#their first meeting is of course arranged but no less meet cute coffee shop au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wilwywaylan · 4 years ago

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Meet me at the Coffee Shop

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern AU (coffeeshop AU !), Enjolras x Grantaire,

Present for @flynnifox for the @lesmisholidayexchange exchange on AO3. Got lots of fun out of that one :D I love coffeeshop AU and I love meet cutes !

Also on AO3

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Enjolras dashed out of the subway exit, running up the stairs to go faster. He had been up for four hours now, rushing to get his last paper ready before the impossibly tight deadline given by his ethics professor. He'd finished it in the nick of time and delivered it, foregoing the spellcheck step to make sure he wouldn't be late. Of course, the first train of the day endured a mishap, and the next one was so crowded even he couldn't get in. He reached the university as the sun rose behind the roofs, getting his shoes drenched in the puddles on the alleys. But he managed to reach the office before the clock struck 8 AM, and could hand deliver the essay. The professor had looked like he had bitten into a very large, very bitter lemon, but hadn't made any smart remarks. Not that Enjolras would have listened anyway.

But now, he needed coffee. Large, strong, and right now. And of course, there wasn't any respectable coffee shop around the campus. Chain-owned one, as many as you want. You couldn't throw a stone without hitting three or four of them. But Enjolras would be caught dead before he got into one of these dens of inequity and bad coffee. No, he needed a good, fair trade coffee in a nice establishment. Nothing else would do.

Finally, he spotted what he was looking for. A nice little coffee shop. It was a little setback from the street, as if hiding from the common folk to reveal itself to those worthy. Enjolras didn't know if he was worthy of... coffee or anything, but he had noticed the little shop freshly painted in black. Leaves adorned the front, and he at first had believed it to be covered in ivy, but a closer inspection had revealed that they had been all carefully painted. The window was clean, and two words were painted on it : Café Victor. Sounded promising. To be fair, Enjolras would have accepted any strangely named shop as long as it could provide him with the coffee he was looking for.

A two-sided chalkboard was set near the door, with a list of all the delicacies one could get in the coffee-shop. The handwriting was pretty, very adorned, a few birds drawn here and there. But Enjolras cared little for the calligraphy, and a lot for what it promised. And the first item on the board was, of course, coffee. He glanced at his watch. It was open, had been for one hour already. Perfect.

There was a small line in front of the counter. He stepped at the end, and prepared to wait. It was cosy, at least. A large counter, a room with small tables surrounded by chairs or stools. Everything was either light wood or painted black like every hip coffee shop in town. But that one had lots of plants everywhere, on the counter, on windowsills, between the tables, so much greenery that it half-looked like a greenhouse. Every available surface on the wall had been covered with frames : drawings, paintings, photographies... Every one was busting with colours, bringing life to the otherwise drab walls.

The line was slow, and Enjolras was starting to get agitated. He could tell Combeferre that he didn't need coffee that much until his face turned blue, but he was feeling the effect of a severe lack in caffeine. He could go home and try to make some, of course, he hadn’t bought his spaceship of a coffee maker for nothing. But it would mean half an hour to get there, and he wanted coffee now. Beside, encouraging small shops was the way to go. But could he go a little faster ? He didn't know what was taking so long. But it was. The barista seemed to be professional and fast at making his drinks. But he was chatting non stop, throwing compliments and talking about everything under the sun. No wonder it was taking so long. Enjolras looked at the time on his phone, and sighed. This was going to be long.

~*~

If someone had told Grantaire that he would one day enjoy a regular job with regular hours, he would have laughed in their face. And then at their knees because he would probably have fallen on the ground laughing. But here he was, behind his counter, having gotten up at the crack of dawn, chatting amiably with people while mixing the weirdest drinks, without wanting to bite them or run away screaming. Of course, he sometimes got some weird or aggravating ones, but he let it slide. He had his favourites, his regulars, people who came to him for their coffee fix, and a bit of a chat, and he delivered. And worst of it, he was liking it.

Today was an extra-chirpy day. That's how he called the days where he got up before the alarm rang and his mind was already filled to the brim with ideas for drawings and paintings. He had even picked up guitar playing again ! It put him in a perfect mood, and also made him extra chatty. And he was working a job that allowed to have long conversations with his customers, wasn't it perfect ?

So he welcomed them, made small talk with his regulars while he was getting their favourite drinks ready, about the weather, the projects, the families, everything and anything. Some of them were happy to answer, others were still quite silent at this hour, so he kept quiet. There was a nice line in front of the counter, several customers eager for coffee and hand-made pastries. Good for business, very good. And people were sill coming in while he was working.

He was working on a caramel-flavoured coffee with some whippe cream when the door chime rang again, and he glanced at the newcomer. Blond, dressed in red, reading glasses. Not a regular, no one he'd ever seen before. The sight pleased him. The Café Victor was bringing in new customers. It made him even happier, and he welcomed the next customer in line, an old lady who had several cats. He loved talking with her, she always had very intriguing stories about the various hijinks of the ones she called her children. He started making her green tea, listening intently to her last cat story.

~*~

Enjolras counted the people in front of him, sighed once more. There were still two people in front of him. He was feeling like he'd been here for several hours already. But according to his phone, it had been only ten minutes. Ten long minutes. That felt even longer because of his damp shoes. And the line wasn't moving. Probably because the barista was too busy chatting instead of doing his work. Okay, so maybe that was a little bit mean. He was at least doing something that was the source of this delicious coffee smell. But why was it taking so long ?

He stood on his toes to get a better look. Ah. Of course the barista was talking with everyone and anyone. That's why. He cursed inwardly. Of all the coffee shops in town, he had to opt for the one where the barista just couldn't shut up. If he wasn't so exhausted, he would have gotten out of here and looked for another one. But now that he was here... Finally, finally, the next person walked to the counter to order. Enjolras didn't mean to eavesdrop, of course, but he couldn't really help it, being so close and all,

- So, the barista all but cooed, how is the prettiest lumberjack this side of the Seine today ?

Instead of getting angry at being called "pretty" by another guy, the customer just let out a booming laugh.

- Only this side, you're not very generous today !

They started talking about sports, and Enjolras immediately tuned them out. Not that he thought that talking about sports was indicative of anything, but it was really really boring to him. He scrolled through the news again, trying to find something to occupy himself with, but nothing had happened in the last ten minutes. He was forced to look elsewhere for entertainment. The frames on the walls would do. The photographies were nice, black and white snippets of small things, and they were carefully arranged to provide a counterpoint to the coloUrs of the drawings. Pretty drawings, by the way, made by different artists, but always very soft, almost... hopeful. A bigger painting was hanging above a small stage at the end of the room, a large, abstract piece in vibrant colors scattered across the black canvas. A beautiful piece.

- Hello, Sunshine, what will it be today ?

~*~

Bahorel gave Grantaire finger-guns, grabbed his coffee and left. Grantaire just shook his head : count on him to be the only man alive to get away with doing that. He turned to his next customer, and emitted a strangled noise that sounded a bit like someone stepping on a squeaky toy. As the proud barista of a very nice coffee shop, he'd seen his fair share of beautiful persons - traditionally beautiful persons - and as a lover of arts, he knew a pretty person when he saw one.

The one standing in front of him was... oh god above, was there even a word for this kind of being ? Did they descend right from Heaven, stopping for a bit of coffee before going back to a realm of ethereal beings as beautiful as them ? Be still, my heart, he thought, trying not to stare too much. But he was starring. Oh yes, he was. The hair caught his eye first. A blond cascade of curls, bouncing and spilling around his face, barely held by a hair-tie, falling down his back almost to his hips. Hair he'd only seen in fairy tales books. As did his face. Right now, he was looking at the wall, offering Grantaire a perfect view of his profile, delicately lined by the morning light. It was so exquisite, with perfect cheekbones and a high forehead where small curls were resting.

Rosy lips, just plump enough to beg for a kiss. The nose was just a little too long, but it fit none-the-less. And in this perfect face, like jewels in a setting, eyes blue as the sky, lined with lashes made of gold. The black-rimmed glasses were a bit too hipstery for his tastes, but nothing could detract from that beautiful angel.

It was a miracle Grantaire didn't faint on the spot or ask for his hand, or any of the myriads of stupid things that crossed his mind. He cleared his throat, and said in a perfectly-normal sounding voice :

- Hello, Sunshine, what will it be today ?

~*~

Enjolras frowned at the nickname. Another one of those Casanova wannabes. Probably thought that he was a girl, with his long hair. Well, fuck him in advance. He walked to the counter, and said in his sternest voice :

- The tallest coffee you got. Black. Two sugars. Please, he added.

Being aggravated didn't mean he could forego manners. The man just nodded and set himself to work. He was moving with... a certain grace, Enjolras had to admit. Light on his feet, despite the muscular arms nicely outlined by his black shirt. And even nicer were the tattoos covering them. Cloud in pastels arose around his right wrist, climbing all the way to the elbow where they erupted in flowers in vivid colours. The left arm was covered in an intricate pattern of ivy leaves around text too small to read. Enjolras had to admire them, they were just in front of him, after all.

- That will be two minutes, Sunshine.

- Do not call me sunshine, Enjolras snapped.

If he thought he had scared the barista into behaving, he was sorely mistaken. The man's smile widened, a crescent of white on darker skin.

- Don’t you dare mock me, Enjolras growled.

- Oh, I wouldn't dare. Your eyes would stab me like shards of ice and I would promptly die on the spot.

Enjolras could feel the heat slowly climbing on his cheeks. Oh, good, now he was blushing, and he hated that. The barista probably sensed his anger, because the cheeky grin morphed into a mostly apologetic smile.

- Okay, sorry, he said. I can be an ass. But I don't mean to anger you.

Enjolras let out a huff, but he nodded. The barista grabbed a cup and a marker.

- Can I get the name ? Or will it be "Sunshine" ?

Enjolras was almost tempted to tell him off, but he really, really wanted that coffee. So he obeyed, paid, and stepped to the side to wait while the barista greeted the next customer with a wink and a large gesture.

~*~

Grantaire knew he was acting up, but the blond was looking at him, almost murderous. Probably didn't like the nickname. Oh well, Grantaire could still try to play it cool. Maybe if he made a good coffee, he would be forgiven. So he set himself to work, carefully calibrating the machine to get its best. Two minutes later exactly, he put a cup of coffee in front of the blond boy.

- Here you are !

Blondie - Enjolras - grabbed the cup, gave him only a nod, and turned to leave. Which was what Grantaire really didn't want, but what could he do beside let him go and hope that he would come back ? So he watched him leave, half-regretting that the blond was wearing only some kind of shapeless sweat pants. He probably looked awesome in normal pants... Oh well, maybe next time. A guy could always hope.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Enjolras stop outside the shop and take a sip of coffee. The cup didn't land on the window. On the contrary, he left, with what seemed like a little bounce on his step. Grantaire grinned. Another victory for the Café Victor.

~*~

Three days later, Grantaire was wiping his counter, trying to remember where he was on the stocks and how many towels he needed to buy, when the doorbell chimed. He glanced at the newcomer, and his heart gave a little beat. The sun had just decided to shine for him alone, or perhaps it was just the blond guy from last time who just stepped inside. He looked angry at something, but perhaps this time, it wasn't his fault. Yet. Blondie - Enjolras, he recalled, because of course he did - stepped to the counter, and gave his order. The same as last time, too, Grantaire could have done it without even being asked. Black coffee, with sugar, gigantic. The guy probably ran on coffee alone. He surely had the attitude. Probably burnt so much energy during the day that he needed the boost to get through the day. Grantaire had only got one nice look at him, but he had noticed the shadows under his eyes, purple and delicate. Probably hadn’t gotten enough sleep for years.

Grantaire scrawled the name on the cup just for the fun of it, filled it to the brim, screwed the lid on and gave it to the blond. They locked eyes for a second, and Grantaire really thought he was going to die here and there. Or at least do a happy dance. Enjolras was even prettier up close. Tiny, too, if he was to judge by the counter's height. Tiny, pretty, and full of righteous fury. The bag at his shoulder was covered with badges and patches bearing slogans. An activist. Maybe even an idealist ? Exactly the person that Grantaire wasn't but loved to rile. Oh, he could get so much fun with him. But then, he would lose his patronage, and that would surely be a huge loss. So he settled for a light ribbing.

- Here you go, Sunshine. Strong and sweet, just like you.

Enjolras' face turned red again. He opened his mouth, certainly ready to bite his head off, then appeared to decide against it. He grabbed his coffee and left, to Grantaire's greatest delight. He was wearing jeans, today, very nice jeans that were clinging to his legs and... Grantaire was only human, after all, and he couldn't help it but admire what nature and probably exercise had shaped.

Enjolras stopped when he glanced at the cup, and Grantaire half-dived under the counter to giggle. It was the second time he had carefully written the name, in beautiful calligraphy. Or rather, "Angel-ras". Good to know his art wasn't getting ignored. Enjolras glared at him, even harder than the first time.

- This is not funny.

The tone was as icy as his eyes, but at least, the coffee didn't come back to him. Enjolras just left, with his precious coffee. Grantaire watched him go, chin planted in his hand. He probably wouldn't see Enjolras ever again. Too bad. But it was worth it.

~*~

Two weeks later, Enjolras found himself face to face with the Café Victor again. He'd been running to get their next flyers printed on time, and in a strange recreation of his first time here, found himself at eight in the morning in front of the coffee shop. And it was time for coffee. Warm, and good coffee. Except that this time, not only did he step into puddles, he was soaked to the bone due to the rain that kept falling since he had realized he had forgotten to wear a coat. The lights were shining behind the window, warm and welcoming through the now pouring rain. His feet had led him there while he was busy informing the others on the advance of his task. Go to a place a half-dozen times and your brain decides it's your favourite in the world. Oh well. Good, fair trade coffee was a rarity in this town, and was worth a barista flirting with him like there was no tomorrow.

He pushed the door, shivering and trying to get warm, to not avail. He was drenched to the bone, his hoodie just a rag hanging on his shoulders, his hair dripping on the floor. Luckily, there were only one other person in the coffee shop, a boy with short hair, wrapped in a scarf a mile long, currently talking at a mile an hour with the barista. Said barista was nodding along while getting the drinks ready, "hmm"ing at the right places and smiling. Not a word of flirt in sight. The guy finally grabbed a tray with several drinks piled on it and carried it to a table where a man and a woman were waving at him. The man got up to take the tray, but the woman stopped him and got up to do it herself.

Enjolras walked to the counter. The barista watched his friend for a few seconds more, then turned his attention to him. His eyes immediately widened almost comically. Enjolras would have laughed, if he wasn't trying to keep desperately warm. He was starting to feel faint, probably a lack of sugar or too many dazzling lights. The barista rushed around the corner, grabbed him by a soaked sleeve and dragged him to a stool where he almost pushed him. Enjolras had to grab the counter to keep upright. The guy with the scarf had rushed to his side, and was grabbing his wrist. Enjolras wanted to take it back, but the barista put a hand on his shoulder.

- Relax. Joly's a doctor, he knows what he's doing.

- Doctor-in-training, the guy - Joly - corrected in an automatic tone. His heart is racing, he added. You're pale. Did you eat well this morning ? Or enough ? Vitamins ? You need vitamins ! Grantaire, get him vitamins !

- What I'm gonna bring him is something else to wear.

The barista - Grantaire - left. Enjolras didn't even know he was called Grantaire. To be fair, his badge today was wearing a large smiley face and nothing else. He was half-tempted to get up and tell them all to leave him alone, he was only there for coffee, not for a complete check-up ! But it seemed like a huge effort, all of a sudden. So he let Joly check his forehead and fuss around him.

Grantaire came back a few minutes alter. He nodded at Joly's friends who had moved behind the counter, and threw something on the table in front of Enjolras.

- Here, he announced. They will probably be too big for you, but at least they're dry. And don't mind the paint drops, they just can't be taken off.

Enjolras looked at the bundle. Something green with... yes, paint drops, and something black. Clothes. Wait, why did the guy have clothes and why was he giving them to him ? He wanted to ask, but Joly all but pushed him towards the bathroom, urging him to go "before he caught his death or something". Enjolras relented.

As Grantaire has said, the clothes were big on him. Gigantic, even. The pants were more like leggings, and he had to roll them at the ankles. They were fitting, but luckily, the sweater was large and fell to his mid-thigh, like some kind of baggy dress. It was very weird, wearing someone else's clothes, but at least it was dry, and he wasn't complaining.

He finally stepped out of the bathroom, gingerly. He'd barely walked back to the table, that something dry fell on his head. Joly's friend, the beautiful lady, was holding what looked subreptitiously like a dish towel.

- Sorry, Honey, she said. That's all we have.

Enjolras muttered some thanks and started trying to dry his hair. He needed to braid it fast, or it would quickly gain too much volume and he'd look like some very long-haired sheep. It felt weird, having all those strangers being worried around him. Usually, that was Combeferre's role, and a bit Courfeyrac's too. It felt different... but quite nice.

A tray was deposited in front of him. There was a large cup of coffee on it, along a glass of orange juice and two croissants that looked very much hand-made and not defrosted.

- I haven't ordered all that, he said.

- Doctor's order, Grantaire retorted.

- Doctor in training !

- Shut up, Joly. Joly's order, he added, turning back to Enjolras. It's on the house. Let's say it's because I've been an annoying little gremlin.

- But you're a sweet gremlin, the lady added, kissing Grantaire on the head.

They left to go back behind the counter. Enjolras was grateful, he wasn't very keen on someone watching him eat. He still felt very weird about the whole situation, but he was starting to warm up, and the coffee was delicious, as was the rest. He watched people come and go as he ate, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversations.

When he was done, he brought the tray back. Grantaire was chatting with a customer, and Enjolras stayed on the side, waiting his turn. They seemed in friendly terms, but Grantaire didn't pepper his speech with endearments. Maybe the person just didn't like it. Now that he thought about it, he didn't quite flirt with everyone that came in. Maybe it was just reserved to a few selected one. Including, sadly, himself. Finally, Grantaire let his customer go, and turned to him. Enjolras handed him the tray.

- I'll bring you the clothes back next time, he added.

- I'd say "don't fret it", but if this means I'll have the pleasure of your visit earlier, then by all means, you can even stay there and wait until yours are dry.

Enjolras was half-tempted to hit him over the head with his soaked hoodie, but that wouldn't have been very nice. The man was aggravating, but he didn't have to help him. So he just rolled his eyes, gave him a polite goodbye, and left without another word.

~*~

It had been a pleasant day so far. No bad surprises like a failing fridge, no nasty customer. Okay, just one, but Bahorel's presence at the end of the counter deterred the complainer from doing worst than drag his feet and protest a little. He liked days like this, even with the rain tapping against the window. But a little voice was turning at the back of Grantaire's head, and it was getting hard to ignore its little song. Yes, he knew that he hadn't seen Enjolras for a few days, even as the blond has promised to bring the clothes back. He knew it, and he'd been watching intently every person coming in, hoping to see a blond mane and sky blue eyes. So far, no chance.

He was absorbed in the confection of one of Bahorel's monstrosities, a hot chocolate that contained way too much sugar and cream, when the doorbell announced a new customer. A flash of red caught his eye, and he almost dropped the cup. Only due to his nerves of steel could he catch it. He brought it to Bahorel, who had watched Enjolras come in, and turned to face him.

- And here I thought the day would drown under the rain, but it seemed that the sun has finally decided to shine upon us !

Enjolras frowned, but didn't hit him with his umbrella, instead depositing a bag on the counter. The clothes, perfectly folded. Grantaire didn't pen him as someone who would carefully fold clothes. But there was something to be said about looks and deception. He grabbed the bag, smiled at Enjolras.

- Thank you.

- I'm the one who should thank you, Enjolras said. That was really helpful.

- I couldn't let you stay in those clothes. Joly would have had my head.

- And I wanted to pay for the breakfast.

Grantaire lifted both hands to stop him before he could get his wallet out.

- No no no. I said it's on the house, and that's final.

- You can't just give someone breakfast like this, Enjolras protested.

- I can, I did, I have and I will. It was a medically-ordered breakfast.

Enjolras gave a long-suffering sigh, but seemed to resign.

- So, Grantaire asked, what will it be ? A giant coffee ?

- Yes, and...

Enjolras bit his lip. Grantaire inwardly cursed. He didn't have any right to be so adorable. Of course, due to his reaction to a bit of ribbing, he would certainly bite his head off if he read his thoughts. He started preparing his coffee, waiting for the next part. Enjolras was clearly mulling over something, and it wouldn't do any good trying to get it out of him. So he just focused on the drink.

When Grantaire put the coffee in front of him, he still hadn't spat it out. Grantaire walked to Bahorel, who was savouring his drink, wiped the counter to regain some composure. He knew Bahorel was looking at him, probably with a gigantic smile, but luckily, he didn't make any joke or anything.

- Can I ask you something ? Enjolras finally asked.

Grantaire refrained from yelling something like "HE CAN SPEAK" and fall to the ground. He threw his rag on his shoulder, walked back to him, hoping to look professional.

- I...

Enjolras cleared his throat, started again.

- I'm part of a club, we.... do social activism sometimes.

Grantaire could have guessed so, just judging by the pins and also Enjolras' expression that seemed to want to fight the whole world at once. Another bleeding-heart hero. He nodded.

- I was wondering if maybe, it was okay to put a poster for it and our next meeting, maybe not directly on the window but somewhere ? I also have a stack of flyers, but I don't know if...

He was suddenly looking very nervous, far from the assured man he'd seen until then. Grantaire hold out his hand.

- Show me that poster.

Enjolras gave him a look of hope and uncertainty. He held out the rolled sheet he'd been clinging on until now. Grantaire unrolled it. It was... less worse than he'd thought. Not a "call to arms, overthrow the government, eat the rich" kind of poster, just an invitation to talk about social subjects and things like that. On the other hand, it was absolutely hideous. Whoever designed that thing certainly was no graphic student, or even dilettante. Grantaire lifted an eyebrow, that Enjolras certainly took as a disagreement. He made a move to take it back, but Grantaire held it out of this reach.

- If it's not... he started.

- It's okay, Grantaire cut him, I'll put it up. But, not that I want to be a dick, but you may want to find someone else to design your posters. Those are... well, it's a great way to catch someone's attention, but to keep it...

- We're just a student club. Well, students and workers.

- No graphic design student or something ?

Enjolras shook his head.

- If you find someone, he retorted, you can tell me.

- I will. Anything else ?

- I don't want to push it, but...

He riffled through his bag and pulled out a stack of papers.

- Can I leave you some of the flyers ?

Grantaire didn't really know what to say. He wasn't very keen on advertising a social justice club. In his eyes, it was a waste of time. Things wouldn't move just like that. But he couldn't say this, now, could he ? One, he would certainly lose a valuable customer. And two, Enjolras was looking at him without anger or annoyance for once, and he couldn't let this chance slide.

- Okay, he relented, put them near the register.

Enjolras gave him such a smile that Grantaire thought he would go blind from the sheer brightness of it. He moved to the coffee machine to give himself something to do and give his hands enough time to stop shaking. Enjolras thanked him, grabbed his drink and left. Grantaire focused on his task. He could feel Bahorel smile behind him and he didn't really need that. Just something to get his heartbeat back to normal.

Bahorel moved to grab one of the flyers, read it with attention.

- Sounds fun, he said.

- What, you plan on joining them ? I didn't see you as so concerned by social issues and the like.

- Man, I'm offended. It's not because I'm privileged that I can't find an interest in those causes.

Grantaire had to admit that he had a point. he and his big mouth, did he really need to offend everyone around him ? But Bahorel added :

- Besides, all those clubs and meetings are always a good occasion for a fight. Could be fun.

Ah. Of course.

- Then go and have fun. Break havoc and sow sedition, my friend. And don't forget to tell me if Blondie is really a total dweeb.

- Will do. See you !

With that, he was out the door with his flyer, leaving Grantaire to replay Enjolras' smile in his mind again and again.

~*~

Enjolras hesitated at the Café Victor door, hand on the handle. Bahorel, the new recruit for les Amis de l'ABC, had advised him to come there on this day, at this hour. He had refused to tell him why, just really insisted that it would be a "good time". Seeing as Bahorel had already sparked a fight with a man who insisted on spouting non-inclusive rhetoric on feminism and started two arm-wrestling contests, Enjolras wasn't sure they had the same definition of "good time".

But still, here he was, unsure of what to do. He spotted the ABC poster on the window, and it made him smile a little to see that Grantaire had held his promise. There was another one, smaller, just beside it. "Open mic night", it said. So that was what Bahorel had meant. But why send him here ? There was only one way to know, after all. So he pushed the door.

