#new fic part 2

[lady-phasma]

Don't look away

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x F!Reader

Stand alone, cross posted on AO3, app 2,800 words

Warning: 18+, NSFW, others I should add but it's Feyd

Summary: Feyd lives rent free in my head now. I’m working on an unrelated piece with an ofc but I wanted to share a pwp because this man is essentially walking and talking sex. Enjoy. Please ignore typos. This was a rush job LoL

my gif

You hold your breath as Feyd-Rautha circles you, appraising. His head is tilted down and he looks at you from under his brows. Your chest is tight. He is almost exactly what you expected after watching him in the arena. Yet, not quite. He steps in front of you.

“She’s acceptable,” he says to the Reverend Mother without looking away from you. You begin to slowly exhale. His eyes slide down to your parted lips. He slowly licks his.

“Leave us,” he growls and the Reverend Mother, the younger Bene Gesserit sister, and his Harpies slip out of the room. You glance over your shoulder as the door slides closed behind them.

“No,” he whispers as he turns your head back toward him, guiding you with his hand on your chin. His blue eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth then back again. As he smiles, you see the tips of his blackened teeth for the first time and catch yourself staring.

“‘No’, my lord na-Baron?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He is standing close enough to hear you regardless. He nods once and drops his hand from your chin, grazing the backs of his fingers down your neck. He impertinently flicks the hood of your cloak off your head before dropping his hand to his side.

“You won’t look away from me. You will watch everything I do. No looking away, no closing your eyes.”

You swallow and attempt to nod but you feel like you cannot move. You want to move. You almost want to run for the door but you can imagine Feyd blocking your path with speed and stealth. You look at his mouth again, the lips curling, black teeth catching the light, and his tongue…

Feyd’s grip on your upper arm snaps your attention back. He undoes the clasp at your neck and slips the cloak off your shoulders, tossing it on the floor. You feel the goosebumps spread up your arms as the cool air of the room hits them. You are suddenly aware of the low neckline of your dress as you inhale. Your cleavage swells and you feel exposed, like prey out of cover.

He licks his lips, slowly. You fight conflicting urges to stare and to look away. You let your gaze travel up to his eyes. He isn’t looking at your face. He is stalking around you again, this time stoping behind you.

His hands are cool on your upper back and you shiver. Feyd makes a sound in response, a satisfied groan that is so low that you think you may have not heard it at all. His hands slip under your dress and are no longer gentle. He rips your dress down the back along the seam. He slings the shoulders of the dress down and you feel him step closer.

Feyd licks your neck, slowly, from the top of your shoulder to your ear. You bite the tip of your tongue to hold back a moan. You don’t want to like this, you don’t want to want him, but your nipples are hard and your body is a furnace.

“Let it out,” he growls in your ear, lips brushing against the lobe. “I want to hear you.”

You do. The sound comes out as a sigh and a moan. His reaction adds fuel to the fire in your core. Feyd growls next to your ear. His exhale tickles your cheek and you shiver again. Then you feel the fabric of his shirt press against your exposed back. Longing rolls over you as you realize you don’t want his shirt against your skin. You let the smallest groan escape your lips, a whining sound.

Feyd leans down and drags his lips over your shoulder. You almost relax into the feeling until you feel the pain as he bites down into the muscle. You gasp. It surprises you more than it hurts you. He releases his hold on you but his mouth stays against your skin.

Almost as unexpected as the bite, you feel the weight of his smooth head rest against your neck. He leans his weight in the crook of your neck and sighs. His hot breath makes you ache. His teeth are still grazing your shoulder. You want to relax into this feeling but he is too unpredictable.

Your mind races in an attempt to understand this man, to glean some insight. His sighs and groans make your core hot and tight. But the press of his teeth against your skin conflict with the gentleness of the press of his head against you. You can’t sort your thoughts and you can’t focus.

Suddenly, Feyd grunts and pushes away from you. Before you can decide to turn to look at him, he pulls your dress all the way off your arms and pushes it down your hips, leaving it in a puddle around your feet. You can’t think straight. You instinctively cross your arms over your breasts but it’s a fruitless action. He is behind you and you cannot cover the lower half of your body. You aren’t sure but you think the whimper you make is too quiet for him to hear.

“Stay,” Feyd growls. You do. You don’t move. You stare straight ahead at the wall opposite you and focus all your attention on listening, trying to decode the sounds Feyd is making behind you.

You hear cloth moving, one light thud, followed by another, then more cloth. Then you hear what is unmistakably bare feet on the stone floor. Then you feel him, not pressed against you (yet), but just behind you. He is still taller than you and though you cannot see him he feels like a monolith, looming and intimidating.

Feyd doesn’t speak as he runs his hands over your shoulders and down your biceps. He presses your arms against your sides and you acquiesce. Then his large hands cup your breasts as he steps forward into you, pressing the length of your bodies together. You feel lightheaded and sag slightly against him.

“Yes,” he hisses and somehow you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, my pet, that’s it.” His hands slide down the rises and hollows of your belly and hips. There is too much stimulus for you to focus on any one thing. The cool heat of his palms against your skin, the silkiness of his chest against your back, and the press of his erection against the curve of your buttocks.

This bliss is fleeting and you remind yourself of who he is, what you have seen him do. But the images of the arena can’t push the feeling of him on your skin out of your mind. You are almost powerless in his hands.

He guides you to turn and face him. You look up at him and involuntarily lick and bite your lower lip. For the first time you see hunger in his eyes. His head dips down and you fight the instinct to close your eyes as his lips press against yours. Not until you see his eyes close do you do the same. His mouth is bittersweet and gentle at first. Then his teeth nip and pull at your lip, his tongue pushes into your mouth, and he growls. You can’t stop yourself from pressing against his chest. Your hands find his arms as you try to get closer to him. As you pull him toward you the taste of blood crosses your tongue.

Feyd pulls his mouth back and you open your eyes immediately. The red on his lower lip is a stark line against the white skin. He slowly drags his finger across it. He gazes at the red on his fingertip as if he has never seen anything so entrancing before. Then he presses his finger against your lip and you pull the tip into your mouth. He moves before you can understand what is happening. His hand is in your hair, wrenching your head back. His other arm encircles your waste and he looks down at you, black teeth glinting in the pale light of the room.

His sneer is terrifying. Your fingernails dig into the flesh of his arms as you grip him. You don’t push him away; you can’t move. His eyes dart around your face searching for something. For defiance? He finds none and his mouth crashes against yours in a rough kiss that is mostly teeth and breath.

Something inside you gives way and you claw desperately at his arms. You kiss him back, finding his tongue with yours, inviting him into your mouth. His body is warm stone in your arms. You search for purchase, some place to anchor yourself, his chest, his arms, his neck. Then you push your hips forward, almost without thinking. His cock presses against your belly and he growls again. That sound draws wetness from between your legs and you moan back into his mouth. His hand begins to loosen its grip on your hair and you feel him smile against your lips. When you look at him you see it isn’t a kind smile.

“So that’s what you want, pet?” His smile is mocking, almost cruel. His voice is low and deep. His hand slides out of your hair to the side of your face. He caresses your cheek with his palm and rubs his thumb across your lips, lulling you with his touch.

“You want me to fuck you now?” Your response is the most undignified whimper. You are surprised by the desperation in the sound. As he straightens up to his full height you immediately miss the feeling of his skin. His smile softens briefly. Then he grips the back of your neck, hard, and walks you to the bed. Your heart pounds and you fear you won’t be able to keep your feet. If you trip you have no doubt he will drag you.

You look away from him, glance at the bed. He catches you and turns you to face him as you make the last few steps to the bed. It presses against the backs of your knees and you nearly fall. Feyd doesn’t let you. A brief flicker of understanding dawns on you: he doesn’t want anything to hurt you, only he can do that. It’s a perverse comfort, but his control is seductive. You don’t let yourself think “protective” but that’s the closest word. Then all words leave your mind as he lets go of you and you sink back into the bed.

Feyd kneels on the bed, spreading your legs with his knees. He isn’t gentle but his touch is soft. Every part of his hairless body is smooth and cool and graceful. His giant arms frame your field of vision as he props himself above you. His lower lip glistens and you want to risk defiance. You press yourself up to meet his mouth, to suck at that lip, bite and tease.

His reaction is quick. His hand presses you back onto the bed, wrapping almost entirely around your neck. You lick your lips and sneer up at him. His eyes flash with understanding. He grins. Using his hand on your neck and his legs to hold his weight he slips a hand between you and finds your slick center. He trails his fingers through your wetness and your last vestige of pride falls away. You actually whine as you raise your hips to find more of his fingers. He obliges for a moment and lets you press against them. Then he pulls his hand away.

The pressure on your neck is not yet uncomfortable. You let out panting breaths. Your mouth hangs open, eyes locked with his. Before you realize his hand is gone from your neck, you feel his wet fingers in your mouth and taste yourself. Without needing to be told you suck gently on them. You watch his face soften with pleasure. Barely opening his eyes, Feyd slides his fingers from your mouth, down your body, and under your thigh. He guides your leg onto his hip. As he leans his weight onto his other arm he guides his cock into your slick folds. You hold your breath. You don’t stop watching him and he notices. He looks at you, lewdly, as he strokes himself through your dripping cunt. You feel yourself blush, a bit too late for embarrassment, but there it is anyway. He groans as he presses the tip of his cock against your opening.

“Please, Feyd,” you groan. “Oh please.” His eyes widen at your words, at the sound of his name.

“Beg for my cock, pet. Tell me how much you need it,” he commands, his face only inches above yours.

“I need it so badly it hurts, na-Baron,” you watch for his reaction to the use of his title and you aren’t disappointed. “I need to feel you. Please.”

Feyd groans and his head dips lower, almost resting his forehead on yours as he begins to slide into you. The feeling is intense as he stretches you. You open your legs a bit wider, sliding your foot up the curve of his ass to his lower back. He presses deeper, harder, and you exhale his name. You don’t dare close your eyes yet but his are closed tight and his brow is furrowed. You gingerly slide your hands over his head and grip the back of his neck. You pull him to you slightly, giving him permission to rest his head against your neck. He rubs his head against you like a cat and you smile to yourself as you close your eyes.

Feyd’s hips press into yours, spreading you wide as he buries his face against you. He pulls out slowly and slides back in, so you can feel every inch of him. His free hand searches up your side to your breast and squeezes. His thumb grazes your nipple as he starts to pump into you. You gasp as he pinches your nipple, twists it slightly. You moan and press your lips against the smooth skin of his head.

“You take me so well,” Feyd mutters into your chest. “Such a good girl taking all of me.” The gravel in his voice makes you shiver and mewl. On his next stroke in, you slip your other leg over his hip and circle your legs around his waist. You pull him into you, as far as you can take him, the head of his cock pressing against your deepest core. He makes the most satisfied sound imaginable. You feel his lips, then his teeth against your collarbone. Your grip on his neck tightens as he slides out of you and rams back in, hard and quick.

With the next stroke, Feyd raises his head to look at you. You let your hands slide to his shoulders, still holding tight. There is no softness on his face now. His lust-blown pupils have swallowed the blue of his eyes and his brow is furrowed as he focuses on fucking you. He squeezes your breast quickly then moves his hand to your hair. He holds your head still and leans down to kiss you when he thrusts. You dig your fingernails into his skin and groan.

His control starts to falter and he exhales into your mouth. His hand in your hair gripping tighter as his strokes shorten and his pace quickens. You slide your hand down from his shoulder to touch yourself. His facial expression changes momentarily as he feels you grip tighter around his cock. You grin up at him.

“I need it, Feyd,” you whisper, holding his eye contact. You wait a beat and arch your back as your fingers and his cock bring you closer to your climax. “I need to feel you cum.” You groan. The wave of your pleasure begins to crest, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then you feel his teeth clamp down on the flesh above your clavicle. Your orgasm overtakes you as the sharp sensation clashes with the low, throbbing pleasure between your legs. You murmur his name through clenched teeth.

Feyd pushes through your spasms around his cock. Growling and grunting but not releasing you from his bite. He fucks you through your orgasm. His rhythm stutters and his grip loosens. He lifts his head, a string of spit pulled from his bottom lip. He grabs your head with both his hands and, panting just above your mouth, he cums. The heat fills you and you moan his name again. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours as he presses into you one last time.

Then he stills, his forearms holding him up, but lets some of his weight press you together so he is almost lying on top of you, not pulling out yet. He exhales deeply and raises his head. He looks down at you.

You can’t catch your breath and your legs are heavy. You let them slide down his hips. Your neck throbs where his teeth marked you. You want to wrap your arms around him, pull him into you, stroking and soothing this wild animal. Instead, you grab the back of his head and pull him down to your mouth and kiss him until you taste red.

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Friends to Lovers is for the Fairytales

Word Count - roughly 4500

Author's note: thanks for reading as always, I am finally going through and fixing the grammar errors that I am sure is in here. Originally this was suppose to be just a simple one-shot. But people were asking asking so I made it into a mini series.

Possible Triggers - friends with benefits established, use of Y/N, LOTS of arguing, light gaslighting

Summary: When you met Jack and everything just clicked for the first time in your life. You thought that meant that you would finally get your happy ever after but maybe that isn't the case.

First Chapter Chapter 2

If you looked back on your life for the past 6 months and asked to describe it in one word. Your counter argument would be to ask them “What is the word that describes the best time and the worst times of your life wrapped up in one?” Would this be the definition of a silver lining? No, it would be the opposite because at least a silver lining would get you a happy ending. This, you currently standing in the pouring rain, ruined makeup from not only the rain but your tears, struggling to breath while you looked at the man who you thought was the center of the universe. Only to discover he was the villain of your origin story. This could only be described in one word and that is pain. 

If you could go back in time and listen to your friend when she told you that friends to lovers was for romance novels and not real life. Instead of laughing her off, telling her you were an exception to the rule you would have listened to, because she was in fact correct when she said “ loving and being loved by Jack Hughes is a fairytale not a reality.”

You first met Jack a year ago when you were forced by your best friend to go to one of New Jersey Devils home games. At the time she was talking to someone who was into hockey. Her brilliant idea to invite him to a game to get a date and ended about as well as it did for Rachel on Friends. The only difference was she got stuck with the tickets and decided to “fuck off men and make the game a girls night.” Anna actually ended up getting you pretty good tickets right behind the net. The thing was neither you nor Anna knew much about hockey and saw it as a night to get drunk off expensive drinks in the stadium and watch men fight each other kind of night. Since you were in the second row it was easy for Jack to spot you. He smiled at you and you were tipsy, you may or may not have slid into his DMs that night. Surprisingly to you the next morning, you woke up to a response from him and that’s how you started becoming friends. 

