#omgcp ficlet

[doggernaut]

Thinking about Jack Zimmermann and how he probably grew up going to upscale restaurants with his parents and not necessarily loving or hating the experience because it was just ... normal. And maybe they weren't his favorite thing because going out meant dressing up and remembering his manners and looking people in the eye when they spoke to him.

Jack can do all that, of course he can, but it's a lot. In the aftermath of his overdose, especially, he's convinced the people at other tables who are sneaking looks at him and his parents are talking about him, about how he messed up and how messed up he is.

And anyway, Jack is a creature of habit. It's nice to go out and have a nice meal, but he'd be just as happy with his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or chicken tenders. They're safe, and comforting, and part of his routine.

But then he starts dating Bitty, who loves food and cooking and getting dressed up to go out. Up until now Bitty's "fancy" restaurant experiences have been at chains like the Olive Garden or random steakhouses attached to the hotels he stayed at for figure skating competitions. Bitty is delighted when he looks at a menu and sees the executive chef named at the top--so fancy! He wants to order all the tiny, expensive appetizers and take pictures of each one. He plays footsie with Jack under the table and talks enough to distract him from anybody in the restaurant who might be looking at him.

And Jack still doesn't love fancy restaurants; he'd much rather be at home with Bitty eating chicken tenders and a slice of apple pie. But he'll put up with the fancy restaurants now because they make Bitty so happy, because everything is better when he's with Bitty.

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest (congrats on 500!):

7:52 pm

the weight room

Jack Zimmermann

Rating: M

(Doggernaut/rabbitrunnah)

oooooh this was really fun to write, thanks for the prompt! i hope you enjoy senior year jack thirsting over bitty as much as i do <3

want your own ficlet? my followers can submit their own prompts using these guidelines through Jan 31, 2024.

🏒🏒🏒🏒

7:52pm, weight room

Jack tries to catch his breath before his last set of leg presses. 

There’s something immensely satisfying about weight-lifting days. It’s straightforward; more weight, more reps, diversifying exercises—it all works together to translate to better performance on the ice: more power, more breakaway sprints, more goals. A simple A plus B equals C. Jack’s favorite kind of math.

Once, not that long ago, weight training days would have been solely about maintaining the perfect form, strict adherence to his own ridiculous goals, pushing his body to keep going, to be better, to go right up to the limit of what was possible—and then past it, regardless of all the warnings his coaches, his parents, his teammates, even his own mind were giving him.

But now Jack’s in a better place, he’s got more support, so he can just lose himself in the repetitive motion, the sensation of sweat down his back, the clean exertion of pushing his body in a healthy way.

Or, he could, if he wasn’t so distracted.

It isn’t Jack’s fault that the leg press machine faces the mirrors. It isn’t Jack’s fault that there’s a clear view of the hip adductor machine in said mirrors. And it certainly isn’t Jack’s fault that Bittle is ahead of him in the circuit, on said hip adductor machine, in said mirrors.

…But it might be Jack’s fault that he can’t stop watching.

Despite his size, Bittle’s always been strong. That much had been obvious from the way he could skate suicides for an hour, the way he could hurl his body so high into the air and spin, the way he could whip a meringue by hand without pausing, or switching hands. He’d been surprisingly dense when Jack had pushed him into the boards during checking practice last year, Jack’s attention caught by how Bittle’s muscles were highlighted as much as his haircut in the sunlight when he’d moved into the Haus this summer.

Bittle’s strength is glaringly obvious right now.

The mirror provides an optimal view for Jack as he rests before his last set. Bittle’s perched on the seat, hands on the grips behind him for balance. His brow is furrowed, and the collar of his shirt dark with sweat from the effort from today. For once, he’s not singing or humming or bouncing along to the music in his headphones; Bittle’s breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth carefully, measured, timing his exhales with every time he manages to bring his knees together. Jack’s whole being is focused on the way Bittle’s thighs flex as he pushes them from spread wide to knees touching and back again. Over and over. All of Bittle is glistening with sweat from the exertion under the fluorescent lights and Jack— 

Jack has a sudden, visceral, all-consuming urge to taste. To run his hands from Bittle’s delicate ankles, up his calves. To hold Bittle’s thighs open wide with his shoulders so he can get his hands on his hips, his waist, his ass. To take his time, sucking the sweat from Bittle’s thighs hard enough to leave a line of bruises in his wake, before moving higher. To lick the sweat from the crease where his thigh meets his hip. To chase the drops of Bittle’s precome with his tongue. To take Bittle’s cock with his mouth, all the way to the hilt, before pulling Bittle’s hand to his own hair, encourage him to move Jack exactly how he wants, to take—

The resounding clang of Bittle’s weight stack yanks Jack out of the fantasy.

Câlisse de tabarnak—he’s in the middle of a workout, he can’t be getting distracted by a teammate of all people, and especially not Bittle. Jack depends on their hard-won friendship too much to ever even entertain the possibility—

Jack stands, busies himself with adding more weight to his own machine for his last set, determined to keep his eyes off the mirror, off of Bittle as he bustles around the machine, gathering his water bottle, bending over to wipe the seat down, ass facing the mirror—

It’ll be fine. Bittle will finish cleaning the machine. He’ll move on to the next stop in the circuit, to the machine that’s directly behind the hip adductor. Completely obscured from Jack’s view, and Jack will be able to finish his leg presses without getting distracted.

Bittle catches his eye in the mirror and gives him a small smile and a salute before bouncing off to the next machine and Jack—

Jack better do two more sets, just to be safe.

[appalamutte]

has anyone seen the 2014 romcom-slash-drama Love, Rosie?? this is an old zimbits au ficlet i wrote last year inspired by that film

Eric never really minded public speaking.

Sure, if the crowd’s large enough, it gets his heart rate up a bit and his palms a touch sweaty. But after years of being in front of the camera, vlog or morning news or what have you, talking in front of others becomes somewhat of a natural reflex.

