If you want alpha princess and principled poor scholar with RR vibes and canât wait for Tigers, good news! This beauty drops on Thursday!
Clearly arrogant princess and scholar of inferior standing is the new flavor du jour and I canât complain. I want to snark âwhat hath Princess Wanning wroughtâ but it was a thing long before (see the novel The Grand Princess is based on) and hopefully will be long after. though while we had a bunch of minis with that set up, full length dramas are rarer and while this isnât a full length 40 eps of 45 min set up, itâs one of those billibilli in the middle things of 18 eps of half an hour or so each.
I honestly wasn't sure whether I should say anything about this because the last thing I wanted was to start another round of drama, but at this point I don't feel comfortable just staying quiet.
I came across an account @kitkatontheblog that has been taking fics written by NHL authors and rewriting them for soccer players. I've listed the stories below, along with the original authors, so you can see for yourselves:
More than Friends â originally written by @linaaawrites (Friends donÂŽt look at friends that way)
Off Season paid off â originally written by @linaaawrites (Bulking season)
Stay Quiet â originally written by @hockeyduck (Fraser Minten bathroom sex fic)
Care for you â originally written by @hockeyduck (Ben Kindel sick fic)
Miss you - originally written by @linaaawrites (the phone sex part is by one of her JH fics, the rest sounds familiar too though)
I don't know whether this person is Katherine or not and I don't want to make an accusation that I can't prove. But regardless of whether these are connected or not, I cannot and will not just sit back and watch someone steal other people's work (again)
I have actually tried reaching out to this person directly, but they've completely ignored me. And honestly, I don't understand how people can still be this shameless about stealing someone else's work.
And considering that there has already been a hate wave that affected several authors, I genuinely can't help but wonder whether there could be a connection. I want to be very clear that I don't know that for a fact and I'm not claiming that this account is responsible for any of that.
I really hope the two authors I've tagged here don't take this the wrong way. I wasn't sure whether I should include your names and I'm more than happy to remove the tags if you'd prefer. I know Lina probably won't even see this for a while anyway, but I still wanted to make sure the original authors were credited and aware of what's happening.
Please block and report this account if you come across it. I'm honestly just tired of watching people make other writers' lives harder and acting like they can get away with stealing their work.
Not that many care but i will be taking an indefinet hiatus from mist things hockey. It was fun loving allyour stories and hopefully bringing joy with my commentary
I wasn't sure if I wanted to say anything or just quietly disappear for a little while but I didn't want to leave without explaining why I suddenly went silent sooo.... I'm (once again) back at my fav place (the hospital) because my body just hates međ The plan is to stay here until my blood test results come back and if everything looks okay (hopefully đ€) I'll be able to go home in a few days again.
I'll still post the two finished fics I had scheduled for tomorrow, but after that you probably won't hear much from me for a little while. Maybe I'll get some writing done like I did last time, it really just depends on how the new medication affects me... and whether I'm absolutely loaded up on painkillers or not đ
To be honest, I think I need a little break anyway. The amount of negativity I've been dealing with lately has become a bit too much and I can feel that it's starting to affect me more than I'd like to admit.
I also wanted to let you all know that I'm turning off anonymous asks for a while because of that.
I've been told to kill myself multiple times now and I thought I'd been pretty open about how much those messages affected me. I genuinely thought I'd left that behind, but today someone (or maybe several people) decided it would be funny to start doing it again.
And let me tell you, it isn't funny. It isn't "just the internet" and it isn't something you simply laugh off five minutes later.
Messages like that stay with you. They make you question yourself, they make you dread opening your inbox and they turn something that used to bring you so much happiness into something you become scared of. They don't disappear when you close the app. They stay with you, they replay in your head and they make you wonder what you did to deserve that kind of hatred.
So if the person (or people) sending these messages are reading this: if you don't like me, that's okay. You don't have to. Please just block me, unfollow me or ignore me entirely. Please do anything except send messages telling another human being to kill themselves. It's incredibly cruel and no one deserves to read things like that
SUMMARY: Quinn and you (two longtime friends) fall into an unexpected (and very tipsy) game of adult poker that strips away more than just clothing. What starts as a drunken, impulsive night turns into honest confessions, quiet morning intimacy, and the decision to finally stop pretending theyâre only friends.
