#wanted to get this out of the drafts. feel free to send asks and such o7

[wundrousarts]

Some theories, thoughts, and answers to questions that are in the works that I need to attempt to write out sometime, but probably won’t until I eventually reread Hollowpox on my eternal reread:

What led Squall to try and revolt? Was it a decision by himself, with others, or was there a third party involved? What is true and what isn’t?

What is the fallout and aftermath of Mog’s actions at Courage Square, and what might her future as a budding Wundersmith in Nevermoor look like?

Christmas Eve: is it a Distraction, is there a Ghostly Hour involved, is it related to the Massacre, and how could it relate to modern Nevermoorian religion and Squall’s exile and Eventide activities?

Maud: does she have a knack or some sort of power, how and when does she use it, what is her dynamic with Squall based on, and why is he so scared of her?

Miscellaneous Silverborn Masterpost additions, on a rolling basis as I (or anyone else!) thinks of things.

[tokeposts]

𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚠𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞

pairing: husband!katsuki bakugou x gn!reader

warnings: cursing, light angst (if you squint), hurt/comfort, emotional argument, established relationship

notes: the start of the katsuki fics for his bday aka toke letting the drafts free 💋

516 | your first argument as a married couple is entirely different and yet somehow still completely the same

Katsuki doesn't let either of you go to bed upset. After an argument, you storm back into your shared bedroom at 11 PM, fully expecting him to be asleep, but he’s not. He’s there, sitting against the headboard, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows over the hard lines of his body. His chin rests against his hand, fingers pressed into his check like they’re the only thing keeping him wake. His crimson eyes find yours, tired and unreadable, lingering on you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“Finally ready to talk?” he asks, voice low and rough, as though he hasn’t spoken in hours. As if your name’s been sitting on the edge of his throat all night, waiting for the moment you’d come back.

You swallow hard, shoulders tense. You want to be angry still, want to cling to the pride that made you storm away in the first place. But the way he looks at you, baggy-eyed, distant, but not cruel. It breaks down whatever resentment you had left and for a fleeting moment you think it is unfair.

“I didn’t think you’d still be awake,” you say softly, eyes darting away like you’re ashamed, like part of you wanted him to chase after you when you stormed out of this room hours before.

He exhales through his nose, shifting just slightly. “Of course I am. What kinda man do you think I am?”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. Not because they’re harsh, but because they’re honest. Blunt. Him.

You move slowly, like your body’s still unsure, and he watches you the whole time. Never pushing, never rushing, just waiting. And when you finally cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, you feel the tension in his frame start to ease.

“I hate fighting with you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. Arms reflexively wrapped round your frame.

“I hate fighting with you,” he says immediately, voice thick with something that makes your throat tighten. You feel. the bed shift and his heat radiated behind you. “But I’ll do it if it means we get better. If it means we don’t let this shit sit between us like poison.”

His hands brush your elbow first. A reminder. He rubs at your skin and something inside you aches. Your smaller hands find his without thinking, fingers brushing together. He grips you gently, just enough to let you know he’s still here, still yours, no matter what.

You don’t apologize with words. Not yet. You both will…. eventually. But for now, in the quiet of your shared bedroom, under the soft glow of the lamp and the quiet buzz of forgiveness hanging in the air, you let him pull you close.

He presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips. Crimson eyes hidden.

“No goin’ to bed mad, remember?” he murmurs. “That was the deal.”

And you nod. Because when it comes to love, his love, it’s not about being right.

It’s about coming back.

Always.

[nayeoniiz]

WEBCAM PERV! (1)

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ mutual masturbation, cyberstalking, noncon recording

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

genre ❥ smut

word count ❥ 4.4k

taglist: @rayofsunshineeee

Webcam Perv! (2)

author’s note: sorry it took me a bit longer to release, i ended up rewriting over the whole draft. i was gonna write the full story in one go, but if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that i love making series. anyway i hope yall enjoy! & a reminder that my requests are open (send as an ask or submission pls do not dm me lol). go check out my other stories while you’re at it bc i have much more cooking! not proofread so don’t come for me!

y/n lay blank faced on her bed with her phone in hand. it had been hours since she’d gotten home from her classes, and now she was just scrolling mindlessly on tiktok out of boredom. her room was quiet except for the occasional hum of her heater and the everchanging audios blasting from her phone’s speakers.

she sighed, tossing her phone to the side resorting to staring at the ceiling. as the days were growing colder, y/n couldn’t help but to feel this growing sense of loneliness creeping in, like there was something missing that she couldn’t quite put her finger onㅡexcitement was the closest word she think of. she didn’t have many friends to talk to, or text, or hang out with—just her best friend natty, but the girl was currently unreachable as she had already fallen asleep after their brief phone call.

midterms were always the dryest times for y/n. after spending hours in the library, forcing far too many categories of knowledge down her throat for her own goodㅡ just to end up with barely above average scores, she was too drained to do much of anything else when she got home. but, it was hard to just sleep. she was intransigent when it came to resting after studying because she wanted to give herself the free time she’d lost instead. usually being on her phone, and rotting her brain away with the useless curated content that she handpicked for herself would suffice. but on days like thisㅡ where her studying ended close to (or in this case, after) midnight, it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the dopamine she was longing for.

after a few moments of lying in a frozen state of staring off into nothing, she reached for her laptop, opening it on impulse. omegle. it had been a while since she’d used it, and honestly, it wasn’t the best idea, but she figured it might help pass the time. and maybe it’d even give her some form of human interaction, though her hopes weren’t too high given the website’s reputation. she typed “k-pop” into the category field, hoping it’d narrow down the pool to people around her age who might share at least one interest with her.

the first few chats weren’t anything special. she ran through the typical brief hellos, the awkward pauses, and of course the familiar “stranger has disconnected.” a few times, however, she was met with the sight of creepy old men who took pleasure in flashing, reacting at lightning speed to skip the chats before things could get worse. some people seemed normal at first, friendly even, but as soon as they’d start saying weird thingsㅡor worse, making noises that gave away their intentions, it’d soil her mood once again as she refreshed her tab.

after getting skipped again for the umpteenth time, y/n found herself hovering her mouse over the “new chat” button, debating. she looked at the clock in the corner of her screen, she had already wasted 30 minutes trying to find a normal human being to talk to. she was beginning to wonder if this was really a good idea to begin with. was it even worth possibly getting harassed for another half hour, in the name of being social? she weighed her options: she could either waste another 2 hours on tiktok, or go to bed. neither seemed appetizing for the hunger of connection she craved. with a sigh, she decided to try one more. and if it didn’t work out, it just meant that it was time to call it a night. she clicked to start a new chat.

stranger is typing…

stranger: hii

you: hello

stranger: m23

you: f22

stranger: cam?

you: earn it?

this one didn’t seem too bad so far, but she wasn’t going to make an early judgement. the man seemed to respect her decision as he quickly changed the conversation. they kept things light, alternating on asking each other random questions back and forth about hobbies, favorite foods, movies, shows, and music. the conversation was easy, fun even, and y/n found herself smiling a little despite the earlier frustration. it was like she was finally getting what she was looking for. with the conversation being tame, he took it as a green light to ask again.

stranger: can i see you now?

you: fine lol

y/n hesitated before turning her camera on and adjusted her hair quickly before looking at the screen. the male in her vision had a sharp, almost angelic face, with delicate features that seemed to be personally sculpted by the man above. his hair was dark and tousled, the slight messiness giving him a laid-back, calm vibe with his headset only adding character to his visual as they laid over his ears. his eyes were a captivating deep brown. they were soft and friendly, it made it hard to look away. even through the webcam, it was clear he had this undeniable charm, his steady gaze hinting that he knew the effect he had on others. the two of them stayed still, ogling each other for a bit, the stare down only being interrupted when he abruptly started typing again.

stranger is typing…

stranger: damn ur fine lol

you: thx so are you

stranger: you in korea?

you: yeah

stranger: me too

stranger is typing…

stranger: audio?

you: yk what? yeah

heeseung and y/n both go to turn on their audio. while her room was silent, disregarding the small noise coming from her room’s heater, heeseung had r&b music softly playing in the background. it only added to this boy next door vibe she was getting from him. the two of them were silent for a second before heeseung decided to break the ice by speaking first.

“hello? let me know if you can hear me.” his voice came through clearly, deep and smooth, carrying a natural warmth that drew her in without him even trying. a part of her was convinced he had to secretly be a weirdo. what was someone as attractive as him even doing on this site, yet alone at this hour? she took a breath before answering.

“hi, yeah i can hear you,” she replied, her tone a little uncertain, unsure of how to match his cool energy. she wasn’t exactly the extroverted type of person to begin with, you can only imagine how much harder it was to speak when such a captivating face was waiting for her response in real time.

heeseung only chuckled softly, the sound seamlessly exuding natural confidence. “so… i guess we finally get to talk now.”

y/n smiled at his words, her need for approval rising as she juggled through all the responses she could make to keep him engaged, “yeah, seems like it,” she responded, her voice was steady now as she tried to shake off the nervousness creeping in. 

heeseung chuckled, shifting closer to his keyboard as his fingers danced over the keys. the music in the background shifted, the beat changing just as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. his voice lowered a notch as he spoke, a hint of amusement in his tone. ”i’m, heeseung, by the way.”

“y/n,” she responded.

“i gotta admit,” he said, “i wasn’t sure if you’d actually turn on your mic.”

“why’s that?” she asked, an almost muted giggle escaping her lips as she twirled a strand of her hair, her fingers displaying how nervous she felt. heeseung watched her with a quiet intensity, noticing every little movement she made. the way her fingers fidgeted and how she avoided meeting his gaze through the screen.

“i don’t know,” he said, his tone lazy and nonchalant, but holding a teasing undertoneㅡ a subtle shift she didn’t quite catch onto. “guess i’m just lucky you did.” he didn’t say anything about her fidgeting, though. he didn’t need to. she seemed like the type to change her behavior once it was called out, and he was more captivated by it than he let on. there was something about her shyness, moreso the way she couldn’t quite hide it, that intrigued him. “so, what do you usually do when you’re not chatting with strangers on the internet?”

his question had caught y/n off guard for a brief moment, another nervous laugh slipping past her lips as she tugged on her shirt’s collar, adjusting it to make sure nothing was out of place though she didn’t actually need to. she didn’t know why, but something about talking to him felt different from the others. “uh, not much… if i’m not studying, i just watch tiktoks or call my friend if she’s not tired.” she replied hoping the answer sounded casual enough.

“hm, sounds like you’ve got some time to kill,” heeseung smirked, inching his chair closer to the screen. he opened a second tab, the soft clatter of his typing blending effortlessly with the mellow r&b drifting through the background.

“yeah, guess i do. life’s… kinda mundane, you know?” y/n replied sheepishly. her gaze followed his, noting the slight movement of his hands just out of view, but chucking it up to him searching for another song to play as the music shifted again. he didn’t back away from the screen this time, though. instead, he kept his eyes locked on hers, unwavering.

“i get it,” heeseung replied, his voice lowering slightly, but still keeping its laidback manner, like they were just two people having an ordinary conversation. “i’m the same, but i'm more of a youtube guy, i found out about this site through a video on there.” as he spoke, his finger subtly danced across the keyboard, the screen flickering with the quiet download of her IP address. his eyes stayed on the camera, his expression open and unreadable, like he was genuinely listening to her.

“that’s interesting, this app usually has a bad rep. like, there’s only creeps on here,” y/n said, though her words seemed to be misunderstood as heeseung furrowed his brows.

“are you trying to insinuate that i’m a creep?”

her eyes widened in shock, and she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. a stutter broke through her words. “what?! no! i’m just saying—i’ve run into a lot of them tonight before i landed on you. so i was just… i don’t know. forget i said anything.” she sulked, her face reddening with embarrassment at her failed attempt to relate. heeseung watched in awe, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile, at her mannerisms, finding every one of her reactions so cute. sensing her discomfort, he smoothly shifted the topic.

“i’m kidding, y/n.” he grinned, showcasing his pearly whites. “so… what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to?” he asked, his tone light, but there was an underlying intensity to his gaze. he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity; he was studying her, absorbing every word she said, as if her answers would tell him everything he needed to know.

y/n paused, thinking for a moment before she answered. “probably traveling more. i feel like i’m always stuck in the same routine.”

“yeah, routines can be… limiting. but they’re also comforting, right?” he paused, his eyes flickering to a different part of his screen for just a moment before he continued. “you know, sometimes it’s those little moments, when everything feels a little too safe, that you need to shake things up.” he spoke so casually, like he was giving advice, but it sounded a bit odd to y/n. she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words, though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. regardless, she found herself wanting to stay, wanting to know more. and she was always too paranoid for her own good anyway. it was probably nothing.

“i guess.”

“oh. yeah, but is that the only reason you’re on here?” heeseung’s fingers were still moving on his keyboard, the quiet clicking of the keys going unnoticed now. he wasn’t just talking anymore—he was already pulling the strings, weaving a subtle web around her, all while his words remained smooth and harmless. y/n’s lips pursed in thought, the sudden change in the atmosphere making her feel more curious than she was letting on.

“what do you mean?” she asked, confusion creeping into her tone as she leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him. heeseung’s system, working silently in the background, had breached the security of her wifi by now, scanning through the connected devices, its main goal being to gain access to her phone.

