#also quinn: stop that immediately >:( !!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

willowsnook · 4 months ago

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halfway to always

quinn hughes x sharks!reader

summary: reader is Macklin and Will's bff who works for the Sharks. She gets invited to the lakehouse after meeting Jack Hughes who thinks she would be perfect for his brother.

There was a week-long break after the Devils played the Sharks, and Jack Hughes was eager to take advantage of a couple of extra days in the sunny weather of San Jose. After a grueling stretch of games, a beach day sounded perfect.

“We just need to stop and pick one more person up, and then we’ll be good to go,” Macklin Celebrini said as he slid into the driver’s seat of the car.

“Who?” Jack asked, shifting in his seat to glance at Will Smith in the back.

“Y/n,” Macklin answered simply.

Will furrowed his brows. “Does she even know we’re coming?”

“No, but I’m sure she isn’t doing anything,” Macklin chirped, grinning. Will snorted in response, clearly used to this kind of behavior from him.

“Who’s Y/n?” Jack questioned, still confused.

“She’s our best friend,” Will said casually. “She also works for the Sharks in player personnel, which is how we met her.”

“Yeah, her job was to make sure we started acting like adults, and now she’s stuck with us forever,” Macklin joked.

Jack smirked. “Is she dating one of you?”

“I wish,” Will scoffed. “She says that we’re babies. But she’s our best friend for real; you’ll love her.”

When they finally made it to your door, Jack immediately understood why they were both so attached to you. You were stunning. Your long hair was piled haphazardly on top of your head, and you answered the door in an oversized Sharks sweatshirt and shorts, your bare legs curled slightly from standing in the doorway. There was an immediate spark of curiosity in Jack, but what entertained him most was the way your expression immediately twisted into mild annoyance the second you saw Macklin and Will.

“What are you doing here?” you asked warily, your voice laced with irritation.

“Come to the beach with us, please,” Macklin begged, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

“I’m busy,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No, you aren’t,” Will countered, stepping around you and waltzing into the apartment like he owned the place. “This is Jack, by the way.”

“I know who he is,” you grumbled, stepping aside to let them all in.

“Sorry to intrude,” Jack said sheepishly, and you waved him off.

“This is like every day of my life.”

Will and Macklin made themselves comfortable on your couch as you sighed, resigning yourself to their plans. As much as you griped about babysitting them, they were your best friends. What had started as a work obligation had turned into late-night hangouts, last-minute road trip plans, and a friendship you wouldn’t trade for anything.

You disappeared into your room to change, and when you emerged, Jack’s eyes instinctively followed you.

“Did you bring sunscreen? Food? Water?” you asked, hands on your hips.

Will and Macklin exchanged a sheepish glance before shaking their heads.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, moving into the kitchen to gather supplies.

“She’s like our mom,” Will told Jack, watching as you furrowed your brows in concentration while making sandwiches. “We’d probably die without her.”

“She tells us we’re like Ollie and Andy from Bob’s Burgers all the time,” Macklin added with a groan.

Jack snorted. He leaned against the counter, watching you thoughtfully. There was something about you that reminded him of his older brother.

“She’s kind of like Quinn,” he mused.

“That’s actually a good comparison,�� Macklin said, nodding. “They’d be a hot couple.”

“Macklin,” you warned, hearing him loud and clear.

“What?” Macklin shrugged innocently. “I’m just saying. You’re both responsible adults who take care of children like us.”

You rolled your eyes, placing the last sandwich in the cooler. "I've never even met Quinn."

"But you've watched him play," Will pointed out with a smirk. "Remember when you said his edge work was—"

"Finish that sentence and I'm not packing any beer," you threatened, pointing a knife still coated in mayo at him.

Will immediately clamped his mouth shut while Jack's interest was piqued. "What did she say about Quinn's edge work?"

"Nothing," you said quickly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Just professional observations."

Will smartly kept his mouth shut as you finished packing the cooler. Soon, you were all piled into the car, en route to the beach.

Once there, Macklin took off toward the water while you fell into step beside Will, Jack trailing slightly behind.

“You good?” you asked Will softly. He had been acting a little off since earlier—nothing obvious, but you knew him well enough to catch it.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. Too quickly. You shot him a look, and he sighed. “A lot of people are saying I should get sent down.”

Your heart clenched. You knew he was struggling a little, especially compared to how well Macklin was doing.

“A lot of people aren’t Coach,” you said gently. “You know what you need to work on.”

“I know,” he admitted. “The pressure is getting to me.”

“I’ll come in early with you this week to set up drills,” you offered.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re too good to me.” He threw an arm around your shoulders as you walked down the beach together.

Jack watched the interaction quietly. He knew how tough it was to be a rookie in the NHL, and it reassured him to see that Will had someone looking out for him. He thought about Quinn and how the weight of being a captain seemed to be isolating him more and more.

As the day went on, you and Jack got to know each other better. He was charming, easy to talk to, and you found yourself enjoying his company more than expected.

“Do you have the summer off too?” Jack asked as you reapplied sunscreen.

You chuckled. “No, some of us have real jobs.”

Jack blushed. “I meant, do you get any time off?”

“I take most of my PTO during the summer,” you admitted.

“You should come to the lake with us,” he suggested. “Macklin and Will are already coming, and we have plenty of extra space.”

You hesitated, meeting his hopeful gaze. “I don’t want to intrude on guy time.”

“There will be other girls there,” he assured you. “And honestly, I don’t think they would survive without you.”

Macklin and Will reappeared, both dripping wet.

“Convincing her to come to the lake?” Macklin asked, moving his wet hair purposely over you to drip. You swatted at him but he jumped out of the way laughing.

“Please come, Y/n,” Will pleaded.

You sighed, leaning back against your towel. “Fine.”

Jack grinned. Maybe this trip would be more interesting than he thought.

—----------------------------------------------------

You landed in Michigan the evening of your first day off. Will came to get you and he swept you up in his arms the second he saw you.

“I missed you,” he exclaimed dramatically as you giggled, finally pulling apart.

“It’s been like three days buddy,” you reminded him, passing your bag off for him to carry.

“Three days too long, it’s been boring without you,” he complained.

“I doubt that,” you replied, amused. He talked your ear off on the ride to the house, mentioning that you just had time to drop your stuff off before they had a bonfire that night.

Macklin was sitting on the steps as you pulled up, bouncing up eagerly the second he saw you.

“Y/n!” He yelled bolting towards you.

“Hi Mack,” you laughed into him, melting into his familiar embrace. Will carried your stuff in and you let Macklin lead you into the house.

“Hey Jack,” you greeted, waving to the boy who was waiting in the entryway. He pulled you into a hug.

“Good to see you, y/n,” he said before tugging your arm. “Let me introduce you to everyone else.”

You met his younger brother Luke, his teammate Nico and his girlfriend, and then finally his older brother.

“I’m Quinn,” the oldest Hughes brother said, sticking out a hand to you. He had an amused expression on his face which you knew had to do with the two bouncing balls of energy that were behind you. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

"All good things, I hope," you said, feeling a flicker of self-consciousness as Quinn's hand lingered in yours a moment longer than necessary.

"Mostly complaints about how you force them to act like grown-ups," Quinn replied with a slight smirk, releasing your hand. "Which, honestly, is impressive. Getting Macklin to pick up after himself when he stayed with us was a challenge."

You laughed, feeling yourself relax a little. There was something about Quinn that put you at ease—a quiet confidence that contrasted with Macklin and Will's chaotic energy.

"I'll show you where you're staying," Jack offered, grabbing your bag from Will.

"I can take it," Will protested, but Jack was already heading up the stairs.

"You can fight over who gets to carry her stuff later," Quinn said dryly, giving you an apologetic glance that sent butterflies to your stomach. “The fire is already started.”

Sure enough there was a nice fire going in the backyard. A hodgepodge of lawn chairs and patio furniture surrounded it and you sat down on a comfy outdoor couch, Macklin plopping down right next to you. His arm slung behind you and you leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Long day?” He asked and you nodded.

“Had to tie up some last minute things at work and then of course saved all the packing for before the flight.”

“Sounds like you,” he teased and you rolled your eyes smiling.

“How’s it been here so far?” You asked.

“Fun, I missed the Hughes’ bros so it’s been good to catch up,” he told you. “The break will be good for us, especially Will.”

You looked over at Will, who was talking animatedly about something with Luke.

“I’ve been worried about him,” you admitted.

“Me too,” Macklin agreed. “He’ll figure it out.”

Quinn was watching you from across the fire, sipping his beer slowly, much to Jack’s amusement.

“Are you sure they aren’t in some weird throuple thing?” He finally asked, breaking the silence. Jack snorted, glancing over to you and Macklin.

“I promise you they aren’t,” he confirmed. “Just good friends.”

Quinn hummed noncommittally, taking another sip of his beer. His eyes hadn't left you since you'd arrived. There was something captivating about the way you fit so seamlessly into their group yet maintained a quiet authority over the rookies.

As the night progressed, you found yourself drifting between conversations. Luke was telling you about his latest game when Quinn finally approached, offering you another drink.

"Thanks," you said, accepting the cold beer from his hands. Your fingers brushed briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through you.

"So, player personnel," Quinn began, settling into the chair beside you. "That's an interesting role for someone so young."

You raised an eyebrow, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he backtracked. “Just thinking about how I would have enjoyed coming to the Canucks a little more if it was someone like you helping me versus a fifty year old man.”

“Someone like me?” You teased, grinning widely as the older brother blushed.

“You know what I mean,” he mumbled.

You laughed softly, taking a sip of your beer. “I do, actually. A lot of guys coming into the league are barely out of high school, moving across the country, or even from overseas. It helps to have someone who understands what that transition is like—who can be a little more... relatable.”

Quinn nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Makes sense. I remember my first year was a whirlwind. You must have your hands full with those two.” He nodded toward Macklin and Will, who were now arguing over the best way to roast a marshmallow.

“You have no idea,” you groaned playfully. “They’re like two overgrown puppies. They mean well, but I swear I spend half my time keeping them from doing something stupid.”

Quinn chuckled. “Sounds familiar. Jack and Luke were the same way growing up. Still are, honestly.”

You turned to face him more fully, intrigued. “So, does that make you the responsible one? The one who keeps everyone in check?”

He smirked, taking another sip of his beer. “I try, but Jack and Luke don’t listen to me half the time. I think they see me more as the grumpy older brother who ruins their fun.”

You tilted your head, considering him. “I don’t think you’re grumpy. More like... observant.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he looked away, watching the fire. “Maybe.”

You studied him for a moment. Quinn was quieter than his brothers, more reserved, but there was an undeniable warmth to him—something steady, reliable. You could see why Jack and Luke looked up to him, even if they didn’t always admit it.

“So,” Quinn said, breaking the silence. “What did you say about my edge work?”

Your cheeks immediately flushed, and you groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Oh my god, I knew Will was going to say something.”

Quinn’s smirk deepened. “I’m just curious. Professional observations, right?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Fine. I might have said it was some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Might have?”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, I did say that. Happy now?”

Quinn took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah. I think I am.”

The air between you felt charged for a split second before Macklin’s voice rang out, breaking the moment.

“Y/n! Come settle this for us. Who’s making the better s’more—me or Will?”

You turned to Quinn, laughing. “Duty calls.”

Quinn watched as you walked toward the rookies, effortlessly slipping back into your role as their unofficial big sister. Jack nudged him from the side, a knowing grin on his face.

“You’re screwed,” Jack muttered.

Quinn just hummed, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah. I think I am.”

The next morning, you woke up at sunrise, admiring the pretty sight from your window. Throwing a sweatshirt on, you headed down the stairs into the kitchen where you were surprised to see you weren’t the only one up.

“Morning,” Quinn greeted, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee.

“I’m shocked to see someone else up,” you greeted, amused. You moved around him to pour your own cup before turning back.

“My body is too used to early mornings, can’t sleep past 8 now,” he admitted and you nodded.

“I’m the same way,” you said. “Probably for the best though.”

You opened his fridge and stood there puzzled.

“What?” Quinn asked.

“You have literally no food,” you said, turning to him in confusion. He shrugged his shoulders.

“We order out a lot or just grill,” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Is there a grocery store nearby?” You asked.

“I think so,” he said.

“Okay let’s go,” you said, moving to find your shoes. Quinn chuckled but listened, grabbing his keys off the counter.

He followed you around the store amused, chiming in when you asked him for an opinion but mostly just admiring you.

“What were you going to eat on the boat today?” You asked, one hand on your hip as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Good question,” he replied with a grin and you rolled your eyes.

“Mr. Responsible my ass,” you muttered. He paid for the groceries and you helped him load them into the car before going back to the house.

Once you were back, the two of you worked in silence. You making lunches for the day while Quinn cooked eggs, sausage, and potatoes for when everyone else woke up.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of breakfast as you and Quinn worked side by side, falling into an easy rhythm. You'd occasionally brush against each other reaching for utensils or ingredients, each contact sending a small jolt through you that you tried to ignore.

"You're good at this," Quinn observed, watching as you efficiently packed sandwiches for everyone.

"Taking care of man-children? I've had plenty of practice," you replied with a smirk.

He laughed, a warm sound that made your stomach flutter. "I meant cooking, but fair point."

"My mom always said if you're going to do something, do it well," you explained, carefully wrapping each sandwich. "Even if it's just making lunch for a bunch of overgrown hockey players.”

Quinn's eyes lingered on you longer than necessary. "I think we have similar mothers."

The smell of breakfast eventually lured the others downstairs, one by one. Macklin was the first to appear, his hair sticking up in every direction.

"You're cooking?" he asked, eyes widening as he took in the sight of you and Quinn working side by side in the kitchen.

"Someone had to," you replied, shooting Quinn a playful glance. "Otherwise you'd all starve."

"Or survive on takeout," Quinn added.

Will stumbled in next, making a beeline for the coffee. "Y/n's cooking? Thank god."

"Actually, Quinn made breakfast," you corrected, nodding toward the spread of eggs and sausage. "I'm just prepping for the boat."

"Team effort," Quinn said quietly, and you felt a small flutter in your chest at his words.

By the time everyone was fed and the kitchen cleaned up, the sun was high and you had just changed into your swimsuit, throwing on an oversized tshirt as a coverup. You followed the boys down to the dock, laughing with Will about something. Nico and his girlfriend were doing something else for the day so it was just the six of you on the water.

Jack got in the driver’s seat and brought you all out to the middle of the lake before sitting idle. Macklin flipped off the boat into the water and you laughed as you watched him come back up.

“The water’s great, get in,” he called out to you and Will. You pulled off your tshirt, revealing the bright red bikini you had chosen for the day and Will whistled.

“For fuck’s sake,” Quinn muttered as his eyes took in your figure, lost in a trance. Jack gave him a knowing grin which he returned with his middle finger.

The day went by quickly and you had a lot of fun; it was nice to just relax and not think about work for once. As it was winding down, Jack got ready to drive back but beckoned you over.

“You want to drive?” He asked and you bit your lip.

“I don’t know how,” you admitted and he patted his lap for you to sit down. You could feel Quinn’s stare from across the boat.

“Sit,” he commanded and you smirked, settling onto his lap, your back into his chest.

“I know what you’re doing,” you told him, looking over your shoulder to Quinn.

