#can i just say that he's insane for sitting out the whole season and skating two challengers and a few shows FOR THE SECOND TIME RUNNING

[bluespring864]

Jason Brown wins the silver medal at the 2024 US National Championships

[dangermousie]

2020 End of Year Post - cdrama edition

This is only going to cover cdramas that aired in 2020; if I had to make a post about all the cdramas I watched this year, I would still be doing it in three months...

Overall it’s been a fairly decent cdrama year (certainly better than the very lacklustre kdrama year.) It’s no miracle that 2019 was (so many excellent dramas!) but overall pretty solid.

DRAMAS WATCHED

(In order of liking from least to most as opposed to pure quality; I am including if I’ve seen enough to make up my mind; yes I realize that’s inaccurate, but that’s my list)

44 The Legend of Jing Yan - the worst cdrama I have seen this year, and possibly the worst drama of 2020, period. The hero and heroine were both uncharismatic, incapable of acting and saddled with such shrilly moronic characters, the only suspense was how they haven’t both perished long since from forgetting to breathe. Nor was anyone in the rest of the cast much better; the screenplay was written by a lower mammal and the cinematography was the best a third-rate wedding cinematographer could offer. Stay the HELL away from this one.

43 Unicorn Girl - the only unicorn about this bland yet irritating piece of pap was the fact that I was supposed to believe the leads are hockey players.

42 Autumn Cicada - I like spy stories, Allen Ren, and Republican Era settings. I can tune out Communist propaganda with the best of them. Yet, the propaganda ate the story to such a degree that there was nothing left; pre magic change Pinocchio was less wooden then this narrative.

41 You Complete Me - no you do not.

40 Skate into Love - the only positive thing I can say about this is that at least it’s better than Unicorn Girl, if for no other reason that only one of them is supposed to be a hockey player.

39 Irreplaceable Love - how do you make a story about fake siblings with a mad mother falling for each other boring? I don’t know, ask the makers of this.

38 Eternal Love Rain - I hate to rain on their parade, but these two actors cannot act, have about as much chemistry as a piece of bread, and are trapped in a story perfect for entertaining the mental abilities of the leads of Jin Yan.

37 For Married Doctoress - ummmm, you could do worse I guess. It only made me break out in mild hives. The sadistic ending did make me laugh though.

36 Dance of the Sky Empire - why you get Xu Kai and waste him in this insipid mess of a story is beyond me.

35 Love Designer - it’s inoffensive except to my sense of entertainment. There is nothing wrong with it but oh God is it bland.

34 Love a Lifetime - It felt like a lifetime watching this, but I didn’t love it. The story is incoherent, the actors have no chemistry and it’s all an epic waste of time.

33 Love is Sweet - so sweet it gave me diabetes. I like Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu, but there is literally no plot. I don’t need to sink into a plotless morass to watch pretty people engage in PG-rated make-outs. I am an adult with access to stronger stuff if I am thus inclined, though to be fair they could get x-rated and I still wouldn’t be able to sit through so many episodes of plotlessness for that.

32 Fake Princess - I love Zhao Yi Qin, but the guy needs to pick better projects. The female lead in this one has the voice and personality that can strip paint but the story is also doing nobody any favors.

31 The Changan Youth - I lost my brain checking this out. I had to go and read a dense treatise on medieval coinage or Mayan farming to try to recover it.

30 My Dear Destiny - kinda cheesy fun. It honestly shouldn’t be as low except it really feels like community theater.

29 Handsome Siblings - why is the Nic Tse version so good and this one so bad? True mystery for the ages. Chen Zhe Yuan is the sole reason this isn’t lower, because that kid tries SO HARD to make this drama bearable and almost succeeds. I can’t wait to see him in Sha Po Lang which actually will give him something to do.

28 In a Class of Her Own - see my comment on The Changan Youth. But at least Song Weilong is gorgeous to look at.

27 General’s Lady - inoffensive, pretty and so utterly pointless.

26 The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion - those two leading actors are a no go to me but at least they considerately acted with each other instead of ruining two dramas for me. It’s very pretty though.

25 Jiu Liu Overlord - it’s a mess and I bailed, but I placed it this high merely due to the fact that Lai Yi finally gets a leading role and he’s sexy as fuck and I am shallow. Whoever styled Bai Lu should never work again except at a circus, however.

24 Cross Fire - not my genre and Luhan will always look too much like my cousin for comfort, but it’s a surprisingly gripping and dark drama. I liked it!

23 God of Lost Fantasy - if you want to watch a mediocre wuxia/xianxia, this is not a bad choice. Probably better than Legend of Fei actually, because at least it doesn’t have an A-list cast to waste and gives us Sheng Yilun himbo and shirtless.

22 Renascence - the insane cuts (it went from 70 eps to 36!!!) made a fairly cheesy story into a total mess. But I had a good time until I finally bailed mainly because of the male lead (Chen Zhe Yuan yet again carrying a not-good 2020 drama on his shoulders; the guy should be nicknamed Atlas) and the insane but in a fun way story. The female lead (both the character and the actress) were not up to par but oh well.

21 Legend of Fei - only this high because objectively there is nothing I disliked it. But there is nothing I liked either. The most uninspired drama on the list. If you could eat cardboard, this is what it would taste like.

20 Ever Night 2 - compared to EN1, it’s a waste of film. On its own merits, it’s not very good (the cast replacements are uniformly inferior and Dylan Wang is so wrong for Ning Que I cannot even put it into words; the script is useless.) But it had some parts I loved so very VERY much (all the shippy stuff was perfection) so I don’t feel too bitter.

19 Castle in the Sky 2 - a lovely if not too complex fairy tale. It is inferior to its prequel because it doesn’t have Zhang Ruo Yun who elevated it, but it’s still a solid bit of fun.

18 The Great Ruler - it’s very high fantasy, very pretty, and surprisingly involving.

17 (tie) Legend of Two Sisters in the Chaos - the secondary couple steals the show but the rest is not too bad if not too involving.

17 Legend of Awakening - a solid bit of fun with a seriously BDSM streak (theme this year apparently - but come on, the lead’s powers only activate when he’s in extreme pain!) It’s a bit generic and the costuming is done by a blind person, not to mention the OTP is a NOTP, but the rest of relationships (romantic and platonic) are wonderful (I live for the found siblings story in this one) and I like most of the characters.

16 Consummation - a rare modern cdrama I liked; a sweet coming of age story (and love story) even if wrapped in a pretty weird virtual reality concept.

15 Oops the King is in Love - this is how you do a low budget, sweet, silly piece of fluff. Our heroine pretends to be a eunuch and crosses paths with a powerless young king and they are adorable, even more so than the drama.

14 Song of Glory - pretty solid, though draggy and I didn’t love the toothpaste filter. But A+ cast, excellent leading couple chemistry, Li Qin being a BAMF and a leading man (Qin Hao) who is actually an adult.

13 And the Winner is love - objectively kind of a mess (and the heroine has the brainpower of a gnat), but the OTP chemistry is excellent and Luo Yunxi fighting and flirting with a fan as finally a leading man is worth the price of admission.

12 Miss S - snazzy and snappy and stylish and whatever else starts with S.

11 Eternal Love of Dream - I don’t know if it would work for you as well if you weren’t a hardcore shipper for this OTP in Three Lives but I was and this was such a darling, wonderful, shippy delight; plus I love this type of high fantasy.

10 (tie) Maiden Holmes - solid and sweet and a wonderful OTP. Proves that functional doesn’t have to mean boring. If you watch one cross-dressing drama this year make it this one.

10 Qin Dynasty Epic - srs bsns history epic. I am not far into it but it’s so good and smart and visually stunning (if you love battles, this one is for you.)

9 Love Lasts Two Minds - I adored this so much more than I should objectively have, but it’s so beautiful (and no I am not just referring to Alan Yu’s face) and the OTP has wonderful chemistry and the story is solid, and the whole trope of her memory being wiped but falling for him all over again while he’s constantly and utterly devoted is a fave; plus he’s in pain and semi-dyng for most of it so sluuuurp (happy ending, don’t worry)

8 To Love - yes, a modern drama is this high! But it involves intensity, tragedy, genuine adults and sexiness that is Lin Gengxin. And there is an actual plot and darkness OMG!

7 Legend of Xiao Chuo - so beautiful, so fun, so full of gorgeousness of Shawn Dou. Plus, Liao is a rare setting for a cdrama and there are a lot of characters and stories I liked a LOT. Less ship content than I wanted but more than I expected.

6 The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so so delightful. I was literally laughing out loud. I have no idea if it will work as well if one isn’t a seasoned watcher of period cdrama/reader of web novels, with bonus for watching/reading Goodbye My Princess, but it was a complete delight for me (and yes, I shipped for real, as well. Best of both worlds.)

5 Twisted Fate of Love - Jin Han gets a leading period drama role! And he’s enjoying it to the hilt, excellent as a smart, twisty bastard who is also charming and so madly in love with heroine. Sun Yi is beautiful and tough and her chemistry with JH is on fire, the story never drags, and it’s so twisty and fun and just awesome.

4 Love In Between - the most underrated drama on this list. It has no big names or big budget, but it’s wuxia that’s clever, driven, tragic, hopeful and so beautifully shot. Three separate (amazing) OTPs, a leading man who is so not typical (a doctor who cannot fight and who never acquires this ability) and who is intense and smart and damaged, a heroine who puts her quest ahead of her emotions, an unhealthy degree of involvement by yours truly. This is a drama Fei should have been.

3 Love and Redemption - such a lovely, addictive, utterly romantic fairy tale. I was obsessed with it for a reason. All the tropes you love and some you didn’t know you did, a star-crossed OTP to the nth power (and a secondary OTP I hardcore love), a twisty yet coherent plot, some insane chemistry and so much whump and hurt/comfort they must have bought blood packets in bulk.

2 Go Ahead - yes, I can’t believe it either. A contemporary slice of life cdrama made it this high on my list. But the way it feels so real, the found family perfection, the characters I love and loathe, the perfect cherry of a wonderful OTP that hits my narrative kinks on top, and just a perfect storm of loveliness all around with this one.

1 The Wolf - is that any surprise to anyone who’s checked out this tumblr for the last couple of months? Tragic, intense and gorgeous; so romantic and angsty and passionate it made me lose my mind (though some of it was gone the moment the camera panned to Darren Wang) - all my favorite tropes and then some; this is a drama that may not be perfect but it is 100% and then beyond perfect for ME.

FAVORITE DRAMA

The Wolf - I have seen objectively better cdramas; even this year. But it has been literal years since I have been this hardcore obsessed, this utterly pleased, this emotionally catered to and devastated at once. A beautiful dark fairy tale that manages to own me despite the storytelling gaps due to censorship, it took me for one of the biggest emotional roller coaster rides of my drama watching career. Visually gorgeous, poetic, intense, and so romantic it took my breath away, this is not just my favorite cdrama of 2020, it’s my favorite drama this year period, and the one cdrama this year to make it into my permanent Top 10 cdramas list.

WORST DRAMA

Legend of Jin Yan - see my write up for it for why as I refuse to waste more time on this stupid mess.

FAVORITE MALE CHARACTER

Wolfie, The Wolf - he is such a haunted, tormented, complex, dark mess; loving and violent, severely damaged and with a hidden yearning softness, longing and aloof. And the amount of charisma and sheer masculine sex appeal Darren Wang brings to the role is insane and not something I see much of in a cdrama. Plus, that character arc with its rapid fall and slow painful redemption is A++++

Runner Up:  Sifeng, Love and Redemption - has a male lead ever loved more utterly and selflessly, suffered more thoroughly and beautifully, and managed to have such chemistry with both his leading lady and his leading man (that his leading lady temporarily turned into) at once? The answer is no.

Almost made the cut - Feng Xi, Twisted Fate of Love, Han Shuo, The Romance of Tiger and Rose, Qing Ci, Love in Between.

FAVORITE FEMALE CHARACTER

Xiao Qian, The Romance of Tiger and Rose - so funny, so much the reason this drama was such a delight. I adore her beyond words.

NEEDS TO BE MURDERED

Murder Daddy, The Wolf - I am sad the censors robbed us of seeing him die on screen. He was fully human but nonetheless managed to be the worst monster in a drama full of literal ones.

Ling Xiao’s Mom, Go Ahead - I hate her so much I don’t want to look up her name. She abused the kid, the disappeared and came back to abuse him some more. I mean she literally gave her child mental health issues. She is the WORST.

FAVORITE SHIP

Xing’er x Wolfie, The Wolf - are you kidding me? Who else could it ever be for me? They destroyed each other and saved each other, sworn enemies and childhood lovers, soulmates and epic messes, they couldn’t live with or without each other. The longing, the passion, the intensity, the angst, the epicness. LIKE THERE ARE NO WORDS!!!!

FAVORITE SECONDARY OTP

Si Yuan, Shen Manqing, Love in Between - I loved them as much and often more than the main OTP. So much angst and passion and a happy ending! She is a seeming sect darling (except the sect is horrible and also sexist so her only worth is as a marriage candidate) and he’s an information broker who is actually one of the members of a destroyed sect that’s blamed for the massacre of her family. That chemistry and yearning is insane. The scene where she touches his face when he’s unconscious was in serious running for my favorite scene of 2020.

NOTP

Legend of Awakening - I have never seen a couple that didn’t just have no chemistry but exhibited actual revulsion towards each other before watching Chen Feiyu and Cheng Xiao try to act as lovers in this one. It was almost entertaining to be honest.

FAVORITE SCENE

It’s a tie and both are from The Wolf. One is a sequence where Wolfie marches to the walls alone, seeking death at Xing’er’s hands and the whole sequence with the battle and rescue follows. The other is the intercut between Xing’er going to her wedding and Wolfie going to his execution, and the auto-da-fe being intercut with her wedding.

BIGGEST CRUSH

Wolfie, The Wolf - Ummm have you seen this tumblr lately, it’s basically a drool shrine to the man.

BEST SCENE STEALER CHARACTER

Yelü Yansage, The Legend of Xiao Chuo - I have loved this actor since The Myth and he continued to competently steal every scene he was in.

NEEDS A SEQUEL

To Love - come out of the coma, dammit!!!!!!!

NEEDS A DIRECTOR’S CUT

The Wolf - duh. It started out as 59 eps and got cut to 49. I reaiize some stuff is never gonna get put in due to censorship, but some of the stuff that got cut got for time reasons because they were deluded and hoping to get a TV broadcast so ep count had to be under 50. I mean I doubt the censors would care if they kept scenes of Wolfie building her a swing or whatever. I really really want a director’s cut the way Goodbye My Princess did even if like with GMP it’s only three extra eps. Hell, I will take extra three minutes, as long as those three minutes are Darren Wang shirtless or with a sword. Ahem.

NEEDS SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

The Song of Glory - it’s a fairly solid drama but honestly it didn’t need to be as long as it was and kind of got draggy and I got lost interest. (I could have gotten snarky and said all the dramas I didn’t like needed scissors taken to them in their entirety but decided to play nice.)

TOO MANY SCISSORS TAKEN TO IT

There are a number of dramas I could complain about with regard to this (hi there, darling The Wolf!) but this award goes to Renascence - poor Renascence was never going to be a masterpiece, but it had the potential to be a bit of good cheesy fun until it had its run time cut by more than half and became an incoherent piece of insanity.

TROPE THAT NEEDS TO DIE

Dumb shrill innocent heroine who can’t tie her shoes - see basically all the cdramas I didn’t like this year.

FAVORITE TROPE WE’VE SEEN A LOT OF

Male lead torture - I mean it’s always open season on that in cdramas, but between Love and Redemption, The Wolf, Love Lasts Two Minds, Love in Between and so on, it was a banner year!

BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT

Legend of Fei - what a waste of that cast; what a waste of our finite time on this Earth. What a waste of my intelligence to hope for something better and stick with it for a dozen eps. I have had stale wonderbread that had more personality than this drama.There is absolutely nothing that stands out about this drama in any way,  from half-dimensional characters, to actors who are sleepwalking, to a plot that moves at the speed of an arthritic snail, to uninspired cinematography and direction, to lack of any chemistry between anyone in the cast. If paint-by-numbers was done by a group of particularly linear robots, it might come across the same way as this drama.

BIGGEST GOOD SURPRISE

The Wolf - honestly, I did not expect it to come out AT ALL EVER let alone to become my favorite drama of 2020. I was not familiar with the leading man (hahah), I liked Li Qin but wasn’t yet obsessed with her, and Xiao Zhan was excellent in The Untamed but I was hardly going to follow him from drama to drama (and I don’t do SLS any way.) And the trailer was enjoyable but unlike seemingly everyone, I didn’t think it was going to be some epic masterpiece. And then it came out and while it wasn’t objectively an epic masterpiece, it pulled out all the favorite tropes, shippy and narrative kinks from the deepest darkest recesses of my id. And I fell harder than I have in years. 

2020 DRAMAS I HAVEN’T SEEN THAT I MOST WANT TO WATCH

None. Covid Year gave me PLENTY of time

BEST NON-2020 DRAMA I’VE WATCHED IN 2020

Novoland Eagle Flag and Joy of Life - they are in my Top 10 dramas from anywhere now. They are quite different except being smart and giving me protagonists to obsess over.

ETA: Also The Untamed because @idlewilds3 pointed out I actually watched it in 2020 even though I didn’t think so because this hellyear has lasted about three decades.

MOST ANTICIPATED IN 2021

I am gonna limit it to dozen and leaving out ones that aren’t necesarily supposed to air next year (Joy of Life 2, Love in Flames of War, Novoland Princess from Plateau.)

Monarch Industry, Novoland Pearl Eclipse, Silk Washing Stream, Dream of Changan, Sword Snow Stride, Wu Xing Shi Jia, Ancient Love Poetry, Immortality, The Long Ballad, Mirror Twin Cities, The Imperial Age, Fall In Love

[woah-were-halfway-there]

Mia’s First Game

A/N: as requested, here’s the little blurb that I originally was going to post the other day but didn’t. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

With Mia being born at the end of January and the Leafs' season getting cut short at the beginning of May that year after a brief playoff run, she still hadn't been to a game. She was only three months old when the season finished, and although the thought of taking her to one of the games definitely crossed your mind, with how she was in the routine of falling asleep around 7pm every night, it just wasn't possible. However, as summer came and went, you knew you'd be taking Mia to her first NHL game to watch her dad once the season started back up again, and you were pretty excited about it.

The original plan was to take Mia to the Saturday game after the first home game of the season that took place earlier in the week. Auston's family was flying into Toronto on the Friday, so you and Mia would go to the game with them the following evening. However, shortly after Auston left to head down to SBA for the home-opener, that changed.

While talking on the phone with Steph, who was getting ready with a couple of the other wives and girlfriends of players, you became convinced not to spend your night at home. The girls booked a booth at SBA to all get-together and watch the game as a way to celebrate the new season starting, and of course, you and Mia were invited. But you kept declining because you were so set on attending Saturday's game, although you really had no reason not to go to both.

At eight months old, Mia was full of energy, and you knew she'd have a ton of fun hanging out with the other girls that she's come to know, all while cheering on Auston and the rest of the guys. You weren't sure why you didn't agree to just go in the first place regardless of whether you'd have to leave a little early and take Mia home, but the more you talked to Steph, the more you became convinced that you should.

However, with you being, well, you, there was no way you were going to start getting ready without talking to Auston's family first, seeing as you knew they were excited about going to the game with Mia on Saturday. They immediately told you not to worry about them and to go have fun with your friends, but not without mentioning how they'd be watching for Auston's reaction to one he realized you and Mia were there.

The thought of seeing your husband's surprised expression after noticing that his two girls were at the game made you smile, and you became even more excited as you quickly packed up your things, then grabbed Mia and left to go over and get ready at Steph and Mitch's place.

About two hours later, you and Mia were all dressed in your matching Matthews jerseys and were ready to go. It was great catching up with all the other wives and girlfriends that you hadn't gotten to see since your wedding at the end of July because after that, you got sucked into everything involved with moving from the downtown condo to your new house. You also met and welcomed some of the new girls that recently moved to Toronto with their man for the new season as well, all of whom were lovely.

Mia was having a great time too, and just by seeing how happy she was, you knew that you made the right call about going to the game. But, soon enough, it was time to go. After the whole group took some pictures in their jerseys, including Steph stealing Mia for some pics with her goddaughter, you all headed downtown together so you could watch your guys in action.

Upon arriving at the arena, your whole group went to the suite that was booked out for you girls to drop off your things, then you, Mia, and Steph headed to the Platinum Club so the three of you could be let up to the glass one warmups started. You chatted with a worker who was going to escort the three of you to the rinkside just as the Leafs took to the ice, as Mia babbled away in your arms and took in her surroundings.

Soon enough, the team was announced, and the crowd started going wild. You and Steph then followed the worker down the hall and walked right up the glass before waiting and watching as the guys took the ice. You could hear fans nearby talking and mentioning pointing out that Auston's wife and daughter were there, which made you a little nervous because Mia has never really been so in the public eye before. But, your nerves soon melted away.

"Mom, they're wearing Matthews jerseys like us," You heard a small voice speak up, then glanced over to where two kids were sitting with their parents. The little girl appeared to be maybe six or seven. Meanwhile, her brother seemed a bit younger. With how she was glancing up at who you assumed was her mom, obviously looking for a response, you knew that she was the one who mentioned the jerseys.

"Yes, honey," the mother replied. "That's Auston's family. They're here to watch the game just like we are."

Your heart swelled so much watching their interaction, and you could feel yourself getting a little emotional because of it. Steph chuckled slightly as she watched you but also had to admit that it was all pretty cute too.

Then another voice spoke up.

"Is this your little one's first game?" An older man who was sitting in the row behind the family asked you.

"It is," you confirmed with a smile, then glanced down at your daughter. "Except we decided to come last minute, so her dad doesn't even know we're here yet. Can you say hi, Mia?"

Mia squealed in response, then got all smiley, which made those sitting nearby laugh and awe a bit at just how cute she was.

"Your daughter is beautiful," a different woman stated, making you feel even more emotional than before.

"Thank you," you responded. "I still haven't fully accepted the fact that she looks more like Auston than she does me, but I'll get over it."

"Speaking of Auston, here he comes," said another person, but you didn't even get the chance to see who because you were turning back around to face the rink just as your husband skated down from centre ice and took a shot on net.

He scored, then skated over to the boards a little bit behind the net to where Mitch, John and Willy were all standing. They talked for a few seconds before Will's gaze drifted in your direction until he spotted you, Steph and Mia, a smile stretching across his mouth as he did so.

Will then nudged both Auston and Mitch, then pointed to where you were standing so they could see too.

Upon locking eye contact with you, Auston's face lit right up, and it wasn't long before he and Mitchy were both skating over to the corner.

