talk to eric

Shitty borrows Jack’s computer sometimes, that’s nothing new. What’s new is the untitled folder just sitting on his desktop. It can’t be porn. He set up Jack’s porn folder himself. So, he knows it isn’t porn. But who keeps an untitled folder on their desktop?

Jack. Jack Zimmermann keeps an untitled folder on his desktop. An untitled folder filled with pictures and iMessage screenshots of conversations with Bitty. The pictures are mostly of Bitty, though some group shots of SMH and some others are thrown in as well. He has pictures of Bitty baking in the Haus, of Bitty walking across campus completely oblivious to the camera pointed at him, of Bitty doubled over laughing on Jack’s couch. Very rarely does Bitty seem to be aware that he’s being photographed, and yet the lighting is perfect, a calm sort of happiness seems to be radiating off of him. None of them are dated, none of them are titled. Each photo holds a memory of a person in love.

For the first time, Shitty realizes this is exactly how Jack sees Bitty all the time. Like he’s the most precious thing in existence

anonymous asked:

Since bitty is (I think?) the first openly gay player in the NHL in the fics, what about other players hitting on him when they play the schooners, or even better, during the all star game when jack is right there?

The game so far has been nothing memorable, just another pre-season exhibition against Edmonton that neither team really want to give their all because why risk anything before the season even starts?

“Bittle,” Burig, a second line Oilers winger, flags Eric down at the end of the second period, with a look of grim determination that gives Eric the sense he’s about to be sucker-punched.


“You, uh,” Burig hesitates, gnawing on his mouthguard and twisting his stick in his hands while he comes up with whatever he wants to say. He huffs and looks around for any teammates that might be watching the exchange, finding the rest of his line distracted, he leans in close. “You doing anything after the game?”

Eric blinks. “What?” 

“Just,” Burig shrugs, face flushing pink, “wanted to see if you’d like to grab a drink or something.”

“Oh. Oh!” Someone from the bench yells his name and Eric is faced with a dilemma he knows he can’t resolve in the next 15 seconds. “Wait for me after the game, we can talk.”

Burig nods tightly, beet red, and skates back to his own bench.

Just another thing for Eric to think about while coach yells at him for missing an unnecessary pep talk.


Burig is waiting for Eric when he leaves the locker room, hair still damp and his suit slightly rumpled like he’d thrown it on in a rush, which makes Eric feel worse for some reason.

“Hey,” he perks up when he sees Eric, sliding his phone into his gear bag. “You wanted to talk?” He sounds so earnest it hurts and Eric motions to a meeting room just off the hallway.

“It’ll be a bit more private in here.”

Eric doesn’t waste time when the doors close, Burig isn’t the first player to approach him and he certainly won’t be the last.

“You’re very sweet, but I have a boyfriend.”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Burig curses, shouldering his duffel bag. “No way someone as hot as you is single. Worth a shot, right?”

“Were you looking for a hook-up or?”

“No, not like that, I just kinda,” he hesitates like he’s afraid of saying too much.

“Safe space,” Eric waves his arms to indicate the empty room. “Be honest.”

“I’m tired of Grindr and puckbunnies and bar hookups, you know? I want something real.”

Eric immediately runs through a list in his mind of the few single players he’s met in similarly awkward situations. “You play in Vancouver next week, right?”

Burig’s eyes go wide and Eric holds up a warning finger. “Hold your horses. I may have a friend in a similar situation, but it’ll be on his terms if he wants to reach out. Give me your number, and I’ll pass it along if he wants to meet. Okay? No promises.”


“You want to tell me why we’re watching Vancouver slaughter Edmonton when we could be doing literally anything else?” Jack bemoans from the couch, poking and prodding at Eric to distract him.

“I’m invested, alright? You plant seeds, you watch ‘em grow.”

The clock runs out on the second period and Eric keeps his eyes trained on Vancouver’s goalie, Crivier, who waves Burig over in a moment of calm. The two talk, barely visible over the shoulder of a commentator, but moments later Burig skates away with a very prominent smile on face. 

“And boom goes the dynamite,” Eric whispers, grabbing the remote to switch over to the new season of House of Cards.

“You playing matchmaker again, Bits?” Jack laughs, pressing himself against Eric’s side and nuzzling at his neck.

“You know how much competition you’d have if I didn’t set up all the guys that hit on me with each other?” Eric breathes, sliding his fingers through Jack’s hair. “I could have a harem.”

Jack groans and squeezes Eric tightly. “I’ll fight everyone,” he murmurs, “even the guys I like.” 

