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hischiershoe · 2 months ago

Text

─── DOUBLE OR NOTHING

─── QUINN HUGHES X FEM!READER

[ summary ] Falling for a hockey player was risky, but falling for a hockey player your dad coached was an entirely different gamble.

[ word count ] 7.4k

[ content warnings ] brief jealous quinn, drinking is mentioned, some gambling references which author (me) knows moot about it, angst if you really really squint, make out session that alludes to smut but it fades out before it gets too steamy, heavily unedited

[ note ] after rewriting this with three different players over the last eight months, Quinn was the one that truly motivated me to get it done. please note that the events of the gala are probably not factually correct but it’s for the plot okay

The first time you met Quinn, you knew who he was. Of course you did. He was a guy with a pretty impressive reputation for being his team's saving grace more often than not but most importantly, he was a player on the team your father just so happened to be the head coach for. So of course you knew who Quinn Hughes was the second you saw him in a lowly lit bar with a few of his teammates, and he knew who you were from the moment he saw you walk through the door.

Quinn had seen your pictures all around his coach’s office, some from when you were young and some that were more recent. He had heard stories of your accomplishments and childhood in the midst of team dinner or practice rambles, and he had listened to your dad go on about how proud he was of you. It was a secret to none on the team that you were attractive, but the guys were smart enough to know you were off limits, but now that you were only a few feet away from him, Quinn knew that was going to be easier said than done.

At first, he pretended not to notice the way your eyes lingered on him longer than they should, and you pretended like you couldn’t feel his stare when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The two of you played the game of cat and mouse, neither of you quite ready to take the bait and completely follow through with what was being dangled in front of you. Though, when the group you were with combined with his own, you grew hopeful that that was going to change.

When one of the guys you quickly recognized as Brock introduced himself, he also went around and introduced the rest of the guys. You forced yourself to focus on them rather than the defenseman that was standing directly across from you, his eyes unwavering from you as you focused on his teammates. You didn’t dare spare a glance at him until his name was falling from his friends lips, but the second you made eye contact you knew you were undeniably screwed.

“Hi,” You greeted, your voice sweet and smooth as you stuck your hand out for him to take, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” He shyly smiles, the calluses of his palm slightly scratching the softness of your own.

A few observing eyes noticed the way the two of you seemed to disappear in your own world, your hands locked together for far longer than necessary and your entire demeanor mirroring his own. It took the announcement of someone buying a round of shots for the two of you to break apart and join the rest of the group, but neither of you strayed too far from the other for the rest of the night.

While you didn’t go home with Quinn that night, you did manage to get his number from him before you went your separate ways. It took a little convincing on your part after he initially rebuffed your question with the simple excuse that he couldn’t because he played for your dad, but you were coy in your second attempt. Reminding him that exchanging phone numbers wasn’t a marriage proposal, that it was just you looking for more friends in a city that was brand new to you, and not long after, you couldn’t hide the smug smirk on your face as he typed his number in your phone.

The two of you started off casually texting, you asking him about his hobbies outside of hockey and him asking about how you were liking Vancouver so far. Your conversations flowed naturally and with ease, the two of you becoming closer than you thought you would in such a short amount of time. However, the two of you didn’t see another until his phone rang one random Friday night between home games. You’d had a bad date that left you stranded at a restaurant in a part of the city you were not yet familiar with and you had no ride home. Getting an uber by yourself was out of the question, and you found yourself clicking on Quinn’s number before anyone else's.

“Hello,” His voice was deep and wary, undoubtedly confused at your unprompted phone call.

“Hey,” You breathed out, “Are you busy?”

“No,” He shook his head, though you can’t see him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes– Well, no, but it’s just– Do you think you can come pick me up,” You asked, your voice meek and hesitant as your eyes darted around the bustling street life around you.

“Of course,” His response was instant, almost embarrassingly so, “Send me your location and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The restaurant you had been left at was only a fifteen minute drive from him, but he made it in ten. He didn’t ask any questions as he held the passenger door open for you, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes dragged across the people walking by almost as if he was searching for something. Or someone. When he was back in the driver's seat, he silently handed you his phone with the music app open so you could play whatever you wanted as he started driving. However, not even the soft, familiar tune playing through the speakers was enough to ease the awkward tension filling the car.

“So,” You started, hands clasped in your lap as you gazed at him, “What have you been up to tonight?”

He briefly glances at you, a nervous chuckle passing through his lips before he says, “Nothing too exciting. Was just at home relaxing before the game tomorrow. What about you?”

You were quick to gather that you weren’t as outgoing and confident around him when you didn’t have a few drinks in your system, or when you were face to face as opposed to texting. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your fingers wringing together as you tried to keep yourself calm and outwardly collected. It also didn’t help that you picked up on the few wandering eyes of bystanders, their whispers making a ball of anxiety form in your chest at the thought of word somehow getting back to your dad. Though, you tried to push those fears away as you focused on the current moment.

“Well, I was on a date,” You snorted, pressing the side of your head into the headrest as you look between him and the road, “He left after getting some phone call, and left me there without a way home since he insisted on picking me up. Never doing that again.”

“He just left you there,” Quinn slowly asks, and his anger is evident in the way he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and his jaw is clenched so tightly it looked almost painful. His sudden change in demeanor confused you, made you wonder what you had said that caused such a shift to the usually calm guy next to you.

“Yeah,” You draw out, furrowing your eyebrows together, “But it’s okay, it’s probably the best thing that could’ve happened. I didn’t want to get back in his car.”

“Why even go on a date with someone who makes you feel like that,” He slightly scoffs, but you know he doesn’t truly blame you. At least, you hope he doesn’t.

“He wasn’t that bad over text,” You shamefully shrug, moving your gaze to the dashboard in front of you as you let out a shaky breath, “Plus, he was attractive enough for me to want to go home with him.”

Quinn’s breath hitches in his throat, a wave of jealousy washing over him like a bucket of scalding water, but he brushes it off as he adjusts in his seat and keeps his focus on the road. You can feel the slight shift in the air, but the feeling that lingers is unrecognizable. It’s tension, that much you can tell, but you can’t quite figure out what kind of tension it was. It unsettled you, the unfamiliarity, but you decided to force it down your throat and let the ride home pass in silence.

When Quinn was nearing your apartment complex, you hadn’t expected him to park in one of the guest parking spots and slip out of the car. You pushed the car door open, stepping onto the concrete as he stands near the back of his car with his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants. He can see the curiosity swirling in your eyes as you near him, your bag tightly grasped in your hand as you stop and raise your eyebrows as you peer at him.

“I’m just walking you up to your apartment,” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement, “I was raised with manners, you know.”

“Thought that was typically done after a date,” You tease as you brush past him, trying to shake off the last bout of tension that remained stuck to you.

“Technically, this is,” He smugly points out as he follows closely behind you.

“I guess so,” You hum, throwing him a playful look over your shoulder as you continue, “But I’m not sleeping with you.”

That night, your relationship with Quinn began to shift into something you knew it shouldn’t. You found yourself texting him far more often about anything you could, thinking about him any time you got a free moment to yourself, spending as much time the two of you could spare together. The two of you were teetering over the edge into territory that could be dangerous for both of you, but neither of you were doing anything to stop it.

Quinn knew that what he was doing was a gamble for trouble, his teammates constantly reminding him of that when your name would fall from his lips or pop up on his phone. Truthfully, Quinn had never been much of a risk taker before, always choosing the safe route or weighing all of his options in his head before following through, and he knew developing feelings for you was the biggest risk of all, but he didn't care when it came to you. While he wasn’t exactly sure where the two of you would end up, he was sure that he was willing to face anything that got in his way. To him, you were worth it all.

When your mom called and told you that you had to be at the annual Dice and Ice charity event the team was holding on Sunday, you had to bite your tongue to keep your eagerness at bay when you agreed. It had been nearly a week since you had last seen Quinn, courtesy of his hectic schedule and your busy life, and you weren’t going to pass up the opportunity to see him again. Although the setting of your reunion wasn’t exactly ideal, you had high hopes that everyone would be far too busy to analyze any potential interactions you had with him.

The hallways to the venue were freezing, and the lower than normal temperature outside didn’t help in the slightest. While your brothers didn’t seem to mind with their pants and light jackets, you were bundled up in the warmest jacket you owned with a pair of fleece-lined leggings under the dress your mom asked you to wear. Living on the lower east coast for the last few years left you newly unaccustomed to the cold atmosphere you grew up around, and your brothers were not letting you forget about it.

“You would never know she grew up in hockey rinks,” Mason snorts, lightly slapping Trevor on the shoulder.

“She’s just a beach girl now,” Liam teases, “Can’t handle the cold.”

“Duke doesn’t have beaches dumbass,” You roll your eyes, “It’s below freezing outside, anyways. I don’t want to hear you guys bitching about being cold later.”

The four of you get into a playful bout of bickering, your voices growing louder as you try and talk over one another. All of you were far too engrossed in your petty argument that none of your ears picked up on the nearing footsteps until the two guys were standing right in front of you. You all come to an abrupt halt, Liam and Mason snapping their mouths shut as they gape at your new guests.

“Hey guys,” Kiefer greets over the large box in his grasp, his eyes flitting towards you for a brief second.

“What’s up,” Trevor responds, puffing his chest out to make him appear taller.

You roll your eyes at his lame attempt at seeming cool before you ask, ”What are you guys doing?”

“We were sent on a mission,” Elias’ deep voice rumbles, “Or maybe we’re hiding. Who knows? ”

“Right,” You drawl, slightly narrowing your eyes at the taller of the two in confusion, “Well, you guys have fun with that. We’re gonna go.”

You step around the two of them, your brothers following you without protest, but all three of them hear Elias’ not so quiet ‘Should we tell him she’s here?’. They all toss suspicious, curious looks your way, but you lamely shrug your shoulders in mock confusion as you scurry ahead of them. You knew your brothers were far nosier than you were and when they felt out of the loop, they would do anything to figure out what was being kept from them. All you could do was hope that luck was on your side tonight, and that they wouldn’t uncover the one thing you wanted to keep secret.

Quinn found you the second you stepped on the floor with three boys in your wake, and he couldn’t help but gawk at how beautiful you looked. The dress you were wearing was hugging you in all the right places, your hair done in a way that framed your face just right, and he could see the shine in your eyes, even from where he was standing. He could feel the knowing stares from his teammates as he let their conversation fade away, but he wasn’t in any hurry to look away. He was completely and utterly entranced with you.

It didn’t take you long to find Quinn, either. He was tucked in a corner with Conor and Brock, mingling with a few fans near the drink bar with amused smiles on their faces. You could feel your brothers watchful eyes on you, so you were quick to avert your eyes and sneak passing glances whenever you could. Each time their focus shifted to something more worthy, you were instantly letting your eyes fall on Quinn, and you found that he was already looking at you almost every single time.

During the entirety of Quinn’s speech, your eyes never strayed away from him. You hung on to his every word, listening so intently that every other sound around you was temporarily muted. You didn’t pay attention to anything else except for him until you felt a small pinch to your arm, forcing your harsh gaze to your brother as he jerked his head towards your parents. They were rising to their feet as they clapped, so you followed suit and ignored the skeptical look on Trevor’s face.

