This is a shoutout to all the Mystic Messenger headcanon/imagine/scenario/fanfic or general writing blogs. I appreciate every single one of you. It’s not easy writing, especially when we’re trying to be original and add our own personal style and flair. On top of that, we do it for free. So thank you for your contributions to the fandom and making things fun with your creative imaginations. <3
Seven remembers everything, but suddenly the RFA are all experiencing a strange bout of amnesia. Why doesn't anyone else remember the love he shared with her?
You knew that Zen would be coming home from filming relatively soon. He had been away for a few weeks shooting a new film across the country and unfortunately, you still had work to accomplish for his next movie. After you and Zen started living together, you realized just how much Zen had been holding back and refusing to let “the beast” out. That man was insatiable.
Perfect for tonight’s setting: horny and ready for some passionate ‘I missed you so much sex’.
You put on your ‘sex music’ playlist and began to hum quietly to yourself as you prepared for his arrival. You had just bought a new set of lingerie: a sheer red babydoll set. You slipped it over your head, hoping it would be a pleasant surprise for your Zenny. He always said you looked good in red.
As you finished putting on your makeup, you heard the front door open. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest already, and you hadn’t even seen him yet.
“Babe, I’m home!” You heard him call from downstairs as he set his bags down by the door.
“I’m upstairs, Zenny!” You replied walking as calmly as you could to the top of the stairway, standing with one hand on your hip. You saw him shortly afterwards at the bottom of the stairs. His jaw dropped open and he paused for a moment, just a moment, before taking the stairs two at a time.
He greeted you with a very eager kiss, pulling away to rest his forehead against yours.
“You look amazing!” He whispered, voice already low, “Red looks good on you.”
“It would look better on our bedroom floor.” You replied coyly, taking his hand and dragging him into your bedroom. He walked slowly behind you, and you knew he was appreciating the view. If you swayed your hips a little more than normal, well nobody could blame you.
You heard one of your favorite songs come on quietly from the speakers and you were overcome by an idea that was probably going to give Zen a heart attack.
You forced him to sit on the edge of the bed and gently pushed his hands away when he went to grab at your hips. He liked being in control and he growled, displeased.
You began to sway your hips gently like you saw in the music video, running your hands down your front slowly in time with the repetitive beat. Zen instantly sat still, eyes drawn to your hips. You turned as the chorus started, choosing to run your hands through your hair and let it fall back down. You bent over shaking your butt a little and giving Zen a great view. You slowly made your way back up to standing height, continuously undulating your hips. You knew Zen was watching your every move. Dancing for him was new for both of you and you knew he was desperately trying hard not to interfere. After several minutes, you felt Zen’s hands return to your hips, pulling you closer to him.
You looked over your shoulder at him, his eyes were dark and hungry, and you were about to be his next meal.
You turned towards him again, lifting your knees to straddle him. You ground your hips down into his in a slow circle as you pulled his face up towards you, reveling in his low moan. His hands were sliding up the top of your lingerie, resting on your lower back. He was going to let you continue, but you weren’t getting any farther away than this. You grabbed the hem of his shirt as the song faded out and pushed it up over his head. His hands left you briefly, to help you, returning instantly as the offending clothing was tossed over your shoulder. You pushed him back gently, hands resting on his chest.
As the next song started, you smiled. This was going to be torture for your Zenny. You leaned back as the first lyrics began to play, moving your hips in slow circles. Zen moved his hands up, pulling the top of your babydoll over your head, sitting up in the process. Throwing it in the same direction as his shirt. You pushed his face towards you. He looked up at your face, silently, watching you as he took a pert nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it slowly, torturously, eyes glinting as he watched your facial expressions. You placed your hands in his hair, encouraging him to continue. He switched to the other breast, replacing his mouth with his fingers.
Your breath was becoming ragged and you could feel your face flush. Zen was taking his time, regardless of how desperate you were both quickly becoming. When he was finished teasing your nipples, he moved his way up your neck, biting and sucking as he went.
You moaned quietly when he found the spot he knew you liked and bit on it gently.
“Baby, as much as I love the attention, I think your mouth is going the wrong way.”
Zen huffed against your neck, sending a cold burst of air directly onto the spot he was abusing. It sent a poorly hidden shiver down your spine.
“You’re so impatient for me already?” He asked pulling back with a devilish smirk. “As your music choices have been suggesting, we have all night. I just assumed that’s what you wanted.”
He was staring at you with a faux innocence that was betrayed by the passion in his voice.
He kissed you on your lips then, taking his time to explore every inch of your mouth with his tongue as his hands continued their ministrations on your breasts.
He moved back down to the other side of your neck, sucking and biting just as he had before. Zen slid his hands down your hips and gripped you firmly. You knew what was coming, but still let out a small squeak of surprise when he flipped you onto your back with a low moan.
You let him kiss down your chest again, while you began to work at his belt buckle, deliberately reaching down farther to let your hand brush against Zen’s erection. He hummed against your skin, pleased that you were finally giving him some much wanted attention. You weren’t able to give him attention for too long however, because once his belt was undone, Zen quickly removed it and his pants and returned to you again. His mouth was making its way slowly down your body. Zen was making sure that you were covered evenly in kisses.
