#more like this Needs to happen or else im going to sob in agony | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aetherarf · 3 years

Note

Hi hello i saw your requests are open!! And i dont know if this is allowed but can you do genshin boys caught cheating and they played it off and later on they started to regret what they did and when they found the reader, the reader is now happy or disappeared or idk ITS UP TO YOU TO DEICIDE HEHEHEHE IM SORRY I LOVE READING ANGST SM SO ITS OKAY IF YOU WONT TAKE IT !! YOUR WORKS ARE REALLY GREAT BTW!!! (more than great i mean *chefs kiss*)

Yes I've finally gotten to this one! I hope it's angsty enough for you 😘

[[ WARNING: CHEATING, NON-LETHAL INJURY, ALCOHOL ]]

[[ Summary: Kaeya, Childe, and Diluc end up cheating on their partner... They get caught, not by their partner, but someone else. As the days pass, they begin to regret it... only for their little secret to get back to their lover...

Note, Kaeya's is longest/wordiest cuz I didn't realize I should probably be a bit more brief... Kaeya favouritism lol.

Overall Word Count: 3'602 [rip me]

Kaeya Word Count: 1'841

Childe Word Count: 950

Diluc Word Count: 811 ]]

Kaeya

Distantly, he remembers an old saying from Crepus, in response to his question-- "Why do people drink so much?"

"Well... Alcohol doesn't solve anything, but it can make you forget questions you'd rather not think about."

He understood that as he got older. Why stress, and think about things he could not control? ... Well, maybe he should deal with them, but that's easier said than done when his entire life was on the line. Every night, in the tavern, he drank to forget. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

And, somehow, he had forgotten more than he'd like to admit. On his lap, a beautiful woman, and he was tugged to a back closet of the Angel's Share. She tasted sweet, like wine and sugar. If it wasn't for an intruder, ( despite the fact that he was the one intruding into staff-only area ) he likely would have had a far better time, to completely lose himself in his inebriation.

"K-Kaeya!" Uh oh, as his vision focused, he could see Diluc's unmistakable silhouette, with that fluffy red hair and broad shoulders. "You," he pointed to the woman, "Out." The woman, not wanting to envoke the wrath of Sir Ragnvindr, running out immediately. But, Diluc didn't let Kaeya out, not that he was fighting to get out. Instead, he walked closer.

"What have you done?" he asked, voice low and full of rage. However, Kaeya could only smile,

"What do you mean, Master Ragnvindr?" He asked, all sly.

"You cheater," he snapped, "You do know that wasn't your partner? The one you swore yourself to? They were just looking for you, you know." He was nearly yelling, forcing his voice low...

And that, that idea, the realization of everything hit him harder than even the biggest bomb's that Klee had ever made. He... did.

"Look," The world was no longer warm an fuzzy, just a little shift away from his normal reality, everything crashing down. The thoughts that haunted him when you slept so peacefully in his arms, when he would see the knights laughing and smiling together, the ever-haunting knowledge that he was alone amongst them...

The way only you did not have that odd look in your eye, of wonder upon seeing something unique, or of something alien that terrified... You only looked at him as what he wished to be seen-a person.

And here he went, fucking it all up.

"Look," he said again, tears in his eye, "You, you can't tell anyone," He all but snapped at Diluc, who's eyes widened in shock, "I-I wouldn't tell if you did it, you have to do the same for me," he promised, desperately trying to think of what to do...

"Kaeya, this isn't about me, this is about you and-and them," Diluc didn't even need to say the name, "You're better than this, I won't tell, but only if you do."

Kaeya's brows furrowed, he wasn't used to feeling so... betrayed. Normally, it was expected, but this... but this was different! Wasn't it...?

"It has nothing to do with you, I... I can deal with it on my own, 'Luc." He insisted, straightening out his back. He was only a tiny bit taller than Diluc, but he wanted to hold it over him, to prove he wasn't going to let him use him over his... his mistake.

"Kaeya," his voice was... softer. Kaeya didn't want to hear this voice, this consoling voice. Not after everything, not... not like this!

"Fuck off, Diluc," he snapped, pushing him to the wall as he stormed out, "You made it clear you want nothing to do with me, don't try now. Not like this," he demanded, seeing Diluc look at him, eyes wide... shocked.

"Fine. Get out and don't come back." Diluc hissed, voice much lower, his eyes glazed over. Kaeya almost wanted to yell at him, to keep fighting... But, no, no, he didn't. He couldn't do that here, not when he was too desperate to figure out what to do, leaving through the front of Angel's Share, slamming the door behind him.

And he ran. He didn't know why, he wasn't headed home, but he just... he felt like he was running from his mistakes, the wind biting at his face, until he finally skidded into an alleyway, his back against the wall, his hand put up to his mouth, biting at the base of his thumb to stifle the sobs that wanted to burst from his chest. It hurt, oh, it hurt, but it felt... right, it felt like he should hurt, his teeth clasping harder onto his hand, tears rolling from his eye as he roughly breathed through his nostrils, his brain desperately trying to figure out what to do, what to say, what to think... But it all only ended up in a jumbled mess, of black and red and tears and crying.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time he stopped biting his hand, it felt... hot, for some reason, and as he looked at his hand...

Red. Bite marks. His teeth had sunk in so deep, his skin was broken and reddened and bloody. He couldn't even feel the pain, like when the burning fire had turned to grey, dead embers... he felt nothing, his own bodily sensations distant in an odd way.

He doesn't even know why, but upon seeing his blood ooze from his flesh, he swing his fist towards the brick, hearing it clatter against it. He stared at his hand, pulling off his glove to stare, dazed, at his busted knuckles.

Holding his fist close to his chest, he finally walked home.

If I don't tell them, he thought, I can live with it. I've lived with worse. I live with worse.

He didn't want to.

But he did that-he cheated. He cheated on the one person that could make everything feel okay, like he never hurt anyone, like he wasn't from a distant corrupt land, like he wasn't the monster he was told to be.

Should he say it? Tell directly?

...

It wouldn't matter if he told immediately or in a week. He-he trusted you'd understand, he could... He could figure it out. He just, his brain was both sinking and floating, drunk yet sober, he wasn't in his own body right about now. He was somewhere gone, and he couldn't be making any decisions.

Shambling his way home, he opened the front door... And hesitated, listening. Looking. You weren't in eyeshot or earshot, so... He could wrap up his hand before he gave everything away, or at least, his temper tantrum of sorts. He rummaged around before finding that small first aide kit, cleaning the wounds of his own cause, and bandaged up his hand... for a second, he tensed, hearing your footsteps, but he opted to finish wrapping it before you could see.

"Kaeyaaa..." You whined, "You didn't come to bed..." You walked over, hugging him from the side, resting your head on him. How sweet you were, how cuddly... As though nothing happened.

"I'll come to bed in a minute," he said, "I just need to finish this real quick."

You peeked over to look at whatever he was messing with, and woke up in an instant, reaching over to his hand as he was tucking the end of the bandage away, so it wouldn't unravel so easily. "What happened?" You asked, tenderly holding his injured hand with both of yours.

"Nothing to be worried about," he reassured, trying to hide how his voice shook, "Just wanted to patch it up."

With one hand, you gently stroked his, and then lifted it to your mouth to give a loving kiss atop it. "Are you okay to come to bed?" You asked, still tired from the late hour.

"Of course," he wanted to kiss you, badly, but he refrained. You shouldn't, Kaeya, your mouth is dirty.

The two of you walked to bed, he undressing just enough to comfortably lie down...

Feeling how you snuggled up to him, sighing in such comfort now that he was home, and how you soon became a weight upon him as you sunk back into sleep...

However, he did not sleep that night. Or the next, or the next... Or the next.

Days, truly, passed. He did not sleep, he was not sleeping, Jean even scolded him for blacking out more than once, stunned when one second he was standing, and the next he was on the ground, no memory of having fallen, with the knights consoling him.

He started staying later, he had not gone back to the Angel's Share. Many mornings, he was not there when you woke. You knew he was busy, but... this was horrific.

Eventually, two weeks have passed. He steeled his nerves, and he was going to talk to you about it. He didn't want to live like this, with this guilt and agony upon the things he could not fix--but he could fix this. He could-he could make this better.

But, as he walked into your shared home... an eerie silence. As he looked around, it felt like... a lot was missing.

Everything that was missing, from simple objects placed about to pictures on the walls, were all yours. Of you.

Save for a single picture frame, with shattered glass, and a picture of him and you, smiling. It was one of the more coherent pictures the two of you had made.

Beside it, a note.

Dear Kaeya,

A woman came to me recently, telling me of you. Of how you kissed her, and nearly slept with her at the Angel's Share. She was unaware of the fact that you had a partner, and had finally found and confided in me about this.

I don't know what made you cheat on me like this, but worse still you've been avoiding me, and you wouldn't even tell me. If I knew... then we could have talked about it, we could have gotten counseling. We could have fixed this--fixed us. But you were gone.

I don't want to hear you say it, say that you don't love me or you don't want to be with me, so I left. I'm not in Mondstadt, I've gone to live with someone I can actually trust. Please don't look for me, I need time. Your lack of communication was enough to tell me you don't care enough to fix this.

Sincerely, Your former beloved.

Tears truckled down onto the paper, and he nearly crushed it in a single fist... But, no, he couldn't, he couldn't destroy the last connection he had to you, no matter how badly he wanted to rip out his eye, so he never had to look at it ever again. He collapsed the floor, the letter, and the framed picture falling to the ground, a broken, loud laughter rung through the house as tears fells down his face, maniacal in nature...

He wanted to be alone, and gone, for a long... long time.

Childe

Childe didn't understand the meaning of 'exclusive' as well. He loved you, dearly, but to him, love was a thing to be given more freely. Maybe it was just a lack of communication, or maybe he completely misunderstood your words, but with an old friend he slept with time and time again...

When Scaramouche saw him sending off his friend with a goodbye kiss, it being a casual commoditiy in his mind, only then did he get utterly chewed out for this.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" Scaramouche snarled at him, "You're not even shameful about this, you cheater." He snapped, as though he was truly angry for you, instead of just a generally very angry person. Childe shrugged.

"I wouldn't mind if they slept with someone else," he said casually, "Doesn't mean they love me any less, you know?"

Scaramouche tried to response, but he was simply flabberghasted. "Most people don't think that way, you airheaded moron."

Childe just laughed, brushing off the shorter harbinger, before walking off without a care.

But... in the end, the words got to him.

Maybe you didn't think that way? You two had spoken of marriage, a very possible reality that he was looking forward to... But, maybe there was a... culture clash, maybe? A clash of upbringings?

He found himself wondering these things at night, when you were snuggled up to him, unaware of the whirlwind of fear in his mind.

Silently, he resolved to simply stop--It would keep you happy, a little secret he didn't mind keeping. Maybe in many, many years, he'd mention it, but... he thought that was okay. That could be the last time he'd ever do something like that...

But, as he came home... You were sitting, waiting for him.

"Please, come sit down, Ajax," that morose tone, it made his heart ache... so he obeyed without question. You looked at him, face puffy and eyes red... "Tell me the truth," you asked, his heart sinking, "Did you cheat on me?"

He froze, but... "Y-yes, but-"

"I don't need an explanation," you admitted, a small, broken smile on your face, "I knew I wasn't loveable enough."

"Wait, no, no, that's not it at all-"

"No," you interrupted, "I don't need an explanation. I'll be out by tonight," you looked down at your lap, his heart shattering into even smaller pieces,

"Babe... please, please, let me explain, I'll never do it again-"

You stood,

"If you'd do it once, you'd do it again. Don't talk to me," you hesitated, "If you want me to be happy, don't look for me ever again."

He was trying to reach for you... but, he couldn't make himself grab you, not when you so delicately shied away...

Eventually, he gave up. No amount of fighting would stop you, and... and he... he couldn't keep seeing your pain as you cried for him to just leave you alone.

Was this love? The pain of another, the terror not of considering spending the rest of your life with them, but the terror of not spending the rest of your life with them?

Before he knew it, he was staring at a mirror, shards of glass in his fist, more than a few holes in the wall and a broken door, the shattered mirror distorting his expression...

Upon walking through the house, he saw that there was... it felt so empty, without your delicate touch and presence making it a place he lovingly called home.

"No," he whispered, hoping... were you here? Did you see... whatever he blacked out and did, the tantrum he did not remember? Did he, oh gods above, oh gods, he didn't hurt you, did he?

...

But he never got an opportunity to find out.

By the time he had sobered up from his tantrum... you were gone. Only a note, left behind, Don't look for me.

Because, you both knew, if he really wanted to find you, he could. He could capture you, trap you... hurt you.

But he didn't want any of that, as much as it hurt to have you away... to make you hate him anymore than you already did was enough to drive a man to near insanity.

Even after you had been gone, he would sit, whenever he was not forced to work, to fulfil his duties to the Tsaritsa... he would wait. He would cook your favourite dishes, read the books you liked, go to the places you enjoyed...

Only after weeks of this, did it hit him that you truly were never coming home. He knew that, but... but, somehow, his heart, his emotions hadn't caught up.

For a second time, he had destroyed your shared, no... his home.

It just wasn't home without you.

Unable to endure the idea of still being here, of a place where he had held you so many times, kissed you, loved you, and suddenly you were all but gone... He tried to do anything to avoid it, to avoid that demon that desperately tried to crawl out of him, threatening to burst from his chest.

Even the other Harbingers had noticed this, how... awful he had been, how he had lost himself. Even Scaramouche, the one most openly said to be the easiest to hate amongst them all, with an uncanny talent to bring even the most pacificistic souls to pure rage, had done well to stay his tongue, never kind, never sweet, but he would give him the isolation he craved, only speaking as much was necessary.

He didn't know what to do with himself, but whenever that happened... he'd just throw himself to the maws of death and, unluckily, crawl his way back out.

Diluc

Everything felt hot and fuzzy and...

Red.

Was red a feeling? His face was red, his body burned, and he could scarcely breathe, he definitely had accidentally drunk some alcohol, but for once, the effects of inebriation hit him. However, while he couldn't understand why people would devote their lives to this sensation, he could appreciate reality being distant, when he knew if he wasn't drunk, he would have spit up the wine and some extra blood, making it an even richer red color.

A warm feeling around his dick, he saw a pretty, if not distorted, face. It didn't take long for him to explode with sensation, his eyes shot wide... and a kiss pressed to his lips.

He almost chased that pretty face, only to see it disappear, he falling to his knees, rasping for air. Moments later, he felt hands on his shoulder's, shaking him. He shot his head up, seeing Kaeya looking at him in fear, and distantly, he heard his name...

"Diluc. Diluc. Diluc! Say something!"

Diluc stared at him, and opened his mouth to speak, but he only ended up jerking his head down, coughing into his elbow, seeing blood on his black coat... Kaeya noticed, too, frozen in shock.

"What happened?" he asked, his eye wide in shock.

"I..." Diluc rasped out, and his eyes widened in shock.

He realized what he had done.

He. He slept with someone who was most definitely not the one he had sworn himself to. Some-some random woman who was likely enchanted by the prospect of a rich man.

"Diluc!" Kaeya shouted, afraid, "What happened?"

Diluc shoved himself up, his hand on Kaeya's shoulder, already rushing to run out and all the way back to the Winery-but not before Kaeya grabbed him, stopping him, strength near equally matched.

