#it really would be super cool if you followed
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
1. Rick for sure, I like everyone in the family tho ! My favorite specific Rick's are Toxic(because he's awful and very very short sighted, idk i just think he's interesting in a sopping wet pathetic way.) and Flesh Curtains era(because let's be real how am I going to look at a 30 something grungey drunk and not be obsessed. thats like, some of my favorite people irl.)
2. I don't think it matters! Probably space beth, but eh đ¤ˇââď¸
3. No not canonically. I think it'd be really fun tho and I like all the theories. Ricks do mess around tho, hes a horndog and the citadel exists, a huge conglomeration of Him, i think it happens more often then it seems to.
4. Tilda. I will not elaborate.
5. Errh idk! A lot i guess. Theyve said before they want the like, classic adult cartoon run time(think futurama, family guy, simpsons), so as many seasons as humanly possible if the writers get their way. I think they step on their own toes a little since they seem to toggle between wanting to be an episodic sitcom, but ALSO a serial scifi thriller. I dont think theyve done badly in that regard so far, but theres absolutely aspects of both that are suffering because of the other's presence.(plot inconsistencies n that kinda thing.)
6. Smash, it would be a bad decision for both of us, but itd be fun !
7. Does the galactic federation count? Probably not since its an organization, but for sure that one. Super interesting stuff u can do with space bureaucracy(bc im boring) and state-sponsored violence. But as for an individual, I really really like Beths mytholog, that whole concept is really cool, and her design is hella badass lol. Also i guess Toxic Rick is a villain too !
8. oof I've tried to figure this out and i dont think i can narrow it down, but i really like Rattlestar Ricklactica, Vat of Acid, and a Rickle in Time.
9. uhh idk the one with the giant incest baby? I didn't enjoy Story Train either tbh. I don't think any of the episodes are like, unwatchably bad, but theres absolutely a few I skip when i rewatch the show.
10. I don't care about story lord like, at all. hes just. deeply uninteresting. Not a huge fan of Mr. Poopybutthole, but i think i just thought we were reminded of him too often.(i liked the intervention episode well enough tho)
11. Oh man this is hard to answer cuz hes just done So Much. Like, guys a shithead. The reckless disregard for innocent bystanders is pretty bad. I think it sucks when he orchestrates situations in which morty has to lethally defend himself, and then totally disregards his feelings(which is literally all the time lmfao). like, the kids 14. His casual manipulation of Beth is super fucked, cuz he knows how much he means to her and he exploits that. yeah idk, guys just a pos all around lol
12. Dated question, luckily no! I think the new voice actors are great :3
13. All the rnm blogs i follow are badass as hell. idk how to pick ill prob edit this l8r
14. Can I say rick without sounding like a total loser. mentally ill, substance abuse issues, ruled entirely by emotions, hedonistic while paradoxically engaging in self-harm/hatred. nihilistic(silly flavor). freaked out by commitment/attachment. the party friend(as opposed to someone you invite for brunch or to meet ur parents). also science is cool.
15. the entire "...couldn't let a dead snake be dead even after it bit his ankle, next time stay in the fucking car!" monologue. and the "a vat of fake acid are you Dying of Dementia?!" fight.
16. i havent finished my brackets yet ill get back to you.
17. same as above.
18. man idk probably. i dont actually watch it in a way that supports them(financially) anyway, but that would suck balls cuz its a fixation of mine.
19. done to death probably but mortys "come watch tv?" quote is my fave. it reads to me as incredibly reassuring. optimistic nihilism. like, "nothing means anything, nothings a big deal, lets chill and enjoy it while we can." ya know? like dying is the same as before you were born, and Everyones gonna do it, but we're here together right now, so lets eat pasta and get a little drunk.
20. i know hes doing his own thing but can i be snowball. hes cool and empathetic and capable of growth, also i wanna see how the dog utopia is going.
20 SHORT-ANSWER* RICK AND MORTY QUESTIONS FOR YOU:
*You can write long answers, if you'd like! Feel free to skip questions, too!
Who is your favourite Rick and Morty Character?
Which Beth is the clone: Domestic Beth or Space Beth?
Do you think that Rick-C137 and Rick Prime were previously romantically involved?
What do you think would be a good name for Birdperson and Tammy's daughter?
How many seasons do you think Rick and Morty will eventually have?
Rick C-137: smash or pass?
Who is your favourite Rick and Morty villain?
Your favourite Rick and Morty episode?
Your least favourite Rick and Morty episode?
Who is your least favourite Rick and Morty character?
What is, in your opinion, the worst thing that Rick C-137 has ever done?
Do you think that Rick and Morty will be affected substantially by having to change the voice actor for Rick and Morty and a bunch of other characters?
What's a good Rick and Morty blog?
Who is the Rick and Morty character that you relate to the most?
The funniest Rick and Morty bit/scene, in your opinion?
Best Rick and Morty season?
Worst Rick and Morty season?
Would you stop watching the show if Justin Roiland returned?
Your favourite Rick and Morty quote?
If you had to be one member of the smith family in the next season, who would you want to be?
167 notes
¡
View notes
Text
My girl.
- Nicholas chavez x y/n
-mention (not really) of fingering đŤŁ
~~~~~~~~~~
Nicholas đą: coop can I come over? I donât feel like driving all the way home đ
Cooper đą: oh yea of course!! Guest room is all clean đ¤
Nicholas đą: youâre a god send!
~~~~~
Nicholas smiled as he pulled into coopers driveway carefully parking so he wouldnât block cooper in. He made no note of the strange car as he made his way to the front door unlocking it with the spare. He sighed in relief from the warmth and it smelled really really good. Like someone was cooking. But he knew cooper couldnât cook to save his life. So he slowly made his way to the kitchen jaw dropping as he saw you. Tight baby blue shorts and an even tighter crop top. He could only see your back side but he just knew you were beautiful.
When you heard someone come closer to you, you whipped around knife in your hand. âWho the hell are you?!â Nicholas yelped throwing his hands up in defense. âN-Nicholas.â Even close to pissing himself he thought you were the most beautiful girl heâs ever seen. âWoah youâre beautifulâŚâ you smiled widely, putting the knife down immediately. âAweee thank you! Want some soup?â It was nearly freezing outside, perfect weather for homemade soup. âGod yes please.â
You nodded and poured three bowls setting them at the dinner table taking your usual spot. Nicholas took the spot across from you. âSo⌠how do you know cooper?â You smiled around a spoonful. âWeâve been friends since kindergarten.â Nicholasâ eyes widened. âHow come Iâve never heard about you?â Just then cooper came out of his room only in shorts. âCause I knew you would hit on her. And sheâs my little sister basically. So she is off limits.â Cooper missed your pout but Nicholas caught it. âCooperrrrr⌠donât be like they. I-â cooper put his hand up stopping Nicholas. âDid you even ask her name when you came in?â Nicholas sighed. He got him there. âNoâŚâ cooper smiled in satisfaction. âLet me guess she had a weapon on you and you called her pretty?â âBeautiful.â âBeautiful.â You both smiled at each other. âJinx.â Cooper sighed massaging his temples. âOff limits Nicholas.â âFine fine.â
But you saw that look in his eye. A glimmer of mischief that had your stomach flipping.
~~~~~~~~~
The next morning cooper had to leave for an audition. And you were left with Nicholas. Once you were sure cooper was long gone you giggled and padded over to the guest room knocking.
âCome in!â Honestly Nicholas was expecting cooper coming to say goodbye but he smiled widely when he saw it was you. You couldnât help but coo at him. His hair was disheveled from sleep and his face a little puffy and red. âDo you care to know my name?â His face got even darker realizing he never asked. âI would honey.â You couldnât help but blush at the pet name.