Jack chuckled, his breath warm against your ear. "Just helping out a friend," he whispered, guiding your hands onto the steering wheel. "It's easy. Just keep it steady."

You couldn't help but glance back at Quinn again. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark as he watched Jack's hands over yours. There was something thrilling about his reaction, though you tried to push that thought away.

"Eyes forward," Jack instructed, giving Quinn a smug look over your shoulder.

You focused on steering, surprised by how much you enjoyed the feeling of control as the boat cut through the water. The wind whipped your hair around your face, and you couldn't hold back your laughter as Jack guided you through a slightly sharper turn.

When you finally docked, Quinn was the first off the boat, mumbling something about going to shower.

The guys wanted to go out that night so you quickly showered and changed into a pair of loose jeans with a black lace bodysuit. You curled your hair and applied a thin layer of makeup, relying on the tan that was already appearing on your face to do most of the work.

Will was waiting outside of your door when you came out and he frowned as he took in your outfit.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, suddenly self conscious but Will just rolled his eyes.

“What’s happening y/n? Are you going to fall in love with Quinn and leave us behind?” He complained and you barked out laughter.

“Nothing is happening Will,” you promised. “I’ll never leave you.”

You pinched your cheeks with your fingers and he swatted at your hands.

“You irritate me,” he grumbled.

“But you love me,” you cheered, following him down the stairs.

The bar was packed, buzzing with laughter and music as bodies pressed together in the dim glow of neon signs. You thrived in places like this—loud, chaotic, full of life. The second you stepped inside, you lit up, greeting people as if you'd known them forever. Quinn watched you, as he always did, lingering just close enough to keep an eye on you, but not close enough to draw attention to it.

“Drinks first, then dancing,” you declared, grabbing Luke’s arm and tugging him toward the bar. He groaned but didn’t resist, while Quinn followed a few steps behind, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

By the time you had a drink in hand, you were already scanning the crowd, eyes gleaming with mischief. A new song pulsed through the speakers, and you gasped. “Oh, this is my song! Luke, let’s go.”

Luke barely had time to react before you grabbed his wrist and dragged him toward the dance floor. “No, no, no—why me?” he protested, even as he stumbled after you.

“Because you’re fun, and I said so,” you shot back with a grin.

Quinn huffed a laugh into his beer as he leaned against a nearby pillar, watching as you seamlessly slipped into the rhythm of the song. You moved with an effortless confidence, laughing as Luke—reluctant at first—eventually gave in, mirroring your steps with exaggerated, playful movements. You twirled under his arm, your head thrown back in laughter, and Quinn felt something tighten in his chest.

"What are you staring at?" Jack's voice snapped Quinn out of his trance.

"Nothing," Quinn muttered, taking another swig of his beer.

Jack snorted. "Right. Absolutely nothing. That's why you haven't taken your eyes off her all night."

Quinn shot his brother a warning glance. "Drop it."

"All I'm saying is, she's single. And she clearly likes you," Jack said, nudging Quinn's shoulder. "I've never seen you this interested in someone."

"I'm not—" Quinn started, but stopped when he saw Macklin approach you on the dance floor, spinning you around effortlessly. The ease between you made something twist in his stomach.

"She's their friend," Quinn said finally. "It would be weird."

"Or," Jack countered, "it would be perfect. She already knows the hockey life. She puts up with the two of them all the time.”

“You seem to be forgetting the fact that I live in Vancouver and she lives in San Jose,” Quinn said sharply and Jack took a deep breath.

“True,” he admitted, not knowing what else to say.

An hour later you were beat, and desperate to go home. Unfortunately that sentiment wasn’t shared by the others.

“Just stay a little longer,” Luke begged, and you shook your head, a small smirk on your face.

“I’ll be fine to walk home, my social battery is just drained,” you told him. Quinn appeared behind you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re not walking home by yourself,” he said firmly and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll be fine,” you argued but he stood strong.

“I’ll come with you, just let me close my tab,” he said. You started to complain but he was already pulling you along. The two of you set out back to the house in silence, him caught up in his head about what Jack had said earlier. You were in the same boat, trying to figure out your budding feelings for someone you felt like you couldn’t have.

“Are you tired?” He asked once you reached the house.

“Not really, just tired of talking,” you admitted and he gave you a small smile.

“Movie?” He suggested. You agreed and went off to change into something more comfy before joining him in the living room. You sat a healthy distance apart while he put on a Marvel movie, per your request. Halfway through he looked over to see you with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Cold?” He asked and you tore your gaze away from the screen to meet his.

“A little.”

He reached down to grab a blanket from the basket next to the couch and threw it over himself, patting the spot next to him.

You hesitated for a moment before sliding closer, allowing Quinn to drape the blanket over both of you. The warmth of his body next to yours was immediate and comforting.

"Better?" he asked, his voice lower than before.

"Much," you murmured, trying not to focus on how your thigh was now pressed against his.

As the movie continued, you found yourself gradually relaxing, your body naturally leaning closer to Quinn's. You weren't sure if it was the couple of drinks you'd had or the late hour, but something about sitting here with him felt right in a way you hadn't expected.

When your head eventually dropped onto his shoulder, he tensed for just a second before carefully adjusting his position to make you more comfortable. His arm came around you hesitantly, and when you didn't pull away, he let it rest there.

"This okay?" he whispered.

You nodded sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open. When the credits finally rolled, neither of you made a move to get up. You were drifting off and Quinn was just enjoying the silence. That was shortlived as the rest of the guys got back from the bar, amused at the scene in front of them.

“Good movie huh?” Jack teased and you buried your head into Quinn’s chest in embarrassment. His arm was still hung around you

"I should go to bed," you mumbled against Quinn's shirt, feeling the rumble of his chuckle vibrate through his chest.

"Probably a good idea," he agreed softly, though his arm remained firmly around you.

Will and Macklin exchanged knowing glances, while Jack made a dramatic show of yawning and stretching. "Well, we'll just head upstairs then. Goodnight, you two."

You reluctantly pulled away from Quinn's warmth, avoiding his eyes as you stood. "Thanks for walking me home. And for the movie."

"Anytime," he replied, his voice a little rougher than usual.

You could feel his gaze following you as you headed up the stairs, and it took every ounce of willpower not to look back.

The next couple of days were filled with you and Quinn dancing around each other, nothing ever happening. As the evening of your last night approached part of you was disappointed but another part was relieved. You didn’t need to get attached.

The plan for the night was to grill out and Quinn manned the grill while you got the rest of the food set up. You were next to him with a plate for him to pile the burgers on when Will came bouncing over.

“We should set off fireworks,” he suggested, excitedly.

“No,” you and Quinn both said at the same time.

“Fine mom and dad,” he grumbled before stalking off. His words made you catch your breath and you avoided Quinn’s stare from next to you.

“We do look a little domestic,” he finally said and you giggled. You spent most of the evening with Will and Macklin who were already pre-depressed that you were leaving tomorrow.

"I'm not even gone yet," you laughed as Macklin dramatically draped himself across your lap on the patio furniture.

"But tomorrow you will be, and then we'll have to go back to San Jose, and you'll be all professional again," he whined.

"I'm always professional," you protested, though the words rang hollow even to your own ears. The truth was, you'd let your guard down here—with Will and Macklin, but especially with Quinn.

"You know what I mean," Will said, sitting on your other side. "No more movie nights, no more beach days. Just you telling us to tie our ties properly and reminding us about media training."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the fondness that washed over you. "We still hang out all the time.. Just... with fewer Hughes brothers around."

Your eyes drifted to Quinn, who was cleaning the grill.

“Yeah too bad for you,” Macklin teased and you blushed making Will laugh.

“She’s got it bad,” he sang. You pushed the boys off, shooting them the finger before walking over to where Quinn was.

“Need help?” You asked. He smiled at your question before shaking his head.

“Nah, I’m finished,” he told you. “Sit with me?”

You followed him to the opposite side of where your two gremlins were, in a more private area. Quinn sat down in a lawn chair and you started to sit next to him but he tugged at your hand, pulling you down into his lap.

You froze for a moment, surprised by his boldness, but then settled against him, your body fitting perfectly against his. The small fire pit in front of you cast a warm glow across your faces as Quinn's arms wrapped loosely around your waist.

"I've been wanting to do this all week," he admitted quietly, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned slightly to look at him, your faces now inches apart. "What stopped you?"

Quinn sighed, his thumb absently tracing circles on your hip. "A lot of things. The distance, for one. My brother being the one who introduced us. Those two over there being attached to you like barnacles," he nodded toward Will and Macklin, who were now engaged in what appeared to be a marshmallow-eating contest.

You laughed softly. "They are pretty clingy."

"I don't blame them," Quinn murmured. “This is selfish because I know you have to leave tomorrow but I just wanted to touch you at least once.”

“I’m glad you did,” you whispered,

Quinn's hand moved to your chin, tilting your face toward his. "Yeah?"

You nodded, barely breathing as he leaned closer. "Yeah."

His lips brushed against yours, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as you responded. You shifted in his lap to face him and he deepened the kiss, his mouth moving along yours softly. The two of you were in your own world, caught up in only each other.

After a bit you pulled away, staring deeply into his eyes before sighing.

“What’s wrong angel?” He asked and you gave him a sad smile.

“I like you Quinn,” you admitted,

“And that makes you sad?” He teased and you let out a short laugh.

“I’m sad because there isn’t anything we can do about it,” you said and he didn’t say anything for a bit before pressing his lips against your forehead.

“I know.”

pt. 2 here

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl imagine

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puppetwoman17 · 1 year ago

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Headcanon that the bats are the only people in Gotham who don’t know about Joker Junior.

The only people who know JJ’s identity are Bruce, Barbara, Jim Gordon, Joker himself, and Harley Quinn. Tim made Bruce promise not to tell Dick, and that continued when Jason came back, with him not wanting to be one of the older man’s triggers. The trend followed with Duke, Cass, Steph, and Damian, with him being more and more certain that if he told them, they would hate him.

Nothing lasts forever, though, and the batkids soon notice how differently Gotham treats Red Robin.

Rogues like Riddler, Harley, and Poison Ivy refrain from hurting him too much. Seasoned thugs quickly take away any electrocution devices from the newer ones, stating that “we don’t electrocute Red Robin”. When it comes to RR, Gotham’s citizens can get very peeved with the Bat.

The kids also notice the odd closeness between Jim, Babs, and Tim. Hell, there are times where they invite the older man to dinner and he goes off to whisper with Tim. The one time someone tried to subtly follow them, Babs stopped them in their tracks.

Everything comes to ahead when Dick goes deep into the bat computer archives for a case he assumes is tied to another. And lo and behold, he finds something titled Junior. He assumes that this is about a child villain and is curious, as the date tells him this happened while he was off in Bludhaven so many years ago.

It’s not.

He calls in the other bats(Tim is somewhere else) and they read through the files and watch the videos. God, the videos.

Dick is angry. Him and his siblings are fuming. Everything comes together and makes so much sense.

How some Gotham citizens treat RR differently. How Jim Gordon always makes sure RR is okay. How Babs knows how to calm Tim down better than anyone else. How Bruce always looks so guilty when he looks at Tim, a scarily similar look as the one he gives to Jason.

Their brother had been keepinh this secret for years, probably because he didn’t want them to hate them(Jason shakes his head furiously. “Stupid kid”.)

When Tim comes home, lo and behold with Babs, he immediately clocks onto their thoughts and makes a break for it. Babs blocks the door for everyone else. She says nothing.

Thats as far as I got.

#tim drake #joker junior #batman the animated series #red robin #batfamily #nightwing #Batman #red hood #Robin #black bat #oracle #spoiler #harley quinn

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softsunnyy · 2 months ago

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Kinnie with the Canucks ! ♡

you're filming a silly trend, a "mini-blog" of your son going to a Canucks game to watch his dad play. But seeing him so happy makes you think, and all you can focus on is him.

i started writing this a while ago and just remembered i never finished it, so here it is. Btw, the nickname is a short way of saying "pumpkin", bc i love that nickname and i already thought of a whole reason behind it. Also, i was inspired by this and this video + i was listening to "Love Story" while finishing it

i can make this a series if y´all want.

from the moment your little one got mic'd up, he started babbling and trying to narrate as best he could. And to make him feel more comfortable, they asked you to be the one recording him. So the boy constantly looks at you, talking about how excited he is to see his dad play.

now, this isn't strange or new to him; in fact, it's quite common. But it's always a new experience, and you know that Quinn's little copy idolizes him more than anything in this world, and he experiences every game as if it were Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final.

you unconsciously smile at how easily he talks about the place, showing the spectators around, the outside of the locker room, everything, and then makes his way to his special seat, near the glass, where he can watch the game up close.

“dad’s coming out any minute, we’ll see if i can get a puck,” he said, mouthing the words in a funny way, his cheeks flushed, his smile exactly like Quinn’s. Behind the camera, your heart melts once again, knowing your husband would give him every puck and every stick in the game if his little one asked.

you hear him talk, but all you can look at is him. His hair, his cheeks, his smile. His sweet chuckle, and the way he moves his head when he talks. The way now his big and bright eyes focus on the rink instead of the camera.

you used to jokingly comment about how you spent months carrying him for him to end up being an exact copy of Quinn. But it’s true. And he’s more than happy and proud to look just like him.

when your little one first became interested in hockey, you should have seen it coming. Of course he wants to play defense. Of course he wants to be the best.

he’s fast, he’s very agile. And everyone knows what he wants.

“i wanna play like dad when i grow up. He’s so cool,” he smiled. And at that moment, the players came out for warmups. Your little boy sat on the edge of his seat, more attentive than ever, and Quinn was quick to find you, quickly going to the glass, hitting it with his stick, smiling when his son laughed, tapping the glass with one of his little hands.

Quinn didn’t even have to hear the question; he immediately went to get a puck, tossing it over the glass, and you had to be careful, catching it and passing it to your son, trying to capture the moment without moving the camera too much.

you hear a few people around you making “aww” sounds, watching the moment when mini Hughes smiles, his face lighting up even more.

he’s like a little fan, even though he sees his dad almost every day, and when Quinn is away, they spend hours talking on facetime, no matter how tired both are.

and no matter how much time passes, you know he'll still be this obsessed.

as the game progresses, he starts yapping and just talking, talking about how good his dad is, how he's the star of the team, and how much he loves his uncles, Quinn's friends. You smile, listening and trying to pay attention to the plays. You know it was originally meant to be a mini-blog, something they could post on tiktok for the Canucks' account, but you can't tell him to stop, or just cut the recording. Not when he's talking so happily, so excitedly, melting your heart. You know this should be seen, that everyone should get this dose of cuteness, even if it's a thousand-hour video.

and when it's Quinn who scores a goal? oh god, he screams and jumps, and you're sure he's the loudest. The people around congratulate him, knowing who he is, and making his smile even bigger, to the point where his cheeks cramp and his eyes are barely visible.

your heart aches; you wanna see him this happy forever, because it's all he deserves. And you love that it's Quinn who brings all of that to him, because it happens to you too. From the moment you met him, he's always been the first to make you smile, to be there for you every moment, to make you feel safe and increasingly confident. Quinn has always been your sunshine, and it feels right that he also is for your son, the fruit of your intense love for each other.

after the game, you walk behind him, who takes short, quick steps, trying to reach the locker room and see his dad. As the others leave, they pat him on the head, then wave to you and the camera. Happy with this victory.

when Quinn comes out of the locker room, he barely manages to bend down, reaching his son's level just as he throws himself into his arms. You see them laugh, do a little spin, and you know that all of that can be heard in the video through the microphone. Joy and love, in their purest and most beautiful state.

