#i'm going to be so mad if the next prompt is something like names lmao

[elliewiltarwyn]

FFXIV Write 2023 | Prompt #16: Jerk

is it anachronistic to have ffxiv OCs call each other jerks? maybe, however have you considered [throws down a smoke bomb and vanishes]

-1338 words

----

Elilgeim’s in an alcove down the hall, staring out the window at the frozen landscapes, when Mia finds her. She doesn’t need to wonder particularly hard about what’s on the other woman’s mind.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she needles lightly as she approaches, the candlelight emanating from the plate in her hand flickering across Elilgeim’s Roegadyn features.

Including the side-eye she gives Mia as she takes a seat on the bench next to her. “As if it’s possible to sleep after a day like today.” She can’t argue with that. She can’t really think of another thing to say, though, and so they sit there, the Roegadyn white mage and the Hyur free paladin, brooding in silence to themselves in the depths of Camp Dragonhead in the middle of the night.

What a pair we make, Mia sighs to herself. Out of all of the fellow Scions and Archons she had fought alongside, for her, Elilgeim, and Alphinaud to be the only ones to escape the banquet turned bloody must be… some kind of irony. She can’t think of a time any of them has had a kind word to say about the others, between Elilgeim’s insubordination, Alphinaud’s pompous impatience, and Mia’s virtues constantly clashing against theirs… and yet here they are cooped up for refuge in the same camp. If it wasn’t for Tataru, Mia wouldn’t be wholly certain they’d live through the night without ripping each other’s throats out.

…No, that isn’t true, Mia admits to herself. There’s too much self-blame and grief going around for any of them to truly aggravate each other anymore; the sight of poor Alphinaud with his head in his hands, weeping over the crushing weight of responsibility, had broken Mia’s heart. Even now: Elilgeim usually refuses to share a meal or a table with her, yet here they are sitting side-by-side, because who else is left? Her eyes burn as she squeezes them shut, the painful parade of the faces of their lost friends refusing to cease their march through her mind’s eye. 

(Each and every Scion they had been forced to leave behind in their flight stings painfully, but it’s Lilyana’s stand in particular that breaks Mia’s heart. Surrounded by Crystal Braves and Brass Blades at the entrance to the sultana’s secret tunnel, the miqo’te rogue had stepped forth and urged the others into the tunnel first—only for her to make several hand gestures they had never seen before and blast the entrance with a bolt of levin the moment the others had made it in. Through the crumbling rubble now cutting them off from each other, Lilyana had shouted at them to go, I’m going to hold them all off—I’m going to prove I can protect you all, the way you’ve protected me! 

As if Mia hadn’t been the one best suited to that role, as if dear sweet Lily hadn’t already proven her worth several times over…

There had been a small gap in the bricks through which Mia caught Lilyana’s eye for the last time, and the sad smile on her face before she turned and, with a savage war cry, leapt forward into the mass of soldiers before her, knives flashing and untested magicks exploding. She knows that smile is going to haunt her forever… All these friends, lost, for what…?)

“Hey, Mia?”

Mia jerks back, stunned, and stares at her seatmate, who is resting her cheek on the knee of her leg drawn up onto the bench, and—for the first time ever—is looking upon her with something beside frustration or even anger. Mia feels it may be a bit optimistic to read the way her face is arranged as trust, especially given who it is, but she really hopes it is. With tears brimming in the edges of her eyes, Elilgeim swallows a lump in her throat and quietly says, “Thanks… for surviving with me.”

It’s literally the first time she’s thanked Mia for anything, and with the enormity of this gratitude’s source, she has no idea how to process that. She blinks rapidly for a moment until she can finally draw out the words “Same… to you.” And it’s true: as frustrating as Elilgeim has been, as much as they’ve butted heads… she’s genuinely glad the other woman is here with her.

A tiny, wry smile quirks on the corner of Elilgeim’s lips. “Bet you wish it was anyone else, huh?”

Mia rolls her eyes and elbows the other woman in the side, eliciting an exhausted chuckle. “Someone with a sense of propriety and respect, maybe.”

“I have a sense of them; I just don’t pay them any mind.”

“Obviously.” She groans in exasperation and lays her head against the stone wall. “Jerk.”

“Heh. Sorry.” Mia blinks rapidly again. Truly a night of firsts. “I suppose I shouldn’t antagonize one of the few friends I have left.” Just one after another, really. On multiple levels…

“Friend, huh?” The word itself isn’t strange on Mia’s lips; the thought of directing it at Elilgeim is.

There’s a strangely warm glow in Elilgeim’s eyes as she looks upon Mia. “Somehow, in spite of everything… aye. Friend.”

“Interesting.” Mia can’t help but smirk at her. “Does being your friend grant any special privileges?”

“I suppose I could prioritize you with my curative spells,” she drawls, raising an eyebrow like the suggestion is most absurd.

“I’m generally taking the brunt of the damage. As far as I can tell, you already do.”

She winks. “So imagine what it’ll be like now that I actually consider you a friend.”

Mia throws her hands up and shakes her head in long-suffering resignation at her. “Truly, beyond mortal ken.”

“What, were you hoping for something better?” Elilgeim teases, nudging her back.

“I don’t know, it’d be nice to get nickname privileges or something.”

“I hate to tell you this, but Mia seems like an incredibly difficult name to abbreviate.”

“Not me, you jerk,” Mia sighs in exasperation, shoving the toe of her boot against the side of Elilgeim’s leg and eliciting a chuckle. “If I got to call you something only friends can.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Ellie.” It just slips out, easy as a breeze.

A sudden silence falls over the both of them, and when Mia looks up at Elilgeim, she seems frozen in place, staring right back, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. It dawns on Mia what she just said then, and she feels a horrific blush creeping up her face.

“...Huh.” Elilgeim shakes her head, waking from her reverie, and squints down at her hands, considering. “...Yeah, I guess that is a name you could derive from Elilgeim.” She blinks, then looks up at Mia, whose face feels like it’s on fire. “Funny. We ran with an Ellie for moons, and I never thought about that.” Her mouth twists a little. “...I liked her. Shame she wanted to zombify Ul’dah.”

That’s right, the false Mythril Eye reporter. “On the other hand,” Mia says slowly, grinning sheepishly up at the other, “you have to admit zombifying Ul’dah sounds pretty appealing right now.”

Elilgeim blinks down at her for a moment, and Mia wonders if she went just a step too far—and then suddenly the Roegadyn bursts into laughter, and that snaps the cord of tension winding Mia tight and lets her crack up too. “You’re not wrong there,” Elilgeim chuckles, wiping her face. She favors Mia with an interesting side-eye, like she’s carefully observing something before coming to a decision on what to do about it. “...I must admit: I don’t think I’d mind Ellie.”

A small excited thrill ripples through Mia’s veins then. “So… I get nickname privileges after all?”