âY/n.â
âPretty name for a pretty girl.â
You smiled even wider. âThank you Nicholas. So how do you know cooper?â You came and sat on the bed. âMmm well we worked on a project together and weâve been friends ever since. But I hear you take the cake. Little sister.â He had a goofy smirk on his face. âYep thatâs me. Lil sis. So you just visiting or?â âWhy you want me to stay?â You jokingly rolled your eyes making him chuckle. âI was just super tired after work and I live far and cooper was closer. I usually do this a lot.â
âSo Iâll be seeing you more often?â You internally cringed hearing how desperate you sounded. Play it cool. âJust wondering of course.â Nicholas smirked. âYea you will. I hope to be seeing more of you.â You couldnât help but smile at that. âIs that so? Iâm usually here like every weekend. Itâs like our tradition.â
âMmm Iâll be sure to be extra tired on the weekends then.â
âDonât let cooper catch on. Iâm off limits pretty boy.â He smiled as you got up to go make breakfast. Your shorts had ridden up showing off your delicious curves. You could feel his eyes on them too. And it only took him about ten seconds to follow you to the kitchen. âWow ten seconds. Thatâs a record.â Nicholas let out a soft chuckle, his cheeks heating up. âDidnât want you to be alone⌠someone could break in.â
You smirked as you got out everything to make breakfast. âI think Iâll be fine. Had a knife to your throat in five seconds.â Nicholas smiled. âYes thatâs true⌠so whatâs on the menu?â
âMmmm⌠meat lovers omelette. Ham, bacon and sausage with cheese and bell peppers.â Honestly Nick was ready to get on one knee right then and there. A girl who could cook was his weakness. Plus you were gorgeous. Double trouble. âGod that sounds amazing. Might have to hire you or marry you.â You let out a chuckle as you cut up the fresh bell peppers and sausage. âWoah there cowboy. You just learned my name.â But honestly the thought of marriage was nice⌠he put his hands up in defense. âMy apologies honey. But seriously when did you learn to cook?â âMy mama taught me. You know I have a cookbook too.â âWait for real? Thatâs so cool!â
As you continued to cook Nicholas went and bought about five books from the website. âSo like whatâs your favorite thing to cook?â âMmm I would say itâs a tie between pasta and surf and turf. Itâs usually shrimp and steak or steak and lobster.â Oh Nick was already thinking about marriage. Yes he could cook for himself but itâs probably not as good as you could. âGod that also sounds amazing.â You smiled and rolled your eyes plating the omelettes, placing nicks in front of him. âThank you.â âNo problem. Want anything to drink?â You were already pouring yourself down apple juice. âIâll just take apple juice as well.â
You brought over the two glasses before digging in. You let out a chuckle as he groaned after the first bite. And it was an innocent thing but he sounded good. You were in trouble. âGood?â âGood doesnât even begin to describe it.â There it is⌠he talks with his mouth full just like cooper. You took a spray bottle squirting him. âHeyyyy!â âFinish your food before you talk. You and cooper both do that. Itâs unbecoming.â He quickly swallowed before wiping the water off his face. âSorryâŚâ âpretty boys always have a flaw. Itâs funny how you and cooper have the same one.â He blushed a dark red. Whether from the compliment or embarrassment you didnât know. âIs it the same thing with pretty girls?â âOh absolutely. I have short term memory.â âHmmm⌠interesting. So like no snoring or not chewing? Just bad memory.â You nodded taking your last bite. âAnd I guess I eat too fast.â Comparing your empty plate to his half full one⌠âyeaâŚâ
âWow⌠Iâve always met girls who eat so slow like a bird.â You chuckled. âOh never. I always finish my food. Why I look like I do.â âMmm well donât ever stop eating.â âSir yes sir.â
Later that day you and Nicholas were cuddling on the couch watching a movie when cooper came in and suddenly Nicholas was like a wet dog. âGet off of her Nick!! What did I say??â You couldnât help but laugh at his pout. âCooperrrrr!! We were just watching a movie!â âYea thatâs how it always starts.â âCooper itâs okay. We really were just watching a movie. No hidden motives. Plus itâs cold and you have the thermostat locked.â âYea she was shivering!! I was just being a good friend.â Cooper glared at him. âSure whatever.â âCoopy⌠come on. I made your favorite lasagna. Even kept the burned cheese corners for you.â With that all anger melted away. âGod I love you.â He gave your head a kiss before heading into the kitchen warming up his plate. You turned to Nicholas smirking. Thank god yall werenât on the other couch where cooper had a clear view. He would have a heart attack. âGo wash your hands heâs gonna probably sit with us.â He whispered softly to Nick who immediately went to the bathroom. âI saved some cheese in the bag if you want more.â Cooper had already dumped the rest on his slice before coming over. He sat next to you to be the middleman. âThank you. What are yall watching?â âFamily guy. Itâs both our favorite show.â Nick came back from the bathroom with different pants, much looser ones as he couldnât take care of his problem fast enough to not raise suspicion. He held back his grumbles of coopers seat and took the other couch. âHow were auditions?â You had the back up water bottle pointed at cooper. âSwallow.â âHah thatâs what he said.â You sprayed Nicholas glaring softly making cooper chuckle. âIt was great honestly. Think I did really well.â
âYou always do cooper. Iâm sure youâre gonna get it.â
Nicholas was pouting at you. He didnât understand why he was jealous of his friend. Knowing he had a husband. âI have an audition tooâŚâ both you and cooper burst into laughter. âIâm sure youâll do well too Nicholas.â Nicholas smiled widely. You couldnât help but think that this was the start of something special. You know cooper would soon accept it⌠hopefully,
~~~~~~
Blah blah blah proper name backstory proper place
This is a little how they met between Nicholas and y/n from the Instagram post đââď¸
#nicholas x reader#nicholas chavez x y/n#nicholas chavez au#nicholas chavez fluff#nicholas chavez x black reader#black y/n#black reader#nicholas chavez imagine#nicholas chavez smut#nicholas chavez x reader#nicholas alexander chavez#nicholas chavez#cooper koch fanfic#cooper koch
61 notes
¡
View notes
Text
New Instagram! Just made it to dump my art on :) both jjk related and not (hopefully)
It would be super cool and awesome and dope if you go check it out â¤ď¸â¤ď¸
My @ is hazel_islivingtrash
Also I'm stupid it's supposed to say find not refund đđ đ
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#satosugu#small artist#artist#Instagram#art instagram#my instagram#new instagram#jjk art#anime art#fan art#fan artist#it really would be super cool if you followed
9 notes
¡
View notes
Text
thisss a million times this! The thing that people forget about the secret soulmates ordeal is that Grian chose BigB, but he did not choose to be paired with Scar. He made it clear from the beginning how he didnât want to be with Scar. (Interjection: this is all c!s, and not hating on scarian also a valid ship just me rambling about how I like to interpret it and also itâs very grammatically incorrect and probably pretty repetitive because I didnât really read through it lol) He was forced to team with him by their shared health, but the term âcheatingâ implies that Grian chose to be with Scar and then later went back on that. Secret Soulmates, meanwhile, was purely for Grianâs emotional benefit. They gave each other hearts and cookies and there was nothing in particular about the two of them that screamed alliance made for practical reasons. They were just kind of keeping each other company, BigB needing it because his soulmate was away so often that the guy had joined a singles support group, and Grian needing it because well if I write all my thoughts on why in this one sentence itâll go on forever. Even from third life, Grian shows bias toward Bigb, commenting that if it comes down to it he doesnât think heâll be able to kill him even though Bigb is on the opposite side.
But back to my point about why I think Grian is lonely: in double life, Scar behaves with Grian the same way that he behaves with him in third life, where he was reckless and Grian just had to go along with whatever scar said because he was indebted. This in contrast to double life, where the soul bound puts each partner on equal standing, but Scar, probably without realizing, takes the lead, but Grian is no longer content to follow. Scar takes for granted that Grian will always follow him, hence the reason he seems more inclined towards petty vengeance than actual anger or even worry when he finds out about BigB. He is confident that Grian will always come back to him, which, when Grian doesnât want to, makes things. Complicated. Really, he builds himself a panda reserve, Grian made it very clear that heâs not super fond of the pandas, but Scar is operating on how he knew Grian in third life, before Grian joined the south lands where equality (sometimes rather than equity even when thats not really good, but thatâs it whole own shebang) was like their whole shtick, so he thinks that everything he builds for him is for both of them, because in the past he was in charge and had to take the lead. So Grian seeks out someone he wanted from the beginning of both that season and of the series who is, as prev stated, very calm. Scar wanders off to go do something dangerous expecting Grian to follow because thatâs what he would have done in third life, but Grian is like okay, you go do that, and goes over to go do arts nâ crafts with BigB. BigB, also, has been constantly on the outside of groups and rarely having an alliance of his own because other people find him creepy or scary or unnerving, which is something he encourages, and even seems to enjoy, but Grian is usually the only one to not be scared off by BigBâs bigbness, like in secret life when he was like this base is scary but itâs also cool, hey is that your initial in the roof and he is literally the only one to notice that and Bigb is just so excited that someone noticed something about his base that wasnât hey this place is terrifying. They just genuinely enjoy each other company. They can just be silly and definitely not bossy together and have fun! They, for all their fanon characterization, and actually probably one of the healthiest c!relationships in the whole series, because they actually like each other, chose each others company out of their own free will and for no other reason than their affection for the other, and are not toxicly codependent. Idk this is a pretty long and probably incoherent ramble, but I felt compelled because please for the love of all that is sculk someone put some biggri on ao3 that is literally anything other than cheating in scarian angst fics. Thank you prev for reminding me how much I love this pairing.
I know that Grian said âBigb treated me rightâ just to get a rise out of Scar but I feel like this is a good opportunity to talk about how much (in my opinion) Grian and Bigb as a pairing are slept on
They both have this chaotic energy that feels complimentary, Grianâs pesky bird-ness and BigBâs whimsy. They both have this quiet rebellion or discontent against the games. BigB knows that itâs all for nothing and doesnât play into the Watchersâ emotional manipulation, whereas Grian (up until wild life) tries to escape and fight the Watchersâ hold on him.
I feel like BigBâs calm energy is a sigh of relief for Grian. That he can trust someone, and be trusted, without it being another game. That he doesnât need to constantly worry about survival, and can just enjoy existing. They just want to frolic in a meadow and have a nice picnic your honor
I feel like thereâs so much more to this pairing beyond the secret soulmates thing and that their chemistry is actually reall nice! And have a lot of potential for AUs and fanfics!
