#but that’s not really saying a whole lot either

[squarebracketsmileyface]

It might not feel like it's burning you, but if your skin is coming away mottled looking after use of your heating things, be they blankets, pads, hot water bottles, whatever, that is a burn. I know it might not feel like one and you, like me, probably just wanna dismiss it because, "well it's not painful and how can it be a problem if it's not painful? I'm in pain all the time and people say that's not an issue, so why would this painless thing be an issue?" But if you have that sort of burn chronically (as in, recurrently, you keep getting/renewing that burn over and over again for weeks at a time every winter) it can increase your risk of skin cancer down the line, which is just a whole other issue that you probably really don't want to have to deal with living with once you get there, more doctors visits, more meds, more surgeries to heal from etc etc etc, and you really don't wanna have to manage that on top of your other issues down the line.

I had to stop using my hot water bottle a month or so ago because my mum noticed this type of burn on my stomach, and the discoloration is still on my skin despite no more prolonged exposure to heat against my skin like that. My hot water bottle burned me through my fluffy pyjamas and a fluffy hot water bottle cover, so unless you're adding a LOT of layers, that won't save you from getting burned, either. It was still a burn, even though it never hurt, never felt like it was burning me. It's a burn due to prolonged exposure to a lower heat, rather than short exposure to a much higher heat like you might get if you touch a hot pan or spill boiling water on you directly, but it's still a burn.

happy winter fellow cripples. please remember that your heated blanket/pad can and will burn you 😔

[no-144444]

winners and losers- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist, mentions of crashes and injuries.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

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As you stepped out of the car, you were Champion of the World. The first woman to do so. The only woman to do so. You were a legend. You were going to be remembered, whether people liked it or not. 

You ran straight over to Oscar, knowing he was the only one you’d ever want to celebrate with. He caught you as you ran over and practically jumped on him. He caught you, holding you against him as he beamed with pride. 

He rested his hands on either side of your face, the both of you being covered in champagne by the rest of the team. “You did it,” he cheered. 

“We did it,” you reminded him, then pulled him into a tight hug. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You weren’t a party animal, so you’d decided you wanted to go to a movie, and as you stood outside Oscar’s room, you really wondered what the fuck you were doing. You wanted to ask him to come with you, but as your hand finally met the wood, your heart dropped. You realised how a movie sounded, and well, you already felt conflicted enough from rejecting him. 

He opened the door immediately, a comfy hoodie and sweats on, his hair a bit messy, and his eyes half closed. You felt a little overdressed in your jeans. 

“Y/n?” he smiled when he registered that it was in fact, you. 

“Hi,” you smiled. 

“Hi,” he smiled back, leaning against the doorway. “W-What are you doing here?” 

“I was going to go see a movie, if you wanted to come with me. There’s a cinema down the street,” you explained. “Obviously, if you’re exhausted or just not into movies, that’s fine. I was just wondering.”

Was Oscar Piastri into movies? No, not really. He probably couldn’t even name 3 Christmas movies, and everyone knows Christmas movies. Was Oscar Piastri exhausted after a tense weekend? Absolutely. But was Oscar Piastri going to give up the chance to sit right beside you for 2 (perhaps 3) interrupted hours and enjoy the silent pleasure of your company?

Fuck no. 

So you were both at the cinema in under 5 minutes. You’d insisted on paying for the food, which he insisted on paying for the tickets (ever the gentleman), and you both quickly got to your seats. Neither of you really knew what the film was about, you’d just wanted to turn your brain off for a few hours, and he planned on staring at you the whole time. But not in a creepy way. 

Quickly, the film started, and you were hooked, your eyes darting all around the screen, following the characters. Oscar’s eyes stayed on you. More specifically, the way your hand was holding his. He froze when it happened, unsure what to do, but after a few minutes his body un-tensed and his brain started working again, and he started gently smoothing his thumb over your skin. You were soft, as soft as he remembered you to be when you two had danced together. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You hadn’t planned on crying when the mother in the film died, but it hit you like a bag of bricks and you genuinely left the theatre crying. Oscar, ever the gentleman, noticed immediately and pulled you into one of his perfect, Oscar hugs. The ones that make everything feel like it’s ok. You quickly started rushing out apology after apology, but he was quicker to shut you down, citing random studies saying people who cry at movies are more emotionally intelligent and strong. You didn’t feel very strong holding onto him so hard you thought you might break one of his ribs, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

The walk back to the hotel room was once again, filled with the silence you both loved dearly, but holding his hand. When he walked you up to your hotel room, he stood at the door, watching you open it with your key card. 

“Night,” he smiled, ready to collapse into his bed. 

You stared at him for a moment, clearly in quiet contemplation. He just looked right back at you, enjoying the view. Your teary eyes and irritated nose were pretty adorable in his opinion, and even in the low light of the hotel corridor, your eyes still sparkled just like usual. 

You took a step closer and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, making him almost gasp out loud. 

“Night,” you smiled and rushed inside, jumping into bed and overthinking the tiny cheek kiss you’d given him. 

Sleep also evaded him that night, too wired to think about anything other than your lips on his skin and how he could make it happen again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Halfway through the second triple header, in Qatar, you found yourself… regretful of that night in Baku, and feeling increasingly good about that night in Vegas. Oscar was no different than before, still the constant pillar of strength keeping you afloat in your mad world. You found yourself wondering about his feelings, wondering if you had them too and just didn’t realise. You liked his unruly hair. You liked his stupid jokes. You liked how much he went on about cricket. You liked his family. You liked his dorky knowledge on things. You liked the way he didn’t realise how beautiful he really was. You liked him. A lot more than you’d ever liked anyone else before. You hadn’t realised when it happened, but Osccar was one of the reasons you woke up. Oscar was who you got in the car for. Oscar was your person.

Fuck. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Oscar jumped out of the car, rushing to get to the paddock in time. He had woken up late (again), and he just had to get your morning coffee, so he was already running a little bit late. As much as he tried to hide it, it did kind of hurt to be rejected by you. I mean, what was he thinking? An F1 driver being into him? It was a silly pipe dream he wished Lando never exposed. 

He quickly rounded a corner, and finally, you were in his sights. You sat at a table, wearing a white dress and white shoes, talking with someone on the phone. He thought you looked beautiful. That white dress. Was it silly that he was thinking about weddings? 

“Morning,” you called out, a soft smile on your face. The shadows cast from the sunlight made your eyes shine even more, if that were possible. 

“Morning,” he breathed out, sitting across from you and pushing the cup over. You took it with a grateful nod and continued listening to the person on the other side. He took a sip of his own drink and just let himself stare. He saw the way a strand of hair fell over your forehead, he saw the freckles on your face, the way you scrunch your nose up, the way you… the way you were you. And he loved it all. All the sarcastic jokes, all the batshit screaming on the radio, all of the insane and deeply romantic things you’d done together. 

You put your phone down. “Hi.”

He smiled. “Hi.”

“How are you?” you asked, gently messing with the lid of your cup. 

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” he asked, feeling as though you were hiding something. 

“I’m good,” you nodded. “I got you a gift,” you blurted out, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You did? What for?”

“Christmas,” you said like it was obvious.

“It’s November-”

“We’ll have no time in Abu Dhabi,” you explained. “And I really wanted to give this to you myself.”

“Ok,” he shrugged, his heart swelling as those words. You wanted to give it to him yourself. 

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” you instructed and he did so without hesitation. Something was placed in his hand. A small, rectangular box, he assumed. “Open them.”

He opened his eyes and was met with a gold bracelet with a tiny walkie-talkie charm on it. It was beautiful and heartfelt, and somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you. He let himself giggle slightly, looking back up at your mischievous smile. “I love it,” he answered truthfully. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad,” you smiled. “You’ve really been my rock this year, and I really appreciate it. Thank you Osc. No one asked you to step up and be my friend, but you did, and I really appreciate all of the support.”

He smiled, taking your hand. “I’d do it again anytime. You’re incredible, and you deserve to know that.”

You smiled bashfully. “So are you.”

He couldn’t help but wonder what that meant. And he couldn’t help but hope it meant more.  

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Up to fifth gear, down to third. 

It was methodical. You were world champion, you’d won it back in Las Vegas, but you still had to fight for the Constructors, and Ferrari were not going down without a fight. You finished Qatar with a podium, but not enough to secure the championship, so onward to Abu Dhabi it went. 

“That was a good race today. Y/n up in P3, just behind the Ferrari’s and Lando in P5. We picked up some good points, but we’ll really need to push in Abu Dhabi, alright guys?” Zak smiled, and everyone groaned in agreement. 2 triple headers after one-another was truly torture, but whatever, you’d be at home in Monaco in 2 weeks time. No racing, no people, just you and your evergrowing reading list. 

Oscar nudged you. “What’s your plans for Christmas?” he asked. 

“Nothing, really,” you shrugged, trying to keep your voice down as Zak continued his pep talk. 

Oscar frowned. “Alone?”

You nodded, completely happy with your answer. His frown deepened. “Come to Australia,” he offered. 

You shook your head. “I will not impose on your family Christmas-”

“My entire family loves you Y/n, please. It’d be as much for them as it is for me.”

You smiled. “You really want me there?” 

He nodded, a bright smile on his face. “I do. I really do-”

“Those your wedding vows?” Lando spoke up. 

You just rolled your eyes, ignoring him. “Ask your parents if it’s alright first, yeah?”

He beamed. “Will do.”

Australia for Christmas, that would be new. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

To say that Oscar didn't have his own agenda when asking you to come to Australia would definitely be a fat lie. After the night in Baku and the night in Vegas, he was becoming increasingly sure that you did like him back, and he thought that getting you to relax in Australia would let you feel comfortable enough to confess to him. Sounds slightly sinister, he knew, but he also knew his mother would murder him the second his feet touched Australian ground if she found out he was leaving you alone at Christmas. 

He had time now. He just needed you.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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[hottiesforhockey]

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. 

[local-crying-boy]

🄴🄺🄺🄾

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𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥����𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕖

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙴𝚔𝚔𝚘 𝚡 𝙶𝙽!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙾𝚗𝚎-𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚙𝚛𝚎-𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚜𝚑��𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝙴𝚔𝚔𝚘 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌,𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙴𝚔𝚔𝚘 (𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚒𝚖)

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 <<𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛, 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 '𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜-𝚏𝚢' 𝙴𝚔𝚔𝚘'𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚖𝚊𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 951

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The fireflies didn’t have much, but, when they had built up their little civilisation, they built what they needed to live and not just survive.

The bare tree that was once founded by Ekko all that time ago, had flourished into a beautiful place in the Undercity that was able to accommodate all kinds of people in need, families were built there, even in all the horrible conditions of the Undercity, even with Silco’s damaging and brutal leadership.

There were people from all ages, from all different backgrounds (all backgrounds from the Undercity, that is), all who ended up in this quaint place. A simple tree. A tree that was able to survive even down in the Undercity.

The symbol of survival, against all odds.

Though, sometimes, even a symbol, such as this, needs some Christmas cheer, right?