There was no way the two of you would've been able to hear each other through the glass, so instead, Auston gave you a look as he approached, showing that he was surprised to see you there. He also expressed that he wasn't mad about it as he winked at you and grinned cheekily.

Once the two guys reached the glass, they started waving at Mia, and much to your surprise, she immediately recognized them even in all their hockey gear.

"Da-da," she said and then reached towards the glass. Acting fast, you shifted her in your hold and lifted her so that she'd stand on the little ledge around the boards and be face to face with Auston. "Da-da!"

Mia's smile grew even wider as she stared at her dad and banged on the glass a little bit while he waved at her and blew her kisses. You then looked at your cousin as he stood next to your husband and couldn't help but smile at how he was smiling so widely as he watched Mia and Auston.

Mitch then looked at you and gave you a knowing look as if to say you better not leave before he gets the chance to see his goddaughter after the game. You nodded in understanding, which made his smile grow even wider.

However, soon enough, the moment had to come to an end because Auston and Mitch both had a game to play. It wasn't until then that you noticed the Leafs photographer only a few feet away as well and knew that he had just captured that little moment forever.

Auston and Mitchy then waved bye to you, Mia and Steph before going back to the rest of the team to finish up their warmups and get ready to start the game.

Mark, the team photographer, then approached the three of you to show you the images he took. There was one of you holding Mia while facing the fans with your backs to the camera that showcased your Matthews jerseys, another of you, Mia and Steph, all standing together looking very happy as you waited for your guys. And then the last one, which was probably your favourite, was a closeup of Mia and Auston as they smiled at each other through the glass, then had you in the background looking at the two of them and smiling fondly. It was adorable, and Mark assured that he'd send the pictures to you and Auston once he edited them.

After that, the three of you headed back to the booth, but not without saying bye to the Leafs fans you chatted with and told them you hoped they enjoyed the game.

Everyone welcomed you back excitedly at the suite before you all settled in and got ready to watch your guys play their first game of the season.

The Leafs ended up winning, which had the energy in the arena feeling insane but in the best way possible. On top of it, Auston scored two of the goals, which helped result in the team's 4-3 victory over Calgary.

By the end of the game, Mia was very tired. However, she wasn't getting fussy. She just continued fighting so hard to keep her eyes open and enjoyed her time being around people she was comfortable within this entirely new setting.

As everyone began clearing out of their seats, your whole group went back down to the Platinum Club and waited for the guys. Steph carried Mia all the way there, but after a few minutes, Mia began reaching for you because whenever she got exhausted, she only wanted her parents and would become overly snuggly.

Once you took her from Steph, she immediately clung to you and leaned against your shoulder while you assured her that you'd be going home very soon.

A few minutes later, the guys started filing into the waiting area, all happy to see their significant others and families as they greeted them after their big win. As you waited for Auston, you spotted Mitchy first, and he wasted no time coming over to say hi to Mia but was also very respectful of the fact that she was exasperated.

Not long after that, Auston entered the room and smiled so wide again once he laid eyes on you and Mia.

"There's my girls," he greeted happily as he approached the two of you, then took Mia from your hold, awing as she let out a yawn and immediately snuggled against him. "You tired, mini?"

"She's very tired, but she's trying hard to stay awake at the moment," you explained, then smiled as Auston wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss.

"And how are you feeling, baby mama? This was your first big night out with Mia, and I must say, you both sure made my night by being here."

You rolled your eyes at his baby mama comment but couldn't help the blush that burned your cheeks at the rest of what he said.

"You're making it sound like I don't have a life, babe. But I'm good. Really glad I decided to bring Mia out tonight. We had a lot of fun, didn't we, sweet girl?"

Mia didn't respond. You didn't expect her to, especially with her minimal vocabulary. Instead, she mindlessly brought her hand up to her mouth and began sucking on it, then using her other hand to rub her cheek. She'd been teething like crazy lately, and those actions were what she did when her mouth was beginning to bother her.

You and Auston looked at each other knowingly after that because you both knew how if she were in discomfort, mixed with how she was already so exhausted, things would get real messy real soon. So, without even having to agree on it, you both started saying your goodbyes and headed home.

Deep down, you knew that night would probably be a little rough with Mia and trying to get her to sleep comfortably, but you weren't worried. You were so content and knew that Mia also had a good night out, so it was worth it. And besides, you didn't have to do it alone. Auston was there too, he wasn't going anywhere, and you knew you'd get through whatever else your little family needed to face together.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 4/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“Buck!”

Buck nearly slices his hand on the skate he’s supposed to be sharpening when he hears May’s voice. He drags his eyes away from ice long enough to see her, Chim, and Maddie looking at him expectedly. Apparently, that wasn’t the first time she’d said his name.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said we’re going to that Thai place on Sawtelle for dinner, do you wanna come?”

“Oh, uh—” his eyes drift back in time to see Eddie land his cleanest quad lutz all day, and he tries not to smile. “I’ve got a session with Hen in a little bit, maybe tomorrow?”

“You okay, Buckaroo?” Chim asks. “You look...forlorn.”

Buck snorts and shakes his head. “I’m fine, just tired.”

Chim shrugs as he follows the girls out of the rink. Buck tries to focus, tries to get lost in the back and forth of sharpening, but he keeps getting distracted by Eddie’s practice and the way he commands the ice even when no one’s scoring him. He feels an ache in his chest watching him, a dull one but still there — it’s been a month since Skate America, and they still have lunch and hang out and everything is fine, but there’s also a tension between them now, the tension of knowing what it’s like to have their hands on each other, what the other one tastes like, and wanting to do it more. 

They make eye contact as Eddie heads for the locker room, and he sends Buck a smile so warm Buck swears it’s better than sunshine.

He keeps thinking this waiting thing is going to get easier, but it really, really hasn’t.

“Did you guys get a divorce or something?” Buck jumps as Hen sits down next to him and starts lacing up her skates. 

“What? We haven’t— We never— What?” Buck asks, voice an octave higher than normal. 

Hen levels him with an unimpressed look. “Don’t give me that. You went from hating him to being attached at the hip to staring at him like a lovesick puppy in like six weeks. Either this is a lover’s spat, or it’s some kinky roleplay thing that I don’t actually want to know anything about.”

Buck doesn’t think he’s ever blushed so hard or so fast in his whole life. “Jesus, it’s none of those things! We—” he looks around quickly before turning back and lowering his voice, “we did kiss, at Skate America, but it was just once and we decided to...pause any next relationship steps until after the Olympics.”

“Why? You’re allowed to date teammates, that’s not against the rules.”

“I know, but—” he’s not sure how to explain I can’t stop thinking about him but that makes me lose focus and as much as I want to make out with him I also want to beat him at every possible competition without sounding insane, so he settles on “we just don’t want any distractions.”

“So you’re gonna pine for each other from afar for the next three months, because that’s less distracting than actually being together?”

Buck pauses lacing up his own skates. “Okay, so maybe it’s not a great plan.”

Hen shrugs as she pushes off from the boards, skating backwards so Buck can still see her skeptical frown. “It might be easier to handle if you just embrace it now. I know it’ll be easier for me to handle.”

Maybe she’s right, a little voice in his head whispers, because it makes sense. But at the same time, a relationship is something he’s never had to factor into competition season before, so he’s honestly not sure how to navigate it. Maybe it starts great, they’re mooning over each other, but then one of them has a bad showing, and it leads to animosity or jealousy or some other ugly thing that would drive a wedge back between them when they’d (he’d) just overcome it. Buck cares about Eddie, cares about their friendship, their potential relationship, Eddie’s general happiness. But he also cares about his career, about his own dreams, and call him selfish or single minded, but he really cares about winning the Olympics. And he’s not willing to risk hurting any of those things by jumping into something too quickly.

He wants to do this with Eddie, but he wants to do this right, when he can make Eddie a top priority like he deserves. If that means he has to endure a few more months of pining, then fine. Come February, it’ll all be more than worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, he’s sitting cross-legged at center ice, staring off at nothing, when he sees Eddie skating over to him out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t say anything, just sits down next to Buck, copying his position, and inviting himself into the reflective silence Buck’s created in the dim morning light.

He finds he doesn’t mind the company so much. 

“Are we meditating?” Eddie whispers eventually, like he still respects the quiet even though he has no idea what it’s for. 

“Something like that,” Buck says, and Eddie nods, lets them fall back into their own thoughts. It makes Buck melt a little bit, a welcome relief from the incessant buzzing he’s been feeling under his skin all morning.

The truth is, Buck hasn’t been able to make himself move for about 20 minutes. He came in for one last early practice before they’re supposed to fly to Japan, fell on every single jump he attempted, and eventually just didn’t get back up. He had half hoped giving up would spurn his stubborn streak to try one more time one last jump, but instead he just sat, his worries burying him deeper and deeper like freshly fallen snow.

He groans and leans back, laying flat on the ice, trying to focus on the bite of the cold on the back of his head instead of anything else. Eddie follows suit to mirror him again, and Buck’s stupidly grateful that he’s here. He turns his head to face him and is met with eyes glowing honey colored in the sunlight.

“I’m really worried about fucking everything up,” he says in a rush, like Eddie’s gaze pulled it right out of him before he could put all is walls up and lock them, pretend like he’s still strong and has it all together.

“You won’t,” Eddie says with no hesitation.

Buck rolls his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’ve watched you skate since we were 16. I know setbacks make you fight harder.”

“This isn’t about setbacks,” he says, sitting up and resting back on his hands. “This is about going to the last GP before the Final, where everyone is warmed up and has all their kinks worked out, while I can’t even land a clean triple loop.”

Eddie, once again, sits up to mirror him. “One bad practice doesn’t mean anything. Your programs are solid, the audience and the judges love you, you really have nothing to worry about.”

“Except your perfect jumps getting in my way.”

Eddie laughs and it echoes around the rink. “Yeah, except that. But hey, if I win, I’ll let you hold the medal, just to remember what gold feels like.”

With anyone else, Buck would bristle at a joke like that, especially after a trainwreck of a practice. Hell, three months ago, he certainly wouldn’t have been okay with Eddie saying it. But now he just laughs, and he feels almost relieved, because despite their being direct competition, despite the pause they put on whatever it was they were moving towards, he still has Eddie in his corner. He might not actually know how this next week will go, but Eddie believes in him, and right now, it’s enough to finally get him up off the ice, offering a hand down to Eddie to pull him up too. They linger for a minute, hands still clasped, before Buck pulls away and glides toward the edge of the rink.

“Think you can’t beat me in a 500 meter, golden boy?”

Eddie smiles that smile that makes Buck’s stomach drop, and then he’s flashing past him, halfway around the ice before Buck can even start. They go around and around, name calling and playfully shoving, and Buck’s nerves melt away with every burst of speed and every glimpse of joy on Eddie’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they land in Sapporo, Buck’s so exhausted he feels a little drunk. He’s never been good at sleeping on long flights, always too distracted by the endless movie choices or a trashy thriller he picked up at Hudson News or his own worries swirling in his head. He finally managed to fall asleep for an hour before he was woken up by the warm weight of Eddie’s cheek resting on his shoulder, his hair softly brushing his jaw.

His only focus after that was on keeping as still as possible for the rest of the flight.

Eddie, thankfully, takes charge of herding him through customs and to the car waiting for them at arrivals, gently steering him so he avoids people and poles while his eyes are half closed. He’s much nicer about it than Maddie ever is, and he only runs into a wall once. Eddie apologizes for it profusely, gently rubbing his head checking for bumps. Buck has to literally bite his tongue before an embarrassing string of words tumbles of his exhausted mouth.

They make it to the hotel in one piece, and Buck barely has time to take his shoes off before he passes out, starfished on the bed, soothed by the background noise of Eddie puttering around the bathroom. 30 seconds later (actually four hours but it feels much shorter), an alarm goes off, and Buck is once again herded around the room and out the door, a cup of coffee shoved into his hand as they get in the van to take them to practice. 

Thanks to the coffee and a 30 minute nap in the van, Buck’s at least awake enough to be functional when they arrive. He’s even more awake after a few laps around the rink, the wind stinging his face a better pick-me-up than caffeine. He runs his jumps with Bobby, lands them clean, and he feels good, his nerves quieted by lingering exhaustion and confidence he hasn’t been able to find in a few weeks. 

He sees Eddie by the boards, the usual thrill of having him watch running through him, pushing him just a little bit harder, but it’s quickly snuffed out when he sees that Eddie’s not alone, and he’s not even looking at the ice. Instead, he’s talking to a handsome Russian skater, one that Buck’s known since they were juniors so he knows how big of an asshole he is. He’s laughing loudly like Eddie just told the funniest joke he’s ever heard, his hand running up and down Eddie’s bicep in a much too friendly way. Buck tries to shake it off and keep focused, but after falling out of two spins and almost face planting on a three turn, Hen sends him off to stretch on his own and “get your damn head on straight”. He stalks off, passing close enough to Eddie and The Asshole to hear The Asshole ask when Eddie will have time to get dinner before going back to the States. 

Buck...he’s not jealous. He has no reason to be, he and Eddie are not dating. But he feels something boiling hot and nasty in his stomach, and he kind of wants to slam the guy’s hand with a toe pick every time his laugh pierces through the rink.

He’s being obnoxious and distracting, so Buck is pissed, but not jealous. And he is not avoiding Eddie by hiding in Chimney’s room until he’s sure Eddie’s asleep.

He does avoid him the next day, out of an abundance of caution that his brain-to-mouth filter might fail and he’ll say something he regrets, and because he does need to get his head on straight and focus like Hen said. He needs at least silver to qualify for the Final and push him a little bit further in the USFSA’s good graces, upping his chances of being named to the Olympic team in two months. He can’t do that if he’s worrying about non-existent relationship drama. So he fills the rest of the day with practice and conditioning, working hard enough that his brain quiets and he feels prepared, but not so much that he hurts himself. He sees Eddie here and there, thinks he tries to catch his eye a few times, but he’s got tunnel vision now, and nothing short of a life or death emergency will break it. 

At least, that’s how his tunnel vision used to work. 

But the next day during short programs, he sees The Asshole strutting towards Eddie again before their warm-up group goes out, and his tunnel crumbles, filling his brain with static and rubble.  

His program could have gone worse, overall, but it also certainly could have gone better. A quad loop turned triple loop and a sketchy landing on his triple axel land him in third place, meaning his free actually has to be perfect to get him to the Final. Only the six highest scoring skaters after all Grand Prix events qualify, and last he checked, he was just in sixth place but could easily be overtaken. Eddie is (surprise surprise) in first, Buck feeling a strange mix of pride and panic as he watches him execute another flawless short. It seems to be only getting stronger as the season goes on, which should also be happening for Buck, but instead it feels like he’s slowly unravelling, hurrying to spin himself back together before he loses too much ground.

The Asshole is in second. Buck has to sit on his hands during the presser so he doesn’t reach across the table and smack that smug look right off the guy’s face.

“He really said he was ‘looking forward to representing his country at the top of the Olympic podium’. Like seriously? We’re all thinking it, but no one’s conceited enough to say it out loud and on the record.”

Maddie shrugs from the other end of the bed. “Maybe it’s a language thing. Like he meant to say ‘on the podium’ instead but got confused because English is hard.”

Buck levels her with an unimpressed glare. He had come to her room right after the presser, lamenting about everything that went wrong and stupid judges and stupid Russia (“Really, Buck? The whole country?”). He’s usually grateful for Maddie’s voice of reason, but today he just needs to vent all his frustrations that have built up over the past few days. He really doesn’t care if they make sense or not.

“You should see the way he’s throwing himself at Eddie. I’ve watched him flex his arms every time Eddie’s walked past for two days. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating.”

“Well, I’m sure Eddie’s not falling for it if this guy is as big of a jerk as you say he is.”

Buck stays quiet, avoiding her eyes and slowly dragging a french fry through ketchup on the room service plate in front of him. 

“Oh my god,” Maddie groans, reaching forward to shove his shoulder. “Do you really think Eddie is that shallow?”

“Well I don’t know!” Buck says. “I heard him ask Eddie out to dinner after the competition, maybe he said yes! It’s not like he’s seeing anyone.”

“It’s not like he’s seeing you, is what you mean. Since you were the one who said you two should wait until after Beijing.” 

“Whatever,” he mutters as he stabs another fry into ketchup.

Maddie shakes her head. “Jealousy is not a good look on you, Buck.”

“I’m not jealous! I’m just...concerned for my friend, and—” He stops as Maddie just stares at him like she sees right through him. Which, he supposes, is probably not hard for her to do. She reaches out for his hand, taking it in hers and squeezing gently.

“If you’re that ‘concerned’,” she says, air quotes very much implied, “then I think you should just go talk to him.”

“And say what? ‘I don’t want you to go on a date with that handsome Russian man because I want to go on a date with you, even though I was the one who said we should wait because I’m an idiot’?

“...maybe not those exact words. But you do have to go back to your room, because it’s after midnight, the free dance is in eight hours, and I need to sleep.” She all but rolls him off the bed, pulls him into a quick hug, then shoves him into the hallway. “You got this! Use your words!” she yells as the door closes behind her.

When he gets back, Eddie is still awake, reading a book and icing his right ankle. He smiles at him in greeting, that same soft smile that Buck’s pretty sure only he gets to see. The smile he definitely didn’t see whenever he saw Eddie talking to The Asshole.

Maybe not all hope is lost.

“Rough day?” Buck asks, nodding towards Eddie’s ankle.

“Think I just landed on it weird,” Eddie says. “You did really great.”

“I think the judges would say otherwise, but thanks. You were really great, too.” They swim in a semi-comfortable silence as Buck gets changed. He waffles back and forth on what to say, if it’s actually even worth saying anything at all despite what Maddie said, until he faces Eddie again and blurts out, “So are you gonna go to dinner with that Russian guy?”

Eddie just blinks at him for a second before he starts laughing. It’s not a mean laugh, it’s more like a I can’t believe you just said something that dumb laugh. Maddie has a laugh that’s very similar.

He’s still catching his breath a bit when he answers. “No, no I’m not going to dinner with that guy. You know him, right? He’s a total douche. Pretty sure he was actually holding a flex whenever he was talking to me.”

Buck sits on his bed and tries to keep his own laugh in, worried that it would come out hysterical with relief. Not that he ever really doubted Eddie’s taste or ability to take care of himself. It’s just...nice to have it confirmed.

“Plus,” Eddie says as he gets his composure back fully, “I, uh, told him I’m interested in someone else anyway. So hopefully he’ll back off for good.”

Buck freezes, his eyes locked on Eddie’s. A wave of guilt washes over him so suddenly it makes him nauseous. As dumb as his friends may think he is, he’s not that dumb — he knows what he asked of Eddie when he put this thing of theirs on hold. But hearing that Eddie’s following through, seeing it in action — it doesn’t sit right with him. It makes him feel like he’s imposing, like he’s taking away part of Eddie’s life just for the vague chance that they could have something, something that’s not even guaranteed no matter how right it feels to Buck even now.

“Eddie,” he starts, waffling again, “if you want— I mean you shouldn’t have to— I don’t want you waiting around for— for me, for us, if that’s not something you’re interested in anymore.”

There’s a beat before Eddie moves, tossing his book and the ice pack aside. He stands gingerly, favoring his left side just a little bit, and shushes Buck when he tries to protest. He crosses the short distance between their beds slowly, like he’s trying to make sure Buck doesn’t bolt before he gets to him. Carefully, he reaches down to take both of Buck’s hands in his, moving until he’s standing just between Buck’s legs. When Buck doesn’t look up (partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of marveling at how warm and good Eddie’s hands feel in his), he squeezes gently until he gets his attention. Buck finally manages to lift his head, and is met with a look so full of fondness it takes his breath away.

Eddie lets out a slow breath through his nose. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it meant something,” he says quietly, unwilling to disturb the bubble of peace they seem to form when they’re together. “So I’m still very interested. And I really don't mind the waiting. It’s only three months — we’ll be too stressed and working too hard to think about anything else anyway.”

Buck tries to talk around the lump in his throat, but he can’t, so he just nods instead, squeezing Eddie’s hands back. Something loosens in his chest, a tension he thought was coming from agonizing over his programs and his protocols, but maybe not. Maybe he’s come to rely on Eddie, on his friendship and general presence, more than he thought he has over the past few months. That confirmation that they’re moving toward something, together, makes him feel grounded in a way that he hasn’t felt in weeks.

They stay in their bubble for a little bit longer, and Buck feels himself calm even more. Eventually, Eddie squeezes his hands one more time, whispering “goodnight, Buck” before pulling away and getting back in his bed. He turns the lights off, the room falling into darkness, and Buck drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something’s definitely wrong. Maybe it was minor yesterday, but after landing on his ankle eight more times during his free, Eddie’s clearly favoring his left side and in a whole lot of pain. It’s clear to Buck, at least — to anyone else, Eddie is all grace and smiles as usual, easily taking first place with no way for anyone else to beat him, even with three skaters left.

But Buck knows, knows Eddie and knows that feeling of trying to push through the pain better than anyone, but he doesn’t have time to do anything about it — talk to Eddie, talk to Bobby, talk to someone — before it’s his turn to skate. He tries to shove the worry down, but that raspy little voice is back in his head, whispering about all the worst things that could be happening to Eddie, and all the worst things that could happen to him again if he fucks up his own landings. Visions of cracked bones and bandaged cuts fly through his head — flashbacks to months of bitterness and rage and uncertainty. The panic at his dream potentially slipping away from him again floods his chest and makes it hard to breathe. He swears he feels his leg seize up, just like it used to, just like it hasn’t in over a year until right now, but can’t figure out if it’s real or not.

His music starts just as his spiral does.

The first fall is, technically, his fault. He’s too close to the boards for his triple axel, so he can either crash into them when he lands or stop short and hit the ice. He loses points either way, but in the split second he has to think about it, the latter seems less embarrassing and less painful. As he stands back up, he quickly does the math in his head. Accounting for his average component scores and any potential tech panel biases, he really, really cannot afford any more screw ups. 

So, naturally, he falls again.

It’s the jolt this time — that fear that grips his entire body when he sees the ice so far below him, the memory of landing so incorrectly that he couldn’t walk for three weeks, couldn’t skate for even longer. And it’s all laced with worry for Eddie, who he knows is watching from the side, no ice on his ankle and still standing on it, trying to ignore something that’s only going to get worse. Maybe it’s projection, but he wouldn’t wish the misery he went through on anyone, not even Eddie when he couldn’t stand the sight of him, and especially not Eddie now.

He finishes by sheer force of will, his stubbornness and perfectionism overcoming his panic long enough to get him through his last step sequence and spins and to hit his final pose with a smile. The applause feels genuine, but he knows it’s not enough. It’s not even close to enough.

He finishes fifth in free skate, fourth overall, and he knows before he even sees the complete standings that he’s not going to the Final.

