#i hate that part of me is still waiting for you to come back

[nhlclover]

ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR QUINN HUGHES

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!reader, (little bit of) jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: trevor invites you to a lakehouse for the summer, attempting to set him up with his friend. however, the summer doesn't go to plan when you meet his older brother who captures your eye and flips everything upside down.

warnings: very obviously angst, sort of a love triangle, jack and quinn kind of hating each other, slow burn, reader and trevor having a sibling type relationship, one singular kiss, brief appearances from trevor & luke

word count: 11.6k

notes: wooooo mama this is the absolute longest thing i've ever written. i really hope you guys enjoy it, i'm pretty happy with this.

The scene of the lake house standing tall in front of you was something straight out of your imagination. It was picturesque, the way the large house was nestled amongst the pine trees and the glimmering water sparkling behind it. It was just the way that Trevor had described it when he invited (or rather insisted) you to come to his buddy’s lake house this summer.

“You’ll love it! It’s so nice up there,” Trevor had urged, his enthusiasm infectious. You could still hear his voice, brimming with excitement. “It’s my friend Jack’s place. You guys would get along great! And his brothers are super chill too.”

At the time, you’d felt a mix of curiosity and skepticism. It’d been about three years you’d been friends with Trevor, long enough to know that when his tone got this excited and he was this insistent, he was up to something.

“Are you trying to set me up with him?” you’d asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at Trevor as the two of you sat in a coffee shop a few months ago. He had been uncharacteristically fidgety, bouncing his knee up and down while stirring his iced coffee with an unnecessary amount of focus.

Trevor had grinned at you in that annoyingly charming way he did when he was caught. “Nooo, I’m just saying you guys would vibe. He’s a cool guy. Super chill.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. “Uh-huh. And his brothers?”

“Also cool!” Trevor leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But listen, Jack’s the one I think you’d really like. Just come for like, a week or two, see what happens. No pressure. I promise you’ll have fun.”

You’d hesitated, not entirely convinced. But Trevor knew exactly how to play on your curiosity, and a month later, you found yourself packing a bag for a summer getaway at some lake house owned by Trevor’s friend, Jack. Despite your reservations, a part of you was intrigued. What if Trevor was right?

The drive to the lake house had been a blur, punctuated by Trevor’s nonstop chatter and your own uncertain silence. You weren’t opposed to meeting Jack. Trevor had sung his praises for months, claiming you two had more in common than either of you realized. As far as setups went, this wasn’t terrible — you could trust Trevor to have good judgment. But still, you were unsure and slightly uneasy about the whole situation.

When you arrive, Jack is already waiting outside, leaning against the porch rail, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts. He’s smiling — an easy, laid-back smile that makes you smile back automatically. The sun filters through the trees, casting warm, gold light on the porch, and for a moment, everything feels serene.

Trevor wasn’t lying when he commented about Jack’s appearance. “Some people call him a pretty boy but… I mean he is pretty, but he’s a good-looking dude, y’know?” He was definitely attractive, something anyone could admit you thought, but he wasn’t totally your type.

Trevor bounds up the steps of the porch, dapping up Jack and pulling him in for a hug. You followed, stopping at the bottom of the steps, watching as Trevor whispered something into Jack's ear, Jack’s eyes catching yours as a small smile appeared on his lips.

Jack steps forward, extending a hand. “Hey, you must be y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, his voice warm with that relaxed confidence you’d expect from someone who’s used to being the center of attention.

You shake his hand, feeling the easy smile on your face widen a little. “All good things, I hope.”

Trevor laughs, throwing an arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Mostly good things.” He winks at you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

Jack offers to give you a quick tour of the place, and you agree, letting him guide you inside while Trevor stays back, grumbling to himself about having to bring in your bags. The inside of the house is as beautiful as the outside, with high ceilings, wooden beams, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the lake. Despite being a new build, it has a cozy, rustic feel to it. Jack pointed out each room as you went, keeping up a steady flow of conversation that put you at ease. He was friendly and thoughtful, making sure you felt welcomed, and it struck you as genuine. You could see why Trevor thought you’d get along with him.

“And this is the back deck,” Jack said as he pushed open a sliding door, revealing a sprawling view of the lake, with a dock stretching out in front of the property. The lake is glittering and relatively calm, aside from a figure disturbing the water. You squint, watching as the swimmer glides smoothly through the lake.

“Who’s that?” you ask Jack, eyes not leaving the figure as you watch him pull himself up onto the wooden dock, pushing dark wet hair from his face.

“That’s Quinn,” Jack says, following your gaze and glancing out toward the dock. “My older brother.”

The sun seems to linger on Quinn’s form, highlighting the toned muscles in his arms as he stretches briefly, rolling his shoulders to ease out any lingering tension from his swim. Droplets of water cling to his skin, catching the sunlight and tracing down his chest in slow, winding trails emphasizing the smooth contours of his muscles as they glisten.

“Q!” Jack shouts, whistling to get his brother’s attention. Quinn’s gaze snaps to the two of you, your pulse quickening as his eyes land on you. “Come up here!”

Quinn grabs his towel from the dock, throwing it over his shoulder as he makes his way up the lawn towards you. As he climbs the steps to the deck, you feel his eyes travel over you, not in a way that feels intimidating, but with a curiosity that mirrors your own. There’s something magnetic about him, something calm and steady that draws you in as he steps up onto the deck, his mouth curving into a small, barely-there smile.

“This is Trevor’s friend, y/n. She’s joining us for the summer” Jack introduces.

As Quinn’s gaze flickers back to you, you notice there’s something about the way he looks at you — subtle, assessing. His gaze has a certain depth, a look you can’t quite decipher. It lingers just a second longer than what feels typical, enough to make your heartbeat skip, to leave you questioning the flicker of interest in his expression.

“Nice to meet you,” Quinn says, his voice low and smooth, a perfect complement to the quiet confidence he exudes. He reaches out to shake your hand, and as your fingers meet, you notice how warm his touch feels, even with the cool water droplets still lingering on his skin.

Up close, he’s even more striking. There’s a sort of ruggedness to him, outlined by the sharpness of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. His eyes, a greenish shade of blue, hold yours with a calm intensity that makes it hard to look away.

“Nice to meet you too,” you manage, your voice coming out softer than you intended, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You mentally kick yourself, hoping he doesn’t notice, but the glimmer in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Jack, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Alright, well, there’s more to see, and if we don’t get back, Trevor’s going to start whining about being abandoned,” he joked.

You chuckle, your eyes pulling away from Quinns’ for the first time since he joined you on the porch. But as you turned to follow Jack back inside, you couldn’t help but glance back at Quinn. He was still watching you, his expression softened just slightly, and you felt a quiet thrill at the way he watched you.

The first week at the lakehouse passes in a flurry of days that blur together in laughter and lakeside relaxation. You fall into an easy routine of swimming, grilling, and long talks on the deck. Jack and Trevor keep things lively, always organizing something, whether it’s an impromptu game of cornhole, a daring cliff dive, or a spontaneous trip into town.

With Jack, the connection forms fast. He’s lighthearted, quick with a joke, and endlessly charming. He keeps you laughing and keeps the vibe lighthearted. His energy is infectious, and he keeps you roped into every activity, whether it’s cliff-jumping or getting you to help him with dinner when it’s his turn. You can tell that Trevor’s plan to get the two of you set up is working for Jack, as he lingers closer, laughs harder at your jokes, and you begin to feel his gaze linger on you just a little too long.

But it’s Quinn who holds your attention in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Quinn is different from Jack in nearly every way. Where Jack is open and quick to draw you into his orbit, Quinn lingers on the edges, observing and listening. When he speaks, it’s with a low, steady voice that commands attention without trying. And unlike Jack’s energy, which feels like the buzz of the sun overhead, Quinn’s is deep and mysterious like the lake.

You find yourself gravitating toward him at every opportunity, captivated by the way he moves through the days with an unruffled calm. The nights at the lake house slip into an easy rhythm, with Quinn and you inevitably being the last ones awake as the both of you are night owls. Most nights, you find yourselves lingering on the porch, wrapped in the gentle hum of crickets and the low whisper of the lake. With the others upstairs, fast asleep, you and Quinn fall into intimate conversations, shared only between the two of you.

One night, you find yourselves tucked away on the porch, the air a little cooler than the other nights. You are curled up on a rocking chair, bundled up in a hoodie you’d borrowed from Jack. Quinn sat across from you, the beer he’d started during dinner going warm in his hand.

Quinn studies you, his eyes catching the faint glow of the porch light as he swirls his bottle absentmindedly. “So,” he begins, breaking the comfortable silence, “What’s California like?” He leans forward, genuinely interested, his voice carrying a warmth that makes you want to spill everything about life on the West Coast.

A soft smile creeps onto your face. “It’s… different from here,” you admit, glancing out at the lake where the moon dances on the still water. “It’s a bit fast-paced. And warm. Lots of sun, lots of people. But sometimes, it feels like everyone’s moving so quickly that you get lost in the crowd.”

Quinn nods, his eyes steady on you. “I get it. I feel the same way about Vancouver sometimes. Coming back here… it just reminds me that there's more than the noise and rush. There’s… balance out here.” He gestures out toward the lake, his voice contemplative. “Like all of this has a way of pulling you back to what matters.”

His words resonate deeply, and you find yourself nodding. “Exactly,” you murmur. “It’s like there’s space to breathe. And you notice things that usually get lost in all the… chaos.”

Quinn’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you came. It’s been… good to have you here,” he says quietly, his eyes soft. “We don’t have other people up here often.”

Your heart pounds a little faster at the sincerity in his voice, and for a second, the rest of the world disappears. There’s only Quinn and the quiet lake, and the feeling that he understands you in a way you hadn't expected anyone to. You hold his gaze, feeling the electricity between you grow, filling the silence with something you can’t quite name.

But then, as if drawn back to reality, Quinn’s eyes shift, his expression subtly changing. “And Jack,” he says, almost as an afterthought. “He… really likes you, you know? He doesn’t say it, but I can tell.”

It feels like a splash of cold water. You break eye contact, pulling your hoodie closer around you, the warmth you felt moments ago dissipating. The weight of Jack’s interest hangs heavily between you and Quinn now, an undeniable reminder of the complicated line you’re toeing.

“Right, yeah…” you reply softly, looking down, your voice tinged with a mix of guilt and frustration. You hadn’t meant for this to get complicated, yet here you are, caught between two brothers who couldn’t be more different.

An uncomfortable silence settles over you both, thick and heavy. Quinn’s eyes linger on you, as if he’s about to say something more, but he holds back. His lips press into a thin line, and you wonder if he’s feeling the same conflict, the same confusion that’s twisting knots inside you.

You force yourself to look away, swallowing hard. “I think… I should probably head to bed,” you murmur, avoiding his gaze. You stand up, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Goodnight, Quinn.”

Quinn nods, his expression unreadable as he watches you ebb towards the door. “Goodnight, y/n,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady, though there’s a flicker of something in his gaze — disappointment, perhaps, or longing. You slip inside, leaving him on the porch, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back as you close the door.

In bed, you toss and turn, Quinn’s words and the feel of his gaze lingering with you. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between the easy, carefree friendship that’s growing with Jack and the simmering tension you feel with Quinn. Jack is perfectly nice and, like Trevor told you, the two of you were getting along swimmingly.

But no matter how much you try, your thoughts always drift back to Quinn. There’s something undeniably different about him, something that makes it impossible to feel the same way about Jack, no matter how hard you try. Jack’s presence is light and friendly but with Quinn… it’s like there’s a hidden gravity pulling you toward him, a quiet understanding that lingers beneath the surface of every conversation. Every night on that porch, he’s become your anchor, drawing you into a world that feels more honest, more intimate.

You lie there, staring up at the ceiling, your mind replaying the way he looked at you tonight — that almost undetectable spark that you’re sure you didn’t imagine. The way he listens to you, like every word matters, as he sees past the small talk and into the parts of you you rarely share. There’s no pretending with Quinn. And even though he’d mentioned Jack, it only made you realize how much more you’re drawn to Quinn. Jack might be developing feelings for you, but it’s Quinn who fills your thoughts, who leaves you breathless in a way you can’t ignore.

You pull the covers tighter around you, willing sleep to take you, but every thought seems to lead back to Quinn, to the way he made you feel seen, understood — even in silence.

The next morning, you do your best to shake off the lingering tension from the night before, determined to keep things light and normal. Under Jack’s enthusiastic suggestion, the group decides to spend the day out on the lake, hoping the sun and water will wash away any unease. It’s a sunny day, warm with a light breeze, and the water sparkles invitingly under the sunlight, making you think that everything might just go smoothly.

The boat is anchored in a calm spot on the lake and, despite the wonderful weather, there doesn’t seem to be another boat around. Trevor and Luke sit up in the bow, arguing about which mascot would win in a fight between Mr. Clean and Tony the Tiger.

Jack is quick to pull you into the action, handing you a beer from the cooler as he grins. “Alright,” he says, his smile as wide as the lake. “Are you ready for the full lake house experience? Because to really do that, you’ve got to jump off the boat at least once today.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you crack open the can. “I’m pretty sure you’re just making up rules to mess with me.”

He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. “Maybe, but you have to do it anyway,” he shrugs.

Trevor chimes in, chuckling from his spot. “Jack’s right, y/n. First-time lake visitors have to jump. It’s tradition!”

You chuckle, your gaze drifting up to Jack as he stands in front of you. The sun shines directly behind him, casting him in a golden halo, the bright rays spilling around his frame in a way that makes him look almost ethereal. For a moment, you can see why anyone would fall for that charm. But even with this picture-perfect moment, you feel a pang of regret that you can’t feel more for him, because, somehow, your thoughts are pulled elsewhere and on someone else.

Jack’s laughter brings you back to the moment, and he leans a little closer. “Come on, we can make it a team effort. I mean, if you’re too nervous, I can just hold your hand.” His voice is playful, but there’s a hint of sincerity in his words, a hope that you’ll let him bridge the gap he’s trying so hard to close.

Your smile is genuine, but before you can respond, you hear Quinn's low chuckle from behind you. It’s soft, barely audible over the hum of the boat’s motor, but enough to pull your focus completely away from Jack. You glance back at Quinn who’s sat on the back bench, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, a flicker of something in his gaze as it bears down on the two of you.

Your attention is pulled back to Jack as he reaches for your hand in a gesture that feels both playful and pointed. “Come on, y/n, it’ll be an official initiation. We’ll jump together, yeah?”

Your gaze flickers between Jack’s outstretched hand and Quinn, who’s watching with an inscrutable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly as he leans back, crossing his arms. You can’t deny there’s an awkward tension here, a silent push-and-pull between the two brothers that seems to amplify whenever Quinn is nearby.

Swallowing the strange, charged feeling building between you all, you look back at Jack and nod, forcing a lighthearted smile as you stand up, pulling off the oversized t-shirt you wore as a coverup. You see Jack’s eyes scan your figure, hearing him gasp quietly. You blush, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, taking his hand. He grins in triumph, his fingers warm against yours as he helps you stand at the edge of the boat. He holds on a little tighter than necessary, and the flicker of anticipation in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Jack asks, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering a bit too long as he watches your expression. There’s a hopeful vulnerability in his face, a look that makes you hesitate for a moment. You don’t want to hurt him, but there’s a part of you that wishes he’d pull back, that he’d realize you’re not as invested in this connection as he is.

You manage a nod, hoping he doesn’t notice the small sigh you let slip. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He beams, counting down with a quiet “three… two… one!” before the two of you leap into the lake together, the cool water rushing up to meet you. When you surface, you’re greeted by Jack’s laughter as he splashes you, pulling you into a playful water fight. You laugh along, though your eyes instinctively drift toward the boat, where Quinn looks over the edge, watching you both with an unreadable expression.

Jack’s laughter fades slightly as he notices your attention elsewhere, his face falling for a fraction of a second. But he quickly masks it, pulling you back with a light splash. “Hey, stay with me here,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-pleading. And you want to, you really do, but Quinn’s gaze is magnetic, and you can’t help but feel pulled toward him, as if there’s an invisible thread between the two of you.

Eventually, Jack climbs back onto the boat, reaching out to help you up. But the moment you step back on board, the charged silence returns, thick and stifling, as Quinn hands you a towel, his fingers brushing against yours just long enough to send a spark up your arm. You catch his gaze for a brief second, and you’re struck by the quiet intensity in his eyes, a longing that mirrors your own.

Jack clears his throat, his shoulders tensing slightly as he glances between you and Quinn. He lets out a forced laugh, trying to dispel the tension. “Alright, what’s next? We could always do another round of jumps, or maybe a swim to the dock?” He says it with an almost desperate cheerfulness, trying to regain your attention, trying to keep the moment light.

Trevor and Luke, sensing the tension, start bantering about who would be the fastest swimmer, their playful arguments distracting you all for a moment, lightening the mood just enough.

────୨ৎ────

The night air was crisp as laughter and the crackling of the fire filled the space around the lake house. The lake is quiet behind you, a dark, glassy surface reflecting only starlight. You were settled in a lawn chair, leaning back, watching as Trevor dramatically recounted a story about when you nearly crashed his car.

You could feel his eyes on you, searching for a shared smile, hoping to catch your gaze even as he chuckled at Trevor’s theatrics. Every so often, he'd lean in, commenting with a low murmur meant only for you. He’d even offered you his hoodie earlier, though the night wasn’t nearly cold enough to need it. It was endearing, if not a bit overeager. Yet, despite the obvious attention from him, your focus kept drifting across the fire.

Quinn sat across the flames from you, leaning back in an Adirondack chair. His attention was barely on the story, barely laughing with the others as you had been. Every now and then you’d catch his eyes flicker your way, lingering on you just long enough to send a thrill through your chest. Your stomach tightened with a quiet anticipation each time, though as quickly as the moment arrived, it vanished. Quinn’s gaze would shift, his attention lost somewhere in the darkness beyond the flames, leaving you wondering if you’d only imagined it.

As Trevor finally wrapped up his tale with an exaggerated flourish, the group’s laughter rang out again, filling the quiet night. You shifted in your chair, stealing a glance across the fire to see Quinn looking your way again, his expression unreadable in the dancing light. The firelight cast soft shadows over his face, illuminating his quiet intensity—a contrast to Jack’s open interest. And just as quickly as his eyes met yours, he looked away, his focus deliberately elsewhere, leaving you feeling a subtle ache of frustration.

Jack nudged your arm gently, his voice breaking the spell. “Hey, want to grab a drink or something? I think I saw some ciders in the cooler on the porch.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you replied, a small smile curving your lips as you pushed yourself up to join him.

