#the way kent is looking at bitty is actually making my heart go a little insane 😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-lincyclopedia · 4 years ago

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* adapted from @librajiminn on twitter

A fun game to celebrate 2020 ending! The rules are simple: recommend your favorite OMGCP fics so everyone can enjoy them, while trying to fill in enough slots to get a bingo!

This is going to get long, so I’ll put it under a cut. Also, I’m too orderly to try to shoehorn my favorite fics into these particular prompts, so I’m just going to go right to left, top to bottom, taking the prompts literally, until it’s bedtime.

1. first fic you bookmarked: “Here Comes the Sun” by @doggernaut, 19k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

For the past month, the man with the baby and the sad blue eyes has been stopping in for a cup of coffee an hour before closing. He always sits in an overstuffed chair in the corner and drinks his coffee while his baby sleeps next to him in the stroller. Sometimes he pulls a book out from the diaper bag he carries with him; other times he just stares straight ahead as if in a daze. He never asks for a refill, always respectfully gathers his things and leaves ten minutes before the shop officially closes. Eric desperately wants to ask him what his story is.

My notes: I read Check Please over the course of two days in June of 2019. On the second day, right after catching up, I looked at @peppermintfeminist‘s AO3 bookmarks and found a fic by @doggernaut. Then I read just about everything @doggernaut had ever posted. It was glorious. This fic in particular is so cute.

2. most recent fic you bookmarked: “Flight Check” by @edgarallanrose, 15k, E, no warnings (though there is a creepy/handsy guy at a club to watch out for), primarily Zimbits with most of the other popular pairings in the background

Flight attendant Eric “Bitty” Bittle has been working his way up at Samwell Airlines for the past four years, and his new promotion has provided him the opportunity to work with a brand-new crew. Unfortunately for Bitty, that crew includes an incredibly handsome but equally grumpy pilot, Captain Jack Zimmermann, who seems to want nothing to do with Bitty. Even worse, Jack refuses to eat any of Bitty's baked goods. Will Bitty be able to win the captain over? Or is there another reason Jack has been avoiding Bitty?

My notes: There are a lot of great things about this fic--Jack’s character arc, Lardo’s dialogue, that scene in Seattle--but the reason I bookmarked it is the scene where Bitty’s basically slut-shaming himself and Jack gently but firmly tells Bitty not to do that and that it was the creep’s fault.

3. a fic that made you cry actual tears: “a little bit more” by @ivecarvedawoodenheart, 14k, T, no warnings, Holsom

“I just wanted,” he says, “a perfect day. With you. Because it’s our last day together and our last day being here as undergrads and we’re kissing the ice tonight, and the weather’s supposed to be beautiful, and you’re moving tomorrow and Holtzy I just — I don’t want to be missing you already.” Holster wipes his eyes before he even realizes he’s crying. Behind him, Ransom sighs. “One more day where everything’s the same,” he says, feeling around blindly for Rans’ fingers. He feels Rans nod as he laces their fingers together. “Yeah. Yeah, Rans. I’d like that a lot.” __________________________

Holsom after graduation and throughout the subsequent six months after Holster signs to an expansion team in Oregon, and realizes his feelings for Ransom too late. Holster's POV :) kinda angsty, but there's a happy ending :)

Inspired by shitty-check-please-aus: "Holster moves to Oregon while Ransom stays on the east coast. The time difference makes it difficult to talk and one day they wake up and realize they aren’t best bros anymore."

My notes: I almost never cry at fics. I searched “tears” in my fandom email account and only a handful of my fic comments came up, but Syd is a literal master of Holsom angst, always.

4. longest fic you’ve read: “Like Real People Do” by @xiaq, 153k, M, No Warnings, Kent Parson x OC

Parson gestures with his spoon toward Hawke. “So am I allowed to ask about the service dog or is that not PC?”

“My medical history is more of a 3rd date conversation," Eli says.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because. No one sticks around afterward and I like to live in glorious denial for a short period beforehand.”

It comes out more self-deprecating than he intended.

Parson looks…thoughtful. “Well, does this count as one or two?

“Pardon?”

“This. Ice cream. I mean, technically it’s a second location, but still the same night. So is this one date or two?”

“One,” Eli says firmly. “If it’s happening within the same three-hour period.”

“You’re the expert,” Parson says, which, he’s really, really, not, but ok.

“So still two dates to go then?” Parson continues.

“I—what?”

“We’ve got a roadie coming up but then we’re home for almost two weeks. When does your semester start?”

“You want to do this again?” Eli asks.

Parson stops idly twirling his spoon.

“You don’t?”

He does, Eli realizes. He really does. Because apparently he actually likes Kent fucking Parson.

My notes: Okay, this fic has my whole entire heart. I’ve read it multiple times in its entirety, and it’s almost twice as long as the full-length novel I’m querying. Eli is one of my favorite OCs I’ve ever seen in a fic (probably tied with Damian Navarro and Ari Paxton, both brainchildren of @fozmeadows). Anyway, this is probably going to be the next thing @themeaningoflifeischeese and I read out loud to each other.

5. a fic you almost didn’t read: “when all else fails (i’ll still be right here)” by @whoacanada, 6k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (and I don’t remember if I think there’s stuff to warn for, sorry), Zimbits

The National Hockey League is resurrecting the Quebec City Nordiques, and the expansion draft hits the Falconers much harder than expected.

My notes: Given that this was for @omgcpheartbreakfest, I was worried this would be all angst--all hurt and no comfort. Which made me sad, because I love @whoacanada‘s writing but I wasn’t up for reading unresolved angst. But @doggernaut reblogged the fic, so I asked if the ending was sad, and it’s NOT! There is quite a bit of angst but the ending isn’t sad.

6. a fic that convinced you on a ship you didn’t ship before: “it drops with the gravity of rain” by @geniusorinsanity, 16k, T, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (attempted sexual assault by an OC), Nurseydex

It happens like this:

“I don’t--this is a bad idea,” Dex says, his lips still tingling, his hands shaking on Nursey’s hips where he’s shoved him away. “This is a really bad idea, Nurse. I can’t--We can’t do this.”

And there’s hurt in Nursey’s eyes and his bottom lip is swollen from Dex’s teeth, but he says, “Okay.” And then, “It’s chill, Dex. Just friends, then.”

It happens like this:

“Actually,” Nursey says, talking more to his granola than to them, “I kind of have a date.”

It happens like this:

When Nursey calls, Dex almost doesn’t pick up the phone.

My notes: So I was really confused and a little disturbed when I first found out people shipped Nursey and Dex. Like, Dex just wasn’t someone I trusted. But then I was moving out of the house I’d been living in, and I needed stuff to listen to as I packed and cleaned, and @khashanakalashtar‘s podfics came in clutch. I gave this one a try even though I didn’t like Dex, and @geniusorinsanity blew. My. Mind.

7. a fic from an unusual POV: “Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy” by @porcupine-girl, 8k, G, no warnings, Zimbits

Jesse Snowden knows all the best restaurants and gourmet food shops in Providence, so when Jack Zimmermann starts bringing in incredible baked goods, he's eager to find out where the new bakery is. When he meets the man behind the pies, he decides that there's no way Jack could really appreciate this guy's talent the way he does, even if they are friends. He starts hiring Jack's chef on the side, in the hopes that maybe once Bitty's done with college he'll come work for Jesse.

Good thing there is absolutely no way whatsoever that Jesse could possibly be misinterpreting this situation.

My notes: Oh my gosh this is so funny. The secondhand embarrassment factor is huge, but like, the hilarity.

8. a comfort fic: “Don’t Need to Compromise” by @khashanakalashtar, 11k, E, no warnings, PB&J

“Hey,” said Kent, unknowingly setting off a chain of events that would change his entire life, “you said that like you know from experience. Have you done this before?”

Jack and Bitty have not done polyamory before, but they do know Ransom and Holster’s polycule, which contains March.

And March?

March is trans.

My notes: I’m in love with @khashanakalashtar‘s entire Directionverse series (and honestly a lot of their other writing), but “Don’t Need to Compromise,” which is the second fic in the series, just makes my heart swell especially much. The gender feels are so good, and all the characters are so good to each other, and when I listen to this on walks I have to actively try not to arm-flap.

9. a fic you wish could be a movie: “Ice Crew Please!” by @petals42, 61k, T, no warnings, Zimbits

Jack Zimmermann was drafted first by the Providence Falconers when he was eighteen years old. He is good at hockey. Very good. His team won the Cup his second year and now, in his third year, they are looking good. Jack should be on top of the world. And some days, he manages to convince himself he is.

He’s not, of course.

Enter the Ice Crew.

AKA: The Ice Crew AU

My notes: This fic has its tender moments, but what I love most about it is the sheer goofiness. Ransom and Holster and Shitty are HILARIOUS in this one. I’d love to see their shenanigans in movie form.

10. a WIP you read as it was updated: “Something Borrowed” by @fozmeadows, 48k, M, no warnings, Kent x OC

All things considered, Ari did his best to prepare himself for the advent of Kent Parson, Potentially Difficult Housemate and New Star Liney. The problem was that his best was an idiot.

My notes: So technically I didn’t start reading this until the first 19 chapters were posted. But there was still plenty of anticipation for the final few chapters. And like, @fozmeadows (as mentioned above) makes EXCELLENT OCs. And I love how their fics consistently convey that having bad things happen to you does not mark the end of your story.

Okay, it’s bedtime, so have 10 excellent fics. I got bingo twice, because I went straight across on the top two rows.

#mine #omgcp #omgcheckplease #check please #fic recs

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notebooks-and-tea · 4 years ago

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Parse & Folklore: A Ted Talk

Alright everyone, settle down and come have emotions with me about how many of the lyrics from Folklore could apply to Parse. This is a long one so buckle in kiddos. I’m not usually a omgcp blog and I haven’t actually used tumblr in ages but I needed to share my emotions. Someone please yell at me if they have any more thoughts - I’m always here for Parse &/ Taylor rants!

1. The 1 - let’s be real you could read the entirety of this song as Kent, hopefully having now finally managed to move on from Jack, wistfully thinking back on how nice it would’ve have been if he had indeed been ‘the one’.

Lyrics that kind of hurt:

We were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true It would've been you In my defense, I have none For never leaving well enough alone Rosé flowing with your chosen family And it would've been sweet If it could've been me In my defense, I have none For digging up the grave another time 2. Cardigan - So the concept of this song doesn’t directly relate to Kent but a few of the lines stick out to me a lot and I guess just generally this idea of ‘when you are young they assume you know nothing’ in the context of what Jack and Kent would have been going through when they were in Juniors.

Lyrics that stand out to my angsty heart:

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young I knew I'd curse you for the longest time <--literally just Kent not being able to let go of Jack despite how long it’s been since the draft

3. My Tears Ricochet - Definitely don’t think about the idea of Kent loving Jack and being cut out and ignored following his overdose while listening to this song. ‘I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace’ when thinking about Kent visiting Jack at Samwell and being rejected, then lashing out is particularly painful okay. You could totally interpret a lot of this song as Kent lashing out at Jack and reminding him that he can cut him out and claim he’s moved on but he’ll always be a part of him and it just makes me sad to think about how that might not actually be true...

Lyrics that make me sad:

Even on my worst day Did I deserve, babe All the hell you gave me? 'Cause I loved you I swear I loved you Till my dying day I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And you're the hero flying around saving face <--Jack getting to look like Kent attacked him for no reason as if he doesn’t also owe apologies 'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave And you can aim for my heart, go for blood But you would still miss me in your bones <-- also kind of reminds me of Kent, in his anger when he turns up at Samwell, lashing out and saying that it’s people like him who still care about Jack no matter what

4. Mirrorball - okay literally just one line really sticks out to me and makes me sad so definitely don’t think about Kent having to hide who he is around the Aces, especially when Jack and Bitty kiss on the ice and he’s in the bar and someone whose name I’ve forgotten is being a homophobic dick, while Taylor sings “I'm a mirrorball I can change everything about me to fit in”

5. AUGUST - like the entire song basically? But like specifically these two boys have a month in the summer between winning the memorial cup and the draft and maybe Kent thinks it’s perfect and he’s so hopeful and he knows it has to end because they’re going to be on separate teams but maybe for him, just wanting them to be together is enough, at least for now. But everything goes wrong and Jack slips away and then they lose contact because Jack cuts him out and all Kent knows is that he should have known because he was never really his no matter how much he hoped that would be true. So now he just has those memories of the two of them together that one summer and maybe that kind of makes me want to cry?

Lyrics and sadnessss:

I never needed anything more Whispers Of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before" <-- just really hammering in that reminder that they were just kids before the draft But I can see us Lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets August sipped away Like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine Will you call when you're back at school? I remember thinking I had you Wanting was enough For me, it was enough To live for the hope of it all Cancel plans just in case you'd call So much for summer love, and saying "Us" 'Cause you weren't mine to lose 6. This is Me Trying - Yikes, isn’t the title just a hypothetical Parse anthem though? Once again, not really exactly in the spirit of the actual song but I feel like so many of the lyrics apply? I mean, Kent turning up at Samwell vibes and once again he lashes out because he feels hurt but he’s trying. He doesn’t even know if Jack wants to see him but he’s hopeful so he turns up and he’s trying to be helpful and to reconnect but he’s still hurting even if Jack doesn’t seem to care? Also definitely don’t think about Kent in his first year in the NHL when he’s supposed to be living his dream and enjoying life, celebrating victories with his new team but all he can think about is Jack and how he may have hurt him and that he’s living the life he’s missing out on.

Lyrics I have emotions about:

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway <-- Kent turning up at Samwell not really knowing if Jack would want to see him but being so hopeful that he would just hurtssss I just wanted you to know That this is me trying And at least I’m trying

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that

And it's hard to be at a party When I feel like an open wound It's hard to be anywhere these days When all I want is you

7. Illicit Affairs - Ooooh boy, we’re back to entire songs that remind me of Kent and Jack and pre-draft sadness. So cannon Jack might claim that they never really dated and doesn’t that hurt even more if you consider Kent thinking they’re basically dating in secret only for Jack to overdose, then cut him off completely and deny that what they had ever involved any real emotions on his part? So here’s where illicit affairs makes me want to sob. Definitely don’t think about them having a secret ‘relationship’ that starts off because they’re just such close friends, the best friend either one of them has ever had, but they’re also both closeted professional hockey players and horny teenagers let’s be honest, and what starts off as raw moments of honesty and closeness between them get’s slowly corrupted because they have to hide it all, and they have the draft to think about, and Jack has his anxiety etc. And maybe Jack doesn’t call him kid or baby but he does call him Kenny like nobody else does and Kent would ruin himself if it meant he could have Jack back, would give him anything, would get him a spot on the Aces so they can finally play together like they were supposed to...This song makes me sad.

Lyrics that hurt especially (might as well post the entire song here tbh):

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies and it dies and it dies ...a million little times / They show their truth one single time But they lie and they lie and they lie ...a million little times

So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself ...a million little times

8. Invisible Strings - Is this song too happy for my feelings about Kent most of the time? Probably, but basically any ship that ends in Kent/Happiness could apply to this song and that’s the reason it stays on this list. So basically think about Kent being happy and moving on with someone who’s so so good for him and helps him heal and then reconsider this song with that in mine.

Lyrics to think about:

Time, Mystical time Cutting me open, then healing me fine

A string that pulled me Out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons Wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you Cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart Now I send their babies presents <- the idea of Kent moving on and no longer having confrontations with Jack whenever they meet but instead being happy for him too makes me so happy

9. Betty - Okay once again the actual idea of this song, definitely doesn’t directly apply but hear me out. Kent turning up at Samwell wanting to be heard out by Jack. Maybe it doesn’t happen directly after the event so he’s not ‘only 17′ but he effectively is and he doesn’t know anything really. He didn’t at the time the overdose happened and he never got the chance to deal with it properly because Jack cut him out so he still doesn’t really know anything. All he knows is that he misses Jack and he wants to play with him again and wants them to get back to where they used to be, to where they’re suppose to be. And if he insulting Jack’s team isn’t James (Taylor’s POV) singing about Betty’s ‘stupid friends’ then idk what else to say. Why does this song scream Kent so much to me despite being about a random 17 year old boy who cheated on his girlfriend?

Lyrics I want to scream about:

Betty, I won't make assumptions about why you switched your homeroom But I think it's 'cause of me <--so obvs not homeroom but please don’t think about Kent thinking that Jack overdosed and decided not to go to the NHL after her recovered because of him

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself Or lead me to the garden? I'm only seventeen I don't know anything but I know I miss you <--maybe he’s not 17 but he’s basically still just a kid whenever Jack’s involved

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep And I planned it out for weeks now but, it's finally sinking in Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when you see my face again The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you So, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch in front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me Will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings?

I definitely have more to say on this but this is already so long so that’s it for now, might continue on some other time?

#kent parson #omgcheckplease #parsepositive #angst #taylor swift #folklore #jack zimmermann #I have too many emotions about fictional characters #literally just thinking about August and Illicit Affairs in relation to Kent makes me want to cry

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bittysvalentines · 6 years ago

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For: @aceinhyperspace

From:@17piesinseptember

♡ ♡ Happy Valentine’s! I hope you the most fantastic of days ♡ ♡

___

Kent laughs a belly laugh. “To be fair, you did hate me.”

“I did not,” Bitty refutes, cheeks turning red. Though that could be the wine.

Jack’s eyebrows lift but he doesn’t say anything.

“I didn’t!” Bitty repeats, then he gets a wicked glint in his eyes and says, “I just sometimes imagined you getting seriously injured and cut from your team.”

Kent launches himself at Bitty to faux-tackle him. Thankfully, Jack’s quick reflexes protect his laptop from crashing to the floor. He moves away from the couch they’re play-wrestling on and stands on the other side of the coffee table away from the flailing limbs.

“Yet even this rivalry had nothing on the years of ingrained tension between previous line mates, Parson and Zimmermann,” Jack continues reading the article.

Kent's face is pressed into Bitty's side but Jack catches the mumbled, “They probably wrote that because you never smiled at me during our face-offs.”

“You never smiled at me either, bud,” he tells Kent.

Kent digs his fingers into Bitty's side and is released. “Oh yeah?” He stands and straightens his t-shirt. “What do you call this.” Kent jumps over the coffee table to get up in Jack’s face and pull his face-off expression.

“It’s a smirk.” Jack tells him.

“Bitty?” Kent looks for support elsewhere.

“Sorry, hun.” Bitty fixes his hair on the couch. “I’m with Jack on this one.”

Kent pouts and spins the laptop around in Jack’s hand.

“The pair were first…Okay, blah, blah, blah, we know this part.” Kent scrolls down the article with a finger. “Blah, blah, blah—Oh. Here we go.”

Kent takes the laptop from Jack and clears his throat. “However, if the hockey fans of the world thought that theirs was the rivalry of this decade, they were in for a shock when the Falconers added Eric “Bitty” Bittle to their roster. Suddenly the apathetic dismissals of Zimmermann seemed genial. Put Bittle against Kent and the ice seemed warm.”

Jack laughs at that and Bitty groans. “Why is there always an ice related pun in these articles?” Bitty laments.

“I like them,” Jack says.

“That’s because your dad humour came in early,” Bitty tells him with perfect derision.

Kent laughs so hard that Jack takes the laptop back off him and sits down beside Bitty. Jack looks between the two of them, Bitty still despairing over the pun, and Kent wiping his eyes as he starts crying with laughter. It’s not the future Jack thought he’d have, not when he first met Kent, not when he first met Bitty, not four years ago when they were all finally in the league together. Reading the article reminds him how far they’ve come.

~FOUR YEARS AGO~

Jack pulls Bitty aside before the match. “You okay there, bud. You seem a little…wound-up.”

“I’m fine.” Jack watches Bitty’s hand clench tightly around his hockey stick.

“Okay.” Jack lets it go, even though he knows Bitty is lying. There isn’t time now to get into it. The Aces are waiting for them on the ice.

Jack takes an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, and in fact, he doesn’t even get there by himself.

Kent skates past him before second interval and hisses, “What’s the new guy got against me?”

Jack watches Bitty in the next play as he pulls a spinorama around Kent and whisks the puck away. It’s not skills, it’s showmanship. Like Bitty’s trying to embarrass Kent.

Jack spies Kent and swings past him, speaking quickly so it’s not obvious. “He knows about our history.”

Kent has to wait until the next pause in play to respond.

“I apologised for that,” Kent speaks angrily. “We both did.”

“I didn’t think I needed to let Bits know that.”

“Well, could ya?” Kent demands, starting to skate away. “He’s being a fucking menace to me.”

Jack doesn’t get a chance to say anything during the game. He makes sure Bitty doesn’t get picked for post-game interviews but by the time he himself has finished, Bitty’s gone from the locker-room. His stuff is still in his nook though, so Jack goes looking. He can’t be far, and Jack has a suspicion he knows which direction Bitty would have gone in.

The two blond heads are easy to spot, and their voices carry in the empty corridor.

“You tweeted me?” Jack can easily picture the ice in Bitty's eyes at that tone.

Kent shrugs and Jack can see Bitty’s hackles rise. “Knew you’d see it. I’ve got something to say to you.”

Jack starts to jog, heart pounding.

Bitty lifts his chin. “Why should I bother hearing it? I’ve got a win to celebrate.”

“You should bother because you played almost as dirty as me out there.”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Hypocritical remarks. Great. I’m leaving.”

Kent reaches out to grab Eric but Jack reaches them in time and puts his body in the middle of them.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Bitty smiles brittlely. “We’re leaving.”

Jack looks from Bitty to Kent.

“Kent, you should say what it is you wanted to.” He doesn’t want this getting into Bitty’s head again at their next game.

Bitty’s jaw slackens. “You’re on his side? That’s the guy who can push you into an anxiety spiral in three sentences! Whose ego is so big that—"

“Woah. Hey, Bits,” Jack interrupts, seeing the curling of Kent’s fists. “We’ve talked about that. It’s in the past. We’ve both apologised to each other.”

Jack keeps his eyes on Bitty, watching his expression thaw ever so slightly.

“Right. Fine. Okay.” Bitty relents for the moment, though Jack knows they’ll be talking about it later. Bitty presses his lips together in a firm line and looks Kent up and down, unimpressed. “I still think you’re a dick,” he tells Kent before stalking back to the locker rooms.

“Back atcha,” Kent shouts to Bitty’s back.

~PRESENT DAY~

“I'm going to the kitchen,” Bitty announces, picking up the empty bottle of wine. “Does anyone want anything?”

Jack shakes his head. “I'm good, bud.”

