#im so happy they are revisiting good old memories too! thank you so much for seeing that!! i love how you describe it!! ;;w;;

[pridepoisoned]

(ooc. Good morning!! If you're reading this, I've officially turned 29!! Happy birthday to me. 🥳

Today is extra meaningful for me because it also marks my 10th year RPing on this site! Recently, I've been taking the time to look back at my old blogs, threads and posts, and it's been a very bittersweet, reflective experience. So much has changed [both on and offline] since I timidly applied to my first closed group in 2013, and again when I took a chance and jumped blindly into the indie scene in early 2020. So many inactive/deactivated blogs and sadly unfinished threads, but--at the same time--so many great writing memories to revisit, and it's always awesome to see returning friends/muses!

This is going to sound weird coming from this blog specifically, but if I've written with or for you, or even if we have yet to interact but you've read my writing while scrolling through the dash, I hope you've enjoyed it! I know I tend to move at a slower pace and write a lot (like this lol), and I also really apologize for being so hard to reach via IM or DIscord at times--sometimes I just burn out because of my schedule, and I'll admit that I'm still trying to get over some lingering nervousness caused by a particularly toxic ooc interaction years ago...but I truly appreciate every message, have enjoyed every convo, and I feel like I'm slowly coming out of my shell again and finding balance. Thanks so much as always to the thread partners and others who have shown interest in my muses--if you're reading this, know that I am always down to interact or spin a story together on any of them! Let's do it!

It's Year 29/10, and I can't promise more activity here--life is changing too fast--but I can say that I'll continue to stay true in writing my unapologetically good and evil muses, while being as supportive/positive as I can OOC. Good vibes, and let's keep growing together--I can't wait to see what fresh adventures are around the corner ✌️)

[glimmerglanger]

Oof!au prompt!!! Listen, someone had to ask for this: Cody and Obi-Wan's REAL first time! :O

Anonymous said:

Early spicy Sunday request for some Cody/Obi Wan from the ooof!AU <3 I just want them to be happy :,))

Anonymous said:

can I request a spicy codywan oof!au snippet of their first time? I just want them to be happy so bad

Anonymous said:

I hope this is ok to ask, what’s the plan for the oof au prompt of their first time? I totally understand if you’re not working on old stuff right now because of work, swbb, prompts and whatnot! Im only curious if you plan on finishing it one day. Please don’t take this as me pressuring or demanding from you! I just want to know if I should shelve my excitement for a little while and bring it out later or drop it if you don’t feel like revisiting it. Thanks!

GUESS WHAT I FINALLY FINISHED. I’ve been picking away at this for a while (obviously) but I have wrapped it up! 

As a reminder, since it’s been a while, there was a lot of torture in the oof!au. They’re well on the road to recovery in this fic (it’s far after Obi-Wan made his new lightsaber and got his prosthetic arm, for example) but there are still mentions of past torture and the fallout of both mind control and non-con.

ALSO this is spicy! VERY spicy! Not safe for wizards! 

~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan slept better with someone beside him. He wondered, sometimes, if that had always been true and he’d just never had the opportunity to find out, before… Everything that happened. There was no way to go back in time to find out, so he left the consideration go, released it from his mind.

He focused on enjoying, instead, the safety of the present. He woke, most days, with Cody pressed close to him. He’d mentioned, only once, that Cody did not always have to sleep between him and the door - if their sleeping area happened to have a door - and Cody had just looked at him, expression hard and flat.

Obi-Wan let that go, too.

The mind healers had helped them so much, but there were some things they could not change, some reassurances that they held onto.

Cody slept better with Obi-Wan against a wall, or tucked into a corner. Defensible. Obi-Wan slept better with Cody’s warm presence close. That was just...how it was.

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open on the Recompense because he was not sleeping well at all, his dreams troubled. And so, perhaps, it was not much of a surprise to find that Cody was not all warm and relaxed against him. Instead, Cody was tense, half-drawn away from him.

“Mm?” Obi-Wan mumbled, not fully awake. He rolled, moving to press back into Cody’s warmth even as Cody put a hand on his hip, squeezing, perhaps trying to catch him back. It did not work. There wasn’t enough room in their little bunk for it to work and their bodies so naturally gravitated towards one another.

Obi-Wan settled against him, and Cody made a ragged little sound, and then rasped out, “Sorry.”

Obi-Wan blinked, but even through the haze of exhaustion it was not difficult to determine what he was talking about. Cody was hard against his hip, which was… a surprise not as rare as it had once been.

It had taken time - and lengthy discussions with the mind healers - to reach that point. Cody still seemed startled when he hardened and, sometimes, apologized, though Obi-Wan had thought they were past that. He shook his head, squirming closer, and said, “You don’t need to be sorry. I like it.”

Cody exhaled, ragged. Obi-Wan felt it against his neck, the back of his head. Cody said, voice still tense, though, at least, he had not climbed from the bed, “But you were asleep.”

“So were you,” Obi-Wan pointed out, reaching up and covering Cody’s hand with his. 

Cody relaxed, just a little. He asked, “You really don’t...mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Obi-Wan confirmed, briefly regretful that the conversation was waking him up fully. He squeezed Cody’s fingers and pushed back a little more, with full intent to press against the hardness still brushing the curve of his ass. He repeated, because Cody always eased when he heard it, “I like it. I like when you touch me.”

Cody’s grip tightened again, but he did not feel worried, not through the Force. His emotions slid over into something else as he shifted, responding to the pressure and then going still again, pressing his face against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan shifted, just a little, and said, “I’d like to help you with that.”

Cody groaned, faintly, against his skin, and then said, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Which...meant he was almost certainly thinking about intercourse. About fucking Obi-Wan. These days, he only worried about hurting Obi-Wan in that context. They’d never even attempted it, because the idea worried him so.

They’d made so much progress. Cody did not worry about it every time they were intimate, not when they touched one another, not even when Obi-Wan went to his knees and slid his mouth down Cody’s cock.

Obi-Wan had thought they’d gotten past the last of the worries about doing harm during intercourse, after Cody had broached the idea of them fucking, after Obi-Wan had worked him open slowly and carefully slid into him, letting them both find their pleasure.

But, afterwards, Cody had been agitated, had risen from the bed and said, almost gutted, “There wasn’t any blood,” and seemed guilty about it, and--

They’d spent a lot of time at the mind healers over that, dealing with Cody’s reaction to the fact that Obi-Wan had not hurt him at all, that it did not have to hurt--

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that not everyone had...past experience with torture. It was hardly the first time someone had tried to break Obi-Wan apart, using whatever means necessary. But it was not the same for his men. For Cody.

“I know you won’t,” Obi-Wan said, quietly, setting aside the past. He added, when Cody said nothing, “I know you’d make me feel good, Cody.” And, when Cody pulled him around, making a rough sound, Obi-Wan kissed his mouth and curled an arm around him. And they did nothing but rock against each other, Cody eventually sliding a hand into his sleeping pants, but the conversation hung at the back of Obi-Wan’s mind in the days that followed.

#

The conversation was still there, lingering in his thoughts, days later, when they returned to their quarters, showered off, and Cody said, in the process of drying off, “Would you like me to - to do that?”

Obi-Wan blinked over at him, water chilling his skin, and asked, “Do what?”

Cody clenched his jaw and then blew out a breath through his nose. “Be inside you. The way--you’ve done it. For me.” He looked up, before Obi-Wan could reply, eyes dark and wide, intent. “I wouldn’t--I’d make sure it didn’t hurt. I promise. I wouldn’t--”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said, soft, touching his hand. Cody’s shoulders had tensed up, a muscle in his jaw jumping, over and over again. Cody kept eye contact, and Obi-Wan shifted just a little closer, continuing. “And yes. I’d like that. Whenever you’re ready.” 

Cody rocked his jaw, side to side, and asked, “Are you...ready?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I trust you,” he said, and watched Cody tense even further.

He tugged, just a little, on Cody’s shoulder, and Cody shifted into his space, curled an arm around him, just….held him, tension eventually easing from him, touching with more intention, until Obi-Wan was pressed against the wall, gasping up to the ceiling as Cody slid down, mouth hot and wet and good, already more than Obi-Wan had ever thought they’d get to have.

#

When Cody finally decided he was ready, Obi-Wan thought it was not so much motivated solely by desire. There was far too much determination in Cody’s expression, when he pulled away from a kiss, both of them laying on their sides, curled towards one another, Cody’s hand still around Obi-Wan’s recently spent cock.

He’d pushed aside Obi-Wan’s hand, every time Obi-Wan tried to touch him in return, which made more sense when he rasped, ragged, “Can I--can we--could I be inside you?” 

Obi-Wan nodded, gut tightening at the thought, and managed to answer; the mind healers had reminded him, often, that he needed to speak his feelings more, “Yes, Cody. Please.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Cody said, and there was a promise and a certainty there, that Obi-Wan had thought they’d never get to again. There’d been a time Cody had seemed convinced that he would be unable to avoid causing hurt and pain. 

Now he spoke the words like a vow, sealing them with a kiss that left Obi-Wan groaning, holding onto him. 

They’d done this often enough the other way around that Cody seemed confident about the steps that ought to come next. Obi-Wan shifted onto his back, unsurprised when Cody settled beside him, leaning over to kiss him once more.

Cody still shied away from being over him, most of the time. 