He reached your abdomen and dipped his tongue down into your belly button, idly tapping his fingers on your hips, as if he was forcing himself to take his time tonight.
When he reached your hips, he teased you a little more by biting at the elastic on your panties. He sucked hard into your hipbone, leaving a rather large hickey. You moaned quietly and unconsciously bucked your hips up towards him.
“Patience, honey,” He mumbled against your hip, meeting your gaze as you stared down at him, “it’s been a while, I want to make sure you feel good tonight.”
He worked his way down your thighs, stopping to place a small kiss at each knee. He kissed his way back up, pulling your knees over his shoulders as he went.
Zen mouthed at you through your panties and you desperately bucked into him. He firmly held your hips to the bed as he licked you up and down slowly. You squirmed desperately trying to get more pleasure from his mouth than what he was currently giving.
You huffed impatiently.
“Stop teasing me.” You whined.
You felt him smile broadly as he moved your panties to the side.
“As you wish, my princess.”
You bucked up against him when he finally, finally, put his mouth on you properly, licking your clit in small, slow circles.
“You’re such a good boy.” You mumbled between moans, your hands flying to his hair. He responded to the praise with a long groan, that you felt go through to your core.
He picked up his pace and moved his fingers towards your slit. He slid two fingers into you without warning, never stopping his tongue from working on your clit.
“You are such a good boy.” You cooed again, moaning as he bent his fingers in just the right way. You arched your back, breathing heavy. You were getting close and apparently Zen knew it too.
He continued to hit that sweet spot until you were seeing white, knees shaking.
“Zen… I’m so …” You didn’t get to finish that statement. Your back arched up against the bed, hips thrusting against his tongue and fingers. Your head fell back in a silent scream as Zen continued to work you, slowing down to let you ride out your orgasm. He only stopped and removed his fingers from you when your tremors stopped completely, sucking on them as he watched you recover.
“You look so good like that baby…” He whispered quietly as removed his boxers and he slowly crawled over you. He kissed you deeply as he lined himself up properly, sucking gently on your bottom lip.
He slid in and both of you moaned into each other. He was right, it had been a long time and you both were needy and panting.
You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he began to move.
“You feel so good, Zen, baby.” He responded with a growl, and sat up to get a better angle. He began to thrust into you steadily, gradually picking up his pace as he went. He grabbed your hips to help steady him. You drug your nails down Zen’s chest and back, leaving small red marks that only you would get to see. Your panties rubbed against your already overstimulated clit in a steady rhythm. Your second orgasm would not take long.
He grunted as he thrust into you, his thrusts becoming erratic. He fell forward, panting, bracing himself on one arm. He was close, you could tell when he started mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. You kissed him passionately, chasing release with him as he continued to thrust into you. You felt the pleasure beginning to swell inside your abdomen once more. You grasped at the sheets, the bed frame, Zen, anything that could ground you as your orgasm started to build. Zen groaned loudly and bit down hard onto your shoulder. You came hard, throwing your head back as your body tightened around the man inside you. You felt him stutter, then come shortly after, collapsing on top of you as he finished.
You wrapped your arms around the silver-haired man, holding him close to you as you regained your breath. After several moments, Zen lightly kissed your shoulder, pushing off of you. You began to doze off until you felt Zen stir beside you again.
“As good as you look right now, I need to get you cleaned up before we can sleep.” He muttered as he walked towards the hallway. He came back into the bedroom moments later with a wet washcloth. He shut off the music and grabbed one of his shirts and two sets of his pajama pants.
He set the clothing on the bed and you watched him as he began to clean you up. He gently removed your dirty panties and took extra care to stroke gently to your still sensitive lower body. After he had finished, he grabbed his shirt and handed it to you.
“Here princess, you are going to get sick if you don’t put some clothes on.” He mumbled, yawning as he helped you dress. He tossed a pair of pajamas pants towards you and put the other pair on himself. His clothes were always way too big on you, but he always insisted you looked cute in them. Zen climbed back into bed and kissed you gently on the forehead.
“I liked the new lingerie.” He whispered.
You nodded, still dozing off.
“I missed you so much. I love you.”
“My Zenny,” you mumbled, settling yourself against him and cuddling into his chest. “I love you so much.” He grunted in response as he fell asleep holding you in his arms.
Jack loved his job as one of Samwell High school’s history teachers. He loved working with the kids. They all seemed to really love him as well, even if he was notoriously known as one of the strictest and most difficult teachers in the whole school. Most of the students viewed him as tough, but fair, and they all knew he would drop anything to help a student who asked politely even though he looked terribly intense 90% of the time. The fact that Samwell’s hockey team had been ranked number one in the nation every year since he started coaching was just an added bonus.
He sat in the teacher’s lounge during his lunch break, thinking of some questions for the test he was going to give on Tuesday. He needed to be able to get the kids thinking about history and it’s importance, while also weeding out the students who cared from the students who didn’t. He bit into his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, thinking while he chewed.
“I saw him Lardo! He’s tiny! Jack here could probably dead lift him, easily.” Jack looked up from his notebook to see two of his co workers walking towards him, having a heated discussion about him apparently. Shitty (or Mr. Knight as the kids called him) was passionate about gender studies and politics. He was the speech and debate coach at the high school and the kids, especially the seniors, loved him. He was basically a giant kid himself but also had a lot of wisdom to share with seniors who were having crises about graduation and college. Larissa Duan, or Lardo as Shitty affectionately called her, was one of the most talented artists Jack knew. She was one of the teachers in the art department. She also helped out with the theater productions fairly often. The students loved her casual demeanor and her don’t-take-no-shit-attitude.
