#no more finishing big WIPs for me right as seasonal blues season hits okay I did this with fucking Milk Run last year too

[charmwasjess]

ughhh writing is so fucking hard for me right now and it's pissing me off

[jinterlude]

Mik’s Follow Forever

↳ Resource Credits: Seokjin | Floral PNG 

Hi and hello everyone! Wow. Can we just take a moment to appreciate that we survived the shit storm that is 2020? Ranging from the pandemic to politics to social injustice happening around the world, we manage to stay resilience to the say the least. With that said, I wanted to finally acknowledged that I hit a big milestone as of November (?) or was it September (?) [I don’t even know anymore LOL😂]! Before I get into my letters underneath this cut, I wanted to say from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for following me! Even though, I post once in a blue moon, and my blog is run on queue 24/7, you still hit that follow button! For that, thank you so much for giving my blog a chance, whether it’s for the multi-fandom content I reblog or my very own creations, something made you stay 💙 Alright let’s get to the personal letters 💌 

To Jey @softjeon : 

Jey. Honestly, where do I begin with you? The End. Just kidding! Damn. I can’t believe you’re one of my oldest friend on this website. We have had our ups and downs, but our friendship always manages to come out strong in the end. You and I always manage to be on the same wavelength in terms of story telling, talking about everything and anything, or just shooting some random ass, extreme ideas that manage to go to the WIP pile in our brains. While, we do not talk as frequently as we used to (I blame school + internship on that part), I just know that I can always go to your DMs whenever I need someone to talk to or if I want to randomly bug you. You my hardworking queen is a force to reckon with, and I am forever in awe of your work ethics. Like who can simultaneously run 20+ blogs? You. That’s who. Granted, knowing you, there’s some tears and sweat (mainly tears with that), but the finished product is worth it in the end. I honestly can’t wait for the day when we have our own apartment, and we can just sit in silence in our living room couch with our fur babies. Can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for you and know that I’m cheering you on every step of the way (whether it is in silence or vocally). Love you, Queen Jey! 

Signed, 

Your first wife, Kimi 

p.s. thank you for giving/helping me with the idea of creating KWW and creating our seasonal themed headers (all while promoting girl groups)! Seriously, thank you for being and staying in my life. T-T

To my fellow BHQ Admin/Mod Team [ @chillingkoo @/guktro @mygsii @dee-ehn @nightowls388 @yoonqiful @taerseok   @btsxdoll @minloop @namluve ​ ]: 

What can I say except this is an amazing team to be part of in terms of Networks? The Head Admins Vivi, Gray, & Renae are like the board of directors that help make sure that the operation runs smoothly. Then, us Admins (Danica, myself, & Daria) are like the VP’s followed by the amazing Mods (Beezy, Penelope, Daija, & Dani) are the Supervisors/Managers of each division. What I am going with this business analogy is that BHQ is nothing without the amazing team members that make up the network, and I am grateful to be part of a cohesive team where I truly felt like I was with Gray since the beginning of the network establishment. It is thanks to this network (BHQ) that I learned how to run my own network more smoothly and professionally. I can’t wait to see what 2021 has in store for BHQ. Thank you for being amazing and wonderful people and just being a rock for the members during the major events that occurred throughout this year. You’re the best! 

- Mik

To my fellow KWW Admin/Mod Team [ @queen-of-himbos​ @atiny-piratequeen​ @sugarcookiesandsins​ @meraki-mark​ @samuelkimz​ ]: 

First, can I say to the fellow admins, thank you for keeping me sane and helping me run this network while I was swamped with school + internship. Forever grateful of both you (Kes) and Fie for being a driving force and keeping the network afloat while I focused on my school work. It is no secret that I had confrontation, so I’m thankful that either Kes or Fie agrees to being the enforcer and messages someone for me T-T Also, Kes, thank you so much for taking over the coding/member page for me all while still doing the queue. I can never say this enough, but thank you for doing that. Fie, thank you for lightly slapping me and keeping me sane whenever I feel quick to jump the gun. You are there to help me see reason and point out things that I overlook a lot. (This is why I have Jey too lol) To my wonderful Queue-tie Pies! Thank you so much for dedicating a few hours out of your day to add content to the queue and keeping our blog alive! KWW is nothing without you amazing mods. I hope you all know that! Let’s kick butt together in 2021!

- Admin Mik 

To my fellow supportive and loving SIMPS [ @ppersonna​ @jinned​ @sunkissedjk​ @hongism​ @monotape​ @wintertae​ @dreamyhan​ @koophoriia​ @j-sope​ ]: 

First of all, how are you doing on this lovely Wednesday (well it’s Wednesday when I wrote & posted this lol)? I hope each and every one of you are doing fine! I feel bad that I haven’t been in touch lately uwu but I do silently stalk/lurk on the Bangtan University discord server or on your personal blogs (totally not weird whatsoever). I hope you all had a wonderful holiday! Now, simply put, I want to say that I’m thankful that you all came into my life this year. In some shape or form, you made my 2020 incredibly bright and filled with so much inspiration and passion for writing that I honestly believed that I would not get back. Whether it is by joining a collab with you all, simply talking about ideas or just in general, or even screaming about potential AUs, you made me want to write again. For that, I am extremely appreciative of it and know that I will forever be a silent cheerleader for you all! 2021 will be the year I invade your ask box a lot more and just scream how much I love you all! You are all rays of sunshine on this website!

- Owner of Mikdonalds, home of the famous Mikimchi

To Kat @yeoldontknow​ & Sarah @yehet-me-up​: 

First, long time and no talk! How are my resident EXO wives doing? Are Chanyeol and Junmyeon treating you ladies well? I hope so! Anyway, I honestly can’t not include you two ladies in my Holiday thank you post because how can I not include the two authors I look up to the most on this website. With how you write your characters, the scenery, background information on the reader/OC, you just leave me completely speech less whenever I finish reading your works. Ah, I might start tearing up as I write this section because I just can’t thank God or fate enough for allowing me to meet two of the most beautiful souls on this website. While we do not talk as frequently as we used to, I wanted to let you both know that I hope you had a wonderful Holiday! Whatever 2021 has in store for you both, just know that you have a silent cheerleader in good old CA! 

- Mrs. Kim Kim 

To every single one of my followers (mutuals or not): 

From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much, again, for following me and just staying with me. For my newly established mutuals, I can’t wait to talk and get to know you all in 2021! Granted, I suck at talking and keeping the conversation going, so I apologize for that. I promise I will be better!! I want more friends, okay! T-T 

Anywho...

TLDR: Let’s kick butt together in 2021! Also, I’m establishing my New Year Goal of that I will become more consistent of writing + posting content. Instead of once every blue moon, it will be once every full moon. See? That’s doable, right? Right?!

- Mik

[guccybangtan]

Pull Me In - Jung Hoseok

pairing; hoseok x reader

word count; 3,058 ( a lil baby compared to some of these other fics 🥵)

genre; fluff, smut, non idol! au

warnings; semi public sex, spanking (like once maybe), blow job, daddy kink, unprotected sex, shower sex, impreg kink/breeding kink; let me know if anything needs to be added

a/n; I know I haven't posted since blue side chapter 10  (which was like three months ago??? I'm so sorry???) 

but!! im back with this small fic for ‘The Summer Bucket List Collab’ hosted by @jamaisjoons​

now, usually my fics are longer and better but on top of my issues with my college(long story) my dad is also in the hospital with some serious health issues so its been a whirlwind of the last few months

I hate making excuses but I wanted you all to know what’s been up but im hoping to get some more of my wips done now that I have classes again :)

regardless pls enjoy this fic I enjoyed writing it even though its not the best 

(also I still haven't written that much smut so pls don't crucify me)

shout out to Maggie - @kimtaehyunq​ for helping me with the wonderful banner for this! pls support them in their works 

enough blabbering, here we go :)

In the heat of the summer, there's nothing more relaxing than relaxing than a nice trip to the water. Since your little brother's birthday fell right at the height of summer, your family frequented the local water park to celebrate, effectively hitting two birds with one stone. Everyone got to cool off and your brother got to have an amazing party.

This year Y/B/N was turning ten and he took special care in selecting which of his friends he wants to attend. Your mother permitted him to bring along five friends, not counting you and the family.

Much to everyone's surprise, the first person he asked for was Hoseok.

Hoseok was your boyfriend of three years, and he and Y/B/N hadn't always gotten along. You and your little brother were very close, and when Hoseok first started coming around Y/B/N felt like he was taking you away from him.

Even though things eventually lightened up and Y/B/N became like a second shadow to him, Hoseok still worried that Y/B/N harbored hatred for him in secret.

"He really wants me there?" Hoseok asked you, fingers halting their ministrations.

The two of you had been settled on the couch nestled among the pillows even though it was sweltering, and Hoseok had been gently massaging you as you laid on top of him.

"You were the first person he asked for. Must be all that energy you have.'' You poked, causing your boyfriend to begin shaking with laughter.

Silence ensued once more and as Hoseok continued to run his fingers across your skin, you found yourself drifting closer and closer to sleep.

Just as you were about to fall over the edge, the rumble of Hoseok's voice in his chest woke you.

"What should I get him?" He voiced his out of the blue question.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"He'll love whatever you decide on regardless.''

"Well what about..'' As Hoseok prattled on, you let sleep come again.

Before you knew it, it was the day of your brothers party and you were trying to decide which bathing suit you wanted to wear.

"Should I wear this one?" You asked your friend, light blue bikini in your grasp.

"Didn't you say Hoseok liked red, though?" She began digging through the pile on your bed, "wear this.''

From the bottom of the pile she produced a bright red bikini, complete with lace details around the straps and waistband. It wasn't too sultry, but for a birthday party, it seemed to be a bit much.

"It's a ten-year-old's party, Y/F/N! Not a strip club,'' You snatched it from her hands, tossing it to the side, " not to mention my little brother's party.''

"You wore that exact bikini at Namjoon's the other day?"

"That was different...'' You countered, cheeks now as red as the bikini.

"Sure it was, because you knew you were getting laid.'' Y/F/N rolled her eyes, kicking her feet up on top of the pile of discarded suits.

