#the irresistible fic that's been consuming my brain all week

[eddiestattoos]

Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ronon Dex & Teyla Emmagan & Rodney McKay & John Sheppard, John Sheppard & Elizabeth Weir Characters: John Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Evan Lorne, Carson Beckett Additional Tags: Fluff, Team Fluff, Sickfic, Episode: s03e03 Irresistible (Stargate Atlantis) Series: Part 7 of Missed and Potential Scenes Summary: Still dealing with his cold after saving the city, John gets a chance to rest, and some love from his team

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 7 | February 7–February 13

Welcome to week 7 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #ktkvcbreadinglist, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

« Last Week

Week 8 »

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian, Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week:

The Actor and the Diplomat Playlist » Sofia and Sebastian fell hard, and they fell fast and irresistibly in love with one another with a few bumps along the way; here’s a playlist of their love.

The Sam Wilson Playlist » Sam is about to go on a mission, and he has a few songs that get him pumped up…

Bucky Barnes

(Mini) Series:

There’s a Wolf in My Heart by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Reader — When you lose your virginity on a backpacking trip through Europe to an Alpha named James you never expect to see him again. James has other plans. He’s going to make the bond permanent, whether you want him to or not. [Noncon, explicit sex and ABO dynamics, 18+] First Part: You Are The Wilderness | This two-shot is so freaking good, the smut is so good. The first part you get the inkling, Bucky maybe a little dark, but the second part just proves it!

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader — Faced with blackmail and the loss of your beloved charity, you’re forced to marry the son of your mobster father’s friend, James Barnes, in order to keep the peace between the families. Little did you know, James had fallen in love with you at first sight. As he tries to woo his new wife, a new rival family comes into play, threatening all you’ve come to hold dear. | This story, this freaking story. You know it’s honestly The Winter Ghost ( @msmarvelwrites ) for me. Where it’s not leaving my brain and I can’t stop thinking about it for hours at a time. As the story comes to the end, I can’t help but hope what looks like Bucky and Reader are getting a happy ending truly do get it, because after all they have been through they deserve it. Kat thank you for this magnificent story.

Run To You (Ch.2) by @bestofbucky » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. | Reader still won’t take shit from Bucky, also won’t take any from Sam. I can’t wait to see where my friend takes this!

One-Shots:

*When I Find You, I’ll Find Me by @river-soul » Bucky Barnes x Reader — After a 4th of July party at your friend’s house unearths some insecurities on Bucky’s part he suggests you’d be better off without him. You show him just how wrong he is. [Fluff with a little angst and explicit sex, 18+] | This is so unbelievably beautiful. I found myself crying and it was just written so well I could imagine it all happening. This is going to be stuck in my head for days to come.

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. | Sometimes when you’re having a bad day it just really helps to just stop to read a really good smutty one-shot with a Mafia!Boss Bucky in it, and this is one!

*My Sunshine by @bucksbestgirl » Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader — a song shared between you and Bucky when you’re both at your most vulnerable. | Lindsey, thank you from the bottom of my heart for writing something so beautiful. I suffer from depression and this one is close to home, and this is just something I felt everyone needs.

Sweet Dreams by @buckys-darling » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky has a nightmare and you have a proposition. | Short and sweet.

A Proper Breeding by @syven-siren » Bucky Barnes x Reader — After allowing inner turmoil to take over, you finally decide that you have wanted the same thing as Bucky all along. Once you let him know, he is sure to give you a proper breeding. | I thought I may have shared this before, but it turns out I hadn’t. Let me just say the makeup smut in this, is so good.

Dying for this love by @avintagekiss24 » Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader — Reader goes on a date to get revenge on Bucky. — This one-shot is intense! It’s so good and the smut is good, I couldn’t recommend it enough.

Birthday Blues by @bestofbucky » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Already in a rough patch in their relationship, Bucky forgets it’s readers birthday. Determined to make things better Natasha and Wanda help the reader forget and have a girls day. Will Bucky and reader makeup? | I don’t want to spoil this but the gift he gives her had me giggling for like five minutes after I read this. I thoroughly enjoyed this but honestly I really did want to give Bucky a v-8 to the forehead.

Sebastian Stan

(Mini) Series:

The Actor and the Diplomat by @elegantobservationstudentsblog » Sebastian Stan x OFC Diplomat!Sofia Alvarez — Two strangers lived in the same city, signed up for a dating app and both are reluctant to meet in person. Will they both have the courage to meet? And if they did, are they both willing to work it out? | Reader is independent and can make it on her own, but does she need to to? No. This story has Fluff, Smut, and Angst in it as well as appearances from the British Royals. I say give it a chance!