Luckily, since he finishes off podium, he doesn’t have any post-competition pressers or photo ops or reasons to slap on a fake smile for anyone. He goes back to his room and packs up so he has something to do with his hands. Maddie and May both text him about doing something with their last night in Japan, but the thought of going out and talking to his friends about their successes against his own failures kind of makes him want to throw up. Instead, he turns off his phone and finds a Japanese dub of Goonies playing on cable and burrows into bed in an attempt to get his brain to shut up for the first time all day.

When burrowing doesn’t work, he squishes himself into the armchair by the TV instead.

When that still doesn’t work, he paces.

That’s what he’s doing when Eddie gets back, looking worn out but still smiling, ribbon of his gold medal dangling out of his warm up jacket pocket. He waves goodbye to whoever is on the outside the door, but as soon as it’s closed, the act drops. Buck watches him sink against the door and lets out a long breath, grimacing as he tests out putting full weight on his right ankle.

Whatever anxiety Buck had managed to pace off (which really wasn’t a lot) comes back in full force, and he’s at Eddie’s side in three long steps.

“You’re hurt,” he says matter-of-factly.

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s just really sore, Buck, it’ll be better when I finally get to rest it.”

“No, it won’t be,” Buck snaps as he strides towards the ice bucket in the corner of the room to start filling up a bag. “You’ll think it’s getting better, and you’ll keep taking painkillers to take the edge off, but it’ll just keep getting worse, and you won’t even know it until your PT finally tells you it’s either two months off your feet to let it heal properly or you risk never being able to compete again.” He almost rips the bag in half as he finishes filling it with ice. He wraps it in a spare towel and shoves it at Eddie, who takes it gingerly before sitting on his bed and placing it on his ankle.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Eddie says. 

Buck shrugs. He might know a thing or two about trying to force healing too quickly and ignoring pain, about getting a cast off two weeks too early and almost having his bone heal crooked. But his issues are not what’s important right now. 

What’s important is Eddie.

“Look, can you just—” Buck sits on the bed next to Eddie, hovering over him like he can use his body to shield Eddie from anything else that might hurt him. “Just promise me you’ll get it checked when we get home, okay? Don’t put it off, don’t wait until after the Final—”

“Hey,” Eddie says, his hand coming to Buck’s shoulder and squeezing. “I’ll go, I promise. First appointment I can get.” Buck nods, and Eddie nods with him, thumb softly pressing against his pulse point. He doesn’t feel better, but he feels less buzzy, less like he’s dangling off the edge of a cliff by the tips of his fingers.

Buck nods again, decisively, before quickly squeezing Eddie’s wrist and standing. Eddie catches his hand before he makes it very far, his eyes filled with an intensity he hasn’t seen off the ice.

“I’m okay,” he says firmly, reassuringly. “We’re okay. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

You don’t know that, Buck thinks, but he just quirks a smile instead before heading to the bathroom.

