#i like how these turned out and i'm excited to stick them onto everything!!

[kayleerowena]

🫀 celebrating valentine's day early with some antifascist candy hearts 🫀

making art has been difficult lately given, you know, everything, so this is me finding the venn diagram between loving the valentine's aesthetic (as always) & being so so angry about the state of the world.

[ekybrini]

slipping through my fingers| JACK HUGHES

— ⟡ summary | in which y/n and Jake childhood best friends who've always had something there for each other. But once jack gets drafted everything changed for both of them.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I know of)

— ⟡ word count | 17.8k (GUYS IM SORRY)

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!!! im so excited to finally start writing again! I apologizer if this seems rushed. also this is EXTREMELY INACCURATE!!! please don't think this is literal, I don't know how some of these things work. also i apologize if this is cringe bc I CANNOT write romance for the life of me. I'm currently on spring break so I'll be trying to take advantage of being able to write a few things! if anyone wants to request or suggest anything don't hesitate to go into my inbox . i'll try to get to it and write it as soon as I can :) after spring break I may be a little inactive as i'm trying to lock in, in some of my classes before the semesters is over (ap econ and living earth are actually kicking my ass)

⟡ slipping through your fingers | jack hughes (jacks pov)

Part two

You've known Jack since you were kids. Backyard games of street hockey, summer nights spent on the lake, and watching him skate around with his brothers. you were always there. best friends through and through. 

The first time you met Jack, you were about 10 years old. You had just moved into the neighborhood and the first thing you noticed was the street hockey that was happening right outside of your house. The kids from the neighborhood were scattered in every direction, sticks raised, yelling at each other. The one who caught your attention right away was the kid with the wild hair, darting around the group with such speed that it was almost impossible to keep up. He made it look effortless. He, of course, was jack. 

You were lonely at first, standing awkwardly by the curb or watching the game through your bedroom window . Jack, always the curious one, had spotted you one day as you were sitting on the curb and skated over with a big grin.

"You gonna watch all day, or do you wanna join us?" he’d asked, not missing a beat, despite being out of breath. his eyes were full of that contagious energy.

You'd hesitated, feeling unsure. “I don’t know. I’m not really good at this... I’ve never really played before.”

"Come on! I’ll teach you," Jack insisted. "It’s easy, you just gotta push the puck this way, and then..." He demonstrated, sending the puck flying past you. "See? Just like that!"

It wasn’t perfect, but you tried. And Jack, always encouraging, cheered you on even as you missed the puck completely a few times. "Don’t worry. You’ll get it. It’s all about having fun."

From that moment on, you and Jack were inseparable. Summer after summer, it was the same routine. Jack, with his scruffy hair and infectious smile, would be the one to drag you out onto the street, even if you were just coming off a bad day at school or feeling a little down.

One of your favorite memories came when you were both about 12 years old. It was a hot, sticky summer afternoon. Jack, as usual, had the game already set up, calling the shots while the other neighborhood kids were pretending to be superstars in a game that felt far more like a chaotic free for all than a real match.

"You in or what?" Jack shouted, holding out a stick. “This game’s going nowhere without you.”

You rolled your eyes, already seeing the sweat dripping from his forehead, his shirt clinging to his back. "You know, I was just thinking about going inside and having a popsicle."

"Are you really gonna let me down like this?" Jack raised an eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear. “you promised you'd play after school." 

"Fine," you said with a laugh, grabbing the stick. "But this time, I’m definitely winning."

You didn't win, at least not that day, but you had so much fun trying. Jack was so fast, his little tricks and turns keeping you on your toes, but every time he made a move, you were there to give it your best shot. You kept pushing him, running after the puck until the sun dipped below the horizon, and both of you were covered in dirt and sweat, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

That night, you sat side by side on the dock by the lake, feet dangling in the cool water as you two ate ice cream bars. The night was quiet except for the distant croak of frogs. 

“You were so close to getting me,” Jack said between breaths, a playful edge to his voice. He tilted his head back to look at the sky. “You’ll get me next time. Just wait.”

You chuckled, watching him with a teasing smile. "Yeah, sure, Jack. Maybe when I’m 18 and you’ve forgotten how to skate."

Jack laughed loudly, nudging you with his elbow. “Not a chance. I’ll always be better. But hey, I can teach you some moves if you want.”

“Oh, I bet you would,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Teach me how to win, too?”

"Obviously," he said with a grin, though there was a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I’ll make you into a skating legend if that's what you want.”

You didn't know it then, but those summers spent with Jack would become some of the best memories of your life. Even when the seasons changed and the street hockey games moved indoors. Jack’s determination never left. You spent every Saturday watching him at the rink, your nose pressed against the cold glass as he glided across the ice, his stick flashing, eyes full of focus. He was good. Too good, in fact. And with every game, the crowd cheered louder with his dreams growing bigger.

⟡

By the time you and Jack hit your early teens, things start to feel different. It’s not obvious at first just a lingering glance here, a nervous laugh there. Jack’s still Jack competitive, loud, always pulling you into whatever chaos he’s creating. But sometimes, when his hand brushes against yours, or when he looks at you a second too long after you’ve made a joke, it feels like something is shifting beneath the surface. You notice it, even if you don’t understand it yet.

The way he seems to notice you more, how he’s always trying to catch your eye in a group conversation, how his voice drops just a little when he says your name. It’s subtle, and you try to ignore it. He’s your best friend, right? Nothing has changed between you two. You’re still the same, pulling pranks on each other, laughing at dumb things, challenging each other to stupid games on long summer afternoons.

But the moments keep building like when he reaches across the table to grab something and his fingers graze the back of your hand, leaving a warmth that lingers far longer than it should. Or when you catch him staring at you when you’re talking, and his expression shifts just a fraction of something unreadable there for a brief second before he masks it with a grin.

And then there are those times when the air feels too quiet. Like when you’re lying next to each other on the grass, watching the stars, and the silence stretches between you two in a way it never has before. It’s not comfortable anymore, this space. It’s heavy.

You’re 14 when you notice it for real. You’re both sitting on the dock, summer sun dipping low behind the trees, casting everything in a golden haze. Jack’s freshly showered from practice, hair still damp, the scent of soap and fresh air clinging to him. You’re half listening to him ramble on about a play he’s been trying to perfect, his words weaving in and out of the soft, distant hum of the lake’s waves against the dock.

But something in the air is different. It feels thicker. The kind of tension you get when you can’t tell whether the storm is coming, or if it’s already here and you’re just waiting for it to break. You can feel the weight of the evening sun on your skin, but your heart feels heavy, like it’s pounding against your ribs, a rhythm you’re trying to ignore.

“You’re not even listening,” he accuses, nudging you with his knee, and you startle, realizing you haven’t heard a word he’s said for the last few minutes.

“I’m listening,” you argue, even though you weren’t.

Jack raises an eyebrow, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “No, you’re not. You’ve been all quiet. What's up with you?”

You scoff, trying to brush it off. “Me? You’re the one who’s weird,” you tease, attempting to lighten the mood, but your words feel hollow, even to you.

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he studies you, his expression more serious than usual. His gaze shifts from your face to your hands, and then back to your eyes like he’s trying to figure something out that you aren’t even aware of.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows, staring out across the lake with a far-off look in his eyes. “Or maybe it’s just us.”

The words hang in the air heavy with meaning you don’t fully understand. You freeze trying to process what he’s said. It isn’t just the words, it's the way he said them. The tone in his voice is softer than usual almost uncertain. There’s something fragile in his eyes, like he’s letting a piece of himself slip past you hoping you’ll catch it, but not quite trusting you to. You don’t know how to respond.

You try to shake off the discomfort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack glances at you, his lips quivering at the edges, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze now. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Just growing up.” He pauses, his voice quieter now almost too soft for the space between you two. He looks at you then, really looks at you his eyes searching for something in yours like he’s asking a question that doesn’t have an easy answer. Something you’re not ready to answer not sure you even can.

You want to say something to reach out and close that space but you can’t find the words. Everything that’s been building between you two feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something unspoken. And the closer Jack gets to this new world he’s creating for himself this future that’s already starting to pull him away from you the more it feels like you’re both standing on the precipice of it.

You don’t have an answer, so you reach over and grab his hand. It’s instinctual, a reflex more than anything else. His fingers slide easily between yours, like they’ve always belonged there. It’s familiar, comforting even. But there’s something different in the way he holds your hand this time. He doesn’t let go immediately like he always does. He holds on for just a moment longer, and in that brief pause, the weight of it hits you.

His gaze drops to your joined hands, and you see a flicker in his eyes something unreadable, maybe even a little vulnerable before he looks back up at you. The quiet between you two stretches longer than it should, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the summer air, or because of the uncertainty that’s silently wrapping itself around both of you.

“I think we’ll figure it out,” you say softly, trying to anchor this moment, even though the ground beneath you feels like it’s shifting.

Jack’s smile is small, unsure. It’s not his usual confident grin, but it’s there. Barely, but it’s there. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Not yet. 

You don’t know what “figuring it out” means, or if you even can figure it out. All you know is that in this moment, with the sun setting behind the trees and the sound of water lapping against the dock beneath you, everything feels poised on the edge of something you don’t understand.

But you’re scared that the moment you try to reach for it, Jack might pull away.

⟡

It’s late, the fire has burned down to a few glowing embers, and the crickets are the only sound beside the occasional splash of water against the dock. You’re sitting with Jack, your legs hanging over the side, toes brushing the cool surface of the lake. The night is quiet, almost too quiet, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a distance between you that wasn’t there before.

Jack’s usually carefree, his humor quick, his energy contagious. But tonight, he’s different. He’s quieter, eyes lost somewhere beyond the horizon. You’ve known him long enough to know when something’s off.

"Jack, you okay?" you ask, not pushing, just asking.

"Do you ever feel like things are changing?" His voice is low, almost hesitant, and you turn to look at him, your heart skipping a beat.

You nod slowly, sensing that this conversation is heading somewhere you’ve both been avoiding for too long. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling it." You pause, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you really see him. His face, the way his eyes linger on you, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something more. It’s all so familiar, and yet, everything feels new. "It’s been hard to ignore."

Jack exhales sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath. He leans back, letting his head rest against the wood of the dock, looking up at the stars above. "I’ve been trying to figure it out. For a while now. What’s going on between us."

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in your chest. Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "What do you mean?"

Jack doesn’t look at you right away, but you see his jaw tense, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he glances over at you, his gaze intense. "I think I’ve been avoiding it. The way things have felt. I’ve always known you meant a lot to me. But it’s more than that now. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it."

Your heart races. This isn’t just a fleeting moment, this is him, telling you exactly what you’ve been feeling. Your stomach flips as the words finally hit you.

"I’ve been feeling it too," you admit, your voice steady but your pulse thundering in your ears. "It’s different now, Jack. And I can’t pretend it’s not."

There’s a long silence between you two as the words settle in the space around you. You both know it’s out there now the truth that neither of you could avoid forever. The air feels thick, charged with everything you’ve been holding back.

Jack’s gaze softens as he turns fully toward you. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. "I’ve tried not to think about it, but it’s impossible," he admits, his thumb tracing along the back of your hand. "I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of you as just my best friend. And now I don’t know how to go back."

You feel your breath catch in your throat. This is it. The thing you’ve both been dancing around for so long, the thing neither of you knew how to say. But now, here it is, raw and real.

"I don’t want to go back," you say, your voice soft but certain. "I’ve felt the same way, Jack. For a while now."

"You know, I keep thinking back to when we were kids," he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. "Back when things were simpler. We used to hang out, play hockey, talk about everything and nothing. I always thought that was enough."

You smile, remembering those simpler times. "It was enough. It still is."

Jack laughs under his breath, but there’s something different in it. "Yeah. But now... I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about how things feel between us lately. And I don’t know how to handle it."

Your heart picks up a little pace, and you look at him, feeling a shift in the air between you two. It’s subtle, but it's there. His eyes are locked on you now, and the usual teasing glint is gone.

"I think I’ve known for a while," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "That things have changed. That maybe… we’ve changed."

Jack’s gaze softens, and for a second, everything feels like it’s falling into place, like the puzzle pieces are finally lining up. "I’ve been thinking about it too," he says, his voice low. "And I don’t know if I’m ready for this to be weird between us. I don’t want it to be weird."

Your stomach flips at the vulnerability in his voice. "I don’t think it has to be. It doesn’t have to be weird, Jack."

He looks at you for a long moment, and you can tell he’s weighing his next words carefully. He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and that simple touch feels like the universe’s nudge, reminding you that things have always been easy with him. There’s no pretending with Jack. There’s never been any pretending.

"I guess we’ve always been able to figure things out," Jack says, his voice steady now. "And maybe this is just… one of those times."

You nod, your chest tight as you try to put into words what you’ve been feeling for so long. But nothing really needs to be said. This moment, this quiet understanding between you two, is enough.

Jack leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not enough to cross the final line. His gaze flickers between your eyes, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes again, as if he’s waiting for something. The space between you both seems impossibly small, charged with everything that’s unsaid.

You can’t deny it anymore the way your heart races in your chest, the way your breath feels shallow, as if you’ve been holding it in all this time. This moment, this change between you, feels like it could either break everything or put it all back together.

His hand hovers just inches from yours, like he’s unsure whether to close the distance, like he’s waiting for you to decide. The air is thick with the weight of it. You’ve both danced around this for so long, carefully, quietly, but now it feels like everything is teetering on the edge. One move, one step, and it’ll change everything.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Jack’s voice is almost a whisper, his usual teasing gone. There’s something softer in the way he says it, like he’s genuinely asking, genuinely uncertain for the first time.

You laugh quietly, but it doesn’t feel like the teasing kind of laugh you’re used to. It’s shaky, full of nerves. “No... Just a little confused, I guess. Not sure if this is all too much.”

Jack shifts closer, and his hand brushes against yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He doesn’t look away now, and neither do you. His breath is slow, steady, and in the stillness, you hear his heart beating in time with yours.

“I’m not sure either,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think I’ve known for a while… I don’t think we can keep pretending things are the same. I can’t. And I’m not sure what will happen next, but I know I don’t want to screw it up.”

You swallow, your own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. Everything that’s been left unsaid finally hangs in the air between you two, heavy and undeniable. The fear of what could change, of what could be lost, and the quiet hope that maybe just maybe it could work.

"Jack…” You start to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat. You want to say that you’ve been feeling it too, that you’re terrified of losing this, of messing it all up. But the weight of it all is too much. So instead, you just shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the uncertainty in your chest. “I don’t know what happens next either.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer, everything inside you pulling toward him, wanting to close the space between you both. And with that final breath, that quiet understanding, you realize it doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be figured out right now.

You lean in the rest of the way, tilting your head slightly, and then Jack’s lips meet yours.

It’s nothing like you expected. It’s soft, hesitant at first, like you both are testing the waters. But it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. It’s not about the future or the fear of change it’s just about right now, and the way everything feels when it’s just the two of you.

When you pull away, there’s a breathless pause, but it’s not awkward. It’s not forced. It’s just you, and him, and everything that’s been building between you finally making sense.

Jack’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and there’s a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I think I could get used to this,” he says, voice low, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

You let out a soft laugh, the tension between you both easing, and for the first time, it feels like you don’t need to say anything more. You both know. It’s not perfect, it’s not figured out yet but it’s real, and maybe that’s enough for now.

⟡

It’s almost midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen, the glow too harsh in the dark room. It’s a text from Jack. “are you up?” 

You rub your eyes and sit up the sleepiness fading as you type back. “yeah, what’s up? Are you okay?its midnight.” The dots appear and disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already knowing where this is going. “ want me to come over?” This time, the dots stay. “You don’t have too, just want to talk to you.”

You slip out of bed, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping on your shoes without even thinking about it. Your house is quiet as you head out the back door and cut across the yard. Jack’s house is familiar, the kind of place you could walk to blindfolded. The back door is unlocked like it always is.

You find him on the couch, the TV on low, playing some old hockey highlights. His head is tipped back against the cushion but his eyes are open dark circles shadowing his face. He looks up when he hears you, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart ache a little.

“You didn’t have to come,” Jack says, sitting up.

“You knew I would,” you reply, kicking off your shoes and sitting down beside him. Your knee bumps against his. He’s in sweats and an old usa hockey hoodie, and his hair’s still damp from a shower. He looks tired.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes stay on the screen, but you can tell he’s not really watching. The hum of the commentary blends into the background. You wait, not pushing you’ve always known how to give him space when he needs it.

“I can’t sleep,” he says finally, voice low. His knee bounces restlessly. “I keep thinking about the combine.”

You lean back against the couch, watching the screen as a highlight reel of some playoff game flickers by. “What about it?”

Jack sighs. “Everything. The tests. The interviews. The scouts. If I screw up, it’s going to be everywhere.” His hand runs through his hair, leaving it messy. “I mean, I’ve trained for this my whole life, right? But now that it’s actually here I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to screw up,” you say softly.

Jack lets out a hollow laugh. “Yeah? What if I do?”

You nudge his leg with your foot. “You won’t. But even if you did it wouldn’t change anything. Not with me.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you, guarded but searching. He’s quiet for a beat. Then, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, “It’d change everything else.”

You shift toward him, turning so your knee presses more firmly against his. “Jack, you’ve worked your ass off for this. One bad day at the combine isn’t going to erase years of training and games and scouts already knowing you’re good enough.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, his eyes falling to his hands. His thumb rubs absently along the inside of his palm. “Yeah, but what if I’m not enough?”

You don’t hesitate. You reach over, lacing your fingers through his. His hand is warm, his skin rough from years of hockey sticks and gloves. He tenses for half a second, then relaxes into the touch.

“You’re enough,” you say, quiet but steady. “You’ve always been enough, Jack. Even if you didn’t have hockey.”

Jack’s eyes lift to meet yours, wide and a little raw. His thumb grazes the side of your hand, slow and deliberate.

“You really believe that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Jack’s mouth curves into the smallest smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something. His gaze drops back to the screen, though his hand stays in yours, his thumb running over your knuckles.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t uncomfortable it’s the kind of quiet that feels like home. Jack’s breathing evens out, his knee resting against yours. The highlights on the screen blur together.

“Stay?” Jack asks after a long moment. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

You squeeze his hand. “Yeah.”

Jack shifts, leaning back against the couch. You lean into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His hand stays tangled with yours, his thumb brushing back and forth along your knuckles in a steady rhythm. Slowly, the tension in his body eases.

“Thanks,” Jack murmurs. His head tips toward yours, his breath warm against your hair.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you say, eyes drifting shut. “Just remember this. When it gets hard, when the pressure’s too much, remember you don’t have to do it alone.”

Jack’s hand tightens around yours, his breath catching for half a second. Then he relaxes.

“I’ll remember,” he promises, voice low and sure.

You smile, your heart steady now as you let the sound of his breathing and the flicker of the TV lull you toward sleep. You know there’s still a long road ahead, the combine, the draft, Jack’s rookie year  but for now, this is enough.

It’s late afternoon when you find Jack on the ice, alone.

The rink is almost empty and quite the kind of quiet that makes the sound of skates cutting into the ice seem louder. Jack’s in a plain grey hoodie, a puck sliding back and forth between his stick blade as he moves through the neutral zone. His head is down, shoulders tense, and even from the stands, you can tell he’s overthinking it. His movements are sharp, almost mechanical like he’s trying too hard to be perfect.

You sit down on the bleachers, the cold from the rink seeping through your jeans. Jack’s been like this all week quiet, short answers, disappearing for extra hours at the rink. You didn’t have to ask why. The NHL Combine is in two weeks. The pressure’s been building, and Jack’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

A sharp slap of the puck against the glass pulls you from your thoughts. Jack’s skating toward the blue line, his stick dragging behind him as he breathes heavily, a little unsteady. He circles back toward center ice, but his stride falters slightly just enough for you to notice.

“You’re overthinking it,” you call out, standing.

Jack glances up, his expression closed off but his eyes soften when he sees you. He coasts toward the boards, resting his forearms against the top. His breath comes out in sharp clouds of condensation.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says but there’s no bite to his words.

You shrug. “Figured you’d need moral support.”

Jack huffs a soft laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drops to the ice. “Not really playing like someone who deserves it.”

You step closer, your hands resting on the edge of the boards. “Jack, you’re allowed to have a bad practice.”

Jack shakes his head. “Not now. Not this close.” His hands flex around his stick. “I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you. There’s something guarded in his expression the same look he gets when he’s trying not to show how much it’s getting to him. His eyes are dark under the shadows of his helmet.

“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.

You swallow, searching for the right words. “Yeah, I do.”

Jack exhales sharply, his gaze drifting to the ice. He’s quiet for a long time before he speaks again, his voice low. “What if I’m not good enough?”

Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice. He’s always been confident, cocky, even but this is different. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

You rest your hand over his where it grips the top of the boards. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. “Jack” Your voice softens. “You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. One bad practice isn’t going to change the fact that you belong there.”

Jack’s mouth pulls into a thin line. His eyes stay locked on the ice.

“You know that, right?” you press.

Jack’s jaw tenses. He exhales through his nose and finally meets your eyes. “Yeah. I know.” But his voice is tight, like he’s still trying to convince himself.

You squeeze his hand lightly. “Come on. Take the helmet off. Let’s reset.”

Jack hesitates for a second before unbuckling his chin strap. His hair falls into messy waves as he pulls the helmet off, and you smile despite yourself.

“There’s the Jack I know,” you say softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the tension in his face. He sets the helmet down on the boards and rests his forehead against the glass, his eyes closed for a long moment. His breath fogs up the glass in front of him.

“Why are you so calm about this?” Jack murmurs.

You smile, even though he can’t see it. “Because I know you. And I know you’re going to be fine.”

Jack’s eyes open. He tilts his head toward you, his cheek pressed against the glass. His gaze lingers on you longer than it probably should. His expression softens, his mouth curving into something more familiar less guarded.

“You always know what to say,” Jack says quietly.

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description.”

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans back from the glass, turning toward you. “And what job is that?”

“girlfriend” you say lightly, even though the words feel heavier than they should.

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth for half a second before he catches himself. shaking his head slightly. “You’ve been overpaid.”

You laugh. “I don’t know. Pretty sure I’ve earned it.”

Jack’s hand slides from the boards, brushing against yours as he steps back onto the ice. The contact is brief a split second  but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

He skates backward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Stay?”

You smile. “Always.”

Jack nods, his jaw unclenching slightly. His shoulders relax as he turns and skates toward the far side of the ice. He moves differently now, smoother, looser. It’s not perfect, but it’s him.

⟡

Jack’s in Buffalo for the Combine. He’d been gone for almost a week now, thrown into a blur of interviews, medical tests, and physical evaluations. You’d been following the coverage clips of him flashing across social media, a quick shot of him stepping into the arena or walking down a hallway with other top prospects. He looked calm on the surface, but you knew better.  The absence of him is starting to feel like a hollow ache beneath your ribs. You’ve talked to him every day, quick texts in the morning, rushed calls at night  but it’s not the same as having him there next to you. He’s exhausted you can tell even through the phone but he’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

You’re half asleep when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It takes you a second to realize what’s happening, the glow from the screen sharp against the dark. You blink, rubbing your eyes as you reach for it for the sixth time this week knowing it was a text from Jack “are you awake?”

You sit up, sleep slipping away as you type back. “yeah. What's wrong? it’s late.” The typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already feeling the tightness in your chest. “want me to call?” A pause. “I just need to hear your voice.” Jack replied. 

You hit the call button without even looking at his message. Jack answers on the second ring. “Hey,” you say softly. “Hey,” Jack’s voice is rough, low. He sounds tired.

“Did you just finish?”

“Yeah.” He exhales sharply. “Got back to my room like five minutes ago.”

“What happened?”