Steve Rogers

(Mini) Series:

Pseudo Princess by @shreddedparchment » King!Steve Rogers x Reader — Orphaned and alone, you’re going about your business when one day King Anthony Stark, ruler of Malibia, spots you on the side of the road. He orders you into his carriage where he explains that you are his one and only hope to keep the Kingdom from going to war with the Kingdom of Broklin, ruled by the virtuous King Steven Rogers. How exactly is it that you, a penniless peasant, can help save your Kingdom? | I’ve read this story now 3 times, and I will never, ever get over it. Everytime I go back and reread it, I find things I didn’t catch the first time I read it. I’m also just a fan of Royal!AU’s. This story has everything, Angst, Fluff, Smut, and Magic.

Chris Evans

One-Shot:

Stressed by @sunflowercaptain » Chris Evans x Female Reader — Chris Evans does something for his overworked and stressed out significant other. | It’s short and super fluffy, sort of like being wrapped in your favorite blanket after a bad day, it feels good!

Misc.

One-Shots:

Made for the Gods by @cherienymphe » Zeus!Steve x Nymph!Reader x Ares!Bucky — The God of Lightning takes what the God of War has. | Like anything by @cherienymphe that I have shared, this fic is dark and delicious! I loved it so!

The Man With A Plan. by @bestofbucky » Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes — Harmless prank war turns into feelings coming forward. | Let’s just say this is hot and for the first time writing smut, it’s so freaking good. I don’t want this to be the last of Stucky x Reader in this universe!

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | I would just like to say if you haven’t read this yet, you are really missing out, also I’m really sorry I haven’t added this to my Mob rec list. I love this and it’s by far one of my favorite Mob/Mafia stories. Also the smut and angst in this is just, *chefs kiss* I keep hoping for a third part.

Team-Building by @whisperlullaby » Bucky Barnes x Reader x Sam Wilson— You are an HR receptionist lucky enough to be around each time Sam and Bucky come in to attend their mediation sessions. They want to apologize for making you stay late one night. | I love me some Sam/Bucky/Reader stories and one-shots, especially when it’s got some really good smut, and this has got some really good smut in it. Becca thank you for ending my Thursday night on a good note.

(Mini) Series:

Five Shades of Hunnam: Part 1 ⚜️Part 2 by @hotdamnhunnam » Jax Teller + King Arthur + Will Miller + Raleigh Becket + Raymond Smith x Reader — The reader somehow accidentally summons her five dream characters all played by one of her favorite actors, from an alternative universes, to complete her ultimate fantasy, but are they up for it? | This two-shot/mini-series is hot and just so good. I have been a Charlie Hunnam fan for years, you can thank Garrett Hedlund, my Mum and my Aunt. This just blew my mind out of the park. I’m going to go take a shower after reading this.

Writing Challenges...

Heathers TV Challenge hosted by @heavenlypugpizza | What You Need To Know: Choose and actor or character from Marvel or one of the series listed (you can have more than one actor/character in your story) (2 stories limited actor or character), smut okay, ships and oc is fine, tag your stories with warnings, the deadline is March 10th!

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader)

*gif not mine//credit to the owner

A/N: Woop wooop! Helloooo my lovely peoples!! 🌸 yes I am wayyy overly excited because this part just came out so effortlessly so I am hyper af 💃💃 I am very happy to welcome you to part three, and while it may seem a little lacklustre, it’s the lead up to the final part which will be show stopping material and I hope you’ll agree 🤗 you have all been so nice and absolutely amazing about this fic and I appreciate it so much I can’t wait to bring you part four 🥰🥰🥰 but let me shut up and get to it. Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

P.S: Y/N/N = your nickname

Summary: Fantasies are shattered and dreams come true as Y/N navigates her way through this messy love triangle...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood, alcohol

PART ONE PART TWO PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

“What can I get ya?” You shout to the burly man on the other side of the bar.

“Two whiskeys and a pint of beer love!”

The buzz of the crowd continues to drown out your voice, which not only made your job unnecessarily hard, but also provided a little tune for the tiny men occupying your skull to hammer away to, so it turns out.

Little hairs lining your throat were long since singed and a dull ache seeps through the bones in your feet as you set about preparing the next round of drinks.

Quickly scanning the area to your left, a smile spreads across your face when you land on the pair of ice blue eyes you were after, his cheeky wink inspiring a new burst of energy in your overworked muscles.

That smile drops as quickly as it spreads; the once friendly and loving gaze of your best friend now replaced with a cold glare.

In the weeks that had followed your last encounter John hadn’t been near or by the house, and every time you had a shift at the Garrison he was conveniently held up elsewhere. It was the longest you’d ever gone without speaking to him and it was safe to say you couldn’t take much more.

One of these days you’d have your old Johnny back, you thought.

One of these days...

“Where’ve all the glasses gone?”

