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hottiesforhockey · 2 days ago

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dicked down december ⎜q.hughes

🎄pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader 🎄genre: christmas special ⎜smut ⎜ established relationship⎜ 🎄warnings: dry humping ⎜ fingering ⎜ oral (f! and m! receiving) ⎜ thigh riding ⎜ hair pulling ⎜ doggy style ⎜ blindfold ⎜ shower sex ⎜vibrator use ⎜public sex ⎜ edging ⎜mentions of injury⎜ p in v ⎜ quinn is all about pleasing his girl ⎜pwp ⎜ unprotected sex ⎜ 🎄synopsis: after a rather anti climatic no nut november (on your part) - quinn wants to make it up to you with the twelve gifts of christmas. 🎄word count: 13.4k 🎄authors note: this is part 2 to no nut november and was highly requested! this took a lot longer then expected to write so I'm really sorry for the delay - i hope everyone enjoys and Merry Christmas!! also I will be posting a small graphic at the bottom of how I fit in the twelve gifts of christmas.

(heavily unedited)

1st of December

“Fuck, Quinn.” You curse, your back arching as his warm hands run up your spine. You let out a long whine as his fingers dig deeper.

“Baby, it’s just a massage calm down a little.” He chuckles, his knees planted on either side of your hips as his thumbs work on the knots in your back.

His voice is warm and teasing, but you can hear the smile in it, and it makes your heart thrum. You shift slightly beneath him, the ache in your back melting away as his thumbs continue their work.

“Does it feel that good, or are you just desperate?” Quinn murmurs, leaning down so close his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.

You huff, trying to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach. “I didn’t agree with the whole no-touching thing, remember? That was your idea.”

He hums, his hands pausing for a moment before he leans back up, kneading the tight spot between your shoulders with more purpose. “I know, baby. And I also know you’re really bad at being patient.”

“Maybe because you keep doing stuff like this,” you shoot back, craning your neck to look at him. His grin is maddening, smug and knowing, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He looks way too good for your sanity right now.

“Well,” he starts, his tone casual, “I guess it’s a good thing we’re officially done with all that now.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. “Wait—”

Quinn sits back on his heels, sliding his hands down to your waist before flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. The shift knocks the breath out of your lungs, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you.

“Gift one, baby,” he says, his voice lower now, tinged with something darker. His hands stay at your waist, his thumbs brushing against your bare skin. “The first of twelve. Think of it as an apology for making you wait so long.”

Your heart skips a beat, your body buzzing with anticipation as he leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. “Twelve gifts, huh?” you manage to say, your voice trembling just a little.

He grins, his lips finally brushing against yours in the faintest whisper of a kiss. “Twelve gifts to make it up to you—and then some.”

You barely have time to respond before his lips press firmly against yours, the kiss slow and deliberate, like he’s savouring every second. His hands trail up from your waist, skimming your sides until they settle just beneath your ribs. His thumbs stroke the sensitive skin there, sending shivers racing through you.

"Quinn," you breathe against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. He hums in response, deep and satisfied, as if hearing his name like that was exactly what he wanted.

The heat between you builds quickly, each touch, each kiss stoking the fire that had been simmering for far too long. He breaks away just enough to let his forehead rest against yours, his breath coming in soft pants that mirror your own.

“I’ve got big plans for you, you know,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but roughened with desire.

“Oh, yeah?” you reply, tilting your head to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “This your way of saying you’re gonna spend the next month making me regret not jumping you last month?”

“Every few days, like an advent calendar” He corrects, “Can’t have you quitting on me.” His laugh is low and warm, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat straight through you. “Baby, the only thing you’re gonna regret is not asking for thirteen.”

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours again, more insistent this time. His hands roam your body with purpose, his touch igniting every nerve. It’s not rushed, though. No, Quinn is taking his time, making sure every kiss, every brush of his fingers is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of you.

As his hands drift lower, his mouth leaves yours to trail kisses down your jaw, then to your neck, where he nips lightly at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as your body arches into him.

“God, I missed this,” he whispers against your skin, his voice thick with need.

“Then stop teasing me,” you shoot back, your own voice breathy and uneven.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and filled with mischief. “Oh, baby, we’re just getting started. Gift one, remember?”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, and as his lips find yours again, you realise you might not survive twelve days of this. But if this is how Quinn plans to make up for lost time, you’re more than willing to let him try.

3rd of December

“Quinn this really doesn’t seem appropriate.” You hiss, smacking at his hand riding higher up your thigh. You watch with a smile as Quinn’s parents flitter around you house, the two of them pointing out each of the small decorations around the room.

"Appropriate?" Quinn whispers, his voice low and teasing as his fingers continue their slow, deliberate ascent.

"Baby, you were the one who insisted on sitting next to me. What did you expect?" You glare at him, trying to keep your expression neutral as his parents continue their animated conversation across the room.

“I expected you to behave,” you mutter, swatting his hand again, though it doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. “I did not think public nudity was this high on your list.”

“Oh, we’re saving that for gift twelve.” He leans in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I am behaving. You should be thanking me for my restraint right now.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and you quickly glance toward his parents to ensure they haven’t noticed anything. His mom is holding up a snow globe, admiring it with a fond smile, while his dad adjusts one of the stockings hanging on the mantle. Blissfully unaware.

“Quinn,” you warn in a low voice, but it only makes his grin widen. The mischievous glint in his eye is unmistakable, and you know he’s enjoying this far too much.

“What? I’m just helping you get into the holiday spirit,” he replies innocently, though the way his fingers are now tracing slow circles on your thigh suggests otherwise. You reach under the table and grab his wrist, giving it a firm squeeze.

“If you don’t stop, your parents are going to see. Do you really want them to catch you acting like this?”

He chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair like he’s completely unbothered. “Relax, baby. They’re too busy with their little Christmas tour to notice anything.”

You narrow your eyes at him but don’t have a chance to respond before his mom’s voice cuts through the room.

“This place looks so festive!” she exclaims, turning toward you with a warm smile. “You two really went all out with the decorations.”

Quinn flashes her his most charming smile, his hand finally retreating from your thigh to rest on the table. “All her doing, Mum. She’s got a knack for this kind of thing.”

You shoot him a look, trying to mask your relief. “It was a joint effort,” you say modestly, though your tone is a little tighter than usual. “Quinn helped me pick out the tree.”

His dad nods approvingly. “Well, it looks great. Reminds me of our first Christmas together, doesn’t it, hon?” He glances at Quinn’s mom, who immediately launches into a story about their early days of marriage.

As they reminisce, you feel Quinn’s hand slide back onto your thigh under the table, and you barely manage to suppress a groan. He gives your leg a gentle squeeze, his expression perfectly innocent as he listens to his parents. His fingers just grazing the edge of your underwear.

“Quinn,” you whisper sharply, your tone laced with both exasperation and a hint of amusement.

He leans toward you again, his lips quirking up in a small, knowing smile. “Dad, didn’t you say you had that dinner with your old college friends to get to?” His dad perks up at the reminder, glancing to at his watch in surprise before looking over at his wife who nods in acknowledgement, collect her purse from the floor besides the table.

“The house is looking lovely, thank you for helping my Quinn get his stuff in order.” Ellen says softly as she pulls you in for a hug, her hand patting your head gently as she pulls away with a warm smile. You give her a soft nod and a quiet ‘it’s nothing, really.’ Before walking the parents to the door, bidding them a quick farewell as Quinn closes the door from besides you, his hand pushing the hair off the back of your neck as he leans forwards and presses a soft kiss to your neck.

“Do you actually have a list of what you’re doing?” You question as he loops his arms arounds your waist pulling you backwards towards the bedroom, his lips spreading into a smile against your skin.

“No.” He admits, a sigh of relief escaping you as he adds, “It’s an excel spreadsheet.”

You groan, half in exasperation, half in laughter, as Quinn tightens his hold around your waist, nudging you gently down the hall. His breath is warm against your neck, and the smug grin in his voice is unmistakable.

“An Excel spreadsheet, Quinn? Seriously?”

“What can I say? I like to stay organised.” His tone is casual, but the way his hands slide under the hem of your sweater is anything but. You swat at his wandering fingers again, though with far less conviction this time.

“Organised is colour-coding the Christmas bins, not...whatever this is.”

“Baby,” he murmurs, steering you into the bedroom, “this is next-level holiday cheer. You should appreciate my dedication.” You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

“If I open that spreadsheet and see formulas, I’m leaving.”

“Too late now,” he teases, spinning you around and pressing you gently back onto the bed. “You’re already committed to the program.” Your retort dies on your lips as Quinn leans down, his hands bracketing your hips, his face inches from yours. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes has softened, replaced by something warmer, more intimate.

“Quinn,” you start, your voice quieter now, less teasing. “What are you up to?”

“Just making sure we keep the spirit of the season alive,” he replies, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His lips ghost over yours, not quite kissing, just close enough to make your breath hitch. “ gift three should be a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“Does it involve a pivot table?” you manage to ask, your voice shaky with barely contained laughter. He grins, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that wipes away any further attempts at sarcasm. “No spreadsheets tonight,” he whispers against your lips. “Promise.”

You sigh dramatically as he pulls you closer, his weight warm and comforting. “I guess I can make an exception. But if I find a ‘Day 12’ PowerPoint presentation, we’re having a serious talk.”

Quinn chuckles, his laughter vibrating through your chest as he trails kisses along your jaw. “Noted. Now stop stalling. We’ve got a new holiday tradition to uphold.” Quinn’s lips catch yours again, his hands moving up to brace against either side of your head, his body slotting between your legs as he presses his hips to yours.

“You better make this worth my while.” You say quickly, his hips pushing against yours at an agonising pace, his lips making their way down your jaw till the find the pulse point on your neck, sucking harshly against the skin.

“It’ll be worth it.” He agrees, his hips speeding up their movements against yours, your skirt riding up to sit against your waist - the zipper of his jeans pressing deliciously against your clit as he thrusts, “But today is not that day.” He groans as he puts away, a soft wet patch on the front of his jeans, your legs falling open against the bed as you let out a long sigh.

“This fucking edging is going to kill me.” You hiss, watching as Quinn lets out a maniacal laugh.

“That’s wasn’t on the list.” He says quickly.

“Oh my god, you actually have a spreadsheet, don’t you?” You groan in disbelief.

“You don’t even know the extent I’ve gone to.” He says quickly, “We’ve barely even gotten started.”

6th of December

You’re elbow-deep in a mixing bowl, trying to salvage the dough that Quinn somehow managed to over-flour, when he appears behind you, his arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Smells good in here,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the curve of your neck. His voice is warm, and the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to get a trauma response every time you sneak up behind me.” You scold, throwing a playful glare over your shoulder. Quinn just smiles before asking, “What’re you making?”

“It’s cookies,” you reply, trying to sound unimpressed even as your pulse quickens. “Not exactly groundbreaking.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one making them,” he counters smoothly, his hands slipping beneath your apron to rest on your hips.

“Flattery will not save you,” you warn, squirming slightly as his fingers start to knead into your sides. “You’re still on dough-duty.”

“Hmm, dough-duty,” Quinn muses, his tone teasing as he presses himself a little closer, his body warm against yours. “Sounds like you’re just trying to keep me distracted.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heart is pounding as you flick a bit of flour over your shoulder in his direction. “Distracted? You’re the one whos turning my kitchen into a war zone.”

Quinn laughs, dodging the flour with ease. “Okay, fair. But you’re not exactly playing fair either, baby. You know this apron does things to me.”

You glance down at the plain, slightly flour-dusted apron and raise an eyebrow. “It’s literally the least sexy thing I own.”

“Speak for yourself,” he replies, his hands sliding lower until they rest dangerously close to the curve of your backside. “I’m a simple man with simple tastes.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to focus on rolling the dough out onto the counter. But the moment his lips press a soft kiss just behind your ear, your hands falter.

“Quinn, I swear—”

“Swear what?” he interrupts, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your knees weak. “You gonna stop me?”

You inhale sharply, turning your head to glare at him. But the smug grin on his face only makes your resolve crumble. “Yes,” you say, though it comes out far less convincing than you’d hoped.

“Oh, yeah?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing just beneath the edge of your sweater. You let out a soft gasp, the rolling pin slipping from your fingers and clattering onto the counter.

“Quinn,” you hiss, your tone a mix of exasperation and barely contained laughter. “I’m trying to bake here.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you stay properly motivated,” he counters, his grin widening as his hands trail back down, this time tugging lightly at the hem of your apron.

Your retort dies on your lips as he spins you around, pinning you gently against the counter. His hands plant themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you in place as he leans in, his nose brushing against yours.

“Five days in,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with mischief. “Think you can handle seven more of this?”

Your breath catches, the air between you crackling with tension. “I’m starting to think I won’t survive.”

Quinn’s grin turns wicked, his lips ghosting over yours in the faintest of kisses. “Good,” he whispers, his hands sliding to your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Because I’ve got plans for you, baby. Big ones.”

Your heart races as he tilts his head, his mouth finally claiming yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, leaving you breathless. Just as you’re about to lose yourself in the moment, he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief.

“Now,” he says, stepping back and grabbing the rolling pin off the counter like he hadn’t just rendered you a breathless, flustered mess. “How about I actually help with these cookies?”

You gape at him, your body still buzzing from his touch as he starts flattening the dough with a look of pure innocence.

“You’re evil,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you try to collect yourself.

“And yet,” he says, flashing you a grin, “you keep letting me in the kitchen.” He continues to tease, spinning you back around to face the counter, his hand dipping into the waist band of your pyjama pants, his fingers toying with the trim of your underwear before dipping beneath those too.

“God, the surprising seems to be working.” He snorts, his fingers dipping between your folds, your knees almost buckling beneath you as his free hand splays against your stomach to hold your upright. “You’re soaking, baby.” You can hear the smile on his lips, his finger slipping up and down between your folds, the slick sound starting to feel the air.

“Quinn, I swear to god if you don’t let me finish, I will turn you into a cookie.” You hiss, your hands stopping their motions to brace against the counter, your head falling forwards as he dips a tentative finger inside of you.

“As long as you’re the one eating me up.” Quinn retorts, a second finger joining the first as he pumps in and out, your hands digging as far into the counter as they can, Quinn’s hand the only thing keeping you steady as his speeds up his movements, the wet sounds of his fingers filling the almost silent room.

“Fuck, Quinn.” You hiss, your lips digging into your bottom lip as you throw your head back — “I’m so fucking close.” You feel his fingers start to slow as you clench around him.

“You better keep fucking going.” You snarl, your hips thrusting forwards against his fingers, “I’m not kidding Quinn.” Quinn lets out another laugh before his fingers speed up again, your orgasm hitting you like a train after his last two attempts at teasing you.

“I fucking hate you so much sometimes.” You pant, as you leans against the counter, watching as Quinn pulls his fingers from your pants, dipping them into his mouth.

“Your cookie tastes great, baby.”

9thth of December

The living room glows with the soft twinkle of Christmas lights, their reflection dancing in the windows against the dark December evening. You and Quinn are cocooned on the couch, sharing a thick blanket. Empty mugs of hot chocolate sit abandoned on the coffee table, remnants of marshmallows clinging to the rims. On the TV, Elf is mid-chaos, Buddy the Elf wreaking sugary havoc in a department store.

Quinn shifts closer, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Why is it colder in here than outside?”

You shoot him a sidelong glance. “Because someone said turning on the heat ‘dulls the spirit of winter.’”

“I didn’t think I’d need a survival kit to get through it,” he mutters, his socked feet nudging against yours under the blanket.

“You’re the one who insists on authenticity,” you remind him, but you pull the blanket up higher, offering him a grudging sliver of extra warmth.

Quinn doesn’t stop there, though. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and before you can protest, he tugs you closer until your head rests against his chest.

“Really?” you ask, your voice dry as you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What? I’m freezing,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Besides, this is festive. Snuggling and all that.”

Your eyes narrow, but you don’t pull away. “Convenient excuse.”

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin widening. His other hand sneaks beneath the blanket, resting casually on your thigh, the warmth of his palm sinking through your leggings. The movie continues, but you’re barely paying attention now. Quinn’s thumb brushes idly against your leg, a small, repetitive motion that’s impossible to ignore. You shift slightly, but it only makes his grip more deliberate.

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Very,” he replies, his voice dropping into something softer, more suggestive. “Why? Aren’t you?” You can feel the tension in the air shift.

“Depends,” you say, keeping your tone neutral as you look back at the screen. “Are you planning to stay glued to my side all night?”

Quinn leans closer, his breath brushing against your ear. “Maybe. Is that a problem?” Your stomach twists, a mixture of annoyance and something harder to admit. You keep your eyes on the TV, but your body betrays you, leaning just slightly into his warmth.

“Only if you start stealing my share of the blanket,” you reply, injecting your voice with faux annoyance to mask the way your pulse has quickened.

Quinn chuckles softly, his lips grazing the edge of your temple in a way that feels far more deliberate than casual.

“Deal.”

For a moment, the only sound is Buddy the Elf shouting about Christmas spirit, but the tension between you lingers, humming beneath the surface.

When Quinn finally speaks, his tone is lighter, teasing, but the undercurrent is still there. “You know, I’d make a great elf. Probably even better than Buddy.”

You snort, grateful for the shift. “That’s bold. I’m not sure you’re up for the sugar diet.”

“I’d find a way to make it work,” he replies, his grin mischievous. “And I know I look good in tights.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder lightly. “Delusional.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, his hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze before he withdraws it, much to your mixed relief and disappointment. “But you’d love it anyway.” Your laugh is softer now, the tension between the two of you growing as Quinn makes no moves to take anything further.

“Quinn, what’s on your spreadsheet for gift three?” You ask curiously as you watch Buddy the Elf and his brother in a snowball fight.

“Why?” Quinn questions back, a knowing smile growing on his face as he fingers continue their soft stroking against your legs, “You anticipating something?” You shoot him a quick glare before settling back against the couch your arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Not anymore.” You mumble to yourself, Quinn raising his brow in surprise at your snark, smiling over at your one more time before he dips under the large blanket, sliding off the couch as to the floor in from of you. You shiver as Quinn’s breath ghosts over the damp patch on your panties, the contrast of his warm touch against the cool air setting your skin ablaze. The blanket overhead forms a cocoon, insulating the two of you from the rest of the world, but all you can focus on is the way his hands roam your thighs, spreading you open with a confidence that steals your breath.

“What are you doing?” you ask, though your voice comes out softer than intended, betraying the cocktail of anticipation and arousal coursing through you.

“Gift three,” Quinn replies, his voice muffled but laced with that familiar teasing edge. His fingers slide slowly up the curve of your legs, brushing over your hips as he pushes your nightgown higher, exposing more of your skin to his exploration. You try to maintain some semblance of composure, but the sensation of his touch is magnetic, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

When his fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, dragging them down inch by excruciating inch, you can’t stop the gasp that escapes you. The cool air hits your now-bared skin, a stark reminder of just how exposed you are. Quinn shifts, guiding your legs further apart as he kisses a slow path along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and deliberate, each touch igniting sparks under your skin.

“Quinn,” you murmur, your voice a mix of exasperation and need. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t what?” he interrupts, his words brushing hot against your skin. “Show my girlfriend a little Christmas cheer?” There’s a hint of a smirk in his tone, but any retort you might have planned dies on your lips when his mouth finally meets you, his tongue making a slow, deliberate stroke that has your head tipping back against the couch.

Your fingers clutch at the blanket above him, seeking something to anchor you as he works. His tongue moves in practiced motions, alternating between firm, focused pressure and lighter, teasing flicks that leave you trembling. His hands remain on your thighs, holding you open with a firm yet gentle grip, grounding you as he explores every inch of you with a devotion that has your chest heaving.

“Oh my God,” you breathe, your hips lifting instinctively to meet his mouth. Quinn hums against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body. He takes his time, savouring every reaction he pulls from you, his movements both methodical and maddeningly sensual.

“Gift three,” he murmurs between strokes, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, “is definitely shaping up to be my favourite.

You can’t hold back the soft moan that slips free, your fingers diving under the blanket to thread into his hair, urging him closer. He responds with a chuckle, the sound low and confident, before redoubling his efforts. His tongue moves in perfect rhythm, circling and stroking in ways that leave you teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body strung tight. “Keep watching the movie, baby.” He coos.

Your breathing grows ragged as the tension in your core builds, your legs trembling against his shoulders. “Quinn,” you gasp, his name a plea as the pleasure becomes too much to bear. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even falter, his mouth working you through every moment until the world splinters apart. You cry out, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you, leaving you shuddering and breathless. Quinn stays with you, his hands stroking your thighs in a soothing rhythm as he presses a final, reverent kiss against your skin.

When he finally emerges from beneath the blanket, his hair is deliciously tousled, his lips glistening with evidence of his handiwork. That signature smirk is firmly in place as he climbs back onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his arms as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You’re ridiculous,” you murmur, your voice soft and shaky as you bury your face against his chest, the warmth of his body grounding you.

“And yet,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “you’re the one who puts up with me.” You huff out a breathless laugh, your cheeks still burning as the festive chaos of Elf continues to play in the background, the two of you breathing a little harder as you turn towards him.