The tables around the counter were empty, as was Grantaire's space behind it. But there were lights shining on the left part of the room, and soft music playing coming from there. Enjolras stepped forward. The lights were shining on the small stage. And on the stage, sitting on a stool, was Grantaire. An old guitar was resting on his knee, and he was pinching the strings delicately. There was a microphone on a base in front of him, but he was just moving his fingers on the neck, coaxing the notes in arpeggio. It was quite pretty, even a little soothing, and Enjolras leaned on the wall to better listen.

And then Grantaire bent a little forward, closer to the microphone, and started singing.

Quand le jour sera levé Quand nos draps seront lavés Quand les oiseaux envolés Des rues où l'on s'est aimés Il ne restera rien de nous.

Enjolras could only stare, mouth hanging open. In a million years, he would have expected Grantarie to have such a nice voice. His talking voice was low, almost rumbling, always a bit biting, but now... now it was husky, raspy, and so melodic. Carrying each note perfectly.

Quand nos îles seront noyées Quand nos ailes seront broyées Quand la clé sera rouillée Du trésor qu'ils ont fouillé Il ne restera rien de nous.

He looked so peaceful, bent over his instruments, eyes closed to better enjoy his music. Everything hit Enjolras at once, the small curls escaping his beanie, moving along with the rhythm, the muscles on his arms moving under the tattoed skin, the small smile tugging on his lips, almost tender, the colourful drawings on the guitar, and the fingers, thin and bony, caressing the strings so gently, coaxing to better make them sing...

Laisse moi, un peu de toi Une ride, avant le vide Un extrait de tes traits Laisse moi, un peu de toi

The last notes flew away, fading into silence. And suddenly, there was a bunch of applause. Enjolras blinked once, twice. He hadn't even noticed that there were people sitting on the tables, watching the show. To be fair, the room was dark, but he had zeroed on Grantaire, totally ignoring everything else.

Grantaire tuned the guitar a little, then started another song. Enjolras didn't know what he should do, run or listen, but Grantaire's voice pinned him in place.

Take my hand, take my whole life too 'Cause I can't help falling in love with you.

He was singing again, and Enjolras was feeling weird again. He could only focus on Grantaire's voice, Grantaire's hands, Grantaire's head marking the beat. His cheeks were burning, and something in his chest was feeling very heavy. Probably a fever, maybe something worse ? He'd been through the rain without anything, and now he had caught something just like this ? This wasn't normal. He should go home and get some rest. And still, he didn't move an inch.

Grantaire suddenly opened his eyes, and looked past the stage, past the people in the audience, directly at Enjolras. He looked surprised to see him there, but to his credit, didn't miss a note. He kept looking at him as he finished the song, the green of his eyes way too bright under the spotlights. It was too much for Enjolras. He turned tail and ran out of the coffee shop, almost breaking the door in his hast to get out. The cold air outside helped him calm down, but he still ran all the way to the subway, trying to leave the strange feeling that had overcome him behind.

~*~

Grantaire had felt quite moody those last few days. It made a striking contrast with how he'd been feeling before, and he didn't like one inch. His inspiration had gone through the window, leaving him with only one thing to draw again and again. And of course, it had to be Enjolras' face. He'd already filled a whole sketchbook with it, portraits, full-length drawings, sketches, paintings, pencil, crayons, markers... A world of Enjy that he couldn't look at any more, and couldn't bear to stop adding to. It was hell.

He knew perfectly while he was in this slump, and since when. And he really, really didn't understand what had gotten into him. Had Enjolras been offended by his song ? He looked pretty affected, or so Grantaire thought, but he didn't think it would insult him. He didn't even pick the song because of him, because he didn't even know that he would be there. It just was one of his favourites. And before he could talk to him, before he even recovered from the shock of seeing him, Enjolras had left, and hadn't come back since. Grantare was tempted to ask Bahorel about his whereabouts, but it wouldn't do. He was also tempted to rip the poster off the window, but that also wouldn't do. And would be a bit too low for him.

He'd grabbed one of the flyers and was doodling on the back - another Enjy, how strange ! - when the door opened. His heart did a little leap when he recognized the red hoodie. He straightened a little, trying to remember when he'd washed his hair. Enjolras didn't look at him, kept his eyes on the counter. The counter where his drawing was currently resting, visible to anyone. Grantaire grabbed it, but it was too late. Oh, perfect. It was just getting better and better, now, was it ? Enjolras was playing with the strap of his bag, and Grantaire stopped himself from thinking it was cute.

- Hi, he said in his most corporate tone, what will it be today ?

Enjolras' head shot up, but he lowered it as fast.

- The usual, please, he answered.

- That will be two minutes.

Grantaire set himself to work, focusing on each step of the way as not to think of Enjolras' closeness, and the way he was looking at him. Or not. Not that he did care, after all. he was bringing the cup - without any name - to the counter, when Enjolras suddenly asked :

- Were you drawing me ?

- Not at all, Grantaire hurriedly answered. I was...

- It's really beautiful.

Grantaire's brain promptly went into overload. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Luckily, Enjolras didn't look up, or he would have taken to the hills at the sight.

- It's just... he tried. You know. A test. Practice.

- I still think it's beautiful.

Grantaire had to bit his lip to refrain from doing something stupid. Since Enjolras had come in, he'd felt caught in some kind of Twilight-zone-esque situation, where everything was weird and distorted and not happening like it had to. Normally, when faced with someone flirting with them and drawing their faces, people tended to run away and not look back. But Enjolras was still there, looking at the drawing - at his own face. It was not normal. A pretty man like Enjolras shouldn't act like someone like Grantaire being somewhat of a creep was something acceptable. Even he knew that. Enjolras could get anyone he wanted, why would he show even the slightest tolerance for Grantaire's antics ?

And still, he didn't move. Not for a lack of coffee, he was holding the cup. And still watching the drawing. On a whim, Grantaire handed it to him.

- Do you want it ?

Enjolras finally looked at him. He was even prettier right now. Maybe because Grantaire thought he didn't want to come back ever again, and here he was, in front of him. It was unheard of. it was mystery, some kind of magic at work. He was dreaming. And since he was in a dream, he could do anything he wanted, right ? Without consequences. Like leaning on the counter to be closer from Enjolras, and ask him something wild, like if he wanted to go on a date with him.

Exactly what he was doing. He could hear the words as they left his lips, unable to stop them.

- Do you want to go to the market with me ? The Christmas one ?

Enjolras frowned, and Grantaire immediatly knew that he messed up. Of course Enjolras didn't want to go anywhere with him, he didn't want to be seen with him, of course not. People like Grantaire could only admire people like him from the side, but never step into the light. He had overstepped, greatly, and he was going to regret it.

- A market ? Enjolras asked. Do you really think it's a way to celebrate Christmas, just buy and buy ?

Grantaire needed a few seconds to get his mind back. When he did, everything that Enjolras said hit him in the face.

- No ! No, I don't mean... going to the mall, I mean... you know, the Christmas market, with all the stalls and lots of delicacies and good smells and...

Oh right, now he was babbling like an idiot.

- I mean, he corrected himself, people there sell things, yes, but it's mostly crafts, hand-made things, that kind of things. We should encourage artists and the like instead of of turning to malls and the like. You... don't think so ?

Enjolras mulled over it for a few seconds, during which Grantaire's life flashed before his eyes.

- I guess you're right.

Grantaire was happy to hear it, but that was not an acceptation, not really.

- So ? he pressed as gently as he could. What do you think ?

A new silence, a bit longer.

- Okay, Enjolras finally said.

- Great. I'll meat you near the waffle stand at seven, what do you think ?

Enjolras nodded, grabbed his coffee and left. Grantaire grabbed a broom to keep his mind busy, and started sweeping a floor already perfectly clean. A date ! He had a date with Enjolras ! And Enjolras agreed to it ! His heart felt like it had grew at least five sizes, and soon, his feet wouldn't touch the ground any more. He just couldn't wait. Just a few more hours. Just a few.

~*~

Enjolras arrived at the christmas market at 6:54 very precisely. He'd always liked being on time. Grantaire was already there, standing near a small house-shaped shack with fake snow on the roof, that smelled extremely sugary. He wasn't wearing his apron, of course he wasn't, but a leather jacket on a nice sweater. He still had his beanie on, but his curls had been combed. He looked very much like the person who didn't want to look like they were waiting for someone.

Enjolras stepped forwards. Grantaire saw him, and his entire face lit up. Enjolras smiled back. They stayed like that for a few awkward seconds, trying to find something to say that wouldn't sound too cheesy or stupid.

- Thank you for coming, Grantaire finally said. it's cool you could make it.

- I promised I would, didn't I ?

- Technically, you didn't promise, you just accepted.

- Do you really want me there, or are you trying to convince me ?

Grantaire looked taken aback for a second, and Enjolras quickly waved his hands around.

- No, sorry, he amended, this is not what I mean. I just... Okay. Let's start again, shall we ?

- Okay, Grantaire nodded. I'm, like, super happy you could come, I could even do a little dance.

- Please don't.

- Hey, I'll have you know that I'm an excellent dancer, and I'll prove it. But for now, how about we get to the visit ?

- Nice idea. I've... never been to a christmas market, Enjolras confessed.

- Then you're in the right hands, because I'm the perfect guide.

He made a gesture to get closer, then seemed to decide against it, and instead showed hi the market. Enjolras passed the small gate made of an ornate wood panel, and Grantaire followed suit.

The market wasn't very big, maybe two dozens shacks like the waffle one, arranged around a circular alley, around a very large christmas tree. Enjolra shad alwayw been against the tradition of wasting so much money on a day that didn't have any meaning anymore besides being an ode to consumerism, and so had never visited anything that ressembled this. The little houses were each lit in gold, presenting trinkets or food and drinks, beckoning people closer and praising their merchandises. All kind of people were striding through and pressing near the shacks, talking and laughing. There were shiny things everywhere, and lights, and sounds, and music, and people. He didn't even know where to look. Everything was starting to mix together, sights and sounds together.

- Hey, you alright ?

Grantaire's arm grabbed his, very gently, brought him a little closer. Enjolras breathed a little better. Not that he wanted to recognize it, but crowds could easily make him uneasy and uncomfortable ; standing above them on a stage was very different than walking through them, and it could swamp him easily. But it felt less overwhelming with someone at his side. Grantaire started to walk through the shacks, one by one, taking all his time, commenting everything he was seeing, navigating them with ease through the crowd, avoiding people or spots too loud or rowdy. The feeling of oppression receeded, and Enjolras was able to admire the hand-made lamps, shelves and jewelry without panicking. It felt weird, being held so close to someone like this, but it kept the panic at bay, and that was good. Also, Grantaire was polite and charming with anyone, and his running commentary was funny. And he smelled like pine and something else that he couldn't identify but was nice none-the-less. And he found out that he liked it a lot.

~*~

Grantaire was over the Moon. Scratch that, over Mars, Jupiter, Saturn even. He was currently walking through the most romantic place in town at this time of the year, holding close to the cutest boy in town, and said cutest boy did it willingly ! He could have died right now and not regret a thing. Okay, maybe a few, but the idea was there. Enjolras was almost hanging off his arm, and he had to slow down as to not drag him along.

He had feared for Enjolras, and for the date, when he'd seen his face pale and he almost ran away, and he'd try to make him feel better. It had worked, because Enjolras was now way chipper, and was going with him from shack to shack, admiring every little thing. It was very cute to see him so amazed by everything, and Grantaire's heart was beating so hard he was sure everyone could hear him over the christmas music.

They were slowly circling around the market, and soon they'd have seen everything. Grantaire wasn't sure Enjolras would be up for a second turn, even if he seemed to enjoy himself. But he didn't want the date to end. He'd want it to stay forever, but that wouldn't be an option, he knew it. But maybe a little longer....

He dragged Enjolras towards the christmas tree. There was a tiny house, barely the size of a cupboard, that served hot chocolate and christmas cookies. He went to the counter to order two. He had to let go of Enjolras' arm to do that, and he was ready to see him bolt, but no, Enjolras just waited for him. Grantaire handed him the chocolate and the cookies.

- Be careful, he said. They are addictive.

Enjolras shot him a look, but he ate it anyway. Judging by his expression, he quickly had to amend his opinion.

- Those are delicious !

- Right ? I mean, they are mostly a piece of butter in cookie form, but they are delicious. Here, dunk one in your chocolate.

Enjolras did so, and swallowed the cookie. He smiled, the same luminous smile that sent butterflies in Grantaire's stomach.

- Thank you, he said. This... is very nice. Thank you for the date.

- Thank you for coming.

As he said that, something white and fluffy passed in front of his eyes. Then a second, then many more. He looked up. Was it... snowing ? Yes. Yes, it was. They were having a date under a gigantic christmas tree, and it was snowing. He looked down at the exact moment when a snowflake landed on Enjolras' nose, making him a little crosseyed. It was adorable and Grantaire couldn't help to laugh a little. Enjolras didn't look offended by the outburst, he just wiped his nose, wrinkling it a little. If he was going to keep being this cute, Grantaire was going to need some medical help quickly.

The snow was getting thicker, adding small spots of white on Enjolras' hair. He was even beautiful like that, like wearing a crown shining like stars. Grantaire still wasn't totally sure he wasn't dreaming. Even at his most romantic and idealistic, he hadn't pictured anything like this : him, almost hand in hand with an adorable boy, under the snow, at christmas. It was the best present ever. And said boy was looking at him, like he was happy to be with him. Without thinking, he held out his hand.

- Care to dance ? With me ?

Enjolras looked confused for a second. The only music playing was a traditionnal christmas song, not really dancing music. or maybe he was just pondering if it was a good idea or not. After a few tensed seconds, he gingerly took Grantaire's hand, and put his free hand on his shoulder. Grantaire almost didn't dare to put his on Enjolras' waist. It seemed almost... profane. But nothing burst into flames when he did, Enjolras just moved a little.

They started moving, slowly, under the long branchs covered with tinsel. Enjolras was quite grateful, and luckily, Grantaire didn't step on his feet. It was magical, holding him close like this, dancing with him in the snow.

- I told you I was the best dancer, Grantaire said to break the spell.

- I will need more proof.

Grantaire made him spin, getting a squeak out of him. He caught him back, hand back on his waist.

- See ?

- Okay. I'll admit it.

- Thank you.

They fell back into silence, looking at each other. Grantaire couldn't look away from those blue eyes, and Enjolras wasn't either.

- Enjolras, Grantaire muttered.

- What ?

- I'd really like to kiss you.

Enjolras just blinked, and Grantaire suddenly realized what he'd say.

- Fuck, I mean, I don't want to... No, please, ignore everything I said. I shouldn't ask for this like this, and it's not... It's not because we're... Sorry, I'm messing everything up.

There was a squeeze on his hand, and Enjolras stepped a little closer.

- You want to ?

- Yes, but...

- I think... I think I'd like it too.

What ? Did he hear clearly ? He could recognize the song playing over their heads, so he hadn't suddenly lost his hearing. But that couldn't be right. And still, Enjolras was looking at him, almost... expectantly.

Grantaire bent down, very slowly, leaving Enjolras all the time in the world to run away if he wanted. But he didn't. The kiss was light, almost chaste, and very short. Grantaire didn't want to run his luck, and he straightened up almost immediatly. Enjolras had closed his eyes, and he didn't open them right away. When he finally did, there was a hint of red on his cheeks, and his smile was... shy.

Grantaire bent down to lean his forehead against Enjolras'. He wanted to stay like this, but Enjolras sneezed once, twice, almost headbutting him in the process. Grantaire couldn't help but laugh.

- Talk about a mood swing, he managed to say.

- Sorry. That was a nice kiss. I didn't want to spoil the moment.

- Don't worry. We should get you somewhere warm before I only get an ice cube to kiss.

He grabbed Enjolras by the arm again, gently led him out of the market.

- What do you think of stopping by at my place ? I have those christmas cookies, and I can make you the coffee you like.

That was pushing his luck, he'd already used a lot of it this evening. But Enjolras just stepped a little closer.

- That would be great. Especially the cookie part.

-They were right, the way of the heart is really through the stomach.

Enjolras gave him a nudge that didn't really do anything. Grantaire just laughed. Once again, he offered his arm to Enjolras, who slid his own through it, and together, they started to walk back to his place under the snow.

---

Songs are “Que restera-t-il de nous ?” by Gauvain Sers and “(Can’t help) falling in love with you” by Elvis Presley.

#les miserables #enjolras #grantaire #lesmisholidayexchange #bahorel #joly #bossuet #musichetta #so much sweetness #this is so self indulgent #like a hallmark movie #featuring our two favourite dorks

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daisylincs · 5 years ago

Note

Hear me out, 15+69 for staticquake. Could be interesting.

15 = Criminal AU, 69 = Flirting Under Fire

You're right, this could definitely be interesting! And quite a lot of fun, too, especially after I added a fakeout makeout (I couldn't resist.) As always, thanks for the great prompt, Grace 🤗

Daisy is a lieutenant in the local police force, and part of a crack police team known in the station as the Shield. Their team, specifically, is famous for handling those cases most other teams would crash and burn in. (Shield never crashes and burns - except maybe Hunter's one-liners. Those should be treated with a fire extinguisher and a ten-foot pole.)

Anyway, today's case is a fairly standard one. Daisy's done this kind of thing a thousand times before - she's pretty sure she can do it with her eyes closed. After all, what's so hard about finding and arresting someone when you know exactly what they look like? Especially if it's just one guy.

So, no, she's not worried. Which is of course why this case blows up in her face.

It starts out well enough. She goes to the location an anonymous tip-off alerted them to, and finds her guy pretty quickly.

And, God, it's almost insulting how easy this is. Here her guy is, going through his bag of stolen goods in broad daylight, in the alley behind a Walmart, of all places.

"Hands in the air," she tells him, drawing her gun. "And please step away from that bag. Your amateurishness is hurting my professional pride."

He turns around slowly, raising his hands, and she does a kind of appreciative double take. CCTV feeds really don't do him justice.

Too bad he's a criminal, she reflects, shaking her head at her own rotten luck. Why is it that all the cute guys I meet are criminals?

"Ma'am," the guy says, jolting her from her thoughts. "This isn't what it looks like, I promise."

"So you're saying you didn't just steal that stuff from Lai Shi Labs?" Daisy asks with blinding sarcasm.

He winces, ducking his head. "Okay, yeah, this looks bad," he admits.

Daisy is already getting out her handcuffs. "Yes, yes it does."

"I did steal this monoalkenicterrigenoethynol from the lab," he confesses, and Daisy takes a step back just because of that word. Damn. Jemma would be impressed.

"But," the guy says, and something in his sincere blue eyes stops her from handcuffing him immediately, "I'm not a thief."

Daisy has to shake her head at the sheer ridiculousness of that excuse. During her time as a cop, she's heard a few wild ones, but she's pretty sure this one beats them all. He admits he stole the… unpronounceable science thing, but now he's saying he's not a thief? Really?

"Dude," she says, "you're kind of insulting me here. How dumb do you think I am? Most thieves I go after at least try to fight me, not explain to me why they're not thieves."

"I don't think you're dumb," he says earnestly.

"Then why," she asks, channeling her best May-like deadpan stare, "are you trying to convince me you're not a thief while holding a bag of stolen goods in your hands?"

He winces again. "Okay, I can see how this looks really bad. But you haven't arrested me yet, so that's a plus, right?"

"That's just because I've been too caught up in despairing over how bad a thief you are," she says. (Oh, snap. Hunter should really take notes.)

"Ma'am, listen," he says, and there's some urgent layer in his voice that makes her pause. "This stuff I stole - I helped invent it. You're not really a thief if you're stealing your own product, right?"

He doesn't wait for her to reply. "But the point is, I helped make this. I know what it does."

"Okay, I’ll play,” Daisy says, putting her hands on her hips. She can always arrest him later. “What does it do?"

The guy hesitates, then starts to explain in a rush. "It's monoalkenicterrigenoethynol. It alters the biomolecular structure of the host's DNA, causing a total change in the macromolecule arrangement of the -"

His eyes go wide half-way through his last sentence (which is fine, Daisy was understanding, like, nothing that came out of his mouth, other than the word the.) "Shit," he breathes, looking at something over her shoulder.

Daisy whirls around and sees a red SUV with the words Lai Shi Labs emblazoned across the side pulling up next to the Walmart.

Okay, just how long has he been wasting her time if the owners are already showing up? She glances down at her watch and yelps. "Shit, okay. I don't care how cute you are, I really have to arrest you now."

"No," he says, grabbing her arm. "You need to run."

"Are you crazy?" she exclaims, yanking her arm away with an incredulous glance. "I'm arresting -"

But she's cut off by a shower of bullets hitting the ground just inches from where she's standing.

She turns to the thief-not-thief guy with wide eyes. "Okay, running sounds good right about now," she says, following him around the corner and into the next alley.

And because she's not stupid, she radios for backup on the way.

But she knows it'll be a while before they can get to her.

Which means she's currently stuck huddled behind a dumpster with a guy and his bag of stolen goods. Yay.

Oh, and did she mention the part where they're getting shot at? Double yay!

"Do you believe me now?" the guy yells at her through the rain of bullets.

Daisy snorts an incredulous laugh. "Believe you? Uh, no!"

"Why not?" he yells back.

She rolls her eyes. "Because, genius, you stole their stuff. Of course they're mad."

But she can't deny that a reaction like this is a little… extreme.

Okay, a lot extreme.

Fine, he has a point.

"So, what's your name?" he calls once there's a momentary lull in the rattle of bullets against the dumpster.

"Daisy," she says distractedly, trying to peer around the dumpster without, you know, getting her head blown off.

"Pretty," he says, and she can just hear the smile in his voice. "Like you."

She turns around to give him an incredulous look. "Are you really flirting with me while we're being shot at?"

He grins at her, and she thinks it's quite unfair how attractive it makes him look. "Why not?"

"I don't know… oh, yeah, bullets? Impending death? That ring any bells?" she asks, trying to get back to her assessment of the situation.

But this guy doesn't give up. "You haven't asked me for my name yet."

"Maybe that’s because we are about to die.”

He gives her a heart-meltingly warm smile. "Isn't that the perfect time to flirt, then?"

“Uh, no,” she says, as though it should be obvious. (It should.) “The perfect time to flirt would be after we’ve gotten out of here, in a nice little coffee shop.”

She can practically hear the grin in his voice as he replies, “oh, so you’re saying you would flirt with me at another time?”

Daisy splutters. “I didn’t say that!”

“You kind of did,” he argues, blue eyes sparkling playfully.

“You’re delusional,” she scoffs, peering around the dumpster again (and though she would never admit it, it’s partially to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. He’s cute, okay?)

“And you’re pretty,” he says to her back.

She turns around to give him a deadpan stare. “Are you ever going to quit with the flirting?”

“As soon as you ask me for my name,” he answers cheerfully.

She shakes her head, but there’s a grin tugging at her lips despite her best efforts. “You know what? Fine. If it’ll shut you up… what’s your name, guy who is totally a thief despite not thinking he is?”

“I’m not a thief,” he protests for the two-hundred-and-fortieth time. “I helped create the monoalkenicterrigenoethynol, and it’s my call to say it shouldn’t be released into the public.”

“Right, so you’re a hero,” she says, the amount of sarcasm in her voice enough to knock out a full-grown elephant. “Forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet in worship.”

“I’d rather we go out on a few dates first,” he says, and oh my God, he did not just say that.

“Do you know my friend Hunter?” she asks him. “Because that really sounds like something he’d say.”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” he says, then adds probably just to spite her, “Daisy.”

“I’m going to regret giving you my name, aren’t I?” she asks with a long-suffering groan.

He grins cheerfully at her. “Oh, yes.”

“At least tell me yours so I can return the favour,” she says, because come on, fair’s fair. (She can just see Jemma’s smirk at this point, and she mentally tells her no, Jemma, I’m not flirting back, don’t be dumb, it’s just to shut him up.)

The guy seems to think differently, if the way his eyes light up in amusement is any indication. “I’m Lincoln,” he says. “Really pleased to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, rolling her eyes and directing her full attention to ignoring the little pleased glow she gets in her stomach.

He looks like he’s about to say something else, but luckily for Daisy’s sanity, the dumpster chooses that exact moment to blow apart, a bullet whizzing between them and narrowly missing both of their heads.

“Okay, time to go,” she says, taking charge instinctively and dashing down the alley. Dead end. Crap.

“Through here,” Lincoln says, grabbing her hand and tugging her towards the rusted steel gate she missed in the shadows.