Obi-Wan shifted, gasping when Cody ran a hand down his stomach, hesitating for only a moment before sliding his touch further down. “That’s nice,” Obi-Wan managed to pant out, at the first brush of pressure, and--

--and he’d wanted, for longer than he cared to think about, to erase away the memories of what Anakin had done. He’d wanted to replace them with something else, to push them back and away, as he’d done--

But it hadn’t been up only to him. And the thought of rushing Cody into something he wasn’t ready to do would have been beyond consideration. Cody pushed up onto his elbow, eyes impossibly focused on Obi-Wan’s expression as he slid slick fingers over skin, carefully, cautiously, sliding the tip of one finger inside, and--

Obi-Wan groaned, tilting his hips up and into the touch, Cody rasping, “It’s--?”

“Good,” Obi-Wan reassured him, and fought the urge to close his eyes or look away. He could feel, pouring out of Cody’s head, how much he needed...this. Needed to look and see, to watch Obi-Wan’s eyes while he moved his hand, going so slow that it became a tease, that it had Obi-Wan squirming on the bed, skin growing over-hot, his cock - impossibly - hardening again.

Cody made a low sound when he glanced down Obi-Wan’s body and noticed, and Obi-Wan panted, “See? I told you it was good.”

“Force,” Cody swore, and bent to kiss him, moving his hand a little faster, still only two fingers in and--and Obi-Wan wondered if he planned to stretch preparation until morning, and groaned at the thought, shifting to meet each movement of Cody’s touch, tangling fingers into his hair, breathing unsteadily as Cody shifted to get his other hand on Obi-Wan’s cock, stroking--

In the end, they did not make it until morning. Obi-Wan could take no more, eventually, heels sliding across the blankets as his body thrummed and he panted out, “Cody, oh--”

Cody paused, hand just going still, fingers sunk in deep, pressed against the spot that made Obi-Wan ache, that had his back bowing up without his instruction at the prolonged pressure, spots going off behind his eyes and--

He’d been on edge for so long. Falling over it felt like a relief, even if there was guilt, too, that Cody had not come once. Cody did not seem offended, when Obi-Wan shook himself, blinking aside the pleasure, the dizzy warmth moving through his veins.

Cody looked...surprised, but satisfied, the way he’d ever looked after a victory hard fought. And seeing that expression on his face in their bed made Obi-Wan groan, unexpectedly, shivering all down his back.

“That felt good for you,” Cody said, not like a question, and Obi-Wan nodded anyway. 

“Yes,” he rasped, “very much so.”

Cody stared at him, for a beat, breathing raggedly, and then said, “Should--can I….?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan muffled the sound that rose in his throat when Cody slid his fingers free - almost too fast - and then Cody was hesitating, for the first time, looking over him with a little furrow forming on his brow and--

“Roll over,” Obi-Wan advised, because he felt loose and half-dizzy and he wanted.

He noted the relief on Cody’s expression, even as Cody rolled onto his back, the blankets tangled all around him, muscles shifting in his chest as he reached for Obi-Wan, his breath punching out when Obi-Wan threw a leg over his hips.

Obi-Wan braced a hand on Cody’s chest and reached his other hand down, curling his fingers around Cody’s cock, and asking, meeting his eyes, “You want this?”

For a moment, Cody only stared up at him, mouth open but speechless. And then he nodded, his hands curled into the blankets, clenching so hard his knuckles stood up against his skin. Obi-Wan waited, a beat, until he ground out, “I want you, Obi-Wan, please.”

Obi-Wan nodded, shifted, and sank back. 

And there was a flash, unavoidable, of the memory of metal under his cheek, hands gripping at him, hard and cruel, a dry shove in and pain and--

And Obi-Wan exhaled, grounding himself in the present, in Cody’s warm skin under his palm, the dazed expression on Cody’s face, the warmth of their room, their bed, their love. He grounded himself in all the memories they’d built, the other times they’d touched, the steady, blinding affection he felt from Cody, every day. The knowledge, sure as the Force itself, that Cody wouldn’t hurt him.

“Oh,” Cody gasped, hands rising jerkily off of the sheets, fingers flexing at nothing, before finally settling, feather soft, on Obi-Wan’s hips as he sank down and down and down, until there was nothing between them. “Oh, oh, Force.”

Obi-Wan felt his mouth quirk up, Cody’s stunned pleasure vibrating around them, adding to his own, still thrumming inside his veins. 

“You feel good,” Obi-Wan told him, rising slowly and sinking back, seeing no reason to rush and, anyway, he felt thoroughly wrung out, already. Cody made a thick sound, meeting his eyes again, holding his gaze as Obi-Wan added, “So good inside me, Cody.”

The sound Cody made was inarticulate. Obi-Wan could feel the tension in his hands, in his fingers, but he did not squeeze or grip, just kept his touch resting against Obi-Wan’s skin, kept staring, expression hungry, the muscle under Obi-Wan’s hand tensing a bit more with each slow movement Obi-Wan made, until Cody’s hips shifted, finally, up to meet him.

Cody froze, all over, at the little sound Obi-Wan made, eyes getting wider, mouth opening, and Obi-Wan blurted, before there could be a misunderstanding, “That’s--that’s good. Feels good, you could--do that again.”

“Yeah?” Cody asked, expression so intent, and Obi-Wan managed to nod, groaning again when Cody repeated the thrust upwards. He picked up the rhythm quickly, must have gotten his feet flat on the bed to get the leverage for it, making shocked, pleasure-dazed sounds that grew rapidly more ragged.

And it was not much of a surprise when Cody rocked up into him one last time and came with a sound that was almost startled. Obi-Wan shivered at the feeling - it had been… a long time since he’d experienced it - and expected Cody to collapse fully against the mattress.

Instead, Cody made a shivery sound and sat up, all at once, arm curling around Obi-Wan’s back, keeping him close as Cody pressed a kiss to his cheek and then his mouth, breath unsteady and hitching. “Did that--are you--”

“It was so good,” Obi-Wan told him, curling a hand around the back of his neck, skin hot, the tips of his hair damp with sweat. “So good, darling.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” Cody asked, against his mouth, and the change in position had slid him free, already. Obi-Wan was aware of the mess he was making all over Cody’s thighs, but Cody seemed not to mind, and--

“Not at all,” Obi-Wan reassured, and Cody made a choking sound, dropping his head to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and - and Obi-Wan crooned to him, nonsense words, when his shoulders started to shake, as he made wet, gasping sounds. “I knew you wouldn’t,” Obi-Wan said, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You never would.”

[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.

[op-peccatori]

a little gift | MLQC Lucien (nsfw)

Happy Birthday, Lucien! a tad later than planned, but here’s the promised birthday sex from my invitation XD Let me know what you think!

Fandom: Mr Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Reader/Lucien

Rating: 18+ 

Wordcount: 5200

Summary: It’s Lucien’s birthday and you’ve got a wonderful trip planned for him  – along with an extra gift he isn’t expecting.

Warnings: explicit sex (vaginal & anal), mild masturbation, birthday sex, sex toys, established relationship

author fact: I spent so much time sitting in one place as I wrote this that my butt too, was aching by the end of it. this is the first time I’ve ever written anything involving butts, so please let me know if it’s...right?

a/n: im gonna have to come edit this once i get some sleep. i forgot how to spell laugh. 

A bite of cake and a sip of wine, with a familiar warmth nestled into his side: Lucien is dangerously content. 

Not for the first time, he thinks he will never give this up for anything in the world. He could never let go of the little surges of happiness brought on by the girl holding a forkful of cake up to his lips, and not the deep love flowing in his veins, keeping him alive. 

The second photo album you've ever given him rests beside the cake. The second roll. A collection of your memories. 

He can’t help the way he sneaks a kiss, helpless against your smiles, the way they curve your lips up even as they’re pressed to his. It makes him shudder when he feels your tongue flick against his lip, to tempt and to taste. He’s glad for the booth they’re hidden away in, that gives them enough privacy for him to lose himself for a moment. He lets the greed slip past, eager to take whatever you give it. Before the time comes when you might not get a chance.

He suppresses the heartache at the thought. There's no telling what the future holds. Danger still lurks in shadowed corners, and it's taught him fear. Not for himself, but for the one who holds his very being in her hands.

“You had some frosting there,” you murmur when you pull away, smile coy and eyes bright, fingers tracing a gentle path along his thigh. Never stepping a foot over the line, just toying with it. He wants to step over it with you, to fall over it, to fall into bed and wherever else you can and to taste you, the sweetest dessert, his lovely girl who just wants to give him a special birthday.

And you will, once you go away tomorrow, for the weekend. He remembers the way your face fell when he told you he has important meetings he can’t skip on the day of his birthday; it was subtle, but there is nothing he can miss when it comes to you. You both had to be content with brunch for today, as he would only get home at a late hour. 

“Is it going to be a tiring day for you?” you had asked, concern hiding a hint of something he can't quite identify. It would be just like you to wait up, to give him a goodnight kiss – you do it often since you haven’t had much time to yourselves for weeks. 

“Well, no. I’ll have to sit through a few meetings, review some of my colleagues’ work, but nothing too exhausting,” he had assured you. You haven’t mentioned anything about meeting him when he comes back, but he’s always had endless patience for you and your adorable tricks. He watches you as you eat carefully measured bites of cake, eyes lingering on the way you lick your lips, satisfied with the sugar and his company. He has never felt more thankful for birthdays when you let him feed you small bites with little protest and an endearing blush. It makes him think, makes him want to test boundaries. But he refuses to risk hurting you for the sake of his depraved curiosity. The time to part ways arrives all too soon, and your smile dims a little; for a moment, he seriously considers quitting his job.

“I can barely wait till tomorrow,” you mumble, arms would tight around his waist and forehead pressed into his chest. You stand outside the restaurant, packed cake in hand, waiting for the bus after you declined his offer to drop you home. He nuzzles the crown of your head, breathing in the faint scent of your favourite shampoo, closing his eyes in the face of your affection. “I want you all to myself.” 

