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#i think i've always felt pressure to be 'perfect'? so it means a lot to me when. yk the ppl in my life n the settings where

angelwithdemonictendencies · 1 month

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i'd sigh in bliss, even while drowning, if only it was your hand holding me under; your kiss is the most violent death i've ever known.

qh43 x reader: let's take this bitter tension on the water, shall we?

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), fingering, hair pulling (have you guys seen his hair, recently?), choking (it's really been too long. too many nice guys), talking (he brings out the best in me), tears (or the worst idk), lots and lots and lots of miscommunication and tension and being kinda mean, obviously i'm forgetting things but all my usual stuff. please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: thank you for waiting, my favorites. i give you qh43 x doll (on deck). this idea has taken me a long time to flesh out, with lots of work and outlining and such, so i really hope you enjoy. i told myself it was going to be short and it ended up being 16.5k, because i have no self control. i guess i was just in the mood to write angst-filled argument after angst-filled argument, given all the sweet boy content i've been putting out recently (don't worry, that will be back soon enough). and qh43 is my go-to for the sad stuff, for the fights and kisses in the rain (literally, this time). can you tell i was listening to taylor's is it really over? way too much and thought... what if it wasn't? over, that is? obviously, none of this makes any logistical sense, you guys know this. thank you for reading anyways. let's see, what else? loving the nico slut headcanon i'm committing to. also love a good mt19 gap-tooth takeover (is he not the perfect cruise ship fling?). and luke is here, too, for all the people telling me to write for him. i'm sorry, i know the miscommunication trope is frustrating and the one-bed trope is cliche. please, for the love of god, take this as a sign to be clear with people about how you feel. life is too short. i have like one billion baby stories started right now, so we will see for which inspiration proves most fruitful. will it be golf pro cc22 x bevcart girl? geology ta js1 x classics ta? the tj17 one i've been trying to finish forever? none of the above? we'll see. pretty, pretty please, tell me what you think. go canucks (dare i say cup-bound), tell your snakes i love them. until next time. love, always).

as much as you wanted to be completely and purely excited for this little excursion, as much as you wanted this to be a truly undiluted celebration of your best friend's wedding next weekend, something was standing in your way.

"c'mon," the bride-to-be, savannah, said, standing on the pier next to you as you gazed out at the obscenely massive cruise ship, its numerous windows like the eyes of a spider, much too many and much too close together, "you've worked so hard, babe." she gave you a tight side-hug, which you returned. "you've made this whole process so easy, hm? let loose for a weekend, and then, i promise, you can go right back to being the militant maid of honor you are."

you let out a short laugh, let your shoulders settle back into place. "thanks for this weekend, sav," you said. "it's gonna be great." she was right, of course, in some ways, and wrong in others.

you had worked hard, very, very hard, because you cared about savannah, loved her like a sister, and you wanted her wedding to be one of dreams. you liked jack, her fiance, a lot, too, and you liked them together, saw how they brought out the best in each other.

it had been months of making sure everything during the planning process went over smoothly, of being there for savannah when the world felt like it was ending, when the pressure of a wedding felt like it was insurmountable.

when bridesmaids had a little too much to say about their dresses, or when family members had a little too much to say about their hotel arrangements, or when savannah herself had a little too much to say about how it just had to be perfect, you were there, mitigating the worries and stressors and potential problems.

it had been a rewarding but draining couple of months.

savannah had seen that, had appreciated you even more because of it, so her and jack had planned this mini-vacation as a thank you for both of their wedding parties. the big day was next week, so this was supposed to be a final relaxing deep breath before the inevitable whirlwind of white lace and dress shoes and pink flowers.

and it would be relaxing, you were sure of it, you wouldn't let it not be, if only because your best friend wanted it to be so adamantly. it would be a perfect weekend vacation, the perfect cruise getaway, the perfect source of pre-wedding bliss.

it would be, it would be all of these things, as long as you stayed as far away from quinn hughes as was humanly possible.

the brother of the groom, the best man, your counterpart in the wedding, whom you had been fairly successful in avoiding whenever possible, all things considered. you'd been in the same friend group for years, after all, since the end of college. years of averted glances, charged comments that you pretended to ignore, of memories that left your cheeks hot and anger hotter.

you hadn't had a major blowout with him yet, and you were confident enough in your self-control to believe you wouldn't start now. you'd never been confined on a boat with him before, though, hadn't been stuck in a room with him without an escape plan, so that would present a new challenge.

what was every day in the periphery of quinn, though, if not a new challenge? a challenge more devastatingly taxing with each passing moment?

as you and your best friend boarded the ship together, you hoped that you could postpone seeing him for as long as possible. maybe if you stayed in your room the whole weekend, you wouldn't have to see him at all. wouldn't that be fun?

savannah dropped her stuff and told you she was going to find jack, leaving you to unpack your things and enjoy some moments of silence before what would surely be a tornado of a weekend.

unfortunately, as you folded your clothes and organized them in drawers, your mind wandered, with nothing to focus on but your anxieties. your anxiety, personified, in a broad, shaggy-haired, soft-featured best man.

you sighed, as you often did when you thought of quinn, because no, it hadn't always been this way. there had been a single, lovely, dreamy night during which the two of you hadn't hated each other. quite the opposite, actually.

it felt sort of unfair that, even now, years later, he could still evoke such a visceral feeling in you, a kind of hatred you felt in your stomach, a kind of shame that rattled through your skull, a regret that set your chest ablaze. and as much as it pained you to think it, it felt sort of unfair that savannah was getting married to jack, because you had known quinn first. it had been you and quinn, first.

it had been you and quinn, both of you at the just-off-campus bar alone, waiting for your respective friends to show up. you had spotted him across the room, his pretty face made so angelic by the hazy neon light. he had spotted you too, had been so unapologetic about letting his gaze settle in the pockets of your exposed collarbones, then flickering up to meet your careful eyes slowly, heatedly.

it had been you and quinn, in a back booth, once he'd bought you a beer and motioned for you to join him, a precise but easy tilt of his head in invitation. on that waxy bench seat, as time passed, you grew much closer together than you could have made a real excuse for, until the outside of your thigh was pressed up against his, until he angled his shoulder back so you could lean your side on his chest, until there was really no question as to where the night was going to go. where it was going to end.

until he rewrote the script you'd assumed into place, too, because when you talked with him for that hour or so, drinks practically forgotten on the table, friends absolutely forgotten, he wasn't like the one-night-onlys you'd had in the past.

he was pretty, sure, almost embarrassingly so, but he spoke to you so gently, with such care, it stunned you.

when he asked you about your day, you were shocked to find completely genuineness in his gaze.

when you asked about his friends, when they were showing up, you couldn't help but feel a little endeared by his short laugh. "athletes," he told you, then, "most unreliable people on the planet, doll, swear it."

it had been you and quinn, basically melting into each other, in that booth, and it had been you and quinn, at his place, after. when you'd discovered that he tasted like something citrusy, maybe grapefruit, from whatever he'd been drinking, when you'd felt his rough hands on your face, your hips, when his voice had grown low and husky and brutal, barely pausing for even a moment when he pushed into you for the first time, so overwhelmingly deep and hard.

he'd been so gentle, yet undeniable, so tender, but he'd said things that now made you blush.

he'd been the best fuck of your life, somehow also the kind of person you'd truly, genuinely, been able to see yourself developing a relationship with. you'd thought he was a once in a lifetime kind of person.

you'd left his place early that morning to get to class, kissed his shoulder softly in goodbye while he slept soundly.

little did you know that, that next night, savannah would meet jack, who was out with quinn. as such, savannah would introduce you to jack.

"this is my brother, quinn," jack would say to you, eventually, and your eyes would soften at the sight of him as you turned.

you would open your mouth to say something along the lines of oh, we've already met, but then quinn would extend a hand to you.

"nice to meet you," he'd say, stony, cold, and you'd narrow your eyes, search his gaze for anything humorous, come up empty. surely he remembered you, right? it was almost worse to imagine that he did remember, that he just didn't want his brother to know about you. it was almost worse to imagine that he thought you were something to be hidden.

so you'd swallow a breath that felt like a forbidden pill, stare at his outstretched hand with something like disgust.

"yeah, you too," you'd bite out, your hands remaining at your sides, hoping his empty hand felt awkward enough to hurt. "really nice."

so, as much as it had been you and quinn, starry-eyed in a back booth, as much as it had been you and quinn, tangled up in each other as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep, as much as it had been you and quinn, first -

it had also been you, embarrassed and ashamed, and quinn, expressionless and indifferent.

so, what did that night really matter, however life-altering you had thought it to be? he obviously didn't feel the same way. you obviously meant nothing to him.

you had thought that to be a very disappointing end to a chapter. you were ready to move on, but, of course, savannah and jack only grew closer. of course, your friend groups merged. of course, it seemed like you couldn't go more than a few days without an especially painful reminder of exactly how much you weren't wanted, exactly how mistaken you had been.

it had been several years now, and you'd gotten a little better at hiding your feelings, sure, but you wouldn't describe your relationship with quinn as civil. certainly not amicable.

you were both known to have an especially short temper when it came to the other, to become inexplicable hot-headed in their presence. still, no one, not even savannah, you assumed not even jack, knew exactly why. they just assumed you didn't get along. that you were just completely incompatible as people, probably.

now, you took a deep breath, putting the last of your clothes away, zipping up your suitcase and stowing it under your bed. you wouldn't let him ruin this trip for you, you decided in a moment. you would be kind, and lovely, and you'd enjoy the time with your best friends. everything was going to be fine. everything was going to be perfect.

this was the mindset you were carrying with you when you finally made to join everyone else on the deck for a welcome happy hour.

you quickly spotted your group, immediately locking eyes with your other best friend, lexi, who must have just arrived.

she squealed and pulled you in for a hug. "it's been too long," she whined, and you laughed.

"i missed you," you said, and you meant it. for the longest time, it had been you, savannah, and lexi, a trio for the majority of your time at university. guys came and went (for the most part), your circle expanded into friends from classes and clubs and sororities and such, but the three of you were inseparable.

it still felt weird that you didn't get to see them every day, with all of you at different places, some working, some in school. it felt weird that the real world still spun even if you three weren't cackling on the way into a lecture, whispering about lacrosse boy when he walked into a party, whining about midterms in the dining hall. it felt weird to grow up.

"i want to hear about school," you said as you pulled away from her embrace. "tell me everything."

"what, no hug for me, eh?"

you rolled your eyes, immediately recognizing that overconfident voice as jack's best friend.

"hello, nico," you said, sugary-sweet, mustering up a smile. "how's daddy's money treating you?" you didn't like nico, not really, found that he hadn't changed at all since school.

nico wasn't like quinn, though, he never took what you said in a heavy way. he just laughed, and his eyes shone with it. "business is thriving, thanks for asking," he said.

"so humble," came quinn's grumbly voice, somewhere on the line between light-hearted fun and genuine disapproval. you wondered briefly if nico had any more luck reading quinn than you did.

"oh, that's what they say," nico responded, running a hand through his longer dark hair. "the humblest around."

you caught up with lexi about medical school, learned it was somehow even more draining than she expected.

"i wouldn't be able to tell for a second," you assured her, gesturing to your face. "you look insanely well-rested. glowing, practically."

lexi waved you off, but she looked pleased. "don't lie," she chastised, "i wake up everyday and look like i got run over by a truck."

she told you about her classes, and her classmates, and her professors, and you listened intently, always interested to hear about situations you had no experience in.

"sounds hectic," you said, finally, blowing out a breath.

"eh, you know how it is," she responded with a shrug. just then, luke, jack's younger brother, arrived, looking especially disheveled, but you knew him well enough by now to understand that was just how he looked.

he was greeted with hugs and handshakes by everyone.

"you're so big, now," you said, almost teasingly, as you pulled him in for a hug.

he swatted at you, good-naturedly. "lay off, would you?" he said, but when he smiled it was genuine. "not a baby."

you knocked your hip against his, anyways. "happy you're here," you told him.

out of all of jack's groomsmen, you supposed luke was the clear frontrunner for your favorite. nico, the narcissistic playboy, was out of the running, and so was quinn, for obvious reasons.

even without those two, though, you'd developed a soft spot for the youngest of the hugheses. he was a couple of years your junior, but surprisingly mature and well-spoken. he was into football, like you were, too, and had invited you to join his fantasy league before he even knew you that well. now, years later, he came to you for girl advice and you thought of him as the younger brother you never had.

"me, too," luke responded, his eyes alight. when you looked away from him, however, you felt another gaze on your side like a blistering burn, were barely surprised to find quinn's rocky eyes on your side, somewhere between your hip and waist.

his attention sparked something dangerously flammable inside of you, an anger that felt like being coated in lighter fluid.

if quinn had been beautiful the day you'd met him, he was devastating, now, having aged in a subtle way that only enhanced his features, made his jaw sharper, cheekbones more prominent. his hair was a soft shag of brown, curling onto his forehead, at the nape of his neck, the tops of his ears. he'd filled out a bit, too, wider in the chest, softer in the middle. if you had to describe to someone your type, you figured you'd get maybe ten seconds in before realizing you were just describing quinn.

now, his eyes met yours in a clash of flame and ancient rock, immovable and disastrous.

coward, you seemed to say without words, mean, rude, coward.

and, as always, he seemed to say absolutely nothing.

you were being kind, though, you were being lovely, so you just rolled your eyes and made to join savannah and lexi as they chatted by the bar.

the sun set over the distant sky line, making the sea ripple purple and orange as music played from the deck, as more and more people seemed to gather, as drinks flowed easier and voices grew louder.

you caught up with luke about his last year of school, listened to nico talk about his last girlfriend (who he insisted was really, truly crazy, as he had claimed about the last girl, and the one before that), asked jack about how work was going and savannah how her cats were doing. you were including everyone, you were being a wonderful maid of honor, you were being kind and lovely, all while quinn remained oddly quiet, talking only when directly addressed, every now and then looking at you with an intensity that made you dizzy.

what are you doing? you wanted to scream at him, you're not allowed to look at me!

he didn't seem to particularly care about your unspoken wishes, anyways, though you supposed he never had. he just took small sips from his fruity cocktail, and you pretended not to notice how it made his pouty lips more pink, like he was wearing a shimmery gloss. you hated yourself for the way your stomach flipped at the sight.

"so, how's your week been, q?" luke asked him, eventually, taunting him with a smile. "awfully quiet over there. what're you hiding?"

and you shouldn't have done it, it was not very lovely and kind of you, but you gave a light scoff at this. because you knew just how good quinn was a hiding things. people, even.

of course, he noticed. he seemed to notice just about everything, when it came to you, ever the perceptive observer. it was something you'd adored about him, for a night.

"what?" quinn bit out, and he wasn't looking at luke, instead looking directly at you. "got something to say, doll?"

you felt your eye twitch, only just barely, because out of all of his mannerisms and actions that drove you absolutely crazy, this one might be your least favorite. how, after all this time, he still rarely called you anything but doll.

how, now, it was said with such condescending distaste, when it had once been 'm dyin' to kiss you, doll, murmured in a bedroom doorframe. when it had once been give me one more, doll, hm? be good for me, hot against your temple.

"nothing, quinn," you said, with a smile that felt more similar to baring teeth, his name some malicious hex. "don't worry about it."

there was a brief pause charged with meaning, his slate-like eyes boring into yours.

you were the first to look away, to look down at your hand before he finally answered luke's question, went into some noncommittal explanation about work.

eventually, somehow, the conversation veered towards wedding dates.

"wait," savannah said, pausing as if having trouble understanding. "you're telling me that out of all of you, both wedding parties, the only one with a plus-one is luke? and it's not even a date?"

"mackie still counts," luke said, shrugging. "no one said we weren't allowed to bring friends."

"regardless," savannah said, exasperated. "how did this happen?"

nico grinned. "not all of us can be so easily tied down, sav," he said with a wink, to which you and lexi groaned.

"oh, what?" nico retorted, looking at the two of you, "if it really matters, i'll bring a date. hell, i'll bring four dates."

you shook your head vigorously. "do not bring four dates. please do not bring four dates."

"do not make our wedding an episode of the bachelor, nico," savannah warned. "but you guys should bring someone!" her eyes grew wide with excitement. "you could even find someone on the boat!"

lexi whistled.

"do we really want a bunch of strangers at our wedding?" jack mused, joking.

"oh, hush," savannah said, laying a hand on his forearm.

he smiled. "you're right," he conceded, "not like this lot could find dates anyways."

the only people who seemed especially opposed to jack's judgement were nico and lexi.

you just shrugged. you didn't really want to bring a date to the wedding, because you didn't have a serious boyfriend, right now, and you didn't want to invite someone you weren't serious about. you could find a date, sure, it wouldn't be too hard, but that would just be another person to entertain for a night during which you were already going to be pulled in a million different directions.

"okay, so lex and nico are going to find dates," savannah said, then turned to you, "what about you?"

"i'm good, sav," you said, plainly, cordially, with a smile that she returned. you knew that she just wanted you to be happy, and that it probably hurt her to imagine you lonely.

"or you, quinn?" savannah continued.

you fixed your eyes on him, too, as did the rest of the table. as much as you maybe shouldn't have been, you were straining to hear his answer.

"yeah, didn't you say you were thinking of bringing someone? what was her name, again?" jack asked, snapping his fingers as if trying to summon his memory.

terrible envy bubbled through your veins, thick and green, at the mention of quinn wanting someone who wasn't you. at the reminder that he was fully capable of wanting someone, he just hadn't wanted you.

quinn's eyes flashed with something dangerous. "i never told you i was thinking of bringing someone," he told his brother, sounding almost annoyed, his tone sharp.

jack's half-smile told you he knew something you didn't. "my bad," he said, "must've forgotten."

quinn's full mouth twitched to the side, almost undetectable, but of course you noticed. he looked almost angry that jack had suggested that he bring a date. there was the faintest pink across his nose, too, as if he was almost embarrassed.

something heavy settled in your chest, made your throat tight, because you knew what it was like to be embarrassed in a group. to want something so adamantly and have it go the other way in front of your eyes.

as if pulled by some magnetic force, some power fueled by history and shed tears, quinn's eyes briefly met yours, like you were the calm in some hurricane, like you tethered him to the world. for a second, you remembered just what it felt like to be his. just how consuming it was.

but you weren't his, you reminded yourself. so, of course, the anger followed, along with a bloodthirsty self-loathing at your momentary protection of him, your fleeting feelings of sympathy.

you weren't his, and yet he was looking at you now like he was begging you to do something.