"'Luc, I'm not letting you go anywhere until you-"

"I did," Diluc was still gasping for air, "I did something terrible." He admitted, with no small amount of pain.

"What did you do?" Kaeya asked, "Don't run, don't run, you're going to choke on your own blood-"

"No!" Diluc shouted, throwing Kaeya off his arm, running on pure adrenaline, even as his face was beet red, and his vision blurred.

But he needed to confess his sins, immediately, he needed to... now, now, now!

He heard Kaeya shout, but in the end, as he had to stop just to rasp for air again, the burn of alcohol still in his throat, he heard no shouting, nothing but the sound of his thundering heartbeats in his own ears.

Finally, he got to the Winery. You saw him, shocked, seeing his red face and how distressed he was, his hair nothing short of a fluffy mess.

"Diluc," you run over, he leaning on you, just to not collapse from the lack of air, "Diluc, what's wrong?"

"I-I..." He shuttered out, sucking in a breath, "I cheated on you."

You were reeling, "You-What?"

"I-I accidentally drank wine. I was drunk, I can't..." He was still heaving, "I can't breathe... I don't... I don't know what happened, but... She... a woman, she..."

He couldn't finish, but he didn't need to.

"You cheated on me and the first thing you did was come home and brag about it?" You asked, equal parts anguish and anger,

"No," he rasped, his knees buckling as the world tried to disappear on him, "I can't..." his hand went to his throat, "Wait..."

He didn't know what happened, but he only saw flashes after that--Your tears, his bloodied hands, you leaving.

And he was alone, on the ground, barely able to breathe, to think... to do anything.

You left him.

You were gone.

And, somehow, he wasn't mad at all. Having breathed long enough to move again, he stood... and he found the half-empty bottle of wine left on the table, the wine you adored so.

He grabbed the bottle and drank straight from it, feeling his throat and tongue swell, it crashing to the ground as he fell, unable to rasp even the slightest breaths,

I deserve this, he thought, I deserve this. This is all I deserve.

...

...?

For some reason, despite his better wishes, he woke up. He lay in bed, a cool, wet cloth over his forehead... his flesh burned, and his tongue was still swollen, he unable to wiggle it in his mouth. His breathing, still, was labored, but it seemed that he was still breathing, despite everything.

He watched as Adelinde cautiously walked over, looking down at his face, "... Master Diluc, are you alright?"

No, he wasn't, but he could not even sob and cry, for he could not breathe enough to do so.

A cruel twist of fate, but he was not deserving to cry, he was the one who hurt you. You did nothing but love him.

He didn't deserve anything right now.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #kaeya #diluc #childe #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin childe #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #childe x reader #bark writes #// also dw anon i've written way more messed up stuff than this #// :)#// also idk why ppl cheat beyond the thrill of it and i wanted to make it more interesting than that #// chlide was the closest to that idea #// i got some shitty news + people who didnt stop bringing it up so this took way more time than i'd like to admit

1K notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

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

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

189 notes · View notes

unlikelymilkshakedream · 3 years

Text

We love you

A/n: hello! First off I want to say I am very sorry I have been inactive on here, I have been super busy with classes and work and I have had nearly no free time. I also am working on a lot of pieces currently that are taking longer than I would have liked, but I am working to get those finished very quickly. I hope you enjoy this, I just felt weird this morning so I wrote this

This morning turned out fine, or so I thought. I was excited for today because I wanted to go out with my boyfriend and his friends. We had all become very good friends, so much so to the point that we were all together now.

The day I thought would be perfect, turned into the day that nearly broke me. It had been a while since I had a day like this. No matter what I tried to do I felt as though the world was against me getting out of bed.

My boyfriends, of course, had no trouble doing so. They shouldn't, they don't live with my chronic problems, and I don't want them to experience this. I know I should get up, but just the thought alone is enough to bring me to tears, bawling into my pillow and praying they don't hear.

Twice, it had happen this morning, I couldn't hold back the tears nor the incredible feeling that I would never be able to fight this sadness. Like I said, it doesn't happen often, but the days it does, its nearly impossible to deal with.

It must have been getting pretty late in the day, because I knew eventually one of them would seek me out of the darkness from my bedroom. I was submerged in blankets when I heard the door creak open, I didnt dare breathe. I didnt want them to know that I had this illness that constricted my happiness.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, peeling back my comfortable blanket of darkness that I had built.

"Y/n? Are you awake?" It must've been my boyfriend, George. From the sound of his accent and the softness of his voice, I could tell without looking. There was no doubt in my mind that he could see the tears lines on my face and could tell I had been crying. I felt like I just didn't have the strength to face him right now.

"Just leave me alone," I said in such a broken and wobbly voice, im surprised it even came out to where he could understand it. I don't know if it was the dark room, the marks on my face or simply my vibe, but he got up and he left. When he did, the tears started again, stronger than ever.

Not because he left, but because I felt as though I failed him. He wanted to help me, maybe, but either way, I couldn't be strong enough to let him, I couldn't look at him or enjoy the day with him. And so the cycle continued, the tears, the feelings of hopelessness and the agony.

"Dream, I just don't know whats wrong with her, she's awake, but she wouldn't move or talk, besides saying to leave her alone." As george told the two other boys of his discoveries, everyone in the room seemed to still. Neither knew what to do because they didn't know what was happening.

"Is she okay, though?" Dream asked thoughtfully. George thought for a moment.

"Well, she, she had, it looked like she had been crying. There were lines down her face from her eyes and it looked like tears.

At this, nick spoke up. "Well, should we go get her out of bed?" Dream thought for a moment.

"I mean, George just tried that. It didn't seem to work to well." Sapnap sighed.

"Well we should at least try and get her up, she's been crying and is still in bed in the afternoon. We need to do something."

They all thought for a long while. Then, with one glance at each other, they decided to go upstairs and try to help. They were quiet while walking up the stairs, trying not to disturb the silence of the house.

The knock placed upon the door shook me, I didnt want anyone to see my sadness, I didnt want anyone to know I wasnt okay. I didnt want to see my boyfriends while I was like this. Hearing the door creek open, I started to cry, silently begging them not to see me like this.

Like before, a hand was place upon my shoulder, which caused me to flinch involuntarily. Everything seemed to still when this happened and it just caused more tears to fall, to which sapnap pulled back the covers and sat me up.

"Y/n, whats wrong? Please talk to us." There were still tears streaming down my face. I looked at the three men sitting before me, to which I saw all of them with red, tear brimmed eyes. This caused me to cry harder.

"I'm sorry." I sobbed out.

"For what, baby? You didn't do anything." Dream sat next to nick and held me with him.

"I didnt want to make you cry. I just don't feel well. It doesn't happen often but it did today." At this i shoved my head into sapnaps shoulder.

"Y/n, we just want to make sure you're okay." I cried into Nick's shoulder as clay rubbed circles on my back.

"I'm so sorry. I didnt want you guys to see me like this." George kneeled in front of me.

"Y/n, its okay, we're here for you and nothing can change that, its okay to cry and have days like this. We still love you all the same and more." I stared at george , not believing that anyone would actually stick around through something like this.

"How can you guys still love me?" I sobbed out.

"Because we care about you, nothing can change that. We all have bad days sometimes, its a part of life. You crying isn't going to make us stop loving you." Dream said.

George then opened the blinds and let light into the room.

"How about we all take a shower? Hmm, how does that sound?" I nodded while more tears ran down my cheeks.

"Oh, baby, its okay, come here." Dream picked me up and out me on his lap. Meanwhile sapnap and george went to start a shower.

"Hey, its okay, listen to me, I promise you there is absolutely nothing that could make any of us stop loving you. Its okay to cry."

I felt better with my boys around me, helping me out of my state of sadness, there's no one else I would rather have by my side.

#dream team #sapnap #dream smp #dream #georgenotfound #dreamnotfound #sapnap mcyt #dream mcyt #poly dream team #poly dream team x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound mcyt

223 notes · View notes

cottoncandyjester · 3 years

Note

What if another person tried to kidnap the yanderes darlings👀

All their reactions will of course be to get you back so I only did the ones that would have the strongest reactions

Also im gonna start pairing hikaru with a y/n who doesn't give a shit about his degrading..cause it's wayyy funnier

Warning this contains: death, talk of torture, cannibalism, yandere behavior, kidnapping

Theodore

Definitely wasn't expecting it

Theo is normally prepared but he doesnt have any idea what to do

He of course has to find out who would touch you and how to get rid of them

He is usually so calm and collected but when he gets you back he is merciless with your captor, cold and unnerving downright sadistic

He wants them to suffer for worrying him and stealing his little wife/husband

"so this is where you've been hiding" Theo spoke softly to you with a smile as he gazed at your restraints before setting you free and kissing your wrists which were lightly bruised from the restraints but he heard footsteps his eyes growing cold.

"angel, close your eyes and cover your ears okay? Don't stop til I say..please" he spoke softly before turning his back to you before walking away. Soon screams of pure agony filled the air a constant screaming before utter silence, Theo soon returning to you covered in blood now wiping his glasses clean with a gentle humming

"how about we go home and take a shower, okay angel?"

Axis

He gets his brother to help

He is unstable without you

Like he can't think straight and all his senses seem to not work properly he is utterly hopeless

The person who took you will feel his wrath

Axis always shows his his cute side but when he gets you he gets dark as hell

Aka he lets salem devour them

"sweetie! Oh thank goodness I found you!" Axis chirped out pressing a kiss against your lips before he set you free from the cage you were in. "Let's go home okay? I missed you so much!" He huffs out.

"you can't take them" axis shuddered at the voice of your captor and something feral come out of him, they took you..took you away and did god knows what. With a whistle it seems he got salem's attention who was sitting outside the room. Axis turned to you smiling sweetly while salem pounced the sounds of screaming and bones cracking filling the room as axis helped you out the cage and covered your eyes from behind guiding you out the room.

"don't mind the noise okay? I know it's loud." He whispers in your ear before pressing a kiss on the back of your neck.

Yuki

It's cute that people think they can take you from him

Is very prepared

It takes three hours before he's coming to you to get you

He doesn't seem angry but he is

He's downright cold just cruel

You sobbed softly as your captor tortured you using a knife to cover your body with small but deep cuts, you soon heard a faint sound and looked to the window seeing Yuki open it softly when the two of you locked eyes he pressed a finger to his lips signalling silence.

You tried your best to avoid staring at him as he hopped down from the window into the room the soft sounds of his footsteps alerting your captor who turned around.

"whose the-"

Yuki shoved a gun barrel into the stranger's mouth his eyes cold and dull as he locked eyes with them. "Die." Yuki whispers out shooting the pistol watching them drop before he aimed at them firing again..and again..and again. He didn't stop until the gun clicked so he checked the ammo and was about to even put a new magazine in bloodlust swirling in his eyes.

"y-yuki!" You snapped out your body shaking at the sight of the clearly dead body filled with holes. Yuki glanced down and tilted his head to the side giving a sleepy little oh before putting the gun away and untying you noticing your cuts and shoved his sweater onto you before scooping you into his arms.

"I'm teaching you how to fight."

His mumbled out as he took you home.

Rin

Sweetheart he is the leader of a whole gang of clown thugs

It takes him like thirty minutes to find you and the entire time he's smiling

Like "oh well what are you gonna do I guess haha time to get my y/n lol"

In actuality he's PISSED

When he gets you he doesn't show it though

He actually encourages the captor for a little bit before utterly slaughtering them.

"one step closer and I'll kill them!" You whimpered as you were held at knife point staring at rin with fear in your eyes but rin... simply pulls up a chair and plopped a seat his smile never leaving his face. "Go ahead" he stated out now gazing at his purple painted nails.

"boss, are you sure?" One of his goons asked out and rin chuckled before getting up. "They won't do it, that's the funny part. They are just a dumb coward too scared to do it" he explained skipping over to you watching how your captor shook in nervousness pressing the blade closer to your neck blood starting to spill.

"do it motherfucker, I'm fucking waiting" rin whispers out leaning in close his eyes widening almost looking like they were glowing. "Y-you're a monster" your captor cried now shoving you but rin wasn't done tormenting them. "I'll give you two choices, slit your throat...or suffer as my gang force you down and touch you in ways that makes you wish you were dead, over and over til you're a broken bitch, I mean either way they are gonna violate you but wouldn't it be better for them to do it when you're dead and you can't feel their groping hands?" Rin cheers out

Your captor backed up til their back hit a wall as rin hummed sweetly walking closer and closer to them before grabbing them by the shirt yanking them close.

" stop being a fucking pussy and choose or I'll be the one doing the violatinf and trust me you don't want that" rin whispers darkly in their ear before shoving them down and turning to you and his group.

"have fun boys try not to make too much a mess, I'm going home!" he cheers out now walking towards you and holding his hand out towards you with a grin helping you up. "Aweee are you crying?! You're so cute! Cutie cutie cutie!" He cooed now squishing your cheeks together completely ignoring the violence happening behind him.

"let's go home and eat dino nuggets!" He said happily before glancing behind him with an annoyed hiss "fucking coward slit his throat..." He mumbled under his breath but shook it off now taking your hand and skipping with a happy him guiding you away.

Hikaru

He doesn't realize you're gone at first

It takes him a day

He thought you were being a brat and hiding again so he decided to be pretty and ignore you..but he missed you and realizes you're kidnapped

He is pissed at you for being a dumbass and getting taken but also pissed at himself for letting it happen

When he goes there he doesn't even save you at first first he has to bitch about it

You two legit argue while you're tied up

Your captor is like "should i go orrrr..."

Of course they meet death but he has to complain first

Hikaru huffs as he stomped into the warehouse without a single care in the world his eyes glaring at you as you looked at him with relief finally he came for you

"hika-"

"bitch do you know how much of a waste of time this is? Like damn y/n you love wasting my time and money so much you get snatched up" you felt all your relief get replaced with annoyance as your eyes drooped into a glare.

"oh yes hikaru cause I got kidnapped on purpose. If I wanted to waste your money I would steal your credit card" you hissed back and hikaru scoffs lightly.

"well I'm here, what's all the fuss about?"

"I'm fucking kidnapped hikaru! How about you stop being a dick and help they could kill or even violate me!"

Hikaru gave you a sassy expression clearly already fed up with you at this point. "Sweetie, they won't violate you. Gotta be worth violating for that" he sneers out

Your captor gazed at the two of you nervously as to two shouted at each other for the next ten minutes. "Excuse m-" hikaru took out a gun and shot them in the knee as quickly as they spoke before getting back to his argument.

"...all I'm saying is a thank you daddy would be nice! Like I came all the way over here I had a hair appointment but nooo I had to save you. You're so damn selfish"

"oh my fucking god...thank you daddy for coming to save me even though you're my damn BOYFRIEND! I'll get someone else to save me next time" you snapped out and hikaru pouted "your sass is not needed" he grumbled out before untying you.

Your captor who was in very much pain tried to speak and hikaru gave them a disgusted expression, was this plebian speaking to him? "Shut the hell up, it's your fault too you could have taken anyone but no you had to take my pet" he snapped shooting them in the head before grabbing you by your arm dragging you out while grumbling under his breath.

"I better get my dick sucked" he hissed out now shooting you an annoyed look.

Rocket

He is so worried

Like so worried

He's a himbo so it takes him a bit to realize that you aren't at the store getting him more hamburger steaks

One he figured it out he quickly went to find you

He was such a mess

Once he found you he was crying and hugging you so tight

Snapped your captor's neck

Uses his strength in scary ways.