"I don't know what else to tell you then,'' She shrugged,'' you said no to all of these.''

"I'll figure something out.''

Sighing, you began to dig through the pile again. Hoseok was going to be at your place in 10 minutes, and then the two of you were going to be meeting the rest of the group at the waterpark.

You needed to think fast.

Just as you finished adjusting the straps of your top, knocking could be heard on the door of your apartment.

"Would you mind getting that?" You asked Y/F/N, packing the last few things you needed into a bag,"it's probably Hobi.''

"I would but...'' She trailed off, motioning to the chips that were on her lap.

"You're a piece of work,'' You rolled your eyes, dropping the bag on the floor and heading toward the front door, "I don't know what Joon sees in you.''

"My big brain and beautiful face.'' She called after you.

Sighing, you flicked the lock on the door and pulled it open revealing Hoseok.

"Well hello there.'' He spoke, eyeing you up in down as he pulled you toward him.

"Nice to see you too, lover boy.'' Giggling, you fell into his embrace.

"You know I love this bikini on you,'' Hoseok whispered into your ear as he toyed with the spandex material, pressing a kiss against the side of your head," red suits you.''

Before you could respond Y/F/N's voice rang through the air.

"Okay kids, have fun, time to go!'' Y/F/N came around the corner with your bag in hand and began ushering the two of you out the door.

"You don't want to be late! Tell Y/B/N I said happy birthday! Be sure to use protection!'' She continued shouting as the two of you approached the car.

"Use pro- What is she talking about?" Hoseok furrowed his brows as he settled in the drivers seat.

"Haha, she's just joking.'' You blurted out nervously, flicking Y/F/N the finger as Hoseok reversed out of your driveway.

All you got in return was her cheeky smile as she retreated back into your apartment.

The waterpark was near the edge of town. Considering how much space it took up, it was a miracle the city hadn't decided to demolish it yet to build another shopping mall.

The drive to the waterpark wasn't long, but with the windows down and the music blaring as the two of you drove down the open road, you couldn't help but feel relaxed.

Summer wasn't your favorite season, but you didn't care what you were doing as long as you had Hoseok by your side. The two of you did most things together but you never got tired of him, and he never got tired of you.

You were like peas in a pod and you wouldn't change that.

"Here we are!" Hoseok sang with a smile on his face as he pulled into the nearest parking spot.

You could see your family and Y/B/N's friends waiting near the entrance of the park.

After greeting everyone, the group made their way inside of the park and looked for an empty table everyone could place their things at.

Y/B/N and his friends immediately ran to the tide pool and rushed into the water, splashing around and trying to dunk each other.

You laughed at their antics as you sat at the table under the umbrella, reaching into your bag for the sunscreen.

"Can you spray me?" Hoseok asked, pulling his shirt off and setting it next to your bag.

"Yeah, uh, yes. Turn around,'' you nodded, gulping as you uncapped the bottle.

Hoseok was definitely fitter than the average man, and seeing him bathed in the golden sunlight was enough to have your mouth run dry.

"Are you coming or not Hoseok?" Your brother shouted.

"You're keeping the little man waiting, baby. Help me out here.''

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the stupor, you mumbled an apology and quickly applied the sunscreen, making sure he had a nice even coat to protect his skin.

"Keep your mind out of the gutter,'' Hoseok smirked at you as he made his way toward your little brother. "You ready to get dunked?"

For most of the afternoon you sat with your mother and talked while tanning and watching the boys roughhouse. Eventually Y/B/N decided it was time to move to the area that has the big wave come crashing down over everyone and he was adamant that you were coming too.

"Who's gonna stay with mom if I come?" You tried reasoning.

"I'll be fine, go have fun,'' She waved you off, reaching into her bag and pulling out a book," I always come prepared.''

You groaned internally, but didn't fight when Hoseok pulled you out of your chair and began to drag you along behind him.

"Y/B/N and his friends seem to be getting tired," Hoseok whispered to you as the two of you trailed behind the pack of ten-year-olds," we'll probably end up leaving sometime after this for the pizza place.''

"Good, I'm starving.''

Generally, you were a good big sister. Being older you often had to watch out for Y/B/N and make sure that he never got into too much trouble. Since the age gap between the two of you was also so large, you were also often bending to every whim of the little boy.

Waterparks were fun, and you enjoyed spending the time with your little brother, but if there was one thing you hated it was the big wave.

For some unknown reason (definitely not your lack of balance) you always managed to get knocked down and swept under the water when the recurring waves came crashing over everyone.

“I’ll be right here,’’ Hoseok spoke,” you’ll be fine.’’

Sure enough, for the first few waves you were okay. With Hoseok standing behind you, you managed to stay on your feet. But with each oncoming wave, you felt him becoming more restless as he stood behind you.

“Are you alright?” You turned around to ask him as the water calmed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well you just seem to be wiggling a lot.’’

‘Oh, yeah…’’ he trailed off, “ about that.’’

You followed his gaze as he glanced down and noticed the bulge forming in the front of his shorts.

“Really? Now?” You asked incredulously.

“You’ve been rubbing up against me for the last ten minutes. What did you expect to happen?”

Oh. The waves had been pushing you back into him, but you hadn’t thought anything of it.

“Shouldn’t you go take care of that?”

“Me?! You started it!’’

Looking back over to where your brother and his friends were, you saw that they were still enamored with trying to dunk each other.

‘Perfect time to make a getaway,’ you thought.

“After the next wave you need to head back to mom to get ready to leave,’’ you called out to your brother, “Hoseok and I are gonna go get rinsed off and change.’’

A chorus of ‘okay’s came from the group of boys.

Grabbing Hoseok’s hand, you told him to just follow you.

The good thing about this place was that there was an abundance of showers and they were fairly large, so fixing Hoseok’s- issue- wouldn’t be a problem.

As soon as you were safely in the shower, you threaded your fingers through the hair on the nape of Hoseok’s neck, and you smashed your lips to his.

“We’ll have to be quick.’’

You nodded, groaning as he fondled your breasts through the swim top.

"Careful baby girl,'' Hoseok smirked as he tugged at the waistband of your bottoms,"don't want anyone to hear us now do we? That would ruin the fun.''

Reaching over, Hoseok turned the shower to full blast, the only sound that filled the small cubicle being the water beating against the tile.

"Maybe we shouldn’t.'' You shook your head, realizing how risky the situation actually was.

You couldn't deny that you wanted Hoseok to shove you up against the wall and fuck you like your life depended on it, but you couldn't help but be worried that someone would barge in on you.

The sheer embarrassment that you would have to deal with, especially if it was one of your parents that walked in, was enough to deter you from the railing that you so desperately wanted.

"C'mon, Y/N. We'll be okay as long as you keep quiet? Can you do that for daddy?" Hoseok hummed, hard cock rubbing against your back side.

“Yes,’’

“On your knees then.’’

Without a second thought, you dropped down, knees chilled by the tile floor; a stark contrast to the warmth of the water that was raining down on you.

Shimmying out of his shorts, Hoseok’s cock was red, precum smeared over the tip.

“Open.’’

You complied, the familiar salty taste spreading across your tongue as he slid his cock into your mouth.

“Now suck.’’

Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, you mouthed at the tip, fisting the rest of his length in your hand.

Quiet pants fell from his lips, droplets of water racing down the front of his chest as he dipped his head.

“The things you do to me Y/N.’’ Hoseok growled, gently rocking his hips forward, pushing his cock further into your wet mouth.

Letting him take control, you felt the tip of his cock nudge the back of your throat.

“Relax for me,’’ he cooed, fingers brushing across your throat.

It didn’t take him much effort for him to force his cock past your tonsils, beginning to trust once more.

Reaching down, you slipped your hand into the waistband of your bikini bottoms and ghosted your fingers across your clit.

Sighing around Hoseok’s cock, you applied more pressure, making small circles over the bud to provide some relief.

Hoseok pulled out of your mouth muttering something about how he wasn’t gonna last as he helped you up from your position on the ground.

“These gotta go.’’ He pulled on your bottoms, sliding them down your legs.

Hands planted firmly on the wall, Hoseok tapped your hip signalling you to spread your legs.

“Ready for me, baby girl?”

“Yes daddy, please.’’ you mewled, wiggling your ass at him.

“Remember, you have to be quiet.’’

Lining his tip up with your entrance, Hoseok pushed into you in one swift motion, causing you to cry out.

Clamping a hand over your mouth, he pulled your head up so it was resting against his chest.

"Ah ah,'' He shook his head,"what happened to silence, baby? You know the rules, bad girls don't get to cum.''

"I'm sorry, daddy,'' you choked out,'' your cock just fills me up so good, I-''

“What? Can’t seem to follow instructions? If that’s the case you can just suck me off and we’ll go.’’

“No! No, please. I’ll be good.’’ You pleaded, already feeling the tightness winding up in your stomach.

Hoseok had that effect on you. Sex with him was the best you’d ever had. Somehow he just knew your body so well he could play you like a fiddle.

“Fine,’’ he tsked, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back in,’’ but next time I won’t be so kind as to give you a second chance.’’

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room, moans intermingling with the sound of water continuing to hit the tile.

True to your word you managed to keep your moans in, tiny gasps being the only sound that escaped you as Hoseok continued to pound into you at a steady pace.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how sweet your pussy is.’’ Hoseok growled, running his hands across your back and over the swell of your ass.

“Only for you.’’

“Damn straight,’’ He panted, words punctuated by a particularly hard thrust, "So good to me, baby.''

" 'M close.'' You whimpered, letting your head loll backwards against his shoulder.

Hoseok picked up the pace, fucking into you at a brutal rate. His deft fingers reached down to your clit and started rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves much like you had been minutes ago.

It was like you could feel his cock in your throat, he was so deep in you.

"Wanna put a baby in you.'' Hoseok growled, thrusting getting sloppier.

"Do it then. Cum inside of me. Want you to fill me up.’’

"God, Y/N, when you talk like that,’’ Landing a swift smack to your asscheek, he kneaded the supple flesh.

“Oh, fuck,” You bit down on your lip,” I’m gonna cum! Please, daddy.’’

