#BECAUSE 1: IT HURTS LIKE HELL AND 2: THERE IS AN INSANE AMOUNT OF PANIC IN MY MIND WHENEVER IT HAPPENS

[saltedsolenoid]

FUCK CAN MY LEFT KNEE STOP TRYING TO DISLOCATE FOR ONE SECOND

[klausinamarink]

Find the word tag game!

i’ve been tagged three times?! hell yeah! thanks @flowercrowngods @sidekick-hero and @penny00dreadful

Rules: search for 5 words in your wips and post them in the sentence(s) they appear, then tag other people with 5 new words.

my words: 1) fresh, despise, flat, warning and suppress (good ones, Sam!) 2) heavy, heart, breathe, chest, hurt (lovin’ the angst night flavour, Dio) 3) breath, hair, smile, fingers, blue, love (fantastic choices, Sandy)

your words: pastel, tooth, confidence, penetrate, interest

tagging next (no pressure!): @ghosttotheparty @thefreakandthehair @theheadlessphilosopher @momotonescreaming

fresh

He froze. The entire back of his hand was coated with fresh blood. Then he realized that his nose was still dripping, some red drops splattering on his new pants.

despise (couldn’t find it anywhere)

flat (Robin being taken to Russia)

“Steve?” She whispers. Or tries to. Her throat is so dry that her voice doesn’t even come out. She squints through the bag, trying to dissect the silhouettes. None of them have large fluffy hair that seemingly defines physics (seriously, Robin had seen Steve’s hair flattened after the Russians threw him on the ground and it had gone back up in a poof some minutes later despite the blood and sweat drenching the locks) or hands on their hips. They’re all too broad and tall and short-haired to even resemble him.

warning (from The Locked Tomb au!)

“Your posture’s off. Too stiff. You held your sword like it’s an axe at the start.” Without warning, Wayne pulled his rapier back and smacked the end of the pommel at Steven’s sternum. Eddie felt the pain secondhand as Steven almost kneeled over, only for Wayne to pull him upright again. He lightly tapped the blade on the Third cav’s shoulder and said, “Point to the Ninth.”

suppress (don’t have it anywhere, sorry!)

heavy (from my Wendigoon does a video about Hawkins fic)

Secondly, while Eddie Munson was twenty years old and in his third senior year at the time, he wasn’t particularly strong. Like yeah, some students said he could push away the jocks easily and his friends had mentioned he could lift heavy amps and boxes, but he wasn’t that strong. Because to even cleanly break a bone right in the middle on your own requires an insane amount of arm muscle. Let alone, all four limbs, each one broken in three or four different places. 

heart (second part to Robin in Russia au)

The tugging continues. This time, Steve is pulled back, fingers slipping away from the photo. His heart shoots up in a panic and he grabs the photo again. Someone is screaming NO, NO, NO, each word making a noose around his parched throat. Then Robin’s ripped into shreds, some of the pieces stuck to his shaking, sweaty hands. Her smile is gone.

breathe (Robin in Russia)

Robin breathes slowly, careful not to alert the Russians. The roaring grows less intense. Then the pressure returns to her ears as the ground starts to tilt downward, less threatening than earlier. She yawns silently again and her ears pop.

chest (from my s3 rewrite)

Annabelle barely had time to turn around when something plunged deep into the front of her chest and neck.

hurt (for the next chapter of Eddie and Will in the Upside Down au)

Or at least, he makes an intimation of a laugh. It sounds just as broken as he feels. His throat is clogged up and rusty, the muscles scraping at each other like nails on chalkboard. Every part of his body hurts.

hair | smile (including both since they’re in the same paragraph)

“If your cavalier is that much of an embarrassment, then would it not be the same for you, Princess?” Eddie barely held down the smug smile crossing his lips as she stiffened. “It would be a shame if, on your first real duel outside of your House, you turn out to be a disappointment of a necromantic heir who can’t even flick a bone speck on my hair. I cannot imagine the scandal.”

fingers | breath (doing the same as above)

Then inexplicably, Steve bowed his head and pressed his lips against Eddie’s hand. It wasn’t on the bones of his knuckles or the back of his hand or even his fingers. Instead, he kissed on the space between the first and second knuckle. It was the most ordinary and random place to kiss one’s hand, but yet it took Eddie’s breath away.

blue

Blue eyes. Freckles. Wavy dirty blonde hair. Smiling.

love (the Eddie and Will in UD next part)

He wants his uncle Wayne to scoop him up in his arms and hold him tight, murmuring gruff words that are always full of safety and love.

[loderlied]

i am so sorry for the amount i am about to send you. general 5, 8, and 9. story specific 1, 5, 10, and 11? you dont have to answer all of them lmao

zeke’s story will never be at full potential without the durge stuff and you didn’t ask for any durge related ones so i will just pretend that he’s still the most specialest bhaalbabe ever just as a companion lol. i’m gonna excuse this self-indulgence by reminding myself that i heard that default durge was supposed to be a companion early in development? anyways.

5. Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

surprisingly it would be pretty hard to get rid of him once you invited him to travel along with you. i wrote a little fic about this scenario a while ago and he’s just a massive self-centered dick when you recruit him but he’s also so insanely confused. not even mentioning the memory loss, he’s a sheltered, paranoid, stressed to hell and back guy who’s being exposed to a new environment and he’s clinging to anything that makes his confusion a little easier—zeke doesn’t know a life without being led by someone, so even if he thinks your leadership is lofty he’ll probably stick around for a while at least, even if you don’t exactly want him around, like a cockroach infestation.

8. What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp?  How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

“Pah, y-you think you and your sorry excuse for a brain up there would survive for A SECOND without my expertise? S-Suit yourself. “ *looks away from player pouting*

“Aha, aha, look who’s here again! Knew you’d crawl back to me. Yes, I suppose I could consider coming with you… Just say the words ‘You were right, Zeke.’ and my mastermind is at your side again. He-Hey! Wait! Don’t leave! For fucks sake, I’m right behind you…”

9. Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

oh god of course. it’s zeke hello. first off we have karlach.

act 1: i think after you’ve traveled with them both for a bit and have beaten the “paladins”/she has revealed her backstory, you get a scene in which you approach zeke like usual but see that his eye is completely blue and bruised, and if you press him he says “that brute devil attacked him for merely trying to have a conversation with her. his fault really, for assuming that she’d be good at anything but mindlessly bashing people’s heads in” (wild statement to make with 6 cha lol) if you then question karlach about it you find out that he was actually incessantly pestering her with questions about her past, completely disregarding her trauma or or discomfort. (this is because his like brain like. tingling? at the gortash mention but he doesn’t know that yet so neither does the player)

act 2/3: so, i haven’t used karlach beyond act 1 yet because i attacked the grove with zeke, so i can’t include anything about her personal quest, but i think they’d sort of. hesitantly grow together over act 2, only for that to get shattered on the big reveal tm at the coronation. there’s so much that can be said about this and i’m already rambling like crazy so i’m gonna summarize: karlach gets super duper fucking pissed, but also is probably smart enough to notice how gortash hurt zeke, not how he hurt her but not any less cruel, when zeke’s mental health starts to deteriorate after reuniting with him. so you can keep them in the party for a while longer together—until zeke straight up tries to murder karlach for being a threat to gortash in a weird panic attack induced mania. he will not have anyone steal his kill. you can either kill him then, let him kill karlach, or knock him out and send him away, but you cannot keep him in your party if you don’t kill karlach.

uugh yikes. shart time!

these bitches are also fighting tm. zeke in the early days essentially sees her as a rubik’s cube to solve, a way to distract himself from his own memory loss by seeking recognition in hers. so while his pestering of her is out of genuine interest, it’s certainly not any less annoying.

zeke also has a complicated relationship with shar. he can get behind the “shadows” aspect, loves those as a stalker, but he has the chronic need to solve mysteries, uncover secrets, know everything, so sharrans are obviously not to keen on him lmao

1. How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

zeke is incredibly distrusting of. well. anything really, so he will advise you to be wary, but he is also smart enough to realize that what they’re saying about them being the only reason they’re protected from the absolute is most likely true, so he tells you to keep them around for as long as they’re useful.

5. How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

asks you how it feels to be one step closer to squid town, then dismissively waves his hand and probably makes a comment how it’ll be fine: there’s not much up there to burrow into anyway. if your approval with him is high he’ll still say that line but sound notably different—louder, more venom, stuttering a lot more, trying to overcompensate for his clear worry for you.

10. How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

wants a bite! zeke is a full body investigator, meaning that he’s not above licking and sniffing everything that seems even mildly intriguing to him lol

11. What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

you don’t get approval or disapproval, when you first prompt him to go he remarks something along the lines of “of course you’d pick me! not like the audience would cheer for any of the other losers in our party” but when you actually force him he’s really nervous lol “o-obviously every good comedian re-rehearses their jokes before! wh-what? no i can improvise, it’s just- well- i’d be at an obvious disadvantage…” and so on lmao

[elysianslove]

haikyuu boys that ━━

━━ would absolutely, definitely, 100% get nauseous, dizzy, possibly might faint, while their s/o is in labor. one peak and they’re doubling over the hospital bed, inhaling deeply and exhaling sharply, steeling themselves. some are surprising, some are expected. all are stupid.

iwaizumi hajime; he just cannot. he cannot fathom what is happening. there is no way you’re going through that and surviving. no wonder you’re screaming in pain. of course you’re screaming in pain. he takes one look at what’s going on and just immediately takes a step back, eyebrows raised and hand pressed to his chest like “my god.” he’s an 8/10 though because he is incredibly supportive and those arms are great to grab onto. will not complain for a second (is strangely way too quiet), but he’s worryingly pale. maybe he’s quiet cause if he speaks he’ll throw up. 

miya atsumu; he’s this close to screaming. or crying. possibly both. he can’t tell if he’s scared in general or scared for you or if he’s hurting seeing you hurting. in fact, no one can tell. he just looks like he’s watching an alien abduction happen right before his eyes. like a 6/10 because he probably does actually faint. it’s almost as if he’s the one in labor. and he’s the annoying kind of supportive that makes you want to smack him like shut the fuck up i’m pushing a whole child out of me right now. but his reactions are extremely endearing and hilarious to watch back because he most definitely insisted on filming. 

akaashi keiji; the silent struggler. really doesn’t wanna make it obvious at all. like he really, really, really doesn’t want you knowing that he’s uncomfortable in any way, but he’s like, sweating from how nauseous he is. a big part of it is hating seeing you in pain; he cringes every time you so much as groan or pant. 7/10 because he’s incredibly supportive but his hands are way too clammy :/ like fr get a grip keiji. again, supportive, but his voice is shaky so it’s like, really ineffective. he cries when he sees his baby and it automatically makes him an 11/10.

sakusa kiyoomi; absolute coward. pussy. it’s not about hygiene, he’s just genuinely mortified. keeps asking you’re okay like,,, what do you think, sir? he keeps looking even though every time he does it doesn’t get any better? question mark? you can see him visibly gulping cause he’s in so much shock. like a 5/10 because he forgets to hold your hand. just stands there. eyes wide and mouth parted like a dumb fish. chokes back on his sobs when he hears his baby’s cries and it’s adorable how he brings his hand up to silence himself so maybe he’s a 7/10.

goshiki tsutomu; please he probably has a panic attack mid labor. definitely screams with you and all the nurses and the doctor are like ???? holds your hand tighter than you’re holding his. apologizes the whole time. the whole time. like the doctor asked him if he wants to see what’s happening, which idk why they would consider that a smart idea, and he just wailed like, “baby i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, can we just adopt?” a 3/10. he’s so cute but. bring someone else if you don’t want to rip your hair out and his. 

kageyama tobio; he absolutely tries to pretend that he’s okay but he just gets really, really quiet once you start delivering and his lips are chapped and his pupils are blown and his face is so pale. he looks like he just got off of a really bad rollercoaster. he’s not even holding your hand you’re just hanging onto an unmoving, lifeless limb. maybe 6/10, cause he could be better in the supportive department but, at least he was quietly panicking. he does have a mini panic attack once his baby is in his arms though. like just starts hyperventilating. it’s okay though! it’s actually kind of cute <3

lev haiba; actually faints. not probably. he actually faints. like all 6′5 of him just drops onto the floor by your bed and you’re like ,,, damn, guess i’m doing this alone then. he wakes up and the first thing he sees is your baby crowning and he just faints again pls. someone has to be there with you, just like to help him to you. he cannot stand straight at all, he’s leaning on the bed the whole time. 5/10 because it genuinely makes you laugh it kind of makes the pain bearable. they have to get a chair in case he just falls back cause he’s just so dizzy pls.

━━ would be so fucking annoying. who the hell let them in this room? why did you agree to this? how are you going to raise a child with them? regrets. so many regrets. 

tanaka ryūnosuke; he’s like annoyingly scared. shut up and calm down for a minute i’m trying to birth your child here. swears so much like “holy shit holy shit that’s a big baby.” like pls you’re trying to push it out of you and he has the audacity to say shit like that? treats it like it’s some sort of volleyball match like he cheers whenever the doctor praises you. maybe a 5/10 cause he’s just annoying, but it’s motivating in a way. accepts any insult you throw at him too, like he’s so on board with it. “yes, i’m absolutely a piece of shit— what do you mean you’re not getting anywhere near my dick babe wait.”

bokuto kōtarō; listen :( you don’t want to think he’s annoying but he lowkey is. he’s trying his hardest to make this an easier experience for you but you just need him to be a little quieter. like this hurts bo, calm down please. you want to match his energy but it’s literally physically impossible. he’s an 8/10 though because you doubt it’d have been possible to go through it without him. bokuto’s incredibly ripped too so he lets you hang onto him and he holds you tightly too, like grips your hands and legs so strong that it’s v physically supportive too. 

kozume kenma; he’s so. quiet. like say something kozume. say anything. he’s just wincing and cringing. 4/10 cause where’s the emotion. lets you hold his hand, like wow you should be honored. insults you back if you insult him???? like what’s that about???? when he sees his baby he does like, sharply intake a breath or whatever cause he doesn’t want to cry but he’s really struggling not to, which is kind of cute you guess. films the whole thing and does like a peace sign with a very nonchalant face but he has a filter on and the filter scans your face too except you’re like screaming. actually a 3/10. 

sugawara kōshi; he’s incredibly supportive yes, but mans will be laughing at you. laughing. at you. probably films you and is like properly giggling and laughing boisterously. is so unfazed by anything and everything he sees. he would so easily be a 10/10 but he becomes a -1/10 just cause he’s an ass. definitely like is breathless and is so mind-blown when he sees his baby. just in awe and in shock that he laughs like, “we made that holy crap.” good to have in the delivery room because he does make the atmosphere easier and more lighthearted, but,,, at what cost? your sanity’s. 

suna rintarō; the amount of times you wanted to punch him you cannot count on your ten fingers. makes some sex joke about how you’re so stretched out. you literally want to deck him. films the birthing process and makes you watch the video when you’re not even done delivering the baby? cause he’s insane i guess? justifies it as “this is a reminder of how strong you are,” like shut up with your bullshit. it’s kinda smart tho cause you can pull this on your kid later but still. he’s so fucking annoying. if you hold his hand too hard he’ll be like “it can’t be that bad stop being such a baby,” and the baby is delivered like an hour early out of spite. a 6/10 tho cause somehow you love him and decided to have a baby with him. 

ushijima wakatoshi; pt.2 to say fucking something??? he’s mostly quiet cause he doesn’t really know what to say, and cause he’s never seen you in this much pain and it’s kind of shocking him. he’s not scared though, cause it’s like, a natural process of human life and the life cycle and all that stuff, he’s just like. taking time to process it. lets you hold his hand though. also if you wanna like give up halfway through he’s annoyingly angry with you like “no. you can’t just give up halfway. stop being a coward.” like why don’t you give it a try toshi??? a 5/10. could do better. 

terushima yuuji; so hyperactive that it’s infuriating. doesn’t even hold your hand, he just stands back and observes and like cheers. literally will jump every time you push, like what the fuck, my love? makes really weird comments like “what does it feel like? does it feel like you’re pooping?” like???? it feels like i’m being torn in half yu :D a 4/10 only cause when you ask if you can slap him he wholeheartedly agrees and the doctor cannot hold their laugh back. also definitely plays like the chika dance and makes the nurses do it with him. probably films a tiktok too. you’re going to kill him after. 

oikawa tōru; he’s trying so hard to be supportive and your backbone but he’s just so jittery and nervous. he’s not going to faint or get nauseous, but he literally cannot stay still. he’s so anxious it’s making you anxious. his hands are shaking when they grip yours, but honestly, completely unbiased of course, an 8/10, cause it really is so endearing. like he’s breathlessly and exasperatingly praising you and you can tell he’s near tears just gasping back sobs so ,,, maybe he’s not that annoying. but he is. he is annoying. a little. 

━━ would be the best of the best. perfectly supportive. a lovely anchor. not too quiet, not too chatty. is so soft and gentle with you. you fall in love with them all over again. 

miya osamu; definitely a 10/10. husband material. he has a cloth that’s just patting away at your sweat. kisses your hand and knuckles. soothingly rubs at your thighs. tells you you’re doing great, that it’ll all be worth it. kisses your forehead. grins at you halfway through when you need that extra motivation. literally all the nurses and the doctor are swooning over him. he’s very nervous deep down but he won’t show it, not for a moment, for your sake. 10/10. can’t stress this enough. 

kita shinsuke; another king! so soft with you when you feel like giving up. just speaks to you in hushed tones like, “you’ve come this far, lovely. you can’t back out now. think of all the happy moments we’ll get to share just a few hours from now.” and you’re like “alright i’m sold.” completely unfazed by anything he sees. okay maybe a little fazed but he just kisses your forehead after sneaking a peak and tells you you’re doing wonderfully. 100000/10. imagine him as the father of your children???? like literally who else would you want????

aran ojiro; wow another inarizaki i sense a trend. except atsumu he’s a pussy. cheers you on quietly, holds onto your legs, breathes with you, smooths your hair back, literally just an angel. if you take a small break he just spends it quietly talking with you to get your mind off the pain. his knuckles are just caressing your jaw and cheek softly till you’ve calmed down. 10/10 obviously. he’s just the right amount of loud supportive and quiet supportive. kisses you full on the mouth when he first hears his baby’s cries and can’t stop thanking you. literally wtf he’s so cute.

kuroo tetsurō; he’s actually surprisingly very serious when you’re delivering the baby. he’s cracking jokes and all before to try and get you less nervous but it’s actually because he’s freaking out. he’s mostly quiet, just holding onto your hand as tightly as you’re gripping his. he holds his breath every time you push. keeps whispering i love you and pressing kisses to your temple. a 9/10 cause he’s so quiet it’s a little scary but he cannot hold back his tears when he sees his baby. kisses you all over your face after. 

satori tendō; very emotional. like so emotional. he’s teary eyed the whole time, just thanking you even if you hadn’t given birth yet. it makes the nurses cry too cause it’s so lovely to see him get so visibly affected by this. he’s just whispering thank you’s and i promise not to let you down ever and i promise to love you forever and you’re pretty sure he’s speaking to the baby you’re birthing at this point. 9/10 cause he made you cry :( no but really he’s a 10/10. super loving, keeps asking you if you’re okay, if you need water, need to hold his hand, anything. angel, fr. 

matsukawa issei; relatively surprising as well because you expected him to be more than just annoying, but he’s just. in awe. he’s so amazed by how much you’re going through, and he just stores it in the back of his brain. literally thanks you for the next 50 years to come. laughs endearingly with you to lighten the mood. 9/10. a point is deducted because he jokingly said that now you’ll be able to take his dick really easily. a nurse choked in shock pls. gets real close after to whisper i love you so that only you can hear. he’s just a dream <3

━━ would not let you move an inch after giving birth. all the work is on them for the next 5 years. 

all of them. not a single one is left out in this one. they’re annoying but ,,, they all love very strongly <3

end note; listen idk what this is. i had a vision where iwaizumi could not handle his s/o giving birth and the thought was actually so sweet to me, just the nurses laughing at him and he’s just breathing deeply to try and not throw up and then. this happened. anyways. this helped put me in a better mood so i hope it does/did for anyone else too! 

[lovenhlboys]

From a Distance (E.Pettersson X Reader)

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Want to be on the tag list?: Tag list form

A/n: Hi!! Here’s chapter 2!!! This chapter is from Elias’s POV, the rest of the chapters will be a combo of the two (and probably one or part of one) will be from Brock’s POV eventually😁 these first two chapters are more just setting up everything. please let me know what you think! All feedback is appreciated!!!!

Warnings: A LOT of cursing (sorry...sorta), Petey not listening, might be a little cheesy (I’m not sorry), an attempt at Swedish (pls let me know if It’s wrong), I think that’s it, lmk if I missed one

Paring: Elias Pettersson X Fem!Reader

Genere: enemies-ish —>friends —> lovers

Legend: on chapter 1

Word Count: 1.8k (this is the shortest one)

Summary: Yeah so, Elias has a “teenage-reminiscent” crush on the one girl he was terrified to like, so he makes a plan to just be her friend, it doesn’t go to well, so he makes a new one.

----------------

PRESENT

----------------

Petty had a crush on Y/N. Y/N Boeser, the one fucking girl he can't have. His best friend's little sister.

When he met her at the mid-point of his rookie year, he'd already heard a lot about her. Brock had told him so many stories and he learned so much about the infamous Y/N, and the more he learned, the more he really liked her. Then there were the other stories Brock told him, the ones that included guys. One he recalls quite clearly.

November, 2018

They were sitting on Brock’s couch, watching One Tree Hill,

“Petey, have I ever told you about Chad?” Brock started.

“No, why?”

“Chad was my best friend in middle school, all the way up to my senior year. Then he wanted to date Y/N.”

“What do you mean ‘up to’ your senior year?” His attention was taken away from the show completely at the mention of her name.

“Well, I told him I didn’t want him to go out with her, but that it was her choice, not mine. So he asked her out, and they dated for like 3 months. Then he broke her heart.”

“What did you do?” Elias was curious.

“Oh, I broke his face”

Elias was shocked, he’d never known Brock to be anything but a (slightly obnoxious) ray of sunshine. “...oh, uh... so what happened to Chad after that?”

“I stopped being friends with him, and so did the rest of my group of friends. Normally I’m not like that, but he messed with Y/N/N.”

“Yeah, I get that. My brother’s girlfriend is basically like my sister and if anyone hurt her, I don’t know what I would do.”

“Yeah so anyways-“

Elias zoned out as Brock kept talking, just thinking about what would happen if he asked Y/N out. He decided then that no matter how perfect and incredible she was, it wasn’t worth his friendship and career with his best friend. He’d just be her friend if anything. And who knows, maybe he’d never even meet her in person.

_______

Now, as he’s walking to the break room Brock asked him to meet him in, he's remembering tjrs how ignorant that plan was. Because once he met her, it was a lot more challenging than he could’ve imagined. The second he met her in person, that plan was incinerated as a possibility.

Dice and ice (February)  2019:

Elias showed up 20 minutes early, he is so nervous. This is his first dice and ice and from what people told him, he knows this isn’t his kind of event. He’s not social, he’s an awkward Swedish hockey player. Not to mention the amount of extra attention he’s sure to get tonight. Brock had told him how much attention he received when he was the star rookie, and that made Elias even more anxious. Thanks, Brock. 

He paced near the front waiting for Brock to get there, imagining all of the ways he could humiliate himself in front of everyone. He was in between “eating too much fancy food and throwing up” and “getting so nervous he forgets how to speak English” for being the worst.

Just as he started to get nauseous from remembering the rookies have to do a performance every year, he found himself unable to breathe. This wasn’t because of the inevitable doom tonight was bound to bring though. He saw the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen on the arm of his best friend. Her dress, her hair, her makeup, her legs, everything he could see was just beautiful.

“Petey!” Brock shouted. 

Elias couldn’t speak still but he made eye contact with Brock. 

“Woah bud, you doin’ ok?” He said with a concerned look.

A choked, “Uh…” was the only thing that came out. Though, he felt that was a sufficient answer to Brock’s question. Elias’s eyes made their way back to the girl now standing behind Brock, since Brock took it upon himself to grab Elias’s face and get very close. He inspected Elias, seeing if maybe he was sick or had a concussion. 

Brock must have been satisfied with what he saw since he took a step back, letting go of Elias’s face. That’s when he noticed his best friend looking at his “date” for the night. 

“Petey, this is Y/N/N, Y/N/N Petey,” Brock said, gesturing to the two of you. 

“Y/N/N?” He asked, suddenly able to speak again. He was looking at Brock with scrunched eyebrows. ‘Is it actually her?’ was all her could think.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you know, my sister that I’ve told you about at least 20 times?”

Elias nodded and looked back at her.

She waved a little, “Hi, it’s Elias right?” she asked.

“Hmm? Uh, yeah, that’s right.” if he wasn’t sweating before, he definitely was now. “It’s Y/N?”

She nodded “yeah but you can call me Y/N/N, most people do.”

He likes her first name though, he thinks it’s such a perfect name, so he decided to just call her Y/N.

All three of them stood there awkwardly for a moment. Though to Elias, it felt like it could’ve been a few hours. He was completely mesmerized and terrified by you.

Brock cleared his throat, pulling Elias back to the world, “so, let’s head inside?”

“Yeah sounds good,” Elias walked in and held the door open for her and Brock.

Walking in right behind them was Jacob, he put his hand on Elias’s shoulder.

“mår du bra? du ser sjuk ut. (are you okay? You look sick.),” he asked.

“Jag kommer att bli bra (I will be fine),” he responded with an unconvincing grin.

As the night went on, Elias couldn’t seem to relax; he kept making sure his tie was straight and he couldn’t stop fixing his hair. For a while, he had to take pictures with the fans and families, with Brock...obviously.

“You just need to relax, Petey,” he had said this about 5 times already.

“I know, I just don’t want to embarrass myself, I’m not very social. I hate these events.”

Brock chuckled, “I swear, the more I learn about you, the more and more I think you and my sister are the same person. The only reason why she’s here is cause I bought her a new fancy dress and cause she’s gonna try and kiss some ass and get a job with management.”

“Wait, so she’s moving here?”

“Oh yeah, I asked her to. Depending on if she gets the job, of course, which she’s sure to get with her resume.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Hey, I’m gonna go find her, you need to relax, just breathe,” Brock said as he stood up to walk away, “And stop imagining the worst things that could happen,” knowing his best friend all too well.

Elias walked over and sat with Bo and Holly, just trying to get through this night without having a panic attack.

The rest of the night went fine, no vomiting or forgetting English, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Because of his luck, that’s when he saw Y/N, and he couldn't look away. She was standing in the corner, looking insanely nervous. Before he could think about it, he was walking over to her. 

“You doing ok?” he asked.

“That obvious?”

He looked down at his shoes, “Hey, at least you don't look sick like I did apparently.”

That made her laugh, one of the happiest sounds he’d ever heard. “Yeah, you didn’t look too happy to be here.”

“Well, these events aren’t really my thing. I heard they aren’t yours either?” he finally looked in her eyes, which was not a smart decision.

“God, no, absolutely not. I hate these things, I don’t get why I need to dress like this and kiss up to people to get a job that I’m already very qualified for.” She took a pause, “even though I do love this dress...”

There was a little silence as Elias wasn’t sure what to say, he decided on, “If it helps, you look very pretty, and I like that dress too.” 

She blushed, “thank you, you don’t look too bad yourself, Elias”

The way she said his name sent chills up his spine, Brock introduced him as Petey, but not once had she called him that. She only called him Elias, and it sounded perfect coming from her mouth. The thing about her was, the more he looked at her, the more beautiful she became in his eyes. The way she laughed, the way she stood with her legs crossed, the way she constantly crossed her arms. To most she probably seems unwelcoming cold, and closed off but to Elias, he saw someone just like himself and-

Oh shit, what is he doing?

He’s literally doing the exact opposite of what he said he was going to, he needs to get away from her. He needs a drink is what he really needs.

