#maybe the real Stanley cup is the Friends we made along the way

[emuchipmunk]

32 | Seattle Kraken x Chasing You - Patrick Droney

[gaysidneycrosby]

maybe the real stanley cup was the friends we made along the way

[churchofrileytanev]

maybe the real stanley cup was the friends we made along the way :)

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 24 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: This is it. This is the last chapter before the finale. I only cried like three times writing this so...take that to mean what you will. 

Warnings: cursing, smut (oral, unprotected, soft)

Word Count: 3,275

~~~~

With only two and a half weeks before the Avs training camp started, your life felt like a whirlwind once again as you prepared for this next adventure with Cale. There was the paperwork...you’d never seen so much paperwork in your life. There was everything you needed to figure out with leaving your house empty for months on end: setting up a good security system, arranging for snow care for the winter months, purchasing a firebox large enough to hold your quilt and the few other super precious items you had that you weren’t willing to risk. 

And then there was the packing. Though you knew you wouldn’t need much, just clothes, some personal items, maybe a few books, it still felt like a massive undertaking. And it wasn’t until you had taped the final box shut that all of this felt real. You were leaving your life in Calgary to start a new one in Denver. 

In the midst of everything else, you’d said goodbye to Taylor as he got on a plane to Massachusetts for his first season at UMass Amherst, following in Cale’s footsteps. Then there was the party Laura and Gary hosted, family and close friends sending you well wishes for a Stanley Cup season and the start of your lives together. Your coworkers had also thrown you a party of sorts, wishing you safe travels and happiness in your new position. 

It was all overwhelming, you were excited and sad and a bevy of other emotions that came with big changes like this. So when you stepped foot in your house the night before you were sending Cale off on a flight to Denver with you following behind the following morning by car, you immediately paused when the smell of food cooking reached your nose.  

Setting your purse and the box from your office down, you followed the scent to find Cale standing over the stove in the kitchen, dressed down in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You’re making dinner?” You whispered softly, stepping into his side as he lifted his arm to wrap around you. 

“It’s our last night here...at least for awhile.” Cale shrugged. “Thought we should make the most of it.” Kissing his cheek, you wiped away the lone tear that had fallen as you moved to pour the remainder of the bottle of wine left in the fridge into glasses. “Why don’t you get changed and then head outside, I’ve got this.” Cale insisted, looking over at you, expression soft. 

“Okay.” You agreed, setting the glasses down before heading into your bedroom to slip into some loungewear. It was hard to believe that you only had two more nights in this house before you’d be leaving it behind. Of course you’d be back, if not while Cale was on a roadtrip or at Christmas time, then next summer for sure. It was still a bittersweet feeling, this house becoming exactly what you’d hoped it would be, a summer oasis. 

Grabbing the glasses of wine as you passed through the kitchen, you made your way outside. You’d already moved all of the outdoor furniture down into the basement, so like your first night in the house, you settled yourself back against the wall, looking out across the yard. 

It wasn’t long before Cale was handing a plate down to you before settling in beside you, his knee knocking against your own. 

“This brings back memories.” He chuckled, sending you a warm smile. “How are you doing?” He then asked, his hand reaching down to lace with your own for a moment. 

“I’m a little overwhelmed.” You admitted. “Change is hard even if it’s good change, so just bear with me okay?” This was the first time you were going to live anywhere other than Calgary and it was just a lot to process even if you were looking forward to it. 

“Whatever you need.” Cale assured you, his hand squeezing yours. “I know this has all been a lot and I reaffirm my statement that you’re superwoman because you’re handling it all with so much grace. So if you need to cry or scream or anything else, all of those feelings are valid and understandable.” 

Though Cale’s hand released your own so that you could actually eat, his body remained in close contact, his knee occasionally bumping yours lightly and his arm pressed close to your side. You didn’t talk much as you ate, but occasionally Cale would throw out a ‘remind me to show you this’ or ‘I need to take you to…’. You knew that it was his subtle way of trying to get you to focus on the excitement of the move rather than the sadness and it was beyond appreciated. 

When you’d both finished, Cale took your plate and stacked it with his beside him. He then pulled you closer to his side, draping his arm over your shoulder as his lips grazed against the top of your head. 

“You know you’re welcome to fly back home whenever you want.” He whispered. “Whether I’m on the road or not. If you get too homesick you can always come back.” 

“I know.” You breathed, just taking in the stillness of this moment with him and the way it contrasted to everything else you’d been feeling recently. 

“You’re still sure about this right?” He asked, vulnerability seeping through. Turning your head you brushed your fingers along his jaw, nodding slightly. 

“Home is wherever you are Cale. Yes this house holds so many memories already, but it also holds dreams of the future, dreams of a future with you. So yes I’m sure. It’s time to move to Denver, to build a life with you so that when we come home next summer maybe some of those dreams can come true.” 

“I have no doubt they will.” Cale murmured. “If not next summer then the summer after or the summer after that. We’ve got nothing but time sweet girl and all I want is to make all of your dreams come true.” 

“I love you.” You whispered, laying your head back down onto Cale’s shoulder. 

“Love you too sunshine.” Cale replied, his fingers brushing over your skin as the two of you watched the sun start to slowly sink beyond the horizon. When the pretty pinks and oranges and blues disappeared, you pushed yourself to your feet before bending to pick up the empty wine glasses. 

Cale followed you inside, locking the door behind you, and the two of you moved through the kitchen, washing the dinner dishes in unison. When the kitchen was clean and dishes were put away, you turned to Cale, tucking yourself against his chest. 

“Will you make love to me?” You requested. “Like you did our first night here?” Cale’s shoulders dipped and his eyes swelled with his own tears at your words. 

“Yeah sweetheart. Of course I will.” He agreed. “But if you want it like that first night, does that mean I have to wear a condom?” His words reached their intended goal of making you giggle, and you shook your head at him. 

“I think you know the answer to that, you dork.” Guiding him back to the bedroom, you kissed him softly, pouring all of the love you felt for him into that one kiss. Just like that first night, Cale’s hands slowly pulled your shirt off of your body and pushed your shorts over your hips. 

Then he laid you down in the center of the bed, his mouth repeating the trails his hands had made. You couldn’t help but shiver under his touch because just like that first night, he was making you feel so so wanted and loved. 

“My beautiful girl.” Cale breathed, his mouth peppering kisses up along your right arm until he reached your wrist laying limply beside your head. “You’re all I want.” He murmured, his lips featherlight on your pulse point. “You’re all I need.” He added after repeating the action along your left arm. When his lips trailed up further, pressing against your left ring finger, you felt your heart stop and then start, pounding heavily in your chest. “Gonna make you my wife someday.” He promised, placing two more soft kisses to the same spot before turning his head to kiss you gently but deeply. 

As he kissed you, Cale’s fingers slipped behind your back to undo your bra, easing the fabric off of you and onto the floor. “God I love you.” He whispered, his gaze lidded as he peered down at you beneath him. Taking just a moment to pull his shirt off over his head, Cale dropped down your body, latching onto your breasts until your nipples were pebbled and hard. It wasn’t until he felt you shiver from that action, that he dipped between your thighs, sliding your underwear down over your hips. 

“Just relax and let go for me tonight sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of you.” He swore, his lips teasing lightly over your stomach as his thumb slipped between your legs to rub circles against your clit. “You’re always so wet for me.” Cale hummed happily, grinning up at you as first one then two fingers pressed inside you, his thumb not losing rhythm for even a moment. 

“Look at me sweet girl.” Cale breathed as he kissed the inside of each of your thighs. “I want you to watch me as I make you fall apart, okay.” Again, just like that first night, there was no rush to any of his movements. The only difference now was that he knew your body better, knew exactly what would make you cum. 

With his long fingers brushing your g-spot each time they curled against your slick walls, it wasn’t long before you were whining, your hips arching off the bed. 

“Eyes on me love.” Cale reminded, alerting you to the fact that your eyes had fluttered closed. Looking down at him again, you saw the smirk on his face as he scissored his fingers. “Let go sweet girl.” Cale urged, his thumb picking up its pace against your swollen clit. 

A breathless gasp spilled from your throat as Cale pulled your orgasm from you, working you through it with precision, a skill he’d gained over the course of your relationship. Sliding his fingers from you, he lifted them up to your lips, urging you to lick your fluids off them. You did taste sweet, just like Cale had said that first night, but having tasted the two of you together before, you couldn’t help but miss that taste in comparison. Once his hand was clean, he settled back above you, his tongue diving into your mouth as he kissed you. 

“I love watching you cum for me.” Cale murmured, his hips grinding down on yours gently. “So beautiful.” He smirked, dimples showing as he lowered himself down your body for a second time, this time wrapping his hands around your thighs as he ducked down to swipe his tongue through your folds. 

“Cale. Fuck.” You whimpered, your hips rolling down against his face. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, Cale’s mouth on your core was almost too much and he finally had to drape an arm over your waist to keep you still against him. 

“Give me another.” He mumbled, pulling back to breathe. “Cum for me again sweetheart.” His head dove back into your core, his tongue slipping inside of you and though you tried to keep watching him, eventually your vision blurred and your head fell back against the pillows as a second orgasm tore through your body. 

Even as you cursed and attempted to shove at Cale’s head because it was all too much, he continued to devour you, drawing a sharp third orgasm from your body that you hadn’t expected. You were heaving by the time Cale pulled away, his face soaked with your fluids. 

“Holy fuck Cale.” You gasped, your body tingling from head to toe. Cale climbed off the bed for just a moment, dipping into the bathroom for a washcloth to wipe his face on before he settled back in beside you, his hard length poking at your hip. 

“You just squirted sweet girl…” He stated causing your eyes to go wide. You knew that that orgasm had felt different but you hadn’t realized why, but now heat was flooding your cheeks as you threw a hand over your face. 

“Hey...don’t hide from me.” Cale insisted, lacing his hand with yours as he pulled it away and turned your head so that he could kiss you. “Was hot as hell. Totally going to aim to repeat that next time I go down on you.” The cocky look on his face backed up his words but you still buried your head into his shoulder for a moment as he rolled back on top of you. 

When he tilted your head up to his again, he cupped the entire side of your face in his palm, his thumb smoothing over your skin. 

“Y/N...c’mon…” He breathed. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. I wanted you to give into me completely and you did just that. Frankly you stroked my ego by cumming that hard all over me.” He teased, his lips teasing over yours gently. “So relax sweet girl. Let me make love to you properly.” 

“You’re something else.” You declared, shaking your head. “And I love you for it.” You added, pulling him down into another soft kiss. 

“Love you too sunshine, more than you know.” Cale replied, shifting backward to shed his remaining clothing. As he settled back over you, he reached for one of the spare pillows you kept near the bed, sliding it under your hips. “Let me know if you like this angle.” He mumbled, kissing you again as he ground his hips against yours, his dick sliding along your folds. 

Finally, he lined himself up, his tip just teasing at your entrance. The way he was making you wait was driving you crazy and you attempted to roll your hips up into his, pouting when he stopped you. 

“Relax sweet girl. Just feel.” He whispered as his thumb brushed over your lips, forcing you to stop pouting. “Feel the slight pressure of me against you. Focus on the feel of me sliding inside you. Don’t rush, just relax and enjoy.” With your eyes locked on his deep blue ones, you took a deep breath and just settled into the way he felt above you, the weight of him, the faint pressure of him where you needed him most. 

Slowly...slower than ever before, Cale slipped inch by inch inside of you, pausing along the way. The slow drag of him against your walls made you whimper because you could feel each and every ridge of him as he moved. 

“Oh!” You gasped, watching as his face twisted in pleasure responding in turn to your noises. Everything he was doing felt impossibly languid and as he finally settled inside of you fully, you could barely breathe due to the intensity of it all. 

“Shit sweetheart...I can feel you fluttering around me already.” Cale grunted, his tongue slipping out from between his lips. “You’re so warm...feels so good.” With your hips tilted up, he was nestled deeply inside of you, but not uncomfortably so and you felt so full. 

“Cale…” You pleaded, fresh sweat forming in droplets all over your skin. In response to his name, Cale started slowly rolling and grinding his hips against yours, his mouth pressing against yours as the heat grew between you. The slow, lazy pace allowed you to feel every single thing. And not just the way he felt inside you, you could feel the flex of his thighs as he moved, the fine hairs of his happy trail brushing against your stomach, the way the sweat dripped down from his body onto yours. 

In a way, the lack of sensation had sent you into sensory overload and as you moaned out that you were going to cum, Cale’s pubic bone ground down against your clit and you immediately clung to him as your fourth orgasm of the night flooded over you leaving you gasping for breath. The intensity of sensation was only increased when as you started to come down, you heard Cale moan your name as he spilled inside of you, pumping you full of his semen. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You repeated like a mantra as Cale settled more of his weight on top of you, having lost some of the strength in his arms. Carding your fingers through his hair, you felt your body go limp with exhaustion. Sex with Cale was one thing, but making love was truly something else entirely and it left you spellbound each and every time. 

“I don’t know how, but this gets better every single time.” You muttered, your fingers sliding down along Cale’s back. 

“It’s because it’s you.” Cale’s voice was muffled by the pillow but you heard him loud and clear and you nodded, brushing your nose against his temple. 

“It’s us.” You agreed. “You good hun?” You questioned, not used to Cale being so out of it after sex. 

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Just gimme a minute.” 

“Take your time.” You assured him. Though you knew you needed to separate and clean up, the feeling of him inside you, your thighs burning from the awkward position, was beyond welcome. This was your future. More nights like this. More nights without sex, just cuddled together in the bed you’d share. This was worth all of the stress, all of the sadness, this was why you were moving to Denver. He was why you were moving to Denver. 

And though you had to change the sheets before falling asleep that night, tossing all evidence of your lovemaking into the washing machine, the feelings lingered inside of you and those feelings were all you needed to get through the next few days. 

You went with Cale to get his things and to say both of your goodbyes to his parents, because frankly you couldn’t handle two sets of goodbyes. Both Laura and Gary had hugged you tightly, whispering for you to take care of Cale and to let him take care of you, reminding you that they were only a phone call and/or a plane ride away. 

You’d cried as you left their driveway to take Cale to the airport and you’d cried as you saw him off even though you’d see him in less than 72 hours. You’d cried as you treated yourself to dinner at your favorite restaurant and as you ate a pint of ice cream in the exact spot you and Cale had said your first ‘I love you’s’. You’d cried as you crawled into your bed for the final time alone and you’d cried as you loaded all of your boxes into the car. You’d cried as you did one final check over everything before locking up and climbing into the driver’s seat, sixteen hours of driving ahead of you. 

But by the time you had pulled out of your neighborhood the tears had stopped. Blue skies were there to guide you to Denver, to Cale, to the rest of your life. The changes you were making were big, but they were good...the best. And as you listened to your song play over the radio you realized that you couldn’t wait to find out what other changes awaited you in Denver. 

[incorrectbroadstreetbullies]

Kevin Hayes: Maybe the real Stanley Cup was the friends we made along the way.

Claude Giroux: fuck you. i want my trophy.

[zimtchai]

maybe the real Stanley Cup was the friends we made along the way

[halo-jpeg]

Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 3

Eddie stood looking at himself in the mirror. The sky outside of his window was darkening, on the brink of sunset right near 6:30 pm. He was dressed in what he considered his 'party clothes', or at least the closest thing he could find- he wore a brown plaid button-up tee with a darker brown v-neck sweater, finally finished off with a pair of khaki pants. It was nothing special, really, but it was probably the most, as Bill had put it, 'chillax' thing he currently owned. Living with his mother, Eddie had grown used to wearing what she bought him and only what she bought him, which only consisted of simple tees, polo shirts and, of course, his occasional button-up. The sweater he currently wore had been a gift from Stan for his 18th birthday- he has gotten a similar one for his 19th as wel.

"St-Stan? Eddie? Ruh-ready to go?" Bill's voice echoed through the house, snapping Eddie from the odd trance he'd fallen into, staring right into his own reflection. Right, of course- he had a party to go to.

"Coming!" He called, and was just about to turn and leave the room when his eye was caught by an object on the surface of his dresser- It was his inhaler. For a moment, Eddie stared, and felt as if it were calling to him. He hadn't used it for months until the fight with his mother, and already he had vowed not to use it again. He'd been trying to shake the habit of using it just as he had started faking swallowing his old placebos; sadly, however, the effects of his false-asthma still kicked in so hard he had to take a puff or two. Eddie's lungs felt tight with anxiety at the idea of this stupid party, and he only debated for one more moment before grabbing the inhaler and jamming it into his pocket, just in case. He was quick to join his two friends, and they both set off- umbrellas in tow- into the now-starting rain.