"y/n! Oh darling! Are you okay sunshine? Are ya hurt?" Rocket squeaked out as he started to untie you his breathing shaky and tears in his eyes. Rocket heard footsteps come closer, in a panic he was shoving you in a closet to hide before meeting the eyes of your captor.

Wasn't long til he was breaking every bone in their body,starting with their arm snapping it like a twig before moving to their leg then to neck making it more and more painful. "I usually hate violence, but my sweetheart..is my everything" he whispers out before turning to you with a gentle smile

"darling, let's go home"

#yandere imagines #yandere #yandere ocs

52 notes · View notes

thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

unless you take your army back ch. 2

First chapter - Read on AO3!

This chapter is a lot longer than I thought it was that’s my bad

cw: blood, intense depictions of injuries, food, flashbacks

When Crutchie woke, it was with a heaviness in the pit of his stomach. He knew that while he was not waking up from a nightmare, he would be waking into one. Another day either working hard for nothing or locked in a tiny closet, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Something was different, though. For one thing, he wasn’t quite sure where he was. He was on something soft, which couldn’t count as any surface in the Refuge. Not only that, but he didn’t feel squished or anything. There wasn’t anyone else near him, which crossed off the idea that he’d been dragged back to the room full of boys, but there was plenty of room to stretch out, so definitely not in a closet.

Maybe he had died.

As he became more aware of his body, though, he still felt pained--so probably not dead. He used to visit a church when he’d been on the streets by himself, less for concern of his mortal soul and more for the communion wafers and occasional Sunday afternoon luncheons, but he’d listened to what had been taught there. Apparently, if he died and went to Heaven he’d be healed. He had to be going to Heaven, right? He’d been baptized as a baby, after all. He didn’t really believe in it these days, but that didn’t mean he was a bad person.

He would’ve continued wondering about the fate of his soul had he not tried to flex his fingers and found both hands immobile--not because of the pain in them, but because his fingers were all wrapped up. So was his left arm, actually, which was distantly throbbing.

Reluctantly, Crutchie forced his eyes to open, grimacing at how crusty they felt. Light flooded his vision and he closed them almost immediately, then opened them a pinch.

He had no clue where he was. All he could see was a wooden ceiling. How was that supposed to help him?

It smelled sort of familiar, but it was also silent, aside from a bird chirping outside the window--which was right beside him. Actually, as he took a bigger breath (not too big, his chest was all tight and achy), he recognized something small--and then so many things, all in the scent of the air.

This was the lodging house, and with it, the smell of the soap they all used, Race’s cigar, newspapers, coffee, sweat, and that weird cologne that Jack and Romeo sometimes spent a few pennies on. He was home.

Crutchie let out a sigh. He was exhausted. Maybe he could just go back to sleep.

“Crutchie?”

So much for that idea. Crutchie shifted his vision a little, wincing as his neck cramped. Jack was sat there beside him, charcoal pencil frozen where it was poised on a paper. He looked okay, aside from a black eye. He also looked scared, for some reason, almost guilty. What had happened? Why was Crutchie at the lodging house? Why did Jack look like he was hiding something?

Crutchie decided to not bring it up at the moment, but couldn’t stop wondering. He didn’t remember all of what had happened since he’d been awoken the other morning by the Refuge kids with a cup of water, but he had vague recollections of beatings and closets and being trapped under the floor. He could also remember seeing Katherine, but that part might have been a hallucination. More importantly, he couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here and what had made Snyder let him go. If Jack had traded someone--

“How’re ya feeling?” Jack asked, and Crutchie could hear his words dripping with fatigue. He wondered how long he’d been out, that Jack had been sitting at his side for.

Crutchie opened his mouth, lips cracking, and paused at the pain that came when he tried to make his voice work. Something was up--Synder, chokin’ you, his brain reminded him. Also no water, dummy. They does that to a voice.

As if Jack knew what he was thinking, he shot up, the paper falling and pencil rolling away. “Gotcha some water waitin’,” he said, taking a few steps out of Crutchie’s line of sight and returning with a tin cup and a bowl. “Also had one o’ the fellas grab some soup from the sistas, so you can has somethin’ ta eat.” He frowned down at the bowl. “It ain’t too warm now, but it should still taste all right.”

Crutchie had the feeling that he ought to smile in thanks, but just couldn’t. He couldn’t even fathom lifting his cheeks that much--they felt oddly large and heavy. His head was pretty cloudy, anyway. It probably wouldn’t even be able to send the instructions to his mouth. Jack held the cup to his lips and he drank--the water was a bit warm, but far better than nothing--begrudgingly, wishing he could hold it himself.

As soon as all the water was gone, Jack was digging a spoon out of his pocket, preparing to feed him. If he had the energy, Crutchie would’ve sputtered in indignation. He could feed himself, thank you very much! He hadn’t let no one feed him except his mother, and that was too long ago for him to remember (he casually shoved down the image of Harley feeding him bites of sandwich, back at the Refuge).

“I can feeds myself,” he croaked out, feeling just that small movement of his mouth stretch his cheeks farther than normal. They must’ve been pretty swollen. Some of the anxious creases around Jack's eyes smoothed out.

“I know ya can,” Jack said, relief evident in his voice. “Lemme help ya sit up, then.”

Crutchie wanted to sit up himself, but he conceded this to Jack. He had to pick his battles, especially when he was so tired.

He gasped when Jack buried his arm under his back, the lashes and memories of them barraging him with agony. Jack pulled away as if he was the one who had been whipped, watching him warily. Crutchie scrunched his eyes closed, trying to stop a tear that was threatening to slip out. He wasn’t weak. He had to show Jack that he could do this.

“Want--want me to, uh, pull ya up by the arm?” Jack offered, and Crutchie nodded jerkily. That sounded bearable; his right arm wasn’t hurt all that bad.

As soon as Jack touched him, though, fear stole Crutchie’s breath. Images of thugs gripping his wrist and dragging him along on dirty floors filled his mind, and he cowered, pulling his body as close together as he could.

Someone was speaking, and Crutchie was about to ignore it until he realized the price he might pay for not following orders. His eyes shot open, his heart racing with a frenzy that seemed to pound on his broken ribs.

“--okay? Kath said your ribs got beat pretty bad, an’ it might be hard for you ta sit up. You good, Crutch?”

That was Jack. That was Jack speaking, and he wasn’t in the Refuge, he was at the lodging house. He just sat up to eat some soup. He was safe.

No matter how many times Crutchie repeated those words to himself, he couldn’t let go of the dark halls of the Refuge, the stink of the guards’ cigars, the pain that was coming at any moment.

“I’s fine,” he gritted out, forcing himself to meet Jack’s eyes. “Jus’, yeah, little bit o’ pain.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so just let it hang in the air between them.

Eventually, Jack helped him form his right hand around the bowl as steady as possible, then stabilized it as he brought it to his lips and drank. It bumped against his cheeks uncomfortably. It was little more than broth, and lukewarm, but Crutchie was grateful for it all the same. The taste of it alone nearly made him sob--the flavor was just so much--but he held it in.

Jack made him drink over half of the bowl before letting him lay back down, which was a much quicker operation than sitting up had been. When he was settled back in the bed, full to bursting and a little more clear on what was happening, he finally asked one of the questions that had been on his mind since he woke.

“Jack? What happened?”

Jack shifted from foot to foot. “With what?”

Crutchie sighed, pulling down his shirt a little to see what was under it. A lot of bandages and some bruises was the answer. “The strike, I s’pose.”

“Right, the strike.” Jack sat down, crossing one leg over the other. “Uh, well, we won.”

Crutchie’s heart leaped. They won? Against Pulitzer, and Wiesel, and the Delanceys, and Snyder, and all the police officers? Once again, he felt that he should smile, but just couldn’t find the energy. “Wow,” he said instead, swallowing around the pain in his throat. They had won. “How’d you get me out?”

There wasn’t an answer from Jack for a long time, and after a moment Crutchie looked over at him. He was looking down, cap in his hands, twisting it around anxiously.

“Governor Roosevelt,” he said, not looking up. His voice was unreadable. “Kath got him ta shut down the Refuge, for good. Ain’t nobody goin’ back there.”

Wow. They really won. How had that even happened? Crutchie couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that there would be no more Snyder chasing kids on the street. There had to be someone, right? Someone else who wanted to hurt kids for the fun of it?

“Y-you awake, buddy?”

Crutchie blinked, realizing his eyes had closed. “Yeah,” he whispered. Jack was watching him again, his eyes red. “Jus’ . . . jus’ tired.” And he was. He felt like if he didn’t sleep soon, he might just fade away. Even now, he wouldn’t be surprised if he slept for a week straight. He was so tired.

“Sleep, nitwit. Ya gots the time.”

Crutchie gladly accepted the invitation.

“Shh! Ya don’t want ‘im wakin’ up, do ya?”

“A little bit, yeah!”

“We wants to see ‘im!”

Crutchie groaned. The voices quieted down for a second with a few hushed gasps and shushes, then started up again when he made no effort to move. This bed was almost unbearably comfortable.

“C’mon, Jack! He’s practic’ly a’ready awake.”

“Yeah, but he ain’t. He’s restin’, he don’t need you lot tirin’ him out.”

“It’s our room too.”

“Yeah! You has to let us in, who put you in charge?”

“. . . You’s all did, Romeo.”

Crutchie snorted through his nose, then opened his eyes. He still felt bone tired, but a little like he could function. He turned his head, slowly this time, to see Jack a few feet away, holding back a good dozen newsies. Once they saw him moving, their faces lit up excitedly. Elmer pointed, hopping a little bit, and Jack looked over his shoulder to meet Crutchie’s eyes.

Immediately, he dropped his defenses and rushed to Crutchie’s side. He produced a tin cup from nowhere--and a different one from earlier?--and pushed it to his lips. “Hey, Crutch. How ya feelin’?”

Crutchie sipped and rolled his eyes, coughing a little when that sent a headache pounding. “Bit better,” he managed through his swollen jaw, pulling away from the drink. “Why’s my arm not workin’?”

Jack’s face flashed guiltily. “‘S broken,” he said, brushing hair out of Crutchie’s face. “Katherine said you’ll be wrapped up in it about three weeks, maybe more.”

Crutchie frowned. How was he supposed to sell? His right arm needed to hold his crutch, so what was supposed to be waving around the papers? His thoughts were interrupted by Jack making him drink some more water.

“I gots more food here, for ya,” Jack began. “Don’t want ya goin’ hungry. And then--”

“Jack?”

Jack went silent instantly, looking so intensely at Crutchie that he started to wonder if Jack thought he was dying. Maybe he was dying. He certainly felt like it. He shook himself. “Can I see the fellas?”

Jack turned around. The newsies, still standing in the middle of the room, waved.

“Yeah, why not,” he said, pulling his hat off and running a hand through his hair. “One at a time, though,” he added when they all began to rush forward. “You’s gonna give him a heart attack, all o’ you’s at once.”, during which Crutchie propped himself up into almost a sitting position. His bad leg was almost completely deadweight, and it hurt like he’d stuck it in a bonfire. Still, he dragged it up a little bit, trying to make room for another boy to sit on the bed. Breathing sitting up made his chest burn and back smart, but he could deal with it for right now. He just wanted to see his friends.

Specs sat down first, smiling in that gentle way of his. “Hey, Crutch,” he said. “Lookin’ a bit worse than last time I seen ya, huh? Feelin’ any better?”

“Jus’ a bit, and okay, I guess,” Crutchie admitted, once again finding smiling to be too much effort. “Jack says we won, I think. How’s it feel?”

Specs sighed happily. “Feels free. Can’t wait to get ya outta bed and into the streets, see how ‘cited the boys are ‘bout sellin’.”

“Me neither,” Crutchie said. Specs nodded, then patted him awkwardly on the knee before standing up. He was almost immediately replaced by Race and Albert, Race falling onto the bed with flourish, Albert standing beside it with his thumbs in his suspenders.

“Feelin’ any better, Crutchie?” Albert asked. Crutchie waved his arm.

“Loads,” he said, trying to not make any sounds as Race jostled him. “Bet I’ll be up sellin’ papes with you’s in no time.”

Albert guffawed; Race smiled a little piteously. “Glad to see that Crutchie spirit,” Race said, poking him in the side. Crutchie couldn’t help a gasp, bit his tongue too late to hide it. The smile completely dropped from both of their faces.

“Hey, uh,” Albert said, quieter than usual, “Race an’ I--we’s been there. Well, not there ‘xactly, but . . . that place. So we knows it’s hard to get better, an’ it takes time.”

They really didn’t know, Crutchie thought to himself as they stepped away. They didn’t have a public connection to Jack Kelly when they were in there, nor did they have a crippled leg. He was sure it was rough for them, but their experiences were not the same, and he didn’t much appreciate them comparing the two.

“Hey Crutchie! Feelin’ any better?” Elmer.

“I’d feel better if people would stop askin’ me that,” Crutchie grumbled. Elmer laughed, his eyes lighting up.

“Les an’ Davey an’ me made you this,” he said, holding something out. He dropped it in Crutchie’s lap, who stiffly picked it up with bandaged fingers and examined it closely. It was a loop of yarns, braided together in blue, green, and brown to make a bracelet.

“You don’t gotta put it on your wrist now,” Elmer said, obviously proud. “But we all made it! You can sees where I started braidin’ after Les, ‘cuz it gets better there.”

Crutchie felt tears pricking at his eyes as he looked, and yep--there was a section where it went from messy to a little less so. “Thanks, Elmer. I’m . . . I’m touched.” he glanced up into his face, seeing it split into a huge smile. “You wanna put it on my wrist? My fingers ain’t workin’ so well.”

Elmer did so with care, not even hopping back when Crutchie flinched at the touch. Then he gave a little bow and a wave, and darted off.

Next up were Romeo and Henry, who awkwardly told him about their day and asked about his. Seeing as how Crutchie had been unconscious for the majority of the day, there wasn’t much conversation to be made on his end. It was nice to hear about what they’d been doing, though. Crutchie could usually see Romeo from his selling spot, and they sometimes sold together.

“Some o’ the regulars is askin’ after you,” Romeo told him with a pat on the shoulder. Crutchie didn’t have the energy to hide his wince. “Told ‘em they oughtta be proud o’ you, you took on the Delanceys and won!”

Crutchie choked. “I ain’t done anything of the sort!” he sputtered. Romeo chuckled.

“I’m a newsie, what can I say?” he shrugged and patted his shoulder again, then wandered off with a bit of a dazed look on his face. Henry gave him a quick goodbye and followed.

Tommy Boy was just saying hello when Jack began to usher them out, saying something about how they needed to go run off their energy somewhere not here. For once, Crutchie was grateful for Jack’s motherhenning. He felt like he was going to shake right out of his body. The newsies were a tactile bunch, and normally Crutchie had no problem with that, but today it made his skin crawl and his brain go bleary. He’d also never been troubled by crowds of any size, but the room was beginning to feel unbearably full and loud.

When he looked up again, everyone but Jack was gone--and Katherine? When had she come in?

Not another person, Crutchie thought, then immediately felt bad. Jack had mentioned her a few times, and he inferred that she was sort of the person who got him out. He could have the civility to talk to her.