“Is there more of your hazelnut ice cream?” Kent asks.

“Think so,” Bitty tells Kent. “I'll bring the tub if there is.”

“Love you,” Kent replies, stopping Bitty en route to the kitchen to give him a kiss.

“Love watching him leave,” Kent says to Jack, stealing Bitty's old spot on the couch. Jack agrees wholeheartedly but flicks Kent's ear anyway.

“Ouch,” Kent complains.

Jack smiles at Kent so he knows it's in jest when he says, “Why are you always so crass.”

“You bring it out in me. You're both too hot for my own good.” Kent licks an exaggerated line up Jack's neck so Jack pulls his hair in retaliation.

Bitty re-enters and avoids the ensuing tussle by sitting on the opposite armrest of the couch. “Well, at least I know you didn't read ahead without me,” he interrupts after a few moments.

He takes a scoop from the tub of ice cream in his lap and passes it to Jack.

“Any bets on what the closing paragraph is going to be?” Jack asks. It's a running game for them to predict the path of these articles.

Bitty hums. “I'm thinking something about trade rumours—reuniting the Parson Zimmermann dream team.”

“Good one. How much are we betting?” Jack asks, passing the tub across to Kent, who grabs at it eagerly.

“Ten dollars?”

“Mh. Ten tubs of this ice cream,” Kent says with his mouth full.

“Declined,” Bitty says. “Even if I give you my recipe and watch you cook, it’ll somehow turn out wrong.”

Kent pokes out an ice cream-covered tongue and Jack uses the distraction to steal the tub back.

“Winner gets to choose the theme for our Halloween party this year?” Jack suggests.

“Ooh. I like that one even better actually. I'm in.” Kent holds his spoon aloft. “I'm gonna go with…” He twirls the spoon as he thinks before landing it on Jack's shoulder. “I bet they talk about the Stanley Cup in a way that implies if one of our teams wins it'll prove LGBT-plus players are proficient.”

“Kinda specific,” Jack comments, tipping the tub so Kent can access it. “You’re sure you wanna go with that?”

“No, no. Let him make the weird and specific bet,” Bitty argues. “It's funnier that way. Plus they're actually right half the time.”

~THREE YEARS AGO~

Bitty, stretched out on the couch with phone in hand, laughs. It's the groan that follows it that gets Jack's attention.

“You good?”

Bitty groans again. “I'm annoyed. I was going through Kent's Instagram for his cat and it's hilarious.”

“And that's annoying to you?”

“No. Yes. Probably.” Bitty drops the phone onto his chest and digs his hands into his eyes. “Should it be?”

Jack shuts his book properly and sits on the coffee table so he’s up near Bitty's head.

“You're always number one in my book.”

Bitty drops his hands and smiles at Jack.

“I'm gonna follow him,” he declares.

“Uh…” is all Jack gets out before Bitty hits the follow button.

“And fuck it, his personal one too.”

Jack manages a full, “Are you sure?” this time at least. Bitty still trash talks Kent when they face each other. He doesn't think this will go well.

Jack's worry turns out to be unfounded.

“I really wish you'd bond over something that isn't my clothes,” Jack pleads, watching Kent and Bitty in stitches on the couch.

“But Jack. Jack. Look.” Bitty holds his phone up for Jack to see. His laughter shakes it so much it's tricky to even pick what outfit they're laughing over this time. “Your shoes.”

“Your shoes,” Kent repeats. “Bright yellow.”

“Yellow,” Bitty echoes, nodding sagely in the way only tipsy people can get away with. “And your t-shirt is huge.”

“So huge,” Kent gasps, wiping tears from his eyes. “I bet you twenty bucks Bitty and I could fit in it. Like together. At the same time.”

Jack doesn't think his clothes are that big. He laughs. “Deal. Twenty it is.”

Bitty and Kent share a look and then Jack's racing them down the corridor, trying to stop Bitty from showing Kent their closet.

Kent and Bitty strongarm him into giving them both twenty.

~PRESENT DAY~

“How long is this article, anyway?” Kent asks when Jack pauses between paragraphs. “They aren’t even up to us coming out yet.”

“I was out before getting drafted,” Bitty points out, licking his spoon clean of the last of the ice cream.

Kent leans over the back of the couch from where he's been pacing and stretches a hand over Jack’s shoulder to reach for the laptop

Jack holds the laptop out away from Kent’s reach.

“Come on. I just wanna see.”

“I’ll lose my place.”

“I’ll find it for you again.”

“And then you’ll—"

“It’s 3000 words,” Bitty interrupts their argument. He holds up his phone at their twin looks. “I googled it.”

Jack scrolls down a little anyway, to appease Kent, then hands the laptop over his shoulder to him. He gets a quick kiss on the cheek for his troubles.

“On National Coming Out Day 2020, Bittle, Parse and Zimmermann came out on social media—”

“Already out,” Bitty repeats.

“—their announcements prompting several other current and retired players to join them over the following months. Though they say they were not together at the time, several months later the trio was spotted apartment hunting by fans, leading to speculation—later confirmed by the players themselves—that they were in a relationship. One year on and—”

Kent stops reading and scoffs. “This is bullshit.” He points a finger at the laptop. Bitty and Jack have to turn on the couch to see. “They didn’t even talk about the parade!”

“Look on the bright side,” Jack says, “at least they're not using that ‘we fell in love over FaceTime’ quote.”

“I stand by that,” Kent claims. Jack believes him, he just likes bringing it up.

“I remember when you said it,” Bitty says, holding his arm out over the back of the sofa to grab Kent's free hand. “I thought it was very sweet.”

“See, Bitty likes it.” Jack knows Kent's teasing from the easy smile on his face but he plays along.

“I didn't say it wasn't sweet,” Jack points out. ‘I just meant, it certainly wasn't the full story.”

“Well that one wasn't appropriate for mass media,” Kent replies.

“No!” Bitty says with overdone shock, hand pressed to his chest. “Spending a long weekend with us and bottling up your supposedly unrequited feelings only to confess those feelings over FaceTime the second you flew into McCarran, then hop on another plane straight back to us? That's not appropriate?”

“I meant more the stuff that happened after.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Always so crass.”

“That wasn't crass, that was suggestive.”

“Pee-can, pe-cahn,” Jack replies.

Kent sticks his tongue out.

“We're glad you did it,” Bitty says, pulling on their still linked hands to kiss him.

Kent returns to the article, making his way slowly around the couch.

“They’ve put in that blurry phone pic again,” he sighs. “Why do people always use that one? We weren't even together yet.”

“Jack’s ass in those jeans,” Bitty says at the same time Jack says, “Bitty’s hand in your hair.”

Jack waits for the inevitable follow-up. He catches Bitty’s eyes and knows he’s doing the same.

Three, Bitty mouths.

Two, Jack mouths back, grinning.

One.

“But my eyes are shut!” Kent complains with his usual dramatic flair.

Jack and Bitty start laughing.

“What? Guys, what?” Kent asks sulkily.

Bitty gasps. “You say that every time.”

“Well my eyes are shut every time,” Kent replies, defensive.

“At least it’s not the picture from your birthday last year,” Jack points out.

Bitty shudders beside him. “Amen.”

~ONE YEAR AGO~

The flash from the camera is blinding.

“Take the flash off,” Jack shouts over the groans of people who’ve been half-blinded.

“Yeah, take it off.” The way Kent’s hands are snaking into the waistband of his pants makes it clear he’s not talking about the camera flash.

“Sorry!” Bitty says, adjusting the setting. “Okay, final one y’all.”

Bitty starts the self-timer then dashes to squeeze himself into the group. He jumps on Jack’s back and almost topples them both over by throwing an arm to wrap around Kent’s shoulders.

After the camera clicks, Bitty pulls them both by the hand over to the camera. He brings up the final photo and zooms in on the three of them.

“Dear lord.” Bitty flips the camera so they can see.

“Holy shit,” Jack exclaims.

Kent grabs the camera and zooms in even more, laughing. “I love this photo. This is the best birthday photo ever. I’m gonna print it and frame it and keep a copy in my wallet.”

“Isn’t it a litte, uh, N-S-F-W?” Jack can’t help but say.

Bitty groans. “Jack, please don’t tell me you just—”

He grins and confirms Bitty’s fears. “Not safe for wallet.”

Bitty headbuts Jack’s chest. The blond hairs tickle his skin and he’s pretty sure the body paint is going to rub off onto Bitty’s forehead. “No! That’s a fine. I’m calling it. Give me a kiss to make up for it. Right now.”

Jack happily obliges.

“You owe me one too,” Kent tells Jack, already leaning in for it. “Oh my god, that pun was bad.”

Kent laughs into Jack’s mouth as he kisses him, and Jack tries hard to shut him up with his tongue. It’s not that effective.

~PRESENT DAY~

“Oh. Is that it?” Kent sounds disappointed to have finished the article, for all his ribbing earlier. “No one guessed the ending then. Damn.”

Jack reaches over and closes the internet window before Kent hits the comments section. They’ve learnt to leave that be. It’s always the negative ones that stick with you.

Kent puts the laptop on the coffee table then twists on the couch so he can lean against the armrest and stretch his legs out over Jack’s lap.

“Not the best, not the worst,” Bitty remarks from Jack’s other side.

“There wasn’t anything new in it, at least,” Jack comments.

“Yeah, because we’re like the boring married people in the NHL now.” Kent manages to sound sad and relieved at once.

“Kenny, we’re neither of those things,” Jack says, rubbing a palm along Kent’s leg.

“Soon though,” Bitty says, smiling, stretching his left hand across to rest over Jack’s on Kent’s leg. The diamond flecks in the gold band catch the light. “I’m looking forward to a boring married life with you two.”

#bv2019 #fanfic #bittyjackkent

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birlcholtz · 6 years ago

Note

12 + 48 and zimbits

Roommate + Fake Dating oho i am excited for this one. here comes more actual writing are y’all ready?? 2.1k

edit: apparently i posted this on ao3 and forgot to link it here so here it is

On the one hand, Bitty loves the fact that the team just doubled the number of beds per bedroom in the Haus. Sure, it doesn’t seem quite as luxurious as the individual rooms, but it means that even more people can fit in the Haus and that means a couple of things:

First of all, he has far more people nearby to make go to Stop ‘n Shop and buy him butter.

Second of all, there are many, many people around who are perfectly willing to hang out with him, which means as long as he doesn’t tell them that he needs to do homework, he has a house full of willing accomplices in procrastination.

Unfortunately, the second thing doesn’t work on Jack.

He and Jack weren’t even supposed to be roommates— in the Hausing lottery, Bitty had been assigned to share with Wicks, but then Ollie asked to switch so he could be with Wicks and Bitty is pretty sure they’re together or at least FWB and he definitely doesn’t want to be sexiled so he said yes. And now here he is sharing a room with Jack.

Usually they don’t get in each other’s way; as long as Bitty plays his music quietly, they make it work. But Jack has a pretty much perfect bullshit detector when it comes to how much work Bitty is avoiding, and part of that may be due to the fact that it’s just impossible to make eye contact with Jack and lie to him, and part of it is probably witchcraft of some sort.

But they make it work.

The day Jack gets a letter is a day of note in the Haus, because the only physical mail they ever get are catalogues (for many things, among them clothes, kitchenware, and fishing supplies) and bills. However, Jack is working on his thesis and refuses to come downstairs to accept the letter in a grand ceremony Shitty wants to improvise, so Bitty is tasked with bringing the letter to Jack since it is, after all, also his room.

“Ugh,” Jack says upon opening it.

That’s unusual. “What?”

“I’m invited to my cousin’s wedding.”

“Do you not like your cousin?”

“I like him, but my aunt is convinced I’m dating Kent Parson, and every time I see her she interrogates me to try and get me to confirm it.”

“Why does she think that?”

Jack sighs through his nose. “She thinks we’ve been going steady since the Q.” He doesn’t answer the question, but Bitty knows how close Jack was to Parson then, so it makes sense.

“Can you just tell her you’re not? Like, I don’t know, say you broke up, or that you’re dating someone else.”

“I don’t think she would believe me.”

Bitty flops down on his own bed, because it sounds like this is a problem worthy of letting Bitty procrastinate on everything else and that fact alone is definitely worth some attention. “Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t believe me about not dating Kent Parson now, so how would I convince her? It’s not like I can make a significant other materialize out of thin air.” Jack puts the card on his desk and tosses the envelope into the trash. “I usually just endure it. It’s not like I see her that often, anyway.”

“I mean, you don’t have to make someone materialize, just ask someone to go with you and pretend. If the food is good I’m sure they’ll agree.”

The corner of Jack’s mouth quirks up. “Or is that just specific to you?”

“I am nobly ignoring your attempts to chirp me.”

“You just acknowledged them. And they’re not attempts, they’re successes.”

“Are not.”

“I’m not getting into this with you.”

“I win.”

“Fuck.” Jack drums his fingers on his desk and says, “Still not getting into this with you despite you baiting me.”

“Who says ‘despite’?”

“I do.”

“Fair point.”

Jack frowns, which is an unusual expression for him when Bitty has just confirmed he’s right about something. “Can you go?”

“Huh?”

“To the wedding.” Bitty must look nonplussed, because Jack says, “I mean, we’re used to sharing a room, and I would ask Shitty but he’s really stressed with applying to law schools and everything and I don’t think an event with free alcohol would be good for him.”

And those are all excellent points, but this is Jack. Bitty is genuinely not sure he can make it through the wedding pretending to date Jack while still maintaining his composure and dignity. Add that to the fact that Jack went through that whole conversation they just had about Kent Parson without a single ‘no homo’, and frankly Bitty is not in the right emotional state to do this.

“I’ll buy you Annie’s for a week,” Jack says, and fuck it, Bitty is sold.

“Okay, I’ll accept your bribe and do it. But only for the food.”

“And the Annie’s.”

“I’m counting that.”

It’s really a good thing that Bitty and Jack are roommates, because they automatically have a place to practice faking couple-dom.

“Okay, first question,” Bitty says. He’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, and Jack is mirroring him on the other side of the room. “How long is this whole thing? Like, is it a whole weekend? Is it a morning thing? Evening thing?”

“Evening, but we’re invited to the rehearsal dinner, so it’s pretty much the whole weekend.”

“Okay. Next question, are we going to be faking to your parents or telling them?”

“Uh, my dad is not good at keeping secrets.”

“Faking. Okay. Will people be speaking French?”

Jack furrows his brow. “I mean, some people probably will be, but the wedding’s in New York. It’s my mom’s side.”

“Thank the Lord. And the next question is, can you dance?”

“If I say no, does it mean I don’t have to?”

“Yes.”

“Then I cannot at all. And that’s the truth.”

“That’s honestly what I expected.”

“Rude.”

“Well, anyway, we won’t dance, then. That’s good, that means we don’t have to practice that.”

And so the plan is born. They won’t tell anyone, not even Jack’s parents, and they won’t bother explaining the whole situation to the rest of the team because Shitty will insist he’s doing fine and then they’ll have to deal with that. They’ll practice a relatively subtle level of PDA, because it’s not like it’s their wedding, and there will be absolutely no dancing.

They start with just being in each other’s space. The team is not big on personal space as a whole, but this is different— sitting next to each other, touching from knee to shoulder, leaning on each other, that sort of thing. And then handholding, which Bitty needs to practice a lot because it messes with his head and his composure and both of those are unacceptable.

He has no idea how he’s going to function when they get to kissing. More importantly, he has no idea how he’s going to conceal this irritatingly persistent crush. He thought it would fade away after a week or so (and to be honest he had fully expected it to happen at some point), but that… is not what is happening. Instead, Bitty’s heart does physical activity ranging from a flutter to intense aerobics every time they touch, and frankly this is not sustainable.

But he can’t back out. Jack really does need him to do this. Bitty can see how whenever Jack’s gaze lands on the invitation, which is still lying on his desk, he tenses up a little, and Bitty has the feeling that there’s more that Jack isn’t saying.

But that’s none of his business.

He muddles his way through couple practice fairly well, for a while. Jack has made a calendar (because of course he has) detailing their schedule and when they progress from one level to another. It’s endearing, and the fact that it’s endearing instead of annoying is pissing Bitty off.

Day One of kissing takes place a week before the wedding, because Bitty has asserted that he needs time to get used to it and Jack has agreed. Thank heavens for small favors. Except that just means that he’s going to spend even more time kissing Jack and— well, Bitty is just not thinking about that.

He determinedly not-thinks about it until the day of, when they’re sitting in their room facing each other and Jack says, “Ready?”

And Bitty says, “Yeah,” because waiting longer will not help at all. He just needs to do it, and then he can get used to it and it won’t be an issue at the wedding.

And then Jack kisses him and Bitty becomes immediately aware that it will definitely be an issue for him personally, because honestly?

Kissing Jack feels right, which is fucking terrifying and definitely not what should be happening. Because Bitty has been secretly hoping all this time that when they get to this part, it’ll just feel awkward and silly and he can finally let go of this stupid crush. But instead it feels comfortable, simple in the way that making a crumble is simple, and Bitty definitely should not have gone with the crumble comparison because now he’s coming up with all sorts of figurative language that incorporates sugar and dessert and just overwhelmingly unnecessary ideas.

I can’t fake this, Bitty thinks, and then he pulls away, or Jack does, because he doesn’t consciously decide to do it but it still happens, and then he opens his eyes and looks at Jack, who…

Who doesn’t seem any more coherent than Bitty, and Bitty has no idea if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

They just look at each other for a minute, or maybe two, and then Jack looks away and says, “This isn’t fair.”

“Huh?” Bitty says, because he genuinely has no idea what Jack is talking about.

“This,” Jack says. “Fake dating. I mean—” he sighs. “It’s not fair to you, because you just agreed to do it as a favor to me. I should have stopped it when I—” And he stops.

Bitty waits, because it’s clear that Jack is going to say something, and the last thing he wants to do is mess that up by saying something.

“When I asked you to help me, I was being honest,” Jack says. “I really just needed a friend to help me get through this weekend. And then I thought… I just thought, well, it’s been a long time since I’ve dated anybody so I’m just reacting to that but… that’s not what happened. I guess…” He pauses, takes a breath, then says, “It’s not fair to you because I’ve been letting you think I’m just in this to get my aunt off my back, when I… I really want this to be not fake.”

“Oh,” Bitty says. And then he says, “Oh, God, that is so noble of you, because I was just going to not say anything for the rest of my life and bottle everything up until I died, but… I want this to be not fake, too.”

Jack looks back at him in surprise, and then whatever he sees on Bitty’s face must convince him that Bitty is being genuine, because he says, “Okay.”

They make eye contact for a long moment before Bitty feels himself starting to laugh. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

Holding on to a semi-straight face is a challenge, but it’s worth it, because Jack starts smiling too, and then he laughs, and then Bitty can’t help but laugh too, and their second kiss is, if possible, even better than their first.

The wedding is lovely.

Bitty isn’t really sure of what the bride and groom’s names are (they introduced themselves at the rehearsal dinner, but by the time the hors d’oeuvres were served at the reception, those names had flown out of Bitty’s head), but they seem nice, and they put on a damn good wedding, so as far as Bitty is concerned they’re excellent people.

Also, the food is really good.

They still have to lie about how long they’ve been together, because Jack RSVP’d a while ago, but compared to lying about being together, it’s a piece of cake.

Bitty expresses that out loud (but quietly) to Jack, who says, “Literally.”

“You’re holding a macaron, not a piece of cake.”

“Close enough.”

They also do a very good job of not dancing— they talk to various family members during the fast songs, and shamelessly raid the desserts during the slow songs, and maybe a quarter of the guests have left when a very familiar song begins.

“Okay, I know we said no dancing, but I’m changing both of our minds,” Bitty says, standing up. “Come on, it’s a slow song, you don’t have to do anything.”

Jack lets himself be pulled up from his chair, and then he says, “Is this… Beyonce?”

“Yeah, that’s why we have to dance, come on.”

Jack just laughs and goes with him.

#my stuff #my inbox #zimbits #omgcp #fic

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whoacanada · 7 years ago

Text

‘Hot Jock Contest’

2k of date night auctions, shenanigans, and awkward first meetings. A Zimbits AU where Jack never overdosed and Bitty’s gay self is comfortable with being auctioned off for charity.

Rating: Teen, no explicit anything (not this time, lol)

(100% based off an ad I saw in passing for the Chicago Gay Hockey Association’s ‘Hot Jock Contest’.)

Jack rereads the email and fights a tightness in his throat at the image attached.

“Gay men’s hockey club is holding some kind of striptease disguised as a fundraiser. It’s the perfect place for you to spread your bisexual wings. You’ll get to see cocks in jocks, Jack. The kind you can actually look at, and, hopefully, touch.”

“Parse, I don’t know if that’s the kind of image I’m supposed to be cultivating, you know?”

Jack is eight months out of the closet and still horribly, desperately single; a fact made even less palatable by his ex trying to get him laid from a thousand miles away.

“Okay, that excuse worked until you got so backed up it started affecting your game. Look, at some point you have to make yourself happy, right? Coming out is supposed to be liberating and you’ve been wallowing in your freedom because people knowing you like dick doesn’t change the fact you’re still real fucking awkward, bud.”

“Thank you for the pep talk, Kent.”

“No, I mean,” Kent huffs like he’s the one suffering through this conversation. “Go out, have fun, get laid. And take Tater, he’s a good wingman.”

Ultimately, Jack folds like a cheap suit and finds himself in clothing that is far too tight, sipping on a craft beer that is too sweet, in a loud club full of beautiful people doing questionable things.

Jack doesn’t belong here.

“I still don’t think this is --”

“Zimmboni, relax! We find you cute boy tonight, no problem at all. How about that one? Nice legs? Nice face? Look good in your bed, ah?”

“Easy,” Jack throws his teammate a warning look at tries to focus on the parade of scantily clad hockey players looping the stage. “It’s not a meat market.”

Tater snorts. “Is always meat market. Just usually you are meat on ice.”

A beefy defenseman in a blue jock and matching harness stops in Jack’s line of sight and cocks a hip to display his bare backside and the tattoo of puck on his left ass cheek. Tater whistles and earns himself a wink.

“You’re not gay,” Jack chides.

“No, but I appreciate good physique.”

The lighting changes up and so does the music before a voice comes over the speakers announcing ‘special guests in the club tonight’ and Jack barely has time to duck his head before he’s hearing Tater’s name alongside his own.

“Crisse,” Jack curses while Tater stands to accept the resulting applause.