Well, that was exactly what you had in plan! Collecting all the little ones from the secret base, you asked them to collect some objects to bring a little bit more cheer to the tree.

Of course, they obliged, running around as if they had decided to make it a little game amongst one another. You, then, went on your own little quest, trying to salvage any ‘Christmasy’ lights you could find that was discarded due to being broken, or not needed anymore.

When you returned with some sort of working lights and the children returned with anything that held some Christmas cheer, you set out to work on brightening up the place with the children’s help.

Maybe you should have asked for Ekko's permission before deciding to do it, but... everyone in the Fireflies needed some joy and moral around the place, sure, most of the people living by this somehow surviving tree were already happy, but, sometimes, even there, happiness was rough to hold onto.

It meant that Ekko was rather surprised, to say the least, when he returned from the day away from his home to see how decorated it was now due to yourself and the little ones.

"So, I've been hearing from the children around here that they helped with decorating around here." You heard a familiar voice when it was late evening.

You turned around from the makeshift desk you were at, having just been trying to fix up your hoverboard. You chuckled light and shrugged. “Well, really, I helped them out.”

Ekko shrugged, pushing himself off of where he was leaning against to walk over to you. “Either way, they seemed happy.”

You smiled to yourself, that was the whole goal of the decorations: to make the children here happy.

“Thanks.” Ekko simply said, having been looking at you when he said it, but he soon looked down at your hoverboard.

You gave him a small nod, you would have done similar stuff for everyone here, but resources were limited and it would have been harder. The children were easier to please, and happy kids meant happy adults. “No problem.”

“It’s… hard to keep moral up, since, y’know, we don’t have a lot.” Ekko continued, he really didn’t have to, it was common knowledge around here, but he continued regardless. “And you help out with that, more than you need to.”

You let out a shocked laugh, the little comment on your attempts wasn’t something you had expected. You didn’t really think about everything you did around here, you simply did it because you thought it would help out, even in the slightest.

“You could be miserable, or focused on all the negatives, like everyone else.” he pointed out, looking up at you, he trailed off though once both of your eyes met.

You let out a chuckle, breaking the eye contact between you to look down as you shook your head. “Now, that wouldn’t help, you know that.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, now, also looking away from you.

There was a moment of silence between you two, but he broke it eventually.

“Is it broken?” Ekko asked, his hand motioning towards the hoverboard of yours on the table.

Your focused moved onto your hoverboard, you had almost completely forgotten it was there. “Oh, yeah. I went out on it the other day, took too sharp of a turn and something broke in it.”

Your finger ran over a part of it, a grimace on your face as you remembered how you fell, you’d still been bruised up from it. “Been meaning to fix it, but…”

“You’ve been playing around with the kids?” He finished for your sentence with a laugh.

You nodded, placing your hands on your hips as you laughed alongside with him. “Yeah. Yeah…”

“I’ll fix it for you.” Ekko offered, looking down at it once more, as if he was already planning on what to do to fix it, you could have sworn you saw the clogs in his head.

You shook your head, there was no need, you knew what you were doing. “That’s fine, I got it.”

“No, no, I insist.” Ekko said with a wave of his hand, the same hand soon running over the hoverboard, mapping out what needed fixing.

It looked fine at first glance, but Ekko was easily able to see what was wrong with it.

“Consider it a Christmas present.” He said with a shrug.

You laughed, shaking your head as your arms crossed over your chest, there wasn’t really much point with arguing with the guy. “Fine, fine, go for it. It’ll probably get done faster.”

He hummed, glancing over at you as he moved to pick it up. “It would’ve been done the other day, have you told me it was broken.”

You could only let out a chuckle. “Thanks, Ekko.”

“No problem.” He only said as a response.

The white haired boy was quick to leave with your hoverboard in his arms, and you only watched.

Now, you had to think of something to do for him for Christmas.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Masterlist

[sseulforgii]

stay a little longer

Kim Minjeong x Reader

a/n: I just have Rosé’s album on repeat and I can’t get this out of my head. I'm sorry, I know it's Christmas 😭

thank you @rd0265667 and @seullovesme for going over this first. mwa!

Minjeong woke up from a fitful sleep. It's been days since she's been like this, a heavy pit in her stomach whenever she wakes up. She looks over to where you are sleeping turned away from her. You were in the same bed and yet you seem so far away from each other. With a heavy sigh she got out of bed and started to get ready for the day.

Unbeknownst to Minjeong, you have been awake too. In fact, you haven't slept for days since you felt something shift in your relationship but you kept it all to yourself. You found yourself just watching her sleep sometimes seeing how peaceful she is and you wish nothing more for her to always have that kind of peace even as you swallow a lump forming in your throat and tears forming in your eyes. You made yourself smaller on your side of the bed when you felt her move and pretended to sleep. It was easier that way. You didn't wanna see her pretend to be okay this early in the morning, as much as you can, you'd give her space.

When Minjeong was dressed and ready to go, she stood by the door of your bedroom looking at you curled up on the bed. She doesn't know how to feel or what to do so she just looked at you for a little while more before eventually deciding to go near you.

You heard her footsteps coming and you were surprised but tried to breathe evenly. You didn't want to move 'cause you didn't wanna startle her and lose a brief moment you might share.

Minjeong crouched down in front of you and traced your cheek with her finger. She smiled a little, your cheeks were still her favorite to pinch and poke after all. She contemplated on kissing your forehead but decided against it in case you suddenly wake up. She was in no state to see your sleepy brown eyes staring back at her. So she got up and looked at you one last time before leaving.

You were holding your breathe the whole time as well as the tears that's starting to form in your eyes. You wished so bad that she would either stop or just kiss you and shower you with affection. But you felt her move and heard her receding footsteps. When the door finally closed, you felt your tears flowing. You were catching your breath by the time you realized you were crying and you didn't know how to stop.

Minjeong was trying her best to act normal around you. She really wanted this to work out, but somewhere down the road she fell out of love. She feels so guilty about it and she tries her hardest to keep you happy and not let you know anything's wrong. She's thinking she'll be able to keep it up long enough for her to go back to how she feels for you. After all, she was the one who wanted you first so why does it feel like this now for her? And she can tell that you love her still with every smile and every affection thrown at her, and yet she feels like you're holding yourself back at times. It makes her wonder if you can feel it too - that subtle shift somewhere.

You and Minjeong weren't always like this. You're such a goofy pair - a perfect match as your friends say. You were both so smart and share almost the same likes. You always loved how witty and creative Minjeong is. Minjeong adores how sweet and kind you are. While Minjeong is quiet at times, you are bustling with energy and talks a lot and she listens to you with so much adoration in her eyes that you tend to shy away at times or get conscious about it. But she always assures you that she loves it. Both of you balance each other out that way.

Recently, you often get conscious about talking too much when you spend time with her, that you tend shy away and just sit quietly at dinner or when watching a movie with her. Only this time, there's only guilt in Minjeong's eyes that she's trying so hard to hide from you. Now you're both walking on a tightrope trying your hardest not to let each other fall off.

You were both trying. Minjeong, so clueless of what you are feeling, thinks she can still salvage what's left of your relationship. You, on the other hand, are just barely keeping it together although you know it's probably time to let her go.

So you made up your mind. You planned a perfect weekend together, which surprised Minjeong but she went along with it thinking maybe this is a good thing for the both of you. While in your mind, you're already pleading that this will make her stay with you longer, even though you know it is a battle you already lost.

You cooked all her favorite food, watched her favorite movie, talked about her work, and played lots of games. It was fun for the both of you. You were both genuinely smiling and laughing, but you can see the sadness behind it. You can sense how bittersweet the day was as it came to an end.

You smiled at Minjeong and took her hand as you guided her outside the balcony to look at the night sky. She was looking at you, you can feel it. You sighed and looked at her as you hold back tears. "Thank you for such a wonderful day, Minjeong." You say as you rub circles on the back of her hand. A nervous habit you sort of picked up when you're trying to soothe both her and yourself. She smiles at you, "of course. I had fun today."

You take a shaky breath and look out the horizon. "Minjeong, can I ask you something?" Her brows furrowed as she squeezed your hand. "Of course, baby. What is it?" She asks, and you almost melt as your tears start to well up when you heard her call you baby. You stumble over your words, trying to form a coherent thought. Minjeong looks over at you worriedly and squeezes your hand once more.

“I don’t know how to form it into words,” you confess. Minjeong tries her best to soothe you, “it’s okay, baby. Just try and I’ll understand.” You look at her and you see worry and guilt swimming in her eyes. It was all the push that you needed to finally let her go.

“Minjeongie, are you…” you choked back a sob and looked elsewhere before continuing. “Are you happy?” It was followed by complete and utter silence. You were scared to look over at her and so you continue after taking a huge breath. “Do you still want this? Us? Because honestly, Minjeong, you can tell me if this is no longer what you want. I’d rather lose you than see you so unhappy.”

You closed your eyes for a bit and steadied your breathing before risking a peak at the girl beside you. She was looking ahead with such somber eyes that it broke your heart further and cemented the thought that this was the right thing to do. “Have you been feeling that way for a long time now?” She softly asked. You owed her the truth no matter how much you wanna sugar coat everything. “Yeah, for a while now,” you replied just as quietly - afraid that if you say it louder it will become more true.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. You shake your head smiling at her although you’re in the brink of breaking down. “It’s nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I’m sorry. I knew for a while now and I still held on. I wanted you to stay a little longer, but each passing day I feel I’m being more of a burden than a rest for you and I don’t want that.” Minjeong held on to you tighter, trying to convey her feelings as she knows she won’t be able to put it into words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again and you close your eyes as you feel her pull you in for a hug. You savor the moment, for you know this is all you have left. So with the last bit of your strength, you enveloped her tighter and you stayed this way for a little bit longer before you catch your breath and let her go.

[numberonetacostan]

ONE HEADCANON FOR EVERY II CHARACTER!

Hello everyone!!!!!^^ For a little holiday season special, I’ve typed out a little headcanon for every character!!! By character I mean contestants + host + assistants!!!!! Sorry to all the Nick Le fans out there, he is not included. Since everyone is here, there are characters I may not know as well as my main roster, so if I get anything like, objectively wrong, feel free to let me know!!!^^ Please enjoy!!! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Apple- Her favorite song is Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. She doesn’t really understand the lyrics but she really likes ponies!!!! I also think she’d start misspelling her name as “Appell” pretty often after she finds the song. 

Balloon- The first thing Suitcase does with her prize money is buy him a poetry book. He is so very moved by this and writes her dozens of poems with various styles he sees in the book within a few days. He’d read from the book and his own works to Suitcase every night before they go to bed. Some others could join in for a nice bedtime story :). 

Baseball- Once, while the hotel was under construction, Baseball fell down the stairs. And then kept rolling. And rolling. And bouncing. And rolling some more. Overall it set construction back two weeks and Paintbrush broke their leg trying to help stop him. Baseball was banned from the hotel until the elevators were finished. 

