#twist: these are both happening at the same time

[undeadorion]

The important thing is that friendship is not an equivalent exchange. But both sides should be making those little sacrifices. When one does and the other doesn't, that's when problems happen. That's what being friends is.

I once tried to explain this concept to a "friend" and it went so poorly. They twisted it to say I expected an exchange. I'd let them live with me when escaping a bad relationship. I stayed up all night at the hospital with them while their partner was in the ER. I gave up so much for them, only ever expecting them to be my friend in return. That eventually, some day, they'd be there for me. The time came where our roles were reversed. They were in a much better place and I was in a much worse one. And they couldn't even be bothered to give me 10 minutes when all I needed was a friend to tell me everything would be okay, and they couldn't even do that much. Eventually I realized, they treated me very differently than their other friends. Especially publicly. And when I hit rock bottom in my life and was essentially homeless (crashing with a different friend) all they could do was harass me about my progress in a video game.

My mistake in trying to explain this very basic concept to them was using those other friends as an example of what they weren't doing for me. I never expected the exact same. It was just "you treat them as friends in public, you do things for them that even I can see. I just want something like that." And somehow that got twisted into me demanding free art out of them (because they did that for some of those people).

Not everyone can give the same, and not everyone shows their affections in the same way. But if someone who calls themself your friend has shown themselves capable of making those little sacrifices for others but won't do the same for you, get out of there. Find you people who WILL do that for you.

the commodification of friendship is the most annoying thing to come out of the internet in ages. like actually i love to break this to you but you're supposed to help your friends move even if it's hard work. or stay up with them when they're sad even if you're gonna lose sleep. you're supposed to listen to their fears and sorrows even if it means your own mind takes on a little bit of that weight. that's how you know that you care. they will drive you to the airport and then you will make them soup when they're sick. you're supposed to make small sacrifices for them and they are supposed to do that for you. and there's actually gonna be rough patches for both of you where the balance will be uneven and you will still be friends and it will not be unhealthy and they will not be abusive. life is not meant to be an endless prioritization of our own comfort if it was we would literally never get anywhere ever. jesus.

[lvnleah]

broken bonds | no more secrets.

here’s a little two part fic to haydens loan back in 2023 before the World Cup 🫶🏻

this is part two, find part one here

You didn’t speak to Kyra again. 

Not that day. 

Not the next. 

Not when you left Hammarby, limping through the airport on crutches. 

Not when you boarded the flight back to London with your leg in a cast and your heart just as broken.

You never told anyone what happened in that room. Not the physios, not your agent. Not Beth. Not Viv. You didn’t even tell them how bad the fracture really was. You just smiled and said, “It’ll heal.”

But part of you knew it’d never be the same, you had a feeling that your career was changing forever. 

After a long few months of being sat on the sideline, watching the world cup from home with Beth and Viv who were also injured, it was finally September. It was finally time for you to be back playing. 

You thought being back at Arsenal would’ve been good for you but it proved to be completely different. It was far from a fresh start. 

In fact, it felt like things with Kyra were never ending. 

After watching her from afar over the summer, secretly being proud about her World Cup performance, she had ended up singing for Arsenal. 

You hated her for it.

You hated the way she walked into your space like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t been there that day, crouched beside you when everything went to shit. Like she hadn’t caught the tail end of Luca shouting at you, hadn’t seen the worst moment of your life play out in real time.

And then just left.

You’d spent months trying to block it all out. Trying to forget about what had happened on the pitch, the injury, the screaming, the silence. You thought you were done with it. Done with her.

But now she was here. In your changing room, in your team. Laughing with Caitlin, getting tips from Kim, walking through Colney like she belonged.

It made your stomach twist.

Every time she touched the ball in training, you felt a spike of something hot in your chest. Anger, jealousy, guilt. It was probably all three.

You avoided her, glared when she got paired with you in drills, kept your answers clipped when she spoke to you. Steph picked it up one day in the gym. 

“H, what is the issue between you and Kyra?” She asked as you both stretched on the mat. “She’s a nice girl, she’s annoying, but give her a chance. She didn’t mean for things to happen like that in Sweden.”

You shrugged, staring at the floor like it might offer you an escape route. “There’s no issue.”

Steph gave you that look, the one that could get anything out of you. “You barely look at her. You train like you’ve got a personal vendetta. That’s not nothing.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. What were you even supposed to say? 

Steph waited. Quiet, steady, patient.

“I just don’t rate her,” you said eventually, but it came out sharp. Too sharp. Defensive.

Steph raised a brow. “That’s not it.”

You scoffed. “It is.”

“H.”

“What?”

“She’s good. You know she is.”

You clenched your jaw and looked away. Because she was. And it made it worse.

“She didn’t even say anything,” you muttered, more to yourself than to Steph. “After everything. She just…disappeared.”

Steph was quiet for a long moment. Then, “You ever think maybe she didn’t know what to say?”

Of course you had. Of course you’d wondered. Maybe Kyra thought you blamed her. Maybe she blamed herself. Maybe it had all been too big, too heavy for either of you to carry.

“I don’t care,” you lied.

Steph didn’t push it. She just nodded like she knew it wasn’t true. “You should talk to her.”

You shook your head immediately. “No.”

“H, this team doesn’t need tension. We’ve got enough to fight without fighting each other.”

You looked at Steph then, met her eyes. She wasn’t accusing. Just reminding you of the standard. The responsibility. The truth.

“I’ll handle it,” you said eventually.

Steph gave a quiet hum, stood, and offered you a hand. “Do it before Jonas picks up on it.”

You took her hand, let her pull you to your feet. “Yeah.”

But you didn’t talk to Kyra that day.

Or the next.

You thought she was ignoring what happened. Pretending nothing was wrong but then you started to notice things.

The way she hung back after sessions, trying to get a handle on Jonas’ system. The way she missed simple rotations, hesitated in transition, looked lost without the freedom she’d had at Hammarby.

She wasn’t laughing as much, not when she thought no one was watching. She didn’t sit with anyone at lunch. She scrolled through her phone more than she talked.

And yeah, Arsenal was a hard club to settle into. The standards were sky-high, the tempo unforgiving. And the English weather? Not exactly welcoming.

But this was Kyra. She didn’t usually struggle.

Yet here she was, head down, eyes tired, moving through training like she didn’t want to get in anyone’s way.

And suddenly, you didn’t feel angry anymore. You felt something else. Something quieter.

Empathy, maybe.

Or regret for being a dickhead towards her.

So the next time you saw her sitting alone in the canteen, staring into her coffee like it held the answers, you didn’t walk past.

You slid into the seat across from her.

She blinked, clearly surprised. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you said, picking at the edge of your protein bar wrapper. “You settling in okay?”

She hesitated then shrugged. “Trying to.”

You nodded slowly, then looked up. “Listen… I was a dick to you. At Hammarby… and maybe afterwards. When you got here.”

Kyra’s eyes softened. “You were hurt. I get it.”

“No,” you said. “I mean… yeah, I was hurt. But I was also scared. And embarrassed. And I took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”

She let out a breath like she’d been holding it for weeks. “I wanted to say something. Back then. But after that day… I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

You didn’t. Not then.

But now, sitting across from her, watching the guarded look in her eyes, you wished you had.

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you meant it.

Kyra smiled. It was small, but real. “Me too.”

There was a beat of silence. Then you cleared your throat.

“Let me make it up to you,” you said, standing and grabbing your empty water bottle. “Come out with me this weekend? I’ll show you around. Get you a decent coffee for once.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You sure?”

You shrugged, grinning a little. “It’s London. Someone’s gotta teach you how to cross a road without dying.”

“Alright,” she said, eyes glinting. “But I’m picking the coffee place next time.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, something shifted.

Maybe things weren’t perfect. Maybe they never would be. But maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to stay broken.

[lee-laurent]

The Heat in Hampton

Summary: Natalia and Quinn have a summer fling in the Hamptons.

content: alcohol, drug use (smoking weed), angst, implied smut

wc: 9.5k

notes: new fic!! this isn't the one i had planned to come out first, but it ended up coming to me more easily so here it is! not proofread, so sorry if there are any mistakes! enjoyyy!! more fics to come

The mini champagne bottle popped like a gunshot, and Riley screamed even though she was the one holding it.

"Jesus," Zoey laughed from the backseat, shielding her phone with one hand as she tried to film the moment without soaking it in sticky bubbles. "Point it away from my face next time, psycho."

Claressa (better known as Essa), in the driver's seat, didn't flinch. She turned the music up instead. The windows were down, the salty air pouring in, and the sun was low but blinding over the ocean. Natalia tipped her head back against the seat, sunglasses sliding down her face, a lazy half-smile forming on her lips.

They were almost there.

The Hamptons surrounded them, hedges and gravel driveways, shops with names that just made it obvious they were expensive, couples in tennis whites crossing the street even as traffic moved toward them. Natalia let it all pass by like she wasn't really seeing it, just another summer town. But the second the car turned onto the long driveway leading up to her parents' summer house, her chest twinged with something. Excitement, missed with a splash of nostalgia.

"We made it!" Riley said, raising her now half-empty bottle. "To a summer of mistakes but no regrets!"

"Regrets are character-building," Claressa muttered, but raised her water bottle anyway.

Natalia gave a half-hearted cheer and twisted the volume down. "Let's not get too dramatic on the first day."

"Oh, shut up," Zoey said, reaching over the console to grab some tissues. "You love this shit."

Natalia didn't argue. She just grabbed her bag from the floor and shoved the car door open.

Inside, the house was all polished wood floors and linen everything. It smelled faintly of fresh laundry and Natalia felt something in her shift, the weird click in her brain that always happened when she walked into the house. She hadn't been there since the summer before, but nothing had changed. Not the shell-shaped soap in the bathrooms or the white curtains that always fluttered too much when the windows were open. It was curated serenity. Her mom's aesthetic.

Riley immediately dropped her duffel bag in the entryway and kicked off her sandals. "Same rooms?"

"No," Zoey said, already making a beeline for the biggest bedroom upstairs. "I'm claiming the one with the balcony this year. I need room for my morning stretch. And fresh air is, like, good for a soul."

"You're disgusting," Claressa called after her, following more slowly with both bags in hand.

Nat hung back, letting them all scatter, and took a slow lap around the kitchen. The same bowl of fake, styrofoam lemons on the counter. The wine fridge humming quietly. She opened the sliding glass doors that led to the pool deck and stepped outside, bare feet hitting the warm tile.

The pool sparkled in the light. Somehow clean, as if it hadn't been a week since her parents had last been there.