“AM HERE TO FIND ZIMMBONI CUTE BOYFRIEND,” Tater yells gesturing at a red-faced Jack. “HE LIKES BLONDES WITH SOFT HANDS.”

The crowd goes wild, practically drowning out the music.

“Well,” Jack peeks through his fingers and sees the glitter covered announcer staring him down, mic pressed close to his Providence Blue lips. “Lucky you, we have one of those up for auction tonight.”

Blue Harness comes to a stop on the other side of the stage with the other men up for auction and Jack tries not the stare, looking for the aforementioned blonde.

“Did you see him already?” Jack askes Tater, kicking himself for falling prey to his own curiosity.

“No,” Tater whispers loudly, “but always save best for last. You have to bid, or I bid for you.”

The lights go pink and Jack leans back in his chair, forcing himself to enjoy whatever is about to happen.

“Ladies, Gentleman, everything and everyone betwixt and between,” the MC teases. “Our last lot of the evening is a feisty peach from the sunny south who can out-skate, out-bake, and out-class just about any man on the ice.”

Tater wolf-whistles while Jack stares, lost in anticipation -- too preoccupied to comment on the fact ‘betwixt’ and ‘between’ are the same thing -- as the curtain slides back to reveal a short, adorable blonde with big brown eyes and very little covering his nearly perfect body. The man sees Jack, flashes a bright, teasing smile, and Jack’s breath leaves him.

“Our very own NCAA Champion, Eric ‘Bitty’ Bittle. Bidding starts at $500.”

Jack can’t make his voice work and someone else gets the first bid -- in fact, the auction is all the way up to $2000 by the time Jack can choke out “$1500,” but Jack’s voice is drowned out by Tater’s yell of “$3000!”, and Jack nearly gives himself whiplash turning to his teammate.

“What are you doing?”

“Bad taste for you to buy your own boyfriend, so I will buy for you. You will pay me back later -- I can be best man at your wedding.”

Someone else ups it another two hundred and there’s a slight commotion on stage. Bittle, ‘Bitty’ Jack silently corrects, has taken the mic and is assessing the crowd with an amused expression amid catcalls and whistles.

“Y’all, I’m very flattered, but you know you’re just buying a date, right? And you should also know I don’t put out on the first date.”

Some of the cheers slide to boos as Bitty hands back the mic before kissing two fingers and pressing them against his bare ass, skin practically glowing against the stark-white jock and thigh-high socks. Jack’s so light headed he’s going to pass out. He’s already dead.

Tater looks like he’s about to bid again when someone sticks a phone in Jack’s face and all hell breaks loose because Tater tries to grab the thing and by the time the dust has settled Jack is being ushered to the door and the auction is the least of their worries.

“All this press and you didn’t even get laid?”

“I knew it was a fucking mistake,” Jack grunts, trying to focus on his quads and fighting the heat in his cheeks as the boys keep chirping. He’s embarrassed for more than a few reasons. The pictures that popped up online, the call to his publicist, the fact he really wanted to win that date and couldn’t handle the attention long enough to pull it together.

It’s a lot of regrets to bring to a late-season home game.

Jack’s still going through his warm-up stretches when he starts hearing a tapping behind him -- he doesn’t look, he’s too experienced for that -- but eventually, the tapping becomes small voices saying, “Excuse me? Mister Zimmermann?”

Crisse. They’re being polite. He swipes a puck near his skate and stands, ready to plaster on a smile for whatever parent is pimping out their child for a game puck when he sees a familiar tuft of blonde hair through the glass.

Oh.

Bittle waves shyly from behind a whole slew of small children in Falcs gear, face pink with the chill in the arena. He’s bundled up tight, a blue and yellow scarf around his neck, looking embarrassed but determined. He’s as handsome fully clothed as he was barely dressed the night before.

Bitty calls out something over the kids' chatter, and Jack can barely make it out.

“I can’t hear you,” Jack tries, and Bitty shakes his head apologetically.

He swipes a few more pucks from the ice and shoves them through the camera hole before motioning for Bitty to follow him toward the penalty box, which is more of a task than expected as the seats are half full and cordoned off. Jack moves ahead and raps on the door of the penalty box until the attendant, Marcus, finally lets him in.

“Jack, what’s going on --”

“You see that guy?” Jack points to Bittle, who is trying to negotiate his way past an usher one section over. “Blonde guy they aren’t letting into 109, can you go get him?”

“You know I can’t leave, kid.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jack pulls off his gloves and sidles past Marcus to pull open the side door and step out into the stands, much to the shock of the dozen or so fans sitting in the first few rows.

“Zimmermann! What the hell are you doing?”

Jack sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly until the usher turns to see what’s going on, and Jack recognizes the staffer almost immediately. Unfortunately, he also attracts the attention of every fan the surrounding three sections.

“Hey, Christine! He’s with me! Let him through!”

She waves apologetically and Bittle, bright red with embarrassment, slides past the other attendees to reach Jack, who is back hiding behind the door as fans pile up behind the glass hoping for a photo. Eventually, Bitty makes it to the penalty box and Jack cracks open the door to let him in, but not before tossing a few bait pucks to the fans in the way.

“I don’t think any of those are going to kids,” Bitty chides with his delightful accent, collecting himself and making Jack’s heart melt even as fans keep slapping the glass hoping for more swag.

“eBay,” Jack mumbles, looking down because Bittle is a solid foot shorter than him in skates. Jack could lift him easily. “Probably. Hi.”

“Hi,” Bittle returns, the red in his cheeks still bright. “Hey, I thought you were going to win the auction.”

“What?”

Marcus coughs and says, “I don’t think you’re allowed to do this.”

There’s a pounding behind Jack and he catches Poots and Snowy making kissy faces at them. He can’t flip them off with kids around but they know he wants to, the look on his face is enough. Thankfully, Bittle laughs and blows a kiss back for good measure.

“I like him!” Poots yells, skating off. “I’m gonna tell Tater!”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Bittle continues. “I thought you were going to win. Then you were just gone. Hurt my ego a bit.”

“Bad timing,” Jack apologizes. “I get skittish around cameras.”

“Mmm,” Bitty hums and turns around to look at the dozen people recording them on their phones. “And this is much more private?”

“Well, you picked the venue,” Jack fights a smile and summons his courage, leaning down to whisper in Bitty’s perfectly shaped ear, “and, you’re wearing clothes this time.”

Someone slams into the boards hard enough to rock the wall and Jack spins, dropping a protective arm around Bittle. It’s Tater, grinning like a damn loon.

“LITTLE B! YOU FIND ZIMMBONI!”

“I did! Thank you again for the tickets, Alexei,” Bitty shouts back, leaning into Jack’s side. “I’m very grateful.”

Tater opens the box door and leans in, “Zimmboni, see, I am best wingman, Kenny tell you this. Also, coach pretty mad, you should come do job, now. Paid to skate, not kiss cute boy. Do that after game.”

Bitty giggles and Jack looks up to see there are only seven minutes left on the clock. “Crisse, I need to go,” he curses, looking back down at Bitty. “Where are you sitting?”

“Section 113, but how am I supposed to --”

“Go back and find Christine, the usher you were talking to, tell her Jack wants you to go to Bob’s Box, she’ll take care of you. I’ll find you after the game.”

“Okay, ‘Bob’s Box’, I can do that,” Bitty seems only slightly overwhelmed by the orders but nods dutifully, stepping aside for Jack to pull open the side door. “Wait, who’s ‘Bob’?”

Marcus snorts and Jack fights a laugh because, of course, this hockey playing angel wouldn’t know. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he sure as hell is now.

“You’ll find out,” Jack teases, leaning down once more to whisper, “and maybe tonight you’ll get a chance to see me wearing nothing but a jock strap. If you want.”

He drops a quick kiss to Bitty’s cheek, heedless of the cameras, and hopes to god he hasn’t ruined everything.

Evidently, he hasn’t because when he rears back, Bittle is staring at him with wide eyes and a bright smile, almost dazed.

“Oh, honey, I want that very much,” he sighs, reluctantly slipping through the fans and out into the stands, heading toward Christine. “See you soon!”

He’s beautiful. Jack might have a date. Hell, Jack might even have a boyfriend.

“Zimmermann! Close the damn door!”

First, however, Jack might have a League Fine.

2K notes · View notes

alphacrone · 7 years ago

Text

CHAPTER ONE HERE (AO3)

MY WRITING TAG

“What part of no do you not understand?”

After a very restless night, morning found Jack and Eric arguing in the back office of Easy as Pie. Out front, Tony and Conner—the bakery’s two full-time employees—rang up customers, apparently unable to hear their bosses hissing at each other in angry undertones.

“You’re my sire, Jack, not my father,” Eric said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can’t just tell me what to do.”

“Thought you respected your elders down south,” Jack snapped. He didn’t pull the age card often—mostly Eric brought it up first, teasing him for being an old man—but when he did, it was absolutely infuriating.

“I respect the ones who deserve it,” Eric retorted. “I’m not a child, Jack.”

“You’re certainly acting like one,” Jack said.

“And you’re acting like a spoiled prince .”

There was a long, tense moment, and then Jack deflated. “Okay,” he said, holding up his hands. “Okay. Please do not follow the hunters tonight.”

“Why?” Eric demanded. “We need intel.”

“Then I will get it,” Jack said. “ You will stay out of harm’s way. Remember your promise?”

“Right, right, you die, I flee,” Eric said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “I made no promise about not trying to figure out who’s murdering our neighbors.”

“Mr. Bitty?”

Jack and Eric looked up in tandem to find Tony poking his head into the office. He looked back and forth between them, just now seeming to realize he’d interrupted a fight.

“What is it, Tony?” Eric asked, smiling pleasantly at the boy. This didn’t seem to instill any confidence in the cashier, and he cast one last nervous look at Jack before speaking again.

“Um, there’s a guy here for you,” he said tentatively, as if this stranger were the root of the argument he’d happened upon. “Says he wants PSL cookies, but only if he knows you made ‘em.”

Eric was torn between giggling in delight and cowering under Jack’s glare. “Thank you, hun. Let him know I’ll be out in a hot second.”

Tony nodded and disappeared quickly. The moment the door closed behind him, Jack rounded on Eric.

“Absolutely not-”

“Jack, it’s not-”

“-a hunter , for fuck’s sake-”

“-would you rather I be rude to the man who wants us dead-”

They both paused, staring angrily at each other. Eric sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to tempt fate, Jack, nor am I trying to date a hunter. I’m not the idiot you seem to think I am.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Jack said softly. “I just...worry.”

“Obviously,” Eric chirped, allowing himself a small smile. “Jack, I promise not to get us killed by selling cookies to a stranger.”

“I know,” Jack said, huffing with laughter. “Just… be careful.”

“You, too,” Eric said. “You know I worry about you as often as you worry about me.”

Jack smiled sadly and leaned forward to kiss the top of Eric’s head. “I know. Now go out there and sell some cookies.”

“Stop telling me what to do ,” Eric chirped as he left. Jack’s laughter followed him to the front room, where Justin stood awkwardly at the counter.

“Hey,” he said, smiling as Eric approached. “I hope I’m not pulling you away from something, I just wanted to- um…”

Eric’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, ha, no, just arguing with Jack about, uh, next week’s special. Since it’s getting close to Halloween, I wanted to go all-out with some really silly recipes—‘poisoned’ candy apples, white chocolate strawberry ‘ghosts,’ ‘bloody’ cheesecake—but Jack says they’re too expensive for such speciality items.”

Justin looked properly offended on Eric’s behalf, and Eric wished he’d been there when Eric and Jack had actually had that argument a week ago. “Those sound so cool, though!”

“ Thank you ,” Eric said, hands on his hips. “I think the kids of the neighborhood would really like it!”

“Does the bakery get a lot of trick-or-treaters?” Justin asked, and Eric ignored the curious stares he was getting from Tony and Conner. Though they’d never been explicitly told that Jack and Eric were an item, Eric assumed most people in town were under that impression.

“Oh, yes,” Eric said, pointing down at the tray of PSL cookies displayed prominently in the glass case. Justin nodded eagerly. “A lot of parents take the real young ones around to the shops before dark, so they can still have fun but not be out past their bedtimes with the big kids.” He paused, biting his lip, and added, “There are so many fat babies in pumpkin suits that come in every year—I live for it, honestly.”

Justin laughed brightly, and Eric felt an ache in his chest at how handsome his smile was, how open and happy.

“How many d’you want?” He asked, grateful Justin was the only customer in line.

Justin scoffed. “I was being serious when I said I needed, like, a dozen.”

Eric rolled his eyes fondly and grabbed the cup of broken cookie pieces he used for samples. “Might wanna try ‘em first, huh?”

Justin gave a dramatically put-upon sigh and popped the cookie chunk into his mouth. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he gave Eric a wide, cookie-stuffed grin.

“I changed my mind,” he said, slamming a hand down on the counter. “I need two dozen of these immediately .”

Eric laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “And how on Earth would you manage to eat twenty four of these before they go stale?”

“Eric,” he said, his smile too charming to be real. “You underestimate me.”

And Lord help him, Eric laughed at that like the flirt he was. Now everyone’s gonna think you’re a cheater, he thought glumly. A flirt and a cheat, that Eric Bittle .

“Well, if you insist,” he said, pulling out one of his orange (for Halloween!) bakery boxes and counting out two dozen cookies. “So, I know I’m not supposed to ask about top-secret FBI junk…”

Justin sighed heavily. “Investigation isn’t going great. Hols- Adam’s upset. He, uh, thought we would’ve caught the perps by now.”

Eric laughed nervously, neatly closing the box and tying it off with a black ribbon. “He’s that confident in y’all’s abilities?”

“Well, we are the best,” Justin joked. “But it’s...probably more personal than is wise.”

The fact that Justin was telling him all this led Eric to hope that he and Jack were not suspects, especially not after all the holy water he’d had to drink the night before. “What was it you were calling him just now? Holst?”

“Holster,” Justin said with an easy grin. “It’s a dumb nickname from our hockey days.”

“It’s cute,” Eric said, handing over the box. When Justin reached for his wallet, Eric waved him off. “On the house. I’m serious.”

“Dude,” Justin said, brow furrowed. “You can’t just give me all these cookies for free. Won’t Jack-?”

“Oh, but it’s not for free,” Eric said, chiding himself for the way he leaned closer, elbows propped on the counter. “In exchange, I wanna know your embarrassing nickname.”

Justin laughed, throwing his head back. “Okay, okay. But only because your friends call you Bitty.” He paused, looking around, and leaned in to whisper, “Ransom.”

Eric grinned. “Ransom and Holster. That’s adorable.”

Justin shrugged, straightening with a charming grin. “We try.”

“Well, go on and be a hero,” Eric said, shooing Justin away a little reluctantly. “Don’t let me keep you from solving crimes, Ransom .”

Ransom winked at him and left, box tucked under his arm. Eric sighed and headed back into the kitchen, tugging at the collar of his shirt. It certainly had gotten hotter in here, hadn’t it?

“Ransom and Holster,” he murmured again as he returned to the rows of cookie dough that needed cutting—all destined to be shaped like pumpkins and bats and ghosts. He laughed and grabbed his box of cutters. It was going to be a long morning, with the image of Ransom’s smile in his mind. “Cute.”

“RANSOM AND HOLSTER?!”

It was only noon and Eric was already tired of Jack yelling at him. “Yes, it’s their hockey nicknames or something. What’s wrong?”

Jack looked like he was dangerously close to punching a wall. (Or through one, if Eric were being realistic.) “Ransom and Holster are two of the most dangerous hunters in the country,” he growled. “They nearly got Parse.”

Eric’s eyes widened. He’d never met Kent Parson, but he’d heard of the night Jack had almost died to save Parson’s life from the clutches of hunters. That had been the night he’d given up human blood forever—with the exception of the encounter in Atlanta…

“It’s them ?” Eric hissed, hand flying to his mouth. “You didn’t recognize them?”

“It was dark,” Jack defended, running a hand through his hair. “And everything happened so fast.”

“You don’t think they recognize you, do you?”

Jack shrugged. “Holster might. He’s been watching me.”

Eric let out a distressed huff, slumping against the wall. He’d been so sure, with the way Ransom had been acting...but now the smiles and flirtation seemed to make sense. Why else would someone like him flirt with someone like Eric? “Do we leave, then?”

Jack shook his head. “They’ll chase us if we leave now. But I’m going to call George, just in case. Make preparations for you.”

“Me?” Eric hated when Jack got this way, more martyr than vampire. “Jack, you’re coming with me.”

“You know I’m not,” Jack said simply. “If they come for us, they come for me . You’re the one who will make it out of this alive.” The you’re the one who deserves to live was unspoken, but still hurt Eric’s heart the way it always did when Jack spoke like that.

“I’m not having this argument again,” Eric said wearily. “Are you following them tonight?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “I’ve asked the others to come hang out with you while I’m gone.”

“You mean babysit me,” Eric said sharply. “Make sure I don’t come after you.”

Jack shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“I hope it’s really boring,” Eric said petulantly. “I hope they bore you to death.”

Jack laughed and ruffled Eric’s hair. “Thanks. Now get back to work.”

“You’re the worst business partner ever,” Eric said as Jack left the kitchen. “I’m plotting a coup with Tony and Conner! It’ll be my bakery soon enough!”

But Jack was gone and Eric was left with his worry, so he did what he had to; he baked.

The get-together that night was low-key and almost boring. Shitty—whose bracelet was set to THEY/THEM—napped on Eric’s couch while Lardo did work for a new client on her laptop. Chowder was sprawled across an armchair, texting Caitlin with a goofy grin.

“Anyone need anything?” Eric asked, pacing the room nervously. “Snacks? Drinks?”

“Chill, Bits,” Lardo said without looking up. “He’s fine. Sit down.”

“It’s been hours,” Eric said, wringing his hands together. “What if-?”

Before he could finish his thought, there was a knock at the door. Eric and Lardo exchanged a look, and very cautiously Eric moved to look through the peephole. Maybe Jack lost his keys. Maybe it was one of the neighbors, asking for a cup of sugar. Maybe-

Eric threw the door open to find Ransom slumped on the floor, covered in blood and clutching his stomach. How he’d gotten to the apartment, up the stairs-

“Help,” Ransom whispered, looking up at Eric with pained, unfocused eyes.

“Hang on, hun,” Eric breathed. “We’ll call an ambulance-”

“ No ,” Ransom choked out, reaching for Eric. “No hospitals. No police.”

Hunters, it appeared, were as stupid as vampires. “You need a doctor.”

“Please,” Ransom said. “No doctors.”

“Ransom,” Eric said, cupping his face with his hands. “Justin. Where’s Adam? What happened?”

“I think…” Ransom grabbed at Eric’s arm. “I think they got him.”

Eric turned to look at the others, all of whom now stood behind him, and the dark look in Lardo’s eyes confirmed what he’d feared. If they’d gotten Holster, chances were they’d gotten Jack, too.

Ransom slumped in his arms and the smell of him—of his blood—was overwhelming. Eric had never longed to feed so intensely, but he shook himself out of it. “Take him inside,” he whispered, nodding to Chowder. “Patch him up as best you can. I know-” He continued as Chowder tried to protest. “You haven’t refreshed on your training, I know. But you were a paramedic for years, Chris. I believe in you.”

“If Chow can’t do it, we’re taking him to the hospital,” Lardo said.

“I know.” Shitty and Chowder were carefully carrying Ransom into the apartment. “I have to go find them.”

“I know,” she said, and pulled him into a tight, quick hug. “Go get those knuckleheads back.”

Eric nodded, casting one last glance at Ransom before turning on his heels and sprinting downstairs, out into the night.

#bittyrans #jackholtz #omgcp rare pair #anna writes things #check please!#omgcp fic

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lexpistachio · 8 years ago

Text

just jackparse - a ficrec

for my sister who requested this rec 82 years ago. special thanks for those who painstakingly linked me new fics in my askbox. you’re the real mvp!

some things first:

divided into AU, pre-canon, canon/canon divergence, and future

word length categorized as

short fic = less than 10,000 words medium = 10,000 - 20,000 words long = 20,000 - 60,000 words novel length = 60,000 - 100,000 words

format as follows:

title - author | rating | length | various tags | gratutious commentary by me

summary

just ctrl+f if you wanna find by rating (e.g search for: long) or other tags (eg. smut, humor, au)

★ are personal faves

some liberty was taken in rating fics that are not rated

might update in the future; if i missed something, i’ll be happy to read your rec!

Kent pressed his fingers into his eyes until his vision swam for reasons other than the salty tears welling up in them. “Are you seriously asking me to fly across the goddamn country to hold your hand while you cut me out of your life?” me: you know what this fandom needs? me: an eternal sunshine au me: only without the happy ending

I’ve Been Closing My Eyes by perfectpro ★ - teen | long | inception au | angst | you don't understand how much love i have for this fic. SO MUCH LVOE

Jack Zimmermann? You worked with him and Kent Parson together? What happened?” Bitty asks before he can help himself.

Everyone’s heard the stories. Parse and Zimms, taking the world of dream share by storm, trained by Dominic Cobb himself. Ten years later, no one’s heard from either in two years.

Shrugging his shoulders, Shitty tries to think of how to phrase it. “No one comes out of Limbo the same.”

Kent knew about superstitions before he made it to hockey. He knew about black cats and broken mirrors. About stepping on cracks and throwing pinches of salt over his shoulder. Kent knew about magic before he found hockey.

Jack hums and smiles, but otherwise doesn’t respond. They sit in silence, and he bites his tongue to keep from saying anything. There is no sense disrupting this fragile peace that they have.

Here is the deal he has made with himself: Jack is forbidden, until after the curse of the seventeenth summer. Kent does not want to do anything to let the gods know how they could hurt him the worst.

why do we fall? by sparklyslug - teen | short | touch telepath! jack au | epikegster | angst

“Didja miss me?” Kent had asked / looking strong/ look good/ looking happy/I could stand here all night and all day and just look at you/ and Jack’s control had crumbled, jerked him out of step with time and out into the swirling minds of the college kids filling their house, his consciousness sent running by the brightness in his own chest.

Corporal Kenny,” Jack huffed into Kent’s ear. The arms around his waist tightened.

“Captain Jack,” Kent teased right back. “You outrank me, Zimms.”

The Daily Grind by JaneJHills - mature | long | abandoned wip | the coffeeshop au that was foretold

It’s not that Jack wasn’t into relationships; it’s just that Jack wasn’t a relationships kind of guy.

maybe i’m falling for you by madameofmusic - teen | short | coffeeshop au | this is really cute <3 i too lament the lack of more cutesy coffeeshop aus from this ship. this one’s great tho

Jack’s normal coffee shop relocates, and he’s forced to start buying from the cat-themed coffee shop down the street, Catppuccino. It’s cheesy as hell, but the coffee’s good, and the "purrista” better. Jack doesn’t miss the old shop.

