#conan gray packs

[trulydlipa]

[lexinzspiders]

𖥻🦈: conan gray moodboard ֺ ׅ✰̠

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[candyrubyyy]

tell all of your friends that I'm crazy and drive you mad...

🍓 conangray in instagram // packs

✧ please like or reblog if u save/use !!

[angearran]

◟˚ ⌒ 🍶 𓂅

[hellgifs]

↬ ⸻ 𝘾𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙉 𝙂𝙍𝘼𝙔, 1998 [ #245 GIFS ] from VARIOUS YOUTUBE VIDEOS / conan gray is white + japanese, please cast him appropriately ! all gifs were made by me from scratch ! do not repost as your own, include in other gif hunts, or redistribute them in any way ! give me a like or reblog if these helped you ! to access this free gif pack, visit the source link !

[ ! ] content warnings: none

[ ! ] suggestions are always welcome !

[hollow-dollie]

the quiet female manipulator starter pack except it's me

[queer-reader-07]

can't believe it's only wednesday

[cgarexvodca]

𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 🩷

[kirbyfigure]

☆ ○ 🧦 . ◯ 🍈 @baesol

[waitingroomchair]

BOUTTA PULL A WINNER OPENING LINE BRO THIS SHIT AINT FUNNY NO MORE 😭😭😭😭

[dolcejwnie]

WISH YOU WERE SOBER. N.RIKI

synopsis : the unfold of the lyrics of wish you were sober by conan gray .ᐟ

warning : presence of alcohol, drunk driving

genre : drunk af! niki x jealous reader, drunk kiss, drunk confession, 3154 words.ᐟ angst?

remember to reblog and like for more content!

the house was packed, heat and noise pressing in from all sides. you stood awkwardly by the snack table, clutching a drink you didn’t even like. the music was loud—too loud—and the energy in the room was chaotic. it wasn’t your scene, not by a long shot.

but you came. for him.

riki had invited you with his usual teasing grin, a playful “don’t get too bored without me, okay?” lingering in your mind. yet now, as you scanned the room, he seemed entirely absorbed in someone else.

your heart sank when you spotted him near the couch, leaning casually against the armrest. his ripped jeans and loose-fitting hoodie made him look effortlessly cool, even in a sea of overdressed partiers. but what really caught your attention was the girl next to him.

she was gorgeous in that confident, easy way—bright eyes and a perfect smile. she leaned into riki, laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm. and worse? he didn’t seem to mind.

you clenched your jaw as you watched him trade his half-full cup with hers, his laugh ringing out loud enough to carry over the music. he took a sip from her drink, giving her a cheeky grin as she teased him about it.

the sharp pang of jealousy hit you like a punch to the gut. you knew he was drunk—his slightly unsteady stance and overly relaxed smile gave it away—but it didn’t stop the ache spreading in your chest.

“you good?” a voice interrupted, and you glanced over to see jake raising a brow at your expression.

“yeah,” you lied, setting your drink down a little too hard.

you tried not to stare, but your gaze kept drifting back to riki. he was too charming for his own good, and he knew it. every time the girl laughed, every time she touched his arm, the knot in your stomach tightened.

you couldn’t stop watching him, noticing every little detail—the way he moved, the way he smiled, the way he laughed too loudly at his own jokes. he wasn’t himself tonight. he was nineteen, but the way he carried himself—confident, reckless, like the whole room revolved around him—made him seem so much older. like he’d stepped into a role he wasn’t ready to play.

you hated it.

he acted twenty-five now, like nothing mattered, like he had it all figured out. but you knew the truth. you’d seen the riki behind the bravado, the boy who told you his dreams in whispers and let his guard down when no one else was around. this version of him—cocky, careless—was just another mask.

and yet, it still hurt. because no matter how much you wanted to look away, a part of you couldn’t help but wish he’d act like the riki you knew when no one else was watching. the riki who saw you.

it wasn’t like you had a claim on him—you weren’t even sure what the two of you were. friends? something more? but seeing him like this, carefree and drunk, flirting without a second thought, made it hard to convince yourself it didn’t matter.

and then, as if he could feel your eyes on him, riki glanced your way. his grin faltered, just for a second, before he turned his attention back to the girl beside him.

your chest tightened, and you forced yourself to look away. this wasn’t the riki you knew—the one who laughed with you over stupid jokes and teased you about your favorite shows. this was someone else, someone you weren’t sure you liked.

you needed air. without another glance in his direction, you pushed through the crowd, heading for the stairs.

the noise of the party grew more distant as you slipped up the stairs, your chest tightening with every step. you didn’t know where you were going—just away. away from the thumping bass, the fake laughter, and, most of all, away from him.

the bathroom at the end of the hall was blissfully quiet. you closed the door behind you and let out a shaky breath, gripping the edge of the sink. the reflection staring back at you in the mirror was a mix of frustration and something rawer, harder to admit.

you didn’t belong here. this wasn’t your scene, and it never would be.

a quick glance at the small window above the sink sparked an idea. without hesitating, you unlocked it, pushed it open, and clambered out. the cool night air hit your face as you crouched on the slanted roof, the muffled sounds of the party still echoing behind you.

the roof was quiet, the cool breeze brushing against your face as you settled yourself on the sloped tiles. it felt good to be away from the stifling heat and noise of the party. the muffled bass thudded faintly below, but out here, under the open sky, it felt far less suffocating.

you stared up at the stars, trying to let the calm wash over you. but your thoughts wouldn’t stop circling back to him—his reckless laugh, the way he flirted with that girl, the way he’d grinned at you like none of it mattered.

lost in thought, you didn’t notice the sound of footsteps on the roof until a voice broke the silence.

“figured I’d find you up here.”

your head snapped around, and there he was—riki. he looked slightly breathless, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder, and his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, surprised and maybe a little annoyed.