You could feel the weight of Quinn’s gaze on you, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. As you walked toward the porch with Jack, a pang of prickling guilt settled over you, leaving a heavy shadow with every step. Jack was wonderful — funny, kind-hearted, and clearly eager to spend time with you. And yet, there was an emptiness in each smile you returned to him, a hollowness you couldn’t ignore. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself to appreciate his warmth and interest. But you couldn’t deny it. There was no spark, no unspoken gravity that pulled you toward him.

The two of you reached the porch, Jack handing you a cold can from the cooler, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He shot you a quick grin, the kind that seemed to hold a hundred different things he wanted to say. But the look in his eyes—the hopefulness, the eagerness—only tightened the knot in your chest.

Jack took a sip of his drink, leaning casually against the porch railing, his gaze still on you. “It’s nice here at night, isn’t it?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable softness to his voice, as though he wanted nothing more than to keep this moment between just the two of you.

“Yeah, it really is,” you agreed, looking out at the lake rather than meeting his eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Jack’s voice was quieter when he spoke this time like he was mulling something over. “You know, it’s been great having you up here. I mean…I’m glad Z brought you here.” he said softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a vulnerability there, one that made you want to reassure him, to ease the sting of your own uncertainty.

You wanted to tell him you felt the same, that you were excited, that his attention filled you with butterflies. But it didn’t. Not the way Quinn’s lingering gaze did, not in the way his silence could reach across the fire and wrap around you more tightly than any words Jack could offer.

And Jack could sense it. You could see it in the way his gaze fell just a bit, in the way he seemed to retreat into himself, trying to figure out where he’d lost you. A soft, sinking guilt bubbled up, but before you could say anything, he cleared his throat and looked at you, trying to keep the mood light.

“Should we head back?” he asked, giving you a small smile that tried to mask the disappointment behind his eyes.

You nodded, and as you followed him back toward the fire, your eyes drifted back to Quinn. Why did he have to make it so complicated? Jack was there, warm and steady, giving you his full attention, yet your heart kept tugging you toward Quinn — Quinn, who never gave you more than half-glances and unspoken hints. It was as though he knew the effect he had on you but chose to keep you guessing, leaving you in this restless, uncertain state. And every time he looked away, your chest would ache with a longing that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried.

You felt like you were making it up in your head. You felt like all of this was just concocted by your brain, a made-up situation. But then you’d think back to the nights when it was just the two of you, sitting across from one another on the porch, finding bits of commonality, causing you to talk for hours.

It was during those quiet nights, with only the soft hum of the lake and the occasional call of night birds, that the two of you would sit just a little closer, voices lowered as if sharing secrets with the stars. He’d be calm, reserved, but there’d always be a hint of a smile when you teased him about his stoic nature, a glint in his eyes when he’d challenge you back. It was in these moments that your doubts faded, that all the confusion seemed worth it.

But then the sun would rise again, and Quinn’s indifference would come back like the morning mist, blanketing any closeness you thought you’d found. The spark that seemed so real under the cover of night would dim, replaced by his guarded demeanor and quiet aloofness. It was maddening, this cycle of near-closeness followed by a cool retreat. He’d show you just enough to make you wonder, to keep you holding onto the memory of his quiet smile and that soft look in his eyes.

As you and Jack rejoined the group, you settled back into your chair, glancing across the fire toward Quinn once more. He was looking down, a hand idly fiddling with the edge of his sweater. There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something that made you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he felt the same hesitation and uncertainty. You wanted to bridge that gap, to ask him if he ever felt the same tug, the same strange pull that made every shared glance linger in your mind.

But before you could even entertain the idea, Jack’s hand brushed your shoulder, pulling your attention back to him. He was smiling, his gaze as steady and warm as ever, making you wish you could return it with the same openness.

“Hey, you okay?” Jack asked, concern lacing his voice. You hadn’t realized the way you were chewing on your lip, or the way your brow was furrowed ever so slightly.

You nodded, giving him a soft smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Yeah, just…lost in thought, I guess.”

But as you said it, your gaze slipped across the fire once more, finding Quinn’s eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable intensity. And for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a softness there, a hint of something deeper. It vanished just as quickly, but that one look was enough. It was enough to make you cast away the doubt that lingered in your mind, to dismiss the thought that this was all in your head.

The night dragged on, punctuated by laughter and more ridiculous storytelling from Trevor. Gradually, one by one, everyone began to call it a night. Luke was the first to slip away, yawning as he muttered something about wanting to have an early workout, clapping Trevor on the shoulder before heading inside. Trevor followed soon after, stretching with exaggerated laziness before flashing a grin and winking at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble out here,” he teased, earning a playful eye-roll from you.

Finally, it was just you, Jack, and Quinn. Jack was lingering, his eyes occasionally drifting to you with a look that hinted at something he wanted to say but couldn’t quite bring himself to voice. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat as he looked at you, then glanced over at Quinn.

"Alright, I guess I’ll head in, too," Jack finally said, his tone reluctant. His gaze lingered on you for just a beat too long, as though he wanted you to ask him to stay or tell him that you would head up with him. But you didn’t, and after a quiet sigh, he nodded, gave Quinn a brief glance, then turned and headed inside, the screen door shutting softly behind him.

And then it was just the two of you.

The quiet stretched between you and Quinn, thick and tense, as the night air settled into a stillness that seemed to wrap around you both. The only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the trees, and it was painfully quiet, each unspoken word between you two heavy with meaning. You could feel his presence, magnetic and steady, even across the fire. Finally, after a moment that felt like an eternity, you drew a deep breath and decided to speak.

“Quinn, can we talk?” Your voice was steady, but just barely. Quinn’s eyes finally locked with yours for the first time since before everyone began to filter to bed. Quinn nodded after a couple of seconds, giving you the silence to continue.

��I don’t know what’s going on between us,” you said softly. “But… fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. I need to know if it’s all just in my head or if you feel it too. Because if there’s a reason I feel this way… I need to know.”

You trailed off, heart hammering against your ribcage as the words hung in the air between you. For a moment, he didn’t respond, his expression unreadable, his face softened by the glow of the firelight. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared into the flames. His silence was torture, each passing second pulling you deeper into a pit of anxiety and frustration.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, as if he’d rehearsed this response in his mind countless times. “It’s not in your head,” he admitted, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. “There’s something here, between us. I feel it too.”

The words sent a rush of relief and hope through you, a spark that reignited all those moments spent wondering and waiting for some kind of sign. A soft smile spread across your face, the edges of your doubt finally beginning to soften. But then, his expression shifted, the corners of his mouth tightening as he looked away, eyes fixed on the shadows just beyond the firelight.

“But…” His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges. “It can’t go anywhere. Not with Jack. He’s…he’s into you.” He looked back at you, the regret in his eyes evident, a pain mirrored in your own chest. “I can’t do that to him.”

His words were like a punch to the gut, and the warmth of the fire suddenly felt distant, fading into a cold, empty ache spreading through your chest. You hadn’t expected it to hurt this much, hadn’t realized how much you’d been hoping he’d say the opposite, that he’d fight for whatever was happening between you.

You dropped your gaze, feeling foolish, vulnerable, exposed. “So that’s it? We just… pretend this doesn’t exist?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like nothing’s been happening all this time?”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, his expression pained. “I don’t want to pretend. But I can’t… I won’t hurt him, not like that. He’s my brother.” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. “And he really cares about you.”

You swallowed hard. It felt ridiculous—being here, feeling so foolishly hopeful, only to be left with a hollow ache and a fractured connection that couldn’t ever be more. Part of you wanted to yell at him for leading you on, for those late-night conversations and stolen glances, for every unspoken word that now felt like a cruel joke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I wish it could be different.”

The words left you hollow. Part of you wanted to fight, to tell him that what you felt couldn’t just be ignored, but another part — the part that knew him and understood his loyalty — couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to choose you over his brother. Not when you saw the conflict in his eyes, the pain that mirrored your own.

“Fine,” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. You stood up, the cool night air prickling your skin as you walked away from the fire, leaving him there in silence. You didn’t look back. It felt like your chest was filled with broken glass, each breath painful, as you made your way back to the house.

Inside, the stillness was almost suffocating. The others had already gone to bed, and the darkened living room felt cold and empty, mirroring the ache in your heart. You climbed the stairs to your room, shutting the door softly behind you as you sank onto the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. A mix of anger and sadness filled you. You were mad at Quinn, for drawing you in only to push you away; mad at Jack, for being in the way even if he hadn’t meant to be; mad at Trevor, for ever convincing you to come here; and, perhaps most of all, mad at yourself, for letting your heart hope for something that could never be.

The next morning, a heavy quiet blanketed the lake house. You moved through the motions of breakfast with the others, but your thoughts felt distant, lost somewhere between the memories of last night and the weight of Quinn’s words. The morning was made slightly easier by the absence of Quinn who you were told went into the town early that morning to run errands and hit the gym. The guys bantered and talked about heading out on the boat, planning an afternoon on the lake, but you could only muster half-hearted nods and polite smiles. It was hard to focus, every small sound—the clinking of mugs, the soft scrape of a chair—only intensifying the ache you couldn’t shake.

Excusing yourself, you slipped away before anyone could ask questions, making your way down to the dock. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rippling across the lake's surface, and you sat at the edge, feet dangling above the water. You were still in your sleep outfit, not exactly pyjamas, but rather a comfy oversized hoodie and a pair of mens boxers. The familiar scent of pine and fresh earth surrounded you, but even the peaceful view couldn’t ease the storm of emotions inside.

The quiet was soon broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, and you didn’t need to look to know it was Jack. You felt him sit beside you, his presence warm and grounding. For a moment, he didn’t say anything — just let the silence settle between you both, as though he was waiting for you to be ready.

Finally, he cleared his throat, glancing sideways at you. “You okay this morning? You’ve been… quiet,” he said softly, his voice tentative, as if he were stepping carefully around broken glass. “Distant.”

You swallowed, bracing yourself as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with genuine concern, a softness that only made this harder. “Yeah,” you murmured, looking back out at the lake. “Guess I just needed some space.”

Jack nodded, though he didn’t seem convinced. His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the dock, and after a beat, he spoke again, his tone thoughtful, almost nostalgic.

“You know,” he began, eyes cast down at the water, “when Trevor told me he was bringing a friend this summer, he was so sure we’d hit it off. He kept going on about how you and I would be perfect for each other, that we’d get along great.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I remember feeling this weird, excited energy like… maybe he was right, you know? Maybe I was going to meet someone special.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as he continued, his voice carrying a warmth that was both comforting and deeply bittersweet.

“And when you got here…” He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, as if to gauge your reaction. “I don’t know, it just… felt easy, from the start. Like we’d known each other forever. I started to feel like maybe Trevor had been onto something.” He gave a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of unspoken feelings.

“Things felt really good between us, and I thought you felt it too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “So I started to get my hopes up—thinking maybe this was the start of something real.”

You winced, guilt gnawing at you. “Jack… I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice shaky. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, truly. I think you’re amazing. From the bottom of my heart, I just… I mean there’s gotta be some sort of spell this fucking house puts me under because I would be insane otherwise to not like you! You… you’re so perfect that any other girl would be scremaing at me, trying to claw my eyes out for not appreciating you. But… I just can’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Jack’s eyes softened, a mix of sadness and resignation settling in them. He looked down, his fingers still drumming but more slowly now, as if grounding himself. After a moment, he took a deep breath and let it out, his shoulders sagging slightly.

“I get it,” he murmured, though his voice had an unmistakable crack in it. “I mean… I think I get it. You can’t force something that isn’t there, right?” He gave a sad smile, one that tried to mask the hurt but didn’t quite succeed.

He stared out at the water, his expression distant, like he was trying to piece together what had gone wrong, or maybe just what he’d missed. A tense silence settled between you, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the air around you. Jack cleared his throat, seeming to steel himself, his gaze searching your face as if looking for an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked.

“Can I… can I just ask you one thing?” he said, voice barely above a whisper. His vulnerability in that moment was palpable, and you could feel your heart pounding, bracing yourself for what was coming.

You nodded, feeling your throat tighten.

“Do you… have feelings for Quinn?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and painful, and a part of you wished he hadn’t asked. But the look in his eyes told you he needed to know, that the uncertainty was gnawing at him just as much as the truth might.

Slowly, you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you whispered, “Yes.”

A heavy silence fell between you, and Jack seemed to shrink a little, his shoulders slumping as he took it in. Jack’s gaze fixed on the lake, and for a long moment, he said nothing. You could see the effort it took for him to keep his expression neutral, to keep his emotions tightly bound. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

“So, you… you and Quinn. Is there… anything actually happening between you two?” He glanced at you, a flicker of something raw in his eyes — hope, maybe, or just the need to understand.

You shook your head, offering a small, bittersweet smile. “No, Jack. We’re… we’re not together. We won’t be.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed. “Why not?” he asked softly, his confusion obvious. “If you feel that way about him, why wouldn’t you try?”

You took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. “Because Quinn… Quinn’s too good of a brother. He’d never go for me because of you… and because of what he knows you feel.”

Jack blinked, his brow furrowing as he took in your words. “Wait—what does that mean? Because of me?” he asked, his voice laced with confusion. His gaze softened, and you could see he was fighting to keep his tone steady, like he was trying not to hope.

You sighed, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. “Quinn told me he could never be with me because he knows how you feel. He doesn’t want to hurt you, Jack.”

Jack’s jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face. “So… let me get this straight,” he muttered, almost incredulously. “He’s not doing anything about how he feels—because of me?”

You nodded, and Jack fell silent, staring down at his hands, which had stopped drumming and were now clenched tightly in his lap. He seemed deep in thought, his brows furrowed as he processed what you’d just told him. The lake was quiet around you, the stillness broken only by the occasional ripple of water.

For a long time, Jack didn't say anything, just stared down at the water, his brows drawn together. You could almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the way he was wrestling with everything that had just been laid out. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, raw.

“So he… he cares enough to stay away,” Jack said slowly, the words laced with a sadness that felt almost like admiration. “That's… just like him.” He took a deep breath, forcing a small, sad smile. “I wish things were different. I wish we could just rewind, go back to the start of summer and… and pretend this never happened.”

You swallowed hard, his words striking a chord deep within you. “Me too,” you whispered, eyes burning with unshed tears. “I never wanted any of this to happen, Jack. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”

Jack looked over at you, his expression softening, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the easy, unburdened friendship you’d had in the beginning. “I know,” he murmured. “You’re not the kind of person who’d do this on purpose. It’s just… life, I guess. It’s complicated, ‘n messy as hell. And… maybe Trevor was right. We do get along. Just… maybe not in the way he thought we would.”

He smiled, a genuine one this time, though tinged with a sadness he couldn’t hide. “Maybe someday… I won’t feel this way,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the soft lapping of the lake against the dock. “But for now… I think I just need a little space. Time, maybe.”

You nodded, understanding that this was what he needed, even if it hurt to hear. “I get it, Jack. I do.”

Jack gave a nod, his gaze returning to the water, the weight of unspoken words settling over the two of you. In the next moment, he reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze—a quiet truce, an understanding. Then he stood, brushing off his shorts and glancing back at the house.

“I’ll be up at the house for a bit,” he murmured, the distance in his tone unmistakable. With that, he turned and walked back up the dock, his footsteps slow and heavy.

In the following days, there was a noticeable shift in the air; everyone felt it, though no one dared to name it. Conversations were stilted, laughter felt forced, and even the once-lively dinners had become quiet affairs, each of you treading carefully as if one wrong word might shatter the fragile peace that held you all together. Jack avoided you and Quinn as much as he could, lingering at the edge of group activities, his usual easygoing energy replaced by something more closed off, guarded.

Quinn, for his part, kept his distance too, his usual calm presence clouded by an unspoken tension. It was as if he knew that the delicate line he was walking might snap at any moment, sending everything spiraling out of control.

You couldn't ignore the heaviness that had settled over the house, a tangible sense of tension that made everything feel off-kilter. As much as you'd wanted this summer to be an escape, it had become the very opposite — a painful reminder of all the ways things could go wrong.

That evening, after everyone had gone to bed, you found yourself wide awake, thoughts racing. The decision took shape slowly, a reluctant resolve that you couldn’t shake. You needed to leave. Staying here, caught between the fractured pieces of what had been and what could never be, was too much to bear. The thought of facing both brothers day after day, watching Jack’s guarded smiles and Quinn’s restrained distance—it was too much. They deserved space, and, you realized, so did you.

With a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and booked a flight out for two days later, the earliest you could manage. You barely slept, running through potential conversations in your mind, eventually deciding you were only going to tell Trevor and slip out quietly, not wanting to cause anymore issues.

You forced yourself to push through the pain and awkwardness during the two remaining days until you would be returning back to California. As the days inched closer to your departure, the weight of unspoken words grew heavier, settling into every corner of the lake house. You caught glimpses of Jack, his face turning away when he thought no one was watching as if even looking at you and Quinn felt like reopening an unhealed wound. Quinn’s glances were no less fraught, though his were filled with a wistful restraint, as if he was already mourning the loss of something that had barely even begun.

The dinners, once filled with laughter, now passed in subdued tones, each person more focused on their plate than the conversation. You found yourself counting down the days and hours, conflicted between the need to escape the tension and the ache of leaving it all behind. In those last two days, you kept reminding yourself that soon, you’d be on a plane back to California, back to your own life — away from Jack’s pained looks and Quinn’s longing stares.

Your final day there, you packed your belongs up quickly, hoping Trevor would buy your excuse of not wanting to miss your flight as a good reason for him to take you to the airport early, and not because you couldn’t bear to spend one more hour in this suffocating oasis. Everyone else was lounging by the water, with the exception of Jack who lingered in the kitchen, opting to do the dishes rather than be around the others. He was lost in thought when he heard the patio door slide open and shut, the sound of bare feet padding against the hardwood. He turned to the entrance of the kitchen, seeing Quinn wearing his boardshorts and a slightly guarded look.

Quinn stopped at the threshold, eyes flicking briefly to Jack’s hands as he scrubbed the dishes. They were tense, knuckles white around the plate he held, and the silence between them was palpable and heavy. Jack set down the dish with a clatter, bracing himself on the edge of the sink, not looking at Quinn. Jack didn’t give Quinn time to speak. The words erupted from him, fueled by everything he’d been holding back.

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” Jack’s voice was low and seething, barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t dare let Quinn get a word in. “You’re hurting her, Quinn. A perfectly nice girl, who came here not looking for this mess but got dragged into it anyway. And the worst part is, you know it. You know it, and you’re still just… sitting back like a damn martyr, thinking that by staying distant, you’re somehow making it easier for everyone. That by holding back, you’re sparing her, sparing me.”