“Shush,” Kent says. “What have you got that says, like, thanks for not judging me when I get wasted on Moscato and pass out on your couch, and also sorry about that? Hypothetically.”

��Hypothetically,” says the florist, lips quirking, “I’d recommend either white tulips or blue hyacinths.”

Even the plainest of the plain shall deign to reign (and boy, you're reigning over me) by exbex - gen | short | high school au | chubby!jack | kent pining over shy jack is cute, yes

Lardo looks at Kent with the most knowing look he’s ever seen aside from his own mother’s. “Kent,” she finally replies, “I like you Bro. So I’m going to give you the following information. Information, which, I assure you, is publicly available. Jack, who transferred in weeks ago, Oh Unobservant One, knows me through GSA. Jack is not straight. Jack likes hockey, among other things. And that is all the emotional labor that I am doing for free.”

Shitty found Kent on the porch. “Saw your girl here,” he said. “Can’t believe you actually got her to come to a party.”

“She’s not my girl,” said Kent, trying not to blush.

“She should be,” Shitty said, smiling and leaning against the railing. “Blind man could see the way you look at her, and you’re the only person she likes at school.”

Twenty Feet Back by floatingstark - mature | short | wip | daddy!jack au as in literally-a-dad-jack

Kent is aware this is a little odd; he’s standing behind some trees on the other side of the park, pretending to stretch but actually just high-key spying on a hot dad and his kid.

i'll be your platinum by achilleees ★ - explicit | medium | sugar daddy!jack au | daddy kink | angst and fluff | this is the one daddy kink fic that made me swoon, it's the banter and the way they fall for each other slowly that takes my breath away | sorta sequels here and here | better yet, read all the entire unrelated daddykink series she wrote

Wicks took a deep breath, then let out in a rush, “So I’ve been catfishing this dude online with your pictures so he’ll buy me free stuff, only now he wants to meet in person to hand off the suit jacket I need for Ginger’s wedding tomorrow, so I need you to meet him outside the Burberry at the Copley mall tonight to pick it up for me.”

Kent couldn’t speak for a minute, because he was laughing too hard.

here in the present tense by achilleees ★ - teen | short | soulmate au | bodyswap |

Jack isn’t really sure what he was expecting when he went to sleep on August 2.

Kind of. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that he genuinely thought he’d wake up in Georgia, in those checker-patterned, sunlight-limned sheets. That he’d go downstairs and hear Suzanne Bittle bustling around in the kitchen, and greet her wearing her son’s socks and his pajamas and his sweet, bashful blush.

Dynamite Boy by TomatoBird - gen | short | wreck it ralph au | glitch!jack | the concept is genius, i’d gladly read 50k more words of this

In which Jack is simultaneously a glitch, a child of champions, and an aspiring player in Hero’s Duty, and Kent is just someone he happens to meet along the way.

“You don’t have to trust me,” Kent said, “you just have to let me do this.”

Jack has spent many years away from his father's court. Now he must return to wed Kent Parson at last, with all those years and hurts between them. It's not pretty.

the light of all lights by decinq - mature | short | vampires au | look, it's not endgame and has open-ended j/b ugh but i feel like every ficrec should have at least one vampire au

Jack says, “Would you rather be able to fly or have super speed.”

The corners of Kent’s mouth tug into a small smile, and he says, “Compared to you, I do have super speed.”

Jack elbows him, hard. Jack asks, “What about being able to see the future?”

Kent thinks, they’ll end the movie here.

The story, of course, goes on.

rentboy jack and his nhl star boyfriend series by achilleees - rentboy!jack | prostitution au |

so put it on me - explicit | short | pining | smut

It will be a cold day in hell before Kent has the fortitude to say no to that pout.

“Ugh,” he says. “It’s just a dumb fantasy, man, it doesn’t matter.”

Jack cocks his head at him. “I am in the business of fulfilling fantasies,” he says. or, eloquently summed up by a friend: "Ugh poor Kent is so in love"

all the hearts they're messing with - teen | short | angst and fluff | trade |

As soon as Kent gets home, he pulls out a pad of paper and a pen and makes a list of his options.

1. Tell Jack you got traded. Get dumped. Cry in your cheerios.2. Hide from Jack that you were traded. Buy out (?) the Vegas media so they don’t cover the story. Bribe NHL.com Break Jack’s laptop so he can’t read NHL.com anymore. Fly back on off-days (?). Have plan fall through because plan is dumb. Get dumped. Cry in cheerios.

“Are you mad at me?” Kent says.

Jack meets his eyes in the mirror, gaze stormy.

“I’m just trying to get along with your parents,” says Kent. “I thought that’s why you brought me here.”

Second Chance by bittlebunny - mature | short | blind date au

“I know, I’m sorry.” Jack repeats. “It was wrong. I just didn’t know what to do, I don’t usually do that type of thing.”

“You should more often. You know you could probably get laid every night if you wanted to?”

Jack blushes and looks down into his black coffee, not quite agreeing with that sentiment.

This is a 16-fic series that centers around Jack and Kent and their history and their future. It follows canon, with one major difference; Bitty decided not to go to Samwell. Each fic is named after and based around a song on the Deluxe version of Troye Sivan’s album Blue Neighborhood. The first two fics are chronological, because they’re in the fic’s current time (2018) in the frame of the story. Most of the fics in the series are told through flashbacks and time jumps, though, and the stories switch back and forth between Jack and Kent’s perspectives.

pre-canon

meet you in the middle by madameofmusic - teen | short | pre-slash

Kent meets Jack Zimmermann for the first time.

A lot of things can happen if a cat is set loose in an ice rink; Kent never thought this would be one of them.

Or: “I may have brought my pet to the rink by accident and it may have escaped you have to help me.” AU

it’s too close for comfort by achilleees - teen | short | pre-slash | cats

“Go suck your own dick,” Parse grumbled. “I’ma find the cat.” Both pairs of shoes wandered away, and Jack was almost relieved until suddenly, without warning, the high tops came back and light flooded his sanctuary as someone crouched and lifted the hem of the tablecloth.

“Hey, you,” Parse said to either Jack or the cat, he couldn’t tell.

the bluest things on earth by blazeofglory - gen | short | drabble | pre-slash

Kent Parson isn't gay, he isn't, but there's... There's something about Jack Zimmermann.

Even though they're linemates, Jack doesn't know Kent all that well. He certainly doesn't expect the American to come look after him when he's unwell on their first roadie.

Count on It by bienenalster - gen | short | pre-slash | codependency | world juniors

Specifically, in which Jack and Kent fail at playing against each other.

Generally, in which Jack and Kent fail at being reasonable human beings. Or, the lighter side of codependency.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by bienenalster, Pax - teen | short | pre-slash maybe | mutual enabling

Jack can appreciate a good game of beer pong in someone's basement, especially when Parse is on his team, one arm around his shoulder as he tries to get Jack to miss his shot.

(Jack never really understood how Parse can just turn it off like that. If you want to win on the ice, then you should want to win all the time. Even at stupid things, like beer pong.)

(Jack has never considered the possibility that beer pong might not be the only game Parse is playing.)

but then his hands roamed by defcontwo - teen | short | first kiss

Jack’s hand pressed into the small of Parse’s back during team meetings, where no one else can see, and Parse toppling into Jack’s lap whenever he gets drunk enough that no one will blink twice at it.

A game of chicken, or a game of chance. Jack doesn’t know which one it’s going to be just yet.

you're neck and neck or cheek to cheek by punkpadfoot - teen | short | first kiss | i'm in love with the author's style of writing, and i love the tentativeness in this fic--they're shy and hesitant; their dilemma feels true

Kent’s always been fairly affectionate, but this thing with Jack is something else entirely.

the spark in your eyes, the look on your face by oscarmild - teen | short | drabble

Jack knows that Kent is his friend- his best friend, even. But lately, it’s been starting to feel like more than just friends.

Insults for Your Lovers by SummerFrost - teen | short | inter-class | social class difference | friends to lovers

Things Jack has: Brand new yellow sneakers, an expensive truck, Kent Parson.

Things Kent has: Converse with holes in them, riding shotgun, Jack Zimmermann.

Count on It by bienenalster - gen | short | preslash | codependency | world juniors

Specifically, in which Jack and Kent fail at playing against each other.

Generally, in which Jack and Kent fail at being reasonable human beings. Or, the lighter side of codependency.

What's Better Than This? Just Guys Bein' Dudes by Bittyybee (sunlight) - mature | short | massages | first kiss | ust

Kent's shoulders hurt. Jack gives good massages.

Kent spends the beginning of his summer with hockey prodigy/best friend Jack Zimmermann because they're young and they can and Kent likes getting free things.

"I know how you get all psycho near a game, don't worry. Just uh- maybe find a healthy way to release that frustration." Kate suggested as she turned and winked at Jacq. "Y'know what I mean?"

"Not hockey?" Jacq asked confused.

"Not hockey." Kate repeated, meeting Jacqs eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

its pimms cis swap smut!! enjoy!!

A Quiet Kind of Intimacy by alpha_exodus - explicit | short | first time | smut | photography

Jack doesn't really care about having a roommate on this roadie - that is, until he heads to his room and finds out his roommate is Kent Parson.

touches my foolish heart by foxfireflamequeen - explicit | short | first time | pwp

“That,” says Kent. “Was the most uncool moment of my life.”

Jack’s still laughing, the fucker.

First by omgericzimmermann - gen | short | first times | drabble | fluff and angst

They were just kids.

They were so young that everything was a first.

tear at the seams by defcontwo - mature | short | drabble | angsty smut

This is what Jack lives for: The second he touches down on the ice, his mind clears. For sixty minutes, he is nothing but a blank slate, a white board that fills itself up with plays and tactics, a steady hand on the stick and a heart that beats for nothing else.

So he sits next to Jack on roadies, bumping their shoulders together amicably as Jack chews on his lip and stares out the window at the passing scenery. He leans into every casual touch - Jack’s gloved hand on his back, their skates knocking together on the bench. Seeks him out on the ice, feeling a thrill when their passes connect effortlessly; slams him into the boards after game-winning goals, their teammates piling up around them but it’s Kent’s fist clutching the back of Jack’s jersey, Kent’s voice yelling in Jack’s ear.

If Jack notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Kent still hopes.

Good Things Ahead by perfectpro - teen | short | fwb

Jack doesn't want to go to a party, but Kent's pretty sure that he can be convinced.

Mutually Assured by Verbyna - teen | short | codependency | has kent/ofc | angst

The smile on Kent’s face is all wrong. He fixes it.

we gaze up at the stars above our heads by alyssakate - teen | short | fluff (mostly)

I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, or when we meet our ends, but please just let me hold your hand.

There's thirty-four days of what feels like an endless summer stretched between the Memorial Cup and the NHL draft. Thirty-four days days of each other. Thirty-four days left.

four strong winds by defcontwo - teen | short | fluff with an angsty ending? (a tag that could be patented to this ship that's for sure) | i just love my teenage boys on dates and living in the moment ok

The sales pitch is irrelevant: this moment right here, sitting in the front of Kent’s piece of shit pickup truck, listening to “Party in the USA” on the radio at top volume – that’s all the convincing Jack ever needed.

Or: Kent and Jack, a carnival, and the last gasp of the 34 days.

follow my lead by mardia - explicit | short | the seduction of jack zimmermann | kent here is wily but his conviction is compelling | podfic available

Kent likes to have his fun, likes to mess with people, but there's something about messing with Jack that's just so deeply satisfying for him. He can poke and poke and he'll get a reaction every single time. No matter what, no matter how blatant Kent gets or how he pushes it, he'll get that same wide-eyed disbelieving stare, that same red blush staining Jack's cheeks.

New things by robokittens - explicit | short | smut | pwp

"Jack," Kent mumbles into Jack's neck. "I wanna try something."

wax/wane - explicit | short | angst | smut

Things will come full circle for Kent – he's sure of it.

party pieces by familiar - explicit | short | smut | pwp | painplay

From the early 2008 so-bad-it's-good sex idea vault: "It’s just him and Kent and the really stupid idea that was beating his ass raw with a hockey stick." Gotta hit it with something, you know?

search the world for something else by somehowunbroken - mature | short | second person POV | angst | au

Your name is Jack Zimmermann, and you were born into hockey.

Ode to Joy by coyotesuspect - mature | short | drunk sex

December 31st, 2008. Parse has a good feeling about the new year.

mess you made by schwule - mature | short | angst

Jack’s life hasn’t been very exciting, despite what people may think. Kent might just be the most thrilling thing that’s ever happened to him.

only time is ours by thistidalwave - mature | short | angst

Jack always feels like he’s running. Running to catch up. Running to get ahead. Lungs burning. Legs about to give out. Falling behind, behind, behind. Coming in dead last, even when he hits the finish line before anyone else.

Leaving Me Stranded by mardia - explicit | short

Jack’s dad and Kent really get along great. Which isn’t a surprise, they’re basically the same sort of person--outgoing, funny, always ready with a story or joke--so when Kent comes out to dinner with Jack and his family, it’s basically those two monopolizing the conversation for the entire meal.

an empty room by quietest_one - explicit | short | smut | established relationship

The Combine is a mad rush of a long weekend, painfully sober, gloriously exhausting. Kent is on the road to reaching his dreams, and he's taking Jack along for the ride. (Or, two boys exchange handjobs around the back of a gym. Whichever you prefer.)

the heart is a risky fuel to burn by idrilka - mature | fluff and angst | established relationship

Montreal in summer is hot as hell, the heat sticky and clinging to the skin. (There were the thirty-four days in the summer of 2009, between winning the Memorial Cup and the NHL Entry Draft in Montreal, where things were perfect. This is one of those days.)

let me feel i'm falling safely to the ground by natscribbles - mature | short

Kent doesn't know which what ifs are more dangerous, can't tell which ones hurt the most.

I Love You, He Thinks by blithelybonny - teen | short

It's the night before the draft, and Kent knows that this is probably the end.

my versailles at night by thistidalwave - teen | short | au | first kiss

But now—now it’s the quiet of the early morning, they just won the Memorial Cup, and Jack doesn’t want to let this moment pass him by.

where we went by speedboat - mature | short | dysfunctional relationship

Once in the car, Kent does three things: he googles "valium+vodka"; he shakes Jack awake; and he takes a napkin and wipes the tears away from Jack's face.

or: Parse was the one who found Jack during his overdose.

or: In Defense of Kent Parson.

34 days by thistidalwave - explicit | short | fluff and angst

There were the 34 days in the summer of 2009, between winning the Memorial Cup and the NHL Entry Draft in Montreal, where things were perfect. Who wouldn’t want that back?

it's the stars that score by perfectpro - mature | medium | angst

It’s a week until the NHL draft. A week until he stops competing with Kent and starts competing against him. A week until he finds out if his dad’s name carries more weight than Kent’s skill does, and Jack sometimes has a hard time breathing when he starts thinking about it.

It’s why he tries not to think about it.

Three Words, Repeated by Freudianity - explicit | short | fluff with an angsty ending

5+1 Five times Jack told Kent he loved him, and one time he didn't.

to you he is a room by punkpadfoot - teen | short | angst | kent pov to the story followed by the next in this list

He’s happy now—the weather is warm and the grass is soft and there’s still a pleasant buzz in his head. Jack is close enough to touch. Right now, summer’s end feels distant, less of a looming presence and more of an exit they’ve yet to reach.

to them he is a mirror by misandrywitch - teen | short | angst | jack pov to the story which precedes this in this list

All Jack knows is that after this summer, everything is going to be different.

larger than life by Verbyna - teen | short | also helpfully tagged as: the making of Kent "Victory" Parson“

Everything feels like the end of the world when it happens. No one can see the future, so it’s hard to believe it exists.”

Kent’s dad wasn’t always right, but he was right about that.

if you are looking for the demons that play well with your own by storiesfromtheden - gen | short | angst

Kent spent years counting the things that were not right.

Like A Missing Limb series by thatallone - teen | short | angst | suicide attempt

Without You

Prompt: "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

[delete]

Kent typed out a lot of texts to Jack in the summer of 2009. He never worked up the nerve to send any of them.

physical or otherwise by jedusaur (podfic - audio only) - explicit | audio length: 3:33 mins | this is short and packs quite a punch; please give it a listen!

"Listen to me, Jack. I am not going first in the draft because of your shitty impulse control."

city without seasons by thepalebluedot - teen | short | angst

It’s hard to measure time in a city you don’t believe in.

Kent after the draft.

Countdown by SummerFrost - mature | short | drabble | angst

Kent Parson spends three years of birthdays asking for Jack Zimmermann. Jack gives what he can; sometimes it's enough.

what might have been lost - mature | short | angst | ransom and holster reads fic au | 5+ 1

five times jack and kent loved each other (and one time they couldn't)

So if you don't mind, I'll walk that line by alyssakate - teen | short | au |

Kent and Jack play each other at World Juniors in 2008 and then again in 2009.

A story about winning, losing and coming to terms with what really matters.

no sign of land by perichareia - gen | short | unrequited love | angst | 2nd Person POV

i love him.

you’re seventeen years old and the words echo in your head like the aftershock of a heavy check into the glass. for a long moment, your world stops.

dodging bullets with your broken heart by perfectpro - gen | short | angst | mostly jack-centric, but i feel like it's in-character with how jack compartmentalizes his life, which explains a lot about the tension with Kent refusing to be boxed and be forgotten

Kent belongs back in Juniors. Kent belongs at Rimouski, and on the bus traveling to roadies, and on the ice with Oceanic. Kent does not belong on the front porch of the Haus.

Five scenes between Ashley Parson and her brilliant, miserable, wonderful big brother. Or: Kent Parson, growing up.

Role Models by MisconductandMimosas - gen | medium | au | read the rest of the series here

Jack and Kent both missed the draft, albeit for completely different reasons

-or-

“For your ThrowBack Thursday of the week, we sat down with two of the NHL’s finest, Trotsy of the Aces and McLeed of the Rangers to talk their record-breaking Memorial Cup win as well as former juniors star and Zimmermann liney- Kent-“ Holster looked at the magazine article and blinked- “Parson,” he said at a lower volume. “Kent Parson? I forgot about that guy. How did they even find him?”

history begins to be blue and brown eyes by decinq - teen | short | angsty ending, with j/b

There are articles upon articles about their on-ice chemistry, the way they move around each other like the well-oiled grooves of an impeccable machine.

welcome to the second reel by idrilka - teen | short | angst

They win at home. It goes all the way to game six, and then they win in their own home arena after it goes to double overtime, and Kent gets to lift thirty-four pounds of silver into the air.

(In the aftermath of the Aces' first Stanley Cup Championship title, Kent goes to Samwell on his Cup day.)

This is What Happy Looks Like by VerityR ★ - teen | short | angst | i just like the author’s writing of it

It’s been years. Six of them. Kent Parson is not still in love with Jack Zimmermann. But it’s not like he’s in love with anybody else. So when, in his dreams, he stumbles upon something approaching happiness, maybe the figure is vaguely Jack-shaped. Jack-adjacent. But that’s not the same thing as love.

canon/canon divergent

past the last exit by misandrywitch ★ - teen | medium | the prose on this one blows me away

Jack wonders when Kent started asking so many questions that he doesn't have the answers to. It felt so much easier when neither of them asked any at all.

Shut the God Damn Door by jedusaur - mature | short | au | angst maybe? short but poignant

What if Jack went first overall, as planned, and took his addiction with him to Vegas?

"Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again.

Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop.

i thought of you and where you'd gone by runphoebe - mature | short | angst with a hopeful ending | has k/omc | love the fics like this that don't view jack with rose colored glasses

When Kent’s name gets called first, he smiles, and when he slips the jersey over his head, he smiles, and when he realizes he’s going to be in Vegas, Las fucking Vegas, he smiles so hard his cheeks ache. Just because Jack’s a huge fucking fuck up who can’t handle being number one doesn’t mean Kent’s going to cry about it.

In which Kent doesn't even bother trying to get over Jack because he knows it's a huge waste of his time.

you're writing your tragedy by forochel - teen | short | angst | podfic available Year 2, Comic 9, Parse - Part III, from Kent's perspective. | epikegster

I basically took 'Kent "Baby One More Time" Parson' and ran with it.

you're familiar like my mirror years ago by nighimpossible - explicit | short | accidental voyeurism | epikegster

Kent and Jack get reacquainted at the Epikegster.

Alternatively: Bitty hears something he shouldn't have.

New Start by SalazarTipton - teen | short | morning after | fluff | post-epikegster

The morning after falling into bed together during Epikegster, Jack wakes up in Kent’s arms.

To Hell With Why by angelsaves - explicit | short | j/p/omc threesome | smut | my alternative excerpt/summary: id have a 3some w/u, Parse texts him after a while. Thanks, Jack replies

Jack has been over Parse for ages. (At least, that's what he tells himself.) In which there is bad-idea sex, accidental voyeurism, an invitation (or two) to a threesome, an actual threesome, and 0% "being over each other" by volume.

the epikegster remix series by defcontwo

you can take this heart - teen | short | epikegster | reconciliation

"So, what the hell was that, then?"

Or: a way that Epikegster could have gone differently.

and don't let go - teen | short | post-epikegster | fluff

"Did you miss me at all?"

Or: what happens when a pair of dumbasses use their words a little better.

down the backs of tabletops by defcontwo - teen | short | has mentions of k/omc and past j/b

Breakups are a kind of private war, Jack guesses.

varied my velocities by punkpadfoot ★ - teen | short | tentative friendship | tears were shed in the reading of this fic

This should feel like a victory. This shouldn't feel like tiptoeing around broken glass.

This Time (I'm Telling You, I'm Telling You) by sparklyslug - mature | short | angst | established relationship

He and Zimms, they’re pretty good at breakups, historically. They’re pretty good at what comes after the breakup, anyway.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible - teen | short | humor | only j/p if you squint but it's goddamn hilarious with a side of ransom and holster

5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth.

Not Quite Too Late by loveandallthat - explicit | short | au | reconciliation | ahhhh this is nice

Jack accidentally confesses on live television that he had a young love that ended badly. It’s possible that this isn’t quite as bad as he thinks it is.

Seven-Year Itch by Idday ★ - teen | medium | fake/pretend relationship | married au | angst with a happy ending

“I’m sorry,” Georgia says slowly, like she thinks she misheard him. “You said you’re… married?”