That’s when Brock walked over, “hey! There are the two most unfun people in this place!”

“Jackass,” she quipped.

“I’m gonna go talk to Marky,” Elias said, trying to make his escape.

“Fine then, leave me to avoid socializing alone, I guess” she called at him sarcastically.

He nervously laughed and turned around, quickly making his way to the patio that he knew was empty.

Once he got outside he took a deep breath. “Fuck,” he sighed.  He stood there thinking of what he needed to do. He couldn’t end up like ‘Chad,’ he had to stop whatever this is that’s happening to him when he saw her. He’s never felt like this, he’s never even had a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. How the hell did he feel like this for a girl he doesn’t really know? He wished he’d never met her; when he’d never met her in real life, he could imagine she looked weird, or maybe she was really rude (not that he thought anyone related to Brock could be rude). However, that could not have been farther from the truth. She was amazing, and so incredibly beautiful, but not in the conventional way like most of the WAGs here tonight, most of them fit the “hot model, super social, 50,000 picture taking” stereotype that Elias personally didn’t find all that appealing. Shes the perfect height for him, perfect size for him, her hair color and length was even perfect, and that was the problem. She was everything he didn’t want her to be, and more. Her personality was exactly what he wished his future wife’s personality would be: sweet with a little bit of sass, would rather stay inside, doesn’t take shit from people, while still a bit awkward, witty humored, sports loving, lazy Sunday having, and just goddamn perfect. The first word that came to mind when thinking of Y/N, was just that: Perfect.

So he knew what he had to do, he couldn’t be her friend. One small conversation proved that tonight. He had to avoid her as best he could, and do the things he didn’t want to do to her: be cold, shut her out, not talk to her alone. It was going to be incredibly difficult, but he valued Brock's friendship too much.

----------------

PRESENT

----------------

As he looks back, it was the best decision. It was definitely torturous to him, but he had to. Especially after literally every one of his closest teammates was basically like a big brother to her, or a best friend, or a “cuddle buddy” whatever that meant. He can’t even imagine what would happen now. JT, Bo, Brock, Troy, Thatcher, Marky, even Quinn would have his head if he tried anything. And God if he wasn’t terrified of the rage in JT’s eyes when anyone messed with Y/N, it wasn’t human and no one can convince Elias otherwise...seriously fucking terrifying.

-----------------------------------

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[pascalscenarios]

THE ONE (Frankie Morales x Reader)

THE ONE

Frankie Morales x Reader  

Summary: Years ago with Santiago. Present day you go to visit your cousin, only to find out Frankies there. Three of you take a trip down memory lane.

Warning: Swearing // Alcohol Consumption 

Words: 2877

Authors Note:  So for the sake of the story, I changed the amount of years between the last time Frankie and Reader saw each other. Frankie and Reader haven't seen each other in 10 years. Frankie left the reader in 2011. Sorry for the change, but it will make sense later… hopefully. Also not sure how old Frankie is, So I’m saying he’s born in 1979, making him 41.  - k

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Chapter 3

“Santiago!” You sat on the floor, your back against a wall as you hysterically cried through the phone.

“Whoa Whoa, Smiles what’s wrong?” Santiago was concerned, sacred, hearing you so emotional. Never in his life has he heard you cry this hard.

“Frankie- he -I-I don’t know where he- -” you stumble over your words as you try to retell your cousin what has happened. You were hyperventilating, in a panic, not knowing what to do.

“Smiles, I need you to slow down. Take deep breaths for me okay.”

You listen to Santiago’s directions and try your best to calm yourself down. You take deep breaths as you clutched the phone tightly. Your lips tremble as you silently cry.

“Alright, can you tell me what’s wrong? Most importantly, are you hurt?”

“It’s Frankie-” You breathed out.

“Frankie?!” Santiago begins to jump to conclusions. His tone became protective and stern. “Did he hurt you? I swear to god if he-“

You knew what he was implying. “N-no of course not! He would never- You and I both know that...”

“What is it then? What’s wrong?”

You close your eyes, tears falling rapidly, your lips trembling again.

“He’s gone! H-he just up and left with no explanation. He walked out on me. Santi, he left me!” you wailed through the phone. “I-I don't even know what I did wrong! I begged him to stay and talk to me but he took off in his truck with bags packed in the back.” You wiped your tears and runny nose with your hoodie.

“I’m coming over. I’ll be there in a few minutes okay? Just hang tight” You heard the jingle of his keys and the sound of his car's engine starting up.

“Can you stay on the phone with me… please” you whispered.

“Of course.”

… 

Santiago came over and held you until you had no more tears left to cry. That night your cousin promised you that he will figure out what was going on with his best friend and knock some sense into him. Santiago was just as confused as you were. He had no idea why Frankie would up and leave like that, especially if it was you. Frankie was head over heels in love with you. You were his whole world. His life revolved around you. Frankie better have a good reason for leaving.

Santiago tried getting a hold of Frankie for several days until one day Frankie finally answered. The two of them agreed to meet at a park not too far from you and Frankie's apartment. Santiago promised Frankie not to bring you along.

“Dude, What the fuck?! Seriously what is with you?! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for DAYS. Smiles have been worrying sick about you! They’re a fucking mess man, a complete wreck. They’re so broken. You need to go back and make things right. You need to fix this.” Santiago yells as he approaches Frankie who was sitting on a park bench.

“I-I can’t go back there, Santi. I can’t face, Smiles.” His head hung low, his arms resting on his knees.

“Did you mean all those things you told Smiles?” Santiago says sitting next to Frankie on the bench.

“Of course not! I love them, I do. You know that. I love them more than anything, but I did this for Smiles’ good. It’s better off this way. Smiles will get over me. They don’t need me.”

“Frankie, what's going on?”

“I couldn’t bring myself to tell Smiles, so I decided to leave.” He looks up at Santiago with tears in his eyes.

“What did you do?”

…

You laid on your couch, flipping through the TV stations. You were in your pj’s, snuggled up in a blanket. You watched tv to distract yourself from your reality. You heard the front door open, You sit up, thinking maybe Frankie came back, but it was just Santiago.

“Hey.” you give him a small smile.

“How are you feeling?” Santiago says standing in front of the TV.

You click the TV off with the remote, sitting up on the couch.

“I’m alright.”

“Smiles… I went and saw Frankie.”

“What?!” You jump up from the couch, your whole mood changes. “Where is he?! Is he here?! Is he okay?!” You grab Stantiagos shoulders, desperate for an answer.

“He doesn’t want to see you. He’s not coming back, Smiles.”

“What do you mean he doesn't want to see- not coming back?”

“I tried, Smiles. I tried to get him to come to talk things out with you, but he doesn’t want to. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do. It’s up to him.”

“So you know why he left me?… Tell me!” you begged.

“You need to hear it from him, not me.”

“Santiago! I’m your cousin, your flesh and blood and you’re not going to tell me why he left? Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re just going to keep it from me because he’s your best friend. After all, you promised him not to say anything huh! Wow! You’re going to put your best friend before your own family!” You were fuming, angry that your cousin couldn’t tell you the truth, the reason why Frankies gone.

“Smiles, It’s not like that!” Santiago gets defensive.

“That’s EXACTLY what it sounds like! You’re covering his ass by not telling me!” You yell.

“I don’t agree with how he left you. That was wrong with him and he could have gone about it another way, but I’m not telling you because he needs to do it himself. This is his situation, he needs to man up and tell you himself. He will do so when he’s ready to tell you.” Santiago.

“Get out, Santi.” you stare at him deadpan.

“Smiles-”

“GET OUT!” You grab him by his shirt dragging him to the door. Swinging the door open, you shoved your cousin out the door. Before you could say anything, you slam the door on his face.

“Smiles! Open up!” He pounded against the door.

You leaned against the door as you let your body slide to the floor. Santiago's words rang in your head. ‘He doesn't want to see you, He’s not coming back.’  

“He’ll come back.” You say to yourself. “He’ll come around. He’ll be back in a few days.”

You waited days, weeks, months, and years. He never came back.

…

“Santiago!” You smiled as you greeted him at his front door. He embraced you tightly, slightly lifting you off the ground.

“Hey, cousin!” he sets you down on the ground.

Santiago was more like your brother than he was your cousin. The two of you were always close. You had your moments when you couldn’t stand each other. When you and Frankie broke up, you cut off Santiago after he wasn’t willing to tell you. The two of you didn’t talk to each other for a couple of years until you eventually came to terms that Frankie wasn’t ever coming back.

“How are you doing?” he moves out of the way letting you walk into his house. You kick off your shoes, setting your bag on the coffee table, and flopping yourself down onto his couch.

“I’m alright. Just a little stressed from the wedding.”

Santiago shuts the door, walking over to his kitchen off to the right.

“How’s Alex doing?” he asks, opening the fridge grabbing two beers, and popping the caps off with a bottle opener magnet that was mounted on the fridge.

“He’s doing great, he finally got the promotion he wanted.” you smiled.

“Good for him. Alex is such a whiz.” He chuckles as he hands you a beer. You thank him for holding it in your hands.

Santiago sat on the opposite side of the coffee table, sitting across from you.

“I saw him you know.”

“Saw who?” He chugs his beer.

“Frankie.”

Santiago chokes on his beer, leaning forward. Beer spilled out the sides of his mouth, using the back of his hands to whip his lips. He coughs a bit, his eyes widening.

“You saw him?!” he couldn't believe what you just said.

“Yeah, I saw him. I ran into him when I was leaving the bridal store and I ran into him when Alex and I went to lunch a couple of days ago. Alex invited Frankie along.`` You roll your eyes, putting the beer bottle to your lips and taking a swig.

“You need to tell your best friend to lay off.”

“Why what did he do?”

“Santi, he shows up in my life out of nowhere! I was so shocked by seeing him, I invited him to the damn wedding! It’s been a decade since the last time I saw him, and he expects he can just waltz in and act as nothing happened? It took me forever to get over him and here he is making best friends with my finance? Like what type of ex-boyfriend does that? Especially one that's been M.I.A for ten years.”

“So he didn’t tell you about-”

“Tell me about what? The reason why he left? No! He still hasn't told me jack shit, and he owns me that much! He’s been living in my head for the past couple of days and I thought I’ve moved past him and not ever truly knowing his reason for leaving, but it’s like I'm getting sucked back into the early months and years of when he first left. I’m always wondering, questioning, thinking. It’s driving me INSANE.”

You chug down the rest of your beer, setting it down on the table.

“He didn’t even tell me he saw you.” He leans back into the couch.

“Yeah, I thought you would have told him I was getting married. I saw that look on his face when he realized the dress from the bridal shower was mine. I felt bad, why the hell am I the one feeling bad? I had every right to move on! He’s the one that left me! Ugh, I need another beer.” you say as you fall over to the side, your face laying in the cushion.

“I feel like I shouldn't even be telling you this.”

“What why?”

“Because you might go and report it back to Frankie. Telling him he’s been living in my mind rent-free for the past several days.”

“I never talk about you with Frankie, unless he brings you up.”

“Brings me up?”

“It’s like how over the years, you ask me to see how he’s doing, it's the same thing. He would ask me how you’re were doing.”

You groan.

The sliding glass door opens, making you sit up. What the hell?!

“Hey, Santi, you got more caracol?” Frankie says the sticking part of his body inside, holding a beer in his hand. His eyes landing on you. “Oh...hi.”

You didn’t say anything and just gave him a slight smile.

“There should be in the shed, man!”

“Alright,” Frankie says shutting the glass door.

Of course, he was fucking here. You turn to glare at Santiago.

“What the HELL Santi!” you chuck a pillow in his direction.

“Woah Hey!” he says as the pillow lands on him.

“I can’t BELIEVE he's over here! What is he doing over here? Also, he could have heard all the shit I was saying!” You were angry.

“I’m Barbecuing! I didn’t know you were gonna dump all your Frankie drama out on me!”

“Oh god, I can’t with you! You could have told me he was outside!”

“I didn’t think I would have to?! I thought you came to talk about quick sit down chat wedding stuff for a bit then leave!”

You pick up another pillow, shoving it your face and groaning.

“I mean since you’re here you might as well stay,” he suggested.

“No! I already dealt with him at lunch with Alex, I don't need another awkward interaction.”

“Come on, for old time sake?”

“What are we going to do to drive down Memory Lane?”

…

That’s exactly what the three of you did. You ended up staying. Most of the night, you stayed guarded. Your walls were up around Frankie. You didn’t want to let him in easily but failed after the familiarity set in, the atmosphere felt like how things used to be. It felt like nothing had ever happened. You missed the times it was the three of you. You, Santiago, and Frankie sat on the back patio, laughing your asses off. You guys laughed until you cried about the shit you did when you were all younger.

“And remember that one time when we dragged Frankie and his inflatable mattress out of the tent and put him on the lake when he was sleeping!” You laughed

“I remember that!” Frankie threw his head back laughing. “You guys were such assholes, I woke up half away across the lake!”

“You deserved it! You scared me shitless when I thought a damn bear was outside of my tent!”

“I can’t believe you fell for that, yet again you were pretty gullible growing up, Smiles.” Santi laughs.

“Was not!”

“Are too!” Santiago and Frankie.

A phone began to ring. Frankie reaches in his pocket grabbing his phone and answering it.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he says as he stands up, walking over to the wooden railing.

‘Sweetheart’ a pang of jealousy washed over you. He was with someone. You wished that was you. After all these years he found someone. You began to wonder how he met them and how long they had been together. You began to think again where you went wrong. What did you do to make him leave? What did his new partner have that you lacked all those years ago. What were you thinking? You were getting married to Alex soon, none of this should even matter. You try to shake your feelings and shove them down.

“Alright, I’ll see you in a little bit. I love you too.” He hangs up the phone.

You needed to leave. “I’m gonna head home.” You look over to Santiago.

“Okay. Thanks for staying.” Santi smiled.

“Yeah. Thanks for having me over.” You giggle standing up to hug him as he sits in his chair.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too.”

“Hey, It’s late. I’ll walk you to your car.” Frankie buds in.

“O-okay.”

You headed back inside with Frankie, You slip on your shoes, grab your bag and head out the door.

The two of you remained quiet as you walked the sidewalk. Your car was parked at the curb several houses down from Santiagos.

“Tonight was...fun,” he said breaking the silence.

“Yeah.”

“It felt like old times. I miss and think about those days constantly.” He chuckled slightly.

“Yeah...but the past is the past.”

You and Frankie stopped at your White Camry. You put your key into the lock but stop. You turn around.

“What do you want from me?”

“Honestly…” He signed. “I just wanna make things right with you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“It’s not that simple Smiles..”

“Not that simple?! Frankie, I waited for you, YEARS even to come back and to just explain to me. Whatever it was, I would have worked it through with you. I didn’t care what it was, as long as I had you.” you confessed.

“I-look it’s complicated and long-”

“Explain it to me then. Tell me why you left. I’m all ears...” You say taking your hand in his.

“Smiles, Not here. Not now- ” he lets go of your hand.

“Not ever huh?”

“Smiles-”

“You know what? Forget it.” You get in your car, slamming the door shut. You start the engine and drive off, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.

“You should have told them.” Santiago's voice calls out from behind. He comes to stand next to Frankie, the both of them watching your car drive off down the road. “You kept it from Smiles for so long, they deserve the right to know. Hell, smiles deserved to know from the very beginning. You just iced her out for a decade. I’m surprised she made it this long without finding out on their own.”

“I did what I thought was right.”

“I know you were scared, you had every right to be but you heard smiles, she would have stayed if you just would have opened up. I told you countless times to get-go talk to them, Frankie”

“It was easier just to push Smiles away. I did what I had to do.”

“And both of your face repercussions because of that.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“All you can do is just tell smiles about what happened and why you made the choices you did. From there, things will fall in place. Everything is going to turn and be the way it is supposed to be.” Santiago places a hand on Frankie's shoulder before turning and walking back home.

He was still scared like he was a decade ago, but it was time for him to face the music. No running away this time. He had to tell you. He had to tell you about Lilah.

[sevenstarsinning]

Invasion Ch. 5

Description:  A planet conquering race of Saiyans invaded Earth and deemed it worthy of habitation. After bringing the humans to their heels, they set up a new society where humans had one role, to serve. You found yourself in the unlucky faction of being bought and sold as a human pet. With absolutely no interest in owning a human but no way out of having one, Kakarot made a bid on you at the urging of his brother. It was only a matter of time before you were either killed or forced into obedience.

Ch.1  Ch.2  Ch.3  Ch.4

______________________

“Tails. Tell me everything you know about them.” You sat down abruptly next to Bulma at one of the tables in the garden.

She glanced around to see where you even came from, “um, good morning to you too?”

“Tails.” You repeated, needing to know whatever she knew about them.

You rushed there as soon as you’d finished with breakfast that morning. You had too many questions and not enough answers and you knew Kakarot wouldn’t be offering any anytime soon, so Bulma was your only source for information.

“I heard you, but why the sudden interest in them?” She cocked her head to the side.

You let out a sigh, “something happened with Kakarot-“

“Wait, did he do that?!” She saw the bruises along your jaw and turned your face to see the other side.

“No, that was Raditz, what happened with Kakarot was-“

“Raditz?! You promised you’d stay away from him.” She seemed angrier about the marks than you were at this point.

“I couldn’t really avoid him. He burst into the house and attacked me. He ended up throwing me outside after Kakarot lowered my clearance level.” You explained almost too simply, but you had other things on your mind at the moment.

Her mouth hung open for a moment, “I-I don’t really know where to start. I’m a little afraid to ask, but where do the tails come in exactly?”

“Oh, so Kakarot needed my help cleaning his wounds because he couldn’t reach them-“

“Wait, why was he injured? Did Raditz, or did you?” Bulma looked like a deer in the headlights as she tried to make sense of everything.

“No, of course I didn’t hurt him. His mission didn’t go well. Anyways, I was helping him get cleaned up when his tail coiled around my thigh. So, tails. What do you know?”

Bulma sat back in her chair and let out a frustrated sigh, “don’t think I’m just letting the rest of this stuff slide by without talking about it, but their tails are very important in everything they do.”

Bulma explained how sensitive their tails were to pain and pleasure. The right amount of pressure made them compliant, the wrong amount and it caused them excruciating pain. She had the displeasure of making that mistake with Vegeta once, which he responded to by taking away her access to her lab. She quickly learned the kind of touch that was pleasurable. She confirmed that their tails would sometimes act on instinct. They respond to emotional stimuli for the most part, which explained why his tail wrapped around you in response to your kindness, but they do have some control over them.

“Anything else?” You wanted more information but would take whatever she had to offer.

“Depending on the power level of the saiyan, grabbing their tail harshly could bring them to their knees or even make them pass out. But I wouldn’t recommend doing that unless you’re prepared to run for your life afterwards.”

“Thank you so much. For everything.” You moved to stand but she grabbed your hand before you could leave.

“Not so fast, I need more details about what happened with Raditz and Kakarot.”

You sat back down and started from the beginning, walking her through every detail you could. She remained silent for the most part while you recounted everything, only asking a few questions here and there for clarification. By the time you were finished she looked like she was in complete disbelief and trying to process everything. Before she had the chance to recap and make sure she understood everything, she noticed an influx of saiyans heading into the palace.

“Something’s going on. Come on, let’s check it out.” She grabbed your hand and pulled you with her.

Several saiyans were entering the palace from the main doors as you made your way through from the garden. The second the saiyans saw her heading their way, they moved aside. No one dared get in her way for fear of what the Prince would do in retaliation. They knew he would never take up for her outright, but he would find some way to send them to a desolate planet as revenge. Bulma wasted no time in barging into the main room where Prince Vegeta sat on his throne.

“Woman.” He narrowed his eyes at her but did nothing to stop her.

“Prince. We saw a crowd gathering, what’s going on?” She approached him but you stopped by the door before she pulled you up with her.

“I will not have you barreling in and demanding information for things that do not concern you, woman.” He seemed more on edge than before.

You watched and took a step back, considering cutting your losses and going back home. Before you could disappear through the door, you stepped back and immediately froze as you felt a chest against your back, following by a hand on your hip. Your heart pounded in your chest at the possibility of who it was, but when you turned to see Kakarot you felt an immediate sense of relief.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He kept his voice low as he set his gaze forward and not on you.

“I came to see Bulma. Why-“

“Shhh, whatever happens, don’t say a word.”

“Kakarot, come forward. Bring your human.” Vegeta addressed him directly.

Kakarot kept his hand on your hip as he guided you forward towards the prince. He was still in pain, which was clear from the way he limped, but he made no facial expressions to show any discomfort. Bulma remained by the prince’s side but didn’t look very happy. You glanced up at Kakarot but he gave nothing away.

“I’ll assume you received the news this morning?” The prince spoke again.

“Yes, Prince Vegeta. Word came early this morning.” Kakarot kept a calm demeanor as he spoke.

Vegeta shifted and glanced at Bulma before returning his gaze to you, then Kakarot, “you don’t seem to be too concerned.”

“I’ve had trials before, this one will be no different, Prince Vegeta.”

Trials? You furrowed your brow at the word. What kind of trials could he be talking about and why was he having one now?

“Yes, but this one will be different. I will not be residing over it, this time the King will be handling the inquiry.” Bulma looked uncomfortable at the mere mentioning of the King.

You only knew a little about him, just that he remained on their home planet while the prince conquered Earth. You’d heard stories of his ruthlessness and how he would order planets to be destroyed at the snap of his fingers, regardless of any inhabitants.

“I won’t be able to intervene.” The prince added.

“I’ll accept the outcome, Prince Vegeta.” Kakarot nodded.

None of it made sense and it was driving you insane not asking questions. There were too many things running through your mind, and you were biting your tongue to stay quiet like he said, the last thing you wanted was to anger the prince.

“Has there been any word on the other elite warriors that accompanied you on your mission?”

“None.” Kakarot answered simply with nothing more.

His mission. That had to be what the trial was for, but why? He was sent on that mission by the prince himself. None of it made sense and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something being left out by Kakarot.

“Shame. The King will be arriving in three weeks. I suggest you send word to your family as well, I’m sure Bardock would want to be present for the sentencing.”

“Sentencing? Like a punishment for doing your job?!” You turned to Kakarot and blurted out without thinking, to everyone’s surprise and shock.

Kakarot finally looked at you, with complete disappointment that you’d made a sound let alone basically shouted.

“Is there a problem, human?” Vegeta addressed you directly.

Bulma stood beside him with wide eyes, shaking her head slowly to signal an answer to you. You took the hint and immediately tried to retract your interruption.

“N-No, Prince Vegeta. Sorry.” You stammered and averted your gaze from his.

Vegeta kept his gaze set on you for a moment before returning to Kakarot, “we’re finished here, Kakarot, I suggest you get better control over your human.”

Kakarot nodded and grabbed your arm as he pulled you along with him, the same way you’d entered the palace at the urgency of Bulma, you were exiting with Kakarot. You glanced back at her to see a look of pure panic on her face, but you knew it wasn’t for herself, but for you and Kakarot.

He remained silent as he flew you home, keeping you tucked against his chest. The anxiety in your stomach about flying had been replaced by anxiety about the upcoming trial and sentencing. You wanted to simultaneously stay out of whatever it was, but also know what the hell was about to happen in three weeks. Kakarot descended when you arrived at the house, letting your feet touch the ground and pushing past you into the house.

You followed him inside and closed the door behind you, “Kakarot, I’m-“

“No. You don’t get to speak. You’ve said enough.” He pointed at you angrily before he turned to walk away from you but turned back around quickly, “do you realize what could have happened? Vegeta could have killed us both where we stood for no other reason than the annoyance of hearing your voice.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t understand what just happened. What’s a trial? And sentencing sounds like a prison sentence.”

“It’s not a prison sentence, it’s more of a death sentence and due to your little outburst, it could very well end up that way for both of us.” His anger flared and for the first time since he bought you, you felt genuinely afraid of him.

“It doesn’t seem fair and you’re just letting the prince condemn you to death.” You didn’t know what had come over you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from arguing the injustice of the situation.

“Don’t talk about what you don’t know. Prince Vegeta has done more… nevermind. I need to contact my family, I expect dinner to be done when I return.” He brushed past you again as he headed out the door, slamming it behind him.

You were left feeling dumbfounded by the entire conversation. None of it, not one word of it made sense. You felt like humans weren’t the only prisoners on the planet and that there were worse fates than serving as a maid to a saiyan.

As you prepared dinner you replayed the events in your mind. Everything happened so fast it was hard to make sense of it in the moment, plus your anxiety didn’t help the situation. Kakarot seemed so calm, but the second you were back in private, he let his anger rage. You knew you’d messed up, but there had to be more than that. Maybe he was afraid? More worried than he let on? There was also the question about the other saiyans. He had returned, but in bad shape and without the others. You had so many questions, but you knew they wouldn’t be answered, not by Kakarot.

Dinner was done and by the time you started setting out plates, Kakarot returned. He still seemed irritated with you, but clearly not as angry. He took his seat at the table and waited in silence. Something had changed in just the few short hours he was gone, and you could feel it. There was a tension, a weight that sat in the room between you, unspoken, but there nonetheless. You ate in silence for the most part, glancing up at him to see him basically picking at his food, which was out of character for him completely.

“Something wrong with the food?” You asked, knowing the answer already.

“You have two choices and I don’t want this to be an argument so just listen and tell me which you’d prefer.” He stared down at his food.

“Um, okay.” You sat your fork down and leaned back in your chair, giving him your full attention.

“Once I’m sentenced, the question remains on what to do with my possessions, which unfortunately includes you. You can either be placed back into the auction for bidding after the trial or find another saiyan to buy you before the trial.”

The realization that you were nothing more than property wasn’t what hurt you the most, it was that you’d have to go through everything again, or worse, just to survive.

“Not arguing, but is there a third option?” You tried to remain as calm as possible but inside you were fully panicking.

“The arena. Or one of the breeding houses.” He said curtly.

“I feel like it’s already self-explanatory, but what’s a ‘breeding house’?”

He finally met your gaze, “saiyans who can’t afford to buy a human outright go there to mate with them. I’m sure you’re aware of the assumption about human-saiyan hybrids.”

You sat back with the weight of your options, none of which sounded very appealing.

“Do I have to choose now?”

He dropped his fork on the plate and pushed his chair back, frustrated with everything that was happening, “no, but soon. If you have another saiyan in mind-“

“Another saiyan? I only know three total, you, Raditz, and the prince, and I’m not feeling real confident about my survival chances with either of them.” It wasn’t like you had many good choices in front of you.

“It’s your decision, but I would avoid going to Raditz. He always wants what I have, even if that means destroying it to keep me from having it.” It was surprising to hear him speak so openly about his brother’s flaws and their relationship.

“I’ll take that into consideration. Any advice on the prince? I think he already hates me so maybe not the best option either.”

“Intimidating, but you’d have a slightly better chance of living, especially with you being friends with his human.”

It felt like you were having an actual conversation with him that wasn’t arguing or completely one sided. You hated that it was under these circumstances, but you were glad to at least feel a little less alone and for the moment he was on your level. You continued to talk as long as he would allow, asking him more about saiyan culture and the saiyan-human hybrid situation. Bulma had told you a little, but not much. He didn’t fully understand the science behind it, but it was rumored that half-breeds would have a higher power level at birth and could even surpass their parent’s. Kakarot seemed to buy into it somewhat, but no saiyan had successfully produced offspring with a human yet.

“It’s only a matter of time, I guess.” You stood and carried your plate to the sink before returning for his.

As you reached for his plate, his tail quickly coiled around your wrist, making you freeze instantly. You glanced over at him before looking down at his tail again. The simple act meant more this time since you knew how their tails operated. You sat the plate back down on the table and used your other hand to slowly unwrap his tail from your wrist. Instead of releasing it immediately, you gently ran your fingers along the soft appendage, which elicited a low groan from him.

