so for the longest time I’ve enjoyed the way ngozi has given smh significant numbers for their jerseys. like how we all love that holster and ransom are 4-11 respectively because they quite literally give us the 411 on hockey shit in bitty’s first year.
but I only JUST noticed that shitty’s number is 42, which for all you non hitchiker fans out there, is the answer to the question “what is the meaning of life?”
this could either refer to the fact that shitty is a little existential (though he’s no johnson), and likes to answer questions about the world in a way smh giggles through with good-hearted amusement. or it could refer to the fact that shitty is one of jack’s few real friends, and certainly one of his first ones at samwell. he was responsible for getting jack a little more out of his shell, aggressively befriending him and making his life worthwhile again. so alternatively, the meaning of life is shitty - is friendship.
Jack is…big. With time and distance and schedules that refuse to cooperate, Bitty forgets this sometimes. Jack is diminished on the computer screen when they Skype, or through the phone when they call. Bitty sees him and hears him and forgets, sometimes, the exact dimensions of Jack’s broad, broad shoulders.
And, oh, they’re broad. And solid. And strong and smooth and hot beneath Bitty’s hands.
Summary: Where two lovers fake a proposal to get dessert and it goes viral. This is based by the new viral tweet.
Requested: “One where you and Jack make a fake proposal to get a free dessert but a fan sees and videos it so they can share the the cute moment and everyone freaks out thinking they’re actually engaged.”
Note: I broke into my best friend’s house last night because she forgot to leave the door open for me, while she is at work. She died when I told her I climbed through her bathroom window😂
Jack sighed, setting down his editing on his laptop. It was Saturday night and he had the worst week of his life, nothing was going right. From meetings, to cancelled meetings, to running around after the boys, to filming videos and lastly, not seeing you for a week in a half and not speaking to you in four days.
All he wants is to be with you. He knows how stressful you have been; he loves that you’re doing a major in photography but he hates that you stress yourself so much out with it. He also knows that you have an exam coming up and knows you won’t be sleeping because you have to get everything perfect, the smallest of things would make want to start over again.
It wasn’t until he watched someone fake a birthday, that he could the best idea ever.
Scrambling up to his feet, he glanced at the clock seeing it was only six, if he planned this out perfectly he would get to yours around ten to seven depending on traffic. Taking a shower, dressing in his best clothes and grabbing his keys, he was out the door by half past and already on route to your apartment.
As reached your apartment he heard Conor’s old album playing around the apartment, he remembered the day he asked you why you listened to it and you said, “The faster I do my art, the faster I can stop listening to it.” He couldn’t stop laughing when you said that and never fails to tell that story when he’s with the gang.
Stepping into the apartment, Jack closed the door and made his way into the living room. He leaned up on the door frame, smiling loving at his girlfriend who was dancing and singing softly to Royalty around the living room picking up photos and placing them on black boards.
“As much as I would love to stand here watching you all day, we my crazy baby are going out.” Jack spoke up, an amused look on his face watching you jump around to face him with your arm in the ready to attack.
You slowly put your arm down and pulled Jack into a hug, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I missed you too.” Jack mumbled into his girlfriend’s hair. “But get dressed up fancy, we are dining like King and Queens.”
“Why?” You mumbled looking up at Jack,
Jack grinned unwrapping his arms and stepping back, “We need some fun. So get your cute little ass in that room and put on that sparkly red dress, do your make up and let’s go. The meal is booked for eight.”
You nodded your head and made your way to you room but stopped turning your head over your shoulder, “I’m not crazy.”
Jack’s laugh echoed the flat, “You were going to attack me with a photograph.”
Glaring at him, you stomped into your room where a little smile on your face appeared on your face from hearing Jack chuckling to himself.
45 minutes later you waltzed out of your bedroom doing a twirl for Jack who was making camera noises and gasping. Laughing you turned to face him with a smile on your face, “How do I look?”
“Fucking beautiful baby.” Jack smiled, the look of awe pure on his face. “Do you have a fancy diamond right by any chance? I have a little plan for tonight.”
“Aren’t you suppose to buy the ring, if you’re going to propose?” You teased with a smile but took off into your room to get a ring.
“When I buy you a ring, you’re going to know about it.” Jack smirked holding his hand out for the ring.
“Oh? Will I?” You smirked back.
Jack just laughed grabbing your hand and pulling you out your apartment, “Why do you need this ring anyway?”
“Want to get some free dessert?”
“Free dessert? Hell yeah.”
Jack has been relaxed and smiling the whole entire evening and he notice he and manage to make you relaxed and happy. Which is all he had wanted to come out of this meal, to make you happy.
As you got up to the toilet, Jack called the waiter over and told them about the proposal and just like Jack wanted they offered him a few desserts, which he could not say no to.
By the time you got back to the table Jack was grinning like a mad man, you smiled and sat back down in front of Jack with a questioning look. “Why you looking at me like that?”
“Time to get our free dessert.” Jack whispered before getting down on one knee. Your hand flew to your mouth in fake surprise, as people around the restaurant gasped.