Amanda raises her eyebrows and taps something onto her keyboard. “That’s good to know, Mr. Zimmermann, but I’m sure you know that many of our players are married.”

“Right, but this is… different.” Jack says.

“Jack,” Georgia says, “Why did you never mention this before? Do I know your wife?”

“I’m sure you do,” Jack says carefully, “Only… it’s not a wife. It’s Kent Parson.” ... (So what if they’re not pretending to be married. They’re still pretending to be happily married.)

the nearer your destination by achilleees - teen | short | angst | open-ended

“Parse fought Averin because he was talking shit about you,” Max said bluntly. “And you being here is not going to put him in a better emotional state.”

neutral zone stickhandling by achilleees - explicit | short | injury recovery | humor (hallelujiah)

The splint around Kent’s leg is a feat of engineering, a hulking behemoth of black plastic and Velcro, but the crutches are sleek and slim. an alternate take on the March of Jack’s senior year.

Push/Pull by thistidalwave, Verbyna - teen | short | soul bond au | break up | I’m gonna miss him for the rest of my life" stayed with me | why do all the soulbond fics in this pairing all end tragically? Who holds the stars up in the sky? Is true love just once in a lifetime?

He looks at Kent and feels nothing, if nothing feels like a shattered rib cage, all the protection around his heart gone. Kent is right in front of him, his hair falling into his face and his hands clenched in the sheets, but if Jack closes his eyes, Kent could be anywhere.

(or, Jack and Kent can’t keep their bond if they both want to play in the NHL.)

bang the doldrums by Verbyna - explicit | short | has j/b | au but almost canon in my head how jack aggressively minimizes kent's importance in his pre-samwell years lol

Kent Parson is not Jack's friend. He’s a fucking fever.

Maybe Jack's not the only one who's scared.

Kent and Jack come out together. Not together together, though, no matter how much Kent wishes that were true.

Alternately titled: "the jackparse get back together fic."

Kent Parson has well over ninety-nine problems. He has a chronic potty mouth, a sneaking suspicion he may be an actual idiot, a narcissistically-named cat with gas issues, too many sisters... the list goes on.

Kent Parson has more than ninety-nine problems and Jack Zimmermann — freshly, resentfully and recently traded to the Las Vegas Aces — is definitely one of them.

you know i held on too much by unveils - explicit | short | fluff | smut | yay all the way for happy smut

It takes a minute for the pieces to work together in Jack’s brain, but when he catches Kent’s Britney phone case out of the corner of his eye, heat blooms in his chest to match the spread of red across his cheeks, embarrassment and something else entirely. He doesn’t duck his head, but it’s a near thing, under Kent’s crooked grin. “Really? You think now is a good time to be taking pictures?”

Two swipes and a press of Kent’s thumb has his camera app sliding open to the picture he took. Jack cranes his neck to see, but Kent presses the phone into his hand, slides his hands around Jack’s neck. “Dude, yeah. You make me look good, Zimms.” -- or: the one where jack and kent have fun with camera phones!

my honey i know by achilleees - teen | short | possessiveness | jealousy | reconciliation

After that, it happened more often than he would ever have wanted to admit. It was almost too easy; girls were always after Kent, but Kent spent too much of his time looking at Jack to notice.

For example, Kent texted him from chemistry one day. Hey lara and aly wanted 2 know if we wanted 2 go thrifting w them after school 2day. No, was all Jack texted back.

Kk, Kent replied, and they didn’t go thrifting with Lara and Aly after school that day.

we could be made for this by stereosymbiosis - explicit | short | pwp

Kent lifts his head and peers up at Jack. “Hey, Zimms, what kind of soap do you use?”

“I’m not sure this is entirely relevant, Parse,” Jack breathes out. Kent looks at the expanse of skin stretched before him, Jack’s muscles taut and twitching, the fucking perfect rise of Jack’s ass, Jack’s legs spread just so and his knees pressed into the mattress for leverage, and yeah. That can probably wait.

Jersey Memories by SalazarTipton - teen | short | reminiscing | hopeful ending

When Jack goes home to Montreal for break and just wants to get his assignments finished, but his parents keep giving him chores. When his mom sends him to look through his old jerseys, he gets lost in some old memories.

take me back to when we started by madameofmusic - teen | short | reminiscing | reconciliation

Kent gets a package in the mail from Jack six months after Jack signs with the Falconers.

They’re never going to be the same carefree best friends that they once were, and Kent’s getting around to accepting that. Things are good, now, but they’re not the same, and that’s okay. He’s getting used to it.

They’re better than they’ve been in years, and that’s really all that he can hope for, but sometimes Kent remembers all the texts he sent at 2 am and all the responses he never got.

Better the Second Time by loveandallthat - teen | short | au | reconciliation

He gets Jack’s text, “you don’t have to,” thirty seconds before he gets a direct email from Jack’s agent.

Of course he has to.

Or, Jack has a public event before he goes into the NHL, and Jack’s agent insists that it won’t be good publicity unless Kent is also there.

the heaviest of burdens by thekissofbees - mature | short | angsty pining

Kent sleeps with his phone resting on his pillow, the volume cranked up as high as it will go and the vibrate on. He’s stretched the cord of the charger out so that it will reach his bed, and the coating of the wire is beginning to fray and peel off at the top.

(Or: Kent waits for Jack to call.)

Like Slow Motion by apatientwolf - teen | short | reminiscing | angsty pining

//There in the bathroom I try not to fall apart and the sinking feeling starts as I say hopelessly "he said he'd be here"// OR Taylor Swift's discography is the soundtrack of Kent Parson's life.

The one where it's July 4th 2015 in upstate New York.

Getting Some Rest by SalazarTipton - gen | short | established relationship | fluff

There’s a box under Jack’s desk. When he works on a paper, he’ll kick his feet up on it. Everybody that comes in doesn’t notice it. If they did, it just looks like some miscellaneous box of whatever. Nothing special. They wouldn’t think anything of it. No one knows that battered, footprint covered cardboard box is Jack’s lifeline. On his hardest days and in the surreal, dark hours when his insomnia hits, he opens it up and is able to breathe.

Kent likes the difference between their bodies. He likes being shorter than Jack because he can curl comfortably under the weight of Jack’s arm across his shoulders when they stand next to each other, and he likes that Jack’s body on top of his is enough to hold him down and keep him there if Jack doesn’t want him to move. He likes that Jack has big, strong hands and big, thick fingers.

The Aces get knocked out of the playoffs and Kent Parson is having feelings about it. Jack Zimmermann is having feelings about him.

keep your lights on by ladyalysv - explicit | short | rebound sex | au | unapologetically elf-centric jack

At least with Parse, it's hard to fuck things up more. (2016)

when you were there by defcontwo - mature | short | angsty angst

Jack plays the Aces for the first time, and two things happen at once: Jack, nervous and fumbling all the way through the warm up, right down to puck drop when he catches sight of that familiar blonde hair and something in him just settles, winds up playing the most beautiful hockey of his season to date.

And Kent ignores him completely.

Redux series by Idday ★ - established relationship | domesticity | fluff | au | the thing with future-ish jackparse fluff aus is that their issues (e.g. kent's insecurities, or jack's daddy issues) remain to be dealt with and don't vanish by the virtue of love ipso facto, and that's why they're so goddamn satisfying

Like We Were - teen | short | first times (again) | getting back together | friends to lovers

Jack thinks there should be a word for this, for when you fall in love with the same person a second time.

no one has me (like you do) - teen | short | summers and holidays

“Kenny,” Jack says again. “You went golfing for me. That’s how I know it’s real.”

my heart, it came to life - mature | short | family planning??

“Kenny,” Jack says, and falls into the deck chair where Kent is laying out, absorbed in whatever’s on his phone screen. It could be an email from his agent, or it could be a cat video. It’s hard to tell.

The chair is much too small for two fully grown hockey players, but they make it work. Kent drops his phone, but he’s wearing sunglasses, his face hard to read. Jack pulls them down gently until Kent’s squinting up at him, eyes adjusting to the bright afternoon.

“Do you want kids?” Jack asks him.

something about the way you love me (finally feels like home) - teen | short | pseudo-proposal

He loves Jack likes this and loves that he can make him like this—warm and open and laughing with their friends. It makes him stupidly proud, like he has his own personal Jack Zimmermann. He has to share his boyfriend with the rest of the world, sure, but they only get the hockey robot version. Kent gets this Jack, the real Jack, all to himself.

future

“For one player on the Aces, this game represents the return of youth in another, special way. In just three weeks, Kent Parson, captain of the Las Vegas Aces, will not only be returning to the east coast winter of his childhood, but he will have the rare opportunity of being out on the same pond as his former friend and rival, Jack Zimmermann. The opportunity to play a game outdoors may remind them of their childhood, but from sharing a special bond as young teammates to struggling against each other for victory, this game also shows how much has changed with time.“

Kent texted Jack: “fucking epix”.

Dad Hugs by MisconductandMimosas - gen | short | more kent & bad bob tbh but i’ll take more of this rn | fluff

In the summer of 2019, Kent attends Bob Zimmermann’s private Hockey Hall of Fame Induction party

Because Jack is an addict, and some addicts relapse.

Endgame Jack/Kent. I cannot stress this enough.

In Due Time by loveandallthat - teen | short | reconciliation

Jack’s been in the NHL for several years now. The Falconers rose to glory and fell again, just like the Aces. Jack gets on a plane to Vegas.

Behind Closed Doors by loveandallthat - explicit | short | reconciliation | friends to lovers | getting together

It’s just a tabloid. Nobody’s going to believe it anyway; it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Jack can tell himself any one of these things a thousand times and he’s never going to believe them.

Confirmed: Kent Parson Las Vegas Aces’ First Choice All Along It doesn’t even help that the last line is, “When asked for comment, Kent Parson said, ‘Who even cares anymore?’”

17 Again by daeguarchives - teen | short | friends to lovers | angst

“I can’t believe I actually thought I was in love with you, once.”

17 was a bad time for both of them, they both know that. Except now Kent's kidding himself into thinking he can move on and Jack's kidding himself into thinking he has moved on and for some reason, 17 seems a much better time than now.

new jersey is for lovers series by defcontwo, sparkyplugs ★ | it's soft and sweet and sometimes, that's enough

Ready to Walk a Path That's New - teen | short | curtainfic | fluff

They’ll always have things to apologize to each other for. But these days, they’re trying to focus on what they have to thank each other for.

These days, that’s a much longer list.

There's a place for you and me - mature | short | proposal | fluff

“I don’t know, I just, uh. It wasn’t there. He’s not the kind of guy I could see myself ending up with, I guess.”

Jack laughs, warm and close, the standard pre-chirp Zimmermann coming in at the edges. “And what kind of guy would that be?”

Kent swallows hard, and thinks, You. Fuck me, it’s always going to be you. Or: the slow and steady steps to a happily ever after.

“And my running observation is that Parse can’t take a compliment from you without blowing it off. Could be a coincidence, but no evidence to the contrary since I started paying attention,” Ransom said.

“What?” Jack said, right as Kent walked back in the room.

the river twice by Verbyna - teen | short | addiction relapse | angst | hopeful ending at least

Going to Vegas seemed like the only option.

player judged most valuable by achilleees - teen | short

prompt: future fic, jack’s been in the nhl a few years, ignoring parse when they play the aces. he can’t ignore him the night of the nhl awards, not when he looks this good, not when he fucking thanks jack in his hart acceptance speech.

i really really really really really really like you by achilleees ★ - teen | short | insecurity | established relationship | jack reassuring kent is my forever jam

“Hey,” Jack said. “My parents love you, alright? They have never not loved you. This is going to be fine.”

“Condescension negates cookie privileges,” Kent said, and shut the door in his face.

some nebulous universe called domesticity series by alwaysbuddy ★ - established relationship | fluff | humor

keep your hands on me - explicit | short | sex dream | feminization | dirty talk af

“Not a girl then?”

“It was, yeah,” Jack admits, throat feeling a little tight, “you were the girl.

”in search of our lost time - explicit | short | hurt/comfort | bathtub sex

Jack rests a hand lightly on the porcelain, skimming forward to catch one of Kent’s wrists, where it’s dangling off the edge of the tub. Kent immediately turns his hand over, and wraps two fingers around Jack’s own wrist loosely, tugging in a way that says, why aren’t you in here with me yet, huh?

Maybe I'm Not Too Young to be a Cowboy by bsmog - teen | medium | retirement | injury

Kent is 34 years old. He's won everything there is to win in the world of hockey (just not this year, let's not talk about it, okay?), but ever since an injury took Jack out of hockey altogether, there's something missing on the ice. What the hell is the offseason for if not to find out what that is?

If only anything was ever that easy where Jack Zimmermann was concerned.

Wait So Long by perfectpro - gen | short | fluff | wedding and marriage | domesticity

Let it never be said that Kent Parson doesn’t work for what he wants. Trembling, Kent gets off his knee, but he doesn’t close the ring box. “I don’t want to win another Cup alone. I don’t want to win another Cup without you,” he explains, and it’s a confession if it’s anything. He doesn’t know how to make it not true.

Gordie Meow by madameofmusic - teen | short | fluff | established relationship | humor

Kent’s cats are allergic to Jack. This isn’t even the most ridiculous thing Jack’s had to deal with.

Kent “No Chill” Parson by MisconductandMimosas - gen | short | humor | all-star weekend au | established relationship, if you read this first

“Be on my team for the All-Star game,” Kent said suddenly.

Jack chuckled, “They haven’t even announced next year’s format yet. It could be by division this year. Even if it’s not, they could make us opposing captains.”

#omgcheckplease #kent parson #parsepositive #jackparse #pimms #jack zimmermann #fic rec #omgcp

47 notes · View notes

zaddyzimmermann · 8 years ago

Text

OMGCP Beauty and the Beast AU-

Okay so here is what I got done last night and I tried to edit it as best I can! This is the first chapter so there will be more comin.

ANYWAY I hope you enjoy and there is more coming, this is just what I managed to write until I got exhausted and went to bed (I’m lame I know)

So like disclaimer: three PAST character deaths. I also changed up the prologue a little to fit the story. I’m taking a light spin on it, not too many drastic changes (if you count the reason Jack was turned into a beast a drastic change idk)

Here is the ao3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10454391/chapters/23078457

*******

Once upon a time in a faraway land, a prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind.

“Yo, Jack-O!” Bartholomew Knight, strides up to his best friend, admiring the party in front of them. “Wicked party man.”

Jack clears his throat as a few people from his court glance over with judgmental expressions.

“Right. Prince Jack-O.” His best friend bristles a little, slightly annoyed by Jack’s dismissive behavior.

“Where did Kent go?” Jack can’t help but ask, because his other closest friend was nowhere to be seen upon the lively dancing of the party. Usually he’s in the middle of it all.

“Don’t know, Brah. Probably fucked off somewhere--”

Jack shoots him another glare for the language, causing ‘Shitty’ (he liked to call himself just to get on Jack’s nerves) to sigh dramatically.

“Can you be a little less vulgar?” Jack practically bites the words out, sounding extremely unkind. “Why are you with me anyway? Usually you’re following Larissa around right about now.”

“Never mind. Thought you’d want my company, but I guess I’m an embarrassment. Now I know why Kenny dearest isn’t around. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left the palace again.”

The words struck a chord, and Jack watched helplessly as his friend left his side.

But then, one winter’s night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.

“Hey yo, your highness?” Adam Birkholz, one of the guards approached him with his other pair in tow, Justin Oluransi.

“--there’s someone at the door. She’s kinda sketch, but we don’t want to turn away a guest.” Justin says.

“I don’t remember inviting any outsiders.” Jack grunts, but he still follows them and weaves himself through the party. Once the three get to the door, a crouched figure with horrible posture shakes from the cold in a dark cloak covering most of their body. He feels the slightest bit of sympathy, but ever since his parents were assassinated, he trusted absolutely no one, and probably never will again.

“Who are you?” Jack demands, placing himself safely behind his two guards.

An old and scratchy voice responds. “Georgia Martin, no one special. I’m just looking for shelter from the cold. It’s quite a storm out there.”

When Jack doesn’t respond, she clears her throat and reaches down to pull something out of her cloak. Jack stumbles back in fear, and his two guards immediately block him from view.

“Relax, Jack Zimmermann,” --she can’t just address me informally like that-- “It is only a rose. A peace offering and a gift, in exchange for your hospitality.”

Repulsed by her haggard and sketchy appearance, the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances. For beauty is found within, and not every unfamiliar mundane is evil.

“No way am I letting you stay here.” Jack snarls at the woman, setting himself in front of his guards in a fit of anger. “A stranger can’t just waltz in here. This is a palace, not an inn.”

“I will not harm you.” She reassures him. “You have my word. Give me a chance?”

“Only fools allow complete strangers into their home.” Jack says sternly, still a little bit shaken.

“Like your parents?”

His blood runs cold and his hands begin to shake in the beginnings of a panic attack. “Get out.” He snaps, and his tone holds heavy malice that was sharp enough to cut anyone.

And when he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late. For she had seen there was no trust or kindness in his heart.

“Wrong answer, Prince Zimmermann.” Her appearance quickly changes in a flurry of gold light, changing her appearance faster than Jack can process. The gold dissipates, revealing a kind and beautiful face that couldn't possibly be ‘mundane’. Jack suddenly feels the cold twinge of regret as the woman gives him a soft smile. A smile that reminded him a little of his mother, and he felt his heart constrict in sadness.

“Whoa-- what the hell are you?” Adam mutters with a look of blatant surprise, while Justin’s mouth is glued shut in silent terror.

Then Jack feels something warm begin to flood over his body, which he assumes is the feeling of magic. There’s no other explanation.

“Stop it.” Jack glances behind him at his frenzied party guests trying to escape. “I’m sorry. You can stay one night. Just stop whatever you’re doing--”

Those were the last words Jack spoke before he felt his body change, causing slight pain deep in his bones. The heartbreaking shouts from his guests and his closest friends fill his ears, which was the most painful of all.

“Jack!” He hears Kent’s voice sound in the background noise, horrified and frightened. “Goddammit, what have you done?”

And his punishment: she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful curse on the castle and all who lived there.

Like a snap of someone’s finger, everything went silent as objects clattered to the floor and his body burned with a raw sensation.

He glanced in a nearby mirror and reeled backward from what he saw. That woman-- that witch-- had turned him into some kind of monster.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, he concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose. Which would bloom until his twenty-first year if he could learn to love and trust another and earn their love and trust in return.

“Until you can learn to fully love another and trust them with your love, you will stay like this.” The enchantress's voice rang loud and clear, and quite frankly terrifying in the sudden, eerie silence.

And when the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years past, he fell into despair and lost all hope.

“This is for your own good, Jack.”

For who could ever learn to love a beast.

******

“Mama,” Eric slips on his shoes and grabs his bag, ready to slip out the door. “I’ll be right back. I have to grab some eggs from downtown.”

Eric Bittle lived in a small town, one that wasn’t too keen on accepting the fact he liked to bake rather than take the “manly” job in his family. His mother is a very talented baker, so why not take after her? It was only him and his mother, which is why the townspeople were more critical. His father died when he was just a baby. His mom never talked about it, because it was still too hard. All he knows is that he was named after his father, and that his mother missed him every single day.

He always hears what the town says about him, because it still is a very small town and word travels fast. He’s weird. He’s a puzzle that can’t be solved. He’s unconventional, spending all his hours in the kitchen. However, one thing out of all the nonsense is true; He’s gay. And you’re goddamn right he is. It’s no secret, because he doesn’t hide it anymore.

His Mama is always supportive, and that’s all he really cared about anyway. Everyone else is background noise, because Eric Bittle knows there’s something else out there other than this poor provincial town. He has other plans, so none of the whispering and rumors really matter.

“Mama?” He shouts louder so she can hear him this time. “I’m getting more eggs.” He repeats.

She pops her head out from their small kitchen, flower spread across her cheek. “We’re out already?”

“You made that emergency wedding cake for the Williams family, remember?”

“Oh! Right! You’re such a smart boy. Maybe we should start raising chickens for our own eggs.”

“Mama, we would have nowhere to put them. You refuse to give up the horse.”

“Señor Bun is family, Eric Richard Bittle.” His mother scolds. “And you named him in the first place, so don’t even give me that look. We need him anyway so I can travel.” She gives him a warm smile as a goodbye before retreating to the kitchen.

Eric greets all his favorite people as he makes his way through the busy town. It’s always hectic this early in the morning.

When he finally makes it to the market Robert, the kind food vender, smiles and raises an eyebrow. “Eric! My best costumer. I could have sworn you were here yesterday.”

“I was. We ran out of eggs.” Eric shrugs with a sheepish smile, already pulling out his money.

“You practically keep me in business, so I’ll make you a deal.” He hands Bitty the eggs in a small basket, a look of appreciation on his face. “I expect one of your famous pies. The last one you made me was devoured by my family before I even got the chance to try it.”

“You got it.” Eric smiles, giving him a small salute. “I’ll hand it to you personally the next time I’m here… Which will most likely be tomorrow.”

“That’s gratefully appreciated.” Robert winks before Eric makes his way back home. This might actually be the first morning he doesn’t run into--

“Eric! My future husband. My love and joy.” The familiarity sends a shiver of irritation up his spine.

“Hello, Chad.” Eric sighs, turning around to see Chad, the most beloved, wet dream of the entire town.

He saunters over with his goon in tow, scurrying behind him as Chad makes his way up to Eric with terrifying speed.

“I was thinking,” Chad throws an arm around him, causing Eric to flinch in surprise. “You. Me. Alone out on the hill overlooking that sketchy ass patch of dark clouds that never disappears out yonder that no one questions.”

“I’ll have to pass on that. Again. For the thousandth time you’ve offered.” Eric slides out from under his arm, but doesn’t make a move to walk back home because Chad will just follow him like always. “You do realize I’m a man? I’m sure the three women that always appear when you’re around would love to be with you.” He says the last part with sincerity.

“Of course I know you’re a man.” Chad grins, completely ignoring the last half of Eric’s reply. “Why would I limit myself to one gender? Psh. Ridiculous! We’ve talked about this before. Besides, I want to marry the hottest piece of ass in this town. And that, Eric Bittle, is you.”

“Chad.” Eric runs a hand over his face, and surely people are watching their exchange by now. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not marrying you.”

“This is true love, Eric Bittle.” Chad pouts his lips, like he’s a begging puppy.

“Um, I’m pretty sure this is harassment--”

“--anyway.” Chad cuts him off before he can finish. “I’m rich and hot. What’s not to love?”