“i mean… it’s almost 4am, saturday night. you’re a cute girl, seem kind of introverted, but you give off this vibe... like you’re looking for some fun.”

whatever dimwitted perception y/n formed of him had shattered. he was no different from any of the other men she’d encountered prior. “oh. i don’t really do… that,” she replied, a slight pout playing on her lips. she moved her mouse to hover over the skip button, but she didn’t click it. something was keeping her here. maybe it was the way he looked at her—too attractive, too confident. she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t move.

heeseung noticed her hesitation, his grin widening. “oh, neither do i,” he said in a humoring manner, brushing her reaction off as if his earlier comment didn’t mean anything. “i just had to test the waters. can you blame me though? it’s not every day you meet an attractive girl on here. you said it yourself, there’s usually only creeps on here, right?”

“yeah,” she laughed, the sound effortlessly drawn out as she got caught in the pull of his charm. any cautions she had before seemed to dissipate as she got lost in his eyes. she debated whether she should just give in—it wasn’t like they’d see each other again, right? but then, the stories about girls who made impulsive choices, and got extorted, crept into her mind. the fear of becoming just another statistic arose.

“what do you have in mind?” she asked, her words slipping out before she could think them through. her people-pleasing tendencies had kicked in, but the smile that spread across his face made her heart race. somehow, it felt good, like she was doing something right. and that made it feel worth it. rewarding, even.

“whatever you’re offering, baby,” heeseung replied smoothly, his voice dipping into an unfamiliar, alluring tone that made her body tingle. as he spoke, his hand moved subtly off-screen, clicking to start recording. the faintest smirk curled on his lips as he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes burning into hers with a suggestiveness that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t before. desired. wanted.

“i don’t know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. a nervous smile played on her lips as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. her eyes darting away from the camera before flicking back to his. “i’ve never done anything like this before.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening as he studied her. there was something about her naivety, the way she danced on the edge of her own boundaries, that made his pulse quicken. he decided then and there that if he wasn’t already obsessed before, he definitely was now. utterly and completely.

“well, i’m honored to be the first,” his voice dripped with seduction, but his eyes glinted with something far more sinister.

her cheeks flushed as she hesitated again, her fingers picking at the fabric of her shirt before she finally blurted, “could you maybe…” she paused, laughing softly at how ridiculous she felt to ask. “show me something, too? just to keep it fair.” her words made heeseung pause for a moment before a low chuckle escaped him, growing into full, unrestrained laughter. he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement, his eyes never leaving her face.

she was truly a character—everything about her was so… adorable. her openness, her immediate trust in a complete stranger, and the impulsivity that seemed to pour out of her without a second thought. it was intoxicating. she was everything he’d been looking for, everything someone like him—a man with desires he dared not say aloud—would dream of finding. and yet, beneath his amusement, there was a darker realization. if she wasn’t careful and kept giving away pieces of herself so easily, someone would take advantage of her. someone crueler, more reckless, more dangerous than him. he couldn’t let that happen. not with anyone else at least. she was his now. and if she was going to be ruined, it would only be by him.

“would you like it better if i go first?” heeseung inquired, his voice smooth as the corners of his lips nearly curled into a restrained smirk. he watched her reaction closely, catching the way her quick, almost desperate nod betrayed her displayed excitement. it was endearing, almost painfully so. it drove him crazy. he pursed his lips, feigning contemplation, before his smile grew wider, softer. “thought so,” he murmured, his tone carrying just enough teasing warmth to make her feel both at ease. she was completely under his spell. 

he reached for his webcam, the movement slow as he decided to savor the moment. tilting it slightly, he aimed it downward, the lens capturing his relaxed posture, legs spread comfortably wide. the soft fabric of his sweatpants clung to him in just the right way, emphasizing his figure without him needing to do much at all. the unthought of confidence in his movements was enough to hold her gaze, her breath catching as the tension in the air thickened. his hands grazed over the fabric covering his length, a small hiss of relief leaving his lips as he did so. she had already gotten him painfully hard without even trying.

lifting his hips, he slides his sweats down. just enough for him to pull his cock out, an unintentional gasp falling from y/n’s lips at the sight of it. he couldn’t hide the rush of pride that surfaced at her reaction. it was a response he’d grown accustomed to from his long list of other victims on the site, but there was something about y/n that struck him differently. her wide-eyed gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words—it was enough to ignite a deeper need within him, a desire to draw her in further, to leave her completely captivated by him.

a quiet curse slipped past his lips as he stroked, his hand barely being able to wrap around its girth. his movements were meticulous, unhurried as he moved to spread his precum over the rest of his length. he leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. his dark eyes carried a silent command, the faintest nod of his head urging her to follow his lead. he didn’t have to say a word—his confidence, his control, it was all laid bare in the way he watched her, waiting to see how far she would go.

it was then that y/n realized she couldn't back out now. not that she wanted toㅡ her curiosity, mingled with the pull he had over her, kept her rooted in place. but it was starting to feel too real, the weight of the moment sinking in as she hesitated, unsure of what he was expecting. the fact that he left it up to her made it even more difficult. her mind raced as she nervously tugged at the bottom of her shirt, praying her choice would be enough to satisfy him.

heeseung's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable but intent, as though he were savoring every second of her hesitation. when she finally moved, lifting her shirt to display her breasts. her cheeks burned as she moved her hands over one, massaging and pinching her nipples. his lips twitched into the faintest smile. to her, his reaction was subtle, leaving her questioning if she'd done enough. 

but to heeseung, it was everything. to him, everything about her was intoxicating, from the nervous way she moved, to the unsure glances she gave him. he would have been satisfied just seeing her collarbone. his heart raced at the thought of how easily she gave in, how willingly vulnerable she was in front of him. it inflated his ego even more, knowing he was the first to witness this side of her.

he forced himself to keep his expression composed, though his excitement was nearly impossible to contain. the speed of his fingers absentmindedly sped up, thinking of how he’d be able to relive it again later tonight. and he’d make sure to replay every moment, over and over, obsessing over the way she unwittingly gave herself to him.“ah~ fuck, y/n,” he whimpered, unable to contain the heat growing over him. his eyes snapped shut, immediately imagining his hand to be hers. his hips bucked, as he began thrusting into his fist chasing the feeling of a body he knew now that he just had to get his hands on. tonight wasn’t going to be enough, he needed more. 

y/n didn’t know where her confidence was coming from when her free hand snaked its way down to the hem of her shorts as she pushed past them straight into her panties. she scooted into a slouch allowing herself easier access as she began rubbing on her clit, the pressure soothing its throbbing ache and sending a sweet, shocking sensation throughout her body. she couldn’t bite back the moan that slipped outㅡ the noise sounding like music to heeseung’s ears. oh how jealous he was of her hands now. being able to touch her because he couldn’t. it wasn’t enough, nowhere near it.

”look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough, making her cheeks flush as she slowly opened her eyes to meet his. his gaze was full of desire, making her feel small in a way that was strangely exhilarating. she found herself wanting nothing more than to impress him. she bit her lip as she quickly moved to lower the camera, aiming it to display more of her chest and downward before returning to her prior position on the chair. it didn’t even matter to him that her shorts kept her beautiful cunt a mystery to himㅡ the whole picture was so fucking sexy. the way she was playing with her nipples, pinching and rolling them, the speed of her circular motions increasing as she chased her orgasm, the way her tongue rested on her bottom lip before she bit it, the way sheㅡ

“heeseung~ oh my god.”

fuck. if he was wasn’t already stroking fast enough, he was moving at godspeed now. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. he rubbed his thumb along his tip’s slit as he kept his pace, the action leaving his hips stuttering. he was so close, and y/n was too. she couldn’t control the volume of her moans, gripping her breast like her life depended on it. “i’m gonna cum, oh my god, oh my god,” the desperation in her voice made him come undone as he bit back a loud, throaty moan. but she kept going, still chasing her climax as her moans got choked out the harder she went on herself.

just as she was about to cum, when she was almost there, her computer suddenly shut down. the screen went black without warning, leaving only an empty, lifeless void. heeseung watched as her screen flickered and then turned dark, his heart sinking in frustration. “fuck!” he swore, shooting forward in his chair, eyes fixed on the blank screen. he slammed a fist on the desk in irritation before quickly ending the recording. his hands moved frantically over the keyboard, reopening his hacking program, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong.

y/n didn’t even notice, her orgasm crashed over her as she felt like every nerve, and cell in her body had come undone. she kept her eyes closed as she let out a breathless sigh, regaining her composure. after a few seconds, y/n opened her eyes to see that her laptop was blank. she frantically clicked on buttons trying to turn it on, clicking the power button which only displayed a red drained battery as if to mock her further. of all times it could have decided to die, why now? the frustration and panic settled in as she realized she may never get to see him again. she didn’t have any ways to contact him, but would he even want to hear from her again? doubt clouded her mind. now there was no way of knowing. she wanted to keep talking to him, but the odds seemed slim. with a heavy sigh, she jumped up, scrambling to plug her laptop into the charger.

meanwhile, heeseung was still navigating through her information. he had closed out of omegle and now his focus was entirely on troubleshooting. he noticed her computer no longer showed up on the network, the last activity was two minutes ago. “that piece of shit must’ve died,” he grumbled under his breath. he figured now would be the time to access her phone’s camera as it would be useless trying to find her again on the website. switching servers on the program, he downloaded the data to his phone and went to lay down. he watched through the front camera on her phone, but it remained in the same spot unmoving. he was getting frustrated.

y/n had wasted almost 45 minutes skipping through hundreds of people in search of his face on omegle. but to no avail, his face never came up again. it was 6am, and she had plans with natty to go through with in the evening. as much as she didn’t want to right now, she had to sleep. oth of them, in their own way, ended up resigned to their separate fates. y/n reluctantly accepted her defeat, bitterly acknowledging that the night had slipped away. but at least for heeseung, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing he would have another chance to see her again. this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. he’d make sure of that.

Webcam Perv! (2)

[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.

[sunday-bug]

Can you write more about congressman Bucky?? I’m so feral for that lol

Same 🥵 yes. I’m gonna go for it here and make this 18+ filth. Hope that’s cool. And let's make it from Bucky's POV because I'm a slut 😛

MDNI 18+ below

She'd been driving me up a wall all goddamned night. That dress. Those heels with her cute pink toenails peeking out. The way she brushed her hair over her shoulder and smiled at me with that gorgeous mouth.

"Bucky?"

"Huh?" I ask, not knowing what the hell she just asked me.

She giggles, "I asked if you wanted to get a drink."

We'd just finished going over a policy proposal at dinner, and I was wired. I could barely focus on anything except the way her hands wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, how she leaned over the table a bit to go over certain parts of the draft, and the way she'd offered me a bite of her meal from her fork.

"No," I say sternly. "Bars are crowded this time of night, anyway."

She nods, a small frown on her face, "Okay, then. I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Wait, no. Come home with me," I rasp, almost desperately.

She smiles at me shyly and whispers, "Lead the way."

We walk to my place, not far at all, but in this moment of anticipation it felt like half a world away. She brushes her hand against my flesh one, and I grab it, intertwining our fingers. Her hands are soft and warm. We walk up the few steps to my place and I fumble a bit with my keys before opening the door, and motioning her inside.

"Finally," I say as I swing the door shut behind me. She turns to me and takes off my jacket. That's all it takes before I feel the line I've been carefully toeing with her snap. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me, kissing my lips and neck, unbuttoning my dress shirt and loosening my tie.

I walk us slowly up the stairs, careful with her in my arms. My hands travel from her ass to her waist and I groan. "You've been driving me crazy all damn night. Hell, since you walked into my office on the first day."

I lie her down on my bed and pull off her heels slowly, my fingers tracing up her calves. She sits up, unzipping her dress and yanking it down to reveal a black lace bra and...

"Fuck, no underwear?" I swallow, taking in her naked body in my bed. It feels like ever liter of blood in my body rushes to my cock.

She smiles shyly again, a rosy blush tinging her cheeks. I take off my shirt and tie, tossing them on the floor. She sits up on her knees in the bed and reaches for my belt buckle, unclasping it along with my pants, pulling them down.

"Can I?" She asks quietly, perfect hands on the waistband of my boxers.

"Please," I beg, running a hand through her hair.

She pulls my boxers down and my erection springs free.

"Oh," she whispers, looking up at me through her lashes.

"Oh?" I ask hungrily. "I think you can take it."

She lets out a little moan as I lay her back on the bed, my hand reaching for her waist, traveling further down to please her. So wet already.

"I need you," she whispers into my neck as she plays with my hair, giving me goosebumps. "Please."

That little please sends me over the edge, and I push her knees apart with my own, positioning myself between her legs. She bucks her hips into mine and I smile. "Eager, baby?"

"Mhmm," she whines, running her fingers down my arms.

I push the tip inside and watch her eyes light up, "Good?"

She nods, and I keep going, "Fuck... You feel so good."

Her breathing gets deeper as I push into her, motivating me. She's gripping at the back of my neck, tugging on the back of my hair, letting loose little moans.

“God damn, baby, move with me,” I rasp out, grabbing her hip and pumping in and out.

She reciprocates and I feel like I could cum right then and there.

"Bucky... God," she whines. "Fuck me." She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. I kiss and bite her neck, never stopping my pace, loving the way she feels wrapped around me.

She starts to tighten around my cock and I know she's close. I pick up one of her legs and put it on my shoulder, pressing even deeper into her and groaning.