“Out there.”

Harry’s thumb jerks in the direction of the ever growing crowd, earning an all too familiar groan in response.

‘Get a job you said... it’ll be fun you said... it’s just pulling pints!’

You disappear into the sea of people grumbling to yourself, only managing to grab four empty pints before you begin to carve a route back. Your struggle - along with your mood - was only to be made worse as you near two men in the midst of an argument, the stench of beer and stale cigarettes rudely invading your senses.

“Excuse me!”

“What yerr shaying about me wife” the large man slurs, entirely oblivious to your presence behind him.

“Excuse me!”

Nothing.

“Excuse m-”

You watch, frozen in horror, as his fist connects with the second man’s jaw, sending the large brute hurtling into you.

Crashing to the ground, a pained scream tears from your throat.

Tommy - who was engrossed in a conversation with his two brothers - hadn’t witnessed you get hurt, but he definitely heard it.

He shoves his way through the crowd until he is met with your body hunched over, quietly whimpering as you attempt to dislodge shards of glass from your right palm. His eyes follow the steady stream of blood trickling down your arm and any facade he held about your relationship quickly fades away.

“You’ve hurt my girl.”

He rounds on the man responsible, nostrils flaring and lips snarling as he reaches for the deadly cap atop his head.

Despite being a good foot taller, the stranger shrinks away, vigorously shaking his head as he rushes to apologise.

“I’m so-sorry Tom real sorry. It- it was an accident I didn’t know she was y-yours ho-honest!”

“I suggest you leave.” Tommy spits out. “That goes for everyone. Leave, now!”

The once jolly punters trip over themselves to squeeze through the narrow doors. Within a matter of minutes the pub is empty and Tommy is crouched at your side inspecting the cuts.

John remains in his seat, jaw set and knuckles white, as Tommy scoops you up and disappears into the office.

He carefully lowers you onto the desk; a warm kiss lingering on your forehead as he’s tending to your injuries.

“You’re okay Princess” he mumbles wrapping a bandage around your hand. Whether he was reassuring you or himself you weren’t quite sure. But thoughts of any kind are banished from your mind as he draws you into a kiss.

His lips are chapped and salty as they move against yours. It was slow and it was sweet. It was the kind of kiss that called every hair to attention; the kind of kiss that replays in your mind as you drift to sleep.

Without warning Tommy is ripped away from you, an involuntary yelp slipping out at the sudden loss of contact. Brain scrambling to make sense of it all you soon zone in on John’s forearm tight against Tommy’s throat pinning him to the wall.

“You bastard! I warned you- I warned you to stay away from her! She’s not one of your little whores you can pick up and fuck off when you get bored. I fucking told you to stay away!”

“What do you mean, you warned him?”

The quietness that followed easily could’ve been passed off as nobody hearing your question. And it probably would’ve been, if you hadn’t seen the slight drop of John’s head.

It was physically impossible for him to ignore you; it always had been.

Tommy took this opportunity to push his younger brother away and the two men stood glaring daggers at each other, embroiled in an argument only they were privy to.

“Tommy, what’s he talking about?!” You ask your boyfriend, who was now unable to meet your eye.

Once again your question is met with silence.

“Will somebody bloody answer me!”

Your small hands ball into fists at your sides as you look between them.

John’s face softens when he finally looks at you, the confusion that passes over your delicate features serving to break his heart further.

The guilt that flashes in his eyes as he threads a hand through his hair adds to your impatience. “Well get on with it then!”

“He knew, Y/N/N, that you liked him. He knew because he read your diary. He already knew and he had it all planned out in his little fucking mind the minute you asked him for the job. Why’d ye think he said yes? I told him-” an accusatory finger points at Tom standing a few feet away “-you weren’t to be played with, and now look!”

You fail to register John lunging at Tom. You fail to register the scuffle that ensues as a result. You fail to register Polly screaming at the top of her lungs to separate the brawling idiots.

Piece by piece, memory by memory, your new found utopia crumbles between your fingers and you stand, completely oblivious to your surroundings, as everything clicks into place.

“You knew?” You whisper, inching towards Tommy.

He watches you shift from confusion to anger to disgust as the revelation sinks in, shredding through the trust he’d so effortlessly built. And he was utterly powerless to stop it.

“The whole time... you knew? When you came to me and- and asked me to... you knew?!”

His mouth opens, but the words escape him.

With a final shake of your head, your trembling figure retreats from the office; the following slam of the double doors eliciting a flinch from everyone.

The parilysis subsides, and he jams his finger into John’s chest. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Y/N wait.”

Your feet cry out and your muscles scream in protest as you storm down the cobbled road, Tommy hot on your heels. But with the searing pain in your hand creeping up your wrist, you push on, desperate to escape any person with Shelby as their last name.