The two sat down across from Jack, nodding in lieu of greeting, and continued their discussion as if Jack wasn’t sitting there at all.
“I don’t know, Shitty. He looks pretty fit, even though he’s really tiny. He might surprise you. He’s probably a tiny ball of fire and could hold his own.” Jack looked at them curiously. Shitty had his hair up in what their students called a “man-bun” and some of his hair was coming loose from the passion of his argument. Lardo looked bored, as though she had been having this discussion for way too long.
“Look all I’m saying is our canadian-hockey-god Jack has been playing hockey since he was like 2 weeks old. His dad is Bad Bob for heaven’s sake! Do you really think that little of Jacky here?” Shitty replied, his hands moving rapidly as he spoke.
Jack cleared his throat. “What are you guys talking about, eh?”
Shitty turned towards him then and smiled. Jack had a feeling that he was not going to like where this was going.
“Some of the students have this crazy idea that the new Home Ec. Teacher, Eric Bittle, could totally kick Jack Zimmermann’s ass at a game of hockey.”
Jack felt himself smile. Shitty was right, Jack had been playing hockey since he was a baby. The only reason he didn’t go professional was a mishap leading him to overdose during the year he was supposed to be drafted. Most NHL teams didn’t want that kind of publicity and Jack, though a little disappointed, didn’t blame them. So he did the next best thing and became a teacher away from the public eye and a coach to their high school hockey team.
“Excuse me, but my team has been nationally ranked for five years! There’s no way.”
“That’s what I told her, dude. Lardo just won’t listen.”
“I saw him on the ice, Jack. He’s quick and speedy. He certainly won’t go down without a fight.”
Jack and Shitty made eye contact then and both began laughing.
“No chance, Lards. Jack here is just too good.” They finished their lunches while chatting, discussing the possibility of someone beating Jack Zimmermann in a game of hockey. Eventually the topic changed and by the time Jack left for his next class, Shitty and Lardo were discussing some of the other rumors going around the school, like who the principal was sleeping with and if Holtzy and Ransom were going to kill all the students during physical education.
He was thinking about this Bittle guy on the way back to his classroom. The guy must be pretty tough if the students thought he could compete with Jack Zimmermann. He decided to forget about it. He hadn’t even met the guy yet and it was nothing to be stressed about.
The students were filling into his 1 O’Clock class and were preparing for a rough lecture about the American Civil war. Jack was writing the homework assignments on the board when he heard a quiet knock on the door. He turned and saw a short blonde student staring at him, leaning against the doorframe as if he owned it. Jack tried to recall if he had a new transfer student, but couldn’t remember. He certainly had never seen this student before, he knew all of his students’ names and faces at the very least. While Jack was wracking his brain about the possibility of missing an important email about a transfer student, the blonde started speaking in a slow southern drawl.
“Heard there’s a rumor going around about us.” Jack’s heart started to race. He could not lose his job over an obviously false rumor about him and a student. Telling himself to breathe calmly, he watched as the blonde walked towards him. He had never seen this kid before, he would have certainly remembered that accent.
As the ‘kid’ stepped forward, Jack realized that he was older than initially believed. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least rumors spreading about him and an adult weren’t illegal and wouldn’t get him fired.
“Eric Bittle, home economics.” The short blonde reached out a hand. Suddenly Jack wasn’t anxious, he was angry. This is the guy that the whole school, including his loyal and faithful friend Lardo, thinks can take him on in a hockey game? The guy was 5’5” at best and Jack was a whole head taller than him. Jack was also wider and more defined. He still worked out every day and even played with the students during practice. This guy looked like he couldn’t handle a spider in the room, let alone a check into the boards.
Jack took the proffered hand, trying to be civil in front of his students, all of whom were staring at the exchange with wide eyes.
“You’re the new teacher that everyone thinks can beat me, eh?” The other man just smiled at him.
“Oh goodness.” He replied, blushing, “it’s cause I told ‘em that I played hockey in college. Sorry about that. I wasn’t tryin’ ta cause all this fuss.
The bell had rung by now and class was starting.
“Bittle,” Jack said, accidentally using his ‘coach’s voice’, “If you want to beat me, I’d recommend that you eat more protein.”
The blonde looked down at his feet and mumbled a response that Jack couldn’t quite hear. Jack could tell he was embarrassed. He felt guilty, but before he could say anything Eric Bittle walked out of the classroom without another word.
He turned towards his students who were all watching him apprehensively. Finally, Tony, one of the students in the back of the class spoke up after clearing his throat.
“That was harsh, Mr. Z.”
Jack just looked at them and pretended to smile.
“Guys, he’s played hockey, eh. I’m sure he has heard worse than that. Now time to get going. We have a test on Tuesday and yes, this material will be on it.”