At first, you weren’t entirely sure where your dad was looking off to, but when Quinn came into view, a pit of nerves formed in your stomach. He had a wide smile on his face, greeting people as he walked by them and ran his non-injured hand through his hair, and the simple act alone made your mind go hazy with thoughts of him. Though, admittedly the closer he got to you, the more sense the empty seat directly to your left made, and you felt like you were going to pass out on the spot.

”Nice speech, Huggy,” Your dad calls out, pulling Quinn into a friendly hug, “It’ll have donations rolling in.”

”Let’s hope so,” Quinn lightly laughs.

As he walks around the table, he stops to politely greet your mom and brothers before he finally gets to you. The shift in his gaze was so subtle that you almost missed it, almost missed the way his eyes sparkled with a glint of comfortable familiarity. Almost as if seeing you, simply being near you, was enough to relax him despite the hectic chaos around him.

“Hi,” He bites back the smile toying at his lips, holding out his hand for you to take, “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Quinn.”

“Hi, Quinn,” You stifle the amused tone threatening to burst to the surface as you tell him your name, “Nice to finally meet you, too.”

You’d been in Vancouver all season, but you had yet to make an appearance at any games or any other team events that would’ve allowed you to ‘meet’ Quinn. Pretending to not know each other was the safe route to go, the easiest way to keep your family unaware of what you had been doing in your free time. You still weren’t entirely sure how your dad would react if he found out you’d been hanging out, and crushing on, one of his players, and you weren’t looking to find out, either. Especially not tonight.

“Two years I’ve been coaching this team,” Your dad calls out as he takes his seat, “And this is the first time my daughter’s meeting everyone.”

“Dad,” You exclaim in annoyance, narrowing your eyes at him as you sit down.

“Sorry, sorry,” He throws his hands up in surrender, “I know you were busy with work and school. I’m just messing around.”

“What were you studying,” Quinn smoothly redirects, fixating his gaze on your face, making your brief bout of frustration disappear like it was never there.

The conversation flows after that, a mixture of hockey and various other topics being thrown around the table. Anytime you and Quinn would disappear into your own world, you could feel Trevor’s suspicious gaze on the side of your face and it served as a careful reminder that you were surrounded by your family and not in the confined walls of his apartment You’d forcefully pull yourself away from him and engage with the others, hoping no one else picked up on it the same way he did. However, judging by the several looks your mom threw your way, she could tell something was up.

By the time the speech portion of the event was over, everyone scrambled off in different directions to participate in whatever caught their eye. Liam and Mason followed your dad to go and talk to some of the bigger sponsors, and Trevor disappeared before you could catch wind of where he was going. A few of Quinn’s teammates hastily pulled him away, but not before he tossed an apologetic look your way. A look that did not go unnoticed.

“I see you and Quinn get along well,” Your mom’s voice startled you, tearing yours way from Quinn’s retreating figure.

“Yeah,” You nervously chuckle, avoiding her stare as you grasp at the fabric of your dress, “He’s nice.”

She lets out a melodic hum, a sound you knew she reserved for when she knew her children were hiding something.

“He is a nice boy,” She affirmed, kissing her teeth before she moves in front of you, “Honey, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,” You mumble as you finally meet her soft eyes, “But there’s nothing to tell. It was just nice to talk to someone my own age that isn’t from work.”

You could tell that she didn’t fully believe you, but she didn’t press any further. Instead, she pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before she was slipping into the crowd on her own. You stood in your spot, eyes darting through the sea of people in search of no spa in particular. You recognized a few of the girls that had been at the bar the night you met Quinn, but you didn’t feel privy enough to approach them. Finally, you managed to catch a glimpse of your brother standing at one of the roulette tables, and you made your way towards him.

When you reached his side, the dealer called out to you and asked if you were participating, earning a shake of your head as you stood behind Trevor. You weren’t all that great at playing any sort of betting game, but you knew the relative rules and basics and that made it easy to keep up with what was going on. Your brother seemed to be doing fairly well, and, from what you remember, he had a pretty good chance at winning.

“Your boyfriend’s coming over here,” Trevor mumbled, his gaze flicking beside him before the table in front of him reclaimed his focus.

“What,” Your face screwed up in confusion, “Who?”

Your head turned, and your eyes immediately settled on Quinn as he walked towards the table you were standing at. He was passing polite smiles and hello’s to everyone he passed, but he made no efforts to stop and converse further. The way your heart rate increased so quickly at the mere sight of him was almost worrisome, though it was a feeling you’d grown accustomed to by now. No matter how many times you saw him, or what you were doing, he made your heart race.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You whisper under your breath, subtly kicking the leg of Trevor’s chair.

“Tell that to your face,” He smugly states without glancing in your direction.

Before you can say anything else, the sound of Quinn’s voice calling your name echoes in your ears. You take a deep, ragged breath, shifting your gaze to Quinn as he comes to a stop right beside you. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets now, a slight pink tinge to his cheeks as he flickers his eyes between you and your brother.

“You not playin’,” He asks, clearing his throat before he settles on watching the table.

“Absolutely not,” You snort, shifting on your feet, “I’ll leave Trevor to betting all Dad’s money”

“At least it’s for a good cause,” He jokes as he gently knocks his elbow against your own, “How much is the pot?”

“Not sure what it is now,” You hum, letting your eyes trail to Quinn’s face, “I heard someone say something about double or nothing, though.”

“Oh he’s a risk taker, I see,” Quinn chuckles as his eyes dart across your face, “Must run in the family.”

“What’s a reward without a little risk,” You flirt, ignoring the blood pounding in your ears and the knots twisting in your stomach.

The sound of Trevor clearing his throat rips through the veil of tension that surrounds the two of you, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Quinn and straighten your back. You met the careful, warning filled stare he was throwing over his shoulder before he turned his focus back to the game in front of him, and you felt your entire face heat up in embarrassment like you’d been caught sneaking a boy into your room. You force yourself to keep your focus on what was going on in front of you, rather than the dark haired man who has been residing in your dreams for the last few months. Though, Quinn wasn’t making that easy on you with every fleeting touch to the arm or question he threw your way.

“Hey,” He quietly calls out to you, eyes soft and hopeful, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Your gaze flickers back to your brother who was now honed in on the game before curtly nodding at Quinn. You follow closely behind him, ignoring the needles of anxiety that were poking your skin at the idea of someone somehow twisting what they saw and it getting back to your dad. In reality, you knew most people would assume that Quinn was likely helping you, guiding you in the unfamiliar building, but you knew how nosy people could be sometimes. They loved a good headline for their gossip sessions, and the last thing you wanted was your name on the front page. Fortunately for you, the two of you came to a quick stop as you joined a group of his teammates and their partners.

Brock was the first to notice you, cheerfully greeting you before he pulls you into a friendly hug, which was shortly followed by one from his girlfriend. The others were simple with their hello’s, sticking to small waves and verbal greetings, and you happily returned them all.

“Bella,” Quinn mumbled under his breath, slightly jerking his head towards you.

“Oh, right,” Her face lights up with recognition, “I asked Quinn to bring you over here because I,” Her gaze briefly flickers towards Quinn, “Wanted to know if you’d be interested in going out with us afterwards? We’re just going to go to a bar for some drinks. Probably the one we met you at, actually!”

“I’d love to,” You rush out embarrassingly fast, your face slightly heating up before you collect yourself, “I’ll have to tell my family though. I rode here with my parents and brothers.”

You felt like a child as you told them that you had to practically ask for permission, but, judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, they already knew that. None of them were giving you any sort of weird looks, or looks of judges. In fact, they had all let their eyes fall on Quinn as he stood behind you with his hands shoved in his pockets and a bashful look on his face. It was then that the cliche lightbulb went off in your head.

He knew that you would need a good enough cover story to leave without your family. It was something you’d mentioned over text the day before, and he was giving you just that.

“That’s okay,” Bella continues, “We won’t be leaving until the events well over so there’s plenty of time. We just wanted to give you a heads up.”

After that, you fell into a casual conversation with the group of them, even after Quinn and the guys had to wander off for teamly duties. The girls were nice, asking you about work and how you had been liking Vancouver so far, and they answered any questions you asked them without complaint. You stayed with them for a while, letting yourself enjoy their company before Bella reminded you that you still had to clue your family in on your plans for the night and time was about to run out.

You slipped back into the dwindling crowd, stepping around chair and circles of people as you searched for your Mom or Dad. It didn’t take you long to find them near the stage, both of them engaged in what seemed like a pleasant conversation with an older couple you vaguely remember meeting earlier in the evening. Once you finally reached them, you stood off to the side and patiently waited until they were finished up, and you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at how childish it all felt.

“Hi honey,” Your mom was the first to call out to you, her arm looped with your dads as she tugs him to face you, “Everything okay? We’re about to head out soon.”

“I was actually coming to tell you guys that I’m going to go home with Bella, Brock’s girlfriend,” You nervously admitted, picking up on the subtle flash of suspicion on your moms face, “They invited me out for drinks.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Your dad sighs as he anxiously glances at your mom, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Who knows who’ll be there and—”

“I know Dad, but you know I don’t have many friends here. I swear I’ll keep my ‘coaches daughter’ appearance up the whole time.”

A brief pause hangs in the air, and you know your mom can see right through the charade you were playing, but she keeps it to herself. In fact, she quietly encourages your dad to agree and let you have the night with friends.

“Okay, okay,” He finally shakes his head, small smile tugging at his lips, “I trust you. Have fun, okay? And be safe. Call me if you need a ride no matter what time it is. I’ll keep my ringer on.”

“I will,” You practically squeal, lunging forward to pull them both into a hug, “I promise! I love you guys!”

You reconnected with the girls as they hovered near the bar that held everyone’s jackets and purses, telling them that everything was good on your end. They all let out excited cheers before diving into what was the overly complicated driving situation. You could barely follow along, but what you were able to gather was several people carpooled and now there weren’t enough seats, which didn’t make any sense to you.

“Wait,” You politely interrupt, “You said Elias and Conor rode here with Quinn, so why can’t they do that now?”

“Captain’s orders,” Bella drops her left eye into a wink, making your entire face warm and your chest warm.

You don’t have much time to think about her insinuation before the guys are crowding around you all over again. The already loud conversation seemingly increased times ten as everyone tried to talk over one another, but eventually they were able to come to enough of an agreement for everyone to finally filter out to the parking garage. You noticed that Brock and Bella made sure to stay close to Quinn, which in turn, meant you could stay close to him without worrying about your parents wandering eyes.

“You ridin’ with me,” Quinn asks as you step into the brisk Canadian air.

“I think that is the plan,” You confirm, glancing at him with a teasing glint shining in your eyes, “Apparently it’s just us, though. Something about ‘captain's orders’ I heard.”

“Oh, did you,” He raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile toying at his lips, “Guess we have to follow them, don’t we?”

You follow Quinn to his car, settling into the familiar leather seat as he adjusts the temperature and hands you his phone so you can pick the music. You're scrolling through Apple Music when he starts backing out, but it doesn’t take you long to queue up a bunch of songs you know you’ll both like. After so many car rides and impromptu karaoke sessions, you’d grown used to his music taste. You put his phone in the cup holder, softly singing along to the song as you fall into the comfortable silence that fills the car.