When you’re asked to speak at your best friend’s wedding, however, and you find yourself sitting just a table across from them, hastily-thrown-on suit and jetlagged and all, the nerves take on a larger form. They grow, and grow, and grow—gripping at your throat, taking hold of your heart, something cold pressed and heavy in the pit of your stomach—until you’re consumed, because gosh, is this really it? Has it really been fifteen years, years of late-night phone calls and too-short moments and pathetic pining, only for it to end here?

Just take a deep breath and start at the beginning.

The municipal ice rink, the house across the street, blue skies open, legs unsteady and sneakers scuffing on pavement.

Tell them how we first met.

The classroom in Chastain Park*, knees bumping under desks, passed notes clasped tightly, words only for him and him alone. Something reserved, because the world was so big back then—it was endless—they were so young, and yet the world was nothing more than the corners of his smile stretched just so.

Tell them how we shared our dreams. Even your really weird ones.

“I had another dream last night,” he said with the timidity of a secret, the voice of a ten-year-old, and Eric dropped himself onto the curb beside him, giggling all the way down.

“Yeah? Let me guess, you were a…a leaf! And you were flying to the ground. Right?”

He shook his head, picking at the skin between his thumb and forefinger like the bad habit Eric always had tried to get him to break. “No, I wasn’t a flying leaf. Or a stick. Or a rock on the side of the road.”

“Then what were you?” Eric asked.

“I…,” he started, stopped, chuckling only when Eric bumped his shoulder with his own. “I was a puck. A hockey puck. And it was…nice, this time.”

He was biting the inside of his cheek and staring down at his hands, so Eric did what he always did and slid his hand between them, stopping the bad habit for the moment, smoothing out his fingers until they were interlocked with Eric’s own. Warm, squeezing. Together.

Actually—no, keep that as our secret.

And now, with the clinking of cutlery against an empty glass, bodies moving to their seats, and the eyes of the wedding reception flitting to him entirely, Eric takes one last sip of his champagne.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a hand for the best man.”

Tell them that this is…

He stands. Note cards ready. Clearing his throat.

…that this has to be…

“Good evening, y’all,” Eric starts, smiling as best he can manage. “To those who I haven’t had the chance to say hello to, well—hello. I’m Eric, the best man. Um, so before I officially get going with this, I’d just like to give a huge congratulations to the best person I could ever wish for—”

…one of the happiest days…

“—Jack Zimmermann,” there, a table away, close enough to see that small smile and far enough that Eric will never reach him again.

…of your life.

“And his wife, Camilla Collins.”

Notes:

*Chastain Park is a neighborhood in Atlanta. The idea is that Bob ends up being transferred to the Atlanta Thrashers and Richard snags some job with UGA’s football program, so they both move their families there etc etc

Also pretty sure I messed with character’s ages in this universe so that Bitty and Jack are one year apart, because childhood friends to lovers doesn’t work as well when there’s a five year age gap haha

[forabeatofadrum]

A Sandy Situation

Summary: Jack falls asleep on a beach. He's woken up by someone yelling and Jack realises that some children have buried him in the sand. Luckily, that person offers to dig him out.

Notes: The creators of @madisonandmore have been revealed, so I can finally post my story here as well.

I saw this prompt and I loved it. I set this fic in Italy because I can. Thank you @coffeegleek for the amazing title and I hope y'all enjoy.

AO3

--

Jack's tired. He's been tired for a while, which is why this vacation is needed. He's on the beach. He's lying in the water, but at the shallow part, enjoying the sun. He’s applied enough sunscreen and he’s wearing his trusty Falconers cap.

Damn, he needed this.

The Falconers didn’t win the cup this season, but it was still a busy season. The moment it was over, he packed his stuff and booked a flight to Italy. He declined an offer to go to Bonaire with some of his teammates. He loves those guys, but he needed some alone time.

The Italian sun is shining brightly and the warm temperature is soothing, in a way. Jack normally has to get used to heat. He is Canadian, after all! But now it only helps him relax.

He can feel himself doze off.

--

Jack is slowly being woken up, but not in a calm way.

No, he’s being woken up by Italian yelling.

“Ma cosa avete in testa? Dove sono i vostri genitori? Queste cose sono pericolose!”

Jack tries to open his eyes. He’s still waking up, but after hearing that loud voice, he’s more awake than before. He tries to lift his arm to rub his eyes, but then he realises he can’t. Something is pressing his arm down.

In fact, something is pressing Jack’s entire body down.

He blinks a couple of times and his eyes hurt because of the sudden influx of light. Once he’s gotten used to it, he takes in the view.

Jack is still lying on the beach. The tide has changed so he is no longer in the water, but instead of seeing his body, he sees sand. There is sand everywhere. A group of young kids are standing next to him, with their backs turned to him. They don’t pay him any attention. Instead, they’re being scolded by someone in angry Italian.

The kids are holding buckets and plastic shovels and Jack realises what is going on. These kids buried him in sand in his sleep.

“Uh… ciao?” Jack says and the kids all tense up. One of them even drops their tools in shock.

Some look over their shoulders and they seem alarmed.

An adult moves the kids to the side. Jack can only see an silhouette because of the sun.

“Tutto bene? Cristo, mi dispiace. Questi bambini pensano di essere divertenti, ma non preoccuparti, ti tirerò fuori di lì-”

This person crouches down and Jack finally can see who woke him.

The guy looks worried as he keeps talking in rapid Italian, but Jack doesn’t hear it. He’s too shocked by the sight of this guy. He’s blond and he has gorgeous brown eyes. He’s wearing red swim trunks and his chest… Jack’s derived mind wants to reach out and touch it, which isn’t a good idea because it would be inappropriate and impossible because of the huge chunk of sand.

Jack realises that the guy’s stopped talking and that he is waiting for Jack to say something back.

“Oh. Uh. Non, uh, non parle- I mean, parlo italiano,” he stammers out.

“Ah.”