She takes the lead again, keeping a hold of his hand for practical purposes. (Oh my god, stop smirking, mind-Jemma.) Maybe they can lose the Lai Shi guys in the mess of alleys behind the mall.

They almost succeed. They're right about to come out into the main road when they see the red SUV pull up.

Now, Daisy is a police officer, trained in one of the best teams in the business. She specializes in taking stock of a situation and acting on what she assesses, fast.

That's exactly what she does. She sees the SUV, sees the corner of the alley as a potential barrier between them, sees how it can trick their enemies into passing right by if they just add a little distraction.

The first thing that pops into her mind is a stupid, cliché idea that has absolutely nothing to do with how she and Lincoln have been flirting-not-flirting, and even less to do how she thinks he's really cute. All there is to it is that she's a good officer, and she saw an opportunity for a good distraction. That's all. Definitely.

But as she pushes him against the wall and kisses him, deliberately positioning it so that her hair blocks his face, she's really not complaining about this particular distraction.

They keep kissing even when they hear the SUV take off again - just to be sure they’re safe, of course. That’s why.

Just as they have to pull apart, out of breath, Daisy’s walkie-talkie crackles. “I’m here, Dais,” her partner Mack says, with just a hint of amusement in his voice.

Daisy turns around, and sure enough, there’s the familiar police car. She can feel her cheeks burning as she steps away from Lincoln, even though she knows she has nothing to be embarrassed about. It was just a distraction, after all.

"Need a ride?" Mack asks, rolling down the window and shooting her a shit-eating grin. Oh, wonderful. Distraction or no, the teasing about this is never going to stop.

“Come on,” she grumbles, tugging Lincoln into the car by the hand and ignoring the way Mack hides a grin. “Let’s go.”

The ride back is one of the most awkward of her life - she and Lincoln have no idea what to say to each other after, well, that, and it doesn’t help that Mack keeps smirking at them in the mirror. Daisy’s almost glad when they get to the base.

Coulson is waiting for them inside. “Oh, good, you got the criminal,” he says when he sees Lincoln step out.

Daisy coughs, not wanting to meet Lincoln’s gaze. “Actually, sir… it’s a little bit more complicated than that.”

“Oh?” Coulson’s eyebrows fly up.

Daisy coughs again. “Yeah… he says he kind of had to steal it, to prevent it from being released into the public.”

“That would be a disaster, sir,” Lincoln supplies helpfully.

“Well, Fitzsimmons will be able to tell us soon enough,” Coulson says, reluctantly motioning for Lincoln to come inside.

Daisy would never admit it, but she’s tense as she waits for Jemma’s results. (Judging by Mack’s knowing look, though, she’s not fooling anybody.)

When Fitzsimmons have finished working their magic, Daisy almost melts with relief when their faces are serious.

“Sir, this is one incredibly dangerous substance,” Fitz says, his blue eyes serious.

“It’s actually really, really lucky you stole these vials when you did, Lincoln,” Jemma tells them seriously. “If this stuff had been released into the public, well… let’s just say it’s better not to think about it.”

Coulson’s face is wry as he turns to Lincoln. “I hate to say it, but Mr Campbell is... not a criminal.” He gives Lincoln a grudging nod, and Daisy has to bite back a grin at just how grudging it is. “It seems you’ve done us all a favour.”

Lincoln nods, keeping his face serious for Coulson’s benefit. “Thank you, sir.”

But as soon as everyone else is out of the room, he turns to Daisy with a fully I-told-you-so smirk. “That’s a date you owe me.”

She folds her arms. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Well, you said you wouldn’t worship me as a hero until we’d gone on a few dates,” he reminds her.

She keeps up her unimpressed facade. “Pretty sure you said that.”

He ignores her and takes a step closer. “Well, now that I actually am a hero…”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s biting back a grin. “Alright, alright, hotshot. We’ll go on a date.”

“Really?” he asks, and the simultaneously surprised and shyly delighted look in his eyes is so sweet it completely melts the glare off her face.

She reaches for his hand. “Really.”

(The rest of the base can tease her all she likes - Daisy’s finally found a cute guy who’s not, you know, a criminal. Though they do have a very funny story to tell all their friends about that…

It’s not the happy ending Daisy expected. But it’s a good one.)

#tropes mashup #criminal au #flirting under fire #fakeout makeout #staticquake #bullet-point fic

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years ago

Text

Recent videos with Michael wearing glasses again - and the occasional one where Ryan’s wearing his glasses?

I just want FAHC AU pre-Fake AH crew where these idiots have to hide out for a while Because Reasons and their idea of a disguise involves glasses, because of course.

(If it works for Clark Kent, who are they to question?)

Just like.

They go all-out with the Civilian Look?

Michael and Ryan immediately swing towards Classic Nerd because Ryan totally was one before he kind of stumbled into becoming the Vagabond.

Michael is just, hey. He figures no one would expect it from him, and to be honest he totally is a nerd. (He just covers it up with the ~anger and blowing shit up/setting things on fire stuff, so you know.)

Or maybe this isn’t FAHC AU at all and some sekrit spy bullshit and the classic nerd aesthetic is how they dress when they’re not on a mission or whatever?

And then the romcom Meet Cute happens.

One of them stopping at a coffee shop/bakery to meet with a contact - but oh no! Their clumsy civilian persona bumps into someone else and then it’s awkward, bumbling apologies and shy smiles and this oh no, they’re hot realization.

Meanwhile, their contact/handler who’s like, idk. Gavin or Jeremy is watching all this go down like what the actual fuck?

Even better if their eyes meet and they suddenly know the idiots still stuck in romcom mode Aren’t What They Appear To Be. But instead of going to defcon one or whatever with the paranoia and suspicion (how ~convenient they’d both happen to arrange a meet at the same spot, you know?), they shrug and settle back to see how things shake out with their idiots?

And then from there it’s Michael and Ryan doing the awkward flirting and even more awkward dating bit considering they’re both trying to keep their sekrits from one another and are totally head over heels for one another.

Eventually it all leads to some super Dramatic reveal when their enemies or whatever catch up to them and there are shootouts and car chases and that late night first-aide session in a cheap motel somewhere while they try to figure out what the hell is going on/get into contact with Gavin and Jeremy and such.

(Lingering touches and awkwardness/wariness of realizing they’re not just a couple of nerds but actually wanted criminals/highly trained sekrit agents and what does this mean for their awkward little romance now?)

And then some dramatic climactic fight somewhere and good luck kisses - first and last??? - expecting to die and what can it hurt to kiss this asshole before they go out in a blaze of glory, right?

Meanwhile, you’ve got Gavin and Jeremy having their own little meetings all over the place to root out whatever trouble is coming after their idiots.

Late night meetups at an all-night diner and soft little smiles because it’s been a long goddamned day for them. (Michael and Ryan do not make things easy, and oh, God, did you see what those morons did on their latest date? Where did they learn to socialize?)

Clandestine meets at the cliche park bench in front a duck pond and so on, sharing secrets - they’re not enemies, after all, and theirs is a dangerous business and it pays to know people and so on. (Favors that can be called in somewhere along the road and all that, and also Michael and Ryan deserve something nice and they could be that for one another, so yeah.)

And just.

Idk, dropping by with pizza and drinks and taking a break from the oodles of shit they have to sift through to help their idiots and maybe they fall asleep on each other on someone’s couch with a shitty move on the televison and takeout containers on the coffee table and all that?

ALSO.

Having to force their idiots to not be weird about things when everything’s resolved and it’s totally okay for them to be in a relationship because hey, nice things? But also friends/allies/and just fucking kiss you already you assholes, this shit got old real fucking fast, okay?

Also, also.

Realizing they’re more or less in a relationship themselves and oh, hey, when did that happen? But also ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and then, idk, smooches or adopting kittens together.

(Oooooh, also. One of them showing up at the other’s place during a rainstorm before things get resolved with at least - at least - one bedraggled kitten tucked into their coat and that awkward smile and “It followed me home?” without catching the bit about calling the other person’s place home, because they, too, are idiots who are totally gone on one antoher, and anyway, the kitten is cute as hell and already owns both their hearts and just. Yes.)

#ragehappy #fahc au #sekrit agent aus #myan #jeremwood #technically not a fic #vagrant fic

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dunderklumpen · 6 years ago

Note

When you read the long fics list me pls those with happy endings (JB endgame) thank you very much.

You know, I’ve been lowkey dying to rec my favourites, so I’m not letting this opportunity pass. These are my favourite fics (>10k and/or multichapter) from my bookmarks. Most are AUs, as I’m working through ao3′s AU tag first.

Canon

Pretty by astolat (E but more like M, 30k, season 4 divergence)UST following Jaime and Brienne’s arrival in King’s Landing. Jaime gets spurned by Cersei and lusts for Brienne, who lusts back but has Standards and (self-imposed) Obligations. One of the few fics that does justice to the fallout of the Jaime/Cersei relationship, in which Cersei is treated as an actual character. A lot of this fic is Jaime being terribly chuffed about the fact that his wife can beat/kill the shit out of anyone who raises a finger against her and it’s glorious.

Travelling Far by astolat (E but more like M, 24k, canon divergence)Jaime decides to join Brienne’s quest to bring the Stark girls back home. Much family feels, it’s all terribly soft and sadjhk

AUs

Blood Bank by Coraleeveritas(E, 40k, doctors)Based on the Bon Iver song Blood Bank (which I coincidentally can’t stop listening to). Brienne is an ER doctor, Jaime a visitor. Both have children/family in hospital, they meet at the blood bank where Jaime is giving blood; things get heated like whoa. Minor subplot of Jaime (re)connecting with his children, Cersei is an asshole but virtually non-existent. Also I have to add that this writer’s style is AMAZING; it’s much more novelistic and descriptive than your standard fic, and absolutely beautifully written.

Human Touch by Lady_in_Red (T, 17k, doctor/patient and recovery)Jaime is suffering from phantom pains after the loss of his hand, and his last hope is a treatment Brienne offers. They kinda like each other, but Brienne is a Professional, so there’s lots of UST with a soft ending.

Madonna on the Balcony by QuizzicalQuinnia(M, 40k, artist/muse)Gosh okay so this is probably the only artist/muse fic I’ve ever genuinely liked. Jaime is a grumpy one-handed sculptor-turned-teacher who is sulking at some kind of resort thing, Brienne is a slightly traumatised rescue worker who is sent on leave after an accident. Jaime notices different parts of Brienne’s body from his balcony, and it Inspires him, so he seeks her out. Probably one of the more abstract fics I’ve read; it features a really nice lowkey commentary on art, beauty, and parts/wholes.

Mile High by bergamot(M, 20k, airport meet-not-so-cute)Jaime and Brienne meet at the airport; Jaime “subtly” arranges to move Brienne to first class because he finds here Interesting. Lots of excellent bickering, things get a bit heated, but not as heated as you’d hope judging from the title. Until they do. idk what I’m saying. XD

quarantined. by justme (silver_spring)(not rated but T-ish, 27k, doctors)Jaime and Brienne are doctors who get exposed to some kind of virus, so they have to spend ten days in quarantine. Fun times, exasperation, and awkward boners ensue. Enemies (ish) to friends to lovers.

Spy Games by Lady_in_Red(M, 16k, secret service/undercover)Three-part series which containing snapshots of Jaime and Brienne’s partnership from grudgingly tolerating each other to being stupidly in love. In the first and longest fic Jaime and Brienne go undercover in a suburban neighbourhood, and one of the subplots is that Brienne is forced to read Fifty Shades of Grey. Jaime voluntarily (and secretly) reads the damn book. Highly recommended, I wish there were more fics like this!

Working Girl Brienne series by CaptainTarthister (E, 170k, various)Smutty smut with feelings where Brienne meets Jaime in different professional situations, which quickly turn… less professional. My favourites are Manslayer (journalists AU, 22k, Brienne has to write a perfume review and Jaime is smitten), A Lion at the Door (hairdresser/celebrity AU, 45k, Jaime breaks up with Cersei and wants to lop his locks off, much smut ensueth), and At All Fronts (bodyguard/royals AU, 30k, Jaime and Brienne are in a sorta secret relationship, this fic chronicles the fallout of an assassination attempt and Realisations of Feelings).

Clean hands by Gwen77 (T, 13k, lawyers)Brienne is an idealistic lawyer; she and Jaime went to law school together and he occasionally tries to poach her for his company lmao. Brienne is forced to work together with Jaime on a case and they catch feelings, Shit hits the fan, and there’s slight temporary angst, but all’s well that ends well. Brienne has zero confidence and puts herself down a lot, which is kinda hard to read cause she’s so brilliant. ��

Stacked by QuizzicalQuinnia(E, 11k, academia and libraries)This fic is ridiculously uncomfortable for me because it’s set in academia and dear lord phd candidate/associate professor relationships make me so so so so uncomfortable. BUT. It’s soooo goood ugh. Brienne is a phd candidate hunting down an obscure medieval source (i.e. a future and more successful me), and she challenges Jaime, who wants to recruit her as a research assistant, to help her track down said source. JAIME’S FIELD OF EXPERTISE IS THE HISTORY OF INSULTS FHDAJDGAJ. Anyway, he commits to the challenge because he’s s m i t t e n and library research/steamy times/manuscript abuse ensues. It’s terribly cute and hot, but I just can’t with the eating pASTRIES WITHIN THE VICINITY OF MEDIEVAL MANUSCRIPTS. SACRILEGE. Also this has my favourite first kiss scenario probably.

On the Night’s Watch by Miss_M (M, 105k, detectives)THIS IS HANDS DOWN MY FAVOURITE FSGJAGHDJA. Okay so the case is hands down disgusting (think Reek storyline in the books), but the story is more partner-focused than case-focused. Jaime is a bitter disgraced detective, who’s partnered with newbie Brienne, who is transferred after an Incident. Relationship starts off antagonistic, but develops into mutual respect and, of course, lust. Kind of slow-burn but not really. The development of the relationship and the whole detectives thing is really well done and I’d read 500 more of this fic it’s so good fhsjdk. This author has written a few other fics set in law enforcement, but this really is the best one.

Storks Ltd. by FaerieChild (M, 70k, coworkers and babyfic)So tbh the premise isn’t my thing at all, but I thought the story was really well done, so I’m including it. Brienne works at the Lannister company and desperately wants a child because she’s the last of her house. Jaime is in a relationship with Cersei, who won’t let him be a parent to their kids, which is the one thing he really wants. So Jaime and Brienne enter an Agreement where he fathers the kid, but also gets to be a father. Jaime/Cersei fizzles out, feelings happen, Jaime (re)connects with his already existing kids.

The Book of Love by hardlyfatal (M, 60k, airport meet-not-so-cute)Jaime and Brienne meet in less-than-ideal circumstances in an airport and are condemned to each other’s company when all flights are cancelled and Jaime happens to have rented the last rental car, and also Brienne happens to be a cellist in Tyrion’s orchestra, talk about coincidences. So they roadtrip (that’s a verb now) to their destination and catch feelings. The roadtrip part is absolutely excellent 💯👌 but obviously things get a little complicated when they reach their destination before the happy ending.

Flat White by shiphitsthefan (M, 10k, coffee shop)Jaime is a barista and obsessed with the tall and mysterious flat-chested lady who has a very specific coffee order.

Jaime’s Awkward Boner June collection (various)Does exactly what it says on the tin and it’s glorious. Definitely my favourite trope in this fandom.

Bonus: There’s Always Much Ado About Nothing by imagineagreatadventure (T, 1k, theatre)Yeah I’m including this purely because it’s a motherflipping Much Ado About Nothing theatre fic fhasjk

#replies #tothesummerday #jaime x brienne #fic rec #are we gonna share a ship again??#I'm so excited at the prospect dsajk

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mllersjoel · 6 years ago

Note

Dark bellamy long fics? dark clarke? any farely unknown fae/faerie, mob/gangs? some good enemies to lovers? strangers meet cutes? Fairytales? anything i haven't read but is worth a good read? 😭

BITCH IM SO HERE FOR U GET READY.

(i kinda went overboard but i regret nothing)

Dark!Bellamy

Wrecked - 91k

She looked out into the water, wondering where Wells’ lifeboat was, and if everyone else had gotten to safety in time. She wondered if the crew radioed for help before they jumped onto the lifeboat.

And she wondered if she was going to die on this lifeboat.

Deserted Island AU where deadly storms and dangerous wildlife were the least of their problems.

I either wanted to kill Bellamy or kiss him. It’s good, trust me.

Fae/Faerie

With a Mouthful of Thorns - 26k

They all know Bellamy Blake is something else, or part something else, even if no one ever says it. It's in the way his eyes are just a little too deep, his cheekbones a little too sharp, everything about him a little bit too perfect. Everyone growing up in Arkadia knows about the Folk. They're used to recognizing them, even in their glamours, and steering clear. Bellamy isn't one. But he's half, and it's enough to make people equal parts fascinated and wary. It's enough make him something of a spectacle.

Of course, for most of Clarke's life, he's been the sort of spectacle that involves people daring each other to try to get him to tell lies (Clarke doesn't know if, like the full blooded fae, he can't or if he just likes to keep people guessing) or do small magic (he never does) when they've had a little too much to drink at parties. Most of the time, the people of Arkadia forget that Bellamy's any different from the rest of them. Until something goes wrong, and then he draws everyone's suspicious gaze. It's the way of the world, to look to place the blame in someone who is other in some way. Bellamy Blake, with his eyes that look right into you, that know you, he's other in a way that scares people.

@grumpybell IS SUCH A GREAT AUTHOR AND THEY WROTE THIS SO ITS GONNA BE GOOD.

MORE UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS IS GONNA GET LONG

Want a bellarke fic rec? Drop an ask!

Enemies To Lovers

i'm still growing up (into the one you can call your love) - 2.7k (yes this is a shameless self plug)

"'Oh shit. He is hot.' Dark, messy curls adorn his head, almost calling Clarke to run her hands through them. The opening chords play out, and a husky, smooth voice fills the room. It’s intoxicating, the way he sings, moving his hips in time with the beat.

His eyes search the crowd and find hers. Dark eyeliner frames them, winged out in a sharp line. He smirks at her, winking once before looking away and belting out a note. The crowd goes wild, and he visibly soaks it in, smiling wide at their energy."

Or: The punk rock/soulmate AU, where touching your soulmate for the first time makes tattoos appear.

This is my fav fic I’ve written out of the two fics I have posted. Give it a chance.

The House Guest - 93k

Clarke loves her best friend, so when Octavia's brother needs a place to stay, Clarke doesn't think twice about offering up her loft. It's no trouble at all, that is until Clarke realizes what a surly, arrogant prick he is. When a few days turns into a few weeks it's too late to back out, and now she finds herself stuck with an unwelcome roommate.

PART 2 (Ch. 20-27): The second half of this story deals with some darker content. Someone from Clarke's past comes back to haunt her, and neither she nor Bellamy realize that there's something more sinister standing between them and their possible reconciliation than either of them could have predicted.

HOHO THIS FIC,,,,, SO GOOD,,,,

You Look As Good As The Day I Met You - 10k

“It’s me, okay? Clarke Griffin?” Then, with a dramatic flourish of her fingers, “The kid who sat behind you in all your classes, the same one whose laces you tied together every other day for shit and giggles?”

“Holy shit,” he gapes, recognition dawning. “That’s— Princess?”

She shoots him a venomous glare. “Don’t call me that.”

Or: Clarke’s not quite sure how to deal when her ex-nemesis from elementary school shows up. His newfound attractiveness is definitely the most worrying part.

AHHHH THIS FIC MADE ME SO SOFT AND ITS HONESTLY SO GOOD @prosciuttoe IS AMAZING

Just as You Are Mine - 23k

Bellamy’s already there by the time she makes her way to the centre of the room.

She didn’t get a good look at him before, so Clarke takes the time to look at him now. He’s not all that much taller than she is, but the breadth of his shoulders feels worrying, somewhat. His skin is marked with a array of calluses and scars, white against his tanned skin, and the deft, sure movements he makes confirms that he’s every inch the warrior he’s promised to be.

Swallowing, she steps forward, meeting his gaze. His face remains carefully blank, same as before, when Kane had told her that they’d be married.

In hindsight, marrying a total stranger may not have been one of Clarke's brightest ideas.

(Or: Arranged Marriage AU. Clarke seals an alliance with the Broadleaf clan by marrying Bellamy Blake.)

HEHEHEHHE THIS IS BY @prosciuttoe AGAIN BECAUSE IM A SLUT FOR THEIR WORKS. READ. IM BEGGIN U.

Strangers Meet Cutes

Of Misunderstandings and New Beginnings - 3k

All Clarke wants after a hellish week is to go to her favourite coffee shop, sit at her favourite table, and get some sketching done. Unfortunately, someone's already sitting there and it doesn't seem like he's willing to give up his seat next to the power outlet. But the guy is stupidly attractive with his thick glasses and irritated scowl, and Clarke's so exhausted that she's willing to share if it means she gets to sketch for a few hours.

THIS. THIS IS GREAT. ITS FLUFFY AND CUTE AND UGH JUST TRUST ME.

live a little crazy - 2.5k

Bellamy Blake is a serious, real adult who almost definitely has his shit together. He sleeps before midnight, he manages a café, and although he does laugh at the occasional dick joke he would still consider himself mature. He does his fucking taxes, which is basically a certificate of adulthood. As a serious adult, he isn’t really concerned with the supernatural.

At least until Clarke showed up.

This is my second favourite fic out of the two fics I’ve written. Clarke is supernatural, basically.

Fairytales

Facing Tempests of Dust - 24k

Clarke Griffin has grown up in the perfectly controlled environment of the Ark dome, a city created to withstand the destruction of the world outside. Now, she's been sent out with 100 other delinquents to try to survive on their own, but she knows the truth. They weren't sent away for their crimes, but rather to buy time for others in Ark, as the city is failing. While Clarke struggles to lead her band of teenagers, she encounters a man with strange abilities and an offer she finds hard to refuse.

BELLAMY IS A GROUNDER AND HES PROTECTIVE AND ALSO SOMETIMES A DOG.

Oh Darling, Here’s Hoping - 10k

She's five, when she finds the wolf cub in the woods, bleeding and crying, black fur wet and sticky with his blood, leaving red smears on her fingers when she picks him up. He trembles against her, and he's almost too heavy for her small arms to carry, but she does so, determined, cradling him close to her chest, careful.

Her mother's lip curls when she sees the creature. “Leave it to die, Clarke. Or better yet, put it out of its misery. That's one less beast in these woods.”

Clarke juts out her jaw and shakes her head, holding the cub a little closer. She's not going to leave him; she's going to save him.

BELLAMY IS ALSO SOMETIMES A DOG IN THIS ONE

#bellarke fic recs #may speaks #I GOTCHU #bellarke #the 100 #fanfiction #wow i went FERAL with this one huh #Anonymous

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spring-emerald · 7 years ago

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the single best combination

For OiSuga Weekend 2018 Day 1: forest / supernatural / coffee shop AU

Summary:

In an effort to distinguish himself from the rest of the magic practitioners in town, Oikawa with his unique brand of thinking outside the box, decided to put up a coffee shop (with a twist of course) instead of the expected good ol’ magic shop.

Note: Title came from this song. Happy OiSuga Weekend! Enjoy! :D

AO3

“How terribly millennial of you,” Hanamaki quipped then, when he proposed his idea, when they asked him about his future plans now that he’s a newly licensed magic practitioner.

“You can’t deny that it’s a brilliant idea,” he boasts back without looking at his friend, playing with his gold plated license instead, making it catch the light, because only then can he see his name embossed on it in a special matte ink.

And what a brilliant and really well thought of idea it really is. Oikawa’s strengths have always lied in brewing potions, rather than casting spells. Not to say that he sucks too much at the latter, but he’s always been shrewd enough to focus and play on his strengths to ensure his success. Also, as much as his target market are people or well, creatures, really, that need one magical brew or the other, he wants his shop to be open to catering non-magical beings alike.

And a coffee shop seemed like a perfect balance between those two worlds.

“Which is few and far between.” Iwaizumi roughly grabs his arm, pushing it down, when the card’s reflection hit him in the eyes.

“Rude, Iwa-chan.”

It’s Matsukawa who asks, “Have you found a place already?”

Oikawa distractedly hums, keeping his license inside his wallet. “At the forest in the small mountain,”

“What?” Iwaizumi turns to him. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this.”

“Because this is the first time I’ve told you.”

Iwaizumi levels him a glare. “Why the mountain forest? The town has plenty of empty shops that can be renovated and turned into a cafe.”