Bomb- He can’t eat spicy food. As in he’s banned from eating spicy food. If he gets too hot, he can accidentally set himself off, so despite his claim that he has a great spice tolerance, he is not allowed anywhere near the hot sauce. He doesn’t complain about the ban anymore post-canon, too risky, yeah? 

Bow- She watches so very many makeup tutorials, but being a ghost, can’t practice any of it on herself. That is, unless she possesses someone, like Marsh who would be very easy to put makeup on relative to other objects!!! She’d probably get pretty good at it, after some time, and Marsh would have some lovely new eyeshadow looks every day! 

Knife- He has a longer ghost tail than Dough and Bow do, so I propose him wrapping said tail around people and things he likes!!! Wraps around Pickle when they’re standing next to each other, wraps around Suitcase’s handle when they’re together, etc.!!! He’d get rather flustered if anyone called him out on it. 

Lightbulb- Gives incredible hugs. Incredible. How does an object made of glass and metal give such cuddly, warm hugs? Nobody knows. Sometimes she’ll turn herself on during the hug to make it extra warm!! As long as the person she’s hugging closes their eyes, it really elevates the already sacred experience of a Lightbulb hug. Luckily for everyone else, she is always happy to give one!^^

Marshmallow- She’s still pyrophobic after having been burnt all those years ago. As a very flammable marshmallow, fire would be scary to her anyways, but after having been roasted it’s a whole other story. She’d rather freeze than get close to a fire, but that’s not a problem since there’s a certain fruit always willing to warm her up with a hug <3!!

Nickel- He became very, very, very nervous to give his apology to Suitcase after she blew up Cobs and ate his corpse. He was planning to apologize either way, but clearly Suitcase could absolutely obliterate him if she wanted to do so, which means this apology has to be quite good or else. He has a serious amount of respect for her now. An upgrade, I’d say. 

OJ- His favorite Pokémon is Charizard. It’s orange, it’s very popular, OJ loves it. I know Justin has made a list of the contestant’s favorite Pokemon, but I have not read it in a while so Charizard it is!!!

Paintbrush- Experiments a lot with their image after season 3, mostly by dyeing their bristles with paint!!! Lightbulb helps :3!!! And by helps I mean makes it silly and very fun. Maybe she puts a little dot between Painty’s eyes to give them a “nose”. I think they’d try a solid color first, then maybe a fade, and eventually dye the nonbinary flag into their hair!!! They slay it of course. 

Paper- Pickle once wrote “Property of OJ” on Paper’s back and he didn’t notice for three days. No one told him it was there. When he asked everyone why in the world they would not inform him they said it was because they all thought OJ had written it and he was keeping it because he liked it. OJ did not know why Paper avoided eye contact with him for a week that one time but he did not like it. 

Pepper- Hotel OJ head chef. Yeah you heard me. Let me cook by letting her cook!! Salt wouldn’t like cooking, too much work, so this is something Pepper could enjoy on her own!! And it would be the sole reason that OJ has not yet kicked Salt out of the hotel- if he does than Pepper might be too sad to cook, and with the depressingly low amount of hotel residents that can make food, and the even smaller amount who are willing to make enough food for everyone, they need her. And, if Payjay help out, they can spend more time with her and get to know and enjoy her presence without Salt ruining it!

Pickle- With some help from Tea Kettle and Pepper, he makes Knife a new Dora doll post-finale, since it vanished with the rest of the stuff made by MeLife. He lets Knife possess him if he wants to hug the doll, but it also gets possessed by Knife so he can hug Pickle. Ah shit sorry my Knickle got all over the headcanon dang it. 

Salt- I headcanon her as the only cisgender, straight, alloromantic (I think that’s the right term?) member of the cast. Basically the only one who isn’t queer at all. But uh an actual headcanon for the ~60 or so Salt fans out there, both she and Pepper sleep with those little hair bonnets on to keep their salt and pepper from falling out of their heads in their sleep. 

Taco- This one is fitting for the winter season!! Taco is afraid of snow. Like, straight up terrified. I think she would grab a bunch of blankets and hide in the vents of the mansion whenever it snows, so she can be inside of the inside, as far and safe from the snow as she can be!! Having been homeless for years, she’s had some miserable experiences with hypothermia after it snows, and now that she has a home to live in, she’ll be staying inside until all the snow has melted. 

Mephone- I think he should have a pet bug post-canon. A little beetle or something that just chills on his head and feasts on the many crumbs he gets on himself while he eats. An intelligent one, like Baxter!!! Since we know Mephone will be stepping up into the more ‘big brother’ sort of role for 3GS, I think the bug would be a good outlet for Mephone to talk about his more intense feelings, specifically revolving around Mepad and the contestants. I also think, following his very creative naming of the contestants, the bug would be named Buggy. 

Box- I think she would be an insomniac. After years and years of living in an empty, timeless void-space thing, she’d have a lot of trouble getting to sleep!! She’d definitely need the whole works, warm milk, cheese, lullabies, etc., etc., just to get to sleep, and even then she probably wouldn’t sleep for very long. A lot of nightmares on this one, yeah? 

Cheesy- I think he’d actually quite enjoy eating cheese, as long as it’s not a chunk like he is. He’ll eat nachos, pizza, mozzarella sticks, grilled cheese, etc., etc., but he will not eat cheese cubes. He’d make approximately 5 cannibal jokes every time he does this, and this average goes up to 8 if Pickle is around. 

Cherries- They give Toilet their old Mepad mask post-canon, to try and make him feel better. Toilet might hang out with them a bit more after this- they can do some drawing together!! The more prank-buddies, the merrier, yeah? 

Dough- He eventually did get the recording of Bow saying that he was her brother!! Was it a cut-off version of her denying it yet again (though this time more playfully than anything)? Yes. Does that make him any less happy about having it? No. 

Fan- Out of everyone, he’s the most upset about II ending, and wants to find a new special interest!! He’d try a whole bunch of things, games, music, movies, TV shows, art, and I think it would be funny if he settled on the ii-universe equivalent of Survivor, since it was such a big inspiration for II!! He’d also occupy himself with being very interested in whatever Test Tube is doing and cheering her on!!! Also being a good Dad to Bot!!^^

Microphone- Has, on occasion, accidentally had her volume button pressed in her sleep and woke not only herself but everyone in the vicinity up with her snoring. The first time it happens post-canon it takes her a half-hour to get a very startled and scared but very sleepy and confused Taco to come out from her hiding spot under the bed. 

Soap- Her soap is french vanilla and rose scented!!! She’d find her own scent rather pleasant, yeah? I think being empty for her would have a similar effect on her as it does on objects like OJ and Test Tube, though if she’s in a real pinch she will use her own soap to get clean!! Letting someone use her soap would be a sweet gesture of love/appreciation from her!!!

Suitcase- Balloon would write her a lot of poems once they’re back together post-canon, and she’d keep them all inside of her!! She’d keep a lot of special little gifts from important people inside of her. The stone that Knife set beside her the first time they spoke on the docks, a dried flower bracelet from Box, whatever suits her fancy! (Get it? Ge- ‘cause she’s a suitcase? okay ill leave).

Test Tube- I think she would make phones for everyone post-canon!!!^^ It’s a big island, yeah? And they really need to be able to contact each other in case of emergency, with them being able to truly die now. She could make a functioning rocket out of a vending machine, I fully believe she could make however-many functioning phones out of what she can find on the island. (Or even better, Mepple HQ. I think they all should loot it.)

Tissues- He likes coding :) I personally hate coding, because I sucked at it in school and never want to look at one of those evil “easy kids coding” websites ever again. HOWEVER coding is something he could still do while he’s feeling sick, most of the time!! And we have quite a few gamers living in the hotel, so it would be a great way for him to connect with others!!!

Trophy- He always enjoyed photography as a hobby, but very much threw himself into it after being freed from the elimination closet. After months of seeing nothing but the snotty closet walls, he had a lot more appreciation for scenic and natural photographs. He’d hang a lot of them on the wall of his room to look at as he sleeps, since the rooms don’t have windows. 

Yin-Yang- This one is from my partner @galacticrain!! Because I consider them my resident yin-yang expert^^ Yang isn’t actually gluten free, like he says in season 2 episode 5, he just knew that Yin would confess to the eating of Dough if he put any ounce of pressure on him to tell the truth. 

Mepad- Another cold weather hc! As a Mepple device, he doesn’t really get cold! However, during their first winter together, Toilet worries that Mepad has no winter clothing!!! He buys Mepad one of those super fluffy, pink cases. Mepad does not take it off for months, until his systems start to overheat because of it. 

Toilet- I think he would be rather curious about what having limbs is like. He wouldn’t be particularly upset about his own lack of limbs, just curious!^^ He would ask Mepad about his legs, (try to) ask Mephone about his arms, and maybe make a little doodle of himself with a lot of limbs. A biblically accurate Toilet, if you will.

Blueberry- I like to think his white eyes glow a bit. He functions best in pitch-black darkness, yeah? So imagine you’re walking in the dark and two white eyes are staring at you from the depths. He would love scaring people with it, I think. 

Bot- Hanging out with everyone post-season 3 finale and even more so post-canon, they discover that they really do love videogames, similar to what they told Cabby!! They would absolutely dominate in fighting games, and would main R.O.B. in Super Smash Bros.!!! A fellow robot with a 3 letter name? Sign them UP. 

Cabby- She is endlessly fascinated by how Taco’s arms work. They just…go back in? How? Could she pull them out backwards? Both on the same side? Could she reverse them? Taco does not know either, and the two of them spend a full day together just trying to figure out how they work. Cabby gets a lot of new info about them, and Taco in general, after that :). I’m projecting but I think Cabby would be curious too.^^

Candle- Her meditation training post-canon is what keeps like half the cast from losing their minds after everything that happens. She is very very much needed after… all that. Meditation would help her too, of course, in the way that it usually does, but being so helpful would probably make her feel better than that. 

Clover- She was once blown across the entire island because someone dropped a penny on the ground. It was a particularly shiny penny, though, and the year was one her many, many lucky numbers!!

Goo- My little fella!!! Uh obviously he and Bot would make comics together. They like to draw, he likes to write, it’s perfect!!!! They could help him condense his writing down into a comic format as well!!! They could also make fanart and fanfics together!!! Goo would be a shipper I think he already ships Silver and Painty if you sit that little guy down in front of Steven Universe he will explode. 

Lifering- With everyone losing their immortality post-canon, he quickly becomes one of the most popular among the contestants. Twisted your ankle? Go see Lifering. Migraine? Go see Lifering. Ate the mushrooms that Taco very clearly told you were poisonous? Hurry to Lifering!! He’s happy to be of so much help, but gives some long and rather informative lectures on proper safety checks. 

Silver Spoon- Fills his room with candles. Particularly purple ones. And ones scented with lavender and chamomile. He’ll go on and on about how much he loves candles. Particularly purple ones scented with lavender and chamomile. No one can tell if Candle is trying to politely turn him down or really hasn’t noticed. He progressively gets more and more obvious with his candle collection and nearly sets a building on fire. 