Jack’s words cut through the quiet, sharper than the silence that had settled in the house over the past days. The vulnerability in his tone was raw, scraping against Quinn’s stoic expression. Quinn shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interrupt; he only looked at Jack, his gaze unwavering.

“And you know what? I kind of hate you for it,” Jack continued, voice unsteady. He turned his head just enough for Quinn to catch the anger, the hurt in his eyes. “I hate that you waltzed in and just took her from me without even trying. And, yeah, maybe that’s selfish. Maybe I never really had a chance, but she was still there, and I was trying. I was there, damn it!”

Quinn finally took a step forward, but Jack cut him off again, his hands clenching at the counter. “And I hate you for pretending like you’re doing the right thing by telling her nothing will happen. You act like you’re some noble saint by ‘staying away,’ but it’s a lie, Quinn. It’s a lie, and we both know it. You’re holding back because you’re scared — scared to go after what you really want, and in the end, you’re just making it worse for everyone. For her. For me.”

Jack’s voice wavered, then cracked, as he finally fell silent, chest heaving from the force of his confession. The words had cost him, as if each syllable had drawn blood. The only sound in the room was the dripping of the faucet, each drop amplifying the tension between them.

Quinn stayed quiet for a long moment, his gaze steady as he absorbed every word. He studied Jack, weighing something unspoken. “Would you hate me if I went for her, then?” His tone was gentle, almost hesitant, a softness that Jack hadn’t been prepared for.

Jack’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I probably would.” He ran a hand through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I mean I hate you right now for making her feel the way she does. But it shouldn’t matter, Quinn. Not if you two… if you actually care about each other.” Jack’s voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own honesty. “Look, I’ll get over it. In time. But don’t waste what could be something good just because you’re trying to spare everyone. It’s pointless, and it’s selfish. You need to get to her before it’s too late.”

Quinn could feel Jack’s anger and pain, an emotion so raw and tangled it clawed at the air between them. For a second, Quinn thought of how different things could have been if he had stayed on the sidelines, if he hadn’t let himself get close to you. But as Jack’s gaze softened, an odd understanding settled between them. Jack wasn’t letting go easily, but he was letting go.

Jack’s shoulders slumped, exhausted, as he ran a hand over his face. “She’s leaving today, you know?” he said to Quinn, a look of surprise appearing on his face. “Trev told me last night she booked her flight out for this afternoon.”

Quinn’s face fell, and the guarded look faded, replaced with something dangerously close to panic. He hadn’t known—hadn’t expected that this was it. That today was the end.

“She’s leaving?” Quinn asked, Jack nodding. “Why didn’t she say anything? W-why is she leaving?”

“Because why would she stay?” Jack said. “She’s going to protect herself. She’s not gonna stay here, hoping for something that won’t happen. She’s too smart for that.”

The realization struck Quinn like a punch to the gut, leaving him breathless. Jack's words echoed in his mind, each one sharper than the last. She’s leaving. Of course, she would. She wasn’t the type to hang around hoping for some half-hearted promise or for Quinn to finally decide what he wanted. She deserved so much more than waiting for him to get his act together.

Jack's voice softened, pulling him back to the present. "Quinn, it’s not too late. She hasn’t left yet. If you really care about her, don’t let her go like this."

Quinn’s gaze faltered, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his expression. Could he really undo the damage he’d done by staying away? Could he find the words to convince her that, despite his silence, he’d felt everything just as deeply as she had?

A heavy silence followed before Quinn found his voice. “What… what should I say to her?”

Jack shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You really think I’m giving you advice on how to get the girl I wanted?”

Quinn’s face softened in a rare, grateful smile. “Fair enough.” He hesitated, then turned, steeling himself as he left the kitchen, leaving Jack to his own fractured thoughts.

Quinn climbed the stairs two at a time, his pulse racing with every step, anticipation and fear warring within him. As he reached the top, he saw Trevor just exiting your room. Trevor paused, giving Quinn a look that held no small amount of concern.

“I don’t know what went down between you three,” Trevor said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I care about her, and I don’t like seeing her like this. You going to fix whatever mess this is?”

Quinn’s chest tightened. He knew Trevor had been close to you, learning this summer just how much of a big brother figure he was to you. He couldn’t fault him for looking out for you.

“I’m going to fix it,” Quinn said, his voice quiet but firm. He met Trevor’s gaze, hoping to communicate the sincerity in his words. “I have to.”

Trevor didn’t say anything else, but he gave Quinn a long, steady look, as though weighing whether to believe him. Then he gave a nod and shifted your duffle bag, stepping aside to let Quinn pass. With a final glance at Trevor, Quinn walked to your door, his heart racing. Quinn stood outside your door for a moment, his hand hovering above the doorknob. He knew what he needed to say, but a part of him feared that the damage was already done. Bracing himself, he knocked gently before pushing the door open.

You were standing by the window, your zipped duffle bag sitting on your bed. Your back was to the door when Quinn entered, and for a moment, he almost turned around, the words caught in his throat. But then you turned, your eyes meeting his.

“Are you really going?” Quinn asked, his voice quiet and strained.

You nodded, stepping away from the window and closer to Quinn. “I think it’s best. This whole summer has just… it’s too much, Quinn. I didn’t come here expecting any of this, and now I just feel… caught. And I can’t keep feeling this way.”

Quinn swallowed, his gaze never leaving yours. He looked as though he was battling something heavy, words lingering on his lips, waiting to escape. He stepped forward, close enough that you could see the faint circles under his eyes, the fatigue that seemed to pull at his features.

“I didn’t expect any of this either,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “And I get it — you’re right. I hurt you. I know that. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, it would somehow make it easier for everyone. That maybe you'd move on from this — move on from me, and be with Jack. I thought it would hurt less.”

You held his gaze, your voice low but unwavering. “Do you have any idea what that did to me, Quinn? All summer, feeling this… this connection between us, and thinking that I had to be imagining it because you couldn’t even look at me. And you’re saying you did that on purpose? To protect me?” Your voice trembled. “That’s not protecting me. That’s running away.”

Quinn took a shaky breath, stepping closer, his expression taut with regret. “I know I messed up. I was spineless and I should have told you the truth sooner.” Quinn said, bowing his head briefly before forcing himself to look up at your hurt eyes. “I told myself that it was better this way, but all I was doing was lying to myself. Because every time I saw you… every time I heard your laugh, or watched you talk to Jack, or caught you looking at me — I couldn’t breathe.”

Quinn took one last step forward, less than a foot away from you. He raised his hand to reach you, fingertips grazing your arm gently, as if he feared you might pull away. “But I care about you, more than I thought possible. And I was afraid of that. Afraid of hurting Jack, afraid of hurting you… and afraid of wanting you this much.” He swallowed, his voice growing rough. “But I can’t let you leave without knowing how I feel. I want to be with you I — I need to be with you.”

Your breath hitched, the confession settling over you like a warm, crushing weight. This was what you’d wanted, but it also brought a whirlwind of conflicting emotions crashing down. You took a small step back, just enough to put some distance between you, needing space to gather your thoughts.

Quinn was saying everything you wanted to hear from the beginning. Laying his feelings bare, and exposing his heart in a way you hadn't expected from someone as reserved as him. It was like seeing a hidden part of him, one he’d kept carefully guarded. The vulnerability in his eyes made it clear that this was as terrifying for him as it was thrilling for you.

But in the back of your mind, Jack lingered, his hurt and disappointment woven into every stolen glance and quiet moment of the summer. The image of his face as he realized how you felt about Quinn was something you couldn’t shake. The memory clawed at you, guilt mixing with the longing Quinn’s words evoked.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,” you said, voice catching. “But Quinn… Jack — he tried so hard with me this summer, and I couldn’t give him what he wanted because of… well, because of you.” You hesitated, torn between the longing in Quinn’s eyes and the memory of Jack’s earnest, hopeful glances. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt him. And I feel like I’ve done enough damage by just… being here.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, his hand lingering just above your arm, hovering close as if he wasn’t ready to let you go. “I know,” he murmured. “I know it’s complicated. But I talked to Jack this morning. He told me… he told me to come up here and talk to you. To tell you how I felt. He wants you to be happy, and he knows that’s not with him. He’ll get over it.”

“Jack said that?” you whispered, barely able to believe it.

Quinn nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though there was sadness in his eyes. “He might hate me for a while, and I can live with that. But he said I’d regret it if I let you go. And… he was right.”

His hand, warm and steady, traced down your arm, his fingers slipping around yours with a gentle firmness. The touch, gentle but insistent, sent a jolt through you. “I know I’ve messed up,” he murmured, voice barely a whisper. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll make it right. I want this, us… if you do too.”

You nodded, words escaping you as Quinn stepped even closer, his free hand lifting to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, and you could feel the slight tremor in his touch. He leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

His lips barely brushed yours, soft and tentative. Your breath mingled together briefly before your lips locked together. He lingered for a heartbeat, savoring the closeness as if he, too, couldn’t believe this was real. Then, with a surge of emotion, the kiss deepened, all the restraint and hesitation of the summer dissolving as his hand rose to cradle your cheek, holding you to him as though afraid you might disappear.

His stubble that had grown out over the last couple weeks of summer scraped along your jaw and chin, leaving a faint burn that only added to the rush of sensation.

When you pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day you got here,” he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice.

You giggled, staying close and feeling his heartbeat echoing against yours. The silence that followed was thick, but it was different now — no longer tense or uncertain like it had been for most of the summer. It felt as though the weight had been lifted from both of your shoulders.

But even in that moment, you knew the reality of what this would mean—for Jack, for Quinn, and for yourself. There was a part of you that still ached, remembering Jack’s quiet disappointment and knowing it would take time to heal the wounds this summer had left behind.

You swallowed hard, raising a hand to Quinns face and brushing aside his dark locks that fell over his eyes. “I still think I need to go,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not because I don’t want this. I do. But I think both of you need time, and maybe I do too. To let everything settle.”

Quinn nodded, understanding settling over his expression. “I get it,” he replied, taking your hand in his and giving your palm a soft kiss. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

Quinn let you slip from his arms, his heart squeezing as he watched you grab your bag and exit the room. As you descended the stairs with your duffle bag slung over your shoulder, you saw Jack waiting near the door. His expression softened as you approached, a bittersweet smile crossing his face.

“So, this is it?” he asked, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of acceptance.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think it’s best. Thank you, Jack. For understanding. And… for everything.”

Jack gave a short nod, his gaze momentarily flickering towards the stairs where Quinn had stopped to watch from a distance. He returned his gaze to you and managed a small, sincere smile. “Go live your life. I wish you and Quinn all the best.”

You hugged him, both of you holding on just a second longer than necessary. When you pulled back, you could see the mix of emotions in his eyes, but there was a sense of peace there too. He’d let go, not because it didn’t hurt, but because he genuinely wanted you to be happy. You felt your heart swell, gratitude mixing with the faint sting of regret for the friendship that would never quite be the same. But Jack’s words lifted the weight off your shoulders, letting you and Quinn move forward.

With a final look, you stepped outside, Trevor waiting to drive you to the airport, his brow furrowed in confusion at the way you suddenly had pep in your step, a small smile present on your lips that had been missing for weeks. As the car pulled away, you stole one last glance at the lake house, catching a glimpse of Quinn watching you from the porch. He raised a hand in a small wave, and you returned it, a soft smile on your lips.

This summer hadn’t turned out anything like you’d expected.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part Eight

Pairing: Bucky x reader AU

Word count: 3.7k

Warning: Angst....

A/N: first of many fights <3 also your comments make my day 

-----

You walk into the apartment, the excitement from your date still buzzing faintly inside you—until you spot Bucky sitting on the couch. His eyes immediately flick to yours, his expression unreadable, and just like that, any leftover thrill from the night vanishes, replaced by an ache that settles heavily in your chest.

It’s the first time you’ve been alone with him all week, and for a second, neither of you says anything. Then he stands, clearing his throat. “So… how’d it go?”

His words reignite the frustration you’ve been holding back since last week, since his careless comment at the bar. Instead of brushing past him like you’d planned, you stop, crossing your arms and staring at him, letting your words come out sharper than you intended.

“Good. It was a great date, actually,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Dean was a total gentleman, and wouldn’t you know it—I handled a real date just fine.”

A flicker of regret crosses his face, but he quickly looks away, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “That’s… that’s not how I meant it. I don’t know why I said that, and you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

You laugh bitterly, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room, as you shrugged off your coat, placing your keys and phone in the dish. “Really, Bucky? Because lately, that seems like the only thing you’ve been doing—hurting me.”

His gaze snaps back to you, his expression hardening. “You really want to do this? Just… hash everything out right now?”

You throw your arms up, the frustration boiling over. “Why the hell not? It’s not like things have been getting any better with us pretending everything’s fine!”

He steps closer, his jaw tight. “Fine. Let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about that night, then.” He pauses, his voice dropping as his eyes bore into yours. “Why did you leave?”

You freeze, caught off guard. “What… what do you mean?”

He takes another step toward you, anger and hurt evident in his face. “You know exactly what I mean. After that night at the party, after we… after we slept together. Why did you leave without a word? I woke up, and you were just gone.”

Your pulse quickens, emotions swirling in a chaotic mess inside you. “Are you kidding me, Bucky? Did you even want me to stay?”

He lets out a hollow laugh, the sound filled with disbelief. “What are you talking about? Of course I did! You’re the one who walked out, not me!”

The anger rises, mixing with all the hurt and confusion you’ve buried over the years. “I left because… because I panicked, alright? You had this reputation, Bucky, and everyone knew it. I thought… I thought you’d wake up, regret it, and hate me for being just another one of your mistakes.”

His eyes widen, a mixture of anger and disbelief flashing across his face. “Do you really think that little of me? You think I’d just… forget about you? You’re my best friend, for god’s sake. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and you thought I’d throw that away for just sex?”

“Oh, so it was just sex, huh?” you snap, bitterness dripping from every word.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it!” he shouts, frustration evident as he rakes a hand through his hair, his voice breaking slightly. “God, you have to know it was more than that!”

You cross your arms tighter around yourself, trying to hold everything in. “I don’t know what I thought, Bucky. But I knew I couldn’t stand being something you regretted. I wasn’t going to sit there and wait for you to decide whether it was worth anything to you.”

He stares at you, hurt and frustration radiating from him. “All I’ve ever done is care about you. Everything people said about me, all those rumors—they were just that. Rumors. I thought you of all people would know that.”

You look away, fighting the sting of tears in your eyes, but he steps closer, his voice rising. “Do you know how much it killed me? You left me there like it meant nothing.”

“Maybe it didn’t mean as much as you think it did!” you shout back, anger overtaking the sadness. “Maybe that night wasn’t some big, life-changing moment for either of us. Maybe it was just a mistake!”

His face crumples slightly, like you’ve slapped him, and his voice drops, filled with hurt. “Is that really what you think?”

You hesitate, the words burning in your throat, but you nod, unable to back down. “I… I don’t know, Bucky. All I know is that I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep waiting around, trying to read between the lines, hoping you’ll finally decide what you want.”

He steps back, his face hardening, his voice cold. “Then maybe you should go. If you’re so tired of being here, if I’m such a disappointment to you… maybe it’s better for both of us if you’re not here.”

Your heart clenches painfully, but you force yourself to nod, swallowing back the tears. “Fine. If that’s what you want, then I’ll go.”

“Go, then!” he yells, his eyes flashing, and you can see the unshed tears there, barely contained. “Get out. Do whatever you want—I don’t care anymore. Just… leave.”

For a moment, you just stare at him, the weight of his words crashing over you like a wave. Then, without another word, you turn on your heel, your hands shaking. You feel the tears spilling over as you open the door, but you don’t let yourself look back, slamming it behind you, the sound echoing painfully through the empty apartment.

The chill of the night air bites into your skin as you walk through the dark streets, the city lights casting a glow around you, making the world feel almost surreal. You’re shivering, partly from the cold and partly from the adrenaline that’s kept you moving since you stormed out of the apartment, leaving behind your coat, your phone—everything. You feel like you’re walking through a dream, or maybe a nightmare, your heels clicking against the pavement in the silence.

It’s only after you’ve been walking for a while, the shock wearing off, that you realize the closest place you can go is Steve and Sam’s. You pick up your pace, arms wrapped around yourself, mascara streaking down your cheeks as the wind stings your face. It’s late, nearly ten o’clock on a Saturday night, and as you walk you can’t help but worry. What if they’re not home? What if you just end up standing outside in the cold, with nowhere to go?

You finally reach their apartment building and practically rush up to their door, knocking, then pressing your ear to the door, hoping you hear movement inside. The minutes feel like hours, and you’re starting to feel that familiar rise of panic, the one that tightens your chest and makes it hard to breathe. Just as you’re about to give up, you hear footsteps on the other side.

The door unlocks, and then it opens, revealing Steve.His face shifts from confusion to shock as he takes you in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, voice thick with concern as he quickly pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. “Are you okay?”

The second you’re inside, the warmth of the apartment breaks down whatever wall you were holding up. You start crying, and without a word, Steve wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you sob against his chest.

After a moment, he gently guides you to sit on the couch, his hand rubbing your back in slow, soothing circles. But as you pull away, wiping at your smudged makeup, you see the worry in his eyes shift to something sharper, angrier.

“Wait,” he says, frowning as he looks you over again. “Where’s your coat? And your phone? You didn’t just walk all the way here without anything, did you?”

You sniffle, still catching your breath, and nod, the hurt fresh all over again. “I left everything at the apartment,” you manage, voice shaky. “I just… I couldn’t stay there, Steve. Bucky told me to get out. He told me to leave.”

Steve’s face falls in shock, his mouth opening slightly as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “He… he told you to get out?” he repeats, trying to process it. “And then just let you walk out? At this hour? Without your things?”

You nod, tears spilling down your cheeks as you cover your face. “I don’t think he… he was just so mad, Steve. I was too. He didn’t care. He just… told me to go.”

Steve lets out a sharp exhale, struggling to contain his anger. “That’s no excuse. I don’t care how mad he was, he should’ve never let you leave like that. He should’ve checked on you, at the very least. Damn it…” He reaches out, squeezing your shoulder with a mix of anger and worry. “You should have called me. I’d have come to get you in a second.”

You offer a small, broken smile through your tears, still trembling. “I know… I just… wasn’t thinking clearly.”

He shakes his head, his hand still on your shoulder, his gaze intense and filled with concern. “Don’t apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice softens, his anger giving way to a fierce protectiveness. “I just can’t believe he let you walk out alone. It kills me that you felt like you had to do this.”