Jack lets out a humorless laugh. “Where do I start?” His voice is tight, and you picture the way he probably looks right now sprawled out on the hotel bed, arm draped over his eyes. “The bike test was brutal. My legs were shaking so bad I thought I was going to fall off.”

You wince. “That bad?”

“They crank up the resistance until you physically can’t pedal anymore,” Jack says. “I could barely stand afterward.” Your chest tightens. “Jack” he cuts you off. “And the VO2 max test?” Jack groans. “I thought I was gonna puke. I was seeing spots by the end.” You frown. “Did anyone else struggle that much?”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be better than that.” His voice sharpens. “I can’t afford to screw this up.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly. “You weren’t there,” Jack says, his tone edged with something close to frustration. But then his breath catches, and his voice softens. “Sorry. I didn’t mean”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt gently. “What else happened?” Jack sighs. “Wingate test. They make you sprint all out on the bike for 30 seconds. My legs were already toast, so I tanked it.”

“Jack” you say once again, getting cut off “And the long jump?” He laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. “I swear I’ve never jumped that short in my life.”

“Did Quinn do better?” you ask carefully. “Of course he did,” Jack mutters. “The scouts loved him.” Your heart aches at the sharpness in his tone. You know how much Jack admires Quinn, but that admiration is tangled up with the constant pressure to keep up.

“And then,” Jack’s voice lowers, frustration leaking through, “they threw me into interviews while I could barely breathe. One scout asked if I thought I deserved to go first overall.” Your mouth tightens. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Another one asked if I think I’m better than Quinn.” You sit up straighter. “What the hell?” Jack mutters “I didn’t even know what to say,” His voice is low and tight. “I think I screwed it up.”

“You didn’t,” you say firmly. Jack doesn’t respond right away. You hear the rustling of sheets, the muffled sound of the TV in the background probably an old hockey game. “I don’t know,” Jack murmurs. “I need to be better.”

“Jack.” Your voice softens. “You’ve done enough. You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. You’re too hard on yourself” Jack’s quiet for a moment. Then, so soft you almost miss it “What if it’s not enough?” Your chest tightens. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Close your eyes.” Jack’s quiet for a second. “What?” 

“Just trust me.” 

A long breath. “Okay.”

“You’re on the ice,” you say. “Just you. The rink’s empty.” Jack’s breath steadies. “You’ve got the puck,” you continue. “Skating down center ice. No pressure, no scouts, no cameras. Just you.”Jack hums quietly, like he can almost see it.“You make the shot,” you say. “Bar down. Clean.” Jack exhales. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “And you don’t even need to look, because you already know it’s in.”There’s a long stretch of quiet on the other end of the line. Then, so soft you almost miss it “I wish you were here.”

“I know,” you whisper, throat tightening. “Me too.” Jack sighs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he shifts. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re not going to find out,” you say, trying to sound light, but it comes out more fragile than you mean it to. Jack’s quiet for a long time. You think he might have fallen asleep until you hear him murmur, “You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.” You press the phone closer to your ear, even though it won’t bring him any closer. “You’ve got this,” you whisper. “You’re going to be fine.”

Jack breathes out, low and even. “Stay on the phone with me?”

“Yeah,” you say, curling into your pillow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack’s quiet for a while after that, but you don’t hang up. You stay there, listening to the sound of his breathing as it evens out, until the line finally goes quiet and you know he’s asleep. You don’t hang up. Not yet.

⟡

Jack’s been quiet all morning. His usual easy smile is nowhere to be found, replaced by a tight line of tension in his jaw. He’s been bouncing his knee relentlessly, his leg jittering under the table during breakfast at the hotel. He barely touched his food, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate until Quinn took it away and told him to stop torturing it. Now, he’s sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, his head tipped back against the wall, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. The hotel room is bright from the mid-morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains, but it feels too quiet  too still  like the entire day is holding its breath.

Jack’s name has been everywhere since the Combine. Every hockey account, every sports network, every mock draft all saying the same thing. First overall. Franchise player. Generational talent. He should be used to it by now, but it feels different this time. Closer. Like the weight of it all is pressing down on his chest. And you feel it too, even from miles away. You saw it during the Combine  the way he tensed when people mentioned the draft, how he downplayed his scores and his interviews even when you knew he’d crushed them. Jack’s always been good at brushing things off, but this feels different. Bigger. Like it’s not just about hockey anymore. It’s about living up to something.

The draft isn’t until later tonight, but the weight of it is already pressing down. Jack’s been working toward this moment his whole life, the moment his name is called, the moment his future in the NHL becomes real and now that it’s finally here, it’s like he can’t figure out how to breathe through it.

You shift closer until your knee bumps his. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Jack’s eyes slide toward you, dark under the shadows of his lashes. He huffs out a breath. “How am I supposed to not think about it?” His voice is quiet, frayed at the edges.

You reach for his hand, your fingers slipping between his. He’s warm always is, but his hand is stiff, tense. “I don’t know. Maybe stop overthinking it.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. His gaze drifts toward the window, but you can tell he’s not really seeing it. His mind is already at Rogers Arena, already running through every possible outcome. He’s been carrying the weight of this for months the expectations, the pressure, the comparisons to Quinn, to his dad and you know it’s only gotten heavier.

“Jack.” You squeeze his hand. He doesn’t look at you right away, but when he does, his eyes are wide, a little raw around the edges. You offer him a small smile. “You’ve got this.”

Jack’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And what if I don’t?”

“You will.” You don’t hesitate, don’t even think about it. You just know. Jack’s been skating since before he could walk. He’s trained for this put in the work, put in the hours. He’s ready. Even if he can’t see it right now.

Jack’s gaze stays on you, his brow furrowing slightly. His hand tightens around yours. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shift closer until your shoulder presses against his. “That’s normal.”

Jack’s eyes darken. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are.”

Jack swallows hard, his jaw working. He looks away, his throat bobbing as he tries to steady his breathing. You can feel the tension radiating off of him, the way his chest rises and falls too quickly. His thumb rubs absently against the back of your hand.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” you say softly. “Even if you don’t go first. Even if it doesn’t go the way you expect  you’ll still have hockey. You’ll still have me.”

Jack’s breath stutters. He turns his head slightly, his cheek brushing against your hair. “You mean that?”

You lift your head and meet his gaze. “Of course I do.”

Jack’s hand slides from your hand to your knee, his fingers curling around it like he’s grounding himself there. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of the room shifts. The nerves are still there, the pressure, the uncertainty but some of the tension in his face softens. His eyes flick toward your mouth, then back to your eyes. He exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you say, just as softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Promise?”

You smile, your hand lifting to his jaw. “Promise.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes for a moment, his hand tightening on your knee. The quiet settles around you both, not the heavy kind, not the tense kind  just quiet.

“Jack?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, followed by a knock at the door. “We’ve gotta go soon.”

Jack sighs. He lifts his head, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer before he pulls away. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack stands, adjusting his shirt and brushing his hands down his pants. His gaze flicks toward you, hesitant. “You’re coming with us, right?”

You stand too, straightening his collar. “Obviously.”

Jack’s mouth curves into something close to a real smile, small but genuine. He takes your hand again, linking your fingers as he leads you toward the door.

The car ride to Rogers Arena is quiet. Jack sits next to you in the backseat, his knee bouncing, his fingers tapping against his thigh. He’s wearing a fitted suit, his hair styled but still a little messy at the top. You can tell he’s trying not to overthink it, but the tension in his jaw gives him away.

Quinn and Luke sit in the back of the car, phone in their hand, scrolling through Twitter. The whole car feels charged, the anticipation building the closer you get to the arena. When you pull up, Jack hesitates for half a second before stepping out. His hand brushes against yours as you follow him out of the car.

Inside, the energy is palpable. The arena is packed with media, fans, scouts, the low hum of conversations mixing with the occasional burst of camera flashes. Jack tugs at the cuff of his jacket, his mouth pulling into a thin line. His eyes flick toward you.

You slip your hand into his, squeezing gently. “Deep breath,” you say.

Jack’s jaw relaxes slightly. He squeezes your hand back. His eyes linger on you for a beat before he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Quinn steps up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this”

Jack’s mouth twitches. He looks toward the draft stage, toward the rows of seats, the cameras, the scouts and then back at you. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly.

You smile. “Always.”

Jack breathes out. And this time, when he looks toward the stage, the tension in his jaw fades just a little.

Jack’s heart is hammering. It’s too loud in here the buzz of conversation, the hum of the arena speakers, the occasional burst of laughter from a family. His suit jacket feels too tight across his shoulders, his tie choking him a little more with each second that passes. His name has been circling the draft floor for months, repeated on every broadcast and in every article first overall, franchise player, generational talent  but none of it feels real right now. It feels heavy. Like the weight of the entire league is resting on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He shifts in his seat, his hand resting against his thigh, and feels your fingers slip between his. His head turns toward you automatically. You’re sitting beside him, close enough that your knee is pressed against his. Your hand is steady, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping you until you adjust your hand slightly, your grip soft but certain.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, low enough that only he can hear. Jack breathes out shakily. “Am I?” You smile soft, sure. “Yeah. You are.”

Jack’s gaze drops to the floor, his thumb smoothing over the inside of your wrist. He can feel the pulse there, steady beneath his touch. His heart’s not steady. It’s racing. He doesn’t know if it’ll settle until this is over until he hears his name.

Quinn is watching him. He’s sitting straight in his chair, hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes are soft when they meet Jack’s. “You’ve got this,” Quinn says quietly. Jack’s mouth twitches. He starts to nod, but then Luke leans across from Quinn. 

“Yeah,” Luke adds, his grin lopsided, a little nervous but bright. “And if you don’t, you can always blame it on Quinn.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. 

Jack huffs a soft laugh, but it fades quickly. His gaze shifts toward the stage, where the Devils’ management team is already gathering. The nerves coil tighter in his chest. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly. 

You don’t even hesitate. “Always.”

Jack’s eyes soften, some of the tension fading from his expression. He breathes out and shifts closer, his knee pressing into yours beneath the table. He doesn’t have time to say anything else before the commissioner steps up to the microphone.

Jack’s stomach drops. The noise in the arena swells as the camera swings toward the Devils’ table. The commissioner is still talking, but Jack barely hears it over the blood rushing in his ears. His legs feel locked beneath the table. His chest is tight.

“And with the first overall pick, the New Jersey Devils are proud to select from the US National Team Development Program… Jack Hughes.”

Your hand squeezes his.

Jack exhales. He stands on shaky legs as Quinn claps him on the back, Luke grinning wide as he jumps up to hug him. “Dude!” Luke laughs, his arms tight around Jack’s waist. Quinn pulls them both in, his head knocking against Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s laugh comes out a little breathless.

“Go get your jersey,” Quinn says, his voice thick with pride.

Jack’s hand is still locked with yours as he turns toward you. His expression is soft, his eyes dark and bright all at once. “You’re coming with me after this, right?”

You smile. “Try and stop me.”

Jack hesitates for half a second, then leans in. He kisses you quickly  just a press of his lips against your cheek  but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles once more before he finally lets go and steps away.

Jack walks toward the stage, his heart still pounding but his legs moving steady beneath him. He can feel Quinn and Luke’s eyes on him, your smile burned into the back of his mind. He shakes hands with the commissioner, pulls on the Devils jersey, and lifts the hat onto his head. Cameras flash. The noise swells. His chest is tight again  but this time, it’s not nerves. It’s something else. Something warmer.

He looks back toward the floor, toward the row of seats where Quinn, Luke, and you are sitting. You’re still watching him. Your hand rests against your heart. Quinn’s arms are crossed, smiling like he knew this would happen all along. Luke is grinning wide, already pointing toward the Devils logo on Jack’s chest.

Jack breathes out. And this time, he smiles.

After the photos and the handshakes, Jack ushered toward the media pit. Questions are thrown at him from every angle about expectations, about his future with the Devils, about being a franchise player. He answers them as best as he can, his gaze flicking toward the crowd every so often, searching for you. When it’s over, the team staff directs him toward the tunnel, and he barely makes it a few steps before he hears someone yell his name.

“Jack!”

He turns just in time to see you barreling toward him, arms outstretched. Jack’s barely able to brace himself before you crash into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms come up automatically, locking around your waist. You’re laughing and crying at the same time, your face buried in his shoulder. Jack breathes out, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You did it,” you whisper.

Jack’s arms tighten around you. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could’ve,” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth. His hands settle at your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of your sweater. His chest is still pounding, but this feels steadier somehow. Grounding.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice cuts in. Jack glances up to see Quinn and Luke standing nearby, Luke practically vibrating with excitement. Quinn’s got that proud but pretending to be casual look on his face.

Luke steps forward first, grinning. “Dude! First overall!” He throws his arms around Jack’s waist, nearly knocking him over. Jack laughs, ruffling Luke’s hair.

“Couldn’t have done it without you either,” Jack says.

Luke pulls back, his smile wide. Quinn rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Congrats, Jack.” He steps in, pulling Jack into a one armed hug and clapping him on the back. “Knew you had it in you.”

Jack’s throat feels tight. He pulls back and looks between Quinn, Luke, and you. His family. His people. His hand finds yours again, his fingers threading through yours like it’s instinct. Your gaze softens, and Jack feels his heartbeat finally settle.

“Come on,” Quinn says, nodding toward the tunnel. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “Let’s go.”

⟡

It’s been a whirlwind since the draft. Jack signed his contract with the Devils two weeks ago, and now he’s leaving to New Jersey for rookie camp. Jack’s flight to New Jersey is early. Too early. You’re still wrapped in blankets on the couch when he stands in the doorway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His Devils hat is pulled low over his eyes, casting a shadow across his face. His mouth pulls into a thin line as he looks at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“I should get going,” Jack says quietly.

You push yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you cross the room toward him. “Are you sure you have everything?”

Jack nods, but his gaze stays on the floor. His hand tightens around the strap of his bag. “Yeah.”

You hesitate for half a second before stepping closer. Your arms wrap around his waist, and Jack exhales sharply as he melts into you. His chin rests on top of your head, and his heartbeat thrums against your cheek.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you murmur.

Jack’s hand slides up your back. “It’s not like we’ve never done long distance before.”

“Yeah, but” You trail off, the words sticking in your throat. It feels different this time. You pull back, your hands lingering on the hem of his hoodie. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big NHL star.”

Jack’s mouth twitches. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

Jack’s eyes soften. He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. “I do.”

You smile, even though your chest feels tight. Jack kisses you softly with a lingering brush of lips  and then pulls back too soon. His hand stays on your waist for an extra second before he steps away, his expression shifting into something steadier, more composed.

“Call me when you land?” you ask.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. “Always.”

You walk him to the door, watching as he disappears down the driveway and into the early morning light. Your chest feels hollow by the time his car pulls away. The silence that follows is heavier than you expect.

You try to keep busy over the next week  spending time with friends, picking up extra shifts but it’s hard to ignore how quiet it feels without Jack around. He calls every night, though, and you fall into a familiar rhythm. Jack fills you in on the details of rookie camp, the fitness tests, the long practices, and the media. He tells you about the other guys, how Nico seems nice, how Bratt’s already chirping at him like they’ve known each other for years. He tells you how much faster the game feels, how much stronger the guys are. You can hear it in his voice, the strain beneath his usual confidence.

“Hard day?” you ask one night, curled up in bed with your phone pressed to your ear.

Jack sighs. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack’s quiet for a long moment. “I just don't know. I feel like I’m playing catch up. Like everyone’s two steps ahead.”

“You’ve barely been there for a few days, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack says. “But it’s not supposed to feel this hard.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.” Jack huffs a soft laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “It’s kinda hard not to.” You’re quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re not gonna figure it out overnight.”

“I know.”

“But you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Jack doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, quietly, “I hope you’re right.” You close your eyes. “I always am.” Jack’s breath crackles over the line. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Jack’s quiet for another moment. “I love you and I miss you .”

Your heart clenches. “I miss and love you too.”

Jack sighs softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

You keep the phone pressed to your ear until the line goes quiet.

Jack calls you after his full day of rookie camp, his voice low and tired through the phone. He sounds exhausted, more than you expected. You’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom, your knees pulled to your chest, the phone pressed to your ear. 

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice scratchy. “Hey,” you say softly. “How was it?” Jack exhales a sharp breath. “Brutal.”  

“What happened?”  

“Fitness testing.” Jack huffs a soft, humorless laugh. “Like the Combine but worse.”  You sit up a little straighter. “Worse?”  

“Longer. Harder.” Jack’s voice dips lower. “I thought I was ready for it, but I don’t know.” He sounds frustrated, and that’s what gets you. Jack rarely admits when something’s hard. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say quietly.  “I don’t know,” Jack says again. “It’s not just the testing. The practices everyone’s so fast. So strong. I’m trying to keep up, but it feels like I’m a step behind.”  

You can almost picture him  sprawled across his bed, running a hand through his hair the way he does when he’s stressed. Your chest tightens. “You’ve been there for what five days?”  

“ a week.”  

“A week” you repeat. “Jack, you need to give yourself some time.”  

“I don’t have time,” Jack says. His voice sharpens, the frustration cracking through. “This is the NHL. Everyone’s watching.” 

You know that’s true you’ve seen the articles, the highlight reels on social media. It’s a lot for anyone especially for Jack, who’s always carried the weight of expectation like it’s part of his DNA.  

“Hey,” you say softly. “You don’t have to figure everything out right away. This isn’t going to be easy it’s not supposed to be. But you wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t handle it.”  

Jack’s quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper: “I don’t know if I can.” You close your eyes, your heart tightening. “Jack.” 

“I’m serious,” Jack says. His voice cracks a little at the edges. “What if I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am?”  

“You are,” you say immediately. “Jack, you’ve been working toward this your whole life. You belong there.”  

“Do I?” 

“Yes,” you say. “And if you can’t believe that yet let me believe it for you.”  Jack doesn’t answer right away. His breath crackles over the line. “What would I do without you?”  You smile faintly, even though your chest aches. “You’d figure it out.”  

“Maybe,” Jack says. “But I’m glad I don’t have to.”  

Jack starts texting you more after that. Sometimes it’s a quick message in the morning on the ice or a random photo of his new locker with his nameplate above it. Sometimes it’s a rant about drills, or a chirp about one of the guys. Jesper seems to be his favorite target. 

Bratt tripped me in practice today. little rat  

What'd you do? you text back.  

chirped him about his hair  

You can’t help but smile. But there are harder messages too.  

Bag skate this morning. Thought I was going to pass out.  

Coach isn’t happy with me.  

Everyone’s so much stronger. 

You know Jack doesn’t say these things to anyone else. With the media, with his teammates he’s steady. Confident. But with you he lets the cracks show. And when he calls you late at night, his voice low and rough, you know that’s when he’s feeling it the most.  

One night, it’s past midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen. Jack.  

“Hey,” you answer, your voice thick with sleep.  “Did I wake you?” Jack asks. “No,” you lie. “What’s wrong?”  

Jack sighs, and you can hear the tension in it. “Nothing.”  You wait. Jack’s quiet for so long you think maybe he’s about to hang up. Then he says, “I just needed to hear your voice.”  

You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. “Rough day?”  

Jack’s breath catches. “Yeah.” 

“What happened?”  

Jack’s quiet for another long moment. “Coach ripped into me.”  

You frown. “Why?”  

“Made a bad play during the scrimmage,” Jack says. “Got caught flat footed on the backcheck. Then I missed the net on a breakaway.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you.”  

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jack says. His voice drops lower, almost shaky. “I’m trying. It’s just everything’s so much faster than I expected. I feel like I’m drowning.”  

“You’re not,” you say quietly. “You’re adjusting.”  

Jack’s breath hitches. “What if I don’t?”  

“You will.”  

Jack doesn’t answer for a long time. You hear rustling on the other end of the line, like he’s lying down. “I miss you,” he says finally.  

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”  

Jack’s voice gets softer. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Just for a little while?”  

You slide down beneath the covers, resting your head against the pillow. “Of course.”  

Jack breathes out. “Thanks.”  

You don’t say anything after that. Jack’s breathing evens out eventually, and you think he’s starting to fall asleep when you hear him murmur, barely audible “Love you.”  

You don’t know if he’s even awake enough to remember saying it. But your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.  

“I love you too,” you whisper.

⟡

Jack’s first game in the NHL is at home, and the crowd is louder than he expected. He steps onto the ice at Prudential Center, the Devils logo bright under the lights. The noise is deafening, the kind of sound that hits you square in the chest  and for a second it’s hard to breathe. His legs feel shaky as he skates through warmups, the ice cutting beneath his skates with every push. The energy is electric, but it’s not enough to drown out the knot in his chest. He knows everyone’s watching him, the first overall pick, the franchise’s future. He tries not to think about it but it’s impossible to ignore the weight of it.

You’re watching from Michigan. The game’s on TV in your room, your laptop balanced on your knees. Jack looks smaller on the screen somehow swallowed up by the bright lights and the size of the arena. He’s wearing number 86, and it still feels surreal seeing it on an NHL jersey. He’s buzzing with nerves  you can tell by the way he’s gripping his stick too tightly during warmups. He’s always done that when he’s nervous.

Jack texts you after warmups while the Zamboni is still clearing the ice. “Starting on the second line. My hands are shaking.”

You smile, already typing back. “You’ve got this. Just play your game.”

Jack’s response comes quickly. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You won’t.” You pause before adding, “But maybe don’t sit next to Nico if you do.”

A minute passes before the dots appear again. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

Jack doesn’t respond, but the small, shaky smile he gives the camera when it passes by his bench tells you he saw it.

The game itself is rough. Jack looks fast, quick on his feet, but the Devils’ offense struggles to keep up. He gets knocked down hard in the first period, bouncing off the boards and coming up wincing. He pushes through it, but you can tell he’s frustrated the way he shakes his head after a shift, the way he skates to the bench with his head down. The Devils lose 4-1, and Jack finishes with a minus-two rating. His line gets hemmed in the defensive zone more than once, and even though it’s just one game, the postgame interviews are already talking about whether he can handle the league’s size and speed.

He calls you after the game, his voice flat. “That sucked.”

“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” you say softly.

“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Jack mutters. He sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I was minus-two. Do you know how bad that is?”

“Jack”

“Everyone’s already talking about it,” he cuts you off. His voice tightens, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I can’t screw this up” He trails off, his breath shaky.

“You’re not screwing anything up,” you say firmly. “It’s one game.”

“It’s not just one game.” Jack exhales through his nose, and you can hear the tension in it. “This is what I’ve been working toward my whole life. And what if I’m not good enough?”

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead to your hand. “Jack. You are good enough. You belong here.”

Jack’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says eventually. But he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

The first few weeks are more of the same. Jack gets pushed around a lot, the physicality wearing on him. He’s getting hit hard, knocked off the puck more than he’s used to. He’s fast, but the guys he’s playing against are bigger, more experienced. He’s trying, you can see it but it’s not coming together the way he wants it to.

Your phone buzzes constantly after games. Jack’s name lights up the screen with texts “Minus-three. Fucking embarrassing.” “I can’t score.” “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You try to reassure him, but the losses are piling up. The Devils are 0-4-2 to start the season, and Jack’s still scoreless. The media’s already running with it  headlines about whether he was overhyped, if he’s too small for the league. Jack tries to brush it off, but you know it’s getting to him.

It’s late one night when he calls you, his voice quiet. “I don’t know how to fix this.” You sit up in bed, clutching the phone to your ear. “You will.” 

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. “I just” He sighs. “I miss you.”

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s breath hitches. “I hate it here,” he says quietly.

Your eyes burn. “I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“You’re not doing this without me,” you whisper.

Jack’s quiet for a long time. His breathing is steady in your ear. Eventually, he says, “I just want to come home.”

You close your eyes, swallowing down the ache in your chest. “I know,” you say softly. “But you can’t.”