“Y/N please I can explain!”

“You can explain? You can explain?!” Shrieking you finally give in to the blind rage that threatens to consume you.

“You can explain what exactly Thomas? You can explain how you violated every ounce of trust we’ve ever had? You can explain how you thought it’d be a good old laugh to have me convince the man I was hopelessly in love with to marry someone else?! You can explain how the past 7 months - everything between us - was one big lie! You don’t need to explain anything Tom, honest. It all seems pretty fucking clear to me.”

Tommy watches your hands wave and point and clap and throw themselves in the air as the anger pours out of your every word. See, it was a tough one for him really. On the one hand, he’d really fucked up and the least he could do was pay attention to the scolding he was rightfully due. On the other, you were so god-damned irresistible when you were angry it was driving him mad.

“God Tommy! I thought you were different! I actually thought you were fucking different. I thought you loved me, not as a lie, not out of fear, but honest true love. And that’s the worst part, really Tom, it’s not that you pulled the wool over my eyes, no no, it’s that I fooled myself into thinking this was actually real! I should’ve known I was just another pawn in your stupid game.”

Whirling around, you resume your getaway.

“If this was all a game, why would I have this?”

When your body slowly turns back to face him, Tommy knows the argument is done.

“What are you...” your voice trails off as you find Tom on one knee in the middle of the deserted street.

He held a little black box, and in that little black box sat a gold ring set with a diamond so flawless it remained sparkling under the gloomy skies of Small Heath, and a sapphire so blue you’d get lost at sea if you dared to stare too long.

“I do love you Y/N, have done for a while. Not as a game, not until I get bored, just honest true love.”

Tommy moves to stand in front of you, stopping inches from the tip of your nose. He takes your left hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger with ease, pausing to admire the look of the gold metal against your smooth skin.

“I had to ask you to convince John or you’d still be in love with him today, wasting away oblivious to how much you’re really worth. Yes I had a plan when this started, but I could never have planned falling in love with you-”

Chapped lips graze over your knuckles, kissing each one softly.

“-I could never have planned the amount of time I spend thinking about you in your absence-”

His lips brush over your wrist, leaving pecks along the length your arm.

“-and I could never plan the desperate need to hold you in my arms, to see your smile and hear your laugh and cherish you, because you’re the only thing in this god foresaken world that can keep the storms at bay.”

His feather-light kisses trail over your shoulder and along the curve of your neck, stopping just above your lips in an undeclared challenge. You close the distance, hungrily drawing his bottom lip between your teeth as his fingers tug at your roots, deepening the kiss.

The intoxicating taste of sweet smoke and Irish whiskey sweeps over your tastebuds and you tangle your fingers in his soft brown tresses.

Reluctantly separating a few seconds later, you’re both left panting as you make up for the lack of air. His hands make themselves at home on your waist, whilst yours settle comfortably on his chest.

“You know... I never did say yes” you smirk, twisting the gold band around your finger.

“Mm it was implied.”

So caught up in the joys of young love were you and your fiancé, that you failed to notice the wooden doorway supporting John’s weight as he watched in the distance...

[drxwsyni]

Yandere Mirio Togata x quirkless!f!Reader x Tamaki Amajiki

Anonymous asked: “I recently read your headcannons for poly yandere Tamaki and Miro. They were so good!! I was wondering if you could do a one shot about their darling escaping for over a week and is finally letting her guard down. Maybe while at the store the two yanderes finally find her. (Maybe the punishment that ensues afterward). Female quirkless reader if you will. Keep up the amazing work!”

a/n: im sorry this took so long! i have a lot of requests that are really time consuming along with my other fics right now but i swear everything that’s sent in so far will be completed. And thank you anon! I actually really like this pairing so i’m glad people are asking more of it :)

_____

Isolation      (2.3k words)

_____

One week.

Seven whole days without the smothering presence of the two so called ‘heroes’ who’d delusionally kept you under lock and key without rest.

The smiles and reassuring sentiments they offered did little to calm the fear you had for the men. No matter how much they declared their devotion to your safety and general well being, nothing could hide the undenying brutality they were capable of should you ever slip up.

You’d seen them in action before. On the news or in a social media coverage―during the time prior to meeting them―demonstrating the extent of their quirks. Their personalities were so gentle, almost as if to distract from the severeness of their abilities. And for the general public, it did the trick.

It did it for you too.

The warmth to their compassion was irresistible. The worst part about it was how genuine it was―and still is. You would be gladly basking in their affection even in the present if it weren’t for the predicament they’d placed you in after you ever so foolishly opened up to them.

The realization on their end should’ve been nothing to think twice about. It came in an idle conversation one day―the fact that you were quirkless.