“hi, Kinnie,” your husband laughed, saying one of his son’s many nicknames, securing him in his arms before walking over to you, giving you a small peck. “Hi.”

“hi, dad,” your son replied. Then Quinn noticed the camera, and you paused for a moment to explain, watching him nod before looking down at his tiny copy. “Did you enjoy the game? i think mom recorded you yapping.”

“i was paying attention! i was just telling ´hem about the game,” he tried to defend himself, slightly blushing. “Mommy wasn’t even paying attention,” he said this time, making you both laugh.

when the video was posted, everyone was asking for the extended version, knowing that the video had been edited to fit on tiktok, so soon everyone could enjoy the full version on youtube as well.

thousands of comments talking about how mini Hughes inherited his dad's yapping, or how similar they are, and how loved he is.

and even though you try not to expose him too much on social media, videos of him in his little-games sometimes go viral, because of the way he skates, perfecting skills that many kids his age can't do yet; or videos of him "training" in the summer with his dad, his uncles, and his grandparents, in a family full of success, talent, and love.

everyone knows that little Hughes is the most loved, and that his future is bright, surrounded by people who will help him become a star. They even talk about how he'll be better than Quinn.

and you love it, you love knowing that he´s loved, that he's supported. You love knowing that you chose the perfect man, and that he gave you the ideal family. Because the bad days don't matter when the day ends and you all cuddle on the couch again. Because the good days will remain in your memories for years.

because no one will love you both the way Quinn does, and no one will love him the way you two love him.

and the internet is here to see that.

#☀️💞#softsunnyy #quinn hughes #dad!quinn #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #qh43 x reader #qh43

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ruinix · 3 months ago

Note

Thinking about Quinn losing his shit after you surprise him with a tattoo of his number on your hip

Hello, lovely… I tried, of course. Let me preface this, let’s imagine the tattoo healed for exactly 2 weeks (google says: the minimum healing time of the (surface) skin is about 2-4 weeks, deeper layers heal for approx. 3-4 months)...so yes. What i wanna say is: Be safe. Hope you enjoy 😌 [Disclaimer: I made Q drink tea here when he doesn't drink tea or coffee 😔]

Breakfast & Tattoos

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Unprotected sex (use protection, silly), Tattoo healing inaccuracy (let it heal pls), Quinn being a literal Horny one

Count: 3544 words | Masterlist | Taglist

You have that grin. A silly and mischievous grin. Quinn cautiously takes a sip of tea you brewed for him—you might’ve put something in it—but it’s just tea.

He greets you, receiving an immediate response. The grin never wavers even as he cooks you two breakfast. You’re…suspicious. Pretty with your comfy pajama shorts and—his—hoodie but suspicious.

He tries to let you be. Maybe you’ll drop it. Maybe you’ll just outright tease him for his bedhead, because his waves are all over the place from sleeping like dead after a two-week road trip. Maybe you just want to tell him something silly. Maybe. You always tend to do those things. He likes that.

He wants to ask, but you move to the sofa with your iPad, humming a tune. You’re on your back with your legs up an arm rest, feet covered with fluffy socks with strawberries. Still, you throw glances at him, grinning whenever he meets your gaze. He hears the upbeat sound of a game. You definitely found another game. That must be it. You love your games especially on that specific iPad—that was his, now yours—with those stickers of him.

Stickers. They’re cute, but he can’t help the blush on his face whenever he sees them. You’ve never stopped buying stickers from Etsy or from artists on different social media. Of him. It doesn’t matter if it’s memes or little cute cartoons. It’s just him. He knows your little hoarding box where you put your spares which also got their own spares—spare of a spare, you describe them.

It’s adorable but the way he looks so haunted in some of them... He can’t help it. It’s his face.

It’s funny and a bit embarrassing—in a good way

But he never feels bad about it. Not when you cherish every sticker. Not when you are so giddy and filled with excitement every time you buy one. Not when he catches you just gazing at them before hugging it so tightly.

Quinn has to turn away. His cheeks are burning. You make him feel good even through cute little stickers.

Sighing, Quinn finishes up with breakfast. He takes the plates to the coffee table, jumping when you suddenly sit up. You give him a fat smooch on the cheek before you mutter about getting him more tea and your coffee. But, fuck, his cheek burns from your touch. The kiss is soft and quick, but it seeps down to his bones, down to his… It’s way too early to be horny.

Quinn shakes his head, trying his best to clear it. However, he catches your shorts glide up your thighs when you bend over to get something from the lower cabinets. Oh, he’s fucked. It’s not helping how he notices your lace panties imprinting through your shorts.

Somebody, help him.

He looks away, counting down from ten to one, up from one to ten. He’s hard. It’s fucking eight in the morning. What the fuck is wrong with him? He closes his eyes for a second, thinking about hockey, practice, and literally anything else. He fails. His mind keeps showing him the image your ass, grinding against him as he fucked you—

“I think I want some orange juice right now,” he forces out, planting one foot up to hide his erection. He needs something to cool him down.

“mm’kay!” Your sweet voice just made him painfully harder.

“Thanks,” he coughs out. “Maybe a couple of ice?”

“Anything for my Quinny,” you say in a singsong voice, then you start humming a tune, moving your hips with it.

Fuck.

Quinn might need to lock himself in the bathroom at this point. You’re not letting him catch a break. How can he not get turned on after not having his fill of you for two weeks? He can see the jiggle of your ass. He can see your pebbled nipples through your thin and cropped shirt, because you just got rid of your hoodie. Why did you get rid of it? The air conditioning is literally on.

Thank fuck he’s wearing his boxer and his black sweatpants. There would be a dark patch there, because he’s leaking pre-cum. He might even come right there if you don’t stop—

“You want the one with pulp?” you ask, weight in one leg, while holding two orange juice cartons.

“Any,” he barely says, catching a glimpse of something peeking out the waistband of your shorts—what exactly is it, he doesn’t know—but you quickly turn away, bending over again which distracts him. “You slept good when I wasn’t here?” Quin pathetically asks, trying to shake away his hard-on away by pure will—it’s not working.

“Yep,” you gleefully say, finally finishing your instant coffee.

Quinn makes a mental note to make your usual brewed coffee later. He can’t just let you with a cup of instant coffee throughout the day. That’s not okay. His sweet girl deserves the best after all.

Well, after he cools the fuck down.

He settles on the floor, snatching the fleece blanket from the couch to cover himself. He swallows a groan when you slide into the same blanket, leaning against him. Your heat only seeps down his cock more than his shoulder. You are killing him.

He stiffly drinks his juice, shuddering when you kiss his cheek again. He almost doesn’t kiss your cheek too, because he’s a hair away from losing control. But he still does. He gives your cheek a peck. He wishes to kiss you deeper, bend you over the coffee table and just fuck you. He knows you’ll agree if he asks. He knows you’ll let him have his way with you.

He knows.

But he hears your tummy rumble.

He can’t fuck you when you’re hungry. You’ll need energy. Besides, it’s fucking 8AM. He’s so close to punching himself as a reprimand. No one should be this horny this early. That sounds hypocritic, because he remembers several times where he waited for you to wake up so he could fuck you sideways, kissing you through your just-woken-up haze.

Someone needs to bash his head until he gets amnesia.

He’s digging himself a deeper grave. Seriously.

Quinn focuses on breakfast. He loves breakfast with you. He loves it when your weight is partially on him. When you take sips of your coffee, urging him to drink his own beverage. When you talk about what you’ll be doing for work or for your day offs. When you snatch some of his eggs and replace with potatoes or the other way around, because wanting more of one depends on the day. Today, you are doing the latter. All while, you grin at him with so many things brewing in your eyes.

He finally says, when you two are almost done with breakfast, “Okay, you are acting suspicious.” He narrows his eyes just a tad. “What are you planning?”

You turn and hug him from his side.

Quinn expertly holds you without you getting on his cock. It’s so hard. Especially when you shimmy to get more comfortable over his thigh. He almost starts pleading for you to move and get off him, because you’re so near.

“I have a surprise for you.”

A surprise? He blinks, repeating the word over and over in his head. For him? You have a surprise for him? Excitement courses through his body, temporarily distracting him from his aching member. He likes your gifts. He feels special whenever you give him something. It doesn’t matter what it is. Cookies, shirts, chocolates, a piece of candy. Even if it’s a kiss. Especially if it is. Speaking of a kiss, he wants to kiss you right now.

And he’s back to being a horny fucker.

He can’t help it. Your lips look so delicious, so damn kissable. When you run your tongue over your lower lip, biting it after, he’s done. He kisses you. Languidly. Unhurried in any way. The best thing about kissing you is you kissing back with the same intensity. When he deepens the kiss, tongue sliding past your lips, you are ready for him. You taste like your coffee and it’s perfect.

He missed this while he was away. He doesn’t know how he survived last night with a simple kiss to your forehead. He’s a fucking idiot. He missed out. Not that kissing your forehead is less than your kiss. No. Never. Just kissing your skin makes his heart ache. Just feeling your warmth is enough.

However, kissing your lips while breathing in your exhales, your moans, and your groans, that’s one way to live. If only he can exist with your air. If he can only kiss you every second of his life. If only.

When he parts from you, he feels your chasing lips as his. You two want so much more than a kiss. It’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Still, he must know what your surprise is. He needs it.

“A surprise, huh?” he murmurs, getting distracted by the flush on your cheeks. Wow. Just…wow. “Surprise for what?”

“I don’t need a reason to surprise my boyfriend.” Your nose scrunches, clearly and teasingly dissatisfied with his stupid question.

He can’t help but grab your cheeks, chuckling when you pout for good measure. When he caresses his thumbs over your skin, it makes you relax further into him. Your lips are red from the kiss. So plump. So wet from each other’s saliva. If he kisses you again, right now, he might end up just coming in his pants. Later. In a bit.

He coaxes, “What is it?”

You’ve hypnotized him when you drag your nail over his jaw and kiss along it. He can only cling to your waist. A whine left his lips when you let go. Where the fuck are you going? You can’t just leave him—

“Close your eyes,” you say, putting a halt to his thoughts. There’s that devilish gleam again, yet you add, “Please?”

You don’t need to say please. Quinn closes his eyes, immediately hearing the clatter of dishes and mugs being taken away. His hands curl into fists, turning irritated. You don’t need to clean up for him. He can do it, but he keeps his eyes closed, not wanting to betray your wishes. You are surprising him. He’ll be an idiot if he tries to sour the mood. But he dislikes it. If you’re going to do the dishes, he’ll do it with you. He doesn’t like not doing things with you, especially when it’s the regular season. He’s always away. It’s exhausting but you make it better.

One moment he’s horny. The next he’s acting pathetic.

“You’re overthinking, Quinn.” Your gentle voice hums, easing his troubled soul.

He feels and hears you sit down in front of him. On the coffee table. He fucking shivers when your feet brush the outside of his thighs. No blanket can mask your warmth, your touch. He can feel your eyes running all over him. His face. His neck. His hair. His chest. His cock. He really, really, really might fucking come.

He can hear your shaky inhale. You finally notice. Your voice turns higher, “Come closer.”

He does it. It’s more of moving the low table rather than scooting closer. Oh, the tiny squeak that you let out is adorable. You always forget that he’s strong. You’ve admitted that to him, that he looks small on ice, that he’s cute. He couldn’t blame you. He is just 5-foot-10 around people who are 6-feet and taller. You told him he looked like he wouldn’t be able to lift you. So, Quinn learned to remind you that he can lift you and more.

Now, his mind pesters with image of you against the wall, legs around his waist while he fucks you hard. That’s his favorite way to prove it—Can he fucking stop? Seriously?

He feels your touch over his shoulders, thumb rubbing into his muscles, up his neck, up his jaw. Soon, you have your forehead against his. Quinn’s trying to feel the table any clues about your surprise. So far, he hasn’t found any. He’s so curious. Just what is it?

“Open your eyes for me, handsome.”

Quinn does. He instantly gets mesmerized by your eyes, the eyelashes delicately framing them, your blinks. You’re just beautiful. He won’t have any complaints if this is your surprise. A simple eye-to-eye contact minute with you. Now that’s an amazing gift. Because now, he sees the details of your eyes—the darker and lighter specks of your color and the impossibly wide pupils.

“I love it,” he says with satisfaction.

You laugh, blushing so hard. “You’re silly.” You kiss the tip of his nose, taking his hands to plant it around your waist. “Look down…”

Again, he does. He gazes at every inch of you like he hasn’t. He can’t help but feel your breasts, thumb swirling over your nipples that were begging to be seen and touched and freed from your shirt. After hearing you moan and making your back arch into his touch, he moves on, smirking when you grumble about your need. Later.

He teases your skin, your navel. He’s so lost seeing how you tremble, hips slightly moving and trying to create friction. He bet you’re soaking through your pretty panties—

Quinn stills the moment he catches something on your skin. On your hipbone. What the fuck. What the fuck is that?

His heart hammers against his chest as he hooks a thumb into your shorts and tugs down.

Holy shit.

No matter how much he blinks it doesn’t change.

A tattoo. A fucking tattoo on your left hip.

‘QH43’, it says.

Quinn is literally felt his stomach flutter with fucking butterflies, thumb subbing over it, trying to see if it’s temporary, but it doesn’t have a shine nor does it crack.

He should be worried. It must’ve fucking hurt. It’s over a bone. He should shake you and ask if you got caught up in a dare. He should be livid you kept this from him. Tattoos are big decisions. You always confide in him for big decisions. You didn’t have this when he left for the road trip. It looks healed. He should’ve been with you and helped you take care of it. Damn it.

Yet, the more he looks at it, the more desire courses through his veins. It melts his worries.

It’s just ink in your skin. Ink in your blood. His fucking initials and numbers on you. Permanently. Forever.

QH43. Just four characters in a normal script. So simple yet it’s enough to get him all shaken up.

“Why?” He asks, taking a hand into his cock. He looks up to your eyes, except you aren’t looking at him. You’re staring at what he’s doing with a blush on your face like you haven’t seen him jerk off, haven’t seen his dick in your pussy. You’re cute.

“Because I want it.”

“It’s bad to have your boyfriend’s name tattooed on your person.” Quinn wants to smack himself for saying that, because he likes it.

“Good thing it’s his number.” You crossed your arms, smirking and unfazed. “Besides, my boyfriend will never leave me. He promised me all the time.”

“Yes. I will never leave you.” He nods, moaning when you put a hand over his cheek. “’m so turned on.”

“I can see that.” Your nails scratch over his jaw again.

He’s losing it. “Did it hurt?”

“It stung but not too much. Want help?”

Quinn shakes his head. He needs an initial relief. His hand will do. For now. He can’t help but preen as you snatch away the blanket. Sweat starts to bead on his skin as he nudges his pants down, tightly gripping and working his cock. Fuck.

