#i am smiling like an idiot right now goddamn grinning like a fool because YOU my friend are SO. FUCKING. GREAT. ???!?

[trashbaget]

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[luxurychristmaspudding]

wip wednesday thursday

thank you for the tag bby @janaispunk!!!!!

i'm in such a slump with writing atm, so this is perfect!

step one: post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet)

watch - follow on from listen (f!reader x joel miller x frankie morales x santiago garcia)(literally just porn)

‘Couldn’t just - leave you out, daddy,’ you huff against the phone. A low chuckle rumbles through from the other end, and you bite your lip. ‘So this is - what? My consolation prize?’  ‘No,’ you frown, ‘It’s better than that. Better than your hand.’ ‘Better ‘n my hand?’ ‘Yeah, daddy.’ ‘Is it better than you, babygirl?’ You roll your hips at his question, biting back a whine. ‘No, daddy.’ He hums down the line. ‘Sounds like a consolation prize to me, honey.’ You sigh again, louder this time. ‘’S not a consolation prize,’ you groan. ‘Frankie isn’t even allowed to touch me.’ Joel chuckles at you properly this time. ‘You sound disappointed, baby.’ ‘I am.’ He waits. He waits, because he knows. Of course he knows. ‘We watched each other, daddy,’ you breathe. Confessional, dirty. A heat flushes up your cheeks as you tug at your t-shirt, suddenly nervous. ‘Watched?’ he asks, a smile curling the word. Mmhm. ‘Well done, baby,’ he says, ‘I’m impressed. Though a little disappointed it didn’t take you longer to figure out.’ You giggle, and he puffs out a breath before continuing. ‘Santi told me it wouldn't be so fast. Thought it’d take you guys a little while to -’ ‘He thought it’d take Frankie longer to work out,’ you interject. Joel falls silent. ‘He knows Frankie, but not me so well. You should’ve known better.’  Joel laughs again. ‘You’re goddamn right, angel.’

on call (f!babysitter!reader x neighbour!frankie)(idiots in love, when will these fools kiss)

‘Boyfriend?’ You grin at him, licking your teeth. He raises an eyebrow at you. ‘No.’ You shrug. ‘Shame. Is he -’ ‘Ex-boyfriend.’ You gape at him, jaw swinging open as your head swivels between the two men. Frankie isn’t sure whether he should be offended. ‘That’s your ex?’ You stage whisper, and Frankie swats at your arm as you slump against the fence.  ‘Yes.’ He grunts. You let out a low whistle.  ‘How could I ever compete?’ Frankie doesn't look at you as your words register, something hot and prickly settling at the back of his neck. Benny raises his hand in goodbye before his car peels away from the curb and disappears up the street.  When Frankie makes to move towards his front door, you hop the fence and follow him.  ‘You were competing?’ is all he can jest back as he leads you inside.

you know me too well - miniseries (f!reader x fwb!frankie) (super steamy and super angsty. deals with post-deployment mental health and being upheld by your best friends)

‘Berlin…’  ‘What?’ You laugh, trying to grab the paper from where he holds it high above your head. He fumbles with the second slip, biting his lip with laughter as you begin to crawl up his body - ‘Pope, give me that -’ ‘And Fish.’ You head whips round to Frankie’s, mouth in a little ‘o’ as everyone starts cheering. Frankie can hear his heartbeat in his ears as Will pushes him up from the couch and Pope kicks you off his lap. You stumble to your feet as he stands, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. His whole body feels hot, and your eyes are wide and wild. ‘Get outta here!’ Benny roars, ‘Your seven minute timer starts… now!’

futureproof - series (f!rockstar!reader x actor!joel) (an unlikely friendship, the talk of the tabloids. how long can a secret stay secret, and how long until you're forced to leave each other alone?)

You hold out a hand to him, a wide grin flashing the white of your teeth, and Joel finds himself stepping forward to take it before he can process what he's doing. Your palms are so soft, even with the callouses. 'Joel Miller.' He says through a shy smile, and your eyes crinkle back at him. 'I know who you are,' you chuckle, 'Come in, sit down. You're welcome to listen.' You squeeze his hand a little before pulling back and leading him into the room, and he's hit with the frightening feeling that he'd follow you anywhere. Your eyes are so full of mischief, of laughter, of friendship. Knowing you would be so easy. So easy Joel almost feels like he already does.

katchi (f!reader x joel miller - no outbreak au) (again, literally just porn)

no snippet - but you and joel go line dancing, he's sore afterwards, you give him an oiled up massage and end up going at it.

these will all be sooooo so smutty. in case that helps at all.

step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on

step three: every vote is one minute you put on a timer to work on that fic (ex. 15 votes = 15 minutes of writing)

you have my word <3

no pressure tags (v sorry if you've already been tagged!): @schnarfer @magpiepills @eupheme @swiftispunk @cowgurrrl @joelscurls @hellishjoel

[hertzwritings]

Better

A/N: This is the first Sebastian Stan story on this blog! I’M SO EXCITED!!! And to make it even better, it’s a request from the always amazing @one-sweet-gubler, so let me tell you, I RAN to write this. Also, I have decided to keep the readers family nameless and/or come up with some myself – it makes my eyes go kajhfsfughudfglndgjkfdz when I read to many Y/N Y/M/ Y/D/N and so forth in a row. I also had to change it a little, because for some reason, the meeting the family for the first time just didn’t want to work with me – I hope I do you justice anyway!

Request: Can you write one where he meets readers family for the first time and watches her play with a baby and it gets him feeling some way about her.

BITCH WATCH ME!! Yes to all of this! I hope I do you justice, my sweet.

Remember feedback feeds the soul, and requests are always open – I have no limits at all because I am me.

You can donate to my Ko-Fi here, and I’ll write you a personalized one-shot or multi-chapter fic, depending on the amount. It would help greatly with my bills for my medicine.

MASTERLIST

SEBASTIAN STAN MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, implied smut, implied breeding kink (I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself)

Wordcount: 2.210

To love is to live

“Babe, are you good to go?” He yelled through the house as he put on his jacket. “Just a minute!” He grinned. “You’ve been saying that for thirty minutes!” He yelled back and pulled his shoes on. “Well, one minute in woman-time is thirty minutes in man-time, you know that.” Her voice became clearer as Y/N descended the stairs, and when he saw her, his mouth went dry.

“Goddamn, you look fucking stunning.” He breathed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissed her. “We could just stay in, get a really serious round of the pukes. Or shits. I’m not picky.” He mumbled, hand traveling down to her ass and squeezing it. She hummed. “You better shut up, we gotta go.” She kissed him chastely and he groaned, following her outside and into the car. As he drove, he couldn’t help but glance at her, feeling absolutely amazed that that woman had chosen him for some godforsaken reason.

It was funny how much another person could change one’s life. He hadn’t really expected to meet her (or anyone, for that matter), simply going through life the way he did; wearily but happily. He bumped into her late one night, her back meeting his chest and when she turned around, he was sold. She had the softest eyes, he’d ever seen, and they fell on him, while a smile grazed her lips, and suddenly, he was not his own person anymore.

He had been a stumbling fool, a downright idiot and not at all like himself, when they went out the first few times. She had seriously just grabbed his heart and pulled it straight from his chest, taken in and put it somewhere – and he could not be happier.

That was three years ago. Three years since she stumbled into his life, and the time before her seemed foggy and hazy; like it had been some weird fever-dream. She made him feel complete.

“What’s going through your head?” She asked, pulling him from his thoughts. He smiled and grabbed her hand. “Not much. Just how lucky I am to have you.” She grinned. “Yes, you are.” “What would I ever do without you?” “God, I don’t know. Crash and burn?” She laughed a little. “Good thing you never have to wonder. It’s too much of a hassle to get rid of me now, you know.” He chuckled and kissed the back of her hand, eyes on the road. “You’re right. It would be such a pain to divide all the things… The cat. Nah, it’ll be easier to just stay together at this point.” She laughed at him.

“Hey, you’re sure you’re ready to meet my extended family?” He nodded. Although he felt like his heart was coming out of his ass from pure nerves, he wanted to meet them; she’d lit up when he agreed to come to the family cook-out and there was no way in hell, he’d ever back down from that. She had him wrapped around her fingers, and he was more than happy to stay there. “Sure, sweetheart. You’ve met my family.” She had gone with him to Romania for the summer and met a bunch of his family there – and seen where he had spent more time than he knew of. “Yeah, but still. My family is a little…” She sighed. “Much.” “Babe, you saw my uncle behead a chicken with his bare hands. I don’t think you can top that.” “I still don’t understand how he did that.” She mused. “And that’s probably for the best.” He laughed.

----------------

Just under an hour later, they pulled up to the lakehouse, the family had rented out for the weekend – Y/N and Sebastian wouldn’t stay for more than a day, mostly because his schedule was so tightly packed these days, but they would stay for as long as they could. He could already smell the barbeque. “Will you grab the gift in the back?” She asked as she got out and ran her hands over her dress. “Sure. Which one had a baby, again?” She took the gift from his hands with a smile, and they started walked to the house, his hand on the small of her back. “My cousin, Abby. It’s the second one, and you better prepare yourself for an onslaught of questions about when we are going to have one, she’s the only one who has kids yet.” She said, grinning at him. “That’ll be fun.” He said, winking at her. “Don’t you find it weird when people ask? Theoretically, they’re asking if we have sex. Seems weird to me.” “You know, I’ve never thought about it like that, but thank you, now that’s all I’ll hear when my dad asks.” She rolled her eyes as they turned the corner to the patio and a symphony of hello’s rang through the air.

Y/N’s mom and dad were the first to reach them, hugging both of them tightly. “It’s so good that you could come too, Sebastian!” Her mom exclaimed, looking him over. “You seem skinny. Have you eaten yet?” He grinned. She always did this, no matter what – he kind of liked it, it reminded him of his own mother. “I’m not starving the man, ma.” Y/N rolled her eyes at her mom. “Might as well be. Come say hello to the rest.” Y/N’s dad laid a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly. “I’m gonna get you a beer or fifteen. You look like you might need it.” Sebastian followed his eyes and saw several family members staring at him with open mouths. Fuck. “Thanks, I think I might need that too.” He grinned and followed Y/N to the group of people sitting in the patio-furniture.

“Everyone, this is Sebastian, my boyfriend, Sebastian, everyone.” She pointed to each individual member of her family. “There’s Abby, her husband Steve, my other cousin and her girlfriend, Suzanne and Cecilia, my aunt, Brie and my uncle, Roger.” She finished with a smile. Abby held her hand out and he shook it. “And that little octopus on my husband’s legs is our daughter, Marie. This little fella…” She nodded to the child in her arms. “Is James.” “Nice to meet you all.” “You’re like… Sebastian Stan, Sebastian, right?” He nodded at Abby’s husband. “So… If I get you really, really drunk, you might slip up on some details about the next phase of Marvel?” Y/N rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head. “Dude, come on.” “What, I’m curious!” Sebastian laughed and gratefully accepted the beer from Y/N’s dad before sitting down. Y/N put the gift next to Abby, who thanked her, and sat down on his lap, stealing the beer from his hand and taking a sip. “Yes, you can have some.” He said, laughing lightly.

Conversation flowed easily – not that he had expected anything else, it was Y/N’s family, after all – and he felt more and more comfortable. Marie had apparently decided that he was her one, true love, because she was constantly around him, showing stuff off (her one-armed Barbie being the favorite) and wanting him to play with her. He had done it without hesitation, loving the kid’s imagination. Steve had gone inside to help with the food, and Abby stretched a little – the older adults had gone for a walk, trying to enjoy the last rays of sun.

“Hey, Y/N?” She asked, her lips curling a little. “I have to put Marie down for a nap, and since Steve is busy in the kitchen… Could you hold him for a minute?” Y/n nodded happily, and Abby grabbed Marie, hoisting her on her hip. “Say goodnight, baby.” “Night!” Marie called out, waving as they walked to the house, which left Sebastian alone with Y/N.

His heart was going to jump out of his motherfucking chest.

She cradled James with one arm, the free hand gently stroking his hair. She cooed at him, softly swaying with him and then she started singing, which sent him into orbit. It was a vision, he never thought he'd be seeing and it wrecked him.

He never really thought about having kids. Not until he met her, at least, but it wasn’t something that was really at the forefront of his mind. That changed the minute he saw her with a baby in her arms.

Visions of Y/N waddling around with a pregnant belly, chasing a small toddler with his hair and her eyes flooded his brain. The giggles were almost as real to him as the whisper of wind in the treetops and he sucked in a hard breath. In his mind, he’d cradle the bump, reading stories softly in the dark of the night, resting his hands there and feeling the small movements from within. His breath hitched at the thought. He almost wanted to go back home right now and put her to bed and make sure she’d stay there until she was pregnant. She caught his eyes and smiled softly, now holding James to her chest, his head softly placed on her shoulder. “He’s so gorgeous.” She whispered. The kid had fallen asleep, mouth wide open and snoring lightly. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and walked to them with his eyes trained on her. He smiled as he let a finger run down the length of James’ nose. He was truly beautiful. “You want kids, baby?” He asked in a hushed voice, heart picking up. She raised an eyebrow and swayed gently back and forth.

“Yes. Like… Three.” “Three, huh?” He asked, cupping her face in his hand. “Mhm.” Her eyes were burning into his. “Do you?” He smiled. They hadn’t actually had the conversation before, just simply brushing it off whenever it came up – not that he didn’t want to talk about it, but they enjoyed their life as it was, and he was afraid he’d jinx it if he opened for that conversation. “Yeah.” He simply said, kissing her gently. She hummed against his lips and he felt a sense of belonging, that always came with her. She was home. “Really?” Her voice was playful. “When?” “Darling, I’d go right now, if you wanted to.” He answered truthfully. Her smile was wicked, eyes narrowed a little in that way, that made him stir in his pants. She was going to be the death of him, and what a glorious way to die.

“Thank you for holding him!” Abby’s voice cut through and she rushed to take James from Y/N’s arms. “Wow, you’ve got a grip on these. He’s been screaming his head off for weeks, I think that’s the first time he’s fallen asleep so easily.” She said happily. “You guys should consider it. No pressure, though.”

She rushed off again, saying something about food being ready soon and Sebastian groaned, already way too riled up for anything that didn’t relate to Y/N being naked and a bed. Or a chair. The ground. Anything really, as long as she was naked. She ran her fingers through his hair. “So… You want to just… Try? Fill me up?” She whispered. He groaned loudly and he was pretty sure his nether regions could be useful as a gearstick at this point. “I think we’ve gotten super sick. Like… Right now. A horrible migraine.” He whispered back, his lips close to hers. “I think we need to go home. It might be best…” He captured her lips with his. He was burning up, ready to just throw it all to hell and just take her right there and now. She giggled against his lips.

“Well, keep it in your pants, buddy.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes at her as she took his hand and led him to the house.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to go home early. I’ll get super sick in three hours.” She winked at him.

He smiled back at her. She better.

TAGLIST: FYI I'm adding people from my taglist from my Marvel-blog, and if you want off or on the taglist, let me know!

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @cooldreamlandsandwich

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Whump you say? Geralt gets Hanahaki

I’ve been waiting for you, Anon. I’ve been waiting for this prompt specifically and boy when I tell you I might have cried writing it...

2k ish (a little less) words long. Idk why y’all were worried, it’s me. It’s gonna have a happy ending.

tw: Hanahaki, blood mention, illness, angst with a happy ending, whump with a happy ending ---

It had started up just before they parted ways for the winter; Geralt had quietly coughed a handful of rose petals into the corner of his cloak and hidden them from sight as Jaskier gave him their yearly parting embrace. “See you in the spring, Geralt!”

“Hmm.”

You might not ever see me again, actually, the Witcher thought. He tried not to let anything show on his face; not his fear and certainly not his longing, but he ached to tell Jaskier that he loved him and that he’d miss the bard’s presence through the long and dreary cold of the winter months. Geralt also knew that if he told Jaskier the truth about his feelings that he may never set eyes on the bard again anyway, regardless of how the disease currently wracking his body developed over their time apart. He was sure that Vesemir could identify whatever the strange illness was; the old swordmaster might even have a cure ready to go in the old storeroom. If not, they could send for Triss. 

“Safe travels.”

“And you as well,” Geralt nodded curtly. He mounted Roach with all his usual grace and ease, biting back another cough and tasting the sickly sweet floral note of rose rising up his throat to coat his tongue again. 

---

“Fuck,” Vesemir sighed. “It’s Hanahaki disease, Geralt. It’s not going to be easy to cure now that the pass is full of snow.”

“What’s Hanahaki disease?”

“It’s-” the eldest Wolf Witcher scrubbed his hand over his bearded face and took a moment to compose himself. He’d seen it happen before. He’d seen human bodies buried in the ground with entire root systems crawling from their chest cavities. He’d watched young men and women alike cough entire violet or rose or daisy buds from their mouths while they shivered with fever and seemingly unending pain, but a Witcher? Vesemir hadn’t even thought it was possible for a Witcher to contract such a frivolously deadly illness. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this to you, Geralt.”

“I won’t go screaming into the hills, if that’s what you’re afraid of,” his middle-child joked, “I can’t run very far anymore without a coughing fit.”

“I can’t send for Triss or Yennefer, either. They won’t be able to do anything,” Vesemir spoke calmly and evenly. Geralt, propped against some pillows on adoptive-father-enforced bed rest raised an eyebrow. “It’s a disease that eats at you from the inside out. It latches on to, uhm, romantic feelings and grows with them until it overtakes its host completely. Or until the host, uh… confronts those feelings head on and admits them to the object of their affection.”

“So this is…” Geralt’s eyes were wide and terrified. The eldest Wolf had never seen the stoic boy look quite so scared before, and he’d seen him go through the Trials. “This is going to kill me, is what you’re saying.”

“Who are you in love with, you stubborn oaf!?” Lambert cried, marching into the room from where he’d been lurking in the hall. He startled the other two Wolves and Geralt coughed out another handful of petals. The blood that came with them was surprisingly new. 

“What do you mean!?”

“He means,” Vesemir said, as slowly as possible (so that even the great Geralt of Rivia would understand his situation), “That until you tell this person how you feel, the flowers inside you will continue to grow and dig their roots in and, if you never tell them how you feel at all, you will eventually die.”

“Then I guess my fate is sealed,” Geralt smiled sadly, settling himself back against the pillows. “My time as a Witcher is up. Coughing up flowers isn’t the worst way to go, all things considered.”

Lambert growled angrily. “I’m not ready to lose my brother yet, Geralt, so just tell us who you’re pining after and we’ll go fetch her back!”

“No.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

Geralt, growing increasingly more feverish and already exhausted from everything that had happened that afternoon, closed his eyes. “Because he deserves better than me, Lambert. He deserves so much more than I could ever give him and I’m not about to steal him away like a selfish ass and force my feelings onto him for my own sake. I’d rather die.”

“Self-sacrificing bastard,” the youngest of the Wolf Witchers snarled, storming from the room. “Ass! Cock! Fool!”

Vesemir could only nod his agreement and follow silently after.

---

Jaskier read the letter once.

Then he read it again.

After a third time through he was sure that he hadn’t misunderstood the contents.

Dear Jaskier (aka Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Prof. of the Seven Liberal Arts at Oxenfurt),

I am Eskel, brother to Geralt of the Wolf Witcher School at Kaer Morhen. I write to you now to ask for your presence at the keep. Geralt has fallen gravely ill and will not likely make it through the season. He does not know that I have written to you, but as his best friend and companion on the Path, I thought it my duty to invite you to see him one last time before he’s gone for good. He’s loathe to admit it, but he misses you and fears for your safety come springtime.

Sincerely,

Eskel of the Wolf School

Somewhere beneath the bright embroidery of his doublet and the hand-woven muslin of his chemise, Jaskier’s flighty, deeply-loving heart shattered into a million pieces. 

He grabbed his heaviest woolen cloak from its peg near the door and made for the stables at once.

---

“Geralt!”

The White Wolf opened his eyes a sliver to confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating again; ah yes. What a lovely last dream to have before I die. Standing in the middle of his bedroom at Kaer Morhen, covered with still-melting snow, was Jaskier. The bard’s blue eyes were brimming with tears and his bottom lip was wobbling violently as he gazed upon the Witcher’s withering form.

“Geralt, what’s wrong? Your father and brothers sort of explained it to me but I’m still not sure what’s happening. You’re dying?”

