#the prompts made me discover this song. i think it suits them

[maomango-doodle]

"And I hope you die, I hope we both die."

(Lyrics : No children by The Mountain Goats)

[reeshyz]

Title: We disintegrate in love Pairing: Paul Landers / Christoph Schneider Presentee:  @tills-titts Prompt: Snow Angel Warnings/Tags: Lovesickness | Heartache | Mutual pining Word Count: 2491 Summary: Christoph is glad that they’re finally recording a new album, but Paul always seems so sad and lost in his thoughts, which is so unusual for him. Christoph wants to know what’s wrong and he couldn’t be more happy when he discovers the truth. Read on Ao3: here

♪

“How about another guitar solo at that point of the song?” Christoph asks and he looks over to Paul, who’s staring at his notebook, as if his life depends on it. Christoph knows that the paper is empty, he can see it from here.

“Maybe. I think Paul would be better suited for this part though,” Richard agrees and he writes something down. His paper is already completely full with notes. Christoph can see that Till is frowning as well, when Paul still doesn’t react at all. Lately he seems so often lost in his thoughts.

It doesn’t suit him. And it doesn’t fit him at all.

“Paulchen?” Till tries now and finally Paul looks up, he’s still biting down on his lower lip, looking so sad and hurt at the same time, that Christoph wonders what had happened before they all got together to produce this new album.

“Yeah?” “Did you even listen at all in the last hour?” Flake asks now, he doesn’t sound annoyed exactly, but his dry tone doesn’t help either. Paul doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t look exactly comfortable either.

“Sorry I’m… not feeling so well,” Paul says and Christoph knows that he’s not lying. Paul would never admit something like this, if it wasn’t true. He hates to show weakness in front of them, even though they know each other for so many years by now. 

“Do you want to lay down for a bit?” Christoph asks and Paul turns to him. They are sitting next to each other and his face softens, when he looks at him. Sometimes Christoph wishes he could lean closer and just kiss him. 

He’s sure that those kisses would taste so good. Christoph hums at his own thoughts; he can't help it.

“Are you worried about me?” Paul asks and his voice is so sweet and soft. If he could only see himself in Christoph’s eyes. Paul often doesn’t even know what kind of impact he has on people.

He plays that part on stage very well and then he feels powerful.

Apart from that, he’s rather the opposite. Always having so many self-doubts and he doesn’t even know his own worth. Not as a rockstar, but as a person. As a friend or as a lover. Christoph’s heart aches whenever he hears Paul talking bad about himself.

“I’m always worried about you,” Christoph says honestly and he can hear Richard  chuckling. He doesn’t need to look to the other three to see their knowing smiles. He should’ve never told Flake and Richard. Those two couldn’t keep secrets.

Paul blinks. So surprised. Of course. 

“What is this? Enemies to friends?” Paul chuckles, trying to make a joke out of it, because he’s uncomfortable now. He pretends to hate it when they show him affection and Christoph knows that he’s talking about the Feeling B era, where he had really hated him. 

Paul loves to bring that up. Probably thinks that Christoph still holds that against him. Not that he ever would. They had made up a long time ago and Christoph always needed Paul in his life.

“Nope. We were always friends and will forever be,” Christoph says and that’s a promise he is sure he can keep. Actually he knows he will keep it. He can’t imagine a life without Paul anymore.

Paul looks down now. Suddenly he seems so sad again.

“I just… I need a break, is that okay?” Paul asks and he looks over to Till. Christoph frowns, he had thought his words would cheer Paul up and not make it even worse. Till seems just as surprised. 

“Eh, yeah sure. We will continue later with that. We could talk about ‘Puppe’ in the meantime. I wanted to change the lyrics a bit for that and ask Flake for his opinion,” Till says, his eyes still wide. Paul nods and then gets up.

“I will just go for a quick walk,” Paul promises and he walks into the small hallway where they all have their jackets and boots stored. Christoph sighs quietly.

“I think you should go with him. It’s… never good if he’s alone, when he’s like this,” Oliver says slowly, so soft that Paul shouldn’t be able to hear it and Christoph knows that he’s right. Paul tends to overthink when he’s in a mood like this. Probably because it happens so rarely.

Christoph nods at the other guys and then follows Paul out into the hallway. Paul is already dressed, just putting on some thick gloves, since it had snowed all night. 

“Is it okay when I come with you?” Christoph asks, because he doesn’t want to pressure Paul into anything. He has the feeling that he is the reason for Paul’s mood. Maybe… Paul had found out about his feelings?

In the last ten years Rammstein had taken a long break and Christoph hadn’t seen any of them regularly. But he had missed Paul so much and when they had all met up again in summer, that aching feeling his chest had grown with each day they had spent together.

At first he hadn’t really realized that he was falling in love with Paul. Richard had teased him for weeks about it and Christoph had denied it until one morning, when he had seen Paul curled up and sleeping so cutely on his couch after a long night out, then he had accepted it. 

He’s in love with Paul. His friend. He could do this and ignore his feelings.

Or so he had thought.

If Paul knew and was uncomfortable, then this could destroy everything. Not only their friendship but maybe the band too. Christoph swallows dryly.

“Of course,” Paul says, a small smile on his face. He’s wearing a black beanie that Christoph had never seen before, but he looks adorable. Christoph hastily gets dressed and they leave their warm studio together.

He’s kinda glad now that Till had the idea of renting this small house in the middle of nowhere, because no matter how much he loves to play his drums, sometimes he needs a quietness like this. 

The first few minutes they just walk together through the snow. Christoph likes the soft noise the snow makes with each step. 

“So… Do you want to talk about it?” Christoph starts carefully. He has really no idea what to say to Paul. Normally Richard is the one who’s good with conversations like this. He could make you feel safe and he always knew how to help everyone. But he wants to be there for Paul as well.

“About what?” Paul asks back. 

“I don’t know. You just seem so sad. When we first got back together in summer you seemed happy to continue with the band…,” Christoph says slowly and Paul nods.

“I am happy about the band,” Paul says and Christoph frowns. That doesn’t really help him at all. Typical for Paul to always speak in riddles, when it’s important.

“But? Has something changed since August? Everything okay at home?” Christoph asks and Paul shrugs. Ah. So something happened.

“Not really. I mean I’m single again, but is that really a surprise?” Paul asks and Christoph frowns. He didn't know that Paul and his girlfriend had broken up. Normally Paul tells them things like this.

“What do you mean?” Christoph says, his voice breaking. He can’t even focus on the fact that Paul is officially single again (not like he has a chance either way) but he hates how little Paul thinks about himself again.

“I mean… I thought I would find someone forever. But nope I destroyed it, because I’m so dumb,” Paul says and his voice changes. He sounds really angry. Christoph stops walking.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Christoph answers slowly. Paul stops walking as well and looks at him. He seems surprised, because Christoph is angry now too. Not at Paul, but at everyone who ever made Paul feel like this.

“Huh?”

“Everyone would be lucky to have you!” Christoph says and he wishes he hadn’t said that. Not because Paul doesn’t deserve to hear it, but because he feels like he really said too much now. Paul tilts his head. 

“Very funny,” Paul huffs and that is somehow worse. He doesn’t even believe him.

“Hey, you’re talking so badly about one of my best friends,” Christoph says and he tries to be as outraged as he can. Paul is at least smiling again.

“You’re an idiot,” Paul says and Christoph huffs. 

“Shut up,” Christoph says and he pushes Paul playfully away. It seems like Paul is surprised by that and he pushes Christoph back even harder. Christoph hadn’t thought that he would do that, but he lets himself fall on his back into the snow.

“Oh shit,” Paul says but he’s giggling, it’s such a cute sound.

“You asshole,” Christoph says, more fake-angry than anything. He stays where he is and looks up into the sky though. It will turn dark in just a few minutes. Christoph slowly moves his arms and his legs and grins up at Paul. “What are you doing?” Paul asks and he tilts his head. Christoph snorts.

“Making a snow angel obviously,” Christoph answers and he continues to do so. Paul shakes his head, but he is still smiling. Christoph sighs happily.

“How do you always stay so positive, you always make something good even in a bad situation. I’d be pissed that my pants are wet,” Paul says, but he does step closer and watches him.

“Well we can’t control everything in life, can we? Sometimes it’s okay to just have fun, you especially should know that. Normally you come up with bullshit like this, so you should try it again. I miss your smile,” Christoph says and he winks at Paul.

Paul shrugs and then jumps into the snow next to Christoph, before he slowly starts to make a snow angel as well. Christoph laughs loudly.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“You said I should try it!”

“Oh my god, you’re killing me,” Christoph answers, but he doesn’t get up. Even now doing something so silly like a snow angel as an adult, Paul seems rather highly concentrated on his task.

“I meant in general. You often think only about the bad things, but pretend then that everything is alright. Especially when it comes to yourself,” Christoph says and Paul stops his movements.

“I can’t help it sometimes,” Paul mumbles and Christoph nods. He would help Paul to work on these issues, but right now he needed something else.

“I know, but we can work on that. But not now. Right now I wanna distract you from those dumb thoughts and besides, I want vengeance,” Christoph says and he takes some snow into his hand, only to pour it over Paul, who actually shrieks when most of it gets into his face. 

“You asshole!” Paul says and he tries to free himself of the snow. Christoph laughs loudly at that sight and suddenly they are both laughing like idiots. Christoph can’t help but continue to stare at Paul. He stops laughing and he prays to whoever might listen that Paul wouldn’t be able to read his feelings in his eyes. 

“What?” Paul laughs now. He’s covered in snow, some of the snowflakes are even clinging to his long eyelashes. Christoph feels like he can’t breathe. He had never seen someone more stunning. His heart beats so fast again and he’s for sure blushing now.

They’re laying so close.

“Nothing. Just glad I could make you laugh again,” Christoph says and he means that. He wants to stay forever at this moment. Paul stops laughing so loudly, but he continues to smile. Christoph wants to touch him so badly. 

“You are so beautiful like this,” Christoph says and he can see how Paul frowns at that. Of course he doesn’t believe him.

“You’re an idiot,” Paul says.

“You are always beautiful, but especially when you laugh, you have no idea how much strength it costs me to hold myself back each time I’m around you,” Christoph whispers and he can see how Paul’s eyes widen at that.

Speechless. And isn’t that a first?

Christoph's anxiety is back in full force though when he sees how Paul looks right now. His stomach squeezes painfully. Shit, now he has ruined it all.

“W-what?” 

“Sorry,” Christoph says and he closes his eyes. They’re still laying on the ground and by now the wet clothes really start to bother him. He feels so cold now. When he opens his eyes, Paul is sitting up and hiding his face in his hands. 

Shit.

“Paulchen?”

“D-don’t give me so much hope again,” Paul mumbles, he sounds as if he’s crying, which he never does in front of anyone. Christoph feels like the biggest asshole in the world. He made Paul cry. Christoph hastily sits up as well.

“Paul, I’m sorry I didn’t… I just…,” .Christoph stops and then thinks about what Paul had just said. He didn't sound disgusted, but heartbroken. 

Paul sniffles.

“Paul, please look at me,” Christoph says and he sounds as if he’s begging. Maybe that’s why Paul actually turns to look at him. His blue eyes so piercing through the tears. Christoph gathers all of his courage together.

“I’m in love with you,” Christoph whispers, when Paul stays quiet. This time Paul makes a surprised noise that sounds so cute, that Christoph feels himself smiling. He had finally said it.

“Chris…,” Paul says, tearing up even worse now. Christoph smiles through his own tears, relief and so much happiness spreading through his whole body, he can’t really help it. He holds his arms out.

“It’s okay. Come here. I mean it,” Christoph says and he opens his arms. This time Paul moves so fast that he pushes Christoph back into the snow. Christoph laughs, because he doesn’t think there’s anything better than having Paul on top of him.

The cute blush on Paul’s face makes him look even more perfect.

“Ich liebe dich auch. I thought you would hate me. That’s why I was so weird the last few days, I was scared you figured out how much I was pining for you, because even my girlfriend figured it out,” Paul says, so softly, so scared. Christoph smiles even wider. Paul relaxes a bit at that.

“I could never hate you. I told you we’ve always been friends and we would always be friends. So that’s why she left you? Cause she knew that you were in love with me,” Christoph says and Paul nods. He’s so warm and Christoph slowly presses a short kiss to Paul’s hot cheek.

“But you… uhm wanna be more than friends, right?” Paul asks then and it’s adorable how clumsy he is with something like that. Christoph would help him to show his feelings more openly. 

“Friends to lovers hm? Count me in,” Christoph laughs and Paul rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling so widely. 

He leans closer and shuts Paul up with a kiss, so he couldn’t answer something stupid. Paul gasps quietly and then kisses him back. Christoph pulls him even closer.

Neither of them care that they ruined their beautiful snow angels now. Christoph only cares about the man in his arms.

[watchmegetobsessed]

ANOTHER TITLE

a/n: personally i’ve been waiting for this part to come since the beginning lmao, so here is the proposal finally!! it’s like so fluffy, almost disgustingly, but i just couldn’t help myself

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.8k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You’ve been eating like a hormonal teenage boy these past weeks and you know it needs to stop and held under control, but you just can’t help yourself. It’s like your stomach has become a black hole that needs to absorb any and every food that’s home, you’re constantly snacking beside the large portions you eat three times a day, there’s always something you’re craving, the shopping list on the fridge is changing every hour because you think of something else to eat.

Luckily, you haven’t gained that much weight besides the noticeable bump that’s your baby in your belly, seems like your little girl does need all the food and she uses it instead of letting it all get stuck on other parts of your body, so you’re fine for just now.

Sitting on the couch, watching some kind of soap opera, you’re snacking on an entire jar of Nutella this time, shamelessly stuffing your mouth with the sweet, thick stuff, pretty sure that nothing will be left of it by the end of the day. Sebastian is away again for his second filming that was scheduled even before you found out you were pregnant and he messed around with it a little, shortening it once again and you just visited him last weekend. Now that you are pushing the end of your second trimester, your bump is quite evident, not something you can hide easily, so when you showed up on set with your boyfriend, you didn’t even try to cover it up, knowing well someone would spot it sooner or later. However everyone on the team has been so respectful, keeping the news to themselves, because no headlines have been made about your pregnancy just yet, keeping the secret even longer. To be honest, you’re surprised it hasn’t been discovered sooner, you thoughr someone would catch you out and about and see right through your baggy clothes and sell the news to the tabloids, but now you are in the sixth month and no one knows a thing.

Your phone chimes next to you, a text from Seb and you hum to yourself happily, putting the jar aside to grab the phone and see what he wrote.

“How are my two favorite girls doing? Miss you a lot!”

He even attached a silly selfie of himself in hair and makeup, he looks adorable with the clips in his hair and some kind of patches under his eyes. Like a real beauty guru.