“Let it go, baby.’’

Hoseok continued rubbing small circles on your clit, pushing you over the edge. Stars clouded your vision as your eyes clamped shut, walls clenching around Hoseok’s cock as he continued to pound into your cunt.

“I’m almost there.’’ He moaned, fucking into you with a newfound fervor.

After a few brutal thrusts, he was spilling his load into your cunt, gently rocking his hips to milk himself for everything he had.

“You better keep that in.’’ He panted, pulling his softening cock out.

“I’ll do my best.’’ You rolled your eyes, body feeling the affects of the day.

“I love you, you know that right?” Hoseok mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips as he let his bodyweight rest against your own.

“I know, why do you think I let you fuck me in the shower of a waterpark?”

“Shits and giggles?” He shrugged.

“You’re an idiot.’’ You laughed, pushing his shoulder.

The two of you stood there for a moment, letting the warmth of the water run over you both.

As you stood there, you began running your hands over the expanse of Hoseok’s back, figuring it would be best to actually wash off the germs from the park water.

“I guess it’s smart to actually wash off.’’ Hoseok leaned up from your shoulder, leaning in for another kiss.

“It’s probably almost time to go eat anyway. I bet the others already left.’’

“Oh, crap!” You exclaimed, swifty pulling your bottoms back on and shutting off the water.

The two of you stumbled out of the shower to your bag.

After drying off and slipping on your actual clothes, you reached for your phone to check the notifications

“We’re gonna be late for dinner!” You cried, frantically shoving all of your stuff into the bag and rushing out the entrance of the waterpark.

Hoseok just moseyed along like there wasn’t a care in the world.

“Why are you being so slow today?”

“It’s funny to watch you get all worked up over pizza.’’ Hoseok said, signature grin plastered on his face.

“I’m hungry.’’ You pouted, reaching for his hand to pull him along.

“What, earlier wasn’t enough?”

“Shut up, you nasty!’’ Smacking his chest you dropped his hand and started walking again.

“I’m just joking. You should see the look on your face.’’ Hoseok was doubled over with laughter.

“The pizza won’t be there forever, hurry up!’’

“Race you?” He offered.

“You’re on.’’

[iphoenixrising]

Check, Please WIP: Part 1-4

AHL!Bitty

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

Notes: 

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

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

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

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

** Pro

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

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

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

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

Off the ice...was a different story. 

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

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

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

But, but!

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

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

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

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

Until this little shit came along.

** 1

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

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

Jack somehow started being his best friend without even trying. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you did–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Jack. Okay.”

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

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

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

** 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

And my, how wrong he was about all that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not going to happen, bud.”)

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

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

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

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

“O-Oh!”

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

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

(“Good Lord, Jack, scoot over!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Don’t be so sure, Mister.”)

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

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

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

“Good thing you’re stuck at Samwell.”

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

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

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

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

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

** 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, now that’s life, ain’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, he’s so cute, Zimms.”

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

Or he might of just dreamed that part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he probably imagined all that, too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack blinks and Bitty groans softly.

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

“Rebels?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

But the man’s fish oven mitt is–

Wait for it

– named Fish.

Because Kent is a master at naming things, obviously.

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

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

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

“Of course I am, Kent. It is true.”

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

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

(When hell freezes over.)

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

*

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

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

Bitty sighs in unmitigated relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh does that hit Jack right in the heart. 

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

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

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

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

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

At the time, no. No, he wasn’t. 

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

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

Kenny…

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh. Oh my.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Then, we’re all fine, right?”

Another nod and a squeeze to his hips.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” is totally unrepentant, the ass.

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

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

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

“Bits?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why of course we are.”

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

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

“Yeah. Thanks, Bits.”

“You’re welcome, Kent.”

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

“Bits?”

Mmhm. There is it. “Yes, Kent?”

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

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

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

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

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

 **

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

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

“So–”

He gets twin wait a minute fingers. 

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is a good opportunity, Bits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That offer is for one season, though.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what, bud?” 

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

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

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

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

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

 ** 

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

Really, it’s not. 

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

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

Because of Jack.

Because Jack’s leaving.

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

Something to think about another day.

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

** 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

It does not go away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still, I want to be here for you.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh.”

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

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

And Lord above help him. He throws both arms around Jack, biting his lower lip between his teeth, and shaking like a leaf in a wind storm.

“Jack...Kenny…thank-you, boys. Just when I need you, and there you are.” He chokes a little, and there’s Jack folding down around him, there’s Kent holding Kit closer to the phone, sending virtual purrs and cuddles.

He doesn’t feel that bad wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist shamelessly, locking his ankles in the back, and just not facing the world for a while. 

It gets a little better when Jack tries to squeeze into a pair of his shorts while Kenny is brushing his teeth and talking about the camp they had at a local rink, running drills and plays with some of the high school kids from around the area. 

But everything in the world absolutely pauses when Jack clears his throat awkwardly

And really, God Bless Canada. 

The little sigh that comes out of him is echoed from his phone, and yes Kenny, they do have good taste.

“I can’t sleep in these, Bits, ah, sorry.”

But that color blue stretched taunt against Jack’s big thigh is just the best sight he’s probably ever seen.

“I’m sorry, but that’s all I’ve got to offer. I can go talk to Dex?” Because Chowder has wider shoulders like Jack, but is about a foot shorter.

“Eh, not necessary.”

And well, yes. Bitty knows Jack wears cute little briefs. They were on a team together, have spent time in the locker room, have seen the occasional moment before towels go on. It’s men’s sports for crying out loud. 

But none of that, absolutely none of that, prepares him for Jack shimmying out of those shorts for black briefs that absolutely mold to his behind and cup the front of him. The real coup de gras is that t-shirt coming off, and heaven help him, it’s muscles for miles. 

Only those little briefs between Bitty and what the Good Lord gave Jack, the definition of fine walking across the room like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

Bitty unabashedly watches, lips parted, cheeks a soft shade of pink. 

Jack closes the bathroom door, smirking where Bits can’t see, muffled noises as he roots around in the bathroom for a spare toothbrush. It gives Bitty can just take a second to himself to take in this whole situation. 

He’s been outed on a national sports network that may or may not take the question of the Rebels right out of the equation

Chances of going all the way to the finals is looking slimmer and slimmer the more he thinks about it

Jack and Kenny confirmed some of his suspicions and it’s an absolute crime and a blessing that they’ve found each other again

Jack has gotten bulkier than Bitty realized in the last year and a half playing for the NHL and his ass should be marked as a dangerous weapon

He hasn’t answered any of the phone calls from home

Still, Coach sent him a text, Call your mother. She’s worried about you.

 And top of the list, Jack Zimmermann is in his bathroom, shirtless, barefoot, after just having verbally come out to him.

If there was ever anyone that deserves to be up for Sainthood, it’s this good ole’ Georgia boy Right. Here. 

With his head in his hands, he groans softly, and scurries to throw on his own sleep clothes, stripping down without a thought more than those short on Jack and those shorts off Jack.

“I absolutely feel you,” a breathy chirp, and he forgot Kenny probably saw the entire thing.

Bitty spins, almost ready to start getting on a boat down that river called denial when he realizes Kenny is giving him the most devilish looking smile.

“It’s really unfair that he’s a hockey God and blisteringly hot to boot.”

“We are the best of friends, I’ll have you know Mister Parson. Jack doesn’t even see me that way, even after tonight. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’s got his eye set on someone prettier than little ole’ me.”

He throws the covers back to busy his hands, but can spare a second to put some charm into it and look back at Kenny with a wink. 

It’s either the best or the worst timing because Kenny gets this look on his face, opening his mouth for something that might have been good or bad, when Jack comes out of the bathroom smelling like mint and looking like a touch could burn you down to the ground.

Kenny looks at him for a few long seconds while they’re climbing into bed, and chirps them about hands above the comforter and hockey bros cuddle like champs before he yawns and finally hangs up for the night.

The sheet gets maneuvered between them so he’s not going to be tortured most of the night with only his sleep shirt and pants between them–

(and those sinful underwear, he’s never going to forget those)

–so it’s suspiciously easy to drop off with Jack’s arm around him and snoring in his ear.

**

The next two games are utterly brutal. 

Ice bags are wrapped around his shoulder while he sits in his spot in the locker room, forearms on his knees to just hurt while Chowder is talking at his right and Dex at his left.

The bruises tomorrow are going to be beautiful, but heck, what’s some bruises when Samwell is officially in the Frozen Four.

Lord, they made it.

And he will start celebrating, right after he can raise up his arm again.

Oh, that’s going to be sore tomorrow. Making pies for the campus captain club is going to be awful, isn’t it?

He manages to get the ice bags off in time to walk with the boys back to the Haus, Ollie already scooping up his bag and Chowder, bless his heart, hovering anxiously right by him the whole walk there.

They don’t make him do a keg stand this time, thank goodness, but the party celebrating their win is well underway in less than an hour.

It’s real nice when the Lax bros bring in a stack of pizzas and slap him on the back in congratulations, like he hadn’t just been outed on national television. (He loves Samwell so much.) Chad L. says a whole bunch of something that Bitty tries to follow and ends up handing him a plate with pizza and accepting a piece of pie in exchange. 

The fire extinguisher is in plain sight to remind the footballers what could happen if they don’t behave, and at least two of his boys hang around him most the night, bracketing him on both sides to keep an eye on him. Ollie and Wicks pop around the corner periodically anyhow.

He catches Chowder taking a picture for social media, has a second of panic, almost tells his sweet son not to do that because everyone knows, but shuts his mouth last minute and straightens up to grin for the next one.

**

The night the news came out, Bitty changed his social media to private, hoping to avoid some of the homophobic comments. Since the morning after (and it’s a crying shame he missed seeing those little black briefs again since Jack was already dressed by the time he got up), he’s been talking to pretty much everyone.

Most of all, his Mama and Coach...and Mr. McLean.

Jack squeezes his hand, and Bitty bites his lip, but still, “I’m afraid I don’t think I should accept your offer after all. This isn’t going to blow over any time soon.”