~~

By the time they'd all picked rooms and dumped out their overpacked bags, it was late afternoon. The sun stretched lazily over the backyard, and the girls were spread out on lounge chairs in bikinis that covered nothing, drinks in hand, music playing through a Bluetooth speaker.

Riley scrolled through her camera roll, deleting doubles from the drive. "Okay, my hair is like glowing in this one. Like, should I just go blonde for real?"

"Do it," Zoey said, already lighting up a joint with a practiced flick. "Blondes get away with more."

Claressa side-eyed her from behind oversized sunglasses. "You're literally brunette."

"Yeah, and I don't get away with jackshit."

Natalia snorted and took a sit of her spritz. She was in her favourite black bikini, the one that made her look like she had more curves than she did, stretched long on the lounger like she didn't have a worry in the world. But her phone buzzed against her thigh, and she peeked at it.

U in town??

Last summer's mistake. Cute, tall, zero personality.

She didn't respond.

"Who's that?" Riley asked, peering over.

"No one."

"Liar."

Nat shrugged. "Just someone trying to be a plotline again."

Claressa laughed. "That's a new one."

"Is it, though?" Natalia tilited her sunglasses down. "It's always the same shit."

The girls all nodded. It was true. It happened every summer.

~~

Later, they dragged patio cushions into a circle and passed around Zoey's joint until the sun finally dipped below the trees. Someone opened a regular-sized bottle of champagne. Someone else had put on a new playlist. Nat leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the darkening sky, breathing in the fresh air.

"This summer," Riley announced, "we are NOT falling for anyone. Not even a little bit."

"Speak for yourself," Zoey said, but without much heat.

"No," Nat said, and the others looked over. "She's right. We're not doing that shit again."

"No drama."

"Just tan lines and too much booze," Riley echoed, then raised a brow at Nat. "And maybe try not to ruin any lives this time?"

"I didn't ruin any lives," Natalia rolled her eyes.

Zoey let out a cackle. "Bullshit, Nat. You need to come with a fucking disclaimer. Warning: She's not actually into you at all."

Nat flipped her off in response.

By nine, the buzz had faded and they were all pulling clothes from their half-unpacked bags and digging for makeup.

"Where are we even going?" Essa asked from the bathroom, swiping gloss on her bottom lip.

"Montauket," Riley said, pulling a tiny skirt over her hips. "That rooftop bar with the ocean view? It's supposed to be packed on weekends."

Nat leaned over the bathroom sink, curling her lashes in the mirror. "Packed with who, though?"

"Rich boys who know how to lie," Zoey said, voice muffled as she changed behind the door.

"Perfect," Nat said dryly. She wasn't even sure she felt like going out. But it was tradition, and traditions had a way of pulling her in.

She added one final coat of mascara and stepped back, giving herself a once-over. The mirror reflected back a version of herself she knew well--sparkling eyes, glossed lips, tanned skin, a shirt that made her tits look amazing.

Summer Natalia.

The one who regretted nothing until the end of the trip.

She tucked her lip gloss into her bra and turned to the others. "Let's go have some fun!"

Zoey grinned. "Let's get fucked up!"

~~

Montauket was already packed by the time the girls got there. Bass-heavy music spilled out from the rooftop, shaking the strings of lights that hung overhead. The crowd was pressed tight at the bar, the humidity from the summer air making everything that much warmer.

Natalia adjusted the strap on her low-backed shirt as they climbed the steps. The fabric clung to her, the fabric of her jean skirt riding up her thighs with each stair. She sipped from her margarita the second it was handed to her, the salt rim already sticky from condensation.

The rooftop shimmered. Partly the heat, partly the alcohol. Groups were laughing too loudly, people leaning in too closely. Somewhere behind her, Zoey was ordering shots. Essa scanned the patio like she was on a mission. Riley had already disappeared into the crowd.

Nat was trying to take it all in, leaning against the railing, letting the burn of the tequila cut through the sugar in her drink. She liked people watching when they weren't looking back.

That's when she saw him.

He wasn't the type you noticed right away. He wasn't loud or trying. That's what caught her off guard. There was something about the way he stood, shoulders relaxed, chin tilted slightly as he listened to one of his friends. He had a beer in his hand, but it was more like a prop, like drinking it wasn't the point.

Brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. A white t-shirt and a Yankees cap. Athletic, but not showy. She couldn't see him perfectly, but she could tell from the conversation around him that he didn't feel the need to say much.

He looked... calm. Unbothered. And completely at ease.

He was surrounded by people. Two other guys that she clocked immediately as brothers, one with the same jawline but louder, the other a little younger, bouncing on his heels like he couldn't sit still. A couple more circled the edges: tall, cocky, all expensive sneakers and smirks.

She took another sip of her margarita. "Boys," she mumbled under her breath.

"See something you like?" Essa appeared at her side, a vodka soda in hand, smirking.

"Just people-watching."

"Uh-huh." Essa tilted her head. "You mean the quiet one?"

Nat just shrugged, her friends knew her too well.

It was Claressa who made the first move. She always did. She weaved through the crowd with ease, and by the time Natalia caught up, she was already talking to the group. Easily, like she wasn't surrounded by six boys who looked like they belonged in a GQ spread.

"--your tables in our spot," she was saying, cocking a brow as if it was her bar, not just a place she'd had to Google the hours of.

The loudest of the three brothers, Jack, Natalia would later learn, laughed like it was the best pickup line he'd ever heard. "Then I guess we owe you a drink."

"Or three," Zoey said, sliding in with her tray of shots like she'd been summoned.

"Fuck it," another guy said... Alex, maybe? "Let's merge."

And just like that, the night shifted.

Their groups blended together seamlessly. Essa and Jack were already halfway through some sort of debate about the best bars on Long Island. Zoey lit a cigarette for someone she hadn't even introduced herself to. Luke, the youngest one, was trying to explain something to Riley she definitely wasn't sober enough to remember.

Natalia, meanwhile, found herself across from him.

The quiet one.

He wasn't trying to talk to her. But every time she looked up, he was there. Watching, not staring. Clocking everything and saying nothing.

Eventually, he moved closer, just enough to make it obvious.

She glanced at him over the rim of her drink. "You're not much of a talker, huh?"

He shrugged. "Not when I don't have anything to say."

She hadn't expected him to sound like that. Low, but not shy.

"But when you do?"

His lips curved into a half-smile. "Then I say it."

Nat leaned herself more on the table. "What's your name?"

"Quinn."

Simple.

"I'm Natalia."

He nodded like he already knew.

She raised a brow. "You come here a lot, Quinn?"

"First time."

"Ah, so you're just winging it?"

He looked around the chaos of their joined group and then back at her. "Seems like it's working out."

She smiled into her drink. "You don't seem like a Montauket kind of guy."

"What kind of guy do I seem like?"

She tilted her head, studying him. "Hmm. The kind who watches everyone else go before he jumps in."

"And you're the kind who likes to be watched?"

She didn't flinch, just held his gaze. "Sometimes."

The air between them shifted. The kind that filled her chest without warning.

He didn't move closer, didn't reach out, but his eyes didn't waver from hers, either.

"Party's this weekend," Natalia said, as casually as she could, even though her pulse was suddenly in her throat.

Quinn's lip quirked up.

"At our place," she clarified. "We throw one every summer. Well... several. This is just the first."

"Is that an invitation?"

She shrugged. "Could be."

"Then I guess we'll be there."

He didn't ask where. Didn't ask when. Just said it like it was fact.

Natalia held her gaze for a few seconds longer than she needed to, then turned to help Zoey steal fries off one of the guys' plate.

When she eventually glanced back to Quinn, he was still there, watching the chaos.

But this time... with a smile on his face.

~~

Nat stood in front of the mirror, squinting at her reflection like it might offer some kind of clarity.

"I hate everything I brought," she said, even though she'd tried on three different dresses and looked good in all of them.

"You say that every year," Essa called from the hallway. "And every year, you end up in something that makes people fall for you."

Natalia rolled her eyes but didn't argue. She tugged the second dress back over her head, adjusting it so that it clung to her in all the right places. She didn't do a full face of makeup. Mascara, a swipe of bronzer, and a cherry stain on her lips that made it look like she'd already kissed someone.

She touseled her curls with her fingers, debating whether to tame the frizz, then let them be. It was summer, the heat was going to make them messy.

From the other room, she heard the screen door slam and Riley yell, "Okay but if your Montauket guy doesn't show up, you have to do a shot with me!"

"He's not mine," Natalia said, stepping out into the hall.

Riley grinned. "Didn't say he was. But he did eye-fuck you from across the bar for like, forty-five minutes."

Zoey passed her four shot glasses in hand. "That's basically foreplay for straight men."

Natalia took one of the glasses and tossed it back, the burn sliding down her throat. "We talked for five minutes."

Essa's brows shot up as she walked past with a bundle of string lights. "And you invited him to our first party of the summer. That's not nothing."

"It's a party," Nat said. "I invited their whole group."

"Yeah," Zoey said, grinning. "And I don't even remember any of their names except Jack, because he wouldn't shut up."

Nat walked to the back doors and pushed them open. The sun was still setting, streaking the sky in orange. The pool shimmered, speakers blasted music, fairy lights were strung everywhere, coolers on the glass, patio chairs scattered everywhere.

It was perfect.

Somewhere across town, Quinn was staring into the fridge.

"Okay, but do we actually know where this party is?" Alex asked, tossing a ping pong ball at the kitchen wall.

Jack sprawled on the couch with a beer balanced on his chest. "The one girl said it's off Montauk Highway, past the beach club, second right after the white fence."

"That is a terrible set of directions," Trevor said, snatching the ball mid-air. "We're gonna get kidnapped."

"We're going," Jack declared, sitting up. "I didn't flirt my way through some aggressively competitive conversation about Long Island just to skip this."

Luke was already in a linen shirt and cologne that reeked of something way too expensive for a twenty-one-year-old. "We're absolutely going."

Quinn leaned against the kitchen counter, quietly unscrewing the cap of his water bottle. He hadn't said much all day. He'd gone on a run that morning, scrolled through Spotify for too long trying to find a playlist that matched the weird feeling in his chest.'

And now, standing barefoot in a kitchen full of idiots, he wasn't thinking about the party.

He was thinking about her.

Natalia. The girl who hadn't asked a single thing about him except his name, but already seemed like she knew him. She was the kind of pretty that made you look twice. The kind you didn't bother to chase because you already knew she wouldn't wait for you.

"You coming, Q?" Jack asked, cracking open another beer.

Quinn shrugged. "Guess so."