Jack doesn’t answer, but you know he’s still there. After a while, his breathing evens out, and you realize he’s fallen asleep on the line. You stay there for a while, the phone pressed to your ear, listening to his quiet breathing.

Jack finally scores his first goal two weeks into the season, a breakaway against Vancouver. Quinn’s on the ice when it happens, and you see the way Quinn hugs him against the glass after the puck crosses the line. Jack looks lighter for a moment, his smile big and bright, but it fades quickly after the game ends. The Devils still lost 5-2.

He calls you that night, and he sounds more tired than happy. “It doesn’t matter if we keep losing,” Jack mutters.

“Yes, it does,” you say. “Jack, you scored. That’s huge.”

Jack sighs. “Yeah.” He’s quiet for a second before adding, “Quinn said you screamed when it went in.”

You laugh. “Maybe.”

Jack’s breath softens. “I miss you.”

Your heart squeezes. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time before he says, “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”

You don’t know how to answer that. So you don’t.

⟡

Jack’s rookie season should’ve been exciting. It should’ve been everything he’s worked for. Instead, it’s November, and the Devils are on a six-game losing streak. Jack’s gone nine games without a goal, and the media’s not holding back. Every headline is brutal. Every post game interview is worse. He’s not smiling as much anymore. He’s quiet when you call, sometimes too tired to even talk. And when you visit, it feels like he’s somewhere else entirely.

The last time you saw him in person was two weeks ago. You’d flown from Michigan to see him play in Newark the first time you’d been able to since the season started. Jack had barely looked at you when you met him outside the locker room. His face was tight, his eyes tired. He’d hugged you, but it was quick. Impersonal. And when you sat with his family during the game, you saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he carried himself on the ice like the weight of it all was pressing down too hard. He’d been the last one off the ice after the loss, his head down, his mouth pulled tight.

He called you that night late, when you were already back at the hotel and apologized. “I just I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more,” Jack had said, his voice low. He’d sounded exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Now, it’s almost midnight again, and you’re staring at your phone, waiting for him to call. He hasn’t. You’ve texted twice with no answer. You know he’s probably at home by now, maybe asleep. Or maybe not. He’s started turning his phone off after games. Less noise, he’d said. Less pressure. But you don’t know if it’s helping.

It’s hard to know what to say when you do talk to him. When he tells you he’s doing fine, even though you can hear it in his voice that he isn’t. When he tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” even though you can see him unraveling.

The next morning, you call him before class. He answers on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You okay?”

Jack sighs. You can hear the sound of him rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah.”

You sit down on the edge of your bed, clutching the phone a little tighter. “Jack”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

“You’re not,” you say gently. “You don’t have to-”

“I said I’m fine,” Jack cuts in. His tone is sharper than you’ve ever heard it.

You go quiet. Jack exhales. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I just don't know.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. You can hear his breathing over the line, steady but heavy. Finally, he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You don’t have to fix it alone.”

Jack doesn’t answer. And after a while, the line goes quiet.

The next time you talk to Jack, it’s after another loss. This time to Toronto. Another night of him leaving the rink without a point. Another night of reporters asking him what’s wrong, why he isn’t producing.

“I’m trying,” Jack says, his voice tight. “I’m trying and it’s not, it's not working.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But it’s not your fault. It’s a team-”

“I don’t care if it’s a team thing,” Jack snaps. “I’m the first pick. I’m supposed to be the one fixing it.”

“Jack-”

“I have to be better.” His voice cracks. “I just I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches. You want to reach through the phone and pull him into you. Hold him until the tension melts away. But you can’t. You’re too far away. And Jack’s already starting to pull back.

“You’re not alone im with you,” you say quietly.

Jack doesn’t answer.

You hear him breathe out. Then the call ends.

The worst part is that you don’t know how to help him. Jack’s not letting you in the way he used to. And you can feel it the distance growing between you, like something fraying at the edges. You want to fix it. You want to be enough to hold him together.But Jack’s starting to slip through your fingers.

⟡

After a while, you notice that not only jack started to drift from you, but also your relationship with him. It starts with the little things.

The missed calls. The delayed replies. The way Jack’s voice sounds a little too thin over the phone, his laugh not quite reaching the places it usually does. He’s tired you can hear it even when he tries to hide it.

At first, you don’t think much of it. Jack’s schedule is brutal, and it’s not like he’s never missed a call before. But then it starts happening more often. You’ll text him after a game Proud of you, call me when you can? and it’ll sit there for hours. Sometimes until the next day. Or he’ll call you late, hours after he said he would, with a rushed apology and a tired “I’m sorry, babe. I just passed out after practice.”

You get it. You do.  He’s in the middle of his rookie season, grinding through the hardest stretch of hockey he’s ever played, and he’s under more pressure than he’ll ever admit. But that doesn’t make it sting any less when you see his name light up your phone after midnight and realize you’ve already given up hope of hearing from him that night. 

Or when you do pick up, and it’s not the Jack you’re used to hearing.

“Hey,” you say softly, curling up under the covers. “You okay?”

Jack’s voice is thin over the line. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He always says that. Just tired. Even when it sounds like more than that.

“You played well tonight,” you offer. “Had that sick pass in the second.”

Jack’s breath crackles faintly through the speaker. “Didn’t matter. We still lost.”

“It’s not on you.”

Jack hums. You can picture the way he’s probably lying there  head buried in the pillow, hand resting over his face, the line of his jaw tight. He’s always been hard on himself. But lately, it's gotten worse.

The games aren’t going well. The media’s been tearing into him —first overall pick and only four goals? The disappointment in the headlines is almost palpable. You’ve stopped reading the articles, but you know Jack hasn’t. He doesn’t talk about it, but you can tell from the way he’s quieter now. The way his texts have dwindled from paragraphs to one word answers. 

The last time you FaceTimed, Jack barely looked at you. He was lying in bed, hair damp from his post-game shower, and you could see the crease between his brows even when he wasn’t talking. You tried to make him smile made a dumb joke about how you’d start training to become the Devils' new enforcer but all you got was a faint chuckle and, “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Tired,” you’d finished for him, and Jack had sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

It’s been like this for a while now. He’s slipping  or maybe you’re the one slipping away. You don’t know how to fix it when Jack’s over 600 miles away, and every conversation feels like trying to grasp sand in your hands the harder you try to hold on, the faster it slips through your fingers.  

You’re curled up in bed now, phone pressed to your ear as Jack’s voice filters through the speaker. 

“It was bad,” Jack says. His voice is quiet. Defeated. “I just I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You sit up a little, pushing back the tight feeling in your chest. “Jack, it’s not you. The whole team’s struggling right now.”

“Yeah, but” He cuts himself off. You can hear the frustrated exhale on the other end. “I should be better. I was the first overall pick  I’m supposed to make a difference.”

“You are making a difference,” you say gently. “It’s your rookie year. No one expects you to carry the team.”

Jack’s silent for a beat too long. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Jack?”

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds distant. “I know.”

You hesitate. “Do you, though?”

His breath hitches. “I just I don’t know. Feels like I’m trying, but nothing’s working. And people are starting to talk, you know? About how maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I’m not”

“Jack,” you cut in. “Stop.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re not a mistake,” you say, because you know that’s what he’s thinking. “You deserve to be there. You worked your ass off for this.”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess,’” you press. “Jack, you”

“I know,” he snaps, and the sharpness of it cuts through the space between you. You freeze, swallowing the knot in your throat. Jack exhales shakily. His voice softens. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

You force a small smile even though he can’t see it. “You’re allowed to be tired.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes it.

Another stretch of silence presses down between you. You wait for Jack to fill it, but he doesn’t.

“You want me to stay on the phone with you?” you ask quietly.

Jack’s quiet for a second. “No its okay”

“I’ll stay” 

“Okay.”

So you stay. Jack doesn’t say much after that. You can hear the rustle of his comforter as he shifts around, settling into bed. His breathing starts to even out. You stay awake longer than you probably should, listening to the soft sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, wondering how much longer you’ll be able to reach him like this.

Because lately, even when he’s right there, yet he feels so far away.

⟡

It’s been months of missed calls, delayed texts, and half-hearted conversations. Jack’s always tired. Or busy. Or distracted. And when you do talk, it’s like he’s only halfway there like some part of him is already pulling away. You’ve tried not to read into it, tried to convince yourself it’s just the pressure of his rookie season, that things will settle once he finds his rhythm. But deep down, you know better. It’s not just hockey. It’s him. It’s you. It’s the quiet space growing between you, the way it stretches wider with every unanswered text and every empty conversation.

So you book a flight to New Jersey because you need to know if this is still something you can save or if you lost him completely

DAY ONE  

The cab ride from the airport to Jack’s apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The city outside the window passes in a blur of gray and headlights, but you don’t really see it. Your phone sits heavy in your lap, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of the passing streetlights. You tap your thumb against the side of it like you're expecting a message that you know isn’t coming. Jack texted you earlier to confirm he’d be home when you arrived, but that was three hours ago. No follow-up. No “Can’t wait to see you.” No little heart emoji like he used to send.  

It’s not that he’s ignoring you  at least, not outright. He’s busy, you’ve told yourself a hundred times over the last few weeks. Rookie season is demanding. New city, new team, new pressure. He’s adjusting. You should understand that. And you do. You swear you do. But understanding it doesn’t make the silence feel any less heavy.  

When the cab pulls up in front of Jack’s building, you hesitate for a second before stepping out. You’re not sure why  it’s not like you’ve never been here before but the weight sitting low in your stomach makes it hard to breathe. The driver sets your bag on the curb, and you force yourself to pick it up, shoulders tensing under the weight of it as you walk toward the entrance.  

Jack opens the door when you knock. He’s in a plain Devils hoodie and sweatpants, his hair damp like he just showered. He smiles, but it’s thin, barely reaching his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is soft, like he's already tired.  

You smile, forcing brightness into your voice. “Hey.”  

Jack leans down to kiss you, but it’s brief. Quick. Like he’s already pulling away before it starts. His hand finds the small of your back and guides you into the apartment, but it drops as soon as the door closes behind you.  

The apartment looks the same cleaner than you expected, probably because Ellen came to visit last week but it feels off. Like someone came through and rearranged all the furniture just enough to make you notice. Jack’s shoes are in a neat row by the door. There’s a half empty coffee mug sitting on the counter. His phone is face down on the couch.  

Jack sits down on the couch, leaving a noticeable gap beside him. You sit too, trying to close it, but he doesn’t shift toward you.  

“So,” you start, your voice too bright, too forced, “how was practice today?”  

“Fine.”  

Your stomach twists. “Just fine?”  

Jack shrugs, eyes fixed on the muted TV. “Yeah.”  

You watch him for a second, the sharp line of his jaw and the way his hand rests against his knee. Normally, he'd have his arm around you by now. Normally, you’d be tangled together and he’d be rambling about plays and drills and how Nico wouldn’t stop chirping him today.  

But he’s quiet. Detached.  

And you’re hyper aware of the space between you.  

Jack reaches for the remote and starts flipping through channels. His brows furrowed in concentration, but he’s not really watching anything. It’s like his body is here, but the rest of him is somewhere else.  

“Hungry?” he asks after a minute.  

“Yeah, I could eat.”  

“Cool.” He stands. “I’ll order something.”  

And that’s it. He disappears into the kitchen without asking what you want. A minute later, you hear the soft murmur of his voice on the phone.   

You sit there, your heart beating loud in your ears, and wonder why it feels like you’ve already lost him.  

Jack comes back a few minutes later and drops onto the couch, his knee brushing against yours for half a second before he shifts away.  

“Food should be here in, like, twenty minutes,” he says.  

You nod. “okay”  

More silence. The TV hums in the background, the flicker of light reflecting off Jack’s face. You glance at him, hoping he’ll look over at you, but his gaze stays fixed on the screen. His hand is resting between his knees, his fingers pulling at a loose thread in the fabric of his sweatpants.  

You clear your throat. “Did you, um talk to Quinn today he was asking me about you?”  

Jack’s mouth tightens. “Yeah.”  

“And?”  

“He’s good.”  

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. The seconds stretch out between you, long and tense and uncomfortable.  

“Jack.” You lean toward him, lowering your voice. “What’s going on?” Jack’s jaw twitches. “Nothing.”  

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”  

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long week.”  

You search his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint crease in his forehead and you know he’s not lying. But you also know he’s not telling you the whole truth.   

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you say, your voice soft.  

Jack’s gaze flickers toward you, and for a second, you see it  the familiar warmth, the quiet vulnerability you’ve always known how to reach. His eyes soften, and he looks like he might actually say something.  

But then the buzzer for the front door sounds, and the moment evaporates.  

Jack stands quickly. “That’s the food.”  

You watch him cross the room, feeling the distance stretch wider with every step.  

He comes back with a brown takeout bag, setting it on the coffee table before sitting down. He opens the bag and pulls out containers of food  sushi, not your favorite  and hands you a pair of chopsticks without looking at you. 

You stare down at the food. “Did you know what I wanted?”  

Jack hesitates. “I just ordered something quick.”  

Your chest tightens. Jack always knows what you want. He knows you like avocado rolls, not spicy tuna. He knows you like extra soy sauce on the side and that you don’t like wasabi. But tonight, it’s like he didn’t even think about it.  

You pick at the sushi, appetite gone. Jack eats quietly, his eyes back on the TV. The sound of the game commentator fills the air, too loud, pressing into your skull.  

After a few minutes, Jack stands and starts cleaning up. He takes your barely touched container and tosses it in the trash without a word.  

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“Oh. Okay.”  

Jack hesitates in the doorway. His eyes flick toward you, and for a second, you think he might come back, sit down, pull you into his arms, tell you he’s just tired and that everything is fine.  

But he doesn’t. He disappears down the hall, and a minute later, you hear the sound of the shower running.  

You sit there, hands clasped in your lap, listening to the water hit the tile. Your heart feels too big and too small at the same time, pressing against the walls of your chest.   

Jack’s phone buzzes on the table, and you glance at it. A text from Nico lights up the screen:  

Good skate today. 

 You stare at the message for a long time. 

The shower runs in the background, and you sit alone on the couch, feeling the emptiness stretch out around you.

DAY TWO

Jack sleeps with his back to you.  

It’s not the first time, but it feels different tonight. Final. His side of the bed feels miles away, the sheets cool and untouched where his body should be. You lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of his breathing. It’s shallow, restless. Every few minutes, he shifts, the mattress dipping under his weight.  

You think about reaching for him, curling up into his side like you always do. Your hand twitches under the blanket, fingers itching to brush over his back, to anchor yourself to the steady rhythm of his breathing. But something stops you. Fear, maybe or just the quiet certainty that if you reach for him, he’ll pull away.  

So you stay still, the space between you cold and unforgiving.  

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night to find him half hanging off the edge of the bed, his face turned toward the wall. His arm is curled beneath his head, his breathing uneven. You watch the rise and fall of his back, the way his shoulders tense even in sleep. He’s not resting, not really.   

You swallow hard and sit up slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. For a second, you think about touching him, coaxing him back toward you. But you don’t. You can’t.   

In the morning, Jack wakes up first. You know this because you hear him moving around the apartment while you lie there, eyes closed, hoping he’ll come back to bed. He doesn’t.  

Instead, you hear the distant sound of water running in the bathroom, the clink of glass in the kitchen. The low hum of the TV. You press your face into the pillow and try to breathe through the tightness in your chest.  

When you finally get up, Jack’s sitting at the kitchen counter with a protein shake. He’s already dressed in workout gear Devils issued shorts and a long-sleeve shirt that fits snug around his arms. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends. He glances up when you enter the room.  

“Morning,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you meant.  

“Hey.”  

You sit across from him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Jack’s gaze flickers toward you briefly, then drops back down to his protein shake. He spins the cup slowly in his hands, condensation trailing down the side.  

You try to find his eyes. “Sleep okay?”  

Jack nods, distracted. He taps his thumb against the edge of the cup. “Yeah.”  

“You sure?”  

“Mmhmm.” His gaze darts toward the window.  

You glance at the clock on the microwave. “What time’s practice?”  

“Ten.”  

“You want to grab coffee after?”  

Jack hesitates. His shoulders tighten. “I don’t know. We’ve got media stuff later.”  

“Oh.”  

You feel stupid for asking.  

Jack stands and rinses out his cup in the sink. His back is to you, but you see the tension in his shoulders. He’s holding it all in  the pressure, the frustration, the weight of everything this year has asked of him. Normally, he’d tell you about it. He’d talk through it, let you hold it with him for a little while.  

But now it feels like he’s trying to keep the distance intact.  

“You okay?” you ask quietly.  

“Yeah.”  

“Jack.”  

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “It’s just a lot right now.”  

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you.  

Jack’s hand curls over the edge of the counter. His knuckles turn white for half a second before he exhales and grabs his keys from the hook by the door.  

“I’ll see you later, okay?” His tone is light  too light. Like he’s trying to make this feel normal.  

You sit up straighter. “We could go out tonight. Dinner or something.”  

Jack pauses with his hand on the handle. His eyes flick toward you, guarded. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”  

Then he’s gone.  

The door clicks shut behind him, and the quiet of the apartment closes in around you.  

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where he stood. The sunlight spills in through the thin curtains, cutting pale lines across the hardwood floor. You think about the way he used to kiss you in the mornings, sleepy and warm, his hand curled over the back of your neck. You think about the way he used to tug you into his chest after a restless night, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your hair.  

And then you think about last night about the empty side of the bed and the quiet wall of his back facing you.  

Your phone buzzes on the table. You grab it quickly, your heart leaping in your chest. But it’s not Jack. It’s a text from quinn  

"Hope you’re having a good time! How’s Jack?" 

You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back:  

"Good. Everything’s good." 

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.   

You sit there for a while longer, the phone still in your hand, before pushing yourself to your feet. You grab the half-empty protein shake Jack left on the counter and dump it down the sink. The hum of the refrigerator fills the silence.  

It’s only nine o’clock, but it feels later. Your eyes drift toward the bedroom  the sheets still rumpled from sleep and you wonder if you should crawl back into bed and wait for him to come home.  

But you know better.  

Instead, you curl up on the couch and pull the blanket over your legs. Jack’s sweatshirt is draped over the arm of the couch, and you pull it onto your lap, bunching the sleeves in your hands. It smells like his laundry detergent and something warmer, more familiar.  

you press your face into the fabric and close your eyes, trying to remember the last time he held you like he meant it.  

You think about how he used to look at you and really look at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.  

But that was months ago. Now, when Jack looks at you, it’s like he’s looking through you. Or worse like he’s already decided what happens next.  

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Jack.  

“Practice ran long. Gonna be late.” 

You type out a quick response  "Okay."  but don’t hit send right away.  

Instead, you sit there with the message glowing on the screen, wondering when it started feeling like this. Like you’re holding onto something that’s already slipping away.

DAY THREE

It was worse the next day. The air felt thicker, like it was weighing down every conversation. Jack seemed distracted, his gaze always drifting toward his phone or the TV. When you asked if he wanted to grab lunch, he hesitated for a second before saying, "Yeah, sure," like he was doing you a favor.

At lunch, he kept glancing around, not meeting your eyes. You watched him scroll through his phone between bites of his sandwich. You tapped your nails against the table.

"Jack."

"Hmm?" His eyes didn’t lift from his phone.

"Can you put that down?"

He sighed but set the phone face down. "Okay."

You wanted to ask if he even wanted you here. You wanted to ask why he wasn’t looking at you like he used to, why you felt like a ghost in his apartment. But you swallowed it all down and smiled when Jack forced another conversation about hockey that you could barely focus on.

That night, he sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone again while you sat behind him. You reached out, resting a hand on his back. He tensed.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

"You don’t seem like it."

"I’m fine, okay?" His tone was sharp. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

You stared at the empty space he left behind.

DAY FOUR

You woke up before Jack.  

He was lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, hair sticking up in every direction. You watched him for a moment, chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful like this like the Jack you used to know. The Jack who used to roll over and pull you into his arms the second he woke up.  

You shifted closer, brushing your hand over his back. His skin was warm under your fingertips. He stirred, groaning softly into the pillow.  

"Morning," you whispered.  

Jack’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at you sleepily, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Morning."  

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. He didn’t react. Just sat up and ran a hand through his hair.  

"What time is it?"  

"Almost nine."  

Jack nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I should get going soon."  

"Going where?I thought you had today off"  

Jack stood, stretching. "I do, I'm just going to go workout with some of the guys."  

"Oh." You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist. "Can I come?"  

Jack paused, looking at you over his shoulder. "I mean it’s just going to be boring."  

"I don’t care."  

Jack hesitated. "I think we’re just gonna grab lunch after. Probably end up hanging out at Nico’s."  

You bit the inside of your cheek. "So you don’t want me there?"  

Jack’s gaze darted to the floor. "It’s not that."  

"Then what is it?"  

Jack sighed. "I don’t know. Just feels like a guys' thing, you know?"  

You swallowed. "Right."  

Jack’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, checking the screen. A faint smile tugged at his mouth.  

"Who is it?" you asked.  

“Nico," Jack said, texting back quickly. He tossed his phone onto the bed, already moving toward the bathroom.  

You sat there for a moment, heart sinking.  

"I’ll be back later," Jack called over his shoulder.  

"Cool," you murmured. But Jack had already closed the door behind him.  

You sat there for a long time, listening to the shower running.  

When Jack got back that afternoon, you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. He walked in, tossed his keys onto the counter, and sat down across from you. He scrolled through his phone without saying anything.  

You watched him for a moment.  

"How was it?" you asked.  

"Hmm?"  

"Your workout."  

Jack shrugged. "Good."  

"Anything else?"  

Jack didn’t look up. "Nope."  

Your jaw tightened.  

You shifted closer, resting a hand on his arm. "Jack."  

He tensed. "What?"  

You hated how sharp his voice sounded. Like you were annoying him.  

"Do you want to do something tonight?" you asked quietly.  

Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know. I’m kind of tired."  

"Oh."  

Jack’s gaze flicked toward you. "What?"  

"Nothing," you said quickly, even though it wasn’t nothing.  

Jack’s phone buzzed again. He picked it up without hesitation. You sat there, heart sinking as he smiled at the screen. He didn’t even notice the way your hand fell away from his arm.  

And that’s when it hit you.  

You weren’t the person he wanted to talk to anymore.  

You weren’t the person who made him smile like that anymore.  

You took a breath, swallowing hard. "Jack."  

"Hmm?"  

You sat up straighter, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. "Do you even want me here?"  

Jack’s head jerked toward you, brows furrowing. "What kind of question is that?"  

"You’re barely looking at me." Your voice cracked. "You don’t talk to me. When you do, it feels like you’re trying to get through it so you can go back to your phone. Just say it if you don’t want me here."  

Jack’s jaw tightened. "Jesus, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is."  

"A bigger deal?" you echoed. Your voice sharpened. "Jack, I flew to new jersey to see you. I’m trying so hard to hold this together, but you’re not even meeting me halfway. If you don’t want this anymore, just"  

"I didn’t ask you to come."  

You froze.  

Jack’s eyes widened, but the words were already out there.  

Your heart hammered in your chest. "What?"  

"I didn’t ask you to come," he repeated, softer this time. His gaze fell to the floor. "You decided to."  

You blinked hard, your throat tightening painfully. "Wow."  

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "I didn’t mean it like that"  

"You did."  

Jack’s mouth opened, but no words came out.  

You stood up, shaking. "I can't, I can't do this anymore."  

Jack’s head snapped toward you. "What does that mean?"  

"It means I’m done." Your voice broke, but you kept going. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this. If you’re not going to try, then why am I even here?"  

Jack’s eyes darkened. "So that’s it? You’re giving up?"  

You laughed bitterly. "You gave up first."  

Jack’s mouth twisted. "Right. So now it’s my fault?"  

"You know what?" you said, your breath shaking. "Yeah. It is."  