As Jack continued the lecture he realized that he wasn’t into it. He still felt pretty bad about insulting Eric Bittle, and he could tell his students had noticed. Jack released his students five minutes early, an unprecedented move from Strict Mr. Zimmermann. He wandered down to the home economics class, an easy feat if he just followed his nose. He was very happy his class was not closer since he would easily gain five pounds a week if he hung out here more than necessary.
He was going to attempt to apologize for being rude earlier and waited patiently while Eric finished up his teaching. He leaned against the door just as the blonde had earlier, listening to the smaller man ramble excitedly about their homework assignment. Who knew Home Ec kids had homework?
Eric only looked at the doorway when the bell rang. His hand flew to his heart as his eyes landed on Jack’s casual frame. This was ridiculous. This man seriously could not be the guy everyone thought could compete with Jack Zimmermann. He had come to apologize, but he felt himself getting angry again. He knew he was going to say something stupid if he opened his mouth, so he just stood there and plastered on that fake smile.
“Mr. Zimmermann, you scared me! Lord!”
Jack watched as Bittle began to cut into a pie that was sitting on his desk and his stomach growled. Bittle giggled.
“It’s maple sugar crusted apple pie.” Bittle said, “would you like a piece?”
Jack tried to politely decline but was surprised by Eric’s sudden change in demeanor.
“Jack Zimmermann! You do not insult me, then come into my classroom, unannounced, scare me half to death and then refuse to eat my pie! It’s incredibly rude!” Jack was taken aback. He wasn’t going to try to make a scene in front of the students, but now he was at a loss for words. He quietly grabbed the pie out of the smaller man’s hands, refusing to make eye contact. He held the slice for a moment, looking at it, but not eating.
Eric looked at him expectantly after a moment of silence between the two of them.
“Well, I’m assumin’ you came here for a reason?”
Jack continued to look down at his slice of pie, his perfectly styled brown hair falling into his face. He was at a loss for words. Just who was this Eric Bittle? He was incredibly kind and if he were to believe all the hype, could best Jack in a game of hockey. Belatedly, Jack realized that he hadn’t spoken again and was standing next to Bittle, eying his pie as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
“Jack my class is startin’ and I’m sure you have a class of your own that ya need to get back to.”
“Right.” Jack said finally, “Thanks for the pie.” As Jack wandered back to his classroom, he realized that he never officially apologized for his behavior before. He hoped that this slice of pie was a peace offering and decided to accept it as such. When he stepped inside his classroom, uneaten pie in hand, he was met with 20 sets of eyes staring at him in shock. Jack was five minutes late and he never started class late. He set the pie down on his desk and began his lecture as if he wasn’t dealing with the guilt and anxiety from talking to the man down the hall. He would deal with that later.
His last class of the day had finished, but he still had an hour before hockey practice. He usually used this time to grade some papers and give himself 20 minutes of ice time by himself while the hockey team got ready for practice.
He sat at his desk, staring at his uneaten slice of pie. Normally, he didn’t eat sweets, but his mouth had been watering all day from the smell of it. One bite couldn’t hurt, he told himself.
He bit into a piece and huffed out a quiet ‘Bittle’ as the taste hit his tongue. It was quite possibly the best pie he had ever tasted.
There was no way this scrawny, pie-baking, and all-around adorable man could beat him at a game of hockey.
Suddenly Jack had an idea that would excite the students for the first hockey game, raise some money for the Home Ec department, show Eric how sorry he was, and quite possibly settle this debate once and for all.
Jack had just finished morning practice with the team and walked into his classroom to see Shitty sitting on his desk.
“What the hell man!?” Shitty asked as soon as he saw the other man. “You throw a fundraiser for the freaking Home Ec department but you never once have thrown a fundraiser for the speech and debate team! I am so upset. I thought we were friends.”
“Hey, you have never been accused of being able to beat me in a hockey match.” Jack replied, sitting down in his desk chair, looking up at Shitty. Shitty threw the flyer at him.
“So if I want to raise money for the Speech and Debate team, I have to get the students to get your competitive fire kindled?”
Jack smiled wide at that, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head.
“Apparently.” He picked up the flyer and looked at it. He had already spoken with the principal about his idea and she was all for it. George was a sucker for interdepartmental competitions. The flyer was simple, it advertised a pick-up game of shinny. It had a rolling pin and a hockey puck in a face-off circle with the slogan: Puck and Pastries face off. The captains were going to be Jack Zimmermann versus Eric Bittle. Teachers had to pay to play and students had to pay to watch, all funds going to the Home Economics department to help them buy supplies and ingredients, since it was still a fairly new class offered at Samwell.
“I hope Bittle doesn’t care that I signed him up to be a captain.” Jack thought aloud, standing to hang the flyer on his wall. It was one of the few things that decorated his class, and it stood out against the bland brown and tan walls. Good, students would notice it for sure.
“Wait a second, Zimmermann.” Shitty started, coming up next to him to admire the newly decorated wall. “Bitty doesn’t know about this?”
Jack looked at the other man for a moment, shocked that Bittle had already earned a nickname.
“No, I thought it would be a cool surprise.” Shitty patted him on the back and laughed.
“Only you would think playing hockey is a cool surprise, you hockey robot!” Shitty waved goodbye, as kids began filing into their seats for home room. He still had students of his own to take care of after all.
Jack noticed many of the students staring at the wall and then back to Jack. One of the students, Mandy, had the courage to ask about it.