Although for Jack and you the line between friend and talking was one and the same for you both. In fact Luke asked Jack on multiple occasions if he wasn’t sure you guys were dating. Every-time Jack denied it, even when Luke mentioned that he has lost count in the amount of times he’s come home and seen you both cuddled asleep on the coach. Or the fact that when you go out with the team, Jack is attached to your hip giving death glares to any guy who even glances your way even if it’s one of his teammates, especially if it’s one of his teammates. The lines were blurred on both ends both telling everyone you didn’t see each other that way and them joking back asking when the wedding was. Neither of you seemed to really care what others thought and just kept living in your little bubble until the bubble burst. Now at the time 6 months ago, when you and Jack shared that drunken kiss and ended up hooking up in the back of his car. You felt on top of the world. Finally everything was falling into place, you were going to get your happily ever after ending. No you never had the “boyfriend/girlfriend talk” and you still didn’t use titles. But you knew you were his and he was yours. To you that’s all that mattered in the end. 

Little did you know your perfect bubble you created would come crashing down on a random Tuesday night. It started with having one of the shittest days you’ve had in a while, everything that could possibly go wrong did. Your alarm never went off because you forgot to set it the night before. So you woke up when you were supposed to head out the door. Which turned into you rushing around your apartment, trying to hurry to get ready so you weren’t extremely late to work. Of course as you were getting your car, your coffee spilled everything all over your white shirt and middle console of your car. Then you get to work 10 minutes late and have to hear about it all day from your boss. On top of the fact that you also happened to forget your lunch due to rushing around this morning. It just truly was a day from hell and by the time you got back home, you were in tears feeling extremely overwhelmed. All you wanted to do was shower and possibly order food because the idea of cooking made your stomach churn. 

You had finally gotten out of the shower and already started to feel better once you were dressed in some sweats. You were walking into your living room with the idea of just sitting on the coach, scrolling through Doordash to decide what to order when you heard a knock on the door. You didn’t even have to open the door to know that it was Jack. You remembered there was his teammate Nico's girlfriend’s little sister’s birthday tonight, which you had no plans of attending. One because you had only met the new girlfriend once and you could barely remember her name Sasha maybe? And two because it’s a fucking Tuesday and you had work the next day. That was before you had a day from hell and had no social battery left.

But Jack was persistent in trying to get you to say yes, which usually worked simply by showing his face at your apartment. Reductively you went to the door to answer partly just to get him to stop his persistent knocking. As you answered the door, you asked “Jack what are you doing here? Don’t you have a party to get ready for?” You started to make your way back to the living room knowing that Jack would follow you and close the door behind him. 

“Listen I know originally you didn’t wanna go tonight but I was thinking it might be just the thing you need to get your mind of work.” He said with a giant grin on his face as if this is the best idea he’s had all month.

“Jack I had an actual day from hell, I haven’t even answered Anna’s texts yet from earlier today. I have yet to eat anything, like all day. I was late to work today and had to hear about it all day. My social battery is literally in the negatives right now. The LAST thing I want to do is go to a random bar to celebrate some girl’s birthday that I’ve never even met.” You say as a sigh leaves your mouth as you plop yourself on the coach. 

“Okay first I’m sorry you had a bad day baby. But this isn’t a random girl you’ve never met before. You met Stacey’s sister before you knew Emerson before. You know the girl that Luke is talking to? Plus it’s her 21st. That's like the biggest birthday.” He says as makes his way into your kitchen to grab himself a glass of water. Gesturing to see if you want one too but you shake your head no. 

“Okay well I didn’t know it was the same girl but still I don’t wanna go Jackey.” As you start to lay down on the coach and whine, similar to a toddler having a tantrum. “I’m really really tired and if it’s her 21st that means everyone is gonna get trashed and I have work tomorrow early. The last thing I wanna do is go in hungover as fuck. Plus I haven’t eaten anything all day and I’m hungry. You of all people, know I’ll get trashed sooner than everyone else due to not eating. And I hate being the drunk girl at those types of things.” You say as your eyes follow Jack back to the living room as he sits the glass of water on the coffee table. 

Jack slowly beds down to eye level and slowly combs the strand pieces of hair out of your face. It took everything in you to ignore the flutters your stomach was making and not lean into his touch. Jack took his other hand that wasn’t on your cheek and rubbed it down your side landing on your hip pushing you closer to him. He looked down at you with those big puppy dog eyes as he was resting on the balls of his feet. “Please Y/N It literally won’t be the same without you, who’s gonna help me bully Luke when he scores out with Emerson. Or who’s gonna listen to Nico’s drunken stories in GERMAN I might add which you don’t even understand without yelling at him that you don’t care. Please Y/N I need you.”

It took all the strength you have to say “Jack you don’t need me, you want me to go because you don’t want to be by yourself. But you're a big boy and one night at a shitty bar won’t kill you. Besides, I had the day from hell from the moment I opened my eyes.“

Jack cut you off with a counter argument “see and what better way to end your day then to go out with friends.”

“I can think of about 100 different things that would end my day better without me even leaving this apartment..”

“Yes but none of those ideas involve me, please baby I need you with me.” He begged. You knew at that moment that this wasn’t going to end the way Jack wanted to and it would turn into a fight. With a sigh you sat up as you prepared your body for the impact of the fight that was bound to start.

“Jack, I love you but I said no. I need to stay home and get a proper night of sleep. I don’t want to go to a random bar and, as I said earlier, be hungover at work tomorrow. Some of us have normal jobs where we actually have to work year round and every work day.” You said harshly and as soon as it left your mouth you were about to apologize until Jack stood up and opened his mouth, 

“Oh come on Y/N” he snapped at you. “That’s real rich coming from you making a dig at me because you don’t have the luxury of having tomorrow off. You know you never complained about my job when I got you those concert tickets you wanted so badly? Or when I got that reservation at the new restaurant in town without even having to be put on a fucking waiting list. This is just like you, constantly complaining to me. I mean I ask for one thing and all it is from you is excuses! By the way, mind you, I have media tomorrow.” He says defensively. Each word gets louder and with more attitude then the last. 

“Ohhh my bad you had to sit in front of a camera probably in the late afternoon, and listen to people glut your ego even more than it already is.” You say as you stand up, the tiredness that consumed your body is now being replaced by pure red. “First off, I never asked for those things Jack! You gave them to me as gifts and when I tried to pay you back you straight up refused. To the point where you denied my venmo requests. So don’t throw a gift in my face! Secondly I have never once given a fuck that you play hockey, yes that’s how we met but that’s not how we got here. The fact that your even implying that is fucking ridiculous. Oh and by the way you CONSTANTLY ask for things and I give them to you because that’s what being in a relationship is about sacrifice. The one fucking time - I ask for a break your gaslighting me.” By the end you can feel the tears slowly threatening to come out from exhaustion or anger you're not sure.

“Y/N I-” you can see the regret on Jack’s face slowly coming out, as he tries to close the space between you both. 

“No not now, Get out I don’t wanna see you right now.” You exclaim clear as day, so there is no confusion.

“Y/N pl-” He softly says.

“Did you not hear me” the anger can be seen in your eyes at this point. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY PLACE” You scream with your entire being. You stood there arms wrapping around yourself as you watched Jack’s expression harden as he turned on his toes and left. But not before slamming the door pissed at you for not immediately forgiving him like you usually did when you fought. 

As soon as the doors slammed you fell on your couch just letting all the tears fall freely from your face. Just wishing you could just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, only to find this was all some type of twisted dream. You ended up ordering some pizza, once it got there you sat on the coach and rewatched your favorite comfort show. You ended up falling asleep to take a nap around 7 and woke up around 10:30, T.V still blaring, you hear your phone buzzing under you. Finally when you're able to get from under you, you can see multiple missed texts from Jack,.

My Love 🏒 @ 10:34 PM

Hhhiii

I am sorry

I didn’t mean to hurt you and i love you 

So much more then you could ever know babygirl

I miss you

I wish you were here 

All the texts are literally within 30 seconds of each other. At first you tried to ignore Jack’s first couple messages, writing it off as him being drunk. Jack tended to be even more likely to share his feelings and more touchy when he was tipsy. But then you hopped on Instagram to do some mindless scrolling and saw Nico girlfriend’s Stacey’s private Instagram story where everyone looked like they were having a blast. Everyone except your precious Jack who looked like he was a puppy who literally had just been kicked. Your phone dinged again, another text from Jack, 

My Love 🏒 @ 10:39 PM

I know you saw my messages baby 

Did you forget we have our read receipts on cause we love each other

I know you were tired from work and didn’t wanna come out

But I wish I could do shots with you instead of Luke

He always looks like an energetic bunny when the bartenders serve him without even asking for his fake ID.

Still deciding if you're going to answer Jack or not purely because you weren’t sure you were ready to after earlier tonight.  You decide to watch some more T.V and get your mind to relax before you will literally pass out again from exhaustion. Your phone dings again, you were prepared to answer a very annoyingly tipsy Jack just so he could stop texting you. But you were surprised when it came through as a video sent to you by Jesper. You clicked on the video. It's obvious that it’s Jesper and some girl dancing. You can tell from the video that the girl is holding the phone, while both of Jesper’s hands are around her hips. Suddenly you can see in the background Jack and Luke talking. Jesper quickly takes his phone and then flips the camera around to the pair. He zooms in on Jack looking quite sad and almost lost and then turns the camera back around so it's facing himself. “Listen Y/N can you please come get him, I told him to go home to you but he won’t listen and keeps saying something about you don’t want him there and if he keeps drinking he is going to start crying and you know the team won’t ever let that go. So really for his own reputation being protected can you come pick his ass up. Also love you and hope this didn’t wake you up. Cause you're scary when someone messes with your sleep.” 

The video ends as quickly as it began and you chuckle at the comment about your sleep. After some mental debating, you decided to just go to the bar at least to pick Jack up. You hated fighting with him anyway and him looking all sad made your heart hurt. You decided to surprise Jack and not let him know you were coming because then he wouldn’t leave you alone until you got there. You decided to get changed out of your sweats - well Jack sweats - before you left. You decided to wear just a basic pair of black jeans, a t-shirt and some air force ones. As you glance in the mirror you chuckle to yourself as you are dressed exactly like something Quinn would wear. You swear to yourself you used to dress nicer before you started talking to Jack. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you find a parking spot and get out of your car. You silently curse to yourself as the clouds open up and rain pours down hard. You started to lightly jog down the street to get into the bar before you became completely soaked. Once you got through the bouncer and got your ID back you stepped into the dimly lit bar. Immediately you're met by Jesper and the girl you recognize from the video. 

“Oh my God Y/N you're here! Wow well let’s just get you a drink” as he is obviously trying to steer you to the bar. The girl standing on the other side of you.

“No Jesper I just came to get Jack and go home. I drove here. I'm not drinking. Where’s Jack?” You ask and that’s when you turn to face Jesper and you spot the rest of the hockey team taking up a few tables near the back. In the far corner you spot Jack, but before you can feel relief for finding him so quickly. You immediately become nausious  because he’s cuddling up with a girl. A girl you recognized off instagram as one of those New Yorker model/influencers and before you can make yourself turn away. You saw them kissing, you felt sick, your stomach dropping. You shouldn’t be this upset since you knew who Jack was when you met him. Hell you were one of the girls who slid into his DMs. Jesper catches your eye as the random girl behind you touches your shoulder trying to comfort you. 

“Y/N.” Jesper says softly. 

“Nope, don't. I’m not upset really, it’s not like we were together or anything just some fuck buddies right? He can do whatever he wants and fuck we both can do whatever the fuck we want right.” You tell him as you turn to the bar. “Well I want a drink but not here. I’m going home. Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” Jesper whispers as his eyes soften as they look at you. 

“Don’t tell anyone I was here, especially Jack.” 

“Of course Y/N. I am sorry by the way.”

As you turn to leave you make eye-contact with Luke from across the bar and you knew you had to get out of here quickly. Even if Jesper promised not to tell anyone the Hughes brothers were always loyal to each other. It was one of the things you admired about Jack and his brothers when you met him. 

“Family is forever,” he told you one night. 

“Like Lilo and Stitch really J?”

“Okay don’t be a hater of where it comes from, the point stands. My brothers will always be here for me and I will be there for them.” He told you as he threw his arms around you as you laid on the coach.  “Just like I’ll always be here for you sweets.” As he gently kissed your cheek. 

You made it all the way out of the bar, storm fully in force now. Even the bouncer decided to abandon his outside post in order to stay dry. Once your feet hit the pavement, you took a second to let yourself feel all your emotions. You let out a soft scream of pure pain. It felt as if your heart was on fire, as you put your hands on your knees to help you catch your breath. But then your anxiety kicked in and you could feel the start of a panic attack starting. You wanted to move your feet because you knew Jack was going to be exiting the bar soon once Luke told him you were at the bar. But you can’t focus on anything as the anxiety overtakes your body. You could feel your nails digging into your knees just trying to bring you back down to Earth. Then you feel someone touch your shoulder. You assumed it was one of the WAGS or another teammate who might have seen everything go down. But then you hear his voice, Jack’s voice “Baby, Y/N it’s okay breath.-” 

As soon as your brian registers that it’s Jack you feel your body push him away. As you turn around not caring if he can see the tears softly starting to form in your eyes. “No - no” As you turn to quickly try to go to your car, each step faster than the last, until you're practically sprinting. 

You didn’t have to turn around to know that Jack was following after you. Jack would always come after you. He held your heart like a bungee cord, you might be able to walk away for a little bit. But in the end it would always snap back to Jack’s hands. 

“Wait please slow down Y/N/N-” he yells, speeding up his walking as you pick up your speed even more down the street. But when you hear his attempt to use that nickname you stop suddenly and turn around. 

“No you don’t get to call me that! That name is reserved for family and friends! And you don’t belong in either of those categories anymore.” You yell at him, barely able to hear yourself over the rain and pounding of your heart in your ears. You hope it sounded a lot more direct and hurtful than it sounded in your head. It must have done the trick because through your tears you could see Jack physically wince. 

“Please Y/N I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything to me okay. She came up to me and-” he started explaining but stopped when you put your hand up.

“Jack, please don’t hurt me more than you already have by telling me your bullshit excuses.” you plead. 