Oikawa scrunched his nose in slight disgust. “Ugh, no thanks, Iwa-chan. The town is crowded enough of various shops as it is. Too many competition too. I need to stand out. And to do that, I have to make sure that clients specifically seek me out.”

He doesn’t mention that he can justify the exorbitant amount he would eventually charge them, claiming that for an out of the way shop, it’s bound to be how business works.

Oikawa’s well aware of the risk, and he understands that he might be in over his head for planning it like this. Traditional patrons still prefer their tried and tested (but boring and old) magicians, but he’s banking on the fact that times have been changing too. His cohorts and all that are starting to dominate the world. Despite the risks, Oikawa is confident that this will work out.

Besides, he’s not charming for nothing after all.

And so, half a year since he started, he could safely say that it’s going well. Better than he initially expected, even. He’s built it in on what he considers a prime location, not technically in the heart of the forest, but in a clearing by the edge of it that has a good view of the town below.

It does make it challenging to find, but the complimentary drink he offers -a rejuvenating brew- is always enough to appease his clients. He’s also established a reputation of being better than the potions master in town, who only accepts order of potions they know to brew, because Oikawa doesn’t particularly shy away from concocting highly specific mixtures.

They were very willing to pay the price, for such a high quality product too.

It helps as well that he has a steady stream of customers in the form of the wood nymphs, who surprisingly enough, are really just here to try out the regular blended coffee. And maybe flirt with him sometimes.

But yeah, overall, business is good.

-----

It’s a rather slow day in Cauldron Blends when Kiyoko, a good witch and valuable patron, comes in with someone else other than her cute apprentice, Yachi. Instead of the usual chirpy voice that he uses to greet them, his breath got suspended in his lungs instead.

Because holy mother of mixing potions, the guy is probably the most handsome one he’d seen (since himself, but that doesn’t really count. He’s not that narcissistic as Iwa-chan claims him to be, thank you very much.)

The guy has an otherworldly silver hair that reflects the lights in all the good ways. A slim, angelic face and wide eyes that he’s yet to catch the color of. Oikawa watches as the guy looks around the coffee shop, and he feels like preening when a nod and a small impressed smile shows on the handsome face.

He’s so entranced by Mr. Refreshing that he doesn’t notice Kiyoko until she’s right in front of him, blocking the view.

“Oikawa-san?”

In his surprise, he accidentally swipes at the glasses by the counter- the ones he use to give the complimentary brew and one of them topples over and falls. Oikawa had been a second too late to catch it, and he almost gives it a lost cause, when instead of crashing into broken pieces on the floor, it magically stays suspended, a hairsbreadth away from its certain doom. He glances at Kiyoko and her outstretched hands, before he bends down to grab it and deposit it back into the safety of the counter.

“Thank you very much for that, Kiyoko-chan. Though that seemed very instinctual.”

“I guess you could say that. Yachi used to drop vials a lot when she gets flustered, and it has become second nature to not let them break,” Kiyoko explains mildly. “May I?” She motions at the glasses.

“Oh? The trek finally got to you, huh?”

Kiyoko’s lips quirked on one side. “It’s not for me, it’s for my companion.”

“Oh,” Oikawa swallows as Kiyoko’s companion finally steps up beside her, close enough for him to notice the light brown eyes and beauty mark under the left one.

“By the way, Oikawa-san, this is Sugawara. Sugawara-kun, this is Oikawa-san. He’s the owner of this coffee shop and the young potions master everyone’s been talking about.”

“Oh, Kiyoko-chan, you flatter me.” No really she is. She doesn’t usually say things like that to him, much less other people. It itched Oikawa to check his reflection on a nearby surface just to see if his hair is still glorious or if there isn’t anything on his face even though the praises she just sang didn’t have anything to do with his looks.

But anyway…“It’s nice to meet you, Suga-chan. Here you go,” he says, smiling at Sugawara as he slides the glass towards him.

Sugawara blinks at him, probably taken aback by the nickname. It soon passes as he gives Oikawa a polite smile. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you too, Oikawa-san. And thank you.”

He gets the glass and takes a tentative sip. Oikawa lights up in delight, when Sugawara’s expression turned to that of pleasantly surprised.

“This is really good!” It looks a lot like infused water, but of course, it’s more magical than it lets on. It’s one of the few mixtures Oikawa’s laced with a spell.

He gives Sugawara a blinding smile. “I’m glad you find it just as refreshing.”

Sugawara gives him a confused look, which he just dismisses with another smile.

“Anyway, I assume you’re here for business, Kiyoko-chan.” He readily holds out his hand and Kiyoko surely placed a rolled parchment.

“It’s not that urgent, so you don’t have to look at it now.” Oikawa nods, then puts it inside the drawer, making a mental note to retrieve it later.

“Does that mean you’ll stay longer then?” Kiyoko usually just drops off her order, and they usually make arrangements as to when it could possibly be done, but she never stays long enough to have a snack or drink.

Which doesn’t seem to be the case this time.

“Yes. Sugawara-kun and I are hoping to catch up. This seems like the perfect place for that.” Oikawa beams widely, ringing them up with the shops best seller in both the cakes and drinks front, assuring it will be with them soon, so they find a comfortable place to sit.

Oikawa finds himself humming as he plates the slices of cakes. And if he had put more whip cream on Suga-chan’s drink, he’s sure that Kiyoko wouldn’t mind and wouldn’t comment. She does give him a knowing look when he delivers it to their table, smiling widely at Sugawara as he placed the drink and cake in front of him.

Needless to say, Oikawa is glad for the slow day, because it gave him an excuse to keep watching the beautiful, new customer.

#haikyuu!!#oisuga weekend #oisuga #oikawa tooru #sugawara koushi #hq fanfic

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grandmascottlang · 7 years ago

Text

A Princess for Christmas (Tom Holland X Reader Royalty! AU)

Hi guys! Merry Christmas Eve! This is my Secret Santa present for @spiderboytotherescue ! I hope that you like this! I gave Tom the same title that Prince William has. (I was going to make this similar to the Hallmark movie, but I just thought, ‘Screw this!’)

MASTERLIST

Summary: [Name] meets Tom in a coffee shop in London. Little does she know that he’s the crown prince.

Warnings: A lot of fluff

Words: 2.1k

It was [Name]’s first time visiting London. She wanted to go visit everything that the city, England, and Europe as a whole had to offer!

While she was in London, she had to try English Breakfast Tea. The concept of putting milk in her tea was such a foreign concept and she wanted to try to understand it.

Once she ordered her drink, she sat down at one of the booths in the coffee shop and pulled out her favorite book. She flipped to where she left off in the book and began to read again.

After receiving her drink, the bell on the door sounded, alerting the girl that someone had just opened the door. Normally, she wouldn’t look up if she was in the States, but since she was in a foreign country, she decided to take a quick glance. Man, [Name] was not disappointed in her quick decision.

A young man with soft, brown curls had just walked into the small coffee shop. He had a confident aura to him; his walk was sure and strong. He wore simple clothes: a black t-shirt under an unzipped leather jacket, a pair of blue jeans, and black Chuck Taylors.

Needless to say, at a first glance, [Name] was captured by his appearance.

He walked up to the barista, smiling. “Hey.”

“Oh my god, his voice,” [Name] thought, her book being slowly forgotten as she stared at the mysterious man. Her chin began to lean into her hand, allowing her to get a bit of a closer look at him.

After he got his order, he turned on his heels with the intent to leave, but his eyes were caught on the beautiful woman staring at him. He stopped mid-turn before heading over to her booth.

When [Name] finally realized that the man she was staring at was walking toward her, her elbow slid off of the table and she quickly tried to compose herself.

“Hello, darling. Is it okay if I sit here?” he questioned her, gesturing to the seat in front of her.

[Name] was speechless at first and began looking for the words. “Uh huh,” she muttered while nodding furiously. She mentally face-palmed herself at her inability to say the word ‘sure’ in that moment.

He smiled and sat down, placing his drink on the table. “What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“I’m [Name],” she said as she finally gained her composure. She held her hand out for him to shake. “I’m from the States, just visiting. Yours?”

He took her hand, giving her a brief shake. “Tom. Well, welcome to London, [Name]! I hope you enjoy it,” his face lit up at the mention of the city.

They broke the handshake. “I do so far! The only thing that kind of sucks is that almost all of the days I’ve been here, it’s been so gloomy.”

“That’s London in a sentence, darling.” Both shared a small giggle to Tom’s comment. “Is there a reason that you’re in London? If you don’t mind me asking, love.” A red hue tinted his cheeks after asking such a question only moments after meeting this beautiful girl from the States.

“Well, I wanted to see everything that Europe has to offer. The next place that I’m going to visit is Buckingham Palace.”

“Well, coincidentally, I’m heading there myself. Can I join you, love?

She almost spat out her coffee. “Uh, I’d love that.” She completely forgot about her book.

Tom quickly sent out a text message to the head of the Royal Guard, alerting him that he was coming back and to alert the Guard to not greet him upon his arrival back at the palace. He didn’t want [Name] to know who he was yet.

They walked to the palace, engaging in light conversation, learning basic things about the other. What’s your favorite color? Favorite book? Hobbies? Basic questions.

They went on a tour of the castle, and Tom had to bite his tongue to not correct the tour guide about basic facts. It sucked that his best friend, Harrison, was purposefully messing up facts to elicit a reaction from the prince. He made a note to take Harrison off of tour guide duty for the next year.

“I had a lot of fun today! Thank you for showing me around London, Tom! London has definitely been the best city I’ve visited in Europe!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Also, I had the best tour guide,” she said softly as her cheeks began to warm.

Tom’s cheeks turned bright red. “Well, I enjoyed spending time with you, love. Would you mind if I took you on a date? Maybe tomorrow?” he asked, more confidently than he truly was.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun! I’m looking forward to it,” she smiled brightly as she took a pen out of her purse and grabbed his arm. On the back of his hand, [Name] wrote her number down.

Tom’s cheeks reddened to an even darker shade at the contact.

[Name] smiled and waved at him as she walked inside of her hotel.

Tom grinned as he called Harrison to arrange him a ride back to the palace.

Thankfully, [Name] had packed a nice outfit when she was leaving. She didn’t think that on her trips that she’d ever met someone who made butterflies fly all around in her stomach. She smiled as she thought about Tom. She wondered what Tom would take her to do (since she wasn’t really familiar with the city yet).

Tom: Hey, be ready by six?

[Name]: You know it.

Tom had sent her cute texts throughout the day, making her smile grow and more eager to see Tom again.

Tom held the largest bouquet of flowers that he was able to get his hands on as he knocked on [Name]’s hotel room door. He wore a plain, designer, white button-up, black slacks, and black dress shoes.

When [Name] opened the door, his breath hitched. In the outfit she was wearing, she looked gorgeous. “Darling, you look absolutely stunning,” he spoke, handing her the flowers.

“These are my favorites! Thank you so much, Tom!” She walked out of the room to briefly hug him. She disappeared back into her hotel room, presumably to put the flowers away.

She quickly came back to the door. “Ready, love?”

[Name] had one of the best nights of her life with Tom. He took her to the next sight in London she wanted to see: the London Eye. They took a ride on it (unbeknownst to her, Tom had bought their tickets in advance so that they wouldn’t have to wait in the obnoxiously long line to buy the tickets) and looked at the city from a different perspective.

After riding the Eye, they went for a walk in Hyde Park. It was gorgeous.

And as a surprise, they went to one of the fanciest restaurants in the city: The Ledbury. The food was phenomenal. (“Tom, how did you get us in here? This place was literally made for people who are made of money.” “I know the owner, love.”)

He had walked her back to her hotel room and at the door, he placed his lips upon hers, leaving a soft, sweet kiss between them.

It really was a magical night.

[Name] ended up going on three more dates with Tom before Tom had asked if she wanted to be his girlfriend and obviously, she said yes. She left to go see the rest of Europe soon after, but she promised she’d be back soon.

She texted and FaceTimed Tom every day over the next two months. She on the most recent FaceTime call, she told him that she was coming back to London for a few months because she was ‘extending’ her trip. Tom laughed and told her that he was so excited.

When [Name] arrived at the London City Airport, she was surprised to see so many people gathered around one person.

‘I wonder if it’s someone famous,’ [Name] thought before she saw the sign that the person surrounded by many people and what it read.

WELCOME BACK, [NAME]! it read in all caps. She saw Tom with four bodyguards and in his royal attire.

(This is Tom’s royal attire.)

“Oh. My. God.” [Name] almost fainted from the surprise of it all. She was dating the crown prince of England, Prince Thomas Stanley Holland, Duke of Cambridge.

Now it all made sense. How they were able to get to exclusive places… Do things in only five minutes where they would normally have to stand in a line for hours…

“I’m dating a prince,” she whispered.

“[Name], love! Tom waved as he broke away from all of the people surrounding him. “I told you I was going to pick you up.”

“You also told me you had a surprise. Well, color me surprised,” she whispered, barely able to think, much less form sentences.

“I had to tell you at some point. I thought that now would be a great time!” he pointed out, running his hands up and down her arms, trying to calm her.

“I’m in love with a prince…”

“Love you too, darling.” He chuckled, leaving a small kiss on the corner of her cheek.

[Name] eventually got over the shock that Tom was a prince. Had he not done the whole ‘Airport Operation,’ she would’ve never guessed it.

There was no doubt that the couple was meant to be. They loved each other deeply.

After about six months of dating, Tom introduced [Name] to the royal family (the entire royal family was almost more in love with [Name] than Tom was). [Name] had never been more nervous to meet a group of people though.

At the seven-month mark of dating, [Name] decided that she needed to go back home. Of course, Tom was extremely supportive, but he didn’t want to be separated again. He asked if he could go with her back to her hometown.

“What a stupid question. You know that I’d say yes,” she joked, a smirk on her face.

It was Christmas time. [Name] and Tom had been living together in her apartment for almost a whole year. Even though Tom had to go back home regularly to go do ‘prince-y things’ as [Name] called them, they were together twenty-four-seven.

The became a tame couple, going on dates every week, sending cute texts messages, and this season, decorating the apartment.

“Love, I’ve never had to put up a tree. How do you do this?”

[Name] had one of the fake Christmas trees that was in about a hundred individual pieces and Tom was so confused.

“Here, I’ll show you.”

It took an hour to put up the tree. The couple ended up having a sword fight with the tree branches and became really distracted.

They both became extremely tired and laid on the floor, [Name]’s head resting on Tom’s stomach, his fingers running through her hair.

“Tom?”

“Love?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

Christmas finally came. The couple decided to stay in [Name]’s apartment for the holiday since her parents live in a different state. They were sitting right next to each other on the couch.

As they were exchanging gifts, Tom’s face changed from happiness to nervousness.

“Tom? Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at him concerned.

“Yes, love. I’m just… thinking…” he justified, suspiciously.

“You—you’re not breaking up with me, right?” she said, lightly joking (but entirely serious at the same time).

“I would never! I love you so much, [Name]!” he began. He took both of her hands in his and rubbed soft circles onto the backs of them.

He shifted a bit on the couch so he could get a better look at her. “I’ve never loved someone as much as I love you, [Name]. You are perfect for me, you complete me. I love being with you, hearing about how much you hate English tea, which by the way, is the best tea, love!” he laughed, then continued, “I could go on forever about how much I love you, how brilliant you are, and how much I love what you do, darling, but I’d rather show you. [First Name] [Middle Name] [Last Name],” he said as he got off of the couch and onto one knee, “will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he asked her as held out a black velvet ring box, containing the most gorgeous engagement ring ever created.

[Name]'s eyes were filled with tears. “Of course, Tom! Yes, my prince!” she cried as she pulled him into a hug. “I love you so much,” she cried into his shoulder, giving his hair a soft kiss.

“I love you too, darling.”

She looked back up at him as he put the ring on the fourth finger on her left hand. “I guess this makes me a Princess,” she giggled, a large smile littering her face.

“A Princess for Christmas, love.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #marvel #spider-man: homecoming #tom holland fanfiction #secret santa #secrethollandsantas #tom holland imagine #i love tom holland

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derangedsanity · 7 years ago

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Wedding Date -- Chapter One

Title: Wedding Date Pairing: Bughead (sidelined Cheronica) Warnings: None for this chapter. Story Summary: Betty Cooper is doing well at everything else in her life- first year in NYU, Aspiring writer, etc- but one thing she never could get was a boyfriend. Her family hasn’t been able to deal with that ever since she moved away to New York a year before college. Especially her nagging mother who is all about wanting ‘what’s right’ for her daughter. When she gets an invitation to her sister- Polly’s- wedding she immediately knows what will happen if she doesn’t bring a guy. When she sees an ad on craigslist for exactly what she needs, she calls the owner of the ad, Jughead Jones. A/N: I’m really excited to write this series. This will be a slow-ish burn fic and will be extremely AU. I hope y’all enjoy. Any and all feedback/comments are greatly appreciated! Special thanks to @vegaslodge for double checking this for me. 💕

“I just don’t want you to be alone your whole life, Elizabeth. I want what’s best and what’s right for you.” Betty knows better than to argue. She’s heard it all before. Not only from her mother but from her sister, her roommate Veronica, and the bitch that lives down the hall from her in the apartment she lives in, Cheryl. Instead, she forces a stiff smile, even though she knows her mother can’t see her. It’s become a habit, “I understand, mom.” She always says the same thing in reply. There’s a long pause on the other line and then a very long sigh- there always is. “You should be getting something in the mail from your sister very soon.” This intrigues Betty. She hasn’t heard from her sister in a few months so why would she want to send her something in the mail, of all things? “Why are you telling me?” It’s the next question that comes straight to her lips from her always active mind. Some things she can control from slipping past her lips, but other things not so much. “Because for all I know you don’t even check your mail. Obviously you don’t go out too much or you would have found yourself a boyfriend by now.” “Oh, my god, mom!” Betty groans into the palm of her hand, trying not to yell at her. “I need to go.” She quickly pulls the phone from her ear and hangs up. Sometimes her mother is just too much to handle. The thing that was supposedly coming ‘very soon’ comes three weeks later and Betty is actually surprised. She had expected it never to come, thinking that maybe it had gotten lost in the other mail. She takes it upstairs and considers stalling opening it. By the fancy decorations on the envelope alone, it scares her. She tosses it onto the desk she uses to study on in her bedroom then pauses right before she walks out of her room, turns back around and picks the envelope up again. Examining it more closely this time. Eventually, she gets tired of just staring at the damn thing and rips it open from the top. She pulls out a very pink piece of paper that is folded in half- clearly handmade- and reads it carefully. You are invited to the wedding of Jason Blossom and Polly Cooper!! Betty had to take a second glance and couldn’t help but scoff at the addition of not one but two exclamation marks behind the opening sentence. Then it hit her. Holy shit, Polly was getting married. Then another thing hit her. She couldn’t show up there alone. But of course she couldn’t miss this. No matter how many unpopular opinions she had about Jason. Right before she could panic Veronica walked through the door with her usual cheery self. “I finally met that neighbor of ours that you are constantly dissing.” Veronica began, placing her designer bag on the floor by the door. “She isn’t even close to how bad you have been letting on. Plus, she’s kind of cute.” “Veronica, no.” Betty gave her a warning glance. Veronica, as amazing and as sweet as she was, had the habit of falling for every girl she met. Ronnie put her hands up as if to surrender, “Hey, I’m just telling you the truth.” Betty rolled her eyes and looked back at the invitation in her hands, finally getting the chance to panic as she remembered just exactly what she was holding. “What’s that?” Betty looked back up at her roommate and shrugged, trying to play it cool. “My sister is getting married.” “Holy shit, really? To that Jason guy? She could do so much better.” That’s one of the many things they could agree on. “Yeah...I’ve been invited to the wedding.” She spoke so distantly but she couldn’t help it. She was so worried about all the wrong things that could happen there. She couldn’t fight with any of them, not at Polly’s wedding. “Well, duh. It’d be really shitty if you weren’t invited to your own sister’s wedding.” Veronica walked over to the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk, drinking it exactly like that. When Betty had first met Veronica she hadn’t expected her to be so...messy. She was dressed in expensive clothing, and looked very clean when they first met at a coffee shop. As soon as she agreed to be her roommate, however, things changed. She didn’t clean up after herself at all and basically never left the room unless she had class or had met some cute girl she wanted to take out. But one of the better things about Veronica was she was the best friend Betty could ever ask for. So she could easily look over the messy parts of Veronica after awhile. “What am I supposed to do, though, V? I can’t show up without a date. My family will freak.” She finally found it in herself to put the invitation back down. Veronica wiped the milk off of her face and smirked. “What about me?” “Bring a girlfriend to my sister’s wedding, where my homophobic grandmother and parents will be? I appreciate it, Ronnie but I can’t do that. I’m trying to avoid getting into an argument with them.” Veronica scoffed in annoyance, closing the fridge. “No offense, Betty, but your family sound like dickheads.” Betty couldn’t help but smile at that. “As for finding yourself a date? Just look online.” “You say that like it’s easy.” “It is. Just look on craigslist.” Veronica took her jacket off and tossed it on the small couch, walking into her room. What the fuck was she going to find on craigslist? ~~ After Betty got out of the shower that night, she decided to just take Veronica’s very odd suggestion and look on craigslist for a date to Polly’s wedding. It wasn’t long before she found it. Need a date to a wedding or event? Call me! There was a number listed underneath along with a very odd name. Jughead Jones. Desperate times call for desperate measures. She looked over the name and dialed the number, listening to it ring only a couple of times before a voice answered with an annoyed “Hello?” “Uh...yeah, are you Jughead by any chance?” The name sounded even weirder coming from her own lips. “Depends on who’s asking.” She could already tell this boy was going to joke a lot. “I saw your ad on craigslist.” Betty decided it would be easier to just cut to the chase. She wasn’t here to joke around, she was here for some much needed help. “Oh, yeah! I almost forgot I put that up.” He chuckled absentmindedly. Betty waited a few moments, expecting him to say something else. But when he didn’t she became very annoyed. “Yeah, well, you did and I have a few questions.” Betty sat down on her bed, crossing her legs and twisting her fingers into her bed sheets as she waited anxiously for a reply from Jughead. “Shoot.” His voice sounded stuffed, like he was stuffing tons of food into his mouth as he spoke. It almost made her cringe. “How much are you asking and how does the payment work, first of all.” “That’s a good question.” “Are you telling me you didn’t think about it before you put the ad up or?” She was beginning to regret making this phone call with her whole heart right about now. “Huh. I guess I didn’t...how much are you willing to offer?” She paused. “I don’t know.” “Are you telling me you didn’t think about that before you made the call or?” That smug bastard. “You know what? Never mind. Act like I didn’t call.” She hung the phone up, rolling her eyes so far back into her head. What an idiot. It wasn’t even two seconds before her phone began to ring. Without thinking about checking who was calling, she answered. “Hello?” “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Did this Jughead guy really just call her back? “What?” “I should have thought about that before I even posted the stupid thing. My bad.” “Yeah, that is your bad. I really didn’t appreciate you mocking me, though.” She squared her shoulders and tilted her head closer to the phone. “Sorry about that too, I guess.” Betty scoffed. “You guess?” Jughead breathed out a chuckle. “I am sorry.” “Okay then. Now can we talk about this professionally? I really need your help right now.” “Your wish is my command.” Betty once again found herself rolling her eyes but forced herself to continue talking to him. Desperate times call for desperate measures, she reminded herself. It took them almost half an hour to decide on a price together. It wasn’t cheap but it wasn’t exactly expensive either. 2,000 dollars by the end of their arrangement. She had that. She had been saving ever since she moved here. They had also agreed to meet up at a local diner to discuss things more in depth tomorrow. ~~ Betty had been here a few times with Veronica. It was a nice diner but it was nothing like the diner back in Riverdale, Pop’s. This was Marie’s diner and it always smelled like something but it definitely wasn’t food. But the milkshakes and the french fries were the best here and that was exactly what she ordered while she waited nervously for Jughead to walk through the door. He had sent her a selfie- a quite immature one- so that she knew what she would be looking for. He had a very weird hat on in the picture and his smile was a little less than attractive in it but luckily she wasn’t looking to be attracted to him. She had been at Marie’s for a little over five minutes when the man in the picture walked through the door. He still had the beanie he had been wearing in the picture on and was wearing a jean jacket over a shirt with a big ‘S’ on it. A single curl stuck out from underneath the beanie. When Jughead looked in her direction he clearly didn’t see her. Apparently he hadn’t paid too much attention to the picture she had sent him. She waved her hand in the air and he paused when he saw her. She quirked a brow at him to let him know she wasn’t going to be patient with him. He began walking towards her at that and took a seat right next to her instead of sitting in the booth across from her. He smelled like onions and pinewood, a very odd mixture of scents. She wondered what caused him to smell like that. “There’s an empty booth over there, you know?” Betty gestured to the booth across from her, wondering if he had even seen it. He barely glanced at it and nodded. “Yeah, I guess there is.” “Would you like to sit there?” Betty tossed the french fry she was holding back into the basket, suddenly too annoyed to eat anything. He shrugged. “I’m fine here.” This time, he smirked. It was a little more attractive than his freaky smile and she wondered if he had meant to send her a freaky selfie on purpose. Did he think this was some sort of game? “Fine, whatever. Are we going to talk about why we’re here in the first place or not?” She just wanted to get out of here, away from him and not have to see him until the wedding. “Whoa, wait a second.” He held up a hand and stood up. “Let me order something first and then we’ll talk.” Betty couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She opened her mouth to object but he was already walking away. She could already hear her mother at the wedding now, “Well he is quite....charming.” Maybe all of this was a bad idea. What if he fucked this all up? She needed this to be as believable as possible if she wanted to make it out of their alive. When he finally returned, he had a gigantic burger on a tray and a medium soda. How could someone so small eat something that big? “Okay.” He sat back down next to her. “Now I’m ready.” They talked about the basics, about the needs that he needed to fulfill if he wanted to get paid. But it wasn’t until Betty got to talking that she realized what had happened at her brother’s wedding. “Oh shit.” Betty groaned and face-palmed so hard she made her face hurt. By now, Jughead was just finishing his soda up. His burger already finished. “What?” “How could I have forgotten this?” Because Polly’s was the first wedding in her family in a long time, she reminded herself. “Forgotten what?” He seemed so insincere with the question it just pissed Betty off even more. But she decided to ignore her anger. For now. She had bigger problems anyway. “My family is very obsessed with family.” God, she didn’t even want to think or talk about this. “At my brother’s wedding a few years ago my family had the whole family stay at our house the whole week. Including me. So, it would only be natural that-” “I stayed with you.” He nodded, obviously trying to take it all in. “Okay. How bad could your family be, right?” She wanted to tell him that he had no idea, but she stopped herself. She needed him to come to this wedding and the last thing she wanted to do was scare him off. She needed him. Elizabeth Cooper, queen of fake smiles, pulled off her best fake smile yet. “Right. They’re actually really sweet. I think you’ll like them a lot.”