Some time in the future, Jack and Kent make up, move on from their past, and are good friends again. The annoying part of that is that Kent comes to visit quite often, which drives Bitty insane, but he’s glad that Jack and Kent are good again, so he doesn’t say anything. 

Tater, knowing how much Kent annoys Bitty, offers to help him out by keeping Kent distracted so he isn’t hanging around the house the whole day. Tater doesn’t like Kent much either, but he’s willing to make sacrifices for a friend (and pie!).

The surprising part, though, is that once Tater actually gets to know Kent off the ice, he finds that they get along really well. Kent enjoys spending time so much with Tater that he keeps using the excuse of visiting Jack to come to Providence.

When Tater and Kent do eventually date, they decide to keep it to themselves for a while. Tater finds himself in a difficult spot because everyone thinks that he still hates Kent, and like, 15% of his bonding with Bitty is complaining about how awful Kent Parson is.

So, they date… secretly. Except, it’s really hard because every time they want to do something, they always run into Jack and Bitty.

Like the one time Kent and Tater were out at a fancy restaurant that Jack and Bitty also happened to be at. Tater barely had time to stuff Kent under the table before either Jack or Bitty saw. Of course, Bitty wants to stay and chat, and Tater has to carry on an entire conversation with a straight face while Kent is sucking him off.

Or, the other time they went for a walk in the park, and Tater has to push Kent into the bushes when he sees Jack and Bitty coming up the path. (Kent had angry scratches on his arms from the brambles, but Tater made up for it later.)

Or, the one time that they decide to stay home, and  Bitty unexpectedly shows up with pie because he had a bad day and he needed someone to vent to, and Tater has to pretend he wasn’t just in the middle of sex.

When they finally reveal their relationship, Jack is flabbergasted because he hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary and Bitty is a bit miffed that Tater didn’t tell him sooner (but he gets over it and he brings over celebratory pie).

i know the whole “Ollie and Wicks getting the attic dibs” plot line was just to add a little twist to the Nursey & Dex sharing a room drama, but for Bitty’s senior year there are going to be SIX huge ass hockey guys living in the Haus. bitty is going to be cooking meals for a whole family of hungry hungry hippos. idk bout y'all but this feels like everything he’s ever wanted but also that boy is never studying again rip bitty’s gpa

I can’t even imagine what it must have sounded like –
the alarms, the gunshots, the screams, the begging,
the praying, the laughter, the cheering, the crying.
I know the sound of Eric’s laugh. I know the sound
of Dylan’s voice. I’ve heard a fragment of a recording.
And I still can’t piece it together enough to hear the horror.

I can’t even imagine what it must have looked like –
the muzzle of a Tec-9 in your face,
the black boots walking past you as you hide under a table,
the boy in a trench-coat, in the hallway, with a shotgun.
Blood on the floor and blood exploding out of someone’s head,
and blood pouring out of a hole in someone’s back.

I can’t even imagine what it must have smelt like –
metallic blood, the stench of open wounds,
smoke from pipe bombs, shit and piss and sweat,
your own body odour, cafeteria lunch food,
linoleum floors, body spray, the inside of a toilet cubicle,
the inside of a storage cupboard, the smells of school and death.

I can’t even imagine what it must have felt like –
begging for your life at gunpoint while the killer laughs,
watching children being murdered
right in front of you, seeing TV violence in real life.
Closing your eyes and listening to people dying and begging
and crying and praying and whooping and whispering.

Realising that you might actually really die right here,
on the floor of a library, in an unlocked science room,
in a toilet stall, under the table of a cafeteria. Trying to pray
to any god listening that you want to live, please, please, please.
But what good did it do the other children? What good did it do
for the kids you heard getting killed?

Running out of the library and past a dead body and past
another dead body, with your hands above your head,
so the police don’t shoot you, of course.
Standing by a cop car with the images still playing in your head,
and the sounds of gunfire still ringing in your ears,
not knowing if your friends are dead or alive.

Being faced with cameras and reporters and microphones,
and an unending barrage of questions:
What did you see? What did you hear? How did you feel?
What happened? Do you know who the killers were? Why?
Where were you? What did you do? Did you talk to the killers?
Were you friends with the killers? Do you know the Trench Coat Mafia?

I can’t even imagine what it must have been like
to actually be a student or a teacher or a reporter or a photographer
or a cameraman or a journalist or a copy editor or an editor in chief
or a police officer or a SWAT team member or a paramedic or a nurse
or a doctor or the parent of a victim or the parent of someone injured
or a friend of a student or a bomb squad member or a family member.