"you know what, sav?" you said, although you were looking right at quinn, "changed my mind. think i'll bring a date, actually."

it was quinn's turn to scoff, which had rage rolling in your head like high tide. "yeah, right," he said. "you haven't been with someone in years, doll."

you furrowed your brow, because that just wasn't true, flat out. did quinn actually think you hadn't been with guys since you'd had him?

lexi was the one to laugh. "what're you on about, quinn?" she said. "what planet have you been living on?"

"you think i call you up as soon as i scratch another notch in my bedpost?" you asked, incredulous. "course i've been with guys."

a million emotions rumbled through his eyes like a slow-building earthquake, which made realization spark in your head.

"unless," you started, "unless you haven't been with-"

"i'll bet that you don't end the weekend with a date, then," quinn said, cutting you off as you'd gotten dangerously close to saying something incriminating, something he didn't want others to know.

it took no convincing from you to agree to his bet, even if nico and luke were nudging you on. "you're on," you said, your voice lower than you anticipated.

he hummed, ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, cocked his head in a way that made your nerves spring to life. "and what do i get when i win?"

he said the words like he knew exactly how you'd take them. in a way that made everything else fade away, for a moment, made you forget your audience of friends, made the music lull to a halt in your ears, made the massive deck of this boat feel altogether too small.

"what do you want?" you asked, almost blushed at how rough your voice sounded, promptly cleared your throat again.

his heavy gaze dropped to your mouth, making warning sirens blare in your head. making you so, so angry.

"decide the terms later," jack said, obviously done with this topic, which really only concerned you and quinn, "deal or no deal?"

quinn extended a hand to you in answer, which you stared at for a second, suddenly delirious with deja vu. remembering when he had last went looking for a handshake.

this time, though, you took it, squeezed it so tight you hoped it hurt, although he didn't even wince, held eye contact with you the entire time.

"eager to lose, eh, doll?" he asked, his eyes shining.

"you know me," you said, then, "just so eager." knowing exactly how he would take it. in a way that had his eyes glazing over, just a bit, perhaps had phantom breaths of please, quinn, give me all of it echoing in his mind.

and so your weekend getaway began with a wager.

still, you didn't want your heightening anger towards quinn to take over your vacation, so, the following day, you went about your way as you had been planning on.

you ate breakfast with lexi, explored the boat with sav and luke, finally settled down to read by the pool in the late afternoon.

the sun was bright and big in the sky, so you untied the straps of your swimsuit, so as to avoid tan lines. time passed as you flipped pages, engrossed in your book, until you felt the heat on your body like a scratchy sweater.

at some point, you felt a figure next to you, a big body with a face you couldn't see until you brought a hand up to shield your eyes.

the man blocking the sun from you was a little jarring in his beauty, you realized. handsome in a very different way than what you were usually attracted to. he had curly, curly hair, almost red in the light, a symmetrical face, a prominent gap in his two front teeth that you had the sneaking suspicion he used to his advantage.

he had you smiling up at him, nonetheless. "can i help you, handsome?" you asked.

his mouth quirked at your words as his features settled into a theatrical expression. "you're sweet, princess, but i was actually hoping to help you."

you hummed, bent one knee up until the sole of your foot rested flat on your lounge chair. "were you, now?" maybe this whole finding a wedding date business was going to be even easier than you initially thought.

the handsome stranger squatted down until his hips rested back on his heels, until he was eye level with you. like he didn't want to look down at you. like you were even lovelier head on. he raised a wide hand to one side of his mouth, as if telling you some great secret at a cafeteria lunch table. "just wanted to warn you that your straps are untied," he whispered, gesturing with his other hand to his own shoulders. his smirk told you that he knew it was intentional.

you made no move to retie them, let out a small laugh. "my knight in shining armor, hm?"

his shoulders rose and fell in a telling chuckle. "either that or i just wanted an excuse to come over here," he said. "'m matthew."

"'m flattered, matthew," you said, then gave him your own name. "you don't seem like a guy who needs an excuse, though."

his smirk grew wide. "what do i seem like, then, princess?"

you tilted your head to the side, thought for a moment. "don't know," you admitted, "got the smile of a charmer, though, give you that."

matthew appeared about to respond, but was cut off by the approach of a figure to the other side of your chair, standing at full height, looking down at you and your new acquaintance.

a figure you'd know in the dark, a presence you'd sense while unconscious. quinn drew both of your attention, but said nothing. you pursed your lips.

"what's up, man?" said matthew, maybe a little unsure, in a tone that sort of felt like he was making fun of quinn. "all good?" he didn't push back up to his full height, which you found hilarious and endearing. how he didn't seem even the tiniest bit threatened by quinn, when it was so painfully obvious that he was trying so hard to appear threatening.

you peered up at him, found his blatant discomfort and indecision especially unsettling. "what do you want, quinn?" you asked, annoyance creeping into your voice like moss on a damp rock.

"you know this guy?" matthew said, his grin that of a class clown.

"do you know this guy, doll?" quinn retorted, crossing his arms over his chest, and you rolled your eyes, set your book down beside you.

"quinn, this is matthew," you said, gesturing between the two of them. "matthew, quinn."

quinn didn't move, but matthew's smile grew taunting as he extended his hand out for a handshake.

a handshake that quinn just stared at, briefly, did not make a move to reciprocate, his gaze so solid, relentlessly cold. you could have slapped him, if you didn't have an audience.

matthew just laughed, retracted his hand, finally stood up. "well, i guess i'll be seeing you around, princess," he said, looking right at you.

"until then, matthew," you responded, an easy smile on your face.

he gave you one last charismatic smile before looking to quinn again. "you've been a treat, quinn," he said, little more than a chuckle, raising a hand in goodbye before turning and walking away.

when he was out of ear shot, you looked up at quinn, ignoring the way the sun lit up the high points of his face. "so," you began, dangling one leg off of your chair, pulling the other up to your chest. "when did you officially lose your goddamn mind?"

he scrunched his mouth to the side as if tasting something sour. "haven't gone crazy," he said, basically a grumble, "thought he was bothering you."

you laughed, genuinely, from your stomach.

"what?" he said, and it was sharp, heavy.

"babe, is this guy bothering you?" you said, imitating a comically deep masculine voice before returning to your usual tone. you retied the straps of your swimsuit, not looking at him. "get real. since when do you give a fuck about me?"

he didn't answer, just shifted on his feet slightly, which made the muscles of his thighs tense. you could feel his anger building, looming like some poisonous cloud around the two of you. he was flushed, and you had a feeling it was some lethal combination of embarrassment and fury. it made his eyes almost glow, made his shoulders clench with strain.

"jesus, don't hurt yourself," you said, eyeing the tension that radiated from his body. "not a good look on you."

this made him intimidating, somehow, made the difference in height between the two of you feel substantial, significant. "really, doll?" he said, with a bite that you could taste. history made its stinging presence known between the two of you, made the air sizzle. "don't like me like this?"

you wanted to punch him the stomach, made him hunch over, bring him to your level so he didn't feel so high and mighty. who was he, now, to hint at your history? when he had denied it so grossly before?

you were not the one in the wrong here, you remembered, he was the one who had approached you.

"no," you said, through clenched teeth, "no, quinn, i don't like you jealous."

this seemed to set his anger loose, as you had expected it to, his fists now tight at his sides. "i am not jealous," he said, slowly, almost scarily. "maybe if you weren't showing yourself off like a-"

you stood up, then, your pulse in your ears, your heart in your throat. you laid a warning hand on his chest, the closest you'd been in a long time. "oh, you aren't really about to call me a slut, are you, quinn?" you warned, like a storm siren.

his gaze shot down to your hand before returning to your unwavering eyes again.

"are you?" you pressed, with the strength of practiced patience. he still said nothing, which made you want to pound your fists on his chest, get him to say something, anything. how tired and frustrated you were of his silence. "where do you get off playing tough-guy savior, anyways?" you continued. "you've got no say in who i talk to, just because you've been celibate, apparently, which is absolutely insane-"

"'m not playing anything," was his short response, which had you fuming.

"you're no tough guy, quinn," you said, "you're a coward."

your eyes widened when his smoldered, as he brought a hand up to your face, swiped his warm thumb across your jawline. you would have smacked his hand away, you swore it, but you were lost for a moment, drowning in the touch you'd craved for longer than you cared to admit. "and you're desperate, doll," he breathed, like some terrible caress, "where does that leave us?"

his words barreled through you like a battering ram, cruel and sadistic. because what were you most ashamed of, if not seeming desperate to his indifferent? what were you questioning most, if not where that left you?

it had been you and quinn, first. could you truly say it had ever been over?

he dropped his hand from your face, leaving you cold, lacking, all over again. leaving your breath coming out a little bit short, your lips slightly parted. because as much as his words cut through you like a dagger to the chest, he said them with such softness, such warmth.

making it so painfully clear in your mind just how much you still wanted him, even if he drove you mad. even if he was exactly the reason behind so many of your fears.

"i hate you," you said, but of course you didn't mean it.

"i hate you," he said, but of course he was lying.

your body and mind were still buzzing, practically alight, that night, when sav and jack decided your whole group should go out, try the ship's nightclub on for a few hours.

and you probably would have politely declined, in any other scenario. you didn't go out that much now, not like you did in school, at least. in recent history, you'd found yourself much more attracted to a night in on the couch than a bass-boosted speaker in your ear. however, you supposed, you wouldn't be able to really relax tonight, anyways, not when your blood felt hot in your body, when your fingertips felt as if they were laced with electrical currents.

you felt almost ill with energy, crazed with some awful mixture of shame and desire and annoyance and disgust.

and you sort of hated yourself for how practically demented quinn's touch made you feel, how deranged his undivided attention made you.

it was so, so unfair, and you wished it wouldn't be true. but it was, so you figured you might as well use this energy while you had it, might as well lean heavily into this version of yourself. this version of yourself, whose emotions were blown up, heightened to a magnificent level.

this you, who felt embarrassment like rosy handcuffs around her wrists, who felt want like a leaden crown, satisfaction like a bubbly drink, displeasure like a hand around your neck. who felt danger and challenge like some intoxicating drug.

it was this you who pulled on a tight, short dress, who spent a few more minutes than usual lining and glossing your lips. maybe it wasn't the most level-headed you'd ever been, sure, but you couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so utterly alive.

"holy shit," lexi said when she opened her door, found you waiting to walk down with her, "you look insane."

you smiled. "good insane or insane insane?"

lexi grabbed her small bag and shut the door behind her. "oh, please," she said, waving you off. "almost forgot that you're workin' with all that," she added, which made you laugh.

once the two of you made your way inside, you looked around for your friends, quickly spotted luke sitting at a table with sav and jack.

sav whistled at the two of you as you approached. "holy smokes," she said.

"oh, stop it," lexi teased, making to sit down next to her.

you just leaned on the side of luke's stool, knocked your shoulder into his. "past your bedtime, eh?" you joked.

he rolled his eyes, smiled. "what brings you out of your cave?" he mused. he knew how much it took for you to venture from your room.

you just shrugged. "what if i just wanted to see you?"

he gave a disbelieving shake of his head before tilting it up to look at you head on. "heard you and q had quite the blowout at the pool."

you narrowed your eyes. "wouldn't call it a blowout," you said, and you meant it, because you could have done so much worse. "who told you that, anyways?"

he scoffed. "who do you think?"

you scrunched up your face. you knew how close quinn and luke were, but, somehow, it still surprised you that he had told anyone about what had happened at the pool. it felt weird that, after refusing to acknowledge what had happened between you, he'd tell luke anything about you.

it made you wonder just how much he had disclosed, if luke knew much more than he was letting on.

"what did he tell you?" you asked, curiosity overtaking any of your discipline.

the youngest hughes just gave you a big grin, though, like he'd caught you in something. "i forget," he said, and you hit him lightly on the arm.

you turned your attention back to the table. "where's nico?" you asked, as he was the only one from the group you hadn't really seen that day. you didn't ask where quinn was, even though you really, really wanted to know. was he even here? did he stay in his room, like you had wanted to?

jack gestured vaguely. "haven't seen him since we got here."

"'s probably pretty busy," sav added, "i think the last time i saw him he was up to three wedding dates."

lexi groaned while you hid your face in luke's shoulder for a second.

you sighed, then pushed yourself out of your lean.

"where're you going?" luke asked you.

"to save the feminine population of this cruise ship from hurricane nico," you answered, before patting the top of his head and making for the bar.

the music was louder, away from the tables and closer to the dance floor, crowded with people in bold colors and daring cuts.

you leaned forward on the counter, raised a hand to catch the bartender's attention. the man with the platinum buzzcut nodded to you to signal that he'd be right there.

"how'd you escape your keeper?" a goofy voice said from beside you, and you recognized the confident tone before you even turned.

"good to see you again, matthew," you said, peering up at him with an easy smile. "and i have my ways."

"i don't doubt that, princess, i don't doubt that," he conceded, his grin revealing that gap between his front teeth.

"thanks for waiting," the bartender said, now in front of you two, adjusting his black bowtie. "to drink?"

"two of whatever she's having," matthew said.

"vodka soda, please," you clarified, opening your mouth to protest when matthew wouldn't let you pay.

"let me get this one, hm?" he asked, and he was so steady you knew he wouldn't budge.

you blew out a breath like you were annoyed, but the thought was sweet. "fine," you said, "just this once. thank you."

"anytime," was his immediately reply as the bartender dropped the two glasses in front of each of you.

"thank you," you said to the blonde, eyes searching for his name tag, "elias."

he gave a curt nod in response before being summoned by another patron.

you turned, now leaned your back against the bar counter, crossed an ankle over the other as you again looked at matthew.

"did i mention how beautiful you look?" he said, a lazy smirk on his face, telling you he'd used this line before. it brought a delighted flush to your cheeks, nonetheless.

"that one's a heater," you said, "bet it works on all the girls." you took a sip from your cold glass, found it strong and sharp.

"not all of 'em, apparently," he said, and you let out a laugh.

you chatted pleasantly with matthew for a while, your mission to find nico long forgotten.

fortunately, at some point, you were surprised to see nico himself approach the two of you where you stood, his gait as overconfident as his expression.

"who's this guy?" matthew whispered, his breath hot by your ear as he leaned down. you shivered, could feel his sly smile.

"a clown," you whispered back.

matthew hummed. "you seem to know a lot of those, eh, princess?"

and it shocked you, sort of, how part of you jumped to defend quinn. how part of you wanted to explain to matthew, however stupidly, that quinn wasn't a clown, he wasn't dumb, he wasn't like nico.

what did it matter if this almost stranger thought quinn was an idiot? hadn't he made a fool of himself just today?

"hey, nico," you said, when he was close enough. "meant to look for you." your side glance had you locking eyes with matthew again, warm and inviting. "got distracted."

"no worries at all, no worries at all," nico responded, "i've just been sent over by a certain quinn hughes to see what was going on here, but, as he should have known, i am no errand boy." he gave matthew a knowing look. "and you seem like a great guy." nico's mouth gave an impressed sort of scrunch. "good face, too."

"i like this guy much more," matthew said, elbowing you gently, although you were having a bit of a hard time focusing.

because you'd warned quinn about leaving you be, warned him that he had absolutely and completely forfeited any opinion to be had about your life. and yet, just hours later, apparently, he hadn't learned his lesson.

"where is he?" you bit out, and you had a feeling your smile looked menacing. at least menacing enough to make nico do a double take. "eh, over there," he said, motioning over to the dance floor.

sure enough, your eyes caught on quinn's broad figure, practically indistinguishable from the one close to him, the girl he was dancing with. you rolled your eyes, turned to matthew with sympathy.

he seemed to be anticipating your words, if his slightly disappointed sigh was anything to go by. "well, the keeper calls," he joked, and his easy-going smile made you feel almost sick.

because here was this lovely person, right in front of you, so obvious about his attraction to you. and yet, you were walking away from him. the very thought made anger thrum within you.

"i'm sorry," you said, and it was genuine.

matthew gave a one-shouldered shrug. "don't be," he said, "i'm lucky i even got to see you in that dress." he winked at you before turning to walk away.

you were silent for a moment, blinking.

nico, who'd you'd forgotten had even been there, blew out a breath. "hell," he said, shaking his head, "that guy was a smoke."

"how many dates are you at?" you said, your eyeline still firmly on quinn, on the beautiful blonde girl he was dancing with. you stirred your halfway empty drink.

nico shrugged. "lost track," he said, "why? wanna borrow one?"

"maybe later," you said, then pushed yourself from the counter and began to make your way across the room.

the walk felt much longer than it was, as if a chasm had opened up between you and quinn, jagged rocks lining the walls, some treacherous river running through your legs, drenching your heels.

the walk felt longer than it was, but then you were in front of quinn, and the beautiful girl.

you tapped her on the shoulder, first. "could you move to the side for a second, babe?" you asked, completely apologetic. "don't wanna ruin your dress."

her features scrunched in confusion, but she stepped to the side, as you'd asked. you shot her a grateful look before turning to face quinn, meeting his eye.

you were almost shocked to find warmth, there, so unlike the stony coldness you'd expected from him.

still, you just gave him a facetious smile, short, snarky, before tossing the remnants of your drink at him.

it hit him square in the face, better aimed than you could have hoped. liquid dripped from the strong slope of his nose, down his jaw, soaking his white button down near the collar.

the blonde gasped, brought a hand to her mouth in shock.

you turned briefly to her. "'m sorry for the interruption," you said, genuinely. "you look gorgeous."

as quinn ran a slow hand down his face, wiping alcohol from his forehead, cheeks, you hummed and began to walk away, your stride satisfied as you made for the exit.

you dropped your glass on a table, walked through the doorway, onto the deck of the ship, the darkness of the night, sudden quiet a welcomed change of pace.

you had only just taken a breath when you felt a grip on your wrist, firm but not painful.

