#but then I realize people haven't even met jack

[daeniradraconis]

Unexpected Overtime - Q. Hughes

Hey Lovelies! 💖

Sooo, here’s Quinn’s story in The Hughes Effect Saga. You can read this one on its own, but trust me—it’ll make way more sense if you check out Luke & Jack’s stories first!

I LOVED writing this one, but ngl, I also kinda hated it —I just wasn’t sure if I fully nailed Quinn’s personality. But hey, I gave it my best shot, and I really hope you enjoy it! Summary: Quinn Hughes is injured, spiralling, and sinking into a darkness he can’t escape. But the worst part? He’s in love with his best friend—and he doesn’t even realize it yet.

Warnings: Mention of rape! I included Olivia & their past relationship in the story, but it’s pure fiction! I don’t know anything about what actually happened, so this is just my imagination running wild. Also, this story is 18+ because... well, the ending speaks for itself. 🔥

Happy reading! For more fun: masterlist

--- Being friends with Quinn Hughes was a test of patience, persistence, and an alarming amount of forced conversations.

Blanca still remembered the first time they met—at Brock Boeser's girlfriend Bella's birthday party. She and Bella had hit it off months earlier in a Pilates class, bonding over their shared love of overpriced smoothies and their mutual inability to take life too seriously. Through Bella, she met Brock a couple of times, but the rest of the team? Completely new territory.

She felt like an outsider, and that annoyed the hell out of her. But in hindsight, maybe it was the luckiest thing of the night, because Quinn Hughes felt the same way.

Unlike the other guys, who were comfortable and relaxed, Quinn hovered near the edge of the party, practically trying to blend into the wallpaper. He was the team’s rookie, still adjusting, still figuring out his place. Awkward and reserved, he kept attempting to join conversations but never quite sank into them. Every now and then, he’d let out a short laugh at something one of the guys said, but Blanca could tell it wasn’t real—just a filler response to keep people from noticing how uncomfortable he felt.

It was written all over his face. What the hell am I doing here?

He looked like he wanted to bolt.

Blanca knew that feeling all too well. And she hated standing alone and awkward. So, she did what she thought was her best option for the night—she forced her presence on Quinn Hughes.

Without hesitation, she plopped down next to him on the couch, drink in hand.

"You have the face of a man plotting his escape," she noted, taking a sip.

Quinn blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, unless this is just your natural resting broody face, in which case—my bad.”

For a second, he just stared at her. Then, to her surprise, he let out a short laugh. “I don’t brood.”

"Mmm, debatable. The way you're sitting here all tense, barely talking to anyone, looking like you're regretting every life choice that led you to this exact moment? Kinda broody."

Quinn shook his head, amused. "I'm just… not really a party guy."

"Not shocking," Blanca teased. "You seem more like a ‘watch highlights and stress about the next game’ kind of guy."

His eyebrows lifted. "You got that from watching me sit here for five minutes?"

She grinned. "I'm very observant. Also, you're wearing your stress on your face, buddy."

Quinn exhaled through his nose, shaking his head again, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. Blanca took that as a win.

"So, how do you know Bella?" he asked after a beat.

"Pilates class. We bonded over our shared suffering."

Quinn gave her a skeptical look. "You willingly do Pilates?"

"Listen, don't judge me. I like pain."

He smirked. "That explains why you're talking to me."

Blanca gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, you do have a sense of humor. I was worried."

Quinn chuckled, shaking his head again. "You're a lot."

"And yet, you haven't told me to go away."

He didn't have an answer for that—just took a sip of his drink, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Blanca knew then that she had cracked something, even if just slightly.

By the end of the night, she had done most of the talking while Quinn just sat there, listening, watching, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark that only encouraged her more. She found him difficult—hard to read, stubbornly reserved—but also fascinating. Quinn, for his part, seemed amused by her relentless energy.

In a lot of ways, Blanca reminded him of his younger brother, Luke—clumsy, chatty, and filled with an almost annoying amount of enthusiasm. But somehow, instead of feeling overwhelmed, he found it… oddly comforting.

And that was how their friendship started. Or, as Blanca would put it, how she forced her friendship on Quinn Hughes.

Because as much as Quinn would later act like she had been an inconvenience that night, she knew—knew—that he had been grateful. He wasn’t the best with words, but Blanca had a knack for reading between the lines.

Which was exactly how she knew Quinn was pissed right now.

“Jesus Christ, Hughes. You could drive a saint to swearing.”

“Sorry, Blan, but I don’t need you to baby me.”

"Quinn." She folded her arms, standing her ground. "I know you hate being injured. I know you hate that you can’t play. I know you bottle things up and don’t want to talk about it. But this is why I moved in with you. You can't deny that you need help."

She pointed at his arm, frustration bubbling over. “You can’t even lift a goddamn fork, Quinny.”

His jaw tightened as he glared at her. She stared right back.

Yeah, Quinn Hughes was stubborn as hell.

Good thing Blanca had never been the type to walk away from a challenge.

"Open your mouth, Hughes." She dangled a tortilla chip loaded with guacamole in front of his face.

Quinn sat at the table, leaning back in his chair as if the mere suggestion of it was an insult. "No."

Blanca rolled her eyes. "Quinn."

"I can feed myself."

"Really? Barely."

"I'm not a child."

"You sure? Because you’ve spilled salsa on your hoodie twice in the last ten minutes."

Quinn scowled, glancing at the small red stain near his ribs. "It’s not my fault. My left hand is useless."

"Exactly." Blanca pushed the chip closer. "So stop being a pain and eat."

His jaw clenched, but after a beat, he snatched the chip from her hand, awkwardly gripping it with his left fingers, trying not to drop it. He shoved it into his mouth, chewing angrily.

Blanca smirked. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

Quinn muttered something under his breath and reached for his glass of water, but his hand fumbled against the rim, almost knocking it over. Blanca caught it just in time, sighing dramatically as she steadied the cup.

"Wow," she said. "Super graceful."

Quinn exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t just about the injury—and she knew it. Blanca could see the weight of it all in his eyes. The endless mess that was Quinn Hughes’ life, and how tired he was of trying to hold it together. His team was struggling, the locker room was tense, and he felt like he was holding it all together with duct tape and a prayer. The JT trade was supposed to be a breath of fresh air, but the chemistry was poisoned, and the vibe in the locker room only got worse. As captain, he felt responsible for the disaster, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

Blanca noticed the change in his mood, and to distract him, she shifted the conversation. "How are your brothers doing? I heard you talking to them this morning."

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, relieved for the change in topic. "Luke and Thea are apartment hunting."

Blanca raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. With Jack’s girlfriend around, four people in one place was too much."

Blanca laughed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "Took them long enough to figure that out."

Quinn huffed. "Seriously." He hesitated, then added, "And I think Luke's gonna propose."

Blanca nearly dropped the wooden spoon she was using. "Shut up."

"I’m serious."

"Luke Hughes? The baby of the family?"

"He’s twenty-one, Blan."

She snorted. "Yeah, well, that still makes him a baby. But damn, Thea must be special."

"She is," Quinn admitted, leaning back in his chair. "Luke's different with her. More mature. It's… weird."

Blanca smiled as she flipped a tortilla on the stove. "Weird in a good way?"

"Yeah." Quinn’s voice was thoughtful, almost surprised. "It’s good. He’s happy, really happy."

Blanca stole a glance at him. He was staring at the counter, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the marble table, lost in thought. His expression was distant, like he was a million miles away. Blanca knew exactly what was going through his mind. He wanted what his brother had—the love, the stability, the certainty. And it frustrated him to no end that he wasn’t even close to having something like that.

"And Jack?" she asked, keeping her tone light. "How’s he handling having a girlfriend?"

Quinn let out a low chuckle. "Honestly? Better than I thought. I didn’t think Anja would stick around, but she has. I mean, it's Jack."

"You mean Jack ‘manwhore’ Hughes?" Blanca teased.

Quinn smirked again. "Yeah. But he changed a lot. He is more… grounded, I guess. I don't know how to explain it. He's still Jack, but... toned down."

Blanca flipped another tortilla, nodding. "Miracles do happen, Quinny. Here’s the proof." Then, before she could stop herself, she added, "Maybe you should take notes."

Quinn's head snapped up. "What?"

Blanca shrugged, feigning innocence. "I mean, if Jack can leave his hookup phase behind, maybe you should think about it too."

His jaw clenched. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." His gray eyes darkened.

Blanca gave him a knowing look. "Quinn..."

His expression hardened, defensive. "Drop it."

So she did. For now. But worry lingered, heavy in her chest.

Because she knew exactly what she was talking about.

Quinn had never been like this. Even when he was younger, he was never the typical NHL player—the one who used fame to collect one-night stands. Sure, hockey had always been his life, but Quinn was also a hopeless romantic. He might not have been great with words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was the kind of guy who remembered the little things—how someone took their coffee, the way they fidgeted when they were nervous, the songs they liked but never admitted to. He cared deeply, even if he didn’t say it out loud. And he wanted to be a father more than anything. They’d talked about it before. He really wanted a family. 

Blanca and Quinn had been friends for seven years now. They’d been through a lot together. Quinn had been there for her when she’d dealt with her trauma caused by her sexually abusive stepfather, when her first love broke her heart, and when she wrecked her car in the middle of a snowstorm and needed him to pick her up in the dead of night. She had always been there for him too. But with Quinn, it was harder. She knew his desires, his dreams, but he hated sharing his burdens. When things went wrong, he shut down, bottling everything up until it exploded. She wished he would let her in. She knew how bad his coping mechanisms were. She understood, because she’d done the same, and she’d nearly lost herself in depression. She knew firsthand how damaging this could be.

Quinn was cold, detached. He hooked up with random girls like it didn’t matter. Like they didn’t matter. And Blanca knew why. She knew who had broken him.

Olivia.

The girl who had shattered him, made him question everything, and turned him into someone who didn’t believe in love anymore.

Quinn wouldn’t talk about it. He avoided the subject like the plague. But Blanca wasn’t stupid. She saw the way he moved through life now—jaded, disillusioned, cynical. She was there when things went south with Olivia. She knew things had ended badly, but Quinn refused to share the details. He claimed hockey was his priority and that he needed to make a decision, but that was only part of the whole story. Everyone knew it—his mom, his dad, his brothers, and his friends. He wasn’t ready to share more. But it had been a year now, and he was still closed off.

And Blanca was afraid.

Afraid that if he kept this up, he would lose something in himself. Something he wouldn’t be able to get back.

She swallowed hard, pushing the lump in her throat down as she slid a plate of tacos in front of him.

"Eat," she ordered.

Quinn didn’t argue. He picked up a taco—with his left hand, struggled, cursed under his breath, and took a bite.

Blanca almost smiled. Almost.

But the worry didn’t go away.

Because Quinn Hughes was spiraling.

And she had no idea how to stop it.

—

Blanca clinked her glass against Bella’s, the sound of laughter and conversation buzzing around them in the crowded pub. The atmosphere was warm, filled with the hum of Friday night energy. She leaned back against the bar, letting the buzz of excitement settle in, though a quiet unease lingered beneath her skin.

“So, what do you think about that guy over there?” Bella gestured toward a group of men at a nearby table, one of them flashing a grin in their direction.

Blanca smiled faintly, her gaze drifting over to the group. The guy Bella pointed out had messy hair, a confident smile, and an easy charm about him. He looked good, but even as she saw him, a wall rose up inside her, the same wall she couldn’t seem to break down, no matter how hard she tried.

“The one with the messy hair?” Blanca asked, her voice light, though she could feel the hesitation bubbling up in her chest.

Bella nodded, a grin spreading on her face. “Yeah. He’s been eyeing you for a while.”

Blanca glanced back at him. He was cute, definitely her type—tall, with that rugged, effortless charm. But as she met his gaze and saw the way he looked at her, a familiar ache twisted in her stomach. She couldn’t do it—not tonight. 

“Hmm,” Blanca murmured, raising her glass to her lips. “Maybe, but I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

Bella raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You’ve been working hard on yourself, Blan. You’re allowed to have some fun."

Blanca’s fingers traced the rim of her glass, trying to push down the weight in her chest. “I know. But... I don’t know. It’s just—sometimes it feels easier to keep people at arm's length, you know?”

Bella’s gaze softened, the understanding clear in her eyes. She didn’t need any further explanation—she knew about Blanca’s past. She knew about her stepfather, the abuse, the aftermath. And, more than anyone, she understood the pain of trying to rebuild after something like that. Blanca had been through years of therapy, working through the trauma, and she had made incredible progress. But some days, like tonight, the scars still felt raw.

"I get it," Bella said quietly, leaning in a little. "But you’re in a good place now, right? You’ve come so far. You deserve to let someone in. You’re allowed to feel worthy of love."

Blanca’s lips pressed together, a bittersweet smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, I’m okay. As okay as I can be." She paused, her fingers still tracing the rim of her glass, the quiet reminder of her past lingering in her thoughts. "It’s just hard sometimes. I want to feel… normal. But…then…it’s like I forget how to even let someone close.”

Bella gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t press. “It’s a process. But you’re getting there.”

Blanca nodded, grateful for her friend’s patience. “Thanks. Really.”

Bella shrugged, as if brushing off the deep conversation. "No biggie. Now, what about that guy with the plaid shirt? He’s been eyeing you all night.”

Blanca chuckled, pushing herself to be more present in the moment. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

Bella winked. “A girl’s gotta look out for her best friend.” She then raised her drink and gave a mischievous smile. “You know, if you're not going to make a move, I'll just ask for his number for my sister."

Blanca laughed, shaking her head. "Go ahead. I’m not stopping you."

They continued their teasing and lighthearted chatter for a while, the pub’s lively hum almost drowning out the more complicated thoughts swirling in Blanca’s mind. It was easy to get lost in the fun, in the banter, in the sense of normalcy. 

As they shared another round, Bella pulled out her phone, her eyes scanning the screen. Blanca didn't think much of it at first, until Bella’s expression shifted. Her fingers froze mid-scroll, and she lifted her gaze, a quiet frown forming on her face.

“What’s up?” Blanca asked, a little concerned.

Bella didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes told a different story. Finally, she spoke, her voice tinged with that familiar note of understanding. “It’s Olivia.”

Blanca tried to keep her tone light, though she could feel her insides twisting. “What about her?”

Bella’s voice dropped a little. “She just posted a picture. With her new boyfriend.”

The words hit her like a blow to the chest. It was like a jolt of electricity shot through her body. The weight of it all—the reminder of Quinn’s heartbreak, the way Olivia had left him behind without a second thought—it all came rushing back.

Blanca’s hand tightened around her glass. She could already picture Quinn, alone, staring at his phone, the pain in his eyes growing darker with each passing minute.

She looked at Bella, her expression shifting. “I have to go.”

Bella immediately understood. “Blanca... you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she interrupted, standing up quickly. “Quinn’s going to see that and—he’s not going to handle it well. I can’t just leave him like that.”

Bella nodded, her expression softening with concern. “Go. I get it.”

Blanca shot her a tight smile and grabbed her purse, throwing a few bills down on the table. "I’ll check in with you later. Thanks for tonight, B."

Bella didn’t say anything more, just gave her a quiet nod, watching her leave. As Blanca made her way out of the pub, the chill of the night air hit her skin, but inside, the warmth of the crowd and the music faded into the background. She could already feel the familiar weight of worry settle on her shoulders.

Quinn had been struggling, and tonight, it was about to get worse. She needed to get to him before he spiraled completely. She couldn’t just let him shut down again.

Her breath was shallow as she pulled her phone from her bag, quickly typing out a message to Quinn: I’m going back. Don’t do anything stupid.

She didn’t wait for a cab to pull up in front of the pub; instead, she hailed the first one she saw and climbed in without hesitation.

The taxi rolled to a stop outside their building, and Blanca could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed up the stairs, her mind only on Quinn. The elevator felt like it would take too long, so she took the stairs two at a time, her breath shallow as she pushed through the door into the apartment.

She didn’t need to see much to know that Quinn was in a bad place. The dark living room was only dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV, and there he was, sprawled across the couch, eyes red, face drawn. His jaw was clenched tight, fists occasionally twitching like he was fighting against himself.

Blanca hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway. She could see it in his posture—the way he held himself tight, like he was trying to keep something from spilling out. The anger, the sadness, the frustration.

“Quinn…” Her voice was soft, unsure how he would react.

He didn’t look up, but he scoffed. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone right now.”

Blanca’s stomach twisted, the words cutting through her like they always did when he shut her out. She stepped forward slowly, placing her purse down on the table. “Quinn,” she said again, firmer this time, her voice carrying the weight of everything she needed to say. “You’re not fine. And you’re not going to shut me out this time.”

He finally glanced up, his eyes wild, almost defiant. “I’m not in the mood for your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” she shot back, moving closer, refusing to back down. “I’m here because I care. You’ve been there for me, you’ve held me when I thought I couldn’t stand anymore. And now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

Quinn let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What’s the point? You don’t get it. You’ve got your life together. You’ve got—” He cut himself off, his voice lowering, and he looked away, staring out the window into the night.

Blanca stood there for a moment, her chest tight with emotion. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to be stuck, to be at the mercy of your own mind. But Quinn’s pain was different. He was drowning in it, and no matter how much he tried to convince everyone—including himself—that he was fine, it was clear he wasn’t.

“Quinn,” she began, her voice softer now. "I get it, I really do. I know what it feels like to fall apart, to have your entire world crumble and not know how to fix it. And you know that because you were there for me through it all.”

And that was it. Quinn finally broke down, the tears that had been building up spilling over, his sobs raw and unrestrained. He buried his face in his hands, his entire body trembling.

Blanca didn't say anything. She just sat down next to him, letting him cry, her heart breaking for him, for everything he was carrying, and for everything he felt he had lost.

Quinn’s shoulders shook with each breath, his sobs raw, like the sound of someone unraveling piece by piece. His fists clenched and unclenched in his lap as if he were trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself together. But nothing could hold the pieces back any longer. Not when the weight of everything was pressing down on him with such unbearable force.

Blanca held him as he broke apart, and her heart cracked for him. But she knew this moment wasn’t just about comforting him—it was about letting him speak, to let him be seen in all his brokenness, something he rarely allowed himself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his sobs started to quiet down, though he still trembled under her touch. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to. His voice, hoarse and broken, barely came out in a whisper.

“I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for any of this,” he muttered, his words barely audible. His eyes, red and bloodshot, stared at the floor as though looking at the mess of his life, but unable to find a way to fix it.

Blanca didn’t speak, knowing that he wasn’t done, that this was only the beginning of the avalanche that was about to pour out.

Quinn rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down slowly, the exhaustion from everything he was carrying weighing heavily on him. “I’m twenty-five, Blanca. Twenty-five. And I feel like I’m falling behind. I should have more. I should be… I should be someone by now. Not just a fucking captain who can’t keep his team together. Not just a guy who spends his nights alone in this apartment.”

He looked at her then, his gaze empty, almost pleading. “I thought I’d have it figured out by now. I thought by the time I was in my mid twenties, I would have the house. The job. The family. I would be set, you know? I’d have a plan, I’d have a life.”

His hands clenched at his sides again, his nails digging into his palms like it would somehow ground him in this sea of uncertainty. “But I don’t have any of that. Nothing. Just a failing career, a broken relationship, and—” he paused, swallowing hard. His chest tightened as if the words were caught in his throat, too painful to say. “And I’m just... so fucking tired of watching everyone else live the life I thought I would have. My teammates, my friends, even Jack—who never even wanted a girlfriend. He has everything.”

Blanca felt her heart ache at the raw honesty in his words. He’d never expressed it like this before. He had always been the one who held it all together, the one everyone looked to for strength, for leadership. 

He shook his head, looking lost. “Luke’s getting married soon. Conor’s got a kid now. Hell, even fucking Elias is settling down. It feels like everyone is out there getting what they want—what they deserve—except me. And I thought... I thought I could handle it. But... I’m not handling it. I’m just sitting here, alone in this apartment, and I can’t even look at my own career without feeling like I’m failing. I’m so fucking lonely Blan.”

Blanca could feel her throat tightening as she watched him struggle, his pain radiating off him in waves. He was a man who had built up this image of himself, this strong, capable leader. But now he was torn apart in front of her, vulnerable and uncertain.

“I know I fucked up with Olivia,” he said, his voice bitter as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I put hockey first. I always did. It’s my fault. And now she’s gone, and part of me is happy she’s found someone, but a selfish part of me hates it. I know we weren’t healthy for each other. I know… I just believed…"

Blanca’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. This was the first time Quinn had opened up about Olivia, and the weight of his words hit her harder than she expected. "I thought she would understand," he continued, voice shaking slightly. "I knew it wasn’t fair to expect her to give up her life in New York. I asked her to move in with me, and when she said no, my ego got bruised. She wanted to take things slow, but I... I wanted everything right away. So, I pushed harder with hockey. But all it did was make me more miserable. I was putting everything into the team, but we were still failing. And in the process, I lost her."