“...Sure. Yeah.” Elilgeim—Ellie winks at her. “Though—maybe not in front of everyone else. Wouldn’t want them to think anything’s changed between us.”

Mia rolls her eyes and elbows her again. “Of course you wouldn’t. Jerk.”

“Couldn’t possibly be anything else to you,” Ellie says, with the most fondness Mia’s ever felt directed at her. “Could I?”

“Somehow, no. I guess not.”

[robo-dino-puppies]

part 2 of Things Lately. I have been plugging away at my dragon age journey and just finished 2. and. well.

first I will say here was my Hawke:

(you give me a character creator I'm for sure gonna use it! but I tried to keep her inspired by "default" Hawke) I love her. I love (almost*) all of them. found family is my favoriiiiiite I would love if they could all be happy and get along ha ha ha.

*the almost is because of a stupid gamey reason for Aveline - very early on, there was some seemingly-innocuous decision I made and she was like :[ +5 rivalry. uhhhh excuse me wtf lady? and then the next thing I did she was like >:[ +10 rivalry. WELL. ok then, if you have that much of a problem with me - FINE. and then if I tried to make her mad, she was like :) +10 friendship. and it just pissed me off lmao. so I rarely had her in my party because I can be petty like that. oh. also. I had little patience for Sebastian.

then i will say. trying to be as brief. and... hinged. as possible. um...

...

H                            E                               L                                  P

i predictably cannot resist a sad wet cat. especially one who loves cats himself T_T DOES THE WARDEN COMMANDER KNOW THEY MADE HIM GIVE UP SER POUNCE-A-LOT?! SHE GAVE HIM THAT CAT!!!

(also I will say my kingdom/left arm/firstborn/etc. for a real photomode D: my god how did I ever play games without photomode it is torturous)

cut bc this is getting long-

here's my Inquisitor:

(why does she stand like... that. ??? and why is she always kind of hunched over? and tilting her head? it weirds me out...)

also I did not know I would have to like. take extensive notes on my quest decisions. I was trying to get everything situated in the Keep and I'm like… fuck I do not remember anyone with that name. who were they? what the hell quest was this? *furiously looking things up* wait I only played it two weeks ago??! i forgor…

also also- Origins and DA2: no controller! only keyboard. me: 😭😭😭 Inquisition: you can use a controller now! me: oh thank god- Inquisition: but all the button prompts will be in Xbox! 😁 me: -fucking damn it.

this would not actually be a huge problem because I do know which buttons go where EXCEPT that Xbox and PS controllers share one button. with the same symbol. and friend. it does not live in the same spot on both. so I see X on screen and my muscle memory takes over lolcry

thankfully X/square isn't like, something you're prompted to press in combat usually. so it's not too awful. but still very annoying.

[reilliane]

starting this off with I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR WRITING especially Vigil and the 4NEMO series’ :D all of your series’ are amazing but i like those the best !!!

ok now onto the brainrot if you don’t mind <33

thinking about vigil!mc running into the soldiers who put her on her deathbed

thinking about ayato finding out who’d (and this works in the original au and the au where she lives) killed vigil!mc or put her on her deathbed oh dear

thinking about kazuha running into them as well and how he’d react

thinking about thoma and vigil!mc’s relationship!!! they’ve always given off the same vibes to me honestly

thinking about when sayu finds out vigil!mc had died :(

thinking about what the interactions between vigil!mc and yae miko would be like

thinking about how kujou sara would feel seeing vigil!mc again after she (at least i assume it was her ? unless it was . takayuki ?) had relayed raiden shogun’s order to kill kazuha’s close relatives

thinking about what tomo and vigil!mc’s relationship was like :( we don’t know much about tomo’s family and his general background but i feel like they’d be really good friends (?) or something along those lines

thinking about vigil!mc and how her relationships would be like with literally every genshin character ever because her and kazuha travelling the world together !!!!

GENERALLY JUST THINKING ABOUT VIGIL!MC AND UR VIGIL SERIES i love her so much

i will do the same thing for 4NEMO soon >:)

(also can i pls become 🧦 anon?? :0)

Why thank you, 🧦 dear, thank you, I'm glad they're to your liking :>

You gave me a lot of brainrots I see anD I SHALL INDULGE IN THEM ALL-

Post-Resolve where Vigil!MC survives and her brother's no longer a criminal thus the punishment is abolished, when she sees those who drove the spears to her heart, she would just- you know. Smile sadly. Which is very Vigil!MC. She understands that they're acting on orders, after all.

THOMA AND VIGIL!MC OMG YES, YES, SWEETHEARTS, TWO PEAS IN A POND. WHEN ANYONE SEES THEM THEY'RE BLINDED BY LIGHT AND PRETTY FLOWERS. If one helps out the other you can bet that their conversation will go, "Thank you, let me help you, too!" "Oh, I'm fine!" "I insist!" "I'm really fine, I appreciate it!" "I REALLY WANT TO HELP!" "AND I'M REALLY GRATEFUL BUT I'M OKAY!" "PLEASE??" "PLEASE, TOO??" lmao

SAYUUUUUUUUUU- oh she would be so sad... for once she's not lazing around when she visits MC's grave and places dendrobiums. She will linger around there in silence. Sometimes she'll lay down. You know, back when MC let her sleep on her lap... :'))

Yae Miko would honestly be a bit, I dunno, exasperated with Vigil!MC in the sense that she can't stand her goodness lmao- MC's just too good and kind to a fault. Also because I can bet that Yae would've probably set up pranks to set MC off but nothing worked PAHAH- don't ever underestimate the patience of an older sibling. MC's immune.

Now, Sara. Mm, delicious interaction. I'll shed some light upon it on the next irodori short featuring Vigil!MC and the rest!

Tomo... (๑′̥̥̥▵‵̥̥̥ ૂ๑) SNIFF TOMOOOO 〒▽〒 I also like to imagine that he's a year younger than MC but doesn't act like it at all (remember how he refers to her simply by her name aha) lmao. They have a good relationship together. He's also sort of a snitch AHAHAJSDHKA- say little Kazuha's gotten in danger and made him promise not to tell MC? Sorry, Kazuha. "He nearly fell off the cliff at Ritou." (︶︹︺) Kazuha's betrayed face lmao = ಠ╭╮ಠ

(inhales) VIGIL!MC IS SUCH AN ANGEL EVERYONE WOULD LOVE HER Its impossible not to be mad at her either- She walks around with flowers all over she could be the dendro archon /LH

Now omg can I say thank you?? These are wonderful prompts that brought a smile on my face in my rather gloomy week adjdsadsad. I'm so happy Vigil!MC's well-received (❁´◡`❁)

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part III/VII)

"shock therapy"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @sarcasticallywitty15 @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @leovaldez37 @missmulti @weasleywh0r3s

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: language, grief, allusions to suicide, mentions of death, let me know if I missed something

A/N: okay this is... Kinda dark, but I mean, expected given the prompt I'm working with lmao, I'd say enjoy but... Well, enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VI: the downfall

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

It began with small actions, like waking up earlier than me, or taking on making breakfast himself.

