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luvhughes43 · 8 months

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birthday | quinn hughes

luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

request: can you write an angsty one for quinn where he forgets your birthday because he’s busy with hockey and you fight about it and then you give him the silent treatment the next day and he tries to make it up it up you

note: i changed it a little bit!

word count: 1.2k words

you waited all day with baited breath, wondering when your boyfriend of three years would acknowledge your birthday. usually, depending on both of your work schedules, quinn would take you to your favourite cafe for breakfast and then later in the day he would cook one of your favourite dishes for dinner. In between meals, you’d spend the day doing whatever you wanted, which usually just meant going for a walk and maybe to the mall.

you woke up early and got yourself dressed and ready for the day. quinn was already gone to the gym which wasn’t unusual, so you scrolled through your emails while you waited for him to come home.

quinn didn't come home till noon.

“hey babe,” quinn greeted you quickly, pecking your cheek before he rushed into your shared bedroom. you swivel around on the bar stool you were sitting on, eyes following quinn as he jogged from your bedroom and into the bathroom.

when he reemerged from the room, bag in hand, you frown. “what are you doing?”

“the guys are going to this new place.. some new gym downtown”

“oh,” you deflate, “weren’t you just at the gym tho?”

“yeah but babe, this one has an ice bath!” quinn explains enthusiastically, as if the addition of an ice bath should outweigh the excitement that was your 24th birthday.

“right…”

“we're not working out or anything. just checking the place out. It's good for team building” he adds.

you stare blankly at him, wishing that this is just some elaborate joke and that he has a plan for your birthday.

“right well, i’ll see you later!” quinn flashes a quick smile as he leans down to kiss your cheek again.

“bye…?”

quinny: going out for dinner! so sorry we didn't get to spend any time together today. wanna do dinner tomorrow night?

quinny: the teams really getting on good! I think we’ve got a close group here

it was 6pm, you were alone, and in approximately 10 minutes you would officially be 24. how great is this? you thought sarcastically. you were about to be 24, in a too nice apartment, with a boyfriend who completely forgot about you.

you pulled your cookies out of the oven, dropping the tray on top of the stove with a clatter. tears sprung to your eyes as you pulled out a small pack of glittering candles. you didn't even get an invite to quinns dinner tonight.

you watched your candles go out slowly while you imagine how you should've spent the day. Happy birthday to me…

“hey baby, what did you do all day?” quinn asked as he slipped into bed next to you. his alarm clock had blinded you with the time, 11:24, lit up in a cutting shade of red. he tried to hold your gaze, but you turned over. he had actually forgotten.

quinn grabbed at your shoulder, but you shrugged him off. “I’m tired,” you whispered through the ball in your throat. if quinn talked about his day, you might actually cry.

“what's wrong?” quinn asked, genuinely concerned. he sat up in bed, reaching over and flicking his lamp on.

“I’m not talking about this tonight”

“well, no. if you're going to say something then say it. what did i do wrong this time?” you rolled around to face him just as he finished his sentence with an eyeroll.

“excuse me?” you were seeing red.

“just tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it. did i leave a sock on the floor?” he jokes, quickly surveying the room and noticing that you cleaned earlier.

you sat up in bed. “you're such an asshole! you know that right?”

“woah! no need to get angry! i just wanted to go to bed. Its late.”

“yeah well, i wanted to celebrate my birthday with my boyfriend today so i guess we don't always get what we want, huh?” your voice is venomous as you climb out of bed. you rip your pillow off the bed with every intention to sleep in the guest room.

quinns shocked expression was almost comical. his eyes wide, eyebrows raised, and mouth slightly agape as he finally realized what was bothering you. with how busy his new schedule was due to being captain, he had completely forgotten about you.

“y/n don't go! I’m so sorry!” quinn kicks the comforter away from him as follows you down the hallway.

“I don't want to talk to you right now,”

“baby, please! I swear I didn’t mean to forget-” quinn started but you abruptly cut him off.

“i don't want to hear it! I waited for you all day! I shouldn't have to remind you when my birthday is! We talked about it literally last week!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you!” quinns words fell on deaf ears as you slammed the guest bedroom door in his face.

as soon as the door was locked, you let all your emotions of the day out. your sad uber eats delivery, raw cookies, the moping around… quinn.

quinn stood on the other side of the door, face in between his hands as he listened to you cry.

the next morning, quinn was on good boyfriend behaviour. he had bought you a bouquet of your favourite flowers, made you breakfast, and had a birthday card waiting at the table for you.

you rubbed at your eyes tiredly as you made your way into the kitchen. you had gotten absolutely no sleep last night, and you were still upset at quinn.

quinn watched you in silence as he set the last piece of french toast in his pan. you glanced up at him before averting your gaze towards your gifts.

To Y/n,

Happy 24th Birthday. I love you beyond words.

Quinn

“Quinn,” you sighed as you set the card back on the table.

“It’s a shitty card I know,” you can’t help the small smile that graces your lips . “I’m so sorry. I called in sick today.. we can do something or you can do whatever, its up to you! I just really want you to know that i’m sorry” he sets the fresh piece of french toast onto a plate before sliding it over to you.

“I know you're sorry,” you say, stepping over and into quinns open arms. you stand there for a minute, quinn softly rubbing your back while you lay your head on his shoulder. “I just felt really awful”

quinn hums to acknowledge what you were saying. “I know. I don't know what was wrong with me”

“you have new responsibilities q. you're going to be busy with the team” you put his thoughts into words and it was his time to sigh.

“Still. There’s no excuse” quinn hugs you tighter. “I love you”

“I love you too” you whisper into the side of his neck, arms tightening around him.

It wasn't okay that he had forgotten, but at least he was making an effort to fix it.

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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heartsandhischier · 2 months

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In the past

nico hischier x reader

summary - 2k words. attending a new years party you encounter something you thought to be of the past

author's note - first time trying to write angst i guess. daydreaming about meeting nico whilst hiking in the alps

warnings - mentions of alcohol

You delicately adjusted the shimmering black fabric of your dress, the soft material clinging to your form in a flattering embrace. This new year’s eve held a special significance – it marked your first celebration in New Jersey since your recent relocation for work. Malia, your colleague who quickly became your best friend, had extended a heartfelt invitation to join her at a New Year’s party. From the moment you stepped foot into the office, her welcoming embrace had dissolved any apprehension you felt about starting anew.

Tonight’s festivities were hosted by Malia’s boyfriend, John, and his teammates. You were excited. Anticipation bubbled within you at the opportunity to meet new people and make friends in your new state.

As you assessed the final touches to your outfit in the mirror, a gentle knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. Malia’s voice filtered through the room, “Hey you ready soon?” Her eyes lit up as they landed on your outfit, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Oh my, you look gorgeous Y/N!” she exclaimed. Blushing at her compliment, you gave her a playful twirl showcasing your outfit.

The streetlights flickered past in a blur as you drove down the streets of New Jersey. Your mind was completely distracted, you weren’t sure why, maybe nerves? After all, the idea of meeting an entire hockey team, not to mention the state’s hockey team the New Jersey Devils, would be enough to make anyone’s palms sweat. You didn’t follow the sport, and you sure as hell didn’t know anything about the players for that matter.