“Crutchie, how are you feeling?” Katherine asked, hurrying over. Crutchie bit his tongue to keep from responding rudely.

Katherine looked him over, the smile in her words slowly fading as she took him in. Finally, she met his eyes, and nodded. “Jack was right, you’re looking a lot better than yesterday.”

“Thanks, I think?” Crutchie said, something catching in his sore throat and causing him to cough violently. His chest seized up, his body wracked with agony at the pain that came from the shuddering coughs. When he recovered enough to open his eyes, Jack was holding the cup of water right under his nose.

“Don’ be gettin’ sick on me, Crutchie,” Jack said, sounding more worried than teasing. Crutchie swallowed down the last of the water and coughed one more time.

“I’s gettin’ sick just ta spite you, now,” Crutchie said weakly. Katherine and Jack both laughed, a little wildly, a little wrong. That bothered him, in ways that he couldn’t quite put together. Why didn’t they sound normal?

Something in the smell of the room was starting to make him feel sick. Had he eaten anything since the scraps that one morning? He had, hadn’t he? Jack had given him something earlier. Well, at least he knew there was something in his stomach to be tossed up if it came to that. That had to be easier on his throat than dry heaves.

“Crutchie, you heard that the Refuge has been shut down for good, haven’t you?” asked Katherine, trying to find somewhere to pat him kindly. She settled on the edge of the mattress.

Wait, what?

The Refuge? Shut down--for good? That wasn’t possible, was it? Snyder had a perfect reputation with the city. They’d never shut down a place that worked so well because a few teenage boys told them to.

“It what?” he said out loud, looking between Jack and Katherine, hoping to see some sign of humor. They had to be pulling his leg. Katherine only nodded, though, and Jack gave him a concerned glance.

“I told ya that already,” Jack said. “Remember? This mornin’?”

Crutchie thought back. Maybe? He remembered pieces of their conversation, but it was pretty blurry. He also remembered seeing a lizard crawl up the windowpane. He’d assumed it was a dream, but maybe it had actually happened. That was pretty cool.

“Anyway, I showed Governor Roosevelt some of Jack’s drawings,” Katherine pushed on. “He investigated it immediately, and went personally to shut it down and arrest that awful man!”

“The governor,” Crutchie repeated, dumbfounded. Jack had ridden in the back of his carriage once. Had he met the governor and not even been conscious?

Now that he thought about it, though, he had vague flashes . . . a man with a mustache saying something to someone out of sight . . . the same man holding water for him to drink . . . had he met the governor and let the man baby him?

“The doctor said he doesn’t know what your recovery will look like, but he thinks you’ll make a full one if nothing gets infected,” Katherine told him, and Crutchie was torn from his mortification to incredulation.

“A doctor?” He couldn’t afford a doctor! He didn’t even have enough money saved to miss more than a few days of work, how would he--

“Don’t worry,” Katherine said, waving him off with a little laugh, “Governor Roosevelt handled the cost. You were concerned about it when it happened, too.”

Crutchie made himself relax a little bit. He couldn’t turn down a free handout in his condition, especially not from the governor. The governor.

“And, speaking of. . . .” Katherine trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Jack took her hand and gave her a strained smile. Crutchie looked at the two of them. Were they together?! Why had no one told him?

“I sort of need to change your bandages,” Katherine said apologetically. Crutchie blanched, and she hurried to add, “It’ll be quick! Just clean wrappings--” she waved a bag-- “and some soap and water, then you can rest.”

Yeah, sure, but there was a huge problem. Katherine was a girl. It wasn’t that she was weak for being a girl or anything, but Crutchie really didn’t want to subject a lady to the mess that was his body right now. Or anyone, for that matter. In fact, if they could both just leave the room and give him the bandages and stinging stuff, he’d get it done himself.

When he tried to tell Katherine just that, she snorted. “Crutchie, no offense, but I don’t think you could beat a toddler with pneumonia in a fight right now. There’s no way you could do this yourself, or any way you could stop me or one of the others doing it for you.”

Crutchie’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t stop them. She was right. They could do anything they wanted to him, and he was powerless to do anything. They wouldn’t even need to hold him down.

Crutchie only nodded when she asked him if she could change his bandages, his throat completely dry. Jack watched him for a moment, and Crutchie tried to not look back. He didn’t want Jack to see how petrified he was. After a moment, Jack made up some nonsense excuse about checking on the other boys and left.

Left to get them, probably. Or maybe something to hit him with. Or both. After all, he was a pretty easy target right about now, who wouldn’t want a go? He could barely move, let alone fight back. Crutchie’s stomach turned as an image of Race taking bets on how long he’d be conscious forced itself into his head.

“Can you sit up all the way, Crutchie?” Katherine asked, and he cringed. They were going to make him sit up? Were they going to make him move from this bed, too? It was Jack’s, he’d realized earlier. Jack probably wanted it back.

He pushed himself up, slowly, agonizingly. His head pounded and his back throbbed and his stomach wouldn’t stop sloshing around the water in it, but he sat up anyway, slowly adjusting so that his legs hung off the bed. By the time he was fully sitting up (hunching over like he wanted to made it harder to breathe) Crutchie had broken a light sweat, his hair sticking a little to the back of his neck. Katherine wouldn’t hurt him, right? She was a girl, and she was upper-class. They made other people do that for them.

“I’m going to start with this cut on your cheek, okay? It looks like it’s fine, I just want to make sure it’s clean.”

Crutchie braced himself, closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep for a little bit longer. Couldn’t it go back to Jack softly giving him water and drawing while he dozed? That was nice. That was safe. Couldn’t they do that for just a little bit longer before they got to all the bad stuff?

Katherine’s touch on his face made him flinch back, but that was all it was. A touch. A piece of wet cloth, rubbed on his cheek. It wasn’t too bad, so far. It was almost a little nice.

“Your forehead’s pretty warm,” he heard her say, distantly. He didn’t respond. It was taking all his effort to stay still and upright.

Crutchie tried to retreat to the back of his mind as he felt Katherine undoing the buttons on his shirt, but he couldn’t get out of here. He was straining his ears to hear something, anything--the boys bounding upstairs, or cheering, or something like that that would give him time to prepare for what was to come.

He was broken out of it, though, when his already aching chest burst into flames. He cried out, opened his eyes--Katherine was holding a red-stained cloth, looking apologetic.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, “but one of your cuts is infected. It’s going to hurt a bit. Do you think you can focus on me?”

Crutchie would’ve laughed if he wasn’t busy taking as shallow breaths as possible. He could barely focus on anything. He looked down to see the patchwork of bruises and scrapes that was his chest, and saw that yes, the largest one looked irritated and weepy. That one had been giving him trouble from the first day.

Something touched his hand and he started, then stared down at it. Katherine was holding his hand. Why?

“We can wait until you’re ready,” she said, and Crutchie wasn’t sure that he would ever be ready, but nodded as a go-ahead.

He watched now as Katherine gently and carefully cleaned each wound, calming more with each reassuring squeeze of her hand when the liquid stung. Something about her hand in his was comforting, almost grounding. It was as if his perception had been blurred with panic, and her hand cleared the mist enough that he could ground himself against the contact and the quiet openness of the room. He was alive.

Instead of making him move, Katherine climbed over the bed in a very unladylike manner and dressed the marks on his back. This was worse. With no one to hold onto and no way to see what was happening, Crutchie dug the sore fingers of his right hand into his left upper arm. It gave him a sensation to focus on that wasn’t the painful touches on his back, something that he could control. That helped, a little bit. What didn’t help was the fact that Crutchie couldn’t stop staring at the door, waiting for it to burst open at any minute.

Katherine wrapped his torso and helped him get his shirt back on before moving down to his legs, which made Crutchie even more uncomfortable. He tried to shift away, even told her he could do this part, despite knowing full well that he was about two minutes from passing out. She was a lady, it was improper.

Katherine was sympathetic. “I can go get Jack,” she offered. “Or one of the other boys, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

No. No no no no no no no. Couldn’t they do this for a little while longer first? Just Katherine holding his hand and cleaning his chest. She seemed to see his panic, because she immediately softened.

“How about this,” she said. “I’ll only do from the knees down, and then I’ll turn around while you clean the rest, okay?” Crutchie nodded. That sounded okay. Embarrassing, of course, but so much better than the alternative.

Katherine pulled one of the blankets from where it was tucked in and draped it over his legs. With her steadying him, Crutchie managed to get his pants down to his ankles, then let her take over, his face burning. She was a girl, after all. It felt so wrong, to let her clean his legs.

She made quick work of it though, and handed Crutchie the brown bottle of what seemed to be soapy water and the cloth before turning around. He watched her for a moment, making sure she wasn’t going to peek, then quickly yet haltingly rubbed the cloth along his thighs. There luckily was nothing more than bruises and a single cut there, and he was done in a few minutes. By that point, he could barely hold his head up. Instead of pulling his pants back on, he just fell back against the bed, groaning.

Katherine tucked him back in, resting a hand on his forehead again. “Do you think you have a fever?”

That would make a bit of sense, wouldn’t it? It was the middle of summer, it had to be sweltering out, and here he was under three blankets with the window closed. He was sure he had other symptoms too, but he didn’t really remember, so he just shrugged and closed his eyes.

Katherine sighed, rubbing his fingers. “Crutchie, I need you to stay awake for a few minutes. Jack’s bringing you something to eat.”

Crutchie forced his eyes back open. He didn’t want to be awake. He’d been tired this whole time and now his body felt like it was going to fall apart. As if summoned, though, the door at the other end of the room creaked open, and in came Jack, holding a bowl in one hand and some bread in the other.

“I sent Sniper down ta Jacobi’s,” he said by way of introduction. Crutchie tried to move his arms, but they felt weighed down. He didn’t really want to eat, he wanted to sleep. He really wanted to sleep, actually, so badly that he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears. Why weren’t they letting him sleep?

There was bread in front of him and Crutchie stared at it uncomprehendingly. What was he supposed to do with that? He couldn’t take it, his arms weren’t moving.

He blinked and it had been replaced by a bowl of something, which gradually came closer as he watched. Someone wormed a hand underneath his neck to prop his head up, making him shiver and twitch. He didn’t like that at all, but there was nothing he could do. Maybe now they were going to beat him. At least he’d probably be too out of it to notice.

The bowl pressed against his lips and Crutchie opened his mouth, choking as some of its liquid slipped down his throat. That was far more warm than he’d been expecting, not quite searing his tongue, but coming close to it. It drew back again, then more spilled into his mouth. This time, Crutchie drank, paying no mind to the flavor or temperature. He just hoped they would let him sleep after this.

Sure enough, with a few last drops of broth, the bowl was empty and the hand under his neck pulled away, leaving Crutchie to fall back against the pillow. Before his eyes were even closed, he was pulled into darkness.

15 notes · View notes

peakascum · 4 years

Text

Lean On Me

this is terrible im so sorry

A slight breeze trickled its way in caressing Y/N’s cheeks. A silent whisper, an invisible touch so soft that she could've imagined it. The grass seemed duller than ever before, yet it was the only place she could find comfort. The chirp of the Blackbird swooped her in a limbo and made her hands clutch the greenery before her. The grass that usually soothed her and held traces of a once happy day seemed to cut her now, leaving behind traces of agony and invisible cuts that penetrated their way into her heart. It happened, what she had been avoiding and fought way too hard for, had happened.

Tears escaped her eyes as her lips parted, yet no sound came out of them. They stuck to her throat creating a heaving sound that only heartbroken mothers would make. She had pleaded with her husband’s family to keep her children safe, to protect them fiercely when the time came. They failed, as did everything else in her life.

She lay down on her side to hear the earth mumble its condolences and whisper reassurances to her baby boy, letting him know how loved and cared for he truly was. How long she had waited for his arrival, how happy the family was to see him grow up, and how much they cherished his blue-colored eyes that looked just like his father’s. His bloody father.

“Y/N!” John screamed making his way up the hill. More tears escaped her eyes in anger and frustration. “Y/N, please darling. Let’s- let’s just go home.” He pleaded, blue eyes staring right back to her almost lifeless ones. He pleaded just as he did every afternoon hoping this would finally be the day she would return home.

“Where is home, John?” She croaked. “Want me to go home to what, eh? To what?”

His knees gave in beside her in defeat and lay on the ground beside his wife, if he still could call her that. They stared at each other as if trying to rope in every single thing that made them come together in the first place. Tears streamed down his face, outlining every dimple, every crease, and every freckle that kissed his cheeks. He sucked in a breath and slowly extended one of his hands towards her. The hand crawled its way through the grass and enveloped her small ones, making her break out into a sob.

“I can’t undo everything. I can’t bring him back. But-“ he sucked in a breath, “I promised to stand by you and love you and do my best to protect you.” His hand left hers and wiped her tears, leaving his fingers to linger on her cheek. “M-my love,” he called out to her affectionately, “I promised you chickens and blue skies and love and I-“ once again his voice betrayed him. Broken promises unable to be redeemed.

“The kids keep asking about where their mum is and if you've gone with Will, and I just don’t know what to fuckin’ tell them.” Her eyes sprung back with a bit of shimmer at the mention of their kids. The ones she and John created out of pure love. Words can't seem to be enough as the grief sets in between them. The long nights they shared waking up to take care of their first born. All of his firsts shared in their little house on Watery Lane. The first scare, the first fever, first words, first day of school, all shared between the couple as new parents. All their firsts, including the one they shared currently, one they wished with all their hearts that they wouldn't be able to.

“Tell me about them,” she whispered, “what have they been up to?”

And so John rambled on about their mischievous children and their silly, little occurrences. He told her how Polly had been staying in their home taking care of them while you both grieved. His eyes lit up at the mention of Tommy dropping by with Charlie every few days, just happy at seeing his big brother being there for him. How Arthur took them to the park and Finn took them for spins in the car. His face lit up as he heard her giggle making his insides warm at the tought of her finding joy in his words.

“We both lost him, Y/N. We both lost everything, but we have more kids to live for.” He gripped her crying face in his rough hands and brought her closer to his. “Don’t push me away. I fuckin’ need you too and I refuse to do this without you.”

His tone desperate, hands shaking and eyes broken.

Her face tired and eyes equally, but a newfound hope sprang in her wilting heart. She twisted her head and placed kisses on the palm of his hand.

With a slight push they rose to their feet in unison. John looped his arm through hers and slowly descended the hill that stood near their house. From the window Polly stood watching in hopes that she would spring into herself once again. Always fond of the girl that stole her nephew’s heart and cared for like a daughter of her own. But Polly knew all too well the feeling of losing a child. The guilt, the loneliness, the madness that came with the empty rooms and ear, shattering silence. Yet, knew it was a matter of time before Y/N managed to pull herself out of the spell. Because, as much as she knew how these things clawed their way into your lives, nothing could destroy the love and determination she and John held for them and their family.

#John Shelby #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #John Shelby x reader #peakascum #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #arthur shelby imagine #finn shelby imagine #Polly Gray imagine #peaky blinders one shot #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby

186 notes · View notes

drxmypirate · 3 years

Text

Dark Disciple aka How I let yet another fictional piece of art break me, shatter my heart

So I read Dark Disciple two days ago and I love it so much I can’t even put it in words. I was crying and sobbing then and I sit here today still crying and sobbing over the ending and its brilliance

i love i love i love it

SPOILERS AHEAD:

I did heave some expectations when I bought the book although i did not know what they were. I simply hoped that it would be good. All of those hopes and expectations have been exceeded and more.