Quinn ran a shaky hand through his hair, eyes wide with frustration. "I wanted it all, Blanca. The career, the family, the love. But now... now I feel like I can’t even balance being captain. I’m not holding the team together like I should. Maybe I was never good enough. Maybe I’ll never figure out how to make all this work. And that... that fucking kills me."

Blanca’s breath caught as she saw the sheer depth of his self-doubt. He was looking for validation, for some sign that he wasn’t completely broken. But he wasn’t asking for sympathy. He wasn’t asking her to fix him.

He was simply looking for someone who understood.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he continued, his voice quivering. “I don’t know how to make it all work. The media only makes everything worse, and I can’t quiet the dark thoughts in my head.

Maybe I’m just not meant to have it all. I don’t have that… balance. That ability to chase what I want without falling apart. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t.”

He paused, swallowing hard. The sadness in his eyes was raw, as if admitting it to someone else made it feel even more real. “I want a family, Blanca. I’ve told you before, but I need you to understand—it’s not just about having kids. It’s about finding something real. Something... home.”

He looked down for a moment, then back up at her, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “I want someone who’s there when I come home from a road trip. A smile on their face like they’ve missed me. I want to walk into an apartment that feels warm, where I can just collapse and know I’m not alone.”

A distant look crossed his face, and he spoke softer now, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “I want weekends spent doing nothing but lying on the couch, cuddling. I want to wake up next to someone. I want to feel like I’m part of something that’s mine. And yeah... I want the crying baby, the sleepless nights, the chaos. Because I’m so tired of the emptiness, the silence that fills the space around me. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. To someone.”

His gaze drifted, softening as a faint, faraway smile tugged at the corner of his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right now, I don’t feel like I belong. Not in my career. Not in my relationships. Not in my life.”

Blanca reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on his arm, but he didn’t pull away.

“I miss my family... so much,” he said quietly. “But I can’t just go back to them. They have their own lives now. And all I have here is me.” He paused, his words lingering. “I don’t even know if I like who I’ve become… I don’t know if I like...” He hesitated, as if admitting something he wasn’t ready to say. “…me.”

He let out a long sigh, slumping back into the couch, looking defeated. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever get this right. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to carry all of this. And I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna be around to help me when I fall apart.”

Blanca’s chest tightened as she saw how lost he truly was, how much he was carrying, and how alone he felt. But there was one thing she needed him to understand—one thing that she needed to make clear.

“Quinn,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the ache in her heart. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to carry this alone. You’re not a failure. And you’re not broken. You’re just... human. And you’re allowed to not have all the answers right now. You’re allowed to not have it all figured out.”

His eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he seemed to soften. The rawness of his pain was still there, but the weight of it seemed to ease, if only for a moment.

Blanca squeezed his arm gently. “You’ve been there for me when I was at my lowest. I’m here for you now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Quinn didn’t respond immediately, but she could see the flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe. Or at least, the first inkling of it. His breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension drained out of him.

They sat there for a moment in silence, the weight of everything still lingering in the air, but it felt… lighter somehow. Like finally letting the words out had loosened the tight grip around his chest.

Then, Blanca exhaled, clapped her hands together, and announced, “Alright. Now that we’ve had our big, dramatic breakthrough moment—I’m sending your ass to therapy.”

Quinn groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” She crossed her arms. “You just hit rock bottom on your living room couch, and I am not doing this every week. I’m putting you in professional hands.”

Quinn gave her a flat look. “I am not going to therapy.”

Blanca raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember a certain someone forcing me to go when I was a complete disaster. Ring any bells?”

“That was different,” he muttered, but he refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh, it was so different,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “I was spiraling, you were worried, you made me go, and—shockingly—it actually helped.” She nudged him. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Quinn groaned again, flopping back against the couch. “I hate you.”

Blanca grinned. “Love you too, buddy. Now, I’m gonna find you a good therapist, and if you try to fight me on it, I will drag you there myself.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, saving your life.” She stood, stretching her arms above her head. “Now, do you want to order takeout or do I have to force you to eat something, too?”

Quinn huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus, you’re relentless.”

Blanca smirked. “Damn right.”

For the first time that night, there was something close to a smile on Quinn’s face. Maybe he wasn’t completely okay yet—maybe he was still drowning in all of it—but at least he wasn’t alone in it. And, for now, that was enough.

– 

Blanca was laying on the couch, lazily flipping through her phone while Quinn sat on the other end, his leg still propped up on a pillow. It had been a few weeks since his breakdown, and though things weren’t magically perfect, she could see a difference. Therapy was helping—not that he’d ever admit it—but she saw it in the way he actually talked to her now instead of shutting down. The way he put in effort.

And apparently, the way he now had homework from his therapist.

“So,” Quinn said, clicking his pen open. “I need a hobby.”

Blanca raised an eyebrow. “You don’t already have one?”

“Reading doesn’t count, apparently.” He rolled his eyes. “I need to do something outside of my apartment.”

She smirked. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Quinn shot her a look before flipping open the notebook on his lap. “Anyway. I have to pick five hobbies to try. And since you’re the reason I’m in therapy, I’ve decided you’re doing them with me.”

Blanca blinked and sat up quickly. “Excuse me?”

He leaned back against the couch, smirking. “Payback.”

“That’s not how this works.”She groaned. 

“That’s exactly how this works.”

She squinted at him. “So what, I just have to go along with whatever you pick?”

“Yup.” He grinned as he wrote Hobby List at the top of the page.

Blanca sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you make me do something ridiculous like…I don’t know, bird watching, I’m out.”

Quinn snorted but ignored her as he tapped the pen against his chin. “Alright. First up… bowling.”

She made a face. “Bowling?”

“It’s easy and I can still do it one-handed.” He lifted his injured hand slightly. “Therapist approved.”

She hummed. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. What’s next?”

Quinn scribbled down another one. “Dancing.”

Blanca grinned. “Oh my God. You’re serious?”

“Yes.” He exhaled. “I suck at it, and every time I get invited to a wedding or some fancy event, I just stand there like an idiot while everyone else has fun.”

Blanca smirked at his discomfort. “So you want to learn?”

“Yes.” He shot her a look. “But only if you suffer through it with me.”

She shook her head, laughing. “This might be the most shocking thing I’ve ever learned about you.”

“Glad I can keep things interesting,” he said with a flat voice without looking up from his notebook.

Still grinning, Blanca watched as he moved on to the third hobby.

“Okay… number three… biking.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You do realize you have an injury, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. But my legs work fine. And my therapist said low-impact cardio would be good.”

She hummed. “Alright, I’ll allow it.”

Quinn shook his head, smiling as he scribbled down the fourth one.

“Pottery.”

“Pottery.”

Blanca blinked. “Wait, like… pottery pottery?”

“Yup.”

She stared at him. “You, Mr. Captain Serious, want to play with clay?”

He shrugged. “Could be fun.” Then he glanced up at her, a slow, almost teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Plus, I wouldn't mind getting my hands a little dirty.”

Blanca’s brain short-circuited.

For a second, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Quinn never flirted. At least, not like that. His version of charm had always been quiet, subtle—more awkward than smooth. But this? This was dangerously close to an actual line.

She squinted at him. “Okay. Who are you?”

He grinned, all smug and amused. “What?”

“You just—you never flirt. Like, ever.”

Quinn leaned back, tapping the pen against his chin. “Maybe therapy’s helping me relax a little.”

Blanca huffed, crossing her arms. “Great. Now I’ve got to deal with flirty Quinn?”

“Maybe.”

She groaned. “I take back everything. You can quit therapy.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he wrote down the last hobby.

“Okay, last one… rock collecting.”

Blanca let out a loud laugh, dramatically placing a hand to her forehead.  “You were doing so well.”

“This is gonna be fun! We can do it while we hike!”

Blanca shot him a disbelieving look. “I should’ve known this was a trap. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut that night at Bella’s birthday. And now, look where that’s got me.”

“But it’s too late now, Blan. You can’t just unfriend me after seven years.” He said with a grin—enjoying himself far too much for Blanca’s liking.

"Ughhh..." Blanca groaned, flopping back onto the couch, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

But despite her complaints, she couldn’t help but smile. Quinn was trying. He was pushing himself, even if it meant dragging her along for the ride.

And, as much as she hated to admit it… maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

—

The car hummed softly as it rolled down the dimly lit streets, the evening air just crisp enough to make Quinn turn up the heat a little. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other drumming lazily against his thigh. Blanca sat in the passenger seat, her legs tucked up slightly, scrolling through her phone while the soft tunes of whatever playlist Quinn had thrown on played in the background.

Blanca smirked, glancing over at him. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with this whole dance lesson thing.”

Quinn scoffed, eyes fixed on the road. “Psychologist’s orders.”

“I mean, I get it,” she continued, “but out of all the hobbies in the world, waltzing still feels like a stretch for you.”

Blanca already knew the real reason behind Quinn’s decision, but she never imagined he’d actually go through with booking a dance lesson. Still, she could see why he’d choose this. Quinn was a maximalist—and a terrible dancer. Quiet, awkward, and never fully comfortable in big social settings, especially at weddings where he always felt out of place. He hated looking stupid and dreaded being the guy just standing there while everyone else had fun. So, naturally, when it came to picking a hobby, he had to choose something that would make him better. Always about improving, even in the most unexpected ways. Classic pro athlete with an ego to match.

“Listen,” he sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel, which somehow caught Blanca’s attention. Did he always have such long, nice fingers?! “I’ve been to, like, five weddings in the past year, and I have two more coming up. Ever seen a guy just standing awkwardly by the dance floor, sipping whiskey and nodding to the music? That’s me, Blan!”

She laughed. “So what, you’re learning to dance to become the life of the party now? Planning to sweep some ladies off their feet with those killer moves of yours?”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “No, I just don’t want to look like an idiot. And if I ever have a wedding of my own, I should probably know how to dance, right?”

“Ohh, now we are talking,” Blanca sing-songed, shifting in her seat. “Tell me, what’s the dream Hughes wedding looking like?”

Quinn hesitated, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, obviously, Luke and Jack would be there. Probably causing some kind of disaster.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Blanca said. “I give them ten minutes before one of them spills something on the bride.”

“Five minutes,” Quinn corrected. “And that’s being generous.”

Blanca cackled, throwing her head back. “Okay, what else?”

Quinn paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. Something simple. Family, close friends. Good food, good music. No gimmicks. Just… nice. And probably in Michigan.”

Blanca hummed in thought, staring out the window. “That sounds nice.”

Quinn glanced at her quickly before focusing back on the road. “What about you?”

She shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Something similar. I don’t really have family to invite… just friends, I guess. After everything that happened, I don’t really keep in touch with them anymore.”

Quinn’s grip tightened on the wheel for just a moment. He recognized that tone—the quiet sadness she tried to mask with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, that’s true," he replied softly, his voice light but carrying an unspoken understanding. "But obviously, I’ll be there!"

Blanca shot him a teasing grin, brushing off the sadness as though it had never been there. "Oh? You’re assuming you’ll be invited?"

"Blanca, I’ve survived hours of The Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl, and Pretty Little Liars—all because you forced me to. After enduring that emotional chaos with you, you better invite me to your wedding, or I swear I’ll show up uninvited like one of those dramatic plot twists you love so much."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Fine, fine, you’re in. But only if you promise not to let Jack and Luke ruin everything."

Quinn huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that’s impossible. But I’ll try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Blanca sighed dramatically. "God, imagine us at our weddings, actually dancing like we know what we’re doing."

"Miracles do happen," Quinn deadpanned.

Blanca elbowed him, giggling. "Shut up. You’re going to be so sappy at your wedding, I just know it."

Quinn smirked. "And you’re gonna cry. Like, full-on ugly cry."

"Obviously," she said without hesitation. "That’s a given."

Blanca glanced at Quinn, and they both erupted into laughter. After a beat, Quinn casually added, "If I ever get married, though... I still have no idea who I’d pick for my best man."

Blanca blinked, surprised. "What? Why not?"

Quinn sighed, shaking his head. "It’s not that simple. Luke and Jack have been fighting over it for years. And it’s been more than a year since I had a girlfriend, Blan. But they’re still at it, like it’s some weird competition, and I’m just stuck in the middle."

Blanca raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting to something more knowing. "That sounds like a nightmare."

"It really does," Quinn muttered. "I just don’t know how I’m supposed to pick."

Blanca drummed her fingers on her thighs, pretending to be deep in thought. "Well, if you’re stuck, I think you should just name me your best woman."

Quinn blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... what?"

"Seriously," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Who else has stuck by your side since you moved here? Who stayed by you when you were grumpy after bad games? Who tolerated your terrible taste in books? Plus, I’m the only one who can keep Luke and Jack from burning the place down."

Quinn stared at her for a beat, then chuckled. "You know what? You’ve got a point. You’d probably be the only one who can handle those two when they are together. But my taste in books is amazing, just so you know."

Blanca rolled her eyes, letting his last comment slide. "Then it’s settled. I’ll be your best woman."

Quinn grinned, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You’re officially my best woman. But you better keep my brothers in check."

Blanca gave a mock salute. "Oh, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about it. I know them well enough to blackmail them into submission."

Quinn was taken aback for a moment, then snapped his head back and laughed heartily. "Sometimes even I’m afraid of you. You crazy latina," he said with a grin. "Although, I’ll need one more favor..."

"Oh, what now?" she teased.

"You have to let me play my sad country playlist at my wedding," he said, completely serious.

Blanca stared at him in disbelief. "What? No way, Quintin! You can’t be serious."

"Those are my favorite songs, Blanca," he said with a slight pout.

"Nope," she shot back firmly. "You’re not subjecting people to that. Your wedding isn’t a sad country song marathon."

Quinn groaned, but there was a grin on his face. "Fine. You win. But I’m still playing one country song."

"Deal," Blanca said, holding up a finger. "One country song. The rest of your playlist better be happy!"

They grinned at each other as Quinn pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio, the warm glow of the building’s lights spilling onto the pavement. He killed the engine and turned to look at her with a lazy smirk.

"Ready to make fools of ourselves?"

Blanca grinned. "Always."

And with that, they stepped out into the chilly evening, side by side, just as they always had been.

—

The sleek, modern apartment felt unusually quiet when Blanca returned home from her first week back at work. The hum of her computer screen, the soft click of her mouse, and the occasional buzz of her phone were constant reminders that life had to go on. But the first week back after an extended break, especially one spent by Quinn’s side during his recovery, had been draining. It didn’t help her mood that she was still sore from their dance lesson last week. Her legs were killing her, and her job was a pain in the ass.

Her graphic design clients were patient but demanding, and the pace at the office felt overwhelming after so many weeks of focusing solely on Quinn. Now, though, he was getting better. And she found herself overwhelmed with the weight of the world outside their little bubble.

Blanca shut the door behind her as she entered the apartment. The cool marble floors, the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, and the soft lighting all seemed to create the same polished sense of calm. Quinn was on the couch, propped up with a cushion, his hand still in a brace but his mood lighter than it had been in weeks.

He was scrolling through his phone when she walked in, looking up with a smile as he noticed her tired expression.

“How was your week?” he asked, pushing himself up a little to sit straighter.

Blanca let out a long, exhausted sigh and tossed her bag onto the side chair. “Crazy. I didn’t think I’d miss the quiet of this apartment so much until I went back to work. I swear, I don’t remember my clients being that demanding.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “But you're good at what you do, right?”

“I am, but it’s the pace,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It’s not like when I could just...take a break and work on other things. I’ve been caught up in designs for days, and the deadlines are starting to stack.” She threw herself onto the couch beside him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed time away from all of it.”

Quinn shifted, turning his phone face down. He’d always been someone who showed his appreciation through actions—whether it was doing something for her or offering little gestures of thanks. But today, he felt like he needed to put things into words, something he rarely did. And for some reason, now seemed like the right time.

“I get it,” he said softly, giving her a sympathetic look. “But listen, you’ve been carrying a lot lately, haven’t you?”

Blanca paused, turning her head toward him. There was something in his voice—something different—that made her pause. Normally, Quinn would have given a teasing remark or distracted her with a joke. But today, his tone was serious, sincere.

“I’ve been carrying a lot of things for a while,” she admitted quietly. “And this week felt like a reminder of how hard it can be sometimes.”

Quinn smiled, but it wasn’t the teasing smile she was used to. This was soft, almost apologetic. “I know it’s not easy…And hey, I’ve been doing better, right?” He paused, then added, his words measured, “I thought we could take the weekend and get out of here for a bit. Go hiking.”

Blanca blinked, surprised. “Hiking?” she said, her voice full of disbelief. “You’re seriously asking me to go hiking?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but the underlying sincerity in his voice was clear. “You’ve been working hard all week, and I’ve been stuck in this apartment. You could use a change of scenery.” His eyes held a mischievous twinkle, but there was something more genuine beneath it now. “Besides, I think you owe me. You’ve been forcing me to go to therapy and actually do the things on the hobby list. I deserve a little payback.”

Blanca stared at him, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “You're trying to get me out of the apartment to go on a hike as payback for forcing you to go to therapy?”

Quinn’s grin softened, and he leaned back into the couch, giving her a more open, vulnerable look. “Exactly. But, honestly, it’s also a way for me to thank you.”

She tilted her head, surprised by the shift in his tone. “Thank me? For what?”

He met her gaze, his eyes holding hers for a beat too long. “For being here. For everything you’ve done. You didn’t have to take all that time off to be with me. You could’ve stayed at work, kept your routine, but instead, you were here, making sure I didn’t lose it completely. I know it wasn’t easy. I know I was snappy at times. And I don’t say it enough, but I’m grateful. More than you’ll ever know, Blanca.”

Blanca felt her breath catch in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. Quinn was the type of guy who showed his appreciation through small, silent gestures rather than words. But here he was, actually saying it—being vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, she was unsure of how to respond. The sincerity in his voice made the air feel thick with something unspoken between them.

Her heart fluttered, and she quickly averted her gaze. “Quinn…” she started, her voice soft. “You didn’t have to—”

But he cut her off gently, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder as he gave her a small, reassuring squeeze. “I wanted to. I know I’m not great at talking about this stuff, but I appreciate you. I really do.”

Blanca’s pulse quickened, the unexpected tenderness in his voice making her feel something she wasn’t prepared for. She had always seen Quinn as her friend—her best friend, even—but there was something in the way he was looking at her now, something deeper, that made her pause.

To deflect the unexpected intensity of the moment, she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if this whole hockey thing doesn’t work out, you could always become a therapist. You’ve got the touch.”

Quinn’s lips curved into a teasing smile, but there was still that warmth in his gaze. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, “I mean it, Blan. You’ve been a real lifesaver.”

Blanca swallowed, her heart still racing. She tried to shake off the strange new feeling creeping up on her, but when Quinn's hand shifted slightly, massaging her shoulders with his good hand, she froze for a moment. The warmth of his touch made her pulse quicken, and she instinctively tensed before forcing herself to relax.

It was nothing like the drunken kiss they’d shared years ago, that awkward, sibling-like kiss after the Vancouver Chucks Christmas party, where they’d both laughed it off as a mistake. No, this felt different. More…real. As if the tension between them had shifted into something else entirely.

His hand was gentle, massaging the stress from her shoulders, but his touch felt heavier somehow. She caught her breath, feeling a flutter of heat run through her veins, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“Okay, okay, you’re good at this,” she finally said, her voice a little breathless, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Quinn.”

Quinn smirked but kept his touch gentle. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

But something in his eyes held her there, and Blanca, despite herself, couldn’t look away..

—

Blanca adjusted the straps of her backpack and exhaled, glaring at the uneven dirt path ahead. The towering evergreens were picturesque, the crisp mountain air refreshing, and the sunlight filtering through the branches was nothing short of beautiful. If it weren’t for the possibility of bugs crawling on her at this very moment, she might have admitted that this wasn’t completely terrible.

But there was something else making this hike harder than expected.

Or rather, someone.

Quinn walked ahead of her. His dark curls peeked out from under his cap, slightly damp from exertion, and the snug fit of his t-shirt did nothing to hide the solid muscles beneath it. His broad shoulders, strong back, and those damn thighs—thick and powerful, flexing with every step—were unfairly distracting.

Blanca swallowed.

Since when was she noticing Quinn’s thighs?

She had seen him in workout gear a million times before. Hell, he practically lived in compression shorts during the season. But out here, in the middle of the forest, in his fitted hiking gear and the sun highlighting the veins running down his strong forearms, he looked… different.

Focus, Blanca!

She shook off the thought, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. This was Quinn. Her best friend! The same guy who used to steal the last slice of pizza just to mess with her. The same guy who once kissed her at a Christmas party years ago and immediately made a face like he’d just licked a lemon, declaring they had zero chemistry.

So why the hell was she looking at him now?

Blanca gritted her teeth and picked up her pace, determined to push the thought away.

Quinn glanced back at her and smirked. “What’s with the face? You look like you’re contemplating murder.”

“Because I might be,” she shot back.

He chuckled, waiting for her to catch up. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t that bad.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Give me five minutes. I guarantee I’ll have at least two mosquito bites, and then we’ll talk.”

His smirk deepened. “I’ll personally carry you back down the mountain if that happens.”