Jack smiled widely looking directly into your eyes, “Y/N Y/L/N, you are my love of life and I couldn’t think of anyone else to spend it with. Will you marry me?”
Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded your head, holding your left hand out so he can slide the ring on your finger. Jack stood up and kissed you lovingly as the restaurant clapped and cheered for you both. As Jack broke away from the kiss he whispered against your lips, “When I propose for real, it will be ten times better than this.”
Laughing you pulled back smiling at the couples and families in the restaurant as Jack thanked them all sitting back down. The waiters came towards your table congratulating you and handed you a bottle of champagne and gave you some dessert with “Congratulations” on the plates.
As you were eating Jack looked up towards you with that cheeky smile on his face, “I told you it would work.”
You smiled at him, “I’m glad we did this, I need this. Thank you.”
“Why don’t I go pay and me and you will take this bottle of champagne home and have a night in bed?” Jack smirked at the blush raising on your cheeks while he got up to the bar to pay.
When you and Jack walked into his apartment you both didn’t expect to be tackled onto the fall by the older Maynard screaming at the two of you. “You’re engaged! I’ve been waiting for this moment since you started going out two years ago!”
“Conor!” Jack shouted pushing his brother onto the floor getting up himself, then helping you up.
“We aren’t engaged.” You laughed at the look of his face.
“Um, yes you are. The video of Jack proposing is all over twitter and Instagram, some fan caught you.”
You and Jack laughed to yourselves as you walked into his living room. “It was fake Con, we did it to get free dessert and to have fun.”
“You proposed to get free dessert? Are you fucking stupid? Why not say it was your birthday?” Conor asked leaning against the door.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Jack asked smirking as he threw himself on the sofa, turning his head towards you, “Looks like I’m going to have to explain we aren’t actually engaged.”
You nodded, taking off your heels walking into his kitchen to get glasses. “We should wait till your next video, keep them guessing.”
Conor shook his head in disbelief at the two of you while Jack pointed at you, “This is why she’s my girlfriend.”
“Whatever.” Conor sighed making his way to the door, “Your both fucking crazy and when you propose for real, don’t expect me to excited for you guys.”
You and Jack heard the door slam before giggling to each other. That night you and Jack spent the time in bed watching films but mostly you spent your time talking about the future and you will always remember the words Jack spoke to you that night.
“When I propose, I will be damn if royalty isn’t the theme.”
Jack kept to his promise and Conor failed his. It was two years later and Conor was playing a music gig down on Brighton beach, he was in the middle of singing royalty. When he noticed you and Jack down the back of the beach, Jack on one knee and you screaming the word yes over and over again. He stopped singing for a moment too lost in what was happening before it all clicked, he started screaming and jumping on the stage like a fangirl but he swears he never cried.
NEW YORK, NY - MAY 17: ‘Shondaland’ stars Kerry Washington, Jack Falahee, George Newbern, Josh Malina, Scott Foley and Tom Verica pose backstage with the cast at the hit musical 'Dear Evan Hansen’ on Broadway at The Music Box Theater on May 17, 2017 in New York City. (Photo by Bruce Glikas/Bruce Glikas/FilmMagic)
The Preschool Teacher! Yes, you voted and, with 36.5% of the vote, this is the next chaptered story! If this is not the story you wanted and you did not vote…vote next time. :) If you did vote for a different prompt, I am keeping the results and that is the order I will write future chaptered stories in, unless a new idea pops into this head of mine first.
All of the prompts I gave you to vote on were from novel imagines I’ve already written or started. This one I created in March and have yet to finish, although I story-mapped it a few days ago to keep me on track.
My inspiration for this story was a voice…the voice of Harry’s son. I kept hearing it in my head, and actually searched for two hours to figure out where I had heard it, because I knew it was the voice of Harry’s son in my head. I’ve pinned it down to being similar to the voice of Peppa Pig (the young Harley Bird, when her voice was still scratchy and raspy and she talked a bit slow like Harry does sometimes)…don’t judge me, I work with young children for a living. If you want to hear the voice before you read the story, youtube Harley or Peppa when she was younger (Harley is 15 now), and listen. That was my inspiration for the entire novel.
I have had huge anxiety about posting another chaptered story! This chapter has been finished for a couple of days, but I’ve had to continually convince myself to post it. I’m nervous, I think because For The Love Of Harry did so well, maybe you won’t like another chaptered story I write. Beginning chapters can sometimes be more informative, but I hope I don’t bore you in the build-up.
So, without further delay, I hope you enjoy this first chapter of “The Preschool Teacher”! If you do, please like and reblog, and I promise to have chapter two available very soon!
Bitty misses Jack. That’s an understatement, really. Bitty aches to be in the same room with Jack, to touch warm skin and calloused hands. Computer screens and phone calls just aren’t enough.
Jack smiles tiredly from across the country in Anaheim, propped up against the headboard of a hotel bed, laptop illuminating his face with unnatural light. Bitty wants to caress his face, watch those beautiful, sad eyes droop close and listen to Jack’s breath even out. He wants to run fingers through slightly wet hair, ease the tired muscles from a long game. Bitty just wants to be there, to be in the same time zone.
