19 Works by endlesslycmpunk
Listing Works
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Alexandar squeezed his eyes shut beneath the mask, tears spilling freely now. He shook his head again, weakly. “I was bad,” he finally managed to whisper, the words scraped raw from his throat. “I messed it up.”
Josh responded immediately. “You had a bad game,” he said. “That is not the same thing.”
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the world is wide / the time goes by by endlesslycmpunk
Fandoms: National Football League (US) RPF
19 Jan 2026
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All he had wanted was to come home. That was it. Just come home, crawl into bed, let sleep take him before his mind could replay everything over and over again. He wanted to not think about what happened tonight, not think about the scoreboard, not think about the way the crowd had gone quiet, not think about the sound of that call being made. They lost. A bullshit call and they lost. The words echoed in his head, relentless, merciless. No matter how many times he told himself it was out of his control, that the call should never have been made, the weight still sat heavy on his chest.
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“I am proud of you,” Fernando said quietly, close now, his voice warm against Lance’s skin. “You did so well today, Lance.”
Lance’s breathing hitched slightly. His hands twitched, then finally lifted, gripping lightly at the fabric of Fernando’s shirt as if to anchor himself. He still had not spoken. He was not sure he could without his voice breaking.
“You always make me proud,” Fernando added.
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He did not feel better. Not really. But he felt calmer. The storm inside him had eased, replaced by a heavy, exhausted stillness. He sat there in the bathroom, back against the door, listening to his own breathing, staring down at what he had done. The tiles beneath him were still cold, the light still buzzing overhead, the world outside the room still moving on without him.
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Austin leaned in just enough that their foreheads brushed, careful and tender.
“You don’t have to understand why I love you,” he murmured. “You just have to let me.”
Luka’s breath hitched again, tears sliding freely now as the weight of Austin’s words settled deep in his chest. He nodded faintly, overwhelmed, unsure of how to respond, but clinging tightly to the warmth and safety of Austin’s presence.
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Fernando froze.
Not stepping back. Not recoiling. But still, completely still, like his body had gone rigid in response to what he was seeing. His eyes widened slightly, darkening with something Lance could not immediately place. Shock, yes, but layered beneath it was something heavier. Something that made Lance’s stomach drop.
Hurt.
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“Nico,” he said, quieter now, “no one will remember you not finishing.”
Nico’s eyes lifted to meet his at that, really looking at him now. Gabi’s expression was open, earnest, vulnerable in a way Nico was not used to seeing from him.
“I would have remembered you getting hurt,” Gabi continued. “That would have hurt so much worse than this.”
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“what’s your name?” the man asked next, without hesitation, like asking names from strangers was just something he did.
max blinked.
there it was again, that faint, unsettling feeling that something was off. he wondered, briefly and silently, if he was being pranked. if this was some elaborate joke the universe had decided to play on him. because really, what were the odds. he was tired, irritable, trapped on a ship he hated, sitting through a musical he had not wanted to attend, and now a pretty boy in a bellhop uniform had chosen the seat next to him and started a conversation like they were old friends.
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AJ did not react.
That was what hurt the most.
He did not flinch. He did not step back. He did not look uncomfortable or surprised. He did not smile either, but the lack of reaction felt just as bad. He seemed unaffected by the man’s advances, like Kevin’s hand on his sleeve was meaningless, like it did not register at all. Andrew searched AJ’s face desperately for something, anything. A flicker of annoyance. A tightening of the jaw. A glance around the room. There was nothing.
Not in the way there would have been if it had been Andrew.
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i chased some dumb ideal / my whole fucking life by endlesslycmpunk
Fandoms: Formula 1 RPF
04 Jan 2026
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He crossed the short distance to the door, his footsteps muted against the carpet. For a moment, his hand rested on the handle, fingers curled around it as he took a small breath. He was not nervous, he told himself. This was simple. This was just Gabriel. With that thought grounding him, he pulled the door open.
The sight that greeted him nearly made him laugh out loud.
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Cale had never taken offense.
At least, not outwardly. He had never rolled his eyes or sighed or let frustration show. He would smile, adjust, move on, as if the silence was just another thing to navigate rather than a personal slight. Georgiev respected that, even if he did not know how to reciprocate it. Still, there had always been a stiffness to their interactions, an underlying discomfort that neither of them seemed able to dispel. Politeness could only carry them so far.