“Tourist,” Jack says and he wants to point towards himself to drive his point home, but again, there is a lot of sand.

Jack’s an athelete. He’s incredibly strong, but the even distribution of the sand over his entire body makes it impossible to break out of it. He can feel his arms against his body and the pressure keeps it all down. The fact that the sand is damp makes it even harder.

“Do you speak English?” the guy asks, in English, with an American southern twang in his voice.

“Yes!”

The guy lets out a relieved sigh.

“My daddy is Italian, but I grew up in America. I’m Eric, but everyone calls me Bitty, and I am going to get you out of here,” he says.

“My name is Jack,” Jack says and damnit, he wants to extend his hand. Jack doesn’t realise how used he is to moving freely until it he is unable to do so. “What happened?”

“These pieces of work thought it would be funny to bury you in the sand,” Bitty shoots the kids a nasty look.

“How did this happen?” Jack asks.

“From what I’ve gotten, you lying on the wet sand allowed a small hole for your body to form. The kids saw that and thought it’d be funny to pile a lot of wet sand onto you. They tried to make the hole bigger by digging out sand around you and then they used it to bury you,” Bitty explains and then he turns to the kids again, “Even though they should know that it is incredibly dangerous to bury someone in a hole in the ground! It is safer to put a little amount of dry sand on someone on the surface!”

The kids looks ashamed. One tries to say something, but Bitty’s ice cold stare cuts them off.

“Stava dormendo, for fuck’s sake!” Bitty bites out.

The word dormendo sounds like the French word dormir, which means sleep. Bitty’s right, though. Jack was fast asleep and he didn’t notice a thing. It’s a good thing Bitty was yelling so loudly.

“Uh, hello?” Jack calls out, “Can we go back to this whole sand situation? I kind of want to get out of here.”

Jack doesn’t know if these young Italian kids can speak English, or if they just understand what Jack said because of the context, because the moment Jack finishes that sentence, the kids turn on their heels and bolt.

“Siete degli stronzetti del cazzo!” Bitty yells. He gets up to chase after them but then he realises that it would mean leaving Jack buried in the sand and he stops himself.

“It’s... fine.”

“It’s not,” Bitty sounds frustrated. He’s right, but Jack’s just too used to saying that things are fine when things are clearly not fine.

And he is not fine now. It’s a good thing that the tide is low as well. Really, what the hell were those kids thinking?

“Really sorry about this,” Bitty says and to Jack’s surprise, Bitty starts digging with his bare hands.

“Not your fault.”

“I know, kinda. Still. It feels like at least someone should apologise to you for this shit,” Bitty says and Jack is amazed when Bitty grabs a chunk of sand and tosses it into the sea.

“Thanks. And, uh, it’s fine if you need to get a shovel or something. I will survive.”

Bitty tuts.

“Nonsense, honey. I will not leave you unattended, which makes me wonder where the hell the lifeguard is.”

Jack hadn’t even thought of that.

“Well, start with the upper body then. If you free my arms, I can dig out my legs.”

“Oh, good looking and smart!” Bitty says with a wink, but then he continues as if nothing’s happened and Jack blinks a couple of times. Bitty did just call him good looking, right?

“I have a master’s degree in history, yeah,” Jack blurts out and unfortunately, Bitty’s still digging out his arms, so he cannot slap his hand against his forehead. Why does he have to bring up his degree? Is he trying to impress him? Why would Bitty care about his master’s degree in history anyway?

But Bitty does sound interested.

“Oh yeah? What do you do now, then? Are you one of those fancy historians?”

Jack barks out a laugh. It’s far from it.

“No. I play hockey.”

“Really?” Bitty’s smile widens, “So do I.”

“Professionally?”

Bitty laughs. It sounds like music to Jack’s ears.

“Oh, I wish. No, just for fun. Ice hockey, right?”

“Yes! You play?”

“I started out as a figure skater and switched to ice hockey,” Bitty explains.

“That’s really cool,” Jack says honestly. The two sports are very different, so it must’ve been an impressive switch.

The two of them talk about hockey and Jack learns that even though Bitty likes playing, he doesn’t really pay attention to the professional hockey world, which relieves Jack. They’re so invested in their conversation, since Jack is always 110% when it comes to hockey and Bitty loves to talk, that they don’t realise Bitty’s dug out most of Jack’s upper body until Bitty accidentally scratches Jack’s chest.

Bitty pulls back his hand in shock and he stares at Jack with wide eyes.

“I… Sorry.”

“No worries,” Jack says.

Now that the upper part of his body has been freed, he’s able to sit up and shake off some extra sand. He rolls his shoulders and stretches his arms. Oh, freedom!

He also runs his hand through his hair to get rid of the sand there, but it’s no use. The moment Jack’s fully free, he’s going for a swim and then he’s going to take a shower.

He wants to thank Bitty for helping him. He wants to tell Bitty that he can take it from here.

But when he turns to Bitty, Bitty’s in awe. His eyes are still wide and he is definitely checking Jack out now.

Jack doesn’t mind at all. He knows he looks good. He’s comfortable in his skin and the appreciation is a nice bonus. He usually doesn’t try to care that much about what others think of him, but with Bitty, Jack likes to be seen.

When Bitty realises that Jack’s noticed, he starts to sputter out some words, but Jack just laughs.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know?” he says, hoping that it comes off as flirty. Jack isn’t always the best with words, but he’s had to endure enough of Ransom and Holster’s PowerPoint Presentations on flirting to at least pick up some things.

Bitty turns as red as his swimming trunks, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead he moves to dig out Jack’s legs and all plans of telling Bitty to leave fly out of the window. Jack does help him and after a short amount of time, Jack can move his legs too.

Bitty burst into laughter when he sees Jack’s yellow water shoes, though.

“They’re practical!” Jack says.

“They sure are a choice, dear.”

Bitty gets up and holds out a hand. Jack doesn’t necessarily need to be helped up, but he cannot deny Bitty.