Eric has given up at this point, so he decides to just ask, “Chad, how do you manage to track me down every day, anyway?”

“Oh, I usually wait up on the hill right by your house every morning and follow you around until I find the perfect opportunity to court you.”

Eric blinks, slightly terrified by the admission. “Chad, that’s creepy.”

“It’s romantic.” He defends with a slight glare.

“I’m going home. See you tomorrow.” Eric mutters before quickly escaping.

“Bye babe!” Chad calls after him. His daily run-ins with Chad are his least favorite thing about this town.

Some days are harder than others. Like when people so obviously give judgmental looks when he’s buying more baking supplies, or he’s handing out his pies for free to families that can’t quite afford dessert. ‘The least he can do is help provide for his mother. Poor thing, lost her husband at such a young age.’ That’s what most of them say, at least. Like his mother isn’t more than capable of holding her own. It’s not like she raised a child and kept a roof over their heads for nearly nineteen years.

When Eric returns home, he hears his mother humming in the kitchen. She hasn’t left since he went out to buy more eggs.

“Hi Mama.” Eric kisses her cheek before placing the small basket beside her. He glances at the cookies already cooling off. “How did you manage to make those without any eggs?”

“I’m innovative.” She grins, looking extremely excited. “I think I just discovered a loophole so we don’t have to use eggs all the time. What a money saver! Maybe I can buy you new skates by winter, since your last pair fell apart.”

“When are you leaving?” Eric asks, still nervous about her departure. His Mama makes more money that way, leaving town to sell her baked goods in different towns. He always fears that one day she simply won’t return home, and Eric will be all alone.

“Oh Dicky, not until the morning.” She reaches over and cups his cheeks, like she does when she senses him worry. “Let’s just get your pies done for now and not think about it.”

“Okay.” Eric says softly as she releases his cheeks and begins pulling the supplies they need out of cabinets like it’s second nature.

The next morning he helps his mother load everything into the carriage, and feeds Señor Bun before his long journey.

As his mother hops onto the horse, she gives Eric one last encouraging smile. “I’ll be back before you know it, honey. What do you want me to bring back?”

“Oh. Uh.” Eric frowns, because his mother doesn’t have to get him anything. However, his mother does it for his comfort. This way, she has to come back to him. No matter what, because a promise is a promise. “Just get me anythin’ really. Whatever you think looks pretty.” He grins as his mother rolls her eyes.

“Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“I always do.” Eric laughs a little, then reaches up to squeeze her hand one last time. “Be safe, Mama.”

Then she’s off, and he watches her disappear from view.

He loves his mother and he loves baking, but there has to be something more out there than this. He just knows it.

“Eric!” Chad’s voice booms throughout his front yard, causing him to flinch in unpleasant surprise.

“Hi Chad.” Eric sighs as Chad makes his way up to him, intruding on his personal space.

Chad throws on what he believes is his most charming smile. “Are you doing anything today?”

“Nope.”

“Then let’s go on an adventure.” Chad grins, suggestively sliding his hand down Eric’s arm. “For a baker your arms are incredibly buff.”

“Mixing takes a lot of arm power.” Eric defends himself, already kicking himself for interacting with Chad with any attitude beyond dismissive.

“That’s so hot.” Chad removes his hand and decides to flex his own arm. “I work out too. I’m basically a war hero.”

“That’s great. Well, I have to bake and do girly stuff that threatens masculinity. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

“You know me so well, babe. Alright, see you tomorrow my love.” Then Chad is off, making his rounds and flirting with everything in his path.

There has to be something else out there than this provincial life.

#omgcheckplease #eric bittle #eric bitty bittle #jack zimmermann #shitty knight #larissa lardo duan #holster #ransom #ransom and holster #kent parson #zimbits #omgcp

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nomorelonelydays · 8 years ago

Text

Patater Week - Day 4

Feb. 9 - Alternate Universe – Soulmate AU, 2.4K (everyone has their soulmate’s first thought about them on their skin – both still in NHL - coda of sorts to Dot Your Ts and Cross Your Is)

“You’re in a good mood today,” Jack comments, as slides in next to Tater in the nook. “Mhm,” Tater hums and chews his sandwich. “I find soulmate,” he says, like he’s commenting on the weather. Snowy and Thirdy look up from their breakfast, and Marty nearly snorts out his cereal. Guy pats him on the back a little harder than necessary. “You found your soulmate, Tater?” Poots asks carefully. “Like, the one who said ‘You’re tall and hot, I want to die,’ that soulmate?” Almost everyone’s seen that particular marking in the locker room, and though no one actually voiced it, a large majority of the team had covered up their jealousy with chirps. Who doesn’t want a confidence booster like that as a soulmark? Tater simply nods, and Thirdy flies up, excited.

“That’s great, man!” he crows. “Who’s the lucky girl? Did you meet her at a bar? Was it after the game against the Aces?” “You should bring her around sometime,” Marty comments. “I want to meet the person who has to put up with you and your snoring all the time now.” The table laughs, echoing their assent. “I’m happy for you,” Jack says, and Tater glows. “So who is she?” Marty asks. “Yeah, Tater, is she hot?” Thirdy adds. “Yeah,” Tater says casually, and takes another huge bite. “He is very hot. He also make this sandwich before I’m leaving.” The crowd of catcallers fall silent almost immediately. Snowy’s mouth falls open and a toast crumb falls out. Jack’s eyes widen as he stares at Tater’s expression, which has not changed from his previous, besotted look. “He is not good at making sandwich. Next time I go to kitchen and see how he do it,” Tater admits as he shrugs. “It’s thought that count.” There’s another awkward moment, but Marty’s already leaning in and taking a huge bite, quick as anything. “Hey!” “Chicken salad’s kind of dry,” he comments. “Tell him to use more mayo.” “Wait, man, no fair, I want to try,” Thirdy complains as he leans his weight on the table towards Tater. “Don’t be stingy.” “Get your own,” Tater guffaws, then tries to stuff the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and almost chokes. Jack doesn’t think he’s ever seen Snowy laugh this hard before. Or like, at all. Jack doesn’t know if it’s happy giddiness he’s feeling as he watches the table start teasing Tater good-naturedly, or if he’s lightheaded because he almost has to Heimlich maneuver the dry chicken and bread chunk from Tater’s throat, but he gets a quick flash of introducing Bitty, his own soulmate, to the Falconers. They’d love him to pieces, Jack thinks. Bitty will feed them even more pie, Poots is going to cry. “What’s his name?” Jack asks, after Tater isn’t in danger of suffocating anymore. “Kent Parson,” Tater answers. “He is Captain of Las Vegas Aces.” Tater smacks his lips, then adds, “How long does chicken salad keep in fridge? Kenny says a week, but Google say 5 days.” Initially, Jack thinks his internal screaming is him actually screaming in reality, but then he realizes that it’s just Thirdy and Marty and the rest of the Falconers present roaring their lungs out simultaneously, with Poots in the background going, “Tater, you have to get me his autograph you’re my only hope.” Jack thinks he might’ve heard a “Boo, traitor, Parson sucks” from Snowy, but he’s not really sure of anything anymore.

Kent doesn’t visit until 6 months after Tater’s announcement, but Tater seems determined to make up for it by talking to Kent on Skype every chance he gets. He goes to Vegas three months before Kent’s visit and returns starry-eyed and insufferably dopey. He also starts talking about Kent to the Falconers. Whether it’s about the Aces’ most recent win or Kent murdering a new recipe, the Falconers locker room has heard each one at least twice. They’re all happy for Tater (Poots is practically frothing at the mouth when Tater tells him that Kent had agreed to sign his jersey— “Why didn’t you just bring a jersey back?” Poots groans, and Tater just holds up his arms and says apologetically, “I forget! Next time! Maybe.” And all that just ignites another round of chirping). Tater and Kent apparently had taken to each other like an old, decrepit house on fire, in the most sickeningly romantic way possible. Once Tater boasts that he sent flowers to Kent for Valentine’s Day as a surprise, and that Kent had called him so fast Tater had thought Kent had been mad, but he’d really just been crying since the arrangement that’d been delivered was so excessive and it’s absolutely like Tater to go all out. Tater’s always staring at his phone and smiling at every new message Kent sends, and they seem to talk to each other on Skype every single day. He’s getting worse than Jack, Marty had once commented, and Jack, seeing how ridiculously happy Tater is, cannot bring himself to ask whether Tater knew about Kent and himself. They’ve somewhat made their peace by now; Kent phoned him one night, sounding exhausted, and stammered out an apology. It’d been terse, and while Jack had accepted his apology as sincere, neither of them have ever been good with words. He wonders if Kent is the same as before. He doesn’t forget how Kent had crowded him against the door of his own room in Samwell that night, his eyes decidedly fierce as he spits venom when Jack wrestles him off. “I miss you, okay? I miss you,” Kent had said, his face slack with desperation, then frustration. His grip on Jack’s shirt loosens, and for a moment the hurt cracks through and Kent looks like Kenny from the summer before the draft, with his fingers grasping at a love he never had. But Tater looks so happy when he’s on the phone with Kent before a game. It’s his new little ritual. Kent always takes the time to make a five-minute phone call, and Tater does it for Kent’s games as well, apparently. Tater sits in the locker room, phone pressed against his ear as he whispers things like, “Thank you. I miss you, too. We bring Kit to Providence next month, too? No? Haha…” It’s incredible how the same words that had slashed Jack in half can brighten Tater’s entire day. He doesn’t tell Bitty, either, because he hates for Bitty to be anxious for him, even if Jack knows that Bitty will, without a doubt, drop everything and hop on the train to Providence if Jack ever needed him. He wants to tell the world he loves Bitty, so very, very much, and even though he’s comforted by the fact that his teammates won’t react negatively, especially after Tater’s announcement, he wants to keep Bitty’s sleep-tousled hair and smile to himself for just a short while longer. “How was your day?” he asks Bitty again that night through Skype, as he always does. He says nothing of Kent, only that Tater’s soulmate is a man, and that they seem to be very happy together. Bitty eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t voice what they’re both thinking. “I love you,” Bitty says, as Jack lets his soulmate’s drawl slow the beats of his thundering heart until his head is quiet again. “So much, sweetheart.”

They pick up Kent at the airport two months later, after a game that they win (but the latter is just a coincidence). The ‘they’ in question includes Jack, because Tater had pulled him aside before the game and asked if he could accompany him. “Wouldn’t Poots be more excited to go with you?” Jack said automatically, gripping his stick like a weapon before relaxing. “Not that I don’t…want to…” He doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t want to say no to Tater, either, when all Tater’s been doing the past few months is rave about how wonderful and fantastic his boyfriend is. “Is surprise,” Tater says conspiratorially. “Tomorrow, team come to my house. We celebrate win, and I bring Kenny.” “The game hasn’t even started,” Jack says wryly. “You’re going to jinx us.” “No,” Tater shrugs. “Team win, come over to drink. Team lose, everyone still drink. No jinx. Will be fun.” He nudges Jack with his gloved fist lightly. “Beside, you my rookie. I’m need emotional support. Please.” Jack’s pretty sure that’s an excuse Tater made up on the spot, but they get ushered out to meet the ice then, and Jack finds that he can’t refuse Tater’s earnest expression. “Okay,” Jack croaks out. “Good,” Tater says gratefully. “Kenny so small and funny. Used to be so sad and angry.” “Did he tell you that?” Jack asks, alarmed. “Is he still—?” “No,” Tater says, then leaves it at that.

Tater picks him up from his apartment the next day in the afternoon, and Jack can see that Tater is thrumming with energy the entire ride to the airport. He talks about Kent and their daily Skype calls, and how Kent tried to bring them breakfast in bed but ended up spilling orange juice all over the cat instead. Jack just makes a bunch of noncommittal noises like “Hm” and “Ah” as he casually grips the armrest handle like Tater’s driving isn’t the most terrifying thing he’s ever experienced. They’re in the lobby now, with Tater craning his neck to see over the other travelers and checking his phone every once in a while. Jack clears his throat. It was now or never. “Um, Tater?” “Mm?” Tater’s still looking at the gate expectantly, like if he looked away even for a second, he’ll surely miss Kent. “How much, uh, do you know about me? Like, I mean, about me before. In the Q?” Jack never talks about it. He didn’t figure he had to, not with the headlines everywhere from back the proclaiming his teenage decline as Bob Zimmermann’s legacy. “Little bit, here and there,” Tater says absently. “Hear things, but not much. Respect privacy, so…” He shrugs, still absently scanning the crowd. And it’s sweet to hear, for a change. Jack hadn’t expected that. “But you—Kent and I—did Kent ever tell you—” “See him!” Tater exclaims suddenly, and Jack is jolted from his thoughts. “He’s here! He’s—” Jack sees doesn’t see anyone that looks like Kent, but Tater’s already maneuvering Jack’s shoulder so he’s facing him. “Do I look okay? Smell my breath.” Then he actually huffs on Jack like he’s six and Jack’s his mom checking if he brushed his teeth. Jack laughs, despite his nervousness, and pushes him off. “You’re fine. Get off of me.” And just like that, Tater bolts ahead, sidestepping the families and tourists until Jack sees that he’s heading for a man dressed in a grey hoodie and headphones. Tater’s waving his arms like a hooligan, and when Kent finally turns in Tater’s direction, even Jack can see that Kent’s mouth is falling open as he rips his earphones out, and the grin is so bright Jack would’ve been able to spy it from a mile away. It’s like a scene ripped from a bad romance flick. Kent picks up his bag and makes a mad dash for Tater, and Tater nearly loses his balance trying to go around some businessman’s luggage. They slow to a stop about a feet before they actually touch, and Jack sees Kent’s mouth form a very small “Hi.” Kent’s bottom lip is wavering as he schools his composure, but Jack’s well aware that he’s definitely looked at Bitty with that exact same expression many times over. Tater’s examining Kent like he can’t believe Kent’s corporeal, which is borderline ridiculous because there hasn’t ever been a missed night of Skyping. He breathes, “Kenny—” And it’s like a trigger is switched. Once Kent hears the nickname, he literally drops his duffel bag and jumps into Tater’s arms like he’s scrambling up a tree. His hoodie flies back as he buries his head in the crook of the taller man’s neck, his legs wound around Tater’s waist. Tater catches him like they’ve been doing it for years, and it’s heartwarming and sickening sweet but they’ve never looked happier. They’re hesitant when Kent bends his head down for a kiss, their noses bumping. Kent giggles, and Tater hardly notices as they fall into the next kiss, a real, proper one, like they’ve been aching for it for ages. When Tater finally lowers Kent, Kent’s expression is so open and laid bare that Jack is taken aback for a second. It’s love, Jack can see. Pure, unfiltered love. The kind that makes you want to smile beyond the confines of your face. The kind of love that surges over Jack whenever he looks at a text or good luck note from Bitty telling him that he believes in him, and that he is needed. “I missed you,” he says breathlessly. One of Tater’s slides over to Kent’s forearm, where Kent’s soulmark is, and Kent’s hand hovers over Tater’s ribs reflexively. “Did you—?” “Yes. Every day,” Tater says as-matter-of-factly, still smiling like a fool as Kent just about melts. After about ten seconds of this, he seems to remember that Jack is now standing behind him awkwardly. “Oh, Kenny, I bring—” “Zimms,” Kent says. He sounds a little surprised, but not unhappy, either. “I—” “Hey, Parse,” Jack says. Kent seems at a loss for words, and he’s shuffling. Tater’s hold on his waist tightens, as he glances at Kent then back at Jack. “I—God, Zimms, I’m…” Kent looks dumbstruck. “It’s so good to see you again,” he finishes. “It’s been a while,” Jack agrees. “You look happy.” And Kent beams at as he leans into Tater, who rubs his shoulder with a sure hand. Jack hasn’t seen that gentle, quiet smile on Kent in years. “Come on,” Kent says softly. “I want to meet the rest of your team properly.” “You mean off the ice and not where you could get beat up?” Jack chirps automatically. He’s a little surprised at how easy it is to get back into the same rhythm with Kent. “Yep,” Kent says, not missing a beat. “Unless the Falconers are hitting financial rock bottom and can only afford you and Zimms.” They’re still a long way from being alright, but without the dread of the draft or a summer with a deadline looming over their heads anymore, they start over, and they take it slow. So they go.

#PataterWeek #patater week #patater #bee writes #soulmate AU #jack zimmermann #past pimms #implied zimbits #check please

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bittysvalentines · 7 years ago

Text

Something Missing

To: @magnetosbf

From: @polaroidpidge

__________

Jack knows it’s the slap shot of his life as soon as his stick hits the ice. Time moves in slow motion as the puck heads towards the crease, sliding between the goalie’s legs and sinking beautifully into the net. And then the buzzer sounds and time is back to normal again. Jack grins and pumps his fist as the crowd roars and confetti begins to fall.

“Well, there you have it, folks!” The announcer’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. “The Providence Falconers are the twenty eighteen Stanley Cup champions!”

“Zimbonni!” Tater skates rapidly towards Jack, delivering a hearty slap on his shoulder. Jack doesn’t even have the chance to respond before the rest of his teammates are pulling him into a crushing celly.

“You did it, kid!” Thirdy says. “We knew you had it in you!”

After some good-natured chirps and Marty pretending not to cry, Jack is finally released. He looks around, searching for his parents, but doesn’t see them just yet. He has a moment to take in the ice as it’s covered in blue and yellow confetti and people embracing.

This is it, Jack thinks to himself, I’ve finally done it!

But for some reason, as he looks around at everyone hugging and kissing, he can’t help but feel that something’s missing.

…

A sign with large blue letters reads “Welcome to the Hapuna Beach Resort” as Jack strolls into an air-conditioned lobby, a massive duffle bag slung over his shoulder. After a series of strange flight delays and an abnormally long taxi ride, Jack can’t believe he’s finally here. He gets in line to check in behind a middle-aged couple, and breathes a sigh of relief.

The vacation was his parents’ idea. After the cup, Jack had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. When he could barely clean his own apartment post-cup celebratory kegster, his mom had brought up Hawaii and after a bit of convincing, Jack agreed that he could probably use a week in the sun.

“Your room will be in the west wing on the second floor, Mr. Zimmermann.” The cheerful front desk woman says, returning Jack to reality. “Here’s your room key.” He accepts the plastic card gratefully and re-slings his bag over his shoulder. As he walks down the long, tiled corridors of the hotel, Jack can’t help but feel a little removed from reality. It’s been a long time since he had even a few hours not completely dedicated to hockey and the mellow, balmy aura of resort is foreign to him. Jack finally reaches his room and opens the door with a swipe of his keycard.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad.” Jack says aloud, the beginnings of a smile on his face. The bed looks incredibly soft and plush and even from the doorway, Jack spots a large Jacuzzi tub in the en-suite bathroom. But what really catches his attention are the glass sliding doors to a small balcony with an incredible view. Jack kicks the door shut and drops his bag before making his way across the room for a better look. The latch for the balcony doors takes a little elbow grease to open, but it’s absolutely worth it as Jack steps out into the blissful ocean breeze. The water is crystal clear as it laps against the sparkling white sand in a simple yet mesmerizing fashion. Jack also takes in the greenery surrounding the beach and spots a lone figure sitting on a patch of grass that overlooks the sand dunes. Jack can’t make out much from this distance, but there’s something about that blond hair and those tanned, golden shoulders that make him want to get a closer look.

The impulsive part of Jack debates going down there for a moment before his rational brain catches up with a well-timed yawn. Jack has to admit that he is pretty exhausted from his traveling woes and resolves to at least take a quick nap on his luxurious new bed. He spares one last glance at the distant stranger before going back inside and re-latching the balcony door. Jack’s body relaxes completely as soon as his head hits a pillow and within moments he’s passed out in a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Jack wakes up, the sun is already beginning to lower in the sky and he’s desperately hungry. After quickly splashing his face with water, he ventures out into the resort in search of food. He gets slightly lost in the labyrinth of bright floral decoration, but eventually ends up at the casual restaurant by the outdoor pool. Jack finds a menu posted on a decorative Tiki torch and tries to decide what to order.

“Who does he think he is?” An irritated voice causes Jack’s head to whip around, wondering if the speaker is referring to him. Jack’s jaw goes slack as he sees the source of the outburst. For a moment, all he can take in is miles of sun-kissed, freckled skin, sparkling brown eyes, and a pair of illegally short pink shorts. Jack just knows that this is the same person he spotted from his balcony and struggles to come up with a conversation opener.

“Who, me?” is what eventually comes out of his mouth. And Alicia Zimmermann can’t believe that her son is still single. The man raises his hands in placating gesture.

“Oh no honey, I was just thinking aloud,” he says. “My ex keeps trying to call me again now that he knows my career is finally taking off. Bless his heart.”

“I think I know the feeling,” Jack says ruefully, thinking about the strange congratulatory dm he’d gotten from Kent on twitter about the Falcs winning the cup. It had been accompanied by a single sushi emoji and Jack is still confused. “I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Zimmermann.”

The man gives him a warm smile.

“Very nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Eric Bittle, but my friends call me Bitty.”

“Bitty?” Jack tilts his head to one side.

“It’s a nickname.” Bitty blushes. “I got it in college when I played hockey.”

“What school did you play for?” Jack asks, suddenly curious.

“Cornell,” Bitty answers. “We managed to get to the frozen four a couple of times, but we almost always got beat out by this school called Samwell. Don’t suppose you’ve heard of it?”

“Uh…” Jack thinks about his next words carefully, as he really wants Bitty to like him.

“I’m just messing with you, Mr. Zimmermann.” Bitty says, playfully touching Jack’s arm. “I remember you perfectly from the ice. All those insane slap shots that would just blast past our poor goalie.” Bitty smiles. “I suppose that’s to be expected from a top level NHL player.”

Jack ducks his head sheepishly, realizing the jig is up. “Guilty as charged,” Jack says. “I’ll admit, I didn’t recognize you at first but now I remember. You were number fifteen, right? Always so fast on the ice! It was like no one could touch you.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Bitty replies, although he’s clearly glowing at such high praise from Jack.

“How about I just buy you dinner instead, then?” Jack asks. Bitty flashes a dazzling smile.

“I’d love that.” Without thinking, Bitty offers Jack his arm, which Jack takes gracefully. This is one hundred percent not how Jack was expecting this night to go, but somehow he doesn’t mind it as Bitty leads him over to a table near the bar. Maybe I should go on vacation more often, Jack thinks as Bitty makes some comment about piña coladas and it’s suddenly the funniest thing in the world, yep, definitely.