"I'm... I'm gonna," she starts to say, her eyes opening to look into mine.

"I know, baby, I can feel it. Let go on me." As soon as I give her permission I feel her body shudder and she cries out again, fingernails leaving marks on my back.

"Just like that. Good girl," I praise her, putting her leg back down and picking up my pace, feeling my own release creeping up on me.

"I'm close, love," I warn her, feeling my legs start to tighten.

"Cum in me," she whispers and I groan again.

"Yeah? You want me to?" I clarify, knowing I'm almost there.

She nods and bites her lip seductively, and that's all it takes.

I grab her hips and press into her until I can't any more, feeling my own release, "Jesus Christ."

I pull out slowly and lay down next to her, catching my breath, and looking over at her.

"Stay there, doll, I'll get you cleaned up."

-the end-

this was just filth, but I kinda needed it haha

[mrsshabana]

𝐄𝐱-𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaroxfemale!reader, 18+ MDNI, modern au, Gyutaro is your ex, smut, vaginal sex ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. I've had this idea in my drafts for a super long time so I decided to go ahead and finish it! I hope you all enjoy it and thanks for reading ♡

Gyutaro missed you so goddamn much. The first and only girl he ever fell in love with.

At first, he was angry, but now he's just depressed. Everything reminds him of you. And he feels so incredibly lonely.

You broke up with Gyutaro over a month ago.

Your relationship lasted about 4 months until you just couldn't take it anymore. He was a decent enough boyfriend at first but as time passed it became more and more toxic.

He was controlling and extremely jealous. Getting angry anytime you'd try to hang out with your friends. Especially other men. He never trusted you even though you'd never dare cheat on him, and you never gave him a reason to believe you would.

He'd go through your phone without your permission and get into fights with you anytime you went out with your friends. You loved Gyutaro but it was exhausting dealing with this on a regular basis.

His insecurities got to be too much and he never stopped trying to control you no matter how many times you tried talking to him about it. So you eventually broke it off. Breaking Gyutaro's heart in the process.

Now that he had some time to process the breakup, he realizes what an asshole he's been. His biggest regret is taking you for granted.

You were so good to him, so sweet too. No girl has ever looked at him the way you did. Like he wasn't some ugly freak, or someone to be pitied. No, you made him feel normal. More than normal actually. He genuinely felt loved and attractive even.

Not to mention the sex was good too. God, it was phenomenal. Gyutaro told you he'd delete the videos and photos he had, but he lied. He still watches them on a daily basis. He can't bring himself to get rid of them. He's still so madly in love with you.

The thought of you lying beneath anyone else but him makes him furious. No other man should be able to touch you like he did. Maybe it's selfish, but you're his girl. You always will be in his mind. And he just hopes that you'll give him a second chance because living without you by his side is unbearable.

"Hey... r u free tomorrow?" he nervously texts you for the first time since you've broken up.

You sigh and roll your eyes when he texts you. A part of you misses Gyutaro, but you don't miss how controlling he was. However, you are willing to hear him out so you respond a few minutes later. "Yeah, why?"

"I was thinking maybe we could hang out or something? If u want to."

"Ok, that's fine."

"Cool! There's this new place I wanted to try, I'll send u the address. Meet me around 6."

And just like that Gyutaro successfully asked you out on a date! Well, in his mind it's a date to win you back. But in your mind, it's just a meetup to get closure about your relationship.

When you meet up with Gyutaro at the restaurant, you're suddenly overcome with emotions that you didn't expect yourself to feel. A longing for the man you once loved. You thought you were over him but maybe you were wrong.

"Hey Y/N!" He smiles, masking his inner sadness as he stands and gives you a hug.

A surprised sound leaves your lips when he embraces you. Feeling his arms wrapped around you again feels so familiar. So comforting that you can't help but long for it.

But you know you must resist. Remembering all of the turmoil and emotional pain he's put you through, you know you can't go back to that.

So, after a few seconds you pull away from the hug and give him a cordial smile, "It's good to see you again. How have you been?" You ask as Gyutaro pulls your seat out. How strange... he never did that when you were dating.

"I've been alright," he laughs nervously, obviously lying, "How about you? You look great."

"Thanks," you chuckle, "I've been good. Just focusing on work mostly..."

There's an awkward silence after the chit-chat ends and the waiter takes your orders. Neither of you know what to say. Gyutaro is sweating buckets right now, going through hundreds of scenarios in his head. Wracking his brain for the best things to say so he can win you back. But he can't decide so he just blurts it out.

"Listen Y/N, I want you back," he states with a shaky voice. And as you open your mouth to sternly decline, he quickly cuts you off before you can do so, "I know I was a dick. And I'm so sorry, for everything. I didn't treat you right at all, I realize that now... and I understand if it's too late. I know I'm an idiot for not treating you right the first time. But now that I've been living without you my life feels so empty. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I fucked it up! I fucked up real bad," he tears up, "Every day just feels so fucking cold without you. There's no one else to blame but myself, I know that... but I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't at least try to get you back."

He looks at you with pleading eyes, full of desperation. Like this is his one and only chance at happiness. The regret he feels was evident in how his voice quivered and his eyes filled with tears. There's no doubt in your mind that his words are genuine. But do you really believe he'll keep his word and change? Do you want to take that chance when you've already experienced a toxic relationship with him once?

"Gyutaro..." you say as you look down at the table, avoiding looking into his eyes because the longer you stare into them the closer you come to tears, "I-I don't know what to say."

This is a lot of pressure he's putting on you. But honestly, you should have expected it. You feel stupid for not thinking of this as a possibility when he texted you.

Gyutaro takes a deep breath, "It's alright. Sorry I did all that... you probably think it was pretty pathetic. I didn't mean to make things weird... we can just forget I said anything," he looks defeated as he slumps back in his chair.

"No, it wasn't pathetic at all. I actually really appreciate what you said," you say as you reach out and take his hand, "It means a lot to me that you owned up to your mistakes and apologized. I know it's not easy to do."

His eyes widen as he feels your soft touch, a glimmer of hope in his eyes as you continue to speak.

"I'd love to have you as my boyfriend again, Gyutaro."

"R-Really?!" his face lights up, full of joy just like the first time you agreed to be his girlfriend.

Standing from his seat, he rushes to your side and hugs you tightly before you even get the chance to get out of your chair. Almost knocking you over in the process. He's just so damn excited, he can't help himself.

"I promise I won't make you regret this, Y/N!"

The rest of the evening goes well enough, that after dinner you find yourself in Gyutaro's apartment. Being pounded from behind as he holds you in a spooning position on his bed.

Throughout the whole date at the restaurant, the sexual tension between the two of you was palpable. He's obviously missed fucking you, but you missed it too. You hadn't had sex at all since you had broken up, though you thought about it often. Images of Gyutaro would flash through your head every time you'd touch yourself.

You'd curse yourself for thinking of him, getting annoyed that the memories of you two being intimate wouldn't stop. But you couldn't help but think of him. No one has ever made you feel the way Gyutaro did.

He may have been an asshole at times, but he was amazing in the bedroom. He craved you day and night, and would worship you like a queen. It felt good being so desired by the man you were in love with. Not to mention the toe-curling, bed-wetting orgasms he'd give you too.

Now you lay here in his bed, practically screaming his name as he plunges into you. Fucking you just how he's learned you like it.

"Fuck, that's it baby," he groans as he pushes you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up and holding them tightly as he thrusts into you again, "God, you fit like a glove. So perfect for me... it must be meant to be, huh? Don't worry babe, I won't let this pussy go unfilled ever again."

He whispers into your ear as he feels you tighten around him.

As you feel your climax approaching, you realize no one could ever make you feel like Gyutaro makes you feel. With every touch he graces upon your body, you're given another reason why you were meant to be his.

[ilysungho]

— camgirl!reader x members 📸

synopsis: in which you are a camgirl the members come across, accidentally or not, and get obsessed with a/n: hello guys!! i've had this in my drafts for so long, i'm so happy to finally release this <3 i hope you enjoy and let me know what you guys think ^-^ contains: camgirl!reader, streamer!reader, members are all perverts…, masturbation, voyeurism too technically, more specific tags on each members’ parts, lowercase intended taglist: @antoncore @ericlvr @mari3s @dobbiesvvorld @zynz0 @hanfourz @taylorluvation @txtistheloml @jmclouds @brownetry @alwaysyeppi @yomsterz

sungho

contains: sungho’s first time watching a camgirl, use of toys (dildo), streamer (not faceless)

he’d be in the middle of hanging out with his friends when someone (taesan probably) introduces him to this thing called streaming

taesan probably meant game streaming since he plays fifa really well, but when sungho searches it up, he gets flashed by your boobs instead

his horniness gets to him though when he clicks on the thumbnail and sees you bent over, arching your back so well that he wishes for something he never has before

sungho’s nothing less than rock hard as he watches how you move against the dildo stuck on the mirror behind you. his breaths become labored as he registers the noises coming out of your mouth, each one leading him to feel like he’s closer to the edge. his hands subconsciously go towards his pants, pulling it down enough to free himself from the pressure of his boxers. the contrast between the color of him and the clear toy you used left his mind speeding through several scenarios.

despite his extroverted nature, he’d become rather quiet. sungho never thought he’d be in such a position, practically leaking with just the help of his eyes. and so, he watches. your grunts and groans, saying how good it all feels, has him going as well. it’s the first time he’s ever felt this way, fired up to the point of being put out without having to actually do a single thing. you were doing everything perfectly in his eyes, and possibly became the only one to make him get like this.

he can’t help but imagine how you would feel surrounding him, having him hump the air as you kept moving on the screen, slowing down to once again speed up multiple times. your fucked out face further turned sungho on as he finally touched himself, the slick coating him and being spread up and down in a pace matching yours. the speed you set, that he followed, had you both cumming soon after, the boy staring at his hands as he thought about how this moment changed a lot of things for the future of him. he probably won’t be able to cum on his own ever again…

riwoo

contains: nudes being sent throughdms, implied inexperienced!riwoo, streamer

would’ve been searching for good porn to watch while he masturbates but instead came across streamers and was fascinated by the idea

you were his first streamer he tuned into and hasn’t left since the first day

would be wanting to start his own streaming from watching you, eventually messaging you about it

riwoo's totally flattered by all the praise you give him when he sends a dick pic to have you "inspect" how well he would do. it was a spur of the moment decision to text you about help and tips, anything of that sort, but it was the last thing he expected when you asked him to send a picture.

y/n: you have such a good size, i'm sure you'll do well riwoo: are you sure? idk how to do anything much really y/n: mm why don't you send me a video then pretty boy

he doesn't know what came across his mind when he sent you the first text, and certainly didn't think about what it would lead to. as he blushed at the nickname, he opened and held his phone camera, shakily recording a video of himself jacking off. his groans and breaths made it into the video as well, rather nervous as he sends you the video he just took.

when you receive the video, you're shocked by how pretty he sounds before anything else, patting yourself on the back in your head for choosing an appropriate nickname. his voice makes the familiar swirl in your stomach start up as you continue watching the video. licking your lips and imagining the hand as yours, you quickly get an idea and get ready to stream. you had to show him how he should do it after all.

y/n: get on stream love. just follow what i do and send another vid <3

jaehyun

contains: jaehyun implied to not be big but is thick, handjob (mj), use of toys (dildo), sort of implied edging (mj), squirting (reader)

he’s been pretty avidly searching for good porn, so he can’t help but touch his boner when he opens your stream to see you spread your legs, and now it’s a regular occurrence to tune in when you stream, touching himself alongside you

he wonders what your face looks like to imagine what it’d be like to give you his cock instead of the toys you use

when you take dildo size requests, he would be first to message you about his

“fuckkk…” jaehyun softly whispers as he watched you while having his hand wrapped around his own dick. he timed his movements to match your own as you pushed the custom dildo in and out of you rather quickly. despite feeling himself get close, he held onto his release since he made a promise to himself to not cum until you do.

your moans came out naturally as the toy kept being used, whining about how thick ‘he’ is. the boy could do nothing but stare at his screen with half lidded eyes, hands covered in precum as he jerks off to you. it’s the perfect size for your perfect pussy, he thought, smiling to himself about how he’s glad to watch you do as he wrote in the note to you: ‘i know it’s not big, but you know how to have fun right?’

you kept going as the knot in your stomach was on the verge of exploding. “fuck fuck fuck i’m cumming i’m cumm-” you take the toy out of your pussy as you squirted on camera, your cunt facing directly at the camera. jaehyun’s jaw dropped as his own milky cream shot up and landed on his desk as he heard you speak again, “i might’ve had too much fun… did you like that?”

taesan

contains: implied curvy reader, more so fluff than anything, taesan is a sweetheart </3 and also a spoiler

at first, he would never watch anything to help himself get off but then while scrolling through his nsfw acc he rarely goes on, he comes across videos of you

he gets obsessed with how you move and the curves of your body, imagining what it’d be like to have his hands all over you

later on discovers that you have a streaming channel and tunes in while you were live, and he often lets you know how much you help him feel better by sending you generous donations

when you open up a P.O. box, taesan’s rather stressed as he wonders what he can get for you. despite being a regular gifter, it’s the first time he’s thought about sending a physical present to you. maybe some toys you were asking for on live? or maybe just pretty lingerie he selfishly wants to see on you? he thinks hard about what he should get you, when suddenly he thinks of the perfect gift.