***

It had been approximately 10 seconds and Eddie was fighting back over stimulation. Shit, he hasn't even knocked on the apartment door yet, and the booming, thumping music with it's impossibly heavy base was already putting him on edge. Stan was close to his side, Bill just a few paces ahead, and though he was more than grateful for their comforting, familiar presence he was terrified. Eddie didn't know these people. He was walking into a strangers home. He'd seen horror movies, he knows what happens in big, crowded parties with alcohol and hormonal teens and what happens is they get slashed by a serial killer. Maybe it was just paranoia, but Eddie was already wishing he could turn tail and flee. Bill, Stan and he stopped in front of the door belonging to the source of the noise, and that anxiety in the pit of his stomach tripled, if that was even something that could happen at this point. Eddie tried his very best to suck in deep breaths, but they came in with a slight whistle and made his chest ache.

"Ready?" Stan said, quickly straightening out the collar of his navy dress shirt, passing a quick glance and a warm smile in Eddie's direction, "It'll be okay, Eddie, you can stick by our side the whole time." Eddie nodded his head, clasping his hands nervously together in front of him. Bill gripped the door handle, giving it a twist and pushing it wide open. Ah, yes- Eddie hates this, indeed.

"Oh, no..." The words were spoken mostly to himself, drowned out almost entirely by the speakers throbbing throughout the house. It was dark, the only illumination coming from colorful fairy lights strung high above everyone's heads. The place was packed with moving, dancing bodies, red solo cups held in the hands of nearly everyone. Eddie could see glow sticks wrapped around wrists and hanging from necks, and even spotted a woman in a too-short dress clashing lips with a man in a Letterman jacket. Before he really could give in a flee, a hand was set gently on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see Bill grinning down at him, his eyes alight with a mixture of excitement and concern. The question didn't need to be spoken for Eddie to know that Bill was nervous for him. With a simple shake of his head, Eddie dismissed his worries and motioned with one hand for the redhead to lead the way.

"Hey!" Before any of the three could move an all-too familiar voice rang through, slicing through the sounds of the party and calling all attention in that direction, "My dear friends, you made it!" Richie pushed past a few people on his route to the trio, his cheek-splitting grin even wider than usual and clearly under the slight influence of alcohol.

"Hey, Ruh-Richie! Thanks for inviting u-us, this is... a bigger puh-party then I've ever been to in my li-life!" Bill extended a hand for Richie to shake, and the host was quick to accept it with the one hand that wasn't harboring another one of those red cups. Eddie caught a glimpse of a dark liquid, along with the smell of booze and citrus.

"It sure is something," Stan agreed with a nod, and Richie gleamed with pride.

"Can I get you three some drinks? They may or may not be spiked. We also have, uh... grass, if that's any of your styles." Before Richie could be judged (Eddie was just about to scold him for drug use) he tacked on, "It's not my type of thing but I wouldn't mind if it was yours!" He started to laugh along with Bill, even Stan letting out a small chuckle, but Eddie was still hugely unimpressed with this all. Much to his demise, Stan the Polite had to go and agree to the drinks. Before he could protest, Richie was leading the way directly into the throng of people towards a kitchen. It was miserable. Dancers blocked the way to their desired destination, meaning the group had to push right through them. Not only was it impolite, but these teenagers were also drunk and disgusting. Eddie was trying so hard not to be so uptight, at least for one night, but he just couldn't do it. He pulled his arms into himself and braved the traverse, wincing as he began to attempt to weave through. He was pushed from all sides, sworn at by one rowdy man who he had accidentally bumped into and winked at by a drunken girl dancing with her friends. Though it was only momentary, it felt like centuries past where he was drowning among these bodies, afraid and struggling to breathe. Then, just like that, he was free on the other side, still right beside his two friends and the host who was bringing this treachery into his life.

"Quite the crowd," Eddie grumbled to Stan, both Richie and Bill failing to overhear. Stanley smiled and bumped Eddie gently with his elbow, yet again delivering a small form of reassurance. The kitchen was emptier than the rest of the house, but there were still a fair amount of party goers within it. Among them, Eddie recognized Mike leaned on the counter at the far end with two other kind-enough looking people- he also recognized these two from the coffee shop where they'd met Richie. A tall, sturdy man leaned against one wall, watching with obvious heart eyes as a redheaded girl seated on the counter chattered away about one thing or another. Right at their side sat a massive punch bowl, half empty but with plenty of other bottles of soda and alcohol around it to refill later if need be.

"Heya, you three," Richie greeted them with a smile and a wave, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Stan, Bill and Eddie, "I'm sure you all remember these guys." Richie spun on his heel, leaning his back against the counter and beginning introductions, "This is Bill, Stan and Eddie; and this is Beverly, Ben a Mike. Shake hands, maybe share a kiss, and give me another damn cup of punch." Eddie did none of the above, even when Bill moved forwards to do the first option. He shook hands with each new person in turn, and said his courteous 'nice to meet you'. Even Stan spoke up with a greeting and a small wave. Sure, Eddie felt like an antisocial asshole but he was having enough trouble keeping his asthma in check without touching a bunch of strangers. Speaking of his asthma, yeah, sure, it wasn't real or whatever but right now it sure felt like it was.

"Care for a drink?" Beverly hopped down from the counter, motioning towards the stack of unused cups there for the taking.

"Y-Yeah, hell yeah," Bill responded with a smile, "What... whu-what is it?"

"It smells rank," Stan grabs a cup, leaning over and staring down into the bubbling liquid, "I'd love some."

"This, my good friends, is what I call my 'Tozier Juice'- Orange juice, ginger ale, and lots and lots of alcohol, courtesy of Haystack over here," Richie patted Ben on the shoulder, sending him a friendly grin that much resembled the ones that Eddie and his two best friends shared- it was that of a close bond built on top of years and years of memories.

"Th-that actually doesn't suh-sound too bad," Both Stan and Bill helped themselves to the drink, and then they turned to Eddie. Both seemed to know that he wouldn't be interested, but a cup was offered by Bill either way. "Sh-sure you don't want any? Not even just a glass?"

"Fuck no, I don't want to ruin my liver- or my heart, or brain or-" A sharp intake of breath, it hurts,"-pancreas, for that matter. Did you know drinking too much can increase your blood pressure? Have you ever heard of a stroke?" Eddie crossed his arms, the muscles in his shoulders tensing just at the thought of what this alcohol could do to him. He could drink too much, just a little too much, and then that would be it for him. He'd collapse to the floor and he'd die right here and now. "Plus, if my mom ever found out she would kill me, like literally-"

"Hey, calm yourself, Eduardo," Suddenly, Richie's arm is sliding over his shoulders, pulling him close, too close, to that mass of tangled dark hair that could possibly be housing every louse on the planet, "This is a party, you don't have to follow mamma's rules!" Eddie shoved himself away with a grimace, his lungs closing tighter in on themselves. The contact was too close, Richie was too strange, and now Eddie was only growing more and more frightened and uncomfortable.

"Don't touch me, Richie! Jesus, that's-" Eddie shudders, his breath catching in his throat. He can feel anxiety building in his throat, climbing upwards and begging to be let out in a scream or something of the sort. Eddie hugged himself tightly, scrambling away from Richie and closer to Stan and Bill.

"Wow, Jesus, I-" Richie laughed nervously, and Eddie watched him exchange a curious glance with Stan, who only waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, I, uh... I guess. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything." Without returning an answer, Eddie glued his gaze to the floor, feeling heat rise up his neck and into his cheeks. Now, tension hung in the air like a shroud and it was because of him. Shit. He didn't mean to ruin everything. For a minute, and then two then three then a whole fourth, no one spoke, simply sipping at their drinks and listening to the deafening music. With each second that ticked by Eddie's throat closed tighter.

"So," Beverly broke the absence of speaking first, her voice raised to overpower that music that was still so loud, so fucking loud, throat tight, head pounding, "Tell me about yourselves. Rich tells me you're going to the same Uni as us? What classes do you have?" Bill took a sip from his 'Tozier Juice', and then responded in a voice just as loud as hers- he was too loud, now, too. His words begin to blend together into a collective hum, nothing but an indecipherable murmur as Eddie held himself tighter- he could hardly breathe, oh it hurt- The weight in his pocket was tempting, so tempting, and he wanted nothing more than to pull it out and take a puff, even if it was just sugar and water. The only thing stopping him was Stan and Bill on his either side, because they were against the placebo, they were trying to wean him off of it. Overpowering that murmur now was a sharp ringing, only pierced by the sound of collective laughter, too loud, suffocating. Eddie's face drained of it's colour, and no one seemed to notice. Can't breathe. He felt frozen, all of a sudden, rooted in place as if left in the cold for too long. He couldn't move his arms, his legs, and now his throat was growing tighter. He snapped his mouth open, fighting to suck in a breath- all at once, the sound came rushing back and it was all just too overwhelming. Eddie was gasping, fighting, snapping from his trance as all air fails to rush into his lungs. All eyes turn to him, Bill, Stan, Richie, Ben, Beverly, Mike- everyone is staring at him, looking at him, as he stumbles to the counter, his legs threatening to give out, Ben hurrying out of the way as Eddie almost falls right into him. The asthma attack was so sudden, so powerful- he had reached that tipping point, and gone tumbling right over the edge. Now, his throat was swollen shut, his head was pounding, that ringing was loud and the music was louder.

"Sh-shit, Eddie!" Bill was the first one to arrive at his side, and then everyone else. Every fucking person was surrounding him. He clutched onto the counter, still gasping, face paler than a sheet as he desperately fought against his reflexes. One powerful half of his mind screamed GRAB YOUR FUCKING INHALER EDDIE GRAB IT OR YOU'LL DIE YOU'LL SUFFOCATE RIGHT HERE AND- while the other half was shouting not to because then he was failing and when you fail you disappoint and he doesn't want to be any more of a disappointment than he already is. He gasps, sputters, grits his teeth and fights to reopen his throat but it won't cooperate. Strangers gazes bear into his back. He's the center of attention. His throat his shut like a vice.

"Eddie, hey, you okay?" Stan was there, a hand on his shoulder but that was too much, this was all too much and he didn't know what to do to stop it to stop the pain and the fear and the suffocation and he can't breathe.

"Hey hey hey hey, what's happening Eds? What's wrong, what can I do?" Richie was here now too, stupid annoying Richie with his caring tone and the hand he sets on Eddie's. Just like the too-loud laughter had been what sent him over the metaphorical cliff edge towards an asthma attack, this overload of contact had been him hitting the icy waters below. Without a second thought he burst upright, both Stan and Richie falling away, and ripped his inhaler from his pocket. He pulled off the cap and stuck it between his lips, pressing the button on the top and sucking in the breath with a sudden jolt. Air passed, a minute amount, and he needed another puff, and then, finally, a third. Each one rocked through his body, trailing with it relief, euphoria, burning through his veins, his throat, down into his lungs until- he let out a gasp as the inhaler left his mouth and felt the guilt rapidly push the good feelings away. The entire group had gone silent again, until Bill stepped forwards to place a hand on Eddie's arm.

"A-Are you okay now, Eddie? Did it help?" His tone probably wasn't meant to be condescending, but that was the only emotion Eddie could get from it. No, Bill, I'm not okay and I'll never be okay because my mom fucked me up big time, Bill, is what he wanted to say but he didn't get the chance because now Stan was on his other side with that sickly sweet concern that Eddie doesn't really deserve and they probably don't really mean.

"Can I get you water? Anything?" Eddie was quick to shake his head. Stan sucked in a slow breath, and let it out in a shudder. From his peripherals, Eddie caught the sight of him and Bill sharing a glance. He didn't miss the way Stan's lips quirked down into a frown, or the feeling of Bill just slightly shrugging one shoulder. He hadn't even been here for twenty minutes and Eddie was done. They were disappointed in him. He could sense it. Jamming his inhaler back into his pocket, he shook off both hands and set off to who knows where. He didn't know this apartment and he didn't give a shit. He needed to find a bathroom, a bedroom, a balcony, a something to get him as far away from the noise as possible. He hears them calling after him, Bill and Stan and maybe Richie too but the music swallows him whole as he pushes into the crowd towards what he thinks is a door to outside. He pushes, uncaring in it's entirety, needing to get out, away, to suck in the fresh air. His lungs feel tight again, but not as tight as before and he refuses to use his inhaler. He breaks free from the crowd and lets out a wheeze of a huff, falling into the door and shoving it open and closed as quick as possible.

Just like that, it is calm. With one shoulder against the glass he can feel the reverberation, the bass shaking the building in it's place. It's quieter now, faint enough that he can feel thoughts swimming around like panicked fish. Eddie pushes off of the door and staggers towards the railing, letting himself lean on it despite what his mother would say. You're so high up, Eddie-bear, don't lean like that or you'll fall! You'll tumble right down all six floors and then you'll be done for! The mother in his mind continued on about something else, about him not loving her enough to take care of himself, about why does he hate her? What did she do for him to treat her like this? But he pushes those thoughts away and locks them in a tight little box so he doesn't burst into tears. For the first time he realizes that the rain is heavier now, pouring down in steady, thrumming sheets, blotting out the streetlights below and further muffling that music. The smell of petrichor and lightning fell around him, probing in through his open mouth and cleansing his lungs of the placebo. It was soothing, so much so that his eyes fell shut and his head tipped back. He let the utter pleasure of the weather soak into his skin, the chill biting at the tips of his nose and ears. He could catch a cold, his mother warns from inside his head, but he locks those thoughts up even tighter and tells himself he doesn't give a shit. With each deep, rain-tasting breath his lungs give way a little more until it's clear again. A few minutes pass of deep breathing, exercises he's learned through the years. Calm washes over him and now he doesn't mind the distant heartbeat of the bass. Time seeps by slowly and he doesn't mind it.

Behind him, the door opens, and the tension sets in again.

"What do you want?" Eddie's voice is cold. He doesn't know who it is, assuming it's Bill or Stan and hating that he's not right. The music grows louder and then fades again as the door opens and shuts.

"Hey, Eds," Richie shatters his peace with a tentative tone, and then he's there at his side leaning against the railing.

"Don't call me that."

"I, uh... I wanted to say sorry." The rain thrums on. Richie stands at his side. Eddie hates this party. "I... I didn't know..." Richie struggles to find the right words. The rain sounds like static, buzzing, hissing, calming. Richie should leave Eddie to enjoy this peace but he doesn't. "I didn't mean for this to happen." A heartbeat passes in time with the bass. Eddie finally answers, his words quiet, clipped, cold.

"Get lost, Richie." Richie doesn't. Instead, his movements slow, careful, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two things- a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter. He doesn't waste his time offering one to Eddie, simply lights one for himself and takes a deep, sluggish inhale. All is quiet except for the static and the heartbeat of the bass. With an unwanted wave of vulnerability, Eddie feels his eyes begin to sting. The ocean inside of his stomach, tossing and turning and churning is made of liquid guilt. He feels horrible for failing Stan, for failing Bill, for ruining the party they'd both been so excited for. Richie takes another drag, letting out a cloud of smoke that's ripped away, sent spiraling, by the beating rain. As the party rages on just feet away, Richie stays with Eddie instead of leaving him to join back in on the fun. Eddie hates that he feels gratitude. Minutes pass, and the rain washes away the last traces of warmth. Before he knows it, Eddie is shivering, a gentle tremble that might have less to do with the cold and more to do with how exhausting it is to withhold his stinging tears.

"Here," Richie slides one arm out of his black button-up, passes his cigarette to his now free hand, and then liberates the other. Without asking, he moves towards Eddie, placing the thin fabric around his shoulders to provide as much warmth as possible. Richie returns to his place from before. A few more moments pass when Eddie finally finds the stability to answer.

"Thank you." His cheeks glow pink in the pale, black light, but Richie smiles anyways and simply nods his head. With his lungs clear and that warm gratitude calming the tidal waves of regret, he speaks in a low, quiet, shaking tone. "It seems you can keep your mouth shut, hmm?" This time, Richie laughs, a light chuckle that blends with the bass and the static in a perfect way.

"I'm making a special exception, Eddie. Don't take it for granted." Richie bites on his cigarette. He lets out another cloud of smoke. The rain slices it apart. "But, hey," Leaning on one elbow and glancing Eddie's way through his thick-framed glasses, Richie looks almost nice, "I really am sorry. If I'd known you would been stressed or over stimulated or whatever, I would have warned you." Sucking in a slow breath and letting it out in a sigh, Eddie shrugs his shoulders, pulling the black button-down tighter around him.

"It's fine. I should have handled it better.- I'm the one who should be saying sorry" At that, Richie quirked a brow.

"It's asthma, you can't really control it- unless that's some sort of super power." As an after thought, Richie added, "Pretty lame one if you ask me." Eddie held a hand out into the rain, soaking in the biting cold of each drop. It streamed down his hands, off of his fingertips.

"No, it's... it's all bullshit. Nevermind." A heartbeat passes, "You shouldn't smoke. It risks lung cancer." Silence yet again. Richie didn't ask to leave, and didn't make any move to. Once he finished his cigarette he dropped it to the ground beside him and crushed it under his heel. The two simply stood, side by side with a few feet between, looking out into the rain and soaking in the peace. The party continued on behind him, but Eddie couldn't care less. While Stan and Bill were enjoying themselves, so was he, to a degree. Richie's normally overbearing aura had calmed, dulled, softening around the edges so now it wasn't as much a bright yellow as it was a soft red.