“Don’t worry, bard,” Geralt smiled. A loud, sudden cough wracked his body and he bent over double, spitting a blood-spattered but fully-bloomed rose out into his cupped palm. He laughed joylessly and tossed the bloom onto his bedside table. “I’ll be out of your hair, soon. Won’t this be a last ballad to write, a wolf dying as he’s eaten by flowers?”

“I don-”

“Hush,” Geralt rasped. Jaskier dropped his cloak to the ground uncaringly and rushed to his Witcher’s side. He sat on the edge of the mattress and took Geralt’s closest hand in his, grasping the appendage to his chest and sobbing into the sword-calloused skin like his tears might save his best friend’s life. “Don’t be sad, Jaskier.”

“I am sad, Geralt! I’m absolutely fucking terrified and heartbroken and crushed! Vesemir said you could heal this at any time but you just… you just won’t because you’re stubborn and an idiot and the sweetest goddamn man I’ve ever met in my life! How dare you tell me goodbye when you are perfectly capable of fixing this problem yourself! How could you promise to see me in the spring and then break your word by dying well before the grass turns green again?! You bastard!”

“You won’t miss me after another year passes,” Geralt reassured him, flexing the hand still held tight in Jaskier’s grip. “You won’t even remember me by the time the first daisies spring up.”

“How dare you,” the bard cried again. He pressed a nervous kiss to the tip of the Witcher’s pointer finger before letting go completely and dropping his head into his own hands. “How dare you say those things to me when you know full well that I love you with all my stupid, fragile mortal heart. You asshole.”

“Wh...what?” 

“I love you, Geralt!” The Witcher stared up at his friend with nothing but confusion written across his handsome features. Jaskier reached out, wiping a smear of blood away from the corner of Geralt’s mouth as tenderly as any maiden in any of the bard’s favorite romance novels. “I love you and I’ll never forgive you for letting yourself die on me like this.”

Geralt blushed. He stammered. He coughed up two or three more bloody roses and Jaskier tossed them all into the fire with rage blazing in his cornflower irises. 

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything on this gods-forsaken Continent and now you’re going to take yourself away because you’re, what, scared of something? Is it Yennefer? If she’s refusing to help you then I’ll ride all the way to Vengerberg by daybreak and then I’ll break all her fucking fi-”

“I love you, too.”

“What?” Jaskier asked, stopped mid-rant and mid-thought by the Witcher’s sudden admission. “What did you just say to me, Geralt? If I didn’t misunderstand, you said you loved me too.”

“I did. I do! I have loved you for a rather long time, actually.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve settled that,” Vesemir said from the doorway. He turned on his heel and disappeared. “See you both for breakfast tomorrow, I’m sure. Well... maybe breakfast is being a bit optimistic. I’ll see you for lunch.”

“What did he mean?” the bard asked. His eyes flitted between the empty doorway and Geralt’s guilty grimace. “What the fuck did Vesemir mean when he said he’d see us at lunch?! You’re still clearly dying and I-”

Geralt felt his fever receding and coughed experimentally. There were only a few brown, half-dried petals that fell from his lips. No blooms. He coughed again and nothing came out of his mouth at all. He grinned and laughed, tugging Jaskier up onto the bed and against his broad chest. “Vesemir was right!”

“What the fuck is going on?!” the bard begged. His hands twisted into the neckline of Geralt’s shirt, holding him still and steady. Blue bore into gold with such heated intensity that the Witcher thought he might pass out regardless of his recently healed disease, “What just happened!?”

“I- I told you I loved you and it cured the Hanahaki!”

“You had fucking Hanahaki and I was the cause of it? Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry! I should have noticed sooner! I should hav- Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“You didn- Geralt, have you been paying any sort of attention for the past seven or so years? I follow you everywhere, I bandage your wounds, I put food on your plate and a pillow under your head whenever we get the chance. I bathe you and mend your clothes when your fingers are too stiff from practicing your forms to do it yourself… you utter fool. You buffoon. You great, dumb, goofy, idioti-”

He was cut off by Geralt bringing their mouths together with such gentle but insistent pressure that all Jaskier could do was melt against him. His hands unwound from the shirt and stabilized against the Witcher’s pectorals instead. He sighed into Geralt’s mouth, swallowing down the happy sounds his dearest Witcher made in return. When they were finished pouring out their affections they sat, breathless, curled against the pillows of Geralt’s enormous bed. 

A large pointer finger slipped beneath Jaskier’s chin and tilted his face up, locking their gazes, “This isn’t how I wanted you to meet my family or see Kaer Morhen for the first time, but I’m glad you came. I know the journey through the snow couldn’t have been easy, even though I’m sure there was some magical assistance.”

“For you, my love, I’d travel the pass barefoot.”

“You’d die of exposure.”

“Not if your life was on the line,” the bard murmured against those flower-chapped lips. “For you, Geralt, I could survive anything. Just as you must swear from this moment on to survive whatever you can to make it back to me.”

“Will you go back to the academy until spring?”

“I’m never leaving your side again, Geralt of Rivia. Come flora or fauna, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Hmm. Good.”

“Just… Just don’t bring me flowers any time soon.”

[imjeralee]

I am in need of more Human!Revali x Reader HCs. Can I get a jealous Revali seeing his female love interest being romanced by some other Human!Rito villagers at a summer festival? How would Revali react and win the girl's attention back?

Hi anon! I hope this meets your human!Revali needs!!!! I have to admit I really enjoyed writing this one

Revali was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, waiting

It’s not like he was actively seeking you out at the summer festival, no, he just….wanted to see if you were going to show your face

So when you arrived, looking around the vast space with a big smile as your eyes lit up from the marvellous and colourful stands on display and the livelihood of it all, Revali would find himself staring, his heart lurching hard against his ribs once his eyes landed on you

He can’t help but stare for a long time and would find his cheeks feeling so warm but would manage to compose himself, quickly shaking his head to rid of these pesky feelings 

Instead, he’d decided to go off and do his own thing. He didn’t care what you were doing! No, why should he????

But wait, he should go over and talk to you. At least say hi, right? And maybe…maybe you’d want to tour around the festival with him?

It’s not like him to indecisive like this

However, another Rito villager beats him to the punch - a young man (let’s just call him Seth, idk) casually goes up to you and exchanges a few words.

Revali strains to overhear the conversation - but essentially Seth has asked if you would like to tour the festival together and you had said yes

Revali’s pretty pissed and punches the tree he was leaning on.

It hurts like a bitch and he curses under his breath

Also, goddamnit how could you agree so easily like that?

He finds himself following you guys around, lagging about two or three feet behind, watching you with much suspicion and distaste 

There’s a ‘Test Your Strength’ game and Seth tries it out and gets a pretty lame result.

Revali laughs and pushes through the crowd, approaching you and Seth

“Hah! You’re a weakling. Let me show you what a real Rito’s strength looks like!” Revali boasts with a grin, grabbing the hammer and slamming it so hard on the pedal that the puck shoots up, breaks the indicator and shoots off into the sky

The booth owner starts yelling at Revali and the crowd joins in to laugh, which makes Revali super embarrassed as you stand, looking at him blankly

Seth mutters a ‘This is lame, let’s get out of here.’ And takes you somewhere else

“Wait-“ Revali calls out, but you’re gone

He ends up following you and Seth all over the festival from a safe distance. When you’re at the food court, Seth finds you a table and goes off to buy food

Revali stands hidden behind a booth and the booth owner is like “Hey you! You can’t stand here! Buy something or scram!” So Revali is grumbling under his breath and forced to dish out some money - but when he properly looks at the booth he’s standing at, it’s actually selling one of your favourite snacks - so he buys some of your favourites and it also allows him to stand at a safe place so he can observe you and keep tabs

But then he sees Seth buying some food you’re allergic to and he’s about to head over so Revali steps in once again just as Seth arrives at the table. You look at Revali and Seth’s looking a little pissed

“You again,” grumbles Seth.

“She can’t eat that, you abysmal moron.” Revali barks, before he glances at the snacks he bought for you, which he thrusts into your face. “Here. Take this.”

You blink wide-eyed, but before you can speak, Revali wanders away and retreats to his safe place.

He watches as you open the packet and smile when you see it’s your favourite and Revali’s like smirking to himself, like ‘heh, I knew it’ and he watches as you eat everything he bought for you

When you leave the food booth with Seth, Revali sets off to pursue again

“Hey, what’s up with that Revali guy?” Seth asks.

“What about him?”

“He’s weird around you.”

You laugh. “Revali’s not weird.”

“Yes he is. That’s the second time he’s tried to show me up.”

“Hm…now that you mention it, I didn’t expect him to show up at our table like that.”

“It’s obvious he likes you.”

You pause. Revali….likes you?

“Wow, you had no idea, did you?”

It’s not like you didn’t, but Revali always act so mean and cold towards you, how could that mean he likes you?

Seth sighs. “Look, I don’t wanna get in between you two. I don’t wanna piss off Revali so I’m uh...I’m gonna go.”

Aware that Revali is the strongest Rito in the village and he doesn’t want to step on his toes, Seth makes a hasty retreat and you’re alone.

You set off to find Revali and when you do, he’s at the archery range and beating everyone but seeing you alone, he stops nocking an arrow, lowers his bow to scoff and goes, “Oh, you’re alone now, are you? And where did that little blundering idiot Seth go? He left? I see...well, that is indeed a shame. He is a fool, but it’s good you came to me because I could use your company.”

You stare at him, stunned by his words.

Then Revali says, “It’s a team up challenge now.”

Team up? Oh, he means.... you came to him at the right time....for a team competition.

Shaking your head, you sigh and walk over to grab a spare bow and arrow from the weapons rack, joining his side and you begin to nock an arrow. You hear a sigh and glance over.

“What?” you ask.

“Your posture is atrocious. Allow me.” He goes behind you regardless and straightens your back, pushes your legs apart and helps you adjust the bow properly by curling his hand tightly over yours and leaning close to you that your faces are millimetres apart. “There. That’s better.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he brushed his fingers over your hands and lingered so close behind you, with his lips by your ear. Smooth move, you think.

When he returns to his spot, he smirks at you and the competition begins.

Little do you know that he’s really goddamn happy.

[ssamie]

eight. “nakahara chuuya”

kozume kenma x fem dazai!reader

(bsd x hq)

tw: mentions of suicide and mild violence

masterlist.         suicide freak!

instead of eating out with the team, her lovely afternoon turned into a not-a-date-but-kinda with chuuya 

"yaknow, chuuya.. you haven't changed at all" she commented. she twirled her straw around the glass of her milkshake as she briefly glanced at chuuya from across her 

"hah?! what's that supposed to mean??" chuuya exclaimed angrily 

"i've always wondered about this" she hummed "but where do you get your embarrassing hats?" she asked 

chuuya clicked his tounge as he angrily sipped on his milkshake. "say what you want, vogabond" he said 

"i bet you're still going on and on about suicide despite your age, aren't ya?" chuuya sneered 

"yeah" she nodded 

he sighed and leaned back on his chair. "atleast pretend to deny that" he said 

she sighed and leaned back as well. "what are we doing here, chuuya?" she asked with a huff  "im guessing it's not a date. well, unless it is, then-" 

"shut up! it's a not a goddamn date!" chuuya snapped 

she chuckled and threw her hands up in mock surrender. "chill out, chuuya" she cooed  "and not like i'd care anyways." she muttered "im still chasing after a certain pudding head so i'd rather this be a little reunion, if anything." 

chuuya's scowl softened at her words. his brows nit together as he blinked dumbfoundedly at her. 

"you love someone?" he asked, uncharacteristically quiet. 

"i wouldn't say love" she shrugged "more like close friends, im currently convincing him to commit a double suicide with me" 

"oh." chuuya mumbled 

she rested her elbows on the table and placed her chin on her hands. "why did you find me, chuuya." she asked, but with her tone it was more of a demand for the answer 

chuuya didn't reply but simply crossed his legs over the other. he chuckled lowly and leaned in closer to her face. "im here to take you down." he whispered "you and your agency may have fooled and escaped from akutagawa, but not me." 

chuuya grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head closer, so that their noses were touching. 

"im your old partner, after all" he smirked 

"indeed you are" she smirked back 

chuuya grinned, mischief in his eyes as he roughly pulled her head back and tilting it to the left. he then leaned in and whispered something in her ear. 

"what the fuck?" kenma muttered in disbelief 

"old partner?" kuroo muttered in confusion 

a few of the boys, specifically kenma, kuroo, yaku, lev, and yamamoto, were hiding at the other side of the cafe. they were seated by the farthest booth covered by a huge plant, trying to spy on the two. thanks to chuuya's loud voice, they were able to hear bits of the conversation. 

"maybe they were lovers?" lev suggested with an innocent smile on his face 

"who even is he?" yamamoto asked in a whisper 

"well, he could be an ex boyfriend or a friend, we wouldn't really know" yaku said with a sigh 

"he has a point" kuroo sighed "we don't really know anything about her, if you think about it" 

"we don't know what she was doing or who she was with before this" 

"whatever, just shh!" yamamoto shushed him 

"ah! i think he looked at me for a quick second" lev shuddered nervously 

"what?? he saw you??" yaku asked frantically "that's because your head is almost touching the fucking ceiling! get down!" 

"he's looking this way!" yamamoto whisper shouted 

"shut up, yamamoto! you're too obvious!" 

chuuya grumbled as he met eyes with the boys. he briefly glared at them before averting his eyes back to the girl. "those brats are watching us. tch" he said 

"i know" she shrugged nonchalantly. "though, i would advise you not to hurt them" she chuckled

chuuya smirked and stared her down tauntingly. 

"or what?" 

"i'll kill you." 

"ah, i see.." she hummed "you led me here to fight, is that it?" she looked around the deserted alleyway he brought them to. 

chuuya clicked his tounge and nodded in response. 

"well, i appreciate it" she chuckled "i wouldn't want kenma to see such violence" 

"stop babbling about that kenma and fight me!" chuuya scowled as he ran towards her, throwing punches which she dodged. just as he was about to hit her, she grabbed his arm and punched him in the stomach, making him cough out his saliva. 

"you call that a punch?!" he exclaimed as he swung his fist straight to her stomach, sending her back until she hit the wall. 

"it doesn't even count as a massage." chuuya sneered "get up." he scoffed

she sighed and lifted herself up from the ground, stretching her arm and wincing in slight pain. "geez, i thought my blocking arm would get torn off" she said with a soft chuckle 

"she predicted my moves.." chuuya whispered to himself 

"we've known each other for a long time, chuuya. i know everything about you, your moves, your pacing." she said 

"i wouldn't have been a proper partner if not, right?" she said with a teasing smile

"tch" chuuya scowled and threw a punch at her again. 

she groaned in pain as his fist made contact with her cheek. "why are you so weak?" chuuya asked. just before she could fall back, he caught her by the neck, pushing her back against the wall and squeezing hard on her throat. 

"the y/n i know would never be cornered down this fast, this easily." he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "what're you plotting in that head of yours" 

she didn't answer but simply smirked as his grip on her throat tightened. 

"answer me or i'll kill you!" chuuya exclaimed "right here, right now!"

"no you won't." she stated with a carefree smile "after all, i am a former mafia executive. and a current traitor, as you all see me." she chuckled "my execution for those reasons would be the council's desicion"

she smirked as chuuya's expression morphed into one of conflict and distress 

"if you do kill me before that decision without permission, your act will be considered as betrayal" she said "you'll be punished, or worse, executed" she cooed 

"and if i overlook all of those and kill you, you'll still be happy since you still managed to die." he scowled 

she smiled and waved her hand about. "yeah, so go ahead. cmon!" 

chuuya scoffed as she simply continued to pester him. 

"coommmee ooonnnnn~" 

chuuya didn't answer but simply stabbed a dagger straight to the wall beside her head. the blade managed to graze her cheek, letting a lone drop of blood travel down her skin up to the bandages on her neck. 

she chuckled as she watched him stomp off in irritation. "oh, you're not going to?" 

"chuuya driven out of the organization because of me had a nice ring to it too" she laughed 

"shut up." he scowled 

she plucked the blade out of the concrete wall and waved it around with a teasing look on her face.  "well then, aren't you gonna walk me back like a proper gentleman? ~" she cooed 

"like hell i will!" he snapped back. he sighed and turned back around, continuing to make his way out of the deserted alleyway. 

"just shut your mouth and get outta here, you ass" he said as he lazily waved his hand in goodbye. 

"i'll try to find a man or woman willing to kill themselves next time" he said 

in an instant, her eyes sparkled. she looked at his retreating figure with wide eyes and a look of delight. "chuuya!" she exclaimed  "i had no idea you were such a good person!" she said 

"that was my way of saying 'go to hell', idiot!" chuuya barked back 

"let me tell you this, y/n" he said "don't think this will be the end of it." 

"there will be no second chance!" he yelled 

she simply smiled fondly and shook her head "no, wrong!" she sneered "dont you think you're forgetting something?" she called out, making him stomp in anger 

"dont-you-think-youre-forgetting-something? ~" she sang out 

reluctantly, chuuya buckled his knees and pointed at her with a fake bashful look. "there will be no second chance!" he exclaimed in a higher pitched voice, imitating a girl. 

she didn't respond with the proper reply they agreed on, but simply looked at him with a blank smile. 

chuuya blinked back and repeated his words. 

"n-no second chance.. HEY YOU SHOULD BE LAUGHING!"

"well, he didn't walk me back after all" she sighed to herself. she was currently making her way back to the agency since kunikida has been calling her nonstop. the megane has been whining about her missing work, while atsushi was simply begging her to come back to keep kunikida calm

on her way back, she passed a convenience store, which had an annoyingly huge amount of people bickering infront of it. 

"oya?" she mumbled 

"what's happening- eh?" she sweat dropped upon seeing yamamoto arguing with a man 

she looked around to meet eyes with kenma, who looked like he wanted to anywhere else but there. kuroo noticed her too and smirked at his friend. "your lady's here, kyanma" he teased 

kenma looked at her, a look of impatience and discomfort present in his face. 

"good evening, everyone!" she greeted loudly 

this caused all three of the nekoma boys, and three of the huge muscular men to look her way. 

"what seems to be the problem here?" she asked with a nonchalant grin 

"oi. walk away quietly before we give you some trouble, girl." the man arguing with yamamoto scowled 

she simply side eyed him before looking back at kenma. "ken-ken, whyre you out so late?" she asked with a smile "i thought you had a new game you wanted to play" 

"well.. they won't let us go." kenma answered quietly, pointing to the men with a frown

she faced the men with an exaggerated pout "why are you bastards causing my pudding trouble, hm?" she asked in a scolding tone 

"y/n-chan.. you shouldn't provoke them" kuroo said with a nervous smile 

"hah?! you tryna act tough, lil girl?" the men laughed "these scoundrels have been loitering in our spot." one man scowled "so we came to teach them a lesson." he grinned maniacly as he lifted the hem of his shirt, showing the gun inserted in his pocket. 

"good grief." she sighed "another angsty gang. this is getting old" she whined  "last time i checked, you didn't own this store so these boys are free to stay here whenever they want" she said 

"and carrying a gun without a liscense is a major offense." she pointed to his pocket. 

she then pushed kuroo, kenma and yamamoto away. "but since you're so hell bent. we'll spare you the trouble." 

"good riddance~" she cooed at the men 

she pushed the nekoma boys by their backs, urging them to walk faster while yamamoto looked back to flip them off. 

"oi oi oi,, not so fast" the men laughed. one of them tugged her back by her arm, laughing once he saw the bandages and the cuts she had on her face from her previous fight with chuuya. 

"a girl like you tryna act tough is laughable. but since you're here, you might as well play nice and be our little toy" 

she grimaced and pulled her arm back, sending them a dirty look. 

"after all, it's pay back for giving us all a headache." he said with a smirk 

"oi! get your filty hands off y/n-chan!" yamamoto exclaimed angrily 

she looked back at him and smiled in gratitude, though she simply tucked her hands in her pockets and ignored them. 

"im afraid i won't be agreeing to your request." she scoffed "we'll be leaving now" she announced as she grabbed yamamoto and pulled kuroo and kenma along 

"get back here, you bastards!" the most bulky man reached out, trying to grab one of them. 

unfortunately for him, the person he manged to grab was kenma. 