after a couple days, taesan got a box ready with what he thought of and a note, going out to have it shipped to you as soon as possible. and a couple days later on stream, as you open mail from your viewers, you’re surprised to see a box with ribbons tying it together. before you get to the actual items though, the note catches your eye.

take care of yourself. i'm sure you're spent after streaming every time. there's just a couple things in here i think you'll like. - rockitty

you're touched and look forward to using the bath soaps and calming fragrances, giving a special shoutout to your ever so sweet viewer, despite his rather silly name. taesan smiles to himself from his own room as he hears your voice get softer, glad to know that his gift did what it was supposed to.

leehan

contains: use of toys (tentacle dildo), leehan is implied dom?? despite just being a viewer lol, leehan gets called sir by you

definitely into kinky blogs, so he is extremely amused to find someone like you who experiments with anything possible

he’s always in your chat, rather demandingly asking you to use certain toys

gifts you money for toys until he buys the ones he wants to see you use himself

leehan sat back on his chair with his computer screen lit up, the bright lights of your room lighting up his own. your voice as you talk is tinged with a hint of nervousness as you pull out the toy to be used for this stream, reading out the note that came with it. “‘use it well, as you always do sweetheart. i know you can take it all.’ signed by mr. kim. well, i’ll try my best, sir.”

he smiled with satisfaction, hearing you address him as so. it gave him power despite being so far apart, never having met. if he could do one thing though, it would be to use the toys on you himself. shaking his head to dissolve said thoughts, he crossed his arms as he watched you pull out the tentacle like dildo from the package. once again, his lips turned up as you thanked him, prepping it and yourself in the mean time.

as the stream went on, so did the toy in you. the various grooves and dips present in the design of it were hugging your walls as you sunk further into it, the size way bigger than anything you had ever used before. leehan sat amused as you did so, refusing to touch himself so that he could solely focus on your pleasure. your body moved with grace in his eyes, still moving but not yet bottomed out on it. you made sounds like never before, soft chuckles coming out of the viewer as he mentally noted how great his choice was. he certainly had to send you more stuff like this in the future to learn more about what you sound and look like to the max.

thank you for reading! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms! join the taglist through here! have a good day my loves <3

divider credits (in order): mdni 18+ content by @mikeykuns, web system by @kgymz, pearl line by @uzmacchiato

[revelboo]

Hey! No request, I just wanted to ask: Do you plan the length of any of your stories or do you just plan to write until you're out of ideas

Love your writings by the way :)

Pretty much just figuring out the stories as I go. These were meant to be rough drafts to figure out the plots and rewrite later, but things got a bit out of hand. I usually have a vague idea of the story’s direction that I’m working toward, but I don’t make outlines for any of these since they were just for fun

No Strings Pt 5

Rainmakers x Reader

• Hair floating and sticking to Blue, you squirm in his grip when his servos tighten around you. Hearing him growling alien gibberish at his two brothers and you frantically push at his servos to get loose. “Let go!” Not wanting to be in his hand if they’re about to start fighting. And then the tension bleeds out of Green’s expression as he heads toward you and Blue, hands outstretched. The grip on you immediately easing as Blue and Green speak to each other. And Goldie still looks furious when you glance at him, his optics flicking between his brothers then at you.

• Wings drooping as Acid Storm holds out his hands, Ion Storm glances at Nova Storm uncertainly. Because he knows how far Nova will go to protect all of them, to stay free. And they haven’t had you very long. In Nova’s optics you might be expendable. His brother would feel bad about destroying you to protect them all, but he’d do it. Grip tightening on you again to send you chirping in alarm, tiny hands pushing at his servos, he backs up a step. “A frag toy?” He asks, frowning at Acid. You’re so tiny and helpless.

• Grimacing at Ion’s hurt tone, Acid Storm risks a glance at Nova. Registering their leader’s tension. That ultimately, what they want won’t really matter. Nova will decide for them like he always does, doing what’s best. Their voices lost in Nova’s drive to keep them safe and it chafes at him like it always has, but he’s always went along with Nova’s will. Never argued. But staring at you squirming in Ion’s hands, he can’t just go along with Nova’s will this time. “I wasn’t going to use Rain for that after seeing them,” he mutters, embarrassed. “And I’m not letting you destroy them.”

• Staring at you chirping and looking up at Acid Storm, Nova Storm vents softly and approaches. Frowning when Ion Storm backs up a step, cradling you closer to his chassis and Acid shifts slightly as if to intervene. Protecting you. From him. “I’m not going to harm Rain,” he growls tiredly, watching you hang on to Ion’s servos, little head turning to try and track all three of them, obviously picking up on the tension. But what is he supposed to do about you? Hurts that his brothers assume the worse. Even if it had occurred to him that you’re so tiny. So easy to just get rid of to hide the evidence of wrong doing.

• Uneasy, you try to keep an eye on all three of them as they growl at each other in their alien nonsense. Whatever the argument was about, it seems to be over. But with the way Goldie is staring at you, there’s a sense that you’re the cause. Fighting over you? Maybe Goldie isn’t sold on keeping you and wants to take you back to the Sleaze-bot? Shuddering at the memory of the kennels, you stare up at him, pleading with your eyes to not go back there. You’d seen Sleaze-bot dosing other people, the ones who screamed and refused to eat, with stuff in little vials before handing them over to be carried into the back by other giants. Don’t know what happened to them back there while those awful videos kept looping on the screens. Don’t want to find out.

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[project-sekai-facts]

Prskfacts 2nd anniversary!

Today (March 13th) is the second anniversary of when I started posting trivia! Thank you so much for the support over the last two years, it means a lot and I'm glad people continue to enjoy the blog!

As of today there will be some changes to how this blog is run. Posts will continue to be daily, but most days will be reblogs of old facts instead of new ones (new ones will still be posted sometimes). It has been incredibly hard for me to keep posting daily over the last year and a half and I feel like the quality of trivia has been declining recently as I've been running out of things to post. I don't want that to continue, so I'll be focusing on quality over quantity from now on. Plus, it's been a long time and a lot of people weren't here for the older posts, so they'll be fun to revisit.

I will still be answering asks, but don't expect me to be as regular with this. It will probably continue at the rate it has for the past few months. This is just to give me time to focus on uni and personal life over this blog, which was getting to the point of being like a job for me. I will also be emptying my inbox today because it's got like 800 unanswered asks in it and I need it to be more manageable. Sorry to anyone whose questions I didn't answer, but feel free to send them again (submissions have been put on the queue).

Sorry this is a bit of a downer anniversary post. To reiterate, I'm not fully moving away from prsk or this blog, just reducing my activity. I hope you continue to enjoy prskfacts for the next year!

So in January 2024 I explained what 4kids was to an anon and said this:

and someone said this in the tags:

i decided explaining shadow the hedgehog lore in depth was the funniest way to semi-retire from this blog that wasn't posting "sayonara you weeaboo shits" or posting my shitpost drafts and going radio silent afterwards. so thank you to the person who said that you gave this blog a slightly less unceremonious death. also if ur a new sth fan who got in bc of the movie this might be useful idk i mainly just wanted an excuse to talk about shadow the hedgehog

So 50+ years before the events of peak fiction Sonic Adventure 2, we have Gerald and Maria Robotnik, Eggman's grandfather and cousin respectively. Gerald was a revolutionary scientist/roboticist (and archaeologist, this will be relevant later) and one of the greatest minds of his time, making huge scientific developments with the goal of bringing hope and happiness to humanity. One of his greatest inventions was a space station for scientific research, the Space Colony ARK, which served as his main lab from then on. The construction and operations of the ARK were partially funded by the United Federation (in-universe USA), but primarily funded by GUN (Guardian Units of Nations, the in-universe US military).

So SA2 is an extremely anti-military game. That's going to become apparent from here on out. So, GUN wants weapons in exchange for funding, and they're starting to get annoying about it. Obviously this is not what Gerald wants, so he asks the President of the UF if he can intervene, since the govt is the other source of funding. So the president says he'll do that, but he also sucks and decides to ask Gerald to invent immortality. Gerald hates the idea of this just as much, and shoots it down immediately, not to mention it being an impossible task.

However, back on Earth, Maria gets sick, and is diagnosed with NIDS (neuro-immuno deficiency syndrome (EN) or native immunodeficieny syndrome (JP), either way it's clearly based on AIDS), a terminal illness. Gerald manages to get Maria brought up to the ARK when treatments on Earth are failing so the team up there can do assessments and research treatments. The low gravity on the ARK also helps to keep the illness' effects at a low, for the most part. Maria's family back at Earth isn't exactly happy about all this though (the Robotnik family drama isn't actually too important here I just wanted to talk about it).

So the president keeps pushing for the immortality thing, and Gerald figures he can use this to find a cure for Maria, so decides to go forward with Project: Shadow, named as such because "the concept [of immortality] is as intangible as a shadow". GUN still wants weapons as well, which is where the archaeology thing starts coming into play. So to tie SA2 into its predecessor, there's these robots that look like the god Chaos from SA1. Gerald had researched Chaos in the past, and builds robots based on it to give to GUN.

Okay now we're finally getting closer to actual Shadow stuff. The scientists are using a Chaos Emerald in their research into immortality, and develop Chaos Drives using the Chaos Energy from the emerald. Gerald also supplies GUN with these drives so they can use them as a power source to try and appease them (they still use them 50 years later to power their mechs, GUN robots drop them when destroyed in SA2). The staff test out these drives on a salamander when they feel they're developed enough to be used on living tissue. Some time later, the salamander being used in testing has such rapid cellular growth that it can't survive on its own, and it becomes violent and uncontrollable, prompting Gerald to build it a life support pack and seal it away in the ARK's basement (functionally). This is the Biolizard, the prototype Ultimate Life Form and the final regular boss of SA2 (also one of two characters with a confirmed birthday, that being January 27th).

More Robotnik family drama stuff just bc I feel like mentioning it, you can skip this paragraph. So Maria's been up on the ARK for a while now, enough years that some scientists on the ARK think she was born there, and Gerald isn't making any progress with creating a cure. Some of the scientists are even starting to doubt that Maria is even ill, since her symptoms are invisible most of the time. Also, the rest of the Robotnik family is losing faith in Gerald and it's getting to a point where they want either a cure or for her to be sent home to be with her family. Gerald cannot yet provide a cure, but he also does not want to send Maria home because she will die. See now Gerald has a pretty big ego. He constantly talks about how much of a genius is and has boundless confidence in himself, which only now is being put to the test. He keeps biting off more than he can chew, and it's starting to cost his family.

Here we fucking go. Exactly 50 years prior to the game Shadow the Hegdehog, the Black Comet passes by Earth. This comet it the home of an alien race called the Black Arms, led by this demonic looking alien guy called Black Doom. Gerald makes contact with the comet, and strikes a deal with Doom, who was interested in Gerald's work with the Chaos Emeralds. Black Doom lends his DNA to be used with Project Shadow, and it reacts well with the Chaos energy. See now Doom has this plan to invade Earth next time his comet comes by, and he wants the thing Gerald is making to be able to do that for him essentially. An Ultimate Life Form is pretty appealing when you want to conquer the Earth.

Also fun thing that originates from a 4koma but was brought up for the first time in English in Shadow Generations: Maria is the one who named Shadow. He originally called the project "Project Shadow" out of mockery as mentioned earlier, and also thought the name sounded too dark for the project he was using to help develop a cure to Maria's illness. However Maria said that he should name the hedgehog he created "Shadow", because a shadow shows the way to the light. Maria also designed Shadow's shoes and inhibitor rings to try and reduce the strain his body will be under from the alien DNA and Chaos energy (Gerald's Journal specifically refers to them as mobility and focus aids). Fun fact 3 if you hack the camera during the lab cutscene in Shadow 05 there's multiple failed Shadow prototypes in the room.

So why is Shadow a hedgehog? It's not ever been confirmed, but it is heavily implied that Shadow was based on the Hidden Palace mural from Sonic 3 & Knuckles. This is an ancient prophetic mural that depicts a blue creature glowing gold fighting a robot that has the Master Emerald. It's depicting the true final boss of the game. We know Gerald visited Angel Island and, while it's never mentioned, it's likely that he saw this mural and made Shadow in the blue/gold figure's likeness (which is why Shadow looks like the Adventure-era Super Sonic design specifically).

We're gonna have to go back to the archaeology stuff for a bit. Years before Project Shadow one of Gerald's sons (presumably Maria's dad, since it's stated that the other son is a roboticist and it makes sense for him to be Eggman's dad) discovers this robot built by an ancient civilization while doing some archaeology shit. Gerald finds it in a warehouse some time later while on the ARK. After researching into it more he discovers that this robot is a weapon capable of mimicking the combat and abilities of other people and weapons as well as being reactive to the chaos emeralds. Presumably Gerald puts the robot back into storage because his Journal (the shadow gens one) doesn't mention him again for ages.

So fast forward to Shadow being in-progress. Gerald is researching the robot again and discovers that it is called a Gizoid (he is later given the name Emerl in Sonic Battle). Emerl can establish a "Link" to a person, becoming completely loyal to them, provided they have some sort of power (Gerald shows Emerl a gun). As mentioned, Emerl is a weapon programmed to be very destructive, but currently Gerald has him under his control.

