#quinn lacey

[phantomsuds]

Had to draw @wombywoo ‘s gorgeous OCs, Vincent and Quinn! And post them to tumblr because the quality of uploads on here is better than bsky. 🥲

Thanks for making such lovely lads and sharing them with us, Womby!

[thepixelagora]

I needed a break from my WIPs so I borrowed @wombywoo's boys and doodled. Hope you like 'em, go check out the source material, Womby does stellar work

[iravaid]

A gift for @wombywoo featuring the only british people on the planet. love wins. love loses. i can't say much else lest Quinn hear me

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s a mini ficlet but I wrote it for @wombywoo because Quinn and Vincent are so lovely 🥰

***

It’s the smile that gets him. Not the flirtatious one Vincent gives to attractive people who pass by him when they’re out on the town (on the rare occasions that he can get Quinn to go out in the nightlife). It’s that damned smile where Vincent’s eyes crinkle around un-aged skin, corners of his mouth pulled up in that cheesy grin, revealing pearly whites and a pair of twin spears.

The smile he gives him when they’re alone in bed and Quinn just said “I love you,” like a grumpy child, curled up in bedsheets, his face peeking out of the hole he made around his swaddled head.

It’s the smile Vincent gives when Quinn stands awkwardly in the kitchen, wearing a “Kiss the chef” apron, with a poorly iced red velvet cake sitting on the island; the scent of burnt cake batter wafts through the air from the oven but Vincent is so proud that Quinn managed to not burn the house down.

It’s the smile Vincent flashes when he walks in at a quarter to three and sees Fig curled up right in Quinn’s face, both of them snoring (and possibly drooling) into the pillow, sheets and blankets pulled up over Quinn’s shoulders as his pale fingers twitch in Fig’s side seeking unconscious comfort.

It’s much different from the teary eyed smile Vincent gives Quinn when the man simply says he has nothing to give but whatever he’s still worth after years of being battered and broken, Vincent can have; that band in Vincent’s pocket practically burns into his thigh when he presses his forehead against Quinn’s and shuts his eyes, enjoying the touch between them.

It’s the smile that gets Quinn. Makes the butterflies in his stomach soar like doves in the bright blue sky. Makes him remember that he has a life to live despite all his traumas and fears. That someone actually loves him enough to put up with all his bullshit and still manage to care.

It’s the smile that reminds Quinn his heart is still beating. A little broken, a little bruised, a lot of heartache—but still beating.