“2 weeks from now Eric Bittle and I will be doing a fundraiser to help the Home Economics department get supplies and ingredients. Tickets will be $1 and all the money will go to help Mr. Bittle set up his classroom properly. I’m sure the Home Ec. classes will also be making snacks and have a bake sale where you can also purchase some food. We figured it would be a good way to get the students excited for hockey season, as well as get some money into a department that’s still really new and needs some help. Plus, you guys are all so curious about who would win in a hockey match, and now we will have an answer.”
The students began to chatter excitedly, asking about how they could get tickets. Jack told them he was still working on the details but his friends Mr. Knight, Ms. Duan, and obviously Mr. Bittle would be selling the tickets during lunch periods the week before. That’s when he heard someone running down the hallway. Before he had a chance to look out to see who it was he was greeted by a very loud “JACK ZIMMERMANN!” and winced when he realized it was Eric Bittle calling out to him. He excused himself and felt his anxiety rising as he stepped out into the hallway.
He was surprised to see a very happy Eric Bittle, who seemed to have a few tears rolling down his cheeks. His face was flushed and he was smiling, holding one of the several flyers that Jack had not-so-inconspicuously left on his desk.
“Mr. Zimmermann, what is this!?” Bittle asked, laughing as he waved the flyer around excitedly, his accent much thicker. His excitement was contagious and Jack couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s a piece of paper.” Jack chirped. He couldn’t help it. He grew up with hockey and they chirped each other all the time. It was a habit.
“I can see that, but I’m askin’ about what’s written on it. Is that true? Are ya holding a fundraiser for the Home Economics department?” Bittle’s voice was suddenly quieter, reverent, as if he didn’t quite believe someone could do something so nice for him.
Jack nodded, offering a fist.
“Welcome to Samwell. See you on the ice, eh?” he said when Eric returned his fist bump. He walked back into his classroom and the students scattered back into their seats.
After the morning, Jack’s day had been filled with excitement. Quite honestly, Samwell High school needed some excitement sometimes. His students were constantly asking him about the fundraiser, happy to support their new favorite teacher as well as their favorite hockey team.
He took his lunch in the teacher’s lounge again, thinking about who could be on his team. The teams were going to be three on three, staff only, with enough to switch out when they were tired. That’s what he had texted to Bittle between classes, at least.
Shitty, Ransom (or as the kids called him Mr. O), and Holster (or Mr. H) walked in then. Ransom and Holster were both giants and both PE teachers, though Ransom also taught some of the Biology classes when he could. The two were practically inseparable, and Jack was hoping they were good at hockey. Holster was on him quickly, asking about who was going to be on his team. Apparently all three wanted in on his team and were willing to pay the fine. Jack already had half his team, without even trying. Bittle walked into the teacher’s lounge looking forlorn.
“Jack, can I talk to you?” He whispered when he caught Jack’s eye. Jack nodded, as a ‘please excuse me fellas’ towards the others and stepped out with Bittle.
He looked nervous, scared even, and refused to look Jack in the eyes.
“What is it Bittle?” Jack asked, trying to quell the anxious feeling rising in his chest.
Eric handed Jack his phone and told him to scroll through all of it. What Jack saw shocked him, mostly. He had been around high school students enough to know this gossip was common, but usually not like this.
It looked like one of those Twitter or Facebook things his students were always trying to show him, but Jack wasn’t sure which one. It was a picture of the two of them from their morning fist bump with the caption: “Have you ever seen such an obvious mutual crush? #icancutthesexualtensionwithaknife #jackhearteyeszimmermann #zimbits.” He continued scrolling, thinking the zimbits thing was clever, even if he wasn’t sure he agreed with it. There were a few pictures from yesterday, one of them shaking hands, one of Jack leaning against the doorframe of the home ec room, one during the Bittle/Zimmermann awkward silence after being handed the pie. The comments were all similar: ‘I’ve never seen him smile like that, unless there’s hockey involved. #hockeyrobot’, ‘Jack is all about that #bittybooty’, ‘Mr.Z ended class early to get bf’s pie #samwellscutestcouple #getitmrz’, ‘Mr. Bittle is lucky. Mr. Z is sooo hot #metoobittle #thoseblueeyes #datasstho’. Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the last one. He was causing more excitement than he meant to that’s for sure.
He looked back at the shorter man in front of him, and immediately felt sorry. He handed Eric his phone.
“Bittle, I should explain something. The students are pretty good at coming up with rumors and talking about the teachers. It’s honestly why I stay off of...what’s it called... social media? Anyways, the kids know I’m not exactly straight and I’m sorry to put you in that situation. They don’t mean anything by it and it will blow over eventually.”
Eric stared at him as though not believing what Jack had just told him. He was quiet for a moment. Jack felt uncomfortable suddenly. Why didn’t he think before he talked? Bittle was southern and probably pretty close-minded.
“I’m not straight either, Mr. Zimmermann” Instantly, Jack wanted to hit himself. What had Shitty always lectured him about? Don’t make assumptions about people, and here he was discussing sexuality with a not-so-straight-southern-gentleman.
“Bittle, I’m not trying to hit on you, I just wanted to do something nice to welcome you to Samwell. I promise, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable okay?”