"just fuck off, won't you, quinn?" you said, just about done for the night. he just pulled you aside, boxed you against the railing on the deck, the noise of the sea in harmony with the faded beat of the club's mix.

you were so, so, done. you hadn't really wanted to come out, anyways, and then, when you were finally having a good time, he had to go and ruin it, send nico over to check in on you, like you needed some kind of babysitter.

he scoffed, a sound that felt beautiful in your ears, somehow. "think you can just walk away, after a stunt like that?" he said the words like they meant something deeper than just their surface meaning, but you couldn't, for the life of you, figure it out.

you blew out a breath, met his gaze directly.

you probably should have known by now that if there was one word to describe quinn, it was unfair.

unfair, how, drenched in a drink you tossed at him, he still looked this pretty. his hair damp, evident that he had run his hands through it. his features almost enhanced by the liquid that shone on them, his shirt practically sheer, now, drawing attention to his broad chest, corded shoulders. unfair.

maybe you had been wrong. maybe you couldn't handle this weekend. you'd been able to escape him before, for years, always had an easy out during gatherings with friends, always had something else to focus on.

he was everywhere here. he was unavoidable. he was inside your head, whispering in your ear. he was a phantom grapefruit taste on your tongue.

here, you were basically back in his bed, two years ago, back in that bar booth. here, you were surrounded by him.

"you sent nico to spy on me," you said, each word pronounced perfectly clear. you clenched your fists tight as if to restrain them. "how many times do i need to tell you, quinn? who i fuck is none of your business!"

he let out a noise that was half-growl. "you wanted him?" he asked, low and loaded, so painfully so it made your stomach drop.

"what does it matter?" you said. "i can't even speak to someone on this boat, apparently, without you breathing down my neck!"

"it matters," was his reply, spoken so softly, with a cutting bite. "it matters, doll."

you narrowed your eyes, searched his face for some clue. droplets of liquid still clung to his lashes, making his gaze impossibly beautiful.

"it shouldn't," you said, careful. "i'm desperate, remember?" your eyes widened in false despair. "don't you remember, quinn?"

his gaze dropped momentarily to your mouth, hung there just long enough for you to notice. "i remember," he said, so gently it shocked you. like he wasn't just talking about today.

the sea air suddenly felt hot, despite the windy chill. you were acutely aware of how close he was to you, his arms on either side of your waist, boxing you against the railing, his bent knee just barely grazing yours. the warmth of him like a radiator, the smell of him overwhelming.

"enough with the overprotective act," you demanded, willing any shake from your voice. "it has to stop, quinn, i can't do it."

"you can't do it?" he asked, calculated, incredulous. "you can't do it?"

you let out an exasperated huff. "what are you saying?" you pleaded. "jesus, fuck, quinn, all you do is stare and stare and stare and say nothing!"

"what am i supposed to say?" he said, gesturing vaguely around. "what could i ever say to you?"

"maybe try something true!" you said. "give that a shot!" your volume was much too loud, and there were probably people around, but you didn't really care, couldn't even register their presence. as always, with him, no one else seemed to matter, to even exist.

you could feel his chest rise and fall against yours for a moment, a pause so thick it almost felt suffocating. "it hurts to look at you," he said, finally.

and it would have been mean, would have been some cheap shot at calling you ugly, if his voice hadn't broken halfway through. if it hadn't seemed to be the hurt that was really the point.

his arms at your sides felt like something scandalous.

"and yet all you do is stare," you said, almost drowsily. "must be doin' a whole lot of hurting, over there."

something that felt like truth rose and fell between the two of you, light as the salty breeze, dark as the deep water below.

"does it hurt, now?" you breathed, your face so close to his as you peered up at him through your lashes.

his exhale felt like a million words, all jumbled up, offered up to you on a silver platter. he looked almost haggard. "so much, doll," he practically whined, and you wanted to taste his confession on your tongue, wanted to know what his honesty felt like on your lips. if it would feel the same as it did those years ago, if it would feel better.

you raised a careful, delicate hand to his damp face, brushed your fingertips along his hairline, slowly, almost mesmerized. he looked so beautiful, then, the faint light of the deck in contrast with the night making his face angelic in a terrible sort of way. "tell me you hate me," you said, little more than a whisper.

he gave an almost undetectable shake of his head, a rogue lock of hair curling into his face. "i can't," he said, soft, pulled into a trance by your ghost of a touch.

his full lips were so close to yours, and you angled your head slightly to made room for him, wanted all of him just so badly-

"no!" came a loud protesting voice that you immediately recognized as savannah. "do not throw her overboard!"

the two of you bolted apart from each other, a few feet between you, now. your pulse was still a pounding thud in your head, though, your body a sack of candy conversation hearts in all of its deliriousness.

you supposed it would look fairly suspicious, quinn so close to you, his hands so close to you, against the railing of the ship. maybe it did look like he was going to toss you over the edge. you could have laughed at how ridiculous the reality was.

savannah now stood in front of the two of you. you couldn't look at quinn, deathly afraid of what you would find if you did.

"what the hell was that, in there?" savannah demanded, gesturing wildly to where she had come from. she fixed her eyes on you. "since when are you a drink-thrower?"

you mumbled something like since a few minutes ago, i guess.

she huffed, turned to quinn. "and i hear you're sending nico on errands to do your dirty work for you?"

quinn looked at his feet, shifted his weight slightly. "wouldn't call it dirty work," he grumbled.

your best friend took a deep breath. "i understand that you guys don't really get along," she said, evenly.

quinn's gaze shot to you for a second, but you didn't return his attentive stare. you have no idea, you wanted to tell savannah.

"and i guess i should have known better than to trap you guys on a boat for a weekend, but you're adults! and the wedding is in less than a week," she continued, not angry but obviously frustrated. "i'm the one who's supposed to have a meltdown on wedding day, okay? not you two."

"sorry, sav," you said, and you felt bad, really.

she waved her hand. "it's my fault, too," she said, "just, i don't know, sleep this off and tomorrow you'll be able to get off this boat. think we're docking for a few hours, or something."

you sighed, snuck one last look at quinn like a last bite of a shared dessert. evidence of emotion just barely hid under his casual mask, evidence of being affected by you.

"i'll do better, okay?" you said, just to savannah, as you passed her, pulled her in for a quick hug in apology. "i promise."

she hugged you back. "i know it's not just you," she whispered into you ear. "and i trust you."

you nodded, squeezed her a last time before making the trek back up to your room. you passed jack, waiting just off to the side, keeping an eye on savannah, presumably.

"goodnight," you said to him, giving him a feeble wave.

he offered you a smile. "don't tell him i said this," he whispered, "that was one of the best things i've seen in my life."

you rolled your eyes at him as he bid you a returning goodnight.

you spotted lexi, sitting at a table just outside of the club entrance, your eyes widening when you recognized the blonde in her lap as the girl quinn had been dancing with. you smiled, slightly. they looked lost in conversation. they looked good together.

as you turned the corner to the stairwell, you almost jumped, then brought a hand to your heart, let out an alarmed exhale before recognizing nico, making out with a girl against the stair railing in an almost violent way.

you tried to squeeze past the two of them, eventually giving him a light shove. "move, nico," you whisper-yelled at him.

when you finally got past him and up the stairs, you were only a few steps from your door, finally closing yourself back into your room, exhaling a heavy breath, slipping off your heels.

you didn't quite make it to your bed, instead opting to fold a leg underneath you on the floor, lean back against the side of the mattress.

you weren't really sure why you suddenly felt that undeniable pressure on your waterline, that heat at the edges of your face that signaled coming tears.

the breeze through your window was a calming chill as you ran your palms up and down your thighs, trying to bring your breathing back to normal.

it felt like your heart was ten times its normal size, like it was so heavy it was sinking down into your stomach, like an anchor into the ocean waves.

your mind was a flurried rainstorm of quinn's hand on your wrist, his arms by your sides, his chest through his button down. his parted lips, so close to yours, his eyes, so unlike the fixed iciness you'd grown used to from him.

tell me you hate me, you'd asked him, practically begged him, your tone a sinful sort of plea.

i can't, he'd answered, like your request for the truth was some binding promise, like your pure want was some altar-laid sacrifice.

you went to sleep that night jittery, dreamed of slate eyes and stolen touches, glances that meant something stark.

of course, the next day, the last full day of the cruise, your energy had not dissipated. it left you just as uncertain and edgy as ever, because now, you wondered what quinn would do when he saw you.

more probable than not, you knew, he would do nothing. he would probably pretend like, just last night, he hadn't been about to kiss you, like he hadn't confessed to something monumental.

he would probably revert right back to staring, staring, staring, and nothing more. he might even revert back to hating you, for all you knew.

and then there was the part of you, a scary, maybe delusional part of you, that believed that maybe last night had changed something. that maybe he would do more than just look, that maybe you'd do more than just fight, that maybe this time would be different.

oh, how you wanted it to be different.

it had been you and quinn, first. how you wanted it to be you and quinn, now.

at the very least, you thought, as you got ready to leave, you'd have a way out, this time. you were finally getting off the boat, going to the beach for a few hours.

if he got to be too much, you could just walk away, this time, like you had grown used to in the past.

it was this positive outlook that you clung to as you made your way off of the boat, meeting up with luke on the stairs.

"and where were you last night?" you asked, after greeting him, raising a questioning brow.

he gave a playful eye roll. "no where as exciting as you," he said, teasing. "almost getting tossed overboard, and all."

you smacked him lightly on the back of the head. "i did not almost get thrown overboard," you clarified, "i was having a civilized discussion with your brother."

luke hummed. "were you?" he asked, "not quite what i heard."

"when did you become such a gossip, hm?" you pestered, stepping off onto the dock, exhaling with slight relief at the feeling of solid ground underneath your feet.

he shrugged. "people tell me stuff," he said, simply. he didn't have to clarify who people were.

you narrowed your eyes. "how much stuff?"

luke met your gaze, and there was an understanding there that scared you. "enough," he said.

you looked at your feet as you stepped onto the sand, found it warm, calming. "oh, great," you mumbled. you could only imagine what quinn must have said about you. how desperate and deluded you were, how you had gotten so attached to him after a single night, how you'd suddenly grown so malicious towards him as soon as he didn't return your feelings. your head hung, just a bit, because you hated to think that luke, someone you trusted and cared about so much, would think this of you, just from hearing it from quinn. "shocked that you even hang out with me, then, honestly."

you could feel luke's gaze on you like the sun. he cleared his throat, making you look up at him. "think, uh," he began, scratching the back of his neck in a nervous sort of habit. "think maybe you should just talk to him."

you laughed, spotting savannah and jack setting up an umbrella further down the beach. "because that's worked so well for us," you joked, but your heart jumped in your throat. because, oh, how easy it felt to refer to yourself and quinn as an us.

luke just shrugged. "it's worked better than the alternative," he said, putting his towel down before making to help jack with beach chairs.

his words stuck with you, suspended in your mind, for a moment, because he was right. you realized, however painfully, that you would prefer a screaming match with quinn by the pool to silent staring across the room at a gathering with your friends.

you'd take an excruciating argument with him over feigned, false civility any day of the week.

there you stood, your feet in the sand, looking out at the water, and you finally understood that you'd take all of the ugly, all of the hurt, all of the cold, if only it'd give you all of him.

"uh, you good?" sav said, giving you a confused look as she registered your quiet stillness.

you shook yourself from your mind, smiled at her. "all good," you said, and it was true.

lexi joined with the blonde from the night before in tow, whom she announced as erin.

you gave erin a guilty smile when you introduced yourself. "sorry again about last night," you said.

erin waved you off. "don't worry about it," she said, "that was the most dramatic night out i've had in forever."

she set up her towel next to you and lexi, and you quickly found how easy she was to talk to.

nico ambled his way down, at some point, eyes hidden behind massive sunglasses, a baseball cap on his head, a giant hoodie on despite the heat.

jack laughed when he got close enough. "the feds onto you, or something?" he said, referring to nico's ridiculous getup.

nico's pretty face contorted into a scowl. "i'm never drinking again," was his rough reply as he sat down on a towel, practically hissing at the bright light of the sun.

"yeah, right," you laughed. "you said that last time."

"fuck off," nico grumbled, hanging his head between his bent legs.

"oh, don't be mean, nico," savannah said, "it's not our fault you can't hold your tequila."

luke's face scrunched up is distaste. "you were drinking tequila last night?" he asked, "when did you join delta gamma?"

nico made to protest, but you didn't hear it, not really, because you were distracted.

your attention had strayed to where quinn now stood, right beside luke's chair. his approach had been silent, practically stealthy, but he was here, and he was looking at you.

the conversation around you seemed to fade away, to dip down deep below the gentle waves that lapped at the shoreline.

it was still a shock to your system every time you saw him, even though you'd known each other for so long. maybe it was an even greater shock, now, because you weren't quite used to seeing so much of him, of getting so much of him, on back to back to back days.

after being practically starved of him, or at least of his true emotions, this weekend had felt like being drowned in him, held under the water by your throat until your vision swam and your chest was on the edge of exploding.

it didn't help that the way he looked, now, in broad daylight, was so brutally stunning that it stole your breath.

he looked almost weary, the shadows of his face defined and sharp, his jaw rough with stubble. maybe he'd tossed and turned all night, as you had? maybe he'd dreamed of you, too?

your languished gaze caught slowly on his bare arms, returned reluctantly back to his face. he appeared to be just barely on the cusp of, well, something, spurred on by your obvious attention, something alight in his eyes that made your stomach flip.

you felt your cheeks grow hot, bit your lip, slightly. when he was looking at you, like this, you could all but hear his firm rasp in your ear, feel his callused hand tug at your hair.

you looked away, down at your hands, afraid that your eyes were giving too much away, afraid that he could somehow tell exactly what you were thinking, exactly what memories his presence was bringing to mind.

everything felt overheated, and not just because of the sun.

time passed at an agonizing pace. hours during which you could sense when he was looking at you, could feel his stare like a bullet to the heart. during which you would occasionally look back, meet his heated, cryptic eyes, silently beg him to do something, to do anything.

but, for hours, he didn't, and you grew angrier, more fiery with every passing second.

of course he would do nothing, you tried to rationalize, this was quinn you were talking about. this was quinn, in front of all of his friends, so of course he would pretend like you were barely there.

the hurt of it all made you feel almost seasick, woozy and disbelieving, mentally grasping wildly for something to grab on to.

the hurt of him made you seasick, the whole of him made you lovesick, but what did it matter, you thought. at what point were you not just dizzy over him?

"i'm going for a walk," you said, abruptly, getting up and mumbling some affirmation when sav reminded you the boat was leaving soon, so you should hurry back.

the sand shifting under your feet, the pleasant chill of the water at your ankles, you wanted it to calm you down, you wanted your escape plan to calm you down, like it had so many times in the past.

that's what you'd said all weekend, wasn't it? that it had been so hard to be around quinn without a clear way out?

you wanted to scream, felt heat prick behind your eyes, because here you were, walking away, and it didn't feel any easier. you didn't feel any relief, any satisfaction.

he was back there, and you were here, and it didn't look like last night had changed anything, for him. it didn't look like you were as life-altering a person as he was, for you.

the thought made slow, hot tears finally, finally break through. you blinked hard as you continued to walk, the pressure in your head painful, scorching droplets hanging onto your throat before falling to the sand below.

you had no idea how long you had been walking, how long you'd been crying, but eventually, you looked up, and realized it was actually getting darker. the sun was much lower in the sky, the wind a bit quicker. clouds had began to creep in, making it grey and ominous.

great, you thought, rain on your impossibly long walk back was exactly what you needed.

you stilled, looked down at your feet, let out a deep, heavy breath, watched the water twist and pool around your ankles. maybe you could just stay like this forever. maybe your body would eventually decompose into the damp sand and smooth pebbles, turn into something beautiful.

"jesus, doll, there you are."

your head whipped back as you turned around, found a slightly out of breath quinn now in front of you. you blinked at him, your lips shut. was this some trick of the storm? what was he doing here? how dare he follow you?

your eyes didn't leave his, as you watched his gaze visibly soften so beautifully when he took in your face.

it must have been bad, you thought, evidence of crying for however long all over you. your cheeks must have been splotchy, your lashes clumped together, your lips puffy, eyes red.

this vision of you seemed to sober him, to make his heightened breathing cool down to something more composed.

he exhaled, braved a step closer to you, now only a foot apart. his gaze dripped down you in a way that had you wanting to just sink into the earth. "doll," he began, almost a warning, "you been crying?"

you didn't say anything, for a second, didn't indulge his obvious question with a response.

"what are you doing here?" you said, eventually, but it came out like a statement, a whisper, as you messily wiped your face with the back of your hand.

he had the gall to blink back at you, as if confused, that sorry softness still drenching his face, his posture. "you'd been gone for a while," he began, "the boat was leaving, and i just-"

"do you just want to fight, again?" you asked, your blood growing hotter with each second he was here, so close to you. you hated how wobbly your voice sounded, how resigned you already seemed to be. you peered up at him, felt your heart crack in two. "do you know your lines, yet, quinn?"

"i don't want to fight," he said, and conflict burned bright across his gaze, indecision.

"should i start or you?" you pressed, ignoring his admission, "how many times do i have to make a fool of myself before i finally stop expecting you to act like i matter?"

his breath was sharp in silence. the wind whipped your hair around your face, sticking to your tear-stained cheeks.

"of course you matter," he said, almost incredulous, like the whole idea of thinking otherwise was ridiculous.

your laugh was bitter, mean. "oh, of course," you bit out. "of course, right? how could i not be able to tell? you say you don't hate me, but you won't even talk to me in front of our friends," you swung you arms about in gesture. "jesus fuck, quinn, you almost kissed me, last night, and today it's right back to whatever bullshit we've been pulling for the last two years." you looked away from him, so overwhelmed with emotion. "it wasn't me who ruined this whole thing."

