#roaring 20s rarepair

[stanningjay2]

Today is the final chapter! I also posted a smutty epilogue as a treat. I was going to wait to share that but I couldn’t wait 😂

Click below if you’d like to start from the beginning

England Keep My Bones

I really hope that @everythinghappens-love enjoyed this story & thanks so much to @bobbimorseisbisexual for organizing this awesome exchange!

#lance hunter #leopold fitz #fitzhunter #aos roaring 20s rarepair exchange #roaring 20s rarepair #agents of shield #fic #ekmb #england keep my bones #1920s AU

[bobbiamorse]

Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange Masterpost!

Thanks for your participation ladies, gents, and those of us who know better! Thank you for making this rarepair exchange one to remember, and an ultra-big thanks to all my lovely pinch hitters. <3 The Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange features 19 fics for 12 different ships - check them out below!

A Flare for the Romantic by @agentemo - Scis and Spies, T, 2.5k and maybe learn how to somehow be loved myself by @bobbimorseisbisexual - Scis and Spies, T, 2.7k building castles in the air by @accio-the-force - Scis and Spies, T, 1.1k Dinner or Dessert by @libbyweasley - Simmorse, M, 1.3k Drag Me Into Your Arms by @cminerva - Legacyrider, T, 1.5k England Keep My Bones by @stanningjay - Fitzhunter, M, 25.4k I’ll colour me blue (only see myself when i’m looking up at you) by @the-dc-killjoy - Maybobbi, T, 2.8k In Bloom by @sunalsolove - Maydaisy, T, 1.4k Just the Three of Us by @soulofevil - Legacyquakerider, T, 2k Neapolitan ice-cream by @florchis - Fitzskimmons, G, 3.1k Now fill the world with music, love, and pride by @loved-the-stars-too-fondly - Pipsy, G, 3.9k On the Road by @ready-to-kick-some-ass - Fitzhunter, G, 1.9k Roadside Attraction by @robotgort - Tripdaisy, G, 3.6k small offerings by @apathbacktoyou - Karaina, T, 1.1k Something There by @libbyweasley - Meldrew, T, 1.6k Tea or Coffee by @agentofship - Legacyquakerider, T, 2k that’s what friends are for by @apathbacktoyou - Legacyrider, T, 1.3k The Jacks and the Gentlemen by @theclaravoyant - Scis and Spies, T, 3.7k Whatever it Takes by @ready-to-kick-some-ass - Fitzskimmons, T, 1.4k

#roaring 20s rarepair exchange

[agentofship]

Tea or Coffee

Happy rarepair exchange day @whistlingwindtree​ <3 Hope you like my little take on this ship <3 Pairing: LegacyQuakeRider Rated T, 2000 words Summary: Daisy has been having a hard time choosing between her two crushes... but maybe she doesn't have to. Beta’d by the wonderful @libbyweasley​ <3 "Welcome to The Playground. What can I do for you today– Oh hi!" Daisy's lips pulled up automatically at the sight of her favorite customer. "Good morning sunshine," Trip said in that warm, musical voice that almost made it worth it to be up so early on a Saturday. He was coming in for his usual post-workout breakfast wearing those grey tracksuit pants and sweatshirt that made her want to cuddle up to him and press her face against his nicely muscled chest. "Can I get my usual, please?" "Don't want to try a muffin this morning? Triple chocolate and still warm from the oven," she said, waggling her eyebrows. He chuckled as he shook his head. "I told you none of that sugar is going into the temple. Stop trying to tempt me." He shot her one of those extra charming smiles that always made her blush. "Not with muffins at least." Read on AO3

#legacyquakerider #roaring 20s rarepair exchange #team earth aos #earth vs space #aosficnet2 #aos fanfic #coffee shop AU

[libbyweasley]

Dinner or Dessert?

Written for @stanningjay​ for the Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange for the prompt “mess in the kitchen.” I had a lot of fun with this!

A big thanks to the amazing @blancasplayground​ and @agentofship​ for their help! They always make all my words so much better <3  And to the wonderful @bobbimorseisbisexual​ for running the exchange!

Bobbi comes home from her first day teaching high school biology and finds a surprise from Jemma.  

Rated - M

Words ~1300

Read on AO3

#roaring 20s rarepair exchange #simmorse #jemma simmons #bobbi morse #aos fanfic #non-shield au #happy girlfriends #sexy domestic fluff

[theclaravoyant]

AN ~ At long last; a *very* belated Roaring Twenties Rarepair Exchange gift for the amazing @bobbimorseisbisexual (lazyfish), who prompted “Scis & Spies + Regency AU".

This fic was inspired by the show Gentleman Jack, which is technically set in the Georgian era but it's pretty close! It’s also the longest thing I’ve written in like a year, and my first ever S&S fic! Though it may not be apparent from the appalling lateness, I had a great time writing this; I hope you enjoy it too <3

Rated T. Mostly fluffy. Relationships: Scis & Spies (Bobbi x Simmons x Fitz x Hunter, polyamory)

Read on AO3 (3800wd)

The Jacks and the Gentlemen

Barbara Elizabeth Morse was a woman of a peculiar kind. She always had been.

Ever since she had developed the capacity to loathe things, for example, Barbara had loathed her name; in particular, the foremost. But the fact that she insisted on being addressed as “Bobbi” instead was merely the first in a long line of deviations she took from the expected norm of her assigned sex so that by young adulthood, she had permanently marked herself as quite the oddity.

Growing up, Bobbi had no interest in the banal niceties expected of a woman of her station, and less than none in frills and petticoats or tending house. Even learning the arts and languages and traipsing around her family’s estate on horseback became dull and boring after a time. What was the point after all, Bobbi reasoned, of broadening one’s horizons if one was only permitted to gaze at them from the safety and mundanity of one’s lace-curtained bedroom window? What was the point of developing a sharp mind if it was allowed only to consume and perform as it had been told? It was a gilded cage to be sure, but a cage nonetheless, and so Bobbi dedicated much of her life to spreading her wings and flying free of it.