I thought he was feeling better.

Then came the big actions, like deciding to switch places with me an working with the clients while I made the shippings.

I started to feel something was off the third day since the exchange; I escaped the office to visit him and he could have easily passed as the giant mannequin in our façade.

"Are you alright?" I questioned in a worried whisper near his ear.

"Of course." I knitted my brows, puzzled at his response. He noticed how odd it had been due to my face, and that forced smile fell for a second as he leaned on me to place a kiss on my crown. "Don't worry about me, darling."

Before I could insist, his attention was stolen by a couple of very confused clients.

The following night in the flat, while we were making dinner, it seemed he had gone back to his usual demeanor, so I figured he was making extra effort to look happy in front of the customers.

I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong, though, something between us; I couldn't pinpoint it, yet knew it existed.

It was that same night that I got a grip of what was going on, when the bed's weight shifted, shaking me out of my sleep just in time to hear a muffled sob followed by a shaky breath.

"George?" His eyes met my own as I propped myself on my forearms.

"Did I wake you?" He questioned, his voice as quiet as mine. "Sorry, love."

Sometimes —more often than not— when he called me that name, I would feel butterflies in my stomach, and the fact that it was normally accompanied by some kind of physical contact didn't help at all.

He extended his arm to reach my hand, his thumb caressing the back of my palm. "Go back to sleep." He commanded in a soft whisper, getting up and walking towards the door.

As the door closed, my chest ached at the mere possibility of us going back to the first week we spend together in the flat after the war.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

I went straight to the kitchen and splashed my face with water before pouring myself a glass of milk.

Y/n had the brilliant idea of throw away all the alcohol in our apartment to avoid falling into bad habits as a copying mechanism, and, in all honesty, it was one of her best ones.

Grabbing the glass, I made my way to the living room, plopping down on the couch; I wouldn't even try to fall asleep there— it was proven impossible during the first week.

I had to snap out of it and start to sleep in my own room; the war left us all scarred in s million ways, and one of them included that even the slightest, quietest movement would wake you up, and I knew for a fact that Y/n wasn't getting one single night of sound sleep, and I was the one to blame.

"Oi," Speaking of which.

"What are you doing up?"

"Checking on you." She responded, leaning against the doorframe "You alright?" I nodded, but she walked to the couch either way, sitting down and letting herself fall over my chest. "You've been acting weird." She mumbled, snugging her face on my chest and consequently making my heart swell. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"

I hummed, my chin resting over her crown as my arm wrapped around her. "I know." I murmured, knowing very well it was lie.

There was several things I couldn't and wouldn't tell her ever, but I wouldn't let her know that. "C'mon, go back to bed."

"Not without you." It wasn't more than a mumble, since she was beginning to fall asleep on my chest, but it was loud enough to trigger me.

How many times I had dreamed of having her just like this, how many times had I yearned to wrap my arms around her and never let go, to kiss her, to sleep with her before the war; I still did.

I still wanted to kiss all her sadness away, to be able to call her mine; I still loved her in a way I shouldn't, and somehow it felt even more wrong now that Fred was gone.

It took me a moment to realise she had, in fact, fallen asleep. I carried her back to her bed and lay her down, carefully pulling the sheets to cover her.

I lay down too, promising myself I would face my fears the next day— I owe her that, at the very least.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n had left the apartment to go down the Diagon Alley to buy groceries and a new blouse.

It's now or never, I thought to myself, standing at the start of the hallway. I took a deep breath and made my way to my room with my bags hanging on my shoulders.

You can do this.

I reached for the knob with shaky hands and turned it.

You can do this.

My arms pushed the door open in a swift movement, my eyes anxiously scanning the room as if I was expecting to find a monster inside.

But there was no monster, it was just my room; a bit dusty and with a musty smell, but still my room.

I left my bags on the floor and sat on the edge of my bed. It wasn't scary, nor haunted, as I thought it would be, and I felt a weight off my shoulders; Y/n would be able to sleep the nights through, instead of waking up every now and then to my gasps and sobs.

Since it had been way easier than I thought it would be, I decided to take it a step further; I would have to enter there sooner rather than later to clean, so why not now?

Oh, what a big mistake I had made.

READER'S P. O. V.

"I'm back!" Somehow, I had managed to climb upstairs whilst carrying all the bags without tripping. "Did you know that Florean Fortescue's has three new ice cream flavours?" I threw the Twilfitt and Tatting’s bag on the sofa and made my way to the kitchen. "Don't be mad but I got you something at Twilfitt and Tatting’s!" Laying the groceries over the counter, I frowned at George's lack of responses. "George?" I left the kitchen and took a look around the flat; maybe he was down in the shop?

I was about to go downstairs when I saw a crack of light down the hall, one coming from a partially open door —from Fred's door.

My heart pounded hard against my chest as I made my way to the part of the house we rarely got to.

I knew George had to be inside, but the fact that no sound was coming out of the room —no sobs, no weeping, no ragged breathing— was about to put me under cardiac arrest.

What if during the last week he had gotten worse —rock bottom kind of worse— and that was why he had been acting so distant? What if those 'don't worry about me's had been foreshadowing something terrible?

I shut my eyes, my pulse hammering as I pushed the door open, dreading to find a horrifying scenario.

Open your fucking eyes, Y/n.

I couldn't help the sigh of relief when I saw George kneeled in the middle of the room, alive and breathing.

Then, I doubled checked and realized that maybe he wasn't that much alive. I circled the ginger so we could be face to face, and my heart shattered at the sight in front of me; his eyes were puffy, his cheeks pale, his nose red and streaks of freshly shed tears wetting his face. His hands clutched onto something that I quickly recognised as Fred's blazer, and my breath caught up in my throat.

"George..." I called his name in a quiet whisper; somehow it felt like we were trespassing.

He then looked up at me, eyes hollow, and spoke words so harsh that they burned, even if they weren't meant to hurt me. "It should have been me."

"George—"

"It should've been me there, I should've gone with Percy."

"Please—"

"It should've been me, not him." I felt my eyes watering, slightly blurring my vision as the man before me kept talking. "He had a life— he had you, I didn't have anything but him." His gaze was now casted down, and I no longer knew if he was speaking to me or to himself. "What am I compared to him? It should be me six feet under, not him."

That last sentence was what snapped me out of the state I was in. "Look at me." I commanded, kneeling in front of him and cupping his cheeks. "Do you think Fred would've wanted you to think that?" His lower lip quivered; we rarely said his name out loud anymore. "He would have beaten your ass. Don't you dare think like that ever again, you hear me?"