"Eds?" Richie asked in a questioning tone, not shattering the fragile silence but rather parting it like hanging vines, "Can I make you a deal?" Eddie nodded his head. "Come by and buy coffee every once and a while and this whole ordeal is forgotten, no hard feelings. I'll make you my signature drinks on the house to apologize to you, and you come by and chat with me every few days to apologize to me." Letting out another sigh, Eddie said,

"Yeah, fine."

"And don't call me Eds."

[the-starsabove-you]

The Stars Above You - Redo

Short Summary - Rose Miller lived up to her name, she had all those thorns to drive people away. But in reality, she was harmless. She was like petals that were plucked out but would always grow stronger from it. A story about friendship and romance, and life on the road with the Dallas Stars.

Pairings: Tyler Seguin/OFC/Jamie Benn

Chapter 1- Tonight is the Night

It was a dark and chilly night in the summer of Boston. Fits of laughter escaped a couple of girls as they made their way inside the bar. The bar was small but had lots of people, it was one of those classic bars with neon lights all over the walls, pictures on the walls. The lights were dimmed lowly and the music was blasting loudly that you could hardly hear anything.

Rose looked around in awe of the bar. The amount of people dancing on the floor, jumping and dancing along to the beat of the music. Her best friend, AJ linked arms with her best friend as she dragged her along

“Come on Rose! We got a busy night ahead of us. That was our last game, we’re free now!” AJ said as she dragged her friend to the bar, Rose chuckling and even their teammates were following behind, cheering and jumping around.

“AJ, We’re just on off-season.. It’s not like it’s the Stanley Cup. We were lucky to catch a flight into the states.” Rose said but the blonde looked back at her with a grin “You know I love it that we can finally have time off.” She said and Rose smiled at that.

AJ was always very excited and happy.. It always made her happy to see when her best friend was in high spirits. She loved bringing her teammates to bars and they loved partying the night away until the sun would rise.

“ A round of shots please for us!” One of their teammates, Amy, shouted over at the bartender who grinned and went to do the order. Rose played for The Calgary Infernos.. It was one of the newest teams in the CWHL and Rose was very excited to be one of their goaltenders for the league.

“Oh god, looks like we aren’t the only hockey players here too” AJ said as she saw a group of guys cheering and dancing along to the music, drinking and singing along. Amy looked over and scowled “How do you know they’re hockey players Babe?”

AJ observed them and looked back at her group of friends “I noticed some of them from Boston.. The Bruins. They won the cup about two years ago” She pointed out as she started naming each one, But Rose was busy trying to make sure the girls got their drinks and didn’t listen as much but Amy whistled “We got a fangirl over here”

AJ bit her lip and blushed “Not a fangirl, I just like watching the guys play. Their games are as interesting as ours” She said and Rose turned back to look at some of the guys and whistled “I would love to play against some of them, they would be a real challenge with their height”

AJ winked at her friend “Maybe you could be like Manon Rhéaume and be a goaltender in the NHL, that would be legendary status” She said and Rose smiled at that

“I wanna make an impact.. I want my career to be something cool.. I want to be able to inspire young girls to go out there and know they’re able to do anything they want” Rose said and AJ smiled softly at her friend and hugged her “And I’ll be there for you, the whole way” AJ said as the girls cheered “To the future!”

Rose chuckled as she took her shot but she stopped when she heard a voice behind her, someone pressing against her slightly as he shouted a bit over the loud music “Another one of my usual, Mike”

Rose didn’t turn around, but rather froze a bit as the bartender Mike, nodded and went to make the drink. The figure stepped away a bit but Rose knew the man was still around and Mike placed the drink in front of her and the stranger leaned over, pressing himself against her a bit and placed a ten dollar bill and he said “Keep the change!” He said and Mike chuckled and nodded “Enjoy, Ty”

Ty..

The figure finally was away and Rose let out a breath of relief and Amy narrowed her eyes “Some men don’t know personal space” She said and Mike looked over as he cleaned a couple of glasses “Ty is a good guy, young and stupid.. But he’s a good guy”

It clicked in AJ’s mind suddenly as she gasped suddenly, looking over “That weirdo who was invading personal space was Tyler Seguin! He plays for the Bruins”

Rose scowled “Tyler Seguin?” She said and AJ nodded “Second overall pick in his NHL draft. He’s a very good hockey player” She said and Rose turned back to look over at the man who was invading her space earlier and her mouth dropped a bit.

He was very cute, dark brown hair with tattoos. He was looking over at the black-hair girl with a smirk as a couple of other girls were trying to talk to him but he was clearly ignoring them. Rose was very curious about him. One of Tyler’s teammates said something to him and Tyler went to answer his friend but his eyes wouldn’t leave her.

Amy snorted and looked at her teammates “This is a crazy night and plus with all the hockey players here.. It’s gonna get more crazy soon. Can we get out of here?” She said and AJ nodded “Of course,  Rose.. You’re ready?”

Rose looked over from Tyler to her teammates and nodded “Yeah, let’s go..” She said getting up, she looked over at Tyler who frowned at first but smirked as he raised his drink up to her and she couldn’t help but smirk as she then raised her drink and then finished it and followed her teammates out so they could go bar jumping for the rest of the night. But she knew that Tyler was looking at her the whole time/

She knew she hadn’t seen the last of Tyler Seguin

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

The Girl I Met on the Internet (Holy, Part 1.)

Series description: Your bestie Kim was a free-spirited person who wasn’t exactly concentrated on finding herself a partner. Yet one day, she recieves a phone number and this time, you didn’t want to keep the person on the other end hanging. And so, you text them, no matter who they are.

Part summary: A party was something unseen in Brownsville, for at least five years. You and your friends go there - and you get a hold on an unknown person’s number sent to your bestie by Stanley Barber.

A/N: I know that I’ve done this with Whatsapp series already but... This just seemed like a super-sweet idea for a closeted queer Sydney is. 

Tagging: x

Sydney’s tape: go fuck yourself

Series masterlist: H E R E

It was a wild evening. The kind of wild you knew you'll remember until the day you die. That was clear as day. Well, in the end, something like this happened once in every five years in Brownsville. What was happening, you might ask?

People puking on the toilets - some of them proceeded to do quite a variety of sexual activities in the said cabins. Drunk dudes were undressing, girls throwing their bras and/or panties (in the worse case) onto the stage. Everyone was dancing, yelling, laughing, and drinking more than they drank beforehand. Oh. And it was a concert. An indie band underground concert. Which naturally caught the attention of many youngsters living in the small town.

Naturally, everyone, there was drunk as fuck and when these said people weren't drunk, they were as high as a kite. Don't be silly - almost no-one there was over the age of 21. No, we're talking about high schoolers. Said reason was the main one for most of the parents not knowing that their children were out there, partying. The whole school was there in the underground club.

Your friend, Kim, managed to assemble the full party - you were there, your gay friend Aaron came, and on top, he brought his boyfriend with him. They disappeared for a while, leaving you and Kim and the bar to buy some beer. Naturally, you had a very vivid idea about what they were doing, but you just let the boys handle their business.

"So..." - You started quietly, looking around at all the young people. Not only your schoolmates were there, but also youngsters from the nearby towns had come there. - "You see some lucky person you like?" - At this question, Kim grinned and took another sip of her beer.

Kim was someone who didn't care about gender or relationships. She was mostly focused on having one night stands and God, she could afford it. She was, indeed, gorgeous in her way. And you were as pretty as she was, yet it wasn't in your nature to just... Approach people. For the most part, you were sure that you're into boys.

But many instances had shown you to never say never. For example, there was this so-called lesbian... Well, now, she was pregnant with a dude who was working in local 7/11, so she couldn't be such a lesbian she proclaimed to be just half a year ago, could she?

"What about you?" - Kim asked back without answering the initial question, sipping from her cup of beer while intensely looking at one chick on the dance floor who was breaking her pelvis while attempting to twerk. Or whatever she was doing.

"Nah. I'm far behind dudes for a while now. We don't wanna repeat the David thing which ended what... A month ago?" - Yeah. As you were shaking your head, there was a grin on your face. David was portraying the role of Mr. Perfect, to put it somehow. Well, in the end, he wasn't as perfect as he wanted you to believe. And when you realized how much of a fraud that person was, you brought the hell on him.

Yet as soon as Kim smirked, even more, you knew she's about to say something borderline controversial. - "Maybe you're searching in the wrong crowd? But who am I to judge." - You watched how her shoulders shrug as you rolled your eyes.

Kim wasn't as much help in the relationship advice department as you'd expect your best friend to be. Every time you've been whining about the escapades with boys, she looked you dead in the eyes, telling you to find yourself a girlfriend. To which, you usually rolled your eyes even harder, telling her that this side of things is her domain more than yours.

And again, she had a response to that - when you meet the person, there doesn't exist a thing like a gender. Sure, she was probably right, but you decided not to jump to conclusions. If you were about to live through some sort of a queer awakening, you wanted it to strike you just like that. You never talked to a girl to ask her out or whatever.

If it was about to happen, who would you be to stop it, right? But you weren't the person who would walk to meet it. So, for the last couple of years, it was Kim's mission to find you a girlfriend. And when you asked her why, she just answered that for a reason, she gets the queer vibes from you.

"Here are my favorite boys!" - Kim cried out as you both saw Aaron and his boyfriend making their way to you. They both looked relaxed as fuck, so that made you more or less sure about what these two were up to on the restrooms. Either they were doing the mentioned sexual activities or they were doing some drugs - and then doing something sexual. Aaron rose his hands above his head, straightening the football jacket on his shoulder just before he hugged one of your shoulders and one of Kim's shoulder. Kim sighed, leaning the back of her head into Aaron's broad shoulder.

"I have... This for you, miss Possible." - His fingers suddenly pulled a small paper from somewhere on his palm, handing Kim a piece of paper with a number written on it. This occurred rather frequently. For an unknown reason, guys neither girls never thought that Kim is an insufferable asshat. She was receiving numbers on pieces of paper now and then - well, she could decorate her whole room with the numbers. As usual, Kim took the paper and looked at Aaron, waiting for the story of this particular number. In the meantime, Aaron's boyfriend left you standing there, going for a cig outside. - "You won't believe this." - Aaron rose his eyebrow, shaking both of you with a childish smile. - "Stanley Barber gave me this number."

"Stan the Man is here? Why didn't you tell me earlier? He sure as hell has some good weed." - Kim widened her eyes, ready to go on a search for Stanley immediately. But Aaron was still holding her in one place, having a dead stare in his eyes. - "Hold your horses. To answer your question, yes, he has his joints with him. But this number belongs to one of his friends who was too shy to approach you. And in exchange for the weed, he wants you to text her." - Aaron explained simply.

Stanley Barber... How would you describe Stanley? You couldn't describe the boy. He was something completely out of this word. No, he and your group of friends weren't friends, but you weren't enemies either. You had more or less a neutral relationship. Sometimes you hung out around each other, sometimes you hadn't seen the boy in weeks. Well... At least you tried not to see him. Stanley himself was unmissable. This boy sometimes came stoned to school, wearing sunglasses and banging his head into walls left and right. His clothes were unmissable as well. Stan was just... Unmissable.

Yet, honestly, you never saw him with anyone who could be seen as a friend figure. Never fucking ever. There was a high probability that Stan was high once again. First and foremost - was this friend real? Second of all - was it a girl or a boy? As soon as you saw Kim's face, you knew she's not texting anyone - but for the first time, it struck you as wrong. Stanley was a cool dude for the most part. You could say that you technically liked the boy. When you realized how much weed he had already invested to keep the relationship on neutral, this was the smallest thing Kim could do.

"Not happening." - "Don't be a bitch." - Aaron rolled his eyes, sighing. - "Stanley gave you as much weed as a cow eats per month. This is nothing to repay him, huh? And... It can end in something fun for you." - The boy proposed and for once, you had to say that Aaron was right. - "Not happening, babe. Stanley's friend is just as weird as he is and I don't wanna do anything in common with that. But let's smoke some fucking pot!" - Kim put both her palms up the air, crying out cheerfully.

"You should text that person. Stan's cool for the most part." - You took Aaron's side in this not-even-an-argument. At that, Kim turned at you and put the small piece of paper into your palm. - "If you can't beat them, join them. I think I know how this would play out, so, now's your turn to try texting a stranger." - Her fingers gently patted your cheek before she turned on her heels, dragging Aaron along. You wanted to go home anyway. And as you watched Kim and the big quarterback disappearing in the distance, you turned on your heels to leave the place as well.

It was a nice evening. You had seen someone gulping down a whole fucking cup of beer under one minute without throwing it out, you saw a dude undressing in front of the stage, a shit ton of people making out, and a few of them throwing up. Sometimes doing these things simultaneously. Which was as impressive as scary. But honestly, you were fucking tired.

Silently, you snuck through the house, closing the door behind. Just when you wanted to call the whole operation a success, you almost stumbled over Mr. Skittles, your super-extra-old tomcat. Even when you almost screamed and Mr. Skittles almost hissed at you pretty loudly to put you back into your place, you both stayed silent and looked at each other. Not too long after that, you were already laying in your bed, trying to fall to sleep.

The next morning, Kim rolled to your house in her old, falling apart Beetle. She was looking worse than you - there were sunglasses on her eyes, she sure as hell hasn't done her make-up in the morning, she didn't even comb her hair, she just put a baseball cap over it. - "You look fucking disgusting." - Was the first thing you told her when you opened up the door. Kim leaned closer to you, pulling her sunglasses down for a minute to look you in the eyes. - "You. Have. No. Idea." - And with that, you set on your way to school.

There still was a mysterious number which was given to Kim. You didn't throw it away but you weren't exactly overhyped to text them. You didn't want to lose the small piece of paper, but you didn't keep it on your field of vision. But there was a day when you gladly took the gamble. It was a few days before one of the shorter holidays, so naturally, there was a big test coming your way. Kim and Aaron were shopping for your stay at your grandma's small cabin just a few minutes down the road.

You, in the meantime, were trying to study. But even the leaves falling on the ground were more interesting than the subject you were trying to study for. So, as you tried to build a small tower from your pens and markers and as it had fallen again, your eyes slowly traveled to the drawer where you stored the small piece of paper for the last few days. Well, you could try it, right? It won't hurt anyone. You didn't even know who's number that was. It would be just like snapping or texting on Omegle, huh?

Slowly, you stood up from your desk and walked to the drawer, taking it out. You were weirdly on edge. It was more than two weeks since the whole concert thingy - the person probably accepted that Kim fucked them over. So you didn't have to stress about this whole situation. You could maybe just make something up in case they would ask where you got the number? This was nonsense. You shouldn't be nervous about such bullshit. So all you had to do was that you had to text the first text. And so you went for it.

You: Is someone there?

That was a tragic first text, that had to be said. And as soon as your phone marked it as delivered, you threw the device away on your bed, turning to your table with your heart in your throat. Why were you feeling so sick? Were you about to pass out? Most likely yeah. And it got worse - because the person had responded.

(Unknown number): Yea, there is. And you are? Where did you get this number?

[dawnstaley]

maybe the real stanley cup was the friends we made along the way

[bittysvalentines]

Would That I

From: @lizards-online

To: @pieandpucks

Sometimes in life, things are missed. Opportunities are lost, but as a whole we cannot stop moving. Still, something feels left behind, dropped in a time before. We keep going, with something lost and something gained, until life gives us our chance again,to take destiny’s chance to reconnect and find what is lost. 

At Samwell University resided one Dr. Jack Zimmermann, a professor of history with an affinity for ice sports and queer literature. His smile was kind and his hair was just beginning to hint at touches of grey. He was a hard grader, and his readings were long, but his passion for teaching and his love of his students always showed through in his work. Students left his classes better thinkers, harder workers, and with only the smallest crush on him. Okay sometimes, not so small. Even the straightest of men recognized that Dr.Jack Zimmermann was a resident hottie. Rumor had it that he was voted “Samwell’s Most Gorgeous” four years straight back in the day.  

 Jack shuffled a few papers at his podium so as to get them in order before the end of his lecture. “Everyone, thank you for your attention today, just remember if you want to earn some extra credit points, you can attend one of the alumni guest lectures that will be on campus this weekend, and then write a one page response on the speaker’s topic and your thoughts. I’ll be popping in to a couple of the speakers myself, so if you see me, don’t be afraid to say hello.” 

Jack began walking across the front of the classroom, dispersing flyers advertising the Alumni Symposium to be passed back. 

A student in the back of the room raised her hand, staring down at the flyer in her hand “Dr. Zimmermann, when did you graduate Samwell?”   

Jack paused for a moment. “2015. Why?”

“Well, I was just looking at the graduation year of some of these alumni, and it says here Eric Bittle Graduated in 2017. So that means you were only two years ahead of Eric Bittle when he went here!” 