He squeezes your shoulder, his voice soft. “Do you want to talk about it, or just… sit for a while?”

You let out a shaky laugh, still catching your breath. “I don’t even know what to say. Everything just… came out. All these things we’ve been avoiding saying, and… I don’t know. I didn’t think it’d hurt this much.”

Steve nods, a sad, sympathetic look crossing his face. “Sometimes… those things we avoid saying are the things that hurt the most. Especially when it’s someone we care about.”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and he reaches up, brushing it away gently. His eyes are soft, filled with an empathy that makes you feel a little less alone. “Thank you, Steve,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

You lean into him, letting yourself sink into his warmth, and he pulls you close, wrapping an arm around you again. The adrenaline finally ebbs, exhaustion taking its place as you relax in his embrace, feeling safe for the first time since you left.

You close your eyes, and before long, you start to feel them grow heavy, your breaths slowing as you begin to drift off on Steve’s shoulder.

A few minutes later, Steve’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He carefully shifts, trying not to disturb you, and pulls it out to see a message from Natasha: Hey, have you heard from her? She hasn’t updated me on the date, isn’t answering her phone, and I’m getting worried.

He sighs, glancing at you before typing back, She’s here. She walked from the apartment without her phone or her coat. She and Bucky got into it, pretty bad, ive never seen her like this.

Natasha’s response is almost instant: Are you kidding me? followed by a string of angry emojis.

Steve takes a deep breath, looking down at you as he types out another message, this time to Bucky, his fingers pressing the keys harder than usual: She’s here. Alone. No thanks to you! Without her things. And you let her walk out like that? What the hell were you thinking?

He sends the message and then texts Sam, who’s still out with coworkers, letting him know to be quiet when he comes home because you’re sleeping on the couch. A moment later, Sam replies with a string of question marks.

Steve glances down at you, tucked against him, your breathing even and steady now, and sighs before typing a final message to Sam: I’ll explain everything later.

Steve sits on the couch, holding you gently as you fall asleep against him, your breathing soft and steady now, a world away from the state you were in when you first showed up at the door. He glances down at you, feeling a pang in his chest as he takes in the remnants of your makeup, smudged from the tears you cried on his shoulder, and he’s struck by just how much he hates seeing you like this—hurting, broken down, all because of Bucky.

Yet, selfishly, there’s a part of him—deep down, hidden from everyone, including himself most days—that’s grateful you came to him tonight. He knows it’s wrong, knows it’s just his heart betraying him again, but he can’t help it. He’s loved you since junior high, since you were both just kids fumbling through life, figuring out what friendship meant. And over the years, that love has only deepened, becoming something he never talks about, never even lets slip. He’s had to sit on the sidelines and watch as you poured your heart into Bucky, hoping one day he’d finally open his eyes and see you the way Steve does.

You deserve everything in the world, Steve thinks. Someone who’ll give you the love you’ve always deserved, who wouldn’t leave you standing alone in the middle of a dark city street, heartbroken and afraid. But instead, you’re stuck in love with someone who’s too scared to do anything about it, and Steve… he’s just the friend you come to when it all falls apart.

A tear slips down his cheek, and he wipes it away quickly, forcing a silent, bitter laugh at himself. You’re his Bucky, he realizes painfully, and he’s you—watching, waiting, knowing you’ll never see him the way he sees you. It’s a cruel irony, and he hates himself for even thinking it.

Just then, the door creaks open, and Sam steps inside, blinking in surprise as he takes in the sight of you curled up against Steve, your tear-streaked face softened in sleep. He gives Steve a puzzled look, eyebrows raised, and Steve just raises a finger to his lips, shushing him. Carefully, he shifts out from under you, gently laying your head on the couch cushion and covering you with the throw blanket. He watches you for a moment before standing up and walking over to Sam, who’s now leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed.

“What happened?” Sam asks, his voice low as he eyes Steve with concern.

Steve rubs the back of his neck, sighing. “She showed up about an hour ago, just… wrecked. Crying, shivering at the door. She didn’t have her phone, her keys, or even a coat.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “What? Why didn’t she have her stuff?”

Steve’s jaw tightens as he answers, anger simmering in his voice. “Because Bucky told her to leave. They had a huge fight, and he just let her walk out like that. She came here on foot, alone, and he didn’t stop her. Didn’t even check if she had what she needed.”

Sam lets out a long breath, running his hands down his face in frustration. “Are you kidding me? That guy is such an idiot sometimes.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Steve mutters, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. “I thought he was supposed to tell her how he felt. I thought he was ending things with Kate.”

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “I know. I thought that was the plan too. Just last week, he said he was done with the excuses, that he was going to finally tell her. I don’t know what the hell’s holding him back, but tonight… she had her first date in years, Steve. She was supposed to have a good night, for once, and instead, she’s here, like this.”

Steve’s gaze shifts back to you, his heart aching as he watches you sleep. “I don’t get it. If he cares about her like he says he does, why does he keep doing this to her? Why won’t he just be honest?”

Sam sighs, shaking his head as he leans against the counter. “I don’t know, man. But she was so happy earlier. Right before her date, and she just… she was glowing. I hadn’t seen her like that in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. “And now… now she’s back to this, all because of him.”

Sam lets out a deep breath, crossing his arms. “Maybe this is a turning point, though. Maybe some good can come from this mess.”

Steve frowns, glancing back at him. “How could this possibly be a good thing?”

Sam gestures toward you, curled up on the couch. “Maybe some space between them will be good for both of them. She can finally see that she deserves better than this back-and-forth, and he can realize what he’s throwing away. Maybe it’s what they both need.”

Steve sighs, looking down, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah… maybe.” But as he stares at you, asleep on the couch, he can’t shake the quiet ache in his chest, wondering if you’ll ever see that someone’s been there for you all along.

---

The next morning, Steve steps out of his room to find Sam already up, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in hand. Sam glances toward the couch, noticing you still curled up, fast asleep, wrapped in a throw blanket.

“She’s still out,” Sam says quietly, nodding in your direction.

Steve looks over at you and nods. “Yeah, she must've been exhausted,” he says softly.

Sam takes a sip of his coffee, watching Steve for a moment before asking, “You gonna skip your run today?”

Steve glances back at him, then shakes his head. “I can miss a day,” he replies with a shrug, moving into the kitchen and grabbing things from the fridge to start breakfast.

Sam watches him, setting his mug down on the counter. “Look, man… this can’t be good for you either.”

Steve pauses, glancing at Sam. “What do you mean?”

Sam gives him a pointed look. “Come on, you know what I mean. You, being in love with her all these years.” He lowers his voice slightly, glancing over at you again. “Just… I don’t want to see any more of my best friends getting hurt, alright?”

Steve sighs, his shoulders tensing slightly. “Keep it down, Sam. She’s literally right there.”

Sam sighs too, his tone gentler now. “I’m just saying, Steve, you can still be a good guy and a good friend… while protecting your own heart. I don’t want you to keep waiting around and getting hurt.”

Steve nods slowly, resuming his work in the kitchen. “I know what I’m doing, Sam. Trust me. It’s been years of this. I’ll be fine.”

Sam gives him a skeptical look but just shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever you say, man.” He reaches for a mixing bowl, getting ready to make pancakes. A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, the smell of pancakes and coffee filling the kitchen.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees you beginning to stir on the couch. You stretch, blinking as you slowly sit up, momentarily disoriented, and your eyes go wide as you remember where you are.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Sam says with a grin, turning around to look at you.

“Oh God…” you murmur, running a hand over your face, slightly embarrassed. Everything from last night rushes back in a blur.

“You okay?” Steve asks, concern in his voice as he sets down the spatula.

“Yeah, just a bit of a headache,” you mumble, wincing slightly.

Without a word, Steve gets up and heads to the bathroom, returning with some Tylenol and a glass of water. You give him a grateful smile as you take them.

Sam grins, shooting you a playful look. “Well, you look like shit.”

“Sam!” Steve yells, half-scolding him, but you just laugh, shaking your head.

“Thanks,” you chuckle, swallowing the Tylenol. “I feel like it, too.”

Steve sits beside you for a moment, watching as you sip the water. Sam looks at you thoughtfully, then says, “You should go take a shower. I bet it’ll help clear your head.”

You nod, biting your lip. “I would… but I don’t exactly have anything to wear.”

Steve immediately jumps up, nodding toward his room. “I’m sure I can find some clothes that’ll work for you. Hold on.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him with a hint of embarrassment.

“Of course,” he says, smiling warmly. “Anything for you.”

He heads down the hall, and you follow, feeling a little lighter with each step. Once in his room, he digs through his dresser and hands you a pair of sweatpants, a soft T-shirt, and a towel. “Use whatever you need in the bathroom,” he says gently, his gaze warm and steady.

As he’s about to turn and leave the room, you stop him. “Stevie?”

He pauses, turning back. “Yeah?”

You give him a small, heartfelt smile. “Thank you. For everything. For always being such a great friend to me.”

Steve’s heart sinks slightly at the word “friend,” the weight of all the things he’s never said pressing down on him. But he musters a smile, nodding. “I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

You give him one last grateful look before heading to the bathroom. Once inside, you close the door and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath as your emotions resurface.

You turn on the shower, feeling the steam rise as you slip out of yesterday’s clothes. The hot water pours over you, soothing your tense muscles as you stand there, letting everything you’ve been holding in pour out.

Your thoughts drift to Bucky, to the fight, to everything that was said, and the words echo painfully in your mind. You wonder if he felt any regret after you left, if he realized how much his words hurt. But then you think about how he’d looked at you, the anger and frustration in his eyes, and your heart twists painfully. It’s a cycle, you realize—a cycle of loving someone who can’t seem to decide if he wants to hold onto you or push you away.

As the water washes over you, you close your eyes, trying to let go of the ache in your chest, but it lingers, a constant reminder of the choice you don’t know how to make.

[alwaysthefool]

But She’s Not You (x Zayne)

Technically part 2 to Opposite (linked) but you can read it stand alone too.

Warnings: insecurity

Tags: Angst to comfort, f! Reader (pro trans blog), MC Reader

Synopsis: After you saw him with someone else and misunderstood, Zayne lets you know you’re the only one for him.

Sulking at the waiting room couldn’t get past Yvonne’s sharp eyes. It had been a week since you’d come to the hospital. You didn’t pick up Zayne’s calls after you ‘ended things’, and him, being the gentleman that he was, did not push it. He was probably busy again, and now he had someone else to keep him company. Unfortunately for you, you had a weird and constant chest pain that was getting hard to ignore. You begged the receptionist to get you any other cardiologist than Zayne, which meant you had to wait, because Zayne would never make you wait when it came to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” She took a seat beside you at the metal chairs. “Trouble with the doc?”

You sighed, your head down, grateful she was here. “I saw him with another girl. Laughing, with another girl.”

“Dr. Zayne laughs?” Grayson slumped down on the other side of you. That just made you feel worse. Right, he was usually stoic, but who wouldn’t laugh when someone like her was making a joke?

Yvonne pinched Grayson, as if begging him to read the room.

“Well, he’s doing terribly.” Grayson spoke immediately. “I don’t think he took a break this entire week. Jo almost has to force him to take a break at times.”

Tears filled your eyes immediately and you hated that it wasn’t because you were concerned about him, but rather that he had another girl who’d remind him to take breaks, to eat sweets, to smile every now and then. It was selfish to think like that, but you couldn’t help but wish it was you.

“Dr. Grayson.” Yvonne warned, gesturing to you. “Don’t you have a surgery to get to?”

Grayson took the cue noticing your silent crying, pretending he was paged for something important, running away.

“There’s really nothing going on between them.” Yvonne tried to help you, patting your back. “There’s been new discoveries on Protocore syndrome treatments, and Jo is from the institute that made the discovery.”

You tried to stop the tears. Right, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s just… hard to be with someone like him.” You wiped your face with your sleeve. “Someone who’s always going to be wanted by people who are more than me. I’ll make one mistake, and he can find another girl who’s better than me in every way, and will never make any. I don’t want to spend my life thinking I have to compete.”

“Ms. [Name].” Zayne’s voice spoke from above you, sending your already struggling heart into a frenzy. “Please see me in my room immediately.”

You looked up to see him walk away, into his office, the nurse beside him, apologising to you. “I tried to hide it from him, but he was furious when I didn’t tell him you were here.” She whispered. You told her it was okay, silently following him. He held the door to his office open for you, closing it behind him once the two of you were in.

“You might be mad at me, but did you really have to try and change doctors?”

“I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“Nonsense.” He looked back at you with furious eyes. His hair was a mess, he’d definitely not had enough sleep, and you could see a bit of stubble on his jaw. No matter what happened, Zayne would put effort into his appearance, but you’d never seen him like that before.

You wanted to say something, ask him if he was alright, but you could only take your place on the couch in his office.

“How long have you been experiencing this?” He asked sternly, still standing, looking at your chart.

“A week.”

He shot you an exasperated look. “A week? And you’re only coming here now?”

I didn’t want to face you. You wanted to confess, but you settled with “I thought it’d go away by itself.”

Zayne tried to calm himself down, placing the chart on the table, sitting down on his desk with his head in his hands. You didn’t have control over yourself as your legs walked over to him. Even if he liked someone else, you couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t help but reach for him, your hand lightly resting on his back.

“Zayne?”

“Can I hold you?” His voice was broken, pleading. You let out a soft ‘yes’, and he immediately pulled you into his lip, hugging you tightly.

Was Zayne… crying?

“You’re here.” He whispered, resting his face against your neck, nuzzling into it, tightening his protective hold. Even if you couldn’t hear it well, you felt his wet eyes. He still smelled of coffee and mint. “Please don’t leave me again. I thought I messed up for good. Please give me another chance.”

“I overreacted.” You put your hands in his hair, and he kissed your neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He pulled away, holding you firmly on his lap with his large hands on your waist. “I didn’t understand how it must’ve looked to you. I’m away all the time, I don’t make time for you, but if it’s not you…” He looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s no one.”

Your heart felt less heavy, the pain easing into relief. You took a deep breath, but it still hurt your chest a little.

“And I’m sorry for what I said.“ He continued.

You teared up again. “Yeah, you should be. You have no idea how I felt.”

“I’ll win you back, if you’re not yet convinced.” He kissed you on your cheek, taking a handkerchief out of his bag to wipe away your tears. “Tell me, what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“What I came for. A diagnosis for my heart.” You smiled.

Zayne turned red, clearing his throat, helping you off his lap but not letting go of your hand. “Of course. I need you to come with me to get some tests done.” He used his free hand to look at his notes on the chart.

“And after that, you’re coming home with me so I can make it all up to you.”

—x—

[musouie]

art by ohto.begone ノ divider by @/adornedwithlight

⟢ précis: vi seeks your comfort after reuniting with powder ꒱ inspired by s1 ep6

⟢ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, gn!reader, references to s1 ep 3 + e6, wc: 0.9k

Vi comes to you early in the morning. She slinks in with the rising sun, tiptoeing across your floors, narrowly missing the floorboards that often creak with an ease that can only be learned — and then, she sits. 

Quietly, on the edge of your bed, stifling her pained groans from throbbing wounds through clenched teeth and blueblack lips — taking the brunt of it as she’s always done…alone. She tries to fight it — the intrusion, the remembrance — but she’s never been good at forgetting, at smothering all the misshapen fragments of her memories until they were soot in her skull —

(Fire, heady and ashen on her tongue; the explosion, the beast Vander had become — and then all that came after. The poison of her words, the gravel of her voice, the tremble of Powder’s bottom lip as she harshly gripped her jaw)

— they haunted, they haunted, they haunted.

Her own lip begins to tremble, and quickly, she begins to undo her bandages, minding the shallow dip of your mattress as she shifts to a better position. (Perhaps the pain would distract her, one sting to outdo another of a different kind?) She unwinds it once, twice — and immediately her nose scrunches at the foul odour it emits: of blood and grime and sweat and —

“Vi?”

Her head snaps up; you’re staring at her blearily — vision blurry and cottoned around the edges as you fight your heavy eyelids. You blink twice and she nods, slowly turning her muscled back to you as you pull yourself into a seated position, legs still tucked beneath your blanket. “What are you doing here?” Her shoulders tense; you try again. “...When did you get in?”

“Not too long ago,” she mutters, gathering the last of her bandage in her scraped palm. “Snuck in through the window.”

You rub at your eyes. “You know I hate when you do that. There’s a key beneath the welcome-mat, you can just come through the front like normal.” 

She says nothing to that, but her shoulders do that curl, the one that tells you she’s annoyed, that another wall has been drawn up before you. You think it’s because you used the word ‘normal’ – your error. I’m far from normal, she’d whisper on starless nights, the things that happen to me don’t happen to normal people. 

She’d groan when you’d whisper back, And what is it that happens to you?

(What followed was predictable — routine. The crow’s feet by her eyes eased, and her lips hardened into a line — one that you knew not to cross, not to touch…not to kiss in lieu of all the ‘I’m sorry’’s and ‘Please forgive me’’s that neither of you would appreciate the outcome of — and for the rest of the night, you’d have a boulder for company, one you knew near nothing about.)

So you wait for her shoulders to straighten themselves, for the sun to peek through your window, one shy ray behind the other — and for the breath she’d been holding to release itself in one large huff.

“I–” she turns, and it’s then you glimpse the extent of her state, of her lips — indigo and swollen; berries crushed beneath a careless fist, one bruise atop another that has yet to heal. “Can I just lay beside you?”

“Your lips—”

“—They’ll heal.”

“But—”

“I said they’ll heal,” she bites.

And there it is again — the wall.

The wall.

(How many times had you tried to climb over it, to scale the bricks and mortar and find a way inside? How many times had you slipped and fallen, the jagged edges of its foundation cutting deep into the skin of your palms, your knees, the soles of your feet?

How many times had you bled, and bled, and bled, and bled, and asked no more questions?)

“Alright,” you murmur , lifting your blanket to invite her in.

(It was a small mercy, you supposed. To have a part of her, even if it was just a fraction, a piece, a fragment.

To have her close, and not so far away.) “Come.”

And so, she does. Wincing, groaning, hissing — she does.

You hold your arms out and she falls into them, her face burrowing into the crook of your neck. Her fingers, her nails, her hands — they grip the fabric of your shirt, bunching the cloth and pulling it tight.

(If you were to look down, you would see her knuckles, white, and the veins of her wrist, pronounced and raised — and, most of all, the tremor, the shake, the quiver, the shiver, the tremble of her entire being.

A leaf, battered and broken, blown and thrown by the wind.