They’d already grown fairly protective of you since that fateful day in which they worked together to rescue you and your coworkers from a hostage situation. But after getting to know you more, and subsequently coming across this detail, the change was like day and night.

You didn’t even see it coming. Waking up in an unfamiliar room, wrists cuffed together with a long metal chain attached, padlocked to the headboard of a king sized bed. When you found out who the guilty party of this transgression was, you knew better than to fight tooth and nail despite everything in your being wanting to.

No, it was about outsmarting them. They were stronger―so much stronger. You wouldn’t stand a chance against one, let alone both Mirio and Tamaki. It came down to biding your time.

Fighting the bile in the back of your throat, you let them have their way. The two of them were smothering.

Mirio was a little more lenient. He spent a lot of time around you, but somewhere in his dysfunctional mind was the notion that you needed your space...sometimes. His downsides came in the form of a tight grip around your frame that threatened to squeeze the air from your chest and keep it out. More than once had it left you pitifully begging him to loosen his hold even in the slightest.

As for Tamaki, he was much gentler with his affection. You were allowed the space to breath, but it didn’t mean much when you could almost never pry the man off of you when he was around. Clingy was an understatement―he treated you more like a pampered pet than an actual human.

Together, they were suffocating. You’d never seen such a display of diligence until being forced into the confines of their home. There left absolutely no room for error on their part―something you became keenly aware of.

So, rather than brute forcing your way to freedom, you resolved to lure them into trust the way they’d done with you.

The ordeal took ages, and your will to go through with your plans was ashamedly growing weaker each day. But finally you’d caught them slipping up under the pretence that you weren’t watching their every move like a hawk.

First it was the passcode to the computer in the living room―to disarm the house’s security system, the cameras along with it. After that it was a matter of getting your hands on the spare keys to the locks, both those around your wrists and the digital ones keeping the front door shut. This feat proved to be significantly harder, but one of them was bound to falter eventually.

You’d never felt so grateful to Mirio as he carelessly left his keys on the side table in the entrance in favour of scooping you up in his arms and settling on the couch with you instead. And he left them there as he quickly went to change out of his work attire in his bedroom―just enough time for you to pry the spares off the metal keyring and pocket them for yourself.

They hated leaving you alone and without supervision, a worry that Tamaki held more than Mirio, so it left the window for escape impossibly small. But you jumped on the opportunity the second it came.

For some ungodly reason neither of them picked up on the missing keys.

Your luck must have been coming to existence all at once, as not soon after they were forced to be apart from you at the same time for particularly demanding hero work―not that you cared.

You’d gone over the plan in your head just about a million times, so when the moment finally came your body acted without pause.

The cuffs fell from your wrists. The computer was unlocked and the failsafes were shut down. A backpack was shoved with supplies―clothing, money, food―and then the front door was opened. You stepped outside for the first time in months, you’d lost track of how many.

From then on it was just about running, putting as much distance in between you and that dreaded house as possible. When you finally reached the city, you didn’t even bother going to the police. They wouldn’t believe you, not when it came to two of the most upstanding young heroes out there.

Instead you went to the nearest train station, purchasing a ticket for whichever one was next for departure.

You did that a few more times in whichever town you were dropped off at until you reached the limit for how much money you were willing to spend on traveling. Now it was about holing up in some cheap motel until you could scrounge up the cash elsewhere to keep distancing yourself.

By the end of your first week you were still left with the same sum of money as you were when you got there. The weight of your fear was enough to keep you inside. But you couldn’t live off of overpriced room service and the remaining energy bars from that glorified prison forever.

As much as the prospect of leaving the safety of your room terrified you, the thought of starving to death wasn’t any more appealing. You weren’t hungry yet, but the food would only last for another day―maybe less. It was regrettably the most rational option, should you not want to run out of the little money you had.

It was supposed to be quick. There was a convenience store just ten minutes from the motel. You would grab the cheapest options there and make a beeline back to the dingy building you were stationed in.

You felt their presence before you saw them.

A large, strong arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back into a broad chest. Mirio.

And then came the visual confirmation in the form of Tamaki walking out to stand in front of you―too closely for your comfort.

“What’s our little angel doing all the way out here?” Mirio’s voice was lighthearted, but you could hear the distinct lowness, threatening.

You couldn’t move, frozen in place by gut wrenching fear.

Tamaki took both your hands in his own, a grip that could crush bones if he applied even a little more pressure. “Do you know how long it took us to find you? I-I thought―”

“But she’s here now, right? And because she knows what’s best for her she’ll be good and come home with us.” His voice was near centimeters from your ear, sending a shiver up and down your spine.

You didn’t wait this long to be free from them to just give up so easily.

“I’m not going back.”