Lost in your own thoughts, you were jolted back to reality by John’s voice echoing from the front seat. “Wha-what?” you stammered, momentarily disoriented by the interruption.

His tone tinged with amusement, John repeated his question, “Are you nervous?”

A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you attempted to compose yourself. “Um, maybe a little,” you admitted, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Malia couldn’t help but chuckle at your response, turning in her seat to meet your gaze, mischief dancing in her eyes. “You know,” she teased, “there’s going to be a lot of cute guys there.” John giving her a light, playful punch at her comment.

Rolling her eyes, Malia playfully retorted, “For her! Not for me. You know I think you’re the cutest,” her words dripping with a teasing tone as se affectionaly stroked his arm. You couldn’t resist and playfully mock barfed at their affectionate banter.

John chuckled at your reaction, his laughter reflected in the rearview mirror as he glanced back at you. “What if you hit it off with one of John’s teammates?!” Malia suggested excitedly, “We could go on double dates!”

Despite your initial nerves, the idea of meeting someone new held a glimmer of excitement. Maybe just maybe, this New year’s eve held unexpected encounters.

“Johnny!” a boy with curly hair, his face alive with excitement, swung open the door to greet you. He must have been a few years younger, though he was charming, no doubt. Stepping aside, he ushered you into the bustling penthouse, where the party was already in full swing. Laughter filled the air, mingling with the upbeat rhythm of music. As you crossed the threshold, you were greeted by a breathtaking panoramic view of the sparkling cityscape.

The spacious penthouse was adorned in elegant, sparkling decor. From every corner, the room buzzed with energy as guests mingled and chatted animatedly. A group of women, likely the wives and girlfriends of the players, greeted you warmly, their arms open wide in welcome.

Malia appeared at your side, a grin spreading across her face as she surveyed the scene. “Isn’t this place incredible?” she remarked, her voice filled with awe. “The Devils really knows how to throw a party.”

The party unfolded in a whirlwind of excitement, you found yourself immersed in the lively atmosphere, mingling with new friends. The energy of the gathering filled you with a sense of belonging.

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, a subtle shift in the air caught your attention. You could feel a pair of eyes lingering on you, their gaze weighing heavy on your skin. With a sense of curiosity, you scanned the room, searching for the source of the gaze.

Amidst the swirling sea of people,

You could feel a pair of eyes lingering on you. You perched up, scanning the room in search of the source of the gaze. Amidst the throng of people, a pair of big brown eyes locked onto yours, their gaze held a hint of sadness. He looked familiar, but through your drunken haze you couldn’t place where you had encountered him before.

The suggestion of shots from one of the girls snapped you out of your thoughts, prompting you to join the lively atmosphere by taking a shot with them. Despite the momentary distraction, you couldn’t shake off the curiosity surrounding the stranger whose gaze lingered on you. As you laughed and engaged in conversation with the group, the stranger remained a constant presence in your thoughts.

Those familiar eyes, the flowing brown hair, and the beard. It couldn’t be.

“Do you need any help with that?” a voice thick with an accent greeted you as you struggled to close the back of the car, your hands weighed down by the heavy bags. Turning, you met the gaze of a stranger with beautiful brown eyes, his brown locks hidden beneath a snapback. A warm smile graced his lips as he reached out to relieve some of the weight from your shoulders.

Together, you and the stranger made your way to the rented little cabin, a cozy retreat overlooking the breathtaking views of the Swiss Apls. With a soft thud, you droppe the bags onto the floor, turning to face him. “Actually, do you know any good hikes, preferably one where i can take a swim as well?” you asked.

The stranger’s smile widened, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement. “Actually, I was thinking of doing a hike like that tomorrow. You want to join?”

One hike turned into days in each others company. Amidst the backdrop of the swiss alps, you found yourselves seated next to each other at a cozy outdoor restaurant, the crisp mountain air filling your embracing you.

“Y’know,” he bagan, his voice soft and laced with that comforting, beautiful accent, “I never imagined I’d meet someone like you while backpacking through my own country.”

You chuckled at his words, tracing the rim of your wine glass with your fingertips. “And I never expected to find myself falling for a local,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

He paused, his expression softening as he reached for your hand. “I think I’m in love with you,” he confessed, his gaze locking with yours. Cupping your face in his hands, he leaned forward, pressing a loving kiss to your lips.

As the chaos of the party faded into the background, your breath caught in your chest, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. Your mind was clouded, your heartbeat rising, you navigated through the crowded room. Finally reaching the terrace, you swung the door open, greeted by the cool night air, soothing your troubled mind.

Nico. The mere mention of his name brought back bittersweet memories of your time together during your solo backpacking trip to Switzerland. He was everything you had ever dreamed of – affectionate, loving, and endlessly funny. In his presence, you felt comfortable, loved and at peace. You were in love with him. However, your romance was cut short as you had to leave to go back to the states. The pain lingered like a shadow, buried deep within the recesses of your heart, too raw to confront, too profound to forget.

“Y/N?” there is was, that accent, the voice that made you weak in the knees. You hastily wiped away the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes with the sleeve of your dress. Turning around, there he was. He was right there, in front of you, dressed in a sleek black suit, his soft brown eyes filled with sadness that mirrored your own. “What are you doing here,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

He scratched the back of his neck, struggling to find the right words. “I… this is… my teams new years party… and…” He stammered, his voice faltering.

“I meant here. In the states.” you interrupted, your voice tinged with a mixture of pain and longing.

When you had boarded that plane, you were certain it marked the end of your story together, convinced that you had to bury it in the depths of your heart to move on. Yet here he stood before you, a living, breathing reminder of a past you tried so hard to leave behind. The question echoed in your mind like a relentless drumbeat: why didn’t he tell you?

“I…” his voice wavered as he began, his fingers fiddling nervously. “I am the captain for the New Jersey Devils,” he confessed, his words hanging heavily in the air.

Shock coursed through you at the revelation. He had been in the States all this time, and yet he never once mentioned it to you. He never told you, never even mentioned it as you stepped into the airport. Anger and hurt welled up inside you as you struggled to comprehend why he had kept this from you.

“Why did you lie?” the accusation laced with pain.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He stood before you, speechless, his gaze filled with a mixture of regret and remorse, unable to find the words to explain his silence.

“I,” he sighed, his voice heavy with remorse. “You were so excited about your job in Seattle, I didn’t want to distract you, making you fly back and forth to meet me all the time.”

You huffed in frustration at his explanation, crossing you arms over your chest. While you understood his reasoning, you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. For him, for the two of you. You believed that together, you could have figured it out, if he only told you. He said he loved you for crying out loud.

“We could have figured it out, Nico. If only you told me,” you said, sadness lacing your voice.

“I… I know. I regretted it the moment you left,” he said.

He stepped closer, his presence now towering over you, the distance between you filled with a sense of regret, heartbreak, and unspoken words. Despite the tension that hung heavy in the air, you found yourself gazing up at him, the same familiar comfort of his brown eyes enveloping you in a bittersweet embrace.

“You look different,” you finally broke the suffocating silence.

“You look the same, Y/N. Beautiful,” he replied softly, his hands gently tucked into the pockets of his dress pants.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, neither of you able to find the right words to break the tension.

