured none of us should be alone for the holidays. Especially not when there are people who care about us that would love to spend them together.”

You watched as Harley organized the presents, Boomer frantically struggled with a box of tangled lights, Abner fiddled with your oven, DuBois and Lawton argued over the best spot to set the tree, and Cleo controlled a hoard of rats into stringing garland from the ceiling.

You were speechless. The tense ache that had been throbbing in your chest since last night slowly began to fade. You looked up at Rick through misty eyes, “I don’t know what to say. Especially after how I stormed out last night.”

“Ah, it’s okay, darlin’. I took it too far and I shouldn’t have teased you about being by yourself. I mean, I’m one to talk! Before I thought of this, my plans for today were eating a microwavable pizza while I reorganized my gun safe!”

You could feel his deep laugh reverberating throughout your body. It felt so comforting and safe, that you couldn’t help but lean your head into his chest. He glanced down at you and smiled, before murmuring in a softy voice so only you could hear, “Hey, I know this job can be tough. And there are times when you feel alone or isolated. But I’m here for you, always. You are so much more to me than just a coworker. You are the best partner and friend a guy could ask for. And I’m sorry if I never said that before.”

“No, I feel the same way about you. I don’t know why I said that last night. You’ve always been an amazing friend, Rick. And I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. And this?” You motioned to the chaotic merriment throughout your apartment. “This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” You rolled out from under his arm to stand chest-to-chest facing one another. Then you wrapped your arms around his waist, looking up at his face. “But I do have one question for you.”

He ducked his head lower until it hovered just above yours. “And what’s that?”

Lowering your voice, you whispered, “Did Cleo bring those rats with her or were they already in my apartment?....You know what, I don’t want to know.”

Rick chuckled again as he pulled you closer against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your back. You opened your mouth, but before you could say anything else, Harley popped up holding a wilted piece of parsley over your heads.

You eyed her curiously. “Uh, Harls…. What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t find any mistletoe. And I figured neither one of you would ever make a move on your own so…” She shook the pathetic plant for emphasis.

Rick and you quickly exchanged an embarrassed look but then he stared deep into your eyes. “It might not be the real thing, but it is a tradition.”

You smiled coyly back at him. “Colonel Flag, are you asking if you can kiss me?”

He blushed slightly as he muttered, “Well, you know… the mistletoe... and only if you want to.”

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him down towards your lips. “You never needed an excuse to do this.”

[yeahokcasey]

TAKING SMUT/ONE SHOT REQUESTS AGAIN‼️

i’ve had the recent urge lately to get back into writing, and i think the best way to do that is by starting to take requests for one shots? so if you guys want to request anything, here’s some basic info:

i’ll write about any fandom that i have basic knowledge of! some of those include (but aren’t limited to):

•supernatural

•impractical jokers

•greys anatomy

•bo burnham

•breaking bad

•american horror story

•twilight

so if anyone is interested in requesting something, please go for it!!

[actress4him]

March Trope-A-Thon Day 5

I don’t normally post two fics in one day but I’m trying to catch up a little haha.

More comf for Lili, which everyone loves to demand!

Taglist: @darthsutrich , @inky-whump , @painful-pooch , @pigeonwhumps , @bookworm2107

Previous | Next | Querencia Masterlist

Fandom: Original Work

Prompts: Fevers, Cold/Flu, Blankets and a Hot Drink

Notes: Takes place between chapters 12 and 13. Can be seen as a sequel to this snippet.

Contains: lady whump, cold and fever, reference to past homelessness, reference to noncon drugging

.

.

Liliana knew it was coming for a whole day before it fully hit. Her throat had been scratchy when she woke up, becoming actually sore by evening, but all she’d known to do was drink a glass of orange juice and ignore it.

That’s what she’s trying to do this morning, too, despite the fact that she woke up unable to breathe through her nose at all and feeling like she hadn’t slept in days. Part of her wanted to curl up and attempt to go back to sleep, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t work and knew she should get up and eat something, anyway. The team worked so hard to get her stomach used to normal meals again, she doesn’t want to throw all that away.

So she gets up, and dresses in the warmest things she can find - a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve tee that Nari bought for her on their shopping trip, some fuzzy socks that had randomly appeared on her bed one day, and a hoodie that used to be Alex’s and therefore swallows her whole. She’s tried to give it back to him multiple times, and he refuses to take it. Then she ventures out of her room and shuffles toward the kitchen, glad to find it empty.

She’s not really hungry. Despite the number of options on hand which still blows her mind some days, nothing really sounds good. She pours herself another glass of orange juice and sits at the kitchen table sipping it, trying to decide what she can stomach that she actually has the energy to make, and coming up blank. Even making a piece of toast seems like too much work when she’d also have to get out butter or jam to spread on it.

Finally she forces herself to pour a quarter of a bowl of dry cereal and sits back at the table, picking at it with her fingers and staring out the window at the river rolling peacefully by.

“Oh hello, Liliana, I didn’t know you were in here.” Quinn smiles pleasantly at her as he enters the kitchen. “You’re usually already done with breakfast by now.”

She puts on a smile of her own, though she can tell how weak it looks. “I slept late this morning.”

He just hums and nods, but gives her a long sideways look before opening the refrigerator. “Are you feeling alright today?”

Shoot. She’d been hoping no one would notice, or that she could stay hidden in her room most of the day and not encounter anyone. Swallowing her cereal and trying not to grimace at the pain in her throat, she searches for a good answer. “I-I’m, um…tired today, I, I guess.”

Quinn sets the egg carton on the island counter and stares at her. She tries not to squirm under his scrutinizing gaze. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to pry, but…you sound like you might be sick.”

Liliana shrugs, suddenly finding her glass of orange juice incredibly interesting to look at. “Y-yeah. Maybe, maybe just a-a cold. Nothing to worry about.”

He hums again. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you running a fever, or anything?”

“Probably? I-I feel…cold. And, and warm. So…” She shrugs again, as if that gesture alone makes everything less of a problem.

A few seconds later, he walks up and sets a thermometer on the table next to her. “We should keep an eye on it, make sure it doesn’t go up too high.”

For a moment she just stares at it, trying not to think about her mamà snuggling up next to her to hold her still while they waited for the thermometer to beep. She wants to say that it’s fine, she survived a cold on the streets without knowing what her temperature was or taking medicine or even having things like hoodies and orange juice to help. She wants to say no thank you, because if they have confirmation that she’s sick they might inject her with unknown medication and quarantine her, like at the facility.

But she obediently picks up the thermometer and takes her temperature, reading the small digital numbers aloud afterward with only slight trepidation. “One-hundred-and-one point four.”

It’s at that exact moment that Nari walks into the room, dressed in workout clothes with a sheen of sweat across her face. “Wait, Lili, are you sick?”

“She is,” Quinn answers for her. “One-hundred-one point four temperature.”

“It’s just a c-cold,” she’s quick to insert.

Nari crosses over to her and crouches down next to her chair. “Poor thing. You sound all stuffed up. Don’t you wanna go sit somewhere more comfortable? We can take your cereal and juice into the living room and get you set up on the couch.”

Liliana is quickly becoming overwhelmed by all this attention. “I-I was, I was j-just going to, to go back to my r-room when I finished. I d-don’t want to, to bother anyone…”

“Oh you can go back to your room if you’d rather. I just thought maybe you’d want to be in the living room where you could watch tv or a movie or something if you got bored, and have company if you wanted it. But that’s totally up to you.”

Watching a movie and having company does sound nice. She’s afraid that that will mean they feel like they have to keep checking on her and doing things for her, though. After considering the pros and cons for a moment, though, she finally slowly nods. “O-okay. The couch is, the couch is fine.”

“Cool! I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just gonna go prep the couch for you. I think Alex and Jamil might be in there playing a video game, but we can kick them out if we need to.”

Before Liliana can protest that, Nari is off, disappearing through the doorway.

“Is there anything that I can get for you?” Quinn asks. “I’m going to scramble some eggs for myself, would you like any?”

She looks down at the cereal she’s barely touched. The protein in the eggs would be better for her. And since he’s already making some… “If…if you don’t m-mind?”

“Not at all.” He sets to work cracking the eggs into the skillet he’d already prepared, humming quietly to himself.

It’s Alex who enters next, a frown on his usually jovial face. “Hey, Lil. Nari said you’re sick.”

She tries to smile at him because he doesn’t look right being so serious. “I-I’m okay. You, you don’t have t-to stop playing your game.”

He shrugs. “Well, if it doesn’t bother you, we might keep playing for a while and just keep the volume down. Is it okay if I touch you?”

The question catches her off guard. “Um…y-yes?”

“Alright, here we go!” Before she can blink, he’s scooped her up out of her chair, carrying her out into the hallway like a baby. “I call this the ‘Xtra Xpress’! Get it? ‘Cause my name’s Xtra…?”

Liliana is too busy remembering how to breathe to respond. She hasn’t been carried since she was a tiny kid. And of course she knows that Alex is super strong and her weight is nothing for him, but the surprise of it still blows her away.

They arrive in the living room, where an anime character is paused mid sword swing on the tv and Nari is arranging pillows on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind, Lili, I snuck into your room and grabbed your pillow. I figured that would be the most comfortable for you. And I’ve got it propped up right now so you can eat, but you can take the others away and lie down whenever you want to.”

Alex settles her carefully down onto the cushions. “Thank you for riding the Xtra Xpress, this is our final stop for the tour.”

“Thanks,” she manages to whisper, scooting herself back against the pillows.

Jamil arrives then with an overflowing armload of blankets. “I raided my closet for all the coziest and softest blankets. Just tell me when to stop.” He begins layering them on top of her one by one, stopping to make sure each one is smoothed out and fully covering her.

“That’s, that’s fine, th-thank you.” It’s just a cold. They’re all being so over-the-top nice to her, spending all this time and energy on her and giving her their own things. She wishes she could tell them to stop, but she doesn’t want to be rude and also…

She kind of likes it. It…feels good, to finally have somebody care about her like this again.

“I’m going to go make you some tea,” Nari announces, dropping a box of tissues onto the couch. She knows Liliana likes hot tea and will try most any food or drink, anyway. “I’ll be back. Boys…” She narrows her eyes and points her finger back and forth between Alex and Jamil. “Behave yourselves and let her rest.”

“We will!” Jamil promises.

“Yes, ma’am!” Alex salutes jauntily, then snatches up the video game controller and plops into an armchair.

Jamil settles down onto the floor in front of Liliana’s feet. “You okay with us playing?”

“Mhm.” She nods a little, and he smiles at her.

It’s only a minute later that Quinn leans over the back of the couch with a plate of scrambled eggs. “Here you are. I believe Nari is making you some Baesuk.”

“Thank you. She, she said something about tea.”

She slowly nibbles at the eggs, half-watching the anime character destroy monsters on the screen. Quinn doesn’t cook much, but he makes decent scrambled eggs. They’re hitting the spot much better than the dry cereal.

The plate has been empty for a few minutes when Nari comes back with a steaming mug of tea. “Here you go! It’s got bae - which is Korean pear - black peppercorns, ginger, and honey. It’s great for colds.” Passing over the mug, she whisks the plate off her lap. “Anything else I can get you?”

“N-no, thank you, you’ve…you’ve done plenty. I, I appreciate a-all of this.”

Nari smiles softly. “Of course, jagiya.” It’s a pet name, like ‘honey’, she’d finally learned. “If you need anything, just…kick this guy in the back of the head to get his attention or something,” she laughs, gesturing at Jamil.

“What did I ever do?” he protests, but also gives Liliana a grin over his shoulder to let her know it’s okay.

Nari leaves, and the only sounds in the room are faint music and effects from the video game. Liliana sips at her tea, the heat and honey soothing her sore throat. She gets through about half the mug before she gets too overwhelmingly tired to stay sitting up any longer.

Twisting around, she attempts to set the mug on the end table, catching Jamil’s attention who jumps up to help. Not only does he take the mug, but he also helps her with the pillows once he finds out her goal.

The video game sounds get even quieter as she curls up and closes her eyes, a tissue clutched in her hand.

[callmemana]

Whiskey Bottles & Wild Flowers: Meet Spencer ‘Spence’ Henderson

Spencer Gregory Henderson is the only surviving child and family member of Earl and Pamela Henderson. He was in college when this terrible accident happened, the Dean even let him take some time off to grieve and to get his affairs in order. Spence was never the same, the accident changed his in little ways. Daisy was a big help in getting him out of his depression.

Spencer couldn’t afford to continue going to school, but he stood by proudly and encouraged Daisy to continue her education when she offered to quit too. He would spend his days working at the Wolfe Ranch while Daisy went to school to become a Veterinarian. He was happy to get to see his girl everyday.

After he proposed, he spent more time on the ranch to save up for the wedding and honeymoon, which Daisy would always joke that ‘your cheating on me to be with cows? Just kidding, I would too.’ When the wedding day, everything was perfect. He loved everything that Daisy and himself picked out.

It wasn’t very long after they had been married that Daisy had become pregnant. As soon as the test was confirmed at the doctor’s office, they told the family and close family friends. When Leo came home, Spencer laughed at his reaction to being an Uncle.

He hadn’t really officially met Daisy’s brother but briefly at the wedding due to him needing to be back at Base soon afterwards, but from the stories with wife and in-laws told, he knew that Leo wasn’t always playing with a full deck of cards.

Spencer and Leo got along greatly, as did he with Rick too. The men stayed together, the genders finally being even when it came to dinner opinions and other super important things. Spence was very thankful for the help around the ranch, usually it’s everyone running around most days trying to get as much done before the sun went down.

Like everyone else, it surprised Spencer when the news came out. He hadn’t known Beau and Katherine long, but they seemed like good peoples. Always sending over ranch hands when the land had too much for only five people to do, and coming over with a casserole dishes filled with Katherine’s delicious cooking (it’s not as good as Ruth’s, but still fantastic).