Mirio gave your hip a small squeeze, a nonverbal warning followed by the real thing. “You know we’d never hurt you baby. Not unless you forced us.”

“B-but we’re not against hurting the people in this store. They’d never find out it was us and you know that.”

Of course, they were too smart to leave a trail back to them, or back to you. And in an instant that strong defiance you once held vanished into thin air, replaced with pure dread.

“P-please don’t do this. You don’t need to do that, just―”

“That’s right, sunshine. We don’t need to hurt anyone. We just need you to come home, you can do that for us, right?”

Like you had a choice.

The blond was already pulling you towards to exit before you could respond. Tamaki hadn’t let go of his death grip either, and you weren’t about to fight him.

Instead you kept your eyes trained on the ground, head hung as if even looking at another person might have them thinking you were about to ask for help. Tears were silently falling from your eyes as they led you back to their car parked outside the convenience store.

“We’re so glad you’re okay sweetheart. You know how dangerous it can be without us to protect you.”

Tamaki was silent as he opened the back door for you, his partner doing all the talking.

The town you were in felt abandoned, especially now that you were off to the side parking lot of the rundown store. So there was nobody to witness the two men carting you off to that wretched place they called your home.

Nobody to witness when the blonde behind you covered your face in a white rag that was alarmingly sweet-smelling.

The ride home would be long, he said. No need to put you through any more stress today.

Before you knew it your limbs grew heavy, brain muddled with inescapable exhaustion. They didn’t even give you the chance to argue over the matter, but then again, it’s nothing they hadn’t done before.

_____

It was cold―so undeniably cold.

The concrete left your body aching when you came to. Your clothing had been replaced with shorts and a tank top―showing that they were still generous enough not to leave you completely defenceless.

You were in a room you didn’t recognize, questioning whether or not the two even brought you back. It was barren: grey walls, a bucket in the corner, illuminated by a single ceiling light that you couldn’t locate the switch to. Lastly, there was the heavy metal door that served as the only exit to the suffocatingly small enclosure.

And there was no handle, or observable locks.

The only sound was that of your own heartbeat as the thudding grew more intense with each passing second.

It stayed like that for ages. Left with the company of your own mind, the isolation began eating away at you quicker than you could’ve ever anticipated.

At this point you assumed this was how they were choosing to deal with your behaviour, but the absence of that clarification was worse than the initial shock by far. It made you paranoid.

Not even the hunger eating away at your stomach was enough to distract you.

Or the extreme drought in your mouth from dehydration.

Or the sharp pain in your tailbone from having remained unmoving from your spot in the corner.

When the sound of footsteps finally could be heard leading up to the doorway, you almost thought that you were hearing things.

The lock shifted in the metal compartments, echoing off the walls.

You would’ve stood up to greet whoever was behind the doors, but the pain that was spreading down your back, coupled with the sensation of your lower limbs falling asleep long ago prevented this.

The door creaked open, and you hated that you felt an ounce of gratitude to see that it was in fact Mirio and Takami who’d put you in this god forsaken room.

The blond started forward ever so slightly while his counterpart remained at the frame of the doorway.

You still feared the men, even though they’d done nothing to physically hurt you―at least until now. So you remained huddled in the corner, arms wrapped defensively around your legs as Mirio stalked over to your form, crouching down at your side.

“You know why you're down here, right?” A rhetorical question, all three of you knew the situation well.

“We don’t want to do this, but you need to learn you can’t just run off like that.” Tamaki’s voice was quiet, like he hated locking you up more than you hated being locked up.

Out of habit you kept your mouth shut. You’d held out for this long while still retaining your sanity, what was a little longer?

“This isn’t a punishment, sunshine. It’s more like...a lesson. You’ll stay here for a bit so you can learn that what you did was wrong, okay?” He reached out and patted your head, as if that would make you feel any better.

It baffled you how he could keep a smile even when subjecting you to such inhumane conditions. But you chalked it up to insanity as clearly neither he nor Tamaki had an ounce of an idea of how wrong this was.

There was a long moment of silence, the two likely waiting for a response which you had none to give. You couldn’t fight them, or talk them out of their plans.

You should’ve ran farther.

The blond stood up from his crouched position, walking back over to his partner.

“We’ll be back in a few hours so you can eat, don’t miss us too much!” Joyful as ever, Mirio led his partner out of room, motioning to close the door before pausing.

“Just know that we love you, okay? We’re doing this for you.”

You could just barely hear Tamaki’s voice before the door slowly closed shut. There was the sound of the locks once again, falling into place.

And then the lights went out.

But you told yourself that you would get through this. You had to.

Because you were scared of what would become of you if you started to enjoy their affection.