Georgiev did not blame him.
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he was dizzy. deeply, unsettlingly dizzy. it felt like the ice beneath him was shifting, like he was still sliding even though he knew he was not moving. he swayed slightly where he knelt, instinctively putting a hand down to steady himself. the trembling had not stopped. his hands shook against the ice, his arms quivering as they supported him. it was frustrating, humiliating even, the way his body refused to cooperate.
god, he probably looked pathetic.
the thought slipped in uninvited, sharp and unkind. he imagined how it must look from the outside, him still down when the play was clearly dead, helmet off, shaking, breathing like he had just finished a sprint. he hated the idea of being seen like this, vulnerable and out of control. he wanted to stand up, to shake it off, to prove that he was fine, but his body did not listen when he tried.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 11,282
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 6
- Hits:
- 234
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His breathing remains shallow, each inhale feeling incomplete. He can hear it in his ears, soft and uneven, and it only makes him more aware of how exposed he feels. The bathroom seems too bright, too revealing. There is nowhere to hide from his own reflection. He wishes, briefly and intensely, that he could just shatter the mirror or look away, but he does neither. He forces himself to keep looking, like punishment, like maybe if he stares long enough he will see something different.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,445
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 17
- Hits:
- 118
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so it isn't fair / to say "i love you" by endlesslycmpunk for plunginginpepsi
Fandoms: Men's Hockey RPF
30 Dec 2025
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Then he would look at Cale. He would take in the familiar lines of the man’s face, the expressions he knew so well, the ones that never failed to ground him. And in that instant, he would remember why they were secret. The answer was always right there, clear and unavoidable. It was because they were both men. Because the world they lived in had rules that did not bend easily, and certainly not for them. Because if they wanted something public, something uncomplicated, one of them would have to be a woman. One of them would have to be something they were not, something neither of them could ever become.
That realization never came with anger anymore. It came with a quiet heaviness, a weight that settled in his chest and stayed there. He did not rage against it. He did not fantasize about changing it. He simply acknowledged it, the way you acknowledge gravity or time. It was a fact of their lives, one that shaped every choice they made. He reminded himself that secrecy was not a failure on their part, but a necessity imposed from the outside. Even so, knowing that did not make the isolation disappear.
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What he had not imagined was this.
Isack took in Liam from head to toe in a single glance, and the longer he looked, the worse it got. Bright red. Bold white lettering. The unmistakable winged wheel logo staring back at him like a personal insult. A Detroit Red Wings jersey. Right there. In his doorway. On a night like this.
Isack let out a low sound from the back of his throat, something between a groan and a hiss. “You cannot be serious.”
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my love tells me / i'm a mess by endlesslycmpunk
Fandoms: National Football League (US) RPF
28 Dec 2025
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He stood there in the doorway, caught between instinct and denial, between what felt familiar and what he insisted was impossible. The hallway was silent behind Jakobi, the world outside the room continuing on without them, unaware of the moment stretching thin between the doorframe.
He swallowed, forcing himself to breathe evenly, trying to keep his face neutral even as his thoughts tangled. He didn't know what Jakobi wanted, didn't know what he was supposed to say or do. All he knew was that the quiet he had been drowning in moments earlier was gone, replaced by something far more complicated.
“Can I come in?” the older man asked.
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His chest still ached, a dull, persistent throb that he knew would not fade anytime soon. He accepted that, the same way he accepted so many other things about himself. Wanting did not mean he should have. Missing did not mean he could go back. Sometimes doing the right thing meant sitting alone in the quiet and letting it hurt.
He stayed there, breathing slowly, letting the reality of his decision settle in. Letting himself feel the weight of it without trying to escape. Eventually, the tightness in his chest eased just enough for him to move again, to exist in the space without feeling like he might shatter.
He did not pick up the phone again.
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The thought left a hollow ache behind.
He hated that part of himself, the part that clung so tightly. He hated how much relief he felt when Isack walked into a room. He hated how quickly his chest tightened when Isack was talking to someone else, laughing easily, moving forward without hesitation.
Isack was free in a way Liam was not.
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Whitaker felt something tighten around his throat, invisible but real, like soft tubing slipping slowly, deliberately, into a noose.