"But it's true—"

"No it's not!" I yelled, making him flinch. "It's not, George." I repeated, this time softer, my thumbs caressing his cheeks soothingly. "You're sweet, creative, caring and smart, and I'm so happy to have you here with me." His eyes closed, eyebrows knitted and lips pursed. "You're your own person, and that person is amazing." He leaned on, letting his forehead fall on my shoulder, my hands travelling to his back and hair as his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I miss him, Y/n." He confessed. "I miss him so much— it hurts."

“I miss him too, but I can’t let you lose yourself because of him.” I explained, planting a chaste kiss on his temple. “I cannot lose you too, okay?” I whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

"I'm sorry." His breath fanned on my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "I wanted to get better, so you didn't have to take care of me."

"Oi," I squeezed him tighter, if possible. "We're taking care of each other." His face buried deeper in the crook of my neck and I had to hold back a content sigh. "We can do this— together." I stated. "You can't go on your own for shock therapy— it doesn't work like that." He nodded. "You gave me a big scare."

"I'm really sorry." His hand, which, until then had been holding onto the blazer, let go of it in order to rub my back.

We stayed like that in silence for Merlin knows how long before I spoke against his shoulder, "I bought chocolate strawberries ice cream."

"Is that a thing?" I hummed affirmatively. He slowly pulled away, his hands leaving my back to rest on my waist before they held mines, pulling me up with him. We gazed into each other's eyes for an instant that felt like an eternity. "I didn't mean to scare you, love." He assured me, pulling me into another hug, this one only long enough for him to kiss my crown.

"I know." I pulled away, giving him a small smile that he managed to return, most likely involuntarily. "Wanna try that ice cream?" He nodded and I led him out of the room. "I also bought you a tie at Twilfitt and Tatting’s."

"Why would you buy anything from there?" His voice was starting to recover some strength as we walked to the kitchen with our hands interlaced.

"'Cause it was a very pretty tie." I defended myself, going to the sofa to grab the fancy bag while George went to grab a couple of spoons and the ice cream. "Look."

He walked to me and examined the tie. "Okay, it's quite pretty." He agreed, offering me one of the spoons.

"Told you." I handed him the tie and he gave it another look before leaning down to kiss my cheek.

"You didn't have to buy me anything." That small smile appeared again, making my heart swell.

"Well, I wanted to." I went to sit on the couch and he followed my lead, carefully leaving the tie over the backrest so he could open the tub.

"Sweet." He commented, dipping his spoon into the ice cream and handing me the container. We ate it in silence and, once we finished, his voice filled the room. "I think I might go for a nightwalk."

"It'll do you good." I nodded, bringing my knees to my chest and curling up in the couch after he took the spoon away from me and got up to leave it in the sink.

"Do you wanna come?" His quiet, almost sheepish question made my head turn to the kitchen door. "I mean— you've just come back but—" He left the kitchen, staring at me expectingly, scratching the back of his neck. "uh... if you wanna come, I could use some company."

"I'd love to." I didn't even notice the way my gaze lighted up until I saw it reflected on his own features, that shone with the slightest tinge of joy.

The fact that I was able to do that only by smiling at him made my tummy flutter.

[quinttyz]

I have another scenario!! (I'm the annon of the scenario of Sebastian) Maybe this will be a little spoiler???? Maybe it isn't even in one Xdxdxd when are you married to seb (I think this happens with everyone that you can marry) and u sleep in the right side of the bed (I think it's the right side) Your farmer gets up in the another side. So, this gave me this Idea:

One night the farmer and Sebastian was watching a fiction movie and drinking beer, well just Sebastian was drinking "Honey, don't you want to try a little?" He said "well... I can try take a sip". Sebastian was shocked, you never drink any type of alcohol and the farmer always denied when someone ask they. Said that he didn't has curiosity it's a lie, he just thought that they are allergic or something like this.

The farmer took the glass and they drunk... Sebastian was looking at they like he is dreaming. When the farmer finish, just look at Seb. They stayed looking the each other for a while, and then the farmer started to blushing "Are you okey?" Asked Sebastian getting up to the sofa.

"I think.... I think I.... I wanna an unicorn" said the farmer. Sebastian couldn't believe what is happening, the farmer is drunk, for one glass of beer. With an smile he said "Really? Maybe you can get one of you go to sleep"

"NO!!! I don't wanna go to sleep" said the farmer running across the room. Sebastian was taking his phone to record at the farmer "why not Honey?" "Because I... I won't be able to see you if I sleep" Seb stopped in shock and he started to blushing. "Oh... Oh well, Is okey if we just go to the bed?" "yeahhhhh".

Seb helped to the farmer to go to the bed when the farmer lay down on his side of the bed, Sebastian was close to say something to they, but in the moment that he tried to open the mouth, the farmer threw it towards them to the bed "Stay withhhhhh meeeeeeeee" "haha, I'm here I'm here, can you move a little?" He said this, and the farmer just started to hug him more "Nu" Sebastian just let they be... This night Sebastian and the farmer had a beautiful dream 🥺🥺🥺

This was more long that I thought, I hope u like it!!! (Tell me if someone is wrong! Is more easy make mistakes when I write something longe)

omg HAHAHHAHA this is so cute anon!!!

Omg it would be so funny to see the farmer drunk for the first time. Seb would DEFINITELY take a video of them and show it to them the next day LMAO they'd be so horrified!!

But he'd tell them they were so cute when they were so clingy. He probably blushed a lot when the farmer was drunk flirting with them HHWKA Sebastian would tease them that he'll show the video to Sam and Abigail but tbh, he never will, it'll just be his secret hehe. He'll probably rewatch the vid again and again because of how cute you were 😭😭😭😭

"Sebbyyyyyyy," the farmer rolled his name off of their tongue. They were already drunk and on the bed lying.

Sebastian chuckled as he was untying his sneakers. "Yes?" he replies.

As he turned to face the farmer, he was surprised to see them stripping!

"He-hey, what are you doing!" Sebastian asks, grabbing their hands, blushing furiously.

"...But it's so hot...," they whined. Sebastian took a moment to cool off before facing them again. They were already married but situations like this still makes his face redden.

"Now, now, let's...let's just get into bed," he says. The farmer looked at him for a moment then suddenly pulled him towards them.

He was now on top of them!

"Hehe. You're cute when you look like that," the farmer says, pinching his cheek.

Now he was blushing like mad.

"We'll make...lots of babies...," they continue. They laced their hands around the back of his neck and was slowly pulling Sebastian towards them to give a kiss when suddenly-

"Ah!'

The farmer passes out, burying Sebastian's face in their neck, surprising him. He takes a second to adjust himself up again.

As he looked at the farmer now sleeping peacefully, he laughs.

"What am I ever going to do with you?"

(this prompt is so cute I might do a short drabble about it!!!)