A bird, with its wings torn and clipped, left to bleed and rot in the dirt.)

“I-I saw her.”

The admission was uttered so weakly, muffled by the fabric of your shirt, that you nearly missed it.

Your chest rises. “Who?”

“Powder. I–” Your shirt is drawn tighter. “It was so foggy… I-I didn’t even recognise her at first.”

“Vi…”

“I should’ve. I should’ve known. I should’ve seen her, I should’ve stayed with her, I should’ve—”

“Vi.”

“I should’ve—”

“Violet.” 

Her body shudders, her shoulders quake. “She was just a child.”

You hold her closer, until the two of you are flush and her body heat seeps through her clothes and your thin sleepwear, to your flesh. You wrap your arms around her, and carefully, you run your fingers through the jagged, pink strands of her hair. As though she’d skitter off at any moment.

“As were you.”

She doesn’t respond.

So you cradle her, until her breaths are yours and hers.

Until the blood on her lips are yours and hers.

Until her heartbeats are yours and hers.

Until her scars are yours and hers.

(And yours, hers.)

masterlist <3

[pedroscurls]

Fall is here!! Time to get cozy 🍁🍂 what would it be like for Hugh and younger gf (30s-55) as they get ready for fall season? Like probably them starting to live under the same roof all cute and cozy

seasons changing (one-shot)

summary: hugh and reader get ready for fall in new york. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader content warnings: fluff, implied age gap (reader is in their 30s, hugh is 56), hugh is very touchy 😉, reader has some description (outfit and hair), no use of y/n. word count: 698 a/n: i know this is so long overdue and i'm sorry for not getting to this until now! i hope you enjoy it!!! i had a blast writing this (makes me wish i spent my time getting ready for fall with hugh). this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

Fall has always been your favorite season. The crisp, cool air. The leaves changing color. When the seasons change from summer to fall, it always brings a sense of excitement that the holidays are fast approaching. 

And this year is different. Has been different. It’ll be the first time you’re spending it with Hugh in New York since he’s asked you to move in. Part of you still can’t believe this is real, but he tells you just how much he loves it when you decorate the place and how much you make it feel so much more cozy, so much more homey. 

Hugh hates being away from you, but his schedule has been so busy even after Deadpool & Wolverine. He knows that you don’t mind, knows that you understand, but he can’t help but feel guilty for being away from you so frequently. 

So when he finally does get a chance to come home, Hugh’s surprised at the sight of his home that he now shares with you. The moment he steps inside, there’s a sudden sense of warmth that he feels in the pit of his stomach. You’re sitting at the dining table, legs crossed on the chair as you look out the window. He smiles to himself, the entire city scape blanketed by cloudy skies. The trees he can see from afar with leaves the color of orange and it just feels like fall. He can even smell the candle that you lit up, wafting through his entire home. 

Music is quietly playing as you continue to write in your notebook, a cup of coffee nearby. He loves seeing you so comfortable in his home; it surprised him in the beginning how easily you fit into his life, how he now can’t even think of his home without you there. 

It’s like you’ve always belonged there. With him.

“Hey, baby,” he calls out, setting his duffle bag on the couch as he walks in your direction.

When your eyes meet his, there’s a surprise grin on your face. Without hesitation, he watches you get up from your chair and run over to you, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re back early.” 

“Wanted to surprise you,” Hugh smiles, his own arms snaking around your frame. 

“Consider me surprised,” you bury your face against his chest, letting out a contented sigh. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, baby. It feels very cozy in here. I see that you’ve decorated…” Hugh smiles, pulling away to look around the living room and shared kitchen space. 

“Yeah, I couldn’t wait.” 

Hugh walks over to his speaker and raises the volume, the song playing loudly throughout his home. He looks at you and smiles, gently reaching out for your hand. 

“I love it,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms as his hands move along your sides. “I love when you decorate.” 

“Really?” You ask, biting your lower lip as your hands move to rest on his shoulders, gently squeezing. You can hear him let out a contented groan as you slowly continue to massage the tight knots away. 

“Yeah,” Hugh answers, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “You’re making this your home too and I love it. Love you.” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you stare up at him, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s not too much?” 

“Never too much.” He leans down and moves his lips along the side of your neck, hands grazing your backside and squeezing gently. “Smells like fall in here.” 

You gasp quietly, eyes falling shut. “Well, that was the goal.” You let out a whimper when you feel his teeth graze a hot spot on your neck and you reach around to grip the shirt he’s wearing. “There’s still more to decorate…”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it, baby.” He smiles, bending his legs only slightly to lift you into his arms, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist. “But let’s hold off on the decoration because I really did miss you, baby.” 

“What did you have in mind?” 

“How about I show you instead?” Hugh grins, leading you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

[shuenkio]

Love, maybe ? | Sjy ❤︎ 엔.하.이.픈 💌

Paring: Jake X M!reader | Genre: Fluff&Soft .

Synopsis: Base on 'love maybe' by bbm~

Cw: Non.

Non proof read | Eng is not my 1st

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

A❤︎N: Been a week now so I'm back with Jake fluff fic 🥹 idea never come across my mind for a while, hoping you can enjoy also some parts may be error, bare with meh.

"This must be love, baby. Cause I never felt quite this way—

I think this is love, baby. Get weak when you call' my name—" ♫︎ Pause

"Hey M/n! Wanna go play basketball with me ? We need one last person are you in?"

Suddenly, you did. The way his voice was calling for you, alluring, floating, in your ears just making you feel weak in your knees. Think this is love? Maybe?

"Cause oh? Something bout' the way you make me feel like-" ♫︎

"M/n M/n!! I heard the new restaurant downtown has the best steak review, could you go check it out with me? My treat, you going mate? No? But I'll take that as a yes come on" Jake take hold of your hand, intertwine together as once, dragging his feet to his destination where he could show you his favorite thing without knowing, He was your favorite thing, even when you didn't even tell him yet.

"I don't know why, can't control it take hold of me— is this for real?" ♫︎

Sleep less night, boring night when you didn't get any good night text from him. Isn't it weird that you'd be crazy by waiting for his text on your notification? Though you and Jake are just buddies and nothing else. Somehow it makes you insane, no? Whether it'd affect your friendship with him or not, this is driving you silly, can't bottle your feelings any longer as you decide, your life for now.

Confession?

Yes or No

"I give up, just take my HeaRt—" ♫︎

The unexpected night out with Jake, after the prom party, you and Jake decide to go back home together. It was a peaceful night, the clear sky making the moon light shine bright across the whole city and pavement, making it feel safer than ever. Before reaching home, Jake decided he'd gaze at the lake a bit, it was his favorite place after all, under the big willow tree and a single bench.

The moon, reflection on the soothing streaming lake, is both comfort and nostalgia at the same time. As he sat down, taking his time to restore his battery. And so did you.

Two boys sat on the same bench under the big willow tree while viewing the scenario in front of them. You get the deja Vu feeling when you were a kid, sitting alone, feel better that nobody could ever make you feel enough like this.

Also this is the perfect timing, the perfect place that you could pour all of your heart into anything, the bottle heart that is begging to be able to be free right here, and so is the person In front of you, he was the one who made you feel like this all along, should you take a risk ? On the other hand, you thought this was probably the last you could be close to him because, who knows how Jake would answer and respond to your confession? Would he like boy? Would he still be the same with you after you confess? Would he love you back?

"Jake? Can I tell you something, from my mind?"

"Yea... No need to be shy, tell me everything" Jake state, throwing rock to the surface of water, not spare any glance just yet, enjoying the atmosphere.

"you sure we'd be the same if I tell you how I feel?"

"oh come on M/n nothing could go worse, with me I'm Jake" Jake snort under his breath, as he continues what he's doing, probably would not expect what could come at him.

"I like you Jake! And I hate that... I know you'd never like boy, and I know I shouldn't like you but I can't help at how you make me feel even though in fact, we're best friends. I'm sorry" You explain, already prepared how the outcome would reveal. Stare blankly at the lake, knowing too well Jake is catching off guard by your statement right now.

Your intuition is correct, Jake catches his air stuck in his throat. The last thing he worries about is happening right now, beside him, near him, and close to him. Yet he knows, that he can't be overrated at your confession. But his body didn't cooperate with him well, Jake's heart stuttered, a rush of warmth spreading through him as your words settled in the air between them. You liked him. And the truth was—he felt the same.

He calmly replied.

"weird, isn't it? took you long enough to catch up." Jake paused, letting the silence build just enough to make you wonder.

"I’ve been on the same page this whole time."

"same page? Which mean— *gasp*"

"I like you too, idiot"

"Cause I don't know what else to blame— no" ♫︎

[rylem33]

What You Want

Casey sipped her coffee, her shoulders slouched as she stared into her cup. “I just don’t know, Amy. I didn’t mean to quit again, but… well, it just didn’t feel right, you know?”

Amy raised an eyebrow, her fingers tapping against her own mug. “You say that every time, Case. Retail didn’t feel right, the admin job ‘wasn’t a fit,’ the freelancing felt ‘off.’ And now what? The café gig wasn’t cutting it either?”

Casey’s face reddened as she gave a slight shrug, her gaze fixed downward. “It’s not like I don’t want to work or anything. It’s just that—ugh, I don’t know.” She let out a long sigh, trying to put words to the feeling that seemed to haunt her everywhere she went. “I get there, I try to stay motivated, but something’s missing. I end up feeling like I’m just… floating, like there’s no point to any of it.”

Amy leaned back, her face softening as she regarded Casey with an expression somewhere between pity and understanding. “So, what are you waiting for? You need direction, right? A push?”

Casey felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach as she nodded half-heartedly. It felt embarrassing, admitting to feeling so lost at her age, especially to Amy, who had everything in her life so perfectly together. “I guess? I don’t know if I need a push, exactly. It’s more like I need to figure out what I even want to be pushed toward.”

Amy smiled, leaning forward with a gleam in her eye. “Then maybe it’s time you tried something different.”

Casey’s face twisted with a skeptical look as she shot Amy a wary glance. “Oh no. I know that look. You’re about to pitch me some wild idea.”

“Well, wild or not, it worked for me, didn’t it?” Amy shot back, her voice firm. “Do you see me vaping anymore?”

Casey rolled her eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I still can’t believe you actually did that. Hypnosis? Isn’t that just… mind tricks and creepy suggestions?”

Amy crossed her arms, her expression unrelenting. “Come on, Casey. It’s not like the movies. I mean, yes, you let someone guide your mind, but it’s all about relaxation and suggestion. It’s not like they make you cluck like a chicken. The hypnotherapist I used just helped me focus, made me want to quit. I’m serious; it worked like magic.”

Casey’s interest was piqued, despite herself, but she shrugged it off, unwilling to let herself be swept up in yet another thing that wouldn’t work out. “So, what, they put you in a trance, and you woke up a non-vaper?”

Amy laughed. “Not quite. It’s more like they give your mind a nudge. They plant a suggestion, and it just… sticks. If you give it a try, I’m willing to bet they could help you find some clarity. Maybe even a little confidence boost.”

Casey scrunched her nose, stirring her coffee absently, feeling her initial resistance starting to crack. “I don’t know. It sounds weird, like I’m handing over my brain to someone else.”

“You’re not handing it over; you’re steering it,” Amy countered, her tone insistent. “You’re telling it, ‘Hey, brain, we’re done wandering aimlessly.’ You just need a bit of direction. And seriously, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Casey looked away, chewing her lip as she mulled over Amy’s words. There was a part of her that was almost desperate enough to give in, but fear and embarrassment held her back. She hated that it was always Amy pushing her, while she herself seemed forever stuck on the sidelines, never really going anywhere.

With a heavy sigh, Casey finally met Amy’s gaze. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Amy’s face lit up, and she pulled out her phone. “Think about it on the way to your appointment! I’ll book it right now, and trust me—you’re going to feel like a whole new person.”

“Wait—Amy! I didn’t mean right now!” Casey protested, but it was too late.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey sat on the soft, oversized couch in the hypnotherapist’s office, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she took in her surroundings. The walls were a soothing shade of blue, and calming, ambient music played softly in the background. She glanced at the man sitting across from her—a middle-aged therapist with a warm, reassuring smile and an air of quiet confidence.

“So, Casey,” he began, his voice gentle yet direct, “why don’t you tell me what’s brought you here today?”

Casey hesitated, feeling a bit self-conscious. “Um… well, to be honest, I’m not sure if this is going to work. I mean, I don’t even know what my problem is exactly. I just… I can’t seem to stick to anything.” She sighed, looking down at her hands. “I’ve tried different jobs, different hobbies, but nothing ever feels right. I’m just… floating, I guess.”

The therapist nodded, his gaze steady and nonjudgmental. “So, you’re feeling a lack of direction? A sense that you don’t know where you’re headed or what would give you a real sense of purpose?”

“Exactly,” Casey replied, relieved that he seemed to understand. “It’s not that I’m lazy or that I don’t care. I do… I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“And that’s left you feeling, what? Restless? Unsatisfied?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think that’s it. I want to be… someone, I guess. I want to feel like I know who I am, what I want.”

The therapist’s smile deepened slightly. “I can help you with that, Casey. Through hypnosis, we can start working with your mind to find and reinforce that sense of purpose and self. I’d like to try a session with you today to plant a suggestion that could help you start taking those first steps.”

Casey shifted a little on the couch, nervousness flickering across her face. “I mean, if you think it’ll help. I’m… willing to try.”

“Good,” he replied, his voice reassuring. “All I need you to do is relax, let go, and trust the process. Hypnosis is nothing more than a deeply relaxed state where your mind is open to positive suggestions. I’ll guide you through it, and we’ll start by focusing on that desire you have—to find out what you want and to go after it.”

Casey took a deep breath, nodding. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The therapist’s tone softened even further, lulling and steady. “Excellent, Casey. Now, just make yourself comfortable, close your eyes… and let yourself sink into that relaxation, letting all the tension fall away…”

Casey’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned back into the cushions, his words drawing her deeper into a state of calm. The last thing she remembered was his soothing voice leading her down, down into the peaceful quiet, her thoughts melting away into softness as he gently guided her mind….

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey blinked in the bright afternoon light as she walked out to meet Amy, still feeling a bit fuzzy from the session. Amy was already on her feet, her expression eager.

“So?” Amy asked, practically bouncing. “How’d it go? Did he put you under? Say anything weird?”

Casey chuckled, running a hand through her hair as she tried to piece her thoughts together. “I… think so?” she said, frowning slightly. “I remember us talking about why I’m so indecisive, and he was really calm, just asking me questions. Then he started telling me to relax, and…” She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she searched her memory. “Honestly, it’s kind of a blank. I know I felt relaxed, but I don’t remember much after that.”

Amy grinned. “Sounds about right. Hypnosis doesn’t always feel like some big, earth-shattering thing right away. But it’ll get in there, work in the background. So maybe next time you’re struggling to make a choice, you’ll just… know what you want.”

Casey snorted. “Yeah, maybe. Though that would be a pretty huge change for me.”

They started strolling down the street, passing a row of little cafés and restaurants. Amy stopped in front of their usual spot, a casual Thai place they both liked. “What do you think? Thai?”

Casey looked at the place, hesitating, a dozen little thoughts flitting through her mind as they always did. It was a comfortable choice, and she wasn’t in the mood to argue or analyze anything. But then, faint and unassuming, a small thought surfaced: You know what you want…

“I mean… I could go for Thai, or maybe…” She found herself glancing across the street at a little Italian bistro they’d mentioned trying a while back. “What about that Italian place? We’ve been saying we should try it.”

Amy gave her a surprised look but shrugged. “Sure, I’m up for it if you are.”

They crossed the street, Casey feeling a bit surprised at herself. That was easier than I thought, she mused. Maybe she’d even try to make a few more decisions for herself to see if it could stick.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey opened the door to her apartment and found Liam lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up and gave her a warm smile as she walked in.

“Hey, you,” he greeted, sitting up. “How was your day?”

She dropped her bag onto a nearby chair, shrugging. “Not bad. Amy kind of roped me into something… unusual.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she talked me into going to a hypnotherapist.” Casey laughed, her cheeks flushing a little. “I know, it sounds ridiculous. I didn’t think it would do anything, but…” She paused, glancing away. “It was… interesting.”

Liam’s smile faded a bit, his brow knitting. “Hypnosis? That’s… not something I’d expect from you.”

“Right?” she said, dropping onto the couch next to him. “But Amy swears by it. She thought it might help me feel more… I don’t know, more sure of myself.”

“So did it work?” he asked, searching her face.

Casey shrugged. “I’m not sure. It was all kind of foggy. But I don’t feel any different.”

Liam nodded toward his phone. “Well, I decided to take the guesswork out of dinner for you. I ordered from that Chinese place you like. Should be here soon.”

Normally, Casey would have shrugged and let him make the call; it saved her from agonizing over small decisions. But this time, as the words settled over her, something rose up inside, that faint but clear whisper: You know what you want; you deserve what you want.

She paused, her thoughts surprising even herself. “Actually… I was thinking pizza.”

Liam glanced at her, his expression mildly surprised. “Pizza?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling a strange firmness in her voice. “There’s that new place on Eighth, the one with the pepperoni rolls I keep hearing about. We should try that.”

“Oh.” He seemed caught off guard but didn’t push back. “Well… maybe next time? I’ve already placed the order.”

The thought flared again, insistent and unwavering. You know what you want.

“Can’t you cancel it?” Casey asked, keeping her tone light but firm. “I really want to try the pizza.”

He blinked, his eyes lingering on her a moment before he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I can call them back. Sure.” He picked up his phone, casting her an uncertain look as he started dialing.

A few minutes later, the order was changed, and the pizza was on its way. They sat together on the couch, Casey feeling a slight, unexpected satisfaction. Liam, on the other hand, seemed to be watching her a little differently, as if trying to piece something together.

“What do you want to watch later?” he asked, leaning back and scrolling through movie options. “I was thinking we could start that new thriller you mentioned last week.”

Usually, Casey would have just gone with whatever he’d chosen, trusting he’d pick something decent. But the same, steady thought surfaced in her mind again: You deserve what you want. And she didn’t want a thriller.

“How about a comedy instead?” she said, keeping her tone casual. “I’m in the mood for something light.”

Liam paused, his thumb hovering over the screen as he glanced at her. “Comedy?” His surprise was barely hidden, though he forced a small smile. “Sure. That’s fine with me.”