Tea Kettle- #1 Nickloon shipper. I’m serious. Whether they get together or not, she ships it. I don’t think she’d be pushy about it, insistent that they get together if they’re interested in other people, but… we know silly Nickel, always chasing a Balloon. And if he needs a little help catching it, TK will be there in a flash!!!! She’d make them a little romantic picnic complete with hors d’oeuvres! 

The Floor- My guy The Floor still visits Mephone almost daily post-canon. I really don’t see the guy being super upset or holding a grudge over Mephone having made him. He’s pretty cool, if he does say so himself!!^^ And they’re buddies, anyways, so Floory would want to check in on him after his abusive father killed everyone and then was exploded!!!! He might even befriend 3GS while he’s at it :).

[amywritesthings]

happy birthday, levi. / part one.

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) word count: 2.7k summary: It's your first Christmas with the whole Underground gang -- but you didn't realize the date shares significance to someone's birthday.

rated teen // pre-aot, the underground gang are teens, explicit language, baking, eating food, unresolved romantic tension, lots of yearning, fluffy found family vibes for the holiday

note: set in the universe silver underground during flashback two credit: dividers by @/saradika-graphics; thank you to @nube55 for sending me this prompt for the SU anniversary! part of: #leviweek24 / @levievent (day one: birthday)

part two coming soon.

Christmas Eve.

Although you have never celebrated the holidays before, it isn’t as if you’ve never wanted to celebrate them. Mother had no interest in spending her booze money on her adoptive children, and most of the people residing in the Underground don’t have the coin in general for the festivities they partake in on the surface.

Lost in your own thoughts, it takes a few seconds for you to realize you have company: Furlan and Isabel slide up to your scrubbing station at the kitchen sink sporting twin smirks, one on either side.

(You swear they operate on the same unearthly wavelength.)

“Whatever it is you’re planning,” you start with a pointed look to Furlan, “Levi is going to say no.”

“What makes you so sure we’re going to tell him?” chimes Isabel, catching your interest.

When your turn your attention to her, the ginger-haired girl grins proud and wide.

You’re not convinced.

“So you two want to double your chores?”

“Why would he double them?” Furlan snorts, taking a finished plate from your hands to towel-dry it off.

“If I feign innocence to whatever plot you’re hatching, then he’ll give both of you—” You use a clean fork to gesture it between the conspiring friends. “—not only his duties, but mine.”

Isabel deflates a fraction of an inch.

“Damn, she’s right.”

“Still,” Furlan presses on, “you should hear us out, because there’s something you don’t know about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Your brow furrows. “You mean Christmas? I know what Christmas is, Church.”

“No!” Furlan groans, head bent back to the ceiling. “Ugh, c’mon, James. We all know Christmas is tomorrow—”

“—but so is a certain someone’s birthday,” interrupts Isabel.

Wait.

Low and conspiratorial, you voice the point they’ve been hinting at since they double-teamed this conversation at the kitchen sink:

“...Levi’s birthday is on Christmas?”

“A-yup.” Isabel crosses her arms, leaning against the counter. “And he doesn’t ever tell anyone about it, so this is a biggie.”

“Then how’d you know?”

“Because Furlan told me.”

“But we didn’t celebrate it last year,” you argue. “Before we found Isa, I mean.”

(How has it already been a year since you’ve been living with the boys, and six months since Isabel Magnolia joined the crew?)

“Well, technically I only found out this year because Levi kinda mumbled in his sleep once, and I put two and two together,” Furlan quickly explains, palms held up in surrender, “but he never mentioned it any of the other years before when I met ‘em.”

Granted, you barely remember your own birthday sometimes, but the idea of a holiday overshadowing Levi’s birthday feels… sad. 

There is already so little in the Underground to celebrate, but Levi is an exception; always has, always will be for you.

Giving the newly-clean fork to Furlan to towel off, you take a step back to view them both.

“I’m in.”

“Huh?”

“Really?!”

Isabel catches what you’re saying well before Furlan does — unsurprisingly. Although the young girl shares a bond with Furlan, the two of you have your own secret language.

(A found sister you’d always wanted.)

“We have plenty of time to make a small cake before he comes home,” you add, rounding them to begin looking around the shelves to take inventory.

Although ingredients for baking in the Underground are scarce and few, the score from last week’s heist can be your solution to a few deals with some of the surface-dwellers lurking with luxury goods. 

“Fur, mind running to the market? You can use some of my earnings if flour costs extra this year.”

“No need, sis, we got ya,” Isabel chirps as she bounces over to the door, saluting you.

Furlan meets your gaze and nods once, saluting as a joke to match Isabel, before disappearing.

The small apartment is silent once more, leaving you to stir in this newfound information about Levi Ackerman.

There’s so much you still don’t know about the teen, his personal life locked tight with an impossible key. 

If Furlan’s wrong, then it’ll be one hell of an awkward surprise.

If he’s right?

Your attention trails to your shared bedroom with Isabel, mindful of the bag of tea you’d stolen in last week’s heist. There hasn’t been a time or place to tell Levi that you swiped goods from somebody on the surface, risking your own neck for something as precious as leaves.

(But they mattered to him, so you didn’t think twice.)

With a sharp inhale, you place your hands on your hips and nod to yourself.

“A birthday cake,” you say to no one, hyping yourself up for the challenge. “It’s a damn cake, how hard can it possibly be?”

.

.

.

.

.

The answer appears to be incredibly hard.

“You’re not doing it right.”

“What?”

“I said you’re not doing it right, bro!”

“I know how to sift flour, Isabel!”

“Not well, apparently!”

“Children,” you call to your helpers at the old dining room table, “I know they say baking is a science, but I need you to be less critical and more — y’know, efficient, before he gets home.”

“Aye, aye, captain!” Furlan calls, holding out a bowl to you. “Flour, salts, and all the whatever stuff is ready for you.”

You take it off of his hands and add the mixture, trying to eyeball the mix. 

Granted, you’re no baker yourself — you’re barely a cook on your regular days, left only to observe and learn by what Levi’s taught you since moving into his apartment — but you’re trying your damnedest anyway.

Once the rectangular pan is in the oven, you drop the mittens onto the counter and wipe the sweat off of your brow. 

Is it the most amazing cake? 

Probably not.

Should it have taken three people to make? 

Definitely not.

Yet the three of you worked hard to produce it.

“When is he supposed to come home?” Isabel adds, flopping down on the couch with a grunt.

“He said by nightfall,” you tell them both, remembering your brief conversation from this morning’s spar. “So we have some time.”

Furlan hangs his apron (see: Levi’s) against the back of a wooden chair and drops down to the couch beside Isabel, his head lying back. 

“How come he always tells you where he’s going, but not me?”

You don’t have an answer.

Furlan is right: Levi always leaves his plans in the palm of your hands, his whereabouts unknown to the rest of the world, but you aren’t sure why.

In hindsight he should be trusting the person he’s known the longest, and yet—

Just because Levi endorsed you.

The words that Furlan spoke when he first revealed the ODM gear to you, though it was dropped before you could ever get clarification.

Levi wanted you here, after all these years.

He trusted your word, your opinion, your view.

And you still don’t know why.

(You would be a liar if you said you didn’t feel the same magnetic pull, unspoken and unmatched.)

“Watch the cake, will you?” you ask the two as you disappear into the bedroom, closing the door to a crack behind you.

You move to the tiny nightstand by your bedside, rummaging through the bottom drawer to find it: the loose tea leaves hidden away, smelling delightfully fresh. 

Gingerly you hold it in the palm of your hands, wondering—

Will he be angry if he finds out you swiped this?

Would it supersede the fact that you stole them just for him?

(A cake baked by three idiots is already a stretch for someone who doesn’t tell people about their birthday, but will a personal gift cross the line?)

Your hand curls around the bag to gently conceal it in the pocket of your worn jacket, making a decision.

It’s almost Christmas.

You’ll take your chances.

.

.

.

.

.

The second the raven-haired boy steps into the apartment, you can tell he’s on high alert.

Maybe it’s the way Isabel looks as if she’s about to burst at the seams, overtly excited for the surprise hiding behind her back.

Maybe it’s the way Furlan bends at the hip, awkwardly pressing a hand on the chair behind Isabel’s back to complete the human shield hiding your amateur birthday cake on the table.

Regardless, his eyes flicker to them directly to yours, asking wordlessly:

What’s going on?

You shake your head, albeit lightly.

It’s fine.

The furrow in his brow only decreases by a centimeter before his stern gaze returns to the wonder twins all but bursting at the seams with their giggles and snickers.

“What shit did I walk into?” he bluntly asks them.

Furlan takes the lead, playing the much-too-cool cop in this situation.

“Well, ya know — it’s Christmas Eve and all—”

“Obviously,” Levi flatly interrupts.

“—and you have been busting your ass and stuff on this next job of ours—”

“This feels like a very poor proposal,” he interrupts again.

“—and because of—”

Isabel, unable to help herself, bursts out with her arms high over her head:

“Happy birthday, bro!”

Silence.

Pure.

Agonizing.

Silence.

Levi’s eyes find yours once more, brows raised with intrigue. There are multiple questions in his eyes, some you aren’t quite catching, but you know he’s biting his tongue.

Mad, maybe not, but uncomfortable? Yeah.

You tilt your head as if to apologize, unable to provide much solace, only to walk to the table for the big reveal. 

Picking up the little chocolate cake from behind Isabel and Furlan, you carefully hold the tray as you walk across the apartment right to him at the door.

“Technically Furlan told us it was tomorrow,” you start as if you’re trying not to scare a feral cat, “but we wanted to make sure you could celebrate it.”

“And you wouldn’t be out of the house tomorrow,” Furlan chimes in, and you can’t help but roll your eyes when you’re out of his line of sight.

That gets an imperceptible smile to twitch at the corner of Levi’s lips.

“That, too,” you concede.

Holding up the cake with the singular burning candle, your eyes search his for his thoughts, feelings, emotions — if he hates it, if he’s angry at the three of you for conspiring, if —

“I didn’t know Furlan knew my birthday,” is all he responds, staring at the cake.

Even if he’s subtle about it, the flicker of the flame before him illuminates a different story.

He’s… shocked.

Stuck staring at the flame, the dark-haired teen seems to be committing the sight to memory.

So are you.

“You’re supposed to make a wish and blow the candle out,” you murmur, catching his attention. ”I don’t make the rules.”

His stormy eyes glance up at you, taking a pause.

(A moment, it seems, for the two of you.)

“Any?” the sixteen year-old asks under his breath.

You nod.

He nods back, eyes still on you, before reaching for the cake. He pinches the flame between his thumb and index finger, snuffing out the flame instantly.

Your eyes shoot wide. “Levi—”

“Blowing on it is fucking disgusting,” he chimes, before craning his neck so he can look at Furlan and Isabel waiting behind you. “You mouth breathers didn’t get any of your germs on this thing, right?”

Isabel cackles while Furlan makes short, choked noises of indignance.

“Hey, I didn’t get my damn germs on it!”