“You okay if we swing by my apartment first,” Quinn asks after a few minutes, glancing away from the road to look at you for a second, “I want to change before we head there and I think I still have some of your clothes at my house from when your washer broke.”

“Oh, that’d be great actually. I need to get out of this dress,” You dramatically groan, pushing your head into the headrest, “It’s a little uncomfortable, but my mom insisted that I wear it. She said it was ‘sophisticated’ or whatever.”

“Well, you look good,” Quinn rushes out, clearing his throat as he puts extra effort into looking at the road in front of him.

Your gaze flickers over to him, fixating on his face and taking quick notice to his cheeks that were tinged pink, but you can’t tell if it’s from how warm his car was or the comment that still hung in the air.

“Thank you, Quinn,” You sheepishly smile, letting your eyes fall to his hands as one grips the steering wheel and the other rests on his thigh, “You look good, too.”

It doesn’t take long for Quinn to get to his apartment, pulling into his usual parking spot before he’s quickly jumping out of his seat and speed walking around his car. You knew what he was doing, and you always pretended to be busy gathering your stuff until he was there to open the door. A fact you’re certain he knew, but neither of you ever brought it up to one another. If you mentioned it, it would only lead to a conversation that neither you nor him were quite ready to have with each other.

“My place is a little messy,” He bashfully admits as he sticks his key into the door, “Haven’t had much time to clean lately.”

You wave him off with a small shake of the head, stepping around him when he pushes the door open to let you inside. Your eyes graze over his apartment, your brows arching as you take in what his idea of messy was. He had a few stray hoodies thrown about, some dishes lingering on the kitchen counter, and maybe two take out containers on his dining table. He’d hate to see the state your apartment was currently in if he thought this was bad.

“Your clothes are in the guest room, so you can change in there and then we’ll head out,” He clears his throat, tossing his keys on the small table before he turns to you.

You were shrugging your coat off, carefully laying it over the back of his kitchen stool since he had yet to get an actual rack to hang anything on. He couldn’t stop himself from letting his eyes drag the length of your body as if he hadn’t spent the entire evening doing that already. His fingers twitched at his side, the urge to commit the feeling of you to memory growing the longer he let himself stare.

“Sounds good,” You hum, pivoting on you heels to catch Quinn already looking at you. Even though he was quick to look away, it was too late. He’d been made.

Quinn mumbles something incoherent before he darts down the hallway to his room, leaving you almost as flustered as he was in the middle of his living room. You’d spent time alone with him before, several times, but you’d never caught him blatantly checking you out before, and it made your stomach twist itself into undoble knots. It took you a few moments to gather yourself enough and will your feet to move down the hall and into the guest room.

With the door shut behind you, you scan the room until you find that the clothes you had left were neatly folded on the small dresser across from the bed. You hadn’t realized that you left so much at Quinn’s, but you were grateful for that now, wanting to shed yourself of the dress that was digging into your skin the longer you wore it. As you picked through a few of the shirts, you froze when your fingers brush against the fabric of a hoodie you knew didn’t belong to you.

You recognized the logo on it immediately, having seen it during the many times you had stolen the hoodie it decorated when you’d conveniently forgotten to bring your own every time the two of you hung out. You’re not sure how it got mixed up with your laundry, but if Quinn had taken the time to fold all of your things, he had to have left it in there on purpose. He had to have knowingly left his hoodie, a hoodie he told you a hundred times he loved, in a pile of your clothes, but why?

Deciding not to spend too much time dwelling on a piece of clothing, you let it fall on the dresser and stepped out of your heels. You glanced between your shoes and the pants you had left here, suddenly regretting your choice to forego the flats you were contemplating with earlier, but you accepted the fact you were going to have to make it work. After all, it was either that or stick with the dress, and that was the last thing you were going to do.

You had shed the fleece leggings, tossing them on the floor somewhere before you were grasping at the zipper of your dress trying to free yourself from it, but it seemed to be stuck. No matter how hard you tugged or what position you stood in, it just wasn’t budging. You tried pulling the sleeves over your shoulders to pull it down, but the fabric wasn’t flexible enough and kept you trapped in its stupid confinement. Letting out a defeated groan, you stared at the door knowing that your only hope at freedom was right down the hall.

“Hey, Quinn,” You called out, sticking your head through the break in the door, “Can you come help me really quick?”

“Uh, yeah,” You hear him shout in response, “Be there in a sec.”

You leave the door cracked open enough that he would know to come right in and awkwardly stood near the end of the bed with your hands clasped in front of you as you rocked on your feet. There was a small bout of nervousness forming in your chest at the idea that Quinn was quite literally about to help you undress, but you tried to snuff it out by reminding yourself that it was just a friendly thing. A friend helping out another friend. Just two friends who are friendly.

“What’s up,” He says as soon as he steps through the doorway, his eyes darting up to your hair that you’d messed up during your zipper induced frustration, “Everything okay?”

The second you saw Quinn, you felt everything around you come to a screeching halt. He had gotten rid of his suit jacket, but he was still wearing the white button up that was underneath. Only now, the first few buttons were undone and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and it made you completely lose the ability to function properly until you heard him call out your name again.

“Sorry,” You sheepishly murmur as you shake your head, “Sorry. I just, uh, I need some help with the zipper on my dress. I think it’s stuck and I can’t get it.”

“Oh,” Quinn breathes out, visibly swallowing before he nods, “Yeah, okay. I can do that. No problem. Easy money.”

He mumbles a few more things under his breath as he walks towards you, but they were too low for you to understand. You nervously turn around so that your back was towards him, your heart pounding in your chest and your ears ringing as you waited with baited breath. You can hear the unevenness of Quinn’s breathing behind you, the sound telling you that he was just as nervous about this as you were. Though you didn’t let yourself believe it was for the same reasons, no matter how badly you wanted it to be.

“I’m gonna—,” Quinn stutters, his fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of your upper back, “I’m going to try and do it now.”

All you managed in response was a small, curt nod, not trusting yourself to speak when he was so close to you. You can feel the pressure from his hand, but you can tell that he’s being careful to not actually touch you. To not let his fingers brush against your soft skin the way that you desperately wanted him to. Your body reacted before your mind could, your feet shuffling back so you were closer to him and he had less room to pull away, but he didn’t move.

He stayed in the same spot, this time letting his knuckles graze your spine as he effortlessly tugged the zipper down until it came to a stop just above the curve of your ass. A trail of goosebumps chased his fingers, leaving the skin behind them on fire and your body shuddering when he slowly pulls away. Every nerve in your body was burning with months worth of desire to feel more, to feel him on every inch of your body in ways that a friend shouldn’t. It was making your sense of reasoning cloudy, but maybe that was exactly what you needed.

“Quinn,” You whisper, your eyes fluttering closed as you hesitantly turn to face him, “Can I ask you something?”

When you find the courage to meet his gaze, it felt like time was beginning to crawl, teasing and testing you to the point of breaking. It felt like the world was putting everything on pause for you until you decided what you wanted. To decide if you were willing to risk what felt like everything on the off chance that the guy in front of you was willing to do the same.

“You can ask me anything,” He softly affirms, looking at you with a gaze so intense it makes your knees grow weak.

“What would you say if I told you I wanted you to kiss me,” You shakily mutter as you feel the gap between the two of you closing. You’re not entirely sure who was initiating it, maybe it was both of you, but it didn’t matter.

“I’d say that we shouldn’t,” He declares, his eyes dropping to your lips, “That your dad is my coach and I don’t know if we should take a risk that big.”

His face was barely two inches away from you now, and you can feel his breath fanning your face as anticipation builds in the lower part of your stomach. You barely register the way he was cradling your jaw in your palm until his thumb was brushing over your lips, sending a shiver down your spine and one of your sleeves slipping off your shoulder.

“Do you want to know what I would say to that,” You subtly challenge, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’d say that sometimes the risk is worth the reward.”

The words had barely gotten out of your mouth before Quinn was slamming his lips on yours in a kiss so blinding that you had to grab a hold of his shoulder to keep yourself steady. His mouth was moving against yours so desperately, so fervent and yearning for more as his hand slid to cup the back of your head and he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Heat coursed throughout your entire body as you clung to Quinn, as you use his body to keep yourself from toppling over from how hard he was kissing you.

His other hand finds purchase on your hip as he carefully guides your body backwards until you can feel the mattress on the backs of your thighs. You let your body fall against it, Quinn following closely behind until he’s hovering over you and your hands are tangled in his hair. You’re tugging at the roots, coy smirk tugging at your lips when he groans against your mouth, and one of your legs is hooked behind him to pull him even closer to you.

You can feel his bulge pressed on the inner part of your thigh as he grinds against you, applying pressure to the one spot you needed him the most. A soft moan slips through your lips with each passing movement he makes, and Quinn nearly comes undone from the sound alone. The idea of still trying to meet up with his friends had already been fleeting the second he walked into the room, but now it wasn’t even an afterthought. All he could think about was you. The way you looked, the way you felt, the way you sounded. Quinn was willing to give up anything and everything as long as he got to have that. As long as he got to have you.

me and open, vague endings are besties if you couldn't tell ;)

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #abby writes 💻

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grimoirguestbook · 9 months ago

Text

Book of Bill Website Codes

(Organized by category with notes)

Here's my list of inputs that work on the website :)

Hopefully the read more works like I think it does and I don't accidentally spoil anybody

That being said by clicking read more you will see All of the codes I have found so far

Please be mindful and try not to spoil anybody else with this information. So please be careful if reblogging

I got everything I have collected/found on here, it's a bit messy right now but After I take a small break I'll reorganize and add notes but for now everything's on here, please so check out the posts linked in the log as once I lost all leads I looked to their post for other inputs :)

Also feel free to put any you know of that Aren't on here in the replies I'm sure there's some missing

I will be updating as I find more so check back in if you can! :)

Thank you!

They'll be categorized by

Neat Tv text- Nothing special the tv just gets some text to it

Tab pages-brings you to another tab/website

Audio/video- Audio/video clip plays

Readables- A picture will pop up on screen that you can read

Printables- You can print them :D!

Other- Hard to categorize

Note:

If an * is next to a name that means that you can get different results for the same prompt

(Any personal notes will be in parenthesis)

-> An arrow means that the Passwords are found in the previous page

ex- Page with code that translates to "dork"-> Dork

Slashes/mean/that/any/of/the/prompts/listed/will/take/you/to/the/same/page

Blue text with an underline is a link! Haha! would you look at that! it works!

Will Keep this updated as I find more and will Note the logs at the end of this post

?????