“Wanna cum on it?” You ask, your voice shaking as you pant. You lean back, planting your hands on the table, spreading your thighs wide, showing him the wet patch over your thin shorts. You’re evil for that.

Quinn doesn’t know he can get any harder, but he does. Especially when he can basically smell you, taste you through it. He missed this so much. An ache forms in his chest for missing out, for not being with you.

“Is that safe?” Quinn moans, swiping a thumb over his slit, shivering as his pre-cum dribbles down his length. Totally forgetting how he was rubbing it a minute ago, he gasps, “Don’t want it to hurt.”

“It’s healed,” you reassure. “Ugh, I hate my panties. They’re so wet.”

See, you’re really complaining. The annoyance is clear on your face, but it’s cute as fuck. You shimmy your shorts and panties down, shivering when your arousal creates a string from the lace to your pussy. You still sit at the table, waiting for him to come on you.

“You’re killing me, my Love.” Quinn crawls up to his knees. “All wet for me?”

“Yeah.” Then you slide one hand over your pussy, parting it for him, making him see you quivering hole. “You really like my tattoo?”

Quinn can only nod. There’s a lump in his throat. He’s panting as he chases his relief. The way your pussy drip is getting to his head. Fuck, why is he still jerking off when your pussy is right there? He scoots closer, sliding his cock along your pussy. Both of you groan. You feel so good and he’s not even inside.

“Quinn,” you gulp, hands coming up his shoulder. “Maybe. You can jerk off later? I’m right here. I need you, handsome.”

He feels your pain and he feels the same. He presses his dick in your entrance. He warns, “I’m going to come soon.”

“Yes, please.”

Something snaps.

It’s his control.

You really know how to make him lose it. Those two fucking words. It might as well be a prophecy. He will listen and make it happen rather than wait for it to come true.

One smooth movement, he’s inside. His eyes nearly roll up as your pussy squeezes around him, seemingly determined to milk his cum out. By some miracle, he doesn’t come right away. He doesn’t it matters he did. He fucks you with urgency.

You feel divine. Your pussy. Your heated skin. Your arms that slot over his shoulders, urging him to fuck you faster. Your long nails dragging red stripes down his nape and back. Pain and pleasure sears down his soul.

“Quinn,” you call, tugging at his hair.

He moans your name like a prayer just for you. For his Love eternal. Fuck, he deeply loves you so much that it. More than anything in this world. You are the light of his life. Light, not a flame that would burn him. A light makes everything clear and visible. He’ll never get lost with you by his side. Lost in you, now, that’s a different topic.

He catches sight of a sweat dripping down from your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, to your collarbones. He’s there, licking it up from its destination and up your jaw. Fuck, your taste—the saltiness, your scent on his tongue—is alluring.

Your moans mix with his, drowning out the buzz of the air-conditioning, the slight creaking of the coffee table, the ringing of his fucking phone. Who the fuck is calling him this early in the morning? It doesn’t matter. Not important right now. No.

Your hands cling to his arms, nails digging deep crescents into his skin. When his thumb circles your clit, he feels your pussy walls contract and pulse, making him come deep inside you. One spurt. Two. Three. Then he pulls out, so he spills right over your tattoo. You both pant, watching his cum make a mess on your skin, watching the cum dripping down your used pussy.

Your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing him fucking dry, making sure every drop is on your skin, your hips, and your thighs. He can’t help but gasp, forehead resting against yours.

He can’t believe he got you to come before him when he was so close to the edge.

So happy that you did.

So fucking ecstatic that he starts rubbing his cum into your skin, swiping its thickness into your damn tattoo, making sure it’s thoroughly coated. This is what you wanted. He also fucking wants it. His other hand travels to your pussy to push his cum back in. Your thighs quiver, shaking. Your moans and whines are loud and clear in his ears.

Fuck, he’s still so hard.

And you know it. How can you not? You’re holding him. It’s so evident that he’s ready for more.

You meet his eyes as you pant. Your lips are so red from being bitten. Quinn reaches up, taking his pushing his thumb slicked with his cum in your lips. When you immediately lick and suck on it, he can’t stop himself from grinding on your pussy. You’re just as greedy as him.

He loves that and he needs to fuck you again.

“Another?” he pleads.

“Yes,” you murmur, kissing his thumb. “Please.”

You don’t need to say anything else.

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luviangelgirl · 26 days ago

Text

Loving You

Quinn Hughes x reader ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･

Description ⋆˚✿˖° 3 ways Quinn Hughes shows you that he loves you.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ Notes, I LOVE QUINN HUGHES, also this isn’t edited lol

1 ❀˖° Never failing to give you a good morning kiss, even if he’s running late.

The alarm rings an hour to six. He spends 10 minutes staring up at the ceiling, trying to gain some consciousness. Then he shifts his eyes to you, who is currently laying on his chest, your warmth so comforting. He dreads that when he gets up, he’ll most likely disturb your sleep by taking his warmth away. However, those thoughts are pushed away while he admires you.

He thinks you’re the most beautiful human on earth. Even when you have drool on the side of your mouth and you’re leaving a little on his sleeping shirt. He knows if you were awake, you’d push yourself from him immediately. A little embarrassed from the drool, probably even from your messy hair, too. But Quinn thinks you’re gorgeous always, no drool or messy hair can ever change that.

It seems he admires your beauty for a long time because before he knows it, his 5:30 alarm starts ringing. This immediately pushes him to get ready, as he needs to be on the way by 5:50 to make it on time.

He manages to get up without disturbing you, which he’s very grateful for. Before leaving the bed, Quinn makes sure to cover you with the sheets, to maintain that warmth. In 20 minutes, he manages to brush his teeth and take a quick shower.

Now, it’s 5:50 and he’s ready, barely, but nonetheless, ready. And really, even though he should’ve been out the door a couple minutes ago, that doesn’t stop him from walking back into your shared bedroom and admiring you once again.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he whispers into the calm, comforting bedroom. You’re still asleep, thankfully. He would never wish to disturb your sleep. Quinn leans down and softly presses a kiss on your forehead. He whispers again, “I’ll miss you, darling.” And he smiles when he hears you let out a soft mumble, almost as if you’re saying you’ll miss him too.

You have him in a loving trance, the only thing breaking him from it being the text from Rick:

Rick: You better be in the parking garage, Hughes. If not, get ready for some drills.

Sent at 6:56

Once again, he finds himself sighing while realizing the consequences of actions. Still, no matter how many lectures he receives from Rick, he will continue to take his time admiring you and kissing you. No amount of drills can ruin his day either. If he can start his day next to you, everything else is fine: the lectures from Rick, the drills, the teasing and complaining from his teammates. You make everything worth it.

“I love you, Angel, I’ll see you later.” Quinn says before leaving the bedroom and finally making his way to practice.

2 ❀˖° Reading together

A lot of people would never imagine Quinn Hughes to be a reader. The young hockey-player who thinks hockey 24/7? It definitely raised a few eyebrows of surprise. Still, Quinn Hughes loves to read. He loves diving into a story and learning about all sorts of nonfiction. Reading helps him unwind.

That’s what it is to him. Unwinding. Forgetting about all his responsibilities for a moment by focusing on a good book.

Quinn was very quiet about this hobby of his, not because he was embarrassed but because he was a quiet man who simply never shared too much of his life.

Before you came into his life, he never had anyone to discuss his readings with. I mean he had Jack, but with his brother living 3,000 miles away from him, the time spent catching up was definitely not about reading. Sure, he’d drop a thought like, “I started reading this new book a few days ago,” but that was really it, never anything further.

When he first started getting to know you, he quickly learned that you were a big reader. As a teen, you loved the twilight series, which helped grow your love for romance novels. Though, you didn’t only love romance novels, your taste ranged from romance to fantasy to nonfiction. All types of books.

You also loved reading. You used it as a way to calm and relax your mind.

So when you and Quinn came together, bonding over reading occurred.

One of Quinn’s favorite things to do after a stressful weekend is to lay in bed with you, both focused on your books. He liked spending this time with you, knowing you both get some pleasure from it.

He loves that he can relate to you in this way, your shared love for books.

You both try to finish your books at the same time. Every time you finish a book, you have a shared discussion, discussing if you liked the book, as well as all your favorite topics, scenes, and characters.

“Are you almost done, Baby?”

“Yes, Quinny, I need like one more chapter.”

“Ok, me too.”

Sometimes you’ll even switch books after reading. However, that usually occurs when you’re both reading either a nonfiction or science fiction book due to Quinn refusing to read anything but that.

Quinn knows that no matter what his hobbies are, you love him entirely. But your shared hobby of reading makes you both feel closer . You love hearing each other's thoughts on books. He loves seeing the way your eyes light up when you talk about your favorite part of a book.

Quinn and you love that you both share something that brings you joy and relaxation. The way you don’t even need to be talking to bond over something.

You love that Quinn loves you so much, he allows you to join in on his reading time.

You love Quinn and all his hobbies, but reading makes you feel indefinitely close to him.

Quinn turns his eyes from his book, locking them onto your body lying beside his, “I love spending time with you like this. I love every moment spent with you but this feels special.”

Your focus is shifted from your book and onto the love of your life, “I know, baby, I love it too. It does feel special, it’s like our own personal time.”

“You’re the only person who I can unwind like this with.”

“Really? What about Jack?”

“Can’t unwind with him, talks too much,” Quinn says with a grin on his face.

“I guess that makes me special then,” you reply.

“The specialist, everything a man could ever dream of.”

You chuckle, “I love you, Quinny. I love reading with you and discussing after. I love that we can spend our time loving books together. You’re my favorite person to do it with.”

“I’m only your favorite when reading books?” Quinn teases.

“You’re my favorite person on earth, my favorite person to do anything with.”

“You’re my favorite person too. I love you, Baby.”

“I love you too, now focus on your book or else I’ll be finishing first.”

“Not if I finish first.”

“You won’t.” You reply with a smile on your face.

Quinn loves every moment with you, but reading makes you both feel impossibly close and loved.

3 ❀˖° Holding your hand always

Quinn Hughes was not the biggest fan on PDA. He’s a reserved man, who likes to keep his personal relationships private. Well, that’s what he thought… prior to being with you. You, the one who he always wants to be touching. Obviously, he won’t make out with you in public. No. That’s way too intimate, those moments only belong to him and you.

However, he will give you a little kiss: forehead, cheek, or mouth. But his favorite way to always feel close to you in public is by holding your hand. Sure, he knows that you’re always close to him, hands held or not, yet the feeling of your hand in his intensifies so many feelings.

Quinn likes that such a simple gesture tells everyone you’re off limits. In a crowded bar, with many wandering to your gorgeous self, nobody will ever think you’re available, not if Quinn’s got his hand in yours.

“You want another drink, baby?”

“Yeah, Quinny, let’s go.” You say, also always wanting his presence by your side.

So, together you make your way towards the bar, hands held tightly.

No one in that bar would ever assume either of you are on the market. He loves and plans to keep it that way.

Another thing he likes about holding your hand is that he knows you’re safe. Public places bring all sorts of people. It’s no secret that Quinn’s an overthinker, so when he has your hand in his, you’re there by his side and he knows you’re good. That helps ease his worries and mind.

He shifts his focus from Brock onto you, next to him in the booth.

“Hi,” you mutter, feeling his eyes.

“Hi,” he replies.

He immediately feels at ease, your presence always bringing that feeling to life. You keep him calm and loosen.

You smile at him brightly and squeeze his hand, three times, a secret code for “I love you.”

That’s another thing he loves about holding your hand. It reminds him of your shared love for each other. He knows that you love him always, but the reassurance doesn’t hurt. No matter the action, Quinn knows you love him dearly and vice versa.

He squeezes your hand back, holding it tightly after.

He can’t focus on Brock anymore, not when his mind is running thousands of thoughts, all of you and how much he loves you.

Tysm for reading! 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #qh43 x reader #qh43 #nhl imagine #x reader #fanfic #nhl fanfiction #vancouver canucks

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captain-huggy-bear · 6 months ago

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Fishbowl Blues

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, talk about blood/injuries

Summary: You're more stressed and worried over Quinn's busted lip than he is.

Notes: I really hope we're all wrong when we're speculating that Quinn is feeling self conscious of his lip because he is handsome all the time, and he's too good a captain to feel self-conscious. I also hope he heals quickly because I bet its a bitch to eat with.

Also i'm on X-Mas holidays from teaching sooooo feel free to send me your Quinn (and maybe also Jack) thoughts.

You're right at the glass when it happens, a front row seat to the way the stick smashes into his face and the way Quinn slams into the ground in response. Your hands press to the glass urgently as you try to look around the bodies on the ice to see what the damage is. Even as the jumbtron jumps between filming him on the ice and filming you at the rink side. It's not the first time he's been injured on the ice, but usually he pops back up almost immediately, has a sarcastic word for the linesman or complaint and then continues on. Shrugs it off as if its nothing. A few bruises, a little cut, nothing more, nothing less.

Not today.

Today all you see is Quinn down on the ice for longer than he should be, a puddle of bright red, oxygenated blood contrasted against white ice. You push to the side until you can see him clearer as he pushes to his feet, mouth bleeding, hand pressed to cover it. Your eyes lock through the plexi, yours wide, worried, his grimacing in some sort of attempt to reassure you as he skates away across the ice and down the tunnel. It was not, in fact, very reassuring.

It's the worst 15 minutes of your life so far, you feel physically sick knowing you can't follow him, but wanting desperately to, to know if he's okay. Your mind thinking up 101 different possibilities for how damaged he might be. Had he lost teeth? Was it his lip that was split? Was his nose broken? A jaw? A cheekbone?

When he finally skates back out on the ice, fishbowl on, you're worry dials back a step or you think it does, that underlying buzz is still there under your skin. You no longer feel sick as you watch him skate confidently across the ice, score a goal and keep pushing through the rest of the game. The worry doesn't disappear entirely though, you're still unsure what the damage is, but know its enough for them to want him to cover his face from any more harm.

You also know your boyfriend, you know what he's like. He'd keep playing even if his arm was hanging off, it's just the way he is, so the fact he's skating fine doesn't actually reassure you. If anything it worries you more that he's hiding how hurt he is.

When the game ends you're one of the first to rush to the locker room, bouncing on the balls of your feet with nervous energy until you see him. Beanie back in place to cover his curls, suit more rumpled than it was when he arrived at the arena hours prior.

"Quinn..." The buzz of anxiety and adrenaline comes back full force under your skin, your hands shaking as your leg bounces.

"I'm okay..." It's mumbled, barely audible, he winces at the pull on his lip as he tries to talk, stitches stark against his lip. He's swollen, bruised, and clearly in pain but still tries to reassure you as you gently cup his face in your hands. He doesn't want you to worry, can see it in your face, the way our hands shake as they hold him so gently like he might actually break apart from a single touch. He hates it, hates feeling so fragile when he's normally your rock.

"Stop talking, you're going to pull your stitches." You scold him even as your eyes well with tears at how painful it looks. His chuckle at your teacher voice coming out quickly cut off by a hiss of pain, stopped short before it can grow. It's worse than you thought, his lip split in two, held together by a line of stitches. There's bruising under his nose, across his cupids bow and his mouth is swollen to the point where even that looks sore.

He wants to reassure you but talking hurts and he knows you just need to fuss over him, so he lets you brush your thumbs across his cheeks, lets you kiss his nose and chin gently. He lets you lead him out to the car, but refuses to let you carry his equipment.