“following you,” he said simply, sitting down beside you with a casual ease that felt at odds with the tension between you. “you left pretty fast.”

you gave him a sidelong glance. “yeah, well, i wasn’t having the time of my life.”

“same,” he admitted, leaning back on his hands. “but i didn’t realize it until you were gone.”

you scoffed, turning your gaze back to the stars. “didn’t seem like you were having a bad time. looked like you were having plenty of fun with her.”

he let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah… i guess it looked that way.”

you stayed silent, waiting for him to explain.

“it’s not like i even knew her,” he continued after a moment. “it’s just… at these things, it’s easy to fall into that, you know? everyone’s pretending to have fun, pretending to be someone they’re not. and tonight, i guess i pretended a little too hard.”

your chest tightened at his words, your earlier frustration melting into something softer. “why, though? why go through all that if it’s not who you are?”

he turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “because sometimes it’s easier to be what people expect. but then you—” he paused, his voice quieter now. “you remind me that i don’t have to.”

you blinked, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice. “riki…”

he smiled faintly, leaning back against the roof. “you’re the only one here who sees me for… me. and i guess i didn’t want to lose that tonight.”

for a moment, the only sound was the wind rustling the trees and the distant thrum of the party below.

“you’re different out here,” you said softly.

he tilted his head, a teasing grin breaking through the seriousness. “better, right?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “yeah, better.”

the roof felt like a different world, far removed from the noise and chaos of the party below. riki sat beside you, closer now, his arm brushing yours in a way that sent sparks through your skin. the cool night air couldn’t dampen the warmth that radiated between you.

for a while, you sat in silence, the stars twinkling faintly above. but the silence wasn’t empty. it was thick with unspoken words, emotions hanging in the air like a fragile thread that could snap at any moment.

riki shifted slightly, turning to look at you. His dark eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, were softer now—serious in a way that made your chest tighten. his lips parted, and for a moment, it looked like he might say something. but instead, he hesitated, letting the weight of his gaze speak instead.

you couldn’t look away.

the faint flush on his cheeks from the alcohol made him look younger, more vulnerable, and it clashed with the way he carried himself earlier in the night—careless, like nothing could touch him. now, though, the cracks in his bravado were showing, and all you could see was riki. the real riki.

“you’re different tonight,” you whispered, barely realizing you’d spoken aloud.

his lips curved into the faintest smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “so are you.”

you swallowed hard, your heart thudding painfully against your ribs. there were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you wanted to ask, but the words stuck in your throat. instead, you stood, brushing off your hands.

“we should go,” you murmured, not sure why you said it.

he blinked, momentarily surprised, but then he nodded. “yeah. let’s go.”

the walk to his car was quiet, but not uncomfortable. the cool night air wrapped around you, and you felt the buzz of energy beneath your skin, though you weren’t sure if it was from the party, the closeness of riki, or something else entirely.

when you reached his rover, he unlocked it and opened the passenger door for you with a small flourish. “your chariot awaits,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

you rolled your eyes but climbed in, the faint scent of him—mint, cedar, and something unnameable—enveloping you as you settled into the seat. he slid in beside you, the door slamming shut with a finality that made your breath hitch.

the roof had been an escape, but now the quiet hum of riki’s rover felt impossibly loud. the cool night air from the open window brushed against your face, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing in your chest.

riki sat in the driver’s seat beside you, leaning back against the headrest, his flushed cheeks illuminated by the faint glow of the dashboard. his hoodie hung off one shoulder, and his dark hair was slightly mussed, falling into his eyes in a way that was charming you into melting all the shreds of glass that this party stuck upon your heart.

he turned his head to look at you, his eyes glassy but still searching. “you okay?” he asked, his words slightly slurred but filled with concern.

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “i should be asking you that.”

he grinned, lopsided and boyish, the kind of grin that made your stomach flip even when you didn’t want it to. “i’m great. well…” he paused, his brow furrowing in mock thought. “i mean, I feel a little dizzy. but, like, in a good way, you know?”

“yeah,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your hands. “i know.”

he leaned closer, his breath warm and tinged with the faint, sweet smell of alcohol. “hey,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “you’re really pretty, you know that?”

your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, trying to play it off. “you’re drunk, riki.”

“so?” he shot back, his lips curving into another grin. “doesn’t make it less true.”

you bit your lip, your chest tightening. his cheeks were flushed a deep red now, and his dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and vulnerability that made it impossible to look away.

“come here,” he said suddenly, his voice soft and in a little warm breath.

your breath caught, and for a moment, you didn’t move. but something in his gaze—unguarded and raw—pulled you in. slowly, hesitantly, you leaned closer, the small space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat radiating off him.

his hand came up to your face, clumsy but gentle, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that sent shivers down your spine. his lips were parted, and his eyes flickered down to yours, his breath hitching like he wasn’t sure he should move closer.

but then he did.

the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he wasn’t sure you’d let him. his lips were warm, slightly chapped, and they tasted faintly of the drink he’d traded earlier—sweet and sharp, like the party still clung to him.

he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his other hand fumbling to rest on your knee. his touch was a little too firm, his movements a little too eager, and it was impossible to ignore how unsteady he was.

when he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven. “you’re amazing,” he murmured, his words slurring just enough to make your chest ache.

“riki…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“what?” he asked, his smile soft and boyish, like he didn’t know the damage he was doing. “i mean it. you’re—” He hiccupped, blinking in surprise before letting out a sheepish laugh. “okay, maybe i’ve had a little too much.”

you pulled back slightly, searching his face. his cheeks were still flushed, his lips red and swollen from the kiss, and his eyes—bright and unfocused—were locked on you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“i wish you were sober,” you said softly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

his smile faltered, and for a moment, he looked like a confused little boy. “why?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost afraid.