For the mason page anagrams I know WHO they are I just don't know WHAT to do with them, i know it says cryptogram codex at the bottom i think i have to do something with the anagram results but I'm unsure what that is. Stanford Pines Stanlie Pines Gideon Charles Gleeful Preston Northwest Pacifica Elisa Northwest

Notes to Dipper Prompt: (Unsure why- Maybe going to Blind eye page and blurring it but changes from dipper being told to stare at the sun to "I THINK ITS WORKING! STARE HARDER! HARDER!" and the page looking burnt I Think it has to do with how many input codes you enter, It now says "you've almost solved it" and is even more burnt than before, it is now full black)

Neat Tv text-

Pines

Blendin

*Triangle

Axolotl

Ducktective

Book of Bill

TJ Eckleburg (Great Gatsby)

Nothing

Something

*Ciphertology

Deer Teeth

Scalene

Scrimbles

Fortnite/skibidi/ohio/rizz/crypto/elon/gyatt/Doge

Life

Death

Portal

Question

Answer

Euclid

*Well Well Well Being

Reality

The Universe

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Theyll see/They'll all see/I see

Filbrick

Disney/Disneyland/Mickey Mouse

CIA/FBI/NSA

333 Sundapple Lane Cozy Creek IL 60714-94611

Season 3

Season 2

Season 1

Caryn

Euclydia

Skeleton

Who are you

Burnside

Family matters

When will I die

Multilevel mark/caesaratbashvigenere

Scientology

Easter egg

Sevral times

oh yes they both

Am i Blanchin

Bye gold

Youre insane

History

Hologram

Scalene

Euclid

Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Text Chain (You get questions who's answer is another password)

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611-> MutliLevel mark->emmaline butternubbins->Dispense my treat

What i thought it was (with answer sources):

Answers found in TBOB- Don't Know, NA, Mcguckets dream page, Medieval page, Anti-Cipher Section- tonic page, Anti Cipher Section- Newspaper, Top Secret page, Textbook page- Skin, Dark Ages Page, Anti Cipher Section-Epilogue, A winter break- footprints page, Book of Bill Cover options page, Never trust a wizard page, Have you dreamed this fellow ad (references informercial in show)

Tab pages-

Abuelita

Dippy Fresh

Alex Hirsch/Alex/Hirsch

*Stan/Stanley (his outfit in ebay searches plus a READABLE with SICK music mind you-Check readable section for more info)

Grunkle Stan

*Gideon (second option unlocked after fully "mableizing" the room)

Waddles

Mcgucket/ Old man McGucket/Fiddleford

Bill/Cipher/LLIB/LLIBREHPIC

Bill Cipher/Rehpic

Zyler (Goes to same place as Craz)

Craz (Goes to same place as Zyler)

Toby Determined

Gravity Falls

Mystery Shack

Not a phase

Blanchin

Peak

Cray Cray

Fixinit1

Meow

Fuck alex/Fuck you alex

Globnar

Monster

Audio/video-

Babba/Discogirl

*Gideon (unlocked after fully "mabelizing" the room)

Tad Strange

Pinata (DEFINATELY WORTH WATCHING)

Vallis Cineris (Found on wall when lightning strikes)

Hey Nerd

Weird (Love him)

Spookemups/Spooky/Scary

That's just a/Theory/Gametheory/Matpat (<3)

One Eyed King-> Naitsuaf (Morse Code) ( early years page)

Forget the past

Im still on your mind

Dorito/Nacho

Just fit in

Rubberhose

Love/Boyfriend

Hectoring

Conspiracy

God/Frillium/Help me

Burned inside

Kook

Kubrick

Small/audio log/music (nothing showed up at first, turned off tv and strange audio played, needs to be reversed)

L is real 2401 (soos my boy)

Readables-

Mason (Dippers real name)

*Dipper (personal notes in ???- keep opening the card to get different results)

Pacifica-> PlatinumPaz

Ford/Standford/Sixer

Wendy

Robbie (def worth a look IMO)

Soos-> Pinata

Cursed (Translated from candle in background)

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Blind Eye->Theyll see (Will blur if clicked on, cannot un-blur, may change dipper?)

Weirdmageddon

Lies

Sorry

Booberry (Decoded from popsicle stick)

Even his lies are lies (Front paper)

Tantrum ( code on Bills Mugshot page)

Suck it Merlin

Shave your Grandma (leads to dippy fresh page)

Baby Bill/baby/lalalalala/daddy/mommy

Owl Trowel

Hotxolotl->Seven eyes-> r34lity

Love ya bro

Fuck/Shit/Fuckyou/bitch/slut/sex

Baaaa-> Black Sheep

naitsuaf (click are you ready-> Sign "pleasure doing business with you -candle light turns blue- OR be a coward (losing sound effect plays)

oroborous-> Frillium

Glass sand beach

math/trigonometry/

horror/creepypasta

destruction is a form of creation

unreality

you can't kill an idea

virus

Occurremusiterum

*Stan (click multiple times to get-once there click "how he beat me several times)

Card

Theraprism

Dionarap->stod eht tcennoc

Printables-

Tyrone/Clone/Paperjam

Curse Wittebane (translates runes on page about witches)

Paper is just book skin ( BE WARNED: automatically downloads a photoshop file and crashses the cite)

Irregular (has code on it)

Divorce/breakup

Other-

Mabel (You get fun stickers and a popping sound :) )

*Giffany ( You put her name in multiple times and it forcibly downloads pictures of her and a text document to your computer, scared me a little Not gonna lie here)

Kings of New Jersey (downloads "secret code" font)

cryptogram codex (downloads cryptogram fonts)

dispense my treat-> Kook (downloads a bunch of cool wallpapers)

Log:

One hour after posting: Added 17 new words

Found by me: Booberry, Mountain Dont, Xgqrthx, titans blood, lyre liar, haralds ramblings, union made

Accidentally found by looking at a post: Sorry

Gifted by replier (Thank you!): MATPAT, yes, no, Fortnite, life, death, portal, question, answer

30 minutes after last update: 9 Words added

Found by me: Theraprism, 29121239168518, Grebley Hemberdreck, Rat, 3466554, Tinsel Snake, Torture Mentally, Fordtramarine, Gun (shocked that worked It was a joke- "bill cipher has A GUN")

Like THREEEEEEE ish hours later?

Found by me: one eyed king, well well well being, shave your grandma, paper is just book skin, even his lies are lies, forget the past, irregular, euclid, tantrum, suck it merlin

Like 12 hours later

Found by me: Reality, Baby Bill, Reality, The universe, Giffany (why is it two Fs, Blarg) They'll see, I'm still on your mind, Journal 1, Journal 2, Journal 3

Gifted to me by a replier (Thank you!): Owl Trowel

Idk- Later

Found by me: hotxolotl, lova ya bro, kings of new jersey, fuck, just fit in

Found on twitter(JasonRitter): Dorito, Blanchin'

Gifted to me by Replier(Thank you!): Gideon's option knowledge

Even MORE later:

Me: Seven eyes, r34ality, filbrick, disney, skibidy, rizz, ohio, love, cia, fbi, rubberhose, 333 sundapple lane cozy creek il 60714-94611, bahhhh, black sheep, naitsuaf, oroborous,theyll see, theyll all see Frillium, occuremusiterum (some of these i gave myself because i was really close but just missed a small detail/spelling)

Taken from here and Here Because I got stumped: Season 3, Season2 , Season 1, Glass shard beach, caryn, Euclydia, Peak, Theory, Cray Cray, Help me, mickey mouse, hectoring, divorce, breakup, skeleton, math, history, monster, gyatt, who are you, fixinit1, conspiracy, riddle, cryptogram codex, horror, creepypasta, trigonometry, god, boyfriend,baby, lalalalala, scary, trigonometry,just blendin, morality, burnside, family matters, when will i die, elon, multilevel mark, goodnight sally,paper jam, tourist trap,the duchess approves,shape, scientology, meow, nacho, crypto,sevral times,easter egg, oh yes they both, daddy, mommy, burned inside, destruction is a form of creation, i see, unreality, you can't kill an idea, am i blanchin, fuck alex, fuck you alex, fuck you, shit, bye gold, nsa, globnar,disneyland,kook, kuibrick,virus,that's just a, you're insane

Next day

Found online: Dionarap, stod eht tcennoc, dispense my treat

566 notes · View notes

jungkoode · 2 months ago

Text

OFF-LABELS | O7

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: February 26th, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: House calls that go wrong, sweater weather complications, unexpected revelations that change everything, surgical precision used for mending more than just socks, and the kind of silence that speaks volumes. | emotional tension, domestic setting, power dynamics, moral crisis, medical ethics, complex relationships, emotional warfare, guilt and desire, medical authority questioned, professional boundaries, casual clothes, internal conflict, communication breakdown, ethical dilemmas, misunderstandings.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,9k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: Okay, so FINALLY posting the drama chapter!! Before you dive in, I need to make something very, very, very (did I say very?) clear about what's happening here. This chapter is absolutely NOT about virginity or some gross purity kink. Like, I would literally projectile vomit if anyone suggested I was writing that kind of male-gaze "untouched flower" bullshit. We are not in Stephen King territory here, describing "pale creamy mommy tits" or whatever horrifying descriptors men think are sexy. 🤢 The actual issue is about psychological dynamics and consent. Throughout these chapters, Hoseok has been enjoying this cat-and-mouse game where Y/N is clearly attracted to him but constantly second-guessing herself. He's been deliberately keeping her in this state of "is he into me or am I imagining it?" because he gets off on her uncertainty. He likes the plausible deniability! He likes watching her squirm! The PROBLEM hits when he realizes she's a virgin, which makes his brain connect some horrifying dots: if she's never been with anyone before, she doesn't understand the psychological game they're playing. She's not pretending to be confused as part of the dynamic—she genuinely doesn't know what's happening. His visceral reaction isn't "oh no, she's pure and innocent!" It's "oh fuck, I've been psychologically conditioning someone who didn't even know they were being manipulated." He thought they were engaged in mutual psychological edging, but now he realizes he's just been breaking her down without her even knowing there was a game being played. And let me clarify something important—when I say "conditioning" or when Hoseok feels like he's been "grooming" her, this is NOT actual grooming in the predatory sense. These are two consenting adults (Y/N is 23ish? Hoseok is 27/28ish?) who have known each other for years (she's had a crush on him for FOUR years, and he's been playing this game for about two). She's in her first year of med school, he's a first-year resident. I've calculated these ages very specifically to keep everything firmly in legal, consensual adult territory. The issue isn’t the age gap—it’s him realizing she wasn't psychologically equipped to understand the mind game they were playing. He thought she was a willing participant in a psychological dynamic, but now he's realizing she was just genuinely confused and uncertain because she lacks the experience to recognize what was happening. THAT'S why he's disgusted with himself. Not because he doesn't want to be her first (he absolutely does), but because he thinks he's been essentially manipulating someone who wasn't a willing participant in the power dynamic. Anyway, rant over! Enjoy the angst! 😈

PLAYLIST

You’re standing on Hoseok’s doorstep.

Hoseok’s doorstep.

Like, his actual apartment. The place where he lives and sleeps and—

(No. Don’t think about that.)

Your fingers twist anxiously in the hem of your sweater as you stare up at the building. It’s ridiculous. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a private balcony, a lobby that smells like wealth and white oak. This isn’t some cramped resident’s crash pad—it’s the kind of place reserved for surgeons who drive luxury cars, not first-years who live off caffeine and whatever snacks they can steal from the nurses’ station.

It doesn’t make sense.

But then again, nothing about Hoseok ever does.

Your phone screen still glows with the text he sent this morning, casual as anything, like this is normal. Like this is something you do—just show up at his penthouse on a Thursday afternoon. You’d spent twenty minutes drafting excuses, each one more pathetic than the last, until your brother had mentioned it over breakfast:

“Oh yeah, Hoseok said you’re helping him organize his research papers today?”