“Mr. Bittle. I’m interested because you’re fast, you’ve got soft hand, and you’re a good fit for the Rebels. As far as I understand, this isn’t going to change any of that.”

“O-oh!”

“If you want to play hockey, Mr. Bittle, you can do that with us.”

And it’s there when he looks in Jack’s blue, blue eyes, when he thinks about Ollie and Wicks, when he thinks about Shitty being so kind when he’d come out to the first person on the team. It’s there when he thinks about being terrified at that first check practice, when he thinks about how dang far he’s come in four years.

(It’s tough, but you’re tougher.)

“I want to play hockey, Mr. McLean.”

“That’s the spirit Mr. Bittle. I’ll send you training camp information in the next week or so. Welcome to the Pawtucket Rebels.”

If Jack holds him tight while he almost shakes apart once he hangs up the phone, well, only Chowder and Dex will ever tell a soul because they fell on him and Jack like a ton of bricks, hugging him and laughing.

**

Shitty, Ranson, Holster, and Lardo make the trip from Boston to show up on the Haus doorstep before they’ve even finished clean-up from the party the night before.

Before he knows it, he’s got Shitty crying all over him, telling him he’s so proud and Bitty’s just the best little captain there ever was.

It’s so nice because Shitty is silly as hell, but he’s an amazing friend in times of need. 

And he can’t say it isn’t nice when Shitty picks up the loud speaker and starts shooing the rest of the hanger-oners out.

“Frozen Four!” Ransom crows, “our guys are going to kick some ass.”

“You said it, bro,” Holster warmly pats Bitty on the shoulder with one of those big hands while this pie is just coming along easily enough.

The flinch when the bruises ache is enough for more ice bags to get wrapped around him, and Shitty to shake a finger in his face, talking about taking care of himself. It might not be a concussion, but they’ve got serious games coming up, and he needs to be tip top if he’s going to take them all the way.

Bitty takes it to heart and lets them baby him for a few hours.

It does get worse when Dex and Chowder see Holster pulling the neck of his shirt up a little to check how bad it is, and then he’s got more hockey players in his kitchen butting in. Luckily, Dex is getting just as good at making pie as Bitty, and finishes up the lattice work perfectly.

He talks strategy with Ransom and Holster at the kitchen table while Lardo makes another pot of coffee, and Chowder subtly slips the bottle of ibuprofen next to him. Whiskey listen to them strategize for the upcoming games, and my, don’t it feel so normal.

He hugs Shitty again, holds on just as tight as he can, and thanks the Good Lord for such amazing friends.

**

Mama and Coach are more understanding than he ever would have imagined, taken in account what a shock it is just to come across the television like that.

“Dickey, honey, now you know,” and she has to pause because Lord, his Mama is crying, “you know you can always come home. Always. No matter what. We love you. We love you and everything else, we can figure all that out.”

And so, since he’s never said it, only thought about what could happen, he tells her, “Mama… I’m gay.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know and that’s-that’s fine. We can figure it all out. But, you can come home sometime before the semester ends, can’t you?”

“N-not while we’re close to the Championships, Mama. I-I can’t–”

“Junior.” 

And now he’s glad he just called instead of trying to FaceTime. So glad he doesn’t have to look Coach in the face right now.

“You’ve done a heck of a job this year. Been a good captain. You know me and your mama are proud, don’t you Junior?”

And there goes his lip all trembling, his eyes getting hot. Only Jack squeezing his hand keeps him together at all.

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Good. You just keep fighting. We’ll be here cheering you on, all right?”

His breath hitches in his chest, “yes, Daddy.”

“That’s my boy. You can do it, Junior. They’re tough–”

“–but I’m tougher,” and he’s covering his eyes, shoulder hunching down. Jack goes from holding his hand to pretty much lifting him up enough to slide on Jack’s lap.

“That’s right, son. You sure as hell are.”

He sighs out, a soft noise. “I am, Daddy. We made the Frozen Four.”

“Go get ‘im. Me and your Mama are behind you all the way.”

And even if Coach gets squicky when it’s time for I love you, Bitty manages to get it out anyhow.

“Love you too, son. Now you gotta stop, or else your mama’s gonna drown me.”

The thick laugh is so much better than crying. Jack thinks so too apparently, squeezing tight while Bitty’s sitting on his thighs.

If he thinks there’s a kiss pressed to the top of his head, well, he’s just going to blame it on being emotionally overwrought and leave it at that.

**

He didn’t bother with pads, just pants, sweatshirt, gloves, stick, helmet, and skates. The ice is quiet as can be in the morning light bouncing off Faber, making it beautiful.

Kenny’s far enough ahead of them that he’s on a break from practice, already home making brunch. “Big Red is going to be killer, B. Cornell is ruthless. Fighting Hawks from North Dakota.”

His skates cut through the ice until he’s gliding, hitting the long stretch, pumping as fast as his legs can take him, cycling the puck. 

He doesn’t reply to Kenny, just listens while his muscles burn, his mind works, he sees the next move like a playbook. 

Over the past four years, he’s gotten stronger, faster. Sure, he’s smaller than the average hockey player, but that don’t mean weak. Everyone they’ve played already figured that one out now didn’t they?

His arms and shoulders burn when he swings high, throws some muscle in it when he slaps the puck right in the sweet spot of the net.

“No fair, B. I want to watch!”

“I’d have to set my phone in the stands, sugar pie.”

“If that means I get to watch you do suicides, I’m on board.”

Bitty laughs out loud because Lord, he sounds like Jack. 

“Trying to kill me before practice?”

“Captain’s prerogative, babe.”

Obligingly, Bitty sets up his helmet, laying on it’s side, throws a t-shirt in it to hold the phone up, and FaceTimes Kenny.

He gives the captain of the Aces a wink and then takes off to the blue line. He’s got his game face on, stick balanced perfectly, moving like his ass is on fire.

After a good turn out, he skates back to the stands where Kenny is very close to the screen. 

“Well, there you go, Captain,” he snickers, scooping up the whole thing so Kent goes around the rink for some easy, cool-down laps with him before the boys start meandering in for practice. “That what you wanted to see?”

“You? Are fast, B. That was incredible.”

“Oh, sugar pie,” he grins down at Kent’s face in his helmet, “you say the nicest things.”

“Hey, I’m not being nice, Bits. I’m saying as a professional hockey player that you? Are fast.”

“Well, so are you. Short guys like us have a tendency to out-maneuver the big guys.”

“I’ve based most of my career on being the fast guy on the team, B, but I don’t know how I’d hold up against you.”

“Mmhm. I also haven’t been playing professionally for the last few years, tearing the fire out of my knee, Kent.” Very serious because he’s counted how many nights he’s seen ice bags over that knee in the last few weeks.

“Also true. It might be surgery for me this summer, but that should do a lot. I’ll have maybe ten years instead of five.”

“So you said. Your doctor is talking about it again?”

“...yeah. He says it should do wonders for where I’m at right now, and this might be the year to just do it and get it over with.”

“Three-time Stanley Cup winner is where you’re at right now, sugar pie.”

The laugh is nice, but now he’s wondering if he can convince Kenny to come to Providence and stay with Jack during his recovery. That’ll let Bitty be close enough to come over and take care of him while his knee heals. He’s already thinking it over when his third lap is coming up.

“B.” Startles him right out of his thoughts.

“Kenny?”

And something is there in the way Kenny is looking at him from the screen. “Be careful at the game tonight. Watch out for the Minnesota D-Men, okay?”

“Thank-you, sugar. You watch on out for those Rangers.”

“I will. Just send me a text when the game is over, even if I’m in overtime, okay?”

“You know it, honey. Now go on and get a nap. We’ve both got a busy night tonight.”

**

This could be the last time he steps out on the ice. This could be it. All of it could end right here right now. 

They’ve got to play their hearts out. He’s got to give it everything he’s got. For himself, for the boys, for Samwell. 

It comes down to this, facing Minnesota’s line like there ain’t no going back.

**

He sits on his bed, faggot and fairy in his head from the game earlier. He doesn’t accept Jack’s call because his face is a mess.  

Well, serves him right because Jack just shows up at the Haus an hour later when Bitty has finally got it together.

**

The check is absolutely brutal. 

He used to be floored by it, curled up in a little ball on the ice, couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could barely breathe. 

But not this damn time. Oh hell no. 

It’s fast when he’s back up on his feet, shoving his way through bigger men than him and stealing that puck right on out from under them. 

He feels like he’s got wings on his feet when he glides by them like they’re just standing still. 

**

Mama and Coach are here because they’ve come down to the last stand. 

This is it.

Jack and Kenny are both there and where in the world they got #15 Bittle jerseys, he will never know.

Number #82 has already been gunning for him, but the last one is the very last of Eric Bittle’s patience running right on out.

His heart is racing, his legs burning, skates cutting ice as he steers around players, gritting his teeth against the ache, and for the first time, he’s gonna stand up, holler out that no, he’s not gonna take that nonsense lying down.

The moment slows down for long enough that he feels weightless when he pushes off, is airborn, shoving all his weight right into #82 just as they’re at the Samwell bench and shove the both of them right in with the boys.

It’s a tangle of arms and legs and skates and sputtering. 

“Try me again, asshole,” Bitty sneers in #82’s face with the face guards the only thing between them. 

“Homophobic prick!” One of his boys shouts.

Coach and the boys pick him up (shocked because he doesn’t usually have a need for potty mouth thank-you very much), want him to go get checked out while the ref blows the whistle just after Whiskey gets the puck, and now it’s all on Samwell.

He doesn’t get a penalty, thank goodness, and argues loudly with Coach to let him back in the game, he needs to get back. It’s not like he lost a tooth, just some scratches from going over. It’s a long look in his eyes before Coach just throws up his hands and shoos him back. 

And Bitty’s not thinking about Jack and Kenny and Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster and Mama and Daddy and everyone else up in those stands screaming for them when he hits the ice again. He’s not thinking about how badly he hurts or the scratches on his face. He’s not thinking about his thesis or graduation or his spot in Jack’s guest room. 

He’s only thinking about the tied score, the next play, and how they’re going to show these away boys exactly who’s house this is.