Kakarot watched you intensely, your hand moving softly over his tail. In any other circumstance he would have pulled it away immediately, but there was something curious about how you handled it, not to mention the spikes of pleasure from each brush of your fingers. You had complete control over him, one harsh movement and he would be in the floor at your disposal. He was unsure if you were aware of the fact or not, but he still didn’t hold any concern about you doing it, accidentally or not. When you finally released his tail and let it fall to the side, he realized he wasn’t ready for the contact to stop.

He grabbed your wrist and tugged you down closer, he was hesitant, but there was something that pulled him to you. He ghosted his lips against yours, still unsure if he should continue, but you made the decision for him. You pressed your lips to his and leaned into his kiss. He wrapped his tail around your waist, wanting to keep you as close as possible as your lips moved together in perfect sync. The soft brush of your tongue along his lips made his tail tighten as he pulled you closer against his chest.

You placed one hand against his broad chest, holding yourself up so you didn’t melt into him completely. You should have fought it, but you didn’t want to. You wanted this, to have his lips on yours, his hands exploring your body, and his tail wrapped around you. It was the first time you actually felt wanted and you had been craving intimacy for so long. You weren’t sure if it was your shared impending doom, but it didn’t feel wrong on any level. Your freehand ran along the length of his tail, lightly brushing your fingers over the soft fur and hearing his low groans in response to each touch. His large hands traveled up your back, pressing you against him more as if he was trying to remember what it feels like to have your body flush with his.

Time felt like it had stopped for you both, keeping you connected in this moment, unable to break away for fear of the clock starting again. It was a welcome distraction from your unknown fates.

[the-enby-doughnut]

Of Secrets And Soulmates

Chapter 4 Part 2: we get to see Vee and Patt now!!

TW: Panic Attacks, Crying, Concern For Romans well being, all in all just angst with a tiny amount of comfort these - ___- indicate writing in this chapter

Logans POV: As soon as Roman conked out Logan sat down heavily in the chair next to him. “This is all my fault Em, My fault. can I- oh fuck Im going to regret this- can I have a pen?”

“It's not your fault Lo; you don’t control Ari sweetie,” Emile said, handing him a sharpie and kissing his forehead.

“I’m going to go find Remy; we’ll need to distract your parents for a bit.”

“Yeah, yeah o-ok,” Logan responded shakily. The first letters he tried to write (I’m) came out smudged and shaky and quite unreadable, he still got a response though. -Hi 4, call us? Your hands seem too shaky to write anything…- was scrawled messily in purple before light blue wrote back - ***-***-****, ***-***-**** <3- He grabbed his phone and stepped into the hall, then dialed while sinking back against the wall. After 1 ring he saw a guy with bright purple bangs show up on screen, and after 2 a cute guy with blonde curly hair and glasses appeared.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t-” he choked out before Purple interrupted.

“Name 5 things you see.”

“Door, y-you, the- the wall, my hands, a-and um Blue?”

“Good, 4 things that you can touch, they don’t necessarily need to be touching you.”

“Wa-wall, clothes, door, phone?”

“Now 3 things you can hear.”

“You, my heartbeat, Ro-Roman snoring.”

“Ok 2 things you can smell?”

“Lavender and must….”

“Great one thing you can taste?”

“Citrus I think?”

“Feel better?” Blue asked softly.

“Yeah, how did you guys know that?”

“I have an anxiety disorder, I know these things,” Purple replied.

“Oh… I’m still- I’m still sorry.”

“What for kiddo?”

“I- Roman got- roman got really really fucking hurt and its all- its all my fault…” Blue stared at him.

“Did you decide to hurt him?”

“NO, hell no I- someone I’m acquainted with used him- used him to get to- to get to me and-”

“It’s not your fault 4”

“Yes it is- Roman could’ve died and it would have been my fault.” Purple stared.

“Roman Could’ve DIED!?!?”

“Yes…. I- I can’t explain over the phone,” Logan sighed.

“Could I- could I pick you up? I- I just really think that you deserve to know- to know everything and I can’t explain on here and-”

“4 hun your spiraling”

“Oh, huh, but um I would really like to pick you up, with your consent of course?”

“How?” Purple asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have… connections.”

“Fine.”

“Ok!”

He watched two addresses and states get sprawled across his arm and hung up the call.

He went to Blue’s first, and he carefully knocked on the door. He heard shuffling and the door was opened. “Hi…” Logan said softly, his entire body shaking and on the verge of collapse.

“Hey, Look at me ok?” Logan looked towards Blue, who was way shorter than him. “D’you want a hug Lo?”

Logan recoiled, “I never told you my name, Blue.”

“Oops? Lo, Roman figured out you were our last soulmate the day you met…. He saw the patch covering the heart I drew and you hesitated so he just figured it out. Oh and my name’s Patton!”

“Why- why didn’t he tell me?”

“He didn’t want you to leave; you have to have had your reasons not to talk to us, and he wanted to respect that.”

“Oh….”

“Honey come here, I think you need a hug.”

Logan all but collapsed into Patton's arms. Patton held Logan murmuring reassurances, and once Logan could stand properly again he insisted they go get Purple.

The Faery Circle confused Patton, but they kept on walking to Purple’s house. Purple opened the door before they knocked and said, “You’re not human are you Logan?” Logan looked down and shook his head no.

“What are you then?” Patton questioned.

“I’m a fae… i’m sorry…”

“Can you stop apologizing for existing Logan?” Purple mused.

“I’m not- I can’t not apologize, I have to be good, I can’t do bad.”

“Why?” Patton asked.

“I just- agh I have to be perfect,” Logan groaned.

“Lo you’re a person, it's pretty much impossible to be perfect. We’ll sure as hell like you anyways, Roman definitely does,” Purple said

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain.”

Logan just shook his head and sighed, grabbing Patton and Purple's hands.“I’m not supposed to even be talking to you. Understand that as much as I want to tell you, I can’t. I’m doing this for Roman because I don’t deserve your trust or help but he does, so let’s go.”

“Logan, that’s insane. You deserve our trust, and I’m not going to say I understand why you think that you don’t or why you didn’t talk to us, but we care,” Patton said, squeezing his hand.

“I have to agree with Pat here Lo. You deserve our trust because you’re not a bad person. Clearly, you care. We’re going to be here, even if you- if you leave again, we’ll still be here for you,” Purple said, tilting Logan’s face to look at him.

“Virgil’s right; we won’t abandon you, and we’re not going anywhere – well, except wherever you’re taking us,” Patton said, laughing. Logan quickly filed away that Purple's name was Virgil. They walked faster with Virgil there, which Logan was quite grateful for. As soon as they got through the faery circle Virgil started questioning things.

“You live in a castle Logan?! Also, I don’t care if you drop that illusion of humanity.”

“Yes, I live in a castle, and I kept the illusion up for your comfort, so as long as Patton has no qualms with me dropping the illusion, I’ll happily do so,” Logan stated simply.

“I’m fine with that Lo-Lo!” Logan let the illusion shimmer away from him, and he heard two identical gasps.

Virgil’s POV: When his hidden soulmate contacted, Virgil was immediately concerned, and then he said Roman was hurt. Like really badly hurt – bad enough that he wanted to pick them up. This soulmate also seemed to have a shit ton of confidence and trust issues. Virgil agreed to Logan coming of course, but he was still apprehensive about giving his address.

When Logan got there with Patton, the first thing he noticed was how hard Logan was shaking. He also noticed that Lo should not have gotten there so fast.

What he managed to figure out was that Logan was not human, he was a fae, and he thought he had to be perfect. Virgil disagreed, perfection was a societal concept rich people made so they could look down on everybody, especially different races and religions. Logan thought that he and Pat hated him which was drastically wrong; they had missed him for years but never hated him.

He managed to get them moving, and when they shimmered into existence in Logan’s world they were greeted with a castle – a fucking castle. When Logan dropped the stupid illusion though, he was surprised.

@emy-loves-you, @vann-cat , @icantthinkofacreativeurl , @psychedelicships, @remus-sanders-is-the-bestest , @vixdoesbadart, @little-chaos-bitch , @chowa-san @denkisimp47

[midas-or-khaos]

Spirit, chapter 2

Ughhhhhhhh...waking up is shit. Ice sat in place for his heart, but waking up to these covers is amazing; so soft, like lamb wool or something and it’s all so WARM, like a 360 blanket draining away the frost in his marrow. Whatever was causing that gentle swaying was a life saver. Nice, gentle, swaying...

...Wait. Beds don’t rock, something’s happened. Ohhhhhhhh shit he fainted yesterday hadn’t he? Who (with the exception of trainee surgeons and Victorian women in novels) faints?

People who meet things that don’t exist apparently, ‘cause last time anyone checked giants don’t fucking exist! SOD IT! Ok, calm down, level head, this isn’t the time to go crazy ‘cause otherwise he’s fucked. Just breathe and think it through, what happened? He fainted for the first time in his life, and is now in the possession of whoever found him. Bright side, he was now warm and healing his busted feet, so if a chance to escape occurred, the odds were more stacked in his favour. His head rattled, was it all against him, or was his head pain something else? Concentrate. Other side, the giants could pull him out of whatever cranny they’d stuffed him into at any point and crush him. One option then, he had to try and escape unnoticed before anything happened.

Ok what was the environment Bill was working with? Through the fuzzy walls, the muttering from before was still going on (just quite a bit louder, though not painfully). The language used wasn’t anything recognisable, even the sounds seemed completely left field with the occasional use of whistling on certain words. No ability to communicate, great. Made sense now why whoever shouted back when he called out just said ‘argh’. Bill couldn’t distract them with bullshitting if he was spotted, so that meant extra stealth. He could do that, but how? They’re awake and aware so they’ll notice him moving around wherever he was. Especially if he was close to the body of whichever giant he was attached to. No knife though, so he couldn’t make a hole and slip out. He’d have to force his way out the top, but take it slow.

Lightly patting around in the dark, the smooth wool came to a dip above his head. There’s the bitch. Trying with a hand first, a few fingers managed to slip through the sphincter. Chattering he hadn’t noticed had been there started up at at a whole new level. Chilly, ok, but not too hard. Trying again, the whole hand pushed through, frost lapping at exposed finger tips. Freedom, but dangerous freedom. If there was no shelter once he got out, he’d be back to square 1, freezing his balls off and potentially dying from exposure. However, there was still no change from anyone on the outside, so coast was clear. Better to take a chance. Taking the second hand, it snugly fit in beside the other; now came the tricky part. The angle wasn’t the best, but with all the might he could muster from string bean muscles (and shot glass worth of excitement induced adrenaline), the clenched entrance came apart, and a blinding spotlight snuck through. It’s just there!

On shaking thighs trying to keep balance, the brunette stuck his upper half out, almost instantly a gush threw Bill around like a daisy hanging on for dear life to its stem; the bittersweet outside. As the whoosh past, the opportunity to look round dame at last. The boy wasn’t sure what was worse: seeing nothing, or seeing reality.

He was nowhere, adrift a sea of swaying spines that rolled and tumbled for an eternity all round, in a boat he had no control of, and had no idea of its intentions or direction. Even if he were to escape, there was nowhere he could hide. No shelter he could find. No experience on how to find food. He was as dead out there (he found with shuddering breaths, unsure if it was the chill, or his own rising panic) as he was in the pockets of his captors. There was no way to find home. Jesus...

...his captors had been awfully quiet...

“Doyo?”

Throwing his head back, the boy’s blue orbs grew wide and doe like as a new face held what little concentration he could get from himself in place. Younger, much younger, around mid 20’s? But he held similar features to the older man, so maybe a relative. Wait was he talking to Bill? A shiver, CRAP, he’d been spotted trying to escape!

“Wwwwwwwha?” Was all that could dribble out of the O of his lips.

Curious buttercup coloured irises were hidden by furrowed brows.

“Doyo...deskja jo?”

“I, errrr, em. I’m sorry, I literally don’t understand a word you’re saying, but pleeeeaaaasssse.” He reasons with bated breath, “Pleeeaaassseee don’t hurt me.”

No reply this time, just an abrupt stop, throwing him forward. Rising up rollercoastered his stomach down. A full-shadowed jaw was coming closer, he was about to get eaten, a gruesome death.

“OH FUCK PLEASE DON’T-”

Smush

“-ww...wha?”

The giant pressed Bill to his forehead, holding him there. What the hell was he doing? The heat radiating off was like lava, steaming off his fingertips whilst the wind at his back felt that much worse for it. His holder turned back and called out.

“Sit mayert. Demnot doing great.”

What was that?

The youthful face looked back, the cords of his throat tight and bulging, like he was holding his breath. Did he just switch to English? What he imagining that? HOW WAS THAT POSSIBLE! HOW WAS ANY OF THIS POSSIBLE?!

He was losing his mind, and his body. Limp all round, this unusual unresponsiveness was feeling less like fright, and more like what little heat was being sapped out once more. Bill couldn’t go on, the icy ache was taking over all thought.

A hand like fallen tree descended in like it was nothing, plucking up his upper body and stuffing it back inside his baking prison (which was doing little to warm him truly) and sealed the top shut once more, footsteps becoming thunderous all round. They were moving fast. Fuck, he couldn’t stay awake, the heat was a lullaby, and no matter how much his mind wanted to fight, in the end the body submitted.

...This was getting ridiculous. Where was he this time? Well, at least the supposedly unmoving ice in his body was shifting its way out again, because now he could feel his fingers and toes. Opening his eyes, he was greeted to a pointed roof of what looked like thatch, only it was some ridiculous amount of meters up above to accommodate the gigantic residents. The whole room in fact smelt earthy, walls made of waxed wood and thatching, with something that looked like clay or mud plugging in holes and leaving the air tasting of dust, however non of the elements had any chance of getting in so win some lose some.

Sitting up, a groan threw him back down, a migraine putting him back in his place. Oh the joys of feeling like life’s punching-bag. Something foul smelling and wet suddenly smacked his feet, before trailing over and over his legs. Ew. Shifting to try and pull away, the thing only came back with more vigour, going for the whole body, mo matter how much he tried to pull away. Whatever it was eventually pulled back, and heavy pants came from above. Like that...of a dog. Uncurling, the wide smile, stout snout and wide face was unmistakable. It looked like some kind of Tibetan mastiff, if only some 100x bigger. It seemed friendly though, and that smile was too wonderful to hold a grudge against, it was doing its best to take care of him. Despite being slobbered on thanks to its exuberance, Bill couldn’t help but coo and call it back, wanting to stroke that lion mane ginger hair. Probably felt like silk. The dog was all too happy to oblige, short nose leading in to nuzzle his middle fondly. This was a better way to wake up, lying on a bear-like dog, being snuggled.

“Thanks mate. You’re lovely, aren’t you? I wish I had a dog like you back at Uni, so I would always have someone nice to come home to.” He slurred, draping over the good boy’s snout. A chuff was replied.

How had he become acclimatised to this level of insane so quickly, that he didn’t question or care about lying down with an enormous dog? Had he really given up trying to comprehend, or had his subconscious decided to flood his systems with enough serotonin to not panic himself into oblivion? Because consciously, he still saw this day as maddening. Giants were real, he was tiny, and he was making a bed on a dog. To think, he’d thought leaving his mother to stay on the other side of the country was a big deal. That managed to put a bit of a sour note in his mouth, eyes dulled as he concentrated on his mother. What he wouldn’t do to have her back. Bill’s poor mother must be losing her mind with fright, and in all honesty, he wanted her back more than anything in this world that made less and less sense. Just the sight of familiarity, the smell of floral unconditional love, and the touch of a warm hand.

“Hey.”

...reality made no sense. It sounded like buttercup eyes from before.

“Rooster, you’re not still Ill, are you?”

Rooster?

Not bothering to turn and get up to only let pain drag him down (plus Doge, as the boy decided to coin his new friend, was comfortable), Bill chose to instead groan to the air.

“My name’s not rooster.”

There was a small shift from behind. A new set of breaths, much lighter than the dog’s filtered lightly across his back. He was so close, all that nonchalantly was being replaced by adrenaline. He could grab and control all he wanted. Stay calm.

“Did...you just reply?” Came a stuttered response.

“Surprise. I don’t know either, but I can understand you now.” How very monotone of him, good.

There was a pause on Buttercup’s behalf, so he chose to carry on.

“I think it started when I was pressed to your forehead-” snapped out.

“-You remembered that? I’m surprised, I thought the hypothermia had driven you out of your mind.”

“Hypothermia?” Was that what was messing his head round? To think he’d been that vulnerable.

“Yes. Didn’t you notice?”

“I’ve never had it, so I wouldn’t know.”

A light touch, maybe a finger, grazed his spine. Trying not to shiver is harder than it looks.

“You feel warmer to the touch Rooster, so it’s probably gone.”

There it was again. “Why do you keep calling me rooster?” That may have been a bit too forward. Luckily, Butter seemed to take it in stride.

“Sorry, your determination to live when you were faced with arid land was like that of a rooster. Stubborn. Well, that and the hair. You were tenacious enough to outwit death.”

Don’t really think it was tenacity mate. Looks more like it was luck. It also looked like his luck was out.

Multiple rough finger tips touched both sides. That was the last straw. Unable to stay calm and pretend not to be terrified, Bill let out a shout of “no!”, but the hand had already scooped under his squirming body and lifted him again.

“Shhhh shhhhh shhhh. It’s ok, you’re ok Rooster. Where’s all that bravery from before?”

It was never there, it was all a facade crumbling like dust in the wind. He wasn’t brave, never was, always too afraid to speak up. All of his so called bravery was simple survival tactics that had failed him miserably. He was stupid, and impulsive, getting so caught up in one direction of thought that he never saw the consequences. It was all go, and less stop and think. And now, that immediacy to react had made him scared of the same person that had saved him from hypothermia.

“I’m sorry.” Whispered out.

The hand lifted the boy to a scruffy cheek, sweet almond-shaped eyes looking over adoringly as a curtain of thick, onyx locks cascaded around and just let him be in that moment.

“Don’t be. You’re scared, that’s alright. I would be too if I were picked up by strangers. Let’s get you some food and you can tell me your name. Mine’s Ekashiba.”

“I’m Bill.” He could already tell he was going to forget that name quickly.

At last the brunette was pulled away, feeling better. It wasn’t often that Bill enjoyed close contact, hating to be touched by others (even his own family to a point, though it wasn’t personal), but for a reason even he couldn’t comprehend, Ekashiba’s touch wasn’t as pervasive and unwanted as usually all things were. It was...nice.

As the boy was held at waist level to the man, he couldn’t help but notice in fact, all of Ekashi spoke of warmth, literally. He was wearing some sort of monochrome robe, like a Kimono but made of thick wool, with a similar sort of linen version peaking underneath. On top of that, a deep crimson sleeveless robe and finishing it all off, ring earrings and a bead necklace. But no pockets, Bill noticed with a confused head swivel. How was he carried here then?

Trotting through connecting dome-shaped rooms, the heat started to permeate the air and a sweat was building. There in the centre of the room, a wide birthed fire pit made of sand, surrounded by what looked like the whole family sitting on the raised wooden, tatami matted floor, cooking. They were all chatting amongst themselves, not noticing or uncaring that Buttercup had entered. It was a much larger family than his own, with both grandparents all the way to a kid around 12. 9 of them in total, including the familiar bearded man. Here in the light, the resemblance was striking. Same squat button nose, same sunny eyes, hell even the same thin, bowed lips. Just the addition of crows feet and full beard.

“Dad, Rooster’s woken up.”

The man in question looked up.

“Situ mitsku do toyuma?”

What? Why couldn’t he understand them! For god sake, why’d he have to go through this song and dance twice?

“What did he say?”

Buttercup shot a look down, wide eyed.

“You can’t understand him, but you can understand me?”

“I don’t know! This is all new to me too!”

“Nea...wataki mo?”

“Yes Dad, everything’s fine. It’s just for some reason the little one can only understand me-”

“-Oi, dickhead! I’m 18, not 10-“

“-And we don’t know why.”

The Dad seemed to ponder this for a while, catching the attention of the other members that weren’t cooking (grandparents, wife and the other couple). It got quite heated at one point, and Bill was only managing to be ok with all the frighteningly boisterous shouting because he was still steaming about the earlier comment. Ekashi looked like a cat trying to focus in on one target among a flock of birds, barely keeping on track, and throwing the odd comment here and there.

“Are you sure?” “Doesn’t seem likely.” “I think we need to-“

This was like GCSE French all over again. Tidbits of understanding and the rest a sea of bollocks. Was this good news or bad?

“Buttercup, please, I just want to know what’s going on.”

“Buttrvrup?”

Crap. The brunette forgot only he called him that behind his back.

“That’s not the important bit, what’s going on?”

“They’re trying to decide what you are and if you’re safe to have round.”

“...but I’m like the size of a mouse, why would I be unsafe to have around?”

“They fear you may be a Monster.”

Of course. Why didn’t Bill see that coming.

“...fair enough.” What kind of an answer was that?! He should’ve made more of an effort to try and change the family’s mind through Ekashi.

The conversation just kept going on and on in circles, but one member of the debate was starting to take notice in the boy’s mind. The grandmother, hunched, skin like cracked earth and silvery. She hadn’t said a thing the whole time, just stared at him and watched his hawkish lay with beady eyes. Like she was debating his worth just through observation. Was he doing alright? Was he making a good impression.

“Boy, lift up your shirt.”

Holy shit. “Y-you speak English?” Why didn’t she say anything this entire time!

“Please, do as I ask.”

Everything fell silent, save for the bubbling wok of oil, and everyone came round to see what she was talking about. So silent, the anticipation was cutting.

“...ok.” Taking both hands to the edge of the roughed up t-shirt, the boy himself was reluctant to see what was there, but it had to be done. Putting up resistance as much as he could, shaking hands lifted the edge with nervous twitched rising. There was a black strip. No way. Lifting more the strip became strips, till he got the lip of the edge into his mouth. It was a symbol, like a kanji. A perhaps dreadful realisation, she’d seen this before.

“As I thought. The sign of the heavens. Oki, you can’t harm the child.”

“Kamita odo?”

She didn’t break eye contact once.

“...because that, is your son’s new spirit.”

[iphoenixrising]

Check, Please WIP: Part 1-4

AHL!Bitty

I’m going to hell, but… Parse, Bitty, and Jack or PB&J as I’ve seen it, have some wonderful stories in the fandom, and tbh I’ve come to look at Kent Parsons very differently thanks to a few. You can probably check them out on my Ao3 bookmarks and such. 

Notes: 

I know shit all about hockey but damn if I don’t love Check, Please! Not everything is accurate and some details are mine. Like, I’m just going to pretend the Bruins aren’t in Providence, and the Pawtucket Rebels are the AHL team. 

But then, what if Jack and Bits didn’t get that kiss at the end of Jack’s graduation? What if they just stayed the best of friends, pining away at one another until Kent Parson comes back into Jack’s life. Now it’s not just Jack pining, it’s Kent too :D

And, well, after winning the Championship his senior year, bringing that back to Samwell, Eric Bittle might just think he hasn’t had enough Hockey after all.

Really, it’s time to put up or shut up.

** Pro

Of all the things on Kent Parson’s Wish List (winning the Stanley Cup, being on a team he loves, playing hockey for the rest of his life, having a pet and Kit meets all those criteria for so much cute and cuddly), getting his friendship back on track with Jack Zimmermann hadn’t moved down from number 1, ever. 

Things changed after that disaster at his college frat house, then later in Zimm’s first season with the Falconers, Kent wasn’t sure it could even be a wish. 

When it came to hockey, things were always too easy. They never had to talk about it, about what they were doing on the ice. All of that just came like breathing. Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. The whole Zimmermann-Parson No-Look One-Timer was never something they discussed, it was something that just happened. 

On the ice, they were unbeatable, just like in Juniors.

Off the ice...was a different story. 

(Sometimes he dreams about it, finding Jack passed out on the bathroom floor of the hotel, foaming at the mouth, panic and adrenaline hitting Kent hard when he’s pretty sure his best friend, the man he almost-kind of-sometimes loves, is going to die on this floor.)

Jack’s problem with pills started early, around the time he and Kent got serious enough to play for scouts that started coming around with the promise of watching the son of Bad Bob. 

(He was always partially to blame for Jack’s downfall. Kent had been the closest to Jack back then, had seen the signs, had tried to pull him back whenever he could, had been the one to ease Zimms down before every game, to be the one sitting in a corner with the bigger Canadian, running his hands over Jack’s shoulders and holding his hands, checking his breathing, helping him work through the anxiety.)

But, but!

That’s all old history, something Jack probably never wants to revisit ever again (because he cut you out of his life so well–), even when he makes it to the Falconers. 

(After that disaster at his school, well, no wonder.)

And Kent just has to deal with that, has to accept it finally, and just move on. 

(He could have been an Ace, just that fast, playing with Kent’s team of awesome guys. And fuck did it hurt when Jack turned him down flat...)

Until this little shit came along.

** 1

Eric Bittle realizes he’s severely messed up when he doesn’t kiss Jack Zimmermann at graduation. 

For two years, they’ve played hard hockey for Samwell, have gotten close, becoming best friends. They’ve held checking clinics, hugged tightly in cellys, watched boring as hell history documentaries on that god-awful green couch, and pulled each other back from the brink of insanity during midterms and finals. They’ve spent time in the kitchen with Bitty cooking and Jack working at the table. They’ve spent time outside in the quad, bullshittin’ like the oldest friends, chirpin’ back n’ forth like they’re two peas in a pod. 

Jack somehow started being his best friend without even trying. 

The last game showed him how close they’d become when he’s going through the empty rink, making it to the loading dock, just a flash of jersey leading him to Jack hunched over, tears in his eyes. 

The utter agony right there had gone through Bitty like lightning, driving him forward to hop up on the pallets Jack was sitting on, and wrap both arms around those wide shoulders, hold on to ‘im as tight as he can. 

“It ain’t your fault, Jack. You did so good with us. I’m so proud of you, honey, you have no idea. You worked so hard, so hard, Jack.”

“Bits,” is soft and sad, Jack choking a little, but those big arms come around him, crush him against Jack’s chest and the pads he’s still wearing. 

“I know, I know. Sometimes it just isn’t in the cards, no matter how hard we fight. You get that, don’t you? Sometimes it just is what it is.”

“I can’t–” accept that is what Jack wants to say. 

“I know it’s hard, but sometimes all the trainin’ and plannin’ and best of intentions just aren’t enough to tip the scales in your favor.”

And Jack seems to get something there, tightens his arms a little more, and holds on. 

It’s a little while later when Jack’s stopped shaking like a leaf, “I wanted to bring home a Championship. Wanted to make my mark on Samwell.”

“Of course you did–”

“Thought after all this time, everything I owe Samwell and the team, bringing me here, giving me this second chance–”

“Oh Jack,” at this juncture, Bittle’s head is under Jack’s chin. 

“I finally felt like I’d stopped fucking up,” is rough and dark in the quiet of the rink. “I thought coming to Samwell was a...a punishment. I dealt with it because I thought my life was going to start after, when I finished up my degree and got back into the Draft. But that’s...that’s not how it happened. My life started the minute I met you and the team and I remembered why the hell I love hockey so damn much in the first place.”

And if maybe a few slow, shameful tears escaped Bitty, well, no one would ever know.

But they got even closer as Jack’s graduation loomed, and Eric Bittle stayed in his own personal hell of loving Jack so much it ached, but helpless to stay away to protect himself. 

Instead, when Jack pauses at his door, Bits knows what he needs and finds space to lounge on Jack’s bed, scrolling through Twitter while Jack talks about the negotiations with NHL teams or works on his last assignments. 

Watching Jack pack his things, preparing for the Falconer’s training camp, getting ready for the next stage of his life, all of it makes Bits so dang proud and so sad at the same time.

But, well, nothin’ lasts forever, now does it.

When Jack ran all the way back to the Haus just to see him, just to pull him in hard for a desperate last hold, it was all Bits could do to stop from sobbing his heart out.

“–and you’re coming to Providence this summer to stay with me for a while, and-and I’ll be down when I can. You’re going to Skype me all the time. Bits, promise me. All the time.”

“Okay, Jack. Okay.”