Your words feel warm on his skin. “Me neither, darling. And you will. What time is the flight?” 

“8 am,” you answer, and again he senses something...off. Perhaps it’s the prospect of having to get up at 6 in the morning? You're not much of an early bird unless you're coaxed out of bed by the scent of breakfast. He still remembers the first time he stayed over vividly, and not just because of how soundly he slept next to you. You had to get up earlier than usual, for a meeting, and any ideas he'd had about a chirpy morning bird were shattered by the sight of your grumpy expression. It's a memory he likes to revisit when he's feeling dull; he had slipped into unexpected laughter, and you threw a pillow at him. Then he cuddled you until all thoughts of rage-texting Victor faded.

“Want me to come wake you up?” he asks after the brief jaunt down memory lane. He doesn’t bother trying to sound innocent; they both know if he wakes you up, it’ll be with his head between your legs. No danger of a grumpy ___ then. 

“...I’d like that,” you agree readily, smiling up at him. "I'm sure I'll need it. I've been so tired these days..." There's little sign of the shy desire that usually clouds your eyes when he suggests something so improper in public, even though he keeps his voice low. He would be hurt, but instead, there’s a shiver of anticipation running along his spine as you brush your lips against his, dancing away when he leans in. "Happy Birthday, Lu."

Just what is his little butterfly up to? 

The question sits in the back of his mind throughout the day, through each file he reads and every person presenting their research. He doesn’t exactly know where you’re taking him, but he has a few guesses, as you had insisted on packing not only his warmer jackets and thicker shoes, but also his swimming trunks. His thoughts race through ideas, drifting back to last month when he accidentally saw you scrolling through a cute little lingerie website.

'Oh.'

As he flips through the photos you took such care to preserve, he thinks that it's okay that he sees through most of your surprises. It doesn't lessen the delight they bring. He's eager to see what you picked out, what could have caught your fancy, and he hopes he gets to see it tomorrow. 

It will take him some time to admit it, but he didn’t expect what he really found waiting for him in his apartment. 

You look down at your collection, of new and old, with excitement curling along your mouth and a glass of water in hand. There’s some regret, for eating cake so early in the day when you have plans, but it's not like you could have skipped Lucien's birthday cake. Or even cake in general. You resisted where you could, and you think it'll be fine. You take a moment to fantasize about the sinful dessert sitting in your refrigerator before you get to work. It's 4:00 pm, which gives you plenty of time to work, but there's much to be done. 

You're trying really hard to refrain from calling Lucien. Your boyfriend's been getting melancholic again, and you've come up with just the thing to distract him on his birthday.

You shower thoroughly, shave your legs with care, scanning them in the mirror to make sure you haven't missed a spot, applying sweet-scented lotion liberally across the skin. Painful flashbacks of the Brazilian you got for today have you wincing, but you've been determined to live up to the image you painted in your head. Willow, who'd gone to get one too, treated you to ice-cream afterwards, saying it's a must after the first one. After some deliberation, you paint your nails a pearly white and decide to take a nap before you get to blow-drying your hair.

It's 6:00 by the time you scramble out of bed, fixing yourself a light dinner and texting Lucien to make sure he's eaten.

[6:03] Lu: Don't worry. Professor Collins ordered enough for the building. I suspect he feels some guilt for calling me in today.

[6:04] Y/n: I knew there was a reason I liked him! Btw, what time do you think you'll be home?

[6:06] Lu: I'll try to make it home by 12. Don't worry, I'll get up on time ;)

Mouth pursing at the reminder of his horrendous sleeping habits, you go back to your soup with a restless heart. The clock's ticking, and you're quick to finish washing the dishes, finish some last minute packing, and when there's no chore left to do, you head for your bedroom. You connect your phone to the Bluetooth speaker, settling on an upbeat song while you plug in the hairdryer. As you divide your hair into sections, you're nearly giddy with excitement. As far as you could observe, Lucien has no idea what you've got planned, and you're quite proud to have slipped this past him.

You put the device down once each strand of hair is smooth and shiny, warm to the touch. And then you undress, until you're completely bare, running your fingers over lace, giddiness giving way to trepidation. 

You're thankful there's a video on the website because there's no way you could've put on the set by yourself. 

As you tighten the garter belts around your thighs and adjust the lace collar, peering at your reflection in the mirror as you put on simple pearl studs, you decide that it's fine that it's not the most comfortable thing you've ever worn, because you look really good. And you think Lucien will like it. Especially the very convenient holes in the cloth. 

You don’t bother to put on much makeup, keeping it simple with waterproof mascara and lip balm.

You wrap yourself in a simple robe as you hurry to the living room, picking out a pair of black handcuffs, a toy you've only used a few times, all in preparation for today, and a bottle of lube. You put them in a bag along with a towel, a pack of wet wipes and grab your phone. It's 11:30, and you have a text from Lucien saying that he'll be done soon. You put on your flats and exit your apartment quickly, letting it shut behind you as you run over to his front door, tapping in his security code with ease. Before you enter, you pull out a thick white ribbon from your bag, tying it around the handle of the door.

As you slip off your shoes, you realize it's quite strange to be in Lucien's apartment without him there. The lights are off, the curtains drawn to keep the moonlight out. In the past, he's left you dozing in his bed if he has to go to work earlier, but you've never entered the place in his absence. There's no time to ponder the peculiarities of the situation, and you head to his bedroom, your steps timid as if to avoid waking up something slumbering in the shadows.

As you open the door, you peek through the slight crack even though you know he isn't home, stepping in once you're sure it's empty and letting the door close behind you with a click. You're more than familiar with his home, but something in you shies away from invading his privacy. If he knew you were thinking this after several months of dating, he would call you a silly. And get you to stay over more often.

With a resolute nod, you move towards the bed, turning on the lamp next to it. You take out the towel first, spreading it out over his clean sheets and taking a seat on it. You pull up a pillow behind you as you lean back against the headboard, slipping your robe off and folding it, putting it in the bag. You take out your tools, spreading them out in front of you, unsure how to go about this.

The scent of him is subtle, but it's very much present. It soothes your nerves, and the thought of his reaction to your presence gives you strength as you relax your shoulders. You close your eyes, resting them and your mind for a moment, acknowledging the nervousness. Whatever he might be expecting, it's certainly not this, and you can't hold back a smile at that. 

You enjoy catching him off-guard. 

Your fingers brush lightly over the side of your neck, across your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, thinking about the way he likes to explore your skin with his mouth. As you toy with your breasts, you think about how he likes to start slow, never rushing, always taking his time to draw your pleasure out. He's the biggest tease you've ever met, and you can barely keep up with the games he likes to play, but it's always worth it – he ensures it. He likes to draw out your pleasure, to take it for himself, more and more until you beg for respite.

As you begin circling your clit lightly, you think about the time you tried to wake him up and it resulted in you positioned over him, riding his face as he devoured every drop of pleasure you had in you. How tightly he'd held on to your thighs, refusing to let you move away as he ate you out with only greed and gluttony driving his mouth. When your fingers are glistening and your cheeks are flushed, you leave it there and move to the next step. 

Sitting up, you reach for the bottle of lube, pouring it generously, making sure your index finger is coated well before you turn your focus to the entrance above your sex. You’re on your back now, the soft cotton of the pillow warm from your body heat; your knees are pushed up, your arm reaching down between them. The slight trepidation you had felt the first time, at the feel of your finger dipping into the tightness is all but gone now, leaving behind slightly shaky confidence.

This is something Lucien has wanted to try for a while, but he hasn’t been too direct about it. He’s never gone beyond sliding in a finger, usually, while he’s fucking you, and you decided introducing it on this special day would be perfect. It was a good idea to try it on your own first, to see if it's something you would like, and ease into it. Still, you know Lucien's going to be at least a little difficult about it since you've kept this from him for nearly a month.

You're liberal with the lube as you prepare yourself, adding another finger once you’ve adjusted to the first and you slide them in and out steadily, pressing where it feels pleasing. The flash of your phone distracts you, and you rise onto one elbow to see it's a text from Lucien.

[11:35] Lu: I'll be home in 30 :) 

'He's being strangely cooperative,' you think absently. Once you’ve deemed yourself ready, you pluck out a wet wipe, wiping your hands carefully before reaching for the sleek toy and the bottle of lube. You coat it thoroughly before circling the tip around your entrance, then pushing it in slightly. You try to remain patient as you slide it in slowly, being gentle with your body, letting your tight heat adjust to the plug. 

You have about ten minutes by the time you’ve pushed it in as far as it can go, it’s round ring nestled between your cheeks; you lie there for a minute, breathing heavily, your walls clenching and fluttering. But you're satisfied with the familiarity of it, confident that your idea will be executed smoothly. Your walk to the bathroom is slow, and as you wash your hands you pray he doesn’t get here before you position yourself. Hurrying back into the room, you put everything except for the lube and the handcuffs back in the bag, leaving the bottle on the side table along with your phone once you’ve switched it off, hoping that Lucien will think you're asleep, in case he calls.

And then you try to figure out how he should find you.

This, like everything else, took a lot of thought. Initially, you thought you could just lounge on your front, letting him think you're asleep. But, now is not the time to be lazy. This is the time to make your boyfriend snap and bury himself inside you so deeply he forgets everything else, if just for today. And, preferably, the next three days.