He closes the door behind him, sinks to the floor, and tries to let any worse case scenarios push him back over the edge.

~~~~~~~~~~

[from: Eddie] It’s a stress fracture

[from: Eddie] They said if I had landed on it a few more times it would have been much worse

[from: Eddie] Glad I listened to you

Buck feels a weird sense of relief and unease as he reads Eddie’s texts. The door to Bobby’s office shuts behind him, the sounds of the rink muffled to a dull murmur. He’s not sure why he’s here — he hasn’t done anything to get him in trouble, and they literally had practice together an hour ago.

Bobby sits at his desk, hands folded in front of him. “So I’m not sure if you heard, but Eddie—”

“—has a stress fracture in his ankle, yeah, he just told me.”

Bobby smirks before continuing. “He’ll be out for the next six weeks at least, so he’ll be missing the Final.” He pauses for what feels like dramatic effect.

Buck scrunches his brow. “Right. But what does that have to do with me? I’m second alternate, that kid from Japan should be taking his spot.”

“And he is,” Bobby says. “But the skater from Canada who qualified also has to withdraw. I guess a bad case of the stomach flu has been going through their team. He won’t be back in shape by next weekend, which means—”

“I’m in,” Buck says quietly.

Bobby nods. “You’re in.”

Buck’s first reaction is to laugh. A high pitched, hysterical laugh because he really can’t believe this is happening. He screwed up, screwed up bad, but he’s getting a second chance, by some twist of fate or intervention from the universe or however the hell this happened. Bobby keeps talking about flights and practice schedules, and Buck hears him, but not really, because all he feels is relieved. Relieved that his Olympic chances maybe won’t be as squashed as he thought, and relieved that he gets a chance to prove himself again, to show that he can deliver and that he’s worthy.

That’s all he’s ever trying to do, really.

He leaves Bobby’s office practically floating, already texting Hen about when they can meet and tweaks he wants to make that will push his programs that much closer to perfect. He’s in the middle of calling Maddie when he gets a text back, pulling it up as she starts listing all the program improvements she has planned for her and Chim to work on since they didn’t make the Final themselves.

It’s not from Hen like he expects, it’s from Eddie — a picture of him laid up on a couch, foot in an air cast but still smiling at the camera.

[from: Eddie] Told you I’d take care of myself. I’ll be cheering you on from here

It hits him then, and he plummets back down to Earth at the reminder.

Eddie’s not coming with him.

He gets to try and keep his Olympic dreams alive, while Eddie stays home and hopes that he does enough to be healthy in time for Nationals.

A year ago, he’d be stupidly smug about a change of events like this. Now, it just makes his stomach twist and sympathy and sadness. He’ll be facing this competition alone — without his friend, his fiercest competition, his...Eddie — and no matter how much easier it might be for him to stay focused, alone is the last thing he wants to be.

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp This Is...Holiday Fic, Version 3.0

Hello, internet! It is December, and that means it is also time to regain our festive feelings through holiday-type fic. Of which I have written just...an absurd amount of. So, before we start slamming on some more keys with inevitable cliches and kissing (and the list of prompts I’m going to post later and maybe start writing tomorrow) here is a wholly self-indulgent, self-promotional list of the copious number of holiday stories I’ve written. Under the cut, because honestly it’s ridiculous. 

Multi Chapters

To Make the Season Bright Rating: M Words: 49,683 Chapters: 5

It's just one weekend. At Christmas. In New York. With everyone there. With Killian there. It's fine. Emma doesn't mind – he's always there and she wants him to be there and it'll be good. Great, even. Festive. She's looking forward to it. She just hopes she doesn't do something stupid. Like shout feelings in his face. That probably wouldn't be very festive.

The Gift Receipt Rating: M Words: 46,244 Chapters: 5

It genuinely makes sense in her head. After all, Mary Margaret is being Mary Margaret and Emma just needs five seconds to herself and for her friends to get off her back and saying she can’t talk to Killian Jones because she and Killian Jones once went on a very bad date is the perfect excuse. It’s also not true, but whatever. It works. Until Emma needs to bring someone home for Christmas. To get the entire town off her back. So, she comes up with another plan and another lie and pretending to get back together with a guy she was never actually with will make their inevitable break-up incredibly easy. It makes sense. Seriously. That is, of course, until Killian agrees and there’s far too much pie and radio hits of the 70s and opinions on animated Christmas classics. It gets a little more complicated after that.

Older Now, But Not Done Hoping Rating: T Words: 25,577 Chapters: 3

Killian Jones has lost his festive spirit. It's been forcibly removed by corporate America and private developers and how much alcohol the customers at his bar drink every night. Although, he supposes, that means he's making a profit, but that also feels a little Scrooge-esque and he doesn't have time for visits from ghosts. Because he's suddenly got a whole schedule in front of him, written out and planned by his roommate. To reclaim their mutual and collective festivity. Together. Oh, and he's in love with her. At Christmas. And all the time, really. This is going to be great.

It’s the Thought That Counts Rating: M Words: 27, 178 Chapters: 3

It was, in theory, a good idea. It was, in theory, an absolutely fantastic idea. Because there was still, sometimes, a crisis or two in Storybrooke and nothing would be more chaotic than trying to find a Christmas present on Main Street, while also trying to keep said Christmas present a secret. Ordering gifts on the internet makes sense. It's just a few clicks and online sales and the presents will be there in plenty of time for Christmas to be perfect. Emma and Killian are positive. Except then the presents don't show up and it's Christmas Eve and plan B isn't so much a plan as it is just a bit of pre-holiday desperation and the entire town knows what they're up to.

One Shots

The Best Laid Plains Rating: T Words: 4,040

Emma knows what she wants. And she remembers what the qualifications are. She just needs some help with them. Or: She and Killian once decided they'd only get married if one of them came out with an outlandish proposal.

Following the Recipe Rating: T Words: 3,802

Emma can't bake cookies. That doesn't stop her from engaging in cookie-baking competitions. At Christmas. And Killian is more than happy to help.

Grounded Rating: T Words: 6,064

Being stuck at the airport is the worst at normal times. At Christmas, it's at least ten-thousand times worse. Unless you manage to make friends with the vaguely attractive, frustratingly charming guy sitting next to you in the terminal.

Carol of the [Wedding] Bells Rating: T Words: 7,926

Going to Vegas with your friends for Christmas? Totally normal. Getting married to one of your friends while in Vegas at Christmas? Might take a bit more explaining. Especially when neither one of you can remember it.

More Than You Could Ever Know Rating: T Words: 5,040

It’s the perfect plan. So, she told the new guy at work that she was already married and couldn’t date him. Fine, no big deal. Emma has someone more than wiling to pretend to be her husband and a friend more than willing to do her pre-party hair. She’s certain everything will work out. The very last thing she expects is for Killian to be jealous. Because she might have picked the wrong Jones brother to play doting husband.

Once Again As in Olden Days Rating: T Words: 6,462

She’s absolutely freezing cold. It’s a dumb metaphor, one that only serves to make Emma even more pissed off than she already is. Because two hours ago it was summer. But a few more hours before that, she was also locked in a tower guarded by a fire-breathing dragon. And now she’s outside. With her kid. And a pirate that isn’t hers, explicitly, but keeps staring at her like he wouldn’t mind if he was. So maybe it’s not the worst. Maybe she’ll be able to get warm eventually.

Want Something That Will Last Forever Rating: T Words: 5,093

The weight in his jacket pocket is getting heavier. Burning a hole. A metaphorical one. Because a literal one would probably freak David out and David is already worried enough and Killian is a very good friend. Who is willing to help David plan his proposal to Mary Margaret. Even if it messes everything else up in the process.

A Fair, Even-Handed, Noble Adjustment of Things Rating: T Words: 9,267

Emma just wants to do something good. Give back. Maybe get a few bonus points. Metaphorically speaking. Not the last one. That defeats the purpose of all of this. But she can’t really think straight because he keeps humming and using nicknames and stealing all the flour. And she’d give up all the bonus points she’s, maybe, accumulated by, possibly, doing good if she could just remember what his name is. This is not going the way she planned. At all.

Heart to Heart and Hand in Hand Rating: T Words: 7,052

She was cold. She was tired. She did not want to be ice skating. She wasn’t really ice skating. She was just…kind of standing there – while getting yelled at by security guards and stared at by her boyfriend and they were being pushed off the ice. Not literally. And Emma knew she was being a Grinch or, maybe, just Max the Dog because she wasn’t in control enough to be a Grinch, but Killian wanted to go ice skating and well…fake it ‘til you make it festivity, right?

Kiss Her Once [For Me] Rating: T Words: 9,500

To say that the last year has been hectic would be the greatest understatement in the history of the modern world. Or, like, libel. In print, it’s libel. Because the last year has been filled with political promises and campaigns and far more press conferences than Emma realized were possible. And now, with Washington D.C. ahead of them, the only thing Emma really wants is to figure out how many boxes she’ll need to move all her stuff. That is, of course, until Killian finds her sitting in the middle of Regina’s hallway, a distinct lack of alcohol in her system, and the guarantee that he’s got a plan. For fun. Of the festive variety. It includes mistletoe.

Prompt: Santa!Con Rating: T Words: 2,444

Killian is very drunk. There are people dressed like Santa everywhere. And Emma isn't sure she heard the question correctly. She might be a little drunk too, honestly.

Prompt: Killian Wakes Up Without Any Blankets Rating: T Words: 2,444

He's freezing. Presumably because his wife — who he loves very much — has once again stolen all the blankets.

Tripping Over the Blue Line

A Few Days Off for Christmas Rating: T Words: 11,903

Matt's first Christmas at the brownstone means several things. Chinese food. Bad bread pudding. And unexpected guests.

A Chance of Snow Showers Rating: T Words: 3,372

Everything's a competition on this team. So no one is all that surprised when Killian agrees to race during family skate. Even with a baby strapped to his chest.

Dropping Gloves...In the Name of Festive Fashion Rating: T Words: 3,038

It’s probably one of the more ridiculous things any of them have ever done. It’s also one of the better ideas any of them has ever had – it’s festive and in the spirit and the fans will love it. And maybe it’s kind of fun because it ends with another win and some positive press before the break and Phillip’s jacket is really just…a work of fashion art.

All Knotted Up Rating: T Words: 2,188

He’s never actually done anything like this – brought a girl home for Christmas. No, not just a girl – Emma. Emma was coming to the brownstone for Christmas and the entire Vankald family would be there with traditions and bread pudding and there had to be gifts.

He needed to buy a gift. Or, at least, get a gift. And the list of people who wouldn’t laugh right in his face at the idea of Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, freaking out about that was growing more and more slim by the minute.

We’ll Take a Cup [Defense] Of Kindness Rating: M Words: 19,204 Chapters: 2

It's one night. New Year's Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that's just Emma. Because they've played a million games in two days, or it's at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she's going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot. He's good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It's New Year's Day and, yeah, sure it's freezing, but Killian hasn't actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he's a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that's fine. It's good. Or it'll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he's probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot.

First Line Center Rating: T Words: 9,508 Chapters: 2

She hadn’t read the invitation. It hadn’t changed in years, after all - a set of rules and expectations for a New Year’s party that they were all going to break anyway because the most traditional thing about this team was flouting tradition. So, Emma had mostly ignored it. Until. A shout and Killian refusing to wear a tie and something crashing in her kitchen, one kid worried about another and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something. There was a joke about fresh ice to be made, she was sure.

[ripley95]

Yay! I'm so excited you're doing a prompt list. How fun! Is it cheating to suggest three in one? Somehow first snow, hot chocolate, and ice-skating all go really well together in my mind. If it sounds like too much, though, just choose the one you like best. You know I love fShenko! Of course, if the prompt doesn't end up inspiring your muse or for any reason it doesn't work well, no pressure in not doing it. Anyway, I'm excited too where you go with possible prompts!

I don't think it's cheating at all to ask for three, and I appreciate the challenge! I already had an idea for first snowfall for f!Shenko, though, so I wasn't entirely able to incorporate the ice skating into that, but it's kind of in there. Thank you so much for sending the prompt! It meant so much to me to see it in my inbox!

-

Finding Peace

Pairing: F!Shepard/Kaidan Alenko

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: Shepard has seen snow before, but it's always been ground side while on missions. Having grown up in space, she's never had the chance to truly appreciate it until now.

Read it on AO3

-

Shepard awoke to her room which was still in a dark haze. There was a noticeable lack of warmth by her side, prompting her to rub her eyes and look over to Kaidan's side of the bed. He was already awake, standing by the window, pulling the curtains back ever so slightly in a way that she couldn't see what he was looking at. Light washed over his face as he was squinting out the window, implying that it must already be morning.

"Everything all right?" she asked as she adjusted herself to sit up in the bed.

He promptly let go of the curtain, taking away the only sliver of light, painting the room in a dull grey. It was still bright enough to make out the smile on his face as he turned to her.

"Yeah, everything's fine," he said with a smile as he came to sit on the bed. "I was just waiting for you to wake up."

"Oh, and why's that?" she asked playfully.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his grin still not fading.

She looked over to him and matched his smile. "I don't know. If you have to ask me if I trust you, that brings up a certain amount of suspicion."

He shook his head at her before he stared at her in wait for a serious response.

"Oh, come on, I think you know I trust you. The question is, why are you asking?"

"Well... It's the weekend. We don't have anywhere to be, and I uh... there's just something I want to show you."

The weekend. That was still a concept she was getting used to. Getting to go home at the end of the day working for Hackett ground side in Vancouver. Having an apartment to come home to with Kaidan. Actually having time off rather than being in a constant state of 'go' when they were still at war. It's exactly the kind of thing she'd always dreamed of but assumed she'd never get the chance to have. The thought of it put a gentle curve to her lips, feeling lucky to have Kaidan in her life.

"That sounds nice," she said, looking over to him again. "That still doesn't answer why I need to trust you, though."

"Well, let's just say my plan involves a certain level of unquestioning cooperation."

Shepard laughed as she stood up and moved to the closet to pull out some clothes. "Should I be worried?"

"No, definitely not," he said, moving over to the closet with her, making a point to pull out her warm jacket and a toque. "I know you're going to love it… but you're going to need to be blindfolded."

"What? Why?" she asked, as she looked at the clothes he handed her.

"Uh uh, no questions, remember," he said with a cocky grin.

She shook her head in amusement. "Mmm," she hummed in agreement. He had said as much. "All right. I'm all in," she said as she looked over at him, matching his enthusiasm.

"Glad to hear it. It'll be worth it. I promise."

---

"When you said I had to be blindfolded, I wasn't expecting it to be for so long," she said as she fiddled with the hem of the blindfold.

Kaidan looked over at her from the driver's side of the skycar. "Hey, don't take that off! It'll ruin the surprise."

Shepard promptly took her hand away from her face and looked over in his direction, despite not being able to see him.

"I wasn't really going to take it off, you know," she said with a laugh at how seriously he was taking it.

"I couldn't take the chance," he said with his own laugh at the situation. "Don't worry, though, we're almost there. It'll be worth the wait."

"Uh-huh. So, are you going to give me any hints?"

"And ruin the surprise when we're so close?"

Shepard laughed at that. "What if I had a guess already. You didn't exactly leave a lot up to the imagination handing me a warm jacket and hat."

Kaidan huffed out a laugh at that, himself. "I suppose you're not wrong there, but you're about to find out for yourself soon enough. We're already here."

Shepard felt the skycar slow down and land gently. She heard Kaidan turn off the engine.

"I'm going to have to ask one more thing of you first, though."

"Uh oh, what now?" Shepard asked with a smile.

"You need to put on these earmuffs too."

"Seriously?" she said, looking over in his direction again.

"Yes, seriously. Trust me, I have a reason for all this. As soon as we get out, you'll only have to walk a few feet before you can take everything off."

"Everything, you say?" Shepard asked, waggling her covered eyebrows in his general direction.

Kaidan snorted. "You know I'd never oppose that, but I don't think I'd recommend it in this particular scenario. Here," he said as Shepard could hear him leaning over from the rustling of his clothes. "I'm going to put these on you, and then I'll come to help you out of the car."

Shepard felt the earmuffs being placed over her ears. Everything was muffled now, but she heard Kaidan's door open and close behind him before she heard her own door open. She felt for the hand that Kaidan was offering and he helped pull her out of the car. There was an immediate and unmistakable bite of coldness in the air. They only walked a short distance before Kaidan stopped.

"Okay, you can take them off," Kaidan said as he let go of her arm.

She pulled off the earmuffs and her blindfold all at once and readjusted her toque quickly as she was met with a beautiful sight. Large snowflakes were falling all around her, if you could even call them snowflakes anymore. They were so big, they almost looked more like small clumps of snow, yet still entirely light and airy. She was surrounded by forest, freshly blanketed in a soft coat of it. The ground was absolutely covered and reached halfway up her calf. There was a pond in front of her that was steaming from the sharp temperature difference, the snowflakes melting away quickly as they touched the water. The absence of sound was striking, especially since living on starships her whole life and even in the city. She'd become accustomed to a constant source of white noise. But now, there was a serene calmness she'd never experienced before in her life. It was so quiet she could hear the flakes powdering the ground. The only way she could describe it was surreal.

This whole time, she'd been looking out at the scenery, barely even noticing Kaidan beside her. She looked over to him, seeing that this entire time, he'd been looking at her in wonder. He finally looked out at the forest, prompting her to look over it again.

"Do you feel it?" he asked, his voice hushed and gentle. "The peacefulness? The silence?"

"Yeah," she said, matching his gentle tone. "This is beautiful, Kaidan."

He smiled as he looked behind him. "Here, why don't we sit?"

She looked behind them to see a large log cabin with a deck and rustic, wooden patio furniture. He sat down on a bench, prompting her to sit beside him. She hadn't even noticed the two thermoses in his hands before now. He poured out some hot liquid in a cup and handed it to her. She smelled it and savoured the chocolatey aroma and warmth before taking a sip. Kaidan poured his own cup before he started talking.

"I know you've seen snow before. We were on Noveria together, after all, so I knew this wasn't exactly a brand new experience for you. But do you remember what you said when we were in port there, waiting for authorization to get in?"

"You mean before we were attacked?"

"Yeah. You were silent for a moment, looking out past the Normandy. It was the first time you told me about growing up in space. You said you never got the chance to appreciate snow before. The only time you'd ever seen it was ground side in the middle of missions, but you never got to savour it. You always thought it looked pretty from the vids on the extranet."

"Yeah, I remember that," she said with an amused laugh. "I joked about possibly getting some shore leave there if we finished the mission quickly enough."

Kaidan nodded. "Yeah. I remember that too. I think about that a lot, actually. I don't think Noveria's the best place to experience snow, mind you. The constant blizzards, the insanely cold temperatures and all that, but the closer you and I got after that, the more I thought, "I can't wait to take her back home with me." Winters in BC were some of my favourite memories growing up. The snow is special, but there's nothing quite like the first snowfall of the season.  It always feels like it puts the world to a halt the way it insulates against the noise. I've never felt more at peace than I have the first time it snows. Even though you were joking on Noveria, I always sensed a lot of sincerity there too. Ever since you said that, I've imagined a time that I could share this with you. It's not every day you get to witness someone experience that for the first time."

She looked at him genuinely, feeling as though she could cry for how sentimental it was. He was right. She'd always wanted a chance to admire the snow in peace. To feel it in her hands, to catch some on her tongue as it fell from the sky. To not need to be in an environmentally controlled suit to be able to withstand the harsh temperatures. It had always been a dream of hers, but she'd never gotten the chance. It was even more than she ever expected it to be. She laced her fingers in his and looked at him. "It's not every day you find someone thoughtful enough to want to share that with them."

Kaidan unlaced his fingers from hers and wrapped his arm around her. "No, it's really not," he agreed. "Was it worth all the trouble I put you through?"

She smiled at him gently. "That wasn't any trouble, Kaidan, but... it was definitely worth it," she said as she took a sip of her hot chocolate, looking out over the forest and the dense flakes falling. She could imagine them making a tradition out of this. Rushing up to the woods to watch the first snowfall, cuddling under a blanket and sipping hot chocolate. Next year, she'd have to watch Kaidan's face light up as they stepped into the snow, the same way he got to watch her this time. She could imagine his sense of wonder and calmness. "I think this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

He held her tighter towards him, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"We've got some free time coming up over the holidays. What do you say to coming back here?"

"I think I could be convinced," she said as she sat up, flashing him a grin.

He smiled back at her. "Good. Mom reserved this cabin all winter for the family to use. We just have to make sure to ask to use it for a certain time. That pond's going to freeze over soon enough. I figure I can teach you how to ice skate."

Shepard let out a roar of laughter. "Oh, I don't know about that. You've seen me dance. I don't think I could get away with ice skating."

"Hmm, good point," Kaidan said as he took a sip of his hot chocolate. Shepard elbowed him in the side and he almost spat out his drink. "What? You're the one who said it, not me," he said with a laugh.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully. "Listen, I'd say we're about on par with the dancing skills, so you might want to shut it," she said, her smile returning.

"All the more reason we could still give it a shot. I'm not half bad at skating. Maybe you'll be better at it than you think. I won't pressure you, though. Whatever you're up for."

"And what if I fall and hurt my hip or something?"

"Then I'll nurse you back to health in front of the fire," he said, leaning in closer to her and grazing her lips gently in a kiss. "There's plenty of other things we could try. Skiing, sledding, snowball fights, you name it. I honestly don't care what we do, just that we're together."

That was a sentiment she knew well. "In that case, I'm up for anything."

[jay-cult]

Static and Stars: Episode 1 - Jay Day

Index

Jay and Nya haven’t been on a date in like... ever. So when they finally do go out on their own, some unexpected memories catch up with them.

AUTHOR’S NOTES:   Hey guys! At long last, S&S continues. I hope it hypes you up just like it does me! I was planning this for OC Day when I realized that it actually didn’t have any of my OCs in it (yet) so I’m happy to throw it out now.   This episode is quite guiltily Jaya-centered but PLEASE understand that it will be the only one. I laid out my plan for this fan season and I liked it, so I’m following through with having it kick off like this. This is a Jay fan season. Not a Jaya fan season. Thank you!

-

  A patronizing BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! rang out beside Jay.

  He groaned and sat up, hair messily flying all over his face. He slammed his hand onto where the sound was coming from, but found he slapped the smooth surface of his phone. He let out another grunt while the alarm was still judging him.

  He shot out a small current through his fingertips and the beeping stopped. Right… he forgot. They weren’t in the Bounty anymore.

  Jay climbed out of his sleeping bag and looked to his right, where Kai, who had just awoken, was trying to quickly rearrange his bed hair. Further past him, Cole was still sound asleep.

  Kai noticed that he was still as a rock and, mid-hair-fixation, kicked him hard.

  “Ow! Dad! Fine, I’ll get ready for dance practice-“ Cole jerked awake and then looked at Kai scorningly.

  “This sucks,” Kai groaned. He plunged his arms into his “hygiene” kit and pulled out a hairbrush, some cologne, and a bit of blush fell out.

  Jay stood up (while making sure his plushie stayed safely tucked in his sleeping bag) and smiled. “Aw come on guys, it’s not that bad!” He said, stretching.

  “Whatever you say,” Cole sighed, tying his hair up in a bun.

  In full pajamas, Jay exited the tent. Outside it was full sunlight, with shadows of leaves dappling the ground. He gazed at Ninjago City in the distance; it looked so much quieter from the outskirts.

  Zane was already outside making a meal for breakfast. He slept outside. Jay didn’t see the appeal, but he said that it was better for him to be out with the stars and one with the (mild) wilderness.

  “Good morning, Jay.” He smiled with ease. “You should really wash those gloves.”

  He took a look at his hands. “Funny coming from you, ya barely change your clothes,” he playfully argued, knowing already it was a useless excuse. Zane sat there in full gi wear and looked up.

  “I do not have the rather disgusting human body which pollutes cloth,” he responded simply.

  “Any updates on how the monastery is going?” Jay asked, changing the subject.

  “Indeed!” He flipped a pancake with a spatula. There was a whole contraption set up so that Zane could do his thing, even outside. “I have been notified that it is going smoothly.”

  Jay nodded. He sat on a cushioned log. “I’m still so glad it’s over.”

  “The First Realm was certainly a tiring event.”

  “Yeah, and Garmadon… that fight was insane, huh?” Jay scratched his head. He was grateful that even with this makeshift living situation, they could rest.

  “You don’t even know the half of it.”

  The two ninja looked up. Nya was strutting toward them, tying up her hair casually. Unlike Jay, she had already gotten dressed.

  “Nya!” Jay brightened up, even more energized from the sight of his girlfriend. The morning sun made her look quite phenomenal. She sat down by him, very close, physically. Zane’s (literal) inner timer dinged, and he stood up. “Breakfast is ready!”

  At that moment both Kai and Cole rushed out of the tent, still very unready. Kai’s hair was half-done, his arm through just one sleeve of his jacket, and he was still pulling up his pants. Cole had yet to do much. He was just running out with his pajama pants on, and… that was it.

  “What were you guys doing?” Jay asked.

  “Shut up,” Kai said immediately, his eyes suddenly very focused on the pancakes that were now out and ready.

  They all sat in their eating area on the cushioned logs in their circle beside Zane’s cooking tools and contraptions. It was a very average day, at least, for one where they had to camp together without a strong shelter and where they had nobody to fight anymore. But there were obviously some things missing.

  Nya turned to Jay. “Well,” she shrugged, “Lloyd and Wu are off on their things.”

  “As they have been for a while, making their own camp in Misako’s space,” Kai interjected, eyes narrowed. “Meanwhile we have to make it out here, in the wild, the cold-”

  She ignored him. “And we have nothing going on, finally. So.. well… we haven’t really done much recently. And you were off in the realm for…. A while.”

  Jay swallowed a chunk of bacon. “Right! How long exactly has it been since we’ve done something, just you and me, that didn’t involve snake venom or the fate of the world?”

  She looked at her paper plate of food, thinking. “Like. Never?”

  “Yeah.” He chewed more, a bit unbelieving. They’d only ever done fun things with at least one person from the team or when a villain was on their tail. Or if it was work or training.

  “We have never really had a normal date, like, at all, have we?” She looked straight at him, making her point.

  “Okay, today is perfect!” Jay finished the last of his meal happily.

  “Alright, you guys, calm down,” Kai stood up, smirking. “I know that must mean you’re all very new to this, so if you’d like to ask the master-”

  And then Cole just straight up picked Kai up. He just yoinked him from off the ground and slung him over his shoulder. He turned toward the pair, genuinely smiling. “Hahah, he’s one to talk. Come on buddy.” As he carried him back to the tent, Kai let out yells of protest, but it was nothing against Cole’s strong hold.

  Zane smiled. “You enjoyed your meal, I hope?”

  “Breakfast was great, Zane,” Nya commented, laughing.

  “I guess this means we’ll finally have a day all to ourselves,” Jay winked, standing up. “I’ll devote this day to being Nya Day.”

  She winked back. “And I, Jay Day.”

  “Let me just go put on my clothes first.”

 -

  The wind of the mountains blew fresh through the couple’s hair. Jay had dug through his bag to try and salvage what he could of the nicest clothes in there and had just barely scraped out a clean look. He’d stepped back outside, surprised to find Nya in a brand new, somewhat formal outfit.

    “Oh,” she had said, reddening a bit. “Maybe I should go get that other stuff back on.”

    “No! No,” he’d interjected immediately. “You look really nice.”

    Now they were climbing down the rocky side of a steep mountain that led down to Ninjago City from their camp. Or, well, they weren’t exactly- their hybrid elemental dragon guided them down slowly, walking so as to not be easily detected.

    “Where are we going?” Jay asked from his spot behind Nya, who had the reins.

    She glanced at her boyfriend quickly with a sly smile. “You’ll see.”

    Jay grinned and kept his silence for a little while. But inside his thoughts were racing quite a bit. He felt tense and nervous- and not because of the date. It was all so familiar. Too familiar. Sitting behind Nya, holding onto her... the feeling of the dragon’s spine beneath him and the thrum, thrum of what was the dragon walking but what his brain turned into the panicked beat of wings. His thoughts wandered through that old experience and he wanted it to stop. But he decided not to say anything.

    At the edge of the city they, to Jay’s relief, put away the use of their dragon and grabbed a ride from a surprisingly mellow fan who was happy to provide service to the “folks who’d saved the city’s ass more than once.” Nya whispered the destination into his ear and he chuckled. “Well y’all enjoy your time, n’.”