“because then i’d know this was real,” you admitted, your chest tightening as the truth spilled out.

“it is real,” he said quickly, his hand squeezing yours like he was trying to prove it. “i swear, it is. i—i just…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words. “i just feel braver, i guess. like i can finally say it.”

you blinked back the sting in your eyes, shaking your head. “but it shouldn’t take that, riki. you shouldn’t need a drink to tell me how you feel.”

his expression crumpled, and for the first time that night, he looked genuinely upset. “i’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “i didn’t mean to mess this up.”

“you didn’t,” you said quickly, though your heart was breaking. “i just… i need you to mean it when you say it. and right now, i don’t know if you do.”

the silence that followed was deafening, and the weight of it pressed down on you like a physical thing. riki’s hand slipped from yours, falling to his lap as he stared down at the space between you.

“i do,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “i just don’t know how to make you believe me.”

your heart ached at the sincerity in his voice, but it didn’t change the way you felt. because no matter how much you wanted to believe him, you couldn’t ignore the doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.

and as the night stretched on, the only thing you could think was how much you wished he was sober.

the drive to your house was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but full of unspoken emotions. the faint hum of the engine blended with the distant echo of your heartache. riki kept glancing at you, his gaze lingering a little too long before flickering back to the road. his flushed cheeks had faded slightly, but the soft haze of alcohol was still evident in his glassy eyes.

you wanted to say something, to fill the silence with words that might make sense of everything swirling between you. but every time you opened your mouth, the words caught in your throat.

finally, he pulled up outside your house, the gravel crunching under the tires. the faint glow of the porch light illuminated the quiet street, casting long shadows across the car.

riki killed the engine and turned to you, his hands gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him steady. his eyes, dark and earnest, searched yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze like it was a physical thing.

“we’re here,” he said softly, his voice low, rough and almost hesitant, as though he didn’t want the night to end.

you nodded, reaching for the door handle. but before you could open it, his hand shot out, gently catching your wrist.

“wait,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

you froze, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you turned to face him.

“i… i know i messed up tonight,” he started, his words stumbling over each other. “but i don’t want this to be it. i don’t want you to leave thinking i don’t care, because i do. more than i know how to say.”

your breath caught, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. his cheeks were flushed a deep red now, and his dark eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

“riki,” you began, but he shook his head, cutting you off.

“just… let me walk you to the door,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

you hesitated, but eventually, you nodded. “okay.”

the two of you climbed out of the rover, the cool night air biting at your skin as you walked up the familiar path to your front door. the world was quiet, the distant hum of the party a faint memory.

when you reached the porch, you turned to face him, your heart aching at the way he looked at you. he was trying so hard to hold himself together, but you could see the cracks in his façade—the vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

“thanks for walking me,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. “yeah… of course.”

for a moment, you both just stood there, the silence stretching between you. then, before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

but riki, being riki, wasn’t content with just that. before you could pull away, he turned his head, catching your lips with his.

the kiss was different this time. it wasn’t clumsy or hurried—it was slow, deliberate, and laced with all the things he couldn’t say. his hands found your waist, pulling you closer as though he was afraid to let you go.

for a moment, you let yourself sink into it. his lips were warm, and the faint taste of alcohol was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp this time. it was softer, almost bittersweet, like the lingering notes of a song you didn’t want to end.

[lexinzspiders]

𖥻🦈: conan gray moodboard ֺ ׅ✰̠

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[ethereacals]

MANIAC

the one where you don't go back to the boys.

part two of the conan gray series

“i wish i were heather” out now!

synopsis: after getting cheated on by your previously expected soulmates, a change in perspective occurs and you find yourself falling for a different set of three.

warnings: foul language, slander on the marauders, sexual innuendos, mentions of smoking, a small taylor

"PEOPLE LIKE YOU ALWAYS WANT BACK WHAT THEY CAN'T HAVE."

Leaving Hogwarts early for Christmas this year was not something anyone could've forshadowed.

You, the girl who spent most of her time studying for her upcoming OWLS in November, had disappeared without a trace.

Of course most of your close friends knew where you were, and some not so close friends did aswell.

"She can't just run away from her problems." Said Sirius, his leg bouncing anxiously from the news Regulus had just sprung onto them.

"Sirius, It'll be fine, okay? When they get back to school, we can formally apologize and move on, right?" Remus attempted to reassure Sirius, but he in reality he felt quite crestfallen.

Lily sat quietly, already regretting her decision to do this with them.

In her head, she knew they had every intention to not cheat and solve things the right way— but she hadn’t helped.

It all started one night at a loud and ear-shattering Gryffindor victory party after a successful win for their Quidditch team.

She got drunk, and they were completely wasted.

And you weren’t there.

So their drunken minds believed it would be a missed opportunity if they didn’t take their chance with Gryffindors golden girl.

Lily knew she should’ve said no, she should’ve gone back to her dorm and hid from them for the rest of eternity.

But fate clearly had other plans.

And after secrets, longing stares, and lingering touches that the truth finally came to light.

and it was all at your expense.

“So— When will our Reggie be joining us, Meadowes?” Evan slurred, his voice carrying a heavily intoxicated tone.

“Soon enough, he’s got one more OWL to complete and then he’s on his way.” Dorcas mused as she gently pet the head of her tipsy sleepy Gryffindor girlfriends head as she babbled on about Quidditch.

Evan nodded drunkenly— before taking another swig.

Dorcas seemed so peaceful with Marlene— who had surprisingly accepted her invitation to spend Christmas with the Slytherins, though Marlene truly wasn’t prejudice against them like others were.

They seemed so… in love.

You had love once.

Remember?

They’re gone.

Remember?

They’re gone.