“Freedom!” Jack yells out, which makes some people stop and stare. Bitty laughs again and Jack realises that he likes to make Bitty laugh. He wants to make him laugh some more.

“Well mister…”

“Zimmermann,” Jack supplies.

“Zimmerman. Mister Zimmermann, what will you do with this newfound freedom?”

Jack turns his head towards the sea. The water is gorgeous and inviting. He already knew what he wants.

“Join me for a swim?” he asks and he holds out his hand. Bitty takes it.

--

Half an hour later, and after a short shower at the beach showers, Jack and Bitty walk towards the accompanying beach club and Jack realises he doesn’t want this to end. He wants Bitty to stay, but before he can ask, Bitty beats him to it.

“I don’t want this to end. Do you?” he asks.

“I don’t want that either,” Jack admits.

Bitty turns red again, but a huge smile also breaks out on his face.

“Great. So, then, can I buy you a drink?”

“Yes!”

Bitty orders since Jack’s Italian is kind of horrendous.

“Oh honey, I have so much to teach you,” Bitty says as they sit down with their drinks.

“Yeah?” Jack asks. He likes the sound of that. He likes the idea of seeing Bitty again.

“How have you been surviving in this country?” Bitty jokes.

“Barely,” Jack deadpans and Bitty snorts, “Note to self, don’t fall asleep on the beach.”

“To be fair, I don’t think a lot of tourist websites include that tip,” Bitty says with a smile, “Although, may I say that a part of me is glad that those shitheads buried you in sand?”

“Yes,” Jack says, “You may. I am glad too.”

It was still a shitty thing to do, but it brought him and Bitty together.

And Jack moves his hand closer to Bitty’s, hoping that it isn’t too forward. It’s just the touch of the fingertips, and he’s certain he’s read the situation correctly, but you can never be too cautious. Luckily, Bitty has an enamoured look on his face and he puts his hand over Jack’s.

All things come to an end, and Bitty has to go. His family is throwing a BBQ and Bitty promised he’d be home early so that he could help out. They finish their drinks, and then walk hand-in-hand to the exit, but Bitty stops them there.

“Can I get your number?” he asks.

Jack agrees that that’s a great idea. They quickly exchange numbers and promise to call each other.

“Well then, bye,” Bitty says and he does an awkward wave.

“See you later,” Jack says and winks.

Bitty once again turns red, but then he turns around and slowly walks away. Jack watches him go with a fond look on his face. Jack is very happy about how this day ended. He didn’t come to Italy to find a date, but he’s not complaining at all.

He does realise there’s a way to make this day even better.

“Wait!” Jack yells and runs after him.

Bitty turns around and he raises an eyebrow. Jack stops right in front of him.

“Did I forget anything?” Bitty tilts his head in confusion.

“Yeah,” Jack says nervously, but then he thinks, fuck it.

He cups Bitty’s face. Bitty’s dark eyes widen when he realises what Jack is planning. He tilts his head in anticipation and he puts his hands on Jack’s arms. Jack leans in to kiss him.

It’s a small and soft kiss, but it’s perfect.

Jack kisses him again, and again.

Eventually, Bitty’s phone starts buzzing and they reluctantly stop.

“That’s… that’s probably my mama,” Bitty sounds flustered, “I should get going.”

“Yeah,” is all that Jack says.

“But I’ll see you. Tomorrow, preferably. I know a great trattoria for lunch.”

“Yeah,” Jack says again, “Text me the address. I’ll be there.”

“Can’t wait,” Bitty says and they kiss one last time before Bitty’s phone plays its ringtone. His mother must be really impatient.

They say their goodbyes and Jack watches Bitty turn a corner and he’s gone.

For now.

Jack lets out a happy sigh and he walks back to the beach so that he can pack up his stuff. His phone buzzes. It’s Bitty, who sent the address.

> See you tomorrow! A domani!

Jack can’t wait.

--

End notes: Thank you @martsonmars for providing me with the Italian translations. Here's the original English:

- “What were you guys thinking? Where are your parents? This is incredibly dangerous!” - “Are you alright? Oh my God, I am so sorry. These kids think they’re funny, but no worries, I am going to get you out of there-” - “He was asleep, - “Fucking assholes!” - See you tomorrow!

It was very nice to have 6 different versions of "Fucking assholes!" to choose from. Anyway, thank you for reading!

[willdexpoindexter]