75 notes
¡
View notes
Text
A L L A B O U T J !!
hi hi lovely friends !! names are jupiter or james, but nicknames are really appreciated !! ( jupi, jamie, j, etc . )
i'm a minor , they / him / hers pronouns , capricorn sun virgo moon aries rising (ik ik) , french / norwegian , infp im pretty sure , introverted , birthday's on january 5th !! , actually evan rosier , witch , christian , slytherclaw , children of poseidon legacy of thanatos , nonhuman
faves !!
music : ichiko aoba ; lamp ; tv girl ; the smiths ; radiohead ; current joys ; ethel cain ; chet baker ; berlioz ; frank sinatra ; ella fitzgerald ; laufey ; beabadoobee ; deftones ; odetari ; korn ; slipknot ; limp bizkit ; faye webster ; clairo ; mazzy star ; lana del rey ; mac demarco ; alex g ; strawberry guy ; duster ; liana flores ; her's ; weezer ; gorillaz ; rammstein ; sum 41 ; weyes blood ; vendredi sur mer ; sza ; queen ; nirvana ; mother mother ; vashti bunyan ; tyler the creator ; conan gray ; steve lacy ; t.rex ; fleetwood mac ; chappell roan ; vacations ; david bowie ; siouxsie and the banshees ; strawberry switchblade ; the velvet underground ; slowdive ; cocteau twins ; the cranberries ; the smashing pumpkins ; cigarettes after sex ; beach house ; pinkpantheress ; crystal castles ; men i trust ; abba ; macabre plaza ; molchat doma
composers : piotr ilich tchaikovski , maurice ravel , gabriel faurĂŠ , claude debussy , antonio vivaldi , sergeĂŻ rachmaninov , franz liszt , frĂŠdĂŠric chopin , wolfgang amadeus mozart , camille saint-saĂŤns , piero piccioni ; eric satie i
i mostly listen generally to classical , jazz , (neo) soul , r&b , indie pop / rock , heavy metal (nu , thrash , black , death , metalcore ) , hip-hop ,
NOT DONEđđ¤gimme a min
blinkies and userboxes!!
#intro post#can you. guys believe it#jupiter james sleepinginmygrave on tumblr dot com. has an intro post#CAN YOU BELIEVE IT#yes i know it's not finished i would have let this rot in my drafts for way longer if i didn't had like 200 followers#like uh.#i could not stay in this situation#please do not judge my shitty moodboards please i had to do with what's in my gallery because i have a problem with my wifi#oh my god#i'm super super embarassed to post this#but i have to#well#at least you guys will have some info about me until i make something pretty...#this is taking me SO MUCH ENERGY#dont know how you guys can do such pretty and cool intro posts effortlessly#like#how#ANYWAY#haha#moi#GOLLY#am i really gonna post this#yeah#well shit#Spotify
116 notes
¡
View notes
Text
No one ever talks about hemiplegic migraines and how much they suck and ESPECIALLY no one ever talks about how much your head hurts THE NEXT DAY king my head felt FINE when I went to bed let me LIVE
#anyways hi my migraines get so bad half my body goes numb and every time i move my head too fast the next day it throbs#best way i can describe the day after headace is like. if you've ever had covid and you got that really bad headache???#and like every time you'd move your head you'd have to like wait for a second cause it was fucking THROBBING??#that's the day after headache i usually get sometimes it isn't THAT bad but sometimes it is#and i guess hemiplegic migraine is like#what if you have Migraine boss mode and it felt like someone swung a baseball bat at your head so hard you were experiencing stroke symptom#teehee! â¤ď¸#i am NOT exaggerating one time i made the mistake of trying to sleep off a hemiplegic migraine after playing animal crossing at like 4am#cause screen bad for migraine but ot already sucks so i can be miserable or miserable a d playing animal crossing lmfao cnxncnxncnddf#and ANYWAYS i had a nightmare timmy and tommy were beating my head in with a baseball bat lmfao like you cannot sleep that shit off#it will follow you and it will hurt!#Anyway here is Mimi's super cool guide to a hemiplegic migraine: Take more ibuprofen that is comfortable (my max is 4)#drink a LOT of water cause hydration helps with migraines. lay down in a dark room and throw on a video essay you can half pay attention to#you aren't gonna be able to fall asleep but close your eyes and just focus on that. ALSO icepack. you're gonna be here for a while#anyways i would like to switch up my pain meds when having one cause. ibuprofen isn't good for your stomach! but idk how much to take#so i am stuck in limbo until i figure that out i caught yesterday's too late and that's why my head hurts today
2 notes
¡
View notes
Text
nate and trent during s3/post-canon has got to be like. a hilarious dynamic. not to mention nate returning to richmond and like. trent crimm is also here. they're like yeah he's our emotional support biographer now. yeah he's been around all season. we like him now. they make the world's most awkward eye contact before both immediately fleeing in opposite directions.
#actually i think they would get along i would like to see it#but also how do you reconcile you both did something you super regret to hurt someone you both care about a lot? and like#how exactly that happened? how trent quit about it and also BURNED NATE AS A SOURCE? how nate was the one who made the situation?#etc etc etc. but like also i dont think. like.#i get fanon of trent being all protective or whatever but i like to think he's taken enough cues from ted that he's also just like.#i get it. hurt people hurt people. and nates like what you dont hate me? you LSOT YOUR JOB but like#no. trent doesnt hate him. how could he#also this is made ten thousand times funnier in a tedependent fix it fic because nate comes back full of regret and crying and like#trent crimm--who WROTE AND PUBLISHED THE ARTICLE HE FEELS SO BAD ABOUT--is just. Also There.#vibing. everyone likes him now. how the hell--#and then when nates like [trying and failing to be casual] hey so um. why is. why is trent crimm here?#he gets the following answers:#a) he's writing a book about us! b) he's writing a book about ted! c) we think he and ted might be kissing. unclear#nate comes back to richmond and teds like oh trent? yeah hes my bf <333 and nates like hes your WHAT#also see: nate is a really sweet dorky and kinda anxious person and now hes kinda back there at this point except#hopefully with more self confidence and ability to stand up for himself#versus trent who always seemed so confident and cool. now letting himself be a sweet dork at the cost of being less confident/firm#like. i just think they'd be neat is all#let them bond over being dorks actually
14 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Iâm sitting here working away at yet another Silmarillion/Emperorâs New Groove bit of silliness that I will soon inflict on you all, and just have to say Iâve noticed some reactions to them being like âfunny but this wouldnât happenâ and like
Yes!! I know! :D
These ideas are super silly, and they pop into my head, and when they wonât leave I draw them because I have to get them out of me somehow. My art is primarily for my own enjoyment; if it resonates with someone else or makes other people laugh, all the better!! I try to have them as lore and timeline compliant as possible because thatâs just how my brain works, and they are built up from a foundation of headcanons that I, personally, in my own readings of the story and my own fanfic writing, hold fast as my canon, but they are absolutely hyperbole. Comedy. Goofy things that make me smile to draw after a long work day. Theyâre not meant to be taken seriously! XD
(this is not about the people commenting with additional lore, text refs, adding their own headcanons or dialogue -- which have been delightful to read!! -- or making me aware of alternate versions of the text, which I always appreciate!)Â
Itâs only happened a couple of times and I canât even remember who or on which ones but I felt like I should make a psa that YES. I AM AWARE.
That is all :)
#again it's only happened a couple of times#just one-off comments with no follow up or anything#but it kinda has the same vibe as the 'i don't like this ship but nice art'#or the 'cool oc design they remind me of [insert other character here]'#ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ#idk it's just had me super confused because. obviously this wouldn't happen in canon?? i never said it would?#i'm not really bothered honestly just. very very confused#comedy in general is like. not canon for this particular work of fiction lmao. there is no comedy only fire murder and shiny stones#ANYWAY#i've also noticed i've made a bunch of you laugh with my silly thoughts and that makes me happy!! :)#i also really love when people take my headcanons and go further with them; i always enjoy seeing your guys' reactions#and thoughts in my tags!!
3 notes
¡
View notes
Text
why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.
#freya talks aai2#my goals of not being a forgotten/forsaken hater are not going well. he goes from 'kay is a dear ACQUAINTANCE' to 'i've not known her for#very long but i know she'd never kill anyone' to 'you are the kay i know so well' in the span of a few hours and it's like.#okay so you know it was too early in their acquaintanceship for this to really make sense but you still wanted a 'deep' and 'meaningful'#relationship to take the lead in this plotline. his sister is literally right there. it wouldnt have been hard to swap her in either because#she's literally investigating the smuggling situation. it would make perfect sense for her to be there following a lead instead of suddenly#revealing kay's promise notebook went missing. im not saying that the super-gentle super-meek persona would have made more sense with#franziska but honestly it wouldnt have made sense with any of them because it's more a caricature of a character rather than being an actual#previously unseen facet of one but you could've done so many more interesting things with franziska! she has an actual personal stake in#edgeworth's decision to continue as a prosecutor or not and we could get actual insight into how her own relationship with prosecuting and#its inextricable link to her father has affected her as a person. like when you show amnesiac kay the prosector badge all she says is that#it feels heroic warm and familiar like someone she knew used to show it to her often. and like cool. it's basically telling us she and her#father were close. which we already knew. imagine if franziska had said something like that or had had a more complex reaction. there would#be so many avenues to go with that!! you'd even be able to delve deeper into what edgeworth thinks about it all. like what if franziska was#just. happier. without her memories. then you'd have a story where edgeworth has to reckon with whether it might be kinder to let her live a#different life where she's unburdened by literally everything she's been made to go through and give her the same opportunity of starting#over that he now has.#im just writing fanfiction at this point but like. the amnesia plot is so frustrating to me HAHA they dont even do anything interesting with#it!! it's just oh she's lost her memories and we need to get them back because she's not 'herself' anymore without any discussion of like.#the nature of identity or living as who other people know you as vs whoever you might actually be#WHEN THE WHOLE CASE IS ABOUT EDGEWORTH DECIDING ON HIS PATH FORWARDS AND GRAPPLING WITH BEING THE PROSECUTOR EVERYONE HAS KNOWN HIM AS#whatever. WHATEVER.#annotations#some people might argue so it's not rehashing old conflict between franziska and edgeworth and like ok. she literally repeats her 'are you#running away from me again' line during this case. does that sound like the words of resolved conflict?#i know WHY they use kay. it's because they need to justify her place in this game and because they want to play on the pseudo father-figure#thing they played up in aai2 to contribute to the overall themes of fatherhood this game is dealing with. and to that i have to say that i#might just not be the audience for it because i've never bought that version of their relationship and i dont think kay should be in aai2#anyway. plus i posit that franziska would've still worked for that theme because. literally everything. about her.