    “Shut your eyes, boltbrain,” Nya pleaded, trying to hold back a laugh.

    “I wanna see, though,” Jay whined with a smile, trying to swat her hands away. She was reaching from her spot in the passenger seat of the car.

    He (eventually) complied and they stepped out onto what felt like some concrete. Jay heard the car drive away.

    “Okay,” Nya giggled, sounding slightly embarrassed. “You can look.”

    Light flew into his eyes as he shot them open. He blinked a few times and observed the building in front of him. It was a fairly average-looking concrete building on the outside, but the windows were plastered with 80s-themed patterns, stickers, and paint. He gazed up at the sign that marked the building, which read in bright neon letters, “Ninjago Roller Rink.”

    He turned to his girlfriend with a shy smirk. “Nya, what is this?”

    “Okay, okay, so. It looks a bit run down. But I remember that you were into roller skating as a kid. So I just thought-“

    He pulled her into a tight hug, his excitement growing. “This is awesome! Let’s go!”

    He tried to rush to the door, but Nya got there first and held it open for him. “Ladies first,” she said.

    “Ha-ha,” he joked, unable to hide his grin. They stepped confidently into the building.

    The floor, cheap carpet with an 80s pattern, stretched out beneath them. There were party tables all around them, broken up by counters on the side of the right wall selling the snacks and roller blades. And on their left down a ramp, in all its glory, was the large wooden rink with a disco ball hanging above it. Popular 80s music played but it was barely heard among the conversations of the many people in the building.

    The couple got stares as they entered, but they were too excited to care too much. They rented their skates and set off towards the rink.

    They stepped out onto the floor and the rink suddenly cleared. Bunches of people crowded around the edges to watch two ninja in fancy clothes do normal people stuff.

    While Jay eased on Nya stepped on immediately, and almost fell to the floor but grabbed hold of the edge just in time. She looked surprised.

    “You’ve never done this before, huh?” Jay questioned, sympathetic.

    She shook her head, blushing. “I didn’t know it was that difficult.”

    “Well it’s not, once you learn. Here, let me show you.” He held out his hand.

    She grunted but took hold of it.

    A scene flashed in Jay’s brain. He was forced to remember. The rooftops of the tall, wide building of the city stretched before him, and he felt a feeling of dread, the intrusive thought that this was where it started. He dropped her hand suddenly.

    “Jay? Are you okay?” Nya asked, worried.

    He took her hand again quickly. “Yeah,” he lied. “Just a little nervous, I guess.”

    He took her along the walls of the rink, guiding her with his words. But all the while, he was wondering what had happened. It’s not like it was the first time they’d held hands, of course. So why get so heavily reminded of that now? He was fooling himself. He knew the answer. None of the other ninja were around. Just like… he shook his head. No, stop Jay, you’re literally on a date, he told himself.

    They were eventually off of the walls together, rolling slowly and steadily around the rink. Since it was empty, there was no need to go in the required circles, so they freely went where was best.

    “Alright,” he said gently. “I’m gonna let go now.”

    She looked at him, panicked. “Wait! Don’t!”

    Jay gave her a serious look. “I’m going to, okay? Are you ready?”

    She paused for a second and then nodded.

    “You sure?”

    She nodded again.

    “Go!”

    With a gasp from the crowds, they let go together and Nya rolled ahead. She picked up her pace as they cheered, feeling confident, and then promptly lost her balance and fell down in a tangle of girl, skates and kimono.

    “Nya!”

    She punched the ground. “This is never going to work!”

    Jay frowned. “Don’t say that, you’re doing real good! Look,” he brightened up a bit, “next time I’ll wait until you really want to do it yourself.”

    Reluctantly, she nodded, and took his outstretched hand again. As he pulled her up the music turned to a certain kind of song. An incredibly sappy, incredibly overly fitting song.

    “Oh.” As Jay scratched the back of his head, getting all red, the crowds murmured in wondrous anticipation. He looked around and saw the guy behind the counter put his phone down with a wink. “I guess this isn’t really what you expected,” he told her nervously.

    “It’s cool,” she shrugged, smiling. “Besides, I wanna show you off.”

    He chuckled. “I wanna show me off, too.”

    And then it became perfect.

    Nya picked up the skating incredibly quickly and was able to do very well by herself after just a few seconds. They rejoined at certain points and laughed. When he caught gazes from the crowd, Jay did some age-old skating tricks from way back, rousing several cheers. He always looked back at Nya wherever she was, who was always sporting a proud smile. It was foolish. It was childish. It was fantastic.

    But their finish wasn’t as strong at all.

    They met up towards the end of the song and started to feel something deep in the memories of their bones. Deep in their roller dance, they didn’t think and posed in a way they’d done before- in a fight. Like an instinct of feel-good thrill, they posed, and Jay suddenly gripped his head and fell to the floor.

    It was dark and they were on top of a shining tower. Maybe they might’ve been able to hear the sounds of the black ocean, just maybe, if not for the cries and shouts of leader-blinded, bloodthirsty pirates. They were back to back, their swords drawn, fighting off the swarms of their enemies that no longer even existed within their realm. Jay thought of the lighthouse and this time he couldn’t stop.

    “Jay!” Nya gasped, and the crowd let out shouts of concern. He was brought back to reality with their noise- somehow not hers. He was breathing heavily, still on the dirty wooden floor.

    “I can’t…” he was almost okay when the music switched to something that bored into his brain. He’d never heard it before but it was saying things that couldn’t be unheard.

    “We’re alone together, in a familiar place.”

    He couldn’t stand it.

    “Waves beat upon the rocks and moonbeams shine upon your face.”

    It was pop and terrible but it still existed, and as Jay continued to fall in and out of reality he felt himself being hoisted from the floor by someone strong. “Let’s get you some water… ‘SM, this music… c’mon, Jay…”

    Nya was leading him out of the rink and back onto the carpet, and in her hold he found himself back in the roller rink’s building- but not completely. She sat him down at one of the tables and left him staring at the ground for a moment. When she returned she put an opened bottle of chilled water right in front of him, and wearily, he took a few sips.

    A teenage girl from the crowds, who were now mostly filtering back onto the roller rink, shuffled up to them shyly. “Is the blue ninja okay?” She asked.

    “Yes,” Nya snapped, which quickly sent the girl scuttling away.

    “Better?” She asked, her voice edged with worry. Jay nodded. She sighed, smiling in relief. “That’s good.”

    “Oh, but I ruined it…” he groaned, staring at the top of the table.

    “Ruined what?” She asked, confused.

    “Our date…”

    Nya gave his hair a ruffle. “No ya didn’t. Let’s go talk about this over some lunch.”

-

    Twenty minutes later they were ordering their favorite dishes from Chen’s Noodle House. They sat along the edge of the kitchen and a familiar face decided to pop into their conversation.

    “I think I know what happened,” Nya answered after said familiar face asked.

    “Oh, what then?” Pushed Skylor, leaning in.

    “I just can’t get it out of my brain. Now that we decided to do something on our own, I guess,” Jay frowned, feeling absolutely terrible.

    “What?”

    “It’s difficult to explain,” Nya said quickly, before Skylor delved too deep into speculation.

    The redhead left for a brief moment to grab their food, and returned looking excited for a tale.

    Jay picked around at his noodles. “You’re not gonna believe me, but it’s a different timeline. That only Nya and I remember, I think. It involves a lot of evil pirates, and everyone being trapped in a sword, and Ninjago being in the sky. You were part of my ninja replacements,” Skylor gave him a weird look as he was mid sentence, “and Nya even…”

    He paused and dropped his chopsticks back in the tub. Nya stopped eating suddenly, and looked down, feeling sick.

    “Nya what?”

    “Nothing important,” Nya said, trying to force another bite of food into her mouth.

    “Well, hm,” said Skylor, looking a little put off, “sounds like you guys need to somehow sort this out.”

    “Yeah,” Jay stared at his food. “I know. You’re right. We have to stop pretending like it never happened. We have to think about it. Sort out all the lost… stuff from it.” He reached into a pocket to pull out his wallet, but Nya was there first, holding her card out to Skylor with a smile.

    She shook her head. “Today’s on me, ya crazy lovebirds. I just hope things are okay for you from now on.”

“Thanks,” said Jay with an exasperated sigh. “You’re a life-saver, Skylor.”

    “Well, where do we start, then?” Nya asked when Skylor left them, looking at Jay with some nervousness.

    He narrowed his eyes and gave one of his eyes a rub. “The lighthouse.”

[iphoenixrising]

Check, Please WIP: Part 1-4

AHL!Bitty

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

Notes: 

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

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

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

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

** Pro

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

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

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

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

Off the ice...was a different story. 

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

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

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

But, but!

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

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

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

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

Until this little shit came along.

** 1

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

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

Jack somehow started being his best friend without even trying. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course you did–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, Jack. Okay.”

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

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

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

** 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

And my, how wrong he was about all that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not going to happen, bud.”)

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

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

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

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

“O-Oh!”

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

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

(“Good Lord, Jack, scoot over!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh? Don’t be so sure, Mister.”)

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

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

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

“Good thing you’re stuck at Samwell.”

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

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

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

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

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

** 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, now that’s life, ain’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God, he’s so cute, Zimms.”

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

Or he might of just dreamed that part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he probably imagined all that, too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack blinks and Bitty groans softly.

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

“Rebels?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

But the man’s fish oven mitt is–

Wait for it

– named Fish.

Because Kent is a master at naming things, obviously.

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

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

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

“Of course I am, Kent. It is true.”

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

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

(When hell freezes over.)

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

*

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

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

Bitty sighs in unmitigated relief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

** 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh does that hit Jack right in the heart. 

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

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

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

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

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

At the time, no. No, he wasn’t. 

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

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

Kenny…

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh. Oh my.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. Then, we’re all fine, right?”

Another nod and a squeeze to his hips.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry,” is totally unrepentant, the ass.

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

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

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

“Bits?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why of course we are.”

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

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

“Yeah. Thanks, Bits.”

“You’re welcome, Kent.”

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

“Bits?”

Mmhm. There is it. “Yes, Kent?”

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

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

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

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

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

 **

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

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

“So–”

He gets twin wait a minute fingers. 

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

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

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

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

Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is a good opportunity, Bits.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That offer is for one season, though.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what, bud?” 

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

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

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

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

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

 ** 

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

Really, it’s not. 

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

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

Because of Jack.

Because Jack’s leaving.

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

Something to think about another day.

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

** 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

It does not go away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still, I want to be here for you.”

“Oh, honey. I appreciate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And really, God Bless Canada. 

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

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

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

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

“Eh, not necessary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

The next two games are utterly brutal. 

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

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

Lord, they made it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

“O-oh!”

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

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

(It’s tough, but you’re tougher.)

“I want to play hockey, Mr. McLean.”

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

“Junior.” 

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

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

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

“Y-yes, Daddy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No fair, B. I want to watch!”

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

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

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

“Trying to kill me before practice?”

“Captain’s prerogative, babe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kenny?”

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

**

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

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

**

The check is absolutely brutal. 

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

But not this damn time. Oh hell no. 

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

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

**

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

This is it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Homophobic prick!” One of his boys shouts.

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

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

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

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

**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

**

Shitty is naked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ever.

Anything else is wishful thinking.

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

**

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

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

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

Or break out the fire extinguisher.

Either way.

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

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

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

[carolinahurricanesstan]

Dougie Hamilton x reader

It had been three months since you graduated from college. Unsure if it was because of that or because you were quickly approaching your 25th birthday, but you were spiraling. Not gonna lie, college was freaking hard and honestly, you were unsure of what you wanted to do but if something didn’t get you out of the house soon, you were going to go insane.

You had applied to a few different marketing positions, but nothing had materialized yet and you were frustrated. 

You decided to go and grab lunch with your best friend, (y/bf/n) one HOT September Friday and as you sat down at your favorite downtown Raleigh restaurant, your phone rang, but the number was not one that you recognized. It was a local number so you decided to answer it, hoping that it was one of the many jobs you had applied to. 

“Hi! Is this (y/n)?”

“Yes, it is!”

“Hi, (y/n)! I hope you’re doing well today! This is Shannon, head of marketing here for the Carolina Hurricanes. I’m calling in regards to your extremely impressive resume. We would absolutely love to set up an interview with you to see if you would be a good fit for our team. Are you free this week sometime to come in and chat?”

You were speechless. This was finally your opportunity. Quickly, you regained your composure and were able to choke out,

“Absolutely! I’m free first thing Monday morning! What time works best for you?”

“Let’s say 9 am? You can meet me at the North entrance of PNC.”

“That sounds fantastic. I will see you Monday morning at 9 am, Shannon! Thank you so much!”

“See you then, (y/n)! Have a great weekend!”

You smile at your friend across the table and she looks back at you with a confused look on her face.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“Head of marketing for the Canes. I have an interview for a position on their marketing team on Monday!” You were beaming.

“Holy SHIT, dude! That’s awesome! You’ve been waiting for something like this!” 

\\\

Monday snuck up on you. You decided to go out on Saturday night for drinks with your closest friends to celebrate your pending job interview and spent Sunday recovering from that. You were excited for sure, but now the nerves began to set in. You slept like shit, tossing and turning all night. You woke up around 7 am, groggy as all. You knew that you were really great at interviews, but looking in the mirror, you knew that you needed some work to feel as confident outside as you were inside. You drug yourself to the shower, turning on the almost-scalding water. After getting out, feeling a lot less groggy, you take extra time getting ready, being very meticulous with each step. You curl your hair into loose waves and apply your normal, natural makeup: a little eyebrow, a little mascara, and that’s it. 

You step back into your room, putting on the outfit that you picked out a few days before. A super flattering pair of slim fit, black ankle pants, a more casual shirt, layered with a modern blazer. You slide on a pair of ankle boots and stop at the full length mirror propped up in the corner of your bedroom. 

Pleased with how you looked, you grab your keys and head out the door. You lived 10 minutes away from the arena, so you jump in your car and turn some music on to hype you up before pulling out of your driveway and eventually onto 40.

You pull into PNC arena, familiar because of the many events you’ve attended, you go directly towards the north entrance. You quickly park and begin heading towards to door, only to be greeted by one of the friendliest faces you’ve ever seen. 

“Hey! You must you (y/n)!! I’m Shannon!! So nice to put a face with the name!”

You quickly walked towards her, shaking her hand. “Likewise! So nice to finally meet you!”

You two begin walking inside of the building, she starts: “So, nothing to be nervous about! We loved your resume and just wanted to familiarize you with our organization before we officially offered you the job.”

You two arrived in what appeared to be the offices for the staff and you were mesmerized. Hockey in Raleigh hadn’t been much of a thing to write home about until two years prior, when they qualified for the Stanley Cup Playoffs for the first time in a while. You’d been to a few games, but to be honest, you didn’t know a whole lot about the team. You knew about hockey because your college had a team, but you never really cared about who the players were.

Shannon continued to talk and fill you in on the history of the team, who the leadership was, and chat about the upcoming season. You were engrossed in every word she said. She asked a few questions about you, seeming to really like your answers. The atmosphere here was incredible, everyone was buzzing with excitement, which in turn, made you excited. While invigorating, everyone was extremely friendly and laid back, including Shannon.

Finally, your tour came to a stop as Shannon led you into a conference room. She had some paperwork laid out on the table as she took a seat and gestured for you to sit across from her. As you sat, she began talking.

“I have been given pretty open freedom to do whatever I need to do to make this marketing team the best in the NHL. I do not beat around the bush at all and so, I’d like to formally offer you this position on our marketing team. I think that you could really bring a lot of incredible energy and ideas to our team and to Carolina in general and we would love to have you.”

Your smile took up your entire face. 

“You guys seem like an amazing group of people to work with and I would be totally honored to accept.”

She smiled back at me, “Awesome!! Welcome to the team, (y/n)! Let’s go meet the boys and then, we’ll come back and fill out this paperwork!”

///

Shannon leads you down a hallway, chatting you up the entire way. You’re halfway present, nodding along and smiling at what she’s telling you about the team, but your excitement is making it hard to focus on anything at all.

Finally, you walk out of the hallway into one of the openings leading to the rink. You recognize that you’re now beside the bench. She informs you that the guys are doing their morning skate. She motions a man over and introduces you to him. His name is Rod, the head coach. He shakes your hand, firmly, and welcomes you to the team. He seems friendly and warm, just like everyone else you’ve met, but you can also sense that he does not handle nonsense, at all.

Shannon asks him to bring the boys over for them to meet you as well. This terrified you a little, because as you’re scanning, you realize that these are not busted up hockey jocks, missing teeth, but these are young looking guys that are intimidatingly handsome. As she introduces you to the guys, you become a little self-conscious as a lot of them come to shake your hand, each giving you his name as he does. 

“(y/n) will be working specifically with creating our social media content and maintaining it. She’ll be doing an array of things in regards to working with you, including photographing and helping with video work. Her accomplishments are super impressive and we are so excited she’s decided to be apart of our organization.”

The guys all clap, a few even cheer and yell, for you as Shannon finishes up her announcement regarding you. You don’t typically blush, but as you’re standing there, talking to Shannon, you can feel it beginning to rise up your neck as you realize some of the guys are studying you as they skate back out.

Shannon sits on the empty bench and motions for you to join her as she begins telling you how she got started with the Hurricanes a few years back. You’re listening along, scanning over each guy on the ice. One in particular catches your eye and you realize it’s one of the same ones you caught looking at you earlier when Shannon was introducing you to everyone. 

He was tall. Like, really tall. You were only 5′3, so it didn’t take a lot for someone to be taller than you, but he was probably the tallest on the ice. You realize that you hadn’t been introduced to him when you met a majority of the other guys,

Shannon’s phone began to ring and she excused herself, leaving you alone for a minute to continue watching from the bench.

You continued to watch this tall man. He took his helmet off momentarily to expose his blonde hair. You also noticed his beard was gingery and he had probably the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Definitely your type. He skated over towards the bench to retrieve a gatorade and you felt your body stiffen a little when you realized he had caught you studying him.

As he got closer to the bench, he plopped down on it, breathing heavily from the drills he had just run and drinking from one of the bottles. You knew that you were blushing now. How could you not? He was freaking handsome. You avoided looking at him by pulling out your phone, but you could feel his gaze.

He swiftly put himself back over the wall, but not before stopping on the ice directly in front of you, causing you to look up at him. He smiled and stuck his hand out. He cleared his throat and said, “Hey, (y/n). I just wanted to introduce myself after you got bombarded by the rest of the guys. I’m Dougie.” 

His voice startled you a little. It was deep, with a slight rasp, and smooth as butter. Trying to pull yourself together, you shook his hand and smiled back at him. God, he was handsome. “It’s so nice to meet you,” you managed to get out. 

He held onto your hand a bit longer than a normal person would, holding eye contact with you, causing you to giggle and divert your eyes. He finally let go and added, “I should probably get back to morning skate before Roddy gets me. I’m looking forward to seeing you around, (y/n).” He smiles at you again before skating off to rejoin his teammates.

You finally release the breath it feels like you’ve been holding onto for an hour and look out at the ice one more time, catching eye contact with Dougie again, finding him smiling at you before running the drill he was apart of. 

Shannon finally ends her call and comes back to where you are, smiling at you. “You ready to go fill out your paperwork?”

///

Your first official day was a few days after you’d been hired. You knew that the season didn’t start for a few weeks and Shannon informed you that this was a big time for the marketing team to push out a lot of content to get the fans excited about the coming season. Fan attendance was up the last two years, but they really wanted to continue pushing out content that helped them get to know the players and feel connected with all of the boys. 

You guys had brainstormed a ton of new video ideas for the youtube channel, a few new promo shoots to get done, photo and video, and now the ideas just needed to be executed.

In the weeks leading up to the beginning of the season, you had been trusted to take the lead on a few of the different video projects and you were hooked. You loved being around the guys. They were freaking hilarious and so fun to be around. The repertoire they had with each other was dynamic and there was no denying that they all cared about each other. 

There had been a few moments during filming videos and photoshoots that you and Dougie had exchanged. Glances, short, friendly conversations. You were trying to remain professional and keep work and private life separate, but it was hard to do here. This was one of the most laid back environments you’d ever been in and you loved being able to open up and be yourself.

On the way to your car after work that day, you felt your phone buzz in your hand. You waited until you sat down in your car to unlock it and see a text from an unfamiliar number.

“You have been brilliant the last few days. It’s incredible to see you do what you’re so passionate about. Can’t wait to see you at the game this week. - DH”

Ah, Dougie. You smiled down at your phone for a minute before responding. He was so damn good looking and you admit, you’d caught yourself staring a little too long or scanning him up and down, longing to just reach out and touch him. 

“You’re too kind. See you then. ;)” 

You debated leaving the winky face off, but decided to leave it. You were feeling a little more adventurous than usual.

//

Before you knew it, the season was starting. You were buzzing because you got to photograph the game from beside the bench. The arena filled up quickly and you got to witness your first game as a staff member. The crowd was insanely loud. You spent the first two periods in awe, snapping photos during play, letting yourself get sucked in. There were a few times that you felt a few eyes on you from the bench, but you assumed you were being ridiculous. Once, you happened to glance over to catch a particular blondie watching you before he looked away. 

You grinned at the thought of Dougie being embarrassed that you caught him watching you, especially since you’d been watching him for most of the game. 

Towards the end of the third, the Canes were up two points with 2 minutes left in the period. Dougie came off of a shift and sat at the end of the bench, right beside where you were. He tapped your leg with his stick and smiled over at you. You smiled back at him. God, you hadn’t looked at him that close in person in a while. You guys had been so busy prepping everything for this night that you had been running around like a mad woman.

You both turned your attention back to the game as the clock wound down to zero. Dougie flashed a smiled at you as he and the other guys went out onto the ice to celebrate their first win of the season. You followed out onto the ice to grab photos of the storm surge, as you knew that was tradition that was so important to everyone.

//

You were in your office, packing up your equipment as you imported the images and videos onto your computer. You sat back in your chair, waiting for the import to finish, as your scrolled through your phone. You heard a knock at your door and you look up to see a freshly-showered Dougie in his pre-game suit that he had shown up in earlier today. 

“Hey, get any good shots tonight?”

You chuckled, knowing that this was a joke you had made with each other before, during the countless video and photo shoots you’d done with the team that last few weeks. 

You held eye contact with him, still chuckling, “You know I did. Did you”

This caused him to laugh as well, “Man, I could have sworn you watched me score that goal. I’m hurt that you didn’t.”

You both giggled before he came and sat at the chair in front of your desk. As he sat down, he looked slightly nervous, maybe uncomfortable? 

“So, I’ve been trying to push this off because you work for the team, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how unfair it is for me to not do this and always wonder what if.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going. Yeah, you guys had been friendly with each other, but a lot of the guys had been friendly. You were super attracted to Dougie, but you didn’t think anything different of the way he’d treated you vs the rest of the guys.