Although, GUN gets demanding again due to still not having results for the immortal super soldiers they wanted. So Gerald hands over Emerl, knowing full well the risk of GUN just giving him something more powerful than the gun Gerald had and developing a Link with them instead. GUN doesn't really give a shit about Emerl though and asks for something else. Gerald uses this as an opportunity to give them a massive, planet-destroying, Death Star-esque laser cannon, called the Eclipse Cannon. Obviously, GUN can never use it, but it's a big powerful weapon and they're the US military so they're happy with it. Its true function is actually for Shadow to use it to blow up the Black Comet when it comes back past Earth in 50 years, because of that whole deal about Shadow being used by Black Doom to conquer Earth. (Gerald does apologise in his journal for kind of actively ruining Shadow's life before he's even been born, but y'know he's kinda on a streak of making bad decisions at this point).

Shadow is finally awakened and quickly becomes incredibly close with Maria, developing a sibling relationship. She tells him about her love for Earth and he takes care of her and looks out for her when she's struggling. Dialogue in Shadow 05 and Shadow Generations suggests that aside from testing and combat training, Shadow was treated like a fairly normal kid. Maria mentions running around the ARK and playing with him, as well as going to school with him (fun fact: Maria says in Shadow Gens that he never handed in any of his homework).

(To get Shadow age discourse out the way: he's physically 15. This is stated in his character bio in the leaked Sonic 06 script, which admittedly is not entirely accurate, but there's also other information to suggest this, such as him having the same height and weight as Sonic (15) and Silver (14) while Knuckles and Espio (both 16) are taller and heavier. And yeah there's some sources that put him as ageless and that script is the only thing to ever give him an actual age and all the character ages were removed from the official bios anyway due to a timeskip between Forces and Frontiers but you get the idea he's physically the same age as Sonic. Also no he did not age while frozen. Go win internet arguments or something)

Gerald also comes to think of Shadow like a son, which is funny because at this point in the Journal he stops referring to Maria's dad as his son. Likely because he and his wife had another child, which reads like they've lost hope in Maria being saved and are starting over. I mean yeah that's very clearly what's going on.

Unfortunately shit starts to go downhill from here. Emerl absorbs enough weapons to make him go out of control and he goes on a destructive rampage across the ARK. He's shut down and Gerald reprograms him with a 'soul' to prevent this from happening again, and a self-destruct function just in case it does. However, the rampage causes those Artifical Chaos robots I mentioned earlier to go out of control as well. Those are taken down as well but an SOS has been sent out to Earth by this point (there were also other general safety concerns bc of the evil demon aliens and. the military blaming other people for things they asked for)

So GUN and the government kinda go "fuck we need to pretend like this isn't out fault" so GUN goes up to space and shuts down the colony. By raiding it and killing almost everyone on board, covering it up by saying there was an accident. Only three ARK residents are known to have survived: Gerald, Shadow, and a kid called Abe (who is the GUN commander in present day). Considering that they spared the only other kid on the ARK, Maria was probably shot because she was with Shadow and was helping him into an escape pod.

Shadow is found and put in cryo and Gerald is arrested by GUN and made to finish his research under supervision. Gerald learns Maria died and goes insane with grief. He becomes immensely hateful towards humanity as a whole and secretly reprograms Shadow's memories to make him think that Maria's final wish was for him to avenge her (by literally destroying the Earth) instead of what it really was, which was to protect the people of Earth. Gerald is then executed by firing squad.

(Additional Robotnik family lore: Takashi Iizuka confirmed not too long ago that Eggman was born after Maria died. Eggman also mentions that he didn't know Maria in one of his unlockable memos in Frontiers, but reveals that her death was felt throughout his childhood. Apparently the attention was never really on him due to everyone always focusing on how great Maria was. Knowing Eggman this may be a slight exaggeration but yeah there's speculation that the Robotnik Family Drama will be relevant at some point since they keep bringing it up in recent materials)

Fast forward 50ish years to SA2. Eggman finds his grandfather's journal from his supervised work while he was being held by GUN and learns about his work on the "Ultimate Life Form" who can destroy things. Eggman wants to conquer the world and he's like yeah I want that so he breaks into the GUN base where Shadow is in cryo. Eggman is also the first person in 50 years to try the password "Maria" to free Shadow (Gerald got to set the password for whatever reason they've rewritten the lore a couple times don't worry about it).

Also Shadow being freed is so funny like you gotta remember he's 15 and an emo bordering on theatre kid and also the last thing he remembers is his sister getting shot and he sees Eggman, probably didn't even clock that it wasn't Gerald for 30 seconds, and is like "I'll grant your wishes bring me the chaos emeralds and meet me on the ARK lol bye" and what he means is "we're gonna blow up the Earth bc the military killed my sister like 3 hours ago as far as i'm concerned" but like he doesn't tell Eggman this so Eggman's just like "fuck yeah let's take over the world". Eggman goes to meet Shadow on the ARK and Shadow explains the Eclipse Cannon and Eggman's like "cool I can use this to threaten Earth until everyone has to submit to me".

Also Rouge is here because she works for GUN as an agent and they want her to investigate Eggman and Shadow. Also GUN is stupid and keeps trying to arrest Sonic because he looks like Shadow and Shadow robbed a museum bc it had an Emerald. They literally have newsreel footage of Shadow and everyone's like "no this is Sonic" (this makes way more sense if you consider that Shadow's original design as when he was being developed as "Terios" was way closer to Sonic's). GUN arrest Sonic twice in this game, and attempt a third time. Sonic escapes police custody twice and evades arrest on the third one. He also says he doesn't like cops this is important. Anyway he and Shadow keep trying to kill each other. Sonic wants to know what the deal is but that doesn't stop him from trying to fight Shadow constantly. Shadow wants to blow up Earth but this also doesn't stop him from fighting Sonic constantly.

Eggman, Rouge and Shadow go to GUN's Prison Island where they send everyone they arrest and then steal the Chaos Emeralds that GUN has and blow up the island. Using the six Emeralds they have, Eggman powers up the Eclipse Cannon and livestreams himself blowing up the moon with it. The Heroes go to the ARK as well and there's some whole drama there but this ain't about them. Eggman gets the seventh Chaos Emerald and puts it into the cannon, which activates Gerald's doomsday plan that Shadow did not tell Eggman about. The ARK sets off on a crash course for Earth so now the Heroes and Eggman and Rouge are trying to turn it off.

Also there was a whole thing where Rouge looks into Project Shadow and all she can find is stuff about the Biolizard so she thinks Shadow is lying or delusional. I mean we know he's telling the truth but back then this was like adding to the mystery. Not that relevant in retrospect. Moving on.

Back to Shadow. His goal is fulfilled and he's kinda just standing there looking out the window as the ARK falls. Amy got left behind when everyone went to go shut down the ARK and she happens to find Shadow and asks what his deal is. She talks about the good of humanity and manages to partially say the exact same thing as Maria said when she put Shadow in the escape pod when she was dying. Shadow remembers Maria's wish for him to give everyone a chance to live and be happy, cries very briefly, and then runs off because he has his real memories back now and needs to fix this shit.

Sonic and Shadow go Super and use Chaos Control to warp the ARK back into orbit and stop the doomsday program. However Shadow isn't accustomed to using a Super form and is weakened (there's this whole thing about Shadow realising that Sonic might be the true Ultimate Life Form if you take long enough on the final boss). Sonic warns him to return back to the ARK but he doesn't, and ends up losing his super form and falling to Earth, presumably dying (Twitter Takeovers are noncanon but #5 says that Sonic tried to save Shadow but Shadow let himself die because otherwise Sonic would've fallen with him and as far as he knew then, died with him. This isn't shown or mentioned in the games but is likely what happened given that Sonic comes back to the ARK afterwards with one of Shadow's inhibitor rings).

Shadow was actually meant to stay dead and SA2 itself was actually pretty vague about what really happened 50 years ago. Pretty much everything I mentioned prior to the SA2 summary was lore introduced in later media (this will be relevant later). But, Shadow ended up becoming the most popular character in the franchise so Sonic Team decided to bring him back for Heroes and write more solid lore for him.

In Heroes, Rouge is stealing some shit from Eggman and finds Shadow in A Tube so she lets him out. He's being guarded by a robot called E-123 Omega, who decides to fight them because he's angry and loves violence and killing things (not a joke). Rouge manages to stop the boys from fighting each other and is like "let's go find Eggman" so they do and also they're called Team Dark now. She wants his treasure, Shadow has amnesia and wants to know who he is and why he's here, and Omega wants to prove to Eggman he's the best robot ever and also kill and destroy things. I dunno why Rouge doesn't think to tell Shadow anything. I assume it's because this was the first third party mainline title and they wanted to keep things simple for new players who hadn't played SA2 which was only available on Dreamcast or Gamecube, neither of which sold well compared to the PS2 or Xbox.

During the story Team Dark finds a Shadow Android, and later, shitloads of them in Eggman's warehouse. Shadow and the others aren't really sure if he's the real Shadow from SA2 or if he's another android who's just gained sentience. At least now Rouge is somewhat justified in not telling him anything since she's not sure if he's real now. Cue Shadow having an identity crisis. This plot carries over to the next game.

Shadow 05 takes place exactly 50 years after Gerald's deal with Black Doom. The Black Comet comes back to Earth and Doom and the rest of the Black Arms start invading and fucking shit up. So Doom wants Shadow to work for him and conquer Earth so he finds his son and asks him to go get the Chaos Emeralds. He also does not tell Shadow that he's his dad he just tells him what to do and leaves him to work it out and Shadow just does this without question because BD clearly knows who he is so he might be able to tell him who he is.

Shadow 05 is infamous for its choose-your-own-adventure story so to quickly list off the noncanon endings he can:

Destroy Earth (Pure Dark/Dark)

Conquer the universe (Pure Dark/Hero)

Side with his dad (Semi Dark/Dark)

Kill Eggman (Semi Dark/Hero)

Decide he's an android and kill Eggman (Neutral/Dark)

Decide he's an android and kill Eggman BUT take over the Eggman Empire and lead and android uprising this time (Neutral/Hero)

Stay on the ARK and become its protector (Semi Hero/Dark)

Have implied suicidal depression (Semi Hero/Hero)

Go insane with power?? idk what's going on (Pure Hero/Dark)

Say he's gonna kill his dad and presumably does it offscreen (Pure Hero/Hero)

The true ending (that doesn't actually lead from any of the previous so who knows how we got here) has Shadow obtain all the Chaos Emeralds and then BD uses them to bring his Comet into Earth's atmosphere so he can start destroying things. BD then loredrops that Shadow was made to help him conquer Earth and he processes this for like a minute then decides to kill BD. BD then loredrops that he's Shadow's dad and Shadow gets really close to crashing out over this one but the Chaotix manage to find an old tape from Gerald just in time and play it for him that helps calm him down a bit and tells him how to kill BD. Also it reminds him of the promise he made to Maria again.

So he goes Super, kills his dad and blows up the Black Comet destroying the entire Black Arms race. Also if you take really really long on this boss fight then Eggman mentions that he found Shadow after he fell to Earth, confirming this is the real Shadow from SA2 and not one of the androids. After BD is killed Shadow seems to have mostly remembered everything and decides to move on from his past and become his own person.

I'm assuming Sonic Battle takes place after Shadow 05 because he knows he was made by Gerald in this game. So Sonic finds Emerl, that Gizoid robot from earlier, and everyone befriends him but is also trying to work out who/what Emerl is. Sonic says that although Emerl is a weapon of mass destruction, he has a heart and he trusts him to not destroy things, just like Shadow. Shadow has a mini crisis over this and is wondering why he has a soul and feelings if he was created as a weapon and Rouge sits him down and tells him that Gerald didn't want him to be a weapon. Shadow still has Feelings about this but that's kinda it here.

06 isn't canon and also barely makes sense but it had good Shadow characterisation. So we're gonna cover this as quickly as possible. So Shadow works for GUN now (for some reason?? it's only in this game whatever) and he and Rouge go to get The Time God of Italy. or half of it. this half of it is Mephiles, who takes the form of Shadow's shadow. Mephiles and Shadow keep fighting during the game and Mephiles taunts him that hundreds of years in the future, humans blame Shadow for the apocalypse (caused by Mephiles. who looks like Shadow. so) and put him in cryo again (oh yeah Shadow's immortal I don't think I ever clarified that but you probably worked it out). Anyway at the end of Shadow's story he says this raw ass line "if the world chooses to become my enemy i will fight like i always have" and then he takes off his inhibitors and blows up Mephiles. But Mephiles doesn't die and then kills Sonic and then fuses with the other half of the Italian Sun slash Time god and then there's the bit where a human girl kisses a dead Sonic and now he's alive again and triple S go super and blow up the Italian Time slash Sun god. Sonic then erases the god from existence and bam 06 isn't canon anymore praise be.

Is anyone still reading this. Why? I'm not even taking this seriously anymore I'm enjoying this way too much.