[livingforshawnscurls]

I'm So Sorry (We're Still Stuck in the Middle) | Shawn Mendes | 4

Series Masterlist Masterlist

4.

Four Years Ago Toronto, Canada

Shawn groaned aloud as Brian yelled along to the In My Blood lyrics blasting through the car's speakers. “Dude, can you not?”

“It’s the Grammys, Shawnie. Let him celebrate,” Geoff mumbled, half asleep, from his seat next to Shawn.

“Hey, hey, stop the car!” Shawn yelled from the backseat. “Pull up to the side!”

Ian gave him an irritated look over his shoulder even as he pulled up to a side. “What the hell? What do you—Shawn!”

But Shawn was already out of the SUV and crossing the sidewalk, on his way to the guitar shop he'd spotted through the windshield. It was extremely rare for a shop as this one to be open past midnight, and something in him—probably all the Cosmos he'd inhaled with Brian, back at his place—pushed him to walk into it and look around.

Inhaling deeply, he pushed the glass door open. A girl was seated behind the cash counter, earphones tucked in with her phone in hands. Her head shot up as Shawn walked in, and he had to take a moment to admire her.

She looked beyond adorable with her eyes wide, cheeks flushed and hair pulled up with tiny flyaways framing her face. Her lips dropped open in a silent gasp. Shawn blinked, a corner of his lips tugging up as he waved his fingers at her.

“Just wanna look around,” he told her, jerking a thumb in the direction of the range of all the beautiful electric guitars displayed on the wall opposite the cash counter.

She silently nodded, her wary eyes hovering over him for a few extended moments before dropping back to her phone.

Shawn walked up to the instruments he loved with all his heart, scanning the different pieces.

But found his attention drawn more to the girl.

Why didn't she react to his presence? Was it possible that someone in Toronto didn't know who he was? Or was it that she didn't care? That she didn't like his music?

His buzz was dying out fast with how quickly thoughts were spiralling in and out of his mind, and he had to finally give up trying to look at the guitars in favor of walking up to the girl.

And then he paused.

Since when did he get so obnoxious? Was it really that big of a blow to his ego that a girl didn't know him?

He pursed his lips, mad at himself for letting such a negative emotion drive him, however momentarily. He moved towards an instrument, reaching out with a hand to brush over the smooth surface.

But his brain prompted him to look over his shoulder, and—

He met her eyes. She looked away.

A smile crawled up Shawn's face.

She'd been looking at him.

He kept staring at her as he walked up to the counter. “Hey.”

She looked up, almost jumping at his sudden greeting, and Shawn flashed her a toothy grin. She tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear and visibly swallowed. “Hi?’

He pointed at the wall he'd just been perusing, and raised his eyebrows.

She frowned, looking a bit lost and all the more adorable. "Um, the price? That's the Player range, it's—"

"Shawn, what the heck, man!" Ian suddenly barged into the shop. "Come back!"

Shawn's eyes turned to saucers. He turned to look at the girl, who was frozen in place. He cleared his throat. "Um."

The girl turned her doe like eyes to him. "Uh?"

"Do—do you have a card?" he asked her, panicked and confused.

"Huh?" She was almost scowling now.

"Card—uh, visiting card? With your num—uh, theshop's number on it?" he hurriedly said, speaking over Ian's mumbled curses.

"Brian might decide to drive, Shawn. It'd get ugly."

Shawn held the counter with both his hands. "Well?!"

The girl blinked, and then dove into a flurry of moves, rushing around the space to finally present him with a hurriedly scratched name and number on a piece of—was that gift wrapping paper?

"We're open from seven to nine on weekdays, and ten on weekends," she almost robotically informed him. "And twenty-four hours on special days."

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Today's a special day?"

"It's fucking Christmas, Shawn!" Ian yelled.

The girl waved the piece of paper before him, and he hurriedly snatched it from her, stuffing it into his trousers. "Um…well—uh, at—at the risk of sounding like a cocky asshole, you do know who I am, right?”

The girl pursed her lips into a smile, and turned her phone's screen towards him. A smile slipped up on his face when he saw the cover of his second album displayed on the screen.

“Illuminate,” he read aloud, chuckling when she nodded with a blush. “What’s your favourite?”

The girl pursed her adorable, little lips. “Ruin, I believe."

He breathed out. People didn't usually go for that one.

"Shawn, I swear to God—"

"Oh for fuck's sake, let's go."

Shawn's eyes didn't quite wish to leave this beautiful face. But Ian, the asshole was dragging him back into the sordid can with his stinky, drunkard friends.

Crashing into his seat, Shawn dragged out the piece of paper as Ian started the car again.

Her name was beautiful.

With sparkles in his eyes, he pulled his phone out.

You hadn't moved from your position, at all.

As he was leaving, Shawn had brushed his hand against yours in farewell. You were still staring at said hand, trying to gauge how creepy of you it would be to smell it.

"Oh, fuck," you breathed out, shutting your eyes.

Did this even happen, or had your sleep deprived brain just conjured this up because you'd been listening to Ruin on repeat?

On cue, you hit pause on the song that was still playing. You unplugged your earphones from the phone, and were about to put the device to charge, planning to go out to smoke a cigarette, when it pinged with a message.

Before you could so much as unlock the phone, it pinged twice in succession.

Three texts from an unknown number. Your heart started to race.

will u go on a date with me? hehe im super bad at this its shawn btw

Oh my fucking God…

lmao, i returned from the dead, and randomly decided to continue this. stay with me, y'all!

Like & Reblog!

[gaylittleeddie]

some buddie prompts: "you're my family too" "when I first met you I didn't think you would become this important" "I didn't want to cry" "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong" "it's alright I'm here I'm real, it was just a nightmare" I'm a sucker for angst with an happy ending lmao, sorry if you have already done of this.

I’ll probably do another one of your prompts too but you said angst with a happy ending so here you go. I apologize if it’s bad. This is my first time doing prompts

prompt: you're my family too

word count: 1585

sent in by: @lil-italian-disappointment

Send me a prompt :) it can be for any characters/ships but I don’t do smut so

Eddie didn't know what to expect when he showed up unannounced at Buck's house, but it certainly wasn't this.

Buck was in his kitchen, sobbing over a picture before he had turned to look at whoever walked in. The older man didn't know what to do but stand there like an idiot in the doorway with his hand clutching the doorknob so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Sure, they've had their emotional moments. It's not like the two have never been vulnerable with each other. They're best friends. That's part of the point of someone being your best friend. You trust them with you and allow them to know parts of you that never usually never see the light of day.

But the way the blond quickly wiped at his face and pulled a grin that didn't quite sit right only made Eddie believe he walked in on something that he wasn't meant to ever know about. Which, kind of stung a bit. He smiled back anyways, "Hey man."

"Hey," Buck responded, sliding the picture into his pocket, "To what do I owe this pleasure to?"