“I was in love with you,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, the weight of your admission hanging heavily in the air.

He let out a sad sigh, his hand rising to gently stroke your cheek. Your face instinctively melting into his touch. So familiar, so comfortable. So, safe.

“I am still in love with you, Y/N.”

In the stillness of the moment, his words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking into your heart. You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation, finding only sincerity and a familiar longing mirrored in his gaze.

As the clock struck midnight, the world seemed to hold its breath, the anticipation thick in the air. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, you leaned in, your lips meeting in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of unspoken promises and second chances.

Pulling back ever so slightly, Nico looked at you with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, "Will you give us another chance?"

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier smut #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier #nh13 #nico hischier x you #nic hischier x y/n #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #new jersey devils #njd #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils imagine #new jersey devils x reader #nico hishcier fanfiction

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wyattjohnston · 1 year

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The Results Are In!

102 people took the time to complete this survey and while a larger sample size would have been ideal, I am eternally grateful to those who took the time to fill it in. I acknowledge that it was very long and I'll be cutting questions if I do this again.

Before we go any further this is not a list of instructions on what you absolutely must write. Your own creativity, inspiration and goals come before anything somebody else may want. At the end of the day, this is primarily a collection of data that fascinates me.

You will find that there are things you do that some readers have said they do not like to see. If that is going to upset you, make you spiral, or otherwise reduce your creative output then please leave. Nobody is forcing you to read these results.

Style Preferences

The Importance Of...

Rates These Tropes/Themes

Main Character

Player/Team Preferences

Engagement (currently incomplete)

Fic Finding

What do you want to see more of in general?

Is there anything you would like to see less of?

Feel the Love

These are the unedited compliments.

What do you want to see more of in general?

I’m happy with anything

already love everything!

I'm just happy to consume what's being put out.

Not helpful, sorry, but there is nothing I’d like to see more of because what’s out there is already a great mix of my faves

Nothing in particular I feel like there is a good mix of everything that I like I’m not very picky when it comes to things like that! :)

writers creating their content freely and experimenting with different styles and tropes

whatever writers want to write!

Authors writing for players they enjoy because it truly makes a difference in their writing.

Is there anything you would like to see less of?

I think writers should write whatever they feel like 😊❤️

No, never, fanfic is free and to be explored at all times. A theme is never overdone as it’s done differently each time

If something doesn’t interest me I scroll on by. I wouldn’t want to remove things other people might enjoy even if I don’t

not much im quite happy with what ive read/interacted with on tumblr

This is one of the biggest things I’d like to see change. Writers should be proud of what they create.

Just i'd like to see less of authors selling their own art, that they personally created and spend so much time on, short

Like sentences like "it's so bad/probably not good/don't think anyone will like it" cause them i'm gonna read it thinking "oh, okay, it's probably not good" and then i read it a lot more critical than i would have otherwise cause i always think that if the author themself says it, doesn't it have to be true? And usually if i would have just read the fic without this first i would have absolutely loved it but now i just feel a little conflicted (and might still love it, but it's just not the same)

It's just sad to see and i'd like to give every creator who does this a big hug <3

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #readers survey #writing tips

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icedbatik · 2 months

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I saw this opinion piece in the New York Times and, while I don't normally copy and paste entire newspaper articles, this is an excellent (if scary) read.

Aside from the sections on how much lack of consent there is in today's sexual landscape, hockey fans -- who should be well aware of the dangers of concussions -- might take particular note of the section in which "choking" during sex is linked to brain damage on par with concussion damage.

The Troubling Trend in Teenage Sex

April 12, 2024

By Peggy Orenstein

Debby Herbenick is one of the foremost researchers on American sexual behavior. The director of the Center for Sexual Health Promotion at Indiana University and the author of the pointedly titled book “Yes, Your Kid,” she usually shares her data, no matter how explicit, without judgment. So I was surprised by how concerned she seemed when we checked in on Zoom recently: “I haven’t often felt so strongly about getting research out there,” she told me. “But this is lifesaving.”

For the past four years, Dr. Herbenick has been tracking the rapid rise of “rough sex” among college students, particularly sexual strangulation, or what is colloquially referred to as choking. Nearly two-thirds of women in her most recent campus-representative survey of 5,000 students at an anonymized “major Midwestern university” said a partner had choked them during sex (one-third in their most recent encounter). The rate of those women who said they were between the ages 12 and 17 the first time that happened had shot up to 40 percent from one in four.

As someone who’s been writing for well over a decade about young people’s attitudes and early experience with sex in all its forms, I’d also begun clocking this phenomenon. I was initially startled in early 2020 when, during a post-talk Q. and A. at an independent high school, a 16-year-old girl asked, “How come boys all want to choke you?” In a different class, a 15-year-old boy wanted to know, “Why do girls all want to be choked?” They do? Not long after, a college sophomore (and longtime interview subject) contacted me after her roommate came home in tears because a hookup partner, without warning, had put both hands on her throat and squeezed.

I started to ask more, and the stories piled up. Another sophomore confided that she enjoyed being choked by her boyfriend, though it was important for a partner to be “properly educated” — pressing on the sides of the neck, for example, rather than the trachea. (Note: There is no safe way to strangle someone.) A male freshman said “girls expected” to be choked and, even though he didn’t want to do it, refusing would make him seem like a “simp.” And a senior in high school was angry that her friends called her “vanilla” when she complained that her boyfriend had choked her.

Sexual strangulation, nearly always of women in heterosexual pornography, has long been a staple on free sites, those default sources of sex ed for teens. As with anything else, repeat exposure can render the once appalling appealing. It’s not uncommon for behaviors to be normalized in porn, move within a few years to mainstream media, then, in what may become a feedback loop, be adopted in the bedroom or the dorm room.

Choking, Dr. Herbenick said, seems to have made that first leap in a 2008 episode of Showtime’s “Californication,” where it was still depicted as outré, then accelerated after the success of “Fifty Shades of Grey.” By 2019, when a high school girl was choked in the pilot of HBO’s “Euphoria,” it was standard fare. A young woman was choked in the opener of “The Idol” (again on HBO and also, like “Euphoria,” created by Sam Levinson; what’s with him?). Ali Wong plays the proclivity for laughs in a Netflix special, and it’s a punchline in Tina Fey’s new “Mean Girls.” The chorus of Jack Harlow’s “Lovin On Me,” which topped Billboard’s Hot 100 chart for six nonconsecutive weeks this winter and has been viewed over 99 million times on YouTube, starts with, “I’m vanilla, baby, I’ll choke you, but I ain’t no killer, baby.” How-to articles abound on the internet, and social media algorithms feed young people (but typically not their unsuspecting parents) hundreds of #chokemedaddy memes along with memes that mock — even celebrate — the potential for hurting or killing female partners.

I’m not here to kink-shame (or anything-shame). And, anyway, many experienced BDSM practitioners discourage choking, believing it to be too dangerous. There are still relatively few studies on the subject, and most have been done by Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues. Reports among adolescents are now trickling out from the United Kingdom, Australia, Iceland, New Zealand and Italy.

Twenty years ago, sexual asphyxiation appears to have been unusual among any demographic, let alone young people who were new to sex and iffy at communication. That’s changed radically in a short time, with health consequences that parents, educators, medical professionals, sexual consent advocates and teens themselves urgently need to understand.

