#like i always just felt like my face never worked for the charas i wanted to portray and so thats why i say with a heavy heart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blackwolfstabs · 5 months

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If you're ever low on ideas and comfortable with it, I've had this idea which means a lot to me that I'd love see you put into your own words one day.

Basically, some time after Scream VI, Chad and Tara try to work themselves up to doing the deed (no outright smut or explicit stuff though pretty please, not the point here), and Tara totally freaks out when she can't bring herself to take off her clothes and show all her scars to another person. While I wouldn't expect Chad to really care about his, I'd always thought this would be an issue for Tara considering how much she wants to feel normal after everything that happened to her. As someone who still has visual reminders of a prior major surgery, I can speak from experience that feeling like you're less beautiful or desirable because of that is a really terrible thought. I can totally picture Tara feeling all the nervous butterflies about the sacred occasion of losing her virginity only to realize the scars from her snapped leg and all the stabby stabbies, everything she's trying to forget, are never going away. Feel free to experiment with how they'd react to and handle this situation, it was just a fleeting idea, but I think it could be something really sweet.

P.S.: You're like the only writer I know of that appreciates Chara and I just wanted to thank you for that because I adore them sooo much lol, they don't get enough love.

aww it's all my pleasure, dear anon. i hope i do your idea justice! 🫡

here you go:

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IF YOU LOVE HER

Drawing stars around Tara's scars.

fandom: Scream pairing: Tara Carpenter × Chad Meeks-Martin characters: Tara Carpenter & Chad Meeks-Martin a/n: i love this idea sm and i actually got really into it so my apologies if i went too deep or made it too long. you've got good taste, my friend :)

───────────────────────────

“Are you sure?” Chad whispered, his forehead locked with Tara’s as they blinked into each other’s chocolate eyes.

Tara nodded, not breaking her eye-contact, even though she was trembling. She loved Chad, she did, and if anyone was going to take her virginity, she wanted it to be him. It’d be safe with him, for she was sure he loved her just the same. They had been through so much together. She couldn’t ask for a better partner. “Yeah,” she breathed, “I want to…”

In the privacy of his half-lit bedroom, he nodded and removed his shirt, letting her take the lead as she gently pushed him down onto his bed. She climbed on top of him, her legs straddling him to lean down and capture his lips.

Tara melted into her boyfriend quickly, pulled in by the serene essence of the night and his love. She felt his hand slide over the small of her back and move towards her hip, while she trailed her fingers down his right pec to his rib cage. Her fingertips curled into his ribs as his own slipped beneath the band of her pants.

They parted, but Chad kept his digits beneath the hem. He eased them a little farther to have the tips meet her underwear. She shuddered with a small gasp, instinctively dropping her pelvis as if to stop him from going any further. His face must’ve changed a little to show some concern, because she quickly looked away.

“I-I’m sorry…” She grew shy as she hesitated on where to look.

“Is that too far?” he quizzed, retreating his hand a little bit.

“No, it’s fine, I just…”

“Would you rather do it?” He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear to catch a better glimpse of her face.

She took a deep breath, before gathering up the courage to look him in the eyes again. “No. I trust you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “Okay…” He turned his face to the side to kiss the arm she still had bordering his head. She then resumed her former position again, and he decided to take a different approach. “We’ll do this first.” He moved his hand away from her bottoms and eased her shirt up, until he met her bra-line.

Carpenter braced herself against the fresh air that corralled the newly exposed skin of her torso. She knew the build-up to giving her virginity away was supposed to be nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing, but she knew that the intensity she felt growing in the pit of her stomach was of a different essence. However, she had to keep herself together. This was the hard part. After everything was off and out of the way, there was no going-back and hopefully, she would be immersed into a world of love and not rejection. That’s how sex went, right? It was captivating and a rather surreal experience? Guess she was going to find out. But she had to stay strong to get there, so she ducked her face into the crook of Chad’s neck to try and compose herself.

Her boyfriend breathed in her warm scent, leaning his head against hers as he wrapped his arm around the bare portion of her back with one arm and used the other to tug her pants down a little bit. He heard her give a small whimper, to which he kissed her shoulder. “There’s nothing to be scared of, Tara,” he assured her, “I got you.”

She felt his nose brush her ear lobe as he said this, his breath tickling her neck. As safe as she felt in his arms, she couldn’t manage to make any words and instead, just nudged his jawline in a nod. She was wearing high-waisted pants that were steadily pulled to a mid-rise and then a low-rise as Chad edged them further down her hips.

Her heart skipped a beat, jumping into a race that made her nearly start to panic. His other arm brushed her spine, forearm pressing through her bra to leave his fingers closing around her ribs. She shut her eyes tightly and pressed her lips to his neck, forcing herself to focus on softly suckling his skin to fight herself from changing her mind.

Below her, Meeks-Martin heard a shuddering breath that mimicked her figure. He knew she was anxious about this, especially with how protective her older sister was and how inhumanely her body had been handled before. That was why he let her be on top for her first time. Both of her Ghostface attacks—which had left her with trauma she still re-lived—ended with her pinned beneath her attacker. He was well aware of what having her take the submissive position might do. The hand that held her ribcage slid down the curve of her flank, finding new territory that hadn’t been explored from the coverage of her pants.

His girlfriend accidentally traded her lips for her teeth, biting down on his sternocleidomastoid muscle. It was a fearful kind of nip, so it wasn’t necessarily painful, but it had caused him to pull one hand away from her hips and caress the side of her head.

“Easy, babe… Just breathe. I won’t hurt you…”

She swallowed uneasily, wanting to say something to assure him but also defend herself at the same time. She didn’t know what to do. However, when his fingers found the scars hidden on her lower abdomen and his arm pressed into the ones littering her lower back, she couldn’t take it. Every hurtful thought she could hold against her self-worth felt like a knife stabbing through her survivor’s tattoos again to emphasize the damage they did. Tears filled her eyes, and she didn’t even think twice as she pulled away. “I can’t!”

Chad sat up when she got off of him, finding her tugging her clothing back to their proper wear and hearing her breath hitch as she bowed her head in shame.

Tara’s chest went extremely tight as she broke down, eyes burning and butterflies swarming her stomach at the anxiety that cursed her yet again. But this time was different. She hated doing this to Chad, because he didn’t deserve it. “I–I’m sorry, Chad…”

“For what?” He moved to sit beside her. “What is it?”

More tears fell, seeming to grow thicker the longer she stared at her legs, which were clenched together. She felt his hand rub small circles on her back, but that just made her grow even more tense. Her initial reply was replaced with a sob that had her whole body jolting.

“Hey, hey, hey…” His concern grew, once she broke down completely, a few whimpers coming through her sobs as she covered her face with one hand and hugged her torso with the other. He got down on the floor to kneel in front of her, reaching up to brush her hair back. “It’s okay, Tara, it’s alright—”

“I ca-han’t do it, Chad!” she cut him off, only able to compose herself enough to get the shortest explanation she could out. “I-hit’s so uh-hugly!”

He paused his combing. “What’s ugly?”

Carpenter cringed inward on herself, clutching the flank of her shirt so tight that her knuckles turned white. She pulled her knees up to hug them with her other arm, hiding her face in the small space between her thighs and torso. “M-my scars…” She spit it out around her accumulating congestion.

Chad’s eyes immediately fell to the arm that curled around her legs, how her hand reached to the side that he couldn’t see. It was the hand that had that long scar gifted from self-defense against Ghostface—her first attack. What a reminder… What a memory…

What a tragedy…

The exact one that had him view her like she was the strongest person in the world, even though she was the smallest of the family they’ve made. She was the strongest. She had survived being stabbed 7 times, a broken ankle, blood-loss, surgery, a 2nd attack, facing-off with her attacker, suffering heartbreak, and spent another period in the hospital, which she had grown to hate… But after every single fallout, she picked herself back up and kept moving forward.

Tara Carpenter was the living proof and definition of a survivor.

And Chad Meeks-Martin was in love with her.

She wasn’t second-best or his chosen one, due to their share of trauma. He started falling from the first day they met all those years ago, when they were too young and naive to understand what love was, what pain was, what trauma was, and all of the things that divided them. Tara’s home-life started to go downhill around the same time he was getting serious into football, so he wasn’t around her much anymore. Being a jock came with many things that kept him present in his future yet absent in his past. And sadly, Tara was one of those things—those precious things that he had unknowingly been driven away from. Liv came along, and they hit it off for a while, but when Tara was attacked, it all changed.

He didn’t care if she had scars. He didn’t care if she was too scared to let him in. He didn’t care if she pushed him away and screamed at him to leave. He’d wait on her forever. He didn’t see her scars, when he looked at her. He saw his angel—the one he swore he’d never see living, in-person, and in his reach. Yet, she was. And had she not endured it all, he might have never gotten that privilege.

As she continued to cry, Chad spoke to her softly and sincerely. “No, they’re not. Tara, there’s nothing ugly about you—”

However, she denied him. “Yes, they– Chad, I’m hideous…”

She was convinced. Her scars were curses, hidden beneath her clothes to fool anyone that might actually want her. Anyone who might desire her. But she wasn’t desirable. One look at the marks giving her stomach, back, and legs an abstract design and anyone with a decent taste would turn away. She was destroyed, wasted, used, and corrupted. How could she be beautiful? How could she move on when every time she changed clothes, or took a shower, or wore anything but high-waisted jeans or pants reminded her of how defenseless, weak, and exposed she was? How alone she was… and that loneliness created a masterpiece that only the artist could admire. It must be hidden from the rest of the world or else it would leave others feeling sick and appalled.

Because she wasn’t supposed to be a piece of art. She was supposed to be dead.

Who could ever love her intimately when she was literally a human pincushion?

Chad could. And he did.

“Tara,” his voice was a little stronger this time. He slipped his hand onto her thigh and encouraged her to lower her legs. “Tara…” Luckily, she did lower her legs, but both arms held herself tightly and she hesitated to look up. “Hey…”

Tara sniffled and wiped her nose, before raising her eyes enough to look at him. And of all things… he smiled at her.

“Stop, that isn’t true,” he told her. His eyes shimmered in the low lighting. “I’ve never met someone more beautiful than you. Your scars aren’t ugly. They don’t change who you are. I promise you, one day, you’re gonna look at every single one of those scars as a reminder of how strong you are.” Her soulful eyes just blinked at him, glossy as more tears slid down her cheeks. He wiped them away. “You’re so strong, babe.”

In that moment, she swallowed, staring at him as she recalled those traumatic memories. The phone calls, the teases, the taunts, the stabbing, the crawling, the begging, the screaming… Those things didn’t make her feel strong at all. They were demeaning and humiliating. “I don’t feel strong… I’m not fearless, like Sam. I’m not smart, like Mindy. I’m not reliable, like you…”

On the other hand, all her boyfriend could think about was her smile, her sharp-tongue, and her gorgeous eyes. The way she moved and how she handled everything that came her way. The way she loved him and how healing her existence was to him every day. She was the reason he fought, held on, and kept going. When he had sacrificed himself for her at the kill theater, taking a thousand stabs, while looking at her the whole time, telling her to “go”... he did that because he couldn’t live without her, and because he couldn’t live without her, he held on until he was found by paramedics and was united with her again. Everything she was saying about what she wasn’t couldn’t be more wrong. “You’re a survivor, Tara. You’re Tara Carpenter, and you’re not like other people. You’ve got a will that’s so strong, you’ve managed to look death in the eyes and win… multiple times. And those scars are proof of it.” She was unparalleled to anyone else in this world. “You are you. There’s 7 billion people in this world, and you’re the perfect one for me. What are the odds of that?”

Tara bit her lip. She wanted to believe him. Truly, she did. But she hated all that her body had become, especially when it had to be exposed in situations like these. They weren’t mental scars that time would heal, they were scars that would be there forever. She would never be able to escape what had happened to her, no matter how long she lived or how much she may try to cover them up.

“I love you, Tara.”

Her breath hitched as she sniffled. “I love you too, Chad…” Her next words were barely audible, when they came out. “Thank you…”

Chad just smiled at her. Even with her bloodshot eyes and runny nose, she was flawless. He reached out and took her left hand. His thumb brushed over the long scar tainting the top of it.

She didn’t dare look down, the soft touch making her lips quiver again as more tears threatened to fall.

But then he brought it up to his lips and trailed a line of gentle kisses along the length of the scar, covering the pain it caused her with loving stitches.

Tara watched him do this, then glanced up to his face when he lifted it and guided her hand to rest against his cheek. “Chad…”

“You are so beautiful,” he simply replied. And to his surprise, he received the smallest smile from her, even through her tears. Then, he dropped his eyes to where her right arm guarded her torso. He squeezed her hand a little, “Can I see them?”

She froze, her anxiety climbing again. Her brow twitched, fighting herself to stay where she was and not pull away from him again. He deserved this. He deserved this.

If he loved her…

He did love her. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind. So, she exhaled a shaky breath and nodded, slowly removing her right arm and retreating her left to uncover the sacred tattoos that made her a palette of a million colors, some not even of this world. She held her breath as she tugged the hem of her shirt up with one hand, then pulled her pants down with the other to expose her stomach.

There were two big scars, one just below her left rib cage and the other beneath her navel on the right side. Chad moved to be directly in front of her and was actually allowed to come closer when she opened her legs for him to kneel between them. His hands were soft as he placed them on her warm sides. He felt her shudder, telling him she was still hesitant about revealing her permanent demons. But instead of trying to talk her down again, he bowed his head and pressed his lips against the first scar. Just like he had done with her hand, he moved along its length, stitching up her hurt with his affection.

Tara stiffened at first, her muscles tensing at the feeling of this kind of attention, but then she let go of the breath she was holding back. His lips moved from the left side of her ribs to duck beneath her arm and give the scars he could reach on her back the same treatment. She let him do it. Her head stayed bowed, and she gripped the hem of her shirt, holding it steady against her frame to force herself into this uncomfortable position she knew she could trust. However, she couldn’t stop the tears that continued to fall or the whimpers that slipped out when his kiss would trigger another bad thought.

But her boyfriend never failed to calm her butterflies even if it was only for a moment. As he drew back, he slid his right hand around her back to rub it and continued to do so when he began to kiss the other mark on her lower belly. She breathed in, and he could feel her skin press into his lips.

She was starting to calm down. She was starting to trust him.

Then, he took his left hand and traced his fingers down her flank to meet the hem of her pants. He pulled one side off her hip.

Panic. Her heartbeat picked up, leading her to slightly squeeze her legs around him. “N-no, Chad—”

Chad blinked up at her. He didn’t move any further. “I won’t do much. Just wanna see…”

Tara hesitated. She felt her formerly injured leg twinge at the way she had it positioned. Then, she relaxed and helped him tug her pants off all the way. Bare against the air conditioning, it was only instinctive that she wanted to pull her legs up to her chest, however his hand eased up her ankle, along her calf, over her knee, and up her thigh. Her eyes never left his, but she dropped her shirt to rest her wrists over his shoulders, rubbing her fingertips against his thoracic vertebrae.

He ran his hand back down, caressing right at her ankle, where it had been snapped by a devil’s wish.

How that scream had ripped her throat… It was so painful… Tara swore it had been so guttural that, had she not passed out, she would’ve spit up blood on the way to the hospital.

Chad held it in his hand, rubbing it with gentle squeezes in between. And as he gazed at her, he saw her lips start to upturn. Then, her leg flinched, trying to pull away from his hold. He knew why, and it made him smile back at her, relieved that she was no longer anxious and fearful of being exposed to him. “Do you trust me?” he asked this as he glided his hand back up her leg to rest on her hip, bringing himself closer to her.

Carpenter nodded instantly, though her voice was still soft. “Yeah…” She blinked as he wiped stray tears from her cheeks.

Then they joined at the lips, taking a moment to melt into each other’s comfort. But it wasn’t too long, for the congestion that blocked Tara’s airways from crying cut it short.

Chad grazed his knuckles along Tara’s jawline, watching her eyes close at the touch. “I think you should get some rest for tonight, okay?”

Her eyelids parted and slowly raised.

“We can try again tomorrow.”

She nodded with a small sigh.

Tomorrow was another day…

Another day she’d survive.