I did not think much of Quinlan Vos before but now I love him, I liked Ventress much before but now i love her. And i could have never imagined I’d love the two of them together that much.

The story begins and it’s amazing. I realise LOVE STORY LOVE STORY YAYYY IT’S BEAUTIFUL and read on and on and it gets better and better. They talk about running away together AAAHHH I LOVE IT

IT JUST FEELS LIKE STAR WARS AND AT THE SAME TIME IT SEEMS LIKE A FANFICTION - I LOVE IT

I read on and realise I’m not even halfway through the book. BUT THEY’RE HAPPY NOW. Let’s just end it here and say they lived happily ever after.

But then they go on to their assassination and of course everything goes terribly wrong.

Up to this point I had to stop after everry fey lines because it was so beautiful and sweet and amazing and I needed to cope with my felings. But then startet the part where I had to stop every line because I was afraid to read on. MY POOR BABYS being seperated and tortured and suffering- both on their own. And then when she came to rescue but he was already gone and broken by all the agony and anguish and torment I didn’t dare to read more than a line at once.

I love it so much I couldn’t stop reading but at the same time had to pause to recover frommy feelings

And then he was back and you cold tell something was not right BUT WHAT IS IT. Very smart of you (writer) to not show his perspective and let me in the dark, figure it all out as it goes on

And all the time, whenever I think CAN IT GET EVEN WORSE. CAN’T THEY JUST LIVE PEACEFULLY HAPPILY EVER AFTER there’s another turn or revelation

And we come to the last part. Quinlan seems lost. He’s acting dumb dumb DUMB. IDIOT JUST LEAVE THE DARK SIDE BE AND RUN AWAY IT’S NOT THAT HARD: And he acts just like Ani in ROTS- he simply doesn’t stop when he could be happy. AAAAHHH he deserves to be happy

And then theres suffering. Everyone is suffering I’m suffering because I think it can’t again turn worse.

And just like that the last few chapters happen. And I’m shattered as I realise Ventress wom’t recover from this. I didn’t realise it immediately but when i did it hit me - and I started crying and sobbing and more crying and more sobbing. NONONONO THEY WERE HAPPY. BUT MY POOR QUINLAN VOS TURNED TO THE LIGHT AT LAST NOW THeY COULD BE HAPPY and i still can’t believe she’s gonna die. SOMETHING HAS TO HAPPEN: SOMETHING IS GONNA HAPPEN, RIGHT? SHE’S NOT GONNA JUST DIE LIKE THAT and then she just dies like that and i have to read the part again because i can’t believe my eyes. Im crying and sobbing and as i read it again i cry more and realise she’s actually dead

How did I not know she was gonna die? How could I think she would just live on. Befor this book i thought she would just live on on her own. THen I thought she would be happy WITH QUINLAN VOS

Still in tears i read the last chapter and cry some more as it ends

Dark Disciple is a piece of art. Its truly wonderful and i can’t put my love for it in words. I love Star Wars as a whole and I love this book in specific.

It’s a masterpiece and perfectly fits into Star Wars.

I love the story, the lovestory. And I love how both Asajj Ventress and Quinlan Vos get their redemption arc. Ventress got pardoned for her war crimes and actually showed that this pardon and the trust the jedi placed in her was justified. Vos got his redemption as well, and i think both his fall to the dark side and his redemption arc are perfectly done. I especially love how we get to see him fall to the dark side and how all of it unfolds.

We also get to see how desperate the jedi council gets towards the end of the Clone Wars, they’re willing to assassinate their enemy and they talk about executions, both measure are obviously far from the jedi way. And I also think that this is perfectly leading up to ROTS.

The lovestory between Ventress and Quinlan i think is beautiful and it is written amazingly, as is the whole book. It is just tragic how they start off and seem so happy and then everything falls apart somehow. i simply love this book and i ca’nt say it often enough. They certainly deserved a happily ever after and im already looking forward to seeing what brilliant fanfictions there are.

I see that to those who prefered the old Canon/Legends story of Quinlan Vos - i’m not really familiar with it and therefore only know it exists and that it’s very different- and those who insist on Ventress being a Lesbian, that it might not be what makes their hearts and souls happy and that they would preferd to have canon different. I love this book and the story and it just makes me happy and sad and a ton of other emotions at the same time.

As there already is so much toxicity within the Star Wars fandom, I just want to say that i respect when sombody doesn’t like a certain part of Star Wars but I think we should still come to see that Star Wars as a whole is simply beautiful and there should never be hatred against somebody based on whether or not somebody likes something or not.

I truly love Star Wars and i’m excitet for all that is to come. This book has a very special place in my heart and I can only say, one last time: I love it.

If anyone read this far, I’m impressed and want to say thank you. Writing all of this helped me cope with my own feelings about this book because i love it so much I can’t stop talking about it and I can’t concentrate on anything else but i think now i’m ready to go on with my life. When I look into all of social media there is so much hate among us all, and if we can’t even stop this and get along WITHIN ONE FANDOM how can one think about harmony for the whole world, which is something I sincerely hope we achieve some day.

I wish all of you a bright and shining year and hope only the best for the future

#dark disciple #star wars #star wars the clone wars #asajj ventress #quinlan vos #i love i love i love this book #i'm so glad i read this book #it's truly beautiful

13 notes · View notes

itsthe-neo-zone · 4 years

Text

Wands and potions: NCT Dream & WayV

Please read the Masterlist before continuing ahead with the upcoming chapter. Thank you.

A/N: I apologize for taking so long to post (im a mess) but i had some issues to deal with, personal things at home and some family members were feeling sick so things were a mess, as always I hope you enjoy the chapter and I’ll try to get back on track. I’m sorry if my posts aren’t up to the standard I usually output in.

Chapter 17:

[Lyra’s Pov]

[10th Jan 2005]

The first memory I had of my parents was a fight. It was one of my earliest. And one id never forget. The shouts and screams being thrown about. It was hazy and only when I began whimpering and crying weakly the blond male lifted me up into his hold. His cold icy eyes warming up for me. Melting the frozen glacier of cerulean into a deep royal navy.

I’ve been hidden from everyone and anyone around me for their safety and their status in the social wizarding world. I was a child that wasn’t ever supposed to be born and it was hurtful the longer the secret was kept. Whilst my siblings were given all the love and care in the world, lived to be around them in a comforting lovable world. I was left to be brought up by myself. Alone.

[06:18PM]

“You deserve to know, and I deserve to be treated like I’m desired, like I’m loved and wanted.” I murmured quietly my voice came out fragile and broken, its displayed the 14 years of raw emotion behind it.

“Remember when you told me you really felt we were like sisters?” I saw Selene’s expression warp into confusion her lips between teeth as she sat next to me her eyes shaking nervously. She didn’t want to glance into my own, but she nodded confirming my words.

“Well we could be, if Scorpius believes me... when I tell him, I- I’m his half-sister. His blood sister...” Selene stared as if I'd just produced a rhinoceros from my pocket. Though the expression on Scorpius face was unreadable. It was a mix of confusion, guilt and denial.

“Please say something.” I pleaded, he needed to respond. In any way possible, I needed to know how he felt. My heart was being torn by the second, this was worse than being stabbed multiple times and left to bleed to death...

“I can’t- i don’t know- how do I?” he sighed, exasperatedly. “I need some time to think about this.” He stood his eyes frantically looking around, Scorpius looked anxious wanting to leave, and even though it was freezing cold he was loosening the green tie around his neck.

“Please, don’t tell anyone. You can’t let anyone know.” I stood desperately wanting to hold or grab him. I yearned for his acceptance for so many years. My only sibling I cared about. This had to be kept a personal family secret as well.

“Scorpius, are you ok? Do you need me to-” “NO, no- I’m fine,” it came through gritted teeth...

“Selene, just stay with her? I need some space.” He quickly takes his leave frantically looking off, not once did he look back at us.

“Give him some time, he’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

“How are you taking this?” I turn to Selene who was hugging me, her arm on my back comforting me. She seemed dazed, her eyes were clouded. It’s like she wasn't here.

“You were already my sister; all you did was give me confirmation.” She held me close pulling me into her hold.

“Thank you, for being here.” I whisper clutching her robes her hair tickling the side of my face. I was glad to have her around me.

[06:25PM]

Pieces of mirror shatter breaking into a shower of tiny pieces; the amount of negative energy in the air was boundless. “Scorpius please calm down.” the rage in him needed to get out somehow? He wasn’t himself.

“He lied! HE LIED TO ME AND HER!” the bloodcurdling cry echoed; his mouth wide open as he released his inner demons. The scream made all the hair on his body stand. Albus wanted to stop him. To help him.

He couldn’t.

“He had another child, behind her back, she was thrown to the side. Like it was nothing!” The sobbing continued gales began to swirl and enter through the sides of the bathroom. Unknowingly, he was brewing a whirlwind. A storm hitting, equal to the force it felt inside him. It was building for weeks now and all Lyra did was confirm the reality.

His vice was strained, and it hurt like hell, but he continued letting all the pain and sorrow out. His head was pounding now. He wanted it to stop. Scorpius yearned for the numb feeling

“Stop you’re going to hurt yourself.” We he? Scorpius wished He’d hurt himself. Maybe that pain would distract him from the searing agony he was feeling. Pain sears through his abdomen better than a branding iron, his mind conceding to the torment, unable to bring a thought to completion.

Everything had been a lie.

“Want it to end. Please.” The crouched figure in the centre of the room strained himself. He didn’t want to be here anymore. “leave.”

Albus couldn’t do that. He couldn’t leave his friend in such a vulnerable and defenceless position. “let me help you.” A crack in his voice, it shows the pain he was feeling it reflected into Albus. the young boy stumbled back pushing from the sheer force of the gales that tormented Scorpius this whole time.

“I SAID GO!”

The pain was increasing in waves; getting bigger by the second, giving false hope of an end. But it would never end.

It was too loud to hear anything at this point the push of the wind tore bits off the wooden cubicle doors. Becoming spinning daggers of anger within the whirling storm.

Scorpius increased the howling gusts, faster and faster until they sheathed him with a spray of sprinkled sharp edges and crusted glass, they shimmered in the ill lit bathroom; the gloomy skies reflecting its dusty grey cold rays.

“Scorpiu-”

Albus had no way of coming near him he was forced out of the bathroom having no choice but to leave his friend in there suffering alone. The soft tears fell down the boy’s face, he hated the haunted feeling of having no form of control over the situation.

Across the empty acres of land, empty silent castle hauntingly still not much moving, was two figures perched up upon the north towers. A forbidden duo, though ones that felt comforted in another’s presence. The light breeze slowly yet surely trying to pull against their night robes.

“I want to get over the anxiety I have, I want to control my feelings not the other way.” murmured to the male, she had been spending most of her time. Days -and starting now- her nights were spent with the devilish Durmstrang boy.

“It’s not easy.” he spun on his own two feet looking across the edge of the tower towards her. Selene was perched upon the handle of the metallic barrier.

“I know. but I want to at least try. Will you help me?” Selene was in her sleeping robes she was twiddling with her wand spending most her days with him she had gotten extremely comfortable with the male who she has come to know for his sharp tongue and the ability to be quite convincing.

“I will. But first you need to show that you can trust me.”

“I do, I trust you.” Selene leaned off just a little further. She was content in being here silently with him. But was he? did he enjoy their secret nights alone?

“Do you think I can be like them?” letting her hair cascade past her figure, taking orders from the wind it wrapped over her -like the tentacles of the giant squid- across her body.

“Like them?” Repeating the words; he asked for more.

“My ancestors. I want to find out more.” It was like a persistent hunger that couldn’t be satiated. From a fairly long time, it was that absence of complete acceptance and love. Deep down she understood that but was she never going to admit it?

“You want to follow the prophecy?” a hesitant nod answered his questioning. the endless chewing on her dry lips and thoughts fighting against one another proved to show the utter confusion in what she really wanted. The certainty was on one thing though “I want to belong.”

“A girl, Dominique, from Beauxbaton.” Leaving the edge Selene moved towards the boy getting slightly closer. “She mentioned that the Lestrange ancestral family had a connection to France.”

“You think it could be important?” she pondered over his words for a moment. “Didn’t you mention that Grindelwald had his convocation in Paris France?”

“He did. But what’s-”

“I can find out more, what happened? Who I am.” Curling back into herself Selene hummed a soft tune she was comforted by her own arms wrapping around herself. Making her feel the soft pressure upon her own body.

“Selene.” Yangyang mumbled as he stepped closer sitting next to her “When you were at the mirror, the first time we met, it showed you something.” he grasped her two hands in his softly rubbing his slender fingers over her palm. His eyes were captivating.

“it showed me myself.”

“it showed you something else along with it.” He edged, the slight smile on his face and his eyes boring into selenes pushed her to continue. It felt as if everything was surreal, it was all a dream, why was everything so easily spilling past her lips.

“What I wanted; I want to find myself.” Capturing his eyes she glanced at the void contained the magnitude of the earth and the blackhole sucking the shimmers of light inwards. Nothing could escape.

“I promise I can help you do that, but you can’t go to France just yet.”

“I can’t go to France…” Selene murmured his eyes were captivating. As time passed slowly, she fell deeper into his gaze.

“Yes, you have something to do. First.”

[13th October]

“Someone has taken a large noticeable dose of tentacle juice, from the private potions storage. If anyone has any known whereabouts or knows of anyone having sources, you must inform your head of year or head of house. Thank you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me-” shifting to take seat next to her position next to the others the raven-haired witch sat calmly the frustration only evident in her voice. “-they wake us up at 8am for this?”

“Yeah, some bastard nicking a few drops of poison…” Irene adds muttering, every single student for a 20-meter radius was yawning uncontrollably and dozing off on the study tables but once awake you needed to prepare for breakfast.

“Where were you this morning?” Ravelle had a sly smile on her lips as she pondered not so innocently over the whereabouts of the ginger witch before her.

“Out taking a short walk.” Blowing out an exasperated huff Selene stood taking her leave from the depressing and sleep deprived circle, “You know there’s only so much ‘Ravelle’ I can take in one day.” Sarcasm slipping past her voice was what made the sneaky witch drop her innocent act.

“Really, I’ve only asked you one question you shouldn’t be so defensive… unless there is something for you to hide?”

Selene stopped in her tracks, movement stuttering for a second. The wrapping of a dusty cloth rough in her hands.

“I have nothing to hide.” The outrage in her voice was enough to alert those around them that somewhat of a fight was about to start and, like the usual- all hell was about to break loose.

“Though I must let you know that I am exceeding the amount of ‘bitchiness’ I can take from you in a day so mind if I leave?” she widened her eyes turning to face the raven and nodded frivolously, she feigned sorrow for her and a sympathetic smile came to her face as she left.

“Thought you’d never ask…” Ravelle murmured the words she wasn’t interested in Selene herself. The antics she had grown accustomed to, -since that night with the celebratory introduction Selene had been on edge, spitting back ruthlessly and harsh words were leaving her lips- Ravelle eyed the linen wrap in her hands, it covered something, and it was important, no doubt delicate by the way she was cradling it to her core like a mother would do to her babe.

[1st November]

Many days passed and winter edged nearer, visibly shortening the once lengthy and enjoyable days. The cold let soft cotton and thick clothes layer up with the many peaking noses out of scarves turn red and pink.