#bughead #bughead au #riverdale #riverdale au #jetty #jetty au #jughead x betty #betty x jughead #madi writes

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plenoptic07 · 7 years ago

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The first rough little chunk of a modern AU Volpelli to tide @kitmarlowes through a shitty day~ ft. cute Jewish bookstore owner Gil

((please no reblogs))

Nic missed his bus.

Not by much, he figured, not that it mattered—whether he missed it by five minutes or five seconds, he missed it all the same. He’d been up all night going over polling numbers, reading news coverage, trying to find an angle that would salvage this nightmare of a campaign, and fallen asleep at his desk. He’d woken up and looked at his watch to find that he had about forty-five seconds to catch the bus.

But it was gone by the time he’d hurried into the street, wearing the same clothes he’d fallen asleep in. He knew it wasn’t just running late because the usual crowd of commuters was no longer at the stop. Which meant that it had showed up exactly on time for the first time since its new regular driver, a punk-ass eighteen year old everyone called Salai, had been hired. Salai was a vain idiot—he was brilliant, actually, having gone to university for art three years ahead of his classmates and graduating in record time, but he acted like an idiot—and should have been fired within his first week of work, but he spoke Italian, and Little Italy had been flooded with immigrants the last few months, mostly older folks finally coming to join their families. There weren’t many Italian-speaking people prepared to spend their entire day driving the city bus back and forth through crowded streets, and there had been an unfortunate rash of helpless non-English speakers being dumped off at odd points across New York when Salai took a few days off, so the kid stayed.

And he chose today, of all days, to actually make it to the stop on time.

Nic stood at the stop, clothes rumpled, messenger bag over his shoulder. He needed a coat; a light drizzle fell from the grey clouds overhead, soaking his head and shoulders, leaving puddles around his shoes. He thought about calling Biagio and dismissed the idea as soon as it came. Biagio was as dirt-poor as he was; the fool biked six miles to and from work every day. He’d be pedaling through the morning traffic right now, earbuds jammed in tight, his dark curls growing heavy in the rain, but he wouldn’t mind. Biagio looked good a little disheveled. At least, girls thought he did, and opinions that didn’t come out of a woman’s mouth just didn’t mean that much to Biagio.

Any other day, he might have called Agostino, who drove an ancient Mustang he’d purchased for about two grand four years ago; every year he sunk all of his spare cash into maintaining the thing. But Auggie was in Jersey for a conference. No dice.

Marietta had a car, but the thought of calling his ex-wife and asking for a ride—of meeting her on the curb and opening the door of her sleek black sportscar and seeing her nose wrinkle when he defiled her perfect leather seats with his wet ass—made him unironically want to die. Definitely not.

Damn, he hated being broke.

The next bus was due to show in the next forty-five minutes. Slowly, shuffling through the puddles, Nic turned and went back into his apartment. It was a one-room studio, nothing he was particularly proud to call home, but it was home nonetheless. There wasn’t enough wall space for bookshelves; he’d crammed in five and then had to settle for stacking up his books on the floor, somewhat haphazardly arranged by fiction/non-fiction, then genre, then author. He weaved around them on his way to the closet. His closet, he realized, absolutely stank of thirty-something-divorcee couture. If single guy couture was sports coats and Oxfords and married guy couture was sweater vests, he was right in the middle. He opted for slacks and a sweater and found dry shoes in the back of the closet. They didn’t have gel insoles, which sucked, because he had brutally high arches and his dogs would be barking by the end of the day.

His dogs would be barking? Christ, he was becoming his dad.

With nothing to do but kill time, he put on a pot of coffee, brushed out his hair (alarmed, as always, by its slow but steady retreat away from his temples, and by the greys that occasionally made an appearance on his jawline), scrubbed the taste of morning from his teeth. He shot an appropriately apologetic text to Farha. Though kind, having her schedule disrupted brought out a beast in her, and having the man in charge of her campaign show up to work over an hour late was sure to set her off. Nic said a silent apology for the aides who would be caught up in her hurricane.

He brought the mail in, braving the rain with a coat this time. Bills, bills, bills, unsurprisingly. He tossed them onto the already substantial stack on the counter. He kept telling himself he would get to them and then, well, not getting to them, like every other functioning adult in America. Postcard from his father, who lived upstate a little ways and for some reason felt compelled to send postcards despite not travelling much further than two miles from his house to visit the barber and go to church on Sundays. He’d become very quiet since Mama died, not like himself. Nic and his sister Margherita were still trying to convince himself to move down to Little Italy, where they could keep an eye on him, keep him company.

“Bah,” Bernardo would say, waving a hand. “If I wanted to live with Italians, I’d have stayed in Florence.”

They compromised by taking turns driving up to see the old man every other weekend. Totto was up for this Friday, but soon he’d be out of the rotation. He was in school for a PhD in theology and didn’t really have the time to spare. Nic wasn’t looking forward to taking increased bus rides upstate. Maybe he’d bribe Margherita into going more often—or maybe Marietta would be willing to take the kiddo up every once and a while.

Speaking of. He had an envelope from his ex-wife, containing an alimony check that he dropped directly into the garbage, and no less than seven illustrations done in crayon, which he put up on the fridge alongside about fifty others. As per usual, he couldn’t make out what they were illustrations of, but Primerana’s color theory was developing, at least. She was beginning to pair warm and cool colors for contrast. Nic thought that must be pretty sophisticated for a four-year-old. He stood and stared at her colorings for a few minutes, missing the absolute hell out of her. He was always counting down the days until he’d see her again. He was presently six away; she’d just been with him this weekend.

At five to nine, he stood outside in the rain once more, holding his travel mug full of black coffee, and caught the bus.

/ page break

Because it was already a Monday and he missed his kid and God apparently hated him, the bus broke down four miles from the office. Every other city bus was immersed in New York traffic.

“Take the subway,” the not-quite apologetic bus driver suggested to his marooned passengers.

Nic wanted to throttle him. What madman would be taking the bus if they were in any way able to take the subway? He did consider it, particularly given that the rain was still beating its determined drum upon his skull, but the thought of descending the concrete stairs into that cool subterranean labyrinth made his hair stand on end. Damn poverty and damn claustrophobia, they were making his life absolute hell.

He shot off another text to Farha, well-aware that his explanations were starting to sound like excuses. He sent her a picture of the bus’s steaming hood, as proof. She responded with a series of emojis that he couldn’t for the life of him decipher. The next senator of the state of New York, he thought, and smiled to himself. Provided, of course, that her campaign manager ever made it into work.

With no other options—no money for a cab, and not a Lyft in sight, not that he could afford that either—Nic started walking. His shoes soaked through in a matter of minutes; he was immensely grateful for his coat, which slicked off most of the rain. He’d lost the hood in a tussle with a mugger three months ago, and cold water dripped down the back of his neck. He hunched his shoulders and weaved through the foot traffic, zoning out to the endless drone of rough New Yorker voices, cell phones jingling, cars whizzing past and spraying water across his legs.

He got an amused but sympathetic text from Biagio, who had also been sending out incessant Snapchat updates of his own bedraggled but handsomely grinning face for the last five minutes. He was recording Farha’s Morning Meltdown, as he called it. For posterity, of course. There would come a day when America would be curious to see the visual history of its future president, Farha Fareed, who needed six times as many clips as any other woman to keep her hijab in place once she really got going. Nic and Biagio really did love the hell out of her, but she was driving them both into an early grave.

Loud swearing jarred him from his digital escape. A truck was parked haphazardly on the side of the road ahead of him, one of its back wheels on the sidewalk. A man was struggling to hoist a box out of the back; the downpour had soaked it, and it bulged visibly on one side, threatening to spill its contents. As Nic approached, it gave, and hardback novels poured onto the sidewalk. The man began swearing again with a fervor.

Nic quickened his pace, bending down to grab up an armload of books while the man struggled to juggle the weight of the box onto his hip. “I got it,” he said quickly, rounding his shoulders to keep the books covered from the rain.

“Thanks,” the man panted—Nic couldn’t see him around the massive box. “Right in here—”

With the truck driver watching them sullenly through the rearview mirror, Nic followed the man into a shop; it took both of them to jimmy the door open with their arms full. Nic shuffled inside and lowered the books onto the first clean patch of floor he found, straightening up and rubbing his lower back with a wince. He looked around. He was standing in a small bookshop; each wall was lined floor to ceiling with books, new and old alike. A plastic table nearby bowed under the weight of its DISCOUNT!! mystery thrillers. A corkboard was prominently mounted on the wall by the door, bearing at least two dozen brightly colored flyers advertising reading groups, yard sales, local concerts, and bikes for sale. Nic took a number off one of those before turning to look at the man he’d helped.

“Are there more?”

“Nope—last one,” the man—the shop’s manager or owner, Nic presumed—said from behind the front counter. The truck driver shouted something at them from the curb before starting his truck and trundling away. The bookstore owner raised a middle finger at the window without looking up from the binder he was scribbling in.

Nic approached the counter cautiously. The owner was dark, almost gloriously so. Skin like burnished bronze, curls of hair so black they were nearly brown. Great hands—large hands, Nic noted, with a sort of swooping heat in the pit of his stomach. The guy was around his height, maybe an inch or so shorter, but with muscle packed in ways that Nic—who didn’t even know where he might locate a gym in his neighborhood, let alone attend one—genuinely envied. He wore a knit cap at the crown of his head, which flattened some of his curls. Nic cast his mind around for the word for it—a religious thing, he was pretty sure. As he floundered, the guy looked up. Oh, Christ, of course his eyes would be brown too, rich and dark, like fresh soil after a heavy rain.

“Any of them wrecked?”

“What?” Nic said dumbly, stupefied by the fierce angles of this stranger’s jaw, the furrow of his dark brows. He wasn’t precisely an Adonis—he probably hadn’t been too good-looking until he got older, much as Nic had.

“The books—the ones that fell onto the sidewalk. Are they okay?”

“Oh. Oh. Yeah. Um. Wait.” Nic turned and headed back to the books he’d abandoned on the floor. He lifted them onto a mostly-empty table, pushing aside several treatises on Plato’s Republic, and checked them over one by one. “Two—three with water damage on the covers. Pages seem okay.”

“Good.” The guy walked over, stepping around Nic to collect the injured survivors. “I’m Gil,” he said, tucking the books under one arm and sticking out the other hand. Nic shook.

“Nic. I presume you own this place?”

“You presume correctly,” Gil said, and smiled. God dammit. He would have a great smile, slightly lopsided, open and easy. “Owner, manager, and employee.”

Nic looked at the front window. It took him a moment to puzzle it out, because he was looking at the letters backwards, but he read La Volpe’s in painted script. The subheading beneath it read Bo ks nd Cur os.

“Books and Curios,” Gil said, a little abashedly. “Couple of shit-head kids vandalized it a few weeks back. Haven’t quite gotten around to repainting.”

“La Volpe,” Nic mused. “The fox. Are you Italian?”

“Half. Dad was from Florence. Ma was a Sephardic Jew.”

“Oh, it’s Jewish,” Nic blurted, and immediately felt his cheeks turn scarlet. Gil arched an eyebrow. “Sorry. I was trying to remember about your—uh—my brain is saying ‘skullcap,’ but that seems wrong.”

Gil’s face relaxed, and he laughed, a warm, lifting sound. Nic’s stomach fluttered. He was having what Biagio might call a ‘distinctly bisexual’ moment. “Skullcap will do in a pinch. I call it a kippah. I believe Adam Sandler has popularized yarmulke vis-a-vis a rather charming SNL skit.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Nope. Depends on whether you prefer Hebrew or Yiddish. I opt for Hebrew in my ongoing effort to resist a culture of increasing Ashkencentricism.”

“Uh,” Nic responded. Gil grinned.

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks for your help back there.”

“Oh. Of course. I could hardly stand by and watch innocent books suffer.”

Gil chuckled. “Man after my own heart. You’re Italian too, I take it?”

“Florentine. My folks came over here after the war.”

Gil hummed, a low, sympathetic sound. “The war” hung like a cloud in Little Italy. Nic glanced at Gil’s kippah and felt a bizarre, curdling sense of shame, of downright guilt, burning the lining of his stomach. He was overcome with the need to make excuses, to apologize. He looked down at his feet instead.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Gil asked suddenly.

“You don’t have to stay with the shop?”

“I mean, as busy as I am,” Gil chuckled, gesturing around the entirely empty store, “I think I can take a few minutes to thank you for giving me a hand back there.”

“I would, I just—I’m heinously late for work today.”

“Fair enough.” Gil gave him a quick up-and-down, probably just surveying the state of his clothes, but Nic caught himself hoping it was also a little something more. “Then, any chance you’re in need of a ride?”

“I couldn’t ask you to—”

“No need. I’m offering.” Gil pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and smiled. “Come on. Coffee on the way?”

Nic hesitated, something between pride and courtesy telling him to reject the offer, but—damn, he did not want to keep walking in that rain. “Okay,” he said, a little reluctantly. “If it’s really alright for you to be gone.”

“If you’re that worried about my business, maybe you can swing by after work and grab a book or two,” Gil said, and winked.

Nic was sure it was entirely benign—probably not even real flirting—and it was cheesy as all hell to boot—but his stomach did a flip, nonetheless.

/ page breaks

Nic had approximately two regrets in life. The first was not spending enough time with his mother when she was still alive. The second was getting into the car with hands-down the worst driver he had ever had the deep misfortune of sharing vehicular space with.

“You alright?” Gil asked for perhaps the fortieth time.

Nic, jaw clenched shut, nodded. He sat ramrod-straight in the passenger seat of Gil’s truly-a-piece-of-shit Honda, one fist balled on top of his thigh, the other hand wrapped tight around the oh-shit handle above his door. Gil took a hair-rising right turn on a red light, cutting off someone oncoming, and apparently didn’t hear them leaning on their horn. Nic swayed in his seat and the handle abruptly popped off the ceiling. He sat holding it in his hand, dumbfounded.

“Oh, yeah, that’s been broken for months. Keep trying to glue it back on,” Gil said cheerfully. He leaned alarmingly across the center console and plucked it from Nic’s hand, tossing it into the back seat. “So you’re in politics, huh? Must be exciting.”

“I suppose,” Nic said through gritted teeth. Gil slammed on his brakes, and his car screeched to a halt mere inches from the next driver’s bumper. Nic saw her watching them nervously through her rear-view mirror. “We’re in the middle of a campaign for the Senate.”

“No shit! Who’s the candidate?”

“Farha Fareed.”

“No shit. I think she’s a boss. She was great serving on city council a few years back. What’s she been up to since?”

“Serving senate advisory boards, mostly. Filled an ambassadorship in the Middle East for—” Nic paused to stamp the non-existent brake on his side of the car. Gil braked several horrifying seconds later. “For a few months.”

“I hope you win. We need more people like her in government, you know? Not just minority people, but like…” Gil tapped a fingertip to his temple and executed a lane change with his knee on the steering wheel while he reached for his coffee. Nic desperately fought the urge to reach across and grab the wheel. “You know? She’s sharp, but honest. That’s all a politician needs, in my opinion.”

Nic could have debated that for literally hours, but he settled for an agreeable hum. They could debate the nuances of good politics next time, when he wasn’t quite so afraid for his life. His smugly observant inner self noted his use of next time. He ignored it.

“Have you always worked in the local bookstore business?”

“Nah. Took it up after leaving my sordid life of crime,” Gil said, mock-serious. Nic rolled his eyes. “Had the store for about five years now. You a book guy? You seem like a book guy.”

“I am.”

“Whatcha reading these days?”

“Political autobiographies, mostly. For work. I don’t have a great deal of time for leisure reading lately.”

“You should make time,” Gil said, with a note of sternness. He let go of the wheel to rabbit-punch Nic’s upper arm with both fists, then seized it again and took a sharp turn. “Seriously. It’s not good for bookworms to go too long without reading for pleasure. Bad for the soul.”

“I don’t believe in souls,” Nic replied, and wanted to take it back at once. Stupid thing to say. Too existential for a first—not a date, he wouldn’t in a million years describe this as a date, but a first companionable hellish car ride.

“Yeah?” Gil said, without missing a beat. “I do.”

“Well, you’re Jewish.”

Gil cackled at that, nothing short of gleeful. “Right! I always forget about that part of the Torah. ‘And lo, if thou believest not in souls, know that thou art straight-up a bad Jew, lai lai lai, Amen.’”

“Okay, okay, sorry, I was talking out my ass,” Nic amended. “So do you believe in souls Jewishly? Is that possible?”

“It is Jewishly possible to believe in anything,” Gil said, with such cheerful conviction that Nic didn’t want to press him any further—he just wanted to sit for a moment with that clear, warm confidence.

As desperate as he had been to get out of the car not even minutes before, Nic was a little disappointed when they rolled up to the campaign office (Gil bumped the curb heartily and only barely managed to avoid the parking meter).

“Last stop,” he said. “Hey, I meant it earlier. It’d be nice if you stopped by the shop.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I like you,” Gil said, tone still light, and Nic blanched. “In, like, a gay way, you know.”

“What are you, sixteen?” Nic demanded, his cheeks burning, and swung his bag onto his shoulder. “Thank you for the ride. And the coffee.”

“Which you didn’t finish.”

“Because my stomach was roiling because your driving is abhorrent.”

Gil laughed, long and loud. “That’s fair. I hope you come by the shop later.”

“We’ll see,” Nic grumped, and shut the door. His stomach was roiling, but it wasn’t all down to Gil’s driving—he was already re-planning his route home, mapping a meandering path in his head that would take him past the bookstore.

#don't mind me #don't reblog

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 4 years ago

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TROPED: JATP MASTER LIST

And for our encore, the Master List of all 53 (fifty-three!?) fanfics written for our FIRST Julie and the Phantoms TROPED event!! It was such a treat for us to see how a new fandom took on our prompts! We, here at TROPED, love it when our authors push the limits of what a trope can be, and this fandom kept us on our toes, and we loved every word! We hope you enjoy these trope bending, phantastic fics as much as we did!

New rockstar writers joined us for the first time for this event, which is the coolest thing for us! We love getting to see how different fandoms interpret our prompts and how you see these stories through the lens of different characters. We learned a lot about how to run an event this round, with new voices helping us to make TROPED better, which was so exciting. We came out of this event with new ideas, and we’re pumped for what’s next! We hope you’ll join us again soon ;)!

*Some summaries have been edited for length. Tumblr has a max post length. Who knew!

ROUND 1: ANGST FICS

The Tropes:

Character discovers they’re not human

Coffee Shop AU

Poorly Timed Confession

Character A catches Character B crying

————

the sky was gray and white and (cloudy) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: “I’ve got you,” Willie’s whispering over and over, panic creeping into his voice. “Alex, I’ve got you, okay? Come on, baby, come on, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re gonna be okay, I love you–”

Alex spits out what feels like a clot of blood and gives Willie a tired grin, probably looking completely insane.

“That’s pretty gay of you,” he says, just as his vision clouds over and he passes out.

Honey, You’re Familiar (Like My Mirror Years Ago) (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Luke works at a coffee shop, which is normal, quietly pines after his coworker, which is normal, and also occasionally steals people’s faces without really meaning to.

It’s probably that last part that moves him pretty solidly out of the “normal” territory.

But that’s fine, that’s totally cool.

He’s handling it super well.

You Can’t Value People Less Than a Good, Hot Cup of Bean Juice (It Just Seems Rude) (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Julie gets a job at a coffee stand in the middle of nowhere.

It’ll help to pass the time, if nothing else.

And if there’s a cute guy who works the shift after her and sometimes leaves her ridiculously endearing messages on an ancient tape recorder?

Well, that’s just a bonus.

honest to god I’ll break your heart, tear you to pieces and rip you apart (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: the siren!Julie AU no one asked for

new instincts (Rated T) [Luke x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: Reggie is fine with being the only human member of his band, Julie and the Phantoms (tell your friends!), just like he’s fine with being the only single member. It doesn’t make him feel lonely, and he’s only picking up more shifts at the coffee shop because he needs more money, not because he’s avoiding being alone. And picking up more shifts at the coffee shop is making the work easier! He’s only a little confused by the fact that he can now touch the espresso machine mid shift without burning himself… must be all of the experience.

you look like you’ve just seen a monster (is that what i look like to you?) (Rated T) [Bobby x Alex x Luke x Reggie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: it’s angsty tiefling bobby time, folks!

We Are Monsters, We Are Proud (Rated G) [Flynn x Carrie, Julie x Luke] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Carrie finds herself at a college like no other in search of her dad and some answers. Julie’s not feeling good and maybe staring at roses wasn’t the best idea.

Monster College/Coffeeshop AU

sending forth their beautiful voice, and my heart was fain to listen (Rated G) [Julie x Carrie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Months after the death of her mom, Julie prepares to sing again and makes an upsetting discovery.

rise from the ashes (Rated M) [Alex x Willie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: At a time when everything was going wrong for Alex, the one bright spot in his life was the charming barista at the coffee shop he frequented. At least, it was the bright spot until everything went up in flames. All he could do was hope that they could rise from the ashes and figure things out together.

Siren’s Song (Rated T) [Ray x Rose] by hufflebibin

Summary: The Scopuli was never meant to be a permanent arrangement. Rose had taken the job straight out of school just looking to make a little extra money before the tour kicked off.

That was four years ago.

After a string of bad luck befalls Rose and the Petal Pushers, she can’t help but wonder if she is the problem. Or is there something more sinister at play?

Yellow (Rated T) [Julie & Reggie] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: Reggie just wanted to get some new guitar strings. A shapeshifter!Reggie au

Angels Like You (Rated T) [Luke x Reggie] by @sunsetcurveofficial

Summary: Reggie is having a bit of a weird day. It gets worse when he figures out that it’s because he died in his sleep and has somehow been walking around as a ghost without realising it. Meeting Luke helps. Luke says he’s a fellow ghost, and there is something about him that Reggie just feels drawn to. Falling for him is the easiest thing Reggie has ever done, but Luke is a little more than he lets on, and it turns out that their story actually started long before Reggie thought it did.

look into my eyes (it’s where my demons hide) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @fanfics-she-wrote

Summary: Hiding out from demons was never a desirable nightmare. Of course, Carrie would much prefer a run-for-my-life nightmare than actually running for her life. Having Flynn around is a very welcome soothing balm, though.