To this end – and despite much protest from her hand-wringing family - Bobbi left the comforting cloister of her estate and travelled the world; whereupon she discovered and indulged in many a fascination that had been denied her for so much of her young life. She experimented with tailored coats and hats, trousers, cravats… She studied science and medicine, biology, strategy… She delighted in romantic challenge and chase and left many a heart broken in her wake. She was even married for a time, to a disgruntled British naval officer, but it didn’t stick. Few things did as, quite the opposite of bored, Bobbi became rather restless; all but consumed by the need to discover what the world held in store for her.

When came the news that she had to return home, it was devastating. Without the benefit of hindsight, it hardly seemed to Bobbi that there could be a new and equally enticing journey about to begin. Yet, she had never been one to be cowed by things not going her way, and so she held her head high – a little too high, perhaps, when she insisted upon driving the carriage home herself; fearing, not that she would admit it, that her recently-returned nightmares of the carriage walls closing in around her would finally come true.

Bobbi endured the talk of her home town with as much dignity as she could muster – and as both a woman of high class and exceeding stoicism, that amount was not insignificant. Still, she could not entirely pretend, to herself at least, that it did not bother her; the way they all seemed to talk about her as though she was the small one, the poorly achieving one, having done nothing with her life but travel and dabble in knowledge after knowledge. Even the ones she thought might understand seemed to be hopeful that her return was a sign she was ready to settle down, and the more times this was insinuated, the more Bobbi wanted to cut off her own hair, denounce all civilisation, and steal away into the night. She had the skills and the courage to do it now. The only thing stopping her was the need to rebuild her estate before her family’s finances collapsed entirely and left a few dozen good people out of work and home.

… Although, if she were being completely honest, it did not hurt matters that she had also been invited for tea with the newest and most curious of her neighbours, one Miss Jemma Anne Simmons.

Miss Simmons was a pretty young woman, but her arrival was making a splash in the papers as much for her scientific mind as for her elusive inventor fiancé, and her appearance of apparently Shakespearean beauty. So, as much as Bobbi had been weighed down by tired social occasion after tired social occasion with the socialites that flittered through town on the ever-changing wealth of this new age of industrialisation, she had a feeling in her gut that this one was going to be different.

That feeling certainly was not nerves, Bobbi insisted to herself as she stepped over the threshold of the Fitz-Simmons house – and then again, as she was announced and ushered into the parlour, to find Jemma in all the resplendent glory the papers had promised. The woman seemed delicate, refined, and delightfully feminine in all the ways Bobbi knew she herself was not and Bobbi – who had always been a rather brash sort – felt herself oddly humbled by Jemma’s smile.

“Good afternoon,” Jemma greeted, “it’s Barbara, isn’t it?”

Bobbi couldn’t help but cringe. “Please,” she requested, “call me Bobbi.”

“Oh yes, of course. My apologies.” Jemma curtsied a little – and was that a blush? “It’s lovely to have you, Bobbi. Would you care for some tea? Of if you would prefer, I can send for coffee…”

She reached for the bell, but Bobbi raised a hand to stop her.

“Tea would be wonderful,” she agreed. “Young Hyson, if you have it - black, with no sugar. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Jemma nodded, and began to pour. And yes, that was definitely a blush. Bobbi was even feeling a whisper of her own as Jemma added – as if she was trying to hide how desperately she wished Bobbi to acquiesce –

“I wonder if we might take tea outside this afternoon. I’ve been positively beleaguered with meetings today and I must see to my plants.”

A woman after her own heart. Bobbi smiled.

“Of course. We should stretch our legs after all.”

“Then it is decided.”

Bobbi’s heart dared to flutter in her chest as Jemma’s cautious hostess’ smile erupted into a beaming grin. The woman took hold of her skirts – revealing boots much like Bobbi’s own, rather than slippers that might have matched her otherwise refined ensemble – and took off out of the parlour door with great gusto. Finding herself drawn to follow, this time undeniably by more than her botanist’s interest alone, Bobbi strode after Jemma as best she could while reeling at her own spoonishness.

As they traipsed across the lawn, Bobbi marvelled in the delight Jemma seemed take at being out of doors, and drank in the prelude to the greenhouse – half snatched away by the wind though it was – with which the other woman was regaling her. Bobbi found herself entranced by Jemma’s spirited expression; the way she revelled in the trials and tribulations of seeking and transporting her large collection of exotics, unfazed even as the wind began to pull locks of her perfect hair from its arrangement and blow them unceremoniously into her face. And then –

“Oh, excuse me, Bobbi,” Jemma pleaded, and her expression narrowed into a scolding sort of glare. Bobbi followed the line of it and saw a ladder propped against the side of what appeared to be a disused chicken coop, and a figure hunched atop the rickety roof in an overcoat and goggles, fixing some contraption or other to the highest point of the pitch.

“Ho, Fitz!” Jemma hollered, as the figure lost hold of a tool and it fell to the dirt. He cursed.

“That’s Fitz?” Bobbi blurted. “Your Fitz?”

“You sound surprised,” Jemma noted.

“I meant no offence, it’s just – I’ve met quite a few of these entrepreneurial types and generally they’re rather… obnoxious.”

Jemma scoffed. “Oh, believe me: he’s plenty obnoxious.”

Resolute, she handed her cup of tea to Bobbi, hitched her skirt up a little higher with both hands and made a bee-line for the chicken coop, until she was close enough that her boots were in the muck.

“Fitz!” she called again.

“Yes, love?”

Fitz’s head jerked up at the call, and he saw her and Bobbi and apparently not the loose tile on which he had stepped. Before he could do any more than yelp in surprise, he had slipped and fallen flat on his back, coughing and spluttering and winded. His curls looked madder than ever as he lay there in resignation, and spat a soiled feather from his pouting mouth.