It was a weak attempt at a joke. Or rather, a way to brush off whatever it was that had been witnessed. Every part of Eddie was screaming at him to investigate. To figure out why those blue eyes were bloodshot from tears that should have never even been there in the first place. They stood there, bodies tense. Both most likely afraid of what the other would say. What is there to say? What can they even talk about?

The city a couple of stories below was still the same as it had been just moments before but somehow the whole world had felt almost darker than it did. On the borderline of eerie. Something heavy had found its way in and rested uncomfortably in the area where his heart should be. The sound of throat clearing slightly shook him out of it.

"Oh, uh. I just wanted to see you, I guess," Eddie chuckled.

That was the truth, honestly. He never planned on telling Buck that. However, it was out there now, floating around innocently. The brunet probably, if not under the circumstances that he was now, would have died before admitting that to himself much less Evan Buckley. It held meaning. Hidden in plain sight but very obvious at the same time.

“I wanted to see you” didn’t mean just now. When then? Every day. For the rest of their lives if he was given the chance. He did want to see him that much, true. Yet, there were so many other things that he wanted more. Like two matching wedding bands glistening in certain lighting or turnout gear with the same names etched on the bottoms of it. He wanted family. Not that they weren’t now. But, he wanted a different kind. Not the “my best friend is someone we consider to be a pseudo-member” but more of “this is my boyfriend/husband and my son.” They were there, just out of reach of it. Eddie swore it taunt him every day.

He allowed himself to finally close the door. The taller man pulled out two beers and opened them before gesturing to one. Eddie continued, "It was getting a little boring staring at the same four walls in silence."

As he made his way over to the beer and picked it up to take a sip, he thought about how exactly to approach this situation. Comforting people was never a strong suit, of course excluding Christopher because that his son. It’s somehow easier. Well, kind of. He still needed his friends help with that sometimes, too. So how does one console the person who’s usually doing it?

“Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck sighs.

Even though he claimed that, it didn’t match what he was conveying. The firefighter’s posture was slightly slumped, his eyes were still red, and his hair was unkempt as if he’d been tugging at it in frustration. “I didn’t say you weren’t, Buck.”

“You didn’t have to. I can hear your thinking from here.”

Even though he knew it was just a saying, the thought of having Buck being able to hear his every thought scared the hell out of him. But that’s totally off topic. Eddie sighed into the air, shaking his head. He knew his friend wasn’t okay. He knows that man like the back of his hand.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, “We both know I saw you so let’s just not cut corners and get right into it. Why were you crying?”

The blond huffs, walking to the stairs and sitting down. His blue orbs glared at the floor, like it was it’s fault that he was feeling this way. The other man sets the beer down gently before coming over to lean against the railing, willing to wait for him to be ready to talk whenever. No words came, though. Instead, Buck reached back into his pocket and held out the picture.

Eddie took it. At first glance, it was nothing special but upon further inspection it was easy to make out that it was both Maddie and Buck. They were staring at the camera, neither smiling. Suitcases were piled in front of an old beat up car and a bag was slung across the older sibling’s back.

“That was one of the times she left. College. I’m not mad at her, obviously. I ran from our parents as soon as I could too. But looking back at it, especially after Red, really makes me realize that at the end of the day it’s always just been me,” Buck explains, “And I’m not even enough for myself so I get why everyone leaves.”

Eddie’s head snaps up at that. Did this man really just have the audacity to say that? Buck not being enough? That in itself doesn’t even sound partly right. “Buck, what-“

His partner cuts him off, “Don’t Eddie. I know you want to make me feel better but it’s not going to work. It’s true. I’m not enough. That’s why I have no one. Everyone around me has someone else, has family outside of the 118, so it has to be something wrong with me.”

Eddie felt like someone just punched him clear in the chest. No, actually he’s felt that before. It doesn’t hurt as bad as this. This was like he couldn’t breathe in a full breath, as if someone was strangling him. How long has Buck felt like this? How come he’s never noticed? Why would Buck feel this way?

Couldn’t he see? Couldn’t he tell that Eddie was so helplessly in love with him? Why didn’t he know that Christopher looked at him as if he created the world itself. Was Buck that good at hiding it or was Eddie just not paying attention until it slapped him clear in the face?

So many questions, none with clear answers. Eddie swallows down all of his own feelings, sitting next to Buck and stared at him until their eyes met. The younger man seemed slightly taken aback from the reaction, probably expecting him to say something rather than just observing silently.

“You have family,” Eddie states.

“Not like that-“

“Exactly like that.”

Buck blinks a couple of times at that. Confusion was slowly forming upon his features and Eddie’s heart broke just a tiny bit more at the fact that this man didn’t know how important he was in the Diaz unit. Without him, where would they both be? Chris wouldn’t have met Carla, Eddie would of probably gave in and move back to Texas. So many things would have been different and not for the better. Hell, his parents probably would have tried to get custody over their grandson at this point and something tells him he wouldn’t have won against them. Not because he’s some terrible parent. No. He just works a lot. Buck has improved their lives so much.

Of course, it only went worse from there. The tears were coming back from wherever they were stashed away before and wasn’t that just a kick in the chest?

“I mean, I know I have Maddie but she has Chim. Hen has Karen, Denny, and Nia. Bobby and Athena have each other plus their own thing going on with Michael, May, and Harry... You have Chris-“

“You’re my family too, Evan,” Eddie whispers slightly, “And not just in the best friend way.”

And the look that he got from that little sentence? It was like he hung the stars. Complete awe. Buck looked so beautiful, just like always but somehow that expression just complimented him so well. Why haven’t they always done this? Especially when it’s like Evan Buckley was meant to gaze at Eddie like that, with hopeful eyes and a genuine smile.

“Yeah?” Buck swallows.

“Yeah.”

He took a leap of faith and reached out to wipe a stray tear from his best friend’s cheek with his thumb. Buck leaned into the touch, grinning even wider if possible. They move together at once, both closing their eyes and pressing their foreheads together.

The city below resumed to it’s busy life, the darkness from earlier no longer being a threat to it. Eddie knows, in the very deepest part of him, that he got his partner to understand tonight. Just for safe measures, however, he breathes, “Mi familia es su familia.”

[hermannsthumb]

AT THE PARTY WEARING COSTUMES AND I KNOW WHO YOU ARE BUT I'M PRETENDING I DON'T HAS SO MUCH......THINK OF THE SIMULTANEOUS SEXINESS BUT ALSO PAIN AND PINING....... THE NEXT DAY PRETENDING LIKE IT WASN'T YOU TWO TOGETHER....BONIS IF THEY BOTH KNOW WHO EACH OTHER ARE BUT DON'T REALISE THE OTHER DOES........ BONUS BONUS IF THIS IS NEWMANN AND THEY ANGST OVER IT FOR YEARS AFTER UNTIL THE DRIFT

Anonymous said: WAIT CAM WE GET IN COATUME PRETENDING I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE

from list of halloween prompts here

okay i basically only completed the first chunk of this but i feel like the last “angsting until after the drift” is a given (and small warning in case youd consider it dub con makeouts: one character doesn’t recognize the other, while the other does and thinks he’s just pretending not to). also requires no small amount of extension of disbelief LMAO but newt and hermann are dumbasses so

——————————————–

“Hey there, cutie,” Newton says.