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.
It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.
To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.
This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.
Join me below, if you would.
2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.
Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadnât even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.
It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.
But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.
The next day, weâre on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that sheâs surprised the two of us arenât up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.
âEveryone else?â Goes I, âI thought they wouldâve shut that down already?â
âOh no!â goes she, âThe courts arenât open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. Theyâre doing them all weekend long!â
We didnât know because social media wasnât a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as Iâd read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.
"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, itâs a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but weâre not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?
The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.
We had slightly miscalculated.
Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone whoâd gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.
âIsnât City Hall closed on Monday?â I asked. âItâs a holidayâ
âOh sure,â they reply, âbut people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.â
âOh cool,â we go, âBackup.â
âMake sure youâre here if you do,â they say, âbecause the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.â
And all this shit is super not-legal, so theyâll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.
00000
We donât get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.
Itâs⌠incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of othersâ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.
At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, âThatâs Newsom.â He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.
Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.
So dusk is starting to fall. Itâs February, so itâs only six or so, but itâs getting dark.
âShould we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?â we ask.
âYeah, Iâm afraid thatâs not going to be possible.â One of the volunteers tells us. âWeâre not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. Weâd need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.
Monday is the last day to do this, after all.
00000
So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.
The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people whoâre up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.
âUh.â We go. âWhat the fuck is -this-?â
So.
Remember why they werenât going to be able to have people hang out overnight?
Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties thatâd gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.
Itâs 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least werenât likely to loose job protections any time soon.).
Then it starts to rain.
We had not dressed for rain.
00000
Here is how the next six hours go.
Weâre in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. Itâs around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and youâve got a makeshift raincoat! So youâve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.
Everyone is so happy.
Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.
People online start making delivery orders.
Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because theyâre just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.
A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all weâre sinning and to please donât. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against Godâs will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.
The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how âNot even DOGS do such things!â Which⌠Yes they do.
A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that weâre willing to come out in the rain to do this while theyâre not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.
Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall weâre on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when weâre on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when weâre on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.
00000
We have Line Neighbors.
Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. Theyâve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. Heâs worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. Theyâd started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.
The most perky energetic joyful woman Iâve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. Sheâs their local friend whoâd just gotten their message about what theyâre doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.
Behind us are a lesbian couple whoâd been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. âWe met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because itâs our first love city.â
âThen they announced -this-,â the other one says, âand we canât leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.â
âI told them why,â her partner says, âI donât care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.â
My husband-to-be and I look at each other. Weâve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? Weâre potentially taking a spot from another couple thatâd been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.â
âDonât you fucking dare.â Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.
âThis is as much for you as it is for us!â says the lesbian couple whoâve been together for over a decade behind us.
âYou kids are too cute together,â says the gay coupleâs friend. âyou -have- to. Someday -youâre- going to be the old gay couple thatâs been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.â
We stay in line.
Itâs while weâre on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. âCan we say weâre with you? His uncles are already inside and theyâre not letting anyone in who isnât with a couple right there.â âOf course!â we say.
The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but thereâs free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so heâs having a great time.
We pass by a statue of Lincoln with âMarriage for All!â and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.
Itâs about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.
Theyâve promised that anyone whoâs inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. Weâre safe.
We still have a -long- way to go.
00000
Theyâre trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways Iâm not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.
Itâs after weâve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. âItâs an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you donât have to do it there!â
We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.
We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.
I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.
The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.
Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.
The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.
A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. Sheâs done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. âOh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today Iâm acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-â
The guy behind the counter has been there since six. Itâs now 1:30. Heâs still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. âAlright, go to the Rotunda, theyâll direct you to someone whoâll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, theyâll direct you to -that- line.â âCanât you just mail it to us?â âNormally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, weâre not going to be allowed to.â
We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.
If youâve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, youâve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.
Thatâs for the people who didnât bring their own wedding officials.
Thereâs a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. Theyâre doing the whole damn thing. Thereâs at least one more Rabbi at work, I canât remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.
We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)
I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I canât get the ring on my husbandâs finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.
There really isnât a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that weâd made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands whoâd cheered for us generally.
Then we're married.
Then we get in line to get our license.
Itâs another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayorâs office.
Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked âTHANK YOU!âs that have been piled up against it.
We make it to the marriage records office.
I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then weâre done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.
It's almost 3PM.
00000
There are cheers, thereâs rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. Itâs no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. Thereâs barely even any news vans.
We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading âCongratulations!â jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.
Iâm at the BART station, weâre waiting for our train back south, and Iâm sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. âHey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just⌠Iâm so happy for you. Iâm so proud of what you could do. Iâm- Iâm just really glad, glad you could get to do this.â
He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.
Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.
We get back to our car and climb in.
Itâs 4:30 and we are starving.
Thereâs a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.
We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what weâd just done.
We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.
The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsomâs marriages.
My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. âNo! No one knew that theyâd go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! Iâll just be there for the next one!â
00000
It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didnât even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was âmarriage really isnât that important, aside from the legal benefits. Itâs just confirming what you already have.â
But maybe itâs just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and Iâve never really come up with a better metaphor is, âItâs like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each otherâs support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.
It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.
I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. Itâs been twenty years and weâre still together and still married.
We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. Weâd done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husbandâs collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.
Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.
It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldnât negate it that time.
Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"
And that was that.
00000
When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didnât expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldnât see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.
I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before Iâd barely started by 30s. I never thought Iâd be in my 40s and itâd be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers wouldâve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.
I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.
I never thought Iâd live in this world.
And itâs twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.
I donât have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you canât predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.
The future weâre resigned to doesnât have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.
And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those whoâre against it will brave.
26K notes
¡
View notes
Text
.
#i ate too much oatmeal and feel like i'm gonna barf#but i really need to go to sleep so i can be well rested and clean and ready etc for my job interview tomorrow#semi related note: found a job being an observer in alaska on fishing boats that seems.... interesting#but i would be away from home for three months at a time#i think the main concern is that i might not be able to meet their physical requirements with my back being how it is#but also some of the reviews of the position made it sound like they're gonna work the absolute dogshit out of you and like.#idk if i can do that either lol#seeing alaska and going on boats would be super cool#and would probably work to cure me a bit of my thalassophobia#but how frequently would i be scared before i stopped?#bc probably like every minute of every day for awhile#and it would almost certainly resurface during storms#also a lotta people said a good deal of the fishermen can be assholes bc they don't wanna follow regs they just wanna make money#typical capitalism bullshit
0 notes
Text
The Yapping Hour is Upon Us
In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.
Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts
TheYappingHour posted:
349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.
There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. Youâve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and youâre losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you werenât really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team.Â
âEverything ready?â Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for.Â
Youâd been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public donât get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it.Â
âI think so!â You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle.Â
âGood, because he just pulled in the parking lot.â Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting itâs because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasnât true. At all. âAnd heâs driving this matte black Aston Martin.â She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider.Â
âOkay, letâs cool it on the hero worship.â You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building.Â
 Outside, itâs a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop.Â
Peering out into the parking lot, youâre surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors.Â
âHello!â Maxâs voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself.Â
âHi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?â Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand.Â
Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. âWater is fine, thanks.âÂ
âMax, itâs such a pleasure to meet you.â You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutainâs clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time.Â
âPleasure is mine.â He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty.Â
âAre we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?â You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot.Â
âWhy? Will I be needing my body guard today?â He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio. Â
You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way youâve gone pink. âOf course not! Itâs just that normally the people I have on the show travel with anâŚentourage.âÂ
âI donât like people.â He says, as if itâs the most obvious fact in the universe. âI prefer to travel solo. Besides, Iâm no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I donât really need an entourage.âÂ
He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like itâs nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. âYouâve listened to the show then?âÂ
He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes youâve made even though youâve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer.Â
âI like to know what Iâm getting myself into.â His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career.Â
âAnd yet you still came.â You tease.
âI did.â He says simply and you canât help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. Itâs so quick that if you werenât in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Maxâs are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him.Â
âWell, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.âÂ
You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how youâll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. Youâve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years youâve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think itâs because youâre good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with.Â
Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you.Â
âThank you again for joining me today, Max. Iâve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said youâd agreed to come on the show. You donât do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?âÂ
Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. Youâve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview.Â
âI like your style.â His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. âGP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical âwhatâs your favorite race track.ââÂ
âWell, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.â For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right.Â
Your eyes flicker above Maxâs shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that youâre not imagining him flirting with you.Â
âI have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, Iâve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-âŚâ
âYou went karting as research?â He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief.Â
Now itâs your turn to smirk, âOf course, I like to know what Iâm getting myself into.â You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. âMy dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I donât think Iâll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.âÂ
âKarting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?âÂ
âYou know my dad?â Your brows nearly hit your hairline, youâre so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasnât a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR.Â
Max nods, âHe was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after heâd led for the entire race.âÂ
You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks itâs the prettiest thing heâs ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck thatâs suddenly exposed. âOh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.âÂ
âHave either of you been to an F1 race yet?â A plan begins to form in Maxâs head.Â
âNo!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. Iâve tried a few times but itâs always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes itâs easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, itâs easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.â
The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you.Â
âTell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?"Â
You canât help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. âYou know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.â You tease, giving him a wink. âYou keep asking me questions, Iâm going to be out of a job, Verstappen.âÂ
âI canât help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.â He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.