Sexual trends can spread quickly on campus and, to an extent, in every direction. But, at least among straight kids, I’ve sometimes noticed a pattern: Those that involve basic physical gratification — like receiving oral sex in hookups — tend to favor men. Those that might entail pain or submission, like choking, are generally more for women.

So, while undergrads of all genders and sexualities in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys report both choking and being choked, straight and bisexual young women are far more likely to have been the subjects of the behavior; the gap widens with greater occurrences. (In a separate study, Dr. Herbenick and her colleagues found the behavior repeated across the United States, particularly for adults under 40, and not just among college students.) Alcohol may well be involved, and while the act is often engaged in with a steady partner, a quarter of young women said partners they’d had sex with on the day they’d met also choked them.

Either way, most say that their partners never or only sometimes asked before grabbing their necks. For many, there had been moments when they couldn’t breathe or speak, compromising the ability to withdraw consent, if they’d given it. No wonder that, in a separate study by Dr. Herbenick, choking was among the most frequently listed sex acts young women said had scared them, reporting that it sometimes made them worry whether they’d survive.

Among girls and women I’ve spoken with, many did not want or like to be sexually strangled, though in an otherwise desired encounter they didn’t name it as assault. Still, a sizable number were enthusiastic; they requested it. It is exciting to feel so vulnerable, a college junior explained. The power dynamic turns her on; oxygen deprivation to the brain can trigger euphoria.

That same young woman, incidentally, had never climaxed with a partner: While the prevalence of choking has skyrocketed, rates of orgasm among young women have not increased, nor has the “orgasm gap” disappeared among heterosexual couples. “It indicates they’re not doing other things to enhance female arousal or pleasure,” Dr. Herbenick said.

When, for instance, she asked one male student who said he choked his partner whether he’d ever tried using a vibrator instead, he recoiled. “Why would I do that?” he asked.

Perhaps, she responded, because it would be more likely to produce orgasm without risking, you know, death.

In my interviews, college students have seen male orgasm as a given; women’s is nice if it happens, but certainly not expected or necessarily prioritized (by either partner). It makes sense, then, that fulfillment would be less the motivator for choking than appearing adventurous or kinky. Such performances don’t always feel good.

“Personally, my hypothesis is that this is one of the reasons young people are delaying or having less sex,” Dr. Herbenick said. “Because it’s uncomfortable and weird and scary. At times some of them literally think someone is assaulting them but they don’t know. Those are the only sexual experiences for some people. And it’s not just once they’ve gotten naked. They’ll say things like, ‘I’ve only tried to make out with someone once because he started choking and hitting me.’”

Keisuke Kawata, a neuroscientist at Indiana University’s School of Public Health, was one of the first researchers to sound the alarm on how the cumulative, seemingly inconsequential, sub-concussive hits football players sustain (as opposed to the occasional hard blow) were key to triggering C.T.E., the degenerative brain disease. He’s a good judge of serious threats to the brain. In response to Dr. Herbenick’s work, he’s turning his attention to sexual strangulation. “I see a similarity” to C.T.E., he told me, “though the mechanism of injury is very different.” In this case, it is oxygen-blocking pressure to the throat, frequently in light, repeated bursts of a few seconds each.

Strangulation — sexual or otherwise — often leaves few visible marks and can be easily overlooked as a cause of death. Those whose experiences are nonlethal rarely seek medical attention, because any injuries seem minor: Young women Dr. Herbenick studied mostly reported lightheadedness, headaches, neck pain, temporary loss of coordination and ear ringing. The symptoms resolve, and all seems well. But, as with those N.F.L. players, the true effects are silent, potentially not showing up for days, weeks, even years.

According to the American Academy of Neurology, restricting blood flow to the brain, even briefly, can cause permanent injury, including stroke and cognitive impairment. In M.R.I.s conducted by Dr. Kawata and his colleagues (including Dr. Herbenick, who is a co-author of his papers on strangulation), undergraduate women who have been repeatedly choked show a reduction in cortical folding in the brain compared with a never-choked control group. They also showed widespread cortical thickening, an inflammation response that is associated with elevated risk of later-onset mental illness. In completing simple memory tasks, their brains had to work far harder than the control group, recruiting from more regions to achieve the same level of accuracy.

The hemispheres in the choked group’s brains, too, were badly skewed, with the right side hyperactive and the left underperforming. A similar imbalance is associated with mood disorders — and indeed in Dr. Herbenick’s surveys girls and women who had been choked were more likely than others (or choked men) to have experienced overwhelming anxiety, as well as sadness and loneliness, with the effect more pronounced as the incidence rose: Women who had experienced more than five instances of choking were two and a half times as likely as those who had never been choked to say they had been so depressed within the previous 30 days they couldn’t function. Whether girls and women with mental health challenges are more likely to seek out (or be subjected to) choking, choking causes mood disorders, or some combination of the two is still unclear. But hypoxia, or oxygen deprivation — judging by what research has shown about other types of traumatic brain injury — could be a contributing factor. Given the soaring rates of depression and anxiety among young women, that warrants concern.

Now consider that every year Dr. Herbenick has done her survey, the number of females reporting extreme effects from strangulation (neck swelling, loss of consciousness, losing control of urinary function) has crept up. Among those who’ve been choked, the rate of becoming what students call “cloudy” — close to passing out, but not crossing the line — is now one in five, a huge proportion. All of this indicates partners are pressing on necks longer and harder.

The physical, cognitive and psychological impacts of sexual choking are disturbing. So is the idea that at a time when women’s social, economic, educational and political power are in ascent (even if some of those rights may be in jeopardy), when #MeToo has made progress against harassment and assault, there has been the popularization of a sex act that can damage our brains, impair intellectual functioning, undermine mental health, even kill us. Nonfatal strangulation, one of the most significant indicators that a man will murder his female partner (strangulation is also one of the most common methods used for doing so), has somehow been eroticized and made consensual, at least consensual enough. Yet, the outcomes are largely the same: Women’s brains and bodies don’t distinguish whether they are being harmed out of hate or out of love.

By now I’m guessing that parents are curled under their chairs in a fetal position. Or perhaps thinking, “No, not my kid!” (see: title of Dr. Herbenick’s book above, which, by the way, contains an entire chapter on how to talk to your teen about “rough sex”).

I get it. It’s scary stuff. Dr. Herbenick is worried; I am, too. And we are hardly some anti-sex, wait-till-marriage crusaders. But I don’t think our only option is to wring our hands over what young people are doing.

Parents should take a beat and consider how they might give their children relevant information in a way that they can hear it. Maybe reiterate that they want them to have a pleasurable sex life — you have already said that, right? — and also want them to be safe. Tell them that misinformation about certain practices, including choking, is rampant, that in reality it has grave health consequences. Plus, whether or not a partner initially requested it, if things go wrong, you’re generally criminally on the hook.

Dr. Herbenick suggests reminding them that there are other, lower-risk ways to be exploratory or adventurous if that is what they are after, but it would be wisest to delay any “rough sex” until they are older and more skilled at communicating. She offers language when negotiating with a new partner, such as, “By the way, I’m not comfortable with” — choking, or other escalating behaviors such as name-calling, spitting and genital slapping — “so please don’t do it/don’t ask me to do it to you.” They could also add what they are into and want to do together.

