An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: when you were young
Fandom: Check, Please!
Length: 1601 words, 1/1 chapters
Rating: G
Pairing: Jack Zimmermann/Kent “Parse” Parson
Tags: Jack is an Ace, Age Regression/De-Aging
A/N: for the @pimmsweek prompt: “younger”
Summary:
“Toxic” by Brittany Spears blasts into the blissful silence and Jack blinks blearily awake, fumbling at his bedside table for his phone.
That’s the last time he’s giving Kent his phone to look for directions...
He squints at his phone and … and why is Mercy calling him at six o’clock in the morning?
He clicks the green button then puts Mercy on speaker, falling back onto his pillow and closing his eyes again.
“Someone had better be dead or dying,” Jack mumbles.
for @pimmsweek day two: “spite” | read on ao3
rating: g | pairing: kent/jack | tags: juniors, angst
Practice had officially ended a while ago, but Kent is still on the ice practicing trick shots against an empty net. Across the rink, Jack is running some passing drills with a couple of the younger guys—the really eager ones who saw the “C” on the front of Jack’s jersey and the name on the back, and looked at him like he was some kind of god.
The clink of the post as Kent nails the bar down is music to his ears.
He gets a few more shots in before someone taps at his shoulder. It’s Jack, peering down at him with that little frown and the wrinkle between his brows that Kent knows means nothing good.
“What are you doing?” Jack says, voice clipped.
Kent frowns. “Accuracy practice?” he tries.
Jack doesn’t look impressed. "Why weren’t you helping me run the drills?” he asks.
“Uhh, practice was over, dude. Why were you even running drills in the first place?” Kent counters.
Jack’s eyes narrow. “Bates wanted to practice some stick handling, so Williams and Rodriguez stuck around too.” He pauses and Kent knows this is gonna be good. “It’s not a good look when your alternate captain is goofing off while you’re trying to teach some core skills to the new guys.”
Anger flashes up, red and hot. It’s an argument they’ve had before and Kent is sick of it. “Oh, so it’s all about appearances, eh?”
“Of course it is,” Jack snaps. Kent watches as Jack’s jaw clenches and unclenches, and he feels a sick sort of pride that he’s managed to rile Jack up with just a few words. They had always been so good at getting under each other’s skin.
“Of course it is,” Jack repeats, after taking a steadying breath. “We’re the leaders of this team. You’re a leader on this team. You should act like it.”
“Oh, fuck off. It’s not like I had the “A” handed to me. We all know you’re the future of hockey or what the fuck ever, but some of us have to earn our letters.”
Jack goes impossibly still and there's a sharp twinge in Kent's chest—he knows he fucked up.
“Jack, I—”
“No, you know what?” Jack interjects. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe people see the name on my jersey and think a certain thing about me. But do you know what they’ll definitely see? They’ll see a player that worked his ass off to get to where he is, because maybe a name got me in the door but a name doesn’t lead the league in points. A name doesn’t have the plus-minus, or the shots on goal, or the time on ice. I do. Not my dad. Me.”
Jack takes a deep breath and Kent can barely hear it shake.
“I earned my letter, Kent, but you? What have you done other than ride on my coattails?”
Kent explodes. Ride on Jack’s coattails? Is he serious? Kent snarls, shoving forward into Jack’s space. “Where do you get off telling me—”
“Boys.” Bluesy’s voice echoes through the rink and Kent slinks back from Jack like he’s been scalded, retort fizzling on his breath. He glances towards Bluesy, who is still in the bottom half of his goalie pads, before ducking his head.
“Coach wants to see you. He’s in his office.” Bluesy pauses. “Everything good?”
“Yeah,” Jack says. His voice is back to that unaffected neutral, but the color is still high on his cheeks. “Everything’s fine.”
There are so many more things Kent has to say, but Jack skates towards the bench without even glancing at him and all he can do is follow, eyes fixed down so Bluesy can’t see the fury written across his face.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: 'cause i’m a little unsteady
Fandom: Check, Please!