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p.s. i'm sorry this took a while, anon.. i hope you're still around! ♡

- parker (BWS)

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caretaker-au · 1 year

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you’re probably offline again, and I don’t know if anyone is gonna see this. but your au is genuinely one of my most favorite Undertale AUs ever. I have been in the Undertale fandom for a LONG time, but I don’t think there will ever be something as well written as the Caretaker AU again. the amount of research and love put into it is so cool. it truly does feel like something that could possibly happen in the actual canon and I LOVE it.

your version of Chara is also one of the most best portrayals of them I’ve EVER seen in the entire history of the fandom. when you began releasing the final chapters for the AU, I remember just sitting at my computer and rereading Chara’s lines over and over again. because their character was just so interesting to see in action. even when it was still a comic, their goddamn expressions and words are just so memorable to me. I still and always will have that little sadistic smile ingrained in my brain. (that also includes literally every character in comic even the background ones.) I love how you handle Chara as well, how you made them a horrible person but not totally unrealistic. like that one asker said, you feel bad for them, but just a LITTLE TINY bit. because they always screw up everything for themself and then go blame a 12 year old for it.

speaking of Frisk, your portrayal of them is definitely so very canon to me. I love their design and personality so much. they are so just relatable too, possibly one of the most realistic 12 year olds I’ve seen in a comic. they remind me a lot of me in a way, especially when I was 12 lol. I’m beyond happy they got a happy ending, they deserve it after, y’know, everything.

I wish you all luck on any other projects you may be working on. and I hope you are proud of what you have accomplished. :) you crafted a truly beautiful story. now if you don’t mind me, I’m just going to go reread everything again.

(take a shot every time I say ever lol, sorry for any spelling mistakes, thank you for reading it all)

Thank you so much for your kind words. Caretaker truly was a huge labor of love. I remember back when Ellipsis came up with the concept how it just gripped me like a bear trap. I couldn't stop thinking about it! Eruto felt the same way and was saying we should make a comic, and I was like, "no no, I don't want to do all that line art" but then she was like, you won't be alone we can draw it TOGETHER and then to demonstrate she took one of my super rough sketches and lined and colored it. And I was like, wow okay maybe this is feasible.

The resulting 3-ish years it felt like we were spending every waking hour working on Caretaker. I carried my sketchbook everywhere and would draw out thumbnails during my breaks at work, I'd be thinking about it on the drive home, and then we'd get on a discord call together to draw, line, and color for hours at a time. I could go on but the bottom line is that I LOVED IT. Each finished page (drawn or written!) fills me with pride and I look back fondly on the time spent creating and maintaining this blog together. It was exciting, compelling, and at many times exhausting, but worth it.

As far as the characterization goes, glad that you appreciate it! We reminded ourselves to never lose sight of the fact that Chara was still a human being--full of contradictions and ego and multiple-facets--but we didn't want to justify their behavior either. We all know people who are selfish, manipulative, and arrogant, but what happens when a person like that gets naïve enablement and never has to face any repercussions for their behavior? Without the correcting force that is LIFE, a cynical, angry, cruel child like Chara didn't have any reason to second-guess their worldview. Of course anything that goes wrong must be the fault of someone else!

This has already gotten kinda long, so all I'll say on Frisk is thank you and glad you agree! Personally, I knew some friends of the family who had kids about that age so I tried to reference their behavior in my mind when it came to writing Frisk. (Though most of Frisk's behaviors boil down to "RUN!!") Through the many discussions and occasional rewrites of this story, we always planned on ensuring Frisk had a happy ending. ♥

Thanks once again for the ask, and I hope you enjoy the reread!

#mailbox #spade-the-space-witch #minty says #you caught me online!

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miezmiau-animations · 2 years

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Authors note:

So I've noticed that @papara-week reblogged my posts. And I'm really thankful for that!

But they got the days wrong. The tags always describe the day from before.

Because you see, I already posted a day before the week even started. I needed that extra chapter to start the story. With it I could include the tags better.

And the numbers on the pictures is for the chapters, not the day.

From now on there will also be split up chapters which will come in parts. I hope you understand that. ^^"

Warning:

This story contains blood, body horror, violence and curses. You have been warned.

Chapter 4, Part 1:

Good Nightmare

It was another busy night in the restaurant. People were chatting, eating and having fun. Everything seemed normal.

But who dared to look deeper, could see how angry the staff was. Angry at a man, serving the customers.

Papyrus could feel their stares on his back. It felt cold and the feeling burned itself down his spine.

But he had to ignore it. Work was his priority at this very moment. So he walked over to the next table.

There was a couple already waiting for him. A rich looking man and a woman, which looked more like a doll than a human.

"Good evening," he said with a soft smile. "May I take your orders?"

But the orders never came.

"I'm not here for food, you fool. I'm here for business. Here," he said, as he gave Papyrus an envelope. "Take this to your boss. And better make it quick, will you?"

Oh he really didn't like the tone of this guy. But very well. He'd play along for now.

"Of course, Sir. Anything else, before I go?"

He looked at the lady to his right. Her stare seemed distant and her eyes dull. It reminded him a little bit of Chara.

His little princess.

He wondered how she was doing. They haven't seen each other for weeks now.

Would she still want to see him, he wondered. Or did she grow tired already?

He couldn't blame her if she did.

"No, don't ask me even more questions, you good-for-nothing!" the rich guy responded angrily. "Just get going already!"

"Alright, Sir. Have a wonderful night then."

And hopefully I will never see your ugly face again, he thought.

With the envelope in his hands, he headed over to the kitchen. The chefs were all staring at him but he ignored it.

Nobody seemed to like him anymore.

He headed for another door and then a staircase. With each step, he held his breath more.

He just hoped his don wouldn't get mad. He hasn't talked to him in a while… And there was no new mission so far.

A rather bad sign.

At the end of the stairs, he reached a big, wooden door. It was black, but decorated with little carvings and gold ornaments. Quite the luxus, for a hole in the wall with a few planks over it.

Careful, he knocked on it.

Inside the room, you couldn't hear a sound. It was so silent, he could hear his own soul beating faster by the second.

"Who's there?" asked a deep, strong voice.

"It's me, Marcello. May I come in?"

With that, he could hear a chair moving and loud, heavy footsteps approaching the door. He held his breath. The door opened. And before him stood a tall, pig-like man.

But there was something weird about this. He had a big smile on his face.

Wasn't he angry?

"Mio figlio! You have returned, my boy!"

Before Papyrus could even react, Marcello swept him up into a big bear-hug.

"Papyrus! I really did miss you!"

"M-marcello-"

"Oh! That's right."

He let go of the now rather tiny looking skeleton, which had to catch its breath.

"You can't even breathe a little, once I lift you! Hahaha!"

He found it amusing. Well at least that meant there were no bad news.

"Come on in, figlio. There is a lot to discuss for us!"

Was there? Oh, maybe things actually would get complicated.

His don guided him to take a seat. He obeyed and waited patiently for his boss to sit down.

"So tell me, Papyrus. Why did you do it?" he now asked with a more serious tone.

He swallowed. Guess there was no point in lying now.

"When I talked to her father… Asgore... He was being so cold. He didn't even care anymore!"

"What do you mean by that, figlio?"

"He… he just shrugged and told me that he'd start preparing the funeral! Like it wouldn't be anything important! His own daughter and..."

The skeleton gritted his teeth.

He was so angry at this man. Asgore didn't deserve Chara at all! She was so fragile in his eyes. Like a bird with broken wings. And this man put a cage around her. Using her, for his own good.

He has seen her broken smile so often. How close she always stood to an edge. Like her life didn't matter anymore.

And it seemed like it didn't matter either to her father.

He'd rather swap her out with some dolled up city girl to market his company. If it wouldn't break Charas heart more, he would have ripped that mens throat right out of his body.

"I was so angry, Marcello. So, so angry. But instead of ending him, I… I brought the doctors the cure without any payment. I couldn't bear the thought of her… I'm sorry. I just…"

Was his face this wet the entire time? He lifted one of his hands.

When did he start crying?

Was it out of anger?

Or frustration?

"No, my boy. I think I understand."

Softly, he patted Papyrus' shoulder. The skeleton looked up to the taller monster. Tears were still streaming down his face.

"Feelings are difficult. Sometimes we fall in the depths of our soul, without wanting to. But sometimes we rise above ourselves and everyone else to regain a certain emotion," he told him, reassuring. "The others are angry at you, Papyrus. Because the deal did not work out. Because money was lost."

A smile returned to the bigger monster's features.

"But I'm not mad. No, I'm proud."

"Proud...?"

What? But he ruined a good deal. Like he said, a lot of money!

"You could have let that girl die. But you knew she was a victim of her father. Just a tool for us to get his money. And a tool for him to earn his. I think I understand the way you feel."

He was like a father. Somebody that finally cared. That gave him shelter and a home. Work. Food. Money. The things he needed so bad back then. And now even empathy for his twisted mindset.

"Grazie, padre," Papyrus whispered, with a returning smile. He closed his eyes and let the moment wash over him. It was nice to just be here and talk.

"Now, figlio. What is your reason to be here?"

Oh. He already forgot about that.

Careful, he gave Marcello the letter.

"The man that gave me this, is still waiting downstairs. I could get him for you, If you want me to."

"No need, my boy. I know what this letter is about. Tell him, I will meet him later at the old church, alright? Oh, and please take the next day off. I think you need a break."

A day off? That was new. He never even thought about taking a break. But he was so emotional unstable at the moment... So he would gladly take it.

"Thank you, Marcello! I will. But make sure you'll take a break as well, alright?"

"Will do, figlio. Will do."

After they said their farewell, he stood up and returned to the exit. Gentle, he closed the big, black door.

Marcello smiled, to a photograph on his desk.

"Oh, Il mio amore. He really found love."

And the woman in the picture smiled back.

THANK YOU FOR READING PART 1 OF CHAPTER 4!

Marcello turned out to be one of my favorite side characters. He just kind of adopted Papyrus as he started working for him.

Just to ease some confusion:

figlio = son

padre = father

mio amore = my love (a beloved person)

I need to write more of these two. Their vibe just gives me so much life. Wholesome, himbo dad and struggling son. <3

HAPPY SHIPPING ^^

#undertale #papyrus #chara #papyrus undertale #papyrus x chara #papara #miezes oc's #miezes storys #charus #papara week #paparaweek #paparaweek2022 #poison fic #female chara #hero and villain au #himbo dad <3 #day 3 of papara week

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spidernana · 3 years

Text

Day 4: Tired

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34214341/chapters/85306531

Some days it was good to be a basically invisible, ephemeral being. It came in handy when snatching things out of unsuspecting monsters' pockets, drawing on people's faces while they slept, and sticking gum in obnoxious do-gooders' hair.

Chara still hadn't forgiven her for that one... heheh.

But some days, Frisk was convinced that it was the hardest thing in the universe. Those days were ones like these, when her absent-minded floating around the chimney tops in Snowdin Village (not any one in particular... the skeleton brothers' just happened to have a great view over the forest) was interrupted by a louder than usual slam of the front door, so hard the windows shook in their frames and several drifts of snow slid from the roof and to the ground below.

Couldn't have been Papyrus... she'd seen the lanky layabout slouching off towards Waterfall with Chara hours ago. They'd be sure to be gone til the night cycle, at the very least... Chara loved to watch the crystals in the dark, and her skeletal bone-friend loved to distract her from them as best as possible.

Tsk.

So it was Sans... and he was in a mood.

Not that that was an unusual event. Sans always seemed to be in a mood, ranging from gloating giddiness to tempestuous rage, and liked to inflict his varying tempers on everyone in his vicinity. On top of that, his personality was overwhelming and electrifying, despite his stature, so it was nearly impossible to even pretend to ignore him, he was just too magnetic for that.

You could say that she, in particular, need not play party to the older skeleton monster's vacillating moods... he should, among all others besides Chara, not even know she existed. And yet she tossed away a scrap of paper she had been reading, an advertisement of some sort for a fortune-telling monster bearing an evil grin and three eyes, drifted through the roof of the large, two-story house, through a dusty and disused attic chock full of lovingly packed boxes of photographs and baby monster toys (he had been a very doting older brother, while raising Papyrus... she'd looked over nearly every one of the pictures in her boredom), and through the ceiling of the room where she was certain Sans had stormed off to anyway, because despite all logic, despite her shock and trepidation over the fact... Sans could see her. He always had been able to, from the moment he spotted her hanging around behind Chara's shoulder, that first day on the snowy roads in the forest.

She didn't understand it... she'd been dead, and long forgotten, surely, by just about every monster in the Underground. The taste of that fact was a bitter one, one that had, at first, brought to life a vengeful hatred... but Chara's kind heart, and Sans' ability to see and speak with her (whether he wanted to or not; she'd hung around him almost incessantly since she'd discovered his ability, despite his explicit and violent demands that she be gone), had stilled her vengeance, and awoken something she hadn't felt in ages gone.

Curiosity.

This was what brought her to the captain of the Royal Guard's bedroom late in the evening, peeking through the plaster and paint cautiously to ensure he wasn't... busy (neither spoke of the time she had found him occupied, for lack of a better term... though she thought of it, on occasion), and found the skeleton monster, oddly still wearing his armor, collapsed face first on his extravagant and lusciously made-up bed. All the blacks and reds blended in so well that she nearly didn't spot him lying there, and wouldn't have but for the long and weary groan he let out, muffled by the pillow he seemed to be hugging.

The mischievous grin that had grown across her face, in anticipation of annoying the prickly monster further, vanished as she watched him hug the pillow to himself tighter, the plates of his armor catching the light of the one lamp he had bothered to turn on.

This wasn't like him at all. Something was wrong.

Slowly, so slowly that she almost felt silly for doing it (it's not as though her movements made any sound... she just had the strangest inclination not to disturb him ), Frisk glided down from the ceiling to the floor, to dither uselessly at his bedside. The crack slowly but surely marching its way over the top of his skull seemed to grin at her, from this angle, mocking her inability to help anyone now, and for a moment, a long, silent moment that carried and echoed and stung, she considered just leaving again. He'd never appreciated her presence, not really... she liked to hang around just to get a rise out of him, honestly, and he was always willing to give her that.

But now... there was no desire to pester him now, and in the lack of her usual occupation, she was uncertain of what to do. She could offer him little comfort... that sort of thing was outside her wheelhouse. Should she go to Waterfall, and tell Chara that her best friend was in need of her company (more than the mutt, at least...)? Maybe she could-

“If you are here to mock me, princess, I would like for you to get on with it and leave me. I am not in the mood for much more distress than I've already dealt with today.”

Frisk jolted, any remaining fragments of a soul she still had nearly leaping from her ghostly chest. Sans hadn't moved from his position, face still buried in his pillow and legs curled nearly up against his chest, but had somehow known she was there.

Another curiosity...

“I'm... I'm not gonna do that today,” she managed to whisper, once her shock had settled, and sat on the edge of the bed, as near to him as she felt she could without upsetting him further. For a monster his age, and an unmated one at that, Sans was rigorously insistent on propriety, and had nearly shouted himself hoarse the first time she'd welcomed herself into his bedroom, despite the fact that she was all but literally a ghost. He'd given up that fight awhile ago, after she'd made it clear she didn't intend to listen to him on that account, but she did allow him the space he insisted two unmated people required between them.

Not that her touching him would do anything. No one had ever felt it when she'd tried to make contact with them before... she had the ability to touch and manipulate inanimate objects, but had never been able to exert her will enough to affect anything living.

Maybe if she touched their souls... but that was another thing entirely. Off-limits. Taboo, and akin to possession, more than likely.

She was getting lost in her thoughts again. Damnit.

When she withdrew from her own, slightly see-through head, it was to face the monster she had sat beside head on, his cracked and narrowed sockets, lit with fiery pinpricks of scarlet magic, watching her with clear and disdainful mistrust. It was always such a rush, to know he could see her... Chara could feel her presence and hear her, but Sans was the only one that had ever actually looked at her, after she'd woken up as a spirit.

“You'll forgive my skepticism, considering your proclivity to bother me at every possible moment,” he scoffed, laying his skull on the pillow again but keeping his face turned towards her, and Frisk could only shrug. She had no way to refute that, in all honesty... it was true.

Why did it leave her aching, in the strangest and most impossible way?

“Fair enough. You just... don't seem okay. Are you? ...okay?” she replied, tapping ethereal fingers against a nonexistent knee, and Sans flicked the flecks of light in his sockets over her face, his mistrust lingering for another, tense moment before, alarmingly, he seemed to buckle, the tension in his body falling away. His sockets turned away, to consider his intricately decorated duvet, and his arms clenched more tightly around his pillow, until she could almost hear the cotton within complaining.

“...You are possibly the only person I can tell this to, with full confidence that it will not leave the room,” he murmured, his jaw, lined with sharpened fangs, gritting as he chewed over whatever was going on inside his skull, and Frisk leaned closer, now more than rapt.

Sans sighed, not even glancing up to look at her, and squeezed his sockets shut, as though his words hurt for him to even be able to consider seeing them realized.