And so you crawl onto the bed, letting your head and chest rest on the firm surface, leaving your rear in the air, presented with absolutely no subtlety. You struggle a little with the handcuffs, but manage to get them on safely, without pulling any muscles. Your arms are stretched over your head, it feels ridiculous, and you’re still giggling into the sheets when you hear the front door open. 

‘The things I do for love.’

You try not to squirm when the bedroom door doesn’t fly open immediately. Knowing the man, he’s probably scanning his living room. Taking his sweet time, knowing you’re in here waiting for him. 

‘This position is very uncomfortable when Lucien’s not there to distract me,’ you muse to yourself, trying to adjust your head comfortably. As if on cue, the door opens. 

You don’t even try to look at him. It won’t be possible, and it’ll only happen when he wants it to - you’ve ensured that by leaving the key on the table. Your heartbeat quickens as you strain your ears, jolting when you hear the door shut. Your back tenses as you pick up on the subtle sounds of him breathing, of light footsteps, of cloth rustling. You wonder what he thinks of the ring standing out between your cheeks, framed by delicate lace, and hope you don’t have to wait too long to find out. 

The bed dips as he takes a seat, and your heart races like a mouse, cornered and trapped, waiting for the cat's paw to fall on it. And then he speaks.

“I have to admit, I was quite disappointed when I didn’t see you outside,” he says casually. The hoarseness in his voice belies his nonchalant attitude, as does the way he clears his throat. You can hear the smile in his tone. You’re thankful he can’t see your face because you’re certain your wide grin would look out of place right now. 

“Are you still disappointed?” Your words are nearly a whisper, hushed and eager. You know he hears them when they prompt him to plant quick kisses across the plump flesh of your rear, a finger trailing across the ring keeping your plug from slipping in. 

“Darling,” he begins, his hands sweeping over your body, feeling the flimsy cloth, tugging at the garter. His touch is delicate, not meant to arouse, but you shiver from it anyway. “I don’t think I could be further from disappointment if I tried. But…”

His hand dips down between your legs, fingers pressing into your slit. You bite back a whimper, surprised that you’re this sensitive. He seems to realise it too, pushing the slender digits in, meeting little to no resistance. Your walls squeeze down, palpitating around it, and you push back immediately. 

“...but, I think I could do with a cup of tea, first. You don’t mind, do you? It was a long day.” A kiss on the back of your head and he’s gone, walking out of the room to get his tea, whistling obnoxiously. You're left staring at pristine sheets, unable to process his abrupt departure and your absolute helplessness in the face of it.

“Lucien!” you cry out, heart beating desperately. There's no space for shame here. “Lucien, please!” There’s no response. But you didn’t expect this to be easy in the first place. “Fuck.” 

And it doesn’t get better. Lucien walks in with a cup of his favourite, steaming beverage, and just stands there at the foot of the bed, sipping it and making casual remarks like he's in a museum. 

“I have to say, you’ve done a wonderful job. Did you buy this set for today?” He toys with the lace on your waist and the straps digging into your skin, his hand sliding up your back as he walks around to stand next to the bed. He, very pointedly, doesn’t mention the new toy. 

You lift your head slightly, tilting it enough to get a good look at him before you nod.  He’s in a skintight turtleneck, slim fit pants, but the dark of his clothes can’t compare to the one in his eyes. The ribbon you left at his door lies next to you. You don't miss the slight bulge at his crotch. He smiles at the sight of your teary eyes, glaring up at him even as you tremble. 

“I guess you don’t like your surprise,” you mumble, trying to fight the pout forming on your lips. The curve of his lips fades as he blinks in surprise before sitting down next to you. 

“Sweetheart, no,” he coos, placing his empty cup on the table. He leans in to kiss you on the cheek. “This is...I don’t think I have the words to describe what I felt when I walked in to see you spread out for me.” 

“Was it good?” you ask softly, trying not to sound smug. You know it was good. You look like you're begging to be fucked – which you are. He chuckles at the cockiness slipping through cracks of faux sincerity. 

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he repeats. He strokes your hair gently, pulling it away from your face. “Shall I show you instead?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

He moves towards the foot of the bed until he kneels behind you, facing your ass, his warm palms a soothing balm to your starved flesh. He caresses your skin gently, squeezing it a few times before you feel his breath on your sex.  The first swipe of his tongue feels like it could ruin you, and the feeling only increases as he continues to lick into you. 

“You’ve got yourself all wet for me, haven’t you? You’re such a good girl.” The first snack of his palm against your ass is unexpected; the second stings terribly and the third painfully welcome. After the seventh one, he pauses to press his mouth to your swollen entrance again, and you’re so wet you can hear the sound of him lapping at you. “But my good girl has been keeping secrets.” 

“I-I wanted to surprise you!” you protest, arching your back further, trying to urge him to move faster. He hums against your slick flesh, his mouth enveloping your swollen clit a second later. It only takes a few sucking motions for you to come with quaking walls and limbs, sobbing in relief at the surprising show of mercy. 

“I know you did. You’ve worked so hard to give me this,” he murmurs, curling a finger around the ring resting between cheeks that flaming red. And then you cry out again when the slender object is pulled out halfway before it’s slid back in, in repetitive, curious motions. “You’re so good to me.” 

“Fuck, Lu-Lucien,” you gasp, struggling for breath. He stills at the sound of his name, a displeased sound leaving his lips. 

“While I adore the view, I do think you’re too uncomfortable like this,” he decides, reaching for the key to your freedom. A part of you suspects he just hates not being able to see your face as he makes you come. You nearly collapse once your hands are freed, and Lucien is quick to gather you in his arms and lay you out on your back.

As your arms slowly reawaken, you put them to good use, pulling him over you to press up into him, nipping at his jaw until he gives in to your silent demand and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t pull away, slipping a questing tongue through your lips, tangling a hand through your hair to keep you there as he plunders your mouth without restraint. He kisses you until you’re putty in his hands, and he whispers his affection into your ears. 

“Please fuck me, Lu,” you plead, just the way he likes it. You place his hand on your breast, arching into his touch; you're deeply aware of the extra addition in your body, pushing against your walls, keeping your feet dipped in a pool of pleasure when you want to drown in it. “Please. It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” 

He inhales sharply at your words and moves away to undress slowly, letting your eyes rove across the hard planes of his torso, lean muscle flexing as he moves closer. You watch the way his cock bounces before he wraps a hand around it, giving it a few, sure pumps. He nearly succeeds in distracting you with a kiss, but you still open your mouth demandingly, widening your eyes in the way that never fails. Never one to deny you anything, he climbs over you, kneeling and bending until he can slide the tip of his plump cock into your mouth. You suck at it eagerly, swallowing more and more of him until you choke, until all you can taste is the He slides his swollen shaft out and back in, breathing heavily, groaning at the feel of your wet mouth and zealous tongue. 

You whine when he pulls away, quieting when he climbs down the length of your body to kneel between your legs. He unclasps the straps around your thighs and waist, pulling them off to toss them on the other side of the bed. After a second of consideration, he strips you of the bra as well but leaves the lace collar on. You're left completely exposed and shivering, aching with the need to feel his skin. He locks eyes with you as he wraps his hands around your thighs, pushing them up until you’re spread out, ready to be taken apart. 

“My darling girl, my heart.” His fingers curl over your breasts, tweaking and tugging, his mouth dropping down to suck at a pebbled nipple. You sigh as your fingers slither into his hair, as he rises up to press his cock to your entrance. He slides in all the way and it feels so full you could cry. “God, Lucien. I...it feels so good.” Strange, but you adjust to it. Each drag of his hips, of his skin against yours, feels like it’s setting you on fire. You scramble to catch hold of something, an anchor, before you slip; you pull him down into an urgent kiss as your hips buck up into him. 

He groans into your mouth and leans closer, swallowing your gasps; it’s unbearable, as if you’ll break, and as his thrusts speed up, you push back into him frantically, chasing after the fall, the rise, the destruction – it doesn’t elude you, he doesn’t rip it away but throws you into it instead. He leans back, reaching down for the plug and thrusting it into you, syncing its motions with that of his cock. Before you can comprehend the sudden pressure you’re coming so hard it blinds you, makes you scream, has tears pooling in your eyes.  Lucien works you through it gently, with lips quirked up at the way you babble, kissing you so, so softly your heart floods with how much you feel for this man. With a pounding heart, you watch as he reaches for the drawer, plucking out a condom and grabbing up the lube.

"Are you sure, darling?" Your response is to push your knees further until they're nearly level with your shoulders. He watches you as he lathers his cock with the liquid, using his other hand to pull your plug out. You got used to it, you realize, when it feels so empty. But he doesn't let it remain so, pressing the head of his leaking shaft against your entrance. You're treated to the full depth of his patience, as he dips in and out, getting further in with each propulsion. His eyes spark with every moan, his lips brush your mouth at every discomfited grunt. 

Once he's deep within you, in this new territory, and your head is thrown back, your mouth has fallen open at the feeling – he leans back and begins to thrust. His groans are everything you wanted to hear, and you can't help but smile up at him, unable to tear your eyes away from his bright eyes. There is no sign of the gloom, the sorrow. There's life, there's desire as he tests out all the different ways he can make you moan.

"I love you," you blurt out instead, overcome with the sudden flow of emotion. He slows as you tear up, to your immense embarrassment, and try to throw your arm over your head to cover it up. 'There was nothing sexy about that!' 

And then you nearly choke as, in one swift movement, he wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you up against him. He shudders, clutching you to him as you throw your arms over his shoulders, eyes rolling back into your head when he slips deeper. Your kiss is frenzied, as are his thrusts when they start anew, and then you do cry when he whispers his love, his praise against your lips, over and over again. Your nails dig into his skin, and his teeth sink into yours. You sob harder when he presses you into the bed, drilling into you like a man crazed and sliding his fingers into your throbbing sex. 