"You guess?" Luke said. "That girl was hot. Like dangerously hot."

"You guys are embarrassing," Quinn muttered, walking past them.

He disappeared into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror, thinking for a second.

Then he grabbed his cologne.

~~

People started to spill in, some invited, some not, but no one cared. The speakers blasted a mix of 2000s throwbacks and remixes. Someone was already in the pool, red cups were appearing in everyone's hands like magic.

The girls were in motion, half-hosting, half-partying. Zoey was mixing drinks like a mad scientist while Riley took shots with some girls she swore she knew from somewhere.

Meanwhile, Nat was floating between groups, trying to keep cool, her curls brushing her bare shoulders. She smiled when she had to, took shots when they were handed to her. But every time someone new walked through the gate, she felt it in her spine.

Why are so obsessed? she asked herself. What are you hoping for?

The last time she'd hoped for a guy, it ended with him telling her you're not enough in a hundred different ways without ever saying the actual words in a voicemail she never returned. She still couldn't listen to certain songs without thinking of him and feeling stupid.

She didn't do that anymore. Now it was hookups, party boys, summer flings. Clean cut lines with simple endings.

She sipped from her glass and watched the lights flicker against the water. Then she saw him.

He came in behind Jack and Luke, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn't sure if this was the right place. He scanned the yard, then his eyes landed on her... and stopped.

Their eyes locked.

His shoulders relaxed, like making eye contact with her confirmed something for him.

Game on.

Natalia held his gaze, before Riley sidled up beside her, whispering, "Well, looks like your boy did show up after all."

~~

It was hot, like way too hot for how dark it was outside, and everyone smelled like bug spray and sweat. Jack had taken his shirt off and was mid-dance with with Zoey near the edge of the pool, both of them laughing way too hard to be sober. Luke was climbing onto a raft with beer in hand and zero concern for personal safety.

Nat laughed when Riley shrieked, stumbling back in her platform sandals as Luke splashed water at her. But Nat's eyes still managed to find Quinn.

He hadn't moved much.

He was standing near the bar now, talking to Alex and some guy she didn't know, but his eyes were on every time she looked. But she wasn't going to crack first.

She was the host. She was busy.

Well... sort of.

Inside the house, Essa was weaving through the crowd with a seltzer can in hand.

"Stop moving the speaker," she snapped at a guy she vaguely recgonized from last summer. "Seriously. It's not yours."

Trevor popped up beside her with a lazy grin and a half-empty beer. "I was just about to come find you."

"I'm busy," she said without missing a beat.

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"You look good tonight."

"Thank you," she said, finishing her drink and immediately looking for another one. "Still not interested."

"Playing hard to get?"

"No. Just... not playing."

Trevor smirked and stepped aside, letting her pass. She didn't bother hiding her eye roll.

Nat handed someone a bottle opener, smiled at a group of friends-of-friends who were complimenting the setup, and gave a half-hearted thank you to a guy who told her she looked incredible.

She didn't care.

She could feel Quinn somewhere nearby. She wasn't going to look. She wasn't going to search.

But then he was there. Close.

She turned slightly, pretending to reach for a napkin, and brushed his arm.

He didn't flinch. Instead, he looked down at her, eyes catching hers like a magnet.

"Is crashing parties at random girls' houses your thing?" she asked.

He smirked. "You invited me."

"You didn't exactly RSVP."

Quinn's gaze dropped to the dips in her dress, then back up. "Figured showing up was enough."

She tilted her head. "Cocky."

"You're not?"

Natalia smiled into her drink, then looked up at him again. "I'm just good at knowing when I'm wanted."

He didn't say anything, but the corner of his mouth twitched very slightly, like he was trying to hold back a smirk. He stepped a bit closer, enough that she could feel the heat of his body.

Someone bumped into her from behind, laughing loudly, and Natalia stumbled forward just slightly. Her hand landed on Quinn's arm to steady herself, letting it linger on his bicep before she removed it.

He looked down at his arm, shaking his head slightly.

"Told you," she murmured. "You like this kind of thing."

"Which kind?"

She smiled. "Girls who know what they want."

As he was about to answer, the music shifted to something slow and bass-heavy. People started to filter out onto the lawn again. She saw Zoey sitting fully on Jack's lap, gesturing wildly as she told a story.

And even if she was looking outside, Nat's entire body was tilted toward Quinn.

They weren't really talking anymore. Her breath hitched when his hand found her waist, thumb brushing the fabric of her dress like he was testing it.

She let him.

They stood like that for a few moments, the party around them, neither of them willing to break their silence.

"I'm working... hosting," she said.

"Yeah?" his voice was low. "Doing a great job."

She turned, brushing past him, shoulder grazing his chest.

"Come with me."

~~

The hallway was cooler, dimmer, and empty compared to the kitchen and living area. Natalia walked slowly, heartbeat in her throat. She glanced over her should and he was right there. Hands in his pockets, mouth parted slightly, watching her as she led the way.

They stopped halfway down the hall.

She leaned against the wall, looking up at him like she wasn't sure who was going to make the next move.

He was closer now.

She laughed, quiet and breathy, and leaned into him slightly.

"I hate how much I wanna kiss you."

Quinn didn't laugh. He just pressed forward, hand on her waist again, his other braced on the wall. Their foreheads almost touched, lips close, heat rising between them.

The first kiss hit hard.

Her back hit the wall, and his mouth was on hers, rough and urgent. Teeth, lips, a gasp of air. He kissed her like their were mid-argument and this was how they fought. Like they'd both been waiting for this moment since the night before at Montauket.

His hand slid down her back, against the curve of her spine. His mouth dropped to her jaw, his breath hot against her skin. She gasped, tightening her grip on his shirt.

Her head dropped back. "Bedroom?"

He nodded as she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall without looking back.

The guest room door slammed shut behind them.'

Nat practically shoved him down toward the bed and he pulled her down with him.

Her dress was half off, straps slipping from her shoulders. She straddled him, kissing him again, even harder if that was possible.

Short breaths. Nothing slow. No teasing.

It wasn't sweet or careful. But it was good.

So good she had to catch her breath after, sweat cooling on their skin, her head against his chest.

Then Quinn shifted and she let him go.

He stood quietly, back turned, grabbing his shirt from the floor. His chest still rose and fell like he hadn't caught up yet. Natalia sat up, resting on her elbows, curls falling around her shoulders, the straps of her dress still dangling down her arms.

He didn't really look at her as he got dressed. Just pulled on his shirt, buttoned his pants. No rush, but no lingering either.

Then finally, as he reached the door, he glanced back.

Expression unreadable.

"See you back out there," he said.

Cool.

Too cool.

The door clicked shut.

Natalia exhaled slowly, dropping onto her back, arms flung out across the bed like she'd just run a marathon. Her skin still buzzed, her lips still tingled. But maybe that was just the alcohol.

But her head?

Clear.

She stared at the ceiling fan above her, let her eyes unfocus.

There wasn't any disappointment, any regret.

She felt good. Amazing, actually. Loose-limbed, a little wrecked, but centred. Like she'd scratched an itch she hadn't even realized had been burning under her skin.

She stretched once and let herself smile.

"Cool. Perfect... got exactly what I needed."

~~

The next morning, Nat padded into the kitchen, hair damp from her shower and curling at the ends. She wore an oversized shirt and her thong, legs slightly sore from last night's adventures. The memory was burned onto the back of her eyes, Quinn's hands on her hips, the feeling of his mouth on her neck.

She didn't linger on it. Just opened the fridge and grabbed the last Redbull, cracking it open and taking a long sip.

Zoey shuffled in next, wearing sunglasses and one of Riley's hoodies. She raised a hand in a half-hearted greeting and slumped into a chair.

Natatlia nodded back wordlessly.

Essa wandered in last, somehow already dressed, hair in a braid, a water bottle in hand like she hadn't had at least eight shots the night before.

"Anyone seen Riley?" she asked.

"Still in bed," Zoey muttered. "Probably died peacefully."

"Real."

They were quiet for a beat, sunlight pouring through the sliding glass door, reflecting on the water.

"So," Zoey said, snatching Essa's water. "Jack texted me."

Nat pulled a face.

"Already?" Essa asked.

Zoey smirked. "At like 3 AM. He sent a selfie of him eating cereal and said 'Wanna hang again?'"

"Men."

"I said yes."

Natalia leaned back against the counter. "So they're coming here?"

"They said they'd be free all day," Zoey replied. "I said we'd be by the pool. They're on their way."

No one objected.

The boys showed up an hour later, still looking half-asleep. Jack wore sunglasses the size of his face and immediately made a beeline for Zoey, who pretended not to be pleased.

Quinn?

Quinn didn't rush. He was in a white t-shirt and black swim trunks, hair pushed back from his forehead, that same low-key energy still around him. He nodded at the girls as he walked in, grabbing a beer from the cooler beside the bar.

He made his way to a lounger just as Riley emerged from her room, sunglasses on, sipping out of her oversized Stanley. She plopped down next to Nat, adjusting the umbrella to shield herself from the sun.

"Chicken fight," Luke declared, slapping the surface of the water.

"Oh my god," Zoey groaned, leaning into Jack. "We're not twelve."

"I'll go on top," Riley offered, already climbing into the water and onto Luke's shoulders.

Nat laughed and hopped into the water, treading gently. "Someone carry me then."

Quinn's voice was quiet but close. "I've got you."

She turned to find him behind her, hand already extended.

"You sure?"

He shrugged. "Do you trust anyone else not to drop you?"

She smirked and let him lift her, thighs over his shoulders, hands gripping his head to steady herself. His palms held her calves, warm compared to the water.

"Try not to decapitate me," he muttered.

"I'll try, but no promises," she shot back.

That earned a real laugh, rough and way too attractive.

Riley and Luke charged first, arms flailing, both laughing. Natalia braced, shifted her weight, and launched forward.

It wasn't even close.

Riley toppled instantly.

"YES!" Nat shouted, raising her arms in victory.

Quinn laughed. "Didn't even try."

She stayed perched for a second longer than she needed to, still high on the win, and his hands moved instinctively to steady her thighs. She glanced down, saw his face tilted up towards hers, smiling.

Her stomach flipped.

After the pool, everyone spread out across the deck, water dripping off their legs as they used the sun as a towel.

Quinn was sitting beside Nat, drying his hair with his t-shirt, knee bumping hers occasionally. He didn't seem to notice. Or maybe he did.

Their fingers brushed once as she reached for his can to take a sip.

Nothing was said.

But at some point, they slipped inside.