“The queen has been facing criticism for giving Chara refuge rather than killing them... and she has decided to blame me for it. All I have heard for the past two weeks have been calls for my head, or at the very least my resignation. I have no intent to back down, and I can more than defend myself, but...” he paused, his words falling away and his expression hardening.

“But I doubt myself. Did I truly have a good reason to spare them? Was I blinded by foolish sentiment? And my brother... would it have been kinder for Chara to die before he knew they were soulmates? Losing her now would kill him, but then... perhaps it would not have. I do not know. And it irks.”

He turned his face away again, pressing it deep within the comforting embrace of his pillow.

“I am weary of it all, princess. More tired than I ever have been,” he murmured, Frisk could only stare at the back of his skull, at a complete loss. She knew her mother could be petty, but this was just disgraceful. Mercy was a new sentiment for most monsters, certainly, but Toriel couldn't really be so cowardly as to throw the only person that stood up for a helpless human amongst literal monsters under the bus.

Well. Maybe she could. She'd been cowardly in much more pressing circumstances too...

Frisk teetered there, for a moment, on the brink of simply leaving him to his difficulty (who was she to give advice? She'd utterly failed where he had succeeded, she had no right or ability-)... before letting out a ghostly sigh of her own. She reached out a hand, from a long dead but still present instinct, to touch the back of his skull comfortingly, knowing full well that he wouldn't feel it but wanting to do something all the same.

“As... as someone that went that road... made decisions that cost monsters their freedom, and someone dear to me their life... I can tell you that you made the best possible choice. Chara deserves to live, and monsters can find another way, rather than through hate. I didn't see it then. But you did. Don't doubt yourself over that, not when you've done more good than anyone,” she muttered quietly, rubbing her thumb over the back of his skull, and then let out a chuckle, shaking her head as she pulled her hand back to her own custody.

“And as gross as it is to see them together... Chara and Papyrus deserve the love they have. I don't think you really believe it would have been better for him to never have felt that way. Not with how much you care about him,” she finished, smiling despite herself, and fell silent when Sans, his armor clanking against itself solidly (that stuff must weight a ton... crap, how strong was he?), sat up and turned to look at her, almost through her, so hard that she felt she shouldn't have said anything at all.

She thought she saw his hand start to rise to touch the back of his skull, for an ironically breathless moment, hope singing through her so quickly and suddenly that it made her ghostly head spin (what...? Why did she want him to be able to feel her so badly?), but he merely adjusted the seating of his armor on his shoulders before folding his arms across his chest and raising his cracked brow.

“Surprisingly insightful, for you. I must say I am impressed,” he snarked, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his fanged mouth, and Frisk rolled her eyes, pushing off the bed and into the air with a crude snort.

“I've got more where that came from too, if you'd ever do more than cuss at me. Don't you know how to talk to a lady?” she sniped, sticking her tongue out at him, and Sans barked out a laugh, smirking fully up at her now.

“Let me know when a lady is present, and I will treat with her appropriately,” he replied cattily, and Frisk, with a huff and a blown raspberry, glided her way up through the ceiling without another word, though, for some reason, their banter had left a warm and permeating glow within her, spreading from her invisible fingertips to her ghostly toes.

She'd seen another side of Sans today... one that had surprised her. Maybe she should try to talk to him more, rather than just pestering him constantly. She could ease back on it...

Heh. Only a little, though.

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

Sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bed, suddenly alone and feeling a little more empty for it, Sans looked, for a moment, at the spot that the ephemeral vision of both loveliness and irritation had sat in only a moment before, and raised a gloved hand to rub at the back of his skull.

As she had spoken to him, words of wisdom that had touched his soul more than he cared to admit, he had felt... something, though he wasn't sure what, glide across the back of his skull. More than a breeze, and less than a caress... could she have touched him?

She was an odd enough being, for a ghost... maybe she was able to. Or maybe she was something else entirely...

He brought his hand back around, rubbing his fingers together and looking at them intently, as though expecting something, some sort of proof, that it had really happened. Of course, nothing was there... but the sudden and aching sensation of disappointment was such that he had to hold his hand to his chest for a moment, thrown by how much such a short and simple meeting had affected him.

Perhaps it was nothing.

...or perhaps it was everything.

#frans #franstober #day 4 #tired #fellswap #flirty flirt #poor sans #works so hard #self doubt

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olivyh · 3 years

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TWST FAMILY HCS PT2) Savanaclaw and Octavinelle

Feel free to tack on your own Hc’s too!!! I love reading what other people think and how their view of the characters and of Twisted Wonderland in general change from person to person!!!

Savanaclaw:

Leona:

-Farena: We already know Leona describes his brother as being carefree and relaxed, but deep under that I think he’s a deeply intelligent man (how can you run a kingdom and be stupid?). He tries his best to make time in his schedule for his wife and child, and even try to get bonding tike with his younger brother (which never works out well). He tries to teach Cheka as much as he can, often giving him little life lessons while they play games. He’s a very kind and straightforward man, often being blunt when he doesn’t mean to. He stands a little taller than Leona, with Orange hair similar to Chekas. He keeps his hair tied out of his face as much as he can.

-Sister-in-law Kingscholar: A strong and confident woman, not afraid to speak her mind when she wants to. She’s blunt and she’d let you know about it. She’s also very kind in her own way, often dragging Leona off and trying to have serious talks with him, which he appreciates but doesn’t show. She adores Cheka and often spoils him without meaning to, and will spoil Leona too (but indirectly in a way similar to Ace’s father’s). Also very intelligent and good at reading people. I think she stands a little shorter than Leona, but she holds herself higher, and he slouches, so it looks as if they’re the same height. She has long yellow hair (again, similar to the ends of Cheka’s) that she often ties back as well.

-Cheka: We already know him, so heres a few Hcs!: He sometimes asks his mother to do his hair the same way as Leona’s, and tries to do everything like him (such as standing like him, trying to deepen his voice to sound like him, throwing sand at various objects in the castle yelling “King’s Roar!!”)

Ruggie:

-Grandma Bucchi: As he said himself, a stern and prideful woman. I think she’d be on the stricter side, having to teach Ruggie how to survive rather than him having to face those hard truths alone. She likely stands a lot shorter, likely 5’0 (sorry to anyone whos that height), than most other beastwomen. She’s a lot physically stronger than she looks, often still trying to pick Ruggie up at his age. She tries to spoil him when she can, trying to make him relax after working and taking over the household chores (which he declines, still cleaning up when she’s not looking- which earns him a smack to the head with a broom). She’s also a prankster, quietly jumping out from corners and scaring Ruggie or one of the other children. I think she feels a lot of regret over seeing Ruggie grow up so fast in the environment that he had, but she’s the proudest grandma ever. Whenever he sends pictures back she boasts to everyone at home (“See that! That’s my grandson’s school! See that there! He plays magift and is one of the best on the team! Look there! He’s got those nice ceremony robes!”), and even boasts about him with what little baby pictures they have (“See him walking at such a young age? Isn’t he so strong?”) Will never stop talking about her grandson, ever.

-Neighborhood kids: I think they’re like little siblings to Ruggie, so I’m adding them. They try to tale over what Ruggie did when he was at home, helping people fix up their houses or entertaining the baby hyenas when their mothers have other things to do. They also leave gifts to Ruggie when he comes back, between little dolls they made, bracelets they thought he’d like, charms, or pretty rocks and leaves. He keeps all of the gifts, no matter how small.

-His mom (bc the poor woman deserves a spot)(Poor meaning unfortunate)(The more i think abt it, both. It means both. Bad time?): I think she looked a lot like him, but with brighter blue eyes than his. She was definitely a prankster at heart, leaving clever traps behind for any poor soul to get stuck in. She was a very hardworker much like her son, taking on any task she could find to help out her mother. I think she’d try to leave as much behind for Ruggie as she could, which would include little notes and scribbles about how she was feeling throughout her pregnancy and how excited she was for him. Ruggie also kept all of those safe and sound, in a small box he keeps in the corner of his room.

(Can you guess who my fav chara is?)

Jack:

-Grandma & Grandpa Howl: A very loving couple, who always make time out of their schedule for their grandchildren, whether it be for school events, emergencies, or if any one of them want to come by and talk. They met when Grandpa Howl got lost and wandered by Grandma Howl’s family’s cabin (which happens to be the one they, and the rest of the family, still live in to this day) and he spent the night. I think they fell in love at first sight :’)

-Mama Howl: A very soft and loving beastwoman who is willing to sacrifice anything for her children. She is often strict, and sometimes a chatterbox, but she always reminds her children to stay safe and that she loves them. She always pats their head or cheek when she walks by, even if she has to reach a little to plant a kiss on Jack’s forehead. I think her hair would be a little darker grey, and she’d definitely be a little more muscular and taller, reaching six ft one when standing straight up. She’d have the same yellow eyes as Jack, and her hair would be cropped shorter due to her still moving around a lot.

-Papa Howl: Very similar to Jack personality and appearance wise. He stands an inch or two shorter than Jack, but is still very muscular due to working around the house and in the woods (chopping wood for the campfire, dragging around tools, carrying three wolf pups at a time in his younger days (only one now wants to be carried, which hurts the poor man’s heart a bit)

-Baby brother Howl: Huffy and a little moody, but a hard worker even if he complains while doing it most of the time. That’s often with his parents, but when he does something with Jack he doesn’t complain a bit. He’s very attached to his older brother, looking up to him for his strength and strong morals. He often compares him to superheroes and star athletes in his mind, but sometimes it slips out, resulting in one very embarrassed wolf boy and another very flattered wolf boy, ignore their wagging tails, it means nothing. I think he stands pretty tall for a preteen, around 5’7-5’8 and growing taller by the day. Same hair and eye color as Jack. Acts like he doesn’t like to play games with his younger sister but will never turn down a game of tag.

-Baby sister Howl: An absolute sweetheart. She just wants the best for her family and will do whatever she can to make what they want happen. Jack is hungry? Good thing she made her special dessert (it’s a poptart with whipped cream messily piled on top with sprinkles and literal sugar cubed wedged in it, but don’t tell her you don’t like it, please she’d actually bawl). Her other older brother is tired? She can get him extra blankets! Mama needs help cleaning? She can mop (she really just throws water on the floor and praises herself for a job well done). Papa need to cut wood? She can- no, she can’t. Please don’t give her an axe. She’ll cheer him from the sidelines with a song she made up just for him instead! She has their mother’s grey hair and father’s dark brown eyes, and loves to do her hair like the princesses she sees on Tv! (Yes, Jack will wear a too-small dress and Tiara if his sister wants to play princess. No, he will not let anyone take pictures.)

Octavinelle:

Tweels:

-Mama Leech: At first glance, a very kind woman with soft eyes. Willing to open her arms to anyone who might need help. Then, a terrifying grin similar to Floyd’s as that poor unfortunate soul realizes the trap they’d been thrown in. She’s very kind and patient towards both her boys and husband, as well as their friends (even of she is on guard near their friends, throwing a few hollow threats to see if it’d scare them away)(She doesn’t like to share her babies). She dotes on the tweels as much as possible, indulging im whatever curiosity they may have. Floyd wants to know what going through riptide is like? They leave tomorrow to find one. Jade wants to know more about life on land? She’ll find as many books as possible and ask (threaten) people for their land belongings. She knows when too far is too far though, and is very skilled at reeling the boys back in if they get to that point. Will always call them her little guppies, no matter how big they get. I think she’d have a teal bob on top, with the underside of her hair being black (which makes her hair look color changing when she swims). Im her human form shes only a few inches shorter than her boys, ranging around the same as Jack’s mother.

-Papa Leech: The definition of old Hollywood New York mob boss. Strict and blunt about his interests and problems, and not afraid to cause any problems if provoked. When the tweels were younger and they’d wrestle and bite at him, he’d throw them off him easily, telling them they need to work to beat him, even if he was impressed by their teamwork at first. Will die to protect his family, and was likely put in that position many times in the past due to his uh… business. He values his wife and children more than anything, and has done everything in his power in the past to protect them from harm. When they went to NRC at first, he felt defeated and almost wanted to beg them to stay safe with him (not that his pride would allow it).(Both the tweels can see through his facade easily)

Azul:

-Grandma ‘grotto: A very stern and prim octomermaid. What she says goes in the Ashengrotto house, and she often catches herself making unnecessary comments. She does apologize. Also a very loving grandmother towards Azul, often babying him whenever possible (doing the classic “you’re not eating enough here take some more” grandma move)(She will smooch his face whenever possible when there are no business clients nearby). Tries to boost his confidence since she knew about what was happening to him (Chances are she went through the same thing- being an octomer as well) and dod her best to protect him and make him happy. She taught him how to write with his tentacles and encouraged him to do his best in everything he does.

-Mama ‘grotto: Another businesslady in the front absolute softie in the back situation. Adores her son and is incredibly proud of how far he’s come.I think she looks identical to Azul, but more heavyset and, of course, female. She coddled Azul as much as possible, which worked out well with baby Azul’s clingy nature. She had no shame in walking around with the little guy stuck to her (unless he smacked a tentacle to her face when she was working on her restaurant), and made sure everyone knew what a good boy he was. She would show pictures to everyone (similar to Ruggie’s grandma), but respects his wishes in wanting to hide pictures of his past. She still shows anyone who asks pictures of him at NRC (compliments to the twins, who send her updates when her son is busy), and will tell everyone how smart he is and how much he’s grown.

-Step-Papa grotto: A very professional man in every aspect of his life, which stretches to his relationship with his stepson. When he learns about the contracts and Azuls UM, he’s over the moon with how happy he is. He swam around with a little more pep than usual, flicking his tail and flaring out his fins the more and more Azul told him. He helps him reword and format his contracts to his advantage, and is always willing to talk with him about Mostro Lounge or (on rare occasion) some memories before Step papa Ashengrotto met Mama Ashengrotto (which always make him happy that Azul trusts him enough). I think he’d be a pretty generic looking Mer, with an average looking tail and such

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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

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Aerosmith

Alright, y'all: here's that fic that I'm low key scared no one is going to read that has taken me a few months to write, a Trent x single mom!reader fic

It's a long one, with the Bruin's feral little fighty boy from St. Louis, around 13.3k words. The songs listed as the headers of each section are all by Aerosmith, each part partially inspired by the song (hence the name of the fic)

Shoutout to @toplinetommy for helping me with this the entire time and being my beta AND to @chara-hugs for letting me bounce ideas off of you and talking through what I was thinking of. Love you lots 💛

I hope people like this

___________

Just Push Play

Considering how much was happening around you at the bar your friends had dragged you to, the only thing that could keep your attention was your phone. It was the only thing, at this point, that you would allow to keep your attention. You had no desire to be there. Part of you wanted your phone to start buzzing, anything that would give you an excuse for you to leave, but the other part of you knew that something bad had to happen in order for you to leave. Every second that you stayed was costing you more money and less time being where you wanted to be.

“Hey, Y/N, put the phone away. This is your first night out in, like, years,” Molly tells you.

“Four years. Maybe five?” you guess.

“Six years, exactly,” she wrongly says, earning a disappointed head shake from you, a small ‘no’ escaping your lips that goes ignored as she takes your hand that’s holding the phone. “Can we please just enjoy tonight and have some fun? He’s going to be fine.”

You take in a deep breath, almost sure she was right about that. You hadn’t had a night to yourself in years, and Molly was also almost right that this was your first one in over four years. Actually, given the timeline, it was probably more like five. “But what if something happens?” you ask, the natural worry and constant fear you felt taking over your ability to just enjoy the night.

“If something, anything happens, you’ll be able to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket, and I will go home with you to take care of it,” she reassures you, playing around with the settings on your phone. She hands it back to you, pulling you up from the table you had yet to move from in the first place. “He’s fine. He always is. Why don’t you request a song?”

“Because you keep telling me you hate my music.”

“Well, that’s because you have the same music taste as your sixty-something-year-old father when you’re a twenty-something-year-old woman.”

“You don’t even know how old I am? We’re the same age.” Molly rolls her eyes at you, dragging you up to the line of people to request songs, a book sitting there with the songs you could request. “They’re not going to have anything I like,” you tell her as the line behind you gets longer.

“Don’t you listen to that one guy?” she starts.

“That could mean anything. Have I told you lately that you are the most unhelpful person I know?” you snap at her, trying to find anything in your Spotify that you could request as the line got shorter and shorter in front of you. “What about this song?” you ask, your finger hovering over someone from one of your Daily Mixes. Molly looks over your shoulder at your phone, shaking her head at your song choice, and every song choice that you suggested. “I’m just going back to the table, you’re being impossible.”