Blanca crossed her arms. “With what? One good arm?”

Quinn grinned. “Fine. I’ll leave you for the bears.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile pulling at her lips. He looked lighter today—more like his old self. And despite her initial complaints, she had to admit… it was nice to be out here.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound being their footsteps on the trail and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Blanca was just starting to enjoy the quiet when Quinn let out a slow breath.

“Therapy’s been…interesting.”

Blanca glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at her—his gaze was focused straight ahead, his expression unreadable. It wasn’t like him to bring this up on his own.

“Yeah?” she said carefully.

He nodded, running his good hand through his hair. “I fought it at first. You know that. But…” He hesitated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Turns out, talking about your problems doesn’t make them disappear, but it does help make them feel a little less… impossible.”

Blanca softened. “That’s progress.”

Quinn shrugged, stepping over a tree root. “I guess I didn’t realize how much pressure I put on myself. How much of my life I’ve spent thinking ten steps ahead, stressing about where I’ll be in five, ten years. Whether I’ll still have a career, whether I’ll have done enough, whether I’ll—” He stopped, shaking his head as if frustrated with himself.

Blanca frowned. “Whether you’ll be enough?” she finished quietly.

Quinn halted mid-step.

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then he turned to her, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his expression.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower. “Something like that.”

Blanca exhaled, her chest tightening. “What does your therapist say about it?”

Quinn smirked, though there was no humor in it. “That I need to stop trying to control everything. That life isn’t a game where I have to plan ten plays ahead just to survive.” He let out a slow breath. “That if I keep living that way, I’m going to wake up one day and realize I never actually lived at all.”

Blanca’s stomach twisted.

“That’s… really good advice,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered. “Easier said than done, though.”

They walked a little further, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Quinn turned toward her again, tilting his head slightly.

“What about you?” he asked.

Blanca blinked. “What about me?”

He smirked. “How’s the boyfriend hunt going?”

Blanca groaned. “Jesus, Quinn.”

“What?” He laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. “You told me months ago you were finally ready to start dating. That you were past all the—” He hesitated, his voice softening. “—the stuff with your stepdad. And you wanted to find someone.”

Blanca sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m trying. I went on a couple of dates, but I don’t know. It’s hard.”

Quinn watched her carefully. “Hard how?”

She exhaled. “Hard to trust. Hard to open up. Hard to even want to put myself out there like that.”

She hesitated, then, before forcing herself to admit the real truth. “And honestly? I can’t even think about sex.”

She expected him to joke, to tease, but he didn’t. Instead, he just studied her, like he was actually listening.

“That makes sense,” he said simply. “You went through a lot, Blanca.”

She swallowed. It wasn’t often that people really acknowledged it.

“I just…” She hugged her arms around herself. “I don’t know how to move past it. How to be normal about it.”

Quinn’s gaze softened. “You are normal.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “You know what I mean.”

They stood there for a long moment. Then Quinn did something unexpected.

He reached out and, with his good hand, squeezed her shoulder gently—just enough to ground her. Just enough to remind her that he was here.

And Blanca felt it.

The warmth of his palm. The slow, comforting pressure. The way his fingers lingered for just a second too long before he pulled away.

She swallowed, her pulse skittering in her throat.

Since when did this feel different?

Since when did Quinn touching her feel like… something?

“Maybe you don’t have to force it,” Quinn murmured. “Maybe it’s not about trying to be ready all at once. Maybe it’s just about… letting things happen when they’re meant to.”

Blanca stared at him.

There was something in his voice—something careful. Something unspoken.

And suddenly, she wasn’t just noticing his thighs or his arms anymore. She was noticing the way his dark eyes softened when he looked at her. The way his lips curved ever so slightly, like he was waiting for her to say something.

She swallowed hard.

“Since when do you give such good advice?” she asked, voice a little unsteady.

Quinn smirked. “Since therapy.”

Blanca forced a laugh, but her pulse was still racing.

This was Quinn—her best friend.

So why the hell did it suddenly feel like so much more?

– 

Blanca paced back and forth in Quinn’s luxury apartment, phone pressed to her ear, her heart still racing from the hike earlier. She needed answers. She needed help.

The line barely rang twice before Bella picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Blanca didn’t even bother with pleasantries. “I think I’m going insane.”

There was a pause. “…Okay, but like, is this a normal Blanca ‘I hate humans’ kind of insane or an ‘I just committed a crime’ kind of insane? Because I need context before I react appropriately.”

Blanca groaned. “Neither! It’s—” She stopped, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s Quinn.”

Bella’s pause was even longer this time.

Then, like the absolute menace she was, she let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god.”

Blanca winced. “No. Don’t ‘oh my god’ me. That’s not—”

“You like him.” Bella’s voice was smug.

“I do not!” Blanca snapped, immediately defensive.

Bella burst out laughing. “Babe. You called me two seconds into a crisis because of him. If that’s not liking him, then what is?”

Blanca groaned again, flopping down on her bed and covering her face with a pillow. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“What’s bad about it?” Bella asked, way too delighted by this. “Quinn’s hot. He’s smart. He treats you better than any other man in this city. Oh, and let’s not forget—you’ve literally been living with him.”

Blanca groaned louder. “That’s the problem. We’ve been friends for so long, and now suddenly, I’m—” She waved her hand wildly in the air, despite the fact that Bella couldn’t see her. “Noticing things.”

Bella snorted. “Like what?”

Blanca sat up, gripping the pillow. “Like how his arms are stupidly big. Or how his thighs are just—rude. Or how he looks way too good in a freaking hiking outfit. And worst of all?”

Bella gasped dramatically. “There’s worse?”

“Yes!” Blanca hissed. “I felt something when he touched me today. And not in a ‘we’re best friends, this is totally normal’ way. In a ‘holy shit, I might be attracted to Quinn Hughes’ way.”

Bella screamed.

Blanca immediately pulled the phone away from her ear. “Jesus, Bella, calm down!”

“I KNEW IT!” Bella howled. “I CALLED THIS YEARS AGO! BROCK! BROCK, GET OVER HERE!”

Blanca’s eyes widened in horror. “NO—DO NOT INVOLVE BROCK!”

Too late. She could already hear Bella yelling at her boyfriend, Brock Boeser, in the background.

“BABE! GUESS WHAT? BLANCA FINALLY REALIZED SHE’S IN LOVE WITH QUINN!”

“I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH QUINN!” Blanca shrieked.

Brock’s amused voice rang through the speaker. “Took her long enough.”

Blanca wanted to die.

“Bella, I swear to God,” she hissed. “If you don’t shut up, I will personally fly to your house and strangle you.”

Bella was still cackling. “Oh, babe. You know I can’t keep a secret. Why are you even telling me this?”

Blanca groaned, flopping back against the couch. “Because I thought you’d be a supportive friend and help me figure out how to stop this before it ruins everything!”

Bella’s laughter softened into something a little more sincere. “B, listen to me. There’s no stopping this. You and Quinn? It was always gonna happen.”

Blanca frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is that every single person in our friend group knew before you did,” Bella said smugly. “There were bets, Blanca.”

Blanca nearly choked. “WHAT?!”

“Oh yeah. Jack bet it would happen last year, but I said it would take you at least another hockey season. I knew you two were blind, but damn, I didn’t think it would take this long.”

Blanca was going to pass out. Or maybe throw herself off the nearest balcony.

“Bella,” she said through gritted teeth, “I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone else.”

“…Define promise.”

Blanca screamed.

—

Quinn had always loved Blanca.

Not in the way people assumed, though.

Not in a way that ever made him question things before.

It was just… Blanca. His best friend. His person. The one who had been in his life for over seven years, through every high and low, through every moment of absolute chaos and quiet. He loved her the way you love the person who knows your worst days and stays anyway. The way you love the person who never lets you drown alone.

But now?

Now, sitting next to her in this pottery class, watching the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her brows pulled together in focus, the way her lips curled in satisfaction when her hands worked the clay into a vase—he was realizing with something close to panic that he might be starting to love her in a very, very different way.

And Quinn had no idea what to do with that.

Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Blanca was his Blanca. She was the one who dragged him to therapy and made him take his healing seriously. The one who moved in with him after his injury without hesitation. The one who stood by his side even when he was at his absolute lowest. She had always been strong—so strong that sometimes Quinn felt like she carried the weight of the world, even when she didn’t have to. And he adored that about her. He adored her.

But now?

Now he was noticing things he shouldn’t be noticing.

Like the way her hair caught the light, strands shining under the warm glow of the studio.

Or how the curve of her smile made something tighten in his chest.

Or how her laugh—soft, genuine, so completely Blanca—made his entire body warm in a way he did not want to analyze.

Quinn forced himself to focus on the sad excuse for a clay bowl in front of him, trying to shove down the realization clawing its way to the surface.

Nope. Not happening. This was fine. He just needed to get through this class without doing something stupid.

Blanca, completely unaware of his spiraling, glanced over at his clay with an amused look. “Are you murdering it or shaping it?”

Quinn scowled. “It’s clay. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

She smirked, hands moving effortlessly over her own piece. “You have to be patient. You can’t just force it.”

Quinn shot her a dry look. “That sounds like my therapist's advice.”

Blanca laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. “Maybe because it is.”

And Quinn?

Yeah. He was screwed.

Because he’d never had trouble being this close to her before. Never had a problem with the way she nudged him or leaned into him when they joked around. Never once thought twice about the way she invaded his space like she belonged there.

But suddenly, all of it was different.

Suddenly, his entire body was hyper aware of her.

And when she turned to him, smiling like she always did, something inside Quinn tilted.

She must have noticed something off in his expression because her smile softened, her voice quieter when she asked, “You okay?”

Quinn swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t a lie.

But it wasn’t the full truth, either.

Because Quinn had always loved Blanca.

But now?

Now he was falling.

And for the first time in their friendship, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself.

—

Quinn was losing it.

He wasn’t the type to freak out.He played in front of thousands of people. He led a team. He had dealt with injuries, losses, and the crushing weight of expectations.

But this?

This was Blanca.

And he was freaking the hell out.

He didn’t even think—he just grabbed his phone and called the one group chat he usually muted unless absolutely necessary.

Jack 💀, Luke 🦦, Quinn 🙄

The FaceTime rang twice before Luke’s face popped up first, slightly confused but not overly concerned. “Hey, what’s up?”

Then Jack’s face joined, looking like he had just woken up from a nap, his hair a mess. “This better be good, man. I was having a dream where I won the Hart Trophy, and I swear—”

“Guys,” Quinn cut him off, voice urgent. “I think I’m in love with Blanca, and I’m going to die.”

There was silence.

Then—

“Oh, finally,” Luke said with a knowing sigh, rubbing his face.

Jack, on the other hand, howled with laughter. “Oh my God. Oh my God. This is so good.”

Quinn scowled. “How is this good? I’m spiraling! This is bad! This is—this is the worst possible—”

Jack ignored him completely, grinning as he turned to someone off-screen. “Anja, babe, get over here! Quinn’s having a crisis about Blanca.”

A muffled laugh came from Jack’s side before a voice—Anja’s, Quinn assumed—responded, “Oh, this I need to hear.”

Quinn groaned. “This is not a joke. This is—”

“You’re in love with your best friend and don’t know what to do about it?” Luke finished, unimpressed.

“Yes! Because it’s Blanca! We’ve been friends for seven years. And I—I can’t lose her over this.”

Jack smirked. “Or maybe you just finally pulled your head out of your ass and realized what literally everyone else knew would happen.”

Quinn blinked. “What?”

Luke sighed again, shaking his head. “Dude, we all knew. Our entire family knew. Her friends knew. My girlfriend knew. Hell, even Jack’s dumb ass knew—”

“Hey!” Jack cut in, offended.

Luke ignored him. “—you and Blanca were always going to end up here.”

Quinn felt his stomach drop. “No. No, that’s—”

“Yes,” Jack interrupted. “Yes, it is. You’ve been obsessed with her since, like, forever. You just convinced yourself it was some kind of special friendship love, when really, you’ve been down bad since the moment you met her.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, realizing he had nothing to argue with.

Because… maybe Jack wasn’t entirely wrong.

Luke leaned forward, eyes serious. “Quinny, listen. What’s actually freaking you out?”

Quinn let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just—I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to lose her. Blanca… she deserves everything. Someone who can show her love in every way possible. She’s been through so much, and she deserves to be cherished. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know if I can be enough.”

For once, Jack wasn’t smirking. He was quiet, watching him closely.

Luke, the annoyingly wise youngest brother, spoke first. “Quinn. The fact that you’re even thinking like that? That’s why you are enough.”

Jack nodded, a rare moment of sincerity in his expression. “Dude, you’re the best guy she could ever find. And let’s be real, you already show her love in every way. You just didn’t realize it.”

Quinn swallowed. “But what if—”

“Quinny,” Luke interrupted. “You love her. She loves you. You guys are just stupid.”

Jack grinned. “Exactly. And honestly? This is way more fun for me than watching Luke be disgustingly in love with Thea.”

From Luke’s side, a voice—Thea’s—called out, “I heard that, Jack!”

Jack only cackled.

Quinn sighed, shaking his head. “So, what do I do?”

Jack leaned back, looking smug. “Oh, you’re sooo far gone, dude. Just accept it.”

Luke smiled, softer this time. “And stop thinking about what she deserves and start realizing you already give it to her.”

Quinn barely had a second to process his brothers’ words before another voice chimed in from the background—Thea’s, calm and knowing.

"Once, a wise man told me: if you start believing you only deserve love and kindness if you prove it every day, it’ll eat you alive. Maybe you should listen to this."

Quinn’s stomach dropped. Because he had said that.

To Thea.

Around a year ago, when she was struggling with self-doubt, convinced that because she was older than Luke, because she had baggage, because she wasn’t perfect, she somehow had to earn the love Luke gave her so freely. Quinn had told her those words because, to him, it was so obvious.

Now?

Hearing them said to him felt like getting hit in the chest.

The call went quiet for a second. Even Jack didn’t say anything—he just watched, eyebrow raised, like he was waiting for Quinn to get it.

Luke, leaned forward. “You got this Quinn.”

Quinn exhaled sharply. His head was spinning.

Thea spoke again, softer this time. “You told me that, because you saw my worth so clearly, Quinn. Why is it so hard to see your own?”

Quinn opened his mouth, then shut it.

Because it was different when it was him. Because Blanca deserved so much, and he—

Oh.

Oh.

Maybe… maybe they had a point.

Maybe he had been doing to himself exactly what Thea had done back then—convincing himself that love had to be something he earned instead of something he just deserved.

Maybe Blanca already knew who he was and still chose to be here, just like Luke had chosen Thea, not because she had to prove anything, but because he wanted to.

Jack clapped his hands together, shattering the silence. “Well. I think that’s enough wisdom for one night. Now, Quinn, stop panicking. And if you’re still freaking out, go make out with Blanca and deal with it later.”

Jack barely had time to smirk before there was a loud thwack from his side of the call.

“OW! Anja!”

Anja’s voice came through, unimpressed. “That’s what you get for being an idiot.”

Luke snorted. Thea chuckled under her breath. Quinn just sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

Jack grumbled, “You guys are so ungrateful for my genius advice.”

“Jack, I will personally hit you again if you open your mouth one more time,” Thea deadpanned.

Jack scoffed. “Oh, shut up, Miss. Old Enough to be His MILF.” But then he seemed to reconsider. Pretty quickly. “…Actually, you know what? I will shut up. You’re in the next room with Luke, which is way too close for comfort. And you’re on your period, which means you’re even more bloodthirsty than usual.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

Thwack.

“OW! Seriously?!” Jack yelped.

Luke sighed dramatically. “Dude, you had that one coming.”

Thea’s voice was flat. “Let’s see if you still have something to say after I really hit you.”

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head, but for the first time since making this call, he wasn’t completely spiraling. His brothers were annoying as hell. His family was loud, chaotic, and absolutely relentless.

But maybe… that was exactly what he needed.

—

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of Molho de Carne, the savory Portuguese beef stew that Quinn had once taught Blanca to make, and now, it was her turn to prepare it for him. Quinn stood at the counter, his hand in a brace, leaning against it with his weight shifted slightly forward, his body still restless. Blanca moved around him, her movements fluid and practiced as she worked with a quiet focus, but Quinn couldn’t help but watch her. It was hard to ignore the shift that had happened between them these past few weeks—the quiet, unspoken change that lingered after each day they spent together.

“So,” Quinn began, his voice light but laced with that dry humor they both loved, “how’s the stew looking this time? You’re not planning to ruin it again, are you?”

Blanca shot him a playful, sideways grin. “It’ll be perfect this time,” she replied, but the teasing glint in her eyes matched his. “Unlike your ‘amazing’ attempt last time. Remember that?”

Quinn scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “That was your fault, not mine. You distracted me with all your... fangirling over Matt Rempe. The New York Rangers, Blan. Really?”

Blanca snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. I can’t help that the only thing I enjoy in hockey is hot guys.” She flashed him a teasing grin before continuing. “And I know you’re not that guy, Quinn. But even you have to admit—Matt Rempe is eye candy.”

Quinn let out a short laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. He’d be lying if he said a bit of jealousy didn’t flicker through him, but deep down, he knew Blanca was just messing with him. “Yeah, that’s why you love being at every home game, right? Who are you watching there?”

His voice was casual, but there was a hint of challenge in it. He knew he was pushing the limits a bit, hoping for something, maybe a reaction. A glimpse of how much she cared—or didn’t.

Blanca’s grin faltered just for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, you know, just the hockey players,” she said with a shrug, but there was a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “They’re all pretty easy on the eyes, don’t you think? I just get lost in their talent... mostly.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, leaning a little closer as he crossed his arms. “Talent, huh? Or is it something else you’re getting lost in?”

Blanca’s eyes flickered to his, and the playful energy between them shifted, crackling in the air. She could feel the change, that thin line between friendship and something... more. Something neither of them had fully explored before.

She took a step back, trying to maintain the banter, but her heart was racing. “I’m just saying, I’m all about appreciating good looks and skill. What’s the harm?”

“Well, for one,” Quinn said, stepping closer, “I’ve been pretty patient with you, watching you gawk over every ‘hot’ player in the league. But now? I’m starting to think maybe I’ve been the one you should be watching.”

Blanca let out a quiet laugh, though her pulse picked up. “Oh? You think you’re the one who should be the focus of my attention now?”

“Maybe. I’m just saying—I deserve a little more of your attention than some guy who’s three years younger than you.”

Blanca’s breath caught in her throat, surprised by his sudden boldness, but she couldn’t deny the flutter in her chest. She tilted her head, meeting his gaze with a playful challenge. “You think you deserve my attention, huh? What’s so special about you?”

Quinn smirked, his eyes darkening slightly as he took another step closer. “Well, for one, I’m the one who taught you how to make this stew. So maybe you should appreciate that, too.”

Blanca’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she crossed her arms, leaning just a bit into him. “Hmm, you might be right,” she said, voice soft but laced with flirtation. “But I’m also thinking that I’ve learned a lot from you in other areas. Like... how to handle your ‘world-class’ attitude.”

Quinn’s lips twitched, a mix of amusement and something more dangerous in his gaze. “World-class, huh? Maybe I’ll show you what else I can handle.”

Before she could respond, he was there, stepping so close that there was barely an inch of space between them. His breath was warm against her skin, and she could feel the tension between them rise, a pulse of electricity in the air.

Blanca swallowed, suddenly aware of how much she didn’t want to pull away. Her heart raced, her body instinctively leaning into him. The playful teasing had been fun, but this? This felt like something else entirely.

“Quinn—” she started, but her words faltered when he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was brief, just a taste, but it sent a shock through her, and before she could think, her hands were already at his chest, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, his lips more insistent now, and in an instant, all the unsaid things between them—the years of friendship, the quiet nights, and the fleeting touches—collapsed into this one moment. Despite the brace, his injured hand found its way to her waist, gripping her with a need that matched her own, as if he couldn’t quite control the surge of heat between them.

Blanca didn’t fight it. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the dark, tousled mess of his hair. He smelled like pine and something deeper, a hint of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of fresh air from their earlier walk they did together in the park. His body was solid against hers, the broadness of his shoulders and the lean muscle beneath his T-shirt undeniable. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingertips as their kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. His lips were soft but insistent, moving against hers with a hunger that startled her—he wasn’t holding back, not now.

Blanca let out a soft gasp when his lips left hers, his breath harsh in the space between them. He was leaning in again, his eyes dark, his expression a mixture of need and disbelief at what they’d both let slip past the point of no return.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before pulling her into another kiss, this time with even more intensity, more urgency. It was as if he couldn’t get enough—like he was starved for this, for her. His lips were demanding and unrelenting, pulling her deeper into the storm they’d started.

Blanca lost herself in it, her hands gripping his shirt, her body pressing into him with the same desperate energy. 

—

The air in the kitchen was still thick with the remnants of their kiss, but both Quinn and Blanca knew they needed a break. They pulled apart, a silent agreement passing between them as they finished the rest of their dinner, the conversation light and awkward, avoiding what had just happened.