“Ugh, Fitz!” Jemma lamented. She locked an arm with her fiancé and hauled him out of the sludge. “I told you to wait until Mack could come down and help with all this.”

“Mack and I are building the mechanical milling machine,” Fitz corrected. “This is a sonic fox repellent. It’s just a prototype but – Oh, sorry. I’m Fitz, by the way. Leopold Fitz, technically, but please don’t call me that.”

“Barbara Morse, technically,” Bobbi greeted. “But please don’t call me that either. I prefer Bobbi. Sonic fox repellent, you say? Let me know if it works – I might have to purchase a couple for myself.”

“Well, uh, thank you, but um –“

“But Mack will be here any minute, dear,” Jemma interrupted, waving Fitz toward the house. “Go and clean up now. Go! Honestly.”

“Yes, dear.” Fitz rolled his eyes, but smiled at his fussing fiancé as he retreated toward the house. Jemma slogged the rest of the way to the chicken coop and retrieved the screwdriver he had dropped, setting it on a step of the nearby ladder in case he went looking for it later. Bobbi looked on with nought to do but hold the two teacups steady, and she was a little surprised to find that despite what perhaps should have been a heart-wrenching reality check - to discover that the most recent object of her affection was indeed happy with someone else - Bobbi felt nothing but delight. No jealousy, no despair. And, if anything, a redoubled sense of yearning.

“Sorry about him,” Jemma apologised as she returned to Bobbi’s side to fetch her tea. “He’s a lovely man, really, and very intelligent, but he’s not accustomed to being complimented by beautiful women.”

“Well, with you around you think he’d be used to it by now.”

Jemma laughed, and raised an eyebrow as she took a sip. “Careful, Ms. Morse, you’ll give a lady ideas.”

The delivery of it was coquettish, light-hearted, but still Bobbi couldn’t help feeling that she’d crossed a line. She thought of poor sweet Fitz, and her heart sunk.

“I- I’m sorry, Miss Simmons. I meant nothing of it. Just that… Mr Fitz is a very lucky man.”

Seeing that she had sent Bobbi skittering, Jemma hurried to backtrack so emphatically that she almost spilled her tea.

“Oh, please! No need to apologise, it is all in good spirit – It was I who misspoke without the proper context. You see, Bobbi – may I still call you Bobbi? – your reputation precedes you in this regard but perhaps mine does not. Oh, dear.” Flustered, Jemma paused to gather herself and suddenly wished very dearly for a side table on which to deposit the lukewarm, useless beverage in her hands. “You see, I have been known to uh, entertain the attentions of the fairer sex myself. Not only am I not in the slightest offended by your perfectly innocent compliment, but I- I’m afraid I must confess I’d rather hoped you were being flirtatious.”

Bobbi gaped. “But… Fitz? I couldn’t. You’re engaged. It’s- it would be-”

“Fitz and I have an understanding,” Jemma clarified. At least, she phrased it like it was a clarification, but Bobbi only stumbled deeper into her confusion. She’d only seen the pair interact for a few odd minutes and already the connection was clear.

“He doesn’t- He’s not in love with you?” That man? Are you sure? Perhaps she would have to rethink her own calibration for stoicism if he had managed to keep that a secret.

Jemma shook her head.

“I’m not explaining this right. It never comes out simply, does it?” She clicked her tongue, tutting to herself as if musing on a new location for a particular pot, and not resolving the several short circuits sparking off inside Bobbi’s mind right now. It seemed like hours before she finally began again to explain:

“Fitz and I have been friends for the longest time,” she said. “As we grew and discovered that each of us had rather taken to those of our own sex we thought, if we were to live and love as our true selves well then, why not make it a marriage of convenience? Of course, he went and fell in love with me, didn’t he – and I him, do not misunderstand me: by some very blessed coincidence, we are very much in love. But our arrangement still stands. Fitz would not take offence in the slightest if you and I were to… explore any possibilities that may… arise.”

“…Right.”

“I can see that you need some more time to process,” Jemma observed. “Well, if I haven’t scared you off entirely – let’s say no more of it, for now. Come. Let me show you the greenhouse.”

They said no more of it for the rest of the afternoon, and for several days after that. They wrote little notes back and forth, about tea and chickens and foxes and plants, and very much not about the other topic of the day. Jemma waited for Bobbi to broach it and Bobbi – despite thinking about the arrangement with increasing regularity as time went on – dared not. The exact reason for it eluded her; did she fear that perhaps she had misread something, and that Jemma had not in fact, meant what she had said after all? Did she fear being the other woman – as she had been asked and offered many a time by men and women alike who did not have such an arrangement with their partners? Or did she fear the opposite instead; that she had finally found someone as unusual and brilliant and queer in every way as she herself was? Perhaps even two someones?

No doubt, there was some combination of all three tangled up in this knot in her chest, but it was the latter that kept Bobbi going to her desk in the middle of the night, pulling out a pen and paper, and not… quite… putting… the words down.

Or putting them down, and crossing them out.

Or putting them down, and throwing them in the fire.

As she watched the pages curl and blacken, Bobbi could taste the bitter memory of the last time she’d found herself in such a position. She had few regrets in her life, but one of them was that day; the day she’d let (or rather, driven) her former husband’s last words to her fall into the fire. There had been a lot more anger involved that time around, she recalled, and no shortage of jabbing at sparks with the fire iron, to make sure she’d got every last bit. This time, it felt like a step in the wrong direction. Like she was waiting to release the breath she was holding, or for the knot in her chest to untie and it never would.

I fear I must, were the last words she could discern now, from the letter she had burnt. She reached for the poker with a tremor in her fingers, and gritted her teeth. One good jab, and it would all be over. Then again, there was a blank spot just there. She could save it, if she were careful – and quick, as the words were already shrinking before her eyes.

I fear I  

I fear

Fear  

And then they were gone. And her breath was still caught in her chest but she lifted her head. She may have burned her bridges with the Midshipman after all, but she could still remember that infuriatingly rakish daredevil smile of his.