A couple of months later, after all of the Ross and Rachel situation had faded, Daisy gave birth to their first born, Sawyer Wyatt Henderson. He looked just like his father, bringing tears to his eyes as he looked upon the small human.

Leo and Cricket and Rick and Duckie visited home to meet their first nephew. It was a couple of months afterwards when they could finally come home and it was a funny encounter when Daisy handed Cricket the baby it was a few minutes later that he started getting fussy and handed Sawyer back to Daisy.

Two years later, another Henderson was brought into the world, Harper Elizabeth Henderson. By the time she had been born, she had a few cousins from Leo and Cricket and Rick and Duckie. So, the visit didn’t happen until she was a year and a half because her cousins weren’t big enough to be without their moms just yet.

Another four years went by before kids number three and four, both two years apart too, were born. Sage Margaret and Ethan Chase Henderson. Life was busy on the Wolfe and Pruitt farms with the families and Rick now merged together.

Every holiday, even if their husbands can’t make it home, Duckie and Cricket bring their little hellions to the Pruitt’s ranch and all of the cousins raise hell for all of their parents. Most of the time the visit is filled with laughter, stories, ranch work, and booze.

Forever 🏷️ list: @bayisdying @mrsjaderogers @dragon-kazansky @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2 @lisedanie

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

˗ˏˋ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˎˊ˗

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — best friend!jack hughes x reader 𝐰𝐜 — 2.3k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — in order to avoid the annual interrogation into his love life, jack hughes enlists his longtime friend to be his totally platonic plus-one for the holidays.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — this is so cavity-inducing it makes me sick (affectionate) and why did i do the boys so dirty in this oml

“Why is Luke hitting on your girlfriend?”

Jack Hughes groans.

Not this shit again.

Was it really that strange for him to bring a friend home for the holidays?

A strictly platonic, no ulterior motives friend. A good friend, one who also saw him as nothing more than a friend.

He didn’t think so, but with how his family reacted, you would have thought he rode in on a unicycle dressed like a clown. All he did was invite a plus-one.

Sure, it was the first time since high school, but still. The sky didn’t turn purple, and Jack was pretty sure the planet would keep spinning. Not to mention, this is exactly what they wanted.

His family pestered him relentlessly about his love life—or, more accurately, a lack thereof—so he assumed they’d shift their interrogation to one or both of his brothers if he brought someone home, romantic or not. 

The whole point of a “holidate” (you) tagging along was to avoid questions, not elicit more. His plan was back-firing.

Epically.

Though less evident in your presence, not once had anyone asked him something unrelated to you.

His great-aunt wanted to know how he asked you to be his girlfriend, and Husband #4 wanted to know how he tricked you into going out with him in the first place.

(Jack was offended by this. He thinks himself to be quite a catch.)

His gaggle of younger cousins needed to know when the wedding was and if they’d get to be in it, a line of questioning that quickly evolved into an open audition for Flower Girls and Ring Bearers.

The older ones weren’t any better. Their onslaught was overtly critical and lacked the endearing innocence of its predecessor. One had a problem with the gift he picked out for you (it wasn’t “romantic enough,” as if a sixteen-year-old even knew what that meant), and another was disappointed he hadn’t taken advantage of the mistletoe above the garage door. A few swiftly agreed you were too good for him after Jack let slip you decorated his apartment because he was too busy—and aesthetically-challenged. 

His nana asked if he had "acquired a ring yet." When he told her he hadn’t, she offered one straight off her finger before he could explain why jewelry wasn’t necessary. She then launched into a spirited pitch for “finally getting some grandbabies.” 

Apparently, the rest of his family had a hefty bet going on who out of the three brothers would settle down first. Quinn, by default as the eldest, seemed like a sure thing for a few years, but seeing as his date for this year’s Christmas Eve dinner was a six-pack of Bud Light, it wasn’t challenging to put Jack, unwittingly, in the lead.

“For the millionth time, she is not my girlfriend,” Jack replies, not bothering to water down his irritation.

His older brother was annoying, so that did factor into his sour mood, but Jack was mainly frustrated with his younger brother for robbing him of his holidate and monopolizing her charm for his gain.

If Luke wanted someone to cart around the room, he should’ve brought one of his own instead of stealing his. You agreed to be Jack’s smoke and mirrors, not his little brother’s.

The thief has you roped into a conversation with a second cousin’s fiancé surrounding her impending nuptials. He knows this because the interaction began with her holding out her left hand so you could admire the massive rock weighing down her ring finger. You’re listening attentively as she goes on and on about the frivolous details. At one point, she pulls out her phone to show you something, and you visibly and genuinely gush, a hand over your heart.

Luke looks bored but satisfied with himself. 

Jack would be, too, if he had you as a human shield. Without a buffer, he was fair game.

Quinn smirks. “True, but you want her to be. Oh, that reminds me. If you are actually as platonic as you claim to be, you might want to remind Mom you need separate beds before she auctions off our guest room to the drunkest bidder. Unless, of course, curling up on Spider-Man sheets directly in front of a lifesize cardboard cutout of Crosby is some kind of freaky kink of yours.”

“Fuck off,” Jack hisses as he shoves his brother away from him.

“What? I don’t think it's that crazy to assume you’d get off on that, given how much of a die-hard you were growing up. You hero-worshiped the guy,” Quinn says between bouts of laughter. "I don't judge. Whatever foreplay you need, dude." 

“Do me a favor, would’ya?” Quinn nods, too tipsy to see he’s walking straight into a trap. “Go bother literally anyone else before I dunk your head in the eggnog.”

He does, head thrown back, cackling at his younger brother’s melodramatic threat. Jack doesn’t care if Quinn makes fun of him so long as he does it from six feet away. At least.

“Thank you, again, for doing this. I know my family is a lot—and don't really understand the concept of boundaries," Jack says in greeting when you manage to slip away from Luke and back to his side. 

Your expression lifts into a pretty smile.

“There’s no need to thank me, Jack. I’m enjoying myself. Everyone’s been so warm and welcoming.” 

“Really?”

“Really,” you affirm with a nod. “Your family has been on their best behavior.”

That’s because they want you to join us indefinitely, Jack muses.

However, now that he’s thinking about it, you becoming a more permanent fixture of Hughes holidays wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. It might devolve into that for you eventually, but Jack would never tire of having you as an anchor.

He was already planning on asking if you were interested in tagging along next year, but why put an expiration date on the invitation? It's not like he would have an actual date to bring. 

Before Jack can broach the subject, you’re pulled away by the herd of Flower Girl hopefuls. He expects you to look back with a pleading “Save me!” look in your eyes, but you don’t. You don’t even glance over your shoulder, already too engaged in whatever game of make-believe his cousins conjured up this time.

Jack's body warms as he stands in the corner of the living room. The happy kind of heat that spreads from your chest down to your toes and out to your fingertips. The kids are having a blast dancing between the couches and around the other guests, but you’re having just as much fun twirling them around. There’s so much giggling and smiling; it's infectious.

“Your girlfriend is a natural,” his dad says fondly as the children crowd you like their very own celebrity.

“Huh?” Jack murmurs, only half listening.

He’s too busy watching you hoist a giggling five-year-old into the infamous Dirty Dancing lift. Your arms are straight, glued to your ears. Jack smiles. He taught you that in his living room.

“Don’t let her be the one that gets away, okay?”

Jim wanders off to help his wife gather everyone for dinner, leaving Jack to chew on his dad’s request in solitude.

He winds himself so deeply into his head that he doesn’t notice you coming towards him until you’re face-to-face.

“Shall we?” you ask, eyes as bright as the tree behind you.

Jack nods, gulping down the strange feeling, and holds out his arm. He thinks he hears your breath catch as you thread your arm through to rest a hand in the crook of his elbow. 

You’re probably just surprised and maybe even a little confused. He’s never overtly chivalrous with anyone unless it's for a bit. Or in front of his mom. Neither of which is at play presently. You're alone in the hallway.

Jack just felt like being a gentleman. It's the least he could do after talking you into spending the holiday weekend with his nutty family and their big mouths. 

As Jack guides you through his childhood home, he does his best to ignore how much he likes the feeling of your shoulders brushing.

In the dining room, he pulls out a chair for you. While tucking you in, he catches his brothers mocking him in his peripheral vision.

Sensing his vexation, you snatch the bottle nearest you and fill a glass with wine. Wordlessly, you slide it into his palm. He takes half the heavy pour in one gulp and affectionately squeezes your shoulder. Immediately, Jack wishes he would’ve waited to do that until he could blame it on a buzz. It’s one simple touch, but that’s enough to make him feel like a complete weirdo.

He didn’t want you to misinterpret the gesture. Your friendship works so well because neither of you has tried to make it more. Maybe it was his anxiety talking, but Jack’s reasonably certain he’s wrecked everything.

The remainder of the wine goes quickly. 

“But I wanted to sit next to her!” Jack’s youngest cousin whines to his aunt from across the table.

“You’ve hogged her all night, honey. She’s Jack’s date; we should let him spend time with her. Maybe she’ll help you build your fort later if you behave during dinner.”

You nod and wink at the little girl. She, aglow with glee, claps her little hands together. Her mother quietly mouths her gratitude to you. 

“Who knew I was such a hot commodity?” you lean over and whisper to Jack.

It’s a lighthearted joke, but Jack feels a twinge of jealousy. He wasn’t a jealous person, especially with you. And, objectively, it was stupid to be upset over the demands of a child. 

The sole purpose of a “holidate” is to shift the attention away from him and, presumably, onto you. Jack hadn’t thought about how possessive the blatant division of your attention would make him feel.

Something shifted tonight; he wants to be selfish with you. 

As his mom pulls you into a conversation about your plans for New Year's Eve, Jack takes your hand in his. He waits for you to pull away. Instead, you squeeze his hand. Once, twice, then a final time. The fluttery nerves in his stomach dissipate.

Luke nudges Quinn, pointing his fork at your conjoined hands resting atop the table. They grin but say nothing.

Throughout the meal, his thumb absentmindedly rubs over yours. He hadn’t meant to, and when he realizes, Jack is hit with a sudden rush of clarity. 

He isn’t bothered that everyone assumes you’re together; he’s bothered that you aren’t.

The epiphany terrifies him.

The feeling of falling in love is very much like the feeling of a nightmare, like being sucked into an all-consuming black hole, entirely at its mercy and unable to save yourself.

He worries that once he starts falling, he might never stop. He’ll lose his bearings and his mind along with them. Jack couldn’t handle that kind of uncertainty. He couldn’t imagine forfeiting so much control over his own life.

Jack never wanted to fall in love, but he already had.

After dinner, Ellen sends the two of you to fetch more firewood from the shed. He can feel your unease as he trudges through the snow ahead of you.

It rose to the surface when he yanked his hand away before dessert and mounted steadily the quieter he became. You attempted to coax him into small talk with witty jokes and anecdotes from the time you spent separated tonight, but he couldn’t bring himself to participate much, if at all.

Eventually, you gave up and turned back to his mom for conversation. Jack didn’t blame you. He wasn’t the best company.

“Jack?” Your voice quivers.

It’s distant, literally and figuratively. He wonders when you stopped walking, but it doesn’t matter.

He halts his movements, but he’s too afraid to turn around. If he sees your eyes, he might say something he won’t be able to take back.

“Did I do something wrong? I feel like you’re mad at me. Or, at the very least, upset with me. Please, Jack, tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it.”

His heart sprinters at your sincerity. In an instant, Jack relinquishes his fears and strides across the yard to cup your face with his hands. Your cheeks are freezing, but so are his palms. There are tears in your eyes threatening to spill over and meet his touch. He’s so close he can smell your perfume, perforated by his shampoo that you borrowed this morning.

Strange look on his face, he whispers as though divulging his most intimate secret, “You’re my best friend.”

Because, in every way that matters, he is.

The dam breaks, then. Salty streams escape your eyes, slipping between your lower lashes to pool on his fingers. If it weren’t for the faint smile pulling on your lips, Jack would’ve thought you didn’t understand what he meant or that you didn't feel the same.

“I know,” you tell him softly. “You’re mine, too.”

Jack doesn’t even get to react before your lips catch his. He repays your courage so instantaneously and urgently that your mutual admission hasn’t fully sunk in when his tongue slips in to greet yours.

You fist his sweater as if he might pull away any second. Jack strokes his thumbs over your skin to assure you he won’t. Now—or ever.

This kiss—wonderful and everything—is the culmination of every smile shared in confidence, every terrible karaoke duet, countless movie marathons, and too many midnights to count. It feels so natural, so obvious. How he never once thought you’d arrive here is an enigma.

A chorus of whistles and applause erupts from the back porch.

Embarrassed, you attempt to separate from him, but Jack’s insistent lips persuade you to stay despite the growing audience. Now that he’s gotten a taste—of both your mouth and honest affection, Jack’s not budging for anything. 

When he was a kid, his mom told him that people only get a few “snow globe moments” in their lifetime. Perfect glimmers of happiness that you want to encase in a bubble and keep pristine forever. Jack never knew what she meant, not really.

Not until you kissed him. 

“Fucking finally!” Quinn shouts.

Behind your back, Jack flips him the bird.

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[perenlop]

1 for asha, valerie and marlow!!

01:  A memory from your character’s childhood

Asha: Trying to talk to her Aunt Quinn. They don't really understand why she's distant, but she's family and they live together, so she must be nice, right? Quinn indulges the kid and tries to hold a conversation, but it's clear she doesn't quite know how to talk to them, saying things that Asha doesn't really understand. Eventually, she just awkwardly pats her on the head and tells her to go play outside.