I’d like to point high school health teachers to evidence-based porn literacy curricula, but I realize that incorporating such lessons into their classrooms could cost them their jobs. Shafia Zaloom, a lecturer at the Harvard Graduate School of Education, recommends, if that’s the case, grounding discussions in mainstream and social media. There are plenty of opportunities. “You can use it to deconstruct gender norms, power dynamics in relationships, ‘performative’ trends that don’t represent most people’s healthy behaviors,” she said, “especially depictions of people putting pressure on someone’s neck or chest.”

I also know that pediatricians, like other adults, struggle when talking to adolescents about sex (the typical conversation, if it happens, lasts 40 seconds). Then again, they already caution younger children to use a helmet when they ride a bike (because heads and necks are delicate!); they can mention that teens might hear about things people do in sexual situations, including choking, then explain the impact on brain health and why such behavior is best avoided. They should emphasize that if, for any reason — a fall, a sports mishap or anything else — a young person develops symptoms of head trauma, they should come in immediately, no judgment, for help in healing.

The role and responsibility of the entertainment industry is a tangled knot: Media reflects behavior but also drives it, either expanding possibilities or increasing risks. There is precedent for accountability. The European Union now requires age verification on the world’s largest porn sites (in ways that preserve user privacy, whatever that means on the internet); that discussion, unsurprisingly, had been politicized here. Social media platforms have already been pushed to ban content promoting eating disorders, self-harm and suicide — they should likewise be pressured to ban content promoting choking. Traditional formats can stop glamorizing strangulation, making light of it, spreading false information, using it to signal female characters’ complexity or sexual awakening. Young people’s sexual scripts are shaped by what they watch, scroll by and listen to — unprecedentedly so. They deserve, and desperately need, models of interactions that are respectful, communicative, mutual and, at the very least, safe.

Peggy Orenstein is the author of “Boys & Sex: Young Men on Hookups, Love, Porn, Consent and Navigating the New Masculinity” and “Girls & Sex: Navigating the Complicated New Landscape.”

#off-theme #and long #but worth the read

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jadewritesficshere · 1 year

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Happy Birthday

Steve Harrington x female!reader

Summary: Steve gets a video from you for his birthday.

Warnings: masturbation (male and female), f masturbation on video, pet name (baby), no use of y/n

18+ only

Steve sighed contentedly as he flopped onto the couch. He propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. He surveyed the destruction across his living room and smiled. Balloons were strewn about, streamers falling off the walls, and random cups that had been forgotten. Robin had thrown a surprise party, and though part of him thought he was too old for a party being in his 20s, he couldn't help but feel elated. Cherished even.

He glanced at the pile of gifts he had received. Eddie had gotten him an album, Nancy had given him more clothes in yellow, and Robin had gotten him tickets to a hockey game. You had given him three movies: one was a favorite of his, the other a new release he had wanted to watch, and then a home movie. You had asked him to watch it alone, claiming it was too embarrassing to show everyone and that you had been emotional in it. You made him promise, and Steve tried not to break his promises.

Steve hoped you were emotional because you confessed you liked him. Steve and you had a flirty relationship, but neither of you had "officially" said anything. One drunken make out session kiss was enough to fuel his fantasies for months, a kiss that you didn't seem to remember. Steve wasn't sure if he should bring it up, afraid of rejection. He wondered if you were silent for the same reason, or if you didn't even remember.

However, you could be emotional because one of the times you had your camera, you had found a stray dog. Both you and Robin were bawling about how the dog had been abandoned, leaving him as he wrestled with the dog from hell. Steve cursed that stupid rat dog, he would even curse the breed if he knew it, as it had scratched him relentlessly. Giving the dog a bath was funny in retrospect, but at the time Steve was fuming over this dog soaking both him and Robin and causing Robin to somehow fall into the tub, yanking Steve down with it. Of course, you were recording the whole time. The only good part was hearing your laugh.

Or maybe it was the time everyone had went to the lake. A seagull, which made no sense to Steve as it was the lake and not the sea, had stolen Eddie's sandwich. Eddie had taken off chasing the bird, yelling and cursing the whole way. Steve remembered laughing so hard he was crying, and he remembered the way your face had beamed at him. The way you pushed the hair out of his eyes.

Or it could be the party where everyone had gotten drunk, except for him. Sure, he had done a few keg stands in his days, but he wanted someone to be sober to take care of you. You had been rambling about something before stopping and calling him "pretty". He had blushed and tried to deny it, somehow making you think that he didn't find himself pretty. You had started trying to convince him, getting more sad that he felt bad about himself. Which Steve didn't feel bad about himself, but he wasn't going to complain as you gave him compliment after compliment. You even wrapped your arms around him and cuddled him. You were so warm in his embrace. How he wanted to embrace you in other ways.

Steve snapped the VHS case open and stared at the tape. He was alone now and his mind was going crazy with what ifs. He probably was overthinking it. He popped the VHS in the player and grabbed the remote before sitting back on the couch. He hit the power on and-

Steve's eyes widened and he dropped the remote. He wasn't sure what he was expecting but seeing your chest in red lacy lingerie was not it. The swells of your breasts pushed up slightly. He wanted to kiss and suck at your chest. Red lace contrasting against your skin. Your chest moving up and down as you breathed. Your hand comes into view and gently grasps your breast, squeezing it. Steve wished it was his hand.

Steve inhaled deeply and his hand shook. Holy. Fuck. His jeans were unbearably tight as he watched you slowly remove the bra. Your nipples were hardened-God, how he wanted to lick and tease them. You pinched one and let out a moan. Steve wanted to make you moan like that, but just hearing you? He was harder than he ever had been in his life. You sounded sweeter then anything he could imagine. You sounded like an angel, and he was in Heaven.

Steve unbuttoned his jeans and peeled them down enough for his cock to bob up and hit his navel. He was already leaking. He spit in his hand and wrapped it around his hardened length. He focused back on you and-

Steve moaned. You had moved the camera down to the red lacy panties you were wearing. "See that Baby?" You were out of breath, barely speaking above a whisper as you traced a finger over your clothed pussy. A damp spot was noticeable in the fabric and you sighed as your finger traced over the spot," See how wet I am for you, Baby?"

Steve's eyes closed instinctively before he snapped them open. He didn't want to miss a second of this. Steve's hips bucked into his hand as he stroked up and down his dick. On screen, you removed your panties, and his mouth watered. Steve bit his lip as he got a clear view of your pussy. You were so wet; he wanted to lick every drop. He wanted to taste your arousal. He wanted to hear you scream and writhe against his tongue as you came. He wanted his face covered in your release.

Your fingers on screen played with your clit before circling your weeping hole. One of your fingers easily slid in due to how wet you were. Steve moaned at the site of you adding another finger and pumping in and out. You moaned and ground against your hand. You added another finger and Steve couldn't help but think of how small your hands were and that it wouldn't even prepare you for his dick. As you picked up your pace and started to buck your hips wildly, Steve sped up to be at the same pace as you. He imagined that it was his cock spreading you open. How wet you would be. How warm. How tight. Your mouth dropping open in pleasure, your whimpers under him (or over him he wasn't picky).