Length: 1487 words, 1/1 chapters
Rating: E
Pairing: Alexei “Tater” Mashkov/Kent “Parse” Parson
Tags: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, hand jobs
A/N: This has everything you’d expect to see in a self-indulgent Courtney fic: soft hockey boys, hurt/comfort, goalie love, blackh*wk hate, sleepy makeouts, absolutely tooth-rotting fluff……what more could you want?
Summary:
Kent wants to scream.
Seven-zero.
Seven-zero.
Against the Blackhawks.
If he ever sees that self-satisfied smirk on Patrick Kane’s face again, he’ll smack it off.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Title: i don’t bite but i heard you might
Fandom: Check, Please!
Length: 2267 words, 1/1 chapters
Rating: E
Pairing: Alexei “Tater” Mashkov/Kent “Parse” Parson
Tags: Dom/sub undertones, kneeling, blood, hockey fights, established relationship, porn with plot
A/N: Sometimes you have to write 2k of patater smut to procrastinate writing your novel length fic ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Summary:
“And then that beast of a d-man almost decapitates Spence and we don’t get a goalie interference call? It’s absolute bullshit, is what it is. And people think we’re the dirty team. Their captain crosschecked a nineteen-year-old in the head. Talk about class.”
Kent doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten to Alexei until he’s peering up at him.
“Done?” Alexei asks.
“Uhhhh,” Kent replies dumbly.
Alexei nods. He brings his hand up to Kent’s chin again and this time Kent lets him. He runs his thumb across the bruise forming on Kent’s cheek, the cut on his lip.“Next time we play Aeros, I show Hendrick what happens when you play like rat,” Alexei says matter-of-factly, eyes darkening in a way that makes Kent’s stomach flip. He cups Kent’s cheek and presses a kiss to his sweat-slicked forehead. “Go. Show them how real captain plays.”
Bob and Alicia visiting Jack as a surprise one day but they end up spending the day with Bitty, Jack had practice and Bitty was the only one in the apartment. ❤❤❤
+ family dinner with zimbits, alicia, and bob maybe??( @gaydiesaster )
“Hey, sugar, show me all your love, all you’re giving me is friction—”
Bitty’s dancing around the kitchen as he sings, a bowl of batter in one arm and a whisk in the other. He’s working on perfecting a maple bourbon apple tart recipe and he thinks he’s almost got it down; the flavors on the last batch weren’t quite right, but he’s adjusted the ratio of bourbon to maple syrup on this one and he thinks they’ll blend together much more smoothly. And if they don’t, well, then the tarts will end up tasting more like maple than apples or bourbon and it’s not like that was ever a bad thing.
There’s a knock at the door and Bitty almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of Neon Trees blasting over the speakers. He drops the whisk into the bowl and scrambles for his phone, dropping the volume by a few (dozen) notches. He absently continues to hum along while undoing the deadbolt and coming face to face with—
Pairing: Vax’ildan/Percy De Rolo
Rating: M
Tags: n/a
A/N: This has been in my drafts for literally ten months ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Vax’s teeth on his neck send a spark of arousal rushing through his veins.
Percy moans quietly, hands ghosting down the half-elf’s sides and finding purchase on his narrow waist before pushing him back with enough force that the bed creaks as Vax lands on it.
“Percival,” Vax smirks, but before he can continue the thought, Percy straddles him and kisses him hard enough to bruise. Vax makes a small noise, tugging at Percy’s bottom lip with his teeth.
Percy begins to kiss down Vax’s neck, down his chest, and the half-elf’s quiet gasps are more beautiful than the finest song.
But there’s something ... not quite right with Vax’s tone ...
Percy starts awake and bolts upright. His glasses are askew and there’s a piece of paper stuck to his face. The paper dislodges and flutters back down to his workbench.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Vax chirps from Percy’s left.
Percy starts again, almost falling out of his chair, before leveling Vax with a look that he hopes reads as ‘vaguely annoyed’ and not ‘residually aroused’. Vax returns the look with an amused grin.
“Lunch is ready. We’re going to the market after if you want to tag along,” Vax quips. His eyes wander to survey the organized chaos that is Percy’s workshop. “Although I’m fairly certain you own everything there is and have managed to cram it all into this room ...”
“Funny,” Percy deadpans, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. He shifts slightly in his seat.