After they cleared the table, neither of them spoke about what they’d just shared. But the tension between them was undeniable—like an electric current that ran just under the surface.

Blanca had barely set foot in the living room when Quinn reached for her again, his fingers grazing her wrist gently but insistently, pulling her back toward him. The kiss was immediate, their mouths finding each other with an intensity that had been building for months, maybe longer. She melted into it, her body responding in ways she didn’t understand, but neither of them pulled back this time.

Without thinking, they moved together—Blanca letting Quinn lead her toward his bedroom, his hands never leaving her as he guided her. They stumbled inside, a breathless mess of urgency and anticipation. The door clicked shut behind them, the room suddenly feeling too small, the space between them shrinking with every kiss, every touch.

“Blanca,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was racing. “We don’t have to… I mean, if you’re not ready, we can stop. I’d never—” He swallowed, searching her face. “I just want you to feel safe.”

Blanca’s eyes softened, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as if trying to ground herself in the moment. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze tracing the lines of his face—the familiar curve of his jaw, the concern etched into his brow. He was so careful with her, always had been. And that was exactly why this felt different.

“Quinn,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re not that man. You’ve never been that man in my life.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “What happened… it’s still there, yeah. It probably always will be. But you? You’re the one who’s made me believe I can let someone in. That I want to.”

His breath hitched, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers. “I just need to know you’re sure,” he whispered. “Because I want you, but only if it’s right for you.”

Blanca smiled, a small, real thing that broke through the tension. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “With you, I’m sure.”

“Before we… I need to know. Are there lines for you? Things you don’t want, or—” He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “I’d never hurt you. You know that. But I need to hear it from you.”

Blanca’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. For a second, the past flickered behind her eyes—her stepfather’s shadow, the years of locking herself away from trust, from touch. But Quinn wasn’t him. Quinn was the one who’d sat with her through nightmares, who’d waited patiently until she was ready to let him closer. She exhaled, steadying herself, and met his gaze.

“No hardcore stuff,” she said, her voice clear despite the flush on her cheeks. “Nothing too rough—none of that choking shit. That’s… that’s a no-go for me.” She swallowed, then softened, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. “But I—” She hesitated, glancing away for a beat before looking back at him, a spark of heat in her eyes. “I actually like a little dominance. A little… push, you know? When it’s you, it feels good. Safe.”

Quinn’s eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into something warmer, more intent. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, testing the waters. “You want me to take the lead?”

Blanca nodded, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his hair. “Yeah. I never thought I’d feel that way after everything. I thought I’d always be too scared to let go, to want someone to… to lead, you know? But with you—” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “With you, it’s okay. I trust you. So if you want to, you can. I want you to.”

That was all the permission he needed. Something shifted in Quinn’s eyes—respect still there, but now laced with a hunger he’d kept reined in for too long. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was deeper, fiercer, his hands sliding up her back to pull her flush against him. She gasped into it, her body arching instinctively, and he took the cue, guiding her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against her lips, his tone a mix of command and care as he pressed her down onto the mattress. His hands were firm but not forceful, one sliding under her shirt to grip her waist while the other braced beside her head. “You say stop, we stop. Always.”

“I know,” she breathed, her hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion. “But don’t stop yet.”

The room hummed with tension, the kind that had been simmering between them for years, now boiling over. Quinn stood just inches from Blanca, towering over her with a presence that seemed to fill the space between them. His tall frame loomed, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as they held hers, searching for any trace of hesitation. He reached out, his hand firm under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. The air felt thick, charged, as if the very world was holding its breath.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, laden with a quiet command that sent a shiver through her. His thumb brushed her lips, tracing the outline of her mouth in a way that made her pulse race.

Blanca swallowed, the words barely a whisper as she met his gaze. “Completely.”

That was all he needed. His control slipped away, replaced by a raw hunger that surged between them. He closed the distance, crashing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was all heat and fire. His lips moved hard and deliberate, as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t claim her fast enough. His tongue swept in, tasting her, savoring her, and she melted into the kiss, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

The world around them seemed to vanish—there was nothing but the feel of his body against hers, the burn of his kiss, the heat building between them like a slow storm. His groan rumbled into her mouth, sending a shiver down her spine. He deepened the kiss, tilting her head to take more, his teeth grazing her lower lip before soothing it with a slow, wet press that had her gasping against him.

Minutes passed in a haze of kissing—hard, then soft, then hard again—until Blanca’s lips were swollen, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She pulled back, her chest rising and falling with every shaky breath, and Quinn’s eyes darkened, his expression filled with a fierce desire that only intensified the heat pooling in her core.

“This needs to go,” he muttered, his voice rough, each word filled with urgency as his hands slid to the hem of her sweater. He yanked it over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside like it was nothing, and then his hands slid down the sides of her body, pausing at the clasp of her bra. With a quick flick of his fingers, he released it, and the garment fell away. Her breasts spilled free, and for a moment, Quinn just stared, his gaze devouring her as his chest rose and fell with the effort to stay in control. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, sending a wave of heat through her that made her arch into his touch. The sensation was almost too much, yet she craved more. He squeezed gently, then firmer, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers, watching her face, savoring the way her breath hitched. His mouth followed the path of his hands, trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck. He kissed and sucked at her collarbone, and then lower, pausing just above her breast to look at her with a teasing smirk before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Blanca moaned, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. Quinn switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, nipping and sucking until she was squirming beneath him, her body trembling with need.

“Your turn,” she panted, her voice husky, her breath ragged as she pushed at his chest.

Quinn hesitated, letting her take control for just a moment, standing back as she reached for his shirt with eager hands. Her fingers were shaking slightly, betraying her nerves, but her eyes were filled with determination as she yanked it off, revealing his broad chest, the muscled lines of his abdomen, and the faint scars that told of battles fought and won on the ice. Her fingers traced over his chest, the heat of his skin sending sparks of desire shooting through her. She ran them over his abs, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath her touch before they dipped lower, her fingers halting at his jeans.

She hesitated there, but Quinn gave a slight nod, his voice a low rasp. “Go ahead.”

Her fingers moved with growing confidence, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and her breath caught in her throat. She let her gaze travel over him for a moment, taking him in, her lips parting as a sly smile curved her mouth.

She wrapped her hand around him slowly, stroking him with tentative, deliberate movements, testing the weight of him in her palm. Quinn’s head tipped back with a rough exhale, his jaw clenched as he groaned, his hands covering hers to guide her pace, tightening her grip as he hissed in pleasure.

For a moment, he let her play, savoring the feel of her hands on him, but then he pulled her hand away, his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss that was filled with urgency. His body pressed her back toward the bed, and she complied, lying down as Quinn climbed over her, his weight sinking onto her, keeping her pinned beneath him.

He didn’t strip her jeans off just yet—he was in no rush. Instead, he pressed himself between her thighs, still clad in denim, and ground his hips against hers, the rough fabric creating a friction that sent shocks of pleasure racing through her. She gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him closer, desperate for more. Quinn smirked against her mouth, his movements deliberate and slow, grinding his hips harder against hers, teasing them both with the sweet, slow burn of desire.

“Gonna take these off now,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear before he kissed her again—deep, sloppy, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he sat back slightly, his hands sliding down to peel her jeans and underwear down her legs, leaving her bare beneath him.

Blanca’s body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Quinn settled back between her thighs, skin on skin now, and he slid a hand down her stomach, pausing just above where she wanted him. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire as he hovered just above the place she ached for him most.

“Tell me what you need,” he growled, his voice a low rumble.

She gasped, her hips bucking toward his hand, desperate. “Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice strained, raw with need.

Without hesitation, he obeyed. His fingers slid lower, circling her clit with slow, deliberate circles, the pressure firm but tender, each stroke sending a spark of heat racing through her. She was already wet, and Quinn groaned at the feeling, slipping one finger inside her, then two, curling them deep as his thumb kept working her.

“Fuck, Quinn—” she moaned, her back arching, her hands clutching his shoulders as her body shook with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her. He didn’t stop, increasing the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out, deeper and harder, his eyes locked on her face as she unraveled beneath him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with pride, kissing her again as she gasped and moaned against him. “Let me feel you.”

Quinn’s lips lingered just above hers, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed her again, deep and consuming, his tongue tangling with hers in a way that left her dizzy. His fingers were still inside her, two thick digits pumping steadily, curling just right to hit that spot that made her toes curl. Blanca’s hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pressure, and he smirked against her mouth, pulling back to watch her writhe beneath him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, voice low and rough with approval, his free hand sliding up her body to cup her breast again. He squeezed, thumb flicking her nipple, then pinched it lightly, rolling it between his fingers as she gasped, the dual sensation of his hand between her legs and on her chest lighting her up. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes—God, yes,” she moaned, her head tipping back into the pillow, hands gripping his shoulders as he worked her higher. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, the slick sound of her arousal filling the room, and then he added a third, stretching her just enough to make her breath catch. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles, and she shuddered, her thighs clamping around his wrist.

“Stay still,” he ordered, his tone firm as his other hand left her breast to grip her hip, pinning her to the mattress. He leaned down, kissing her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before trailing his lips lower. His mouth found her breast again, tongue swirling around her nipple, then closing over it with a firm suck that sent a jolt straight to her core. He grazed it with his teeth, teasing, and she whimpered, her body arching despite his hold.

“Quinn—fuck, I’m close,” she panted, her voice breaking as the heat coiled tighter inside her. He didn’t let up—his fingers curled harder, thrusting with a rhythm that was almost punishing, his thumb relentless on her clit. His mouth moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, licking and sucking until her moans turned desperate, her nails digging into his skin.

“Look at me,” he commanded, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his eyes dark and piercing. “I want to see you when you come.” His voice was a low rumble, masculine and unyielding, and it pushed her closer, the weight of his stare as intense as his touch. He shifted his hand, angling his fingers deeper, pressing his palm against her clit now, grinding it with every thrust, and she couldn’t hold back.

“Quinn—” Her cry broke off as her climax hit, a sharp, overwhelming wave that had her shaking, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. Her vision blurred, body bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through her, and he kept going, drawing it out, his hand steady and unyielding until she was gasping, oversensitive and trembling beneath him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone softening as he slowed his movements, easing his fingers out of her with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. He kissed her lips, soft and lingering, then her forehead, his hand sliding up to cradle her face as she caught her breath. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her cheek, his touch tender now, grounding her as she came down.

Blanca’s chest heaved, her body still buzzing as she looked up at him, a dazed smile tugging at her lips. “You’re… really good at that,” she managed, voice shaky, and he chuckled, low and warm, pressing another kiss to her mouth before resting his forehead against hers.

Quinn’s breathing was still heavy, his hand resting lightly on Blanca’s hip as he watched her come down from her high, her cheeks flushed and eyes hazy. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender, and leaned in to kiss her softly, a quiet check-in after the intensity. Pulling back, he met her gaze, his voice low and steady. “You ready for more?”

Blanca nodded, her lips parting as she caught her breath. “Yes,” she said, then hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face. “But… I want to try something first.” She shifted, sitting up slightly, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she looked at him, vulnerable but determined.

“Anything,” Quinn said, his tone warm, encouraging, though his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. “What is it?”

She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’ve never… I want to suck you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t really know how. I—I’ve never done it, not really. Not by choice.” Her words faltered, and she took a shaky breath. “My stepfather… when he—when he hurt me, he forced me to. I hated it. It’s why I’ve never tried since. But with you… I want to. I just need you to show me.”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, a flash of anger darkening his eyes, and Blanca saw it—the way his fists clenched briefly, the muscle ticking in his cheek. She knew that look; it wasn’t aimed at her, but at the man who’d stolen so much from her. For a second, she thought he might say something, let that fury spill out, but he didn’t. He exhaled sharply, reining it in, his focus shifting back to her. This wasn’t about him—it was about her, about giving her what she needed. He reached out, cupping her face gently, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“You can tell me anything, Blanca,” he said, voice firm but soft, grounding her. “Anything you want to share, I’m here. And if you want this, I’ll make it good for you. I’ll show you—step by step. It’s your choice, always.” He paused, searching her face. “You sure?”

She nodded, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“Okay,” he said, a hint of warmth breaking through the intensity in his eyes. He shifted, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, his cock still hard and waiting. “Come here,” he beckoned, patting the space between his thighs, his tone taking on that commanding edge she liked. She crawled over, settling in front of him, and he reached for her hand, guiding it to wrap around his base. “Start slow. Just get used to it. Touch me first.”

Blanca’s fingers tightened around him, stroking tentatively, and he let out a low hum of approval. “Like that,” he said, his hand resting over hers, showing her the rhythm. “Now, when you’re ready, use your mouth. Lips first—just the tip. No rush.” His voice was steady, patient, though the heat in it betrayed how much he wanted this.

She leaned in, hesitating only a second before pressing her lips to him, soft and experimental. He groaned quietly, encouraging her, and she grew bolder, taking the head into her mouth, her tongue brushing against him. “Fuck, that’s good,” he rasped, his hand sliding into her hair, not pushing, just resting there. “Suck a little—yeah, like that. Use your tongue too.”

Blanca followed his lead, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked, her tongue swirling around him, tasting him. It was clumsy at first, unsure, but his low moans and the way his fingers tightened in her hair spurred her on. “You’re doing so fucking well,” he praised, voice rough with restraint. “Take more if you want—just what feels right. Breathe through your nose.”

She did, sliding down further, her lips stretching around him, and he guided her gently, his hand steadying her head. “Good girl,” he murmured, hips twitching slightly as she found a rhythm, bobbing slowly, her hand working what she couldn’t fit. The power of it—the way he responded, the way she controlled his pleasure—started to feel good, reclaiming something she’d thought was lost forever.

But Quinn’s breathing grew ragged, his control slipping, and he tightened his grip in her hair, voice firm. “Okay, Blanca—stop now.” She pulled back instantly, lips wet and eyes wide, and he exhaled hard, steadying himself. “I want to finish inside you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument but still soft with care. “This was perfect—better than perfect. You don’t know what you do to me. But I need you now.”

She nodded, a flush of pride mixing with anticipation as she wiped her mouth, meeting his gaze. “I liked it,” she admitted quietly, and he smiled, pulling her up to kiss her deeply, tasting himself on her lips without hesitation.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands sliding to her hips. “Ready for me?”

Quinn’s grip was iron on Blanca’s hips as he maneuvered her into position, pulling her astride him with a rough tug that left no room for hesitation. His broad frame dominated the space beneath her, muscles taut, his cock hard and pressing against her as he held her there, suspended just above him. His eyes—dark, commanding—locked onto hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re mine right now,” he said, voice low and gravelly, a statement, not a question. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” Blanca breathed, her hands braced on his chest, fingers curling into the solid muscle there. His smirk widened, a flash of masculine satisfaction, and he didn’t wait—he yanked her down, impaling her onto him in one swift, deep thrust that stole her breath. She gasped, her body stretching to take him, and he growled, a primal sound of approval as he filled her completely.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone sharp, hands clamping tighter on her hips as he started to move. He thrust up hard, setting a rhythm that was slow but forceful, each roll of his hips deliberate, claiming. “Don’t look away.” She obeyed, caught in his stare, the intensity of it pinning her as much as his hands did. His fingers dug into her skin, guiding her to ride him, lifting and dropping her with a strength that left her no choice but to follow.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotions as he watched her, taking in the way her lips parted, the flush spreading across her chest. He shifted one hand, gripping her ass to angle her just right, driving deeper, hitting that spot that made her whimper. “Move with me,” he commanded, and when she faltered, he slapped her thigh lightly—not hard, just enough to sharpen her focus. “Like that. Harder.”

Blanca moaned, her hips rocking to match his pace, and he rewarded her with a rough groan, his other hand sliding up to her breast. He squeezed, firm and possessive, thumb and finger pinching her nipple until she arched into him, a soft cry escaping her. “That’s it,” he said, voice dripping with control as he thrust up again, relentless, his gaze never wavering. “Take it. Show me you can handle me.”

Her breaths came in pants, her body trembling under his guidance, and he slid his hand between them, fingers finding her clit with precision. “You don’t come ‘til I say,” he warned, rubbing tight, slow circles that made her thighs quake, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent. She squirmed, overwhelmed, but he held her steady, his grip unyielding. “Stay with me, Blanca. Look at me.”

“Please—” she gasped, her voice breaking, and he smirked again, a glint of triumph in his eyes as he felt her tighten around him, teetering on the edge. “Not yet,” he growled, slowing his fingers just enough to keep her there, dangling, his hips snapping up with a force that shook the bed. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Quinn—let me—” she pleaded, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he relented, his tone shifting to a rough command. “Now. Come for me.” His fingers pressed harder, his thrusts deepened, and she shattered, her climax hitting with a sharp cry, her body clenching around him as she shook, eyes still locked on his.

He didn’t hold back—watching her fall apart pushed him over. With a guttural sound, he gripped her hips bruisingly tight, slamming up into her once, twice, then burying himself deep as he came, spilling inside her with a low, possessive groan. His eyes stayed on hers, fierce and unblinking, claiming her in that moment completely.

When it was over, he didn’t soften immediately—he pulled her down onto his chest, still inside her, his arms wrapping around her with a firm hold. “You did so good, Blan,” he murmured, voice quieter now but still filled with raw emotions, as he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. His hands loosened, stroking her back once, twice, a gentleness breaking through as he let her settle against him, their breaths syncing in the stillness.

The air settled around them. His breathing was slowing, his hands shifting from their earlier firmness to a softer touch, one arm wrapping securely around her waist while the other traced lazy circles along her spine. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips brushing her sweat-damp skin, and she nestled closer, her cheek resting over the steady thud of his heartbeat.

For a moment, they just lay there, the silence comfortable but charged with unspoken words. Quinn shifted slightly, tilting her face up with a gentle hand under her chin, his eyes searching hers—soft now, but still carrying that quiet strength she’d always known. 

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and warm, a thread of concern woven through it. “Everything we did… was it alright? Did I overstep anywhere?”

Blanca’s lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile as her fingers traced lightly over his chest. She met his gaze, shaking her head. “No,” she murmured. “You didn’t overstep. It was perfect.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as she searched for the right words. Then, with quiet certainty, she leaned up and kissed him—slow and tender, pouring everything she felt into it. When she pulled back, her voice was softer, more vulnerable.

“I was so afraid to admit this, but I love you, Quinn. I’ve never felt this way before—like I can just… let go and be safe. With you guiding me, making me beg… I love it. I want to be good for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering before something deeper, warmer took its place. He exhaled, a soft sound of relief and adoration, then pulled her closer, his fingers threading through her hair as he cradled the back of her head.

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering before something deeper, warmer took its place. He exhaled, a soft sound of relief and adoration, then pulled her closer, his fingers threading through her hair as he cradled the back of her head.

“Fuck, Blanca,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed her again, slow and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize the feel of her. “I love you too. More than you know.” He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. “And that’s what scared me. You’re my best friend. The most important person in my life. I was so fucking afraid of losing you, of screwing this up. But I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t just want you in my life—I want this. Us.”

His thumb brushed along her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. She smiled, a little shy now, and burrowed into the crook of his neck, breathing him in—the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a safety net.

“I’ve never wanted this with anyone else,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin. “Never thought I could. But with you… it feels right. I like when you take control. It’s… freeing.”

Quinn exhaled softly, his grip on her tightening. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I love guiding you. Watching you let go, knowing you trust me that much—it’s insanely hot.” He adjusted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over them, tucking her securely against his chest. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, I promise. But for now, just let me hold you.”

She nodded, sinking into him as his hand settled on her hip, grounding them both.

“Rest now,” he whispered, his fingers combing through her hair. “I’ve got you.”

And as she drifted off, wrapped in his arms, she knew—deep in her bones—that he truly did.