The class erupted in murmurs and comments. Eric Bittle was one of Samwell’s most famous alumni. He led Samwell to the Frozen Four his senior year, while being the first out NCAA hockey captain, was drafted by the Falconers and was the first openly LGBT+ player in the league. He won the Stanley Cup his rookie year (first of many) along with the Calder and Art Ross. Even outside of hockey he was famous for his witty vlog which evolved from a cooking vlog to a hockey, cooking and life blog with now over 18 million followers from all walks of life. 

Jack swallowed hard. Yes, it was true, his time at Samwell and Eric Bittle’s time did overlap by two years, and in fact, during those two years, he ran into Eric all the time. They were...friends. Shitty made sure of that. Jack would watch the hockey team’s games, not only to support Shitty, but to watch Eric weave and maneuver across the ice unlike anyone else. Even though Jack had decided against playing in college, he never did lose his love of the game. Meanwhile Eric would hover about the library doing anything but homework when Jack was working. Plus, the semester they took a class together was definitely a bonding experience. But it had been a long time since they had spoken. After Jack graduated, he felt too awkward reaching out to someone who he had a massive crush on but was WAY out of his league. And when one month turned into two, and then one year turned into five, and five years into a decade, Jack had trouble remembering where all the time had gone.

“Hah. Uh, yes he was two years younger than me. We had a class together once.” Jack decided firmly against mentioning his large crush on the blond to his entire History 336 Seminar. 

The students in the room all lamented about how cool it was that their professor knew a celebrity. 

Jack closed the door to his office and scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a sigh. Would it be awkward to see Eric again? Would Eric even remember him? Probably not. It was just a youthful crush. Even if Eric was still as attractive and charming and wonderful as he was back in the day, Jack was far past his prime. He could just not go to that lecture, but he felt drawn to it, as if something wanted him to see Eric speak. Jack picked up his phone and dialed the most recent number. It picked up on the first ring. 

“What the FUCK is up Zimmermann, to what do I owe the pleasure of one of your rare and coveted calls? Are you in legal trouble? Did you kill someone? Did you kick a goose and now you’re losing your Canadian citizenship?” Shitty was Jack’s best friend. He was boisterous and energetic but genuine nonetheless. His words washed over Jack with a wave of excitement and familiarity. 

“Haha Shits. I’m good. And no, no geese, at least not this time. I was just wondering, would you want to come down to Samwell this weekend? There’s an alumni symposium going on, and I think you’d enjoy the speakers.” 

“Ah ha old Jackabelle misses me. Of fuckin course I’ll come down to the symposium, but I’ll warn ya man I’m not gonna sit through more than ONE old white man talk. ONE. Who's the lineup anyway?”   

“I can forward you the flyer but  just off the top of my head: there's the current head of the English department, Dr. Masawa, she’s gonna be talking about her book, um Dr. Atley is going to present some research, and um, Eric Bittle is going to be there.” 

“Bitty fucking Bittle? The myth, the man, the legend himself? Well fuck my ass and call me chicken we HAVE to go to that. It’s been like FOREVER since I’ve seen Bits. What a fucking beaut. We texted a bit last month but it's been like a year and some since I last got to hang with him. You know he’s got a daughter now?” 

“Oh. Uh, no?” A daughter. Jack’s head spinned. He knew he didn’t have a chance with Eric but he didn’t realize that Eric had gotten married and had a kid. That would’ve been big news right? Was Jack really that out of the loop? He needed to read the news more. 

“Yeah she’s fuckin adorable as fuck. Like, two, three now maybe? He posts pictures of her on Facebook like all the time.”

“That’s uh pretty cool. Listen Shits, I have to go I have a, uh, book to read. I’ll see you this weekend. You can stay at my place. Text you bye.”

“Bye Jac-” Jack hung up the phone before Shitty could fully say goodbye. Why did he feel like there was a pit in his stomach? He didn’t care that Eric Bittle was a married father. So what? It’s not like he had a chance with him anyway. What would he have done? Gone up to him after his speech and say “Hello, I had a crush on you in college, and then we never talked after I graduated. Want to go on a date?” Even if Jack had had the confidence to do so, it was literally impossible now because Eric was a married father, a professional hockey player, celebrity, and an A Level hottie. All Jack had was a doctorate, a wall of books and a million papers to grade. He wasn’t even in the shape he had been in when he was in college, so really, he didn’t have anything to offer. Jack should just shut out all the fantasies of those big brown eyes, and golden hair, and gorgeous toned legs. Gosh what was he doing? 

Jack crossed the room and slumped into his chair behind his desk and picked up a stack of papers sitting on a chair beside the desk. The best way to distract himself was to drown in work. 

Eric Bittle woke up at 6 a.m. Saturday morning to the sound of his daughter crying. He was tired and sore from his game the night before, and a bruise was starting to form on his left thigh due to a nasty check from a Bruins defenceman but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. 

Eric threw off his sheets and rushed into his daughter’s room. Allie was just about two and a half years old, and was in the midst of potty training. Unfortunately for him, Eric was also in the middle of the thralls of hockey season so a lot of the potty training fell on her daycare teachers. Being a single parent was tough. When his cousin Elizabeth had passed away, leaving her and her partner’s daughter to him, he had no idea what to do. He had been five years into his professional hockey career, out, single and totally unprepared for the hurdles of parenthood. 

He pushed open the door to the nursery to find his daughter sitting upright whimpering. “Oh you poor thing. Looks like we’re going to have to get you changed real quick now aren’t we Miss Allie?”

Eric brought her to the changing table and cleaned her and dressed her for the day. It was a little earlier in the morning than he had planned, but he needed to get a move on to get to Samwell in time for his guest lecture. Eric had reached out to his old advisor and she recommended him an education major who would be glad to watch his daughter while he spoke and mingled, not wanting to be away from her for the entirety of his day off. He dressed her in cute bunny socks and a yellow shirt and white pants. She was just about the cutest thing in the world. Soon Eric himself got dressed, packed a diaper bag and headed out. 

On his way Eric’s thoughts winded through his head. It had been quite some time since he’d been back to his alma mater. Samwell had been such an influential and formative place for him. From developing his hockey skills to coming into his own as a gay man. And even though he never did have a long lasting romantic relationship, the friendships he made there pushed him through his life and helped him become who he was. Thinking back to some of the people, he thought about the boys, Lardo, some of the other team captains, and his mind landed on one Jack Zimmermann. 

Eric had always had such a massive crush on Jack, with his boyband bangs, his droopy eyes, jaw that could cut glass and a behind that would give greek statues a run for their money. Eric had first met Jack through Shitty, but then subsequently kept running into him in the dining hall, gym and then one semester for a class. Jack would come to their games and Eric would watch him stack books in the campus library while he pretended to do homework, but always ended up back at the circulation desk, talking about everything and nothing until it closed. They had been friends, and Eric had had the largest crush on earth on the sad-eyed Canadian. But Jack was way out of Eric’s league.  He had been voted Samwell’s Most Beautiful for four years straight, and suitors were constantly trying to ask him out. And then Jack graduated, leaving Bitty yearning for what could have been. According to Shitty, Jack was a professor at Samwell, but the two hadn’t really kept in contact. After the fact, there had been some boys, some boyfriends, even some hookups, but nothing lasting more than a few months at a time. At 30 years old Eric Bittle had never been in a relationship longer than 9 months. 

The sight of Samwell pulled Eric out of his thoughts and Eric shook his head. He had things to do, and he wasn’t going to let ghosts from the past distract him from his job today: to speak about Samwell, sports, and his activism. 

Jack entered the packed auditorium with Shitty in tow. He smiled and waved to a few of his students while Shitty was speaking as if he was a physical manifestation of stream of consciousness. They took their seats in the front row reserved for faculty, staff and alumni. 

“I wonder what he’s gonna talk about. I hope he brings up all the swawesome shit the SMH did. Like that one kegster when-” 

“Wait Shits shhh there he is” Jack cut Shitty off. 

Eric Bittle walked onto the stage with a mic affixed to his shirt. He wore tight fitting navy blue slacks that highlighted just how well the NHL had bulked him up. His top two shirt buttons were unbuttoned on his white and navy blue patterned shirt. The sleeves were rolled up ¾ of the way showing off the definition in his arms. Jack’s throat immediately went dry with his face getting more red as the moments ticked on. 

Fuck. Eric Bittle was even hotter than he remembered and was a million times more attractive in person than he had been in promotional pictures. And his voice, the accent was so cute! Keep it together Zimmermann, that’s a married man. Jack was going to have a hard time sitting through this entire speech. 

  Fuck. Eric walked on stage, scanning the audience and almost immediately his eyes landed on one Jack Zimmermann. He was wearing a tweed jacket, with glasses and his hair was just a touch grey. Time had been very kind to Jack. Eric’s throat became dry as he stumbled his way through his introduction. Shit Jack was in the front row. How was Eric going to concentrate when the hottest man in the world was right in front of him, watching him speak for an hour and a half. 

Clapping. Jack was clapping. He zoned back in after having not actually comprehended a single word for the past 90 minutes. He had just sat and stared at the most gorgeous man he had ever seen and tried not to get a boner. Shitty was speaking to him. Jack needed to respond. 

“Yeah. He does look good in those pants” Shit. Probably not what Shitty asked him. 

“Not what I was talking about, but yeah you know what now that you mention it, mother fucker looks fresh as fuck! I gotta fuckin tell him those pants are doing it for him.” Shitty bolstered himself out of his chair, and up the steps and onto the stage where some faculty were gathering to congratulate him on his speech. Jack followed. 

“Eric Mother fucking Bittle” Shitty bellowed as he walked, Jack close behind, to where Eric stood, now holding a young baby girl on his hip as he spoke with alumni and faculty alike. 

Eric turned to face the two men and smiled. “Shitty B. Knight you best not be swearing around my daughter like that. And Jack, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile.”

“Fuck yeah it has been. You two were adorable back in the day. You should’ve kept touch more!”  Shitty laughed. 

Jack smiled awkwardly. “Yeah it has been a bit hasn’t it? I’m sorry I never kept touch. Congrats on the hockey, and the Stanley Cup, and the marriage and uh, kid.” 

Eric’s face twisted into a confused half smile. “Marriage? Jack Zimmermann I am not married. I was her godfather. Life happened and now I’m her Daddy.” Eric looked at her, and kissed her forehead softly.

Jack’s brain short circuited. Not...married? “Oh so are you…”

“No I’m not seeing anyone. I’m doing quite fine with her all by myself.” Eric blushed. 

“Okay I see where this is going, I’m gonna back out of this convo..” Shitty etched away from the two men. The latter hardly noticing. 

Jack awkwardly ran a hand through his hair. “In all honesty, Eric, remember all those years ago, when we went to Samwell together. I had the biggest crush on you, but you were so out of league I never did anything about it. I should have, but I was a bit of a coward.”

Eric’s face turned a bright shade of pink as he stammered out a response. “Jack Laurent Zimmermann! You had a crush on me back then? I’ll have you know I pined for you for two whole years thinking you were straight until someone told me YEARS later that you weren’t, and then when I did realize you were an option, I never thought in a million years that you would be in my league anyway. You’re meaning to tell me you had a crush on me that entire time?” 

Jack blushed furiously. “We both had crushes on eachother I guess. I’m sorry I never made a move on you back then. If it means anything, I’d like to uh make one now.”

“Well how about our timing. Gladly Jack. Here, ” Eric pulled out his phone with one hand, careful not to disturb Allie, and handed it over to Jack. “ text me.” 

Jack put his number into the phone and texted himself. “In the meantime, would you like to catch up? It’s been a long time.”

Unbeknownst to the two men, several students stood by in shock, watching their professor flirt with and score a date with a literal celebrity. Two in the front high fived. “Get it Dr. Zimmermann!”

[brandoncarlo]

Hockey Horoscopes

March 21st - April 19th - The Captain 

at the end of the day The Captain only has one job that’s written down -- talking to the ref. Don’t like a penalty? Don’t like a missed penalty? don’t agree with a no goal call? well you literally can’t change their mind because it’s almost against the rules for the refs to do so, but you get to be the one to yell at them about it anyway. Are you actually a good leader? maybe. but it doesn’t matter. for you it’s about yelling. and making sure the rookies have their names written on their lunchboxes. 

April 20th - May 20th - The Selke Winner

A player who wins the Selke will always be underrated. They could win the Hart and they’d still be underrated. Why? Because they fucking score and play defense? literally no other type of player does this. Is being relied on like this stressful as hell? sure but someone’s gotta do it. In some ways you enjoy it. Yeah it kind of sucks but at least if you’re doing it, you can try not to fuck up. No one else is trustworthy enough.

May 21 - June 20 - Trade Bait

A lot of the time the team doesn’t even want to trade you they just really want a first round pick and your name gets stapled to whatever package is being sent for it. Which team will you be on next month? who knows but jerseys are really expensive and you pretty much have all of them at this point, that’s just good economics. Someone who is trade bait has inherent value that’s proven over and over again but this can end up making you feel more like a possession than a person and you constantly struggle with your identity and your concept of personhood because of it.

June 21 - July 22 - The Bro

Summers are for fishing, golfing, dogs, and posting shirtless pics to instagram. Can real life have homo erotic subtext? ask the picture you posted at 5 am this morning of you messily hanging over another player on someone’s boat. Some think you don’t take your work seriously but of course you do because how else would you buy all your snapbacks? They’re not cheap these days. Do you bank on people finding your personality overexaggerated and a little fake as a way to keep them from knowing and therefore judging the real you? Probably. but hey, you’ve only been traded twice for off ice conduct and you haven’t had a scandal in three months. you’re doing fine. 

July 23rd - August 22 - Good Ol’ Canadian Boy

Remember that time you yelled at an old lady in the grocery store? Doesn’t matter cause literally no body else does. You’re good boy image has done that for you. All you gotta do is say the same three things in every interview and all the 40-80 year olds who watch hockey will love you and at the end of the day, that’s 90% of people who watch hockey so you’re good. Does your lack of individuality and the constant pressure for you to be The Savior wear on you and cause you to make impulsive and stupid decisions? Oh for sure, but no one will hold it against you. or maybe they will. Your life is kind of just like an exciting game of reputation roulette. 

August 23rd - September 22nd - 4th Line Enforcer

No one has to ask you to bloody your knuckles for your team, you’ll do it any day of the week. Your teammates all love you, they fetch your food and drinks for you. They clean up your locker for you and your goalie even lets you score during practice. You just can’t shake the feeling though that people do nice things for you as part of a transaction where you pay them back by beating the shit out of any guy that takes a run at them. You protecting those you’re closets with is of utmost importance, and you know they appreciate it. But you also know at the end of the day loyalty can only go so far and when it comes time for your GM to trim the fat off the salary cap, you’re first to go. but hey, during your first game back that rookie you took under your wing who’s now a full grown man will make eye contact with you, and for a split second you’ll remember why all of this was all worth it. 

September 23rd - October 22nd - The Lone American

Maybe you’re patriotic or maybe you couldn’t give a shit but the truth remains that you are alone on a team in the middle of Alberta with 99% canadians. Your only confidant is your finnish d partner and the video review coach’s assistant, Jeremy, who just graduated from UMich and even he  says “about” funny. Because of this you take every opportunity to repeat the miracle monologue and you insist on stopping at every dunkin donuts you come within a 50 mile radius from. You’re not used to being the odd man out but now that you are, you find that you are almost regretfully being proud of something you previously didn’t connect with. Did you know all the lyrics to the anthem before? nope but now you do if only to sing along loudly enough to piss off everyone else on the team plane wondering why you’re standing in the aisle with your hand over your heart. You may need to stop defining yourself by the things that make you different from others, before you sever the bonds completely. Until then, do you believe in Miracles? YES!

October 23rd - November 21st - The Rat

The Commish has you on speed dial and your coach made a soundboard so they didn’t lose their voice yelling at you all game. You spend your free time studying the greats, the founding fathers of trash talk. Being the one everyone loves to hate has become so much your identity that you may forget every now and then that you’re not just an entertainer, you’re a person. In between making cooing noises at opponents and criticizing hair cuts of your teammates try to say one genuine thing. Just at all. Before you lose yourself entirely in the persona.

November 22nd - December 21st - Second Line Centre

Sure people usually follow up your name by saying “...makes how much?” but you’re worth it goddamnit. Not everyone lead the league in playoff goals in the 2014 season even though your team didn’t win that year RIP. Despite doing your best at every turn you never can seem to really please anyone. You’re stuck in the shadow of someone you consider a life long friend and have to constantly surround yourself with good people and good words to not grow to resent your space. Those who like you, like you for your easiness and your work ethic. But remember, there’s nothing wrong with an over celebration and patting yourself on the back every now and then.

December 22nd - January 19th - The Vet

Welcome to the big leagues kid, work hard and you may find a home here... is what you usually say to others when they enter your locker room. You care and you take things seriously because that’s just the right thing to do. But you also can realize the importance of real life over a game you play for money. Your head is on your shoulders and you have a life time experience under your belt and you aren’t even 50 yet. So that’s pretty cool. But as one chapter ends and another begins, don’t forget what excitement and exhilaration feel like.