Hermann startles for a multitude of reasons, and not in the least because of Newton’s chosen form of address–though it is quite a bizarre choice, even for him. Mainly, it’s because of Newton’s costume, which has changed his appearance to the point of being nearly unrecognizable. His hair is teased up as high as it can go. He’s done up his face with horrendous mold-colored makeup. He’s in a filthy lab coat (definitely lifted from the lab) splattered in red corn starch and fake slime. He’s probably meant to be some sort of undead, mutated mad scientist. Hermann doesn’t really care.

“Hello,” Hermann says, and rolls his eyes. “What do you want?” It’s a Halloween party for Shatterdome personnel, so it’s not as if he didn’t assume Newton would be coming, but he’s surprised Newton’s evidently elected spend the night annoying him out of all his other options. Newton rarely misses a chance to drink hard liquor and make a fool of himself when the opportunity arises.

Newton takes the acknowledgement of his presence to mean please, encroach upon my personal space at once, and he inches close enough to Hermann that Hermann can smell the chemical chalkiness of his cheap makeup. “I just wanted to compliment your costume,” he says. “It’s mysterious. I might even say sexy.”

“You might?” Hermann says, waiting for the penny to drop, the or I would, if it wasn’t you, or even just a little just kidding–Hermann’s costume is comically simple, dark cloak with a dark hood over his normal clothing, fangs he didn’t bother to wear, meant to be some sort of vampire according to the packaging–but Newton surprises him by nudging their elbows together and fluttering his eyelashes almost demurely.

“You bet I would,” Newton says. “I dig vampires.” His eyes drag over Hermann’s body. Not that Hermann suspects he can make any of it out, thanks to the cloak. He’s bewildered by the behavior all the same. Is he intoxicated? He must be intoxicated. “What are you doing later?”

“Sleeping,” Hermann says.

Newton lets out a too-loud burst of laughter. Hermann tightens his grip on his cup, and the plastic crinkles dangerously. “Before that,” Newton says.

“Nothing exceptionally exciting, I imagine,” Hermann says. The irritation he usually feels around Newton whenever Newton is being particularly dense has already begun its onset. What is he talking about? He probably wants to rub something in Hermann’s face–some storage closet hookup, or maybe a guaranteed one later. (Look how much more action I’m getting than you, Hermann.)

“How about I,” Newton says, “take you home?”

The way he says it–the pitched voice, the hazy eyelids, the little swipe of his tongue over his lower lip–leaves no doubt in Hermann’s mind as to what he’s implying, and Hermann’s whole world whirls around him. Is he meant to be Newton’s storage closet hookup of the night? Does Newton–find Hermann attractive, like that? “Oh,” Hermann says simply.

“I know it’s fast,” Newton says, “and you don’t even know who the fuck I am–”

“Oh,” Hermann repeats. Of course: it’s a game. Newton’s playing a game. They’re strangers tonight. It makes perfect sense. It doesn’t, really, but Newton’s always doing strange things like this, so perhaps it’s merely an odd attempt at finally confessing his attraction in the most roundabout way possible. Besides, his interest has excited Hermann greatly. Hermann’d be out of his mind to let an offer like this slip through his fingers. (He is, after all, regrettably attracted to Newton beyond words.) It helps that he’s just tipsy enough for this to seem like a very good idea. “Yes,” he says, and gives Newton a wobbly smile that he expects is quite invisible under his costume.

“What?” Newton says. 

“Yes,” Hermann says, louder over the music and emboldened with the strangest thrumming of confidence. Newton thinks he looks sexy. “You and I. Let’s–”

Newton braces himself on Hermann’s shoulders and kisses him. He’s a messy kisser. Overeager. It’s as if he can’t quite decide what to do with his tongue. He tastes interesting, too, a strange combination of alcohol and candy that has Hermann equal parts recoiling and swiping his tongue against Newton’s eagerly. Newton doesn’t notice his hesitance. “Mm,” he moans. Hermann finds himself pressed against the wall; Newton’s lips–hot–go to his neck. “Yeah, this is–”

“I thought you said you wanted to take me home,” Hermann says, breathless.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Newton says. “C’mon, hurry up, I’m horny.”

Hermann wrinkles his nose. “How charming.”

Newton doesn’t turn the lights on in his messy bunk, which means Hermann must go slow or run the risk of tripping over a dozen piles of clothing, and he can scarcely keep up with Newton. “Do your bloody laundry,” he finally snaps, whacking at a pile of socks with his cane and sending them flying.

“You sound like my lab partner,” Newton huffs. He curls his hand around Hermann’s and pulls him forward to the bed. Hermann’s cane hits the ground with a little thump. “There.”

“I certainly hope I sound like your lab partner,” Hermann mumbles. He can scarcely make out Newton’s silhouette above him, but he feels himself laid against the bed, against a pile of soft cushions at the headboard, and then Newton straddling his hips and mouthing against his neck. Newton’s mouth is wonderful; pink, and soft. His stubble is wonderful, too, scratchy with just the right amount of burn on Hermann’s skin. “Ah.”

“Take that stupid hood off,” Newton says. He flicks his tongue over Hermann’s pulse point; his hand slips down to rub at the front of Hermann’s trousers. “I wanna see you better.”

Hermann agrees in a small moan. He doesn’t even care that Newton is smearing the cheap party makeup all over his skin. “Oh, Newton–”

Newton freezes. “How do you know my name?”

Of course. The game. “Mm. Apologies,” Hermann says. “I forgot we don’t know each other.”

Newton rolls off of him and fumbles with his lamp, and Hermann scarcely has time to blink at the sudden blinding brightness of the room before Newton is ripping back his hood. When his eyes adjust, it’s to see a gaping and mortified Newton above him. “Hermann?!” he squeaks. “What–why–”

“Is something the matter?” Hermann says, swallowing down no small amount of confusion and no smaller still amount of hurt. Perhaps he’s not as attractive in proper lighting. He tugs on the front of Newton’s labcoat and puts on a brave face anyway. “I quite liked what you were doing with your–”

“Fuck, dude,” Newton says, pulling away from him, and Hermann shuts his mouth. His face grows warm. “I didn’t know–I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t have–”

“Ah,” Hermann says.

He wishes he could feel humiliated, or even angry, but all he really feels is a lonely, crushing sadness. Newton thought he was someone else. Of course. Newton would never actually want– Hermann sits up with a small nod. “If you’ll excuse me, Newton.”