So allegedly Sonic Prime is canon and it probably takes place somewhere vaguely around here. Sonic Prime actually doesn't fit on the timeline due to ooc and also Cubot and Orbot but it's "after Sonic Advance 3" so it's either before or after 06. Anyway Sonic accidentally breaks spacetime and is now hopping around the multiverse. Shadow is here too so that he has someone to play off of. They're like. Really gay here like there had to be at least one sonadow fan on the writing team why did they do the SA2 falling thing again that's evil. Also there's one line at the end of season 2 iirc that got translated into. actual romantic language in some dubs kinda like the destiel confession adding in the line for Dean in the Spanish dub. does this mean sonadow is destiel 2. i need to start calling buddie destiel 3. Shadow breaks the sound barrier 3 times in the finale to save Sonic's life while bridal carrying him. love wins. Sonic Prime is pretty mid but bonus points for good yaoi 7/10

In terms of the next big Shadow lore game we have Shadow Generations. The Time Eater sends Shadow to the void but manages to send Maria and Gerald there too from a point in time not too long before shit went down on the ARK. Shadow kinda has the worst day of his life in this one. Also Black Doom managed to regrow himself but he's not at full power. He wants to use Shadow as a vessel due to him being the Ultimate Life Form and so activates all of Shadow's alien biology, making him "perfect" so BD can take over his body. In some ways this acts as closure for Shadow since yknow. He's had amnesia TWICE since he knew them and also the Gerald here gets to tell Shadow all the stuff that he'd only heard previously in recordings about the Black Arms. Gerald also finally Apologises to Shadow directly. Shadow gets like really angry at BD but Maria comforts him and tells him to not give into BD and his anger, since he exists to show the way to the light. Shadow kills his dad for a second time. Gerald and Maria are sent back to their time and Shadow tries to stop it and almost has a panic attack (for the second time this game he has one in the prequel) but Maria comforts him again. Shadow cries again and that's the end of the game.

So by the time we get to Sonic Forces he's kinda just doing his own antihero thing and sometimes works with Team Dark. He kills (? at least beats the shit out of) Jackal Squad, a mercenary team that was working for Eggman at the time. He spares the leader and calls him weak and pathetic and leaves. And this GROWN ASS MAN throws a fit over this and decides he has to prove he isn't weak. So he agrees to be a test subject in Eggman's latest experiement with this rock called the Phantom Ruby that has incredibly inconsistent properties but the big one is Virtual Reality (this in itself is presented inconsistently). So Infinite is infused with the power of the Ruby and wears a mask now because his previous weakling face was unsightly or something. He then decides to shut down Omega and torment Shadow (who doesn't remember him) for calling him weak. He then tells Shadow he's gonna go kill Sonic for some reason. And then does (or at least everyone thinks he does). This is all in the prequel DLC. Shadow shows up halfway through the main game to help the heroes and that's about it.

And that's kinda it. There's the IDW comics in terms of what I'd consider major appearances but I'm like 2 years behind on those so idk what Shadow's up to in those now. There was also the July 2021 Sonic Channel story with him that kinda altered my brain chemistry. Not entirely sure when it takes place. Pre-Forces maybe? You can read a TL of it here.

Oh yeah I should clarify on what was said in the 4kids post. So in that I talked about how the dub in avoiding an onscreen character death actually caused Shadow MCD. Sonic X is interesting because it was developed at around the same time as the "Shadow arc" of games in the early 2000s and ends up taking a different approach to the truth of 50 years ago. I haven't watched X fully yet but from what I know about it Maria never knew Shadow. All of that stuff was made up by Gerald and put in Shadow's brain. Like Maria did exist and there's a whole episode where they meet the soldier who shot her but she didn't know Shadow. Iirc it was something to do with the escape pods she sent down being empty thereby implying Shadow was created entirely on Earth post-GUN raid.

Following the game's SA2 adaptation and his later return, Shadow meets a girl called Molly in season 3. She's a fighter on her planet that's at war and mostly destroyed. Iirc she wants to keep fighting, but her friends are growing hopeless and think they're all just gonna die in battle and never get to live. Long story short, at the end of the episode, she sacrifices herself and charges her fighter ship straight at the enemy and is killed when it crashed into the enemy ship. In the series finale, Shadow helps Sonic fight Dark Oak, the main antagonist of the season, and isn't seen again afterwards, presumably having died. However, he shows up during the credits, visiting Molly's grave, confirming he's still alive.

4kids obviously didn't like the child death, so at the end of Molly's episode she ends up just flying away and says she'll come back someday. The scene of her grave is cut from the series finale for obvious reasons, but in turn makes it seems like Shadow died in the previous episode. Good shit.

If you made it here. Good lord. Uh. I love my son he has every disease. He's so cute here I want to throw him at a wall.

Watch Love Live it's really good please just watch it. And then watch LL Sunshine because it's even better.

AND READ PROJECT SEKAI STORIES.

(Also yes this is the longest post on my blog)

[jungaji]

nights like this ⋆🐾° | l.jn

synopsis: falling in love with jeno was so easy, almost like slipping into a dream you never want to wake up from. but alas, this dream carries a guilt—because loving jeno feels like moving on from a past you're both not ready to leave behind. after all, how do you move forward when the past feels like a promise you can't break? 

! same universe as teddy bear , can be read standalone ૮ .◜◡◝ა

pairing: lee jeno x gn!reader feat. lee donghyuck

genre/cw: one-shot social media au (open ending), angst, hurt/comfort, slight fluff, some humour here and there to keep things light..., timestamps matter!, explicit language

authors note: don't know how many of you saw that poll i posted yesterday but i decided to get this jeno out of my drafts first so i'm sorry if you voted for the other options >O< reblogs, likes and replies are greatly appreciated & Please feel free to send thoughts in my asks !!! happy reading :]

[feinyan]

DATING HEADCANONS featuring. damon maitsu, kai monteago, wolfgang akire, desmond hall and mark berskii.

edens garden maxxing rn :] i enjoyed chapter one a lot, so i’ll be pumping out a bit more writing of them ^^; feel free to send in requests, (even if its for different medias) though i already have 3-4 drafts ill be dishing out eventually.

damon, who treats you like you’re a fragile little doll, prepared for you to break at any moment. hence, why he worries for you so much. though he attempts (and fails) to play it off as a casual concern. ‘are you hurt? bleeding?’ ‘what? no? i just tripped, damon.’ ‘are you sure? let me check just incase. come on, stop moving.’ damon, who always has a limb around you. his hands? wrapped around your waist, or intertwined within your own. his legs? always pressed up against yours. if you point it out, he gets flustered and denies it, pulling away. but you’ll still find his eyes constantly lingering on you, as if he hasn’t felt your contact in months and needed it desperately. damon, who is a tease, yet gets flustered just as easily. sarcastic, teasing remarks always escaping his lips, smirking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. though the minute you retort back with a comment of your own, he's completely quiet. blushing and muttering embarrassed insults under his breath. damon, who doesn’t quite understand standards when it comes to dating. holding a door open for you? walking close to the road? wearing a hair tie on his wrist incase you’d needed one? a foreign concept to him. but regardless, upon hearing things told to him by other people whilst rambling like kai, he tries his best to adapt to it. things that would normally be unusual for him, he attempts because he wants the best for you. damon, who is stingy and a bother about little trinkets you point out. ‘do you really need that?’ ‘that looks stupid.’ ‘its so small. why is it expensive?’ yet of course, they’d somehow end up within your residence. somehow. obviously, it were damon. damon, who spoils you with acts of services. openly doing things he’d refuse to or need convincing for from others, going out of his way to do things for you without being asked, etc. sure, maybe once in awhile he’ll knock on your head and call you an idiot for not being able to do something yourself, but it’s just teasing. he truly doesn’t mind providing for you, or helping you. anything that offers spending time with you is worth it for him.

kai, who couldn’t get enough of you. your touch, your attention, your words, you name it, he likes it. his hands are constantly all over you, any opportunity he’s given. he melts within your touch, in his most vulnerable state, unable to resist anything when it comes from you and your grasp. kai, who spoils you with anything he can offer — cute endearing nicknames, gifts he’d found that he thought you’d like, or even little snacks he thought looked silly that you two could try together. he loves to see your expression light up when he offers you some item he’d found that he thought you’d enjoy. even if you don’t end up liking it, the idea of him being reminded of you or thinking of you enough to make the purchase still leaves you feeling warm. kai, who whiningly calls you princess whenever he needs something from you. aside from his casual nicknames that he adores, like sweetheart or baby, whenever princess leaves his lips, you know he wants something from you. kai, who is admittedly quite insecure. he’s scared he’ll be abandoned by you, just like he’d been left by so many others who viewed him differently due to the persona he puts on online. but because of this, it just means he cherishes what you give him more than anything. he wants you to be able to touch those negative emotions inside of him, and see what really lies within his heart, not what he puts on the internet or around others.

wolfgang, who leaves encouraging little sticky notes around your desk when spending time away from you. reminders to take care of yourself, reminders that he loves you and wishes he were with you, etc. wolfgang, who gently takes care of you whenever given the opportunity. brushing your hair in the morning, making you coffee, assisting you in filling out paperwork, you name it. despite being such a busy man, he works hard to make sure he’s around for you. wolfgang, who despite appearing so cool headed, is such a jealous boy. the type to watch you talk to someone from behind and give them a disgustingly stern glare, but the moment you turn to face him, hes smiling sweetly in your direction. the type to wrap his arms around you and get all close and mushy in order to scare off someone else eyeing you. wolfgang, who invites you out on the sweetest dates ever. picnics under the warm, dimly lit night sky, only the stars witnessing the two of you giggling away and laying together. or, a romantic date at a a fancy restaurant, where the two of you dress elegantly, yet he can’t take his eyes off of you. his mind too caught onto the gorgeous attire tight against your body, too lost in how gorgeous you look whilst speaking to him. wolfgang, who spoils you with luxurious items. anything you want? you’ll get it. he doesn’t mind what you wear, whether or not you like cute or cheap things. what does matter though, is if you want something. and if you want something, you’ll get it.

desmond, who is so smooth with his words, you could die. the way he speaks to you in such a soft and caring tone. the way he goes along willingly with whatever you say, because admittedly, what makes you happy makes him happy. the way he speaks about you in such an endearing way to others. others may be embarrassed when speaking of or sharing about someone they love, but desmond expresses the way he feels for you without hesitation. desmond, who teaches you little quirks about his ultimate. little things that could be useful for protecting you, or just things he finds neat and wants to share with you. desmond, who is perfect for a clumsy you. about to trip? hes already grabbed you, hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you back up onto your feet. about to spill something? hes grabbed the glass, preventing it. his quick reflexes are almost scary.

mark, who loves to kiss a certain part of you. your hands, your nose, silly yet specific places which just make him feel warm. mark, who gets embarrassed about the way he thinks about you. who will be listening to you rambling like usual, yet turn his head out of no where, muttering to himself like a flustered mess. mark, who has an attitude which is no joke. it doesn’t come off as a surprise, but the way he rolls his eyes and grumbles makes it much easier to decipher when he’s displeased or irritated. but to him, you’re a soft spot which can always manage to cheer him up. your silence yet presence close to his serves as a type of battery for him. mark, who is constantly sharing songs that he likes to you. new songs hes found that remind him of you, a song hes been listening to a lot recently, or even just songs hes worked on. he wants you to enjoy what he does.

@ feinyan

[howslemon]

Buttered Bread

Jo Yuri x Male Reader

Word count: 1k+

-> Part 2

1:56 a.m. That’s the time you finally arrived at the hotel after a long day of the Squid Game event in LA. “Have a good night,” you said, bowing politely to the other cast members and staff as you and Yuri stepped out of the elevator.

You swiped the keycard and pushed the door open, stepping inside the room with a sigh of relief. Yuri followed closely behind.

“Argh, I’m so tired,” Yuri groaned, collapsing onto the floor in exhaustion.

To be honest, you felt the same, the day had been far too long. Still, you had to admit it was an honor meeting all the big artists who attended the event. As Yuri’s manager, you knew you needed to brace yourself for more days like this once Squid Game Season 2 officially released.

“Get up Yuri. There’s a couch, you know.” You dropped onto the sofa, pulling out your iPad to start drafting the report for the day.

“Oppa… I’m hungry. Can you call room service?” Yuri turned her gaze to you, her eyes pleading.

“You were asked earlier if you wanted something to eat, and you said no,” you replied, shaking your head.

Her lips formed a pout as she turned her head away, resting it against the floor. “I wasn’t hungry back then.”

You sighed, unable to resist her expression. Without a word, you grabbed your phone and called for room service. Yuri bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back the smile threatening to tug at her lips as she listened to you order her food.

“Thank you, oppa!” Yuri finally got to her feet. “I’ll go get changed,” she said, darting to her room like she was racing the food to the door.

The knock came not long after. “Is that the food?” Yuri shouted from her room.

Seriously, her instincts when it comes to food is something else. At the door stood the room service attendant, balancing a silver tray with practiced ease. The faint aroma of warm bread and something savory wafted toward you, instantly comforting. You signed the check with a quiet “Thank you” before taking the tray and closing the door.

Back in the living room, Yuri was already sitting on the floor by the coffee table, her smile practically reaching the ceiling. Her puppy eyes followed your every movement as you set the tray down beside your iPad. You took the seat across from her.

“Thank you for the food!” she chirped, spreading butter onto her bread. She took one good bite into her mouth.

“How is it?” you asked as you prepared your own.

“Wah, it’s so good,” she replied, her face lighting up as she took another bite.

You reached for your iPad, but Yuri slapped your hand away. “Just do that tomorrow. Don’t you ever get tired?” she asked, annoyance flickering across her face.