“It’s not bullshit! It’s the truth. I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” He says the ending a lot softer, almost a whisper compared to the screaming a few moments prior. 

“What are we doing Jack? I thought we were together, I thought you cared about me? But here we are, I can't do this.” you tell him, the tears streaming clearly down your face, the little bit of makeup you have on is now smearing. 

“Please baby… don’t say that. I do care about you, you know that. i - we weren’t together I didn’t know.” Jack argues. 

“Please you knew, you knew but you got caught in the moment. Saying you didn’t know would be like me not knowing the sky is blue or that the Earth isn’t round. I mean - FUCK - everyone knew Jack! I mean your mom calls me once a week to check-in with me. My mom asks about you whenever I talk to her on the phone. I mean I spend more nights in your bed than I do on my own. Geez even Anna asked me if I wanted to resign the lease for another year next month, or if I was moving in with you finally. So, don’t tell me you didn’t know, you knew. But for some reason you stopped yourself from accepting it. I don’t know, maybe you didn’t wanna settle for someone not famous, maybe it’s cause I don’t look like all the other WAGs, or maybe you were scared. Honestly I don’t give a shit what your excuse is or was for that matter. I am done Jack.” The tears slowly start to stop following down your face as you take another step back creating more space between you and Jack. 

You knew with each word you spoke you were hurting Jack more and more. But, in the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care especially when he opened his mouth next. 

“Yeah, well.. You know if you would have just come tonight, that girl probably would have never come up to me. She said she only came up to me because-” but before he could finish his final blow someone cut him off. 

“Jack!” Nico yelled, finally catching up to us. “That’s enough man. Your fucking drunk. Don’t say something you can’t fix in the morning” He says finally catching up to Jack. Softly putting his arms around his upper body, whether to stop him following you once you left or help him stand up straight you were unsure. 

“I can’t keep doing this to myself” you softly proclaim, not sure if you're telling yourself or Jack. “I deserve better, and honestly so do you. I can’t keep loving you with my entire being. While you can’t even admit that we were in a committed relationship.And you saying that you cheating tonight was basically my fault” You say as you look into Jack’s eyes. Somehow your words broke Jack. His anger from moments ago became deep regret. 

“We never had the talk.” He whispers whether to himself or you it’s unclear but it lights a fire inside you, Nico slowly detached himself from Jack recognizing that neither of you probably wanted him there for this. He slowly made some distance between himself and Jack. 

“My god Jack for once in your life - open your goddamn eyes - okay yes we didn’t say it! We didn’t say that we were exclusive! But you know what we did talk about? We talked about having KIDS one day, getting MARRIED, living in MICHIGAN TOGETHER in the off seasons, traveling to Europe TOGETHER. So don’t - you don’t get to use that as your excuse!” By the end of your speech your throat was sore - you didn’t know if it was from the crying or screaming - perhaps a mixture of both. 

“I’m sorry Y/N '' Jack says, refusing to even look in your eyes anymore, instead finding comfort in staring at his shoes. 

“I know you are, but I can’t do this. Goodbye Jack.” you announce. Like it was some type of public service announcement that you were done with Jack. That you were done with the games and for the first time in your life you were choosing yourself. A small tiny part of you felt relief when you finally made it back to your car and buckled your seatbelt. Maybe it’s because for the first time in a year you knew where your relationship stood with Jack nonexistent.

[wyrmswears]

"Generator"; 1569 words.

The Administrator has something to show Agent Walker.

...

Sure, he knew it wasn’t the first time he had been called to a one-on-one meeting with The Administrator, but it may as well have been. It wasn’t like he remembered any of their previous interactions; he was going in blind all the same.

When his fax machine first spat out the offending paper, he believed it had been sent to the wrong agent. But there was his name at the top, ‘Agent Walker’. There was the possibility that someone else shared his surname, but as far as he was aware he was the only agent without a first name.

The listed meeting room wasn’t her office, nor was it one of the Administration’s more conventional meeting rooms, complete with tables 30 people long but only one person wide and more fake potted plants than you could ever imagine. No, today he had been called down to the lowest floor of the Administration: the server room. The part of his brain that understood technology bristled at that; it would be much more effective to place the server room on a higher floor. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t say anything about that to The Administrator when he faced her - he would stick to his department, as all good employees did. The networks and communications department could handle that one.

The elevator down required two separate keycards: one was his standard agent ID, and the other digitally recognised him as a department manager. The former granted him permission to move between floors, yes, but only the latter allowed him access to the basement.

The ride down took 2 minutes and 43 seconds. He counted. No one else entered the elevator the entire journey.

When the elevator reached the basement and the doors slid open, The Administrator was standing on the other side of them. He hoped he would forget this meeting like the others, if just so he could become ignorant to the way he jumped at her sudden appearance.

“Agent Walker.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Administrator, ma’am.”

She smiled. This did nothing to soothe his racing heart. “Come, let’s talk.” She beckoned and he followed her into the dark room.

It was large, but so were most rooms in the Administration. The realm reassignment department was tiny relative to the office rooms that the majority of their employees were stationed in. This room was about half the size of block 8E sub-block 185A A3/11√5. He could see three of the walls, dark stretches of concrete, sealing them in. The fourth that should’ve sat opposite to the elevator was obscured by rows upon rows upon rows of computer servers. A blue glow emanated from them and he grimaced at the thought of the voltage it would take to create a light that strong.

As he struggled to keep pace, The Administrator barely spared him a glance. “This may seem beyond your department, but trust me, your role will become clear soon.” She forewarned. She would never have him leave his department, he knew. That was the first rule of the Administration: Stay in your place. “What do you know of Lord Ras of the Wyldness?”

Lord Ras. He had heard that name. Some of the employees that hailed from Imperium had mentioned it in conversations coated with nothing short of hatred. The ‘outlander’ who had gained a position of such power in their otherwise closed society. That sort of talk only ever continued for a couple days before their new job turned their interest towards paperwork and mild office drama.

“Isn’t he the one trying to awaken ancient evils without a permit?”

The Administrator shot him a look, slow and venomous. “He is”, she nodded, “but that’s not important to us right now.” She walked towards him. He averted his gaze to the floor with stiffened shoulders but found that she only continued past him, down the alley of servers. She didn’t need to beckon him this time, he knew what he was meant to do. He followed.

There was little light between the pillars of computers. They were only between two rows of the many, but what he could see was endless. The towers sparked a theory in his mind about why she was mentioning the rogue lord. “We use a lot of power.” He started, testing the waters. The Administrator stopped walking and turned to face him, her silence commanding him to finish his speculation. “Lord Ras allied with Imperium by promising them power; do we need to ally with him too? To have enough power?”

The Administrator smiled and shook her head. Count two for smiles, and a contradiction - she must have expected him to guess wrong. “You’re right that we do plan to ally with him, but it is not out of need for power. We have all the power we could need.” She turned again and continued to weave her way through the computerised nest which was now composed of more than just server towers. Thick cables ran both overhead and underfoot, LEDs glowed from no visible circuitry, and the drone of electric humming and cooling fans only ever got louder the further they went.

Finally, they breached the sea of servers.

Now that he could see the wall they had been trekking towards all this time, he realised that it wasn’t made out of concrete the same as the other three walls. No, this one was glass. Despite this, nothing was visible from the other side. There was no depth at all, only pure light glowing an almost-white with its brightness (though when Walker inspected the way it lit up its surroundings, he realised it to be tinted pale blue).

In front of the glass wall, the cables reached their largest size before slipping underneath panels in the floor. The servers did not get within 10 metres of the wall. Instead, they stood guard in their rows, watching the tiny humans approach the divine light.

The Administrator hummed, snapping Walker’s attention back to her. She gestured towards the glass. “This is our power source. You can look, if you would like.”

He didn’t know if that was a good idea. Just looking at the glass from this distance was already beginning to hurt his eyes. Nonetheless, unsure if it was because The Administrator had told him to or because he chose to, he stepped forwards.

As he approached, he could feel the electricity in the air. It combed through his hair and bounced around a pit in his chest, dangerously close to the one that ached whenever he thought about the family he might’ve once had, before he forgot everything. He didn’t realise he was shaking with a strange sense of excitement until he was close enough to touch the glass and found himself unable to hold his hand still. He almost did touch the glass, but held back just before his fingers made contact. He still couldn’t see anything on the other side. Pale blue swallowed his vision.

He looked over his shoulder to The Administrator. She raised an eyebrow and jerked her head towards the glass again. He turned back. A bright light stared back at him.

He didn’t scream. This was unusual - Walker knew he was cowardly and anxious and that in any other scenario he would’ve jumped or fallen back or swung a punch - but something was different this time.

If anything, he stood closer than he did originally, watching the sparking lights with complete fascination. His breath fogged the glass.

“What is it?” He asked after what could’ve been anything between a second and a day, even though he couldn’t hear what he was saying over the pounding of his own heart.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The Administrator was at his side now. When had she moved? “It’s lightning.”

Like realising one’s hunger upon taking a bite of food, the word sparked an ache in the back of his head. “Lightning…” He knew what that was, of course, as well as where it came from. They must have captured it live from a storm. He had never seen a storm before, but he had heard anecdotes of them from newly recruited employees and field agents alike. He was jealous. Did all lightning look like this? Freckles and curls?

She watched as he pressed a hand to the glass. The lightning responded in kind, pressing the palm of its hand opposite to his. “We could let it go of course, but it would run away. Far from here.”

Far from here… No. They couldn’t let it free. Now that he had seen it, felt it, he knew he couldn’t bear to part with it. They had to keep it contained. He told The Administrator such.

She nodded and smiled again. “I knew you’d understand.”

He dropped his gaze to study the hand that would’ve held his if it could.

It was almost the same pale blue that shone through the rest of the glass, but somehow brighter. The similarity in colours made it hard to tell the form of the figure apart from its glow, but blue and yellow markings fanned out across its form like the branches of a pine tree. Lichtenberg figures, his mind supplied.

He looked up at its face, admiring its curls and running a hand through his own. He wondered if he’d at all resemble the figure before him if he looked in a mirror.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘 | 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝟮

　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x fem!oc (Elena)

SUMMARY: When Elena leaves after Matt confesses his feelings, will he try again to win the girl?

WARNING: A little angst and mentions of a break up.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 1

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Elena closed her eyes as a sigh escaped her lips, her arms resting on the armrest of the uncomfortable plane seat. Her back was tense as her mind ran through everything she would do and say upon landing in New York. Her eyes opened momentarily, focusing on the small window on her left side, watching the clouds around her.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt repeatedly banged his fist on the front door of Elena's grandparents' house, impatiently waiting while his brothers stood behind him, trying to keep him calm.

"You'll end up breaking down the door like that." Nick commented, tapping his right foot anxiously against the floor, also yearning for the resolution of the massive problem created by "simple" feelings.

"Shut up." Matt replied gruffly, straightening up in seconds as the sound of keys against the inside door lock sounded.

The door was finally opened and Elena's grandmother stood behind her, a dish towel over her right shoulder as a confused expression took over her face.

"Matt? Boys? Did something happen?" She asked, her eyes traveling over the boys.

"Hi grandma, is Lena here? I really need to talk to her." Matt asked, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt anxiously.

His heart seemed to freeze when a look of realization took over the older woman's eyes and she shook her head.

"Elena's already left, Matt. I'm sorry."

"She left? Like, is she on her way to New York right now?" The brunette asked, his eyes burning with tears that wanted to fall as his heart sank.

"Yes, my dear, she left almost an hour ago. Didn't she say goodbye to you?" The older one asked, looking at Nick and Chris briefly.

"No grandma, I don't know-" Nick started, but was cut off by Matt turning abruptly and running back to the sidewalk, heading to his parents' car in quick steps, his fingers searching for the control to quickly unlock the doors. "Matt!"

"I need to go after her. Is anyone coming with me?" Matt spoke loudly, finally unlocking the car and getting into the driver's seat.

His brothers looked at Elena's grandmother with an apologetic look before running towards the car, quickly getting in when Matt hit the horn, speeding them up.

Chris had barely closed the passenger seat door when Matt took off with the car, stepping on the accelerator and making sharp turns like he'd never done before, his eyes glued to the street in front of him paying maximum attention to where he was going and focused on getting to the airport in half the time the GPS showed.

"If you continue like this we're going to get there dead!" Nick screamed from the back seat, his hands gripping the back of the front seats as if his life depended on it.

Matt ignored him, stepping on the gas harder.

It didn't take long and the car finally stopped in front of the first main entrance to the airport, Matt turned the key, turning off the car and ripping off his seat belt, jumping out of the car and closing the door, starting to run into the airport.

"I've never seen him like that." Chris commented, taking off his own seat belt as he tried to calm his racing heart from the speed Matt made the car go.

"He's been madly in love with Elena for years Chris, I'm not surprised he's going crazy about it all." Nick replied, getting out of the car and waiting for Chris to close the passenger door, before they started walking towards the airport at a quick pace.

The two stopped after crossing the entrance, looking for their brother with their eyes and finding him in front of the ticket counter of the airline that flew from Boston to New York, looking at each other in confusion before walking towards Matt.

"Please, I just need a ticket for the nearest flight to New York." Matt asked in an almost desperate tone, his hands resting on the counter as he looked at the attendant.

"Calm down sir, I'm checking available times." The woman asked in a harsh tone, her hands working on the mouse and keyboard of the computer in front of her.

Nick, upon hearing his brother's request and the attendant's response, placed his hands firmly on Matt's shoulders, trying to calm him down before the woman called security.

"What the hell are you doing?" Chris asked, stopping next to the brunette with a surprised look.

"I'm going to New York." He responded quickly without looking away from the attendant, as if if he did so, she would disappear.

"Matt, are you crazy? Why-" Chris stopped mid-sentence at the pointed look Nick gave him, raising his arms in surrender. "Do what you think is best." He sighed, crossing his arms and turning his back to Matt, his eyes scanning the people hurriedly walking through the airport.

"I have a ticket available for the chair next to the emergency exit in 10 minutes, sir." The attendant looked up.

"You can select it for me." Matt asked quickly, taking out his wallet and handing over his identity documents and credit card, ready to pay for the ticket regardless of the amount.

A few minutes later the purchase was complete and Matt turned around, sighing heavily and looking briefly at his brothers before shrugging.

"It's my last chance, I need to take a chance and see what happens." He muttered in a low voice, earning looks of pity from his brothers.

"It's okay Matt, we understand." Nick spoke, quickly stroking his shoulder with his right hand.