Bring All The Monsters Out To Play, Let All The Red Erase The Grey (Rated T) [Bobby & Reggie] by @kennysbirthday

Summary: Mythologicals, Reggie realised, were kind of like queer people. Sometimes your Token Human friend turns around one day and admits that actually, there was something they were suppressing all along, and they hadn’t realised.

–

Reggie’s final exam has been pushed forward at the most inconvenient time. Bobby is sick, Alex is missing, and now he needs to help a selkie get their ‘Happily-Ever-After’ in order to scrape a passing grade. Oh, and if his boss catches him handing out more free coffee, he’s gonna get fired.

————

ROUND 2: FLUFF FICS

The Tropes:

Exes

Time Loop AU

Camp Counselors

Prank Wars

————

Okay, Campers, Rise and Shine! (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: The Groundhog Day meets Gravity Falls meets Summer Camp meets The Author’s Own Distaste For Prank Wars AU that no one asked for. Ever. At all.

Starting To Forget (Just What Summer Ever Meant To You) (Not Rated) [Flynn x Carrie] by bi_magic

Summary: Last summer didn’t end on a positive note for Carrie Wilson - she and her girlfriend broke up on the last night of camp, and she’s been miserable since. But it seems that the universe is intent on having her fix that this summer. Even if that means she has to live through the same day over and over and over again until she does.

Creative B.S. Was No More, Was No Less (Look Around, You’re Gonna Miss What You Found) (Rated T) [Alex x Luke, Flynn x Reggie] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Alex and Luke go undercover on a mission to a summer camp in order to find a talisman that could endanger the camp and all the kids. While there, they bond with the kids and make peace with the fact that they broke up.

While Alex and Luke are away, Flynn accidentally fucks with time.

bitch but like romantically (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: or: flynn gets stuck in a time loop. {for troped jatp round 2}

down by the bay (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: Over time, Camp Phantom has simply become known as a selective summer camp: one that took only the kids that Caleb saw promise in. And Caleb wasn’t exactly lying. He really did take only the ones he saw promise in, he simply looked for different traits than others might.

For example, say, hypothetically, a boy who could see the future. Or, hypothetically, a girl who could interact with ghosts. Or, hypothetically, a boy who could summon objects to him with a simple thought. Or, and this is completely hypothetical mind you, a boy who could manipulate time.

Those might be some traits that Caleb saw promise in. Just, like, as examples.

Time will tell (But only if you do it right) (Rated T) [Flynn x Carrie] by @malecacidd

Summary: Carrie had been acting a little off for a week or so, but Flynn was pretty much known for seeing something in nothing, and that was probably what they were doing then. If something was going on, Carrie would tell her eventually.

Who knew all it took was a little bit of miscommunication to mess up time itself?

and so it begins (Rated T) [Bobby x Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: It’s the first day of their second week at Camp Carolling (they’re spending an entire month, and they’re getting paid to be there!) when Reggie gets a little lost in the woods. During this misadventure into the woods, he finds an egg shaped rock, an inhabited cabin that may or may not be riddled with signs, and something that might be magic. He probably doesn’t get paid enough to discover magic.

or, when they were thirteen years old, four boys met at camp carolling and eventually became a band that almost became something legendary. now, all four boys are coming back as counselors, three boys in one band and one boy in his own solo act.

so begins the reunion, though it doesn’t go how any of them imagine.

Porcupine Day (Rated T) [Bobby x Ray x Rose] by @wr0temyway0ut

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Trevor broke up with Ray and Rose and they’re… not fine, but managing. But when Trevor to adds insult to injury and buys the camp across the lake from the one they once owned together, the two camps become locked in a bitter rivalry. With neither side willing to set aside their pride and work out their issues, the universe decides to settle their fates itself.

Day After Day (After Day After Day) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by hufflebibin

Summary: When Alex met Willie just after their senior year of high school, they spent a wonderful three months dating before their relationship ended in a blaze of glory. Now, four years later, they meet again as counselors at a summer camp. The only problem? Alex keeps reliving their first day together. The day that Luke had declared “Prank Day.”

This is not how Alex pictured his summer going.

clocks move faster (it’s all we’re after) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @willexxmercer

Summary: Julie likes it when her friends are happy, so when she realizes she’s stuck in a time loop, she uses her knowledge to make sure everything works out for everyone… except she conveniently forgets to factor herself (and Luke) into the mix.

Touch of Magic (Not Rated) [Alex x Luke] by @williexmercer

Summary: When everything stands in Luke and Alex’s way of getting to be with the people they love, they have to repeat the day over and over until they can get the happily ever after that they want.

the play’s the thing (that goes wrong) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @madeline-kahn

Summary: Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day for Macbeth, but not so for Alex and the production of Hamlet that he is directing and starring in. And while he’s stuck repeating the day of the performance over and over, mishaps of all kinds befall the cast.

anything, anything (for another run with you) (Rated T) [Alex x Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: the camp counselor/exes/prank war/time loop fic of your dreams (unless you read all of the other troped round 2 fics lmao)

there’s a glorious sunrise, dappled with the flickers of light (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: ex-best friends Luke and Julie, working as camp counselors at rivaling camps, find themselves stuck in a time loop

the daughter of apollo (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: the JATP x Camp Half Blood AU that nobody asked for

maybe the world isn’t ending (maybe it’s been postponed) (Rated G) [Julie x Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: It’s the last day of camp and Julie has one more prank planned for Luke. He just doesn’t know what it is.

Here We Go Again (Rated T) [Julie x Luke] by @kybee1497

Summary: Julie blinked as she stared at the place Euterpe had disappeared. What did that even mean? What journey? Old places and lost faces? What was she talking about? But before she could dwell on the questions swirling around in her mind, the sky full of stars began to move, shifting in place and descending until they were all around her. Julie felt her feet leave the ground as she rose up and up. One star in particular was burning brighter than the others, growing bigger in front of her.

It grew and grew, until the light was blinding and Julie had to throw a hand up against the harsh light. She closed her eyes as the light surrounded her and then she was falling. Falling down, down, down.

————

ROUND 3: CANONVERSE FICS

The Tropes:

Secret Places

Neighbors

First Kiss

Time Jump

————

Just say you won’t let go (Rated G) [Julie/Luke] by @fanfics-she-wrote

Summary: Hey, Julie

You're the heart and soul 'round here, it's plain to see

in which Julie has a second chance with her boys, and then a third

we will fight to shine together (bright forever) (Rated G) [Bright Lighting Guy/Rob from the Orpheum] by @screamin-amuseum

Summary: the rob/bright lighting guy fic literally nobody asked for but i wrote anyways. enjoy gays, bring ur tissues

what happened when (Rated G) [Alex/Luke] by @janaikam

Summary: Before Julie and the Phantoms, before the guys became ghosts, before Sunset Curve – they were Luke and Alex. Not 5 feet apart cause they’re totally gay.

who cares if one more light goes out? (in a sky of a million stars) (Rated T) [Ray/Rose] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: The first and the last time Ray ever kissed Rose.

we can forget the world (just you and me) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: “This was the first place I ever came out to someone,” Alex says, spinning around and taking in the tree house.

together we can take on the world (Rated G) [Alex/Reggie] by @comeonpeters

Summary: Alex Mercer meets Reggie Peters on October 8, 1983, which means that two days have passed since Reggie’s sixth birthday, because Reggie is a Libra according to the magazines that his mom reads when she gets Reggie to paint her toenails. He’s also just moved to Los Angeles, California from his hometown of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, a small town in the mountains, and he’s told Alex Mercer about all of this in the three minutes that they’ve known each other, and he might be the loudest, most obnoxious boy that Alex has ever met, and he absolutely has to be Alex’s new best friend.

The Peters family moves in down the street from the Mercers in 1983, and so begins the rest of their lives.

Long Live (Can I start another life with you?) (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @smolfangirl

Summary: It’s all too much for one day: first a muffin, then more heartbeats. Julie just needs some time to think. If Luke runs after her to sit by her side so she doesn’t lose it, she won’t complain.

Except afterwards, he starts acting weird. Very weird. And months later, she’s tired of letting him keep his distance.

She can’t do this. Not right now. Not today.

She jumps back on her feet.

The excited grin falls from Luke’s face. She doesn’t try to catch it.

“I – I think this is too much. I need some time. Alone. Sorry.”

Then she runs. She runs past the calloused fingers reaching out to her. Past Reggie and the door, past carved pumpkins on porches and Cornelia Street.

She just runs.

Roses (Rated G) [Emily & Luke, Alex/Luke] by @americanhoney913

Summary: It becomes a sacred place she shares with her son. Mitch is usually off at work from dawn until six o’clock, but Emily’s working from home for now. She works as a florist’s shop right outside the neighborhood. So she brings home seeds and little flowers and other cuts from the store; she and Luke will spend hours out in the dirt, planting seeds and making mud pies and Luke will babble about whatever happened in daycare and make up stories about the different flowers.

Somewhere Only We Know (Rated T) [Nick/Carrie] by hufflebibin

Summary: A journey through Nick Danforth-Evan’s life as experienced in the safety of his backyard hide away.

The Itty Bitty Details (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @williexmercer & @futurearchaeologyprof

Summary: 5 times Willie knew Alex and one where Alex knew Willie

you’re the only one who makes me (my wildflower) (Rated T) [Bobby/Reggie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: The tree was Reggie’s safe space, and Bobby was his safe person. He could escape all his troubles there, except for one nagging thought - did he have feelings for his best friend?

Dying complicated things.

because i’ve known you so long, i know every cadence and what they mean (Rated G) [Alex & Julie, Julie/Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: the Juke 5+1 fic from Alex’s POV.

Someday (I’ll See You Again) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @kybee1497

Summary: They’re wrong. Alex, you are not a failure. You’re incredible. You’re smart. You’re funny, and the best friend I could ask for. You’re a wicked talented drummer and you have a beautiful voice. And more important than all of that, is that you’re you, Alex. And the you you are is wonderful, and lovable and perfect. If your parents can’t see that, that’s their own fault. But I swear, Alex. If you’re afraid of them, I need you to tell me. You have to be safe.” Willie’s voice had gone desperate by the end. Alex deserved to know how freaking amazing he was and the fact that his parents didn’t bother to tell him, and actively worked to tear him down instead, was infuriating.

But Willie also worried about him. He’d worried about Alex since the first time he heard Mr. Mercer shouting through the window, a worry that never really went away. Not with the way Alex automatically straightened up when his parents were mentioned, as if he could hear his dad lecturing him about appearances from miles away. Not with the way Alex looked when he was with them, perfectly pieced together and falling apart at the seams, eyes distant and shoulders tense. Willie was pretty sure he had worrying about Alex etched in his bones by this point.

The Energy Never Dies (Rated T) [Gen Fic] by @americanhoney913

Summary: Four moments across time in the loft of the Molina’s garage.

————

ROUND 4: FINAL!

Theme: Author’s Choice

Tropes:

Royalty AU

Soulmate AU

“Long Story Short…”

Author’s Choice

———

Look, Steal From the Rich. Do It. (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: A Julie and the Phantoms Star Wars AU that kind of looks into the ramifications of soul marks in a turbulent society, but mostly just focuses on the gang infiltrating a fancy Core World party.

take my heart (and take my hand) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie] by @sunsetcurbed

Summary: The stranger smiles. “I’m Willie,” he greets.

“Alex,” Alex nods back.

“Sir,” Willie says pointedly, and smirks up at him as he bows exaggeratedly.

“The word sir is coming out of your mouth directed at me, but I don’t feel like you just addressed me as a sir at all. And please, call me Alex.”

“My apologies,” Willie hums, straightening back up. And then, pointedly, he lowers himself back into the same bow and makes deliberate eye contact with Alex. “Sir.”

Alex blinks. “You’re not going to call me Alex, are you?”

“Absolutely not, Sir.”

the princess and the lord (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @the-most-beautiful-broom

Summary: a JATP x Princess Diaries 2 AU

Diamond in the Rough (Rated G) [Julie/Luke] by @tmp-jatp

Summary: The JATP Aladdin AU

Okay, So You’re Interrupting the Political Guy Again, So Think About That (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by nik_knows_nothing

Summary: Julie and the Phantoms meets The Goblin Emperor meets a soulmate AU meets the author’s stunning lack of what I assume is basic knowledge on how monarchies work.

i had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you (Rated T) [Julie/Luke] by @tonightthestarsalign

Summary: luke gets hired by some noble to bring back the princess that was kidnapped by a dragon

born to be yours (Rated G) [Alex/Willie] by @willexxmercer

Summary: “Hello. It feels strange, resorting to notes like this, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I know you’re here, somewhere. At the ball. I’ve tried to find you for the past few nights. My parents always told me never to believe in looped days and soulmates, but I think this just proves that they were wrong.

My name is Willie. I don’t know how to find you, but sometimes I feel like I’m drawn to you. Like I can just sense you nearby. I don’t know if you’ll find this, but if you do, I’ll try to wait for you on the balcony.

Until we meet.”

our best days are yet unknown (Rated T) [Alex/Reggie/Willie] by @aroacethetic-shitpost

Summary: When Prince Alexander of Sacuria meets his fiance, Prince William of Coterra, he’s astonished to discover that he recognizes his daemon. He recognizes it as one of the other shapes that his own daemon is able to take… as his soulmate. The only problem? Alex already has a soulmate: Reggie Peters, his childhood best friend. What should he do about finally meeting his second soulmate?

Panic and run away? Yeah, sure.

Little does he know he’s about to have a bigger problem than that…

————

Please take the time to read of all these incredible fics! Leave the authors some kudos/comments! They worked so hard this whole event. Thanks so much!

Just as a reminder, our non-anon collection is always open and we are always so excited to receive any submissions! The TROPED: JATP official collection has been CLOSED but if any of our prompts inspire you, please share your fics with us in our non-anon collection! Simple put ‘TROPED_Non_Anonymous’ where it asks for the collection name, and be sure to put what round you are writing for in your notes so we can be sure to tag it appropriately when we share! Also, just as a note, fics submitted to the non-anon collection do not have to follow the word limit and do not require the same strict adherence to the tropes, though we do ask that you comply with our other rules regarding no rape, incest, negativity, and things like that! Happy writing!

TROPED JATP AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_JATP_1

TROPED Non-Anon AO3 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TROPED_Non_Anonymous

#troped: jatp #jatp fanfiction #troped: masterlist #julie and the phantoms #long post

39 notes · View notes

lexpistachio · 8 years ago

Text

just jackparse - a ficrec

for my sister who requested this rec 82 years ago. special thanks for those who painstakingly linked me new fics in my askbox. you’re the real mvp!

some things first:

divided into AU, pre-canon, canon/canon divergence, and future

word length categorized as

short fic = less than 10,000 words medium = 10,000 - 20,000 words long = 20,000 - 60,000 words novel length = 60,000 - 100,000 words

format as follows:

title - author | rating | length | various tags | gratutious commentary by me

summary

just ctrl+f if you wanna find by rating (e.g search for: long) or other tags (eg. smut, humor, au)

★ are personal faves

some liberty was taken in rating fics that are not rated

might update in the future; if i missed something, i’ll be happy to read your rec!

Kent pressed his fingers into his eyes until his vision swam for reasons other than the salty tears welling up in them. “Are you seriously asking me to fly across the goddamn country to hold your hand while you cut me out of your life?” me: you know what this fandom needs? me: an eternal sunshine au me: only without the happy ending

I’ve Been Closing My Eyes by perfectpro ★ - teen | long | inception au | angst | you don't understand how much love i have for this fic. SO MUCH LVOE

Jack Zimmermann? You worked with him and Kent Parson together? What happened?” Bitty asks before he can help himself.

Everyone’s heard the stories. Parse and Zimms, taking the world of dream share by storm, trained by Dominic Cobb himself. Ten years later, no one’s heard from either in two years.

Shrugging his shoulders, Shitty tries to think of how to phrase it. “No one comes out of Limbo the same.”

Kent knew about superstitions before he made it to hockey. He knew about black cats and broken mirrors. About stepping on cracks and throwing pinches of salt over his shoulder. Kent knew about magic before he found hockey.

Jack hums and smiles, but otherwise doesn’t respond. They sit in silence, and he bites his tongue to keep from saying anything. There is no sense disrupting this fragile peace that they have.

Here is the deal he has made with himself: Jack is forbidden, until after the curse of the seventeenth summer. Kent does not want to do anything to let the gods know how they could hurt him the worst.

why do we fall? by sparklyslug - teen | short | touch telepath! jack au | epikegster | angst

“Didja miss me?” Kent had asked / looking strong/ look good/ looking happy/I could stand here all night and all day and just look at you/ and Jack’s control had crumbled, jerked him out of step with time and out into the swirling minds of the college kids filling their house, his consciousness sent running by the brightness in his own chest.

Corporal Kenny,” Jack huffed into Kent’s ear. The arms around his waist tightened.

“Captain Jack,” Kent teased right back. “You outrank me, Zimms.”

The Daily Grind by JaneJHills - mature | long | abandoned wip | the coffeeshop au that was foretold

It’s not that Jack wasn’t into relationships; it’s just that Jack wasn’t a relationships kind of guy.

maybe i’m falling for you by madameofmusic - teen | short | coffeeshop au | this is really cute <3 i too lament the lack of more cutesy coffeeshop aus from this ship. this one’s great tho

Jack’s normal coffee shop relocates, and he’s forced to start buying from the cat-themed coffee shop down the street, Catppuccino. It’s cheesy as hell, but the coffee’s good, and the "purrista” better. Jack doesn’t miss the old shop.

“Shush,” Kent says. “What have you got that says, like, thanks for not judging me when I get wasted on Moscato and pass out on your couch, and also sorry about that? Hypothetically.”

“Hypothetically,” says the florist, lips quirking, “I’d recommend either white tulips or blue hyacinths.”

Even the plainest of the plain shall deign to reign (and boy, you're reigning over me) by exbex - gen | short | high school au | chubby!jack | kent pining over shy jack is cute, yes

Lardo looks at Kent with the most knowing look he’s ever seen aside from his own mother’s. “Kent,” she finally replies, “I like you Bro. So I’m going to give you the following information. Information, which, I assure you, is publicly available. Jack, who transferred in weeks ago, Oh Unobservant One, knows me through GSA. Jack is not straight. Jack likes hockey, among other things. And that is all the emotional labor that I am doing for free.”

Shitty found Kent on the porch. “Saw your girl here,” he said. “Can’t believe you actually got her to come to a party.”

“She’s not my girl,” said Kent, trying not to blush.

“She should be,” Shitty said, smiling and leaning against the railing. “Blind man could see the way you look at her, and you’re the only person she likes at school.”

Twenty Feet Back by floatingstark - mature | short | wip | daddy!jack au as in literally-a-dad-jack

Kent is aware this is a little odd; he’s standing behind some trees on the other side of the park, pretending to stretch but actually just high-key spying on a hot dad and his kid.

i'll be your platinum by achilleees ★ - explicit | medium | sugar daddy!jack au | daddy kink | angst and fluff | this is the one daddy kink fic that made me swoon, it's the banter and the way they fall for each other slowly that takes my breath away | sorta sequels here and here | better yet, read all the entire unrelated daddykink series she wrote

Wicks took a deep breath, then let out in a rush, “So I’ve been catfishing this dude online with your pictures so he’ll buy me free stuff, only now he wants to meet in person to hand off the suit jacket I need for Ginger’s wedding tomorrow, so I need you to meet him outside the Burberry at the Copley mall tonight to pick it up for me.”

Kent couldn’t speak for a minute, because he was laughing too hard.

here in the present tense by achilleees ★ - teen | short | soulmate au | bodyswap |

Jack isn’t really sure what he was expecting when he went to sleep on August 2.

Kind of. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to admit that he genuinely thought he’d wake up in Georgia, in those checker-patterned, sunlight-limned sheets. That he’d go downstairs and hear Suzanne Bittle bustling around in the kitchen, and greet her wearing her son’s socks and his pajamas and his sweet, bashful blush.

Dynamite Boy by TomatoBird - gen | short | wreck it ralph au | glitch!jack | the concept is genius, i’d gladly read 50k more words of this

In which Jack is simultaneously a glitch, a child of champions, and an aspiring player in Hero’s Duty, and Kent is just someone he happens to meet along the way.

“You don’t have to trust me,” Kent said, “you just have to let me do this.”

Jack has spent many years away from his father's court. Now he must return to wed Kent Parson at last, with all those years and hurts between them. It's not pretty.

the light of all lights by decinq - mature | short | vampires au | look, it's not endgame and has open-ended j/b ugh but i feel like every ficrec should have at least one vampire au

Jack says, “Would you rather be able to fly or have super speed.”

The corners of Kent’s mouth tug into a small smile, and he says, “Compared to you, I do have super speed.”

Jack elbows him, hard. Jack asks, “What about being able to see the future?”

Kent thinks, they’ll end the movie here.

The story, of course, goes on.

rentboy jack and his nhl star boyfriend series by achilleees - rentboy!jack | prostitution au |

so put it on me - explicit | short | pining | smut

It will be a cold day in hell before Kent has the fortitude to say no to that pout.

“Ugh,” he says. “It’s just a dumb fantasy, man, it doesn’t matter.”

Jack cocks his head at him. “I am in the business of fulfilling fantasies,” he says. or, eloquently summed up by a friend: "Ugh poor Kent is so in love"

all the hearts they're messing with - teen | short | angst and fluff | trade |

As soon as Kent gets home, he pulls out a pad of paper and a pen and makes a list of his options.

1. Tell Jack you got traded. Get dumped. Cry in your cheerios.2. Hide from Jack that you were traded. Buy out (?) the Vegas media so they don’t cover the story. Bribe NHL.com Break Jack’s laptop so he can’t read NHL.com anymore. Fly back on off-days (?). Have plan fall through because plan is dumb. Get dumped. Cry in cheerios.

“Are you mad at me?” Kent says.

Jack meets his eyes in the mirror, gaze stormy.

“I’m just trying to get along with your parents,” says Kent. “I thought that’s why you brought me here.”

Second Chance by bittlebunny - mature | short | blind date au

“I know, I’m sorry.” Jack repeats. “It was wrong. I just didn’t know what to do, I don’t usually do that type of thing.”

“You should more often. You know you could probably get laid every night if you wanted to?”

Jack blushes and looks down into his black coffee, not quite agreeing with that sentiment.

This is a 16-fic series that centers around Jack and Kent and their history and their future. It follows canon, with one major difference; Bitty decided not to go to Samwell. Each fic is named after and based around a song on the Deluxe version of Troye Sivan’s album Blue Neighborhood. The first two fics are chronological, because they’re in the fic’s current time (2018) in the frame of the story. Most of the fics in the series are told through flashbacks and time jumps, though, and the stories switch back and forth between Jack and Kent’s perspectives.

pre-canon

meet you in the middle by madameofmusic - teen | short | pre-slash

Kent meets Jack Zimmermann for the first time.

A lot of things can happen if a cat is set loose in an ice rink; Kent never thought this would be one of them.

Or: “I may have brought my pet to the rink by accident and it may have escaped you have to help me.” AU

it’s too close for comfort by achilleees - teen | short | pre-slash | cats

“Go suck your own dick,” Parse grumbled. “I’ma find the cat.” Both pairs of shoes wandered away, and Jack was almost relieved until suddenly, without warning, the high tops came back and light flooded his sanctuary as someone crouched and lifted the hem of the tablecloth.

“Hey, you,” Parse said to either Jack or the cat, he couldn’t tell.

the bluest things on earth by blazeofglory - gen | short | drabble | pre-slash

Kent Parson isn't gay, he isn't, but there's... There's something about Jack Zimmermann.

Even though they're linemates, Jack doesn't know Kent all that well. He certainly doesn't expect the American to come look after him when he's unwell on their first roadie.

Count on It by bienenalster - gen | short | pre-slash | codependency | world juniors

Specifically, in which Jack and Kent fail at playing against each other.

Generally, in which Jack and Kent fail at being reasonable human beings. Or, the lighter side of codependency.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by bienenalster, Pax - teen | short | pre-slash maybe | mutual enabling

Jack can appreciate a good game of beer pong in someone's basement, especially when Parse is on his team, one arm around his shoulder as he tries to get Jack to miss his shot.

(Jack never really understood how Parse can just turn it off like that. If you want to win on the ice, then you should want to win all the time. Even at stupid things, like beer pong.)