“I need to send the report early Yuri,” you said, picking up the iPad with your free hand. As much as you wanted to listen to her, the higher-ups back in Korea are expecting it soon.

“You’re always working so hard. Why don’t you relax for a bit?” Yuri’s voice softened, slightly muffled by the piece of bread she was still biting on. She rose to her feet, her steps light as she moved behind you. The bread bobbed slightly between her lips as her hands found your shoulders, kneading the tension buried deep in your muscles.

A quiet sigh escaped you as her thumbs pressed slow, deliberate circles into your upper back. “That feels good,” you murmured, the day’s dull ache starting to melt away under her touch. She shifted slightly, taking the last bite of the bread still in her mouth and chewing quickly before her fingers worked down your shoulder blades, trailing to the base of your neck. Each movement expertly eased the strain.

You opened your iPad as she continued. “I just couldn’t convince you could I?” she said with a sigh.

“Can’t be helped,” you replied, popping the last piece of your bread into your mouth, chewing calmly as if her words didn’t faze you.

“You know, oppa,” Yuri leaned closer, her breath brushing your ear, “I could use some relief too.”

“Then go to sleep,” you replied flatly.

“Come on, oppa. I know something that will relieve us both,” she teased, whispering softly to your ear as she rests her head on your shoulder. Her arms looped around you, her sweet, alluring scent hitting your nose. Still, your focus stayed firmly on the iPad.

Her eyes flickered to the screen. “‘Yuri delivered an engaging performance at today’s Squid Game promotional event, interacting well with fans and media, despite minor nervousness during the Q&A,’” she read aloud, her face brushing faintly against yours.

She giggled. “Minor nervousness? Oppa, you make it sound like I was about to pass out.”

Your tone didn’t waver. “If you’re done reading over my shoulder, you should get some sleep.”

Yuri pouted but wasn’t fazed. “But I think I deserve more credit, don’t you?” Her hands trailed down your chest, going lower with each word. "Let's just have fun for tonight oppa," Her lips brushed against your ear as she whispers softly before planting a soft kiss.

“Go to sleep, Yuri,” you said, flat and detached, before her hand reaches just above your crotch.

“Tch, you’re no fun,” she muttered with a small huff, pulling back. Her lips curled in a slight sneer, her eyes narrowing just enough to show her annoyance, though the playful glint in them gave her away. It was that unmistakable mix of irritation and teasing you’d seen a hundred times before. “I’ll be sleeping now. Have fun making me sound good on that report.”

She stepped to your side, her hand catching your cheek and turning your head toward her. Before you could pull away, she leaned in and pressed a quick, open-mouthed kiss against your lips, her tongue brushing briefly against yours.

It was casual, effortless, and without any deeper meaning.

You didn’t flinch or react. By now, you were far too used to her antics to let them bother you.

Yuri grabbed another piece of bread and a small cup of butter from the tray, turning to head toward her room. As she reached the door, she paused briefly and glanced back. “Good night, oppa,” she murmured with a faint smirk before disappearing inside, the soft click of the door marking her exit.

For you, it was nothing—just Yuri being Yuri.

••••••••••

Debuuuuttt! I never thought I would actually end up debuting here as a writer. Special thanks to @octoberautumnbox for inspiring me to write Joyul, and also for pre-reading my first draft of this fic.

Thank you for reading and I hope y'all liked my debut fic :). Send me asks if you want to, I wanna know what y'all think.

[reignpage]

UPDATE

Jello!

Just wanted to keep everyone posted about what I'm getting up to. You know me and how I like to yap. I've been revising (barely) but I've also been balancing personal responsibilities so unfortunately I haven't had as much time as I'd like to write up all the things I want to write but I am still dedicated to getting something posted every day. My asks are always open so questions are welcome at any time

Here are my planned posts for the next 7 days.

Pt 2 of Don't You Worry

Will come out today

The first draft is ready and will need rereading to check for typos and any kind of awkwardness in conversation

There will be a third and final part - should come out tomorrow

Roommate smau - they hear you moan their name during a self-care session

Will come after the end of Don't You Worry

Written fic - How the JJK men sleep

Just fluffy stuff

Half-way written

Frat boy!Gojo - penultimate chapter

Also half-way written

Gojo's pov

Beginner's Guide to Writing

Will come out sometime in the next couple days

Feel free to send questions you'd like answering

This will be separate to Beginner's Guide to Angst and Smut

Will focus on writing emotions, on right formatting, dialogue, how to give the sense of time passing, balancing giving too little and too much details etc

The Call of Atlantis

Things will begin to pick up

I'd like to have at least two parts posted within the week

A Cursed series - dragon!sukuna

I want to get one chapter written up

Hey Neighbour!Toji - final part

I know what the ending is already but I just haven't decided if it's going to be 6 or 9 pictures

I'll have to see how things go

Just an insight to ideas I was playing around with:

St. Eden Gojo short fic - mage!Gojo trying to annoy his ex, forest nymph!reader, just cause he can. She grows flowers based on her mood. It'll be a collection of days where he pisses her off. Part fluff, angst, and smut

St Eden Nanami short fic - this will be an alternative story, completely separate from Atlantis!Nanami where he's trying to get a proposal signed off by his academic rival, Student council president!reader, but he basically has to whore himself out for favours

Sukuna x succubus!reader - smut/fluff, sukuna is being haunted by a horny ghost essentially (pretty much reverse of You've Ghost to be Kidding) and to get some peace and quiet he has to give into her horny whims

[alisonwritesimagines]

Please Don't Be In Love With Someone Else ~LA!Shanks x Reader x LA!Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: You keep waiting for Shanks. But someone new comes along and suddenly, you're not so lonely.

Author’s Note: You read the title correctly. I'm evilly laughing right now as you read this in pain. Also, this is technically a rewrite of the angst ending cause the one I wrote and in my drafts is more fluff than angst.

Angst Ending to I Was Enchanted to Meet You

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: angst, fluff, but angst to all you Shanks lovers

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

It had been years since you last saw Shanks. And it's been a year since you last saw Luffy. Ever since he was old enough to sail off in the world to find the One Piece to become King of the Pirates, you had been by yourself since. Of course you did a lot for your small village to keep you occupied but you still missed your boys.

You were tending to your garden as it was time for you to harvest before it became spoiled and over grown. That was until you heard someone say something behind you.

“You don’t seem like someone who can harm a fly."

You turned around to see the warlord Dracule Mihawk standing before you. You stood up straight to seemed less intimidated.

“I can hurt a fly. Don’t think I’m good at harming anyone else,” you tell him as you crossed your arms.

“I see.”

“I know who you are so what do you want?” You asked.

“I was sent to kill you but in all honesty, I don’t think I can kill you. You’re too beautiful to be killed,” he tells you.

“Who sent you to kill me?” You asked, now worried. You’ve stayed in the island since you were born. Not only that, you stayed even when Luffy left.

“Not to worry now. I don't have any intentions to kill you," he tells you.

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"I'm curious to see why someone would send me to go after you."

"Feel free to stay. Just to tell you, it's going to be quite boring," you tell him.

Mihawk stayed around the next day to watch over you. He didn't understand why Vice Admiral Garp would want a warlord like him to kill a sweet little thing like yourself. You did nothing of the sort that would be considered dangerous or even pirate bounty level dangerous.

"Ow!" You yelled as you accidently burnt yourself with the pan.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Mihawk asked you as he rushed inside your home.

"Just burned myself," you tell him.

Mihawk quickly grabbed your bucket of water before gently putting your finger in the cool liquid.

"Thanks," you tell him.

"Of course."

"I made extras if you'd like. I got used to cooking for two," you tell him.

"Was it for you and your past lover?" Mihawk asked you.

"Not really surprisingly. I used to take care of a little boy who used to live with me who had a bottomless stomach. He wanted to become a pirate so he set sail a year ago," you tell him.

"I see."

"So, dinner?"

"Why not."

—

Mihawk stayed for a couple more weeks before he needed to back out to sea. You stood on the deck as you watched Mihawk get ready to leave.

"So I guess this is farewell?" You asked him.

"For now. I will be back in a month at most," he tells you.

"To finish me off and claim your berry?" You asked.

"No. To come see you again," Mihawk said before sailing off. You shook your head at him before walking back to your home.

You assumed Mihawk was lying or joking when he said he was coming back to see you. But to your surprise, you opened your door to see him standing before you.

"Brought you some new seeds for you to grow in your garden," Mihawk tells you.

"I'm guessing you're staying for dinner?" You asked with a small smile.

"If you'd have me," Mihawk said. You nodded before letting him inside your house.

-

As much as you didn't want to admit, you fell for Mihawk. Even though part of you hoped for Shanks to come back, you appreciated the fact that no matter how long Mihawk was gone for or even if he was wounded badly, he came back to you. Even though Shanks would come back to you, he hasn't for years.

"Will you be mine?" Mihawk asked you one night. After a midnight stroll, you both headed back to your home. Mihawk stopped you from walking inside by holding your hand.

"What?" You asked in shock.

"Be mine. I've fallen for you Y/n. And I swear to you, I would never let anything happen to you," Mihawk tells you.

"Alright. I'll be yours," you tell him. Mihawk gave you a small smile before pulling you towards him.

"May I kiss you?" Mihawk asked you.

"Yes."

Mihawk cupped your cheek with his hand before leaning in to kiss you.

-

Shanks rushed over to your home after being away for so many years. He was excited to tell you his adventures and was looking forward to seeing you once again. He knocked on your door, his heart pounding in excitement.

Instead of seeing you, he saw someone else open the door. His smile faltered as he stared at the stranger in front of him.

"May I help you?" The stranger asked him.

"My apologies. I was hoping to find Y/n L/n? The woman who lived here?" Shanks asked.

"Oh. I'm sorry. She's been gone for quite sometime. She left the village I want to say two years ago? Her and her husband moved to another island."

"Her husband?"

"Yes. I'm surprised she married a warlord but he had been kind to the village whenever he was here," the stranger pointed out.

"Do you happened to know her husband's name?"

"I believe it was Dracule Mihawk."

—

Shanks made it to Mihawk's castle where he knew you would be at. After demanding to see you, Mihawk came out to talk to him.

"You should know my wife is resting," Mihawk tells him.

"You took her from me," Shanks angrily tell him.

"I didn't take her from anyone. When I met her, she was alone," Mihawk informs him.

"She never told you about me?" Shanks asked.

"No she has. I just never told her that I knew you."

"Please. Let me see her!" Shanks asked.

"Let me see if she's well enough to move," Mihawk said.

"Is she sick?" Shanks asked.

"Not entirely."

Shanks waited anxiously for you to come down. His eyes widen when he saw Mihawk helping you down. Your stomach was large but he knew that it was because you were pregnant. And what's worse was that it wasn't Shanks's child you were carrying. It was Mihawk's child.

"Shanks?" You asked in shock.

"Hi, Y/n."

-

You sat in the garden with Shanks alone so you two could talk. Shanks stared at you, admiring your beauty once more. While you thought you were alone, Shanks knew that Mihawk was watching nearby.

“Are you happy my love?” Shanks asked you as he held your hand.

“I am. Hawk Eye makes me happy,” you tell him with a small smile.

“I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“I did wait for you Shanks. I really did. But I feared that if I waited any longer, I’d be too old for you,” you tell him with a frown.

“You could never be too old for me. You could have white hair and many wrinkles and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” Shanks tells you. You smiled at him before tearing up.

“I loved you Shanks. And I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you longer."

“Don’t apologize my love. I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you sooner,” Shanks said. You nodded before taking off your makeshift necklace that held the ring Shanks gave to you. You handed it over to Shanks before kissing his cheek.

“I hope life treats you well and I hope you find a woman who will love you endlessly as much as I did,” you tell him.

“And if Hawk Eyes dares to lay a hand on you, come find me. I’ll protect you.”

“I know you will."

"So this is goodbye then huh?" Shanks asked you.

"If you find Luffy, tell him I miss him and love him dearly. And that, he's more than welcome to visit me or find me whenever he wants," you tell him. After all, Luffy was yours and Shanks's unofficial son and you two were his unofficial parents.

"Goodbye, Shanks,” you tell him before giving him a kiss on the cheek once more.

“Goodbye, my love.”

—

You sat on the couch in your lounge room waiting for your son to arrive with his new fiancée. Twenty five years had gone by and you had lived your life. Dracule sat next to you as you both waited for your son to come home. Now that your husband has retired from being a pirate, he had spent his time with you while your children explored the world.

“I wonder what she’ll be like,” you tell your husband.

“I trust his judgement. After all, I chose well didn’t I?” Dracule joked.

“You most certainly did,” you smiled.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” You heard your son say.

“Over here!” You called from where you were.

You smiled at your son the moment he walked in but your eyes widen from the sight of the woman next to him. Not only did she have the exact same hair as Shanks, but she also had the same eyes as him. It was no doubt that she was Shanks's daughter.

“Mother. Father. This is my fiancée, May,” your son said proudly. You smiled at the woman before getting up from your chair to greet her.

“It’s nice to meet you, May,” you tell her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Mihawk.”

“Please call me Y/n,” you tell her as you shook her hand. You noticed her necklace with a ring on it. It looked exactly like the one Shanks gave to you from years before.

“I like your necklace,” you say.

“Oh thank you. My father gave it to me. Said it was his prize possession,” she tells you. You felt your heart break a little from what she said.

“Will we be able to meet your parents soon?” You asked.