**

And his arms strain when his stick comes back, when he slams that puck with every ounce of strength he has left. His heart thuds hard in the back of his mouth when their goalie’s hand shoots out, tries to catch the puck, just the tips of his gloves skimming the surface.

The alarm blares and the scoreboard changes so fast, Bitty’s not really sure what happened until his boys slam into him, gather all around him, screaming.

He’s dazed, fingers limply holding his stick, eyes still stuck on the scoreboard even when they lift him up, stick and all.

The crowd takes to the ice, and he gets his helmet off in time to get hugs from Mama and Coach, in time to accept the huge trophy, him and Coach and Dex holding it up with all the boys around them just a hooting and a hollering all over the place. 

Ransom and Holster catch him right up off his feet, crying all over him when they tell him how proud they are.

The interviews shake him out of the daze and he tells the viewers at home that the team fought hard for this and earned it all themselves. He’s proud to be their teammate and captain, he’s proud to be a Wellie, and darn it, their hard work paid off.

Just as he turns, sees Chowder going past with three of their guys behind him, singing the Samwell song at the top of their lungs, he catches Jack and Kenny standing on the ice by the boards, watching him with soft smiles on their faces, and his eyes get hot abruptly, get full as can be.

Center ice, just like with the Stanley Cup. And this ain’t that now. This? This one is all his.

He feels his lower lip tremble just a little, puts his hand up to stop it, but dang it if Jack and Kenny aren’t just easing across the ice toward him with those smiles and his name across the back of their shoulders.

He gets a hand on the back of his neck and a shoulder to hide his face while the whooping and celebrating gets loud, loud, loud.

Lord, he’s going to vlog the hell out of this tomorrow.

**

Shitty is naked. 

While it’s not new (they’ve been to Haus 2.0, and yes, Shitty was naked there too. Good times, really), Bitty has always had reservations about him being skin-to-fabric on that dang couch. Who knows what he might get. Well, all that spilled tub juice probably goes a long way to sanitize. Or so he says to keep his revolution to a minimum. 

Watching Kenny get his ass handed to him from Lardo is hilarious. Watching Jack give in and have a chugging competition is even better. 

He’s lucky the ECAC playoffs beat the NHL by almost a month. Jack and Kenny have another week before they start getting serious. 

Ransom and Holster are talking animatedly with the Waffles, back slaps all around. He’s pleased as can be when Shruti, Sharon, Edgar, Chad L., and some other captains drop by to say congratulations and have a piece of pie. He doesn’t see Jack pause over his shoulder while he talks up a storm, doesn’t see the considering look on Jack’s face.

Something about this Bitty hits him harder than the last four years, makes that perpetual tightness in his chest mean something completely different than anxiety.

He should have realized it long before his graduation, should have been terrified of it all happening again. 

Bitty affects him in so many of the same ways Kenny does, and it’s an amazing yet terrifying thing for Jack Zimmermann. Feeling like this person you’re looking at is literally made for you. 

And just as he starts taking a step forward, pushing himself in to stand at Bitty’s side like he’s done the majority of their friendship, Kenny ducks out of nowhere and takes him by both biceps. His expression is desperate.

“You’ve got to stop her. Zimms. Zimms, be on my team. Right now.”

It’s so absurd because it’s Kenny and also because he knows no one is beating Lardo. 

Ever.

Anything else is wishful thinking.

He casts a wistful look at Bitty, animated with his big win, and if Jack literally has his heart in his eyes until they’re out of sight, then only Chad L. from would have seen it.

**

Later on after the captains have said good night and some of their...guests have started staggering out, cheering for Samwell, for hockey, for tub juice, and for pie. 

For this one, Bits really couldn’t take credit because Dex really made most of them, bless his heart.

Moving around the party-goers with a spare trash bag to pick up a bit, he spots someone sneaking upstairs, pauses to squint up in case he needs to charge on up there and firmly remind people the upstairs is off limits. 

Or break out the fire extinguisher.

Either way.

...but he knows that ass in those jeans, and gasps softly as Jack’s plaid is bouncing up the steps ahead of Kenny. 

And, he can let out a sigh, catch just a little bit of bittersweet. But, if there is anything Eric Richard Bittle prides himself on, it’s being a good friend. If Jack and Kenny needed a-a wingman or whatever, then he’s just going to dang well be that.

He keeps an eye on the stairs for the rest of the night for more than one reason. No one, no one, is going to disturb them when they’ve finally come this far, and even if he silently dreads it, hopes they at least used his room instead of a bathroom for heaven’s sake.

[maxgrayarchived]

WIP First Lines Tag Game

Tagged by @shaelinwrites​!! And hers is right here, which you should read, because her writing is amazing and I can’t wait for this book. 

Rules: Share the first line (or first few lines) of each chapter of your current manuscript! Feel free to skip chapters to avoid spoilers, and you can do as many chapters as you want!

It makes the most sense for me to do this for Superkids! So let’s go

CHAPTER ONE: HE FELT POWERFUL 

Virgil couldn’t breathe.

CHAPTER TWO: BIGGER, AND BIGGER, AND BIGGER 

Patton yawned as he shuffled down the school’s hallway. His tummy rumbled. He usually ate breakfast with his dad, but woke up late and didn’t have time.

CHAPTER THREE: NIGHTMARE 

Virgil stood stiff as Derek and Remus got him ready. 

Remus fixed an earpiece on him, bringing his long hair down to hide it. Derek grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard, mumbling for him to loosen up. 

“Okay,” Remus took a step back to look him over, “your dad and I will be there the whole time. I hacked into their security cameras, so I’ll be able to let you know if anything goes wrong.”

CHAPTER FOUR: MALUS 

“It’ll be easier next time.”

Virgil lied awake, staring at the ceiling. His hair was still wet. Instead of going to school, he went to a barbershop to get his hair cut. Instead of the thick, long waves that reached down to the small of his back, the hair he’d been growing out all his life, it was shaved on the sides and his bangs fell in his face. Then, he came home and bleached the rest of the purple out, and dyed it black.

CHAPTER FIVE: TIME FOR OTHER THINGS 

At the end of homeroom, Patton came up to Virgil. 

They hadn’t actually talked since the first time, but occasionally, Patton would shoot him smiles or giggle in his direction, and Virgil would shyly wave back. When Virgil cut and dyed his hair, Patton squealed about it for about five minutes straight, telling Virgil how much he loved it and how much it must have helped his dysphoria. Virgil didn’t feel comfortable enough mentioning he didn’t really have any to begin with, just smiled and agreed.

CHAPTER SIX: DITTO 

When Roman and Patton got to the house Nightmare was hitting, a police car was outside and all the lights were on.

CHAPTER SEVEN: HE’D LOST SOMETHING 

After walking Patton back to her house, Roman wandered around the neighborhood.

He liked going on walks. He always had. He popped in some headphones and just let himself wander. There was nothing like a walk alone at night to get his thoughts back on track.

CHAPTER EIGHT: NO CONTROL 

Virgil stared at himself in the mirror. 

His costume wasn’t nearly as expressive as the others were. Ditto and Catastrophe actually turned themselves into characters, like Virgil thought he was supposed to. Ditto looked like he stepped out of a Disney movie, with a high white collar, a maroon half-cloak, big stompy boots, and a golden crown. It was one of the most extra things Nightmare had ever seen, and he almost felt stupid fighting him. Catastrophe, on the other hand, wore a pastel blue unitard, a pink tutu, ballet flats, and a fuzzy white cat mask. Virgil wondered if he made it the trans colour on purpose. 

Even Malus, they didn’t have all the flair the other two did, but they were at least unique, like some punk motorcycle driver that really liked apples for some reason. They were vastly accessorized compared to the other two, but the black fingerless gloves with the motorcycle helmet, Virgil could admit, was really hot. Virgil wondered if Malus, the real, non-hero Malus, drove a motorcycle.

CHAPTER NINE: SOFT & WONDERFUL 

Virgil watched with a grimace and a black eye as Remus finished installing their new T.V.

CHAPTER TEN: I’M RIGHT HERE. I’VE GOT YOU. I LOVE YOU. 

“I’m telling you, Ro, it’s not gonna work-”

“Just try!”

CHAPTER ELEVEN: ANXIETY CRAWLED 

At this point, nightmares were expected.

Virgil woke up around 4am, panicked and short for breath, guilt sending his head going miles a minute. Then, he looked up at the dreamcatcher swaying above him. He counted under his breath and traced the patterns of the string, the colours of the feathers. He remembered the warmth of Patton’s hug, his kind smile, his soothing voice. 

It helped, but not by much.

CHAPTER TWELVE: THINGS A LITTLE BROKEN 

Roman tiptoed out of his room, stopping at the end of the hall to listen. 

With any luck, Ophelia wasn’t wearing her hearing aid.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: VILLAIN DAYS 

Derek wasn’t happy when Virgil got home.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: GIVE UP 

Virgil still had money leftover from what Remus gave him. 

He was already taking the longer route home from school, so he tried not to make any stops. Derek hated him being late, and had just gotten accustomed to Virgil’s new schedule. But as he passed the cookie shop for just the millionth time, knowing he had the money, he decided to take the risk. 

Some days, risking Derek’s anger for a single cookie was the dumbest idea. Some days, it was worth it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: LOST CAUSE 

“Pat-A-Cake?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: ARE YOU EVEN A HERO? 

“Shh, shh!” 

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“You kicked the wall!” 

“Shut up, Roman.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: HE REMEMBERED 

Patton pushed around treats on one of the plates, as she had been the last ten minutes, trying to make everything look perfect. Roman watched with a fond smile on his face.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: FELT BETTER, FELT WORSE 

Patton almost didn’t believe him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: THEY ALMOST DID 

Virgil walked through the front door, and immediately felt like gouging his eyes out. 

Gross, gross, gross.