January 20th - February 18th - The University Graduate

Sure a lot of your teammates went to school, the american ones mostly, but almost none of them actually got their degree. Why should they? they’re making bank. Unfortunately for them but mostly you, they’re all fucking dumb jock meatheads and make fun of you for reading. You only got your Bachelor’s with a straight B average, but these guys make you feel like you got your PhD when you were 17. “You went to Harvard?” They ask in awe, as if you didn’t get in solely on your athletics scholarship. Try not to let your own academic success get to your head though, Kindness and compassion are a lot more valuable in the long run and you’d be surprised by what dumbass jocks have to say. or probably not. but i’m trying to make a point about how academia does not equal = intelligence. to again make another point about how when we’re surrounded by people with different values than us we may begin to feel superior when really we should take the opportunity to learn from them as much as they learn from us. this is all fun and games folks.

February 19th - March 20th - Almost Joined a Punk Band

None of your tattoos are lions or include your own last name/family crest, you’re too original for that. As a kid you used to dream of being on a stage more than you dreamed of raising the stanley cup, but hey in world juniors you scored an OT goal and got to play air guitar as your celly so it’s kind of the same thing. Your parents were iffy about you playing a sport with the same type of kids who would have bullied you in high school but you stand on your own. But you made friends by teaching your teammates how to play the guitar. So sure you’re the odd man out but people like you. and you know what it’s like to be judged, so your open minded attitude draws people to you naturally. Just make sure you don’t trust too much because that open and creative attitude can turn into you being jaded, washed up, and wishing you actually did join a punk band insted.

[fanficimagery]

Finding a Mate

#396 "You can't just hug me and think everything's okay."

Summary: When Hope moves to Forks with her aunts Freya and Keelin, and gets enrolled in public school, the last thing she expected was to find a coven of vegetarian vampires and a mate. Then again she was a Mikaelson and was used to dealing with crazy.

Author's Note: Only Jasper and Alice are mates. Emmett, Rosalie, and Edward are all unattached, but Rose and Edward have their own thing going on with one another.

With Keelin back in the States for good and Hope mentioning she wasn't content at the boarding school anymore, Freya decided it was time for a change. Hope had wanted to be far away from anything that reminded her of her parents or uncle Elijah, and Freya had randomly chosen Forks, Washington. The town was small, but had all the necessities for every day living, and her niece and wife had readily agreed after Keelin found out the local hospital was hiring.

Keelin wasn't promised a spot after submitting her résumé via email when she had called to inquire about the job, but the girls moved there anyway. Freya had found them the perfect two story, three bedroom house with enough attic space for her witchy supplies, and they packed up what they wanted from the abattoir before closing the Mikaelson home down until either Rebekah or Kol went back.

Now in Forks, Hope happily settles in and quickly finds the smallest bakery she's ever seen that also sells coffee and tea. She finds they make an excellent cup of peppermint tea and vows to herself that this will be her new to-go spot before school.

Keelin gets called in for an interview at the hospital, and Freya and Hope tag along in hopes of getting a feel for the locals while they wait at the hospital. It's there, nearly forty minutes later, that Freya realizes they're not the only supernatural beings in town. Keelin walks out of an office with a sheepish smile, she then quickly beckoning Freya and Hope to her. They enter the office and Keelin nervously introduces them to her new boss Doctor Carlisle Cullen- Doctor Cullen with the golden eyes and pale flawless skin that doesn't hold an ounce of body heat.

Introductions are quickly made, Freya immediately pegs Doctor Cullen as a vampire during their handshake, and Hope watches on in amusement as the adults go back and forth. He's surprised when Freya outs herself as a witch and Keelin a werewolf not even a minute afterwards, and Hope merely shrugs when his golden eyes land on her.

As they speak, it's obvious Doctor Cullen is wary of other supernatural beings. Freya and Keelin pick up on it and they promise that they aren't there to cause trouble; they really just want a fresh start after they'd lost several members of their family. They are used to keeping the supernatural a secret so Doctor Cullen has nothing to worry about, and after that it seems like the vampire can breathe a little easier. It's also during this meeting that Hope finds out Doctor Cullen has children attending the same school she's going to be attending, and to not be too offended if they don't automatically seek her out because they're used to being on their own. Hope laughs it off, telling him it's okay since she's usually a loner herself.

And since the three newcomers know about him and his family, Doctor Cullen asks if it's okay for him to tell his family about them. Freya, Keelin, and Hope agree that it's only fair.

After having collected her schedule and a map of the school over the weekend from the Principal and his secretary themselves, and having been taken on a tour to locate her classes, Hope feels comfortable enough showing up Monday morning. So with her peppermint tea in hand and backpack strapped to her back, Hope exits Keelin's vehicle with a smile.

"Bye! I love you. Make good choices!" The dark skinned, dark haired werewolf muses.

Hope quickly slams the door, but Keelin rolls down the passenger window. Laughing and disregarding every stare, Hope shakes her head in amusement. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome. You going to need a ride after school? I won't be out until five."

"Yes. Hopefully there'll be something to keep me occupied until then."

Keelin coos. "Aw. Look at you all grown up." Hope rolls her eyes and sips her tea to hide her smile. "Enjoy your last year, kid. Public school is a lot different than that boarding school of yours, so-"

"You forget we did nearly a month of public school for that.. exchange program Alaric put us through. I'll be fine, Keelin. Don't worry."

"Mhmm. Well if anything changes, text me or Freya. We'll come get you."

"Sure."

The window rolls back up as Keelin pulls away and Hope watches her drive off. She finally takes notice of the stares a moment later and plasters on a smile that she knows probably looks like a grimace. But not caring what anyone has to say, she turns on her heel and marches off towards the front office to retrieve the slip Ms. Cope told her she'd need every teacher of hers to sign before turning it in at the end of the day.

Kids come up to her left and right, and she tries her hardest to come off as friendly. But being who and what she is, it's easy for her to suss out just who is being real with her and who isn't.

Angela Weber is an immediate favorite of hers- the girl being mellow and just the right amount of curious about where she moved from and why. She likes Tyler Crowley and Mike Newton just fine, even though their flirtatious behavior is rather grating, but they're real personalities are on display for her to see upfront. Eric Yorkie is annoying, but tolerable, and Jessica Stanley could be a decent girl if she didn't try to compliment someone and then degrade them all in one breath. But Lauren Mallory? Lauren is a hard no. Hope does not like the mean spirited teen and the teen in question is why she doesn't sit with the apparent group of friends when at lunch when Tyler loudly beckons her to join them.

Instead Hope finds an empty table and sits, she hesitantly pushing around the food on her tray. If there was one thing she missed from the Salvatore Boarding School, it was their personal cook. Public school lunch food was, in one word, disgusting.

Several tables down, the Cullen and Hale teenagers push around the human food on their trays and make it seem as if they're eating. Alice has happily tucked herself under her mate Jasper's arm while Edward and Rosalie sit a little too close to one another, murmuring and just enjoying the close proximity. Emmett, the only unattached of the bunch, sits backwards in his chair while covertly watching the room.

"New girl, ten o'clock," he says. Edward and Rosalie chance a look her way since they're all ready facing that direction, but Jasper and Alice have to rely on everyone else's input. "Think she's special like those aunts of hers?"

Rosalie's golden eyes dart towards Hope and then away. With a shrug, she says, "She's cute. Figured she'd be sitting with the popular kids by now."

Jasper shakes his head, his blonde curls slightly tossing. "I've been watchin' her when I can. She's all smiles 'n giggles, but when whoever she's talkin' to walks away, her expression falls."

"Maybe she's tired of being hit on," Emmett muses, lips quirking at the corners. "Crowley and Newton have all ready laid claim, but they don't appear to be getting anywhere."

"Edward?" Alice suddenly chimes in. "What's wrong?" She was the only one to notice his creased brow and frown as he stared at Hope Mikaelson.

"I can't hear her."

And that- that causes his siblings to tense and really take notice of the new girl.

"What did Carlisle say her aunts were again?" Rosalie asks, frowning.

"A witch and a werewolf," Edward answers. "But he never got an answer on what Hope was."

"Well there's no time like the present." Emmett moves to stand and Rosalie's hand snaps out, wrapping around his wrist.

"Don't," she hisses.

"Chill, Rosie. Carlisle said it was okay to talk to her. In fact, he and Esme encouraged it."

"You don't show interest often," Jasper muses. "What's so different now, brother?"

Emmett's grin falters. "Call it boredom."

"Or call it what it really is," Edward says, slowly smiling and laying an arm on the back of Rosalie's chair to help soothe her. "You think she's pretty."

"Ohh. He thinks she's more than a little pretty," Jasper smirks. "I can feel just how pretty he thinks Hope Mikaelson is."

Alice giggles and the rest try their best to smother their smiles. Emmett glowers, but a smile of his own slowly breaks out. He chuckles. "Here goes nothing." The entire cafeteria seems to go quiet as they watch the largest Cullen leave his family and head for the new girl. She doesn't look up, so Emmett pulls out a chair directly across from the girl and turns it around before plopping himself down. "Hope Mikaelson," he muses.

She glances up then, her eyes narrowing before a small huff of laughter escapes her. "You're one of Doctor Cullen's kids."

"Emmett," he smirks. "The others were too intimidated to approach you." Hope follows his pointed gesture before smiling and waving at the other vegetarian vampires.

"I hardly doubt that. I'm not even that scary."

"Says the new girl who we've no idea what she's capable of."

Hope's gaze darts back to Emmett, her shoulders losing some of their tension as she grins at him. "A girl's got to have some secrets."

"Yeah." His gaze scrutinizes her and Hope challenges his stare, popping a carrot stick into her mouth while not breaking eye contact. "Speaking of secrets, did your aunt do some magic hoodoo stuff to your head? Edward can't read your thoughts." That causes her to blink and Emmett suddenly whoops. The cafeteria falls silent and Hope groans, trying to sink into her chair as every astonished gaze falls on her table. "I win."

"Jesus. Okay. You win. Lower your voice," she grumbles. Emmett hunches in his seat and Hope suddenly starts twisting a ring on her right index finger. "So Edward.. reads minds?" She glances at Emmett's family's table and sees the bronze-haired individual nod. "Just surface or.."

"He can only read what's on the surface. My siblings and I just usually mentally sing a song or mentally scream if we wanna keep him out."

"Oh." She twists her ring some more. Sighing softly, she says, "The last thing I want is you or your family uncomfortable with me and my family's presence." She slips off the ring, nods at Edward, and then faces Emmett to ask, "What do you want to know?"

"Why did you move?"

Hope slightly tenses and fidgets in her seat. "New Orleans holds a lot of.. terrible memories." Her mom's death flashes in her mind and she gulps, knowing Edward saw it. "Both my parents and uncle Elijah sacrificed themselves there. And Mystic Falls, where I attended Boarding School, is where I was constantly fighting for my life against a monster every other week. I grew tired of it."

"Do you come in peace?" Emmett's lips twitch and Hope rolls her eyes.

Chuckling, she says, "Yes. I honestly just want to finish my first and last year of public high school. And make some friends. I had trouble with making friends growing up because of who my family is."

"And just who is your family?" Emmett wonders.

"The Mikaelson's. I'll.. I have a book on my family's legacy. I'll let you borrow it as soon as I find it, but I'm warning you right now. Their past is.. bloody."

"You just keep getting more interesting the longer we talk."

"Says the vampire."

Emmett smiles, but before he can get out his last question Hope is slipping her ring back on to shield her mind once more. The bell rings, startling Hope and signalling the end to the lunch period. As Hope stands to collect her tray, he asks, "What are you?"

That gives Hope pause and she blinks in surprise at Emmett. She slowly grins. "One of a kind. Literally."

"Don't tell me you're a unicorn." He laughs, but then quickly sobers when he sees Hope's expression of distaste.

"God no. Unicorns are pretty, but they're devious." She shivers and her expression suddenly appears far away. "Gross mind controlling slugs. Never again."

"..what!"

Hope refocuses on Emmett, she sheepishly laughing. "Yeaahhhh. See you around." And then she quickly takes her leave.

The rest of Emmett's family joins him as Hope disappears. "She was telling the truth," Edward says. "Every answer she gave was accompanied by a visual representation. She witnessed her mother's death."

"So a ring kept you out of her mind?" Rosalie then muses after the awkward tension of mentioning Hope's mother's death vanishes. "I might have to ask her for one of those."

Edward grins, but Emmett is still gobsmacked by what Hope last said. "Unicorns are real? You think she was telling the truth about that?"

Alice giggles and Jasper grabs his mate's hand to escort her to her next class. "Probably. She slipped that ring of hers back on and blinded Edward again."

"Damn."

"Don't worry." Alice smiles knowingly. "I get glimpses here and there of her. Hope will be sticking around."

"Oh?" Edward, Alice, Jasper, and Rosalie all grin. Emmett's eyes then narrow. "What do you know?"

"The same thing you do if you'd just open your eyes a little wider, brother." And with Jasper's parting words, the rest of their family follow him and Alice out.

A moment passes and then Emmett sighs. "What does that even mean?"

The next few days sees Hope avoiding questions her nosy peers have for her after Emmett Cullen so brazenly approached her at lunch, especially since he continues to do so days after. The only human Hope had found a moment of solace with was Angela, but even then the Cullen and Hale clan could see that Hope was still keeping her distance.

Her second week of school, however, finds Hope watching her aunts staring out the front window of their home in amusement one morning.

"What are you guys looking at?"

Keelin glances over her shoulder, grinning. "You didn't tell us you befriended Doctor Cullen's children."

Hope shrugs. "Well yeah. They're intrigued by the girl their mind reading brother can't read."

"Mhmm. So intrigued that they sent one of their own to give you a ride to school?" Freya wonders.

"..what?" Hope scurries to the window to see what her aunts are staring at and finds Emmett standing near the hood of a large jeep that's parked outside their home. "I'm gonna give him a brain aneurysm," she grumbles. "What is he playing at?" As Hope stomps off towards the front door, her aunts are quick to follow.

"He's cute," Keelin teases. "What's his name?"

Her hand freezes just before she can grab the door handle. "Freya? Please tell me you have a privacy spell up around the house and the vampire outside didn't just hear your wife call him cute?" Their silence is very telling and Hope chuckles through a groan. Finally opening the door, a beaming Emmett is standing there with a to-go cup of something steaming.

"Peppermint tea. Your apparent favorite." Keelin and Freya don't bother hiding their coos. "And a brain aneurysm? Really? That's kind of harsh, Hope. I've been nothing but nice."

Hope gives him a deadpan stare before taking the tea, she then making quick introductions. "Freya and Keelin, meet Emmett. Emmett, my aunt Freya and her wife Keelin."

"Hey." Emmett beams, a dimple in his right cheek forming. "Do either of you care to fill me in on what Hope is? She's not playing fair."

"She hasn't told you?" Freya asks.

"No. And Edward can't read her mind as long as her ring stays on."

Hope glances at her aunts. "What? It's not my fault they're terrible at guessing."

"But I bet you're not playing fair either." Keelin nudges her niece. Then looking at Emmett, she tells him, "You've probably all ready guessed what Hope is, but you're looking at her as if she's only one species. She's not."

"Wait, what?"

Hope sighs and then grumbles. "I'm a tribrid." Emmett gapes at her. "I told you I was one of a kind. Now come on, lets get to school so you can tell the others."

And after that fateful day, it becomes a regular occurrence that Emmett picks up and drops off Hope before and after school. Freya and Keelin can't help but adore the large vampire, and even Hope eventually gives in to his bashful smiles and playful behavior. Everyone at school is surprised to see the largest of the Cullen/Hale siblings behave so carefree, and even Emmett's family seem a bit surprised at his behavior, but in a good way.

Hope then becomes so used to Emmett's towering presence that when it comes time to give him her family's legacy book so he can know her history, she makes herself sick with anxiety. Her aunts do their best to soothe her worry, but she doesn't quite calm down until Emmett suddenly appears at her bedroom window one night.

Slowly opening the window after he gently knocks on the glass pane, Hope steps back on sits on the edge of her bed. Emmett enters her room, sitting on the sill.

"That was.. wow. Your family are the Firsts."

Hope nods, avoiding his gaze and twiddling her thumbs in her lap. "Only Rebekah, Kol, and Freya remain."

"That was a lot to take in. Jasper's re-reading it." Hope flinches and Emmett moves to stand before her, he then crouching and settling his hands on her knees. "Hey. Hey," he says again, reaching up to make her look at him. "Your family's past is crazy, but it's their past. Their past does not define you. We all still think very highly of you and are still looking forward to the day you grace us with what your tribrid qualities are."

Hope huffs a laugh. "I'm a witch, werewolf, and vampire," she finally tells him after a week of the Cullen and his siblings trying to guess the right combination.