"you think i ruined it?" something equally terrifying and lovely melted across his eyes.

you scoffed. "it wasn't me who pretended like we'd never met," you snarked. you could almost sense a well of feeling rumbling through him like a cresting wave.

"you left!" he finally rasped, the most emotion you'd seen from him, maybe ever, his voice echoing in your head as the wind continued its assault, as small raindrops began to fall. "you left, doll, okay? i thought that night was special, but i woke up alone," he said, and it was so gravelly, sad, you felt it in your teeth.

you blinked, watched his chest rise and fall in heaving breaths. how could that be true? it dawned on you that you barely remembered much of what you did that morning, having focused so intently, for so long, on him. was it possible this whole thing was a misunderstanding?

"so you pretend not to know me?" you pressed, rain cold on your legs, your face, an icy contrast to the hot tears that had stopped flowing.

he gave a resigned gesture, blew out a breath. "i was embarrassed!" he said, "i am embarrassed, okay, doll? it's fucking embarrassing to be so into someone and then have them leave without saying goodbye, alright?"

your split heart thumped despite its brittle ache. there was a pause as you both registered just what the other had just admitted to.

both of you were soaked, now, rain dripping down your faces, but you didn't feel cold. you felt as if every inch of your skin was on fire, like your heart was trying to claw its way out of your chest.

you didn't know what to say. he had laid all his cards on the table, right in front of you, given you the honesty you'd been begging him for.

"and, you know, you wanted to kiss me, too, last night," quinn said, finally, defensive, hot, a thermometer approaching the highest temperature. as if the fact made it easier on him, somehow, as if it was a thread tying him to the earth, keeping him from floating away. "it wasn't just me."

you groaned through clenched teeth, a guttural sound. "of course i did! of course i want to kiss you!" you almost yelled, laying a tight fist on his solid chest, just barely holding back from slamming it into him.

his eyes were a forest fire, then, as your choice of words registered, a pause heavier than rock between you.

"wanted or want, doll?" he asked, and it was a breath, a whine, a plea as he allowed himself to wrap a heavy arm around your waist, pull you closer to him, until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face. the closest he'd been, dizzyingly close, like a dream.

you realized your mistake even in your dazed state, how he'd said you'd wanted to kiss him the night before. how you said you want to.

you could have easily laughed him off, said it was a tenses slip-up. you unfurled your fist, instead, laid your palm flat against his chest, perhaps imagined his heart beating in your grip.

he had been so honest with you, after all, had finally told you the truth. the least you could do was return the favor.

"want," you all but whispered, gazing up at him through raindrops and vulnerability.

what was and what could be melted away in a single moment.

he was a blur of relief and desperate motion. "thank fuck," was his murmured groan as he took the side of your face in a rough hand and guided your lips to his in a kiss that felt like a feat of nature one million times more impressive than the storm that blew around you.

it had been years of countless petty fights and cruel misunderstandings, of bitter jealousy and longing gazes, of deifying the last time you'd had quinn, like this. and yet, still, it was so much better than you remembered. he was.

the way he clutched at your hip like he couldn't bear to let you go, not anymore, not this time. the way his hand on your face was so firm, but so gentle. that undeniable faint grapefruit taste, so completely him.

how you melted into his chest, wrapped your arms around his neck, just wanting him closer, closer, just wanting him so close that you'd never be apart again.

you whimpered against his mouth when his teeth pulled lightly at your bottom lip, like some punishment for all you'd put him though. you just rooted your hand in his hair, now soaking wet, tugged at the curls near his neck, in your own kind of retaliation, until he gave a choked moan of his own.

that's for what you did to me, the soft sensation of pain screamed at both of you.

but his chapped lips moved with such intention against yours, like he wanted to swallow down all of the tears you'd cried over him. your body against his felt so right, so warm and comfortable even in the wet and cold weather.

but this is for what you are to me, was the ultimate response, communicated wordlessly through your kiss, through his.

at some point, you both pulled away, only just slightly, your forehead leaning against his as you both caught your breath, so elevated. his stony eyes were so molten, so clear and telling, as he traced his thumb down your jaw, finally wrapped both arms around your back and clasped his hands.

the silence was so beautiful, for a while.

"did the boat really leave?" you asked, dazed, finally, your voice low, husky.

quinn just nodded. "jack said they'll reimburse us for the night if we stay at the inn downtown," he explained, looking around to locate the road, the civilization that existed outside of your perfect bubble. his eyes found you again, something like mirth hidden in there, somewhere. "probably should get out of the rain."

your swollen mouth quirked up in a half-smile as you nodded your agreement, let him hold your hand in his as you made the short walk to the inn jack had been referring to.

you checked in together, ignoring a slightly confused look from the person at the desk, probably at the fault of your rain-drenched appearances. quinn made to grab some overnight necessities at the supermarket next door, kindly letting you take a warm shower while he did so.

when you opened the door to your room, you quickly realized that there was only one bed to share between the two of you. your stomach rolled at the thought, at the pressure that would exist, or not exist, when he returned. at the question of how far you were going to take this. your heart hurt at just how far you'd take it, take him, if he'd let you.

the thought vibrated through you as you let the warm water wash away the day's wear from your skin, eventually wrapping yourself up in a towel.

you hadn't realized how late it was, the quick storm messing with your conception of passing time. it was almost nine by the time quinn got back.

he closed the door behind himself, and the clicking noise that followed felt like something serious as he turned to face you, set the bag of things he had gotten on the dresser.

he cleared his throat as his gaze caught haphazardly on your bare shoulders, the slope of your neck, then finally registering the bed that you were sitting on, the singularity of it. he flushed down to his collar, making butterflies flutter to life in your chest.

he eventually averted his gaze enough to maintain a glimpse of dignity, opening the bathroom door. "got some stuff for you in there, doll," he called, gently, over his shoulder before he shut the door behind him, seemingly to take a shower himself.

you tried not to blush, because you were too old for that, too mature. you exhaled, tried to convince yourself that you would be fine no matter what happened, tonight. you'd kissed, sure, and there seemed to be an air of lightness, of understanding between you, but that didn't necessarily mean you were entirely past all of your issues. that didn't mean quinn wanted to move as fast as you did.

you distracted yourself by going through the bag on the dresser, trying to put together some semblance of your nighttime routine. the clothing options, understandably, must not have been plentiful. you smiled, laughed lightly as you pulled out the tshirt he'd gotten for you to change into, which was one of those touristy ones that read the person who bought me this shirt loves me very much!

and it was obviously because there had been no other options, but a piece of you clung to the sentiment, dug your nails into the flesh of it so hard it began to bleed.

regardless, you got ready to go to sleep, pretended to ignore when you heard the shower head turn off, the bathroom door eventually open, averted your gaze and forced away your blush upon quinn's reappearance.

the air of the room felt almost metallic, tangible, like it was rattling around the space instead of flowing.

you knew it was partially due to the way he looked, now, damp and flushed from the warm water, his chest bare and broad, a towel slung low on his hips. you swallowed, looked up at the ceiling, as if there was something very interesting up there. as if there was anything more captivating to you than him.

he pulled on the cheap clothes he'd gotten for himself, went through the motions of his own little routine, all while you pretended to be on your phone, scrolling through apps but not retaining even a bit of information.

"good if i turn the light out?" he eventually asked, soft, to which you nodded, consenting to the darkness that followed, the rustling of comforters and sheets as he joined you on the bed.

you set your phone down, tried to close your eyes, but you couldn't relax, not with him just so, so close, not with so much that you still wanted to do. not with years of complete lack weighing on you, not with the memory of his lips on yours so beautifully fresh in your mind.

you were turned away from him, a bit of space between you, but you could somehow feel that he was awake, too, that he was just as aware of the energy and expectation that coated the two of you like a watery film.

the texture of the inn's cheap sheets felt grating and terrible against your hot skin, made you restless, rubbing your legs together against the other slowly, fussing with your pillow, tediously careful to not make contact with him.

"doll," was quinn's inevitable comment, more of a warning, a statement, spoken low and rough, rumbling through you.

you didn't turn to face him, but stilled. "sorry," you mumbled, your cheeks warm.

"what's wrong?" you could basically feel the words on your back, the heat from his breath, his body.

you exhaled, still refusing to face him head-on, knew you'd be done for if you did. "nothing's wrong," you whispered.

he hummed, almost like this was amusing to him. "can feel you thinkin' from here," he said, soft. "tell me."

the pause before you spoke was solid, weighted. "just don't want to go back what we were before," you said, and it was the tone of a beggar, so honest in want. "just want this time to be different."

then he reached his arms out, wrapped them around your middle, pulled you back against his soft frame. you swore you must have exhaled a thousand anxieties as you melted into him, shifted your hips back against him.

"i want that, too," he admitted, and you could barely stop your smile as you finally turned to face him, undeniably beautiful even in the darkness.

"really?" you asked, not caring for a second how pathetic it sounded, how glutted with hope, almost childlike.

you felt his nod more than saw it as his grip around you tightened, his hands firmly grasping the flesh of your hips as you reached up, traced your fingers along the edge of his jaw.

"i'm sorry i left," you breathed, and you could feel his chest contract at your apology. "i never wanted to hurt you."

"i'm sorry, too," he said, "'m sorry i acted like you didn't matter to me, doll." his tone dripped with meaning. "'m sorry i lied."

your mouth quirked. "done a lot of lying, haven't we?" you mused. it was honestly impressive, how long you'd both kept up the charade.

he mumbled some affirmation that you felt against your forehead, the heat of it making you rub your calves together, again. "still nervous?" he asked.

you peered up at him. "not nervous," you clarified, "i just-"

you exhaled, lowered your gaze, almost stumbled over your words, because how could you tell him exactly what you thought?

how could you say all i've wanted for years is for you to touch me like you did that night?

somehow, maybe because he was feeling something similar, he seemed to know exactly where your head was, exactly the dilemma that existed in your mind.

"ask me," he said, hard, firm, "ask me, doll. know i like you desperate."

you whimpered, because his words could have been a taunt, had been a taunt before, but not this time.

because you were desperate, only for him. and he wanted you anyways.

"i need you, quinn," you whined, gathering his shirt in a clenched fist, "fuck, i need you so bad."

that was enough, though you supposed the truth had always been enough, for the two of you.

it was enough for his lips to crash against yours for the second time, that night, this time so soft, no longer fueled by anger or revenge but by something lovelier, slow burning, something you felt in your feet.

your lips parted almost immediately in a soft moan, making space for him as his hand braced the back of your neck, holding you tight as he shifted you so that he was on top of you, the weight and solidity of him almost oppressive, if not exactly what you'd been craving for so long.

he kissed you hard, adoring, like he wanted the outline of your mouth imprinted on his forever, as his other hand traced down the side of your body, eventually stilling to push your searching hips into the mattress.

"be good, doll," he murmured against your jaw, leaving messy kisses down your neck that had your throat feeling tight.

"can't," you whined, grasping for the curls at the nape of his neck, lifting your hips again to try to get some kind of friction against his lap. "can't, baby, been waiting so long." you tugged at his hair as his hand rested heavily on your inner thigh. "been wantin' you forever."

he let out a groan, finally moved his broad hand to tug your clothes aside, run his fingers through your folds. "yeah?" you could feel him smile against your neck as your breathing picked up, as he just barely grazed your clit, making you squirm. "been thinkin' 'bout me?" he asked. "'bout the last time i fucked you?"

you whimpered, nodded feverishly, because you had been thinking about it. a day rarely went by that you didn't think about it. it felt like something mythical that it didn't have to be just a memory anymore, that he didn't have to be your haunted house. that he could be here, with you, like this.

he pushed a thick finger into you, urging a strained sound from your throat. "'s okay," he cooed, watching you adjust to the pressure, the sensation.

he began a steady pace, adding another finger, making the slick sound of you seem to echo off the thin walls of the inn, making you wonder briefly if there was someone staying in the room next door. such a concern was quickly overwhelmed, though, as you got used to the stretch of his fingers, began to hunger for something else.

"know 've been dreamin' 'bout you, don't you?" he asked, moving his fingers faster, "fuck, got me all worked up, all those times, doll." his smirk grew arrogant. "so mean of you."

you clutched at his tense forearm. "''m sorry, quinn," you begged, rough and wild, "please, baby, please fuck me."

he slowed his pace, let you paw at his clothes before helping move them out of the way. "ask so pretty for me," he praised, spitting into his hand, pumping himself up and down, so hard and hot against you as he lined himself up, his voice dipping down even lower, somehow, like he was speaking only to himself, as if in a dream. "been dyin' to fuck you."

you whined when he began to push into you, the stretch dizzying, making your vision swim, your chest tighten. you grabbed a fistful of a sheet with one hand, the other arm grasping for him, eventually looping around his neck, your nails digging into the tense muscles of his shoulders.

his exhale was a shudder, one you felt so deeply, so intimately, one that told you that he was feeling a similar way to you - like you were being pulled between memory and reality, what was and what would be.

the pressure felt impossible as he bottomed out, let you adjust to him. "you're, fuck," you bit out, squeezing your eyes shut, "'re bigger than i remember."

someone else probably would have smirked, said something self-satisfying, but he didn't, seemingly too lost in the feeling of you around him, of having you, like this. "open your eyes, doll," he said, strained.

you gave a slight shake of your head in protest, knowing exactly what your refusal would do to him, knowing exactly the roughness it would bring out as he began to fuck into you, slow and deep, so overwhelming and perfect you could have cried.

"don't be a brat," he ordered.

a greedy smile fell across your lips when you felt his warm palm on your throat, his hand squeezing just barely, just enough feel him, everywhere. you opened your eyes, met his dark gaze, felt yourself clench down so tightly around him.

his rhythm grew brutal. "still like that, do you, doll?" he groaned, to which you whined at the insinuation that he remembered every detail of that night the way you did. that he had remembered what you liked and didn't like so vividly, even now.

"more, baby," you pleaded, feeling your head grow fuzzy with pleasure, that pressure inside of you so extreme, heat bursting through your waterline like you were about to cry. "fuck, quinn, need you harder."

"yeah?" he rasped, releasing your neck and bringing his hands down to tease your clit, making your back arch up off of the mattress, your hips jolting. "'f you needed a good fuck, doll, should've just asked."

you whimpered at his words, so cruel, but they pushed you impossibly closer, regardless, as he placed a wide palm on your lower stomach, intensifying the sensation. "i needed it," you babbled, feeling the wet feeling of hot tears on your cheeks but not really registering anything besides him, "needed your cock, baby."

he groaned, looked up for a second as if praying. maybe he was. maybe this was something worth praying for. "can feel you close, doll," he said, his thrusts growing wild, his face flushed with exertion, "give me it, hm?"

"'m gonna cum," you breathed, not recognizing your husk of a voice as you rooted your hand in his hair.

"cum on my cock," he said, a plea, "fuck, doll, been so perfect for me, waited so good."

you came apart at his words, your vision growing dimmer even in darkness, your thighs tensing as you felt your high trigger his own orgasm, warm and wet, his rough groan louder than even the storm-heightening waves outside, somehow more powerful.

his heavy body collapsed atop yours, both of you damp with sweat, your hair sticking to your tear-stained face, his soft curls to the back of his neck. you could feel every exhale against your chest, every twitch of his muscles in your bones.

at some point, he rolled off of you, pulled you against him, so, so tight, like letting you go would be something unforgivable. his arms around you felt like a million apologies, like something solid underneath you, finally, after being seasick and dizzy for so, so long.

he traced a drowsy thumb under your eyes, collecting the remnants of tears you'd barely noticed you'd shed.

"that good, eh?" he rasped, and you could hear his smile.

you rolled your eyes, couldn't stop your own grin as you playfully slapped him on the chest, relished in his low laugh against your hand, into your hair. "hey, can i ask you something?" you said, propping yourself up on your elbow.

"'course," he said, and that alone felt like something too lovely to be true.

"will you be my date to the wedding?" you asked, and your smile grew wider at his obvious conflict of interest. "even though it means you'll lose our bet?"

he groaned, rubbed a hand over his face. "fine," he said, his eyes flashing in the dark, "but only 'cause you look so pretty like this."

you gave a light noise of excitement in celebration, leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. "and for my prize i choose," you said, trailing off, thinking, tapping a finger to your mouth in contemplation before pointing it at quinn. "you."

his gentle smile was something surreal as he pulled you even closer to him, your cheek against his chest. "done," he breathed, and when he pressed his lips to the top of your head, it was something right.

when you finally reconvened with your friends the next day at the port, savannah approached you first, pulling you in for a hug.

"i'm so sorry," she said, "i wanted to stay and wait for you, but quinn said he was going to go by himself, and then luke said i shouldn't-"

"it's okay," you said, "it all worked out. we're here now, safe and sound."

savannah's brow quirked. "you seem awfully chipper," she observed, taking a step back as if to get the full picture.

you smiled at her, and you could feel quinn smile too, next to you, your stomach flipping when he looped a hand around your waist and pulled you to him, his grip strong and sure.

sav's eyes went wide, lexi laughed. nico whispered something to jack, luke gave an exaggerated fist pump.

"well," savannah said, "took you long enough, jesus."

"wait," you said, slowly, "you knew?"

she waved you off. "of course i knew, i'm your best friend."

you gestured around to the group. "who else knew?"

lexi raised her hand as if in a classroom. you nodded, invited her to speak up. "like knew that you guys fucked a couple years ago?" she clarified, "or knew that you guys secretly were super obsessed with each other?"

"because the answer to both of those questions is yes," nico piped up from the back.

quinn was silent, his low laugh against your neck as he clasped his arms around your front, pulled you back against him.

you turned your neck to look up at him. "did you tell them?" you asked.

"i told someone who probably told them," he mused.

you fixed your gaze on luke. "you absolute drama queen," you scolded, though you were smiling.

luke put his hands up in the air in surrender. "not my fault," he said, "we would have figured it out, anyways. not like you two were doing a good job of hiding anything."