Something soft in French that he has no idea what it could possibly mean, but he absolutely imagines Jack pressing a kiss in his hair. 

“I’m sorry, Bits, but I have to go. I...I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay,” is more watery than he’d like, but he can look up in Jack’s blue, blue eyes and at least feel warm that he’s had this man for as long as he has. When Jack’s hands slide out of his, he somehow doesn’t feel like he’s losing anything at all. 

** 2

And just like that, Jack takes a step in his life he never could have predicted. Like an hour away instead of across the hall is enough to keep holding on, enough that Jack comes to Madison over the summer, enough that he asks Bitty to show him how to use FaceTime and SnapChat. 

It’s enough for Jack to pick him up off his feet every time they meet up and bury his face in Bitty’s hair. It’s enough for Jack to Skype almost nightly while he’s tuckered out in his bed, talking about the joys and pitfalls of being a professional athlete. 

It’s enough that he gets to meet the Falconers long before preseason starts, and the amount of pies he brings is literally obscene.

(It all works out just fine in the end because he goes home with the empty pans. Not a single slice left.)

It’s enough when Jack talks more about life than hockey sometimes, and Bitty is utterly helpless to stop any of it. And it’s funny, he thinks, how he was sure Jack would just flitter out of his life after a while. That they would be reduced to a Skype call once a week maybe when they find the time, then once a month, then not at all, moving into texting once and a while until Jack would be nothing more than one of his best memories of Samwell. 

It’s funny how he thought Jack moving into the NHL, moving to Providence, moving out of the Haus, moving on with his life, would mean also moving on from Eric Bittle.

And my, how wrong he was about all that.

Watching Jack play with the Falconers from the stands with the Stanley Cup on the line is not really where he’d thought he’d be once Jack had graduated. 

But, if anything else, they’ve gotten even closer than before. 

And when the buzzer finally sounds and the Falconers win it, he’s among the crowd running out on the ice for the biggest celly of the year. 

Jack spots him immediately, grabs him up with a victorious roar, and skates around people holding Bitty like a favorite toy until Tater scoops him up from Jack yelling about “Nook pies!”

Marty skates by him, ruffling his hair with something twinkling in his eye. Thirdy hauls him up, too, though Bitty has no idea why all these hockey players are just throwing him around when they’ve just won the Stanley Cup, but he still thinks it’s awful nice of them to include him in their celebration.

He doesn’t go back to Georgia for the summer after all or the next one before he starts his senior year, but goes between staying in Jack’s guest room and the Haus instead. His Mama’s not happy about it at all, but he’s a grown man, so that’s all she can say about that.

So Bitty passes the summer of his Senior year training with Jack or at Faber when the ice is up for grabs, works on some chapters for his someday cookbook, and continues his vlog so everyone can see how superior filo is to choux in the right circumstances.

With the season over after winning the Cup, Jack is over at the Haus more than ever if Bitty’s not in Providence already staying in his guest room. 

It should be strange to answer the door at the Haus on Saturday morning during the summer and see Jack there in his trainers, sweats, and t-shirt, wanting to hang out for the day after he’d put in a few hours at the Falc’s stadium already. 

(“C’mon, Bits. Can’t slack during the summer. You’re the captain. Set an example.”

“Jack, it’s summer. Leave me alone until at least nine am for goodness sake!”

“Not going to happen, bud.”)

It should be strange riding the train or in the passenger seat of Jack’s SUV on their way to Providence while he fiddles with the music and Jack doesn’t complain about the selection. 

It should be strange to wake up on Jack’s couch, laying on a broad shoulder with a heavy arm flopped around Bitty’s waist and logs being sawed in his ear.

It should be strange to know Jack’s kitchen better than the back of his hand, and to be giddy every time there’s a new utensil bought with him in mind.

(“Jack, why in the world would you need a dough scraper of all things?” “Not for me, Bits.”

“O-Oh!”

“Yeah. Thank Tater. He went with me this time. He held up that and said, ‘oh does B have one of these? It looks important.’ I didn’t know so I bought it in case.”)

It should be strange to see Jack’s Skype requests almost every night before bed, or have his former captain sprawled out in Bitty’s full sized bed once Lardo, Ransom, and Holster are already moved out and the new Waffles are well into the first semester of his senior year.

(“Good Lord, Jack, scoot over!”

“Mm.” Jack scootches maybe a foot more so Bitty can climb in beside him, already yawning. “Comfy, bud?”

“Gettin’ there,” and he absolutely ignores how much easier he falls asleep when Jack throws a heavy arm over him.)

It should be strange for Jack to whip him on up in a big hug when he admits the boys voted him as the Captain, and Jack breathes out, “damn right,” too close to his ear.

(“I don’t know if I can do this, Jack.”

“Too bad, Bits. Looks like you’re already doing it.”)

It should be strange for Jack to chirp him about his thesis, about his struggle with Whiskey, about why this darn strudel just won’t turn out right.

(“Jaques Laurant Zimmermann, do not make me ground you from pie.”

“Haha. I know you wouldn’t do that, bud.”

“Oh? Don’t be so sure, Mister.”)

It should be strange to get an earful when his new video comes out and Jack had no idea the jam war was that serious while Bitty has been supplying the Falconers for nearly a year. 

(“Are you kidding? Aunt Judy is really that upset?”

“You have no idea, honey. It’s almost World War III down there.”

“Good thing you’re stuck at Samwell.”

“Good thing is right! I don’t want any part of that mess.”)

But somehow it never is. Strange, that is, to have Jack so much. Even though nothing could happen between them (“Never fall for a straight boy.”), Bitty still can’t let go of Jack, can’t deny him, can’t tell him no, can’t be the one that fails to respond when Jack reaches out for him. 

Even when Kent Parson shows up at a Falcs game and cheers himself hoarse, screams for Jack right there on live TV.

And while trying to get through his dang senior year, trying to get his team to the Eastern Conference, he watches how Jack and Kent start to move back in one another’s orbit.

...which is probably why he doesn’t tell Jack anything about the scouts from the AHL coming to see him after the game with Princeton.

** 3

The Pawtucket Rebels manager, Michael McLean, is the one that meets Bitty with a Standard Player Contract the morning he gets back from Jack’s place when they’re going to be starting in the Frozen Four if they win the next two games.

The weekend away was nice, but he hadn’t been expecting Jack’s intention to introduce him to Kent Parson of the Las Vegas Aces. 

“We’ve already met,” Bitty had filled in, still shaking Kent’s hand with a distant smile on his face, “at the Haus party when he swung on by.”

“Not my best moment,” the Captain admits sheepishly, eyes not meeting Bitty’s, and dang it if the boy ain’t at least a little bit cute. 

“I suppose we all have our days,” Bits just drawls out and gives him a wink. He holds out the plate of fresh cookies as some kind of peace offering. 

The weekend was still nice, being caught up in Kent’s manic energy and Jack’s easy acceptance. But, he starts seeing the signs pretty easily, when Jack’s hand goes to Kent’s shoulder after a good joke, the exchanged glances that linger, the slowly dwindling personal space that used to be there for them. How they start finishing each other’s sentences, and oh, doesn’t it just make his heart give a little beat when he sees them both happy. 

(But doesn’t that just break it at the same dang time. Not only does Jack like men, but he’s already got his sights set on his old boyfriend. It’s almost enough to make a grown man cry. Bitty consoles himself after breaking down in his room on Sunday when Jack and Kent dropped him off at the Haus. Only Senor Bun knew how much he’d ugly cried himself out that night.)

When Mr. McLean gives him the contract to peruse and a business card with his information circled in blue pen, Bitty almost picks up his phone to call Jack, talk about what he would need other than a lawyer to go over this thing. 

He thinks about Kent and calls Coach and Mama the next morning instead, promises to send scanned copies of the contract. Mama asks if this is something he really wants to think about doing after graduation. 

“It’s money, Mama, a lot of money, and who knows? Hockey might not be outta my heart just yet. I’ll still have time for everything else.”

He only feels a little bit bad when Jack Skypes him on a roadie, set-up in a hotel, asks how his darn thesis is going, and promises to be at the next home game. 

Kent joins the call while Bits is slid down all snug and sleepy-eyed, kids around with him by making kissy faces. 

“College is brutal, Bits. You aren’t sleeping enough.”

“Well, now that’s life, ain’t it?”

Bitty knows something’s going on between them because Kent is shaking a finger at the screen and lecturing him about procrastination while Kit snoozes on. He’d only known if Jack told him about it.

“Bits, your thesis is basically about baking. Baking is the thing you love that isn’t hockey.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Bitty slurs tiredly, wondering how he’s talking to the man that’s swiping his unrequited crush right out from under him even though he doesn’t even feel too bad about it. Not when he sees how good Kent is for Jack now, even if that hadn’t always been the case.

(Long as it makes Jack happy, I can endure it. It’s tough, but I’m tougher.)

But really. Kent Parson is so different from his image as the Captain of the Aces, Bitty can’t help but genuinely like the man. 

“I’m so jealous. I love peppermint cookies and I’ve never gotten any sent to me!”

Sleepy time Bitty makes a note of that even when the world fuzzes out a little bit more.  

“God, he’s so cute, Zimms.”

“Euh. He really is, Kenny. We should hang-up and let him sleep.”

Or he might of just dreamed that part.

The Aces have a hard game coming up, and he’s got his outline done, so the Haus is finally going to let him alone long enough to bake one single, solitary pie. In the middle of it, he certainly doesn’t expect Jack to show up with a six pack of Molson Blue, apparently assuming they’re going to watch it together and cheer on Kent.

“But I expect you to cheer for the Falcs when it comes down to us and the Aces, Bits.”

“Oh honey, I always root for the underdog anyhow.”

The chirp makes Jack flop back on his bed and laugh hard enough for tears to be in his eyes. Bitty just goes back to the Aces on his laptop and drinks Jack’s awful beer with a smirk.

He stirs a little from sleep to Jack talking softly beside him in bed since “It’s too late to drive back to Providence tonight. Move over, bud.”

He mutters something maybe, sighing instead when fingers comb through his hair. 

“That W was perfection, Parse. You were skating your best life out there, eh?...sleeping right now. Yeah, senior year is a pain in the ass...you bet I miss you. Three weeks, we’ll be close enough to Vegas...yeah, I’ll try to get him to come along, but the Wellies are getting closer to the Championship...he would kill to bring it home for the boys.”

But he probably imagined all that, too. 

Still, he’s got a short break before the next round of games, and just five days until his deadline to let Mr. McLean have his answer when Jack shows up at the Haus and is apparently confused why Bitty isn’t packed for Vegas.

“What do you mean we’re going to Las Vegas, Jack?!” Because this is the first he’s heard about it, and how does Jack already have a plane ticket for him?

“Come off it, bud. If I go there without you, Kenny will never forgive me.”

“How does he even know I don’t have a game?” He frets while putting sleep shorts in a suitcase, wonders if he should bring one of his suits since Jack is already wearing one. 

Jack’s brows scrunch together, “Don’t you talk to him on that–that bird one? All the time? He says he always reads your updates.”

He pauses with a pair of boxer briefs and gives Jack his very best unimpressed expression, “Jack, sweet pea, please tell me you didn’t just refer to Twitter as that bird one?” He carefully does not say anything about Kent Parson checking his Twitter updates.

The soft smile and shrug in reply answers that now doesn’t it.

“I swear, what would you do without me,” he sighs, a little throb of love getting caught in his chest, and he just busies himself right on past it, going for at least one pair of flip flops probably buried under mounds of winter gear. 

“Honestly? If I didn’t have you these last few years, maybe it would have been like what happened when I was in the Q,” Jack leans back on his elbows on Bitty’s bed, right beside the suitcase he’s quickly trying to pack. Being stuck between two button-ups, biting his bottom lip because he’s already bringing so much takes a backseat when Jack mentions the days he was in Juniors, and Bitty feels his eyebrows raise. 

“When we started checking clinics, you and me, that was the most...balanced I ever started feeling after all that. The, ah, overdose. That...that might have been where I ended up if it hadn’t been for you and Samwell.”

With a breath (because Lord, here was Jack finally talking about it, in such a soft tone, his eyes so very blue, and just! Well, he’s not made of stone and this is Jack), he scoots the suitcase back and plops right down on the bed, reaching for Jack’s hand. He carefully looks at the closed door and rubs those big fingers with his thumb.

“You honestly think you would have made those same mistakes without me, Jack?” He tries to be nice about it, “because I sure as heck don’t.”

His fingers tighten around Bitty’s, a squeeze, a soft thank-you.

“I mean, I didn’t know you back then, so I can’t say who you were, but there are some parts of that Jack left in the one I know now. And the Jack I know now is someone that knows how to lead his team, and takes care of them, who knows how to inspire them. The Jack I know got up extra early just to help this hopeless case learn to overcome his fear and be able to play hockey better than he ever could have before. You helped me not just be able to take the check, but I’m a captain, a center, and I earned it because of you. The Jack I know is selfless in so many ways and selfish in just the right ones, and dang it, he’s my best friend, so you better not say anything else like that about him again.”

The bed shifts under him when Jack sits up, a big hand coming up to palm the side of Bitty’s face so Jack can lean his forehead in, look straight at him from just inches away with those stupidly big blue eyes, and be so warm and just Jack. 

“You were never hopeless, Bits,” and with his voice that low, being this close, Bitty feels his cheeks getting warm, his eyes helplessly sliding down to Jack’s mouth.

The errant thought Vegas, we’re going to Vegas shakes him out of the moment, and he pats Jack’s forearm, gently pulling back from the very intense, heart-stopping moment where his brain almost killed him when it told him to just go on and kiss Jack.

But his brain also knows it would probably be the last thing he’d ever do with Jack because Jack has Kent for that now, doesn’t he?

Mentally shaking himself, Bitty stands quickly, goes back to his suitcase, “All right, now for heaven’s sake, Jack, help me here. I’ve never been to Las Vegas–”

And it’s not nearly as hot in Georgia as it is in Las Vegas when they get off the plane, but everything else about it is incredible. 

(He doesn’t think about how nice it was to ride next to Jack on the plane, talking strategy and the team, the upcoming games and new plays they might bring to the ice. It’s nice to hear about the Falcs eating his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with hollers for more. The pies never last long and cookies are always a favorite.)

He might have worried for about a minute, fiddling with the Uber app on his phone to update his location, but Jack just lays a hand on his back and guides him out of the terminal. 

“Don’t worry about it, Bits, we’ve got a ride.”

And standing by a stunning red Ferrari is Kent Parson himself, grinning wide under his sunglasses.

“Oh my,” even if it’s a little breathless, he gives himself an out here because wow, it’s a nice car. 

(And he is not at all looking at Kent’s bare arms or muscled calves. Absolutely not. He’s already got one heartache, thank-you very much.)

He still squeaks a little when Kent literally picks him up off his feet and swings him around.

“There’s my guys! Falconers and Rebels!” Kent yells for half the airport to hear. 

Jack blinks and Bitty groans softly.

Those blue eyes aren’t accusing him of anything, but it’s that same confused look when he tries to figure out if the next song is Destiny’s Child or Queen Bey herself.

“Rebels?”

He doesn’t wince, but it’s a close thing.

“I’ll...tell you about it later.” He waves off, deflecting perfectly, and snaps up his luggage again now that he’s on his feet.

“Oh,” Kent looks from him to Jack and back to him, and his mouth opens probably to say something else no one else needs to hear.

“Thank-you for coming to pick us up, by the way,” he starts rambling right on, “I’ve never been to Las Vegas before. And we’re even going to watch a game? How exciting! Should I make something for your team? A good luck something maybe? Is there a grocery store close to your house? Can we stop? Maybe I could do a few apple pies and a strawberry one...?”

“You can make me food all day, B,” Kent smiles so wide and white down at him and just swipes his bag right up out of Bitty’s hand like it weighs nothing at all. “My favorite pie is peach, just in case you were wondering.”

Bitty slaps him right on the arm, absolutely offended. “Kenneth Virgil Parson the Third, like I wouldn’t already know what your favorite pie is! Why of all the nerve!”

And that is how Bitty talked himself right out of the AHL conversation with Jack. At least, for the time being. 

**

In the end, he makes two apples, two strawberries, and three peach pies, one for Kenny to keep at home.

Jack mutters under his breath about the Falcs needing a peach pie, and Bitty can absolutely do that once they get back home. 

The boys are wonderful at keeping him company in Kent’s big kitchen while he works, staying out of his way unless he directs them. 

“It’s not going to be a super exciting game. The Schooners are old rivals since before I came to the Aces,” Kenny shrugs, fish oven mitts on, and his own apron is really just Kit’s face blown up on a white background.

But the man’s fish oven mitt is–

Wait for it

– named Fish.

Because Kent is a master at naming things, obviously.

Kit Puurson is laying on the kitchen table from where Bitty banished her from walking along the counters while he’s baking.

“Now, don’t sell it short, sugar pie,” Bitty replies absently, makes the lattice on the last pie perfect. The A in the center is going to be great once the pie finishes baking. “It’s going to be exciting to see you play live no matter what.”

“Aw,” and Kent is smiling all nice at him now that he probably knows Bitty’s not gunning for his boyfr- for Jack, “you’re just saying that because it’s true.”

“Of course I am, Kent. It is true.”

“Any time you get bored of watching the Falcs, all you have to do is call me, Bits. I’ll have you on a plane in a hot minute,” and Bitty has to look over at him for that because it might have been a chirp at Jack, but the tone was a lil’ too serious for his taste.

“Who knows, Mister Parson, I might take you up on that someday.”

(When hell freezes over.)

“I hope so, Bits,” Kent’s eyes go to the masterpieces on the counter waiting for their turn in the oven, “I really hope so.”

*

At the game later that night, before the Aces take the ice, Bitty gets a Snap from Kent Parson. 

All the pie pans are licked clean. Not a crumb in sight.

Bitty sighs in unmitigated relief.

Even though he feels strange not wearing a Falconers or Samwell jersey when he’s at a hockey game, he can’t blame Jack for leaving their home team merchandise back in Providence. 

Earlier, Kent had tugged an Ace's jersey over his head and landed a cap as the cherry on top, winking at him while Jack was busy grumbling to himself about something or other. 

It feels odd to have someone’s name across his back other than his own (or frankly Zimmermann because Jack already gave him two hoodies and several other Falcs shirts, which was real kind of him, and they’re such nice clothes!), but his Mama would fly up from Georgia and whoop his butt good if she knew he’d refused a gift from a celebrity. 

So, even with Jack scowling, he accepts the jersey and hat for the game tonight.

He and Jack find their seats, right behind the bench, and it looks like they can finally settle in.

Jack keeps a running monologue of stats and predictions, leaning in to Bitty while eating the carrot sticks they'd packed in so Jack wouldn't be tempted with junk food.

This boy and his rigid schedule of cheat days. Honestly.

And Bitty is content to talk hockey and the upcoming season, is content to talk about the Samwell team and the next game coming up. 

He gets to watch Kent and the Aces make an opening lap around the rink to wave at their fans, laughs at the finger guns right in their direction.  

He settles on in to watch what will probably be a good game no matter what Kent said earlier, and of course, Jack chooses then to bring it up.

"Are you going to tell me about the Rebels anytime soon?” Jack is watching the game when he finally says it, something in his tone of voice that sounds a little closer to mad.

Bitty looks over, guilty as sin, and Jack looks back, all kind of calm.

“I...I didn’t make a decision or anything–” he starts then turns away from those blue eyes. “I-I should go get us something to drink! Jack, what do you want to–”

He’s halfway out of his chair, but Jack’s hand on his wrist stops him, pulls him back down to his seat.

“Don’t be mad!” Bitty sighs, loud and long, “I didn’t even know what to do when Mr. McLean came to see me.”

Jack hums, “You could have called your best friend who happens to be a professional hockey player.”

“That will be enough chirps outta you, Mister Zimmermann. You were already having a time with the changes to your medication, and I didn’t want to add anything else to your list.”

Jack guffaws at him, “that was two months ago, Bits, and my anxiety is under control. You could have told me anytime since then.”

“Well, I–” and Bitty has a moment where his mouth almost runs right away with him, and he almost tells Jack they ain’t datin’ so not everything has to be out in the open.

“You?”

And even though Kent has the puck, Jack’s eyes are all for Bitty.

“Jack,” he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right bud?” And that line between his eyebrows lets Bitty know Jack is actually concerned.

“Of course, Jack, I...I just. I don’t know, you’ve got your own career to worry about, and I don’t even know if I still want to play hockey after graduation, nonetheless with a team in the AHL.” He shrugs lamely, pretty sure Jack probably thinks he’s an idiot.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Bits. You don’t have to make a decision right away.”

“Well, I’ve got about five days until he wants to know if I accept their offer,” Bitty rubs the back of his neck, cheeks pink. 

“Oh. Well, you should let me read the contract anyway, eh? At the very least, it could help you make a decision if the offer isn’t for much.”

“If– I mean, if you want to? That would be real nice.”

“Euh. Tomorrow morning after my run, we’ll look at it.” Jack gives a sharp nod like he’s accomplished something, pats Bitty on the shoulder, and goes back to the game, just as pleased as pie.

**

The win was really something for the Aces, and he gets to meet Swoops, Poots, Scrappy, and Gopher when Kent tells them the baker of the pies is at the game.

“Oh my God, I ate like three pieces,” Swoops pats him on the shoulder and laughs.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

“Oh totally. Gopher can’t help himself around sweets, so you might get a marriage proposal if you aren’t careful.”

“O-oh my! That’s mighty sweet, but I would hate to have to break his poor heart.” Bitty laughs a little and doesn’t notice how Jack’s eyes narrow. 

It’s entertaining as all get out when Jack groans at the amount of chirps he’s already gotten for being a Falc instead of an Ace.

“He’s got important...things in Rhode Island,” Kent had finally said to his team, which Bitty did not understand at all.

(But, it does make sense. Jack wants to stay close to Shitty and everyone from Samwell. He couldn’t be part of their nearly everyday lives if he had joined the Aces.)

They drop by Kent’s house to change clothes, and head out to celebrate the victory with the team, and all that fluttering around his room at the Haus is suddenly worth it when he looks damn good in his button-up with a black tank top underneath and a pair of shorts that look like they’ve been painted on his ass.

When he comes downstairs, Kent wolf whistles and Jack gets red in the face.

“Are you sure–” Jack starts, a little stuttery that makes Bitty preen.

“Mister Zimmermann, it’s best you do not finish that sentence,” Bitty snipes with his nose in the air.

It’s absolutely satisfying when two very cute boys dance with him at the club, grinding on him and having a heck of a good time.

He doesn’t notice Jack’s sour face until the third or fourth song in, and by then, Kent is making his way through the crowd. 

The hand on his arm pulls him out from between two different boys, and Bitty is just about to give whoever it is what for, but Kent just shifts to grip his hips and pulls him in, back-to-chest. 

And Lord help him, Kent is an amazing dancer. How does he even get himself into these things?

** 

Watching his favorite person, favorite people, dance is giving Jack too many Ideas.

He already has plenty when it comes to Bits. Even more when it comes to Kenny since they have history to fall back on, but for Kenny and Bits? His brain might shut down because Jack is even more invested in that. 

(Kenny hasn’t said anything, but Jack knows him, knows what the look in those eyes means when he watches Bitty. Instead of Kenny trying to talk him into asking Bitty for a date, maybe Jack should be trying to do the same. Or-or talking about if all three of them…?)

As is, Jack has a lot more thinking to do after this trip.

“I swear I take care of him as much as he lets me,” Jeff is saying, “it’s not like it’s his first year anymore. He’s way past all that, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack downs his beer, tries not to be too irritated at Swoops because of the attitude. Since he and Kenny have been talking again, he knows more about that first year with the Aces and Kenny’s struggles after the Draft than he’d wanted to know at the time. He hadn’t wanted to focus on the difficulties his best friend was having with a new career as a professional athlete, was more concerned about getting himself through rehab. 

He’s been finding out about those struggles and bad times, feels better knowing about all the things he’d missed out on back then because that means Kenny is talking to him again.

(“You cut me out!” Still haunts Jack sometimes when he thinks about how he did that to his best friend, his other half. At the time, it had seemed like a trade he didn’t have any other choice but to make, give up his best friend for the chance to get better.)

Jeff was the Ace Kenny billeted with his first year, and the two are close. Maybe even closer than Jack and Kenny had been in the Q. 

He doesn’t deserve to be jealous of that, but somehow, he still is.

“I did him wrong when he was in the Draft,” Jack finally admits to Swoops, “and I’m glad he had you and the team there when he needed you. I just...I just want to make sure he’s okay. Kenny means a lot to me.”

Swoops raises a brow over the beer he’s drinking. “He was pretty torn up over you that first year, Zimmermann. If I could have, I would have found you and punched you right in the nose for that kid.”

Jack shrugs a shoulder, “would have deserved it.”

“Yeah, yeah you would have,” but it seems like the salt has gone out of Jeff’s spine, and he slumps down in his seat across from Jack. “I had to tell the team not to mention your name for a long time. Not gonna lie, when you got picked for the Falcs, I drove over to his place and stayed the night in case he had a breakdown.”

And oh does that hit Jack right in the heart. 

“But, he was...not okay but okay? He was happy for you, is the point.”

Jack’s heart twists painfully at that, “Euh. He’s a better friend than I deserve.”

“You know, he told me about going to your college, right?”

Jack looks Swoops in the face, thinks he might get a little more clarity about that night of the Epikegster.

“Yeah, he did,” because Jeff can read the tell me more on Jack’s face, “and he beat himself up about it for months. Told me he ran off at the mouth because he was angry at you. Hell, you weren’t even happy to see him.”

At the time, no. No, he wasn’t. 

“It was...a shock. We both said some pretty harsh things, I think. But, we’ve come a long way since then.”

“I’d say so. He can say your name without looking like he’s going to start crying now at least.”

Kenny…

“I’m not going to do that again,” Jack feels like he needs Jeff to know this. “He’s stuck with me this time, eh?”

Swoops laughs and raises his glass for Jack to tap with his own, “here’s hoping, Zimmermann. Here’s hoping. But hey, at least he has someone to help pick-up the pieces.”

**

Kent manages to get them through the throng of people at the bar and get them bottles of water, bracketing Bitty in with his arms to keep people around from jostling them.

They’re both sweaty and panting after the last song, and Bitty doesn’t even know how he managed to survive pretty much humping a professional hockey player on the dance floor without embarrassing himself.

“That was so fun,” Kent leans down to talk in his ear since they’re so close to the music, “can we dance some more?”

“Of course we can, honey,” Bitty tilts so he’s talking in Kent’s ear, and it presses them closer together, “but do you need to check in with your team?”

The laugh is low against his neck and Bitty almost, almost shudders.

“My guys are big boys, Bits. They’ll be fine without me mother-henning them to death.”

“Well, all right then, handsome. You’d better get me on out on that dance floor before someone else does!”

And it’s another song or so before they get a slow one. Kent manages to maneuver them into a corner, and pulls Bits in for a slow dance.

“Lord, that was fun,” Bitty doesn’t think much of it, his hands around Kent’s neck. “I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in a while.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” and Kent gives him that big ole’ smile that makes his whole face light up, and Bitty can’t really blame just one bit for just how cute Kent is in that moment. “I’m glad you came with Jack, Bits.”

“Me too. I had reservations with how close we’re getting to playoffs, but I’m glad I could take the time.”

The hands on his hips squeeze once, and Kent’s face falls, his eyes darting away.

Bitty moves a hand from around his neck to his face and turns him right on back. “Hey, what is it? Should we go?”

“N-no, no. I was just–” and Kent looks back at him with a frown, leans in a little to talk quieter. “Do you still hate me? From when I came to your college?”

And oh. Oh my.

Well, looks like they’re going to have this talk, aren’t they?

“I mean, it’s okay if you do. I was...a dick, okay? I was a complete and total dick. Zimms and I talked about it some, so-so he gets why I said some of the things I said because I mean, he just–and-and I… There’s a lot is all I’m saying. It was awful, not-not all of it, but therapy kind of helps a little? Sometimes it helps I mean, dealing with it when I found him like that, and then later when Big Bob–”

Bitty gently puts a hand over Kent’s mouth to shush him on up. 