Jack stood up, his eyes hard now. "Fine. If you want to go, then go."  

"That’s it?" You took a step toward him, tears blurring your vision. "You’re not even going to try to stop me?"  

Jack’s eyes flashed. "What do you want me to say? That I miss you? That I love you? You already know that, but it’s not enough, is it?"  

"It’s not enough if you’re not going to show it!" you shot back. "You say you love me, but you act like I’m just here. Like I don’t matter."  

Jack’s expression darkened. "Yeah? Well, maybe you don’t."  

You sucked in a sharp breath.  

Jack’s face paled instantly. "I—"  

"No." You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "You said it. And you know what? Maybe you’re right."  

"Don’t twist this"  

"I’m not twisting anything! I’m done!" Your voice cracked, but you held your ground. "I’m not going to sit here and beg for you to care about me. I deserve better than that."  

Jack’s jaw flexed.  

Your breath hitched. You waited for him to take it back to tell you to stay. But Jack just stood there, eyes stormy, hands clenched into fists at his sides.  

You nodded slowly. "Okay."  

You grabbed your bag from the floor. Jack didn’t say anything as you walked toward the door. Your hand trembled as you opened it.  

You hesitated. Just for a second.  

"Bye, Jack," you whispered.  

Jack didn’t reply.  

You closed the door behind you.  

The flight home feels like a blur. You don’t cry at least not yet  but the numbness sets in as soon as the plane takes off. Jack didn’t text you before you boarded. He didn’t call. He didn’t say anything after the door shut behind you.   

You stare out the window, watching the clouds blur beneath you, but your chest feels hollow. Four years. Gone in a single weekend. Your friendship since you were 10 of growing up together, of loving each other through every awkward phase and milestone  shattered in one conversation.  

You scroll through your phone without really seeing it. His contact sits at the top of your recent messages, the last one marked as read. I’m sorry. He hasn’t sent anything since.   

And honestly, you don’t expect him to.  

Your phone vibrates, and for half a second your heart leaps. But it’s just your mom, checking in. You let the message sit unopened and slide your phone facedown on the tray table.  

When you get home, everything feels wrong. Your room looks the same, but it’s too quiet. No FaceTime calls from Jack lighting up your phone. No goodnight texts. No “Miss you” or “Wish you were here.” The absence is deafening.   

You lie in bed that night, scrolling through old pictures, ones from Vancouver, from Michigan, from all those summers at the lake house. Jack’s smile frozen in time. Your hand in his. Quinn and Luke in the background, laughing at something Jack had said.   

Your chest tightens.  

You think about how easy it used to be how you could sit in silence for hours and still feel connected. How you could tell what Jack was thinking just from a look. How his hand would instinctively find yours without either of you thinking about it.   

But somewhere along the way, you both stopped reaching for each other. Mostly him. 

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Quinn.  

“You okay?” 

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you don’t know how to answer that.

“Yeah. Just tired.”  

Quinn’s reply comes quickly. “Jack didn’t mean it.”   

Your breath catches. A hollow feeling sinks deeper into your chest.   

You don’t answer.  

Because the worst part is maybe he did.

[plutoslastwords]

More baby norris please. What about her having an innocent baby crush on one of the drivers (Charles, George,..) and Labdo being an overprotectiv dad.

new favourite

lando norris x daughter!reader, charles leclerc x norris!daughter!reader, (slight) carlos sainz x norris!daughter!reader

summary: baby norris finds a new paddock crush, lando is less than pleased.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.2k

a/n: sorry i've been mia for the past week.... but i'm back :DD hope you guys enjoy, thank you so so so so so so so much for 200 followers, i am genuinely lost for words, i love you all! pls feel free to send in any requests xx

~~~

Though they wouldn’t say that they are each other’s best friends, the Formula 1 drivers do end up spending quite a lot of time together. 

Whether it be at races, events or even travelling together, no matter how different some sort of bond is created between them all. They are the people who really understand each other, the only ones who know exactly what they’re all going through.

This means that being the daughter of Lando Norris, you also know the other drivers fairly well. 

Lando doesn’t mind this at all, honestly it’s great. It’s an excuse to put some babysitting jobs onto his other drivers, and they can’t say anything about it because just look at your face!

He does mind, however, when a certain Monaquese driver manages to woo his perfect, precious angel. 

It starts at the Monaco Grand Prix. You’re holding your daddy’s hand, toddling through the paddock, occasionally pointing at something that you find especially exciting, whilst Lando talks to a media crew about his thoughts and feelings for the weekend. 

Your big grins grows impossibly bigger when you see your favourite Uncle Carlos! You giggle gleefully, detaching yourself from Lando and sprinting as fast as you can to Carlos’ awaiting arms.

“Chiquita!! I’ve missed you!” He spins you around in the air, whilst you carry on giggling. “Why don’t I take you into Ferrari, hm? You think your daddy would mind?”

You shake your head, you don’t care if your daddy does mind, you just want to spend time with Uncle Carlos.

You had never been in the Ferrari garage before, and you probably stick out like a sore thumb, dressed in a little pink dress with a little papaya Mclaren cap atop your head. Some of the mechanics give you and Carlos some odd looks, but eventually connect the dots in their heads. 

“Carlos, who’s this?” A new, strange voice asks. Carlos turns and so you do too, the strange man reminds you of Carlos a bit, but not really. He has pretty eyes. And pretty hair. You shove your face into Carlos’ shoulder, giggling quietly to yourself about the strange pretty man.

Carlos chuckles at your antics, “This is Lando’s little one,” He introduces you, “Chiquita, are you going to say hi to Charles?” He strokes your hair. 

You shake your head, still giggling. You poke your head up to look at the pretty man again, he’s smiling at you now, his smile is pretty as well. You shove your face back into Carlos’ neck.

“Baby, say hi to Charles, hm?” 

You give a slight, shy wave, barely lifting your head from its sanctuary in Carlos’ neck. The pretty man coos at you. 

“Hello, cherie…” You like his voice as well, he has a nice voice. You giggle. “She’s a bit shy?” He asks Carlos.

“She’s normally quite excited, what’s up with you, hm?” You just shake your head again, embarrassed at showing your face in front of the pretty man. “Is Charles scaring you, chiquita?”

You shake your head, not wanting to admit anything to Carlos. 

Before he can say anything in response, however, someone calls his name saying that he is needed urgently somewhere in the garage.

“Oh god, I should go. Charles, can you bring her back to Lando?”

Charles nods, and accepts you when Carlos passes you to him. You like the feeling of being in pretty man’s arms. You put your head on his shoulder, watching everything going on behind him. 

“Okay, cherie, we’re gonna get you back to your daddy now, does that sound okay?” 

You nod in response, just content with being in his hold, no matter what you’re doing. 

“Can’t believe I haven’t met you before, hm? Gotta get to know you, what’s your favourite colour, cherie?” 

“Pink…” you giggle, excited to be talking about your favourite things with the pretty man.

On the journey from the Ferrari garage to the Mclaren garage the pretty man continues asking you questions in order to get to know you. You become quite fond of him, he has a little dog called Leo who he has said that you can meet. 

By the time you get to the Mclaren garage, you don’t want to let go. But soon, enough Charles spots Lando and begins heading over. 

“Oh hello, my angel! How was Ferrari?” Lando coos, reaching out to take you from Charles, but you refuse, clinging onto him like a little crab.

“Baby.. c’mon, we gotta let Charles get back, okay? Come to daddy, my love…” You shake your head, still refusing. You want to stay with the nice, pretty man. 

“It’s okay, cherie, I will see you again soon, okay? I promise.” Charles hands you over to your dad, which you begrudgingly accept, blushing at his words.

Lando notices this, sending Charles an odd look. He gives him a short goodbye, before taking you to his driver’s room, where you are going to stay whilst he goes out for a practise session.

“You liked Charles then…?”

You just giggle, embarrassed again that people have noticed your slight infatuation with the pretty man.

“Baby… Charles is a boy, boys are stinky!!”

“Charles smells nice, daddy!” 

He sighs at that. He knows that there’s no winning with this, and he hates it. No matter how silly it may be, his tiny, perfect, angel daughter has a crush and he’s not happy. 

“No, darling, Charles is a boy, boys aren’t nice, okay?”

You frown at that, Charles was very nice to you…

The conversation ends there, Lando placing you in his driver’s room, with a member of the team to look after you, giving you a sweet kiss on the top of the head before he goes out to practise.

***

The next time that you get to see Charles is at Silverstone. You’re walking through the paddock with your Grandma and Grandpa when you see him.

You screech and toddle over to him. He gives you a similar grin, scooping you up into his arms.

“Salut, cherie! It has been so long!” He hugs you close, taking you into the Ferrari hospitality with him.

When his parents tell him that you have gone off with Charles, Lando is not happy. He marches to the Ferrari hospitality.

“Baby, it’s time to go now, okay?” He says, leaving no room for arguments as he grabs you from Charles’ arms.

You kick up a bit of a fuss, whining in protest and flailing your limbs about, but your dad’s mind is made up and you’re not strong enough to go against it. 

“Angel, I thought I told you that Charles was a meanie boy, hm?” He berates, with no real malice, as he walks you back to Mclaren.

“But Charlie is nice, daddy!”

“No, baby, all boys are mean and you will never ever ever like them, okay? You promise daddy? Daddy will look after you, forever and ever”

“I promise…” as much as you love Charles, in the end there is no one that you love quite as much as your daddy..

“Good girl, daddy loves you more than anything.”

~~~

a/n: tysm for reading!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! send in any requests or if you just want a chat xx

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika idea? Modern AU. Sevika and Reader (mostly reader because Sevika just grumbles about it) decide to take Jinx and Isha to an amusement park for the first time. Sevika is..... okay with it? But it's not her thing..

..That is until they get there and Sevika goes into full dad mode when she rides a rollercoaster with the two and now she can't stop because she wants to ride everything with them.

GOD GOD GOD i love fluffy fluffy fluff like this omg

men and minors dni

the girls sit you down one evening, both of them wearing determined looks and wearing one of sevika's old ties around their neck. jinx does most of the talking while isha hands out brochures and drawings.

"ladies, thank you for coming to this meeting." she greets. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you both forced us to come sit on the couch."

"shush." jinx flips sevika off quickly, before clearing her throat and continuing. "you may be wondering why we've asked you here today--"

"dragged." sevika corrects.

"hush!" jinx stomps her foot. isha glares at sevika. you elbow her. she sighs.

"fine, go."

"we have a business proposition for you." jinx announces. "in exchange for a month's allowance, we'd like you to take us to, drum roll please..."

isha pats her lap, giggling as you join in.

"randy's rollercoasters!" isha does a little twirl for emphasis.

sevika groans. you chuckle. isha hands you two brochures for randy's rollercoasters.

"now, hold on a second." you cut in. "we give you an allowance in exchange for your chores. you're telling me you'll clean the toilets without any pay? all month?" you ask.

jinx and isha nod, and isha crosses over her heart as a promise.

sevika grunts beside you. "and what are we supposed to do there while you two go on all the rides? stand in the hot sun and wait around all day?"

"oh, come on, sev! you can ride with us!"

"fuck no!"

"they sell beer." you mutter under your breath, pointing to the drinks and food section of your brochure. "we could just get tipsy and make out in dark corners while the kids ride."

jinx sticks her tongue out at the suggestion, but sevika seems intrigued. isha's blinking up at both of you with her hands folded under her chin, her gold eyes wide and watery as she waits for an answer.

sevika sighs, then groans. "fine."

the girls burst into cheers.

that's what you think will happen-- that the girls will have a great time and you and sevika will make the most of your day loitering around the park.

but then you get there, and isha gets spooked seeing how big the rollercoasters really are, and you and sevika promise to go on her first ride with her to show her it's safe.

but something about the thrill and watching her girls squeal with fear and excitement makes sevika all giddy and excited after the first ride.

it's adorable.

"have you never been on a roller coaster before, babe?"

"it's been almost twenty years!" she laughs, hoisting isha onto her shoulders. "okay, which one are we hitting next?" she asks jinx. isha squeals with excitement. you pout.

"we!? what about me?! i'll get sick if i go on another one of those rides."

sevika turns to you with a pout. your heart swells in your chest.

"c'mon, baby, please? just a few more rides, and i'm yours for the day. i just wanna do the log flume. and maybe the one with the loops."

"and the death dropper." jinx adds on. sevika nods.

"yeah, and the death dropper."

you examine your wife, laughter bubbling up in your lungs as you take in the excited, childlike glimmer in her eye. she's just as excited as isha and jinx. "you kids go have fun. if you need me, i'll be by the funnel cakes and beer." you say, shooing your family away toward the rides.

sevika grins, kissing your cheek and taking off with jinx at her side, isha cackling as they run toward the next ride.

so, you don't get to make out with your wife much. but you get a whole bunch of fun pictures of your family on the rides, a lot of cotton candy, and three million watt smiles from your girls and wife every time they come off a ride.

when the day winds down and the girls get tired, you walk around the carnival booths on the park grounds, letting isha and jinx play games and win bears.

sevika's got an arm slung around your shoulders, a smile on her lips. "'m sorry i abandoned you today." she says. you laugh.

"are you kidding? i had a blast today. getting to watch you three have all that fun, snacking and drinking to my heart's content-- we should do this every weekend." you suggest.

isha and jinx both perk up at that. sevika cackles. "no! no, we can not afford that. but, we can come back for isha's birthday." she suggests.

isha wins you a teddy bear with one of the darts games, then sevika gets jealous and tries to win you one of the strength testers. only, she hits the hammer so hard it's handle snaps in half, and the attendant has to close the stand for the night.

you buy the girls slushies then pile into the ferris wheel.

the sun is setting on the horizon, lighting up the little cart the four of you sit in. isha and jinx are chattering to themselves with their faces pressed against the glass, giving you and sevika some semblance of privacy on your little seat.

"you really had fun today?" sevika asks. you smile and nod.

"it was amazing. i love hearing you all laugh like that. especially you." you say.

sevika grins and swoops in to kiss you, just as your cart reaches the top of the wheel.

the girls 'ooh' and 'aah' and the height and the sights, and then they both groan when they turn around and find you two kissing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[mulswriting]

rafe!bf x femreader!gf summary: after discovering she’s pregnant, y.n’s excitement is overshadowed by fear. she remembers rafe admitting he’s not ready for fatherhood and hides the darker parts of their relationship from her friends. overwhelmed, she leaves alone, crying on the beach, unsure if rafe will ever change. warnings: swearing, mention of drug use, alcohol use, implied domestic abuse, very angsty, pregnancy, emotional distress, crying, and toxic relationship dynamics.

a/n: hii, i'm new here! lmk if u like it and want pt 2!

you wake up and feel the empty space beside you. the faint sound of the shower tells you that rafe is in the bathroom. closing your eyes, you shift onto his side of the bed, inhaling his lingering scent.

"y/n, you up, baby?" he steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

yawning, you glance over at him. "hey, good morning." he walks over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead "good morning, beautiful."

oh, he must be in a good mood today, you think to yourself before smiling. "you smell good. what are your plans today?"

"thank you, baby. going over to barry's for taking care some stuff. gonna be a long day," he says while getting dressed.

"oh, okay. i think i'll just stay home and read some books." you respond.

"good. see you later, y/n." ____________________________________________________________

the afternoon sun filters through the curtains as you turn another page of your book. you’ve been trying to distract yourself, but the words blur together, your mind unable to focus. with a sigh, you close the book and stretch, but as you do, a strange feeling washes over you—your stomach feels off, a mix of nausea and unease.

at first, you brush it off, blaming it on hunger or maybe just boredom. but then, realization creeps in like a cold chill down your spine. wait… when was my last period?

you quickly sit up, counting back the days in your head. one week… two… three.

three weeks late.

your heart pounds. no. no way.

without wasting another second, you grab your things and rush out the door, heading straight to sarah, kie, and cleo’s place. you don’t even think about texting them beforehand—you just need answers.

when you arrive, breathless and slightly panicked, your friends immediately pick up on your energy.

“what’s wrong?” kie asks, brows furrowed.

you hesitate before blurting out, “i think i might be pregnant.”

their eyes widen in shock, but without a second thought, cleo grabs her keys. “come on, we’re getting tests.”

the next hour feels agonizing. the three of them wait anxiously outside the bathroom while you sit on the closed toilet seat, staring at the sticks lined up on the counter. one by one, the results appear.

positive.

positive.

positive.

the room spins.

you step out, barely able to say the words before sarah, kie, and cleo erupt in cheers.

“oh my god!” sarah beams, pulling you into a hug. “you’re having a baby!”

“this is crazy!” kie grins. “but, like, in a good way.”

cleo nudges you playfully. “rafe’s gonna lose his mind, man. he’s gonna be a dad.”

they’re all so happy. but you’re not.

you try to force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

sarah notices first. “wait… why don’t you look happy?”

you swallow hard, looking down at your hands. you want to tell them. you really do. but how could you? they don’t know everything. they don’t know about the nights rafe came home drunk, or the times he used just enough to take the edge off. they don’t know that his temper—though mostly controlled—sometimes flares, and in rare, awful moments, he’s lost it on you. they don’t know that on his worst days, when frustration and exhaustion pushed him over the edge, he had struck you. it wasn’t often, but once was already too much.

and yet… there’s also the rafe they do know. the one who kisses you awake in the mornings. the one who walks with you by the beach and talk about a lot of stuff. the one who takes you on late-night drives just to get your favorite snacks. the one who wraps his arms around you like you’re the only thing grounding him.

you don’t want them to see that version of him—the broken one. so, you keep it inside.

instead, you whisper, “i overheard rafe say he’s not ready to be a dad. that he’s still too… fucked up.”

their smiles falter, concern replacing excitement. “oh, y/n…”

kie rubs your back, while sarah takes your hand. “you don’t know for sure how he’ll react, though,” she says gently. “maybe he was just scared in the moment.”

cleo nods. “yeah, he loves you, y/n. that much we do know.”

you force a small smile, appreciating their comfort even if it doesn’t ease the fear in your chest.

after a little more reassurance, you thank them and say goodbye. you tell them you’re heading home, but that’s a lie.

instead, you go to your favorite spot by the beach.

by the time you get there, the sky is already dark, waves crashing softly against the shore. you sit on the cool sand, wrapping your arms around your knees, letting the night air sting your skin.

reaching for your phone, you realize it’s dead.

shit.

you were going to text rafe, tell him where you were. but now, you’re completely alone.

the weight of everything crashes down at once.

tears slip down your cheeks, silent at first. but then, a sob escapes, and before you know it, you’re crying—deep, gut-wrenching sobs that shake your whole body.

you’re terrified.

you love rafe, but what if he’s right? what if he’s not ready?

and worse—what if he never will be?

so, you sit there, crying under the night sky, feeling more alone than ever.

[quixotical-lymbo]

I saw that your requests were open and rushed over here as quick as I could!

I would LOVE to see more D-16 and Orion Pax, maybe a poly relationship of how they would act as a dynamic. Reader would be whatever you'd like for them to be and a miner as well, maybe they are the balance for the two to keep them in check? Can be fluff or angst, I'm not picky!

Im so excited to see what you do! Keep up the amazing work!

Pairing: D-16 x Orion Pax x mech!Reader Rating: SFW-ish Summary: When a balanced duo meets a like-minded bot like them, how will this shake the dynamic between the newly formed trio? Warnings/Tags: Pre-canon, does this count as spoilers?, angst, fluff, romantic gesture(s), oil baths, secret relationship(s), Elita-1 cameo, Orion gives you a nickname, reader is an archivist (lmao WAS an archivist).  Word Count: 1600+ words 

How did you three meet?

It was a normal day sorting through the records and making sure everything was in its proper place. You adjusted your spectacles before moving the box from your hip into two servos. The corridor you were walking in was long, empty, and cold. Not a single spark in sight and you preferred it that way. 

As you pressed a button, the doors to a room slid open and you carried the box inside. Whistling a small tune, you placed the box on a table and paused when something clicked.

Looking over your shoulder, you found two pairs of optics staring at you. One as blue as the sky, the other as bright as the sun. 

"....hey?" 

"AAAAAAHHHHHH-MFPH!" 

First Impressions:

D-16

🟡 Thought you were rather skittish and weird, especially after you almost got them both in trouble had it not been for Orion shushing you with his servo.

🟡 Thankfully, you were rather understanding, a bit naive, but understanding of their innocent intentions.

Orion Pax 

🔵 You seemed like a nice mech.

🔵 A really nice mech when you didn't rat him and his buddy out to the guards when they approached the room to investigate the scream from earlier. 

🔵 Your derpy spectacles and timid mannerism (he caught onto your nervous tics) made him believe you were one of those uptight bookworms. Not the bad kind or snobbish, but not a social type of bot.

🔵 He was proved wrong twice when you had the opportunity to turn them in, but choose not to after hearing the purpose of their 'visit.' 

Shared interests: 

Oh boy, who knew you were a fan of Megatronus? Orion had a 'pleasant' time hearing D-16 and their new acquaintance ramble on about how cool and awesome the Prime was. 

When the conversation (more like fangirling) about Megatronus turned on Orion, the aforementioned mech spoke about the matrix and his goal in helping seek the location of it. 

Cue flapping servos and a squeal that was shushed by D-16's servo over your intake.

Not only were you interested in learning about the Primes, mainly Megatronus, but you also were interested in finding the lost lore of the Matrix and any information you could get your servos on. 

A friendship blossomed on that day and the three of you agreed to meet up at a bar or park whenever all of you had the time to do so. 

Overall dynamic a friends: 

You fit in pretty well with the duo. 

Your eagerness to learn more despite the consequences and sometimes good judgment was a nice balance to D-16 sticking to protocol and Orion Pax's exasperating ideas. 

Although your time spent with the two wasn't a lot compared to them working together in the mines, it didn't stop the bond from strengthening between you three. 

You were D-16's backup whenever Orion had a ridiculous plan that could lead him getting demoted severely.

You were Orion's hype mech and source of information whenever the two of you felt like you had a lead in your goals. 

You tend to call the red and blue mech Pax, even after being assured that you can call him Orion. After a while, Orion didn't mind the way you said his name, it felt…nice, like a 'special' thing between himself and you. 

Overall, I'd say the three of you were great friends. 

Until….

You picked up your pace and rubbed the glass of your spectacles from the smudge that happened to get on it. It was your off day and you wanted to spend as much of it with your friends as possible, especially when you had exciting news to share with them. 

You nearly bumped into a few bots, apologizing to them anyway, as you maneuvered around the busy streets of Iacon. It did not take long for you to arrive at the mines. You skidded to a halt when you spotted a pink femme chatting with a few other bots. 

You approached and before you could raise a digit to gain her attention she had long since spotted you. 

Elita-1 rolled an optic and jabbed a digit in one direction, then you were off--scurrying towards the showers to find your friends. 

"D? Pax?" You called as you stepped into the communal showers. The showers, which you've seen in some blueprints, were a shared space with only one or two baths built in. 

Mutterings echoed off the tiled area that appeared vacant. If it wasn't for the sound of oil, you would've assumed so. You rose a ridge before continuing to walk deeper into the area, only to stop when the murmurs grew clearer. 

"...Orion, we're going to be late…"

"C'mon, a little fun isn't going to make us late."

When you heard your designation spill from D-16's intake and more reassurance from Orion, you quickened your pace and rounded the corner to find a…well…sight to behold. 

Orion was partially submerged in the bath with D-16 straddling him. Their gazes were filled with a passion you never saw whenever the three of you were hanging out. For some reason, a pang seized your spark and you took a step back but bumped into the wall. 

The noise caused Orion and D to separate. 

"___?!" 

Energon shot to your faceplate added with the heat of the bath fogging up your spectacles caused you to stutter out a 'quick' sorry while attempting to escape. Oil splashed around as D-16 moved to the other end of the bath to cover his flushed face and Orion ran out of the bath to catch up…or rather, catch you.