Before she can protest, you turn around and head back to your table, sitting off to the side away from the rest of your friends, your eyes glued to your phone. At this point, you were praying that you would get a message from Rachel asking you to come home, telling you that something was wrong. Even something as simple as she had to leave unexpectedly so you could, too. Anything so that you could leave sooner rather than later.

“Sorry, but you really couldn’t find a song in that book?” you hear a guy's voice, tearing you away from the screen. He sits down next to you, not too close that it was uncomfortable but just close enough that you could smell his cologne, covering the smell of beer that had been lingering in the air around you. “There was some Aerosmith in there, I have a feeling that’s the closest to something you’d enjoy,” he says, smiling at you.

He must have been in the group that was in line behind you, hearing your conversation with Molly. Regardless, you smile back at him, something about his own being so infectious that you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Well, you’re right, but it depends on what Aerosmith song,” you respond, a hint of flirting in your voice.

“Is there a bad one?”

“No, but there are some superior ones,” you tell him, his eyebrow cocked as a sign to get you to explain. “Sweet Emotion is great but not as good as their cover of Come Together. Dream On and I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing are easily, in my opinion, their best songs.”

“Is that up for debate?”

“Oh, you think their most popular songs aren’t their best?”

“I think the one that’s about to play is one of their best,” the guy says, both of you pausing as there’s a lull in the music, the chatter and screaming of the bar’s drunk patrons overtaking everything.

“Just Push Play?” you ask, a smile on your face. It wasn’t one of their most well-known songs, but you still had to admit it was an underrated one.

The boy shrugs, a smirk on his face. “I might have requested it so you’ll have a reason to dance with me,” he flirts, getting up and extending his hand for you to join him.

You hesitate, unsure if you should get up with this mystery man standing in front of you. There was something about him that you couldn’t figure out. He looked young, probably younger than you but looks can be deceiving, nevertheless telling you that there was some sort of innocence or naivety to him, but the obviously fit physique under his clothing telling you that he could and would break your heart in a moment if he had to, the time leading up to that would be like nothing you had experienced before. You didn’t have time or the energy to spend on something you knew would lead to heartbreak, but you felt like you wanted to, like you had to. “I’m not sure I can dance with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

“I’m Trent,” he says, taking your hand and guiding you away from the table. You introduce yourself as his hands snake their way around your waist, holding you close enough that you could feel his heart starting to race against your own chest as your hands met the skin at the back of his neck, your fingers grazing along the collar of the back of his shirt, the two of you not moving at all in sync with the faster beat of the song. Not that you cared. There was something about this boy you were talking to talk to over the music that made you completely disregard the movement around you, forgetting about your phone and what was waiting for you at home for the first time in nearly five years.

You danced for what felt like forever, for what you wanted to last forever, every song passing you by as he listed out song after song that he recognized, most of them country as he claimed he had a country playlist that went on for seven hours, all of them involving him trying to sing bits and pieces of the lyrics off-key, every time pulling a laugh from you.

“I don’t know what I like more,” he starts, resting his forehead against yours as the space between the two of you disappeared, “the music they’re playing or your laugh.”

You roll your eyes, a smile on your face as the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Those lines usually don’t work on me.”

“But?” he asks, his lips ghosting yours.

“But from you, they do,” you tell him, planting your lips on his before he has the chance to say anything else. You didn’t know what it was about Trent; you were never the one to make the first move, you barely interacted with guys at this point since your life was permanently hectic. But Trent was something else. You don’t know what Trent was, you just knew he was different.

His hands were on your back, finding their way to your waist, his grip tightening when you feel someone tap your shoulder. You pull away, a pout on Trent’s face as you turn around to see Molly, waving your phone in your face. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Oh, shoot!” you squeal, taking your phone. “I’m sorry, I have to get home.”

A confused look covers Trent’s face. “Is your Uber going to turn into a pumpkin if you aren’t home, Cinderella?”

You laugh at his joke, going back to your table to grab your stuff. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, “But I really have to get home.”

“Let me walk you.”

You stop in your tracks as you were rushing out the door. You never brought a guy anywhere near your apartment, knowing that most of them would want to go in, most of them would want to sleep with you if you invited them, most of them would be gone by morning when they found out why you didn’t want them there in the first place. You don’t know why you knew Trent would be different. “No, you don’t have to,” you tell him, instead, even though you wish you could bring him home with you.

Before he can answer, someone calls out his name, pulling the two of you away from each other’s attention. “Trent, we’re leaving.”

Trent looks between you and his friend, the group of guys aggregating around him as they wait for his answer.

“You don’t have to,” you repeat, trying to get out the door because you had to.

“Jack, give me a minute,” Trent calls to his friends, “I want to,” he tells you, taking your arm, turning you towards him. The look in his eyes was sincere, begging you to let him walk you home. “Please?”

You let out a sigh, caving in even though you knew you shouldn’t. “Fine, yeah. Let’s go,” you tell him, taking his hand and leading him out of the bar, his friends left without an answer as they watched the two of you walk away.

Come Together

“I’ve had a really great night. Sorry about my friends, though” Trent apologizes to you again. He explained that he had gone out with them after their game that night, supposed to be spending their off-day tomorrow together, but Trent leaving with you had seemingly changed those plans. As the two of you walked and talked on the way back, his hand never left yours, from the time you left the bar to now standing outside your door. He pulls you in for another kiss, the worries of what was on the other side of the door melting away. You wanted to invite him in, but you weren’t sure if he would even want to once he found out.

Your door opens, Rachel stepping out. “Sorry, it’s almost curfew.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” you tell her, Trent confused by the girl sneaking out of your apartment. “That was Rachel. She’s my babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

You could feel your face twisting involuntarily at his question. You knew you should have told him before you got home, it would have been easier leaving him at the bar than watching him walk away from you outside your door. Why did you even let him walk you home in the first place? Because he’s hot and you’re dumb, that’s why. “I have a four-year-old son. If you wanted to leave, I would understand. Most guys do when I tell them about Ben,” you spit out, not making eye contact with him. You weren’t ashamed of your son, you just knew people your age got weirded out and panicked at the thought of the responsibility that came with having a child.

He tilts your head up, his eyes flicking between your own and your lips, a lazy smile on his face. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to stay?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, kissing you yet again. You bring him inside, showing him Ben’s room first. The two of you stand in the doorway, his arms wrapped around your waist as you lean against the door frame. You feel him kiss the back of your head as you watch Ben wriggle in his sheets before settling down, you taking Trent’s hand and leading him down to your room. You tell him that you don’t want to do anything because of Ben being so close, Trent giving you a sweet smile, kissing you before settling next to you in bed. You had no idea why, but it all felt so domestic, so right that he was there with you in that moment.

“Can I ask you something?” his voice pierces the silence that had fallen between you.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you mention Ben before?”

You swallow hard. You weren’t ashamed of having Ben, something you found yourself repeating in your mind every time you told a guy about your son. He was the best part of your life. Everything you did was for him. “We’re young. Being a single mom at our age has such a stigma around it. When guys find out, they normally bolt. I didn’t want you to until the last possible second.” You turn to him, still able to make out his features in the dark, the pout that was forming on his face visible without anything lighting him up.

“You could have told me before we got here,” he says, pain in his voice as he reaches for your face, the pad of his thumb gently grazing over your cheek. “I don’t care if you have a kid. I mean, I do, Ben is part of who you are. But, I would have understood. I understand. You shouldn’t be afraid of telling someone about that part of you. What I know about you so far is pretty amazing, I can only imagine what Ben brings to the table.”

“That seems weirdly out of character for what I know about you,” you tease him, pulling a smile from him.

“Well, maybe, but even a stopped clock is right twice a day, right?”

You kiss him, a feeling of relief washing over you at his words. The two of you spend the rest of the night telling each other about yourselves, keeping quiet for Ben, despite the amount of laughter you let you. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy made you feel so happy, falling asleep with a smile on your face, his arms wrapped around your waist as if that’s where they belonged.

You wake up the next morning, the sun shining into your room, but no Trent. You get out of bed, probably figuring that he had left in the middle of the night, trying to spare your feelings about you having a son. You understood. What guy really wants to get into a relationship with a single mom at this age?

You go to check on Ben, opening the door to his bedroom to find that he wasn’t in his room. You started to panic at the sight of his empty bed, unmade with his blankets in disarray. If Trent was gone, and Ben was gone, where could they be? He wouldn’t kidnap your son, would he? He was a professional athlete, that’s not something he would do, right? Your panic starts to recede when you hear laughter coming from the kitchen.

Trent is standing at the stove, spatula in hand with eggs cooking on the stove, a piece of bread held up to his face with holes bitten out of it where his eyes are, making Ben shriek with laughter. “Sorry. I heard him get up and I didn’t want to wake you, so I started making breakfast. Is that ok?”

You can’t help but smile, going over to Ben. “How’s he doing so far?”

“Mommy, look! French toast!” Ben says, pointing excitedly to the cut-up pieces of bread on his plate.

“French toast?” you repeat, your eyes wide to play along with his excitement. “Give me a bite,” you tell him, opening your mouth as he picks up a piece with his fingers, nearly missing your mouth. You hear Trent laugh, you not containing your own.

You go over to Trent, leaning into him as the two of you watch Ben eat the food Trent made. You feel him kiss the top of your head, his fingers dancing up and down along your arm. You look at his hand, a bandaid on the back of his hand. “What happened to you here?”

“Oh, oops,” he says, looking at his hand. “Got a little cut, but don’t worry, it’s not bad. Dr. Ben here fixed me right up,” he tells you, going over to Ben and ruffling his hair.

Trent hands you a plate of french toast and eggs, pouring you a cup of coffee, kissing you in front of Ben, who either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. No guy had ever stayed the night, let alone stayed and made breakfast for the two of you the next morning.

“So, what were you two talking about before I joined?” you ask, taking another bite of the French Toast. You already knew it was good from what Ben gave you, but you were still devouring it.

“Bears, boots, and battles of galaxias,” Ben lets out, his full mouth spraying crumbs everywhere.

“I’ve been trying to make sense of that all morning. I have no idea what he means. Why does that sound familiar?” Trent asks, sitting down next to you, his hand on your thigh under the table, sending a chill through your entire body as his fingers lazily traced an unknown pattern on your skin.

You take a sip of the coffee he had handed you, setting down your cup and putting your hand on top of his under the table. “He saw that one part of the Office, the identity theft cold opening, where Jim says, ‘Bears, beets, Battlestar Galactica?’ That’s how he remembered it,” you explain, Trent looking over to your son who was fixated on the food in front of him.

“Benny,” Trent calls him, your entire body going numb hearing him call him the same nickname you used for your son, “do you like bears?”

“Bears are the coolest!” he squeals. Everything he saw with a bear on it, he would start begging you to buy him, your heart breaking from the look on his face when you had to tell him no, we don’t need the kitchen towel just because it has a bear on it.

“Can you do your best bear impression for Mom and I?” You felt your heart skip at the sound of Trent calling referring to you as just ‘Mom’ instead of ‘your mom,’ like he was already part of the family. You didn’t even hear Ben growling, his best attempt at being the ‘scary’ Baby Bear that he was just laughing along with Trent.

“Hey, buddy, what if I called you Benny Bear from now on? Do you like that?” Trent asks, Ben nodding excitedly at his nickname.

“You’re nice,” Ben says to Trent while he clears his plate, Ben running off to go play.

You look at Trent, not able to help how you were beaming at him getting along so well with your son. It was like he belonged there with you, and with Ben, making his presence that much better. “That means he likes you.”

“Not trying to pry,” Trent starts, standing beside you at the sink while you wash the dishes, “But how often does he like the guys you bring home?”

You bite your bottom lip, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “I almost never bring guys home. And when I do, he generally doesn’t talk to them.”

“So he likes me,” he starts, getting closer to you as you nod your head. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you away from the sink. “How about you?”

“That depends,” you flirt, stretching to turn the sink off before draping your arm on his shoulders, twirling his hair through your fingers at the nape of his neck, “do you like me?”

He lets out a small laugh, pulling you in for a kiss. “I do.”

“I like you, too. Help me finish cleaning up and then we’ll go watch Ben, ok?”

The two of you wash dishes in silence, weirdly domestic and comfortable considering you knew this boy all of twelve hours. “Can I ask you something?” Trent breaks the silence, just as he did the night before.

“Sure.”

“Where’s Ben’s dad?” You take in a deep breath, knowing that this would have come up eventually. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he continues, a wash of panic over his face at the thought of asking something too personal too soon.

You shake your head, smiling at him to try to calm him down. “No, no, that’s fine. Um, we were together when we were in college, but we broke up. I started feeling like shit so I went to the doctor and she told me, ‘Congrats! You’re two months pregnant!’”

“Does he know about Ben?” Trent asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. I told him when I found out because I knew Ben was his. I told him that I was going to keep the baby and since we weren’t together anymore, he had the choice of either being present and helping out or if he didn’t want the responsibility, then that was fine, too.”

He didn’t know what about the way you were talking was making him feel this way. A lump in his throat was forming looking at your eyes start to shine with the threat of tears while you refused to make eye contact with him. You rarely talked about Ben’s father, making the decision a long time ago that he wasn’t worth your time thinking about since he didn’t want much to do with his own son. “And he didn’t?”

“He sends a present to Ben on his birthdays and Christmas, but other than that nothing really. I’m not even sure if Ben’s made the connection between the presents and his father yet. Like I said, though, I gave him the choice.”

“Do you regret anything?”

“I could never regret Ben or anything with him. I almost regret giving his father the choice, though. Being a parent isn’t easy, even if you have someone to take up half the work, but it’s even harder when it’s just you by yourself, you know? And I’ve gotten help, but it would be different if Ben had his dad as a constant in his life. Ben’s only seen him a few times, anyway. He calls him Andy instead of dad, and it’s just,” you stop, trying to find the word, “heartbreaking seems too severe, seeing him not acknowledge his dad as his dad, but what can you do?”

Trent didn’t know what to say. He was practically still a child himself when you really look at him. He couldn’t imagine having his own at this point in his life, let alone raising one on his own. “I’m sorry,” is all he can get out, trying not to cry even though he could hear Ben’s laughter ringing from the other room, sending a weird sense of joy through him at the same time.

“No, it’s fine. I would rather do this alone than do this with someone who didn’t want Ben to begin with. You can’t be a parent if you aren’t all in.”

He had no idea why, but he already felt so connected to Ben. There was no reason why, but he did. “I’m in.”

You turn back to him, shocked, confused, not even sure if you heard what he said properly. “What?”

“I’m in with you. With Ben. If you’ll let me. I want to see you again, keep seeing you. And that includes Ben. He already likes me, after all.” Trent was used to making snap decisions, on the ice, off the ice, wherever. He knew this was one, but this one felt like his best one.

“You don’t have to, you have your own life with hockey and everything,” you try to insist, cut off by Trent’s lips connecting with yours.

“I want to. Let’s go play with Ben.”

Angel

“Are you sure this is safe?” you ask him for what was probably the millionth time, getting out of his car in front of the rink.

He runs around to get Ben out of his car seat, you grabbing the stuff he had stashed in the trunk. “Yes, I promise it is. The guys bring their kids all the time and they’re way younger than Ben.” He had invited you and Ben to the family skate the team was having, you reluctant to go since Ben had never been skating before. Naturally, you were worried he would get hurt, either by falling down or being curious about the skate and somehow cutting himself, something you were sure he would do if given the chance.

You two had been together for about a month, Ben falling head over heels for Trent, jumping up and down whenever he saw him on TV. Much to your dismay, Ben loved it when Trent was fighting, begging you to let him play hockey so he could fight just like Trent. You loved taking videos of his excitement despite that fear of him skating and fighting like Trent, sending them to him to see during the game, Trent always making sure to FaceTime you the next afternoon when you got home from work if you two couldn’t meet up so that he could talk to Ben. He was acting like the dad Ben never had.

And that was terrifying to you. The thought of you and Trent breaking up and him suddenly leaving Ben’s life was the reason why you never got close with a guy before. You didn’t want Ben to go through that. You didn’t want to go through that.

But there you were, sitting rinkside at the Garden as you tried to tie up the skates that Trent got for Ben, his feet swinging back and forth in excitement no matter how much you tried to get him to stop for a moment.

“Are you excited, Benny Bear?” Trent asks, picking him up and walking out to the ice.

“Yeah!” he says, squirming around and clearly ready to go.