The clouds of air exhaled when talking put things together but what really allowed the community to know the ending of summer solstice was the thick coat of white sheen that glistened in the early morning rays, covering the lands and lulling them to sleep.

“Anyone received any personal invites to the yule ball?” Albus whispered to the young brunette. The two now becoming much friendlier than usual were confiding in themselves after all they both had Scorpius to worry about.

“No not yet.” She glanced at him weary of the random questioning. lyra had enough on her plate already. It was harsh and difficult that her only brother wasn’t talking to her and Selene was sleeping off half her days and running of at night.

“If this is about Selene the-” “It’s not.”

“Then who-”

“I’m just asking.” She shuffled to turn towards him, sceptically reading his face the Slytherin shifted uncomfortably. “Such a liar.”

“You dummy, I can see it in your eyes. Who pushed you to do this? This is about Selene.”

“It isn’t, I swear.” His hands flew up in retaliation. The silent pause of scepticism made him sigh in relief when she dropped the accusations.

“I’m sick of this, it’s all going to hell and I cant get any of them to even sit and talk to me. It’s awful.” Lyra whined her frustration could be seen in the way she tugged at her roots the hair lengthier than it was a few weeks ago.

“Scorpius isn’t ready to face this ye-.”

“-Hell never be ready then. Albus I can’t wait any more. How does he think I feel?” the brunette boys turned into saucers at the sudden interruption. She had been waiting for the past 3 weeks and it was getting agitating for a while, but nobody understood her. The way she felt.

“Whats wrong with Selene then? He can’t talk now so whats the issue with your ginger friend?”

“Oh don’t get me started with her.” She shifts in her seat lyra was starting to remember the situations Selene was in, breaking her heart for the past fortnight. “She’s gone, really lost it.”

“Sleeps all day and sneaks out at night, its odd Selene would have never done such a thing.” She mutters, the frown on her face showed her feeling of betrayal. “I can’t get her to spend any time with me at all, it’s always ‘Yangyang this Yangyang that’!”

“Wait.”

“You mean Durmstrang Liu” if his eyes were saucers back then they were as wide as cauldrons. His hands clenched up visibly the whole demeanor he possessed was stiffened within a second, Lyra didn’t comprehend the change until she spared him a quick glimpse.

“Yeah him,” she blinked dropping her head further into her grasp as she questioned his body language “Whats got you so surprised, most girls already know!”

“Liu Yangyang that German-Taiwanese boy?” the voice crack gave him away, there was definitely something wrong, but Lyra had no clue what was happening to him, what kind of reaction was that.

“Hold on know what?” he interrupted again.

“Well, supposedly they’re in a relationship, and I don’t know… but he’s really affecting Selene.”

“They can’t be though?” the denial in his voice was giving all the wrong signals and signs, Lyra turned towards him fully, hands out of hair and eyes skimming his face, his expression wasn’t helping the previous accusations planted upon him by her.

“Why Albus? Do you like her or something?”

What came out of his mouth after wasn’t a big shocker or anything but lyra was shocked to find out such a revelation and from him, Albus, who seemed to have no clue who the boy is.

“No, its just. He has a girlfriend already,”

“Yeah Selene.” The response came quick.

“No, he’s engaged to her, its not Selene. She’s back in Germany.” He was referring to another girl, that Selene wasn’t the only one in a relationship with the male and it made Lyra's blood boil.

“HE’S TWO-TIMING?”

The two had another issue to deal with, Selene couldn’t find out, even if it meant lying to her. She wouldn’t be able to handle what was to come.

@ajuniceuajuniceu @kkuljungwoo @sensiblebutch @kangkinoa @nctzen2020 @mystic-jungkook @merryandhappylele @bcbymingi @mochischeeks @rilakunma @jaehyunspaghetti @commentgirl @99jjh @johnnys-wifeu @misaraem @apricottulips @h2ogamergirl @angelsnowflake

#Wands and Potions #nct hogwarts au #wayv series #NCT Dream Scenarios #nct x reader #chenle x reader #yangyang x reader #nct yangyang #wayv senarios #nct scenarios #Park Jisung #wayv hogwarts au #kpop fanfiction #kpop series #nct dream series #liu yangyang #school au

31 notes · View notes

yourdanganronpaneedshere · 5 years

Note

heya long time no see! remember that time i made a request but the requests were closed?, welp now that they're open again, im here to re-send mine as i promised owo; how would rantaro, kokichi, shuichi, kaito and kiibo react when they see their (S/O) escaping from her execution, and when everything is over, she appears behind them all tired and exhausted saying "did ya' miss me?"

HeY GUYS, sorry for the long absence lmao, but it’s one in the morning and I need some ANGST. Anyways, I’m glad you’re back hun! I was really excited to do this ask!

~ Mod Hiyoko

Amami, Ouma, Saihara, Momota and Kiibo’s Fem! S/O escaping her execution!

Rantaro Amami

There was a dark aura in the trial grounds as everyone’s chatter continued on. Rantaro had a feeling since they first exited the elevator that you were hiding something, and as the trial went on, the sinking feeling in his stomach only got worse.

He didn’t really care so much how or when you committed the murder, he just wanted to know why. He wouldn’t even have imagined his dear S/O committing such an atrocious act.

You began to grow more and more nervous as you felt his stone gaze beat into you… Like he was staring into your soul. Finally, you just admitted it was you.

Rantaro let out a sigh. Definitely not one of relief. More like a weight he had been carrying was now off his shoulders, but in the worst way possible.

It was a particularly messy kill, so people didn’t have too hard of a time believing it was you. The vote was cast swiftly and everyone stared at the screen as your portrait appeared. You were the Blackened.

Your classmates looked at you in a mixture of pity and remorse. They demanded you explain your actions in minute detail, but the only voice you could register was that of your boyfriend’s.

“Why?” Rantaro asked you simply. “Why did you do this?”

“B-because…” It was hard to speak with everyone’s gazes upon you, but you managed to choke out your explanation, and everyone appeared satisfied, aside from a few snide remarks from Miu and Kokichi, but Rantaro shut them up with a harsh glare.

You couldn’t tell if he was disappointed, sad, angry, or a mix of the three, but all you felt in that moment was shame so heavy that you felt like you deserved whatever Monokuma had in store for you.

Rantaro approached you, and you braced yourself for harsh words, but instead he gently wrapped his arms around you in a loving embrace. His hugs were always the best, but this one was tighter than usual, and he was slightly trembling.

“I love you S/O. I’m so, so sorry.”

He tried to grab you again when you were dragged off to face your execution, but there was nothing he could do. He felt empty. The anger and depression wouldn’t sink in until much later, all he could think about was that you were gone. Or else he thought.

“Did ya miss me?”

He stared at you, mouth agape, but he nodded in response. He gently placed his hand on your cheek and caressed it with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you.

“Yeah, I did.”

Kokichi Ouma

For once, Kokichi almost lost his composure. He knew it was you from the very beginning, but a part of him thought maybe, just maybe there was a chance he could be proven wrong.

He kept his arms carelessly rested behind his head, he had the same mischievous grin, and he still toyed with your classmates like it was all a game to him. But inside, he was panicking. He finally found someone he could trust, and she had to go and kill someone. He felt betrayed, but the common sense in him told him not to jump to any conclusions just yet.

To your surprise, Kokichi barely acknowledged you at all throughout the entire trial. But then again, you knew him long enough to know that he probably had connected all of the dots long beforehand. Was he pissed off? Did he not care? There was no way for you to know.

Everyone else came to the same conclusion he had, and trial ended with you being voted as the Blackened. Since you were dating Kokichi, everyone had assumed that you were as nasty as him by default, so no one was really surprised.

“Why did you do it?” It wasn’t Kokichi who had asked this, but Shuichi. Your boyfriend was still actively ignoring you.

“I…” You explained to the best of your abilities. Your motivations came to a bit of a shock to the others. They expected something more… Sadistic.

You knew every second drew you closer to death, and you wanted to break the silence between Kokichi and yourself before you left him for good. You spoke his name, but he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“Wait!” He turned towards Monokuma with a desperate look on his face that surprised even you.

“Execute me instead! You want someone to die, right? Kill me in her place!”

You stood there blankly, unable to process what was going on. Kokichi, who had been ignoring you for the whole trial, who hadn’t even reacted to your confession, was now pleading for your life.

Monokuma just laughed at him. The black and white bear pulled a lever and the chain gripped your neck in a tight hold and yanked you backwards.

Kokichi screamed out your name as you disappeared. Shortly after, you reappeared on the large screen, and everyone watched as you withstood indescribable torture. Kokichi couldn’t even watch the end. He turned away, a dark shadow covering his expression. You were gone. The only person who had ever truly loved him. The Mastermind would be put through hell. He would see to it personally.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he whipped around to see your triumphant smirk.

“Miss me?”

“W-what?”

Not much time was spent before he tackled you in a hug. His heart pounded in his chest, and he fought to hold back tears. His stance on the Mastermind still stood. They would pay in their blood for what happened to you, but that would have to wait awhile. Kokichi didn’t plan on letting you go any time soon.

Shuichi Saihara

Shuichi couldn’t believe it. It was Kaede all over again, but this time worse. At that point, he was convinced God wanted to see him suffer.

It hurt him immensely to do so, but as the Ultimate Detective, it was his job to root out the truth and save his fellow classmates from impending doom… Even at the cost of his lover’s life.

The entire time he followed the trail towards you, he felt the lump in his throat getting ever bigger. He knew without a doubt you were the killer, but he couldn’t bring himself to flat out say it. You both made direct eye contact, and though your lips were in a straight line, and your eyebrows rested comfortably like you could care less about the world, your eyes spoke to him in a way that said “it’s okay. You can say it.”

And so he did.

“…and my deductions have lead me to believe that… S/O is the killer.”

Everyone gasped. Partly at the fact that he thought you were the killer, but also because he could accuse his girlfriend of murder so calmly. It was a whirlwind of emotions in the trial room, but no one’s shock could outmatch the pure despair you and Shuichi felt in that moment.

Before he voted, Shuichi insisted you explain your actions, and internally begged that you at least killed them on accident, and not in an act of cold blood.

After you had explained everything with tears in your eyes threatening to spill over, everyone cast their vote, and all that was left to do was wait.

Shuichi didn’t waste anymore time on talking, tears fell from his eyes like a waterfall and he solemnly walked up to you and pulled you into his arms. He didn’t even care why you did it. He was about to lose the most important person in his life, and it was going to be shown on a huge t.v. like it was some sort of joke.

“I’m so sorry Shuichi.” You felt like you had to say something, something to calm his nerves, and to atone for the emotional strain he was put through, but he just shook his head and squeezed you tighter.

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve prevented this from happening, I should’ve-”

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! IIIIIIIIIT’S, PUNISHMENT TIME!”

In the blink of an eye, you were ripped from Shuichi’s grasp and pulled onto the execution grounds. It happened so fast Shuichi couldn’t even react. He just watched in silent agony as you went through your death. It was torture. There was no way he would be able to bounce back from this. But… maybe God didn’t hate him as much as he thought.

“Ya miss me?”

Of course he would ask a million questions once you got out of there, but at that moment all Shuichi did was hold you while the sobbing started up again.

Kaito Momota

Kaito was yelling throughout the entire trial. It wasn’t unusual for him to be vocal during trials, but this time there was unadulterated anger and frustration lacing his words as everyone began to accuse you of the murder.

“W-What the hell are you guys saying?! S/O would never kill anyone! Shuichi-”

But even his sidekick wasn’t there with him this time. Kaito desperately looked over at you, inwardly begging you to show any sign of innocence, but the look of guilt in your eyes said it all.

Even after everyone had voted and you were revealed to be the Blackened, he was still in denial. He tried to run at Monokuma, yelling various insults and curse words while Shuichi and Kiibo both held him back.

Nobody would ever catch him cry, but the sadness in his eyes was enough.

“S/O, why?”

You explained everything, expecting Kaito to be furious with you. He was furious, all right, but not with you; with the Mastermind.

He panicked when Monokuma announced that it was time for your punishment, and ran over to you, wrapping you in a protective embrace. But the chain grasped your torso, and even Kaito’s strong hold wasn’t enough to keep you from being yanked backwards.

He watched your execution, gritting his teeth the entire time.

“DAMN IT!” He yelled, pounding his fist on a nearby surface. It wasn’t fair. You shouldn’t have been forced to kill. He was going to stop this killing game. For you, and for-

His thoughts were interrupted by a voice coming from behind him.

“Did ya miss me?”Surprisingly, his shock didn’t last long before he pulled you into a hug. Like I said, nobody would ever see him cry… But at that moment, he was pretty damn close.

K1-B0

Kiibo couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t wrap his head around how you could get yourself in this position. Whether you killed on purpose or by accident, he was just… dumbfounded.

The entire trial he was silent. Normally he would chime in, as eager to solve the murder and get back to his life as everyone else. But now he could only watch in depressed silence as the trial continued on. You had told him beforehand exactly what happened, and though Kiibo did have his own sense of justice… he still couldn’t send his lover to her death.

But once the trial came to a close and your face appeared on the large t.v. signifying your guilt, his silence came to an end. There was a flood of emotions he didn’t even know he could feel. Sadness at your impending death, fear at what said death would hold in store for you, and anger that you were forced into this situation in the first place.

Everyone asked why you did what you did, Kiibo included, and you answered honestly. Monokuma’s shrill and ugly voice rang out, saying it was time for your punishment. You ran to Kiibo to share one last hug, and kissed him gently on his cheek, apologizing for leaving him. Kiibo assured you he held no hard feelings, and himself apologized for letting it come to this.

He broke down in tears when the chain yanked you backwards into the black abyss; into the trial grounds fit only for the Ultimate (Talent) herself.

You two were always together… How could this happen? You swore to protect each other, and he lost you. Throughout your execution, he was thinking of ways he could destroy the Mastermind and end the killing game. Kiibo couldn’t allow anyone else to die.

He didn’t even notice the amazed gasps coming from his classmates as you stumbled up behind him, at least, not until he heard your voice.

“Did you miss me?”

“S-S/O?”

Kiibo wasted no time in rushing over to you, wrapping his arms around you, which, needless to say, was a little painful, but at the time you didn’t care; you simply hugged him back and cried with him. As emotional as this moment was, you would have a lot of explaining to do later… As well as a very pissed off Monokuma to deal with.

#yourdanganronpaneedshere #yourdanganronpaneeds #mod hiyoko #ndrv3 #rantaro amami #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #kiibo #x reader #fem reader #danganronpa imagines #rantaro x reader #kokichi x reader #shuichi x reader #kaito x reader #kiibo x reader

941 notes · View notes

doyouevenshipbr0 · 4 years

Text

gruvia drabble:

author’s note: OK SO a little while ago @lovelocksers posted a GENIUS hc that juvia has probably killed someone before like when she was in phantom lord……. so…… i wrote this to go along w that hc hehe❤️❤️❤️ enjoy<3 also. yes. im reposting this. cus heres the thing..... NOTHING I FUCKING POST SHOWS UP IN THE GRUVIA TAGGGGG its so annoying but anyway yea sorry im re-posting this lol uwu

He was dead.