We’ve all seen the chaos unfolding, live on the news.
We’ve seen the police standing behind cars and we’ve seen
students running for their lives, students bleeding on sidewalks,
parents hunting for children, parents hugging their kids,
people standing around and crying and holding one another,
ambulances racing and sirens blaring and cameras rolling,
but imagine living it.
—  Dear Columbiners, not everything is about Eric and Dylan, s.b.w.

Sometime in January when the falconers are flying cross country for a roadie and Jack is sitting quietly staring at the clouds out the window, the thought of his future with Bitty slips casually into his mind. That in itself isn’t unusual. He thinks about Bitty a lot and brainstorms cute things that might make him laugh, but for some reason this time it’s more of a calm, assured feeling of I’m Going to Marry This Boy. It isn’t scary. It isn’t surprising. It isn’t even sudden. It’s a quiet moment of happiness, of accepting that yes he gets to have this and knowing he wants to keep this for the rest of his life. That is the moment Jack decides that someday, however far into their future it may be, he’s going to ask Bitty to marry him.

NHL!Bitty, Pt. IV - RPF

@missweber requested NHL!Bitty dealing with Hockey RPF. This got a little longer than expected, with a side pairing of Jack/philly-cheesesteak. Takes place a few months into Bitty’s second season with the Schooners. 

Origin: From Samwell to SeattlePart I - Hug Check | Part II - Chirping | Part III - Post-Season

The most annoying thing is that for all of the ‘Jack/Parse’, ‘Jack/Tater’, ‘Jack/Sid’‘Jack/fucking-every-player-on-the-east-coast’ fic, there are a whopping SIX  ‘Jack/Eric’ fics on Ao3. Six.

On one hand, Eric’s proud they’ve hidden their relationship so well, on the other, Eric is insulted. But really, with their disappointing portmanteau of ‘Jeric’ or ‘Zittle’, it’s not surprising they’re horribly under-appreciated.

“I just wish my fans were more creative.”

Over Skype, Eric watches Jack plow through a Philly cheesesteak with no small measure of jealousy. He’s lonely and hungry, and his asshole boyfriend is doing this on purpose.

“You know,” Jack says, talking out of the side of his half-full mouth, “if you let the Schoons call you ‘Bitty’ our name could have been ‘Zimbits’. That’s kinda on you.”

Keep reading

now i really need to know about bitty and religion. like is his family religous? is bitty himself religious? coming from the south should i just assume he’s either baptist or mormon? if he is religious this obviously plays a role in how not only his family would view him as a gay man, but how he views himself. @ ngozi release the religious backstory on bitty

anonymous asked:

(Before zimbits becomes canon) Okay so imagine Bitty and Shitty having a talk in the kitchen about women-taking last names after marriage. Then Jack being the doof he is walks in and is casually like 'haha what about zimmerman' and bitty is internally like 'oh heck yea i take that name' and jack is internally 'why the heck did i say that'

Bitty and Shitty were sitting in the kitchen taste testing Bitty’s latest creation and talking last names.

“I get it, Bitty. I totally get it. Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean you have to take some person’s name. But some people like tradition and the whole becoming a family thing.”

Bitty laughed, enjoying watching Shitty pretty much have the entire conversation with himself. It was always entertaining to watch Shitty discuss whatever was on his mind from every angle.

“Fuck, Bitty, this pie is good. What about you? If you were with some guy and you guys got married, would you want to take his name? Or what if he wanted to take your name? What would you do?”

Finding his pie suddenly very interesting, Bitty pushed it around the plate, trying to find an answer. “Um….I think it would depend on who I was marrying. I kinda like my last name. What about you? Would you ask you wife to take your name?”

Shitty smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Are you serious? Me? She can have it if she wants it, Knight is an awesome last name. But I wouldn’t mind taking her’s either.”

“Knight is a pretty awesome last name. I’d take it if we got married.” Bitty teased. “Might make it a hyphenate, though.”

“Knight-Bittle? Nah, Bittle-Knight is better.”

“I like Knight-Bittle. Using, Bittle, first sounds like a teeny knight.”

Shitty laughed and was stealing another piece of pie when they heard Jack’s voice at the door. “What about Zimmermann?”

Bitty was silent as Jack looked him in the eye and Shitty pushed a chair out for him. “There’s a lot of legacy to that name. I think I could live up to it.”

Jack took a seat and Bitty handed him a slice of pie, trying not to make eye contact. He hoped if he just nodded along and let Jack and Shitty banter, Jack wouldn’t ask him what he thought. He’d had a crush on Jack for so long now, he wasn’t sure what would come out of his mouth if Jack asked.