Your toast had frozen halfway to your mouth. “He… what?”

“For his residency portfolio,” Caleb had said, not even looking up from his phone. “Said he needs a fresh pair of eyes on it.”

The lie was perfect. Believable. Academic.

(Of course it was. Everything about Hoseok is perfect.)

“Right,” you’d managed weakly. “That’s… that’s why.”

“Want me to drop you off? I’m heading that way anyway.”

And that’s how you ended up here—heart thundering against your ribs as you raise your hand to knock. Before your knuckles can touch the door, it swings open.

Your breath catches.

Because this—this isn't hospital Hoseok or teaching Hoseok or even party Hoseok. This is... home Hoseok.

He's wearing soft gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips and a white t-shirt that's clearly been washed too many times, the fabric thin enough that you can almost see the definition underneath. His feet are bare against the hardwood floor, and his hair is slightly messy like he's been running his fingers through it.

It's so domestic it makes your knees weak.

"Come on in." His voice is warm honey, dripping slow and sweet down your spine as he steps aside. The movement makes his shirt ride up slightly, exposing a strip of skin above his waistband that you definitely don't stare at.

(You stare at it.)

Your legs feel like jelly as you step past him into the apartment. His scent is everywhere here—that clean, citrusy smell that haunts your dreams, but stronger now, mixed with something warmer. More intimate.

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft finality that makes your pulse skip.

You're in Hoseok's house.

Alone.

With him.

On a Thursday.

Oh god.

"Shoes off," he instructs gently, and you comply automatically, toeing off your sneakers next to his neatly arranged row of footwear. The sight of your beat-up Converse next to his expensive dress shoes makes something flutter in your stomach.

"This way." His hand settles at the small of your back, guiding you down a hallway lined with framed medical certificates. The touch is light—barely there—but it burns through your sweater like a brand.

You follow him in silence, heart thundering against your ribs as he leads you deeper into his home. Everything is exactly how you imagined it would be: minimalist but warm, all clean lines and rich woods and subtle touches of luxury. A doctor's house. A successful man's house.

(A house where your brother's best friend is about to—)

"Nervous?" His voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, tinged with something that might be amusement.

"No," you lie immediately, the word coming out too fast, too high.

His laugh is soft and knowing as he stops in front of a closed door. "Liar."

Before you can defend yourself, he's opening the door, and—

Oh god.

It's his study.

Of course it's his study.

The room is everything you'd expect: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a massive mahogany desk, leather chairs that probably cost more than your tuition. Late afternoon sunlight streams through tall windows, casting golden shadows across polished surfaces.

But all you can focus on is the way he's looking at you—head tilted slightly, expression gentle but hungry.

Hungry.

"After you," he murmurs, and the words drip like honey down your spine.

You sink into one of the leather chairs, the expensive material creaking softly beneath you. Hoseok settles into the chair beside yours, close enough that his knee almost brushes yours. Almost. The near-contact raises goosebumps across your skin.

"Notes," he says simply, voice steady and professional like this is just another study session. Like you're not alone in his house, surrounded by his scent, drowning in memories of his fingers and his voice and his—

"Right." You reach for your backpack with trembling hands, but the strap slips through your fingers like water. Before it can hit the floor, Hoseok catches it smoothly, his reflexes quick and precise.

(Of course they're precise. He's a surgeon. Those hands are trained for precision.)

"Chip." His voice is gentle—too gentle—as he steadies the bag in your lap. "You're trembling."

Your face burns as his fingers brush against yours, lingering just a second too long. "What's up?"

Everything. Everything is up. You're in his house. Alone. And all you can think about is the way his thumb had pressed against your tongue in the anatomy lab, how his fingers had curled inside you while your brother's party continued downstairs, how badly you want him to—

"Nothing," you manage, voice tight and unconvincing.

He hums—that low, knowing sound he always makes and somehow feels menacing—and suddenly his hand is gripping the edge of your chair. Before you can process what's happening, he's pulling you closer with one fluid movement, the chair sliding across hardwood like you weigh nothing at all.

Your breath catches sharply at the display of casual strength.

Because fuck—how can someone be this effortlessly powerful? This casually devastating?

Does he even realize what he's doing to you, or is this just how he is?

Just Hoseok being Hoseok, completely unaware of how every little thing he does makes you want to crawl into his lap and—

"Nothing?" he repeats softly, and now his knee is definitely touching yours, the heat of him burning through your jeans. "You sure about that?"

No. You're not sure about anything anymore, except maybe the way your heart is trying to escape your chest and the fact that you're probably going to die right here in this expensive leather chair, killed by proximity and the ghost of his fingers on your skin.

His gaze lingers on your trembling hands, head tilting the way it does during patient evaluations—assessing, calculating.

“Your motor coordination's deteriorated since Saturday," he muses, leaning back in his chair with deceptive nonchalance. "We should address that first."

You open your mouth to protest, but he's already spreading his legs, the movement slow and deliberate. His sweatpants strain slightly over his thighs as he nods toward the newly created space between them.

"Come here."

The command is velvet-soft, phrased like a suggestion but weighted like an order. Your heart stutters as his fingers drum once—twice—against his left thigh. A silent countdown.

"W-why?" The question comes out breathless, already defeated.

His smile could sanitize an OR. "Ergonomic alignment. You can't properly present your research if your hands won't stop shaking." He gestures to his lap like he's explaining a textbook diagram. "Center of gravity adjustment. Basic kinesiology, Chip."

Your feet move before your brain catches up, drawn by the gravitational pull of his casual authority.

The first brush of your knees against his inner thighs sends electric currents up your spine. He doesn't help you, doesn't touch you—just watches with that infuriatingly patient smile as you awkwardly try to straddle the chair.

"Proper support requires full contact," he chides gently when you hover uncertainly above him.

His hands finally land on your hips, guiding you down until every inch of you molds against him. The heat of his chest seeps through your sweater, his heartbeat thudding steady against your racing one.

"There. Better?"

You nod mutely, hands braced against his shoulders. His t-shirt rides up slightly under your fingers, exposing the warm skin of his collarbone.

"Good." His thumbs dig into the divots of your hips—clinical pressure points that somehow feel indecent. "Now, synaptic transmission." His breath fans across your lips as he reaches past you, grabbing your notebook. "Start with glutamate receptors."

The pages blur as he flips to your highlighted section. His forearm brushes your breast—accidentally?—as he holds the notes up between you.

“Focus, Chip. Unless..." His head tilts, smile sharpening. "...you need tactile reinforcement?"

His knee shifts upward beneath you, applying deliberate pressure where you're already embarrassingly warm. A gasp escapes before you can stop it, fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Ah." His tongue clicks in mock disapproval. "Seems we've identified the distraction." The hand not holding your notes slides up your spine, pressing you closer until his lips graze your ear. "Shall we... desensitize the stimulus?"

His lips find the frantic pulse beneath your ear first—a calculated strike at your carotid artery that makes you sigh.

“Elevated heart rate," he murmurs against damp skin, teeth grazing the spot he'd marked days ago. "Persistent symptom since..." A suckling kiss that pulls a whimper from your throat. "...Thursday's assessment."

Your fingers twist in his worn tee as he works downward, each open-mouthed kiss along your jugular notch methodical. Clinical. Cruel.

"H-Hoseok—"

"Shh." His hand slides up your spine, deft fingers finding your sweater's zipper. "Need to auscultate properly." The zipper parts with a predatory hiss, cool air rushing over your heated skin. "No extraneous layers."

The sweater pools at your elbows before he tugs it off completely. Your arms instinctively cross over your chest—a futile shield against his darkening gaze.

"None of that." He catches your wrists, pinning them gently against his shoulders.

His breath stutters when he sees the bra.

Candyfloss pink. Lace scalloped with tiny bows. Straps straining over the swell of breasts he'd mapped through fabric days prior.

His Adam's apple bobs.

“Well." The word comes out rough, sanded down at the edges. "This is..." His thumb brushes a satin bow between your breasts. "...exceptionally thorough preparation."

You squirm under the praise—the implication—but his grip tightens on your hips. "I didn't—"

"Shh." His palm cups your breast through the lace, calluses catching on delicate threads. "Look at these." His thumb circles your nipple, watching it peak. "Like cherries dusted in sugar.”

"Hoseok—"

"Merely observational." His other hand slips beneath the bra's band, blunt nails scraping your ribcage. "Soft here." A squeeze that makes you arch. "Responsive here." His mouth seals over the lace, tongue swirling the dampening fabric. "Sweet here."

Your head falls back with a choked moo, nails biting into his shoulders. He hums approval against your breast, the vibration ricocheting straight to your clit.

"Still trembling," he notes, fingers walking up your spine to unhook the bra. The clasp gives with a snick that sounds obscenely loud. "We should stabilize your core."

His hands slide around to your front, palms flattening over your bare stomach.

“Deep breath in." You obey shakily. "Hold." His thumbs brush the undersides of your breasts. "Now exhale."

You deflate against him, breasts pressing into his chest. His groan rumbles through you. "There. Better."

His lips find yours in the space between breaths—not a kiss but a shared exhalation.

“Tell me you planned this," he demands against your mouth.

"Planned wh—"

His hips roll up, the thick line of his cock unmistakable through sweatpants and your thin jeans.

“The bows. The pink." A bite to your lower lip. "This devastating little bralette."

"N-no, I just—"

"Liar." He sucks the word from your lips, hands cradling your face. "You knew." Another grind that steals your breath. "Knew I'd want to ruin you in it."

His teeth close on a strap, dragging it down your shoulder. "Knew I'd need to see..." The other strap follows. "...how pretty you look coming undone in pastels."

The bra falls away. His pupils swallow entire galaxies.

"Fuck." The curse is reverence and ruin as he palms your bare breasts. "Should've known you'd weaponize cuteness."

Your retort dies when he lifts you slightly, mouth latching onto a nipple. The suction is brutal—claiming, corrective—as his free hand slides between you.

"Let's see..." His fingers find the button of your jeans. "...if your panties match."

His fingers still for a second as a wicked smile curves against your breast.

“Coordinated sets suggest..." The button pops free. "...premeditation."

You can't deny it—not when his hand slips into your jeans to find matching pink lace waiting.

His laugh ghosts across your damp nipple. “Knew it."

"I didn't—" Your protest breaks on a gasp as his thumb traces the scalloped edge. "It's just—"

"Just happened to wear a complete set?" His teeth graze your collarbone. "Just happened to pick the exact shade that makes me want to..." He tugs your jeans lower, exposing more pink lace. "...devour you?"

Your face burns as his fingers map the delicate fabric.

"Look at these." He hooks a finger under a tiny bow at your hip. "Like sugar spun into thread." His other hand cups your breast again, thumb flicking your peaked nipple.

"Stop—" you whimper, but his palm slides lower, cupping you through damp lace.

"Why?" His smile is gentle poison. "When you clearly dressed for this?" His middle finger traces your slit through the fabric. "When you're already soaking through all this pretty pink?"

Your hips buck against his hand involuntarily. He tsks softly.

"Such a sweet little thing." His fingers press harder, making you mewl. "All wrapped up like candy." His teeth find your pulse. "Makes me want to unwrapyou. Slowly."