Running in a slippery area was not a good idea. 

You crashed onto the floor and shrieked when your ankles were snatched and you were pulled back toward the bath. Clawing at the floor, your futile attempts at breaking free caused Orion to drop your ankles and walk around to your front to grab both sides of your helm. D-16 watched as he leaned against the edge of the bath.

"____."

"Yes?" You squawked. 

Orion smashed his dermas against yours. You felt weak and nearly melted into the kiss had it not been for the 'd'aww' coming from your other friend. You found the strength to withdraw from Orion and scoot back until you were a reasonable distance from both. 

"What..why…huh??" You pointed to the two of them, you and Orion, and then to your dermas. 

"We've…been meaning to tell you," D-16 started. 

"Just hadn't found the right moment, but now that you know…we can finally tell you how much we like you!" 

 "...classy." 

"Whaaat? ___ deserves to know about us and how we feel about them! All these secrets just felt..wrong, anyway-" Orion turned to look at you with a wide smile. "Whaddya say, starlight? You in?" 

 

"Call a medic cause  I'm about to have a spark attack." 

Cue them panicking along with you. 

And that's how you managed to become more than friends with your…well, friends. 

First date? 

A bar :) 

Twas a fun time walking the two of them back to your home when they were drunk off of their processors  

In the morning, you all comforted each other with the hangover pains 

First kiss? 

Orion already stole your first official kiss.

You and D's first kiss happened on the second date when you managed to 'borrow' some merch of his favorite Prime at a invite-only Iacon event. D legit swept you off your peds and kissed you hard enough you felt like you were seeing stars.

Demotion…

Yeah…courting a mech who's becoming notorious for sneaking into archives to look at restricted and sensitive data did not go over well with your higher ups. 

You were demoted to a lower title that stripped you off your access to most records. 

To say you were devastated was an understatement. 

You couldn't even look at Orion in the optics for a while. 

Arguments

This incident definitely caused a few disagreements in your relationship

First, D stopping Orion from visiting you too much so that you could have the space you needed 

You felt like scrap for the boiling resentment you were feeling toward yourself, the relationship, and with Orion.

It all boiled over when Orion disregarded D's warning  to stay away and managed to catch you during your working shift. 

And…it didn't end nicely. 

Names were called, not-so-good things were brought up, and you even called Orion a fragging screw up.

Making up 

After the big fight and 'cold war' that was going on between you three, mainly you and D-16 vs Orion. Things…settled down when all of you sat down to talk about it for once. 

Starting the conversation wasn't the easy part, discussion and apologizing was, especially when you and Orion were 'fighting' over how sorry you two were. D-16 had to shut the two of you up by holding you two idiots close in a hug.

Lots of servo-holding and cuddles happened that day :3

 Overall dynamic as a polycule: 

Healthy when communication isn't disrupted.

It's easy to play mediator if something does arise between two of you, but when all three of you are angry at each other? Eh, let's say there is a rule in the relationship to never bottle up your emotions for too long and communicate if you're upset about anything.

Jealousy….ohhhh, it doesn't happen often, but when someone gets a little too close Orion and D are on you like a starved bot on a pile of energon cubes. 

Your relationship is discrete, only a few bots (including your higher ups) know of the true nature of your relationship with D-16 and Orion Pax. 

Overall, it's a beautiful relationship....hopefully nothing bad will happen in the future wink wink.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[possibilistfanfiction]

For the caitvi: dog meet cute

[if u have been here a minute u know i try to give every character a border collie bc they're my passion lol HOWEVER. vi + a big rescue pitty is an actual dream come true. i just rly love dogs & force free handling & nurturing of dogs. so here u go, they are my babies]

//

vi is practically vibrating next to you in excitement, which is endearing but a little unsettling as she drives. she'd insisted you take her bronco, because she's convinced the car will immediately be scratched and dirty inside — which isn't even true, and also she's put more work into her car than you ever will any of yours. still, you'd acquiesced without too much arguing — more for fun than anything else — and then gone through the actual items on the checklist the rescue had recommended. you spent the past day making sure there were no holes in the fence and that the gate properly latched; you'd gotten bowls and the food recommended by the vet you'd found — fear free certified, vi had said after her research, proudly showing you the results of a very nice vet clinic near your new house — and a few toys and balls, a snuffle mat, and a cute little toy you can fill with peanut butter or yogurt for him to lick. you'd gotten a ton of training treats and bully sticks, marrow bones and duck feet; you pick out two comfortable beds to put in the living room and your bedroom; vi had liked a pink harness, collar, and 6' lead, which had made you laugh and then kiss her right in the middle of the pet store; you order a long lead to go with it later that night.

so, by all accounts and purposes, you are very ready.

still, vi is acting more nervous than she had when she'd taken her lieutenant's exam a few months ago, more nervous than when you were waiting to hear back about jinx's acceptance to her graduate program, more nervous than the first night you'd really moved into your house and fell asleep on the couch, sated and spent, in front of the fireplace. you'd loved this house for many reasons, but one of the big ones was its beautiful yard: vi has been looking at rescue dogs on her phone for the entire time you've known her.

'i can't believe it's really happening,' she says, again, as she takes the turn onto the street the rescue is located on.

'we're going to have so much fun, and give him such a good home.'

she breathes a sigh out and takes her hand off the gear shift to squeeze yours. you'd brought it up a few weeks ago, maybe looking into a dog, since you had the space, and you lived together now, and you owned the house, rather than having pet restrictions in an apartment. there had been a million excuses she'd offered, all of them poor and all of them because she was just nervous. you know how well you can manage things, how that's a way you're good at showing your love, and you know how gentle and nurturing v's nature is when given the chance.

she parks and you kiss her gently. 'hey, any dog would be lucky to be raised by rich lesbians with no kids.'

it gets her to laugh, finally, her nerves dissipating. 'speak for yourself. i'm not rich.'

you roll your eyes — it's not a secret that you want to get married one day, that you like making sure that vi — and her family — has everything they need, especially since you make enough money through your own work to not need any of your trust fund. 'rich in love.'

she groans but takes your hand anyway, laces your fingers together before you open the door.

the rescue coordinator and trainer meet you in the lobby, smiling, and compliment vi on her treat bag and the collar, harness, and leash set you'd brought. you had applied for the dog the week before, having seen his picture for one second and then showing it to vi, and you'd watched a soft smile grow on her face. you'd gone through a video call interview, and now all that's left is an in-person meet-up to see if a trial adoption period feels good for both of you and the dog.

he's already alone in the little play yard with one of the other volunteers, and you hear vi sniffle next to you, and then laugh, when you look her way, before getting down on her knees.

'hi, atlas,' she says, as you crouch down too, and it doesn't take even a second before the dog — muscular and goofy, with a blocky head, mostly black fur with a few white spots — bounds over to both of you and bowls vi over with how excited he is.

you laugh, and you get out your phone to take a few pictures; vi kisses his head and you rub behind his ears. you understand that it's important, and good, that the rescue does a trial adoption period, but his eyes are a grey-blue and he has a scar above one of them, and after vi throws the ball and you play tug with him a little, he just lies down half in her lap while she scratches his offered tummy — you know that there's no way this dog is ever going back.

'it's a good thing you're, uh, you know... fit,' the trainer says, a little flustered at the obvious muscles and veins of vi's arms in one of her t-shirts, you think, which, okay, you do understand. 'we're working on his leash skills, still, and he's getting so much better! but he's a strong guy.'

you'd, of course, read atlas' bio: he was rescued off the side of the road, alone, starving and sick, and he's spent almost the last two years at the rescue, cared for, of course, but overstimulated. he's loved his field trips, and he's friendly to kids, other dogs, even cats. he's active, park plays and hikes, but he really just wants to cuddle and sleep. mostly, he's been overlooked because he's a strong pit bull with a big bark. vi had immediately wanted him, even if she hadn't quite said so: you'd understood.

the trainer talks you through helping him feel safe as you put his new harness on, but he really doesn't seem to care at all when you offer him some chicken as a reward after. he licks your face and, admittedly, you are kind of in love already. the trainer plays with him while you and vi go inside and fill out the final paperwork, and he seems more subdued when you come back. but, 'you're so smart, huh?' vi says to him, the second he starts getting excited when she takes his leash and walks toward the exit. he starts whining and pulling, but when you get through the door, your hand in vi's, atlas turns around and jumps on both of you a few times. it doesn't bother you, and it makes vi cry, so you don't even try to coax him away with treats: you just let him feel freedom, safe and sound, for the first time.

//

atlas rides calmly in the car on the way home, watching everything out the window in his little dog car hammock, easily tolerating when you'd secured him with the seat belt extension that attached to his harness. jinx, unsurprisingly, has already come over when you get home, and she laughs and falls back on the ground, letting him lick all over her face, when he rams into her in hello. she slips a custom, thank you very much bandana — a lot of neon pink — onto him and kisses his forehead, but she has class, she pouts, so she promises to be over again tomorrow to play with him.

you and vi show atlas around the house, direct him to some toys; vi gives him a few chew options to see which one he'll pick — a beef marrow bone, no surprised there — and then he settles on the bed in the living room and works on his bone for an hour, both of you just smiling and watching from the couch, before he finishes and lumbers over to you, hopping up and burrowing in between you with a sigh.

vi starts to cry again, which makes you start to cry, and you both just sit there, laughing too, while you pet him.

'you have to know that this is, like, you in dog form, right?' you ask eventually.

'a brilliant and sensitive heart behind a strong, rugged exterior? of course.'

she's using humor to deflect — you both know at this point — but you let her get away with it this time.

//

atlas settles in easily, like he was always meant to be yours, and maybe he was. one morning, when vi is on shift, you take him on his long line to your favorite trail just outside the city and just let him walk and sniff for an hour or so, and then sit with you on the patio of your favorite cafe while you have a coffee. he sleeps and says hello when people ask, and, while he still gets so excited he often knocks jinx and vi over still when they get home, he's so gentle greeting strangers that you have to fight back tears. when you take him to the crag a month in, he makes friends with every person there and then gnaws on a bully stick before sleeping the afternoon away in a patch of sun.

for years, since you'd met vi, she'd had a hard time sleeping: you knew why, and you understood it. you'd tried all kinds of things to help with her insomnia and nightmares: therapy, and medication, and different techniques to ground and calm. it's always been a losing battle, though, things getting worse after long, hard shifts where calls had gone bad; oftentimes you'd get home from a full day at work and she hadn't slept at all since she got home from a 24 hour shift that morning: it hasn't been uncommon for her to go thirty hours without any good sleep for as long as you'd known her.

today, you'd been expecting the same thing: dark circles beneath her eyes, exhausted muscles that still can't rest, a painstakingly cooked dinner she'd prepared to, somehow, in her mind, make up for all of it. you'd talked to her on her drive home this morning, her short responses about the call she'd gone on dealing with an apartment fire in her childhood neighborhood last night telling you more than a robust description ever could.

when you walk in, though, the living room is dark, the fireplace mostly embers. it's cold outside, windy and probably going to snow tonight, so usually she would stoke it for you before you get home. there's no smell of dinner, and you don't hear atlas' paws scrambling to come jump on you in hello. for a split second, you're kind of terrified, before you notice the sound of snoring, and then your eyes find them: atlas is almost completely on top of vi on the couch, one of her hands still on his shoulders and the other stretched behind her head. they're both breathing deeply, soft snuffles and sighs, and you almost sink to your knees right then and there. you have your own demons, your own discussions in therapy and fights with your mom and aches in the middle of the night, but vi spent years of her life in the dark, alone, kept from any love or care, being treated like a dangerous animal. you want to marry her; you want jinx to annoy the hell out of you for years; you want a life with her, forever.

so you wipe your tears and put your coat away quietly, put your bag away and set your computer to charge in the office. you'd tentatively made plans to climb with vi after you'd gotten off work, mostly because it helps regulate her nervous system, even if you're both exhausted. but instead, you ease yourself gently onto the coffee table across from the couch and touch her face, then scratch behind atlas' soft ears.

'hello, my darlings.'

vi startles awake, disoriented, but then takes stock of atlas — who seems excited you're home, from the happy thump of his tail, but unwilling to move, far too warm and comfortable — and her eyes meet yours, a little smile sneaking its way onto her face. 'hey, cupcake.'

'it's nearly six.'

'oh. wow.'

'yeah?'

'i've been asleep for, like, five hours, i guess.'

you both almost burst into tears, but you kiss her forehead instead and say, 'shall we order in? movie night? it looks like mr. atlas here doesn't want to give up his prime spot.'

vi rubs her thumb along your cheek, always adoring, always gentle. 'ramen?'

'you drive a hard bargain.'

you don't talk about it further then: you go change into a pair of shorts and one of vi's sweaters, and atlas pouts but makes room for you on the couch too, eventually resting his head in your lap, and you put in your typical ramen order on your phone before vi picks a movie you'd both wanted to watch and had missed in theaters. she gets up, eventually, to open a bottle of wine for you and grab a beer for herself, and to put a new log on and then stoke the fire, before curling back up into your side.

'you know, i've thought about his name.'

'yeah?'

'jinx has come up with, like, seven thousand nicknames, some of which he responds to because she feeds him cheese all the time.'

vi rolls her eyes, but you laugh.

'but, you know. the weight of the world, and all that.'

'like i said, you in dog form.'

vi shakes her head but it becomes common occurrence, as the weeks and months and years go on, to come home to her after a shift, held down by altas, happily resting with her: a peace that's hard-found and even harder-earned, a companion for it all.

[covetyou]

the best of you, honey, belongs to me

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, unprotected P in V, oral (f receiving), creampie, choking, spanking, mild praise kink, potential assault, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.5k chapter summary: Joel Miller is an asshole. An asshole and a liar. Right?

A/N: HOLY SHIT I DID IT I FINISHED SOMETHING. I did it Ma!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me this month. Your support has been silly lovely and I genuinely love you all a little bit.

Ty to @iamasaddie and @jupiter-soups for being the first people to cheer me on from the sidelines. You both made me excited about my own writing, which feels weird but I'm very grateful to you.

I hope you like it, thank you, goodbye, see you soon, I love you.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: NFWMB by Hozier

Joel Miller was a massive fucking liar, you'd realized.

You probably would have been able to guess that before, but as you were stood here, back pushed against a brick wall in an alleyway, it was clear as day.

You'd been dragged down here by two men - a small rat like one and a taller one with a mean look on his face - and thrown against the wall. Your back smarted, and you tried to reason with them, but they were tugging at your clothes and threatening you before you could think of anything useful to say.

They were torn off you as quick as they were on you.

And now, heavy fists were pounding into them, beating into their faces and stomachs as they slouched pathetically against the brick opposite. Joel had found you, somehow noticed in a crowd of people that you were suddenly gone. He had someone with him, they looked similar enough that they could have been family, and both were beating into the men that had dragged you down the alley.

A yelled threat and the two men were hobbling away, beaten and bloody and holding onto themselves in their retreat.

"You okay?"

You're looking at Joel, so it takes a second to register that the other man is addressing you. You slowly turn to him - definitely related - and nod. You're stunned and a little winded more than anything.

Joel is flexing his fist, staring daggers at you. His companion doesn't say another word to you, but you hear him talk in hushed tones to Joel, before Joel mutters something back to him and he walks away.

You should probably be more scared of being alone down an alley with Joel Miller than the other two guys but, though it confuses you, you feel safer than ever. He'd protected you, saved you, and that's how you knew that Joel Miller was a fucking liar.

"C'mon," he growls to you, walking away and expecting you to follow. Of course, you follow, even through the low lying anger and frustration that's still simmering in your belly.

As you walk behind, you watch as he clenches his fist and flexes his hands over and over. Before you know it you're outside his apartment block, being roughly dragged up the stairs by a heavy hand on your arm, dragged down a corridor and deposited in front of his front door. He doesn't look at you as he fishes his key out from an inner pocket on his coat.

"Saw you fuckin' lookin' at me, I told you not to do that shit," he says angrily, throwing you into his apartment and slamming the door closed behind you.

"They hurt you?" You shake your head. "They touch you?" You shake your head again.

His nostrils flair. You can almost hear the bones in his hands creak from how hard he's clenching his fists.

And so you poke the fucking bear again, because what is there to lose. You'd spent all week mulling it over, getting angrier and angrier as you talked yourself in circles. He didn't like you and you definitely didn't like him. You didn't want to kiss him, but also you did. Neither of you cared, but maybe both of you did. Everything was feeling like a lie and all you wanted was the truth. So you poke, bracing yourself for impact.

"You're a liar," you whisper, pulling at the sleeves of your coat.

His eyes immediately snap to yours, and he's making quick work of the distance between you. He's toe to toe with you when he stops, looking down at you, fists still firmly clenched at his sides.

"What did you fuckin' say to me?"

You swallow before you speak again, meek as a mouse but a fire in your belly. "You're a liar. You said you wouldn't look out for me."

"S'that why you kept lookin'? S'that why you got yourself in trouble? To prove some fuckin' point?"

You frown at him - it hadn't been intentional. You were glaring at him when they grabbed you, stuffing a gloved hand over your mouth to keep your scream from being heard. The people around you didn't care, didn't stop what they were doing or go for help. They just left you. But Joel came anyway.

"You think I asked for that?" you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. You never have and never will cry in front of this man, not like this anyway. You watch as his mouth curls to sneer at you, the fire turning into a sick feeling bubbling up through your belly as you watch his lip raise.

You don't know what comes over you, but you push at his chest, wanting to touch him and get him away from you in equal measure. It takes him by surprise, the force of your push making him stumble back.

You both stare at each other, unmoving for a beat, both shocked that you'd dare to touch him let alone push him. You think maybe you should run, get away before he gets you, but your reactions are slower than his, and you're raising your arms to protect yourself as he makes one big stride over to you.

The blow doesn't come.

He's pulling at your coat, jerking it down your arms, before tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It gets caught, and you hear a tear as it catches on your arm, but he keeps pulling anyway. The fabric splits from your body, tattered and ruined as it's discarded on the floor.

"You think I would fuckin' hit you?" he says angrily as he tugs at the rest of your clothes. "You think I would fuckin' hurt you in any way you don't want?"

You have no time to answer before he's manhandling you again, pushing you roughly into his room.

He pushes you forward onto his bed, bending you over and holding you there as he reaches around and tugs at your zipper. You fight to stand, but the weight of his hand keeps you in place as he pulls your pants and panties down in one, leaving them around your knees so you can't run to escape even if you wanted to. Any thought that you could, should, run is already gone. You don't want to, not any more. Whatever he wants to do, whatever anger he has for you, you want it. You want to feel his anger, you want it to burn into yours until you combust.

A hand claps down on your ass and you feel the sting ripple up your back. He wanted that one to hurt, and it did. Another sharp slap hits your other cheek soon after, the sting of pain made worse by your cold skin, but you're glad for it because you wanted that one to hurt too.

Both his hands rub across your cheeks, drawing a groan from you as he massages them and soothes the sting before rough fingers pull you apart. He always did like looking.

He wastes no time in plunging his wet tongue into your pussy from behind, Joel's hands yanking your pants down the to your feet to spread you open further for him. "You're fuckin' dripping," he says between breaths as you push back into his face.

"You this wet from those guys?" You don't answer, so he slaps a hand down on your ass again.

"Fuckin' answer me."

"N-no. M'not wet from them."

"Then why," he says, breathing deeply as he devours your pussy, the cold of his nose tickling your hole as the scruff on his jaw scratches at your inner thighs. "Tell me. Tell me why this needy fuckin' pussy is so wet."

"Because of you," you push your face down into his bed, biting at his sheets as his tongue swipes over your clit, already so sensitive your legs are shaking. You arch your back, exposing more of your cunt to his relentless tongue. There's no question or thread of shame in your mind why you like this - why you're already so close to coming undone just from him being an asshole and playing with your pussy.

"Me, huh? Little hole's desperate for me? Look at her cryin' out to be stuffed full, drippin' all over the place."

You couldn't help the drip of slick from your cunt, or the way his words always worked to make it worse. You knew you were a mess, but by now you knew he liked it, even if he taunted you for it. You felt how his grasping hands got firmer, saw as his cock got harder, just at the sight of your glistening pussy.

Two of his thick fingers are pushing into you, the cold feel of them startling you as they slide home. You'd spent a week thinking of his fist buried in your cunt, but his fingers still felt so thick, so much, plunged into your dripping wet heat as they were.

"If you make a mess on my sheets I'll rub your fuckin' nose in it. Act like an animal I'll treat you like one."

If you were an animal, he was fucking feral - a snarling, growling, feral animal of a man that you just couldn't resist.

His fingers curl, dragging against your walls harshly as his tongue slides against your clit again, swirling around the stretched rim where his fingers are embedded in you, tasting you, before slurping at your clit once more. You grind your hips back against his face, trying to get more friction on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. They're warmed now, the burning heat from your cunt drawing the chill from his bones.

The wet squelch in your cunt is obscene as he laps at your clit, drawing you so close already, your feet still tangled in your pants and your moans muffled by the push of your face into his sheets.

Joel's fingers are gone just as your orgasm starts to raise its head over the horizon, ruining any high you were so close to getting. You slam your fist down on the bed in frustration, ignoring his gruff laugh as you muffle your fuck into his bed. His knees crack as he stands, undoing his belt and pulling his cock from his pants. He doesn't stroke himself, he doesn't need to, he just squeezes himself at the base, lines himself up with your hole and pushes forward.

A strangled moan pulls from your chest as he sheathes himself, pulling your hips back flush with his as his cock impales you in one movement.

"Fuck, if this pussy don't just love this dick."

He draws back slowly, pulling any slick from your cunt back with him, coating himself in you, before slamming back to the hilt.

"Uhh, f-fuck."

You feel him draw back again, holding himself back from you, tip barely inside your cunt, teasing himself at your entrance. Before he can, you push back onto his cock, taking him in with a deep moan.

He stifles a groan, fingers digging into your hips, pinching the flesh in his grip. You try to move, to fuck yourself on his length, but his grip won't let you. You can feel him throb inside you, and you hope he's already close to coming, that he wants you that much he can barely hold himself back.

The thought is gone as soon as he starts pulling back again and thrusting forward quickly, repeatedly slamming his hips into your ass and pulling you back onto him. The sharp slap of his hips and wet squelches of your pussy are muffled only by your moans and Joel's shaky breathing.

"Tell me - you fuck anyone else - like this," you say through staccato gasps as his cock collides with your cervix. "If you say you do - I'll know - you're even more of a - fucking liar."

He throws you forward, pulling out and standing glaring down at you when you twist to look at him, finally able to kick your pants and shoes off your feet.

"You think you're special?" he growls. You take him in, his massive figure stood there still clothed, cock hanging lewdly from his pants and covered in your slick. You want to lick it, taste your own pussy on his cock and catch the drip of precum from his tip before it's wasted.

"No. I'm not. And neither are you," you spread your legs as you say it, willing him to come back, to start fucking you again, but not daring to ask for it. "You're an asshole. I just like that you make me feel good."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart." He's pouncing on you before you can process it, yanking his shirt over his head before pulling your spread thighs across his clothed ones, notching at your entrance and sliding straight back in.

You thud back down onto the bed with the force of his cock fucking into you, staring up at him with an open mouth, panting as he starts to cant into you once again. His hands are holding your thighs against his as he rocks so deeply into you you think you can see your lower belly pulse with each movement.

His hands slide down your thighs, pulling you apart where his cock joined with you, swiping a thumb up the slick gathered there and rubbing it around your clit in rough circles. You reach down, hand trying to meet his and hold him there, but he swats you away. You move further instead, grabbing at the waistband of his pants and tugging down, slipping them over his ass before he's pushing you back again. Your fingers drag across his abdomen as you fall back again, watching a shudder crawl through him with the graze of your fingertips.