Grabbing the Nutella, you place it on top of your bump as you move the phone to a lower angle and take a selfie that makes your bump look even bigger, the jar on top and you grinning widely at the camera as you snap a picture and send it to him with your reply.

“Enjoying our third snack of the day at 11 am! Miss you too, can’t wait to see you next week!”

He reads the message right away, his reply coming just seconds later.

“Look at that bump! You look gorgeous, baby! Can’t wait to see you too, have fun with your sister today, love you lots Xx”

Since he has left you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy so you don’t miss him too much and you’re also using these weeks to spend as much time with your friends and family as possible, knowing well once the baby arrives you won’t be going out that much for a while, nestled up in your home, learning the ropes of being a mother. Today you are meeting up with your sister, she is taking you out to this alleged new, quite fancy restaurant you haven’t heard about before. She claimed that it’s really exclusive, so you don’t have to worry about being photographed or bothered, but she also told you to glam yourself up for the occasion. It’s gonna be some nice sister time, something you haven’t been able to do in a long time.

You take the assignment seriously, doing your hair and makeup the best you can and you decide to put on a flowy maxi dress with a soft, knitted cardigan, very much going for a kind of cottage core vibe. Leaving just in time you text your sister that you’re on your way, putting the address into the GPS and heading out of town, because the place is near the beach. She texts you back that she’ll meet you there and so your short little road trip begins. Sitting in the car you’re listening to one of the many playlists Sebastian has made for you and the baby, he likes to play them at home, humming the songs under his breath, hoping to start educating your little girl in the field of music as early as possible. You have to admit he has a good taste, so you don’t mind it at all.

As you follow the instructions of the GPS you find the place that’s supposed to be your destination, but it doesn’t seem like a restaurant at all, more like a mansion of some kind, a very expensive looking if you are being honest. There are no other cars, no sign of other people so as you park at the front you call your sister.

“Hey, I’m right outside, but I have a feeling I’m at the wrong place? It doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

“Oh, don’t worry! You’re at the right place! I’m a little late, but I’ll be there soon, just go inside, they are expecting us!” she assures you, but you’re still not convinced.

Ending the call you approach the entrance and for your surprise the heavy doors open before you could even knock or find the bell. A man in a tuxedo appears in front of you, smiling warmly at you.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, a little shy and confused.

“Please, follow me,” prompts as you walk inside and the two of you start crossing the grandiose hall of the building.

At this point you are sure it’s not a restaurant, but you have no idea why your sister wanted you to come here. You want to ask the man if you’re even at the right place, but he called you by your name so he was expecting you, this has to be the place where you’re supposed to be. More and more questions pile up in your head as you follow him out to the backyard, a gigantic, flower-filled garden that’s straight out of a fairytale, a path leading down to the beach where there’s a dreamy little pergola with even more flowers and fairy lights and as your eyes fall on the figure standing in the middle of the pergola, you immediately gasp.

Because surrounded with all the flowers and lights, there is Sebastian standing in an elegant suit, smiling widely at you as the man next to you helps you down the stairs before you start walking down the path to him.

Tears are flooding your eyes, because you already know what it is, but you can’t believe it’s really happening. He was so sneaky, he got home from filming earlier and even made your sister play along to surprise you, he is such a romantic soul, no one can change your mind about that!

“You’re not in Atlanta!” you tell him when he is finally close enough to hear you. He chuckles sweetly, taking a few steps forward to meet you sooner, his hands finding your waist as you cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to kiss you right away.

“No, I’m not, baby,” he smirks, his hands sliding to your belly, gently stroking the sides as you wipe your tears away, but there’s no use, because the next moment, he steps back a little, just enough so that he can get down on one knee and you’re crying again when you see him pull out a little velvety box from his pocket.

You were expecting it. You knew he would propose before the baby arrives, but you just didn’t know when and how, but he surely outdone himself with his little surprise.

“My Love, Y/N,” he starts after a deep breath, his hands finding yours and you can feel the shaking, but you’re not sure if it’s coming from yours or his. Probably both. “I’ve spent the best years of my life with you and I haven’t been the same man since the day I met you, but in the best way possible. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m so lucky that you did not only choose to be with me, but you are now carrying our baby under your heart as well, out little one who is equal parts of you and me, though you’re doing ninety percent of the job here,” he adds with a chuckle, making you laugh through your tears. “I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you the moment you were so badass on your first date, kissing me when I didn’t have the balls to do the first step, but I’m glad you did. I fell in love with you right then and there and the same thing has been happening every day, over and over again since then. I know we went a little out of order with everything we had planned,” he smirks, glancing down at your bump before his blue eyes find yours again, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so I have a question for you.”

He pops the lid of the box open, a gorgeous, brilliant diamond ring coming to your vision, sparkling in the warm afternoon Sun so perfectly, it takes your breath away.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he asks, clearly nervous, even though there’s no doubt about your answer, you’ve told him plenty of times before that you want to marry him, but still, it’s a huge moment in both your lives.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you nod eagerly as you both start laughing in relief, his shaky fingers tagging the ring out of the box and sliding it to your finger gently, before he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the ring.

Then he finally stands up and you basically throw yourself into his arms, kissing him like your life depends on it as he kisses you back with just as much force.

“I love you and I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he sighs pleased against your lips.

“Mm, another title in the line? Girlfriend, baby mama, fiancé and then wife,” you giggle giddily.

“You missed one,” he cocks an eyebrow at you slyly.

“Which one?”

“Love of my life.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[phoebe-delia]

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

1.

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

2.

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

3.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

4.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

5.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Rainy Day

Frederick Chilton x Reader

For @storiesofsvu​​’s Fall Bingo! Requested by a discord friend (& basically co-written by—this is all her idea!) 

Warnings: Post-burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. Chilton goes for a walk and gets rained on. It’s too late for an umbrella to help, but you’ll offer anyway. 

1,200 words

The clouds darkened by a shade with every painfully slow step he took toward the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Out across the bay, thunder rolled low and distant. The sidewalk was dry, but he could not yet see the hospital rising above the suburban city outskirts. Knowing his luck, the storm would speed up in his direction, outpacing his retreat.

Dr. Frederick Chilton could only move so fast these days.

His joints ached, his muscle tone was still diminished, and his skin… his skin was far too tight. Gods—he remembered one time, in a pique of fashion, he had tried on those skinny jeans the hipsters were so fond of. He nearly had to be surgically removed from the constricting garment. That was what it felt like all the time now—the burn scars surrounding his legs’ circumference were their own overly tight fabric.

Walking was part of his daily physical therapy regimen, which he attempted to do over lunch. He was the BSHCI’s administrator again after a year-long recovery. The familiar job was the best place for him now. In the old days, he saw running the hospital as a position of prestige—a launching board for fame as a criminal psychiatrist. Now, he saw it as it was—a place to hide in anonymity. A place he could languish, simply coasting without worrying about fans or interviews in front of cameras promoting his latest novel.

The trees whispered as a cold rush of wind struck his face. Rain began to fall.

From the first day he met you, you always looked at him with such kindness. Nothing like his other staff. You were a little reserved, a bit shy. Didn’t seem to mix with the others either, like him. You smiled all the time, like he used to do when he was young and still thought he could be friends with everyone, before he discovered how they spoke about him when he was not in the room, unaware of his monitoring devices. But you never spoke that way.

How he wished he had said something sooner.

Dark circles pattered into existence on the grey pavement. The few other pedestrians out on the street began to sprint for shelter, and then he was alone. Beneath the red-and-orange leaved street trees, mirror images of the canopy were painted on the dry sidewalk. The musty smell of earth filled his nose.

The day Frederick Chilton left the BSHCI to tour his book, Hannibal the Cannibal, he thought he was such a bigshot.

There were more important things to do than pursue romance with a lowly secretary who made his heart beat faster. He was finally on his way to national acclaim. There would be more romances on his rise—partners more befitting his station.

He left you behind without ever telling you…

Rain was pouring now—heavy, round droplets that beat against the ground and soaked through his suit. Cold.

A car driving too fast deliberately swerved into a puddle at the curb to splash him, and dirty water pelted his leg. He jumped back and swore, angrily shaking his cane at their taillights, but it hardly mattered. The suit was already ruined. It was worsted wool of the finest quality, and the chances of it drying correctly were slim.

He already had to buy new suits tailored to fit his gaunt body.

The last thing he remembered was the smell of gasoline smoke and his own flesh burning, then waking up in a white room, unable to move his limbs.

Pain everywhere.

For the first few weeks, it was so ubiquitous, so searing, he couldn’t even remember that his lips were gone.

Hypermetabolism and six months of bed rest reduced his body mass by 70 pounds. He lost so much: skin, lips, independence. But he gained something, too.

A soft knock.

Your shy voice at the door.

The breeze howled, ripping off yellow leaves from branches and setting them spiraling into the grey sky. Frederick hugged his arms around his shivering body, but it was a futile gesture against the autumn chill.

You were his one regular visitor in the hospital. Though he was a snarling, angry, nearly feral creature at first, trapped in a chrysalis of humiliation and pain, you tolerated it. Found ways to made him laugh—a dark and cynical bark—and eventually even smile. He enjoyed your company, and you seemed to enjoy his. The witty conversations would last until visiting hours were over, and a nurse shooed you out.

When he learned that you still worked at the BSHCI, it cemented his decision to return.

After all this time, someone was waiting for him.

Squinting his eyes through the rivulets of water running down his forehead, Frederick noticed a splash of bright red at the end of the block. It grew larger, coming toward him. The Red Death coming for Prospero was his first superstitious thought, or an envoy of the Red Dragon come to finish him off where his master failed.

As the figure jogged closer and came into focus, Frederick realized it was not the red of blood and death, but the red of a rose—of life and passion. You held up the umbrella against the downpour, your boots splashing through puddles as you hurried to reach him.

When your soft hands held his ghastly, mutilated, scarred claws, he felt like a monster, not a lover. He was broken. He had loved you for so long, but he was too broken now—it was pointless. A walking corpse (who could barely walk, at that) should not attach himself like an anchor to someone so lovely and full of life.

You were kind and gentle and patient, and he was a burden.

Why did he wait to tell you? Why did he think promoting a book was more important than being near the one person to make him feel like a decent man?

“Found you!” you panted for breath, sides expanding and falling rapidly. “I saw the weather… and I noticed you… didn’t take…” You stood close and held up the umbrella to shelter him.

Above, the constant pelting of freezing droplets on his forehead transformed into the low roar of rain hitting a tent roof. His drenched suit continued to drip. The $2,000 real-hair wig was plastered to his scorched-bald scalp like a drowned rat.

“I am not certain this will make any difference,” he let out a small laugh at the umbrella that arrived too late.

“You’ve been through enough,” you smiled sadly. “Let me help where I can.”

“That is kind of you.”

Without being prompted, he reached out for your hand and let it warm his icy fingertips. You leaned against his chest, unconcerned that your own clothes were getting wet, and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek. It was too chilly a day for him to grumble and withdraw from your affection, calling himself a monster. He was freezing to the bone, and the heat of your lips felt too good.

It was too late, wasn’t it? Too late for love; too late to be saved.

He turned and nuzzled your neck, nipping the soft, salty skin there. It was a much more comforting sensation to focus on than the clinging of his wet clothes. And he was glad, as you walked back to the BSHCI together, that no new raindrops fell on his head.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Taglist:

@beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​ / @sassyada​ / @detectivebarba​

[thiserichann]

cinderella and the mystery of the red lipstick (smut version) - d.sc

reader x roommate!winwin

genre: smut, fluff, humor

warnings: making out, drunk sex, femdom, safe sex, a bit of soft dom! Winwin and soft dom! reader

word count: 2562

synopsis: this is another Cinderella fic, except for the fact that she left lipstick stains instead of glass slippers

prompt:

This is my (very late) entry for @neosmutcollective's Risque event.

The song it was based on was Lips by NCT 127 (although it leaned towards the demo version more)

It was also a bit upbeat because the song Cinderella by CNBLUE (the Youth With You version) has been stuck on my head for ages now.

Enjoy reading!

Love, Ellie.

(link to the full story here)

Entering the party through someone’s window is probably the most ungraceful way to enter the party. However, you had no choice. Yes, it was rude to enter someone’s party without the owner’s invite. But, in your defense, it was ruder to not invite someone to a house party at your place.

Your brother, dear Hendery Huang, was kind enough to send you on your merry way that morning when you told him that you’re coming home late for a project.

“You know what, since I love you so much, you can stay over until morning. Sounds fun, right?”

And then the bastard proceeded to throw a party that same day.

The window to your shared bedroom with Hendery was wide open. He should be glad that it was you walking in rather than a criminal.

It wasn’t a criminal offense if you’re the one breaking in at your place.

You have successfully entered your room, changing into an outfit that your family would’ve never approved of, and wore layers of makeup to hide your identity. After the makeover, you’re almost unrecognizable. Your favorite touch is that bright red lip that you ordered from a friend that morning. There had been a mix-up in the delivery, you’re supposed to get that mauve color that you always wore when you go out. It was an honest mistake on the seller’s part, but you were kind enough to not send it back and keep the color instead.

You made it out of the room without being unnoticed. It’s not like anyone knows you at all though. The crowd is usually made up of people within Hendery and his roommates’ circle, people you usually do not interact with daily. You’ve also managed to sneak past the living room and into the kitchen where all the booze is. Grabbing a red cup full of whatever alcohol was on the counter, you made your way once again to the sea of people enjoying the party.

Since you barely knew every one, you just settled on leaning against the wall and observed the rest of the party. Honestly, you couldn’t understand what the fuss was about. It’s just a bunch of people using alcohol as an excuse to doing a bunch of dumb shit.

The introvert in you kicked in, and so you decided to finish your vodka in peace, which is translated to getting drunk in your room as you watch your favorite Netflix series.

Smiling happily, you made your way out past the crowd and into the sleeping quarters, where your room is. Thankfully, the guys are nowhere to be found and you can happily sneak back to your room without getting noticed. You have failed to account for one thing though. Near the sleeping quarters is a single, communal bathroom. Just as you’re about to enter your room, outcomes Sicheng, in a daze, trying his best to stand still as he holds on to the bathroom door for support.

“You can’t go there.” He croaked, speech already slurring due to his drunken state.

“Ah, yes. Thanks.” You made zero fuss about it, knowing that staying there would expose you to Sicheng. You don’t think he will tell your brother of your current whereabouts, but you digressed, just to be safe.

He then proceeds to call your name.

“Is that you? Can you help me out here?” You grunted, knowing full well that your identity had just been revealed. The guy looked like he needed help though, so you threw all the world in and helped him go back to his room. You grabbed him by his arms, which he then wrapped around you to help him support his weight, and walked step by step towards his room.

You heard footsteps coming from the outside, and in your panic, you used the drunk man’s body to shield the view of whoever it is that’s coming that way.