(Jack has never considered the possibility that beer pong might not be the only game Parse is playing.)

but then his hands roamed by defcontwo - teen | short | first kiss

Jack’s hand pressed into the small of Parse’s back during team meetings, where no one else can see, and Parse toppling into Jack’s lap whenever he gets drunk enough that no one will blink twice at it.

A game of chicken, or a game of chance. Jack doesn’t know which one it’s going to be just yet.

you're neck and neck or cheek to cheek by punkpadfoot - teen | short | first kiss | i'm in love with the author's style of writing, and i love the tentativeness in this fic--they're shy and hesitant; their dilemma feels true

Kent’s always been fairly affectionate, but this thing with Jack is something else entirely.

the spark in your eyes, the look on your face by oscarmild - teen | short | drabble

Jack knows that Kent is his friend- his best friend, even. But lately, it’s been starting to feel like more than just friends.

Insults for Your Lovers by SummerFrost - teen | short | inter-class | social class difference | friends to lovers

Things Jack has: Brand new yellow sneakers, an expensive truck, Kent Parson.

Things Kent has: Converse with holes in them, riding shotgun, Jack Zimmermann.

Count on It by bienenalster - gen | short | preslash | codependency | world juniors

Specifically, in which Jack and Kent fail at playing against each other.

Generally, in which Jack and Kent fail at being reasonable human beings. Or, the lighter side of codependency.

What's Better Than This? Just Guys Bein' Dudes by Bittyybee (sunlight) - mature | short | massages | first kiss | ust

Kent's shoulders hurt. Jack gives good massages.

Kent spends the beginning of his summer with hockey prodigy/best friend Jack Zimmermann because they're young and they can and Kent likes getting free things.

"I know how you get all psycho near a game, don't worry. Just uh- maybe find a healthy way to release that frustration." Kate suggested as she turned and winked at Jacq. "Y'know what I mean?"

"Not hockey?" Jacq asked confused.

"Not hockey." Kate repeated, meeting Jacqs eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

its pimms cis swap smut!! enjoy!!

A Quiet Kind of Intimacy by alpha_exodus - explicit | short | first time | smut | photography

Jack doesn't really care about having a roommate on this roadie - that is, until he heads to his room and finds out his roommate is Kent Parson.

touches my foolish heart by foxfireflamequeen - explicit | short | first time | pwp

“That,” says Kent. “Was the most uncool moment of my life.”

Jack’s still laughing, the fucker.

First by omgericzimmermann - gen | short | first times | drabble | fluff and angst

They were just kids.

They were so young that everything was a first.

tear at the seams by defcontwo - mature | short | drabble | angsty smut

This is what Jack lives for: The second he touches down on the ice, his mind clears. For sixty minutes, he is nothing but a blank slate, a white board that fills itself up with plays and tactics, a steady hand on the stick and a heart that beats for nothing else.

So he sits next to Jack on roadies, bumping their shoulders together amicably as Jack chews on his lip and stares out the window at the passing scenery. He leans into every casual touch - Jack’s gloved hand on his back, their skates knocking together on the bench. Seeks him out on the ice, feeling a thrill when their passes connect effortlessly; slams him into the boards after game-winning goals, their teammates piling up around them but it’s Kent’s fist clutching the back of Jack’s jersey, Kent’s voice yelling in Jack’s ear.

If Jack notices, he doesn’t say anything.

Kent still hopes.

Good Things Ahead by perfectpro - teen | short | fwb

Jack doesn't want to go to a party, but Kent's pretty sure that he can be convinced.

Mutually Assured by Verbyna - teen | short | codependency | has kent/ofc | angst

The smile on Kent’s face is all wrong. He fixes it.

we gaze up at the stars above our heads by alyssakate - teen | short | fluff (mostly)

I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, or when we meet our ends, but please just let me hold your hand.

There's thirty-four days of what feels like an endless summer stretched between the Memorial Cup and the NHL draft. Thirty-four days days of each other. Thirty-four days left.

four strong winds by defcontwo - teen | short | fluff with an angsty ending? (a tag that could be patented to this ship that's for sure) | i just love my teenage boys on dates and living in the moment ok

The sales pitch is irrelevant: this moment right here, sitting in the front of Kent’s piece of shit pickup truck, listening to “Party in the USA” on the radio at top volume – that’s all the convincing Jack ever needed.

Or: Kent and Jack, a carnival, and the last gasp of the 34 days.

follow my lead by mardia - explicit | short | the seduction of jack zimmermann | kent here is wily but his conviction is compelling | podfic available

Kent likes to have his fun, likes to mess with people, but there's something about messing with Jack that's just so deeply satisfying for him. He can poke and poke and he'll get a reaction every single time. No matter what, no matter how blatant Kent gets or how he pushes it, he'll get that same wide-eyed disbelieving stare, that same red blush staining Jack's cheeks.

New things by robokittens - explicit | short | smut | pwp

"Jack," Kent mumbles into Jack's neck. "I wanna try something."

wax/wane - explicit | short | angst | smut

Things will come full circle for Kent – he's sure of it.

party pieces by familiar - explicit | short | smut | pwp | painplay

From the early 2008 so-bad-it's-good sex idea vault: "It’s just him and Kent and the really stupid idea that was beating his ass raw with a hockey stick." Gotta hit it with something, you know?

search the world for something else by somehowunbroken - mature | short | second person POV | angst | au

Your name is Jack Zimmermann, and you were born into hockey.

Ode to Joy by coyotesuspect - mature | short | drunk sex

December 31st, 2008. Parse has a good feeling about the new year.

mess you made by schwule - mature | short | angst

Jack’s life hasn’t been very exciting, despite what people may think. Kent might just be the most thrilling thing that’s ever happened to him.

only time is ours by thistidalwave - mature | short | angst

Jack always feels like he’s running. Running to catch up. Running to get ahead. Lungs burning. Legs about to give out. Falling behind, behind, behind. Coming in dead last, even when he hits the finish line before anyone else.

Leaving Me Stranded by mardia - explicit | short

Jack’s dad and Kent really get along great. Which isn’t a surprise, they’re basically the same sort of person--outgoing, funny, always ready with a story or joke--so when Kent comes out to dinner with Jack and his family, it’s basically those two monopolizing the conversation for the entire meal.

an empty room by quietest_one - explicit | short | smut | established relationship

The Combine is a mad rush of a long weekend, painfully sober, gloriously exhausting. Kent is on the road to reaching his dreams, and he's taking Jack along for the ride. (Or, two boys exchange handjobs around the back of a gym. Whichever you prefer.)

the heart is a risky fuel to burn by idrilka - mature | fluff and angst | established relationship

Montreal in summer is hot as hell, the heat sticky and clinging to the skin. (There were the thirty-four days in the summer of 2009, between winning the Memorial Cup and the NHL Entry Draft in Montreal, where things were perfect. This is one of those days.)

let me feel i'm falling safely to the ground by natscribbles - mature | short

Kent doesn't know which what ifs are more dangerous, can't tell which ones hurt the most.

I Love You, He Thinks by blithelybonny - teen | short

It's the night before the draft, and Kent knows that this is probably the end.

my versailles at night by thistidalwave - teen | short | au | first kiss

But now—now it’s the quiet of the early morning, they just won the Memorial Cup, and Jack doesn’t want to let this moment pass him by.

where we went by speedboat - mature | short | dysfunctional relationship

Once in the car, Kent does three things: he googles "valium+vodka"; he shakes Jack awake; and he takes a napkin and wipes the tears away from Jack's face.

or: Parse was the one who found Jack during his overdose.

or: In Defense of Kent Parson.

34 days by thistidalwave - explicit | short | fluff and angst

There were the 34 days in the summer of 2009, between winning the Memorial Cup and the NHL Entry Draft in Montreal, where things were perfect. Who wouldn’t want that back?

it's the stars that score by perfectpro - mature | medium | angst

It’s a week until the NHL draft. A week until he stops competing with Kent and starts competing against him. A week until he finds out if his dad’s name carries more weight than Kent’s skill does, and Jack sometimes has a hard time breathing when he starts thinking about it.

It’s why he tries not to think about it.

Three Words, Repeated by Freudianity - explicit | short | fluff with an angsty ending

5+1 Five times Jack told Kent he loved him, and one time he didn't.

to you he is a room by punkpadfoot - teen | short | angst | kent pov to the story followed by the next in this list

He’s happy now—the weather is warm and the grass is soft and there’s still a pleasant buzz in his head. Jack is close enough to touch. Right now, summer’s end feels distant, less of a looming presence and more of an exit they’ve yet to reach.

to them he is a mirror by misandrywitch - teen | short | angst | jack pov to the story which precedes this in this list

All Jack knows is that after this summer, everything is going to be different.

larger than life by Verbyna - teen | short | also helpfully tagged as: the making of Kent "Victory" Parson“

Everything feels like the end of the world when it happens. No one can see the future, so it’s hard to believe it exists.”

Kent’s dad wasn’t always right, but he was right about that.

if you are looking for the demons that play well with your own by storiesfromtheden - gen | short | angst

Kent spent years counting the things that were not right.

Like A Missing Limb series by thatallone - teen | short | angst | suicide attempt

Without You

Prompt: "You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

[delete]

Kent typed out a lot of texts to Jack in the summer of 2009. He never worked up the nerve to send any of them.

physical or otherwise by jedusaur (podfic - audio only) - explicit | audio length: 3:33 mins | this is short and packs quite a punch; please give it a listen!

"Listen to me, Jack. I am not going first in the draft because of your shitty impulse control."

city without seasons by thepalebluedot - teen | short | angst

It’s hard to measure time in a city you don’t believe in.

Kent after the draft.

Countdown by SummerFrost - mature | short | drabble | angst

Kent Parson spends three years of birthdays asking for Jack Zimmermann. Jack gives what he can; sometimes it's enough.

what might have been lost - mature | short | angst | ransom and holster reads fic au | 5+ 1

five times jack and kent loved each other (and one time they couldn't)

So if you don't mind, I'll walk that line by alyssakate - teen | short | au |

Kent and Jack play each other at World Juniors in 2008 and then again in 2009.

A story about winning, losing and coming to terms with what really matters.

no sign of land by perichareia - gen | short | unrequited love | angst | 2nd Person POV

i love him.

you’re seventeen years old and the words echo in your head like the aftershock of a heavy check into the glass. for a long moment, your world stops.

dodging bullets with your broken heart by perfectpro - gen | short | angst | mostly jack-centric, but i feel like it's in-character with how jack compartmentalizes his life, which explains a lot about the tension with Kent refusing to be boxed and be forgotten

Kent belongs back in Juniors. Kent belongs at Rimouski, and on the bus traveling to roadies, and on the ice with Oceanic. Kent does not belong on the front porch of the Haus.

Five scenes between Ashley Parson and her brilliant, miserable, wonderful big brother. Or: Kent Parson, growing up.

Role Models by MisconductandMimosas - gen | medium | au | read the rest of the series here

Jack and Kent both missed the draft, albeit for completely different reasons

-or-

“For your ThrowBack Thursday of the week, we sat down with two of the NHL’s finest, Trotsy of the Aces and McLeed of the Rangers to talk their record-breaking Memorial Cup win as well as former juniors star and Zimmermann liney- Kent-“ Holster looked at the magazine article and blinked- “Parson,” he said at a lower volume. “Kent Parson? I forgot about that guy. How did they even find him?”

history begins to be blue and brown eyes by decinq - teen | short | angsty ending, with j/b

There are articles upon articles about their on-ice chemistry, the way they move around each other like the well-oiled grooves of an impeccable machine.

welcome to the second reel by idrilka - teen | short | angst

They win at home. It goes all the way to game six, and then they win in their own home arena after it goes to double overtime, and Kent gets to lift thirty-four pounds of silver into the air.

(In the aftermath of the Aces' first Stanley Cup Championship title, Kent goes to Samwell on his Cup day.)

This is What Happy Looks Like by VerityR ★ - teen | short | angst | i just like the author’s writing of it

It’s been years. Six of them. Kent Parson is not still in love with Jack Zimmermann. But it’s not like he’s in love with anybody else. So when, in his dreams, he stumbles upon something approaching happiness, maybe the figure is vaguely Jack-shaped. Jack-adjacent. But that’s not the same thing as love.

canon/canon divergent

past the last exit by misandrywitch ★ - teen | medium | the prose on this one blows me away

Jack wonders when Kent started asking so many questions that he doesn't have the answers to. It felt so much easier when neither of them asked any at all.

Shut the God Damn Door by jedusaur - mature | short | au | angst maybe? short but poignant

What if Jack went first overall, as planned, and took his addiction with him to Vegas?

"Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again.

Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop.

i thought of you and where you'd gone by runphoebe - mature | short | angst with a hopeful ending | has k/omc | love the fics like this that don't view jack with rose colored glasses

When Kent’s name gets called first, he smiles, and when he slips the jersey over his head, he smiles, and when he realizes he’s going to be in Vegas, Las fucking Vegas, he smiles so hard his cheeks ache. Just because Jack’s a huge fucking fuck up who can’t handle being number one doesn’t mean Kent’s going to cry about it.

In which Kent doesn't even bother trying to get over Jack because he knows it's a huge waste of his time.

you're writing your tragedy by forochel - teen | short | angst | podfic available Year 2, Comic 9, Parse - Part III, from Kent's perspective. | epikegster

I basically took 'Kent "Baby One More Time" Parson' and ran with it.

you're familiar like my mirror years ago by nighimpossible - explicit | short | accidental voyeurism | epikegster

Kent and Jack get reacquainted at the Epikegster.

Alternatively: Bitty hears something he shouldn't have.

New Start by SalazarTipton - teen | short | morning after | fluff | post-epikegster

The morning after falling into bed together during Epikegster, Jack wakes up in Kent’s arms.

To Hell With Why by angelsaves - explicit | short | j/p/omc threesome | smut | my alternative excerpt/summary: id have a 3some w/u, Parse texts him after a while. Thanks, Jack replies

Jack has been over Parse for ages. (At least, that's what he tells himself.) In which there is bad-idea sex, accidental voyeurism, an invitation (or two) to a threesome, an actual threesome, and 0% "being over each other" by volume.

the epikegster remix series by defcontwo

you can take this heart - teen | short | epikegster | reconciliation

"So, what the hell was that, then?"

Or: a way that Epikegster could have gone differently.

and don't let go - teen | short | post-epikegster | fluff

"Did you miss me at all?"

Or: what happens when a pair of dumbasses use their words a little better.

down the backs of tabletops by defcontwo - teen | short | has mentions of k/omc and past j/b

Breakups are a kind of private war, Jack guesses.

varied my velocities by punkpadfoot ★ - teen | short | tentative friendship | tears were shed in the reading of this fic

This should feel like a victory. This shouldn't feel like tiptoeing around broken glass.

This Time (I'm Telling You, I'm Telling You) by sparklyslug - mature | short | angst | established relationship

He and Zimms, they’re pretty good at breakups, historically. They’re pretty good at what comes after the breakup, anyway.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible - teen | short | humor | only j/p if you squint but it's goddamn hilarious with a side of ransom and holster

5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth.

Not Quite Too Late by loveandallthat - explicit | short | au | reconciliation | ahhhh this is nice

Jack accidentally confesses on live television that he had a young love that ended badly. It’s possible that this isn’t quite as bad as he thinks it is.

Seven-Year Itch by Idday ★ - teen | medium | fake/pretend relationship | married au | angst with a happy ending

“I’m sorry,” Georgia says slowly, like she thinks she misheard him. “You said you’re… married?”

Amanda raises her eyebrows and taps something onto her keyboard. “That’s good to know, Mr. Zimmermann, but I’m sure you know that many of our players are married.”

“Right, but this is… different.” Jack says.

“Jack,” Georgia says, “Why did you never mention this before? Do I know your wife?”

“I’m sure you do,” Jack says carefully, “Only… it’s not a wife. It’s Kent Parson.” ... (So what if they’re not pretending to be married. They’re still pretending to be happily married.)

the nearer your destination by achilleees - teen | short | angst | open-ended

“Parse fought Averin because he was talking shit about you,” Max said bluntly. “And you being here is not going to put him in a better emotional state.”

neutral zone stickhandling by achilleees - explicit | short | injury recovery | humor (hallelujiah)

The splint around Kent’s leg is a feat of engineering, a hulking behemoth of black plastic and Velcro, but the crutches are sleek and slim. an alternate take on the March of Jack’s senior year.

Push/Pull by thistidalwave, Verbyna - teen | short | soul bond au | break up | I’m gonna miss him for the rest of my life" stayed with me | why do all the soulbond fics in this pairing all end tragically? Who holds the stars up in the sky? Is true love just once in a lifetime?

He looks at Kent and feels nothing, if nothing feels like a shattered rib cage, all the protection around his heart gone. Kent is right in front of him, his hair falling into his face and his hands clenched in the sheets, but if Jack closes his eyes, Kent could be anywhere.

(or, Jack and Kent can’t keep their bond if they both want to play in the NHL.)

bang the doldrums by Verbyna - explicit | short | has j/b | au but almost canon in my head how jack aggressively minimizes kent's importance in his pre-samwell years lol

Kent Parson is not Jack's friend. He’s a fucking fever.

Maybe Jack's not the only one who's scared.

Kent and Jack come out together. Not together together, though, no matter how much Kent wishes that were true.

Alternately titled: "the jackparse get back together fic."

Kent Parson has well over ninety-nine problems. He has a chronic potty mouth, a sneaking suspicion he may be an actual idiot, a narcissistically-named cat with gas issues, too many sisters... the list goes on.

Kent Parson has more than ninety-nine problems and Jack Zimmermann — freshly, resentfully and recently traded to the Las Vegas Aces — is definitely one of them.

you know i held on too much by unveils - explicit | short | fluff | smut | yay all the way for happy smut

It takes a minute for the pieces to work together in Jack’s brain, but when he catches Kent’s Britney phone case out of the corner of his eye, heat blooms in his chest to match the spread of red across his cheeks, embarrassment and something else entirely. He doesn’t duck his head, but it’s a near thing, under Kent’s crooked grin. “Really? You think now is a good time to be taking pictures?”

Two swipes and a press of Kent’s thumb has his camera app sliding open to the picture he took. Jack cranes his neck to see, but Kent presses the phone into his hand, slides his hands around Jack’s neck. “Dude, yeah. You make me look good, Zimms.” -- or: the one where jack and kent have fun with camera phones!

my honey i know by achilleees - teen | short | possessiveness | jealousy | reconciliation

After that, it happened more often than he would ever have wanted to admit. It was almost too easy; girls were always after Kent, but Kent spent too much of his time looking at Jack to notice.

For example, Kent texted him from chemistry one day. Hey lara and aly wanted 2 know if we wanted 2 go thrifting w them after school 2day. No, was all Jack texted back.

Kk, Kent replied, and they didn’t go thrifting with Lara and Aly after school that day.

we could be made for this by stereosymbiosis - explicit | short | pwp

Kent lifts his head and peers up at Jack. “Hey, Zimms, what kind of soap do you use?”

“I’m not sure this is entirely relevant, Parse,” Jack breathes out. Kent looks at the expanse of skin stretched before him, Jack’s muscles taut and twitching, the fucking perfect rise of Jack’s ass, Jack’s legs spread just so and his knees pressed into the mattress for leverage, and yeah. That can probably wait.

Jersey Memories by SalazarTipton - teen | short | reminiscing | hopeful ending

When Jack goes home to Montreal for break and just wants to get his assignments finished, but his parents keep giving him chores. When his mom sends him to look through his old jerseys, he gets lost in some old memories.

take me back to when we started by madameofmusic - teen | short | reminiscing | reconciliation

Kent gets a package in the mail from Jack six months after Jack signs with the Falconers.

They’re never going to be the same carefree best friends that they once were, and Kent’s getting around to accepting that. Things are good, now, but they’re not the same, and that’s okay. He’s getting used to it.

They’re better than they’ve been in years, and that’s really all that he can hope for, but sometimes Kent remembers all the texts he sent at 2 am and all the responses he never got.

Better the Second Time by loveandallthat - teen | short | au | reconciliation

He gets Jack’s text, “you don’t have to,” thirty seconds before he gets a direct email from Jack’s agent.

Of course he has to.

Or, Jack has a public event before he goes into the NHL, and Jack’s agent insists that it won’t be good publicity unless Kent is also there.

the heaviest of burdens by thekissofbees - mature | short | angsty pining

Kent sleeps with his phone resting on his pillow, the volume cranked up as high as it will go and the vibrate on. He’s stretched the cord of the charger out so that it will reach his bed, and the coating of the wire is beginning to fray and peel off at the top.

(Or: Kent waits for Jack to call.)

Like Slow Motion by apatientwolf - teen | short | reminiscing | angsty pining

//There in the bathroom I try not to fall apart and the sinking feeling starts as I say hopelessly "he said he'd be here"// OR Taylor Swift's discography is the soundtrack of Kent Parson's life.

The one where it's July 4th 2015 in upstate New York.

Getting Some Rest by SalazarTipton - gen | short | established relationship | fluff

There’s a box under Jack’s desk. When he works on a paper, he’ll kick his feet up on it. Everybody that comes in doesn’t notice it. If they did, it just looks like some miscellaneous box of whatever. Nothing special. They wouldn’t think anything of it. No one knows that battered, footprint covered cardboard box is Jack’s lifeline. On his hardest days and in the surreal, dark hours when his insomnia hits, he opens it up and is able to breathe.

Kent likes the difference between their bodies. He likes being shorter than Jack because he can curl comfortably under the weight of Jack’s arm across his shoulders when they stand next to each other, and he likes that Jack’s body on top of his is enough to hold him down and keep him there if Jack doesn’t want him to move. He likes that Jack has big, strong hands and big, thick fingers.

The Aces get knocked out of the playoffs and Kent Parson is having feelings about it. Jack Zimmermann is having feelings about him.

keep your lights on by ladyalysv - explicit | short | rebound sex | au | unapologetically elf-centric jack

At least with Parse, it's hard to fuck things up more. (2016)

when you were there by defcontwo - mature | short | angsty angst

Jack plays the Aces for the first time, and two things happen at once: Jack, nervous and fumbling all the way through the warm up, right down to puck drop when he catches sight of that familiar blonde hair and something in him just settles, winds up playing the most beautiful hockey of his season to date.

And Kent ignores him completely.

Redux series by Idday ★ - established relationship | domesticity | fluff | au | the thing with future-ish jackparse fluff aus is that their issues (e.g. kent's insecurities, or jack's daddy issues) remain to be dealt with and don't vanish by the virtue of love ipso facto, and that's why they're so goddamn satisfying

Like We Were - teen | short | first times (again) | getting back together | friends to lovers

Jack thinks there should be a word for this, for when you fall in love with the same person a second time.

no one has me (like you do) - teen | short | summers and holidays

“Kenny,” Jack says again. “You went golfing for me. That’s how I know it’s real.”

my heart, it came to life - mature | short | family planning??

“Kenny,” Jack says, and falls into the deck chair where Kent is laying out, absorbed in whatever’s on his phone screen. It could be an email from his agent, or it could be a cat video. It’s hard to tell.

The chair is much too small for two fully grown hockey players, but they make it work. Kent drops his phone, but he’s wearing sunglasses, his face hard to read. Jack pulls them down gently until Kent’s squinting up at him, eyes adjusting to the bright afternoon.

“Do you want kids?” Jack asks him.

something about the way you love me (finally feels like home) - teen | short | pseudo-proposal

He loves Jack likes this and loves that he can make him like this—warm and open and laughing with their friends. It makes him stupidly proud, like he has his own personal Jack Zimmermann. He has to share his boyfriend with the rest of the world, sure, but they only get the hockey robot version. Kent gets this Jack, the real Jack, all to himself.

future

“For one player on the Aces, this game represents the return of youth in another, special way. In just three weeks, Kent Parson, captain of the Las Vegas Aces, will not only be returning to the east coast winter of his childhood, but he will have the rare opportunity of being out on the same pond as his former friend and rival, Jack Zimmermann. The opportunity to play a game outdoors may remind them of their childhood, but from sharing a special bond as young teammates to struggling against each other for victory, this game also shows how much has changed with time.“

Kent texted Jack: “fucking epix”.

Dad Hugs by MisconductandMimosas - gen | short | more kent & bad bob tbh but i’ll take more of this rn | fluff

In the summer of 2019, Kent attends Bob Zimmermann’s private Hockey Hall of Fame Induction party

Because Jack is an addict, and some addicts relapse.

Endgame Jack/Kent. I cannot stress this enough.

In Due Time by loveandallthat - teen | short | reconciliation

Jack’s been in the NHL for several years now. The Falconers rose to glory and fell again, just like the Aces. Jack gets on a plane to Vegas.