“Come on, love,” he used to like challenging her. “A little fear is nothing to be afraid of.”

It was something that had always bound them; the rush of taking risks, the revelling in new horizons. It was every reason she had to have left her home in the first place; perhaps that was what had made their relationship last so long, despite the warning signs. And as Bobbi reflected upon this image of herself, kneeling at her hearth, clutching a fire poker with a shaking hand at some unearthly hour in the morning - and not for the first time at that - she had to laugh. This was exactly the reason Hunter had broken up with her and after all this time she had to admit, the limey was right: as much as she purported to be bold and confident, to love a challenge, she was a coward when it came to affairs of the heart.

But Bobbi was no fool. She knew regret, and she knew the value of a wasted opportunity. She had regretted leaving Hunter enough times in her life thus far; she dared not waste such an opportunity again.

So she stood, and reached for her coat. Never mind the nightgown, never mind ringing for Davis; Bobbi figured, she could tack a horse herself just as quickly and if she didn’t take action now the fear might just get the better of her. Perhaps the boots, though, rather than these flimsy slippers – yes, she should take the boots.

She pulled them on in a fluster, hopping in through the stable door, and tacked up in the dark as fast as her fingers remembered how. Of course, she could walk to the Fitzsimmons’ – they were only next door after all, just a little ways down the road - but it was far too late at night for that, and God forbid it would give her too much time to think.

Fortunately, Belle was fleet of foot and it was not long at all before she was clattering up the FitzSimmons’ driveway, her heart in her throat. There was a carriage she did not recognise in a nearby pen. Did they have a guest? Should she turn back? Belle whinnied low as if warning her, and Bobbi swallowed her fear once again. If she did turn back, no doubt she would find herself achingly alone by the fireplace for many more nights in her life, and as much as she treasured her independence, she didn’t want it to be like that. Not when it didn’t have to be.

Bobbi slid from the saddle, and as she tied Belle to a nearby post she spared a thought of gratitude that she had decided to wear boots for a little relief against the chilled and dewy cobblestones. With a deep breath, she approached the threshold, and knocked, and rang the bell.

Seconds passed, and though she counted them along their way they still somehow felt like minutes. Like hours. Bobbi watched every breath steam in front of her and after the third she closed her eyes and reluctantly wondered what it would be like to just give in to the dread, and forget the whole thing.

Just as she was on the knife’s edge of giving up, however, the door opened a crack.

It was Fitz, with his soft curls and his shirt loose and dishevelled, and upon recognising the figure who stood at his door, a rather bewildered expression.

“Jemma, dear,” he called, “I think- I think it’s for you.”

And so Jemma came to the door as well, and looked Bobbi up and down. A frown crossed her features, concerned and curious, as she ushered Bobbi inside.

“Are you alright?” she wondered. “I… hadn’t heard from you.”

“I know.” Bobbi bounced on the spot. With adrenaline keeping her blood pumping, she hadn’t realised it was quite so cold. “I know. It’s my fault. I meant to tell you so- so many things. I was flattered- I am flattered. Exceedingly so. I just…”

“It’s perfectly understandable,” Jemma assured her. “I should never have sprung something so… unconventional on you like that!”

“But being unconventional is why I like you.” It blurted out with no restraint, and Bobbi felt her heart warm when Jemma smiled. “And it’s not the- the arrangement itself that worries me. I suppose I thought you were mocking me; that you might not have been taking me seriously.”

“Bobbi.” Jemma looked her square in the eyes, and very deliberately reached out a hand to take hers. “We were very serious – and still are, if you’ll have us.”

Fitz nodded his agreement earnestly, and at last, Bobbi felt the knot in her chest begin to untie.

“Well then,“ she confessed, “I suppose my answer is yes.”

Jemma beamed, and clapped in delight.

“Wonderful!” she cried. “Won’t you come in for a drink to celebrate?”

“Certainly,” Bobbi agreed. The fear was fading much faster than she had anticipated, and she smiled at her companions with genuine warmth in her heart. “I would love a brandy, if you have it.”

“I’ll pour you a glass,” Fitz said, and scoffed. “If Hunter hasn’t taken the last drop.”

“If- who?”

Bobbi stammered, and let Jemma and Fitz usher her into the lounge without protest, with hardly a thought as she checked back over what she had heard. Surely it couldn’t be…

“Where’ve you been, lovelies?”

That voice, she knew it. The spinning, slightly drunken dance he was doing as he poured himself a glass. Even that scruffy beard, and the medallion of St Anthony that gleamed on a leather thong around his neck as he turned away from the fireplace and back toward the door - Bobbi couldn’t see it from this far away but she knew, she knew that’s what it was.

Apparently, he knew her just as quickly too, as he froze mid-dance and mid-pour and stared. Not too long ago, he would have made a snide comment to try and to get a rise out of her – speak of the devil? she could imagine he would say - and a rise she would gladly have given him. But this time he simply… stared.

“Uh…” Fitz wondered from the sidelines. “Do you two know each other?”

Jemma elbowed him, and hissed for him to hush, but it barely registered to Bobbi. She was too busy watching Hunter, waiting for him to burst the bubble of nostalgia and rose-coloured glasses she had no doubt shaded him with. Any second now.

Instead, he smiled, and held the last glass of the brandy out to her.

“It’s good to see you, Bob,” he said.

“It’s good to see you too.”

#aosfic #scis & spies #agents of shield #aosficnet #roaring 20s rarepair exchange #marvel #polyamory #clara's fic tag

[accio-the-force]

building castles in the air

A Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange gift for @agentofship!

Summary: Stuck inside on a snowy day, Jemma, Fitz, Hunter and Bobbi decide to build a pillowfort.

Pairing: Scis & Spies

Rating: T

Word Count: 1135

Read on AO3

Excerpt:

“Wow, it’s really coming down out there.”

Hunter brushed the snow off his head and put down the bags he was carrying on the counter.