"Let's get to the right gate before you miss your flight." Chris spoke, taking Matt's left arm and pulling him, starting to walk towards the gate informed by the attendant.

"Do you have your charger with you? Because you'll only go with your phone and wallet, right?" Nick asked a few seconds later, breaking the silence.

"Yes, I'll leave the car keys with Chris since he knows how to drive better and you can go home. Mom knows what I wanted to do if Elena wasn't here anymore, so there's no need to explain anything to her." Matt replied, keeping his eyes in front of him.

"Alright, if anything happens you can call us and we'll come to you as quickly as possible." Chris replied, taking the keys that Matt was holding tightly, putting them in his pocket and stopping walking when the three stopped in front of the respective gates.

Matt looked up and glanced at his brothers briefly, who offered him encouraging smiles.

"Go get your girl, Matt." Nick spoke with a smile on his face, making Matt let out a laugh, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Chris followed his laughter, slapping his shoulder with his right hand momentarily.

"It'll go alright." He encouraged, pushing Matt back slightly. The boy nodded and turned around, walking quickly towards the boarding counter when the flight announcement was made on the speaker.

Matt spent the flight looking at the back of the seat in front of him, with no window next to him and no head to watch anything on the mini television in front of him. His body was tense and his legs were swinging anxiously, time seemed to pass slower than ever.

Finally, an hour and a half later, the male voice on the loudspeaker announced that the landing would happen soon. Matt straightened up on the seat and picked up his phone, sending a quick text to his group with his brothers, notifying them of his arrival, knowing that it would be sent as soon as the internet signal reached his phone again, putting the device in his pocket again.

Matt sighed in relief when the flight was over, taking off his seatbelt and quickly crossing the plane's aisle, apologizing for the people he was bumping into along the way.

When the boy finally entered the airport again, his blue eyes traveled over the crowd of people there, now what?

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Elena stood outside the apartment she'd lived in for the past few years in New York, her face wet with tears of relief or tension, she couldn't exactly tell the difference. Her back was against the closed door behind her, listening to Jeremy pacing back and forth inside the apartment while her hands tightly gripped the handles of two of the three suitcases she had packed.

Jeremy didn't take the news of the breakup very well, it was everything he least expected and his emotional dependence on Elena seemed to swallow him momentarily during the conversation, turning it into an argument. He cursed the girl and her grandparents and hometown, judging her for returning there, as if if she hadn't done so, it would never have happened.

The "conversation" took about 40 minutes and was a complete rollercoaster, but in the end it was agreed that the engagement would actually be ended and that both would go their own way, as Jeremy didn't want to "ever look Elena in the face again", his words. Elena took another 30 minutes to pack her bags, picking up her main belongings and promising to pick up the rest over the next few days.

The apartment, which was purchased by the two together, would be sold and the value divided between the two.

The girl tried to control her breathing while her mind was in turmoil, she felt relief for having put an end on something she didn't want to, but she felt enormous guilt for hurting Jeremy.

She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that escaped her eyes, picking up her suitcase one at a time and taking them to the elevator. After a lot of effort, the girl managed to take all three suitcases to the building's garage and put them in the trunk of her car, closing the back door and getting into the driver's seat.

Her hands held the steering wheel for a few minutes while she thought about what she would do now.

The decision was made to go to her favorite coffee shop, which was also a bookstore, and have a coffee alone while thinking about her next steps, her mind divided between renting an apartment momentarily or returning to her parents' house until she finished college.

She knew that a normal person at that moment would probably seek refuge with someone trustworthy and that they could take shelter, but she had no one there, her parents were working and would only return home at night, and she no longer had a spare key, having left it behind with her parents when she moved away.

The girl started the car, wiping her face with her hands and thanking herself for choosing not to wear makeup that day, momentarily glancing at her appearance in the rearview mirror.

After a few minutes the car finally stopped in front of the bookstore, Elena took a deep breath before getting out of the vehicle, closing the door and locking it, before walking to the cafe.

The sound of the bell echoed through the small space and the smell of coffee and book pages hit the girl's nose, calming her instantly. She walked to the furthest table, sitting on the wooden chair and momentarily looking at the chair in front of her, wishing that a certain someone was there with her.

The sound of footsteps caught her attention and Elena raised her face, smiling small at the attendant before ordering just a coffee, thanking the waitress before looking down at the table again.

The girl felt her phone vibrate in her sweatshirt pocket, her right hand fishing for the device and analyzing the screen.

"Matt?" Elena answered the call, putting the phone to her ear, her eyebrows furrowed as she heard the rapid breathing on the other end and the sounds of horns and cars in the background.

"Elena, where are you? I went to your apartment and the doorman said you had just left." The boy spoke quickly on the other side, his breathless voice sounding like he had been running for long minutes.

"Wait, you're in New York? Matt, what's going on?" The girl asked, her eyes traveling around the cafeteria space as if she expected him to appear there out of nowhere.

"Elena, please." He pleaded with his voice, and Elena sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Book Cafe." The girl replied, her free hand playing with the menu anxiously, her mind wondering if this was some kind of prank.

The line went dead and Elena took the phone away from her ear with a confused expression, scoffing when she saw that Matt hung up, her hands were working on opening the messaging app and entering the chat with the boy, starting to write a text, but her attention was taken by the sound of the bell echoing through the space again.

Elena looked toward the door, her cell slipping out of her hands and landing on the wooden table as her eyes met those blue ones she loved so much.

Matt seemed to freeze in the doorway, his feet locked to the floor as his eyes looked back at Elena, noting her tired and tense state.

"Matt." Elena called, getting up from her chair slowly, turning to face him, choosing to wait for him to catch up when she saw him start to move.

"Elena." He responded, quickly approaching her and standing in front of her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked exasperatedly, running her eyes over the boy's condition, his messy hair and rumpled clothes, probably from the flight and how much he seemed to have ran around the city.

"I know you asked me not to come after you, but I don't like being contradicted. I needed to try Lena, just one more time." Matt spoke, his eyes showing all the emotions he felt at that moment, anguish, love, fear and tension.

"Oh Matt." The girl sighed, pulling him into a tight hug, her eyes burning with the tears that had already fallen and that wanted to fall again as her chest filled with love and gratitude.

"I'll always come to you, Lena." He murmured against the top of the girl's head. "Come on, let's sit down." Matt asked in a low tone, helping her sit in the chair she was previously in, before dragging the other chair to the side of the table, sitting next to Elena. "I know you have Jeremy and that you are going to get married, but I love you so much and at the amusement park everything was so much, I needed to look at you just one more time, really look into your eyes and tell you how much I love you and I want you in my life forever." Matt whispered, feeling more words wanting to leave his lips, but holding them back, he didn't want to act on the emotion more than he already did.

"I broke up with Jeremy, Matt." Elena said, looking at him with a firm look, smiling small when she saw the surprise flash through the brunette's eyes. "I ended my engagement with him because he wasn't you." She spoke, feeling her heart warm as an expression of pure shock and love took over Matt's face, his blue-eyed pupil instantly dilating and a smile stretching across his cheeks, his right hand reaching out and taking her left hand, interlacing their fingers.

"Elena, be mine. I've loved you since before I understood the meaning of love, in the most anxious and calm way I've ever loved. I want you with me for who you are and who you make me want to be." Matt whispered the words of love and declaration, creating an intimate atmosphere around them.

"I've been yours for a long time, Matt." Elena responded with a wide smile, leaning to the right and getting closer to Matt, calmly approaching the brunette's face and finally pressing her lips against his, initiating a calm kiss with just the movement of lips, with no tongue involved, the desire of both being just to enjoy each other's warmth.

After a few seconds Elena slowly pulled away, a happy sigh escaping her lips before her eyes opened carefully, the fear to open them and find out that everything was just a dream coursing through her veins, but Matt's hands against her face and his warm breath close to her lips was too real to be a lie.

"I ordered a coffee, have something with me." The girl asked with a smile, her hand lightly squeezing Matt's who still held hers.

The bubble around the two seemed to burst when the sound of footsteps and the smell of coffee approached, the attendant placing the cup of coffee ordered by the girl on the table and taking out her notepad, turning to Matt.

"Can I get you something, sir?"

"Yes, please."

me while writing this:

[autismnation]

Riot

Summary: There’s barely any fics of Hobie doing punk things even though he’s punk so here—you meet Hobie at a riot and get along instantly.

Pairing: Gender Neutral Reader x Hobie Brown

Warnings: Anarchist reader. Talks of politics and discrimination and fascism. Mentions of blood + mentions of injury (not detailed). Mentions of a riot (not detailed). Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender neutral reader with no y/n. 2nd person POV. Hobie might be OOC because I haven’t read all of his comics yet. Fluff (I guess?). Little bit of angst. Hurt/comfort (I think?). I’m British but might have used Brit slang incorrectly (I just typed down every slang word I’ve ever heard to be honest). I projected my views in this fic so if you don’t agree then sorry not sorry don’t complain lol.

Words: 1.6k

Flames engulfed the sky, cars overturned, windows smashed. People screamed as they fled through the streets, dodging tear gas and riot police.

You could barely manage to find refuge in a nearby alley, sinking against the wall as you stared at the cut on your leg. It wasn’t too deep but it was oozing blood at a constant rate. You thought you were on your own until you noticed someone walking toward you.

“Let me ‘ave a look at that,” the man said when he was close enough, a black bandana covering his face.

Startled by his words, you tried to shuffle backward and get away from him, but your injured leg made it hard.

“Get away from me,” you demanded, your voice firm.

You didn’t know the man, and due to the darkness, you couldn't see anything about him. You didn't know if he was a cop, a fellow protestor, or someone involved with neither. Either way, you were afraid to find out.

“Relax, mate,” the man said, his voice calm. Even though his face was obscured, you could hear the friendly smile in his voice. He had a tall and lanky appearance, opposite the muscular cops who would abuse anyone given the chance.

“Just want to help. If I was a cop, would I be wearin’ this?” He gestured to his bandana covering his face. “The fuzz don’t wear these, do they?”

You furrowed your brow at his words and leaned against the wall behind you, resting your head against it. He made sense. Didn’t mean you trusted him, but the pain in your leg was intensifying with each passing moment.

“I guess not, unless they’re undercover,” you said, then shook your head. “But I don’t care anymore, just help me.”

“That’s what I’m ‘ere for,” the man said, hooking his arm around yours and pulling you to your feet. “But we gotta get outta here. Now.”

Before you could process his words, he dragged you through the streets, sprinting and rushing through alleyways, remaining vigilant for any sign of cops.

Luckily, there were none. None chasing after you.

Suddenly, the man pushed you in front of him, guiding you up some stairs. Pushing open a steel door, you entered a partially demolished room, with one wall completely gone, overlooking the street. You could see the riot still going on, but it was impossible to determine if it was successful. There were more cars on fire than before, and the cops seemed never-ending.

“Hey, let me take care of ya,” the man said softly. He grabbed your shoulder and forcefully pulled you away from the scene, sitting you down on a disheveled and rather uncomfortable sofa.

The man pulled down his bandana, displaying the piercings adorning his face—a septum, two nostril piercings, snakebites.

His brow furrowed in concentration as he retrieved an antiseptic wipe from his jacket and got to work tending to your cut. You winced and your leg jerked. He held your leg in place, grip gentle but firm.

“That's a blood nasty cut,” the man sighed. “What happened? Did they get you with a baton?”

You shook your head, “No, it was glass, I think. I didn't escape quick enough when the first explosion went off. Were you there?”

“’Course I was," the man nodded, glancing up at you. “Name's Hobie Brown.”

You told him your name before glancing down at your cut, which looked much better. “What's the diagnosis, doc?” you joked. “Am I gonna live to see another day?”

Hobie let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head, “No, we’re gonna have to cut it off.”

“You got a prosthetic on you?”

“Nah, I’m kiddin’,” Hobie chuckled as he bandaged your leg. “You just ‘ad a nasty scrap with some coppers, nothin’ major.”

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, feeling a warmth blooming in your chest. “Thanks for taking care of me. Both physically and emotionally. Usually, I go home and have a massive cry.”

“It’s alright, I’ve been in similar situations. You’re not alone,” Hobie smiled back before sitting on the sofa beside you, one arm leaning on the back of it and almost wrapped around you. “So, what’s your story? You live around here? How come you ain’t scared of getting injured or arrested?”

You shrugged, “I don’t...I don’t really have a story. And I am scared, I’m just even more scared of having more of my rights taken away. So I gotta do something. It also helps that my anger overrides my fear.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a story. At least, it’s in the makin’,” Hobie replied. “So, what made ya pick up the fight?”

“Because fascists are cowards who need to die.”

Hobie laughed and clapped you on the back. “No nonsense, I like it. Couldn’t agree more. They ain’t got no place ‘ere. Respect others, help others, y’know?” Hobie said and pointed to the wall opposite you, reading the spray-painted words.

“Do no harm, take no shit,” you nodded in agreement, pointing to the pin on your jacket.

Hobie’s eyes widened a little. “Damn, that’s a wicked jacket. Mind if I take a look?”

“Go for it,” you said, and Hobie immediately started exploring every inch.

It wasn’t intrusive or uncomfortable. He did it with the excitement of a kid, running his hands over each pin and admiring the sewing on your patches. He gently touched the spikes attached to the material and let out a chuckle.

“That’s badass,” Hobie grinned wide. “You made this yourself?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I got the jacket from a charity shop and made mostly everything myself. I made the spikes using cans.”

“Cans? I never would’ve thought of that,” Hobie commented as he ran his hand over your spikes again and let out a small hiss when one of them poked him. Then, he took a pin off his own jacket and placed it in your hand, “From me to you.”

“Eat The Rich,” you read aloud, smiling. Then, you secured it onto your jacket and gave him one of your pins: one that read ‘courage is contagious’.

“You think I’ve got courage?” Hobie said, flattered, “I thought I was just gobby.”

“You are, probably,” you joked, “But you’re also very brave.”

“Not brave, just got no choice,” Hobie corrected but secured your pin onto his jacket anyway, “I can’t stand by and watch the world go to shit. The fash need to be sorted.”

You leaned over and flicked him on the cheek, making him laugh, “That is bravery, idiot. I mean, yeah, maybe to you it’s the only option, but I know plenty of other people who just lie down and take it. And I’m not calling them cowards because it’s their choice not to fight back, and it’s understandable given the many risks involved. But you are brave, Hobie Brown.”

“Other people probably disagree,” Hobie shrugged, “I just don’t wanna be controlled. Hate the government, always have.”