His eyes glow as he strikes where it shatters you, and you're blinded by it – completely consumed by the force of it, the way it leaves you in pieces, but even through your quaking limbs and the ringing in your ears, you feel Lucien pull out of you. Through bleary eyes, you watch him rip the condom off hastily before sliding through your oversensitive slit. He chokes out a guttural groan, clinging to you as he falters, the snapping of his hips unsteady as he comes almost violently, pumping himself into you, filling you up past what you can hold. 

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are of you two trying to catch your breath.

“Happy Birthday,” you whisper, pressing a shaky kiss to his cheek. He stays curled over you, staring down at your flushed face, your hair now far from smooth and sticking to your skin. His damp bangs fall haphazardly across his forehead, his lips are kissed red and he's so beautiful you need to look away before you cry again.

His eyes are suspiciously shiny as he kisses your forehead gently. “I love you, my darling girl.” 

As he settles next to you on the bed, you turn over gingerly. You're completely spent, sore and sweaty. Still, you aim for casualness, ignoring the slight tremble in your legs. "Excited for tomorrow?"

“Very,” he answers once you’re curled up into him, and he can play with your hair to his heart's content. “I'm glad we have the whole weekend to ourselves.” 

You gasp in mock outrage. "I do have an itinerary, you know." And you’ve also opened a new door for you both. You have no doubt Lucien will be experimenting on you until he’s familiar with every inch of this new area, and the slight fear you feel is understandable. He can be quite enthusiastic when it comes to figuring out what makes you tick.

"So do I." His smirk is positively feral and you can't help but snort. 

“Think we can shower before bed?” 

“Yes, if you’d like,” he gathers you into his arms gently, then sinks back into the bedding. “...maybe in some time. Are we actually leaving in the morning?“ 

You know your smile is a tad impish when he pinches your cheek. “We’ve got an afternoon flight.” If all goes according to plan, your boyfriend's birthday weekend will have a very pleasant start – with your mouth wrapped around his cock. You just have to make sure you wake up before him.

[risrielthron]

Who We Were

This took a good long while because there was a retcon in November of 2015 that kinda forced Risri into hiatus. When I brought her back for the paper in 2016, some details changed but still this was an eye-opening exercise of how I’ve grown as both an RPer and a writer. Anything that does not have brackets is the same.

Take a trip down memory lane, pull up the oldest ‘about’ post you can find for your character, and annotate what has changed and what has stayed the same in {Curly brackets}. 

(I borrowed this from @alyssa-ward​​ because what a cool exercise)

Originally posted October 4, 2015

Character’s full name: Risri Elthron Reason or meaning of name:  combination of Mother's best friend's name (still alive) and her mother's sister who died - Rislana (best friend) and Kiari (sister). The Elthron family have mostly played a back seat in the history of the Kaldorei. {Both of these origins have kind of changed. Risri’s name became a place that her parents named her after, something that was important to her father’s family in an RP with her aunt. The last name Elthron was chosen by Risri during her exile her original family name is Kal’serrar.} Character’s nickname:  Ris Reason for nickname: just a short form of Risri

Physical appearance

Age: 403 {she has aged 1 rl year each year since 2015 she is currently 408 years old} How old does he/she appear: to a human about 20ish {I actually think now she probably seems a little older to people) Weight: We don't ask ladies this! Though she looks healthy and toned. {I figure she’s whatever the average weight is for female elves} Height: Average for a Kaldorei {This has changed a bit. I have her just a tad shorter than Dragaur in human form so she’s 6’2” which apparently is short for an elf} Body build: She's not a body builder but her activities keep her in shape. Shape of face: Typical Kaldorei {She did not have a face claim at the time nor did she have art.  Her face looks like this art the most.}

Eye color: White {I list it as silver now} Glasses or contacts: none Skin tone: light purplish Distinguishing marks: Claw tattoo (gained during her Druid initiation ceremony) Hair color: Purple Type of hair: Long Hairstyle: up in a ponytail or straight down her back {when I first made Risri I had her in the pigtail hair style. I quickly didnt like how it looks and changed it to the long style she sports now. It has not changed since} Voice: typically soft {I imagine her voice and accent a bit like Gal Gadot’s natural voice} Overall attractiveness: again not really caught up in her appearance so someone may need to tell her and even then she will more than likely blush and stammer a thank you. {This has changed so so much from when I first created her.  She knows she is lovely and she will probably think you want something from her if you flatter her appearance.} Physical disabilities: none Usual fashion of dress: For events: dresses...she has discovered she likes pretty pretty dresses.  For class: simple black pants and a simple shirt  {So this too has changed from when I first created her.  She aims for comfort and style. She most often will be found in one of these} Favorite outfit: Dresses, she found a lovely gold and white dress that has become her favorite {I dont even know what dress this was but Im sure it was something from my early days on wra-I would say her favorite outfit is probably one of the ones above} Jewelry or accessories: She wears a button on a string around her neck. She fondles it every so often. {The button on a string has actually moved to her bag, she now sports a ruby necklace from Dragaur, her bracelet with several charms on it, and always has her camera}

Personality

Alignment: Good {I think I would classify Risri now as more neutral these days} Good personality traits: Loves animals, children, books, meeting new people (even though she can be shy, she enjoys it), giving, loyal  {This is all true except for the shyness, I don’t actually rp Risri as shy. She may be standoffish but thats cause IRL I am shy but Risri most definitely has no fear of talking to people} Bad personality traits: shyness can sometimes stop her from joining in, when she is caught up in research she may ignore others not to be hurtful she just gets caught up  {I think this one goes with the other, as for bad traits today, I usually say she can be stuck in her ways at times and can be over protective} Mood character is most often in: happy {I would say this is still true but she’s had her share of pain} Sense of humor:  silly things make her laugh {Not so much silly things but she definitely has a more snarky is funny sense of humor} Character’s greatest joy in life: running in the forest as a cat {Taking pictures and being a druid are equal} Character’s greatest fear: the death of her mother {This has actually come out in RP as a fear of mind control.  She would fear the death of her mother but mind control tops it.} Why?  Her mother and her are very close (unusual for Kaldorei, as they grow up communally typically), travelling with her mother in her formative years they relied upon each other What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Ris would be devastated if something happened to her mother  {I think the death of Latilda, and then when she thought Dragaur was dead, and subsequently the death of Suzi in the office are three of the most profound things that made Risri change some. Her fel contamination would come a close fourth Currently, if something was to really happen to Dragaur, Sky, or Selise it would mess up Risri for a while} Character is most at ease when: Researching {Funnily enough this might still be true, but I would say taking pictures is probably more} Most ill at ease when: at war {This is true, but as she found out both at Darkshore and recently when there are forsaken involved she has no hesitation in killing.} Enraged when: witnessing senseless destruction of sacred places or artifacts {I completely forgot that I chose that, but I would say it has not changed. She also does not stand for people she cares about being hurt, this one is tricky though and I often have to tame it down because of interactions with others.} Depressed or sad when:  she is a pretty positive individual, depression and sadness are fleeting if they happen at all. {This has matured over time. She gets very introspective at times and definitely will seek alone time when she is sad.} Priorities: Learn about as many cultures as she can, current focus is Treants. {So long ago… Her priorities currently are her studio, Dragaur, and helping the Kaldorei still homeless.} Life philosophy: Learn, Learn, Learn then share it all!  {This was definitely written back in my Stormwind University days. Her philosophy “Be kind. It’s worthwhile to make an effort to learn about other people and figure out what you might have in common with them.”} Character’s soft spot: her Sprite Darter "Flutter" {Also a certain worgen} Is this soft spot obvious to others? Sometimes {while I dont play it up too much she is very attached to Flutter. As for the worgen, yes when they are together it is clear she has a soft spot for the gruff one} Greatest strength: Passion for learning {This is probably still true but I would say she also is a pretty good photographer and a loyal friend.} Greatest vulnerability or weakness:  Naivety of how the world really works even though she has travelled the two main continents extensively she has been sheltered by her mother. {This was one of the things I retconned out of her when I brought her back for the paper. Risri may be unknowing of some human interactions but she is far from naive in most cases.} Biggest regret: That one time at band camp...seriously she is young so right now she doesn't have one but this may play into her development and story later. {HUGE change here... in fleshing her out in RP the biggest regret is and always will be the incident that forced her out of the Sentinels but not the results because it let her become a druid so its a double edged regret} Minor regret: she forgot to tell her mom about the time she ...oh that might not be appropriate for here {Again a change that came about from RP, that she threatened Dragaur with turning him in. She would never do that and she said it in a moment of frustration with him during a fight. It hurt them both too much.} Biggest accomplishment: coming soon  {Running the paper. Opening her studio. either} Minor accomplishment: joining the University! {so many things, her writings, some of her photographs, saving people at Teldrassil, helping the Kaldorei in Stormwind.} Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: she was almost not able to become a druid...story for another time {This also changed with the retcon, but I would say the time she spent before coming to Stormwind would be something she would not want others to know about and will probably not talk about to anyone.} Why?  She loves being a druid so not being one… {I have thoughts about what she was doing but its not fleshed out. Maybe someday and I can revisit this.} Character’s darkest secret: She is a pretty open book. Maybe later she will have a "dark" secret.  {So this dark secret is the fact that she killed 10 Sentinels. That also came with the revamp.} Does anyone else know?  {Several people.}