“Anyway,” Vax turns his attention back to Percy. “You should come upstairs. Vex was asking for you. Something about a new explosive arrow you made her.” He pauses and waits expectantly for Percy to stand up and follow him.
“I’ll be right up,” Percy replies, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too strained.
Vax hums to himself and dips his head, before turning to head out. “Don’t keep Vex waiting too long,” he calls without looking back. “I’d really prefer it if she didn’t blow up the keep.”
As he watches Vax leave, Percy’s hand goes absently to his neck.
Pairing: Vax’ildan/Percy De Rolo
Rating: M
Tags: Angst, Unrequited, Pining, Accidental Voyeurism
A/N: When will I stop shipping rare-pairs? (hint: never)
Summary: Percy had been taught how to dance as a child, but he’d been taught court-appropriate dances, how to keep a polite distance from a partner, how to lead in a waltz. This, with Vax's hips dangerously close to his, with his lips just an inch from the half-elf’s throat?
If only his mother could see him now.
(read on AO3)
Vax, Scanlan, and Grog had dragged Percy to a bar in the heart of the city, citing something along the lines of ‘boys’ night out’ as an excuse to haul Percy out of his workshop.
Percy had been resistant at first, but a few drinks in and he was feeling a bit more amenable.
A company of bards playing in the corner added to the raucous atmosphere in the bar. In another corner, several people were huddled around a table watching what must have been an exceedingly interesting card game. In the center of the floor, bar-goers had shoved away tables and chairs to create a makeshift dance floor.
Scanlan looked like he was having the time of his life as the focus of the attention of a trio of half-elves, Grog seemed to be arm-wrestling a dwarf, and Vax was doing shots with a human. Percy was more than content to nurse his gin and watch his friends enjoy themselves.
The song changed and there was a chorus of cheers from the audience. He turned to glance towards the bards when out of nowhere, Vax’s breath ghosted on his neck.
“Dance with me,” the half-elf grinned, his mouth brushing the curve of Percy’s ear. The hairs on the back of Percy’s neck stood up. Vax’s eyes glittered in the low light.
“Come on, Freddie, you know you want to,” Vax went on before Percy could protest, taking a step back and tugging at Percy’s free wrist. Vax’s eyes were teasing and Percy’s stomach twisted, but he hid it with a smile. Any protests died on his lips. He could never say no to Vax, especially not when he was like this.
Percy followed Vax onto the dance floor and it was more crowded than it had seemed from the bar. The crush of bodies pressed him closer to Vax than he probably should have been but Vax only grinned and looped his fingers around Percy’s neck. Hesitantly, Percy rested his hands on Vax’s waist.
“Don’t be so stiff, you giant oaf,” Vax grinned, tugging Percy closer and bobbing loosely to the music.
Percy had been taught how to dance as a child, but he’d been taught court-appropriate dances, how to keep a polite distance from a partner, how to lead in a waltz. This, with Vax's hips dangerously close to his, with his lips just an inch from the half-elf’s throat?
If only his mother could see him now.
The song was over too soon. The crowd shifted around them as the bards took a quick break to knock back a few shots and Vax lead Percy back to the spot at the bar where he’d found him. As they walked, Vax slung an arm around Percy’s shoulders and gave him a quick shake before dropping his arm. Vax was grinning again in that infuriating way that made Percy want to shove him up against a wall and kiss him until his lungs were burning, to kneel before him and suck him off and make him come with Percy’s name on those pretty lips.
“Thanks for the dance.” Vax’s voice broke Percy’s train of thought. Two drinks had appeared on the bar in front of them, and Vax slid one to Percy. “I know how much it pains you to enjoy yourself,” Vax teased before taking a sip of his drink.
For you, I would dance my way through a thousand bars, Percy wanted to say.
Whenever I’m with you, my soul feels lighter, Percy wanted to say.
I see my entire future in your smile, Percy wanted to say.
“I can enjoy myself plenty from the bar,” Percy said, taking a sip of the drink in front of him. It burned all the way down.