“Kent, honey,” he tries softly, misses how those eyes get wide above his hand, “I understand how someone can say mean things when feelings are hurt, and it seems like you and Jack have mended fences since then, right?”

Kent nods without dislodging his hand, but his eyes are shiny and just oh, that poor boy. Jack had talked to him about those days back in Quebec with Kent Parson as his right-hand man, Bitty knows Kent is the one that saved Jack’s life during that overdose. He knows how quiet and strained Jack’s voice gets when he talks about it, can only imagine how terrified Kent had been finding him, performing CPR, getting him to the hospital in Bad Bob Zimmermann’s car.

He can’t touch that painful past for either of them, wishes sometimes he can give that back when he hears how wistful Jack sounds, sees how Kent sometimes looks like he has regrets. No, Bitty can’t fix their past for them, give them back their innocent days, but he can help the people they are in the here and now, can’t he?

“Well, that’s good to hear. What’s really important is that you don’t do that again, all right? Don’t take your anger out on Jack even if he might deserve it sometimes, and don’t ever say those horrible things to him again. Okay?”

Kent blinks at him and his eyes go softly half-mast. He finally nods with Bitty’s hand still over his mouth.

“Good. Then, we’re all fine, right?”

Another nod and a squeeze to his hips.

“Wonderful. Now Mister Parson, we are going to finish this song and then go back to your boys to celebrate. Maybe if we’re lucky, they’ll play ‘Crazy in Love’ later because that is one of my favorites.” He takes his hand away and grins up at Kent while his heart beats harder at the soft smile looking down on him.

“Good plan, B. If they play it, you can only dance with me, okay?”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

Sure enough, the DJ plays ‘Crazy in Love’ and Bitty is pretty sure Kent’s the one that asked for it. That absolutely doesn’t mean he gives it any less ass shaking than it rightfully deserves.

**

He’s happy to see Jack laughing with Swoops and Poots when they finally tear themselves away from dancing, and Bitty absolutely refuses to drink whatever fruity thing Kent offers him because he’s not twenty-one quite yet, thank-you very much Mister Parson.

But the Aces are so nice when they leave, thanking Bitty again for his victory pies. He waves them off and doesn’t mind Jack’s hand at the small of his back when Kent guides them out.

(Later that night, he pretends he doesn’t hear Jack get up off the couch and walk down the hall to Kent’s room and softly close the door. But at that point, he’s not sure if he’s still a little jealous, or even who he’s really jealous of if he’s honest with himself.)

He eventually gets a few hours of sleep, and still wakes up god-awful early anyhow.

Since he’s been in this kitchen for three days already, he automatically puts on coffee and pulls out what he’s going to need to feed two big hockey players. 

He doesn’t even register Kent in the doorway watching him until the first cup of coffee is gone and the second is on the way there.

“Oh my Lord!” He fairly screams when he notices Kent watching.

“Sorry,” is totally unrepentant, the ass.

“You sure look it!” Bitty chirps back after his heart has climbed down out of his throat. “Goodness sakes, were you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Nah, you just look cute in my kitchen, all busy and stuff. I like it.”

And well, that just takes the words right out of his mouth, so he goes back to make sure the bacon doesn’t burn while the quiche cools.

“Bits?!”

Jack is flustered and drenched from the shower, skittering almost right on the ground. He’s only got a towel around his waist and his hair is all over the place.

Bitty can resolutely say it’s the best morning in the history of mornings because that towel is awful short and Jack’s legs are awful long.

“I’m sorry! He just surprised me, we’re fine!” Bitty flaps his hands to shoo Jack out of the doorway. “Go on now and finish your shower. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Jack wipes water out of his eyes from his dripping hair and looks down at him silently.

“I promise, Jack. Go on now. Shoo! Naked is for the bathroom and the locker room.”

The slow grin is really just the nail in the coffin because no man should be that beautiful, it’s really not fair to the gay population. 

A glance at Kent’s shit-eating grin and he has to silently amend that statement. No men should be this beautiful.

While Jack trucks back down the hall, Bitty grabs paper towels to sop up the water he’d trailed, giving them up to Kent when he gets a frown for trying to clean up.

He tisks to himself and pours Kent a cup of coffee, mixing in the right amounts of cream and sugar, hands it to him when he throws away the wet paper towels.

He puts the bacon on another paper towel to get some of the grease while Kent sits down with his coffee. 

“I had so much fun last night. I can’t thank-you enough for taking us.” As he puts the quiche in the middle of the table.

“I had fun, too, B. Most the guys won’t dance no matter what, and you are awesome.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, sugar pie.”

Kent laughs at him, but reaches out to grip Bitty’s wrist before he can go back to the stove, “but, just so I know...you really don’t hate me anymore, right? We’re friends now?”

Oh, this must be the I need to tell you as Jack’s friend that me and him are datin’ talk. Lord, help him get through this conversation.

“Now, Kent. I already told you last night as long as you don’t hurt Jack like that again and have significantly groveled, we’re all fine.”

“Yeah, I know, but I mean, you and me. We’re fine, too, right?”

“Why of course we are.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure.”

Bitty pats Kent’s hand with the free one, “and you already know you can talk to me about anything, right? If things like that are bothering you, you can talk them out with me before you go and say something like that again, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Bits.”

“You’re welcome, Kent.”

He retracts his hand with another pat and goes back for the bacon, waiting for the something else that might be on Mr. Parson’s mind.

“Bits?”

Mmhm. There is it. “Yes, Kent?”

“You...can call me Kenny, too...I mean, if you want.”

The bacon plate in hand, and Bitty turns to look at the pink cheeks on Kent Parson, the way he doesn’t meet Bitty’s surprised eye.

(Even with all his team and the press coverage, he’s only ever heard Jack call Kent ‘Kenny.’)

“All right then, Kenny,” and oh is he grinning, thinking about chirping him just for fun. “I think we’re just about ready for breakfast.”

Nothing else comes of it, and Bitty’s not sure if he’s relieved or not.

 **

Jack slowly, methodically reads through the scans of the Rebels contract he’s got back at Samwell. Kent reads over his shoulder, eyebrows squinty in concentration.

Lord, they look so cute like that. It’s really surprising no one else has picked up on the dating yet because these two are absolutely transparent.

“So–”

He gets twin wait a minute fingers. 

“Well fine then,” and he meanders in the kitchen to see if maybe he should make those peppermint cookies after all. 

A batch later and both boys come on in and sit at the table with the tablet between them.

Bitty absolutely puts the cookies in the middle and pours glasses of milk. Kent looks from the plate to him with wide eyes. 

Two seconds later, he’s already demolishing his third.

Boys.

“All right, you two. Give me the low-down.” Bitty waves a hand over his shoulder and starts washing up dishes.

Jack tells him how it seems to be a right fair offer for a rookie hockey player. The money could be better, but well, it ain’t too shabby. 

Bitty sighs because the money is utterly obscene. More than his scholarship to Samwell for all four years.

Kent has no problem finishing Jack’s thoughts when he trails off, longer in the profession than Jack. He gives more examples of what bad contracts would probably be and makes Bitty wonder if this isn’t his first time helping with these sorts of things.

Well, as Captain of the Aces, he probably has. Not to mention how he babies his rookies. 

“So,” Bitty finally bites on his lip, looking down at the tablet, “so if...if I wanted to keep playing hockey after graduation. This is a good opportunity, is what you’re tellin’ me.”

Both Jack and Kent nod at him, serious as a heart attack.

“This is a good opportunity, Bits.”

“But,” Kent looks at him seriously, “we aren’t agents, either. This is from our experience. For a professional opinion, I can suggest some guys, so can Jack, that can haggle the contract for you.”

He stands at the sink with soapy hands braced on the edges, just looking out the window into Kent’s nice backyard. 

Kit is lounging on a dishtowel right there on the ledge to get some sun.

And just like his worst tendency, Jack stands up with a cookie and saunters over to stand beside him, back against the counter.

“It’s a lot to take in, bud,” is all growly and soft.

“I never imagined playing hockey after this year,” he admits, “buying a bakery, sure. Learning under other chefs, maybe taking a turn in another culinary art, yes. But, professional hockey? Hell, I couldn’t take a check without passin’ out a few years ago, Jack.”

Jack munches on his cookie, watching Bitty’s profile with soft eyes. “True. But, couple years ago, you wouldn’t have thought you’d end up Captain, and be on your way to the Frozen Four, eh?”

Kent shuffles his feet a little but boosts himself up on the counter beside Jack. “The AHL is like, our version of boot camp, you know? The kiddie pool before you hit the NHL. And there’s a four-season standard for that reason, B. You’ve got four seasons to play your best game and see if the Scouts are interested. I mean, a lot of guys that get a bad break and don’t make it, they can renew their contracts every four years or join the practice teams. Guys that still want to play hockey, like a lot of the guys on the Rebs.”

“That offer is for one season, though.” 

“Sure,” Jack fills in, meandering back for another, handing one off to Kent. “It’s a chance to get your feet wet, Bits, see if you can make the first year. I didn’t get a four-year from the Falcs until I got through the probationary period.”

“Lucky they didn’t make you billet, Jack. That’s usually a requirement.”

“Nah, I was old enough. Marty and Tater kept up with me, though. And I had Bits,” Jack shrugs and promises himself this is the last one even as he eyes the full plate.

He glances over at the serious expression on Bitty’s face, thoughts turning behind his eyes because now he’s thinking about it. On one hand, yes, he wants his bud to stay close, be on their sister team’s roster. Pawtucket is only twenty minutes or so from Providence, even closer than Samwell. 

(Jack wouldn’t have to lose him if Bits accepts the offer, keeps playing hockey. Jack thinks he’s terrible for wanting that as much as he does.)

For Bitty, the eminent future is looking closer and closer as this year draws to a close. Getting this offer was terrifying because of all those what if’s?

Kent hums around a mouthful, leans around Jack to look at him. “Sure, but you never know, B. You take Samwell to the ECAC, and there might be more people coming to talk to you.”

“Sugar pie, I’ve seen what you and Jack are up against. If there’s one thing I’m absolutely sure of, it’s that I’m not ready for the NHL, no matter how far we go this year. But–” he sighs a little.

“But what, bud?” 

“...the real question is, what if I’m not ready to give it up once the season’s over?”

Kent chuckles at him around the last bite, “then you’ll have a year with the Rebels to figure out if you’re done with hockey, or not.”

He catches his breath a little (could it really be as simple as that?).

“...that’s what I needed to know, thank-you boys.” He pats Kent on the leg and Jack on the arm, taking up the tablet, swinging right around to go back to the stove and wait for the next batch, hip hitched on the cabinets while he reads all over again.

He’s going to call Coach and Mama when he gets back to Samwell. Then on Monday morning, he’s going to call Mr. McLean and accept the offer.

 ** 

It’s not his fault most the people he’s friends with are so much taller than him. 

Really, it’s not. 

So when Kent just grabs him up before he and Jack get on the plane and hugs him tight for long minutes, Bitty’s feet dangle off the ground, but he’s pretty much used to it by now. Shitty broke him of it first, Holster helped.

“I’m going to miss you,” is said against his shoulder because he thinks Kent might just be tearing up.

Because of Jack.

Because Jack’s leaving.

Right?

With his feet still dangling, he pats the back of Kent’s head soothingly. “I’ll miss you too, honey. But, it’s not forever, right? We’ll see you again.”

Kent eventually put him down when Jack laid a hand to his shoulder and turned him in for a hug, and Bitty looks away when Kent wraps himself around Jack like an octopus, shoulders shaking just a little. 

Jack makes soothing circles on Kent’s back, talks softly in French, and just holds on for a few long minutes. Bitty makes himself busy by checking their luggage tags and slips away to get them some coffee from one of the twelve Starbucks in the airport.

A caramel frappuccino helps a little, and Kent just sweeps him on up again.

Jack keeps a hand on the back of Kent’s neck until the very last second, and something in Bitty’s chest tightens a little, but for the very first time, he’s not sure if it’s for Jack touching Kent like that or if it’s for Kent being all upset they’re leaving.

Something to think about another day.

As is, he’s got a thesis to write, a team to take care of, and a pair of professional hockey players that need fresh baked goods. His plate is pretty much full.

** 4

His vlog has always been somewhere to vent when he needed to, and even if he doesn’t have a huge following with millions of subscribers (yet), he didn’t think things would turn out this way.

But, the school newspaper he usually ignores puts it right out there for everyone to read.

Eric Bittle of Samwell’s Own Hockey Team is the First Out Captain in the NCAA

Dex is there to put a hand on his shoulder when he feels like he suddenly can’t breathe.

Someone watched his vlog and picked up on a few things apparently (“Never fall for a straight boy.” Those words are going to haunt him forever). 

He’s out to the team, but not the rest of campus. Good Lord. Hopefully no one pays it any mind, and they can just ride right along to the next game.

It does not go away.

Instead, the news catches fire, and before he knows it, his face is on ESPN as the first out NCAA captain. The rainbow background isn’t doing him any favors, but in between the panic in his brain, he thinks the yellow of the spectrum looks real nice with those shorts.

Chowder is the one that calls him in to look at the breaking story, looking over the couch to take note of Bitty’s face. 

He shows how much his reflexes have improved when he throws himself over the couch and latches on when Bitty’s knees fail and he almost sprawls himself all over the floor. 

His phone is in his hand, and Chowder is talking, saying something. He didn’t know when Ollie and Wicks, Dex and Nursey, Tango and Whiskey and Foxtrot, River, Hops, and Louis all got there crowded around him, but he just seems to blink and there they all are.

“I,” he starts loudly, immediately quieting everyone with a single word, “am going to make a pie. Everyone is welcome to hang out while I am doing so.”

So, he makes a pie and while he does, he makes a plan.

He talks out how this could affect the team’s chances of getting to the Championship, how this could affect how they play, how they plan to win the next few games. Bitty thinks it might be smart to step down as captain, being pragmatic as possible now that he’s not panicking about finishing the season and his senior year at Samwell. 

Whiskey, who he hadn’t been able to connect with all darn season (more n’ likely because he found Whiskey at that party kissing the Lax bro), smashes his fist on the table and says that’s a whole lotta bull. Bitty’s the one that got them this far, and he’ll take them the rest of the way.

(Bitty still has several talks in the next few days. With the coaching staff, with Samwell administration, with the entire gathered team. He gives all of them the same option. He’ll give up being captain or all out quit the team if this would hurt their changes to go to the Frozen Four. He gets the same denial, loud and belligerent from his whole team –which warms his heart, honestly. They’re all such good boys.)

They decide to handle it one game at a time, and break for the night. In his room with coppery fear still in the back of his mouth, he holds his phone and stares at the contact information for Home. 

He’s almost pressed it when a FaceTime request comes from Kent.

Almost at the same time Jack doesn’t bother to knock, but just throws his bedroom door open, looking like he’d run miles.

Throwing himself to his feet, both hands up, he probably looks terrified because Jack scared the absolute heck out of him. 

“Bits,” and now it’s Jack that’s got both hands up, coming at him, “Bits, it’s okay. It’s okay, bud.” And he really means to say something, but he’s just all caught up in Jack. He smells so good and feels so nice, he’s strong when Bitty feels weak and shaky, picking him right on up and sitting down to fold over him like a big Canadian blanket.

“What a horrible way to be outed,” he laughs through the shakes, but his voice is hoarse. “This is absolutely awful, Jack.”

“God, it really is. I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Bits.”

“Lord, I’m making a fool of myself. What’s done is done, I suppose.”

“Still, I want to be here for you.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate it.”

And he just lets himself sink into Jack a little, burying his face in Jack’s neck, just tries to breathe.

His phone goes off again, and this time Jack picks it up, sees who it is, and taps the top of Bitty’s head with it.

He thumbs the request without looking, just keeping his face right where it is. This is the best he’s felt since that awful ticker tape just laid out his biggest secret, and put a big ole’ target right on his back.

“Hi Kenny,” and he’s proud his voice sounds as steady as it does.

“Hey B,” is so soft and concerned, his heart gives a little patter. 

Jack holds the phone for him with one hand, and squeezes him tight with the other. 

“This sucks so hard, B. I’m so sorry ESPN gives a fuck about college sports enough to do something shitty like this.”

He raises his face just enough for Kent to see half his face out of Jack’s bulk. “One of those silly human interest stories, I guess. Too bad they got a little too interested, huh?”

“You can totally sue the shit out of them, okay? B, I know a guy. He could get you millions.”

“That won’t make everything right, Kenny, but thank-you for being here with me.” He gives a shuddering sigh, “I’m still going to have to deal with the backlash, and as much as I hate it, so will the team. I haven’t talked to the administration or the coaches, but it might be smart if I step down for the rest of the season, maybe quit outright. Then the boys might still be able to make it to the Frozen Four…”

“You’re two games away, B. You can’t give up now!”

“Agree. You got them here, they’ll have your back, Bits.”

“Kenny, Jack this is hockey. Everyone we go against from here on out is going to be gunning for us. The things they’re going to say to the boys–”

“They’ll handle it. Trust me,” Jack soothes, “they won’t let you give up either.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll see come Monday,” he’s tired, but there’s no slowing down right now, even if Kent is petting Kit and Jack’s lap is absurdly comfortable.

“Besides,” Kent continues, “you’re not alone, B. Plenty of us in the NHL. We’re just not like, out out. Maybe to our teams and stuff, not like, outed on ESPN or anything, fuck those guys. You seriously don’t want me to contact my guy for you? He got 6.8 million dollars for a celebrity case–”

“So you’re out to your team then, Captain Parson?” He blinks because the way Kent just came out with it, not a stutter one, shakes him.

“Huh? Well, yeah, of course I am. I’ve been on the Aces for years, Bits. These guys are like my family, so yeah, they know.”

“O-oh.”

Kent blinks at him, pauses. “Ah, I didn’t come right out and tell you, but yeah. Me too, so it’s okay, B. You’re not alone.”

It’s that moment when Jack leans down, shifting so Bitty’s looking up at him. “You’re not alone,” Jack repeats softly, “I kiss boys sometimes, too. None of that changes how good you are at hockey, and none of that changes you, okay Bits?”

And Lord above help him. He throws both arms around Jack, biting his lower lip between his teeth, and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.

“Jack...Kenny…thank-you, boys. Just when I need you, and there you are.” He chokes a little, and there’s Jack folding down around him, there’s Kent holding Kit closer to the phone, sending virtual purrs and cuddles.

He doesn’t feel that bad wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist shamelessly, locking his ankles in the back, and just not facing the world for a while. 

It gets a little better when Jack tries to squeeze into a pair of his shorts while Kenny is brushing his teeth and talking about the camp they had at a local rink, running drills and plays with some of the high school kids from around the area. 

But everything in the world absolutely pauses when Jack clears his throat awkwardly

And really, God Bless Canada. 

The little sigh that comes out of him is echoed from his phone, and yes Kenny, they do have good taste.

“I can’t sleep in these, Bits, ah, sorry.”

But that color blue stretched taunt against Jack’s big thigh is just the best sight he’s probably ever seen.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got to offer. I can go talk to Dex?” Because Chowder has wider shoulders like Jack, but is about a foot shorter.

“Eh, not necessary.”

And well, yes. Bitty knows Jack wears cute little briefs. They were on a team together, have spent time in the locker room, have seen the occasional moment before towels go on. It’s men’s sports for crying out loud. 

But none of that, absolutely none of that, prepares him for Jack shimmying out of those shorts for black briefs that absolutely mold to his behind and cup the front of him. The real coup de gras is that t-shirt coming off, and heaven help him, it’s muscles for miles. 

Only those little briefs between Bitty and what the Good Lord gave Jack, the definition of fine walking across the room like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

Bitty unabashedly watches, lips parted, cheeks a soft shade of pink. 

Jack closes the bathroom door, smirking where Bits can’t see, muffled noises as he roots around in the bathroom for a spare toothbrush. It gives Bitty can just take a second to himself to take in this whole situation. 

He’s been outed on a national sports network that may or may not take the question of the Rebels right out of the equation

Chances of going all the way to the finals is looking slimmer and slimmer the more he thinks about it

Jack and Kenny confirmed some of his suspicions and it’s an absolute crime and a blessing that they’ve found each other again

Jack has gotten bulkier than Bitty realized in the last year and a half playing for the NHL and his ass should be marked as a dangerous weapon

He hasn’t answered any of the phone calls from home

Still, Coach sent him a text, Call your mother. She’s worried about you.

 And top of the list, Jack Zimmermann is in his bathroom, shirtless, barefoot, after just having verbally come out to him.

If there was ever anyone that deserves to be up for Sainthood, it’s this good ole’ Georgia boy Right. Here. 

With his head in his hands, he groans softly, and scurries to throw on his own sleep clothes, stripping down without a thought more than those short on Jack and those shorts off Jack.

“I absolutely feel you,” a breathy chirp, and he forgot Kenny probably saw the entire thing.

Bitty spins, almost ready to start getting on a boat down that river called denial when he realizes Kenny is giving him the most devilish looking smile.

“It’s really unfair that he’s a hockey God and blisteringly hot to boot.”

“We are the best of friends, I’ll have you know Mister Parson. Jack doesn’t even see me that way, even after tonight. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye set on someone prettier than little ole’ me.”

He throws the covers back to busy his hands, but can spare a second to put some charm into it and look back at Kenny with a wink. 

It’s either the best or the worst timing because Kenny gets this look on his face, opening his mouth for something that might have been good or bad, when Jack comes out of the bathroom smelling like mint and looking like a touch could burn you down to the ground.

Kenny looks at him for a few long seconds while they’re climbing into bed, and chirps them about hands above the comforter and hockey bros cuddle like champs before he yawns and finally hangs up for the night.

The sheet gets maneuvered between them so he’s not going to be tortured most of the night with only his sleep shirt and pants between them–

(and those sinful underwear, he’s never going to forget those)

–so it’s suspiciously easy to drop off with Jack’s arm around him and snoring in his ear.

**

The next two games are utterly brutal. 

Ice bags are wrapped around his shoulder while he sits in his spot in the locker room, forearms on his knees to just hurt while Chowder is talking at his right and Dex at his left.

The bruises tomorrow are going to be beautiful, but heck, what’s some bruises when Samwell is officially in the Frozen Four.

Lord, they made it.

And he will start celebrating, right after he can raise up his arm again.

Oh, that’s going to be sore tomorrow. Making pies for the campus captain club is going to be awful, isn’t it?

He manages to get the ice bags off in time to walk with the boys back to the Haus, Ollie already scooping up his bag and Chowder, bless his heart, hovering anxiously right by him the whole walk there.

They don’t make him do a keg stand this time, thank goodness, but the party celebrating their win is well underway in less than an hour.

It’s real nice when the Lax bros bring in a stack of pizzas and slap him on the back in congratulations, like he hadn’t just been outed on national television. (He loves Samwell so much.) Chad L. says a whole bunch of something that Bitty tries to follow and ends up handing him a plate with pizza and accepting a piece of pie in exchange. 

The fire extinguisher is in plain sight to remind the footballers what could happen if they don’t behave, and at least two of his boys hang around him most the night, bracketing him on both sides to keep an eye on him. Ollie and Wicks pop around the corner periodically anyhow.

He catches Chowder taking a picture for social media, has a second of panic, almost tells his sweet son not to do that because everyone knows, but shuts his mouth last minute and straightens up to grin for the next one.

**

The night the news came out, Bitty changed his social media to private, hoping to avoid some of the homophobic comments. Since the morning after (and it’s a crying shame he missed seeing those little black briefs again since Jack was already dressed by the time he got up), he’s been talking to pretty much everyone.

Most of all, his Mama and Coach...and Mr. McLean.

Jack squeezes his hand, and Bitty bites his lip, but still, “I’m afraid I don’t think I should accept your offer after all. This isn’t going to blow over any time soon.”

“Mr. Bittle. I’m interested because you’re fast, you’ve got soft hand, and you’re a good fit for the Rebels. As far as I understand, this isn’t going to change any of that.”

“O-oh!”

“If you want to play hockey, Mr. Bittle, you can do that with us.”

And it’s there when he looks in Jack’s blue, blue eyes, when he thinks about Ollie and Wicks, when he thinks about Shitty being so kind when he’d come out to the first person on the team. It’s there when he thinks about being terrified at that first check practice, when he thinks about how dang far he’s come in four years.

(It’s tough, but you’re tougher.)

“I want to play hockey, Mr. McLean.”

“That’s the spirit Mr. Bittle. I’ll send you training camp information in the next week or so. Welcome to the Pawtucket Rebels.”

If Jack holds him tight while he almost shakes apart once he hangs up the phone, well, only Chowder and Dex will ever tell a soul because they fell on him and Jack like a ton of bricks, hugging him and laughing.

**

Shitty, Ranson, Holster, and Lardo make the trip from Boston to show up on the Haus doorstep before they’ve even finished clean-up from the party the night before.

Before he knows it, he’s got Shitty crying all over him, telling him he’s so proud and Bitty’s just the best little captain there ever was.

It’s so nice because Shitty is silly as hell, but he’s an amazing friend in times of need. 

And he can’t say it isn’t nice when Shitty picks up the loud speaker and starts shooing the rest of the hanger-oners out.

“Frozen Four!” Ransom crows, “our guys are going to kick some ass.”

“You said it, bro,” Holster warmly pats Bitty on the shoulder with one of those big hands while this pie is just coming along easily enough.

The flinch when the bruises ache is enough for more ice bags to get wrapped around him, and Shitty to shake a finger in his face, talking about taking care of himself. It might not be a concussion, but they’ve got serious games coming up, and he needs to be tip top if he’s going to take them all the way.

Bitty takes it to heart and lets them baby him for a few hours.

It does get worse when Dex and Chowder see Holster pulling the neck of his shirt up a little to check how bad it is, and then he’s got more hockey players in his kitchen butting in. Luckily, Dex is getting just as good at making pie as Bitty, and finishes up the lattice work perfectly.

He talks strategy with Ransom and Holster at the kitchen table while Lardo makes another pot of coffee, and Chowder subtly slips the bottle of ibuprofen next to him. Whiskey listen to them strategize for the upcoming games, and my, don’t it feel so normal.

He hugs Shitty again, holds on just as tight as he can, and thanks the Good Lord for such amazing friends.

**

Mama and Coach are more understanding than he ever would have imagined, taken in account what a shock it is just to come across the television like that.

“Dickey, honey, now you know,” and she has to pause because Lord, his Mama is crying, “you know you can always come home. Always. No matter what. We love you. We love you and everything else, we can figure all that out.”

And so, since he’s never said it, only thought about what could happen, he tells her, “Mama… I’m gay.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know and that’s-that’s fine. We can figure it all out. But, you can come home sometime before the semester ends, can’t you?”

“N-not while we’re close to the Championships, Mama. I-I can’t–”

“Junior.” 

And now he’s glad he just called instead of trying to FaceTime. So glad he doesn’t have to look Coach in the face right now.

“You’ve done a heck of a job this year. Been a good captain. You know me and your mama are proud, don’t you Junior?”

And there goes his lip all trembling, his eyes getting hot. Only Jack squeezing his hand keeps him together at all.

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. You just keep fighting. We’ll be here cheering you on, all right?”

His breath hitches in his chest, “yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy. You can do it, Junior. They’re tough–”

“–but I’m tougher,” and he’s covering his eyes, shoulder hunching down. Jack goes from holding his hand to pretty much lifting him up enough to slide on Jack’s lap.

“That’s right, son. You sure as hell are.”

He sighs out, a soft noise. “I am, Daddy. We made the Frozen Four.”

“Go get ‘im. Me and your Mama are behind you all the way.”

And even if Coach gets squicky when it’s time for I love you, Bitty manages to get it out anyhow.

“Love you too, son. Now you gotta stop, or else your mama’s gonna drown me.”