"Steve!" You let out a gasp and moaned on screen, fingers getting drenched by your release. "Oh fuck shit fuck," Steve rasped out in between whines as he came all over his hand. His chest was heaving. Brain foggy from pleasure. His hair was stuck to his forehead from sweat. Steve sighed as he grabbed a napkin off the table and cleaned his hand, rubbing at the hem of his shirt that had gotten dirty. He looked back up on the screen to see your smirk. "Call me Stevie, next time you could do this to me yourself." The screen went black as you covered it with your hand. He could faintly hear,"Oh God what did I just do fuck ok this is fine, he'll like it right?" It took Steve all of two seconds to jump up and grab his car keys to head to you. Oh he definitely liked it. Fuck calling you though. The only calling that would be happening tonight was you calling his name.

#Not me having a part two already been started #Listen yall Steve deserves a great birthday first off cause I know his parents never really cared #But secondly that man deserves to be wined dined and fucked #Anyways uh have this #Is this self indulgent? Bro you telling me you don't want Steve to get off to the thought of you 🤨#Anywho keep an eye out for part 2 i guess uh its gonna be awhile #But I got the start of it but uh I have like 6 other WIPs rn so #Steve Harrington smut #Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #Steve Harrington x female!reader #Steve Harrington/female!reader #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington/you #Stranger Things fic #Jade is Talking

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lovings4turn · 4 months

Text

୭ 🗝️ ✧ ˚. 🪩 you’re my painkiller . . . (j.s.)

— your boyfriend apparently has zero regard for his own wellbeing. you, on the other hand, seem to have enough concern for you both (1.6k words)

+ aka the classic ‘patching up your injured s/o’ trope. brief mentions of injury and blood but nothing serious

+ also my first time writing any sort of nhl work so pls don’t be too too harsh ! a special shoutout to my lovely @wintfleur for all of the support and for listening to my various ramblings n complaints about this fic😭

juraj regrets nothing.

even now, sitting in the penalty box with a bust lip, he couldn’t care less. not about the player that he was swinging at two seconds ago, nor about how well the small cut on his face is going to heal. shit happens, after all.

though, no.

maybe there’s one small thought gnawing away at him, sitting persistent at the front of his brain and demanding his attention. it’s the knowledge that you’re sitting at home and have definitely just watched the whole ordeal unfold.

fuck, he thinks, taking a drink and pushing his hair back. cold water brushes against his split lip and he winces slightly, breathing still laboured from the exertion of both his play and his onslaught of hits onto the opposing team. you’re a worrier by nature, and juraj’s sure that whatever close up of his face that they’ve displayed on the broadcast has done nothing to quell your concern.

scraps happen all the time in hockey. it’s a fact that you were well aware of long before you’d even started dating juraj, and it would be ridiculous to expect him to never get caught up in a bit of a scuffle. if anything, it should be assumed. but this doesn’t mean you have to like the thought of it, either.

no one likes to see their partner roughed up and bleeding, no matter how good they may or may not have looked whilst getting into said fight. especially not when you have to wait another two hours or so to see them again.

two minds intertwined, both you and juraj desperately wish you could have attended the game tonight so the distance between you could be a little smaller. he would find a way, some method of conveying to you that he was completely okay, and worrying was the last thing you needed to do. the dickhead deserved it, after all.

sadly, things can’t always work out the way that juraj wishes, and now he has to deal with the consequences. it’s a painful rest of the game, and his drive home is even more laborious. how he will find a way to quell your worry, to assure you he was fine, and that if anything, this method of getting out a little extra aggression was pretty healthy depending on who you asked, is beyond him. luck and charm is all he has on his side.

turns out, all of his planning and preparation isn’t needed.

he doesn’t even have the chance to get a word out before you’re rushing over to him, a surprise yet fond oof escaping his bitten lips as you bury your face into his sturdy chest. large calloused hands find their way to sit at your waist, the fabric of your hoodie hiking up slightly to grant juraj’s fingertips access to your skin.

he’s granted a tight hug before you’re pulling back far too soon for his liking, your warmth lingering against his chest and tunnelling through his skin to reach his heart. juraj’s thumbs stroke at the exposed strip of your waist as he awaits your next move.

in an effort to reach his face, you push up onto your toes and juraj automatically stabilises you by tightening his grip on your waist. cautious to not hurt him, you cup his jaw with a gentle hand, the dusting of faint hair familiar against your skin. your thumb barely ghosts over the dried crack of blood sitting on his bottom lip, a place you’d pressed countless kisses in the past now marred by a mark of frustration.

with your furrowed brows and pouty lips, you look downright adorable to juraj as you survey his scrapes, which are arguably nothing in his eyes. he’d be lying if he were to say he wasn’t enjoying the way you were fussing over him, and he was a little amused at just how concerned you were over a few little cuts.

finally, your observation comes to an end.

“you’re an idiot,” you surmise, clicking your tongue softly as you fail to hold back a smile.

the blunt nature of your words takes him aback, and he barks out a laugh.

“it’s not bad.”

his voice is thick, accent heavy, and it takes a lot of effort for you not to swoon.

“there’s blood.”

he holds his hand up, pinching his pointer finger and thumb close together. “little bit.”

“still blood.”

his eyes are locked onto yours, and though you want to do nothing more than kiss him silly, the thought of causing him any more pain or discomfort is out of the question. all you can do is stare at one another, hoping your expression can convey far more than touch or words.

eventually, your hand leaves his jaw, and juraj finds himself having to stop his face tilting, wanting to follow the caress of your palm, to chase the warmth it gives him. the longing doesn’t last long as your hand finds his own, squeezing it in a show of love.

he doesn’t think twice as you lead him into the bathroom. your hands are on your hips as you huff out a breath, squinting slightly in a laboured effort to remember where exactly you stored the haphazard medical kit that was invented for moments exactly like this.

luck is on your side, as your guess of rooting through the cabinet underneath the sink proves to be successful. your fingers swipe through various medical products, and you pluck out some plasters and antiseptic, hoping that they would do the job.

juraj stands behind you like a lost puppy, half amused and half concerned at the speed at which you’re moving. he truly doesn’t think his injuries are anything to dwell on, but the way that you’re acting prompts him to think twice.

oblivious to his hovering, you plant your palms firmly onto the cold marble of the bathroom counter before you push yourself up, your new height bonus granting you easier access to the scrapes on juraj’s face. you pat your thighs and give him a smile.

“come here then, let’s get you patched up.”

juraj doesn’t need to be told twice. in two long strides he’s standing between your split legs, hands finding purchase on your thighs as you take a minute to properly assess the damage done to your boy’s face. truly, it could be far worse - you’ve seen players lose teeth in the past, after all - but you think you’ve earned the right to be a little dramatic.

“this might sting,” you warn, beginning to pour some of the antiseptic liquid onto a cotton ball. the strong scent causes your nose to scrunch and juraj can’t help but to press a kiss to the wrinkled skin, a silent communication of consent.

it hurts like a bitch. you murmur apologies throughout, cursing and wincing with him as you dab at the area around the wounds in an attempt to clean up as much of the blood as possible. it’s impressive, how efficiently you work, considering you’re not exactly well versed in cleaning up wounds.