You weren’t sure if you were more nervous about Ben being on the ice for the first time, Trent already showing him how to skate, or you formally meeting all his teammates for the first time, that night at the bar not really counting. The three of you step onto the ice, Ben in between you two, practically swinging in the air as you both held his hands while you skate.

“You’re nervous?” Trent asks, reading the expression on your face.

“They look like they didn’t know about Ben.” You saw the looks you were getting from the guys' families as you and Trent were skating around with Ben between you. You knew they were looks of confusion, but you couldn't help but think that they were the same looks when you went out with Ben in general, the societal disapproval of being a young mother, no ring on that finger to show that this was planned with another parent on the other side. People were judgemental; it was in their nature, but you were hoping Trent’s teammates were accepting like Trent had been.

“Um, I guess I didn’t tell them? I didn’t think I needed to,” he says, looking down at your son. Ben was beaming, not paying attention to what you two were talking about, not that he would probably understand it if he was. Trent didn’t think it would be a big deal to have your son around. The guys knew he was seeing you, but was it really that big a deal that you have Ben? He looks over at you, the scared look that was on your face worrying him. “We can just tell him he’s your nephew or your little brother?” he whispers so Ben doesn’t hear.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem to want them to know he’s your son?”

You stop skating, pulling Trent over to the side while holding onto Ben’s hand as he begs to pull away and take a lap on his own, something you weren’t going to let him do. “I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben,” you hiss at him.

“I’m not saying that you are. I’m just saying if you’re scared of what people would think we could just tell them something else.”

You look at him for a moment, trying to properly process his words. “Am I scared of what people think, or are you?”

He steps back, careful not to fall on whoever's kid was zooming past him at that moment, Ben begging to go skate with him. “Hey, Zach,” he calls Patrice’s son over. “If he takes Ben is that ok?”

You knew you shouldn’t say yes, but you didn’t need Ben hearing this conversation, no matter how oblivious he might have been to begin with. “If you trust him, fine.”

“Zach,” Trent starts, crouching down to their level, his hands on Ben’s shoulders so he can’t skate away before he’s done, “Can you take care of my guy Ben here? Make sure he doesn’t fall? Go skate to your dad.” Zach and Ben practically rush off with each other to Zach’s dad, eager to skate around and surprisingly good for their age. “What do you mean I’m scared?”

“Who’s the one suggesting that we don’t tell your teammates that Ben is my son? We’ve been out together when people ask if he’s my brother, my nephew, if I’m his nanny, and every single time you’ve seen me correct them. I told you I’m not ashamed of Ben. And to come here and have everyone giving us looks because they’re trying to figure out who he is to you makes it seem like you are. You couldn’t even tell the guys you claim are like your family about Ben. He’s not old enough for that hurt, but I am.”

He looks down at the ice, shuffling back and forth on his skates. “I’m sorry.”

You move closer to him, tempted to reach out and hold him. He looked just as hurt as you felt, part of you glad that he was actually showing he was sympathetic instead of just saying it. “Are you ashamed of Ben?”

His head snaps to you, a look of disbelief on his face. He starts shaking his head, the curls on his head that were loose enough going wild with his movement. “I’m crazy about that kid. I know why you aren’t ashamed of him because I don’t think I could ever be.” Trent turns around to find Ben on the ice, skating around with the other kids, some of the guys playing a small game with them, Ben with his own little stick. He watches Ben score on whoever was playing goalie, Ben shrieking with joy. Trent couldn’t help but smile, turning to you. “He means more to me than I thought someone else's child could.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them about Ben?” you ask him.

He shrugs, sticking out his bottom lip. “Because I’m dumb.”

You can’t help but laugh, hooking your fingers in his belt loops to pull him close to you. “Well, I do call you a stupid muppet,” you joke, earning a groan from him, “Hey, I say it with affection and you did say I could call you that.”

He cups your face and kisses you, momentarily forgetting his teammates and their families around you. “We could go tell them now?” he suggests, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Do you want to?”

Trent starts skating over to the rest of the guys, Ben giggling and playing with the rest of the kids. The two of you start talking to his teammates, introducing yourself to Jack and Jeremy, keeping your eye on Ben while he plays as you wait for Trent to finally say something about him.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben’s voice tears you two away from the conversation. “I’m you!” he yells, using the stick to try to shoot the puck, instead missing the puck and falling down on the ice. He was trying to process what just happened, hopefully not meaning to do what he did.

You look at Trent’s face, his teammates laughing while his face turned red. Ben shoots back up and starts skating again, Trent beaming at him. ��That was cold,” he says to you, a smile on his face anyway.

“You know he didn’t mean it,” you tell him, squeezing his bicep before skating over to your son. You lift him up off the ice, thankful that he was still small enough to do that as you kiss his cheek and skate around with just him for a bit.

Trent couldn’t take his eyes off you, his teammates doing everything they could to try to peel his attention away from you. He watched you interact with Ben, the same light in your eyes when he looked at your son.

“Dude?” Jack finally succeeds in bringing Trent back down to Earth, “is that her brother?”

Trent shakes his head, turning back to you. “Nope, that’s her son.”

“Son? What are you thinking?” Jack asked. He knew what he meant. Trent was young. You were young. Having a kid was something real adults did, not whatever definition of adult he fell under.

Trent shrugs, watching you and Ben laugh and smile as you skated around, talking with some of the guys' girlfriends as they coo over Ben. “I’ve been better since I started seeing her.”

“You were fine before you started seeing her,” one of them mumbles.

He rolls his eyes, turning back to them. “Come on. I was fine but I wasn’t great. All I did was punch a few guys and get a couple of secondary assists. Even Butch said something about my play last game. Everything in my life is better with Y/N in it. And Ben.”

He didn’t hear what the guys were saying, and honestly, he didn’t care either. He loved your son, probably not as much as you did, but he felt like he was getting there. He wanted to get there.

Because he loved you.

Dream On

“Where are you?” Molly's voice comes through your phone, panicked and irritated. “I thought you were coming in today?”

“What are you talking about? Today’s my day off.” You were at home, sitting on the couch with the tv playing in the background while Ben played with his toys in front of you. It was one of the rare days that you could spend from the time you woke up until you went to sleep with your son, and you had no real intention of changing those plans, which is what it sounded like Molly was going to ask you to do.

“Well, you know that funding we secured for that new project?”

“Yeah?” you say, Ben coming up to you, trying to show you something. “Hold on, Benny. What’s going on, Mol?”

“They’re getting cold feet.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, we need you here. You and DeAndre were the ones who got them in the first place, and he’s already here. Please?”

You take in a deep breath, trying to figure out if anyone is free to watch Ben. You couldn’t bring him in and have him running around the office while you were trying to convince a major investor to give you the money promised. “I have to find a babysitter but I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you sigh, wracking your brain as to who would be free. Rachel couldn’t typically do weekends, but maybe she could if you promised to pay her extra? But then there was the issue of: did you have the money to pay her extra?

You start scrolling through your contacts, trying to figure out if anyone in there would be able to watch your son, running into your room to get changed to look at least a little presentable.

Trent’s name pops up, calling you with what you hoped would be somewhat perfect timing. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” you answer, your phone on your bed as you try to find something to wear.

“What am I looking at?”

“I’m changing for work and my phone is on my bed, so the ceiling.”

“I thought it was your day off?” he asks as you throw what seemed to be the only clean work shirt that you could find. You knew you were forgetting to do something today, now you realized it was laundry.

“Molly called saying that I need to go in and now I have to find someone to watch Ben or else I’m going to have to bring him in with me, which doesn’t seem like a good idea. And most of my friends are from work or have their own lives and can’t watch him, Rachel can’t do weekends, but I guess I could ask her if she has any friends who could watch him last minute.”

“Y/N.”

“But then I have to pay them and since it’s so last minute I would need to give them more money, right?”

“Y/N.”

“I guess I could, but I think I would also have to pay for meals, and then I have no idea what time I’m going to get home, and whenever that is I’m going to have to do laundry, and-”

“Hey. Earth to Y/N. I can watch him,” Trent finally cuts you off long enough to get a word in.

You were hesitant; Trent had never been left alone with Ben, and probably never left alone with a four-year-old ever by your assumptions. “No, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you tell him, picking up your phone to see him.

“I’m serious! You just said you need a babysitter, I was going to ask if I could come over and see you before the road trip, anyway.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, biting your lip. Did you trust Trent enough to let him watch and take care of Ben? If you could trust Rachel, a girl who still had a curfew and couldn’t even drive her friends in the same car as her, why couldn’t you trust your boyfriend?

“Of course!” he says, clearly getting up and walking around what you think was his apartment. “I’m leaving right now, I’ll be there in ten.”

He hangs up and leaves you to finish getting ready, hurrying through trying to make yourself look presentable and finding the stuff that you needed. You couldn’t find your work bag, or your computer, mentally cursing yourself for the one time you didn’t leave it in your closet like you normally did.

“Hey, Benny? Have you seen Mommy’s computer and bag?” you go into your living room to where you left Ben. He shakes his head, his overall attention not leaving whichever toy he was fixated on. “Great,” you mutter under your breath, trying to find it. “Ben, how about you and I play a game?” you ask him, getting down in front of him. “If you can help me find my blue bag and my computer, someone really special will come over tonight!”

Ben gets up and starts looking for you, hoping that you can find it before Trent actually gets to your place. “Mommy! I found it!” Ben comes running to you, your bag nearly as big as him as he struggles to carry it to you.

You take it from him, kissing his head as he goes running off, a knock at your door just in time. Opening it, you see Trent on the other side, a bag in his hand. Kissing him hello, you tell him, “I owe you big time.”

“We can discuss payment when you get home. And I have some ideas as to how you could pay me,” he says, bringing you in for a kiss.

“Trent!” Ben runs over, interrupting.

Trent practically launches himself off you, picking up Ben and hugging him while your son’s laughter and happiness fill your home. “Benny Bear!” He gives Ben the bag, telling him to open it.

“A bear!” Ben jumps up and down with the small stuffed animal that Trent had gotten him.

“What does a bear say?” Trent asks, both of them going, “grrrrr,” with their hands curled like claws, their faces scrunched. You felt yourself melting at the sight of Trent getting along so well with Ben, your son running around in circles with his new toy that he would probably say is his favorite since it came from Trent.

“Did you buy him a Benny Bear?” you gush, bringing him in for a hug.

“I saw it when I was on the road and had to get it for the little guy.”

“You love him,” you tell him, not needing to ask since you already knew what his answer would be if you did.

“Of course. But you have to get to work,” he tells you, pushing you off him.

“I’ll pay you for whatever you get for dinner, order what you want, within reason for him.”

“You don’t have to pay me back, and I’ll make sure to get him lots of candy,” he jokes, earning a look from you. “I’m joking,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. “Go, go to work. I’ve got this.”

“If you need anything call me, or even one of the guys who have kids. If you trust them, I’ll trust them.” You kiss him again, yell goodbye to your son and remind him to behave for Trent. You were nervous about leaving Ben alone with him, but if you wanted to be serious about this guy, you had to do it at some point, right?

You close the door, leaving Ben and Trent alone on the other side as you try to think about how you and DeAndre can now keep your investors from pulling money, practically running down the hall so that you can get to your car.

Trent turns around, Ben already sitting back down on the floor and playing away with his toys. He had no idea how to watch a four-year-old. He takes in a deep breath, sitting on the ground with Ben, his back leaning up against your couch. “Alright, Benny, what do you want to do?”

Ben hands Trent a toy, starting to ramble on about whatever magical world he’s conjured up that Trent was no part of. He had no idea what he was doing, trying to follow along with your son’s imagination as best as he could.

Trent didn’t know how you did it. Ben was a ball of energy all the time, and at home seemed to be no exception. Trent was chasing him around as they played ‘Bear catcher,’ which Trent wasn’t really sure the rules of in the first place, just following around your four-year-old through your apartment while he sprinted, jumped, hid, crawled, and did every other action that Trent felt too old for.

Ben finally sits down and focuses on the tv when he hears some song coming from it, the first moments that Trent can sit down as well, hoisting himself onto the cushions. His phone starts buzzing, a call from Jack coming in. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?” Jack’s voice comes through the phone as Ben gets up again, starting to run around with the bear Trent bought him.

“I’m watching Ben.”

“Since when are you a babysitter?” Jack asks, judgment dripping in his voice.

“Since Y/N needed a babysitter and I was free.” Ben climbs up on the couch and starts jumping, Trent suddenly feeling a wash of panic over him at the thought of Ben falling and getting hurt. Jack starts saying something that Trent knew he didn’t want to hear anyway, giving him the perfect excuse to cut him off. “Hey, Ben, you’ve gotta be careful. Sorry, dude, I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow.”

He hangs up before Jack can get another word in. “Hey, Benny. Mom said we could order dinner,” he says, pulling Ben into his lap in hopes that he would calm down long enough so he could talk to him. Ben squirms as his energy never seems to stop, Trent doing everything he can to try to figure this out. “What sounds good to you?”

“Ice cream!”

Trent lets out a small laugh, Ben’s face glowing at the thought of ice cream for dinner. “No, bud, you can’t have ice cream for dinner.”

“Ice cream! Ice cream!” Ben wriggles free of Trent’s grasp, repeating the phrase over and over again as he sets off running around again.

Trent was way in over his head. He didn’t think that Ben would have this much energy for this long. Whenever he was with you, it was either during the day and Ben stayed relatively calm, or when you were playing, he had you to help counteract and keep Ben from being the seemingly crazy child that he was right now. He could call you and ask what to do, but from how you sounded on the phone and when he came over, you were way too stressed out to also have to worry about Ben at that moment. He could call one of his teammates who actually knew what they were doing when it came to child care, but Jack’s words from the family skate practically haunted him. He wasn’t in too over his head when he was with you, or when he was with you and Ben. But just Ben? Not going too well.

“Benny Bear, come here,” Trent says, reaching out to catch Ben as he runs by the couch. “How about, we get something else to eat, and if you eat all of it, I’ll get you ice cream?” he asks, making a mental note to at least text you to ask if it was ok that he have it. Ben nods his head since Trent technically said he could have ice cream. “What do you want?”

“Mac and cheese!”

“What about,” he starts, pulling out his phone. “Some chicken fingers?” Something told him cheese and ice cream wasn’t going to end well for Ben’s stomach that night, and by default, it wasn’t going to end well for Trent, either.

Ben nods, going back off and running around the room. He had to tire out at some point, right?

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Trent calling you to make sure his dinner plans were ok.

“Hey, Ben said he wanted ice cream, but I told him only if he eats his dinner, and I had to make sure it was alright with you, first.”

“What did you settle on?”

“Chicken fingers?”

He hears someone calling your name in the background, you yelling something back to them in panic. “Yeah, there might be some in the freezer? If not, just tell him that the ice cream fairy is coming later and he can have it tomorrow, or something. There are also some carrots in the fridge, too. Tell him he has to eat some of those if he wants ice cream, even if I don’t have any. Have some with him, pretend they’re spaceships, and play with them before you eat them, that normally distracts him long enough.”

“That works?”

“Trent, he’s four. Most things like that do.” He hears more yelling from your end, Ben coming zooming by him yet again, nearly tripping over Trent’s feet. “I’ve gotta run. Love you, bye.”

You hang up before Trent can react. You hadn’t told each other that you loved the other yet. He knew he loved you, but he didn’t know if you loved him back. But you just said it, and he didn’t even know if you meant it since you said it in such a hurried context. He hoped you meant it. He can’t even focus while he’s ordering dinner, not really sure what he was having other than the carrots you mentioned were in the fridge.

Trent just sits there while he waits for the food to arrive, getting the carrots out and trying to see if there was anything close to ice cream, or even yogurt that he could throw in the freezer for Ben while he continues to zoom around your apartment. “Hey, Benny, look!” he says, holding up the carrots. “Spaceships!”

This felt like he was talking to a dog, which seemed weird, but at this rate, Ben was tiring him out so fast he didn’t know what to do. He and Ben start playing with the carrots, watching your son eat what was in front of him when the doorbell rang for food.

Ben keeps playing with food, something Trent thought you probably wouldn’t like too much, but at this point, he didn’t know if he should care. He had no idea how you did this. There was no way Ben had this much energy every night, right? He had never seen you exhausted, so Ben couldn’t be a ball of energy all the time. At least, that’s what he convinced himself as he sat there eating his food.

Eventually, Ben goes to sleep, Trent helping get him ready for bed and tucking him in. You had texted that you weren’t sure when you were going to be home, but Trent was free to stay the night instead of driving back home regardless of what time you would be back, something he gladly took you up on.

Trent finally settles down after finding a pair of sweats he left at your place a while ago, collapsing onto the couch in complete exhaustion from Ben’s running.