“No, wait,” Newton says, blinking, “wait, were you…enjoying yourself?”

“I don’t see why it matters,” Hermann says. “I will see you at work on Monday.”

“Hermann,” Newton says, but Hermann is already out the door.

[occhiolismatic]

For the dialogue prompt thingy (it was so hard to choose omg): "I'm not jealous". Starker, obviously lmao 💕

“I’m not jealous.”

“You sure about that, Mr. Parker?” Tony chimed, pompous and smug.

Peter looked at him, full of disgust and spite, wanting nothing more than to take his perfect suit tie in his hands and knock some sense into him. The truth is that Peter was jealous, and both of them knew that, so instead of replying, rather than arguing over it, Peter sat in silence, standing before Tony with arms laid out across his chest.

“Because that’s not the vibe I’m getting. Really though, your eyes, they speak for you,” Tony continued.

Rubbing his elbow, Peter shifted his weight from one foot to the other. They both stood in his room, in May’s apartment with May waiting patiently in the living for their return. Malevolent enough, the youngest of the three came home, walked in on a sweet, indulgent conversation between Tony and May, something close and personal, nice and warm, a bit too warm. Peter hated it, and after dropping his belongings on the floor, merely tossing his backpack down to his feet, he was quick to pull Tony away.

“Hey May-“ he had said, pausing at the sight of Tony sitting next to her. The two of them had been smiling, laughing, staring into each other’s eyes like they were floating, as if Peter hadn’t just walked in. It was absolutely disgusting. “Oh. Mr. Stark- what are you- hey?”

Neither of them pulled away to acknowledge Peter’s presence, and things were getting a bit.. awkward, and if Peter had to sit there any longer while the two of them gushed about the weather, he might have thrown up. “Yeah, okay, that’s enough of that.” Blood boiling and ears dusted red, Peter approached May, cuffed Tony by the back of his jacket and hauled him off of the couch, ultimately out of May’s face. Nearly tripping in the rug, Tony stumbled to gather his footing, and it all seemed fake.

He may have fallen into May’s heart, but it wasn’t mutual. She didn’t have he same effect on him that he had on her, and it was probably because of his extensive history with women, so in actuality, all things said and done, he might have felt her, but he didn’t actually feel for her.

“Mr. Parker-“ Tony began as Peter pulled him out of the room.

“Oh Peter! Hi hunny-“ May’s voice followed, “How was your day?”

“Yeah, good, enough of that though-“

“Where are you going sweetheart?”

With the roll of his eyes, not that May or Tony could see it, Peter was fuming, “Oh y’know, just, just gotta talk to Mr. Stark for a second, it’s-“

“Can’t it wait hunny?”

Peter shook his head, voice bouncing, “No, if you had let me finish, you would have heard me tell you that it’s very important.” An attitude began to seep into his tone of voice, “So no, it absolutely cannot wait.”

May’s protest continued, but Peter certainly didn’t listen, and Tony wasn’t putting up much of a fight either. With his strength, not taking into account Peter’s abilities, Tony could have stopped him dead in his tracks, grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him off the linen of his jacket, but he didn’t. Peter didn’t have to try because Tony pined after him. Disregarding May’s voice, which by the way was now faint and distant, he quickly shoved Tony down the hall and into his room, slamming and locking the door behind him.  

So that’s where they were: “Jealousy, right?” Tony smirked.

“I said it once and I’ll say it again, I’m not jealous. Why would I ever be jealous of you?”

“So to speak, its not me who you’re jealous of,” Tony nodded his head towards the wall, a reference to May whom of which politely sat in the living room  awaiting the return of Tony and her nephew whom of which so rudely ruined the moment, “It’s her.”

“I’m. Not. Jealous.” Peter vexed, narrowing his eyes. He could have asked what they were doing earlier, why they were so close, practically in each other’s personal bubbles, feeling each other’s breath through the conversation, but, unable to bring himself to do so, he tapped his foot and fidgeted with his shirt.

“Alright well,” Tony smiled, turning around to head out the door, “if you’re not jealous then this conversation is pointless.”

Similar to their first encounter, Peter was quick in stopping Tony from leaving. Of course he couldn’t web Tony’s outstretched palm to the doorknob, but if he could, he totally would have done it. Instead, with extended arms and hands, he went after Tony, closing the slightly opened door, pinning him against the wall, voice quietly uttering out a muffled and simple don’t.

Tony straightened against the framework behind him and intently looked down into Peter’s greedy yet soft eyes. He tilted his head to the side, “Or what?” he growled.

Peter hadn’t suspected Tony to retaliate, he didn’t anticipate for he cockiness in his voice, but it was oh so goddamn intimidating // but me too Peter, me too. Choked up, Peter didn’t know what to say, he honestly didn’t think that he’d make it that far, he half-heartedly expected his knees to give out, but there he was, pushing Tony Stark against the bedroom door with his aunt passively waiting on the other side.

Her footsteps had become more apparent, and she undoubtedly heard the door jump in its hinges, “Peter?”

Back arched, butt sticking out just right, Peter shuddered, sucking up any apparent nervousness in his body. Truly he was jealous. He was, there was no denying it. The only person who, in his book, was allowed to be that close to Tony was Peter himself, and he was upset about it. Holding the door shut, his free hand tangled itself into Tony’s tie, and he pulled him in real close, just centimeters from brushing lips before he lowly groaned: “Shut up.”

And then, forcing his face into Tony’s, he kissed him. It was invigorating. Peter was so mad, so angry at him, but so in love at the same time. He couldn’t get enough, his scent, the up close smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feel of his hot breath. Tony let it happen, even pushed, kissing back, gasping into Peter’s mouth. And with May on the other side of the door, approaching and calling out Peter’s name, they could easily be busted any second now.

“Peter?”

Removing his wet lips from Tony’s, he craned his neck back. “Just a second May-“

“Dear, can’t it just wait till later? Mr. stark doesn’t have a lot of time and I-“

“I told you-“ he stammered, slamming his eyes shut as Tony’s teeth sank down on his neck, swiftly flipping the two of them so that his arms effortlessly isolated Peter, simultaneously pressing his chin upwards too. “It’s- it’s- important,” he croaked, and feeling tingly inside and warm all over, Peter began to sweat. Sloppily kissing the area beneath Peter’s ear, tasting the salt of skin, licking and biting, Tony marked Peter, painted his body, wrote detailed poems on his skin like he owned him, which made sense. To Peter, Tony was his, and of course Tony knew that, and if he had to say something about it, anything at all, well Peter was his too, and he’d claim and mark what was his, what belonged to him, his property, any day.

“So,” Tony left Peter’s saturated skin for a second, coming back down to lap at his mouth before pulling away, “you’re not jealous?”