The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcastâs history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesnât mind one bit, finding that heâs not as nervous as he thought heâd be with how easy he finds it talking to you.Â
You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Maxâs press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up.Â
âIâm so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know youâre not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.âÂ
Max just shrugs, âIf all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.âÂ
You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end.Â
âCan I ask you something?â He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone.Â
You look up at him and nod earnestly, âOf course!âÂ
âWhy didnât you ask me about my childhood? Usually itâs one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.âÂ
You shrug, face heating at being found out. âLike you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topicsâŚâÂ
Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Maxâs chest aches at the simple kindness youâve extended him. Itâs true, he doesnât like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when itâs recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about. Â
âThatsâŚwow. Thank you.â Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion.Â
âOf course.â You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture.Â
Maxâs eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. âI know itâs kind of last minute but you were saying earlier youâd never been to a race. Weâre in Miami next weekend and Iâd love it if you were my guestâŚâÂ
You canât help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. âI would love to, Max.âÂ
âYeah?â He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly.Â
âYeah.â You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice.Â
âHow about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.âÂ
âWhy Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.âÂ
TheYappingHour posted
987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.
yourpersonalinsta posted
234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed
tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)
@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream
#f1#formula 1#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fluff
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Telemachus: Mom, can I ask you two questions?
Penelope: Of course, Sweetie.
Telemachus: Great! Okay, the first one is this: what's something that moves around really quietly, can turn its head surprisingly far, is super smart, and slashes mean people with claws?
Penelope: I think that would be an owl.
Telemachus: Ooh, cool. Okay, last question. What's something that gets really excitable, leaves you bones to say it's happy, is pretty fussy, and bites people it doesn't like?
Penelope: That sounds like a puppy.
Telemachus: Fun! Okay, then, Mom, I got followed home by an owl and a puppy today.
Penelope: Aw! Really? Where are they? I want to see too.
Telemachus (turning to the doorway): Come on in!
(Athena and Ares enter the room)
Penelope:...Tel, I feel like I neglected some part of your studies.
#greek mythology#epic the musical#epic telemachus#epic penelope#epic athena#epic ares#athena#athena goddess of wisdom#athena goddess#owlthena#pupares#ares#ares god of war#ares god
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
May I interest anyone in a bunch of role!swapped dorks tonight? Yes? No? Maybe? No matter the answer, I've got them and I want them to be free! So be free, my first batch of pretties!!! Heaven knows I need to exercise you out of my brain right now. If you wanna know some base vibes for this brand of insanity, uhh keep reading I guess!
Housemaiden!Bonnie's backstory is simple. When Nille grabbed Bonnie and ran away from home, both siblings were welcomed into a House of Change and they were swiftly adopted by everybody who met them. Bonnie was inspired by the kindness and hospitality the Housemaidens gave them, so they decided to become a devoted follower, inevitably getting Head Housemadien Euphrasie's love and attention too. Living in a school kinda sucked, but Nille seemed happy so they liked it well enough. Cue the King storming Dormont's House! Euphrasie basically blessed Bonnie to be immune from the curse and pushed them out the door, leaving them to try and find "someone else to help". As per her instructions, Bonnie tried. Bonnie failed. Bonnie swore everybody black and blue and left Dormont in a huff. Fighter!Siffrin found them just seconds before they passed out from exhaustion in the middle of nowhere. Bonnie has an emotional breakdown and asks if this super cool fighter can help them save the country or whatever instead of all those crabbing crabs who didn't want to help them in Dormont Of course Siffrin wasn't going to let a little kid wander the wilderness alone, so they agreed (without really understanding what Bonnie was asking them to do) and tagged along. It didn't take too long to find the other 3 members that would make up Bonnie's "Ultimate Kickbutt Team", but those details are still being worked out. Safe to say it's a time and a half, though!
#my art#ISAT Role!Swap AU#in stars and time#I don't wanna talk about how Isa and Sif bonded so quickly because it'd be funnier (and easier) if I drew it#but I will say drawing Isa without sleeves is almost like drawing Sif without his cloak#oddly satisfying. a little addictive.#would recommend.
1K notes
¡
View notes
Note
Would you be willing write a Remus fic about that super blue moon that is supposed to be happening?? like maybe itâs so so bad for him and he takes it all out on reader and sheâs really sensitive and you can go from there lol
thatâd be great love but itâs okay if not, thanks!! <3
thanks for the request! decided to make this with our Black!sister reader since we've been having fun with her <3
Remus Lupin x Black!reader who he takes out his Super Blue Moon frustrations on [1.6k words]
CW: Remus was being mean/rude to reader but we don't really see the angst... just the consequences of the angst, hurt/comfort, big brother Sirius having absolutely NONE of the nonsense!
âHey moons, have you seen my sister around lately?â Sirius asked nonchalantly as he entered their shared dorm room; noticing immediately the tension in Remusâ shoulders as he positioned his body away from the door.Â
âHow should I know?â Remus muttered darkly. âIâm not her keeper.â
And though Sirius had tried to be cool when he first realised his baby sister and best friend had less than platonic feelings for each other and vowed to stay out of their relationship, there were unfortunately some things that Sirius couldnât let slide.
âDid she eat all of your chocolate?â He asked calmly, causing Remus to roll his shoulders in an attempt to pacify himself.Â
âNo?â
âMâkay.â Sirius agreed as he put his school books in his trunk. âDid she throw your books into the Black lake?âÂ
âSirius.â Remus hissed warningly.
âDid she tell Snape to sneak out after curfew to the Whomping Willow one night so that he would come face to face with Moony, only for James to have to fight you off of him as Snape ran for his life? Oh, wait, that was me.â
âFuck off, Sirius.â
âNo thanks.â Sirius huffed as he closed his trunk with a thud. âWell, if she hasnât done any of those things, why are you treating her like such an arse?âÂ
âIâm not treating her like anything, Pads. Stay out of it.â Remus nearly growled as he stood abruptly from his desk and moved towards his bed.Â
âShanât.â Sirius refused, following his friend across the room. âYou chose to date my sister, you have to deal with the consequences.âÂ
âGreat bloody choice I made.â Remus muttered petulantly, yelping when a book hit him in the head.
âAre you fucking kidding me?â He hissed as he looked at Sirius who was staring him down defiantly.Â
âIf you know whatâs good for you, Rem, you will never speak about my sister like that again, got it?âÂ
Remus seemed to relent as he laid back on his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to bring his boiling anger down to a simmer.Â
âIâm the first to admit that Blackâs are not often a good bunch, but if a Black could be perfect, sheâs about as close as they would come. And I donât like seeing her this terrified.â
Remus sat up at that, narrowing his eyes at his friend in confusion. âSheâs not terrified of me.â
Sirius shrugged in disagreement. âShe tenses every time you walk into the Great Hall and canât seem to make eye contact with you, which usually only happens after a crucio or two from mummy dearest.â
Sirius watched the fight leave Remus almost immediately as he looked down at his lap in shame. âSheâsâŚsensitive, Rem. We all are, we-â Sirius cut himself off as he stared unseeingly at the stone wall behind his mates head. âWe canât handle these kinds of moods as well as some other people can; tension and anger always led to pain and punishment growing up.â
âItâs not her, Pads.â Remus whispered.Â
âI know itâs not. Somewhere deep down she might know that too butâŚâ
âI know.â Remus offered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. âItâs thisâŚthis fucking moon, I- itâs driving me barmy.âÂ
âI understand that, but you canât take it out on her; itâs not her fault.â Sirius offered gently before retreating from the dorm to allow his friend to digest what he said; he may not like the fact that his best friend and sister found their way to each other, but he also knew that both of you deserved to be happy. If he could help you both achieve that by being supportive, well, supportive he would be.Â
ă.ă:+* ďž ăďž *+:ă.ă:+* ďž ăďž *+:ă.ă.ă:+*ďž ăďž *+:ă.ă:+*ďž
Remus felt shame course through his body as he walked through the library in search of you.Â
Between his senses being heightened this close to the moon, the additional magic at play with the super blue moon, and the fact that he knew you were a creature of habit and had a table you often frequented, it didnât take him long to find you.Â
âMind if I join you?â He asked quietly, feeling his heart crack painfully when you did, indeed, flinch at the sound of his voice and sat impossibly straighter in your chair.
âOkay.â You whispered in response, not looking away from your book as he moved to sit across the table from you, though he could tell you were no longer reading as your eyes remained glued to one spot.Â
âIâm sorry that Iâve been such an arse, Dove.â
âItâs okay.â You said quickly, still not looking at him.
âNo itâs not.â He argued softly.