“Me too.”

“I can tell,” Hobie laughed before pointing to the anarchist pin you had on your jacket.

“Power’s nothing but a problem,” you replied simply.

Hobie nodded, “Power, money, fame don’t mean nothing. ‘Specially not in this shitty, capitalist hellscape we find ourselves in. I’m tired of all the greed and corruption. I’m tired of seeing people suffer and go hungry, go homeless, and being kept down by the man. All them posh heads up in their ivory towers, they don’t understand us normal folk. I bet some of them can’t even fathom where we’re coming from. They’ve never had to fight for their rights, or fight for their meals.”

You listened intently, breaking out into a grin, “You should do speeches. That was really good.”

“Speeches?” Hobie repeated and laughed. He had always been more of an action-oriented person. “Nah, I think I’d make a right hash of a speech. I prefer screaming into a mic.”

“You sing?”

“Decently,” Hobie shrugged, “Got a band. It’s called ‘Anarchic Arachnids’.”

Your eyes widened, immediately recognizing the name, “Oh, shit! I was gonna go to one of your concerts but then some work stuff came up.”

“Shame. We’re quite good in my opinion,” Hobie smirked.

“Yes, the lead singer’s opinion is very reliable,” you said sarcastically.

“So, you got a team like me? Or are you rollin’ solo?”

“I’m rollin’ solo,” you told him with a light shrug, “Well, mostly. I used to go out with some work friends sometimes, but then Osborn raised the taxes, so I’ve got barely anything on me now. I gotta steal food from shops just to have enough.”

“Stealin’ from the shops, eh?” Hobie nudged you playfully with a smirk, “Me too. Though I haven’t eaten anything much good since the riots started. All the shops near me got burned down or looted, so I've barely got anything to scrape by.”

Your heart hurt at Hobie’s words—no person should struggle to eat, and it hurt even more so because you considered Hobie a friend.

“That’s a bunch of bullshit,” you frowned, reaching over to place a supportive hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you come back to my place? I’m not the best cook, but I do make some good beans on toast…Mostly because it’s cheap and easy, so I’ve perfected it, but still. I can make you a meal and also give you some cans to keep you going for a bit.”

“You offerin’ me food?” Hobie chuckled. It wasn’t that he thought it was stupid or a bad offer; he was clearly pleased but surprised. “I’d appreciate that. Means a lot, ya understand? Don’t even matter if I go back with you or just take some food, I appreciate your kindness.”

“I’ll do both. C’mon, I don’t live too far away,” you said and grabbed his hand, pulling him up from the sofa with you.

Instead of leaving with you, Hobie wrapped his arms around you and hugged tightly.

“Really, thanks,” he murmured and you could only laugh to yourself.

Seems like you wouldn’t be solo any longer.

[perceivedregret]

just a (long) snippet of pt 19 of so it goes, my vampire!steve au where blood sucking happens and human!eddie kinda maybe sorta doesn't mind it much. part one and the link to my ao3 in my pinned if youre interested ♡

Steve shifts uncomfortably, feeling heavy, like he’s drugged out on Hawthorne. Since he passed the threshold, something has changed in the air, but he can't figure out what, just knows he would do well to get out of here before he does something stupid. He shakes his head, hopes it'll clear it. It doesn't, so he sighs. “Well, thanks but uh, I should–”

“Do you want a smoke?” Eddie interrupts, his hands procuring a box of cigarettes from his pocket.

The thing is, Steve really shouldn’t stay.

He shouldn’t stay because his gums are starting to ache and he has a migraine behind his eyes beginning to form. He should be getting in his car, he should be driving away, should be getting back to putting as much space as possible between himself and Eddie Munson, the man he’s supposed to hate, the same man he's kissed while sipping his blood.

Except he doesn’t and instead he mutters: “Sure, I could use a smoke.” Eddie grins a languid thing, one that sends a shot of ice down Steve's spine. And with that smile he continues to surprise Steve. He doesn't go out the front door as Steve expected. Instead, he shuts the door and walks past Steve, past the kitchen, and back into a room. Steve follows and comes up short when he realizes this is his room.

Eddie is already lighting his smoke when he turns, catching Steve stuck at the edge of his door. He exhales, smoke spreading across the room.

“Am I supposed to invite you into every room?” he asks, sitting along the edge of his bed, offering Steve a butt from his case. Steve struggles with a breath as he crosses the threshold and takes the offered cig.

“No, no,” Steve says, lowering his head as Eddie offers a light, thanking him silently once the cooling burn of smoke fills his lungs. He exhales, adds to the billow of rising smoke. “I just thought we’d take it outside, or something.”

“Well, I hope 'or something' is good enough. I um." Eddie shifts, moves until he's as close to the edge as he can be without being off his bed, leg bouncing almost erratically. He clears his throat. "I actually wanted to talk to you. To ask you some things," Eddie mumbles. He takes another inhale, exhales in the general direction of Steve. Steve suddenly really regrets agreeing to stay, the smoke doing barely anything to dampen the smell of his blood on his breath.

“What um… sure, what's up?” Steve stutters, nearly fumbling his smoke.

"How did you die?" Eddie asks, relaxing back into his bed, hair sprawled out in a halo around his head.

Steve takes a sharp inhale of smoke as he remembers the night. "A girl named Heather. The same one who turned Chrissy, she uh, snapped my neck. It's her go to move, I guess."

"Is that how..." Eddie doesn't finish it but Steve knows he's talking about Chrissy.

"Yeah."

"Hm. Did it hurt?"

Steve sways his head as he considers how to answer, knows he's really asking for Chrissy. "Kinda, yes? But also, no. It was quick. It's like I went to sleep and had that dream where it feels like you're falling out of bed and suddenly it's like all the air was knocked out of my lungs when I first woke up. After that, the first breath, it's always the hardest when you come back."

"Hardest when you come back after that? What do you mean, do you have to die more than once to turn?"

Steve laughs as he scratches absentmindedly along his cheek. "No no, not to turn, but we can still technically die again after we've changed. I've uhh, had my neck snapped a few times in the past to get, uh, subdued. Hurts like a bitch for second but again, it's over so quick it kinda doesn't matter. We can't die that easily. We can only be killed by fire of the sun, a stake to the chest, decap-" Steve motions towards his head with a click of his teeth, "-or having our hearts ripped out."

Eddie whistles, smoke escaping his lips with the sound. "Ouch."

"Yeah." Steve takes another drag, adding to the fog that surrounds them. "So, what else do you want to know?"

Eddie takes a deep breath and Steve tenses as he says-

“You kissed me and I want to know why.”

A swallow gets caught in Steve’s throat, his mouth suddenly dry as his attention snaps back from the haze that threatens to take him. “What?”

Eddie waves him off. “Okay, ya know what, we can skip that for now. Did you mean to hit me?”

Steve scoffs, taking a step forward. “Of course not.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“It was an accident,” Steve nearly shouts. “I didn’t mean to, man, but you cornered me.”

Eddie hums, shifting his weight as he seems to build himself up to ask- “Was the kiss also an accident?”

“No.” Steve says it faster than his mind can process the question. No? What do you mean no, Harrington? he thinks to himself. “I mean yes. I mean, I- I don’t know. No?”

“Then why’d you do it?”

Steve balks. “You were bleeding, alright, and I'm a vampire! You were bleeding and it was an accident. You cornered me, okay and well, I– you, you.” Steve snaps his fingers as the first coherent thought forms. “Okay, well, why did you follow me in there to begin with? None of that would have happened if you didn’t go in there.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie mutters quietly, his cigarette already nearing its end.

“What do you mean you don’t know, you’re the entire reason it happened.” Steve’s own cig sits half abandoned between his fingers, his mind and heart racing. Why did I stay? he thinks.

“I don’t know.” Eddie stands up and Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. The air has shifted yet again. He didn’t realize how close in proximity he was to Eddie until he stood and their noses nearly touched. Eddie puts out the butt of his cigarette and takes Steve’s, his officially abandoned.

“What, man, do I scare you?” Eddie muses, a quirk of his lips that makes his dimples show.

“A little,” Steve breathes, surprised by his own honesty. It surprises Eddie as well, if his raised eyebrows are anything to go by. “I mean, no, it's.... I'm not really scared of you, just like. I guess scared of what I can do to you, if that makes sense.”

“Like what,” Eddie breathes, stepping closer, closer again, close enough to crowd Steve’s space. Steve swallows on nothing as he stumbles into a dresser, fingers grasped tightly along the edges of it. Eddie continues to crowd in, until he’s too close. "What are you scared of doing to me?” Eddie murmurs, eyes flashing down once to Steve’s lips.

The air is suffocating.

“You should be the one scared of me,” Steve says quietly, seems to have unconsciously leaned forward because he’s suddenly breathing the same air as Eddie, his scent, his entire being. Ever since he’s had a taste he’s been craving him and right now it's the hardest it's ever been to resist.

Why didn’t I leave, he thinks again. His throat is on fire, burning as the scent of Eddie’s blood fills his head. His thinks about his last drink, which was Eddie, and how sweet and this side of intoxicating it had been.

How Eddie's lips felt while he drank his blood.

“What are you doing,” Steve breathes, Eddie's hands heavy searing brands on his waist.

“I don’t know.” Eddie breathes back, and suddenly he’s kissing Steve Harrington....

read the rest and the start on my ao3

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

"i have to go to sleep" i say

"i really have to go to sleep" i say again, four hours later

[greensagephase]

So I took off Sunday to rest after posting two things this weekend, and also because I didn't know what my Monday was going to look like. I was summoned for jury duty, and thankfully the case was settled today, so yayy, no more court time for me! 🥳 I get so stressed out with anything regarding the legal system lol, I literally broke out in hives and had a migraine yesterday 😭

But anyway, now that I don't have to worry about being a juror, I can focus on my writing in peace! I'm hoping to post an update for NC this Friday or Saturday, if all goes well!!

So far, I've made myself giggle and kick my feet twice thanks to Miguel, so I think I'm ✨cooking✨

[puhpandas]

Rabbit Burrow

(3,785 words) Part 1 (part 2 found here)

Tony Becker, one year after surviving the attack from GGY, tracks down Gregory post-SB. But he has to get through Vanessa before he can get to Gregory.

Tony likes to think his detective skills are pretty good. So when he swings a leg over the seat of his bike and wheels it near the entrance, he hopes it's the right place.

He'd tracked down Gregory to this apartment complex somewhere in Gale county. It's still in Hurricane, and Tony had been able to reach it with just a bus ride. The apartment is somewhat run-down, but clean enough to where you can tell it's well kept, just old. The air conditioning units he passes on the way to the front door are brand new.

He'd taken the closest bus to Gale county right after school let out. He'd been restless all day up until finally acting on his findings. Tony has been searching for Gregory for a year. Finally finding something and having to wait for his middle school day to end was agonizing. He just hopes his Mom and Grandma wont be too mad at him.

He'd wrestled his bike he'd ridden to school that day discreetly onto the bus and wedged it in-between his legs and the seat in front of him. The air had been humid and thick all day with the signs of a storm, and Tony had seen the dark clouds and heard the thunder peeking over the treeline outside the bus window on the way here. He ducks inside the front door and beats the rain by seconds.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist asks him, giving him a weird look when he steps inside. Shes a lady with long, styled black hair and covered in jewelry. Tony tries not to look too suspicious as he sends her a polite smile, heading to the elevator on the wall to the left. He would also be wary if someone he'd never seen walked into a resident building.

"Just seeing an old friend." He tells her. He presses the button to the third floor and tries to break her gaze by stepping behind the closing doors. The elevator shakes a bit before moving up.

He tries to take a deep breath. Theres some kind of excitement floating around in his chest at the fact that he's done it, but he pushes it down, lowering his expectations.

Despite his theories, he really has no clue what to expect. Theres some sort of worry mixing with the excitement, and all he decides is that if he escaped once, he can do it again.

It both took too long and not fast enough when he finally reaches the third floor. He double checks his crumpled sheet of notebook paper in his hand once, then a second time, something nervous but anticipating thrumming in his veins.

He steps onto the beige carpet of the long hallway, fresh vacuum marks in it, and follows the number plates by each door before coming to a stop near the middle of the hall.

3-05 The plate reads back to him. He quadruple checks his paper again. Its right.

He sighs out deeply, not even realizing he was holding his breath. Despite himself, his brows crease ever so slightly.

He shakes it away, pushing past it. Maybe digging too deep is what got him into trouble before, but its different now. Tony... Tony's learned things during his search for Gregorys location. If there was any point during his investigation that he would call digging too deep, it would have been months earlier from now.

Besides. Tony has always been bad at staving off his curiosity.

He thunks his knuckles on the white wood of the door quickly after that, three times in succession. He kind of bluescreens for a second when he realizes what he just did, then shakes it off. Waiting with wide eyes at the door, watching for a rattling of a doorknob or listening for incoming footsteps.

Nothing. He waits a few more minutes before knocking again, this time a little louder and harder.

Tony perks up when footsteps finally near the door, and his lips part prematurely when the doorknob rattles, not even put-together words yet on his tongue. They fall away immediately when a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail opens the door, one of those chain locks keeping it open maximum of three inches. "Hello?"

He stutters for a moment, words lost on his tongue, before he clears his throat, putting on a polite smile. "Hi, there." He says. "Um. Who are you?"

"I should be asking you that, kid." The woman raises a brow at him, never opening the door more than the chain lock allows it. She peers at him through the gap, and Tony tries as discreetly as possible to look past her head and shoulder into the apartment itself. "What are you doing here?"

When he looks back, shes still looking at him in a way Tony can only describe as cautious. The light in the hallway on the ceiling is flickering, and it casts split second shadows on the womans face that makes the bags under her eyes that much more prominent and her face that much more intimidating. "Well?"

Tony realizes he hasnt answered, and coughs slighty. "Oh. Sorry." He says, reluctant to continue. "I'm... I'm looking for Gregory."

Tony watches intensely to see if the name rings a bell or catches her attention. Just as he expects, her face twists ever so slightly in recognition. Tony catches something adjacent to panic or fear in her eyes until it's gone not half a second later.

"Who's asking?" She asks eventually, voice carefully even after a what appeared to Tony to be a mini conundrum in her head.