Behind Closed Doors by loveandallthat - explicit | short | reconciliation | friends to lovers | getting together

It’s just a tabloid. Nobody’s going to believe it anyway; it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Jack can tell himself any one of these things a thousand times and he’s never going to believe them.

Confirmed: Kent Parson Las Vegas Aces’ First Choice All Along It doesn’t even help that the last line is, “When asked for comment, Kent Parson said, ‘Who even cares anymore?’”

17 Again by daeguarchives - teen | short | friends to lovers | angst

“I can’t believe I actually thought I was in love with you, once.”

17 was a bad time for both of them, they both know that. Except now Kent's kidding himself into thinking he can move on and Jack's kidding himself into thinking he has moved on and for some reason, 17 seems a much better time than now.

new jersey is for lovers series by defcontwo, sparkyplugs ★ | it's soft and sweet and sometimes, that's enough

Ready to Walk a Path That's New - teen | short | curtainfic | fluff

They’ll always have things to apologize to each other for. But these days, they’re trying to focus on what they have to thank each other for.

These days, that’s a much longer list.

There's a place for you and me - mature | short | proposal | fluff

“I don’t know, I just, uh. It wasn’t there. He’s not the kind of guy I could see myself ending up with, I guess.”

Jack laughs, warm and close, the standard pre-chirp Zimmermann coming in at the edges. “And what kind of guy would that be?”

Kent swallows hard, and thinks, You. Fuck me, it’s always going to be you. Or: the slow and steady steps to a happily ever after.

“And my running observation is that Parse can’t take a compliment from you without blowing it off. Could be a coincidence, but no evidence to the contrary since I started paying attention,” Ransom said.

“What?” Jack said, right as Kent walked back in the room.

the river twice by Verbyna - teen | short | addiction relapse | angst | hopeful ending at least

Going to Vegas seemed like the only option.

player judged most valuable by achilleees - teen | short

prompt: future fic, jack’s been in the nhl a few years, ignoring parse when they play the aces. he can’t ignore him the night of the nhl awards, not when he looks this good, not when he fucking thanks jack in his hart acceptance speech.

i really really really really really really like you by achilleees ★ - teen | short | insecurity | established relationship | jack reassuring kent is my forever jam

“Hey,” Jack said. “My parents love you, alright? They have never not loved you. This is going to be fine.”

“Condescension negates cookie privileges,” Kent said, and shut the door in his face.

some nebulous universe called domesticity series by alwaysbuddy ★ - established relationship | fluff | humor

keep your hands on me - explicit | short | sex dream | feminization | dirty talk af

“Not a girl then?”

“It was, yeah,” Jack admits, throat feeling a little tight, “you were the girl.

”in search of our lost time - explicit | short | hurt/comfort | bathtub sex

Jack rests a hand lightly on the porcelain, skimming forward to catch one of Kent’s wrists, where it’s dangling off the edge of the tub. Kent immediately turns his hand over, and wraps two fingers around Jack’s own wrist loosely, tugging in a way that says, why aren’t you in here with me yet, huh?

Maybe I'm Not Too Young to be a Cowboy by bsmog - teen | medium | retirement | injury

Kent is 34 years old. He's won everything there is to win in the world of hockey (just not this year, let's not talk about it, okay?), but ever since an injury took Jack out of hockey altogether, there's something missing on the ice. What the hell is the offseason for if not to find out what that is?

If only anything was ever that easy where Jack Zimmermann was concerned.

Wait So Long by perfectpro - gen | short | fluff | wedding and marriage | domesticity

Let it never be said that Kent Parson doesn’t work for what he wants. Trembling, Kent gets off his knee, but he doesn’t close the ring box. “I don’t want to win another Cup alone. I don’t want to win another Cup without you,” he explains, and it’s a confession if it’s anything. He doesn’t know how to make it not true.

Gordie Meow by madameofmusic - teen | short | fluff | established relationship | humor

Kent’s cats are allergic to Jack. This isn’t even the most ridiculous thing Jack’s had to deal with.

Kent “No Chill” Parson by MisconductandMimosas - gen | short | humor | all-star weekend au | established relationship, if you read this first

“Be on my team for the All-Star game,” Kent said suddenly.

Jack chuckled, “They haven’t even announced next year’s format yet. It could be by division this year. Even if it’s not, they could make us opposing captains.”

#omgcheckplease #kent parson #parsepositive #jackparse #pimms #jack zimmermann #fic rec #omgcp

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shsl-shipper-gamer-fangirl · 8 years ago

Text

For @skiretehfox's Maximus AU which is one of my favorite iterations of Max (and it's how I found your blog!) I fell in love with her at first sight and this is me singing praise and thanks for creating her and the whole AU. I hope I didn't write her ooc and if I did, please correct me. Anyways, here's the fic, enjoy!

Maximus Victory

Maximus was never one to be bothered to make an effort. In fact, she's given up trying altogether. She's learned at an early age that effort is futile but it's not because of the ratio of attempts to failures, rather the opposite. Everything was just so easy to achieve and so predictable. The world was dictated by patterns and to accomplish a goal was to simply follow the set path with predetermined rules. Perhaps that's why the only semblance to excitement there was in life for her was when she's bending the said rules or when there were hardly any restrictions in the first place. Either works and since she gets bored easily, she doubles in both.

She majors both in Law and in the Arts, Photography in particular, at the same time. There's a reason why she specializes in both of these areas. Manipulating the laws of legality was interesting enough to work as a brain-teaser for her on good days. Manipulating the laws of photography to get that perfect shot can be entertaining and fulfilling at times. And then there's the hidden third Major in Time, manipulating the laws of space and time just because she can.

No, she didn't fucking stutter. She has time powers, deal with it.

It's a rather dull story if you asked Maximus and although it was surprising at the time, that excitement obviously didn't last for the rest of her life. Actually, that got her the time powers in the first place: the end of her life, or at least it was supposed to be. Coming from a prestigious family has its own downsides aside from the boring parties filled with pretentious adults pretending to give a shit. For Maximus, she got kidnapped at the age of ten. The criminals weren't even professionals and ended up accidentally shooting her. She would have died too or maybe she did die but her rewind just overwrote that history. Needless to say, someone other than her ended up with a bullet on that day.

Rewinding time? What-the-fuck-ever. She doesn't give a shit.

Having time powers got old real fast. It was nothing that extraordinary for her as mastering any other skill. Within weeks she learned how to prevent the nosebleeds and within months, she could rewind for more minutes than she'll ever need to. She's confident that she knows how it works and mastered all of its tricks so much in fact that whatever thrill she felt on the first time had long since died along with the timeline where she's supposed to be dead. The supernatural aspect of it has been normalized and has now become routine. In short, she got bored. She started to think that whatever this was just might be the most exciting experience she'll ever get.

Her boring days carried on until she turned eleven and she attended a charity event in Seattle with her parents. She absolutely loathed these social gathering of hypocrites and if she had a choice, she wouldn't be here at all. Unfortunately being a kid meant less free will on her part but at the very least she was allowed freedom to separate and roam on her own. The exhibit wasn't even that interesting but it will have to do rather than the annoying adults that filled it. As she easily weaved through the groups of people she would have nothing to do with, she eavesdropped on voices that only spoke of bullshit.

Until she heard a voice that seemed to carry an IQ that was higher than the room's average.

"What an insult." The voice belonged to a girl with long blond hair and a scowl that matched her disgust. She's standing by one of the art booths and muttering to herself far too loudly and condescending. "No one's actually here to donate for the arts. Everyone's too busy kissing ass with people instead of actually admiring the displayed masterpieces." She glared at the room in general with great disapproval that Maximus couldn't help but approve.

"Masterpieces?" She smoothly took a spot beside her with an amused smirk. "Point me at one when you see them."

The girl turned to her, most likely surprised that someone would comment on her not so inner monologue. Her cheeks were tinged red with embarrassment but she quickly masked it under the guise of anger. She's certainly a proud one. "Well of course I didn't mean all of these!" She gestured to the entirety of the room and then crossed her arms. "There's no such thing as a gallery filled with only the best works. More than half are usually dull stud shots just trying to catch a ride on the greatness of the actual good ones."

Well she's not wrong although Maximus wouldn't want to inflate her ego by admitting that. At least this girl knew what she was talking about and she had the backbone to speak them out. Her eyes shone with the slightest of interests. "Huh, is that what you think so?" She tested her, intimidating.

"That's what I know so." The girl confidently replied and with a raised chin, she beckoned her, "And? What do you think?"

Maximus blinked. That's new. So there truly existed a person who wouldn't shrink from her. This girl could hold her own ground and who was Maximus to deny her conversation? "Hmm..." She hummed shortly and then pointed to one photo in particular. "Well this guy's trying too hard to go for Avedon-esque."

It was unexpected but the girl's face lit up at the mention of the photographer. It was so bright and instantaneous that Maximus could have sworn that a flash literally went off. "You know Richard Avedon? He's my hero!" She started excitedly and even jumped a bit when she fully turned towards her. When she realized that she had forgotten the proper but also boring TPO, she quickly composed herself. She held herself back but the embers in her eyes continued to glow warmly. "I mean... ahem, yes it is rather distasteful at how poor his attempt is. It's an absolute disgrace. I can't believe this crap is even here."

So this girl apparently also knew how photography worked and Maximus is impressed because that's already more than most of the guests' actual knowledge of the art. "And how would your attempt be?"

"Obviously better than this amateur." She scoffed and there was something with the way she said it, the power in her voice, that told her that she wasn't just all talk. "See, the technique is just..." And then she proceeded to expound on how to pull off an Avedon photoshoot.

And although Maximus was not one to socialize, she thought that she didn't mind spending time with this girl.

"Maximus Caulfield." She finally said after their fourth conversation. There was a small but noticeable proud grin on her face. This girl had earned the right to her name and frankly, she enjoyed her company. "It's a fucking relief to know that there's someone here who isn't a retard."

The girl just nodded in agreement. "Likewise. You aren't just air yourself." Despite her proud attitude, there was a clear underlying tone of approval in her voice. "If you don't already know, I'm Maribeth Chase. I suppose you can call me Mary for short."

"Mary, huh?" She rolled the name across her tongue experimentally. Something about the name just didn't sit right with her and she wracked her brain as to why. In the end, she couldn't figure out the reason but she did figure out a new nickname. "Nah, I think I'll just call you Vic."

"Vic?" She repeated and with obvious confusion written on her face. "Why Vic?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. It just feels right."

"Well I'm not the only one going home with a stupid nickname, Maxine." She eyed her levelly.

"It's Max, never Maxine." Maximus shot back and then smirked. "I think we're going to get along just fine, Vic."

They got along more than just fine, so much in fact that their parents already arranged for them to get married in the future.

Not like that made any difference since Maximus wasn't planning on spending the rest of her life with anyone else. She already spent her first eleven years with boring complacency and she'd be damned if that lasted any longer. So they meet again at another gala the next month and then after, they scheduled a meeting without the crowd of overaged morons. Maximus found Vic interesting enough that she dropped from her current school and transferred to hers. Vic couldn't believe what she did at first but she may have half screamed half squealed when her parents confirmed the fact. Maximus later found out about it and teased the hell out of her cute blushing face.

By the time that Vic got her pixie cut, they were already dating. The confession wasn't as much romantic as it was spontaneous.

"Date me." Maximus just suddenly dropped out of nowhere during an ordinary drive to the coffee shop.

The confession was just so unexpected that it almost passed by Vic's head. Almost. In a few seconds, her brain stopped and so did the car as her foot slammed on the brakes. Her head turned and faced her, gaping. "What did you just say?"

"Eyes on the road, partner." Maximus teased. "Did you know that most car accidents happen because the driver is looking elsewhere?"

"Oh, don't you pull that shit on me." Vic snarled and Maximus smiled wider because even Vic's angry face was cute. She didn't share her same amusement though. She glared harder. "Did you just say what I think you said?"

"Sorry, did I stutter?" Maximus leaned in close, so close that their noses were almost touching and their breaths were warm and mixing, and oh god it was intoxicating for Vic. In a seductively low voice, Maximus whispered, "I said fuck me."

A delectable shiver ran through Vic's spine and Maximus' teeth showed. There's also the obvious coloring of her cheeks but Vic was adamant on powering through this. "Maybe I'll think about it when you say what you actually first said."

"So that's a yes on fuck?" Maximus grinned devilishly.

Vic's blush burned to a darker shade as she stammered, "F-Fuck, Max! Just say those goddamned words already!" And in a softer, more shy voice she whispered, "I just... I just want to hear them and know this is real." And that's Maximus's signal to quit messing around.

She schooled her face into one of seriousness as she gazed deeply. No more fucking around. "Date me, Vic." Before Vic could answer, Maximus' lips were already on hers. And when she pulled back, she faintly heard the reverent whisper of a "yes" that she pulled from Vic's lips. Maximus licked her lips with pride. "We're gonna fucking rule the world together."

As much as Maximus would have loved to skip to the part where they rule the world, Vic thought it was imperative for them to continue their education and this was non-negotiable. So fast forward to now where they're in college. At least they share an apartment so she thinks it's not all that boring. Maximus still doesn't give a shit about things but Vic does and she makes it a point that Max knows.

"Max, get your lazy ass up already or you'll miss your defense." Vic scolded her for the nth time this past ten minutes. "Don't make me throw water at you because you know I will if you don't get up in the next thirty seconds."

"And ruin the bed? Where ever will we sleep then?" Maximus gasped playfully.

"Obviously I'll be taking the sofa and you'll be sleeping on the cold hard ground. Twenty seconds." Vic tapped her foot irritably by the bedside.

"Hey, don't talk about our floor like that." Maximus pouted. "Besides, it's more comfortable than you think. The coolness is perfect for the summer weather."

"It's officially winter in two weeks. And no, you're not getting any extra blankets to touch our impeccable floor." Vic pushed. "Ten seconds."

"Vic, it's eight in the morning. My defense is at nine. There's no need to rush. Besides, the prof is just as tardy as I am anyways." Maximus reasoned but Vic was having none of that.

"Five seconds, Max." She announced tersely and raised a glass of water threateningly.

Maximus immediately shot up at the last second, reached for the glass and downed the whole drink. "There. Now where's my morning kiss?" She smiled lopsidedly.

"That hardly bears merit for a reward." Vic scoffed as she took the glass and set it aside on the bedside drawer.

Without warning, Maximus leaned forward and pecked her on the lips. "I'm taking it anyways." She grinned toothily.

Vic's already used to Maximus' impulsive displays of affection but she never did learn how to tame her blushes. "You're insufferable." She muttered but not with a small smile.

"That's so sweet of you to say, thank you." Maximus replied with a chuckle that ended shortly when she growled lowly, "So where's my morning makeout session?"

Vic blinked. Her eyes quickly flitted to the clock and then back to her girlfriend, debating. She bit her lower lip in thought as Maximus licked hers in anticipation. Until finally, Vic let out a sigh and leaned forward. "Fuck it. Ten minutes tops."

Maximus just grinned in victory. "Negotiable, right?"

And sure, life was still boring as hell most of the time and Maximus could still never be bothered to make an effort. But it's moments like these that make her consider otherwise. Maximus couldn't care less about anything but Vic worries about everything. Life has been less boring with Vic around and Maximus will do everything within her power to keep this life. Whenever she thinks of Vic, she thinks that maybe she'd like to at least try. Effort has never been her thing but maybe that's just because she didn't have a reason worth it before— before Vic. It's different now and maybe she's changed as well even if only just by a bit.

Maximus puts in a little more effort nowadays and even more so when Vic rewards her.

#lis prompt #maximus caulfield #maximum victory #chasefield #lis #life is strange #max caulfield #victoria chase #whenever i get into a new AU #i like to worldbuild first #so that the next time i write for it #can be full on fluff without distractions #i actually had a different theme/ending in mind #but as i built this it didn't quite fit #maybe i'll just use it in the next one #if there will be a next one #even i don't know what i'll do next

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taiyaki-travels-blog · 7 years ago

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Tokyo day 1:

Today we had brekky at 8:30am and were in taxis on our way to JR Nikko station by 9:30am. We took local trains to get to Tokyo and we switched trains twice along the way, stopping for a quick bite to eat for lunch at Akebane station.

This morning I woke up with a sore throat and it only got worse as the day went on… 風邪をひいてしまいました。I, thankfully, was allocated a single room for tonight’s stay in Ours Inn in Oimachi, meaning that I could have an early night and rest up in preparation for the days ahead.

After checking into our hotels we quickly rushed out to Harajuku for the afternoon, followed by a dinner in Shibuya. I didn’t buy much today, but I was able to show one of my friends around Harajuku and Takeshita Dori and she seemed to have a great time, despite the rain! Along the way, I stopped in at a drug store to try and find something for my sore throat, I was so amazed at the amount of drinks, lozenges, lollies, medicines, and all sorts that were available for a cold and a sore throat. Japan is really ahead of Australia in terms of modern medicine, even Leigh Sensei was put onto some strong antibiotics to kick his cold and they worked practically overnight! No more “let the cold run its course”, it is fixable here in Japan! On a rainy day in Japan, all of the stores provide umbrella rests and umbrella bags for customers in order to keep store clean, this is something that Australia DEFINITELY needs to take on board!

I left dinner early in order to return to the hotel and take my concoction of new cold remedies, hopefully I will wake up tomorrow with less symptoms!

Tokyo day 2:

Today was the day that everyone left for the Ogasawara Archipelago. I chose to stay in Tokyo for those 5 days so I could catch up with my old friends, it was a tough decision to make, especially since the archipelago seemed so beautiful!

I had terrible cold symptoms today and I felt really drained, but I pushed through and trekked on. I left everyone at Shinagawa station and headed off to my Air B&B in Nakano. I was greeted by the dad of the house who had prepared a lovely lunch for me! He spoke in really broken English until he realised that I could understand Japanese, then he completely switched to Japanese. It is always really funny being in a foreign country and having locals figure out how to best talk to you. In a café today I walked up to the cashier and he said “ちょっと待って下さい” and then sent out an English speaking staff member, how then realised I spoke Japanese and served me as per usual. They are very welcoming here in Japan and really try to fill everyone’s needs, but often assume all non-Japanese people do not speak a word of Japanese.

I went back to Shibuya for the afternoon and got a present for my mum and my grandmother, along with some little things for myself. I got myself a pre-made donburi from the supermarket (only $3!) and went home for a night in.

Tokyo day 3:

Day three, and still no signs of slowing down. Today I arranged to meet up with an old friend and go to Ueno Zoo and Shinjuku. The zoo was beautiful and only 600yen to enter! (Meanwhile at $50+ entries in Aus…) My friend and I stopped for lunch and had 回転寿司 which was easily the best sushi I have had in my entire life! We then went to Shinjuku to get some baseball merch for my dad as a gift, and to book off for some cheap, and easy to read, Japanese books. Book off is a second hand book/dvd/game/etc. store which is normally at least 2 floors high and as wide as a maccas. This company also owns many other second hand chain stores such as mode off (for clothing) and hard off (for furniture etc.). These stores make finding cheap and functional items at super low prices, for three new books I only paid 400yen ($4!). I wish Australia was this into reusing/selling items, maybe then we wouldn’t produce so much waste…

We then headed for coffee, and my friend took me on a tour of his university to meet his friends and to have dinner altogether. We went to an 居酒屋for drinks and dinner. Just another lovely day full of memories, friends, and activities. Time for bed!

Tokyo day 4:

Turns out it isn’t just a cold, it is TONSILLITIS!!!! So I went and got some medicine and headed off for a day visiting my old host school from two years ago! The class I was in at that time are now in year 12 and about to graduate. It was so weird to see all of my classmates and friends all grown up and ready for university.

I helps teach some English classes and had a big class party with lots of sweets at lunch. It was such an amazing and nostalgic feeling to be back at Chiyoda, even if they have renovated most areas and even build a whole new building ready for an international school! I also found out that from next year there won’t be any more middle school attachment, and they are making it co-ed! Everyone has such mixed feelings about letting boys into the school, but they need growth so しょうがない.

After a sad goodbye to everyone at the school I headed off to ice skate with my best friend Momo. We hadn’t seen each other in two years, but it only felt like yesterday that we were together. After ice skating we had an udon dinner and wandered for hours as we chatted and reminisced.

I’m now home are ready for a loooooong sleep. I even cancelled my plans for tomorrow in order to rest up and attempt to cure this tonsillitis. Goodnight!

Tokyo day 5:

Today was uneventful, except for the evening.

I spent most of the day lying in bed, resting up to fight the tonsillitis, only making one trip out of the house to get some throat medicine. In the evening I met up with my friend from western Tokyo and we went shopping, took purikura, and had dinner in Shinjuku. Purikura is a photo booth machine that all girls (and boys) use here in Japan. They are normally in game arcades and are a must for any outing. It was wonderful to see my friend all grown up and ready for university, but it was also sad to say goodbye at the end. Bittersweet…

Tokyo day 6:

Today I woke up with a much better throat than the day before. This medicine is working a treat! Today I went back and visited my host family from 2 years ago that welcomed me into their family for 8 months. It was so amazing to see everyone again and they even got a new dog! (Now they have three in one apartment!) It is such a lively household full of laughter and love and it was amazing to go back. When visiting someone’s house in Japan, culturally, taking some sort of おみやげ with you is appropriate. That being said, when I was in Australia I got a personalised Vegemite jar for them as a gift ready to take with me.

Papa drove us all (us all being me, host sister, and host grandma) to Yokohama where we had a delicious lunch in China town, followed my some shopping in the local area. It was a very causal, yet exciting day and once again, saying goodbye was so so hard. It felt like it was just another day with the family, as if I was going to go back home with them and go to school the next day just like two years ago. Time moves so quickly…

Tokyo Day 7:

Today I left my Air B&B, packed up my things, and headed to meet back up with the group. I was actually starting to get a little bit lonely staying by myself for 5 days, so I was really quite excited to see everyone again and start having roommates! I really did love being in a Japanese style home for the past few days though. Living in a narrow townhouse, on a narrow road, in a crowded neighbourhood is the normal lifestyle for most Japanese people that live in the cities. This is quite different to the spacious front and back yards of Australian houses, you would be lucky to even have a pot plant here in Tokyo!

I spent the day at a café waiting around and reading a book before the group arrived back at the hotel from Ogasawara. We then headed out for dinner at an 居酒屋 and headed out for some shopping in Shibuya. The shops here are always open until at least 8pm and normally 10pm every night.

When we got back, I headed down to the 温泉 and relaxed after a long night. Now I am so ready for bed!

Tokyo day 8:

Today was a jam packed day! Most of the day was spent at the magical Disneyland, filled with laughter, food, and friends. After Disneyland, me and some other group members headed out for サイゼリヤ and shopping in Ikebukuro. We saw the famous Pokemon centre, at heaps of food, and got some cute stationary.

Not much to say today, just tired after a long day.

Tokyo day 9:

Today was our trip to 三鷹の森ジブリ美術館. I had been to this museum before, but there are new short films shown all the time that can only be seen there, so I was still excited to go back there! We walked through 井の頭公園 on our way to Ghibli and the 紅葉 was extremely beautiful as the trees here in the Autumn change into really bright reds.

After our afternoon at Ghibli we headed our separate ways to get out own dinners. Me and some group members went to 吉野家 where we got so much food for under $5 each! It is extremely easy to get not only healthy, but substantial sized meals in a hurry here in Japan.

Off to bed now!

Tokyo day 10:

Today was the last full day in Tokyo, and it was also a public holiday! I went and met up with my best friend and we spent the day in Kamakura. This was my first time going to Kamakura, and even a morning of 大雨 did not ruin the experience. Kamakura has a lot of Chinese food, is famous for its しらす, and has lots and lots of mochi. There are also many temples and shrines located in Kamakura and it seems like a very heavily Buddhist influenced city. There are large statues of Buddhas located around the city and no matter where you go, there is either a temple or a shrine within walking distance.

After a day of experiencing Kamakura, of course my friend and I had to take プリクラ. Saying goodbye again to one of my best friends was so insanely hard, but it was a little easier that last time we parted as I am hoping to come back next year.

At night I did some last minute clothes shopping with a group member and then headed off for a night of washing, packing, and sleeping.

Overall, Tokyo is a very very busy city, full of life and adventure. Not the best place if you want to experience the culture of Japan, but definitely full of stuff to experience, see, and do. This city will always have a special place in my heart as I have spent nearly a whole year of my life there, and this is definitely not goodbye, more like see ya later!

#tokyo

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