“Trent?” he hears Ben’s small voice coming from down the hall, pulling Trent away from the trance he fell in trying to stay awake until you got home. “Trent!”

He runs down the hall at the sound of the increased panic in your son’s voice, not sure what he was supposed to expect when he practically burst through his bedroom door. “Buddy, what’s wrong?”

Ben was breathing heavily when Trent got close to his bed, clutching his sheets to his chest, “I had a bad dream.”

Trent sits down on Ben’s bed, a sad smile on his face. “Ah, Benny, it’s all over now. You’re safe.” Ben nods his head, a terrified look still on his face. He pulls Ben in for a hug, kissing the top of his head, Ben’s small arms wrapping around Trent’s own. “How about I read you a story to help you fall asleep?”

Ben nods, jumping out of bed and getting a book for Trent. “Goodnight Lab?” Trent reads, a confused look on his face.

“Mommy likes science,” Ben offers as his explanation.

“Of course she does,” he says, opening the book, putting his arm around your son as Ben cuddles up against Trent’s chest. “In the great green lab, there was a laser, and a lab notebook, and a picture of Einstein with a stern look,” he starts, already seeing Ben’s eyes getting heavy.

You finally get back home, seeing the light on, no one in the living room. Wandering through your apartment, you hear Trent’s voice coming from Ben’s room, finding him there with your son, him asleep against Trent’s chest as he whispers the end of the book to him, “Goodnight liquid nitrogen, goodnight compressed air, goodnight scientists everywhere.”

You stand in the doorway, Trent not noticing you as he slips himself from Ben, your son curling up with his blankets. Trent bends down to kiss him on the head, tiptoeing out of the room.

“Hi,” you whisper, closing Ben’s door behind you, giving Trent a kiss hello. “What was that?”

“He had a nightmare, so I read him a story to calm him down and get him back to sleep,” he explains.

“That’s so sweet of you,” you tell him, leading him down the hall to your room.

He shrugs, closing the door behind you. “My mom used to do it for me and my siblings. I always told myself that I would do it for my son or daughter.” You don’t know what to say, just pulling him in for a kiss, down on your bed. He pulls away, a smile on his face, “Oh, and I love you too,” he tells you, hoping that Ben didn’t wake up and hear what you two were about to do next.

Sweet Emotion

“Happy birthday, Benny!” Trent says, taking a video of your son as he blew out the candle on the small cupcake in front of him. Your son’s fifth birthday was spent out with Trent, starting with him making breakfast again, taking the two of you to the park and Boston Commons as he played with Ben the entire time, out to dinner where you were now, treating you the entire way. Ben didn't even care about the gift that you had gotten from Andy, something he had previously looked forward to every year. Ben was starting to see Trent as a father figure, something that was both terrifying and exciting to you.

If Trent, for whatever reason, stopped wanting to be part of your life, that would mean he would also probably leave Ben’s, a boy who already didn’t know his father and didn’t seem to want to know him. But he wanted to know Trent, he loved Trent, and you knew Trent loved him, too. You were just afraid he would fall out of love.

Ben was giggling as Trent smashed part of the cupcake against his nose, the bright red frosting making him look like Rudolph as he tried, and failed, to lick it off himself.

“Did you get that part, too?” you ask Trent, leaning over to see his screen.

“Yeah, I’ll send it to you. Do you mind if I post it to my private story? Some of the guys and their wives would go crazy for this.”

“Only the private one,” you tell him, laughing as you turn to Ben to see his face more of a mess than before, the red frosting now spread to his cheeks, “Benny, what happened?”

“I’m painting,” he says, using his finger to smear the frosting on his face.

Trent can’t help but laugh, you pulling Ben in for a hug. Trent snaps a picture of you kissing the frosting off his face. “Wait a sec,” he says, calling over a waiter to take a picture of the three of you, both of you kissing Ben’s cheek as he beams at the camera.

You see him set his phone down, notifications lighting the screen up as you guys get ready to leave, the picture of the three of you his new phone background.

The next morning, Trent had morning skate before needing to get ready for their game that night. The last game before the All-Star Weekend marking the halfway point of the season was always both nerve-wracking and exciting, the hypothetical of ‘if the season ended today, would you be in or out of the playoffs?’ always on everyone’s mind even though it meant virtually nothing, but still wanting to stay at one of the top spots in the league regardless.

“Hey, what was with that story yesterday?” Jack asks him after practice.

“It was Ben’s birthday,” he shrugs.

“Isn’t it weird?” Zach asks. “She has a kid. She’s a mom. You aren’t a dad.”

“I never said I was his dad,” he defends himself, starting to take on a hostile tone.

“Well, you’re acting like his dad, aren’t you?”

Trent rolls his eyes as his only response. What was he supposed to do? Ignore that you have a child? Trent gets up to leave, Jack now standing in front of him to stop him.

“You’re with them all the time. You watch him when Y/N is busy. You brought them to family skate. You know his favorite toys, his favorite tv shows, you facetime them every night before the game because he’s going to be asleep by the time the game is over. You’re not his dad,” Jack lists to Trent, Trent getting more angry with every word that comes from his friend.

“What am I supposed to do? Pretend that Ben isn’t part of her life? Pretend that she has no kid? I can’t do that. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s messing with you, Trent!” Jack yells, the rest of the remaining guys getting quiet. “You don’t do this. You don’t date a girl who has a child and play ‘house’ with her. You’re the guy who just fucks around and has fun. Where did he go?”

“I can’t change? I can’t settle down because I wasn’t settled before?” Trent responds, knowing that his face was bright red, “I love Y/N, and I love Ben. I don’t care if you think it’s ‘not normal.’ It’s what I want and you don’t really get a say in that.” Jack stands there, stunned by his friends' words, still struggling to find them as Trent grabs his bag and walks out of the room to go home before the game.

He wanted to call you and talk about it with you, but what was he going to say? ‘The guys think my dating you is weird since you have a son?’ The flash of your expression appeared in his mind when you realized the guys didn’t know about Ben at family skate, the pain he knew you felt when you thought he was ashamed of Ben. He wasn’t then and he isn’t now.

But what was he doing? Jack was right: he wasn’t Ben’s dad. He could never really be Ben’s dad. Why did your son mean so much to him if he had no relation to the child in the first place?

Why did he have to say he was all in? He was supposed to be focusing on himself and his hockey, not a girl he met at a bar and pouring all his excess energy into you and your son. What was he supposed to do? Pull back? Pull you away from your son? There was no way that was going to be an option, and there was no way that was an option he wanted to follow.

He was supposed to be following his normal pre-game traditions and routines, not having his mind run rampant over the thought of you and Ben and what his teammates think.

He pulls out his phone, a notification from Instagram telling him that you had responded to his story a few hours ago while he was at practice. Trent opens it, seeing the picture of Ben, looking so happy with the cupcake that was all his, the red frosting seconds from being smeared all over his face. Trent didn’t think about being a dad anytime soon. He really never had any intention of settling down, at least not yet, not seriously, yet there he was, thinking of Ben like his own son, head over heels for you and your son.

It was too much, wasn’t it?

His phone started buzzing with texts from the guys to make sure that he was ok after they watched his and Jack’s blow up in the locker room. Trent didn’t even care about them at this point, knowing that he should at least answer them even just to tell them to leave him alone for the time being.

But what if they were right? Jack’s words kept ringing through his head, that he was just a guy who had fun because that’s what he wanted, not a guy who settled down with a girlfriend, and especially not a guy who settled down with a girl who had a toddler.

He spent the entire time he was supposed to be taking a nap going back and forth between whether or not he was in too deep or if he was fine because he was in love. The night he met you, he had never intended to get this far in with you. He had just wanted to hook up, the reason he went home with you in the first place. But as soon as you told him about Ben, seeing the crushed look on your face at the prospect of him leaving because of your son, he knew that he couldn’t just be one and done. There was something about you and Ben that he had to be part of it once he was introduced, that part of his life that he never knew was missing until he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you.

And it was just too much.

Attitude Adjustment

Trent finally gets to the Garden, not even remembering who they were playing that night. He couldn’t think about anyone else, almost tempted to tell Bruce that he was sick so he could be a late scratch instead of letting this mess with him. Because no matter what he did, he couldn’t get out of his head and focus. The music that he normally played before a game wasn’t working, even so much as trying to close his eyes and picture being on the ice while he was in the locker room before the game.

No one approached him while he was in his stall, probably out of fear of another outburst from him. He wasn’t even paying attention when Bergeron gave his traditional pre-game motivational speech before they all went out to the ice, Trent skating around by himself in hopes of being able to focus before they played the Flames that night.

“Alright, what’s going on?” he hears someone say, not even noticing who came up to him in the first place.

He looks at Brad, suddenly thankful that there was someone on the team who knew what he was going through. “Katrina already had Sloane when you two met, right?”

“Y/N and Ben on your mind?”

“You were in the locker room after practice.”

The two of them skate around their half of the ice, the time before the game ticking down. “When you date a woman, when any two people date, there’s always going to be something that can get in the way and potentially break you up. That includes their family, their kids if they have them. You need to decide if you want to let Ben break you and Y/N up or if you’re going to take him in and not let him do that.”

The guys were migrating back to the bench, Brad still on the ice for the starting lineup. “It worked for you, though,” Trent says, hanging back as long as he could, his eyes darting back and forth between the clock and his teammate.

Brad shrugs, looking out to the blue line where Bergeron and Pastrnak were already waiting. “I don’t see Sloane as any less of my son than I see Sawyer as my daughter. It worked for me. If you want it to work for you, then you have to make it work.”

The buzzer sounds, Bruce yelling for Trent to get off the ice and onto the bench. Did he want this to work with you and Ben? What the three of you had was already great, but Trent had barely spent any time with you, a time when you and he could just be a couple without worry of anyone else.

Trent’s line goes out on the ice, his mind still occupied as he skates. The puck touches his stick, him making a mad dash towards the Flames net, only to get tangled up with Tkachuk, sending Trent to the ice. He doesn’t get up for a minute, trying to process what happened, an easy shot and probably goal just messed up, leading to a breakaway to the other end to put the Flames up 1-0 against the Bruins.

By the time he can finally get himself up, Bruce is yelling at him that if he messes up like that again then he’s benched the rest of the game, definitely not a good look going into the All-Star break. He gets back out on the ice, the same thing happening with him tripping on a breakaway, this time over himself instead of a Flame, again leading to them scoring and putting them up 2-0. He couldn’t get out of his head. Trent sat there the entire time, not even focusing on the game, not focusing on the comeback his own team had to win the game 4-3.

He didn’t talk to anyone in the locker room, rushing out as soon as he could to go home, hearing Brad’s voice carry through the hallway to the elevators as he explained what he knew about the situation, no doubt that Jack offered his own remarks that Trent was sure would have lead to them fighting right there.

He had never wanted to fight one of his teammates over shit they said before, let alone one of his best friends. Other guys on other teams? Sure. But Jack?

Trent gets into his car, his phone already blowing up, asking him if he had still wanted to come on the trip to Puerto Rico he and the guys had planned with their girlfriends a while back. He had completely forgotten about the trip, no one even mentioning it for the longest time, not even sure that it was actually booked by anyone.

What surprised him most was Jack asking in the group if you were going to come with them, followed by a separate text saying that he meant it, that he wanted you to come.

Maybe this is what you and Trent needed; a trip with the guys, the two of you able to spend some time alone and just be with each other without the constant worry of someone or something else. He texted back that he would be there, not sure about you yet.

“Hello?” you answer your phone, Ben’s coming through the background. Hearing him made Trent hesitate, swallowing hard.”Trent?”

“Yeah, uh,” he swallows again, “Sorry, um, mind if I stop by for a few minutes?”

You sit up from the couch, looking at the mess you didn’t even realize Ben had created during the game. “Yeah, sure. I’ll see you soon?” you say, hearing him start up his car.

“Yeah, awesome,” he says, hanging up before either of you could say anything else, practically speeding out of the Garden as fast as he could to get to you. The more he thought about it, the more excited he was about spending a week with you.

“Hey, Benny, guess who’s coming over soon?” you put on a cheery voice, crouching down to the floor where Ben was playing with his toys.

Your toddler started bouncing up and down, his arms waving around in excitement. “Trent?” he squeals.

“He should be here any minute, help me pick up some of your toys, ok?”

You and Ben start to scramble to pick everything up. You knew Trent wouldn’t normally care if there were toys on the ground, but there was something about the tone of his voice when he called to tell you that he was stopping by that worried you.

You had watched the game, you weren’t stupid that he had had an awful game, thankful that it was an earlier evening game that Ben could watch with you. Even he was upset when Trent fell, both times, getting benched and hearing Jack and Brick speculate what was up with one of their favorite players.

Ben continued to buzz around as you waited, thankful that he couldn’t sense the anxiety that was building up while waiting for Trent. You hear him knocking on the door, getting up while Ben seems to be oblivious to the sound. You smile when you see him, mirroring his own expression, the complete opposite of what you expected given the conversation you had minutes ago.

“I have something to ask you,” he starts, his hands on your waist as he starts walking you backward down the hall, seemingly toward your bedroom.

“Trent! Trent!” Ben comes up to the two of you, bouncing up and down, Trent's hands releasing their grip on you. “Are you coming on Friday?” Ben asks him, referencing his concert at school that Trent had promised to come to.

You saw the smile on Trent’s face fade at Ben’s words, a nervous look taking over as he knelt down to look Ben in the eye. “I really want to see your concert, buddy, but I’m not sure if I can make it. I’m gonna try, though, ok?” he tries to save face when he sees the crushed look on your son’s face.

Ben nods, not understanding what Trent was really saying to him. In his world, Trent saying he wasn’t sure meant he didn’t want to see him sing with his other classmates. “Um, Ben, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit, ok?” you ask him, guiding him to his room, watching him run down the hall. You turn to your boyfriend, clearly confused by what he just told Ben. “It’s the All-Star break, what came up?”

“The guys and I are going away for the break, and I want you to come with me.”

“What are you talking about? You said you were staying here?” you ask him, praying that Ben doesn’t come out of his room and couldn’t hear any of this.

“I know, I know, but, come on, things change,” he says, taking your hand and trying to lead back down your hallway.

“Wait, Trent, come on,” you stop him, turning him around to face you. “You want Ben and I to come with you on a trip with the guys? What guys, where are you going?”

His expression drops again, “I was kinda hoping it would just be me and you.”

“And where would Ben be? I can’t just leave him alone. I can’t go away with you.”

“But, Y/N, come on,” he whines. “This could be so good for us. A few days, just you and me, no distractions, nothing stopping us from just being together, like a real couple.”

“Distractions? A real couple? Trent, what the,” you stop, realizing you were standing right outside of Ben’s door. You look between Trent and the door, Trent’s pleading expression as you take him down the hall, practically slamming the door to your own bedroom. “What the fuck are you talking about?” you hiss.

He sits on your bed, you still standing, towering over him. He puts his hands in his face, letting out a deep breath. “I’m,” he starts, “I just want time where it’s you and me. Other than that night at the bar, we almost never have had more than a few hours when you and I are alone. I need to get out of Boston for a bit, and I don’t want anyone with me beside you.”

“Trent, I can’t,” you protest, sitting down next to him.

“Yes, please, just say, yes.”

“No, Trent. You aren’t hearing what I’m saying.”

“I am, I just-”

“Ok, then you aren’t listening! I can’t just drop everything on a moment’s notice and go off with you on a vacation. I have a kid, and if you haven’t noticed, I can’t exactly afford a babysitter for more than two nights in a row, let alone watching him all day every day for an entire week.”

“Don’t worry, I can pay for one, I just need to get out of here, and I need you with me.”

“Trent, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Ben can stay with a sitter.”

“Don’t you get it? Ben comes first. Ben has to come first. When it comes to a decision between you and Ben, or anyone and Ben, my choice is always Ben. There is never a case when I’ll pick something or someone over him, especially not going on some trip with you and your frat boy-like teammates because you’re upset you had one bad game. I choose him every single time. Especially over you, Trent.”

“What about Ben’s father? Can’t he stay with Andy?”

You can’t help but gasp, hurt by what you thought Trent meant. “You mean the father that didn’t want him? I. Told you. This,” you say, standing up again, “Andy wants nothing to do with Ben. And right now it seems like neither do you.” You could feel the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, turning around and heading out of your room. You couldn’t look at him. You had no idea where you were going to go, given that you had Ben in his room and couldn’t leave him.

“Y/N, please, I’m sorry,” he runs after you, stopping you before you reached the door. “I just want a few days, where it’s you and me. Where everything is easy for us. Where there’s nothing, no one, besides you and me.”