CHAPTER TWENTY: ONE, ONE GOOD DECISION 

They didn’t talk much anymore.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: MORE FAITH 

Virgil sunk low in his seat, his mask pulled over his face. His stomach churned as Remus drove them towards Hampton. He wouldn’t tell Virgil what they were doing.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: WHAT KIND OF HEROES 

It was cold outside. Even though the days were passing, and Christmas was a full month ago, the season clung to the Winter. It still snowed a few times a week, a light dusting falling to the grass and concrete and barely sticking. Roman rested his hands on the wet, cold wood of the railing of Patton’s back porch. 

That’s where Logan found him, after everyone had gone to bed and the two of them laid there pretending.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE: PART OF HIM STILL HOPED 

Patton got to school extra early the next day, texting Roman before he woke up saying that he had to talk to a teacher. 

It wasn’t too hard to find Virgil.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR: AND NIGHTMARE LEFT 

The storage shed was fairly small and narrow, just enough room for them to push the dusty boxes to the sides and tie Nightmare to a chair down in the centre.

Sidenote: can’t really tell if that excerpt is a spoiler but? I think it’s fine? wish we had spoiler text like discord lmao 

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE: YOU WILL BE HAPPY HERE 

Virgil spent the 20-minute drive asleep in the passenger’s seat.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX: ON OUR SIDE 

Logan didn’t remember the last time they were this excited.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN: THE INTRUDER 

The moon had risen a few hours ago, and after an extensive while of talking and trying to get a plan together that wasn’t absolute shit, the heroes decided to go to bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: ULTERIOR MOTIVE 

Virgil set his tray down with a huff, exhaustion making his movements heavy. 

“What’s got you in such a bad mood?” Lei asked in amusement. 

He scowled. “What’s got you in a good mood?”

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE: THE GENDERQUEER VIGILANTES 

Patton couldn’t help but smile.

Okay so that’s only half of the chapters I currently have written, page 206/422+, so if someone tags me again I’ll do the last twenty nine. Some of those chapter starts are kinda weak but I fucking love my chapter titles so whatever. 

Writeblr tag games tag list: 

@writinginslowmotion @energydeficient @notwritinganyflufftoday @clarence-writes @amapofyourstars @connieturnpenny @alextriestowritestuff @smokedstorybara @fantasy-penman @emerysilvertonwriteblr @writingessance

[callunavulgari]

TOP 25 FICS OF 2019

1. these roads will take you into your own country by @notbecauseofvictories | American Gods | Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney | WIP | 33k

Here’s a joke for you: a Muslim, a zombie, and a leprechaun walk into a bar in Misery, Indiana. No one stares, because no one in the puckered, shitty asshole of Misery, Indiana gives a fuck. The Colts are playing.

Heather Says: So. It’s funny that another of @notbecauseofvictories‘s stories is at the top of my list again this year. Keep in mind this list is sorted by when the fic was read rather than favorites (because that would get real complicated real quick). Clearly there must be something about January. There’s just something about the writing that is easy to slip into, be it a Star Wars fic or a Labyrinth fic or even a fic about Johnny and the Devil. This was lovely and I can’t wait until it’s finished.

2. eighteen wheels on an uphill climb by @honkforhankcon | Detroit: Become Human | Hank/Connor | 91k

Hank is going to die. He’s going to die right here in Kentucky, 53 years old, halfway to broke, and tragically sober. Survived only by a nine-year-old St. Bernard and the 31-year-old twink who delivered the fatal blow.

Heather Says: I don’t think that this is the first DBH fic that I sought out after beating the game, but it is the first that I loved enough to make it to this list. I didn’t think that I would go for a modern au for this fandom, certainly not a modern au wihere Hank is a truck driver and Connor is a sex worker (albeit briefly?) but here I am.

3. Fuck pride (pride only hurts, it never helps) by ImogenGotDrunk | Detroit: Become Human | RK900/Gavin Reed | 41k

After the android uprising, Connor becomes a permanent fixture in the DPD. That’s fine. Gavin can accept that. The dipshit’s more human than he used to be, and a decent detective to boot. Gavin can deal with him being around. What Gavin cannot deal with is Connor’s replica; two inches taller, blue-eyed, and with a mouth that Gavin doesn’t know whether to punch or take between his teeth. The RK900 model has been assigned as his partner for the foreseeable future.

Heather Says: I also never thought that I’d like a fic with Gavin in it. But I got curious about all the Reed900, and well, this fic really won me over. The writing is fantastic, and it softens Gavin while still keeping him believable. Also, well, I like the enemies to lovers thing.

4. Almost Cool by @blacktofade | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 30k

While filming the Yuma Territorial Prison episode, Shane gets bitten by what he thinks is a bat. Spoiler alert: it's not.

Heather Says: This is actually the first thing that I read for this fandom. In fact, this is the fic that got me into Buzzfeed Unsolved in the first place. I’d seen a lot of art and gifs and fics pass my way, but I was only ever slightly interested in what I saw until this fic came through my inbox and piqued my curiosity. 

5. Pride by @astolat | Game of Thrones | Jaime/Brienne/Cersei | 22k

Jaime didn’t understand why Cersei suddenly insisted on trimming his hair and shaving his beard, but he also didn’t care to fight her on it, even though he’d just as soon have kept the beard: it was bitterly cold in the small tower room with its arrow-slits. 

Heather Says: Wowza. This fic was intense. I’ve always loved Jaime and Brienne. I’ve loved them since the second book, which was read at least a few years before I started loving them in the show. Adding Cersei to their dynamic would have probably been almost impossible to pull off if it was anyone else, but @astolat lives to surpass my expectations.

6. Skin and Scales by Ernmark | The Penumbra Podcast | Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla | 18k

The man glares, and this time, Damien is certain it isn’t a trick of the light: those eyes are violet as amethyst. He wears disdain like a second skin–- or, perhaps, like the scales that he is missing. “Lord Arum?”

Heather Says: I was one of those people who skipped through all of the Second Citadel episodes during my first listen through of Penumbra. The stories were good, but the pull of Juno was too great. A couple months after I finished, I went back and listened to everything I didn’t. And let me tell you. Lizard monster. Honorable knight. Bookish girlfriend. Poly. It hit every single button I had and then some. This fic really hit the spot when I ran out of story.

7. someone you like by caela | She-Ra | Adora/Catra | 5k

catwithabat u think ur so hipster but u just look like a lesbian 27m she_ra @catwithabat bc… i’m a lesbian. lmao 5m

Heather Says: Noooot usually a big fan of high school fics. Namely because I’m not in high school anymore and well, after you read so many in your teenage years they sort of lose their luster. This one was phenomenal enough to change my mind.

8. Sands of Time by @tirsynni | Legend of Zelda | Ganondorf/Link | WIP | 98k

Link awakens in the desert with no idea how he got there, to encounter his worst enemy...except it was the King of the Gerudo, not the King of Evil, he faced.

Heather Says: I have seen a lot of really good Link/Ganondorf art over the years, but never really stumbled across a fic that didn’t have judicious amount of non-con involved. But the Breath of the Wild 2 trailer happened, and everybody started drawing really pretty art, so I went looking. And lo and behold, @tirsynni saved the day with this gorgeous time travel/fix-it fic. 

9. killed with kindness by veterization | Persona 5 | Akechi/Akira | 52k

Goro can't quite figure out why so many people keep acting like they're his friend. (Or: the one where the Phantom Thieves decide to know thy enemy, befriend thy enemy, love thy enemy, crush on thy enemy).

Heather Says: I’ve read a couple of veterization’s fics over the years, and to date they have never disappointed me. They published this in June, and I think I clicked on it mostly because I was bored and hadn’t read any good P5 fic yet. This was basically just what the doctor ordered, and I was really happy to find something where Akechi’s story went ever so slightly different.

10. paper thin by @ebonybow | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane/Sara | 9k

Shane’s new neighbors are a morning-sex kind of couple.

Heather Says: So I went into this one knowing very little about how Sara fit into things. I didn’t know she was Shane’s girlfriend. I’d never even seen her, but I clicked because I like poly and I trust the author. I was 100% not disappointed. There’s also another fic with a very similar dynamic here, which is also aces.

11. damn.nation, now available on itunes by @kaikamahine | Good Omens | Aziraphale/Crowley | 11k

When lowly tempt-pusher Amphora (formerly of Stairwell 7B North, before she Fell,) gets the notice that end times are nigh, she gleefully quits her job and cancels her Netflix subscription and takes her place among the legions of hell. This, it turns out, was a bad plan.

Heather Says: Elizabeth may have only written one fic this year, but she made it a damn good one. I’ve always loved her OCs especially, so I was pretty tickled that this is 10k+ of outsider pov. Also, demons! Demons are great! This demon is great! I want like 9 seasons and a movie about Amphora, just saying.

12. The Dragon and Her Wolves by hapakitsune | Game of Thrones | Jon/Sansa/Daenarys | 60k

When the truth of Jon's birthright is revealed, control of the North and Daenerys's claim to the Iron Throne are both called into question. To preserve their tenuous alliance and secure her rule, Daenerys puts aside her personal feelings to arrange a marriage of political convenience between Jon and Sansa Stark.

Heather Says: What do you mean season 8 didn’t exist and the show totally ended with a three way relationship between the two most powerful women in Westeros and Jon Snow? Never been a big fan of Jon/Sansa before this, but this is another of those writers that I would literally trust if they wrote a fic about a fork and a spoon.

13. never tell me the odds by @wildehacked | Wolf 359 | Eiffel/Hera | 9k

“I tried Star Wars," he says, adjusting the phone under his neck, "and it was way underwhelming.”

A shaky breath from her end. “Well, where did you start?”

Heather Says: I don’t remember which of @wildehacked‘s fandoms I started reading first. Most recently it’s been The Magnus Archives (more on this later). The point is, they’d written Wolf 359 fic and it had Hera and Eiffel and it was literally everything that I’ve been looking for since the series ended.

14. Find Me Somebody by raiining | Good Omens | Warlock/Adam Young | 11k

“You left me,” he said. “You both left me, for him. And I can’t even blame you, because I’d have left me for him too.”

Heather Says: There was an Art. The art was lovely. So I went looking, because that’s what I do when faced with beautiful art depicting a rare pairing. And I found the holy grail. Like, possibly my favorite Good Omens fic? Ever? 