“If you are not interested, feel free to say no and we will forget this whole thing ever happened. But, I was wondering if you wanted to go grab a post game meal with me, (y/n)?”

You were slightly stunned. You wanted this, so you finally mustered up the confidence to respond. “Uhm, absolutely. I would love that!” 

///

DOUGIE’S POV

I was nervous, but good nervous. I hadn’t wanted to date anyone since I came to Carolina, but she was different. She was this presence that really lit up any room she was in. She was brilliant, thoughtful, hilarious, and always made anyone she talked to feel like the only person in the room. It was no secret that she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. A lot of the boys on the team shared that opinion with me, how could they not?

I sat there, after putting myself on the line to ask her to hang out, nervous as fuck, hoping and praying she’d say yes.

She looked up at me with those beautiful eyes and that killer smile and accepted my invitation. 

Thank God.

 She closed her laptop on her desk and stood up, putting it in her bag.

“Ready to go?”

She looked up at me and flashed that heart stopping smile. “Yes, please.”

The whole way out to the parking lot, I wanted to hold her hand so bad. Ever since meeting her, I have had this desire to make her feel secure and safe, and walking with her now was no different. I didn’t understand the effect that she had on me, but I didn’t feel the need to fight it at all. 

I knew which car was hers and had made a point when I got to the arena today to park near her. 

“So, I thought that we could run through a drive-thru since it’s so late and then I have a secret spot that I want to take you to.”

She smiled at me as we approached the cars. “That sounds perfect.”

Every time she smiled at me, my stomach did a backflip.

///

(Y/N) POV

He offered to drive or gave you the option to drive separately, but you just wanted to be around him. In this moment, his presence was intoxicating.

He held his car door open for you, carefully closing the door before he retreated to the driver’s side. He smiled at you before starting the car and driving out of the arena. He asked what your drive thru guilty pleasure was and happily obliged, heading in the direction of it.

You both asked a few questions back and forth, easily filling your time with quality conversation on the way to whatever he had planned for you.

After pulling away from the drive thru, he drove for a few minutes, before turning down a road you were unfamiliar with. He parked and walked around to open your door. He opened his trunk and pulled out a blanket and you followed him as he began walking. Finally, you stopped in an opening and he gestured for you to look out into the field. You could see the entire city lit up in the distance. It was beautiful. He watched you sheepishly for your reaction.

“I figured we could sit out here, eat, talk, and look at the city or the stars.”

You were stunned, but in the best way. You looked up at him, with the biggest grin on your face. “Dougie, this is gorgeous.”

///

It had been probably close to two hours that you two had been sitting in front of the city, under the stars. To be honest, it felt like a fairytale to you. You were convinced that you could do the most mundane task with Dougie and it would feel like the lottery.

The more you talked to him, you realized how incredible he was. He was arguably the most handsome guy you’d ever seen. He was intelligent. He always seemed to be hinged on every word you said. He made you feel like you were all that mattered in the world.

You felt your adrenaline coming down and decided to lay back on the blanket and look up at the stars. Dougie did the same. You two continued your conversation, taking turns talking about anything and everything.

Before you knew it, it was 4 am. Dougie offered to take you back to your car at the arena but you knew that you lived close to his apartment from the last time you filmed a video with him and the boys, so you asked if he could just drop you off at your apartment. He obliged. After he opened your door for you and got into the driver’s seat, you said, “thank you again for dropping me off. I’ll just catch an Uber in the morning for work.”

“That’s nonsense. I’ll just swing by and pick you up.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you get up any earlier than you have to.”

“Nonsense. It’s not an imposition at all.”

You smiled out towards the window. The feelings that you were developing for Dougie were intense. You guys had spent the night talking about things that made it feel like you’d known him your entire life. Something about him made you want to open up and share everything you’ve ever said or done with him.

Part of you felt like he knew the effect he had on you. He glanced over, catching you smiling, trying to hide it. He contemplated for a second but decided to slowly reach over, resting his hand on your knee. He didn’t want to be too forward, but you had the same effect on him as he did you. He knew it was risky because this was the first time you’d hung out.

You smiled over at him before resting your hand on top of his. He was so warm and his hand almost engulfed your entire knee. He was perfect.

He finally pulled up to your apartment building. He parked on the street and got out to come and open your door. He grabbed your bag from you and offered to walk you up to your door.

As you got to your apartment door, you turned to face him. He held your bag out for you to take. You smiled, thanking him for such a lovely night. He smiled back at you. You loved that smile.

He debated kissing you. He had wanted to since he met you on your first day. He decided against It and pulled you in for a hug instead, opting for a kiss on the forehead instead.

Without breaking the hug, he said, “(y/n), thank you for spending tonight with me. You are incredible, truly. Can we do this again sometime? I would love to take you out for a nice dinner or maybe I can cook you dinner?”

You smiled into his chest, before slightly pulling away to look up at him. “I would love that. I’m free Thursday night?”

“Thursday night is perfect.” He smiled down at you, kissing your forehead one more time before pulling away. “Goodnight, (y/n)”

“Goodnight, Dougie” you said before unlocking your door and going inside of your apartment. You rested your back against the door, not wanting to move as you recounted the night, trying to remember every little detail about him. The way he smelled when he hugged you, how safe you felt with him.

You heard your phone ping with a text message. You took it out of your bag, wondering who would be texting you at this hour. It was a text from Dougie:

“Thank you again for tonight. You’re an incredible woman. I can’t wait to see you in the morning. x Dougie”

His message made you smile so big that your cheeks hurt. You were smitten.

///

Thankfully, you weren’t due in to the office until 10 the morning after weekday games, because you felt like you slept for maybe an hour. As you were almost done getting ready for the day, your phone pinged with a text from none other than Dougie.

“Hi gorgeous. Stopping for coffee. What can I bring you? :)”

You couldn’t stop smiling. God, he was perfect. You sent him your coffee order, along with a thank you, and continued getting ready. You had just slid your shoes on when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it and there he stood with that heart stopping smile, holding out your coffee for you to take. 

As you took it, he bent down and kissed your cheek. “How did you sleep, (y/n)?” You almost didn’t answer, caught up in his smile and the way he says your name. “I hardly slept at all, if we’re being honest.” Saying this, you threw a cheeky little smile in his direction. “But, I’m not mad about it at all,” you added, winking at him. 

You start to see a blush rise up on his cheeks and he looks down towards his feet, smiling he entire time, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. You’d never seen him like this before. He was almost bashful. This caused you to smile softy before saying, “we should probably get going.”

///

The car ride to the arena was anything but quiet. You loved talking to Dougie and the feeling was mutual. You brought out a side in him you’d never seen being around him at work. Halfway through the ride, he reached over and grabbed your hand. A warmth washed over here. You loved being around him. There was such a security with him, knowing that if you were his, he’d take care of you always.

///

You had spent the whole week thinking about your upcoming date with Dougie. You could not stop thinking about him. Every second of every hour. You caught yourself sending him quick little texts throughout the day. He came to your office and ate lunch everyday. You couldn’t wait to spend more time with him, away from work.

Thursday finally came. As your workday was coming to a close, your phone buzzed with a text.

Dougie: “Hey beautiful. Roddy let us out early today, so I’m running to get things for dinner tonight. Meet me at my apartment when you’re off?”

You: “I’ll be there. :)”

///

You didn’t even want to go home and change before heading over to Dougie’s. You just wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. There was an away game Sunday, so both of you were off the next day. 

You parked outside of his apartment building, shooting him a text before heading up. You were greeted by him at his door. He pulled you in for a tight hug, pulling you into his apartment in the process. With your face against his chest, you breathed it. His scent never got old. You pull away to look back at him. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and slim fit jeans that fit him in the best possible way. God, he’s fit. You were so lost in your thoughts of him that you didn’t realize that he was watching you sum him up. He laughed and closed the gap between you, wrapping you into his arms again.

He brought one of his hands up from you waist to the side of your face, brushing your hair away and tucking it behind your ear. His eyes were intense, like he was deep in thought. After rubbing your cheek with his thumb, he was tired of waiting. He couldn’t handle his desire to be closer to you anymore. He brought your face closer to his, closing the gap between your lips, kissing you with the most intense passion you’d ever felt. He pulled away, that sheepish Dougie grin taking over. 

“I’ve been waiting to do that for a while now,” he smiles, forehead still resting on yours.

“Me too,” you chuckle.

///

Watching Dougie in the kitchen was the most attractive thing you’d ever seen. While he was working, you just imagined your life after this moment, with him. Seeing this all of the time. 

After making you the most incredible dinner, you guys ended up on his balcony, with a bottle of champagne, giggling like school children, sharing the occasional kiss, him sitting in a chair, you sitting on his lap, one arm around your back, the other resting on your thigh. You were so infatuated with him.

///

You felt yourself begin to get more and more tired. Unable to fight it anymore, you laid your head down on Dougie’s chest, feeling yourself floating between being asleep and being awake, still conscious of where you could feel his skin touching yours.

“I should probably head home,” you say, into his neck, where you’ve nuzzled into him.

“No, no,” you hear him mumble into your hair. “Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” you mumbled, still pressed into his neck, sleepily.

He is getting ready to object when you say, “I’ll stay, but under one condition: you have to stay with me.”

He contemplates for a minute, unsure of if it’s the champagne or the sleep talking, but he just wants to be close to you. Without saying anything, he scoops you up, bridal style, and carries you into his room. Setting you down so that you’re standing in front of his dresser, he pulls out some sweats and a canes t-shirt, handing it to you and kissing you quickly before he leaves the room for you to change. After you’ve changed and thrown your hair into a messy bun, you walk into the kitchen, finding him cleaning up from the dinner you two shared.

You smile to yourself. Eventually, you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. You heard him chuckle a bit before turning around and engulfing you into a hug. He ran his hands up and down your back.

“You look nice in my clothes,” he said, examining you, up and down.

You giggled, looking up at him, getting lost in those eyes.

“You ready for bed, gorgeous?”

You nod at him. He takes your hand and you walk with him back into his room. You stand behind him as he pulls the blankets back for the two of you. He gestures for you to lay down and as you do, he covers you up before removing his shirt and walking to the opposite side of the bed.

You turn to face him, finding his bright eyes already studying you. You grin slightly, soaking in all of his features one by one. You reach out and run your hand through his beard, seeing a smile play on his lips as you felt the stubble on your fingertips. Holding eye contact, you could see that his eyes were intense, studying your face more intently than you’d ever seen before.

Seemingly all in one motion, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, face face only inches from yours. He smiled big before pulling you in for another kiss. Since your first earlier, this was all you had craved. His lips were soft and tender. You felt his hand move to your cheek, pushing your hair back. You deepened the kiss, running your hands into his hair, down his bicep, before stopping at his forearm. 

You felt his kiss throughout your entire body. He was electric. All too soon, you pull away to catch your breath. Foreheads still pressed together, you hear him, barely above a whisper, “You are all I’ve thought about for days now, (y/n). You drive me wild in the best way possible. Everything that you are...” he pauses and begins stroking your hair, “is everything that I’ve looked for for so long. You make me want to be the best version of myself. For you. For us.”

His words cascaded over you like velvet. You let them soak into you, hanging onto every word he said. You’re lost looking for words to have the same effect on him that he’s had on you. You decide to kiss him in response to what he’s said. 

Things become more heated the longer you two kiss. Hands begin to wander. You feel his large hands run down your back, down to your bottom. After giving you a little squeeze, he runs his hand down to the back of your knee, swiftly pulling you up, so that you were straddling him. You smirked into the kiss before kissing him harder.

///

You woke up to sunlight beaming in on your face with strong arms wrapped around you tight. You felt him brush your neck with his lips.

“Good morning. You are so incredibly beautiful first thing in the morning.”

His raspy, morning voice paired with him mumbling into your neck, made him more attractive, not knowing that that was possible. Being here with him, you knew that you never wanted to do this with anyone else...like ever.

///

You laid there with him for the longest time, listening to the two of you breathe, exchanging secrets in the form of glances. Unknown to you, he was feeling the same way you were. You had never felt this way before and he hadn’t either.

///

You two decided to spend the day together, starting with brunch after a lazy morning spent between the sheets together. You ventured downtown after stopping by your apartment to change out of Dougie’s clothes that you had slept in. You offered them back to him, but he smiled and sheepishly told you to keep them.

Dougie drove you downtown to his favorite brunch spot. As you parked and were walking, he reach for your hand.

“I hope this is okay. Y’know, doing this in public. We really haven’t done that yet.”

You just smiled at him, giving his hand a squeeze to let him know that you didn’t mind. 

“It’s great. Really.”

///

You two had the best conversation over brunch, delving deep into topics that you hadn’t yet talked about. After you were done eating, he reached across the table to take your hand, as he’d done before your food arrived, and held eye contact with you, before saying:

“(y/n), I have something to say to you, just because I always want to be upfront with you. I actually don’t know if I could keep anything from you if I tried,” he said with a chuckle.

“Of course you can tell me anything. What’s up?”

“These days with you, since the moment you walked into the arena, I have felt so connected with you. I am so honored that you said yes to spending time with me. You have made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. The way that you look at me is the most incredible feeling, bar none. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, ever, especially in only a few weeks. I think I am falling in love with you, (y/n), and I know that that seems insane but I just want to be open and honest with you.”

You could feel your heart turning flips in your chest. Again, he’d left you speechless. You could feel tears pricking your eyes, but you finally managed to speak.

“Walking into that arena full of men, a large amount being bachelors, my eyes have always been drawn to you. Now that I know you, my heart, my soul, and my body literally crave your presence. Being around you makes me feel alive, makes me feel like a new person. I feel the exact same way about you, Dougie.”

You had avoided his gaze until the last sentence came out of your mouth, but finally connecting your eyes with his, he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. There were truly no words that either of you could say to describe your connection with each other.

You felt him squeeze your hand, pulling you from your thoughts about him. 

“You ready to get out of here?” he smiles over at you.

///

You two decide to hang out at your apartment for the rest of the day. You’re sitting on the couch, snuggled into his side. It felt safe. You were safe. Dougie was rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb, humming sweet nothings to you. You always thought that your job would be what made you feel the most fulfilled. But, this, this was it. This was what you’d been searching for this whole time. 

______________________________

Thank you so much for reading!!! Do you guys want a part 2???

[janeofcakes]

Keep Your Friends Close and Your Enemies Ten Feet from the Pack: Chapter 3

Hi, Everyone! I hope you’re all still out there and are staying healthy. Hopefully, this will give a little distraction if only for a few minutes. I love you all!!

***

So while you sit back and wonder why, I got this fuckin’ thorn in my side. Oh my god, it’s a mirage. I’m tellin’ y’all, it’s sabotage.                                                                                            --The Beastie Boys, Sabotage

John Watson stands in front of a quaint house wondering what the fuck he’s doing there. It’s been two weeks since his first day in the stadium. Fourteen days since he spoke with Molly Hooper about her suspicions. It has been in the back of his mind ever since as he has read medical records in his office, spoken to the skaters in the exam and training rooms, and even while making dinner or reading a book in his flat. It is especially on his mind while he watches the ladies practice and god, he cannot believe how hard they hit on the track. He has seen hockey players crumple under hits like these and they are covered with pads. Frankly, John is surprised there are not more injuries throughout the year, especially since these are only the practices.

He blows out a breath and takes his hands out of his pockets. John had plenty of chances to change his mind when he looked up the retired doctor’s address and while driving the hour and a half to the cheerful little neighborhood. He is here now. He might as well get on with it. 

Striding up to the house, he takes in its white siding and dark green shutters. Many of the windows have boxes containing bright red poppies and small daisies. It’s like it was pulled right from Wizard of Oz and deposited in a Detroit suburb. John steps onto the porch where there is a single wicker chair sitting just to the left of the door and suddenly visions of the stereotypical old man perched on his porch with a shotgun, yelling at children to get the fuck off his lawn pop into his mind. A small smile teases at the corners of his mouth as he directs his attention to the door again and hesitates before knocking. He has no idea what to expect from this man. John glances at the chair again and then knocks firmly. The door opens almost immediately to reveal a man with greying hair and a smile that lights up his whole face. He looks almost joyful. And the epitome of Mr. Rogers, tan cardigan and all.

“I wondered if you’d get up the nerve to knock,” he remarks in a friendly tone. “I saw you drive up from the kitchen window.”

“Um...sorry,” he huffs an embarrassed laugh. “My name is John Watson. I’m looking for Dr. William Wiggins.”

“You found him, and it’s Billy,” the man answers warmly. “What can I do for you, John Watson?”

“Uh...well, I’m not exactly sure,” he cringes, lifting a hand and cupping the back of his neck. “You see, I’m the new doctor for the Detroit Rock City Rollers.”

“Ah, and you want to pick my brain, eh? Some of the ladies are probably different now, you know.”

“Yes, probably, but that’s not what I had in mind, actually,” John bites his lip and wonders how the hell he is going to explain this without sounding insane. He clears his throat and knows exactly how Molly felt. God, what is he even doing here? “I’ve only been here a couple of weeks and I… Molly Hooper...”

“Ahh,” Billy breathes, stepping back from the doorway. “Molly sent you. Come in, John Watson. Come in.”

Moments later, the two men are seated in the living room. John is on the couch and Billy sits in the recliner just opposite. John purses his lips with no idea how to start. To his surprise, the older man beats him to it and cuts right to the chase while he’s at it.

“She shared her suspicions with you.”

“Yes,” John breathes. He swallows and leans forward, sitting on the edge of the couch. “She told me about the accidents.”

“They weren’t accidents, Dr. Watson,” Billy’s voice is stern and his eyes are so intense a pang of discomfort jets down John’s spine. “Every one of those incidents was sabotage.”

“Can you prove that?”

“No,” Billy sighs. John feels himself deflating and he cannot hide his disappointment. Billy shakes his head. “I could easily see there were more injuries than usual. It was as plain as the nose on your face. Didn’t really occur to me that it could be anything other than a series of unfortunate accidents until Molly brought it up.”

John’s eyes are glued to the elderly man and he waits quietly for him to go on. Billy picks up a glass of lemonade from the side table and takes a drink. He had offered John a glass before they sat, but John had respectfully declined. Billy holds the glass in both hands and shakes his head once.

“I was taking a look at her knee. It was a follow-up visit weeks after to make sure it had healed well. She went very quiet when I asked her how it felt. I knew there was something on her mind, but I didn’t say anything,” he shrugs. ”I knew she would tell me when she was ready.”

“She told you it wasn’t an accident.”

“She checked all of her equipment a few hours before the bout. It was all fine, but a bearing came loose and the wheel flew right off,” Billy’s voice is very grave. “Even that could have been coincidence, but her knee pad blew out as soon as she hit the ground. There’s no way. No way in hell.”

“Who were you playing?” John asks.

“The Detroit Demons.”

“There are two teams in Detroit?”

“It’s a big city,” Billy replies. “They are Rock City’s biggest rival. Bouts with them are always the worst and hardest hitting.”

“Were they always playing them when it happened?” John is intrigued.

“No,” Billy places the glass on the coffee table between them. “It didn’t seem to matter who the ladies were playing and that made it harder to find a pattern.”

“Did you consider the possibility that it might be someone skating with Rock City?” John all but whispers. It is a huge gamble. The man might clam up and throw him out at just the suggestion. He had worked with Rock City a long time. He is sure to have plenty of pull with Mrs. Hudson and the staff. One angry phone call about paranoid and insulting accusations could get John fired before he has even started. John waits and watches the doctor for signs of anger that do not come.

“No,” Billy shakes his head. “I can’t believe it of them. Any of them.”

“Did you notice it happening more or less during a certain part of the season? Or in certain places?”

“Not really. It happened every few bouts. Sometimes five in between, sometimes ten. Derby is like hockey, Dr. Watson. There are a lot of bouts.”

“Tell me about it. I saw the schedule for the first time this morning,” John furrows his brow. Attacks on the team with no discernible rhyme or reason leave little room to find the answer to the mystery. How could John find clues where there aren’t any and without Velma Dinkley declaring ‘jinkies’ when one does present itself?

Staring at the lemonade glass on the table, deep in thought, John does not notice Billy studying him closely. The older man wears a thoughtful expression. He is learning as much from and about John as the doctor is from him.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could be of more help,” he says finally.

“I think you can,” John replies, meeting the man’s eyes again. Billy tilts his head curiously. When John speaks, his voice is low and deadly serious. “Molly mentioned poison. She said you were poisoned.”

Billy’s expression darkens and he nods slowly.

“She really has put her trust in you,” he says quietly. “Yes, I was poisoned. I made sure everyone was told it was a bad case of food poisoning to avoid panic, but a couple of them knew what really happened. They could tell.”

“Molly was one of them.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone else?”

“No,” he answers plainly, averting his eyes to the table for a moment. “I retired and moved on. That’s what whoever did it wanted and I’m too old to deal with that shit.”

“So they still don’t know?” John asks, incredulous. “Didn’t you think one of them might be next?”

Billy leans close and stares into John’s eyes. John follows suit, anxious to hear Billy’s next words. Knowing the risks, how could this man keep such a secret?

“Someone wanted me out, Dr. Watson. I was the clear target and there was no sense worrying the team. Yes, there were accidents, but only with minor injuries. I had no reason to believe anyone was in mortal danger.”

“Does Greg know at least?”

“Molly knows.”

“Jesus,” John runs a hand through his hair and lets out a long breath, “someone else should know. Greg or Mrs. Hudson. Someone should be watching out for more accidents. Molly can’t do it while she’s on the track.”

“You know now,” his words silencing John. “Now you can help Molly find out who’s doing it and then prove it. I have the tox report, but it isn’t much good without a suspect and proof.”

“What was it?” John asks after puffing out an almost flustered breath. “What did they use?”

“Cyanide.”

John’s brows raise as he blinks in disbelief. He leans back on the couch for the first time since he sat. He turns everything around and around in his mind, trying to put it all together in a way that makes sense. Who would target the Rock City players and their doctor, especially their doctor? Another team? Why? The answer is obvious. To be on top. To win the championship. But why Billy? Why not Sherlock? He rebuilt the team from the ground up. 

The answer hits John like a slap in the face.

“They wanted to get rid of you and bring Anderson in,” he says as a piece clicks into place.

“Maybe,” Billy replies thoughtfully. He gives John a look and narrows his eyes. “You have met Sherlock?”

“Yes,” John answers with a short laugh. Billy raises his brows. John presses his lips together and looks at the old man. He has an almost mischievous glint in his eye. Should John tell him what he really thinks?

“And?”

“Honestly?” John sighs when the man nods. “I don’t know what to think. He’s so easy to talk to and it makes me feel like I’ve known him my whole life. Then he’s cold and distant and would rather do anything but talk to me. He avoids me at practices and basically ignores me at meetings. He’s a fantastic coach though and boy, can he skate. He’s amazing.”

John looks back at Billy to see a smile growing on his face. He looks down at the floor and corrects himself.

“It’s amazing. And the team is phenomenal. I’ve only seen scrimmages so far, and I’m just learning the rules, but they are really good. They communicate so well with all these signals that look like they’re just shaking out a kink or something.”

“That’s pure Sherlock,” Billy grins openly now. “He’s very clever.”

“Yeah, well, he’s certainly good at avoiding what he doesn’t want to deal with,” John grumbles. 

“He is very opinionated,” Billy laughs, “and has one hell of a stubborn streak. He can be a handful.”

He pauses and looks at John with a wisdom John has not seen since his mother closed her eyes for the final time. He sighs deeply and his expression softens.

“He gets his signals crossed when it comes to sentiment. He’s been burned before.”

“Sentiment?” John furrows his brow. 

“He’s a good ally to have, Watson,” Billy says instead of answering. He leans forward again and looks at John intently. “After what you’ve told me, I can see now that whatever was going on is more serious than I thought. I was a fool for not seeing it then.”

He shakes his head, his face now full of regret and urgency.

“I may not have been the only target after all. You and Molly have to stop it before something terrible happens. Get Sherlock to help. He will face the devil himself for the ladies. He’ll listen to the two of you. Don’t dismiss him as a lost cause.”

“No offense, Billy, you know him better than I, but why would he believe me? He doesn’t believe Molly.”

“Strength in numbers, Watson. He trusts Molly and she trusts you.”

“She says he trusts me,” John gives a half laugh and turns his head away from the older man. He can feel an unexpected low burning anger in his gut, though it is not directed toward Billy. He continues, suspicious and spiteful. “I suppose I should believe her since they’re thick as thieves. There’s something going on between them.”

“Careful, Watson,” Billy says in a quiet, warning tone. “There are some things one should stay away from. Leave it be.”

John looks back at him and then shakes his head.

“He’ll listen to you and Molly, John,” Billy says in a voice of absolute certainty.

John looks up in surprise at the sound of his first name. Billy is wearing a decisive expression and nodding his head slowly.

“Trust me.”

***

There you go! The plot thickens. Anyone surprised and pleased to see Billy in an extremely different role? Haha! Tickles me pink! I can’t wait for y’all to see what’s coming up next. I’ll just say one thing...dinner?

@zentris @toooldforthissh-stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler

[gayregis]

im at that stage of fatigue from the day where i’m so tired the fanfiction is writing itself in my mind theough dialogue but i’m too insanely tired to sit down and write it all out and i work a shift in the morning too so i dont even have time ... so ill forget everything come morning

[[MORE]]

psych, ima try to outline it rn

this is after a little sacrifice and also after season of storms and takes place in cidaris (im not clear on if kerack is the capital so season of storms dealt with the proper king of cidaris or if it was just a local kingship but im hcing that cidaris is also a capital city as well as the region/nation).

this is geralt and dandelion going to the grape festival mentioned in a little sacrifice btw

main goal for this is to basically give dandelion more depth and address his identity issues and backstory and just how his character is in general

valdo marx (as far as i am headcanoning in terms of appearance right now) is of course , also a twink and they have similar builds but valdo isnt as skinny as dandelion because he has access to three full meals every day. he has dark brown hair and green eyes, and i might give him the same hair and beard as dandelion from tw3 just to spite cdpr. he used to sport green/purple doublets as an independent artist, but now as the reaident troubadour of cidaris, he’s adopted their emblatic colors (blue and white) and wears a doublet with a sash of these colors. he doesn’t have poofy sleeves, instead he has these ruffs and like... bellbottom sleeves. also this method of embellishing clothes that i learned from a glamour video (it’s @ 4:30ish) called slashing is applicable to his outfits. i think he veers away from tights unlike dandelion, so he wears more breeches than anything. he doesn’t have detailed embroidery like dandelion, but rather patterned/quilted areas with silver and some small pearls added for decoration in these sections as well.

so geralt and valdo have to be placed together somehow in a conversation. basically he wants to #expose dandelion for being a fraud... but he’s not doing it out of Pure Evil, he’s (vaguely) kind of like the lodge of sorceresses in which it’s like, he is only wanting things to be done his way because really he thinks it’s the best way to do things. he’s really a victim of academia, he would be someone that supports the fact that instruments are like $1,000 each.