“What’s wrong, Bits?” Jack murmurs, fighting to stay awake.
Bitty amps up his own tired smile and shakes his head. “Nothing, honey. You played a good game tonight, you should get some rest.”
Jack frowns, pushes himself up to sit a little bit straighter.
“Something’s bothering you. Tell me?”
Bitty sighs, absentmindedly picking at the pilling fabric of his pajama pants.
“I just miss you,” Bitty whispers, avoids making eye contact. They tell each other this all the time, every day, but it’s different this time. He hasn’t touched Jack in over a month and his chest feels tight every time he remembers that.
“I miss you too,” Jack replies in the same hushed tone. Bitty knows this is just as hard for Jack but Jack is better at hiding his emotions. “I’m flying back in two days and then we have our bye week, remember?”
Bitty nods, wiping at the tears starting to spill down his cheeks.
“Oh, mon chéri, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Bitty finally looks up and sees the love so clearly on Jack’s face that it gives him strength to keep going.
“Get some rest, hun. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
22 26 or 30 for ways u said i love + deximbits or Nurseydex - ur choice
Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave
Bitty’s visiting Lardo, again. The expansion draft didn’t turn out the way they wanted. Now Jack’s stuck in New Orleans, Bitty’s angry or sad more than he’s actually around, and Dex is just—stuck. Stuck in an apartment too large for one person in a city he barely knows. He spent so much time unpacking and decorating when they first moved here, now it feels like a waste. He thinks about how long it would take to box everything up, and ship it down South.
Bitty would be furious.
Dex’s working a lot of overtime lately. He works until his supervisor or HR kick him out. He calls his family a lot. They’ve started asking what wrong.
“You should come visit,” Dylan told him the other day. “Portland’s fucking beautiful right now.”
Maybe there was more Jack could’ve done, or more Dex should’ve said before Jack told his agent he was ready for anything. Dex just assumed that Providence wouldn’t let go of their most valuable player.
Dex makes dinner. It’s some rustic new age twist on empanadas from that food delivery subscription Jack got Bitty a while back. He doesn’t feel like putting the TV or record player on. Background noise has gotten too cold lately, forced and completely artificial. The clanking of his fork keeps him company. The meal is supposed to feed four. Dex packs away the rest in the fridge; he’ll have leftovers for lunch.
He runs five blocks to the gym, lifts weights for a while. He runs to a cafe he found the other week when he got lost. He orders a tea because he’s sick of staring at the unused nespresso machine at home. He finds a corner table where he can rest his head against a bookshelf.
Dex takes a long sip of the chamomile tea with almond milk. It tastes like sunshine and something sturdy yet warm. He closes his eyes, wiping a stray tear away from his eye. He sits in a crowded room for a while, letting the hum of happy people take him somewhere else. Like maybe a stadium in New Orleans or an apartment in Boston with friends who are hardly his anymore.
He walks home slowly, tugging on the drawstrings of his borrowed Falcs hoodie. He vacuums for the fourth time that week. He reads another chapter of Les Mis because it’s Jack’s favorite book, and then watches Sweet Home Alabama until it’s time for bed.
The next morning he calls in sick.
He stares at the apartment for what feels like hours but only adds up to twenty minutes. He packs a suitcase. He starts grabbing clothing for a weekend in Portland. Next thing he knows, he has enough clothing to last him a month. Dex feels a shake in his breath. He takes a few extra flannels he knows don’t belong to him; he rips a jersey off it’s hanger. He takes the stuffed rabbit that’s been collecting dust on the beside table, shoving it into his backpack. He sits on the suitcase so everything will actually fit.
He grabs the thickest winter coat that isn’t his. He storms out of the bedroom. A light glares in his eye. Dex turns his head. It’s the picture of the three of them in Montreal last summer. He throws it so hard across the living room, it shatters against the back wall.
Dex hears a gasp to his right. He pales. He pulls his suitcase toward the door, eyes not meeting Bitty’s.
He feels hands clutching at the coat he’s wearing. Dex refuses to look.
“I’m going to Portland,” Dex explains. “Dylan said I could crash there for a while.”
Bitty moves closer. “Baby—”
“You know the worst part?” he says, barely above a whisper. “You miss Jack. But I miss you too.”
“Baby.” Bitty’s voice cracks. “You don’t have to—”
“Eric,” Dex says firmly. “I can’t right now. I just—can’t.”
“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much. I’m sorry. I never wanted—I was just so mad about things that don’t matter. I’m sorry.”
“That’s ok,” Dex assures him softly.
“No it’s not.”
“I should go.”
Bitty nods, biting his lip as he reluctantly lets go. Dex moves toward the door.
“I love you,” Bitty says one more time.
“You can’t even ask me to stay,” Dex says before he leaves.
Bitty doesn’t go after him. Dex breaks down in a train station bathroom. He buys a ticket heading south, unsure if it’ll make a difference.