The thick laugh is so much better than crying. Jack thinks so too apparently, squeezing tight while Bitty’s sitting on his thighs.

If he thinks there’s a kiss pressed to the top of his head, well, he’s just going to blame it on being emotionally overwrought and leave it at that.

**

He didn’t bother with pads, just pants, sweatshirt, gloves, stick, helmet, and skates. The ice is quiet as can be in the morning light bouncing off Faber, making it beautiful.

Kenny’s far enough ahead of them that he’s on a break from practice, already home making brunch. “Big Red is going to be killer, B. Cornell is ruthless. Fighting Hawks from North Dakota.”

His skates cut through the ice until he’s gliding, hitting the long stretch, pumping as fast as his legs can take him, cycling the puck. 

He doesn’t reply to Kenny, just listens while his muscles burn, his mind works, he sees the next move like a playbook. 

Over the past four years, he’s gotten stronger, faster. Sure, he’s smaller than the average hockey player, but that don’t mean weak. Everyone they’ve played already figured that one out now didn’t they?

His arms and shoulders burn when he swings high, throws some muscle in it when he slaps the puck right in the sweet spot of the net.

“No fair, B. I want to watch!”

“I’d have to set my phone in the stands, sugar pie.”

“If that means I get to watch you do suicides, I’m on board.”

Bitty laughs out loud because Lord, he sounds like Jack. 

“Trying to kill me before practice?”

“Captain’s prerogative, babe.”

Obligingly, Bitty sets up his helmet, laying on it’s side, throws a t-shirt in it to hold the phone up, and FaceTimes Kenny.

He gives the captain of the Aces a wink and then takes off to the blue line. He’s got his game face on, stick balanced perfectly, moving like his ass is on fire.

After a good turn out, he skates back to the stands where Kenny is very close to the screen. 

“Well, there you go, Captain,” he snickers, scooping up the whole thing so Kent goes around the rink for some easy, cool-down laps with him before the boys start meandering in for practice. “That what you wanted to see?”

“You? Are fast, B. That was incredible.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” he grins down at Kent’s face in his helmet, “you say the nicest things.”

“Hey, I’m not being nice, Bits. I’m saying as a professional hockey player that you? Are fast.”

“Well, so are you. Short guys like us have a tendency to out-maneuver the big guys.”

“I’ve based most of my career on being the fast guy on the team, B, but I don’t know how I’d hold up against you.”

“Mmhm. I also haven’t been playing professionally for the last few years, tearing the fire out of my knee, Kent.” Very serious because he’s counted how many nights he’s seen ice bags over that knee in the last few weeks.

“Also true. It might be surgery for me this summer, but that should do a lot. I’ll have maybe ten years instead of five.”

“So you said. Your doctor is talking about it again?”

“...yeah. He says it should do wonders for where I’m at right now, and this might be the year to just do it and get it over with.”

“Three-time Stanley Cup winner is where you’re at right now, sugar pie.”

The laugh is nice, but now he’s wondering if he can convince Kenny to come to Providence and stay with Jack during his recovery. That’ll let Bitty be close enough to come over and take care of him while his knee heals. He’s already thinking it over when his third lap is coming up.

“B.” Startles him right out of his thoughts.

“Kenny?”

And something is there in the way Kenny is looking at him from the screen. “Be careful at the game tonight. Watch out for the Minnesota D-Men, okay?”

“Thank-you, sugar. You watch on out for those Rangers.”

“I will. Just send me a text when the game is over, even if I’m in overtime, okay?”

“You know it, honey. Now go on and get a nap. We’ve both got a busy night tonight.”

**

This could be the last time he steps out on the ice. This could be it. All of it could end right here right now. 

They’ve got to play their hearts out. He’s got to give it everything he’s got. For himself, for the boys, for Samwell. 

It comes down to this, facing Minnesota’s line like there ain’t no going back.

**

He sits on his bed, faggot and fairy in his head from the game earlier. He doesn’t accept Jack’s call because his face is a mess.  

Well, serves him right because Jack just shows up at the Haus an hour later when Bitty has finally got it together.

**

The check is absolutely brutal. 

He used to be floored by it, curled up in a little ball on the ice, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely breathe. 

But not this damn time. Oh hell no. 

It’s fast when he’s back up on his feet, shoving his way through bigger men than him and stealing that puck right on out from under them. 

He feels like he’s got wings on his feet when he glides by them like they’re just standing still. 

**

Mama and Coach are here because they’ve come down to the last stand. 

This is it.

Jack and Kenny are both there and where in the world they got #15 Bittle jerseys, he will never know.

Number #82 has already been gunning for him, but the last one is the very last of Eric Bittle’s patience running right on out.

His heart is racing, his legs burning, skates cutting ice as he steers around players, gritting his teeth against the ache, and for the first time, he’s gonna stand up, holler out that no, he’s not gonna take that nonsense lying down.

The moment slows down for long enough that he feels weightless when he pushes off, is airborn, shoving all his weight right into #82 just as they’re at the Samwell bench and shove the both of them right in with the boys.

It’s a tangle of arms and legs and skates and sputtering. 

“Try me again, asshole,” Bitty sneers in #82’s face with the face guards the only thing between them. 

“Homophobic prick!” One of his boys shouts.

Coach and the boys pick him up (shocked because he doesn’t usually have a need for potty mouth thank-you very much), want him to go get checked out while the ref blows the whistle just after Whiskey gets the puck, and now it’s all on Samwell.

He doesn’t get a penalty, thank goodness, and argues loudly with Coach to let him back in the game, he needs to get back. It’s not like he lost a tooth, just some scratches from going over. It’s a long look in his eyes before Coach just throws up his hands and shoos him back. 

And Bitty’s not thinking about Jack and Kenny and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster and Mama and Daddy and everyone else up in those stands screaming for them when he hits the ice again. He’s not thinking about how badly he hurts or the scratches on his face. He’s not thinking about his thesis or graduation or his spot in Jack’s guest room. 

He’s only thinking about the tied score, the next play, and how they’re going to show these away boys exactly who’s house this is.

**

And his arms strain when his stick comes back, when he slams that puck with every ounce of strength he has left. His heart thuds hard in the back of his mouth when their goalie’s hand shoots out, tries to catch the puck, just the tips of his gloves skimming the surface.

The alarm blares and the scoreboard changes so fast, Bitty’s not really sure what happened until his boys slam into him, gather all around him, screaming.

He’s dazed, fingers limply holding his stick, eyes still stuck on the scoreboard even when they lift him up, stick and all.

The crowd takes to the ice, and he gets his helmet off in time to get hugs from Mama and Coach, in time to accept the huge trophy, him and Coach and Dex holding it up with all the boys around them just a hooting and a hollering all over the place. 

Ransom and Holster catch him right up off his feet, crying all over him when they tell him how proud they are.

The interviews shake him out of the daze and he tells the viewers at home that the team fought hard for this and earned it all themselves. He’s proud to be their teammate and captain, he’s proud to be a Wellie, and darn it, their hard work paid off.

Just as he turns, sees Chowder going past with three of their guys behind him, singing the Samwell song at the top of their lungs, he catches Jack and Kenny standing on the ice by the boards, watching him with soft smiles on their faces, and his eyes get hot abruptly, get full as can be.

Center ice, just like with the Stanley Cup. And this ain’t that now. This? This one is all his.

He feels his lower lip tremble just a little, puts his hand up to stop it, but dang it if Jack and Kenny aren’t just easing across the ice toward him with those smiles and his name across the back of their shoulders.

He gets a hand on the back of his neck and a shoulder to hide his face while the whooping and celebrating gets loud, loud, loud.

Lord, he’s going to vlog the hell out of this tomorrow.

**

Shitty is naked. 

While it’s not new (they’ve been to Haus 2.0, and yes, Shitty was naked there too. Good times, really), Bitty has always had reservations about him being skin-to-fabric on that dang couch. Who knows what he might get. Well, all that spilled tub juice probably goes a long way to sanitize. Or so he says to keep his revolution to a minimum. 

Watching Kenny get his ass handed to him from Lardo is hilarious. Watching Jack give in and have a chugging competition is even better. 

He’s lucky the ECAC playoffs beat the NHL by almost a month. Jack and Kenny have another week before they start getting serious. 

Ransom and Holster are talking animatedly with the Waffles, back slaps all around. He’s pleased as can be when Shruti, Sharon, Edgar, Chad L., and some other captains drop by to say congratulations and have a piece of pie. He doesn’t see Jack pause over his shoulder while he talks up a storm, doesn’t see the considering look on Jack’s face.

Something about this Bitty hits him harder than the last four years, makes that perpetual tightness in his chest mean something completely different than anxiety.

He should have realized it long before his graduation, should have been terrified of it all happening again. 

Bitty affects him in so many of the same ways Kenny does, and it’s an amazing yet terrifying thing for Jack Zimmermann. Feeling like this person you’re looking at is literally made for you. 

And just as he starts taking a step forward, pushing himself in to stand at Bitty’s side like he’s done the majority of their friendship, Kenny ducks out of nowhere and takes him by both biceps. His expression is desperate.

“You’ve got to stop her. Zimms. Zimms, be on my team. Right now.”

It’s so absurd because it’s Kenny and also because he knows no one is beating Lardo. 

Ever.

Anything else is wishful thinking.

He casts a wistful look at Bitty, animated with his big win, and if Jack literally has his heart in his eyes until they’re out of sight, then only Chad L. from would have seen it.

**

Later on after the captains have said good night and some of their...guests have started staggering out, cheering for Samwell, for hockey, for tub juice, and for pie. 

For this one, Bits really couldn’t take credit because Dex really made most of them, bless his heart.

Moving around the party-goers with a spare trash bag to pick up a bit, he spots someone sneaking upstairs, pauses to squint up in case he needs to charge on up there and firmly remind people the upstairs is off limits. 

Or break out the fire extinguisher.

Either way.

...but he knows that ass in those jeans, and gasps softly as Jack’s plaid is bouncing up the steps ahead of Kenny. 

And, he can let out a sigh, catch just a little bit of bittersweet. But, if there is anything Eric Richard Bittle prides himself on, it’s being a good friend. If Jack and Kenny needed a-a wingman or whatever, then he’s just going to dang well be that.

He keeps an eye on the stairs for the rest of the night for more than one reason. No one, no one, is going to disturb them when they’ve finally come this far, and even if he silently dreads it, hopes they at least used his room instead of a bathroom for heaven’s sake.

[scattered--pages]

So I rewatched Frozer today, and holy hell, I’m not even sure how insanely Lukanette-strong this episode this, to the point that I don’t even know how aware of this even Astruc is? And I don’t only mean the romantic ice rink scene, I mean the episode as a whole serves as a huge sign that very strongly favors Lukanette and also Adrigami, and yes, I say this even considering the ending with Marinette running after Adrien and leaving Luka alone there at the ice rink entrance and even with her eyeing Kagami and Adrien a huge amount of time at the rink. Because it’s hers and Adrien’s words that actually count and explain some things a bit better, including some comments from Luka and Kagami.

This is gonna be a long and analytical ride, so get ready, my folks!  ♡ * cracks knuckles *

1. After being rejected by Ladybug yet again, Adrien decides to gave a chance to another girl he spends a lot of time with and kind of likes and decides that it’s time to finally stop suppressing those feelings. Because when Plagg suggests it’s better to move on to someone else, he doesn’t say anything along the lines of “But I don’t have feelings for Kagami” or “But I will always love only Ladybug”, etc., no, Adrien actually says “Why should it be different with Kagami? Maybe I just have the wrong technique?” - meaning, he actually is envisioning a relationship her and he does see her as someone he could or does care about in a romantic way, he’s just afraid that, since Ladybug’s rejections kind of bruised his self-confidence a bit, why would Kagami do anything other than eventually reject him as well? So he doesn’t, as in a few other occasions, explicitly state that he has no romantic feelings for this person (khm, khm, as he does when teased or asked about his feelings for, among other people, a certain someone else), he lets Plagg know that he has actually already considered this possibility and that he is not against it at all, but rather just fears the same ending as with Ladybug.

2. I think that it’s extremely important to take the first note in mind when viewing the scene where he confides to Marinette that he needs help with a girl. Because, it does sound rather applicable to both Marinette and Kagami when Adrien describes, very clearly in a loving fashion in which you wouldn’t describe your best buddy-bud pal, the girl he likes with dark silky hair, deep eyes, with whom he’s been just friends but “...lately things have been different.” And as similar as this all is to Marinette, his close friend for a LONGER time, and much longer at that, than Kagami, with similar features, etc., he does not decide to switch his focus/target on Mari. He doesn’t seem to even consider her as a person he could romantically care for (not counting Chat Blanc when he ‘suddenly’ became aware of random heaps of feelings for her that he’s supposedly had all along when in fact, he’s never shown or said anything about it and he only ‘realizes’ this when he realizes she’s the other half of his beloved Ladybug). He, very clearly, chooses Kagami as his new focus. Out of all of his female friends and people he’s known longer than Kagami, people with whom he’s shared some sweet moments with even, like with Marinette, he still chooses Kagami and this still isn’t enough for him this entire time to consider Marinette as the goal of his new target transition. As much as it would make arguably more sense to a lot of people, and as much as he clearly likes the type of girls like her, appearance-wise, he still doesn’t choose her.

3. There is something very important Marinette says during her talk with her friends. “I always jumble my words around him, so how could I even manage going out on a date? I think we’re actually meant to be friends, whenever I talk to him as a friend, I actually hardly stammer at all, that’s a sign right there, right?” And YES, this is actually a very mature thing for a character in a cartoon, rather than in a more ‘serious’ TV show to say because it’s actually a very mature way of explaining which types of emotions are actually healthier and better for a basis of a proper romantic relationship. And not being able to talk to this person hardly at all for more than a year and getting reactions akin to panic attacks when this person even touches or looks or says something in your direction is something that’s cute for a few days... Weeks, maybe. But the entire time? Oof. And I know that she, I’m guessing, gets rid of her awkwardness when starting to date him in Chat Blanc, at least I hope that’s what’s implied, but a foundation like this to a relationship is not necessarily a really good one... Not when her behavior towards him shows clear signs of obsession rather than love in an alarming amounts of moments, and when her reactions to him are mainly her being stressed out, insecure and panicked increasingly around him through time instead of decreasingly, for well over a year. Now, this is all perhaps too realistic for the judgement of a TV animated series, but Astruc & co. can be serious with certain topics when they want to and portraying this as such only to use it as a comic-reel type of a cutesy, dorky, pre-dating crushing or whatever just makes no sense and ends up looking at the very least weird and at the worst unhealthy for our girl.

Because she can only really be herself with Adrien, and not even that entirely, when they’re just being friends. When anything more is suggested, that’s all at least partially lost, which, once again, oof... With Luka, however, even though she gets those normal shy moments when he looks at her a certain way, makes her blush or compliments her, she feels comfortable enough to remain herself pretty much the entire. time. she’s. with. him. Which is trough several points in the show even more so encouraged by Luka. Luka who fell for Marinette, the klutzy, shy, adorkable and supposedly ‘less perfect’ half of Ladybug. He didn’t need to know she’s Ladybug to love her. He fell in love, actual romantic love with her strongly and quickly just because of *claps* who *claps* she *claps* is. Shyness and clumsiness and all. And he just generally seems to really care about her happiness and well being and is capable of better assessing her emotions than even her best friend.

Even at the ice rink, when she gets twisted up and nervous in front of Adrien and even subconsciously mean towards the fact that he’s here with Kagami (The entire flat out “you have to let her fall thing”, what was up with that?? I mean, she corrected herself but, whut?? That wasn’t like Marinette at all!), to which Adrien is a bit confused and perhaps slightly worried but Luka takes care of her and takes the control of the situation so easily, just to make her feel better. “Try to be natural. Go with the flow and listen to the rhythm.”, and then he softly adds, “Just follow my lead.” , and Marinette, even though slightly smitten, seems to at least feel better and instantly a bit more composed, which than turns to her being completely relaxed with him on the ice. And yet he’s just the second choice/rebound guy and she’s supposed to end up with the other, arguably more confusing and problematic choice (at least viewed from a realistic human perspective?) BIG oof. Not a good sign and not a good message for kids out there, tbh if this is how they portray love and soulmates and how they portray what seems to be nice and lovely, but actually won’t be the ‘truest’ love in the end (meaning, for the latter, they obviously are, ironically, using Luka and Kagami - the HEALTHIER choices)... 

4. Same goes for Adrien and his feelings for Ladybug and the comparison of his romantic dynamic with Ladybug and then with Kagami. Because his feelings for Ladybug only ever seem to get him down, he can’t even be happy for her that she has someone else she cares about, usually a big sign of just being ‘in love’ with a person or idolizing the person rather than ‘loving’ the person. Which, okay, this is a cartoon, and perhaps it shouldn’t matter, but unless the whole freakin’ thing is taken to the extreme and portrayed as one giant comedy crack cartoon and as long as some themes are adequately realistically addressed than this ends up as something that’s realistically understood as well and, once again, serves as a really bad example of what’s supposed to be the beginning of the ‘soulmate’ type of ‘true love’. While with Kagami, he just seems more... complete. More himself. When he comes in front of her slightly nervous, unsure of how to ask her for her hand, she’s ends up being the counter-balance to him (much like Luka with Mari) by calmly joking with him to make him feel more comfortable, tying his laces and taking him to the ice, so no further worries or stress necessary.

She’s like the yin to his yang, really, and her composure balances his more emotional, quirky, happy-go-lucky personality really wonderfully, even in moments when he needs an antithesis like this to help him because he’s feeling in doubt or down. And even now, he accepts her hand, smiles, and the situation just goes so well and nice for him because she, like several other times as well, was able to really perfectly compliment his personality with hers in a way that achieves both of them being happy, themselves and relaxed with each other. And Adrien sometimes does this for her, too, and I just think, much like Lukanette, that this is a really sweet and nice example of a proper young romantic relationship and it breaks my heart that, yet again, the better, more natural choice that makes the characters more happier is the secondary one that’s going to most likely end up with someone like Kagami and Luka be cast back into the friendzone and aside for Adrinette to... somehow? happen again.

5. Much like Adrien’s reaction to Kagami as someone new that he has feelings for, it was the same when Tikki questioned Marinette why she was upset. She didn’t say “Well, because Adrien only sees Kagami”, “Because it hurts me a bit to see them together”, etc., oddly enough, she doesn’t even address her feelings towards Adrien here, she immediately and only says, “I like Luka. He’s really nice, but... do you think he’s just like Adrien, just a friend?” By which she actually a) admits that she likes him, most likely as more than a friend due to the next part where she’s worriedly asking Tikki if, b) Luka is just like Adrien towards her, ‘just a friend’. Which is a huge thing and, once again, this could just be Astruc & co.’s way of messing with fans to stir up drama, but by now, this show, and these ships, have had way too many weird and not that healthy or the best examples of ‘romantic’ feelings and crushes for it to just constantly, 24/7 be a random array of stirring up the fans. I mean, knowing Astruc, it’s possible, but once again, if they’re repeatedly doing this with the love hexagon and the majority of these things, including the love square interactions shouldn’t be taken entirely seriously, that’s a bit of a silly thing to do in a show that, like I said, can be more decent and serious when it wants to, and it’s a really immature thing of a bunch of adult writers to do rather than dealing with actual character relationships and personality developments. I mean, I may sound harsh but, come on.

6. “There may be a certain chill now between us.” Once again, I just really don’t like the whole passive aggressive, jealous, pouty behavior that Chat displays in front of Ladybug to, supposedly, try to cause some reaction out of her in his favor and all while separating from her due to this when literal PARIS is at stake here atm. “We don’t always have to do everything together, you know! It’s not like we’re a couple!” That, especially in a situation like this is actually a very manipulative to do, because it seems that the other person deserves guilt-tripping and to feel bad simply for the fact that they are entitled to their own choices, that they simply don’t reciprocate your romantic feelings for them and that they want to be friends but just feel uncomfortable with you advancing with them so frequently even when knowing what the situation is. and while it’s okay and cute-ish for young crushes when it happens once or twice, this was far from being the only time he’s been like that with her and, for the who knows what time in this post: that ain’t love. That ain’t a good example. And that ain’t romantic or cute in the slightest. As someone who dated a guy who acted like that on a daily level, this is not something that should be romanticized or encouraged, but that’s just my opinion.

7. “You should go over and talk to him...” I know this goes without saying because a lot of people already really praise Luka for how selflessly and maturely he dealt with this, but I just have to add this because he is just. so. good to Marinette! And puts her emotions and needs in front of himself every time, even when it means she needs to potentially deal with some things in a way that might hurt him, he cares more about her and her getting her own happiness or at least closure rather than forcing his affections on her or insisting even on the smallest of things, like riding the subway together home. Nope, he cares, in a surprisingly mature and kind way, more about her in this moment, and in so many others, but I won’t elaborate in to too much details like I didn’t in some examples above either because this post is focused mainly around this episode.

And that, my dears, is the tea. Or at least my potentially overly-invested-in-this-show opinion.

DISCLAIMER: I mean no hate towards any character, I really love everyone from the love hexagon, I just really think some pairings within it are better for each other than others.

[jq37]

May we have a recap, please? :)

**spoilers for panic at the art show and home for the holidays**

OK people. I actually don’t have a ton of commentary on these two so I’m gonna try and keep it (relatively) short and sweet [Edit from Future Me: Failed Step 1].

Also, iirc, this is the week Dropout starts streaming new Fantasy High eps on Wednesdays which is very dope and I am very excited for. I probably won’t do full on recaps like I do for normal eps because, lbr, I don’t strictly have the time to be recapping these eps at all and it’s pure stubbornness that keeps me from making wiser time management decisions. But, rest assured, if I have an Opinion, you will hear it whether you want to or not. 

Anyway, on with the show. 

Last recap, I mentioned that this ep was giving me Aelwen house party vibes and now it reminds me of that ep in another way: Everyone rolled like TRASH almost the entire ep. It was so frustrating! They barely got any hits in until like halfway through the ep.

(Aw man, I just realized I’m gonna have to remember which spelling of Aelwen is correct again now that FH is coming back.)

I love how Murph is immediately like, “I need to make sure my wife doesn’t die during this fight avenging her fictional husband.”

Isabella also has Aelwen’s trick of poofing around the battlefield which is annoying as hell (ha) for the group.

Siobhan hilariously casts fear on Priya just to be spiteful. I thought she was doing it to help the evac process but no. It was a purely spiteful action. Bless. 

When Kug turns into an ape he, of course, turns into *the* NY ape, King Kong. 

“I roll a nat 20 on an epic shit.”

When Brennan was describing Kingston’s spectral New Yorker Guardians I was already thinking about that one part of Spiderman 2 (the OG Toby Mac version) and then he straight up said, “You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us,” and I lost it.

“Deny the stairs the pleasure of my feet.” Emily is a poet.

I want to know what makes a pigeon spicy more than anything. 

The fact that Brennan killed Ox AGAIN and then immediately looked into the camera and let the audience know the dog was fine because he clearly Oracle stared into the future between eps and saw the entire internet sharpening their pitchforks  was so funny. 

About midway through the ep, Pete tries and fails to send Isabella back to hell and Isabella starts monologing about her plans and connection with Robert Moses (she stole the list from Santa and is/was gonna marry Moses apparently). I wonder if Brennan was like, “These players are for sure gonna murder her without getting any useful info out of her unless she goes full Bond Villain right now.”

And, proving my point, Emily immediately does 56 points of damage, royally f-ing Isabella up. 

This is a really civilian heavy fight which feels weird in a way the FH fights never did. Like, these aren’t even civilians who live in an adventuring town in a fantasy world. These are just normal ass civilians in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Pete fails a wild magic roll after failing to teleport into the building and then gets a choice of getting really strong (which prob would have let him bust down the door) or to teleport in (which is what he does and exactly what he wanted). Very clutch when the dice rolls play into the story like that.

Kingston lightning bolts Isabella’s hair off which is just malicious but also totally called for.

On her next turn, Sophie gets hurt on purpose to get low enough to activate her ring, lets her hair burn for long enough to shorten it to a cute bob, insults Isabella, then knocks her tf out. 

I love that Emily took one of her teeth (a seemingly crazy move) and when called out by Lou was like, “It’s a link to Robert Moses” (a completely reasonable answer). That’s the Axford one-two punch.  

I didn’t mention it before but, Willie the golem is here, first immobile but then brought back by Misty. Post fight, he says he was somehow brought here by one of the evil factions of the city and says they’ll talk about it later. Also, Misty makes out with him (DON’T KINKSHAME HER).

With a high insight roll, Kingston is able to deduce that the group was ambushed (though not by Priya) and that their victory was a really important one for the fate of the city. 

(Sidenote: The amount that Pete is Over Priya in this ep is so funny.)

Back at Wally’s (which is where Kug is now staying) Wally has gotten Kug a dog bed to sleep in and fancy charcuterie cheese because he and Ricky are the only pure-hearted people in NYC. 

At the same time, Pete and Kingston have a very sweet heart to heart and then settle down at Kingston’s place to chill and listen to jazz. Idk how else we expected this to resolve, considering this is a Brennan Lee Mulligan DM’d show where the sacred pillars are Teamwork, Friendship, Communication, and Making up an NPC on the Fly Because One of Your PC’s Decided to do an Insane Thing. 

Next up is the Christmas ep and Brennan, Emily, and Zac are in sweaters for the occasion. 

Well,actually it’s the 21st and Emily immediately clocks that that’s the solstice. 

Are cookies the good carb?/Absolutely not. But have fun with your life. (I love Ricky’s soft jock energy.)

“I run deliveries,” Pete says to Kingston’s parents, not technically lying but also not being completely truthful. Misty would be proud. 

Going over to Misty, it seems pretty clear at this point (and it’s confirmed in the promo for next ep) that Misty’s fairy business is some kind of de-aging/reincarnation for herself. I wonder how many of these she’s done so far. She said she’s been around for, what? 200, 300 years? Assuming she’s been doing then reincarnations at about 65-70 years old and she reincarnates to around 25? Maybe 6 times? Idk. Just spitballing. 

Saucer of milk to keep the faeries from stealing her (non-existing) children. Faerie lore is wild y'all. 

Did you take another level of warlock?/Yeah bitch.

The fact that since Sophie has joined a monastery, she’s only taken Warlock levels and no Monk levels is very funny from a story perspective. It’s like, she finally comes to this sacred place to be trained to her full potential and she’s just spending what should be her sparring time playing with her cat in exchange for spells. Wild. 

Emily’s cat-like, self-satisfied grin when Brennan is like, “So you just jerry-rigged yourself clairvoyance powers, huh?” is so good. 

And she did it on the fly because Emily Axford is winning D&D. There are no points but she’s winning.

So, uh, Emily does, two things, very in character right after the other:

Thing number one: She send her unseen servant to spy on her family. Her dad seems hardline, “F, Dale. Whatever. Family first. She needs to get over it.” On the other side of the spectrum is her mom who is very upset about the whole affair with her siblings falling in the middle. 

The second thing she does, very casually I might add, is have her unseen servant BURN DOWN HER HOUSE SO SHE CAN COMMIT INSURANCE FRAUD.

EMILY

Everyone loses their minds and rightfully so. What a wild-ass swing that no one could have seen coming. I love it. 

“I look in my backpack which is now my home[…]" 

I almost forgot that Ricky was a fire fighter who would not abide that nonsense until Brennan decided to cut to him. 

Ricky just dolphin swims across the Hudson in 2.5 mins to go put out the fire that Sophie set. Amazing. 

Ally mocking Emily/Sophie: Truthfully, I don’t know what happened.

"I love John McClane, because he loves his wife.” WALLY

Wally: Oh we’re gonna tell a lie on Christmas.

“This is what winning looks like.”

I would really like to know what trace stuff what on the drugs Pete got from 7 but Ally rolled too low to figure it out.

“I disassociate fully." 

Well it took him a long ass time but glad to have Pete on the selling drugs to kids is bad train. Choo-choo, dude. 