He and Fitz had braved the elements to grab last minute supplies to get them through the late March snowstorm-- namely snacks and alcohol.

Fitz chimed in, “Honestly, you’d never know it’s spring with how much snow we’ve gotten. Say what you will about the weather in the UK, but at least we don’t have to put up with bullocks like this.”

“Welcome to the Northeast, dear,” Bobbi said, plucking the hat off his head and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “You’d think you’d be used to it after five years in Boston.”

Read the rest on AO3

#aosficnet2 #earth vs space #team space aos #roaring 20s rarepair exchange #scis and spies #*runs and hides*

[soulofevil]

Hey @the-dc-killjoy​! For the Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange I wrote you some hurt/comfort Legacyquakerider! I hope you enjoy!

Just the Three of Us - Chapter 1 - soulofevil - Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Chapters: 3/3

Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Robbie Reyes/Skye | Daisy Johnson/Antoine Triplett

Characters: Robbie Reyes, Skye | Daisy Johnson, Antoine Triplett

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, mostly comfort, Wakes & Funerals, Hospitals

Summary:

An unconventional relationship for three unconventional people, but Robbie, Daisy, and Trip are always there when their partners need them.

#legacyquakerider #robbie reyes #daisy johnson #antoine triplett #aosficnet2 #roaring 20s rarepair exchange #earth vs space #team space aos #fanfic #mine

[apathbacktoyou]

that’s what friends are for

a legacyrider au for @soulofevil for Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange - hope you like it:)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Robbie Reyes/Antoine Triplett Characters: Robbie Reyes, Antoine Triplett, Antoine Triplett's Grandmother Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Trauma, Inhuman!Trip, Trip Lives, robbie returns from hell, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Robbie has a hard time readjusting to life after hell. Luckily, he has Trip there as a friend and support - and maybe something else, too.

#roaring 20s rarepair exchange #legacyrider #aosficnet2 #team space aos #earth vs space

[the-dc-killjoy]

I’ll colour me blue (only see myself when I’m looking up at you) by TurtlemanTremors084/@the-dc-killjoy for the lovely @sunalsolove

MayxBobbi, T, 2.8k, Chapter 1/1

Summary:

Melinda May fears that she may never meet her soulmate. Enter Bobbi Morse, a walking mystery that almost made her forget about her fears.

(aka the Maybobbi soulmate au that someone did ask for)

Read on Ao3

#roaring 20s rarepair exchange #Team Space AOS #Earth vs Space #maybobbi #Melinda May #Bobbi Morse #mine #maybobbi fic rec #it's a mess #but it's done! #sunalso

[stanningjay2]

So I’m really hype for the Agents of SHIELD roaring 20s Rarepair challenge and I’ve decided the best way to prepare is to consume an entire other fandom for research purposes. You’re welcome in advance to my recipient 🙃🙃

#roaring 20s #roaring 20s rarepair #rarepair fics #agents of shield #AOS #roaring 20s rarepair exchange #fic writing #i am extra #my brain is frothing at the mouth #i would love to give hints but i think it’s supposed to be secret #it’s for fact finding/aesthetic #it won’t be a crossover

[bobbiamorse]

AoS Rarepair Exchange: Roaring 20s Style!

What’s up, y’all! The AoS Rarepair Exchange is back and better than ever! What makes it better than ever? You, of course!

Here’s the schedule for the AoS Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange!:

January 2nd - Signups Open

January 16th - Signups Close

January 17th - Prompts Sent Out

February 17th - Mid-Exchange Check-In

March 17th - Posting Day

A few more things you’ll want to know before signing up:

For the purposes of this exchange, a rarepair is defined as a ship that has fewer than 300 works on Ao3. The following ships are excluded from the exchange: Fitzsimmons, Philinda, Skyeward, Skoulson, Skimmons, Biospecialist, Huntingbird, Quakerider, Staticquake, and Mackelena.

Ships including Ward and AIDA are also excluded from the exchange, due to the difficulting of finding participants willing to write for them.

All characters must be characters who have appeared on Agents of SHIELD. Crossover ships are great, but not everyone has seen any/all Marvel movies, and this exchange is for everyone. :)

Please be as specific as possible when filling out your survey. Because of the nature of this exchange, it’s easier if you list the ships you won’t write for rather than the ones you will. Some examples of what you can say in your form: I won’t write poly ships, I won’t write [character] at all, I won’t write [character 1] with anyone other than [character 2]. Err on the side of saying too much rather than too little. 

In a similar vein, when filling out the ‘preferred ships’ questions on the survey, please use characters full names, separated by / or &, depending on whether you would like a romantic or platonic fic. I know a lot of ship names, but would rather there be no ambiguity in what you’d like.

If you have to back out at any point, please let me (Al/@bobbimorseisbisexual) know sooner rather than later so someone else can write a fic for your partner!

Fics should be at least 1000 words long

If you’ve read all that and you’re still game, the signup form is available here! Track the tag ‘roaring 20s rarepair exchange’ for updates and info. :)

#aos #agents of shield #roaring 20s rarepair exchange

[artificialqueens]

Run, Joey, Run! (A'whora X Joe Black) - Plegdoctor

A/N: Hiya! First time submitting on here so I’m a bit nervous but here we go! This is for the rarepair song fic challenge, based on the song Run Joey Run (glee cast supremacy). I hope you enjoy :) x TW for major character death.

*

Daddy please don’t, it wasn’t his fault, he means so much to me! Daddy please don’t, we’re gonna get married…

“Joe Black?”

His head shoots up in surprise at the sound of his name. He’s been at the table for so long that he thought, perhaps hoped, he might’ve become a ghost. Maybe everything would be easier to deal with then.

“That’s me.” His once melodic voice is now ever flat, an out of tune piano that would fall to dust if you pressed a key.

“Can I call you Joey?”

The girl is young – she doesn’t know, she couldn’t know. It’s not her fault that she’s enthusiastic, bubbly, and upbeat in a way that most teenage girls are. Assigning nicknames must be one of her favourite things when she volunteers here, something that all the other residents love and remember her for.