“So is that it? You just eat me out and then we pretend like nothing happened?” You question, your brows furrowing as you lift your hand to swipe the moisture of your boyfriend’s mouth.

“Yep.” He just smiles, leaning forwards to take your wet fingers into his mouth, sucking them off with a pop before leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “Don’t worry too much, gift four is going to be for both of us.”

12th of December

The morning arrives with a soft dusting of snow blanketing the world outside, the frost glinting like powdered sugar on the windowpanes. Inside, the warmth of the living room is a stark contrast to the chill, the faint smell of pine from the Christmas tree mingling with the remnants of coffee and toasted bagels. Quinn stands at the kitchen counter, his hair still a little messy from sleep, as he fiddles with his phone.

"You’re on that thing again?" you tease from your spot on the couch, bundled up in an oversized sweater and fuzzy socks. "Plotting world domination or just reorganising your already over-planned spreadsheet?"

Quinn glances up, grinning that lopsided grin that always gets to you. "Neither. Just checking off ‘make girlfriend coffee’ from Day Nine’s list." He sets the phone down and gestures toward the steaming mug on the side table next to you. “I have to do some readjusting to make up for the road trips coming up.” He explains with a smile.

You roll your eyes, though your lips twitch upward. "Convenient. What's next? Snow angels in the yard?"

"Not quite," he says, crossing the room with a deliberate saunter that makes your heart stutter. “Gift four is a bit more… hands-on."

You arch a brow, setting your mug down as he stops in front of you, his grin widening. "Hands-on how?"

Quinn doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reaches out, his fingers threading through your hair in a way that feels casual yet charged with unspoken intent. He gives a gentle tug, tilting your face up toward his, and your breath catches.

"Something like this," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb brushes against your jawline.

Your pulse quickens as the air between you grows thick with tension. "You’ve been watching too many rom-coms," you quip, though your voice wavers slightly.

"Maybe," he admits, his grin softening but his hold on your hair remaining firm. "But I don’t think Hugh Grant ever did this."

Before you can retort, Quinn leans down, his lips hovering just above yours. The moment stretches, electric and teasing, until he finally closes the distance. His kiss is slow but insistent, the kind that leaves you breathless and clutching at his shirt to stay anchored.

When he pulls back, he tugs on your hair just enough to make your head tilt back further, exposing the curve of your neck. “Gift four,” he says softly, his lips brushing against your skin, "is going to be hard and fast.”

Your laugh is shaky, a mix of nervousness and anticipation. "Is that your way of saying I should be worried?"

Quinn chuckles, his breath warm against your collarbone. "Not worried. Excited."

Quinn’s lips curl into a teasing smile as he pulls back, his fingers still gently wrapped around a strand of your hair. You feel a spark of both irritation and excitement at the way he’s controlling the moment, making it feel like time is stretching just for the two of you. His grin never falters as he studies your face, waiting for your reaction.

"Excited, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I guess you’ll find out soon enough."

You swallow, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. There's something about the way he's looking at you—like he's already imagining every moment ahead.

"You’re insufferable," you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel. "You can’t just drag me into this with vague promises."

Quinn chuckles softly, but there’s an edge to it. He’s enjoying the control, the way you’re practically trembling under his gaze.

"Oh, I think I can," he replies smoothly. "Because when it’s number four, the rules are a little different." He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he stands up, extending a hand toward you with a look that is half challenge, half invitation.

"Come on," he says, his voice dropping just a little. "Let’s take this somewhere a little more... private." Your heart skips a beat, the mix of nerves and curiosity making your pulse race. You hesitate for a moment, but then the sight of his unrelenting grin has you pushing off the couch, your hand slipping into his. He leads you through the kitchen, his fingers intertwined with yours, the tension palpable with each step. The rest of the world seems to fade, leaving only the soft sounds of your breathing and the weight of Quinn’s touch. As you reach the bedroom door, he pauses. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, sending a shiver up your spine. He looks at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if checking that you’re ready.

"Are you sure you want to keep going?" he asks softly, but there’s no mistaking the way his words hold an edge of amusement.mYou swallow, fighting the urge to back down. There’s something magnetic about him right now, something about the way he’s drawing you in with such ease, making you feel like you’re walking toward something inevitable.

"Just get in here already," you snap, the teasing now on your lips. Quinn’s smile deepens, and with one smooth motion, he pulls the door open, guiding you inside. The quiet of the room feels charged, as though the moment itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. You turn, but before you can say anything else, Quinn is right there—close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands find your waist, pulling you toward him with a force that makes your breath catch.

You look up at him, your heart pounding as you meet his eyes—dark and intent, full of a desire that makes the air between you feel thick and heavy.

“You wanted to know what your gift is all about,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. Before you can respond, he’s kissing you, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate hunger that takes you completely by surprise. There’s no teasing this time, no games. Just the raw, urgent need that’s been simmering between you both.

His hands roam, one settling at the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulls you even closer. You feel the firm press of his body against yours, the solid warmth of him that makes it impossible to think straight. Your back meets the wall with a soft thud, but Quinn doesn’t stop—his lips moving over yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless, your hands instinctively gripping at his shirt.

You tilt your head back, gasping for air as his mouth moves down to your neck, his kisses hot and urgent, like he can’t get enough. His free hand traces the curve of your body, his touch leaving trails of fire wherever it lands. It’s almost too much, but you don’t want it to stop.

“Quinn...” you breathe, the name slipping from your lips in a mix of desire and need. He groans softly at the sound of your voice, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaves another trail of kisses along your collarbone. His hand moves lower, finding the hem of your sweater, pushing it up slowly, deliberately, as if giving you time to pull away, but you don’t. You stay frozen, your heart racing as the tension between you grows thicker.

His lips find yours again in a desperate, needy kiss, as if he’s finally giving in to something he’s been holding back. There’s no softness now—only the heat of the moment, the weight of everything you’ve both been holding back crashing into the space between you. His body presses you harder into the wall, the raw intensity of the kiss leaving you breathless and craving more.

“You’re so damn distracting,” Quinn murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with barely restrained hunger.

“You started it,” you manage, a teasing note in your voice despite the pounding of your heart. He chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating through you, before his lips find yours again, hungry and fierce. There’s no space between you now, no thoughts beyond the electric pull between you.

“I need you as wet as possible.” Quinn murmurs against your, his hips pressing against yours as you try to grind against him wanting any relief you can find. “I want to be able to slip in easily.” His words are hot against your skin as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a soft strip of black fabric.

“I was going to save this for gift five but I think we can push it forwards a little.” Quinn says quietly as he steps away from you, your throat bobbing at the sight of the blindfold “Do you want it?” He asks an eyebrow raised as he watches you glance between him and the blindfold, you nod slowly Quinn breaking out in a broad smile. “Get on the bed then.” He says quickly, your oversized shirt swaying against your thighs as you shuffle over to the bed, perching on the edge.

“Hands and knees, baby.” He corrects, your head just nodding as you climb further onto the bed, settling into the position. Quinn slips behind you, reaching over to pull the blindfold across your eyes. You let out a stuttered breath as your eyesight is taken from you, your fingers gripping the bedsheet beneath you.

“Do you think you’re wet for me?” He asks softly, your head nodding as your words escape you. “How wet?” He questions.

“Dripping.” You respond, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as you feel Quinn hands slide up your sides, dragging your t-shirt up and over your ass, exposing your definitely damp underwear to him, your back arching slightly as his warm palms dig into your sides.

“I think you’re ready.” He agrees, his hands smoothing back over your ass before roughly ripping your underwear, ripping them down your legs till they sit at your knees, your bare ass and pussy exposed to him. “Perfect.” You hear him mumble as you hear further ruffling of fabric, and the sound of plastic being ripped open. “Tell me if you’re getting overwhelmed.” He whispers, one hand rubbing up and down your spine as you feel his cock poke against your entrance, sliding through your wetness a few times, a soft groan leaving you as he slides inside.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groans, both of his hands digging into your hips as he pulls out and pumps back in, his movements slow and precise. “I’ve missed being inside of you.” He adds, your body shivering as his speed increases slightly.

“Me too.” You hum, your teeth gritting as you feel one of Quinns hands leave you hips, the fingers just barely grazing up your back before the fiddle with the ends of your hair.

“Am I not pleasing you enough, princess?” Quinn asks, his hand grabbing a chunk of your hair, wrenching your head back, as he leans over your body, his hips pausing in the movements, bottomed out inside of you. “Say it again.” He grumbles, littering soft kisses against your neck as he waits.

Dominant Quinn was never something you were used to. Your boyfriend usually preferring to keep your intimate moments soft and gentle - apart from the occasional angry fuck. “I said I miss you being inside of me.” You repeat with a little more conviction, “It feels so good.” You add quickly, seeming to please Quinn as he pulls himself back into a standing position his hips slamming into you at a furious pace as he wraps your hair around his hand, keeping a tight hold as your arms collapse out from under you, soft whimpers leaving you as his free hand wraps around gently rubbing against your clit, your pussy clenching around him desperately as you ride out your high.

Quinn comes soon after, his body falling on top of yours as he whispers soft praise in you ear, pressing kisses against your hair before pulling out and discarding the condom. “I’ll only be gone for a few days and then the twelves days of christmas will be back.” Quinn jokes, pulling your shirt back down over your hips as you roll to face him, a light smile on your face.

“That’s not what I’m going to miss.” You coo, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before sliding off the mattress, retrieving your underwear from the floor, “But maybe one more round before you have to go?” You tease, Quinn wasting no time in leaping off the mattress.

17th of December

“Yeah I’m on the way to the arena now to pick you up.” You say into your speaker - the phone currently connected to your car’s bluetooth - Quinn’s voice carrying through.

“Okay they said the bus should be there in about thirty minutes.” Quinn says with a long sigh - the Canucks had lost their game earlier today and to say Quinn was disappointed was an understatement. “So, mr spreadsheet do we have anything on our agenda for tonight?” You say quickly, trying to switch the attention to something other then the loss they had earlier in the night. You clock said it was around 2am in the morning as tired as you were you knew Quinn would be ten times more exhausted.

“I did have plans but the high stick might change somethings.” Quinn huffs, his words mumbled more than usual.

“Quinn we don’t need your mouth to have fun.” You coo, as you can almost see the smile spreading across his face as he lets out a soft chuckle followed by a sharp hiss. “How bad is it?” You ask next, you had watched the game and has seen the blood splattering on the ice after Quinn’s high stick to the face - he had been messaging you from the locker room while they stitched him up, telling you not to worry but the furious expression on his face when he returned to the game was enough to tell you that it hurt.

“I have to go, coach is about to give us a speech.” Quinn chuckles lowly into the phone, and you promise you’ll be waiting once the bus arrives at the arena. The two of you hang up, your car beginning to play your music again as you make the short drive to the arena, parking in the underground lot where the bus usually dropped them off after a road trip - scrolling through your phone as you wait for your boyfriends arrival.

It wasn’t long before the bus pulled into the lot, its tires hissing against the pavement. You glanced up from your phone just as the doors opened and the team began filing out. A few players waved at you as they passed, murmuring tired goodnights. Then, finally, you spotted Quinn.

He moved slower than usual, his bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His head was down, the brim of his hat shadowing his face. As he approached the car, you got out to meet him, your heart squeezing when you caught a glimpse of his swollen, stitched-up lip.

“Hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your tone light. “How’s my favourite spreadsheet nerd?” Quinn’s gaze flicked up to meet yours briefly before darting away.

“Still in one piece,” he muttered, his voice quiet and a little raspy. You reached out to take his bag, and he hesitated before letting you, his fingers brushing yours for a moment. He stood there awkwardly, his shoulders hunched slightly, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

“Quinn,” you said gently, stepping closer. He looked up at you fully then, and the vulnerability in his expression nearly broke you. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, tugging his hat lower.

“Quinn,” you repeated, a little firmer this time. You raised a hand to his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. He stiffened at first but didn’t pull away. “Please?” He sighed, a quiet, resigned sound, and let you tilt his face toward the faint glow of the overhead lights. Your heart clenched at the sight of the angry red stitches running along his top lip.

“Oh, babe,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of concern. “Does it hurt?”

“It’s not that bad,” he said, but the way his eyes shifted told you otherwise.

“You don’t have to play tough with me,” you said, your thumb now tracing the line of his jaw. “You’re allowed to say it hurts.”

Quinn’s ears turned a little pink, and he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. “It’s just...ugly,” he muttered. “You don’t need to look at it.”

Your heart melted at his words. “Quinn Hughes,” you said, stepping even closer, “you could be missing a tooth and have a black eye, and you’d still be the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen.”

A small, reluctant smile tugged at his good side of his mouth. “You’re just saying that.”

“I mean it,” you insisted, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers brushing softly through the strands. “But we can clean you up when we get home. Deal?” Quinn finally met your eyes again, and though he still looked a little self-conscious, there was a warmth there that made your chest feel light. “Deal,” he said quietly.

You smiled, leaning up to press a feather-light kiss to his temple, careful not to jostle him. “Come on, let’s get you home.” The drive home is almost silent, Quinn sitting in the passenger seat, his head pressed against the cool window, his hand gripping yours as the radio sings soft christmas carols, the snow falling outside the car.

“So what was going to be your plan for gift eight?” You ask, your fingers squeezing against Quinns as you pull the car into your parking spot - the two of you releasing each other to slide out of the car and make your way to the elevator.

“Nothing I could partake in tonight anyway.” Quinn sulks, his hand finding yours again.

“You’re right, maybe you’re better off not participating in anything at the moment.” You laugh and Quinn huffs a quiet laugh, the sound a little muffled by his injury. “You’re right. Probably not my smartest move.”

The elevator dings, and you both step out, heading toward your apartment door. Once inside, the warmth of the space envelops you, chasing away the lingering chill from outside. Quinn sets his bag down by the door, his movements slow and deliberate, and you can see the exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket.

“Go have a shower, I’ll pack up your stuff.” You say quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek before pushing him towards the bathroom. “I’ve got it.” You reassure him.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, glancing over his shoulder at you as he made his way toward the bathroom. "You sure you don’t mind?"

"Of course not," you replied with a soft smile. "Go on, I’ll be right here when you’re done."

As the sound of water began echoing through the apartment, you busied yourself tidying up the small messes Quinn had left in his usual spots—his sneakers haphazardly kicked off near the door, his coat draped over the back of the couch. You stacked his belongings neatly and set out a fresh pair of sweats and one of his soft hoodies on the bed. But as you finished, the quiet worry bubbling in your chest drew you toward the bathroom.

The steam wafting out from under the door carried the faint scent of Quinn’s body wash, and you knocked softly.

“Baby?”

"Yeah?" His voice was a little clearer now, though still tired.

"You doing okay in there?"

There was a pause before he answered. "Yeah, I’m good." But you knew him better than that.

Without waiting for an invitation, you pushed the door open a crack. The warmth of the bathroom enveloped you, the mirror fogged, and the sound of water pattering against the tile filled the air. Through the frosted glass, you could make out Quinn’s silhouette, his shoulders hunched as he stood under the spray.

"You sure?It’s been like half an hour?” you asked, stepping inside and closing the door softly behind you. The faint click of the latch drew his attention, and he turned his head slightly, just enough to see you through the glass.

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to," you interrupted gently, already peeling off your sweater and jeans. He watched you for a moment longer before nodding and turning back to the water. When you slid open the door to step in, the warm water hit your skin, making you shiver slightly before you adjusted. Quinn glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes soft but tired. You reached out to brush a hand lightly over his back, feeling the tension there.

"Hey," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the water. “Give me the loofa.” He didn’t protest as you grabbed the bottle of body wash and worked it into a lather, your hands gentle as they moved over his shoulders and down his back. He let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh, the tightness in his posture easing under your touch.

Quinn lets out a soft sigh as he leans his head forwards against the wall, letting you works the suds over his body, your fingers replacing the loofa on occasion to push against the tight muscles, blossoming bruises in random spots on his soft skin. “I know something that might make you feel better.” You coo, stepping back as Quinn turns around a frown on his face, the warm water running down his chest.

“What do you mea— oh, oh.” Quinn stutters as you drop to your knees. Quinns eyes are wide as he watches you reach upwards, your hand slowly grazing over his semi hard cock as you wrap your hand around it, pumping it slowly as it hardens fully. You glance up at him as you take him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you feel him touch the back of your throat, his hand bracing on either side of the shower as he lets out a string of curses.

“Fuck.” He curses as you bob your head on his dick, your mouth coming off with a pop as you glide your tongue up the underside, Quinn thighs trembling slightly as you take him back in your mouth. You hand brace on his thighs as you take as much of him as you can fit into your mouth before pulling back and repeating the process. “Your mouth feels so good.” He groans, his green eyes flashing as he watches your hand wrap around his cock, pumping in the same way your hand was, the shower still running over his back as you glance up at him.

“Come in my mouth, Quinn.” You whisper, letting your mouth fall open, as you pump him faster, his hips stuttering forwards as the precum begins to leak from his tip, your thumb collecting it as using it as lubricant as your squeeze the base of his dick, Quinn letting out a low groan as his hips jerk one more time, his cum landing on your tongue as you leans forwards to clean him up.

“You know Santa is watching as I think that would put you on the naughty list.” Quinn jokes with a tired smile, wincing once again as it pulls on his stitches. You smile back, pushing yourself up from the floor, Quinn’s hands reaching out to steady you.

“Well I guess you’re going to have to write him a letter about how super duper nice I’ve been this year.” You tease back, stealing the still soapy loofa from besides him to wash of any remnants of your showering activities. “Feeling any better?” You ask, with a quirk of your eyebrow, Quinn’s head nodding quickly.

“So much better.”

20th of December

“We just need one more thing for your brothers and then we’re done.” You say quickly, glancing down at the shopping list you were holding. “Luke still requested the apple headphones.” You stifle a laugh as Quinn lets out a long groan, his hands tightly knotted in the back of your sweater as you make your way to the Apple Store.

“I don’t understand why he wants them for christmas, he makes enough money to buy them himself.” Quinn complains, and you nod in agreement but find Lukes innocence around christmas refreshing compared to the rest of the families requests.

“Yeah but we know how Luke is with money, he prefers to pretend it doesn’t exist because it just makes him nervous.” You explain, nodding a quick hello to the worker at the entrance as you drag your boyfriend over to the display of headphones. “He said he wanted the blue?” You say, reaching towards the metallic coloured headphone looking over them before comparing them to the photo the youngest Hughes has sent.

Quinns hand tugs on the back of your sweater as the shop worker approaches, his free hand making quick work of pulling his hood up and over his head, pulling the cap he was wearing further down to hide his face better.

“Hello, is there anything I can help you with today?” The worker asks quickly, his gaze shooting between you and your now criminal looking boyfriend.

“Uh, we were hoping to get a pair of these sky blue AirPod max, it’s for my brother-in-law.” You explain quickly the workers eyes lighting up as he nods quickly, moving to punch some buttons in the tablet in his hand.

“I’ll make sure we have one out the back for you.” He says quickly, hovering silently as he waits for the response on his iPad. “You know your boyfriend seems really familiar.”

You freeze for a moment, Quinn’s hand tightening on the back of your sweater, pulling you slightly closer to him as if that could make him blend into the surroundings. His posture straightens, and he ducks his head a little more, eyes narrowing at the worker.

“Oh, uh, yeah. He’s a—” You start, but Quinn’s quiet voice cuts you off.

“Can we just get the headphones?” His tone is polite but curt, and it’s obvious he’s trying to avoid attention. The worker, however, seems not to pick up on Quinn’s discomfort, his eyes still flicking back and forth between the two of you.

“Sorry,” the worker continues, his voice a little too loud now, “it’s just, you really look like Quinn Hughes. The hockey player, right?” Quinn’s face tightens slightly. He doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes flicking to you quickly for a silent moment, before turning back to the worker with a small, forced smile. You can see him trying to mask the irritation behind his eyes, but it’s clear he’s not in the mood for attention today.

“Yeah,” he says flatly, rubbing his hand over the cut on his lip absentmindedly. The large, red gash across his upper lip is still healing, and it’s clear he’s not thrilled with the idea of having it photographed or discussed.

“Oh wow, that’s so cool! Can I get a picture with you? My girlfriend’s gonna freak out when I show her!” The worker says excitedly, completely missing the discomfort radiating off Quinn. You feel Quinn stiffen beside you. He shifts his weight uneasily, glancing briefly at the worker before looking back at you. He’s clearly trying to avoid drawing any more attention to himself. The large cut on his lip is still fresh, and the last thing he wants right now is to have a picture taken that could end up all over social media.

“Umm. now is not really a good time.” You say quickly, “with the high stick and everything he’s a little shy.” You whisper as you lean towards the worker, the worker nods quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket sending Quinn an apologetic smile.

“My bad, your headphones should be up at the counter when you’re ready.” The worker says quickly rushing away as you turn to Quinn, who’s pouting as he had been all day.