"he's got a point," quinn whispered just behind your ear.

you sighed. "fine," you conceded. "i forgive you. and i forgive all of you for abandoning me in some random seaside town."

nico huffed. "yeah, really slummin' it, eh?" he asked, "you were at a bed and breakfast for a night with your pretty-much boyfriend. relax."

quinn pinched your hip, which made you smile. "so, where are we dropping nico off?" you asked, "might i suggest a deserted island?"

"finally gets the guy she wants and suddenly she's got jokes," nico muttered.

you felt quinn smile against your neck, and you smiled, too.

the wedding, the next weekend, was exactly the beautiful occasion you knew it would be, with only the most predictable of issues and the most simple of solutions.

you walked down the aisle with quinn, whose touch on your waist lingered right before you split apart to stand on opposite sides of the altar. when you both stilled, you shared a soft smile that felt like home.

lexi walked next, arm and arm with nico. erin was somewhere in the pews, as her and lex had really hit it off, and you were pretty sure about four girls here were under the impression that they were nico's one and only date.

luke walked by himself, a ring-bearer and flower-girl, of sorts, his tie a little too loose, his suit jacket too wide in the shoulders. his friend-date, mackie, you remembered, gave an emphatic cheer when luke tripped over the carpeted aisle, stumbling on his feet.

finally, sav walked down, looking just so beautiful, alight and glowing with the sort of beauty that comes with being a kind person surrounded by those you love.

it was a beautiful ceremony.

the reception was distinct in its energy, heightened by an open bar and big dance floor.

you danced with your best friends, smiled as you watched jack and sav enjoy dances together, laughed as nico tried to juggle his several dates.

"might not have been the best idea, eh?" you asked him, once, when he passed you and luke on the dance floor.

he made a pft sound, waved you off. "i can handle it," he said, his eyes suddenly filling with alarm, "but if you see the redhead, warn me."

you danced goofily with luke for a bit, giggling at his awkward moves, mimicking them in an exaggerated way.

when the songs grew slower, lazily, you felt a hand on the small of your back that you'd know anywhere, that you'd known even in absence.

"mind if i cut in, lukey?" he asked, and you rolled your eyes at his funny wording, but luke complied with a smile, and then it was the two of you, quinn's hands around your waist, yours looped around his neck, your fingers playing softly with his hair.

"you look really pretty, tonight," you said to him, unable to hide your smile, and it was true. his unruly hair, sharp features, full lips, it was distracting. that, combined with his pressed pants and the fact that a few buttons had come undone from his shirt over the course of the night. "everyone's jealous of me, i bet."

you'd tell him a thousand times to see the way his gaze softened, the way a faint pink blush bloomed across the bridge of his nose. "thank you, doll," he said, genuineness evident in his voice, soft. "'re too good to me, yeah?"

you laughed, at this, felt it light up your face. "makin' up for lost time," you teased.

he pulled you so close to him, then, until his embrace was basically a swaying hug, a tired excuse for a dance. "got all the time in the world," he said, low, only for you, against your temple, and it felt like rebuilding a world from devastation. it felt like beginning, like living. it felt like him.

it had been you and quinn, first. it had been you and quinn, the coward and the fool, in the middle, however violently.

and, finally, it was you and quinn, now. now, and forever.

fin.

770 notes · View notes

stevesbipanic · 4 months

Text

@steddiemas Day 22: Santa Shenanigans

Steve was going to kill Robin.

Well, not really because he doesn't think he'd survive more than a couple days without her. But he'd certainly be giving her the stink eye next shift for suggesting a secret Santa between the older ones of the party.

"We just rog it so that I get Vickie and she'll fall madly in love with me, it's a perfect plan Steve!"

To her credit it was an ok plan.

"Last week you spent an hour bemoaning the fact that she smiled at a boy."

"But yesterday she spent two hours studying with me in the library!"

Steve rolled his eyes at her shenanigans but agreed nonetheless. They drew names the next time they had all gone out for burgers at the diner. Steve tried not to make it obvious when he saw who his name was. Eddie.

Steve wasn't disappointed, no, far from it, he'd been hiding a crush on the older boy for a few months now, let's just say Eddie spent a lot of time by Steve's pool last summer. But now he felt the pressure to get him the perfect gift. The plan hadn't even worked for Robin.

"I got Argyle! Now how will I win her heart."

"Could always plant some mistletoe."

"You're a genius! Who'd you get."

"It's Secret Santa, Rob's, it's meant to be secret."

"Boo you're no fun, bet it's me."

It took Steve weeks to finish his gift for Eddie and Steve found himself hastily wrapping it the morning of their little Christmas party, grateful that Robin had thought of the plan well in advance otherwise he'd have never finished.

Steve greeted everyone and watched as they placed their secret Santa gifts under the tree. They ate, laughed and picked a Christmas movie to watch after presents. One by one they opened their gifts.

Nancy got Vickie some water colour paints.

Argyle got Jonathan rolls of fresh film.

Jonathan got Nancy some new notepads with larger covers.

Robin got Argyle a big bright tie dye shirt with Groovy printed on the front, he quickly put it over the sweater he was already wearing.

Vickie turned to Robin and Steve quickly saw her cheeks start to redden. She passed her the gift and Robin unwrapped a bag full of pins and badges.

"I've been collecting them for a few weeks for you from around town and around where I went to visit my grandma, thought your work vest needed some more fun ones."

Robin grinned widely at Vickie, the effort making a big impact on her. Steve knew he'd be hearing about it for weeks but he hoped the mistletoe in the kitchen sped things along.

Steve was about to give Eddie his gift when he realised that this meant Eddie also got him for Secret Santa. He turned to the metalhead to find him already shyly holding out a gift.

"It's not much but I hope you like it, Stevie."

Steve unwrapped the small package to find a collection of mixtapes inside, Eddie's handwriting clearly scribbled on the side.

"I started making a mixtape of songs that made me think of you but U ran out of room on the first one and might've gotten carried away," he said shyly scratching his neck.

Steve glanced over the names of the songs and it was clear that the majority of them certainly wouldn't remind someone of their dear platonic friend. Steve smiled softly at him and passed him his gift.

"I think I know what you mean."

Eddie slightly confused at the statement unwrapped the gift, his mouth forming a small o looking inside. He took out the book, a worn copy of The Hobbit that Steve had thrifted as soon as he knew Eddie was his secret Santa.

"Stevie, you know I've got this one, it's my favourite," he said slightly awkwardly.

"Look inside."

Eddie slowly opened the book to see small dribbles of ink between the words. The handwriting clearly Steve's. As he flicked through he saw Steve's thoughts spilling into almost every page.

"It's your favourite and you're always wanting me to read it so I did, I thought it'd be fun if you saw exactly what I thought of it."

Eddie's eyes caught on one of the words near the end, a small red shape next to them, yeah, he thinks he and Steve are on the same page, but he'd wait until the end, no spoilers early after all.

"I love it, Stevie, thank you."

As Steve sat curled up next to Eddie on the couch watching the film he too had the same thought, definitely on the same page.

Ao3

#Vickie just looks like shed like water colouring #some people hate when people annotate i dont mind #enjoy a book how you want to its your experience #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #st christmas #steddiemas #rockie #background robin and vickie #stobin #how is it week 4 already of steddiemas

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estapa-edwards · 20 days

Text

SECOND CHANCE - L.HUGHES

paring: Luke Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 1.5k

requested? yes- “do you… love me, by any chance?” “yeah, why?” “well, i’m sorry, i was just— WAIT WHAT—” w/ Luke Hughes!

warnings: use of y/n. established relationship.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

The New Jersey Devils were facing off against their arch-rivals, the New York Rangers, in a crucial divisional matchup. As always, I was in the stands, proudly wearing Luke's jersey and cheering him on. The atmosphere was electric, with both teams battling fiercely for every puck and every goal.

Midway through the second period, tensions on the ice began to escalate. A controversial call by the referees led to a power play for the Rangers, much to the dismay of the Devils and their fans. Luke, who was on the ice at the time, was visibly frustrated and exchanged heated words with the officials.

As the game continued, I couldn't shake off a feeling of unease. I knew that Luke was a passionate player who wore his heart on his sleeve, but tonight, his emotions seemed to be getting the best of him. When the Devils failed to kill off the penalty and the Rangers scored a go-ahead goal, Luke's frustration reached a boiling point.

With less than a minute remaining in the period, Luke was involved in a heated altercation with an opposing player. As fists flew and players from both teams rushed to join the fray, I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that this was not the kind of player Luke wanted to be, and I was worried about the repercussions of his actions.

After the game, I waited nervously for Luke outside the locker room. When he finally emerged, his face was flushed with anger and disappointment. Without saying a word, I took his hand and led him away from the crowd, hoping to find a quiet place where we could talk.

We ended up in a secluded corner of the arena, far away from the prying eyes of fans and reporters. I could see the frustration in Luke's eyes, and I knew that this was the perfect opportunity to address the issues that had been brewing between us.

"Luke, what happened out there tonight?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and steady.

"I lost my cool, okay? I let my emotions get the best of me, and it cost us the game," he replied, his voice tinged with regret.

"I understand that you're passionate about the game, but you need to control your temper," I said firmly. "You're a role model for so many young players, and you can't let your emotions dictate your actions on the ice."

Luke sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground. "I know, Y/N. I know I messed up, and I'm sorry."

As much as I wanted to comfort Luke and tell him that everything would be okay, I couldn't ignore the underlying issues that had been causing tension in our relationship. I took a deep breath and decided to address them head-on.

"Luke, this isn't just about tonight's game," I said, choosing my words carefully. "We've been arguing a lot lately, and I feel like we're drifting apart."What do you mean?" Luke asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I mean that we've been struggling to communicate and understand each other," I replied, trying to articulate my feelings without placing blame. "Between your demanding schedule with the Devils and the pressures of our personal lives, it feels like we've been growing apart. I miss the connection we used to have, and I think we need to address these issues before they drive a wedge between us."

Luke's expression softened as he absorbed my words, realizing the gravity of the situation. "I didn't realize things had gotten this bad between us, Y/N," he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. "I've been so focused on hockey and trying to prove myself on the ice that I haven't been giving our relationship the attention it deserves."

"I understand that your career is important, Luke, and I'm proud of everything you've accomplished," I said, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

"I understand that your career is important, Luke, and I'm proud of everything you've accomplished," I said, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "But maybe we should take a break from being together."

Luke looked at me, his eyes widening in surprise. "A break? Are you serious, Y/N?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. "I just think we need some time apart to figure things out. We've been arguing a lot lately, and it feels like we're not on the same page. I care about you, Luke, but I think we both need some space to evaluate what we want from this relationship."

Luke's expression hardened, and I could see the hurt and confusion in his eyes. "I thought we were doing okay, Y/N. I didn't realize you were feeling this way."

"I've been trying to communicate my feelings to you, but it seems like we keep hitting a wall," I replied, my voice trembling slightly. "I think a break could give us the opportunity to reflect on our relationship and determine if we're truly compatible or if it's time to go our separate ways."

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated my words. "I don't want to lose you, Y/N, but I also don't want to force you into something you're not comfortable with. If you think a break is what's best for us, then I guess we should give it a try."

As we stood there, facing each other in the dimly lit corridor of the arena, I felt a mix of emotions - sadness, uncertainty, and a glimmer of hope. While I knew that suggesting a break was a risky move, I also believed that it was necessary to address the issues that had been causing tension and discord in our relationship.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Despite the agreement, the days that followed were tough for both of us. The absence of each other was more palpable than we had anticipated. Every time I heard a knock on the door or the sound of footsteps in the hallway, my heart would race, hoping it was Luke. The silence between us grew louder with each passing day, and the empty space beside me in bed felt colder than ever.

One evening, as I was preparing dinner in my apartment, there was a sudden knock on the door. My heart skipped a beat, and a rush of emotions flooded over me. Could it be Luke? I hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, before walking over to the door and cautiously opening it.

To my surprise and relief, there stood Luke, looking slightly disheveled and clearly out of breath. His eyes met mine, filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty.

"Luke, what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to maintain a sense of composure despite the whirlwind of emotions I was feeling.

"I couldn't stay away, Y/N," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I know we agreed to take a break, but I've been miserable without you. I miss you, and I needed to see you."

I looked into Luke's eyes and saw the sincerity and vulnerability that I had missed so much. Despite our decision to take a step back, it was clear that we were both struggling to stay apart.

"Come in," I said softly, stepping aside to let him enter my apartment.

Luke stepped inside, and I closed the door behind him, enveloping us in a moment of tension and uncertainty. We stood there, facing each other, as the reality of our situation sank in.

"Do you… love me, by any chance?" I finally blurted out, unable to hold back any longer.

Luke looked taken aback by my question. "Yeah, why?" he replied, his voice filled with confusion.

"Well, I'm sorry, I was just— WAIT, WHAT—"

Before I could finish my sentence, Luke closed the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands and pressing his lips against mine in a passionate kiss. The world seemed to fade away as we lost ourselves in the moment, our doubts and uncertainties melting away as our love for each other shone through.

As we pulled apart, gasping for breath, Luke looked into my eyes and spoke from the heart. "I do love you, Y/N. I'm sorry it took us this long to say it, but I want you to know that my feelings for you are real and true."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I wrapped my arms around Luke, pulling him close. "I love you too, Luke," I whispered, my voice filled with emotion. "And I'm sorry for doubting us. Let's promise to work through our issues together and make our relationship stronger than ever."

Luke smiled, his eyes shining with happiness and relief. "I promise, Y/N. I'll do whatever it takes to make things right between us."

Over the next few weeks, Luke and I made it a priority to nurture our relationship, setting aside time for each other amidst his demanding hockey schedule and my own commitments. We went on dates, explored new activities together, and most importantly, communicated openly and honestly about our feelings and concerns.

#luke hughes #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic

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distressedjellyfish · 3 months

Text

Things I think about with frequency

Amy March

How we deserved to see Amy and Laurie's wedding, and them falling in love, and just more of them

How Amy March is hated by many because LMA based the characters off her own sisters, and Amy was obviously written with some bias (as were all the sisters), which shines through and makes us feel similarly about Amy that "Jo" felt about her younger sister.

That line where Amy says "I've been second to Jo my whole life" hits A LOT harder when you realize that Louisa's (Jo) middle name is May, and her younger sister, who she based Amy off, is named May, after LMA's middle name.

I think that people see Amy as this vapid little bitch because she always knew she wanted to be a wife, and she knew she wanted to be rich. But what people fail to consider is that a lot of the time the youngest is the one that sees all the flaws in their family’s lives and feels responsible for taking care of them, even if its not expressly stated. Jo was a wild card. She was free to do as she wanted and nothing could stop her and God love Marmee for never trying. Meg was docile and almost polar opposite of Jo, and as the eldest sister she felt the same burden but lessened because yes she had typical Eldest Sister Syndrome where she had the need to take care of the family, but she also was the first, and therefore had no pre-set markers and expectations that she needed to meet or surpass. She wanted to marry and all that, but it didn't super matter about finances to her. Beth was unable to do "better" than her sisters "mistakes" flat out. And its not through any fault of her own, its just the way it was.

Speaking from experience, its always been clear to me that as the youngest of 3, I would have to do better. My half brother got a girl pregnant on his gap year when he was 18, so I was never allowed to take one, even though it would have probably helped in the long run. My half sister has always been mean to my parents, and won't let my dad see his only biological grandkid, which rips my dad apart, so of course I feel the pressure to have a child to give my dad a bio grandkid to dote on like he does with his non-bio grandkids, even though he's never outwardly expressed to anyone ever that he feels any disconnect from my niece because they aren't related, or that he wants me to have kids for any reason other than he wants them.

Anyways, my point is that Amy felt that pressure from a young age, hence always saying this or that about marrying rich. Add onto that when Aunt March tells her she's her family’s only hope of not being in the lower class/lower middle class for the rest of their lives. And just because that's the only time we see it, but that doesn't mean that there weren't other similar conversations had. Do you really think Aunt March never made her snide comments about the family and their status in front of Amy?

Amy's entire character revolves around this point, she's focused on being a proper lady, being delicate and pretty, in hopes of one day being able to bag someone rich, for her family.

Obviously, she falls into infatuation with Laurie when she meets him at the ripe age of 12??? She idolizes Jo, and Laurie is basically just the boy version (with some exceptions). He's also rich, young, handsome, and charming, and adores the family for who they are, including all their flaws. He's exactly what Amy had been saying she would marry, with the added bonus of him loving Jo the way she is, the exact opposite of Amy, proving that there are rich lovely men out there who will love you even if you aren't perfect, even if you falter. He's proof she can have the life she knows she needs to have for her family, and also still enjoy it and not be stressed all the time about being perfect.

Of course Laurie loves Jo first, for very similar reasons that Amy is infatuated with him. At 15, his whole life has been spent at dinner parties with girls the exact opposite of Jo, all proper and lovely and so so similar to one another, being told he'll marry one of them, everyone expecting him to be polished and well spoken and everything that no 15 year old boy wants to be. So then in comes this whirlwind girl who is completely different, a breath of fresh air that never wants to marry and can't ballroom dance for shit and laughs too loud, and shows him that life can be the Something Different he so desperately craves.

And of course, he ends up with Amy. He was Jo's best friend, so for 6 years all he knew of her was the way she was presented through Jo's eyes. A bratty little girl, who was the same as the other vapid girls he knew, that wasn't worth a thought. And he never paid her any mind because he spent 6 years thinking Jo loved him back, so why would he think of other girls? Then, at 21, he is essentially dumped by the love of his life, and travels abroad to find who he is without her. He meets Amy again, the girl who was always happy to see him. Of course he's going to spend time with her, she's familiar enough to feel like home, but different enough from Jo that it doesn't hurt. And there's the added validation of her liking him, which sometimes you need after your heart has been ripped apart. Plus, she's the only one he really knows in Paris. So they spend time together, and in that time he learns that she's not at all the way he's seen her over the last 6 years. Where he always saw someone not very bright, with a dim personality, that didn't stand up for anything or really rock the boat unless seriously provoked, who would do anything for him, he now finds a strong, funny, kind, beautiful girl, who is very intelligent and has a deep understanding of how cruel the world is (maybe ((definitely)) moreso than her sister) and knows how to manipulate said world in such a way that she can come out close to on top, who cares about her family enough to put everything else aside in order to become the person they need her to be in order to support them, who would still do anything for him but will absolutely call him on his shit and put him in his place when necessary. And how could he not love that?