"His friend." He answers honestly. He ducks his head when the woman scrutinizes him, looking almost angry, but restrained enough to not show it. "I mean it," He says earnestly. "he and I... we were best friends. Last year. I came here to look for him."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at that, and she studies him, eyes flicking back and forth over his face and his clothes and his hair. Tony doesnt miss the way her eyes linger for a millisecond on his scars. Its silent in the hall save for the two looking at eachother, and the buzzing of the flickering light on the ceiling is enough to save him from hearing his own heartbeat.

"Okay." She says eventually, and Tony subconsciously feels himself sag a bit at the relief that he won't turned away right as he was this close. She shuts the door without a word, and all Tony can do is stare at the peeling landlord white paint on the door as the sounds of the woman unlatching the multiple locks on the other side reach his ears. He waits patiently, until she cracks the door open not much wider than it had been with the lock, but just enough to fit his body in. "Come in. But no word to anyone. Got it?"

About what? Tony's about to ask, but then he steps through the door and the words die on his tongue.

"Oh." He says outwardly when Glamrock Freddy Fazbear sits on the couch. His body is adjacent to the patchwork quilt Tony has on his bed that his Grandma made him, and any of the makeup he had been painted with has long since scratched off.

His eyes are shut, and theres two jump cables attached to his ears that are plugged into a portable something. He doesn't so much as twitch when Tony enters the room.

The woman gives him a look after she re-locks only the deadbolt behind him and passes him into the apartment. "Oh." He repeats. "Not a word."

She nods at him, and it's only now that Tony can see the rest of her that isnt just her face. Shes in her twenties, if he had to guess, and she has a white tank top on with some sort of stain near the collar along with Hello Kitty fleece pajama pants. Her socks are mismatched and her nails are painted a purple color that could rival the deep bags under her eyes.

She collapses into an armchair (which hes pretty sure has a mismatched leg attached to it half-hazardously) and only looks at him silently as he steps further into the house, not so discreetly angling his body to get a peek past walls and open doors across the house.

Shes about to speak when Tony does first, "Wheres Greg?" He asks straight up. "Can I see him?"

Her lips twitch, and she just leans further back into the chair. The TV is playing some sort of Spring baking show, and the droning of the host mixes with the pattering of the rain on the window on the wall by the TV.

Anticipation and impatient-ness buzzes under his skin at being right here, and this woman undoubtedly knowing Gregory certainly doesnt help.

She only hesitates for a moment, but Tony can see the influx of thoughts that undoubtedly ran through her mind. She opens her mouth, taking a slow breath, before, "At school."

"He goes to school?" Tony gasps slightly, eyes widening. He moves to the couch, toeing past Freddy Fazbear as to not touch him even with just a brush of his jeans before sitting down, facing her. "What school?"

"He goes to Raindrop." The woman tells him, seemingly not hesitating this time.

It doesn't ring a bell, but it must be a middle school in Gale county. "...I go to Hailstorm." Tony says. "We both did. Or used to."

She stares at him after that, fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. She says nothing, just scrutinizing him, before, "You sure have a lot of cryptic ways of telling me how you used to know Gregory."

He wants to apologize, because it seems like what to do in response to that statement, but for some reason, that feeling in his gut he's learned to trust as his Detective sense tells him that he shouldn't.

Shes still looking at him intensely, and the rain outside pattering on the window somehow feels louder. There's some thunder outside that rumbles the floor, and the lighting casts a shadow on the living room. A few white lines across the coffee table caused by the blinds covering the window.

Her face doesnt so much as twitch, he notices, and she doesn't blink when she looks at him. Her green eyes bore into him, almost glowing in the shadow cast beneath her bangs. It reminds him of how he'd done to her not minutes ago. What he does to people he wants to analyze. To see how they react to something.

That's what shes waiting for, he realizes. He has a feeling that if he doesnt match her cryptic bluntness and instead apologizes and caves that easily, that it will somehow result in her turning him away.

Theres a glint in her eye when he becomes aware of reality again enough to look, and he thinks she somehow just came to the conclusion that Tony figured it out.

Then, he tries to sit up a bit straighter, and muster up that same glint mirroring back at him. "You sure have a cryptic way of letting me know you dont trust me."

Her mouth twitches slightly, but its all Tony needs to know he'd guessed correctly.

Its silent for a moment, and the woman grabs the remote on the next arm over and pauses the baking show she'd been watching. She shifts in the red velvet seat, as if getting comfortable, before, "Tell me how you know Gregory, and I'll tell you how I know him."

He has a feeling he isnt getting to Gregory unless he gets through this woman first, so he clears his throat, leaning his forearms on his knees.

"Me and Gregory met early last year at the beginning of the school year." He begins. "Right after summer ended in August. He was the new kid, and he sat at our table at lunch since it was mostly empty. Me and my friend arent the most popular, so there was room to spare."

She waves a hand, signaling him to stop. "Your friend?" She asks. He nods. "How many of there were you?"

"...Just me and E-- my friend." He says. "There were two of us, and when Greg sat at our table, we remembered how he looked a little lost earlier in class and we introduced ourselves. Then we just... clicked, I guess. He would partner with us in creative writing."

"Writing, huh?" She smiles slightly.

"Yeah." He replies. "Then, it was just business as usual for the months afterwards." He pauses, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket he loves so much that reminds him of the trenchcoats big city investigators wear. "Then... I had gotten wrapped up in this mystery."

She shifts, crossing a leg over the over and holding her hands together. "A mystery?"

Tony nods, remembering it like it was yesterday. He thumbs the part of arm where a scar is on his arm that his jacket covers. "The three of us would always go to the arcade in the Pizzaplex." He tells her. "And one day, I noticed high scores that seemed impossible to reach, and I became obsessed with solving who it was who had gotten there."

Tony thinks hes very good at reading people. So he doesn't think it's just his imagination when the woman in front of him goes a little rigid in her seat.

Theres some sort of creases under her eyes, Tony notices, that weren't there before.

"What did you do?" She asks.

Tony has a feeling that she somehow knows already. So he doesnt beat around the bush.

"I solved the mystery, eventually." Tony says. "Because GGY had been Gregory, and he'd invited me to the Pizzaplex and tried to kill me."

She sags a bit, looking somehow infinitely more tired, but no surprise detected. "But you survived."

"Not..." He shakes his head, picking at the skin by his fingernails. "I wouldn't have. If not for Greg saving me."

"Huh?"

"He--" Tony searches for the words, looking at the carpet between his knees and remembering that afternoon in every vivid detail he'd looked over countless times before. "He'd tried to kill me, yeah, but... he was almost fighting himself as he did it. He was like having a fistfight with himself."

He doesn't look up at her, he just keeps remembering how Gregory had gone rigid right before plunging the knife into Tony's gut a second time and stopped himself. How it had looked like somebody yanked Gregory backwards, but it had been his own self throwing his body. Just so he didnt hurt Tony again.

"He looked like he was a malfunctioning robot." He recalls. "He was like, hitting himself, and was making noises like he was fighting something. I was too frozen to move at the time, but then he threw me a really high security pass for the Pizzaplex and told me to run."

Then he had collapsed in front of him, like he was holding himself down. He doesn't tell the woman, though.

He looks back up to see her staring, eyes wide in suprise. She looks deep in thought for all but a few moments before shaking herself out of it. "So what did you do?"

"I ran." Tony says. "He had got me already. He stabbed me in the back, the first time. That was how I knew he was attacking me in the first place. But I ran away with the pass, and I went to a room with a ton of monitors and erased the security footage."

Her eyes blow wide as saucers, that time. "You got stabbed," she begins. "and instead of getting help, you erase the security footage?"

"Yeah." Tony nods. "Greg would have gotten in trouble if I didnt."

She's silent, after that. Tony just keeps picking at the skin on his fingers. "I somehow knew that Gregory didnt deserve to be. He just..." Tony trails off. "He didnt seem..."

"Seem like himself?" She suddenly cuts in, and Tony's eyes widen.

He nods, a small tilt of his head, and the woman sighs. "That's what being mind controlled will do to you."

A year ago, probably longer by now, Tony would have never believed that. He would have never thought something so outlandish that is only ever shown in fiction could be a possibility.

Not that he was wrong, to. Really, anyone in their right mind wouldnt think so. But things have changed since then.

And Tony has seen a lot of things during his search that probably nobody else has. Plus, This woman has been so cryptic up to this point. If she told him this straight up, and it's clear that she knows Gregory...

Suddenly, everything that day seems to make perfect sense. And everything he'd found that he'd filed away into his little mental Gregory crazy wall.

(He'd used to call it evidence wall, like normal people do. But, well, at some point, maybe Tony had thought the things he'd been finding were a bit too crazy to deem as normal.)

Theres been a stretch of silence while Tony had been taking that in, and he only breaks it to say, "Is mind control a topic you're familiar with in this house?"

Her eye twitches, a bit. And now that Tony is looking for it, he notices that same strange sheen on her eyes that Gregory had during their friendship. That weird red tinted film that makes their eyes turn a completely different color when the light hits them right.

Tony doesnt yet understand how the mind control Gregory had been under works, but all he can hope is that there are some side effects.

She stares at him, eyes narrow, and theres another roar of thunder outside the window.

"Who are you?"

"Tony." He answers. "Tony Becker. Ring a bell?"

She hums, and she looks at him in a way where he feels like he's being dissected.

"He didnt remember anything for a while." She says eventually. "But hes been having dreams, lately. Sometimes he talks about two kids he used to be friends with."

"Me and Ellis." Tony's eyes widen. It doesn't even occur to him that he shouldn't share Ellis's name.

"He worries about you." She says. "I've heard him say he hopes you're okay. You and that other kid. You must have been close if he remembers being that good of friends with the two of you."

"We were." Tony replies. Memories of him, Ellis, and Greg going to the Pizzaplex and trying to get the most dunks in the basketball hoops flash in his mind. He thinks about when Gregory would come over to Tony's little run down house that he shares with his Grandma, and they write graphic novels together for the fun of it.

Gregory liked to call them comics before he'd suddenly decided that stuff wasnt cool anymore and stopped coming over. It had been like everything Tony saw him enjoy that wasnt painfully average for a child suddenly didn't mean anything to him anymore.

And then Gregory tried to kill him in a dusty back room.

Everything hed given up seems to make more sense now. It wasnt willingly at all.

"He doesn't remember your names." She speaks up suddenly, ripping Tony out of his thoughts. "But he remembers more and more every time he has a dream. Something reminded him of you one day, I guess. That must have been when it started."

Tony opens his mouth, but the beeping of a digital clock interrupts him. He follows the womans arm as it reaches across the seat to turn it off.

The time reads 5:00pm.

He watches as she looks over at him, and nods to the door. "After school activity." She informs him, getting up out of the seat. His eyes follow her as she moves towards the front door. "I'm his ride."

Tony's eyes widen at the implications. "So I just--"

"Stay here." She tells him. She grabs a flannel off of the small coat rack by the front door and slips it on, sliding some Adidas sandals on top of her socks and reaching in the pocket of the coat to grab car keys. She pulls them out, and Tony notices that theres a keychain of a white rabbit dangling from the key ring.

The breath is suddenly stolen from his lungs, and he bolts off of the couch, a buzzing under his skin. "You're bringing him?"

She nods to Freddy Fazbear. "If you can wait." She smiles at him, and it's the first time Tony has seen her smile, instead of the carefully kept nonchalant-ness. "He'll wake up pretty soon once he's done charging. So you won't be completely alone."

Tony doesnt know what to say to that. Thousands of words spawned from the thousands of thoughts hes had about finding and tracking down Gregory are on the tip of his tongue, but he only gets any out when the woman begins to leave the house.

"Wait!" Tony reaches out a hand. She turns around, a brow raised. The door is still slightly ajar, and the sound of heavy rain reaches his ears. "What's your name?"

She smiles a bit at the question. "Vanessa."

"Vanessa," He asks, oddly desperate. "Dont tell him I'm here." He swallows. "I want to see him remember me."

Vanessa tilts her head, but nods after a moment. "Sure, kid."

She smiles one last time on her way out, and says, "Tony Becker."

The sound of the rain outside disperses when the door shuts and locks, and Tony doesnt move for a long while. He just stares at the landlord white door, electricity under his skin and something floaty in his stomach.

Greg. He thinks in his mind when he finally rips himself away and looks around some more, seeing a door propped slightly open down the hall with a bed and a desk with pencils and paper strewn all about. He doesn't dare go in, but stares at what he can see. Its been a while.

The silence is numbing, when he can only hear the faint whirring of Freddy Fazbear on the couch next to him and the rain on the window, he plants himself on the couch cushion next to the animatronic, grabbing the remote and resuming the baking show Vanessa had been watching.

He doesn't listen to a word. He just trembles with anticipation and bobs his leg up and down as he stares at a random corner of the screen.

ao3 link

[jessicas-pi]

One does not simply ignore the fact that you fake-kissed while on a mission.

Sabine and Ezra had not spoken in sixteen days.

People were getting suspicious.

Something had to be done.

So, Sabine woman’d up, and cornered Ezra in the Phantom.

“We need to talk,” she announced, a little more menacingly than she meant to.

She kind of expected him to panic and start stammering, but instead he let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We really need to talk.”

“Yeah…” Sabine echoed, suddenly unsure where to go with the conversation. She’d prepared this in her head with him being freaked out, not with him just as eager to get this talked over as she was.

“I don’t think pretending it didn’t happen is working,” he said, after a long pause.

“Brilliant observation, genius. What could possibly have clued you in?” she asked, defaulting to sarcasm before she could stop herself.

Ezra took it with a grin. “I think it was the time you were so concentrated on not looking at me that you walked into a door.”

She… had no idea where to go with that. Because he was right. She’d walked into a door because of him and his stupid pretty eyes. (Not that he knew about the stupid pretty eyes part.)

Ezra flipped down one of the seats, and gestured for her to sit across from him. She did, and he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“Remember how I said you were the best friend I could ever have asked for?” he asked.

“I think your exact words were coolest friend.”

“Best friend, coolest friend… either way.” Ezra seemed to gather himself, then spoke quickly. “Kissing is not something the average person does with their best coolest friend.”

Sabine startled so hard she almost fell out of her seat. “Okay, when I said we needed to talk about it, I didn’t mean so—bluntly—”

He held up his hands and gave her a pleading look. “Just hear me out?”

“…fine. Whatever.”

“Pretending we didn’t kiss is just going to kriff up everything.”

Sabine cleared her throat, feeling red creep up her cheeks. “Can we just… not say…  the, uh… ‘k-word’?”

“Sure. Pretending we didn’t kiss is just going to mess up everything.”