Valerie: Marlow taking her down to the beach so they could swim together. He'd find and hunt some fish for the two of them and like the two of them play on the currents. Notably, they weren't allowed to go far from the town, but she still remembers it fondly

Marlow: His parents promising him to take him down to the beach to see the Krabby blowing bubbles at sunset after they got home from their latest mission, and him wanting to join in with the krabby with his mom at least. By the time it was dusk, they still weren't home. Downcast, he ended up going to Aisling's home instead, where she and her siblings tried to recreate the experience for him by blowing soap bubbles with his real bubbles

[sweetteainthesummerx]

⋆·˚ ༘ * oh, my, my, my ⋆·˚ ༘ *

nhl masterlist !

pairings: quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader, jack hughes x platonic best friend!reader, quinn x artist!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, fluff

summary: you and quinn throughout the years, and how you fall in love <3

song: mary's song (oh my my my) by taylor swift

word count: 4.4 k

notes: I love lake quinn sm :)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

our daddies used to joke about the two of us, growing up and falling in love, our mamas smiled, and rolled their eyes

"oh, she's so tiny!" ellen cooes, cradling the little bundle of pink, "and she has your eyes, birdie."

your mother smiles at the nickname her college friend had given her freshman year, when a bird had pooped on her head during a girl's night out.

it stuck (literally), and almost 10 years later, as her best friend holds her babygirl, she's reminded of everything they'd been through together.

"congrats, man. the first girl in the family!" jim slaps your dad on the shoulder, the two men smiling at their wives.

"oh, she's just precious." you yawn, and all of the adults are reduced to an awwing mess.

quinn toddles over, chubby toddler legs still unsure. he lands on his butt half a foot away from ellen, who lifts him up with the hand that wasn't holding you.

"look, quinny."

quinn reaches out a finger towards you, and jim is about to chide him when your tiny little fist locks around it. his wide eyes widen even more. you gurgle happily at him, and for the first time in a while, he goes completely still, enraptured by the baby in front of him.

"oh." your father whispers.

"well, that's your son-in-law now," jim laughs.

"hey, don't count out jack! they're closer in age, after all."

your mom rolls her eyes, as ellen snorts, "let's not pre-write our kid's futures before they're five, please."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

i was seven and you were nine, i looked at you like the stars that shine

"y'know, birdie," ellen starts, "the boys might be right."

"no, they cannot eat four pb and j's and then go to the carnival-"

"no, not the little ones!", ellen laughs, "our husbands. they might be right."

"oh, that? the whole son-in-law thing?" your mom grins, as she watches luke chase after you with a worm.

the two women are silent and thoughtful as you - screaming at the top of your lungs - duck behind quinn, who sternly tells off his little brother. your sticky hands lace with his, naturally, albeit a bit awkward the way only kids can be.

you absolutely adore quinn. he's your protector, the one you turn to more often than not. jack is your best friend, and you remind her of that often. luke is your baby brother, the one you coddle and fuss over.

and the boys adore you just as much; jack plays pirates with you all day, Luke follows you like a puppy, and quinn...

he's staked a claim on you that makes your mom laugh, but worry a little when your older and you inevitably find someone who isn't him.

it never occurred to her that he might be the one.

"oh my god." your mom says as your dad walks in with jim.

"ha! see? I know I put money on my son for good reason." jim says gleefully, and quickly pipes down at ellen's dirty look.

"jack is also your son, man." your dad shakes his head.

"seriously? you guys made bets on the future love lives of your prepubescent kids?"

"birdie, it's just a joke!"

he eats his words as quinn leads you through the door. you're in tears, a nasty scrape on your knee. he's got your hand cradled in his.

ellen and your mom fawn over it, how brave you were, but all you could remember is how quinn held your hand the whole time.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back when our world was one block wide, i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried

when you're ten, you almost have your first kiss.

you're going through a phase, really, when all you would wear were your overall jean shorts, a big t-shirt and your red converses. you have little pen drawings all over your shoes and shorts.

now, when you look at the photos from back then, you cringe a little at how lanky and young you look.

you're with the boys at one of the neighbouring lake houses, a couple of other girls and a few guys too.

everyone there lived on the same block, so it was odd that you hadn't all hung out together before.

quinn can tell you're uncomfortable around the other guys, who are loud and frankly very obnoxious. even his 12-year-old self can tell.

he tells you that you can all leave and go get ice cream near the boardwalk, but you refuse. you're 10 already, you can handle a few new strangers.

somehow, spin the bottle is brought up and you find yourself sitting cross-legged as one of the older girls - who's kind and much more grown than you - tellsdyou how to spin the bottle.

your hands shake and the backs of your knees are slick with sweat, but you spin anyways. you want to seem cool and older too.

you watch the root beer bottled patter as it turns, the ting, ting sound dissonant with your thumping heart.

it lands on quinn.

your quinn who knows all of the words to the spider man movies, who gives the last popsicle to you and lets you tuck your feet under his thighs when you get cold.

this is a disaster, you think, because you don't know how to kiss! are you supposed to use your tongue? you almost gag at the thought.

quinn can see your very apparent panic, and the only thing on his mind was to make it of away.

he wants to hold your hand, but when you turned nine you had decided that boys had cooties, so you refused to touch him or his brothers.

"...we don't have to," he offers, scratching his neck. one of the boys boo, and you flush.

you shook your head, "i want to."

he smiles, shy and boyish and your heart goes into overdrive.

his face matches yours in colour as he scoots forward awkwardly, cupping your face the way he'd seen his dad do to his mom.

as he leans forward, you burst into tears. if you kiss him, and he's disgusted by your kissing skills - or lack thereof - he wouldn't be your quinn anymore.

you run out embarrassed, leaving quinn's hand outstretched and the older girl from earlier confused and worried.

you think that you had ruined it all, but later that night when quinn offers to take you to get ice cream and lets you get two scoops, you know nothing can tear the two of you apart.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the creek beds we turned up, two A.M. riding in your truck and all I need is you next to me

the year quinn turned 16, he gets his boating and drivers license.

when the first real day of summer - he doesn't count the days until he sees you and the lake house again - starts and he finds you making eggs and bacon in the kitchen, he gives you an offer.

"hey, chickie." he tugs playfully at the string of your apron. jim had given you that nickname because of your mom's. chickie, like a baby bird. jack liked to call you chicklet, and Luke followed suit.

the adults think you've outgrown that name, and only call you chickie sporadically.

it's become special for you and quinn, sacred even,

"hi, quinny." you answer in the same tone, swatting him with the spatula in your hand.

"give me a piece of bacon and i'll take you out onto the water. i'll even let you drive a bit when we're far out." he murmurs as you turn the stove off.

"really?" you squeal, and he winces jokingly.

"yes, yes! finally!" you throw yourself at him, letting the older boy catch you around the waist. he grins into your hair, his cheek muscles unused by the seasons without you.

"okay, kid. pipe down. where's my bacon?" he grumbles, but he smiles when you turn around to fix him a whole plate.

you forget in all of your excitement that he doesn't even like bacon.

it's pathetic, really, but he missed you. he still does even though you're less than a foot away from him, salting your scrambled eggs.

he finishes his food faster than you do, and leaves to set up the boat with your promises that you would hurry.

he's excited; he hasn't seen you since christmas, and then, he had to share you with jack and luke and his parents too.

that year, you and jack had become decidedly closer, and quinn knows he has to establish that boat time was for you and him only.

so when jack and luke both follow you onto the boat, whooping and screaming, he's pissed.

and on top of that, he has to drive the boat while you and jack banter and threaten to shove each other off of the moving vessel.

it wasn't fair: you're his person. you guys did gas station runs together, you always looked at him with sad puppy eyes when you were cold.

he'd always grumbled and give you his sweatshirt when you refused to bring a jacket and ended up shivering. you always begged to braid his hair when the sun was at it's highest and there was nothing to do.

so yeah, excuse him if he was mad that your time together was interrupted by jack and luke of all people.

so when you walk up to him, hair messy and wearing nothing but your bathing suit and one of his old hockey jerseys, he tries his best to ignore you.

"quinny!" you exclaim, nudging his shoulder, and once more when he doesn't answer.

he glances quickly at you, but one look is enough to make his chest squeeze in that way that it started to do since last summer.

you had always been beautiful, but you were starting to be seriously gorgeous.

your hair is windblown, skin tanned and freckled with eyes bright from the sheer novelty of it being summer again.

you'd started to fill out more; the tiny bikinis you - and he - loved made something hot tug in his lower stomach.

tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow in the way that always makes him soften like butter, "I thought you were gonna let me drive!"

"ask jack to teach you," he snarks, and regrets it immediately at the hurt on your face.

his chest tightens, like someone has taken the hurt on your features and shoved it between his rib cage so he couldn't breathe.

the two of you don't talk for the rest of the day.

quinn feels like an asshole, and he really doesn't like how you refuse to sit in your normal spot next to him during movie night, instead opting to tuck yourself between the edge of the couch and luke.

and the salt on the wound was when you don't laugh at the stupid jokes he makes for you, especially.

his mom asks him what he had done when he goes to get more popcorn in the kitchen.

"what? why did you automatically assume I didn't something?" he asked, offended.

"because, that girl sticks to you like a magnet," ellen smooths his temple, "and because no one makes you smile and talk like she does. you've been silent all day."

the next night, he shows up at the door of your room in the lake house your two families shared.

he knocks, and pokes his head in, "chickie?

you're at your table, drawing again like you always were.

he keeps the little sketch of him you made last summer in his wallet, tucked under the picture of all of the hughes boys and you.

you ignore him, and he flops on your bed. the floral sheets your mom bought when you were 11 smells like you. he tries not to be creepy and inhale - at least too noticeably.

"gas station run?" he asks.

you finally spare him a glance, "quinny, it's past one o'clock, and it'll take at least 20 minuted to get there."

"please? I really want chips."

you sigh, ever the martyr, and agree. neither of you mention how the hughes stock up enough snacks to last at least 2 months the beginning of every summer.

the battle of who cracks first kept on, until finally, on the way back from the gas station, quinn sighs, "I'm sorry.

you frown, clearly not impressed, "I don't even know why you're sorry."

"god, this is embarrassing-"

"quintin, i swear-"

"i wanted the boat ride to be just us two!" he exclaims loudly.

there was a beat of silence, only the chirp of crickets that crept in the tall grass you could hear through the open windows of jim's truck.

the light on the radio shined, 1:59 AM.

"what?" you ask, a little confused and very much flustered.

"i missed you, chickie, and jack is always monopolizing your time! you're my person and-"

"are you jealous?"

"what?"

"oh my god, you are! you're jealous!"

"no!" he splutters, grateful that it's pitch black outside, because he can feel his ears heating up.

you laugh, tugging at one of his curls, as he grumbles something about not letting you eat any of his salt and vinegar chips.

"quinny?" you ask a little while later, when he's pulling back into the drive way, "y'know that you're my person too, right?"

you look soft and sleepy, under the light of the car, in one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.

he swears he turns into liquid in the drivers seat.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

well, i was sixteen when suddenly, i wasn't that little girl you used to see

"I wouldn't worry about that, chicklet." jack throws his arm around you, and you roll your eyes at the many girls starting to glare at you.

"I don't know what you're talking about." except you do.

there's a girl flirting with quinn, and she's pretty. she's got tattoos on her arms, and she's tall, almost tall at him.

you take a break from the self-deprecating comparison between yourself and her to admire quinn for one second.

he's gotten so tall and broad, all the signs of boyhood gone, except when he smiles that special smile for you. the one when his eyes get all squinty and he bares all of his pretty teeth.

your heart twists, because he hasn't smiled at you like that all summer.

you don't know what you did wrong. maybe he's outgrowing you. he'll be a college man next fall, and you're still in high school.

he's got the whole world in front of him, and well, you couldn't blame him if he didn't want to settle for you.

you realize your feelings for him the beginning of the summer.

or you uncover them, because if you're honest, they've always been there.

and right now, you're wearing your heart on your sleeve, because he looks so handsome in a tight black t-shirt and shorts, a backwards cap on his curls.

his biceps look huge, and between the teenage hormones and the two shots in your system, you want to climb him like a tree.

the more romantic side of you wished you had your charcoal and parchment, so you can copy down his likeness for when your old and greying and you can't remember how he looks illuminated by the moon and bonfire.

"yeah, sure. you're clueless." jack snorts, and he makes his way to the drink table at the party you're at.

you pass by Luke, who's preoccupied by a girl way too old for him, and go sit closer to the fire.

you're mad.

you're mad because you've dressed up real cute, in a tiny black tube top and denim shorts.

you're mad because your hair is curled the way quinn likes it.

you know that for a fact because every time it looks like that, he comes up behind you to wind his fingers through a strand. it was a hassle, and he won't even look at you.

"what's a pretty girl like you doing alone?"

it's a boy with mussed, brown hair and a nice smile.

he's cute. peter, or pierre, he introduces himself. he reminds you a bit of the boyfriend you had first semester of sophomore year.

you've had boyfriends, and quinn has had his relationships, but summer was sacred.

that's why you felt ill when you flirted with him, not because quinn was a mere 20 feet away, starting to glance over and frown.

quinn has always been a jealous motherfucker; you'd give it 5 minutes before he comes over.

you try not to gloat when he comes over in 2.

"hey, chickie. time to go." he tells you, taking you cup and winding an arm around your waist.

you roll your eyes, pushing him off, "no, I'm good here,"

quinn crosses his arms and puffs out his chest, biceps flexing in front of you.

the boy smiles - you've already forgotten his name, something p - and shrugs at quinn.

he's mad now, you can tell, but you wrap you're fingers around the other boy's elbow to egg him on.

"oh, for- that's it. c'mon."

suddenly, your feet are swept out from under you, and you're thrown over his shoulder.

you frown, realizing that you're in the air.