"I'm driving," you hold your hand out expectantly, waiting for the keys, and he just raises a brow before opening the passenger side door, holding it open for you and waiting. He loves you, but he's not incapable of driving and as much as he'll support your fussing to a point, he'll draw the line here. Especially when he can see you're still shaking as much as you try to hide it.

"Quinn, you got the shit beat out of your face, just let me drive home!" Your hands make their way to your hips, brown furrowed as you glare at him. He can imagine that's the same look you give your high school students when they're being particularly difficult, but it's not working on him.

"No, not happening. Get in, sweetheart." It still hurts to talk and maybe he's a bit quiet with it, trying to move his lip as little as possible, but he's not spending the next god knows how long mute.

"Quinn..." The worry on your face is so clear that he almost considers giving in, you're nervous, you're worried, hell, he might even say you're scared. But, he knows he's okay, or at least, okay enough to drive. He's trying not to think about brushing his teeth or eating dinner right now. Fuck, he just wants a burger and he knows that's an impossibility...or some salty fries...fuck.

"I split my lip. I'm not an invalid." It's the shortness of his tone, the annoyance starting to breach the surface that has you giving in. You want to fuss, but you can see it, this is the hill he'll die on and you can compromise on this. For him. You can compromise for him, if it helps him keep a sense of strength, a sense of masculinity after a shitty day.

"Okay..." you slip into the passenger seat and let him do your seatbelt for you, knowing he needs to feel useful and not being entirely sure you'd manage with how much your hands are shaking. You try not to watch him as he drives, but still find yourself looking from the corner of your eye. You catch each wince, each grimace and it only makes it harder for you not to fuss. Makes that panic in your chest start to rise again as the minutes tick by, the drive feeling so much longer than it is.

Still, you resist talking, resist fussing, even as you can feel the tears welling again because fuck, you'd been absolutely terrified tonight. It's as Quinn pulls into his parking spot that your head presses back into the headrest behind you, eyes blinking back tears as you stare the roof of the car. Hands clenching and unclenching in fists in your lap as you try to will the tears back.

He's watching you from your peripheral vision, hand reaching out to tuck your hair behind your ear, even as you bite your lip hard to try to keep the tears at bay. You fail absolutely spectacularly.

The tears come streaming thick and fast down your cheeks, quicker than you can brush them away as you start burbling on. The fear, the worry, the anxiety and stress of the game finally boiling over in the safety of the parking garage.

"This is so stupid, you're the one who got hurt...you s-should be crying, n-not me." You feel ridiculous, even as you can't stop the tears from coming, "why am I c-crying, this...this is s-so s-s-stupid..."

If it's possible it makes Quinn love you even more, the way you love him so much that a high stick to the face has you more stressed out than him. He doesn't love the tears, but fuck, he loves how much you care.

"Hey, hey..." it's a soft murmur, interspersed with a few hisses of pain which don't help your tears any, even as he pulls your face towards his, fingers brushing the tears from your cheeks and rubbing softly across your bottom lip which you've bitten nearly to bleeding point. "It's okay, i'm okay...eating'll suck for a while and fuck, i'm going to miss kissing you, but i'm okay, baby..." He actually might be most upset about the fact he can't kiss you when he comes to think of it. He can handle soup for weeks, can handle mint toothpaste stinging his lip, but not kissing you? An actual crime against him.

"B-but, what...what i-if you..." You're stopped in your tracks by him lightly smushing your cheeks together.

"No. No...we're not doing what ifs, not happening, sweetheart, okay?" He lets your face go, fingers combing through your hair, brushing gently across your forehead and down your jaw.

"I..." you're still inhaling sharply with every word, almost hiccuping, the panic still there, if slowly easing down. He hates it, that you're this upset over it. It makes him want to wear a stupid bubble all the time, just to avoid how you're looking at him right now.

"Look at me." There's a pause where he waits for your breath to ease a little, the sharp inhales starting to smooth out with each brush of his fingers , "I'm okay and i'll be okay next game and the next and the next...sure i'm about to get reallllll grumpy without being able to kiss you and, sure, i'm going to be a pain in your ass for a few weeks, but that's not worth your tears, baby."

"I c-can...I can still kiss you though, right?" It makes him huff out a laugh, the way your wet, wide eyes look at him like you're only just realising that you too are going to be punished without kisses from Quinn for weeks.

"Yeah, baby, just, avoid the lips, yeah?"

"O..okay, I can do that." You nod your head to yourself as if you're considering the logistics of it all, which you are. You're contemplating all the places you can kiss him pain free: his forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw, chin...

Quinn watches you for a minute, the redness of your eyes, the way your chest has stopped heaving and for a minute he forgets it all.

"Let's go instead, yeah? I'm okay."

It's quiet, the way you sort yourselves out for the evening. You potter about to reheat some soup you made the other day for him, while he changes into comfy clothes. You eat quietly together, you watching him intently as he eats, every wince noted but the panic isn't there this time. You can breathe, you still hate the fact he's hurt, but the feeling of impending doom is gone, the dread, the fear, it's been eased by his insistance that he's okay.

Quinn navigates brushing his teeth, it takes him twice as long because of how careful he has to be, but he manages. Finally, lying down next to you and pulling you into his arms feels like a reward. The way you curl into him, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder and jaw as you tuck your head under his chin, it makes him feel normal for the first time since he took a hockey stick to the face.

The remaining adrenaline of the day slips away with every rub of his palm against your back, every rise and fall of his chest underneath you, every steady thump of his heart. He's okay, and maybe you're scared he won't be next time, but you knew what you signed up for when you started dating a hockey player. Besides, he's worth every single second of fear.

#huggy bear writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine

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86espresso · 6 months ago

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quinn hughes x drunk!gf!reader

sum ; you’re horny and drunk and sad and quinn won’t let you kidnap a stray animal

warnings ; no proper title because i suck, slightly suggestive but no smut, kissing (yay), casually brining up kids bc we’re locked in like that, distracted driving! gawd please don’t do that

a/n ; they should invent a quinn that is real

w/c ; 783

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

“Please. I’ll give you road head.”

Quinn laughed.

“Tempting. But still, no.”

You pout, turn away from him, and stare out the window. Watching the blurred lights flash in front of you made you dizzy, so you shut your eyes.

Quinn saying ‘no’ to you was a rarity, and you told yourself not to get used to it, but he’s always treated you like such a princess, it was hard not to. In this case, it was an alley cat you found and quickly made friends with after leaving the club and calling Quinn to come and pick you up. He had to pry you away from the poor cat and he tried to explain to you that you can’t just take a random cat off the streets, but you weren’t having any of it.

He also made sure that all of your friends had their safe rides home, ever the charge-taker, and you thought that that was very sexy of him. You would’ve jumped his bones right then if you weren’t so upset about the cat.

“C’mon, baby, don’t be upset,” he says, softly, putting his hand back on your thigh after you brushed it off. “What if he belonged to someone else?”

“It was a she. I checked.” You huff again, arms crossing half because you were cold and half because you wanted to show Quinn how upset you were. He notices the movement out of his periphery and turns the heat up.

“That’s gross.”

“You’re gross. Quinny, I really want that cat.”

He sighed. “Sweetheart, a cat is also a responsibility, don’t you think? And plus, it would take your attention off of me. Can’t have that.”

Quinn was joking but it flew over your head.

“That’s ridiculous, what will you do when we have kids?” You let his hand stay on your thigh this time, and it feels nice.

“Baby, that’s different and you know it.”

His car slows to a stop in the driveway of your home before you even notice that you’re there. He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to you fully.

“Tell you what, we’ll go to the store tomorrow and buy you one, yeah?” He reaches forward and places a hand on your cheek, which you gratefully nuzzle into. “You cool with that, sweet girl?” The use of ‘sweet girl’ brings your attention to his preposition. You pretend to think for a second before grinning at him.

“Yeah.” You turn your head to kiss his hand. “I’m cool with that.”

Quinn’s heart warms at the action before he notices the look in your eye. The one where you wanted—needed—a kiss desperately. He always waited for you to ask, though.

“Anything else you want, sweet girl?”

“Kiss me?”

And he complied immediately, not wanting to keep you away from anything else that you wanted. His lips met yours in a soft, closed mouthed kiss that sent you reeling for more.

His hand drops from your face and down your shoulders to your waist. Your hands cup his face, feeling the texture of his stubble under your fingertips, and it feels wonderful.

Your lips open slightly to ask Quinn to deepen the kiss and he does, his tongue slipping into your mouth and caressing your gently. One of your hands slips down to his shirt to grip it while you move to climb on his lap. You giggle and pull away when you realize that Quinn was pulling you into his lap at the same time and it caused you both to knock heads together. Quinn smiled at the sound. Luckily, neither of you were hurt.

His heart burst at the sight of you in front of him, drunk and giggly, snug and perfect in his lap. You lean in to connect your lips again and you slowly make out for a minute. You feel yourself getting needier at his warm hands on your back and in your hair and his intoxicating lips, so you grind down on him to get some sort of relief.

“This,” he pulls away abruptly and holds your hips in place so you stop moving them, “is what we’re not going to do tonight.”

“I can’t have anything,” you grumble, your brows furrowing at him rejecting you twice.

He laughs, his lips moving to the apple of your cheek.

“You’re drunk, baby,” kiss. “My girl,” his kisses trail to the tip of your nose, “will get everything she wants,” kiss to your cheek, “when she’s all fresh and sober,” kisses on your jaw and back to your lips.

You hold out your pinkie indignantly and he laughs, connecting his with yours and bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #ellie writes 🙂‍↔️

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 month ago

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Find my way to you—

Quinn Hughes x reader

request: Summer Celly Request! 🐞 with Quinn Hughes "You smiled! I saw it, so no denying it." - In which he and the reader are dating, and she surprises him at the lake house after saying she is unable to make it for a while

warnings/notes: very very short, but very sweet!!

Rowan’s summer celly!!

The offseason for Quinn meant rest, relaxation, and a little too much fun.

However, it also represented a time of distance and being away from his girlfriend, who was back home, living on her own in their apartment, working as an event coordinator for a non-profit in Vancouver.

The distance was harder than he liked to admit, but just as the years before, there would be visits, phone calls, and they'd eventually overcome it.

This summer, though, she was offered three weeks of vacation time as a gift for all of the hard work she'd done within the organization over the past few years. So, immediately, she texted her group chat with Luke and Jack, asking for help in suprising Quinn.

She knew the payoff would be sweeter than usual, having hardly seen each other after his season ended, as he flew out almost immediately to support Luke in the playoffs. Not to mention the shit year he had endured with horrible home stretches, injuries, and what felt like never ending tension within the media.

So, being reunited after a year of constant contention, in Quinn's favourite place with all of his favourite people was going to be the perfect remedy.

The flights to Michigan were booked barely a day after she received the news, and when it came to finally arriving in the detroit airport, a few of Jack's friends had offered to pick her up, so as not to raise any suspicion.

So, everything was set.

When she finally drove up the driveway to the infamous lake house, it was like she could finally take a deep breath.

She snuck into their house, stopping by the kitchen to hug Jack for helping her to plan everything out, and then she made her way up to Quinn's room, where he was taking a shower.

She was giddy with nerves, sitting prettily on the edge of her bed, not daring to go on her phone in case he walked in. Her hands gently drummed against her thighs as she waited for the sound of the water to stop running. And within a few minutes, he was in his room, clad in only a pair of sweats and a head of wet curls.

When he finally notice her in his room it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of his lungs. There she was beautiful as ever, wearing and outfit made up of all of his clothes, and grinning micheiously at him.

"How?"

"Surprise?" she said, standing up, making awkward jazz-like hands before she was engulfed in his arms.

His arm wrapped around her torso, his other hand cradling the back of her head before he pulled away to press a crushing kiss to her lips. Her hands moved to cup his cheeks before she pulled away to look at him once more.

"I thought you couldn't get any time off?" he asked breathlessly, forehead pressed to hers before his head dipped down to press a few kisses to her cheeks and jaw. "I wasn't supposed to, but then they reached out and asked if I wanted time off, unpaid, but so worth it."

He let out a disbelieving laugh, one hand still at her waist. "You're insane. I can't believe you're really here." She grinned as his face broke out into her favourite toothy grin.

"You smiled! I saw it, so no denying it." He rolled his eyes, but the corners of his lips tugged higher. "Maybe." "Don’t 'maybe' me. That was a full-on, stupidly adorable smile," she teased, gently poking at the dip in his cheek before she pressed a quick peck to his chapped lips.

"Stupidly adorable?" he echoed, one eyebrow raised, his voice dipping with mock offence.

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck again, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his jaw. "Yup." He shook his head, but the blush was spreading down his neck. "You're unreal."

They stood there for a moment, no rush, just the quiet excitement of being in the same room again after a month of being apart. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the damp ends of his curls, taking in his tanned shoulders, the light dusking of freckles across his skin and face, just before he tucked her closer into his chest.

"How long are you here for?" he finally asked, his voice a little quieter, as if saying it too loudly might ruin the moment. "Three whole weeks," she whispered back, leaning her head against his shoulder.

He could feel her growing smile against his skin as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Unless you get sick of me before then." He gave a scoffing laugh, tugging her impossibly closer. "Not a chance in hell."

Before it could go any further there was a loud knock at the door, startling them both.

"What?" Quinn yelled out, annoyance already filling his voice at the idea of anyone interrupting this moment. "Are you decent? Can I come in and say hi?" Luke yelled from the other side of the door.

"Yes of-" she started before she was cut off by a louder Quinn "No!" he cut her off quickly, "I only have her for three weeks, and I'm not sharing."

She let out a surprised laugh, looking up at him with raised brows at the breaking of his reserved character. "Yours?" He shrugged, a little embarrassed at his forwardness, before smirking as he tightened his grip around her waist. "I’m claiming full custody of your time here"

"Okay, gross," Luke called again, clearly still hovering in the hallway.

"Can you save the boyfriend stuff for later? I literally helped coordinate this entire surprise. I deserve, like, a medal for all the secrecy. Or at least a hug from my sister-in-law!"

Quinn rolled his eyes. "You’ll get a high-five and three seconds of our time if you’re lucky."

"You owe me at least one heartfelt thank-you speech," Luke retorted before he gave up and left the couple to soak up the moment.

#rowan's summer celly!!#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes

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urdreamydoodles · 7 months ago

Text

Bat-Villains x Reader

You're the new hot and smart underling

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- From the moment you joined the Joker’s ranks, his interest was piqued. Your sharp mind and striking presence stood out amongst the usual riff-raff. “A diamond in the rough!” he declared with a manic grin. Though he initially treated you like any other henchperson, his curious glances and the way he leaned in during conversations hinted at deeper intrigue.

- The Joker quickly made it a point to test your intellect. He threw out riddles mid-conversation, asked for your input on his chaotic plans, and watched with delight as you matched his wit. When you pointed out a flaw in one of his schemes—something no one else dared to do—he clapped his hands and cackled. “I like you,” he said, the words dangerously lighthearted.

- He couldn’t resist pulling you into the spotlight, often assigning you the most high-profile tasks. “Let’s see what you’re really made of!” he’d say with a grin that sent chills down your spine. Success was met with a rare approval, while failure earned a manic lecture or a laugh that felt more threatening than amused.