Eric nodded, seeming to accept that as truth. Jack knew he wasn’t good at expressing his emotions, but he hoped that if he had a crush on one Mr. Bittle, Eric would at least know about it.
“Let’s just let the kids talk alright? I promise it will die off eventually if you ignore it and it’s not a big deal. We can still be civil to each other right?”
“Sure.” Eric seemed a little distant, as if that wasn’t exactly the answer he wanted. Jack watched him silently, unsure how to alleviate the situation. Suddenly, Bittle was beaming at him. Jack took a step back, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.
“You’re on Jack. I get dibs on George and Chow, got it? You’re goin’ down.”
The next few weeks were a blur of motion. Jack felt that he was constantly busy with planning a fundraiser, practice, and his actual teaching duties. It was chaotic, but Jack couldn’t remember the last time he got this involved with the school. He and Bittle had actually become closer, and were spending a lot of time together planning this fundraiser and scheduling practices for each team. He spent the morning on the ice, reflecting on the past few weeks. He had made a new friend/rival (if you could even call Bittle a rival), gotten the school interested in their extracurriculars, and was helping to raise money in a department where there was desperate need. He felt good about himself and he hadn’t felt this good in a while.
He was deep in thought, thinking about the practice he wanted the hockey team to do tonight. He didn’t notice a second pair of skates coming out to join him. It wasn’t until the other person touched his shoulder that he realized there was anyone there at all. He jumped a little, surprised. Bittle’s big brown eyes were looking up at him, concerned.
“Jack I called to you like four times. Are you okay?”
Jack nodded.
“Hockey season is going to start soon. Our first home game is Saturday and I want to make sure our guys are ready for it.”
Bittle skated next to him then, easily keeping up with the pace that Jack had set. Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye. The two skated in silence for a while, slowly picking up the pace and letting their muscles get used to the workout. Bittle began to skate faster and Jack watched. Bittle began to do little tricks, some spin moves that he made look easy. When Bittle had finished, he was panting and sweaty. Jack tossed him a water bottle and raised an eyebrow, silently questioning about what he had just seen.
“I used to be a figure skater too.” Bittle shrugged. “I switched to hockey in high school in hopes that it would make my dad happier.” Jack nodded because he understood that feeling. Ever since his overdose, he had that same feeling that his parents had lost respect for him.
They packed up their things, getting ready for the day ahead of them. By the end of the day, they would know who the better hockey player was, although at this point it didn’t matter. By the time Jack had showered and dressed, Bittle had already gone.
Jack walked into his classroom to find that Eric had made an unexpected visit. On one of his chalkboards, the one right in the middle of course, Bittle had written: ‘PIES > PUCKS’ and in small letters underneath ‘your move Zimmermann-B.’ Bittle had officially started a war, one that Jack was sure he’d win.
Without erasing anything, Jack grabbed a few jars out of his desk and ran down the hall to see if Bittle was in his classroom. He wasn’t, probably getting his morning coffee Jack assumed. Jack was going to save this prank for Shitty, but he felt that Eric had warranted a counter strike. Jack emptied the jars on Bitty’s desk and carefully with his fingers spread the small dots from the hole punch to spell out ‘BITTLES BE TRIPPIN’ (he had spoken to enough high schoolers to know what that meant) and underneath he put a post-it reading two words: GAME ON. Jack was proud of his accomplishment and quickly ran back into his class before Bittle could come back and catch Jack in the act.
The day continued on normally after that, except Jack refused to erase the message Bittle had written. The students got a kick out of it anyways and it reminded them of the event tonight at the lake behind the school. Jack was getting pumped and he could tell Eric was excited about it too.
During his lunch break, he walked down to the Home Economics room, smelling the wonderful smells before he was even close to the room. The students were making a multitude of snacks for the game tonight and would be selling them for fifty cents a piece. There were mountains of goodies: brownies, pies, cookies, and even a few candies. Jack picked up a smaller candy and popped one into his mouth.
“Uh-huh Mr. Zimmermann, I saw that. You owe me fifty cents.” Jack rolled his eyes but dug around in his pockets anyways for two quarters. He took notice that ‘BITTLES BE TRIPPIN’ was still written across Eric’s desk and he smiled a little.
“Prepared to get your butt kicked tonight, eh, Bittle?” Jack asked. He heard a few of the students snicker and knew this was going up on those social media sites as they spoke.
“You wish! Chowder and George are phenomenal and I have Tater, Dex, and Nurse. There’s no way you’ll win.”
Jack agreed that was a pretty formidable team, but Jack had Ransom, Holster, Shitty, Parse, and the philosophy teacher Johnson, who accepted after going on a strange rant about how he was only being asked because the author needed equal teams to help move the plot along.
“Bittle, what are those?” Jack asked, after looking down at Eric’s hands.
“Mini-pies. Me and my moo-maw make ‘em all the time and I’ll have you know that these pies have won awards back home.” Jack had stopped listening after that, Bittle was beginning to rant and Jack was more interested in watching Bittle talk than what he was actually saying. Jack was slowly realizing that he liked Bittle as more than a coworker or a friend and that maybe their students had picked up on something that Jack hadn’t even seen at first. Kids were intuitive that way.