“Suck it up princess, we’re almost done.” You say, dragging him towards the counter, the man saying nothing but passing you his credit card as the cashier rings up the present. Quinn doesn’t say anything as you finish paying for the headphones, but his posture stays tense, his lips still curled into a faint scowl. The cashier hands you the bag with the carefully wrapped headphones inside, and you shoot Quinn a sympathetic look.

“Almost there, I swear,” you mutter, gently tugging on his sleeve as you make your way toward the exit.

Quinn grumbles in response, but it’s softer this time, and his hand loosens from the back of your sweater. He looks over at you, his brow furrowing just a little. “Why do we even bother with these shopping trips? You know I hate them.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Because it’s Christmas, and you're stuck with me. Besides, it’s part of the whole thing—giving, shopping, the stress, the fake smiles.” You nudge him playfully. “And you do love getting gifts for people, deep down.” Quinn hums in thought, but doesn’t argue as you both make your way toward the next shop on your list. His hand slips into yours, his earlier discomfort forgotten as you settle into the rhythm of your shared Christmas errands. The next store is a local record shop, which Quinn had insisted you add to your list despite the fact it was not part of the original plan. As you enter, the familiar smell of vinyl and incense hits you, and Quinn’s eyes light up, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself, as if the entire world had righted itself with the simple presence of music. You roll your eyes with a smile, watching as he gravitates toward the “New Releases” section with that spark of genuine interest that only comes with a record store visit.

“Just one album, right?” You call after him, hands on your hips. He turns, offering you a small, sheepish grin. “Maybe two,” he says innocently, but you know him well enough to understand it’ll be more like five by the time he’s done browsing. After a few minutes, you find yourself scanning the racks with him, picking up random albums you know you won’t buy but enjoying the process all the same. You finally pull out a few albums that you think Luke might appreciate and hand them to Quinn, who takes them without question, his brows knitting together as he examines each one carefully.

“This one’s good, right?” You ask, holding up a record by one of Jack’s favourite bands. He shrugs noncommittally, though his smile grows a little.

“Could be worse,” he replies dryly, before he adds, “Jack’s not hard to buy for. He’ll love it.”

You beam. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

“I guess,” Quinn murmurs, slipping the vinyls into a bag and leading the way to the counter. By the time you’re both done, it’s dark outside, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the snow that’s started to fall more heavily. You loop your arm through his as you step out into the cold, making your way toward the car.

“So,” you start, glancing at him with a mischievous smile, “now that we’ve officially survived the shopping trip, I’ve got one more question.”

Quinn’s eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. “What’s that?”

You glance at the bag of headphones in your hand, then back at him. “What are you getting me for Christmas?” Quinn shrugs his shoulders, as you both slide into the car, doing up your seatbelts before Quinn pulls out of your parking spot.

“Why? My gifts so far haven’t been good enough?” Quinn questions teasingly, “I might have one you can open a few days early?” He suggests, your face lighting up in excitement, Quinn had learnt early on in your relationship to prepare a gift for you to open early to help you get through the Christmas Day without snooping. Last year he had let you open a box set of the book series you had been talking about for weeks - it kept you occupied all the way to christmas.

“Oh, is it something fun?” You ask.

“You could say that.” He agrees, quickly adding, “Its small and pink and goes buzz.” He lets out a soft chuckle at his own inside joke your head spinning with ideas until it hits you.

“Quintin Jerome Hughes, did you get me a vibrator for christmas?” Quinn lets out a startled laugh, nearly swerving the car as he tries to compose himself. His eyes flicker to you, wide with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

“What? No, I—” He cuts himself off, glancing back at the road, and you can practically hear his thoughts racing. “I didn’t get you that... but maybe I did get you something that could buzz, if you know what I mean.” You raise an eyebrow, unable to suppress your smirk. You know that tone. The mischievous, half-embarrassed one that only shows up when Quinn's being playfully coy.

“Quinn Hughes, did you really just say that?” You lean forward, eyes narrowing in teasing disbelief. “Are you telling me that the early Christmas gift you’ve been hinting at is… a vibrator?” Quinn’s cheeks flush a deep shade of red, and he makes a hasty glance at the rearview mirror, then back at the road.

“I—uh—I mean, I didn’t say it was that, but you’re not exactly wrong.” You burst into laughter, head thrown back as you catch a glimpse of his sheepish smile. He’s trying, and failing, to act casual. The tension in his shoulders tells you all you need to know—he’s definitely embarrassed, but he’s also clearly enjoying the effect his little tease is having on you.

“Quinn, I swear.” You laugh, nudging his shoulder playfully with yours. “I never would’ve guessed. I thought you were going to be all romantic and give me something sentimental—like, a photo album or something sweet. But no, you’re giving me a buzz-worthy surprise.”

“Hey, I am being romantic,” Quinn grumbles, though you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s just… well, it’s a practical gift. You’ll see. You will appreciate it, trust me.”

“Uh-huh.” You can’t help but giggle, the idea of Quinn Hughes—this big, tough hockey player—giving you a vibrator as a Christmas present making the entire situation even more entertaining. Quinn shoots you a quick glance, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

The rest of the drive is filled with light-hearted teasing and jokes, both of you trying to stay serious but failing miserably in the face of the absurdity of it all. Finally, Quinn pulls into your apartment building’s parking lot, his hands still gripping the wheel.

“Alright,” Quinn says, glancing over at you. “Before you get too excited, I need you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?” you ask, your curiosity piqued, your mind already racing with the possibilities.

“No spoiling it, okay?” He lets out a nervous chuckle. “I want you to really open it without expecting anything else. Just... let it be a surprise.” You smile sweetly, though your mind is already a whirlwind of teasing ideas.

“Fine. I promise. But you know, I am really curious now. It’s hard to wait when you’ve already dropped that kind of hint.”

Quinn’s posture relaxes slightly, though you can tell he’s still not entirely sure if you’re going to let him get away with it. You both exit the car and walk toward the door, the tension between you playful, electric. Once inside, Quinn quickly heads to the kitchen, pulling out a small gift bag from behind his back. The pink tissue paper peeking out from the top is unmistakable. He hands it over with a careful smile.

“Okay, go ahead,” he says, his voice a little quieter now, like he’s finally letting go of the buildup. “Merry early Christmas.”

You take the bag, a mix of amusement and anticipation buzzing through you. You peek inside, feeling something smooth and compact, wrapped in soft tissue paper. Your fingers trail over the shape, and you pull it out slowly, eyes widening as you pull the vibrator from the bag.

Quinn’s cheeks flush again as he watches your reaction. “I swear, it’s not as weird as it sounds. I thought... you’d enjoy it. It’s a good one. I—uh—did my research.” You glance down at the vibrator in your hand before looking back up at your boyfriend. “It’s supposed to strap to my leg so you can— you know.” He begins to explain, pointing to the straps on the toy before down to his thigh, his muscles bulging through the fabric of his jeans.

“Quinn, what was your plan for me to use this?”

“I just thought maybe we could do something a little out of the ordinary?” He explains, rubbing the back of his neck, his curls falling in front of his forehead as he reaches forwards and snatches your new toy out of your hand. “If you don’t want it then don’t use it.” He says, the famous Hughes pout back on his face.

“Who said anything about not wanting it? I just never thought you’d buy a vibrator for christmas, it’s just a little out of the ordinary.” You chuckle, stepping towards him your arms rising up to hang over his shoulders, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a long kiss, his hands immediately finding their usual spot around your waist, his lips chasing after yours as you pull away.

“Show me how it works.” You whisper against his mouth, the firm material of his stitches rubbing against your lips. You pull away further from him, your hands trailing down to intertwine with his. "After all, you went through all the trouble to pick it out, didn’t you?”

Quinn's breath hitches slightly, and you catch the faintest flicker of a grin tugging at his lips. He sets the small toy back onto the counter and gives you a look—a mix of playful exasperation and genuine affection. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

You shrug innocently, your fingers brushing against the edge of his hoodie. “I mean, you’re the one who said it was practical,” you counter, your voice dripping with amusement. “I’m just trying to see if you really know how to use it.” His cheeks redden even more, and he bites back a laugh, shaking his head.

“Alright,” he mutters, grabbing the vibrator again and fiddling with the straps. “Let’s just figure this out together. But if you start laughing too much, I’m taking it back.” You stifle a giggle as Quinn reads the tiny instruction booklet that came with the toy, his brow furrowing in concentration. His serious expression as he tries to decipher the diagram is endearing, and you can’t help but lean into his side, resting your head on his shoulder.

“You’re really committed to this, aren’t you?” you tease softly, your laughter breaking through when he gives you a mock glare.

“Of course I am,” he replies, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I told you—I wanted to do something different this year. And, well...” He trails off, holding up the vibrator with a slight smirk. “Mission accomplished?” You burst out laughing, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Definitely accomplished. And for the record, I love it. You’re full of surprises, Quinn Hughes.” He ducks his head, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before glancing back at the toy. “Alright, let’s figure this out. But next year, I’m getting you something less... complicated.” Quinn works out the instructions quickly, strapping the new toy to his thigh, the purple silicone starting to look more tempting by the second.

“Quinn.” You say softly as he continues to read through the instruction manual.

“Hmm.” He hums in response, his eyes not leaving the small plastic booklet. You start by pulling off your shirt, shuffling your leggings down your legs next, your underwear remaining in place as you tap on his shoulder, his gaze shooting up at you the booklet dropping from his hands.

“Go sit on the couch.” Quinn doesn’t hesitate making his way over to the couch sinking into the cushions as he watches you approach, his legs opening slightly as you stand in front of him — your hands slowly pulling your panties down your legs as you lift your legs to straddle his left thigh, sitting down ontop of the silicone now strapped to his leg, the cold of the toy making you shiver in delight.

“Show me how it works, Quinn.” You say softly, bracing your hands on his shoulders, as his eyes lock on yours, your boyfriend clearing his throat before looking down at the app on his phone, fiddling with the screen until he finds the on button.

“It had ten speeds.” Quinn says softly, the soft vibrations almost instantly melting your body as they tease along your slit. “They recommend riding the toy.” Quinn coughs, one hand gripping his unlocked phone the other gripping the front of the couch cushion. You nod at his instructions slowly moving your hips back and forth along the toy as Quinn bumps up the vibrations by two levels.

Quinn watches you ride the toy for a few moments before bumping up the speed again, his legs tensing as you let out a soft groan. “Shit, that feels good.” You whisper, your nails digging into Quinns shoulders as you throw your head back, your breathing becoming heavier, your tits pushing towards Quinns face.

“Can you —” Quinn hesitates, his throat bobbing around the lump, “Can you take of your bra?” He asks softly, almost embarrassed.

“You’ve got hands” You hiss as he bumps the speed up again, your hips starting to loose their rhythm. Quinn takes your response and runs with it, his phone dropping to the couch besides him, his hands reaching for the back clasps of your bra, pulling the fabric away from your chest as fast as he can manage letting your tits falling free, as you glance down at your boyfriend you can see the ways he’s drooling over watching you move against him.

“You can touch them you know - this isn’t a hands off month or anything.” You snark, smiling as Quinn wastes no time in latching his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking on the sensitive flesh as his other hand reaches up to cup the lonely one, his lips leave your nipples pressing kisses along your chest before latching onto the next one, your fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck as you let out a long moan.

“Speed it up Quinn.” You grumble, yours hips moving frantically now as his kisses make their way up your neck, his hands fiddling with his phone, pressing the screen a few times as the vibrator maxes out.

“Oh god save me.” You hum, your eyes squeezing shut as your move your hips desperately, Quinns fingers pinching your chin as he lowers your head down to his, his lips capturing yours in an antagonising and slow kiss. Both his hands helping guide your hips agains his thigh as you moan against his mouth.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You grumble against his mouth as he kisses you again, his leg bouncing slightly as your grind against it, a small squeal leaving you as your orgasm hits, Quinn’s hand holding you down against the vibrator as you try to escape, the feeling overwhelming as your let out another high pitched moan trying to break free of Quinn hold.

“God can’t find you now.” Quinn teases as he slowly lowers the vibrations on the toy until he turns it off completely, your wetness running down to toy and soaking into his jeans - your body collapsing into his chest as you let out ragged breaths. “Maybe switching things up wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

25th of December - Christmas Day

“Merry Christmas everyone!” You cheer as you and Quinn walk into the house - the Millers holding the annual christmas get together for those without a larger Family to see over the two day break. You drop the presents you had bought for Quinn’s teammates by the tree before rushing into the kitchen to give quick hello’s to the hosts of the day.

“The matching shirts are amazing.” You say to Natalie as you take in the small family in their christmas outfits, the same ones they had worn on the christmas card they had sent out the friends and family.

“What about you and Quinn looking great as always.” Natalie coos right back, Quinn and JT giving each other a quick hug and a grumble ‘merry christmas’ before joining the two of you near the counter.

“Merry Christmas,” Quinn murmurs, leaning in to kiss the top of your head as you chat with Natalie. The warmth of his affection makes your cheeks flush, though you’re quick to hide it behind a laugh.

“Alright, let’s see this spread,” Quinn says, stepping away to inspect the food table, and JT follows with a knowing smirk.

Natalie gives you a wink. “You two are adorable. Don’t let him get too caught up with JT’s nonsense, though. Last year, they spent half the night debating hockey stats instead of mingling.”

You grin. “I’ll keep an eye on him.” As the party flows on, you and Quinn find yourselves swept into small conversations—catching up with friends, laughing at old stories, and enjoying the cozy chaos of the Miller household. The sound of Christmas music and the hum of happy chatter fill the air, but your focus keeps wandering back to Quinn. Every shared glance and subtle touch sets your heart racing, and you can tell he feels it too.

At one point, you catch him standing near the Christmas tree, looking at you with a soft smile that sends a shiver down your spine. He nods subtly toward the hallway. Your pulse quickens as you follow his lead, slipping away from the crowd unnoticed.

Quinn takes your hand, guiding you down the hall and into the small, dimly lit bathroom. The door clicks shut behind you, and before you can say anything, his lips are on yours—warm, urgent, and full of everything he’s been holding back all evening.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands resting on your hips as he pulls you closer.

You smile against his mouth, threading your fingers into his hair. “I was wondering how long you’d hold out.”

His chuckle is low and soft as he leans back to look at you, his gaze filled with affection and mischief. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispers before kissing you again, his hands roaming your back as the world outside the bathroom fades away.

Time seems to stop as you lose yourselves in the quiet, stolen moment—just the two of you, tangled together in the warmth of your love, while the party hums on outside.

Quinn’s hands slide up your sides, his touch firm yet careful, as if he’s savouring every second of having you this close. The kiss deepens, his lips parting yours in a way that sends sparks racing through your veins. You feel his breath hitch when you tug gently at his hair, and the soft groan he lets out only fuels the fire growing between you.

Without breaking the kiss, he moves his hands down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the bathroom counter. The cool surface contrasts with the heat of your body, making you gasp against his lips.

“Too much?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, his forehead resting against yours for a moment as he searches your face.

“Not even close,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw before pulling him back in. His hands grip your thighs firmly, spreading them just enough so he can step closer, his hips pressing against yours.

The kiss grows hungrier, more desperate, as if the world outside has completely disappeared. His fingers tease the hem of your dress, his fingers tickling the soft skin of your thighs. The sensation sends a shiver up your spine, and you press yourself closer to him, your legs wrapping loosely around his hips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he breathes against your lips, his hands roaming higher under your sweater.

“You started this,” you tease, your voice shaky but filled with a grin.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss along your jaw, then your neck, his lips and teeth sending shockwaves through you with every touch. Your head tilts back against the mirror, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close.

A sudden burst of laughter from the party beyond the bathroom door jolts you both back to reality for a moment. Quinn freezes, his lips still pressed to your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin.

“We’re being way too loud,” he whispers, though his smirk suggests he’s anything but sorry.

You laugh softly, biting your lip to keep from making a sound as his hands tighten on your hips. “Then maybe we should stop…”

“Not a chance,” he says, capturing your lips again in a kiss that leaves no room for argument. His fingers continue their way under your skirt before grazing lightly over the centre of your panties, pulling away quickly as you let out a sharp gasp.

“Fuck it, we’re doing it.” Quinn hisses. His hands making quick work of his belt buckle and yanking his pants open, the material falling to his knees as his cock springs free. His finger slide back under your skirt pushing your panties to the side before pulling you to the very edge of the counter, lining his hips up with yours. “You need to stay quiet.” He whispers as you let out a moan, his hand slapping over your mouth as he slides inside of you.

You nod quickly, digging you teeth into his palm as he speeds up his movements, his teeth digging into his own lip as he keeps you steady with a hand on your hip, one of your own hands bracing against the sink as you lift two fingers up to Quinn’s mouth. “Help a girl out here.” Your words are still muffled by his hand, he nods, letting you dip your fingers into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them before releasing them with a pop, your fingers quickly dipping under your skirt rubbing against your clit as Quinn’s hips stutter.

“Keep going.” You beg, your pussy clenching around him, trying to milk him of his orgasm as his hips thrust slower and harder, the two of you panting as you both reach your high, Quinn leaning forwards to dig his teeth into your shoulder, letting out a grunt as he pumps into you one more time, his hot cum spurting inside of you, the sensation overwhelming as you whine against his hand.

“We just fucked in your teammates bathroom, on Christmas.” You say into his palm, letting out a choked laugh as Quinn joins you his dick slowly pulling out of you, Quinn pulling away to gather some toiler paper, cleaning himself off before tucking everything back into his pants. His hands on your hips help you back off the counter, a stack of wet paper towel finding their way between your legs cleaning any leaking mess slipping out of you before he repositions your underwear, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he gives you a sly smile.

“I just couldn’t help myself.” He says quietly, pecking you again as he smooths out your skirt. “I hoped you enjoyed your twelve gifts of christmas.” He laughs, your hand finding his as you pull open the door to the bathroom, peeking around the corner before walking out into the hallway.

“Oh, it’s going to be a new tradition at this point.” You say, not giving him any time to respond and you join the party again.

#nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfic #christmas special

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alchemistc · 2 days ago

Text

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #tommy six months later: so when i told you not to slow down i was actually assuming you'd just move into my house in like two weeks #buck: at least we're arguing about communication instead of ghosting each other this time #tommy: are you gonna move in with me or what you fucking brat #buck: i'd like to talk about how many kids you want first

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americanwhores · 23 hours ago

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hello i’m here..

i would love if u wrote something about this. there is a very particular cruelty to reinforcing trauma and somehow making something already horrific worse cause it’s guided and patronising… & cause of that i need it really bad..

HELLO HANNAH THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG AND IM SO SO RUSTY W WRITING!!! but ily.. thank u for sending me this ily UGH!! tw for past rape and incest and references to underage abuse - post in question btw!! link is old bc I changed my user

Jimmy picks you up on a street corner, leering out the window of his pick-up truck like you’re a two-dollar whore.

“Oh.” You press your cheek into your raised shoulder. Coy and playful. Like he’s flirting with you. Jimmy would like to make it clear that he is doing anything but that, he’s harassing you. He is ogling you. You are a slutty piece of meat. “I’m not for sale mister.”

“Why you dressed like that then?”

He takes a good look at your face. You’re young—Younger than he has ever looked. Eyes that swallow up your whole entire face, fringed by feathery lashes, that sweet little girl pout.

In the sunlight he sees you in fresco.

When he takes you home he sees you for who you are. This sad little girl with a daddy-shaped hole in her heart.

It makes him like you even more.

You’re splayed flat on his mattress, blinking up at him with big, sad eyes. You know, those kind of eyes. The eyes that girls who end up on the side of milk cartons have. The eyes that foster children and teenage girls on suicide watch have.

“C’mon.” Jimmy cocks his head to the side, he’s got you all figured out. “What’s going on at home?” He squeezes your cheeks until your lips are forced into a pink pout.

“Whath d’yu meanth?” It comes out muffled but he understands well enough.

“I mean, sweetheart, what is it about me—“ Jimmy’s free hand works on unbuckling his belt, you flinch with each clink. Oh, poor thing. He wonders if daddy used it on your tits or cunt. “—That reminds you of daddy?” He lets go of your face to watch it scrunch up in protest and then fall a moment later.

Shyly, quietly, peeking at him through your lashes—“You smell like him.”

“Oh, do I?” Jimmy bumps your nose with his, your eyes are so big there are barely any whites. Your heart is beating so fast he feels it beneath your skin.

“You do…” You trace your fingers along the bridge of his nose. “And you have his nose.” Jimmy’s nose is a pretty regular fucking nose, a little crooked from punches thrown his way.

He hums with this nasty smile on his face, giving you a once over before he asks the nitty-gritty questions. “Where did daddy touch you?”

When you don’t respond, blinking at him stupidly like you are oh-so shocked, Jimmy sighs and slips a hand up your dress. He pushes your thong to the side, plucking your clit so hard you whimper. “Did daddy touch you here?”

You stare at him, bottom lip trembling, unable to move.

“No?” He moves on, hand travelling further up your dress to one of your nice tits. “Was it here? Did daddy touch you like this?” He asks, giving it a firm squeeze, like he’s checking a fruit ripeness.