- Over time, his obsession with you became clear. He’d show up unannounced while you worked, circling you like a predator and commenting on how “refreshingly unpredictable” you were. His attention was both a blessing and a curse, offering protection but also putting you in constant danger of his volatile whims.

- The other henchpeople noticed the Joker’s fixation on you, leading to whispers and jealousy. Some even tried to undermine you, but the Joker put an immediate stop to it. “Nobody touches my little genius,” he’d hiss, his voice icy before switching back to his signature grin.

- Despite his madness, there were moments where his attention bordered on genuine. He’d hand you a gift—a macabre joke of a trinket—and watch your reaction with keen interest. Yet, his affection always felt like a game, a dangerous dance where losing meant the stakes could turn deadly.

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley was instantly drawn to you when you joined the gang. “Ooh, fresh meat!” she teased, her Brooklyn accent thick with mischief. It didn’t take long for her to notice your sharp mind and how you carried yourself with confidence. “Smart and hot? You’re a triple threat, sugar!” she exclaimed, clearly intrigued.

- Harley loved testing your limits, throwing you into chaotic situations to see how you handled them. Whether it was a high-speed getaway or negotiating with rival criminals, she’d watch you with sparkling eyes, clapping her hands in glee when you exceeded expectations.

- Her flirtation was constant and shameless. She’d saunter up to you during planning sessions, twirling a strand of her blonde-and-pink hair. “Y’know, if I wasn’t with Mistah J, I’d have to snatch you up,” she’d say with a wink, though you couldn’t always tell how serious she was.

- As your competence became undeniable, Harley began to rely on you more and more. She’d drag you into her schemes, insisting, “You’re my good luck charm!” She’d giggle when things went awry but always trusted you to pull them back together.

- Harley wasn’t above showing off for you, either. During fights or heists, she’d go out of her way to make dramatic, acrobatic moves, casting a playful glance your way afterward. “Betcha didn’t know I could do that, huh?” she’d say, grinning ear to ear.

- Beneath her bubbly exterior, Harley grew genuinely attached to you. She’d seek you out during quiet moments, talking about everything from the stars to her favorite cartoons. “You’re somethin’ special, y’know?” she’d say softly, her tone unusually serious before covering it with a laugh.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Ivy noticed you the moment you walked in. She had an uncanny way of sensing power, and there was something about your intelligence and charisma that intrigued her. “You’re not like the rest of them,” she said with a sly smile, her green eyes piercing.

- She tested you in subtle ways, asking for your opinion on her environmental crusades or challenging you with complex tasks. When you provided thoughtful, insightful answers, she found herself impressed. “Hmm, perhaps you’re worth keeping around,” she mused, though the glimmer of approval in her gaze said more.

- Ivy quickly took you under her wing, ensuring you worked closely with her. She’d often call you to her greenhouse, watching as you moved carefully among her plants. “You have respect for life,” she’d note, almost to herself. Her approval felt rare and precious, like sunlight through the trees.

- Her fondness for you grew in small but significant ways. She’d casually offer you gifts—rare flowers or herbs—claiming they were “just leftovers.” When you thanked her, she’d wave it off, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her pleasure.

- Ivy’s protective instincts soon kicked in. If anyone in the organization dared to disrespect you, they’d find themselves tangled in vines before they could blink. “No one touches what’s mine,” she’d declare, her voice cold and commanding, though she never elaborated on the claim.

- Despite her aloof demeanor, Ivy valued your presence deeply. In quiet moments, she’d open up about her dreams of a better world, her voice soft and wistful. “You understand,” she’d say, almost vulnerable. “You see the beauty in the chaos, just like me.”

Bane

- Bane was initially skeptical of you. Beauty and intelligence were rare qualities among his recruits, and he wondered if you were too good to be true. “Prove your worth,” he demanded, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. His voice was calm but carried the weight of a challenge.

- You quickly earned his respect through your sharp strategies and unflinching determination. Bane valued strength, both physical and mental, and your ability to stay calm under pressure impressed him. “You are more capable than most,” he admitted, a rare compliment from the man who broke the Bat.

- Bane began involving you in higher-level plans, seeking your input and trusting your judgment. “You think like a tactician,” he observed, his dark eyes studying you intently. His approval felt earned, a testament to your hard work and resilience.

- Despite his stoic demeanor, Bane showed his care in subtle ways. He ensured you were well-protected during missions, assigning his most loyal soldiers to watch your back. “Your mind is a valuable asset,” he’d say, though his actions hinted at something more personal.

- Over time, Bane’s respect for you deepened into admiration. He found himself drawn to your unwavering determination and the way you carried yourself with quiet confidence. “You remind me of someone who fights for what they believe in,” he said once, his tone almost reverent.

- Bane’s connection to you became undeniable when he began sharing fragments of his past. “Strength is forged in pain,” he told you one night, his voice low and reflective. “You understand that. It’s why you belong here—with me.” His words carried a rare vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s first impression of you was clinical curiosity. Among the sea of his mindless minions, your sharp intelligence and composed demeanor were a breath of fresh air. He observed you silently for days, cataloging your behavior like a subject in his experiments. “Fascinating,” he murmured to himself when you solved a problem no one else could.

- He wasted no time putting your mind to the test, assigning you tasks meant to break weaker recruits. When you succeeded with ease, he became both intrigued and slightly unnerved. “You’re more resilient than I expected,” he remarked, his tone bordering on admiration, though his calculating eyes betrayed his constant evaluation.

- As you gained his respect, Jonathan began sharing his philosophical musings with you. “Fear,” he’d say, leaning closer, “is the only true motivator.” He watched your reactions intently, searching for a flicker of agreement or defiance. Your willingness to engage in these debates only solidified his growing fascination with you.

- Over time, he involved you in his experiments, valuing your input on the effects of his fear toxin. He’d watch you work with a rare, quiet intensity, occasionally breaking the silence to ask your opinion. “Tell me,” he said once, “what do you fear most?” The question lingered in the air, more personal than professional.

- Jonathan’s protectiveness over you grew subtly. If anyone questioned your methods or competence, he’d silence them with a single glare. “This one,” he’d say, his voice cold, “is not to be underestimated.” His approval came sparingly, but when given, it felt like a hard-earned triumph.

- Despite his detached nature, Jonathan found himself drawn to your presence in a way that surprised even him. During his quieter moments, he’d share fragments of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and vulnerability. “Perhaps,” he said one night, almost to himself, “fear isn’t the only thing that defines us.”

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey noticed you the moment you joined his organization. Half of him admired your intelligence and poise, while the other half—gruffer, more distrusting—demanded you prove your loyalty. “Let’s see how you handle yourself,” he said, flipping his coin. Heads, you were given a chance; tails, you were thrown into the fire.

- Your quick thinking and unshakable composure soon won over both sides of Harvey. He appreciated your ability to adapt to his volatile moods, navigating his dual nature with surprising ease. “You’re good,” he admitted one day, his scarred side smirking while the unscarred side gave a small nod of approval.

- Harvey began relying on you for more than just grunt work, bringing you into his inner circle. He’d consult you during planning sessions, flipping his coin before agreeing with your suggestions. “You’re smart,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “Almost too smart for your own good.”

- Despite his hardened exterior, Harvey showed glimpses of softness around you. On rare occasions, he’d let his guard down, speaking about the struggles of balancing his two selves. “You think it’s easy?” he asked one night, his voice raw. “Living with two voices in your head?” He didn’t expect an answer but seemed comforted by your understanding.

- His dual nature extended to how he treated you. On good days, he’d praise your work and share a drink with you, his charm shining through. On bad days, he’d lash out, only to apologize later. “You shouldn’t stick around someone like me,” he muttered once, his good side conflicted while his bad side growled, “But you will.”

- Over time, Harvey’s admiration for you turned into something deeper. He became fiercely protective, warning anyone who dared to question your loyalty or competence. “This one’s mine,” he’d say, the flip of his coin deciding whether the threat ended there—or escalated further.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward immediately gravitated toward you when you joined his crew. Your intelligence was obvious, and he couldn’t resist testing it. “Riddle me this,” he said with a smirk, throwing out puzzles and watching with delight as you solved them with ease. “Finally,” he exclaimed, “someone worthy of my brilliance!”

- He quickly made you his personal protégé, dragging you into his elaborate schemes and assigning you tasks that required both wit and precision. “Don’t disappoint me,” he warned, though the gleam in his eye suggested he didn’t expect you to. Your successes only fueled his ego, making him more confident in his choice.

- Edward loved showing off around you, often monologuing about his genius or presenting you with his latest riddles. He craved your approval, though he’d never admit it outright. “You see it, don’t you?” he’d ask, leaning closer. “How much smarter I am than everyone else?”

- As your bond grew, Edward became more possessive of your time and attention. He’d grow irritable if you worked with anyone else, muttering about how “inferior minds” didn’t deserve your talents. “You’re wasted on them,” he’d say, his tone dripping with disdain.

- Despite his arrogance, Edward valued your opinions deeply. He’d often ask for your input during planning sessions, genuinely considering your ideas. When you outsmarted him in a rare moment, he was equal parts annoyed and impressed. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbled, though his smile betrayed his pride in you.

- Beneath his bravado, Edward harbored a genuine fondness for you. In quieter moments, he’d confide in you about his insecurities, his voice softer and more vulnerable than you’d ever heard. “Do you think they’ll ever truly understand me?” he asked once, his question laced with an uncharacteristic hint of doubt.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald was skeptical when you first joined his ranks. He’d seen plenty of attractive recruits come and go, and he assumed you’d be no different. But when you demonstrated your sharp mind and ability to navigate his world, he quickly took notice. “Hmm,” he muttered, adjusting his monocle. “You might be more useful than you look.”

- He began assigning you more important tasks, watching closely to see how you handled yourself. When you not only met but exceeded his expectations, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “Well, well,” he said with a smirk. “It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

- Oswald had a flair for theatrics, and he loved dragging you into his schemes. He’d show off his wealth and power, often treating you to luxurious dinners or gifting you extravagant trinkets. “Consider it an investment,” he’d say, though his smug grin suggested otherwise.

- Over time, Oswald’s respect for you grew into admiration. He appreciated your loyalty and competence, valuing you as more than just another underling. “You’ve got potential,” he told you one night, his tone unusually sincere. “Stick with me, and you’ll go far.”

- Despite his ruthless nature, Oswald showed surprising protectiveness over you. If anyone dared to disrespect or threaten you, they’d find themselves at the mercy of his sharp-tipped umbrella. “No one crosses the Penguin,” he growled, his eyes cold. “Especially not someone under my wing.”

- Oswald’s attachment to you became evident in his quieter moments. He’d share stories of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and longing. “The world never gave me a chance,” he said once, his gaze distant. “But you—you’re different. You’ve got what it takes to survive.”

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thecloudsaremyhome · 3 months ago

Note

Could you pretty please do a part four of "If Reader committed suicide" and include Selina, Clark, Harley Quinn and Ra!!

(Totally okay if not)

Have a good day/night

You ask and I shall receive enjoy!

Selina: Selina was apart of Bruce’s many relationships he has had over the years the only difference is that she has been with him the longest. Their relationship has been complicated throughout the years but that doesn’t mean she still doesn’t love him. She cares she really does. But she never got to know any of his adopted children sure dick and Damian but that’s it. So she didn’t know of your existence until well your death. She’s heard of your mother before yes but that’s it. She barely knew you. So why why does she feel this intense motherly protection while staring at your dead body lying on the floor. Why does she grieve like Bruce. Who is just as broken. She never wished for children she was fond of them yes but she hasn’t thought of having her own. But looking at you, looking at your lifeless form. She wishes she did have a child. She wished you were her child so she could’ve prevented this from happening. From you succumbing under the darkness. But Selina doesn’t give up, she’s not the type to. So she will help Bruce find a way to save your from the pips of death. And maybe you’ll see her as someone to look up to. Because she knows she will never be your real mother but she can atleast try to.

Clark: clark Yas a complicated relationship with Bruce as a whole they've never seen much of an eye to eye for their senses of justice but they are still able to work together as a team reluctantly. But behind Bruce's gold demeanor they both care for each other to an extent. Clarks worked with a multitude of Bruce's kids to know basic information about them but to clark your an annomoly to him. He had not once met you or have heard about you before not until well Bruce asks him for his help to bring you back to life. And that's when he's. Left surprised he thought Damian was his only bio child. So Clarks distraught on what Bruce has just informed him. But he doesn't take time to process it an immediately agrees to help his friend. That's when he also gets to learn more about you and your so called situation. To say he's pissed is an understatement. What you went through was absolutely horrible, he could never imagine such a young child going through. But that doesn't mean he won't stop helping Bruce no this fuels him to help Bruce even more. To bring you back, to make sure you get the love you need. And then take you for himself.

Harley Quinn: harley and Bruce gave a complicated relationship going from our enemies to accomplices to semi friends to enemies again, let's just say it's complicated. But she doesn't hold any true murder intentions against Bruce because he has helped her in the past, guided her in some way. So of course she's in debut to repay him. So when the big bay asks her for help on bringing you back she's a bjtshocked overall. She's fought some of Bruce's kids but she's never heard of you before. Not even in the underground. So it's strange to say the least. She never once heard of you. Well maybe she did once hear about Bruce's many flings but that was years ago! But when she gazes at your now dead body she can't help but feel a sense of dread in her gut. This Isanti right and she know it but she does own big B for saving her and now she can't really back down can she? Maybe if they could bring you back maybe she could help you escape.

Authors note: I hole this is good I don't know much abouts Ra's lore to properly write him but once I do I'll make sure to add him! Thank you for the request! I'm sorry if the ending was rushed!

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rocknrollbabe14 · 22 days ago

Text

Protector

Johnny Storm x reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: slight self-doubt, p in v sex, breeding kink?, cream pie—If I forgot anything, let me know.

Author's Note: I researched some about Johnny Storm and FF before writing this but don't hate me if it's not 100% accurate.

**Also special thanks to @josephs-quinns for my amazing header!**

It had been days since Johnny had been knocked back to earth by the Silver Surfer. It didn’t matter that he was a superhero, part of him was still a human and he was hurt. He needed a few days to recover, and regroup with Sue, Reed, and Ben about how to handle things, and how to protect the world they’re living in. The public was beginning to lose trust in the Fantastic Four.

They could no longer guarantee the public’s safety. He hadn’t been very talkative, staying mostly in the bedroom you both shared. He wasn’t eating or drinking. You were worried about him.

Against your better judgment, you knocked on the door lightly. You waited for a response, giving you permission to enter.

“Come in.”, Johnny’s soft deadpanned voice responded.

Feeling more hopeful than before, you gently pushed the door open to the bedroom. Johnny was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn’t his usual upbeat self. It hurt you to see him like this. But you didn’t quite understand what he was going through. You were human after all.

“How are you doing babe?”, you smiled softly, sitting down on the bed beside him.

He felt the weight of you, causing him to close his eyes for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

“Not good.”

You gave him a sad smile, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Johnny, you can’t be so hard on yourself. This isn’t just up to you.”

Johnny eyed you sadly, disappointment all over his face. “It’s my fault.”