She's not all that much like Jo, sure, but she is so much more. And she deserves so much more than people calling her his second choice.

Also I think that its criminal that most people don't see that obviously Jo loved her family but she loved herself more. Her sense of duty was to herself, and finding the place that would make her happy. She was also kind of a brat? Things didn't go her way? Editor is a dick? Boy critisizes her writing? Tantrum.

Whereas Amy loved her family more than herself. She was willing to put aside her dreams in order to support her family, and growing up was very rarely bitter about it. She decided, on her own, that her family was her number one priority, and that regardless of the fact that she could be happier doing other things, she wanted to do what she could to provide for her family. She knew how the world treated women, and she learned how to take that, and general criticism, on the chin.

Personally, I think that Amy is a way better character, and I'll die on this hill

Amy March

#jo march #amy march #beth march #meg march #louisa may alcott #little women #books #booklr #bookblr #classic literature #literature #movies #little women movie #little women 2019 #hot take #laurie laurence #amy x laurie #the march sisters #my roman empire

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 8 months

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WIBTA if i asked my mom to stop giving me gifts?

TLDR at the end, sorry for the length, i'm trying my best to explain my reasons because i know this sounds spoiled as hell. some background: i'm almost 20, i suffer from anxiety and i live with my mom.

my mom has always given me gifts, both for special events (like my birthday or christmas) and on random days. i understand how privileged it is and how many sacrifices she makes for it (we're not well-off with money) and some of the gifts she's gotten me mean a lot to me.

but i have a bunch of problems with it.

i hate gift giving. it isn't my natural love language, i show my affection in other ways. more importantly my anxiety makes it exhausting. i struggle to pick gifts because it has to be perfect and the pressure is too much. i don't like receiving gifts because i overthink about not expressing my gratitude properly.

as much as i've liked some of the gifts, most have been awful. i'd say it's the thought that counts but it feels like she doesn't pay attention to anything i like, and rather only buys me things for the sake of it (in general she doesn't show interest in the things i like or do, so this is just a painful reminder)

i feel like the things she gifts me take away my freedom to buy things for myself. for example, i want to buy clothes i like but she keeps buying me clothes i don't want without asking. i've been trying to dress how i want but i already have so many clothes i feel guilty buying more.

and this is the main problem: recently she keeps saying how i "never buy her anything" and, in her words, that i "owe her gifts". this is true, as i mentioned i have a hard time giving gifts and i think it's fair she's upset about it. i feel really bad for not giving her gifts. now the pressure is worse than before and so is my anxiety about it, and it's even more difficult.

i've felt this way for a long time and i've thought about asking her to stop, but i didn't want to make her upset since it seems to be her love language. it would also be very ungrateful. i know the best course of action would be to buy her gifts, i really wish i could and i swear i want to get her something, but knowing me i can't make any promises.

the recent comments about how i "owe" her gifts make me think i should confront her about it.

TLDR; my mom gives me a lot of gifts. this is a problem for me for a bunch of reasons: giving/receiving gifts is difficult for me due to anxiety; she buys me things despite not knowing what i like; she gets me so many i feel guilty buying anything for myself; most importantly, she began saying i owe her gifts.

i want to ask my mom to stop giving me gifts, WIBTA??

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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b0rderbunny · 3 months

Text

☼MISSING YOU☼

A/N: i know i just disappeared but I'm back I've just been really busy and i've been helping my sister with the writing part of her comic but i thought id come back with some angst/no comfort. after this ill post some fluff promise!

Anyways here's a bandaid to help with the wounds this'll inflict.

(:̲̅:̲̅:[̲̅:★:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

Fiance Tanjiro X Gender Neutral Reader

"My life is incomplete,

its missing you" -missing you (btob)

it was a beautiful day when he met you, it was sunny and a rainstorm had just passed the day before leaving a clear sky. it was nearing the end of october and winter was right around the corner maki9ng this the perfect day to sell charcoal before it got to cold.

tanjiro hiked down the mountain with his basket filled to the brim with charcoal ready to be sold. he was busy trying not to trip when heading down the creek until a overwhelming sweet scent entered his nose and he felt himself being toppled over into the water.

"oh crap i'm sososorry!" you said standing from the deep water to offer him a hand.

"are you hurt?" you asked as he just stared up at you in a daze.

to tanjiro it felt like a angel had fallen out of the sky rather than a clumsy teen who got lost in a forest, got scared, and accidentaly ran into a poor helpless boy.

"uh, are you good?" you asked again as he realized he was staring and snapped out of it. "i apologize i not hurt, thank you!" he said as he took your hand to stand. "don't apologize this is 100% my fault, i should've been watching where i was going" you said bowing at a perfect 50 degree angle as he sweat dropped.

"really its fine im not hurt at all" he said letting out a reassuring laugh as the tips of your ears turned red. "if there's anything i can do to apologize please let me know!" you yelled in embarrassment your entire face red.

"then can you tell me your name?" he asked offering his hand.

"huh? thats it? youre not gonna sell me to the cartel or anything right" you said exclaiming with your hands as he let out a laugh. "no i wouldnt" he said giving you a bright beaming smile.

"okay! ____ ______, im pleased to meet you!" you said taking his hand in yours. "tanjiro kamado, its nice to meet you too" he said a small blush spreading to his cheeks.

from that day forward a relationship like no other had blossomed.

tanjiro couldn't explain it but every time he was around you he got this fuzzy feeling in his stomach, he felt as if he was in complete and utter safety around you.

from the way you smiled, to the way you joked. he loved everything, he loved how your ears turned red when you were embarrassed. or how when you were angry you would turn a light shade of pink, the jokes you told.

he couldn't understand most of them but the way you would mutter them again to yourself and laugh had him smiling in pure joy.

he almost felt free around you.

sure he loved his family, but sometimes the pressure of being the oldest and breadwinner really put a lot on his shoulders. yet up until this point, he couldn't do much.

but when you came into his life you would pat him on the head, tell him good job when he completed something, always asking him how his day was going. tanjiro was so used to just bottling everything down that when he had someone who was constantly think of him, and only him he began to cry.

"tan tan, i don't know you get this alot but im really proud of you" you said as you played with his hair as you two sat on a tree trunk on the edge of the creek you two first met.

you continued even as you felt his shoulders stiffen a bit. "the way you're always there for your siblings and how you're always so kind is something i don't think i'd be able to do." you giggled. "sometimes i wonder if people ever let you know how much you mean to them, so i'm letting you know right now" you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his waist and placed your chin on his shoulder.

your eyes softened as the small tears trailed down his cheeks as you brought a hand to wipe them away.

"tanjiro kamado thank you for being such a bright star in this cruel world"

that was the night he confessed, where he told you how much he loved you, and to his shock, you loved him too.

the two of you were official, he had spent a small fortune on finding you the perfect ring, the best ring. and that's what he confessed with.

and finally it was the day for you to meet his family.

he had told you stories. on how takeo would get angry when he wasn't included in things. how shigeru and hanako would get into fights but forget about them within a minute. how rokuta was just now taking his first few steps and how his speech was increasing. and how nezuko was always helping out but also being a sense of comfort to all. and how even tho she was all alone his mother took care of most of the household even while sick.

from everything you had heard his family was absolutely lovely. and you hoped they would find you the same way.

and luckily, they adored you.

as soon as you walked through the door shigeru and hanako ran up to you and grabbed you by the legs excitedly asking if you were the person tanjiro was going to marry.

the entire day had gone by smoothly up until dinner time.

you sat next to tanjiro with baby rokuta in your lap after he refused to be let go, he weirdly grew fond of you quickly; not that you were complaining he was absolutely adorable. his mother was at your other side and nezuko, takeo, shigeru, and hanako where infront of you four.

"so ____" kie called out causing you to look up from baby rokuta who was babbling words you were trying to understand. "yes okasan?" you asked as she turned to face you. "do you like kids?" she asked with a smile as rokuta continued to play with your un occupied hand.

"uh huh! in the village i was from before i came here i helped out at a nursery so i gained a bit of experience in caring and bonding with children" you said as baby rokuta looked up to you with a innocent baby look before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

a chorus of 'aww's went around the room as the baby happily babbled away.

"i hope you and tanjiro give me some grandbabies soon seeing as this one is already growing to fast" kei said out loud causing a angry red blush to spread to both you and tanjiros cheeks as both kei and nezuko laughed leaving the other two children confused.

"m-mom!" tanjiro stuttered the blush deepening as she continued laughing.

oh such happy memories.

sadly, you and tanjiro wouldn't be able to make more.

that night you had stayed over and were going to leave 3 days from then, sadly that would never happen.

the day after returning home from selling charcoal tanjiro sped up at the smell of blood.

the smell of blood, coming from his home.

a massacre had happened.

kei and hanako laid against the door frame to the kitchen eyes closed, pale faces covered in blood.

shigeru and takeo lying motionless on the floor eyes stuck open in terror. and in the entrance door frame layed nezuko, rokuta, and you.

all presumably dead.

the only one who lived was nezuko, yet his sister became a demon. the very thing that had killed his family and the love of his life.

"Muzan Kibutsuji! No matter where you go, you're not getting away! I'll follow you to the ends of Hell, and I swear I'll slice your head with my blade! I'll never forgive you no matter what!"

and he never will.

muzan kibutsujii will pay, for taking his past and present. but also for taking his future.

that night before he left he remembered the conversation you two had.

"hey tantan" you said sitting on the futon beside his, his mother had provided you with as you ran the brush through your hair.

"yes ____?" he asked with that sweet and kind voice looking up at you with his soft red eyes full of love and adoration.

"have you ever heard of demons?" you asked pressing your finger against your lips as if you were telling a secret. "demons?" he was confused why were you bringing this up?

"yeah like scary man eaters" you said emphasizing your point by putting your fingers against your head like devil horns,

with a laugh he grabbed your hands and pulled them down to hold them in his.

"no i haven't, why?" he asked curious as to why you would ask.

"no reason, i just heard they're sUper scary" you said emphasizing on the u in super.

"well you don't have to worry because demons arent real, and even if they were..." he trailed off a small blush covering his cheeks as he looked up into your eyes. "..i would make sure to protect you and make sure you didn't get hurt.: he mumbled shyly as you stared at him in awa before you smiled.

"i know!"

"god ____, i'm so sorry" he whispered small tears falling, yet this time there was no one to wipe them.

A/N Am i sorry? idk anyways goodnight i have classes in 3 hours and i have been procrastinating school work so until next week! Bye Bye!

#tanjiro kamado #kny tanjirou #kimetsu no yaiba #kny fluff #kny angst #hurt/no comfort #tw death #tanjiro x reader #demon slayer tanjiro #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #angst no happy ending #sad fic #demon slayer

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skinnypaleangryperson · 1 month

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There's something that I can't stand about the whole narrative and couldn't stand in the past. Depending on my personal situation my severe depression gets better or worse. For example, I haven't been working class with coworkers that don't care about me for quite a while now, so I don't feel as much pressure or worthlessness from being what is more likely than 90% that has not an ounce of talent in their body. But when I was working class with coworkers that thought I was worthless even when it came to a job I didn't want to do, and I was being made fun of in the fandom I was writing fanfiction for I was literally paralyzingly suicidal and depressed everyday. When people are constantly saying that they think most people's creations are going to be inherent garbage and they're so little faith in anyone, it makes it difficult to have a clear enough head to sit down and to create for hours, what's in a more pure world or with people less terrible or nihilistic it would be a lot easier to enjoy

What even defines great work? Because I've always read work like Shakespeare and Harry Potter and frankly when I was a kid I didn't even think it was that good. And yet, there's some of the only pieces of literature that people actually know about. So what in the hell makes good art if I don't even think that the good art is good? Doesn't that mean that it's just a matter of opinion? Most people's personalities and thoughts seem to align to pretty much be the same so if you're eccentric you're not going to like the same work that the public likes. But does that mean that there's really a line between good and great or just difference in opinion and those who are subjected away from the majority?

Haha, well, I think I'm a genius. Yes, I'm aware that my work is far from perfect, but when I sit down and create in my imagination for hours I never feel more rich or enlightened. I don't know if that just means that I'm biased or if I'm crazier or delusional, but I've always felt incredibly reaffirmed and fulfilled by my work. I never feel cheap or bored with my own imagination at all

I wish that there was a place where people that were just trying to figure out their voice and are waking up everyday with the process of raw creation how to place where they could talk reasonably and kindly with people outside of unpredictable trashy internet discussions. I wish there was a place where people like me could talk about their work and could hear about others, so that I wasn't literally just sitting completely alone in the same four walls going mentally crazy every day from isolation and meaninglessness, only wondering about what people would think and about wishing that I had even one person to talk to about stuff with. I would give anything. I literally sat in my room for so long yesterday working on stuff until I got dark in my room, I was so in my own head. It's both miserable and meaningful at the same time. But more than that, I just don't know what the hell is going on with me because I have no outside real affirmation of opinion of pretty much anything, whether good or bad

#writing #storytelling #fanfiction #authors #literature #what do you even tag general posts like this as?#would be nice to not be talking to myself all the time

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 days

Note

For the ship game: Leopika and Hisoillu! I don't know your ship taste well so I'm just hitting a couple other big HxH ships hrjfjkjkdlgdfk hope you don't mind

Oh, I don't mind at all, Percy! :)

Hisoillu is... I mean... they are kind of sort of engaged (?) so. Yeah, it makes sense. Also, I can think of no one else in the universe who should be subjected to close proximity with these two on a regular basis hdfhbsdhj. Congrats, you're perfect for each other, just never involve anyone else in what you've got going on ever. Truthfully, I'm kind of indifferent towards it as a ship. It makes sense to me, but it's not something I actively seek out in fanworks I suppose. It's just, yeah, Hisoka and Illumi are together. Happy for them lol. I guess it's mostly because I think murder is their love language and I just... can't see them being romantic with each other in a lot of the more typical ways that characterize many fanworks. Do they want to kill each other, or are they into each other? The answer is both - the murder is an intrinsic aspect of the "being into each other" hdjfbvhd. That said, I think they have a pretty healthy respect for each other, due to probably being evenly matched, I'd say. I think Hisoka genuinely finds Illumi good company, and Illumi readily has fairly casual conversations with Hisoka. Their dynamic is kind of fascinating actually, and I do honestly think they're kind of perfect for each other. Diversity win??? Loss??? I'm honestly not sure lmao

Leopika :') I love the potential for them. Sadly, they don't have all that many interactions in the canon manga, so I would ordinarily say it doesn't make a huge amount of sense, but then we have the 99 anime and the radio skits who seem determined to ship them so hfbgjdhj I have no clue. I'm weird about this ship because I tend to alternate between "yeah they're cute" and "oh god. oh god. them. AAARGGHHH" and experiencing emotional damage hahaha. I am like this with no other ship. It's very strange to me.

The one thing is that I'm extremely picky with Kurapika characterization, in any art or story. If Kurapika doesn't read right to me, I just can't suspend my disbelief. I'm really not big on the "mom and dad" characterization, though no shade to anyone who is.

Peak Leopika dynamic to me takes into account not just Leorio's concern and Kurapika's walls, but also their mutual stubbornness and Kurapika's hilarious tendency to annoy Leorio on purpose. To me, I've always felt that he likes Leorio because he's a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve and values individual lives so strongly, so he kind of checks that he hasn't changed that much when they see each other. I think it's kind of relieving for Kurapika, in a way, to know that Leorio will always be himself - "same old Leorio" kind of deal.

I also think Kurapika is just a little shit hjgbvsjdh

But no, I love that Leorio clearly eases up some of the pressure Kurapika feels, and seems to make him feel better about things- that's probably half the reason he keeps him at arms length. I think affectionate bickering is their love language. I also wish people noticed a little more that it's Kurapika who actually seriously initiated friendship between them, not Leorio. In most cases in the Hunter Exam, it was Kurapika approaching Leorio and showing a clear interest in sticking with him and helping him pass and achieve his dream. I think it's incredibly meaningful that one of the first people Kurapika meets and takes a liking to is this guy who wants to become a doctor - the doctor that Kurapika had left in the first place to go looking for. Anyways, I'm really looking forward to see what role Leorio will play in the current arc (just to have more Leorio, honestly, pls Togashi I miss him...), as I'm sure he will eventually find out about Emperor Time and OH BOY I'm sure that will go over well.

Erm. Sorry for rambling. I had a lot to say apparently...

#storyrambles #thanks for the ask!#ask game #hxh

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humanpurposes · 5 months

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Just some thoughts I've had about writing over the last few days:

So I've been having a little bit of a quite a major freak out lately ✌️😙

I have two series that I want to update, I'm excited about the stories and the ideas, but every time I sit down to write I have nothing to say. No words come to mind. When I get writer's block I try to redirect my energy into other things or slowly chip away at my wip until it comes together. But lately I feel like I'm forcing myself to write and then I get distracted, and upset with myself, and I doubt my abilities and start to wonder if I'm doing this because I want to or because I feel like I have to.

But the reality is it can be very daunting and actually quite a lonely process to write something, if it's a series or a oneshot, fanfiction or otherwise. When writing was still new and exciting to me, I could bang out several chapters in a day and still be happy with the quality, now I feel like writing a chapter is becoming a longer and more complex process.

I've just felt so stuck with my fics lately, and I think a lot of that comes from the pressure to write something that's amazing and gets people invested. And I do put a lot into what I write, I love rich stories and complex characters, getting carried away with an idea, playing things out in my head and then finding the details and the meanings as I write. And to be honest, that takes a lot of work.

I think my problem at the moment is that I'm getting so worked up about creating something "perfect" and making sure the writing is flawless and the narrative makes sense and the characters are all believable, that I've lost the ability to enjoy the overall process.