Jack’s not usually great at small talk, but somehow talking to Bitty is easier than breathing. They don’t linger for long on hockey, and find their way to talking about family, pie crust making techniques, and everything in between, all interspersed through bites of over-priced cobb salad and pasta.

“And I’d always thought of writing a cookbook as a long-term goal, you know?” Bitty says. “But when my agent suggested that I approach Harper Collins myself after my Youtube channel started blowing up, it felt kinda crazy, even though I knew I wanted to do it.”

“Sometimes making the right choice is scary,” Jack replies. “I know how stressed I was leading up to the cup final about doing the right thing.’”

Bitty nods sympathetically.

“But I guess it all works out in the end. Several months later and boom! The book that used to just be a dream is now a glossy hardcover at the top of the New York Times bestseller list!” Bitty ducks his head. “Gosh! My mama always said it’s not polite to brag but I can’t help but go around telling everyone.”

“As you should,” Jack replies. “You should be so proud of yourself, Bitty! That’s an amazing accomplishment!”

“Thanks, Mr. Stanley Cup champion.”

“Touché.”

They both pretend they’re not blushing.

“So that’s why I’m on vacation, actually.” Bitty says, finally returning to his original train of thought. “I figured I could use some me time after months of mockups and editing. And I’ve been in a wonderful mood until someone started calling me just this afternoon.” Bitty glares at his phone as if it’s personally offended him as it rests face down between the salt and pepper shakers.

“I’m not the greatest person for advice on dealing with exes,” Jack admits. “But blocking him might be a good place to start.”

“I know, I know.” Bitty sighs. “And I know nothing good would ever come from talking to him again. I just…” He trails off, at a loss for words. Jack waits a moment before reaching across the table and taking Bitty’s hand. “I guess my heart is stuck on old habits,” Bitty says softly.

“Well I guess your heart just has to make some new habits then,” Jack replies. He rubs circles into Bitty’s hand with his thumb and Bitty chuckles.

“I think I’ve already started working on that,” Bitty says, making steady eye contact with Jack as he speaks. Jack smiles at Bitty and feels a warm fluttering in his chest. Jack feels like he’s thirteen again with his first major crush but he’s never felt better.

After they leave the restaurant, Bitty suggests they go for a walk by the beach and there’s no way that Jack can refuse. The sun is setting properly now, and dark purple and pink hues light up the sky with ethereal beauty. They walk in silence, too captivated to speak much at all. But at some point Bitty’s fingers interlace with Jack’s and words aren’t necessary. At least, not for a little while longer.

When the sun finally dips below the horizon, Jack offers to walk Bitty back to his hotel room, but Bitty wonders if they can’t stay and look at the stars for a few minutes. In reality, his suggestion has very little to do with celestial bodies and Jack knows this. There is a moment of silence where Jack looks down briefly at Bitty’s lips before making eye contact with the blonde as the stars watch.

“Bitty?” Jack’s voice is soft and barely audible.

“Yes?” Bitty breathes.

“Can I kiss you?” Jack’s question hangs in the air for a second before Bitty nods and then Jack is leaning down, pressing their lips together with an insistent tenderness that makes Bitty’s toes curl. And there, in the magical air of summer, Jack feels like he’s finally found that ‘something’ that’s been missing.

#fanfic #bv2018 #bittysvalentines #bittyjack #magnetosbf

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jacksbits · 8 years ago

Text

so this is a sequel to this awesome bittyjohnson fic by @omgpbandj and you probably gotta read it first for this to make sense.

started during the height of the weird bittyjohnson craze last august, abandoned, unabandoned, and just finished today. (wooo.)

jackbittyjohnson, 3.3k, rated teen. extremely meta.

johnson knows that in a few weeks this will all feel like a fever dream—the odd couple of days when he fell in love with bitty, and everyone wanted him to do it.

he knows it’s not meant to last.

when the updates come, it’ll be over. a new batch of jackbitty content straight from the Creator is obviously going to be too captivating to ignore. people will stop thinking about johnson, will instead write meta about kent parson and communication and the tiny lego jack and every other little moment in episodes 3.7 through 3.11.

johnson knows the only reason that people are even thinking about him is because there’s nothing else to do. everyone is just trying to distract themselves from the eager ache of waiting. they’re all just excited. this is only a way to pass the time.

and honestly, johnson is exited, too. he knows the updates are going to be good—he’s seen them, flashes, little pieces in his memory, and what’s coming makes his heart swell and ache and grow, all at once. johnson is as in love with jack and bitty’s love as everyone else is.

but this week, at least, he’s a little bit in love with bitty, too.

johnson knows it’s not going to last.

(more)

every night, johnson dreams.

he always remembers all of his dreams.

until one morning, he doesn’t.

it’s scary, to feel the blank spot.

he wakes up somewhere in the mountains, and there’s nothing.

in retrospect, johnson is embarrassed to admit that he thinks that means bitty died.

because... he doesn’t know everything. he just knows everything about bitty.

every night, it’s bitty’s life that unfurls in front of him: bitty’s thoughts, bitty’s future, bitty’s fears. bitty’s desires.

that last one has never been quite right, ever since johnson messed up. but he tries not to think about that.

and things do change, a little, from day-to-day, anyway. the Creator knows most of what will happen, of course. johnson has known the big things for years, and occasionally moments far into the future blink into existence all at once. but it’s not like the Creator knows everything in advance. so if things are a little off, if bitty sometimes dreams about johnson’s face instead of jack’s, well. that’s probably okay. it’s obviously not a big deal, really, because things are still happening like they’re supposed to. johnson didn’t mess it up too badly, because bitty is with jack, and he’s happy.

that’s always what the Creator said was the most important thing: that bitty’s story was happy. and he still is, so it’s fine.

before updates, things get progressively clearer and clearer, but johnson still can’t always tell what’s happening in the thumbs, and sometimes the roughs change substantially before inks actually get laid down. words always come last, and sometimes the Creator is rewriting jokes up until a few hours before posting.

so it’s not like things are set in stone, is all. it’s not until johnson actually wakes up each morning that he knows the specific details of that day’s canon.

so when johnson wakes up, and he sees nothing—realizes he didn’t dream at all—well. it’s not his fault if he overreacts. every day johnson sees bitty’s life. if he doesn’t see anything, it only follows that bitty no longer has a life.

johnson’s only thought is that he has to get to providence. he’s in the mountains, a hundred miles away, but distances have never been that important to him before, and this time isn’t any different. he has to get to providence, and he steps over a log and onto the pavement of canal street between one blink and the next.

this doesn’t surprise him. johnson is focused on his purpose. he needs to figure out what’s happened to bitty, and to do that he needs to find jack.

if anyone knows what’s happened, it’s going to be jack.

here’s the thing:

when johnson is supposed to do something, he can feel it beneath his skin.

the tension stretches around his muscles, tightening and tightening until he does the movement that’s required of him. it feels like someone invisible grabbing him, directing him, forcing him. it’s always been stronger than him, and johnson has always given in to what it wants. he almost doesn’t mind it, because he always knows why he has to do it, and he wants things to work out for jack and bitty. sometimes he wishes he could choose to help, instead of being made to, but it seems futile to wish for things he knows can’t happen.

it works in reverse, too.

when johnson does something he’s not supposed to do, he feels himself relaxing. it’s like the force that holds his atoms together starts to weaken, and johnson feels himself drafting apart, the fibers of is muscles unraveling, until it’s like he can’t even muster enough control over his body to blink his eyelids.

every time johnson wanted to do something wrong with bitty, he felt it happening. he’d want to take a step forward, but suddenly he couldn’t use his legs. he’d want to touch bitty’s hair, but he suddenly couldn’t feel his arm. it was good: a reminder that those desires were wrong, whenever johnson felt tempted.

it was like the invisible someone was saying, i gave you this body, but for a purpose. i gave it to you, but i can take it away, too.

(there was one time that johnson almost got around it: he held very, very still, and bitty touched his arm. johnson couldn’t have moved forward if he wanted to, but he didn’t have to, because then bitty kissed him.

it felt like the force laughed, begrudgingly impressed. it felt like it said, okay, fine, you win this round. you can have an hour.

and, god, johnson knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he took his hour, and he’d do it again.

what else could he have done? he was able to kiss bitty back, so he did.)

johnson gets to providence, ends up standing in front of the door to jack’s apartment, but it feels like he’s falling apart. he’s shaking, he’s cold all over, his heart is pounding so hard that he can hear it in his ears. johnson doesn’t know if this is the effect of doing something very, very wrong, or if he’s just having a panic attack. either option seems plausible.

he’s a little afraid of dematerializing right there on the doorstep, but, god, bitty could be dead. johnson has to knock. through sheer force of will, he pulls himself together enough to lift his hand and rap the door three times, hard.

it’s jack who opens the door.

“johnson?” jack says. “i... what? how did you—”

then, from deeper inside the house, the sweetest voice in the world says, “oh, john, i knew you’d come.”

bitty appears from behind jack, and gives johnson a warm, blinding smile.

johnson passes out.

he wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later laid out on a couch.

“oh, thank god,” bitty says, when johnson blinks open his eyes. “how are you feeling?”

bitty and jack are both sitting in armchairs nearby. bitty looks concerned; jack still looks a little confused.

“okay,” johnson says. he actually feels quite a bit better. he lifts up his arm, and he’s amazed by how smooth the movement is, the way his muscles respond instantly and easily to his desires. “i think i feel better.”

bitty smiles. “that’s good. i’m glad you came.”

“how did you come?” jack asks. “i mean, how did you know to?”

johnson isn’t sure how to answer that question without seeming crazy, so he says, “i—ah. i was worried about bitty. i sort of... dreamed that maybe he was, maybe... hurt, or something?”

bitty squints at him. “you had a dream?” he sounds a bit disappointed, and he’s frowning.

the way he says it, a little loaded, and definitely like it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, makes johnson want to tell the truth, even though the truth is crazy. “i guess, technically, i didn’t have a dream.”

“you didn’t have a dream?” bitty asks.

“i did not,” says johnson.

jack looks between the two of them. “i’m confused. that’s good, right?”

bitty reaches over and pats jack’s hand. “yes, honey, it’s good.”

johnson explains everything to them even though it sounds crazy.

what’s weird is they don’t call him crazy.

instead, bitty says, “i thought it was something like that.”

johnson swallows. “you did?”

“yeah,” bitty says. “i’ve been thinking about all of the things you said to me at school. a lot.”

johnson blinks. “a lot?”

“a lot,” jack says. johnson can’t tell if he’s annoyed or if that’s jack’s normal voice. “he’s been trying to figure it out for years.”

“oh,” says johnson. “for years?”

bitty nods. “once you said to me, ‘you were supposed to get rid of that couch’ and… it just seemed so odd, how confident you were, like you knew what was going to happen. or what you thought was supposed to happen, at least. and you’d predicted stuff before, you know? somehow i’d gotten it into my head that you could tell the future. i’d been thinking it for a while, actually. it was… well, it was…” bitty groans, then stares down at his hands. “oh, this is embarrassing.”

without meaning to, johnson asks, “what’s embarrassing?”

bitty looks up. his cheeks are pink. johnson feels transfixed.

“i, um. that’s why i kissed you. i thought you knew i was going to do it. i figured if you didn’t want me to, you would, uh. y’know. find an excuse to get up and leave. before i did it.”

johnson’s heart is pounding. “oh,” he says, glancing over guiltily at jack, but jack is just watching them silently. his expression is unreadable to johnson’s eyes. johnson says, “i didn’t know you were going to do it.”

“i know that now,” bitty mutters. “i. well. it was what you said about the couch that gave me the idea, actually.” he sighs. “it was just such an odd thing to be wrong about, you know? because i had planned to get rid of it, and then i changed my mind. because of, well, because of what we did on it, obviously—so. i don’t know. at some point, i came up with this idea. it seemed so silly but i couldn’t shake it once i’d thought of it. it just fit.”

johnson stares. “what… what was the idea?”

bitty stares back levelly. “i wondered if you could tell the future, but only one future. what if you couldn’t tell the future when it was me, and—um, and you?” he takes a deep breath. “my theory was, if i did something—well, if i did something really, uh, huge, something that would change the future a lot… well, maybe you’d notice, and maybe you’d come back.”

johnson has no idea what to think about that. bitty’s gotten a lot more right than johnson ever would have expected him to. it’s slightly unsettling, but also kind of incredible. bitty is so smart.

it’s moments like this that johnson thinks, of course i fell in love with him.

johnson takes a slow breath. “bitty, what are you saying?”

bitty says, “i talked to jack about something.”

johnson looks at jack, just sitting there calmly on the couch. how can jack be so calm? johnson feels like he’s coming apart, and not in the metaphysical way. he feels like he’s coming apart in the emotional way, which is almost worse. his heart hurts.

when bitty doesn’t say anything else, johnson forces out, “what did you talk to jack about?”

bitty looks embarrassed and very determined when he says, “well, i, well—the fact that i’m in love with you.”

oh.

johnson brings his hand up to touch his chest, the space over his heart, to make sure he’s still whole there. he’s honestly surprised he’s able to move his hand. he’s smiling involuntarily, but he shouldn’t be happy right now. this was not supposed to happen. it’s wrong. bitty was never supposed to love him.

how could this have happened? what happened to the invisible force? why didn’t it stop this?

the only thing johnson can think to say is, “you're supposed to be in love with jack.”

bitty shrugs. “oh, yeah. him too.”

johnson looks at jack again. “how do you feel about this?”

jack shrugs. he seems fine. “i don't know. it's all a little weird, honestly—with the dreams and the prophecies and everything. i can't say it came out of nowhere, though.”

johnson frowns. “what are you talking about, this came completely out of nowhere.”

johnson wants to add, bittyjohnson is a crackship, but he’s still wary of coming off as crazy, and anyway, explaining that comment might slightly derail the conversation.

and johnson doesn’t want to derail the conversion.

he wants to see where this is going. even if he shouldn’t.

jack says, “i mean, i guess it was a long time ago that you and bitty hooked up? but he's talked to me about you. i could tell he never really got over you.”

the wave of guilt that johnson feels is paralyzing. this is all his fault.

“oh, right,” he manages, weakly. it feels a little like he’s floating. “it's been years from your perspective. bitty never got over me. okay. fuck. okay.” this is all his fault, then. kissing bitty did have an impact on the overall story. now bitty won’t get the happy ending he was always supposed to get. because johnson fucked it all up.

“are you okay?” jack asks. johnson tries to nod, but he’s not sure if he actually moves his head. this is probably what a panic attack feels like after all.

to bitty, jack says, “do you think he’s going to pass out again?”

bitty makes a little noise. “oh, goodness, i hope not.”

johnson takes a deep breath, and then another. he has to calm down. he has to explain himself. he has to fix this. “this is all my fault. i’m—i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have kissed you, back then, no matter how much i wanted to. if i’d known… i just didn’t think it would matter. i thought you’d forget about it, after a while. i didn't—i really didn’t mean for this to happen.”

bitty blinks, clearly trying to sort through all that. eventually, he says, “honey, i’m the one who kissed you.”

which is... true actually, but not important. it’s still johnson’s fault. he shouldn’t have let it happen. and even if bitty kissed him, johnson certainly shouldn’t have taken more, shouldn’t have sank down to his knees and pressed bitty back into the couch, shouldn’t have taken something that was supposed to be for jack just because he had the opportunity to. it wasn’t fair of johnson to do something like that. bitty didn’t know what was supposed to happen.

but johnson did.

and he’d done the wrong thing anyway.

it’d clearly been a test, when the force had let him do what he wanted, and johnson had failed it.

“i’m sorry,” johnson repeats. “it’s just… this is wrong. this was never supposed to happen.”

“it’s ‘wrong’?” bitty rolls his eyes. he looks slightly pissed off. “come on, john, it's 2020... polyamory is legal. we could all get married tomorrow if we wanted.”

“oh god,” johnson says.

bitty looks suddenly stricken. “i'm not suggesting we all get married tomorrow!”

“yeah,” jack says. “why don’t we try dating for a while first?”

it’s a joke, johnson knows it’s just a joke, but he’s serious too—they both are—and maybe it’s already too fucked up to salvage, anyway. maybe it doesn’t matter anymore whether it was was supposed to happen or not. it clearly already did. it already is.

so, somehow, even though it’s not supposed to, what comes out of johnson’s mouth is, “okay.”

a couple hours later, with bitty asleep between the two of them, jack says, “what’s up, john?”

johnson has been lying on his back, trying to keep completely still so he wouldn’t disturb them. he hadn’t realized jack was still awake, too.

to the ceiling, johnson whispers, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

jack hums. eventually he says, “i have a little experience doing things that i'm not supposed to do.”

johnson rolls sideways to look at jack’s face.

he’s lying on his side, spooned around bitty, one arm under the pillow. he looks comfortable and completely awake, like he has been for a while. johnson wonders how long jack has been watching him.

“you do?” johnson asks.

“i wasn't supposed to go to samwell, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“oh,” johnson says. jack looks so sure, and honestly, it’s... true. well, it’s sort of true. obviously jack was always supposed to go to samwell—that was the story. if he didn’t, the story wouldn’t exist at all—but it’s true from the point of view of the characters within that story that it wasn’t supposed to happen. jack couldn’t have known what the story was supposed to be, since he was the one inside of it.

which is… well. that’s something to chew on, isn’t it?

maybe johnson can’t tell the future anymore because... he’s in the story, too.

almost unwillingly, johnson mutters, “oh my god, i’m—this—it’s an au.”

johnson’s voice is barely more than a whisper on his breath, and it doesn’t seem any more believable once he says it aloud, but jack says, “sure.”

“sure?” johnson echoes.

jack shrugs slightly—as much as he can while lying on his side with an arm wrapped around bitty’s waist. “sure. i don’t know what that means, but sure.”

“okay,” johnson says. “it means, uh. it means this might be okay.”

“oh,” jack says. “good.” he smiles, apparently sincerely, which is honestly slightly bizarre. it’s like jack is fine with all of this, and johnson has no idea why. he has no idea how jack could be okay with the idea of sharing bitty.

“is it good?” johnson asks.

“yes?” jack says. “i’d obviously rather you not be wracked with guilt because you’re dating us?”

“but...” johnson says. “why would you even.... want to?”

jack kind of stares. “honestly?” he says. “i had a huge crush on you, too, back at samwell. i get it. i was pretty jealous that bitty actually got to hook up with you.”

it feels like johnson’s heart stops. “what?” he manages. “you had a crush on me? i, shit, i definitely didn't mean to do that—”

jack chuckles. “you didn't have to do much. don't look so shocked.”

johnson stares. he has no idea what to say.

“really?” he asks.

jack smiles. “yeah, really. come on, hot guy lives across the hall from me for a year? it’s not that complicated. at least the second time it happened i got it together enough to make a move.”

“oh,” johnson says. “really?”

“you—already said that,” jack manages, before he starts laughing—he’s quiet, little huffing breaths, but his shoulders shake enough that he wakes bitty up.

“whassat?” bitty slurs. “what’s funny?”

“it’s nothing,” johnson says. “jack’s making fun of me.”

bitty tucks his face into the pillow. “mmm, he does that.”

“sorry,” says jack.

“he’s not,” bitty mumbles.

johnson can’t help but laugh, too. “it’s okay. i probably deserve to be made fun of.”

“glad that’s settled,” bitty says. “now come here and go to sleep.”

johnson stays on his back, but he scoots a little closer, so bitty can throw an arm over his chest.

johnson always sleeps on his back—honestly, he usually just lays down and shuts his eyes and ceases to exist until the next time he’s needed—but for the first time in a long time, johnson actually feels himself drifting off to sleep.

it’s a nice feeling.

that night, johnson doesn’t dream.

he wakes up smiling.

#me #bittyjohnson #for the tag!!! haha #also wow! posting more fic! amazing

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bittysvalentines · 7 years ago

Text

Rosemary

To @oliverxmarks

From @askboo

Happy B-Day, oliverxmarks, who requested angst and paranormal AU.

___________________

Every person who worked in a cafe was guaranteed at least one regular customer crush.

Bitty’s was a man named Jack, a tall broad-shouldered blue eyed hunk with a charming trace of an accent who wore basically 5 of the same flannel shirt in different colours. A crush on a man like Jack was a no-brainer, but there was also the way he lit up a little whenever Bitty greeted him by name, flirted with him at the register, or had his usual coffee already prepared in his usual bright yellow mug. Like Bitty was one of the best parts of his day, or something, or made his life just a little bit better.

Acting on these crushes was never a good idea, though, if only because it was so much more fun to admire people from afar, to get that exciting rush whenever they walked into the shop, to imagine the perfect life together with the dog and the kids and the house, instead of facing reality, which was: the awkward need to avoid this person after a date gone wrong, when you actually got to know how boring or rude or weird they really were.

With Jack, Bitty wanted to cross that line for the first time ever. And it wasn’t because of his blue eyes or his great ass. Well. It wasn’t just those things. But it was more because Jack’s cute little smile was always sad, and Bitty...well, Bitty knew what the problem was. And how to fix it. Not getting closer to Jack and his blue eyes and his great ass was just letting him suffer, and that was being a bad person.

That was what Bitty told himself on the Monday afternoon when he made himself a mocha and put one of Jack’s favourite blueberry muffins on a plate, and then when to sit with him on his break.

Jack looked up from his textbook and smiled. This was a knowing smile, but still a little sad. He shifted his stuff around so Bitty would have room for his mug and the muffin. His eyes were warm when they looked at Bitty across the table.

“Jack, I wanted to ask--”

Jack reached across and put his warm hand on top of Bitty’s. “Bits, I…” he said softly, and then swallowed. “Believe me, I want to. But it’s...it’s not a good idea.”

Bitty flushed happily, even though Jack had effectively just turned him down. Because Jack had said he wanted to, even though Bitty hadn’t been about to ask him out, and wasn’t that sweet. He didn’t want to embarass Jack by correcting him, so he simply said: “Tell me about your ghost.”

Jack took his hand away like a snap, sitting back in his chair like Bitty had pushed him there. Colour slowly drained from his face. “What?”

“Your ghost,” Bitty repeated.

Because you see, Bitty was a psychic, and Jack the tall handsome lumberjack had a smoky aura that twisted and shifted unhappily around him. It was kind of hard to miss, no matter how distractingly beautiful his face was.

Jack was being haunted.

Bitty was ready for the denial, the ‘are you crazy’, for Jack to just get up and leave. Haunted people were so rarely prepared to admit that what they were experiencing was real, so it wasn’t a comfortable experience most times to have someone else confirm it.