The word drips like honey as his hand slips beneath the lace. "See how many licks..." His fingers part your folds. "...it takes..."

Your forehead drops to his shoulder as two fingers slide home.

"...to get to the center."

You let out a shaky exhale at that.

"Still so wet for me," he murmurs against your lips, two fingers pressing inside with careful precision. "Such a good—"

The rhythm of his movements changes subtly—no longer teasing but exploring. Something shifts in his touch, becoming more methodical. More... investigative.

You feel his breath stutter against your neck, the slight tension suddenly coiling through his body where it's pressed against yours.

His fingers curl slightly, pressing deeper, and you tense involuntarily at the unfamiliar pressure. It's different than when he touched you before—that night in your room when he stood behind your chair, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers worked between your thighs. This angle is deeper, more invasive, and your body responds with a reflexive resistance.

"Easy," he whispers, but the playfulness has evaporated from his voice. His free hand moves to your hip, steadying you as his fingers press more deliberately. "Relax for me."

You try, but your muscles tighten instinctively. The slight resistance—the way your inner walls grip his fingers—makes him go absolutely still.

His fingers withdraw so carefully it makes your chest ache. No teasing now. No slow, deliberate drag of his knuckles over your clothed heat just to watch you shudder. Just… absence.

And when you open your eyes, his face is wrong.

Too still. Too pale. His pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the brown. His lips part, then shut again, like he’s bitten through his tongue.

The clinical terms evaporate.

"Chip."

His voice is hoarse.

The nickname that always made your stomach flip—always made you feel small, breakable, something for him to toy with—now sounds like a curse.

Like a word he can’t take back.

His thumb brushes your inner thigh, and—fuck, it’s trembling.

"You’ve never…" The sentence trails off, unfinished.

Your face burns as understanding clicks into place. Of course he can tell. Of course he knows. How many bodies has he been inside? How many women has he unraveled with those precise, knowing hands? Of course he can feel the difference.

"Not with—" your voice comes out too high, too thin, "I mean, I've done other things, but—"

"But never..." His gaze flicks down to where his hand still hovers near your thighs, then back to your face.

"I've used my own fingers," you blurt out, mortified but desperate to explain. "And that time in my room, when you—when we—"

"Different angle," he says quietly, almost to himself. "I was behind you. Not as deep."

You nod, humiliation crawling up your spine like ivy. Your thoughts scatter and race. Does it matter? Why should it matter? It's not like you're some precious untouched flower. It's not like you've been saving yourself. It's just—it's just—

(It's just that nobody has ever made you feel like you wanted to let them inside. Until him.)

"I didn't think it mattered," you whisper, the words tangling in your throat. "It's not like I'm—"

"Not like you're what?" His voice has gone dangerously soft.

"Not like I'm waiting for something special or—or saving myself or whatever stupid thing." Your words tumble out faster. "I just... nobody ever made me want to. Until now."

Silence stretches between you, taut as a surgical suture.

"Until me," he repeats, the words hollow. "Your brother's best friend. The one who's been deliberately blurring lines since the moment we met."

His face changes—like something has clicked into place. Like a puzzle snapping into its final, sickening shape.

But his expression. God. You've never seen him look like this. Like he’s about to be sick. Like you're the one who's done something wrong.

"Don't." Your voice is barely a whisper. Your hands fly up to cover your face. "Don’t make it a thing."

"It is a thing."

His voice cracks.

And when you peek through your fingers, he’s staring at your thighs, at the damp lace beneath the unbuttoned denim. And his hands—fuck, his hands—are trembling as they move to adjust your jeans, tugging the fabric back into place like he can undo what’s already been done.

"Christ," he breathes, hands fisting against the desk’s edge. "I’m your brother’s—"

"Don’t." You sit up too fast, nearly headbutting him. "Don’t use Caleb as an excuse when you’re the one who—"

"I know." The raw admission stops you cold. His knuckles blanch where he grips the wood. "I know exactly what I’ve done. What I’m doing."

A short, bitter laugh punches out of him.

"Manipulating your crush." His teeth click as his jaw clenches. "Abusing my position. Fucking my best friend’s sister in my—"

"You’re not fucking me!" The words burst out louder than intended. "You’re—you're teaching me. Showing me. And I want it. I asked for it."

His gaze snaps to yours, dark and devastated.

"You don’t know what you’re asking."

"Does it matter?"

"It fucking matters!" His voice is jagged now, slicing through the space between you. "Because if I’d known—if I’d realized—" His throat works. "Christ. I let you choke on my cock. Made you take the whole thing. And you—" His eyes flick down, to your open legs, to the flush of your skin beneath the denim. "You didn’t think to mention—"

“Say it.” Your voice is razor-sharp. “Go ahead. Diagnose me, Dr. Jung. What’s my prognosis?”

His flinch is barely perceptible.

"You’re actually—" His breath catches. His eyes squeeze shut. "Inexperienced."

The clinical term dangles between you, sterile and ugly.

"So?" You lift your chin, daring him to look at you. "I wanted this. With you."

His inhale is sharp. Like something being ripped out of him. His head tilts, his gaze drags over you—shaky, uncertain, searching. And then—

His face changes.

Like something has clicked into place. Like a puzzle snapping into its final, sickening shape.

"You don't understand what we've been doing." The words come out like they're being dragged from him. "All this time—the teasing, the ambiguity, the doubt—"

"I understand perfectly well," you snap, but he's already shaking his head.

"No. You don't." His voice breaks on the last word. "This whole thing—the way I've been treating you—it's a specific kind of dynamic. A power exchange. A mind game."

He pushes off the desk, runs his hands roughly through his hair.

"I thought you were playing along," he continues, voice rising with each word. "I thought you understood the game—that you were pretending not to know what was happening. That you were letting me seduce you, letting me make you doubt yourself because you liked it."

Your stomach drops as the implications settle.

"But you weren't playing," he says, voice hollow now. "You weren't pretending to be confused. You actually didn't know what was happening."

He staggers back like he’s been struck. One step. Then two. And then—

Oh, God.

He actually retches.

Bends over, a harsh, sick sound ripping from his throat, hands braced on his knees like he might actually vomit right there on the fucking floor.

Your stomach twists violently.

"Hoseok—"

"Don’t."

He doesn’t even lift his head. His shoulders are heaving, and the fingers pressed to his lips are shaking, and fuck, fuck, fuck, what have you done?

Why does it feel like you’re the one who did something wrong?

"You got off on it." Your voice is quieter now. Less rage, more—god, you don’t even know. "You liked making me doubt myself. Pretending this was all in my head. But now that you know I’m actually—"

"That’s the fucking problem!"

His voice breaks.

Loud. Raw. A guttural, vicious thing ripped straight from his chest.

His hands are in his hair, gripping hard. His chest rises, falls—too fast, too sharp, like he can’t catch his breath.

"You were doubting yourself," he grits out. "Actually doubting yourself. You weren’t playing—you weren’t teasing, you weren’t pretending to hesitate—you didn’t know!"

You don’t speak. You can’t.

"You weren’t letting yourself be seduced." His voice drops lower, ragged. "I was conditioning you."

The room tilts.

"You didn’t need coaxing. You weren’t fighting it. You just didn’t know what was happening to you." His eyes are blown wide, almost frantic. "And I liked it."

The breath punches out of your lungs.

"I liked watching you get flustered. I liked seeing you hesitate." His voice is hoarse, unsteady. "I liked watching you struggle to figure out if it was real or in your head."

Something in your stomach plummets.

"But it was never a fucking game for you," he rasps. "You weren’t playing along. You weren’t playing at all."

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

His hands drag down his face. His shoulders are still heaving, like his body is rejecting the words even as he says them.

"I wanted—fuck." His fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard at the roots. "I wanted to ruin you. In pastels, on your knees, pink lace soaked through because I made you like this. I wanted you pliant, desperate—mine—but I never wanted—I thought you knew this type of play—"

His next inhale is sharp.

"But you didn't know the rules at all. Because you've never even played the game before."

His face is ashen now, like all the blood has drained from it.

“Put your clothes on.”

The finality in his voice turns your bones to ice.

And you realize—too late—that the real game is over.

You dress mechanically, fingers trembling on each button. He watches like a surgeon monitoring vitals—detached, analytical.

The car ride is silent.

Your phone buzzes at 2 AM:

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙻𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔’𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚖𝚞𝚗𝚔 𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍. 𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚎.

𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝: A photo of your sock, neatly mended.

𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢.

You stare at the message until the screen dims.

He’s lying.

He has to be lying.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 days ago

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hello! i was looking at this post you made and was curious—what are your thoughts on yuu and pomefiore? you mention that yuu seems closer to heartslabyul and i agree, but i've always gotten the vibes since the training camp + the styx invasion immediately after that the dorm yuu is next closest to is pomefiore (i mainly mean vil because epel is one of the freshmen and rook is rook, but also just the entire pomefiore group as a whole). i can't remember any specifics off the top of my head so maybe i'm imagining it lol, but they stay in pomefiore when repairs are being done on ramshackle right? though ig it's fair to say just because they stay that doesn't mean they're close or anything, but... IDK I CAN'T REMEMBER!!! i SWEAR they just give me closer vibes and i'm almost certain there's a reason/more canon interactions between them to denote them...

sorry for rambling and thank you in advance! i hope you're having a nice day!

I already touched on Epel and Rook in the original post! Epel’s part of the first years, who get plenty of amicable interactions with Yuu across the main story, events, and vignettes. Rook is one of the friendlier NRC students, but he hasn’t shown to have a particular preference for Yuu specifically. He’s strangely friendly even to those that make their disdain for him no secret. As for Vil, I can’t really think of any significant interactions beyond his Mouse Mandated slots that everyone gets (ie featured in his own book, the follow-up book, and their own dream section in book 7). This is in contrast to Heartslabyul members, who do get moments where they spend “extra” time with or give “extra” consideration to Yuu. For example, Trey sends Adeuce over with an apple cake and a chocolate pie for the training camp, and Riddle welcomes Yuu to tour the cultural fair with him.

It’s true that Yuu and Grim stayed at Pomefiore while the renovations were underway. However, as you said, staying over doesn’t necessarily indicate friendship. Leona let us stay over at Savanaclaw in book 3, and he still quite unfriendly about it. Vil could be letting Yuu and Grim stay over at Pomefiore as a courtesy (especially considering he is, perhaps, the OB boy that takes the most personal accountability for his actions).

I think we may believe that Pomefiore is closer with Yuu than other dorms due to 1) the length of time they spend together (since Pomefiore gets a month, while most other books only last a few days to maybe a week or two) and 2) Vil responding in a much more mature way than other OB boys do. For example, Vil is one of the few OB boys that apologizes after the fact—and apologizes multiples times, at that. Furthermore, he grants us money for Ramshackle renovations and hugs + kisses us as thanks for coming to rescue him in book 6. These are arguably all much more favorable and intimate reactions than like… Leona getting pissed at us calling out to him in book 6, Azul demanding that we pay for damages incurred to the Mostro Lounge, etc.

