young royals au where wille, who has just told his parents he plans on abdicating, is looking for a summer job and finds an ad for a football assistant for kids. low and behold it's rosh and rosh doesn't understand what the rich crown prince is doing here but is in desperate need of an assistant. enter rosh's super beautiful, curly-haired best friend simon who comes to watch the kids some times or comes to pick up rosh to hang out. simon is originally unimpressed with the clumsy should-be prince but he can't help but fall for wille when wille is just so cute and is so kind to rosh and is so good with the kids and despite all his self-preservation telling him not to, he falls for wille.
(obviously wille is gone for simon from the moment he first sees him and spends the rest of the time trying to keep simon's attention on him)
and maybe #38 for the lotr characters of your choice (maybe in your summer camp/road trip/grad students AU if you feel so inclined?? But follow your ♥️)
#38 -- until you come back home
i am absolutely inclined to write for that au because i just finished rewatching fellowship and wept a little (read a lot; its been A Week) at the last 40 minutes so my natural instinct was to write something belligerently, intrinsically ridiculous. here is the original fic to which emma is referring and i dont know necessarily how well the prompt was met but it's in there somewhere. thanks homie xxo you always got my back on this verse
Frodo has come to notice that Aragorn has a no-honking-the-van-horn-unless-it's-life-or-death policy, which becomes a point of contention amongst the party when they are trapped in a veritable angry-honk stand off with twenty other cars in a traffic-logged mountain road. Frodo observes this from his spot in the middle row of the van, squashed between Sam and Merry, while Gandalf harrumphs over their upside-down roadmap and everyone in the back -- by which Frodo very much means everyone -- continues to bicker. The volume of said bickering is only slightly better now than about twenty minutes ago, when they had Boromir on speaker phone.
"If the highway's blocked all the way from here to that big Rohan City Stadium --"
"This is the only road with actual pavement though."
"But if it's blocked --"
"Bloody global warming. This isn't natural, you know? This kind of rainstorm, in June?"
"Actually," says Legolas's voice, "it's hailing. This is a hail storm."
He says this as the torrentious patter of rain on the roof of the van above their heads turns somewhat more violent.
Eowyn groans and buries her face in her hands. Frodo supposes she's every right to groan, as her legs are squashed in between Gimli, who is continuing to decry the climate crisis, and Faramir's knapsack of snacks, which in his defense he is holding mostly atop his own person, but it's so large that it leans a bit onto Eowyn too. Sam is playing xs and os against himself by drawing invisible lines on his knee and Merry has his cheek squashed against his hand and keeps sighing loudly every five minutes. Pippin's fast asleep and snoring.
Up at the front of the car, Aragorn remains staring determinedly at nearly invisible the road -- the view from the windshield is Abstract Grey Haze -- Gandalf remains muttering over their map, and Arwen, who gets carsick when the weather is like this, remains morosely in the middle seat, her head resting quietly against the driver's shoulder.
The cacophony of honking cars continues around them, as does the storm. The road really is well and truly blocked. Frodo thinks a big tree might have knocked down onto it. And perhaps something about power lines.
Giving Sam a significant Look, he unclips his seatbelt and scoots up to peak between the drivers' seats. The stereo is playing Joni Mitchel at very low volume. Frodo wonders if perhaps it isn't Uncle Bilbo's old CD, donated righteously to the cause.
"What do they think they're achieving, honking the horns?" Frodo wonders aloud, as another obnoxious beep sounds.
"Satisfying their own frustrations," Aragorn offers, without much judgment. He taps his fingers against the wheel and adjusts the rearview mirror, which has a dried bundle of lavender hanging from it. He's pulled his hoodie over his hair to keep from getting cold, as the window has been cracked open for Arwen's sake. Yet another car horn screeches, quite close to them this time; Arwen grimaces and Aragorn's expression turns very slightly grim.
"Will we really have to go back?" Frodo asks, very quietly. Gimli keeps talking about the old highway tunnel his cousin built. But that's nearly a day's drive from here, still.
"Harrumph," is all Gandalf says, and turns the map over a third time; Frodo looks at Aragorn.
"There's a sign that says falling rocks ahead," he says, as quiet as Frodo had been. "I don't like the idea of that."
"Harrumph," says Gandalf again, more forcefully. He takes a puff of his e-cigarette. The windshield wipers squeak a bit on their next routine whub across.
Frodo sighs. Wriggling a little, he reaches into the front pocket of his t-shirt and pulls out the USB drive. This is an awful lot of misery just to potentially save the environment.
"What do you think, Frodo?" asks Aragorn. For the first time all afternoon he has taken his eyes off the road and is looking at Frodo.
On the one hand, Frodo thinks, if they go back, it will be at least another few days added to the number of days before they can go home. But if they stay here in this hail storm -- well. Road safety is very important, Frodo's always thought. He's sure Sam's gaffer would agree. He's not wholly sure Uncle Bilbo would agree, but then, he is not in the van.
Aragorn gives Gandalf a significant look -- of a different flavour from that which Frodo offered Sam earlier -- over the top of Arwen's head, when Frodo expresses this. Gandalf looks terribly aggrieved. But then he looks at Frodo and he says,
"Yes, alright."
With a hard yank their van swerves out of the lane and into the opposite one (there is a series of loud cries and intermingled oofs from the back) which is just soon enough to miss the fender bender behind them. They spray hail-water and nearly get clipped by a giant oncoming semi truck, but that collision's averted; with a decisive, sure palm, Aragorn slams the car horn, so long and loud that Pippin all but yelps awake.
Frodo scoots back over to Sam, and they begin playing xs and os together.
"Warmer weather, here we come!" Gimli declares happily from the back.
"Mosquitoes live in warm weather," Legolas supplies helpfully. "They're big carriers of West Nile this season."
As the worst of the storm is left behind them, Eowyn groans again.