basically he and dandelion were classmates at oxenfurt and at first hit it off very well and shared notes and thoughts and sexual partners and all was splendid. but they got competitive and valdo HATES that dandelion does NOT come from a family known for music or any kind of art. basically dandelion is a novus homo, but in the world of music, and valdo comes from an established family which has been musically inclined for generations. he feels that ppl like dandelion just wanna go to oxenfurt for shits and giggles and dont take this opportunity seriously because theyre too blinded by their own arrogance to actually learn anything. and he may be right in regards to a lot of other children of wealthy noble families that attend oxenfurt. but dandelion’s case was different and this he does not like to admit. also he hates how dandelion is... inclined to... a life of debauchery... because he feels he perpetuates stereotypes of artists being good for nothing penniless drunkards and lechers, and makes it harder for Real Professionals from Actual Lineage to get a job. also he has a disdain for how dandelion really wanted to travel and admired the “musicians of the world” that never attended some fancy college, and again valdo sees this as him not appreciating the opportunity he was given, because all you ever need to interact with is this little 1 mile by 1 mile square of oxenfurt, and not even the whole city, just the college. also when valdo tells all this to geralt he goes give him a judgemental up and down look like... “julian loves meeting, writing about, and... ahem... fraternizing with... all kinds of ... people.” (he was gonna say “trash,” but geralt has swords and cats eyes, so valdo swallowed that last word). ALSO ALSO valdo thinks dandelion is further destroying the sanctity of academic places like oxenfurt by training good for nothings from other nobody families, like essi daven, who was actually from a noble family but one not too rich because it was kind of distant from the ruling family. and since she threw a fit they let her do her own thing instead of marrying her off.

also valdo is like “julian— ahem, ... ‘dandelion,’ as you know him... i don’t know why he uses that absurd little nickname,” because he just finds the idea of a pseudonym stupid (since hes from a famous musical family of course he wants to highlight his lineage). and again he dislikes how dandelion is Corrupting Others by not only mentoring essi at oxenfurt, but training her in an “unorthodox fashion,” ie they just duet and talk shit about random stuff and he advises her weird things like “get a cool fake name so all the girls have something to scream as you go on stage”

as they interact with each other, valdo and dandelion actually are kind of opposite of dandelion and essi. they dont throw ANY snide remarks and keep it all under wraps with just pleased smiles and then as soon as theyre out of earshot (a long way for bards) theyre like “i am going to take the replacement strings of my lute and choke the lights out of that tone-deaf idiot” ... geralt is like 😳 to see aggression in dandelion and hes a bit intimidated at first but then is like Bro Are you Fucking Okay ????? Because its so unnatural for dandelion to be Actually Upset about something and not be ok within half a day

scene where dandelion is staring at the mirror and geralt is like you have been staring at the mirror for a long time, even by your standards... dandelion is like “i have to change something... geralt, look at me. look at me. (says it again bc geralt didnt look up the first time). if you could change one thing about my face, what would it be?” and geralts obviously like “nothing.” and dandelions like dont be fucking difficult just tell me i need to know i need your opinion and geralt is like that IS my opinion i sincerely like your face the way it is. something something blah blah blah tenderness geralt says smth like dandelion you have a lot of loyal fans okay...... and hes trying to refer to himself but he doesnt wanna say it aloud

i think something about dandelion talking about who he was (basically referring to “julian” in the 3rd person) and just very uncharacteristically self-loathing but them he pops back into his little arrogant self ... basically he covers that everyone Fucking Laughed at him for wanting to sing but he did it and now he’s the best and also, sexy. in this whole scene (same scene as last bullet point) he is also saying that he needs to “prove himself” and geralt is just like What More Can You Do, You Are Literally Famous... but dandelion is just pensive about it

also he says something like “theres two versions of me... julian with a dream who nobody knows, and dandelion who’s famous and loved.” and geralts like “theres three.” “three?” “there’s also dandelion, the one i know, who, it doesn’t matter if he’s famous or what, because i just like him and enjoy his company.” BECAUSE i dont know how not to be blunt and not hit my readers over the head with what i wanted to get across. geralt is a blunt man however so i think its acceptable to do this

basically this fic is “dandelion can have little a OOCness for character development”

tbh its not too ooc (hopefully) bc hes not like downright depressed, hes just pensive, like he is when hes trying to think of a good title or rhymes and nothing is working. nothing is working! hes frustrated!!!

i have nooooo idea how to resolve this conflict ive introduced. i think valdo and dandelion have to sing a duet together and it is like skating on thin ice with sharks underneath . MAYBE valdo gets possessed by,, something? not a demon bc IVE HAD ENOUGH GOETIA AFTER SEASON OF STORMS but you know An Entity, and dandelion is like wow this is an improvement!! and geralts like no it isnt, now i have to exorcise this fucker

also throughout this i think that the king and queen of cidaris (maintaining that kerack isnt the capital and is just another kingship within the nation) looooveveeveveeee dandelion and his presence and are like oh dandelion you are always welcome in our court :) which also totally pisses valdo off because its like dandelion came into his work/home and fucked both of his bosses and is trying to steal their loyalty through Sexual Appeal. which. may ring true. but dandelion does stuff for fun and not for manipulation soooo valdo is a little wrong in thinking dandelion is manipulating them. and this also adds to valdos resentment of dandelion for being so promiscuous and also writing about his love affairs bc he feels it detracts from The Art...

basically this fic is also me telling academia and ppl who feel art should be limited to a certain crowd to go stuff it cause no one cares and creativity and learning is only human of anyone. also an excuse to give dandelion character depth and also an excuse to break how geralt is always the gloomy one and dandelion has to cheer him up, i think though they do have their strong personalities, relationships should ideally go both ways in terms of emotional support so it shows geralt has the capacity to support a dandelion with festering anger and personal identity problems. also a way for geralt to learn a little abt dandelions backstory without learning/spoiling the fact that hes a v*scount and actually noble and wealthy (they just refer to his family as being wealthy enough to pay for oxenfurt which is significant but not astounding)

[bumblybee-fic]

Oh no! I didn't see that last request for prompts! If you'd like, can you do something involving magical realism?

There’s something strange about Sidney, but Zhenya can’t quite place it. He’s only been in Pittsburgh for a few games now, but even he’s been able to see it. There’s something in Sidney’s eyes, something… unsettling when he looks at the ice, or when someone edges just a little too close to his sticks for his liking. It’s only there for a moment, and then it flickers away, and Sidney smiles or puts his game face on depending on the situation. 

“He’s just like that,” Sergei tells him when he brings it up. “I guess you can’t be a superstar hockey talent without being really weird.” He glances at Zhenya when he says that, and Zhenya has to defend his honor with a little shove.

If anyone else catches the way Sidney looks like he’s about to devour the opposing team when they head out on the ice, they don’t mention it, and Zhenya’s English isn’t quite good enough to ask anyone but Sergei for the time being anyway.

But he thinks about it, and he watches Sidney just that more closely.

The Pens lose an embarrassing game to Washington late in the season, and Zhenya knows he’s partially to blame—it was just an off game for him. It happens, and he knows that, he knows it, but that doesn’t make him any less hard on himself.

Sergei gives him a look in the locker room that means he’s being especially awful, and he knows he needs to go let off some steam. He’s already taken his time with his shower, and eventually it’s just him, Sidney, and Sergei left. Sidney practically lives at the arena, but Sergei’s clearly waiting up for him, and Zhenya feels a little guilty about that.

“Do you mind if I—“ he starts, but Sergei nods.

“Do what you need to do, Zhenya. I’ll wait up.”

Even Sidney leaves before Zhenya’s finished, opting for just a t shirt and shorts as he laces up his skates again, pulling them just a little too tight before heading down to the ice.

But, he realizes just before he steps out from under the runway, Sidney’s already out there.

And he’s practically naked.

Well, naked save for one of the towels from the shower tied around his waist—he’s not even wearing skates as he steps out, barefoot, onto the ice, his back facing Zhenya.

Sidney’s shoulders slump a little as soon as both feet are firmly planted, and… to be honest, Zhenya’s surprised that he’s not falling all over himself without any kind of traction.

But then Sidney takes the towel off, his ass completely exposed, and although Zhenya’s seen it plenty of times before, this feels… different, like he’s encroaching on something he shouldn’t be.

Zhenya blinks, and—

And there’s a fucking dragon on the ice where Sidney had been standing.

Zhenya blinks again, because clearly he’s hallucinating out of frustration, but—no, that is definitely a dragon, and it is definitely lying down on its belly where Sidney had just been standing. It settles itself onto the ice, and with every movement, no matter how minute, its deep blue scales shift to purple to green and then back to blue again. It lets out a huff, giving its wings a little flap before closing its yellow-brown eyes, an almost human-like smile on its face, as though content with itself.

Zhenya breathes out a curse, and the dragon immediately sits up and breathes a spray of water in his direction, which turns to ice almost immediately after it escapes the dragon’s mouth. The ice lands and splinters out onto center ice, and when Zhenya looks back toward the dragon, Sidney is there—completely fucking naked.

Sidney says something too quickly for Zhenya to catch much of it. “—, okay? Please, Geno.”

Zhenya swallows, because Sidney’s just standing there, as if he hadn’t just turned into a dragon and spat ice and then turned back into himself.

“Please don’t tell,” Sidney says, slower this time, and Zhenya nods quickly. Sidney seems to relax a little after that, then realizes that, yeah, he’s completely naked, and picks up his towel to cover himself up. “Do you want to talk—“

“Zhenya!” Sergei calls. “You done yet? I’m not waiting all night for you to mope on the ice.”

“Go,” Sidney says, nudging Zhenya back toward the runway. “We can talk later. Just don’t tell Gonch, okay?”

Zhenya nods again, because he’s not sure he can bring himself to say much of anything that would be coherent, anyway, and does as Sidney tells him.

Sergei gives him a once-over when he’s back, his frown only deepening. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Zhenya says. “Let’s go.”

Zhenya knows the stories about ice dragons, of course. Anyone who’s read one book about dragons has probably come across them—but dragons are supposed to be fairy tales, stories passed down from generation to generation meant to scare kids and keep them in line.

But Zhenya’s seen a dragon, and that dragon just so happens to be the best player in the NHL. So. That one’s a little hard to reconcile.

He braces himself for the next practice, because he knows Sidney’s going to corner him to talk—if what happened two nights ago had actually happened, because now that it’s been a couple of days, Zhenya’s not entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating the whole thing.

But sure enough, after practice Sidney comes over and asks both Zhenya and Sergei if they could stay behind so he can have a word with Zhenya. Sergei raises an eyebrow at that, but nods.

Zhenya follows Sidney out into the hall, where Sidney looks both ways before pulling Zhenya into, of all places, a broom closet.

“Okay, so, what you saw Friday night,” Sidney says, and when Zhenya doesn’t offer anything in reply—because, great, he hadn’t been imagining things—Sidney goes on, much too quickly for Zhenya to reasonably keep up.

When Sidney pauses again, staring at Zhenya’s blank expression, he seems to get the message.

“I’m a dragon,” he says. “But, like, only at night, because I have to be on the ice to keep my body temperature stable. I’m human the rest of the time, just—it’s just easier that way.”

Zhenya nods, because this is clearly, clearly insane—but then that’s Sidney, isn’t it? A hockey player above all else, and weird the rest of the time. He’s just… very weird at night, Zhenya supposes.

“I haven’t told any of the guys,” Sidney goes on, “so it’d be great if this could just… be on the down-low for now, you know?”

Zhenya nods again, because again, nobody’d believe him even if he tried to explain it—and the look of relief on Sidney’s face makes it pretty well worth it, too.

“Okay,” Sidney breathes. “Okay, so… this is okay. Thanks, Geno. I really—it means a lot.”

“No problem,” Zhenya says, more because he knows that’s what he’s supposed to say than anything else. He has a million and one questions, but that’s not what Sidney needs right now—he needs reassurance, and Zhenya can give him that. “You never hear end of it, anyway.”

There’s a pause, and Zhenya’s worried he shouldn’t have made that joke, but then Sidney smiles. “Yeah, you’re right, I’d never live it down, huh?” He pauses for a moment, then takes a step closer. 

When Sidney hugs him, it’s a little awkward—partially due to the fact that Sidney’s hand whacks against a broom handle when he wraps his arms around Zhenya, and then the tip of the handle digs into Zhenya’s back. But Zhenya can feel just how warm Sidney is, like he’s a furnace, and Zhenya has this indescribable desire to just curl up right here, forever.

When Sidney starts designing the house—because it’ll be their house, just one, none of this going back and forth—they get a lot of shit for putting an ice rink in the basement.

“Can’t drag him away from it, eh, Geno?” Tanger says. “Too bad he’ll never have time for you once that’s built.”

“No, it just mean we’re not have sex at center ice here anymore,” Zhenya says with a grin, and there’s a chorus of groans.

“That’s never actually happened,” Sidney clarifies, because he’s a fun-ruiner. And then he smiles, just a little, focusing on lacing up his skates. “But maybe it will on our own ice.”

The rest of the team groans even louder, but Zhenya’s practically beaming for the rest of the day.

[welllpthisishappening]

Welllp...This is Festive Fic!

Hello again, internet! ‘Tis the season for lots of food and Starbucks holiday drinks and trope-filled holiday fic, of which I have written just a copious amount over the last few years. I’m sure I’ll have some Christmas fic sooner rather than later because of who I am as a person, but in the meantime, here are some words. I hope you all get everything you want over the next few weeks with lots of smiles and enough snow in December that it looks festive, but isn’t annoying to drive in. 

----

Thanksgiving Fic

In Case of Emergency, Call... Killian just wants to make cookies. Alone. On Thanksgiving. What he gets is a rolled ankle and a hospital trip and a best friend worried out of her mind. (Modern AU)

To Grandmother's House We Go There’s no Thanksgiving equivalent in the Enchanted Forest, but there is a little bit of magic and that’s enough to bring a family together across holidays and realms. (Future Canon-esque)

Whistled for Icing Elsa left behind a bit of magic in the forest and the citizens of Storybrooke are ready to put it to good use. (Future Canon-esque)

Concussion Protocol  The Rangers are on the road, Mary Margaret is baking pie and Emma is far more worried than she expected to be as soon as she hears Killian slam into the boards. (Blue Line)

Dinner on the Road The Jones Line finds a restaurant for Thanksgiving and a brand-new look for its youngest member. (Blue Line)

Christmas and New Year’s fic under the cut. Once again, because of who I am as a person.

Christmas Fic

To Make the Season Bright It’s just one weekend. At Christmas. In New York. With everyone there. With Killian there. It’s fine. Emma doesn’t mind – he’s always there and she wants him to be there and it’ll be good. Great, even. Festive. 

She’s looking forward to it.

She just hopes she doesn’t do something stupid. Like shout feelings in his face. That probably wouldn’t be very festive. (Modern AU, multi-chapter)

It’s the Thought That Counts It was, in theory, a good idea. It was, in theory, an absolutely fantastic idea. Because there was still, sometimes, a crisis or two in Storybrooke and nothing would be more chaotic than trying to find a Christmas present on Main Street, while also trying to keep said Christmas present a secret. Ordering gifts on the internet makes sense. It’s just a few clicks and online sales and the presents will be there in plenty of time for Christmas to be perfect.

Emma and Killian are positive.

Except then the presents don’t show up and it’s Christmas Eve and plan B isn’t so much a plan as it is just a bit of pre-holiday desperation and the entire town knows what they’re up to. (Canon Future-esque, multi-chapter)

A Fair, Even-Handed, Noble Adjustment of Things Emma just wants to do something good. Give back. Maybe get a few bonus points. Metaphorically speaking. Not the last one. That defeats the purpose of all of this. But she can’t really think straight because he keeps humming and using nicknames and stealing all the flour. And she’d give up all the bonus points she’s, maybe, accumulated by, possibly, doing good if she could just remember what his name is. This is not going the way she planned. At all. (Modern AU)

Heart to Heart and Hand in Hand She was cold. She was tired. She did not want to be ice skating. She wasn’t really ice skating. She was just…kind of standing there – while getting yelled at by security guards and stared at by her boyfriend and they were being pushed off the ice. Not literally. And Emma knew she was being a Grinch or, maybe, just Max the Dog because she wasn’t in control enough to be a Grinch, but Killian wanted to go ice skating and well…fake it ‘til you make it festivity, right? (Modern AU)

The Gift Receipt It genuinely makes sense in her head. After all, Mary Margaret is being Mary Margaret and Emma just needs five seconds to herself and for her friends to get off her back and saying she can’t talk to Killian Jones because she and Killian Jones once went on a very bad date is the perfect excuse. It’s also not true, but whatever. It works. Until Emma needs to bring someone home for Christmas. To get the entire town off her back. So, she comes up with another plan and another lie and pretending to get back together with a guy she was never actually with will make their inevitable break-up incredibly easy. It makes sense. Seriously. That is, of course, until Killian agrees and there’s far too much pie and radio hits of the 70s and opinions on animated Christmas classics. It gets a little more complicated after that. (Modern AU, multi-chapter)

Older Now, But Not Done Hoping Killian Jones has lost his festive spirit. It’s been forcibly removed by corporate America and private developers and how much alcohol the customers at his bar drink every night. Although, he supposes, that means he’s making a profit, but that also feels a little Scrooge-esque and he doesn’t have time for visits from ghosts.

Because he’s suddenly got a whole schedule in front of him, written out and planned by his roommate. To reclaim their mutual and collective festivity. Together. Oh, and he’s in love with her. At Christmas. And all the time, really.

This is going to be great. (Modern AU, multi-chapter)

Kiss Her Once [For Me]

To say that the last year has been hectic would be the greatest understatement in the history of the modern world. Or, like, libel. In print, it’s libel.

Because the last year has been filled with political promises and campaigns and far more press conferences than Emma realized were possible. And now, with Washington D.C. ahead of them, the only thing Emma really wants is to figure out how many boxes she’ll need to move all her stuff.

That is, of course, until Killian finds her sitting in the middle of Regina’s hallway, a distinct lack of alcohol in her system, and the guarantee that he’s got a plan. For fun. Of the festive variety. It includes mistletoe. (Modern AU)

A Few Days Off for Christmas “How long do you think a person can go without sleep before they succumb to complete madness?” “Eleven days,” Killian responded immediately. Emma’s head jerked back, eyebrows pulled low and the bags under her eyes somehow felt heavier. “Why is that a thing you just know?” “I didn’t until somewhere in between Calgary and Vancouver and Scarlet thought it would be hysterical to find out how long I could actually go before passing out on the ice. Bad jokes, it seems, are some kind of trend these days.” (Blue Line)

Dropping Gloves...in the Name of Festive Fashion It’s probably one of the more ridiculous things any of them have ever done. It’s also one of the better ideas any of them has ever had – it’s festive and in the spirit and the fans will love it. And maybe it’s kind of fun because it ends with another win and some positive press before the break and Phillip’s jacket is really just…a work of fashion art. The way Emma laughs at his jacket and sweater combination a few hours before puck drop is just a bonus. (Blue Line)

All Knotted Up He’s never actually done anything like this – brought a girl home for Christmas. No, not just a girl – Emma. Emma was coming to the brownstone for Christmas and the entire Vankald family would be there with traditions and bread pudding and there had to be gifts.He needed to buy a gift. Or, at least, get a gift. And the list of people who wouldn’t laugh right in his face at the idea of Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, freaking out about that was growing more and more slim by the minute. (Blue Line)

Have Your Cake [And Eat It Too]  Killian can't seem to stop moving. It's a nervous habit. He's a little nervous. Because they've been waiting forever and he's been waiting forever and he really just wants them to be a family. Officially.

Emma needs to keep moving. To win. She's very competitive. And she's needs a distraction. Because they've been waiting forever and trying a bit longer and she really just wants them to be a family. Officially

Or: Another quasi Out of the Frying Pan sequel with the legal system and Kitchen Stadium.

A Spark of Piracy Late-night blanket theft inspires Killian to remember his piratical beginnings. (Future Canon-esque)

Santa-Con Emma and Killian join their friends for Santa Con in midtown, with surprising results. (Modern AU)

New Year’s Fic

We'll Take a Cup (defense) of Kindness

It's one night. New Year's Eve. And a whole list of rules. Because Regina might have actually lost her mind. Or maybe that's just Emma. Because they've played a million games in two days, or it's at least felt that way, and planning an outdoor practice a few weeks before the Olympics seemed like a good idea at one point. Now it just seems insane. So she's going to wear this dress and kiss her boyfriend. A lot.

He's good. Better than good. Great. The greatest. It's New Year's Day and, yeah, sure it's freezing, but Killian hasn't actually tried to push Scarlet on the Subway tracks yet so that seems like a step in the right direction. So he's a little distracted a few weeks before the Olympics, but that's fine. It's good. Or it'll be good. Eventually. Soon. In the meantime he's probably just going to kiss his girlfriend. A lot. (Blue Line)

[nationalhoranleague]

Sixteen | Doubt

Chapter Song: Us (Acoustic) - James Bay

≫ Everly - Monday, February 1, 2016 ≪

It was blistering cold out, but it was welcomed this morning. There was something about the cold air that brought along a certain kind of clarity to my thinking. It was early still, the sun wasn't to come up for another hour and a half. I have never been, am not, and will never be a morning person. I love sleep more than anything or anyone on this earth, Sidney included. But since my injury, a full night's rest has been harder and harder to come by.

The glisten of the holiday season has long been faded, my family has returned to work from their holiday breaks, and Sidney was knee-deep in the playoff run, leaving little time for himself, let alone me. I was left to my own devices and there were next to none to be left to. I had read every book that both Sidney and I had in our possession, watched what felt like all of the makeup tutorials on Youtube, and even attempted to remake some of Julia Child's classic recipes. Not being able to skate was driving me to the brink of insanity and boredom.

Behind me, I could hear the back door creak open and then quickly shut. I listened as Sidney's sleepy body shuffled across his back yard over to where I was sitting with my back to him. He leaned over the back of the pool lounge I had wandered over to this morning and pressed a warm kiss to the side of my face.

He shoved a warm mug into my chilled hands before sitting down into the chair next to me. He sighed, took a sip from his mug, and then closed his eyes as he settled himself into the metal chair.

For a long time, we were quiet, the only sounds being of the cold wind blowing around us and the pool cover in front of us rustling in the wind.

"Why are you awake?" I asked quietly, causing him to open his eyes and look at me.

He sighed. "I rolled over and you weren't there," I turned back to watching the trees swaying in front of me.

We sat quietly for another bout, in fact, we were quiet for so long that I was nearly halfway done with my coffee by the time Sidney broke the silence. "So, are you ready to fess up?"

"To what?" I asked, playing dumb with him.

He scoffed. "Don't play coy with me, Everly Grace," Clearly, Sidney is not a morning person either. "I know when something is bothering you. You're tossing and turning all night, you've been up before 6 pretty much every morning since your injury, you're not eating normally, and you've been in a mood since I've been back from my road trip." I exhaled heavily. "I'm worried about you. Did I-" He sighed. "Did I do something wrong?" He asked, his voice soft.

"No! Sid, no! I-I'm fine."

He laughed sadly, shaking his head at me. "You didn't even believe that yourself. Now, what is bothering you?"

I sighed. "Sid, not being able to skate has driven me to the brink of insanity."

"Oh, honey,"

"I have been skating since I was three, Sidney. I know nothing but figure skating. I have never, until this past year, not been able to skate whenever I wanted. Two injuries within a year is a lot to deal with, mentally and physically." I sighed. "Maybe it's too much?"

Sidney was quiet for a minute, letting the realization of what I had just said set in. It was a lot to take in and if he had said the same to me, I would have been just as stunned. Even I was shocked. Sure, I had been tossing the idea of quitting skating around in my head for weeks now, but saying it out loud made it feel like a plausible idea. "How long have you been thinking about this?" He asked incredulously.  

"Since Christmas," I confessed. "Is my body going to let me do this anymore, Sid? I mean for God's sake, I've had two knee injuries in a year! A year! I'm falling apart at the seams!" I paused, briefly. "But how could I quit? I have nothing better to do. I have absolutely no backup plan. I bet my whole life on a career that could be over in the blink of an eye." I looked over at him. "Did I mess up, Sidney?"

Sidney shook his head. "You didn't mess up, you followed your dream and have made an amazing career out of it. An amazing career. You still have so much to do, I know it in my gut."

I half smiled at him. "I don't know, bubba."

Sidney stood up, practically unfolding himself from the pool chair, he reached a hand out to me, pulling me up from the chair. "C'mon, let's go in. It's freezing out here." I followed him across the backyard.

"I thought you were Canadian?" I asked, teasing him.

He faked a soft laugh, clearly not amused with my chirp. "Why did you sound like that one vine?" I tossed my head back in true laughter. I was sure that if it wasn't for my obsession with vine references, Sidney would have no idea what a vine even is. "I thought you were American?" He mocked.

Once inside, Sidney made a beeline for the coffee pot, desperately needing a warm-up for his mug. I found a comfy spot in the window seat of the breakfast nook. He refilled his mug before making his way over to me, sliding in behind me, pressing his back to the wall. I settled comfortably in between his thick legs and dropped my head back against his chest.

"Oh, my love," I sighed. "I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do, Sid."

"No," He said, confidently. I tilted my head up to look at him, confused.

"No?"

"No, I'm never going to tell you what to do with your life, Ev." I smiled softly at him, before returning my eyes to the window which now painted a portrait of the sun rising over the trees in Sidney's backyard. "I can, however, offer some advice, if you'd like."

"Okay, shoot, Crosby,"

"I've been doing some reading since I don't know anything about figure skating," I grinned. Sidney is, by a mile, the sweetest, most caring man I had ever met. It only made sense to me that he would research and learn more about the sport that made me the person I am today. "The first qualification event for PyeongChang is the 2017 World Championships, so you're technically in the position right now to be able to take an entire year off from skating. And, for what it's worth, I think you should. Give yourself the time to heal up both psychically and mentally. "

"Yeah, I mean, I agree with you," I began slowly. "But, I don't know what I would do with myself for a year, Sid."

"Well," He began hesitantly. "I don't know if you would be interested, and I don't want you to think this is a handout, because it's not. You just-" He sighed, clearly struggling to find the right words. I turned around to face him now. "You just know me so well, and we have the same passions and work ethic and I can't think of anyone else I would want to do it."

"Okay, what is it?" I asked, now a little on edge because I was completely unsure of where he was about to take this conversation.

"I have a spot open on the foundation board."

I gasped. The foundation was Sidney's pride and joy. Even while in the middle of trying to clinch a playoff berth, he was still heavily involved in the planning of his upcoming hockey school and charity events in both Nova Scotia and Pittsburgh.

"Sid, are you sure?"

"I'm 100 percent sure, I just want to make sure that this is something you want to be involved in too."

I nodded eagerly. "Oh! I would love to,"

"Yeah? Thank God! When can you start?"

I laughed, before launching myself into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his lips to mine.

Liked by jeffskinner, taylorcrosby29, smellymelly, and 36,998 others.

everlygcassius: In December I sprained my ACL and as many of you have probably noticed, I have been off of the ice since. Tomorrow, I will be cleared to make my return to the ice. However, I have decided that two injuries in a year have been too much for my knee, my heart, and my mental health. I will be taking a step back from skating until 2017. I am looking forward to healing myself and returning to the international stage as a powerhouse in Helsinki for the World Championships!

≫ Everly - Sunday, February 7, 2016 ≪

For once, since my injury, Sidney was awake long before I was. In the past week, I had been able to calm down tremendously, thus allowing me to sleep in longer than the sun. I had officially accepted the position with Sidney's foundation and had informed my agent, Eva, family, and the rest of the world that I would be taking a break from skating. Most everyone was supportive, except for a few rude trolls here and there. However, I was happy and that was all that mattered to me.

I was missing skating already. But, I'm so looking forward to getting to know myself outside of the world of figure skating. I'm looking forward to finding something I was passionate about, something I enjoyed doing. I'm looking forward to having a short, busy summer with Sidney, who had recently collected his 900th point and a playoff berth in one fell swoop. I'm looking forward to working closely with Trina and the other foundation board members. I'm looking forward to so many things and amazingly, none of them pertained to skating, making me feel oddly at ease.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," I perked up, seeing Sidney sliding himself between his bedroom door and the door frame. "Want to come down? I'm making breakfast, I thought we could have an 'us' day since we haven't had a lot of time together recently."

He was right. He had been traveling just about every other game recently and was typically only home late at night or early in the morning, all but forcing me to stay at his house if I wanted to spend more than 15 minutes with him. "Yeah, are pants required?"

Sidney titled his head in thought. Suddenly, he stepped into his bedroom, where I was still buried away underneath his heavy blankets, and dropped his sweatpants on the floor, leaving him clad only in his boxer briefs. "No,"

"Good," I proclaimed, standing up on his bed now, showing him that I only had on one of his t-shirts and a pair of black lacy boyshorts.