WARNINGS:Explicit sexual content, alcohol use, friends-to-lovers, mild jealousy, oral sex, penetrative sex, mutual non-penetrative intimacy, brief mentions of past relationships
Requested: Quinn Hughes + Friends to lovers tension explodes into frantic fucking that turns slow and emotional
You and Quinn had a routine. Most nights after practices or games it was just movies on his couch, some random action flick or whatever was on Netflix, legs stretched out, the occasional shared bag of chips, nothing more complicated than that.
Tonight the whiskey had already softened everything by the time you got curious about the cabinet under the TV. You pulled out a box you hadnât noticed before: a glossy poker set with a little black label that said â+18 Edition.â You were too buzzed to read the fine print properly. You just held it up, grinned, and said, âWeâre playing this.â
Quinn raised an eyebrow but didnât stop you, he didn't see the warning so cards got shuffled and bets got dealt.
You lost the first hand. The card you flipped over was blunt:
Take your shirt off.
You blinked at it, laughed, and did it without thinking your shirt landed on the floor. You were left in a thin, pale bra that didnât hide much, pink nipples already visible through the fabric, tightening under the cool air and the sudden weight of Quinnâs eyes on you.
âYouâre a fucking cheater, Hughes,â you muttered as the next hands went the same way. Pants. Socks. His shirt. The air between you kept getting thicker.
When you finally lost your bra, you hesitated for half a second before unhooking it. The straps slid down, the cups fell away, and your bare breasts were suddenly out in the open, soft and flushed from the alcohol.
Quinnâs voice came out low ââŠCan I touch them?â
You froze, friends, you were supposed to be just friends. The rational part of your brain still knew that, even through the whiskey haze.
You stared at him for a long second, heart hammering, then shook your head once, small, uncertain âI⊠I donât know. Weâre friends, Quinn.â
He didnât push. He just waited, eyes dark, hand resting on his own thigh like he was forcing himself not to reach for you. The silence stretched. Your pulse was loud in your ears.
Then, almost against your better judgment, you swayed a little closer, the curve of your ass on display as you stepped between his knees. âJust⊠careful, IÂŽm a bit sensitiveâ you whispered.
His hands came up slowly. Warm palms cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over the pink nipples. You bit your lip hard, trying not to react, but the second he leaned in and closed his mouth around one nippleâhot, wet, tongue flickingâyou sucked in a sharp breath.
One of his hands slid lower, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. Two fingers found your pussy already slick and started rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit.
Your knees almost buckled âQuinnââ you started, voice shaky, but the protest died when he sucked harder and pressed his fingers a little deeper.
The dual sensation made your head spin. You were so wet it was almost embarrassing, and the five-month dry spell wasnât helping. Every stroke of his fingers made the ache worse.
He pulled off your nipple with a soft wet sound, looking up at you with that same crooked, half-drunk smile, that smile was all the excuse your whiskey-soaked brain needed.
You dropped to your knees between his legs as repayment, tugging his boxers down the rest of the way. His cock sprang freeâalready hard, thick, the head glistening.
You didnât hesitate this time. You wrapped your mouth around the shaft, sucking hard while your tongue flicked over the sensitive ridge just beneath the head.
A low groan escaped him, his hips jerking forward as he tried to thrust deeper âWhat⊠what are you doing?â he breathed, voice husky from the alcohol and the sudden surge of pleasure.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes half-lidded, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. âJust relaxing you,â you replied, voice raspy from the drink and the effort. âRepayment.â You dove back in, taking him deeper this time, feeling the back of your throat stretch around his girth.
His hands found your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he guided your movements, not forcing but encouraging. Each time you pulled off, a string of saliva glistened between your lips and his tip, catching the dim light from the lamp overhead.
You licked a slow, deliberate stripe from base to tip, then sucked the head hard, cheeks hollowing.
Quinnâs breath hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly. âFuck⊠youâre good at this,â he muttered, a grin spreading despite his dazed state. He bucked his hips slightly, pushing a little more of his length into your mouth.
You accommodated, relaxing your jaw and letting him slide in until you felt the tip kiss the back of your throat. A gag reflex fluttered, but you swallowed it down, focusing on the rhythmâsuck, pull, swirl, repeat.