The main thing on my mind at the moment is KIAG Chapter 15, and it's meant to be this big, emotional moment, and I've just completely intimidated myself because everything has been building to this chapter. I love this fic but sometimes it's hard to motivate myself to write it. It doesn't get that much traction on here and I've gotten a few weird comments, complaining that Aemond is a terrible person (what did you expect??) or presuming that the story will develop in an unsatisfying way, so I feel like there's this urge to stand out, and to prove that actually, this fic is good and emotional and compelling.

But realistically, I'm an amateur writer, writing in my spare time, for my own enjoyment. None of my fics are ever going to win the Booker Prize or become classic pieces of literature. And that's ok! I just need to enjoy this for what it is.

And it's really helped talking to people, keeping myself grounded, not getting caught up in being self critical and just letting myself work organically. Sometimes you just need a bit of reassurance or another pair of eyes.

So I just wanna say, if anyone finds themselves stuck or doubting themselves, my dms are always open if you're struggling or need to talk things through 🫶

#me when i overshare #bit of a rant #more of a ramble

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wonda-fhr · 2 months

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David and Ryder have had so many new experiences that they urgently need to process them. Time for a coffee together and a private chat.😏

Just a cup of coffee ☕

David and Ryder had made themselves comfortable on the grey leather sofa, the smell of fresh coffee mingling with the smoke from Ryder's cigarette. He was leaning on David's shoulder, the smoke swaying in psychedelic waves with the movements of his hand that accompanied his report. "Then I kind of snapped. I was sort of lost somewhere, and then I got way too rough. I'm sure I hurt him and felt so guilty. Why didn't this ever happen with you and me? It was so much easier between us."

Holding the hot coffee in one hand and resting the other on Ryder's shoulder, David gave him an understanding smile. "Because we knew our weaknesses and there was no pressure between us. No high demands to be the perfect partner for each other. We just had fun. That is more difficult in a relationship."

"So it's also different for you with Ric? I always get the feeling that the two of you manage the emotional stuff, including sex, more easily." Curious, he tilted his head back to see David's reaction.

"Maybe we're just practising more," he laughed. "I don't think it's as hard for me to let go of the reins as it is for you. Of course I was scared a lot at first, but I just trusted him. Which doesn't mean it's not complicated sometimes"

"It's complicated with you? Really?" He took a deep breath and sat up so as not to miss anything. "Tell me, I want to know everything."

The sudden attention on his face and the curiosity with which he looked at him brought a slight blush to David's cheeks. "OK, I can't get out of it now anyway. I like to play, but I've realised I can't stand my own games. I tied him to the back of the sofa here. It was a good day, I felt free, so I just did it. It was so much fun, we both enjoyed it."

"You did that? I didn't even know you had that kink, fascinating. That sounds like a 'but' though." He extinguished the cigarette and replaced it with his cup that was waiting on the table.

"Yes, there is one. Afterwards it occurred to me that he might have the idea that it's okay to change roles. For days I panicked that he might try it. I avoided him, even slept here alone again. But of course he realised something was wrong and confronted me." David held the cup in both hands, trying to hold back the tears that the reminder of that moment brought.

"You told him?"

"Yes. With lots of tears and shaking hands." The reddened eyes found Ryder's gaze with a caring smile. "It hurts sometimes to open up like this, but it helps. It helps him to understand me and it helps me to trust him more. It wouldn't be any different with you and Chen if you got out of the 'I'll just withdraw and pretend there's no problem' mode."

As if cut off from all strength, Ryder slumped back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. The coffee sloshed menacingly in his cup. "I don't want to be his problem anymore."

"You're not a problem. You are just as traumatised as I am. He loves you and he should know what's going on inside you."

"He might as well just fuck me until I'm too exhausted to cry."

The deadpan statement made David laugh. "Believe me, you're going to enjoy it more when you don't feel like breaking down anymore. Just like when we were together." He took the cup from his friend's hand, put it back on the table and cuddled up to his chest.

Naturally, Ryders put his arm around his shoulder and squeezed him gently. "Fuck, you're right. What is happening to us, David? We're sitting here talking about the sex in our relationships instead of the best way to hide and survive."

"We still think about that way too much for my liking. It's nice to have alternative topics. And there are others who care about our safety now, it's not just us anymore."

"Still, we can't let our guard down. Vigilance is important."

"You sound like Ric. I'm happy for the little time-outs, I'll leave the extreme paranoia to you," David said with a grin.

Sighing, Ryder tousled his black curls. "Allow little time-outs, now you sound like Chen. We should swap them every now and then."

"Oh that's great, I'll go for a walk with Chen and Spoon and you and Ric can bang your heads together in front of his conspiracy board. Maybe you'll both be more relaxed afterwards and we can all have a nice evening together."

"If you're cooking, I'm in."

"Deal," David said with a grin, sitting up and planting a playful kiss on Ryder's nose.

----

Curious what they are referring to? To these three stories, but be careful, these are nsfw. Learning to love Running late After an excellent dinner

#ockiss24 #fhr sidestep #david kingsley #ryder becker #wonda writes

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greentrickster · 8 months

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chaoticgoodcryptid (from AO3) binghe getting the love and therapy he deserves is always SO good!!! also, YQY x TLJ? I've never considered it before but yeahhhhboi! this version of events is so beautiful, love to see them healing and also venting!! they usually keep all their trauma and messy feelings inside of them, so it's nice to see them doing the equivalent of yelling cathartically/ going to a pottery-breaking room hahaha wonder how they'd be like when they get into a relationship though haha, how would YQY respond to TLJ's shamelessness?

Oh, good question! Thinking about it... hmmm, I think Yue Qingyuan would actually enjoy how shameless Tianlang-jun is. A very large amount of Yue Qingyuan's large problems come from poor communication (on the part of him and other people) and, while Tianlang-jun might hide some of how he's really feeling under a deluge of 8D 8D 8D!!!! at times, he doesn't ever seem to hide the base emotions very much. Like, he might use a cheerful demeanor to hide how much he's hurting, but if he's angry at you, you know, and you will know why because he'll tell you. Again, maybe in a slightly round-about way, but you'll know.

And I think Yue Qingyuan appreciates that, possibly more than he realizes. He loved Shen Jiu flaws and all, part of him likely always will, but neither of them were willing or felt able to talk to each other about their hurts or why they're angry. So having someone who's so in-your-face about his everything, it can probably be overwhelming at times, but it makes things easier long-run.

As well as this, both of them found that Life-Changing Field Trip they took in the Demon Realm very liberating in a lot of ways. Like you said, both of them finally got to vent and have a proper fight (multiple times), get to know each other as people, and get some time to just... be, away from sects and followers and anyone who would judge them for their behaviour. Or, at least, anyone whose opinions they actually care about (currently). It gave them time and opportunity to bleed a lot of the poison out of their wounds.

And this also means that they were with each other after the fighting and the poison bleeding happened, for that tired, worn stage that comes afterwards and leads to healing. Because they're all each other has to lean on at the moment, they've said all they need to say, and they still need to rely on each other to get back to Cang Qiong (and to their preferred sex). I think this is the part where the bonding really started, because the masks were finally and fully down, and they could properly get to know each other.

I like to think that Yue Qingyuan has a mean streak to him, from the days he had to survive in the street; the 'perfect older brother figure' image he presents does have a lot of truth to it, but he's had a lot of pressure on him to be perfect, with this necessity being enforced when he tried to rush with his sword, so I think there's more under there that he's been keeping to himself for years. And I think Tianlang-jun likes this aspect when he learns of it, due to both his demonic and M tendencies. Which I think would be a relief for Yue Qingyuan to experience, to finally drop that mask and have his full self be accepted out of hand (even if it is only because Tianlang-jun initially is still working through his massive load of justifiable trust issues regarding cultivators).

As for Yue Qingyuan, I think he enjoys parts of Tianlang-jun's shamelessness, especially when it comes to affection. He has some limits to what he's willing to do in public, but this man has been affection-starved for decades, and I think he'd enjoy having a partner as openly and ardently devoted as Tianlang-jun can be, and would be happy to be able to return that affection with just as much openness. I feel like Tianlang-jun's vibe when he's in love is some variation of, "Listen, I know first hand how strong you are, and that's really hot, but also let me spoil you like a pampered little miss sometimes, okay?" Yeah, it's embarrassing sometimes, and they probably have some arguments over how much is too much, but overall I think he enjoys having a partner who's so over the top and overt in his affections.

As for Tianlang-jun, Yue Qingyuan's probably pretty different from Su Xiyan (I tend to see her written as being something of a spitfire who takes no crap from anyone (which, good for her)), much quieter and steadier. Willing to push back or stand his ground (post Life-Changing Field Trip, anyways), but generally still giving off that perfect serene immortal cultivator vibe. Which makes it all the more fun that he's willing to drop the act when they're alone together and be more open with his emotions and frustrations. I imagine the level of trust he's willing to place is Tianlang-jun is also kind of heady, and that our demon emperor enjoys how intense and low-key obsessive Yue Qingyuan can be in his love.

I also like the idea that, once they're married, they take turns playing at trophy husband, depending on whose place they are. Both for fun, and for how they balance being the respective heads of the demon realm and Cang Qiong Sect. They aren't the head of the demon realm or Cang Qiong sect when at their husband's house, just the man who their husband married.

Also, they both have really massive bedrooms. Overtly because they're such important, powerful men. Actually because they both have so much cave-related trauma, including a certain amount of claustrophobia.

Also also, all this means that, at some point, Binghe's going to have to deal with the fact that Sect Boss Yue's his stepdad, and I think that's beautiful.

#The Hopeful Hybrid's Househusbanding System #tianlang jun #yue qingyuan #scum villian self saving system #svsss #tianyue

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gabulousxo · 9 months

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Ok.. think about this...

What if, that....

Not only that Logan liked Quinn all along, even though he obviously didn't realize it in the beginning nor would he embrace the idea until S4, but...

What if one of the reasons why he was so mean to her since the beginning was because he was pissed off that she was interested in Mark, chased him, and dated him instead.

Think about it:

Not only is it a weird, yet true fact that teasing/being mean can be a facade for liking someone, (I've dealt with the exprience before myself), ..but what if Logan couldn't stand the idea of Quinn liking Mark. And that's why he'd give her a hard time a lot, because underneath his cocky, douchy behavior, he was jealous that Mark got her first. Even if he didn't realize any of this at first. And honestly, Mark couldn't have cared less about dating Quinn. Let's face it, that relationship was one sided since day 1. Not that Mark didn't like or care about Quinn, but it was very obvious that he only got into that relationship to make Quinn happy.

Anyways though, you gotta wonder if that's a part of why Logan was an ass to Quinn until S4 because he was upset and didn't understand why she was into some wet noodle (as Erin once put it lol) instead of him. And in his own bizarre way, getting on her nerves a lot and pushing each other's buttons was his way of getting closer to her. You know, like from frenemies to friends kinda. Again, even if he let himself believe that his attitude towards her didn't have feelings attached to it.

So then, when Mark broke up with Quinn because he got interested in and starting seeing the new pretty girl, Brooke, behind Quinn's back, ..and later on left her crying alone at a bench, Logan came along and saw her in heartbreak. So wanting to somewhat be a friend, he asks her what's wrong, and reassures her that he really wants to know why she was upset and wants her to open up to him. So when she does, though for a second he thought it was interesting that Mark got a hot girl interested in him, he then changes the subject by telling Quinn that she's better off because Mark was an idiot for letting her go.

Like come on! He openly tells her how idiotic it was of Mark to break up with her. And that her trying to compete with the typical PCA girl image was pointless because being weird, smart, fun, and pretty in her own ways is what makes her "Quinn". And though he didn't flat out say that he liked her, saying this words of encouragement were his way of telling her he liked her for her and that he thinks she was perfect just the way she was. (Then to top it all off, he symbolizes all this by putting on her glasses for her..without asking if he can or advising her to.) THIS ALONE attests to him having underlying feelings all along.

I'll bet a part of him was happy that this happened because now he was able to admit to himself in a natural, zero pressured way that there was something there for him. He may not have known what it meant yet of course, but he had to have felt at that point that Quinn was special to him, that he did care about her, and that now he had an opportunity to let her know that despite their on going frenemy banter and teasing, he was possibly falling for her. And that maybe, ..just maybe he always did have feelings for her. He would just hide them underneath teasing, name calling, and douche bag behavior. As well as hiding the fact that her being with someone else made him unawarely jealous.

But now that she was single again, he had to have felt in that moment that an opportunity to face his attraction and feelings for her head on had presented itself to him, and that this would most likely be his one and only chance to embrace that attraction/feeling, take the leap, and act on it. Otherwise he'd lose any chance he had for good. So he did act by leaning in to kiss her, holding her with both of his hands I might add. I said in a previous post: that to me also symbolized everything above. That he was waiting for the right moment for a long time, and because she had been with Mark for so long, that's why he never overstepped or tried to maneuver his way in. He just let it go and dated countless girls.

Think about this also: in "Quinn Misses The Mark", there's a scene where Logan is trying to get some random girl interested in him. Now he obviously didn't know what was going on with Quinn and Mark yet, but that's my point. Once he found out Quinn was single again, he saw an opportunity and he took it. Afterwards, no other girl had his attention. Nor did he want anyone but Quinn to have it 100%. (Dating wise.)

Ok, so long story short, I honestly believe that part of the reason why Logan was an ass specifically to Quinn in the beginning was because he was unawarely jealous of Mark and that the idea of liking Quinn freaked him out so he'd just cover it up. Until that day he saw her in tears on the bench. Then, ...everything changed. Now, ..jump ahead to 15 yrs later. ❤️

#quinn and logan #quogan #zoey 101 #zoey 102 #quinn pensky #logan reese

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izayoizuki · 1 year

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Mine To Keep Ch. 3

Pairing: Hangman x F!Mitchell!Reader

Because there is no uneventful night at the hard deck.

Warnings: small physical altercation, OC Villain is mean to reader, no specified race/physical descriptors for Reader, Reader can be read as 1/2 white because she is Mav's kid

Wordcount: ~3.7K

Previous Chapter || Masterlist || AO3 || The Receipts Universe

Mine To Keep Chapter 3: Homecoming

"Who was that?" Goose asked, a study in feigned nonchalance, as you slid into the front seat.

"An acquaintance? Honestly I'm not too sure, I just bumped into him, his callsign's Hangman." You fastened your seatbelt as the truck started up. "Anyway, what's got your knickers in a twist?" Thankfully the change in topic worked as his face twisted into a grimace.

"It's about your Godmother..."

"What's wrong? Is everything ok?"

"It's fine it's fine, it's just, our anniversary is coming up, and you know...." You did know, your godfather was a romantic guy to begin with, absolutely crazy about his wife, and he felt extremely guilty about what his career choice had put her through - his words- that he went all out for every occasion that concerned her even remotely.

"Oh yeah... So what are you thinking?"

"Well, that's just it. I've been wracking my brain, but nothing is good enough. Well, that, or I've already done it. So I thought you could help me shop for a gift?" There was indecision in his voice that you rarely heard, and your heart went out to him. You laid a hand on his arm as he swung the truck into a parking lot.

"Of course we can do that! Did you have something particular in mind?" You asked as you both scanned for an empty parking space. It was then that a window display caught your eye. It had an around-the-world trip tableau set up, from the pyramids of egypt to the palaces of Japan and the hanging gardens of Babylon. It was tastefully, painstakingly done, likely by a fresh hire who still hadn't been crushed under the pressure of work, and it caused you to let out an involuntary, dreamy sigh.

"You say something?" Goose asked, still concentrating on circling for a space.

"Nah, it's nothing, just this window display of an around the world trip. I've always wanted to do that."

"You and Carole are two peas in a pod, you know that? She's spoken about those trips as well. In fact, I proposed to her in Florence, and we went to Grenoble for our honeymoon. Of course in those days the force was footing the bill..." he trailed off, reminiscing.

You let out another dreamy sigh. And then the most perfect idea struck you, and you grabbed his arm excitedly "Oh! Why don't you and Roro do the around the world trip?"

"Don't think we haven't considered it, kid," he chuckled light-heartedly, "but there's too many hoops to jump, with the whole work-leave thing and your Godmother's volunteering and-"

"Then what about just for a couple of weeks?" You countered, cutting him off in your excitement, "You could re-create your proposal and honeymoon! THAT could be your anniversary gift- I mean you should take her out to a nice dinner anyway- maybe a beach picnic? Me and rooster and dad could help arrange it of course!- but then the actual present could be the trip! And it'll be the off-season so you'll probably not face the huge crowds! Not to mention you'd save a bundle!"

Goose screeched to a stop in the middle of his nth circle, his eyes trained wide on you. A car honked behind him and it jolted him into response, but now he coasted without looking for a space, his gaze on you. "Could we? Do you think? But what about the dates? The time off work? Should I park in front of the travel agency?"

You shook your head decisively. "No. I can plan the trip better than the travel agent. About the dates..." You grabbed his little agenda book in the cupholder and thumbed through. Dutiful husband that he was, he had his wife's activities pencilled in too. "Roro has a couple of breather weeks, could you get your leave then?" You recited the dates to him and watched his face light up.

"Yeah, that's definitely doable!" He shot out of the parking lot from hell and onto the freeway, pulling the top down on his truck and putting his aviators on. "What do you say we have a pizza night?"

"I'd say it sounds perfect!" You grinned right back, and he pinched your cheek.

"What would I do without you punkin'? I know you won't believe me, but I'll tell you again, you're my kid. We just have you to Mav because he looked all lonely and miserable. And boy do I regret it."

"Oh, I do believe you Unca." you looked him dead in the eye.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! You're where I get my moustache from." You joked, waggling your eyebrows and crossing your eyes, and delighted in hearing his yowl of a laugh.

*****

As you loaded up the pizzas in the car, he spoke up. "How're you gonna book the trip? Should we hit an ATM?" He reached for his wallet.

“No,” You said as you hopped into shotgun. “I’ll put it on your Visa.”

Goose blinked. “Can you do that?”