"h-hey!" kenma shrieked, trying to pull his arm back 

she stopped in her tracks and immediately ran back to his aid. she pulled his other arm back and shielded him with her body. "hands off." she said with a dark look in her eyes. 

"you little-" the man was cut off as a fist came contact with his face. 

a loud and unnerving cracking and popping of bones could be heard as her fist rammed on his face. 

"my, my.." she cooed, holding her hand up as she watched the man stumble back on the ground. "normally i'd say i'd hate for this to resort in violence.. "

"but that would be a lie" she chuckled 

kuroo, kenma, and yamamoto gulped as they watched the fight ensue. "y-y/n-chan, let's just leave." kuroo says nervously "the guys have guns" he warned 

"correction. one of them has a gun." she said 

the two remaining men laughed at her claim and pulled out guns of their own. "don't get so cocky, little girl" 

she simply ignored them and continued speaking to kuroo, as if it were a normal conversation. "those two blockheads don't have a single bullet in theirs." she said nonchalantly 

the two men gulped as they laughed nervously. 

"only an idiot would point a revolver at someone without a single presence of a bullet in them." she laughed 

"ah, sorry kuroo-san! another correction. none of them have a utile weapon in hand" she chuckled 

kuroo cocked his head in confusion. "then what about him.." he pointed to the man on the ground 

the poor fellow who had to take a gruesome hit was still on the ground, sporting a broken nose and a missing tooth. 

"you see, stuffing a gun in your pocket is pretty stupid!" she scoffed "stupid, stupid stupid!" she taunted. she stuck her tongue out at them and pulled on her eye, teasing them like a child. 

"it'd be easy for the other person to grab it." she said "that being said.." 

she showed them the gun, hanging on her finger by the trigger guard. she smirked and pointed it at the bruised man, ignoring the other two as her finger grazed the trigger. 

"now.. tell me, mister." she cooed "are you the leader of this gang?" she asked 

"y-yes." the man answered reluctantly 

surprisingly, she didn't pull the trigger on him, but simply smiled in delight. "i see!" she exclaimed with a smile "well then, since you're the top dog, i'd say you should tell your little puppies to run off and leave my friends alone!" 

"i-" 

before he could utter another word, she pulled the trigger. but she didn't shoot him of course! she refuses to expose her friends to such inhumane acts. 

"good! im glad to hear that!" she cheered happily, a stupid and giddy grin forming on her lips. 

she thew the gun in a nearby canal and stuffed her hands back in her pockets. "if i see you bothering anyone else again," she trailed off, her grin faltering as an aloof expression loomed her features 

"i'll punch you twice and shoot you five times." 

but as quickly as she it had disappeared, her smile once again came to light. "well then, it's getting late.. bye-bye!" she waved at them 

the men took this as a signal to run, which they did. 

the three nekoma boys looked at each other with a horrified and hesitant expression before looking back at her. 

"y/n..?" kenma called out 

she turned around, her aura softening as her (e/c) orbs clashed with his honey hued ones. 

"well then, let's head home?" she said to them 

"uh.. we were-" kuroo cut himself off by clearing his throat. "we were heading to the train station!" 

"perfect! should i walk you there?" she asked them "the agency is a few blocks down the station so it should be fine" 

"y-y/n-chan!" yamamoto exclaimed "hm?" she hummed back questioningly "marry me!" yamamoto exclaimed, his eyes wide with a pink hue coating his cheeks 

"sorry, yamamoto-kun" she cooed "but marriage is the farthest thing i have in mind at the moment" 

she glanced at kenma, who was too busy silently hissing and glaring at yamamoto to notice even her 

"i do, however, have our double suicide in mind, kenma-kun" she said. kenma stopped with his cat-like hissing and looked at her. "oh.. is that so.." 

"mhm. well then, you all should head back!" she said “but kenma, you should stay with me!" she proposed 

"why?" kenma sweatdropped 

"we could have loads of fun back in my place! you'll love that, won't you?" she asked excitedly. she hugged his arm close and rested her head on his shoulder, thus making walking a bit hard for them, but she didn't mind. 

"no." 

"aww! we could share the bed, and have-" 

"oya oya~" kuroo cooed "am i hearing this correctly~" 

"y/n-chan!! marry me instead! I'd love to stay at your place!" yamamoto cried 

"ke-n-ma~ what do you say?" she cooed, blatantly ignoring yamamoto. kenma grumbled and looked away from them. he tried to pull his arm away from her, but failed. 

"how are you guys acting so normally?" he asked "are we not gonna talk about y/n just beating up some guy and firing a gun?" 

"nope!" she hummed 

"what we will talk about, however, is my proposal of staying at my place!" she whined "i could please you all night long-" 

"im walking away now." kenma announced as he pulled his arm from her and fastened his pace 

"wait! i was talking about games and movies!" she reasoned out with a laugh "kenma!" 

"i am walking away. goodbye." 

im so bad at writing fights smh 😔

[twokinkybeans]

Touch Me, Please [Starker Fic] Pt.3

Summary: Tony Stark has never told anyone that he’s still a virgin. He doesn’t want to sleep with people who only want him because of his outward persona. So instead, he hires an escort. Things get a little more heated than either of them had expected. Tags/Warnings: Escort!Peter, Virgin!Tony, nff, nsfw, sexual tension, teasing, Peter is 22, Tony is 53, oral sex, 69. Taglist: @starkerswonderland @staticwhispersinthedark @starkerprince @parkers-stark​ @bluestarker (let me know if you want to be added!)

Notes: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS SINCE I POSTED FOR THIS I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE WAIT Y'ALL!!! I come bearing good news though! This was supposed to have three parts, but the plot started living its own life and now we're definitely having a fourth part as well ehehehe. Hope y'all enjoy! -Kim

Read the fic here on AO3

Or click here to find the previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2

-

Peter knows he’s fucked. Absolutely, terribly, fucked.

And to be honest… Even that’s an understatement.

Peter clutches his coat tighter and fastens his pace. He’s snuck out of the enormous labyrinth that’s Tony’s home, and is now on his way to the bureau’s HQ. It’s still early in the morning, a little over 7 am, and Peter hopes to catch one of his managers before they start their meeting.

Peter made a grave mistake, and all he can do is spill it all out and pray that he can keep his job. He’s had unsafe sex with a customer. If there’s one thing that he should pay close attention to, it’s that. He never made a mistake like this before. However, with Tony, he completely threw his cool and composed sugar baby persona out the door; his mind lost to the wealthy man he only met last night. Tony may claim to be a virgin, which according to his eager yet sloppy techniques isn’t too hard to believe, but still. Peter shouldn’t have risked it.

He eyes the building in front of him and hesitates. He could just get a test done without his bosses knowing; play sick until he gets the results. But if they were to find out… He’d lose his job for sure. And contrary to popular belief, he’s not in the industry just for the money. He likes his career. 

In good faith, Peter steps forward and presses the doorbell.

-

Tony wakes up when a golden glow casts over his body. He smiles groggily. In his haze last night, he must’ve forgotten to close the curtains. He sighs and turns around, grabbing the sheets to tug them up a little higher. Slowly, the surroundings are getting to him. The distant sound of traffic rushing through the busy streets of NYC. The buzz of the elevator as it sweeps past his floor...

...and the complete lack of another human’s breath.

Tony swallows and his eyes flutter open. A harsh sting rips through his chest when he sees his bed is indeed empty.  “Peter?” He calls out, half-heartedly expecting an answer but not at all surprised when it stays dead silent.

-

It’s safe to say that the following days, Tony is in such a sour mood that his employees nearly cringe each time he walks across the room. He should’ve never hired an escort to have his first-ever sexual encounter with. The plan was destined to fail from the get-go, and it had. 

“Tony?”

Tony turns around to find Pepper standing in the doorway of his private office. Pepper has been his personal assistant for years now, and he is aware that he wouldn’t survive a single day without her skills in his company. She’s seen his worst more often than not - and she doesn’t deserve to be the one to take his anger - but Tony can’t help but glare. “What?” “Jeez, they were right. You’re a fucking asshole today.” Pepper says calmly and raises her eyebrows as she closes the door behind her. Tony can feel some of the tension fade from his posture and he casts his eyes down.

“What happened?” She proceeds to ask. Tony shrugs. How could he tell her? “I did something stupid.” “I figured as much.” The PA places a stack of files onto his desk and sits down in the chair opposite of him. “Personal troubles, or Stark Industries-related?” “Personal.” “Ah, good. That’s one less of a worry.”

Tony glares again, but this time it’s more playful. Pepper smirks. “Gotcha,” she hums, seemingly pleased with herself. “Now, tell me what happened.” “I can’t.” “I’m sure you can, it’s-” “It’s too embarrassing, Pep. Please, I gotta deal with this by myself.” Pepper raises her eyebrow at his words and leans onto the wooden surface.  “Then deal with it before you drag Stark Industries into whatever it is.” She shoves the stack of paper forward and smiles faintly. “After you deal with these, of course.”

“Of course.”

-

It’s late in the evening, and Tony swirls the whiskey around in his glass. He finished the work right before dinnertime and decided to take the rest of the night off.

Deal with it.

Tony snorts. How could he? Peter left. It’s plain and simple that the kid didn’t want to stay. His pretty, sweet words had been nothing but lies and deception, and Tony feels like a goddamn fool for falling for the act. Peter is an escort. Pleasing people, telling them what they want to hear, it’s his job. Tony can’t blame him. He only blames himself.

Yet, it doesn’t keep him from grabbing his phone and navigating towards the escort website. He sniffs once, finding his way to the catalog. It should be easy to find Peter. Right? Tony scrolls down the list and frowns when he hits the bottom of the page. Mmh. He scrolls back up and sits a little more upright when he can’t seem to find Peter’s picture. He taps the search bar and types in his name.

No results found.

In a wave of panic, Tony types out the bureau’s number to contact them and waits anxiously. He has no intention of bothering Peter ever again, but now that it seems he vanished, it makes him feel strangely panicked. As if every link he had to the boy is simply gone. As if nothing ever happened.

Except something did happen.

“Good evening, this is Eva. How may I help you?” “Uhmm- Hi. It’s Mr. Stark. I’m, eh, I’m looking to book Peter again? He was here last night?” “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to inform you, sir, but I’m afraid Peter is temporarily unavailable. I could put you on the waiting list for when he returns?” “Please.”

And like a stupid idiot, he disconnects straight after. He sniffs and lowers his phone. He wonders if he just made another mistake.

-

Peter sucks at his teeth, his foot restlessly tapping onto the floor. He looks at his scheduled bookings and stares at the one empty spot. There’s only one client left to call, but Peter doesn’t know if he should. After a long tirade, and thankfully, a negative STD test, he’s back in the game and good to go. But, if he couldn’t keep himself together last time… He’s not sure if it’d be professional to go back to Tony.

Sweet, innocent, handsome Tony.

“Hey,” Harley pokes his head past Peter’s shoulder and grins. “I see you’re free tonight. My pal Dave is throwing a party at the Frizzles. Wanna come?” Peter rolls his eyes at his coworker and grins. “And get Dave to hopelessly flirt with me again? No, thank you.” “Oh, come on!” Harley throws his hands into the air in desperation. “Dave is your type!” “He’s not,” Peter grumbles, nearly shuddering at the idea. “Good fella, but no, not for me. Y’know I’m into rich old classy dudes. Heck, so are you!” “Hey, no need to attack me.” Harley lowers his bum on the edge of Peter’s desk and cocks his head. “You barely ever have a night off. Don’t you wanna have some fun? I’ll try and keep Dave off your back.” “Well…” Peter sighs and stares back at the empty spot in his schedule.

“I actually have a client.” “What do you mean?” “It’s the last free spot, and I have one more client to secure a booking with me. I just…” Harley frowns, his face displaying a sudden seriousness. “Peter, did this client hurt you?” “What? No!” “Then why are you looking all gloomy at the mere thought of that one client? Is he- Did he force you to not use protection? Peter, we can have him blacklisted, and-” “It’s not at all like that, please Harls, I promise.” “Then tell me why the fuck you’re so strange about it. You’re never strange around clients. Fuck ‘em, get them hooked for more and tadaa, that’s a healthy clientele, it’s how you taught me.”

Peter groans out loud in frustration and shoves his chair back a little, trying to distance himself from the scribbled down phone number at his desk. “I like him!” “What?” “I… I like him. Dammit. He’s really fucking different than the rest of them. I’ve only slept with him once, but he’s got me hooked, not the other way around.” “Then why’d he call us again? Eva told me he sounded pretty nervous.”

Peter’s face loses all color when Harley’s words crash down on him, crumbling the reality he’d build around himself. “No, no Harley, don’t enable me on this one. It’s bad luck. I shouldn’t do it.” Peter scrunches his nose. “Tell Dave I’ll be at the party.”

Harley simply grins, his eyes glimmering mischievously as if there’s something only he knows and Peter doesn’t. “Sure thing.”

-

It’s been two weeks since the damned party. Peter doesn’t feel any better about himself. As expected, Dave had followed him around all evening. Harley, traitor he is, was nowhere to be found. In the end, Peter couldn’t take it anymore, and he straight up told Dave he wasn’t interested. Thank god the lad took it pretty well, but it doesn’t make Peter feel any less shitty about it.

Peter really should just focus on his job and put his mind away from both Dave and Tony. It’s for the best. He sighs and stares at the next appointment on his list. The name is hidden, a feature they have for clients who are high in on their privacy. Peter sighs and grabs his car keys to go to the appointment. 

-

Tony’s tapping his foot anxiously while he tries not to stare at the elevator. It’s needless to say he’s not doing a very good job at doing so. Peter’s going to be here again. Oh, God. Tony can’t shake the feeling that maybe he shouldn’t have accepted the booking when Peter’s coworker called him.

[stephic-writings]

The Greatest Game -- Felix x Sylvain (Round One)

Oh hey! Is this me writing a fanfic finally? Gasp! Is this me writing a Fire Emblem Three Houses fic too? Gasp again!

I’ve actually been sitting on this fic for awhile now, but I revisited it pretty recently! And what’s more is that the amount of stuff that I want to include with it means that it’s a chapter-based fic, something that I don’t do very often. Whoa! I’m excited to work on this in between things, as I’ve missed having a cooldown writing or just a fanfic to work on in between my work. I hope you guys enjoy it too! I miss writing romantic comedies~

Especially when I get to write tsunderes. Felix is the best tsundere archetype, and I love it.

WARNINGS: Sexual Tension, Idiots Being Idiots, Probably Some Naughty Stuff Later On Ships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius Chapter Word Count: 2198

Read on AO3 too!

It was always a game to him. A competition. A hunt. The hunter would find its prey, stalk it down, and wait until it exhausted itself. And when it was weak and vulnerable, the hunter -- predator – would strike. To the prey, it was all but a brief flash before it was all over from there and their once pleasant life was spiraled into chaos. But to the hunter, it was a thrilling game. The adrenaline caused by the sensation of a successful hunt was enough to send a shiver down his spine. He engrossed himself in such behavior until he devolved into an intoxicated beast who was only sated by the hunt.

And it was what disgusted Felix about Sylvain. He assumed this kind of hunter/hunted mentality would come from the boar himself, but no. Even Dmitri was reasonable enough to put a damn muzzle on himself to calm down even after war broke out, especially whenever their childhood professor was involved. That red-headed menace, however, was a far different story. Uncontrollable, unsated even after five years of potential maturity that seemed to skip over him completely, Sylvain found himself less interested in the art of war and more in the art of seduction -- the hunt. Many warriors wished to be as skillful at combat as Sylvain was at charming women, for it truly was a feat – a talent once could say.

Not that Felix would outright say it. To Felix, Sylvain was nothing more than a degenerate heathen who needed a goddamn reality check. Seducing women was not something to take pride in, because obviously those women needed much more training in resisting emotional manipulation. Sharpen your mind like any blade, and you could see through such fiendish tactics that a dog like Sylvain would use.

Instead of chasing skirts, Sylvain should have been taking his training more seriously, for it took Felix approximately two seconds in one solid movement to knock him down. A simple sweep of the leg, a hilt to the correct pressure point on the back of the neck, and Sylvain was groaning on the ground with Felix’s foot pressed on that thick skull of his.

“…You’re dead. Again.”

“Aw, come on. There was a fly distracting me that time.” Sylvain grunted as Felix stepped off him. His hair was even more tossed around as he sat up, fresh dirt on his cheek and tunic as he gave an annoyed frown. “I feel like you’re just purposely ‘killing’ me in these combat scenarios now.”

“Of course I am, you idiot. Every enemy out there is trying to ‘purposely’ kill you, so you better get your act together.” Felix made his way to the weapon’s rack, tossing aside his training sword amidst the pile of worn-down wood. Lately, he would wear down these training blades faster than he anticipated. Every time he’d do a sparring session with his red-headed companion, he’d go through at least three of them. Oh well… Another blade, for another round. “One more time.”

“Really?! We’ve already gone at least five rounds.”

“Are you saying that you have endurance in the bedroom but not in a fight? That speaks wonders about your endurance as a whole…”

Sylvain jerked his head away to hide the little bit of tarnished pride he had before he finally managed to get himself to his feet again. He could feel his knees shake from all the bruises he’s gotten on them. Felix always did think it was funny to go for the knees. “You really know how to wound me, Felix. My body, my ego. Are you angry at me or something? Is this about what happened last night? I mean, I already said I was sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change the fact that I found you broke into my room and fell on me with the scullery maid.”

“…Okay, I admit. That was a pretty bad situation. But it was dark, and your room looked just like mine from a darkened perspective-“

“I don’t need any more excuses, Sylvain.” Felix’s eyes furrowed at his red-headed combatant, hand gripping tight to the new training sword as he wandered his way towards one of the training dummies. “Chasing women and flirting your way into people’s hearts won’t help you survive out there on the battlefield. What do you plan on doing when you’re faced with a great enemy? Wink at them and ask them to dinner?”

Sylvain paused for a moment before a smirk crept onto his face. “Well, if it works, it works.”

“Sylvain.”

“What? Why are you even bringing all this up? Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous, Felix.”

The swordsman let out a scoff, blowing his bangs from his eyes as he wipes away the sweat from his neck. Or at least, Felix told himself that. He had to place his hand over the vein on his neck that throbbed in annoyance at the mention of Felix’s jealousy. Felix was not jealous of Sylvain. This dumb oaf was full of himself if he even thought that. And Felix didn’t even need to say a single word to express how ridiculous the idea was as he turned to Sylvain, brown eyes piercing daggers into the red-haired man.

The expression prompted Sylvain to sigh as he threw his arms out to the side in frustration. “What do you expect me to do? I’m not some war machine like you or Dmitri. Hell, if I had it my way, I’d say we talk to Edelgard, take her out to a nice dinner, and let her and Dmitri talk things out under a candlelit moonlight.”

“That sounds ridiculous and delusional.”

“Then what’s your big plan?” As Felix hacked away at the stuffed hay figure, Sylvain made his way over, leaning against the unclaimed training dummy nearby. His eyes lazily watched Felix, seeing that the aggression in his eyes were tainted by a hint of annoyance and a desperate need to distract himself from something. Sylvain arched an eyebrow in thought. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of one. Does that mean we’re just going to waltz up to the front gates of the Empire and kill every last one of them?”

“If that’s what we have to do, then yes.”

“What kind of plan is that? At least my idea has some diplomacy involved.”

With Felix’s next swing, the training sword had found itself lodged into the mannequin with his powerful Felix’s strike. Sylvain’s eyes widened, feeling a bit of cold sweat beat down as Felix let go of the sword and glared at Sylvain.

Sylvain’s expression relaxed slightly as he noticed Felix’s demeanor change. Yes, he was still as irritated as ever, but he stepped up to Sylvain to get in his face. Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle. Even after five years, Felix was still shorter than he was. It made Felix’s attempt to size him up all the less intimidating. Good, for it was enough for Sylvain to stand his guard, looking down to Felix as he observed the very distinct scowl wrinkles under his eyes and on his brows. Sylvain tilted his head, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he leaned closer to listen to Felix’s snarls.

“Seduction is not diplomacy. And I know for a damn fact that it won’t win you any battles, Sylvain. So rely on your manipulation tactics all that you like. Just know that it will get you killed in the end.”

“You think that I can’t charm my way to a win?”

“I know you can’t.”