You are still fucking looking at him with those big, sad eyes. It’s like you want him to feel bad for you. But Jimmy does not care if you have been touched here, there or everywhere.

Jimmy pushes his fingers into your mouth. You don’t bite down because you have done this before. He wets your puffy asshole. “I guess daddy liked to touch you here, huh?” One finger makes it in and you whine deep in the back of your throat. “Don’t blame the guy.”

#🧸.shorts #mouthwashing jimmy smut #jimmy mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x y/n #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing jimmy x reader #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader #jimmy x reader #jimmy smut #dead dove do not eat

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monsterdoll14 · 2 hours ago

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I wrote something for this! Beneath the cut so it’s not a giant block on somebody’s page. But it really liked this idea! @beneathsilverstars

You're sitting in your car, staring at a clock with all the power your, admittedly tiny, body possesses. You said you would arrive at her house at four, but you showed up at three thirty! Which is way too early to show up at someone's house so they could drink your blood, are you crazy? Madam Odile was going to think you were so weird, stars!

You take a deep breath in, and out. You repeat the motion two more times as you wait for the clock to tick. Two minutes to four o’clock, and maybe it was okay to show up a minute earlier but what if it wasn't!? You couldn't risk that! She might refuse to drink your blood if you offended her, and then you wouldn't get paid and then you couldn't pay rent…

Okay, you could wait two more minutes. You glance at the clock again, and it's already 4:03. Where have you been the past five minutes?!

You jump out the car, steady yourself, and hurry towards the front door.

“Donating” blood to vampires for money is a pretty common practice, since they usually pay pretty well and don't need to take too much blood. You can donate a couple times a month without any major health issues . Plus, with agencies dedicated to organizing blood matches between humans and vampires, it's not a particularly dangerous job. It's also proven to be the only job you can keep.

Of course it is, though. You're a human blood bag. There's not much to screw up as long as you stay still and don't act like a creep.

The match you're currently freaking out about is with a middle aged woman named Odile, who seemed decently wealthy by the size of her house and the fact she can afford rent in this economy. You envy her the tiniest bit about that last one.

She opened the door, looking exactly the same as her photos, and you smile at her.

“Nice to meet you! I'm Siffrin, I'm your donor for today!” Customer service mode, on!

She gives you a quick once over before nodding at something and moving to let you in, “Odile. Please come in.”

You hop over the doorway and carefully take off your shoes before you follow her to her couch. Thank the stars, you didn't really feel comfortable anywhere else. Bedroom was… weird, and the kitchen felt like you were just a piece of meat. Not that that was particularly inaccurate, but you couldn't stop yourself from feeling bad about it.

You sit on the couch where Odile gestures for you and take off your gloves. They are kinda scratchy, but you don't want to have to deal with strangers giving you weird looks about the marks lining your wrist. Odile doesn't comment on them, which is yet another win!

“So, how would you like to–”

“One moment.” Odile holds up a hand and walks away. You sit awkwardly on the couch, gloves off, waiting for her. Your skin starts to crawl a bit. She wasn't just going to leave you here,be right? You couldn't possibly have screwed up already. Unless he saw the marks on your wrist and thought you were some sort of weirdo who enjoyed getting bitten by vampires–oh, stars, what if she thought you were some sort of perverted creep? Should you leave? What if–

“Alright, I'm back. Is apple juice ok? I don't have any iron supplements, that was thoughtless of me. My apologies.”

Uh. you… didn't usually get something to drink when you did this..? You kept stuff in your car since you tended to get kicked out the moment you were finished. You could hardly blame any of those people, you didn't like strangers in your house either. Even if you did tend to need to wait alone in your car until you weren't woozy anymore, and your heating/cooling systems gave out a while ago…

Crab, you forgot to respond, “that's fine! Uh, thank you!”

Odile nods and makes her way over to you, setting the glass on a coaster on the table. She sits a bit away from you, which is appreciated but also slightly disappointing. You offer her your wrist. Better not to give her an option in case she tries your neck. The last time someone did that it was… a lot of touch from a stranger,

She takes it carefully in her hand, and you flinch a bit. She's holding you so, so carefully it's almost ticklish. She pauses, long enough for you to recollect yourself.

“Have you washed your hands?” she asks. Pretty common question, should not make you feel as dirty as it does.

“Yes ma’am.” You watch as she nods, mostly to herself, then sinks her teeth into your vein. You flinch again but she holds your wrist just firmly enough that the skin doesn't tear on her fangs. Thank the universe, you could not bleed all over her furniture. You didn't even have a couch at your house, but you knew how expensive they were. You wait, perfectly still even when you start to get a bit dizzy, enjoying the gentle touch on your wrists and odd intoxicated feeling you got whenever a vampire bites you.

… Which is disgusting, you shouldn't feel that way. This was a business transaction, stop being weird. It wasn't meant to be pleasant.

Odile finishes surprisingly quickly, pulling off and pressing a black towel to your wrist. You take it from there, holding the towel with one hand as you eye your apple juice. You definitely want a drink now, but you don't know when she’s going to ask you to leave.

She nudges it towards you, and you carefully accept. Geez, she didn't take much, but you've already donated a couple times this month. You feel woozier than usual.

“You should wait an hour or two before you leave,” Odile comments, standing and walking out, “it'll be late then, but I don't have anything to give you for dinner, as you can imagine. I hope you don't mind.”

An hour… or two? The longest you usually even needed was thirty minutes. Was this Odile’s first time doing this? But you can't imagine she was turned recently if she didn't bother keeping food in the house. Not to mention the illegal nature of being turned in the first place. It still happened, but it wasn't very common? Most were just born vampires these days.

“Well?” Odile's standing in front of you, stars! You needed to stop zoning out! What did she even say…?

“Yes, ma’am,” you mumble, hoping it's the right answer. There's no adverse response, so you think it's probably fine? She sits on an armchair next to you, far enough away that she couldn't grab you but close enough that she can watch you comfortably. She takes out a book and begins to read, and you sip your apple juice in bafflement. What was she even doing? …did she want seconds?

… You don't think you have it in you to give any more blood tonight. If she asks, you don't think you can really refuse, but you really don't want to. You reach for your gloves.

“Don't you need bandages?” she asks, arching her eyebrows.

You pause, gloves in hand, and need a second before you can fully process what she said, “not… really? I don't have any on hand, anyway.” You slump a little at the effort it takes to form coherent responses; which is probably cause for concern. Geez, you're tired.

“Hm. I'll remember next time, then.” Ah, so she was a repeat customer. You got those sometimes, but they usually didn't linger for fear of forming an actual connection with a human of all things. There's another pause before Odile speaks again, “why are you doing this? So often, too.”

That was a question you received pretty often, even from the quietest of vampires. To be fair, Odile didn't seem chatty to be exact, but apparently she had a curious streak.

“Well… the pay is good,” you tell her, cradling your drink. And it's the only way anyone will ever touch me, remains unsaid.

“Hm. money problems, then?” she asks, tone distant. Seems like she's already lost interest. You zone out a bit, then realize you should probably say something in response.

“...I've got plenty in the bank, just not the blood kind” you mumble, not particularly paying attention.

Odile laughs.

…

…oh!

You made her laugh!

A dazed smile makes its way onto your face. You feel warm, and there are little fireworks in your stomach because you made her laugh! This means she definitely doesn't hate you, right? Sure, she was gentle earlier, but that's a bit of a requirement with the more finicky veins. Can't have you bleeding out and ruining her nice furniture. But! You made her laugh! So even if she thinks you're gross for being this desperate for money, she probably doesn't hate you too much!

… or does she? Maybe this time was just a fluke. You should probably try again so you can be extra sure she doesn't hate you. Just in case. Something about blood, or banks, or vampires… but what if you offended her!? Most vampires didn't like your jokes!

You should be a little more vague. Just to be safe.

“Um, how many apples grow on a tree?” you ask, gesturing to your drink a bit. Odile gives you a confused look.

“Pardon?”

“All of them!” you tell her, grinning. She purses her lips, but doesnt look particularly annoyed. More confused, which was not the reaction you were going for.

“I… see.”

Quick, try again, “sorry, I tried to make a joke, but there were no fruits to my labor!”

Odile snorts at that one, turning the page of her book, “I see. You poor thing.”

You giggle, and she shakes her head at your next few attempts to make her laugh. Regardless, an hour later you're feeling much better and leave. You don't even have to sit in your car very long before you feel safe to drive, which is good because the cold has gotten a lot worse over the past few days. You should start carrying heat pads.

thinkign about odile with fangies,,

au where odile is a vampire and siffrin "donates blood" for money (classic occupation for someone lonely and hopeless) and siffrin says something funny while woozily recovering and odile did NOT expect that from him and laughs and siffrin is like. oh fuck yes i'm getting a good grade in being vampire food.

it's not even a purposeful dumb joke he's just a little out of it and saying things. which odile usually gets annoyed when people go all no-filter and say things to her that she is not interested in hearing or god forbid having to respond to. but siffrin is just being cute and earnest and still not too chatty!

and then siffrin is like I MADE HER LSUGH I HAVE TO KEEP BEING FUNNY and his actual attempts at jokes are so weak that they wrap back around to being entertaining. odiles like mhm im sure there was a joke in there somewhere maybe try again in twenty minutes.

they're going through an agency at first, but odile gets annoyed at how large of a cut the agency takes, but it's easier and safer than trying to arrange something with a stranger independently. but she really likes siffrin so after a couple times she's like. no pressure but if you'd rather get paid a little more we could just continue doing this informally. and siffrin is like YES PLEASE bc they really need the money and they like odile too!

but then siffrin starts donating too much blood bc he's still going through the agency as often as allowed And going to odile independently. it's pretty obvious pretty quickly though, and as soon as she catches on odile lectures them and says she won't keep doing this if siffrin won't take care of themself, and siffrin gets all sad (<- hates to be rejected) and is like oh.. ok.. guess i'll leave... and odile is like oh my god no you still have to drink your orange juice first and you should not have even driven HERE in the first place. *i* will drive you home. which has siffrin all ?? bc wow mixed messages (<- has never been cared about before). but odile finds out that siffrin lives in the shittiest apartment ever and is always this close away from getting evicted and long story short siffrin ends up moving in with odile.

odile is like. well. this is kind of a problematic setup but definitely better than the alternative.

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five-rivers · 20 hours ago

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Cilia

A little ficlet I did for @jackdaw-sprite :3

Clockwork was observing Daniel out of the corner of his eye. The boy had wedged himself into the corner of his couch - an artifact he had only acquired for Daniel’s sake in the first place - and looked like he was half asleep, although he was still in ghost form.

There were a number of paths leading out from this point in time. Some of them were so unlikely and would require Clockwork to act in such a reprehensible way that they were virtually impossible, and Clockwork barely glanced at them. Others were unpleasant or unfortunate for a variety of reasons. The rest had their positives and negatives.

Clockwork would have to decide which pathway to take. And whether or not it would be worth it, to take the one that would give him what he wanted.

Already, he had been contemplating the dilemma for subjective days. As Master of Time, he could contemplate it for subjective years, if he so wished, but that would likely be unhealthy.

He wanted.

He flew over to the couch and settled on the side across from Daniel, just close enough for their auras to touch.

Daniel’s aura reached towards his, the tiny strands that made it up waving and stretching sideways. The strands that could touch tapped and brushed and wrapped around Clockwork’s. Clockwork could feel as their rounded, slightly bulbous ends curiously, and somewhat clumsily, nosing through the thicker field of Clockwork’s aura. Where the auras overlapped, the air seemed to ripple with rainbow shades.

Daniel stirred, reorienting himself slightly on the couch so that he was closer to Clockwork, a little bit more of his aura intersecting Clockwork’s.

“‘M I in your way?” asked Daniel, blinking sleepily at Clockwork. “Keeping you off your couch.”

“No,” said Clockwork, who had never used the couch before now.

“What’s–” He raised his hand, confused, and waved it through their combined auras, briefly making them flare even brighter as another part of Daniel’s aura passed through the area. “What’s happening?”

“Aura intersection.”

“I’ve been close to other ghosts before,” said Daniel, waving his hand through their auras again. “It didn’t, um, it didn’t do this.”

“Ghosts you trust?” asked Clockwork.

“Um,” said Danny, frowning. “Why does- Why does it do this?” He was very obviously not fully awake, but he was as curious as his aura.

“You know that your aura is made of small filaments.”

Daniel nodded. “Like cilia. On a cell.”

“Yes, like cilia. Your aura is interacting with mine. If you look very closely, you will be able to see the strands.”

Daniel blinked slowly, then leaned closer. “I don’t see anything.”

“Look at it like you would look at something invisible,” said Clockwork, adjusting his position slightly.

“Hmm,” said Daniel, leaning even closer. He lost balance and his shoulder bumped into Clockwork’s arm. “Mm, sorry.”

“No need,” said Clockwork, patting Daniel’s back.

It was the first time Clockwork had touched him so casually, and Daniel stiffened, but he was too tired, and too interested in the interactions of their auras, to keep that up for long. Clockwork, meanwhile, let the strands of his aura brush through Daniel’s, projecting calm, moving soothingly.

Daniel was not yet familiar with that kind of empathic, aura-to-aura communication, and he responded accordingly, mirroring the feelings and drooping further, curling slightly into Clockwork. Clockwork nudged him gently, with hand and aura, until he was more or less lying on Clockwork.

“It’s pretty,” said Daniel.

“It can be, yes,” said Clockwork, extending his aura, wrapping Daniel in its embrace. “You seem very tired today.”

“Lots of fights,” said Danny. “Boxy, Desiree, Skulker–” He yawned. “Nocturne, even.”

“Oh?”

“He’s- He’s not so bad when he’s not feeding off like a million dreams or- or whatever he was doing that one time…”

“Indeed,” said Clockwork, stroking his shoulders and upper arms. Daniel’s head was nodding up and down, his blinks getting longer and longer, and his aura was also starting to slow and grow quiescent, although it still expressed a sleepy curiosity.

Clockwork let his own aura be more adventurous, questing through Daniel’s until it touched his skin. Daniel shivered at the first touch, but otherwise seemed undisturbed, relaxing further as their auras became more intertwined.

Cautiously, Clockwork began to feed him energy through their auras. There was a small chance for rejection at this stage– But there was none, Daniel accepting the sustenance easily, his head lolling back against Clockwork’s chest.

His eyes were closed. His breathing slowed. At his waist, his aura sparked, then rolled, forming a ring. The ring split, moving in two directions. Where the rings passed, Daniel’s aura pulled back into his skin and his clothing shifted, becoming his human outfit. All very normal.

Except that the parts of Clockwork’s aura that were tangled in Daniel’s were pulled in as well. Not all the way, no, but enough. It was uncomfortable at first, but Clockwork quickly got used to it.

Daniel did not wake.

He did, however, turn to snuggle into Clockwork. Clockwork, feeling indulgent, wrapped him in his cloak.

Even when Daniel transformed again, Clockwork’s aura would still be tangled with his. In fact, their auras would be even more tangled, to the point of being inseparable by normal means.

Now, a ghost’s aura could extend for some distance, and the stronger the ghost, the further their aura could reach. But even Clockwork’s aura could not extend more than a few dozen meters.

In other words, Daniel would be bound to him until he could come up with a way to untangle himself. Bound, for Clockwork to keep, at least for a while.

Daniel would be angry at first. Even if Clockwork didn’t have the ability to see the future, he could see that. But his anger would fade quickly, and he would feel better if he had useful and interesting things to do - Clockwork was already planning what he would teach him. As for sustenance during that time… Clockwork sent another pulse of energy through his aura, and smiled as Daniel mumbled happily in his sleep and snuggled closer.

He would savor this moment.

#danny phantom

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tiredeyesight · 11 hours ago

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⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ in your mind (mattheo riddle x fem! reader)

summary : mattheo riddle, your sworn enemy, forgets about your ability to hear others thoughts

mattheo fucking riddle, waltzes into the class as if he owns the place. that stupid smirk and knowing eyes that he could do anything for salazars sake and not get into any trouble. flitwicks dismay is obvious, yet he does nothing but instruct riddle to take a seat just behind you. now your dismay was obvious, riddle had been your sworn enemy for as long as you could remember however you couldn’t really remember why.

‘oi y/l/n, what’re we doing?’ riddle questions you. ‘come on time and focus to find out’ you respond and for some odd reason there was no sarcastic comment or any insult thrown your way. just silence from mattheo. despite your normal dislike for your abilities to hear other’s thoughts, you used it. just this once.

voices boomed and echoed through your head, clashing together and combining until you focused in on one particular annoyingly attractive voice. ‘god why does she have to be so pretty’ you hear from the same voice that had called you a multitude of opposing mocks. surely he wasn’t talking about you. ‘her hair is so gorgeous, looks so soft, i just wanna play with it ugh.’ to confirm you weren’t dreaming, you dropped your pencil and turned your head. all you saw was his dark, rich brown eyes completely focused on you.

‘i always forget how beautiful her eyes are, this lighting doesn’t do them justice.’ and there was your confirmation.

for the rest of the lesson, you couldn’t focus on the work only on the handsome yet annoying boy behind you who hadn’t stopped thinking about you. as the bell rings you shove your items away in a haste determined to learn more about this admiration for you. the halls become flooded with kids rushing to get to their dorms or the hall for a quick snack before dinner yet all you were focused on was mattheo riddle.

he turned into a quiet hallway and you followed suit, your presence becoming known to him. ‘what are you doing here?’ he asks with irritation in his voice, a very fake irritation as all he could think about was ‘i want her so bad’. you walked closer towards him with a small smile plastered on your face, almost chest to chest and whispered the words, ‘for being someone you hate, i’m sure on your mind a lot’.

a blush rose to his cheeks, ‘i don’t know what you’re talking.’ a continuous, ‘fuck fuck fuck, i forgot she can hear peoples thoughts’, jostled through his mind. a small giggle arose from your sweet lips and that’s all it took for mattheo to completely fold. ‘christ all right, you caught me’ he started, ‘im like head over heels for you, even with our little fights it makes me fall more in love with you every single time. you’re just so gorgeous and so kind, the complete opposite to me yet im totally obsessed with you.’ a smile that you had never seen before appeared on his face.

you were in complete shock, this was almost the last thing you expected from him of all people. mattheo riddle. yet you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach exploded in flutters by his words and how you suddenly became speechless. ‘can i kiss you’, you uttered out after moments of silence. ‘please.’

author note : i feel like this may be the most common thing ive ever wrote but hey it’s common for a reason so live laugh love i guess. and as always requests are still open!!

word count : 556

#fluff #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #slytherin

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stuckinmymind22 · 1 day ago

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zoro x gn! reader

wc: 663

this is the first part of a series "you're in love with me" where you realize that they are in love with you can call them out on it

thanks for voting on this one, i had fun with it, sorry it took so long, i got busy with the holidays, but it’s here now 💕

ace's is done and will be up probably tomorrow and i'm gonna start on sanjis, but lmk if you are interested in any other characters

not proof read lol

this goes one of two ways, in both you're being called stupid, both included

it's a chose your own adventure babe!

zoro has been acting strange recently- he was almost too quick to come to your aid, even if it was something you both knew you could handle alone. he’s also been making sure that you eat. recently he brought up a plate for you when you were on duty in the crow’s nest. sure, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks were tinted pink, but that was easy to write off as a consequence of the alcohol that was surely in his veins. but he didn’t leave right away like you thought he would, he stood on the ladder without moving until he saw you take your first bite. on the last island there had been a miscalculation in your provisions and the ship was running dangerously low on alcohol. there was no doubt that the crew was going to run dry shy of meeting their next destination, which was a bigger deal to some of the straw hats than others. it all brings you to the moment he offers you a sip of the last bottle of sake. you’re speechless. you always thought that hell sure would freeze over before he shared his booze and here he is willingly offering you some. you’re trying to figure out what was going on in his head, why he has been acting so strange, then it hits you. “you’re in love with me.”

denial is a river in egypt

“did you hit your head or sum?” he asks, trying to remain as impartial as possible, but you didn’t miss how he nearly choked at your words. “no, zo, this makes sense,” you say connecting the dots, "you've been acting real weird about me recently, this explains it." you aren’t about to back down from this, not after you wanted this for so long, not until he admits it to himself. “you’re being an idiot,” he rolls his eyes, “do you want some or not?” with a smile you grab the bottle out of his hand and take a swig, sitting down next to him. “i don’t mind you know,” you say taking another sip, “that you love me that is” zoro is confused why he is so drawn to the dangerous smile that plays on your lips. he shakes himself out of it snatching back the bottle and taking a long gulp. you get pulled away by luffy wanting something, but he still feels your presence. little do you know how those words haunt him for the rest of the night. fuck, you might be right

he's down bad and he knows it

“n-no I’m not,” zoro sputters, his face alight, “are you stupid or something?” “no, no, this is why you’ve been acting strange,” you say, the weight of your revelation still sinking in. “that’s why you haven’t let me out of your sight for the past week, right?” you don’t give him time to respond (not that he would be able to formulate a coherent response anyway). you continue listing all of his abnormal behaviors and fail to notice how his face grows redder with your every word. poor zoro is sinking into his seat hoping to disappear he’s so uncomfortable. he’s certain that he messed everything up and has no idea what to do now. he knows that you’re right of course, it’s kept him up at night, kept him from his precious naps. it took him a while to realize why you never left his mind, and the determining factor came from the fucking cook spewing some bullshit to a pretty woman on the last island. just when he is certain that he ruined whatever relationship you could ever have you turn to him with a big smile. “it’s a good thing you are though, or else this would be awkward,” you tell him, before he can even think to question what you mean your lips are on his and his brain malfunctions. maybe it’ll be alright.

masterlist

#gn reader #one piece headcanons #zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro roronoa x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you

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phantomrose96 · 4 hours ago

Text

(A Breach of Trust)

[I am putting the rest of the ask under a ReadMore because it IS long [and now super-long with my responses added] but I am biting and chewing this ask I am biting everything it has to say I love this ask I have things to say]

But yes responding to this first chunk! First THANK YOU second I loved writing just the inherent comedy of each chapter being like "[Scene 1] Ritsu spitting blood: I have to save my brother. He's dying. [Scene 2] *Happy domestic montage of Mob petting a kitten and maybe drinking some hot chocolate*" It was a great way to keep some emotional balance in each chapter and also. Funny.