They settled on a rom-com, but Casey couldn’t help noticing the way he seemed to study her between scenes, a little more quiet than usual. He was clearly surprised, maybe even a bit thrown off. But, for the first time, Casey didn’t feel like shrinking back or apologizing for pushing a little. Instead, she just felt…certain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Casey stepped through the apartment door, her heels clicking on the floor as she set her bag down. She pulled off her blazer revealing a deep cut top, glancing at herself in the hallway mirror and feeling a little thrill. She looked… professional…different.

Liam looked up from the couch, his eyes widening as he took her in. “Wow,” he said, standing up. “You look… incredible. Where were you all day?”

A smile broke across her face as she walked over, hanging her blazer on the back of a chair. “I was at a law firm,” she said, smoothing down her crisp dress shirt. “I had an interview.”

“Wait, a law firm? An interview?” Liam blinked, looking as if he hadn’t quite heard her right. “What law firm? What for?”

“For an internship,” she said, still smiling. She felt a swell of excitement as she said the words. “This morning, it just… hit me, out of nowhere. I knew what I wanted to do. I want to be a lawyer.”

Liam’s eyebrows shot up. “Just… just like that?”

She nodded, her excitement building as she recounted the day. “Yes. I got up, got dressed, and went straight to the law offices downtown. I walked right in and asked if they had any internships available. I mean, I didn’t take no for an answer.”

Liam stared at her, clearly struggling to keep up. “And they just… hired you?”

Casey grinned, a little proud. “They did. A paid internship while I get my degree. The hiring manager even said she liked my… confidence.” She took a breath, as if reliving the thrill of that moment. “I just felt like I knew it was the right thing. So I went for it.”

Liam was quiet for a long moment, his expression shifting from surprise to something she couldn’t quite read. “So… you’re suddenly going to law school?” he asked, his voice tentative.

Casey shrugged, still feeling that steady certainty. “Yes. I mean, why not? I can handle it.”

He nodded slowly, his face still a mix of confusion and something else, something almost like apprehension. “It’s… a lot to take in. You’ve never talked about wanting to do that before.”

“Well, now I know it’s what I want.” She smiled, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “I’ve never felt this clear before, Liam. Isn’t it exciting?”

Liam returned her smile, though there was a hint of hesitation behind it. “It’s… definitely something.” 

Without breaking her gaze, she stepped closer, pressing her body against his, her hand trailing up to his chest.

“I’ve missed you today,” she murmured, her voice low. “And right now… I want you.”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing away, his face tense. “Case, I don’t know… I’m not really in the mood right now.”

The words hit her like ice water, and she blinked, her hand pausing on his chest. Not in the mood? A twist of embarrassment mingled with surprise, leaving her momentarily speechless. They’d never been here before; Liam was always so open to her. Why would he say no?

But the embarrassment quickly melted, replaced by a simmering frustration. You know what you want; you deserve what you want. The familiar thought pushed back against the rejection, and she straightened, that tight, unyielding certainty hardening her resolve.

“Come on,” she urged, her voice growing firmer as she leaned in, brushing her lips along his jaw. “I want you, Liam. And I know you want me, too.”

Liam took a small step back, giving her a look that was half apology, half something she couldn’t quite place. “Casey… not tonight, alright? I’m just… not feeling it.”

For a moment, the refusal didn’t compute. She felt her jaw clench, her frustration rising even as a part of her tried to understand. Why would he turn me down?

Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I don’t get why you’re brushing me off.” She straightened, crossing her arms, her tone sharpening. “I want you, Liam. And you… you should want this, too.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his face tense. “I do… usually. It’s just… tonight’s been a lot, you know?” He gestured vaguely at her, as if she were somehow part of the problem. “You’ve changed so much in the last couple of days, and I’m trying to keep up. I just… I need a bit of time to adjust. That’s all.”

“Adjust?” She scoffed, her voice hardening. “What’s there to adjust to? So I know what I want now. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Of course it is, but…” He trailed off, frustration clear in his face. “But maybe I need a little space to wrap my head around all of it. You’re coming on so strong, and… I don’t know, Casey, it’s just… a lot.”

She took a step back, the sting of his words settling into her, unfamiliar and uncomfortable. She wanted him, she was clear about it—why should he hesitate? She felt herself bristle at the rejection, her jaw tightening as she held back a retort.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice icy. “If you’re not interested, then forget it.”

He looked down, his shoulders slumping a bit. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Case. It’s just… tonight, I need a little room. That’s all.”

But she was already heading toward the bedroom without another word, her frustration simmering hotly as she left him standing alone, looking after her in confusion and regret.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Casey emerged from the bedroom, her heart still pounding with frustration. She had slipped into a figure-hugging dress, the kind she rarely wore around Liam, reserving it for occasions she wanted to feel bold, confident, sexy. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she’d touched up her makeup—darkened her lashes, painted her lips a rich, seductive red. She didn’t just look good. She looked powerful.

Liam, sitting at the kitchen table, glanced up from his phone, his eyes widening as he took her in. “Casey…” he began, his voice uncertain, a wary look in his eyes. “Going somewhere?”

“Maybe,” she replied, her voice smooth as silk. She took her time, crossing the room with purpose, letting him watch her, knowing exactly the effect she had on him. She could see his gaze waver, drifting over her, yet the hesitation lingered on his face.

“I thought we could pick up where we left off,” she said, her tone a mixture of suggestion and challenge. “Or… I can head out.”

Liam looked away, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “Casey, look, I… I told you. Tonight isn’t a good night for me. I just need a little time.”

Casey felt a surge of irritation rise again. You deserve what you want. The words repeated in her mind, steady and relentless, sparking something bold, almost reckless. She took a step closer, her gaze never leaving his.

“I don’t think you get it, Liam,” she said, her voice low, her tone tight. “I want you. And I don’t want to wait, I don’t want to be patient. I shouldn’t have to.”

He swallowed, looking up at her, clearly taken aback by her intensity. “Case, I… I get that. And I want you too. Just… not right this second. Can’t we talk about this?”

“What’s there to talk about?” she replied, arching an eyebrow, challenging him to answer.

He hesitated, struggling for words. “This just… isn’t like you. You’ve always been easygoing, we never fight over stuff like this. I don’t know why this is suddenly so…” He shook his head, clearly at a loss. “I feel like I’m talking to a different person.”

She studied him, feeling the words echo in her mind, pushing her forward, unwilling to back down. She didn’t respond, but her silence said enough. If he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, then she’d get it elsewhere.

After a pause, she flashed a cold, daring smile. “Fine. If you don’t want this, I’ll find someone who does.”

She saw the shock flash across his face, but she didn’t wait for a response. She picked up her bag, slipped on her heels, and walked out the door without a backward glance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night, Casey found herself in a dim, crowded club. She moved through the crowd, cutting through the room with focused intent. She wasn’t here to waste time. She was here because she wanted something, and tonight she’d have it.

A man stepped into her path, flashing her a grin, his eyes drifting down to her dress. “Hey there,” he said, leaning in close. “You look like you could use a drink.”

She arched an eyebrow, sizing him up with a look that was more appraisal than interest. Attractive enough, sure, but the easy grin and lazy charm grated on her nerves. She could feel the words whispering through her mind, familiar and undeniable: You know what you want; you deserve what you want.

“If I wanted one,” she replied, her voice cold and dismissive, “I’d have gotten it myself.”

The man’s smile faltered, a flash of confusion crossing his face. He let out a nervous chuckle, still hovering too close for her comfort. “Just trying to be friendly.”

She didn’t bother hiding her irritation, her eyes narrowing as she met his gaze, unflinching. “I don’t need you to try.”

Without waiting for a response, she brushed past him, her attention already shifting away, a thrill rising in her chest. She was done humoring anyone who couldn’t give her exactly what she wanted. As she let herself melt into the beat of the music, her eyes caught sight of another man watching her with clear intent.

Her lips curled into a small, satisfied smile. Now this was more like it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Minutes later, Casey found herself pressed against the cool tile wall in the dimly lit bathroom of a club, her fingers tangled in the hair of a man she’d only met minutes before. 

Casey gasped as his hands tightened on her hips, pulling her even closer, her laughter turning into a low, sultry moan. “God, yes,” she breathed, her voice echoing off the tiled walls, “Just like that…”

The man grinned against her neck, and she could feel his breath, hot and ragged. “You like that?” he murmured, his tone a mix of confidence and awe, like he could hardly believe the enthusiasm she was giving him.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk as her fingers slid over his shoulders. “I want this. I deserve this.”

She let out a soft, reckless laugh, her voice huskier than she’d ever heard it. “Don’t stop,” she commanded, her words sharp with hunger. “I’ve been waiting for this all night.”

As he obliged, she felt herself tip her head back, the orgasm ripping through her. “Yes, yes! That’s exactly what I needed,” she whispered, her voice brimming with satisfaction.

She was finally getting what she deserved, and she loved every second of it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was nearly three in the morning when Casey finally slipped her key into the lock and entered the apartment. She shut the door quietly, already kicking off her heels, when she looked up and froze. Liam was sitting on the couch, his face pale and exhausted, his eyes bloodshot as he looked up at her.

“Casey,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Where have you been?”

She rolled her eyes, pulling her bag off her shoulder and setting it on the table. “Out.”

He rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Out? You’ve been gone for hours. You didn’t answer your phone, you just… left. Do you have any idea what that’s been like?”

She shrugged, heading into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. “I didn’t think you’d be waiting up. You made it pretty clear earlier you didn’t want anything to do with me tonight.”

Liam followed her, his voice shaking with a mix of anger and worry. “I told you I needed some space, not for you to disappear to…” He broke off, his gaze dropping to her, his face clouding with something deeper as he took in her disheveled appearance, her smeared lipstick, her flushed cheeks. “What… did you do tonight, Casey?”

She held his gaze, unflinching. “I wanted you, Liam,” she said, her tone unapologetic. “I made that pretty clear. You refused, so I found someone else who didn’t.”

The words hung in the air, cold and cutting, and she didn’t look away, letting him absorb them.

Liam’s face crumpled as the realization hit, his expression one of raw hurt. “You… you’re serious?”

She took a sip of water, unbothered by the tremor in his voice. “Look, I’m not going to pretend otherwise. I wanted something, and I got it. I don’t see why we have to make this a big deal.”

“A big deal?” His voice cracked, and he took a step back, running a hand over his face. “Casey, do you even hear yourself? You just… you went and slept with someone else, just like that, and now you act like it’s nothing?”

She sighed, her patience thinning. “Liam, you weren’t interested. I was. Why should I go without because you decided not to give me what I wanted?”

He stared at her, his face a mixture of anger, disbelief, and pain. “Because… we’re supposed to be together, Casey. We’re supposed to care about each other, to—”

“We do,” she interrupted, her voice flat. “But that doesn’t mean I should go without the things I want. I deserve to get what I want, Liam. I’m done feeling guilty about that.”

The weight of her words seemed to crush him. His shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky breath, his eyes rimmed with tears. “I… I don’t know who you are anymore.”

She watched him, unfazed. “That’s not my problem.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next afternoon, Casey met Amy at their usual café. She strolled in, confident and calm, scanning the room until she spotted Amy at a corner table. But as she walked over, she could immediately tell something was off.

Amy looked up, her face tense, her lips pressed into a tight line. As soon as Casey sat down, Amy crossed her arms, fixing her with a hard stare.

“Casey,” Amy began, her voice low and serious. “What happened last night with Liam?”

Casey rolled her eyes, sighing. “Oh, I see he ran to you already. Guess he needed someone to cry to.”

Amy’s eyes flashed with hurt and anger. “Casey, don’t be like that. He was heartbroken when he called me. He told me what you did… what you said to him when you got home. I could barely believe it.”

“Well, it’s the truth,” Casey replied, shrugging, unfazed by Amy’s reaction. “I wanted something, he didn’t want to give it to me, so I found someone who would. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“The big deal?” Amy’s voice rose slightly, but she forced herself to stay calm. “Casey, you cheated on him. And you acted like it was nothing. That isn’t you. What happened to you?”

Casey scoffed, leaning back, folding her arms. “Maybe I’ve just decided to stop living for what others want, Amy. I deserve to get what I want. I’m not going to sit around waiting for Liam, or anyone else, to catch up with me.”

Amy shook her head slowly, her expression pained. “Casey… do you even remember who you used to be? The friend I knew would never have done this. Do you remember how you stayed up with me all night when I broke up with David? You went out of your way to make sure I felt okay, even though you had to work the next morning.”

Casey shrugged, waving her hand dismissively. “That was different.”

“Different?” Amy’s voice cracked, her eyes searching Casey’s for a trace of the friend she used to know. “Or how about last year, when Liam lost his job, and you helped him look for new ones? You were there for him through everything. You were kind, Casey. You actually cared about people.”

Casey’s mouth tightened as she felt a flicker of irritation rise, her jaw clenching. She didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to remember it. You know what you want; you deserve what you want.

“People change, Amy,” she replied coldly. “Maybe I’ve just stopped letting everyone else’s problems weigh me down. I’ve moved on, and maybe you should too.”

Amy’s eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief. “You used to be the most caring person I knew. But now, you’re acting like everyone else should just fall in line because you’ve decided you’re entitled to anything you want.”

Casey’s face hardened. “I don’t need you or Liam lecturing me,” she snapped, her voice icy. “I’m finally going after what makes me feel good, and if that’s too much for you, maybe you should take a look at your own life.”

Amy’s face paled, her eyes wide with shock. “You know what? Fine,” she said, standing up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “But don’t come running to me when you realize you’ve pushed everyone who cares about you away.”

Casey met her gaze with a dismissive shrug. “If they can’t handle it, maybe I don’t need them anyway.”

Amy stood there for a moment, hurt and disbelief written across her face, before shaking her head and walking away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few months later when Casey spotted Amy walking out of a bookstore. Casey’s heels clicked on the pavement as she approached, a slight smile playing on her lips as she adjusted the strap of her designer handbag. By her side was a man several years older, handsome and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. He paused as Casey turned toward Amy, observing the interaction with quiet interest.

Amy looked up, her eyes widening as she recognized Casey. “Casey?” She hesitated, glancing at the man at her side before looking back at Casey. “I… I didn’t expect to see you.”

“Hello, Amy,” Casey replied, her tone calm. She glanced at her companion and gave a faint nod, and he offered a polite smile before stepping away to give them some privacy.

Amy took in Casey’s appearance, the designer clothes and effortless confidence, and forced a small, bittersweet smile. “It’s been a while,” she said, folding her arms. “You seem… well.”

“I am,” Casey replied, her eyes fixed on Amy, unwavering. “And I’m glad I ran into you, actually.” She tilted her head, her expression softening slightly. “I’ve decided I want you back in my life, Amy. I want my best friend back.”

Amy let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “Casey… I don’t know what you expect, but I don’t think that’s possible. You’re not the person I used to know. You’re not even the kind of friend I can relate to anymore.”

Casey’s smile didn’t falter. In fact, it seemed to widen, a knowing glint in her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly, her voice edged with something unreadable.

Amy frowned, glancing down for a moment, but when she looked back up, Casey was studying her intently. “What—?” Amy started to ask, but then Casey murmured a phrase, a string of words that sounded strange and familiar all at once. Immediately, Amy’s vision blurred, and a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her.

Her hands reached out instinctively, one steadying herself on the brick wall beside her, the other gripping her temple. “Casey… what’s… happening?”

Casey took a step closer, her voice calm, almost soothing. “You see, Amy, after our last talk, I realized I deserved more than just a former friend. I deserved loyalty. I deserved my best friend back, and it turns out,” she smirked, “the hypnotherapist who helped you quit vaping was… very willing to help me, too. Just took a few compromising photos, and he was all too happy to follow my instructions.”

Amy’s dizziness intensified, her eyes unfocused as she struggled to process Casey’s words. She blinked, everything feeling hazy, as Casey’s voice continued.

“So, a few subtle sessions was all it took,” Casey said, her tone like silk. “One follow-up for vaping, another to help ‘reinforce’ your confidence, and I had him plant the right trigger. You see, Amy, I do know what I want, and I deserve what I want. I wanted you to be my best friend… forever.”

The dizziness began to ebb, and Amy slowly straightened, her movements controlled and precise. Her eyes focused, the uncertainty vanishing, replaced by a cold, devoted expression. She looked at Casey, her face suddenly serene, any trace of sadness or resistance erased. She flashed a smile devoid of warmth but filled with complete, unwavering loyalty.

“Casey,” Amy said softly, her voice calm and steady. “Of course. I’ll always be here for you.”

Casey’s own smile widened, satisfied. She took Amy’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I knew you would. After all, best friends are loyal. Isn’t that right?”

Amy nodded, her gaze locked on Casey’s, an unbreakable bond reflected in her eyes. “For now and always,” she replied, her voice a whisper.

Casey released her hand, and turned to welcome the man waiting for her.  As he approached, Casey’s ruthless smile lingered, knowing she finally had everything she wanted.

[scorpioriesling]

Just started reading too hot to handle, can’t wait for the next part I love Lucien and the reader together 🫶🏻

Too Hot to Handle - Finale

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Characters featured: Reader, Feyre, Morrigan, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Amren, Cassian, Lucien, Tarquin, Rhysand, Helion, Azriel, & Tamlin

Warning(s): None UP UNTIL the bonus *5 Years Later* part... then you get suggestion, smut-ish, implied smut, dirty talk (you're welcome? like, finally? damn) Sooo maybe don't read that if you're not 18+ or not comfortable with that!

SR’s Note: Guys... I am so sorry this took centuries to get out to you all. I can't thank you enough for sticking around for this little series, and I have enjoyed it so much. I have been so busy with wedding planning (it's literally 34 days from now) and I've had barely any time to write! Please forgive me, and enjoy the season finale of Too Hot to Handle! Yay! Tags: @velarisdusk @lilah-asteria @starlightazriel @mellowmusings @paintedbyshadows @book-obsessed124 @kitsunetori @rcarbo1

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Good morning guests!"

"Good morning, Lana!"

The chorus of uncharacteristically chipper voices ring out from the beds around you, usually to monotonous and bleak in stark contrast to the early morning sun streaming in through the large windows.

"Luckily for you, this is the last morning you'll have to wake up to the sound of my voice," she jokes, earning a couple chuckles from the group. Limbs stretch from beneath blankets all around, and you slowly make an appearance as you untangle yourself from Lucien's grasp.

"Aw, Lana, I was just getting used to it!" Cassian chides, and Lana's lights flicker.

"No need to worry, Cassian -- I'm sure if things with Nesta don't work out, I'll be seeing you back here next season." This earns him a few sidelong glances and guffaws from his friends.

"Damn Lana... you're ruthless today!"

