#bitty x parse

[bittyparse]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

HELLO HAVE YOU READ THIS BITTY/PARSE FIC YET? NO? WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR. i am all of the feels.

[dieofthatroar]

A Dash of Stardust in the Morning - Chapter 5

Bitty visits Kent in Vegas. They both realize they've been lying to themselves a little.

Magical realism AU in which Jack is a ghost. Bitty/Parse

“Do you care that I’m trying so hard to get rid of you?” Kent asks. Jack is pacing the floor as he sometimes does, halfway to corporal but not quite. He’s interacting with the world in a daze, only blinking dumbly when Kent speaks to him.  

“Do you care if I fall in love with someone else?”

Jack looks past him. Past the jerseys Kent has on his wall—his first all-star appearance, his first year with the C—and past the old photos of teammates from the blues from the Q to the black and white of now.

Kent opens his email, clicking on the confirmation of a flight booking from Boston to Vegas.

“I don’t want you gone,” Kent says as he forwards the tickets to Bitty. “But you’re not really here now, are you? That’s not fair to either of us.”

Bitty’s staying with Kent in Vegas for a week over spring break and he’s chirped for days before he leaves.

“Kent fucking Parson?” Holster says. “You’re going to—what kind of magic shit did you pull for this?”

“What are you talking about, man? Nobody can resist our Bitty,” Ransom says.

“He paid for your flight?”

“Is that what you were doing in Montreal?”

“Who he was doing, Rans.”

“Deets!”

“Chill, guys,” Lardo says. “He doesn’t have to say anything if he doesn’t want to, right Bits?”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Bitty says. “It’s just that—it’s not like that exactly—cus Kent can’t exactly be out when he’s still playing and it—”

“Course, Bitty,” Ransom says. He puts his fingers to his lips. “Won’t say a word.”

“Secrets are more fun anyway,” Holster says. “Oh! Any good pastry recipes with secrets?”

Bitty smirks. “Well, I do have one,” he says. “But they’ve got to be juicy, you see. Ransom, what’s the worst you’ve got on Holster here?”

Ransom grins the widest grin. “I’ve got just the one.”

Keep reading on AO3

[dieofthatroar]

A Dash of Stardust in the Morning - Chapter 4

Kent and Bitty get stuck in a snowstorm. They talk about magic and pies made from rainbows and what kisses really mean.

Magical realism AU in which Jack is a ghost. Bitty/Parse

“I don’t get it.”

Bitty is spread out on the floor of Lardo’s studio, watching her paint. He should be researching an essay, but that would require him to go to the library and it’s -5 outside. That, and he’s lazy. And upset.

“Don’t get what?” Lardo says. She has a streak of yellow across her cheek.

“Kent. I thought we were—well, I don’t know. Maybe not friends, but friendly? Now he’s ignoring my calls or sayin’ he has to go after five minutes.”

“The Aces have been on a bit of a losing streak,” Lardo says. “Maybe it’s not about you.”

Bitty sighs and plays with a stray brush that fell from a table. “He hasn’t sent me a single picture of Kit in a week. When he’s sad, he usually dresses Kit up and makes her pose on the kitchen counter with—”

“Bitty,” Lardo says. “Why are you so upset?”

“He’s coming here soon. We have to interview a few people who knew Jack back when they were in the Q and I have to deal with… whatever’s going on with him in person.”

Bitty wants to confess that it hurts more because of where he thought they were going when they were in Montreal. He knows they had an argument, but it was about magic, wasn’t it? About his ability to do his job and of course Bitty wouldn’t back down. And Kent seemed fine. He acted fine.

Bitty thinks of the touches, the secret looks, the long car rides with Kent’s sunglasses down and the radio blaring. And now, Kent looks like he wants nothing at all to do with Bitty. But he knows that if he says all that out loud, he’ll come across as another one of Kent’s pining fans. He’d rather die.

Keep reading on AO3

[haforcere]

For this kinkmeme prompt, where,

 Bitty and Parse get fuck'or'died. Only, they can't agree on which to choose.

It's stupid for Parse to choose death for them both over fucking Bitty, like it's that big an imposition. Who does he think he is? It's not like Bitty wants to fuck him, either. Maybe Bitty wants to choose death for them over fucking Parse, how dare Parse think he's doing the rejecting here. It's not like Parse is hot or anything. There's no reason at all for 'hell no' to escalate into pointed, contrarian fucking, I'll show you, Kent Parson.

Sorry I am slow on promised WiPs and wrote this instead. D: 

[asbestosghost-blog]

Manhattan

Pretend we are a few years post-college, and Jack has some kind of injury. The best doctor to treat whatever he has is in Vegas, and against his better judgment he opts to save some money by staying with Parse. For his own reasons, Bitty comes along too.

Some TWs in the tags because this is Parse being Parse, but it’s PG. Must be rough, Kent.

The place looked alright, Bitty thought. Alright until you looked in, under, or behind anything, which seemed ironic and appropriate. He looked at the glass Parse had handed to him for a moment—it was chipped—before glancing back at the human salt mine trying his best to be hospitable.

“Figures he’d go for another blonde,” Kent rambled, rummaging through his fridge for some hummus. “He always liked good hair.”

“Are you—” Bitty stammered.

“Fast blondes, yeah, it makes sense,” Parse interrupted, dipping a pita chip in the hummus and sending it aimlessly toward his mouth. “Always knew Jack had a type.”

Bitty plants his glass on the table and gives the Ace a hard stare. “Parse, what the hell are you trying to pull?”