“Then how about we bet on it?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed at Sylvain’s words, just as the red-head predicted. As expected, Felix could never turn down a challenge -- especially not one against Sylvain. It was only confirmed officially when Felix crossed his arms and quizzically muttered under his breath. “What kind of bet?”

“It’s simple. You’re saying that I can’t take down someone with just my charm alone, right?”

“I’m saying it will get you killed.”

“And let’s say I don’t get killed… Then I win the battle, right?”

Felix didn’t outwardly admit it, but the look in his eye let Sylvain know that he had a point. “Get on with it.”

“I’m betting that I can win a fight with just my charm alone. I won’t make any swings or dirty blows. Instead, I’ll use all of my hard-learned skills as a romantic to take down my greatest opponent.”

“Greatest opponent, huh?” Felix unfolded his arms, resting them on his sides as he challenged Sylvain with his stature. “And who would that be? Ingrid? Mercedes? The head chef?”

“ You.”

For someone as guarded as Felix was, his eyes widened when he processed Sylvain’s words. A challenge of charm alone… To take down Sylvain’s greatest opponent, Felix himself. He must have been joking? What kind of idiot was he? A serious one, Felix realized. For when his eyes looked away to process the notion, they returned back to a sultry gaze -- one that was much closer than Felix had recalled just mere seconds ago. The swordsman grit his teeth, reaching out and planting his palm firmly against Sylvain’s face as he pushed him away. “Stop fooling around. Your jokes aren’t funny.”

“You think I’m joking?”

Felix wasn’t expected for Sylvain to take his wrist in response. Rather than a firm jerk that he was expected, the swordsman found himself guided back towards the cavalier. Felix stared in disbelief, an arm around his waist that kept him back in his place as Sylvain very gently caressed the swordsman’s calloused fingers. He didn’t know how to react to the red-haired man’s gesture like this. Instead, he was left in the hold with eyebrows furrowed and body temporarily stunned.

Sylvain grinned back at him. “If I can seduce you in two weeks time, then I win. If I can’t, then you win. How’s that sound?”

“You? Seduce me?” Felix gawked, jerking his hand back but still remaining in Sylvain’s embrace. “Have you grown bored of your usual prey?”

“I wouldn’t say that. But you’re sounding a lot like you’re backing away from a challenge, Felix. What? Think you’d lose?”

“N-Nonsense.” Felix’s attention broke from Sylvain’s eyes as he felt fingers brush just underneath the hem of his shirt. He couldn’t help but make a face at the sensation. Of course Sylvain’s fingers would be cold… Felix forced his attention back to Sylvain again, this time with an expression far more serious. “If I accept this challenge from you, you nor I would be losing anything from it. A bet has to have something at stake for it to be worth taking.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Sylvain’s gaze softened in thought before he loosened his hold around Felix. But just before he could step away, a hand shot out, latching onto Sylvain’s forearm and keeping him there. Felix’s gaze didn’t focus on the brown pair that looked at him in surprise. “If I win, then you’ll cease your fraternizing once and for all and focus on your training more. I’m not going to let you flake out and die on me out there, got it?”

A chuckle came from the red-head as he stepped back to Felix. “I hear you, I hear you. Have to keep my promise and everything, right?” Felix was quiet, only causing Sylvain to let out a small sigh as he looked at Felix with a gentle smile. The bet wasn’t even on, and already Sylvain wanted to lay on the charm. How could anyone resist a grumpy face like that? “If I win though… You have to do whatever I tell you to do. One thing. That’s all.”

“Knowing you, you’d weasel your way around it. Saying that you want me to do ‘anything you want.’” Felix gripped the front of Sylvain’s tunic, pulling him down to his height as he glared. “You won’t win against me, Sylvain.”

“You’re sounding awfully confident there, Felix.” Sylvain grinned at the swordsmen, who only returned an irritated expression back. “This isn’t a battle of swords anymore, so I hope you’re ready to be disarmed by me.”

A grunt was all that Felix could retort with as he tossed Sylvain’s tunic forward to get the other man from him. Felix was the one that sounded confident? Sylvain was over there talking big when the bet hadn’t even started yet. That kind of arrogance just made Felix want to win even more. The swordsman went back to the bench, picking up his coat before he made his way towards the exit of the training grounds. Felix wouldn’t drop his guard for a degenerate like Sylvain. He always won in their competitions before, he would continue to do so -- no matter how confident Sylvain was in himself.

“By the way, Felix?”

“What now, Sylvain?”

“...Nice ass.”

Felix stopped dead in his tracks, his expression screaming Excuse me? He turned to do a double-take, eyebrow arching and the faintest blush over his pale face as he turned towards Sylvain. Sylvain winked in response, giving a wave to Felix as the swordsman stormed away and leaving Sylvain behind with a smirk on his face.

[fanmoose12]

“Hange!” Levi shouted, as he banged his fists against the piece of offending furniture. “Open that goddamn door!”

“Levi…” Hange sighed wearily. Levi didn’t like the tone of her voice. Hange never spoke like this. “Just leave me alone.”

“The fuck I will!” Levi almost growled. “Open that door or I swear I’ll break it down!”

“There is nothing you can do!” Hange screamed. A moment later, she started coughing, and Levi heard as she slid down to the floor. “There is nothing you can do,” she repeated, her voice raspy. “It’s best if I stay here, alone, until… Well,” she laughed bitterly. “You know.”

“I’m not letting you fucking die, Hange!”

“And what are you going to do? You saw those people, you saw how they’ve died! You know you can’t help me.”

“Well, the least I can do is try,” Levi slid to the floor as well, not caring about his pristinely white coat. He leaned against the door. “Hange, please…” his voice was quite, almost a whisper. “Just let me help you.”

“No, Levi, I can’t. This thing is highly contagious, I can’t risk you becoming infected as well.”

“Bullshit,” Levi answered, getting angry again. Why Hange wouldn’t listen to him? Just for once in their goddamn lives? “I’ve been treating those patients alongside you. And I still feel fine, so let me in.”

“Fine, maybe you aren’t infected, or maybe you aren’t as susceptible to the disease as I am, but Levi! Remember those patients. They’ve died before we could do anything! I don’t think I have much time left.”

“And if you continue to sit here, wallowing in self-pity, you’ll have even less time. Don’t be an idiot, Hange. You’ve told me yourself that this new bacteria has a very short lifespan. What exactly you’ve told me?”

“I said they probably live for only 24 hours, but Levi—!”

“Don’t ‘but Levi’ me,” he grumbled, cutting her off. “I know that this is just your theory, but more often than not, your theories are correct, Hange. I’m willing to bet that this one is correct as well. So if I manage to keep you alive for just a day, I believe that you’ll be able to fight off the disease.”

“You really believe that?” Hange’s voice was quiet and unsure.

“I do believe that,” Levi replied. “I will do anything to save you, Hange. You did the same thing for me, after all.”

“I did?” Hange chuckled, surprised by his words.

“Of course,” Levi nodded, even though Hange couldn’t see him. “Remember our college days? I’ve gotten a bad case of stomach flu, and have been puking my insides for three days straight. And you haven’t left my side even for a moment. Or, that time,” Levi closed his eyes, feeling the old wounds reopen. “When I got into that car accident? When I was lying in the hospital bed, all broken and despaired? When I have been grieving and mourning Isabel’s and Farlan’s deaths? When all I wanted to do was to curl up and fucking die?”

“Levi… I—”

“No,” Levi continued, ignoring Hange’s words. “You have to listen to this, Hange. I wanted to die back then, there was no reason for me to live, but you… you gave me a reason. You haven’t left me even then, you found this job for me, and—”

“Erwin got this job for you,” Hange reminded. “I just gave him your resume.”

“Whatever. Erwin gave me a purpose, but you… your kindness and friendship gave me a reason to get up in the mornings. I know it sounds fucking pathetic, but…” Levi trailed off, rubbing his face. “You make me happy, Hange. I love my job and I love helping people, but even more so, because I can do this alongside you. So, Hange, please, let me in. Let me help you, because I don’t think I can live, if I lose you as well.”

For a long moment there was silence, and Levi already prepared to say something more or to act on his promise and break the fucking door, when it finally opened.

Hange stood on the other side, leaning against the chair and breathing heavily. She was pale – cyanotic, the doctor in Levi said, but he didn’t listen to it. Cyanotic meant… no, cyanotic meant bad things, awful things, but Levi wasn’t going to focus on them. Hange was just pale, she had two night shifts in a row and she was understandably exhausted. A good night sleep was all she needed to feel better again.

“Let’s get you in bed,” Levi hugged Hange by the shoulders, leading her into one of the wards for the infectious patients.

“Are you saying this to all of your patients?” Hange giggled.

“I’m glad to know that the disease hasn’t affected your sense of humor. It’s still as horrible as it always have been.”

“Oi, it’s rude to talk to your patient that way!”

Levi shook his head in exasperation. “Just change your clothes and lay in bed. I’ll go and bring the needed equipment.”

“Levi,” Hange touched his arm. When he looked at her, there was a tiny, fond smile on her lips. “You don’t need to tell me all this stuff. I’m also a doctor, remember?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Levi nodded. “Sorry, just a habit,” he took Hange’s hand into his and briefly squeezed it. “I’ll be right back.”

After Levi brought everything he needed, connected Hange to the numerous tubes and wires, injected her with the strongest antibiotics their hospital had, there was nothing left for him to do rather than to stay by her side and watch every change, hoping for Hange’s fast recovery.

“Levi…” Hange slowly began. Levi turned his gaze away from the monitors and looked at her. But just as soon, he averted his eyes – Hange seemed so frail, so feeble in that bed. “If I d—”

“You won’t.” Levi instantly cut her off, refusing to hear what she wanted to say next. “You’ll survive this shit and will be back on your feet in no time.”

“But those patients!” Hange protested.

“Those patients were already weak. Their immune system was compromised, and they had a dozen of concomitant diseases. You, on the other hand, are young and healthy. You’ll be fine, and I don’t want to hear another word from you about death or some other depressing thing. Better yet, stop talking and get some rest.”

“That’s doctor’s orders?” Hange grinned weakly.

“You’re goddamn right,” Levi showed a small smile of his own.

Hange stared at him for another moment, before closing her eyes and falling into a restless slumber.

 ***

When she woke up, Hange's condition had considerably worsened. Her Sp02 was rapidly decreasing and Levi even had to put an oxygen mask over her face. With his heart in his throat, he watched how Hange was desperately trying to breathe, her chest heaving up and down.

“It hurts, Levi,” she croaked out. “It hurts so much.”

“I know,” Levi’s one hand held Hange’s and another one was softly playing with her hair. “I know it hurts, Hange, and I’m sorry. But you are strong, you can endure this. Soon it will pass, and you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I…” Hange had another coughing fit, which shook her body. Levi shuddered as he saw blood on the white sheet of her bed. “I… need,” Hange continued when her coughing had subdued. “I need a reason… to survive.”

“Alright,” Levi gently caressed her palm. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

A small smirk appeared on Hange’s bloodied lips. “That’s a dangerous promise, doctor Ackerman.”

“I’m a dangerous man,” Levi shrugged, his eyes darting to the monitor beside Hange. It showed that Hange’s Sp02 almost returned to normal. Levi let himself relax. “So what do you want?”

Hange looked away from him, as an almost shy expression appeared on her face. “A date,” she whispered so quietly, Levi had to strain his ears to hear it.

“A date? With whom?”

“With whom do you think?” Hange glared at him. “Of course, I’m asking you to arrange me a date with Mike.”

“Mike?” Levi raised his eyebrows. “But he’s married!”

“You’re lucky,” Hange took a deep, shaky breath. “You’re lucky I’m weak now, Levi. I would have kicked you otherwise. I was talking about a date with… you.”

“Oh,” Levi’s eyes widened. “You want to go on a date with me? Alright, y-yeah, okay. Yes, I agree.”

Hange gave him a critical look. “Are you agreeing just because I’m on my death bed?”

“Idiot,” Levi growled, resisting the urge to smack her head. “You’re not on your death bed, and I didn’t agree out of pity or anything. Actually…” Levi trailed off, feeling his cheeks redden. “Actually I wanted to ask you out for a very long time. Just couldn’t find the courage to do so.”

“You wanted to go on a date with me?” Hange asked quietly. Levi didn’t know if her voice was so weak because of her illness, or she just couldn’t believe him.

“Of course, I did, four-eyes. I still do. I… I had a crush on you… for a while.”

Truth be told, Levi had a crush on Hange for as long as he knew her. However, something always stopped him from confessing his feelings. Maybe, he just didn’t want to make a fool out of himself, or maybe, he was afraid of her refusal. He didn’t want to destroy their friendship with his stupid, inappropriate feelings. Levi had never been so happy to be proven wrong.

“You have a crush on me?” Hange’s lips curled into a smile, and Levi’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. He loved that smile so much…

“I think we’ve already established that,” Levi hid his blushing face, lowering his head. Well, one of his fears did come true. Talking about his feeling was the worst. “Better tell me, where do you want to spend our first date?” Levi began, trying to keep Hange’s mind away from her pain. “I would have thought of something myself, but,” he shook his head. “You know I suck at this kind of things.”

“I want to go to the amusement park,” Hange sighed dreamily. “I want to go on a Ferris wheel. We’ll be holding hands and looking at the night city. And cotton candy! Yes, we will be sharing a cotton candy.”

Levi made a face. “I hate those things. They’re sticky and way too sugary.”

“Too bad, Ackerman,” Hange smirked. “You’ve already agreed to this.”

Levi sighed, admitting his defeat. “Alright, what else do you want to do?”

“Mm, then we should take a ride on a roller coaster, the biggest one they had. I hope, you’ll be screaming like a little girl.”

“Keep dreaming, four-eyes,” Levi softly chuckled.

“And then I’ll drag you to the shooting range. I’ll make you win me the biggest plushie they have.”

“And the ugliest, no doubt.”

“Ah, you know me so well,” Hange softly smiled.

“That I do,” Levi agreed. “Now, c’mon, stop talking,” his eyes slightly narrowed, as he saw Hange’s saturation begin to decrease again. “Save your breath and go to sleep. I’ll be there, when you wake up.”

 ***

Levi was slumping in his seat, watching every rise and fall of Hange’s chest. Hoping that movement doesn’t stop.

“Are you watching me sleep?” Hange mumbled without opening her eyes. “Creep.”

“I’m not a creep,” Levi answered, feeling his lips involuntarily twitch into a smile. “I’m a professional.”

“Mm, that’s what all creeps say.”

“Are you feeling better?” Levi got to his feet, deciding to inject Hange with another antibiotic.

“Not really,” Hange answered, avoiding his eyes. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“For a few hours.”

“Have you gotten any sleep?”

It was Levi’s turn to avoid Hange’s eyes. “I’ll rest when you get better.”

“Levi,” Hange chided. “You have to get some sleep.”

“You know I don’t need it much.”

“Alright, maybe, you don’t need to sleep,” it looked like Hange wasn’t going to give up easily. “But what about your other patients? Don’t you have to take care of them?”

“Who are you taking me for, four-eyes?” Levi rolled his eyes. “I’ve asked Mike and Erwin to look after them. Besides, I’m helping hundreds of patients right now.”

“Huh?” Hange’s face scrunched into a confused expression.

“I’m saving your life, dumbass,” Levi said in a far softer voice that he intended. “And by saving yours, I’m saving lives of other patients you’re going to help after you get back on your feet.”

“Levi…” Hange searched for his hand, and when she reached it, she took it in hers and squeezed. She looked deep into his eyes, not knowing what to say. She wanted to say so much, but she couldn’t do it. Not now, not until she actually gets better.

“It’s been almost fifteen hours since you’ve become ill,” Levi changed the subject, feeling the strange tension in the room. The look in Hange’s eyes was so intense and almost unreadable. “Ten more hours and you’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve told you already – I am a professional,” Levi huffed. “And I never give my patients false hopes.”

“So, I’m your patient, huh?” Hange looked at him with that mischievous glint in her eyes. With that expression on her face, she seemed almost healthy, almost normal. “Say, doctor Ackerman, am I your favorite patient?”

“No,” Levi replied curtly. “And let’s not make a habit of it, four-eyes.”

“Let’s not a habit of what? You taking care of me?”

“Let’s not make a habit of you getting dangerous diseases, idiot.”

“Can’t promise you anything, but… I’ll try.”

“With you, four-eyes, I couldn’t have hoped for a better answer.”

“Jeez, that’s so embarrassing,” Hange chuckled quietly. “But I’m getting sleepy again.”

“Drugs make you sleepy. Besides, your body needs as much energy as it can get. And I don’t think I need to explain it to you, Doctor Zoe.”

“Maybe, I just wanted to listen to the sound of your voice,” she showed Levi another one of her gentle smiles. “I’ll rest my eyes then,” she said, closing them. “Just for a while.”

Levi nodded and leaned in, kissing her sweat-covered temple. “Take your time.”

 ***

Levi didn’t know for how long he was sitting there, watching Hange and the monitors beside her bed. Her condition wasn’t improving, but it also wasn’t worsening. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. She was… stable. It gave Levi hope. That Hange had defeated the disease. That she would be alright. That she wouldn’t leave Levi alone.

Levi checked his watch. It’s been almost 24 hours, since Hange had contacted the disease.

He decided to perform an experiment of his own.

Slowly, with his heart pounding in his chest and his hands trembling, Levi took off Hange’s oxygen mask. His eyes were glued to the monitor, looking for any change. He scanned each parameter again and again – Hange’s Sp02, heart rate, blood pressure, and temperature – everything seemed to be normal.

He waited for a minute, than two. Nothing changed. Levi almost breathed out in relief.

And then Hange opened her eyes.

“You know as much as I like to see your face after waking up,” she drew out, smirking. “You’re looming over me like some kind of murderer.”

Levi didn’t reply, he said absolutely nothing, staring at Hange with wide, almost unblinking eyes.

“Um, Levi?” Hange called, feeling slightly uneasy. His gaze was quite unnerving. “Is everything alright?”

Again, Levi didn’t speak, but Hange suddenly noticed that he was holding something in his right hand. She squinted her eyes, trying to take a better look. “Oh,” she breathed out, as she finally understood what he was holding. “Is that my oxygen mask?”

Levi nodded, still staring at her.

“And I can breathe without it?”

Levi nodded once more.

“Oh,” Hange couldn’t quite wrap her head around. “So does that mean that I…”

“Yeah,” Levi sighed, letting go of the mask and leaning closer to Hange. “You’re getting better, Hange.”

���Well, that quite unexpected turn of events,” she chuckled.

Levi slightly pulled at her hair. “What the fuck do you mean? Did you doubt my skills as a doctor?”

“Maybe, the tiniest bit?” Hange giggled, making an innocent expression.

Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Idiot,” he scolded her fondly.

“Mm, but I’m glad I’ve survived. Because that means we can go on our date!”

“Let’s start with getting you back on your feet,” Levi reminded. “And Hange?”

“Yes?”

“Please, take a shower before going on a date with me.”

Hange burst out laughing. “For you, my clean freak, I’ll even wash my hair!”

“What an honor,” Levi grumbled with a smile on his lips and a soft look in his eyes.

[smol-and-grumpy]

What We Had Was Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean asks himself what he’s fighting for. It seems like he’s losing the battle and he wonders what in his life was real and what wasn’t.

Warnings: Angst, just a tad, a little fluff maybe too.

WC: 1614

A/N: I don’t know if it’s any good because I’m not really familiar with the angst thing but I had this stuck in my head and I wanted to put it down somehow.

Dean takes a sip from his tumbler, the tips of his fingers turning white from his tight grip on it. He lets the alcohol warm his throat before he leans his head back to rest against the wall and closes his eyes with a sigh. 

The floor of his bedroom is cold underneath him. The air is thick, it makes it harder for him to breathe, at least it feels like it.

He bends one knee and takes the phone that’s been lying shattered on the floor next to him, thumbs at the home button, sees it springing to life, even with the spiderwebs all over the screen.

His whole body is shaking and he’s holding to the glass and the phone like his life depends on it.

Dean thumbs over the contacts, tapping his thumb on a familiar name.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He’s about to hang up, think it’s a mistake and she’ll probably already asleep. How could she not, it’s already late.

“Hello,”

Her voice is groggy from sleep. Dean feels something warm spreading in his chest.

He clears his throat, his mouth opens and closes as he tries to bring something past his lips. 

Anything. 

“Hi,” He says at last, squints his eyes close.

“Dean? It’s something wrong?”