“This isn’t supposed to be easy. You knew it wasn’t going to be so why are you so shocked that this is how it is?” you tell him, the tears finally falling.

The two of you stand there for a minute, Trent starting to reach for you a few times before running his hands through his hair. “It’s me and Ben, or neither of us,” you give him an ultimatum. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, wishing he can find the words. “Fine. If you can’t make the decision, I will. Get out.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“No. If you have to think about it, then you aren’t ‘all in,’” you call back to the morning after you two met. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t have to think about it.”

Trent doesn’t say another word, pushing past you and leaving you there.

You press your back against the door, letting out a silent sob so that Ben can’t hear you. This was exactly what you were afraid of, wiping the tears from your face and peeling yourself off the door. You walk down the hall, hoping that Ben wouldn’t notice the redness that was probably in your eyes from crying, opening his door.

“Where’s Trent?” Ben asked, handing you a toy of his when you sit down on his floor with him.

You swallow hard, not sure what to really tell him. “He had to go, Benny,” you say, running your hand on his hair, pulling him close to kiss the top of his head.

“When’s he coming back, Mommy?”

You put on a fake smile for him, not wanting to let him know when you really thought Trent would be back. “I don’t know, sweetie. Not this week.”

I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing

You hadn’t checked anyone’s story on Instagram since last night, sitting on the metal chairs in the middle of the day, surrounded by parents much older than you, figuring now was probably the only time you hate the chance.

You tap through them, some stories from friends from college, random celebrities that you followed. You finally get to Jack’s story from last night. They were in Puerto Rico, in some dark restaurant. Zach and Jeremy were dancing, Jack behind the camera. In the corner, you could see Trent sitting at a table, looking miserable. He sees Jack with his camera, shakes his head and storms off. You replay the story, Jack’s shaking making you think that he was saying something and turning the sound on low, holding the phone to your ear. You could hear the music more than anything else, sounds of Zach, Jeremy, and Jack’s laughter breaking through after one of them said something inaudible. Trent must have gotten up at that point, because you hear Jack yell, “Oh, Trent! Come on, man! Have some fun!”

You go to Trent’s profile, hoping that he had posted anything. The last photo he has posted was of the two of you, him strategically cropping out Ben because you had asked him to. It was from Ben’s birthday, outside the restaurant. He had captioned it, ‘Spent the day with my two favorite people, Bear not shown.’

Ben’s preschool teacher gets up on the stage, the high-pitched whispers of the four- and five-year-olds starting by the back door as Ms. Barry introduces the class, all of them walking up in a line to the stage. They start waving to their parents, Ben waving to you as everyone, including you, has their phone out waving back and recording the moment. The children start singing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,’ their pixie-like voices filling the auditorium, all slightly out of key and slightly out of sync with each other. Towards the end of the song, you notice Ben starting to jump up and down, anxious over something he saw towards the back of the auditorium, as did some of the other children. You figured it was nothing, none of the other parents turning around to look at what it was either.

They go onto their next song, one you weren’t paying attention to, nor did you recognize it. Ben was no less antsy than he was before, waving again with the biggest smile on his face. It had to be someone.

You turn around, Trent leaning against the back wall, one hand in his pocket while the other was waving to Ben. All of his attention was on Ben. You turn back in your seat, shocked that he was there. He was supposed to be in Puerto Rico.

You put your bag on the seat, the mom next to you promising to watch it. You sneak back to Trent, not sure what to say to him. You turn to Ben, giving him the thumbs up and a single finger to tell him that you were going to be back in a second, feeling bad that you were leaving your so. Ben jumps up and down, nodding and continuing to sing.

You grab Trent, pulling him out of the room and into the small hallway. “What are you doing here? You were in Puerto Rico last night; I saw you on Jack’s story.”

He looks down at his feet, biting his bottom lip. “I couldn’t be there knowing you and Ben were here.”

“That’s not what you said when you wanted to go.”

He nods, looking up at you for a second before his eyes flick back down to his feet. “I told you I was dumb.”

“So why are you here then?”

“I told you when we first met that I was all in. I can’t be all in if I’m not here.”

“So?”

He takes a step closer to you, hesitating for a moment. “So. I don’t want to miss anything with you, or with Ben.” You don’t know what came over you, kissing him outside your son’s concert the way you did. You can hear the parents start to cheer, signaling that the concert was finished. Trent pulls away, your foreheads pressed against each other. He smiles before stealing a kiss again, pulling you back inside.

Ben comes running up to you, giggling with his arms open. “Trent!”

“Benny Bear!” he responds, crouching down with his arms open, hugging Ben when he came in contact. He picks him up, kissing him on the cheek, your hand on Trent’s back.

“You came! You’re back!” Ben squeals, burying his face in Trent’s shoulder.

“Back and here to stay,” he says to you, giving you a quick kiss before putting Ben down, getting your bag, and going home.

#trent frederic #trent frederic imagines #boston bruins #bruins imagines #boston bruins imagines #bruins #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines #aerosmith fic

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kiryuun-blog · 3 years

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Attack on School Caste ep 4 english translation (Attack on titan drama CD)

Here’s the english translation of the 4th and last episode of the drama CD “Attack on School Caste”. Kind of sad it’s over but it was fun to translate ! Also, I’ve uploaded on my Youtube channel all of the episodes subbed, so check it out: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCQXkQAha6FpPBkUTg1qB9rA/featured

Translation below:

After spending some time together, and confronting each other several times, they ended up exposing little by little their real personalities. And after they divulgated the reasons why they were in detention, they opened up about their worries and dreams.

A: The reason why I ended up in detention is only known to some of the teachers, and I haven't talked to anyone about it. If it was known, it would be a big problem. J: What the hell did you do ? A: To tell you the truth...with this laptop, World-kun, I created a pirate anime site. R: What ?! A pirate anime site ? I can't believe that. Well, I heard that around Somalia there were pirates, but to think that there was one in our school...and that you tainted your hands with that kind of business, using anime... H: Reiner, it's fine if you don't know about it but there's no need to be that surprised. R: Sorry... H: A pirate site is one that illegally uploads anime, and that is a crime. J: So that's the kind of site where you can watch anime without spending a penny, huh. R: I see. That's definitely not forgivable. M: A complete evil which no one can prevent. A: Yeah...you're right. Not only it's an infringement to copyrights, but it also infringes the rights of all the staff that worked hard to produce these animes. It's the worst, it also tramples on the audience that loves these animes. J: And why did you do that kind of thing ? A: Because I'm someone like that ! I'm made fun of at school for being a geek, I'm not good at sports and I'm not even good at studying, and I don't have a lot of friends. I'm a grandpa's kid and weak, and I can't even tell others what I want. I'm just a pathetic and worthless geek. And that's because I'm this kind of guy that I wanted to, at least, shine on the net ! At the beginning, it was just a site where I recommended my favorite animes, but then, the views increased and I was thanked in the comments, so I wanted even more popularity and started to upload illegally episodes. And one day I realized that it ended up being a complete illegal site. I couldn't bring myself to stop... R: When did you realize it was bad ? A: My friend, Marco, warned me, saying that this was a complete crime. And, in order to stop me, he talked about it with the teachers. J: Huh, so he snitched. That sounds like what a serious ass like him would do. A: But thanks to Marco, I finally realized what I was doing. So that's why I immediately closed the site and it didn't become a serious problem. Well, I ended up in detention though. J: To think that you were a potential criminal. H: That's not a potential criminal, but a criminal indeed. M: One's outward appearance and one's real identity is completely different. Once the mask is removed, the truth shows its face. R: And I thought that you were just an otaku... A: Even someone like me has things I want to do and dreams...One day, I want to go to Akihabara, the sanctuary of anime ! Neons illuminating the high buildings, and posters of my favorite anime characters plastered everywhere...the sanctuary I'm yearning for ! A market so wide and deep that even if the geeks from all over the world were to assemblate, they wouldn't be able to buy everything ! When I was administrating that site, I felt that I was able to touch a little that world... But in truth, I was just drowning in the deep sea of the net... R: Dreams, huh. Up till now, I never even thought about that. H: Are you serious ?! Didn't you want to become a football player ? M: What about those titanic muscles...and that robust body...? R: Those were obtained after training regularly. But that was not because I wanted to become a football player. H: Then, why ? R: It's because I wanted to be acclaimed as an excellent sportsman and obtain a scholarship. J: Ha, what's with that. Such a petty reason ! R: Well, I was brought up by my mother only. It's already tough to let me go to school. I was born in a country beyond the sea. When I was young, my mother and father separated, and me and my mother moved here. After that, there were only hardships. It was tough to only feed ourselves in a foreign land. I want to provide for my mother and let her rest, that's what I always thought. J: H-huh ! After calling me a mother complex, you're not one to say ! R: Yeah, you're right. If I did my best in the football team, it was to make my mother happy. I trained myself everyday, in order to obtain this armor-like body, and even became the captain. And even for my caste, I became the president of the clubs, and volunteered for cleaning garbage, I gained popularity with the students and took special attention of the teacher's moods. I did all I could. And I finally became the jock. A: So you suffered a lot too... H: And why someone like you ended up in detention ? R: On the last physics exams, I had some difficulties... H: So you didn't pass ? R: Y-yeah...that's right. But, no, what I want to say is that...I scored 0 points. J: 0 points ?! For real ?! You must be lying, even I scored 17 points ! R: To tell you the truth...I'm really hopeless with studying. No matter how much I try, I never do well, and up until now, I've managed to barely pass. And physics is my worst enemy. I don't understand a single thing. Like you all said, maybe even my brain has become only muscles. A: But even so, 0 points...? R: That day, during the exam...I lost sight of myself. Until that moment, I always thought that I wanted to let my mother rest, and she has big expectations. In order to meet those expectations, I became the jock, the captain of the football team, the president of all the clubs, and I had to always be strong and right. And when I thought "do I have any dreams of my own ?" "do I have something I really want to do ?", my mind went completely blank, and without realizing, the exam was already over. I couldn't write anything other than my name. J: Well...that explains the score. R: But, even without that happening, it would still have been hard to score more than 10. Armin, before, I said that you were miserable, but, like Jean said, it was me, who has no dreams of his own, that was miserable. A: N-no...that's not true, you're doing your best aren't you ? H: After all, you were just a king in name. That's so stupid. J: Hey ! You don't have to say it like that ! H: It's already great that his mother has expectations of him. Unlike him, no one cares about me, and that includes my own parents. Laughable, isn't it ? R: Hey, Historia, you're a rich lady, there's no way what you say is true ! H: Here's the problem. Just because I’m crazy rich and the cutest, not only in this school but in the entire state, everyone's spoiling me. But no one cares about the real me. J: Huh, that's some luxury ! H: And what do you think you know, Jean ? What do you know, you, who has a mother kind and loving enough to bring your lunch to school just because you forgot it ? I only picked up some fruits that were left on the table. My parents never cared about my lunch. And we never eat together, the last time we ate dinner together was when I was five. They leave my care to the butler, and only see me as a tool for the succession of the family. R: But they're your parents...there's no way they think like that ! H: No, I'm only a tool, and a doll. I've been raised as a rich lady, with disinterested parents, and then I'll marry with a dull man who only has reputation, then give birth to a child and success this house. My parents, teachers and the people surrounding me at school, they're all stupid ! I'm fed up ! School caste ? Queen bee ?! What does that even mean ! A: I understand the situation...but you must have things you want to do, right ? If so- H: Are you really in a position to say that, Armin ? A: Huh ? What do you mean ? H: I also like japanese anime ! I can't help it ! Shugo Chara and Sugar Sugar Rune, they're all the best ! And I'm so envious of your bento box of Maji Moji Rurumo ! I want to go to Akihabara and Ikebukuro and buy all the goods I want ! Armin, you said it, right ? That even if geeks from all over the world couldn't buy everything. But that's not true ! If it's me, I can do it ! With the assets of the Reiss family, I can buy it all ! But I can't ! That's all because I have to be the queen everywhere I go ! I can't like anime ! A: Historia... H: I ended up in detention because I tried to steal an anime magazine, and I got caught. Of course, I had the money. I could have even bought 100 copies of it. But I couldn't let anyone see me buying it. So, I had no other choice but to steal it. J: Being the queen is quite burdening, huh... H: One day, I want my parents to look at the real me. I just want to have fun with real friends and talk about anime. Maybe it's a small thing, but I think that's my dream. I doubt that you all would understand me though. M: That's right, there's no way I would understand. J: Hey, you don't have to say it like that ! M: But, I am aware of the fact that I cannot understand you. You and I are completely different, and we don't live with the same worries. However, it doesn't change the fact that we are together in this darkness. H: Mikasa...how did you end up in detention ? M: After school in an empty classroom, I tried to perform a ritual to summon the goat-faced devil, Baphomet, who has the power to destroy this world and engulf it in flames. And I got caught by the History teacher. J: Ha ! Are you serious ? You should know when to stop with that persona of yours. M: I don't want to hear that from you. J: Well, my apologies ! But that's the truth, isn't it ? It's just a persona. H: Why are you a goth, Mikasa ? Do you really like gothic things ? Or is there another reason that you ended up in this caste ? M: It is...to have perfect control of myself. J: Huh ? What do you mean ? M: Before, I was a normal student. I didn't belong neither to light, neither to darkness, just a normal person. I had a friend, and lived nonchalantly. I had no complaints towards that kind of life. But one day, my friend went up a caste higher. And after that, that friend began to avoid me. R: They didn't want to mingle with a lower caste, huh... H: Well, that does happen often. M: Yes, it's a common story. But to me, that was an unbearable shock. That's when I realized, that this world is cruel. So, I have to have perfect control over myself in order to keep on fighting... J: And that's how you became a goth ? That escalated quickly ! That's crazy ! M: No, occult and curses are helpful to strengthen one's soul. Thanks to that, I managed to remain myself. Also, since I'm asian and my hair is black, it goes well with black clothes. H: It's true that it suits you. M: Also, goth is a caste that isn't bothered by others as much as other castes. If I keep on being immersed in my own world, no one talks to me. It's not that I'm avoided by others, but I do things so that they avoid me. I can think of it that way. R: So, you chose solitude ? M: I want to become stonger. I have to be strong. And one day, I'll become a strong woman like a fearless dark knight. J: Well...you don't have to be that stubborn, don't you think ? And right now, you're talking with everyone just fine. Who knows, you might make another friend ? M: I don't need that. J: Don't say that ! The six of us, who didn't have anything to do with each other, opened up and all ! R: Hey, wait a minute, Jean. J: What ? You want to be in charge again, is that it ? R: No, did you say the six of us ? A: Eren hasn't said a thing yet... E: Huh, me ? J: Don't "huh, me ?" me ! Take part to the conversation ! E: I did listen to you all. I went to the toilet twice though. J: Always about the toilet...what are you, an old man ?! E: I know right, to say the truth, I'm a little concerned about that... My organs may have some problems. Everyone, how frequently do you go to the toilet ? How about you, Historia ? H: Me ?? J: What's with you, Eren ?! No one wants to talk about that ! A: H-hey, Eren...why did you end up in detention ? E: I'm not sure, but I think it's because I skipped the History exam. R: So you skipped, huh. Are you bad with History ? Or, do you have any worries that you can't say to people ? E: Not really, I just forgot about it. When Mr. Smith talked to me about it, that's when I remembered. H: So, is that not because of worries, but because you couldn't think of anything else other than your dreams ? E: Not at all. I really just forgot about it. I don't have any dreams. M: It's complete nought, and thoroughly normal. E: Is that bad to be normal ? I don't really love or hate this world, and I don't have particular worries or dreams. I really don't care about school castes either. Even so, I'm living normally everyday. R: Well, that's true. H: Everyone's worries are different after all... M: Everything comes in all colors. So many men, so many minds. A: Why is it that even though everyone carries its own worries, we all become the same adults...? M: That's because everyone loses to something, and ends up giving up. H: We become arrogant and showy adults, full of deception, huh... A: Hey, in truth, there was something I was thinking about. I know it's weird to ask that, but, when we meet again in school on Monday, what should we do ? J: Huh ? R: What do you mean ? A: We are...friends, right ? H: Do you mean to ask if we should keep up our relationship, where we can talk freely to each other just like now ? A: Yeah. H: Do you really want me to answer ? A: I want to hear it. H: I'll ignore you. A: Is that so... M: Do you mean only Armin, or everyone here ? H: Everyone. I'll pretend that I never met you all. Well, I don't mind Reiner though. R: That's some attitude here. But you like anime, right ? You could talk about it all you want with Armin ! H: Ha, there's no way I could. And that's the same for you, Reiner. When you're with people from the football club, what would you do if Armin, wearing an anime t-shirt and carrying a bento box of Maji Moji Rurumo, went to you and spoke to you ? R: Well, that's... H: Even though you could exchange a few words with him, you would go back to saying bad things about him when he's gone, right ? "What's with that otaku, even though he's a geek, he has the gall to talk to me !" for example. R: I'll never do that, and I don't even sound like that ! H: Then what about that, "Hey, Armin. Everyone, let me introduce my new friend.", would you introduce him to your friends like that ?! They'll just end up mocking you. And without a fault, you'll lose your position as a jock ! Are you fine with that ? Even though you did so much to gain that title- R: Stop that, Historia ! J: Cut that crap... H: You two are liars and hypocrites ! Jean, could you introduce Armin to your delinquent friends ? Could you cosplay as a character from Twilight with Mikasa and go to a party ? J: Shut up ! H: You can't, right ?! There's no way you could ! I'm just being honest. I can't be on good terms with you all ! And why ? Because our castes are different ! A: Then...it's better to be a geek like me. Even if people call me weird, I don't have to care about my surroundings and avoid my friends... M: Armin's right. A: And you, Mikasa ? Would you avoid me if I were to talk to you ? M: No. A: Even if you're with other friends ? M: I don't have any other friends. Even if I had, they wouldn't hate you. J: Mikasa... A: Let me say that, I won't ever avoid anyone here ! That would be too mean. H: Say what you want. I'm different than you, because I'm the queen...the most popular girl in school ! I can't walk alongside with you ! J: I'm astonished...how conceited can you be ? H: I'm not conceited ! It's the truth ! It's because it's the truth that it hurts ! Do you know anything about my pressure ?! The pressure of having to be a good girl at home and at school ! I have to smile all the time to be loved by everyone ! I have to make fun of the anime that I like the most ! I'm fed up with all that ! R: Historia, that's enough ! H: No, it's not ! Nothing's fine ! There's no way it is... E: Hey, sorry to interrupt, but... H: What ? J: What, Eren ? A: Does something bother you ? Feel free to say it. M: You can open up about everything. E: Can I go to the toilet ? J: You...cut it out ! H: How about you try read the room ?? Why do you even ask us permission ! E: If I go on my own, Jean's gonna complaint about it...that's really bothersome. M: Even though he's normal, he's the weirdest... E: Really ? I think it's pretty normal. I just go to the toilet more often that everyone. H: Hah...that's so stupid. J: We were the ones at fault for believing you would say something serious. A: How about you just write your essay in the toilet ? E: Huh ? I don't want to. R: Come to think of it, I completely forgot about the essay. H: We should finish it first. M: Once again, we are back to the cruel reality. J: Let's just do it. A: Yeah. R: Okay everyone, let's finish it quickly and go home. J: Don't you try to be in charge of everything again ! E: Then, I'm going to the toilet. *bell ringing* E: It's finally over. J: I'm so tired. R: We finished just in time. M: We are finally freed from that cage. H: After all it was not impossible huh. Well, as expected of us. A: You all made me write in your place though... L: What, so you're finally going home ? J: Yeah ! R: Mr Levi, thanks for your work. L: Well, that is my work after all. Leaving that aside, what happened ? Your expressions changed since I last saw you. H: Is that so ? I was just having detention, with those five weirdos. M: That's what I want to say. A: Historia was the most surprising, right ? H: Huh ? Did you say something ? A: No, nothing ! L: Whatever. But if you've finished, then hurry and go home. You're going to dirty the floor. R: Mr Levi's right. Let's go home quickly, drink proteins and do some training. A: My World-kun's battery is running low. J: What about you, Mikasa ? Do you have someone to pick you up ? If not, then I don't mind walking you home... M: Huh ? H: Oh my, a bad boy being kind to a goth, what a sight ! J: Shut up ! That doesn't matter ! Right, Eren ? E: What ? J: The castes ! E: That kind of thing doesn't matter. J: Haha ! See ! *everyone laughing*