“Winwin hyung, you alright back there?”

Your heartbeat raced when you heard your brother’s voice. Knowing him, he would tell your mother that her precious little daughter is not only drunk but she’s wrapped around a guy’s arms doing god-knows-what. You leaned across the wall, stretching your arm out and wrapping it around Winwin’s neck. You pulled him closer, bodies only inches apart, making it look like the two of you are making out.

“Oh, you’re busy. Alright. Have fun!” The footsteps were gone in the moment, but your position stayed the same. You turned your gaze back at Sicheng, which is now looking at you weirdly.

“Hey.” You whispered.

“Hey.”

“I would like to get out of this position now.” You whispered once again, hints of your nerves already peeking out of your voice.”

“You’re pretty.” You stayed quiet, but you’re mentally screaming inside. Your emotions are going in a frenzy and something on the back of your mind keeps on telling you to pull him closer and turn the act into reality.

But that would be weird, right? Even if you’re a bit tipsy, reason has never left your brain. It’s nagging you to do the opposite, to push him away and proceed with your evening plans. The internal conflict rendered you frozen on the spot.

His eyes were fixed on yours, and as much as you want to look away, you’re afraid that that will get you into more danger. Looking away means you’re gonna have to take your eyes off of him, and you won’t see what he’s about to do next.

He was staring, which you now realized is him waiting for you to react and do something. Pull him closer and get lost in him, or push him away and live with the rest of your lives knowing that you missed an opportunity to get with someone you never thought would be interested in you.

Something.

Your inactive irritated him, and so he leaned in closer, his lips now hovering above yours, the scent of his perfume, sweat, and alcohol made him addictive.

“What’s stopping you right now?”

You were breathless, but you know you had to answer. He’s got a bit of authoritativeness in him and you feel like refusal consequent to a punishment.

“You.”

“I can stop if you're uncomfortable,” Winwin smiles, not the perverted kind, but the sweet reassuring kind that made you melt inside. "But the way you're holding me right now tells me otherwise."

He carefully placed his hands on your hip, calculating his every move to not get slapped that evening. It worked. You didn't even pick up a fight, even as his hands glided to your back to finally seal the distance between the two of you.

"So tell me, do you want me to stop?"

You had a clear answer in your head, but no sounds come out of your mouth except small squeaks and squeals due to his touch. It took you a while to utter the following words to him.

"No. Don't stop."

"Good." That was his only response. He took your answer as a sign of your consent and pushed you back to the wall, finally claiming your lips as he does so. You moaned under him, unable to tell him about how overwhelmed you are, and that you don't know how to move and match his pace. You take a deep breath and relaxed, letting him take the lead as he hugged you closer, going deeper into the kiss. He also made sure to give attention to your neck and jaws, which leaves you to place your lips in any piece of skin that you're able to reach the moment.

Before anything fun happens though, he pulled away from you, leaving you there in confusion.

"More?"

"More." This time, it was you who initiated the kiss. Slowly, you get traces of the old Sicheng back. The shy and quiet kid from before, not the confident sex demon that he was a few minutes back.

He had the mind to open his bedroom door, which was just a few inches away from where the two of you were just standing. The idea of him having common sense made him a lot sexier. It was enough to tickle that sapiophile in you.

In a few careful steps, your back hits the bed and he was on top of you. It seems like he was uncomfortable with that idea, and so he carried you in his arms and switched the positions, leaving you on top of him. You can still tell that he was very drunk, and he might not be able to do things with full precision in that state. Again, his sense is sexy.

You took that as a sign to take over, so you pulled away to try and fix the position into something more comfortable. When you did though, you were horrified to see that your lipstick was not kiss-proof, and so he some of it smeared all across his face and neck. It didn't bother him at all though because he used his perfectly white shirt to wipe some of it off of his face.

"Well?" You were snapped back into reality and proceeded to sit on his lower torso, kissing him with the same intensity that you did earlier. He happily returned the favor, making sure to place his hands on your sensitive skin, giving you goosebumps all over.

He was the first one to take off his shirt, throwing it into the side of the bed to take some of the heat off his body. You followed the suit, discovering that you made a good call earlier by wearing something sexy underneath. It was supposed by making you feel confident as you blend in with the crowd earlier, but it was a happy coincidence that it matched with the lipstick that you had earlier.

He sat down from the bed, leaning against the bedframe, just so he can reach you better. His fingers twirled around the straps of your bra, bringing them down slowly and let them fall to your shoulders. You helped him out by unclasping the hook, removing it completely from your body. It has now joined the pile of discarded clothing below the bed.

His eyes now fall on your half-naked body, gulping down a few times before he said, "I never really took you as the type to do this." You placed a finger in his chins and scooted closer.

"Me neither." You placed a few, quick pecks on his lips, which slowly turned back into a more passionate one, tasting the aftertaste of alcohol in each other's mouth. His hand traveled upwards, cupping a boob softly. The touch sent shivers throughout your body. He started kneading it softly, matching the current pace of the kiss. In between kisses, he staring spewing out nonsense, like how beautiful you looked at that light and how soft your skin feels under his skin. This is the most talkative he's been since you first saw him, and you can't tell if it's the alcohol or he's just that noisy in bed. Nonetheless, you were elated. Every piece of flattery that he says made you blush, making you glow even more in his eyes.

But his favorite will always be your lips. He loved it when your lips left red marks on his neck. He loved it when you moan his name every time his hand would caress you. He made sure to let you know that your pretty lips would be something that he can't forget.

He takes off the rest of your clothes. Even as he dipped his fingers inside you, he made sure to claim your lips, keeping it occupied as much as he can. It's the only thing that's keeping him hooked, even when his body is telling him to shut down.

You couldn't wait any longer, and so you scooted down and took off his pants and underwear, rolling it off him as quickly as you can. You didn't wait for him to respond, taking it in your mouth instead, earning a surprised gasp from him. You can hear him whining from under you, moaning your name, and as your mouth takes all of him. It didn't take a while though, because he motioned you to stop and come closer. He was breathless after you were done with him.

He reached out for the desk rights beside his bed, feeling out the drawers before he managed to pull out a foil packet. He carelessly ripped it with his teeth and grabbed the condom inside to hand it to you. You realized that his vision must still be blurry, and so you took the liberty to unroll it in his cock and get on with it. Then, you carefully lined his dick to your entrance, lowering your body slowly, stretching you down until he was fully inside. He grabbed your hips and pushed inside further into you unexpectedly.

"Oh my god, Dong Sicheng!"

He laughed at the notion of you saying his full name in shock, but you were able to recover quickly and met his movements, which is getting quicker and harder every few minutes. Your head falls on his chest, muffling your moans with his skin as you tried your best to keep quiet and hide your presence from the rest of the people in the party. More lipstick stains scatter on his chest, but at that point, Sicheng never cared. He wasn't feeling like himself anymore. His thoughts are empty besides the image of you on top of him, riding him out to orgasm.

Winwin is now getting rougher by the second, series of moans and curses spilling from his mouth as his grip on your waist gets tighter, drilling deeper and harder into you like a madman. You also threw all care away, moans now reaching all four corners of the room, holding on to Sicheng for your damn life as you get closer to your orgasm. In one quick thrust, you started to unravel on top of him, hugging his body closer as you shiver from your orgasm. He never slowed down, because he soon let out a long, drawn-out groan, and you can feel him growing soft inside you, milking out your orgasms as much as he can.

The activity did a number on Sicheng because, in a few minutes of cuddling from under his sheets, you can already hear the quiet snores coming from his direction. You felt bad, apologetic even, that he had to pour out all of his remaining energy on you that night. You slowly pulled away from him, picking the rest of your clothes off before you bid your roommate goodbye for tonight. As much as you loved the cuddles, you'd rather be caught dead than be caught by your brother under someone's bed.

///

"Please don't let any of this get to Hendery. He would never let me see the end of it." You pleaded, placing a hand on the bridge of your nose as you recall the moments of last night.

"I think your brother knows already. He's smarter than you think, just like how you're not as innocent as he thinks."

It was the first time that he smiled today, which gave you major flashbacks of last night's rendezvous.

"I was right about one thing last night, though. I'll never be able to forget those lips.”

[lgbt-that70sshow]

For the prompt game: Jackie discovering she's a lesbian.