Goals

Drives and motivations: Curiosity unusual for a Kaldorei and need to have answers to questions  { I would say this is somewhat still there and aided her when she was a reporter, but her drives and motivations are deeper now and the result of RP. She wants to make amends and sees her work with the Kaldorei refugees as part of that.} Immediate goals: Make friends with the treant she met at the Grove of Ancients {Keep her business running, aid the Kaldorei} Long term goals: Become an expert in as many cultures as she can {Live} How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Locate writings and interviewing others, spending time with treants ((her contact will be sending her around Azeroth and Draenor to meet with others)) {So her plan for her immediate goals are tied together. She takes a good portion of her profits from the studio and the two books she’s published to fund her relief efforts} How other characters will be affected: may be pestered for any little detail they have about treants  {Most of the people she interacts with in RP would not be impacted.}

Past

Hometown: Darnassus  {God I was such a noob.  Feralas is her home.} Type of childhood: travelled both continents with her mother {so noob. She spent her youth in Feralas, Ashenvale, and Darkshore.} Pets: Sprite Darter named Flutter and a curious little white kitten {I retconned the kitten. Its only Flutter} First memory: Leaves above her (could be why she is fascinated with the treants...) {I think I’ll leave this one.} Most important childhood memory: Her and her mother on a ship talking into the night {This can stay too} Why?  The closeness she felt to her mother {Because of this reason}

Present

Current location: Elwynn Forest, Jazimina Amberstill's "Ranch" {Stormwind City, either Dragaur’s apartment or her studio} Currently living with: Jazimina Amberstill and Ritti {Dragaur} Pets: Sprite Darter "Flutter" Religion: Follower of Elune {no change, add wild gods} Occupation: Researcher {Photographer} Finances: moderate {no change though she has more wealth than she lets on}

Family

Mother:  Kahrysta Elthron  {Oh wow I totally changed her mother’s name.. Its Alistra Kal’serrar } Relationship with her: good {excellent} Father: Brezlin Elthron Relationship with him: vague memories, he died when she was still a child Siblings: none Relationship with them: Spouse: none Relationship with him/her: Children: none {though she briefly adopted Ritti before they found the gnome’s family} Relationship with them: Other important family members: Mother's best friend Rislana is like an aunt  {her aunt Tara, cousins, and another aunt I dont have a name for.}

Favorites

Color: Green and Purple {blues could be added} Least favorite color: Orange {sorry Drag, but I dont think its true anymore} Music: any Food: Chocolate Cookies {See answer here} Literature: Any Form of entertainment: stories {plays, dances could be added} Expressions: "Indeed!" {Its not often I get to use it but I do like it} Mode of transportation: Winterspring Frostsaber, given to her by her mother when she hit adulthood (about 50 years ago) or flight form  {Flight form.  The frostsaber went away in the retcon} Most prized possession: her journal {Camera}

Habits

Hobbies: Dabbles in alchemy {more than dabbles now} Plays a musical instrument? No Plays a sport: no How he/she would spend a rainy day: reading a book, any book {taking pictures} Spending habits: thrifty {for herself this is probably true, for others she can be extravagant} Smokes: no  Drinks: not normally  {no change, but she will drink} Other drugs: no What does he/she do too much of? Read  {Take pictures} What does he/she do too little of?  Socialize just for fun {This is probably more true now since giving up the paper} Extremely skilled at:  Keeping a team alive when faced with challenges when exploring  {Photography, writing could be added} Extremely unskilled at:  a lot of things but she does hate cooking {LIES...I retconned this. She loves to cook. I don’t know...but I am sure there is something. It would probably be something she doesn’t do and has no desire to do.} Nervous tics: not sure someone may need to point that out to her  {She plays with the bracelet on her wrist when she’s nervous. } Usual body posture: relaxed and happy Mannerisms: polite {extremely so} Peculiarities: …  {hmm, I am sure there are some that have manifested over the five years I’ve been RPing her. Perhaps how she will always address a human as their full name unless she has been asked not to and will still use Ms. Mrs. Miss. Mr. with that name unless she feels close to you.}

Traits

Optimist or pessimist: Optimist Introvert or extrovert: Introvert until she gets to know you then she might not be quiet {I would say shes more mixed now.} Daredevil or cautious?: A little of both Logical or emotional: Emotional  {probably more mixed now though she can be emotional she just normally doesn’t let it show unless she is very comfortable with you} Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat: somewhere in between, depends on how wrapped up she is in her research but she does have a habit of cleaning up if there is a mess  { I would say she is very neat. Sky drives her crazy.} Prefers working or relaxing:  working {definitely would say this is still true} Confident or unsure of himself/herself: unsure internally, others probably see her as confident  {a little of this still lingers but unless you are close to her you wont see it} Animal lover: indeed

Self-Perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: an introvert who is more bookish than social  {This is still kinda true.} One word the character would use to describe self: shy  {Quiet} One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: A passionate learner and studier of peoples, loves animals, enjoys outdoors, and exploring is exciting.  {A memory keeper, lover of animals and the outdoors, her passion for photography as a way to preserve memories is high.} What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? her passion for learning  {her compassion for others} What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? her shyness ((its all in her head too, she really can be quite un-shy when meeting new races or investigating something though in social entertainment type situations she is at a loss)) {so retconned, she would say her possessiveness when it comes to the people she cares about.} What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? She is unaware of her appearance most of the time  {She likes her hair.} What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? She hates her feet...not really  {I’ll keep this if only cause I dont know} How does the character think others perceive him/her: She sometimes thinks too much about this and sometimes it doesn't bother her at all  {She is very conscious of being a Kaldorei business woman in a human society. She strives to show that her people are trustworthy and kind.} What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: her shyness  {Since I retconned the shyness...I don’t know...Risri believes she can be a better person but its something that you work on each day.} 

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: opportunity to learn  {She is still curious about others and likes people watching. She thinks most people are good at heart.} Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others: hmm, I think this will depend upon the relationship and situation  {Oh most definitely, this was honed during her time as a reporter where she hid a lot of her thoughts about things.} Person character most hates: no one (yet)  {Elyza Morrowbranch} Best friend(s): her mother / Jazi  {Sky Stoneseat} Love interest(s): none (yet)  {Dragaur} Person character goes to for advice: her mother / Dean Crowelley  { Dragaur, Sky, Selise} Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Ritti  {Dragaur, Sky } Person character feels shy or awkward around: cute boys...oh ok anyone in an entertainment social situation, when she is meeting others for what she calls "research" she emulates her mother's ambassador ways as much as possible  {So such a noob.  She really doesn’t except older Kaldorei...she worries what they know of her past.} Person character openly admires: her mother and Rislana Silverwind  {Who is Rislana Silverwind omg I totally forgot this was a thing. Will have to think of someone else as Rislana is a Draenei now.  As for who she admires?  Her mother, Selise, Sky, Eilithe, Feyawen, Anegorn, and a few others.} Person character secretly admires: Dean Crowelley {I don’t think there is anyone she secretly admires, if she likes you, you know.} Most important person in character’s life before story starts: her mother  After story starts:  Ritti, Jazi, and the university faculty  {Dragaur, Sky, Selise}

If you made it here thanks for looking at the changes of Risri over the course of the last five years.  Its been a long, strange, crazy trip but I wouldn’t change much about it. If you want to do this, I encourage you to! And tag me cause I wanna read!

[tumblunni]

Aaa im so full of poke hype and lovv! <3

I feel like maybe doodling my kid self, for some reason?? Like embrace the nostalg and also show some love to that awkward lil kid who didnt really know who they were yet. Its interesting how much i've changed over the years!

Hell i might even draw personas of myself dressed as all the protags from all the different generations? But they'd be mostly the same for like the first 20 years, just me getting real tall and fat lol. I had almost floor length hair for SO LONG it felt really freeing to chop it all off and i never went back! I think i kept it cos it was loke.. Camoflage? The only 'girly' thing i had so i could pretend to myself that i was straight and cis. Plus a literal shield cos i could be 90% hair and just one eye poking out XD So yeah it'd be funny looking at me over time, its just this girly-looking kid getting increasingly more macho outfits and increasingly more girly hair and increasingly more socially anxious, until within the space of 18-25 i suddenly have this giant self discovery freedom explosion and change completely! Its funny how if anything i look less masculine now? Like im way more comfortable with the fact that i'm someone in between genders, and its not a binary of having to be something i'm not just to escape some other thing i'm not. Its also kinda funny how these gender roles felt so restrictive when i was crammed into one of them, yet dressing with both at once seems just as freeing as having neither. Tho still no matter how i dress i always get misgendered one way or another since non-binary acceptance is still far from the norm. But still im so much more me than i've ever been before, and its great to look back so i can realize how far i've come!

So lol maybe i'll just draw old kid me playing "her" first pokemon game, and leave out the next decade and a half of the same thing but taller. And i could just draw current me in a few different attempts at a pokemon outfit? Like when i did my sprite edits i just did me in my usual outfit i wear IRL, now im thinking maybe i shoulda designed a wish fullfillment ideal gym leader costume or something? Tho im too lazy to start the sprite edit project all over again with this new design lol. Oh and maybe also draw my pokemon go outfit? I dont wear it all the time but i had a fun lil look i wore the other day that i ended up laughing at cos i accidentalky wore all blue even tho i picked Team Valor! Now i wanna wear it all the time lol. Oo and maybe cosplay as my fave characters? If i cant afford to do it IRL i can at least draw it!