It Had To Be You

Kent decides to start the new year off right: by seducing his best friend. It doesn't go quite as planned.

~~~

 It’s twenty minutes past midnight on New Year’s Day, and Jeff Troy is in his absolute favorite place in the world: sitting on a couch with Kent Parson.

 They’re a little tipsy but not drunk; they decided to forgo any big parties this year and instead stayed in and watched When Harry Met Sally, though the movie ended an hour ago and Kent’s huge flat-screen TV has been cycling through generic landscape photos instead and Kent’s toes are tucked under Jeff’s thigh as they chat about nothing.Kent’s toes are tucked under Jeff’s thigh as they chat about nothing.

 There’s a lull in the conversation and Kent looks over at him. “I never got the point of New Year’s Resolutions. New year, same Kent. Just gonna keep fucking up my way through life.”

 “You’re not a fuck up,” Jeff says, like he always does.

 “Sure,” Kent replies, just like he always does. One of these days, Jeff is going to get him to agree.

 Kent sighs and leans his head back on the sofa taking another swig of his beer, probably long since gone warm. “Staying in was a good idea but I could really use a lay. It’s been ages.”

 “It’s the middle of the season. You complain about this every year.”

 “Yeah, well, doesn’t make it suck any less.”

 Kent opens his eyes and looks over at Jeff.

 Jeff raises an eyebrow. “What?”

 “We could always kill two birds with one stone.”

 “Oh?”

 “Could be fun! You know, just a little stress relief between friends.”

 “Kent…”

 “Come on, come on! Talk dirty to me, Swoops.”

 Jeff looks at his best friend, his best friend who he’s also a little bit in love with — and who he wishes cared about himself as much as Jeff does — and he takes a chance.

 “You are valid and deserving of love just as you are.”

 Tears spring to Kent’s eyes and Jeff immediately knows that this didn’t go how he wanted it to.

 “What the fuck, Jeff?”

 And he knows it’s serious because Kent never calls him Jeff.

 “Kent, it’s not that I don’t wanna hook up with you. It’s that it would never just be a hookup for me and I can’t do that.”

 Kent stares at him, his eyes still wet, and Jeff waits to be kicked off the couch, out of the apartment, even out of Kent’s life. He waits for something, expecting anything and everything — everything except what Kent does.

 Which is to close the gap between them and kiss Jeff softly, like he’s something fragile. Something precious.

 His eyes flutter shut on their own and it takes him a moment after Kent’s lips have disappeared from his to open them again.

 Now it’s Jeff’s turn to ask: “What was that?”

 Kent gives him a crooked little smile. “New year, new Kent.”

 “Really?”

 “Maybe this is the year that I finally let myself,” Kent took a deep breath, “ask for what I want.”

 “And what is it that you want, Kent?” Jeff asks, leaning closer but not quite closing the difference.

 “It’s always been you,” Kent whispers. “Just didn’t think you’d want a fuck up like me.”

 “You’re not a fuck up,” Jeff says like always.

 “Sure,” Kent says, but there’s a glint in his eye that tells Jeff he might actually believe it this time. “And what if I was your not-a-fuck-up?”

 “We’ll work on the wording,” Jeff says with a smile and leans in to kiss Kent again. “Happy new year, Kent.”

 “Happy new year.”

[vitaliskravtsov]

Okay, so it goes like this:

Kent was 18 when he did contract negotiations for the first time. Really, it was mostly his agent who did the work because his brain was still halfway left in a hotel bathroom in Montréal, and he just sat and looked pretty and agreed that millions a year sounded good. There's things he's not allowed to ask for, and things he's not allowed to say, and he gets around that by not saying anything and not asking for anything.

He's pretty and living out the rest of his life in Vegas doesn't sound like hell. Probably, he's going to be with this franchise for the rest of his career- especially since the Aces are just starting to yank themselves up into some kind of decent team. He makes it five months (really 4 and a half, but five sounds better, makes him sound less pathetic for starting to build a home) after the start of the season. He's just starting to have a favorite diner, just starting to look for a house to live in that isn't owned by someone ten years older who's played for nearly every team on the West Coast, excluding the Schooners.

It's 7 in the morning on a Tuesday, and he almost doesn't pick up the phone because he's in the middle of trying to decide what mug he wants to use, and Maureen will call back.

He picks up, and it's maybe one of his worst decisions of the month, because Maureen is saying an awful lot of words, but Kent's only really heard four:

Trade

Montréal

Habs

Flight

So he's leaving at some stupid hour of the morning and .

There is a moment where he is inordinately glad that he never really finished unpacking because he was waiting for when he got his own apartment.

There is a moment on the plane where he is glad that he had French Canadian teammates who wouldn't speak English past 9 at night if there wasn't a game.

There is a moment, standing in the airport and looking around at the gates, when he feels like he never left.

He cries in a bathroom on the other side of customs and then splashes water on his face, buys a coffee, and rolls himself, his suitcase, and his media smile to where the captain of Zimms'- Jack's- Zimmerman's favorite original six team is standing.

"Hi," he says, and hopes the roughness sounds like he got wasted his last night in Vegas and not like he spent the last 12 hours crying. "I'm Kent."

[ransomholtz]

Kent's dad is a physicist. He talked all about forces and molecules and other science shit that Kent never cared about, but his brain took notice. His brain took notice and he has a theory.

It goes like this:

There are infinite universes, every millisecond of every day has infinite possibilities of what could happen, and for every possibility there is another universe, and then in that universe every millisecond has infinite possibilities and there are infinite universes built off that. Okay, that's not Kent's theory, but he thought of it before he heard it. It’s a viable theory. Science knows that. Kent's theory is that somewhere, in one of those universes, he gets to be happy.

Somewhere, there is a Kent Parson who gets to be happy. Somewhere there is a Jack Zimmermann who never overdosed. There is a universe where both of them get to be happy, from the start.

Somewhere, Kent Parson and Jack Zimmermann play for the Montreal Canadiens and they always have, sign their contracts together, spend their lives together. Somewhere, they are still inseparable, still cling to each other like that’s the only way they know how to breathe.