7 saying you can hack in real life in reference to his AK-47 has the same energy as Hardison using the word hack in literally any semi-weird episode of Leverage. 

SOCIAL MEDIA IS VOLUNTARY PANOPTICON

So Kug goes with Wally to David’s house disguised as a dog and, despite that, blurts out that he’s his dad immediately. Well, he tries to. The Umbral Arcana stops him, unfortunately. 

"I lick my son’s face.” KUUUUG. 

Sophie showing up with a raw goose and hellish rebuking it is so metal and it’s a shame no one got to appreciate it. 

Me when Sophie’s Mom changes into black top in solidarity for Sophie’s mourning: F EVERY OTHER NON-SOPHIE BICICLETA. I RESPECT YOU. 

Kingston is hustling very hard to get his man Pete a job which is a very Kingston move. That’s how guys like that show affection. 

Didn’t mention it before but Kingston’s parents and Mom specifically adopting Pete is very cute. 

Sidenote: Idk what 7 was talking about Pete trying to stay low profile. He wears a cowboy hat (now a ZEBRA STRIPED one, courtesy of Kingston). I think the subtlety train has sailed my guy. 

Esther shows up at the firehouse, carrying presents for her mom and grandma and looking for Ricky. The says that she’s kinda dealing with something and it feels good to be around him (beat) magically speaking. Sure. I’m gonna keep my Hercules soundtrack on hand just in case anyway. 

I think Ricky is the only person who, with no pretense, could give his crush a sexy calendar featuring him.

Anyway, turns out Esther’s mom and grandma are the furies of Tompkins Square and she’s fated to join them or something. 

Esther causally: I defy you, I defy the prophecy.

The fury thing would explain why Esther’s mom would have cursed Kug. They are famously magical punishers.  

Ricky is a magically certified Good Boy but we been knew.

Zac’s restraint to respect Esther’s personal boundaries in lieu of getting a lore drop to stay true to Ricky’s character is amazing. Mad props.

So we slide over to Misty’s Christmas party which Stephen Sondhein is attending and him having a character card kinda killed me. 

There’s a post on tumblr somewhere about playing faerie  incapability for impoliteness against a vampires need to be invited in and that’s what I thought about when Moses and his vamp friends showed up at Misty’s house.

Robert tries to talk Misty into striking a deal with him for protection from Titania. She’s very much not having it.  

“You know Robert, I love a comedy and I love a farce. I’d like to remind you of who it is that started this and it’s not me and it’s not my friends but I can assure you Robert Moses that we will be the ones to end it if you do not. Do you understand me?” Damn. That’s a mic drop from Misty. 

[As I’m editing this, I’m realizing I somehow lost a BIG chunk of text. I’m not gonna write it all up again but the Cliffnotes are as follows:

Between the Solstice and Christmas, the gang goes Grand Central Station to see the clockwork gnomes that live there because trouble is apparently afoot. Some size changing nonsense happens and Pete shoots a dog (with mini bullets, the dog is fine). Lou is enchanted even though Kingston is not (a common theme with him). Ally and Emily are on the same nonsense wavelength (as usual). 

There are dope magical dragon trains under Grand Central Station that go to the shadow realm which is a place I’d like to know about. Kingston has never seen these trains before even though you’d really think he would have.  

Murph says Gnome Rights which is wild if you know what Naddpod is like. 

Anyway, the high priestess of the gnomes passed out the other day and they figure out it was due to pixie magic which is suspicious. They also know they pixies have access to a “time stone” which leads me to believe that it’s Brennan and not Aguefort who thinks that Chronomancy is the most powerful magic of all. 

Sophie and Jackson go to Dale’s grave on Christmas. Jackson explains that the Order of the Concrete Fist is basically a literal school of hard knocks. A counterbalance to all the reach for the stars dreaminess that comes with NYC.

Dale was their chosen one who was supposed to stop the monastery from falling when some unspecified badness crossed over to this side, but when he went to the place where he was supposed to get guidance, there was no one there (clearly tying in to what Dale said to Sophie last time they talked. I wonder what she needs to get to the top of? Empire State maybe?).

Watching Murph watching Emily, his real life spouse, play at grief for her fictional husband and do some truly insane things is so funny because you can clearly see him thinking, “I am married to this woman,” which, in fairness, is probably the main thing he’s thinking when he’s playing D&D with Emily.

I’m probably missing something but that’s all I remember. Back to post-Christmas!]

So it’s opening night at Misty’s show and, somehow, Ricky’s first show ever. 

I love that Don Confetti is there because of Siobhan’s offhanded comment for a handful of eps ago about him being a supporter of the arts.

Anyway, everything is going great until the second act when Titania busts in through the mirror which is *not* is storage as Misty requested but on stage. It’s a theater fight, y'all! And not the West Side Story kind although if that doesn’t come up I will be very surprised. 

“Let’s kill Titania!” –Misty in the promo

Just going straight to 11, huh Misty?

See y'all then!

[tenpin-boleyn]

I procrastinated and this mess happened

It’s horrificly bad but it’s inspired by this doodle I did when I was, you guessed it, procrastinating :))

So enjoy this pile of Millie’s cat sick :)

“I’m glad I found Chocolate Milk now because if I found it before I wouldn’t be able to drink it.” Anne stated, her face the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Why? Are you lactose intolerant?” You replied back, blissfully unaware of the past Anne hid. “I was beheaded? Duh” she laughed.

You had known Anne for over a year now, but not once has she mentioned being beheaded in a past life. You had seen Anne in Six obviously but you’d just assumed that was a character she had taken on. Like that time you played the Virgin Mary at age 4, probably not the best decision eh Mrs Keeping but there we go.

Anne suddenly looked as white as a ghost. She had forgotten that you didn’t know. For what it was worth Anne was a great actor. Onstage she was competition to a gremlin, but to a select few she was Anne. Just Anne. Anne with no tragic backstory. Just a girl who liked milkshakes. “I’m so sorry Anne. I didn’t know” you said lovingly, placing a hand onto Anne’s. It was a small gesture but it made you feel better that you could bring a bit of colour back to her rosy cheeks again. “Shall we go to yours? I want to show you something that will open your eyes forever.” Anne nodded to this, happy that you hadn’t dragged out the topic anymore.

You had hoped Anne wouldn’t already know what you were about to show her. It might be common knowledge to most but she had a tickling feeling that Anne wasn’t part of that percentage. You took her hand and ran down the street, passing the Queens house, which made Anne raise an eyebrow. Jane liked everyone home by 9, and it was already half 7, so she couldn’t go on a wild adventure to oxford on a random bus. “Look Y/N-“

“Tah dah.” You stopped and raised your hands at the sign above you.

“Tesco? You brought me to Tesco?”

You smiled at the green minx, “ah my child this isn’t any normal trip to Tesco. This is a life changing trip”

You managed to pry Anne away from the chocolate bars- you had a feeling that the sugar from the milkshakes was already getting to her head- and led her down the dairy isle. While Anne was distracted with a carton of purple milk you grabbed the carton you were searching for. “What do you think goes into purple milk? Cow blood mixed with a taste of WKD? ANNE MILLICENT BOLEYN DONT YOU DARE THINK ABOUT TOUCHING MY ALCOHOL CABINET. Well now I don’t have to” She laughed.

“Anne what I have in my hands will change your entire life.”

You presented her with a carton of chocolate milk and you smiled to yourself as you watched her eyes widen and start to twinkle.

“You. Can. Buy. Chocolate. Milk?”

When you finally went back to the Queens place, you couldn’t help but worry. You had literally bought Tesco out of Chocolate milk. You knew Jane was a strict mum so perhaps introducing Anne, loud, insane Anne, to a new sugary invention wasn’t the best idea. Especially when you are carrying 27 cartons. 26, Anne just drank one. “Shall we take these up to my room?” Anne was obviously thinking about not having to share, rather than what Jane would think. “You do realise you need to keep milk in the fridge right?”

“But I thought- cause its chocolate-“

She looked downtrodden. “Do you want to sleep round? It’s getting late anyway and I just changed my sheets after months so it’s not a biohazard anymore!” You giggled to yourself, Anne truly was special. “I’d love to. Will the others mind?”

“No they love you!” And with that Anne unlocked the door.

“I’m telling you they’re dating!”

“No, id have read about it by now.”

“Huh?”

“Am I the only one who reads her dia- hello. Welcome to the very normal and casual conversation we are definitely having.” Cleves exclaimed from where she was sat, having realised that both girls were standing in the hallway.

“I’ve missed you guys! How have you been?”

“Great, I’ve finished my book on why men are absolutely pointless and serve no use on this planet!”

“And I made cookies for the first time! Who would have known that chocolate cookies aren’t just overcooked cookies?”

Anna noticed the bags we were carrying. “Do you two care to explain why we now own a farms worth of chocolate milk?”

“To cure my lacking toes intolerance”

“To help feed children in Africa!”

You both panicked. Anne, because she didn’t want to share, and you, because you didn’t want to get Anne into trouble for spending an absurd amount on flavoured milk. “Put them Into the garage fridge before Jane sees them! Lord knows what she’ll do with 40 cartons of confiscated milk.”

You glanced at Anne and giggled, you had noticed that her eyes were just a bit more bluer today, a trait you learnt meant that she was happy, and a darker blue meant she was going through a rough patch. “Before Jane sees what?” A blonde figure asked.

Before either of you could panic out another excuse, Cleves piped up again. “ I was just asking the girls to take my deliveries upstairs into my fridge” Anne winked at you both “because my back hurts awfully”

Jane smiled sympathetically at Cleves, unaware of the truth she was hiding. “Alright hurry up you two, and it’s lovely to see you Y/N!”

“You too Mrs Seymour!”

“Call me Jane.” You smiled. Although you called her Jane to Anne, it was only because that’s what Anne used, Jane had never formally told you to call her Jane, so you didn’t think it was proper. It felt nice to know that someone liked you, even a tiny bit.

“I’m telling you it’s not going to fit.” You declared as Anne tried to stuff 25 cartons of milk into the tiny mini fridge Anna had in her room. Yes Anne had drank another carton and was nearly bouncing off the walls. To your surprise 23 of the cartons fit inside of the fridge. “Looks like we’ll have to drink these then” Anne smiled mischievously.

The pair of you had been sat in Anne’s bed for about half an hour, just enjoying each other’s company whilst sipping the chocolate milk when you couldn’t stop yourself. “Why didn’t you tell me you got beheaded?” You had to admit, Anne’s slip up earlier stung. Didn’t she trust you with that information? But she trusted a room full of strangers?

Anne couldn’t look you in the eye, she was quite engaged by the edible glitter she had poured into her milk. You didn’t think she heard you so you started to ask her again.

“Why didn-“

“I’m sorry. I’m really fucking sorry. It’s just, I’m so happy when I’m around you, and I don’t want to waste a second of it talking about my last life- it was hell, yes, but I’m over it. I’d rather talk about scrunchies than kerplunkies” and with that she motioned a quick beheading with her fingers and tongue.

To be fair, you hadn’t expected that reply. You hadn’t expected a decent reply end of. You’d put it down to the fact that Anne was coming down from a 22 hour long sugar rush and was too tired to think about what she was saying. “I- I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry that you feel that you need to keep things from me just to have a good time. I mean we could do 95% fun and 5% family trauma because god knows I’ve got tons. But I like hanging out with you to Boleyn.”

Neither of you knew what to say next. Not much had been said but it was enough to build a bridge that wasn’t previously there. Out of nowhere Anne gets a text from Kitty. It contained an emoji and a word. Typical kitty. “💋 her”

Anne was shocked, 1. Where was Katherine and how did she spot the silence and sexual tension, and 2. How the fuck did she know that she was gay. Sure the queens were open and accepting of being gay, but it wasn’t something that Anne spoke about. But despite all of the racing questions, Anne plucked up the balls she stole from Henry and leant in and cupped Y/N’s face. You were shocked at this movement. How did a discussion about beheadings lead to this? But you weren’t complaining. You had realised you loved Anne the day she fell off of her bike. She had never rode a bike before so you had been teaching her, at first she seemed promising, but she fell over and scraped her knee, causing a war amount of blood to pour. To your amazement, she started crying and asking for Millie. You panicked, who was Millie?? You thought it could be a pet name for one of the queens but you couldn’t be sure which. So you ran inside to fetch Kitty. “Who’s Millie??”

Without even speaking Kat ran upstairs and returned holding a ragged old dog teddy. Just the thought of Anne being so vulnerable, clutching the years old toy made your heart wrench- more than when your favourite TV show got cancelled and definitely more than when Ben and Jerry’s decided to stop selling Cookie Dough at the cinema.

You leant in to annes hands, and placed your lips upon hers in a frenzy of sparks and fireworks. You had dreamt of this moment, but you could never have imagined it would come true. Just the thought made you smile, making Anne laugh whilst kissing you. You suddenly pull away, realising that you hadn’t been honestly with Anne either. “ I was murdered. By my father.”

“Where the actual fuck did that come from”

From outside the door the pair heard giggles and a muffled shout of “language Anne!”

Of course the other queens would be spying on the pair of you. You weren’t blind,or deaf. You’d heard the comments kitty and Cleves make when they think you can’t hear, and you’ve seen the silent arguments between kitty and Jane.

It did feel nice to have people who cared. Even if they were looking out for Anne. They felt like family. It felt like home.

“ANNE MILLICENT BOLEYN I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU TOUCH MY BIBLE EVER AGAIN-“ Catherine of Aragon burst into the room, past the other queens listening intently outside the door and you suddenly realised that you were still locked in an embrace with Anne. You quickly pulled away before whispering

“That impression was spot on.”

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Stranger, Part 2

FULL CHAPTER

Part 1

Dean x Reader

Summary: Reader finds a stranger wandering the road, his head and clothes bloody. He’s disorientated and doesn’t remember who he is. She takes him in and they get close until he starts having nightmares about monsters and killing people.

Then one day, a sleek black car pulls up and a tall man gets out, wearing lots of flannel and has shaggy hair. He claims that the stranger is his brother and he’s come to collect him.

Warnings: Talk of abuse, anxiety, mild violence, language, canon divergence

Word Count: 4.2K

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Seven Days Later…

“Dean! Dinner’s up!” you called down the hallway, but he didn’t answer. Maybe he’d fallen asleep again, he had been doing that a lot lately. You could tell he was tired. Maybe it was lack of sleep, or he was putting in too many hours at the store after whatever accident he had. Either way, his sleep was broken and haunted, and even from your room upstairs, you could hear him occasionally calling for someone or something.

You knocked softly on the bedroom door and it pushed open slightly. The room was half lit by the table lamp beside the bed, and Dean’s form was laying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. He had looked more than a little tired over the past few days. He simply said he hadn’t slept well, so you left it alone. But you were scared he was hiding something more. Maybe the pain in his head was getting bad again, or his ribs weren’t healing, or he was starting to remember who he really was.

You’d tried (and failed) to convince him to see a doctor, swearing up and down that he was fine. Even now, at half past seven in the evening, his rest was labored and broken. You noticed he was scowling in his sleep, his legs twitching and his body tense. You were about to wake him when he turned over suddenly, his arms violently flailing in front of him and muttering the words, ‘no… don’t…’ repeatedly.

“Dean?” you said just above a whisper, “Dean… wake up.”

You sat on the bed beside him and lightly shook his shoulder, igniting his gut instinct to react. He shot up from the bed, grabbed your wrist tight and twisted it roughly.

“Ow! Dean!” you screeched, causing him to really wake up and notice his surroundings.

He registered your face and immediately dropped your hand. “Y/N, I’m sorry… shit. I was having a nightmare, and—”

“Its fine, really,” you said rubbing your wrist where he grabbed you. “That must have been one hell of a nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he grunted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and trying to rid his brain from the horrific visions he just had. He looked at you mournfully, his eyes kept going to your wrist and the guilt he felt was painted all over his face.

“Wanna talk about it?”

Dean quickly shifted his gaze from you, making you feel as if he was hiding something from you, or at least holding back. Even though it had only been a little over a week, you’d come to feel like you knew him, at least this version of Dean, and something felt off.

He sighed and looked at you apologetically. “Maybe later. Right now, I can smell dinner and I’m starving.” He pulled himself off the bed and extended you a hand to help you up. “What’s on tonight’s menu?”

“Meatloaf and potatoes.”

“Perfect,” he smiled again and extended his elbow for you to take as you exited the room together. “And what’s on the Netflix for bingin’?”

“Whatever you like,” you said, though, for the first time since he’d been there, you weren’t as enthused for your night of ‘Netflix and Chill’ with Dean as you had been in days past. Trying to shrug off the odd feeling you had, you simply smiled and headed towards the kitchen to eat.

He kept the conversation light, steering it away from his nightmares whenever you tried to bring it up. Hell-bent on changing the subject, you let him ramble on about the store, the shows you’d been watching, and whatever other small talks he threw your way.

Once dinner was done and the dishes were cleared, you found him on the couch, his head resting back against the cushion. He was sitting on the far end, and you took your place on the opposite end of the sofa. Dean’s eyes were closed, but he felt your weight shift the cushions and it made him grunt.

“You put me in a food coma,” he groaned happily, patting his stomach with both hands. “Please don’t tell me there’s dessert… unless it’s those apple things you made the other night. In that case, I’ll have two please.”

You laughed at him and shook your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Nope,” he said, as he opened his eyes and turned to look at you without taking his head off the cushion, “you’re just a really good cook.”

“Alright, enough flattery. I don’t have the apple things, but I will make more tomorrow.”

Dean did an animated fist pump and grinned.  

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked, grabbing the remote and flicking on the tv. “We could binge Game of Thrones… oh, or maybe The Walking Dead.”

“Nah, no zombies, ice ones or otherwise. How about Stranger Things? Those kids are so damn funny.”

You agreed and put the show on to where you’d left off. Sometime around when Joyce Byers was buying an insane amount of Christmas lights, you felt his eyes on you. You looked at Dean and confirmed that he was staring at you. This made you blush and feel very self-conscious.

“What? I have a booger or something?” you laughed but drew your knees up into your chest, a defensive habit you developed while growing up. Your nerves were feeling the weight of the last week, and it hit you (not for the first time) that this man was a complete stranger, and you were just letting him live with you.

You had just opened your home and business to him like you’d known him for years, not just found him bloody on the side of the road. At times you thought he was the best friend you’d ever had, and other times you chastised yourself, brutally, for taking him in like a stray dog.

Now, with the way he was looking at you, you worried if you’d made a mistake. Would he hurt you? Attack you? Beat you silly just for fun? The swirling chaos that was erupting in your head must have been written all over your face because Dean noticed you weren’t okay.

He grabbed the remote and paused the show. “Hey, you alright?”

You couldn’t answer. Somehow between the earlier situation in his room, and now with the way he was looking at you, anxiety had filled the crevices of your brain and you were certain that Dean was some lunatic hell bent on hurting you.

“Y/N?” He leaned forward and reached across the couch, holding out a hand towards you. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You could feel your hands start to tremble, your mind still racing with questions and doubt about whether you could or should trust him. “Hey, talk me. What happened? If it’s about earlier, I’m really sorry I scared you.”

“I, uh, I’m—” you started to cry, and not just a few tears. Something had been building up since the confrontation with Shane and having Dean around was adding to it. Having grown up with an abusive father figure, and a bully of a brother, men were always something you had a tough time navigating. There hadn’t been too many good ones in your life, and while you felt Dean was one of them, anxiety was now making you doubt that.

“Hey, hey… it’s alright,” he tutted, and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “whatever it is, we can fix it.”

Dean pulled you into the crook of his arm and held you close. It should have made things worse; normally that’s what happened. Being that physically close to someone was usually the cause of a near instant panic attack. But not this time. Dean’s arm around you helped the trembling to stop, the endless chatter in your brain to cease, and even your tears found a way to dry up. He used his hand to push your head closer to him, leaving a kiss on the top of your hair.

“If you’re worried about Shane, he picked up his keys and he promised he’d stay away.”

“It’s not Shane, it’s you. You scare the shit out of me,” you said in a surprisingly even and calm tone.

He didn’t push you away or react adversely at all. Instead, his grip on you readjusted slightly, making you feel more comforted. You heard him sigh and looked up to try and read his expression. Dean was biting his lower lip, concern dusted across his brow.

“This has gotta be weird for you, I get that. I think about it a lot. If you want me to go, Y/N, I will. I’m better, my head is pretty much healed, my ribs don’t hurt at all. I can just go—”

“That’s just it, Dean. Despite everything, I don’t want you to go. Yet, I fear what happens if you stay. You don’t belong here. You probably have a family, or someone looking for you. For over a week now you’ve lived here, and we quickly fell into this weird domestic routine that feels completely foreign to me. I’ve lived alone for a long time, and except for my shithead brother, I don’t have anyone I talk to regularly.”

“That ain’t right, Y/N. You should be happy and have someone—” he paused and rubbed his hand over his stubbled cheek, lightly sighing. He was serious, but also sweet in the way he was looking at you. “You deserve someone that appreciates you. Someone who looks out for you and cares about you. I’d be dead if you didn’t find me. Honestly, every time I try and think about where I should be, or where that note said I had to be, all I can think is this is where… I am where I should be.”

This time when you looked up, the intensity in his gaze pierced into you, causing a swell of erotic discomfort that hadn’t been there before. Who was this guy that he could bring forth such a rush of emotions? He could make you laugh, feel safe, but also terrify you with how quickly he reacts, like he did with Shane and then earlier when you tried to wake him. He was mysterious and yet familiar, which caused an odd sense of déjà vu that couldn’t be explained. At the same time, you felt yourself wanting him more with each day that passed. These weren’t feelings you were used to having, in fact, they were elusive and very absent in your life.

The house was completely silent. You felt yourself start to slightly tremble again, but it wasn’t out of fear this time. Dean’s face was inching closer to yours, so close you could make out the army of freckles that fell over the bridge of his perfectly shaped nose. You heard him swallow nervously, just as his hand brushed against your chin to direct your face up towards him.

Before you could object, Dean’s lips pressed softly against yours. It was tentative and sweet; the passion driving it was slow to ignite, but it was there bubbling under the surface of the uncertainty it was layered with. He didn’t try and shove his tongue in your mouth or grab you and throw you down on the couch; he kept it light, opening his mouth just enough for you to feel the silky tip of his tongue against yours.

His hand brushed the hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear; then gently cradled your jawline and neck. You weren’t lost in the moment but fully immersed in it; inviting whatever anxiety still clung to you to leave. It went on for more than a minute, the hesitant, yet sensual touches of two people who just wanted to forget the outside world for a moment and find comfort in the other.

He pulled back first and pressed his forehead against yours. A ghost of a smile touched the mouth you were instantly longing for again.

“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that,” his voice was raspy and dry.

“Don’t apologize Dean. I’m glad you did. I wanted you too, so much. I’m just… scared.”

“I’m not like Shane,” he said taking both your hands into his. “I would never hurt you or lay a hand on you.”

“I know, I’m sorry I thought otherwise.”

“You have plenty of reason to, Y/N. You don’t talk about it much, but I can see it. And I hate it.”

“Who the hell are you?” you whispered, almost inaudibly, but the desperation you felt to really know him coated your words. You examined his face to try and find something in it that spoke up to your question. But all you found was some kindred—but lost—spirit, swimming amidst the cut of his green eyes.

“Sweetheart, I wish I knew. But right now, I don’t hate the guy I am with you.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, right in the chest. The way he looked at you when he said it just proved that he was sincere. You didn’t know if that made it worse, or better.

“I’m just afraid to get too attached. One day, your life is going to come walking through that door, and you’ll be gone.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But neither do you. You don’t even seem to want to know where you came from.”

“Whatever is going to happen, will,” he said, completely ignoring your last comment. “We can only control right now, right? So, I say we enjoy this for whatever it is and watch the rest of this episode.” He raised his brow playfully, getting you to smile. “Besides, I gotta know what this woman is gonna do with those lights,” he chuckled, but his expression was trying to convey something else. It was as if he was pleading for you to just agree. So, you simply offered him a small smile, then nodded and curled into his side.

You wanted him to kiss you again; thought about just pulling him to you, but you didn’t. Whatever was happening was meant to be taken at a snail’s pace and not just because he was still healing, but because you didn’t want to end up having to do any healing yourself. A broken heart never set correctly, and it was one thing you didn’t need to deal with, ever again.

  After going to bed that night, you stayed awake for a long while, mulling over everything that had happened in the past week. Starting with a strange man crashing into your life, then a confrontation with Shane, and now it had just become that much more complicated with the kiss you shared.

Dean kissed you one more time, very softly, while saying goodnight. Though it didn’t last as long as the first one, somehow it was harder to walk away from. Getting involved with him was not in your plans, and maybe in the cold hard light of day, you’d come to your senses, but at this moment all you wanted to do was go back downstairs and be with him.

While you were trying to decide what you should do, there was a large crash of the metal garbage cans hitting the pavement near the garage. Assuming it was probably the raccoons again, you took it as a sign that you should go downstairs and just double check. You jumped out of bed and put your cotton robe over your PJs that consisted of a pair of boy shorts and a tank top and headed down to check out the raucous.  

Tiptoeing down the old wooden stairs, you paused outside his bedroom door and listened. It was quiet. Deciding you’d leave him to sleep, you were about to go peek out the kitchen window to check on the noise when another sound from outside caught your attention. This time you heard low voices through from the other side of the exterior wall.

You knocked lightly, but frantically, on Dean’s door. When you heard no answer, you pushed it open anyway, nearly jumped into the room and closed it quickly. The crash of the cans must have woken him, as he was sitting up in bed already. He held a finger to his mouth in a gesture for you to be quiet. Dean threw the covers off himself, pressed himself against the wall and gingerly lifted the curtain covering the window closest to his bed. He motioned for you to come closer and you obliged with no hesitation.

“I hear voices,” he whispered, carefully putting the curtain back with minimal movement.

“Me too.”

“Do you have any weapons? Gun? Machetes? Hell, fireplace poker?” he asked, still calm and cool as always.

“Um, I have a shotgun. Its upstairs in my closet. It's not loaded and its locked in a case. Honestly, I don’t even know if it is fully assembled anymore. I hate the damn thing.”

“At least you have one. C’mon,” Dean said as he grabbed your hand and headed upstairs.

You got to your room and rifled through the closet until you found the locked case. Fumbling with the keys you’d grabbed from the dresser, you opened it and handed the whole mess to Dean. “Do you know—”

Before you could even finish your thought, he was taking the pieces, assembling and loading it in record time. You watched in awe with the speed he had it locked and loaded as if it was as natural as breathing for him. For the briefest moment, the intruders were forgotten, and a bit of the earlier anxiety set it.

‘Who the fuck is this guy’ you kept thinking, yet still really didn’t fear him, just the things you’ve seen him do.

The sound of glass breaking downstairs made you jump, but Dean was by your side in a second.

“I want you to stay here,” he said firmly. “Lock this door and don’t open it unless you hear my voice, alright?”

You nodded, fear starting to consume you. Dean didn’t miss it. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. I’ll take care of it.” He held the side of your face with his hand and locked his eyes with yours, making sure he saw that you believed him.

“You’re going to kill them? I can call the cops—”

“No, not yet. No cops,” he barked, then shook his head, as if trying to get the thought gone. “I’m not gonna kill anyone. Just stay here. Find whatever you can that would hurt someone and hold on to it.”

He tried to offer you a comforting smile, but the sound of more breaking glass set him into action and he was gone out of your bedroom door. Once you locked it behind him, you tried to regulate your breathing and not let the panic overtake you. You did consider calling the cops anyway. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do? Not that they would be much help. Your local Sheriff’s department consisted of three officers, two of which you knew from high school and wouldn’t trust them to find a lost dog. Instead, you choose to follow Dean’s caution and just wait it out.

The house was quiet again; you couldn’t hear Dean or anyone from outside. Hoping the intruders left on their own, you chanced a peak from the second story window that overlooked the garage and driveway. All you could make out were three shadows moving along the perimeter of the house and peering into the windows that weren’t already shattered.