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 5

it really was a coincidence that you already had his number saved in your phone when he texted you.

jack: hey

one of your best friends, jenny, had another friend who came along with you all that night. she was a loud woman with blonde curls called anna and she was, you had now learned, engaged to a hockey player in the local nhl team. you'd never cared much for sports in general, and especially not hockey. anna was quick to catch up on that fact the morning after you met jack, when you were supposed to go out for brunch with jenny and anna happened to tag along.

the boy you were chatting to last night, jack, she had started, sipping her orange juice before continuing. you did get his name, right? he's a good friend of my fiancé, a great player too.

you had thought and hoped that she would be able to read from your uninterested expression that you wished for the conversation to end as soon as it started. however, she had not been the quickest to pick up on your hints.

i've never seen jack look at someone like that before, you should totally hit him up! he's single, you know.

you'd sure hope so, considering the things you were up to in his apartment.

you had told anna that you didn't want anything to do with him, but she had insisted; at least save his number, you never know!

jenny had agreed, going off for a moment about your (empty) love life and how you haven't really looked happy since you broke up with that boyfriend over a year ago. the whole conversation had made you nauseous, and you had eventually agreed to add his number to your contacts just to shut them up.

since then, you'd forgotten about it, until the moment he texted you. you spent about fifteen minutes trying to figure out some kind of response – what even do you say to "hey"?

you: how did you get my number? lol

you felt a little guilty right after sending it, the tone maybe a little harsh; you usually greeted people back when they texted you. but maybe it was for the best. you didn't want him to get any false hopes.

your phone pinged again just a minute later.

jack: from anna! she said you two talked abt me, that i should hit you up

jack: well, i WANTED to hit you up also. :)

it kind of scared you how quick your heart was to flutter in your chest. this was not supposed to happen. before you could even answer, yet another message appeared in the chat.

jack: you free for dinner tonight?

a man not afraid of a triple text should've excited you. instead you shook your head and typed a quick response.

you: dinner?...

jack: i want to take you out for dinner, is that okay?

you shouldn't even have considered it. you never before even considered meeting a one-night-stand again, especially not for dinner. maybe it was because the other part was never interested in it, maybe it was because you thought it was against all and any code of conduct. either way, it was just easier like that.

so why did your fingers suddenly live a life of their own? why was there a message from you saying yes to his request when you looked back down at your phone again?

he surprised you that night. you knew from the first time you met that he was a good listener – though, you had assumed it was just because he was trying to woo you enough to go home with him – but he was a great talker, too. not in the sense that he talked a lot, but in the sense that whenever he did talk, you found yourself realizing he was more complicated than you initially thought. he wasn't just trying to win you over; he was trying to let you see him, piece by piece, each one carefully chosen.

you didn't know what the procedures or rules were when it came to this kind of meeting. was it a date? was it just a pre-hookup meal? was it something more? nonetheless, you weren't surprised that the dinner ended with you following him home to his apartment.

he wasn't just good at listening and talking, but at making you feel good, too. you knew you were already walking on the fine line between a regular hookup and something else – not that you were sure what the other thing would be. friends with benefits (could you even be friends with benefits if you weren't friends to start with?), fuck buddies (is there even such a thing these days?), or something completely different?

curled up into his side with a duvet lazily thrown across your stomach, you distracted yourself from your many thoughts by drawing shapes into his chest. little stars, quirky stick figures, ugly cats. "something on your mind?" he asked, a chuckle rumbling beneath his chest at the sight of you cuddling closer to him.

"this... hockey thing," you started, gazing up at him for the first time in a long while. "you're pretty good, aren't you?"

there was a shrug of his shoulder, though his expression stayed plain. "i guess so."

"you have your own wikipedia page. and you were some kind of first pick, whatever that means." this, however, forced his lips into a grin. "that's not just pretty good. that's amazing."

"i guess so."

he yelped at the feeling of your hand slapping his chest, a groan slipping past his lips. "why didn't you tell me? when we first met?"

"you didn't seem like you cared," he said honestly, and you pushed yourself up a little on the bed to look at him better. "so i didn't think it was necessary. besides, it's a job like any other."

"i told you all about my studies, and you just said that you work with hockey!" you exclaimed, fingers forming quotation marks in the air. "that's hardly fair, and it's not a common job!"

"i was wearing a team cap! i assumed that if you knew, you'd say something!"

you merely shook your head, pausing for a few moments to just stare at him. "i'll forgive you for now," you say, puckering your lips. "for the low price of five kisses."

"taken."

the thing that surprised you the most was how much you enjoyed spending time with him, how easy it felt. he was handsome and had a sweet smile and he was a great lover, sure, but you still hadn't expected to have this good of a time with him. it was almost enough to make you spend the night.

almost.

[lowkeycasanova]

you ain't my boyfriend, i ain't your girlfriend

Based on the song "Boyfriend" by Ariana Grande & Social House

masterlist

——————————————————————————

“Do you think anyone in the friend group is dating?” Lydia inquired while you threw on an oversized shirt over your swimsuit.

You raised a brow. “I mean, Jett and Samantha.”

“I already know about them.”

"Well...no? Why?" you asked.

"I don't know why, but I feel like Vinnie and Julia have something going on."

That got your attention.

"Huh?"

"I mean, I could be wrong. I just see them together a lot it seems, so I wondered." She shrugged.

"Well-" you started. "They haven't even known each other that long."

"True. Just a thought."

You both went from your spot in the guest room across the hallway to Vinnie's room to call him downstairs.

Upon arriving, you hear laughing from two people. You didn't think anything of it until you saw Vinnie and Julia side by side on the bed, him showing her a something on his phone and she's the main one laughing.

"Hey!" Lydia greeted. "We were just trying to get everyone downstairs. Jett is firing up the grill as we speak."

"Cool, I'm sure my sister is looking for me anyways." Julia stated and got up from the foot of the bed."

She made eye contact with you and you gave her a closed mouth smile. She walked away with a little attitude in her hips and you felt your chest twist up when you saw Vinnie's eyes follow her out the room.

Why would Lydia put that thought in your head? If you hadn't already disliked the idea of them together, you surely did now.

Vinnie followed you both downstairs. Jack had planned a get together with all the friends... just because. There was even a water slide in the backyard.

These people could be so extra, but they were fun regardless.

You mingled around, talking to friends and saying hello to any new people. Every once in a while, you'd see Julia standing next to Vinnie, recording him for whatever reason. You felt yourself getting hot and didn't even realized you eyed her up and down until after.

Anyways.

A few minutes later, you met up with Evan in the backyard by the pool, a friend you met through Vinnie, but didn't know all too well yet.

"Hey!" you greeted him and brought him into a hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been good." he smiled.

"You just had a birthday right?"

"Yeah!" he smiled wider like he was happy you remembered.

"Well happy belated." you said and gave him another hug. "Sorry I couldn't be there."

"Thanks. It's cool though." he hugged you back.

You two began to catch up on things that recently happened in your lives since the last time you saw each other. Which was a while ago. He's so nice and easy to talk to. You wonder why you never really talked that much to each other before.

What you didn't know, was that Vinnie was observing the entire interaction.

He was sitting on top of the table a few feet away, talking to Jordan when seeing you with Evan started to distract him. He was looking past Jordan and subtly leaning forward to get a better look, nearly missing every other word he was saying but trying not to seem obvious.

(Refer to the picture I used)

And if looks could kill, Evan would be done for.

****

You were in the kitchen sipping on your drink when Vinnie approached you, and leaned against the counter with his arms causally across his chest.

“Hey.”

You gave him a nod back.

"What are you doing over here by yourself?"

"Got me a drink." you gestured to your glass. Sometimes you got so nervous around him that you couldn't even look him in the eye.

Vinnie glances over at the people in his line of sight and he gets a glimpse of Evan walking across the room.

"There go your boyfriend." he uttered, trying to hide that proud smirk on his face knowing he probably hit a nerve.

"Huh?" you quickly turned in his direction.

He dipped his head down by your ear and you swore you could feel his lips graze it. "Evan." he simply stated as if he wasn't annoyed by the idea.

You hated how cheeky he was being. You heard him perfectly fine.

"We're not dating." you revealed in defense.

"Well it's obvious that he wants to hit. It's embarrassing actually."

You rolled your eyes. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Then you remembered a someone who'd been by Vinnie's side since she got here.

"Why are you talking about me? What about you and Julia?"

Now it was his turn to get defensive.

"Me and Julia?? Who told you that?"

"A little birdie told me." you shrugged.

"We don't have anything going on. I mean, she's cool and all but I don't know her like that. And she's more of Payton's friend than mine."

"Hmm," you said in response as if you weren't convinced.

Vinnie scoffed. "Whatever. It's not like you and I are dating anyway."

"Yeah, so lets just drop it." you agreed.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Good."

He was about to say something else but your stubborn ass wasn't about to let him have the last word.

You finished your drink in one swing before stating, "excuse me" as you put the glass to his chest and he grabbed in on instinct to not let it fall as you let go of it before making your way to the backyard again.

You both smirked behind each other's backs as the bickering made you like each other even more.

[canonizzyhours]

i'm so glad this blog is back! so as one of our fandom's few, proud canon-flavor blackhands shippers (there are dozens of us! well, maybe one dozen. if i'm lucky) i want to celebrate by venting about something that bugs me in fic about the edizzy relationship.

in fic with sympathetic takes on izzy (and not just canyon ones, i see it pretty frequently from even anti-canyon people who are trying hard to be fair to the character) authors will have izzy, in the throes of unrequited love, thinking about all the good times he and ed used to have together pre-stede, how they used to laugh and have so much fun together. i understand where this is coming from but it is completely losing the core dynamic of the relationship! the key thing about edizzy, the thing that defines their dynamic and that makes the relationship so compelling, is that they both deeply (albeit in fucked up ways) love each other but despite that at the same time THEY DO NOT LIKE EACH OTHER, not even a little bit, and they never have.

you'll see canyon meta sometimes try to establish otherwise, but it's always sort of goofy like a lot of canyon arguments, usually the evidence will be, like, an isolated screencap where con smiles for a brief moment while ed does something in the foreground (often if you actually watch the scene it turns out he's reacting to something unrelated). or people will say ed trying to show izzy all stede's stuff must show that izzy used to respond positively to that sort of thing, instead of what's obviously going on in the scene which is that ed is desperately lonely and doesn't have anyone to talk to EXCEPT izzy.

but look at what we know about them. the parts of ed's personality that show the most when he's actually having a good time are the parts of him izzy likes the least. when ed's having fun he gets silly and playful. izzy disapproves of play and silliness on principle, and he especially hates it in ed, because he sees it as ed rejecting the blackbeard persona and therefore rejecting izzy himself. it's oil and water. this is reinforced by the parallels between izzy and mary: it's not like stede and mary used to like each other before their marriage decayed. they were miserable together from the moment they met; they don't have any shared interests and neither understands the other's creativity; and they don't really start to become friends until they give up on trying to make their relationship something it never could have been and try being honest with themselves and each other. in the same way it's not till around s2e6, after ed and izzy have both stopped lying to themselves and izzy has gotten over most of his hangups, that they even really get to a place where they might have been capable of starting to build an actual friendship. this is also part of why djenks ended up framing the relationship as family: a lot of familial relationships are people who've been through lots of huge life-defining events together and love each other deeply because of it but that doesn't mean they actually like being around each other.

if you want two guys who actually like each other, gentlebeard is great for that, in addition to being in love they also just like each other so much. if you want two guys who USED to like each other but don't really anymore and haven't fully realized that yet, you want ed & jack. ed and izzy work well together, they've been through all sorts of adventures together, they've probably saved each other's lives a dozen times over, izzy worships ed for his piracy prowess and general hypermasculinity, ed values izzy's performance as his first mate and also secretly craves his fatherly approval. they care deeply for each other for all those reasons. but there is no way there have ever once in their whole relationship just enjoyed hanging out with each other. they simply do not enjoy each other's company! they have all this deep emotion tied up in each other but on the most basic level they just don't like each other at all and i'm not sure either of them even fully realizes it! and that core tension is THE ENTIRE KEY to what makes their relationship like it is.

#441.

[captainsophiestark]

History

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Jack's ex-fiance left New York and moved to LA to start fresh after she realized he would never see her as an equal. Now, however, their paths might be crossing again, and Jack Thompson's managed to have a lot of growth since the last time they saw each other.

Word Count: 5,152

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I hummed to myself as I steeped my tea, soft music floating through the kitchen. I'd finished eating my favorite dinner before now preparing to settle in for my favorite radio program. A calm, perfect evening after a long day. All torn to shreds by the ringing of a phone in my living room.

I closed my eyes and sighed, but left my tea on its own and moved to answer the phone. Hopefully, whatever this was could be dealt with quickly, and I wouldn't miss any of my radio program.

"Hello?" I asked, resting the phone in the crook between my shoulder and neck and reaching for a pad and pencil, just in case. I froze mid-reach when I heard the voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey, uh, this is Agent Daniel Sousa. With the SSR. I don't know if you remember me-"

"Of course I remember you, Daniel," I broke in. "What do you want?"

He hesitated, and I couldn't help feeling just a little bad. My tone had turned from friendly to harsh in a split second, and Daniel and I had always been friendly. But if he was calling, it must've had something to do with my ex, and I certainly didn't want anything to do with that.

I'd met Daniel through the course of dating Jack Thomspon, who I later learned was actually Agent Jack Thompson. I'd met him when I was young and in love with the idea of being swept off my feet by a tall, handsome man, and Jack had more than fit the bill. It wasn't until much later, after he'd proposed and come home from the war, that I'd realized I wanted so much more.

I wanted a partner. Someone to have my back and build me up, to support me through life the same way I supported them. Jack wanted a maid that he could also sleep with, a picture perfect housewife with no external life or ambitions of her own. So I'd left him.

Before that, though, we'd gotten far enough that I'd found out about the SSR, and met Daniel in the process. We were friendly, and had even been on our way to being friends before everything between Jack and I had fallen apart. Since then, however, we hadn't spoken.

"...I'm sorry to do this to you, but I need your help."

Daniel's voice brought me back to the present. I sighed, sparing a longing glance for the tea in my kitchen before plopping down in the seat next to the phone.

"I assume this is about Jack? Is he... alright?" I almost choked on the word, surprised to find I actually still cared about the answer. I gripped the phone a little tighter as Daniel responded.

"Yeah, he's fine. Look, it's a long story, but we don't have a lot of time. There are some very bad people putting the fate of the world at risk, and I'm working with another agent to try to stop them. We have a plan we're in the process of enacting, but... we need your help to make sure it goes off without a hitch."

"Who's the other agent, Daniel?"

"Agent Peggy Carter. She's one of the best we have."

I paused. I'd been fairly confident he was about to say Jack, and to have him say a female agent's name instead was a nice surprise.

"Okay... but aren't you in New York? I don't know if you remember, but I moved pretty far away after things ended between Jack and I."

"And landed in LA, right?"

"...Yes... How did you-?"

"It's not important right now, just... how quickly can you get downtown? To the parking lot behind the hotel hosting Calvin Chadwick's campaign event?"

"Daniel, I haven't even said yes yet! I haven't talked to you in years, and I honestly don't think I want to get involved in this."

"I wouldn't be calling you if it weren't important. Meaning end of the world important. Please."

I paused, letting out a long, heavy sigh. I could practically hear Daniel waiting impatiently on the other end of the line, but I ignored the pressure. Unfortunatley for me, I believed that he really wouldn't be calling me if it weren't an emergency. And I didn't want to leave the world out to dry just because I didn't want to see Jack.

Which, also unfortunately for me, I knew this would involve. Daniel had very carefully danced around the subject of my ex-fiance, and I knew that dodginess was intentional. One way or another, Jack would be involved. But damn it all, I wasn't willing to blow off Daniel's cry for help on behalf of the world just to avoid Jack.

"...Fine. Dammit, fine. I can be there in fifteen minutes. I'm on my way."

"Thank you, serio-"

I hung up on him, giving myself one moment to relax back in the chair with a heavy sigh before launching into motion. I'd just have to make myself a new cup of tea when I got home, and ask someone at work tomorrow what I missed on my radio program.

Just under fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the back parking lot of the hotel hosting the campaign event. Carefully, I stepped out of my car, on high alert for a certain blond SSR agent. I whirled around at the sound of a door flying open only to find Daniel Sousa climbing out of an undercover van. He looked basically the same as the last time I'd seen him, although he'd apparently traded in his sweater vests for a Hawaiian shirt and a blazer.

"Thanks for coming," he said, crossing the parking lot to meet me. I nodded, my gaze going to the woman behind him. Daniel noticed my attention shift, and nodded to her. "This is Agent Peggy Carter."

"Pleasure, I'm sure."

I nodded and took Peggy's offered hand for a shake, but didn't say anything else as I quickly brought my attention back to Daniel.

"Alright, Daniel, why am I here? Specifically, not just 'to help'. And where's Jack? Don't try to tell me he's not here, you wouldn't have been so dodgy and nervous on the phone if he weren't."

"Dodgy and nervous?" Daniel asked, sounding more than a little offended. I just raised an eyebrow at him, so he sighed. "Fine. Here's the thing... we actually need you to go in there and distract Jack."

I didn't respond right away. I just stared at Daniel, waiting for him to say 'suprise' or 'gotchya' or some variation of the same thing. He just stared back, grimacing slightly. I finally came to the conclusion that he was being serious.

"I'll... pop back into the van and make sure Dottie and Mr. Jarvis are alright," Peggy said much too casually as she backed away from us. I never took my eyes off Daniel, my stare cooling considerably from when I'd first arrived.

"Daniel. Do you want to explain to me what's happening here, please? And why you need to distract a fellow agent, and especially why you think this is something you ought to be involving me in?"

Daniel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then shifted slightly closer to me. He lowered his voice, then spoke again.

"Look, here's the thing. You should know Jack's had some growth since you left. He's changed enough that I can actually stand to work with him, and I might still say I want to kill him, but I probably wouldn't follow through if I got the chance anymore. But recently, he's got his head up his ass again."

I snorted. "I really hope this is not going to involve you asking me to talk to him or get him to come around or whatever."

"Not quite. Recently, he's decided to take the side of some pretty bad people, although I don't think he realizes just how bad. A few of those people are in that event tonight, and we have operatives inside who need to get something from one of them. But Jack's in there, too. And he'll recognize our operatives if he's aware enough to see them, and since he doesn't seem to know better, he'll stop them. We can't let that happen. Which is where you come in."

I stared at Daniel again, then after a moment, started shaking my head. I was frankly a little speechless, which gave Daniel an opportunity to keep talking before I could get a cohearant thought together.

"Look, I know this won't be easy for you. I know it's unfair of me to ask, to call you out of nowhere. And I know the only reason you showed up at all is because we used to be friends. But please, please do this. I promise it's important, and if it weren't this important, I never would've asked. I... I've been out in LA for a while now, and I thought about touching base, but I figured you'd want your space, since I'm probably tied up with Jack in memories for you. But we need your help with this one."

I shook my head, holding up a hand to stop Daniel's pitch.

"Alright. I came all the way down here, and because it's you asking and I know that means this thing you're involved in is actually, seriously important... I'll still help. But then you are not going to speak to me for at least a month, after dragging me into this mess to manipulate my ex-fiance, and then we're going to go to lunch. And you're paying, because it's ridiculous that you've been out here this long and haven't talked to me, noble intentions or not."

Daniel huffed a laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. "It's a deal. Promise."

"Great. So... where exactly am I going to do your dirty work?"

"Just in there," said Daniel, gesturing for a set of doors at the back of the hotel. I nodded and turned to face the doors in question, intending to head in. But for some reason, I couldn't make myself start moving. "Uh... you alright?"

I cleared my throat and nodded, although I knew I wasn't convincing either of us.

"Yes, yeah, I'm... I'm fine. Just gonna... go in there. And see Jack. For the first time in a few years."

"Hey." Daniel shifted closer to me, resting one hand on my shoulder and lowering his voice. I huffed and closed my eyes, but didn't pull away. "Look, I'm sorry to put you in this position... if you really don't think you can do it-"

"No. We're not going down that path. I know you wouldn't have asked me if it weren't a legitimate emergency, so I can't afford to think about an out. Just... maybe you could give me a push?"

I didn't turn to face Daniel, but even out of the corner of my eye I perfectly caught the judgey, raised-eyebrow look he gave me.

"Are you serious?"

"Daniel, I am about to go in there and distract my ex-fiance. I am dead serious."

"...Alright. You ready then?"

"No, I'm not! That's the whole point of requiring a push!"

"Okay, okay! Geeze."

A moment later, I felt Daniel's hand on my shoulder, gently moving me in the direction of the ballroom. It had nowhere near the amount of force I'd been hoping for, but the thought at least was enough to get me moving.

I crossed the parking lot at a steady pace, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I pushed open the door to the ballroom without letting myself hesitate, striding through without looking back. I tried to ignore the sound of it slamming shut behind me as I strode confidently into the room, head held high despite the warring storm of emotions swirling in my gut. It took every ounce of strength I had to walk into that ballroom, but somehow I managed it.

And then I saw him.

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but the moment I saw Jack, my heart stopped in my chest and my knees threatened to give out. So much history stood between us, and even though we'd ended on fairly bad terms and I knew I'd made the right decision, my heart still couldn't completely ignore everything we'd been through. Everything he'd meant to me.

I took a deep, shaky breath. Apparently, a lot of the world was counting on me keeping Jack from interfering in whatever Daniel had going on tonight. I'd agreed to come in here, and now I couldn't afford to fall apart.

I squared my shoulders, then strode across the ballroom, past dancing couples and schmoozing politicians. Everything faded away the closer I got to Jack, until I was standing next to him, just out of his peripheral vision, and we were the only two people in the world.

I reached out a hand to tap Jack on the shoulder, and time nearly stood still. He turned towards me in slow motion, and I watched his face go from one slightly raised eyebrow to wide-eyed, gut-punched shock. The moment our eyes met seemed to stretch for years, until Jack finally broke it, saying my name in a breathy voice that shouldn't have been audible over the sounds in the rest of the ballroom. Surprisingly, I didn't have to fake the slight smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.

"Hey, Jack," I breathed. He blinked at me a few times, maybe expecting me to disappear like some hallucination. When I didn't, he managed to find his voice again.

"Wh... what are you doing here?"