Somewhere, they stand side by side in red, blue, and white uniforms, crowd cheering as they hold up the Stanley cup, together. With a C on one chest and an A on the other. Somewhere, Jack kisses Kent on TV, and it’s the exact opposite of what he felt when he saw that in reality.

Somewhere, there is a Kent Parson who doesn't hate himself for the one that got away.

[rhysiana]

It's Throwback Fandom Friday in the DMs!

(discussing the latest X Ambassadors song)

rhysiana: They're from Ithaca. Holster must stan

betweenthepies: yes ofc

Rans probably knows and are into them too hundo p

rhysiana: Absolutely

betweenthepies: Hey Child also hurts (and is fic fodder)

rhysiana: So many X Ambassadors songs contain fic titles

betweenthepies: genre: fic titles

rhysiana: It's an important musical niche

betweenthepies: we wouldn't be anywhere without song fics

also back to holster - so many remixes of their stuff exist he's definitely having the time of his life

rhysiana: Since we know Holsom read fic, I propose: it's his signature as a fic writer that all his fics have X Ambassadors titles

betweenthepies: yesssssssssss

boom (all lowercase of course) is either the hardhitter ficlet that blows you away with only 500 words or the 200k+ longfic that has been destroying his fandom for years

rhysiana: We know he's not stressed about his classes, I vote for the longfic. It's what he works on while Rans is melting down about a test he's going to ace.

To get meta with it: Holsom fic told in the form of Holster's author's notes at the beginning of each chapter

betweenthepies: Omg yesss that's genius

rhysiana: It's probably fic for, like, 30 Rock, but I'm simply not willing to watch an entire sitcom to flesh out a fictional man's fictional fic

I do feel like I should at least write this convo up as a Tumblr post, for nostalgia's sake

betweenthepies: for us old hands in the OMGCP fandom

[ashes0909]

Current Obsessions: Star Wars (Prequel Era, TCW Era, Kenobi the Series, Ahsoka the Series; Obikin); Marvel (all ships); Good Omens; RWRB; OFMD

a guide to my fic

TUMBLR FIC:

Check Please (web comic)

omgcp: jack/bittle

Champion of Blushes

Harry Potter

hp: draco/harry

Communication Cube

Oh How the Tables Have Time-Turned

I fear…

Marvel Ficlets

mcu: steve/tony

Hold Your Hand

Denial

A Battle

Union

Nightly News

Little Ketchup

chocolate, storm, and warm

travel, Canada, animal

raspberry, snow, flowers

sunshine, piano, hug

HP/MCU Crossover AU

The Beat of his Pounding Head

Adverse Anniversaries

The Telepath

Enlisted Omegas

Landline

kitten, chocolate, sunshine

Possessive + Shield = Love 

A Little Hocus Pocus

Scientific Method

McJailbait

“I am eating bread and crying on the floor.”

mcu: tony/bucky

relief, lost, and found

blue, sunflower, and wonder

monochrome, light, and star

Possessive, Protection, Paperwork

sunburn, piña colada, stingray 

fracture, scream, cry 

lost, angry, armed

humor, magic, Brooklyn

tender, green and trust

A Little Sweetness

“I am crying and the onion is laughing.”

“This blond man has stupid ideas.”

“I do not need to read your terms and services to accept you.”

mcu: steve/tony/bucky

Night Terror Routine

Relinquish, expectation, punish

chocolate, pillow, snow

hand sanitizer, belt, panic

mcu: clint/bucky

penguin, marshmallow, cuddle 

dessert, embarrassment and knives

banana, coffee table, golden retriever

mcu: clint/phil

Photo

mcu: gen fic

Planet Z - Natasha, Sam, Bucky

Heels - Bucky Barnes

Red White and Royal Blue

rwrb: alex/henry

The Death of Me (with Kneepads!)

The Sweater

Star Wars

sw: obiwan/anakin

“Please take my jacket.”

Nightmares

“I do not trust men in suits.”

Master of Arts

sw: gen and obikin

Star Wars Tumblr Posts

Yuri!!! On ICE

yoi: viktor/yuuri

Crash and Yearn

AO3 FIC:

Marvel Cinematic Universe (156)

Yuri!!! on Ice (8)

Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid (6)

Supernatural (6)

Harry Potter (5)

Star Wars (4)

Check Please! (Webcomic) (3)

Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston (3)

방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS (1)

[justlookfrightened]

Fic rec friday

tagged by @onetwistedmiracle

Rules: Share your top fics no matter how big or small - give us the links to your wonderful words with the Most hits/Most kudos/Most comments/Most bookmarks /Most words/Least words

Also share your fics with the fewest hits/kudos/comments/bookmarks to give them some love!

My addition: if one fic would by rights hold multiple spots, go to the next one on the list!

*Notes: I limited works to the OMGCP fandom, and disregarded "Bits 'n' Pieces," which is a collection of unrelated Tumblr ficlets. I also disregarded the separate but related ficlets I wrote as direct responses to Year 4 updates (or they would take up almost all the "least" slots).

Most hits and kudos: Neighbors (Zimbits, T, 23,911 words) Jack and Bitty first meet as neighbors in the same building in Providence.

Next most hits, most comments: Can't Hardly Wait (Zimbits, E, 52,346 words) Done as a daily posting challenge between May 19 and July 5, 2016. Apologies for formatting and editing errors.

Next most kudos: Comedy of Errors (Zimbits, G, 13,225 words) Bitty and Shitty move in next door to Lardo and Jack. Misunderstandings ensue.

Next most comments: Make It Good (Zimbits, M, 27,871 words) Sequel to How Hard Could It Be? in the first part, Jack and Bitty meet online during the COVID-19 lockdown. In this part, Bitty moves in with Jack, having never met him in person before.

Most bookmarks: Locked Out (Zimbits, T, 63,414 words) Jack and Bitty meet when Bitty locks himself out of Lardo's car in Providence while Lardo is out of town.

Most words: The Long and Winding Road (Zimbits, T, 65,502 words) Jack and Bitty get to know one another again, two years after their relationship imploded

Fewest hits and fewest kudos: Small (Jack and Bitty pre-slash, G, 1,017 words) Bitty reflects on the meaning of the word "small."

Next fewest hits: Birthday Surprise (Zimbits, G, 5,710 words) Bitty arranges a surprise party for Jack's 30th.

Next fewest kudos: Second Zimbits Bingo Card (Zimbits, G, 8,127 words). Fic based on fulfilling unrelated prompts, bingo card-style, into a semi-coherent whole)

Fewest comments: Puppy Steps (Zimbits, G 2,153) Jack and Bitty adopt a puppy.

Fewest bookmarks: Wasn't Expecting That (Zimbits, T, 1,719 words, major character death) Bitty copes with Jack's death after 50 years together. It's sad, but I love this one.

Fewest words: "Fo-inne!" (Zimbits, G, 717 words) Bitty gets his first fine.

tagging: everyone who wants to do this!

[doggernaut]