"No shit? I can't believe we never guessed it."

"Well after I mentioned the unicorn your imaginations took over and started throwing out every other mythical creature that you think is real too."

"They're not?"

Hope grins at his pout and flicks his ear. "Maybe. Maybe not. One can't be too sure unless you've seen it with your own two eyes."

"At least tell me dragons are real?" She then laughs at his hopeful expression, shoving his shoulder and then huffing when he doesn't even budge. Stupid Cold One strength. "There's the smile I was hoping for."

Since Emmett's started talking to her, he's thrown in a few flirty remarks here and there. Hope's grown to expect it from him, but what she hasn't grown used to yet is the way her heart skips a beat and the way she warms all over when he genuinely smiles at her. And given his senses, she knows that he knows exactly what his proximity and words do to her.

"So what are you doing here?" She finally asks. "Did you come all the way here just to soothe my worries?"

"Yes and no." Emmett finally backs off and takes a seat next to her on the bed. "Esme's been anxious to finally meet you. We talk about you a lot and Carlisle talks a lot about how good your aunt Keelin is at her job. She's a bit miffed she's the only one who hasn't met you or your aunts."

"Oh. Well we, um, can go right now if that's okay with you?"

"Yes."

Emmett immediately stands and sits halfway in, halfway out of her window, and Hope slides off her bed to make her way towards the bedroom door. Calling out, she yells, "I'm going out with Emmett!"

"WHAT?!"

Emmett snorts and Hope's eyes widen when she realizes what she's just said. "Heading out! I'm heading out with Emmett!"

They can hear Keelin cackling from somewhere downstairs.

"Okay!" Freya then calls back up. "Don't stay out too late."

Blushing, Hope then makes her way towards a smirking Emmett.

"No shoes?"

She shakes her head. "No. I'm assuming you ran here and we're running back, so I'll just have you drop me off halfway and I can shift."

"Awesome. Climb on my back and hold on."

Since Hope's window was situated over the side walkway overhang, Emmett crouches near the ledge and waits for Hope to join him. She climbs onto his back with a small laugh a moment later, and after a brief warning Emmett jumps. His hands grip around the backs of her thighs and her arms are wrapped around his neck. She grunts when he lands, but then she's laughing as he runs.

The world is blurring by her, but not as fast as she expected since her senses can keep up with vampire speed, and she relishes the feel of the air whooshing passed her. But all too soon, he's stopping and letting her down gently.

"All right, Mikaelson, lets see what you got."

"Yeah, yeah." Hope shifts nervously before lowering herself to the ground on her hands and knees. "Have a blanket ready for me when we get there. Clothes tend to disappear through the transformation and I'd hate to scar anyone with my nudity."

He waggles his eyebrows. "You're going to be naked?"

"Don't make it weird." Emmett's laugh booms and he startles several woodland creatures. He's still laughing when Hope says, "And whatever happens next, just let it take it's course. I've been through the transformation before. I know how much pain I can endure."

His laughter immediately ceases. "What?"

Instead of answering, the first of many bones in Hope's body cracks to rearrange itself for her new form. And if Emmett had any color in his features, the color would have drained at Hope's grunts and cries of pain, her bones snapping and bending at unnatural angles.

At one point he calls her name and he takes a step back when Hope throws her head back, her eyes blazing yellow. She cries out and her back arches with a snap, and Emmett watches in awe as an abnormally large gray wolf takes the place where Hope just was.

The wolf blinks and shakes her fur out as Emmett slowly crouches. "Hope?" He gulps. The wolf nods, her tail swaying from side to side. Slowly but surely, Emmett then smirks. "Hell yes. Race to you my house?"

The wolf barks and takes off after Emmett, she letting him stay ahead of her since she didn't actually know where the Cullen's lived.

Edward and Rosalie were the only two who hadn't seen Hope's wolf form since they were out the night she showed up to their house, but with Edward's mind reading abilities he was able to see everything from his family's point of view. Rosalie didn't care to see a werewolf, instead she was rather more intrigued by the magic side of Hope and Freya's lives.

As the weeks then slowly progress, it becomes the norm for Hope to spend time at the Cullen household. Keelin's been picking up a lot of hours at the hospital, and Freya's busy getting paperwork together and what not for the opening of her very own shop that she plans to sell home remedies at.

So, of course, Hope's at the Cullen house when things go to hell.

Emmett, Jasper, and Edward are wrestling- Emmett and Jasper wearing leather cuff bracelets to protect their minds from Edward's mental probing- while Rosalie and Alice toss out some friendly taunts. It was finally a fair fight and the brothers were ecstatic to test them out.

Hope's standing with Esme since Carlisle's currently at the hospital, and the two keep their distance as the boys get rowdier and rowdier. Suddenly Alice goes still, Edward's mind is no longer on the fight, and he stares in horror at Hope. The others quickly catch on, but before Alice can come out of her vision.. whatever it was comes to fruition.

"Hope!" Edward manages to shout before Esme is thrown from the girl's side by some unseen force.

Hope gasps just as Jasper catches their mother and before she can utter a single word, a stick or stake or something is forcefully embedding itself in her throat. She immediately gurgles on blood and falls on her butt, her eyes flooding with tears from the pain as she attempts to pull the wooden stake out. There's an almighty roar that sends a shiver up and down her spine, and through her tears she sees an enraged Emmett pounding against an invisible barrier of sorts. In fact, the entire Cullen family is pounding against an invisible barrier, Emmett's black eyes focused on her.

Hope whimpers and shakily raises one bloodied hand, she trying to concentrate and release the vampires. Before she can focus enough energy to fuel her spell, she's slammed on her back and arms magically pinned to the ground, two more stakes embedding themselves in her wrists. She cries out, struggling, but it's no use.

A woman is suddenly looming over Hope, which only prompts the young tribrid to struggle some more. The woman tuts, waggling a finger at her. "Don't, child. You'll only bleed out faster."

"W-Why?"

"What was that?" The woman crouches and pulls the stake out of Hope's throat, Hope then screaming out in pain. There's another roar and the woman crouching over Hope grins. "Well he's pissed. You really have the big one wrapped around your finger, don't you?"

Hope chances a look in Emmett's direction, her heart beating faster at the sight of other individuals surrounding the family. Their hands are held out at the sides and flames erupt around the Cullen's. "No."

The woman next to Hope shrugs, still glancing over her shoulder. "They're abominations. It's a shame really. The tiny one is kind of cute."

Alice hisses, as does Rosalie, but the family has stopped pounding and instead moved closer to one another and way from the flames. Hope sniffles. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because they made you happy." The woman then glances back down at Hope, her gaze hardening. "And no Mikaelson deserves the chance at happiness. Not after what your father did."

"My father is dead!" Hope grits out. "He had changed. It wasn't his fault you witches kept coming after his family. He only did what he had to do to protect us."

"Yes, well now we intend to end it once and for all. You're a threat to our way of life."

"Screw your way of life."

"Hope!" She glances towards the Cullen's once more, catching Alice's gaze. "You can do it. Concentrate."

Hope doesn't know what she's supposed to concentrate on, and all she knows is that she's hurt and royally pissed off. Her eyes slip shut and she focuses on breathing.

How dare these witches come after her and the Cullen's when they've done nothing wrong. How dare they call the vampires abominations when witches themselves were an anomaly and not what nature intended either. How dare they think that she, Hope Mikaelson, could be taken down so easily.

Eyes snapping open, Hope momentarily relishes in the gasp that leaves the witch's mouth. She knows her eyes are blazing yellow and she meets the gaze of the shocked witch. "Patere." The witch hovering over her is forcefully thrown away, and with a grunt Hope pulls on her wrists and dislodges the stakes from the ground. She quickly pulls them out, letting the wounds heal as she climbs to her feet.

Hope carefully makes her way towards the Cullen's where the witches are still chanting, she stopping and holding her own hands aloft at her side. Breathing deeply, she concentrates on every witch trying to harm her friends, and then jerks her wrist. There are audible snaps before the witches collapse.

"Adiuuatur." The flames dissolve, and then with a wave her hand the barrier vanishes. Emmett is immediately at her side against Edward and Jasper's warning, but he's gentle with her as he checks her neck and wrists. "It's fine. They healed as soon as the stakes were removed."

The rest of his family gather around and it's Jasper who voices what's on everyone's mind. "Your blood doesn't- it's not tempting us."

"Well I should hope not," Hope muses and then grunts when Emmett suddenly engulfs her in his arms. "I'm a hybrid. Vampire or werewolf blood should not be appetizing to you."

"Huh. Well that's good to know."

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Esme suddenly muses. "What they did was unbelievably violent."

Hope winces, she patting Emmett's sides so he'd let up. He does, but she ends up being tucked under his arm and against his side. She sighs. "I'm good, Esme. Doing magic under duress is just tiresome." The motherly vampire nods along in sympathy. "And I'm sorry about the mess. I don't usually.. kill, but they threatened you and your family. I couldn't let it slide. Where there's one wave, there's bound to be another."

The Cullen's glance around at the dead witches, some glaring that they'd gotten the drop on them and others shrugging as if it were no big deal.

"I'm sorry to have put you on their radar, but I need to speak with Freya. Just for being associated with us, our enemies have now become your enemies." Hope's shoulders droop and she hastily wipes the tears from her eyes. "I should just- I should go. I never should have gotten so comfortable here."

Emmett growls and holds tight as Hope tries to leave. Edward and Jasper both glance at him, realization dawning in their expressions several moments later as Hope frowns up at Emmett who can't quite meet her gaze.

"She's your mate. Isn't she?" Jasper says.

Hope gives Jasper a double take, her eyes narrowing as Edward slowly smirks. She then looks up at Emmett who appears momentarily panicked, his expression then smoothing out into something far too pleased at the knowledge. "Excuse me?"

"How did I not realize this sooner?" Emmett then gently cradles Hope's face in his hands, he staring down at her in awe. Her mouth opens to reply, but then Emmett's hugging her again and her face is pressed into his chest.

Turning so it's her cheek pressed against his solid frame instead of her face and nose, Hope sighs and rolls her eyes. "You can't just hug me and think everything's okay." The rest of his family adopt wary expressions and Hope huffs a laugh as she wraps her arms loosely around his waist. "We're so going to have to talk about this. Later though. I really need to talk to Freya and you guys have bodies to bury.. or burn. Whatever is good with you."

Rosalie breaks the awkward atmosphere by groaning, she then stomping over to the first body. "You owe me, Mikaelson. I wanna be the first to test out the sunlight ring if Freya ever figures out how to make it work for our kind."

"Deal." The squeezing Emmett, she asks, "Can you run me back home?"

"As if you even had to ask."

Emmett's quick to scoop Hope up in his arms, he then vanishing from sight within the blink of an eye.

"How did we not pick up on that sooner?" Jasper suddenly muses. "They've been practically joined at the hip since her first day here."

"I don't care." Alice beams, giggling as she skips over to pick up a dead witch. "I'm just happy to finally have another sister!"

Rosalie huffs. "At least we like this one. That one human who keeps staring at Edward is getting on my last nerve."

"You're just jealous because it's Edward she's set her sights on and the two of you have that weird thing going on," Jasper muses. "Just get married all ready."

Rosalie glares at her twin, she then grumbling as she picks up another body. Edward sighs, punching his brother in the arm. "Thanks for that. She's going to take her anger out on me now."

Jasper waggles his eyebrows. "You're welcome."

     - X - X - X -

Emmett drops off Hope in her back yard, she then running up to the door and throwing it open. Freya startles, but taking in her bloodied niece and the simmering anger practically wafting off of Emmett puts her on alert. Not even their joined hands is enough to distract her. "What happened?"

"Witches."

"Dead witches," Emmett then grumbles.

Hope slowly exhales. Then looking up at Emmett, she squeezes his hand. "Hey. Go hunt," she tells him. "Take some time to calm down while I fill in Freya."

"But-"

"No buts." He frowns, but gives her a terse nod. Bending down he quickly presses a chaste kiss to her forehead and then disappears. Hope grins.

"That's new."

"Tell me about it. Apparently Cold Ones have mates and I'm his. We only just figured it out." Freya's oddly quiet, but when Hope glances at her aunt she sees that her aunt is fighting off a smile. "Don't. Me and him are going to talk about it later. Right now we have a bigger problem."

Slowly Freya collects herself, she then putting away the herbs she's been sorting on the table. "Right. Tell me everything."

     - X - X - X -

Keelin had been given the rest of the day off after Carlisle had been filled in on what was going on, and Hope filled her aunts in on everything. They were a little worried about witches still targeting them after a year of peace, but they promised Hope not to worry about it and that they'd contact Rebekah, Marcel, Kol, and Davina to look into what was going on now.

Hope was still feeling a little wary, but Freya sent her up to shower the blood off and change. She did and then when she went back downstairs she figured she'd find her aunts still discussing the problem at hand. Instead they're discussing Hope.. and her apparent future with Emmett.

"So," Keelin grins from her seat at the table, stirring her hot chocolate, "Emmett, huh? Nice."

"Nope. No. We're not talking about this," she nervously laughs. Hope pulls open the fridge and pulls out a container of apple juice. Pouring herself a glass, she waves off both her aunt's knowing gazes. "Emmett will be stopping by in a bit. We're gonna talk and only talk. I might go on a run afterward so don't freak if my room is empty."

"Sure. Keep the door open!" Freya calls after her.

Choking on her juice, Hope glares over her shoulder at her giggling aunts.

Upstairs in her room, Hope shuts the door and then shoots off a quick text to Emmett. As she waits for him, she finds a stick of sage and lights it, blowing out the flame and smiling as the plumes of smoke waft upward. Sipping her juice she then sets it down in a bowl and turns around, a yelp escaping her mouth at the sight of Emmett casually leaning against the headboard of her bed.

"Dammit, Emmett. I'm gonna spell our yard to alert us when you're lurking if you don't start making noises." She glances down at the floor and then her shirt, making sure she didn't spill her drink. "Oh good. No spillage."

"So what's the verdict? Do I get to defend my mate's honor? And what's with the smoke?"

"No fighting. Yet," she says, making her way towards the bed and gingerly sitting next to him. "And the burning sage is for a privacy spell. Freya and Keelin are a little too invested in our new relationship status, and I have to ruin their fun somehow."

"Killjoy." Hope chuckles and settles against her own headboard, she sipping her juice one last time before setting the glass aside. Settling in, she faces Emmett and he grins. "So it's like this, huh? No weirdness? No crying? No denial?"

"Do you want me to reject you, Em?" She muses. "Playing hard to get seems exhausting. I rather just-" Her words are cut off as Emmett leans in, his lips capturing hers. She laughs against his mouth, trying to properly return his kiss, but not being able to do so as her laughter gets the best of her.

"Seriously?" Emmett pouts.

"I'm sorry." Hope giggles some more, biting the bottom corner of her lip. "You just.. surprised me with your enthusiasm."

If Emmett could blush, there was no doubt he'd be doing so now. "My bad. I've just been wanting to do that for a while."

"Yeah?" Hope's eyes sparkle as she smiles. "Well in that case.." She leans in, stopping just shy of pressing her lips to his. "Then you can wait just a little while longer." Emmett groans. "I need to run and burn off some energy. Run with me?"

"As if you even had to ask."

[randomoranges]

Perfect Cities Painting

 Edward kicked the doormat back into place after he retrieved the keys and let himself in. He had tried knocking several times, but he supposed the loud jazz music coming from the open living room windows had camouflaged his knocks. He didn’t know what he expected to find on the other side of the door, but what he found surprised him.

 Étienne was in the middle of his living room, in front of what looked like an easel and a rather large canvas. Both were placed on top of a stained drop cloth and Étienne stood in front of this, wearing a sleeveless shirt and a pair of sweatpants that were equally stained.

Edward stopped, his breath momentarily taken away by the sight before him. For starters, he had no idea that Étienne painted. His friend had never mentioned it and he had never even seen a painting in the apartment.

 But it wasn’t just his friend’s unknown hobby. It was the way he looked. Étienne, bathed in golden sunlight, his mass of curls tied up in a lose ponytail, the light bringing out the natural highlights of his hair. He watched, mesmerised, as Étienne made broad strokes on the canvas, a look of complete peace and concentration on his face.

 From his angle, Edward could see only one side of Étienne and he observed the muscles of his friend’s left arm at work, the Stanley Cup tattoo that covered most of his upper arm seeming lighter in the afternoon sun.

 If he needed a word to describe the scene, it would have been beautiful.

 Étienne stepped away from his easel to mix more paint and finally noticed his guest. He smiled at Edward and walked over to his radio to lower the volume.

 “Hey! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in! How are you?” Étienne hugged him tightly and kissed him on both cheeks, as he would have an old friend. “Were you supposed to be in town and I forgot, or?” A flash of worry appeared on his face and Edward was quick to dismiss it, reassuring him that this was a rather impulsive and unplanned visit, courtesy of work.