He watched your jaw tighten as you repositioned yourself in your chair in obvious discomfort.Â
âItâs this moon.â You explained breezily.Â
âWhich isnât your fault, and I shouldnât be taking it out on you- dove, can you look at me? Please?âÂ
He watched your throat constrict as you stole yourself and brought your eyes up to his. They were glossy, but not like you were about to cry - glossy like you were hiding, like you were occluding.Â
He hated it; hated that you were hiding from him, hated that you felt like you had to hide from him, hated that he made you feel like you had to hide from him, hated that you even knew how to hide inside your own mind at all.Â
âDovey, look at me.â He repeated gently in hopes that youâd let the walls down, daring to reach a hand across the table in invitation.Â
He watched as your eyes flit to his hand and back up again and he tried to keep his face neutral; no pressure or force as he let you decide if you were willing to trust him.Â
You placed your hand in his, but kept your gaze pointed at your joined hands.Â
âI know better than to let my moods affect you, sweetheart. Iâm sorry.â He pressed sincerely.
You scoffed and moved your gaze to one of the rafters above you. âIâm not some delicate flower you need to tiptoe around, Remus; I can handle a bad mood.â You shot back defensively.Â
âI knowâŚâ He whispered as he rubbed circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.
He knew you werenât a delicate flower; on the contrary, you were one of the strongest people heâd ever met.Â
You gave the entire Hufflepuff house a run for their money on who was the most loyal wix in the castle. You always looked out for your brothers, constantly playing referee, devils advocate, and a surrogate parent for the two young Black boys. You grew up making sure Sirius never acted too outlandishly or brought too much trouble onto himself, making sure Regulus wasnât completely beaten down into nothing and grew up to be a semi-decent boy, and taking the blame when you were unable to do either of those things.Â
And to top it all off, you put up with him; a foul-mouthed, poor, Welsh, anger-issue riddled boy who didnât deserve you.Â
âBaby, look at me, please.â He begged, reaching forward with his other hand so he was holding your one in between both of his.
You turned your gaze to him and it seemed to be taking everything in your power to hold his gaze.
âIâm so sorry, my love.â He whispered, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your fingers.
Your eyes tracked the movement before flitting back up to his.
You offered him a curt nod and chewed on your bottom lip. âI didnât mean to upset you.â You whispered, eyes turning glossy for a whole new reason.
Remus made a pitiful sound from the back of his throat and stood to move to the chair beside you, never relinquishing his grasp on your hand.Â
âYou didnât upset me, dove, I was just upset. And an arse; donât forget the part about me being an arse.â
You offered him a wet chuckle at that as you sniffed, returning his hold of your hand and giving it a squeeze.Â
âI hate not being able toâŚhelp, to take any of the burden off of you, to make it at all less painful for you.â
âYou do, sweetheart, you do. By being here, and being with me, and being patient even when Iâm an arse, okay?â He insisted, punctuating each reason he was grateful for you with a squeeze of your hand. âI donât deserve it but Iâm so lucky to have you.â
âYou do deserve it.â You murmured, bringing your eyes back up to his.
And he couldnât help himself, really; he had always been powerless against the pull you had on him and this time was no different as he closed the distance between the two of you to press a lingering kiss to your lips.Â
âThe point of all this,â Remus said as he broke away from you and bumped your nose with his, âis that you didnât deserve to be treated the way that I treated you this week, and I wonât let it happen again, okay?â
You gave him a sad smile and gave his nose a bump in return.
âHow mad was Sirius?â
âFuming.â Remus admitted immediately.
âDid he throw a pillow at you?â
âA book.â He corrected solemnly, earning him an astonished look from you.Â
âOhâŚyou crossed a line.â
Remus nodded abashedly. âHonestly? I think it might be harder to get him to forgive me than it was to get you to forgive me.â
Remus relished in the surprised laugh that bubbled out of you at that, and he vowed to never ever let another moon cause him to go this long without hearing it again.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#marauders#the marauders#Black!sister#the black family#the maruaders#marauder era#black family reader#remus lupin fic#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin blurb#Remus Lupin ficlet#ellecdc fics#big brother sirius
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
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 buddyâs lake house this summer.
âYouâll love it! Itâs so nice up there,â Trevor had urged, his enthusiasm infectious. You could still hear his voice, brimming with excitement. âItâs my friend Jackâs place. You guys would get along great! And his brothers are super chill too.â
At the time, youâd felt a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Itâd been about three years youâd 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.
âAre you trying to set me up with him?â youâd 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. âNooo, Iâm just saying you guys would vibe. Heâs a cool guy. Super chill.â
You rolled your eyes, folding your arms across your chest. âUh-huh. And his brothers?â
âAlso cool!â Trevor leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief. âBut listen, Jackâs the one I think youâd really like. Just come for like, a week or two, see what happens. No pressure. I promise youâll have fun.â
Youâd 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 Trevorâs 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 Trevorâs nonstop chatter and your own uncertain silence. You werenât 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 wasnât terrible â 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. Heâs smiling â 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 wasnât lying when he commented about Jackâs appearance. âSome people call him a pretty boy but⌠I mean he is pretty, but heâs a good-looking dude, yâknow?â He was definitely attractive, something anyone could admit you thought, but he wasnât 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, Jackâs eyes catching yours as a small smile appeared on his lips.
Jack steps forward, extending a hand. âHey, you must be y/n. Iâve heard a lot about you,â he says, his voice warm with that relaxed confidence youâd expect from someone whoâs used to being the center of attention.
You shake his hand, feeling the easy smile on your face widen a little. âAll good things, I hope.â
Trevor laughs, throwing an arm around Jackâs shoulder. âMostly good things.â He winks at you, and you canât 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 youâd get along with him.
âAnd this is the back deck,â 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.
âWhoâs that?â 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.
âThatâs Quinn,â Jack says, following your gaze and glancing out toward the dock. âMy older brother.â
The sun seems to linger on Quinnâs 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.
âQ!â Jack shouts, whistling to get his brotherâs attention. Quinnâs gaze snaps to the two of you, your pulse quickening as his eyes land on you. âCome up here!â
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. Thereâs 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.
âThis is Trevorâs friend, y/n. Sheâs joining us for the summerâ Jack introduces.
As Quinnâs gaze flickers back to you, you notice thereâs something about the way he looks at you â subtle, assessing. His gaze has a certain depth, a look you canât 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.
âNice to meet you,â 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, heâs even more striking. Thereâs 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.
âNice to meet you too,â you manage, your voice coming out softer than you intended, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. You mentally kick yourself, hoping he doesnât notice, but the glimmer in his eyes suggests otherwise.
Jack, oblivious to the undercurrent, clapped his hands, breaking the moment. âAlright, well, thereâs more to see, and if we donât get back, Trevorâs going to start whining about being abandoned,â he joked.
You chuckle, your eyes pulling away from Quinnsâ for the first time since he joined you on the porch. But as you turned to follow Jack back inside, you couldnât 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 itâs an impromptu game of cornhole, a daring cliff dive, or a spontaneous trip into town.
With Jack, the connection forms fast. Heâs 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 itâs cliff-jumping or getting you to help him with dinner when itâs his turn. You can tell that Trevorâs 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 itâs Quinn who holds your attention in a way you hadnât 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, itâs with a low, steady voice that commands attention without trying. And unlike Jackâs energy, which feels like the buzz of the sun overhead, Quinnâs 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 youâd borrowed from Jack. Quinn sat across from you, the beer heâd 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. âSo,â he begins, breaking the comfortable silence, âWhatâs California like?â 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. âItâs⌠different from here,â you admit, glancing out at the lake where the moon dances on the still water. âItâs a bit fast-paced. And warm. Lots of sun, lots of people. But sometimes, it feels like everyoneâs moving so quickly that you get lost in the crowd.â
Quinn nods, his eyes steady on you. âI 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. Thereâs⌠balance out here.â He gestures out toward the lake, his voice contemplative. âLike all of this has a way of pulling you back to what matters.â
His words resonate deeply, and you find yourself nodding. âExactly,â you murmur. âItâs like thereâs space to breathe. And you notice things that usually get lost in all the⌠chaos.â
Quinnâs gaze lingers on you a moment longer, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth. âIâm glad you came. Itâs been⌠good to have you here,â he says quietly, his eyes soft. âWe donât have other people up here often.â
Your heart pounds a little faster at the sincerity in his voice, and for a second, the rest of the world disappears. Thereâs 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 canât quite name.
But then, as if drawn back to reality, Quinnâs eyes shift, his expression subtly changing. âAnd Jack,â he says, almost as an afterthought. âHe⌠really likes you, you know? He doesnât say it, but I can tell.â
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 Jackâs interest hangs heavily between you and Quinn now, an undeniable reminder of the complicated line youâre toeing.
âRight, yeahâŚâ you reply softly, looking down, your voice tinged with a mix of guilt and frustration. You hadnât meant for this to get complicated, yet here you are, caught between two brothers who couldnât be more different.
An uncomfortable silence settles over you both, thick and heavy. Quinnâs eyes linger on you, as if heâs about to say something more, but he holds back. His lips press into a thin line, and you wonder if heâs feeling the same conflict, the same confusion thatâs twisting knots inside you.