So yeh in summary somehow i feel really confident in my identity today and i wanna draw pics of me. Mild ego time!!! Or rather just wishing i could fly back in time and motivate my kid self by showing them that they woukd actually have the freedom to be themself some day. I dont even really think of it as "I used to be a girl" but just that i was always feeling this way and didnt know the words for it, or that other people felt the same way and it wasnt an 'abomination against god'. And for some reason playing a gane with selectable genders really helped me let out some of my feelings during that confused childhood of absolute repression. "I just pick a random gender each time cos it doesnt really matter right? Doesnt everyone just pick the one with the outfit they'd rather wear?" I absolutely knew that was a lame excuse and none of these other kids actually felt that way, but at least it kept people from suspecting i had queer reasons for my queer actions. In a time where i didnt even know what queer meant except that it was Somehow Bad. Gah, this is why sex education needs to be inclusive! Even when i was old enough to learn about straight sex i apparantly wasnt old enough to learn about gay and trans people! Let alone asexuality lol... Man it was a whole nother mess to be dealing with an anomolous lack of sexual attraction at the same time as i was repressing something everyone told me was 'inherantly too dirty for teenagers to know about'. For so long i was just told that crossdressing was 'a sick fetish men have for wearing women's underwear' not just.. A woman is a woman and is telling you she's a woman and you wont listen to her. And for some reason they always obsessed with MTF trans folk in these sensationalist hate sermons, i guess because 'a man who gets off on dressing like a woman' just sounds like the more disgusting version when youre a sexist homophobic transphobic piece of shit throwing your bigotry at children. And at the same time also aphobic and telling me i need surgery on my genitals if i dont want sex. Mannnn kids those days.. i really hope kids these days have it better! I hope everyone who dealt with that shit managed to find love and support eventually, even if its still a damn crime they had it denied to them during their most important childhood years. The whole concept of 'an innocent carefree childhood' is so unknown to me, its ironic people claim they want to keep "lgbt politics" away from children in order to preserve that innocent childhood...

Aaaaanyway im rambling lol! In summary pokemon was one of my only coping methods during that childhood and the only small way i could pretend someone accepted me. Even if it was just by whispering no when the professor said 'are you a boy or a girl' and being happy at the little genderless mons like magnemite or the legendaries. I dont think i would have ever realized it was actually POSSIBLE and had words for the complex dysphoria i was feeling, if i hadnt played this dumb lil series of games.

Anyway thats probably also why i never had any attatchment to gen 1 despite being born right as the first wave of pokemania was coming out. The memories i have of those times are complex. Im just excited to revisit kanto as a new and happy person and maybe make new memories! I already barely remembered actual Yellow compared to FRLG, it was kind of a trip to play it on virtual console and remember all the tiny bits of sexist writing that games used to have during that era. It was like 'whoa i never noticed this was wrong as a kid, this finally explains why it made me uncomfortable!' Also the gameplay was glitchy and the plot nonexistant and the translation rudimentary and limited. And the mons weren't very good and i prefer pretty much every other generation and especially Garbodor and Vanillite, dammit!

Ok im going offtopic again

So yeah like i said im happy that Let's Go has managed to make me hype even thougj i didnt enjoy kanto the first time around! And its good how much it represents my journey out of that shitty childhood so now i can revisit it and pretend this is my first time and None Of That Happened, Thanks

So anyway bunni draws past self. And gets emotional. And rambles for hours in a dumb post.

Ok bye

[kosmicdream]

hey!!! i just read to the most recent update of ffak (my favorite webcomic ive ever read tbh) and i kinda wanna try making my own. did you have the whole story planned out before you started or is it an ongoing thing? also how did you make the website for it? thank you for making such a cool comic!

Thank you so much!! And let me try to figure out a way to answer this properly. My process is a bit complicated to explain because it is very organic. Its almost like I am never done writing it, because I am always letting it grow/stretch and explore as I think about ffak every day, and every night before sleeping I’ll try to brainstorm things I havent thought of. So spending that much mental energy on something, you never really get ‘done’ with writing a story. Even when i eventually finish ffak, im sure i will be still working on it (or things I would have wanted to do.)

However!! Before i started working on ffak, when it was just called HELP! i established many things narratively that I stuck to and have not changed about the story. So I think the process of this comic, in a simple way, could have been broken down like this in.. stages?

1) I laid down the basic framework of the world, such as the functions of king worms specifically, the aiguille family, helpers, several characters (some havent even appeared in the comic yet!), king leadman, as well as antony/rome’s narrative arc/dynamic. that way their character arc was already figured out before the comic started and I knew it would be the central ‘root’ of the story. I knew how i wanted Rome to be introduced, and how he would meet canary, not knowing the connection between canary and his brother. I had a rough idea, even from here, how their character arc would come to a point (and basically what sorts of things the story would likely eventually close on) I also knew the general setting was on moons and how the humans got there, and how advanced society was, and what the red lights “really" were and what they meant..i figured out what ‘vein’ was here.. ect.. many worldbuilding things!!!It might sound intimidating, but this process happened very quickly. I basically figured this out in the.. day? before i started working. I have had a lot of experience with roleplaying so i think that helps with me making quick decisions. I knew i had enough to work with that I didn’t feel intimidated to start actually drawing it out-- especially because i had the rome/antony thing already set down. 2) Then when I actually started to work, things started to develop very quickly. I knew basically all i needed to for Hekatons before i got to introduce knife (their origins, history, involvement in present day politics) and before ch6 i also wrote all of the “supporting cast” (at the time) which included dylan, fork/spoon/knife, paper/scissor/rock. So i ws able to write Thumb and Heel, and set up the overall dynamic of what the world was like in the present day. (also Spoon/Scissor’s connection.) Cash was actually written in the first batch of characters oops, but her design really became more detailed during this stage because of scissor. 3) then things got more complicated as i dug deeper into the past, and wanted to include crimson. So!! I fleshed out the origin and true history of this world. basically as soon as crimson appeared I had everything in place and felt comfortable enough to include crimson, who borrowed many things narratively from a character i roleplayed for years. Anyway, i figured out all of the deep past of the world and decided to draw it out since it was so interesting in ch 9/10. I think this was around in the 2nd chapter when i figured this out, but my memory is fuzzy. I know by the time i did the flash forward scene in ch2 i had decided many things and so all i had to do was get to them in the comic to cement it in. 4) I forget when exactly (maybe around in chapter 5 or 6) , but i decided to bring in a very old story i wrote in 2009 for good leadman’s origin story-- as i thought it would be cool to make good leadman the protagonist for this old comic i wanted to do, and that helped make the background for heel and thumb more “believable” to me because they were already symbolizing this old story i had written the entire thing of. Oh that’s something else to mention, because that world was part of a collection of stories- i was able to develop DMTIA that way because i already had this cast and just decided to merge the stories into the FFAK setting. I think when i did this, it pretty much was the final big thing to make me understand everything i needed to know about this world. All the story arcs felt pretty realized and I could see how the ending could go at this point.

I guess to summarize, is that i let things grow but also had things planned from the start and once i commit to an idea, it doesnt change. Even if it might appear somewhat frustrating to work with, i like to use them to make my next decision. sometimes that means i dont get to do all i want to do, but i still have a lot of flexibility in this setting like i wanted to have from the beginning.

Even now when i feel like pretty confident that I’ve explored every nook and cranny, I’ll decide to revisit a older storyline or facet of the world and strengthen or build on that. That’s why i ended up with so many fucking side characters because I’ll brainstorm for them for a day or two and suddenly have a lot of material i know wont even “technically” go into the story even though its there. (like, Spot for example was not meant to be so interesting, but i wrote a huge fucking story for him that obviously wont get really any attention.)

So.. its ongoing and it is also not ongoing and hasnt been for quite a long time now? (after two years of constant work it felt.. really complete and done in a lot of ways. we are now currently on year three, moving to year four!) I think the best thing to do is to keep in mind what kinds of methods for writing make you feel comfortable and is your natural brain-pace. I like working with an aspect of fluidity and room for growth and flexibility because i don’t like being boxed in or “outgrowing” my project too fast. So keeping that in mind, i designed ffak to be a comic where it could grow with me and change. that’s pretty much why i decided worms would be a great subject and theme to work with because they are characters that naturally, evolve and change based on what they eat and absorb. plus the themes in ffak just are so fun to work with i will never be bored of it. structuring a project with these things in mind for when i run into walls or feel unmotivated have kept me engaged. I think that is part of why i cannot let it go because I still feel really excited to write and contribute ideas to it.

However, Chapter 12 really feels like I’m settling back down to my original plans and taking my time and patience to communicating all the structured planning ive put into it. I’m not letting it grow the same way anymore because it doesnt need to. I feel comfortable with understanding its voice/style and pacing and im no longer recovering from the uhh.. shock of it existing? I promise that once you actually start making a comic, its a wholly different experience than just it being in your head. and it will sound, look, and feel different than what you thought it would be-- that in itself has influenced a lot of change in ffak because honestly at first i was not expecting to draw it so explicit. that was difficult to get used to but im happy to have embraced that aspect of my work.

So HMM.. I made a strong spine or foundational backbone in the beginning before i started, then fleshed it out as i was in the process of making it, and i always continue to leave room for it to grow. just not grow in EVERY aspect anymore. i also dont chop down branches, but i try to hone in on specific things to make them more clear. i think chopping stuff down and removing things is generally not the best to do because its easier to build up and work with what you have than make big retcons after youve already started or established. also the challenge of working with limitations makes you feel that needed bit of pressure to really commit to your work in the moment of making it and i feel like its helped make me more serious and confident about what i write about. I never feel lost on what to do because if I cover and figure out something, that’s how it is. I make it work regardless! 

everything is done with careful consciousness to the overall balance and product of the story, while also not suffocating it in a box of limitations of what it could be. i treat it like a living thing in my mind and heart and that means i work to have thoughtful conversations with it and myself about what its needs are, what my needs are, what i want to do with it and what it wants to be.. ect. its almost a spiritual thing really. i feel like its important to always reflect and engage with your art and art process to feel a stronger connection and purpose behind what you are deciding to do and what it means to you. i am probably repeating myself a little here but!!!!!! its worth saying!!!!!!!!! 