“Just checking,” he replies casually, but a ghost of a smile passes over his lips. His head tilts quickly to the right, signalling the two of you should join them.

(The tea leaves feel heavy in your jacket pocket.)

Walking the cake back to the table, Isabel jumps at the ready to cut up slices, all too eager to serve the birthday boy and talk his ear off about the many adventures they’d taken as a trio to pull this off. You give her the floor, too busy watching Levi in the moment.

Was this really his first cake?

Granted, you’ve never had a cake yourself, much less a birthday present, but…

The concept of celebrating something — anything — among the four of you hits your in the belly, hard.

You want to celebrate. You want to take the perceived little things and make them grandiose, with the time that’s been gifted to you.

You’re only sixteen, but you know.

Time is precious.

(And so is he.)

Observing the group as they dive into their slices of chocolate cake — thank the heavens they’re not only edible, but delicious — you wait for clean-up duty to begin in order to tap Levi’s billowing white sleeve draped across the empty chair beside him.

The raven-haired boy looks up at you, his full attention solely on you.

“You alright?”

You nod, even if your palms are sweating.

“I noticed you baked the damn thing but didn’t have a slice,” he adds simply. “Allergic to chocolate cake or something?”

“I’ll have some later,” you promise, shifting from one foot to another. “Could we… talk?”

Immediately his brow furrows.

Concern.

You wave it off. “It’s nothing bad. Swear.”

“Is it a second cake?” he tries to joke, deadpan in its delivery, but he stands nonetheless.

You snort, stepping away to walk him to your bedroom for privacy. 

Isabel and Furlan are too busy fighting over who cleans and who dries. 

This is your window.

Levi follows, his forearm resting on the doorframe for a second as he looks you over, trying to understand where this is going. His eyes narrow, contemplating, before walking in after you.

“It isn’t like you to be cagey.”

“Yeah, well, this is something just from me.”

The words cause your body to scorch with embarrassment. Sentiment isn’t in your vocabulary. You’ve known him for over a year now, closer to two years, yet—

This feels strangely intimate.

Especially now that his narrowed gaze smooths and softens, understanding.

Before he can say anything more, you shove your hand into your pocket to fish out the bag and hold it out to him, jaw clenched.

You should say happy birthday, but you can’t.

Hell, you can’t say much of anything as you wait.

Levi drops his chin, pausing, before he nears. “Is that…”

“They’re fresh,” you interrupt in a blurt.

“James.”

Shit.

He sounds upset.

“I know, but I was discreet,” you attempt to explain. “It was in someone’s pocket during the heist and — and I know we don’t steal from anyone beyond the MPs, but this was one of those shitty surface-dwelling assholes that try to market and outprice us.”

His hand freezes over the bag, hovering. Swallowing your fear, you gesture once more with your open palm for him to take the bag.

“I don’t regret it.”

That causes him to flicker his widening eyes from the bag to you.

“Do you know how expensive—”

“I don’t fucking care, Levi,” you exhale, relieved to finally confess it. “It’s almost your birthday. It’s Christmas Eve. I… I think you deserve it more than anyone, surface or underground.”

Silence befalls the room once more.

He seems to struggle with the concept of deserving much of anything — always has — before he gingerly relieves your palm of the bag to bring it towards his chest.

Levi stares down at it with wonder, turning the bag and feeling its weight in his hand. 

To your surprise his head dips, taking a brief sniff of the leaves and basking in the aroma.

“...thank you, James.”

His voice is softer, this time.

A bewildered whisper.

It squeezes your heart and makes it grow twice its size.

In the darkness of your bedroom, you finally find the strength to say the words, loaded with a gratitude you can never repay.

The boy you met so long ago in a flurry of fists; the teen who offered a hand of refuge and a promise to never go back to a life of anguish and pain; the person who’s defined you — this James, in this life — for the better and never for the worse.

You hope a gift in the dark, a cake baked by three, and a wish can convey it all.

“Happy birthday, Levi.”

And many more, with me right by your side.

author's note: i know i've disappeared for the past month, but i wanted to give at least a little present to my readers past and present for sticking by me in 2024. this is a two-part birthday series. the second part (also set on levi's birthday) will be posted at some point after christmas since i'm super busy with family and friends tomorrow.

merry christmas, friends. thank you for your support and kind words. i'm so grateful for the memories we've shared in 2024, and i hope that i can keep posting my pride and joy into 2025. 🤍

[championofthefade]

Warning!! This post may contain spoilers for those who haven't played Veilguard yet! This turned out a lot longer than I thought, but I'm discussing the theory that Rook is a spirit.

I know that there are issues with the writing and any theory is not created to make those issues get swept under the rug. This theory is meant to be fun, and I would like to talk about it.

I'm thinking about the "Rook is a spirit" theory I saw on twitter/x. This theory often rotates in my head often, and I think that it's so interesting.

Like, listen. I understand that narratively it would be complicated to insert into what we know is Dragon Age Veilguard. Someone brought up the fact that it would be a strange thing because wouldn't Emmrich know that Rook is a spirit the way that he knows Lucanis has Spite?

But the theory that cadhalash paints for us is the fact that Varric was for Rook what the Rook is for the companions.

"Help them with their personal problems and talk to them about their feelings, but never ask Rook how they're doing. Or if they need anything. In codex memos we learn the companions have potlucks and book clubs but Rook is not invited. We learn at the end that Varric wasn't really there... What if Rook wasn't either? There's tons of chat about this idea now with other examples of Rook being compared to a spirit in the game. Very interesting and fun!" -cadhalash

There could be the very huge chance that Emmrich would recognize Rook as a spirit, but what about a spirit made flesh?

Think about Cole's banter with Blackwall, for example:

Blackwall: How does a spirit become flesh anyway?

Cole: I don't know. How does a Warden become Grey?

It may seem like a reach, but to me, it makes sense. Cole chose to become human because that was the shape that would help, which he says in a banter with Varric.

Varric: So, Kid, why human?

Cole: It was the shape that would help.

Varric: Huh. Most people don't pick a shape. I guess I was hoping for something deeper with that question.

Cole: It had to be him. But harmless. The him he wanted that wouldn't hurt.

Varric: Well that's... deeper. I think.

You may be thinking, "Hey, Atlas. That might be a little reaching, don't you think?"

Well, yes. Applauding the people that caught onto Solas in the Dragon Age Fandom years and years ago now because you all were on the nose about him being a worm (spirit). But considering what we know from Dragon Age as a whole, it could be possible that Rook is too a spirit of a different kind.

We know that Emmrich can sense Spite. We know that Emmrich can talk directly to Spite. But what if Rook was more like Cole? Would Emmrich's ability to speak to spirits or sense them so close apply?

I would say, that depends on the type of Spirit that Rook would be, right? This has a lot of wiggle room for what you think your Rook would be as a spirit?

From the Wiki:

Spirits lack imagination and creativity; everything they make is based off something made by mortals. Whether benevolent or malevolent, most spirits cannot help but mine a Fade visitor's mind for their thoughts and memories. They then mimic the pieces of life they see by shaping the Fade into various realms that cater to the unconscious desires of the living, providing experiences to the sleeping that become their "dreams."

And the Spirits listed:

Command, Compassion (Cole), Courage, Curiosity (Manfred), Duty, Faith (Wynne), Honor, Hope, Justice(Anders), Learning, Love, Perseverance, Purpose, Valor, Wisdom (Solas).

(We know from Veilguard that Spite is referred to as a spirit of Determination/ mentioned in a data mine, Passion.)

For the sake of the theory, let's say that Emmrich would get an inkling. A prickling feeling even that he knows that there's a spirit near by and would chalk it up to being Manfred because he would know that, right? But then there's Spite. How big of an energy read does Emmrich get from Lucanis to immediately go, 'Yeah, you've got a tag along and I'm sorry it wasn't a willing possession'.

So, how would it get unnoticed by Emmrich, the resident Fade Expert?

Well... Reading further down said wiki page, we find this:

As Rhys puts it in a dialogue with Cole, "being important makes you real". (Asundered reference, I believe?)

Being important makes you real. Rook becomes the 'leader' when Varric gets hurt at the beginning of the game. For the entirety of the game, as Rook, you have to build a team to fight ancient elvhen gods. Rook has to be what Varric was, pulling people that Solas didn't know into trying to save the world from going to shit.

Rook was given a purpose. To save the world.

Regardless of how Rook is perceived, they are in charge. They are in a position that they didn't want, probably was expecting to go home after dealing with this Dread Wolf that they were recruited to stop, and now... They're given a role that would make them important. And as before being important makes you real.

Could Rook be something akin to Cole rather something like Spite or other spirits that we know in Veilguard?

Here's another thing: Solas.

Yes, we are talking about the egg. I'll try to keep this as coherent as possible. We know that Solas didn't want to come from the Fade to be a human (another discussion for another time). We learn that Solas was a spirit of Wisdom, whose Wisdom was twisted into a weapon and forced to do things that stripped Solas of what he wanted to keep for himself. To remain as Wisdom.

This makes it interesting if we add to the fact that Rook could choose to outsmart Solas. Because at that pivotal moment, Solas was Pride. On his pride, it was always the sword he would fall on.

Say what you will about the trick ending, but this is something that shouldn't be glossed over. Being outsmarted by Rook, Solas says, "I am a fool... Who has met his match."

Met his match. This also might be another case of reaching, but it's interesting phrasing from someone who tells clever half-truths and never quite lies. Being tricked by Rook out of pure wits alone. Something that he thought he succeeded in.

What does this have to do with spirits?

Solas, who was brought out of the Fade to take a body to join the elves in a fight against the Titans. Solas, who crafted the lyrium dagger to sunder the Titans from their dreams in hopes of stopping the war. Solas, who created the blight from the Titans' severed dreams. Solas, who started a rebellion against the ancient elvhen gods who abused their power.

Rook, who was brought onto a job to stop the Dread Wolf. Rook, who disrupted the ritual in hopes of stopping Solas. Rook, who started a double blight from freeing these ancient elvhen gods. Rook, who has to build a team to stop these ancient elven gods.

I would say, in spirit, Rook is a mirror of Solas. I'm not saying Rook is wise like Solas or anything like that. But there is something about Rook being Solas' mirror that could fold into Rook being a Spirit of Reflection.

This is just something that comes to mind. Rooks helps Taash discover their identity, helps Emmrich deal with his fear of mortality, helps Neve protect Dock Town, helps Bellara with Cyrian, helps Harding with the Titans, helps Davrin with the griffons, and helps Lucanis with Spite. (Generalized, all choice dependent.) These are reflections of the companions. These are reflections of the people that Rook had brought together to save the world.

It could easily be written off because we're not entirely sure how many spirits there are, but I digress.

Of course, that too would beg the question of how it would apply to all Rooks from all backgrounds?

Let's take a look at the ones that make me think.

Shadow Dragon Rook

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous.

We learn in a dialogue with Tarquin that a Shadow Dragon Rook was found on a battlefield by the Mercar family.