“I— I had love… once—“ You hiccuped sadly, beginning to sob for the umpteenth time this evening.

You were extremely drunk, who could really blame you?

“Aww… Treasure…” Barty (who surprisingly was very sober) cooed, encapsulating you in a bear hug as you cried into his chest.

“How many more times is she going to do that?” Asked Peter, who— by the way: lied to his friends and said he was going home for Christmas.

He was only visiting for the night, as he was currently visiting his girlfriend— Sybil Trelawney who lived in town.

“Who knows, Pete. Who knows..” Evan slung his arm around him.

“This should be the last time before she realizes that she doesn’t need them, that’s what the sprites are telling me.” Pandora smiled, petting your hair gently in comfort.

“Pettigrew, you should turn back to your rat-pack and tell them they’re trash.”

You spat, in broken sighs.

Obviously, Peter felt a bit of offense to the rat slander but alas— they weren’t aware of his rat-secret.

Quite a shame.

“Sure thing, L/N.”

'FEELS LIKE WE HAD MATCHING WOUNDS BUT MINES STILL BLACK AND BRUISED.'

on December 19th, Regulus had finally arrived at Barty's flat he'd rented for the holidays.

Marlene, Dorcas, and Peter had their departure just the day before, leaving just you, Pandora, Evan, Barty, and Regulus.

Pandora had just wished you all goodnights and dream blessings before nodding off to your shared room for your stay.

"So, anyone up for some firewhiskey?" Offered Evan, who held a giant bottle of the substance.

"Just a small bit, Rosie." Barty accepted his offer graciously.

"Need anything, amour?" Regulus mused in your ear, by far he was the most comforting one. As the other two just distracted you with their own twisted ways of thinking and chaos.

"I'm alright, Reggie. Thank you." You nodded politely, you had felt incredibly off this break.

Though they all weren't stupid, they knew why you were acting strange.

Every year since third year; You and the boys would leave Hogwarts and spend Christmas with the Potters.

Snowball fights, roaring fires, Effie's hot cocoa, the memories echoed through your brain like they were music blasting from your headphones.

Every time you closed your eyes to sleep, you would see endless slideshows of everything you had ever done with them.

The nights of passion, the hugs, the pre and post-quidditch game good luck and good job kisses, the play fights, the happiness.

Your life was black and white before you met them, they brought the color.

But they showed you colors they knew you couldn't see with anyone else.

Well, besides your 'best' friends.

Were you really just that? Just friends?

You were a year younger than the Marauders, same year as Regulus.

and Sirius would be so pissed off if he found out that you were sleeping with his brother-

...

Wait.

Who gives a fuck about Sirius?

Who cares what intelligent insult will come out of Remus' mouth?

And James, he liked Regulus once.

They'd hate you.

But,

Maybe you wanted them too.

So, you ended up taking a few shots of firewhiskey.

Okay,

More than a few.

"Um- actually, Reggie. I- I do need something." You slurred, holding onto your sober ex-boyfriends brother best friends nimble shoulders like he was your lifeline.

"Yes, amour?"

"I want a kiss."

Evan spat out his drink back into his cup, and Regulus' face heated up significantly.

"I'll give you a kiss..." Barty clambered over his boyfriends as his cold, veiny hands meet your waist.

His hands skim your body up and down, before pecking your lips softly, as if he was asking for acceptance.

"Can I kiss you?" Barty spoke so softly, he may have been chaotic and insane- but he was extremely cautious and respectable with things like this.

"I-I wanna taste you so bad.." Evan cooed at Barty's sweet words, as he held an extremely flustered Regulus in his arms, watching the scene in front of him unfold.

"Barty- please, kiss me." You mewled, barely finishing your sentence as he dived into your lips.

His lips surprisingly tasted like cherry chapstick, even though he had just been chugging firewhiskey.

After feeling like an eternity, Barty broke your kiss.

"I've wanted to do that since fourth year." He mumbled drunkenly, gazing up stupidly and lovingly at your blush-kissed face.

His kisses were heavenly, and so were Evan's, and Regulus'.

And needless to say, you didn't return back to Pandora that night.

'YOU'RE POINTING AT THE STARS IN THE SKY THAT ALREADY DIED.'

The return to Hogwarts was an awkward one at that.

But returning back to Hogwarts feeling happier than ever with your boyfriends? That was the best return you could make.

Hand in hand with Barty, you strutted into the Great Hall.

Evan and Regulus trailed behind, as you rambled on and on to Barty about something.

James stared your direction, and you unfortunately met his gaze.

He wasn't dense, he could see how your bright smile seemed to dim.

He smiled, softly.

James knew that they'd never get you back the way they had you.

He should've realized that you were the light of their lives.

Everyone should've woken up to see you.

They hurt you.

And this was their price.

They had to watch you thrive, with three other men.

Who would treat you like a goddess, something they never sought time for.

taglist; @hisparentsgallerryy @cultish-corner @asexualbuthorny @prettylittlewrites @champomiel @hellothere7 @anakinsluvrr @lady-balem @awkwardalie @nosteponduck @eeviee4 @dreamygirli3 @navs-bhat @angemyrtille @mrssslangdon @siillly @makanirock05 @hcqwxrtss123 @wolfyychan @nislame @lalalandincraz @rorywright @ih3artpjo @st4r-girl-official @pain-in-the-ashe

[sherrysgirl]

heather

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

getting spencer’s sweaters is great, but seeing spencer give his sweater to someone else isn’t.

cw : jealous slightly insecure reader, reader isn’t ashley seaver’s biggest fan…

word count : 544

note : if there was an award for dropping short drabbles you’ve written in the span of twenty minutes but don’t even like, i’d be the winner. i didn’t proofread this and english isn’t my first language but enjoyyyy maybe??? happy belated third of december btw!! did anyone celebrate????