15. flirting with fire by @brawlite | Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | WIP | 7k

Steve's a cop, Billy's a firefighter. It's not a grudge, it's just a regular old small town rivalry.

Heather Says: Okay so brawlite has written a lot of great stuff this year (more on that later), but I read this in bed at the beach house this August while I was reeling from both a horrible sunburn and like seven hours of mild to moderate day-drinking while everyone else was still throwing back shots right outside my bedroom door. Jaws was playing on the tv and I wasn’t even paying attention to it, because THIS. Long story short, I’ve been thirsty for more ever since.

16. gold, when you find me by mmtion | The Flash | Iris/Barry | 53k

It's not that Iris hates The Flash, per say - more that she hates writing about The Streak in a weekly, pun-heavy comic based on The Flash.

Heather Says: I never would have thought that a canon pairing would make it to my Top 25 list, but here we are. I like Iris/Barry a lot better when they don’t grow up together and spend a lot of time playing the Superman game, apparently. Also, this was really well-written, and sexual tension has never been something I’ve felt from Barry and Iris, but I felt it in this fic. Just. Damn.

17. never gets old by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger| Stranger Things | Billy/Steve | 78k

Falling in love with a cam boy named KingSteve isn't the smartest thing Billy Hargrove has ever done, nor is it the most healthy -- but the good choice is rarely ever the fun choice, and Billy is all about living life fast and loose.

Heather Says: Told you I’d come back to it. brawlite and toastranger are a fantastic team. last year was cherry pie and under the covers, this year it’s camboys and cop/firefighter dynamics. Also, I have a really strange fascination with fics where a character has an instragram. It’s really, incredibly strange. Also also, every time I see this fic title I get that one Discovery Channel song stuck in my head. And no, it probably isn’t the one you’re thinking.

18. ways to save the world by @wildehacked | The Magnus Archives | Martin Blackwood/Jon Sims | 19k

“I left you,” Martin says softly.

Heather Says: And we’re back at wildehacked too! The Magnus Archives was a thing that happened to me. This is I think the first fic I read for it while listening, and it was so very close to what we got in canon. I think when it comes down to it though, I still prefer this fic, even if the ending of this season was pretty fantastic.

19. The Denial Twist by beethechange | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 35k

“This is kind of surreal,” Shane says, taking a sip of his tea. It’s piping hot and delicious, except it tastes like hot chocolate and not like tea at all. “Sort of—Wonka-esque, right? Or Alice in Wonderland.”

Heather Says: While the vampire one is my favorite both because it is excellent and because it was my first, this one was bizarre and sexy and also I read it like only a month or so ago! The dancing was my favorite part, but having dreams to work with made this story fantastically interesting and I loved every second of it.

20. silver in our lungs by taywen | Spinning Silver | Miryem/The Staryk Lord | 4k

The marks had been with Miryem for as long as she could remember. There were a number of them, all the same shade, following one after the other around her left wrist. They were pale as old scars, though they felt no different from the rest of her skin, and her mother claimed that Miryem had been born with them.

Heather Says: I really like soulmate aus. There’s so many different ways to twist them and the way they can sometimes change the dynamic entirely and other times not change them at all is just fascinating. I’ve been hoping there would be more Spinning Silver content on ao3 and running into this while I was trying to decide what I wanted to do for yuletide was a real treat.

21. you got me begging, begging, i'm on my knees by plalligator | The Queen’s Thief | Attolia/Eugenides/Costis | 5k

Costis has a particularly enlightening evening. (or, that struggle when you're a guard who's in love with your rulers and it turns out you would kind of like it if they bossed you around a little)

Heather Says: I accidentally re-read the King of Attolia and it made me consider ships I had perhaps not previously considered. This was really lovely and just steamy enough.

22. something more alive than silence by pageleaf | The Queen’s Thief | Attolia/Eugenides/Costis | 21k

It was a good thing that six months after the king had promised to halve the guard, he still hadn’t done it, because since then, there had been two attempts on the king’s life.

Heather Says: I want to only type the words AGONIZED NOISES to describe this fic because that’s basically my headspace when I get 21k of a shiny new ot3, but I mean. Really. This is super good and maybe my favorite yet? Why didn’t I start reading this fandom when I first read the books?

23. Timing it Right by DragonBandit | The Bright Sessions | Mark/Damien | 14k

The dragon chooses, Mark knows that as well as any boy born in a weyr. He'd never considered what that would mean if the dragon picked someone you hated. He's starting to think that was a mistake.

Damien's gold rises at Whitney. Mark tries to make things right.

Heather Says: This should actually be somewhere back in March, but I apparently closed out of the tab at some point. I never really got into Pern much. I have the first three books, but got most of the way through the first one a long time ago and then never picked it back up. I didn’t think I would like this, mostly because of the fact that I hadn’t gotten into the books, but was surprised to find that I absolutely loved it.

24. Keep It In Your Sights Now by LuckyDiceKirby | Shades of Magic | Lila/Kell/Holland | 9k

Holland travels with Lila and Kell. Somewhere along the way, they reach an equilibrium.

Heather Says: I love the new things I’ve discovered during my yuletide trompings. I don’t think I ever actually considered this pairing when I first read the books, but I am just so enamored with the idea of the three of them together. Like, why did I not realize that potential back then? This was lovely, and I loved it, and I want so much more out of this pairing than what ao3 has to offer me.

25. Charioteer by petrichoral | The Queen’s Thief | Gen & Costis | 13k

Captured in battle and stuck in the Mede capital, Costis has given up all hope of seeing his country again. But Eugenides has a habit of turning up where he's least expected.

Heather Says: Technically this shouldn’t be on here because I only read it today, but it was really wonderful and so canon typical. Gen and Costis were perfect in it, Irene was perfect in it. Everyone was perfect and nothing hurts.

[yaachtynoboat711]

The Plus One

A/N: Allow me to break once more from Fonder to give you all this Oscar fic mini-series (literally two, maybe three chapters). Here’s all the fluff your hearts can handle before I resume with Chapter 7 and 8.1 I know it’s late, but this is for @sonofnjobu ’s WIP FF. I had wisdom teeth taken out last week so I was out of action. This fic is very descriptive and interactive, so please, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warning(s): FLUFF, possibly some errors/typos

Sunday mornings— the days of rest and recreation for you and your fiancée Winston. Lately, the two of you would spend half the day planning the wedding with you all’s planner. Sometimes, you and Winston would maybe get up before 10, no later than 11 to lounge around. Yet, this Sunday morning wasn’t like any other Sunday. No ma’am: this Sunday was filled with the preparation and the attendance of the 91st Academy Awards in Los Angeles! You’d been in LA since the week of your Jimmy Kimmel interview for further wedding planning, final Oscar-related consultations, and just a well-needed breather.

Within the past few months, you’d been working on Maryland’s suit lawsuit against the Trump administration. While in California, you’d met with the lawyers responsible for the state’s lawsuit. You and your partners hit the ground running after Christmas break and basically moved into the firm during the government shutdown and the weeks following. Around this time last year, you were face-first in your cases. You’d be damned if you would once again miss the opportunity to be Winston’s plus one for the awards ceremony due to work.

Your phone’s alarm began sounding off at 9:45 a.m. You decided to turn in the night before while Winston attended Common’s pre-Oscar party. It must’ve been Opposite Day. It would be you going out and Winston stayed in. Usually, you’d be snuggled up in your man’s arms sleeping. Instead, you were on your stomach, head to the side and resting on top of your hands. Dead to the world. You did,however, match Wins’ fly and slept in a new gold megabonnet to match his velvet durag (you’d bought him 10-15 new durags for Valentine’s Day). By the time your eyes reluctantly opened, you noticed that he was gone. Before you could curl your lip and whimper, you picked up your phone to find Wins’ text to start you off for the day.

You sat up on your elbows and smiled at the sight of the two white waffle bathrobes staring at you. The longer robe read “Duke” in crimson stitching, while the other read “Abdullah-Duke” in blue stitching. When you got out of bed, you caressed and carefully observed your robe. Baby boy ain’t skimpin’ on the quality of these robes. Ol’ extra ass. You quickly went into the shower, waterproof speaker in hand. From City Girls to Megan Thee Stallion to Kurt Carr and to Broadway soundtracks, your 25-minute shower performance was one for the books. Once you’d finished showering and doing your Oscars skincare routine, you went back into the bedroom to find Winston stretched out on the bed, his gapped grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well, good morning, Mama Bear. That was one helluva performance you put on in there.” He looked you up and down like you were the last oxtail, slowly licking his top lip. “I see somebody likes their new robe.”, Winston complimented as he watched you walk towards him. He re-adjusted his stance so you could straddle his lap.

“Good morning to you,too, Daddy Bear. I don’t like it at all—I love it.”, you said in the crook of his neck as you kissed it repeatedly.

“You ready for today?”

You paused, going through the day’s mental Rolodex of events. “Of course—we’ll be together. You’ve been on an Oscars red carpet, I haven’t. Guide me. Show me your ways, Master Duke.”, you said dramatically. Winston’s deep, almost maniacal laughter sounded in your ear. He stared into your light brown eyes and smiled. Kissing your fivehead, he said, “You’re so dramatic. Of course. I’m excited for tonight...like very excited.” He kissed your ring and then your lips. You cheesed like the spoiled princess you knew you were. The two of you continued to cuddle, which eventually led to your lips finding their way onto his. Just as his curious hand ventured underneath your robe, there was a knock on the hotel suite door. Your head fell back in frustration and you reluctantly got out of Winston’s lap and smoothed your robe out as you walked to the door.

Winston whistled. “I hate to see you go, but I love watching you leave.” He tucked his lip under his top row of teeth.

“Shut yo corny ass up...Gabe.” Your face twisted and you placed an emphatic but playful tone on “Gabe” before sticking your tongue out. You looked through the peephole and opened the door for your assistant Jacqui, your wig stylist Maya Elise, and your makeup artist Alicia (your usual glam artist Justin was out of the country. It was time.

Not long after your glam squad arrived, Winston’s team came trickling in. The last-minute decision to get a two-bedroom suite instead of one was paying off. You and Winston broke off into different rooms and began your transformations.