Listen... I have fragile Zen heart so I am making this one of those girl!Hyde fics. I hope you don't mind.

~~~

Ever since Michael pointed it out to her, she'd been noticing it more. He'd said to her, "Jackie, I don't think you even like me. You spend more time looking at Donna and Steph than you do looking at me!"

She'd passed it off as just her having friends that were girls. Although, Steph wasn't a friend. She didn't seem to like Jackie much.

But Michael's words kept rattling around in her skull. And she started noticing things she'd never noticed before. Like how she couldn't help but look at Farrah Fawcett's breasts when Charlie's Angels was on, or how she admired the way Steph's denim bell bottoms hugged her hips. She always thought those things were simply her admiring fellow women.

But maybe... Maybe it was because she liked women.

She never did those things with men, like Donna and Steph did. She didn't understand Donna's obsession with Steven Tyler or the way Steph would close her eyes and smile a little while Robert Plant practically moaned during The Lemon Song. Although, Steph did something similar whenever Crazy On You by Heart played.

Jackie thought of Steph doing that because of something Jackie did. She liked that idea. A lot more than she wanted to admit.

But she wasn't a lesbian. Lesbians were girls that wore suits and had cats and enjoyed sports. That wasn't Jackie. Was it?

She'd have to do some thinking. And maybe some experimenting. She made up her mind to talk to Steph about it next time she saw her.

~

Steph felt like her brain was rotting, listening to Jackie. It was just the two of them in the basement, and Jackie was having a sexuality crisis, onset by Kelso. She took her sunglasses off and rubbed her eyes as Jackie said, "But I don't want to wear suits or have cats, so I don't think I'm a lesbian."

She looked at Jackie. "Not all lesbians are butch."

Jackie looked at her cluelessly. "What does that mean?"

"It means they're a little more masculine with how they dress and act. Kinda like me. But I'm bisexual, not a lesbian. And that means I like-"

"Men and women, yeah, I've seen the David Bowie interview."

"Yeah. All it takes to be a lesbian is liking women."

"Oh." Jackie stared at the wall behind the TV.

Steph put her sunglasses back on. "So, are you a lesbian or what?"

"I don't know. I think I might be. Like, I don't think I'm attracted to Michael at all. He's not... He doesn't have..."

"Boobs?" Steph filled in.

Jackie blushed. "Yeah."

Steph smirked. "Yeah."

[blazedbakugou]

words left unsaid

In which Bakugou finds himself struggling with coming to terms with the fact that he is, in fact, very much selfishly in love with you.

a/n: always wanted to write this concept but didn’t have the motivation until now so I hope you enjoy :)

read part two here!

genre: angst

warnings: angst, Bakugou kinda sucks, aged up characters

pairing(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (romantic?)

word count: 1.7k

prompt: “They’re kind to everyone, even me. I guess that was my weakness all along.”

like i want you - GIVĒON

Small explosions erupted in his clenched fists as he stared at you from across the room. Your legs crossed over one another, while you chatted away with Mina, a bright smile on your face as you laughed at something she said. Bakugou had been invited to the small gathering and wasn’t exactly planning on going until Kirishima had mentioned that you’d be there as well. Despite knowing you’d be attending, he still stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the apartment to observe the way you socialized with your friends, completely unaware of the fact that he’d been watching you.

“Damn, dumbass,” the angry blonde would mutter to himself before making his way into the kitchen.

It wasn’t that he hated you or anything. No, things would’ve been so much easier if that were the case. Bakugou wished that he could hate you, that he could shove you aside just like he’d done with so many others; but he couldn’t, not you. There was something about you that he despised just as much as he adored, and it was your purity. He was intrigued by the way you carried yourself, gracefully, and with dignity. A sudden heavy hand slapped onto his shoulder shook him out of his trance as he turned to glare at the redhead beside him.

“Hey there, Bakugou! Welcome to the party, I knew you’d show up,” Kirishima grinned.

Bakugou shrugged the hand off his shoulder before replying, “tch, I had nothing better to do. It’s not like I want to be here.”

Kirishima noticed his friend’s concentrated gaze and followed it until he realized what— or rather, who— Bakugou was staring at. “Ah, I see. You’re here to see them.”

“What?! Don’t be stupid, I couldn’t care less about that dumbass.” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms.

“Y’know, you’re a terrible liar. But don’t worry, Bakubro. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Whatever,” Bakugou walked towards the kitchen with Kirishima quickly following suit.

The kitchen was unoccupied, to the blonde’s relief. He leaned against the kitchen counter while he watched his best friend prepare two drinks. Music played from somewhere in the apartment, drowning out the sound of chatter amongst his friends who were scattered throughout the place. Bakugou stared down at his feet for a moment before Kirishima broke the silence.

“So uh, how long do you plan on keeping this up?” he frowned, handing over a cup of some alcoholic beverage that the blonde couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of.

“What are you talking about, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou grumbled, taking a sip of his drink.

The redhead rolled his eyes, “I’m talking about the fact that you’ve been in love with them for some time now and still haven’t even tried to make a move.”

“Oi! You can’t just-” Bakugou glanced around to check if anyone was eavesdropping before continuing in a quieter tone, “you can’t just say shit like that. Besides, you know why I haven’t gone after them.”

His mind brought him back a few years to the time he confided in Kirishima and revealed his true feelings that he felt for you. He explained the frustration and guilt he felt for catching feelings for someone like you. At the time, Bakugou swore he’d never let you find out about his love for you under the pretext that he was too rotten of a person to ever have a chance with you. Though Bakugou now thought more highly of himself, he still firmly believed that he’d never be good enough for you despite all of Kirishima’s constant assurances that he was more than good enough.

“Yeah, yeah. You don’t gotta tell me again, it’s because “you’re such a terrible person that it would be impossible for them to be interested in you” you’ve only told me about a thousand times,” the redhead rolled his eyes.

Though he was barely able to see your arm hanging behind the couch from his spot in the kitchen, Bakugou’s heart still swelled at the mere sight of you. “Shut up, dumbass! It’s not like I asked for this, it sort of just happened. I mean… they’re kind to everyone, even me. I guess that was my weakness along.”

Kirishima sighed before offering a sympathetic smile, “look, you already know what I’m going to say so I’ll just save you the trouble of having to listen to it again and let you be. Just know that I think that it’s not very manly of you to be hiding these feelings of yours. They won’t be waiting around forever, y’know.”

Just like that, Bakugou was left alone in the kitchen to deal with his thoughts.

- - -

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Bakugou mentally cursed as he tried his best not to lose control. Accidentally setting off an explosion was the last thing he wanted, especially with how close in proximity you were. Your arms loosely slung over his shoulders as you danced along to some stupid song that he was convinced one of his friends had played on purpose. His complaints and refusals had been ignored, despite how much he claimed to his friends that he didn’t want to dance with you. He’d occasionally send death stares to his best friend from across the room only to receive a dumb grin and a thumbs up in return. The blonde made a mental note to get revenge later on.

“Katsu?” your sweet voice vibrated against his chest, your head resting against it comfortably.

“Huh? What?” Bakugou blinked at you, making it apparent that he hadn’t been listening to what you were saying.

You leaned back to frown at him, “I was asking how you’ve been, haven’t heard from you in a while. How come you don’t answer my calls anymore?”

He felt a slight twinge in his chest at the sight of you frowning, “Oh, yeah well I guess I’ve been kinda busy lately. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Do you not like me anymore? I remember we used to be so close and then one day, it just stopped. Was it something I did?”

“Of course, I still like you, dumbass,” he muttered under his breath.

Your face lit up at his response, “you… like me?”

“N-not like that!” Bakugou tripped over his own feet just like he did over his words, a blush spreading across his face.

He swore that he usually wasn’t this clumsy, that he normally had amazing reflexes but he couldn’t bring himself to admit out loud how nervous you made him. He’d already lost track of the number of times he had to remove his hands from your hips to dry them off on his pants. The blonde was now acutely aware of his racing heart and could only hope that you didn’t call him out for it.

“Oh, well um… you still didn’t answer my other question.”

“Look, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… I can’t get into it right now,”

“If not now, then when?”

Bakugou chuckled inwardly at your choice of words, it was the same phrase that Kirishima had recited to him the night Bakugou opened up to him about his feelings. Several times he’d been told by his best friend that he was a fool for wasting so much time moping around when he could’ve been so much happier with you. Perhaps, the redhead had a point, but Bakugou was too stubborn to listen.

“I just can’t tell you,” he sighed, praying the song would end soon so he’d have an excuse to put as much distance between you two as possible.

“Why can’t you just tell me why you’ve been acting so strange around me? Am I not good enough for you? Is that it?”

He felt nothing but confusion at your statement. You? Not good enough for him? You had to be joking. Oh, how desperately Bakugou wanted to correct you and tell you just how perfect you were. He was aware that perfection was an unrealistic concept that didn’t exist, but if you had any flaws then he simply hadn’t discovered them yet. You were one of the kindest, purest people he’d ever met, and it upset him to hear that you saw yourself as anything less than that. Nonetheless, no matter how badly he was dying to speak these words aloud, he bit his tongue and swallowed them back down.

“Why are you asking so many questions? It’s none of your business!” his words stung like venom but it was too late to take them back. He already started the process, now he just had to finish it.

“None of my business? Well, maybe if I cared less then I’d be able to believe that bullshit!” you took a step back with a look of frustration.

It shocked him to hear you swear, in all his years of knowing you, not once had you ever cursed around him. Bakugou opened his mouth to say something back but decided against it knowing that it would only make things worse. So he opted for the second option that had crossed his mind which was to get out of there and fast. He turned his back to you as he made his way to the door, pausing only at the sound of your voice.

“Really? You’re just going to walk away? Y’know I really thought that you’d changed over the years but it looks like you’re still the same asshole from before.”

He winced at the emotion in your voice, the pain and disappointment that he’d caused. There was no point in turning back now, not with how everyone’s eyes were suddenly on him and especially not with the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes. His shaky hand grasped the door handle, reluctantly pulling on it. Ignoring his friends calling his name, Bakugou shut the door behind him, shutting himself out from you once again. He walked away from the apartment leaving not only his heart shattered at your feet but breaking yours along with it.

masterlist // taglist open // requests open

@combat-wombatus @sunflowersuki

[hippohead]

Okay, here goes for the prompts: number 4 on friends to lovers!

I hope you're doing well :)

thank you so much! sorry it took a little while also i’m feeling a little rusty but here’s a little something-something. 

4. “you deserve better. it doesn’t have to be me, but you deserve better.”

Blaine went through a superhero phase when they were seven years old.

Kurt went along with it because he liked the capes and he thought it was cute when Blaine lifted his fist into the air and pretended to fly. The only part of it that was tedious was The Question, every day:

“What would your superpower be?”

The first time he asked it, Kurt answered honestly: “I want to be like Matilda. Move things with my mind and stuff.”

Blaine nodded and then picked super speed for himself. He ran around his backyard in loops until even Kurt felt dizzy, and they decided to just be superheroes who lay on the grass for the rest of the evening.

But then he asked it the next day, and the next, and the one after that. Over and over for almost a year. He wasn’t allowed to say the same one twice. Kurt ran out of superpowers to want.  

When he finally moved on to his next obsession, Kurt was relieved, but right now he’d give anything for Blaine to ask him that question.

He’s not sure why Blaine would, though, considering it’s been over twenty years since the last time he did and they’re both wearing suits, not capes. But he’s got a new answer.

Time travel.

In fact, he’d do just about anything to flick a switch or drive a car past 88 or hop into a telephone box and end up thirty seconds earlier, before he said The Words.

The words. The ones that weren’t meant to come out. The one’s he’d vowed to keep stuck inside of his throat, even if it made it hard to breathe sometimes.

“You deserve better. It doesn’t have to be me, but you deserve better.”

Most of the sentence was fine and allowed. Most of it.

“What- what did you say?”

Shit. “I said you deserve better.”

God, he can see a million different things on Blaine’s face right now. He’s read those lines so many times; deciphered them, understood them, figured them out. He can still see all of the lingering pain about Tom not showing up, and the anger at himself for letting that be okay, and the tiredness of fighting for a relationship that neither person really wants. He can see the comfort that Kurt’s giving him, his best friend, in this tiny little restaurant cloak room, and the confusion, too.

“Look, I know you don’t like Tom-”

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. He should be here,” and it comes out like grit in Kurt’s teeth.

Blaine doesn’t say anything. If he did, he’d have to admit that this is actually pretty low on the list of Tom let-downs. There’s been worse - this one just looks bad.

“We should get back out there,” Kurt says, just to say something. The air is starting to feel too stuffy in here. He starts to leave, aware that Blaine’s parents and their mutual friends and a couple of Blaine’s coworkers are sitting at their table, probably wondering where on earth they’d disappeared to.

"Kurt?”

He stops halfway through the door, bracing himself - there’s no way Blaine would let Kurt just breeze over a slip-up like that. It’s not the first slip-up, either. There have been others in the past, from both of them. And it always goes the same way; the one who slipped up deflects and ignores, and the one who heard the slip-up pushes a little bit, desperate to see if the other will be brave this time.

Neither of them are ever brave.  

“Yeah?” he says, resigned to the inevitable.

There’s plead in Blaine’s eyes – so much so that it makes Kurt kind of want to be brave this time, even though Blaine hasn’t questioned him yet. He’s gotten stuck, just sort of halted and trying to find the words.  

And then the soft sound of a Billy Joel song starts to play from Blaine’s pocket – his ringtone.  

Blaine holds his gaze for a second and then checks his phone, sighing, with a little puff of exasperation once he registers who’s calling. “It’s Tom.”

Kurt nods, drained of any bravery, and heads back to the table.  

- - - - -

Kurt drops Blaine home after the dinner because even after the phone call, Tom still didn’t turn up.

It’s a quiet ride. Blaine had managed to do what Blaine does best which is to put on a cheerful face and convince a room full of loved ones that he’s fine, but he doesn’t have to do that in this car. Not in Kurt’s presence.  

There’s a free spot right by Blaine’s apartment building so he pulls into it and turns the car off. It’s even more quiet now; the hum of the engine had been giving them some kind of music and it’s confronting now that it’s gone. He waits. Blaine seems settled in his seat. He’s staring at the sidewalk, curved in on himself but grounded, grounded to the space next to Kurt.  

“Are you okay?”

Blaine’s shoulders lift, “I’ve had better birthdays.”

Kurt thinks that’s all he’s going to say but then he keeps going, his tone lightening a little bit.

“Do you remember that time you paid for all of the Warblers to fly into the city to surprise me?”

Kurt laughs, melodic and sweet at the memory, “I overshot my budget a lot that year.”

“I couldn’t understand why you wanted to go to the top of the Empire State so badly on my birthday,” Blaine laughs too.  

“God, it was so stressful. Rachel was helping me co-ordinate it all but there was no service in the subway, and I had no idea if they were all in position and ready, and you were being... difficult, to say the least.”

“I wanted to go to Benny’s.”

That makes Kurt smile. It had been for Blaine’s twenty-first birthday. It was a big deal. And all Blaine wanted to do was get a milkshake from their favourite diner. Maybe share a plate of fries. Nothing big or fancy – just dinner in a place they discovered together. “If I remember correctly, I took you to Benny’s afterwards.”

“You did,” Blaine confirms. And then, with an odd mixture of wist and sadness, “I can’t believe you did all of that for me.”