...like a Disney World for people who are in that in-between stage of going to Disney World with their parents and going to Disney World as parents, but with loveseats and bunk beds instead of Space Mountain."

Went on our annual trip to IKEA today and remembered I wrote a little Zimbits ficlet about Jack's first trip to IKEA like a million years ago.

[cricketnationrise]

Congratulations on 500 followers, babe! It's awesome that you're doing another ficlet fest. Here's my prompt:

Time: 1:30 a.m.

Location: Hollywood

Character: Alicia Zimmermann

Song lyrics: "Another name goes up in lights; you wonder if you'll make it out alive" from "The Lucky One" by Taylor Swift

Rating: T

HI BABE <3 I love this prompt, and I hope you like where it led me! There's never enough Alicia content, so I was really excited for the excuse to write some. 💜🦗

read the rest of the ficlets here!

🏒🏒🏒🏒

1:30am, hollywood

Alone in the back of a taxi, finally hidden from the view of the cameras, Alicia lets her head fall back against the headrest with a heavy sigh. 

It’s been a long time since award shows were fun, since after parties were anything other than an obligation pushed onto her shoulders by her agent. Tonight had been especially harrowing: enough meaningless small talk to make her want to tear her hair out, not enough food, and toast after drunken, incomprehensible toast. It was hard to believe that Alicia had ever liked the crush of people; that she had, at one point, craved this part of being an actress. More and more, her perfect idea of a late night features a warm body next to hers, a cup of chamomile, and a delightfully trashy romance novel—not backhanded compliments and uncomfortable shoes. 

Above all, Alicia is tired.

Tired of the run around, tired of the hustle, tired of spineless directors and co-stars that didn’t bother to learn their lines. Tired of constantly getting her picture taken, tired of being hounded by the press, tired of being critiqued on everything from her outfit to her choice of project. Tired of the endless travel, tired of remote filming locations, tired of never being in the same time zone as her apartment for more than a week at a time. There just has to be a way for her to have more control over her career. Surely she’s paid her dues by now.

At least her taxi driver isn’t trying to make conversation, or ask for an autograph—either option was liable to send Alicia over the edge tonight. She frowns as they pass a billboard for a new movie, starring some girl she’s never heard of. Blown up to larger than life, it’s impossible to miss the excitement in the starlet’s eyes, the yearning for more. Alicia feels tears gathering in the corner of her eye and looks away hurriedly—when was the last time she had felt like that?

She still loves acting, is the thing. Still loves throwing herself into a character, really connecting with their desires and fears, breathing life into someone who would otherwise just be words on a page. Still loves becoming someone new. But everything else that comes along with being an actress makes her want to scream.

Finally at her hotel, Alicia pays the driver and makes it up to her room in a haze of exhaustion and general torpor. She changes into pajamas and brushes her teeth on autopilot. It's only as she’s reaching over to turn the bedside light off when she notices the red blinking light of the answering machine. 

It’s probably her assistant. Maybe her agent. Both of them have been in constant contact on this press tour, keeping her in the loop on travel changes and adding more “quick appearances” to her schedule that end up being several hours and completely draining. But if she doesn’t check it, she’ll miss something important. With a defeated groan she checks the machine, tension leaching out of her when a man’s voice comes from the speakers instead of any of her all-female team’s strident tones. 

Hi, euh, hello, Alicia? This is Bob Zimmermann, we met last week at that terrible premiere?

Alicia actually finds herself grinning as Bob’s Quebecois accent and stumbling words spill out into her hotel room, his genuinely hesitant and careful words wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t know him from Adam at the premiere party, but a shared eye-roll during the director’s meandering thank you speech prompted her to wander over once it was done. The warmth in his brown eyes was reason enough to keep talking to him after introducing herself.

The message rambles a bit about how awful the movie was (he’s not wrong, it positively reeked of studio interference) and a bit about how his hockey team did this week before he clears his throat. The change in tone has her listening with bated breath. 

I know timing is going to be an issue for both of us, but I really enjoyed talking to you last week, and I’d love to take you to dinner and get to know you sometime— Sometime soon, eh?

He leaves the number of his hotel for the next two days and his pager number before saying goodbye. Still grinning, Alicia scribbles down both numbers and turns off the machine. She turns the light out and settles into bed with his voice echoing in her head and thinks. 

A single, unlooked-for message, the possibility of a date with an interesting man, and Alicia feels lighter. And more determined than ever to make some career changes — she wants to love her job again, just as much as Bob loves hockey. And she’s been around long enough, has enough clout, that she really thinks she can change her job to suit her desires. 

Resolved to sit down with her agent as soon as she’s in the same city again, she closes her eyes, replaying Bob's message in her mind as she drifts into sleep. 

Bonne nuit, Alicia.

[appalamutte]

mr. bittle (read on ao3)

He can feel Bitty’s chest rumble with laughter. “Mr. Bittle.”

“Again.”

“Mr. Jack Bittle.”

(zimbits, 2.2k words, fluff without plot)

[forabeatofadrum]

Here it is, fic rec friday! I said I was gonna do this! I don’t know if it’ll be a weekly thing, because it depends on whether or not I read fics in a week. Also, to prevent people from being overwhelmed by tags, I don’t think this is going to be a tag challenge, but of course feel free to also make your own post with recs!

Strap in Klainers and Snowbazzians, cause here we go. It’s another long one! Happy reading!

@cerriddwenluna​ wrote Swipe, a funny one-shot about Kurt and Blaine meeting through Tinder. Sort of. Look, it has a tiny plot twist. You have to read it for yourself 👈(ﾟヮﾟ👈).

I read more of Gwen’s stuff! I started Bem Vindo a Portugal, previously known as Klaine in the Netherlands which became Klaine in Portugal. I do not mind, Gwen, and if you ever need more help with Klaine in the Netherlands, please have this: klompen, windmolen, kaas, tulpen, kroketten! Jokes aside, though, I am excited to get to know Portugal. I’ve never been here, but my mum actually visited Lisbon for the first time a few weeks ago and she was very excited.