Two hours and a whole Gillette advertisement later, you were reunited with your big head for lunch. When you emerged from the room, you were taken aback to see your fiance sporting an immaculate low fade. His beard was trimmed just right, enough to know it’d been flourishing in its growth. Ahh, my favorite seat looks like a meal for real. He stood feet from you in his white robe, giving you one of those looks.

As if on cue, your twin sister Farrah knocked on the door.

“Li, I’m so sorry. The one time I try to work on something last-minute, I’m almost an hour late. Where’s your room?”, Farrah said as she tried to catch her breath. She was holding your dress in her signature purple garment bag across her arms.

“ Rah! It’s okay, Boop. First off, slow down. Secondly, I’m over here.”, you pointed your fan behind you indicating where to put the dress. You excused yourself and returned to your room.

Farrah was an up and coming size-inclusive fashion designer and most importantly, your fraternal twin sister. You and Farrah were on completely different ends of the same spectrum. Growing up, you were often fighting her bullies on her behalf because she was a pacifist to the core; a terribly sensitive and somewhat reserved Cancer. She graduated from the same high school as you at 16, two years after you did. She graduated with her BFA in Fashion from North Carolina A&T, where she’d met her would-be husband and star Defensive Lineman for the Philadelphia Eagles, Braxton King. Professionally, She went by Issa Jenae, her two middle names. Though she and her family had just moved to Philadelphia from Boston, she spent most of her time in LA and New York. Nearly 85% of your dresses were designed by your sister. So, naturally, she was elated to design your Oscars dress.

Your sister was hanging the garment bag up on the closet door when you got back in. You were anxious to see the dress, as you had no idea what it was going to look like. When she asked you what you had in mind, you replied that you wanted something that was “subtly Wakandan”. With the help of Black Panther’s costume designer and Oscar nominee Ruth E. Carter, Farrah was able to make your wish shake. One of the advantages of having your twin sister design your dresses was that she’d knew you better than any other designer could. Your off-shoulder gown was fittingly inspired by the Jabari tribe with the purple and gold-threaded triangular pattern on the exterior and the gorgeous interior satin royal purple lining. The slit on the right side showed just enough of your thigh tat. Like the other dresses she’d made for you, it was customary for Farrah to hand-sew an insult of some sorts somewhere into the dress. Today’s insult: whore, sewn into the left side of the slit’s opening.

Being that it was one of the many inside jokes you two shared, you searched tirelessly for the insult. When you finally discovered it, you let out the ugliest sound as began laughing. “Bitch, you play too fuckin’ much. Whore? Really?”, you commented as you began unzipping the dress.

“Why not? I wasn’t the one sleepin’ with half of Black Hollywood, now was I?” You stared at her in pure disbelief. That raggedy bitch just airing your dirty laundry out there, but if the roles were reversed, she’d call your umi with the quickness. She was the true Cancer. “Exactly. I rest my case. Now go change, whore.”

You muttered some dirty words and passive aggressive wishes under your breath as you carefully slipped into your dress. Farrah zipped you up and spun you around to get a better look at her masterpiece of a dress. With your wig on and your shoes and accessories still needing to be put on, your transformation was almost complete.

You toyed with the idea of what kind of accessories you’d wear for tonight’s activities. Simplicity won you over for your picks. You wore three necklaces: a choker-like gold bar with “Khalida” written in Arabic, your everyday rose gold “K”, and your gold zodiac pendant. In addition to your 2nd engagement ring, a local Black jeweler allowed you to wear their oversized black fleur-de-lis cocktail ring (it was Mardi Gras season, after all) for the awards ceremony. In an unusual twist, you decided to wear a bracelet. This bracelet wasn’t just any other bracelet—it was a gold bracelet shaped as scissors (a shameless Us plug for your fiancé).To finish the look, you wore your cowrie shell and gold link anklets. You were ready to fuck that carpet up.

Once Maya-Elise finally laid the baby hairs on your half-up half-down Yaki blowout wig, you walked out of the pits of hair hell one last time. For the first time in history, you were ready before Winston. This never happened. Like...ever. Instead of seeing Winston, you were, however, greeted by your bonus family sitting in the living area of the suite.

“My daughter! Has Winston seen you yet?!”, Mama Cora remarked as you twirled for her.

“No, Coco, because for the first time ever, I’m the first one ready. You know this never happens. Wait—he didn’t dip, did he?”, you asked as you tried to peak at his door.

“Of course not! He wouldn’t ditch the most beautiful woman in Hollywood—not in his right mind,at least. I’d actually have to rough him up.”, Cindy joked.

You and Jacqui walked out to the suite’s main balcony take pictures for the ‘Gram. Six Vogue-worthy pictures later, Jacqui uploaded the photo set with “Dark-haired YAAncé” as the caption. You walked back into the suite to see a handsome thick figure with his back towards you. Winston was so wrapped up in his conversation with his barber Red that he didn’t realize that you’d been outside, yet alone beat him getting ready.

“I wonder what Yaa’s wearing tonight. She mentioned something about there being purple somewhere in the equation? I don’t know...I never know with that gyal of mine.”, he chuckled as he shrugged.

Red’s shoulders bounced in laughter. “I mean...why don’t you ask her? She’s right there.” Red looked around his solid physique to acknowledge your presence.

“How am I going to ask her if she’s not rea—”. Winston turned his head in the direction Red had pointed to. Noticing something different, he whipped around once more, this time, turning his whole body around towards you. The two of you stood maybe two feet apart, taking in each other’s ensembles and beauty.

You were in love with his low fade, especially after the Sisqo phase for the New Years Trip (there could be only one platinum blonde in this relationship). Red got him right for tonight. Then there was the tux. THAT. FUCKING. TUX. It didn’t help that he was already thicker than three-day-old oatmeal. His suit was just fitted enough. In true Winston C. Duke fashion, he couldn’t just wear a basic tux. Nope. Hell nawl. The jacket had white piping on the lapel and the pockets, along with two white bands on either arm. The pants had the white stripe going down either side. Surely, the ancestors wanted to see you cut up over your man and how delicious he was looking. As you undressed him with your eyes, you’d caught his little intentional lip bite and lick. It was subtle enough for only you to catch it.

You fanned yourself harder the closer you got up to him. Shit, that nigga was looking delicious. Winston and everyone else laughed at your speechlessness. Your mouth was totally agape and your head shook. You finally pointed your white coffin-shaped nail at Winston and looked around the room to make sure everyone else was seeing the same meal you were looking at.

“Are you gonna say something, K.D.?”, Winston asked as he closed your mouth and lifted your chin in one smooth motion with one finger.

“Baby...sweetheart...honey bunches...Chris baby…answer me this one question...”, you stammered.

“Yes?”

“Who the fuck told you...TO LOOK THIS FUCKIN’ GOOD?! LIKE, WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT AND THE PRIVILEGE?! THE NERVE OF YOU! THE ABSOLUTE UNMITIGATED GALL, THE NEGROSITY OF YOU, ON THIS 24TH DAY OF BLACK HISTORY MONTH AND 20TH ANNIVERSARY OF MY NATIONAL ANTHEM!”,you gassed, punching your hand and pointing your acrylic nails and clacking them against each other every which way for dramatic emphasis.

Winston doubled over in hysterical laughter, to the point of tears, at your response. “Wow, I must say, it does feel good to be on the receiving end of your gassing. I knew I had to come with it if I was going to be your date tonight. If I haven’t learned anything else about you in all these years of knowing you, it’s that no matter where you’re going, you’re gonna bring it. You’ve kinda forced me to step out of my usual tux zone and further into the world of high fashion...all without knowing what your dress looked like. I think I did pretty good, dontcha think?” He finally closed the gap between the two of you and held your small hands into his big hands.You rolled your eyes to keep from laughing. You weren’t going to give into that Gabe Wilson-level corniness.

“Ehhh...you did aight. Ion know who you tryna dress up for, but you cute or whateva.”, you said nonchalantly.

He lowered his voice to where only you could hear, “I must say that you, my dearest Khalida, the love of my life, are looking sublime right now. I don’t even care what you have in store for the after party look, I just know that in this very moment, I’d have you on this table if everyone weren't here.” You smirked.

“You know, I had the same thought about you when were eating lunch. I’m happy our freakiness is in tandem.”, you paused to look around the room, “Now let’s go and flex for the ‘gram, shall we?”

Everyone crowded both elevators to the lobby to get a full glimpse at the soon-to-be Duke’s. The lighting in the hotel’s courtyard was perfect—a studio could never.

“Alrighty...the lighting’s good here, love birds.”, Jacqui reported as she searched for the perfect late afternoon light. The two of you walked to the exact spot Jacqui deemed appropriate. He insisted that you walk before him, just so he could check you out from the back. He gazed in amazement as he noticed the highlight on your shoulders when the sun kissed them. The purple and gold in your dress both complemented your caramel skin. Winston bit his lip as all the thoughts of sin and lust bombarded his mind. God, you outdid yourself when you created her. He finally caught up to you and promptly rested his arm around your full waist, pulling you into him. The two of you stared into each other’s eyes, cameras or people be damned. As Jacqui caught the candid shots, the two of you whispered nasty sweet nothings into each other’s ear. After spending 20 minutes in the courtyard, Jacqui escorted you and Winston to the hotel’s service entrance, where their SUV was waited patiently for you all. As the two of you looked at the SUV, Winston squeezed your hand. “You ready, Dr. Abdullah?”, he asked as he looked down to you.

“When you are, Mr. Duke.”

The two of you shared three deep breaths before loading into the car, eager to show up and out for the Oscars.

I GOT THE TAGLIST IN THE BACK! @muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @eriknutinthispoosy-deactivated2 @whoramilaje @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals @supersizemeplz @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bartierbakarimobisson @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @washyourlinens @turn-thy-paige @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @sarahboseman @iamrheaspeaks @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @cay-cah @coonflix @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @great-neckpectations @jellybean531 @yofavcocoa @storibambino @maya-leche @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @texasbama @ljstraightnochaser @certifiednatural @abeautifulmindexposed