I also really think it adds to the interesting and fun “layers” to the story, as there has been different stages to its development and it brings in different feelings with each layer. But then the older or more ‘’foundational’’ ones pop in and they seem to give off a different atmosphere (antony and rome) vrs some of the newer additions (like jacket) who are more for shallow, fun decoration or an interesting potential to explore in the future. Like, Jacket is not a character that has a lot of foundational plot connected to him, but he’s an interesting development in terms of the potential of a worm and symbolizes that early-ffak-mindset of growth and experimentation. so i think it makes him a really unique and fun character because he embodies a lot of new and old aspects of ffak’s narrative and my journey with working on the comic.

I could go on and on, but I hope this sort of gives some insight to my process and how I write/work. because in a lot of ways, it isn’t linear. just like how my comic is! sometimes this makes ffak very disorienting for people to read, but if you keep in mind that ffak is very organic and personally tailored to my mannerisms  and with that in mind, it makes a lot more sense why it is how it is and the patterns in it become much more apparent. Anyway! thank you for reading and good luck working on your own stories! it can be challenging but i think it is absolutely worth the effort. 

Also i did not make the website, my good friend Tegan did. :3 i do not know anything about websites.

[riskeith]

i couldn’t stop smiling reading your last message i’m literally so happy atm. you’re so cute and i’m SO happy. i reread it three times and giggled so loud my brother asked why i was laughing... 🥺 he’s in the next freaking room 🥺

sappiness aside: YES!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE? i wish i could give my luck to you as you deserve it much more ): it’s true but it’s still important if you wanna do well in combat sadly haha dhdydbjdnd like you said it’s very inconvenient to have a unbalanced team but i decided that i’m just gonna switch around with the characters i have when it’s needed yk? they’re all mostly around the same levels so it works fine rn.. or it will until i have to focus on who i want to focus on ascending when i get to higher levels bc payments and materials and all.. sigh there’s so much to think about with too many cute characters... anyway how many rolls have you done since you started playing? do you remember?

OH???? is it easier on pc? i’ve always enjoyed smaller consoles tbh (like switch or even phone) bc it’s easier to focus so it wasn’t that difficult for me. but like you said it might just be a ‘getting used to it’ thing. also now that you’ve seen both; which differences are there in the game? are you gonna have two different accs?

i did restart it from the first ep!!! i figured i might as well get the ~full~ experience. it’s been a while too so it’s like a new experience but not rly? it’s like traveling back to your home country and you’re like wow... i belong here even if i’m not here all the time dhsjsjdhfh bad example but you know what i mean?i’ll keep you updated! rn i’m at training camp part of s1 and it’s great!!! just having a blast tbh. needed this especially now that school is back... :(

i guess we are talking about voltron in 20fucking21. i don’t know if i love that for us or not.... (our honeymoon can be whenever you want babe pick a date and i’m There 😏)

pls unrequited love is soo good. it hurts but it’s good too? haha, maybe if one has experiences with it it just hits different yk? but i’m with you—watching voltron i always always had the headcanon that keith first started to feel smth for lance in the ‘we did it’ scene and actually thought ‘i’m in love’ during the black lion scene. like the proof is all there... s8 and the sunset scene just proves his longlasting feelings nobody can tell me otherwise. keith is the type to cherish the people he loves a lot because he barely has anyone and that means putting their happiness above anything else and lance’s happiness was allura for a while and he just... accepted that despite yearning . god . i always think about is bittersweet smile while having his speech. it’s like; i know that you’re great and you should know that you’re great too and if she can’t see it she doesn’t deserve you.

you freaking out over the leave the math to pidge scene... losing my fucking mind. girl they’re literally in love fuckinf crying 😭😭😭😭😭 they depend on each other SO much like the show runners always push the ‘hunk and lance bffs’ agenda ok sure but in the show hunk was never there for lance the same way keith was. they just eased each other’s anxieties without having any expectations on each other at all? yet they surpassed all of them. the other was just.. there. always. remember the ‘we all miss shiro’ scene too???? the entire team looked at lance and wanted him to step up!!!!!! like HELLO??????? and the second lance spoke keith just calmed down... kill me now. if that doesn’t show much trust and appriciation and respect there was between them idk what does. and the fact that the others know that despite their differences they still need each other just..... yeah. *cries*

YOU SHOULD YOU SHOULD YOU SHOULD YOU SHOULD. i get you tho klance is just... comfort ship but the ship that leaves you depressed too. i’m sure you could still write them perfectly but i’m absolutely in no way pressuring you at all you truly don’t have to if you can’t. i know how hard it can be to write when the motivation is just not there... :/ anyway idk what i’d prompt i just love your fics babe hsjdhdjdjdk. that’s so boring of me to say help but everything you write i love so.. surprise me? i can’t believe you have a final klance fic tho that sounds so sad.... ): i’m curious what it’s about but maybe it’s better to keep it hush hush.. hm?

i hope you’ve slept well!! you make me so happy!! kisses! xxxxxx

FHSJFKDS that makes /me/ so happy to hear!!! i was sitting on my bed smiling like a FOOL reading this ahahahaha. and soz to your brother but what can i say 🤪🤪

nooooo im so glad you got a 5 star already pls it’s fine im just gonna use all my primogems on xiao banner and it’ll end up okay fhskjdfds. yeah just switching charas in when needed totally works too! it’s just annoying when you accidentally get caught up in combat and it’s just ‘oop im level 1 against level 50′ AHAH. (tho i guess you won’t run into that issue yet?) honestly yeah there’s so much to do with the characters like ascending, constellations, talents, weapons, it’s just like.. what do i do first.... and who..... afhdskjfhsjf sometimes i just want to use character bc pretty and that should be enough 😔

hmmmm for the character event banner I believe i’m at 60 or 70 rn? so i’m reaaaally close to pity which is why when xiao comes 🙏🙏🙏 and for the standard banner i have no idea, maybe 40? so yeahhhh LOL... i keep saying this (and i better not be jinxing it BUT) im hoping it’ll all pay off...... i hope it’s all been building up for xiao... c6 xiao.. come home FHDKSJHDS

i definitely prefer it on PC! controls aside i just like the bigger screen tbh (my laptop is 15″). mostly the differences are the controls/buttons! since you can’t hold down multiple buttons at once on mobile, they’ve got more to cover all the functions (pc doesn’t have an extra dash button, we just right click or press shift; if we’re in the air i think one of the buttons turns into the drop down/plunge, rather than showing like 3 on mobile? i can’t remember precisely but yeahhh; there’s also the joystick on the left side of the screen on mobile that obviously isn’t there on pc bc we have the keyboard. it’s also harder to move the camera around whilst doing things on mobile i feel?) 

and nah i don’t think i’ll make another acc, esp since i’ve gotten so far into game already but i did definitely think about it as a possibility ahahah (bc of my bad luck... i was wondering if i did a reroll (second) acc i might be able to get diluc FJKHSKDFS)

omg it feels like coming home what a good description 😩😩 haikyuu is just such a fun warm experience! legit so comforting and light-hearted but also get deep when it needs to be. oh yes training camp <33 gosh they were so young then :’) HAHAAH. and noooooo school has started up for you again? rip i wish you the best of luck 😔💪

maybe 2k21 is the year of revisiting old things...... god voltron ended in 2018 can you BELIEVE that (😏😏😏 i was gonna mention playing genshin co-op together (even back when you first started) HAAHAH but i assume you play in europe server? im asia rip 😥)

WE DID IT WE ARE A GOOD TEAM!! THE FUCKING PURPLE AROUND THEM!!!! THE SMILEEEE OH MY GOD THE BONDING MOMENT THE. fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk every time you mentioned a single line or scene im just. all the memories come flooding back fhdsfkhsdjf. hang on a second.. they are red and blue.... the scene was purple... surely i knew this back then but im thinking about it now and?????/ oh my god

the sunset scene!!!!!!!!!! that is Peak pining keith unrequited love and pain scene... my goodness. “that means putting their happiness above anything else” NOOOOOOOOOOO you are so right tho 😭😭😭😭😭 please keith deserves the univerise <333 :((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((( the fact that lance seeked him out for that too.. just like old times.. “you can sure be a hard guy to find when you wanna be huh” the way i still remember that ugh they really were my everything 😔

YES!! like they pushed the whole lance+hunk+pidge thing but then in the actual show had hunk+pidge treat lance like shit and belittle him so often?? like ?????????? (once again where fanon saves us 😩) and oh my god yeah.. when everyone turned to him and lance like walked up to keith and then said all that.. we actually had so many moments?? god. *cries with you*

speaking of shiro.. s06e05 the black paladins!!! “shiro.. please.. you’re my brother.. i love you..” “just let go, keith” 😭😭 keith suffered so much AND FOR WHAT my god i miss him so much oh no

FSHFKJDS “surprise me” the only reason im asking is bc i have no ideas!!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭 but i shall think.. (and if you want to think and help me out too.. 👐) & i’ve actually posted about that final fic a lot! LMAO that’s how you know i know i’m never gonna finish fdskhfksjd but in case you do wanna see, here are some links: one, two, three

thank you!! i stayed up to 4am like an idiot LOL but i swear today.... and same 😭 im so so happy to have met you 🥰❣ muah! xoxoxox