You crinkled your face in confusion. “How? How is it your fault?”

You were trying to get to the root of why he was blaming himself so easily. This was not the Johnny you were used to.

“Johnny.”

He eyed you. “We promised to keep this planet safe—that means keep you safe. And I’m failing you. Well, I just couldn’t imagine—if something were to happen to you.”

You stopped him immediately, sliding your hand down his arm, and taking hold of his hand. His fingers instinctively intertwined with yours.

“Nothing is going to happen to me—or anyone else on this planet. I know you all can save us. I believe in you, Johnny Storm.”

Johnny looked up at you, his expression easing some. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He quickly sat up, letting go of your hand before taking you in his arms and kissing your head. You smiled softly, embracing Johnny back. He pulled back just a little, his hand resting on the back of your head, fingers laced between your hair. A soft smile spread across his lips, a sight you had missed the past few days. Your heart soared just seeing him smile.

“What have I done to deserve you?”

You smiled, laughing lightly. “I don’t know—you just saved me that day.”

He remembered the day you were referring to. It started out as a normal day, one like any other. You were on your way to work, barely paying attention to your surroundings. Which was kind of stupid on your part, however, Johnny was nearby and trying to keep a low profile. That was hard since he and his family were launched into space, an experiment by his brother-in-law, Reed Richards. Somehow, the group was exposed to cosmic rays.

He noticed that disaster was about to strike, a pretty girl like you was about to get hurt badly He had to stop that. A car was barreling down the street, going way too fast. Johnny swooped in and saved you. From then on, you both had been inseparable.

“Best decision I ever made.”

“Oh stop it.”, you giggled, causing Johnny to smile once he noticed you were blushing.

“Never.”, Johnny laughed before he leaned in, beginning to kiss you.

His kisses started soft but progressed quickly, becoming deepened. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going to happen next. You were receptive to his moves, kissing him back with just as much excitement and lust. He may have been really attractive, but Johnny was a good guy. He was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

“Can I have you?”, Johnny asked breathlessly through kisses.

“Yes.”, you breathed back, eagerness laced in your voice.

Johnny had done a 360 from what his mood was earlier. He easily pushed you back on the bed, beginning to pull at your shirt. He brought it up and over your head while continuing to kiss you. He only broke the kiss when he had to. You could only imagine why all the women in the city thought Johnny was hot. Johnny wasted no time in moving his hands down your stomach, across your hips and thighs before finding the hem of your pants, and quickly pulling them down around your ankles.

He broke the kiss long enough to pull them off and toss them on the floor, keeping eye contact with you the entire time. It made your heart skip a beat and your stomach twist into knots. It had been a couple of weeks since you both had sex. Johnny was distracted with the Silver Surfer and Galacticus business. It had been eating at him but maybe this was just the distraction he needed.

Wasting no time, you reached for his t-shirt, pulling on it. He chuckled through the kiss, knowing exactly what you wanted.

“Want to take my shirt off?”

“Yes.”, you responded, almost breathless already and this had just begun.

Johnny broke the kiss completely to lean up slightly, allowing you to pull his t-shirt up and off of him. All you could do was admire his chest and muscles. You had really won the lottery in all ways. Johnny smirked, noticing you taking the time to admire him. It made him want you that much more. He had definitely been distracted and had lost sight of some of the most important things in his life: you and his family.

He was quick to pull his pants off, leaving him in his boxers. He chuckled lightly, noticing how hard he already was for you. You noticed too, beginning to smile.

“Hm already hard for me, huh?”, you teased, smiling.

“I am.”, Johnny responded confidently. “It’s been weeks since I’ve had you.”

Johnny continued listening as he threw off his last article of clothing, letting his cock spring free, finally feeling some relief. He was aching for you, he needed you.

“I’m aware. But you’ve been busy and distracted with all of this chaos.”

He nodded lightly, positioning himself back on top of you. “I know. I’ve lost sight of the things that really matter.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s been stressful. But tonight, I don’t want you to think about anything but us.”, you breathed before kissing him.

“I won’t.”, he promised.

You smiled lightly before he went back to kissing you softly, feeling his cock brush again your entrance. It was like he was teasing you and you were already reaching the point where you felt like you couldn’t endure much more. He noticed, watching your eyes bat shut while you swallowed hard. He loved it when you were vulnerable like this. You trusted him.

“Ready for me?”, his voice asked deeply between feverish kisses.

“Yes, Johnny. Please.”, you squeaked.

He chuckled seductively before pulling away from you slightly, fixing himself at your entrance. You were already soaked for him. That only boosted his ego, knowing how much you loved him and desired him. Sure, the women loved him but he only loved you. Without you, he didn’t know what he would do. That’s what worried him so much with the Silver Surfer and Galacticus.

“Say no more.”, Johnny smirked, thrusting his hips and inserting his full length inside you causing your eyes to go wide and a long, drawn-out moan to escape your pretty mouth.

It was like music to his ears. He gave you a moment to adjust to his length, watching your eyes roll back in your head. The feeling of him inside you was pure euphoria. There was no other way to describe it. Your hands gripped the sheet, your knuckles turning white. And he hadn’t even started moving yet. He watched you for a moment, taking in this moment in case this was one of the last times. Johnny, stop thinking like that.

Your eyes opened, and you sighed lightly. At that moment, he knew you were ready for him. He began thrusting deep inside you, soft and slow to start. You’d tell him if you wanted it harder. A series of small moans escaped your mouth as Johnny began to hit the spot that was just right. Your hands left the sheets, finding Johnny’s forearms before moving up to his biceps.

He had been working out lately, trying to make himself stronger. He let out a small groan as he felt your nails dig into his skin.

“Feeling okay?”, he asked softly.

You nodded, breathless.

“Good, that’s so good. Fuck, you feel so good.”, he moaned as he closed his blue eyes, letting himself go.

It was time to focus on the here and now, on you.

“Do I?”, you managed to tease in a seductive voice.

“Fuck yes, baby. You’re so fucking sexy.”

You giggled lightly, relaxing under him. It felt good to hear Johnny say those things to you. It made your stomach twist and turn in ways you didn’t even think was possible. He was good at that—hell, Johnny was good at everything.

“Whatever.”, you smirked at him, rolling your eyes playfully.

“It’s true,”, he groaned as he pulled himself almost all the way out before pushing his cock back deep inside you, causing you to moan and your eyes to roll back. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He knew the moves that would drive you crazy and that’s just what he wanted tonight.

“I kn—ow.”

“Do you?”, Johnny challenged playfully. “Seems like I’m just gonna have to show you.”

Johnny slowed his rhythm down, leaning down and kissing your neck gently.

“And how do you plan—to do that?”

“Like this.”, he smirked, beginning to thrust faster. He managed to go deeper, hitting your g-spot and causing your eyes to roll back in your head.

You were too stunned to speak, only a small trickle of moans escaping your lips. He chuckled, feeling proud of himself. He leaned down, bringing himself flush with your body before kissing your neck. It felt good to forget the worries of the world, only focusing on you both. Nothing else mattered at this moment.

“Fu—ck Johnny, feels so good.”, you managed to get out, voice slightly hoarse.

“I’m glad, baby. It’s supposed to.”, he smirked. “You know we could be like Reed and Sue—have a little baby of our own.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right?”

Johnny’s smile faded slightly, his confidence going with it. “No?”

“And why would you wanna do that?”

“Because seeing Reed and Sue with Frankie—well, it’s made me think that we could have that too.”

You began smiling, giggling lightly. Johnny was slightly, confused trying to figure out what was going on.

“I just never pinned you for that.”, you finally said. “You’d really want a baby with me?”

Johnny smiled, somehow finding his rhythm again. “Yes, I would—I do.”, he stammered, correctly himself.

You giggled lightly, not used to seeing Johnny so flustered. It was cute, something else you loved about him.

“You wanna put one in me right now?”, you asked.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”, you confirmed with a smile on your face.

“I’d love to.”, Johnny responded, gaining his confidence back just as quickly as it had left.

He had no expectations that this conversation would go in this direction but he was glad it did. It confirmed that you really wanted a life with him. You really wanted him. It was cute that he was so excited about this. You heard Johnny could be a player, but he just hadn’t found the right girl he wanted to settle down with.

“You’re gonna be so cute pregnant.”, he groaned, his head falling back slightly.

“Uh-huh.”, you teased back.

“I mean it—cute little round belly. And knowing it’s mine—it’s going to be perfect.”, he smiled.

You began feeling that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. The one where you knew you were close—very close to a release. All that tension was building up and it was almost time to let it go. Johnny could tell you were close too—he knew you so well. Your eyes fluttered shut, fingertips sinking into his biceps.

“Johnny, I’m so—close.”, you swallowed hard.

“Cum for me, baby. I’m so close to cumming so hard inside of you.”, he breathed, voice shaky.

That was it. He felt your body tense up, your cunt tightening around his cock. You let out a string of moans and he tried to thrust but once you tightened around him, it was game over. He watched your orgasm overtake you, something he never got tired of watching. It was the small things.

“Fuck, I’m cumming too.”, he groaned as his cock began pulsing deep inside of you, the sweat evident on his forehead.

You felt his warm seed flowing deep inside you, causing you both to smile at each other even if you were breathless. This was it—you were really trying to have a baby. Johnny stayed there, making sure every last drop went inside you, brushing your hair to the side. He was caring, making sure you were taken care of every step of the way.

“Ready for me to pull out?”, he smirked, chuckling lightly.

“Yeah.”, you smiled.

Johnny pulled out, causing you to sigh at the loss of contact. He fell beside you, causing the bed to rock before he pulled you into his broad, thick arms.

“Now you just need cuddles.”, you felt his breath before he kissed your forehead.

“Yeah, that was amazing. I love you Johnny—so much.”

“I love you too. You’re everything to me. That’s why I want to protect you and this world. It’s my job to be your protector.”

His words made your stomach twist, causing you to pull back from him slightly so that you were staring into his blue eyes. “You are, Johnny. I know you’ll always protect me.”

“I will. I’ll die trying to protect you—and hopefully soon, our little one.”, he smiled, moving his hand down to your flat stomach.

The thoughts of Johnny being a dad drove you crazy, making your stomach ache worse. He was already so good with Frankie.

“You’ll always be our protector.”, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, the other on his cheek.

“Always.”, he responded, you both sharing a deep kiss.

#joseph quinn #johnny storm #fantastic four #fantastic 4 #fantastic four fanfiction #eddie munson #joseph quinn character #johnny storm x reader

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amourtoken · 4 months ago

Note

Hi I am here to beg for more Quinn visuals. That man lives in my head rent free 24/7/365. I literally can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have him use me like his good little sex toy

Also just wanted to say you’re one of my favourite blogs on here and I love everything you post. It always makes my day to see a new post from you

Ty!!!!! I'm here to fulfill your wishes even if I'm insanely late doing it 😭

I saw this and immediately thought of him especially if he's just made it home from a long roadie

If u squint it looks like him when his whole face isn't shown + he would absolutely spend fucking hours doing this

The kind of thrusts you'd get when you slip and ask him to put a baby in you while you're fucking

#Ask #Quinn #Visuals #Quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader

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captain-bubble-wrap · 4 months ago

Note

Broken Glass was SO GOOD!! Could you write something like that but with Auston?😯

Did this slightly different than Broken Glass just so it wasn't a duplicate post with Auston copy-and-pasted in place of Quinn.

Still high drama, still a hospital moment, still copious amounts of hurt/comfort! But thanks for the compliment, babe! 🩷

Also, I wrote this in one sitting to try and keep things more fluid. Apologies in advance for proofing.

That being said: C|W : implied alcohol use, physical trauma, minor depictions of bodily injury, mentions of blood W|C : 2k

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm not going that far, just the next block over or so. You guys are good!"

Girl's Night plus a best friend's birthday had made for an evening full of an over-abundance of laughter, stories, and alcohol. Auston had been on the road the last week and a half but was due home in the morning. His absence had flared your depression the last few days, so you were thankful for the welcomed distraction. The night was finally coming to and end and it was time to say goodbyes and go home, however hard it was.

"Are you sure?" Stressed one of your friends, the mother hen of the group.

"Yeah, I promise. I'm not leaving Auston's car downtown over-night. I'll be fine."

She sighed, her breath like smoke against the cool Canadian air. You could tell she wasn't convinced about you walking alone at night back to the car, but there was nothing to be done about it. He had been nice enough to let you drive it while he was gone, and you were going to make sure nothing happened to it.

"Text me when you get home, please."

You had to laugh, "Yes, mom."

Waiting around until all of them piled into the cab, you waved goodbye before starting off on your own. By now, Auston's game was long over and you were eager to talk to him if even just for a few minutes -- if he'd answer his phone.

"Hey mama," he said smiling when he answered your video call. His hair was wet and his eyes expressed his exhaustion but you were happy to see him regardless, and he seemed just as pleased to have you light up his phone.

"Hi, handsome," you replied, stopped at a crosswalk. "I saw you guys got a win! I had the game on at dinner."

Auston laughed, running a hand through his hair while never breaking eye contact with you. "We did yeah, we needed it. How was tonight?"

The light changed.

"It was good. The girls just left to go home.”

Auston’s expression narrowed slightly, “Are you alright to drive home?”

“Yes,” you whined. Deep down, you knew everyone was just showing that they cared about you, but sometimes you wished they had a little more faith.

“Just making sure you’re safe, mama.”

“I know,” you sighed, feeling regret over giving him the subtle attitude. “Trust me, they all but pulled me into the cab before they left. I only had a few glasses of wine, and like I told them, I’m not leaving your car parked all night.”

“You’re more important than a car.” By now, Auston’s brows were pulled in, sharp wrinkles forming beneath them. He didn’t show you his serious expression very often, but when he did, you knew it was for a reason.

“Baby, I’m fine. I knew I had to drive home, so I was careful. I’m not even giggly!”

You had the ability to melt his stern demeanor so easily, and this moment was another of those times. Almost instantly, his brown eyes were warm again as was his tone, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you. I need you safe -- always. Who else am I going to hold at night?”

His wink killed you. “Oh stop! You’re so dramatic!”

“I love you, mama.”

“I love you, too,” you confessed, feeling everything return to a normal playing field. “Are you guys flying home in the morning still?”

“Yeah, we’ll head to the airport first thing in the--”

Your phone would fly out of your hand, somersaulting across the pavement. On Auston’s end, he initially thought you had simply dropped it, but after he heard your screams he immediately flew into panic mode. Three teenagers had just jumped you from behind, one hitting you on the back of the head with something heavy which had taken you knees out from under you. You’d crumple into a ball on the sidewalk, but that was right where they wanted you. There were forceful kicks to your ribs as well as punches to your face. Never had you ever felt such intense pain in your life. This was a literal nightmare.

The taste of copper in your mouth was strong; the lack of air in your lungs made you think you were going to die. You couldn’t hear Auston’s yelling through the phone for the ringing in your years. You attackers wouldn’t see it either, as the phone had fallen screen down, up against a store front.

They were laughing at you; that you couldn’t unhear.

The beating felt like forever, but in reality only lasted a couple minutes or so. They took your Gucci bag Auston had just bought you for your birthday, as well as his keys before running off, leaving you laid out against the damp concrete. With shallow breathing and heavy eyelids, you’d feel the world fade in on you. It wouldn’t be until the ambulance’s sirens and personnel got to you that you’d be painfully reminded of the night’s turn of events.