"hey!" you protest weakly as people turn to look at you. quinn continues his trudge all the way to where he's parked his dad's truck and dumps you on the hood like you weigh nothing.

"what are you doing?" he asks, eyes dark, "that guy is no good-"

"no! what are you doing?" all of your frustration pools in your throat, and embarrassing tears are starting to prick at your eyes.

"you won't even look at me all summer, you're flirting with some girl and you get mad at me? you're being such-"

he shakes his head, looking as exasperated as you feel.

"do you know how hard it is-" he breathes out shakily, "how difficult it is to control myself around you?"

"what?" you ask, heart beating in your ears, "what?"

"i have been in love with you since i was 12, chickie." his tone is begging, and so are his eyes.

he looks pained, and you want to relieve it so, so badly. but he still won't touch you. he's hovering away from you, like he has for the past month.

"i love you, and you see me nothing more than a brother, like how you see jack. and it hurts, here," he rubs the heel of his palm between his ribs, "to know that you'll never want me the same way."

"quinn-"

"no, let me talk. I've spent the past 6 years pining after you. I've tried to move on, but all...nothing compares to you. I want you so bad, chickie, but..." he turns from you, head in his hands.

now, if you weren't like 3 beers and 2 shots deep, you would realize that he can't really go anywhere because you're quite literally on the top of his car.

but drunk you is clearly a dumbass, because you think he's trying to leave. so you tell him what's actually on your mind.

"i love you!" you blurt out.

he turns slowly, "what?"

"i love you too. i thought you didn't want me because you're leaving for college, but i want you so bad, please-"

the next thing you know, he's between your legs, so warm and solid, pulling you in by your cheek like during that spin the bottle game 6 years ago.

you let him kiss you for real this time, you let him push up your shorts to feel more of your skin, you let him lick into your mouth.

he pulls away, and you whine, tugging him in again.

he laughs, which makes you laugh in turn, and you slide down the hood as you giggle. he catches you, because he always does.

"i love you." you tell him, and he flushes, nuzzling into your neck.

"say it again," he demands, just because he can.

"i love you, my quinny." you coo, and he wants to crawl into your skin and settle there forever.

"i love you too, chickie."

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

oh, my, my, my

"told you so." Jim tells the rest of the parents.

the four of them - the weirdos - are on the second floor, leaning on the bannister as you make breakfast with quinn.

well, you make breakfast and he's distracting you.

he's got his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the back, and the two of you waddle like a pair of penguins around the kitchen gathering ingredients for pancakes.

you're giggling, and he's got a half-smile on his face.

you look so happy together than ellen and your mom are ignoring jim's gloating.

they are even kind enough to ignore the exchange of money between the two men, after all, your dad had bet on jack and lost.

"i can't wait for their wedding."

"hold on, now!"

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

a few years had gone and come around, we were sitting at our favorite spot in town and you looked at me, got down on one knee

you're on Quinn's lap, content and warm. the two of you had gotten up to watch the sunrise, first day of the summer at the lake house.

it's nice to have everyone in one place again, the two of you coming from vancouver, the boys from new jersey.

the past couple of years had been hard; a year or two long distance, until you went to study architecture at UBC after quinn had been drafted.

this year, 24 and 22, you finally get some rest and the promise of settling down more.

quinn's captain, and you have a good job that lets you work remote and do what you love.

and more importantly, the two of you are always together.

"babe?" quinn asks, running a hand down your arms, "c'mon, let's go to the dock?"

you don't protest, just happy to be at your childhood lake house.

he leads you there, like he always does.

"pretty." you stare out at the water, orange and pink sky meeting in the still horizon.

"yeah." quinn gives you a smile, rare for anyone else.

but he has always smiled for you, and you greedily hoard them in your memories.

"got something to show you," he pulls his wallet out, the two pictures in the clear flaps catch your eye.

one is a polaroid of you and your boys. quinn is 15, jack is 14, you're 13 and luke is 11. all of you are lanky and awkward, wrapped around each other and grinning ear to ear.

the other is also a polaroid, taken by ellen a year or two ago, when all of your parents came to visit your Vancouver apartment.

quinn's arm is around your shoulders and you're clinging to his side, one hand curled around his waist and the other on his chest. you're smiling at the camera, and quinn is smiling at you.

"cute," you tell him, but he digs a finger into the little pocket.

"fuck," he swears when whatever he's looking for doesn't come out.

"here, let me," you offer. you retrieve a piece of thick parchment with your smaller hands.

it's a sketch of quinn you did when you were in your early teens.

it's not great, you have to admit. the lines aren't smooth like how you sketch now, but the ink and paper is in pristine condition.

"quinn...you kept this?" you ask softly, oddly emotional.

when you look at him, he has a weird look on his face. he scratches his neck.

you stare at each other for a moment, the familiarity of your love almost stifling in the cool morning air.

and then he drops down on one knee.

you start crying, immediately.

that sets him off, and the two of you are blubbering as he tries to get through the speech he wrote in his notes 7 months ago after he got the ring and you were in the shower.

he tells you he loves you, how he's never going to leave you, that you're going to build a life together, just like how you've done everything together since you were kids.

you believe him, because your quinn is nothing if not earnest and steady.

you let him slip the simple ring onto your finger, and he lifts you up into strong arms to kiss you.

you're so deliriously happy that your teeth clash with his in a smiling kiss.

your families cheers from the porch, and you laugh, watery and heart full.

jack runs up first, swinging you around and clapping his hand down on quinn's shoulder.

Luke kisses your cheek and hugs his older brother, as ellen and your mom hug you together.

jim wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead, "thanks for helping me win the bet, chickie." you chuckle, reaching for your dad next.

..••°°°°••....••°°°°••..

take me back to the time when we walked down the aisle, our whole town came and our mamas cried, you said I do and I did too

the wedding takes place a year later, in a small winery near the house, because ellen and your mom refused to let you have the wedding on the dock.

this was your compromise, because it's a small affair.

your dad walks you down the aisle to quinn. you're smiling, like there's a hanger in your mouth because you're just so happy.

he cries when he sees you, and so do the other hughes boys.

you hear your mom and ellen, tears meeting shaky smiles on their faces.

your own college friend, your birdie, fixes your veil and holds your bouquet.

sweet promises are exchanged in your vows, and when you have your first kiss as mr. and mrs. hughes, all of your loved ones cheer.

quinn sweeps you off your feet and bridal carries you to a change room so you can switch into your reception dress.

he sees you later as jack, who volunteered to be the mc, announces you guys as mr. and mrs. hughes.

quinn's eyes are hot and dark as he sees your smooth skin under white lace, and whispers something into the shell of your ear that makes you pink.

you dance together, with his brothers and his dad, with your own too.

but the last dance is saved for the two of you.

"i can't wait to grow old with you, chickie." he whispers romantically.

"you'd make such a cute old man," you tell him, and he rolls his eyes.

you laugh, and so does he.

forever sounds real good to you.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[pucked-bunnie]

family skate ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x reader genre: fluff ⎜romance ⎜ warnings: none! this is just cute and wholesome. synopsis: you haven't been on many dates in your life time - but you definetly haven't been on one quite like this one. word count: 4.5k authors note:  this is a much anticipated and requests part 2 of book club. I hope you all enjoy!! I doubt this will top book club but it's worth a shot

(unedited)

+

+

“Is this date acceptable?” You ask, twirling a little in front of the mirror - trying to get your outfit from every angle. You huff, pushing your hair away from your face as you turn to face your cat currently perched on the edge of your bed. “You are no help.” You pout at him, the cat tilting his head in confusion before jumping off the bed. 

Quinn was going to be at your apartment in less then fifteen minutes and you were still second guessing your outfit. 

The mirror offers no new insights, no reassurance, just the same reflection you’ve been scrutinising for the last twenty minutes. You tug at the hem of your top, debating whether it looks too casual. Then you turn your attention to the necklace—is it too much? Not enough?

“You could at least pretend to care,” you mutter, glancing over at your cat, who’s lounging on the floor besides your bed, casually licking a paw. He pauses to give you an unimpressed look before resuming his grooming routine, as if to say, this is your mess to figure out, not mine.

You sigh dramatically, flopping onto the floor beside him. “You have no idea how hard this is,” you grumble, scratching behind his ears. He leans into your touch for all of three seconds before deciding he’s had enough and saunters off toward the windowsill.

“Traitor,” you call after him, sitting up again. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, and your stomach tightens. A quick glance at the screen tells you Quinn is on his way and will be there in less than ten minutes.

Panic sets in. You shoot to your feet, suddenly hyperaware of every little thing about your outfit that might be wrong. 

The shoes—do they match? 

The colour of your pants—too bright? Not bright enough?

You shake your head, trying to push the doubts away. This is supposed to be fun. It’s just a casual date, not a job interview, you remind yourself. But the butterflies in your stomach refuse to listen.

Your cat lets out a soft meow from his perch, and you look over to find him watching you with a curious tilt of his head. It’s almost as if he’s saying, relax, you’re overthinking this.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, smoothing a hand over your hair. “You don’t have to worry about impressing anyone. You just show up, purr, and everyone loves you.”

The doorbell rings, and your heart leaps into your throat. Okay, showtime. You grab your bag, stealing one last look in the mirror. “Here goes nothing,” you whisper, before heading to the door.

When you open it, there he is—Quinn, with that easy, lopsided smile that makes your heart do somersaults. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers, looking just as nervous as you feel, and somehow that makes it all a little better.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes lighting up as he looks at you. “You look... wow.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you can’t help but smile. “Thanks. I, uh... wasn’t sure about the outfit.”

“Well, I’m sure,” he replies, holding the flowers out to you. “You look incredible.” You step aside to let him in, the tension in your shoulders melting away. 

“The flowers are stunning.” You say as you round the kitchen counter, quickly reaching for the vase underneath the sink - filling it with fresh water and placing the flowers inside.  

“I remember you mentioning you have a cat and probably spent about two hours checking what was toxic to them.” Quinn says with a nervous laugh, his hand raising to rub the back of his neck. 

“So is this ice skating appropriate?” You question gesturing down to your outfit, the simple flared jeans and Canucks blue knitted sweater seeming overly casual the more you look down at it. “Maybe I should change?” You say quickly, Quinns head shaking vigorously as he reaches forwards to grab hold of your hand. 

“As long as you’re warm that’s all that matters.” He says lifting your hand to place a soft kiss against your knuckles before glancing down at his watch. “Besides we have no time.” He almost drags you out of your apartment only pausing to let you lock your front door, before pulling you out to his car - opening the door for you to slide in. 

You settle into the passenger seat, the warmth of Quinn’s earlier gesture still lingering on your skin. The soft scent of his cologne fills the car, and you find yourself relaxing just a little. The tension in your shoulders eases as he jogs around to the driver’s side, sliding in and starting the engine.

“You really didn’t have to rush,” you say with a small laugh, buckling your seatbelt. “We could’ve been a few minutes late.” He grins as he pulls out onto the street. “Not on my watch. First impressions matter. I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t stick to a plan.”

“First impressions?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “I think we’re a little past that.”

“First official date impressions,” he counters smoothly, shooting you a quick glance before focusing back on the road. “Totally different thing. Higher stakes.”

You smile, his playful energy easing the last of your nerves. The city lights blur past as the car glides down the road, and you steal a glance at him—his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel, the corners of his mouth quirked up in a way that feels impossibly genuine.

The car hums softly as Quinn pulls into the lot underneath the Rogers Arena when the thought hits you this wasn’t just a casual skate. It was the family skate, surrounded by Quinn’s teammates, their families, and probably more cameras than you cared to think about. Quinn parks and turns to you, his signature lopsided smile breaking through any lingering nerves. 

“Ready?” he asks, though his voice carries a hint of uncertainty.

You let out a soft breath, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Are you ready? Don’t think I’m going easy on you just because this is your turf.”

His laugh is soft, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d be offended if you did.”

He hops out of the car, grabbing the a bag from the trunk as you step out into the cool air outside the car. The sound of blaring music muffled by the stone walls of the building making you buzz with excitement. Quinn holds his hand out towards you, waiting patiently as you look down at it and then back up at him. He nods towards it once, a smiling breaking out on his face as you slide your hand into his. 

You’d held hands with Quinn before, most times without even thinking about it, but this time for some reason felt different. Quinns hand was warm against yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pulls you closer to his side, nodding a quick hello to the security guard at the entrance. 

“Quinn do people know about me?” You ask softly, as the thought hits you. “I kind of feel like I’m intruding.” You whisper as you follow him down the hallways, the music getting louder the close you get to the ice. 

Quinn slows his steps, turning to face you with a reassuring smile. “They know about you,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Not everything—but enough to know you’re important to me.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, but you still hesitate, glancing down the hallway toward the growing buzz of voices and music. “Important enough to bring me to this?”

He grins, leaning closer so only you can hear. “Important enough that I want you to see this part of my world. And… well, if I’m being honest, I think they’ll love you.” You balk at his words, a little Quinn quickly adding, “But watch out for Elias, he’s way too excited to meet you.” You nod your head. 

Quinn had talked about Elias Pettersson - his best friend - several times when you have spent time together in the store. Explained how despite Elias always wanting the best for him, the swede couldn’t help but mess with his captain whenever present with an opportunity. 

You raise a skeptical eyebrow. “Even if I wipe out on the ice in front of all of them?” You say, suddenly second guessing all of your athletic abilities. 

Quinn chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. “Especially then. They’ll think you’re just like me.”

That earns a laugh from you, easing some of the tension in your chest. “You’re really not worried about that?”