The blast of a shotgun rang out and the three shadows took off through the backyard. One of black masses fell over one of the tipped garbage cans. They scrambled to their feet when they saw Dean exit the house by the back door. The dim back porch light gave just enough illumination for you to see him stalking across the driveway, cocking the shotgun.

The fallen intruder got to his feet and dove for cover behind the garage just as Dean fired another shot. Though the adrenaline was coursing through your body, you didn’t feel any more fear. The anxiety of it all slipped away the moment you saw Dean down below; you just knew you were safe. It also didn’t escape you that when he fired the second shot, he wasn’t really aiming near the target.

‘Just a warning,’ you thought and felt even more relief.

From downstairs, you heard the back door close. Not too long after, you could hear Dean’s footsteps coming back upstairs, then his knock on the door. “Y/N, it’s me, open the door.”

Before he could step foot all the way in, you were throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. You felt him sigh against you, placing one arm around the small of your back and hugging you tightly. When you let him go, you saw the concern he held on his brow and followed his gaze to his hand. In it, he held a brick with a paper attached.

“What is that?” you asked. A wave of nausea rising from the pit of your stomach. ‘That,’ you thought, ‘is nothing but trouble.’ “What does it say, Dean?”

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. “This is what came through the window. It was on the living room floor by the couch. A second one broke one of the kitchen windows.” He held out the brick for you to take.

Examining it, you turned it over and saw the paper that had been firmly rubber banded to the brick. The note said, ‘we’re coming for you’.”

“What the hell does that mean? Who is coming for me?” your mind was racing, and all you could come back to was that it was from Shane, or some of his idiot friends trying to scare you. Even though you hadn’t heard from him since the incident in the store, you knew he was petty and underhanded; he would do anything to get what he wanted.

“Y/N, maybe it's not for you… maybe this is because of me. What you said earlier… maybe—maybe you were right. My past is catching up to me.”

You felt your knees weaken and abruptly needed to sit. Finding your way to your bed, you fell onto it and drew in a deep, shaky breath. Dean carefully rested the shotgun against the window and sat next to you on the bed.

“Good thing you don’t have close neighbors. Cops would’ve been here by now,” he tried to joke but knew you were too rattled by the message.

“Dean… what the hell do we do now?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. Whoever the hell they were, they’re gone for tonight. I saw two of ‘em take off, one went ‘round the garage but I doubt he stuck around.”

“We really are quite the pair, huh? Me with a psychotic brother, you with a mysterious past and no memory. Where’s the Lifetime people when you need them?”

Dean laughed and rubbed both hands wearily over his face. “Tomorrow, we will try and figure this all out. Not much we can do now, so we should probably try to get some sleep.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Yeah, sleep. Ok. Cause that’ll happen.”

“You gotta try. You’re no good to me sleep deprived and crabby,” he teased, his eyes were tired and his features soft.

You touched his stubbled cheek, cradling his jaw with your hand as he leaned into you. “Will you stay with me? Up here? I really don’t want to be alone after that.”

He nodded softly. You got up from the bed and placed the brick on the floor in the corner. After you slipped off your robe and left it on the chair, you crawled back into bed and Dean followed suit. You both laid down, facing each other in a near mirror-image; each of you with one arm curled up under your pillow.

“You should try to sleep,” he whispered, gingerly brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen on your cheek.

“So should you.”

“You sure this is alright? Me, in your bed?”

You smiled and nodded. “Trust me, you’re right where I want you to be,” you teased, using his own words against him.

He chuckled, his tongue peeking out against his bottom lip and biting it slightly as he sleepily gazed at you. “You know, despite what just happened, I don’t hate how this day ended.”

“Me either. You make me feel safe, Dean. Regardless of which one of our train wreck lives brought this to the doorstep, it doesn’t matter. I’m glad you’re here, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Dean’s eyes drifted closed, as he wrapped his one free arm up around your shoulder. His fingers grazed against your skin, leaving you wanting to feel more of him. Even though you were more confident that he was really the man you thought he was, you still wanted to be sure; take things slow. For tonight, just falling asleep next to him would be enough; his arm around you, his breath on your cheek and secure in the knowledge that he would keep you safe from whatever threat lay waiting.

Falling asleep with him was just what you needed. Until his nightmares started again. That was something you weren’t prepared for, and Dean’s nightmares scared you far more than the intruders ever did.

Part 3 Published 8/3/18.

Drop me an ask if you want to be added to tags.

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Words On My Skin (Part 2)

A/N: Ask, and you shall receive! I’m actually REALLY surprised at how well part 1 did! I wasn’t expecting it! Glad you all liked it! I love hearing from you! Xoxo! This is going to be a series! A SLOWWW BURNN! (Muwahaahahahaha)

Warnings: Really horrible nightmare right in the beginning, swearing, etc.

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

 What’s happening?

You were laying on the cold, hard wood of your old apartment. You knew it was your floor, because you could smell the natural wood cleaner you’d bought from the supermarket. The wood floor was hard against your back and your head, and you rolled onto your side to relive the discomfort. There was an overwhelming sense of fear, causing a knot in your stomach and bile to sit in your throat.

Why were you afraid?

Your tattoo was burning – a searing pain radiating from the skin of your wrist, up your arm. You could sense people around you, even though your eyes were closed. Your arm was cradled against your chest, and you curled up to protect it. Your body was curled up into a ball, and you forced your eyes to remain closed – terrified of the things surrounding you.

They want to hurt you.

Why did they want to hurt you?

Who were they?

Suddenly, there were hands. Hands all over. Hands grabbing at you, pulling you onto your back, pulling on your clothes, your skin, your hair… You tried to scream, but your vocal chords wouldn’t cooperate. You felt no vibration on your vocal chords, just the exhale of your pants. Your eyes flew open, but you were met with a blinding light.

No, no, no. What was happening?

You thrashed against the hands – a futile attempt of an escape – and felt tears rush down your cheeks, as your silent screams turned to sobs.

Why was this happening to you?

One of the hands slithered its way onto your neck, pressing down and gripping you over your windpipe. You gasped for air, thrashing against the hands to try and free your neck. Panic started to seep into your veins, as something eclipsed over the blinding light. Your eyes widened in terror, as the figure’s shape became apparent.

It was a large man below the shoulders, but his head was gone. It had been replaced with a foul, snake-like creature with multiple heads. The scales reflected against the harsh light, dripping red with blood. The heads resembled more of a dragon than a snake, all of its angry eyes focused right on you. It hissed, tongue flicking out and grazing against your cheek.

You tensed in pain, the tongue’s saliva like acid against your skin. The creature’s fangs dripped, venom splattering against your tank top-clad chest and burning through the material. You watched in horror as the skin began to bubble and bleed, the viscous venom seeping into your skin and burning into your lungs.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t think.

WAKE UP!!

You startled awake with a gasp, rolling onto your side and off your bed with a thump. Your hand flew to your chest, as you coughed from your sudden intake of air. Your heart was jackhammering in your chest, and your pulse was pounding in your ears. You shivered, feeling the cool air of your bedroom breeze against your damp, sweaty skin. Your hair was stuck to your head, and you felt a lump start to form in your throat, as the coughing began to subside.

You slowly opened your eyes, thankful that you’d landed on your blankets versus the floor, since you’d landed on your healing shoulder.

You sat up, glancing at the nightstand to see that it was only 2:30 in the morning.

“Fuck…” You sighed, leaning against your bed and running your shaking hands through your hair. You replayed your mantra over and over in your head, trying to focus on your breathing until your heart rate lowered back to normal.

You leaned your head back against the mattress, trying to shake the panic from your bones.

You’d been getting regular nightmares since the attack, two and a half months ago. It seemed that every night you were startling awake a few hours before your alarm was set to go off, and you basically ran off caffeine, these days. You felt better than you probably would have if you’d stayed in your apartment but having so much change in the span of a few days had really taken its toll.

In the span of literally 2 days you’d: moved into a new apartment, started your new job, decided to translate your soulmate tattoo, find out that Bucky fucking Barnes is your soulmate, get attacked by HYDRA, end up in the hospital, get moved out of your new apartment, and get moved into the Avengers compound. So much was going on at once, that it was no wonder you couldn’t sleep.

Bucky Barnes was your soulmate…

It was a weird.

Luckily, you’d both decided to take it slow and get to know each other. This wasn’t some Nicholas Sparks movie, where two people meet and fall in love within a matter of a day. You had no clue about who Bucky really was, and he had no idea who you were. You both had a lot of shit to figure out. Taking it slow and getting to know each other was the only decision that made sense.

Now, that didn’t mean that you two barely ever saw each other. You were the assistant to the Avengers. You knew Bucky’s daily schedule, when he had missions, his coffee order… hell, you lived right next door to the man.

You were thankful to Tony for the living situation, but it was a lot to get used to.

Immediately after the attack, Tony had some people pack your stuff back up into boxes and brought into the living quarters at the compound… right between Bucky and Steve.

Thank god for soundproof walls.

Everything that didn’t fit in your room and bathroom went into storage, Tony paid you an annoying amount of money, and you didn’t have to pay a cent.

It was honestly too good to be true. You had this little fear in the back of your mind that it was all fake, and they were going to throw you out on the street with nothing.

Considering, that’s exactly what your mother did, when you went to a state university and didn’t become a lawyer.

You shook your head, banishing any thoughts about your mother and father. They could wonder why you wouldn’t return their calls, all they wanted. They made their bed, they could lie in it.

Heaving yourself up off the floor, you gathered all of your fallen blankets and decided to make your bed.

It was calming, finding something to do to give your nerves a break. Cleaning or working seemed to be the only thing that could calm your mind, lately. That, and self defense with Bucky… but that was more of you gawking at his biceps and trying not to get tossed onto the mat. Bucky had gone into full protective-mode, the second you were allowed to leave the hospital room. You were asked to wear your Stark Watch 24/7, take a security guard with you if you had to leave, and immediately had to start training for self-defense.

You’d taken self-defense your second year of college, but that wasn’t good enough for Bucky.

If he had his way, he’d be teaching you how to shoot a gun, as well.

Nope.

Not happening.

When your bed was made, you grabbed your hoodie off the floor and phone off the nightstand. Shrugging it on over your shorts and tank top, you shoved your phone in your pocket – heading out to the kitchen for some coffee.

The hard floors were cold under your bare feet, and you had half a mind to turn around and go grab some socks.

When you made it into the empty kitchen, you stopped in front of the fancy coffee maker to fill it with water and grounds. You’d usually make one of your fancy drinks from when you were a barista, or maybe even an espresso… but you were too tired. This was the third day in a row that you’d barely slept.

When the machine was humming, and spurting coffee into the pot, you leaned against the counter and watched the drip – getting lost in thoughts about your dream.

The first night you’d had that dream, you’d just passed it off as some insane memory of the attack – warped into a nightmare.

The second night, you’d gone full dream analysis and studied the crap out of your dream.

You’d found that when dreaming about being attacked, there was a possibility of unresolved internal conflict, feeling like something was preventing you from reaching your goals, or feeling emotionally ‘under attack’.

Which made sense.

There were a lot of unresolved feelings about the whole attack.

No one told you how HYDRA managed to track your computer, via online translation. No one told you how many agents died in the fight. No one wanted to tell you anything, because they thought that you shouldn’t have to worry about it… which made you worry more.

You were almost as bad as Tony, with all of your worrying.

You’d also looked up the meaning of hands in your dream. It seemed significant, considering they were pulling you in all directions. Dreaming of hands was found to have a strong connection with taking control of your own life. That was interesting, since you didn’t feel any sort of in-control – hence the over working and over cleaning.

You’d taken that aspect of the dream and decided that it meant that you felt you were out of control and being pulled in all directions.

Also, you couldn’t scream in your dream, probably because you felt that you couldn’t talk about your dream… You had so many feelings building up inside of you, but you couldn’t talk about any of it because there was really no one to talk to about it.

You didn’t want to bother Bucky, because he had his own issues to deal with. You refused to talk to your mother, after her comment about you failing your job. You didn’t have that many friends, and they all had their own lives to worry about. You didn’t know anyone in the tower well enough to talk to…

You stopped yourself from thinking further.

God, being tired made you so damn negative.

You shook the thoughts from your head, pouring yourself a coffee with an obscene amount of sugar. You lifted the warm mug to your nose, inhaling the sweet and bitter scent of the liquid gold.

Walking into the living area, you set your coffee on the end table and flopped onto the couch. You dug your phone out of your pocket, curled your legs up under your sweatshirt, and started reading a book on one of your apps.

You’d just gotten to a good part in the book when a voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey, what are you doing up at 3:30 in the morning?” Bucky’s deep voice came from behind you, making you jump in a small panic and drop your phone to your lap.

“Jesus!” Your hand flew to your heart, and you were thankful you were no longer holding your coffee. “Bucky, you need a little bell or something!” You glanced over at him, and your heart immediately fluttered. He’d clearly just gotten back from the gym. He was sweaty, wearing a pair of gym shorts and a tee shirt, with a water bottle in his hand and his hair pulled back. “Why are you up at 3:30 in the morning?”

“I asked you, first.” He smirked, lightly walking around the couch and sitting at the edge, by your feet. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, because you avoided my question as to why you were up so late, for one.” He raised an eyebrow, giving you a once over with his tired eyes, “And two, I can feel it.”

“You can feel it?” You snorted, shoving your phone in your pocket, “Really?”

“Must be a soulmate thing.” He bit his lip, looking down at his vibranium fingers and tracing along one of the plates in his thumb. “You’re giving off a vibe.”

“A vibe?” You frowned, wrapping your arms around your legs, “What kind of vibe?”

“Like you’re exhausted and panicked. It’s stronger at night.” He looked up at you with his beautiful blue eyes, pulling his brows together, “You know you can talk to me, if you want to, right? If it’s what I think it is, I understand what you’re going through.”

You sighed, laying your head to the side on the couch and closing your eyes, “I know I can… I just… don’t… I’m… I’m not good at talking about my own feelings.” You opened your eyes, but didn’t look at him, “I’m… having nightmares.”

He nodded in understanding, shoulders sagging. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No… Yes… I don’t know.” A wave of exhaustion takes over, and you pull your sweatshirt tighter around you. “I want to… but I don’t want to be a burden, or anything.”

“Hey. You’re not a burden, at all.” He looked at you with sincerity, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth, “I used to think the same thing, when I first got here… but we’re a team. All of us. You’re part of the team, too. We have your back, just as much as you have ours.” His eyes flicked back down to his hands, which were wringing together. “Plus… You’re my soulmate. I mean… I hope that… means enough for you to trust that… I would listen.”

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, and your cheeks heat up in a blush. “Thank you.” You yawn, pulling your sweatshirt further down, so your legs were completely covered – and you looked slightly like a turtle. “I trust you.”

“I’m glad.” He grinned, eyes crinkling a little bit. His smile was adorable. “So, what were you reading?”

You perk up, grabbing your phone back out of your pocket. “So, you know how I was telling you that I found a really amazing author? Ellen Hopkins?” You don’t wait for him to respond before you lean forward to show him your phone, shoulder very close to his. “Well, a lot of her books are technically ‘verse novels’ but look how they’re formatted! It’s so neat to read, and a lot easier than I thought it’d be! This one is called ‘Crank’. It’s a book about a girl who gets hooked on methamphetamines, and it’s really insane how-” You cut off and lean back a little. Bucky was staring at you with a starry-eyed expression. “What?”

“Nothing… You’re just… interesting.” He chuckled, clearing his throat and looking away. “You’re���”

“Amazing? Awesome? Astonishing? Stunning? Wonderful?” You supplied with a giggle, starting to feel a little jittery from the coffee. “Any of those words help you out?”

“You’re all of those.” He shook his head with a smile, heaving himself off the couch. “I need to go take a shower. Are you staying here?”

“I’m going to try and fall back to sleep… if I can. My alarm is supposed to go off in…” You looked at your watch. “An hour? Jesus Christ. Okay. I’m going to try and nap for an hour.”

“Come on, then.” He held out his hand – his flesh hand – and grinned. “Off to bed.”

You grab his warm, calloused hand, letting him pull you off the couch. You continued to hold his hand while you walked the short distance back to your room, and his thumb traced over the top of your smooth hand. The hall was quiet, and there were no signs of life around, so the only sounds were your bare feet against the hard floors. Not even Bucky was making a sound.

“You know, I know we haven’t exactly known each other that long,” He breaks the silence, after a few moments. “But if you can’t sleep, no matter what time of night it is, you can come talk to me. I don’t care what time it is, you can always come knock on my door. If it makes you feel better, I would feel better.” He gestured between you both, “Vibes, remember?”

“You and your vibes.” You snorted, stopping in front of your door. You turned, not letting go of his hand. “Thank you, Bucky. I mean it. It means a lot.”

He gently gave your hand a little squeeze, before letting go so you could open your door. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

“Night, Bucky.”

(PART 3)

A/N: Fear not! The parts will get longer! I just wanted to get the ball rolling!

TAGS:

WOMS tags:  @fangirlinacoffeeshopweshare @lucky-fic-recs @st0onehearted @artemis521 @darkheartvamp @shitty-imagines-95 @buckyflippinbarnes

FOREVER tags:  @luckynumber1213 @sassyandclassyx @mrsnegan25 @impossiblepizzapeace @glitterquadricorn @pigwidgexn  @iamnothereimnotlistening @saltymaddiee @ladyxred @pabegay1 @kgbrenner @nataliehasgrace @mellorine-paprika @i-just-wanna-run-hell @igiveupicantthinkofausername @goshdarnitthatsalongname @trashimaginezblog  @hermioneandluna @ssweet-empowerment @thefridgeismybestie @wildefire @httpmcrvel @geeksareunique @dottirose @whatmakesmebeme-tblr @breezy1415 @saltyy-fresh @artemis521 @usetheforce3434 @aparadoxstuff @iamwarrenspeace @gaining-confidence-for-life @come-with-me-and-imagine @courtneychicken @bettercallsabs

[novadreii]

a diatribe about the emotional unpacking i’ve been doing this summer, specifically regarding my anxiety, how it’s affected me, and how i’m trying to drop kick it in the face. 

i will be honest and say that this weekend i’ve been sitting with some mild anxiety. mild, but still there, enough to set off alarms. just this...undercurrent of fear about the future. i go back to school in exactly 1 month, and getting my degree means more to me than arguably anything right now. some of you have been watching me bitch about this for years, but i’m stubborn as fuck and refuse to let it go. it’s not about the status, or the diploma. it’s a struggle of significance for me; since 2012 i’ve wrestled on and off with my mental health and this made staying in school consistently impossible. so in 2015 i made the decision to not go back until i was properly ready. a lot has happened since then, but to make a long story short, i’ll never be more ready than i am now. finishing this means everything to me; it means digging my heels in, working hard, and earning something for myself. something that, for a long time, i really lost hope that i was even capable of achieving.

but as always, doubt always starts to creep once the deadline approaches: what if i fail again, what if i can’t handle it, what if i drop out and have to work boring low-level jobs my whole life, what if i panic, what if i can’t do it?

every piece of text on the subject that i’ve ever read, every meaningful message from all my favorite books/series, has pointed me towards this one solution for when i’m paralyzed with fear: just feel it, sit with it, don’t run from or avoid it. and once you’ve done that, go through your fear and do the thing you’re afraid of anyway. that’s called bravery, and if you repeat this process enough times it will give you the confidence to keep doing it in the face of anything you fear. how often have we heard that being brave is not synonymous with being fearless? fearless is a lofty concept, an ideal, but honey, it’s just not realistic. everybody has fears. the most incredible people throughout history had their own fears; what sets them apart is how they dealt with them. 

my methods for avoiding pain/fear these days are 1) weed 2) tv/video games in excess and 3) avoiding my responsibilities/doing anything that would progress my life. obviously this will not work out for me, not in a long-term sense anyway. 

so recently i’ve just....stopped using coping methods when i’m getting into my fear. i do anything other than my usual destructive habits. i force myself to clean in a frenzy, i listen to loud music on my headphones, i go for a walk around the block, i read a book, i’ve even forced myself to do boring paperwork that i was avoiding. i make a challenge out of forcing myself to do the exact opposite of what i really want to do in that moment.

and THAT’S where the magic happened for me. once i confront Fear and do it over and over and over again, it begins to lessen. i’ve done this before, and i survived. it wasn’t that bad. it was worth the effort it took to just deal with it. 

the truth is that everything in life is a trade-off. you can’t get anything you want without sacrificing something of equal value whether it’s money, time, energy, or any other resource. and on the flip side of that coin, you can’t just avoid your life and desires, not without paying for it emotionally. so logically speaking, if both paths are equally as difficult, if they take roughly the same amount (but a different TYPE) of effort, which one will i choose?

it’s become obvious to me now, whereas it wasn’t before, that i should choose the path with the end result that is most worth it for me. depressed bastard who never did anything with her life? or...who knows? someone who actually tried and maybe got SOME of what she wanted? so now that the two choices are so clear, i’m beginning to feel drive, determination, and ambition again. goddamn, i was born with those traits burned into my personality and identity; losing them temporarily during the last few years fucking hurt, i really did lose a part of myself. but they were just dormant, inactive, because i can feel them faintly taking root again. and it feels friggin amazing. 

so nowadays i’m practicing a new skill: willpower. i believe it is absolutely a skill that anyone can cultivate and work on. i realized that i can force myself to do shit i know i should be doing instead of running from my problems. knowing that i will feel so much better if i just address and overcome what is scaring me is enough to motivate me. i can do this without resistance, without wanting to go hide in my bad habits. my awareness (my true self, separate from ego), knows the right answers, the correct path. i can physically do what i know needs to be done even if my mind is screaming at me to self-destruct instead; i have that power, because i am not my mind. none of us are; we are the awareness behind the mind, so to speak. if this sounds too new-age for you, i’m sorry. but i’ve been reading books on the topic for years without understanding completely. it made about 75% sense to me up until now, and i found the missing piece. mindfulness, the Self, the Ego...it’s all interconnected, and i used to think it was more religious BS that I didn’t care for. but it really isn’t. it’s a logical approach to heal yourself emotionally, and it starts with recognizing that your internal dialogue, your thoughts, and even your emotions, do not make up who you are, so you don’t have to be a slave to them. i wish i could articulate this better, but i barely understood it myself when i first started researching the topic. but something inside me knew that the answer i’d been looking for was somewhere in this train of thought, so i’ve kept with it (if you’re interested, the one book I would recommend is the power of now by eckhart tolle. i know, i know. but it really is the most easily digestible medium for this subject. just know you will have to engage with it and put in the work to fully understand). 

so anyway, that’s what i did this weekend. no weed, no mindless distractions, no emotional eating, despite the low burning of fear about school in the back of my mind. i cleaned the shit out of the kitchen and my room instead, which was distracting and physically tiring. then because i still felt restless, i went for a jog. now i’m showered and tired, about to watch a movie that i feel i actually earned. i think Fear produces a nervous energy that i can dispel with any kind of physical activity, which takes the edge off and makes it bearable.  

and lo and behold, by not being destructive at the first sign of feeling afraid, i didn’t burst into flames or anything. sure, my heart rate might jump for a bit, i might feel a bit sweaty/nauseous for a couple minutes. but then i swallow it and continue on my path.  by going through Fear instead of doing a 180 away from it, i can continue moving forwards instead of backwards. i can grow and progress, not stagnate. and another hard lesson i’ve learned is that the stagnation from avoiding my life has arguably caused me the most pain, far more than the fear of life itself. 

i isolated myself from my friends (missing one of their weddings which i have to try to not beat myself up about for the rest of my life). i stalled in my education. i was cut off socially, emotionally because i was in denial, and going nowhere. 

so i think i’ve just reached a point where anything is better than this. than a lonely, unfulfilled future where i reach none of my potential. on my deathbed all i’d feel is profound disappointment. and to that idea my gut reaction is HELL NO. is this what they mean about actually hitting rock bottom, even though i felt like i’ve hit it countless times before?

because now, i am finally willing to fight for what i want even if it’s the hardest thing i’ll ever do. once school starts, my days are gonna be long as hell. work during the day, and schoolwork on evenings/weekends, so logistically i need to make my life flow to accommodate how hectic my schedule will become. i’ll do so with the following steps:

gonna clean my apartment and car to stepford-levels of cleanliness (in progress, about 50% done). will also go on an organizing spree. i’m generally a neat person, but it could always be better you know? my state of mind is usually amplified by the state of my surroundings, so that’s one of the best ways to help myself.

gonna stock up on non-perishables/cat supplies/toiletries to keep effort spent on grocery shopping and errands to a minimum from september to december. 

gonna nail down a healthy meal prep routine so i can properly fuel my carcass through everything. cereal for dinner won’t cut it anymore.

in general, i will develop solid self-care routines in the areas of sleep, fitness (will work in occasional exercise where i can to let off steam), food, and giving myself mental breaks. again, this will keep me from losing my shit. 

this is my 4 point plan, and notice how little of it has to do with school itself. but i know that if i take care of myself properly, i can ground myself enough to get through anything. 

studying, homework, going to class, the pressure of exams...i feel confident, finally, that i can take all of it on. in fact, i’m starting to feel my old competitive spark slowly coming to life again, and i’m tempted to say bring it on.

and sure, Fear isn’t going anywhere. i haven’t vanquished it or anything. far from it; it’s still right there, making my chest tight when it gets really bad. but what’s changed is that i’m not afraid of Fear itself anymore. that is a huge distinction i’ve had to make, and it’s taken me years to get here. it’s much easier to do The Thing and confront Fear while doing so, rather than avoid both The Thing and Fear altogether. because that way of life was miserable for me, whereas option 1 will actually yield results. and weirdly enough...avoiding Fear doesn’t even make you like, less afraid or anything. what the hell?

so, after years of struggling and cowering and letting myself off easy for everything, it’s that simple. i’ve boiled my approach down to something weirdly logical and direct, because i’m over this shit, to put it elegantly. i will enthusiastically and unabashedly go after what i want in life, and when Fear inevitably pops up on occasion, as it always will, i’ll acknowledge it with a nod or a small dab (lol), and then continue doing what i was doing. i can be afraid without letting it paralyze me. fear isn’t really able to stop my body from doing what i want it to, i can actually smash my way through that mental barrier. i think that is what is at the core of the concept of bravery, and anybody is capable of it (yes i got that from soul eater, a life-changing message). 

so i simultaneously feel insanely motivated and driven for the first time in years, and also scared as shit. it’s the strangest feeling, a kind of nervous euphoria. but it’s okay. knowing that if i just trust the process and take things a day at a time, i will get to where i want to be eventually; that makes it so much easier. in my mind, this lends incredible significance to every little step along this journey. keeping good work habits and taking care of myself are what it’s going to take, and truly understanding that every Good thing i do for myself, even the tiniest thing, is what will get me there one day. it removes resistance from my thought process, and resistance is usually what gets me to cave, and run away. it makes every difficult, necessary step worth it to me, and that is what fuels me.  

so ultimately, my conclusion is this: i’m just going to have to get strong enough to carry my fear with me throughout the whole journey and use it to fuel me, instead of letting it pin me in one place for the rest of my life. and that’s the thing: invariably, over time, the relative burden of that weight decreases as you get stronger. 

so knowing that, how could i not just charge forward like a maniac, fear be damned? because the truth is that i can overcome it in the present moment with enough effort, and in time, it won’t take anywhere near the same amount of effort. pain is always temporary, so i don’t need to fear it right? i just have to use pain, and Fear of pain, and that’s the promise i’m making to myself as i attempt to close an unpleasant chapter in my life. 

i’m finally getting back my drive, my spark, when for so long i just tried to convince myself i didn’t actually want the things that i did. i thought that my goals were unobtainable, that i was too weak or incompetent to achieve them, so i may as well convince myself i didn’t even want them in the first place. isn’t that sad? it really is, and i’m trying to reflect on Past Me with compassion, instead of frustration for all the lost time and unhappiness. it won’t change anything, and i want nothing more than to move forward. because one day, it will all have been worth it.