“Unfortunately no. My mother passed away from childbirth and my father passed away not too long ago,” she tells you. You frown from hearing that.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m really glad to have met your son,” May tells you. You smiled at her before giving her a hug.

“Well, I know my son will treat you well. And if he doesn’t, you tell me,” you tell her. May smiled at you before looking at your son.

At the end of the night, you stood outside on your balcony as you stared up at the stars.

Maybe this was the universe telling you that in another life, you and Shanks end up together. But you did wish he didn’t have to be gone so soon. You wished that he would’ve came back to you sooner and maybe you two could've had the future you two wanted together.

[gottaluvharry]

family

carlos sainz jr x pregnant!reader

summary: your son has a few questions about why his little sister is in your belly, and carlos is happy to explain

———————————

Lazy mornings with your little family were your favorite. You smiled to yourself as you woke to the hushed whispers of your husband and your son. As you turn to face the other side of the bed, you’re met with 2 pairs of brown puppy dog eyes and 2 identical smiles.

“Buenos dias, mama!” good morning mom your son screeched, proud of himself for using Spanish. “Buenos dias baby” you say through a smile. He latches on to your neck and you feel Carlos’ hand rubbing patterns on your stomach. “Morning hermosa” beautiful he says going in for a kiss. “How is little girl?” he asks. “Sleeping I think. She must be tired after all the kicking she did last night” you groan, recalling the many hours you were woken due to the relentless kicking in your stomach. “lo lamento, se amable con mami” i’m sorry, be nice to mommy he says leaning to talk to his unborn daughter. You just laugh and shake your head at the pout he has on his face, guiding him up by his chin to give him another kiss.

“Papa,” your little boy starts, breaking you and Carlos apart. “How did baby get in mommy’s belly?” he asks as he puts his hand over Carlos’ on your stomach. “Well hijo” son Carlos starts. “Me and mommy love each other, and we made your sister together because we love each other” he says, hoping it’s enough to settle your sons curiosity. “Like when you and mommy make pancakes together?” he asks, now moving to sit in his fathers lap. “No, not like when we make pancakes” he laughs. “He is just made out of love, baby. When 2 people love each other so much and want a little baby like you, they will make one. That’s all I can tell you” he says, avoiding a heavier subject. “But mommy, did it hurt when baby went in your tummy?” he now turns to you with fear in his eyes over the thought of you hurting. “No buddy it didn’t hurt” you assure him, ruffling his hair; but you don’t miss the smirk Carlos sends your way remembering the night in question. “So why does baby stay in mommy’s belly for so long?” he asks, now turning to look at Carlos for the answer. “That’s just where they grow buddy. Babies need lots of space to grow and the only place there is enough room is in a mommy’s tummy” he responds. “Oh” he hums, taking in all the information he’s learning. “But how does baby come out?” he goes on, his eyes lighting up when he gets another question. “When he is ready to come out me and Mommy will go to the hospital and the doctors will help her come out” Carlos answers. “But does it hurt?” your son asks, once again scared of you being hurt. “Only a little bit” you say, “but it is worth it because then we get to hold your little sister”.

As your son continues asking questions and Carlos continues tracing patterns across your stomach, you can’t help but smile at the little life you’ve created. Who knew one bed could hold so much love on a random morning.

—————————————

hope you guys enjoyed this short little blurb:) sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted, there was a lot going on and then i started school but in honor of Carlos’ birthday AND pole today i figured i’d post something!! might clear my drafts out and post some more in the next week or so<3

also my inbox is open, so request anything if you have any ideas! or if you just want to talk to someone, feel free!

okay last thing, thank you all for the support, it’s so special to me to have people with the same interests reading and liking my work, i want to give you all hugs<333

[yvaineseleneposts]

Plus one

A/N: Sorry I have been AWOL. I just got back from Paris/Disney with my exam students. Spring break has started so I am back! Leave me requests if you want to request something.

Requested: no

Pairing: Mat Barzal x reader

Words: 2k

Warning(s): none, it's very fluffy

Mathew Barzal hadn’t planned to ask her.

She was his friend — the kind of friend who knew the name of his childhood dog and called him out when he ordered two desserts “for the table” but ended up eating both. The kind of friend who texted him good luck before every game and made him laugh harder than anyone else could, even after a loss.

Which was exactly why she wasn’t supposed to be his last resort.

But three weeks before his cousin’s wedding, Mat sat on his couch, scrolling through his contacts, each name sending a small wave of reluctance through him. He couldn’t bring just anyone — not to a family wedding in Kelowna where every aunt would be sizing up his date like a draft prospect.

So he tapped her name. The phone rang twice.

“Hey, Barzy. What’s up?” Her voice was casual, warm. It made his stomach tighten in the way he never admitted out loud.

“I, uh…” He scratched the back of his neck even though she couldn’t see it. “Random question. Feel free to say no.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” she said.

“My cousin’s getting married. In Kelowna. It’s kind of a big deal — outdoor vineyard, crazy guest list, you know.”

She let out a small laugh. “Sounds fancy. Where do I come in?”

“I need a date. And, well... I’m out of options.” He winced the moment the words left his mouth.

“Wow, how romantic,” she teased. “You really know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said quickly, then quieter, “I just didn’t think you'd say yes if I said you were my first choice.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Mat…” she said, her voice a little softer now.

“So?” he said, trying to keep his tone light, playful, like always. “Want to come crash a wedding with me?”

She laughed, and it was the kind that always hit him right in the chest. “Sure, Barzal. I’ll be your pity date.”

“I’ll have you know, it’s open bar. And I clean up well.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” she said. “Just promise me you won’t make me dance with your uncles.”

He smiled, a little too wide. “No promises.”

But the truth was, he’d only be thinking about dancing with her.

The wedding was exactly as over-the-top as Mathew had described. Rows of white chairs curved toward a flower-draped arch in the middle of the vineyard, the late afternoon sun painting everything gold. The bride was radiant. The view was unreal.

But Mat couldn’t focus on any of it.

Because she stepped out of the car wearing a dusty blue dress that made time feel like it slowed down. Her hair was half-up, curling softly around her face, and when she smiled at him — really smiled — his chest did something unfamiliar. Something dangerous.

“Wow,” he said, before he could stop himself.

She grinned. “You clean up pretty well too, Barzal.”

He offered her his arm. “Let’s go convince my family we’re not a total disaster.”

She looped her arm through his. “Too late for that, isn’t it?”

___

The reception buzzed with champagne and laughter. Mat’s cousins whispered and winked every time she walked past, and his mom already looked halfway convinced she was part of the family.

She laughed through speeches and toasted with his teammates who made the trip. She even danced with Uncle Rick, whose rhythm should have been illegal.

Mat tried not to stare. Failed, obviously. But watching her — head tilted back in laughter, eyes crinkling — something clicked into place.

She fit. Too well.

And that terrified him.

Later, as the sky turned navy and the fairy lights came on, soft music drifted through the speakers. The kind of slow, dreamy track that was made for swaying close on a summer night.

She was sitting at their table, heels kicked off, sipping a drink when he walked over.

“Dance with me,” he said. Not a question.

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you promise to protect me from this?”

He grinned. “That was before I realized how good you look under twinkle lights.”

She rolled her eyes but took his hand anyway. “Smooth.”

They stepped onto the dance floor. She rested her hands lightly on his shoulders; his went to her waist, almost too careful.

They moved slowly, in sync without trying. The buzz of the day faded into the background — just murmurs and clinking glasses, and the two of them in a bubble that felt too easy to fall into.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“This is surprisingly not awkward,” she murmured.

He laughed, a little breathless. “Maybe we’re just that good.”

A beat passed. The song drifted on.

Then he said it.

Quietly. So quietly she almost missed it.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

She blinked. “What?”

Mat froze. The words hung in the air like mist — soft, irreversible.

“I—” he started, then let out a shaky breath. “Shit. That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to say that now.”

She didn’t pull away.

“Mat,” she said, barely above a whisper.

He looked at her then, all the jokes stripped away, eyes searching hers. “I didn’t ask you as a last resort. I just... couldn’t think of a way to ask you without messing it up.”

Her expression shifted, softening, the weight of the moment sinking in.

“Then maybe you should’ve said that first,” she said, smile curling at the corner of her lips. “Because I might’ve said yes even sooner.”

His breath caught.

“Wait… are you saying—?”

“I’m saying you’re a dumbass,” she teased, leaning in slightly, “but you’re my dumbass.”

The music kept playing. He didn’t say anything else — he just pulled her a little closer and kept dancing.

____

The wedding wound down the way all good ones do — heels forgotten, ties loosened, and laughter spilling into the warm night. But Mat barely noticed. Not when she was still by his side, fingers laced with his as they walked back toward the guest cottages tucked behind the vineyard.

The stars were out in full force, quiet and infinite above them. Crickets chirped somewhere in the grass. The world felt hushed.

They stopped just outside her door.

Neither moved.

She looked up at him, the soft glow of the porch light catching the curve of her cheek. “You okay?”

Mat nodded. Then shook his head. Then gave a small, crooked smile. “No. Not really.”

She laughed under her breath. “Still spiralling about blurting it out on the dance floor?”

He groaned. “I literally had a whole plan to tell you… someday. Maybe. Eventually. Not during a slow dance in front of Uncle Rick and a bunch of shrimp cocktail.”

She stepped closer. “It was kind of perfect, actually.”

He looked at her then — really looked. “So… what now?”

She tilted her head, eyes soft. “Now you kiss me. Unless your plan was to confess and then run away?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was steady, sure — like all the months of unsaid things had finally found their place. Her hands slid to the back of his neck. His curled around her waist. And when they pulled apart, forehead to forehead, neither of them spoke for a moment.

They didn’t need to.

____

Sunlight spilled through the gauzy curtains of her room, golden and lazy. Birds chirped somewhere nearby, and the faint smell of vineyard earth and distant coffee lingered in the air.

Mat was already awake.

He sat on the edge of the bed, in his rumpled white dress shirt and black slacks, looking wholly out of place and yet somehow completely at home.

She stirred, blinking against the light. “You’re staring.”

He smiled, sheepish. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… making sure this wasn’t a dream.”

She reached for the nearest pillow and lobbed it at him. “You’re such a cliché.”

He caught it easily, laughing. “A devastatingly handsome cliché.”

She sat up, pulling the covers around her, and looked at him — really looked. There was something in his face she hadn’t noticed before. Not nerves. Not regret.

Just realness.

“How long?” she asked softly.

He didn’t pretend not to know what she meant.

“A while,” he said. “Long enough to be scared I ruined everything by saying it.”

She reached for his hand. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“I don’t want this to be just a wedding thing,” he said. “I don’t want to go back to pretending I’m just your friend.”

“Good,” she said, scooting closer. “Because I don’t think I could un-know this now.”

Mat leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. “So… are we doing this?”

She smiled, warm and sure. “Yeah, Barzy. We’re doing this.”

And in that sun-drenched room, with the world soft and quiet around them, it finally felt simple.

_____

Three Weeks Later

She’d been to plenty of Mathew’s games before. Cheered him on from the stands. Worn his number on a hoodie, shouted when he scored, even roasted him for missed passes in post-game texts.

But this time? This time, she wasn’t just his friend who watched hockey. She was his girlfriend. And somehow, that made everything feel new.

She smoothed down her Islanders jersey — Barzal’s name stitched across the back — and tried not to overthink it. But her heart pounded a little faster when she caught sight of his face on the Jumbotron during warmups. She smiled instinctively, even though he couldn’t see her. Yet.

“Alright, Ms. Barzal,” teased the friend sitting next to her — one of Mat’s teammates’ girlfriends, clearly already in on the news. “You’re glowing. It’s kind of gross.”

She laughed, cheeks warm. “Shut up. I’m not glowing.”

“You are, though. I respect it.”

The game was intense. Fast-paced. Mat was locked in, weaving across the ice like he was born on skates. He tallied two assists by the second period, and when the buzzer rang at the end of the third with the Isles taking the win, she was already on her feet, clapping so hard her palms stung.

When he glanced up at the stands before disappearing down the tunnel, his eyes found her like they always did.

Only this time, he smiled. Just for her.

____

She stood awkwardly near the corner, watching other girlfriends and family members mingle, sipping beer out of plastic cups and waiting for their guys to emerge. Her fingers tugged nervously at the hem of her jersey.

Then the locker room doors opened, and there he was — hair still damp, suit back on, tie loose, smile easy.

Mat’s eyes lit up the second he saw her.

“There she is,” he said, walking straight over. “You looked good in the stands.”

“I looked good?” she teased. “Did you even notice the game?”

“I mean, I noticed the win,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist. “But yeah. You were kinda distracting.”

She rolled her eyes but leaned into him. “You were amazing.”

“Two assists,” he said, smug. “Pretty solid, huh?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, smirking up at him.

Then he kissed her.

Right there — in the middle of the lounge, surrounded by teammates and families and a million pairs of eyes.

Not shy. Not hesitant.

Just… his lips on hers, his hand steady at her back, like she belonged right there next to him.

When they pulled apart, a few of the guys nearby whooped obnoxiously.

“Get a room, Barzy!”

“Finally made it official, huh?”

Mat grinned, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “Yeah,” he said, eyes still on her. “We did.”

And she realized, in that moment, that this — the hockey games, the post-win kisses, the teasing from teammates — this was real now.

They were real.