“Is this your way of telling me you hate the watch?” and it’s an attempt to lighten the mood back up. He reaches for Blaine’s wrist and picks it up, admiring the new silver and ignoring the way it makes him feel to have Blaine’s skin under his palm.  

“I love the watch.”

They catch each other’s eyes and oh, here it is. He almost got away with it.  

“What did you mean tonight?”

Kurt drops his wrist.  

“When you said it didn’t have to be you, but I deserved better?”

He looks straight ahead, the heat from Blaine’s stare burning into his cheek. He doesn’t know how to tell this lie again.  

“Kurt?”

“Do you want me to be brave?” he asks, almost wanting permission to be.

Blaine nods, resolute. “I want you to be honest.”

Okay. There’s the permission. And he keeps it simple. “It doesn’t have to be me, but I want it to be.”

Blaine nods again, barely surprised. “Why didn’t you tell me this when we were seven?”

“Seven-year-olds aren’t in love yet.”

“We were.”  

And maybe they were, or maybe they fell into it somewhere along the way, but one thing is for sure.  

They definitely are now.  

Blaine looks like he wants to kiss Kurt but doesn’t, mumbles a little incoherently about needing to sort some things out first which they both know means breaking up with his useless boyfriend, and then he squeezes Kurt’s hand.  

Just as Blaine’s reaching for the door handle, Kurt can’t help but ask him something.  

“Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“What would your superpower be?”

Blaine looks a little confused, and then the context of his old obsession sinks in and his eyes crinkle as he laughs. And once his laughter settles, he thinks about it. “Time travel.”

He means: I wish I could go back to that day in Eighth Grade when we came out to each other and explain that you were the reason I knew, or, I wish I could go back to that party we went to when we were 17 and instead of getting horrendously drunk, kiss you instead, or, I wish I could go back to that night at your first apartment in New York when we argued and hold your hand instead. And Kurt knows that’s what he means.  

“What about you?”

Kurt sets him with a look that is love, and adoration, and hope, and says, “I’m gonna go back to my original answer.”

“The Matilda thing?”

And he remembers. Of course he remembers. 

“Yeah. The Matilda thing.”

[inevitably-johnlocked]

STEPH I ACCIDENTLY REWATCHED TSOT AND NOW I'M FUCKING SOBBING. I JUST HAVEN'T WATCHED THE ACTUAL SHOW IN FOREVER AND FORGOT HOW SAD SHERLOCK LOOKS IN THIS EPISODE. GOD. so yeah i just wanted some fics where john & sherlock dance together, whether it be at a/their wedding, "for a case", some kind of ball, or my favorite- sherlock teaching john to dance. it's maybe one of my favorite situations/tropes in media. (also welcome back!! and i love you <3)

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH I’ve been putting a “dancing” list together before I even had a system in place to do my lists, so I’m going to use your ask as an excuse to finally post it because I can’t find the original ask, LOL LOL!!!

And to pad out the list, I’m adding any that I’ve tagged from my MFL List, so I hope you enjoy that, LOL.

As usual, add your own, friends!! Hope you enjoy!!!

DANCING

You Lead, I Lead, You Follow, I Follow by BrighteyedJill (M, 862 w., 1 Ch. || Fever, H/C, John Whump) – John wakes up after a chase gone wrong to find Sherlock watching over him, but he’s a little hazy on the details.

Velvet by headlessjess (G, 1,155 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Angst, Jealous Sherlock, Loneliness, Sad Fic) – It's the day, the wedding day - John and Mary, getting married. And then there's Sherlock, in pain and in love, without knowing how to deal with it.

Your love it feels so good by Hotaru_Tomoe (E, 2,843 w., 1 Ch. || Gay Club / Gay Bar, Lingerie, Stripping, Anal) – Sherlock is last at a quiz night and is forced by Anderson to perform in a gay stripclub. John must be with him, because he will have to record the performance. Sherlock takes the task very seriously. Part 20 of The English job

Behind Closed Curtains by twisting_vine_x (G, 2,939 w., 1 Ch. || Dancing, Angst, Pre-Slash) – Set loosely during season two, when Sherlock and John are still, ahem, dancing around each other. Sherlock teaches John how to dance.

Unimpressed by 221b_hound (M, 3,106 w., 1 Ch. || New Year’s Eve, Dancing, Jealousy) – Sherlock has no intention of attending the Met's New Year's Eve party. The start of a new year is all but meaningless to him. But he ends up there anyway, having odd conversations, and John does not find Sherlock's jealousy the slightest bit cute. And then there is dancing. Part 10 of Unkissed

Every Step of the Way by Shi_Toyu (G, 3,795 w., 1 Ch. || Car Accident, John Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Pre-Slash) – When John is injured on a case, Sherlock can't forgive himself. Everyone expects him to give up on his flatmate and get bored, but he'll prove them all wrong by sticking with him...every step of the way.

No Good Without You by textsandscones (T, 4,021 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, Sherlock’s Violin, Dancing, Soppy Fluff) – A diverting new case surrounding musicians and stolen instruments captures Sherlock's attention, the consequences of which lead both detective and doctor to see one another in a different light. Part 1 of Prompt Fills

Living Musical by VeeTheRee (G, 4,149 w. 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Hobbies, Summer, Song Fic, POV Sherlock, Painting, Play Fighting, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Love Declarations, Hair Petting, Promise of Forever) – A one-shot of John and Sherlock being domestic during summer. There is paint, fluff, and music from Imagine Dragons, namely from the album 'Speak To Me', specific song in this one-shot is 'Living Musical'. Part 1 of the Happy Fluffy Johnlock Time series

But Tonight You Belong to Me by esplanade (T, 4,296 w., 1 Ch. || Fluff & Angst, Pining, Stag Night, Sad Ending) – “You. It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right.”

The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna

Sway by CrackedMetal (K+, 4,602 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Drama, Dancing, Mary is Nice, Canon Divergence, Song Fic) – Sherlock doesn't leave the reception and Mary wants the best friends to have a moment to talk… So she suggests a dance. Johnlock with a side of John/Mary.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

a very soft epilogue (my love) by darcylindbergh (E, 5,395 w., 3 Ch. || Retirement, Domestic Fluff, Dancing, Dogs, Grumpy Old Men) – Across the pillows, Sherlock shifts and hums, the creases of his face deepening and then smoothing before settling. John watches him wake up, his chest swelling with affection and fondness, and thinks he’ll never get tired of Sherlock in the mornings, sleepy and soft. It’s been some forty-odd years, and John hasn’t gotten tired of it yet. Part 5 of things fairy tales are made of

Second Waltz by Atiki (T, 6,685 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Angst, Fluff, Cancer) – "The night I died, you wished I could wait for you."

What I Hide By My Language, My Body Utters by PixChuu22 (M, 9,047 w., 1 Ch. || Fake Relationship, For a Case, Friends to Lovers) - Based on a prompt from Tumblr user thetwogaydetectives - “fake relationship that ends up being so real, they finally realize they are in love.”

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining Sherlock, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

the first day of forever by darcylindbergh (E, 11,850 w., 8 Ch. || Est. Relationship, Domestics, Light Angst, Insecurity, Emotional H/C) – “I’m going to marry you,” John murmurs with against Sherlock’s smile, and they both giggle in the joy of it. “We’re getting married.” “Yes,” Sherlock says, just to hear himself say it out loud. “We are.” A June wedding. Part 4 of things fairy tales are made of

All the Girls Love a Soldier by Book7BrokeMyBrain (E, 12,951 w., 1 Ch. || Military Kink, Frottage, Domesticity, Post S3, Pining Sherlock, Kilt John, Wedding, Dancing) – John is invited to a stag party and a wedding. The related accoutrement suit Sherlock to a T.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w., 5 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt's Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John's family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

a good old-fashioned happy ending by darcylindbergh (E, 32,731 w., 26 Ch. || Christmas, Frottage, Comfort, Est. Rel., Fluff, Insecure Sherlock, Frottage, Nightmares, Sleepy Sherlock, Marriage Proposal, Humour, Fluff, Dancing, Cooking, Happy Ending) – For Christmas this year, Sherlock wants to get John something special: something every fairytale deserves. Part 2 of things fairy tales are made of

we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 36,420 w., 7 Ch. || A Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Prince Sherlock, Soldier John, Alternating POV, First Kiss, Bittersweet Ending, Homophobia, Dancing) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.

Guilty Secrets by Ellipsical (E, 55,086 w., 16 Ch. || Drumsticks, First Kiss/Time, Love Confession, Self-Sexual-Discovery, Anal, Rimming, Orgasim Denial, Butt Plugs, Cooking, Furniture Sex, Bath Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Anal Beads, Dancing, Romance, Tantric Edging) – John has a prostate exam and discovers something surprising about himself. Experimentation follows. Sherlock wants to help. They're in love. You know the drill.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock POV, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Shatter the Darkness (Let the Light In) by MojoFlower (E, 109,683 w., 23 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Genie/Djinn AU || Magical Realism, Kidnapping, Genie Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Case Fic, H/C, Angst, Clubs, John Whump, Mild DubCon, Hand / Blow Jobs, Torture) – Fairy tales are for those who remember how to dream; not John Watson, broken and hiding from his bleak future in a beige bedsit. But then he discovers a lamp and finds himself in the dangerous riptide of an enigmatic man whose very existence is unbelievable, murder charges against his sister, and the growing pains of feeling alive once more.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

MARKED FOR LATER

He really can’t breathe. by Luna_sharp618 (NR, 696 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Dancing, Sherlock Teaching John to Dance, TSo3 Fic) – In which Sherlock teaches John how to dip his dance partner for the wedding and has some pining thoughts.

The Gay Bar Scene that never was by MadSophHatter (T, 1,372 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Gay Bar Scene, Confused Sherlock, Jealous John, Humour) – The gay bar scene from The Sign of Three as I envisioned it. Featuring a confused Sherlock, halfnaked men, sexy dancing and John who is absolutely not jealous.

Tango by standbygo (M, 1,424 w., 1 Ch. || Different First Meeting, Dancing) – “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Shut up and dance – a man’s alibi depends on it.”

Operation Synchronous by Daziechane (NR, 1,691 w., 1 Ch. || Dancer Sherlock, Lip Synch Battle, Abuse Of Umbrellas, Bets) – Sherlock never welches on a bet. That doesn't mean he'll give in easily, however.

on his mouth like liquor by chrysanthemumsies (T, 1,780 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3, Stag Night, Gay Bar, Romance, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff) – The gay bar scene from Stag night that the creators didn't want to show! Pure crack with a bit of angst and a whole lotta fluff (if you squint). Sherlock and John on the dance floor - what's not to love?

Take me to Baker Street by MorganeUK (G, 2,087 w., 1 Ch. || Adult Ballet AU || Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Doctor John, Song Fic, Pre-Slash) – I always loved Sergei Polunin interpretation of Take me to the church so I decided to write a version where Sherlock is a ballet dancer in serious need of a doctor…

May I Have This Dance? by ScaryFairy13 (G, 2,297 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Dancing, Fluff, First Kiss, Wedding) – John drags Sherlock to Greg's and Molly's wedding. Dancing ensues as well as the discovery of certain sentimental feelings.

Under the Lights by CarmillaCarmine (E, 2,872 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Fix It, Stag Night, Gay Club, First Time, Dancing) – Following Sherlock’s map marked with all the streets where they had found a corpse, John and Sherlock stumbled into a gay club. Part 1 of TSoT Fix-It

Dirty by standbygo (E, 5,093 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, PWP, Dirty Dancing, Romance, Smut and Fluff) – “Yeah, I actually learned how to dance like that, like in the film. I was quite the hit at parties while the craze lasted. Some of Harry’s friends called me Johnny Castle, after the character. Or Swayze.” “Swayze? What kind of word is that?” John did not reply, but gazed at Sherlock, his lips pressed together but still smiling. After a moment, he stood and held out his hand to Sherlock. “Dance with me,” John said.

The Posh Purple Pirate (Enter My Life and Make Me Drown) by  Loveismyrevolution (E, 7,408 w., 1 Ch. || Exotic Dancer AU || Alternate First Meeting, Strangers to Lovers, For a Case, Lap Dancing, Hand Job, First Kiss, Pirate Sherlock, Drama Queen Sherlock, Dancer Sherlock) – When Mike Stamford invited him to a fun night out, John Watson never expected it would become such a wild ride - captivated by an enigmatic pirate his life suddenly gains speed in an unexpected direction. Part 1 of PirateDragQueenVerse

Life's Uneven Kilter by theslovenlyfool (T, 14,877 w., 4 Ch. || Canon Divergence S3, BAMF John, Secretly Married, Camp Gay Sherlock, Dancing, John is a Good Actor, Fake Relationship, Mycroft Plays a Role) – "According to Sherlock, the game began on September 21, 2005 at precisely 10:37:04 am. John complained that, with that logic, the game had actually begun on January 7, 2000, at around 1:30 am. But for Sherlock, games are only fun when others are willing to play. What is a game without an adversary, after all? And what is a proper dash across London without a partner? Now, Sherlock thought as he assessed the doctor with the unforgivable cane, the game is on."

Thirteen Dances (Or, The Doctor Dances) by Knackorcraft (E, 17,544 w., 13 Ch. || Dirty Dancing, Tango, Ballet, Frottage) – John is a great dancer: we're talking all types. Not only is he able to pop and lock it, he's got some great ballet technique. He was best at lifting / holding girls.

The One Where Sherlock Doesn’t Ruin John’s Holiday by nutmeag83 (T, 18,898 w., 11 Ch. || Pre-TRF / S2 Timeline, Friends to Lovers, Cruise Ships, Vacation / Holidays, Fake Relationship, For Science, Bed Sharing, Cuddling/Snuggling, Mutual Pining, John POV, Minor Case Fic, Cooking, Dancing, Drunk Shenanigans) – John wins a cruise vacation for two and brings Sherlock along. But when it turns out to be a couples cruise, they have to pretend to be a couple themselves (for science). How many pretend kisses will it take before they can’t deny their feelings any longer?

Lockdown by johnwatso and Salambo06 (E, 23,376 w., 20 Ch. || Quarantine, COVID-19, Lockdown, Fluff, Parentlock, Reunion, Dancing, Soft Idiots, Sex Toys) – The world is in lockdown due to Covid-19. This is how Sherlock and John spend their time.

Dance With Me by Silvergirl (E, 24,813 w., 12 Ch. || Post TEH, Dancing, Met Charity Gala, Sally/Sherlock Friendship, No Mary, Fluff) – Sherlock rescues Sally Donovan, and in turn she tries to help him get John to stop faffing about and get on with Johnlock.

Mountebank by Odamaki (M, 26,514 w., 2 Ch. || Fake Relationship/Dating/Marriage, For A Case, Jealous John, Suits, House Party, Crack, Trapped, UST, Dancing, Idiots in Love, Confessions, Friends to Lovers) – “I am calm,” John snaps, leaning on the door to glare out at the dark streets around them. Sherlock’s not said where they’re going; all he knows is they came off the ring road to the west of London and have vanished somewhere into the depths of Berkshire. All he knows is that he’s been trussed up in a suit that wasn’t hired from anywhere and if brought new would edge up into the triple figure margins. “Be calmer,” Sherlock advises, with a trace of irony. “We’re going to a party.” Part 29 of the The Sherlexicon

Time Of My Life by fiveainley_ohmy (E, 29,719 w., 8 Ch. || Dirty Dancing Fusion || Bisexual John, Dancing, Gay/Demi Sherlock) – John Watson takes his alcoholic sister to a summer camp in attempt to rehabilitate her. He didn't expect to fall in love with the dance instructor.

Brooklyn Heat, Summer Jazz by Zigster (E, 41,820 w., 10 Ch. || New York Ballet AU || Jazz Pianist John, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Modern Setting, Brooding Sherlock , Confused John, Non-Linear Storytelling, Sexual Tension, Angst, Alcohol / Pot / Club Drug Use, First Time, Not-Good Mycroft, Happy Ending) – "There was, however, one thing that made it easier to stay on his piano bench every day. One thing that kept John Watson showing up to class on time, every morning at ten with a large thermos of honeyed tea and a conviction to see a job well done. His name was Sherlock Holmes and he was the most confounding and extraordinary thing John had ever come across - the most exotic of birds and the most unattainable of men."

Blond Barista Seeks Dashing Ballet Dancer: Inquire Within by prettysailorsoldier (E, 43,847 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock Coffee Shop AU || Rugby/Barista John, Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Fluff) – Between classes, his job at a local cafe, and being captain of the rugby team, John Watson's life is plenty stressful enough without the addition of a mysterious ballet dancer he can see through the windows of the dance studio across the street, but, somehow, he can't bring himself to mind.

My Pictures of You by 72reasons (E, 50,527 w., 19 Ch. || Fashion AU || Model Sherlock / Photographer John, Bisexual John, Gay Sherlock, Past Viclock, Past Warstan, Cocaine / Drug Use, Mary is Not Nice, Angst, Pining, Case Fic, Kidnapping, Human Trafficking, Past Jolto, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Frottage, Oral / Anal, Fingering, Dancing, Non-Con Drug Use, Rimming) – John Watson, a photographer, gets an assignment to shoot gorgeous, young fashion model, Sherlock Holmes. He feels an instant connection, but Sherlock uses drugs and has an old friend who's just landed himself in a lot of trouble. When Sherlock comes to John for help, he reluctantly agrees. Angst, past loves, and insecurities threaten to end their budding romance, but ultimately love and trust wins out.