The room smelled of cheap whiskey and sweat, the cards forgotten on the table, scattered like discarded clothes. Your underwear clung damp to your skin from the way his fingers had worked you.
Quinnâs boxers lay in a heap beside him, his erection standing proud and flushed, veins standing out like tiny rivers.
You slipped a hand down to his balls, rolling them gently between your fingers while you continued to suck. His moan grew louder, a guttural sound that vibrated through his cock and into your mouth.
You could feel the tension building, the precum leaking faster, coating your tongue with a salty tang.
âAlmost⊠there,â he warned, voice trembling. You intensified your suction, cheeks hollowing, tongue pressing firmly against the underside of his shaft as you bobbed your head faster. His hips began to thrust in short, urgent bursts, matching the pace of your mouth.
With a final, deep groan, Quinn came, hot spurts filling your mouth. You swallowed greedily, feeling the thick cum slide down your throat, some escaping to drip onto your chin and your bra-less chest.
He shuddered, his grip on your hair loosening as he rode out the aftershocks, his cock twitching softly against your lips.
You pulled back, a strand of semen still connecting your lips to his tip before breaking and landing on his stomach. You licked your lips clean, savoring the taste, and looked up at him with a satisfied smirk.
Quinn reached for you immediately, pulling you up into his lap. The kiss that followed was slow and messy, tongues sliding, tasting himself on your mouth, hands roaming your bare back and the curve of your ass.
You stayed like that for a while, just kissing, breathing each other in, the alcohol and the leftover heat making everything feel floaty and inevitable.
Then the five-month dry spell hit you all at once.
Without warning you pushed him back against the couch, swung a leg over his hips, and sank down onto his still-hard cock in one desperate motion.
The stretch was sharp and perfect.
You hadnât been fucked in so long that the sudden fullness made your whole body jolt. You started riding him hard and fast, no rhythm, no teasing, just raw, needy bouncing, chasing the friction like youâd been starving for it.
âFuckâoh my godââ you gasped, hands braced on his chest, pink nipples bouncing with every movement. Quinnâs eyes went wide for a second, then darkened completely.
His hands locked onto your hips and helped you slam down harder âJesus, baby,â he groaned, thrusting up to meet you. âYouâre so fucking wetâhow long has it been?â
You didnât answer. You just kept riding him like you were trying to make up for every empty night in the last five months, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the apartment. Your orgasm hit fast and messy, walls clamping down around him while you cried out against his mouth.
He followed almost immediately, burying himself deep and flooding you with another thick load while his fingers dug bruises into your thighs.
You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, sweat-slick and shaking.
Quinn brushed a strand of hair from your face, eyes softer now, the whiskey haze thinning enough for the truth to slip out.
âIâve wanted this for months,â he said quietly. âEvery movie night, every time you left and I had to stop myself from asking you to stay. I kept telling myself we were just friends⊠but Iâm done pretending. I want you. Not just like this.â His thumb stroked your cheek. âGo out with me. A real date. Dinner, whatever you want. Let me take you somewhere that isnât my couch and a deck of cards I didnât even know was filthy.â
You stared at him, heart still racing, then nodded âOkay,â you whispered. âIâd like that.â
The relief on his face was almost as good as the orgasms. He kissed you again, slower, deeper, the kind of kiss that felt like a beginning.
When he pulled back his cock was already twitching back to life inside you, still buried and slick with both of you âOne more time,â he murmured against your lips. âBefore we try to be normal about this.â
You smiled, rolled your hips once, and let him flip you onto your back.
This round was slower, deeper, almost careful, his forehead against yours, his voice low and steady as he told you again that he meant it, that heâd been waiting, that he wasnât letting this stay a one-time drunken accident.
You came with his name on your tongue and his body covering yours completely. He followed right after, holding you through it like he never planned on letting go.
______
The next morning sunlight was already spilling across Quinnâs bedroom when you woke up. You were tangled in his sheets, one of his arms heavy around your waist, the other tucked under the pillow.
His body was warm against your back, and you could feel him hard again, pressed against the curve of your ass like his cock had never really gone down.
You shifted slowly, turning in his arms until you were face-to-face. His eyes opened almost immediately, still soft with sleep, and the second he saw you he leaned in and kissed you. Slow. Lazy.
