Jaspers Darlin's

Underappreciate Fics With TiffaniNichole

Underappreciated Fics with tiffaninichole


For those of you who know me, you know that I'm a non-canon gal through and through. When I
DO read canon, I'm extremely picky and hardly ever give Jalice the time of day. Out of the billion
and twelve fics that I've read, only about four have been Jalice and two of those were by my
good pal mw138 (read her stuff, BTW)

My Commentary On the World had me from the first sentence and kept me intrigued. The Jasper
and Alice in this story are the most quirky, crazy, funny, fuck-awesome characterizations I've
seen. This is by far one of my top three favorite Jaspers... and we all know how much I loves me
some Jas. If someone asks for a fic rec, the link to this fic will be one of the first ones given.

If I haven't made it clear enough, I. Love. It.

Enough with the fangirling. I'll save that for later. Let's get on with the rec, shall we?

We open with Jasper sitting on his purple couch, wearing a kaftan and smoking a pipe with a fan
blowing cold wind onto his boxer-less balls.

Yes, he goes commando under his kaftans. *drool*

Not sure what a kaftan is? Kindly check out the banner above. Kind of a poncho/nightgown type
thing. And he wears them all the time. Commando.

Did I mention that he's a tad eccentric?

You know what's not amazing?

Hobbies. Hobbies are not amazing.

Hobbies are fucking stupid. Think about it. People make a huge deal out of having a hobby.
When a person doesn't have a hobby, other people think they're sad and/or freaky, and want
them to get a hobby in order to be "normal". Hobbies are supposed to take your mind off of bad
shit, introduce you to new people, and occupy your time with something useful.

Allow me to elaborate on why these are fucking crazy notions. By "hobby", someone is referring
to things that fall into three categories: non-team sports, crafts, and Oprah.

So, non-team sports. Let's take golf. All golf does is make you angry. Golf clothes are fucking
hideous and everyone knows this but wears them anyway, therefore making you feel like shit
before you even start playing. If your mind is in a place of shit, and then you start playing and
really get anywhere, how does that
defeat the bad? You will only meet other people who are as morose and hyper-focused as you.

Also, you will never be good enough to be "good", and "good" equals Tiger

Woods who is a complete douche, so
really, all you're aspiring to with your idiot hobby is to be a hideously-dressed douche.


Next, crafts. Any craft. How about knitting? Or better yet, scrapbooking.

Ah yes, scrapbooking. This does not
defeat bad shit, it makes it worse. No
one makes scrapbooks about the bad
times. "My Divorce", collaged on hand-made paper from Thailand. "R.I.P. Fido", complete with
Milkbone-shaped stickers.


Don't you just love him already? *googly eyes*

When he's finished thinking about non-awesome shit, Jasper realizes he's out of tobaccy, so he
throws on a pair of Birkenstocks and some aviator glasses, opens the door... and is surprised to
find someone pounding on his hot as fuck chest. Enter Alice's point of view...

I stare, shocked, at the man looming
over me. How dare he interrupt my door knocking with his finely-carved pectorals?

I can tell this because my palm is resting quite inappropriately on his chest. Hmm. I should
probably remove it. I know this has to be the mysterious Jasper Whitlock (I am standing in front
of his apartment after all), but really, what the hell is he doing?

He isn't moving at all. He's staring at me from behind these weirdly tinted glasses that belong on
Elton John. Oh…

"Are you gay?" I ask. I vaguely realize
that my little introduction is probably not all that correct, but I never really care about stuff like
that. He cocks his head like a little dog does when you ask if it wants a cookie.

"Nope," he says.

"Oh. Your sunglasses are questionably

"Really?" He seems puzzled.

"Well, I'm female and, while I wouldn't personally wear them, I would say they're definitely lady

"Oh. Okay." He lifts one hand to remove the glasses and throws them somewhere over his
shoulder. "Better?"

Um, yeah. I'm glad that my own dark,
oversized glasses obscure my eyes
because he would surely see them widen at the sight of his amber, piercing orbs of seduction.

Yeesh, I need to lay off the cheap

romance novels.

The silence is deafening, and I can't take it. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Are you?"

"I just did."

"That doesn't really count. It had no
substance." He shrugs.

"Oh. What would you like to hear?" I
ask. He folds the fingers of his hands
together and props them under his chin, thinking. "Take your glasses off?"

Huh? "What?"

"I did, so you should too. Duh."

"Oh, okay." My white-gloved hands
remove my accessory.

The me and the him regard one another.

What an introduction, huh? Don't these two make you smile? And Alice is awesomesauce already.
I heart her and her Audrey Hepburn dressed self.

Oh, but the fun is just beginning, because Jasper and his eclectic tongue insults Alice and hurts
her little feelings. She tries to hold back, but fails and starts crying right in front of Kaftansper.
He's clueluess in knowing what to do, pulling her into his arms and patting her all stiff-like.

My gloved hands clutch his kaftan in tight wads, and I bury my face into his spicy- smelling neck.
My tears fall freely, but I'm not all that sad anymore. His hands jerkily try to rub my back. It's so
cute that he obviously has no idea how to handle me.

I'm starting to smile instead of cry, but he feels so nice that I fake the sobbing noises for a while

"Now, now Sweetcheeks, cut the crap," he mutters in the nicest way.

Heehee. I love him. Don't you?

So, Alice and Jasper have been seeing each other for a few weeks. And when I say seeing each
other, I don't mean "seeing each other." I mean, Alice has been coming to Jasper's place daily,
and stays for hours while they exchange witty banter and eat boxed processed foods.