“Not even a little,” he says confidently, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Besides, I’ll be right there to catch you. The thought of falling doesn’t seem so bad when he says it like that. Taking a deep breath, you nod, letting his calm confidence steady you. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

With your hand still in his, he leads you into the rink. The air is colder, sharper, and the arena is alive with activity—kids darting across the ice, laughter echoing off the walls, and players chatting with their families near the benches.

As you step closer to the boards, you notice a few of the players turning to look your way. Some of the guys offer warm smiles, a few nodding in greeting, most looking between you and their captain in astonishment. 

“A lot of them thought I was bluffing.” He whispers to you as he reaches to grab a pair of skates from the bag he’s carrying and hands them to you. “Think you can handle these?” He questions, showing you the tan coloured Bauer hockey skates - the fleece lining already calling your name. 

“Quinn these are like three hundred dollars.” You hiss under your breath, leaning forwards to make sure no one else can hear you. Quinn shrugs, leading you over to the bench motioning for you to sit down. 

“Consider it payment for being willing to go on a date with me.” He says softly, dropping one skate on the bench besides you before fiddling with the one still in his hands. Quinn loosens the laces on the skate, adjusting it until it’s ready to slip on your foot. “Shoes off.” He says quickly, leaving no time for you to argue, as you toe your sneakers off and slip them under the bench. 

Quinn bends a little, helping you slip your foot into the skate before lifting your leg till your foot sits comfortably between his two thighs, his hands making quick work of fitting the skate to your foot. “Let me know if it’s too tight.” He says softly, his brows furrowed in concentration as he pulls each lace tight, one by one. He asks you to wiggle your toes, making sure the fit is comfortable before gently dropping your foot to the ground and repeating the process with your other skate. 

You watch Quinn as he works, his movements careful and deliberate, his hands steady as they tug at the laces. His focus is so intense that you almost forget where you are, the buzz of the rink fading into the background for a moment.

"You're really good at this," you say, breaking the silence.

He glances up, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Well, I've had some practice."

"Yeah, but still," you tease. "This is next-level service. I feel spoiled."

He chuckles, finishing the second skate and giving your knee a playful pat. "You're supposed to feel spoiled. That's the point."

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you’re grateful for the excuse to look away as you flex your feet in the skates, testing the fit. "These feel amazing," you admit.

"Good," he says, standing up and offering you his hand. "Now let's see if you can stay on your feet."

You laugh but take his hand, letting him help you up. The skates feel sturdy, even though it takes a moment to adjust to the feeling on walking on the blades, Quinn keeping his hands ready as he follows behind you. 

“Your lack of trust in my ability is astounding.” You call, as you step up to the open door on the bench, bracing both hands on the sides as you finally step onto the ice. The chill hits you immediately, sharper and more invigorating than you remember, the surface is smooth and gleaming, and your skates slide easily, almost too easily as your body gets back into the routine of skating. 

"Okay, this is a little harder than I remember," you admit as you wobble slightly. Quinn grins, skating backward in front of you, his hands reaching out to grab hold of yours. 

"You're doing fine. Just trust your feet." He says, thankful for his assistance as you remind yourself to keep your knees bent. 

You glance down at the ice, then back up at him. "Easy for you to say, Mr. NHL Star." You laugh, panicking as he moves to pull his hands from yours. “Don’t you dare.” You hiss, Quinn let out a bark of laughter as he pulls you closer to the centre of the rink. 

With his steady guidance, you feel your confidence grow, giving him a quick nod as he slowly releases your hands you body finally remembering how to skate confidently as Quinn sidles up besides you, his smile infectious as you make your way around the rink comfortably. 

"You’re a natural," Quinn says after a while, his voice warm with encouragement.

“I told you I knew how to skate,” you reply, but you can’t help smiling, “with maybe a bit of a rocky start.” 

"Maybe a little," he admits with a wink. "But you’re doing great."

As you glide along the boards, a few of Quinn’s teammates skate by, some offering waves or teasing remarks. One of them—a tall guy with a mischievous grin—calls out, "Quinn’s got his hands full tonight!"

"Jealous, Petey?" Quinn shoots back, his tone lighthearted.

The guy—Petey—grins. "Always, Hughesy. Always." Quinn’s teammate circles around once before making his way back to you and Quinn, slipping himself between you and your date with a cheeky smile, shooting his captain a wink before linking his arm with yours. “I need to borrow her for a minute.” He says, Quinn opening his mouth to complain but you’re already being dragged away from him. 

You’re whisked away before you can even process what’s happening, your skates gliding awkwardly as Petey pulls you along. You glance over your shoulder at Quinn, who shakes his head with an amused smile, clearly letting Petey have his moment.

“Sorry about Hughesy,” Petey says, steering you toward a quieter corner of the rink where a few other players are gathered. “He’s not usually this good at showing off.”

“Showing off?” you ask, your voice tinged with playful skepticism.

Petey smirks. “Oh, yeah. Trust me, this is peak ‘look at me, I have a girlfriend’ energy.”

You laugh despite yourself, feeling a little of the lingering tension ease. “I wouldn’t say he’s showing off. He’s just…” You hesitate, searching for the right word.

“Obsessed?” Petey supplies, his grin widening. “It’s cute, don’t worry. We’re all rooting for him.” Before you can respond, another player skates over, clapping Petey on the shoulder. “Stop scaring her, man. She just got here.”

“Am I scaring you?” Petey asks dramatically, placing a hand over his heart like he’s offended.

“Not at all,” you reply, unable to suppress a grin. “You’re more… enthusiastic.”

The second guy laughs. “Come on, man, let her get back to Quinn before he skates over here and kicks you in the ankles.”

Petey sighs theatrically, releasing your arm. “Fine. But only because I’m nice.” He pauses, looking you over with an approving nod. “You’re good for him. Don’t let him mess this up.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promise, chuckling as Petey skates off with his friend.

When you return to Quinn, he’s standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “I can’t leave you alone for five seconds, can I?”

You shrug, your grin wide. “Your teammates are… lively.”

“Yeah, they’re something,” he says, rolling his eyes fondly. “What did Petey say?”

“Nothing you need to know.”

“Great you’ve already got secrets with my friends.” Quinn groans, “It wasn’t anything bad was it?” 

“I’m just glad you think I’m worth showing off for.” You tease, watching as Quinn spin shooting a glare at his friend who is already laughing as he skates to the bench. You laugh with Petey, slipping your arm through Quinn’s. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute.” You say, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

His cheeks flush slightly. “Glad to hear it. Now, ready to show these guys you can out-skate them?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, feigning confidence. Quinn grins, pulling you back toward the centre of the ice. “That’s the spirit.”

As the evening goes on, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The gentle guidance of Quinn’s hand, the light teasing from his teammates, and the vibrant energy of the rink all blend together into something that feels magical.

When you finally step off the ice, your cheeks are pink from the cold and laughter, your legs pleasantly tired. Quinn helps you sit back on the bench and starts unlacing your skates with the same careful attention he’d shown earlier.

“Thank you,” you say softly, watching him work.

He looks up, his expression warm. “For what?”

“For bringing me here. For letting me be a part of this.”

Quinn’s smile deepens, and he reaches up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone else.” Your heart swells at his words, and as he finishes with your skates and helps you into your shoes, he makes quick work of pulling off his own skates, slipping on his sneakers as he pulls you up from the bench with him. 

As you rise, Quinn keeps your hand firmly in his, leading you out of the rink. The arena is quieter now, the echoes of laughter and skates on ice fading as families and players begin to trickle out. The cold air nips at your face as you step into the hallway, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth still lingering from Quinn’s words.

“So,” he says as you walk side by side, his voice soft, “what’s the verdict? Best date ever, or are you just being polite?”

You chuckle, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “It’s definitely up there. Though, I feel like there’s some bias—being surrounded by professional skaters might give the date an unfair edge.”

Quinn grins, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “I’ll take that as a win.”

As you approach the exit, a few of his teammates call out their goodbyes, and you wave shyly, still getting used to the attention. One of them jokes, “Don’t let him scare you off, okay?”

Quinn groans, shaking his head. “I’m never bringing you around these guys again.”

You laugh, squeezing his hand. “Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like seeing you in your element.”

“Yeah?” he asks, glancing over at you, his expression softening.

“Yeah,” you reply, your smile matching his. “You seem… happy. Comfortable.”

“I am,” he says, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that makes your stomach flutter. “More than I have been in a while.” As you reach his car, he opens the passenger door for you, and you slide in, the warmth of the vehicle a welcome contrast to the crisp night air. Quinn joins you a moment later, turning on the heat before glancing over at you.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Starving,” you admit.

“Good,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot. “Because I know a place.”

The drive is quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that feels natural rather than forced. The city lights blur past the window, and you find yourself stealing glances at Quinn, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard.

When he pulls up to a small, cozy diner, you smile. “This is the place?”

He nods. “Best milkshakes in the city. Trust me.” You follow him inside, the warmth and smell of comfort food wrapping around you like a hug. As you slide into the booth across from him, you can’t help but think that this night, with its mix of nerves, laughter, and quiet moments, has been just about perfect. 

Quinn leans back against the booth, his eyes scanning the menu even though it seems like he already knows what he wants. He glances up at you with a smirk, catching you mid-gaze as you try to take in every little detail of him—how the corners of his mouth curl up slightly when he’s relaxed, the way his fingers drum lightly against the table.

“Caught you,” he teases, his voice low but warm.

Your cheeks heat up as you quickly pick up your own menu. “Just deciding what to order,” you reply, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He chuckles softly, clearly not buying it but letting it slide. “Well, if you trust me, I’d say go with the chocolate peanut butter shake. It’s a classic.”

“Noted,” you say, still scanning the menu. “And what are you getting?”

“Same,” he says, setting the menu down confidently. “And the fries here? Unreal. We have to share.”

You laugh, finally closing your menu. “Fine, but only if I get to steal more than half.”

“Deal,” he says with a grin. The server comes by, taking your orders with a friendly smile, and as soon as they leave, Quinn rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward slightly. His eyes, even under the warm diner lights, hold a softness that makes your stomach flip.

“So,” he says, his tone teasing, “what’s the verdict on skating with a bunch of NHL players? Intimidating or not so bad?” You think for a moment, tapping your fingers lightly against the edge of the table. 

“Not so bad,” you admit. “But I think I was more worried about falling and making a fool of myself than anything else.”

Quinn’s smile widens. “You handled it like a pro. Way better than I did my first time skating with those guys.”

“Wait, are you telling me you’ve fallen on the ice in front of your teammates before?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up in mock disbelief.

“Not just fallen,” he says with a laugh. “I’ve wiped out. Full-on face-plant. And they will never let me live it down.”The image of Quinn sprawled out on the ice has you laughing so hard your sides ache. 

“You? The guy who skates backward without even trying? I need to see proof.”

“Oh, there’s proof,” he groans, shaking his head. “But you’re not getting your hands on it.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pretending to think. “We’ll see about that.”

The conversation flows easily, a mix of playful banter and genuine moments, and by the time your milkshakes and fries arrive, it feels like no time has passed at all. Quinn slides the basket of fries toward you first, motioning for you to take the first bite.

“Okay, you hyped these up,” you say, picking one up and dipping it into the side of ketchup. “They’d better be amazing.”

You take a bite, and your eyes widen in surprise. “Okay, wow. These are ridiculous.”

“Told you,” he says smugly, grabbing a fry of his own. “Now you see why I keep coming back here.” The two of you fall into a rhythm—sharing fries, sipping milkshakes, and trading stories about everything and nothing. It’s easy, comfortable, like you’ve been doing this for years instead of just one night. At one point, Quinn tells you about a prank his teammates pulled involving a lost skate blade and a bucket of confetti, and you laugh so hard you almost choke on your milkshake.

When the food is gone and the server drops off the check, Quinn is quick to grab it, waving off your protest before you can even get a word out.

“You can get the next one,” he says with a grin, slipping his card into the little black folder. “If I let you win.”

“Oh, you’re planning on more dates?” you tease, though your heart skips at the implication.

He leans forward slightly, his expression playful but earnest. “Absolutely.”

The drive back to your apartment is quieter but no less comfortable, the kind of silence that feels natural, like neither of you needs to fill it with words. When Quinn pulls up outside your building, he hops out quickly, coming around to open your door for you.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” you tease, stepping out.

“Not on my watch,” he replies with a wink.

The cold night air greets you as you step outside. Snowflakes drift lazily down, dusting the cars and sidewalks with a fresh layer of white. Quinn pauses, looking up at the sky.

“Perfect end to the night,” he says, his breath visible in the chill.

You tilt your head back, letting the snowflakes land on your face. “It really is.”

Quinn watches you for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Then, without warning, he scoops up a handful of snow, quickly packing it into a loose ball.

“What are you—” you start, but before you can finish, he gently taps the snowball against your shoulder, laughing.

“Oh, you’re asking for it,” you say, bending down to gather your own snow.

What follows is a brief but spirited snowball fight, laughter ringing out into the quiet night. Quinn, as it turns out, is both fast and surprisingly accurate, though he’s careful not to pelt you too hard. You manage to land a shot right on his chest, and his mock-offended expression is priceless. Finally, breathless and grinning, you both call a truce. Quinn brushes the snow off his jacket, his cheeks pink from the cold.

“You’re pretty competitive,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

“You bring it out of me,” you reply with a shrug, still smiling.

You both linger in the snow, his soft brown curls slowly becoming more decorated with the dropping snowflakes, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. With the snow falling softly and the world feels impossibly still. Quinn looks down at you, his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression softer now.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He steps closer, his breath visible in the cold. “No, thank you. For saying yes.”

For a moment, it feels like the world stops entirely. Then, Quinn reaches up, brushing a snowflake off your cheek before letting his hand linger, his thumb grazing your skin gently. Your breath catches, and before you can think, he’s leaning in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s as soft and warm as the snow falling around you, his hands latching onto your sweater to pull you closer.