Now with this little bit of dialogue, it makes me (personally) think back to what Solas says about him walking the Fade and seeing ancient battlefields where spirits reenact wars from the other side of the Veil. There could have been spirits that were there during this battle where SD Rook was found. (It also kinda reminds me of Loki being found by Odin and raised in Asgard. Don't come for me, I've only watched the movies.)

For the sake of theory, say that a spirit that would have looked over a SD Rook before they were found by the Mercars. Thinking about it, it reminds me of how Cole (the mage) was watched over by Compassion and then Compassion took a shape that would help.

A spirit (in Spite's case) can be drawn to a person, yes? As Determination, we know that Spite was drawn to Lucanis' determination to live or something of the like. (I will live to spite you, essentially.)

Mourn Watch Rook

Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order.

Relating back to the Muttering Undead that is in a coffin on the path from Emmrich's recruitment:

Stumbling… The steps. Skeletons saw… Oh no choice. Had to be brave… Had to be brave… Too late to cry… Save the (girl, boy, baby) with the grave.

This is a little more open ended. We know nothing about Ingellvar beyond that. We don't know where they came from, only that they were found inside a tomb. It makes me scratch my head.

We know that it's a custom in Nevarra that a spirit could reanimate a skeleton, essentially, and bring some part of their consciousness from back across the Veil. We see that Manfred, when you choose to bring him back, is brought back from across the Veil and returns with magic.

Sure, it's not the same thing as building a body out of Titan's blood, but the idea that the spirits that became the Evanuris are the best of the physical and the Fade offers up to the idea that they were going to have magic anyway when they crossed the Veil. Only lyrium gave them more power than I think that they knew what to do with.

I make this point from the perspective that Mourn Watchers are typically necromancers. They are almost always close to places where the Veil is thin enough for a spirit to come across and possessing a body in a sense.

When it comes to the Muttering Undead, I don't know who that could have been or what they were doing in the Necropolis. But it's clear that they were determined to save Mourn Watch Rook, and they were the one that put Rook in the tomb.

This one makes me scratch my head because it's so broad and vague. For the theory that Rook is a spirit, this is the origin/background/faction that lends itself to the idea because in Nevarra they revere and respect their dead with the ability to raise the corpses to continue contributing to the Grand Necropolis. But we're talking about a wee baby Rook growing up in the Necropolis. Could it be possible that the saving of Rook is more spirit in a tomb?

The last things I would like to touch on.

Dialogue with Harding (her romance I believe?) :

Harding: I've seen spirits leave the Fade and become real people. (COLE!!!)

Rook: You think I could be a spirit in disguise?

Harding: It isn't malicous. They're just drawn to strong emotion. And then...one day, real people.

Rook: I think I'm really me, and I'm really here.

This is why I mentioned Cole earlier.

And the absence of Rook in the Veilguard mural is brought up in the theory as well. Rook's absence on the mural strikes me as odd. Because yes, the companions would be a main focus in the stories that would follow them. But what about Rook, the person who brought these vastly different people together and saved the world? Not there. Were they ever there?

Much to think about.

[heart-eyed-love]

Charms

Summary | Eddie has a small gift for you before you both leave for Christmas break

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to-Lovers, Cursing

Word Count | 1.2k

An | Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates, this is coming out late :( but I hope everyone had a good day!

It was the last day before Christmas break, and you were more than relieved to say the least. You need a 2 week break away from this shit hole. And while you had your friends, you still needed a break from this place.

You were gonna go visit some of your family members during the break, not the plans you had originally hoped for, but in your opinion just about anything was better than this school.

You had slightly brought up to your friends in passing that you were gonna be out of town during break, but it wasn’t something you had necessarily thought they’d care to remember. And it wasn’t something you’d be offended about them forgetting either way, you knew something you tend to fade to the background of settings.

So that afternoon, as you shoved all the books and papers you’d no longer need in your backpack over this break back into your locker, you let yourself sigh in relief as you now held a significantly lighter backpack.

“Hey…” The voice sneaks up behind you, causing you to jump. And when you turn to look at the source and smirking Eddie comes into view.

“Hi?” You answer back, raised brows at the boy in front of you, “What’s up?” You ask, shutting your locker as you do, and he can’t help but take notice of the jangling of your charm bracelet he knows all too well.

“Oh you know, nothing much. Excited to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I mean, who isn’t? It’s school… so I’m pretty sure everyone is eager to get out of here… aren’t you?” You ask back, looking up at the boy in front of you. Even after hanging out with him and the hellfire, you still feel a little awkward around him.

“Oh yeah totally, I’m gonna spend my whole break probably getting high, and doing jack shit, you know, basically the whole point of the break for me, right?” He’s all smirky and it’s so distracting when he gets like this… well when he gets like this with you. You never completely got used to the times where you’re the center of his attention.

“Yeah, right… Sounds nice…” You nod softly as you throw your backpack over your shoulder.

“It will be… if you weren’t going out of town I’d invite you over…” He’s hasn’t necessarily gone shy but he’s not as confident as he normally is and it’s throwing you off a bit. And If what he says is true, and he’d really like to invite you over, you’d take that over this trip to see a few family members who don’t necessarily give too much of a shit about you. But no. Now you have to miss out on the one thing you’ve always wanted.

“That sounds a lot better than having to go hang out with a bunch of family members who don’t even know who I am…” You chuckle slightly to yourself, and he smiles sweetly back at you and you can’t help yourself from feeling distracted from the look on his face.

“Yeah? Well that’s kinda why I came over here…” He pulls his back from his shoulder and unzips it, digging through it for a second, before pulling out a poorly wrapped box. A small bow sitting on top of it. Your brows raise in question, “Uhm… I got you something… you know, for Christmas.” He smiles.

“Oh shit, really? I- I didn’t get you anything….” You feel bad immediately, you had no idea he was gonna get you a gift, if you had you wouldn’t allow yourself to go all out for him like you always truly wanted.

“Oh no! No, don’t worry about it… it’s more like just so you don’t forget about us while you’re gone…”

“Forget about you?”

“Yeah, you know… Hellfire… me.” He smirks. To be quite frank he didn’t give a shit about Hellfire in this stance, forget about them all you want just don’t go forgetting about him.

“I’m only gonna be gone for like 2 weeks, if that.” You say with a teasing laugh, that has the soft smile reappearing on his face, and you don’t notice it, but his face heats up.

“Yeah, well here anyways…” He hands the box with a shrug.

You grab the box from him with a smile, “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Yeah, go for it…”

You pull the nicely tied bow from the top, leaving only the terribly wrapped box, and you couldn’t help but feel a swarm of butterflies. It was cute. He was cute. “Sorry, apparently I’m shit at wrapping.” He chuckled lightly.

“It’s alright.” You smile up at him, before looking back down to ripping the paper off the gift and a small box is now in front of you, Eddie grabs the wrapping paper from your hands for you, shoving it into his backpack.

You open the box and a small charm is revealed to you, it’s a small black bat. It’s beautiful, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a charm. It reminds you more of Eddie than the rest of the boys and you can’t help but like it more for that fact.

Eddie inspects your face as you look at the charm. He saw it at the mall while he was trying to find something for Wayne and for some reason he just needed to get it for. But damn, for some reason this small piece of metal was more expensive than he thought it needed to be.

But whatever it was for you anyways.

“You like it?” He asks, slightly nervous at the lack of words coming from you.

You look up from the charm in the box and see that smidge of fear in his face, “What? Oh my gosh! Yes, of course!” And the smile you love so much graces his face, “I love it, thank you, Eddie.”

“I’m glad you like it… thought it would go nice with all the other ones you have…” He lets his fiddle with the charm bracelet on your wrist, and you blush a tad bit at the feeling of his fingers against it.

“I really do…” You watch as the hallways drain of students and you know your time with him is limited, your bus is gonna leave soon, “My bus is about to leave… but thank you again, Eddie. It means a lot…”

“Yeah, of course… Uh, I mean I could drive you home if you want? Are you leaving today?”

“Oh, uh… No, we’re leaving tomorrow. Like ass crack of dawn.” You roll your eyes.

“Damn, first day of break and you’re still having to walk up early?” He laughs, and you can’t help but smile at the sounds.

“Right? That’s what I said, she just told me to get over it so it looks like I’m waking up early… but uh, yeah… a ride would be really nice…” I nod with a shy smile.

“Sweet, follow me…” He leads you out to his van, one you’ve seen time and time before but only ever rarely been in it. Definitely never just the two of you. He opened the van door for you and everything.

You were definitely gonna come back from break with a gift of your own for him.

[creatingblackcharacters]

my whole family is white. my younger brothers won’t stop calling me “unc.” I’ve been telling them off for a month and they won’t stop. do you have like. What do I even say to them. (they’re in high school and middle school and don’t believe me when I tell them they can’t call me that) do you have a link or know of an article covering “unc” that I can show them?

sorry for this insane ask 💀

I'm tempted to tell you to tell them to call one of their Black male teachers "Unc" and let them find out that way 😅 but it's a toss up as to whether they (or a whole lot of white people) even know anyone Black.

I mean, all you can really tell them is to stop it (especially if it makes you uncomfortable) and just look up a resource on AAVE in general. it's not hard to Google; hell, you could use the 10 min video from my lesson. "If you're gonna talk like that, then surely you have the time to learn about the language". I was that age learning about my Blackness in reference to the world around me, why can't they learn about their whiteness?

But recognize that you can't make them want to know; you can only provide the resource. It's one of those "we enjoy being racist but we don't know/don't care to call it that" situations- it's very common, and doesn't go away as people age, either. It's hard to swallow. So. I appreciate the effort!

[velvetvexations]

I have the forcefem meme blog blocked but someone I follow put a post of her's on my dash and she's just straight up saying "this isn't a kink blog, the way I do forcefem isn't kinky" and I swear my brain stopped working entirely for a second. I don't think there's anything wrong with kinks changing with a subculture or community or becoming memes but like. Come on. Forcefem is a kink, that's what it is. I try not to get too worked up about this blog because it's not good for me and my judgement does get clouded by the dysphoria it triggers but like, it really does genuinely worry me the way the meme-ification of forcefem has completely divorced the kink element from what is still very fucking clearly a kink. This whole "I'm not doing it in a kink way" is not a get out of kink free card, and it's a piss poor excuse for going around and flooding this website with kink stuff that now essentially cannot be avoided in trans spaces. No other kink that has like, a potentially sfw angle has a community that acts like this about it, people who do like bootblacking performances where no explicitly sexual acts take place still make it clear this is a kink thing so people can avoid it if they want, and there are huge arguments in furry communities over if you can even do "sfw" vore because vore is a kink even when no traditional sex acts are being depicted. Every other kink community gets that even when no one is fucking, a kink is still a kink and should be treated as such for the safety of everyone, why should THIS be the exception??

Ugh anyway sorry didn't want this to turn into a rant, I really don't think there's anything wrong with doing a fun sfw kind of forcefem with people who consent but like, as a kinky person who cares a lot about kink and BDSM history and communities the blatant refusal to consider forcefem a kink AT ALL is concerning. You cannot un-kink-ify it, this is a kink goddamn it and when you stop treating it as such you open up a LOT of unsafe grey areas on top of making it borderline impossible for people who are squicked out by it to avoid it because no one is going to tag for something they think is a harmless, gender-affirming, tgirl approved meme.