They haven't kissed, hugged or even given promise rings on naughty nights to come.

Jasper and his weird self has no clue how to handle Alice. He only knows how to deal with slutty
chicks: Love 'em and leave 'em... but obvs, Ali is different. He doesn't wanna just fuck her.

But the problem is, Alice wants him to just fuck her.

In short, they're both really fuckin' horny.

One day, Alice stays over too long into the night and our sweet, weird leading man can't have
Alice wandering the streets at night, can he? He asks if she'd like to stay the night, and does she


They get nice and comfy in Jasper's wall-to-wall, silk laden, pillow stuffed bed and Alice wakes up
to those sexy hands groping her boobs.


Me too.

There is a lot of awesome in the Jasper box, and it has a really big bow. Like, big. Big, big bow.

He's a gift-wrapped package of…package, picked out by that fantabulous personal shopper dude
Barney's, just for Alice.

He's pulled me so close that my boobs
are crushed by his chest, and my whole body is touching his. It's really not helping with the
horny situation, and, if I may be so bold, he's kind of responding fairly well himself.

Conscious or not, he wants me. He mumbles something into his pillow,
but the fabric is blocking the sound too much for me to hear. I poke the edge down from his
mouth. "Amo la tua cula."


"Chiavata…erf…amo la tua cioccie," he weirdly sputters what I recognize as Italian. It's really

"Sono così arrapato. Voglio fare l'amore a lei."

"Sure, Jazzberry, sure," I sooth, stroking his cheek. I have no idea what I'm responding to, but it
can't be bad. He smiles a little on one side of his mouth.

"Ti penso sempre."

"Do go on," I prod.

"Ti…Ti am..."

"Really? Tell me more," I giddily demand.

I really shouldn't be encouraging his sleep talk, but I can't help myself.

"Voglio baciarla."

"Okay." I say that expecting him to keep mumbling, but he surprises me and shifts our bodies
a little so he's kind of on top. Double okay. His skin is hot through the silk surrounding us. He

nuzzles my neck before sucking on it. Hard. I go from amused to a writhing mess within seconds.
He moves his lips up to my jaw and then my chin. Gah.

Jasper groping and speaking Italian?! *panty explosion*

After that night, the they both step up the flirting a few notches and now it's very apparent that
they both want to hump until their nether regions combust... but they're still too chicken shit to
do anything about it.

Maybe things will change on the way to Bella and Edward's wedding...



"You know I want you, right?"

"Yes." I smile against his skin.

"I've wanted you the whole time."

"I know."

"How long have you known?"

"Since you took off your lady-shades for me," I whisper.

"Oh." He thinks for a while. "You know
there are other things I want to say to
you, right?"


"Good. I want to do it my way, though. Tomorrow."

"Cool." I can't keep my grin from splitting my face.

We sit for ten more minutes until we're about half an hour from Montauk.

The car swerves.


An accident!

They both get seriously injured and Jasper ends up in intensive care, struggling for his life...

Nah, just kidding. It's just a flat tire. Ha!

But a flat tire leads to more with these two horny kids. Sitting on a picnic table at a park + horny
people = happy times.

I stare up at him, my eyes not knowing where to focus because I want to look at all of him at


He stares down at me, his eyes doing
the burny thing.

I'm not really sure whether I launch
myself at him, or if he throws himself at me, but in less than a second our lips have fused
together like a sole to a shoe. It's not gentle.

Oh. My. God.

He tastes like . . . everything. My hands wind around his neck and into
his hair, grabbing it at the roots 'cause I have to fucking hold on to something.

He growls and tries to eat me alive using his tongue as a spoon. Because we're weirdly sitting,
he can't really grab me anywhere, so he scoots to stand up and swivels me to face him without
breaking our kiss.

I wrap my legs around his waist, and he finally grabs my ass in earnest. It brings our bodies
closer. He can feel my heat against his stomach, and he groans into my mouth, grinding himself
into me. I'm running out of air, as is he, so he moves down to my neck for a while. I think I
know what he's doing, and I'm right. He plants his lips right next to the sleep hickey and gives
me a brand new one. I think I'm going to combust.

I want him on my mouth again. I pull him back up and kiss that boy like nobody's ever kissed
that boy. He doesn't seem to mind, and bends me back onto the table. The hard concrete doesn't
bother me at all. His hand sneaks up my top, and I hiss as he grazes over my boob.

I have never been kissed this hard. I feel like he's sucking me into his body, but I'm happy to
take up permanent
residence. The past month of constant
contact without contact is driving us
both crazy.

I've turned into a horny beast. Or maybe I already was one. I lean up on my elbows to push my
face further into him. I can't maintain it though, and he presses me back into the table, lying
almost completely on top of me with my legs still clenching him like vice grips.

I think he likes it when I pull his hair, so I try it again. He rolls his hips into me until I think I
have about three seconds left before I come. Hard.

Best first kiss of all time?


This has to be one of my absolute favorite fics. The sad part? It's only five chapters. Tragedy.
WutheringBites has sworn to me that she'll continue with another five chapters. Okay, I'm lying.
But maybe if enough of us beg, she'll actually do it!

Please, please, please, read this NAO and review and beg like there's no tomorrow! And if you're
afraid of sounding pathetic, blame it on me. I don't mind taking the blame as long as I can get
more of Kaftansper. ^_^


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