When he pulls back, his eyes search yours, his voice quiet. “Can I see you again?” 

You smile, your cheeks flushing, but this time it’s not from the cold. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

[nhlclover]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒 | 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you and quinn finally break the news of your relationship to your families, bracing for their reactions while hoping for acceptance.

warnings: mostly fluff, jack luke and trevor being weird and trevor being overprotective, technically an age gap but not really (2 years), happy ending !

word count: 2.12k

Your stomach twisted with nerves as Quinn drove down the winding road to the lake house. Normally the trip to the lake house would bring waves of excitement, but the only thing you were feeling right now was anxious.

You met Quinn when you were sixteen, back when your family moved to Plymouth for Trevor’s hockey. It was through Trevor that you met the Hughes. During your time in Michigan, the Hughes’ became like a second family. Countless hours were spent at their house, watching games together, and sharing meals. It was during those years that your and Quinn’s friendship deepened. However, it wasn’t until a couple of years later when you reconnected in Vancouver that your friendship evolved into something more.

When you moved to Vancouver for work, you reconnected with Quinn and it felt like no time had passed. Initial coffee meet-ups turned into dinners then into dates. The transition from friends to more-than was natural and almost seamless as if you had always been meant to be together. Your friends in Vancouver remarked how perfect you seemed for each other; Quinn’s reserved and gentle nature balanced your outgoing and energetic personality.

Despite this, you couldn’t seem to shake the nerves that seemed to fill every inch of your body. This was because your brother and Quinn’s brothers didn’t know about the two of you yet.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them, in fact, you couldn’t wait for them to know and to witness their reactions when you told them. But with those thoughts came a rush of anxiety. You knew how protective Trevor could be over you, being wary of anyone who got close to you. The Hughes brothers, on the other hand, had known you for so long that it felt strange to think of them seeing you in a different light. The idea of their possible disapproval, or worse, pulling apart your chosen family, made your stomach churn.

“Hey,” Quinn said, his soft voice pulling you out of your daydream. You glanced over at Quinn, whose eyes were flicking back and forth between you and the road. “Everything will be fine.”

You let out a breath of air you weren’t aware you were holding. “I just… what if they aren’t okay with it?”

“Y/n… they’ll be happy for us. Stop worrying.” Quinn said, his eyes settling on the road. His calm demeanour was usually a source of comfort, but today it made you feel even more on edge. He reached over and squeezed your hand, a small gesture that sent a wave of warmth through you.

You nodded, silently wishing you could share his confidence. The lake house held so many memories, but this trip felt different. Maybe it was the significance of the moment—returning to a place where so many of your memories with the Hughes were made, but now as Quinn’s partner. The weight of it all felt overwhelming.

As the lake house came into view, your heart raced. The picturesque setting was just as you remembered, the sun glistening off the water, the house nestled in between the pines. Quinn parked the car between Jack and Trevors and you both stepped out, the fresh air coming off the lake instantly enveloping your lungs.

You grabbed your bags from the trunk, heading up towards the house where you spotted your twin brother and the rest of the Hughes family lounging on the front porch. They all greeted you with enthusiastic smiles and waves, unaware of the bombshell you were about to drop.

“Hey, you guys!” Trevor grinned, bounding off the porch towards the two of you. “How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” you replied, giving Trevor a hug. “Traffic wasn’t too bad.”

Quinn greeted his brothers before passing them off to you. Luke and Jack pulled you into a group hug, the older of the two giving you a small noogie. “It’s about time you two got here, we were beginning to think you got lost.” Luke joked.

“Thanks again for travelling with her man,” Trevor said, clapping a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “I hope she wasn’t a bother or anything.”

You glanced at Quinn, suppressing a smile towards the irony of Trevor’s comment. Little did your brother know that Quinn had been the biggest source of comfort throughout the trip, helping to ease the anxiety brought on by the prospect of telling everyone about you and Quinn.

“No, not at all,” Quinn replied. “She was good company.”

“Come on, let’s get inside,” Jack said, grabbing one of your bags and leading the way to the house. “Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, they’ve been waiting for the two of you.”

As you walked through the front door, the comforting aroma of the lake house hit you, and you couldn’t help but smile. It was these small, comforting details that made the lake house feel like home. Ellen and Jim greeted you warmly, pulling you both into hugs and insisting you sit down and relax.

“So, how’s Vancouver treating you?” Ellen asked.

“Really well,” you replied, glancing at Quinn. “Work is great, and the city is beautiful. I’ve been lucky to have Quinn show me around a lot.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has,” Jim said with a knowing smile. “You know, I’m glad the two of you are still so close.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you caught Quinn’s eye, his expression reassuring yet slightly amused. You knew in your chest that it was now or never. It was only going to get worse the longer you put it off. You took a deep breath, feeling Quinn’s hand gently rest on the small of your back as he stepped up beside you.

“Actually,” you began, your voice wavering just a bit, “there’s something we wanted to tell you all.”

The room fell silent, all eyes landing on you and Quinn. You saw Trevor’s eyes glance down to Quinn’s hand and then back to your face, a confused expression on his. You glanced at him, and he gave you a small nod, encouraging you to continue.

“Quinn and I are…we’re together,” you said, the words tumbling out faster than you intended. “As in, we’re dating.”

For a moment, there was complete silence. You could see the wheels turning in Trevor’s head, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. Luke and Jack exchanged glances, and Ellen’s face broke into a warm smile.

“Well, it’s about time,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I always thought you two would make a great couple.”

Jim nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Congratulations you two, we’re happy for you.”

You felt a small weight lift off your shoulders at the positive reaction from two people who were practically your parents but felt it fall right back down when you glanced over at the boys, all three of them looking shell-shocked.

“Wait, what?” Jack finally said, looking between you and Quinn. “You’re serious?”

Quinn nodded, his hand now tracing comforting circles on your back. “Yeah, we are.”

Trevor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Quinn. You could see the struggle in his eyes as he processed the information. The room felt heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts and emotions.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” Luke said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m happy for you guys, just… wow.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Yeah, same here. Just caught us off guard.”

The rest of the evening was filled with awkward conversations and forced smiles. Jim and Ellen did their best to keep the atmosphere light, but the tension was palpable. Every time Quinn held your hand in his or sidled yourself under Quinn’s arm, you could feel the tense glances from them. Discomfort radiated from every one of them.

As night fell and everyone started heading to bed, you couldn’t shake the unease. You lay awake, replaying the day’s events in your mind. Quinn had repeatedly given you reminders that everything would turn out okay and that they would come around eventually. But even as Quinn lay quietly beside you, his steady breathing reflecting his attitude from throughout the day, the attempts at comfort couldn’t fully erase the lingering anxiety.

The next morning, you awoke after little sleep, your racing mind keeping you awake throughout the night. You knew you couldn’t go on with feeling this way around the others. You descended the stairs, following the soft hum of conversation out to the porch where you found Trevor, Jack, and Luke sipping from steaming mugs. Taking a deep breath, you walked over and sat down, the cool morning air helping to steady your nerves.

“‘Morning,” you said softly, pulling the sleeves of Quinn’s hoodie down over your hands.

The three boys mumbled ‘good mornings’, not one of them bothering to look up from their mugs. You huffed, now feeling more annoyed than anxious that this had continued into the morning. “Can we talk?”

Trevor glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Sure.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before continuing. “I know yesterday was a lot to take in, and I just wanted to apologize if it felt sudden. But I need you all to understand how important this is to me. Quinn and I, we really care about each other.”

Luke sighed, setting his mug down on the side table. “We’re not upset, Y/N. It’s just… surprising. We’ve known you for so long… it’s just weird to think of you two as more than friends.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair, his expression soft. “And-and it’s not that we don’t support you… it’s just unexpected. But if you’re happy, then we’re happy.”

You smiled, feeling a bit of relief wash over you. However, you still felt a force pushing back in the form of your twin sitting in the chair across from you. You turned to Trevor, leaning forward to try and capture his gaze, which remained locked on the water. You could see conflict in his eyes, the protective older brother wrestling with the reality of the situation.

“Trevor?” you prompted gently.

He finally looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be happy, Y/N. I do. It’s just… Quinn’s my boy. If something goes wrong, it’s going to mess things up for all of us.”

You chuckled softly, reaching out and gently placing a hand on Trevor’s knee. “I get that you’re worried, Trev. But Quinn and I have thought about this. We know the risks, and we’re committed to making this work. He makes me happy, and I want you to see that.”

Trevor opened his mouth to speak but shut it and sighed instead. “I just… I don’t want to see you get hurt. And I don’t want to lose one of my best friends.”

“You won’t lose him,” you reassured him. “If anything, this will bring us all closer. But I need you to trust me. Trust us.”

Trevor studied your face for a long moment before finally nodding. “Okay. I trust you. But if he ever does anything to hurt you…” “I won’t, I promise.” You all turned to the doorway where a sleepy-looking Quinn stood. He came over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Trevor sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m just being the overprotective brother, I guess. It’s going to take some time to get used to this.”

“Well, now that we’ve gotten the serious stuff out of the way,” Jack said, breaking the tension with a grin, “who’s ready for some breakfast? I’m pretty sure Mom made pancakes.”

As you all made your way inside, the atmosphere felt lighter. Breakfast was a blend of easy conversation and laughter, the expected teasing coming in steady doses. The rest of the day felt like life was back to normal, the initial shock seemed to wear off, replaced by the warmth and support of both your real and chosen family.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, you found yourself sitting on the dock with Quinn, your feet dangling in the water. The events of the day played in your mind, the change in events now bringing you comfort.

“I told you it would be okay,” Quinn said softly, his hand intertwining with yours.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, a content sigh escaping your lips. “You were right. I just needed to get out of my own head.”

Quinn pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice filled with affection. “That’s what I’m here for.”

[kozylife]

—  MILES APART, HEARTS TOGETHER

quinn hughes x reader | wc 1105

summary. quinn tells you that he hasn't been sleeping lately after reuniting with you content. fluff, slight angst, reader's in college, lowercase intended author's note. this was very lazily proofread

long distance was hard.

very hard.

especially when your boyfriend was captain of his hockey team based in vancouver while you finished up college in michigan. in total, you and quinn were almost 2000 miles and a different time zone apart.

but since you had an upcoming free weekend, you were able to fly to vancouver to surprise him!

luckily, this friday night, quinn arrived home at a normal hour and you two were able to facetime before you were eventually too tired to stay awake.

"hi baby," you greet him before asking how practice went.

"it was really good, i feel great about our game tomorrow," he says as he repositions his phone, already laying in bed shirtless.

you hum, staring at your phone screen with adoration. his hair is tousled and he's smiling at the jokes you've made after asking about how your day went.

"it's been so long since i've seen you..." quinn almost whispers.

and as much as you wanted to reveal your surprise, you kept your response simple, "i know quinny, i miss you so much."

afterwards, he tells you how much he loves you with nothing but sincerity, warmth, and hints of exhaustion in his voice. you knew he was excited to be captain of his team, but there was a great deal of responsibility and stress that came with it, even after his first season in charge had passed.

you two converse a bit more, catching up since you've both been busy with school and hockey over the past few weeks. and as you glance up at the time on your phone, you notice it's midnight and that you need to go to bed for your early morning flight. after exchanging "goodnights" and "i love you's," you hung up the call.

-

it’s now the next evening and you’re getting seated in the family area of the ice rink, settling in with some of the other wags and their children. you made sure to sit in the front row so quinn would actually be able to notice you. unable to stop fidgeting, excitement bubbled in your chest as you saw your quinn skate out onto the rink to warm up. you watched him glide effortlessly over the ice, his gaze intense.

"so how's your time back in vancouver?" one wife asks you, happy to see you again.

"oh it's great! quinn doesn't know i'm here yet, i wanted to surprise him since we haven't seen each other in a while," you say, unable to stop grinning.

as the game commenced, your heart raced every time quinn touched the puck. the energy in the rink was infectious, and you found yourself caught up in all of the excitement, especially since quinn hadn't spotted you yet.

however, this changed when a break was called and both teams made their way to their respective benches. as quinn sat down and scanned the rink, your eyes met and his face instantly lit up with a wide grin and a sparkle in his big green eyes. his teammates poked him, asking what he was cheesing so hard at before he pointed towards you, wearing his jersey proudly.

the game continued, and you cheered louder than you were before, watching quinn assist a goal.

the final buzzer sounded, signifying a victory for the canucks. you felt a rush of exhilaration shoot through your body and you couldn't wait to finally get your hands on him.

when quinn stepped off the ice, he looked around, searching for you in the crowd. when he spotted you, he broke into a wide smile, and you waved frantically, immensely proud of your boyfriend.

“hang tight! i’ll be right there!” he shouted, his excitement palpable.

you could hardly contain your own as you waited, heart racing at the thought of wrapping your arms around him again. the distance had been tough, but moments like this made it all worthwhile.

-

after the post-game celebrations and interviews, quinn drove you two back to his place with his hand comfortably resting on your thigh, squeezing every now and then. entering the apartment, you took your shoes and jacket off, ready to finally rest after a long day of mostly traveling.

“can we talk?” quinn asked behind you, his voice low.

“of course,” you replied, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

you both settled on the couch, and the excitement from earlier faded into an intimate silence. quinn ran a hand through his hair, a habit you recognized when he was feeling overwhelmed. “i haven't been sleeping well,” he began, his eyes meeting yours with a weight that made your heart skip a couple of beats. “between the games, the practices, and all the pressure… it’s been a lot. i thought i could handle it, but it’s just… hard being away from you.”

your heart ached at his words and you reached out, placing your hand on his. “oh quinn, i wish you had told me. i’ll always be here for you, even when i'm not physically present," your voice laced with sympathy.