Idk tho maybe I'm letting my own dysphoria get in the way, feel free to check me if that's the case I will take the L with grace, but I just feel like this "It's not a kink when I do it" thing is...in poor taste, at the very least. I don't think it's intentionally malicious either I just don't like it when we stop recognizing that a kink is a kink.

I advocate tirelessly for being able to live BDSM relationships in public to the extent that "normal" relationships are allowed, but what I do not do is say I should get to snap a collar around a random girl's neck and drag her off because it's just a lifestyle. Like fuck off with "it's not a kink," IT IS, and it is NON-CON.

My biggest fan can't shut up about me supposedly calling trans women groomers because I think it's bad for trans men to say they want to cure trans women's "comphet," but you know what's also sexually coercive? Shoving your non-con fetish at people, many of whom are going to have reasons to be outright triggered by it, and then call it fine because it's so totally non-sexual.

SATIRE BEGIN

Well, okay, fine, start making indiscriminate forcemasc jokes at women. It's not a kink! There's nothing wrong with being a trans man! How could they possibly complain?

SATIRE END

That's a rhetorical question too, the answer is that they'd be massive hypocrites about it and say some dumbass shit like "transmascs just invented forcemasc to gentrify our fet I MEAN NOT A FETISH" or "trans men shouldn't care about being forcefemmed because there's nothing wrong with it but being a man is Bad."

[your-hockey-mom]

Stardew + Quinn! Go!!!! Pleaseeeeeeeee ❤️

You were on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket cocoon and living your best cozy life. Quinn was away at the Canucks morning skate, so it was your time to just be a complete loaf with no fear of judgement. Now, Quinn would never judge you for taking time to yourself or doing whatever it was that you wanted to. There were times where you felt guilty because he was so active and regimented, but he wasn't the type to guilt-trip. Today was your day off and you had decided you weren't going anywhere.

The holidays had drained you. With so much pressure to buy gifts, go to dinner parties, and constantly spread holiday cheer, by this point and time, you were just done. Done with everything. Done with stupid sweaters, done with constant glitter stuck to your skin, and done with saying "happy holidays" to everyone you parted ways with. You weren't trying to be a scrooge, but this year, the season just felt heavy. That's why today was going to be a lazy day.

Leftover sushi you had made the night before sat on a plate on the coffee table alongside a glass of tea. The lights were off, all but the twinkling of the fairy light wrapped Christmas tree in the corner. The Stardew Valley title song was filling the whole apartment with a whimsical feeling as you dug around your blankets for your PS5 controller. It never failed that as soon as you were ready to play, that damn controller was nowhere to be found. Eventually, you'd find it, somehow a foot under the sofa; the bright blue LED panel giving away its location.

You loved this game! Loved the little things like picking crops and making friends. You always married Sebastian, but this time you were holding out, hoping Quinn would want to play and then you could marry his character instead. However, whenever you wanted to play with him, he was either on the road, had a home game, or just never seemed interested. at the time. For his birthday, you had bought him a copy for his Switch, but he had never mentioned starting it, so you weren't sure he even cared. But it was fine, you enjoyed it enough for the both of you.

With your save file loaded, you tried to remember what you were working on the last time you had played. It was Winter, your third year already, and you were bouncing back and forth from the desert and the island. The game moved a lot slower, playing solo, but you felt that just meant you could enjoy it longer before you ran out of stuff to do. For sometime you had a farm with your best friend, and co-op mode made everything fly by! You were always on farm duty: growing crops and tending to the animals; she did the fishing and the mining. It just worked so well with that system. Now, everything was your job to do and it was a lot!

It was easy to lose track of time. The plate of sushi, sitting beside you on the sofa cushion was half gone, but all the ice had melted in your glass. Your phone had gone off a few times; Quinn letting you know he had made it to the practice arena safely and that he loved you. You understood that whenever his skates were on, it was work time not text time. Those check-in messages meant more than one-hundred from anyone else. The fact that he cared enough to let you know he was okay always gave you butterflies.

When the apartment door opened, you paused the game and looked over you shoulder. Was it time for him to be home already?

"Hey, baby," he said, once he walked in, seeing you under about ten pounds of blankets. "I figured you had taken a nap."

You looked at him, slightly confused by this statement. "A nap? Nope, just been farming!"

"I messaged you," he chuckled, taking his backpack from his shoulders. "You must have been too in the zone to notice."

"What? Really? I didn't hear it go off!" Frantically, you begin patting your lap, realizing now that your phone has been the latest victim of the blanket monster. "I'm sorry!"

He just grins, still looking at you from across the room. "It's alright, babe. I was just letting you know I was heading back, was all. It was nothing important."

Quinn throws his coat aside and kicks off his sneakers before he makes his way to you, while you still try to find out where your phone had gone.

"Looking for this?" He asks, seeing it on the coffee table.

"Oh my god... I don't know how I missed your message. I'm sorry, baby!"

Quinn sits down beside you, slips his hand beneath the blankets to find your thigh. "It's okay, really. Seriously, I thought you were just asleep. No need to stress." He gives you a kiss, melting away any upset about missing his text. "How goes farming?"

"Good! I'm just getting everything ready for Spring! I'm ready to plant, so I did some farm remodeling." Your voice conveys nothing short of pure joy. You were so happy that he had asked you about it.

"You're cute." He smirked, his hand squeezing your leg. "Aren't you hot?

"I... I'm comfy!" In truth, yes, you were a little warm but you wouldn't concede that you were too warm. It was December after all and the apartment was always a touch on the cooler side. Quinn ran a lot hotter than you, and it was his apartment after all.

"I can turn the heat up, sweetheart. You don't have to bury yourself under every blanket I own." He gave you a wider smile now, chucking at your ridiculous, adorable nature.

"I'm okay! Really! How was practice?"

Quinn leans back into the sofa, stretching his legs. "Not bad, I feel a little stiff in the back but I'm alright. I think I just slept wrong."

"Aw, that's not good!"

"I'm alright." He pulls himself up to then lay his head in your lap, his back flat to the cushions. "I'll lay here and watch you play. Maybe it will decompress enough before tonight." Quinn looked up at you, his soft eyes looked tired. You couldn't help playing with his hair for a few moments until he closed his eyes. "Play your game, baby. Don't let me hinder you. There are crops to be grown." He laughed.

"Are you sure? I can rub your back if you want?"

"I'll be okay, really, but thank you. I'm not that bad, not yet anyway. Ask me tonight when I get home and I might take you up on it."

"Okiee~"

"I still need to play this with you sometime," Quinn remarks, turning his head to look at your backpack menu, full to the brim with items. "It looks cute."

"You're cute," you reply, not missing a beat and it makes him laugh.

"Smooth," he jokes, his eyes falling closed once more after you finally unpause the game. He sneaks moments of watching you run around from time-to-time before he finally falls asleep altogether.

It was fun to imagine life with Quinn, having a little farm of your own outside the city. Maybe one day you could be so lucky. For now, you'd settle for living that life with him in the game.

[vonlycaonwife]

Wise, Billy, Ben, Anton, and Lycaon w/ shy and oblivious reader hcs

I decided to combine a couple of similar requests together into one because it seemed easier! Plus I thought this combo would be more interesting together then separated!

Warnings: none

Oh boy, if the teasing from Belle wasn't bad enough when he was sure it was just him crushing. Then it's way worse once Fairy enters the picture.

Fairy very much had to spell it out to him that they were crushing hard on him! He just thought they were socially awkward!

Now he has no idea what to do! He was fine! But now seeing the obvious signs makes him all shy and awkward too. Belle and Fairy are having a field day in the back.

Though once he's given himself a big enough pep talk, he doesn't really have any trouble trying to ask them for a date.

…at least he didn't think it would be that hard. But now he's dealing with a whole ‘nother issue! They're oblivious! Belle is cackling at his dilemma!

All I can say is good luck to him, he's gonna need it.

Nicole, Anby, and Nekomata are all screaming internally at these two! 

There's no hope for them, no matter how much they've tried to just outright tell either of then it doesn't work!

“Whaaaaat? Psh! No way! They don't have a crush on me.” Billy for the love of all that is holy THEY BLUSH ALL THE TIME YOU ARE NEAR!

“H-Huh?! M-Me? N-No way!” …my friend Billy has only let you hold his guns, he doesn't even let the other hares do that!

Even Wise and Belle have a hard time getting the both of them to understand their feelings are mutual, and they have a higher success rate!

Okay I can see Ben having a better time than the last two solely because he would be very genuine in his confession that even the most oblivious person wouldn't be able to misinterpret it.

But getting to that point is the hard part, as I can see him first thinking that the reason they're nervous around him is because they're scared of him. 

It would take a lot of convincing from the other Belobog employees to make him think otherwise.

And then the next challenge comes in, trying to find the best time to talk. Honestly this would be the biggest hurdle since he would be very busy working on the company's finances.

But once he has the time, he definitely takes this opportunity to tell them about how he feels!

Yeah…this is basically the same as Billy. The others are screaming at the double obliviousness. 

It doesn't help when Anton is constantly calling them his bro, which makes things worse. 

Belobog's only hope is to just stick these two into a closet and wait until they finally say something, even then there's a chance it just makes things even worse!

Honestly I'm praying for these two, and everyone trying to help them.

This man has a way better chance than everyone, since he wouldn't need to be told that they're crushing on him like the others. He probably already knew.

He knows he's handsome, so it wouldn't be hard to pinpoint exactly why they're so shy around him. If anything Rina would be able to confirm his suspicions easily if he needed a second opinion.

Though for him to go about confessing, that's where his troubles lie. Since while he would be making these romantic gestures, it would catch him off guard when they're misinterpreted as platonic.

Luckily he's usually able to bounce back quite easily, quickly explaining his intentions. King of communication here.

Honestly it would be hard for him not to be successful at confessing since he's very thorough in making sure his feelings are known.

[chimggukchim]

Share our @s so we can be bullied in our inboxes till kingdom come and be ostracized by you lot? No, thank you. I'm a Jikooker too and I've seen it happen to other Jikookers too many times just because their view of Jikook isn't "they are 100% together and practically married and monogamous towards each other for more than 10 years now"

Unfortunately this space has become too cult-like where one just can't have a slightly differing opinion about Jimin and Jungkook's relationship or express how they personally truly observe it without Jikookers losing their minds or accusing them of things, the way you guys are doing right now.

There's literally no difference between this community and the Taekooker community anymore - I've seen that crazy side turn on their own just because they had the audacity to point out the ITS talk made sense to them because for a while prior to that even they felt things weren't the same between Taekook anymore. And now it's Jikookers doing the same to other Jikookers🤦🏻‍♀

People can believe that Jikook is real while still pointing out the things they feel contradict that belief, or they can believe they were together and no longer are but still think they are special to each other, or they can believe they aren't together in what one would consider the "conventional, traditional" sense.