That is how the six who belonged to different castes, while carrying their own worries and dreams, went home, with the same bright mood. Meanwhile, the History teacher Erwin was in the library, checking their essays.

Er: Hm. "Mr. Smith, thinking about what we all did, it was a given that we ended up in detention. However, the theme "Who I am" was so stupid that it made us want to throw up. This school fixed upon us statuses like the "bad boy", "queen bee", "jock", "geek", "goth" and...the "normal person". Nevertheless, we will keep on moving forward. Without caring about other's expectations, we will do as our hearts please, and this world, this school caste...You will probably say that it isn't the right path, but still, it will surely connect to a future. To a future decided by none other than us."...they're really idiots to the end.

Erwin left with a mysterious laugh. The evening sun illuminated the empty library through the window, and their essay was left there, dyed in gold, like the sun was shining upon their hopes.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on school caste #attack on school castes #snk drama cd #aot drama cd #my translation #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #armin arlert #reiner braun #historia reiss #Jean Kirschtein #levi ackerman #Erwin Smith

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carelesscreativity · 3 years

Text

CrossDust Bad Night for CrazyThings: Commission for Ko-Fi

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(SFW, Fluff, Angst)

As XGaster reached for him, Cross could feel his soul being ripped from his chest. The sound of knocking saved Cross, startling him awake from his nightmare. He sat in his bed for a moment, panting and trembling. He was gripping the sheets tightly, aware of tears running down his face.

He screwed his eyes shut and quickly wiped them with his sleeve. It was so dark. He could see just a faint hint of moonlight through his window. He wasn’t back there. He was in Nightmare’s castle. He was in his room. He wasn’t in that other place.

Chara was still asleep. Lucky bastard. He could see their ghostly form sitting with their arms crossed in a chair. The knocking came again. Cross blinked and slipped out of bed, shaking quietly. He moved over to the door, reaching out and resting his hand on the doorknob. He knew who it was. It wasn’t Horror or Error and Killer would’ve come barging in anyways. Nightmare made it a point not to come to their rooms. Cross took a deep breath and opened the door.

Dust’s glowing eyes met his from under his hood. He wasn’t having a good time right then, Cross could tell. Dust’s arms were tightly hugging himself and he was quivering ever so slightly. There was the whispering that always followed him. He had never met another who could see his ghosts, but Dust appeared to see Chara just fine. Cross could also see the thing that followed Dust around and he was not too thrilled about it.

He could see the ghostly, gloved hands on Dust’s shoulders and the whispering grew louder, Dust inhaling shakily as he screwed his eyes shut. Cross reached out and guided Dust into the room, quietly shutting the door before pulling him into a hug. Dust clung to him desperately and Cross let out a soft sigh, rubbing his back. In the beginning, he wasn’t sure why Dust would come to him.

Maybe it was because Cross could see what he was dealing with. Cross wasn’t entirely sure. But he also knew that, as the new guy, he didn’t think he could safely tell the most unstable and unpredictable member of his team ‘no.’ He blinked as he heard Dust whispering that it hurt and he wanted it to stop. Cross’s shoulders sank a little and he tried to assure him it was okay.

Dust continued on in his monotonous voice, though whenever he would slightly pull back, Cross could see tears running down his face. “Everything’s always achin’... they never stop talkin’... he never stops...” Cross felt Dust’s hands curling into his shoulders. His stained hands had freaked Cross out the first time he’d seen them. Now, he slid his own hands up to hold them. “I had to, y’know...? I had to do it... if I didn’t, the kid woulda and it woulda never ended...”

Dust’s voice was choked up and Cross gave a weak nod. “It woulda just kept goin’ and goin’...” His body sparked as he slightly raised his voice. “I couldn’t take it anymore!” Cross jumped and murmured that he knew, holding Dust against him again. He buried his face against the side of Dust’s head, murmuring that he didn’t have to worry about it anymore. Dust whispered that he couldn’t stop.

Cross’ hands moved to gently grip his shoulders, pushing him back a little. Dust flinched, immediately apologizing before stopping as Cross pressed their teeth together. It was a sweet and tender kiss. It was only a moment long, but a moment was all it needed for Dust’s body to relax against Cross. He pulled back and his hands moved up to Dust’s cheeks. The other was trembling, his face slightly purple. For a moment, it almost amused Cross because their faces were matching.

He would only ever show this side to Cross. Times where his trauma didn’t make him freak out and explode in a whirlwind of LV and pain. Times where he could only tremble and listen, forcing himself to be quiet so he didn’t wake anyone as the voices in his head grew constantly louder. It was a side that Cross hadn’t expected and it had hit a soft spot in him, knowing he had experienced the same thing in the void of Xtale.

No one in the castle knew about their relationship. Well, Cross was sure Nightmare did, but the boss never said anything. During the day, Cross and Dust were as distant and uninterested in each other as could be. Not even a glance in the other’s direction. It was nighttime when they were close. Whenever one of them was having a bad night, they would seek the other out and stay with them until morning.

Cross became aware of small trickles of powder falling from under Dust’s hood and he sighed softly. He hooked his thumbs on either side of Dust’s hood and the other froze up, looking up at him. Cross quietly asked if it was okay to take his hood off. Dust stared at him a moment longer and Cross felt his uneasiness grow. As close as they were, Dust was still prone to freaking out and attacking, regardless of whatever relationship he had with the monster closest to him.

Dust finally blinked and closed his eyes, looking down as he nodded. Cross murmured that he would be careful, slipping the hood back. He knew Dust didn’t like taking off his hood because he felt exposed and vulnerable without it. As the hood moved back, Dust was heard hissing softly as Cross’ hands ghosted over the sides of his skull. Cross paused and one of his hands lit up purple, illuminating the entire room in a soft violet glow.

“Dust...” He couldn’t stop his dismayed whisper as he saw the marks scored into the side of Dust’s skull, most likely inflicted by his own fingers. They were letting off small particles of dust every time he twitched. Dust wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m gonna heal these, okay?” Dust wouldn’t say anything but gave a weak nod. Cross felt his soul drop a little. He began to seal up each mark, his thumb running over them and zipping them up.

Dust had closed his eyes, trembling as Cross healed him. Cross knew better than to ask why Dust would do that to himself. He figured Dust would tell him on his own. He finished healing that side, gently tipping Dust’s head as he moved the glow to his other hand. The other side of Dust’s skull was just as bad, small flakes drifting down from there as well. Cross couldn’t help his weak sigh as he began to heal that side as well.

Dust winced and his hand raised to grip Cross’ other wrist, the soldier’s hand having moved down to cup his cheek. “It’s almost over, don’t worry...” Cross whispered softly. He sealed up the last cut and pressed their foreheads together. The glow of his hands disappeared, plunging them both back into that near darkness.

“My head hurts... he won’t stop... it hurts...” Dust’s whimpers made Cross ache. The crazed skeleton’s eyes were still screwed shut and Cross closed his own as well, trying to listen to the faint whisper of the ghostly Papyrus talking to Dust. He could hear him berating Dust and telling him he’d grown too attached. That he was an idiot for being attached and that it would make him weak.

“Don’t fucking talk to him like that, Papyrus.” Saying that name in such a vehement tone always messed with Cross, but he was sick of hearing the bullshit the ghostly bobble head would constantly spew at the other. Dust seemed startled as he twitched open his eyes. Cross moved his other hand to his cheek. “Don’t listen to him. It pisses me off that he speaks to you like that.”

Before Dust could open his mouth to say anything, Cross continued, his brow furrowed. “You are one of the strongest monsters I’ve ever met. Being attached will NOT make you weaker. If anything, you’re stronger because you have others to rely on. A team.” Cross insisted. Dust didn’t seem to know what to say. “And I can’t just stand by, listening to HIM feed you blatant LIES.”

The whispering had become feverish and dangerous. Dust twitched and furrowed his brow, staring forward. Cross knew that Dust was struggling to listen to both of them at once before he finally hissed, his magic crackling. “SHUT UP, Paps.” He snarled. The whispering went oddly silent and Dust inhaled weakly. He began to apologize, but Cross stopped him with another kiss, Dust melting into it.

Cross pulled back after another moment with a stern look. “Don’t apologize to him.” He said firmly, his cheeks still a little flushed. “He doesn’t deserve it.” Dust twitched before his stained hands moved up and he slipped his arms around Cross’ neck. He pressed their teeth together again, Cross’ own arms resting around Dust’s hips. Cross pressed back against Dust, keeping himself contained to small, soft kisses. Both of their faces were glowing.

They hadn’t moved from in front of the closed doorway. Cross pulled back and his hands moved up to cup Dust’s cheeks, asking quietly if he could move them both to the bed. He jumped as Dust teleported them, both landing on their sides, staring at each other. “I guess that’s a yes.” Cross said, a little startled. Dust gave a dry exhale, something that Cross could almost call a laugh.

Cross sighed. “I was having a nightmare too when your knocking woke me up.” Dust blinked and looked up at him in surprise. “It was about him.” Dust knew exactly who Cross was talking about and he gave a low growl. Cross reached out, rubbing his cheek as he mumbled that it was okay. “He was about to rip my soul from my body and then you woke me up. So... thank you, for that...” Cross gave a weak scoff and a smile.

Dust stared at him before nodding, turning his gaze away as the purple glow of his cheeks spread a little more. “No problem...” He mumbled softly. Cross stared at him. Even when he’d been terrified of Dust, he couldn’t help but be drawn to those magnificent eyes. He reached out and Dust blinked, twitching as he glanced at his hand. He reached out with his own, intertwining their fingers.

He looked back at Cross quizzically, wondering if that was what he had wanted. He blinked and flushed as Cross gave a soft laugh. “That works too, I guess. I was trying to snag you to come closer, but we can do this too.” Dust quickly pulled his hand back, apologizing as he turned his face away. Why did he always mess these things up?? Had it been that long since anyone had shown him genuine care and affection? It must’ve been.

He twitched, his magic crackling as he jumped a little in surprise. Cross had moved closer to him instead, keeping Dust close to him as he wrapped his arms around him. Dust stared ahead for a moment before his mind instinctively checked Cross, staring at his stats. Cross allowed Dust to do so, loosening his grip. Dust stared at the LV and EXP. He had Cross close enough that it would be a painless death. But he didn’t WANT to.

Of course, that had never been a solid reason before, so he had to convince himself some other way. He had to convince Papyrus, who was still oddly silent. “I don’t need it.” Dust whispered quietly in a droning, monotonous voice. Cross blinked and watched as Dust seemed to disperse his stats screen. He stared down at him, feeling pride. Dust seemed to notice and his face flushed purple.

He hated when Cross smiled at him like that, because it would make him feel warm and bubbly in his soul. A feeling that he didn’t think he deserved. He didn’t think he deserved this kind of treatment. His eyes had become unfocused and Cross stared at him before hugging him closer and giving him a soft squeeze. Dust made a soft noise and refocused, looking up at him.

“Why don’t we go to sleep, okay? If it makes you feel better, I’ve never had a nightmare while sleeping next to you.” Dust stared at him before nodding. That did make him feel better because he was the same. Cross seemed to make everything better. He considered speaking to Cross during the day. Even something as simple as a greeting. They practically ignored each other during the day. The thought made him cling to Cross a little tighter.

He became aware of a hand rubbing circles on his back and his spine relaxed, his bones sinking into the mattress as he tried to keep his eyes open. He was comfortable here. Normally, it would take him another few hours to fall asleep on his own. It was because he felt safe here. His body knew it didn’t need to stay awake if it was safe. His eyesockets fluttered again.

“You can sleep, Dust. It’s okay.” Cross’ voice was quiet and soothing. Dust blinked and gave a weak nod, moving himself closer and tucking himself against Cross, tangling their legs together. The soldier seemed momentarily surprised before accepting it. Dust’s eyes finally closed and his breathing was soft as he laid against Cross’ chest.

Cross was watching the other’s chest, able to see his ribcage illuminated through his shirt. Dust’s soul was glowing in time with his breathing. He was in awe at how much LV it must have had to glow like that. It would light up with every inhale, only to dim back down with every exhale. It was a truly beautiful sight. He blinked as he heard an irritated sigh.

Cross looked up to meet Chara’s unamused eyes. He stared back coldly. “What?” He asked, his voice full of challenge. He dared Chara to say anything about this. The child stared at him before muttering that it was nothing. Just that Cross looked like a lovesick puppy dog. Cross rolled his eyes. He didn’t care if Chara insulted him, but he would be livid if they said anything about Dust. He turned to look at Dust and scoffed.

Lovesick puppy dog, huh? He looked back up at Chara and shrugged, speaking in an unbothered, nonchalant voice. “Woof.”

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