“i know,” he said, his voice softening. “but i didn’t want to worry you. i thought i could push through it, but seeing you tonight reminded me just how much I miss you, how much I need you.”

you intertwined your hands with his as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes before you spoke again, “you don’t have to do this alone, you know. we’re in this together, so it’s okay to lean on me. whenever you need to."

“you’re doing your best, quinny, and i admire you for it. i’m proud of you, and i love you.” you reassured him once again.

as he looked into your eyes, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease. “i love you too,” he whispered, “more than you know.”

you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him. quinn buried his face in your neck, and for a moment, everything felt right. the distance and the struggles all faded away, replaced by the warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breath against your skin.

“i’m here for the weekend,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, "let’s make the most of it. you don’t have to worry about anything else.”

his eyes brightened at the thought, and a small smile crept back onto his lips.

with that, you both sank back into the couch, and as you talked late into the night, sharing stories, laughter, and a few quiet moments, you knew that no matter the miles between you, your love would always bridge the gap.

author's note. this started out as something completelyyy different but i'm happy with the direction i took lol. tomorrow i'll post my about me page !!

[capquinn]

In Between | Q. Hughes

summary: your friendship with quinn is slowly transforming. there is an unspoken tension and feelings that simmer beneath the surface, keeping you on the edge of friendship and something more. the in-between is where you both linger, uncertain yet drawn to each other. based upon the song in between by gracie abrams [request] pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: friends to lovers, mutual pining, bit of fluff, easy reading word count: 4.9k ↪masterlist

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Quinn has felt it for a while, though he’s tried to push it aside. It’s subtle at first — small changes in the way he anticipates your messages, the way his heart skips when his phone buzzes, hoping it’s you. He finds himself checking his phone more than usual, almost unconsciously, just to see if you’ve sent something. And when you haven’t, there’s that quiet ache in his stomach, a flicker of disappointment that he tries to ignore. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself, we’re just friends. But the more he talks to you, the more he’s beginning to realise that, whatever it is, feels different.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"I just can't come between 'em, they got their own thing I wish he'd stop pretendin', he won't let his phone ring For more than a couple seconds, oh, I think maybe two Two hearts just fallin' in and out of love for somethin' new"

Quinn’s back home for the summer, a rare stretch of time when he’s free from the constant grind of the season. His brothers are sprawled out on the living room floor, teasing each other as they dive into a game of cards. It’s loud, it’s chaotic, and it feels like home. He loves it — this easy, familiar rhythm of being back with his family.

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, cutting through the noise. He glances at the screen and, without hesitation, picks it up. Your name flashes across the screen, and there’s no delay in his reaction — he’s quick to answer nowadays, barely letting it ring twice, his voice immediately softening as he presses the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he says, and the easy grin that spreads across his face doesn’t go unnoticed by his brothers.

Jack and Luke exchange a knowing glance. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. They’ve seen this look before. The way Quinn’s whole demeanour shifts when he’s talking to you, how his voice drops to that soft, relaxed tone that only seems to happen when you call and a beaming smile that reaches his eyes. 

“Everything okay?” Quinn asks, his attention fully on you, completely oblivious to the smirks forming on his brothers' faces.

“Yeah, just wanted to check in,” you reply on the other end, your voice a little muffled, but he hears the warmth in it. “You doing anything important?”

Quinn leans back in his chair, ignoring Jack’s playful elbow jab as Luke mutters something under his breath that he chooses to ignore. “Nothing important. Just hanging out.”

Since Quinn has been away, you’ve been in more contact than usual; trying to stay connected despite the distance. Calls that stretch late into the night and texts exchanged throughout the day. What were once quick updates are now filled with small, meaningful details and random moments from your day, like you’re inviting him into your world. At first, it felt casual, like old friends catching up but somewhere along the way, it all started to feel different — more intimate and filled with silences that seem to say more than words.

The conversation flows easily, the kind of back-and-forth that’s always existed between you two. You talk about the little things in your day, sharing stories, inside jokes, and quick laughs that come effortlessly, just like always. Quinn’s responses are natural, his voice relaxed, his words flowing without hesitation. It feels familiar, comfortable — like home. But there’s something more beneath the surface now. 

Quinn has felt it for a while, though he’s tried to push it aside. It’s subtle at first — small changes in the way he anticipates your messages, the way his heart skips when his phone buzzes, hoping it’s you. He finds himself checking his phone more than usual, almost unconsciously, just to see if you’ve sent something. And when you haven’t, there’s that quiet ache in his stomach, a flicker of disappointment that he tries to ignore. It’s ridiculous, he tells himself, we’re just friends. But the more he talks to you, the more he’s beginning to realise that, whatever it is, feels different.

He’s trying to pretend it’s just the distance. It’s easier that way, less complicated. You haven’t seen each other in a while — of course he misses you. That’s normal, right? It’s been months since he’s been in the city, and he hasn’t had the chance to hang out with you like he used to. That’s all it is, he tells himself. He’s just missing his friend. But deep down, he knows it’s more than that. This longing he feels isn’t just about the physical distance between you; it’s about the emotional closeness that’s been growing steadily with every call, every shared laugh, every moment that feels more intimate than the last.

The truth is, it’s not just in his head. The way you talk to each other now — the pauses, the laughs, the silences that stretch a little too long — it all feels different. There’s a tension building beneath the surface, and no matter how much Quinn tries to downplay it, it’s there. He knows it, and he’s pretty sure you do too.

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to it,” you say after a few minutes, your voice carrying that familiar warmth that always makes Quinn smile. “Talk soon?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice softening even more, trying to sound indifferent that the phone call is ending sooner than he’d like. “Talk soon.”

As soon as he hangs up, he’s met with the inevitable barrage of playful nudges from his brothers. Jack leans over, raising an eyebrow in Quinn’s direction. “You could’ve pretended not to be so eager, you know.”

Luke snickers from his spot on the floor, tossing a card into the pile. “She calls, and it’s like everything else just disappears.”

Quinn rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the slight blush creeping up his neck. “Shut up.”

But Jack isn’t done. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, grinning widely. “Come on, man. We all see it.”

“There’s nothing to see,” Quinn insists, leaning back, trying to brush it off like he always does. But he knows it’s a weak deflection. He’s never been able to hide much from his brothers, and when it comes to you, they’ve seen right through him for a while now.

"Their past is cold and empty, they know it's been enough Of waitin' on somebody, someone who doesn't care But he knows her name, she knows he'll always be there"

The bar is buzzing with life — the hum of music, the clinking of glasses, the laughter of people drifting through the air — but it feels distant, like a backdrop to the moment unfolding between you and Quinn. Tucked away in a quiet corner booth, it’s just the two of you, like the rest of the world has blurred out. Ever since Quinn got back to town, it’s been different. The usual rhythm of your friendship has shifted, and you both feel it — the weight of something unsaid, the way every glance and touch feels like it carries a thousand unspoken words.

You’ve been trying to ignore it, trying to convince yourself that maybe you’re imagining things, but the way Quinn’s knee has been brushing against yours under the table, staying there a little too long, makes you question it. It feels deliberate, intentional, as if he’s just waiting for you to acknowledge it. His eyes keep flicking to yours as he talks about training, about the grind of the upcoming season, but you can sense his focus isn’t on hockey. He’s distracted — and so are you.

You take a deep breath, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you try to steady yourself. “I ended things with that guy.” You watch Quinn as the words leave your mouth, a little too quickly, a little too nervously.

His reaction is subtle — just a slight pause in his movements. His fingers tighten briefly around the glass in his hand, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. But you’ve known Quinn long enough to catch the shift. The easy smile he wore just a second ago falters, and his eyes flicker away from yours, just for a moment. He’s listening, but something has shifted in him now, and you feel it settle in the air between you.

You should feel relieved, like you’ve gotten it off your chest, but instead, your pulse quickens, and the warmth in the room seems to move with it.

Quinn leans back in his seat, taking a long sip of his drink, his jaw tight. “Yeah? You weren’t happy?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge there, something quiet and careful, as if he’s trying not to show too much. His eyes meet yours again, and though he’s trying to keep his usual steady demeanour, you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his body has gone just a little bit rigid.

You hesitate, unsure how to answer. It wasn’t about being happy or unhappy with the guy, not really. It was more about how that relationship never stood a chance, not with the way your thoughts have been tangled up in Quinn. But you can’t say that — not here, not now. The tension between you both is palpable, and you’re not sure how much more you can handle.

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “I guess it just didn’t feel right, you know?”

His gaze sharpens, and you swear you see something flicker behind his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah,” he says, a little too quickly, his voice low and almost distant. “Sometimes it’s like that.”

There’s a beat of silence, and in that moment, everything feels heavy. His leg, which has been brushing against yours under the table, remains there. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t shift, and it sends a wave of awareness through you. You don’t move either. The tension is thick now, humming between you, filling the space that once felt comfortable, but now feels charged with everything you’re both avoiding.

Quinn’s fingers tap against the glass, a telltale sign of his discomfort, but his eyes are locked on yours. The casual ease of your conversation is gone, replaced by something deeper, something unspoken that neither of you can quite name. His usual calm demeanour is cracking, but he’s still trying to hold it together, just like you are.

“You good with it?” he asks, his voice softer now, but there’s a heaviness behind his words, like he’s asking about more than just the breakup. Like he’s asking if you’re okay with the way things are between you and him — the way they haven’t been acknowledged, the way you’ve both been skirting around the inevitable.

You feel your heart skip as you nod. “Yeah. I think it’s for the best.”

He looks down at the table, lips pressing into a thin line, and you wonder if he’s disappointed or if he’s relieved that you’ve dodged the real issue again. The tension between you feels almost unbearable now, like it’s right there, ready to spill over if either of you says the wrong thing. You can see it in the way his posture has shifted, more closed off than usual, and you know he’s doing the same thing you are — keeping it all locked up inside.

The longer the silence stretches, the more aware you become of the weight of his gaze, the subtle shift in his demeanour. His leg remains pressed against yours, and now it feels more deliberate, like he’s testing your boundaries without crossing the line. It sends a shiver through you, but still, you don’t pull away.

You clear your throat, trying to break the tension that’s winding tighter between you both. “So... hockey. You’re ready for the season?” It’s a weak attempt to redirect, but you can’t handle the intensity in his eyes any longer.

Quinn lets out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh of resignation, and his lips curve into a small, humourless smile. “Yeah,” he says, though it’s clear his mind is elsewhere. “Always ready.”

But he’s not talking about hockey anymore. You know it. He knows it. The tension between you is almost suffocating now. You’ve both sidestepped it once again, pretending everything is fine when you both know it’s not.

Still, the silence stretches, and his eyes drift back to yours, holding your gaze for just a moment longer than before. His leg stays where it is, pressed against yours, warm and steady, like an unspoken promise.

You don’t move. Neither does he.

And the tension, the thing you’ve both been avoiding for so long, continues to simmer beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when one of you finally decides to break.

"She toes the line between 'em, he says he's new at this There's holy ground beneath them, and sparks fly when they kiss"

It’s an unusually free Friday night for Quinn — no games, no media commitments, just a rare quiet slot of time that you had both been looking forward to. You’re both on his sofa, a bottle of red wine shared between you, glasses resting on the coffee table as the conversation ebbs and flows. The city is muted through the window, the distant hum of the nightlife outside contrasting with the stillness in his apartment.

The warmth of the wine is settling in, buzzing just beneath your skin, making everything feel a little softer, a little easier. You’re both relaxed, more than you’ve been in a while, and the absence of his usual responsibilities means there is nothing pulling him away. It’s just you and him, and this moment that feels long overdue. 

The conversation has slowed into something quieter now, the playful banter from earlier fading as the night deepens. You’re sitting closer than usual, your legs brushing his, your bodies naturally leaning toward each other in the comfortable warmth of the room, and while you’d like to blame it entirely on the wine, you both know that isn’t true. The drinks are just an excuse, a convenient explanation for the shift that’s been happening between you for weeks — the simmering tension that neither of you have acknowledged yet.

The wineglass in your hand feels warm, the liquid swirling as you take another sip, and you glance over at Quinn. He’s leaning back against the couch, his arm draped along the top, not quite touching you, but close enough that the proximity feels charged. 

You laugh at something Quinn says, the sound filling the quiet space between you, and without thinking, you scoot closer, resting your head on his shoulder. It feels natural, effortless, and you can feel his body relax slightly next to yours. 

“This is nice… being here with you,” you sigh softly, your words lingering in the air, more meaningful than they might seem.

Quinn shifts beside you, turning slightly as if to make more room for you to settle in even closer. His hand, now just brushing against your knee, lingers longer than before. His arm draped along the back of the couch still isn’t quite around your shoulders, but it’s close enough that anyone watching would assume the two of you were already past the point of casual.

There’s a silence between you, the kind that speaks louder than anything either of you could say. The tension, the closeness, the feeling that everything has led up to this moment — it’s undeniable.

Then, softly, Quinn breaks the silence, his voice low and a little hesitant, as if he needs confirmation of what’s already clear. “You feel it too, right?”

He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for clarity, for reassurance. His question isn’t just about tonight — it’s about everything that’s been building between you. The tension, the unspoken connection that’s simmered for a while now. His question hangs in the air, waiting.

You nod, the answer already written across your face before the words even come. “Yeah,” you say, your voice sure. “I do.”

The relief on his face is immediate, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The space between you closes, the weight of the unspoken words dissolves, and suddenly, you’re no longer just two friends dancing around something more.

Quinn’s eyes remain locked on yours, and there’s a vulnerability in his expression that wasn’t there before. He shifts again, his hand moving fully to rest against your thigh now, his touch warm and steady. The question had been lingering between you both for so long, and now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like something is shifting beneath your feet, like you’re standing on the edge of something new, something sacred.

He lets out a small, almost nervous laugh, and his lips curve into a soft smile. 