You try not to smile when his hand falls from you and shimmies his pants further down his legs, over his knees and kicking them off the end of the bed whilst still buried in you. You can see all of him again now, his broad shoulders, dark nipples, the trail of hair down to his cock where it disappears inside you. His thick thighs, spread almost as lewdly as yours, dusted in hair, the muscles flexing with each rock into you. He doesn't look at you as you drink him in, eyes focused on your cunt as he pulls you back open.

He spits down onto your clit. You whine when it collides with your skin and starts to trickle down your spread pussy. You whine again when his thumb draws it up and around your clit, massaging it into you, each swipe of his thumb jerking your swollen nub and bringing you closer to coming undone as he pounds you hard into his mattress.

You throw your head back with the feeling of it all, moaning loudly into the open room.

"You'd let me do anythin' to you, huh."

"Yeah," you admit, head still thrown back and eyes closed. You would, you couldn't even say why, just that you knew you would. That for all the pain at the end of the world, this was a pain that was worth it, a stretch that made you ache in the right ways, the sting of his palm that electrified you, made you feel alive.

"You're just beggin' for me to slap your pussy pink again, ain't you? Fill that pretty little asshole up with my cum. Wear you like a fuckin' glove." He's growling, muttering obscene things to you, things you both know to be true. "You'd let me fuck you anyway I want, even share you with whoever I want."

You nod, stupidly bobbing your head along with the rhythm of him sliding into you.

"This pussy is mine," he growls. "Say it."

"Yours!" you pant, you didn't want it to be anyone elses any more, what was the point when he'd ruined you for anyone else. "M'yours!" Fuck.

"All o' you? That's more than I even asked for sweetheart."

And he's falling forward over you, hands planting either side of your head for leverage as he pounds into you harder than he ever has, abandoning your clit just as you were about to fall apart underneath him yet again. Any words to correct yourself are gone as you groan, pulling your brows together and watching him. His face relaxes and contorts over and over, sweat beads at his temples. You know his hair would feel damp if only you would reached up to touch it.

He shifts to his elbows, the sweat from his chest and belly mingling with yours, making your bodies slick as they slide together. You watch his mouth open as he pants, the heat of his breath on your face cooling the sweat dripping down your neck. You can smell him, see every imperfection of his skin in such detail that you're struck dumb, angry, and desperate all in one swoop. Something so close still feels so far away, and a frustrated sob is bubbling from you before you can stop it.

Something inside you snaps with that. You'd be chasing it for weeks, denied something you hadn't even dared to ask for.

You grab him by the throat as his hips roll into you, gasping out a breath before you grit your teeth and say it, forcing him to look directly at you.

"Fucking kiss me."

He laughs in your face and you fight down the shame for even daring to ask for something you wanted, something you deserved. "Is that what you want?"

You nod, squeezing his throat beneath your fingertips.

He pulls back from you - you want to claw at him and hold him to you but he pushes your hand against his throat with his own. He looks down between you, your pussy creaming around his cock and swollen clit twitching with each thrust.

You tighten the grip on the sides of his throat, feeling the hard thud of blood through his veins at your fingertips, drawing his eyes back to yours.

"Fuck, that's it, sweetheart."

He suddenly throws your arm down from his neck, pinning both if your hands down as he puts his weight on top of you.

"That what you want?" he grits out. "That what you keep coming back for? Thought you were whoring yourself out for pills, not a fuckin' kiss. Are you that fuckin' desperate?"

He's goading you, you know he is. Still, you want to scream at him, but his face is close to yours now, so terrifyingly close you could kiss him by accident if you weren't careful. Suddenly you're terrified of it, desperate but terrified.

His aquiline nose slides up the side of your face, and you stop breathing. "You want this?"

"Please." You'll be angry at yourself for begging later, right now you'd say anything if it meant he'd finally give it to you.

He drags his nose across your face, rubs his nose against yours. He's practically still inside you now, the shallow rock of his hips the only movement either of you are making. "You sure?"

"Please," you whisper again, breath ghosting across his lips. You try not to move your mouth too much, barely muttering the word in case your mouth touches his. His own breath huffs against your mouth, teasing you with the taste of him.

"S'all you want, huh?"

"Mm." He's so close you don't trust yourself to speak.

His nose nuzzles into yours, the hair on his face tickling at your sensitive top lip. Then you feel it, the bow of his top lip swiping against yours, not kissing just feeling.

You're frozen, terrified to move, terrified to feel what you've been desperate for for months.

But you made it through the worst days at the end of the world. What was fear any more except another lie.

You press your lips forward, done with waiting, done with being patient, done with putting others first. You want it so badly that finally, finally, you take it.

At the first press of your lips to his, he releases your wrists, sliding his hand down the curve of your body to hold you to him. You moan into his mouth, blinking back angry tears as you wrap your own hand around his neck to pull him in further. At first he doesn't move against you, letting you kiss the soft swell of his mouth, but when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip and breathe him in, his mouth opens and his lips press to yours, giving back everything you're taking.

"This all you wanted this whole time?" he whispers against your mouth.

"Not all I wanted," you mumble. Your eyes are closed, head dizzy from breathing so deeply, from finally doing the thing you'd literally only dreamed of.

"No?"

"No," you swallow before continuing, the shame of admission gone now. What shame could there even be when it was so obvious. You open your eyes just as you speak. "I wanted all of it."

"Yeah?" You think from the look on his face that he needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it, so you kiss him again, just because you can.

He presses his hips into you harder, making you gasp straight into his mouth, the sharp pressure of his cock so much with the fuzzy high in your head. He does it again, kissing you of his own volition this time and swallowing your moan down as he starts fucking you again, one hand settling in your hair as the other wanders your body. You can still taste the salty sweetness of your own pussy on his mouth as you lick into him.

Your own hand dances with his over your body, teasing your own nipples and stroking down, down, until you push your hand between your bodies and feel between your legs. You're a mess, sweat and the wetness from your pussy merged together to create a slip and slide of slick as he slides his cock into your tender hole. You stroke at the base of him and feel another shudder work its way through his body before you move your hand back to yourself, circling your own clit as he rocks his length into you.

"You gonna make yourself come on my cock?" he says, looking down where your hand strokes at your clit. You nod, lips brushing his, capturing him in another kiss as you moan, so close already.

"Good fuckin' girl. You rub that pretty pussy. She just fuckin' loves this dick." True.

His cock in your pussy, his hands in your hair, holding your body, your own hand strumming your clit with well practiced movements, the feeling of his lips on your own. It's all so much so quickly, everything you've been craving for so long, that the fire in your body burns so bright it explodes out of every pore before you can hold it off.

"F-fuck, Joeeel."

You come with a cry, every part of your body shuddering and convulsing, hand twitching over your own cunt as you desperately try to keep the high going as long as you can, until you're so sensitive all you can do is grip your own thigh, your nails creating half moons in the soft flesh.

"You're all mine, huh?" he says gently, still inside you now as he feels your walls pulse and twitch around him. You nod, floating from his kisses and your own high. "No one else gonna touch this pussy. S'all mine."

"S'yours."

"Needy, needy, pussy," he grunts into your mouth, as your cunt quivers around him, an aftershock pulled from you at just his words and the rasp of his coarse hair against your clit.

It hits you then, for all he called you needy you never actually asked for what you wanted, what you needed. You never took it either. Not until now. But he always did.

"I think you're just as needy as I am," you whisper.

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head. "I never said I wasn't, sweetheart."

A quick shuffle of his knees later he's pounding into you with abandon, your cunt had barely stopped throbbing by the time he started again.

"Ohhhh, god."

You don't move to kiss him again, he's chasing whatever high he needs now and you let him take it, back arching, moaning as he pounds away, cock slipping inside you with ease. The hand in your hair pulls harder, tugging your head back. You think this is going to be it, he's going to come inside you like this, but then wet kisses are being peppered across your neck and collar bone, his moans sounding more like those of a common whore than his usual grunts.

You want to come again already, so you grip him tight, hands roaming from your body to his arms, his shoulders. Your nails claw at him, pulling him closer and pushing him away, trying to tear him apart with your bare hands as he fucks you.

He moves quicker still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you and slams home over and over. You think he's almost there - hope he is because how much more screaming can your voice take before it breaks - when he's yanking your hair again. His mouth latches to your own in a sloppy kiss, tongue fighting with yours and his cock squelching into the wet heat of your pussy as he comes undone, groaning into your mouth, shuddering, fucking ropes of thick cum into your empty cunt and never stilling for a second.

His hips stop bucking against yours before his mouth does. He kisses you softer, groaning, slowing down to catch his breath before he finally removes his lips from yours with a shuddering gasp, screwing his eyes shut.

Cum practically gushes out of you when he pulls out, and you expect him to get up and leave like he has every time before. He doesn't. Instead, he rests his head next to yours, kissing your shoulder, the warmth of his body encasing yours.

Your face finds his, nudging against his jaw. He shifts, letting you in, and your mouth finds his again. You kiss him until you turn to liquid, sighing deeply and tracing soft patterns on his skin and your own with your fingertips.

Eventually, he releases your hair, and you think the moment is truly over. But then he rolls over, flopping down next to you, the weight of him dipping the mattress and making you shift closer to his side. He closes his eyes, putting an arm behind his head, and you take the chance to look down at his naked body, his cock now soft between his legs.

The feeling that bubbles up through you rips out of your mouth in a laugh. Joel's eyes fly open, finding yours, making you laugh harder. Tears are falling from your eyes - the absurdity of it all too much to bear. So angry at him, at yourself, for weeks now. Wanting something for so long, something that it turns out you could have just reached out and grabbed. Driving yourself near mad over wanting to be touched in a way you thought he never would, when maybe all along he thought you never wanted it. You're left with nothing but small giggles and an aching belly by the time the feeling bubbles out of you completely.

You wonder how all of this must look to him. How small and naive you must look, just a silly girl giggling in his bed. If he thinks it, he doesn't voice it. He just shakes his head softly and raises an eyebrow at you, as if to ask if you're done.

You lie next to each other in silence after that. He doesn't tell you to leave, and you don't move to either. You just lie there, arms barely touching, sweat drying and cooling both of your bodies.

You'd always been okay with silence, more often than not finding yourself with nothing to say, especially these days. But something in this moment tells you to speak, and so you do, filling the silence with your own voice before the opportunity can be taken from you.

"Thanks for helping me out there," you start softly. "I know you said you wouldn't, and I'm not trying to prove a point I just... Thank you. I was looking at you. I couldn't help it. I've been... angry. At you, yeah, but mostly myself. So I was looking, but I didn't realize it was that much, I swear and I -"

"S'okay," he stops your ramble so simply and quickly you frown, an involuntary tut falls of your mouth. He casts a glance over to you, almost chastising as he continues. "Ain't lyin' when I say it though. You gotta stop lookin' at me. I really can't be lookin' out for you, just got lucky this time. There's assholes bigger than me out there."

"Doubt it," you scoff. He raises an eyebrow and runs his tongue along his teeth, daring you to say more. You don't.

You fiddle with the sheets between you, biting at your cheek and bottom lip, so much more to say but the words just ending up jumbled in your head.

"I wasn't lying either. When I said I want it. All of it." That's a start, you figure.

"You don't want me. I could be anyone."

"Maybe I don't. Never said I did. I just know that I want whatever this is," you gesture between the two of you. Whatever had started as a transaction was clearly more than that now. You enjoyed the feel of him, the way he touched you and talked to you. You enjoyed the escape of it all. It was nice to know another person in the world knew you were there, that you existed, cared about you in some way, even if it was only enough to make sure you came. "Sex was never really any good with anyone else anyway."

"I've got other people I have arrangements with. I've got Tess, I've got -"

"I know. That doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to change. I don't want anything to change. I just want..." you trail off, shrugging. "I just want this for me. I don't care what it is for you, as long as it's good too."

He looks at you, taking you in with curious eyes, working out if what you're saying is true. If really, in this moment here and now, you want this exactly as it is. "I can do that."

You think that he gets it, understands it all more than you could ever explain. The thought of that alone is more comforting than any touch he could give you. It could have been a sweet moment, if that's what you two were. But it's not, and still he ruins it anyway.

"Pussy really is no one else's but mine, huh?" There's an edge to his voice that tells you he's holding back a laugh, and you could fucking hit him.

This time, you do. You relish in the oof that leaves his body as your hand collides with the side of his chest. He catches your wrist before you can land another soft blow, your skin prickling in his firm grip. You know from the feel of his hand and the look in his eye that you'll fuck him again before you leave his apartment today.

It only takes a few minutes for you to prove yourself right. You climb on top of him all soft curves and bouncing tits, hair a mess, face scrunched and jaw relaxed as you ride him, kissing him as much as you've ever wanted. Even when your legs ache, when he starts fucking up into you with each bounce of your hips, you carry on, wanting to take from him again and have him fill you.

He never tells you to leave, but eventually you get up, putting your clothes on, tucking your torn t-shirt around you. You expect your dad will be wondering where you've got to soon.

Joel sits and watches you dress until you're stood fully clothed, looking at him lying nude on his bed, a total contrast to what happened in this room just a week ago.

You think for a moment, waiting as he gets up and walks with you back through his apartment. You take in the last few hours. The last week. The last few months of knowing Joel Miller.

"Joel?"

"Mm."

You look him up and down as you stand in front of his door, still naked as the day he was born. "You're a massive slut, you know that, right?"

He laughs. Full bellied, head back, laughs.

"Takes one to know one, sweetheart," he says with a smirk, winking as he unlatches the front door.

You kiss Joel again as you leave his apartment. He can't stop you now, and you don't think he would ever even try.

tag list: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @noisynightmarepoetry @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

[vilevenom]

This idea slapped me in the face this morning and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it down, so here you go.

This is Just a Hiccup

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (movie universe)

Pairing: Sonic & Shadow (sonadow, if you squint)

Summary: It was nearly Christmas. Sonic should be excited to finally spend it with his family. But he couldn't help but think about someone who wasn't there... WARNING: MILD SPOILERS for Sonic 3

Sonic sighed quietly as he watched snowflakes gently swirl and float through the air through the living room window, his breath momentarily fogging up the glass. It had been snowing for nearly a week straight, coating Green Hills in a thick layer of soft white. While it gave the rest of the town a festive appearance, with the way the frost covered trees in town sparkled like glitter, Sonic couldn't help but feel like the it made the yard look desolate and unwelcoming. Everything felt quiet and cold to the blue hedgehog, mirroring his melancholy. It was rapidly approaching Sonic's first proper Christmas with his family, and by all rights he should be ecstatic, but he just couldn't find it in himself to muster up his usual exuberance.

"Hey, Sonic!" Tails chirped, hopping up onto the window bench next to the blue hedgehog, his namesakes waving behind him happily, "Maddie said the cookies are almost cool enough to start decorating. Are you going to come help?"

"Hmm? Oh, uh…nah. Last time I tried to help Maddie ice cookies I squeezed the tube too hard and it exploded everywhere. I should probably stick to just eating the results," Sonic hummed, turning to his little brother with a tiny, only slightly forced smile.

Tails frowned at him, his tails drooping as he eyed Sonic. "…Are you thinking about Shadow again?"

Sonic blinked in surprise, not realizing just how transparent he'd been. Though, in retrospect, he supposed sighing sadly every few minutes while staring forlornly out the window wasn't exactly what most people would consider 'subtle'. "I've been pretty obvious, haven't I? Sorry. I don't mean to be a bummer."

"You're not a bummer. I'm just worried about you. Ever since we got word from the doctors that Tom would be okay, you've been…mopey. I didn't want to bring it up in front of the others, because I know it's not really your style to talk about feelings, but…Are you okay?"

"I mean…Okay as I can be," Sonic sighed with a shrug, shifting around on the window bench to properly face Tails, "I guess I just…regret how our interactions went. He was the first hedgehog I'd ever seen, and we just wound up butting heads every time we met. And then with Tom getting hurt, and my Super rampage, I…We did talk a bit, and I never would've been able to divert the eclipse canon without him. But then…he died. He sacrificed himself, and I'll never get to tell him that I'm sorry for what happened to him. That I'm sorry he felt like he had no one else in the whole world, and that…that I couldn't save him. I know it's been months now, but it just keeps circling around in my head."

"Sonic," Tails murmured, his ears pressed back as he scooted into his brother's side, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug, his tails blanketing them in soft fur, "I'm sure he knew you would've done more if you could."

"Yeah," the hedgehog sighed, returning the hug and half burying his face in the tuft of fur on the top of Tails' head, "You're probably right."

The peaceful moment lasted a minute or two, with the snow still falling to the ground outside the window, and Knuckles and Maddie's conversation quietly filtering into the living room from the kitchen, before it was shattered by the doorbell ringing, and Ozzie's sharp bark at the unexpected sound. Sonic groaned at the noise, echoed by Tails grumbling into his shoulder.

"I've got it!" Tom's voiced came from the hallway, shortly followed by his hurried footsteps towards the front door.

Sonic sighed at the sound of the door opening, gently pushing Tails away with a soft smile. "Thanks, bro. I think I needed that," he hummed, ruffling Tails' fur tuft with a lopsided grin. He snorted as the fox swatted at his hand and jumped off the bench, shooting Sonic a quick, brilliant smile.

"Anytime, Sonic," Tails chirped, before he trotted off into the kitchen to join Knuckles and Maddie. Sonic moved to follow when Tom's voice cut through the rest of the noise in the house.

"Sonic? There's a…visitor to see you."

Tilting his head curiously, Sonic's shoes squeaked against the floorboards as he swiftly shifted the direction he'd been walking, trotting towards the front door instead of the kitchen. "A visitor? Could it be one of the many fans of Blue Justice?" His chuckled died in his throat as he saw Tom's pensive face, and the person in the doorway came into view. "Agent Stone?!" Sonic immediately shifted into a defensive stance, quills bristling and a scowl on his face, "What're you doing here?"

"Relax," Stone sighed, rolling his eyes at Sonic's low growl, "I'm only here as an escort."

"Escort?" Sonic echoed curiously, relaxing his stance and standing straight, "To who?"

With that, Stone stepped to the side, revealing a familiar black and red hedgehog, though he was swaddled in a black puffer jacket and deep red scarf to fend off the winter chill, making him look smaller than he was. His gaze was focused to the side, while a small white box was clutched in his hands.

"Shadow?!" Sonic couldn't help but shout in surprise, a wave of confusing emotions crashing over him as tears welled in his eyes. "You're alive!" He rushed forward and crushed the other hedgehog in a hug, heedless of the box the other held. Barely a moment passed, however, before Sonic swiftly stepped back with another scowl on his face. "You're alive?!" he snapped, "It's been months! You just left me hanging?!" And before either Stone or Tom could react, Sonic reeled his fist back and punched Shadow in the shoulder, causing the dark hedgehog to flinch and take a stumbling step back.

In a flash, Sonic found his view of Shadow blocked by the long black jacket that Stone wore, the former Agent letting out a low growl at Tom. "Control your kid," he snarled, before he swirled around and crouched in front of Shadow on the front doorstep, worry blatant on his face. Sonic was utterly flabbergasted as Stone's hands fluttered near Shadow, only touching when the dark hedgehog gave a near imperceptible nod. At that, Stone bushed his hands over Shadow's shoulders, the hedgehog's gaze fixed resolutely on the ground. Sonic was fairly certain that if he didn't have above average hearing, he wouldn't have been able to hear the hushed conversation the two then had. He was quite confident that Tom couldn't.

"Are you okay?"

"I am uninjured."

"That's not what I asked. Remember what we talked about? Even if you're not physically injured, it doesn't mean you aren't hurt. Now…are you okay?"

"I…will be."

"Alright. Well…did you still want to deliver your gift?"

Another near imperceptible nod from Shadow, and Stone stood back up, shooting the blue hedgehog a glare. Sonic couldn't help but shrink back slightly, feeling similarly to how he did when Maddie or Tom scolded him. He flicked his attention back to Shadow, who stepped forward once more, this time holding the small, now slightly crushed white box out towards Sonic, his red eyes fixed on the doorframe, rather than on the reception of his gift.

"Oh, uh," Sonic gingerly took the box, watching as Shadow quickly stepped back again, his fingers curling anxiously into the sleeves of his jacket, "Thanks?" He glanced up at Tom, who simply shrugged at him and gestured towards the box. Tentatively Sonic opened it, revealing a small, somewhat smushed and obviously homemade cake, with 'I'm Sorry' written in wobbly blue icing across the top. He stared down at the cake for what was probably longer than strictly necessary, momentarily lost in another swirl of confusing emotions.

"Sonic? It's usually polite to say 'thank you' after receiving a gift," Tom's voice broke through the thoughts swirling in Sonic's mind, the blue hedgehog quickly shaking his head.

"Right, yeah," Sonic breathed, looking up to find Shadow's piercing gaze finally focused on him. He swallowed thickly, for once at a loss for words as green met red and they stared each other down. "Thank you," he finally mustered after far too long, his voice weak.

Shadow simply nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "You're welcome," he murmured in return, turning on his heel as if to leave.

"WAIT!"

Stone was already at the bottom of the stairs, while Shadow was halfway down, both pausing to stare at Sonic after his shout. He swallowed, frantically looking up to Tom, who was of no help as he arched a curious brow at Sonic.

"Uh…Maddie just made cookies, and we were going to decorate them! And then, after dinner, Knuckles, Tails and I were going to go look at Christmas lights around town. Can…Do you want to join us?" Sonic quickly rambled, clutching the little cake box to his chest. He looked up to Tom once more, desperation on his face, "Can they stay for dinner?"

Tom snorted quietly, reaching down to gently ruffle Sonic's quills. "Sure, bud. I'll go let Maddie know," he hummed, striding off towards the kitchen, leaving Sonic alone with Stone and Shadow.

"…May I?" Shadow asked, turning towards Stone, who looked mildly surprised.

"I don't see why not," Stone said after a moment with a short shrug, turning to walk back up the stairs, "If you want to."

"I…Yes. I do."

Sonic couldn't help the beaming grin on his face as he stepped aside to let the two surprise guests into the house, now knowing without a doubt that this Christmas was going to be the best one he'd experience to date. He'd make sure of it.

[golbrocklovely]

cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

[d3f3n3str4t10n]

New Year, New Update!

I hope y'all had a good New Year's feast. Ashley certainly has! We'll be eating too, it seems, thanks to this new update!

Firstly, the least exciting thing to someone that's already bought the game: Due to steam pricing jank, they're extending and increasing the discounts for now up until the game's price increases with the release of Episode 3A. Cool!

Next are some words typed straight from Nemlei's hands themselves, describing how working on the game has been like for the past year, and another content comparison between episodes. It's really weird to see it laid out in plain numbers like this, but it does a good job showing the scale of 3a! And they're not even done yet! It's good to hear that the team has gotten into the groove of things, now that all the development issues we saw lined out during the devlogs have been taken care of. Hopefully we won't have to wait too much longer! Now onto the REAL good stuff...

First, we see a pretty familiar corridor. The same one what Andrew confronted Ashley in, during the dream sequence that leads to Episode 3A's beginning. Fortunately however, at least according to Ashley, everything seems to be resolved. I'm honestly a little surprised that they'd share something so... blatant, like this, but maybe that's the trick. We only have Ashley's very untrustworthy words to go off of here, of course.

Next, we see a short reunion. One of Andrew's friends is back! It's unclear whether this is during the present day, or sometime before quarantine, however. Given Andrew's insistence that they drop all contact with anyone they knew during Chapter 1, I'd imagine that if this IS in the present day, Andrew isn't too happy about it. Probably NOT why he's throwing up, though. Either way, he still considers him a friend, so that's nice to see!