“what even happened?” you ask. “whole thing happened out of nowhere, from what i saw.”

juraj drums his fingers against your thighs, jaw clenched slightly as he distracts himself from the harsh sting of the antiseptic liquid. your question gives him something to think about, to focus on.

“eh, nothing really. was frustrated, he chirped me. next thing i know, we are fighting.”

you can’t help but laugh at his nonchalance, and your smile reflects onto his own face, the sun lending light to the moon. the motion stretches the gash on his bottom lip and he hisses a little, letting out an indignant sound as you swat at his curious hand.

the plasters you purchased are far too big for the small cuts along his lip and cheek, so you’re forced to slim them down slightly with a pair of rapidly acquired nail scissors, tongue poking from the corner of your lips. you delicately press the bandages to his injuries, smoothing over the fabric with a level of caution reserved for fine china or glass.

evaluating your half-assed medical job, you move to cup juraj’s face once more and relish in the way that he steps closer to you. a hand swipes at his cheekbone, and you tsk slightly as your knuckles graze the mottled skin in an act of sympathy. “that’s definitely gonna bruise love.”

“eh, it will make me look tough,” he jokes, puffing out his already large frame even further. it’s impressive, you have to admit.

“don’t want you looking tough,” you huff. “want you looking okay. no matter how good you look when y’roughing someone up.”

though you’re joking, juraj senses the underlying worry in your tone, your mind wandering to the threat of him stumbling through your doorway in a far worse condition.

“i’ll be more careful.” a promise.

“what am i gonna do with you, hm?” you tease.

your hands come to rest around his broad shoulders, and juraj slides you off of the counter, hands coming to support your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist. he carries you towards your bed like it’s nothing, laying you down gently before crawling next to you. he wastes no time in pulling you into his chest, your ear against his chest as the steady thrum of his heartbeat lulls you into a calmer state.

“for now? cuddle me. all i need.”

“i’d love nothing more.”

#.° ༘🗝️⋆₊ becca’s drabbles #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky x you #juraj slafkovsky blurb #hockey x reader

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hubbvrd · 4 months

Note

13 with Adam maybe? Only if you’re comfortable of course <3

Feelings | Adam Fantilli

summary — Adam and y/n have been friends since they were little. Both have had feelings for each other for a while. But what happens when the two suddenly get closer at a sleepover party?

pairing — adam fantilli x reader

words — 2760

notes — thanks for your request. I hope you like it!🧡

Everyone has that one day of the week that they particularly look forward to.

For most people, it's definitely Friday, which marks the end of a hard week at school or work and the weekend at last.

For others, it is Saturday or Sunday, which stands for sleeping in, free time, time for yourself and doing nothing.

Your favorite day of the week was Saturday. Especially those special Saturdays when your best friend Adam wasn't on the ice fighting for the win with the Blue Jackets.

But the Saturdays that were just you and Adam.

These Saturdays didn't come around too often during the year. But when that special Saturday came around again, it meant a sleepover with Adam.

Adam and you grew up together thanks to your mothers, who have been friends for a long time.

Adam is just eleven days older than you, which means the two of you have been more or less inseparable since you were born and have walked almost every step together.

There was hardly a day when you were ever apart in your childhood, because not only were your mothers best friends, but the Fantillis' and the Y/L/N's houses were next door to each other, so you played together in the big garden every day in the summer.

And in winter you spent most of your time in front of the fireplace or on a nearby ice rink playing hockey with Luca Fantilli, Adam's brother, and your little sister Lucy.

"I'll be fine" you mumble as you climb the last few steps, resting your chin with difficulty on the many blankets you're holding in your hands and hoping you don't lose them on the last few meters to your room.

"Is that special sleepover party coming up again tonight?" Out of the corner of your eye, you see your sister waggle her eyebrow as you walk over to your room.

"Yeah, Adam's coming in about an hour," you let her know as you put the blankets down on your desk and then survey the little mess of clothes in your room.

Earlier, you had gone to look for the same two pairs of pyjamas that you and Adam wear every year. They had been so far back in the wardrobe that you had unintentionally created a little clothing chaos.

"Then you're storm-free. I hope you use the time very wisely." With a broad grin, Lucy drops onto your bed.

"Yes, well, by watching a movie, eating some snacks and chatting a bit," you mumble more or less to yourself, but loud enough for Lucy to hear you as you start to carelessly throw all the clothes scattered around your room into the closet.

This wasn't the best idea, but it's the quickest one right now, because you still have a few other things to prepare before Adam will be at the door.

And that's why the closet was at the back of the queue and had to wait until tomorrow for its turn.

"You know exactly what I mean, y/n." A loud sigh can be heard from Lucy's direction as you start to rebuild the cave that Adam and you used to make out of blankets and pillows when you were four years old.

By now you were able to build the cave in your sleep. At the age of 19, some people would probably consider this cave too babyish, but you and Adam still loved this cozy cave so much and it brought back a lot of childhood memories that you like to talk about.

"No, I don't know about that." You carefully start to stretch one of the blankets for the roof and then carefully attach the end to the wall.

"If Adam and you carry on like this, you won't be a couple even when you're pensioners," your sister snorts formally and before you can say anything cheeky back, your mother's voice calls Lucy from downstairs.

"You got lucky again, y/n. Mom really saves your butt a lot from this conversation. See you tomorrow then. Don't forget to use contraception if you make it that far this time and ever get close."

"Lucy!" you hiss, startled, as heat rushes to your cheeks and you reach for a pillow to throw in Lucy's direction.

However, your little sister has disappeared from your room so quickly that you don't even have the chance to throw the pillow.

"Oh man..." you murmur quietly to yourself as you just stand there for a few seconds and breathe deeply.

It's no secret that you like Adam, really like him and are more or less in love with him, but there hasn't yet been a good time to really let him feel it.

"Maybe today," you answer your feelings out loud as you continue to get the height ready.

- - -

"I heard there's a special sleepover party here?" Adam looks at you with a beaming face after you open the door and let the older man into the house.

"Correct," you reply with a grin and after you close the door behind Adam, you are immediately pulled into a warm hug, so that Adam's aftershave surrounds you and briefly makes you gather yourself again.

"I missed you, y/n," he murmurs into your hair before letting go of you too quickly.

"I-I missed you too..." you stammer, a little confused, as you tug sheepishly at the sleeve of your sweater.

"I hope I've got everything with me" Adam babbles as he pulls the rucksack off his shoulders and then taps the full rucksack once.

"Well, I hope you haven't forgotten the nachos with your mother's best cheese sauce," you reply with a wry grin as you run ahead up the stairs and Adam follows you.

"Nope, Mom made sure I packed them for sure."

A grin grows on your lips. "Great, she knows what's good for me.

"Yeah, I'm good for you" Adam winks at you before walking into your room, thankfully not seeing your cheeks turn a shade of pink. "Wow. The cave looks mega, as always."

For a few seconds, you bite your bottom lip to somehow chase away the tingling sensation that's slowly making its way through your body before following Adam into your room. Adam has actually just been flirting with you.

Adam is crouched in front of the den, which is filled with countless pillows and blankets and has various fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the den a little and bathing it in a warm light.