You force yourself to look away, swallowing hard. âI think⌠I should probably head to bed,â you murmur, avoiding his gaze. You stand up, offering him a small, tight-lipped smile that doesnât quite reach your eyes. âGoodnight, Quinn.â
Quinn nods, his expression unreadable as he watches you ebb towards the door. âGoodnight, y/n,â he murmurs, his voice low and steady, though thereâs a flicker of something in his gaze â 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, Quinnâs words and the feel of his gaze lingering with you. Your mind is a whirlwind, caught between the easy, carefree friendship thatâs 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. Thereâs something undeniably different about him, something that makes it impossible to feel the same way about Jack, no matter how hard you try. Jackâs presence is light and friendly but with Quinn⌠itâs like thereâs a hidden gravity pulling you toward him, a quiet understanding that lingers beneath the surface of every conversation. Every night on that porch, heâs 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 â that almost undetectable spark that youâre sure you didnât 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. Thereâs no pretending with Quinn. And even though heâd mentioned Jack, it only made you realize how much more youâre drawn to Quinn. Jack might be developing feelings for you, but itâs Quinn who fills your thoughts, who leaves you breathless in a way you canât 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 â 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 Jackâs enthusiastic suggestion, the group decides to spend the day out on the lake, hoping the sun and water will wash away any unease. Itâs 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 doesnât 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. âAlright,â he says, his smile as wide as the lake. âAre you ready for the full lake house experience? Because to really do that, youâve got to jump off the boat at least once today.â
You laugh, shaking your head as you crack open the can. âIâm pretty sure youâre just making up rules to mess with me.â
He shrugs, a playful glint in his eye. âMaybe, but you have to do it anyway,â he shrugs.
Trevor chimes in, chuckling from his spot. âJackâs right, y/n. First-time lake visitors have to jump. Itâs tradition!â
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 canât feel more for him, because, somehow, your thoughts are pulled elsewhere and on someone else.
Jackâs laughter brings you back to the moment, and he leans a little closer. âCome on, we can make it a team effort. I mean, if youâre too nervous, I can just hold your hand.â His voice is playful, but thereâs a hint of sincerity in his words, a hope that youâll let him bridge the gap heâs trying so hard to close.
Your smile is genuine, but before you can respond, you hear Quinn's low chuckle from behind you. Itâs soft, barely audible over the hum of the boatâs motor, but enough to pull your focus completely away from Jack. You glance back at Quinn whoâs 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. âCome on, y/n, itâll be an official initiation. Weâll jump together, yeah?â
Your gaze flickers between Jackâs outstretched hand and Quinn, whoâs watching with an inscrutable expression, his eyes narrowed slightly as he leans back, crossing his arms. You canât deny thereâs 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 Jackâs 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 doesnât go unnoticed.
âReady?â Jack asks, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering a bit too long as he watches your expression. Thereâs a hopeful vulnerability in his face, a look that makes you hesitate for a moment. You donât want to hurt him, but thereâs a part of you that wishes heâd pull back, that heâd realize youâre not as invested in this connection as he is.
You manage a nod, hoping he doesnât notice the small sigh you let slip. âReady as Iâll ever be.â
He beams, counting down with a quiet âthree⌠two⌠one!â before the two of you leap into the lake together, the cool water rushing up to meet you. When you surface, youâre greeted by Jackâs 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.
Jackâs 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. âHey, stay with me here,â he says, his tone half-joking, half-pleading. And you want to, you really do, but Quinnâs gaze is magnetic, and you canât help but feel pulled toward him, as if thereâs 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 youâre 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. âAlright, whatâs next? We could always do another round of jumps, or maybe a swim to the dock?â 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.
ââââŕ¨ŕ§ââââ
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 Trevorâs theatrics. Every so often, he'd lean in, commenting with a low murmur meant only for you. Heâd even offered you his hoodie earlier, though the night wasnât 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 youâd 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. Quinnâs gaze would shift, his attention lost somewhere in the darkness beyond the flames, leaving you wondering if youâd only imagined it.
As Trevor finally wrapped up his tale with an exaggerated flourish, the groupâs 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 intensityâa contrast to Jackâs 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. âHey, want to grab a drink or something? I think I saw some ciders in the cooler on the porch.â
âOh, yeah, sure,â you replied, a small smile curving your lips as you pushed yourself up to join him.
You could feel the weight of Quinnâs 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 â 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 couldnât ignore. You tried to shake it off, reminding yourself to appreciate his warmth and interest. But you couldnât 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 eyesâthe hopefulness, the eagernessâonly tightened the knot in your chest.
Jack took a sip of his drink, leaning casually against the porch railing, his gaze still on you. âItâs nice here at night, isnât it?â 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.
âYeah, it really is,â you agreed, looking out at the lake rather than meeting his eyes. âItâs peaceful.â
Jackâs voice was quieter when he spoke this time like he was mulling something over. âYou know, itâs been great having you up here. I meanâŚIâm glad Z brought you here.â he said softly, though his smile didnât 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 didnât. Not the way Quinnâs 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 heâd 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.
âShould we head back?â 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 â 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 couldnât 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 youâd 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. Heâd be calm, reserved, but thereâd always be a hint of a smile when you teased him about his stoic nature, a glint in his eyes when heâd 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 Quinnâs indifference would come back like the morning mist, blanketing any closeness you thought youâd 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. Heâd 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 maybeâjust maybeâhe 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, Jackâs 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.
âHey, you okay?â Jack asked, concern lacing his voice. You hadnât 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. âYeah, justâŚlost in thought, I guess.â
But as you said it, your gaze slipped across the fire once more, finding Quinnâs 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. âDonât get into too much trouble out here,â 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 couldnât 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 Iâll 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 didnât, 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.
âQuinn, can we talk?â Your voice was steady, but just barely. Quinnâs 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.
âI donât know whatâs going on between us,â you said softly. âBut⌠fuck, I canât stop thinking about you, and itâs driving me crazy. I need to know if itâs all just in my head or if you feel it too. Because if thereâs a reason I feel this way⌠I need to know.â
You trailed off, heart hammering against your ribcage as the words hung in the air between you. For a moment, he didnât 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 heâd rehearsed this response in his mind countless times. âItâs not in your head,â he admitted, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. âThereâs something here, between us. I feel it too.â
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.
âButâŚâ His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges. ��It canât go anywhere. Not with Jack. HeâsâŚheâs into you.â He looked back at you, the regret in his eyes evident, a pain mirrored in your own chest. âI canât do that to him.â
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 hadnât expected it to hurt this much, hadnât realized how much youâd been hoping heâd say the opposite, that heâd fight for whatever was happening between you.
You dropped your gaze, feeling foolish, vulnerable, exposed. âSo thatâs it? We just⌠pretend this doesnât exist?â you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. âLike nothingâs been happening all this time?â
Quinnâs jaw tightened, and he looked away, his expression pained. âI donât want to pretend. But I canât⌠I wonât hurt him, not like that. Heâs my brother.â He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly. âAnd he really cares about you.â
You swallowed hard. It felt ridiculousâbeing here, feeling so foolishly hopeful, only to be left with a hollow ache and a fractured connection that couldnât 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.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered. âI wish it could be different.â
The words left you hollow. Part of you wanted to fight, to tell him that what you felt couldnât just be ignored, but another part â the part that knew him and understood his loyalty â couldnât 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.
âFine,â 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 didnât 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 hadnât 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 Quinnâs 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 soundâthe clinking of mugs, the soft scrape of a chairâonly intensifying the ache you couldnât 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 couldnât ease the storm of emotions inside.
The quiet was soon broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, and you didnât need to look to know it was Jack. You felt him sit beside you, his presence warm and grounding. For a moment, he didnât say anything â 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. âYou okay this morning? Youâve been⌠quiet,â he said softly, his voice tentative, as if he were stepping carefully around broken glass. âDistant.â
You swallowed, bracing yourself as you met his gaze. His eyes were filled with genuine concern, a softness that only made this harder. âYeah,â you murmured, looking back out at the lake. âGuess I just needed some space.â
Jack nodded, though he didnât seem convinced. His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the dock, and after a beat, he spoke again, his tone thoughtful, almost nostalgic.
âYou know,â he began, eyes cast down at the water, âwhen Trevor told me he was bringing a friend this summer, he was so sure weâd hit it off. He kept going on about how you and I would be perfect for each other, that weâd get along great.â A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. âI remember feeling this weird, excited energy like⌠maybe he was right, you know? Maybe I was going to meet someone special.â
You felt a lump forming in your throat as he continued, his voice carrying a warmth that was both comforting and deeply bittersweet.
âAnd when you got hereâŚâ He hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, as if to gauge your reaction. âI donât know, it just⌠felt easy, from the start. Like weâd known each other forever. I started to feel like maybe Trevor had been onto something.â He gave a soft laugh, but there was no humor in it, just the weight of unspoken feelings.
âThings felt really good between us, and I thought you felt it too,â he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. âSo I started to get my hopes upâthinking maybe this was the start of something real.â
You winced, guilt gnawing at you. âJack⌠Iâm so sorry,â you said, your voice shaky. âI didnât mean to lead you on, truly. I think youâre amazing. From the bottom of my heart, I just⌠I mean thereâs gotta be some sort of spell this fucking house puts me under because I would be insane otherwise to not like you! You⌠youâre so perfect that any other girl would be scremaing at me, trying to claw my eyes out for not appreciating you. But⌠I just canât. I donât know whatâs wrong with me.â
Jackâs 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.
âI get it,â he murmured, though his voice had an unmistakable crack in it. âI mean⌠I think I get it. You canât force something that isnât there, right?â He gave a sad smile, one that tried to mask the hurt but didnât 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 heâd 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 hadnât yet asked.
âCan I⌠can I just ask you one thing?â 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.
âDo you⌠have feelings for Quinn?â
The words hung in the air, heavy and painful, and a part of you wished he hadnât 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, âYes.â
A heavy silence fell between you, and Jack seemed to shrink a little, his shoulders slumping as he took it in. Jackâs 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.