“Is that okay?” Eric asked, and Jack only realized that he had finished talking after he had been staring at him for about a minute. Jack blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Sorry Bittle, I wasn’t listening.” he admitted, embarrassed that he had been caught.
“I asked if I could post a picture of us on Twitter to promote the game tonight.”
Jack nodded and Bittle called one of his students forward to take a picture of them together. Jack wrapped his arm around Eric’s shoulders and Bittle wrapped his own around his waist. To anyone on the outside, it looked completely platonic, but Jack was panicking on the inside. He felt like one of his students, crushing hard on the teacher, knowing it was a losing battle but unable to help it anyways. The picture was posted with the caption: ‘He’s chirping me hard, but we’ll see who’s chirping whom once he looks at the final score tonight. See you there! #PIES>PUCKS #fundraiser’.
Jack took the opportunity to have Bittle show him some of the twitters the students were posting about them. Jack read through some of them, noticing that #zimbits was becoming popular among the students. Jack had to admit he was a little proud of this, despite the implications of the hashtag (Bittle had explained this to him before, but he still wasn’t sure he understood. Shouldn’t it just be called a pound sign?). He was surprised by the amount of candid pictures the students were able to take. They took a couple of them talking at lunch or in the Home Economics classroom, or even just around the school in general. Jack had to admit that he wasn’t hiding his affections very well. He definitely earned the “heart eyes Zimmermann” tag that was also becoming popular among the students.
He looked his fill and handed Bittle his phone back. Bittle finished up his class, telling the students to make sure they put their dishes in the drying racks and to come to the game tonight. Jack watched them leave, waiting for Eric to come to lunch with him for a few minutes so they could discuss the game tonight. Bittle turned to him then.
“I have a proposition for you, Jack.” Those brown eyes were intense and it was all Jack could do to maintain eye contact.
Jack had a hard time concentrating throughout the rest of the day. Bittle did this on purpose so that Jack’s team would lose, he was sure of it. Well he wasn’t going to go easy on Bittle’s team, that’s for sure.
He was getting prepped for the game, using his full hour to warm up and do some stretching. He was dressed in one of his old college jerseys, the powder blue and white feeling like home. Bittle came out onto the ice wearing an old jersey from his college days as well. His was red and white with a bright white 15 right in the center of his back and it looked damn good on him. Bittle gave him a once over before starting his own warm-up routine. They weren’t wearing pads, but they didn’t really need to. This would be a no-checking game for the safety of the teachers who had never really played hockey before.
Jack was fully warmed up by the time the other teachers arrived. The lake was ready, two goals on the edges of the lake and a makeshift face-off circle haphazardly drawn in spray paint. The ref (one of the lovely students that was neutral to both Jack and Bitty) blew her whistle and Johnson and Chowder took their places in the goal. The game was starting and Jack was surprised by the turnout. Students came, friends of students came, and even family came to support these two colliding activities.
Bittle and Jack were the first two to face off in the circle. The crowd was going wild and Jack’s competitive side was making an appearance.
“Remember my proposition?” Bittle asked, raising an eyebrow, challenging.
“If you are asking me to throw the game Bittle, I will do no such thing.” Jack replied, smirking. Bittle nodded.
“I was hoping that would be your answer.”
The puck was dropped and Jack won the face-off. He passed the puck to Shitty and the two were off down the lake. Bittle was fast and was in front of Shitty in an incredibly short amount of time. George was defending against Jack and he was okay with that. If he had to defend against Eric, he would have not been able to control himself.
The game progressed quickly, each team earning a shot on goal within minutes. Thankfully, both Johnson and Chowder were fairly good at this and both shots were deflected easily. Towards the end of the first period, Ransom passed a puck towards Jack who sent it straight into the five-hole before Chowder could even react. The crowd went wild as Jack performed a fist-pump “celly” and Shitty skated over to hug him.
Bittle responded by winning the face-off and using his speed for a breakaway. He sent a quick wrist shot to Johnson, glove-side, and scored within 10 seconds of Jack’s goal. Looks like Bitty wasn’t going to throw the game either. He skated over to Jack and yelled “Your move Zimmermann!” before skating back to his team for a celebratory group hug.
The first period ended in a tie 1-1 and although this was a pick-up game of shinny on the lake behind the school, both Bitty and Jack were getting competitive. Jack had to adjust himself more than once. During the period intermissions, they had games that the students voted on. The first was a game of bean-bag toss, where the winner would receive a free ticket to prom.
Afterwards the teams took to the ice again. The second period was uneventful. Neither team scored, though both teams had several shots on goal.
The second intermission was a lottery where the students would get to pie the teachers playing in the face. Jack got pied by a girl who was very shy and very short. He actually had to get down on his knees so she could reach his face. After everyone had been pied, they took pictures with the students and they each got a free Samwell High School t-shirt.
The game continued, still tied, in the third period. The period started off with Jack winning the face-off. They had decided to pull Johnson in the third period and put Ransom and Holster on the ice with Jack. Within minutes, Holster had tipped a beautiful goal in off a rebound. The game was building and it looked like Jack’s team was going to win 2-1. In the last few minutes, Bittle had another shot at a goal. Jack was on him quickly this time and was ready to defend anything Bittle was going to throw at them. Bittle faked to the left and shot quickly to the right, fooling both Jack and Johnson and scoring his second goal of the evening.