"I feel like I could ask you the same question," I said, voice soft. Speaking anywhere near normal force or volume felt like it would shatter something about the peace of the moment, or bring our problems back to the forefront of our minds. "I thought you were still in New York."

"I was. Am. Still in New York, that is. I, uh... they made me Chief."

My eyebrows shot up. Daniel hadn't bothered to mention that.

"Wow. Well... congratulations. When did that happen?"

"A little over a year ago," he said, shrugging his shoulders and glancing away like it was nothing. I knew him much too well for it to fool, me, though. He was beyond proud, and he wanted me to be impressed.

"That's great, Jack," I said, not entirely sure whether I meant it. "So is that what brings you out here?"

"Something like that," he huffed. He shook his head, staring off at the wall of the bar, apparently snapping out of the moment we'd found ourselves in with something else hovering over his head. It didn't bother me to be a part of that something, although maybe it should have.

"I take it this is more of that highly-classified, highly 'over my head' stuff you always refused to talk to me about?"

Jack's eyes slid back to mine, looking genuinely sad in a way I hadn't expected. Honestly, I'd been expecting to spark some anger. Instead, he looked like I'd just punched him in the stomach.

"I... wasn't great at communicating with you back then, was I?"

I snorted. "That's an understatement."

Jack sighed and took a sip of his drink, nodding slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, it probably is. Look, I don't know why you're here right now, but..." He cut himself off abruptly, glancing away from me again with a shake of his head. I raised an eyebrow, just waiting for him to work up the courage to say what he wanted to say. The longer he took, the easier it was for me to help Daniel with whatever this was, anyway. Jack took a deep breath, shot the rest of his drink, and set the glass down on the bar before looking at me again. "I was gonna look you up, while I was out here. I've been putting it off, because, well, I wasn't sure you'd want to see me. But... since you're here now...?"

I started shaking my head. I couldn't help it. Jack, apparently undeterred, stepped forward and took my hands in his. I wished I could say helping Daniel was the only reason I let him.

"You hate me. I get it, alright? But I'm not the same man I was the last time I saw you."

"Oh really, Jack? Then what kind of man are you now?" I asked, unable to stop myself. "What are you doing here, schmoozing at some party with a bunch of shady guys in suits? How different is that to the last time I saw you?"

"Very different! Listen, I get it now. I understand what you wanted from me, and I understand why you left. You wanted respect, and I... I wasn't willing to give that to you."

I frowned, scanning Jack's face for any hint of inscenserity or rehearsed speech. All I found was an honest, open expression staring back at me, my ex-fiance looking more open and interested in talking about the hard stuff than he'd been once in the time we were together.

"But sweetheart," he continued, after a brief pause to let his words sink in. I met his gorgeous blue eyes that I'd fallen in love with so long ago, and a hand clenched around my heart. "I get it now. And... I want a shot at giving you that respect, knowing what I know now. Being who I am now."

I huffed a disbelieving laugh, shaking my head as I broke Jack's intense stare.

"Jack... are you kidding me right now?"

"Not even a little bit." He squeezed my hands lightly, stepping even closer to me. The hand around my heart dug its claws in. "I... I love you. I never stopped loving you. If you give me a second chance... I promise, I won't screw this one up."

A choked sob forced its way out of my mouth as the room started spinning under me. I pulled my hands away from Jack, shaking my head fervently as I did.

"I... You can't... I can't think about this right now. After everything you can't just..." I huffed, shaking my head again and moving out of the way as Jack reached for my hands again.

"Baby-"

I turned on my heel and ran before he got another word out. Hopefully, that was good enough for Daniel and his friends. One way or another it would have to be. I couldn't stay there for another second, and it was starting to feel like it'd been a mistake to come in the first place.

I'd been expecting some slightly charged conversation, maybe even some arguing. Breaking off an engagement wasn't usually amiable, and our situation had been no exception. I hadn't been expecting to see real pain on his face, or real regret, or real love still lingering there. And I definitely hadn't expected to feel the faintest hint of the same emotions in my own chest.

Whatever the hell that meant, I couldn't face it right now. Not when I was standing in that ballroom in the first place to trick and lie to the man giving me the apology I'd wanted for years before finally excepting I'd never get it. The guilt started creeping in like a knife to the heart, another thing I hadn't been expecting.

I didn't check to see if Jack was following me as I headed straight for the parking lot, back out the door I'd come in. A thousand different emotions and thoughts screamed through my head, and the only thing that seemed clear was that I needed to get as far away as possible from here, now.

"Hey!"

I don't know why I hadn't been expecting to run into Daniel, but I'd barely gotten a breath of the cool night air in before he called out to me, moving quickly from the back of their undercover van to where I'd parked my car.

"Hey! Are you okay? We didn't mic you up, but one of our agents inside said they saw you running out-"

"This was a bad idea, Daniel," I said, shaking my head and pausing to talk only because Daniel was in the way of the driver's door of my car. "I shouldn't have agreed to this. I didn't... I don't know what I expected. The same asshole I broke up with, I guess. An argument. Not... not what I got."

I moved to push past him, but he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me in my tracks. His eyebrows knit together as he scanned me up and down, concern radiating from him in waves.

"What happened in there? Are you okay?"

I shook my head. "It was a mistake to get in the middle of this, with you and him. He said some stuff... I don't know. I don't know, okay? This was stupid, I should've just stayed home. I need to go home, Daniel. So please, get out of my way."

Daniel hesitated again, looking me over, this time with a more critical eye. I huffed.

"I promise I'm not hurt, and that I'm fine to drive, alright? I just... I need to get out of here."

After another second, Daniel finally nodded and stepped out of my way. I didn't bother sparing him another glance as I got into my car and pulled away, putting as much distance as possible between me and Jack and everything to do with that ballroom.

When I got home, I replayed the conversation I'd had with Jack over and over again in my head, on an endless loop. I didn't hear another word from Daniel, or from Jack, which I tried to convince myself was for the best. When the radio silence stretched on for days, however, my arguments to myself became less and less convincing, and every additional day of silence was another day to overthink myself into a frenzy. Had something gone wrong with whatever world-ending threat they were dealing with? Did something bad happen to one or both of the SSR boys? Or was there some other reason the SSR agents continued to give me space?

By the end of the week, I'd just about decided to go track down Jack or Daniel or maybe Peggy, although I'd only met her in passing, myself. Finding a secret agency probably wouldn't be easy, but I'd been reeling and replaying everything in my mind for days, and I couldn't go back to pretending none of them had ever been part of my life again. I'd just started flipping through a phone book over my morning coffee, looking for any businesses that looked like feasible fronts for the SSR, when someone rang my doorbell.

I sighed, marking my spot in the phone book before standing and moving to the door, my cup of coffee in-hand. I almost dropped my favorite mug when I opened the door to find Jack standing on my doorstep in a nice suit, holding a bouquet of roses.

"Before you say anything, Sousa's the one who gave me your address. So if you didn't want to see me... blame him."

I couldn't hold back a laugh, at least half the weight on my chest lifting off with the knowledge that Jack and Daniel were both okay. I bit my lip, trying to keep control of myself, as I looked Jack over.

"I... I'm really glad you're okay," I finally sighed. "When I didn't hear from you for a while, I got a little worried..."

"We had... some stuff to deal with. But it's dealt with now. I'd love to come in and tell you about it... if you'd be willing to have some company for breakfast."

My eyes shot up to Jack's. He tried to look calm and collected, but I could see the way his hands fidgeted around the stems of the flowers, and the way his eyes searched my face for any sign of an answer in either direction. I sighed.

"Listen, Jack... I don't know..."

"Alright, look. I'm technically supposed to be leaving for the airport to catch a plane back to New York in about half an hour. But I also got Sousa to agree to let me stay with him for a while, if... if I need to stay in LA for a bit longer, for whatever reason. But if you don't want me here, if it's too little too late for you..." He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard and steeling himself before continuing. "Then I'll head to the airport and get out of your hair. And I won't bother you again."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, looking down and shaking my head to try to clear it. I'd sworn to myself when I moved out here that I wouldn't let Jack Thompson back into my life. I'd been confident it was for the best. But he really did seem different than he had the last time I'd seen him. And I couldn't ignore the way my heart still skipped a beat when I looked at him, or how badly I wanted to believe what he'd told me in the ballroom.

Finally, I looked back up at Jack. I met his ice blue eyes, the same ones I'd been staring into since we were basically kids, before he'd served in Japan and a thousand other things in our lives had changed. And I knew I couldn't send him away without at least hearing him out. I knew it might mean I got hurt again, badly, but I also knew the regret of never knowing for sure would eat me alive for the rest of my life.

"Jack... there's something you should know first."

"And that is?"

"It wasn't fate that brought me to the ballroom, or whatever else you thought it was. I... was actually there because Daniel called me to ask for my help."

Jack sighed. "I know. He and Carter told me. They seemed to have a guilty conscience about it. But I'll tell you what I told them: I don't care. It brought you back into my life, so... I'll take it."

The corner of my mouth tugged up again, and I tried not to let the excitement take over too much as Jack leaned a little forward.

"So... does that mean I can come in?"

I bit my lip again in a failed half-attempt to stop the smile rapidly spreading across my face. Finally, I let it win, and gave Jack a nod.

"Oh, thank god," he sighed, sagging and flopping over the doorframe, the flowers falling to his side for a moment until he looked back up at me. "You really had me thinking I was gonna have to race to make my plane for a minute there, sweetheart."

I laughed and shook my head, taking the flowers from Jack as I motioned for him to come inside. I shut the door behind him, then turned to lead him from the entryway into the kitchen.

"So... do you want some coffee?" I asked, moving to the pot before Jack answered. I knew he did.

"That'd be great." He paused, and I heard him sit at the table himself me as I added sugar and milk the way I knew he liked (although he'd never ask anybody else to add it in). "This place looks great."

"Thanks. It's been a labor of love, for sure. I learned how to fix just about everything in here that could break, since it started out that way."

I shot Jack a little smile as I sat down at the table across from him, sliding his coffee over. The statement was a test, and whether or not he knew it, he smiled back.

"If only you'd known all that stuff when we were in our old place. Maybe you could've saved me from breaking the sink beyond repair."

"If I remember right, I did try to help with that. And you told me to let you handle it while I made something nice for dinner."

Jack grimaced, taking a sip of his coffee. "Yeah. I do remember that. And... I'm sorry. I was an idiot back then. I wish I'd known then what I do now."

I nodded thoughtfully. He seemed sincere, which truly might've been a miracle-level personal shift. I still tried to keep my hopes from running wild, but it was getting harder by the minute.

"Thanks for the coffee, by the way," he continued. "I haven't had anything this good since... well, in a long time."

I gave him a rueful smile as he bailed out of "since you left". I sighed, taking a sip of my own coffee before looking at Jack again.

"So... why don't you tell me about all this stuff that kept you from visiting earlier? When I talked to Daniel, he said it was end of the world-level."

Jack nodded, running his hand through his hair. "I mean, it sure wasn't good. Might've been one of the worse things we've had to deal with. You're gonna like this though, since we saved the day. One of my best agents who helped solve all this stuff is a woman. Peggy Carter, she said she met you?"

"Only briefly," I said, smiling into my coffee. "She seemed pretty cool."

"She's damn good at her job. And so were you, by the way. You covered for her and Sousa perfectly when you showed up at that fundraiser. It took one of the people you were covering for walking straight into my path for me to realize something was up, and even then I didn't suspect you. Masterclass."

I huffed a laugh, but my smile grew so big I couldn't hide it behind my coffee mug anymore. Jack smiled back.

"Alright, so, this is kind of a long story. Especially if I start from the beginning."

"I want to hear all of it," I decided. "If you're up for it... including the stuff that came before this mission. I want to know about what you've been up to since... since I left."

Jack nodded, a hopeful smile pulling its way onto his own face. I could see him wrestling with himself to keep his cool, and I was happy to see him losing.

"Deal. As long as you promise to tell me everything you've been up to once I'm done."

"Sounds like we have a wonderful plan for the morning," I replied. Jack absolutely beamed back at me.

"I've never been happier to miss a flight in my life."

I laughed, and for a moment, I got a glimmer of the parts of my life with Jack that had made me stay for so long. His humor, and all the good in him that he worked to hide, but now, without the layer of separation that came from him not seeing me as an equal.

It had barely been ten minutes total of time spent with this slightly older, slightly different Jack Thompson. By far too early to say anything difinitively. But that little seed of hope in my chest had bloomed into a full bouquet since I'd opened my door this morning, and I couldn't help feeling that this time, things actually were different. Jack was different. And this time, maybe things would work.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmells @gaychaosgremlin

[beauleifu]

Hello! Can you write a oneshot or a headcanon (platonic, ofc) about Macaque with a reserved but also very outgoing child? (like those kids that are calm and reserved but if you mention something they really like they just go off and start rambling all happy and excited)

I had this idea in my head for a little while, I think it'd be really funny and wholesome if he just appeared at Pigsy's Noodles w/ his child and everyone's like "wh- YOU'RE A DAD??? WHEN??? HOW????" and he just watches with that Tired Parent Look™ as his kid stares directly at MK and goes "YOU'RE THAT MONKIE GUY ON THE TV!!!"

Sorry for any errors! English is not my first language, I apologize for the long text aswell, I'm just an absolute sap for the "tired but loving dad" trope also you can totally delete my ask or skip it if you don't want to write it!! Thank you either way, your writing is wonderful :) !

All right! *cracks fingers, snaps neck- whoops-*

You got it anon! Sorry for not answering this ask sooner, I realized headcanons are easier to write than an actual oneshot considering the limited time I have to write nowadays. But I hope you enjoy, and thanks for the ask! <333

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

MACAQUE X CHILD!READER

Lego Monkie Kid

Context: Long ago, a wise old monkey had taken you under his wing, to train you and teach you the ways- okay, let's save the theatrics for later, that's Macaque's thing. Your father figure. Honestly, he's growing on you, and it's starting to show now that people are pointing it out.

TW: None!

HEADCANNONS

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Macaque doesn't normally take you somewhere where conflict is bound to arise. He'd prefer someplace more peaceful, like a park/museum/theater. Unless, of course, he's in the mood for adventure and will literally take you skydiving without a permit.

Totally the irresponsible dad. He's protective as FUCK, let's make that clear, but in the end he trusts you to take care of yourself

perhaps a bit too much, and even you think that

He'll encourage you to pet that snake

He'll give you the thumbs up if you wanted to climb to the top of the weather tower during a thunderstorm

Like "Go get 'em, (Y/N)! Make your father proud!"

With such a dramatic character when it comes to encouraging you, Macaque will become insanely tired. He'll be snoring on the couch and won't wake up even if you stacked all the furniture in the house on his back

Speaking of the house, he and you live far away from any danger

This guy didn't know jack shit about being a dad at first (you kind of hat to teach him, oh how the turns have tabled) But once he understood the basics, he took the reins, eager to impress you and earn your respect. Macaque isn't usually a sucker for developing any relationship with Earthly figures, but you were the only exception. He'd lay awake at night thinking if he's making the right choice, then slapping himself for even considering abandoning you. You are too precious.

Which is why he's totally, utterly wrapped around your little finger

So when you ask to get take-out at Pigsy's Noodles, it doesn't take much effort to sway his stoic resolve

"Dad. Pops. Papa. Father of mine," you say, grabbing his face, looking a lot older than you actually are. "Please!"

Since Macaque can't turn his face to the side (squished as it is), he sighs dramatically and closes his eyes. You catch the faint, irritated twitch of his tail, but that's about the only hint of Fed-Up Parent you can detect.

"(Y/N), Megapolis is miles away."

"You have shadow magic!"

"You can't just abuse my powers, especially now that you've decided to abuse yours," he grunts, albeit grinning at you. He' loosing.

Triumph fills your chest. "I can handle it! Uncle Pigsy would love to see me!"

"Uncle!?" Macaque splutters, finally escaping your grip. Shocked eyes blink down at you. "Sweetheart, you haven't even met Pigsy, you've only seen him from afar."

You blink up, flaunting those devil-may-care puppy eyes.

Oh, he hates it when you do that.

"Puh-lease! I'll do anything! i'll scratch your back! Do my chores before games! I-I'll stay out of your secret stash of peaches!" You gasp, flopping down on the soft carpet lining the floor. You consider the intricate pattern for a moment, then mutter under your breath; "Even though you said you hate those. . . ."

Macaque fixes you with a stern look. "You know about that, huh?"

"Mayyybe."

Like I said, not that much effort. The guy may be invulnerable to harm at best, but his immortality falls short under your tactics. Persuasive skills that he taught you to use.

Sucks how plans backfire, huh?

When you two do get to the shop, however, Macaque goes into full parent-mode

He doesn't care if you think it's uncool, you're holding his hand and that's that. He'd get you one of those child harnesses but thank the stars you'd convinced him you're worth more than such a humiliating child-control device.

So in you go, holding hands, Macaque glaring at anyone who spares you a curious glance.

When Macaque sees who's at the counter, he almost does a 180 out of there

It's MK.

Of all people.

He hasn't seen the two of you yet, though. You feel Macaque's paw tighten over your small, nimble fingers, and you can't help but squeeze back in return, asking a silent question.

It's times like these where you don't know what to do. You're still a child, even if this was your idea.

But then you spot who's at the counter

and At the same time, Pigsy comes 'round the corner with a giant tray of noodles- fit for the exact number of people surrounding the Monkie Kid. Suddenly, Macaque realizes who all is there.

This guy

Parent-Panic-Pro

The literal Monkey King is the first to turn head, eyes landing on Macaque first. You can tell instantly his fight-or-flight response just kicked in; shoulders tensing, teeth baring, eyes widening (oh yes, typical ex behavior- HAHA)

Then, all heads are turning.

And Monkey King's eyes land on you

Macaque steps in front of you, form tense and on high alert. "Heyyyy," he says, awkwardly.

The Monkey King tilts his head, perhaps confused as to why his old friend is protecting a little kid. Then he realizes. Poor guy connects the dots, lets out an unholy gasp of astonishment, and points and the both of you

"YOU. YOU- AND THEM- MACISTHATYOURKID-"

Pandemonium.

At least, in the most gentle context. MK and his friends do a double take, the Monkey King is gaping and trying to figure out who could ever love Macaque to result in this- and your dad just completely gives up. He gives you this look, like 'see why I was against bringing you here'

And you know. And your eyes say sorry, that you'll make it up to him later

Typical silent father/child communicating

(you guys are really good at that, communicating through your eyes or expressions. it helps in crowds)

That is, until your eyes fall on MK and realize for the first time that he's actually there

And Macaque's face falls into an impossibly disappointed facade (really, he's happy you're socializing) as you let go of his hand and prance right up to MK, eyes literal stars.

Thank goodness for MK, for he's kind and patient enough to let you blabble and gush on about how cool he is and how you've stayed up to date on the latest chaos he's incited (poor dude looks a bit downcast at that)

Funny how you went to such a well-behaved, shy kid to an energetic hyper-fixated gremlin in two seconds

All the while, Pigsy is listening, Monkey King corners Macaque and quietly demands answers (the two of them talk in the background for awhile as you socialize)

Noodles are served

There's just so many people in Pigsy's Noodles that the owner himself couldn't keep track of who ordered what, so everyone just got the same thing- and lots of it

In the end, you're all sitting down at the table (everyone had worked together to gather as many spare tables/chairs as possible to sit together at one huge-ass table)

You insisted you sit with Mei and MK in order to interrogate them about their adventures

OF course, you mean well, and they know that. And Macaque never pulls you aside because he likes seeing you like this, it makes him happy knowing you're indulging in the things you love, and he deosn't have the heart to tell you it's almost time to go home.

So you stay there for awhile, chatting with Mk and his friends

You get to know Pigsy (he doesn't mind being called your uncle, said at this point he's practically everyone's uncle or dad)

But alas

You're bit a child

And towards the end of the night, aftter everyone is stuffed full of noodles, you're conked out in your chair, slumped and snoring softly, eyes fluttering from dreaming

Everyone glances at you, how fucking adorable you are

Macaque straightens, clears his throat, says it's time for him to leave

Sun Wukong stops him for a moment, just to say

"Keep them safe, Mac."

Of course, like the #1 Dad he is, Macaque snorts. "I think I know more about raising a kid than you do, Wukong. I'll . . . see you out there."

Then he picks you up, carefully, so you stay sleeping, and walks out

but not before turning around to thank everyone for dinner

For once, they offer smiles (some are weaker and less meaningful than others, but props for trying. Macaque is kinda responsible for a lot of pain in their lives, anyways)

You don't register any of it, too full of noodles and new information regarding your idols

Macaque knows he'll never hear the end of it

Perhaps that's a good thing, considering the fond smile on his face as he gently carries you home, lays you in bed, and pulls the covers over your snoring form. He eagerly awaits the morning to which you'll wake him up excitedly ranting about tonight, about how you want to do it again

And he's wrapped around your little finger, so if course he'll listen to you

this guy would move the world for you

[baa-whatever]

I'm probably being dumb and forgetting stuff but has ruin ever said why he saved sun over solar? Like why was he willing to go so far for that ? Actually what is it with villains in this series and noticing something about sun but we never get any follow up from it

I don't think he did.