Everything was a blur.

You were in and out of consciousness on the ride to the hospital. The bright, white overhead lights stung your throbbing head too much to bear. Every bump, every turn of the vehicle made you wonder if your bones were made of glass, and if all of them were shattered. Misery. All of it, every feeling.

- - -

“It’s going to be a long road. She’s going to need someone who can be around her consistently for some weeks. There’s no way she can take care of herself in this condition, and I’m sure you know that.”

You weren’t sure if you were in a medially induced coma or having some sort of out-of-body experience. You could hear the nurse speaking, and you thought you had heard Auston’s voice a time or two, but then again, maybe that had just been wishful thinking.

“I know it’s hard to see her this way, but the surgeries went well. We’re just keeping her here because she had so much trauma. The doctor will come up with a timetable on her release time over the next few days. There’s a lot of swelling we’re keeping an eye on, and we don’t want to send her home too early.”

Halfway through the conversation you found yourself counting the beeps coming from your heart monitor instead of who was talking in the room with you. You were alive, somehow, but you couldn’t remember getting here.

“We’ll be back at the top of the hour to check on her again, you’re more than welcome to stay.”

The door shut softly, but your eyes rolled to the left, beneath swollen and closed eyelids. Someone had sat down beside you.

“Baby, I love you,” you heard Auston mumble, voice pained like he was on the verge of tears. “I love you so much. So, so much.”

With whatever strength you could muster, you forced your eyes open. “Auston,” you could only whisper.

His ability to speak was gone. Just seeing you in that hospital bed had crushed him, let alone hearing your attack happen in real-time. You couldn’t ignore the tears silently rolling down his cheeks as his chin came to rest on the edge of the bed.

“I love...you.” Speaking was hard for you, the tubes down your throat for anesthesia had caused the hoarseness, making each word labored.

“Don’t speak, baby. It’s okay.” He was trying so hard not to break down, at least not in front of you. His eyes were red, either from not sleeping last night or from previous emotional episodes. Either way, he was losing the battle of being strong in front of you. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. I-- I--,” he closed his eyes, trying to collect himself.

With your left hand, you moved it away from your body to touch his hand. Auston seemed reluctant to touch you, likely from fear of causing you more unnecessary pain, but you reaching out to him, he swallowed up your hand with both of his. His touch was warm, so soothing against the cold nature of hospitals. All you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and let him hide you away from the nightmares of your reality.

“I called the police as soon as I heard what was happening,” he confessed, trying to shake the sounds of your cries that were replaying in his mind at the mention of last night’s chain of events.

“Your car!?” You remembered the boys stealing your bag, and everything you had in it.

Auston did his best to shush you concerns, rising to his feet to give you a much needed kiss. Your bottom lip was split, but you needed to feel him against your lips. This accident aside, it had been over ten days since you had seen him. What unfortunate circumstances you had to reconnect on.

“Don’t worry about anything but yourself, sweetheart, please. The police are working on it. Like I said last night, you mean way more to me than any car. Those are so easily replaced-- you aren’t.”

Your eyes were both blackened, swollen, and stinging against the light of the room, yet Auston looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world, because to him, you always would be. He knew your heart, making the inside always more stunning than the out.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Okay as much as you can be,” he stumbled. “When you went quiet I thought I lost you, baby.”

You were both crying now. Fuck, if you could just have him hold you.

“I’m going to call my mom later and see if she’ll fly up and stay with you while you recover, okay? I caught a red-eye last night so I could get back to you sooner than this morning. I just knew I couldn’t sit in that hotel knowing what had happened. I used Mitch’s phone to call the police. I couldn’t bring myself to end the video call, even though you didn’t have your phone. They recovered it, though. So...there’s that,” his voice dropped off. There were a lot of memories on that phone.

“Auston?” Again, your words were whispers, but he heard you easily.

“What is it, baby?”

You had never seen him look so sad -- ever. He knelt back down, his elbows now resting on the bed as he looked at your broken body before him. As carefully as he could, he touched your face with the back of his fingers.

“I’m sorry.”

Fresh tears pours down his face at you’re quiet apology. There was the sharpest pain in his chest, but he would hide it for you. He was already ashamed that he had allowed himself to cry in front of you, with you dealing with so much already.

“Baby, no, please-- please don’t apologize. You didn’t do a single thing wrong. None of this is your fault, okay? You didn’t deserve this.”

You couldn’t help but think that if you had just gotten in that cab, you’d be in bed with Auston, back at home, instead of laying in the ICU wing in the hospital with numerous broken bones and healing wounds. If only... As you looked at him, you had a feeling he knew what you were thinking.

“You had no way of knowing, sweetheart. It’s unfortunate, but sometimes things just happen, and I hate so much that it had to be you.”

Every gasp for air burned pain across your whole chest, and Auston did what he could to calm you down, although he felt like he was running blind in the situation.

“I’ve a few days off, okay? I’m not going to leave your side. I’m not leaving you here alone. I can’t,” he paused for a moment before putting his forehead to your temple. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything happen to you. Never again.”

#💌maven's love notes #auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfic #auston matthews fic #auston matthews x reader

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ruinix · 3 months ago

Note

also i cant stop thinking abt shotgunning quinn bc FUCK

shotgunning QUINNIFER?! (IS THIS AN ASK FOR A DRABBLE?!). Some thoughts--NOPE, it became a drabble as we can see. Just a mini drabble though :> (this is simply in your POV) [Note: I edited it; 503-> 575 words...oops)

Beers and Dares

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Alcohol Consumption, A bit suggestive (nothing really happened), just Quinn shotgunning lmao

Word: 575 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn is the person who wouldn’t reveal his party tricks until he was given the spotlight or a dare—rather, taunted to do so by a dare. He has that secretive flare on him.

He would rather just watch people have fun first. His observant eyes would watch everyone and everything they do. Then he joins in his own way—in the banters and games. Although, he always holds back, hence the dares. It’s a reward for you to learn his tricks, so you take it up yourself to make him show you. Today, you decided to see him shotgun a beer.

Swiping a beer from the fridge, turning on your phone camera, you march to Quinn who’s just relaxing outside balcony. The moment he catches your arrival; you toss the beer at him. He freezes, barely catching the can. His eyes are wide from surprise.

“Do it,” you demand with a grin.

“Do what?” He tries to act clueless, but you see how his hand goes to his pocket where he keeps his car keys.

“Shotgun it. I dare you.” You smirk at him, using your weapon that he couldn’t resist: your puppy dog eyes.

Not even a sense of turmoil brew in his eyes. He immediately brings out his key, turning the can to the side, punching a hole, and fucking shotgun it with ease.

You aren’t really sure that he can do this, but Quinn is doing it. All you can do is watch with your lips parted, your eyes wide, the camera still fucking rolling. Thank fuck it is.

Quinn looks absolutely hot.

His Adam’s apple bobs for every massive gulp of the beer. His jaw is so sharp as it’s tipped up. His eyes are burning into your soul. The beer—that drips down his lips, down his scruffy chin, down his neck, down his collarbones, down to his white shirt—is so fucking alluring that you had to squeeze your legs together.

There’s no fucking way you just got turned on by that.

Oh, but you are.

When he finishes, he’s the one smirking. He smugly wipes his chin with his sleeve. Still, the trail on his neck remains and it’s making you feral. Why is he so hot? Why.

“Is there anything else that you want me to do?” His deep voice breaks whatever haze you are in.

Ending the video, you huff at him, “I fucking knew it! You were holding back during last week’s boat trip!”

He leans an elbow on the railing. He’s still smirking at you. His eyes travels from your face down to your body—so painstakingly slow like he’s stripping you. One piece of clothing at a time. When his eyes drops to your legs, you are already burning.

You feel hot all over. So much that you have to lean on the glass door for support.

His smirk only grows wider as he lifts his gaze to yours.

“I remember shotgunning two cans with Jack. You just weren’t there, my Love.”

What the fuck. What does he mean he downed not one but two—

“Well, can you do the same? I bet you can’t,” he mocks.

Now, that gets you riled up. Who cares if he looks hot with beer running down his neck. Who cares if he's too fucking hot doing simple things. It's on.

You glare at him, turning back to get more beer to prove him wrong.

-> Next (Part 2: Beers and Kisses)

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amourquinn · 6 months ago

Text

( short fic ) 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.4k

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : a cozy christmas gateaway turns magical as you and quinn escape to a snowy cabin filled with festive traditions

「 author’s note 」 merry christmas eve and merry christmas! 🎄 here’s another quinny christmas fic <3

the snow was already knee-deep when you and quinn pulled into the driveway of the cabin. it was the perfect little escape from the chaos of the city—a cozy wooden retreat nestled in the woods, surrounded by towering pines dusted with fresh powder. you couldn’t help but grin as you glanced at quinn, his dark beanie tugged low over his ears and his cheeks rosy from the cold.

“this is perfect,” you said, stepping out of the car and immediately sinking into the snow. you let out a laugh, and quinn followed, shaking his head but smiling at your antics.

“better than spending christmas in the city?” he asked, grabbing your bags from the trunk.

“way better,” you replied, brushing the snow off your coat. “no traffic, no noise, just us and the wilderness. and…” you trailed off with a mischievous grin.

quinn raised an eyebrow. “and?”

“you’ll see,” you said, keeping the surprise to yourself for now.

⋆˙⟡

once inside, the cabin was even cozier than you’d imagined. the warm scent of pine filled the air, and a stone fireplace stood at the center of the living room, already stocked with firewood. you immediately set to work decorating, pulling out string lights and garlands you’d brought along, while quinn carried in the rest of the bags.

“are you trying to turn this place into santa’s workshop?” he teased, watching as you hung a wreath on the front door.

“obviously,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him. “you’ll thank me when it feels all festive in here.”

⋆˙⟡

by the time night fell, the cabin was glowing with soft, twinkling lights, and you’d both settled onto the couch in front of the fire. quinn was flipping through a christmas movie playlist, his legs stretched out across the rug.

“elf or home alone?” he asked, holding up the remote.

“neither,” you said, jumping up suddenly. “i have something for you first.”

quinn’s brows furrowed as he watched you dart into the bedroom. you returned moments later holding a neatly wrapped package, your grin almost as bright as the string lights draped across the mantel.

“what is this?” he asked, sitting up straight as you handed him the box.

“open it,” you urged, plopping down beside him.

quinn peeled back the paper, revealing two pairs of matching plaid pajamas—one in his size and one in yours. his laugh was soft but genuine as he held them up.

“you didn’t,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“oh, i absolutely did,” you replied. “it’s christmas! matching pjs are a requirement.”

“i don’t think that’s a real rule,” he said, but the playful glint in his eyes gave him away. “are we really doing this?”

“yes,” you said, pulling your own pair out of the box. “and you’re going to look handsome, so don’t even try to argue.”

quinn rolled his eyes but didn’t protest further. minutes later, the two of you stood in front of the fireplace, now fully decked out in the matching red-and-black flannel pajamas. you couldn’t stop giggling as quinn glanced down at himself, clearly feeling a little ridiculous but also oddly endearing in the cozy outfit.

“okay, i’ll admit it,” he said finally. “these are actually pretty comfortable.”

“see? i told you,” you said, kissing his right cheek.

quinn laughed, shaking his head. “you’re something else, you know that?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, flopping back onto the couch. “now, let’s watch a movie.”

but before you could hit play, you gasped, springing to your feet. “wait! i forgot the most important part.”

quinn looked after you curiously as you darted into the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients for your signature hot chocolate. you pulled out milk, dark chocolate, cocoa powder, sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. while the milk warmed on the stove, you chopped the chocolate into fine shavings, your movements quick and precise.

“what’s going on in here?” quinn asked, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work.

“only the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. “i’m not just throwing some powder into water, baby. this is the real deal.”

he smirked. “should i be scared or impressed?”

“definitely impressed,” you shot back with a wink.

once the milk was steaming, you whisked in the chocolate, sugar, and cocoa powder, the mixture turning into a velvety liquid that smelled like heaven. you added a touch of cinnamon for warmth and poured the finished hot chocolate into two mugs. for the final touch, you topped them with whipped cream and a dusting of cocoa powder.

“here,” you said, handing quinn his mug as you joined him back on the couch. “try it.”

he took a tentative sip, his eyes widening as the rich, creamy flavor hit his taste buds. “wow,” he said, looking at you with genuine admiration. “okay, i take it back. you really weren’t kidding. this is delicious.”

“told you,” you said smugly, curling up beside him with your own mug. “christmas movie night isn’t complete without good hot chocolate.”

he took another sip, his expression softening. “i think this might actually be the best hot chocolate i’ve ever had. you’ve set the bar pretty high now.”

you grinned, leaning into him. “guess that means i’ll just have to make it every year.”

“i wouldn’t complain,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

he pulled a blanket over the both of you as the opening credits of elf played on the screen. the fire crackled softly in the background, and the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the cabin in a peaceful stillness.

halfway through the movie, you felt quinn shift beside you. when you looked up, he was already gazing at you, his expression soft and full of something that made your chest tighten.

“what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“nothing,” he said, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “i’m just really glad we did this. it’s… nice, spending christmas with you like this.”

your cheeks warmed, and you leaned into his touch. “me too,” you said.

for a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply enjoy the moment. the movie played on, but your attention was entirely on quinn—his steady heartbeat, the warmth of his arm around you, the way he seemed completely at ease.

the two of you stayed curled up under the blanket as elf played on the screen, the warm glow of the fire making the cabin feel even cozier. but once the movie ended, you looked up to the window and you sat up with a sudden idea.

“let’s go build a snowman,” you said excitedly.

he raised a skeptical brow. “you serious? it’s freezing.”

“exactly. perfect snowman weather,” you said, already hopping up and tugging him off the couch.

⋆˙⟡

bundled up in your coats and scarves, you stepped out into the chilly night, the snow glistening under the light of the full moon. you knelt down and began rolling a ball of snow, packing it tightly. quinn joined in reluctantly at first, but his competitive nature kicked in quickly, and soon the two of you were working together to build the perfect snowman.

“you’re competitive about everything,” you laughed as he adjusted the middle section with precision.

“gotta make it structurally sound,” he teased. “our snowman’s not collapsing on my watch.”

eventually, the snowman came together, complete with twigs for arms, a carrot nose, and quinn even used a few stray rocks to give it a lopsided grin. for the final touch, you sacrificed your scarf for the cause. quinn immediately took off his own and he wrapped it around your neck, refusing the thought of you catching a cold on christmas.

“it’s not bad,” he said, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

“not bad? it’s amazing,” you said, laughing as you flung a handful of snow at him.

quinn dodged easily, grabbing a handful of his own and tossing it at you. the snowman stood proudly as the two of you chased each other around the yard, laughter echoing through the stillness of the woods. by the time you both collapsed into the snow, breathless and grinning, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this carefree.

“that was fun,” quinn admitted as he layed on top of your body, making sure he didn’t put too much weight on you.

“told you,” you said, cupping his face and giving a passionate kiss. “merry christmas, q.”

“merry christmas, pretty” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

#[ 📁 ] short fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #nhl hockey #vancouver canucks

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