“There you go, 15.” Jack whispered, impressed that Bittle was able to get passed him seemingly effortlessly. With the game tied 2-2 in the third period they went straight into a shoot-out, hoping to not keep the families here past dinner time.
Jack scored against Chowder easily, and Bittle scored for his third time that evening. Shitty missed his shot, but George sent a beautiful shot flying past Johnson’s glove. It was down to the final goal and Holster was up. He tried to pull a fast one on Chowder, by sending him a backhanded wrist shot, but Chowder blocked it as if he had been playing hockey all his life.
With that, the game was won and Jack had to admit defeat. Although disappointed, he wasn’t upset for long. Jack remembered what Bittle had asked him during their lunch earlier that day.
“I have a proposition for you, Jack. If you win tonight, you can take me on our first date anywhere you would like. If I win tonight, I get to choose the first date.”
Jack had sat dumbfounded. He wasn’t even aware that Bittle had wanted to date him.
“Do I still get to pay, regardless of who wins?” He asked, because it was the only question that would come to him as his brain still processed that information.
Bittle smiled coyly, and playfully swatted at Jack’s chest.
“No, sir! If I am the one choosing the date, I get to pay you hear me!?”
“Isn’t this a win for everyone regardless of the score of the game?” Jack asked, a smile tugging on his lips.
“Yes. Now get out of here, I don’t want you getting any ideas here at school.”
Jack was brought back to the present. He was eager to get moving forward with his post-game reward. He saw Eric smiling at him across the pond and knew they were thinking about the first date, that Bitty would be planning. He skated over towards the smaller man and looked down at him.
“Congrats, Bitty.” He said before proudly and confidently placing his lips against the slightly chapped ones of the blonde next to him. It was quick and chaste, but the students saw it anyways and began whooping and cheering. Bittle blushed furiously, mumbling about how he would see Jack tomorrow for their date. Eric skated away quickly and Jack wondered if he could bring him in for speed training to help the team. To help the team, certainly not watch any part of Bittle’s body doing any sort of strenuous activities. He was definitely going to enjoy tomorrow, he thought as he skated away towards the locker rooms.
So I'm reading into the darkest corner by Elizabeth Haynes. The book, first off, is phenomenal and very well written. But it's also scarily accurate about the aftermath of abusive relationships. I used to be in an emotionally abusive relationship in high school, that was starting to turn physically abusive before he ended things our senior year. As much as that relationship scared me then, it HAUNTS me now. To this day I live in an entirely different city and dread the feeling of going home because I MIGHT see him around. I've spoken with people about this and those who have never been in that kind of relationship cannot understand what it feels like to be scared in your childhood home. The anxiety and depression I experience now are crippling sometimes, and the fear I have of men has kept me from really moving on (yes I have been in other relationships, but all of those took a long time for me to trust the other person and all of those have accumulated into more fear and pain for various reasons). This relationship ended when I was 17 and now at 24 I am still dealing with the pain, fear and other stresses that come from an abusive relationship. It's a lot to deal with, especially when it's your first romantic relationship and has always left me feeling like I was a problem and I wasn't good enough. I fear constantly, albeit irrationally that he is going to show up at my apartment (in a completely different city, mind you) and hurt me again, or worse convince me to be with him again and let the abuse continue. I obsessively lock my door and sometimes leave lights off when I'm home to discourage visitors. I rarely go out with friends. The friends I have are few and take a long time to pass the 'screening process' and romantic relationships take so much longer. I have so many trust issues and am usually holed up in my room unless someone worthy comes along to get me out of my own head. Now back to the original point of this post. This book is amazingly descriptive and has actually caused me to have some anxieties (and at least one panic attack) from reading about the struggle this woman went through. It's triggering for sure (a lot of what the narrator went through and feels are very similar to my anxieties and experiences...I mean the abuser was big, blonde and had blue eyes for christ sake, which is not unlike my first boyfriend...) Anyways I just wanted to put this out there for anyone who is dealing with these overwhelming emotions that you aren't alone (I would recommend this book, but like I said it's highly triggering), and anyone who is trying to understand what those who have been abused are feeling, they should definitely read this book. The thoughts, the OCD, the anxiety about leaving the house or having things in the wrong place (or even about minor things like something not taking as long as it should or normally does and feeling frustrated because of that), and ultimately the underlying fears are very similar experiences to what I go through with panic/anxiety attacks(I realize everyone experiences these mood disorders differently but I think the underlying issues of fear and stress are almost universal). It's a beautiful book that looks into a world that is still very hush-hush and kept quiet because victims are often terrified to talk and abusers sometimes want to keep abusing..... Tl;dr: into the darkest corner by Elizabeth Haynes is terrifyingly accurate for people who are struggling to return to normalcy post abusive relationships.
I believe mention was made of Takumi and Sakurai’s first kiss on the @futurefishbabies blog. Well, here you go, anon! You get first date AND first kiss! I’m so generous.
Will be crossposted to my Ao3. Also, unedited because it’s late and I just wanted to post it. I’ll fix any mistakes tomorrow morning. Enjoy!
Also, Sakurai’s theme throughout the date.
Umiko’s got that look on her face, that look she gets when she’s about to say something that’s going to make Takumi’s face burn and his tongue tied.
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