[knifewieldingenby]

a heart’s a heavy burden, part two

part two of my incubus jaskier fic. smut with feelings 

part one  

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

“Right, and who’d want to fuck me? Any takers? Because I’m pretty sure this will create an awkward situation no matter who it is.” He was vaguely aware of Eskel and Lambert nudging each other and grinning. Geralt wasn’t smiling. He still held that shy, almost embarrassed expression, and when he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft.

“I mean, you can have me.” When he was met with silence Geralt rushed on, his words fumbling so quickly into each other that Jaskier had to strain to keep up. “You don’t have to if you don’t want - it’s just- never mind, forget I said anything.”

“I want to.”

That fire roared in him again as he thought about touching Geralt for real this time, no more late night fantasies of wondering what it would be like to strip him slowly, run his fingers over his scars, touch him in places that would make the other man gasp his name. He could really have this now. His blood felt like it was boiling for it. He wondered if this reaction was normal for an Incubus, or if this was just about Geralt. 

“Okay,” Geralt said softly. He jerked his head around to his brothers. “Out. Now.”

“Have fun,” Lambert sang. The two left. When the door closed Jaskier was met with the reality of the situation. He was going to have sex with Geralt. And maybe afterward things would be fine, maybe Geralt would go back to treating him like the annoying bard who had wormed his way into Geralt’s life, his friend alone. Or maybe he wouldn’t; maybe he wouldn’t be able to look at Jaskier without regret. 

“Geralt, if we do this I need to know that things won’t change between us. That you won’t...you won’t hate me for this.”

Geralt placed a hand on his cheek, his eyes serious. “I will never regret anything I do with you, Jaskier. You’re important to me. I want you to be okay, and you haven’t been. Let me help you fix that.”

With that he captured Jaskier’s lips in his own. Jaskier moaned into the kiss - he couldn’t stop himself from reaching up and tangling his fingers in Geralt’s hair. He tugged ever so gently and Geralt groaned, tipping his head back to expose his neck. Jaskier took that as an invitation to latch his mouth onto Geralt’s neck, to suck and bite to his heart’s content. He knew the bruises would fade quickly - too fast for his liking - and yet he still felt a sense of pride as he marked him. Maybe Geralt would never want to be his lover, but for one night he could mark the man, own his body in a way he’d always dreamed about, and pretend. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt gasped. It was better than his fantasies. 

“You like this don’t you?” Geralt nodded, his mouth hung open as he breathed quickly. “You want me to touch you, Witcher?”

“Yes, please.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure what came over him, but he grabbed at Geralt’s shirt and swiftly tugged him, flipping them over so they were laying with Jaskier on top of Geralt, his legs splayed around the man’s hips. He grinded down and groaned as he felt Geralt’s cock rub against his through too much fabric. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he purred. “So lovely underneath me. I’m going to take you apart piece by piece, love.” And oh, he did not mean for that word to slip out. He may have regretted it if not for the fact that Geralt’s eyes darkened and he ran his nails up Jaskier’s thighs.

“You’re wearing too much,” he gasped out. Jaskier chuckled, took the buttons of the man’s shirt in hand. 

“I’m afraid it’s you who is wearing too much.”

Jaskier made quick work of Geralt’s clothing. First the shirt, then crawling down his body to work his pants and underclothes off. He’d seen Geralt naked plenty of times but this felt different. He could touch him now, taste him, devour him if he pleased. And he did.

Eyes firmly locked on Geralt’s, he rested between his thighs and placed a kiss to his cock, watched in fascination as it jerked at the touch. He was big, so much bigger than Jaskier was used to, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around that beautiful cock and worship him with his mouth. He felt strong in a way he hadn’t for weeks, already feeding off Geralt’s arousal. He licked at Geralt’s cock slowly, teasingly, working the man up until he was gasping and pulling at his own hair. The sight drove him crazy. He took the head in his mouth and sucked softly at first, his tongue flicking over the hole. He was rewarded with beads of pre-cum, the taste consuming.

His brain wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t concerned with anything but bringing Geralt off again and again. He took him down swiftly, his mouth almost too small for the man, but he was nothing if not determined and lust-adled enough to work for it. Geralt filled him so beautifully, and he worked his tongue over thick veins, whining as he hit his throat. Could he…? The answer was yes, as he pressed down a little further and felt Geralt slip into his throat every so slightly.

“Fuck!” Geralt pressed his hips into the mattress, doing everything in his power to stop himself from thrusting into Jaskier’s mouth. Everything felt so tight, so perfect, so overwhelming. His senses could feel the pull of magic in the air, the weight that settled into his head that was distinctly Jaskier. Unfamiliar, and yet he felt like he’d known it all his life.

Jaskier pulled out a little, gasping for a breath he soon realized he didn’t actually need. He was made for this, made for taking everything he could and being so full of energy. He could smell Geralt’s power in the air. He pulled off completely with a pop and grinned at him.