The kind of kiss that didnât ask for anything yet. You stayed like that for a long time, mouths moving against each other, tongues brushing, the morning quiet except for the occasional soft sound when the kiss deepened.
When his hips rolled forward instinctively, the hard length of him sliding against your stomach, he pulled back just enough to look at you.
âI donât want to fuck again,â he murmured, voice still rough from sleep. âNot because I donât want youâJesus, I want youâbut I donât want this to feel like itâs only about sex. Not after last night.â
You studied his face for a second, then smiled and climbed fully on top of him, straddling his hips so your bare pussy rested right against the thick, hot length of his cock.
You braced your hands on either side of his head and leaned down until your noses almost touched âPenetration isnât necessary baby,â you said softly. âBut I still want to keep doing this with you. I know youâre not just playing with me, Quinn. I trust you.â
Something in his expression loosened. He nodded once, hands settling on your waist.
You started moving, slow, deliberate rolls of your hips, dragging your wet folds up and down the underside of his cock, coating him in the slickness that was already gathering between your legs.
He groaned low in his throat, one hand sliding between your bodies so he could rub slow circles over your clit with two fingers while you kept grinding. At the same time you reached down, wrapped your hand around his thick cock and started stroking him in time with the slide of your pussy.
It was quiet, intimate, almost careful. Just the wet sound of your hand on him, the soft drag of your folds against his cock, and the way his fingers worked your clit until your thighs started to shake.
You came first, quietly, biting your lip, hips stuttering as the pleasure rolled through you. He followed a few strokes later, spilling hot over your fingers and across your lower stomach while his other hand tightened on your hip.
You stayed on top of him afterward, both of you breathing hard, the mess between you warm and sticky. You leaned down and kissed him again, slow, lingering while your fingers absently fixed the messy strands of hair falling across his forehead.
When you pulled back just enough to speak, your voice was quieter âI used to get so jealous of the girls you dated,â you admitted, still tracing the lines of his face, still kissing the corner of his mouth between words. âThey got to kiss you whenever they wanted. Touch you. Actually be with you and I just⊠sat there pretending I was fine with only being the friend who watched movies on your couch.â
Quinnâs hands came up immediately, one cupping the back of your neck, the other gently pushing your hair out of your face so he could see you clearly.
He kissed you once, soft and sure, then rested his forehead against yours âYou donât have to think about that anymore,â he said, voice low and steady. âNone of them mattered like this. Youâre the only one I want. Youâre the only one I ever really wanted.â
You stayed quiet for a beat, then a small, teasing smile tugged at your mouth âEllenâs going to be so happy about us actually trying to be together.â
Quinn huffed a soft laugh, thumbs stroking your cheeks âFirst of all,â he said, eyes locked on yours, âIâm not trying to be with you, baby. Iâm all in with you. And second, Momâs going to be insane that I finally came to my senses and decided to be with the person Iâm actually destined to.â
He kissed you again after that, deeper this time, like he was sealing the words in. You stayed tangled together in his bed, the morning light warm on your skin, the leftover mess of last night and this morning still between you, and for the first time it didnât feel complicated at all.
please more of dad!fraser being a total girl dad!!!!
His Girls
pairing: Fraser Minten x female reader
description: Fraser and your daughter have a fun day dull of glittery nails, Disney movies and painting lessons.
TW: Fluff.
masterlist
The first thing you're aware of is the warmth. And the solid arm of Fraser that is wrapped around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. His breathing is a soft, steady rhythm against your neck as he presses a single kiss against the back of your neck.
"Mornin'," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "Wanna stay like this all day."
You laugh softly, turning in his arms to face him. His hair is a mess, his eyes still half-closed, but the smile he gives you is so full of love it makes your chest ache. "As tempting as that is, someone's going to wake up soon and demand pancakes."
He groans, burying his face in your hair. "Fine. But you stay put. I'll handle it."
True to his word, he's out of bed a few minutes later and you can hear the familiar sounds of him moving around the kitchen. The sizzle of bacon, the clink of a whisk against a bowl. It's your favorite soundtrack. You're dozing again when the bedroom door creaks open.
Before joining you back in bed, Fraser tiptoes into your daughters room, his attention immidiately on the small lump under the dinosaur-themed comforter across the room. He kneels by her bed, his voice a soft whisper.