I think another contributing factor to the perceived “closeness” with Pomefiore is that we launch into action and high stakes almost immediately with them (courtesy of the S.T.Y.X. invasion) in book 6. We spend a good chunk of that book with 2/3 of Pomefiore’s members and then spend another good chunk with all 3 members after we reunite with Vil. In most of the other books, it takes a while to build up to build up the tension or for all members of a dorm to interact with us. In some cases, not all of the dorm members even make a major showing. For example, Trey is out for most of book 2 on account of his injuries, Leona and Ruggie don’t become relevant again in book 3 until 1/3 of the way through it, we don’t group up with Ignihyde until 100+ parts into book 7, etc.

I don’t interpret the entirety of Pomefiore as being intimate with Yuu on account of Rook being friendly in general (even to those openly hostile towards him, like Leona). Additionally, many of Vil’s “friendly” actions easily can be explained by his own gratitude (for coming to rescue him) or apologies for costing them the VDC/SDC win. We also just do not see many instances—be it main story, vignettes, or events—in which Vil and Rook have special interactions with Yuu, despite Epel having many of these moments. In fact, Vil seems to largely not acknowledge Yuu’s presence in Tapis Rogue (despite asking Yuu to be there as a candid photographer) and, hilariously enough, wonders if he should abandon Yuu in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas. The original post was asking for the characters Yuu is closest with, and I think it’s pretty easy to say that Heartslabyul is the dorm that triumphs in this regard.

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mouse-holes · 2 months ago

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Do you think Mumbo shaves his pussy so it’s a second moustache

Definitely bush imo, but I think it still has two little mustache curls. This is because I'm based and smart as hell obvs

#mouse's secret ramblings #mumbo with like. mostly bald pussy is cursed to me I'm ngl #but maybe I'm just a bush enjoyer u_u

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mouse-holes · 5 months ago

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I will be getting to the requests sent to this blog too when I can, don't worry! Rest assured that I have seen the asks sent, and I'm slowly working in my free time, but they may not be posted until late in the month. Thank you for your patience and support :]

I probably will not be posting much art this month, as finals are taking a huge toll on me. Thank you for the support I've gotten on a lot of the things I've posted!

#mouse's secret ramblings #from main

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aaazade · 3 months ago

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HOUSTON WE HAVE A PROBLEM ── EPISODE TWO 𖤐

⤷ 𝄞⨾ 𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎: 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐙𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐒

AUTHOR'S NOTE : i do not own any of these characters except my own. minors, please do not interact as this is mature content with dark and sexual themes. all of my characters are black women so please respect that as you read! all lowercase is intended in this writing. ( i love choso's eyebags, please don't kill me when y'all read this). i'm so grateful for all the love on my last post! PAIRING: rockstar!sukuna x tourmanager!blackreader RATING: 18+, again mdni WARNINGS: yandere-ish moments, rock band, reader is black, usage of being held hostage, dírty talk, vampire!sukuna, dubcon, biting, drinking blood, slowburn, eventual smut, sort of angsty, stalker!sukuna, set in mostly southern cities, attempted mind control, secret society, royalty, masked men, usage of foul language, fire usage, sleep watching, sukuna's pov

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: when tour manager!reader gets sucked into the rock world after big time group ‘dark curse’ seeks her out to plan and arrange their tour in the us. heinous secrets unfold about the group as she gets closer to the pink haired lead singer in the ‘bone demon’ mask. does she run for the hills or does she play cat and mouse? find out in "houston, we have a problem!"

check out the rest of the series here!

“cheers!”

sloshes of maltreated liquor stung the back of his throat with vigor. it was appalling how humans deserted their thinking and ration for a few moments of daze and desire. small murmurs of chatter follow the background’s ambience, the team’s dinner party going slower than he imagined. truth to be told, he would be on the tour bus devouring a long awaited meal if you were knee to knee, pressing up against his arm to make room for the others at the table.

ryomen’s eyes cut to your hazy, relaxed figure. slouching against the padded oak wood chair, you were currently in a heated debate with your sister about… well actually he didn’t quite pick up what it was about.

no, ryomen was occupied being fixated on the curves and dips of your plush duo-colored lips, the way your eyes glowed with a soft brilliance at the suggestions of greasy foods and delights, how your the ringlets of your curls fell pass the juncture of your clavicle and shoulder down to brush against your waist.

how dare you enchant him? make him feel as if he has an obligation to be in your orbit, an obligation to admire you as if you aren’t human like the rest of them.

pathetic.

if this damn bind didn’t constrain him, the easiest option would be to drain you and leave your body by some unknown murky riverside in the depths of a foreboding cathedral of towering greenery.

he sneers instead, choosing the route most comparable to an insolent pubescent teen.

one long, slender finger proddes the seam at your waist of your wine red dress, your rambling coming to a halt. your eyes flaring at the growing lift at the corners of his mouth.

“fuck do you want, sukuna?” your eyebrows furrowed together, a cute little pout settling on your plush lips.

just as threatening as a baby tiger trying to show off their claws.

shit, he felt his blood rushing south like some measly fucking loser who hasn’t seen the touch of a woman in his life. all because you batted your lashes and spoke to him.

again, pathetic.

you had ignored him all night, opting to throw shots back and participating in team building strategies and other useless parlors. he was no fool, your scent usually stood akin to the smell of a fresh waterfall drifting into a pool of something floral. maybe water lilies? even roses. but now, it’s laced with the burning embers of something sweet. honey.

arousal. he was sure of it.

even now, flushed together as everyone else had risen up to find the dance floor, your eyes showed your true hues of emotions. red, yellow, pinks-

“would you fight me if i said you..?” your nose scrunched up in disgust, pushing the planes of his chest to seek out your sister.

guess it was time to go, huh?

“ugh, shut the fuck up! i’m leaving-” he couldn’t take you seriously with you stumbling and hiccuping your way down the steps, entering into the sea of people below.

and as much as he would love to sit and grovel, his heart felt like it was breaking at its enclosure at the sight of your growing distance with him.

he groaned, taking after you with long strides. his heavy footsteps followed behind the nimble wobble of yours, grasping at your wrist.

“look just-”

“no!” you whipped around shoving a manicured nail in the brunt of his chest. “i know there’s something-.... something that lurks in the shadows with you. i’m no fool, so stay away from m- mmph!”

smart girl. he’ll give you your credit. at least you have some survival instincts and wit about you. not only that, but you had the gall to stand your ground against him, huh?

a dark sneer rippled from his tongue, the kind of laugh that made the air thick and heavy. a heavy hand came up to cup your jaw.

your drunken fury simmered right back down to the tender laps of waves.

those treacherous pulses of heat ate at his control. eating at his will to not to take you into the back of some shitty storage room and show you the purge of darkness you think he hides.

not yet, you need more time.

ryomen tipped his head back to find some semblance of control, wielding the hunger and lust to draw back.

fucking woman, you driving him insane like this must be some sort of sorcery.

“go sit your ass down, now. your sister is fucking fine with those two freaks. ” he commanded, meeting the gaze in your eyes. your stance never wavered, the fire in your eyes refusing to be snuffed out.

yet, you ended up with your ass in a chair.

better than that, before he hung up the phone call to his personal driver, your eyes fluttered shut. the music thrumming in the background lulled you to fall asleep all less than five minutes. your head couldn’t hold it’s weight in your unconscious state, tilting until he had to clasp his hand to your forehead to catch it before it thudded against the table. opting to just sling you in his arms princess style, his boots began the journey, hitting the gravel outside of the building.

the city hummed its gentle tune in the background of the car, each passing street light catching the planes and dips that make the features on your face stand out. your lashes fluttered on the tops of your cheek with every inhale you take, chest rising in miniscule measurements. he felt a desperate urge to swallow you in his grip and hold you tight against his icy skin.

when the car rolled to a stop, ryomen cradled you in his arms once again, stepping into the shadows as a cloud of crimson swirled around the both of them, only dispersing seconds after in the middle of your hotel room like the parting of a fog.

his slender palm caressed your temple, the ice-kissed temperature of his lips pressing a sweet kiss there as he lowered you into the soft cushion of your sheets, his parting goodbye.

with another unnecessary breath, he rose up, striding over to pull the balcony door open.

“goodnight, my little tiger. you put up a good fight today.”

he slipped in the chilled gust of darkness, scarlet eyes lazily observing his surroundings as he appeared again across the street under a pole light. he could see you from his view below, from the tiny flickers of emotion in your expression as you dream dotingly to the soft twitch in your balled up fist uncurling as though you were reaching out from someone. for him.

“here, take it old fart.”

the younger ones these days are so disrespectful.

ryomen tilted his head over his shoulder to meet choso’s bored, chestnut irises ringed with that familiar, awful looking purple bags. pastel pink strands wisped away as he ran his hands through the base of his scalp.

“brat…” he grumbled, snatching the damn stick away in sheer pettiness.

there was an understanding of silence for a second, before choso huffed out a cloud of smoke.

“are you ever going to tell her? she’ll find out sooner than later, y’know.” he stated, rolling his eyes at ryomen’s antics as the second cloud of smoke filled the ice chilled air around them.

“i know that-” he growled. “i’d promptly advise you to shut the fuck up. i didn’t bother you when you were a pathetic loser for your wife.”

but despite the intensity of emotion behind his voice, choso simply shrugged his leather clad shoulders, taking his long strides away from from the 6’3 man. as he departed ryomen was so sure he hear that fucker grumble under his breath.

“at least i don’t have to stalk my wife like some old ass creep. wait until hayden finds you ‘edward-ing’ her sister.”

to fucking hell with that brat, the duo freaks, and their bonded. even if she is your sister, nobody will stop him from making you his.

conjuring forth a spark that gradually speared into a large crimson hue of a flame in his hand, he seeks you out till the sun bleeds a path of light through your balcony and wakes you to the day’s journey.

and when the sun sets and your mind drifts off into a careless realm of dreams… there he is again.

watching. waiting. protecting. yearning.

the usual humid heat of atlanta had simmered down into a drizzle calm. the streets were quite muted and lackluster from its usual loud blares of horns and activity. shades of greys and browns muddles its unique colors into a foggy storm. inside, the light flooded the room into a dim shade adjusting to the small quantity of natural rays from outside.

ryomen preferred this weather, something dreary. the type of weather that you could slip and disappear into the shadows and no one would bat an eye. the tapping rhythm of the rain dripped down the windows, capturing the spark of each flash with it.

“okay, everyone big smiles! one, two, three.”

his expression didn’t change much, of course. with each click next to a fan, ryomen stood tall, only a hint of impish tilt to the corner of his lips.

you stood maybe a good twenty feet away, your sister conducting the line to know that each individual gets enough time. your makeup was all done up, rocking a new hairstyle as you took long, away shots for promo.

he didn’t understand the schematics of it, but today it was a honey blonde, fading into a lighter shade of platinum around your waist.

a tinge of possessiveness curled around his ribcage.

‘pink would look better on you.’ he settled, a needy image rampaging through the cornered angles of his mind about how fucking gorgeous you would look splayed out on his onyx sheets with matching pale pink-

“okay, sukuna. one last picture.”

he slouched, forgetting to keep up with what’s natural to humans and what’s seen as… eerie, abnormal.

appearances, he supposes.

if not for shitty rules and customs he once was a part of, drakari traditions would have no substance on his life.

the last fan staggered on the podium taking the center of the group. he smelt… something pungent radiating from the male, face covered with a black mask.

but his eyes.. they were beady. like the life was sucked out from him, leaving only the remains of an outer shell.