you loved the jet. it was spacious, the seats and the couch were comfortable, the little coffee / tea corner had expensive delicious coffee you definitely couldn’t afford on your own. everything about the jet was perfect except for the fact that you always got cold.

spencer always noticed that. it would take you approximately ten minutes until you started to shiver lightly. he didn’t understand why you never just wore an extra layer when you were quite literally freezing. he’d asked you about it plenty of times but you always dismissed him. a casual “it’s fine. i’m not that cold” would escape your lips. so instead of going back and forth with you, he secretly started packing an extra sweater of his for you. it’s not like you could ever say no to him. and that’s how during almost every jet trip, he’d offer you a sweater whenever you started feeling cold.

well, that was until ashley’s arrival…

she was amazing, beautiful, smart, young and so much more. truly a sight for sore eyes, you thought.

ashley was a sweetheart. everyone in the team adored her. even jj, who wasn’t even part of the team anymore, loved her. so, you were beyond confused on why you couldn’t warm up to her yet. maybe it’s because she’s somehow supposed to replace jj? or maybe because she’s landed a permanent job at the bau right after her graduation? you didn’t know.

but then it clicked.

you sat across from spencer on the jet, right next to emily. the second she had seen you at the bullpen she insisted that you sit next to each other on the jet as she had pictures she wanted to show you. jj had sent her adorable pictures of henry during their vacation. both you and emily had stared at the screen in complete awe, noting that after this case, you’d definitely have to visit jj and her son.

engrossed in your conversation with emily, you almost didn’t notice ashley walking by and sitting next to spencer. you tried your best faking a smile at her. the blonde started talking to spencer about whatnot. just the mere sight of her and the man you’ve loved for so long talking was enough to get your brain to shut down.

you excused yourself and got up to get a cup of coffee. and that’s when you saw it.

“is it always this cold in here?”, ashley asked with a giggle.

rhetorical question, of course.

spencer rummaged through his satchel, “oh! i have an extra sweater, if you’d like.”

she gladly accepted the sweater and thanked him.

you turned around, your eyes focusing on the drink you were making. you take a few sips once it’s done, trying to ignore that whole interaction you just witnessed.

“looks like you’re not the only one getting sweaters from pretty boy anymore.”, derek pointed out in a mere cocky whisper as he passed by you.

you rolled your eyes at him in an attempt to look unbothered, but you were bothered. you were so insanely bothered, you could’ve lost your mind.

he packed that sweater for you, but he gave it to her.

now you know why you hated her.

[isaadore]

MEMORIES JACK HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing jack hughes x reader

SUMMARY three months after your breakup, a late-night call leads you back to jack’s doorstep. old wounds reopen when he finally asks the question he never did before: why? the love is still there, but so is the pain. when you walk away for the last time, he doesn’t stop you. some memories refuse to fade, and jack will always be the one you can never forget. inspired by “memories” by conan gray. word count 1.1k

warning heavy angst, unresolved feelings, longing, mentions of alcohol, no happy ending, cussing

note i felt mean today

JH86 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

THE LAST THING you expected was for him to answer.

Not because he didn’t have every right to ignore your call. He did. But because it was late, and three months had passed without a word between you. And yet, before you could second-guess yourself, before you could even consider hanging up, his voice crackled through the speaker.

“…Hello?”

It was quiet, hesitant, as if he didn’t believe it was really you.

Your breath caught.

You should have said something. Told him this was a mistake, that you didn’t mean to dial his number, that you hadn’t had one too many glasses of wine and ended up outside his apartment building, staring up at the window you used to call home.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you exhaled softly, barely above a whisper.

“Hey, Jack.”

Silence.

And then, a sharp breath.

“Where are you?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your phone. The truth sat heavy in your chest, pressing against your ribs, but saying it out loud felt like stepping onto a ledge you couldn’t come back from.

Still, you forced yourself to answer.

“I’m outside.”

The line went dead.

Your stomach twisted. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe he wouldn’t even let you up. You should have left before you made this worse, before you made a fool of yourself for the guy who had every reason to hate you.

But then, before you could turn away, the lobby buzzer rang.

You stared at it, heart pounding.

He had just let you in.

And you didn’t know if that made this better or so much worse.

The apartment looked the same.

It shouldn’t have. You expected something to be different, maybe new furniture or at the very least, the absence of all the little things you left behind. But they were still there. The blanket you always curled up in, still thrown over the couch. The candle you bought last fall burned halfway. The framed photo of the two of you that used to sit in the hallway, gone, but its outline lingered against the wall.

Jack stood across the room, hands shoved in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

“You look good.” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

You bit your lip, nodding. “Okay.”

More silence.

He exhaled sharply. “Why are you here?”

It was a fair question. One you didn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t know.”

Jack laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Right.”

You swallowed hard, shifting on your feet. “I just…” You trailed off, glancing around the apartment again. “I thought I’d be okay.”

Jack’s eyes darkened. “And you’re not?”

Your throat tightened.

You wanted to lie. Tell him you were fine, that you’d moved on, that this wasn’t some pathetic attempt to hold on to something that was already gone.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Because standing there, with him looking at you like you still meant something, like you still held a place in his life even after everything…

You realized you didn’t know how to live in a world where he was just a memory.

You exhaled shakily. “No. I’m not.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, letting out a rough breath. “Then why the hell did you leave?”

Your heart clenched.

He had never asked before.

Not that night, when you packed your things with shaking hands. Not when you left your key on the counter, or when you walked out of this apartment, knowing you’d never be able to come back.

But now, when it was too late, he wanted to know.

You blinked back tears. “You know why.”

Jack shook his head, stepping closer. “No, I don’t.” His voice was raw, strained. “I know you were unhappy, but you never gave me a chance to fix it. You just—” He exhaled sharply. “You just walked away.”