It wasn't really planned. They didn't even look at each other before doing it.

The house was much cooler than the backyard. They moved through the hallway just like they had the night before. Keeping to their routine, if you could call it that, he pressed her up against the wall and kissed her hard, his hands already reaching for the bare skin of her waist.

She pulled him by the shirt, past the room they'd used the previous night and into hers, locking the door behind them.

They were in there for ten minutes, maybe less. But it was good. So good her head spun.

After, she straightened her swimsuit and slipped out first, fixing her hair in the hallway mirror.

No one asked where she'd been.

~~

That night, she couldn't sleep. She lay in bed, one leg propped up, hair still wet from the shower. Her phone was buzing with notificaitons, Instagram tags, a group chat blowing up, a vague DM from some guy she'd slept with the year before.

She ignored it all.

The only thing on her mind was Quinn.

They'd only slept together twice, but for some stupid fucking reason it didn't feel like that.

It wasn't love. God, no.

But it was something.

And it made her want to bury her face in her pillow and scream until she lost her voice. Because Natalia didn't do this. The Natalia she knew didn't think about guys she's slept with twice all day. And she was now painfully aware of it.

~~

The boys just kept showing up. Nobody minded. Luke always brought something in return for the girls letting them hang. A frisbee, a football for the pool, a watermelon. Quinn never arrived first, but he was always there eventually.

By Tuesday, it wasn't weird anymore.

By Wednesday, it was just routine.

Their morning always started slow.

Natalia would come downstairs in one of her oversized shirts, bare legs, curls pulled up off her neck, and they'd be there. Bagels on the counter and coffee brewing. Quinn would silently hand Nat a mug with the perfect amount of sugar and almond milk. Like he'd watched her do it one morning and memorized it.

She always mouthed a silent 'thank you' and took it eagerly.

By noon, they were on the back patio, feet on the furniture, passing around a joint. Essa was quick to declare herself as "supervising" and only smoked when she was tired of the peer pressure.

Nat would always sit next to Quinn, leg pressed alongside his. When he shifted, so did she. When he handed her the joint, their fingers would brush and only they could feel the little spark it set off.

They never made plans to sneak off

They just... disappeared.

It was usually mid-afternoon. Someone would be refilling the cooler or setting up a game of cards, and suddenly Nat was gone. Quinn too. No announcement, no whisper, no eye contact.

Just gone.

Once, it was one of the guest bathrooms, the door locked, the sink rattling slightly.

Another time, the pantry, her back against the shelves, granola bars falling around them, his hands lifting her up onto a stack of LaCroix.

Once, bold and stupid, it was outside behind the pool house. Too risky, but perfect. Natalia came back with her bikini strap twisted and a smug look on her face. Quinn returned a few minutes later, shirt inside out.

No one said anything. But Zoey raised both eyebrows and sipped her drink with so much judgment that Nat flipped her off on instinct.

It wasn't a secret.

They weren't together. There were no boundaries, no expectations. Just wandering hands and a magnetic pull that neithere of them was interested in fighting.

The others played along.

Sort of.

Riley would nudge Zoey every time Natalia left the room after Quinn. Luke kept making fake cough sounds when he caught them looking at each other too long. Essa watched it all with a quiet, knowing look.

"They're gonna crash and burn," she muttered once.

"Hard," Zoey agreed.

That night, they set up a movie on the projector screen in the backyard. Blankets thrown everywhere. Someone dragged out an air mattress to lay on. The firepit flickered low and bugs hummed in the trees.

Quinn ended up on Nat's left without saying a word. He settled in beside her, their arms brushing. Her breath hitched, but it was barely noticeable.

They didn't talk. Just watched the movie. She passed him popcorn. He held the bowl between them, his other hand sliding under the blanket and landed gently on her thigh.

She rested her hand on top of his.

No one could see.

And by the time the credits rolled, Natalia had her head on his shoulder. His thumb was stroking the inside of her knee in slow, absentminded motions. She pretended she didn't notice. He pretended he wasn't holding back a smirk.

They didn't kiss.

They didn't sneak away that night.

But if Nat didn't feel things like that... why did it feel like every time she looked at him, she was falling further into a bottomless pit?

~~

The sun was blaring down the day the girls hauled bags of snacks, a packed cooler, suncreen, and beach towels down to the dock behind the house. The air was warm enough that no one questioned diving into the water fully clothed if it came to it.

"This is so rich of you," Zoey said, tossing a bag of grapes onto one of the boat seats. "Like your generational wealth is showing."

Natalia grinned. "My parents call it 'coastal modesty.'"

"Gross," Essa muttered, already applying her second layer of SPF 50.

The boys showed up, loud as ever. All of the guys were booking it down the dock, except for Quinn. He was taking his sweet time. Simple black swim trucks, faded grey shirt, sunglasses pushed into his curls. He didn't say much as he climbed on board, just brushed his hand along Natalia's lower back in passing and settled near the front of the boat.

They pushed off the dock with a soft hum, the speaker was playing something rhythmic as they drifted out past the quieter homes and onto the open water.

Tubing came first. Luke had insisted.

"Fast as fuck," he demanded. "Don't hold back."

He lasted all of twenty-seven seconds before the tube flipped and sent him face-first into the lake.

They took turns--Riley and Zoey screaming the whole way, Jack staying on longer than anyone else, and Essa filming it all from her seat with running commentary.

When it was Nat's turn, she turned to Quinn, now sitting in the captain's seat, steering like it was second nature, and raised an eyebrow.

"Try to throw me," she challenged.

"You sure?" he grinned.

"Make it worth it."

He did.

Ten seconds in, she was airborne.

~~

The tubing ropes were coiled and drying. The boat rocked gently, anchored in a quieter spot, away from the buzz of jet skis and other boats. Everyone was sprawled out... on seats, on towels, on each other.

Quinn was still at the wheel, one hand resting lazily on the throttle. Natalia wandered over with a cup of something cold and slid into his lap like she'd done it before.

He didn't blink.

One arm wrapped around her waist. Her back against his chest, their bodies moving with the gentle sway of the boat. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles on the bare skin of her waist, just under the edge of her bikini top.

"What if I steer us into a dock?" she mumbled.

"I'll save us."

"You that confident?"

Quinn laughed against her shoulder, breath warm. "You're sitting in my lap. Confidence is kind of my thing right now."

She turned her head slightly, close enough that their temples touched, and whispered something he barely caught. He responded with a low chuckle, then grabbed her cup, taking a sip.

It didn't feel like flirting. It just felt right.

~~

Eventually, everyone ended up in the water... except for Nat. She stayed dry.

She lay on a towel stretched across the bow, sunglasses on, the back of her hand resting over her stomach. Her legs were damp from earlier but drying fast in the heat. The sun kissed every inch of her skin.

Quinn joined her. Just like normal, no grins, no jokes. He just lay beside her, one arm slung over his head, the other resting across her leg... fingers curled lightly around her thigh like he'd forget they were touching if he didn't.

She didn't remember falling asleep.

Only that she woke up to the gentle dip of the boat and the sound of laughter from somewhere in the water. Her mouth was dry, her body warm. And Quinn's hand was still there.

Still resting on her. Still soft and unbothered.

She shifted slightly but he didn't move.

Her head turned toward him. He looked relaxed, lips parted slightly, breathing slow.

If she hadn't known better, she would've thought they were dating.

And that thought?

Fucking terrified her.

From the back of the boat, Zoey raised her phone and snapped a picture.

Riley looked over her shoulder, squinting. "What are you doing?"

"Proof," Zoey said. "For when she lies to our faces later."

"Good call."

The shutter clicked again.

By sunset, they were back on land. Everyone was a little sun-drunk, a little dehydrated, and still riding the high of tubing. Nat didn't really speak much after her nap. She was too deep in her head.

Her lips still tasted like the drink they'd shared. Her skin still tingled where Quinn had touched her.

But the ache in her chest?

That was new.

~~

The boys' Airbnb was still half-unpacked and half-chaotic from a game of beer pong that got too competitive two nights before. Empty water bottles cluttered the counter. A beach towel had been pinned up as a curtain over the back sliding door. Someone's Zyns were sitting on the top of the toilet. But no one had the energy to ask questions about it.

Jack was pacing the living room, shirtless, sipping from a smoothie like it was doing anything to cure his hangover.

"Bro," he said, throwing himself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. "You're basically dating her."

Quinn didn't look up from his phone. He was lying across the floor, head on a throw pillow, fingers lazily scrolling.

"I'm not," he said.

"Are you serious?" Alex chimed in from the kitchen. He was standing in front of the open fridge door like something new might just appear. "You've spent every day with her for over a week."

"She's fun to hook up with," Quinn replied cooly.

Jack snorted. "You're literally acting like her boyfriend."

"I bring her coffee," Quinn said, shrugging "That's basic decency for letting us hang there so much."

"You bring her coffee," Alex said, shutting the fridge. "You rub sunscreen on her. You sit next to her at every hangout. She wears your fucking hoodie."

Quinn smirked. "It's just summer."

"Sure it fucking is," Jack said, leaning back. "Tell that to your stupid little smile every time she texts you."

"I don't smile."

"Man, shut up."

Quinn sat up slowly, stretched out his arms and stared out the window as the room dissolved back into its regular chaos.

It's just summer. He repeated it again in his head.

Then again, slower. Like saying it enough times might just make it true.

Across town, at Natalia's house, things weren't much quieter

Zoey was in the kitchen, half-sprawled across the island with a pint of ice cream. Riley was sitting on the couch, scrolling mindlessly and Essa was standing by the fridge, judging her options.

Nat came in, yawning, rubbing at the back of her neck.

Riley looked up. "You catching feelings?"

Natalia blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

"No," Nat said, walking past them, grabbing the coffee pot. "It's fun."

"It's more than fun," Zoey said, chewing slowly. "You guys are acting like you're married."

Essa snorted.

"I'm not catching feelings," Nat said again, firmer now. "It's just easy. We hook up. We hang out. That's all."

"You've got hickeys on your neck like a fucking high schooler, bitch," Zoey said, pointing with her spoon. "What's easy about that?"

Natalia reached up instinctively, brushing her fingers over the spot.

"Yeah, okay," Riley said, smirking. "Totally chill. Definitely just friends."

"Didn't say friends," Nat muttered.

"Didn't say not in love with him, either."

"I'm not in love with him."

They all raised their eyebrows at the same time.

Nat sighed. "Jesus."

She turned and walked off, cup of coffee forgotten. The girls all looked at each other as her bedrooom door slammed shut.

She was totally in love with him.