Focal Point by PuffleLock (E, 60,913 w., 13 Ch. || Post-TRF Divergence / Different Reunion, POV John, Slow Burn, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Sad Wank, Sherlock in Makeup, Dancing, Mentions of Torture / Depression / PTSD, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Scars, Rimming, Anal, Toplock, First Kiss / Time, Gay Sherlock / Bi John) – John comes home early from a medical conference to find that every once in awhile, Sherlock can surprise the hell out of him. Can John surprise him back?

A Moment's Surrender by anchors (M, 64,272 w., 10 Ch. || Dancer AU || Ballet Sherlock, Swing Dancer John, Angsty Fluff, Romance, Swing Dancing) – Sherlock tours worldwide with the English National Ballet. John dances the Lindy Hop competitively all across the globe. That they would meet, then, by the slimmest of chances in one lonely city, is pure coincidence. The whole 'dancing together' bit is a little more planned.

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

A Case of Identity – The Musical by shamelessmash (E, 83,147 w., 15 Ch. || 1950′s Hollywood AU || Musical, Case Fic, Undercover as an Actor, Dancing, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Writer/Director John, Slow Burn / Romance) – A mysterious death on set causes chaos in Stamford productions latest movie. With the premiere date left unchanged, they must find a new lead actor and reshoot an entire movie in two months. Sherlock Holmes goes undercover as a lead actor in a Musical: a juggling act to solve a murder while singing, dancing and charming his way through 1950s Hollywood. The last thing he expected was to fall in love with the screenwriter along the way. Or as I like to call it: the case where Sherlock finally gets to dance. Based off this prompt.

Rewind by All_I_need (E, 87,593 w. || Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pining, Angst, Sharing a Bed, Dancing Lessons, Oblivious John) – About a month before John's wedding, he and Sherlock embark on one last case together: a murder at a remote hotel in the middle of nowhere. A lot can happen in a week. And a lot doesn't. But what if ...?

Rosethorne by suitesamba (M, 98,888 w., 28 Ch. || Secret Garden AU || Injured Sherlock / John, Recovery, First Times, Minor Character Death, Disability, Past Domestic Abuse [Mary/OMC]) – John Watson, WWII army doctor, is injured in the line of duty and can no longer wield a scalpel. Sherlock Holmes, Britain’s best code-breaker, is side-lined by his own devastating injury. In a work inspired by Frances Hodgson Burnett’s “The Secret Garden,” the two men must find meaning and purpose in a world which seems to have taken away all they hold most dear. But of course, it really hasn’t.

October to Hogmanay by snorklepie (E, 127,318 w., 25 Ch. || Post HLV Fix-It, Awkward First Times, Hurt/Comfort, Sherlock is a Mess, Shameless Smut, Sherlock’s Past, Scotland, Poison, Holmes Family, Kilts, Dancing, Angst) – John stared at Sherlock’s profile against the cab window and exhaled slowly. After a long moment, he reached out and touched Sherlock’s long fingers where they were fiddling with the button on his coat. The tall man didn’t look around again, but his fingers slowly unfurled before curling deliberately around John’s hand. Part 2 of Scotland

Shatter Me by Loveismyrevolution (E, 162,856+ w., 20/24 Ch. || WiP || Sherlock Dances, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Introspection, Mutual Pining, UST, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Implied Drug Use, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions) – This is a story about two men trying to find their way back into the comfort of their companionship. No easy task in the aftermath of the events of Reichenbach, a wedding and a shot through the heart. They are facing a very rocky road ahead with a lot of introspection, misunderstandings, angst and pining. They each try to cope in their own particular way. Eventually, they'll find a way to communicate and learn about the true nature of their feelings.

[coccinelle-et-chaton]

Cookie Gifts

based on this prompt 

You could always tell when Marinette Dupain-Cheng liked you. She wasn't the type to tell it to you straight to your face, but if Marinette considered you a friend, it was obvious. She'd compliment your outfit, or help you out with an assignment you didn't understand, she'd encourage you to pursue your passions, she'd cheer for you when you did, she'd stand up for you and show you how to do it for yourself, and most of all, she would always find little gifts to give you. Almost always crafted by her own hands. 

Take Alya, for example, who had multiple friendship bracelets, jewelry, drawings, mittens, and all kinds of cute little trinkets Marinette always found the time to confection for her. Or Nino, whom she customized a cap for and always brought him freshly baked pain au chocolat, knowing that those were his favorite. Or to an extent, even Adrien, who cherished the lucky charm she had gifted him and perhaps was the most aware of Marinette's adorable tendency to create things for her friends, even though he had received the least amount of gifts. As Adrien, that is. Chat Noir was a different story. 

Chat Noir had developed the questionable habit of paying Marinette a few visits here and there when it was his turn to patrol alone. He knew Ladybug would probably scold him for interacting with civilians like this, but in his defense, it was almost as if Marinette was trying to lure him into visiting him. 

Ever since that first time he visited her, craving some company to lighten his broken heart, he had developed a certain curiosity. At least that's what he liked to call it. Plagg wouldn't agree. 

Much in the way as in that first time, the second time he dropped by, he did not find Marinette sadly looking at the sky but he did manage to startle her nonetheless. He had found her watering her plants and after a quick, blushing exchange, Marinette pulled his tail before he took off, snipped a blooming red tulip, and stuck her hand out to him. 

"For you," she said, a rosy blush lightly pigmenting her cheeks. 

Chat, unable to help his own flustered reaction at such a sweet gesture, gingerly took the flower, gave her a shy smile, and fled. 

The next time this happened, she told him to wait and quickly disappeared into her house resurfacing a few minutes later with a cellophane bag full of tiny pistachio-green macaroons. The third time, she had knitted mittens for him. The fourth, she had given him a "lucky charm" made of green and black beads, teasing him that it ought to repel all the bad luck he had, being a black cat and all. 

"I didn't know the princess liked to pun," Chat said, trying to sound suave but being altogether too flustered and endeared to do it with any success. 

And so this was how Chat Noir--Adrien-- began his proud collection of Marinette's little presents. He had to admit there was a certain satisfaction to knowing he would probably pass Alya soon if he kept visiting Marinette as much as he did. He was especially proud of the fact he didn't have one but two lucky charms. How many do you have, Alya? That's what I thought, he'd always think happily to himself when he admired his pair of lucky charms side by side.

But then something curious started happening, something that worried Chat. 

Ladybug started doing the same. 

She didn't knit fluffy gloves or brought him garden flowers, but she took to the habit of bringing him pastries when they patrolled together. Chat Noir thought to himself one of two things was happening here: Either Ladybug was trying to pull a Pavlov conditioning on him, or she had found out about his visits with Marinette and was somehow jealous of her. 

It didn't matter how many times he thanked her and reassured her she didn't need to feed him every time she saw him, Ladybug would always shrug and say, "Just a little treat, for being such a great partner." 

He supposed he was paying for the rose-giving karma of his past in tasty carbohydrates. To her benefit, though, if Ladybug brought him gifts to get his attention the way Marinette had captured it, she never showed her disappointment at his thankful, yet carefully demure reactions. It was more than what could be said of his disappointment at how terrible he was at getting Marinette's attention in his civilian persona. 

Marinette, while being everyone's darling, had always seemed on edge when she talked to him. He had never brought himself to find an explanation, much less when one day, unprompted, Marinette stopped acting so nervous around him. Suddenly she was just as confident, and sassy, and playful as with the rest of her friends. And while Adrien was absolutely thrilled about this, it also meant that he had stopped receiving that extra Marinette attention he had seemed to take for granted until then. 

"I'll bring cookies for everyone tomorrow," she told Alya one indistinct day as the school day was coming to a close. 

"Ohh, what flavor? You know I love those soft ones, right? The ones with the chocolate chips?"

Marinette laughed. "I'll make sure to make a batch of those, but I was thinking more about doing frosted ones."

"You're bringing cookies tomorrow?" Nino said, excited and turning around his seat to face the girls. Adrien seized the opportunity to do the same. 

"Yup. Anything in particular you want?"

"Not really," said Nino. "All the stuff you bring from the bakery is literally the best."

"You're so thoughtful, Marinette," Adrien said, trying his best to hide his blush as he spoke. "But isn't it a lot of work?"

"Not really," Marinette said with a friendly smile. "I'm very used to making them, I help my parents all the time."

"Oh, yeah, heh... Forgot about that," he replied, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "I've never made cookies so I have no idea what it's like."

"Really? Never?" 

Adrien shook his head. 

Marinette tapped her lips with her index finger. "I suppose... if you want to learn you could help me out. If you have time, that is."

"Yes!" Adrien said immediately, not even bothering to check whether he had anything booked for the afternoon. Either way, unless it was a photo shoot, he was more than willing to ditch his activities in favor of spending the afternoon with Marinette. 

Once at the bakery, wearing an apron and all, Marinette carefully prepared the dough for the first batch of cookies, showing Adrien the proportions he needed to use to prepare the second batch. Thankfully she was a patient teacher and was able to help him even when he messed up his first attempt. Once he got the hang of it, they developed a system where Marinette prepared the dough, Adrien molded it and cut it into shape in the trays, and Marinette put them in the oven. 

He discovered Marinette was not necessarily the chatterbox she usually was when her hands were busy. Instead, she slipped into a concentrated silence, with her tongue slightly poking out the right corner of her mouth and occasionally humming to the songs she played on her phone. 

Adrien had to take monumental efforts not to be distracted by how adorable she looked. 

When they moved to the process of frosting the cookies, he distinctly noticed how she prevented him from putting a particular batch with the rest of them. Even more intriguing, while Adrien was busy decorating, Marinette took particular attention to the batch she had separated. 

"Those look nicer," Adrien pointed out, interrupting Marinette's concentration, and noticing with a bit of envy how she had masterfully decorated her batch with tiny frosting cats.

"They're for a friend," she explained but added nothing more as she went back to work. 

Oh, what Adrien would have given to know who those cookies were for! His heart skipped a bit after indulging in a selfish, yet delightful thought. Maybe they're for Chat Noir! He thought excitedly, making a point of visiting her that night. Imagine his surprise, however, when his time for patrolling came around and found Marinette was already asleep when he passed by her balcony. 

Feeling a bit defeated and even more curious than before, he resigned to complete his route and vault back home. 

Maybe the cookies were for someone else? Someone at school? No, they were not, he realized feeling more relieved than he wanted to admit the next morning when Marinette came into school carrying the box of cookies. He inconspicuously snuck a glance at the box to see if he could spot them, or if Marinette carried a second, smaller box, but his enterprise was fruitless.

He eventually shook away the thought, berating himself for wanting to intrude in Marinette's privacy and forcing himself to let go of the subject, as tempting as it was to keep imagining who those damn cookies were for. 

The topic had all but vanished by the time he met Ladybug for patrol when the silly cookies made it to the front of his attention again. 

Wrapped in the usual cellophane bag, Ladybug beamed at him and stuck out her hand. "For you," she said, offering him the cat-themed cookies. 

Chat Noir took them feeling how his heart demanded to be let out of his chest if only to proclaim how impossibly happy he was. 

"Thank you, my lady," he said, using the nickname he had been careful not to call her anymore, aware of the fact his face was possibly blushing redder than Ladybug's suit. 

[ibijau]

A Little Help pt3 / On AO3

A third secret meeting between Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen

Nie Huaisang barely made it out of the Unclean Realm this time. In truth, he would have preferred not to leave at all. Distance hadn’t been such an obstacle thus far after all. Lan Xichen, after some hesitation, had agreed to send the score for Cleansing to Nie Huaisang, along with detailed written instruction on how to play it.

Nie Huaisang had taken it as another proof that Lan Xichen could be impossibly naive for a man this clever. It would have been so easy to sell the score of that song to interested party. Certainly, Su Minshan would have paid a real fortune to get his hands on that. Not that Nie Huaisang would ever have traded with someone as slimy as Su She, but he could have, and Lan Xichen shouldn’t have trusted him so easily.

Then again, they’d had no other choice. Nie Mingjue had barely accepted the excuse his brother had given for leaving without permission last time, and Nie Huaisang hadn’t been sure he could have gotten away with it again. He had hated admitting that to Lan Xichen, but Lan Xichen had been very kind in his reply, reminding him that this was only the result of a deep imbalance, that Nie Mingjue loved him and trusted him. And Lan Xichen was right of course, but lately it was a little too easy to forget that.

Lately, Nie Huaisang had become scared of his brother, the way he’d once become scared of their father.

For the past two months, Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen had only communicated through letters and hidden messages, taking ever increasing precautions not to be discovered. Nie Mingjue would have had a fit if he’d learned his brother was conspiring against him, and Lan Xichen remained worried his brother would be harmed if he was discovered to have gone against the Lans’ council of elders. But there was only so far their plan could go without meeting in person again, and Nie Huaisang was forced to eventually agree to meet again, at that same spot as before.

As before, Lan Xichen was waiting for him, wearing a robe of blue so dark it almost looked black. The colour suited him well, better in fact than the usual white of his sect which washed him out. Not that Nie Huaisang had time to spare on such frivolities, not this time.

After the briefest of greetings, Lan Xichen asked to hear the progress he’d made regarding Cleansing, and Nie Huaisang was only too happy to oblige. Time, more than on their previous meetings, was of the essence.

Nervous as he was, Nie Huaisang did his best to play the song appropriately. He paid attention to each note, infusing them with what little spiritual energy he could offer at every key moment, making sure to play at exactly the right speed. It was strenuous work to play that song, but the thought of his brother’s health had pushed him to put more effort into this than he ever had in anything. 

By the time he finished playing the song, Nie Huaisang felt a little weak, and his head was spinning. Thankfully Lan Xichen was sitting right next to him, and Nie Huaisang was able to lean against his side to rest a moment.

“You did very well,” Lan Xichen said, briefly wrapping one arm around Nie Huaisang’s shoulders before quickly removing it, afraid perhaps to act improperly, even when there was no one to see them. “I think you only need a little more practice and you’ll be ready to play it.”

“How soon?” Nie Huaisang asked, pulling away from the other man. “A week? Two? I’ll practice until my fingers bleed, and you can fight off your elders, and…”

Lan Xichen frowned. “Huaisang, it’s not that simple.”

“But I don’t know if I have more time. We need to act soon!” Nie Huaisang urged, grasping Lan Xichen’s hand. “Da-ge is… he’s been like this too long, and he’s really not getting better on his own. I think he’s even getting worse.”

It had been Lan Xichen’s theory that without the corrupted song played to him so regularly, Nie Mingjue might start recovering on his own, without the need for more Lan songs. Nie Huaisang had thought that was more likely than himself ever mastering a complex piece of magic in a matter of mere weeks.

Hope was a bitch.

“I’ve heard he’s become… quite aggressive toward small sects that are taking the Jins’ side,” Lan Xichen cautiously said.

Nie Huaisang miserably nodded, prompting Lan Xichen to gently squeeze his hand.

It had always been Nie Mingjue’s problem that he saw things in black and white, good or bad. That mentality used to be balanced out by his conviction that most people were honest, with only a few bad apples here and there.

Nie Mingjue didn’t believe that anymore.

“You have to do something,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have to make a statement, to let everyone know that da-ge isn’t crazy, that the Jins really did attack him! Otherwise he’ll just end up all alone, like…”

“Like the Wens?”

“More like Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang whispered. He felt Lan Xichen shudder at his side, but refused to look at the other man and glared instead of the guqin before them. “Er-ge, you have to do something, you have to help, you have to!”