And lastly... a video!! Hell yeah! This one shows us the full context for a previous screenshot we saw in one of the devlogs. The video begins with a CG of a VHS rewinding. Whether or not it's meant to be something dietetic or not, it makes it clear that this is meant to be a flashback. We see Friend B and Andrew chatting in their highschool class after the bell has rung. Friend B offers to go to some non-descript event with Andrew, but he can't, because he has work. During this conversation, Ashley barges in, furious that some clique of girls is preventing her from getting a drink.

We then see the CG from the devlog, as well as Andrew's reaction. He tells her to just go with Julia, to then Ashley says they aren't talking at the moment. Something that I don't doubt happened quite a lot, in their "friendship."

On their way to the vending machine so Andrew can sort out the situation... somehow, Andrew realizes he left his notebook back in the classroom and goes back to get it. On his way, he overhears an interesting conversation...

Some guy, presumably an acquaintance or classmate of Friend B, starts talking with them. He calls Andrew a "fucking sissy", and mistakes Ashley as his girlfriend. Again, probably happens a lot. Friend B sticks up for Andrew throughout the conversation, calling out how rude the Douchebag is being to Andrew and how creepy his not-so-subtle suggestions to get with Ashley are. Friend B claims Ashley has "A few screws loose" which may be why he thinks she's so clingy, and why Andrew goes along with it. Because, why would he go along with it, if there wasn't some reason, right? Siblings aren't just LIKE that. The further the Douchebag seems to push it, the more Friend B tells him to knock it off.

Andrew is, at first, confused by the situation, not really understanding what the big deal is. Of course they're close, they're siblings. He has to look out for her, with all the bullies in this school, apparently.

His confusion quickly turns to anger, and he starts to work up the motivation to tell the douchebag off... but he doesn't. The narration then lets us in on another side of Andrew's thought process.

This is the start of Andrew's Denial. This is most likely before the "rumors" Julia brings up begin, perhaps they were even started by this Douchebag. Andrew is finally starting to realize how odd his and Ashley's relationship is. When they were kids, it could be excused and defended by adults as just, them being kids... but they're in High school now. That excuse isn't going to cut it anymore. Andrew though, still doesn't see anything wrong with it. They've been this way forever, and they're fine with it, so why does anyone else care? What's so weird about it? A very well written scene, if you ask me.

Oh, Also there's a Q&A! Check out the steam post to participate! My question was about what Nemlei thinks Andrew and Ashley sound like. Not very creative but eh. Happy New Year, everyone!

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 45

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's (Mother Spore) pov*

Ok, you are done. You thought this was going to be exciting...and it was! At first...but Xonorth and that Quackity guy been talking about what is basically nothing for the last hour and it doesn't seem like It's going to stop being like this for a while still.

You are bored out of your mind, the other villains are fully out and Mumbo looks like he's one loud noise away from folding onto himself and becoming a black hole... You haven't even begun discussing the actual plan to defeat the cult thing! And that's the whole reason why you are here.

So you cough up, you get everyones attention and the room's temperature drops. Everyone is staring at you, Boogeyman is frozen, the duck guy is intrigued, Xonorth just looks offended and the others seem to just be confused.

Mumbo tries to get your attention.

"Mother Spore!"

"..."

"What do you think you are doing???"

"..."

It's kinda sad to watch him struggling like this, you wonder why he came here in the first place when he's so socially anxious. . . He does deserve a bit of an explanation though, call it pity or call it sticking to your deal with him.

"I got bored"

. . .

"Wha-"

You turn.back towards the table, the room only growing more cold as you push fungi to grow in the corners and darker spots of the room.

"I'm sure everyone here was flattered to have been invited here... However I feel the current discussion isn't going anywhere."

Xonorth hits the table with his fists and Mumbo barely restrains himself from jumping back... Xonorth just snarls at you, quite pathetic really.

"These are matters between me and him, do not speak of that which is not any of your buisness Spore."

"They became my buisness...no, our buisness, when you decided to discuss it so boldy here in front of us during this meeting... And It's Mother Spore for your information."

"How dare you! You-"

"Really it is... surprising that you would divulge your own business so freely in front of so many people. Really, if said buisness was anything of worth you would have put yourself in quite the sticky situation. Of course, luckily for you, everything you have discussed thus far was truly a waste of everyone's time."

You hear the noise of someone covering up a laugh and something resembling a dying breath, you can guess the latter was Boogeyman, call it a hunch...

Behind Xonorth tendrils grow out and spread, the others don't really look impressed, so that's how he wants to play? His loss. You can do that as well, the wall behind You is soon covered in mycelium... He even tries to attack you, sending a tendril your way but you just sidestep it and grab it, as you keep hold on it as mushrooms begin to grow onto it until it is dried out completely and turns to dust.

"Me and Boogeyman were told there would be no fighting here, clearly we were lied to."

Here the casino owner is shocked out his stupor and moves to de-escalate the tension between you and the other.

"No! Ehm, I mean, I'm sure we can resolve this like civilized men."

Can you, you are no man and Xonorth is hardly civilized.

"We have still much to discuss after all. For example-"

"The plan. To deal with that...eggpire problem?"

"Ehm, why yes!"

"Perfect, then we'll stay here a while longer, just to hear the details"

You sit back down, Boogeyman is still frozen in place, you might have to check if he's still alive though, It's hard to tell still the way his breathing is so shallow.

"Recently I have discovered a banquet is going to be held by the Egg bastards and I got an in on how to get in."

Boogeyman unfreezes at that and still slightly shaken asks one very important question.

"And why do you need us?"

"You, I need you for some technical work to deal with some of their weirdly advanced protections, they spent a pretty huge amount of capital on protecting their egg... As for everyone else I might have a way in but we need power if we want to do anything against them"

"So? You want to crash this party then?"

"That's the plan, at least the basis of it"

". . . I see, guessing there's more of it."

"Of course, that's what I hoped all of you would join me in ironing out."

[justmeinadaze]

We're A Family Part 24 (Steddie X You)

A/N: So I am calling this the final part just because it IS the final part of the main story but I'm not done with this little family. I still have a few ideas for them so it won't be the last we see.

Warnings: Dads SteddieX Mom Fem Y/N, SMUT of the passionate tender variety that comes with these three, No real ANGST, Dylan going off to college and the three parents here dealing with that. Some flashbacks of Dylan and the reader struggling with Charlie.

The biggest feels here will come along with anyone who has experienced empty nest syndrome so be aware of that.

FLUFF, The guys talk a lot about how much they love their son and vice versa <3.

Word Count: 4965

Good Neighbors/ We're a Family

Your eyes run along newborn Dylan’s little sleeping face as his tiny hand holds your finger. Charlie had passed out long ago, curled up on the makeshift bed as he softly snored. They could be twins. 

“I’m glad you’re finally here. Your daddy and I have been so excited to meet you.”, you coo in a gentle tone. “I promise, baby, you are going to have the best life. I’ll do anything I can to protect you and make you happy just like my dad did. I wish you could have met him. He would have adored having a grandson.”

Your voice cracks as tears sting your eyes at the thought. Dylan wiggles a bit in your hold as if he was getting more comfortable as his head turned towards your chest. 

Tilting down, you tenderly kiss his forehead and inhale his baby smell. 

“I love you so much.”

***

“Hey, sit your little butt down.”, Eddie teases as he lightly tugs on Aurora’s skirt, ushering her to sit beside him.

“But then I can’t see Dylan!”

“Thankfully the ceremony hasn’t started yet so there’s nothing for you to see.”

Vivian chuckles above him as Ro sticks out her tongue and the metalhead does the same.

“She’s definitely got some personality.”

“Yeah, she gets that from her mother.”, Steve jokes as he shifts James in his lap while the little boy continues to play with the man’s tie. 

You smile his way but quickly focus back on the students in their seats on the lawn a feet away from the bleachers your family was sitting on. Dylan was laughing with his friends around him and occasionally winking at Daisy from her seat down the way. God, he had picked up way too much from Eddie. 

This was a lot harder than you thought it would be. It felt like you were just holding him in arms feeding him a bottle and now suddenly he’s graduating high school. In a week he would be in a completely new state and living his own adult life. 

Why did he have to grow up so fast?

The feeling of fingers brushing your hair behind your ear brought you back to realty before you were being pulled to Steve’s side.

“I know, baby. I know.”

A ringed hand encapsulated your own as Eddie kissed the back of it and didn’t let go till the end of the ceremony. Feeling little hands play with your hair, you tilt your head back to see Brody beaming wide before giggling and kissing your forehead. 

“Yeah, he’s been doing that lately and we can’t figure out why.”, Vivian’s new boyfriend explained as he lifted him onto his lap. 

An accountant, this man was definitely different from Charlie which having been a partner to him as well you understood why she would go down that route. Eddie and Steve liked him even though the metalhead would tease him from time to time when he got a bit too excited when talking about numbers. You and Dylan made sure to remind him that he was the exact same when it came to D&D and he immediately shut up. 

“Ed here used to hug people when he was a toddler. Pure strangers, he would just run to them and give ‘em a hug.”, Wayne chimed in making Steve chuckle at the thought. 

Your mom and Mrs. Harrington weren’t able to make it to the ceremony due to previous commitments they were unable to squeeze out of but Kierra promised to record everything which she did with her phone held high in the air. Wayne and Mrs. Harrington were honestly surprised Dylan wanted them there. 

“They’re my grandparents to. Why wouldn’t I want them there?”

Steve’s mom cried when he told her and Eddie’s uncle turned into the equivalent of goo as he blushed. 

Even after the months that had passed, your son followed through with not having Charlie there, the three of you sitting with him in his room as he made the call. He texted you after asking if it would be ok to swing by at least before he left for college and you told him you were ok with that. 

Everyone quieted down as the principal walked across the stage and began the graduation ceremony.

###########

Your eyes shift between your husband and your four-year-old son as they pick at the food on their plates. Charlie’s fingers moved quickly along his phone and it killed you. You hated that thing and how much time he spent on it. 

“Baby?”

“Hm.”

“Charles.”

“What, Y/N?”, he snaps. 

“Why don’t you put your phone down, huh?”

“I’m talking to my boss.”

“Ok. Can he not wait until after dinner?” When he ignores you, your worried eyes glance towards Dylan whose wide observant ones immediately focused back down on his plate. “Charlie, come on. I’m asking for one hour.”

“Jesus.”, he whines as he slams down his device making you and your son jump. “I’m dealing with a big important thing for work…to make us money…for you and Dylan but sure! Let me put everything on the back burner! How was your day, honey?”

Throwing a scowl his way, you try to ignore his sarcasm but he persists. 

“No, hey. My phones away, let’s talk! No? Ok, hey, Dil. How was your day?!” Without saying a word, your son gets up and runs to his bedroom. “Well that’s great.”

“What do you expect when you talk to him like that? Why is it so hard for you to be here and present with your family?”, you hiss. 

“What the fuck do you want from me, Y/N?! Do you want this fucking roof over your goddamn heads?! That cost money, baby! Whatever. I’m fucking done with this conversation.”

Your jaw tightens as you listen to him get up, grab his jacket, and slam the front door as he leaves. 

***

“Dylan? Weirdo, are you ok?” Your heart breaks when he doesn’t answer, pressing his little face further into his pillow. Sighing, you climb in beside him and run your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, baby. Daddy didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

Rolling over, he wraps his arms around you and you rest your head on his as you hold him tightly. 

“Daddy’s always angry.”

“But never at you, Dylan. He loves you so much.”

“And you?”

“Does daddy love me? Yeah, honey, of course.”

“Den why he so mad all da time?”

You genuinely had no idea how to answer that question as you kissed his forehead. Your brain began to wonder as you thought about what would be best. Divorce popped in occasionally but you immediately shook away the notion. You and Charlie both lost your dads. You didn’t want that for him. 

You can make this work. Maybe there’s something you could do to get the man you fell in love with back so the three of you could be happy. 

***

Dylan excitedly runs in your direction but Aurora and James cut his parents off as they get to him first. The boy effortlessly picks them up with each arm and Steve grins as he takes a picture. 

“I’m free!”

“We’re so proud of you, babe.”, Vivian praises as she kisses his cheek before Brody does the same making your son laugh. 

“Very proud.”, Wayne smiles, thrown off when Dylan places his siblings down and gives the man a hug. Eddie chuckles through his teeth as his uncle lightly smacks his chest before wrapping his arms around the boy. 

“How dare you make me feel old.”, Kierra playfully scolds as she kisses his face. 

“A high school graduate and on your first go around!”, the metalhead jokes as he leans in for a hug. “You’re amazing, kid.”

“I guess I can’t call you ‘little man’ anymore.”, Steve says as he takes the boy in his arms. 

“You still can and you can never stop calling me ‘weirdo’.”, Dylan replies gesturing towards you. 

“You’re always going to be my little weirdo.”

He softly smiles as he bends to embrace you allowing you to circle your arms around his neck as he lifts you off your feet. 

“I love you, mom. Thank you for everything.”

#############

A seven-year-old Dylan clings to your neck as you hold him to you against the wall of the pool at the apartment complex. Eddie insisted he could beat Steve in a race and the former swimmer promptly took the challenge. 

“1! 2! 3! GO!”, your son shouted, giggling as both men splashed water everywhere as they took off. 

“I told you!”, Steve gloated as he beat the metalhead effortlessly. “You went to school with me. You should have known better.”

Eddie pants as he finally reaches the wall beside you.

“Jesus, I need to stop smoking.”

You and Dylan laugh at him as the other boy pulls his body out of the pool and leans down to take the small boy from you. 

“I’m starving. Munson is buying dinner since he sucks—lost—I mean lost.”

Scowling his way, the long-haired man helps you out of the water and wraps a towel around your body. 

When you four make it back to the apartment, Steve sighs as he realizes he has a couple of missed calls. 

“It’s from the store. I just need one minute.”

Dylan’s head hangs as he wraps his towel tighter around him and heads for his bedroom to change. Grabbing his arm, you stop him and move some of the hair that had stuck to his forehead.

“Hey Keith, what’s going on?...You need me to come in…” Eddie’s chocolate eyes watch both of you intensely as you cup your son’s face in your hands. “Ok, well, I’m not free today but if you call Robin she can help today and I can come in tomorrow.”

Your son’s head shot up to look towards Steve as he gave his boss a few more uh huhs before finally turning around and throwing his phone back down on your couch. 

“What?”, he asked when he realized you three were watching him. “What’s wrong, little man? Everything ok?”

“Y-You…you don’t have to leave?”

“No? I’m spending the day with you, bud. Why would I even want to leave?”, he chuckled a bit confused. Tears leave the small boy’s eyes as he runs and practically tackles Steve’s legs. 

“Thank you.”

“Hey. Go change so you can come back and tell Eddie what you want him to buy you.”, you instructed as you tickle his neck with your finger. 

As soon as he disappears, you tackle your arms around his waist and lean your head on his chest.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not quite sure what I did but you’re both welcome.”

Tilting back, you softly press your lips to his. 

“Thank you for being you.”

***

After putting Aurora to bed, you stepped outside on to your back porch where Eddie was already into his second cigarette with a beer in his hand. As you sat beside him on the steps, you scanned him over truly taking in how much he had changed in almost 12 years. He looked incredibly handsome in his button up short sleeve shirt and tie with black slacks that Steve insisted he wear to look more formal. 

He had his hair pulled back for the ceremony but now it was down around his shoulders. As he brought the cigarette to this lips you couldn’t help but admire his wedding band that blended in perfectly with his other rings. 

Visually, he still more or less looked the same with a few new signs of aging in his face and more laugh lines around his eyes but what really shifted was his demeanor. While Eddie always had an air of confidence, he seemed to carry it differently now that he was older. Most of the burdens he held before he no longer had because he was finally genuinely happy. He had everything he could have ever asked for and more. 

Silently, he handed you his half-finished cigarette that you eagerly sucked on as he took a sip from the bottle in his hand.

“What are you thinking about?”, you ask as you lean against the rail beside you. 

“You.”, he smiles. “Steve. Dylan. Ro. James. My family.”

“Anything in particular?”

His lips pout out slightly as he shakes his head and continues looking off towards the lake. 

“When I caught Charlie and Vivian, I remember going off on him and then running out the door. I felt so lost and confused. I didn’t know where to go because I knew if I went home my mom would make me feel bad. I was too embarrassed at the time to go to Kierra’s and I didn’t have any friends I felt comfortable with. I pulled over on the side of the road and sobbed.”

Eddie’s hand reaches out to intertwine with yours making you smile as you glance in the distance was well. You both listened as shoes scooted along the wood, sliding over a chair as Steve exhaled taking a seat. The metalhead lifted his bottle in the air that the other man took and chugged back the remaining liquid. 

“If you had told me then that I would be here in this big house where my two other kids are sleeping after seeing Dylan graduate high school and with two men who are not only fabulous husbands and partners but phenomenal dads to a little boy… who just wanted to be appreciated for who he was…”

The metalhead wiped his eyes as the tears began to flow from them both. 

“I know…you said once that its easier for me to hold it all in when it comes to him but… Y/N, when his principal said ‘Dylan Munson-Harrington’… it all just hit me. All the memories and the fact that he’s leaving in a week. I mean this kid has been with us since the beginning.”

“Since day one.”, Steve added. “Shit. If you had told us the night before that tomorrow I would open the door to a little boy that would change everything… Y/N, growing up the thought of being a dad scared me but it always felt easy with him.”

“He always wanted to learn and asked me constantly to show him how to play my guitar.”, Eddie laughed. “I remember one of our first conversations was when we came over and I hooked up the video game system. I asked him what kind of games he liked and he just lit up, sweetheart. When he told me Charlie never liked the things he did or played with him he made me think of my dad. Allen was the same way and I didn’t want that for him.”

 “And that’s just the beginning. Don’t even get me started on all the other feelings about how he’ll be the first Munson to go to school and get a degree.”, Eddie laughed as he leaned back against Steve’s leg. “I’m so proud of him but I’m really going to fucking miss him.”

“Me to.”

“Me to.”, you add. “Thank you for being you.”

##################

“Dad? Can I ask you something?”, a twelve-year-old Dylan inquires as Eddie starts to walk past his door after putting his sister to bed. 

“Yeah, kid. What’s up?”

“How did you ask a girl out when you were my age?”

“Oof. I had all the girls lined up around the block to date me! Oh, wait, that was Steven.”, he teased making his son laugh. “When I was your age I had this huge crush on a girl in my English class. She was one of the popular kids and I was terrified to say anything. But one day we got paired up for a project and I made her laugh. Just started acting like a total dork and she loved it.”

“So…be funny?”

“I mean, there’s a bit more to it but…” Eddie pauses as he starts to panic, fearful he’s giving the boy the worst advice. “Look, Dylan, my dad wisdom to you? Just be yourself. Steve and I had an ex that was so uptight. She hated that I ‘couldn’t be serious.’ Truth was she didn’t like me for me. Your mom on the other hand loves my nerdy ass and my sense of humor.”

Dylan beams as his dad pulls him in for a hug.

“Can I find out who this girl is? I swear I won’t tell Y/N.”

 “It’s, um, I kind of…really like…Daisy.”

Eddie tries to contain his giddiness at his son’s admission. Steve had called it a long time ago and you had mentioned how cute he seemed to get every time Daisy would come over.

“Dude, come on. She definitely likes you for you. I see you make her laugh all the time and listen to her when she seems upset. You offered to help her with school. You’re a good dude.”

“But what if she only wants to be friends?”

“Then that’s ok to and you know no matter what the three of us will be here with pizza and beer to cure your heartache.”

“Mom won’t let you give me beer!”, Dylan chuckles.

“Meh, you’re right. Ok, Steve and I will sneak you into the bar then.”

***

It was so soft you barely felt it at first, both their lips kissing and sucking on either side of your neck. When your eyes fluttered open, you took in the scene before you. Eddie and Steve were pressed against your sides, their arms thrown over your body as palms rubbed along your tummy and chest. There was a neediness behind their subtle movements that had you whimpering as you arched your head back to allow them more access as their mouths opened wider to run their tongues along your skin. 

Steve was the first to move, placing his body on top of yours and pulling down his boxers enough to free his cock. As he leaned back on his heels to remove his shirt, the metalhead’s lips mingled with your own, his hand cupping your cheek to keep you facing him. After wrapping your legs around his waist, the other man guided himself into your entrance and Eddie mewled as you heavily exhaled at the feeling. 

Steve’s large, soft hand traveled to your breasts, kneading your tits as he rolled his hips at steady pace. When his palm finds your throat, his eyes meet yours and you nod earnestly granting him permission before lightly squeezing it between his fingers. 

Jumping to the side, Eddie hastily removes his clothes, stroking his cock at the sight of you both as he crawls back in beside you. Opening your mouth, now desperate to taste him, he accepts your invitation, moaning loudly as your tongue plays with his tip and your head bobs. 

Slanting his lower half till he was hovering just above you, Steve thrusts into you harder and faster as his own tongue extends out to help you lick his husband’s length. After readjusting himself, the metalhead clung to the other man’s hair as he pumped his dick down his throat causing him to slightly gag and constrict around him while you clung to Steve’s shoulders smothering your moans against his skin. 

It was almost too much as your pussy quivered around him and you came, his palm immediately coming to cover your mouth as he fucked you through your high. Eddie laid back down on his side, tilting his head to kiss the lips of the man he loved as he grunted and his warm release filled you up. 

Taking you in his arms, the long-haired boy maneuvered you around until you were on top of him with your back against his chest. You couldn’t help but shiver against his body as he ran his leaking tip through your dripping folds, grazing your clit and making you whine. 

As soon as his cock entered you, he set an animalistic pace as his dick slammed into your sensitive spot repeatedly. 

“Oh, fu--!”

Eddie’s ring covered hand cut you off, covering your mouth as you started to scream at the sudden feeling of Steve’s tongue flicking your bundle of nerves. Your own hand rested on his as your fingers intertwined with the one he had gripping your stomach. 

The way he groaned in your ear, you knew the pretty boy was altering between you and Eddie as he played with your nub and sucked on the other man’s balls. It drove him wild as he pushed against your back, forcing you to sit up as he grabbed both sides of your hips and guided your movements. 

Steve’s fingers slid into your mouth, hoping to silence you as he continued pleasuring you both. As you neared your climax, it wasn’t enough and Eddie flipped you over so you could shove your face into the pillow and shout as you fell over the ledge. Lying flat against your back, he held your hands as his forehead leaned against your shoulder warming your skin as he panted. 

 Grunts filled your ears and with a few more rough thrusts, he emptied inside of you. 

You laid there quietly until Steve motioned for you both to follow and guided you two in the shower with him. You allowed them to clean you as you watched them carefully, Eddie closing his eyes as he leaned his head back under the hot water and Steve sighing as he pressed his back against the cold tile. 

“I’m proud of you two.” Their heads lifted to look at you as you continued. “He may be the first Munson to go to college but he learned that hard work ethic for you, Eddie. You own your own store and work hard to take care of everyone not just us. Steve, you showed him he could achieve anything he wanted by following your dream and becoming a teacher.”

“My son was always a good kid but because of you two he’s happy. I’m going to miss him but I’m not worried about his future because of everything you both have done for him. I’ll never be able to thank you properly…”

As the tears start to flow arms wrap around you from behind and Steve promptly tugs you both forward as he presses your head to his chest.

“I would hold that thought…we still have two kids left to fuck up.”

You and the man in front of you giggle at Eddie’s comment as the heavy air breaks and you shake your head as you turn around to give him a big hug. 

#############

A six-year-old Dylan smiles up at you from his place in bed as he waits for you to tuck him in. 

A couple of nights ago, Eddie and Steve had come over to spend time with him when his father bailed and that night you three were intimate in their apartment after he had gone to bed. It had been two days since you saw them and you couldn’t stop thinking about them. 

“Mommy? When are we going to hang out wit-wit Eddie and Steve again?”

Softly grinning, you climbed in beside him and he promptly curled up at your side. 