~~

That night, the hangout had moved from outside to the basement. A pool table sat at the centre of everything. The group was spread out around the room, everyone doing their own thing.

Nat was leaned against the wall, holding a very large glass of wine, watching Zoey hustle Jack out of twenty bucks over a game of pool.

Quinn was across the room, talking to Alex, laughing quietly. His hand moved when he talked, sharp gestures to help support whatever he was saying.

She hadn't talked to him all day. Not on purpose.

She just... didn't know what to say after her talk with the girls that morning.

Every time he laughed, she looked up.

Every time she moved, she felt like he noticed.

They were playing the same game they'd played the first night... see who cracks first. See who bridges the gap.

Nat looked up again.

And caught him already looking at her.

She didn't move, just tillted her head a little, curious.

He held her gaze, then looked away smiling.

Soft. Subtle.

Stupidly hot.

She rolled her eyes to herself and walked over to where Luke and Riley were playing cards, pretending that his stupid smile wasn't on the forefront of her mind.

No big deal.

Just summer.

~~

Natalia woke up to the sunlight cutting across the ceiling in sharp slices, the kind that made everything look prettier.

She rolled over instinctively.

Empty.

The other side of the bed was cold. The pillow barely dented. The sheets rumpled slightly like someone had sat up and gotten out of bed.

Her eyes lingered on the spot.

She didn't feel surprised. She didn't feel anything really.

Until she saw the hoodie.

Folded once, not neatly, near the foot of the bed. Grey. Plush. The one he wore the night they watched that movie, the one that still smelled like smoke and Quinn. She stared at it for another moment, then pulled it toward her.

Her fingers had moved without her head catching up.

She brought it to her face, breathed it in and slipped it on. Still warm. Still him.

It hung loose over her shorts, sleeves swallowing her hands. The fabric was worn thin at the cuffs, a tiny tear near the seam. She rolled the sleeves up once, then didn't bother again.

She looked in the mirror for a second, hoodie draped over bikini top, hair a mess, mascara smudged just a little beneath her eyes.

What a look.

She could already hear voices downstairs. She must've slept in if the guys were already there.

Slowly, she wandered into the kitchen, hoodie still on.

Quinn turned from where he was standing by the sink, washing a plate. His eyes flickered down, once, to take in the hoodie.

"That mine?" he smirked.

She shrugged. "Found it on my bed."

"Right," he said, nodding slowly. "Weird how that happens."

She reached past him to grab a glass, brushing his arm. "Looks better on me."

"Not arguing."

She giggled as he splashed some water at her before turning and walking outside to join his brothers.

~~

The day passed in what felt like seconds. And by the time dinner was over and the kitchen was cleaned, most of the group was half-asleep on the back patio. Except for Zoey and Jack who had claimed the hammock near the side of the house.

Nat wandered down the path toward the dock barefoot. The water looked scarily dark under the night sky. Like an endless black abyss. She stood at the edge of a moment, letting the silence surround her, until she heard footsteps.

Quinn.

"Thought you went home," she said, not turning.

"Thought about it."

A pause.

He stepped beside her and looked out at the water.

"I've never done a night swim," she said suddenly.

Quinn blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Not in the lake."

He looked at her, amused. "You live on the water."

"Doesn't mean I'm always in it."

"Let's change that."

Before she could respond, he was pulling off his shirt, dropping it onto the dock. Nat stared at him, admiring the unbothered calm about him that made her feel like she was on fire.

He looked at her. "You coming?"

She just peeled off the hoodie, tossed it to the side, and stepped out of her shorts.

Then--splash.

He dove.

Nat grinned and jumped in after him.

She came up gasping, hair slicked back, laughing.

Quinn swam toward her, slow and easy.

"You okay?" he asked.

"No. I think I'm in shock," she said, spinning once in the water. "You just dragged me into unheated water in the dead of night."

"You'll live."

"You owe me."

"I brought you bagels this morning."

"Fair."

They floated next to each other in the stillness, shoulders bumping occasionally.

"I used to think I'd get married by twenty-three," she muttered.

He looked over. "Really?"

"Yeah. I thought I'd live in a big city, wear heels to work, have a guy who made me smoothies every morning."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "How's that working out?"

She laughed under her breath. "I'm twenty-three. I live in a shoebox apartment and sometimes forget to buy toothpaste and toilet paper."

"And the guy?"

"Don't have one. Just this guy who leaves hoodies in my bed and convinces me to ruin my hair with lake water."

He smirked. "He sounds like a menace."

"Total nightmare."

Quinn tilted his head. "Do you want that?"

She blinked. "What?"

"The whole thing. Marriage, smoothies, heels."

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I thought I did. Then I fell in love once, and it went to shit, and I think since then I've just been..." She trailed off.

"Floating?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Floating."

They went quiet again, bobbing gently in the dark.

Then Quinn said, "Maybe floating's okay. For a while."

Nat turned toward him and without thinking, without letting the moment settle too long, she reached under the water and grabbed his hand.

Not in a way that said hookup.

Not in a way that said I want something.

Quinn squeezed back.

Eventually, they climbed out and sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling above the water.

Natalia leaned her head on his shoulder, wet curls sticking to his arm. She stared at the ripples below and thought:

Shit. I'm so fucking doomed.

~~

The last party the boys would be there for was messier than the first.

People spilled out of the house in every direction. Someone yelled for shots every ten minutes and someone else tried to climb onto the roof of the pool house before Essa dragged him back down by the belt loop.

"You break your neck, I'm not gonna be the one calling the hospital," she snapped, shoving a beer into his hand instead.

Natalia was drunk.

Not blurry or slurring or spilling things. Just loose. Bikini still damp from an earlier swim, linen shirt unbuttoned, cheeks flushed. She was laughing in the hot tub, some guy from the next town over sitting way too close. His name was maybe Chris. Maybe not.

He was saying something dumb and flirty. She laughed anyway.

Quinn saw her from across the yard.

He'd been leaning against the deck rail, half-listening to Jack's story about some girl he fake-proposed to once for free drinks. But his focus was clearly elsewhere.

Natalia in the hot tub. Natalia throwing her head back laughing. Natalia letting someone else lean that close.

He set his beer down. Walked past the grill. Past Riley and Luke playing some made-up card game. Stepped to the edge of the bed and jumped in. Shoes, shirt, everything.

Nat turned, startled, hair dripping against her neck. Quinn surfaced, blinked water from his lashes, and held her gaze like he was done pretending.

Then he reached up.

"Come here," he said lowly.

She didn't have to think twice, just took his hand.

He pulled her into the pool, denim skirt and all. Her body hit the water with a slap and a gasp. She came up laughing, sputtering, hair plastered to her face.

And then he kissed her.

Right there. In the middle of the pool. In front of everyone.

It wasn't soft.

It was a hand to her waist, pulling her in, mouth on hers like he'd been holding back. Possessive. Hungry. His fingers tangled in her hair, hers clenched at his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist without thinking.

The backyard fell slightly quieter around them. The kind of hush that meant people were watching.

Zoey, from the poolside, raised a brow. "Okay then..."

Nat didn't care.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to catch Quinn's eyes up close.

"You good?" she asked breathlessly.

He smirked. "Not really."

They disappeared into the hosue without another word.

~~

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them. No lights, just the flicker of the string lights outside.

Quinn pressed her against the door.

This time was different.

Not frantic. Not messy.

Slow.

Like memorizing.

He kissed her again, but it was softer now. Surer. Like he was trying to say something she wouldn't let him speak out loud. It wasn't just about the fun of it anymore.

It was about knowing.

The way her breath caught. The way he looked at her after she laughed. The way her fingers brushed over the line of his jaw like she was scared she'd forget how it looked.

Later, she lay awake beside him, one sheet pulled halfway up, the ceiling fan spinning.

Quinn was asleep. His arm was slung across her stomach, his breathing even.

But she couldn't sleep.

Her chest ached from the way it suddenly felt like she'd made a memory that was already slipping through her fingers.

She didn't know what to do with that thought. So she buried her face in Quinn's neck and tried her best to get at least a little rest.

~~

The morning after felt too still.

Half-full Solo cups lined the counter like ghosts of the night before. Someone had left their sunglasses in the fridge. The Bluetooth speaker sat lopsided on the table, blinking red, battery dying.

Riley was curled into the armchair with a bottle of water and her phone, scrolling aimlessly until she stopped dead.

"Um," she said. "Guys."

Natalia looked up from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, nursing coffee and trying to forget how last night had felt.

Zoey and Essa turned too, drawn by the shift in Riley's voice.

Riley held up her phone.

A TikTok. Grainy and zoomed in.

The boat.

Them.

Nat, legs draped over Quinn's lap, laughing, drink in hand. His arm around her waist. The two of them so clearly wrapped up in each other they might as well have been alone.

The caption: "Are the Hughes bros in Montauk???"

The girls stared.

"Okay," Zoey said slowly. "What the fuck?"

Essa leaned in, typing quickly into Google.

Quinn Hughes

The results popped up instantly.

NHL. Defenseman. Number 43. Canucks.

Team USA.

Interview clips, highlight reels, Wikipedia.

Natalia froze.

She blinked at the screen. The man from the videos was the same man who had kissed her in the pool. Carried her up the stairs. Left a hoodie on her bed.

"You didn't know?" Riley asked, gentle.

Natalia shook her head.

"Holy shit," Zoey whispered.

Nat was quick to stand and walked outside.

Quinn was crouched near the patio, focused on fixing the leg of a deck chair with a screwdriver. He was humming something under his breath.

Calm and casual like the world hadn't just shifted.

"Why didn't you tell me who you were?"

Quinn looked up but didn't flinch.

He stood, wiping his hands on his shorts.

"Did it matter?" he asked.

Nat crossed her arms over her chest. "Kinda feels like it does."

"I liked not being that guy for once," he said simply. "No interviews. No cameras. Just... this."

Nat swallowed. Somehow that answer hurt more.

She stared past him, eyes stinging, but she blinked it away.

"You're leaving soon?" she asked.

He nodded. "Back to Michigan. Training. Couple weeks."

A pause that lasted a beat too long.

She forced a smile. "Right... of course."

Quinn opened his mouth like he might say more. Then didn't.

Nat turned before he could and walked back inside, slamming the door behind her.

~~

Laughter filled the house. Glitter on collarbones and eyelids, the air heavy with perfume.

The girls were getting ready like it was any other night.

Zoey was dressed in red, Essa in something silver. Riley was dancing around the kitchen a White Claw in one hand and hairbrush in the other.

But Natalia wasn't with them.