“I’m new at this,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not just about admitting he’s new to this kind of intimacy. It’s more than that. It’s about navigating uncharted territory, stepping into something that feels both familiar and foreign all at once. Moving this friendship into something more, and for the love of all things holy, not messing it up. His eyes flicker down for a moment, as if he’s trying to gather himself before looking back at you. “I don’t really know how to...”

The words trail off, but they don’t need to be completed. You can feel the weight of what he’s saying.

There’s a silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable. The ground beneath you feels as is its trembling with anticipation, and the moment stretches as Quinn inches closer, his breath warm against your skin. There’s a pause — like he’s giving you one last chance to pull back, to stay in the safety of what you were before — but you don’t.

Quinn's lips meet yours, and the world seems to tilt on its axis. The kiss is soft at first, almost hesitant, as if he's still unsure, but that uncertainty dissolves almost immediately. The tension that’s been coiling between you for weeks… months… finally snaps, unraveling with each second that passes. His hand tightens on your leg, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s grounding himself in this moment, tethering himself to the reality of what’s happening between you.

The kiss deepens, slow but intense, and it feels like every suppressed emotion, every lingering glance, every accidental touch is being released all at once. There’s a heat between you that wasn’t there before. It’s something that goes beyond the warmth of the room or the haze of the drinks. This is raw, electric, and it pulses through you with every breath you take.

His other hand, the one draped over the back of the couch, finally moves, slipping down to gently rest on your shoulder before sliding around to your back. His fingers trace a slow, deliberate path along your spine, and it sends shivers racing down your body. The contact is firm but tender, pulling you in closer, until there’s barely any space left between you.

You respond instinctively, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palms. His heart is pounding just as hard as yours, and the realisation of that shared vulnerability only intensifies the moment. The air between you buzzes, charged with every unspoken word, every unsaid feeling. Your hands slide upward, fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer.

There’s no hesitation now. The pent-up tension that’s been simmering for so long unravels in waves, and it’s not just the kiss. It’s the way your bodies move together, how every touch feels deliberate, meaningful, like you’re both making up for all the moments you held back.

Quinn shifts slightly, pulling you with him, deepening the kiss, and you feel the weight of him, the heat of him, pressing against you. His hands roam more freely now, one slipping from your back to rest on your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, tugging you closer, needing you closer. Your legs brush against his, and it’s as though every point of contact is sparking something more urgent.

The world outside fades, and all you can feel is him. His warmth. His breath. His heart beating against yours. The tension between you isn’t just releasing — it’s transforming.

There’s no need for words. Everything is being said in the way his hands move over your body, the way your fingers press into his skin, the way the kiss deepens and slows, and deepens again. The tension that’s been keeping you apart for so long has unraveled, and now all that’s left is this — this raw, electric pull that neither of you are resisting anymore.

"She loves how he talks late at night, when there's no one else to say How she's beautiful and funny and smart like nothin' he's ever seen He's good to her and she wants it more than everything in between"

The phone buzzes softly on your nightstand, and you don’t hesitate to grab it, your heart skipping a beat when you see Quinn’s name lighting up the screen. You’ve been in bed for a while now, trying to lose yourself in a book, but the pages blurred as your thoughts drifted to him — away on a road trip for a series of games, alone in some unknown hotel room, hundreds of miles between you. Though it’s not the first time he’s been gone for a stretch, this is the first time you’ve been apart for so long since everything changed between you. The distance feels like more than just time zones. It’s a physical ache, an emptiness that lingers.

You answer on the second ring, eager to hear his voice. “Hey,” you murmur, the late hour making your voice rough.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice comes through, low and familiar, and just hearing it feels like a balm to the loneliness that’s been creeping in. You can hear the soft rustle of sheets, maybe the distant murmur of a TV on low, and you imagine him in some anonymous hotel room, far from you but somehow closer with every word.

“How’s the trip?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation light even though your chest tightens just hearing his voice.

“Same as usual,” Quinn responds, a hint of exhaustion creeping into his tone. “Long flights, long days. But…” There’s a pause, and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it. “I miss you.”

There’s something so vulnerable in those three words, something that makes your heart clench, and you find yourself smiling into the phone. “I miss you too.”

You can picture him there, lying back in bed, maybe one arm draped over his forehead like he does when he’s trying to hide how tired he is. 

“I love this,” you murmur into the phone, your voice soft, barely cutting through the quiet. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the pattern of the blanket draped across your lap.

“What’s that?” Quinn’s voice, low and a little rough from the day, comes through the line, and even though you can’t see him, you can hear the curiosity in his tone.

“This,” you say with a quiet smile. “Just you. Talking like that.”

On the other end of the line, you hear Quinn chuckle softly, the sound rumbling through the phone in a way that makes you wish he was here, with his laughter vibrating against your skin. “You love hearing me talk, huh?” There’s a teasing lilt to his words.

You press the phone closer to your ear, as if somehow it could make him feel closer. “Yeah, I do,” you admit, feeling the warmth of your confession. “Especially when you get all sweet on me.”

There’s a pause, a beat of quiet between you, and you can practically see Quinn shifting, running a hand through his hair the way he does when he’s caught off guard. “I don’t get sweet,” he protests, but there’s no conviction in his voice. You both know better.

“Mhm, sure you don’t,” you tease gently, heart fluttering. “You don’t tell me I’m beautiful, funny, smart — none of that?”

He sighs, but you can hear the smile in his voice. “Alright, maybe I’ve said that once or twice.”

The air feels lighter between you now, but it’s not enough to shake the ache in your chest, the emptiness of the space beside you. Even through the phone, you can feel the weight of his absence like a shadow, clinging to every moment. This is the part of loving him you didn’t expect — the way missing him would feel so physical, like something tangible pressing against you in the quiet.

Time feels fluid, stretching and slipping away as you talk with Quinn. His voice, low and familiar, wraps around you like a blanket, and the distance between you feels inconsequential, almost forgotten. The conversation is effortless, a mix of soft teasing and the easy exchange of stories from your day — his tales from the road, your small updates, and the shared laughter that punctuates each moment. It's the kind of talk that feels more intimate than the miles would suggest, as if his voice alone closes the gap between you.

Every now and then, the conversation drifts into comfortable silence. You can hear the soft rustle of sheets on his end, the quiet rhythm of his breathing, steady and even.

For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep — the stillness of his breathing so steady it lulls you, too, into a softer state. But just when you think he’s drifted off, his voice breaks through again, raspy and warm. The sound of it tugs at your heart, a gentle reminder that he’s just as reluctant to let go of this moment as you are.

“You should be sleeping,” you murmur gently, the words laced with both affection and concern.

Quinn chuckles softly, and the sound is so familiar that it tugs at your heart. “Yeah, I probably should,” he admits, though neither of you move to end the conversation. You hear the faint rustle of sheets as he shifts, settling deeper into bed, but there’s still no rush to say goodnight.

Eventually, you give in, your voice thick with exhaustion, still playful. “Goodnight, Quinn,” you say, the words rolling off your tongue in a sing-song tone.

“Don’t go,” he whines softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice, even though he’s clearly just as tired.

“It’s late,” you remind him, knowing he’s been dreading the blare of his alarm in just a few hours.

“Don’t care,” he half lies, and you know he’d stay on the line as long as you let him.

You let out a small laugh. “I’m going to hang up now, but I’m doing it for your own good, so you can’t be mad at me.” 

Quinn sighs on the other end of the line, a sound that’s both exasperated and warm, like he’s really not ready to say goodnight. But before he can protest again, the words slip out — “goodnight. Love you.” 

And for a split second, the air goes still, and your heart skips, freezing in this fragile moment where everything feels suspended. You realise what you’ve said, what’s just hung in the silence between you. Panic flares in your chest, sharp and hot, and before Quinn can respond, you fumble to end the call, your finger hitting the button too fast. 

You toss your phone under your pillow, rolling over as if you can outrun the wave of mortification crashing over you. Your mind spins, replaying the words, each syllable sharper than the last. How could you say it like that? Blurt it out so casually, without thought? What if it was too soon, too forward? What if you’ve pushed him away, scared him off when everything was finally right between you?

The thoughts whirl through your mind, gaining speed as you lie there, squeezing your eyes shut like it’ll stop the embarrassment creeping up your spine. But just as the spiral begins to tighten, your phone buzzes from beneath the pillow. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. 

With trembling hands, you pull the phone out, dread settling like a heavy weight in your stomach. The screen lights up, and for a second, you hesitate, afraid of what you might see. But then your eyes land on the message, and your breath hitches.

Quinny: Love you too

Relief floods you so quickly it makes you dizzy, your heart swelling with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as the tension in your body melts away. The words linger in front of you, simple and sure, and you feel the warmth of them settle into your chest, softening everything.

Quinn’s message glows softly in the dim light, and though your relationship has been official for months, it still feels like a quiet, pivotal moment. The in-between — the space you both danced around for so long — has long since disappeared, but the echoes of it remain. It wasn’t just a transition from friends to something more; it was the space where your connection deepened, where the foundation of everything you have now was laid. The friendship that came first is woven into every moment of this relationship, grounding you both in something real, something steady.

You think about that, about how the laughter, trust, and late-night conversations that once kept you in the comfort of friendship are now the very things that make this love feel solid. The in-between was where you found your footing, but it’s the friendship that carried you here, to this place where being with Quinn, loving him, feels as natural as breathing.

[alisonwritesimagines]

Wayne Family Garden ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Your plan on growing a garden. However, you don’t have a green thumb. Luckily, you know someone who does.

Author’s Note: I'm obessed with the Wayne Family Adventures on WebToons. Like you don't know how obsessed I am with them.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, Poison Ivy and Harley know the Batfam's identies (its canon)

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

"What do you think Alfred?"

"I think having a lemon tree could really benefit the garden and our groceries," Alfred tells you.

"Maybe we can have an apple tree too?" You said.

"Sounds delightful. And Master Bruce agreed to your garden?"

"Yup. Said we can have it on the side in the backyard. And we can grow whatever we want," you smiled.

"We should start off small then," Alfred said.

"Right. So then a lemon tree, an apple tree, and carrots?" You asked.

"Sounds good to me," Alfred smiled.

You had been growing more bored around your home now that most of your kids were adults and had moved out of the mansion. So after seeing a good amount of gardening TikToks, you wanted to start your own little garden. But there was one slight problem, you didn't know how to garden.

So there was one person you could think of who could help you start off. You didn't want to bother Alfred more than what he has to deal with so you used your husband's technology to find a certain someone.

The apartment complex looked a little run down but yet again, you knew this was where they would be laying low. You knocked on the front door, only to see Harley Quinn opening it up.

"Mrs. Wayne? Whatcha doin here?" Harley asked you.

"Hiya, Harley. I'm looking for Ivy. Is she around?" You asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Harley asked.

"Harley. Who is it?" You heard Ivy ask.

"It's Y/n Wayne! Batman's wife!" Harley said excitedly.

"Hi, Ivy. I came here to ask for a favor," you tell her.

"Uh sure. What's up?" Ivy asked.

"I am currently planting a garden at my home but the problem is, I don't know how to garden. I was wondering if you can help me out," you asked her.

"Don't you have a butler who also knows how to garden?" Ivy asked.

"Yes but I don't want to bother him more than my family already has. And besides, I need more females around the house," you mentioned.

"What are you trying to grow?" Harley asked.

"I would like to start off with a lemon tree, an orange tree, and an apple tree. But I know those take a couple years to grow but I would like to begin growing carrots, tomatoes, and green beans as well," you tell her.

"Those are good to start off with," Ivy mentioned.

"Thanks. So will you come by my house with me and help me get started? I have the tools and everything to start off," you asked her.

"Yeah. My schedule is clear for today," Ivy shrugged.

"Thank you! Harley! You can come over too," you invited.

"Oh sweet!"

Whenever it was a light night, meaning that there was barely crime for once in Gotham, the whole family would get together for dinner. However, they were surprised to see two new comers joining you all in dinner.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves for the night. Ivy and Harley are my guests as they helped me with my garden today," you tell your family.

"Yes mom."

"And no hero or villain talk in the table. I would like a dinner where we can just eat like normal people for once," you say as you prepped the table.

During dinner, everyone ate peacefully but kept a close eye on Harley and Ivy. It was mainly you talking about the garden and your plans for it.

"What are you planning on growing in the garden ummi?" Damien asked you.

"I would like a lemon, orange, and an apple tree but I know those take a while to grow. But I'm also planning on growing some carrots, green beans, and tomatoes to start off," you say excitedly.

"Just make sure to follow the instructions I gave you," Ivy said.

"Of course. And I'll call you in case anything happens," you smiled at her.

The next few weeks, you were proud of your work. The trees were starting to form slowly but surely. You kept notes to check your progress as well as making sure everything was going smoothly. So it wasn't a surprise for the batfamily to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to their house every week to help check on your garden.

"They're growing good," Ivy tells you,

"Thank you!"

"If you want, I can help you speed up the process for the trees."

"I know I should wait but I do want to try baking an apple pie and make my own orange juice."

"As long as you keep maintaining it you should be fine."

"Mmm. Okay. Let's do it!"

Cassandra and Stephanie quickly rushed over to Harley's and Ivy's place with the bag from their mom. It had been a couple weeks since Ivy and Harley last visited you and your garden. Cassandra knocked on the door, waiting for one of them to answer.

"What do you kids want?" Ivy asked as she opened the door.

"wanted us to drop this off to you," Stephanie said as she handed her the bag. Ivy looked into it before smiling. A fresh apple pie along with a pitcher of orange juice and lemonade were placed in the bag.

"Tell her we said thank you."

"We will!"

"Let her know that if she wants to start something new, have her call me," Ivy tells the girls.

"We will!"