âSo, you⌠you and Quinn. Is there⌠anything actually happening between you two?â He glanced at you, a flicker of something raw in his eyes â hope, maybe, or just the need to understand.
You shook your head, offering a small, bittersweet smile. âNo, Jack. Weâre⌠weâre not together. We wonât be.â
He looked at you, brow furrowed. âWhy not?â he asked softly, his confusion obvious. âIf you feel that way about him, why wouldnât you try?â
You took a shaky breath, the words catching in your throat. âBecause Quinn⌠Quinnâs too good of a brother. Heâd never go for me because of you⌠and because of what he knows you feel.â
Jack blinked, his brow furrowing as he took in your words. âWaitâwhat does that mean? Because of me?â 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. âQuinn told me he could never be with me because he knows how you feel. He doesnât want to hurt you, Jack.â
Jackâs jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration flashing across his face. âSo⌠let me get this straight,â he muttered, almost incredulously. âHeâs not doing anything about how he feelsâbecause of me?â
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 youâd 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.
âSo he⌠he cares enough to stay away,â Jack said slowly, the words laced with a sadness that felt almost like admiration. âThat's⌠just like him.â He took a deep breath, forcing a small, sad smile. âI wish things were different. I wish we could just rewind, go back to the start of summer and⌠and pretend this never happened.â
You swallowed hard, his words striking a chord deep within you. âMe too,â you whispered, eyes burning with unshed tears. âI never wanted any of this to happen, Jack. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.â
Jack looked over at you, his expression softening, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of the easy, unburdened friendship youâd had in the beginning. âI know,â he murmured. âYouâre not the kind of person whoâd do this on purpose. Itâs just⌠life, I guess. Itâs complicated, ân messy as hell. And⌠maybe Trevor was right. We do get along. Just⌠maybe not in the way he thought we would.â
He smiled, a genuine one this time, though tinged with a sadness he couldnât hide. âMaybe someday⌠I wonât feel this way,â he said quietly, his voice barely audible above the soft lapping of the lake against the dock. âBut for now⌠I think I just need a little space. Time, maybe.â
You nodded, understanding that this was what he needed, even if it hurt to hear. âI get it, Jack. I do.â
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 squeezeâa quiet truce, an understanding. Then he stood, brushing off his shorts and glancing back at the house.
âIâll be up at the house for a bit,â 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 â 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 couldnât 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 Jackâs guarded smiles and Quinnâs restrained distanceâit 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. Quinnâs 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, youâd be on a plane back to California, back to your own life â away from Jackâs pained looks and Quinnâs 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 couldnât 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 Jackâs 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 didnât give Quinn time to speak. The words erupted from him, fueled by everything heâd been holding back.
âDo you even understand what youâre doing?â Jackâs voice was low and seething, barely contained. He didnât wait for an answer, didnât dare let Quinn get a word in. âYouâre 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 youâre still just⌠sitting back like a damn martyr, thinking that by staying distant, youâre somehow making it easier for everyone. That by holding back, youâre sparing her, sparing me.â
Jackâs 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 Quinnâs stoic expression. Quinn shifted uncomfortably but didnât interrupt; he only looked at Jack, his gaze unwavering.
âAnd you know what? I kind of hate you for it,â Jack continued, voice unsteady. He turned his head just enough for Quinn to catch the anger, the hurt in his eyes. âI hate that you waltzed in and just took her from me without even trying. And, yeah, maybe thatâs selfish. Maybe I never really had a chance, but she was still there, and I was trying. I was there, damn it!â
Quinn finally took a step forward, but Jack cut him off again, his hands clenching at the counter. âAnd I hate you for pretending like youâre doing the right thing by telling her nothing will happen. You act like youâre some noble saint by âstaying away,â but itâs a lie, Quinn. Itâs a lie, and we both know it. Youâre holding back because youâre scared â scared to go after what you really want, and in the end, youâre just making it worse for everyone. For her. For me.â
Jackâs 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. âWould you hate me if I went for her, then?â His tone was gentle, almost hesitant, a softness that Jack hadnât been prepared for.
Jackâs jaw tightened. âYeah,â he admitted. âI probably would.â He ran a hand through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping him. âI mean I hate you right now for making her feel the way she does. But it shouldnât matter, Quinn. Not if you two⌠if you actually care about each other.â Jackâs voice faltered, breaking under the weight of his own honesty. âLook, Iâll get over it. In time. But donât waste what could be something good just because youâre trying to spare everyone. Itâs pointless, and itâs selfish. You need to get to her before itâs too late.â
Quinn could feel Jackâs 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 hadnât let himself get close to you. But as Jackâs gaze softened, an odd understanding settled between them. Jack wasnât letting go easily, but he was letting go.
Jackâs shoulders slumped, exhausted, as he ran a hand over his face. âSheâs leaving today, you know?â he said to Quinn, a look of surprise appearing on his face. âTrev told me last night she booked her flight out for this afternoon.â
Quinnâs face fell, and the guarded look faded, replaced with something dangerously close to panic. He hadnât knownâhadnât expected that this was it. That today was the end.
âSheâs leaving?â Quinn asked, Jack nodding. âWhy didnât she say anything? W-why is she leaving?â
âBecause why would she stay?â Jack said. âSheâs going to protect herself. Sheâs not gonna stay here, hoping for something that wonât happen. Sheâs too smart for that.â
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. Sheâs leaving. Of course, she would. She wasnât 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, itâs not too late. She hasnât left yet. If you really care about her, donât let her go like this."
Quinnâs gaze faltered, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his expression. Could he really undo the damage heâd done by staying away? Could he find the words to convince her that, despite his silence, heâd felt everything just as deeply as she had?
A heavy silence followed before Quinn found his voice. âWhat⌠what should I say to her?â
Jack shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. âYou really think Iâm giving you advice on how to get the girl I wanted?â
Quinnâs face softened in a rare, grateful smile. âFair enough.â 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.
âI donât know what went down between you three,â Trevor said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. âBut I care about her, and I donât like seeing her like this. You going to fix whatever mess this is?â
Quinnâs 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 couldnât fault him for looking out for you.
âIâm going to fix it,â Quinn said, his voice quiet but firm. He met Trevorâs gaze, hoping to communicate the sincerity in his words. âI have to.â
Trevor didnât 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.
âAre you really going?â Quinn asked, his voice quiet and strained.
You nodded, stepping away from the window and closer to Quinn. âI think itâs best. This whole summer has just⌠itâs too much, Quinn. I didnât come here expecting any of this, and now I just feel⌠caught. And I canât keep feeling this way.â
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.
âI didnât expect any of this either,â he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. âAnd I get it â youâre 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 â move on from me, and be with Jack. I thought it would hurt less.â
You held his gaze, your voice low but unwavering. âDo 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 couldnât even look at me. And youâre saying you did that on purpose? To protect me?â Your voice trembled. âThatâs not protecting me. Thatâs running away.â
Quinn took a shaky breath, stepping closer, his expression taut with regret. âI know I messed up. I was spineless and I should have told you the truth sooner.â Quinn said, bowing his head briefly before forcing himself to look up at your hurt eyes. âI 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 â I couldnât breathe.â
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. âBut 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.â He swallowed, his voice growing rough. âBut I canât let you leave without knowing how I feel. I want to be with you I â I need to be with you.â
Your breath hitched, the confession settling over you like a warm, crushing weight. This was what youâd 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 heâd 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 couldnât shake. The memory clawed at you, guilt mixing with the longing Quinnâs words evoked.
âYou have no idea how much Iâve wanted to hear that,â you said, voice catching. âBut Quinn⌠Jack â he tried so hard with me this summer, and I couldnât give him what he wanted because of⌠well, because of you.â You hesitated, torn between the longing in Quinnâs eyes and the memory of Jackâs earnest, hopeful glances. âThe last thing I wanted was to hurt him. And I feel like Iâve done enough damage by just⌠being here.â
Quinnâs gaze softened, his hand lingering just above your arm, hovering close as if he wasnât ready to let you go. âI know,â he murmured. âI know itâs 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 thatâs not with him. Heâll get over it.â
âJack said that?â you whispered, barely able to believe it.
Quinn nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though there was sadness in his eyes. âHe might hate me for a while, and I can live with that. But he said Iâd regret it if I let you go. And⌠he was right.â
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. âI know Iâve messed up,â he murmured, voice barely a whisper. âBut if youâll let me, Iâll make it right. I want this, us⌠if you do too.â
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 didnât.
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, couldnât 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. âIâve wanted to do that since the day you got here,â 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 â 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 meanâfor Jack, for Quinn, and for yourself. There was a part of you that still ached, remembering Jackâs 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. âI still think I need to go,â you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. âNot because I donât want this. I do. But I think both of you need time, and maybe I do too. To let everything settle.â
Quinn nodded, understanding settling over his expression. âI get it,â he replied, taking your hand in his and giving your palm a soft kiss. âIâll be here when youâre ready. Take all the time you need.â
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.
âSo, this is it?â he asked, his voice gentle but with an undercurrent of acceptance.
You nodded. âYeah, I think itâs best. Thank you, Jack. For understanding. And⌠for everything.â
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. âGo live your life. I wish you and Quinn all the best.â
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. Heâd let go, not because it didnât 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 Jackâs 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 hadnât turned out anything like youâd expected.
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes imagine#nhl#nhl imagine#hockey#hockey imagine#jack hughes#jack hughes imagine#new jersey devils#vancouver canucks#`âŚË âď¸ đâš my works#qh43#jh86
785 notes
¡
View notes