He can hear panic in her voice, shuffling of a blanket in the back, and he pictures her sitting up in her bed. The bed he spent many nights in, the one that feels comfortable and warm, especially when she’s in it.

“‘M shakin’. I...” He exhales and swallows another mouthful of brown liquid. “.. Sorry I woke you up. I had to call you to calm myself down.”

“Dean, why are you shaking?”

“‘M mad,” He grips the phone tighter.

“Why are you mad?”

“Angry too. At everything. God.... Especially at God.”

“Dean, are you drunk?”

He chuckles. “No, ‘m not. Far from it.”

“You’re mad and angry? Why?”

“Long story,” He pauses, thinks about what to tell her, settles on, “I feel like we’ve been played. Everything is slipping out of my grip. I am losing control. Everything I thought was real turned out to be a scam,” He can feel the tears sting at the back of his eyes, making their way to the front and he sniffs before taking another burning sip. “But we were real, weren’t we? You and me, it was real.”

“Dean,”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Leaving.”

“Dean, are you crying?”

He doesn’t answer instantly, not before swallowing down the tears. “Nah,”

“It’s okay to cry, you know? You remember when I was mad and angry for whatever reason? I cried, too. It’s okay to cry. You have to let it out.”

“Yeah, I know,” He says, sets down his glass and brushes away at his cheeks. “Saw you the other day when I drove by your favorite coffee shop while I was in town, I’m not anymore though, otherwise I would have come to see you, rather than calling you,” He takes the glass back, empties the content in one go, squints and welcomes the burn. “You looked great.”

“You could have stopped and said hi,”

“You were with someone, I didn’t want to intrude,”

“Oh,”

“Does he make you happy? I hope he does, you deserve nothing but happiness.”

“So do you, Dean. But no, it’s not like that. I don’t really have to explain it, because I feel that it’s none of your business but I feel that you need to know in order to help calm down whatever’s brewing inside you. He’s interested in Mark from Accounting, so I don’t think that he will ever make me happy.”

Dean lets out an exhale, feels like he’s been holding his breathing since she started talking, is relieved that it’s not what he thinks it was.

And then it bursts out of him, loud, sharp, his throat rumbles at the laughter and he shakes his head, thinks he’s a goddamn idiot.

“I’m sorry,”

“Dean, you’re scaring me. Why are you calling me? You’ve never called. I haven’t heard from you since --”

Her voice falters and she doesn’t even have to say it because Dean knows the end to the sentence. Since the day he walked out on her. Ran away from what they had because he thought that it’s better that way. 

“Don’t want you to worry. I just wanted to hear your voice. You could always calm me down.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Of course I’m worried! Did you hurt yourself, Dean? What’s on your mind?”

“Miss you, is all.” He smiles, because it’s true.

“Dean…”

He hears her voice tremble, knows that she’s probably crying, wants to actually be there to comfort her. Maybe they could comfort each other.

“‘M sorry I was a fool. Should never have walked out from the only real thing I believed I had. It was real. The laughter, the sweats, the tears, the cuddles, the kisses, its was real, right?”

“Of course it was real, Dean. You’re still scaring me, what is wrong?”

“That’s what it was. The only good thing and I managed to screw it up because I thought that I have to play the hero and save the goddamn world.”

“You did save the world, Dean.”

“No, I didn’t,” He closes his eyes, because the tears won’t stop running down his cheeks. “I thought I did but we didn’t. It’s over, baby. Everything we worked for, every hope and dream I had, every chance of maybe go back to you and have a reasonably normal life, where I can get on your nerves and you can get on mine and we laugh about how stupid we both are --”

“What do you mean? Dean, you’re not going to do anything stupid now, do you?” 

“I’m not doing anything to myself, don’t worry about that.”

“I’m still worried.”

“I know,”

“Dean,”

“I wish I could turn back time,” He grins at the memories. “What we had…” There’s a tightening in his throat again, something that makes it hard for him to swallow down the tears. “Just want you to know that when I think of you, I feel better. You were the one who could calm me down and cheer me up. The only one who could make me feel at ease even if my life was a fucking tornado.”

“Dean! Fuck. You’re fucking scaring me. Is this some sort of a goodbye call?”

He ignores her because he needs to get things off his chest.

“I know I never said that I loved you,” He goes on. “I think love is such a stupid word. It’s said too often. People throw it around all the time. But what I feel is more than that. Someone has got to find a word for that.” He chuckles nervously.

“...”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me.” He stands up now, and walks over to sit down on his bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Dean, the fuck are you doing?”

“What I always do,” He mutters. “Trying to save the world.”

“Shut up!”

“So bossy!” He mumbles with a grin.

“I mean it. Listen here mister, you’re going to be fine, alright? You are the most selfless, caring and sweetest man I know. You made me happy, Dean. That should count as something, no?”

“You should add funny to the list.”

“Don’t push it, Dean,” There’s a laugh on the other side and he thinks that he’s missed that the most. “What I wanna say is, that you’re one of the good ones, you know? One that I would have kept.”

“I should have kept you, too.”

“I keep you in my heart, though.”

“You’re in mine. Every fucking morning, you know, I ask myself how you’re doing. If you’re happy.”

“I am. Not as happy as when I was with you, but I am.” 

“Good,” He is relieved but it saddens him nonetheless. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Happy?”

“N-no. ‘M not. But now I am. I just wanted to know if you’re happy.”

“Fuck, Dean, what does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you and I really need to go now, promised Sam that I’d help him with something,” It’s not entirely a lie. They need to go face the inevitable. 

“Okay.”

“Just know that I love you, alright? I miss you every day.”

She chuckles. “You said the L-word.”

“Yeah, well, because nobody did find a more suitable word for it in the time I’ve been talking to you.”

“I love you too, Dean. More than you know. I wish I you wouldn’t do anything stupid but knowing you, I know that you will. Whatever it is, take care alright? Maybe come back in one piece and stop by, even if it’s late.”

“I try.” 

“Try harder.”

“Jesus, I miss your sass.”

“And I miss your cockiness.”

“Fuck, baby, I really fucking love you. Be good, alright?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you want to do, how about… I don’t know… you don’t?”

“I can’t go back now.”

“Thought so. Can’t blame me for trying to stop you, though.”

He grins, “Thanks for everything. I thought I just call to say goodbye but now I feel like you gave me something to keep on fighting.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Alright, I need to go, I’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.”

Dean hangs up, not waiting for her to answer, because he knows that if he did, it would be harder for him to walk out of that damn door and face whatever God throws at him. He tosses the phone onto his bed before he stands up and walks out the door.

[clockworkswans]

you are my dream.

summary: ‘I like Suho. Is it wrong that I look at Seojun more than I should too? That I...I also like how they watch each other? Do they feel the same way I do?'  an ot3 fic to end love triangles for GOOD.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763412

                                                          ~

                                              Suho. The Moon.

Keep to yourself. Manage what you can. Deal with the past by...well, don’t deal with the past.

Suho orbited these rules - more like self-inflicted shackles - with careful calculation. Grades? He could master. Friends? Didn’t need them. He didn’t need a repeat of the scar named Seojun. Couldn’t again deal with frosty glares, couldn't deal with the thin-lipped smirk coming from the mouth that once laughed softly beside Suho in the too-early hours of the morning.

Their shared hangouts and sleepily composed song drafts felt like a lifetime ago...

What can I give to return to those days? To listen as Seojun boasted over his gaming records...To watch his hands trace across his motorcycle, lip caught between his teeth...To hear Seojun laugh with me again...I’d swallow my pride if I only knew how to break down the wall between us. Seyeon would hate to see us so torn apart…

But as with after every winter, the spring came. Lim Jugyeong. His old friend, new friend, and stranger-on-a-rooftop-i’ll-never-see-again-but-wish-you-well.

She skipped, fell, stumbled and ran into Suho’s life before he could understand he’d been waiting for the rain to stop and the skies to clear.

He clumsily fell right back into her orbit; tentative, sullen, scared, alone, smitten and clinging onto the fragments of hope he found in each interaction, Suho began to breathe again. Jugyeong’s kindness warmed Suho out of his loneliness; he opened up bit by bit and in return, she shared her secrets and ambitions and fears.

But Seojun haunted Suho. His remarks and jabs prickled Suho out of his carefully designed nonchalance. Whereas Jugyeong brought him into the present, Seojun’s presence reminded Suho of a hidden part of the past, a self he’d locked away and was trying hard to keep away.

Suho knew his feelings were complicated. Even now, when he was happy dating Jugyeong, he felt frustrated and jealous. It was misdirected, Suho knew this. Each of Seojun’s lazy grins bit into Suho’s skin like a flame held too close. Seojun liked Jugyeong but Suho couldn’t focus on one emotion; he disliked the way Seojun looked at his girlfriend but there was something unnamable burning hot against his ribcage, as though Seojun was pressing his fingers to his chest and keeping Suho’s gaze right there, in the space between the three of them. An empty space didn’t seem to be lacking anymore. There was something new waiting to fill it.

I dare you, Seojun’s gaze seemed to tease. I dare you to see what you truly want.

Weeks of unspoken words - and fights over things that were never quite about the right thing - finally culminated in the car accident. He remembered running out after hearing Seyeon's song. Remembered Seojun's shout and the car hurtling towards them-

Suho blinked, awake and dreary. He could already sense the throbbing aches of his injuries and groaned.

He was hit with a horrible memory and gasped.

Seojun? Was he awake? Was he okay?  Please don't take him from me too-

“Suho! Please, be careful,” the girl’s voice sounded far away but the arm it belonged to gripped him tightly, fingers trembling. “You want to sit up? Okay, no, no, let me…”

Suho’s heart calmed at the sight of Jugyeong sitting by his bed, her open face kind and concerned. He managed a small smile before wincing.

“I’m...okay. Seojun? Is he…?”

“His arm is broken but other than some bruises, he’s fine, Suho, I promise.”

Jugyeong’s eyes grew wet and her voice shook as she continued. “We were all so worried but you're both so stubborn and strong. Thank you for waking up. I don’t know what i’d do…” She broke off and gave in to the tears this time.

Suho pulled her close to him and they embraced until the pain didn’t seem so unbearable. Suho whispered ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ and Jugyeong didn’t ask why. He was grateful because he had no idea if he was praying for himself or his own tears were for Seojun.

I can’t lose you either of you. I...like you both so much.

A knock sounded at the door. Jugyeong wiped away her tears with his sleeve - Suho suppressed a grin and nodded for her to open the door.

“Uh...hey. Glad you’re awake. Bye-”

“Seojun, wait-” the words burst from Suho before he could compose a response as equally cool and casual as Seojun’s.

His friend stood in a hospital gown, adorned in one of his favourite black and white leather jackets - of course he’d requested it as soon as he woke, Suho thought, fondness softening the embarrassment he felt. He scanned Seojun's face and traced the faint bruises and shadows under Seojun’s eyes.

Beautiful eyes. Why are his eyes so goddamn beautiful?

“Stare much? Do you want an autograph?” Seojun scoffed, ducking his head and running a hand through his dishevelled hair.

A quiet giggle came from Jugyeong and she beamed between them. “You two are just ridiculous, you know.”

Before either of them could question her further, the doctors began to do the daily rounds, but not before Suho felt his breath catch. In the small, plain hospital room filled with scars and tangled histories, a new page turned over. Between himself, Seojun and Jugyeong, something precious began to shape itself.

                                                             ~

                                               Jugyeong. The Stars.

Peaceful days bloomed after the accident. Jugyeong found herself enjoying her studies, studying outside of school to prepare for cosmetology exams and tests, and relaxing with her friends and boyfriend.

I’ve come so far from the trembling girl who had no friends. I’m so proud of myself.

Although Jugyeong didn’t yet have the courage to face school without makeup she knew the time was closer than it ever had been. She would get there at her own pace, learn to love herself gradually, be content to share her friends’ affections and trust they were genuine. They loved her for her.

Suho likes me for me.

She didn’t hide the goofy grin splitting her face. She didn’t care if people in the library stared at her. She was so happy. Especially as in the following weeks after their hospital discharges they’d been hanging out so often, she, Suho and Seojun.

In fact, Jugyeong couldn’t remember the last time they’d been apart. After school, they held movie nights at Suho’s place - when he was lonely and didn’t want to admit it so Jugyeong planned a crash-in with Seojun. Sometimes they went to the arcade or out for food and karaoke with their friends, followed by a late walk, just the three of them. It often ended in light bickering over who was walking who home; Jugyeong dealt with the two idiots by declaring whoever started the fight next ought to kiss the other.

They were both rather quiet afterwards and Jugyeong watched their cheeks turn violent shades of pink.

I like Suho. Is it wrong that I look at Seojun more than I should too? That I...I also like how they watch each other? Do they feel the same way I do?

Jugyeong wasn’t quite brave enough to ask Suho about his feelings, not when her own were fogged with doubt. All she knew was: the three of them filled in each other’s missing parts - Suho was quiet, smart and cool, Seojun burned bright and laughed loud, and Jugyeong?

Well, every group needs a hug-first-talk-later soul. She smiled to herself, happily lost in thought as she waited for Suho outside by the playground. She reached a hand to her mouth and slowly traced her lower lip. The memory of her first kiss with Suho in the forest filled Jugyeong with a sweet aftertaste. But it still felt...lacking. Not because it was Suho.

Someone was missing.

She never felt that way when it was the three of them hanging out; her best days belonged to their school lunch hangouts or shared classroom notes; they belonged to weekends of part-time work with Seojun and Suho visiting them on breaks; they belonged to soothing Suho when his father stressed him out again, or sharing makeup tutorials with Seojun’s sister and laughing to the sound of Seojun’s shower singing.

She’d even managed to convince the boys to indulge her cosmetics practices. Suho and Seojun would sit cross-legged on her bed as they let her exploit their pretty faces with makeup tutorials.

“Hold still, please,” she would beg as Seojun squirmed. Suho would scoff quietly beside him but blink quickly when Jugyeong turned her brush and attention his way.

“You both look beautiful,” she told them once, surprised by her own confidence. There was a vulnerability in the way Suho smiled back at her, and when Seojun tilted his head towards him, the smile only widened.

“What?” Seojun asked. “You only just realised I’m hot?” The husky quality of his voice made Jungyeong swallow. He was looking at Suho the same way he’d eyed her up in that photoshoot.

“No.” Suho’s voice cut through the tension but his words created a different kind of pull. “I knew a long time ago.”

“How long?” Seojun’s demand was a white-hot flame. His fist sat closed beside Suho's open hand on the bed, the space between them almost non-existent.

Suho shrugged and cleared his throat. “Long enough to bury it. Should we eat?” he casually said, changing the subject. Jugyeong didn’t realise she’d become frozen and was staring like a fool.

“O-oh. Yes. Let’s eat! You can help me order, Seojun,” she said quickly, tugging him up by the arm and dragging him to the door. “Stay and...listen to some music!” she told Suho, who blinked, adorably confused, as she dragged his best friend from the room and into the hallway.

She watched Seojun struggle to regain his cool for a few moments as he scanned the delivery menu, pretending his thoughts were anywhere other than in the room upstairs, beside Suho. But Jugyeong knew how scary it was to accept your true feelings. It had taken her a long while too.

“Are you feeling okay?” She placed the back of her hand to his forehead and Seojun’s gaze held her own.

“Well, I am now,” he said, his lips twitching. Despite the tease, she could read him better now. She shook her head, smiling fondly.

“You’re both fools. My fools.” She said it lightly enough but cupped a hand against Seojun’s cheek, smiling as he instinctively leaned into the touch. He seemed to realise a moment later and hesitated. She reached up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek before the courage escaped her again.

“W-what was that for?” Seojun’s eyes widened. He pressed a finger to the spot on his cheek.

“It was from both of us. He just won’t admit it. I thought you were a man, hm?” Jugyeong couldn’t help but tease him. Really, Seojun was such a bluffer. She adored it.

I hope we can all be happy together.

                                                          ~

                                                   Seojun. The Sun.

Despite his numerous personal struggles with friends and his mother’s health, Seojun never paid much attention to who attracted his attention; the pretty girl smiling at him in the hallway of the trainee building, the barista at his favourite coffee shop who had dimples and a guitar tattoo on his right hand.

It never mattered. Beautiful girls and boys attracted Seojun’s eye but having met many trainees, friends and people across different friendship groups, he knew he’d always come back to him. Back to  Lee Suho. And more recently, back to Jugyeong too.

Why’s it so hard to believe they have room for me?

The two people who could challenge him and appreciate his quieter sides and his passionate side too....Seojun wanted them. He wanted them both beside him, to be brave enough to admit it. He had forgiven Suho a long time ago for the pained history between them, and asked for forgiveness too.

But when the pain left, hope and something tender took shape; Seojun felt threatened by the overwhelming newness of it. The completeness of watching Jugyeong drag Suho up to sing with her in their favourite karaoke booth. The way they shared looks and included him too.

Jugyeong’s presence had been the glue to the frayed string of fate between Suho and Seojun, he knew this now. She’d woven her own string into theirs and created a kaleidoscope of colours known only to them.

                                                         ~

Seojun felt the kiss coming a mile away and yet, it still surprised him.

After so much hard work, their graduation day arrived. Seojun found himself suited up and with nowhere to go after the ceremony. His family had gifted him flowers and after forcing him to take many, many photos, left him to enjoy the evening with friends. Only he’d been indecisive and excused himself from every option; there had been a few parties planned by rebellious students and one gathering at Soojin’s house but...he just wanted to feel at home. So he found himself at Suho’s place, where Jugyeong was already, and smiled.

“Hello. Room for one more?”

“Always,” she said, letting him in. Suho sat in a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up enough for Seojun to appreciate his muscle definition. He swallowed and greeted him as cooly as he could.

They sat together on the floor for a while and played some games and Suho teased them both about their studies finally paying off, to which Seojun and Yungyeon teamed up to beat him at the next game.

“I had a great tutor,” Jugyeong said, all giggly and delighted and looking at Suho like he was the moon. Which he was, Seojun supposed, eyeing him without shame. He was looking away anyway. Suho was cool and beautiful and Seojun felt he could burn up the sun for a bit of his attention. If Suho was the moon, Jungyeon was the stars; scattered in pieces of dreams, love and insecurities but binding everyone together.

If I'm the sun, I burn and burn until there’s nothing left.

“Careful, don’t hurt your brain.” Suho’s voice clipped at his thoughts. Seojun scoffed and nudged him with an elbow.

“Never fear, my friend. I can’t hurt what’s not there.”

“True.”

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to agree.”

“Then study more-”

“Excuse me but remember what I said would happen the next time you fight,” Jugyeong piped up. She gave them a warning look and although it was playful, Seojun felt a sense of competition light him up from the inside.

He leaned closer to Suho, placing his hands on either side of his legs.

“What? No words, smart boy?”

Suho kissed him first. It shouldn’t have caught Seojun off-guard, especially as he half-initiated it, but it did.

Stupid. You’re so stupid to think a kiss from Lee Suho wouldn’t absolutely destroy you. You fool. You’ve wrecked yourself for the both of them now.

The kiss was brief but hard and Seojun had enough time to slip a hand around the back of Suho’s head, drawing him closer. When he pulled away, their foreheads pressed together. He swallowed.

“I want to play you something. Both of you,” Seojun said. If he didn’t do it now, he’d never get a more perfect opportunity to try. He led them into Suho’s music room - pausing briefly to squeeze Suho’s hand as the brief pain they shared flared up. Suho stood by the piano and Jugyeong sat on the stool with Seojun, her body warm and safe against his.

He played for the both of them, the song he’d tried to start and finish and rewrite over and over again in their months together. The honesty of it poured out in gentle piano chords and a deeper, pained but intimate voice. Seojun was so proud of it. Proud of them. When he was finished, he turned and smiled.

“Thank you,” Jugyeong said. She met him halfway and this kiss was the opposite of his first with Suho; gentle and slow. She chased his mouth, surprising Seojun, and they shared a laugh as they relaxed and tried again. When they broke away, Seojun sensed Suho coming to stand closer, and they sat on the sofa together for a while, tracing hands, lips, lines and scars still not quite faded.

“Let’s make our own path,” Jugyeong said brightly, head against Seojun’s shoulder, hand in Suho’s free one. His other hand curled around the sofa to reach the back of Seojun’s neck, where he toyed with the strands of hair, making Seojun shiver and lean into his touch. The quiet intimacy of it was irreplaceable. Seojun knew he’d found a home amongst the two of them.