"I am -- I've got a big decision to make," she continues. "As it is the last day of the retreat, and many of you have come such a long way from where you were when you first arrived, I am sure I'll find difficulty in choosing a winner for the prize fund, which currently sits at $110,000." Hushed voices flicker between beds, but Lana continues nonetheless.

"In addition to the winner being announced, you may remember that those in couples get an extra treat today; their final dates," she reminds. You blush as you glance beside you and catch Lucien's gaze, his stare already fized on you. A small smile blooms on his lips when he meets your eye.

"So -- everyone get ready. Couples, I'll see you on the dock in one hour; everyone else, please enjoy your last day at the retreat to spend as you please." Her lights dim, and a few members mutter their thanks before blankets are thrown back in haste and guests begin making way for the showers and dressing rooms.

"I wonder what kind of date we'll get?" Lucien's deep morning voice says, and you feel the flicker of heat between your thighs. His gaze still searches every inch of you, taking in every strand of hair and every inch of skin like its the last time he'd see you.

"I'm not sure," you say, shifting beneath the blanket. His hand finds your waist, tugging you close so he can wrap his arms around you again.

"Luciennn," you groan, his signature earthy aroms immediately infultrating your senses (just the way you like). "I need to get ready-"

"Well, I need five more minutes to snuggle you," he says, resting his chin atop your head. You bury your face into his bare chest, reveling in the feel of his skin against your cheek. You hated to admit it, but you needed those five minutes just as much.

"Five minutes," you agree.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"I knew Lana was bougie -- but to get us each a yacht?"

Helion's teasing remark was acknowledged with a few nods, most of the guests staring out at the blue ocean in awe. He couldn't be more correct; at the end of the dock, five gleaming white yachts madetheir way to the shore. As the first one approached, the Captain appeared from the lower deck and set the boat at an idle speed.

"One ship for guests, Cassian and, Nesta!" He called. Nesta glanced sidelong at you, and you could only offer her a shrug before her giddy counterpart took off toward the ship. She huffed in amusement, following gracefully behind.

"Captain Wheathers," he introduced, shaking Cassian's hand. "I'll be taking the both of you out today -- any questions please feel free to ask." Cassian bounces from foot to foot with excitement.

"Awesome, man! Hey, nice toy you got here. Real clean," he muses. You can practically feel Nesta's eyes roll, and you can't help the small chuckle you let out. As they disembark, the group waves them off and the next boat pulls in.

"Guests Rhysand and Feyre, please!"

"Ooh! That's, us, Rhys!" Feyre squeals. Her excitement makes you smile, a sentiment Rhysand seems to share as she giddily grabs his hand and steps toward the edge of the dock. Your heart swells as he pulls her close, holding her for balance as she takes a wobbly step onto the ship.

"I wonder when it'll be our turn," Lucien purrs, his fingers tracing along the curve of your waist. You'd opted for your white bikini today (Lucien's pick, actually) and sheer skirt cover up -- his touch only sent goosebumps over your bare skin.

"Soon, I'm sure of it-"

"Lucien Vanserra, and Y/N Y/L/N, please?"

You hadn't realized Feyre and Rhys had left, let alone another boat had arrived. Reguardless, Lucien's fingers find yours, threading through in the same way you've come to find familiar by now, and you both step forward to the end of the dock.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"The ride should be short -- maybe, fifteen or twenty minutes at this speed before we get to the designated spot," Captain Morgan explains.

"But, while we ride, please -- feel free to move about, there are drinks, snacks, food, water... I believe they have the picnic lunches in there for you when we make the stop, though." He winks.

"Thank you, sir!" Lucien says politely, bracing his hands on the railing near where the Captain is navigating the boat. He gives him a polite nod back in response.

You decide to make yourself comfortable on one of the couches, the plush seat more inviting than standing and balancing against the crashing waves the boat is cutting through. Lucien doesn't seem to mind, still glued to the railing as he peers out at the line where the sky meets the sea.

Sitting back, you take in the view yourself. You really could not have gotten luckier. Truly... the male before you, radiant in all his glory, shining as though he is the sun himself. Never would you have dreamt of meeting someone so special, so caring -- Hell, all the males you'd been with before only care about themselves, or what Avenue they live on, or only seemed to talk too much about the damned stock market.

Lucien though... Gods. He truly was made perfectly. The way his amber hair flowed against his gorgeously tan skin, his perfectly toned arms and his lean torso -- I mean, he was tall, his legs went on for miles, and he was talented in so many ways, other than being so smart, so funny, so caring about how others felt-

"We have arrived!"

You blinked, practically shaking your head to come out of your stupor. The soft click of the keys as the Captain shuts off the engine has your gaze wandering, looking out at the vast open ocean -- no dock, no shoreline in sight. Just wide open blue... and two, multicolored eyes looking back at you.

"Too busy checking me out to notice we parked?" Lucien chuckles, stalking over to where you're seated. Your cheeks flush, but you know it's true.

"No," you scoff. "I wasn't... doing that. I was, distracted. By... something else." He takes a seat next to you, leaning in close as his gaze flickers to the top of your bikini bra.

"I was a little distracted too, every time we went over a wave," he whispers lowly. Your breath catches in your throat, the heated feeling between your legs returning from earlier this morning.

The sound of an appoaching engine cuts the moment short, and Lucien leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he smirks at your flushed expression. "Hey, I think it was cute that you were lookin' at me anyway." He winks. You roll your eyes.

"Lucien, I said I wasn't-"

"Alright, so -- the staff ship is here to pick me up, I just wanted to go over a few things with you guys before I headed out," Captain Morgan explains. You straighten, and he points toward the water below.

"We'll be back at the villa for around two hours," he checks his watch. "It's eleven now, so around one p.m. we should be making rounds to come back and pick everyone up to head back for the evening," he explains. He then motions to the lower cabin, pointing out safety supplies, the emergency phone, medical kit, and other necessities. Then he gets to the upper deck.

"Finally -- you have access to the upper deck. There is food and drinks provided should you choose to have those, but again please use caution when consuming alcohol. Also, swimming... of course, you can swim, this is the ocean. Please, use, caution, and always remember we are just a phone call away." He ends with a smile.

"Thank you so much-" Lucien starts as the Captain turns to exit, but he quickly turns back to us before departing.

"Oh! Almost forgot. The other boats are within driving distance, but not necessarily swimming or seeing eye distance. So, if you need anything, it is best to just use the phone." He gestures to the emergency phone again before bracing his hands on the exit ladder. "I also do want to point out that you are out in the open, and the boats are equipped with cameras so... maybe, uh... keep that in mind, too." He chuckles, meeting Lucien's eye and earning a laugh from him too. You could not feel anymore embarassed, but thankfully the man starts to climb down, making way for the awaiting deck full of other crew members.

"Have a good time!" He calls, and the boat speeds off, leaving the two of you alone. In the middle of the ocean. On a single yacht.

All to yourselves.

In that moment, your stomach rumbles, and before you can cough or try to cover it up, Lucien lets out a joyful laugh. His contagious Colgate smile only makes you humor the situation, and he dramatically motions toward the stairs leading up toward the upper deck.

"Shall we, my hungry lady?"

That earns him a smack on the shoulder -- but, the stairs you ascend.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The calming sound of the ocean around you only made the moment more perfect. That compiled with the warmth from the midday sun, the feel of the plush towel beneath you, and the burst of juicy raspberry on your tongue -- it was intoxicating, a feeling you almost wished would never end.

And to top it all off, you got to share it all with the most wonderful male you'd ever met.

"So, what do you think you'll miss most about this place when we leave?" He asks, casually popping a grape in his mouth before looking up at you.

You, is your first thought as you gaze down at him, his casual position on the towel propped up on his forearm. You reach for a cheese cube, trying to come up with an answer that sounds less clingy.

"Well... I mean, this has felt like such a vacation, it's beautiful here," you say, peering out at the water. You sit with your ankles crossed, leaned onto one hip as one of your hands lays flat on the deck floor.

"It is beautiful here," he agrees. "I think you are beautiful, Y/N." Your gaze returns, and you watch as a slow smile creeps onto his face. You chuckle, shaking your head at his praise.

"Well, thank you." You say, reaching for your water bottle and sipping the rest of it. "I think you're quite handsome yourself."

"Ahh, really?" His hand clutches his heart in faux-surprise as he makes to stand, extending his hand to you. "I'll take it for you."

You look up at him, shielding your eyes in the blinding sun. "Oh, are you sure? I mean, I can-"

"Please. Allow me." He gently takes your empty bottle, turning to head down the stairs. You sigh, taking in the air around you again. You need to tell him, today. More than ever, you know how you feel, and leaving this place without him would be the worst heartbreak you'd ever felt -- like part of you would be without, somewhere in the world, and you don't know if you'd be able to handle that.

You're sure of it.

In minutes he's back... this time, without a shirt. He is balancing two fresh waters in one hand and two sparkling glasses of champagne in the other. He sets them before you with ease, settling down on the other side of the towel with a smile.

"I found the champagne," he says, brows raised as he gestures to the glasses. You grin, taking one and handing the other to him.

"I see that," You say. "But, you forgot your shirt."

He laughs and he takes the stem from you. "Hey, I got hot!" He holds out the rim for a toast. "Surely, you're not complaining...?" You shake your head slowly, and he winks at you.

"What should we toast to?" He asks, and you take in a breath.

"Hmm... our last day here, in paradise. We made it, baby!" You smile, and he laughs.

"We made it, baby! Me and sticky fingers, on a yacht, on our last day in paradise! Cheers to that." He clinks his glass with yours, and you take a long sip, the bubbles tingling your throat as you swallow it. Momentary sadness washes over you, anxiety over the words you know are to come, how he would respond. You set down your glass.

"What... do you think you'll miss most?" You ask. Lucien's brows raise, and he sets down his flute as well. He chews the inside of his lip, contemplating for a moment before he settles on an answer.

"Well, I was going to try to come up with a simple answer, or one that didn't come off so, attached, but," he fumbles. "To be honest, I think what I'm going to miss the most is you, Y/N."

A knot begins to form in your throat. A few beats of silence pass before you speak.

"Maybe... maybe, you don't have to." Your gaze lifts from the towel, his hopeful eyes meeting yours. You stare at eachother for what feels like eternity, the silence between you filled with a hundred unspoken words.

"Lucien," you whisper, your voice coming out shakier than you like. "I... I don't want to leave here without you." His eyes widen, and your heartbeat quickens.

"I don't want to not be around you," you say, an ounce of confidence behind your words this time. "I... I want to, take you to my favorite places. And, I want to, show you the town I grew up in, and-" you pause, the lump in your throat growing so tight you feel like you may not breathe. "I want you to be in all of the memories I still haven't made yet, Lucien. I- I don't think, I could make them, with someone, else." You say quietly. When you look to him again, he blinks back at you, so locked in on what you're admitting that he'd leaned closer and physically scooted across the towel to sit nearer.

"Lucien, say something, please-"

"I love you, Y/N." He interrupts, the words coming out crystal clear. His hands take yours, his gaze searching your expression for any sign of doubt at his monumental confession.

"Oh my Gods, Y/N, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have just dropped that on you like that, I-"

You don't give him a chance to answer, pulling him in and crashing your lips onto his in the most passionate kiss the two of you had shared yet. He immediately gave in, his mouth moving in time with yours as his hands guided your fingers to brace against his shoulders before his own snaked around your waist. He pulled you onto his lap, his hands caressing every inch of skin across your back and waist as you continued pressing your lips against his with fervor, relishing in the taste of the man that you could admit you loved.

Only pulling back a few inches, Lucien's brow narrowed slightly at the lack of mouth-to-mouth contact -- but you only smiled down at him as your hands held the sides of his face.

"I love you too," you said, and watched as his breath quickened in realization before his mouth was on yours once again. You weren't sure if he even registered that the two of you recieved your green light, but to you, that wasn't what mattered the most anyway.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You pressed a soft kiss to Lucien's cheek as you lay beside him, basking in the afternoon sun. After your heartleft confession (and rather heated makeout session to follow), you'd both jumped in the ocean and swam for a bit before growing tired and ending up on the deck once more, lying upon the towels in the sun.

"Do you feel different since you got here?" Lucien asks. You sit up, the sun growing a bit too warm on your face as you peer down at him. He shields his eyes from the rays so he can look up at you.

"Hmm..." You consider. "I suppose I am different in some ways, I guess. I mean, not who I am really, but I feel like I am, complete, in a way. I feel better, now. Maybe, because I met you." Your own words send a thrill through you, knowing Lucien really could be the one, and he grins up at you, reaching to tuck a stray strand of damp hair behind your ear.

"I know I've changed," he says, dropping his hand. "Not the same country kid from Carolina that walked in here a few months ago, thats for sure." He shrugs.

Oh right. That.

"About that," you bite your lip, twiddling with your fingers. Lucien registers the silence, adjusting to a sitting positon to face you fully.

"What is it?" He asks, his fingers lightly taking yours to stop you from fidgeting.

"I... Lucien, what do we... where do we go? From here?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"What, was the 'I love you' not indication enough?"

"No, I just mean, like... tomorrow, after Lana announces the winner, and we all get on planes," sadness swells in your chest. "I'll board mine to New York, and... well, you'll get on a flight to-"

"Hey, hey." He stops you, his hands cupping your face as he pulls you close to him. You can feel your emotions bubbling inside you, threatening to bubble over with every tender brush of his thumb across your cheek. "I've been honest with you since we met, Y/N. Don't think that changes now," he kisses the crown of your head, and meets your gaze once more. "Especially, now." You offer a sad smile, shaking your head slightly.

"Lucien... I'm not saying I'm unwilling to try, but you know how often long-distance relationships actually work out, I-"

"Who said anything about distance?" His brows form a flat line on his forehead. You lean back an inch to look up at him, not quite understanding.

"Lucien-"

"Y/N, I'll move to New York with you." He says, then looks side to side. "I mean, if that's what you want, and it's not too invasive, I mean."

You shake your head, not quite believing your ears. "Lucien... I... you can't just, uproot your whole life, I mean," you stutter. "You... your real estate business, your job, I mean," He kisses your cheek.

"Sweetheart, do you know how big I could go with real estate in New York?" He chuckles, and you continue your wide-eyed gaze at him. "Besides, I already told you my family is from all-over. I don't have real 'roots' where I'm at now anyways." He shrugs as though the two of you were discussing flavors of cereal.

You swallow hard, thinking of this very big, very new change that was very quickly becoming your new reality. Lucien, moving all the way to New York to be with you. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you looked up at his grinning face once more.

"What if you don't like it there?" You ask, and he barks out a laugh. His hands snake around your waist, pulling you to sit as close as possible to him to the point where mere inches separeted the two of you.

"I'd be happy in any city, as long as you're there with me, sticky fingers." You loose the battle of holding back the tears, and they begin freefalling down your cheeks. He doesn't hesitate to wipe them away, gently running his fingers through your hair and pressing soft kisses atop your head while you work through your overwhelming emotion.

Wrapping your arms around him, you snuggle close, inhaling as much of him as you can. If you could, you'd stay like this forever -- luckily, you would rest easy knowing you'd leave Lana's retreat tomorrow with Lucien, not only as an official couple, but quite literally together. A simple helping hand and playful conversation is what led to this beautiful thing the two of you had created; and now, you had forever to look forward to.

"I love you," you whispered against his skin, as his arms only hugged you tighter.

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The group buzzed with anticipation the next morning as everyone sat in the cabana awaiting Lana's arrival. The rest of yesterday went off without a hitch -- everyone talked about their dates, many green lights were once again given, and the singles in the group were able to use their free time to get in one last day at the villa to do as they pleased.

This morning, though, the entire property was utter chaos; packing, running around, items being stuffed into suitcases, and so many emootional exchanges were all happening at once as the gravity of what was happening today seemed to finally settle on many of the group members.

Nonetheless, everyone was here now at the cabana. 11 a.m. sharp, just as Lana requested last night. No wake up call this morning, but you hadn't minded; what you thought would be your last night in a bed with Lucien turned out to be just another night. You could still remember the feeling of waking up this morning and imagining rolling over in your own bed, but finding him next to you instead of the empty sheets.

"Good morning, everyone." Lana greets, the cone appearing from beneath the fire pit.

"Good morning, Lana!" Everyone responds.

"Well, we have arrived at the final day of our retreat, haven't we?" She says, and a few girls make sad faces. "I always hate goodbyes -- but, I am pleased with how far many of you have come since you've arrived here a few short months ago. You've all done well, truly -- give yourselves a hand!"

The group claps, a few of the guys cheering before Lana lights up again.

"Alright, now let's settle. I know you've all got planes to catch." She pauses. "What always makes goodbyes a bit easier for me, is of course, a going-away gift, right?" She chuckles, and a few people agree.

"As you all know, I have a gift of my own -- my hefty little prize fund that I told you about all those months ago. Not so hefty now, but, still quite the chunk of change as it is $110,000." She earns a few cheers for this before she continues.

"Some seasons, I have guests vote for a winner -- other times, I choose one myself." She explains. "However, this go around, I've seen impeccable growth in two people who just so happen to be in an established relationship, and I'd like to award this prize to them both."

This certainly earns her some feedback. Luciens fingers squeeze your knee, and you look to him eagerly.

"So, without further adeu; this season, I'd like to give the Finale Prize to the couple..." she pauses, and everyone glances around to one another.

"... Lucien and Y/N!"

Immediately, you jump up, Lucien rising beside you as cheers erupt from the others. He scoops you in his arms, pulling you into a twirl as he hold you close to his chest. The entire group applauds, cheering louder as confetti and balloons are released above the cabana in celebration. When he finally sets you down, you stare up at him in excitement, your smile bright to mirror his own.

"We won it, baby!" He says, his hands holding you close aorund your waist.

"We won it!" You echo, and in that moment any and all rules are forgotten as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips melt against yours, his touch full of love and pure adoration for the woman he is with; and you couldn't help but feel as though everything, in that moment, was right in your little world.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. You can't help but smile, still reeling from everything happening around you.

"Let's go home, city girl." He says, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You rest your cheek against the white cotton of his shirt, the end of a strand of his hair tickling your cheek.

"Let's go home."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

5 Years Later

"Y/N, almost done in there?"

You huff, shoving the mascara wand back into the tube and pumping it a few times before yanking it back out again. You lean forward, mere inches from the mirror as you hold the end of the wand near your lashes.

"Yeeeah," you call out, so focused on coating every lash with the black makeup that you don't hear the soft knock on the door behind you. Let alone the telltale squeak of the hinge as it slowly opens.

"Sweetheart, Rhys texted me ten minutes ago saying they were pulling up-" Lucien's voice halts as he steps further into the small room, his eyes practically undressing you as you watch through the mirror.