But his just brings pain.

“I haven’t been called Joey in a long time. It’s Joe.” He says firmly. She nods, undeterred, sits down with a flourish and crosses her legs. He can’t help but notice how full of life she is. She flips a blonde curl behind her shoulder, a simple gesture that snaps his heart in two. “Are you new?” He asks. Something about her seems so familiar.

She nods. “Yep. Saw the ad on Facebook and thought it would look good on my CV.” Her grin is mischievous and her honesty makes him smile. “Plus my grandma used to be in here before she died last year. I always liked visiting her. Do your family come here often?”

“I don’t have a family.”

“Really? No wife or children?”

“No.”

“Why?”

He grimaces. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“And a sad one.”

Her eyes soften and she places a gentle hand on his. He hasn’t told his story to anyone in a long time. Perhaps he’ll never tell it again.

She’s the right person to hear his tragic tale.

“It started when I was just 18…”

The rain is bloody miserable as Joe heaves a sigh. It was a silly idea and he knows it – no one wants to employ a gardener in February. His mum always warned him that this would happen. He can hear her voice in his head now: “Joseph, if you live your life with no plan then you will never get anywhere.”

He will never admit it, but she’s right. It’s hopeless. If only he had been proactive, done something sensible in school like his friends who are now becoming Lawyers and Doctors.

“But then I wouldn’t have met her.”

He goes to turn around, begin the long walk home, when he hears a tap from a window. He looks up at the house he’s in front of to see a girl standing in a window on the top floor. She shouts something and he shakes his head. She sighs dramatically and disappears.

He hates the people who live in these massive houses. That girl will probably never have to work a day in her life. Selfish, spoiled, little- The front door flies open to reveal her again.

“Hello there! Do you want to come in?”

He thinks for a minute that he’s misheard her.

“You what?”

“You’re soaked! Come in and get dry, so you don’t catch a chill.”

His acceptance is hesitant but grateful. Trooping around Brighton in sodden clothes and a failed business plan weren’t his plans for the afternoon, but neither was being rescued by this angel of a woman.

And that’s what she looks like. An angel. Her hair is long and blonde, caught up in a bun but the tendrils that escape frame her face so prettily. She’s got a pretty face too, pale with small features. Pink cheeks and red lips. If her house wasn’t an indicator of her class then her dress certainly would’ve been. Joe doesn’t know much about women’s fashion, but he’s lived with his mother long enough to know that she would gladly tear every hair out of her head to get her hands on that fabric.

“My father won’t be home for a while, he’s still at work. Here, come sit by the fire, I’ll fetch you some of his spare clothes.”

She runs off before he can say anything.

When she returns he is seated by a roaring fire, looking around the house with a sense of wonder. Her arms are full of clothes. “I don’t know your size so I just had to guess.” She frowns, handing them over to him.

“Uh, thank you.”

“You can change in the bathroom.’ She points to a door underneath the stairs. ‘I’ll be here when you’re done.”

The bathroom is small but overwhelmingly grand. Her grips the shining sink and laughs at the absurdity that is his life. He pulls the angel’s father’s jumper over his head. It’s made of soft green wool, soft on his skin in contrast to his jumper made of harsh material. The trousers are a good fit too. The girl has an eye for fashion.

He says this to her as he exits, watches the way her face lights up. “Do you really think so? I would love to go to fashion school.”

“But your mother won’t allow it?”

“I have no mother. It’s just me and daddy here.”

“I’m the opposite. Just me and my mum.” It’s bizarre to try to relate to someone like her. Someone who would’ve given him dirty looks in the schoolroom. Someone who has more than one bathroom and calls her dad ‘daddy’.

She laughs, the sound like silver bells. “We have so much in common already. But I don’t even know your name.”

“Joe. Or Joseph.”

She’s not satisfied with his answer, shaking her head. “That’s far too serious for you. Your voice is like… like music! You cannot say Joe in such a beautiful way.”

“What then would you call me?”

“Joey. Doesn’t it sound much more fun? Joey, Joey, Joey.” She sings.

He bites back a laugh. “And what is the name of my saviour?”

“Aurora.”

“A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Flirting has never come naturally to him. He doesn’t doubt that that certainly translates.

“What are you doing around these parts, Joey?”

He raises an eyebrow. Does she mean it judgementally? No, probably not, her tone is more inquisitive than anything. But he allows the silence to grow awkward before he answers. He’s rewarded with a flush that crosses her face.

“I’m looking for a job. As a gardener.”

“You don’t look like a gardener to me.”

“What do I look like?”

She shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

Joe uses the silence to look at her again. He’s been with girls before, kissed their rough chapped lips, laid his hands on their waists. But Aurora is incomparable. He wishes to take a million pictures of her, carry them around as inspiration. When artists talk about their muses, they are talking about her.

“This garden could do with a gardener.”

Her statement is unlike anything else she’s said so far. Shy.

“And would your daddy be alright with me coming to help you out?”

The way that her lips contort makes him think that she knows he’s mocking her slightly.

“He’ll have to be.” She replies lightly.

“I’m confused. You said you weren’t married. This sounds like the sort of story you tell your grandkids when they ask how you met.” She’s almost accusatory.

He shakes his head. “You’re too impatient. There are other oldies in here that like a short and easy chat. You’re welcome to speak to them.”

“No, I’ve heard the start, I need the rest of it. So Aurora hires you without her father knowing.’ She pauses and then grins. ‘Daddy has different connotations nowadays, did you know?”

“I have no idea what the youths say anymore.”

“I’ll teach you some slang next time. Anyway, what happens after she hires you?”