He cackled, before coming over to my side and lending a hand up to help me down from the bed. I placed my feet on the cream carpet and began to reach for my cell phone on the charger. Sidney swatted at my hand, making me eye him curiously.

"No cell phones," He pointed over to his nightstand where his phone was still plugged in and resting on the wood.

"Okay, yeah, I like that."

It was late. Neither Sidney nor I had bothered to replace our pants, check our phones, or brush our teeth for the entire day. We had eaten our weight in junk food, had a dance party, taken two naps each, switching between little spoon to big spoon, and watched countless Disney movies. The day was both greatly needed and appreciated by us.

Sidney held onto me tightly, keeping me from rolling off the side of the couch. Our legs were tangled together, probably as equally as hairy. His face was pressed into my hair, allowing his vanilla ice cream scented breath to fan over my neck. My face was tucked into the crook of his strong arm, serving as a surprisingly comfortable pillow.

"Ev," He whispered. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," I responded giggling.

"You know I'm proud of you, right?" I froze, not knowing how to respond. "I would give anything for you not to be having to go through this right now, but I'm so proud of how you're handling yourself with grace and looking at the situation optimistically. You make me want to be a better athlete and person." He paused to let out a long yawn. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life admiring the hell out of you, Everly Grace."

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[tormundjonthings]

GOT Politics Thoughts! (I know, I’m not original)

So I’ve been thinking a lot about the last couple seasons again after reading the finale script last week, specifically about how Game of Thrones handled politics in it’s last few seasons. A lot has been written about how the characters or relationships or fantasy elements were bungled, but I’m interested in how they  muddled the political end too. And not just the in universe politics, like conflicts between houses or the challenges of moving/feeding armies. Although...that also pretty much vanishes, outside of that stray line of Sansa’s from s8 about feeding Dany’s armies (which is mainly there so Dany can get in a sick line about how cool dragons are.)

No, I’m more interested in how the larger political questions / parallels to politics in the real world vanish or become so confused that any message is lost entirely.

Lets venture back a few seasons, say to like season 5, and look at  some of the big political topics being addressed. (This got SUPER long, so more under the cut) 

Political Question One: What are borders? 

The storyline at the Wall was always one of the most interesting parts of the show to me, mostly because of the nature of the conflict between the Nights Watch and the Free Folk. The the Wall was always a foil to the pettier political games happening elsewhere in the series. That whole Mormont quote “when the dead rise, do you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne?” Like they’ve got a big, giant existential disaster to deal with, makes all the squabbling between houses look pretty damn silly!

Yet they also participate in some of this political squabbling, which is very interesting to me! They spend several SEVERAL seasons dealing primarily not with the existential threat at hand, but trying to fight off people who largely just want to escape to safety. 

The reason Jon Snow is one of my favorite characters in the series is that he’s one of the very few people who looks at an underlying bit of “common political wisdom” in Westeros, something that’s been unchanged for thousands of years regardless of who sits on the Iron Throne, and says, “Hey, this is both very wrong and very dumb.”

He meets the Wildlings, notes that they follow the same religion as the North, speak the same language, have a lot of the same customs, and most importantly notes that they’re just people trying to live their lives in safety. 

Some of them raid and kill, yes. But lets be honest...plenty plenty plenty of people born and bred in the Seven Kingdoms do that too.

The division between people of the Seven Kingdoms is entirely arbitrary. Other people in the series have noted this (Benjen, Tyrion) but Jon actually tries to do something about it. He says they’re all the same, that the Free Folk are part of the realms of men, and manages to get many of them south of the Wall. 

This is incredibly controversial; he’s broken a huge political taboo here. The northern Lords hate “Wildling invaders.” Many members of the Nights Watch don’t care much about the White Walkers and see the Free Folk as their primary enemy. This is so controversial that Jon is murdered for it. 

Now, if you live in almost any part of the world right now, you’ll note that this has many, many parallels to real life events. Especially if you see White Walkers as Climate Change. People trying to escape to safety from disasters and the complete immorality of holding up largely arbitrary borders in the face of existential threats to humanity is already an enormous political issue, and likely to be more so in the years to come. This is a good thing, maybe an essential thing, to explore and talk about through fiction right now. 

So how is it handled after Jon is resurrected? Well...it kind of isn’t really. Some of the northern Lords are pissed about it when Jon asks for support during the Battle of the Bastards, but Robb’s old mess-ups are generally more the issue there. Apparently all the Nights Watch members who were uncool with it get hung for treason and...no one else in the manned castles says anything. There are some pissed off northern Lords again who mention Wildling invaders once they’re back in Winterfell but its pretty much skated over and they still all crown Jon king like immediately. The focus on borders and arbitrary divisions, how harmful and damaging they can be, which was a big part of the Wall plotline for several seasons, is pretty much just dropped. 

Political Question Two: What is a Revolutionary?

So this is pretty much the whole question surrounding Dany’s plotline. I do  think, especially in her earlier seasons, that Dany genuinely felt sympathy for enslaved people in Slavers Bay and wanted to free them. Like, if Jon is one person who looks at the underlying nature of this world and sees injustice, the other person who does so is Dany (at least initially.) I do truly think she saw parallels to her own terrifying situation when Viserys sold her to Drogo, and she wanted to help.

The problem is, despite her dragons and her military power, she is absolutely the wrong type of person to lead a revolution. 

This is actually a quote from my sister, we were talking and she said “Dany is the kind of person who believes in a better world, but can’t see that she’s not the one who can bring that world into being.” 

Dany was raised by an insanely scary brother who constantly went off about his rightful claim to the throne and their noble family history. The only adults in her life were the kind of Targaryen loyalists who wanted to see the precious heirs safe, or else the kind of people who thought they could get something out of Viserys and repeated his own bullshit back to him. 

This has all clearly sunk into Dany; despite the fact that she started the incredibly huge political project of ending slavery, something that will require years YEARS of work, she still constantly wants to go off to Westeros and rule because she believes it’s her right. She’s also got a huge self myth about herself as a queen, and what that means, versus an interest in being a leader. 

I’m not a politician, I’m a queen. 

She likes to command, demand, pull the whole fire and blood thing. This all comes from her upbringing, from her understanding of who the Targaryens were and what they conquered/deserved.

Her status as someone from an old Westerosi house also means that she has a tendency to trust the rich and well named, especially rich people from Westeros, waaaaay more than she should. Trusting Tyrion, for example, is a huge huge error. Especially, again, given that she’s attempting the truly revolutionary project of ending fucking slavery. Tyrion is part of an old rich house, part of an old rich system. He is from a culture that does not have slavery, but he is still from a culture with a HIGHLY stratified class system. Fundamentally, he’s got more in common with the slavers than the slaves. Which is why he listens to the slavers, why he comes up with the oh so reasonable compromise of phasing slavery out over several years, and why he gives the slavers HUMAN BEINGS as presents to seal the deal.

One of the most interesting scenes in the entire series for me is the bit directly after Tyrion makes this deal, when we see Missandei and Grey Worm’s reaction to it. They are horrified. 

Because the ones with a real read on this situation, the ones Dany should let have more input, are absolutely Missandei and Grey Worm. They are the two people the former slaves look to most when they have questions. They are seen as leaders by Dany’s base in the city, the formerly enslaved peoples. They are the ones who have suffered under the hands of this system, who know that it is not wise to make “reasonable compromises” with the kind of people willing to own human beings. The kind of person willing to buy and sell people will always try to take advantage, there is nothing to which they won’t sink. You don’t use them, they use you.

Yet Missandei and Grey Worm’s power is largely often ceremonial. Dany makes a lot of her real big choices listening to people like Jorah, like Tyrion. People from old Westerosi houses. Because she’s been raised to value that kind of power.

Dany’s whole plotline; her freeing slaves quickly without a plan, then letting the slavers into her ear, letting them take back some control, and ultimately leaving the situation in a whole mess to gain more personal power, is a great example of why top-down revolutions, revolutions where a wealthy savior wants to free/help the less fortunate, do not generally work out. 

For a revolution to stick, for it’s ideas to stick, it needs to be led by those from below, people who are fully invested, people who understand the monstrosities of the system. People like Missandei and Grey Worm.

That whole scene where Dany talks to Tyrion about breaking the wheel is also super interesting to me. Because...they are both part of the wheel. And as long as Dany’s goal is still to rule, and Tyrion’s goal is to help her, they aren’t going to break that thing. That wheel won’t break until monastic power, until rule by a few families, ends, and that’s not really Dany’s goal. Because she wants to rule. And her family is part of the wheel. 

Again...all of these poltical questions are important. We live under a system where the few, the very rich, rule us. This power is often inherited (because money is often inherited.) Some of them say they want to help...but ultimately nothing really changes. 

And there’s a pretty recent example in world history of slavery ending, but politicians failing to root the perpetrators of that system out of power. Letting those people stay in power, letting them use influence and take advantage, led to slavery essentially returning in a different form (hello 13th amendment of the US Constitution!) So it’s an important thing to explore through fiction.

I kind of thought all this was going to come to a head, especially with Missandei and Grey Worm. Dany clearly trusts them with some power, but she lets Westerosi advisors like Tyrion make more and more of her decisions. The whole plotline with Missendei and Grey Worm is them moving past their trauma and becoming more self-actualized people. I thought they’d start to challenge Dany. I thought maybe they’d take issue with Dany’s desire for power at any cost, especially use of the Dothraki, who famously take and sell slaves. I thought they’d take issue with Dany wanting to leave  for Westeros at all, with leaving the slaves of Mereen in such a desperate, hopeless situation. I thought maybe the show would highlight how becoming more folded into the powers that be in Westeros and ignoring the downtrodden people she met in Essos led to her downfall. It certainly seemed to be heading that way.

But then...Missandei and Grey Worm were relegated fully to the background. They don’t differ with Dany on anything at all in the last half of the series. Issues were raised with how Dany was approaching power, but most of these were centered around her individually being a bad person, having the “Targaryen madness,” not with her being part of a system that sees rule by a few powerful families as just and right. It’s just all a problem of one person being insane and power hungry! Not a problem of systems!

And then a member of another house on the wheel takes control at the end, but he’s from the Good House...so it’s framed as a win!

Political Question Three: What happens when the rich ignore the poor / What happens when religious movements redirect class consciousness? 

This is one I really really wanted the series to get more into. The smallfolk are often talked about and seen in the background as the true victims in the wars that tear through Westeros. They suffer and starve and die because of things they had absolutely no say in, so a few people they’ll never meet can have a little power. And this tension between the poor and the rich was building throughout the series; the smallfolk were getting pissed the fuck off. That riot in King’s Landing where the poor literally tear the septon to pieces still gives me chills. 

And we finally, finally started to see this start to come to a head with the Sparrows. I think it’s really interesting that they chose to use a religious movement. Religious grifters often do swoop in during moments of desperation and steal the energy / direct people away from class consciousness to build their own power. And the poor are so desperate for something anything different that it becomes easy for these grifters to thrive. 

And the High Sparrow is this kind of religious grifter to his bones. It’s very interesting to me that when we finally learn his backstory, he wasn’t truly poor. He was a merchant, and one doing pretty okay. If Westeros had an emerging middle class, he was part of it. He wasn’t the lowest of the low in Flea Bottom; Gendry for example was likely worse off. But the Sparrow presents himself as of the poor, part of the poor, truly one of the people, and because of this he is able to build a shitton of power very quickly from smallfolk who are fed up with all the bullshit and want to see something anything done about it.

And I was very interested in this! Again, this is a good political problem to discuss; religious movements and charismatic grifters build power all the time by telling people that really they’re unhappy because of “these sinners or outsiders” and not because of the larger systemic issues. A LOT OF THAT has been happening lately. 

Like this was the moment that the political scheming of people like Cersei and her absolute lack of interest in helping the people she’d supposedly ruling should have come home to roost. I was interested to see what would happen; how that tension would be resolved, IF that tension could be resolved.

And then...Cersei just blows up the Sept of Baelor and apparently every single member of the reactionary religious movement was inside of it because it’s never really brought up again. 

There are no riots, no anger from the smallfolk at her destroying both the major religious figures AND the major religious site for a large chunk of Westeros. People still gladly flock to Cersei when Dany shows up with dragons, even though they KNOW Cersei is very willing to blow people up. It’s just..all dropped. Cersei spends the next several seasons drinking wine and wearing spiky dresses. 

Granted, there were a few big political issues that D&D still tried to discuss through the end but uhh...I don’t think they did very well. For example - 

They Tried! #1 - White Walkers = Climate Change and the Uselessness of the System as Usual in the Face of Existential Threats

So I do think D&D were kind of going for this a little bit, and it was certainly discussed a lot in all the blogs and meta posts leading up to season 8. And there was a lot of talk, especially in season 7, about how silly the petty political differences between Cersei and Dany were in the face of such a threat.

But the fact that the White Walkers were destroyed relatively easily all things considered, without fundamentally changing the existing power dynamic, without being forced to resolve the differences between Dany and Cersei...kind of ruins this whole parallel. Jon’s been saying throughout the whole series that they needed to fully unite to defeat the threat but uhh...they didn’t unite with Cersei and they still won so I guess it was all good! 

Don’t worry guys, we don’t need to fundamentally approach politics differently to deal with climate change, lets just go to Antartica and stab the carbon emissions monster in the heart!

And the fact that ultimately the main battle of the series, the finale of the series, was focused on the various ruling houses opposing each other...kind of ends up saying that the most important thing really is the petty politics after all. 

Well that’s a bad message!

They Tried! #2 - Dany the Imperialist

Now of all the political messages D&D were trying to get across in the series, I am absolutely 100% certain this one was intentional. They were trying to draw parallels between Dany and modern imperial regimes, specifically the US. 

It’s all over that last script, explicitly. The dragons have frequently been portrayed as weapons of mass destruction, nuclear weapons, and in the script here there is an explicit connection between the destruction of King’s Landing and Hiroshima, an atrocity committed by the US. In the finale script, they also use the phrase “they burned the village in order to save it” which is a famous quote from a US general regarding the destruction of a Vietnamese village by American troops during the Vietnam War. 

And Tyrion’s whole speech about Dany destroying evil men looking great from afar but horrible when you’re on the ground / closer to the reality of it has clear US parallels. The US often uses humanitarian justifications for war (taking out dictators, spreading democracy, etc) and does not much care about the atrocities the actual human beings who live in those countries face when their countries are torn apart by war (Afghanistan and Iraq are prime examples of this.)

They are very very clearly trying to make this parallel. To make a political point about how imperialism is bad. But Jesus Christ, it’s so muddled. 

For one, it’s uhhh not great that the perpetrators of these atrocities are largely non-white and the victims are members of a culture that closely parallels western Europe. Given that the way the last several hundred years have played out...it’s usually been the other way around. This shows a lack of care in D&D’s part in truly wrestling with this topic, a lack of interest in really dealing with real world politics and history. Just no interest exploring how imperialism and white supremacy, how the idea that “we come from a ‘superior culture’ so clearly we know what’s best and can go around the world doing as we please” are INCREDIBLY linked.

For two...it’s mostly just Dany that’s the problem. Jon doesn’t want to destroy King’s Landing, Varys doesn’t, Tyrion doesn’t. Grey Worm does, but he’s barely a character at this point in the story. They all give her like, a million outs. Especially the bells. And those bells ring, the battle is won, but Dany decides to go on her murder rampage anyway. 

The problem isn’t a system, it’s one person who has “the madness!” It’s one person being a psychotic dictator, and all the problems are solved when that person gets stabbed. 

Which is absolutely not how it works in real life. We didn’t just go to war in Afghanistan in Iraq because George Bush was a bad person. If we had, we would have been out when Obama got into office. The US went to war in those countries because of a giant system of war and profit, a system that benefits many many people, that has been built over the past several generations. The US went to war in Afghanistan and Iraq, and stayed there, because weapons contractors wanted to be there so they could make money. Because oil companies and heavy mineral companies wanted the resources those countries had. Because the military itself has a huge amount influence over the government, and to justify their massive budget and continued influence they need to have things to do. The Afghanistan War continues loooong after the death of Osama Bin Laden because of a whole web of CEOs and lobbyists and generals and politicians, all of whom benefit from it. The problem is not one person. It’s a fundamental flaw in how the system is set up. How it rewards those who can buy influence. 

And it’s so so clear to me that D&D do not understand this. Like...even a little. They don’t think in terms of systems, just good people and bad people. That’s why the end of the series, which is still a fucking monarchy, is framed positively. Because it’s not the system of power that’s the problem, it’s just that bad people were in charge! But now the good people are in charge, so it’s all good!

They like talking about the tragedy of war, like referencing historical atrocities in scripts, like talking about how deep it all is. They love to talk about how they wanted to create a fantasy series grounded not in magic, but political reality. But they have no understanding of political reality beyond the most basic basic shit. Like war is bad dontcha know! Yeah, no shit!

So these two messed up the characters, they messed up the fantasy, but they also messed up the part they claimed to care about most, the politics. Because they’re dumbshits. 

Jesus this got long. If you read all this, thank you for listening to the ramblings I wrote while I should be working. 

[lillianfromaccounting]

Finally getting around to this!

Was tagged by @cenobitic-anchorite (thank you!)

Putting this under a read more, because I wrote a lot.

1. What is your favorite movie? My answer to this is always Sleeping Beauty because it was the first movie that I stayed up watching with no adults. Like I must have been around 7 and my older cousin was 12 and we stayed up watching it after all the adults went to sleep. So for me, it signified some sort of independence. (On another note, that same cousin and I also stayed up to watch Pretty Woman before I realized what was going on in that movie.)

I know sometimes it’s a cop out answer, because I really can’t pick a favorite live action movie. There’s too many and I love a lot of them. Also, usually, when I say Sleeping Beauty, based on the other person’s reaction, I can tell if they’ll be compatible and/or get my vibe or not.

2.  If you had to drastically change your hair, how would you cut it and what color would you dye it?  I want rainbow hair, but I can’t have that where I work. I’ve been saying I’ve wanted to dye it red for several months now, but haven’t made the appointment yet (long story, but also mostly me dragging my feet). I’ve ALWAYS wanted a pixie cut, but have always been told that my face shape isn’t good for it (I did it senior year of college and there were people who flat out told me never to get that hair cut again). I’ll do it again, when I feel like I have the energy to maintain it.

3.  Can you drive a manual transmission car? lol, no. I can just barely drive an automatic. (Fact: I got my license at age 23 and didn’t regularly drive until 32.)

4.  What’s your favorite thing to cook or bake? Why? Is there a word limit to this? Cuz we’ll be here a few days. lol Favorite thing to bake is scones because I love scones. I also love to bake pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. And anything with a short pastry, so pies, tarts. I LOVE making sweet danishes. Oh crumb cakes. Oooh it’s season for fresh cranberries. I make a really good cranberry lime crumb cake. Cake, in just about every variation (rounds, sheet, cup, etc.) I like these because they’re delicious (and very few bakeries make them well, and I’m a dessert snob. If I’m eating it, it better be worth the calories. I’m also very particular about my cake to frosting/crumb ratio). Also, fact: I suck at baking regular cookies. I can do it, but they never look right and I’m pretty sure I’m screwing up the ratio of dry to wet ingredients or the butter’s not cold enough or something, but yeah, my cookies always look seriously deformed. (yes, I’ve seen that chart that troubleshoots cookies. No, it hasn’t helped.)

Favorite thing to cook. Hm... go to comfort stuff: penne vodka, but really, I like trying new recipes.

5.  How old were you when you got your ears pierced (if your ears aren’t pierced, do you want to get them pierced? The first time I got my ears pierced, I think I was in 8th grade, so 13-ish. After the initial however long it was that you’re supposed to keep them in, I got lazy so I didn’t keep earrings in all the time (and they hurt my ears), so the holes apparently closed. I got them re-pierced in sophomore or junior year of high school and again, after a little while, they closed again. I was thinking about getting them re-pierced again.

6.  Do you like Thanksgiving? Why or why not? I LOVE Thanksgiving. Yes, the historical aspect can go to hell, but personally, I love Thanksgiving. So growing up, being Chinese, we never celebrated American Thanksgiving. When I was about 13, I got a bread making book from the Scholastic book fair and discovered that we had a working oven (Chinese people don’t cook with ovens. We have a wok and a rice cooker. That’s really all you need.). Anyway, I started baking bread and it was amazing.

Also, our local supermarket would do the holiday promotion of if you spend $X, you can get a free holiday protein, and being a household of 8 (sometimes 10), we hit that spending threshold very, very quickly. So one year, I told my mom that we’re getting a turkey, instead of the ham that she likes. She was skeptical, but I was hell bent on celebrating American Thanksgiving and figuring out what this whole turkey hoopla was about.

I started cooking a Thanksgiving feast for my family (immediate and extended) from the age of 14. I did a sticky rice stuffing in the bird. Mashed sweet potatoes (no marshmallow. it’s sweet enough by itself.) I always made a lasagna (with cheese from DiPalo’s, where I would wait hours on line for our order) or another pasta dish. We did Chinese vegetables. And every year, we would pick new recipes we’d want to try. By ‘we’, I mean me. I would pick new recipes that I’d want to try and my three younger siblings would be obligatory sous chefs. And since bread baking happened in the wee early hours of the morning, we would have it for breakfast. So then I expanded the menu to include breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It became an all day thing and I was (and still am) obsessed.

Oh, it probably also helped to know that I come from a very large extended family and everyone would come through our house during holidays. Usually, it’s because my family hosted the mah jong parties, so we were kinda party central. My biggest Thanksgiving, we had about 50 people cycle through the house that day, so I had to make sure I had food enough for 50 people. Growing up, I’m pretty sure we never had less than 30. (It’s been a shock for me these past several years when we’ve hosted less than 20 people on turkey day.)

Then, my siblings would find recipes that they want to try, and Thanksgiving was this day where we would try food. Not all the recipes worked out, but no one ever got sick or food poisoning (oh man, I have stories from adjacent family members). But yeah. It’s an insane production and I love every minute of it (especially since my mom did the clean up, because bless that woman, she messed up Jiffy corn bread mix when she tried to bake, so she sticks to cleaning).

Anyway, after I got married, I demanded Thanksgiving, which my in-laws didn’t care about because they were getting it catered anyway. But I found out the hard way that they’ve sucked the soul out of my Thanksgiving festivities. One person demanded Stove Top (over fresh sausage dressing?!??!!). Fine. Another prefers roasted turkey (as opposed to smoked or fried). Year after year, they keep telling me to make less food, because they don’t enjoy watching me cook (they think I work too hard, but they also don’t understand that I’m having the time of my life).

At this point, I know that in order to get back to the Thanksgiving that I want to celebrate, it will be after that generation has passed. It’s fine.

I used to start planning my Thanksgiving menu in March, studying recipes and picking and choosing stuff up until like two weeks before hand. Ever since the kids came along, that excitement has also waned. But I’m excited for this year. There will be apple cider mimosas. And I’m roasting a savory pumpkin. And there will be artichokes. Oh and one of my good friends went to Dominique Ansel Kitchen’s pie night this year and had a poached pear chocolate pie that she said was divine. I am attempting to recreate it based on her descriptions of the textures and her pictures. This is what I live for.

(where the fuck is that barney stinson challenge accepted gif when you need it?)

and yes, this year will be my 24th year cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

7.  If you could live in the world of one film, which one would you pick? Oh man. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Ok, I lied. I do have a favorite live action movie. I wish I had a more creative answer to this. Yeah, Harry Potter’s world would be cool. Yeah, I identify with hobbits. Any of the Star Treks would also be good in terms of universes. But I want Adam Banks to teach (13-14 year old) me how to ice skate.

8.  What kind of pet have you never had, but have always wanted? lol one of my bffs and I always wanted a baby panda.

9.  If you won the huge lottery, what would be the first 3 things you’d do?Get a good fucking lawyer, set up a shell foundation so it’s not listed in mine or my husband’s name, prepare to disappear after a couple of years of acting normal. Then, for the more fun three, pay off debt, travel, get a house somewhere the fuck else.

Ceno’s answer was too perfect, so I left it, mainly because I’d pretty much do the same. I’d buy my parents a new house and hire a chauffeur for them. Also @katiekeysburg will get a chauffeur. And I’d throw money at teleportation research. And fund a bunch of gofundmes.

10.  Have you ever gotten a tattoo? What is it? If you haven’t, do you want one? I do not have any but I’ve always wanted one of my Chinese name above my ankle and I’ve always wanted the pi character somewhere (debated various locations). One day, when I get the guts to. (and when it’s seasonally appropriate to get one above my ankle, cuz omg I never knew about the various care required while it heals.)

11.  What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? hahaha um. Probably calling the cops on an online friend who I thought was going to kill himself, but he really wasn’t (but I didn’t know that). (hey kids, don’t put your addresses in your aol profiles--yes I’m ancient.) actually, I’ve done my share to stupid aol/online shit. it will probably come back to haunt me if i ever run for public office or marry a celebrity.

Ok, real stupid thing. I’m a severe klutz, and one time I walked off a raised cement slab (like the kind that statues would sit on) and sprained my ankle. It was probably 3 inches off the ground on the side that I got on it, but it was further off the ground on the other side, so when I got off the slab, I misjudged where to put my foot and I rolled my ankle. Ended up at the ER and they put me in a soft cast. I had to have crutches to get around campus and this one guy who I don’t even know his name, picked me up and carried me up the campus hill (we had a really big hill), and it was against my consent. I did NOT want him to pick me up. It was terrible. Anyway, I rolled my ankle by walking. I have tons of stupid shit. How much time you got?

I was also pretty pretentious when I was younger. (I might still be. I’m not as self aware as I wish to be.) I once asked an Italian friend to try my tomato sauce and asked him what was missing because it didn’t taste right. (I know. I was so gross. You learn from your own grossness though.)

What other stupidity? I fawned over boys. My bff gave me a copy of The Giving Tree in college (I had never read it before) as a metaphor of how much of myself I gave to this toxic dude. I sobbed reading it for the first time.

In hindsight, not getting my license at 17 was a pretty stupid move too. But that also had to do with life circumstances.

OH. Turning down an interview for an internship with my dream company at the time, because I had already accepted an internship position with another company.

Trying to explain to my MBA ethics class how my industry worked only to get it mansplained back to me (pretty stupid of me to have tried in the first place).

Going for my MBA was also a pretty stupid move in the holistic view of my life.

12.  Have you accomplished your New Year’s Resolution for 2018? I honestly don’t remember if I even made resolutions, so I’m going to say hard no.

13.  If you could get any degree from any school, free of charge, what would you pick? Criminal Psychology. Ceno, we can go to school together! (this reminds me I need to catch up on last week’s Criminal Minds) Another option would be anything in the forensics sciences. I would also like to learn massage therapy. And I want to take that artisan bread breaking course at the Institute of Culinary Education.

I forget how many people I’m supposed to tag. @katiekeysburg @daisyjm75 @steverogersnotebook