“They still have Wangji,” Lan Xichen replied. “I don’t dare… It would be so easy for the council to order his death. Not only that, but they could make the whole world applaud. Just one sentence from them, and even your brother would rejoice at Wangji’s execution. You as well, perhaps.”

"What could he have done to…" 

"I trust you with almost anything, Huaisang,” Lan Xichen quietly said, taking both of the other man’s hands in his, his expression painfully earnest. “But this is not something I can tell you. Even telling you that Wangji's actions put such a threat on his life is too much, but it was the only way to show you I’m not… indifferent to the situation. I just don’t have a choice. You seek to save your brother, and I have to protect mine.”

A fair point, and yet Nie Huaisang grimaced. He simply couldn’t imagine what Lan Wangji, always a stickler for rules, could have done to deserve death. But with Lan Xichen holding his hands like that, it was impossible to ignore the wild beatings of his heart, as if he were truly terrified on his brother’s behalf. If Lan Xichen said that Lan Wangji was in such danger, it had to be true.

“What if… what if you sent him somewhere safe?” Nie Huaisang suggested. “I don’t know the situation, but if he just left, maybe…”

Lan Xichen’s hold on his hands tightened.

“Wangji is not currently in a state of health where it would be wise for him to wander the world or hide in wilderness,” Lan Xichen explained. “Not to mention…”

He hesitated, staring at Nie Huaisang as if searching for something on his face. “It is not just about Wangji,” Lan Xichen confessed. “He’s declared himself the protector of a young orphan he found somewhere. The council of elders has agreed to let this child reside safely within the Cloud Recesses, but only as long as Wangji behaves.”

That certainly complicated things, but it also made sense. It explained why Lan Wangji, in spite of having done some horrible deed that went against his sect’s morals, would remain with them. It could also have been the mere fact that Lan Wangji was definitely the sort of person who believed in rules even when they had negative consequences for himself… but few men kept that sort of belief when the consequences in question were their own death. While if there was a child…

“If your brother could be offered a safe house of sorts where to hide with that child until everything is under control again, would he accept?” Nie Huaisang asked.

“Perhaps, if I explained to him why I need him to disappear for a while,” Lan Xichen replied, a small crease forming on his brow. “But I’m not sure there’s anyone who would accept to hide him at the moment. Not when I’m almost certain the elders might reveal…”

“Er-ge, let me make you a promise,” Nie Huaisang said, gently squeezing the other man’s hands. “Because you see, I own a house a little way out of Qinghe. My father bought it for my mother when they married, for when she needed to retire somewhere quiet, and when she died it went to me. It’s abandoned now, and in disrepair. It’s also quite isolated. So here is my promise: if you trust me enough to send Wangji there with that child of his, I won’t reveal he’s there, no matter what I learn about him. Whether he killed someone, or consorted with demons… even if he ate human flesh, even if he used evil ways to improve his cultivation… no matter what terrible people he associated with, or how inhumane his deeds… as long as he is inside my mother’s house, I will not tell a soul where he is, for your sake.”

And for his own sake as well, Nie Huaisang thought, knowing his brother and him desperately needed an ally, someone the cultivation world would not dismissed as biased against the Jin or touched by madness.

That little declaration had exactly the effect Nie Huaisang hoped for. Lan Xichen froze, his grasp on Nie Huaisang’s hands nearly painful. His face, so pale a moment before, took on a warmer hue visible even in this dark night, while his eyes shone as if he might cry. Before he could shed any tears, Lan Xichen let go of Nie Huaisang's hand so he could pull him into a crushing hug. 

Nie Huaisang only hesitated only a moment before returning that hug. It was just a ploy to get Lan Xichen to finally act, nothing more, but he hadn't been hugged in so long, and it felt good to be held that way. 

"Huaisang, I am so grateful that you would offer this," Lan Xichen whispered, sounding as if he might really start crying. "But I can't accept. It's too dangerous. If your brother found out, in his current state…" 

Nie Huaisang pulled back, not quite breaking the hug, but enough to bring his hands to Lan Xichen's face, cupping his cheeks the way he'd seen some particularly besotted lovers do. 

"You help me with my brother, I help you with yours," Nie Huaisang said with more earnestness than he'd planned. "We're in this together, so please trust me as much as I trust you." 

Lan Xichen could only stare at him with an expression of such open affection that Nie Huaisang almost felt guilty for using it against him. 

Guilt, surely, was the only reason he felt almost dizzy while held so closely, and gazed at with such tenderness, the explanation for his heart beating too fast. 

Nie Huaisang felt guilty, but it was all to protect his brother. And it was also to protect his brother that he impulsively pressed his lips to Lan Xichen's. 

If that didn't convince him to do what was right… 

But it did the trick, just as planned. When they stopped kissing, too breathless to go on, Lan Xichen looked as if he would have gathered every star in the sky, should Nie Huaisang have asked for them. 

"I will talk to Wangji," Lan Xichen promised. "I will convince him… I doubt he'll put up much resistance. He doesn't like that they're using little A-Yuan against him, and he'll like it even less when he find they're using him against me." 

Nie Huaisang agreed, and gave a detailed explanation on how to find his mother's house, and described where he'd hidden some money there, in case if emergency. Nie Huaisang doubted that he would be able to go greet Lan Wangji for fear of attracting attention, but he could provide some help even from a distance. 

"I am for ever in your debt, Huaisang," Lan Xichen said, stealing a quick kiss. "I swear I will repay it. I'll make sure everyone knows the truth about Jin Guangyao, I will force my sect to stand with da-ge. Just hold on a little longer." 

"I trust you," Nie Huaisang replied, stealing a kiss as well. "And until da-ge can see again you are truly his friend, I'll keep practising your song. We're going to save him!" 

"We are," Lan Xichen agreed. 

He looked so happy as he said that, as if it truly mattered to him to help Nie Mingjue, and that in turn made Nie Huaisang’s heart race in his chest. He might forgive Lan Xichen for having sided a while with the wrong sworn brother, he thought. Lan Xichen was doing his best to correct his mistake after all, the way a true friend would do. 

In fact, Nie Huaisang might have already more than half forgiven him.

Still, just to make sure Lan Xichen remembered he had much to gain by doing the right thing, Nie Huaisang kissed him again. Just for safety, he told himself. And the next kiss was to distract Lan Xichen so he wouldn't ask too many questions about Nie Mingjue's current state. 

For the last kiss they shared, Nie Huaisang had no excuses. He had just felt unbearably scared as they both prepared to head home, and he'd wanted a last moment of warmth and tenderness before returning to the coldness and isolation of the Unclean Realm. 

It might not have been his smartest decision to have lost time with that. Dawn was starting to colour the sky when Nie Huaisang finally reached home. Not that it mattered much, he told himself. The secret passage he used to get out was well out of the way. It also wouldn't surprise anyone if he slept later than strictly reasonable once he made it to his room. Or else if he was spotted inside the Unclean Realm, he'd just say he'd wanted to do a bit of bird-watching and got up early. That always worked. 

What he didn't have was an easy explanation being discovered outside the Unclean Realm by his brother, just as he was about to enter that secret passage. 

"I swear it’s not what you think," Nie Huaisang cried out, but the expression on his brother’s face only darkened.

This time, Nie Huaisang was in trouble.

[mikwrites-archive]

eastside

✧  pairing: lee jihoon x fem!reader        ✧  warnings: mentions of fights, blood, but very brief!! ✧  genre: bad boy au, fluff        ✧  wc: 1.8k

✧  a/n: call call call jihoon lives in my mind rent free!!! mayhaps this is inspired by that song w khalid and halsey and not entirely proofread bc im tired n going to bed hwjbsdjhs 

You met Lee Jihoon in your mathematics class during your last year of high school, where you sat by the daydream filled window, and he sat behind you, his own mind occupied by the living daydream in front of him. 

But he never spoke to you, and you to him, until one morning you turned around, ignoring the gawking gazes of your friends, asking him if he was alright. 

He supposed you were referring to the bruised lip and scabbed knuckles from the nasty fistfight in the park last night that was circulating around the student body, but all he could manage to stammer was:

“I’m fine, and you?”

You smiled at him sweetly.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“That’s so embarrassing.” Jihoon groans. “How do you even remember that?” 

“How could I forget my first conversation with bad boy Lee Jihoon?”

“Don’t call me that.” Jihoon narrows his eyes, and it’s clear you’re not impressed as you cross your arms, so he pins you against the glass pane of the bus stop bench, and you melt into giggles.

“Bad boy Lee Jihoon who’s secretly a softie.” You singsong, and he pinches your side as you squirm.

“I asked nicely, baby.” He murmurs against your cheek.

“Not fair.” You whine at the use of the petname, face burning hotly as he grins.

The bus screeches to a stop, and you both hop on hand in hand, trailing all the way to the tail of the bus. Jihoon takes out a tangle of headphones and his battered portable CD player.

“This is new.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I’d been working on it for a few weeks and I think it’s finally done.”

“It’s good. Really good.” You know your opinion is far from professional, but to Jihoon, it means just as much of not more.

“This is our stop.” You prompt him once the bus jolts to a standstill, rising, but Jihoon tugs you back down and you don’t protest, falling back to his side curiously.

“I have a surprise. It’s just a little bit further.” He explains.

He takes you to a small auto garage he says a friend of his owns, lifting the overhead door to reveal a classic blue Corvette.

“I’ve been saving up for it.” He puffs up triumphantly. “Almost have the payment down.”

“It’s beautiful.” You smile, running your hand over the hood. 

“Then we can go anywhere.”

“Anywhere?”

The glowing sun illuminates Jihoon’s smile, and your breath is taken away at the beauty of it.

“Anywhere.”

“Word has been going around that you’ve been hanging around that boy, Lee Jihoon.”

“Have I?” You respond airily, your parents exchanging a look, the scraping of forks and knives decreasing by two. You can’t say you’re surprised they’d found out about Jihoon, but you are slightly impressed it’s being brought up so soon at dinner.

“Don’t play coy. It’s unbecoming.” Your father glares, but you know he’s not truly upset until he’s at least discovered your intentions.

“We’ve taught you better than to play around with boys like him.” Your mother purses her lips in disapproval, and you set down your cutlery.

“I’m not playing around. I’m quite serious about it.” At your father’s raised eyebrow, you hurry on. “We’re friends. He lets me listen to his music. He makes nice songs. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

You’re not entirely lying.

Jihoon’s lips are slightly chapped, his mouth pressing slowly against yours as if you had all the time in the world under the flickering lights at the very back of the bus, hands gently gripping your waist. Your own hands rest on his chest, and he wonders if you can feel the way it races under the leather and studs. 

It’s reluctant, the way he pulls away once the driver droningly announces your stop. He helps you hop off the bus, and as you both begin to walk, he clasps your hand in his.

“I’m gonna marry you one day.”

Your heart feels suspended in that moment, as if Jihoon had caught it in his hands, leaping and jumping, and it’s not until Jihoon halts, gazing at you curiously that you turn and smile incredulously at him.

“Don’t I get any say in this?”

A flush washes over his features as he realizes, sputtering apologies, and you laugh. 

“I’m only kidding.” You sigh fondly, and Jihoon shrugs.

“Well, I’m not. I really mean it. If you’ll say yes when the time comes of course.” Jihoon states, steadfast, and you swallow. “I don’t mean to freak you out or anything-” he starts as he sees your expression, but you cut him off, smiling.

“I want a big house.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nod, giggling. “With a pool and everything.”

“Anything for you.” Jihoon promises, and you blink. You think this is what it means, to say you love someone without uttering those fated three words. “I’ll give it all to you.”

Jihoon’s not a liar. 

You know he’d tell you anything, give you anything, within the limitations of his comfort and wants, yet it still makes you nervous to ask him, like the first day you bolstered your courage to speak to him.

“Hey, Ji?”

“Hm?” He’s immersed in his textbook, frowning as he taps his pencil along to a rhythm only he could hear.

“I know you don’t really like going to dances, but it’s our last year, and I was wondering if you wanted to come to one with me? I can go myself if you really don’t want to since my friends are going-”

“I’ll take you.” Jihoon sets his pencil down, a small smile on his face.

“Really?” You exclaim, repeating it more quietly when you remember you’re in the library, leaning towards him excitedly.

“Yeah.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me happy?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“It could be fun,” he shrugs, lips quirking up as he returns to his work, and you scoot around the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek giddily.

“Thank you.”

“Okay, okay.” Jihoon flushes. “Don’t thank me. At least not here.”

“He’s here.”

Your mother’s disapproval is palpant as she lets you know from your doorway, obvious now that your previous conversation had been a lie and that you and that boy, weren’t just friends.

“Tell him I’ll be down soon please.”

Your mother softens at the way your expression lights up at her words. She trails behind you with the camera when you walk as fast as you can down the stairs, a brilliant smile on your face when you see Jihoon.

He’s talking (albeit stiffly) with your father, breaking away when he meets your gaze, and you make a note to question him about that later.

“You look beautiful.” Jihoon whispers. His hands flutter, as if wanting to move to touch you, but with your parents standing to the side watching, he doesn’t dare.

You, however, gently smooth the lapels of his suit jacket, smiling tentatively.

“Thank you. You look very handsome.”

“Now, smile for the picture,” your mother interjects, and Jihoon gathers the will to place his arm lightly around your waist.

“You know when to be home.” Your father tells you sternly before swerving to Jihoon. “Not a second late.”

“Yes sir.” Jihoon shifts uncomfortably, and you smile.

“Please don’t tell me we’re taking the bus.” You murmur under your breath as you step out the house.

Jihoon guffaws. He pulls out his jangling keys, twirling them around his finger proudly. In your driveway rests the blue Corvette.

“No baby. We’re not.”

“Did you really have to get into a fight?” You sigh, dabbing gently at Jihoon’s bloody lip in the backseat.

“That bastard didn’t know when to shut his mouth.” He spits red over the side of the car, and your chest rises and falls deeply in exasperation once again. 

The silence makes Jihoon uneasy, gently taking the ice pack you were preparing and placing it over his bruised cheek himself.

“C’mon baby. I’m sorry.” Jihoon wheedles, tugging you down on his lap, lips puckering in an apologetic pout. “I know how excited you were about the dance.”

You’re not actually upset about missing the dance, if you’re honest, but you do love to vex Jihoon a little bit when necessary. 

“That’s not working this time. I’m upset with you. You’re on a kissing ban until the foreseeable future.”

“What?” He gawks, and you smirk. “But-”

“No buts.”

“But... what if I told you a secret?”

You hesitate.

“I’m listening.”

“I love you.” He softens, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on the sides of your hips, and you cup his face tenderly with a beaming smile.

“I know. You’re horrible at keeping secrets.”

“Are not!”

“Mm... Kind of.”

“Only with you.” He grumbles and your laugh sounds like wind chimes swept by a summer’s breeze. 

“I love you too.”

“I know.” 

Time flies by fast after that.

Too fast. And before you and Jihoon know it, it’s the day before graduation. A day before your future becomes something other than riding the rattling Corvette, stealing kisses under streetlights, and sharing headphones. 

“I’m leaving after graduation.” 

Your eyes flicker across the grassy knolls from where you’d set down a picnic blanket for you both to sit on in the park, pursing your lips lightly as you think of how to respond. Jihoon barrels on anxiously.

“I’ve made enough with performing a little, and I sent in some of my lyrics to some companies and they really like it. They want me to work with them.”

“That’s really amazing, Ji.” And you mean it, finally turning to face him, and he smiles, a heartbreaking smile.

“I’m gonna come back.” He swallows. “I mean, for visits for sure, but when I do... will you still be here? I still gotta marry you y’know. Big house with a pool and all.” He adds on partly as a joke and partly as a quiet reminder.

You smile at the words, leaning on his shoulder.

“Don’t make me wait too long, okay?”

“I’m tired.”

Jihoon leans his head on your shoulder, murmuring, and you laugh.

“Ji, this is our wedding. Am I boring you?”

“Never.” He huffs. “You never bore me. But I think I’ve heard enough of the BooSeokSoon trio singing tonight.”