“I’d been working there for two years when she first confessed it to me…”

Employment under the Boyle family was like living in luxury. Joe showed up twice a week and worked for four hours. Aurora brought him a drink after the first two hours, and they would talk and laugh together for some time. He learnt more about her than he ever thought: She was the same age as him. Her mother died in childbirth. She missed her in a way, but never really knew her. Her life was devoted completely to her father whom she adored. She volunteered at the hospital, she wanted a little white dog, she loved fashion and often made her own dresses, her favourite flowers were lilies. He crammed so much information into his head that by the time they were twenty he could’ve written a book on her life.

There was something electric about her. The way she sang his name, “Joey” called across the (obscenely large) garden as she came out with a glass of cold lemonade. The brightness of her eyes and the ever-present blush in her cheeks. She possessed a vitality like no other.

The fact that he was deeply in love with her had not escaped his notice.

Such a shame that she would never feel the same way.

Until a summers day when the sun was beating down upon them. Her dress was white cotton, her hair was loose, her forehead shiny with a thin layer of sweat. “You know Joey, I really thought you would have noticed something by now.”

“And what would that be, Miss?”

“Oh don’t call me Miss, you know how that bothers me!” She cries out. Her delicate face contorts into a frown as he chuckles. “You are such a tease.”

“Oh no Aurora, don’t withhold this information! What should I have noticed?”

“Well it’s just we have spent so much time together over these past years I just… I thought men were meant to notice things like this.”

He squints at her. Her appearance has not changed, he would have noticed that. Every inch of her is burned into his mind. But he can hardly say that. “Are you wearing a new lipstick shade? Or is that your hair has been cut? Ah, I know, you have new shoes!”

She huffs and leans moodily against her chair, arms folded across her chest. “Daddy was right. Men really are dense. Must I spell it out for you, Joey?”

He opens his mouth to say yes but is cut off by her laugh. “No, you wouldn’t even get it then. Daddy said that if you want a man to know that you are in love with them then you should just tell them plainly. What do you think Joey, should I just boldly tell you that I am in love with you?”

The blonde across from him emits a squeal so high pitched that dogs 20 miles away must be howling.

“A bit of respect for my elderly ears please.”

“I’m sorry. That is so adorable! Oh she sounds brilliant, I think me and her would’ve been friends. What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” She sounds outraged.

He smirks slyly and shrugs. “I just kissed her.”

He would never grow used to the feeling of her in his arms. It’s not that it felt unnatural. It felt like thunderbolts and lightening strikes, a wave of emotions flooding through him, a storm that left him breathless. Ivy sprouted when their lips met, thick vines that wound through their hearts, binding them together. His skin flowered under her touch.

She made him promise not to tell her father.

“Daddy wouldn’t like it. He likes you but as… as an employee.”

Joe understands.

He has no other choice.

Aurora is his precious jewel, a secret treasure that he must keep hidden from the rest of the world. He remarked to her once that he has never known any flower to bloom quite like their love does when shoved into a dark corner of a greenhouse.

She laughed and shushed him with a kiss.

Her lips taste like cherries.

Nature too powerful can be destructive.

A new life has begun.

His phone rings. The sound surprises him to his core – the fact that his wages brought a phone for him and his mum is something he will forever be proud of. He’s considering asking them to put the fact on his gravestone.

“Joey.” She’s whispering. He can hear sniffles that indicate the tears that surely must be running down her pretty face.

“What’s the matter, Rory?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“You can’t tell anyone. Oh my God, Daddy is going to kill me!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay darling! We can figure this out. We can solve this.” Joe has never forgotten the way that Aurora saved him that day when they first met. For two years he’s been hoping to repay her.

But he never imagined it would be like this.

The phone rings again. It sounds more urgent than any other time, despite being the exact same ring. He snatches it up.

“Joe, don’t come over. My dad and I, we had a fight, and he stormed out the door. I’ve never seen him mad this way, my God, he’s going crazy! He said… he said he’s going to make you pay for what we’ve done. He’s got a gun. So run, Joey, run, Joey run!”

He runs. Straight to her house.

He hammers on the door with the force of a hurricane. “Aurora! Rory!” He sounds unhinged, frantic, but he needs to see her. He needs to be sure she’s safe. The door flings open and she runs out. Her brown eyes are filled with tears and - oh no, oh God why? – there are bruises on her face. She flies into his arms where he holds her close.

All at once he sees him, her father, sneaking up behind them. Aurora notices too.

“Daddy please don’t, it wasn’t his fault! He means so much to me! Daddy please don’t, we’re gonna get married!”

Time moves in slow motion.

“He’s got a gun! Run, Joey, run!” She yells.

He lifts it to aim.

She steps in front of him.

Suddenly a shot rings out.

Aurora falls.

“No!” A guttural scream rips Joe in half. He catches her falling body, cradling her like a child. He looks down to find that his hands are red.

Her cherry red lips part. “Daddy, please don’t. It wasn’t his fault. He.. he means so much to me. Daddy, please don’t. We’re gonna get married.” Her breathing is laboured. The light in her eyes dims. “Run. Joey. Run.” She chokes out.

Tears fall down her face. She does nothing to interrupt them, letting them create a waterfall on her cheeks.

“I told you it was a sad story.” He says gently. His heart is heavy too. Telling his story never gets easier.

“She saved you again.”

He nods. “My guardian angel. My perfect angel Aurora.” He pulls a necklace from under his shirt. She leans closer to see a small angel carved out of rose quartz on a chain.

“Do you miss her?”

“Every day. When it’s rain or shine. When thunder crashes and lightening strikes. When waves surge in oceans. When storms dominate the air. When ivy wraps around buildings. When flowers grow. When I savour sweet cherries.”

“I’m so sorry Joe.”

“It’s been almost 70 years and my heartache has not loosened. But I know my angel is watching over me.”

The girl nods hurriedly, her soft hand still clutching his wrinkled one. A small bell goes.

“It’s time for you to go.”

She stands. “Thank you for sharing your story with me Joe.”

“Thank you for listening.”

He catches her wrist as she goes to turn away. “I don’t know your name. May I know the name of the girl who listened so carefully to my tragic tale?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Why not?”