“That wasn’t the k-word I was—”

Sabine stopped as she saw the smile on his face.

He was joking.

But... oh, karabast, that smile.

Her heart started rattling a rapid beat in her chest and she was suddenly short on breath.

She stood up quickly, which did not help with either of those problems. “I need my helmet for this discussion.”

[itsjusthockey]

When The Partys Over Pt. 2 - Jack Hughes

Here it is, my heart and soul. Enjoy.

wc:4,466 (credit to gif maker)(don't steal my work)

Content Warning: Swearing, major angst

Part 1 (read first)

Unpublished For Fun First Draft

But nothin' is better sometimes

Once we've both said our goodbyes

When the words fall from your lips, and the sentence registers in his brain, it smacks Jack harder than any hockey hit ever has, and even though you’re the one who’s wasted, he suddenly feels like he wants to pass out.

Instead, he pauses by the door, his entire body freezing, trying to register if he heard you correctly or if being around you just makes him crazy. For what feels like a century, he concentrates on his breathing skills, taking a shaky breath in and letting it go, hoping the extra oxygen will help his brain makes sense of what you’ve thrown at him. He knows you’re drunk, incredibly so, and you probably have no idea what you're saying.

He breaks his focus when he hears slight shuffling behind him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he slowly turns to face you. When his eyes land on your figure, you’re sitting up in his bed, his sheets pooling around your waist. You’re not looking at him for a moment, instead staring out his window, watching the world outside intently, but as if you feel his stare, you tear your eyes away from Jersey and allow your eyes to meet his. You blink slowly, once, twice, and a tear falls from your left eye.

“You fucked me up there for a while.”

You finish the sentence with a forced laugh, and you quickly wipe another tear away, almost seeming embarrassed. Jack feels his face flush, and his heart begins to pound. He can practically hear the thumping in his ears, and his stomach flips in circles. He can’t swallow; the lump forming tight in his throat won’t let him, and even worse, his hands start shaking. His heart is cracking, breaking into a million tiny pieces, and his body is letting him know.

The weight of your words stills time, and he feels like you’re both trapped in the suspended gravity of the moment. Your confession, clearly vulnerable and raw, reverberates through his entire being, continuing to tear him apart bit by bit.

Among the uncomfortable silence, the room grows smaller, almost suffocating, as Jack tries to find his voice. He wants to comfort you, hold you, reach out and understand why you feel this way and why he is the reason why. It’s only been seconds, but he’s trying to play out the entire last year, pinpoint the exact moment where he could have fucked up so badly to make you feel the way you do.

“Wha-what did I do?” His voice is small, almost pleading, as he asks.

You let out a shallow breath, and Jack can almost see the wheels turning inside your head. He has no idea what you’re about to say, and everything that has come out of your mouth is a whiplash, so he can’t even begin to guess.

Your eyes flicker with a mix of emotions—regret, longing, and a hint of resignation—as Jack watches you search for the right words to explain what you’re feeling. It’s as if you're carefully selecting each syllable, fully aware of the impact they will have on him, and you’re scared he’ll break.

“You didn't do anything wrong, Jack," you finally say, your voice soft but laced slightly with bittersweet sadness. "At least not intentionally, and not something you had any control over. My feeling are my own, and I can’t blame you for them.”

Your words hang heavy in the air, and Jack's heart tightens impossibly further as he tries to decipher their meaning. The knots in his stomach tighten with each passing second, and a mixture of anxiety, dread, and anticipation fills the room.

“Do you remember when we met?” You ask, your voice timid.

Jack's mind races, searching through the corridors of memories, until he finds the moment you're referring to—the night that he finally felt a spark of something real, which laid the foundation for the relationship. He nods slowly, his eyes locked with yours, urging you to continue.

An almost wistful smile crosses your lips, and Jack can almost hear the nostalgia coloring your voice. "The crowded bar, the 2000s club music blaring, that stupid fucking costume you were wearing, and it wasn’t even Halloween.”

As you speak, Jack's gaze softens, and the memory floods back as if it was yesterday—your infectious laughter when he’d made a stupid joke as he bought you a drink, the way your eyes sparkled with excitement when he told you he hated mushrooms too, and the genuine connection that bloomed from one single night.

“I think a part of me fell in love with you right away,” you continue, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "In the midst of the chaos, it seemed like we both understood who the person was beneath the facade we put on for the crowd.”

Jack comprehends the weight of your words, realizing that maybe, just maybe, It wasn't just one moment that "fucked you up," but rather a million things he never noticed right away.

“Jack?” You break him out of his headspace, patting the bed beside you. “You’re making this a million times worse just standing by the door looking like I’m killing you. “

Jack realizes he probably hasn’t moved an inch since you started speaking. So he swallows hard, takes a few hesitant steps toward the bed, and sits down. When he settles, you turn to face him and continue.

“It was my fault for getting attached to you so quickly," you sigh. “I think I knew it was too good to be true, and sex was all we would have. But I’d hoped that you were different from the way you looked at me; I’d hoped we’d fight against it, and somehow we’d end up together. “

Before he even knows what’s happening, his own tears are streaming down his face. He thought earlier, when he saw you cry, that nothing would hurt him more, but even though he thinks he’s going to die a lot when he’s with you, this might actually kill him.

A profound ache settles in his chest, intertwining with the shards of his own shattered heart. Your vulnerability cuts through the room, leaving him exposed and raw with emotions he didn’t even know he had. What makes everything worse? When you pause, noticing his tears, you grab his hand and intertwine your fingers through his.

“Anyway, after a while, I got really tired. Like all of a sudden, I was drained of everything I had. I was sick of trying to force something that just wasn't there. And after some major soul-searching and my friends helping me, it clicked. I had to remove my love for you. Tell myself that even though I thought you were everything, you weren’t. So I decided I needed to be done.”

Jack hangs on to every word.

“So I moved on, even though I kinda suck at it because look where I am. But I decided to finally try to allow my heart to let go, close this chapter of my life and start a new one.”

Jack's heart sinks as he listens to your painful admission. The grip of your intertwined fingers provides a fragile lifeline, a small, tenuous connection that somehow manages to offer a glimmer of comfort amidst his shattering soul.

Tears continue to flow out of both your eyes, intermingling with the unspoken words that Jack is trying so hard to find a way to say.

He knows beneath his own heartache; there is a sliver of understanding. He knows that sometimes, moving on is the only choice, even if it feels impossible. But he also knows that he loves you now, somehow even more than anything in the world, and he doesn’t know if he can live without you.

As silence stretches between you, Jack knows time is ticking, and he finally musters the strength to respond.

“I love you,” he whispers, admitting it openly to you for the first time. “I can't pretend that I don’t and that I can just walk away because, for that past half a year, you’ve been all I’ve been able to think about.“

His heart races in his chest, pounding with the force of his love for you. His voice quivers as he continues, desperate to convey the depth of his feelings for you.

“I am so sorry (Y/N), so fucking sorry that I didn’t see how you felt at the beginning. My life was a fucking mess. I hated hockey, I hated living here, and I hated myself. I only cared about a quick high to distract myself from my constant lows, and I couldn’t see anything past that, and I’m so so sorry.”

Jack tightens his grip on your hand, trying to bridge the distance that separates you. His eyes search yours, looking for signs of forgiveness and any chance he has for a future with you.

“You’re everything to me, and I’ve been trying to show you that, but clearly, we both just fucking suck at communication and feelings. But I want this (Y/N); I want you. More than anything.”

Tears are streaming heavily down both your faces, and Jack watches as you wipe them away with your free hand, gently sniffling. You’re both waiting, unsure of what to do next when you speak again.

“Well, this is not how I expected the night to go.” You try to joke, Jack letting out a small snort.

“I know, a lot of information just came to light.”

Jack glances at the clock and sees that it’s incredibly late, and when he peers outside his window, he sees that the city of Jersey is dead asleep, completely unaware of the mess unfolding in two of its inhabitants' lives.

“We should go to sleep, think about things.” Jack offers.

For the first time ever, when he’s offered you to stay, you do. You nod in agreement, wipe away the remnants of tears from your cheeks, and give a small, tired, and maybe still a little drunk smile. Both of you are emotionally drained, and the idea of sleep seems like paradise.

Jack helps you slide under the covers, tucking you in with gentle care for the second time tonight, but this time he feels an odd sense of clarity in understanding of you. He gets you settled, grabbing more water and anything else you could ever need before he moves to leave the room.

“You can stay, Jack; your couch sucks.”

Before he can stop himself, a laugh escapes him, and he steps back into the room. He isn’t sure if sleeping next to you is the best idea for his sake, but he also knows it would take a swat team to remove him now. Grabbing a few other things, he moves to the other side of the bed and settles in beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you for the moment.

His heart about stops, however, when your hands find his again as if you’re seeking comfort in the touch that connects you.

Jack's eyes grow heavy, and he’s fighting off the sleep demons when you take your hand out from his. For a moment, he feels a pang of loss when you pull away. But as if you’re trying to repair his broken heart, you gently shift closer to him. Jack wraps his arm around you instinctively, pulling you to his chest until your bodies are molded together, fitting perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle.

Jack has never felt more complete as he gently traces circles on your back, his touch soothing on your skin, healing the ache in his heart.

As the minutes tick past, Jack can beat your breathing steady out, and he presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection for himself. He quickly feels himself falling away with the warmth of your body pressed against his and the immense amount of love that he has for you.

——————————————————-

When morning sunlight seeps through the curtains and almost blinds Jack, he awakens from the best sleep he’s ever had. His eyes peel open, and the events of last night flood his mind. He quickly turns, expecting to see you still by his side. But as reality sets in, his heart sinks when he realizes you're no longer there.

He sits up, his mind foggy with sleep, and rubs his eyes, desperately trying to shake off the sleepiness. He glances around the room and looks in the bathroom, searching for any sign of you, and that's when he notices a faint sound coming from the kitchen.

Curiosity tugs at him as he makes his way towards the kitchen, his unease ending as he finds you standing with your hands on your hips in front of his coffee maker. You’re still clad in his clothes, and you look so goddamn adorable; he wishes he could stay right here forever.

“Hey, morning, uh—,” you clear your throat, gesturing to the coffee pot. “Want some?”

Jack smiles and nods as you grab two cups. Seconds later, you place a steaming brew on one side of his table, and he sits behind it. He gives you a thank you as you fill your own cup, moving to sit down across from him.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and there's a hint of uncertainty in your eyes that cuts through him like a knife. He grows even more anxious when you take a deep breath and set your cup on the counter.

“I had a little time to think this morning,” you say softly. "I needed to think about the mess last night, which I’m really sorry about, by the way. I shouldn’t have blindsided you like that, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m glad I did because we’ve needed to talk for a while, and I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. But now is the time, and we can end this here.”

End this?

You take another deep breath. "Last night...everything we said, it made me realize that I don't think you love me, Jack. I think you love an idea of what we could be rather than what we are.”

“No,” he protests softly, "I don’t know what you mean.”

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shake your head. "I think you need to understand what I do, Jack. We aren’t meant to be. If we were, we would’ve. I loved you once, Jack, with everything I had. But it's gone now, and I don't think it can come back without killing me. I can't keep holding onto something that isn’t there.”

“What about last night?” He chokes out. “You didn’t feel that?

There's a painful silence between you, filled. Jack can feel his world crumbling around him after it felt whole for the first time last night.

“I'm sorry, Jack," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "This past year, we’ve had some great nights, but I can’t keep doing this to myself. We aren’t good for each other, and I think you know that too.”

You grab his hand once more, giving it a quick squeeze. As you both sit there, hands entwined and hearts heavy, realization washes over Jack. You don’t feel the same as you did once, but it’s gone now. You’ve moved on, and he’s holding you here.

Jack has never experienced true heartbreak, but he guesses this is it because it feels like a thousand knives are piercing his soul, and numbness spreads through his body.

You both sit in silence for a while, lost in your own thoughts and emotions, when you finally break the silence.

“I want you to know that I genuinely care about you, and I always will.“ You manage a weak smile before getting up.

“I should go.” You say, moving to gather the few things you had with you the night before.

Jack wordlessly watches as you leave him, his body staying trapped in this seat. He waits, and a few minutes later, you come out dressed in the clothes you’d had on the night before. He watches as you pick up your heels, grab your phone, and cross the room once more to where he’s sitting.

You pause in front of him, your eyes searching his for a moment before you lean down and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It's a bittersweet kiss, filled with heartbreaking emotions and the weight of what could have been.

With that, you offer him one last small smile, straightening up and turning away from him. You walk towards the door and open it, turning around one last time.

“Goodbye, Jack.”

The sentence is final, and a hollow feeling settles in his chest as the door shuts quietly behind you, signaling your last goodbye.

Let's just let it go

Jack is distracted, and it’s all your fault. Well, it is, but it isn’t. He shouldn’t blame you; he knows that’s not the mature thing to do. But he is a simple man, and it’s easier to say his game is off because of someone else rather than owning up to the fact that he’s struggling.

For the past two days, he can't focus on anything else but you during hockey practice. Every move he makes feels robotic as if he's going through the motions without actual purpose. He misses easy passes, shoots wide on every attempted goal, and falls on his ass at each free skate. Every time he finally gets in the right frame of mind, his thoughts drift back to you, and the cycle begins all over again.

It’s about an hour into morning practice when Jack feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see Luke, looking at him with concern and a hint of annoyance.

“You okay?" Luke asks, “You seem a little…off.”

Jack has two options, play it cool, or get defensive. He chooses option two.

“Fuck off, just had a rough couple days.”

Luke rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push.

“Whatever you say.”

Jack lets out an annoyed huff as it’s his turn to drill, skating away from Luke and running through the play. He makes it most of the way through with ease, but when it’s time for him to shoot, it hits the boards about ten feet from where he aimed.

Frustration wells up inside as he watches the puck slide to a halt. He’s been playing terribly. His brother knows it, his team knows it, and now he does, and it's eating him alive. Jack mutters out a few under his breath and skates back to the line.

Luke, ever observant and fed up, skates back to Jack with new determination.

“So I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but snap out of it. You're better than this."

It’s tough love, and Jack's jaw tenses, his pride wounded a bit. He doesn't want to admit that a girl is causing his downfall, that your absence has left a void in his heart and made him suck at hockey.

“I’m fine,” Jack finally mutters, "I just... I have to figure things out.”

Luke claps him on the back hard and nods. “Good, just let it go.”

Just let it go.