She was face-down on her bed, Quinn's hoodie draped over her like a blanket.

The room was quiet, lights dim. Her phone buzzed once, then again, then stopped.

A knock.

Riley's voice on the other side of the door. "You coming?"

Natalia didn't move. "Not tonight," she called back.

Silence, then footsteps retreating.

It was later that she heard another knock, much softer than Riley's.

She didn't bother answering it, the door opened anyway.

Quinn.

He silently sat on the floor, back against the bed and waited for her to join him.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then, like something in her chest had cracked open:

"I broke my wrist falling off a slide when I was eight," she said. "Told everyone I tripped. I was too embarrassed to admit I was just trying to walk up the slide."

Quinn chuckled. "I broke my front tooth playing mini sticks with Jack. I won and he hit me in the face with the stick."

"Wow."

He looked at her. "Yeah."

They kept going.

First concerts, favourite movies, stupid fights with siblings. The worst hangovers they'd ever had, songs that made them cry, people they wished they'd never kissed.

They talked until the house went quiet.

Until voices faded and headlights pulled away down the driveway.

Eventually, they moved to the bed.

There was no rush.

Quinn kissed her like he was trying to keep something. To lock it in.

It wasn't for fun.

It wasn't for the thrill.

It was for memory.

They laid side by side after.

No one said goodnight.

No one said goodbye.

His hand rested on her stomach.

Hers covered his. And they laid there until their breathing matched, even and soft.

~~

Nat woke up to quiet. No arguing from downstairs or music blasting from the bathroom while someone showered. Just the hum of the AC and the breeze moving the curtains.

She reached across the bed before her brain caught up.

It was empty.

No surprise, but also no note. But the hoodie was still there, crumpled where he'd been lying.

She pulled it into her lap and stared at it for a second.

It still smelled like him, but she didn't put it on this time.

She just stood slowly and padded down the hall.

Her phone buzzed.

A screenshot from Zoey. It was a text that Jack had sent her. "headed back home! thx for the best hamptons trip ever!!"

That was it.

No goodbye. No "we'll talk." Just this vague, friendly send-off that made her feel sick to her stomach.

~~

Essa knocked once before walking in with an iced coffee. "Your favourite," she said softly.

Nat took it and nodded.

Zoey climbed into bed next to her without a word.

Riley flopped dramatically onto the floor like her soul had left her body. "I think I fell in love with the bartender last night."

"You also called him Steve when his name was Dylan," Zoey added.

"Whatever. He knew what I meant."

Essa looked over at Natalia.

"Come on, Nat. We'll go out tonight. Find you a new guy."

Nat gave them a crooked smile. Half-crying, half-laughing.

That night, she let them dress her up.

Crop top. Denim skirt. Gold hoops. A little glitter under her eyes.

She stood at the bar with a drink she wouldn't finish, some guy she didn't know leaning close, saying something about the stars or the moon or whatever line he thought might work.

She smiled like she meant it.

Her phone buzzed and she casually glanced at it.

Quinn Hughes followed you!

Her breath caught and she let her real smile shine through.

Then she turned from the bar, scanned the crowd, and went off to find the girls without another word.

[malacandrax]

hi mal!! i love cliff and eugene and the works you’ve made for them! i have some questions :3 (apologies if these have been asked before!)

what attributes do you think they both noticed about each other first, and was there anything they discovered about each other later that surprised them?

related to this, what was your initial inspiration in creating them/what aspects of their character/story has been there from the start, and was there anything that developed over time that you hasn’t initially considered?

Oh boy >:). Thank you for these excellent questions. I think Eugene noticed Cliffs attitude first, and was about ready to write him off as a nuisance, but moments of vulnerability and genuine care (for his mum especially) shone through and warmed Eugene to him. I think he was surprised by Cliff's drive, he’s very focused when he finds something worth his time. (like committing to two weeks of penance >:3)

Cliff noticed Eugene's looks first, (and gayness) followed by his kindness. I think at first Eugene comes across as quite secure and reliable, which is partly a facade. Anyone that gets closer to him will find that he’s actually pretty insecure and needy. He desperately wants to be loved and accepted for who he actually is. Surprise wise… I think his cattiness surprised Cliff. The moments when Eugene claps back have Cliff like :O. 

'was there anything that developed over time that you hasn’t initially considered?'

HONESTLY all of it came after… all of it. I made a poll for my adult patreon tier, and that decided my insane fixation.

I had no idea what was gonna happen. I have a lot of adult only characters and I imagined these would be the same. I was looking at ram lightlys father basil like ‘yeah I could do a priest too, it looks like its going well for them’. I honestly (sorry) don’t really have a priest kink, it's more a forbidden relationship kink. I had no idea I’d be buying and reading catholic books for this cliche idea. I had no idea I’d get so deep into twisting it FROM the cliche. It was truly supposed to be just a kinky starting point, tempter vs tempted, simple as! Cliff being actually religious wasn’t supposed to be in it, Eugene being so lonely wasn’t in it, coming to care for eachother deeply wasn’t in it, it was really not gonna be that deep. My intention was like, a bunch of sexy scenarios, confession booth sex etc. I had absolutely no intention of doing sfw comics- and I haven’t done them for any of the other characters I made for my adult tier! Here is what it started as-

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

Enhance

zoom in

EYEBALL EMOJI

[peachiejeongin]

somewhere between the steps | lee know

08 :: ᴡᴀꜱ ɪᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴋᴇ? ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛ? ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ !

synopsis: you and Minho are competitive to no end, always trying to out-best the other. what happens when a scandal occurs, and you are caught in the crossfire of trying to fix his reputation? pairing: choreographer!Minho x choreographer!reader genre: enemies to lovers, fake dating warnings: Mild angst, arguing

word count: 1.8K

One week later.

Not a single text.

No calls. No public appearances.

No smartass comments about your dance routines.

No Minho.

If you would have gone back in time and told yourself from about a month ago that you would actually be missing him, you probably would have laughed in your own face.

But you were. Terribly.

And it was starting to show.

From your posture, your pacing, your fluidity, and in the half-assed choreographed routines that you would normally nail in your sleep, not having Lee Know around was taking over your life.

Every time your phone buzzed, your breath would hitch, and you would mumble a silent prayer that it was him wanting to talk things out. Except, disappointment would twist in your stomach every time.

Because it was never him.

Not once.

It was like he had disappeared off of the grid and out of your life entirely; his social media had not been uploaded on since the day of your argument, and you could not remember the last time he had been at work. You heard through some of the dancers that he was “sick,” but you knew better.

You could feel his heart more than you could feel your own.

It was broken. He was broken. In the exact shape you left him.

If you could have just grown a pair and told him you felt the same way, this would not be happening, and two young hearts could have been spared of so much pain.

Unfortunately, your heart was not the only aspect of your life that was crumbling.

“You’ve been sloppy, y/n.”

You flinched at the sharpness of your boss’s voice, your eyes lowering onto the floor as you nodded. Everyone around you, including, unfortunately, your boss had been noticing your newfound depression; thus, you were called into an unwanted meeting.

“I’m sorry—” you started to apologize.

“No. ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it.” He folded his arms, eyebrows tight with frustration. “You’re one of my best dancers. You’ve never messed up for as long as I’ve known you. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing important.” You shook your head, never once making eye contact with him.

“It’s important if it’s causing your dance routines to look like my five-year-old daughter’s!” your boss exclaimed. “Y/n, I want to help you if something’s going on, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me anything.”

You hesitated before taking a deep breath.

“It’s Minho,” you finally admitted, your words coming out in a regretful murmur. “We got into a fight the other day, and I haven’t talked to or seen him since.”

Your boss’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head.

“Are you worried that it’s getting in the way of the publicity?”

“Not exactly,” you stated, confusing your boss further. “The fight we got into was over feelings. Real ones. He likes me, like actually, and I feel the same, but I was too scared to say anything, and—”

“Okay, okay,” your boss sighed. “I’m a dance company CEO, not a therapist.” He let out a light laugh before continuing. “I understand how you feel—how both of you feel, actually. I was young and had crushes too once. But you can’t let this get in the way of your work; I mean, I feel like I’ve lost both of my best choreographers because one’s too depressed to come to work and the other is too wrapped in her head while she’s at work.”

“I get it, yeah.” You nodded your head in agreement, crossing your arms over your body. “I’ll get things back on track with my choreos”

“Not just with your choreos,” your boss quickly added. “You need to get things back on track with Minho, too.”

“Trust me, I am the last person he wants to talk to right now.”

“Well, he’ll have to,” your boss stubbornly urged. “There’s a charity gala for one of our contractors tomorrow night. Reporters, interviewers, all kinds of press will be there. I need you and Minho there.”

You blinked slowly.

“What?”

“You heard me. I need you guys to make a good impression for our studio. If you don’t show or decide to pull some funny business while we’re there, I’m pulling both of your contracts.”

“You can’t be serious!” you scoffed out in disbelief.”

“I’m very serious, y/n. Show up and fix your childish drama or go back to teaching kids at rookie camps. Up to you.”

With that, your boss left the room.

This cannot be happening.

That afternoon came.

You tried to call Minho. Three times at that. The line went straight to voicemail every time.

You texted him, just four words: “Please talk to me.”

Radio silence.

You considered stopping by his apartment, but what would you even say?

‘Hey, Minho! Sorry I was too much of a pussy to admit that I actually liked you back! Let’s date now!’

Pathetic, you thought to yourself.

You found yourself sitting in a booth at your favorite cafe, the one just next to the studio. You were trying not to let the whole city see you in a downward spiral.

You sipped on your coffee, inherently staring at your phone, praying Minho would text or call you back. You leaned back in the booth, convinced you had ruined everything.

Then the door swung open just behind where you were sitting.

The bell rang to notify the employees of a customer’s entrance.

You turned your head around, whether by pure curiosity or because of the little voice in your head telling you to look.

You froze.

Minho stood in the line, scrolling absentmindedly on his phone. He wore a black hoodie and a matching hat, pulled low. He wore a black face mask, most likely to protect obsessed fans from noticing who he was.

He put his phone back in his pocket, and when he did, his eyes immediately found you.

You stood up, wanting—no, needing—to talk to him.

As soon as you did, he turned around and left the cafe.

You followed after him.

“Minho, please,” you called after him.

“I don’t want to talk to you, haven’t I made that obvious?” Minho snapped back.

“I don’t care!” You had finally caught up with him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around harshly. “We need to fix things!”

Minho pulled down his mask and laughed—the same dry, cold sound you had once become accustomed to, but that now felt unfamiliar in comparison to his warm, airy chuckle.