They fell asleep in Suho’s bed, tired and happy, Jugyeong wrapping her arms around Seojun’s chest as Suho cradled her from behind. They drifted off into dreams, curled around each other; the stars scattered between the sun and moon to keep them connected.

[harringrovetrashrat]

heyyy uhhhh can i get a #43 with a side of #3 and umm, can I add on some insercurites for free? how much? all my love and appreciation?? dang I've already maxed out my card but you can have my heart...

Anon, anon, anon.... I’ll do it for free.  The love an appreciation is very welcome tho (i’m a leo bastard) ;)

Why this prompt gave me trouble, I HAVE NO IDEA.  It took FOREVER to get myself going, I even had to do a fucking twitter poll, and I’m still unhappy with how this came out.  So, on the house, I’m gonna rewrite this again later.  Because there’s not enough of anything in here.

That all being said, I don’t fully hate this and I wanted to get something out for ya.  And let you know that more was coming after this.  (Fic under the cut)

--

Steve watched as Billy leaned against the lifeguard tower, finger twirling one of Casey’s curls, making her blush.  He sunk lower on the plastic lounger, glaring through his sunglasses.  It wasn’t like he thought Billy was really into her.  But still.  It made his heart clench and his stomach all queasy whenever Billy flirted with someone else.

Steve knew he wasn’t bad to look at.  That he was pretty cute.  But after Nancy and the tunnels and everything, he’d kind of lost his appeal or something.  Girls didn’t flirt with him, like, ever.  And it wasn’t like he was looking for their attention, but it would have been nice.  To get confirmation you weren’t fucking hideous.  Because Billy was gorgeous.

Like made Steve sweat the first time he saw him gorgeous.  Like, model gorgeous.  Like a fucking sun god, all tan skin, freckles, and muscles that Steve just wanted to run his tongue along, to bite and fawn over--

Steve groaned quietly and pushed his sunglasses up, pressing the meat of his palms to his eyes.

They’d talked about it before.  Talked about how Steve didn’t need to worry, but sometimes he didn’t know why Billy was doing, well, whatever it was they were doing, besides the obvious us both knowing about monsters thing.  Nothing like shared trauma.  Maybe it was because he was the only other guy in town who was okay having another guy’s dick in his mouth.  Steve sighed and grabbed his stuff, catching Dustin’s attention.

“What?” He asked, coming over.

“You guys want pizza and ice cream?  On me.” Dustin perked up and grinned.

“Hell yeah!  Can’t see why anyone would say no to that!” He went back over the The Party, gesturing animatedly.  They cheered and Steve ignored the way Billy’s eyes darted over and didn’t leave him until he was walking out the gate.

--

Steve fidgeted with the remote, hating himself and hating Billy and hating Hawkins.  He hadn’t heard anything from Billy, even though they supposedly had plans tonight.  Well, they had their usual It’s Friday let’s get wasted and fool around thing.  At least, he thought they did.  What a fucking chump.  He scrubbed at his eyes, ignoring the pit in his stomach when the clock hit 1 in the morning.  Ignoring that Billy should have been here 3 hours ago.

Steve had really thought things were getting better.  Billy had been staying the night, been staying for breakfast, and it had made Steve yearn for something domestic.  He wanted to spend every morning dressed in his underwear and one of Billy’s shirts, making them omelettes.  Give him his coffee, just the way he likes it.  Have Billy pull him down for a kiss that’s barely a kiss because they’re both smiling.

And then he ignored Steve for 3 days.

So Steve had gone to the pool.

And there was Billy.  And Casey.

Billy had ignored him the whole time.

And now here he was, somehow still under the impression that Billy might have come over for their usual Friday hangout.  That maybe Steve could pretend for a little bit that he mattered to someone.  That one fucking person wanted to spend time with him.  Wanted to be around him just because.

He wiped at the tears welling in his eyes and stood up, accepting that it was time to call it a night.  As he passed by the front door to head up the stairs, someone began pounding on it.  Steve let out a bitten off shriek and clutched at his chest.  Whoever was there wasn’t bothered by the noise, just kept pounding away.  Steve licked his lips and grabbed the bat he kept by the door.  Regular.  No nails.  He got it ready and swung the door open, ready for --

Billy Hargrove.  Drunk as a fucking skunk.  Falling forward with the momentum of his fist, eyes wide.  Steve caught him and stumbled back, dropping the bat.

“What the fuck?” Steve said, his voice flat.  Billy gripped the front of Steve’s shirt and pulled himself up, eyes bloodshot.

“Steve,” Billy slurred.  “You’re awake.” His eyes were wide, like he was shocked, and he didn’t pull away, keeping his face close to Steve’s.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, wrinkling his nose because Billy’s breath reeked.  “Waited up for you.” Billy rested his forehead in the crook of Steve’s neck and brought his arms up, pulling Steve closer.  Steve couldn’t help himself, he was so fucking starved for attention, and he let Billy cling to him, wrapping his own arms around his waist.

“Thought you would,” he hiccuped, “Wouldn’t wanna see me.” Steve sighed.

“Can’t say I’m thrilled you showed up 3 hours late and drunk,” he said, because he shouldn’t be happy Billy came like this, but he is.  He’s happy he came at all.  And how fucking sad was that.

“I didn’t wan-wanna intrude on your time with the nerds.”

“Too busy with Casey?” Steve snapped.  He felt Billy stiffen against him.  Watched him pull back and level Steve with an annoyed look.

“Fuck does that mean?” He grumbled.  Steve rolled his eyes, suddenly so fucking angry because Billy didn’t even notice.  Didn’t even fucking care.

“It means,” Steve bit out, “That you can just tell me if you wanna fuck other people.” Billy looked at him like he was making no sense, which just irked Steve more.  “You don’t have to, to let me down gently, okay?  I can take it.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

“Oh my god!” Steve finally pulled all the way away from Billy, wrapping his arms around himself and hunching over, trying to make himself smaller.  “Just leave.” He didn’t look at Billy, scared that he might cry, over Billy fucking Hargrove.

“Is this,” Billy began, speaking slowly, sounding a bit more sober now, “About the flirting?”

“Is this about--” Steve scoffed and shook his head.

“Seriously?  You’re worked up over harmless flirting?” Billy sounded annoyed and Steve felt like fucking shit.  Felt tears welling up because he was an idiot.

“Fuck you,” he said, voice watery.  “I fucking--  I’m worked up,” he spit out, “Because you ignored me for 3 days.  Because when I wanted to talk to you, you fucking, fucking laughed in my face.” He scrubbed at his eyes, wishing he wasn’t crying over Billy goddamn Hargrove.  “Because you apparently can’t even bear to be my friend in public.” He laughed, the noise twisting into an aborted sob at the end.  “I’m worked up because I was actually convinced for like, a little while, that you cared about me.  That this wasn’t some fucking distraction from the bullshit.  That it maybe meant something.” Steve still hadn’t looked at Billy, who had been quiet the whole time.  “You know, sometimes, I fucking hate you.” Steve was surprised at the sharp inhale of breath and looked up, shocked to see Billy quickly rubbing at his eyes.  He glared at the floor and licked his lips.

“Please--” he stammered.  “Please don’t say that.” Steve was thrown for a loop.  Billy using please?  Billy looking upset?  Billy being anything other than his usual I’m too cool to care about anyone or anything self?

“What,” Steve said, monotone.

“I--” Billy swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, like he also couldn’t look at Steve while he was vulnerable.  Like he was vulnerable.  “I-- I got scared.” He swallowed, eyes still closed.  “When you-- You’re just so--”

“What,” Steve repeated.

“In the morning,” Billy said.  “When you smile at me, and it’s all soft and just for me, I just--” He licked his lips and wiped over his mouth harshly.  “I want that.  I got scared because I want it so much and you just…” He stopped, words trailing off like he’d already pried out what he could.  Steve couldn’t do anything more than stare, mouth open in a small ‘o.’

“So why--”

“I wanted you to hate me,” Billy said.  “I wanted you to hate me because then I wouldn’t ruin it.  I wouldn’t ruin you and you could go back to your life before I inevitably fucked this up.  But,” he let out a shuddery breath, “But hearing you say it… I don’t-- I don’t want you to--”

“I don’t,” Steve replied, probably too fast.  “I don’t hate you.”

“You should,” Billy whispered.  Steve didn’t know how to respond, so instead, he took Billy’s hand and pulled him into the kitchen.  Made him an instant coffee and got him a glass of water.  They sat in silence, neither looking at the other, until Steve cleared his throat.

“So, you really aren’t into Casey?” Billy let out a shocked laugh and shook his head.

“How is that what you’re focused on,” he muttered.  “No, I’m not.  My dad knows when I’m not, well, fucking around.  Knows that means I found someone.”

“What the fuck?” Billy shrugged.

“I’m good at pretending, Harrington, but I’m not like you.  I don’t like girls.  Sex is nice enough but they don’t really do it for me.  We left San Diego because my dad figured that out.  And he always asks who I’m meeting when I go on dates, always makes sure he knows where I am--”

“Seriously, what the fuck!” Billy shrugged again, staring into his mug.

“I don’t flirt because I want to,” he said, voice soft.  “I do it because I have to.  Because he doesn’t ask me where I go every Friday anymore.” Steve felt like shit again, but now for a whole new reason.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Billy said.  “I should have told you.  Don’t know that I ever would have if you didn’t push me.  If I wasn’t still fucking drunk right now.” He finally, finally looked at Steve, and Steve was surprised at just how tired he looked.  “You told me how it made you feel, and I couldn’t even--” He looked away again.

“It did kind of feel like shit,” Steve said.  He backtracked when Billy hunched in on himself.  “But it was also because I was a little jealous.  That like, you even could flirt.” Billy raised a brow, confused.  “It’s stupid,” Steve said, blushing, “But you’re like, like a fucking adonis?  Shut up,” he said when Billy snickered.  “And like, I know I’m not like, ugly or anything, but I’m not anything special, so I just--”

“Not anything special?” Billy asked, looking confused again.  “Are you kidding me?” Steve flushed and looked away, frowning.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Steve muttered.

“No, no,” Billy said, grabbing Steve’s hand.  “You--” Billy looked at a loss for words.  For once.  “The minute I saw you I couldn’t-- I couldn’t think about anything except the fact that I wanted to suck your dick.” Steve rolled his eyes but smiled a little.  “Seriously, Harrington.  The minute I finally saw that dick?” Billy shook his head.  “A goner.  Wanted to fucking choke on it.”

“Billy,” Steve sighed, smiling a little more.  “You don’t--”

“I’m not going to stop until you remember that you’re hot as fuck, okay?” Billy looked away, a blush creeping across his face and down his neck.  “I get lost in your eyes sometimes,” he mumbled.  “They’re so open and kind and deep.” He looked back at Steve and brought his hand up to Steve’s face.  “When you’re asleep I see how many moles I can count.” He cupped his jaw, thumb rubbing a gentle circle on Steve’s cheek.  “It hurts to look at you sometimes,” Billy whispered, eyes glazed over.  “Especially when you smile at me.  When you’re shining so bright and I just--” He leaned forward, pulling Steve into a gentle, but thorough, kiss.  Steve kissed back, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“Billy,” he choked out, lips still pressed against Billy’s.

“You’re so good, Steve,” Billy said in a rush.  “Please, please forgive me for making you feel like you weren’t-- You know that I--” Steve cut him off with a kiss, letting Billy’s tongue swirl around his before pulling back, breath short.

“We should maybe talk about things a little more,” he mumbled, smile wet from tears, but still light.  Billy smiled a little.

“Maybe.”

[kewltie]

Dragons were once thought as gods across the land. Legends spoke of how their footsteps would shake the ground wherever they'd tread, a beat of their wings was said to have cause windstorm to appear in the horizon, and their roars could call down lightning; they were indomitable beasts.

Katsuki’s people had dedicated more than a thousand year and generations of their blood, sweats, and tears to bring these great beasts to their heels. To be chosen by a dragon to be their soulkin is a special privilege reserve for the few—the strongest, smartest, and best people.

It's sacred. And not everyone can even touch a dragon, let alone—

“Who’s a good boy,” Izuku coos, rubbing his hands all over Kithura’s snout like he's an overly large and eager dog, and not at all like a holy beast of Katsuki's people. “The very best boy? You are, it’s you!”

Kithura lets out a pleased rumble, the end of his scaly tail swinging back and forth.

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose at the sight. This sickening, horrendous thing he's privy to. He should kill the both of them to save himself from this utterly embarrassing shitshow.

Laws and traditions are carved into the foundation of their society, but if Izuku not even going to bother respecting that shit how is Katsuki supposed to be rule over anything?! "Oi, get the fuck away from Deku, you stupid fat lizard," Katsuki snaps, temper fraying at the edge.

Izuku's hands startle to a stop and Kithura raises his overgrown head, snorting an offended fume out of his nose. Not fat, he grumbles, like that's more important than the stupid part. This is also somehow Izuku's fault too; his dragon didn't just turn into a lapdog overnight.

"Kacchan!" Izuku's face lights up at the sight of him angrily stomping his way toward them. "You're finish with the council meeting?"

Katsuki grunts in acknowledgement. "What the hell, Deku? He's not a damn pet." He gives Kithura a pointed look. Have some fucking dignity, he scolds.

Kithura just puffs out hot air and curls closer to Izuku in defiant of Katsuki's earlier rebuke.

"Oh, I know." Izuku smiles brightly. "Kit was just kindly keeping me company while I was waiting for you to be done." His smile widens even further. "I wanted to show Kit my appreciation."

Kithura grins down at him in the way that only a dragon can. Full of menacing teeth and bite, his jaw bigger than the size of Izuku's head but that doesn't stop Izuku from going soft and heart eyes at Katsuki's murderous fire breathing dragon who had crushed hundreds of his enemies’ skull under his foot.

"What," he says flatly with a twitch of his eye. "What the fuck you say?"

"I wanted to show Kit my appreciation?" Izuku repeats with a curious tilt to his voice. He bites down on lower lip unsurely. “Should I have not done that?”

"No," Katsuki snaps, right hand itching to reach for the sword his side so he can ram a hole into his own head, because seriously, the hell? "I meant, what the fuck did you just called my dragon?"

"Kit?" Izuku blinks. "Sorry, I just didn't want to accidentally butcher your partner's full name. It sounds beautiful when you say it, but I—I don’t think my tongue can bend that way." He scrunches up his face and then tilts his head up toward Kithura with woeful eyes. "But you don't mind being called Kit, do you?"

Kithura, that traitorous overgrown lizard, lowers his head and nuzzles Izuku's cheek appreciatively as Izuku once again idiotically coos at him like he's a demented puppy that Izuku had picked up from the road and not the horrorterror of the sky that everyone knows Kithura as.

Katsuki had spent his twelve summer out in the red desert battling for his very life against the searing heat, carnivorous cactus, and even the fucking sand was out to kill him. All of it so he could find a damn dragon that would speak to his soul and hear its cry; his soulkin.

He had fucking bled and fought his way to a giant slab of sandstone hilltop where he'd met him, napping leisurely under the glaring sun. With scales the color of a sunset, a mulish blend of red and orange, he was breathtaking and Katsuki had wanted him. His soul called out to the winged beast on top of the butte.

It took Katsuki nine days. Nine fucking awful days of fighting for his life and future to claim this wondrous beast as his own and have the honor name him. Once the beast had fallen and lowered his head before Katsuki in submission, he’d bestowed his title to him; Aku'kithuramulea.

In ancient Selvine, a tongue that had long lost its meaning to the outside world except here in brutal the brutal landscape, it translate to: the Unconquerable King of the Red Dunes. A fearsome and grand name to go along with a fearsome beast. A name that no one else but Katsuki had rightfully earned the privilege to give.

Names are power. It's ownership and subjugation.

Early on, Katsuki had shortened it to Kithura because even he's not an idiot to try to shove that mouthful pass his lips daily. Kithura is at least more dignified than some childish pet name Kit. But now his own fucking dragon had let someone else renamed him.

Katsuki glares at Izuku. "You can't go around giving nickname to people's dragon! That's disrespectful to the warriors who had bled for that honor," he bites out viciously. He turns toward Kithura meaningfully and glares. "And you! Don't let others renamed you just for shit and giggles. Where’s your goddamn pride as a holy beast?”

Izuku's face falls. "Oh," he says, voice small and crushing. His eyes drop down to his lap, hands anxiously clench and unclench in front of him. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know."

For a sharp, brief second Katsuki feels a stab of guilt hitting his conscience. And it hurts.

He doesn't have time to dwell on that thought for long because Kithura quickly removes himself from Izuku's person to shove his scaly head up at Katsku's face. Kithura's gold eyes narrows in reproach as his wings flares out and the air around them is charged with danger and a steady building anger.

No, no, he insists loudly in Katsuki's head. Be nice. Stupid little king. Deku is future hatchmother of little king's younglings, he huffs in annoyance like Katsuki is somehow in the wrong here. Now, he won't hatch eggs for little king anymore. Because little king is mean.

Katsuki nearly snap his neck looking at Izuku's puzzled but curious expression as he watches their one sided exchange before he turns toward Kithura in horror. "That's not how the human's body works! Does that large skull of yours only contain air or fucking what?!" he says, outrage thick deep in his voice.

Kithura sulks. Big brain, Kit has.

"Not your name," Katsuki snaps reflexively, but Kithura is already plowing on ahead anyway, won't be stop by anything once he got some ridiculous idea in his head.

I know. I am your soul, little king, Kithura tells him. But Deku is your heartsong. You want to mount him. To put your seeds in him.

Katsuki's face flames up as murderous rage sets in. This fucking dragon is going to be the death of him. He swears. “I-“ He resists flailing his arms around to deny it, because he’s not stooping to childish level. “I do not want,” he lowers his voice to an almost embarrassed mumble as he flickers his eyes toward Izuku’s expectance but puzzled face, “want to put my seeds in him.”

Why not? Little king needs a queen, Kithura insists sternly. Deku is great mate. He's kind. Clever. Loyal. Heartstrong. And more importantly, got that youngbearing hips. Will bear you many young ones. A full nest of them for Kit to play with. He looks on proudly down at Izuku as Izuku smiles ignorantly in respond. That fool.

Katsuki drops his face into his hands and groans.  

You'd chosen good, little king, Kit continues to prattle on proudly. There will many young broods in your future. Deku will breed well for your kingdom.

“Kacchan?" Izuku asks amidst the terse exchange between him and his dragon that he wasn’t mostly privy to. "Are you okay?"

Thank fucking stars for that because then he has to kill Izuku and then himself to save them all from the utter humiliation of having to explain the fucking garbage that came out of Kithura's brainless head. But apparently he's not done, because Katsuki hears Kithura rumble and moving his hulking body around.

He removes his hand from his face just in time to see Kithura snuggles up to Izuku again as Izuku looks upon him dotingly. “Would you like some snacks?” he asks like a total dumbass. Ugh. “I think I may have something for you.”

Little queen, hatch many eggs, ok, Kithura implores to him as Izuku turns around and rumbles through his leather satchel.

That’s it. Katsuki has enough.

"I'm going to kill you, you fucking dumb lizard," Katsuki declares, reaching for his sword. Soulbond be damned.

[anasticklefics]

Tickle Cheating

Fandom: Star Trek

Characters: Jim Kirk, Leonard McCoy

Summary: Jim tickles Bones. It’s what he DOES. So how does one react when you see someone else tickle your usual victim? Like a mess if you’re Jim Kirk apparently!

A/N: I blame @fickle-tiction (are you HAPPY?). Also I don’t know how hospitals work don’t yell at me. Might rewrite this idea with lee!Jim because he has my heart.

Also does this whole fic and my author’s note have a general chaotic air about it or am I going crazy haha?

Words: 3 124

The first time Jim noticed it was when he dropped by the hospital to deliver Bones’ lunch that he’d left at the kitchen counter of their shared dorm room. Entering a space that was oddly both chaotic and completely still at the same time, the general air so suffocating that it was no wonder Bones was exhausted each time he returned from a shift. Jim grinned at the receptionist, unsure of where the med students where and if he was even allowed past a certain point and if so, “would you or someone give this to Leonard McCoy?”

But the woman, hair framing her heart shaped, incredibly kind face, met his grin with a smile and told him he could go right in.