"Good morning, Princess Aurora of the Pancake Kingdom. Your royal breakfast awaits."
A giggle escapes from under the blankets. "I'm not sleeping," a small voice announces.
"Oh really?" Fraser feigns shock. "I thought you were a hibernating bear cub. Should I go get the honey?"
Another giggle, louder this time. "No, Daddy!"
"Then perhaps you'll grace us with your presence?" He pulls the covers back gently and your daughter sits up, her hair a wild halo around her head. Fraser scoops her up, peppering her face with kisses as she squeals with delight. "There's my girl. Let's get you dressed for our royal feast."
He carries her to the changing table, his voice a constant stream of gentle praise as he helps her into a sparkly tulle skirt and a shirt with a glittery unicorn on it. "Look at you! The most beautiful princess in all the land. Mommy's going to be so impressed."
He carries her to your bedroom after picking up the tray of pancakes and settles her between the two of you. "Breakfast is served," he announces proudly.
The three of you eat together, a tangle of limbs and syrupy fingers. Fraser keeps an arm wrapped around you, his thumb stroking your side, while he helps your daughter navigate her pancake with a plastic fork.
Later, as you're getting ready to leave for coffee with friends, Fraser corners you by the front door, pulling you into a proper kiss. "Have fun," he says, his forehead resting against yours. "We'll miss you."
"I'll miss you guys too," you say, smiling. "Try not to spoil her too much."
He grins. "No promises."
Once you're gone, he turns to his little girl. "Alright, boss. What's on the agenda for today?"
Your daughter taps her chin thoughtfully. "Nails."
Fraser nods seriously. "Excellent choice. Though I should warn you, my nail-painting skills might not be up to your professional standards. Your nails are very tiny."
She just smiles mischievously at him. "No, Daddy. I wanna do yours!"
Fraser's heart swells. "Mine? Sure, why not. Show me what you got."
An hour later, he's sitting at the kids' table in the living room, his hand spread out as his daughter meticulously paints each of his nails a different shade of sparkly blue. He's trying to hold still, but he can't stop smiling.
"There," she says, holding up his hand to admire her work. "Done."
"Absolutely perfect," he agrees, admiring his glittery nails. "Now, what's next?"
"Movie!" she declares, running to the TV. "Frozen!"
They settle on the couch, a pile of blankets between them. Fraser knows this movie by heart, could probably recite the entire script from memory. When Do You Wanna Build a Snowman starts, he doesn't hesitate.
He scoops her up, using her small hand as his and they sing together, his deep voice harmonizing with her high, enthusiastic one.
After the movie, your daughter declares it's time for art. Fraser lays out newspaper on the kitchen floor, setting up the watercolor paints and a stack of paper.
"What should we paint today?" he asks.
"A castle!" she says. "And us!"
So they paint. Fraser helps her draw the turrets of the castle, then lets her go wild with the colors. He paints three stick figures in front of the castle, a princess with a crown, a tall man with glittery blue nails and a woman with long hair.
"That's Mommy," she says, pointing to the figure.
"It is," Fraser agrees. "And that's you, the princess. And that's me."
She looks at the painting, then at him, her expression serious. "We're a family."
Fraser's throat tightens. "Yeah, sweetie. We are."
When you get home a few hours later, the house is quiet. You find them in the kitchen, sitting at the table, admiring their artwork. Fraser's nails are still a glittery mess and there's a smudge of blue paint on his cheek.
"Look what we did!" your daughter says, running to show you the painting. "And look at Daddy's nails!"
You take in the sparkly nails, then the painting, then the look of pure pride on your Fraser's face. You can't help but tease him. "Well, well. Look at you, Mr. Manicure. I leave you alone for a few hours and you come back with a whole new look."
He just laughs, pulling you into his arms. "Hey, anything for my girls." He kisses you, a soft, lingering kiss that tastes like home. "I missed you," he murmurs against your lips.
"I missed you too," you say, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. "Looks like you guys had a productive day."
"The most productive," he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at your daughter, who's now proudly showing off her glittery nails to match his. "It was the best day ever."
ellievsbear
amandla
gamechangershow
stormborns
theartofmadeline
titsay