“I don’t need to fix shit,” he scowled. “I didn’t break my own heart. I’m not fucking doing this with you. You can go play with your ex’s feelings; I’m sure he’d love to see you again.”

“I never even met with him, asshole!” you retaliated. “I’ve been too focused on you to even care about him.”

“Ah, another guy’s feelings you’re playing with! You’re an expert at that!” 

“Minho, stop.” You stepped closer. “I…I didn’t mean to play with your feelings.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Minho snorted. “News flash, y/n: saying that the borderline romantic encounters you had with someone were just you acting on being drunk or for your work or whatever the fuck else is playing with someone’s feelings!”

You felt tears pooling in your eyes as you held intense eye contact with Minho.

“I never meant that,” you quietly confessed. “Any of it.”

Minho’s jaw clenched.

“Well, you were pretty damn convincing when you basically told me that this entire thing meant nothing to you.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” your voice trembled, and you felt your hands shaking.

“Interesting. What was it to you then?” Minho questioned, tone clearly aggravated. “Go ahead, y/n! I’d love to hear this.”

“I—” you stuttered. “I don’t know! Okay, this entire thing—getting to know you, spending time together—it was fun, but it was also terrifying and confusing. I didn’t know how to feel about any of it because I was so used to fucking hating your guts. I tried to brush it off as nothing, as some fucking pseudo-effect of fake dating you. But now, going nearly a week without talking to you has made me realize that nothing was fake.”

Minho went quiet for a few seconds.

Then he spoke.

“What do you mean?” He sounded vulnerable, and you thought you saw his eyes water for a brief moment.

“I mean,” you began, taking a deep breath, “that it was all real to me too. Hell, I don’t know if it was ever fake. I miss you, Minho. I miss you so fucking much. I can’t stand not being around you. You said you didn’t know if it meant something to me at all, but it did. I swear on my life it did.”

He shook his head briefly, bitterly.

“You’re just saying that because you feel bad.”

“No, Minho, I’m not,” you quickly countered. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. I like you. I like you a lot. And I’m sorry I was too scared to admit it when you did, and I’m double sorry that I even thought about considering another guy over you.”

Minho stepped closer, slightly towering over you and making you feel a mixture of intimidation and adrenaline.

“Prove it,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Prove it,” he repeated. “Prove that you’re not just saying this because you hurt my feelings. Prove that you like me, y/n.”

You stared at him for a brief moment.

Then one hand found his; the other found his cheek.

Minho’s lips parted slightly as he consciously interlocked his fingers with yours. He looked at you, his eyes going slightly doe.

You leaned in.

So did he.

And this time, there was no disturbance to keep you from what you had so desperately wanted to do since your first date.

Your lips locked, desperate and hopeful.

It was slow, yet full of so much feeling that had been pent up over the last month.

Minho’s lips were warm, loving, and soft—more so than you had ever imagined them to be. It was entrancing, to say the least.

Neither of you pulled away for a while.

Neither of you wanted to.

So you did not.

You stayed there, on the sidewalk, under the warm Summer sun, embracing each other, and not giving a damn if anyone saw you.

This moment was for both of you and both of you alone—not for the publicity, not for the paparazzi, and certainly not for your boss.

For the first time since the dating stunt had begun, you did not have to act or play some sort of game with the other.

This was real, and neither of you wanted it to end.

ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @/aquazero

🏷️@amararosesblog @velvetmoonlght @amarecerasus @princesskrystix @inejghafawifesblog @lily409 @bellaaaskz @hanjisrockstar @ateez-atiny380 @qwonyoung23 @bestboileeknow @mavischerry @dostoevskydidion @sammhisphere (dm/inbox to be added!)

[ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ? ᴅʀᴏᴘ ᴀ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴀ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢ, ᴀɴᴅ/ᴏʀ ᴀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ!]

[sweetcici-123]

KPDH x ATLA

Due to the results of my last poll, I did end up starting both fics, and here's the first one. This is the one where Huntrix works with Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee, becoming like Uncle Iroh to them over time.

We may not want to be here (but we want to help you)

Prologue

“I really wish we didn’t have to come back here…” Mira trailed off as the girls casually walked through the streets of the Fire Nation Capital.

“Wasn’t it you who wanted to track down Tozo? You said that he was exactly the kind of scum you wanted to get before we went on our next break.”

“Well, yeah, obviously I would rather get someone like him sooner rather than later. I just didn’t think he would be so bold as to hide out in the capital.” Mira was practically scowling as they searched for the familiar face of their target. Tozo happened to be known as a local assailant, commonly harming women and children as he traveled between islands to lose any tails. Unlucky for him, Huntrix weren’t known for losing someone once they found them.

“From what I can tell, it seems like the capital is a great place for him to escape to. He probably fits in perfectly.” Rumi finally spoke up, breaking the silence she had held for most of their time since they arrived at the capital. Mira’s jaw set before she pointedly stared to the right, acknowledging but not feeling happy in the fact that she knew how right her partner was. That was one of the biggest reasons she hated being back in the Fire Nation at all… the morals of the nation were twisted, even to the point that “smaller crimes” weren’t seen as too problematic and were allowed to thrive in too many areas. 

Zoey slightly bumped her shoulder after they continued to walk in silence for several moments, and Mira closed her eyes to try and stop her dark train of thought. It didn’t matter anyway; they would do this job and then probably head to Ba Sing Se or somewhere else where they could just relax and pamper themselves for at least a few weeks before getting back to work.

“You’re right, but we’ll find him.” Mira smiled at the shorter girl, only to watch as her face shifted from happy to narrowed focus. 

“Did you see-?”

“He saw us and ran!” Zoey took off running, easily slipping between and around other folks who seemed surprised at the sudden figure speeding through them. Neither Rumi nor Mira hesitated to take off after her, doing the same.

It was a simple chase, though they did take notice of the man trying his hardest to throw them off with multiple diversions and distractions, including knocking over crates and even throwing people into their direct path. He seemed to get more distressed as he realized none of his efforts were working before he literally ran himself into a corner.

The man glowered at the three girls as soon as he realized he was cornered, but they couldn’t bother to hide their own amusement.

“So, looks like someone hasn’t checked out a map in a while,” Zoey smirked as she stopped right in front of the man, Rumi and Mira barely out of step right behind her. Rumi chuckled while Mira just glared right back at him.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” He spat the words out with his guard up, but Rumi rolled her eyes.

“Coming from a guy who’s wanted on several islands, I doubt that. But you can discuss that with local authorities if you want.” She stepped closer, only to stop in place with a rather blank expression, the same second that Zoey quickly erected a dirt wall to block the blast of fire he aimed at her with.

That was apparently all Mira needed to charge the man from around the dirt wall as Zoey lowered it. The taller woman promptly ran up on him and proceeded to kick him in the gut, making him slam back into the stone behind him. That wasn’t enough for her, even as he gagged and stumbled, as she then lifted him by the shirt to quickly slam him onto the ground. Her teeth were bared down at him, but the grown man gave out a loud whimper and held up his arms as if it could somehow stop her from doing more.

Mira stared at him for a few more seconds, genuinely expecting more fight from him, but this wasn’t worth it. She rolled her eyes before lightly tilting her head down at him while giving a glance to Zoey.

The younger girl nodded and then shifted the dirt beneath the man to cover both his hands completely as makeshift cuffs.

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” Mira mumbled as she then grabbed him by the shirt to make him stand again, not caring as he tried to crumble again in pain. He let out another whimper, but seemed to realize the girls weren’t going to show him any pity, and he took to trying to fix his labored breaths while being dragged along.

—-----

It happened the second they left the enforcement facility. Not a single civilian in sight.

“Well, isn’t this a nice reception?” Mira drawled out as the three girls took in the crowd around them of at least 20 Fire Nation soldiers, all of them seemingly ready to attack at the drop of a copper piece. Next to her, she could peripherally see Zoey tense up as her hands sneakily reached for her shin-kals at her sides. She sucked in a breath before looking to Rumi to determine if she should go for her weapon as well.

Rumi groaned as she nudged her elbows into both of their sides before raising her arms in surrender. She heard twin sighs behind her and knew they both were copying her, which made her lose a significant amount of tension.

“Huntrix, Firelord Ozai has requested your presence.”

Rumi just knew her partners were suppressing a groan, mainly because she was doing the same.

Link

We may not want to be here (but we want to help you)

[devil-howl]

Nero nd V being brothers [siblings? I'm in favor of NB V]. V isn't TECHNICALLY Vergil's son, formerly just a fragment of Vergil, then the abandoned remain of what was left over, the memories that were distinctly not Vergil's, discarded once Vergil returned to being whole. Both abandoned and neglected by a man who has no other relation than father that they can describe.

V is distinctly immature, brutal, harsh, mean like Vergil. Not as bad as him, of course, but they're not brothers.

And in a way, it's a cruel twist of fate, that there's these broken, mismatched 'twins', if you want to call them that. It's the title they end up taking, because it's easy. It's easy to not think about it and just... try to get along. Find a place to fit each other in the other's lives without working too hard.

But they don't fight like Vergil and Dante did. Spats, sure, but they get along. Nero regularly helps V around, and V helps within the limited capacity of their health permits. V is... decent, with the kids. Which means that the kids like Griffon and his shiny feathers, Shadow and her soft fur, and they climb on Nightmare like a jungle gym. They spar, but it's very casual. They spend time together. V stays with Nero a lot.

When they see Nero and V on the couch, Nero lying down on his stomach, V on top of him using him as a human pillow, Dante and Vergil just kind of look at each other. It wasn't uncommon for Dante to do the same thing that V does, but to Vergil. And Vergil- and Nero- don't even mention when their legs go numb and they need to pee. Letting the other sleep until they really can't.

If Nero and V, children who had no reason to bond together, still find peace as twins, despite the horror, despite what happened...

Maybe they have a chance, too. At their happy ending.

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed smiled. "Thanks." He wished he could say and same to you, offer to invite her out for tea next week in Los Angeles, but well... with what restrictions he was under, it wasn't a promise he could keep. "Have a good night."

And without further ceremony, Ed was out the door and on his way back to his own room.

As it turned out, Ed wouldn't have time for tea with Eve, anyway, as he spent every waking moment in a futile battle against the clock trying to coax the AI's code to a state where it could be demo'ed with the laser without killing him.

The next two weeks were a waking nightmare, and what little sleep he did get, was plagued with visions of his disembodied voice coming from his computer connected to the laser.

The day of the demo, Ed spent every last second he could trying to get the AI to work properly.