Juvia hung over his lifeless body, screaming for him. Begging him to wake up. She shook him up and down, side to side, but to no prevail. She needed help. She looked around at her surroundings, and was not granted any sort of comfort. It was just the two of them and the enemy, after all. Hell, Gray didn’t even want her there in the first place. Juvia hated when Gray went on missions on his own, though, and she had a bad feeling that something was wrong. To her dismay, she was right. The enemy was rambling about something, and he had a disgusting grin on his face, but Juvia couldn’t hear what he was saying. It was all fuzzy.

Juvia slowly turned her glance back to Gray, her head was heavy and it pounded. She placed two fingers at his wrist. Nothing. No beat. Only coldness. Just as she suspected.

If only she was just a few minutes earlier. Then maybe, Gray would’ve had a chance. Or if she insisted that she went with him in the first place. But that didn’t matter now. Her vision of Gray was becoming blurred with tears flooding from her eyes. She decided she couldn’t look at his pale face any longer without physically breaking, so she looked back up at the enemy.

Mindlessly, Juvia rose to her feet. It was only then that she noticed the torrential downpour that she was causing.

“So you’re finally done crying and ready to fight?” The man snickered, getting into a fighting stance.

She didn’t waste any time. As much as it would’ve felt great to beat everything out of him, at this point, she only had one thing in mind: revenge. This was exactly as it should be. An eye for an eye.

“Water Lock: Unbreakable.” She swore to herself to never use this spell— this curse, ever again. Not only was it a ruthless spell, but it took a lot out of her as well. One could only cast it if they were confident in that moment that their heart was cold, not a drop of good to be found. She hadn’t cast this spell with such confidence in so long, but she didn’t care.

As her hand stretched out in front of her, an orb of dark water encased itself around the enemy. She watched as he fought and squirmed and did everything to try and break free, but Juvia clenched her hand, and his body crumpled and cracked. As she twisted her hand, so did his body, and although she sadly could not hear him, he was letting out cries of agony.

Gray felt a burn trickle across his body. He finally awoke from his unconsciousness and was met with boiling hot water streaming over his body. It wasn’t just hot water, but it was rain. The rain was steaming hot. The last thing he remembered was his heart slowing down and his body going cold, just as he went limp. He had a feeling his body was shocked back awake by the heat of the water drenching over him.

“Tsk!” He recoiled, and finally sat up. What was happening? Where was he? He was dazed, but he knew the pouring rain was never a good sign.

He looked to his side and saw the back of Juvia. She stood firmly as she had the enemy in her water lock. Except, this water lock was different. It was dark, and menacing. He was still regaining his vision but he could see that her hand that was usually flexed and firm while casting this spell was bent and twisted, which matched the twisting of the enemy’s body.

With what little freedom the man had, he held at his throat, and clawed at it. He needed air. Juvia however, didn’t seem to notice—or mind.

“You—!” Juvia finally screamed. “You took him! You took him from me! You took my everything!”Her raspy voice boomed as she screamed at the man trapped in the bubble. “Now you have to pay.” She finished.

She thought Gray was dead.

And now, she was going to kill him.

“No…” Gray breathed out. His eyes were wide at the sight before him. He couldn’t see Juvia’s face, but honestly, he’s not so sure he would want to. The pain, the infuriation, the anguish, it was all in her voice, and he could only assume her face matched it.

“Juvia!” Gray’s call was weak, but it was there. She didn’t budge, though. The rain was too much. “Shit!”

“Juvia! Stop it!” He called again, louder, but still not loud enough.

Gray looked around, and saw everyone was down. His body was numb from the battle, but at least Juvia’s rain was there to heat him up. He knew he would regret sudden movements later, but he didn’t have time to think about that now.

Juvia’s tears that leaked down her face felt cold. Paired with the rain, her tears were icy on her hot skin. Although it was a weird sensation, this was not all too foreign for her. She had been down this path before. She did what she had to, and while she could never forgive herself for it, she knew she had to move past it.

After this though, she didn’t know what she would do? Could she bounce back all over again for taking another life after so long? Without Gray, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

But it didn’t matter now. Right then, all that mattered was the problem at hand. She has to right the wrong that was done. She watched as the man squirmed, but his movements became less and less as his air lessened.

He was going to d-

A pressure suddenly fell on her back. Familiar arms were wrapped around her shoulders, and she felt a knock of the back of her head, with what felt like another head.

“Don’t.” The word was all she needed. The voice went along with everything else she was feeling. It wasn’t too good to be true. Gray was there.

Without another word, she dropped her hand, and down went the man in the water bubble. He coughed and wretched, gasping for air just before passing out.

Her skin went clammy as the heat of the rain went down tremendously, and eventually came to a complete stop.

“Gray…sama…” Her lip quivered slightly.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” His forehead was still pressed, firmly against the back of her head, and his brow furrowed against her wet hair. Although the rain and battle stopped, his grip on her didn’t falter.

“Y-you’re-“ Juvia stammered.

“Yeah.” Was all he followed with before Juvia collapsed to the ground. Her knees hit the mud, and she instantly wept. She cried out brielfy before muffling her screams by putting her face in her hands. She had yet to even look at Gray yet, but he was still there. He remained upright on his knees, embracing Juvia’s shaking frame.

“Juvia— Juvia almost—!” She gasped for air, and her chest tightened. Her hand was now only covering her mouth, and her eyes were bulging as she stared at the ground. The last five minutes played over and over in her head on loop.

“Stop. Just breathe.” Gray’s voice was soothing, and Juvia couldn’t help but melt into it. She finally turned around and saw her beloved’s face. After finally being able to look into his comforting eyes, she fell into his arms, this time her chest was pressed up against his.

“I’m so sorry Gray-sama…” She sobbed, and Gray responded with a tight hold on her head, keeping her pressed into him.

“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything.”

“Didn’t do anything?!” She shot up. “Juvia almost took that man’s life!” She cracked

“But you didn’t.” Gray was firm.

Juvia moaned and shook her head. “But I would have.” She was in such pain, and it showed in her voice.

Before Gray could say anything, Juvia continued. “And it wouldn’t be the first time.” Her tone was surprisingly clear.

Gray felt his body tense up at the confession. He was a bit confused, and Juvia read his expression, following with a brief explanation. “At Phantom Lord, you just did as you were told.” She hugged herself and shrugged. “No matter what…” She trailed off.

Honestly, Gray hadn’t thought much about Juvia’s life before Fairy Tail. Now, she lived by the same virtues as everyone else in Fairy Tail, which was not to kill. But she lived 17 whole years before that. Not only that, but she was a member of a dark guild, a group that doesn’t follow any sort of rules.

“Hey, we all have a past.” Gray said, calmly.

Juvia looked up at Gray, her eyes still hurt. “And what about the present? What if Juvia hasn’t changed as much as she thought she has?” Tears dripped onto her hands that were now placed at her knees, and her head dropped.

Gray wasn’t always the best with words. He was always more of an action kind of guy, so he did just that. He wrapped Juvia up once again, this time he had to force her into his chest rather than her falling. She struggled for a moment, but she eventually reciprocated, and wept once again.

“Juvia thought you were dead.”

“I know.”

“Juvia thought…” She sniffed. “Juvia thought he killed you.”

“I know.”

“So…” She paused her weeps. “Does that make it ok?”

Gray wasn’t sure how to answer that, and he didn’t want to lie to her either. He wasn’t the one to decide what it meant to take a life “I don’t know.” He confessed.

Juvia cracked at his uncertainty, folding in even more, crying harder. “But what I do know, is that you are not the person you were in Phantom Lord.” Gray continued.

“You are bright, and kind, and cheerful, and you are easily the most caring and generous person I know.” His voice gained confidence the more he spoke.

Juvia broke, slightly, from Gray, and looked up at him with wet eyes. It was the sight of her face, her red sorrowful face so close to his, that finally made tears rush to his eyes as well.

“Really?” Juvia asked.

“Really.” He nodded. He placed a hand on her forehead, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “You’re an amazing person, Juvia. We all have our vices. You’re not alone, and I want you to remember that. Anyone at the guild would be more than willing to talk to you about anything, too, because we love having you as a member.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Juvia gave a hopeful smile.

“If Gray-sama thinks so highly of Juvia, then that makes me very happy.” She nuzzled back into his chest.

“Good.” He topped her head with his chin. “Crying doesn’t suit you.”

“Juvia is so lucky to have you, Gray-sama.” She said sweetly, grabbing at his bare back.

He held onto her like he would never let go.

“That’s my line.”

#gruvia #fairy tail #doyouevenshipbr0 #juvia #juvia lockser #gray x juvia #juvia x gray #gruvia fanfic #gruvia fanfiction #gruvia drabble #fairy tail fanfiction #ft #fairy tail fanfic

126 notes · View notes

iphoenixrising · 4 years

Text

Check, Please WIP: Part 1-4

AHL!Bitty

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

Notes:

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

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

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

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

** Pro

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

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

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

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

Off the ice...was a different story.

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

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

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

But, but!

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

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

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

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

Until this little shit came along.

** 1

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

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

Jack somehow started being his best friend without even trying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you did–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Jack. Okay.”

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

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

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

** 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

And my, how wrong he was about all that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not going to happen, bud.”)

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

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

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

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

“O-Oh!”

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

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

(“Good Lord, Jack, scoot over!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Don’t be so sure, Mister.”)

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

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

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

“Good thing you’re stuck at Samwell.”

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

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

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

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

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

** 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, now that’s life, ain’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, he’s so cute, Zimms.”

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

Or he might of just dreamed that part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he probably imagined all that, too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack blinks and Bitty groans softly.

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

“Rebels?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the man’s fish oven mitt is–

Wait for it

– named Fish.

Because Kent is a master at naming things, obviously.

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

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

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

“Of course I am, Kent. It is true.”

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

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

(When hell freezes over.)

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

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

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

Bitty sighs in unmitigated relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh does that hit Jack right in the heart.

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

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

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

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

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

At the time, no. No, he wasn’t.

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

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

Kenny…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh. Oh my.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Then, we’re all fine, right?”

Another nod and a squeeze to his hips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” is totally unrepentant, the ass.

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

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

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

“Bits?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why of course we are.”

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

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

“Yeah. Thanks, Bits.”

“You’re welcome, Kent.”

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

“Bits?”

Mmhm. There is it. “Yes, Kent?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So–”

He gets twin wait a minute fingers.

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is a good opportunity, Bits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That offer is for one season, though.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what, bud?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Really, it’s not.

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

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

Because of Jack.

Because Jack’s leaving.

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

Something to think about another day.

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

** 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

It does not go away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still, I want to be here for you.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh.”

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

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

And Lord above help him. He throws both arms around Jack, biting his lower lip between his teeth, and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.

“Jack...Kenny…thank-you, boys. Just when I need you, and there you are.” He chokes a little, and there’s Jack folding down around him, there’s Kent holding Kit closer to the phone, sending virtual purrs and cuddles.

He doesn’t feel that bad wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist shamelessly, locking his ankles in the back, and just not facing the world for a while.

It gets a little better when Jack tries to squeeze into a pair of his shorts while Kenny is brushing his teeth and talking about the camp they had at a local rink, running drills and plays with some of the high school kids from around the area.

But everything in the world absolutely pauses when Jack clears his throat awkwardly

And really, God Bless Canada.

The little sigh that comes out of him is echoed from his phone, and yes Kenny, they do have good taste.

“I can’t sleep in these, Bits, ah, sorry.”

But that color blue stretched taunt against Jack’s big thigh is just the best sight he’s probably ever seen.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got to offer. I can go talk to Dex?” Because Chowder has wider shoulders like Jack, but is about a foot shorter.

“Eh, not necessary.”

And well, yes. Bitty knows Jack wears cute little briefs. They were on a team together, have spent time in the locker room, have seen the occasional moment before towels go on. It’s men’s sports for crying out loud.

But none of that, absolutely none of that, prepares him for Jack shimmying out of those shorts for black briefs that absolutely mold to his behind and cup the front of him. The real coup de gras is that t-shirt coming off, and heaven help him, it’s muscles for miles.

Only those little briefs between Bitty and what the Good Lord gave Jack, the definition of fine walking across the room like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

Bitty unabashedly watches, lips parted, cheeks a soft shade of pink.

Jack closes the bathroom door, smirking where Bits can’t see, muffled noises as he roots around in the bathroom for a spare toothbrush. It gives Bitty can just take a second to himself to take in this whole situation.

He’s been outed on a national sports network that may or may not take the question of the Rebels right out of the equation

Chances of going all the way to the finals is looking slimmer and slimmer the more he thinks about it

Jack and Kenny confirmed some of his suspicions and it’s an absolute crime and a blessing that they’ve found each other again

Jack has gotten bulkier than Bitty realized in the last year and a half playing for the NHL and his ass should be marked as a dangerous weapon

He hasn’t answered any of the phone calls from home

Still, Coach sent him a text, Call your mother. She’s worried about you.

And top of the list, Jack Zimmermann is in his bathroom, shirtless, barefoot, after just having verbally come out to him.

If there was ever anyone that deserves to be up for Sainthood, it’s this good ole’ Georgia boy Right. Here.

With his head in his hands, he groans softly, and scurries to throw on his own sleep clothes, stripping down without a thought more than those short on Jack and those shorts off Jack.

“I absolutely feel you,” a breathy chirp, and he forgot Kenny probably saw the entire thing.

Bitty spins, almost ready to start getting on a boat down that river called denial when he realizes Kenny is giving him the most devilish looking smile.

“It’s really unfair that he’s a hockey God and blisteringly hot to boot.”

“We are the best of friends, I’ll have you know Mister Parson. Jack doesn’t even see me that way, even after tonight. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye set on someone prettier than little ole’ me.”

He throws the covers back to busy his hands, but can spare a second to put some charm into it and look back at Kenny with a wink.

It’s either the best or the worst timing because Kenny gets this look on his face, opening his mouth for something that might have been good or bad, when Jack comes out of the bathroom smelling like mint and looking like a touch could burn you down to the ground.

Kenny looks at him for a few long seconds while they’re climbing into bed, and chirps them about hands above the comforter and hockey bros cuddle like champs before he yawns and finally hangs up for the night.

The sheet gets maneuvered between them so he’s not going to be tortured most of the night with only his sleep shirt and pants between them–

(and those sinful underwear, he’s never going to forget those)

–so it’s suspiciously easy to drop off with Jack’s arm around him and snoring in his ear.

The next two games are utterly brutal.

Ice bags are wrapped around his shoulder while he sits in his spot in the locker room, forearms on his knees to just hurt while Chowder is talking at his right and Dex at his left.

The bruises tomorrow are going to be beautiful, but heck, what’s some bruises when Samwell is officially in the Frozen Four.

Lord, they made it.

And he will start celebrating, right after he can raise up his arm again.

Oh, that’s going to be sore tomorrow. Making pies for the campus captain club is going to be awful, isn’t it?

He manages to get the ice bags off in time to walk with the boys back to the Haus, Ollie already scooping up his bag and Chowder, bless his heart, hovering anxiously right by him the whole walk there.

They don’t make him do a keg stand this time, thank goodness, but the party celebrating their win is well underway in less than an hour.

It’s real nice when the Lax bros bring in a stack of pizzas and slap him on the back in congratulations, like he hadn’t just been outed on national television. (He loves Samwell so much.) Chad L. says a whole bunch of something that Bitty tries to follow and ends up handing him a plate with pizza and accepting a piece of pie in exchange.