“You liked spending time with them?”

“Yeah! Mom, Eddie is-is-is so funny and Steve said he would play basketball wit me. I love them!”

“Oh my goodness!”, you tease as you pull him close and kiss the top of his head. “Yeah, they were fun to hang out with and they told me that you’re an amazing kid.”

He blushes as you smile, turning off his little lamp as you continue to run your fingers through his hair. 

“Do you like hanging out wit dem?”

“Yeah, baby, I did.”

“Good cause…you seem…different…around dem…”

“Different how, weirdo?”

“Happy.”

***

James and Aurora clung to Dylan’s neck as their dads finished putting the last remaining boxes in the U-Haul. 

“Guys, I’m not going away forever and you know I’ll call you both every day.”

“You promise you’ll come home for Christmas and my birthday?”

“Of course, Ro. Unless you get a boyfriend you’d rather hang out with.”

“I didn’t hear that.”, Steve teases making them laugh. 

“Love you, bra-der.”

“I love you to, kid.”

“Ok, guys we have to let Dylan go.” Your voice cracked as you lightly pulled on your daughter’s curls. “Rara, why don’t you and James go watch some TV and I will make you guys lunch in a minute, ok?”

After giving them one last kiss, he drops them to their feet and both kids wave before running inside the house. He grins down at you as you wrap your arms around him and he holds you tightly. 

“I love you so much.”

“I love you to, mom.”

The sound of the truck clanging shut pulled you both apart as you kissed his cheek and he playfully whined as he lightly pushed you. Both men shuffled slowly around the corner as they waited for their turn to say goodbye. 

Smiling their way, you scooted towards the porch and sat on the steps so they could be alone.

“So, let us know when you get there and that you and Daisy are safe.”

“And if you need anything and I mean anything just give us a call and we’ll fly right over no questions asked.”, Eddie added making Dylan grin. 

“I know you would and that’s why you’re my dads.”, he replied. “I don’t remember a whole lot from their marriage but I do remember my mom was always trying to keep it together. Always carrying this burden that she thought I couldn’t see. The first time I ever saw her genuinely smile was that first time you two came over.”

“Daisy and I have been talking these past couple of weeks and she feels bad about leaving her mom here with her dad. It wasn’t until she said it that I realized, I don’t have that problem because I know she’s safe with you.”

“Jesus Christ, kid.”, Eddie chuckled as he tried to hide the tears that had fallen. “Still the fucking kid spy for the CIA or some shit.” Everyone laughed including you even though you couldn’t hear their conversation. “You’ve always been really smart and so fucking kind. I know you always used to say how much you loved that we listened to you and cared about things you were into but you have no idea how much it meant to me when you did that for me. The way you listened to me babble about D & D and guitar—”

“Hey, now, the guitar is awesome.”

“Yeah it is.”, the metalhead grins. “What I’m trying to say is I was always afraid of becoming Allen but you taught me that as a father and a man I could be like Wayne… I love you, kid, and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He leans in to give his son a hug and you smile as you picture the small kid that played video games with him 24/7. The young boy that ran into Eddie’s arms after his talent show where he had taught him to play the guitar. The little boy who in his most terrifying moment called the metalhead first to come help him because he felt safe with him. 

“I know I can be a bit overprotective but…”, Steve laughed breathily as they beamed at him. “…Like Ed said, you were such a good kid and I hated, fucking hated, when Charlie would hurt you. No one ever stood up for me when I was growing up. I was always alone in our big house and anytime my dad was an asshole I just kind of absorbed it. I didn’t want that for you…any of you three. I knew I wanted my kids to have a happy home where they felt safe coming to me. Dylan, you were my son before you even started calling me dad. Even if you had decided to keep your last name and kept calling him dad, you would still be our son. I love you to, little man.”

As they embrace and your oldest begins to cry against his shoulder, you see the six-year-old that clung to Steve when he was in the hospital sick with a fever. The small boy who stood down an adult like Mr. Harrington and scolded him for being rude to “his daddy”. The young man who held him tightly as his own biological parent broke his heart and he listened to the man he now saw as his father defend and protect him. 

“Ok, ok. Come on. You have to go. Daisy is waiting for you.” Steve lifts the boys head and wipes his tears with his thumbs as they both grin at him comfortingly. “And you’re right by the way. She is safe with us. Nothing bad is going to happen to Y/N or your siblings, ok?”

Nodding, he gives you one final wave as he hops into the truck and slowly begins driving down the road. 

“Are you ok?”, you ask as you come up behind them. 

“Yeah, sweetheart. You?”

“I’m sure I will be.”

“Yeah…”, Eddie agrees as he pulls your back against his chest and rests his head on your shoulder. “At least I get my guitar room back.”

“Oh really?!”, Steve shouts as the metalhead takes your hand and the three of you head towards your front door. “I thought we all agree I could have an office.”

“Yes, Steven, because grading papers requires a whole room for you.”

“Eddie, stop it.”, you giggle as you push up on your toes to kiss their lips. 

##################

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @strangerfreak

@dad-steddie @manda-panda-monium @alligator-person

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

@k-k0129 @micheledawn1975 @eddie86baby

@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri

@sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86 @dashingdeb16 @thwippyparker

[random-gamer1942]

(1/7) The train that was

Trainwreck Graveyard

(2/7) Ready to go

The train started coming to a halt about a minute after the explosion

Why do these things have to be so loud, the sheriff thought, ears still ringing. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, before attempting to stand up

Her legs were a bit shaky, but she couldn't care less with the situation at hand. Once the train had fully stopped, she stepped onto the ground through the missing back of the cabin and looked off into the distance

Broken pieces of metal were scattered everywhere, and the rails had been damaged. The last 2 cabins had been disconnected and derailed where the explosion happened a good 70-80 yards back, and was currently on it's side

Thankfully she didn't see anyone in there. The train station only let you walk directly into the first three cabins and this was a less busy time of week, but this could've been bad

As she started walking to investigate the site, someone approuched from the train. She looked back and saw a man that looked annoyed - and what she very easily recognized as a concealed sawed-off shotgun in his coat

With a smooth motion she pulled both her revolvers. "I know a thug when I see one, who the hell are you?"

He flinched, but didn't do anything. Instead, he said "The 2 that rode off don't count then? Besides, not everything revolves around you, big-shot. I gotta find those outlaws before I lose this gig."

"Gi-? Ah, hired protection. Say, you talk big for someone who should've prevented this in the first place."

"Whatever, just let me do my job", he said, walking towards the disconnected cabins to investigate, with the sheriff following suit

After a few minutes of looking around they discovered 2 things: 1) tracks, clearly from horses, and 2) a monocle, but from one of those outlaws. It seems there had been someone in the cabin after all, though there was no trace of them...

The man turned to the sheriff. "Well, good luck with writing a report or whatever, I'm off", as he started following the tracks.

"Hold your horses, cowboy. No way are you going after them by yourself, can't have another missing person on my conscience."

"I don't plan on going missing Ms. Big-shot. But fine, come along if you have to."

"Stop calling me that, my name's Ashlyn."

"No thanks, I'm fine with Big-shot. But for the sake of pleasantries, I'm Tyler."

She sighed. She didn't like working with others, especially knuckleheads like him. But she had this strange feeling she was gonna need all the help she could get. And right as she thought that, someone else came running up

"An adventure!? I'm coming along!", said the woman, who looked very excited. And kind of like the knucklehead too, the sheriff thought

"No way Tay, too dangerous. Besides, shouldn't you stay behind to fix the train?"

"C'mon Ty, not even I could fix this by myself. The conductor has already sent for help from a few other mechanics, they won't even notice I'm gone."

"But-"

"Besides, mom said we should always stick together. I'm going."

"Fine. But is the luggage really necessary", he asked, gesturing at the large backpack she had with her

"You never know what you'll need, and you always take too little with you. And I'm carrying it myself, so stop complaining", she snapped back

He sighed, defeated. Siblings, good to know, Ash noted. And soon, they were ready to set off

...

Aiden sat on the back of his cousin's horse, looking at the sunset. "Say Stache, why in tarnation did we take that softie again?"

The man on the horse next to him with a large moustache looked increasingly annoyed from being asked the same question for the who-knows-how-oftenth time. "Smiles, I swear to the lord in the heavens above, if you ask me that question again I'll throw this shrimp on your guys' horse."

"It don't make no sense to me though..."

"For the LAST time, he's important leverage for the possible skirmishes next week."

"But why'd they give two shit bout 'im? 'Leverage' didn't work last time."

"That's because you're the only person on this darned earth insane enough to enjoy being kidnapped by criminals, and whose parents would for some reason be okay with you wanting to stay?"

"I mean, it do be excitin', don't it?"

"Just shut up, you're givin' me another headache. Besides, we're here."

He pointed to a cave about 300 yards away, with dim orange light coming out of it. After riding for a few more moments the 4 horses came to a stop. The cousins, the man with a moustache, and 3 others stepped off their horses

The man who rode in front grabbed a weird object from his horse and gave the reins to one of the other outlaws

"Cwrwfwll wwth thwt", the kid on the back of Stache's horse mumbled through the cloth in his mouth, but noone paid him any mind

"Scars, Salted, tie them horses down. Stache, grab that kid and come with me. Same for y'all, Smiles, Silent."

Some 'yes sir's and 'alrighty's were said and Ben nodded. Stache threw the young 20-something with light brown hair over his shoulder and, together with the cousins, started following the boss

Inside, they saw a handful of others sitting around a campfire. The group, including them, consisted of about a dozen outlaws, ranging from about 16 to 40 years old

A few of them greeted the boss and the three others as they came walking in. A bit later, the last to also came to join them

(3/7): Calm Camps

"Alrighty, seems everyone's here. I think we're almost ready boys. A few more days and our names will be known throughout the county", the leader said, lighting a cigar. "A few more days..."

[rallamajoop]

More random details from the depths of RE8

With the excuse of trying some shiny new mods, I've been replaying RE8 lately for the umpteenth time. Given the number of hours I've already poured into this game, you'd really think there'd be nothing left to find by this stage ‒ yet here I am, finding still more details I'd somehow missed the first half-dozen times through.

For one, there's the fact you can actually find Eva's grave in the graveyard outside the church. As the only photo we ever see of her shows her as a baby, I'd assumed she was still a baby when she died, but turns out, she was ten years old.

"Eva, June 1909 ‒ August 1919

May you slumber for only a short while"

As expected, her death of the Spanish flu took place in 1919. There's some semi-legible text on the stone, but it doesn't match the caption ‒ it's just the same generic filler text you'll find on half the gravestone assets in this game.

For another, there's Rose's baby monitor. I'd noticed Ethan turning the thing on when he puts her to bed, and even found the assets for its screen ‒ but since I'd never found the monitor itself, I assumed they must be unused.

Until this playthrough, when suddenly I'm just like, oh, there it is, sitting right on the table. You can even interact with it!

How did I miss this so many times? It is pretty easy to overlook, given you'll trigger the cutscene with Mia if you go much closer to the kitchen, but I'm still surprised I never spotted it before. (And you do have to wonder if there was ever any plan for it to show a glimpse of something more sinister than just a still-image of Rose sleeping.)

In other minor details, there's the bit where Ethan arrives on the outskirts of the village at 8AM. You can hear a clock striking 8 times as you get your first view of area.

Granted, this is not going to excite anyone who hasn't spent as long as I have putting together an hour-by-hour timeline of everything that happens in this game, but I still do love that they give you enough detail that that's even possible ‒ and this new timestamp fits right into that timeline. (And why yes I have just gone back and updated that post, what do you take me for?)

Speaking of assets I thought were unused, you know that hidden room under the castle you can't get into until later, where you have to solve a puzzle that involves setting a moroaica on fire? Have you ever looked closely at the tapestries decorating this place? Because I found them in the game files ages ago, and have been trying to figure out if they're actually in the game ever since.

Because seriously, look at these things!

Yes, that is a indeed a man with a sword and spear, wearing a hoplite helmet and sandals and nothing else. And the women seeing him from the front seem to be having a whole range of reactions to all that, er, weaponry being brandished their way. Isn't fine art wonderful?

Another asset I'd innocently assumed was unused is this wonderful bit of bullshit which was labeled simply 'antibow'. It wasn't until I took a long look at it that I realised what they meant was more like 'anti-B.O.W.', as in Bio-Organic-Weapon.

Yes, that is indeed a knife taped to some kind of grenade. Sure is one high-tech outfit we're working with here!

Only now do I spot that this is actually the bomb Chris chucks at the Megamycete in the cavern. It doesn't even come with the knife already attached, he just kind of sticks the knife onto the bomb and presumably straps some tape around them while the camera cuts away.

I still have so much more to share from my ongoing free-camera adventures, but I think we'll leave this one there for today.

[bitterbutblue]

december 1998 (上)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

guys the taylor swift all too well references were unintentional oh my god i didnt even realise until i was proofreading it but i also need u to imagine the vibes of all too well 10 minute version as u read this chapter ok ... i am trying to get out as many chapters as i can before i go into my inevitable hiatus as march comes around because march is a HELLISH month in uni

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

She still remembers how excited you used you get at the first glimpse of snow of the year, pointing out the window and shouting. Teachers would shush you, your mom would scold you, but you'd still react with the same eagerness. You'd put down whatever it was you were doing, school work or your bow or whatever drawing you were working on and run to the window with this glint in your eyes that one would only find in a child whose light hasn't yet been dimmed by the harshness of the world. She remembers it vividly, all too well, as she stands in the dark, the first fall of snow. Her feet aching, joints sore and her sweat-damp shirt sticking uncomfortably to her back beneath her layers of thermals and jackets but all she can focus on is the first fall of snow and if you were still as eager to see the snow. It's sickening, having to think of you all the time now but she's back with everything that screams you.

"I don't know why I'm so bothered by all this, I can't focus, I can't work I can't do anything!"

Sunday just lets out a sigh, waiting for Robin to calm down as he continues cooking dinner.

"Like- like it's been years since we stopped talking, but now that she's back she is all I can think about. I can't focus in class, and seeing her with Stelle just irks me in all the wrong ways. I don't even know why. She's not a part of my life anymore, why do I care so much!" she flops onto the couch, halovian wings covering her face as she digs her fingers into her hair, letting out a frustrated groan.

"Well, considering that you ended things on bad terms, perhaps it is the guilt of it all that is making it hard for you to let go." Sunday muses quietly, and Robin huffs.

"How do you suggest I go on about this?"

"Talk to her?"

"No!"

Sunday lets out another sigh, putting down the spatula, turning the flame down a bit so that he can look at her.

"Robin. The reason why you can't move on is because you can't move on is because you can't forgive yourself. If you don't want to get closure by talking, you will have to learn to move on without closure then. Just nothing but burying it with the respect it deserves."

That conversation with Sunday rings in her head all practice session, his words cutting a wound deep in her chest and reopening stitches she worked so hard on putting together again after watching them be ripped open at the sight of you. By the time Topaz (politely) kicked her out of the dance room, she was already a mutilated corpse, only shaped to look alive. Topaz's face was etched with worry, offering to take her out to get some snacks but she refused with a well-practiced smile that didn't seem to work on the student council member as well as it did with others. December 14th. She had 2 days left until the big audition. One that would maybe put her back in the light that had gone dim when she moved to the states. Maybe this time. Looking across the street, she was ready to cross until she hears a loud ... cry? Scream? Either way, the sound had her flinching violently. A sound like a roar of frustration, using anger to mask the pain beneath because that sound was all too familiar- she hears it coming out of her own throat. The sound echoes from the indoor tennis courts, the only building in the school with the lights still on. Curious, she diverts herself from her original path and finds herself peeking through the windows of the sports hall. Of course, the sight in front of her has her swallowing.

You were sat in the centre of the court, head in your hands, bow resting in the bow stand next to you. In the empty courts, you look tiny. You weren't that fifteen year old who shocked the entire world, you weren't that child prodigy archer who outdid her own mother. You were just a high schooler, frustrated, angry. You were just a kid and Robin feels something stir inside her at the sight of you looking so small. Too small.

"I think you don't want to give up on Y/n. As much as you tell yourself it's in the past, you want to reignite the flame to a light that's already out. You can always try, light as many matchsticks as you want. Maybe the candle wick still works, but maybe it's too battered to be used again. You'll never know until you try, or you can just leave the box of matchsticks on the counter and never approach the topic again. Buy a new lamp, a new candle. But throw the old one out for good, knowing both you and it had done all you could do. Now come on, dinner's ready."

Before she even realises what she's doing, Robin finds herself walking over to you. The loud creak of the hall door opening doesn't even have you flinching, you didn't even look up. Like a magnet, she's drawn in ways she can't explain. She knows she needs to give you the space you need, the space you asked for. Yet here you sat, alone in the massive gymnasium with nothing but the weight of the world on your shoulders and she wants to alleviate some of it for you.

"Y/n?"

She kneels down next to you, unsure if she should reach out and pat your shoulder. She doesn't know what to do with her hands, she doesn't know what to do with herself.

"Robin."

Her name slipping from your lips has chills travelling down her spine, cold and sharp. Your voice is drained, hoarse and quiet. The exhaustion leaks through each breath you take, each word you enunciate. She hears herself in your voice and that's the last thing she wants to hear; you in a state similar to hers. She takes a shaky breath, unsure how to approach the topic at hand.

"Are you okay?"

You finally turn to look at her, and her heart stops at the eye contact. The glare in your eyes is harsh, cold. But the sharpness in your eyes seemed to fade the second your eyes made contact, as if you recognise something in her eyes. The look is exhaustion, the shared exhaustion that lingers in the room. So you sigh.

"No."

She swallows again.

"I'm sorry."

You move to look at the target face ahead, the centre of it completely battered but it is still not good enough for you. You looked so much older compared to the first day where she watched you almost get run over. A few months had passed, yet you had aged significantly. Your eyes sunken, eye bags heavy and exhaustion etched across every feature on your face.

"I'm going to pretend you're like, March, or something, for a second. Is that okay?"

Robin nods.

"I'm really tired." Your voice cracks slightly, and you clear your throat to hide it as best as you can "It's not good enough. I have one of the biggest international competitions for archery aside from the War Dance in March and I'm regressing. My mom has noticed, she's been talking more with coach and clearly it's not enough and my average is dropping and I can't fucking figure out what I'm doing and my grades are slipping and Stelle-"

A tense silence fills the hall as you cut yourself off after saying that girl's name and Robin hates the way her stomach churns at the idea of what you could have said next. But that's really not what matters right now.

"It sounds like a lot." She finds herself speaking without really thinking about the words that are coming out. Right now, the person sat next to her isn't just you, but someone who needs comforting. And she finds herself putting aside her worries, fears, her anxiety around you, because right now you need someone. She stares down at the ground, picking at the sides of her shoes "I know where you're coming from. But you've worked hard, Y/n. You can only push yourself so far until your mind breaks down, because it's not all physical. It's mental too."

She doesn't realise that your gaze had softened completely, shoulders relaxed as you take in her words, eyes darting over her face. She looks tired, the same eye bags on your face are also on hers. Right now, despite all your differences, you are both on the same page. You are both walking the same path, converging in a way you never thought it would have.

"Let yourself breathe, have a day off to laugh with your friends, eat junk food, do whatever. Not archery. Just one day would help." Robin says softly "Remember your worth outside of your sport, because you are so much more than just that."

Your heart is racing for reasons you can't fully understand as you take in her words, a lump in your throat forming. You swallow, looking to the side as you let out a shaky exhale. You need to remind yourself- at the end of the day, it is still Robin.

"Thank you." Is all you manage out.

"You're welcome."

The ticking of the clock is all that's heard as you both stay where you were sat on the ground, staring into the target faces ahead with no desire to move until finally a rustling of a bag decides to alleviate some of the tension between you two.

"Take this."

A bag of sweets is slid across the floor to you, and your heart thuds. The same bag of sweets you found in your locker months ago.

"Huh?"

Robin doesn't look at you as she gets up onto her feet, her lilac hair falling from it's ponytail- blocking you from seeing the light blush on her cheeks.

"Take care of yourself."

You could only watch as she begins to leave, back facing you when you suddenly speak up.

"Robin?"

She stops.

"...Take care of yourself too. Please."

You didn't expect your own voice to come out so shaky, so uncertain but you notice the way she tenses up slightly, the way she takes in a deep breath before saying in a choked voice:

"I will."

"Promise?"

That last word comes out faster than you would've liked, in a softer voice that you only used with her in the past.

"Promise."

All you think about later that evening when you lie in bed with Stelle curled up next to you is how she said that without hesitation, like an answer she had prepared for all her life. She said it with her full chest, and you hope she keeps it. All Robin thinks about later that evening when she lies alone in bed is how you turned to look at her as she was leaving. You looked at her, no malice, nothing. It was a conversation, a normal one. Maybe a reconnection that you two both craved but never knew you needed. This conversation didn't fix anything, it didn't mend the wounds she inflicted onto you but it was her offering a hand out, her waving the white flag. And you had taken that hand. It keeps her going, the thought of your words. It's all she can think about on her drive to the biggest audition she's had in ages. She should have been focusing all her attention on it, she should have been nervous in the waiting room but all she felt was an odd sense of calmness. Your words echoing in her ears, a soft reminder of the next chapter that she could write if she was just brave enough to do so. That gives her a sense of hope, one she hasn't felt since she received the news of her father's firing. Since the news of having to move back. And maybe that sense of hope gave her a bounce in her step that she normally couldn't find during rehearsals, the light in her voice that always comes out a bit more forced when she practices her singing. Maybe it's this hope that at the end of the day, she has something to look forward to even if this audition doesn't go her way that had Jade raising an eyebrow with a satisfied smile as she jots down a few notes on her notepad before circling Robin's name.

She just found her next trainee.

~

You weren't due to come home for another three hours. Stelle is effectively left alone in your house with your mother in the other room and as sweet as Yukong is, she can't help but feel awkward. Does Yukong know what happened? Surely you weren't close enough with your mom to talk about these things. But the way she looks at Stelle, it's an unreadable expression but one that sends too many signs of wanting to talk or wanting to say something that scares her a little. Stelle sighs, closing the comic book she had tried to read but she was too lost in her train of thought. It's been three weeks since her mom kicked her out and each time she thinks about it she feels sick to her stomach. You offered to talk about it whenever she's ready, but she fears she will never be ready to talk about it. It sits between you two, an unspoken topic that doesn't necessarily need to be addressed, but would benefit Stelle to open up for once instead of burying everything in jokes and laughter.

"Stelle?"

She flinches at the sound of the door opening, and Yukong enters with a soft smile.

"I've cut up some fruit for you."

Stelle takes the plate of pears with a small 'thank you', looking down at the white slices of pears. Yukong doesn't move, standing at the doorway like a hesitant mother who wants to say something but cannot find the words.

"I apologise if I am misreading the situation." Yukong says slowly, an underlying awkwardness in her voice that Stelle has never heard before in her years of knowing your mom "But did something happen at home that you can't talk about?"

Truthfully, she doesn't want to talk about it. Especially not with her best friend's mom. But maybe it's the weeks of holding it all in, having it be built up and wanting to explode out.

"Yes." Is all she says as she takes a bite of the crispy pear. Yukong lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement, shifting her bodyweight slightly.

"I was in a similar situation as a kid." Yukong says softly, her eyes unfocused as she stares at a spot on the floor "I won't pry on what happened to you. But for me, well, my family disapproved of my... lover. I was kicked out, forced to stay with a friend. I haven't talked to them since."

Yukong's words had Stelle freeze slightly, processing what exactly it was she just said. Yukong just smiles at Stelle, a heartbroken look in her eyes.

"Stay as long as you need. Let me know what you want to have for Christmas dinner this year."

Before Stelle can get another word out, Yukong had already left. All that remains is the weight of her words, a part of Yukong's life that Stelle had never even considered.