Your chest tightened. “Because it wasn’t something you could fix, Jack.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s bullshit.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.” Your voice wavered, but you pressed on. “You loved me, Jack. I know that. But I was never going to be your priority.”

He flinched. “That’s not—”

“Yes, it is.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “I spent so much time convincing myself that it was okay, that I could handle being second, that I could live with you being out late and missing dates and the fact that you never let me in, not really.” Your voice broke. “But I couldn’t. And I hated myself for it.”

Jack stared at you, breathing heavily. “I never meant to make you feel like that.”

“I know.”

“But I—” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you were that unhappy.”

You looked away. “That’s the problem, Jack. You didn’t even notice.”

The words landed like a blow, knocking the air from his lungs.

Jack’s breathing was uneven now, his eyes shining in the dim light. “So, what?” His voice was hoarse. “You just gave up on us?”

Your throat tightened. “I didn’t give up.” You blinked back tears. “I just—I got tired of fighting for something that only ever felt one-sided.”

Jack inhaled sharply, like you just confirmed his worst fear.

“I loved you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

You nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I know.”

Jack took another step forward, close enough now that you could see the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he was allowed to.

“You’re still the only thing I think about,” he confessed. “Every fucking day.”

A choked breath escaped you. “Jack—”

“Do you miss me?” His voice was quiet, but the desperation was unmistakable.

Your heart shattered. “Every day.”

Jack exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief second before looking at you again, and for the first time, you saw it: the cracks in his foundation, the pressure of everything he had been carrying since the night you left.

“I don’t know how to let you go,” he admitted.

And God, you wished he didn’t say that.

Because neither did you.

But you had to.

You stepped back, blinking rapidly. “You already did.”

Jack’s face crumpled, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t fight.

And that was how you knew it was really over.

You took another step back, then another. Jack watched you go, his expression unreadable, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

But this time, when you walked out the door, he didn’t follow.

When you finally stepped onto the street, the cold air biting at your skin, you realized something:

You would spend the rest of your life trying to forget Jack.

But he would always be the one memory you could never erase.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ JH86 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[fiapartridge]

wish you were sober | nico hischier 💌🤍🥂

"pulling me close, begging me to stay over / but i'm over this rollercoaster" - conan gray, wish you were sober

nico hischer x reader

summary: nico only loves you when he can't remember it

warning(s): drinking, pushy a little? but not that bad

wc: 3.5k

fia's notes 💌: hiii i havent written a fic in so long lol so sorry if this sucks lmfao but i go back to school tomorrow so just wanted to put something out before i leave <3

THE BASE OF the music thrummed through the house like a heartbeat, loud and relentless. It was as if it was mirroring your own. The party was packed to the brim—bodies pressed together and drinks spilling as people shouted over the noise. Had half the party not been famous hockey players, the police would have had this place shut down within the first 30 minutes. 

You lingered in the kitchen, your cup held loosely to your lips as you scanned the crowd. You sat atop the cold marble countertop, knowing exactly who you were looking for—though you told yourself you weren’t. It wasn’t your fault, though. It was like your eyes were just attracted to him. Like you could sense him from a mile away without even seeing him. He was that intoxicating. 

And there he was. Right in the middle of the room. 

Nico.

He was surrounded by his teammates, his head thrown back in laughter as he listened to some joke Jack had said. He had this effortless way of commanding attention, of making people want to be around him. Maybe it was his everpresent smile, or the way he pushed back his soft brunette hair every couple minutes, or the way he towered over anyone in his presence, like he was protecting them. Nico was always the protector. Maybe that was what drew you to him the most. 

But that was also the worst thing about him, because who was there to protect you from him?

You tried to tear your gaze away, but it was impossible. You were caught in his orbit, just like always. 

As if sensing your eyes on him, Nico turned, his dark gaze locking on yours. His lazy, drunken smirk molded upon seeing you—his best friend. You knew how this would end. Save the heartbreak—and leave. But before you could get the chance to slip away, he was making his way toward you, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determination that made your stomach twist.

Nico wasn’t a bad person. He never hurt you, or blatantly tried to make you feel bad. He was honestly the nicest guy on the team when he wasn’t making fun of your skating, or the way you try to pronounce certain German words. He was your best friend. The one guy in the whole world who you would trust with your life. But tonight, and other nights just like these, you weren’t sure who he was.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice bright with excitement as he reached you. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”

You looked down towards the pulsating floorboards, turning away from his gaze. This happened—a lot. He’s your best friend one night—coming over to your apartment just so you two could watch funny TikToks at 2AM, critiquing your Tinder profile (“Your favorite dog breed is a golden retriever? That is so basic. We’re coming up with something better than that.”), and pushing you in shopping carts as you run away from angry employees—and other nights, he was like this. He was “in love” with you.

“You’re drunk, Nico,” you muttered, your heart stuttering in your chest.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want this. You’ve been wanting this since the moment you started working for the Devils and saw him walk down the tunnel in his full gear. He gave you a smile, gave you a rundown on every single player on the team—who to avoid (dating-wise), who to keep your camera on, and who gave the best answers— and wished you luck. A year later and you’re still waiting on him. It felt pathetic at this point, but every party gives you a little spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same.

“And you’re insanely gorgeous,” he countered, his grin fading into something softer but more dangerous. His hand slid to the counter beside you, nestling himself in the spot between your legs. He leaned in so close, you could feel the heat radiating off him. The move wasn’t casual—it was intentional, like he wanted to make sure you couldn’t look anywhere but him. He knew he was etched on every single fold of your brain. He knew you were his.

Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes searched yours, dark and glassy from the alcohol but holding something deeper, something that made your heart twist. It was something you’ve felt time and time before. Something out of reach, something fleeting, something unreal.

