overdoser

ive been crying for over 6 hours now this is my only skill

all right everybody, here's the plan: we stay home and panic

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write a fic where... alicia and bob are very parenty toward jack. because I live for the zimmermanns.

set very early during Jack’s freshman year

Jack phones buzzes. Again. 

He glares at it until it stops. Then turns back to his eggs. 

Of course, then it starts up. Again.

That makes the fifth time this morning. And it’s only 10am. 

“Holy shit, Zimmermann,” Mark Winger says, unnecessarily loud. Mark Winger is always unnecessarily loud. And since he is sitting three seats down from Jack, the rest of the table goes silent. “Who the fuck is texting you?”

Jack feels his face heat up. It’s only the second week of practice and it’s weird because he doesn’t know these people but they all know him–or at least they know enough. They know he was good at hockey and then fucked it all up and they know who his dad is and his mom and they know because everyone knows and he…

He is not used to being the new guy. He doesn’t remember the last time he was the new guy. At least, not the new guy on a hockey team. And sure he’s good but also crazy and they know it and it just makes him feel tight and unsure and–

“No one,” Jack says when it becomes clear people actually expect him to answer. (God he wishes they wouldn’t do that. Just let him sit quietly. Play hockey. Not talk). 

His phone buzzes again. He glances at the screen. 

“Brah, no one has texted you like 18 thousand times,” Dave Cohen says. His tone is a bit nicer but the question still stands. 

“It’s just my parents,” Jack finally mumbles. He shovels a huge bite of eggs in his mouth to try and stave off any other questions. 

“Awww, does little Zimms need to check in with his mama and papa?” Winger says and the mood shifts. Jack sees some people frown but some of the other boys are annoyed that he is here, he knows it, and ribbing is pretty much a part of hockey culture so he should have some sort of come back to this and it’s somehow even more embarrassing that he is older than some of these boys but still a freshmen and a fuck-up and he doesn’t–

“Aw, shit man,” a voice comes and Jack glances to his left to see one of the walk-ons called Shitty sliding into the seat next to him. “You just wish Alicia Zimmermann was texting you on the regular. Dude, you must know you have no chance with that ugly fucking face of yours.”

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