But Jack was the most honest, straightforward guy that Bitty thought he had ever met, so even though he looked pale and whoozy, he swallowed and leaned across the table. “It’s my ex,” he whispered.

Bitty pulled out his phone, unlocked it. “Gimme your number,” he said. “I’m coming over tonight.”

When the doorbell rang that evening, Jack paused to check his hair in the hallway mirror. Then he frowned, messing it up again, and went to answer the door. God, he was such an idiot. He didn’t need to look good for a...a seance, or whatever this was.

Bitty stood at the door adorable as ever, wrapped in a peacoat and a red knit hat and matching scarf. He had a big black duffle bag on his shoulder. He smiled warmly at Jack and stepped in. Jack watched his eyes go a liquid honey colour, as if he was looking straight through the room. “Oh,” Bitty said softly, and he sounded relieved. Jack hoped that was a good thing.

Bitty put the bag on the floor and toed off his shoes. He passed Jack down the hall and then bent to pick up a fallen picture frame. Jack had long since taken out the glass.

“Sorry,” Jack said quietly. “He likes to knock things down.”

Bitty kept the picture in his hands and then walked into the living room. Jack followed him, and he found Bitty sitting down on the couch, looking down at the picture in his lap. Jack leaned against the back of the couch and looked down at it over Jack’s shoulder. He and Kenny were probably 17 or 18 in the picture, sitting together on the back of Jack’s old corolla, arms wrapped around each other. Jack looked at Kenny’s hooded green eyes and felt his throat tighten. He’d looked at that picture a thousand times, but somehow having Bitty see it too made Jack feel like the past was somehow closer.

“There was an accident,” Bitty said softly, running his fingers gently over Kent’s face.

“Yes,” Jack said hoarsely. He rounded the couch to sink down next to Bitty. He took the frame from him, then reached out to touch Kent’s face himself. “Freshman year. He was driving home from Christmas break.”

Bitty was looking around the room in that hazy way again. “You felt guilty,” he said.

Jack closed his eyes. This time, his throat tightened so much he couldn’t swallow. He hadn’t talked to anyone about this, even though it had been four years. Kenny was still with him, but he knocked things over or sent them flying, important things like Jack’s cell phone and keys went missing, and sometimes he made the whole house shake in the middle of the night. Kenny’s ghost, his spirit, whatever it was, was angry, and Jack knew why.

“I broke up with him,” Jack said finally, eyes still tightly closed. “Right before. We’d been together since tenth grade, but...everything at the time, school and the long distance, it was just...too much.” Jack opened his eyes to look at Bitty. “But I still loved him. You know? I didn’t want this to happen.”

Bitty blinked, and the focus came back into his eyes. He looked so sad, and he reached out a warm hand to touch Jack’s cheek. Jack couldn’t help but lean into it, even though comfort was the last thing he deserved. “Oh honey,” Bitty said. “Of course you didn’t. And that’s not why he’s here.”

Jack’s lips parted in surprise, but before he had the chance to ask, Bitty was up and moving back into the hall again. He came back with the bag, and sat back down. From one of the side pockets he lifted out a thick bunch of herbs, wrapped up like a cigarette, and his lighter. “We’re not smoking this,” he said with a wink. “So don’t get too excited.”

He lit the bundle with the lighter and then blew it out. Thick white smoke flowed from the tip, but it smelled good, earthy and floral. “What’ll that do to him?” Jack whispered anxiously.

“It’s not for him,” Bitty said softly. “It’s for you.”

Bitty waved the smoke around for a little while, and then let the bundle rest gently on one of Jack’s coasters on the coffee table. Then he reached up and brushed Jack’s hair away from his eyes. His warm hands came back to Jack’s, holding both of them tightly. “It’s Rosemary, and Mistletoe,” Bitty explained gently. He looked Jack in the eyes. “For letting go.”

Jack looked down at their joined hands, and Bitty’s sympathetic eyes, around the smoky room. His breathing shortened when he realized what was happening. “I can’t,” he breathed.

“You have to,” Bitty said, squeezing. “Honey, he’s not mad. He doesn’t blame you for the accident, or the break up. The knocking things over, the shaking, you’ve been holding on to him for too long. He’s only been trying to tell you that he’s ready to go.” Jack’s eyes filled with tears. He closed them, but the the tears dripped down his cheeks. “Go where?” he said.

“I dunno,” Bitty said softly. “But it’s gotta be good, because they all want to go so bad. We hold them back when we try to hold on. And I get it, honey, I do. It’s hard to let go but it’s the right thing to do. For him.”

Bitty reached up to Jack’s cheek again, wiping the tears, and then he took Jack by the neck and tugged him down. Jack sogged up Bitty’s t-shirt, and held on to him. When he pulled back, his face was red and his nose completely clogged. His heart ached as much as it had when he’d lost him the first time. Jack closed his eyes, breathed in the sweet smell of the smoke. He tried to imagine the beautiful, warm, safe, happy place that all the lost souls wanted to go.

“Okay, Kenny,” he whispered. “Get outta here.”

Jack felt something cool and soft brush his cheek, then boop the tip of his nose. Jack left wetly, and then smiled. It was a signature Kent move. When he opened his eyes, he almost expected to see Kent there, but there was nothing. The smoke had gone out. For the first time in four years, Jack could feel that he was really alone.

But of course, he wasn’t alone. Bitty leaned forward and gave him a real proper hug this time, both arms wrapped around him, squeezing tight. Jack took him by the waist and turned his face into Bitty’s neck, holding on. He’d thought this moment would bring unbearable pain but it had only brought….

Relief.

“Thank you,” Jack whispered.

“You got it, honey,” Bitty said, pulling back with a smile.

“Do I…” Jack tugged at his collar awkwardly. “Owe you...I mean, what do you charge for this kinda--”

“Hah!” Bitty said, grinning. “You think I’d make a living off being psychic? I briefly considered it once, you know. Getting my own TV show. But it’s so not a good look. So no, sweetheart. There’s no charge. Except maybe cooking me dinner ‘cause talking to ghosts gets me starving.”

Jack laughed. He got to his feet, rubbing at his face. He felt exhausted. “What if I ordered you chinese food,” he said, from behind his hands.

“You can own me,” Bitty said with a smile, standing up too. He leaned up on his toes to kiss Jack on the cheek and then grabbed his bag. “Get some sleep.” Jack walked him to the door, and watched him tie his scarf around his neck. He reached out and put a palm against the front door, stopping Bitty from opening it. Bitty turned to look at him in surprise. “What I said before, about---it, not being a good idea?” he said awkwardly. “I think now, it might--”

“Might be an okay idea now that you’re not being haunted by your ex?” Bitty teased him.

“Yes,” Jack said seriously, which made Bitty laugh even more.

He put his hands on Jack’s shoulders and leaned up to peck him on the lips. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll let that dinner you owe me be the date kind of a dinner.”

Jack smiled and told Bitty he would text him, and closed the door behind him. Then he took the framed picture back over to it’s spot on the wall, hanging it back over the nail. He stood and looked at Kenny’s face in the picture for a long time.

He was somewhere better now, and soon, Jack would be happier too.

#oliverxmarks #fanfic #bv2018 #bittysvalentines #bittyjack

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zombizombi · 8 years ago

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hummingbird heartbeat - pt 21

( missed the beginning? catch up on AO3! )

When Jack texted, he didn’t mention the kiss.

Bitty went back to Georgia for the summer. He wasn’t sure how to talk to Kent about Jack’s farewell; after all, Jack hadn’t really said anything. Bitty was pretty sure he knew what it meant, but how could he possibly tell Kent that he just had a feeling that Jack was maybe sort of in love with both of them? He didn’t really have anything to base it on other than a kiss in the hospital that Kent likely didn’t even remember.

Kent had already tried to back off in favor of Jack once before. They needed to talk about Jack -- actually, seriously talk about him -- but every time Bitty thought about bringing him up, he couldn’t seem to find the right words. The most Kent had ever mentioned Jack was in the beginning of their relationship, before Bitty knew who he was. Bitty hadn’t forgotten those conversations or Kent’s last birthday. There was a lot to that backstory that he was sure he didn’t know.

At home, it took Bitty a little while to work up the right way to talk to his mother about Kent visiting. Eventually he started the conversation with Jack and let that lead into Jack’s new NHL career and the people he knew and oh, by the way mother, Kent Parson, you know of him? He’s so nice!

Suzanne listened to Bitty talk about how he’d gotten to know Kent -- half truths, really, but only in the beginning -- and after about a week, she asked if Kent wouldn’t like to come visit that summer. It sounded like they were good friends, after all, and hearing that Kent hadn’t had a homemade apple pie on the fourth of July shocked Suzanne just as much as it had shocked Bitty. Something just had to be done about that.

Kent laughed when Bitty told him. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll buy a plane ticket tonight. How long d’you want me to stay?”

“Forever,” Bitty said, without thinking. He sucked in a sharp breath as he realized what he’d said.

There was a small pause before Kent said anything. “Uh -- that might be difficult to arrange,” he said, “’cause I have this cat…”

Bitty laughed, rubbing his face with one hand. “How about a week?”

“Whatever you want, sunshine,” Kent said. “I can do a week.”

A whole week! Bitty would have to think about what they could do. Madison wasn’t that exciting, and besides the fireworks on the fourth, he couldn’t think of many things that’d be going on. It was a good thing he had a bit of time -- after all, Kent needed to bulk up for the season, and he couldn’t just feed him pie. He’d have to think of acceptable foods. “That’ll be great. You’ll send me the information for your flight, right, once you have it? ’Cause I’ll have to come and get you.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kent said. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll email you the itinerary.” He laughed. “You’re so cute.”

Bitty rolled his eyes. “Okay, sweetheart. How’s Vegas?”

“Boring, mostly,” Kent said. “I mean, aside from the Troy brigade.” He liked Mrs. Troy and her three children -- they were still spending time at Kent’s house, checking on him and making sure he was doing all right. Kent sent Bitty silly snaps of the kids and their outings. “But, you know. I can’t really do anything? They won’t even let me work out. I’m gonna have to work my ass off later to make up for this. And I already binge-watched like, every single episode of Golden Girls.” He paused. “But, um. Jack’s been calling me.”

“Oh?” Bitty sat up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Kent sighed. “It’s weird, right? I -- for a long time I would’ve given anything for him to call me. Nightmares and all. Fucking stupid. And now, it was just -- you know he signed with Providence?”

“Yeah,” Bitty said, “I knew that.”

“Alexei plays for Providence,” Kent said.

Bitty knew Kent was friends with Mashkov. He’d been so supportive on Twitter when Kent came out, it hadn’t been much of a surprise to Bitty that they’d struck up a friendship. Kent didn’t really tend to have real friendships with people very often, so Bitty had encouraged him to try just a little. It was good for Kent -- Bitty had plenty of friends, but Kent often seemed so… isolated. “Yeah,” Bitty said. “I know. Maybe he and Jack will get along. What else did you guys talk about?”

“He just kind of asked how I was doing. Checking up on me, I guess, which is weird because I didn’t think he gave a fuck. We talked about the playoffs a little bit. He asked about my cat. It’s --” Kent let out a long sigh. “I don’t know, babe. Why is he calling me? I don’t know what the fuck he wants from me.”

“Maybe he just wants to be a part of your life again,” Bitty suggested.

Kent laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “right.”

“I’m serious,” Bitty said.

“I know you are,” Kent said, “and I love that about you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Is it working?”

Bitty laughed.

Kent was still recording new videos. He was actually doing them faster than normal, which Bitty chalked up to all the extra free time. He’d done several Britney songs already. The latest was one of the only songs on the channel not in English. Bitty pressed play, tilting his head.

“Привет. Боюсь, что я очень плохо говорю по-русски,” Kent said, speaking very slowly. “I, uh. I don’t know how to say the rest of this in Russian, so, uh -- sorry. Прости, пожалуйста. I only know, like, three phrases? And one of them is really rude.” He laughed and gripped his guitar. “So, anyway, I, um. I practiced this a lot and I’m sure my pronunciation isn’t perfect, but it’s my first try singing a foreign-language song.” A pause. “French doesn’t count.”

It was a Russian folk song. The title translated to Beyond the Quiet River, and Kent had posted a translation of the lyrics into the “about” section on the video. He’d recorded it at night in his living room, the windows large and dark behind him. Only the body of the guitar and Kent’s arm were really visible; he’d sat far off to the side, letting the camera mostly focus on Kit.

The song was beautiful. Bitty knew from listening to Kent practice that he must’ve worked on his version of the song for quite a while -- it was very practiced, very smooth. Several commenters praised Kent’s attempt at Russian and mrpotatohead7 left an excited comment half in Russian and half in English, obviously elated by the choice. In comment replies, Kent promised to attempt more languages soon, but pointed out that it took a lot of practice time and he didn’t always have that kind of motivation. Bitty left a comment full of hearts and a request for more songs in French.

Playoffs were still on. The Aces had advanced to the finals through what seemed like sheer force of will. Kent was, in the end, only able to attend games in Las Vegas -- the severity of his concussion kept him from traveling to away games. He went to every single game in Vegas and called Bitty after all of them, reporting on his team’s progress. His frustrated commentary when the Aces lost and his observations about what could have been better in games they won were both accurate. Bitty had never discussed hockey at length with Kent. He was so… passionate.

It was cute.

The Aces faced the Montreal Canadiens for the Stanley Cup finals. Despite the fact that the Canadiens’ goalie was injured and they were relying on a backup, the finals went to seven games. The Aces had lost at least two other players to injury during the Cup run, and they’d scraped by with one-goal wins in many of their games. They’d had to shuffle some of their lines without Kent, but they came out and played fierce, but clean, hockey for every game. The last one took place in Las Vegas.

They won by a single goal made in the last minute of regulation time. The stands erupted with cheers and Troy pulled Kent out on the ice in his street clothes, dragging him over to hold the cup. Kent’s smile was wide and bright and Bitty thought he’d remember the image of him standing in the middle of a rainbow ace of spades, holding the Stanley Cup, forever.

“So I was thinking about the awards,” Kent said, a week later. They were video chatting quietly after Bitty’s parents had gone to bed, both of them curled up in their rooms. “It’s coming up soon, and I was talking with Alexei -- he was sincere about going with me, when he tweeted it?”

“Oh, yeah!” said Bitty. He remembered the tweet. “That’s great.”

“So I thought I’d take him up on it,” Kent said. He toyed with Señor Bun’s ear. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, sweetie,” Bitty said. “Unless you want to go alone, I don’t see why you shouldn’t go with him. You don’t need my permission.” It was nice of Mashkov to offer. He’d been so great to Kent on Twitter and other social media -- it warmed Bitty’s heart to see another player being so vocal about his support.

Kent laughed. “You’re my boyfriend,” he said. “I think it’s polite to ask you how you feel about it before I publicly attend an event with another guy.”

“Sorry,” Bitty said. “Did you want me to be jealous?”

Kent laughed again. “No. God, it’s like I made you in a computer. Okay! Fine.”

Bitty watched the NHL awards with the rest of the guys -- including Jack -- on a group Skype call. It was tradition! They had all placed bets on who would win what a week prior.

Kent was wearing a gorgeous burgundy suit, which he'd paired with a tie pin shaped like the ace of spades and a pocket square striped like a referee's jersey. He arrived with Alexei Mashkov, both of them strolling casually up the red carpet. Mashkov’s navy suit wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Kent’s, and it was clear that both of them knew it. Kent’s smile was his perfect, practiced media smile, but Bitty noticed that he looked a little thin. So many of their video chats took place at night while snuggled under blankets that he hadn’t realized before.

He’d have to do something about that.

They stopped for pictures on the red carpet like all the other players. Kent had something tucked under his arm, but he consistently turned so that it was just out of camera shot. An interviewer commented on Kent’s suit first, stopping both of the men before they could get inside. “You two are looking very sharp tonight,” she said.

“Is good, right?” Mashkov smiled. “Maybe should be more careful, though, not put all the good looks in one place.”

Kent laughed. “First time I’ve brought someone to the awards I actually liked,” he said.

“I think I’m bringing you,” Mashkov said, “not the other way around.” The look he gave Kent didn’t escape Bitty’s notice.

“Fair point,” said Kent. He grinned.

The interviewer laughed. “And whose is this rabbit?” she asked.

It was Señor Bun under Kent’s arm. “Oh,” he said, giving her a winning smile, “he belongs to my biggest fan.”

The camera clearly showed Mashkov’s hand on Kent’s lower back as they stepped inside. Both of them showed up in further footage, signing autographs or talking with other players. They were almost always together, and Bitty was sure it would be all over the internet within minutes. Kent and Alexei were ushered up to the front row, a position likely decided by their stellar skills on the ice as much as by the reporters clamoring for shots of Kent's recovery. Kent sat down first.

As expected, the camera panned to the front row often. Kent and Mashkov were sitting close together, Mashkov’s posture relaxed. He was looking at Kent like he’d rather eat him than dinner, almost always turned toward him, arm slung over the back of Kent’s chair when the camera showed them. Every now and again one of them would lean into the other, murmuring something. Sometimes Kent laughed.

It took a while for the players to settle down. Kent and Alexei were caught in audience shots from time to time, applauding for other players and grinning. They seemed comfortable together. The Calder and the Art Ross had been determined prior to the Cup finals, and so -- while they were still a big deal -- they didn’t have quite the same air of anticipation around them as the other, more disputed awards. Trophy after trophy went out, each player making a small acceptance speech. Most of them thanked family, significant others, their teams, and their coaches.

Bitty had just gotten back from a quick run to the kitchen for a soda when the announcer stepped up to award the Lady Byng. “And this year the Lady Byng Award for sportsmanship and gentlemanly conduct goes to -- Kent Parson.”

Mashkov hugged Kent, laughing at the look on his face. He leaned forward, murmuring something in Kent’s ear, and then Kent laughed, too. He shook hands with several other players and hugged Troy before making his way up to the podium to accept the award, Bun under his arm.

“I, um.” Kent looked at the trophy. “God. I -- thank you. I just, um. I had this whole acceptance speech planned, but I can’t remember any of it.” He smiled, eyes shimmering. “You know, hockey hasn’t always been the most accepting place. And this year has been… tough. I’ve been lucky to receive the support I’ve had.” His hand hovered near Señor Bun. “From lots of places.” Kent smiled. “Thank you for making our sport better.”

He returned to his seat, pausing to shake hands on the way with a few other players. Bitty was disappointed when the camera cut away from Kent, but the groupchat was alight with speculation on the winners of the next awards. He lost track of time when he had to defuse a squabble between Dex and Nursey.

“They gave Parson the Lady Byng?” Dex said.

“Well, yeah,” said Nursey. “He displayed sportsmanlike conduct -- he hardly said a word about that attempted murder on the ice. That’s what it’s for.”

“I’m just saying,” Dex said, “that the award should be given based on good play, not politics. You know?”

“It’s not politics, dude,” Nursey said. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“It is politics,” Dex countered. “The NHL doesn’t want to look bad by ignoring the incident, that’s what --”

“Dude, are you saying Kent Parson’s, like, blackmailing the NHL into giving him an award? It’s not even that hard to make the League look bad --”

“That’s not what I --”

“Boys,” Bitty said, “please. Nobody’s blackmailing anyone. They voted. Let it go.” The announcer had gone through several awards during the argument. When he turned his full attention back to the video, they were on the King Clancy.

“The King Clancy Memorial Trophy is presented annually to a player for leadership qualities both on and off the ice while making a significant humanitarian contribution to his community. Let’s take a look at this year’s winner,” the announcer smiled. “Kent Parson.”

A video detailing Kent’s captaincy of the Las Vegas Aces as well as his work with the C.O.P.S. organization began to roll. Bitty knew that Kent spent time and money helping other police survivors -- families who’d lost a loved one in the line of duty -- but they didn’t talk much about it. Kent volunteered with an outdoors program in the summer as well as attending support group meetings and donating money to the organization.

“I didn’t know Parson’s dad was a cop,” said Dex. “That’s cool.”

“He died a long time ago,” Jack said. “Shot on duty.”

“He doesn’t talk about it very much,” said Bitty.

On stage, Kent took the trophy, looking down at it for a moment. He set Señor Bun on the podium next to the cup in full view of the camera. “I’ve already thanked you all,” Kent said. His voice was steady. “And I’m so grateful. I think it’s obvious by now that what we do off the ice matters just as much as the game we play on it. And I think that a lot of us understand that being in the public eye carries some amount of responsibility with it, so. I’d just like to say that tonight, this is for every gay player before me, every player who wasn’t able to be open about his life, his love, his experience. I know you were here. We are here. And for those of you who, I know, must still be in the closet, I just want to say that that’s okay, too.” He was looking directly at a camera. “When you’re ready -- if you’re ever ready -- I’ll still be here.” Kent smiled. “Thank you.”

Bitty scrubbed tears off his face.

“Aw, Bits,” said Holster.

“Classy as fuck,” Shitty said. “Goddamnit. He does not give a shit. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Jack didn’t say anything.

“There’s your backup plan, Bitty! Just, you know. Graduate college first,” Ransom said.

“Shut up,” Bitty grumbled, wiping at his face.

They didn’t show Kent on camera again. The rest of the awards went by in a blur, and all Bitty could think about was how long it might take Kent to get home and how soon he would call. Kent put Bun on the podium. Everyone saw it. And for him to basically say I’ll wait for you, it just -- if he thought about it too long, Bitty’s throat tightened right up again. When he said goodnight to the rest of the team, his face still felt vaguely damp.

The phone rang once Bitty was already in bed, lights out.

“Baby!” Bitty’s face hurt from smiling. “You were perfect! Lord, you were just -- that suit and your speech, you were just… just amazing! Lord. I wish I could’ve been there!”

“Eric!” Kent’s voice came down the line, a bit frantic. “Thank god. Listen -- please don’t be mad, okay, it wasn’t my idea -- I didn’t know it was a -- I thought it was just a friend thing, or just a supportive thing, and then --”

“Sweetie,” Bitty said, stomach sinking, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“He kissed me!” Kent said. “Fuck. I didn’t know. I swear to god. I’m sorry. But it’s not cheating if I didn’t kiss him back, right? Or -- or if I only accidentally kissed him back for like, a half a second? Because I would never --”

“Who?”

“Alexei fucking Mashkov!”

#kent parson #omgcp fic #eric bittle #my writing #hummingbird heartbeat #jack zimmermann #bittyparse #check please fic #here we go...#omgcp #check please #youtube AU #this doesn't get a pb&J tag right?#or does it?#i don't know.#pb&j???????????#something else entirely????#patater????? who knows

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