“Nico,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to inject some steadiness into it, “you’re drunk. You don’t mean that.” You never mean it.

“Don’t I, though?” he challenged. His free hand hovered near your waist, hesitating, before brushing against the fabric of your dress, sending a shiver up your spine. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You should’ve walked away, should’ve pushed him back and created distance between the two of you, but you were frozen in place, unable to move—unable to do anything. Nico Hischier, your best friend, was looking at you like you were the only person in the room, like you were something worth chasing.

And it wasn’t the first time—but it still hurt like it was.

Two weeks ago it had been the same. A late night after one of his games, Nico’s arms slung lazily over your shoulders as you sat on your couch, giving in to him. You two had just came back from a bar Mercer had coaxed you all into hitting up after the game. Nico was drunk, warm, and inviting. He’d leaned in closer than usual, his voice low as he told you how much he appreciated you, how you made everything easier, how he didn’t know what he would do without you. 

He’d kissed you that night. Just once, soft and fleeting, but enough to leave you staring at the ceiling long after he’d passed out on your couch. 

The next morning, he’d woken up with a groan, running a hand through his messy hair and complaining about his hangover. 

“Thanks for letting me stay over,” he’d said casually, like nothing happened, like your lips hadn’t still been burning from his the night before.

You had waited, hoping—praying—he’d bring it up. Hoping he’d say something. Anything.

But he hadn’t. And you hadn’t dared to either. 

Then there was last summer. Jesper Bratt’s birthday party. Nico had been drunk, but not sloppy—just enough to let his walls come down.

“You’re it for me, Y/N,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours as you sat on the back porch, ignoring the sounds of shouting and laughter from inside. “No one even comes close.”

You’d let yourself believe him, let yourself imagine for one stupid, passing moment that he meant it. 

But the next day, when you’d texted him, he responded with nothing more than a meme and a casual, “What time are you coming to the rink?”

No acknowledgement. No follow-up. Just the same old Nico, acting like your heart wasn’t caught somewhere between confusion and disappointment. 

And then there was the time he had pulled you onto his lap at a party. His hands rested on your thighs, his lips ghosting over your ear as he murmured sweet nothings, the kind of thing that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

“You’re everything, Y/N,” he’d whispered. He kissed you, allowed his arms to roam around your body, for his eyes to trail over every part of you that made you insecure. Maybe that was part of the rouse. He had pressed his lips, branded every single surface of your body, had seen all the parts of you that you absolutely hated, and somehow convinced you that they were beautiful.

But the next morning, just like all the times before, he’d acted like it hadn’t happened.

“Did you see that dog I sent you on Instagram? Gotta update that Tinder answer—that is your new favorite breed,” he’d said, flashing you that charming grin as you two sat in a diner for breakfast, like you hadn’t spent half the night replaying the way he’d held you—like maybe he actually meant it this time.

Your chest had tightened, you forced a smile and nodded, choking down your disappointment like it was something that you could just swallow and forget—but you never did, and you probably never will.

You swallowed thickly, staring at the boy in front of you. His dark, glassy eyes held yours as if searching for something—some unspoken permission, some proof that this wasn’t just a one-sided game he liked to play when the alcohol made him bold.

But you knew better by now. Didn’t you? You’d spent too many nights like this, caught between the boy who claimed you were his everything one night and the one who pretended none of it mattered the next morning.

But still, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat when he leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing yours. His lips finding the soft skin of your neck, placing delicate kisses in the places he knew drove you crazy.

"Nico," you whispered, the word trembling in the air between you. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You shouldn’t keep doing this to yourself.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. "Come home with me tonight."

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn the world stopped spinning. The music faded, the room blurred, and all that existed was him—his soft brown eyes, his messy hair, the faint scent of cologne mixed with alcohol.

You wanted to say no. God, you wanted to say no. But the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing keeping him here, made it impossible. He always did this—always made you feel like you were the center of his universe for one fleeting moment before tearing it all away the next morning.

And maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was because you were simply weak, but you couldn’t bring yourself to walk away. Not when he looked at you like this.

"Okay," you said softly, hating yourself for how easily the word slipped out.

Nico grinned, a lopsided, boyish smile that made your stomach flip despite the ache in your chest. His hand wrapped around yours, pulling you off the counter and guiding you through the crowd with an urgency that felt all too familiar. The buzz of the party seemed to drown out, replaced by the rapid beat of your heart, the quickening of your breath.

When you reached the door, Nico was already pulling out his phone, ordering the Uber without a second thought. You didn’t stop him. Maybe part of you was still caught in the warmth of his hand in yours, or maybe you were just too tired to argue.

Once the Uber arrived, the two of you slid into the backseat, his arms already encircling you as your head laid on his slow-rising chest. The peacefulness of it all made you feel both content and terrified at the same time. How was he so good at this? At making you believe that he wanted you? How was he so steady and still, knowing that he was shaking up your entire life with this moment alone.

He felt safe, and warm, and inviting. And you hated that because you knew it was wrong. This whole thing was wrong. So why couldn’t you let go?

He planted flowery kisses to the crown of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His entire body was so close, you could feel the heat and the tension radiating from him. This moment—it felt like everything and nothing at the same exact time. 

"You’re so beautiful," Nico murmured against your hair, his voice rough but sincere. "Every time I look at you, I just... I don’t know how to explain it. You’ve got this way about you that drives me crazy. You’re everything."

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the knots of confusion twisting in your stomach. It felt too good, and that scared you more than anything. His kisses continued, delicate and tender, each one making your heart race in a way that both calmed and terrified you.

You knew this wasn’t real; that he had done this countless times before, but was it so bad to believe it was—just for tonight?