I was crawling the wallllls getting to the makeshift reveal. I think it was about 5 years between coming up with it and getting to the reveal. So I just had to bite my tongue and dodge any suspicion in Makeshift's direction leveraged in the ABoT discord (ABoT discord! BTW! If you want)

I ended up making this to channel the energy somewhere

[Rest of ask under the cut!]

i was nervous for a hot second early on (around when reigen first takes mob in) that it was gonna be the kind of story that would get frustrating because "oh if the characters literally just told each other anything it would all be fine" but i didn't end up feeling that way at all? like yeah a lot of the plot relies on characters not knowing things and technically a lot could have been solved if idk all the characters decided to meet up and sit in a circle to politely explain everything to each other but it never feels like that should happen. even besides them all generally having reasons for lying or not explaining things or not talking to each other it's like. all their decisions feel very natural even when they're bad or unreasonable, and also crucially when the characters do learn things or w/e it usually doesn't fix things (ie when reigen learns mob's real identity and tells mob the truth and it kind of fixes some problems but also adds a host of new ones). in general despite it being a story that hinges on all the characters making bad decisions it rarely gets aggravating bc all the choices they make are understandable and make sense for them -- it doesn't feel like anything is happening simply because the plot demands it. everything is constantly getting worse but that's because the characters are making it worse it's not just Happening. and then the characters have to confront and deal with the consequences of all their actions and learn from them and it's very satisfying

YEAH!!! YEAH YOU GET IT!!!!!!

It is VERY important to me that the story in ABoT is character-driven. There should virtually be no "it happened because the plot demanded it." If it happened, it happened because a character's choice caused it. And if a character made a choice, it was due to their own motivations and not because the plot demanded it.

So, YES, there is this scenario where so much of what is happening comes as the result of each character having, at most, a 20% understanding of what's going on. But the withholding of information, CRITICALLY, cannot be because of Idiot Plot reasons.

Reigen "could" just ring up the Kageyama's and send Mob home, cutting short the first like 2/3 of his and Mob's arc. But he doesn't. And not because he's an idiot. He tried. Mob freaked out. And that was a good enough reason to just delay this until tomorrow, surely. But we watch as Reigen gets to experience was feels like genuine accomplishment, genuine joy, genuine meaning, by helping this kid experience life again. From the very start that's what Reigen wanted--to feel like he mattered. At the beginning this is what drives him to take up the Tetsugami case, despite knowing it can get him killed. (Because maybe Reigen can do something, this time. It's not just another doomed marriage or unsolvable missing person. Maybe he can make a difference. Maybe he can matter.)

And it manifests in what looks like heroics, but in the case with Mob, it drives Reigen to stall... more and more. He knows on some fundamental level it's wrong to be keeping Mob this long, but he can justify it in how this IS what Mob wanted.

And the same extends to the other characters... Tetsuo doesn't tell Reigen about Shigeo Kageyama's link to the Mogami case because he can't bear to admit HE was probably Shigeo's captor. Mob keeps secrets about Mogami because Mob knows he "killed" Reigen's "friend." Ritsu withholds information because it's the only power he has, and giving up information allows other people to stop him. Gimcrack and Slipshod keep quiet about Mob's location because their free lunch would end if they told.

And when these characters make bad decisions instead, it is CRITICALLY important to me that those decisions were the organic result of that character's complexes, goals, misunderstandings, and absent information. It's a train wreck and God Dammit I do everything in my power to ensure each character is their own conductor.

and the Themes. okay first of all i am a huge fan of stories that are like "no, heroic sacrifices are Not the answer, please stay alive so you can actually get better and fix your mistakes and be there for the people you care about", so obviously i adored that. i loved reigen confronting ritsu about this and urging him to stay alive, and i'm also obsessed with how reigen immediately Does Not Take His Own Advice. reigen's self-sacrifice plan makes a lot of sense with his character and given the circumstances it's definitely understandable why he and teru would be willing, however reluctantly, to resort to that, but of course it's not that actual solution because that's the whole point. (shout out to mogami being the one to save him. congrats on accidentally doing one (1) good thing.) reigen, ritsu, mob irt to being imprisoned rather than death -- none of them can just sacrifice themselves and expect that to fix everything and everyone to be fine without them, because that's not how this works. (also i can't wait to see ritsu inevitably be pissed at reigen about him trying to do exactly what he talked ritsu out of and reigen having no excuse except "yes i know, i am a hypocrite, please do as i say not as i do.") the story is dark but it's also so full of hope -- you can live, you can heal, you can move forward from all of this, no matter what you've done or what's happened to you.

YES!!! ANOTHER RESOUNDING YES!!!!

I've talked in the ABoT discord about how Reigen's sacrifice didn't work because it couldn't work. Because, if Reigen intentionally killed himself in order to end Mogami too, and Mob was saved and went home, then that means you DO save what you care about by sacrificing yourself. Which would be fine in other stories, but not this one.

ABoT's message has pretty loudly been "you don't save things by sacrificing yourself. you save them by living long enough to fix what you've broken." And even when Reigen is the one SAYING this to Ritsu... he doesn't believe it for himself. And he does not get to get away with not believing it for himself.

In earlier planning stages of the Reigen sacrifice scene, my plan was to have Reigen's knife slip before he could slice his throat (palms sweaty, grip slipped, parallel to what happened in the struggle-for-the-knife in the original chapter 8 Reigen-vs-Tetsugami scene).

But I thought about that and I said "No, actually." If Reigen fails because his palm slips, that suggests this COULD have succeeded, and Reigen just botched it is all.

So instead, the scorching fire around them (the blaze Reigen set) has dehydrated him to the point that his sweating has stopped. He is salty dusty skin and dry lips and his grip on the knife handle is perfect (anti-parallel to the first struggle for the knife scene). His execution is perfect. Reigen sacrifices himself perfectly.

...And then it's Mogami, who is well-practiced at controlling a maimed possessed body, who snatches back control and cauterizes the wound shut. Mogami (the antagonist of this story) cannot be defeated by self-sacrifice.

There is no "if only Reigen did it right" ambiguity. There is an absolute statement about where the themes stand.

(And yes, I'm sure Ritsu will have only positive emotions about what Reigen tried to do once this is made clear to him. :))

one of the other themes i found most interesting was the theme of lies and people trying to act like something they're not, and how that factors in to all the characters' stories. of course mogami is right there (and the parallels between him and reigen in how they both lie to mob for different reasons are super interesting) but i was particularly thinking a lot about reigen, teru, and ritsu and the different sorts of false lives they live -- reigen the con man playing the part of the confident, powerful psychic, constantly lying about his abilities and his accomplishments; teru keeping up the appearance of being totally in control and untouchable, surrounding himself with friends he can't stand and a girlfriend he doesn't care about; ritsu trying to maintain his reputation as the perfect, model student and constructing increasingly elaborate lies to convince his parents that he's doing fine.

i was thinking especially abt the parallels between reigen and teru -- their identities as liars are both emphasized, literally having teru saying "i was lying. i lied to you. i'm a liar" and reigen saying "i lied to you. i've been lying the whole time. i'm a liar" in the same chapter. both of them have grown accustomed to being alone and having a life that's more an expertly crafted facade than anything with substance, but both find in their respective kageyama brothers someone who they genuinely care about -- and they both doom these relationships from the beginning because they can't let go of the facade they're used to keeping up and their desire to feel important/superior. teru continues to be the same smug, uncaring asshole he's designed himself to be even after he starts to see ritsu as a friend, and because of this ritsu remains antagonistic towards and distrusting of him; reigen pretends to be the "21st century's greatest psychic" with mob even when he's starting to care about mob and want him as a permanent fixture in his life, causing things to fall apart when he reveals the truth. they both say the right things to point mob/ritsu in the right direction, but the way they act does the opposite: teru tells ritsu the dangers of what he's doing and reigen tells mob that they should call his family or the police, but at the end of the day, no matter their good intentions, teru likes feeling superior to ritsu and reigen likes having mob depend on him, and so they're not actually going to do anything that would upset that balance. (and, of course, they reassure themselves with the knowledge that it's not their fault, ritsu and mob just won't listen to them! which isn't technically untrue, but nonetheless frames the situation in a way that ignores their own role in it.)

Aaaaaaaaaaaa honestly I don't even think I have anything to add here because your analysis is already so 🤌🤌🤌. They are Liars they are Liars living through a Mask they are Liars who Say one thing and Do another they are Liars who convince themselves this Lie is fine.

all the characters are so good but my favorite has to be ritsu his whole storyline is fantastic. from the start i was enjoying the fic a lot but it was when it started to really get into ritsu's story and his whole deal that i started being like "oh yeah this is the good shit." seeing him go further and further down his self-destructive spiral, constantly digging himself deeper as he hurts himself and the people around him more and more, is so fascinating and painful. and then seeing him get better and start actually wanting to live as he talks to reigen and later teru! and then in the confrontation with mogami when he decides once and for all that he wants to live and remember and try to find a way to fix his mistakes rather than forgetting them or giving in to them! just. he is thirteen years old and he just has all this rage and grief that he's been holding onto and repressing for so long and he finally gets the chance to do something with it, something he can do to find his brother at the low low price of bleeding himself dry, and so he throws himself into that, tearing himself to pieces and not caring who else gets hurt in the process, until he reaches rock bottom, what should be the point of no return -- but it isn't, because teru saves him, because reigen convinces him to try to stay alive, because mob is waiting for him, because he has people who care about him and he's just a desperate, hurting kid and no matter how badly he's fucked up he can still come back from it. just Such a compelling and painful and beautiful character arc

Thank you for stating exactly the reason I loved writing Ritsu's arc so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🥺❤️

When I was about 13, I got really into Naruto and I really liked Sasuke's character. Even seeing him now makes some inner part of me point and go "It's Sasuke!" Brooding, stoic, over-achieving, entrenched in family trauma, is swayed over to the darkside because of the rage and grief he's been sitting on.

And because it's Ninja Fantasy World, Sasuke gets to do this and be really cool the whole time.

Ritsu is... actually just a 13-year-old, with psychic powers which he didn't even want after his brother vanished. He IS smart and he IS a model student and he IS powerful but... he's scared. He's scared, and he's 13. He NEEDS to be smarter than everyone (he's not, and he knows this, and it's scary) and more powerful than everyone (he's not, he knows, he's scared), because he knows that anyone with power over him can control him. And he's at his wit's end being controlled.

So he needs to be COMPLETELY in control and have COMPLETE power. And every instance that proves to him he's actually weak, actually clueless, actually being taken advantage of drives him to panic.

And he finds antagonism on all sides... Teru who loves to pick apart and mock Ritsu for every weakness he has. The spirit horde who eat him within an inch of his life. Isa trying to shut him down. His parents trying to control him.

No one is helping him with his grief... No one is finding his brother... No one is saving him... He does not want to keep living like this. And "no longer living" isn't even an option with how heavily his parents rely on him.

So what does he do. He's so alone. He doesn't have a single soul on his side. Every day is torment. ...And then he has this opportunity that shows up like "if you hurt yourself real bad, kill yourself doing it maybe, you can solve the very thing that ruined your life"

So of course he does it. He grabs onto it like a hot stove or a live wire because he's been wanting to hurt himself, and now he can do it in pursuit of the very thing which will save his brother and fix everything. The risk of dying isn't even a risk. It's an escape. He can do this and he can BECOME more powerful and he can GAIN control and he can USE and MANIPULATE whoever he wants (namely the people who've proven again and again they'll hold him down and force obedience out of him).

Of course he spirals. Of course he hurts people...

And then he finds rock-bottom. Teru chews him out and abandons him. Ritsu flips on Gimcrack and exorcises him out of paranoia (Teru turned on him, Gimcrack probably betrayed him too.) He NEARLY kills Reigen under that same absolute fit of paranoia and fear. ...And then he finds his brother. His brother. Alive.

And grabbing his brother shreds his hand. It does not fix him. It does not save him. It maims him.

And now Ritsu is nothing. Not powerful. Not in control. Not certain. He's someone who just hurts people. He's someone who destroys. He drives everyone away and they're RIGHT to leave him because of how horrible he's been. He can't save his brother, and his brother won't save him. ...So Ritsu wanders back to Reigen. The only person who seems to have a semblance of direction in this whole thing. Broken and beaten, Ritsu joins Reigen because he does not know what else to do.

But there is an up from rock-bottom. As much as Reigen and Ritsu are just The Worst to each other, it's actually that childishness in Reigen that starts to work on Ritsu... This is not a typical adult, using adult-speak and adult-authority to make Ritsu comply. Ritsu can't even fall into his typical masked-up behavior against an adult because Reigen is a fucking nuisance and an irritant and Ritsu, for all his "maturity", riles easily.

This is... really just Some Fucking Guy. A loser, at best. But it's someone Ritsu's brother cared about, and who Ritsu knows gave kindness to Mob where Ritsu couldn't. And it's someone who isn't forcing Ritsu to do anything. Reigen is, in fact, letting Ritsu make these decisions to change on his own. Teru comes back with an apology. Ritsu is staring at the chance to do better, and the chance for some future that doesn't involve killing himself.

And he gets to make that decision against Mogami.

And--here's the thing--Mogami was WITH Ritsu for so much of Ritsu's spiral. He knows what sort of kid Ritsu is. So he "knows" Ritsu will accept what Mogami has to offer...

But when "makeshift" vanished was exactly when Mogami got Mob back, aka exactly when Ritsu went to Reigen. Mogami did not get to see Ritsu's healing. So he got to be blindsided by Ritsu's ultimate decision.

and ritsu's dynamic with teru is just. so good i adored every single scene they had together. first of all they are so fucking funny. they're just these two psychic middle schoolers who both suck so bad and just cannot stop trying to murder each other on the soccer field and i love that for them. ritsu's terrible decision-making reaches new heights every day and teru's just standing there watching him and being right about everything in the most annoying way possible. literally the worsties ever <3

I have, consistently, referred to them as "the two worst middle schoolers ever". Like "you're a horde ghost and you're stuck doing the bidding of the two worst middle schoolers ever."

With huge consistency, the scenes I find funniest end up being Ritsu Teru scenes. Because they are, in fact, The Worst.

but more importantly on a serious note i am obsessed with the complicated mess that is their relationship and the way it and the reader's perception of it change as the story goes on. when they first meet things are seemingly pretty straightforward (mostly. i have thoughts which i will talk abt in a second): teru is the one causing the conflict between them by being shitty, and ritsu's just responding to it relatively reasonably. ritsu's the protagonist, the good guy, whereas teru is a morally gray asshole. them working together is a matter of necessity, with ritsu only going along with it because he needs teru's skill and power on his side and teru presumably having his own secret, self-serving motivations. standard stuff; we all know how this goes.

except then the story keeps going, and it gradually becomes apparent that things are far from this simple. it slowly becomes clear that despite teru's arrogance and callousness, he does have ethical standards and lines he won't cross -- whereas ritsu gets more and more unfettered as time goes on. it also gradually becomes obvious that teru does genuinely care about ritsu and see him as a friend (probably the closest thing to a genuine friend teru has), even if teru himself is pretty shitty at being a friend -- leading to the incredibly striking moment when ritsu himself realizes this, and his main takeaway is just that he has power over teru. by the time they have their second soccer field fight, teru has proven himself the more morally upstanding one, which is pretty wild considering the first thing we ever see him do is beat the shit out of a near-defenseless thirteen-year-old for annoying him. of course, he still isn't supposed to be fully in the right -- one thing i really appreciated about the story in general was that the conflicts between characters are rarely as simple as "this character was Right and this one was Wrong," but rather a matter of all the characters making mistakes at one time or another and then having to deal with the consequences and make amends. ritsu and teru's relationship is a prime example of that with how "ritsu made his own decisions and those decisions were Very Bad" and "teru treated ritsu poorly and never actually did the work to make himself someone ritsu could actually trust or would want to listen to" are facts that coexist and both get addressed. the second fight is a masterpiece of a scene in basically every way, but one of my favorite aspects is how teru is desperately trying to reach out to ritsu but is hit with the truth that it's too late for that, that he should have been doing this the whole time, that all this is partially his fault. and in this scene, he fully accepts that, gives in and decides that ritsu is right: it's too late to make amends, it's too late to save ritsu. but it doesn't end there, because this is not a story in which things are simply unfixable, and so instead teru comes back, decides to make the hard choice and try to fix things instead of turning his back on ritsu for good. during the fight, teru says he wants to help ritsu, to sacrifice for him, and ritsu scoffs at him and rejects the idea -- but then teru actually does it. he puts his money where his mouth is and reaches out to ritsu and offers his own psychic energy to save ritsu's life, along with apologizing to him and offering his help to find mob. like i dunno what else to say that's not just summarizing every scene they have together but god i love their dynamic and its arc. i really hope they manage to become actual friends now because god knows they could both use more (read: any) of those. the text exchange they have at the end of the most recent chapter is delightful i love that they bond by insulting reigen i think that's great for them.

Yes yes yes yesssss. It definitely felt like the most ambitious thing early on in ABoT, where I had early-story Ritsu and early-story Teru, and I wanted, somehow, to pull off "they basically swap moral grounds by their second fight."

It's easy enough to just SAY "Ritsu spirals and does progressively worse things. Teru starts to take objection to these more and more until he's the one who thinks this whole thing has gone too far."

And, harkening back to earlier, this kind of plotline has to be deeply rooted in their characters. There is no "Ritsu becomes evil just because" and there is no "Teru becomes good just because."

So they needed to be consistent in their own characters, but evolving under the pressures of the story. Ritsu I talked a lot about early up, how deeply he fears not having control, how much repressed frustration he has over the ways everyone in his life has failed him. And he's never allowed to speak up, or god forbid lash out, because it is his JOB to be the surviving child. Perfect, mature, composed.

Ritsu takes this WILD leap into something insanely dangerous which he has no understanding of, nor power in. Teru IS his first big painful wake-up call with how summarily Teru curbstomps him. Ritsu goes home desperately wanting to quit.

He pushes through it, afraid and knowing he has so little power and control. Then there's Teru, exacerbating this. Because he loves to point out how weak, clueless, and not in control Ritsu is. He jabs and he teases and he chews Ritsu out and he knocks Ritsu down because Teru cannot pass up the chance to prove he's better.

So... of course Ritsu eats up the first opportunity he's given to improve his power over Teru. Gimcrack offers to train him--Gimcrack who's far more supportive of Ritsu than Teru ever is--so of course Ritsu accepts. Every single tick of power in Ritsu's direction is security. And Ritsu is consistently rewarded. He learns to manipulate, and it rewards him with control. He pushes Teru away and it rewards him with independence. He lets the whole horde possess him and it rewards him with power.

And then there's Mezato in all this, threatening to rip away his control. But he can beat that out easily with possession. And if he possesses people, why should he care? Possession feels nice, to him. That's not even a fraction of a fraction of the pain he's been through. He can do this to other people, because possession is POWER.

And, ahhh, possession was such a great thematic vehicle to spin the Ritsu-Teru face-heel-heel-face turn around.

The first cracks we see in Teru's demeanor are all, subtly or not, around possession. When Ritsu almost blasts the possessed woman (Ritsu, panicked, uncertain how to handle things) Teru tackles him and screams at him. (Killing a possessed woman? Teru oh Teru why might that terrify you?)

So Teru DOES have morals. He does have limits. But of course, his first exercise of this is tackling and SCREAMING at Ritsu for fucking up. Just another tick mark in Ritsu's check list of feeling powerless and antagonized.

And the next time, when Ritsu offhandedly mentions he's had his parents possessed for the night while he and Teru were at the meat warehouse... well it's out of focus, since Ritsu is our POV character and he doesn't notice, but Teru freezes. Teru questions this. Teru, instead of letting Gimcrack phase him through the wall (and he was resistant to letting Gimcrack touch him to phase him in in the first place) Teru instead blasts a hole through the warehouse wall.