Let me let you go

As if you dropped from the face of the earth, Jack hasn’t seen you. Not that he’s been looking. He hasn’t seen you at the bagel place, not at the bar, not at the library on your campus that he may have snuck into. You’re absolutely nowhere to be found.

He thinks you’re avoiding him, or maybe you just don’t care and forget he even existed.

Jack has no idea you’re in your own hell, going back and forth every day, debating if ending things was the right decision. You know it was, but it still hurts. You don’t check Instagram, you don’t watch hockey, and you stay away from all things that have to do with the boy you once loved.

Jack has no idea that you feel the heartbreak the same as him, and he has no idea that you watched him walk into the bagel place, head down, looking just as dejected as you.

He has no idea that you suddenly told your friend you weren't hungry or that you went home and cried again because even though you’re healing, you’re moving on, you still think about all the things that happened and all the things that could have been.

Jack has no idea it was just as hard for you to walk out the door, and that letting him go hurts like hell.

Quiet when I'm comin' home, and I'm on my own

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

*two months later*

Two months have passed since you walked out of Jacks's life, and every minute he thought it’d get easier, it hasn’t.

But, as his mom, dad, and brothers have been telling him ever since he spilled the reason why he’s been a complete and utter mess, he has to move on with his life.

So, slowly but surely, he regained his focus and got back to his regular routine. He drowned his thoughts in the rink, and hockey, once again, became his refuge. Providing him with a sense of purpose and a distraction from the pain that weighs on his heart daily.

He still thinks about you every day, though. Thinks about the good memories and our bad, the inside jokes from the late nights, and all the what-ifs.

He wishes he could move on, he really does, but you invade his mind when he least expects it. He could be doing anything, and suddenly he’s daydreaming about you. But finally, he’s learning to keep those thoughts at bay, push them aside and bury them deep when they try to surface.

He knows that suppressing his feeling is bad and that, eventually, it will all bubble to the surface. But it’s easier this way to pretend you don’t matter and try to move on.

One day, after a particularly grueling practice, Jack decides to treat Luke to his favorite bagel place he’s been avoiding. It’s been months since he’s seen you, and what are the odds of seeing you there?

Apparently, really fucking high.

As Jack and Luke enter the bagel place, the familiar smell makes him slightly ache; he tells Luke about his favorite things on the menu. It isn’t until they order, step back and wait that his heart skips a beat and then stands entirely still.

Jack hears you before he sees you, your perfect laugh echoing behind him, his heart melting as you hiccup a bit, continuing to have trouble breathing between chuckles.

His breath catches in his throat, and he doesn’t want to look, but he turns around anyway. There you are, sitting in your favorite corner table. You look a little bit different but still just as beautiful, and every bit the woman he is still hopelessly in love with.

He almost lets a smile cross his face when it’s wiped away before it can even form.

You’re not alone.

You’re sitting across from a guy whose face he can’t see. He’s clad in a tight black t-shirt that shows off his broad shoulders and a backward cap that Jack knows is your favorite way men wear their hats. You’re laughing again at something the guy says, leaning away from the table slightly and rolling your eyes. Even though you’re playing to look annoyed, he can see how your eyes light up with genuine amusement.

Jack feels a million things at once, primarily pain, and it’s coming from his chest. His heart, after repairing itself bit by bit for two long months, is being ripped open all over again.

He genuinely feels bile rise in his throat when Luke nudges him, "Hey, are you alright?"

Jack is utterly speechless, and he can’t even begin to compose himself as Luke follows his stare, his eyes landing on you.

They both watch as the guy at your table leans in closer, his hands finding yours and intertwining them with his own. Jack's stomach churns again as you smile, blush, and laugh again.

Jack has to fight to keep upright, and he knows he has to get the hell out of here. He can't bear to watch any longer, to witness the love of his life be happy with someone else while he’s still broken.

Not waiting for anything, Jack breaks for the door and out into the open air, trying to get more oxygen to his brain.

The next twenty minutes are a blur, and they make their way back to Jacks's apartment. He’s silent, replaying the vision of you with someone else over and over again. He’s hurting harder than he ever thought possible. He felt he was moving on, making progress, forgetting about you. But seeing you with someone else has reopened the wound he tried so hard to heal.

Sitting alone in his room, Jack knows now that pretending you don't matter and burying his feelings deep inside is only a temporary fix. The harsh truth is that he still loves you,

and It kills him that you’re finally moving on.

He should be happy, you’re happy, and when you love someone, that’s all you want. It is for them to be happy. You got what you wanted, a clean break from him, and you found a way to repair yourself from the damage that the relationship has caused you.

An hour later, Luke walks into the room, making sure he’s still there.

“Are you gonna make it?”

It’s a simple question with an extremely difficult answer. He knows deep down that he needs to let you go, focus on himself, and let you be happy without him.

He owes it to himself to try to heal, focus on other things, and hope that one day, you’ll just be someone he used to know.

But for now, he’ll settle for the heartbreak, let his heart mend at its own pace, and think about you. For a little while longer, you’ll be the girl he’s in love with. The girl who made him realizes love is real. The girl who taught him love is cruel. The girl he’s trying to move on from, and one day will, but for now, you’ll be the girl who means everything to him.

“Yeah Lukey, I’ll be okay.”

I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

[kerryweaverlesbian]

After being unbodied by a spell, Dean can't eat, sleep, drive, or feel much of anything at all unless he's given a ride in someone else's body. Until they can get the spell to put Dean back into his own body, he's in danger of fading out of reality entirely.

The scary part is, he's starting to like the idea.

I sing the body electric.

(Dean co-habits Castiel's body for a while and they are both Intense about it).

[laundrybiscuits]

(FINE I guess this is a series now. whatever.)

“He’s where,” says Steve. 

“Off to see the wizard, my dude.” Argyle passes him a pipe. Steve’s not really sure where it came from or when Argyle packed it, but he’s got manners, so he takes a hit and hands it off to Jonathan. 

“Murray,” elaborates Jonathan, on an exhale. “The…you know. Oh wow, I guess you’ve never met Murray either. That’s weird, right? I mean, you were there, you were just…”

“Babysitting, probably,” says Steve. “Wait, why is Eddie meeting this guy?”

Argyle gestures in a big loopy way. It reminds Steve a little bit of how Eddie waves his arms around. “Eddie’s on, like, a spiritual journey. A dream quest, but…real life. The realest.”

“Not spiritual like church,” adds Jonathan. “Like, gay spirit. Is that a thing? Shit, why doesn’t anyone know Murray.”

“I don’t know Murray either, man,” says Argyle. 

“Is…Murray a real person?” Steve asks. He doesn’t think it’s an unreasonable question.

“Yes! Jesus. He’s real, okay? Nancy knows Murray, we—yeah. Nancy knows him.” Jonathan looks kind of dour and depressed, but he always sort of looks like that. 

“How’s Nancy doing?” Steve doesn’t really want to know, but it seems like the polite thing to say. 

“We’re fine,” says Jonathan. 

“Okay,” says Steve, who hadn’t asked that at all.

“Everything’s fine,” Jonathan repeats. Argyle reaches over to pat Jonathan on the head, then takes the pipe from Jonathan’s hand. 

———

“Hm,” says Murray. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking behind all the facial hair and glasses. “Okay, I don’t usually do this, but…what the hell. Kiddo, you are way too young to be talking like that. Your life’s not over, and if you’re smart about it, it doesn’t have to be over any time soon.”

Murray sits back on the couch, kicking up his feet. There’s a hole in his left sock.

“You think happily ever after only looks like one thing? That’s the thought of a child. If you really want, you can make some kind of picket fence life for yourself, suburbs and all. But you’re a queer, so that means you don’t have to do that shit because nobody’s expecting you to anymore. You get to decide what matters to you.”

“I don’t know any way to be gay that’s not lonely as hell,” Eddie says. 

“That’s because you’re an idiot and an infant,” says Murray gently. 

“You don’t have a—a boyfriend.” It comes out a little too sharp and mean, but Eddie’s feeling cornered. 

Murray laughs. “Kid, what did I just say? I don’t want a damn boyfriend. Some guy coming over here all the time, eating my food? Hell no. We’re degenerate homos, we get to decide what to keep and what to shove down the god damn garbage disposal. I got some arrangements in place, and that’s the way I like it. The whole lovey-dovey romance shit isn’t for me.”

Eddie draws his legs up, wrapping his arms around his shins. His boots are probably leaving marks on the couch, but Murray can deal. “I think it…I think that is for me. I want that to be for me. Um. In general.”

Murray actually tilts his head down to give Eddie a scathing look over the top of his glasses. “No shit, Joan Jett. Your whole ooh please push past my defenses to prove you love me schtick is visible from space.”

“Fuck,” says Eddie, knocking his head against his knees. He closes his eyes, humiliated beyond words, feeling scooped-out and awful. 

“C’mon, it’s not that bad.” Eddie feels a tap on his arm, and when he looks up, Murray’s holding out a glass with about an inch of amber liquid in it. “We all go through something like that. It’s a rite of passage, just like it is to get so wasted you throw up on the stranger you dragged into a club bathroom. You’ll do that too. You’re gonna be messy and embarrassing anyway, so just enjoy the ride. And take the damn Talisker, it’ll help.”

Eddie takes the damn Talisker and knocks it back in one go, just to be an ass. Murray rolls his eyes but pours him another one.

“Ah, practical shit…” Murray scratches at his beard thoughtfully. “Been a while since I had to do this. Poppers are great, don’t overdo ‘em. Splurge on the fancy medical lube if you want but Vaseline or Crisco’ll do the trick just fine. And listen up, kitten, because you can ignore everything else that comes outta my mouth, but you can’t ignore this: always wrap it up. I mean always. I don’t care if he’s your soulmate, I don’t care if it kills the mood, I don’t care if he says he’s a blushing goddamn virgin. If he doesn’t want to wear a rubber, he doesn’t care if you live or die.”

Murray looks down at his own glass. For the first time, Eddie thinks he looks—tired. 

“I know there’s probably a big part of you that doesn’t care if you live or die, either. But you gotta remember there’s people who do. The kid who sent you to me. He doesn’t want to go to your funeral.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. It comes out too quiet; he swallows and tries again. “Yeah. I know. I’ve—been to funerals too.” 

Murray barks out a surprised laugh. “God, you have, haven’t you? Think I was almost thirty, my first time. I’m sorry, Joan Jett, this isn’t a great time to be young and gay. Go make friends with some dykes, they’ll keep you sane.” 

Eddie, who has held Robin’s hair back as she ralphed into a bucket after losing a Peeps-eating competition with Steve, has his doubts, but he just nods.

Murray looks at him for a moment, then takes his face between two big hands and kisses him on the forehead. It feels neither sexual nor familial, but something beyond all of the easy categories Eddie’s known. 

“Now piss off,” Murray says. “Don’t get some crazy idea that this means we’re friends, or that you can start coming around whenever you feel like it.”

“So, just Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other Sunday,” says Eddie, and ducks out before Murray can start cussing at him.

———

See, Eddie’s little crush on Steve is meant to be purely recreational. It’s fun to crush on unavailable guys he knows—way more fun than celebrities or whatever. It’s just nice, to feel his heart speed up a little when Steve’s around, safe in the certain knowledge that he’s never going to do a damn thing about it. It even feels good to hurt a little bit over it, achy and sharp, like pushing on a bruise. 

Yeah, Eddie knows he’s a little fucked up. But he figures this is harmless enough: a secret little vice that nobody’s ever going to know about.

Apparently, everybody knows. 

“Um,” says Jonathan, wide-eyed. “Was it…supposed to be a secret?”

“Yes,” hisses Eddie. “Because this is Hawkins, Indiana, and I don’t want to fucking die. Did we or did we not just have a conversation about the many and various perils this whole thing entails.”

“My dude, if you don’t want it to be, like, public knowledge, maybe don’t flirt with him so much?” 

“Betrayal!” Eddie gasps, staggering around like he’s been stabbed in the back, because he fucking has. “An unjust hit by Argyle the Assassin.”

“Argyle the Assistant,” says Argyle. “I’m assisting you, bro.”

“I don’t flirt with Steve!” Eddie screeches. “We’re friends! I flirt with you two dickwads more than I do with Steve, because I don’t flirt with Steve!” 

“You really do,” says Jonathan apologetically. “Kind of…a lot. Remember when we were out by the quarry, and you kept calling him princess.”

“As a joke!”

“Ohhh yeah,” says Argyle. “That was the day you, like…took his jacket, right?”

“I was cold!”

Jonathan grins. “Is that why you kept asking him how it looked on you?”

“As…a joke,” says Eddie, weakly. He’s starting to remember that it might’ve been even worse; the words do I look pretty in your clothes, Stevie may or may not have been uttered. 

“Hey, man, it’s no biggie. That was a million years ago and he didn’t say anything, so you’re free and clear. Totally righteous.” Argyle throws an arm around Eddie, who curls into him sulkily. Argyle’s tall and solid and kinda hot, so it’s a real shame Eddie can’t crush on him instead. 

Eddie sighs. “If Jonathan weren’t here, I’d ask you to make out with me until I felt better,” he says. 

“What,” says Jonathan. “You can’t—I mean, you can, and I, uh—support you? Should I leave?”

“Aw,” says Argyle, and ruffles Eddie’s hair. “That’s sweet, dude. If Jonathan weren’t here, I would.”

“What is happening,” says Jonathan. “I’m gonna—should I leave? I’m gonna leave.”

Eddie whines, “No, c’mon, stay, we’ll do that seance. That’ll make me feel better too. Maybe we can resurrect my deceased heterosexuality.” 

They don’t manage to raise any ghosts or any heterosexualities, but it does make Eddie feel a little better anyway.

[sugarcoated-lame]

This is Always A Bridesmaid Jake btw

gif by @oliviaisarodrigo 🧡

[hangmanbradshaw]

takes one to know one on ao3 (aka the rival popstars fic)

He decided to go for broke. “I could handle you.”

Jake’s eyes sparked. That smirk on his face grew. “My, my, Bradshaw. That a threat or a promise?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

He shrugged. “On what you want it to be.”

Or, rival popstars Jake & Bradley have been circling each other for years. Add in a supposed romance with star QB Javy Machado, a SNL appearance, PR, and Jake throwing down a challenge...and things get interesting.

[leavingautumn13]

I'll bite, would my url inspire? I'm not sure who in Fallout would have a mudkip or swampert, though.

it sure does inspire. sometimes it's nice to have company on watch.

y'think dinky is a good name for a mudkip, because i kinda do now