He takes his eyes away from the window and looks over to Bitty, smiling with a little “hm?” as if he’d only just noticed he wasn’t alone in the room. “Protecting an old friend,” he muses. “He’ll trade off the Falconers eventually.”

“You don’t even—”

“I mean, there’s professionals in sports medicine closer to Providence, yeah? There’s closer doctors than Las Vegas, there’s certainly nicer hotel rooms than Chez Kenny.” He dips another pita chip in the hummus, the gesture perfectly constructed to look absent-minded. “But what do I know?”

“Oh, so you’d rather he played games with his recovery?” Bitty sneered, trying to grip the island a little less furiously.

“I’d rather he played games with me,” Kent murmured. “But I’ll make do with you. It’s good to see what he’s into.”

“Wh—”

“Eat,” he said firmly, spooning his palm over the outside of Bitty’s knuckles. He uses Bitty’s shock to raise both their hands, and gets Bitty’s fingers into a grabby-claw position to get a chip from the bag. Barely breathing, Bitty watches from outside himself as the chip hits the hummus and makes a slow journey toward his mouth, guided by fingers tightly gripping between his own.

Parse’s other hand goes for Bitty’s chin—strokes across it once, and then holds his jaw lightly. Without thinking, Eric opens his mouth, and the Ace pushes the pita chip so that, in the end, all the fingers of both their hands are brushing Bitty’s lips.

“Chew,” he says, softer this time. At the first crunch, he lets go of Bitty’s hand, but Bitty doesn’t remember to move his shaking fingers away from his lips. When a blush starts creeping across his nose, Kent grins at him with something like hunger and turns to start putting the hummus away. Bitty realizes he’d never seen Parse actually smile.

“I hope I don’t need to tell you to swallow,” he chuckles to the refrigerator. And then Bitty remembers himself.

“You’re poison,” Bitty growls. “That’s all I could think about after that first kegster—how similar ‘Parson’ is to ‘poison.’”

“And you’re bitter,” Kent retorts. “Bittle, bitter—that’s easy. I picked that one up after Jack came out on live TV.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Eric thought he had managed to forget everything that had happened between Jack and Kent so many years ago, but it’s all coming back up now. He’s hoping fists-on-a-countertop is a good way to keep his arms from shaking.

Parse emerges from the fridge with a handle of Smirnoff, orange juice, and two whiskey tumblers. As he pours, he talks. “Sure it does. You got his confidence back, you had all those years of great games with Zimms at Samwell, you built him back up so he could charm the NHL again. And then all that fierceness,”—was Parse even capable of being wistful?—“all that strength and focus gets spilled out all over the country for the great 82, and you can only pretend to be part of it.”

“I am part of it—ugh! Look, Kent,” he says, pushing the tumbler back when it’s offered toward him, “he’s not yours. He’s not coming back to you, ever. Give up for once!”

Kent sneers, downs his whole glass in one worrying chug, and gets right in Bitty’s face. “Never, bitters?”

Bitty holds onto the countertop to steel himself, but doesn’t back down from the forehead pressed against his own. “Never, poison.”

Hands come up and grasp either side of Bitty’s face. Kent looks a little wild—shaken, real, hurt, hungry again. Dangerously so. “Funny. We’d make a great manhattan.”

Bitty almost laughs, because it almost seems like a joke, but then Parse is staring fiercely into his eyes like he’s looking for something, someone. “We’d make. A great. TEAM,” he shouts, his mouth straining too wide and his brows seizing too fast. He pushes his fingers hard into against Bitty’s face for a half-second, and Bitty’s getting ready to fight back, until Parse’s hands drop entirely.

“Let me know when you’re ready for a fucking drink,” Kent calls, already halfway through the foyer and just as quickly, out the door.

Bitty doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

An hour later, when Parse comes back from the grocery store, he wordlessly drops two of the bags in front of Bitty. The contents—a Pyrex pie plate, a rolling pin, an acceptable amount of butter, a bunch of Granny Smith apples, and an assortment of flour, sugar, vanilla extract. Bitty spends the next thirty minutes staring at it.

[itty-zimbitty]

i really want Bitty and Parse to be best friends

like they’re both petty, jealous, bitches to each other but they also hang out every single day and jack everyone is just ??????

[itty-zimbitty]

We already know how a bitty and jack relationship is, but how would he be if he were dating the rest of smh?

Like bitty and holster would be super fun, beer pong and chirping and general bro stuff, except with more making out and crazy, energetic sex

And bitty and ransom would be the same except a little more nurturing from bitty because his beautiful boyfriend is fragile and easily stressed out. They would alternate more between crazy fun, and slow, loving sex

Bitty and Shitty would be a lot of existential debates on the mystery of life, but also lots and lots and lots of cuddles. They would be super tactile and constantly hugging and touching, but only ever kissing in public when they’re both too drunk to care

Lardo is a really private person so bitty would try to respect that, so there wouldn’t be a lot of pda. however, they would totally be that couple that gossip to each other and collectively know everything about everyone like a super power couple

Bitty and Kent would be that weird couple that bicker all the time and half of their relationship is loud hate sex and no one knows why they're dating. They would actually enjoy the bickering and the hate sex, and they would be fiercely protective over each other because they really understand each other more than anyone else.

[omgkvp]

waking up in vegas

songs bitty and parse definitely made out to

don’t trust me by 3oh!3 // anaconda by nicki minaj // take it off by kesha // problem by natalia kills // on my mind by ellie goulding // call me maybe by carly rae jepsen // drunk in love by beyonce // die young by kesha // teenage dream by 5 seconds of summer // shut up and dance by walk the moon // waking up in vegas by katy perry