“If someone stops you or you can’t find him, simply ask if someone can leave the box in the kitchen.”

Her words sounded scripted in a way that told him this probably happened more often than not, and he thanked her and left. Up three stories with the elevator to the floor she’d directed him toward, footsteps echoing around the empty corridors, until he eventually found a more chaotic environment in the form of the emergency room.

How many times had he been here just that semester?

“Kirk!” someone Jim recognized from the Academy called out, glancing up from a clipboard. “What have you done now?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “It’s been months since… whatever. Do you know where Bones is? McCoy. Whatever you call him.”

“I tend to call him Leo.”

“That’s weird. Do you know where he is? He left his lunch.”

The guy, unnamed for now and the rest of eternity, pointed his thumb in the direction of yet another corridor. “Third door to the right.”

“Should I just go in?”

“They don’t have any patients in there right now.”

So Jim went, wondering if he was breaking any rules but feeling extremely ready to get out of there.

He saw it then. The small room - do they perform surgeries in there? - with a bed and a table and four windows and five people, all on top of each other with Bones in the middle. All talking, simultaneously grave and cracking jokes. Familiar, whether they wanted to or not. A job where you couldn’t be timid of bodily contact; eating and sleeping almost in each other’s laps. Jim looked at Bones, saw how easily he moved with elbows in his guts and people breathing down his neck.

He also saw his face light up when he caught sight of Jim.

“I brought your lunch,” he said meekly, holding it up, and if Bones was the type to profess his undying love for his friends, Jim was sure he would be going down on one knee right now.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” he said later, having entered their dorm as Jim had been nearly falling asleep over his homework. “You bringing me food literally saved my day and I will grant you one wish as a reward.”

And Jim, exhausted, lonely and closer to the verge of tears than he would’ve liked, demanded cuddles.

In their years of living together Jim had never asked for cuddles. He always wanted to, but whatever physical affection he had a tendency to hand out to his friends like a way too common gift, he always stopped before they could get mad, and therefore always stopped before he felt satisfied.

“I just want a good fucking cuddle,” he was saying now, his tone too desperate for it to sound like a joke. Bones, bless him, didn’t comment on it.

“Let me take a shower and change,” he only said. “Trust me, you don’t want whatever my clothes have.”

Jim nodded, suddenly feeling too vulnerable, too exposed, so he ducked his head back down, eyes on his books. Listening to every sound Bones was making, thinking he was being both too quick and too slow, and when he finally returned Jim was fully aware of it, but pretending to be too engrossed in his work to notice.

“You wanna cuddle now or later?” Bones asked, so casual about it that Jim knew he’d never manage to get a single thing done for the rest of the night.

“Now,” he said, standing abruptly enough to nearly knock his chair down.

Bones grabbed it, his face a mix of amusement and concern. “Right then. The couch? Movie night?”

“Sure.”

“Want to pick the movie?”

“You go ahead.”

“Okay.”

Jim tried to shake the sudden awkwardness out of his limbs as he followed his friend into the living room area of their tiny dorm, realizing this was probably a bad idea. They hadn’t even touched yet and he was acting like a total fool.

“We don’t have to do this,” he blurted out, causing Bones to stop in his tracks. “I don’t know why I asked for it. I’m over it. I was just tired. We really don’t have to.”

“Jim.” Reaching out to grab Jim’s arms, Bones gave his flesh a squeeze. “Breathe. It’s fine that you asked for it and we don’t have to do it if you’ve changed your mind, but if I really didn’t want to myself I would’ve said so.”

Jim deflated. “Promise?”

“Jesus, you must be exhausted. Yes, promise.”

“It’s just that-” Jim wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain when Bones hadn’t asked for an explanation in the first place. “-I saw you at the hospital and you seemed so okay with being physically close to people and I feel like I might die if nobody holds me for, like, half an hour-”

“Jim.”

“-and I know it’s part of your job so I don’t want to overstep-”

“Please shut up for a sec.”

Jim did, but only because Bones had said please.

“I don’t necessarily enjoy having my personal space so violated,” he continued. “But of course I don’t mind you doing it. You’re my-”

“I know,” Jim said when Bones trailed off. They had no words to describe what they were. “So I shouldn’t be jealous?”

“Absolutely not, but mostly because you act like an idiot when you want something you think you can’t have.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act like a petulant child.”

“Oho, is that so?”

Bones ruffled his hair. “Go back to being timid. It was cuter.”

So maybe Jim didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in the movie and fell asleep in Bones’ arms ten minutes later, Bones’ fingers squeezing at various places on his body to get him to “relax for fuck’s sake”. Maybe he couldn’t picture himself falling asleep in an empty bed again for weeks. Maybe Bones was really fucking good at cuddling.

Waking up sweaty with Bones’ knee pressed to the small of his back later was a whole other thing. “Hhng. Get off.”

“You’re nearly on top of me.”

“Feels like I was hit by a truck.”

“You snore like a goddamn-”

Jim somehow managed to roll over and press his face into Bones’ neck. “Shh. Too loud.”

A spasm went through Bones’ body, convincing Jim he was trying to throw him off the couch and making him resort to clinging onto his torso for dear life. “N-no.”

“What was that?”

Bones was, miraculously, laughing.

Jim tried to crane his neck to get a glimpse of his face, but he only succeeded in pressing the top of his head beneath Bones’ chin. “Okay, what is happening right now?”

Bones said something incoherent, his words slurred with sleep and higher in pitch with laughter. His hands were clawing at Jim’s back, unable to get a good grip of his shirt and therefore only managing to lightly tickle him, which was kinda nice actually.

Wait.

“Oh, this is tickling you,” Jim said, laughing into Bones’ skin as if this was a group activity. “Hey, I didn’t even know you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” came the strangled denial.

“Hmm, I think you are. Otherwise this wouldn’t bother you.” He spidered his fingers up Bones’ side, noticing the squirming getting a notch more desperate the closer he came to his friend’s ribs. He paused just beneath them. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t react to this I’ll believe you’re not ticklish. Okay?”

“Jim, you fucking-”

Jim jabbed him in the ribs and nearly lost his hearing from the shriek that left Bones’ mouth.

“Ah, so you’re ridiculously ticklish, then?”

Bones cursed and managed to slip his arm out from beneath him, placing it against Jim’s chest, but not pushing him off.

“And you don’t mind this? I see.”

“I’m gonna kill you, James Tiberius-”

“Don’t you middle name me, Leo.”

Years passed. They graduated. Jim somehow became a captain and got a ship. Bones for some reason decided to work on said ship, bestowing Jim with his constantly shifting moods for the next five years. Not that he complained. Was literally doing the exact opposite. And, all the while their lives changed and kept changing, Jim kept tickling him nearly daily.

“Don’t fucking tickle me in front of others,” had been Bones’ one demand disguised as a request.

So Jim didn’t, but kept it behind closed doors as they always had. The image of Bones being physically close to others always prompting him to demand cuddles, now that he wasn’t ashamed of this dire need anymore. And, more often than not, he would slip his hands beneath Bones’ shirt and make him laugh uncontrollably for a few minutes. He wasn’t sure how it had become a part of their routine, but he felt that if he didn’t get these intimate yet playful moments as often as he could he would shrivel up and die.

“You’re a drama queen,” Bones had said more than once when Jim had complained about them not having gotten any alone time.

“You literally beg me to stop when I’m barely even touching you,” Jim countered each time. “Don’t call me a drama queen when you’re just as bad.”

Bones would only wave a hand at him, having gotten out of the habit of blushing over his sensitivity years ago.

Something else that had become more common than they probably realized was how often Jim brought him food into medbay. Sometimes it was breakfast, snacks, his forgotten lunch or dinner. Other times it was just a drink, just as an excuse to stop by. Sometimes he came empty handed.

That day Bones truly had forgotten to eat, his empty seat painfully loud in the cafeteria. Jim knew his habits more than anyone and knew he wouldn’t eat unless food was visibly presented before him, and so he filled a tupperware with everything he knew Bones liked and skipped through the corridors, suddenly feeling like he was back at the Academy again.

Bones wasn’t alone, but he rarely was. The crowded hospital rooms had been replaced with him and Chapel dancing around each other, sometimes with more than one crew member present; arms and legs and chests and heads laid out for Bones’ magical fingers to heal, or so they hoped. Jim had lied there more times than he could count, so he was highly familiar with the nooks of this part of the ship.

Bones was standing on a stool, which made Jim stop in his tracks before he announced his presence, greeting dying on his lips and being replaced with a grin. Whatever Bones was trying to reach, it seemed to be just out of reach and he was grumbling as he kept stretching.

“Do you need a hand there?” Chapel asked, her tone playful while Bones let out an unprofessional curse.

“Can I borrow some heels?” he muttered, and she laughed, all familiarity due to working together in such close proximity for years. It wasn’t elbows in guts or naps in laps, but Jim recognized it from his crew on the Bridge. It was impossible to not grow close.

“It might help if I make you jump,” she continued.

“How the hell will you do that?”

Jim was almost proud of the fact that he didn’t let out any sound as he watched her reach out and poke at Bones’ ribs, just at the spot that could make him scream with laughter. It was a coincidence, it had to be a coincidence, how the hell could she know.

Bones didn’t squeal, but he didn’t pretend as if nothing was happening as he had learnt to do back in school, partly because back then people never meant to tickle you if they tried to get past you quickly and had to grab your waist. Chapel did indeed mean to make him squirm.

Jim watched his arms shoot down, swatting at her with a laugh so relaxed this really truly couldn’t have been the first time she tickled him. It really truly couldn’t.

Other people tickled Bones. Bones let other people tickle him.

He started backing away, lunch box forgotten when he literally bumped into Uhura who was coming from the opposite direction. The tupperware flew out of his hands as he let out a gasp in surprise, the food littering the floor only a second later. Things were a bit chaotic after that, but maybe because everything was overpowered by his frantically beating heart, that really had no business freaking out but there they were.

“I’m so sorry!” he heard Uhura say over his own incoherent babbling, the two of them crouching down to clean up the mess while Chapel and Bones kept repeating that “it’s fine, we have a broom, please get off the floor” that Uhura eventually listened to while Jim had to be pulled upright by Bones who was laughing, only to start frowning when he realized just how truly stressed out Jim was by the whole situation.

It wasn’t even about the food, but.

“I’ll go get you some more before they close the cafeteria,” he said, heart in his throat, threatening to spill out among the food on the ground, and who knew what that treacherous heart would reveal. “Really, it’s fine,” he said, leaving them be and rushing to the first restroom he could find, finally allowing himself to calm the fuck down and breathe.

What a stupid thing to get upset by, but.

He heard someone enter the room, causing him to press his body against the stall like a coward, but Bones’ voice rang clear anyway. “Jim?”

He didn’t reply.

“Come on, I know you’re in here.”

“I’m peeing.”

“Right, well, I’ll wait until you’ve finished.”

“Okay, I’m not peeing.”

“I know.” A beat, and, “Come out. Please.”

It was always the please that got him.

“Before you ask,” Jim said, exiting the stall. “I was gonna go get your food just after this stop.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about the food. I mean I do, and it was really nice that you brought me some, but it’s a slow day and I’ll be fine.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted to see what was up with you.”

“With me?”

“You seem… I don’t know. Freaked out? Like something is wrong?”

“I see.”

“Jim.”

He shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, looked anywhere but on Bones. “I don’t know. The whole situation sort of shook me and now I feel weird.”

“You spilling the food?”

“No. Jesus, no. Just-” He waved his hand in Bones’ general direction. “You being tickled by someone else. It was weird being an onlooker.”

“You’re acting like a disaster because of that?”

“Look, you know I’ve acted worse about tamer things.”

“You’re so stupid.”

Jim snorted, finally meeting his friend’s eye. “I’d love to have this conversation-”

“Stop lying.”

“-but I have to head back. Got a ship to run and all.”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m bringing this up tonight.”

Jim patted his shoulder as he passed. “I’m counting on it.”

It didn’t mean that he was looking forward to it, however.

“Ugh, just get it over with,” he groaned when Bones entered his quarters, looking rather alert, pointing to a calm rest of the day.

“Don’t sound so excited about it,” Bones deadpanned. “We’re gonna talk about my sensitive spots, after all.”

“I love your sensitive spots.”

“Focus.”

“I just thought it was something only I did to you, that’s all.”

“You got jealous?”

“Maybe a little?”

Bones relented. “You’re being-”

“Ridiculous, I know.”

“And kind of endearing, but I’ll only say that once.”

“You say many things once. Doesn’t mean I’ll forget them.”

“Oho, you’re kind of asking for it yourself, you know.”

Jim threw up his hands. “Tickle me, then. This whole day’s weird and backwards anyway.”

“You know I would never take your job.”

“Chapel did.”

“Oh, come on. As if you’ve never tickled anyone else before.”

Jim huffed, crossing his arms. “I never said my reaction was logical.”

“You gonna tickle me or not?”

“Are you asking me to?”

Bones did flush then, so rare nowadays. So wonderful. “Shut up. Just shut up.”

Jim barked out a laugh, already approaching him. “Stay still.”

“You know damn well I won’t.”

“I do, but it’s fun watching you struggle.”

“You sadist- wahait!”

Jim cornered him and pushed him down onto the couch, fingers already working over his hips, a spot he was certain no one else knew of. A spot that could make Bones scream so loud Jim had to stop out of fear of accidentally killing him.

Usually he was gentle, starting slow to make him giggle, but Bones had technically tickle cheated on him and that just wouldn’t do. Pinning him beneath his thighs, Jim dug into the sensitive spots, Bones’ clothes doing nothing to help him whatsoever.

Oh, how he laughed. Not a quick little inconvenienced laugh as he squirmed away, but a proper, desperate belly laugh. This was theirs and only theirs. Jim the only one Bones trusted to know this intimately. He was grabbing at Jim’s wrists now, but despite his strength he wasn’t pushing Jim away. Merely steadying himself.

Whatever they were and whatever they had, it always had and always would include this.

“I should tie you up and torture you,” Jim teased, even though he’d never immobilized him during this and only tickled him for a couple of minutes at a time, but Bones had once become a stuttering mess when Jim had threatened this and he did love a flustered Bones, after all.

He was laughing too hard to stutter, but the way he was shaking his head told Jim all he needed to know. His words had left a mark and whatever he did now, wherever he touched, would be more ticklish than usual.

He got to work.

[glorifiedpigeon]

Fluffuary - My Muse and Inspiration

A Loceitmus oneshot for Choice OT3 day! Darren has to clean up yet another one of his best friend's messes. Unfortunately his kinda sorta maybe crush is Remus' brand new mess. Way to go, buddy.

AO3

"Dee, you've gotta help me!" Remus shouted, bursting into the room with a wild expression, the dramatic cape hanging off the shoulders of his frilly waistcoat fluttering with the movement.

"What is it now?" Darren asked with a heavy sigh. He glanced up to see Remus now engaged in a very odd tug of war over his cape with- "Logan Croft?"

"Oh good, you know him!" Remus exclaimed, sounding relieved.

"Ah, Mr. Salazar! I see you're familiar with my muse," Logan announced, and he straightened, fixing the glasses on his face.

"Your muse?" Darren asked, glaring at Remus.

"Loogie, why don't you go draw my face in the other room? I'm sure it's burned into your cranium, yeah?" Remus suggested.

"But the light was hitting you just perfectly ten paces over there, I was hoping-"

"Go draw me as a fish, that sounds fun, huh?" Remus suggested. Logan gasped, and he scrambled for the bag at his hip. Remus shoved him out of the room and slammed the door, quickly locking it.

Darren blinked. "Remus, what did you do?"

"I just wanted him to pay attention to me," Remus exclaimed.

"You charmed him to get his attention!? What spell did you use, because a simple glamour would not have him acting like he needs you to survive!" Darren snapped, gesturing angrily towards the door.

"He's an artist! His pictures are so pretty, I just… inspired him a little?" Remus said nervously. Darren gaped.

"Of course you used a muse spell, you goddamn romantics don't think about the consequences of anything!" Darren snapped, shoving Remus. "He's just a sketch artist, right? He won't be singing ballads to you in the dark of the night, or chiseling your face out of stone?"

Remus coughed and rocked on his heels. "Ah. He might be an everyman? Jack of all trades?"

Darren could've strangled Remus in that moment. "Remus. Fix it."

"I don't know how! How did you fix it when you accidentally spelled that theatre kid in seventh grade?" Remus demanded, flicking his cape aside and getting down on his knees. "Please, Dee, I need you to help me out!"

"My parents handled that for me, and I haven't studied a single charm spell since- I don't know how to fix this!" Darren protested. Remus whined.

"He hasn't let me eat my lunch, or bother my brother! He's just been making me pose for him!" Remus complained.

"That's your own fault!" Darren snapped, but he made his way over to the spellbooks on his shelf, disguised as law books.

"I wouldn't mind so much if he took a break. I'm pretty sure he sprained his wrist trying to paint me on a wall last night, but he won't stop- it's even freaking me out," Remus said, glancing at the door. Darren scowled.

"He's going to keep drawing, and painting and whatever else until he wastes away, Remus. That's the nature of the spell, he can't think of anything but you now," Darren explained, as he began paging through his barely touched book on charms. Remus frowned.

"I just wanted him to notice me. You talk about him all the time, and I just wanted to get his attention," Remus moaned.

"I talk about him because there's no way in hell that he'd be interested in me or in you. Logan Croft is a man of high standards," Darren scowled. Remus whined wordlessly in complaint. There was a knock at the door. Darren sighed heavily. "At least try to feed the poor man something while I work on reversing your stupid mistake."

Remus grumbled, but he opened the door anyway. Logan stood behind it with a big smile.

"I came up with a poem about your smile," Logan announced, looking more than proud of himself.

"What, you didn't set it to music and make a song?" Darren snorted to himself. He immediately regretted it as the man nearly dropped his sketchbook.

"Brilliant idea. I have to go home and get started right away-"

"Hey, Loogie, wait!" Remus exclaimed, but Logan was darting down the hallway too fast for Remus to stop him. He turned to Darren with an icy cold glare.

"Sorry, I didn't realize he could hear me," Darren said, feeling more than a little chagrined.

"I'm going to go catch up to him and try to bring him back," Remus sighed. "You worry about the reversal spell."

Darren began flipping through the book. Of all the goddamn spells, Remus had to choose the muse spell. It was a terrifying charm, a spell that twisted the mind of the affected party, causing them to lose sight of anything that didn't have to do with the caster. They would simply create tributes and fawn over the caster. Eventually, like poor damned Ameinias, their "love" would drive them to their deaths.

Or, at least, landed them in the hospitals and kept under watch so they didn't hurt themselves to try and use that… "inspiration" their muses gave them. Darren remembered being thirteen and terrified, finally begging his parents for help and confessing that he'd gotten Jeremy Olsen hospitalized. It was horrid, an absolute nightmare. Afterwards, his parents had sent him away to a boarding school, where he was not allowed to practice magic at all.

Darren never relied on magic to charm people again, especially not people he was fond of, like Logan Croft or Remus. And now his idiotic friend had gone and made the same terrible mistake. Well, he was determined to help him solve it.

Muse spell, muse spell, muse spell. Darren sighed as he scanned the page the spell was located on. Oh thank god, the reversal looked simple enough.

Suddenly, Remus kicked open the door, Logan Croft slung over his shoulder like a child throwing a tantrum.

"I wasn't finished! That child was about to lend me her chalk!" Logan cried out.

"Nope! You're gonna sit your pretty little ass down and let Darren here fix you up all nice and normal, yeah?" Remus interrupted. He shoved the door shut with a foot, and dropped Logan into a soft armchair.

"At least give me a pen and paper-"

"Nope!" Remus said, and he kicked the notepads Darren had been doing homework on off the coffee table so Logan couldn't reach them. Darren sighed heavily.

"I have the reverse incantation, Remus. Go stand in the corner and think about why a muse spell is more than a bad idea, okay?" Darren suggested. Remus pouted, but he still moved away to give Darren his space. "Hello, Croft."

"Salazar. Are you and Remus friends? You know, the light catches on him just splendidly, I'm almost jealous of what a pretty picture the two of you mak-"

"Yes, yes, he's utterly fascinating- do you have a middle name at all?" Darren asked.

Remus piped up, "It's-"

"I've heard just about enough out of you, Remus!" Darren snapped.

"My middle name is Berry," Logan informed.