“Wait,” you lift him off of you apologetically. “I’ll be right back. My grandma is flirting with Mingyu.”

You maneuver around, beelining towards Mingyu who politely kept denying your grandmother’s affectionate touches to his arm and chest at the refreshments table. Jihoon laughs at the sight.

When you finally distract your grandmother (Mingyu sending you a grateful glance before scurrying away), your father sidles up to you.

“He told me, years ago, that he’d marry you y’know.” Your father states gruffly after a reminiscent pause, and you’re not surprised, thinking of prom night. You’d giggled uncontrollably when Jihoon confessed his teenage determination to your father that evening, much to your parent’s disbelief. “Guess he proved me wrong.”

A comfortable pause fills the gaps. You watch as Jihoon eggs the others on into teasing Mingyu about his encounter with your grandmother, an amused smile blooming on your features.

“He treats you well?”

Jihoon catches your gaze, sending you a wink. Happiness glows in your chest.

“Always.” 

✧  taglist: @seijoh​ @soranihimawari​ @peachy-yabbay​

[thirstystarkey]

Bass Players 🦋 Rudy Pankow AU

Prompt: Y/N is forced by her best friends to attend the most desired underground rock band, against her will she goes. But what happens when she gets stuck with one of the band members? Will she discover the why they say bass players have the best fingers or will she just ignore him?

Warnings: mention of drugs and alcohol, sex, various kinks including choking, overstimulation, public sex, this is just another script for pornhub tbh

MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN, IF YOU WANT TO SEND ME ANY BLURB OR PROMPT ABOUT THIS TROPE (y/n x rockstar!rudy) IM MORE THAN WILLING TO DO IT, LOVE YOU ALL 🥰💞✨

01

It all started when her roommates, who were also Y/N’s best friends, decided it was a perfect idea to attend a sweaty dirty concert just to droll over some dumbasses with good voices and cute faces. Y/N wasn’t in the mood to be stuck all night in the middle of drunk young adults but it was too late now, since her friends had already dragged her to the venue, the least she could do now was to enjoy herself as much as she possible could.

That of course until something went wrong, Y/N got separated from her friends during the last two songs and with the crazy crowd it was nearly impossible to find them again so she decided she was more than done for today. Her feet hurted from being stepped on and her head was killing her beside she smelled like a mixture of her own perfume and smoke.

As Y/N walked away from the crowd she could still hear them scream for the other band in line who was almost ready to enter the stage. Honestly she had absolutely no idea where she was going but it didn’t stopped her from trying to escape.

Y/N found a dark corridor, lighted up with blue lights where a few poster and guitars where hanged up on the walls so she followed it, in hopes it would lead her to the main exit, but when she was just passing by the middle something hit her head with such force that she fell backwards into the ground.

“What the fuck.” That was the first thing that came out of her annoyed mouth, both brows frown together as her head spinned.

“Oh my god, oh no oh shit.” Y/N heard a male voice speak, in panic, assuming it was the cause of her fall but she couldn’t bother in opening her eyes.

Once Y/N opened her eyes and saw the famous bassist Rudy Pankow in front of her, her the first reaction was to roll her eyes. He had changed into a black tshirt and his hair was wet all over the place, probably he showered after his show. Which made her think, was she roaming for that long? The night couldn’t get worse.

“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling in front of her. Y/N was supporting her body in her forearms. When she opened her mouth to speak Rudy panicked again and placed his hand over her mouth, in fear she would scream and bring attention to him. “Please don’t scream!” He begged in a yell whisper.

“Get your disgusting hands off my face, I’m not going to scream you conceited ass.” Y/N chided pushing him off of her.

“Feisty one I see.” Rudy looked at her, up and down but before he could say anything loud screams interrupted him.

Out of other option the bassist grabbed Y/N’s hands pulling her back on her feet as he entered a room, that a few seconds later Y/N recognized as the males bathroom. She was more than done with the situation, rage was visible on her pupils as the screams pierced her ears.

“Ugh, fuck me.” Y/N whispered to herself, banging her head in the wall. At least it didn’t smelled like piss.

“Let me at least buy you dinner first.” Rudy joked and Y/N glared at him.

“This isn’t funny.” The girl sighed very frustrated. “And can you please give me room to breath?” She added while she pushed him away.

“Oh I’m so sorry miss, I think I forgot we are in a bathroom stall, next time I’ll find us a luxurious suite.” Rudy ironized.

“You aren’t funny and I don’t give a single fuck about your crazy fans so I’m leaving.” Snorted Y/N unlocking the door from the bathroom stall.

“You can’t leave. If anyone sees you leave and I follow I’m fucking dead with rumors and questions about “this mystery girl” He said with a loud frustrated groan. “Do you want to be that mystery girl?”

“I wanna go back to my normal life, so if you excuse me, I’m leaving.”

The moment Y/N tried to step outside the other door opened up and three blonde girls walked in like they were looking for something, or better, they looked like they were looking for water in the middle of the dessert and by dessert it reads the band members.

Rudy quickly pulled Y/N back into the stall with him before the other girls could find them, this time trapping her between his muscly arms back against the door, their luck was that the doors were long enough that from that outside no one could tell how many people where inside, because even if Y/N thought that the other girls looked dumb as hell they sure knew how to count until 4.

Y/N tried to speak but again Rudy placed his hand over her mouth tightly, making her stay silent until it was safe, but this time it was different. Their bodies were pressed so firmly against each other that Y/N could feel all of his muscles against her body and her breasts where pressed against his chest and her legs were trapped between his.

They both glared at each other, madly, Rudy just wanted her to stay quiet but every atom in her wanted to scream from the top of her lungs about how he thought he was the shit, sure Y/N couldn’t deny he was hot and that having his hand so close to her throat did made her wonder about other things but still he was an arrogant piece of shit and she was beyond mad and worried about her friends and how she would get home.

She tried to speak but everything came muffled due to his hand so she decided to bite his fingers, he immediately moaned in pain waving his hand trying to ease the stinging pain.

“You can’t stay quiet can’t you?” He whispered, done with her, in Y/N’s ear as he watched the skin of her neck shiver.

“Fuck you.” Y/N said looking straight at his eyes.

As they could hear the girls talk perfectly about the band Y/N made disgusted faces at their comments, especially the ones about Rudy, which made him boil he just didn’t understood why she didn’t like him. Everyone did.

“You know what they say about bass players right? Oh my god I just wish he did the same to me, fucking ruin me.” One of the girls said as they walked to the exist, Y/N cheeks automatically turned red as she tried to play it off by sticking her tongue out as if she was vomiting.

When the girls finally left Rudy pressed her even more to the bathroom stall door, he looked down at her, taking in her beautiful features.

“Can I go now?” Y/N questioned tapping her toe. Talking with him so close to her was difficult.

“Why don’t you like me?” He ignored her question.

“Oh for fucks sakes.” Y/N whined pushing him off, he sat in he toilet waiting for an answer. “Look it’s not like I hate you or something, your band is kinda good but I don’t know you so I can’t like you nor be obsessed over someone I don’t know!” Y/N explained to him like Rudy was a little child as she maneuver her hands in the her frenetically.

“So what you’re saying is if you knew me you would be crazy about me?” He teased her.

“In your dreams rockstar.” Y/N rolled her eyes trying to to laugh while she turned on her back to unlock the door but to her surprise it didn’t do anything. “Oh no.” She cried out in a whisper. “The door is locked.” Y/N stated looking at him. Rudy stood up quickly and in one small step his body was already closer to hers.

“Yes smartass, you just unlock it.” He said, without a doubt. “Or maybe not.” Rudy added after doing the same thing she did.

Great. Now she was stuck in a bathroom stall with a famous bassist, a very good looking one.

“Do something!” She order looking over her shoulder to see his face, realizing her back as pressed against his chest and their mouths were millimeters apart.

“I will just call someone.” He said, looking at her plump lips.

“Do it then idiot.” Y/N rolled her eyes trying to avoid the obvious tension as she pushed his chest.

Rudy quickly dialed some random number and after a couple seconds someone picked up.

“Yo man, I need your help. Where are you guys?” Rudy asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Y/N was fast to realize that by the looks on his face he didn’t had good news. Rudy looked at her and sat down again while he placed his phone back into his pocket.

“We are fucked. Drew said it would take them about an hour to come get us out.” He explained.

“What am I going to do in an hour? This is totally torture.” Y/N ramble.

“I hope you know a lot do girls would kill to be in your position.” He said, getting up with arms crossed around his chest.

“And what is exactly my position?” Y/N placed one hand over her hip as she spoke.

“Well, you are here, stuck with me. All alone. In this small bathroom stall. I can imagine a lot of scenarios in my head.” Rudy spoke slowly, taking his time with every words to take in all of her little reactions while he with just two steps got closer to her face.

“And what those scenarios include?” Y/N decided to play along, now not leaning into the door she almost closed the space between them.

“They include you and I and much less clothing.” He whispered in the shell of her ear.

“You know what, for someone who has so many girls dropping to their feet you are pretty stupid.” Y/N whispered back into his ear, laughing.

taglist: @hmspxgue @teenwaywardasgardian @pankowstyle @scandalousfemale @jjsbxtch @maybanktho @crushe-s @jiaraendgame @erraaxh @sexualparkour @lolitstiana @obxmxybxnk @ampanonyg @paradigmax @simpingforrudypankowonly @pogue-writings @obx-saltlife @merchantjjreply @jjmaybank-pop-punk-god @floretsoleil @spookysquishsworld @maybankslut @tineebucky @moddyursomarzo @marianas-studyblr @everysmalltownauthor

[officialleehadan]

Third Side Saving

Hello darlings! What a stormy day I'm having. The wind has been snarling across the roof all day!

Today's story was brought to you by Clown! Darling, I hope it's everything you were hoping for! There will definitely be more of this!

Prompt: Higher Being Housemates, with the making and signing of a Contract.

+++

“Do you have a minute? I’ve discovered a rather complicated situation.”

Tracy looked up from her desk to discover Davi lingering in the doorway. The angel was one of the quieter members of their household. Oh, he was around, and if he was around, Mara usually was too because the lovebirds were never far from each other. Today, however, this lovebird was flying solo.

“I would make time for you even if I didn’t have a minute,” she promised him. Her finals were done at last, and now it was the yearly registration song and dance. That, however, was not as time sensitive and could be put aside. “What can I do for you, Birdie?”

“It’s about a human,” he told her and tentatively sat at the table across from her. “The discussion the other night, regarding Contracts, gave me an idea and I want to discuss it with you.”

“Go for it,” Tracy said encouragingly and went for the ever-full coffee pot that she was reasonably sure had been Miracled to always stay hot and perfect. Then again, it could easily be the Cats and their habit of mobbing anything she thought was important to keep her life going smoothly. “Might not be able to answer, but I’ll do my best.”

“The human in question is a friend,” Davi explained as Tracy made her coffee and doctored it from their truly extensive collection of flavorings. “If angels can be considered such with humans. I met him not long after I came to Earth.”

“Got it. So what do you need me for?”

“I don’t, precisely. I need Blake, but he says he needs your permission first,” Davi told her. He fiddled with a pen and steeled himself long enough to meet her eyes. “My friend, his name is Jonas, he’s in a bad position. His wife died two years ago, and his daughter is dying of the same genetic disease. He’s been bankrupted by the health system, and he’s going to lose his job because of the time he has to spend at the hospital.”

“Sounds like time for some Angelic Interference.”

“The Host… we have limitations,” Davi explained to her, suddenly tired and very sad all at once. The weight of his work as a minor Guardian bore down on him. Tracy didn’t need to ask to know that he remembered every soul he tried and failed to save. “I don’t have the power, or the permission, to help him the way he needs. I can’t do anything that big, but…”

“But a Contract with a greater demon could,” Tracy realized abruptly as the pieces came together in her mind. “Blake is limited only by his power and my permission. If your friend signs a Contract, we can make sure he has everything he needs.”

“Yes.”

It was an odd shade of simple and brilliant. One that Tracy had never considered before. Of course. Of course the angels had limits. She knew that from Angelika, after all. She would have done far more for her homeless shelter if she could have. Davi was of the Least Order as Angelika had been. His hands were tied to help people the way they needed helping.

But Tracy, with seventeen demons, didn’t answer to anyone.

“Blake, I need you,” she said with a gentle tug on the place where her first, dearest demon was bound to her heart. “Davi, get your friend. Is he already in the know?”

“He caught me molting before I met Mara,” Davi said, somewhat embarrassed. “Like Angelika, I was living in shared housing. I… may have gotten entirely tangled in the shower curtain and ripped it off the wall.”

“Awesome. That cuts down on explanations. Does he trust you enough to take a Contract with a demon?”

“We’re doing Contracts now?”

Blake swept into the room, as dramatic as the Cats and shrouded in his gorgeous magpie wings. Tracy accepted a kiss on the head when he went past her, hunting for the coffee.

“Davi has a friend that Heaven can’t help,” Tracy explained with a nod to Davi, who stepped out onto the balcony and vanished into the sky in a rush of white feathers. “I seem to remember you and Mara getting spectacularlydrunk and redoing the demonic boilerplate Contract to play nice with our household rules. You still have it?”

“Less whatever we’re giving and what we’re taking in return,” Blake said with a baffled shrug. “Wouldn’t be hard to update. Not like either of us are new to taking Contracts.”

Tracy nodded decisively, a plan forming in her head. One that made her smile with genuine, smug pleasure. “Grab it, will you? Davi is getting his friend, and I get the feeling that sooner is better than later with this one.”

Blake gave her a confused wing-shrug, and held out his hand. There was a puff of fire that Tracy thought was mostly for the drama of it, and a scroll appeared in his palm. She took it and read over the tiny, user-hostile font. It wasn’t her first time seeing a Contract. Blake had showed her one long ago, back when they were first figuring out how to make a family of one angel, one demon, and a human. From what she could see, the Contract was as generous as it could possibly be.

“That’s the ‘good person’ Contract,” Blake told her with a sly little grin. “We have a different one for people who need some consequences in a hurry.”

“Perfect. We’ll see what this guy actually needs, but I think we may have found our niche,” Tracy told him and handed the Contract back. It would take some work to figure out all the details, but that was manageable. A rustle of wings announced Davi’s return, this time with a human in tow. Jonas, she presumed. He was a good-looking guy, who was only a little older than her. He was in a rumpled suit that looked about a size too big. Either he had no idea how to buy a suit, or more likely, he had lost a lot of wight recently. Stress, she would bet. “HI there. I’m Tracy.”

“You, uh, nice to meet you,” Jonas said, wind-shaken and uncertain. No surprise there, considering he had an angel at his back, and a demon before him. “Davi… Davi says you might be able to help me?”

“I think maybe we can,” Tracy said, and ushered him to the table. “So, let’s figure out what you need, and we’ll see what we can do. After all, if the Third Side can’t help you, who can?”

+++

Higher Being Housemates:

As it turns out, rent is really high  in Heaven. It’s not great in Hell either. An angel and a demon come to  an agreement that works for them both.

Their human housemate still  hasn’t decided whether or not to help them, or kick them all out of her  house. After all, Grad school is hard enough without the Great War  making it worse.

Bright Red Panties

Black and White Feathers

Demonic Comfort

Demonic Intervention

Unwanted Attention

Magpie Wings

Don’t Fall

Sparklers and Demon Smiles

Holy Words

Holy Tea

Santa Baby

Pledge Promise

Unholy Fuss (Free on Patreon)

Tuxedo Cat (Subscribers Only!)

Shadow Puff (Subscriber Only!)

If This Then That

A Third Side (Subscriber Only)

Sharp Edges

Red Letters

Stand Together (Subscriber Only!)

Fuzzy Interlude

The Fun Side  (Subscriber Only!)

Feathers and Tea

Making Christmas

Santa Satan

All the Pillows

Grey and Red (Subscriber Only!)

Low Tide (Free on Patreon)

From the Heavens (Subscriber Only!)

Silver Shine

Five out of Six Ends are Pointy

Cinnamon Kisses (Free on Patreon!)

Thanks and Giving (Free on Patreon!)

Hounds of Hell (Free on Patreon!)

Potential Alliance (Free on Patreon!)

Wing Blade Runner

Third Side Saving

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