 “You paint.” Edward blurted out as a way of greeting.

 “Yeah, I do. Come in, make yourself comfortable.”

 Étienne took his hand and dragged him to his painting. Edward felt his heart beat a little faster. He looked down at where Étienne’s stained fingers closed around his own and tried to figure out what it was that felt different about his friend.

 “I didn’t know. I’ve never seen you paint before. You never mentioned it.”

 Maybe this was a recent hobby, he figured, but judging by the amounts of tools and material that were set up around the easel, he wasn’t so sure.

 “Oh, yeah. I used to paint a lot more before. Well – I’ve always dabbled, but I picked it up a few decades ago.” Étienne picked up his paintbrush and resumed his piece as if this wasn’t a bombshell and as if Edward didn’t know any better when Étienne said he “dabbled” in something.

 “Really?”

 “Yeah. I was part of this community and we used to paint.”

 “But what about your pieces? I’ve never seen them.”

 Étienne paused and then shrugged. “Oh, we had our own space. I left my stuff there. Then, I either reused the canvases, gave them away, I think I may have sold a few – don’t ask me why, and I might have some in a box in my closet, or something.” He stepped back from his painting, frowned, and then changed paintbrush. “It’s a hobby really. Nothing more. I find it relaxing. I’m not doing this to sell paintings.”

 “You – you have some here?” Edward asked, curious to see some.

 “Yeah, you can look at them if you want.”He sounded so casual and nonchalant that Edward was having difficulty wrapping his head around any of this.

 “Yeah?” Edward would have thought for sure that they were some secret thing, and instead was pleasantly surprised that Étienne wanted to share, even if it seemed rather – sudden and far too easy.

 “Go ahead.”

 Étienne pointed to the entrance closet with the end of his paintbrush and Edward moved towards it. He rummaged through it, knowing Étienne kept odd things in the back of it and he was surprised when he found the box of canvases. He thought the box would have been harder to find and retrospectively, he wondered why he had never stumbled upon it earlier. He pulled it out from the depths of the closet, through the coats, shoes, and other boxes, and then went to the couch to look through it attentively.

 Étienne spared him a glance over his painting and smiled encouragingly.

 Edward was stunned to see the various different sizes of paintings, ranging from tiny to big. There were also sheets of paper with sketches hastily stacked in and a multitude of sketchbooks, piled at the bottom of the box. It didn’t seem as though Étienne cared about preserving his work and Edward wondered why. Edward took out one of the smaller paintings and studied it. It was... he wasn’t sure what was going on in the painting, to be honest, but it was captivating.

 There was an eclectic mix of bold colours placed in such a way that nothing was recognisable. No figures or shapes were distinctive. Yet, the lines were vivid and strong shapes danced before his eyes, giving him the energy of the piece.

 He put it aside and looked at the next piece. It also seemed to be abstract, with bold blue lines juxtaposed with semi-transparent red ones, which went in many directions.

 The same was true for the next several pieces and the sketchbooks held various human like figures that were grotesque in appearance. Yet, despite that, Edward was amazed. Each piece had a strong sense of vibrant energy, from the angry, thick brush strokes, to the juxtaposition of colours and shapes. He didn’t know what they meant, but he could tell that there had been thought placed in the way the colours had been applied to the white canvas.

 “These are great.” He finally said; quiet, as if coming out from a trance. He felt a connection to the pieces, as if part of Étienne was hidden in them, left there for him to find and understand, but the moment his mind started to wrap itself around the message, it was gone, teasing him to look in the next one.

 Étienne laughed. “You don’t have to sugar coat it. I know it’s not everyone’s style.”

 “No, really, I like them. They’re bold.”

 “Well, thanks.” Étienne hid back behind his canvas, focusing on his painting and Edward couldn’t see the emotion hiding on Étienne’s face.

 Edward frowned and changed places so that he could look at Étienne to get a better read on him. He tried to figure out what it was that was different about him on this particular visit.

 Étienne continued to paint, moving about his work, while the jazz music continued playing in the background. Edward felt drawn towards Étienne and the calm energy he seemed to be giving off. He could sit there and watch the other man paint for hours.

 He watched as Étienne knit his brow in concentration and stuck out his tongue. All he wanted to do was get up and kiss him, let Étienne explore his body with those stained hands and wild eyes. He looked back to his face, to his wide green eyes and finally knew what it was that was different about him.

 “You’re happy.” He murmured voice thick with awe and want. He rose from his seat and went to stand next to Étienne, arms itching to wrap around him, hold him close and feel him pressed to his chest.

 His friend looked away from the smeared canvas and gave him a quizzical look. “I guess? I mean, painting makes me happy.”

 “It looks good on you.” He admitted. The openness in his eyes, the carefree attitude with which he moved; it was as if Étienne’s guard was down and Edward could glimpse a part of him that was often hidden and closed off to all. He needed to taste and see this side of him that he seldom saw. Needed to feel it to make sure it was real and that he hadn’t dreamt any of it.

 Edward stepped behind Étienne and leaned his chin on the other’s shoulder, feeling him move as he continued to work. His friend laughed and leant back into him, letting himself be held.

 “I could paint you next, if you want.” Étienne suggested, a smirk playing on his lips, and how Edward wanted nothing more but to turn him around and let him do that and more.

 “Are you implying something by that?” He asked, his voice low, breath ghosting on Étienne’s neck. He was no stranger to Étienne’s games and he knew that the best thing to do was to follow along – he could always get something out of it as well.

 “Only if you want me to.”

 “Good. Then why don’t you finish up over there and then you can redirect your attention to me. ”

 He nipped at Étienne’s neck, passing his hands under his shirt, feeling warm skin. Étienne stilled and then relaxed under the familiar touch, shivering slightly at the contact, but he couldn’t say he minded. Edward gave a content sigh, feeling at ease with Étienne there in his arms, the way he sometimes wished it could always be.

 “Give me a moment and I’m all yours.”

 --

 Edward rolled over on the drop cloth and pulled Étienne’s body to him. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Étienne’s neck, his hand caressing down the length of the rose and lily ivy tattoo on his body, before resting on his hip. Étienne turned to face him and he was blown away by the strong look of joy on his face. For a moment, Edward thought he read something else in those green eyes he had come to like – more than he could have ever thought he would – but then Étienne drew him close and kissed him, his eyes fluttering shut. Edward forgot about it and instead focused on Étienne, here in his arms, his body warm and welcoming.

 FIN 27

 Started writing: February 19th 2017, 11:23pm

Finished writing: February 20th 2017, 5:50pm

Started typing: April 16th 2017, 1:05pm

Finished typing: April 16th 2017, 2:04pm

[fordanoia]

This Is What Dreams Are Made Of

Words: 1,900~ || CW: — || The parallel fic to ‘Hey Now, Hey Now.’ This time, Mabel’s Dream Bubble - But if Stan had been there for it. Following shortly after Wendy and Soos leave with their dream bubble father and friends.

-

“Hey, listen kid - go find Wendy, I’ll round up Soos. Let him play catch for five minutes then get him back, easy.”

Dipper nodded and set off.

Stan sighed, walked along for a while until he heard a familiar voice happily calling out for him.

“Stanley!”

“Ford?” He turned, seeing his brother hopping off a boat in the middle of the bouncy ground floor.

“Oh, so much for being captured, let me guess you already made it out, huh. This was exactly why I tried telling everyone to not even bother.” Stan gestured at him. “Congratulations on rescuing yourself.”

Ford’s face turned a bit sad, but there was no bitter or angry expression. “Stanley, listen I-”

“Wait a damn second, you’re from this bubble, aren’t you?” Stan interrupted.

Ford paused, shrugging. “Well- yes, but I-”

“Oh, isn’t that just great.” He crossed his arms over each other. “Gotta deal with an apocalypse and another version of you.”

Ford frowned, walking over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Please, give me a chance.”

“For what?” Whatever it was, he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“To tell you I was wrong.” Ford said.

“...what?” Stan blinked at him.

“Yes.” Ford took a breath. “You were right, Stanley, and I should have realized that beforehand. I never even thanked you for saving me.”

“Ya still haven’t actually.” Stan couldn’t help pointing out, and as soon as it slipped out he was ready for the jaded reply.

Instead, Ford half laughed, smiling. “An accurate assessment... Thank you, Stanley. I wouldn’t have ever gotten back home if it wasn’t for you.”

Stan’s chest felt a bit lighter, but not by much. “That’s great and all, but it’s a load of bull.” He said crossing his arms. “That punch in the face is a good enough reminder here that the great Stanford Pines isn’t grateful for me rescuing his butt.”

“That was wrong of me. There was a lot going on why I acted that way, but that’s no excuse... Not after you spent the past thirty years working every night to get me back.”

“Talking like you’re supposed to be him, huh.”

“Well, technically speaking, I am. Just a different version, like you said.”

Stan’s face pulled into a deep frown, and he didn’t say anything to that.

The silence held for a few seconds, then Ford continued, changing the subject. “Are you looking for Wendy and Soos?”

He shrugged. “Finding Soos is easy enough, just gonna go and grab Wendy. Convincing them to come along won’t be hard. Just gotta tell them to get off their butts and stop playing around.”

“That makes sense, they’ll listen to you, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” Stan’s voice started to rise, sarcasm quickly filtering in until it was dripping from every word, “that’s the easy part. The hard part is trying and talking to Mabel, you know. Thanks to that oh so great and generous apprenticeship you offered Dipper!” He finally shot a scathing look at Ford.

When he didn’t say anything, just looking back at him with a slight look of guilt on his face - Stan continued.

“Thanks for that, by the way. I asked you to do ONE thing.” He held up a finger. “Just one- stay away from the kids, and look what you’ve done! I’ve never seen a pair of siblings get along like that before, but lo and behold you’re around one of ‘em for what? A couple weeks - and just look!” Stan let his frustration build, gesturing around roughly before jabbing a finger at Ford’s chest. It wasn’t really Ford so he didn’t have to hold back a single bit.

Everything poured out of him like the toxic waste stewing away in containers of the basement. “Of course, you’d split them up, Ford. You probably don’t even see what’s wrong with it. I should never have let Dipper hang around you.”

“I figured, hey - what’s the worst that could happen? You’d keep him safe at least, right? Kid’s been around enough spookums, he at least knows when something’s too dangerous. You cared enough about the kids, didn’t you? Enough that they’d be fine for a couple weeks, but no.”

“This is why I didn’t want you anywhere near the kids. I knew if it wasn’t one thing, it’d be another.”

“It wasn’t my intention, I’m sorry.” Ford told him genuinely.

Stan scoffed, contempt freely bubbling up his throat. “Because of you Mabel would rather live here than go out in the real world without a brother. She didn’t deserve this, you hear me.” His voice had been simmering, but like a switch had been flipped he started yelling in Ford’s face again - anger boiling over.

“She’s TWELVE years old, and she’s already losing her brother- because of you, Stanford!” He jabbed a finger at him again, walking towards him and making Ford take a couple steps back as he shouted. “This is all your fault! You’re ruining their lives! I should never have brought you back, damn it!” At that he roughly shoved him so hard, that it was a miracle he didn’t actually fall over.

Ford stumbled backwards, managing to catch his footing before outright falling. He took in a breath, his chest rising, and falling back down - simply just taking the words without so much as a flicker of anger across his face.

Stan breathed heavily for a few moments, all the boiling anger so high it felt like it was he was wading in a thick liquid that was all the way up against his throat. It felt like the liquid was draining away, falling lower, and then Stan realized through the haze what he’d just said.

Even worse though, he still felt it, and honestly? Maybe it wouldn’t have been better... at least Mabel and Dipper would have been fine...

Ford wouldn’t have though... so he probably would have done it again anyways... even if it was stupid. That’s just what he was though, wasn’t he...

“You were right to try and keep the kids away from me... I should have been more aware of what I was doing.” Ford said, calmly apologetic. “I’ll rescind the apprenticeship offer. A kid such as Dipper should be playing and in school, not doing some research away from everyone.”

“He’s still gonna want to go off with you.” Stan said, jaded.

“I’ll make it sound reasonable. A high school degree is necessary for any good college. I’ll just tell him it’ll have to wait until after high school. He’ll forget about it by the time he graduates. Him and Mabel will go back to how they were before I stepped in.” Ford assured him. “They’ll stick together.”

Stan didn’t say anything to that. It would have been a lot better if it’d been coming from the real Ford. “Whatever. I’m going to look for Wendy,” he eventually said, “group of teenagers shouldn’t be that hard to find.”

“Can I help?”

“I don’t care what you do.” Stan replied. As he started walking, Ford went along with him without hesitating.

-----

Ford brought it up again later, as though trying to make him feel better.

Stan leaned his head against his hands. “It’s just not gonna work, Sixer...”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “You came from here - Dipper won’t listen to you.” As much as he wish it could work...

“He doesn’t have to know that.”

Stan was taken back, and lifted his head to look over at Ford. “What?”

“Well, I’m the only version that can talk to him.” He glanced away briefly. “That other one - is just some frozen statue. He’s not doing anything.” He explained easily. “All you have to do is tell him you found me, and saved me. I’ll tell him the apprenticeship is over, and Dipper and Mabel can reconnect inside this bubble. It’s the perfect place for them.”

“What about when the kids want to go out and stop Bill?” Stan asked, something uneasy sliding into his stomach at the way Ford was talking.

“We just tell them it’s too dangerous. Time is at a standstill after all, so there’s no rush, is there? We can even tell them we’re going off to look for a solution.” Ford continued.

“Not sure about all that.” Stan said slowly. It was a good plan though. It could definitely work. Between a life-like image of his brother and himself both telling the kids to stay put, it’d work. Dipper would trust Ford that they were working on something to stop Bill, and Mabel didn’t even want to leave, of course. It was full-proof.

Ford frowned slightly. “We would finally get to go sailing, Stan...”

Stan had to retrace his thoughts, his heart leaping up at that before he drudged it back down again. “We would?” He asked hesitantly.

He started to smile, face lighting up as he talked. “Yes. Yes, we would! There’s a sea out there, Mabeland can make it as big as we want - with whatever islands we could ever want to explore. Come on, just think about it, Stan!” He encouraged him, a hand on his shoulder. “This is finally our chance to go sailing and treasure hunting. Let’s take it.”

It was smooth and warm and as tempting to swallow down as a cup of hot cocoa, just sitting right there for him. Stan blinked back tears at his brother’s face so earnestly excited and actually wanting to go sailing with him, like they were both a couple of kids again - but this time they could actually do it. There was already a boat and everything.

“We won’t have this chance outside the bubble, Stanley. This is the only way we can do it.” Limited time offer. Buy now.

He had to take a moment, bite back on what he wanted to say, then pull himself through to actually talk. “Nice pitch.” Stan finally said. “I’m not buying it though.”

As Stan went to brush its hand off of him, its other intervened and grabbed onto his shoulder to be directly facing him. “Tell me why not.” It asked in earnest.

“Because you’re not him.” The words came out all on their own.

“After everything, you deserve to go treasure hunting with a brother who wants to go with you.” It said. “Even if you fix everything, he won’t want to go sailing with you.”

One Time Only Deal! Get it before it’s g o n e

Stan wound his fist back and punched it right in the face, the thing spilling backwards. “Yeah, well you know what - maybe I never had a brother that actually wanted to go treasure hunting with me. Guess what though - I also don’t want a fake one who does.”

It sat up from the ground, glasses oddly reflecting to hide the eyes. “...What about Mabel and Dipper?”

“They’re better than we were. Plus, they’re smart kids. They’d figure out you’re not real pretty quick, pal.”

Just like that its skin turned to dark crawling bugs and the atmosphere changed around him, turning dark.

Stan shouted at the sudden change, whipping his head from the figure crumpling into a pile of twenty different kinds of bugs in front of him to literal blood red sand.

A cheerful noise caught his attention and he checked behind himself to see a distant small horse with wings singing and when he glanced back again, just like that - everything was back to what he guessed counted as normal here.

“Okay, I’ve had my fill of creepy stuff here, thanks.” He stepped his way around the spot the other had been at and ran off to find the kids again.

[whoacanada]

Zimbits fic  - ‘I know you are, but what am I?’

Magic AU, inspired by ‘The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina’

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: After the Falconers take the Stanley Cup, Eric begins to notice his life changing in unwelcome ways. Good thing he has a loving partner who would never hide anything from him. 

Right?

Notes: Witchcraft. Nothing too intense, if you’ve seen the netflix show, that’s worse than this.

Crossposted to Ao3

“MooMaw? This is Jack, he’s a friend from college.”