There are quite some Marta fics I still need to read (goblin!Baz is still somewhere buried in my Likes), but I am going through them! I read The Vampire and the Boy in the Tower and I am speechless. It is so good. Oh my God, Marta created a wonderful universe with a lot of angst, but also hope.

I still have Klaine Advent fics to catch up on, and I read @snarkyhag‘s WIP. I... don’t really know how to link it, since there isn’t a masterpost or a separate Tumblr tag or an AO3 entry yet, so for now, have the Klaine Advent 2022 tag! Yay, Klaine and Samcedes!

Another cute story is Tipsy Truths by @aroace-genderfluid-sheep​. Simon confesses his feelings for Baz through a drunk text. Oh boy!

Apart from reading fic, I also love reading people’s thoughts about fic. @facewithoutheart​ had a nice extra about This Will All Go Down In Flames over here. (Also, Fuck The Mage, kinda). @cutestkilla​ also shared some Humdrum insider information here. It’s really cool to see what parts of canon have been expanded on for What’s Left. And @captain-aralias​​ also has some behind the scenes stuff here on Four Funereal Weddings and an American Stag Do. I adore the fic (and the suits!).

I am also losing it over the “HELEN!!!!”s in The Wellbeloves by @ionlydrinkhotwater​. This is a comic where Simon and Agatha are siblings. I am so emo about Simon having a lovely family and this is so fun.

Unfortunately, I also come with angst. A post on my dashboard led me to This Will End in Flames by @bloodiedpixie​ and uhhh yeah MCD warning. Simon dies in Wayward Son. I need... a moment... to lie down and weep. I see there is also another installment in this series where Baz dies, but I’m not strong enough for that now.

Now, for something no one asked for! This is another thing that I saw on my dashboard, but apparently a group of people started a project in 2016 called Sarah Jane Neverending, which is an extension of the Sarah Jane Adventures! (Kind of like Class: Ongoing, I guess.) (Whovians, man.). SJA got cancelled in 2011 and it was very unexpected, since Lis Sladen, the main actress, died. Back then, three more episodes were already planned and I know that over the years fans have asked for novalisations of those stories, so that they could at least be seen as canon. That never happened, so I guess some fans took matters into their own hands. I have only read their season 5B stories, aka their version of the 3 unproduced episodes. I will see if I will also read their completely fanmade season 6 and 7. But yeah, season 5B. Damn. The Thirteenth Floor fucked me up in particular.

And lastly, there might be some smaller ficlets or drabbles that I won’t mention in these posts, but I will redirect you to my fic tags on my main blog: Klaine fics (klfics), Brittana fics (bsfics), general Glee fics (glee fic), Whoniverse fics (dw fic), Check, Please! fics (omgcp fics), Simon Snow series fics (co fics), and the general fic tag (fics). And here’s the original writing tag, because why not. I do put a lot of stuff in a long queue, so the tags might now always be “up to date”.

Also, guys, I need you to know that I was going through the generic fic tag, retagging fics that needed to be retagged, and I found a Snowbaz fic from the Fangirl days and it was tagged as Bazon. BAZON.

AND OKAY, one more thing. When I was cleaning out that rusty tag, I also came across this fic called And In The End by @scrunchyharry​ (Klainers might remember the name fleurdelisse). It’s over ten years old, but I remembered it immediately. I might’ve even printed it out 10 years ago. Like, I am pretty sure I have a physical copy of it somewhere. Caroline, I see you’ve probably left the fandom, so I didn’t know if I should tag you, but if you read this, please know that even ten years later, this fic makes me so emotional.

[willdexpoindexter]

Bubblin’

the last of the angst ficlets based on the album Heart Murmurs by jeremy messersmith

ao3

----

Lover, I can't say what I mean to say

Lover, I will put all these words away

Lover, I don't know how to make you stay

Lardo’s heart was full, her boys around her making all the best appreciative noises over her junior year art show. Her art friends steered clear of the rowdy hockey boys but Lardo loved them. She stole a look at Shitty in time to see him pull his phone out of his suit pocket. 

Shitty’s jaw dropped open as Lardo watched, the light from his phone reflecting in his wide eyes. 

“I got in.” He croaked. “I got into Harvard.”

The crowd erupted in shouts as Lardo felt her stomach drop to her toes. 

It wasn’t like she hadn’t known he would graduate and leave Samwell, she was painfully aware of that fact every day since they had started hooking up. But it was more real somehow, now. 

Tears jumping to her eyes, she fled the gallery, her night ruined. 

The exit door slammed shut behind her as she sat heavily on the curb and buried her face in her knees. Why did she have to go catch feelings in his senior year? 

She pretended not to hear the door as it swung open again a moment later.

“Lards?” Bitty’s voice called softly. Lardo raised a hand in acknowledgment and waited as Bitty settled on the curb beside her. 

They sat in silence for a moment, then Bitty said, “Makes it real, doesn’t it.”

Lardo choked out a laugh, even though it wasn’t funny. 

“Harvard isn’t far, at least,” he offered.

“Still not Samwell, though.”

“It’s not.”

Another moment passed before Lardo lifted her head and looked at her friend. He opened his arms and she leaned into him, desperate for the comfort he offered. 

“I forget they’re leaving sometimes. But of course they are. Doesn’t make it any easier to stay behind,” Bitty continued, stroking Lardo’s hair soothingly. 

“I think I love him,” Lardo whispered. 

“Oh, honey,” Bitty sighed. “Have you told him?”

She shook her head into his shoulder. 

“Maybe you should.”

Another shake.

Bitty didn’t press, just kept stroking her hair.

“I think I love him, too,” he said after a moment.

“What a pair we make,” Lardo mumbled. “Loving boys who are leaving.”

“What’d we go and do that for?”

“If you figure it out, you tell me, deal?”

“Deal,” Bitty agreed. “Now why don’t you come back inside and enjoy your show before those dumb boys of ours get concerned.”

Lardo gave him a watery smile and let him help her to her feet. She should enjoy the night while she had him. 

Together, they went back inside.

[vitaliskravtsov]

ok yk what it was fun last year lets run it again even tho we are way past Spotify wrapped season

Send me a number 6-100 and an omgcp ship or character (if you wanna, you don't have to pick a ship/char if you don't want) and I'll write you a ficlet based on that song in my wrapped