Taekook can never be real. That is a ship that has no real substance and was literally formed on aesthetics and vibes and had a whole false narrative attached to it that became lore over the years. A lot of people say just Jikook's existence alone cancels out Taekook, but I think even if Jimin and Jung kook didn't have the kind of dynamic they have and/or they didn't exist as a duo, Taekook still wouldn't be real. Please there's fuckall there.

I am someone who believes there's something more than platonic between Jimin and Jungkook and that Jungkook is deeply in love with Jimin, but still I agree with everything the last anon's(s') said. They *are* different from how they were before and the last few years make it hard to believe in the kind of image of them that Jikook shippers have painted for years.

We are Jikookers, we are here, we exist. Accusing us of being Taekookers won't make that shit true. We don't have to be a monolith.

First thing's first - YOU may not be a taekooker in disguise, but the other anon most likely was. And most with dumb takes are as they have a knack of using the SAME rhetoric and examples every single time, not to mention, always managing to slip in Tae somehow. Let's get that out of the way.

Now, here's the thing, anon.

I understand completely, the feelings of confusion and second-guessing whether jikook are really together or not. I have been there before, on multiple occasions. There were things in the past as it happened that made me doubt whether my suspicions about the true nature of their relationship was right. I get it.

So don't go putting words into my mouth and think that you can assume 'what kind of jikooker' I am.

Cause like I've said on multiple occasions now, I did not start out in the ARMY fandom space either as a jikooker or as a shipper. I had no clue what shipping was. And til this day, I remain an ARMY supporting all of our boys as a group before any sort of shipping enters my mind. Whenever I watch BTS content, jikook as a couple is never at the forefront of my mind. I watch them as a part of Bangtan.

There are certain moments that jikookers put on a pedestal as concrete 'proof' of a relationship, that I side-eye and hence, make no post or comment on because it does not make sense.

If tomorrow, Jimin and Jungkook were to announce they were both dating other people, I would still be happy for them because before anything, I want them to be happy. If that's with other people, so be it.

So I know me and how I perceive Jimin and Jungkook's relationship. I trust my objectivity of their relationship over yours, thank you.

Now to what you have accused most in this community of...I have honestly yet to see to the extent that you have indicated. Harassing? Bullying? Cult-like? Well, I've got news for you. You're in the wrong side of town, deary. And people who go looking there, clearly want to find what they're looking for. (toxicity, by the way)

And the way you spoke of taekookers and knowing how they behave and treat each other?...Honey, the 'normal' jikooker would NEVER EVER find themselves anywhere near taekooker spaces willingly. But you have apparently. That says a lot.

You're looking for trouble. You're going to find it.

Also...my sympathy for you lessened when you compared jikookers to the cult. Because the last time I checked, jikookers didn't go around literally harassing Tae's and JK's FAMILIES AND FRIENDS in real frigging life. So miss me with that similarity nonsense. Point out all you want about SOME jikookers not being able to handle different takes of others all you want, that's fair. I'm sure there may be the immature ones like that in this community, I'm not denying it. I assure you, they're in the minority. But the minute you go comparing any shipping community's behaviour to THAT CULT...it clearly shows loose objectivity.

So with my sincerest heart, I would advise you to change your space. You're clearly in toxic spaces, jikook and taekook-wise. This is bound to influence how you view not only jikook but more importantly, the jikook community.

There is a reason why I don't answer or comment on toxic asks. It's because it brings negativity to the jikook space. And I don't want that. I have found myself probably treading on that territory these days with this discourse. But I'll work it out to bring back the space to positivity and just focusing on Jimin and Jungkook.

Anyway, the final thing I'm going to bring up is that you all keep speaking about Jungkook and Jimin's relationship changing with no actual evidence. You all simply point out things happening now but fail to actually show a proper comparison to the past to highlight the 'CHANGE'. That's not how that works.

For instance, I can say their relationship changed in that Jungkook became a lot bolder with JImin publicly as opposed to years ago. He actively flirts with Jimin on stage when, for instance, during the Red Bullet Tour (back in 2014-2015), he didn't. Jimin did. See how easy that is? Comparison.

If you have any sound comparisons...with proper context, by all means, share. I'm up to hearing it.

PS. This does not include "they don't see each other as much" because we are not privy to how much they actually saw each other back then nor how much they did in 2022/2023.

Anyway, that's all from me. Peace!

[rockybloo]

Is Nana legitimately uncomfortable with the idea of being a mom or is she just flustered by the idea of it?

Both.

I'll start this long response off by saying that Jack and Nana DO have kids IN AN AU! They have six of them in an AU I refer to as the "Parent AU" where I can toy with the concept and dynamic of the two having offspring.

BUT in the canon of Beanstalked, and basically all the other AUs featuring the two that aren't the Parent AU, Nana doesn't want kids.

The thought results in very mixed feelings for her, with discomfort outweighing her comfort. She loves Jack and if the situation ever occurred where she was pregnant, she'd feel better knowing its his kid because he's a trustworthy and protective fella who'd never let anything happen to her. And the thought of carrying his children does make her flustered and gives her butterflies sometimes...

But she'd very much love to avoid ever having to deal with being knocked up in the first place. The idea of being pregnant, dealing with all the issues that come with pregnancy like the mood swings, cravings, weird body stuff, fluctuating energy, and the ordeal of childbirth itself is just too much for her.

Add in the fact having kids is a never ending responsibility and stressor, especially with the world she and Jack live in where literally ANYTHING can happen, and you got Nana's typically tough and stoic exterior crumble and she becomes more skittish and avoidant of the topic.

Jack doesn't really have kids on the mind either. I say "doesn't really" because he is honestly leaving the idea to Nana to decide. It's her body and her decision ultimately. After all these years, dude is still ecstatic that she decided to date him at all. So having kids isn't an end goal for him, he just wants a happy life with his future wife.

I decided that Jack and Nana don't have kids in their canon timeline because it's a rarity to see a male and female in a romantic relationship that don't want or have children. And I grew up constantly having couples in animate movies and series I watch have kids since it was basically the default. Even if they didn't have kids in the first movie, you could bet your ass that the sequel either had the couple from the first dealing with children or they toss in a last minute twist where the girl reveals she's pregnant.

And around the time I was plotting out the ending of Beanstalked, a lot of the shounen I was into or knew about, were ending with couples having babies (typically as a set up to a spin off focusing on a next gen situation).

As someone who doesn't want kids at all, I think it's important to have a couple who also make it apparent they don't want kids. It's a POV that, AGAIN, isn't that frequent of an occurrence in media featuring a m/f relationship. And Red Beans is a deeply personal OC ship for me, which is why they are like...the only ship out of the main three that don't have kids in their canon. Pluto and Nova craft Comet, and Sweetheart and Bitterbat wind up giving birth to 13 whole little monsters.

Jack and Nana don't have an kids in their canon future because I want their love for each other to be enough for them to be happy together.

[marciaillust]

hey, i hope you're doing great! i feel this may be unorthodox, but i really wanted to reach out to extend my engagement?— awe?— solidarity?— (some variant of those, anyways) with your most recent "workposting" art. i don't normally do this. I've maybe sent 3 asks in my whole life. there's no pressure to respond to this, as i mostly just wanted to cheer you on. also, I'm really sorry this is so long.

i only just recently landed my very first freelance art job, at a start-up company dedicated to making comics + DND inspired art content. I've always felt that "Its nothing to call home about", and so i really resonated with your feelings regarding your work for Brawl Stars. I felt kind of ashamed of my job, that its just a small start up— that I'm not enough and that i should be trying harder, or something like that. Specifically i resonated with your comment of "presenting brawl stars art feels like showing my anime girl oc to an art teacher" and i don't think i could have solidified any better.

Anyways. all's to say. I really found your work quite jaw-dropping. I was shocked when i read it was for Brawl Stars. I didn't know anything about it, but when i did some research i was even more amazed. they're really, really compositionally beautiful... i mean, i know its just "work" to you ultimately, but it really does feel lively, and everything about it makes it feel like you care. I think sometimes you're just able to tell when an artist genuinely cares about their work; about its end outcome. there's so many intricacies. and a lot of attention to detail. you kept the style that was necessary of you but i also can feel the warmth and the care of the artist behind it— its not corporate, or stale, it doesn't come across as "just work".

since you mentioned League, i genuinely do think it serves an equal purpose and weight to what League of Legends would produce. from a biased standpoint, i would actually value your work more. Its not even that its "more obtainable"/"more realistic" but that there's genuinely more feeling to it. Compositionally/artistically, yeah, League makes great stuff, but occasionally, the feeling or the sense of warmth and care from the creator of the art is lost along the way. I value seeing the artist within their own art a lot, which is why I've admitted to a degree of bias. either way. what you put out there is really gorgeous, and crazy impressive.

I know a stranger with a dumb, fandom-oriented art blog cant solve the self-indited art elitism (you and me both, man💀) and that you've already received plenty of love/reblogs saying similar things, but i wanted to extend my feelings anyways. Its really heart-warming, i guess. It brings me hopefulness, and deep adoration for the craft. I'm not very good with words. Anyways. don't undersell yourself. seeing your work meant more to me than you can imagine. I'm obviously nowhere near your skill level, but it meant more to me as an aspiration. i think that regardless of who you work for, your work is really valuable and downright incredible. because you bring that sense of warmth, care, time, and patience regardless of the media it portrays. and you're able to do that while being objectively talented— utilizing great compositions, colour pallets, shading, characterization, mood, etc. That is more valuable. That is much much cooler than working for Riot. imo.

Initially, i also wanted to ask you some questions about how you assembled your portfolio, if you went to school, (if so) what it did/didn't provide for you going into the art field, and just how you landed the job in general. But i respect you and your time, and wouldnt want to be a burden or anything. If you ever have time for it, i would love to ask them, among others, and we can chat in DM if you'd prefer. Absolutely no pressure. Im happy just watching from the sidelines. I dont anticipate anything from you to begin with! I just hope youll know how influential your post was to read & see, to someone like me!

Oh man. I. How. Where do I even start except

This is one of the most uplifting, touching and encouraging messages I received in my life. I read it thrice. And I still can't believe how full of love it is. This is such high praise, I want you to know I will cherish it and carry it with me for a long long time. It's not often that an artist gets to learn how their art is perceived, not to mention in such a positive light. It really means a lot to me.

It makes me so happy to hear that my work illustrations retain a piece of me that is visible to others. I myself can't see it, but I imagine my closeness to the matter at hand heavily impacts my ability to see objectively at all. There was a time where I was worried that work was overriding the me that makes my art mine, that I was becoming a corporate rendering machine and that what I did at work (the shape language and style) was bleeding into my personal art. There is a part of me that is now breathing easier after reading your message. I would love to answer any questions you have, it's the least I can do to repay you! Feel free to send an ask or even an email, I'll try to be as thorough as I can be with my answers. I wish you happy holidays! Take care! And again thank you so much for taking the time to write this message!