You smiled at him serenely and focused on fastening your seatbelt.

“Hey, Punkin',” Goose shot you a glance. “If you ever turn to a life of crime, remember I was good to you. Punkin'?” But you just turned the dial up on the radio.

*****

"BULLSHIT!" Rooster cried out. The table had been cleared up and the slosh-click of the dishwasher could be heard throughout as you all sat, cards in one hand and coffee in the other, a half-eaten plate of cannolis sharing the centre with a stack of cards.

"Oh yeah?" Maverick asked, the picture of wounded indignation, as he upturned a pair of hearts on the table, "That's the tone you're gonna take with your Godfather? The one who fed you with his own two hands? The one who changed your diapers? The one who- no no, you gotta pick up 4, c'mon-" Rooster glared daggers as he picked the discarded cards up.

"Speaking of bullshit, Pumpkin over here- five diamonds- has been hanging out with Hangman." Goose informed helpfully, as he laid out his cards face down in the pile.

"I am not "hanging out"- five of- no Roo, it's not your turn! Caro look, Roo is bullying me! Five hearts!- I bumped into him."

"You were sharing a dessert." Goose replied, as he slapped Bradley upside the head.

"I was being nice!" Rooster snorted violently in response, rubbing his smarting skull, even as you indignantly continued, "I was! For heaven's sake, I don't even know the man's name!"

"And yet you were sharing a dessert with him."

"It's Jake, sweetheart," Carole supplied helpfully, "Jake Seresin, I believe." She was met with an en masse stare. "What, you think I don't know all of my son's friends?"

"He's not my friend." Bradley grumbled.

"He saved your life, sweetie," Carole petted Bradley's smarting head.

"He saved our lives." Rooster nudged his head into his mom's hand, amending his statement.

"Don't bring me into this." your dad replied, smartly slapping a couple of cards down.

"It's not your turn, old man! It's mom's!" Roo stuffed Mav's cards back at him. "And you say that as if you're not concerned."

"Listen, I am beyond concerned. But nothing I can say will do any good at this point. I'm just going to be ready with the Kleenex and Ben & Jerry's. You liked the one with that smug comedian's face, right?"

"Wow, your faith in me is astounding on so many levels." you rolled your eyes, kicking Rooster as he tried to peek at the ever-growing stack.

"It might be jubilant tears."

"It might be patricidal tears."

"Is that any way to talk to your father? The man who fruited you from his loins-" you gagged, "The man who put a roof over your head? Besides, why don't you get angry at Carole and Goose, they've been cheating this whole time!" Mav finished plaintively.

This time it was Carole's turn to slap someone upside the head, "Just play your cards, old man."

******

Rooster picked up his phone, hmming and ahhing as he ambled over to you, sticking the phone to your ear.

"Hi?"

"Hey, oh my god! I'm so glad I caught you in time!"

"Hey Natasha, I'm glad too! What's up?"

"Well we were having our girls' night tonight and we were hoping you could join us." Pleasure suffused you as you scrunched the phone between your cheek and shoulder, shooing Bradley away. They'd thought of you. You exercised admirable restraint in not climbing onto the kitchen counters and can-canning.

"Oh, are you sure?" Old reservations reared their head but you tamped them down.

"Of course we are! It'll be fun too! And Penny runs a tight ship at the hard deck so you can actually cut loose. Listen, I have to go, we'll meet up with you at seven?"

"Sounds good!" You said your goodbyes and let her go, mentally squealing with pure joy, even as you picked out what sundress you were going to wear.

"You going out with Phoenix and Halo?" Asked Rooster, who it turns out hadn't been shooed away far enough.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I know the way they order, so you may wanna go easy on the wrap." He grabbed a knife. "Here, I'll help you with that, I'll take half."

*****

Phoenix and Halo were even better company than you'd hoped. Phoenix turned out to be a big reader, and Halo and your music tastes aligned wonderfully, so the conversation came smooth and easy, and above all, it was fun. Bradley had also been right about the way the aviatrixes had ordered; you surveyed the very filled up table, and the massive dent in the portions, with no small amount of awe.

You'd been there a fair while when Bob, Fanboy, Coyote, Rooster and Hangman converged on your group. Hangman casually came to stand behind you as Rooster grabbed a stool and slid in between you and Halo, Bob doing the same on your other side, so that he was between you and Phoenix. Fanboy and Coyote had scooted in between Halo and Phoenix. The manoeuvre was so smooth it was like watching poetry in motion, but even more than that, it was the familiarity of it. As if they had been your friends all your life, as if this was routine, normal, casual, as if all these years, it wasn't just Bradley by your side with no time lost in the middle, but Hangman at your back just as he was now, close enough for his cologne to envelope you, his breath to fan ever so slightly at the top of your head, for his body heat to warm up the skin on your arms. It was homecoming. And you could have almost wept from the sheer comfort of it.

Even as you basked in the sudden wave of emotions, Halo groaned, bringing your zoning out to an end, "Why? One night guys, c'mon."

"Not you Bob, you're fine." Phoenix said, pushing a plate towards him.

"Wow, favouritism much?" Hangman muttered, grabbing a fry over your shoulder, even as Rooster grumbled, and his arm outstretched by your face made your stomach drop, your skin overheat. You could feel downy arm hair- his downy arm hair- against your cheek, and you had tamp down a shiver from going through you- even as you wondered what the everloving hell was wrong with you, to go nuts over arm hair. This night was playing havoc with your emotions.

"Hey, I'd rather be over there myself."

"Not like any of you to be shut out of a poker game this early." Natasha observed. Hangman shifted closer to your back to allow folks to pass by behind him and then stayed there. You could smell the starch in his shirt- lavender and laundry soap- and that pesky shiver was rearing its head again.

"The cards are a fickle mistress." Hangman's quip was directed at Phoenix, but he was looking straight down into your eyes, snake, meet charmer.

Bob snorted. "The cards have nothing to do with it. You have a tell, Bagman."

"Oh yeah-" Jake's hand came to rest on your shoulder as he attempted to reach over with the other, a friendly feint, but Bob had dug into the proffered plate, cheeks chipmunking, and now spoke with his mouth half-full, cutting Jake off as he casually twisted out of his reach.

"So what were ya'll talking about?" he asked, directing the conversation back to you, and it struck you how gentlemanly Bob was. You wanted to adopt him. You compromised by giving him a big grin.

"We were just starting to tell her how we got our callsigns." Phoenix answered her backseater.

"It was probably all lies," Fanboy ribbed.

"So what's your version of the story?" you asked.

"Well, Phoenix here managed to crash and burn every single time she went up during her first week-" Phoenix threw her napkin at him, "And Halo over here manages to be teacher's pet no matter what. That what they tell you?"

You subtly caught eyes with both women before turning back to Fanboy. "Well, they told it better, but yeah." you grinned, and you knew from the way Phoenix squeezed your hand that you'd answered right. "What about the rest of you all?"

Coyote started to answer, but was drowned out by an unwelcome voice.

"What do flying and my dick have in common?" Yeller called from across the far side of the tables, making his way to your group, and you stiffened under Jake's hand. Hangman clocked the change and moved even closer to you, a feat, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You breathed in the altered scent thanks to the fact that he was almost bent over you- now there was expensive perfume mixing in with the starch and soap- and sat ramrod straight.

"They're both hard for you." Yeller made eye-contact with Phoenix as he completed his both crude and demeaning punchline, trying to muscle his way into the circle of the group and failing. "What, no laughter? C'mon, I'm the funniest person I know."

"You must not know very many people then." The words flew out of your mouth before you could even think, a reflex, and the whole group cracked up at the unexpected comeback.

"Thought you weren't taking up the bet, Hangman." Yeller had venom in his voice as the laughter died down, "Didn't know you were into ugly bitches." You knew Hangman was going to move before he knew himself, somehow, though you shelved the thought to the back of your mind to examine later, and subtly pushed your shoulder back into him, grounding him, reminding him. Yeller wanted the reaction, and even though your time with him had been miniscule, you never ever wanted to give Yeller anything he wanted.

"Hey Yeller, what does it say about you that you can't even get those?" You called out instead. Once again, the words were out before you could really think, and you were faintly proud of being able to take care of yourself. Your pride came before a fall though, because that's when everything started to moved in slow motion. You saw Yeller go purple with rage, Yeller's friends push through the crowd, Penny reach for her bell, everyone at the table start to move, Yeller reach for an almost filled stein on a nearby table, Yeller arch out the liquid so that it drenched you from head to toe, Coyote and Fanboy forming a wall in front of Halo, Rooster and Hangman both reaching out to Yeller too late, far too late while Bob tried to push you and Phoenix behind him and you realised with a start that Bob wasn't as much of a puppy that he appeared at first glance, that he was built like a 6'1 stealth missile, even as Bob didn't realise you had caught hold of Rooster and Hangman's sleeves instinctively to hold them back because you knew the ramifications of infighting so that you were all a tangle of arms and heads, all of this like a collage of snapshots someone was searing onto your retinas. Your reaction was even slower. You sputtered, gasping from the cold of the stinking beer, the sticky, terrible feeling of your skin and clothes sticking, the public humiliation in the now-silent bar as your whole body heated up in embarrassment, and you looked up wild-eyed. You were going to cry very soon, but you held it in. You instead scanned till you found Yeller, who was bent over with an arm behind his back, courtesy of Hangman, and walked up to him, your steps measured, steady. You walked right up to him, and squaring your shoulders, knowing that this was probably not the best idea, but also knowing that if you didn't do this, you would regret it your whole life, you socked him on the jaw.

Apparently this had been the right move, because Yeller had a glass jaw and went down like a tonne of bricks, taking the stein in his hand with him.

It was as if the shatter of the beer mug was a cue in a play, and everyone unfroze. Coyote, and Fanboy picked Yeller up and threw him out, Halo went up to Penny to settle group's tab, Phoenix came to you and draped her jacket over your shoulders and Rooster informed you he was bringing his bronco to the front, as Bob gathered your stuff and walked with Rooster, presumably to cool him off. You were glad for it, because you didn't know what exactly you should be doing now. So it was a mercy when Hangman's arm came around you, his hand gripping your farside arm, shepherding you out into the parking lot. You walked out the door and let it shut behind you, the noise cutting away instantaneously, now a muffled faraway made-up-for-tv seeming sound, and it was only you and Hangman and the night sky and the million stars and the still still cars.

It was Hangman who broke the silence.

"Sorry," he said, his arm leaving yours to scratch at the base of his skull, and you missed his heat immediately. You could tell that he was, oddly enough, taking responsibility for the whole scene, battling guilt.

"What for?" You asked, puzzled.

"Huh?" He seemed startled, as if he had expected you to blame him as well. "Well, for that-" he jerked his head in the direction of the bar, and you shook your head, trying to make sense.

"What part of that was your doing?" You asked him gently, and now it was his turn to shake his head. "I should thank you," you laughed softly, and his head jerked up, his eyes trained on your face, "For holding him so still."

"Wha- oh. Yeah." He hung his head, scratching the back of his head again, "Yeah, you pack quite a punch huh?" He laughed a small laugh, but you could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"Oh come onnnn, what's with the aw-shucks-i'm-just-a-humble-farmer routine? Where's my Hangman? I want him back!" You demanded, and that seemed to be the key, because his eyes caught yours and stayed caught, drilling into you, some kind of dark heat in them that had warmth blooming in your chest despite your physical state and you didn't know when the both of you had moved this close to each other but-

A large honk sounded from the Bronco and you both jumped, landing further apart than you initially were as headlights highlighted you in the pitch night.

"C'mon, I'm dropping you home, I've got all your stuff!" Rooster called out, dangling your purse from his fingertips like he was showing off a hostage.

"In a minute!" You called back, already starting to turn towards the truck.

"Hey, listen-" Hangman started to reach out, his fingertips to your arm, before jamming his hands into his pockets like he'd been singed. You had no time to read into the gesture because he started speaking again. "Listen, I know the evening didn't go the way-"

"You thought the evening was going to go a way?" You accidentally cut him off in your amusement, and he just shrugged good-naturedly, and you realised what you'd done and spoke up again. "I had a fun time," you assured him.

"Oh come off it," he scoffed.

"No, I'm serious, the whole evening was really nice and even the end it was kinda...", You were picking and choosing your words very carefully, "cool." You finished.

"Cool, huh?" His mouth tipped up in one corner and you felt yourself heat up.

"Listen, how about this," he said earnestly, "Come to beach tomorrow."

"The beach?"

"Yeah, we have this thing..."

"Thing?"

"It's complicated, I'll explain the rules as we go. Just wear something you don't mind burning up."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Just... Trust me, ok?" And the utter contriteness in his voice, his obvious need to make this better that he couldn't keep out, even though he'd done nothing to warrant it, had you nodding.

"Ok. But I better have fun."

"Bet on it." He grinned.

*****

The ride to the house had been silent, and you'd both trooped over to your house, or rather, Rooster had fun doing his frog-marchy bit with you. Sometimes you thought he'd rather like to put you in a duvet cover and fling you about again, but you weren't going to test your theory. Instead, you let yourself be shoved into the bathroom with a "You stink," as if Rooster hadn't made this amply clear with the way he'd spread out towels on the shotgun seat. When you came out though, warmed and lotioned and smelling exponentially better than when you'd gone in, and wearing your softest sleeping t-shirt, you were willing to forgive him, because on your bedside sat a big bowl of ice cream and the TV switched on and frozen on the opening shot of "You've Got Mail". You grinned to yourself as you slid between your sheets. You'd always had a special spot for the movie. You didn't know why.

***

tagging: @therebeccaw @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @dempy @bluboop

#hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun 1986

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the---hermit · 4 months

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Hello! I hope you're doing well.

With the new year (Does 4th of january still count as new year?) I just wanted to tell you that I really look up to you and that you are a bit of a role model for me. You just seem to have your life put together so well. I know one should never take things posted on the internet at face value and that lifes that look perfect on the internet are oftentimes not perfect at all, but I don't think your life is perfect, just that it's good. I would like my life to be a bit more like yours. I hope that doesn't sound weird.

So as my new years resolution I've decided to have a bit more discipline. To stop dreaming about all the things I could do and actually do them. I read more books and actually started gathering ideas for a novel that's been bouncing around in my head for a while now. I even want to start posting reviews of books that I read on goodreads!

So I guess I wanted to tell you thank you for being such a great inspiration and motivation for me. <3

(Also, I'm not sure how this could be taken, but please don't take this as pressure or anything. I don't know if this could be taken as pressure, but if it can, please don't! Just keep being you. You're great!)

💜

Hello anon! I was not expecting to get something like this happy new year to you too!

this was really sweet <3 but i feel like i need to address the fact that my life is definitely not perfect and i have very little control over it. I think i am pretty skilled at keeping in organized and have a good control over the small things like planning what i have to study and small goals, but i am far from having things figured out. What i mean is that we are all on the same boat of trying to do something we are satisfied with in our lives and also trying to be happy while we do that.

I am very happy to hear you are this motivated to finally get to your goals and i wish you the best of luck! those sound like really cool projects and i hope you will keep me updated in the future on how things go! in the years there have been a few reaccurring anons that felt like sharing the progress of their adventures and it always makes me happy when it happens!

thank you for taking some time off your day to write this to me, it was really sweet and it brings me a lot of joy that my tiny corner of the internet can be a happy place for others.

#this truly put a smile on my face i was not expecting something like this #this blog started as a place to hold myself accountable and find the motivation i had lost and then turned into my daily journal #best of lucks anon i am sending you an internet hug #ask #asked #asks #answered #cris speaks #anon #the---hermit

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white-nolse · 11 months

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I agree with your tags about that one post you reblogged with hcs and people just basically going too far with their takes! With that being said, I would love to hear YOUR headcanons on Kakyoin that you feel really ride closest with canon, please feed us kak stans who have been suffering for too long ;W;

Anon, you have no idea how much I lost my mind reading this. Like- I've been trying to think of a way to answer this while still being coherent ALDKSKSKS

Now, this is MY PERSONAL interpretation of Kakyoin. A really dear friend helped me shape his backstory in a way that felt more... Natural (?) For the time he lived while also keeping the little information about him that Araki gave us.

So...

Obviously, his lonely background stays the same. He didn't have anyone as he grew up, which caused him to be pretty bad at "normal" social interactions. Now, to my headcanons/backstory:

The Kakyoin I have for my personal lore (and shared with friends) is actually the heir and next chairman to JVC, a japanese electronics empire funded on 1927.

Unlike a lot of people, I don't think he had a good relationship with his parents. I mean- we're talking about Japan in the 80's, it is most likely that they were strict as hell. This, mixed with what I said above, left him living a pretty hard life, with parents that controled pretty much everything about his life (acquaintances, the way he dressed, even what he ate), they just seaked for perfection, not caring about his opinion on things.

Because of his stand, and the pressure over him, he felt like an outsider, which gave his parents more reasons to believe he wasn't able to think by himself.

His parents even went as far as trying get her to marry the heiress of another company in order to inherit it.

Obviously, being himself and not liking to be under someone's foot, he rebelled against them as much as he could.

All this explains why he always acts so proper yet awkward, and why he is so sassy and "mean" when he is comfortable. And also why he didn't care about at least letting his parents know he was fine, or why they didn't look for him at all.

So, during a trip to Egypt, his parents got tired of him acting up, leaving him in the city with almost no cash and only the number of the Japanese embassy, as a way to teach him a lesson and show him how helpless he was without them.

Kakyoin, wanting to show not only his parents, but also himself that he was capable of everything, used his stand to steal things in oder to survive, and this caught DIO's attention.

And DIO, being the smooth talker he is, offered him "a job" at his manor. Kakyoing felt there was something weird about him, but it still was better than nothing.

His original plan was to work for him and save enough as to start living by himself, yet wanted to leave when the SDC events were about to start, hence the reason he ended with a fleshbud.

#mape talks #kakyoin my beloved #My headcanons #kakyoin noriaki #stardust crusaders #anon ask #Being bold and using main tags #I'm really sorry if I didn't write this in a good way I panicked a lot AKKDKDKSK #q

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