It wasn't ready.

His father knew it wasn't ready, and that the two weeks wasn't enough time to get it anywhere near ready for live testing.

The digitization matrices were still needing some fine tuning.

Still, Ed was out of time, and his father wouldn't cancel the demo.

His stomach twisted with nausea through dinner, both from anxiety at what was to come next, and for having to be agreeable while he talked to one of fCon's least agreeable investors.

Not that any of their investors were particularly agreeable to begin with.

Ed was going to die as a punishment for being too slow, for being a failure of a son, for not being perfect enough for his father.

There was no way out. Ed just hoped his death would be quick and painless.

When at long last it was time for the demo, Ed stepped up to the targeting area, his face a careful, practiced neutral as he watched his father step up to the computer and type in the command. He clutched a single tiny square of tea resin in his pocket; a reminder of one of very few times in the past few years he'd felt... as close to at peace as he could be in his situation.

He never got around to actually trying the tea resins.

Edward Dillinger Senior executed the command to activate the laser, and Ed's world erupted in light and pain.

Ed returned to consciousness a picosecond or an eternity later--he couldn't tell which--unsure if he'd actually lost consciousness to begin with.

His body, or whatever imitation of the human body the laser programs had put together, burned. His insides felt scrambled.

He was... somewhere. Inside the computer, or perhaps in hell. Maybe both. Not that Ed particularly believed in heaven or hell.

Wherever he was, the edges of the room glowed a deep red, though the floor was cracked, the fissures glowing lime green and extending outward radially with Ed at the epicenter.

In the mere seconds that it took Ed to notice, the surface beneath him crumbled further. His own feet--and the rest of his body once he had the presence of mind to take stock--were covered in the same jagged, cracked glowing lime green lines.

Whatever had happened after he was digitized, Ed doubted he was functionally human anymore.

Had an idea for a thread with fCon Ed - or, at least, Ed getting a friend and dragged out of fCon...... whether he realises he needs to get out, or not. Respond if interested :)

Eve peeked around the door of the tech conference's closing gala, eyeing the attendees. She wasn't supposed to be here. Wasn't supposed to be this side of the screen. Definitely wasn't supposed to be attempting to poach employees from rival companies.

But really, was it poaching when it felt more like a rescue?

Future Control Industries... Eve shuddered. She knew exactly what kind of Programs they had as flagships. The Master Control Program that had torn through her home before she was aware enough to understand what was wrong was proof enough.

But their new star programmer...

The child of the owner, named for the same. Intelligent, inventive, driven. A dangerous young man, second only to his father.

At least, according to the media.

Eve thought Edward Dillinger Junior looked... tired. Burnt out. Chained to the man who even now gripped his shoulder so tightly it couldn't be any less than painful.

In need of an Admin - someone to look out for him and help him thrive.

Eve could provide.

She flashed her pass, a gift from Lora Prime - unable to make the conference for health reasons - and stepped in to mingle. Her black dress shimmered pink in the lights, heels high and sharp, eyeliner like tiny knives.

The Legacy Grid had become a battleground not too dissimilar to this one, for all the weapons didn't leave visible wounds. And Eve was an Encom Program - designed, as they all were, to adapt and fight.

Ed always hated tech conferences. It's something he should have looked forward to. There were lots of good talks about the latest innovations, demos of the latest gadgets, lots of fascinating ideas.

It also meant he was stuck in close quarters with his father and no escape.

"Because of his disability," his father rationalized. And maybe that was part of it, but Ed was also aware it was to keep him in line. He had his entire schedule handed to him, every second of his day and a warning not to deviate.

By the time the closing gala arrived, Ed was exhausted. The ballroom was too loud, to bright, and Ed was out of patience for interacting with his father's business partners, or anyone. The only saving grace was the soft silk of his outfit expensive outfit. Ed doubted he could manage any other texture.

He just wanted to go back to the their suit at the hotel and sleep.

Ed snapped at a one of his father's business partners. Someone important, though Ed doesn't remember the man's name, and doesn't particularly care to.

His father squeezed his shoulder in warning.

It's only years of training and discipline that kept Ed from tensing or flinching. He apologized, then excused himself. His father stepped in to smooth things over, and Ed took the opportunity to attempt to disappear into the crowd, though he's aware Dymitr--Ed's "assistant", though Ed was fully aware that the man reported to his father and was truly there to keep him in line-- is following him, not too far behind.

He had been so focused on putting space between him and his father's business partner that he hadn't noticed the woman approaching until she was nearly upon him.

[misspermitted]

Me: If I have to listen to that fan in the other room for one more second I’m going to lose my SHIT

Also me: Techno music 100% volume 2x speed let’s fucking GO I want to feel that shit in my BONES

[egophiliac]

YOU MANIFESTED THE TWEEL CARDS CONGRATS

YOU'RE WELCOME EVERYBODY!

seriously though I was probably like. 60-80% thinking we'd get at least one tweel for chapter 10. but I was NOT expecting it so soon! both of 'em! in August! a shame we're not getting a Coral Sea event after all...but I guess I can be resigned to that and ALSO excited for getting shiny sparkly glowing(!!!!) mertwins along with Azul fighting his inner demons and going right for the eyes! AHHHH I CAN'T WAIT

(also heeeey I recognize that rowboat... 👀)

[scribz-ag24]

duskvyle save me.... save me, duskvyle.....

[nenoname]

me: oh i totally get it if some folks dont jive with same coin theory, plus it's strange to conceptualise at first--

me when i see people call it lame:

[mla0]

i hate when people portray michael and/or patrick as some kind of master manipulator who was terrible to shaun and stormy. like, in the past, michael sometimes got portrayed with little autonomy, or as childish and overly innocent in a weird way. that in itself is an issue with the treatment of mentally ill characters (infantilization), but the solution isn't to argue that he's actually a monster who only wanted to hurt and mislead people. the same goes for patrick. i don't enjoy the "goofy flirty mass murderer" interpretation for very similar reasons, because in the canon patrick did indeed do some wild shit but i think it's a stretch to say it was out of malice, except maybe towards eric lol

obviously there will be different views of these characters and this isn't meant to be gatekeep-y or anything, i'm just concerned with how certain portrayals can quickly slide into negative biases towards mental illness. i think if you're going on this route you might want to ask yourself why, and consider how it could make the mentally ill people within the fandom feel when they see their own symptoms portrayed by their peers as synonymous with being dishonest or manipulative

[taniushka12]

my ideal ilmo/saga fic would be an alternative alternative universe where she goes to live w/ logan in watery after her divorce and there's a slowburn bw her and ilmo but also on the other hand she can't help herself so she stars investigating the cult of the tree on her own so there's this Extremely funny juxtaposition of saga asking ilmo to help her and ilmo (The Cult Leader) being like Of Course Saga I'll Do Whatever I Can 😀👍 (😬😬😬😬😨😨). At the same time though all of this is happening in saga's dreams in between the Real Life case, so she's in a way """remembering""" her fictional life in watery while living it "in real time". Falling in love lingering on her mind when she wakes up, a fond feeling accompanying uncomfortable recognition, the buried knowledge of her kid's death hanging over her head in this other reality and the dread that comes with the question: what will happen when she wakes up believing that to be the truth?

At the very end maybe saga can hug ilmo after jaakko's death and ilmo can help in the final battle against the taken, and then, after all is said and done, maybe they could sit together and drink some coffee, clarifying what Was real and what wasn't, in a bittersweet reunion of could-have-been old friends and also lovers 😔

[moinsbienquekaworu]

But what about... The OC......

[stupidsexywizard]

All on point, and both wonderfully put and applied!

And the best part is, we can take this even further, haha. Because, this:

Nevertheless, the Mother is treated as the symbol of both the mystical and the monstrous — something to be conquered if one is to achieve self-actualization.

Y E S! That is it exactly—and it leads so wonderfully to one of my biggest darlings: Julia Kristeva’s theory of abjection. It is the psychoanalytical perspective repeated, but twisted to extremes, with a visceral focus on the perceived grotesqueness of the feminine and, by extension, motherhood (in a snake-eats-tail, one and the same sort of way).

In this framework, the ‘abject’ is understood as other—unlike the uncanny, it is known, but it is repulsive and distressing all the same, and must be rejected and discarded to preserve the integrity of the self. "The abject has only one quality of the object and that is being opposed to I."

Our mother is our first identity. She is liminal, both us and not-us (like, say, our blood is both us and not-us, when we are cut and bleed), with the border between the two too blurry to define. In other words, she is abject, and must be abjected (discarded) in turn, for us to become ourselves, as fully formed subject. As the quote above states, the abject stands in the way of I.

This all happens upon birth; there is nothing conscious or remembered about it. But, says Kristeva, how easy it is to be brought back to those feelings of repulsion and distress and loss of self, when we are reminded of the abject, the other that would threaten us.

This is why liminality unsettles, she says. Because it brings us back to that point, where we were stuck in a liminality of our own. The blood example above tends to be my go-to when I go off on one about this, but the one I see favoured when working closely with Kristeva is that of coming face to face with a dead body: That both is, and is not, a person. And thus, you are forced to acknowledge its liminality, which sets off the process of abjection - the horror, the disgust, the need to flee and never return lest your psyche fractures.

And to be honest, the more I think on this, the more it does directly apply to the Gale + Mystra situation. She both is and is not his (ex) lover, is and is not a mother to him, is and is not a person, is and is not his goddess. So. Anyway. Yeah. In short (lol) when you say 'society has a weird relationship with mothers' I have... certainly had thoughts to that effect a few times myself.

I could do a really long post about why I think Mystra being more hated than Shar has everything to do with Mystra being called "Mother of Magic" and Shar being the "Lady of Loss," despite how Shadowheart frames both Gale and herself as "pining for a goddess."

Mystra's neglect is regarded more unfavorably than Shar's outright malice, because Mystra slots into the Mother archetype while Shar is more "mean girl" coded (with Viconia instead filling the role of Shart's "mother.") So we have people who are more angry at Mystra for relatively mild wrongdoing because they read her character as coming from a more real and intimate place.

Basically, people hate Mystra because society has a weird relationship with "mothers." If they are not a perfect, self-effacing, and often dead sacrificial lamb, then they are frequently painted as controlling, overbearing, and too involved while also being neglectful, cold, and not involved enough. Mothers are seen as responsible for the circumstances their children/charges have found themselves in, ascribing almost a supernatural power beyond their capabilities to protect, know, and control their children's lives — regardless of whether those children are fully conscious, sentient, informed adults that have separate lives and are 100% culpable for their own actions.