I think Ruin just cares about Sun a lot. And thinking about it a bit more, most of the Sun's we've seen so far seem to really want their Moon's dead in the beginning. Even Sunshine tried getting Sun to help him kill both their Moons because he thought his Moon was built by his brother Moonlight to kill him.

He knows Dark Sun hates Moons.

And another Sun, he hasn't met him, is scared of his Moon and too cowardly to speak up because that Moon is killing people he see's as a threat.

So even though most Moons haven't yet killed their Suns, this one hasn't given up on his Moon or Nexus yet.

He even seemed like he was doing fine without Moons when he had Jack. Jack's smart in his own way Sun realized. He's mostly supportive of Sun when it's just them.

Ruin knows more than he lets on though....he knows something's going to happen to Sun...He warned Nexus about it. Nexus's biggest fear was seeing his brother, Sun, become a killer. That's the one thing him and Moon fear the most. Hell, Eclipse back then was freaked out over Sun saying he was going to kill Solarflare when he thought he finally killed Eclipse and he didn't do anything.

[strixcattus]

I mentioned wanting to post about my other STP AUs and then never actually followed up with that beyond some general notes on my D&D-esque AU, so here's a more specific rundown of the Voices:

Hero: A run-of-the-mill fighter from a small farming village on the west coast of the continent. Allegedly he was prophesied to do... something (still unclear on what, but the word "slay" was definitely involved), but he's not sure if he believes in that sort of thing. Somehow he ends up taking on quests with Cold and Stubborn far too often for comfort. Increasingly convinced he's the only normal person here.

Cold: A cold-blooded assassin and general blade-for-hire who only takes on jobs he finds interesting. In another time, he was less picky about whom he was assigned to kill, but he's grown discerning with time. He's only killed one noble in recent years before deciding to focus on more difficult targets... but she doesn't seem keen on leaving him alone. Most of his past is a mystery to everyone but Hero, though most people don't exactly feel like asking about it.

Stubborn: A textbook barbarian who decided never to die one day and hasn't changed his mind since. Tends to take on quests alongside Cold since their desires for an interesting fight line up... though Cold may or may not always appreciate the help. He met some sort of half-demon a few years back who had the same kind of loose relationship with death, and ever since they meet up every few months to kill each other. For some reason, most people think this is weird.

Contrarian: One of three recent bard-college graduates in the party. His specialty is theater and improvisation, particularly of a satirical sort. It hasn't even been a year since graduation and he's already banned from one of the northern kingdoms due to The Play. He's also banned from explaining what exactly was so offensive about The Play, and this one might be magically enforced, so best not to risk it. Of the bards, he's the most magically talented, though he mainly uses his talents for pranks.

Smitten: The second of three recent graduates. His specialties are the lute (which he's actually quite good at), romantic poetry (eh...), and singing/songwriting (no.). The most anyone can really get him to open up about his past is that he's from an island kingdom to the east and didn't grow up with any other beastfolk. "Smitten" isn't actually his real name, but not even Contrarian and Opportunist know what it really is.

Opportunist: The third of the recent graduates. He's a bit of a jack-of-all trades and fairly average at magic. It's mostly his fault that the three of them didn't manage to meet up again until they'd been tasked with killing a bunch of Princesses, because less than a month after graduation he got on the wrong side of a witch, was cursed into the form of a frog, and, being too proud to seek help, had to figure out how to either break the curse or turn back to his normal form on his own.

Hunted: I haven't fully figured out what's going on with him. He's a ranger who's been tracking a mysterious beast throughout the western forest—he's pretty sure there's some bounty put forth by one of the kingdoms within the forest, but his quest is mostly personal. He recently acquired an animal companion (a raven) to help him hunt down the beast, but only learned after the fact that the "animal companion" was A: sapient, and B: unable to fly.

Broken: He's been flightless since before he showed up at the first familiar-shop, and the constant cycle of being adopted by some aspiring wizard or ranger, then being cast out once they realized they'd been misled didn't do him any favors. It doesn't seem to be the result of an injury, though—he seems to know the real cause, but he isn't talking. At least the ranger who adopted him this time seems to be more understanding than the others.

Cheated: A solo adventurer who tends not to stick with a single party for very long. He's a warlock, allegedly, and he'll tell the story to anyone to asks of why you should stay far, far away from suspicious-sounding maidens in the woods, but no one has actually seen him use any spells. He frequents the tavern where Skeptic works—it's a more permanent fixture in his life than any party he's worked with.

Skeptic: He's not an adventurer himself—he runs an adventurers' tavern in the western woods, and has become acquainted with most of the others through his business. It's an underappreciated job, and it's a lot of work to ensure shady characters can't mess up the system, but adventurers tip pretty well. You just have to make sure the "No change" sign is visible, so they can't demand that you find some way to split the gold pieces that are the only currency they carry. Skeptic tends to stay distant from customers, though, with his only close confidant being the wizard outside town.

Paranoid: He had a reputation as a shut-in even before he started refusing to set foot outside his tower a few weeks back. But even more so, he has a reputation as being the best healing wizard in his part of the western woods—mainly by virtue of being the only healing wizard in his part of the woods, but he is very skilled. And driven. He was the first Voice to properly slay a Princess, even before the others formed their party.

The only problem is, whatever he killed in his tower basement doesn't seem to have been content to stay dead.

[soweirdondisney]

First, I want to say thank you for all you do to keep the So Weird fandom alive. I know many of us are silent fans because, though we love the show, it's difficult to find much new to say at this point. Second, I know that a So Weird revival is unlikely (which is a shame, because I genuinely think it could be really good, unlike so many of the revivals that have already been done), but I was wondering if you had any plot ideas of your own for a potential revival. Just for fun of course.

Maybe you had no idea when you wrote this, but you sent this at the perfect time. I was dealing with some drama behind the scenes (nothing serious and it's over now) that made me wonder if I take So Weird too seriously and should ease up on the effort to keep up with it all. Then I logged in to find your message and it was validating - a reassurance, if you will. So thank you, too.

As far as my own plot ideas… I'm not sure if you meant for one-off episodes or one that's part of the bigger plot, so I'll answer both.

(Putting it beneath the cut because this is going to be long.)

I once read about ghosts in the aftermath of natural disasters (think the New Orleans hurricane and Japanese tsunami). The ghosts (previously living people) don't know they're dead but are able to flag down taxis. Drivers would accept them but once at the destination no one was in the car anymore to pay the tab. Other instances include riders saying street names and towns that no longer existed or had been abandoned after evacuation. Cab companies reportedly stay out of certain areas because of this, and it would make a great So Weird episode.

I would love for Fi to meet a group of witches around her age who practice witchcraft. Fi spends so much time with her brother and "shared" friends and the one time we saw Candy it was mostly about Rick. I want Fi to experience some sisterhood bonding with people who get her. But if Disney wanted to do a Hocus Pocus crossover that could work too.

Other episode ideas - the boys go to a haunted house that is actually haunted, a retelling of The Monkey's Paw, spotting the loch ness monster, a Disney-friendly version of saying "Candyman" or "Bloody Mary", Molly is a guest performer on a historical ship as paranormal happenings ensue.

In terms of the bigger plot, I'd love a two-part episode where Molly and the gang go to Europe. It would be a special event like a lifetime achievement award for Papa Bear or a PKB Hall of Fame induction.

While exploring the area Fi discovers fairies who "know" she's met a will o' the wisp. (Not sure how this would be, maybe how the banshee acted toward her?) It's a parallel to Jack following Bricriu, but this time she's lead to a leprechaun.

Her ring keeps him at a distance, almost as a protection barrier, and he wants nothing to do with Fi until she makes a comment about a gold award her family/family friend is getting. He's intrigued, and after looking at her closer, mistakes her for another Fiona, even remarks they haven't seen each other in ages.

Fi says something like, "Fiona's my great-grandmother" (yes, another parallel) and the fella runs off, reappears, and runs off again as she tries to question it. Exasperated, Fi says something to the extent of, "You remind me of someone too." And his response is a serious, "Yes, but you knew that didn't you?"

And this baffles Fi to no end - the realization that her great-grandma knew what was going to happen? Was the other Fiona destined to save the world, too? Did she fail and that's why it's on Fi now? And if she doesn't complete it then future generations in her bloodline will have to try? Who knows!

All through this Jack can't enjoy the trip. Poor guy's having massive headaches (like the people in Memory because this special is full of callbacks) cause he's living his current life in the location that overlaps with his past life as a knight. Dude keeps dreaming of the Strangeling events he experienced with Fi and also of an older lady named Fiona who he would recognize if he wasn't in so much pain.

None of this has been researched so the mythology might be off, but that's what I came up with to your question and hopefully it was fun to read. Thank you for writing!

[ganxiously]

know that i read ur post and went 'exactlyyyy' because like... do ppl not realize that some people literally ship characters that have less than 1 second of screen time? and characters that haven't even met (to the point where cross-fandom ships happen like do we all remember jack frost and elsa because i sure do!)??? i dont get why people need to keep asking to 'understand' when they could just... accept that people don't need a reason to ship anything. i randomly went 'lmao eddie and linda could be cute' to my friend when i was watching because i thought they had cute energy in their scenes together! i wouldn't need any deeper reason to ship them if i wanted to put more energy into it! its just annoying always having to see people be like 'justify it for me right now so that i can tell you your wrong' bc thats definitely what some of the 'genuinely explain' people are meaning--one of them literally said they already had rebuttals ready so they weren't JUST looking to explain/have a convo but to try and be like 'and heres where you're wrong!' :/

you are so right, anon. and I'm sure most of these people will have no problem turning around and going to another fandom to ship people who are not canonically linked. maybe some of them already do that. and they might think they are being oh so cool by putting us bucktommys in our places but at the end of the day, all they have contributed to the fandom is their bad attitude and toxic mindset. and to be honest, that is such a sad existence. you can do so many things, spread so much joy and love and cultivate a sense of community among people without even knowing their names, all because you love the same thing. and instead, what you do is become the harbinger of hatred.

[queermania]

(last reblog made me realize something but i didn't want to add it to the post or in the tags because it's spoilery if you've only seen up to s8)

there are a lot of reasons why cas' confession is so unsatisfying to me but one of the reasons i haven't been able to articulate until now is that it kind of.... undoes everything that preceded it? cas gives voice to the thing we've all been watching play out for twelve years and that should feel like a win, it should feel like relief, because happiness isn't in the having, it's in the just being, it's in the just saying, right? but, in saying it, cas removed the being part of it from everything that happened prior. cas' speech made it feel like we haven't been watching two people who are in queer love and who are very much in a queer relationship.

instead, we've been watching a guy secretly pining for another guy who may or may not have secretly loved him back. and that... is not true to the story i've been watching unfold? that only works if i accept the premise that the writers and the actors and the directors and the crew and the editors weren't actually telling a queer love story to the best of their ability the whole time. and i don't accept that! they were telling the story!! it was on purpose!!!

like, the reason dean's confession-prayer in purgatory is satisfying is because it doesn't undo anything that came before it.

Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. I-- Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know -- I know that it's -- i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just -- it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how -- how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And -- and I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long -- I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm -- I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. Okay.

this is dean reiterating everything we as an audience already know because we've already seen it (dean wants cas there and he regrets letting him go and there is nothing cas could do that would make dean actually give up on him). if you replace "best friend" with literally anything else that effectively means "romantic partner" this still works. it doesn't change it at all. this is dean and cas. this is destiel. this is the story i've been watching since lazarus rising. maybe even the pilot.

contrast that with 15x18, however:

I always wondered, ever since I took that burden, that curse, I wondered what it could be? What my true happiness could even look like. I never found an answer because the one thing I want... It's something I know I can't have. But I think I know... I think I know now. Happiness isn't in the having, it's in just being. It's in just saying it . . . I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're "daddy's blunt instrument." And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you see it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are. You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell... Knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack... I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean . . . I love you.

this is a different story. it changes everything. and, like, i think that was supposed to be the point, but unfortunately for me it is one of the reasons it doesn't work. why doesn't cas think he can have dean? is it simply because he thinks dean doesn't want him back?? is it because he thinks dean is straight?? like, the fact that i don't instinctively know the answer to that is a problem, and the reason i don't know the answer is because it doesn't jive with the show i've been watching for fifteen seasons. castiel's confession is the conclusion to a different show's run, one where they were actually queerbaiting the whole time and decided to throw the fans a bone at the very end.

but they weren't queerbaiting. they were writing textually queer characters with textually queer relationships.

and so a speech where cas is confessing to being in love with dean even though he thinks dean's straight doesn't really work at any point in the show's timeline for me.

and a speech where cas is confessing to being in love with dean even though he doesn't think dean loves him back in that way doesn't really work at any point past s12 for me, and even within s12 to be honest.

like, the narrative actively starts to fall apart in 13x01 if you don't take dean and cas being in love/in a relationship as a given, but even episodes like 12x10 and 12x19 imply something was already happening with them.

so. yeah.

[lifeofpriya]

hiii would you write one of your awesome stories for jack week with numbers 24 and 27 from the hugging prompt? To reconcile & i’m not going anywhere? Thankyouuu 🥰

hiiii!!! you got it, anon 🥰🫡 sorry if the fic is a little short though 😔 i'm still working on getting the rest of the requests remaining in my inbox complete 👍🏼

Not Going Anywhere

wc: 1.5k

"Oh, it's you," you murmur, your eyes meeting Jack's for the first time in what feels like an eternity. The sun sets over the cobblestone streets of London, casting a warm glow across the bustling café where you both sit. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the distant sound of laughter mingle awkwardly with the silence that stretches between you.

Jack looks at you with a tentative smile. His eyes, once filled with the passion that had set your world alight, now seem to hold a sadness that mirrors your own. You remember the way his strong arms had once wrapped around you, the gentle touch of his hand, the sound of his voice whispering sweet nothings into the quiet of the night. But that was before the endless tournaments, the interviews—before the world demanded so much of him that he had nothing left to give you.

He reaches out, his hand hovering over the table, and you instinctively place yours underneath it. The warmth of his palm sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the love that had once burned so fiercely. "I didn't know you'd be here," he says, his voice a soft rumble that echoes in the quiet corners of your heart.

You look away, watching the street performers outside the café, their movements a blur of color and sound. "Neither did I," you reply, your voice barely audible over the clinking of silverware and the murmur of the London evening. "But here we are."

Jack's hand retreats slightly, but you feel the electricity of his touch lingering on your skin. "I've missed you," he says, and you can hear the sincerity in his tone. "So much has changed since…" His voice trails off, unable to put into words the chasm that had grown between you.

You nod, looking back at him. His hair is longer now, curling slightly at the edges, and there's a newfound maturity in his gaze that wasn't there before. The lines around his eyes speak of late nights and early mornings, of the pressure of the world stage that he's come to conquer. But there's something else too, something vulnerable, as if he's missed more than just the familiar comfort of your presence.

"Yeah, so much has changed, hasn't it?" you reply, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. You take a sip of your hot beverage, the warmth spreading through your body as you try to find the words to express the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

Jack nods, his eyes searching yours. "I know I wasn't there for you when you needed me the most," he says, his voice filled with regret. "The travel, the training—it all just consumed me."

You bite your lip, feeling the sting of his words. It's true; the relentless grind of his career had taken its toll. "And I was so caught up in my own world," you admit. "We just… drifted."

Jack's hand finds yours again, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. "But we're here now," he says, hope glinting in his eyes. "Can we… talk?"

You nod, taking a deep breath. The air is cool, carrying the scent of rain-dampened earth. "What is there to say?"

Jack's thumb pauses on your hand, and he looks at you with a determination you haven't seen in a while. "Everything. I want to know everything that's happened to you."

You hesitate, unsure of where to start. But then you find yourself opening up, the words spilling out like water from a broken dam. You tell him about your new job, the people you've met, the little moments that filled the void he left behind. And as you speak, you realize how much you've grown, how much you've learned about yourself and the world around you.

Jack listens intently, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he's trying to absorb every syllable, every emotion that you convey. He nods, smiles, and even laughs at the right moments, his gaze filled with empathy and understanding. You feel a weight lifting from your chest as the words flow freely between you, bridging the gap that had once felt so insurmountable.

As the evening deepens, the café lights flicker on, casting a warm, intimate glow over the table. You notice the way Jack's eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs, the way his hair catches the light, the curve of his smile that had once been so familiar. It's as if no time has passed at all, and yet everything is different. You've both grown, both changed, but the spark between you remains, undiminished.

You begin to talk about your dreams and fears, the moments of doubt that had plagued you in the aftermath of your breakup. You speak of your love for the quiet simplicity of life, the joy found in the mundane that had been lost in the glitz and glamour of his tennis world. And as you speak, you feel a gentle squeeze of your hand, a silent acknowledgment of your pain.

Jack, in turn, shares his own trials—the loneliness of hotel rooms, the burden of expectations, and the fleeting nature of victory. He tells you about the quiet moments before a match, when all he could think of was your calming presence, and how he wished you were there to share in his triumphs and defeats.

As you listen, you feel the pieces of your heart, once shattered, slowly knit themselves back together. The connection between you is palpable, the air thick with unspoken apologies and silent promises. You realize that the person you've been longing for is still there, beneath the layers of fame and success.

"I've missed the quiet nights," Jack says, his voice wistful. "The simple pleasure of just being with you."

You nod, understanding all too well. "I've missed that too," you admit. The words hang in the air, charged with a longing that resonates deep within you.

Jack's eyes searched yours, and you see the question lingering there. "Can we have that again?" he asks, his voice a gentle caress against the fabric of the evening.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the warmth of his hand enveloping yours. "I'd like that," you murmur, the words coming out as a soft sigh. The café around you seems to fade into the background as you lean closer, the distance between you evaporating like mist in the morning sun.

Jack's eyes light up, a hint of the boy you once knew shining through the man he's become. "Really?" he asks, hope blossoming across his features.

You nod, feeling the same hope unfurl within your chest. "Really," you echo, your voice more assertive now. "But we need to promise to make time for each other, to be present in the moments that matter."

Jack's smile widens, the warmth of it reaching into the very core of your being. "I promise," he says, his thumb brushing against the inside of your palm in a gentle caress. "I'll make it work this time."

You look into his eyes, the hazel pools that had once been your sanctuary. "And I promise to support you, even when you're a world away," you reply, the words a soft whisper that carry the weight of your commitment.

Jack's grip tightens, a silent affirmation of his own promises. "We can do this," he says with a nod, his voice filled with a conviction that you haven't heard in a long time.

The café buzzes with life around you, a symphony of clinking glasses and laughter that seems to crescendo as the realization sinks in—you've both decided to give your love another chance. The warmth of his hand in yours is a promise that you both intend to keep.

He abruptly stood up from the chair, pulling you gently to your feet as well. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "I'm not going anywhere without you," he murmured, the words a vow that seemed to resonate through the very air.

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth of his breath fanning across your face. The world outside the café faded away, and all that existed was the two of you, standing in the warm cocoon of your shared history and hopeful future.

Jack leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread of possibility. And then, without any more words, he kissed you, and the world tilted on its axis.

The kiss was tender, a gentle reintroduction of your mouths, a soft reminder of the love that had once bound you. You melted into him, feeling the familiar strength of his arms, the steady beat of his heart. The café, the street performers, the hum of conversation, all of it washed away in the intensity of the moment.

As you pulled back, breathless and smiling, you saw the joy in Jack's eyes, a spark that had been missing for so long. He leaned in again, whispering against your lips, "Let's not let go this time."

[homeofthemany]

jack versus kai

& versus his past!

part 1, part 2, part 3

first part of my breakdown of 1x19, "kickin' it in china", that was supposed to be in my last post. i'd recommend reading it for context because i drift out of canon territory in some heavier ways that might not make sense here if you haven't already looked at it. (:

up until this point in the series, jack has been a pretty cool, confident, & unshakable kid, but we also haven't learned anything about him. we know he was trained by his grandfather [who's a karate master], but that's about it. he's incredibly skilled in martial arts & clearly very talented, but he's a very normal & down to earth guy. then we meet kai, and things sort of start to fall apart.