But... Teru has a plan. When Isa catches Ritsu in the call center, Teru confiscates Ritsu's spirits and (behind his back) blackmails them into never accepting a command from Ritsu to possess someone. (Teru is also a control-freak, and rather than try to talk to Ritsu directly about not possessing people, he just uses manipulation and threats to make it happen).

So now, Teru can relax, surely :). He invites Ritsu along for the movie. He's mocking and insufferable and cruel to Ritsu but, hey :), that's just Teru proving his place in the hierarchy. He... actually does want Ritsu there. He actually does help Ritsu (cauterizes his wound without asking). (It's still power-plays. Still power-plays all the way down which Ritsu hates.)

And Teru... incorrectly... starts to entertain this idea that Ritsu also thinks what they have is friendship. And after the ice cream thing, is when Ritsu leans into Gimcrack's offer to learn how to start being manipulative like Teru is.

So Teru notices NOTHING is wrong for a long time, because now Ritsu is faking it. He doesn't notice until it is much too late. And, frankly, it was ALWAYS too late for Teru to take the moral high road. And some part of Teru realizes this because what he sees in Ritsu, he realizes, is what it looked like to watch Teru from the outside. Teru was ALLOWED to be manipulative and horrible because Teru, himself, always knew he would stop before crossing a real moral line. (Not that Ritsu knew this.) And now he's staring at Ritsu, a true threat who won't listen to reason and who CANNOT reliably be expected to back down before a line is crossed.

And... to THROW this in Teru's face in the FORM of Ritsu letting every spirit from his own horde possess Ritsu during the fight, giving Ritsu the upper hand.

I always knew, for this second fight, the tables would need to be a lot more evenly matched, with Ritsu coming out ahead more often than not. But I also don't like "some character is morally questionable now, and for some reason that's made them stronger than the master character who pulverized them earlier."

But POSSESSION. The motif that all this conflict is hanging upon, used as a boon on Ritsu's side to smash Teru into the ground, to physically and MENTALLY rattle him to the point that he's lagging on Ritsu's attacks and incapable of subduing Ritsu until Teru puts aside his psychic powers all together...

AND JUST... Teru all the while being forced to realize he IS not blameless in this. That every horrible, callous remark he made to Ritsu was not directing Ritsu to the right path or proving himself cool and powerful. They were all instead only cementing Ritsu's hatred of him.

And Teru does not want to accept this at first. He wants to think he did the right thing, ultimately, and it was RITSU who rejected him. And this is where the scene with Slipshod comes into play. Slipshod, who is shown again and again being good at pressing people's buttons. Slipshod is the one bully bigger than Teru in all this, and behind his dumb demeanor is he really really good at knowing how to get a rise out of people. He does it to Reigen while possessing Mezato. He does it to Ritsu while possessing his mother. And he does it to Teru, for fun, because he loves to rub Teru's face in the mess he created.

Which, on the plus side, was the wake up call Teru needed to recognize how consistently horrible HE had been. How much of Ritsu's spiral (and now, imminent death) happened because Teru gleefully pushed him toward it.

Teru's one and only friend.

After Teru swore off friends and loved ones, because they can be used to hurt him.

So it is a big moment, and a big decision Teru makes, when he chooses Ritsu. chooses apologizing. chooses making himself vulnerable (VERY LITERALLY, with how the power transfusion drains Teru to nothing). Teru chooses to care.

And ultimately, it's not even that Teru went from the bad moralless one, to the moral one. He always had these morals. He had these uncrossable lines since day one. But he hid it behind his horrible antagonistic demeanor and the cracks did not come through until he realized he lost control of Ritsu. Teru's ACTUAL heel-face turn comes in him realizing how awful his demeanor was and making amends for that.

i'm actually not done talking about them though because it's finally time for that tangent about teru and ritsu's first fight on the soccer field now because i just reread it while writing that last section and it's so interesting actually. like okay, like i said before it does set teru up as the problem -- in that scene teru is very much the aggressor; he's being a complete asshole for no goddamn reason, with absolutely no compunctions about beating the crap out of some random kid, and ritsu is the scrappy underdog determined to fight back despite not really having the means to. but then there are the moments hinting at more complexity to teru -- him literally stopping the fight to teach ritsu to use his barrier, giving ritsu the makeup after the fight, and of course his decision to spare ritsu in the end. and then on ritsu's side, he almost actually kills teru -- the only reason he doesn't is that teru manages to break free. (awful awful au idea: ritsu actually does kill teru here. would that be fucked up or what) something that stood out to me when rereading it is that despite teru repeatedly saying he'll kill ritsu, and ritsu's internal monologue being very convinced that he's in mortal danger, teru's reaction to ritsu actually almost killing him -- "you really are trying to kill me. we're done", etc -- seems to imply that his threats were more him just talking a big game, expecting ritsu to give in and surrender eventually, and he didn't actually intend to kill him until ritsu gave him an actual reason to. especially interesting to me is the bit where teru asks ritsu if he really meant to kill him, because ritsu's narration and teru's actual actions are kind of at odds -- ritsu tells teru he meant to do it because he thinks him scaring teru is what's making teru hesitate, and that he needs to make teru think he's dangerous in order to get him to leave ritsu alone, but teru's actual response is the opposite, attacking ritsu more fiercely because "there's no reason for [him] to hold back". in general the scene very cleverly sets up the core difference between them: teru is pretty awful but does have firm moral standards, whereas ritsu is desperate and willing to do just about anything if he thinks it's the only option. also the parallels and contrasts with the second soccer field scene are excellent -- the role reversal with the strangling but also how when ritsu does it both the initial act of starting to strangle teru and the fact that he doesn't end up killing teru are both unintentional on ritsu's part, but when teru does it it's a very intentional choice both to do it and to not go through with it; "we're done" said by teru the first time when he's preparing to kill ritsu and then the second time after he's decided not to. have i mentioned that this fic is good because this fic is good. i'm running out of ways to say that

YES!!!!!! ANOTHER RESOUNDING YESYES YES.

I have slightly pre-emptively answered this question by mentioning it above but Teru demonstrates this hypocritical "rules for thee but not for me" because, internally, Teru knows HE will always stop before the line is crossed.

BUT RITSU DOES NOT KNOW THIS. THERE IS NO REASONABLE EXPECTATION FOR RITSU TO KNOW THIS.

So Ritsu, and we the audience, do NOT know this during the first soccer fight. Teru is going to kill Ritsu is a very reasonable conclusion to draw from the way Teru goes all out on Ritsu. Ritsu is terrified. Out of his depth. He's panicking. This kid is going to kill me and he has every reason to believe it.

We don't know, unless (like you) you look at the smaller details, that Teru is not intending to kill Ritsu. He's talking big. He's trying to force submission in Ritsu. He's not trying to kill.

But Ritsu does go for the kill. Because it is the single break he gets and it's perhaps his only chance to survive (he thinks), and he does, IN FACT go for the kill.

Teru breaks free and he does... even give Ritsu the chance to clarify if that was an intended kill-shot. Teru is giving the chance for Ritsu to essentially say "Sorry, accident, don't escalate to trying to kill me." But Ritsu misreads the room, like you point out, and this is when Teru gets serious.

Strangulation, in the first fight and in the last fight. Exactly as you say. Accidental, by Ritsu, the first time, and accidental in letting Teru live. Intentional, by Teru, the second time, and intentional in letting Ritsu live.

"WE'RE DONE" ECHOED. TWICE. In their first fight and their last. With entirely different meanings.

okay those were my big points but i also had a bunch of smaller thoughts so here's just. a list: - i just think it's really funny that teru saves ritsu by punching him in the chest with psychic power on not one but two occasions. literally their dynamic in a nutshell. (also. the way during the time at the mall ritsu responds by being like "did you cauterize me" really gets to me for some reason. he sounds so offended. like you can't just cauterize someone's wound maybe he liked bleeding all over the place you don't know!) (actually wait that thought is also very funny considering what happens with mogami and reigen later. you really can't just cauterize someone's wounds that's very rude. they worked hard to be that grievously injured) - okay so the burger scene. first of all generally a great scene second of all obviously it's a parallel to the scene with mob and the milk (reigen saying "have mine too" and all that) but also i love the parallels to the scene with isa in the coffee shop (also a great scene btw. have i mentioned this fic is good). they're both scenes in which ritsu has a loud emotional breakdown in a public restaurant (love that that happens twice. ritsu honey can you maybe not) with a major focus on ritsu's insistence on letting himself suffer and refusing any kindness he's shown, but they show ritsu at very different points in his story and have very different outcomes -- isa can't manage to get through to ritsu, but reigen can. ritsu refuses the croissant till the end, but he eats the burger. (sorry to add another side note but i love that that was a very serious sentence i just typed about a very emotional character arc.) also the symbolism in the fact that in the coffee shop scene, ritsu's explosion of psychic powers freezes and then spills his hot chocolate, rendering it undrinkable, but then in the burger scene when he blows up the ceiling the dust explicitly doesn't get on the food, so he can still eat it. good shit - i'm trying to avoid going through every single line or joke i liked one by one but i will say. the "this--" "reigen." "reigen" jokes were both incredibly funny on their own but the fact that they're like 30 chapters apart is what really kills me. the dedication. i saw the second one and was thinking "didn't that joke happen before. when was that. wait was that literally all the way back with tetsuo". countless plot events and several irl years may pass but reigen will never catch a break - the "FUCK OFF" tag reigen made being the one that they exorcise mogami with. perfect - love that ritsu is indirectly responsible for teru's girlfriend breaking up with him (good for mei honestly. sure teru wasn't actually cheating but his ass deserved to get dumped) and i like to imagine that teru never lets this fact go. he's not particularly upset about the breakup but he WILL bring up that ritsu ruined his relationship at every possible opportunity purely to annoy him

I THINK YOU MAY PERHAPS BE THE FIRST PERSON TO RECOGNIZE THE DOUBLE-CAUTERIZATION, and the intentional joke in Ritsu, the first time, declaring "Don’t… perform psychic medical procedures on me without my permission, okay?!" Like sorry bud, this is not the last unauthorized psychic medical cauterization Teru's gonna perform on you.

But not every unauthorized medical cauterization can be a win. Turns out when Mogami does it it's kinda mean >:(. But also necessary, for a not-dead Reigen, so actually thanks Mogami.

ABSOLUTELY THE "HAVE MINE TOO" INTENTIONAL PARALLEL BETWEEN THE MILK SCENE AND THE BURGER SCENE. I'm always glad when someone notices the repeat phrasing that ends both those scenes.

And aaghhhhh I could write a whole other essay about the symbolism that food plays with Ritsu's plotline, but in the smallest nutshell how it tends to represent someone reaching out with care and how often Ritsu rejects it. One public restaurant psychic outburst rendered the offered food unconsumable and the other one intentionally points out the way the food (burger) avoided the destruction :')

THANK YOU YES. "This--" "Reigen." "Reigen." as a repeat joke tickles me so much. Just Some Guy energy. Could've played the most pivotal role all night but he'll still end up somewhere next day where someone needs to figure out who he is. Reigen is here too, btw. His name is Reigen, btw.

Fuck Off tag was delightful... It started as an inside joke for a very early comic that @sandflakedraws drew (and then later redrew), of the (chapter 5 or 6) Reigen Tetsugami confrontation. The ineffective tag Reigen sticks to Tetsugami's cheek has, in katakana, "fuck off" written on it. Hilarious enough joke for me, years later, to incorporate it into the story.

Re: the girlfriend thing. I've joked before "if I had a nickel every time evil spirit possession was mistaken for an affair in ABoT I'd have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird it happened twice." But yeah, Ritsu, you asshole. You cost your bro his girlfriend.

i could just keep going but at this rate i'm going to be going back through the entire fic and just talking about every single scene so i should probably stop before this gets any longer. basically what i wanna say though is that the fic was very good, thank you for writing it, it has given me brainworms. once again i am so sorry for the length of this ask

THANK YOU!!! I think I just spent like 2 hours writing this response because, as you can see, I REALLY LIKE talking about this stuff haha!!

#ABoT #A Breach of Trust #it's a super duper long post under the cut haha I had a lot to say. as did the ask #thank you i love this

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4milly · 9 hours ago

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girl u are FREKAYYYYY. what's life like with bd!zilla? 🙄🙄🙄🙄

i really do imagine he's the type to be so nonchalant about shit tbh. like when you two decided to co-parent your 3 year old son, from that day forth zilla's always put on this act that he never cared about shit you did. you both were single.

nothing new. he did the in the relationship. act like nothing ever mattered. you'd do things to spite him to atleast see if he cared. like doing your hair a different way when you'd drop your son off, wearing a dress too short and posting it to the gram, even sending him thirst traps on "accident".

only to get a dry ass response. barely even that, sometimes he’d just heart the message and move on.

but nothing ever seemed to phase him. you'd catch glimpses sometimes - a fleeting look in his eyes when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way his jaw would tighten ever so slightly when another man's name came up. but he'd always brush it off, act like it was nothing.

one day, you decided to really push it. you showed up to drop off your son wearing that slinky red dress he always loved, the one that hugged every curve. you made sure your makeup was flawless, your hair perfectly curled. as you handed over your giggling toddler, you casually mentioned the date you had lined up for that night.

little did he know, you didn't even have one. you purposely did all this shit so his blood pressure would raise.

for a split second, you saw it - that flash of jealousy, that hint of possessiveness in his dark eyes. but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cool indifference. "have fun, babygirl," he said with a wink before focusing on your son

"mama, look pretty?" your son said gleaming towards you

"she does, buddy. so very pretty." he simply stated giving you a once over, stopping at your cleavage.

you felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, at the way his eyes lingered on your body. for a moment, you forgot to breathe. then you caught yourself, plastering on a coy smile. "thanks," you said breezily, "i'm sure my date will think so too."

as you turned to head back to your car , you could feel zilla's eyes on you, burning into your back. you put an extra sway in your hips, knowing exactly how that dress moved when you walked. you heard your son's laughter fade as the door closed behind you.

later that night, after your mediocre date with some guy whose name you could barely remember, you found yourself scrolling through your phone in the bathroom. your thumb hovered over zilla's contact. before you could stop yourself, you fired off a text: "date was a bust. heading home early."

you stared at your phone, waiting for his reply. the minutes that went by were agonizing. just as you were about to toss your phone in your purse, it buzzed.

u wanna come over, mama?

you knew this was a bad idea. you only wanted to spite him — show him you still had it and what he lost. but...damn, you'd be lying if you said you didn't crave to feel that long, girth, samoan dick working inside you, and those hands using your hips bouncing you like a bitch in heat, just like an addict craves their next fix. nonetheless, you responded anyways: be there in 15.

the ride to his place felt endless. second-guessing your decision with every passing streetlight. but when you knocked on the door and saw him standing in the doorway, all doubts vanished. He looked good - too good. his white tank top clung to his muscular frame, and his sweatpants hung low on his hips.

"hey, mama," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "come in."

you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you. the living room was dimly lit. as you stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you, you felt a surge of electricity in the air. the living room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the walls. soft music played in the background - was that the playlist you used to make love to? baby making music as they say.

zilla closed the door behind you, his presence looming large. you could feel the heat radiating off his body as he moved closer, his scent suffocating you. "you want sum' to drink?" he asked, his voice husky.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. as he walked to the kitchen, your eyes followed the broad expanse of his back, remembering how it felt to dig your nails into those muscles.

He returned with two glasses of red wine - your favorite. As he handed you yours, his fingers brushed against yours, lingering just a moment too long. you took a sip, the rich flavor exploding on your tongue.

you closed your eyes for a brief moment as you glanced over the room, "so where is our little guy?" desperate to break the silence.

zilla almost didn't hear the question, to occupied in looking at your ass in the dress.

"zilla?" you said more firmly to bring his attention back towards you

"my bad, mama. we watched that paw patrol shit he like and he crashed out not too long ago," he responded before taking a sip of his wine "you look good as fuck, y'know that?"

you felt a flush creep up your neck at his words. "thanks," you murmured, taking another sip of wine to steady your nerves.

zilla moved closer, his eyes roaming over you hungrily. "you r'member first time you wore it?" his voice was low, tinged with desire. "that night at the club, when I couldn't keep my hands off you. had to take yo ass home right then."

you nodded, memories flooding back. the way he'd pressed you against the wall as soon as you got through the door, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the dress higher, pushing his hand into your panties.

before you could respond, zilla closed the distance between you, his large hand cupping your face. "lemme r'mind you," he growled, before crashing his lips against yours. the kiss was hungry, desperate, filled with years of pent-up longing.

in one fluid motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. he carried you to the wall, pressing you against it as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck. your head fell back, a soft moans escaping your lips.

"god, you so fuckin' pretty," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. he hitched your dress up higher, his fingers tracing the edge of your lace panties. "these in the way, mama."

with a swift movement, he pushed your panties to the side exposing your wet core, "shit, i missed this pussy. she missed daddy, baby?"

zilla's fingers were replaced by his hard length, rubbing against you. you didn't remember when he got the time to take his dick out his pants, but thank the stars above. you finally were about to get what you've nearly been wishing for and more, "fuck me, zilla. i missed you so much."

he slid into you, filling you up in one long stroke. your eyes rolled back as your body stretched to accommodate him. it had been too long since you'd felt him this way, inside you, claiming you as his own. the way his dick filled you perfectly made your mind go numb. you wrapped an arm around his neck bringing his lips to your owns. you let out a strangled whine as began to stroke, your pussy still getting used to the filling of being so full again.

he started moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you were nearly empty before filling you back up letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickled your clit.

"zilla!" you yelped as a particular thrust made him swipe over that special spot inside of you

"shh, shh don't wake him up, mama." he replied throwing a hand over your mouth to keep you moans at bay — careful not to wake your sleeping boy down the hall. "so fuckin' pretty just taking all this dick. I should nut all up in yo pretty ass.”

your moans and screams were muffled into zilla's hand. your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. you were in complete bliss right now. zilla's hips moved with a primal rhythm, each thrust driving you higher up the wall. your dress bunched around your waist, the silky fabric sliding against your skin with every movement. your panties, pushed hastily to the side, were soaked with your arousal — same as the floor beneath you. zilla's thickness stretched and filled you completely, your walls clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper.

"that's it, mama," he panted, his hips pounding you against the wall. "take this dick. show me how much you missed it."

you arched your back, pressing your chest against his as you sought more friction. zilla's free hand slid down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifted you slightly, changing the angle. the new position had him hitting your g-spot with every stroke, and you saw stars behind your closed eyelids. you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him on. your nails raked down his muscular back, leaving small rips in his tank top. zilla dipped his head, trailing hot kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts.

your breath hitched as your belly started to tighten around his dick. zilla let out a quiet menacing chuckle into your ear, "wassup baby? you wanna cum? keep wettin' this dick up. make that shit spit fa me."

tears pricked your eyes as you shut them tightly. the pressure built up in your stomach and cum dripped down your legs — unable to store all of it in your pussy with his dick pummeling inside of you. zilla groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. "that's it, baby," he praised, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. "fuck, I'm gonna cum. want me to fill you up, mama?"

your eyes were crossed and your head was spent, only focusing on the feeling of cumming all over him and the pleasure radiating through your body.

he let out a groan as he released every drop of his cum into you without thinking twice. his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge. he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. some of it running down his dick, to his legs, and onto the floor. It felt too good to pull out and he wasn’t going to.

as you both came down from your high, zilla slowly removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with a tender kiss on your bottom lip as you continued to shake and twitch in his arms. the feeling of his warm cum so deep inside you, triggering another mini orgasm. your body continued to convulse as every nerve ending in your body exploded, "yo ass happy you finally got some dick?"

❦:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! <3 drop a comment also! i love reading those. xoxo, cleo.

(think i might make this a series tbh.)

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eliza-and-her-monsters · 1 day ago

Text

the tortured poets department

Info Post

Moodboards

Part I

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TW: This chapter contains physical violence, bullying towards neurodivergent/autistic people, vi being a biiiit of a dick, and jinx just being a chaotic mess (we love her)

WC: 4.5k

Part III

bad blood

“Can you read mine?” I blurted out once I returned to the full table where Jinx was scanning through her cards once more. My hands and cheeks were probably as red as rubies as I took my seat, and hoped to actually stay in it for a while this time.

“I can, but just so you know I am simply a messenger and if the cards need to call you out then they will.” She explained with a clearly targeted scowl towards Ellie.

“You’re into this kind of thing?” Vi wondered with a soft nudge of my foot underneath the table as she was already lounging back against the couch.

“A little, yeah.” I shrugged simply before turning back towards Jinx with a small flush on my cheeks. “Go ahead, I’m ready to be called out.”

“Excellent.” Jinx grinned in a way that I could only describe as maniacal as she whipped out a lighter and a bundle of what looked like dried grass squeezed together with twine.

“Ummm, aren’t you not supposed to have an open flame in here?” Ellie chirped almost anxiously from her spot.