Vax laughed and clapped him on the back. “You do that then,” he said, slapping a silver on the counter. “Next few are on me.” Vax turned his head, listening to something that Percy couldn’t hear. “I’m going to find Scanlan,” he said, raising his voice slightly to account for the sudden uptick in noise as the company of bards started playing again.
And just like that, Percy was left with a drink, a silver, and an all too familiar gnawing in his stomach.
Percy wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but his cheeks were pleasantly warm and the bar was getting stuffy. He set a few coppers on the counter before he stood and scanned the room. Grog and Scanlan were socializing with the bard company, but Vax was nowhere to be found. Percy considered making his way to Grog and Scanlan but the thought of shoving his way through that dance floor again made his head spin.
Instead, Percy made his way towards the back exit of the bar to clear his head.
The alley behind the bar was swathed in shadow. Percy inhaled slowly. The chilly night air pooled deep in his lungs, grounding him.
He was just about to head back inside when he heard a breathy gasp and a giggle from a few paces down the alley jutting off to the left, just on the edge of Percy’s vision. His eyes snapped to the noise on reflex.
There were two figures, two men, standing in profile to Percy. One was leaning against the wall with his head thrown back and his fingers threaded through the other’s hair. The second was on his knees, unlacing the first’s trousers, before pressing a kiss to the now bare skin of his hip.
“You like that?” asked the kneeling figure. His voice was too familiar but Percy wouldn’t let it be. Percy’s traitorous feet took a step forward.
“Yeah, I like that,” the standing figure growled, tightening his hand in the other’s hair and tugging.
Catching the hint, the kneeler licked up the shaft of the other’s half-hard cock and pressed his thumbs into the man’s hips. He swallowed around the man’s cock, bringing a hand to grasp the base, and the standing man exhaled shakily. Percy watched, transfixed.
The door opened from behind Percy and for a heartbeat, the light from the bar illuminated the scene with stark clarity. It was Vax on his knees and the man with his cock down Vax’s throat was that human from the bar, the one Vax had been doing shots with earlier.
Percy should have known, he should have known —
His train of thought was broken as he was jostled by the group that had opened the door – a group of four or five laughing wood elves – as they made their way down the alley to the right and out onto the main street. Completely oblivious.
Vax whined, the human moaned, and Percy felt heat rush to his cheeks as a sick combination of jealousy, shame, and arousal coursed through his veins.
It was enough to shock Percy into action and he tore his eyes away from the pair. He shook his head as if that would clear the sight. When it didn’t, he took off down the alley towards the street and let himself be enveloped by the throng of pedestrians as he made his way back to the Keep.
That night, if Percy breathed Vax’s name when he came quietly into his hand, he didn’t dwell on it.
i.
you’re in love with a boy with glass for a heart and a time bomb ticking away behind his eyes. you think he’ll shatter if you touch him. you think he’ll shatter if you don’t.
ii.
his hands are rough and bloody, and his eyes are cold, cold, cold. the smoke that trickles out of his mouth fades into the night. when he smiles, you can see the glass peeking through.
iii.
you try to fix him with duct tape, with resin, with glue. he lets you and for a while, you think you’ve pieced him together for good.
iv.
the bomb goes off when you least expect it. his eyes aren’t cold anymore. his hands aren’t bloody. you take a fragment through the chest and now you’re the one coughing up blood.
v.
you’re in love with a boy with hollow eyes and a heart made of gunpowder. his hands are rough in yours and when he smiles, you still see glass peeking through. you know better than to try to fix him. the bomb’s gone off and all that’s left to do is gather up the ashes.
He's found the key to immortality,
he thinks, but he's thrown it to the wind.
The Earth is not meant for him, it whispers,
but among the stars, oh, how he could soar.
That night at the bar – his face as battered
as his heart – he thinks about life and how
his means nothing. Maybe he loves it. The
empty bar mocks him. Maybe he doesn't.
(Maybe he’s worth more than bottom-shelf gin
and a childhood that was never his.)
He's found the key to immortality,
he thinks, but this time he clings,
takes it by the reins and calls it his,
builds a family from the ground up
out of people as fractured as he was,
and watches as they learn to soar.
When they find their place among the stars,
for the first time in a long time, he’s home.
—CMG