"Wait, seriously?" Darren asked. He shook his head and looked back down at the tome in his arms. "Nevermind. Okay, well Logan Berry Croft… Notsgnik sumer esum wen eniht morf noitaripsni ekat dna eeht erofeb ytuaeb eht ezingocer."

In a sudden flash, Logan was blinking up at Darren in confusion. He looked around the room. "I- I feel as though I've made an awfully big fool of myself."

"No bigger a fool than Remus is every day," Darren assured. "Are you alright?"

"Ah… no? I mean- magic is real, I was charmed by a classmate, and I am currently in the apartment of another classmate, both of whom are technically strangers to me," Logan summarized rather succinctly. He glanced at the pile of notebooks on the floor, then at his left hand. "I didn't think there was anything other than drugs that could take away one's self preservation."

"Oh, are you in pain? Remus said he thought you hurt yourself earlier," Darren asked. He hovered over Logan, worried about his wrist. "He said he thought it might be sprained."

"I don't think so, but it certainly smarts. I won't be writing for a day at least," Logan said with a disapproving frown.

"I'll take notes for you in class," Darren offered. Logan managed a smile.

"That would be rather kind, thank you, Mr. Salazar," Logan stated.

"Just call me Darren." He probably sounded desperate, but Darren had never had this long a conversation with his classmate. He was relishing it.

"Wait, hang on, that reversal incantation was just the actual spell backwards! I could've done that easily!" Remus protested suddenly, and Darren rolled his eyes.

"The spellbook said it was a literal reverse incantation. Of course it was the spell backwards," Darren said drily. Logan snorted out a laugh.

"Is magic particular about language then?" Logan asked.

"Well, translations always have to be done carefully for a reason, you know," Darren pointed out.

"Or else someone could lose their head trying to cast a dancing spell!" Remus piped up, grinning wide. Logan actually burst out with a warm laugh. Darren stared at him, mystified.

"Well, I'd love to learn more about magic, then. If you're both available on Saturday, we could discuss it over dinner?" Logan suggested. Darren's heart skipped a beat.

"Sure! We'll see you at six?" Remus suggested.

"Six," Logan confirmed with a nod.

Darren squeaked, in a horribly undignified way. "Six."

@tsshipmonth2020

[stormtrprinstilettos]

Forget Your Troubles - (omg it’s a) John x Reader (with smut)

Here you go. Your Dirty Deaky story. 18+ only and if I find out you’re under 18 and read my smut stuff I am blocking you. ♥️ Took some anon requested stuff and twisted it in here, so if you’re the anon? Hope you’re reading this. Huge thanks to @anotheronebitesthedeaks for making sure this doesn’t suck 💜

Choose your own Deaky decade for this one. (Also, we’re implying an age gap, but nothing is specified. Use your imagination as you should be doing with everything I write.)

You never drink alone. You always found it pathetic when people do it. One of your favorite things to do at the pub with your friends was mock the ones who were there alone – not to their faces, of course, but it was always humorous to make up your own stories about why they were there by themselves. But tonight you realize why they do it as you sit at the bar, all alone, nursing your third gin and tonic of the night. It was easier to drink than to sit alone in your living room, consuming yourself with your thoughts and drinking alone there. At least this way you weren’t technically drinking alone. You brushed off three people so far, all overly eager guys who were clearly only trying to talk to you to get you back at their place for a one night stand. Not that you were completely opposed to one night stands, but you’re trying to get your last one night stand out of your head. That one ended up becoming a two-year-long relationship that ended a week ago. It wasn’t so much the end of it that bothered you. It was the fact that it ended because he was fucking around on you with your best friend that was eating you alive.

“You’ve been sitting here for an hour and you’re only on your third drink,” you hear a voice tell you. “Either you really don’t like them or you’re trying to prolong your time here.”

Great, you think to yourself. Another creep. You don’t want to look up, but you can’t help yourself. “Are you enjoying watching me?” you ask with annoyed sarcasm as you turn your head to see who it is this time, immediately regretting being a bitch.

“It was hard for me not to notice you,” he says with a warm smile as he points to the other end of the bar. “I’ve been sitting over there trying to guess why you’re all alone.” You chuff and look back down at your drink. “If I guess correctly, you have to let me buy your next one.”

You look back to him and smirk. “And what happens if you don’t?”

“I guess I’ll still buy you your next drink,” he smiles. “I see it as a win-win situation for you.” Normally this is the point where you’d send him on his way, but there’s something about him that doesn’t feel so creepy. Besides, he’s a goddamn rock star. You’d feel like a complete fool sending John Deacon away.

“Well? Go on. Let’s see if you can do it,” you giggle.

He puts his hand to his chin like he’s deep in thought, the smile never leaving his face. “Ok. Pretty girl who clearly has no problem finding company, judging by the fact that three blokes have already attempted to talk to her, sitting here alone.” He laughs. “Someone broke her heart and she thinks these gin and tonics are going to make her feel better.”

You start to laugh. “Am I that obvious?”

“Well there’s no other possibility,” he says. “The only reason people drink alone is because of heartbreak or because they don’t want to pay for rounds.”

“Or maybe they just really want to enjoy their drink without having to entertain other people with conversation,” you smirk.

Now he’s laughing. “Ouch,” he says as he dramatically holds his hand to his chest before resting it back on the bar. “Well I know for a fact that’s not why you’re drinking alone.”

“And how do you know?” you chuckle with a raised brow.

He smirks. “Because you just told me someone broke your heart.” He takes the last sip of his drink and waves the bartender over. “He isn’t worth it. He’s clearly not a smart person,” he winks. When the bartender walks over, he orders himself another drink. “And bring the lady here something fancy,” he says. “She deserves a fancy drink.”

He’s charming. Very charming. And suddenly you find yourself thankful for the company. “Now it’s only fair you tell me why you’re here alone,” you tell him. “I mean, you know my secret.”

“Something tells me you have many more secrets,” he smirks. “And I intend to find out at least one more before the night is over.”

“Quid pro quo, sir,” you chuckle. “I don’t give away secrets without getting one in return.”

He’s so easy to talk to, and he’s quite chipper, making it impossible for you to continue to wallow in your misery. It only took 10 minutes for you to completely forget why you’re here. Instead, you were 100% focused on your new friend, and before you knew it an entire hour had passed.

“Did you enjoy that one?” he asks, pointing to your empty glass. “Want another?” He starts to wave the bartender back over but you grab his arm and pull it down.

“No, I’m alright,” you tell him. “I really should get going. Some of us have day jobs,” you smirk and stand up from the barstool. “Thank you for the drinks and the company.” You grab your purse and put it over your shoulder and start to leave.

“Wait!” He grabs your arm and jumps down from his stool. “Can I walk you home?”

“You don’t even know my name, Mr. Deacon,” you smile.

He starts to chuckle. “Well that’s not fair, is it? You know my name.”

“Maybe you should have asked me for mine,” you smirk and walk away. He’s not letting you get away that easy. As soon as you make it out to the sidewalk, he runs and stands in front of you. “You’re quite persistent, aren’t you?” you giggle.

“If I guess your name, can I walk you home?” He’s got that cheeky grin on his face again and you realize at this very moment that it makes it impossible to tell him no.

“Go on then,” you grin.

He closes his eyes and puts his fingers to his head as if he’s having some psychic vision. “Ah. Yes. Your name is Y/N.” That cheeky smirk draws back on his face and he hooks his arm, beckoning you to latch yours into it.

You shake your head and chuckle, latching your arm to his and start walking. “All you had to do was ask me instead of the bartender. I would have told you.”

“Ah, but it was more fun this way,” he giggles. You don’t walk far. Your place is right next door to the pub and he’s confused. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because this is my place,” you chuckle and point. “Thanks for making sure I got home safely.”

He gives you a side-eyed grin, wondering how you managed to get one over on him. He was doing his best to be the cheeky one here, but it looks like you’re just as good at dishing it out as he is. “Can we at least walk the block? So I don’t feel like a complete idiot?” he laughs.

“I’ll give you one block,” you smile. “That’s it.”

One block turned into two, then three, and by the time the two of you stop walking you realize that it’s been five or six, maybe even more, and your face was starting to get literally sore from all the smiling you were doing. Neither one of you was paying attention to your surroundings anymore. The conversation was flowing, and the company was nice too. It wasn’t until you reached the park that you snapped out of the minor daze and realized where you were. “Looks like we went a bit further than a block,” he chuckles. “Guess we should turn back.”

You take your arm from his and go sit on a nearby bench. “I don’t want to,” you say, quite flatly, and sigh as you plop yourself down. You weren’t feeling anything but normal while you were in the pub, but the longer you were in the night air, the more immense your buzz became. And the stronger your buzz became, the less restrictive your thoughts and words were. You weren’t completely without your wits. You just weren’t exactly making sure you held anything back anymore, which is why he heard all about your ex and your best friend. How you caught them in your bed and how you can’t even sleep in it anymore. And when you sat down, your emotions were starting to build up again.

He noticed, and he wanted to do everything he could to stop them again. “You’re much prettier when you smile,” he says as he sits next to you and rests his arm on the bench behind you and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. “I worked hard to get you to smile and I’m not going to allow all of my hard work to go to waste.” He lights the cigarette and takes a drag before handing it to you. “So we’re going to sit here until you start smiling again.”

“You’re a nice guy, John,” you smile. “Shame I’m not a bit older. I could have snagged you for myself.” You have no idea why you said it, but you did, and you can’t take it back now. Of course, your buzz doesn’t stop you from saying things you’ll probably regret tomorrow when you’re sober. “I am trying to figure out why you’re not trying to make a move on me though.”

“I’m sitting here on a park bench at 9:00 at night with a pretty girl that I was buying drinks for at a pub,” he laughs. “This is my move.”

You pretend to be shocked. “You mean to tell me this whole time you were trying to fool me into thinking you actually find me interesting?”

“I wouldn’t have put in almost two hours of effort if I didn’t find you interesting,” he grins. “I was actually going to bring you home and ask if I could see you again. Without alcohol being involved next time, of course.”

You turn your body so you're facing him now and smile. It’s not the buzz that’s drawn you to him. You weren’t even feeling any of the effects when you started talking to him at the pub. He’s nice. And funny. And freaking adorable with his hair that you’re struggling to refrain from playing with. And when he smiles at you? It just makes him even more appealing. You’ve never been drawn to older men before, but this one? Well, he’s making it really hard not to be drawn to him. “Bring me home,” you blurt out without even thinking of how your bluntness could be construed.

“Mine or yours?” he smirks. “Because mine?” he points. “Right across the street.” This isn’t what your intent was at all. Your plan was to walk back to yours, ask him when you were going to see him again, and go inside and pass out on the sofa you’ve been sleeping on for the past week. But… Well…

“Right across the street, huh?” you grin. “If I didn’t know any better, John, I’d think you’re trying to…”

“Is it working?” he laughs. “Because I’m really not trying too hard. But I can if I need to.”

You shift yourself a little bit closer to him and giggle. “Maybe try just a little bit harder so I don’t feel like I’m being too easy.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs as he shifts himself, too. “What if I were to tell you that I can make you forget all of your troubles, if only for one night.”

You look up to the sky, pretending to be deep in thought before looking back at him with a grin. “All of my troubles?”

“All of them,” he grins. “Anything that’s bothering that pretty little head of yours.”

“Sounds tempting,” you smile and say softly. “But I may need just a little more convincing.”

“Alright then,” he chuckles, leaning his face close to yours. “What if I were to kiss you right now?”

“It may help,” you smile. “But I’m not sure.” It’s quiet. You’re in the middle of the city, but it’s quiet. No cars passing by. No voices in the background. Just you and John, sitting on this park bench, the only light coming from the dimly-lit lamp across the path.

You look into his eyes, feeling almost threatened by how badly you want this. He smiles as he leans in closer, covering your lips with his. You respond immediately, his lips softer than you imagined they would be, and when he subtly prodded your mouth with his tongue, you had no qualms with letting him do it. He slowly pulled back and smiled at you again. “So, mine?” he chuckles.

As soon as his keys fall on the foyer table, you’re on each other, his hands holding your shoulders as he guides you into the bedroom, your mouths never separating, both of you giggling excitedly the whole way. As soon as he kicks the door to his bedroom shut, you pull his shirt off, rubbing your hands all over him as he pulls at your blouse until he takes it off. His hands work quickly on your bra until that, too, was in the pile on the floor, then your pants, and then your panties.

Your chest is rising and falling in slow, gentle movements as a faint smile dresses his lips. The whole moment is surreal, never a situation you ever even fantasized about being in. The soft glow of the moonlight shining through his bedroom window caresses your body as you lay on the bed. He tried to resist the desire burning inside since the second he laid eyes on you, but it was a futile effort. He leans down and softly kisses your neck and you moan lightly at his touch. His hand slides gently down your chest, following the curve of your breasts as his lips follow slowly behind. His hand slowly makes its way down the curve of your stomach, and you part your thighs, making it easy for him to find his way to the growing heat between them. With a soft sigh, your mouth parts, your tongue brushing your lips each time he runs a fingertip up and down your slit, gently touching that magic spot and circling it with the tip of his finger.

He wanted to see how long he could make you last before begging him for more, but watching how turned on you are made it impossible. The stiffness was starting to burn, practically intensifying into an ache just thinking about being inside you. He moves his hand and stands up, undoing his waistband and sliding his pants off, never taking his eyes off you. Perhaps now you can tease him, you think, and move your hand between your thighs and begin rubbing those lips that tempt him so damn badly. He stands there and watches for a moment before climbing back on the bed, putting himself in the perfect position as he lowers his head and looks up to you with a grin. He slides the tip of his tongue just around your entrance, swirling his tongue around to get a good taste. "You taste so sweet," he murmurs, feeling a faint tremble inside your core. "I could stay here for fucking days." Easing just up between your lips, just back to that spot that made you throb, he teases, licking and sucking, as the combination of your soft whimpers, trembles, and sweet scent triggers everything inside him. He savors every drop of your sweetness. With each soft moan, every lift of your hips, his arousal grows so fast he’s aware that it might just end up wasted on the bed.

He eases a long finger into you and bends it forward, gently massaged that sweet spot just at the front of your core before sliding another finger in, pressing his thumb against your clit. “Oh my god,” you murmur. “Please, John.” It’s hard for you to form your words, but you struggle until you do. “Please, get inside me. I need to feel you inside me.”

"You like that, doll?" He plunges deeper with demanding, hard thrusts.

"Yes," you whimper, raising your hips. “God, yes.”

Your desire burns through John's already aching erection, fueling him even more. “Tell me again, Y/N. Tell me you like what I'm doing."

“Yes. Please." Your voice is shaky and desperate. “I… Fuck, John.” You both start to laugh and he moves his fingers out of you, still rubbing your essence as he moves himself over you, falling into a deep kiss.

Sliding between your thighs, he slowly inches his cock deep inside you. “Like a glove,” he smirks. “Tight. Perfect.” He savors the feel, as do you, before he starts to roll his hips, pulsing himself in and out as he holds the sides of your head with his palms. Your hands reach around to his back, your nails digging deep into him with every thrust. “How do you like it?” he grunts. “Tell me what you like.”

“This,” you groan. “You feel perfect just like this.” And he does. The throbbing of his cock inside of you is fucking wonderful. But you wanted more. You needed more. He needed more – you can tell by the panting grunts he’s making in your ear. All he needs is for you to tell him. “Harder, John,” you whimper. “Fuck me harder.”

He picks himself up and the smirk on his face lets you know that’s exactly what he was waiting to hear. He pulls you close to him as he kneels in front of you and pushes himself inside you with a force that almost knocks the wind out of you, never relaxing it as he holds your knees apart and his thrusting becomes faster. “Christ, Y/N,” gasps, moving his hands from your knees so he can squeeze your thighs before he falls back down to you.

Your thighs tense, pulling him deeper. Clenching. Tensing. You’re dying to cum, desperate to feel satisfaction flowing from both of you. Still pulsing inside you, he brushes the hair from your face, your eyes glazed with lust. He kisses you gently, his eyes wide open, the moonlight painting a beautiful picture in his eyes. “I’m ready,” you whisper. “I need to cum.”

“Cum for me,” he groans. “All for me.” Pleasure flows over every inch of you body like crashing hot waves. “Come on.”

“Oh, God,” you wince. “Fuck…” His breath deepens and you see his jaw tense as he pushes relentlessly inside you, exploding into orgasm in unison. Every fiber of your body trembles in satisfaction. You hold each other close, the waves of you orgasms still moved through your bodies. He kisses you deeply with long strokes of his tongue. “Stay inside me. Please.”

Your gentle whisper rings in his ear. He didn't want to move either, not want this moment to end. The feeling is just too good to ignore. Looking deep into your eyes, he kisses you again. “But if I stay like this, then we’ll be wasting the rest of the night,” he smiles before slowly easing himself out of you and laying next to you on his back. “Unless you’re done with me and want to go home.”

“Absolutely not,” you laugh. “You said you’d make me forget all my troubles for one night.” You turn and rest your head on his chest. “And by my calculations, we still have a few hours to go.”

“And what about your day job?” he chuckles.

You raise yourself up and look over to his nightstand. “I see a phone over there,” you smirk. “I can call my boss in the morning. Unless…”

He quickly pulls you back down. “No, no,” he chuckles. “Wouldn’t want you to forget your troubles tonight only to have to remember them again tomorrow.”

“Good. Because then all of this would have been a waste of my time,” you giggle. “I don’t like wasting my time.”

His laughter starts to roar and he sits up, climbs out of the bed and puts his pants on, walks to the doorway and turns around. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Wow, and he’s good with the sweet pillow talk too,” you giggle. “I am actually hungry, yes.” He smiles and nods his head before walking out. All you can do is chuckle to yourself. This was definitely not the night you planned on having, or even the night you wanted to have, but here you are, in John Deacon’s bed, wondering what perfect planetary alignment had to happen in order for this to be your current reality. No use in trying to figure it out now, though, so you throw on the first shirt you find – the button down one he was wearing before you tore it off of him – and walk out of the bedroom.

You don’t want to snoop around, but you do take notice of the décor in the living area. You didn’t see it when you first came in since you were rushing to the bedroom. Being that he’s a musician, the instruments weren’t a shock at all. You did notice some picture frames but didn’t bother looking at their contents. Instead, you follow the noise and walk into the kitchen where he’s shuffling things around, and lean back on the counter. He’s pleasantly surprised when he turns around and sees you standing there. “Do you make it a habit to sneak up on people?”

“Do you make it a habit to leave naked girls in your bed?”

“Never,” he says. “If they’re naked I always make sure I’m there with them.”

You raise your brow and smirk. “Then why’d you leave me there?”

He throws whatever he was holding in his hands on the counter, chuckles deeply and walks over to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. “Because I was hoping to walk back in there, see you laying there, and pretend like I was seeing you for the first time all over again.” He leans down with a smile and gives you a quick kiss. “But now you’ve ruined it.” You start to giggle, biting your bottom lip and try to push him away, but he’s stronger than you. “No, ma’am, you’re not going anywhere.” He picks you up and seats you on the counter. He bites his bottom lip and smiles. “I’m glad I met you.”

“I’m glad you met me, too,” you giggle. “Do you have ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” he laughs. ”Yes, I have ice cream.”

“I want ice cream,” you grin.

“She wants ice cream,” he jokingly mumbles. “Guess we need to get the lady ice cream.” He walks to the freezer, grabs the container of ice cream, grabs two spoons from a drawer and walks back over to you. “If I give you my ice cream, you have to give me your number.”

You take a spoon from his hand and take a spoonful of the ice cream. “If I give you my number, you have to make sure you call it.”

“I will definitely call it.” He rubs a hand on your thigh and smiles. “This wasn’t my intention when I started talking to you tonight. I want you to know that.”

“I know,” you smile. “That’s why I’m going to give you my number.” By this point, the ice cream on your spoon has started to melt and dropped on your thigh. “Dammit,” you giggle.

“I’ll clean it off,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows and squatting down, looking at you as he slowly licks it off. “Better?” he smirks, standing back up and giving you a quick kiss.

You wrap your arms around him and smile. “I think you need to take me back in there.”

“Yeah,” he whispers. He grins and grabs your legs, wrapping them around him and pulls you off the counter. “Because there’s only a couple of hours left of today. Then I have to start to make sure you forget all of your troubles tomorrow.”

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