“Geez, you guys really are so tense. Why don’t you take a breath?” An unfamiliar voice chimed in from across the table immediately causing Ellie’s head to pop up in the direction of the girl that had spoke. Dina, I believed is what her name was tossed back her long black hair over her shoulder. “Jinx has only blown up a couple of things anyways.”

“That is an absolutely wild thing to say.” Ellie enunciated in what could almost be read as horror. “You understand how that’s an absolutely wild thing to say right?”

“Relax, you’re not supposed to have a lot of things in here. Firearms, explosives, the weed Vi has stashed in her bag and what she’s definitely going to smoke later.” Jinx drawled on as she expertly blew out the flame sparked on the bunched up grass before letting the smoke envelop the tarot deck with ease.

“What the hell, dude! Be a little bit quieter whenever you say that!” Vi voiced with a mild groan.

“You can shuffle, in any way you want.” Jinx responded without a care in the world as she passed the deck off towards me.

“Okay… cool.” I spoke, retrieving my frostbitten and clearly shaking hands from my pockets.

“Mills, you look like you’re freezing, do you want this?” Ellie questioned with a gentle nudge as she was already reaching for the edges of her flannel to pull it off.

“It’s all good, it was my fault anyways. I’ve got it.” Vi chimed in with a clear of her throat as she shrugged the leather jacket from her shoulders. I could’ve gasped at the large muscles on display, the tattoos stretching from her back and down her arms, one of which just slightly concealed by a layer of bandages wrapped around her forearm which nearly had me thinking the worst at first had it not been for the other injuries sprinkled around her body. One atop her bicep by her shoulders and one just off to the side of her chest. Suddenly the underground fighting ring made sense.

“God, you are such a fucking whore. Can you not distract her while I’m trying to give her a reading?” Jinx groaned in annoyance as she gave her a subtle shove even though it looked as if Vi could overpower her pretty easily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so insecure in my life actually.” Ellie mumbled to herself with a bit of a grimace. “God, I really need to hit the gym.”

“Hockey players usually work out together a few times a week if you wanna come.” Vi directed towards Ellie with a knowing smirk just before I could feel the leather jacket being draped over my shoulders. It was so warm I nearly felt every bit of the cold from outside melting away, her distinctive masculine scent still lingering now even more so. “You can come too, doll.”

The heat in my cheeks remained as I slid my arms through the oversized jacket that could’ve nearly swallowed me. “Maybe.” I answered with a tiny shrug as I shuffled the cards around in my hand, every attempt to look cool probably muddled by how flustered I seemed to be with every little comment she made. “Here.” I cleared my throat as I handed the cards back to the curious Jinx.

“Alright… here we go.” She practically smirked as she pulled three cards from the deck and spread them out in front of me before flipping the first one over with a flourish. Immediately my heart seemed to twist in my chest at the art piece scrawled across: Death. “Nice, I don’t see that one often!” Jinx seemed much too cheerful at the sight as she reached across the table to give me a pat on the back.

“Ummm… wh-what does that mean?” I stammered with widened eyes.

“Relax new girl, Death doesn’t always mean actual death, usually it just means… like, losing a certain part of your life. Or even killing off a part of yourself. It’s a sign something in your life needs to be let go of, something that isn’t serving you anymore. Now… next up we have-” she began with a flip of the next one, “The Lovers. Questionable at best.”

“I thought the lovers was a good card.” Ellie spoke in confusion from next to me.

“You would think, the true card of love is oftentimes seen as Two of Cups though. The Lovers itself represents… choices, you could say. Choices, temptations, with the addition of the death card it could also indicate sacrifice?” She shrugged as if delivering the most casual piece of news ever before flipping over the last card. “Seven of Cups, you’re a daydreamer, aren’t you?” She questioned with probably the first genuine smile I had seen her crack since we’d been here.

“Being a writer, yeah, kind of comes with the territory.” I said with a nervous smile of my own.

“Keep it up, because you could find purpose in those daydreams.“ It seemed so simple compared to the other two cards, so much so I nearly felt myself hyperfixating on that one card alone even as she slid everything back into place. “Sweet, that was an intense one, but definitely juicy.”

“That’s one way to put it, I guess.” I stated with the same heat creeping back up into my cheeks almost annoyingly.

I didn’t feel super talkative throughout the rest of the night besides a quick rush to the bathroom to deliver the news of the kiss to Ellie. It was still hard to gauge her reaction. I almost wondered if she’d be happier if it was someone else, anyone else besides the fighting hockey player who had fucked my sister a solid few times. And maybe she had a point. Ellie was a quiet sort of protective though. She never stopped me from doing anything, she would give her thoughts in private declarations, and was always there if things went south. I guess maybe that’s why it was hard to know how she felt.

Luckily for her own overactive imagination though, she was a lightweight. Two beers in and it became as easy as ever for her to drag herself into her own room and knock out. I wish it could’ve been the same for me, or I drank more either way because the moment I curled up in bed sleep became impossible.

My thoughts were completely consumed by her. Her unruly and spiky pink hair she probably stained every surface with dying. The scent of her cologne that I wished lingered just a little bit longer. The feel of her warm hands on my body with her husky voice and muscular frame.

No, sleep wasn’t anywhere near in my future.

It was past 8 whenever Ellie finally woke up to find me hunched over my laptop in the living room and surrounded with various pieces of ripped paper and my journal plopped face down on the coffee table. “Woah, you’re up early.” She spoke through a yawn as she rubbed at her eyes.

“I never went to sleep.” I answered without looking up from my laptop, fingers flying across the keys.

“Christ.” Ellie cursed under her breath as she smacked her open palm against her face. “Millie, you should’ve came and got me if you were having trouble sleeping.” She groaned, shuffling forward in her mothman slippers to plop down next to me. “Babe, hands off of the keyboard for a second.” She ordered, gentle but stern hands wrapping around my wrists to pry them from the keys.

“No wait, not yet! They’re about to have their meet cute! Their- Their inciting incident.” I protested as Ellie snatched the laptop from my grasp, eyes briefly scanning over the lit up screen.

“Are you- Are you writing a love story?” She wondered in almost shock. “I thought you were working on a tragedy.”

“All love stories are inherently tragedies.” I spoke, twirling a pen I had stolen from the coffee table in between my fingers as the sudden thought sprung up into my head. “To love is to- is to-” I groaned a bit at the blurry end of the sentence somewhere in my mind, quickly flipping to an empty page of my journal to scribble down the words. “To love is be vulnerable. No, no, that’s not it.” I huffed as I roughly marked out the words. “To love is to accept loss- but love isn’t always accepting though.”

“You know love isn’t supposed to feel like that.” Ellie sighed a bit, gentle fingers carefully tucking the stray strands of hair out of my face as they had escaped from the loose ponytail a while ago.

I blew out another hefty sigh as I hunched forward to bury my head in my arms. “I’m sorry you have to deal with my mania.”

“You’re not making me deal with anything… I’m your best friend. It’s part of it.” She spoke with a shake of her head, gentle but strong arms coming upwards to tug me away from the mess of the coffee table. “C’mon, you need to get some sleep. I’ll be your pillow.”

“You just woke up, and I thought you had practice.” I protested even though I never wanted to say no to her offer of cuddles. Maybe it was inappropriate and I was a bit too obsessed with cuddles. It felt like since I was a kid it had always been hard to fall asleep without a body next to me. I couldn’t count the times I had snuck off to Caitlyn’s room in the middle of the night and crawled underneath the blankets with her. It was just the security of being next to someone. Sometimes an illusion. But I think I was okay with illusions for now.

“Not until later, and it’s only for a few hours before club rush.” Ellie answered just before stretching her longer legs across the length of the couch giving me few choices but to snuggle into her chest. “I wouldn’t mind a little bit more shut eye though, I just wanted to check on you.”

“Wake me up before you leave?” My voice sounded half muffled burrowed in her black shirt.

“Not a chance.” She denied, lounging her head against the arm rest of the couch to use as a makeshift pillow. “You can wake up on your own time and then if we’re still practicing you can meet me at the rink to watch.” She said hopefully causing a little grin to stretch on my lips.

“Sheesh, no wonder people think we’re dating. You’re a stage 5 clinger.” I teased with a giggle.

“Okay, who is the one currently clung to me like a damn koala right now? Sorry I forgot.”

“Dipshit.” I gave her shoulder a playful shove just before curling back up to her chest, it was hard not to get tired with her cuddles. She was soft, the quiet thump of her heartbeat always echoed in my ears, she kept her breathing steady, a calm rise and fall that she timed with the soothing circles she always rubbed on my back. And she smelled exactly like the way I imagined skipping through a wildflower field would. “I love you.” I murmured in a sleepy voice, my heavy eyes finally drawing to a close.

“I love you too, squirt.” I could faintly hear her voice just before I felt myself doze off.

Whenever I woke up again Ellie was already long gone, a blanket draped over top of me and a large squishmallow shoved underneath my head to act as a pillow. The apartment felt weird being empty, a few boxes that had yet to be unpacked scattered around the area and I had to fight the urge to start trying to unpack some more. Then I would probably never leave.

The lack of sleep still weighed heavily on my brain but at least I didn’t feel like I was going to keel over anymore. I threw myself in the shower for a hot second hoping it would wake me up, and thankfully it sort of did. I decided on a simple band hoodie and a pair of leggings after shooting a text to Caitlyn and asking what the dress code for club rush was. Luckily there really wasn’t one.

I rubbed at the sleep in my eyes before going to place my glasses back on my face before an alternate thought crossed my mind. I usually didn’t wear my contacts, they were difficult to get in and occasionally weren’t sensory friendly but… maybe it could be time for a change. So with a heavy breath I plopped the little pieces of plastic into my eyes, a string of blinks and a few watery tears following.

I speed braided a strand of my hair before tossing it up into a low ponytail. Then sending Ellie a quick text for a coffee order while packing my things up for a semi busy day, headphones, medicine, notebooks, laptop etc…

Ellie Sunshine ☀️: the rink actually has a sick coffee bar you have to check out 🤭

Ellie Sunshine ☀️: also abby is out for blood today- if i die just know i want to be planted into a tree. willow specifically.

Millie Moon 🌙: i’ll avenge you bby g

Ellie Sunshine ☀️: AVENGE ME MILLIE!! AVENGE ME!!

I let out a giggle at her text messages before slipping my phone back into my pocket and shoving my AirPods into my ears before I could go and retrieve my bike. I always felt a level of anxiety whenever I walked outside alone and I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the general sense that things were well and truthfully changing. I was trying to be independent though. It’s not as if Ellie and I had every single class together, there were bound to be some days we’d leave at different times. I needed to get used to it.

The indoor hockey rink was a tall and intimidating structure. Designed to look like a ship it looked more like a dystopian hell than anything. Grey and cold and the dreary weather of Oxford didn’t help either.

Practice was already in full swing working on scoring or a scrimmage or… I wasn’t entirely sure. Sports were never really my thing, nevertheless though I never turned down the chance to go to a game with Caitlyn. Call it the gay in me, I guess. That little aspect suddenly made her relationship with Vi make more sense. She was a beast on the ice, a ruthless animal who wasn’t afraid to get too rough. Not rough in the way that her teammate Abby Anderson seemed to get though. Ellie was right. She did seem to be out for blood with the way she zipped around the ice and treated her stick like it was an extension of her arm.

I gnawed on my bottom lip as I scanned the rink for Ellie’s figure while digging out my notebook. I was so glad she had finally gotten a chance to play. Playing all through high school only to have most of her time overtook by the army afterwards, she was almost afraid she was too out of practice to get back into it. She was great though, better than any typical freshman, I swore she nearly cried whenever she finally got her jersey. Proud to have her name on something for once.

A little smile stretched on my lips at the sight of her whipping around the ice with ease, a slight glimpse of unkept pink hair took my attention though as she skated in towards the puck from the opposite side. The name: Violence written in place of a last name on the back of her jersey. “Ugh, I can’t believe they let her do that.” I heard a scoff from behind me, flinching just the slightest bit before I could around to face the sound. Jinx stood on the row behind me, blue braids spun up into two thick space buns secured at the bottom of her head. “Violence. It’s so cheesy.” She hopped down into the same row as me, plopping down in the seat next to mine before lounging back on her elbows. “So- come here often?” She teased with a waggle of her eyebrows causing me to let out a little laugh.

“Uhhh… no, actually, Ellie wanted me to meet her at practice though so- I’m here.” I said with a tiny shrug while twirling my pencil around my fingers.

“What’re you working on?” Jinx wondered next with a quick change of subject as she gave my notebook a little nudge.

“Oh uhhh… just this like- song thing, I guess you could call it. I started it last night I just, you know, had this chorus in my head.” I answered with a bit of heat creeping up into my cheeks. “Y-You can read it if you want.” I wondered cautiously, always expecting the worst, but I swore I could’ve seen Jinx’s eyes light up in that moment.

“Oh! Word?!” She exclaimed with a grin before snatching the notebook from my hands without hesitation. “I’d love to!” She grinned before letting her eyes scan over the page. All the while I fidgeted with the ends of my sleeves hoping my one paragraphed unedited chorus wasn’t too bad. “Woah- you are quite down bad over somebody if I must say. I mean, it’s good! It’s definitely good… but- definitely down bad.”

My cheeks felt as rosy as ever and not just because of the cold as I shook my head, but not in denial. “I’m- I don’t know what’s going on with me. I-I haven’t felt this way since-“

“Ellie?” Jinx predicted with ease causing my eyes to widen in surprise.

“Wha- wh-why would you think that? I mean, don’t you have a close friend that everybody thinks you’re dating?”

Jinx only snickered with a smirk as she gave me a quick nudge, “Nope.” She said almost proudly with a loud pop. “I get why you guys aren’t together though, dating your mental hospital roomie can get complicated. I mean, I’m not saying that dating Vi wouldn’t be complicated either but-”

“Wait, how did you? I- I never told you any of that.”

“Doggy, was yesterday not a clue? I stay eavesdropping, I’m in everybody else’s business but my own. Especially my sister’s.” Jinx explained without a hint of shame, and I almost had to respect it.

“I- I don’t know how I feel about you watching me make out with your sister.” I spoke with my eyebrows furrowing together in response, but all I got from Jinx was a loud gasp as she gave me a little swat.

“Oh my God, new girl! I didn’t listen in to that point! Holy shit!” She practically squealed but all it made me do was cringe in anxiety. “Well, whatever it is you’re into, you might wanna figure it out. You’re not the only one who’s got a little crush.” Jinx hummed as she gave me a little nudge and gestured off towards one of the other sides of the rink where the same girl from last night was stood. Black hair tied up in a low ponytail this time, arms crossed as she peered into the rink with a look of fierce concentration.

“Well, I want Ellie to be happy so- if Ellie likes her then… I would be okay with it.” I voiced, though trying to hide the general crushing weight that crept into my chest just at the mere mention. The same ache Ellie had told me about last night. “Besides, she doesn’t like me like that- she made it really clear.”

“Did she? Because I know we’re not exactly experts at reading human emotions.”

“Well, I’m an expert at reading Ellie at least.” I shrugged with a little sigh.

A commotion knocked us both from our conversation though, a little breath hitching in my throat the moment I saw Abby’s gloved hands on Ellie again. “Stop!” I yelped out in anxiety, briefly remembering the memory of her telling me about the plethora of injuries she had received from the explosion that had changed everything, a TBI staring right at me in glowing red lights.

Their helmets went rolling down the ice as I watched the two girls hit the floor, “Fucks sake, Abby!” Ellie groaned in pain as her bare cheekbone touched the ice. Thankfully she was strong and knew how to fight back as she swung her off of her, hand flying to her cheek with a hiss of pain.

“Anderson! I told you save for the violence for the other team! That’s the second time you’ve targeted Williams in two days-“ The intimidating coach finally exclaimed from her observational spot in the wings, though part of her seemed to be willing to let it play out.

“Well maybe she should stay out of my fucking shot!” Abby exclaimed, a declaration that had me widening my eyes at her bravery that she’d speak to someone like Sevika in that way. Sevika who already looked as if she was about to blow. The Andersons were much like the Kirammans though, in the sense a lot of the faculty needed to be careful.

“I’m on fucking defense, Abby! What do you expect me to do?! A-Are you gonna do this during actual games too?!” Ellie shouted as she removed her hand to reveal the angry red splotch underneath her eye where she had been rammed into the ice.

“That was a foul, I saw it.” Vi spoke up as she flew over towards where the two girls stood just off of the ice. “She swiped her so she’d purposefully fall on her face.”

Coach Sevika held up a hand as if to tell her it’d be taken care of. “Everyone, take 5, Anderson, Williams, work out your issues and don’t come back until you do. Williams, do you need a medic?”

“I’m fine, I can take care of it.” Ellie huffed as she pushed herself off of the ice with a wince.

“Then why did you get us benched?!” Abby bellowed as she trailed close behind her to give her a firm shove.

“Hey! Stop, leave her alone!” I repeated probably helplessly for the second time, taking off down the stairs and after where the two were arguing.

For a moment I nearly saw Ellie’s past flash in her usually gentle green eyes. The US Army solider who had had to defend herself from much worse and was always prepared for the worst. I didn’t wanna know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached her whenever I did. Nearly tripping over my own two feet as I cautiously crept up next to her. She had taught me a long time ago how to approach her whenever a PTSD trigger hit. I never really got the chance to before Abby was lashing out again, darting her angered expression towards me to the point where I nearly flinched.

“Ellie why don’t you tell your fucking schizo of a girlfriend to stay out of it!”

Ellie’s eyes darkened in a way I hadn’t seen before, the way I imagined they would have on the battlefield as she whipped around to face her with an intensity that had almost gotten her her first shot against her. “What did you just fucking call her?!”

“Ellie, Ellie please- don’t.”

“What the hell is your problem, Anderson?” Vi had finally caught up to the two and I was thanking my lucky stars that she hadn’t heard what had come out of Abby’s mouth.

I gulped an anxious lump down my throat as I slid a hand into Ellie’s gloved one, attempting to pull her off towards the locker rooms but her feet were grounded in place. “I’m really fucking sorry about what happened to your dad, Abby, okay?” She finally spoke up earning me a confused expression from Vi that I could only meet with a shrug. “It was disgusting, inexcusable and it never should’ve happened and trust me whenever I say those soliders never should’ve gotten away with it and I swear to you if I would’ve had any say in it then they wouldn’t have. But respectfully if you have any shit you need to take out on me then do it off of the ice, and if you say one more word like that about Millie you’re going to see that US Army side of me real fucking fast.”

My eyes widened in shock, almost feeling like my feet were glued to the floor as I watched her whirl around and head towards the direction I had been trying to pull her in. “What did you fucking say about Millie?” Venom seemed to drip from Vi’s lips as she turned towards Abby with a fierce glare.

“Uh-oh-” I could hear Jinx’s subtle commentary causing me to curse underneath my breath.

“Man, it isn’t important, I was just pissed.” Abby tried to brush off, but Vi wasn’t having it.

“Clearly it was if you felt the need to bring her into this so tell me, what did you fucking say to her?!” Vi growled just before slamming her body into the protective glass wrapping around the rink.

“Vi- s-stop, please!” I stammered, reaching out to latch onto her broad shoulders as I tried to pry her off. She was so much bigger though, pure muscle seeming to be made out of steel as she refused to move.

“Millie, go check on Ellie, okay? I’ll handle this.” She ordered, body towering over mine even as she peered over her shoulder to face me.

“Violet please-“

“I wasn’t asking!” The words probably came out much harsher then expected causing me to wince once more. She commanded authority, and still I wondered if she was simply trying to protect me or what. But I wouldn’t challenge her after that.

“O-Okay.” I stammered, an ache settling behind my eyes as I turned on my heel to venture back into the locker room.

“Ugh, you are such a dick, do you know that?” I heard Jinx’s voice carry down the hallway, meanwhile I gulped down a heavy lump in my throat as I quickened my pace to take off in Ellie’s direction.

A/N: Two hot girls fighting for your honor- wow, living the dream 🩵

As always please let me know your thoughts! I am really am trying to slow down but it’s hard to whenever I love what I’m writing so much 🤭🥹

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woolieshubris · 1 day ago

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So, you've been sent bait: A Guide for Internet Posters and Readers

Disclaimer: I am simply an autistic internet poster with a special interest in human interaction, abuse patterns, and internet culture. I am not a scholar and I do not have a degree in these things. While I have done research into the topics of cancellation, online abuse, and harassment, I am far from an expert.

Introduction:

I've seen this happen dozens of times before. A semi popular blogger will suddenly seem embroiled in a controversial topic, receiving harassment and accusations of some pretty terrible things. It goes on for about 24-72 hours, and then poof, it seems to be completely over, (however, of course, it can be brought up again without warning.) This can be emotionally damaging for the blogger, for the supporters of that blogger, and for the shock waves it will undoubtedly send into the greater community. This also further spreads discourse and popularizes harmful ideologies to people who might have previously never heard of them. The targets are almost always trans women, (with transmisogyny doing most of the cancellation legwork) and it seems to always have the goal of turning fellow trans people against the target. (Though, of course, I've seen this done with autistic creators, nonbinary creators, ect. Trans women are just the most popular target.)