“i remember something..” the man’s voice croaked alive, fingers shaky as they traveled to the edge of his facial mask.

“i remember.. that day that our village burned… so much smoke that the surrounding villages couldn’t see what really happened. what you really did-”

“alright guys! three-”

“is that right?” ryomen’s brows jumped at the man's tone, snarling, his chaos magic swirling, clawing like an animal to be released as the man taunted with those same beady eyes fusing into gold.

“two-”

“emperor ryomen sukuna”

“one!”

a loud cackle left the greasy man the same time a ‘pop’ echoed, heat spilling into the room at degrees to turn bones into ashes. screams ignited at the sight of flames blistering through the plaster covered walls in the building, crowds of people merging together to find any possible exit.

yet with each face he searched, none bared close to the resemblance of yours.

“fuck!” he roared over the crackles of flames and fear induced screams.

all five heightened senses working together as something ill made its way to his still heart at the thought of you stuck under rubble, lungs collapsing as you fight for your last breath.

no, not today. not ever.

and there it was, the scent of the rushing waterfall and bright lilies. he found you grasping desperately at multiple shoulders, presumably searching for the soft touch of your sister.

he swears some more profanities under his breath, clasping your shaky body under his. by the time your eyes opened after you blinked, you stood barreled under him in the middle of the park trail seven blocks down the street.

ryomen studied the contours on your face morphing from shock, to confusion, then finally landing in.. horror.

“n-no. no! how do we get here like that? ryomen…. where is my sister? oh my fucking god, is she still in there?” that unyielding boldness you carried had you clawing at him as if you could escape his grasp. though, you still shook like a leaf.

“my sister- ah! let the fuck go of me! she could be still in there! and you! with your freaky shit, what the fuck are you-”

his hands find their way to your cheeks again, clasping on as he bends forward. the both of you are only centimeters apart, your eyes searching for something found and strong behind the depths of those scarlet irises.

“breathe.”

his only command, and yet you sucked in the crisp morning air, blowing out the smears of smoke you escaped from.

“your sister is fine.. so just breathe, mama. just.. breathe. i’ll tell you everything later..”

those duo freaks would eat the world alive if anything happens to hayden.

ugh, especially blonde freak.

a strong chortle rings through his mind, affirming the hayden is indeed just with freak one and two.

now that not a hair was stinged on your head, maybe it’s time he goes to visit that zenin bastard.

it may end with the last remaining zenin’s heart clutched in his hand, as he sits on his throne in his court full of blood and bones.

all work belongs to to @aaazade please do not copy, translate without permission, or post my work! let me know if anyone would like to be apart of my taglist as i post each episode. hope you enjoyed episode two and be sure to comment for more!

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cece693 · 8 months ago

Text

You're Not Crazy Pt.1 (The Mad Hatter x M! Reader)

I got an ask some time ago about writing for other Depp characters such as the Mad Hatter. I haven't seen the movies recently, so some things might not be canon, however, I do want to explore this fandom since it is relatively empty of fanfics :) I left it purposefully open-ended in case you guys want a 2nd part.

Summary: You believed your sister when she returned home and spoke of a land where magical and peculiar people roamed. You asked her to take you there, and there, you encounter the Mad Hatter.

tags: of age reader, your Alice's brother, older by a few years, you hadn't seen wonderland before, not following story or book timeline

You believed your sister from the moment she returned home, eyes wide and voice trembling with excitement. She spoke of a world hidden beyond the ordinary, a place where logic twisted into nonsense and peculiar beings roamed freely—a land called Wonderland. You listened, enraptured, as she described a realm of talking animals, living chess pieces, and the most unusual of tea parties. While others dismissed her tales as ramblings of a crazed girl with an overactive imagination, you knew better. You had always known better.

“I want to see it,” you told her one evening. “I want to go there, too.”

Your sister hesitated, her face clouding with concern. “It’s not a place for everyone,” she said softly. “It can be…overwhelming.” But you insisted. If she could brave Wonderland, then so could you. And so, with reluctance, she agreed.

The next day, you followed her through the forest behind your home, down winding paths that seemed to shift and change when you weren’t looking. Eventually, she stopped by a large oak tree, its roots sprawling like the fingers of some great, sleeping beast.

“This is where I fell through.” And before you could ask what she meant, she took your hand and jumped, pulling you into the hollow darkness beneath the tree.

The fall was long and winding, like tumbling through a kaleidoscope of colors and strange sounds. When you finally landed—rather unceremoniously—on a bed of soft grass, you found yourself surrounded by an impossible landscape. The sky was a deep lavender, the grass a brilliant shade of blue. Flowers whispered secrets as you passed, and a brook giggled like a child at play.

"Welcome to Wonderland." Your sister announced with a smile, her eyes alight with familiarity.

It was more magical and bizarre than you could have imagined. You wandered through towering mushroom fields and past chattering woodland creatures, your eyes darting in awe. But one tale from your sister’s stories captivated you most—the Mad Hatter and his eternal tea party.

You begged her to take you there, and she obliged, leading you down a winding path that seemed to twist back on itself like a living thing. She left you at the entrance to a clearing, insisting that the rest of this adventure would be yours alone.

“Just be careful with him.” she warned softly before disappearing back down the path. Confused by her words, you approached the clearing cautiously, the sound of clinking china and cheerful, nonsensical chatter growing louder with each step. And then you saw him—the Mad Hatter, sitting at the head of a long, crooked table filled with teapots, mismatched cups, and an array of pastries that defied description.

His hair was a wild mop of orange curls and his large green eyes glimmered with a feverish brightness. Beside him sat a hare who seemed to be caught in a perpetual state of alarm, and a sleepy mouse that napped in a teapot.

“More tea?” the Hatter exclaimed, lifting a cup in your direction before noticing you. “Ah, a new guest! How splendid, how rare!”

You hesitated, taking in his erratic movements and the almost manic excitement in his voice. He seemed to be all contradictions—both welcoming and wary, kind and somehow unsettling.

“I…I’ve heard a lot about you.” You said carefully, stepping closer.

“Have you, now?” The Hatter's eyes widened, and he leaned forward as if this was the most intriguing news he'd heard all day. “And what did you hear? That I’m mad as a hatter?”

You chuckled. “Well, yes. But also that you throw the best tea parties in Wonderland.”

This seemed to please him immensely. “Then you’ve heard correctly!” he declared, standing up with a flourish. “Do sit, do sit! There’s always room for one more at my table. Unless, of course, it’s Tuesday, and we’re already three cups deep in the riddle rounds. But it’s not Tuesday, is it?”

You shook your head, finding yourself smiling despite the oddity of it all. “No, it’s not Tuesday.”

“Wonderful! Sit, sit!” He patted a chair beside him, his smile so wide it was almost infectious. As you took your seat, he poured you a cup of tea without asking if you wanted one, dropping in a few sugar cubes for good measure. “Tell me, what brings you to my humble tea party? And don't say 'a rabbit,' because that would be terribly unoriginal.”

You explained how your sister had told you stories of this place and how you wanted to see it for yourself. The Hatter listened with an almost childlike fascination, nodding and “hmming” at all the appropriate moments.

“There’s something different about you.” he said thoughtfully after a while. “Most people who come here are either lost or looking for something they don’t understand. But you—oh, you’re not like the others, are you?”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I just…wanted to see if it was real.”

The Hatter’s grin softened into something almost genuine. “And now that you’re here? What do you think?”

“I think it’s more than real,” you said. “It’s…alive.”

His eyes seemed to glow with approval. “I like you.” he declared suddenly. “You’re not afraid of madness. You might even be a bit mad yourself.”

You laughed, feeling a strange warmth spreading through your chest. For all his eccentricities, the Hatter made you feel like you belong in this topsy-turvy world. And you realized, with a start, that you liked it. You liked him.

As the days passed, you found yourself returning to the Hatter's tea party again and again. You never knew what to expect—sometimes, you’d spend hours debating the merits of invisible jam; other times, you’d sit in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the strangeness of each other’s company.

The Hatter, for his part, seemed equally drawn to you. He would light up whenever you appeared, his eyes twinkling with mischief and delight. There were moments when his wildness would soften, and you’d catch a glimpse of something deeper beneath the madness—something vulnerable and achingly sincere.

But as the weeks turned into months, a quiet conflict began to stir within you. Wonderland was a place where time didn’t matter, where rules were made to be broken, and madness was a way of life. And yet, the longer you stayed, the more you began to feel a strange pull—a yearning for the world you had left behind. Memories of home, of mornings filled with familiar scents and sunsets painting the sky in shades of gold, tugged at the edges of your mind. Then there was your sister who you dearly missed. You tried to ignore the pull, losing yourself in the Hatter's antics but the feeling persisted.

The Hatter noticed, of course. He was always watching you with those keen, almost too-bright eyes. One evening, as you sat together beneath the stars, he turned to you, his expression unusually serious.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

“Thinking about what?”

“Leaving.” he said, his voice edged with something fragile and raw. “Going back to your world. Abandoning me.”

His words cut deeper than you expected. “It’s not like that, Hatter. I just…I miss some things from home.”

“But you can’t have both.” he replied sharply. His hands trembled as he poured himself another cup of tea, spilling more than half of it onto the table. “You can’t live in two worlds at once. Sooner or later, you have to choose.”

You felt a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. “I don’t want to leave you. Not really.”

“Not really?” he repeated, his voice rising, eyes narrowing as he stared at you. “But ‘really’ enough to think about it. To dream of it.”

The words stung, and you felt a flare of frustration. “It’s not that simple, Hatter! You don’t understand—”

“I don’t understand?” His voice rose, and he stood abruptly, knocking over his chair. “Oh, I understand perfectly! You think you can dip in and out of Wonderland as you please, but this place changes you. It consumes you. And you think you can just walk away?”

“I don’t know what I want!” you shouted back, standing to face him. “I care about you, I do. But I can’t just—”

“Then go!” he interrupted, his face twisted in anger and heartbreak. “Leave if you must. But don’t come back. I can’t bear the thought of you dangling the possibility of forever only to snatch it away.”

“I’m sorry.” you whispered, unsure of what else to say. The Hatter’s face crumpled, and for the first time, you saw him for what he truly was—a broken soul clinging to the one bit of sanity that remained: you.

“Don’t be.” he murmured, turning away. “I’m just a madman, after all. And what would a madman know of love?”

As you stood there, watching him retreat into himself, you felt the weight of the decision pressing down on you like never before. Wonderland was a place of wonder, but it was also a place of madness. Could you stay here forever, leaving the world you knew behind in favor of Hatter's affections?

The answer wasn’t simple. It wasn’t clear. But as you watched the Hatter, his shoulders slumped and his hands trembling, you knew one thing: if you left, a part of you would always remain in Wonderland—lost among the teapots and riddles, forever searching for a madman’s love.

#x male reader #male reader #the mad hatter #alice kingsleigh #mad hatter #tweedle dum #white queen #red queen #alice in wonderland #white rabbit #cheshire cat #alice #the mad hatter x reader #the mad hatter x male reader #hatter x reader #hatter x male reader

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