TW for light discussion of ptsd & trauma. super light, super nonspecific.

where is jack, mentally? who is kai?

jack gets to go to china to fight in a tournament that he's, in his words, been dreaming of ever since he started training. woohoo! this is good! i'm sure he feels very accomplished & reassured of his skill level after being accepted to compete in the championship! maybe he can actually get over what happened with that random kid named kai he mentioned! jack is seeing a future for himself in martial arts again and is training in a new, healthy environment with people he likes. what's more important to him is that they seem to like him back!

the first thing we learn about kai is that he's the only opponent jack has lost to, and it was so devastating to him [likely physically and emotionally] that he gives up on karate until he moves to seaford. he seems uncomfortable talking about the subject and clearly doesn't want to elaborate, which i think can show "can show", since this is a kids show & they can't go too into detail that he's still somewhat insecure about his skill even though he rationally knows that he's the best in their dojo.

while we're making assumptions based off of writing choices, i think it's interesting that he confides in rudy & kim, intentionally keeping this from the other three; jack goes out of his way to talk to them outside. i like to think that he knows that they look up to him so he didn't want to talk about it in front of them, but logically this is just the writers keeping the a-plot separate from the b-plot lol. everybody, especially jerry, should've been involved, but i get that it's a kids show & they need to balance out the heavy stuff with the silly stuff.

the next thing we learn about this mysterious kai opponent comes from the man himself! this match jack is talking about apparently happened two years ago ["i thought i beat the karate out of you two years ago."], so not at all close to the start of the series. this is something that deeply affected jack, enough to have made him give up on something that really matters to him. if we assume that kickin' it follows the standard full season = full year formula, then kai would've beaten jack probably about a year before the start of the show, maybe a little over that, since 1x19 would be happening by the end of that season year.

i could make a whole separate post about jack's [c-]ptsd via his grandfather [long-term] & the fight with kai [one main standalone traumatic event], but the gist is that i cannot see a reality where that fight doesn't absolutely wreck him in more ways than one. jack was beaten so badly that he dropped karate, something he was probably training in since he could walk, for an entire year. that poor kid absolutely develops ptsd.

he also had no intentions of returning to it until he met jerry, milton, eddie, & rudy. even still, he almost chooses to walk out on them until he realizes that they're just as passionate about karate as he probably was as a younger kid. jack insists that he's not a karate guy and is a self-proclaimed skater boy, but it's clear that he still loves it and loves the culture [& action movies teehee] surrounding it.

next part (:

[dilatorywriting]

tbf I don't think I've ever met like a... instant Rook simp, if you know what I mean? Like someone who just looked at his character design from day 1, knowing nothing about him, and just went "THAT'S THE ONE". I never meet those people. I question if they exist.

Instead, every Rook simp I meet always says their first impression was some variation on "bowlcut", and then sometime later had an epiphany that they would gladly take that man as their husband, actually. I myself am also included in that. Rook snuck up on me in a way that no other character ever has done.

There I was, doing something absolutely mundane one evening, mulling over the pieces of what soon became the first brainrot I sent you. In particular, I'm turning over the part where Baker!Reader decides they're going to lie and say they're marrying Rook. And my brain decides to fire off one of its many, automatic, intrusive thoughts. And that thought is "because yeah, I'd marry Rook, honestly."

Cut to me staring at the wall in disbelief for the next half an hour, self reflecting, and realizing that not only was I a Rook simp, but that I'd been one for awhile, and never noticed. And not only that, but Rook had done some impressive stealth rock climbing up the sheer cliff face that was the difference in devotion between my favorite twst character, and the one who I thought was in 2nd place (Jack). Instead, as I peeked over the edge of that metaphorical cliff, Rook is waving cheerfully at me from a ledge about 10 feet down from the top, taking the spot of second place for himself and demoting poor Jack to 3rd place. I have no conscious recollection of falling in love with Rook, and I have no earthly idea how he got all the way up there. Yet there he was, 2nd place and dangerously close to the top, and there I was, going through the realization that if he proposed I'd accept in a heartbeat.

Huntsman indeed.

-Reaper

The thing with Rook that is just so loveable is that he is not only a genuinely good person but he's just so fun. There hasn't been a single interaction of his from in the Books, to his vignettes, to events, that I haven't enjoyed tremendously. Some of the guys and their dialogue/problems can start to feel tedious after a lot of clicking, but never Rook. He's just such an absolute wild card with a heart of gold and questionable morality. I adore him and also was one of those 'haha bowl cut' people.

[phychohex]

I Met a Vampire Down in Santa Carla (Chapter ten)

TRIGGER WARNING. There are mentions of alcohol and its consumption. There is also drug use, but it's only weed. After the last chapter, I made a happy, good time chapter. 

The last few days have been hell. I've been frozen in place. My life consisting of total isolation. All I've been able to do within the last two weeks is sleep, go to work, then repeat. I haven't had the excuse of going to DND or band practice because Alex went on a family vacation. The only reason I'm not at home right now is because if Steve catches me calculating all my funds, he might take them. So now I'm sitting in a random bar on the boardwalk trying to see if I'm close to affording a place for me and mom. It is hard tho, from the loud music to me not being the best at math. 

My nose is assaulted by the smell of Jack Daniel's and regret. I glance over to see some random drunk guy making his spot next to me. I roll my eyes, scooting my chair a bit. "So what is a girl like you doing in a place like this?" he slurs. 

"Minding my business," I don't look up from my work, trying to keep what little focus I had. 

"Aw don't be like that sweetheart. How 'bout a drink hmm?" He leans his head down, trying to get me to look at him. His breath reeked from him being shitfaced. I hate that fucking smell. The smell that burns of bad memories. Realizing this asshat won't take the hint I pull out my phone and text david. 'this guy won't fuck off.' I didn't have time to put my phone down before it dinged with a response. 'Who?' 'At this bar and this guy won't take a hint. Could you come by and help?' I hope to god he is quick about it. 'Just pretend you are my boyfriend and have been at the bar this whole time or something.' I suggest. My phone is ripped from my hands and slammed on the counter. "It's not nice to ignore company," he snaps. "How 'bout you let me take you out and show you some manners hmm?" I gag at this man's repulsive behavior. I glance around the room, hoping David shows up, or is at least on his way. Out in the crowd I see him walking through the door. My knight in shiny leather. 

"Not a good idea, my boyfriend has a nasty temper," I warn, waving David over. He notices me and makes his way over. Just by looking you can tell he isn't pleased. He changed the whole vibe of the entire bar. It got quite as people moved out of his way and looked down, speaking only amongst each other. It has to be my imagination though. There is no way people would do that, this isn't a cheesy 80's romance movie. Before I could realize he is right next to me, an arm leaning on the bar, the other holding the back of my chair. Caging me between him and the drunk. My nose no long raped by the smell of alcohol. Instead it was filled with his cologne. 

"You okay baby," He smiles down at me. I nod my voice caught in my throat. I didn't expect that. Even though I did tell him to pretend to be my boyfriend. "Good. Hey asshole if I ever get a text from her to come help I'll gut you" his voice was dark. The guy stands nearly falling on his ass. 

"Oh yeah I'd like to see you fucking try" A whole new problem starting. I start hastily tossing my things into my bag. 

"Let's go," I get down and he places a hand on my waist guiding me out never breaking eye contact from the drunk stranger. Once out of the bar I let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks" I smile. We walk to the bikes where the others waited. 

"Who do I have to fuck up" Marko shouts smiling. I shake my head chuckling. "You okay?" 

"Yeah, I am" I nod "My car is at home, do you think I can catch a ride," I ask anxiously. 

"Why didn't you drive?" Dwayne asks. 

"It's nice out" I lie. They look amongst themselves knowing I lied. It's the middle of summer in Santa Carla, there is no way in hell it's nice out. More like swimming in the devils ass. "So, is it okay?" 

"Yeah," David gets on "But you're riding with me" I get on behind him wrapping my arms around his waist holding on tight. 

"Let's go to the hideout first," Paul smirks. I nod, not sure what they are talking about. With the roar of the engine we take off. I bury my head in his back, eyes shut tight. I felt like my heart was going to leap out from my chest. I held onto him like he was a lifeline. By the time we stop I'm still hanging on. I feel a pat on my back. "We're here," I look up noticing the beach. There is a cave opening. 

"Where are we?" I ask 

"Home" Marko runs past me. I follow into a dimly lit hideout. It was a wreck, sure but it held its own charm. "This is where we hang out most of the time. This used to be a hotel that fell in the 20s. After some time, this part of it was found by us. Of course all the decor and shit we did."

"What if it caves in?" I ask, looking around amazed. 

"It won't, we've been here a long time," Dwayne comes up from behind. "It's a hotel that fell when an earthquake happened. The structure it'self is sucre" 

"Like Atlantis," I ask, making my way to the main area of the fallen hotel. 

"Yep, our own personal kingdom," David sits down on an old rusted wheelchair that sat almost center stage bathed in moonlight. It lights him as if he were the star of a stage play. "Want a drink?" He asks. A tension invaded the air. The boys looked to each other just like they previously had when I lied. David snaps his fingers and Paul hands him a wine bottle. It was pretty having gold metal and red jewels. 

"What is it?" I ask sitting on a stool across from him. 

"Wine," he smiles, gesturing at me. I shake my head. 

"No thanks" His smile fades and he leans back. 

"Why have you been distant?" his words were harsh. I'm a bit taken aback by his sudden harshness. 

"My step dad," I found myself telling the truth for reasons unknown to myself. "He has just been an ass. More of an ass then usual. Plus I haven't been feeling too good since I hit my head."

"How did you hit your head?" he tilts his head, focusing on every word like it was gospel. 

"I fell down the stairs," my mouth felt dry. Is now the time to tell the full truth. It isn't like they can do anything. The tension in the air is suffocating. I change the topic quickly. "What are you guys doing for the fourth?" I smile, breaking the intense eye contact from David. 

"Anything you do gorgeous" Paul smirks. 

"My friends are having a big bonfire, you guys should come, it will be lots of fun," I exclaimed. "I want you guys to meet them. They've been wanting to meet you guys as well." 

"Okay, we'll be there," Dwayne gets up, "I'll take you home." He offers I follow trying to ignore the look David gave. As if he was shooting daggers at my head. What did I do? Saying no to a drink should be fine, he knows I don't drink, so why offer. It hurt that he would get so pissy about it. There has to be something that I'm missing. 

After Dwayne had dropped me off, I went straight to bed. I found myself in that same loop again. That is until tonight. The fourth is finally here and I get to party with my favorite people. I start to clean from my last client. Tyler and I get the night off early to celebrate. He has still been getting on my nerves. It's like he is just always there lurking. I decided to rebel a bit. I'll be out all night, spending it at the shack, which meant I get to embrace being myself. I'm wearing an AC/DC crop top with fishnet sleeves. Black shorts that go to mid thigh and ankle height boots. 

I show up at the shack hearing music blasting. I notice Alex and Sarah, his wife, trying to get their kids in line. As I get out, Kayla rushes over hugging me. "Did you invite them?" she asks, having been the most anxious to meet the boys.

"Yeah, they should be here soon. Do you need any help setting shit up" She drags me to the kitchen where all kinds of barbecue sat. Will must've been cooking all day for this kind of spread. Twenty minutes go by, setting everything up and getting plates out to everyone. I go to help start the bonfire. I look at my phone, it is nearing ten, so I shoot David a text.' You guys are still coming right?' I put my phone up and set up the marshmallows. I hear the roar of the motorcycles. I look over to them as they are parking. I felt a weight of relief wash over me as a tension in my chest that I didn't know I was holding let go. I  walk over to greet them. Marko runs up and hugs me, doing a Disney twirl. I hear Kayla coming up. "Guys, this is Marko, Paul, and Dwayne, boys, this is Kayla. Over there, is Will he cooked all the meat for tonight. Alex is with the kids in the house with Sarah. I think Lilly and Josh are in the house as well." I try to make sure I got everyone. We make our way over to the shack. Paul went to Will, who is rolling a blunt. We all talk amongst ourselves as people go into their own mini groups to get to know each other better. 

Kayla has completely gotten the attention of Dwayne talking about some band. Marko was in the DND room looking and touching everything. Paul was helping roll blunts and joints. I needed one bad from the stress of everything. The hell going on at home is enough to drive someone to weed, not to mention work being hell right now. I grab a joint and head out by the bonfire away from everyone. I didn't notice David was following close behind. I stand on the porch and try to light it. "Didn't take you for a smoker," I jump from the sudden presence that was always there. 

"I'm not usually, but it's a holiday," He pulls out a lighter and lights it for me. "Thanks," I take a long puff and sigh in relief. It was the good shit that's for sure. We walk over to the bonfire that was left on its own. We sit down on the bench. "Are you still mad?" I ask sheepishly. 

"Who said I was mad?" he leans back having his arm lazily draped on the back of the bench.

"You just seemed upset that I didn't drink that wine," I shrug.

"It is okay. I knew you'd say no but didn't think it hurt to ask. I was more upset that I got ghosted." I kick a pebble under my foot.

"Sorry, it's just things aren't going that good at home. Plus Tyler is making work annoying. Did I tell you how he didn't tell anyone he used all the red ink. I needed it for a client and when I went to go see if there was more there wasn't any, so I got chewed out by a guy twice my size." I take another puff, the effects making it's way through.

"I understand. If you need help."

"I don't," I scold as panic sets in. "I can handle it." I take a deep breath. "It's not that I don't want to drink either, it's just I've seen what it does to people. I don't want to do something I will regret." 

"What if? Hear me out," He leans forward."I don't drink at all tonight, and you drink. I won't let you do anything stupid or embarrassing." I look at him trying to think. Should I really just betray my rule even for one night? 

"You promise," my voice was quite trying to find any hints of a lie. He holds out a pinky.

"I promise" I hold back. I want to just let go and have fun. It is tempting, as tempting as going on a diet, but someone offers you your favorite food. He is going to be the death of me, I just know it. Even though everything in my mind screamed to say no, everything else said yes. I connect our pinkies. It is time to learn to trust people again. He has earned that. "Here" he hands me the bottle in his hand. "it isn't strong so you won't get shitfaced off it" I hold it in my hand trying to get the nerve to take a sip. He sits there with a shit eating grin. I closed my eyes and took a long swing back. It burnt going down and tasted like what one could assume lighter fluid tastes like. I coughed handing it back. He laughs his ass off nearly falling forward. I hit his arm playfully. 

"God that taste like motor fluid why do you drink this shit" I cough. 

"I didn't think you'd chug it" He laughs. "I can get you a sissy drink if you want?" I nod although the want for alcohol is gone. He gets up and heads into the house as I put the joint out. I didn't finish it yet, but I don't think it's good to just let perfectly good weed go to waste. I look up at the stars, my mind going blank on any real thought. Not even the sinking feeling of regret is there. It's peaceful. Until I feel someone sit next to me and the sounds of laughter of everyone making it to the bonfire. David is back sitting next to as if he never left. He hands me a can and before I can fully take it he points in my face to gain my full attention. "You sip this okay?" he smirks. I roll my eyes nodding. He turns his attention to the group. "So how did you all meet?" 

"I've known Rory since the third grade," Lilly starts. "She was playing alone in the dirt. I went over and she was holding a bug. I tried to get her to drop it until she started listing facts on it." She smiles 

"Awe, I remember that didn't you two raise it," Kayla teases. "Lilly introduced me to her. She was new in town."

"What kind of bug was it?" Marko asks 

"rollie pollie" I smile "His name was Sir Rollsworth the third." I give my best British accent. "Had him for like three weeks before, one of us dropped him and he got lost."

"We all didn't meet until sixth grade tho. The girls were already in a band by that point. Lilly's dad was the drummer. I took his place not that long after we all met." Alex leans forward. "How 'bout you guys, how did you all meet?" 

"We were all taken in by this guy. Max, he died a while ago. We have been together ever since." Dwayne shrugs. I glance up at David, he was listening closely. I couldn't read what was going through his mind. His expression was void of emotion. He glances down at me and smiles. Whatever trance he was in was gone. As the night went on, we swapped stories from our youth. Hell, we are still young but there is nothing like reminiscing of the past. Once the shitty fireworks we got where lit and the kids fell asleep the real party started. 

We sat inside the bonfire long since dissipated. Everyone besides David and Alex are drunk by this point. "okay okay okay smash or pass," Paul sits in the circle. "If you smash you drink. We'll go in a circle and say someone." With that, the game starts. "David Bowie." I take a sip as do all the girls and Marko. "Will Smith" Lilly was the only one to drink. "Brad Pitt" Kayla and Lilly. Once her glass is slammed down, Kayla slurs her words. "You two are fucking liars."

"I'm sorry, he just isn't it for me" I shake my head. "Also this is bullshit we haven't named any women." 

"Fine," Kayla sits back, "Drew Berrymore," I glare at her before taking a sip. 

"No shit really" Paul has a shit eating grin. I flip him off. "Rachel from friends." Alex, Will, and Josh all drink. "Tiffiany from bride of chucky" 

"Oh fuck yeah" I take a sip. The alcohol is making me a bit more honest with my opinions. Little did I know David, Dwayne, Marko, and almost all the guys drank to that. It was Lilly's turn,

"Ghostface?" 

"Which one?" Kayla asks 

"does it matter" 

"Yes it matters. It's a smash if it's stu" I hold up my drink waiting to see if it is a true smash or pass.

"What about Billy?"

"No fuck Billy. He is a douche bag" 

"I'm sorry, but they are both serial killers," Sarah, who wasn't playing, pipes up. 

"With or without the mask," Paul asks, looking at his drink, focusing, trying to take in as much information as he could. 

"Both" us three girls say in unison before bursting into a fit of laughter. It rolls around 2 am and everything was winding down. The boys are getting ready to head out. I walk them to the bikes the best of my ability. I'm not shitfaced but it is obvious that I'm drunk. 

"You want a ride home," David offers. 

"No thanks, I'm staying the night here. If I were to pull up with you, my stepdad will kill me." I chuckle "Bringing home another asshole on a bike you've done it now girl" I mock.

"You have a type", He teases. 

I snicker, "yeah, I should probably rethink my choices," he stops in front of me. I look up in his clear blue eyes. He takes a small bit of the end of my hair, playing with it. 

"So if I asked you right now you'd say no?" I was shell shocked sober. 

"I don't know." I admit "I don't know if I'm ready yet." He lets my hair fall. 

"Well, I'm here whenever you're ready, Guppie." He then leaves on his bike, leaving me wishing I'd man up and say yes. 

[trialofheartsrpg]

THE INSATIABLE, ALUMNUS ✦ M ✦ 27.

JACK OF SPADES, POWER IS YOUR BIRTHRIGHT, CONTROL YOUR FIRST LOVE. Knowing the fortune you’ll inherit coils in your ribs like a sickness without a cure. You have never starved, never ached, never known the sting of denied desire—only the bottomless, yawning maw of excess, swallowing everything whole. Your father’s construction empire stretches like a leviathan across (South-)East Asia — extravagant malls, sky-high towers, penthouses built in Singapore, Tokyo, Shanghai. You were raised in the halls of loud luxury, tutored in deceit, baptized in the weight of a name that bends cities to its will. And if you do not bother to mask it? If your power gleams too sharply in the light, if they see it in your smile, if they know you are playing them—what of it? They will still kneel. Life’s too easy, the world too small, and you cannot help it, can you? You choke on your own ambition, yet you could never spit it out. You reach, higher, higher, each conquest outdoing the last. You could have been a king, but that is too little, too common. No—you were made to be a god. And though the wings on your back are gilded in your family’s legacy, even gold can melt.

DYNAMICS

THE GAMBIT✦ I HAVEN'T MET ANYONE LIKE YOU.

YOU TWO CARVED OUT A KINGDOM of your own beneath neon lights, between the bass of clubs and the hush of rooftops at dawn. You made a pact over stolen bottles and cigarette smoke—if the world would drown you, you would drown laughing. And so you both spiral together, wrapped in bad decisions, devouring excess like dying stars. Nights bleed into mornings, grins sharp, laughter loud, clothes wrinkled from bodies that never rest. You and THE GAMBIT are invincible. Untouchable. Gods on Earth. Until, of course, you two aren't. Because hedonism has an edge, and one of you is going to slip. One of you will leave first. Maybe they will get tired of the fall, of the high. Maybe they will let go. But for now, you and THE GAMBIT are still here. Two brothers, caught in the gravity of each other’s ruin.

THE LAMB ✦ PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE.

IS THIS WHAT THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST RETELLING LOOKS LIKE? You, all thunder and motion, a force that crashes through rooms, leaving echoes of laughter and chaos in your wake. They call you relentless, call you unstoppable, say you move like a bullet train with no brakes, no hesitation, no fear. But then— THE LAMB. With THE LAMB, the storm stills. The weight of your presence, the sharpness of your voice — it all shrinks, folds inward, like a beast curling in on itself, wary of its own claws. You speak softer, as if afraid your voice might shatter the air between you. You move slower, as if one wrong step might send them running. And that terrifies you, doesn’t it? That you—who have never cared for the opinions of the world, who have never learned restraint, who have never known how to be anything but too much—suddenly ache to be gentle.

THE LOGICIAN ✦ FOOL ME THREE TIMES, SHAME ON BOTH.

IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY. After-all, you bend people like wire, twist them into whatever shape you please, watch them fold beneath the weight of your attention. But not THE LOGICIAN. The first time, they slipped through your grasp like sand. The second, they turned the game against you before you even realized you were playing. The third? You should have won. But they met your move with one of their own, as if they had read your mind before you even thought to make the choice. And now, you despise them. Despise the way they stand unshaken, the way they do not yield, do not falter, do not bend the way everyone else does. Despise how, for the first time, you are being dismissed entirely. You should let this go. But you won’t. Because nothing grips you like a challenge unanswered. And if they refuse to break — Then you will find another way to bring them to their knees.

OPEN ✦ SUGGESTED FC: LIANG JI YUAN