"All that's missing are our pyjamas..."

Adam turns to you and looks up at you from his crouched position.

"They almost got on my last nerve. I had to search until I found them. I was panicking that they had gone missing" you babble on as you walk over to your dresser and take down the pyjamas.

"Luckily you found them, otherwise we would have had to cancel the whole party," Adam jokes, suddenly standing in front of you and holding out his hands for his pyjamas.

"Or we would have had to buy new ones."

Smirking, Adam reaches for the warm fabric of the pyjamas and his fingers graze yours for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on you and he seems to sense how you're reacting to this little touch.

While a tingling sensation breaks out inside you again, you try to be as relaxed as possible on the outside, but you don't really succeed.

Your eyes widen slightly as your mouth opens slightly and the warmth rises in your cheeks again.

Damn, I really have to pull myself together! Otherwise Adam will think God knows what of me, you try to pull yourself together somehow, hoping that this evening will be more relaxed and that you won't come into contact with Adam too often.

But that would be boring, wouldn't it?

- - -

Dressed in your pyjamas and snuggled up under the warm blankets in the cave, Adam and you lie next to each other. There's a cushion between you so that you can relax a little more and take a deep breath.

While you lie there and watch Adam, he starts to get various snacks and drinks from his rucksack. These include various pastries that his mother has prepared especially for you.

"Please tell me these are exactly the cookies I think they are!" you almost shriek as Adam holds the Tupperware container with the large cookies in front of you.

"These are my mom's world-famous cookies" he proudly presents to you, uttering the sentence you've been dying to hear.

"I love your mom for this" you gush with your mouth full, because you just couldn't wait to leave the cookies untouched any longer.

As you start to chew with relish, Adam watches you with amusement and a smirk on his lips.

"What are they? They're awesome," you mumble with your mouth full. "And instead of staring at me now, you could choose a movie, Fantilli."

Adam starts to turn red within a few seconds, so he quickly turns his head away and goes to your laptop, where he opens Netflix and then starts looking for a movie.

Did Adam really just turn red because of me? you ask yourself. No, that can't be it. There must be another reason...

"Uh, what genre?" Adam mumbles quietly, his eyes still fixed on the laptop and his voice sounding slightly nervous.

"You decide" you reply, popping the last piece of cookie into your mouth as you continue to watch Adam and begin to wonder if he's really nervous about you right now.

Does he perhaps feel the same as you?

Do you trigger exactly the same feelings in him as he does in you? Was that really possible just now? Or are you just imagining all of this?

You would love to open your mouth and ask Adam all the questions that are running through your head, but when you open your mouth, not a single word comes out. It's probably for the best, because you don't want to be wrong and end up damaging your friendship or upsetting or hurting Adam.

"Then let's look at this one" Adam interrupts your train of thought as he selects a movie and then places your laptop between you so that you can both see clearly.

"Can you tell me his name?" you ask as the movie starts and you begin to sit down a little more comfortably.

Adam tells you the title of the movie, which you haven't heard before, so you are all the more excited about the movie and can hardly wait to immerse yourself in the story of the protagonists.

- - -

An hour and a half later, the black screen of the movie appears, which you comment on with a slight pout.

The movie drew you in within a few seconds and didn't let go so quickly that you can hardly believe it's over.

The movie was about two best friends who grew up together, were inseparable and suddenly went their separate ways until one day they found each other again and then fell in love.

The story was a little like you and Adam, but a little different, so you start to wonder if Adam chose this movie specifically to confess his feelings to you through a flower?

No, that was silly. Stop getting yourself into things! You're almost becoming obsessed, you admonish yourself again.

"The movie was good," you say quickly to silence any further thoughts that might come to mind.

"Yes, it really was," Adam replies and you hear a soft rustling beside you.

Shortly afterwards, Adam is quite close to you so that you can smell his aftershave again.

Within a few seconds, your heart starts to beat a little faster and the nervousness inside you begins to grow.

"Y/n," he almost whispered over to you, causing you to feel his warm breath lightly against your cheek.

The tingling in your body begins to awaken again, while you are unable to touch yourself even a little.

"A-Adam," you whisper back nervously as the rustling of the blanket sounds next to you again and shortly afterwards you find yourself in Adam's arms again.

"What are you doing?" you whisper again as you slowly manage to look at your best friend.

"What I should have done a long time ago," he replies in a whisper, sounding rather nervous.

His eyes rest gently on yours as his hand moves towards your cheek, where he places it and begins to gently stroke the small scar on your temple with his thumb, the one you got when Adam and you climbed up into the trees together and you injured yourself on a branch.

"I don't want this to be like it was until today," he begins to say as he continues to run his hand over your scar and looks you in the eye.

Unable to speak, you just stare at the person opposite you while your breathing is almost intermittent and your heart is pounding so fast you feel like Adam can hear it.

"I...I guess this could change everything now, y/n. But I have to risk it. I can't hold back my feelings anymore. My feelings for you are getting stronger and stronger. And every time I see you, it hurts not to be allowed to do this..." as Adam speaks, he comes closer and closer to you until his warm lips are on yours shortly afterwards.

Fireworks explode inside you so that your whole body starts to tingle within a few seconds and you open your eyes in shock for a few seconds because you are so taken by surprise by Adam and his lips on yours that you need a moment before you close your eyes again and return the kiss.

All too quickly, Adam detaches himself from you again and rests his forehead against yours so that you look into each other's eyes and your breathing quickens a little.

"I'm madly in love with you, y/n," he almost whispers, as if he's afraid to say the words out loud.

"Adam?" you whisper softly.

"Yes?" You can't help but notice that his voice sounds a little nervous.

"I'm in love with you too. And have been for so long," you whisper back and within a few seconds his lips are on yours again.

This time the kiss is much more intense. His lips move gently against yours, while his hand continues to rest against your cheek, gently stroking your cheek.

Your hands move to his neck, where they intertwine and you carefully pull Adam closer to you to somehow show yourself that this is real.

After a while, you slowly pull away from each other, whereupon Adam lies down on his back and pulls you with him, so that you carefully lay your head on his chest and Adam pulls the blanket over you.

Silence begins to reign between you, but it is anything but uncomfortable. On the contrary, you both use the silence to review the last few minutes.

A grin spreads across your lips as you snuggle closer to Adam, who wraps his arms around you and then rests his head on yours.

"Adam?" you murmur contentedly into the silence as you enjoy the closeness and hope that this closeness will never disappear.

"Yes?"

"You're the first person that's ever made me feel so safe" you murmur as Adam's closeness and warmth begin to make you slightly sleepy.

In fact, you've always felt so safe around Adam.

Every time Adam protected you from older boys who teased you.

Every time your teacher tried to force you to read aloud, even though you were too nervous to read a single sentence.

Every time you had a driving lesson and Adam sat in the back seat to be with you.

The time you had an appendectomy and Adam sat next to your bed after the operation and held your hand when you were in pain.

The time you got the email from your dream college and he sat next to you and held your hand.

There were so many moments when he made you feel safe.

Too many moments to list them all.

But now, after the two kisses and the moment when you're lying in his arms, you really realize that Adam was the one person who made you feel safe.

And you are sure that there will be countless more moments when it will be the same.

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