She smiles softly. Tears still spill from her light brown eyes, blonde hair bounces on her shoulders. “Aurora. My name is Aurora.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #joe black #a'whora #a'whora x joe #fic challenge #m/f au #song fic #rare pair #plegdoctor #tw gun violence #tw major character death

[libbyweasley]

This fic was written for @cminerva for the Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange for the prompt — “Something there that wasn’t there before.” I’m a sucker for that moment when Character A looks at Character B and sees what Character B has known all along.

Thanks to the lovely @blancasplayground and @agentofship for their help and support, to @accio-the-force for the amazing fic banner, annd to @bobbimorseisbisexual for organizing the exchange. ❤️❤️❤️

Something There

Melinda May examines her relationship with Andrew...and realizes there might be something there she didn’t see before.

Pairing - Andrew Garner/Melinda May

Rated - T

Words ~1600

Read on AO3

#roaring 20s rarepair exchange #agents of shield #aos fanfic #melinda may #andrew garner #pre-canon #canon compliant

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Roaring 20s 👀

I originally started working on this a full year ago for the @jason-rarepairs Challenge, January prompt.

It’s a choose-your-own-adventure kind of thing but with pairings, so I have to finish all the parts before I post it which means that writing it has been very slow because I crave that validation from posting and am super impatient 🤣

The snippet itself is very rough and I’m not sure how much of it will actually make the cut. But basically, Roaring 20’s an a/b/o omega flapper!Jason AU that starts in a speakeasy where all the major players are enjoying a drink and some good music. Jason has ditched his chaperone (poor Dick) and gone out without permission (as any self-respecting flapper/suffragette would). I’ve also taken liberities with real world historical timeline because I like certain 20’s fashions better than others, want Jason fighting for the omega vote, this is just an excuse to play with post-war character archetypes.

So here are the player (this is for the Rare Pare challenge so none of the usual suspects):

The Hedonistic writers = Apollo/M in a very socially unacceptable alpha/alpha relationship and hiding it. Currently looking for an omega who can... look the other way.

The Foreign Prince = alpha Tiger. Or is he? I literally haven’t decided... really tempted to do an omega/omega thing with them but then I also really want some alpha Tiger/Jay. We’ll see what comes out when I get there lol

The Capone = alpha Roman the booze smuggler and mobster 😏

The Rockefeller = alpha Thomas Wayne. Finds Jason’s independence charming but keeps trying to nudge him into something more traditional

The War Hero = alpha Slade. All his missions were top secret. No he can’t talk about it. But rumor is, he singlehandedly won the war.

And now for the very small, extremely rough snippet:

#wip game #wip questions #roaring 20’s #jason rare pair challenge

[agentemo]

Title: A Flare for the Romantic

Summary: In a universe where soulmates are the norm, a flare is the moment when two soulmate’s eyes meet and they feel their connection for the first time. It usually only happens to a person once but Fitz has a lot of love to go around.

For @ready-to-kick-some-ass, for the Roaring 20s Rarepair Exchange ^_^

I don’t have a fancy graphic and the first few paragraphs are too world-buildy to post in a preview but! It’s a soulmate AU for Scis and Spies so if that tickles your fancy, you might like this fic!

#scis and spies #lm writes #rarepair exchange #i love exchanges

[hadzyuka]

SHIPPING INFO | ABOUT MUN | REPOST DON’T REBLOG

✧ WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE?

I suppose I don’t really have an OTP for Nat? Simply because I’m just happy when someone wants to ship with her because she’s WHACK AF and a lot of “ships” with Nat are considered rare pairs which is. Interesting lmao.

✧ WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING?

Pretty much anything as long as it doesn’t violate any of my rules.

✧ HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

Since they’re countries that makes it...difficult. Obviously, no one that is physically under 18 or age wise under 18, other than that...it doesn’t really matter? Physically, Nat is in her early 20s, if the personification she’s with is older she’ll probably just jokingly call you her sugar daddy, I mean she doesn’t care all that much--

✧ ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

A little bit, I prefer to know the mun who I’m shipping the muses with first, have a convo about it, and be mutuals as well.

✧ WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH?

HmmMMmm well @aciublessyou and I are chugging away at LietBela (which I was always meh on until we plotted and now I love it??), @a-lion-roars EngBela is on it’s way to the station, those are the two threads where it’s a definite yes, but I’ve discussed future shipping stuff with @gebrochener-adler, @cederenscio, & @little-miss-sunshower (but I feel like there’s others?? I may have forgot one or two people ^^;;; )

✧ DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

Yes please!! I’d rather talk about it first, and usually I’d prefer to talk about it after they have a friends thing going on (or friends with benefits because Nat’s lonely and a bit of a hoe).

✧ HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP?

I don’t ship all the time?? But I’ve found that I do ship a little often, which I don’t mind that much if others don’t mind it as well. Nat needs some wholesome friends though.

✧ ARE YOU SHIP-OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

I guess in the middle, then?? 

✧ ARE YOU MULTISHIP?

Yes!! Yes of course, haha, there’s so many things I want to explore with Nat, shipping sometimes occurs in different time lines and also helps me explore the different phases and changes she went through, which is helpful.

✧ WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP(S) IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

Dude I barely consider myself in the Hetalia fandom any more...lmao...but here are some of my favorite Belarus ships that I’ve done in All The Time I’ve RP’d Her (in no specific order, and they’re vaguely mainstream rarepairs if that makes any sense??): DenBela, EngBela, LietBela, NorBela, FraBela, AmeBela, PruBela

✧ FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

Just send me a message!! If we’ve never talked before it’s no biggie, we can work something out!! :))

Tagged By: @princeofsolitude & @a-lion-roars !! Tagging: @aciublessyou, @gebrochener-adler, @apres-moi-ledeluge, @little-miss-sunshower, @cederenscio & anyone else who wants to do it!! 

#mun #shipping meme #tag meme #i've never finished and posted one of these #i have like 3 drafts from months ago of tag memes oops #about nat sorta