You allowed for your eyes to close, for your body to rest and mold against him, for him to take you completely..He shifted slightly, his fingers running through your hair, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “You’re always like this,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection. “You just always make everything feel... easier, I guess.”

You couldn’t help but notice the softness in his tone, the way he seemed to genuinely mean it, even though you both knew this wasn’t it—not really.

The car hummed quietly around you as he leaned his cheek against your head, his breath warm on your skin. It was easy to let yourself get lost in the moment, his presence so familiar, so comforting. But then his voice broke the silence again, the words so casual they almost seemed like an afterthought.

“I always remember you, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air, soft but heavy, and it hit you like a tidal wave. Your breath caught, your chest tightening so suddenly it felt like you’d been punched. You glanced at him for half a second, but he wasn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze fixed out the window, a faint smile still playing on his lips, like he hadn’t just shattered you with a few careless words.

You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift in your thoughts. The feeling of his arms around you didn’t feel the same anymore. His closeness had always been a comfort, but now it felt like a reminder of everything you were trying to avoid.

He didn’t even realize what he’d just done, how his lighthearted, offhand comment had sent you spiraling. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t do anything. His hand continued to lightly trace circles on your arm, his presence close, but something about it now—it felt toxic, like the entire thing, all that you two had built in the last few minutes had just blown up on you. 

Because he wasn’t just talking about tonight, not just the alcohol clouding his thoughts. No, he’d remembered you all along. Even when it felt like he hadn’t been there, like it was just something that happened when he was caught up in the moment, he always remembered.

But he pretended like he didn’t.

Before you could say anything, the Uber pulled up to his apartment, and you both got out of the car, the night air doing little to settle the emotions swirling between you.

Nico smiled softly, his hand brushing yours, pulling you into the building. He looked at you like nothing had changed, like he hadn’t just dropped a truth bomb on your heart. 

When you arrived, he held the door open for you, his grin softening into something more intimate as he led you inside, his hand lingering on your lower back as he guided you past the threshold. The apartment was familiar, but it felt different tonight—distant, colder, almost suffocating. Nico wasn’t just a boy in front of you anymore; he was a reminder of everything you couldn’t quite make sense of.

Once you were in, he closed the door behind you with a soft click. He stood there for a moment, his eyes still on you, his chest rising and falling with a deep, steady breath, as though he was waiting for something.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. But just like everything Nico did, he pushed forward like he didn’t even have to try, like he never did anything for the first time. He just always knew. 

And before you knew it, his hands were on your waist, hungrily exploring your body like he had never traversed around it before. His lips pressed gently against yours, like he was giving you time to back out, to tell him that this wasn’t what you wanted. He was testing the waters with you. And you knew you shouldn’t be here; that you should’ve taken that moment, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Not yet.

He backed you up against the couch, the soft, plush arms hitting the back of your thighs as he groaned softly into your mouth. His hands slid under your dress, the heat of his palms on your skin making your breath hitch, his kisses growing more urgent as if he was trying to steal something from you. You could feel the tension building between you, his desire so palpable, so intense, that it was almost suffocating.

You could feel it, too—your own heart pounding, your body responding despite the part of you that was screaming to stop. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him. You did. Maybe too much. But this wasn’t right. Not like this.

He kissed down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “Y/N…” His hands found their way to your back, slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his lips trailing after them. "Come on, just let go tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and pleading. "Tell me you want this."

The weight of the situation settled over you, and suddenly everything felt wrong—too fast, too much. You pulled back, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady your breathing. His eyes were dark, clouded with desire, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you needed.

“I can’t do this,” you said, your voice trembling, but firm. “I don’t want this.”

The words hit him like a switch. As soon as you said them, Nico froze.. His hands, still hovering near the straps of your dress, stilled. His lips parted, but no words came. His hands dropped to his sides, and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to steady himself, like he was struggling to understand. You could almost hear the shift in his thoughts—the reality sinking in as the alcohol seemingly cleared from his system in an instant.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, the words low, raw, and full of regret. He reached for you as if to stop you from leaving, but then he hesitated, pulling his hand back like you might vanish if he touched you. "God, Y/N, I didn't—"

“You didn’t do anything,” you murmured, placing your hand on his wrist. “It’s me.” Before he could protest, you were already looking into his eyes with something he’s never seen from you before. Remorse? Sadness? Regret? “I like you more than you will ever like me. I just wish…you wanted me when you were sober," you whispered like you had just revealed your entire hand.

And in the scope of it all, you had. You were completely bare.

There was a long silence, his lips parted as though he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he just stood there, his hands hanging at his sides as if the life had drained out of him. And you knew he wasn’t seeing you, not really. He was seeing someone else—the girl he could keep at arm’s length, the girl who would give him what he wanted when it was easy, when he was too drunk to remember what it really meant.

You didn’t want to be that girl anymore.

“I’m leaving,” you said quietly, already stepping toward the door. Nico didn’t try to stop you this time. Instead, he watched, his eyes following you as you reached for the handle.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

The words hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you could almost hear his sincerity, though you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol wearing off or the realization that he had truly pushed you too far. But that didn’t matter anymore.

You opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, the weight in your chest only growing heavier as you walked away. You knew leaving was the right choice—no matter how much it hurt. It was time to stop pretending, to stop chasing something that wasn’t meant for you.

By the time you were back home, the tears were spilling over, and his words were echoing in your head. You leaned against the wall, your body crumpling into a pile on the floor of your kitchen. You had made the right choice—leaving before it went too far, before you let him make you feel like you were disposable again. But that damn line, "I always remember you"—it haunted you. Lighthearted. Careless. Yet somehow, it felt like the cruelest thing he’d ever said. 

After a while, you stood up, wiped your tears, slid off your dress, sat in bed, and hoped that one day, Nico would wish he’d been sober too.