Jack took a bite of pie and stared down at the table, cheeks red. “ flavor is this? It’s, it’s good.”

Relieved to have a new subject, Bitty babbled about how he was trying something new and how glad he was that Jack and Shitty had liked it. Soon after that, they all moved onto a new subject and Bitty could breathe a sigh of relief.

If he was truly honest, he’d jump at the chance to take the Zimmermann name. Shitty was right, it had a legacy, but it was a good one. Even if they hyphenated it, it still sounded good and Bitty would by lying if he said he’d never imagined it.

Bitty stood to start cleaning up and Shitty disappeared muttering something about helping Lardo. Jack carried the plates over to the sink. As Bitty washed, Jack dried and nudged Bitty with an elbow. “Everything alright, Bittle?”

“Of course! Just thinking about what I need to study next. Got distracted with the pie and am probably a little behind.”

Taking the dish from Bitty’s hands, Jack pointed to the door. “Go. I’ll finish here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go, BIttle. Can’t have you getting behind.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

“You’re welcome, Bittle.”

bakery au (oldie but a goodie)

Part 1

“He hates me,” Bitty moaned, flopping on his couch. Holster was raiding his kitchen, listening to his rant about Jack Zimmermann.

“I don’t even know what I did wrong! Maybe it was because I told him that he played a hard game last night the first time he came into the bakery? All he does is glare at me and say stuff like ‘Eric, the coffee is too sweet,’ or ‘Eric, you need more protein.’”

“Brah, maybe Zimmermann just has a total resting bitch face,” said Holster as he pulled out a leftover pie from Bitty’s fridge. “Guy seems fucking intense. At least he’s good for business.”

“He keeps on glaring at me! And he comes in, like, three times a week. Orders a coffee and just drinks it in his corner, ignores my attempts at conversation even though, mind you, he has already said some pretty rude stuff!”

“The guy’s a celebrity, he probably has his head so far in his ass and doesn’t care about shit, and also just wants some privacy. Bits, you haven’t been taking pictures of him and posting it on twitter have you?” Holster asked, alarmed.

Bitty gasped, “Adam Birkholtz! I would never!”

“Then just treat him like an antisocial customer, he can’t be the only one going to the bakery who doesn’t want conversation and just wants service and food,” Holster said, dropping down next to Bitty on the couch with two tins of pie.

“I know,” Bitty sighs. “He’s just…so handsome. And he was so nice to Nursey when that fool tripped. And he tips generously. And he’s just so gorgeous, even when he’s glaring at me and speaking in grunts whenever I ask him how his day has been. I just want him to like me!”

Holster navigated the TV to a rerun of Golden Girls and handed Bitty one of the pie tins. “I think that’s your problem. You’re an amazing person, Bits, but maybe you can be a bit too friendly for resting bitch face robozoid Zimmermann. Maybe stop asking him about his day and just let him chill.”

Keep reading


Dongwan: “What doctors can’t heal, the members can“.
That’s why Shinhwa is the longest-running idol group, going strong since 1998 & forever. Shinhwa isn’t just a boy band who’re together just to sing. Shinhwa is way beyond that. They are a real family & the members care for each other more than even what real family members do .. ♥
Look at how they cared for Dongwan who was sick & tried to make him laugh again! only real friends do that or even notice or care that their sick friend laughed.
& that’s why Shinhwa is friendship goals. The time when you wish to have friends like them. Real friends who’ll put you as top priority in their lives, caring for you in ur hard times & doing their best to cheer you up. Such a true life-long friendship.
Thank you Andy, thank you Leader Eric, thank you to every member in Shinhwa for always being there for each other & for giving us good examples of true friendship in this life ♥

fifty-shadesofgay  asked:

au where Bitty starts a pretzel franchise, but the lax bros started a competing pita franchise at the same time and they have a fancy food truck so people go to them instead. and Bitty gets so sad that his franchise isn't doing well that Jack eventually decided to get the literal mafia to step in and help business.

1) I wish I could think of a good pretzel pun for a business name

2) We’ve been talking about the mafia so much in Italian class I almost typed my reply in Italian, if there’s any sign I need spring break it’s this

Eric William Morris interview for WMCX 88.9 FM The Factor

Eric William Morris (who played the Squip) talking about be more chill and it’s rising popularity (source)

also this line killedme:

 “it was also one of those things that when we were done everyone in the cast and creative team were like…oh…well… cant we just keep doing it?”