Now, the goal of this guide is to help people understand how this happens, be able to recognize the patterns of a targeted harassment campaign, and be able to try and prevent it in the future. I'll be writing this as a guide to the target, however, I think it's important for lurkers/readers to also be able to recognize these patterns so they too can avoid being manipulated into falling into these pitfalls. A large portion of this harassment initiative is to use "useful idiots" in order to do most of the legwork. As a reader, you must avoid becoming a useful idiot, (which I'll be referring to as fools from now on) and you must be able to tell when other people are being used in this manner as well. This is the most effective way to protect people from unwarranted harassment campaigns.

Section 1: Bait

Types of Bait:

You've been sent bait, but you aren't sure if it is actually bait, or a genuine question from a fan. You don't want to ignore someone's valid concern, so you answer it even though you might not be sure. This is your first mistake! If you think it might be bait, it's best to treat it as such. Think of bait asks as toxic waste. If you aren't sure, it's much better to be safe than sorry. If you receive a bait ask, your best bet is to delete it and not respond at all. Yes, it will probably rattle you, and you'll probably feel bad about deleting the question, but you need to understand that it doesn't matter. If this person was asking a genuine question, they would understand if you don't want to answer. If they get annoyed or angry at your lack of answer- they were likely asking it with the intent to hurt you.

The first type of bait is bringing up a controversial topic.

While certain topics (like queer rights, abortion, Palestinian freedom) do actually matter in the real world and I would believe are worth responding to or making your position clear (as long as it is something you do have an opinion on) this does not mean all controversial topics are equal. Many topics that are "hot debates" online do not matter in the real world. (for example, proship vs antiship). Regardless of the validity of the debate, if it doesn't matter in the real world, it likely isn't worth publicly stating your opinion on those things. That is why people who are active in those movements try to make these things seem like they have real world consequences- to try and make their debate more valid and easier to pull more people into. The real goal with many of these topics is not to try and have a reasonable discussion. The goal is to try and pull as many people into them as possible. If they can successfully get ANY response out of you, then they win. Their debate is now broadcasted on your platform. Their thoughts, arguments, philosophies are now spread to thousands of people instantly. Even if you respond with an answer like "huh?" "what?" or "what does this mean???" they still win. Your acknowledgement of the debates existence at ALL is a win for them. They get to publicly platform their beliefs on your profile. If you respond at all and express even the slightest hint of an opinion, then they will have an entire section of fools that can now send you messages about this topic. Death by a thousand paper cuts. This is the most common type of bait, and the reason is simple. Internet debates can suck in people and can quickly rot peoples brains. Like sleeper agents, people will automatically start trying to chime in the moment they see the hints of any debate. If you fall for this debate, the best thing to do is delete everything, block main players and wait it out. With any luck, it will be completely forgotten by the end of the week.

The second type of bait is an accusation.

Again, while some allegations or accusations are worth responding to, if it is completely false, not responding will be your best bet. If you do respond at all, the allegation and your name will be linked in peoples minds. Even if you deny it, people will be confused as to why it was brought up at all. They might even think that you are lying or deflecting. Responding to the accusation at all is treated as a confession. If this accusation is something you've heard before, it would be worth looking into the source of the claim- someone might be spreading lies about you. However, if this accusation is something you've never received before, it is almost certainly bait. They are trying to make you look bad. Just delete them. If this is something you are receiving from a specific person, ask them about it privately. Never respond to false accusations on your public platform unless you know the source of the accusations. If you have to respond to them, you need to link to the accusation in full, not vaguely describe them. When you vaguely describe them, then you are putting the duty on the readers to find the accusation- they'll read it on the accusers terms- putting the ball directly into the accusers court. If your reader reads it directly from the accusers, then it will automatically make your refutation look dubious by comparison. Make it easy for the reader to see the full accusation and point out the absurdity of the claims. By laying out all of the information clearly, the readers will be able to easily figure out that the claims were bogus. In future confrontations, your supporters will likely even respond to the accusers for you, now that they fully understand the arguments against you. Supporters love to correct people, and this can help you significantly- just as much as it can hurt. It's a double edged sword, so if you point it in the right direction, it can help protect you against false accusations.

The third type of bait is confusion.

This type of bait is a bit harder to spot, and it's usually blended with the other two types. This type of bait is deliberately confusing. The confusing nature is what makes it such effective bait. A vague message can be read a thousand ways, and as long as one person can spin it in a way that makes you a "horrible person" then that can quickly become the narrative. If you receive a question that you do not understand, you have no reason to answer it. If you can't answer, simply not acknowledging it at all is the smartest thing to do.

How to deal with bait:

As I've stated in the previous sub-sections, the first time you receive any type of bait, you should ignore it. The intentions of the bait may differ, but they all need to be treated in the same way- with no respect at all. Anyone who tells you otherwise is someone who wishes for you to be hurt or a fool. If you receive it more than once, try blocking the person. If you continue to receive it, then that means that in all likelihood it's more than one person sending you the bait, and it might not be bait after all. However, you should proceed with extreme caution. You do not respond to the bait- you figure out the source of the questions and answer it on your own terms. Simply making a post like "Hey, for the record, I support dolphins." will go over a thousand times better than a post that goes like "'Why do you hate dolphins?' I don't." If you are receiving bait, another way to deal with it is by turning anonymous asks off and looking into the blogs of people sending you the bait. Search terms relating to the question they asked. If it's something they seem to get into a lot of internet fights over, block them. The approach you must always consider bait with is that all of the bait asks you receive are sent by one person trying to seem like a group of people. This is on purpose- they want to intimidate you into answering. This is why blocking and turning off anonymous asks can be useful tools. It forces them to unmask themselves.

Footnote 1: The response by these bait people is often "keeping on anonymous asks allow people to feel safe in asking these important questions." Your safety is more important. This is just trying to guilt trip you. Fools will also often respond similarly. After all, it can sound compelling. However you are not a publicly traded company. You do not need transparency. You do not have body guards or multiple employees. You are a singular person with a right to privacy and safety.

Summary

In this section, we discussed the main types of bait: controversial, accusatory, and confusing. We also talked about the best way to deal with each type, as well as the pitfalls of responding to each type, and how to deal with a larger harassment campaign.

If you personally have fallen victim to any of these techniques, either as a fool or a poster, I can understand how you might feel- however the important aspect of these types of bait is that they can and do trick people. If they didn't work, they wouldn't be used. It is not your fault for falling for it- it is completely on the perpetrators of this abuse. However, I hope this guide can help people to protect themselves or recognize when these things are happening to them.

#long post #so you've been sent bait #this is a series im writing on dealing with harassment and bait- im doing this partially because #ive seen this used to harass many people i respect #and also because i think it might be nice to have a tumblr specific guide using tumblr internet culture #many of these types of guides are specific to twitter or less anonymous social medias like instagram #i would greatly appreciate any feedback or reviews! this is a work in progress and i want to make sure i cover all bases

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the-fab-fox · 7 hours ago

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Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.

This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.

All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.

But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.

Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:

This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?

Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)

The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.

So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.

NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.

Excuses need to stop.

Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.

In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.

We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!

So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!

TLDR:

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)

IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.

DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)

That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.

(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #twst fanart #fe3h #fe3h fanfic #fe3h fanart #fire emblem three houses #writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic #fanart #fanartist #fan artist #fandom #fe3h fandom #twst fandom

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ispeakforthetrees19 · 2 days ago

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Puck Me

Summary: Hockey Player Levi and Figure Skating Coach Reader make a bet...who will win?

A/N: I can't stop writing this and I'm having too much fun with it to enjoy it alone. I suck shit at fancy Tumblr HTML and theme, but here it is.

This story is based on some of my own experiences as a figure skater. This will eventually feature smut, and I will update the tags as I go. I may update again this weekend. Thanks to my beta @nilfgaardianleviosa, as always.

Cross posted to AO3.

Tags: Levi Ackerman/Reader, AU-Modern Setting, Hockey Player Levi Ackerman, Figure Skater and Coach Reader, Enemies to Lovers, You know where this is going, this will be explicit in the future, 2nd person POV, female reader.

TW: bad words, fuckboys

Words: 2.7k

Chapter 1: Teaching Tots

You step out onto the ice with Petra, fresh and smooth after the Zamboni cleaned up from morning sessions. You bend your ankles, testing your laces to make sure they’re tight enough, and start skating around the rink, warming up against the cold air.

You do some basic footwork and finally you feel warm enough to take off your jacket, leaving you in leggings and a form-fitting long-sleeve shirt. Petra is at the boards when you skate up to hang your jacket on the side; she has her foot up, stretching out her hamstrings.

Public ice is pretty dead today, maybe ten or fifteen people in rental skates starting to get on and wobble their way around the ice as they cling to the wall. You smile at the toddler bravely making their way out to the center, holding onto the PVC pipe support that kids use to stay upright. His mom calls out to him, begging him to come back to where she can’t leave the wall, too unstable in the mediocre skates with limited ankle support.

“Wanna run through jumps?” Petra asks, smiling at you with her big, hazel eyes.

You shrug. “Sure.”

You and Petra each claim a side of the ice, doing crossovers to gain speed, running through your single jumps in order, then your doubles. You’re warm now, and you take off your shirt, grateful for the cool air to hit your arms and shoulders uncovered by the tank top you have underneath.

“Fuck, my double lutz is kicking my ass,” Petra complains as she finds her way next to you. “I just can’t get enough oomph on the entrance.”

“That’s because your toe picks are weak as fuck,” you laugh, pointing to her blades. “They aren’t big enough to really dig in and get you the momentum you need to get your ass in the air.”

“But your blades are so expensive,” Petra whines, looking down at your skates.

“Black Friday still happens for figure skaters,” you remind her. “It’s almost the holidays, why not put it on your Christmas list? Not like your dad can say no to you anyway.”

Petra laughs and pushes your shoulder. “Maybe I will. Hey, are you working on your triples?”

You grimace and shake your head. “A little. Waiting for the bruises on my hips to subside before I bruise them again.”

Petra’s about to respond when you hear loud voices whooping from across the ice. You turn to look at the hockey team getting on the ice and roll your eyes.

“God, the Titans,” Petra mutters. “Don’t they have practice later?”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Tell me you aren’t already drooling over Ackerman being on the same sheet of ice as you.”

Her cheeks light up pink, and she shakes her head furiously. “No! It’s just—ugh, he’s so distracting.”

You laugh at her embarrassment, pulling her wrist to drag her away from the boards. “Come on, let’s work on our jumps before they take over the whole ice running drills.”

Petra pouts but follows, and you both run through some more doubles before the hockey team starts running exercises, tearing through the ice with their abrupt stops and deep edges.

Eventually, you give up trying to squeeze in practice and just skate around the rink with Petra, staying out of the hockey players’ way.

“I’m annoyed,” Petra pouts. “I wanted your help on my double axel.”

You shrug. “They’ll get off like thirty minutes before practice so they can gear up.”

“But the ice will be ruined!” Petra whines.

You laugh at her valid complaints. “Well, if you can learn to land a double axel on shitty ice, think about how well you’ll do in competition with fresh ice.”

Petra visibly debates your logic for a moment before nodding. “I can try.”

You’re about to suggest a break for hot chocolate and a protein bar when you hear, “Oh shit!” and something solid collides into you.

Arms wrap around your waist, and you turn mid-fall, your back pressed against firm muscle of someone’s chest as you go sliding across the ice.

“What the fuck?” you ask as the arms release you to roll onto the ice.

You look over to see Levi Ackerman himself, captain of the hockey team, groaning as he pulls himself off the ice. “For someone who looks as good as you do in tights, you sure weigh more than you look.”

You sit up, glaring at his smug expression. “Excuse me?”

“Just saying,” he mutters, getting to his feet. He extends a hand out to you to help you up and you swat it away, getting up yourself.

“Can you watch where the fuck you’re going?” you ask him bitterly.

“Can you? You know we’re running drills,” Levi says, crossing his arms at your rejection of his assistance.

“I was skating forward! You hit me from behind!” you protest. “How am I supposed to watch out when you sneak up on me?”

“Pay attention, princess,” Levi says mockingly. “It’s not just your ice.”

You’re absolutely fuming, ready to unleash on him, when you feel Petra’s hand on your arm.

“Are you okay?” she asks, noticing the snow in your hair.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, looking away from Levi’s piercing blue eyes. “Jackass knocked me off my feet.”

“Jackass?” Levi questions, irritation shining through his expression.

“Yeah,” you say emphatically. “Jackass. I think it’s perfect to describe you. Or do you prefer Captain Jackass?”

“Bitch,” he mutters, skating away back to his team who are carefully watching the interaction.

“Fucking hockey players,” you grumble to Petra, who loops her arm through yours as you start to skate around the rink again. “Think they own the ice. It’s not even time for their practice and they’re running drills, terrorizing the public skaters.”

“Yeah,” she says, unconvincingly. “Jerks. But hey, at least he broke your fall, right?”

You turn to look at her, mouth parted open in shock. “Seriously? He slammed into me from behind and you’re giving him brownie points for not knocking me unconscious?”

“Well,” Petra says sheepishly. “I saw him turn so that he fell against the ice and didn’t fall on top of you. He was going pretty fast.”

You press your mouth into a line, shaking your head. “You’re a simp, you know that? An Ackerman simp. He could burn this rink down and you’d still justify it, fawning over him.”

Petra protests and you giggle at her poorly crafted excuses. You shake your head, pulling her off the ice to the lobby, where it’s warm and loud.

“Hey,” your boss says, waving at you from the rental counter. “I know it’s not your day for Learn to Skate, but we need coverage on Saturday. Can you do it?”

“Miche, come on!” you whine, sighing dramatically. “I work two of the three sessions every week. Tuesdays and Thursdays. One day more than my contract actually says, because I’m so generous and nice.”

“It’s just the tots,” he says, eyes pleading.

“Miche, no!” you exclaim, unable to help the smile spreading across your face. “You know I hate teaching the little ones.”

“Come on,” he says. “I booked a trip out of town for Nanaba and I’s anniversary and I totally forgot she’s on Saturday rotation. Please, help me woo my wife and preserve my marriage.”

“Miche, you’re really a piece of work,” you sigh. “You know I can’t say no to helping my coach.”

“I knew there was a reason you’re Nanaba’s favorite,” he says with a smile. “Thank you so much!”

“You owe me!” you call over your shoulder, walking over to the viewing bench. “Man, I can’t believe I have to cover the tots. I hate that shit.”

“But they’re so cute,” Petra protests.

You groan at her utter betrayal. “No, they aren’t! They fall and cry, and cry and fall, for almost an hour. It’s horrible. I finally worked my way out of teaching tots.”

“It’s just one Saturday,” Petra consoles. “Plus, I’m on Saturdays too! We can get lunch after.”

You pout your lips out at her. “Fine. We can get lunch.”

Your blood is pumping as you skate down the rink, edges ripping into the ice as you precisely carve delicate swirls with your blades. Loud techno music plays over the speakers as you skate, all in perfect synchronicity with the other skaters as you do footwork.

“Faster!” Coach Pixis is sitting on the boards at the side of the rink, sipping from a water bottle that certainly isn’t filled with water.

You reach the goal line and circle back to run the same footwork back down the way you came. Power class continues like this for another twenty minutes until Pixis finally dismisses you, calling it “slightly less than abysmal this time”.

As he swings his legs over the boards to walk back to the lobby, you collapse onto the ice, chest heaving. Your best friend peers at you from where she stops beside you, eyes curious.

“You alright?” she asks, out of breath herself. Petra’s face is flushed after thirty minutes of on-ice cardio.

“So...sweaty,” you groan, enjoying the feeling of the cold against your overly warm skin. “Cold feels good.”

“You’re in a tank top, you’ll get ice burn if you don’t get up,” Petra chides. “Come on, it’s almost time for hockey practice anyway.”

You reach up a hand and she pulls you to your feet. You brush the snow off of your leggings and tell her you’ll catch up, grabbing your jacket and water bottle from the boards.

The hockey players spill onto the ice, immediately skating laps at high speed forward and backward around the rink, warming up. You purse your lips, annoyed that they couldn’t wait another fifteen seconds for you to grab your shit and get off, instead making it nearly impossible for you to reach the exit closest to the coach’s room, meaning you now have to walk around the entire rink from the bench.

You decide to wait them out, annoyed with their crappy behavior. You lean against the boards, your things in your arms, for the full five minutes, watching them, making eye contact, waving at one or two that you know.

They run laps until Commander Erwin calls for them to line up on the blue line in front of him. When he does, you leisurely skate behind the group of men to get off at the exit you wanted.

They all turn around to watch you, evidently surprised you didn’t chew them out like usual for doing this. You smile at them, your eyes finding Levi’s from where he’s smirking at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and exit the ice, feeling him watch you until you disappear behind the bleachers.

Petra is inside the coach’s room already, unlacing her skates as she sits in her assigned chair. You sit in your spot next to her, following suit.

“Ugh, did you see Levi?”

You roll your eyes at Petra’s simpering expression and wide, hazel eyes.

“Why are you such a simp for him? For any hockey player? They’re dicks and they smell bad,” you complain.

“Not Levi,” she says with a dreamy look on her face. “Remember? He helped me when I cut my hand.”

“He wrapped a dirty hockey rag around your hand and told you to stop bleeding on his ice,” you say flatly. “He’s not exactly a knight in shining armor.”

Petra continues on, dithering about how Levi is, in fact, kind of an asshole but if you look past his harsh words, sour attitude, huge ego, and generally rude demeanor, there’s probably a decent guy in there. Yeah, okay.

You slip on your tennis shoes and pull Petra out to the lobby, grabbing a Gatorade and a protein bar from the concession stand.

“Let’s sit on the bleachers,” Petra says, trying to be nonchalant.

“Because we don’t spend enough time here, let’s go watch the hockey players on our break?” you ask sarcastically.

But it’s hard to say no to Petra, with her wide eyes and pouty lips. So you cave, agreeing to go sit on the bleachers, grateful for the cool metal against your back as you lay against the bench. Petra sits at attention, watching the players skate up and down the ice, practicing formations and plays.

“He’s looking over here!” she practically squeals.

You roll your eyes, scrolling through Spotify for a bass-laden playlist to mentally prepare for spending an hour with the tots later this morning.

There’s a loud crash against the boards and you jump, nearly falling off the bench. You shoot up, glaring at the plexiglass, behind which stands a smug Levi Ackerman, smirking at you. He raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs, feigning innocence. How mature, hitting the boards to startle you.

Petra gives you a sidelong glance, a slight furrow in her brows as you roll your eyes at Levi who’s wiggling the fingers in his glove in a semblance of wave. For which you return a middle finger, setting off a round of laughs between his teammates.

You look over at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she’s so concerned about, but she shakes her head and turns back to face the ice, eyes watching intently as they start running drills.

Later, you teach the tots a fun fishing game, where they pull out fish from the ‘pond’ you drew on the ice with a marker, and then you teach them how to skate away according to the type of fish they caught. It’s nearly time to go, and the class has been surprisingly smooth.

However, as your last student pulls out a “big fish! So big and scary!”, and you all skate backwards away from it, doing swizzles on their unsteady little feet, your smallest skater falls.

Oh fuck, here we go.

He looks up at you with wide eyes, lip trembling as he clutches his hand to his chest. He’s two feet tall, you know he’s fine, but he thinks he’s hurt, so you let out a quiet sigh and kneel next to him.

“Oh bud, that was a big fall,” you say empathetically, pulling off your gloves and taking his ‘injured’ hand between yours. “You did great though.”

“I did?” he asks tearfully, clearly wanting to have a huge meltdown but also wanting to hold it together to earn your praise.

“You did,” you confirm with a nod. “You know what I do when I hurt myself from falling? I take a big deep breath, and I shake the ouch out. Have you ever done that?”

He shakes his head no, eyes wide, and you smile at him, a little charmed by his chubby cheeks.

“Hey, isn’t that the chick you nearly took out on public the other day?” Eren nods to the ice as he throws his bag over his shoulder coming out of the locker room. “Is she a coach?”

Levi looks over and sees you kneeling down on the ice, holding the hands of a tot who must have taken a fall. He watches you shake out your hands, and the little boy imitates you. You throw your head back to laugh at the boy’s enthusiasm, quickly wiggling his whole body, and take his hand to pull him back to the other tots who have been watching curiously.

You lead them in a line that snakes around the designated area until you reach the door of the rink, making sure they all get off and into the waiting arms of their parents.

He catches your eye, thinking about how pretty you look when you aren’t flipping him off or cussing him out. You give him a hesitant smile before you’re pulled into a conversation with one of the parents.

Eren is looking at him, mouth open as he watches Levi watch you. “Uh, hello?”

Levi looks at him blandly. “Yeah, yeah. She must be a coach if she’s teaching Learn to Skate.”

Eren raises an eyebrow at him. “You look like you’re down bad. For a figure skating coach, of all people.”

“Fuck off, Yeager,” Levi says, pushing him into the wall as he heads for the doors.