Bitty's grandmother bypasses Jack’s outstretched hand and slaps her hands firmly on Jack’s cheeks, pulling him down to stare him in the eye. She’s small enough Jack has to bend at the waist, but she seems to appreciate his cooperation, even as the rest of the family begin stammering apologies.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Jack says, words muffled by the hands squishing his face. She narrows her eyes at him and looks past a horrified Suzanne to Bitty, who is probably bright red with embarrassment. Rightly so.

“You didn’t tell me he’d been touched, Dicky.”

At the time, Bitty had been so horrified he hadn't quite caught the intent of what his grandmother had said. 

“I’m sure the boys are tired, mother,” Suzanne interjects with a forced smile nudging them both toward the stairs. “Dicky, you want to show Jack where he’ll be sleeping?”

In retrospect, Bitty should have seen the signs for what they were.

In the months following the Falconers’ title, and Bitty’s own glorious rise into the court of public opinion thanks to his lack of foresight, life had been good. Then, suddenly, almost overnight, it wasn’t.

Between classes in Samwell and and nights with Jack in Providence, Bitty tries to sleep. When he manages to, he dreams. If they can be called ‘dreams’. Terrible nightmares and beautiful visions come in equal measure. Every night, every nap, he’s given another piece of a puzzle he can’t hope to comprehend. He wakes up more exhausted than when he laid down and most mornings he’ll wake up and stare out the window to watch the sun rise. It’s as much as he can manage — to let nature handle whatever is happening within him.  

Eventually, Bitty can’t sleep at all. By the seventh night, unable to vlog, and eating ice cream straight from the carton in an effort to stay awake, Bitty gives up.

Jack's season is over so Bitty has no guilt about kicking his boyfriend awake.  

"Hnn?" Jack rolls over and looks at Bitty blearily. "Whatzit? Bits?"  

"I can't sleep."

Jack drifts back under almost immediately and Bitty resists the urge to drag him off the bed in retaliation. At least for the time being, he's in this alone.

The extra linens are in the hall closet — Bitty doesn't bother with stealing blankets from beneath Jack's sprawled body, star-fished across the entire bed like he's half-Kudzu.

"Rude," Bitty whispers, tickling behind Jack's knee to make him twitch so Bitty can snatch Señor Bun from where he's being crushed beneath Jack's thigh. He throws on Netflix in the living room, wraps up in a heavy quilt, and spends the rest of the morning regretting his life decisions.

When Jack finally emerges from the bedroom at 6am, Bitty greets him with an exhausted, guilt-inducing, "I can't live like this." Jack, bless him, takes the hint and immediately starts on making breakfast; a real one with omelets and bacon and a noticeable lack of protein powder.

"You should call in," Jack insists when Bitty can barely keep his eyes open long enough to feed himself. "You're exhausted."

"Something's wrong. With me. With the bed. Something. I can't work if I can't sleep. Can't do anything if I can't sleep."

Bitty startles when a fork appears in front of him: a neat, steaming square of egg held patiently by his partner. He doesn’t remember seeing Jack actually cooking, only prepping.

"You nodded off," Jack says, answering a question Bitty hasn’t asked, and he almost misses the look of knowing concern that flits over Jack's features. Empathy at best, sympathy at worst. "Open up. You need to eat something."

"You don't have to feed me," Bitty protests, even as he opens his mouth.

"Started after the Cup? Just insomnia?" Jack continues, cutting another piece of the omelette before feeding it to Bitty.

"Nightmares. Mostly. Then insomnia."

"Hmm."

"What, you think you know what it is?"

"I have an idea," Jack hands back the fork and scoots back from the table, running a hand along Bitty's back as he heads back to the kitchen. “You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

"Hon?"

Jack is quiet long enough Bitty thinks he may have left the room. Instead, when he looks up, he finds Jack intently tapping on his phone.

"You should call in today," Jack repeats, this time as an order, not looking up from the device. "My parents are still in town and Maman has been bugging me about spending quality time with you. Use that spa package the Falcs gave us. Go spend the day with her, see if you can relax. I'll have a new mattress by the time you get back."

"You don't have to do that, it's just me being me. Much as I love your mother.”

"What's the point of having this life if I can't take care of you?" Jack's gaze flicks back up to Bitty, distant, like his attention is suddenly on another matter entirely. “Let me do this.”

Bitty gives in because, really, what else can he do?

Truth be told, Bitty can’t remember all of what happened between leaving the apartment, meeting Alicia (”Oh, you poor thing.”), and ending up back home. 

True to Jack's word, there's a new mattress on their bed: a delightfully plush pillow top that seems to be off-gassing lavender; but the relaxing scent is warring with something pungent and curiously damning.

"Is that sage?" Bitty asks, taking off his coat.

“Smudging. Shitty's idea," Jack admits, sniffing reflexively. "Get out the bad energy. Or something. Worth a shot."

“Oh, here.” Jack hands Bitty a slip of paper, on it, a note written in Jack’s own scratchy hand, is a string of French Bitty is ashamed to admit he still doesn’t understand. “For relaxation. You say it in the shower, before bed, anytime you need to calm down.”

Bitty falls face first onto the bare mattress, and, for the first time in what feels like weeks, he’s out like a light.

“What are we making today,” Jack hands Eric a single egg, eyebrows dancing. “Taking suggestions?”

“You wish, this is for Angelique in the front office. Promise made, promise kept—” Eric splits the egg and a red, bloody yolk drops into the the batter, startling them both.

“Crisse,” Jack curses, snatching the bowl to inspect it before dumping the whole mess in the trash.

“Ugh. No brownies, then?” Eric jokes, trying to calm himself as Jack takes the carton from the fridge and cracks another egg over the trash. This one is fine: a healthy, expected orange. “I’ve never seen that before? I’ve been cooking my entire life, MooMaw had chickens and I’ve never—”

“It happens sometimes,” Jack grouses, breaking normal egg after normal egg before handing Eric the last one still clutched safely in his fist. “Here. Try again.”

“Just throw out the whole mess, hon,” Eric waves Jack’s hand away but the man is insistent. “I’ll go to the market and try a different brand. Maybe this wasn’t the best plan for today.”

“One more, for me,” Jack urges. “I’ll buy more. Just, please.”

“Money is not the issue, here,” Eric takes the blue-green egg from Jack’s palm and cracks it on the edge of a spare bowl. He misjudges the strength of the shell and the whole thing crushes between his fingers, smearing rancid red and black all over the counter.

“Fuck! What’s wrong with it?!”

“…Spoiled.” Jack spits, snatching a dishtowel from the oven. The explanation makes zero sense to Eric, not that he’s level headed enough to think it through when the smell hits him.

“Oh, Lord, I’m gonna be sick —”

“Bath,” Jack blurts, guiding Eric to the sink, tapping the faucet on. “You need to take a bath. Right now. I’ll get the water started.”

“Wait, Jack —”

But he’s already gone.

“I just took a shower,” Eric laments, trying not to look down as he scrubs the gunk from his hands and under his nails. “But I guess this is disgusting enough to warrant another one.”

“Bath,” Jack calls from the bedroom. “No showers. Rinse it off and come in here.”

Jack's got the water running and at least six of Eric's good beeswax 'date-night' candles lit.

"We aren't making rancid egg goo sexy, are we?"

"Of course not," Jack's taking off his shirt which implies otherwise. "I'm gross, too."

"Yeah, you are," Bitty is trying to be playful but there's still red under his nails.

"Get in. You first."

Bitty’s barely settled when Jack slides in behind him, water sloshing dangerously close to the top of the tub, never quite going over. It’s nice. They haven’t done this in a while. Too long. Though, this doesn’t feel much like a romantic evening, more like a disgusting afternoon as Jack loops his arms around Bitty’s torso and holds him tight, murmuring something not quite English, not quite French, in a soothing, but hurried tone.

“Bits?” Jack, breaks for a moment, running his fingers over something on Eric’s hip. “What is this?”

“Hmm?” Eric looks down and finds Jack poking at his birthmark with no small measure of interest. “What?”

“I don’t remember having seen it before.”

“Oh, that darn thing? I’ve had it forever. Usually, I throw a little concealer over it or something.”

“Since when? Doesn't matter. That seems like a lot of effort for a birthmark. It’s not ugly, and I’ve never noticed it before now.”

“Oh, I hate it. I’d get it removed but no dermatologist I’ve seen will touch it. Who knows.”

“Who wanted it removed? You?”

“My grandmother,” Eric sighs, reaching down to poke where Jack’s fingers are resting. “Not MooMaw, Coach’s mother, Grandma Catherine. Apparently, she wouldn’t hold me as a baby because she thought it was a bad omen,” Bitty doesn’t mention how she’d terrorized his poor mother and ultimately ended up banned from the Bittle-Phelps household.

“She sounds like a bitch,” Jack mutters after a moment, catching Eric’s hand beneath the water, lacing their fingers.

“She was,” Bitty breathes, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch as Jack begins whispering again.

Bitty startles, phone falling between the pillows and hitting the floor with a low thud. He can't reach it.

"Of course," Bitty sighs, kicking off the sheets to slide out of bed and start a blind search. He doesn't find his phone immediately, though he does feel a mess of dirt and grime beneath his fingers. "Our cleaning service has not been doing a great job," Bitty complains to himself, finally getting a grip on his phone. "Gonna have to tell Jack — ”

When he pulls back his hand is covered in dust. His phone as well. Far too much to be explained away by a lazy cleaning crew. Or maybe just a lazy boyfriend.

Bitty grabs the base of the bed and pulls, frame squealing in protest of the action, and when he's made enough progress Bitty turns on his flashlight and illuminates half of a good sized ring of something that had previously been directly under his and Jack's bed. It's dark lines of paint, crushed leaves, a puck, and —

"Señor Bun!"

Bitty snatches his stuffed rabbit from the center of the circle and hugs him tight, trying not to overreact about whatever mildly-satanic insanity has been going on beneath him while he sleeps. Bitty snaps a photo of the scene and texts it to Jack with a succinct message of 'Please tell me this is you'.

"Don't you lie to me, Mister," Bitty whispers, dragging the bed back to cover the symbols like somehow covering it back up will make it go away.

Jack's reply is immediate.

‘Oh you found it’

[…]

‘Happy Halloween?’

“Bullshit,” Bitty growls, clutching Bun tight. “You hate Halloween.”

He texts Jack as much.

“Bits, look at me,” Jack holds his gaze firmly, though he’s attempting to be playful. “We’re going to do some word association, alright? I’m going to say some things and you just answer with the first thing that pops into your mind.”

“Okay,” Eric laughs. “If we must.”

“Alright, let’s start now. Ready?”

“Sure.”

“Dark Lord.”

“Voldemort.”

“Coven.”

“Jessica Lange.”

“Uh, how about ‘familiar’?”

“Overly,” Eric winks.

This isn’t the answer Jack seems to be looking for.

“Fuck,” Jack sighs.

“Me?” Eric chirps, earning a playful, halfhearted shove in return.

“Easy --”

“You.”

“Shut up,” Jack tugs Eric into his lap and snuggles him tightly. “Game’s over.”

“Well, you are. Easy, that is,” Eric laughs between kisses. “You did this to yourself! With your spooky wordplay.”

“You really are clueless, aren’t you?” Jack mumbles, pressing his lips to Bitty’s neck.

“Ouch,” Bitty swats his boyfriend’s arm. “Unnecessary.”

Jack dodges the comment and goes quiet, his lips still against Bitty’s skin as if someone has pressed a pause button on their evening.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jack says finally. “About me, and I really don’t want to scare you.”

“You cheatin’ on me?”

It’s the first thing that pops into Bitty’s head and he feels foolish for even saying it aloud when Jack snorts and shakes his head; which Bitty feels more than sees.

"Fuck no. Not in a million years. This is different. When I turned 16, I had to make a decision,” Jack awkwardly maneuvers around Bitty to stand them face-to-face. "I got lucky, because of my parents, their standing, but I . . . you know I'm not like everyone else, right?" Jack says, resting his hand on Bitty's cheek in what he probably intends to be a comforting gesture. “The others?”

“You’re . . . talking about the draft, right?” Bitty hazards.

Jack frowns, expression far too sober for Bitty to play this off as a joke, and holds his other hand up, revealing a small, violet flame cupped in his palm; so small and quaint it could be mistaken for a party trick. Bitty doesn’t even hear Jack’s warning as he reaches out to touch.

“What! How are you doing that -- Ow!”

“It's fire, bud,” Jack chastises, immediately checking the burn. 

“Because purple fire is normal,” Bitty sticks his finger in his mouth and glares at Jack before the weight of the moment catches up to him. “How did you do that?”

“I’m a member of the Church of Night.”

“Which is what.”

“I have supernatural abilities.”

"So, you're, like, a witch, then?"

“Give me your finger,” Jack tugs Bitty’s hand from his mouth and kisses the burn before whispering something against the red skin. The pain vanishes alongside the mark, which is not the most troubling part about the moment they're sharing. “Warlock,” Jack corrects, swiping a bit of stray saliva from the corner of his lip. “Try again,” the light dancing in Jack's palm is back, larger and terribly enticing. “Go on, Bits, it won’t hurt you, now that I know you’re just gonna go for it.”

Bitty reaches out a second time and Jack doesn’t recoil as the purple flames, cool to the touch, grow larger and dance between Bitty's fingers.

“You’re taking this really well.”

"This doesn't seem so scary," Bitty admits, leaning into the half truth as he pulls back to check his skin for any burns; Jack makes a fist, extinguishing the flame.

In another world Bitty actually possesses the confidence he's pretending to exude. In reality, he's low-key terrified; fighting off an existential crisis and trying to keep his composure as the man he loves tells him not only that magic is real, but that he himself is some kind of witch, and not a fun one. He’s something much more traditional that Bitty has not been raised to be comfortable with.

"Pyrokenisis is difficult," Jack defends, sounding like his old self again. "Most don't attempt it until they have years of experience with conjuration."

Just like that they're back to normal. Jack's air of mystery vanishes as he petulantly snaps another flame into existence, this one almost white and much larger. Bitty has flashes of his freshman year when a Quinnipiac d-man doubted the strength of Jack's slap-shot and Jack 'accidentally' cracked a pane of glass on the next shift.

Classic Zimmermann ego.

"Not just a hockey prodigy, then? Kind of a big deal off the ice, too, I bet," Bitty teases, hiding his fear behind humor as Jack goes pink and the flame falters. "You ever cursed anyone?"

Bitty watches Jack's left eyebrow twitch.

"Who was it?"

Jack's lips thin, though Bitty can tell the gesture isn't in irritation at being caught. The man is fighting a smile.

"It doesn't matter. Anything that happened was deserved."

"In that case, I have a lot of questions?" Bitty says once he's rediscovered his voice.

"And I'll answer all of them," Jack insists, bravado vanishing as he sags with relief. "Soon. Promise. Everything and anything you want to know."

"Have to admit, I'm a little intimidated," Bitty steps into Jack's space and allows himself to be pulled into his boyfriend's arms, trying not to tense. "Silly me, thinking I was the only secret you were hiding."

"I can have secrets. Makes me interesting." Jack runs his hand along Bitty's back.

“Makes you stressed,” Bitty counters.

“Also true.”

"What does all of this mean for me?"

"I don't know, yet. Still trying to figure that part out."

Bitty takes a moment to think about his life, then grabs Jack’s hand and drags him to their bedroom. He leaves Jack standing in the doorway to grab the corner of the bed frame and drag it sideways, revealing the madness beneath.

“Explain.”

"It's a protection ward." Jack doesn't miss a beat. "I laid it down after the egg incident. Didn't want to risk anything happening."

"To me."

"To you." Jack affirms, walking across the room to kneel and nudge a stone back into shape. "I have enough wards on me the only person who can hurt me is me, evidently," Jack looks up, apologetic. "I was worried about all the attention on you."

"If it’s for protection, does that mean people want to hurt me?"

Jack licks his thumb and smears something that could be ink. Or paint. Its viscous, a dark color Bitty can't identify and doesn’t want to examine too closely.

"One would be too many for me," Jack answers, wiping his hand on his jeans. "Better safe than sorry."

"Okay, so," Bitty kneels down beside his boyfriend and points at an off-white lump in the leaf pile. "Is this a tooth?"

The sheepish look is back.

"Euh, yeah, don't worry, it's one of mine."

"Oh, that doesn't make me not worry, Sugar. Not reassuring at all,” Bitty toes a leaf over the tooth, hiding it from view. “Don’t recall much human bits in the ‘good magic’ column.”

Jack flashes a smile, like they’re sharing a secret. Which, Eric realizes, they are.

“This isn’t like tv, bud. Though it doesn’t do itself any favors in the way of aesthetic, I’ll admit that much.”

“Can you…show me, um,” Eric nudges a leaf with his socked toe. “Some more? Maybe?”

The smile on Jack’s face is as wide and bright as Bitty has ever seen.

“Yeah, bud, I’d love to.”