"Sorry, I'm almost done-"

"Oh... no, take your time, baby." He steps close as you cap your makeup, pinning you to the counter from behind. You suck in a breath, meeting his hungry gaze through the glass as he hyperfixates on the low-cut neckline in the reflection.

"I'm happy to wait... riiiiight here." His hand slides along your waist, tracing every ridge and line of the skin-tight fabric. You smirk, the feeling of him pressed against you only growing harder. "This new?" He asks.

You smirk, watching his gaze dip lower. "You like it?"

He scoffs, pressing his chest to your back and bending you more over the counter. His breath is warm as it fans across the skin beneath your ear.

"I'd like it better, off." He growls, already playing with the little straps at your shoulders. "Gods, so pretty Y/N... always making me go crazy," he mumbles. You admit, the praise is nice, but -- you do have the Too Hot To Handle 5 Year Anniversary Dinner to get to.

"Fuck," he utters, kissing the top of your shoulder as his hands palm your ass. "You look so good..." He kisses the side of your neck, his hands grabbing at your waist. "Could just marry you right now."

You twist beneath him, turning to face him in an attempt to not get any more ideas. Chuckling, you hold up your left hand between the two of you.

"Eight months. Only eight more months, and then you can call me Mrs. Vanserra, alright?" The diamond glitters in the light, twinkling as he takes your fingers in his. He brings your knucles to his lips, kissing softly. Its only a moment before his eyes wander, shifting with the movement of every breath you take.

"Lucien -- dinner, remember?" You remind, but his eyes are glued to your cleavage. He shamelessly drags his hands up your sides, cupping your breasts in his palms and giving you a light squeeze before meeting your gaze again.

"I don't remember us having any plans, actually," he smirks, and you give him a knowing look. He drops his hands to your waist instead, effortlessly picking you up and sitting you on the counter so he can stand between your parted knees.

"Lucien, c'mon we're..." he leans in, his lips kissing along your collarbone softly.

"...so, so late." You gasp when he nips at the skin of your throat, his tongue rolling over the spot after. He's come to learn this is one of the things he can do to really get you going... and boy does he use it to his advantage.

That gasp turns into a full-on moan as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass through your dress, pressing your surely soaked panties to his strained cock through his pants. He makes his way up your neck, over your jaw, and to your lips before you begin moving involuntarily against him. Your mind wanders to the various times you'd been in this very bathroom the two of you had shared for years, all the ways he'd taken you on this very counter before.

Making you watch your reflection in the mirror as he pounded relentlessly into you from the back.

Kneeling before you as you held your knees apart, his tongue working your tight clit as you sat on the cool countertop.

Gods-

"Babe-" You pulled back, your eyes barely opening as he sucked in a breath of air before you. "Babe, we're so late, we really gotta go."

He sighs, leaning back further as your eyes widen. You can't help but giggle at the rosy red smudged across his lips and under his nose. He grimaces, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth.

"I might've messed up your lipstick a lil'," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a cute shade of pink. You grin, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before hopping off the counter and adjusting your dress.

"You can mess it up all you want... after, we go to dinner."

In minutes, he's lipstick-free and you're ready to walk out the door to meet your friends you hadn't seen for five years -- and boy could you not wait to catch up.

"Ready?" Lucien helps you into your coat, opening the front door of your shared high-rise and extending a hand to you. Peering at you is the same set of heterochrome irises you'd fallen for five years ago; the same set that belonged to the man you'd get to tell your friends tonight, you were set to marry.

"I'm ready."

･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[fishbloc]

*Dr. Eggman voice* I miss you, Fishbloc, I miss you a lot. I'll be back (but seriously, I do miss you and your art!! I hope you're doing well and take care! <3)

wait this is so sweet 🥺

for my absence, i've been offline as usual (no surprise there). i tried to watch a bit of wild life but i keep forgetting oops. mcyt is a bit on the backburner lately. i have been more inclined recently to engage in the characters within my own verses and worlds, and also with friends.

but truthfully most of my time lately has been spent trying to live life in a less miserable way 👍 trying to reconnect with my old friends, trying to spend more time with current online friends. its probably not as holy as it sounds, and a lot of days are still spent quite aimlessly.

i dont draw as much as i like, but i don't hate myself for it! and the few art i do these days are just for other fandoms that doesn't fit this blog in particular haha (i have so many sideblogs...) that's why it seems like ive gone too quiet here. i've always been into various video games even before mcyt so i've just kinda revisited them.

that doesn't mean my life still doesn't have its really depressing miserable days, it still does. but im actively working towards in trying to view my life differently, even if only for a little bit.

i've talked a lot to a few people on regarding whether or not i want to let go of fishbloc, but i think ultimately that will always be an indefinite decision because im so sentimental towards this account and the people i've come to meet from here. besides! i am working on a few personal projects (sorry they have no set schedule oops) and a zine! so fishbloc as a whole can't be abandoned just yet.

for what its worth, i think mcyt will always be a core part of my life now, and it always was a subject i like drawing about due to the creative freedom it gave me unlike other fandoms and media. i just hope no one forgets me as i kinda hibernate right now, i'm still here.

and seeing this really helps me feel better for the uncertain times in my life that are coming. <3

[sakashq]

Far. / bukayo saka x black!oc.

❤️‍🔥 summary: when two exes can’t keep their hands off each other, a third party jumps in and stops sedona from doing something stupid.

❤️‍🔥 warnings: toxic relationships, jude being an asshole (it had to be someone, i’m sorry ☹️)

❤️‍🔥 face claim: justine skye <3 but can be whoever you imagine!

❤️‍🔥 yap! yap! yap! umm this is kind of based on me! except theres no 3rd party, there was no cheating, but me and my ex just can’t leave each other alone💔. anyway, dedicated to @ar4ujos , @halfwayhearted , @planetpedri , &&. @szalovebot because they have to hear me talk about said ex 26/9…

I be drinking in private, don’t call me to party it up.

u up? Two simple words that meant so little but held so much. It was eleven at night and Sedona was far from sober, quite literally the worst time to be texting. Jude Bellingham just couldn’t let the flame die out, relighting the candle constantly.

It was annoying, how he couldn’t let go. It was just as annoying that she let him constantly walk over her. He didn’t really want her anymore, she was just someone he called when he had no one else. She could never leave him alone though, as much as she tried.

Fuck on your n**** for cardio.

All it was was mindless sex. She’d come over, stay thirty minutes or so, then leave. It was like their routine; he texted her on a random night, She came over, she left, and the cycle would start over again.

Took a dip and he fell in love right away.

It wasn’t always like that, though. He used to really love her. He loved her so much that it scared him. So Jude being Jude, he cheated on her in plain sight. He got caught on camera and it was everywhere on social media. The worst part? He didn’t even feel bad.

I put my feelings on lay away.

She didn’t leave him. Even after he publicly embarrassed her. Instead, he left her. How stupid was that?!

Done being used, done playing stupid. Done faking cool. (I don’t want none of that shit, I don’t want it.) Done being screwed, done faking clueless. That’s how you do.

She sighed, asking the bartender for another drink before putting her head in her hands. She had come out tonight with her friends but while they were dancing, Sedona had just stayed at the bar most of the night.

A guy next to her noticed her distress, looking over at her with concern. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with an English accent.

Sedona looked over at him, tears stinging in her eyes. She hated being asked this question; it always clicked something in her head and made her want to bawl. Instead, she blinked them away and responded to him. “Nothing, I just need another drink.”

He chuckled and said, “No offense, but it doesn’t look like you need anything else.” When Sedona just blinked at him, he continued on. “I’m sorry. But seriously, what’s up?”

She sighed and decided to just open up to him. It’s not like she’d ever see him again, right? “My ex-boyfriend, like, publicly cheated on me a few months ago and he keeps coming back for sex. And me being stupid, I keep going back.”

The guy frowned and thought about what to say for a second. “I don’t think you’re stupid. What do you mean he publicly cheated?”

Sedona didn’t want to give much away, but the guy seemed cool enough. He probably didn’t even know anything about football. “He’s like… famous. And when he was on a trip for his sport, he got caught kissing another girl.”

His face softened and he genuinely seemed upset for her. “I’m so sorry, I… I don’t even know what I’d do in that situation.”

“Yeah.”

“But, I mean, clearly you love him which is why you keep going back, no?”

That made her think. Was she really still in love with him after what he had done to her? Did she keep going back to Jude just because of her unresolved and unrequited feelings for him? “No, I don’t think so. I think I just like the validation.”

“Well, I think you don’t need that guy for validation. There’s always someone better waiting for you.” He smiled at her.

“I’m sorry for not introducing myself, I’m Sedona,” she beamed back.

“Bukayo.”

(I don’t want none of that shit, she got me runnin’ so-) Far, far like I don’t recognize me. Far, far ‘cause I let you define me. Far, far ‘cause I can’t trust nobody.

He stopped her from going to his place that night. Obviously Bukayo didn’t know that, but in a way he saved her. They talked up some more, him getting her a few waters to sober her up a bit. She learned that he was in fact a footballer and definitely knew Jude. He learned that she was a university student who was studying sports medicine.

Finally, the two were tired of being there and decided to retreat to their own homes.

“Are you sure you’ll get home safe?” Bukayo asked her.

Sedona sighed, replying, “Yeah, I’ll be alright.”

“I… Let me take you home. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

Far. Stay far, it’s so far.

He dropped her off at her dorm, even going as far as to walking her into the building and to the room. He got her number briefly, and hugged her goodbye.

“I’ll see you around,” Bukayo smiled at her. “Goodnight, Sedona.”

“Goodnight, Bukayo.”

[malka-lisitsa]

The quiet between them came as no surprise. Katherine is well aware Stefan is a man of few spoken words. Most are either thought or written.

She assumed he was in his head when he hadn't replied to most of what she was saying. She knows it wasn't ignored. No matter how much Stefan hates someone he isn't Damon. He doesn't have the ability to just turn off his hearing and ignore you. If you speak it reaches him- what he chooses to do with that however is the part that matters, whether or not he addresses it.

That actually was the surprise. That out of all of what she had said, that was what he had picked to ask her about.

what  girl  do  you  think  i  wish  you  were

It's a complex question. Not because she thinks she will get it wrong, but because she knows that she's right even if he doesn't see it.

"I watched you, for a lot longer once you returned to mystic falls than you think. I saw all or your arguments with Damon. How often you told him and Elena that she wasn't me and thats what you loved about her."

Katherine closed the car door and leaned against it, looking up at the sky to the cloud covered moon.

"You poured all your love for me into her because she's who you wanted me to be. A girl not capable of the things I've been forced to do to survive. Someone who could claim innocents and actually look like she could fit it." Even if she doesn't.

"You spoke about her compassion and my lack there of.... but mostly... Stefan shes... she's not as hard to love as me. She's not as damaged. She doesn't have five hundred years of baggage you have to sort through. Shes a soft simplistic white, while I am a rorschach test made with blood."

She was quiet for a moment before she spoke again.

"But may I remind you. That you fell in love with me because I challenged you. Because I wasn't like the other girls in town. Because I was crafty, intelligent, playful. None of those things you love about me were faked Stefan. I am still the girl that you claimed what you didn't know about me couldn't sway your love. If I remember right, you said it just meant more of me to love."

She remembers that night so vividly she can still feel his lips on hers.

Katherine pushed off the car and started walking towards the check in office. She figured it was self explanatory where she was going. He could follow, or he could wait for her to come back. She didn't care either way. She just wanted him to think about it.

his  mind  swam  with  a  million  different  thoughts,  trying  to  circle  them  all,  round  them  up  in  some  way  that  made  sense  but  it  didn't  seem  to  -  he  wanted  to  be  a  BETTER  kind  of  good,  some  unobtainable  version  of  himself  because  the  alternate  was  the  thing  that  was  despised.  a  monster  or  some  false  goodness  that  he'd  created  for  himself  to  be,  a  box  to  try  to  form  himself  to  fit  into  yet  fell  out  of  with  the  smallest  cause.  it  caused  stefan  to  massage  his  temples  lightly,  wanting  there  to  be  some  SILENCE  in  the  endless  stream  of  it  all.

the  sound  of  bed  was  almost  like  a  relief,  cut  through  the  NOISE  of  his  own  inner  workings  and  brought  him  back  into  the  moment,  following  where  katherine's  eyes  had  been  to  the  sign  indicating  the  turn  off  that  would  bring  them  to  a  place  for  the  night.  he  could  practically  hear  his  brother  now,  the  idea  of  katherine  and  he  spending  the  night  somewhere  in  some  motel  off  some  road  -  why  did  it  matter  what  damon  thought  ?? when  the  car  finally  came  to  a  stop  there  was  some  relief,  lowering  his  feet  back  down  to  solid  ground  with  the  fresh  air  hitting  his  face,  making  the  exhaustion  in  his  eyes  all  the  more  apparent,  forced  to  blink  away  the  BURN  he  felt  there  before  he  turned  to  face  katherine. ❛   what  girl  do  you  think  i  wish  you  were  ??   ❜   he  asked,  as  if  the  words  had  only  just  registered  in  his  mind,  it  wasn't  the  case  -  he  listened,  only  let  it  brew  amongst  everything  else.

[thebutchprinxe]

someone please tell me everything’s gonna be ok

[donaviolet]

Friendship is the most special thing in the world because no award could be give me bigger happiness than jumping around in my room and smiling because my pookie asked me if I wanted to match pfps

[bonestrouslingbones]

for how hyperfixated i am on undertale aus i am so so severely out of the loop for pretty much anything outside of my own business rn but i guess the creator of underv/erse like. resigned from the fandom or something and i'm just lookin at their twitter post and seeing very outspoken undertale twitter-only mutuals saying they're gonna miss em like. damn folks really did just decide that misgendering is ok i guess

[mylifesascarymovie]

@ofdetectiveseeking

{My eyes shifted into a roll as I heard his quippy response} I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Something told me I wouldn't make it far though, so I was lying here mulling over a smarter escape plan. {I shared honestly. Either way though, I knew me leaving via the hospital room door wasn't an option since I had police guarding the door. Among them, I guessed Mark was waiting out there too since he was likely anticipating my escape. He'd no doubt scold me as he promptly escorted me back here to the hospital bed, so it would be a waste of energy, as far as I could see} I'm surprised you're still here. I figured you would have left by now. {I didn't actually think that. In my gut, I had a feeling he wouldn't be far from me because in spite of his anger toward me, he still wanted to protect me. He loved me, so my assumption made sense. Then again, considering how he left here, I wondered if any hope I had that he might still love me was long gone. Glad to know I was wrong in that fear} For the record, I'm glad you're still here... That means even though you hate me currently, a part of you might still care, all at the same time. {I was taking a risk here. Mark was angry, but the thing was, if we couldn't be ourselves around each other, there really would be zero hope for us; now or down the line either} Or you just missed the Ghost Face drama so much that you're itching to find and stop him. {That part I meant more in a playful way. Not that Ghost Face was a joking manner, by any means, but what I meant by that was more so along the lines of irony, because nobody would miss the Ghost Face drama. Flashing Mark an amused grin so he knew I had been kidding at that last statement} Do you think it will ever stop? The Ghost Face drama? I'm starting to think we'll never have normalcy in our lives because another psycho will come along and pick up the mantle. {My head shaking in obvious frustration. I guess just trying to have a normal, honest conversation with Mark now about how I felt over the fact that my life was a never-ending scary movie... Or at least that's how it felt}

@ofdetectiveseeking

{My life... It was like its own live action horror movie. For awhile, each year it was a new form of horror. First my mother's death, then on the one-year anniversary of my mother's death, my psychotic boyfriend Billy and his demented best friend, Stu went on a murdering spree through the town of Woodsboro; intending to tie off their Ghost Face killing spree by slaying me and pinning it all on my father. For their parts, they came close to pulling off their plan. Fortunately for me and my father both, Gale Weathers stepped up and saved the day. Gratitude toward Gale Weathers was honestly not something I ever thought I would be expressing, since I recall once saying we'd all be better off without Gale Weathers in our lives, but at that moment, I was relieved to be proven wrong. Just when I thought my life could go back to normal, or at least some semblance of normalcy, I should say, I went off to college; only to be haunted by a new Ghost Face... A few years later there was another killer. It was like a never ending cycle of Ghost Face horror. Long story short, I had nearly given up on having a normal life altogether. I even gave dating another chance... Something I had avoided after my first boyfriend turned out to be a murdering psychopath, and then the next boyfriend was murdered by a new Ghost Face; leaving me to the unsettling realization that anyone who comes into my life is destined for death. I couldn't put anyone else through that, so although I did date Mark briefly after my half brother was unmasked as the last Ghost Face, I couldn't get past the risk I knew I would be putting on him, simply by him being in my life, so I ultimately ended it, moved away, and focused on making a life for myself that kept the people I loved at a safe distance from me. Again though, and just like everything else in my life, that goal also didn't go as planned. Well, it did for several years... Long enough for me to write a book, get it published, and ultimately bringing it to the present where I was starting my book tour. No surprise, the tour began in Woodsboro, which made sense, given my book was based on my horror story of a life, but the thought of returning to Woodsboro literally made me sick inside. For good reason, it would seem, since I no sooner returned to Woodsboro to start the tour, when the new string of murders started happening. The new Ghost Face was just as predictable as the last. Go after people I care about first, to eventually get to me when they believed I was at my weakest point. They went for my aunt and cousin first, but that plan got foiled when I stopped them. Grant it, they stabbed me and then pushed me out of a second-story window, but the good news was, my aunt and cousin were safe, for now. In normal Ghost Face fashion, they managed to get away before Dewey and the police arrived on scene, but at least Ghost Face was stopped before they could murder someone else I cared about. I thought to myself as I laid in pain on the ground; feeling lightness in my head from the combination of pain and the loss of blood. Not my first stabbing or injury though, so I knew the sooner the hospital patches me up and doses me with some pain meds, I'd get back here to join Dewey and Gale on the quest to unmask the newest installment of Ghost Face. Moments passing as Dewey and Gale came into view to help me, and then the EMT's rushing over shortly thereafter to assess the severity of my injuries. As they worked on me in preparation for transport to the hospital, I found myself more determined than ever to figure out who the new Ghost Face is} "Don't worry, Sid. We'll find him." {Dewey said as he gave my hand a squeeze just before the EMT's loaded me into the ambulance; knowing the sooner I get in and out of the hospital, the sooner we could stop this asshole. I just hoped it was before Ghost Face could hurt or kill anyone else}

[our-lady-of-mcr]

everytime i think im done ranting i remember something else LMFAO this one is extra long i hit tag limit god mf damn