The fire extinguisher is in plain sight to remind the footballers what could happen if they don’t behave, and at least two of his boys hang around him most the night, bracketing him on both sides to keep an eye on him. Ollie and Wicks pop around the corner periodically anyhow.

He catches Chowder taking a picture for social media, has a second of panic, almost tells his sweet son not to do that because everyone knows, but shuts his mouth last minute and straightens up to grin for the next one.

The night the news came out, Bitty changed his social media to private, hoping to avoid some of the homophobic comments. Since the morning after (and it’s a crying shame he missed seeing those little black briefs again since Jack was already dressed by the time he got up), he’s been talking to pretty much everyone.

Most of all, his Mama and Coach...and Mr. McLean.

Jack squeezes his hand, and Bitty bites his lip, but still, “I’m afraid I don’t think I should accept your offer after all. This isn’t going to blow over any time soon.”

“Mr. Bittle. I’m interested because you’re fast, you’ve got soft hand, and you’re a good fit for the Rebels. As far as I understand, this isn’t going to change any of that.”

“O-oh!”

“If you want to play hockey, Mr. Bittle, you can do that with us.”

And it’s there when he looks in Jack’s blue, blue eyes, when he thinks about Ollie and Wicks, when he thinks about Shitty being so kind when he’d come out to the first person on the team. It’s there when he thinks about being terrified at that first check practice, when he thinks about how dang far he’s come in four years.

(It’s tough, but you’re tougher.)

“I want to play hockey, Mr. McLean.”

“That’s the spirit Mr. Bittle. I’ll send you training camp information in the next week or so. Welcome to the Pawtucket Rebels.”

If Jack holds him tight while he almost shakes apart once he hangs up the phone, well, only Chowder and Dex will ever tell a soul because they fell on him and Jack like a ton of bricks, hugging him and laughing.

Shitty, Ranson, Holster, and Lardo make the trip from Boston to show up on the Haus doorstep before they’ve even finished clean-up from the party the night before.

Before he knows it, he’s got Shitty crying all over him, telling him he’s so proud and Bitty’s just the best little captain there ever was.

It’s so nice because Shitty is silly as hell, but he’s an amazing friend in times of need.

And he can’t say it isn’t nice when Shitty picks up the loud speaker and starts shooing the rest of the hanger-oners out.

“Frozen Four!” Ransom crows, “our guys are going to kick some ass.”

“You said it, bro,” Holster warmly pats Bitty on the shoulder with one of those big hands while this pie is just coming along easily enough.

The flinch when the bruises ache is enough for more ice bags to get wrapped around him, and Shitty to shake a finger in his face, talking about taking care of himself. It might not be a concussion, but they’ve got serious games coming up, and he needs to be tip top if he’s going to take them all the way.

Bitty takes it to heart and lets them baby him for a few hours.

It does get worse when Dex and Chowder see Holster pulling the neck of his shirt up a little to check how bad it is, and then he’s got more hockey players in his kitchen butting in. Luckily, Dex is getting just as good at making pie as Bitty, and finishes up the lattice work perfectly.

He talks strategy with Ransom and Holster at the kitchen table while Lardo makes another pot of coffee, and Chowder subtly slips the bottle of ibuprofen next to him. Whiskey listen to them strategize for the upcoming games, and my, don’t it feel so normal.

He hugs Shitty again, holds on just as tight as he can, and thanks the Good Lord for such amazing friends.

Mama and Coach are more understanding than he ever would have imagined, taken in account what a shock it is just to come across the television like that.

“Dickey, honey, now you know,” and she has to pause because Lord, his Mama is crying, “you know you can always come home. Always. No matter what. We love you. We love you and everything else, we can figure all that out.”

And so, since he’s never said it, only thought about what could happen, he tells her, “Mama… I’m gay.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know and that’s-that’s fine. We can figure it all out. But, you can come home sometime before the semester ends, can’t you?”

“N-not while we’re close to the Championships, Mama. I-I can’t–”

“Junior.”

And now he’s glad he just called instead of trying to FaceTime. So glad he doesn’t have to look Coach in the face right now.

“You’ve done a heck of a job this year. Been a good captain. You know me and your mama are proud, don’t you Junior?”

And there goes his lip all trembling, his eyes getting hot. Only Jack squeezing his hand keeps him together at all.

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. You just keep fighting. We’ll be here cheering you on, all right?”

His breath hitches in his chest, “yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy. You can do it, Junior. They’re tough–”

“–but I’m tougher,” and he’s covering his eyes, shoulder hunching down. Jack goes from holding his hand to pretty much lifting him up enough to slide on Jack’s lap.

“That’s right, son. You sure as hell are.”

He sighs out, a soft noise. “I am, Daddy. We made the Frozen Four.”

“Go get ‘im. Me and your Mama are behind you all the way.”

And even if Coach gets squicky when it’s time for I love you, Bitty manages to get it out anyhow.

“Love you too, son. Now you gotta stop, or else your mama’s gonna drown me.”

The thick laugh is so much better than crying. Jack thinks so too apparently, squeezing tight while Bitty’s sitting on his thighs.

If he thinks there’s a kiss pressed to the top of his head, well, he’s just going to blame it on being emotionally overwrought and leave it at that.

He didn’t bother with pads, just pants, sweatshirt, gloves, stick, helmet, and skates. The ice is quiet as can be in the morning light bouncing off Faber, making it beautiful.

Kenny’s far enough ahead of them that he’s on a break from practice, already home making brunch. “Big Red is going to be killer, B. Cornell is ruthless. Fighting Hawks from North Dakota.”

His skates cut through the ice until he’s gliding, hitting the long stretch, pumping as fast as his legs can take him, cycling the puck.

He doesn’t reply to Kenny, just listens while his muscles burn, his mind works, he sees the next move like a playbook.

Over the past four years, he’s gotten stronger, faster. Sure, he’s smaller than the average hockey player, but that don’t mean weak. Everyone they’ve played already figured that one out now didn’t they?

His arms and shoulders burn when he swings high, throws some muscle in it when he slaps the puck right in the sweet spot of the net.

“No fair, B. I want to watch!”

“I’d have to set my phone in the stands, sugar pie.”

“If that means I get to watch you do suicides, I’m on board.”

Bitty laughs out loud because Lord, he sounds like Jack.

“Trying to kill me before practice?”

“Captain’s prerogative, babe.”

Obligingly, Bitty sets up his helmet, laying on it’s side, throws a t-shirt in it to hold the phone up, and FaceTimes Kenny.

He gives the captain of the Aces a wink and then takes off to the blue line. He’s got his game face on, stick balanced perfectly, moving like his ass is on fire.

After a good turn out, he skates back to the stands where Kenny is very close to the screen.

“Well, there you go, Captain,” he snickers, scooping up the whole thing so Kent goes around the rink for some easy, cool-down laps with him before the boys start meandering in for practice. “That what you wanted to see?”

“You? Are fast, B. That was incredible.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” he grins down at Kent’s face in his helmet, “you say the nicest things.”

“Hey, I’m not being nice, Bits. I’m saying as a professional hockey player that you? Are fast.”

“Well, so are you. Short guys like us have a tendency to out-maneuver the big guys.”

“I’ve based most of my career on being the fast guy on the team, B, but I don’t know how I’d hold up against you.”

“Mmhm. I also haven’t been playing professionally for the last few years, tearing the fire out of my knee, Kent.” Very serious because he’s counted how many nights he’s seen ice bags over that knee in the last few weeks.

“Also true. It might be surgery for me this summer, but that should do a lot. I’ll have maybe ten years instead of five.”

“So you said. Your doctor is talking about it again?”

“...yeah. He says it should do wonders for where I’m at right now, and this might be the year to just do it and get it over with.”

“Three-time Stanley Cup winner is where you’re at right now, sugar pie.”

The laugh is nice, but now he’s wondering if he can convince Kenny to come to Providence and stay with Jack during his recovery. That’ll let Bitty be close enough to come over and take care of him while his knee heals. He’s already thinking it over when his third lap is coming up.

“B.” Startles him right out of his thoughts.

“Kenny?”

And something is there in the way Kenny is looking at him from the screen. “Be careful at the game tonight. Watch out for the Minnesota D-Men, okay?”

“Thank-you, sugar. You watch on out for those Rangers.”

“I will. Just send me a text when the game is over, even if I’m in overtime, okay?”

“You know it, honey. Now go on and get a nap. We’ve both got a busy night tonight.”

This could be the last time he steps out on the ice. This could be it. All of it could end right here right now.

They’ve got to play their hearts out. He’s got to give it everything he’s got. For himself, for the boys, for Samwell.

It comes down to this, facing Minnesota’s line like there ain’t no going back.

He sits on his bed, faggot and fairy in his head from the game earlier. He doesn’t accept Jack’s call because his face is a mess.

Well, serves him right because Jack just shows up at the Haus an hour later when Bitty has finally got it together.

The check is absolutely brutal.

He used to be floored by it, curled up in a little ball on the ice, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely breathe.

But not this damn time. Oh hell no.

It’s fast when he’s back up on his feet, shoving his way through bigger men than him and stealing that puck right on out from under them.

He feels like he’s got wings on his feet when he glides by them like they’re just standing still.

Mama and Coach are here because they’ve come down to the last stand.

This is it.

Jack and Kenny are both there and where in the world they got #15 Bittle jerseys, he will never know.

Number #82 has already been gunning for him, but the last one is the very last of Eric Bittle’s patience running right on out.

His heart is racing, his legs burning, skates cutting ice as he steers around players, gritting his teeth against the ache, and for the first time, he’s gonna stand up, holler out that no, he’s not gonna take that nonsense lying down.

The moment slows down for long enough that he feels weightless when he pushes off, is airborn, shoving all his weight right into #82 just as they’re at the Samwell bench and shove the both of them right in with the boys.

It’s a tangle of arms and legs and skates and sputtering.

“Try me again, asshole,” Bitty sneers in #82’s face with the face guards the only thing between them.

“Homophobic prick!” One of his boys shouts.

Coach and the boys pick him up (shocked because he doesn’t usually have a need for potty mouth thank-you very much), want him to go get checked out while the ref blows the whistle just after Whiskey gets the puck, and now it’s all on Samwell.

He doesn’t get a penalty, thank goodness, and argues loudly with Coach to let him back in the game, he needs to get back. It’s not like he lost a tooth, just some scratches from going over. It’s a long look in his eyes before Coach just throws up his hands and shoos him back.

And Bitty’s not thinking about Jack and Kenny and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster and Mama and Daddy and everyone else up in those stands screaming for them when he hits the ice again. He’s not thinking about how badly he hurts or the scratches on his face. He’s not thinking about his thesis or graduation or his spot in Jack’s guest room.

He’s only thinking about the tied score, the next play, and how they’re going to show these away boys exactly who’s house this is.

And his arms strain when his stick comes back, when he slams that puck with every ounce of strength he has left. His heart thuds hard in the back of his mouth when their goalie’s hand shoots out, tries to catch the puck, just the tips of his gloves skimming the surface.

The alarm blares and the scoreboard changes so fast, Bitty’s not really sure what happened until his boys slam into him, gather all around him, screaming.

He’s dazed, fingers limply holding his stick, eyes still stuck on the scoreboard even when they lift him up, stick and all.

The crowd takes to the ice, and he gets his helmet off in time to get hugs from Mama and Coach, in time to accept the huge trophy, him and Coach and Dex holding it up with all the boys around them just a hooting and a hollering all over the place.

Ransom and Holster catch him right up off his feet, crying all over him when they tell him how proud they are.

The interviews shake him out of the daze and he tells the viewers at home that the team fought hard for this and earned it all themselves. He’s proud to be their teammate and captain, he’s proud to be a Wellie, and darn it, their hard work paid off.

Just as he turns, sees Chowder going past with three of their guys behind him, singing the Samwell song at the top of their lungs, he catches Jack and Kenny standing on the ice by the boards, watching him with soft smiles on their faces, and his eyes get hot abruptly, get full as can be.

Center ice, just like with the Stanley Cup. And this ain’t that now. This? This one is all his.

He feels his lower lip tremble just a little, puts his hand up to stop it, but dang it if Jack and Kenny aren’t just easing across the ice toward him with those smiles and his name across the back of their shoulders.

He gets a hand on the back of his neck and a shoulder to hide his face while the whooping and celebrating gets loud, loud, loud.

Lord, he’s going to vlog the hell out of this tomorrow.

Shitty is naked.

While it’s not new (they’ve been to Haus 2.0, and yes, Shitty was naked there too. Good times, really), Bitty has always had reservations about him being skin-to-fabric on that dang couch. Who knows what he might get. Well, all that spilled tub juice probably goes a long way to sanitize. Or so he says to keep his revolution to a minimum.

Watching Kenny get his ass handed to him from Lardo is hilarious. Watching Jack give in and have a chugging competition is even better.

He’s lucky the ECAC playoffs beat the NHL by almost a month. Jack and Kenny have another week before they start getting serious.

Ransom and Holster are talking animatedly with the Waffles, back slaps all around. He’s pleased as can be when Shruti, Sharon, Edgar, Chad L., and some other captains drop by to say congratulations and have a piece of pie. He doesn’t see Jack pause over his shoulder while he talks up a storm, doesn’t see the considering look on Jack’s face.

Something about this Bitty hits him harder than the last four years, makes that perpetual tightness in his chest mean something completely different than anxiety.

He should have realized it long before his graduation, should have been terrified of it all happening again.

Bitty affects him in so many of the same ways Kenny does, and it’s an amazing yet terrifying thing for Jack Zimmermann. Feeling like this person you’re looking at is literally made for you.

And just as he starts taking a step forward, pushing himself in to stand at Bitty’s side like he’s done the majority of their friendship, Kenny ducks out of nowhere and takes him by both biceps. His expression is desperate.

“You’ve got to stop her. Zimms. Zimms, be on my team. Right now.”

It’s so absurd because it’s Kenny and also because he knows no one is beating Lardo.

Ever.

Anything else is wishful thinking.

He casts a wistful look at Bitty, animated with his big win, and if Jack literally has his heart in his eyes until they’re out of sight, then only Chad L. from would have seen it.

Later on after the captains have said good night and some of their...guests have started staggering out, cheering for Samwell, for hockey, for tub juice, and for pie.

For this one, Bits really couldn’t take credit because Dex really made most of them, bless his heart.

Moving around the party-goers with a spare trash bag to pick up a bit, he spots someone sneaking upstairs, pauses to squint up in case he needs to charge on up there and firmly remind people the upstairs is off limits.

Or break out the fire extinguisher.

Either way.

...but he knows that ass in those jeans, and gasps softly as Jack’s plaid is bouncing up the steps ahead of Kenny.

And, he can let out a sigh, catch just a little bit of bittersweet. But, if there is anything Eric Richard Bittle prides himself on, it’s being a good friend. If Jack and Kenny needed a-a wingman or whatever, then he’s just going to dang well be that.

He keeps an eye on the stairs for the rest of the night for more than one reason. No one, no one, is going to disturb them when they’ve finally come this far, and even if he silently dreads it, hopes they at least used his room instead of a bathroom for heaven’s sake.

#check!please #wip #pimbits #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #kent parson #i'm going to hell #but i love this southern child #canon divergence #what if #that kiss at Jack's graduation didn't happen #but still #AHL!Bitty #eric x jack x kent #will eventually happen #work in progress #don't judge me #my fic #My writing

24 notes · View notes