“So good for me. Will you be a good boy for me?” It almost felt wrong speaking to the witcher in such a way, but the words were tumbling out before he could stop himself and Geralt was panting, eyes dark and fluttering.

“Yes, anything for you.”

“Anything?” He rubbed his hand down over Geralt’s balls, tugging slightly, and watched the man’s hips grind into his with glee. “I want you, all of you. Can you give that to me?” 

“P-please,” he stuttered. “You can have me, always.”

Jaskier knew he didn’t mean it. As soon as the haze of magic wore off Geralt would be back to grunting and hmm-ing at him. He would probably barely look him in the eyes. But he promised, Jaskier reminded himself. At least he would still have his friendship when all was said and done.

“I intend to.”

He dragged himself up, disappointed by the lack of contact but determined to get what he wanted. Geralt whined and made a grab for him. Oh, but he wanted him so bad and Jaskier ate it up.

“Hold that thought, dear heart.”

He hopped over to his bag and pulled out the little vial of oil that he had been rationing for his winter stay. He climbed back between Geralt’s thighs and held the vial out, making it clear what he was asking to do. Geralt sucked a breath in and nodded quickly. Jaskier smiled and wasted no time taking Geralt back into his mouth, the taste intoxicating. He bobbed his head up and down, relished in the desperate noises coming from the man. He quickly coated a finger in oil and rubbed it gently over the man’s hole. Geralt shuddered and pushed his hips down, seeking that irresistible contact.

He pushed gently and his finger slipped in with little resistance. He melted with the soft ‘oh fuck’ that escaped from Geralt’s mouth. He glanced up and took in the sight, practically (maybe literally) eating it up. His head tipped back, eyes fluttering, one hand tugging at his hair, the other skirting down his chest, down, down to Jaskier. He hesitantly touched one of Jaskier’s horns and Jaskier groaned like he’d been punched in the gut with arousal. He tipped his head, took more of the man in his mouth, and pushed his head into Geralt’s hand. He took the hint and wrapped his fingers around Jaskier’s horn, pulled him down further onto his cock.

Jaskier should have been gagging but he didn’t, couldn’t. He breathed through his nose but it felt unnecessary. As he bobbed his head he pressed another finger against Geralt’s hole and moaned as his body sucked it in without a hitch, joining the other finger to rub against his sensitive walls. He curls his fingers just so and Geralt shouted, his voice ringing out through the walls.

And Jaskier consumed it like he was parched for it. In a way he was, had known he would be missing out for several months when he agreed to come to Kaer Morhen, knew it would be worth it to be by Geralt’s side through the winter. Now it was worth it for an entirely different reason. 

He pulled off Geralt’s cock and blew cool air onto him, watched the way his body shook. 

“You love this, don’t you? You love the way my mouth feels wrapped around your cock, love my fingers splitting you open. I bet you’d be so good for me, climb into my lap and bounce on my cock like a good boy.” He grinned, licked the head of Geralt’s swollen cock. “Tell me what you want, love.”

“I- oh gods, fuck- I want you forever. I love-”

Geralt’s eyes snapped open and his body froze up, his legs closing reflexively. Jasker sat up, withdrew his fingers carefully, eyes wide, heart aching. No, he couldn’t get his hopes up, he couldn’t hurt himself like that.

“You love...what, Geralt?”

Geralt shook his head, covered his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- that wasn’t supposed to come out. I know this is just sex for you.”

Jaskier reached up and pulled Geralt’s hand away from his face. He was surprised to see the blush covering his cheeks, hurt to see the regret in his eyes.

“Geralt,” he started softly. “This was never just about sex for me. You have to know by now how I feel about you. It’s been years...please tell me you know.”

He watched the shift in Geralt’s face, the openness and, dare he say, love that filled his eyes. His body relaxed as he sat up. He looked hopeful and uncertain at once..

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now please, I beg of you, finish that sentence.”

He took a deep breath; it washed over Jaskier’s face and he could feel the shift in energy, the spark that sent his blood racing.

“I love you.” Geralt said. “And I’m yours, however long you want me.”

Jaskier smiled wide, mischievous. “Then I think I’ll keep you forever, love.”

He pressed his hands to Geralt’s chest and the man took the hint, falling back onto the bed. He let his legs fall open with him. Jaskier ate the sight up, the flush on his chest, the way his cock, having softened just a little, began to fill again. He fell back down and took the man into his mouth once more, gliding two fingers back into his hole. This time he felt the love in the air and knew it was real and all for him. He pulled away just long enough to speak his desires.

“Fuck, I want to eat you up, darling. I want to consume you, all of you.” 

Geralt groaned and arched as Jaskier worked his fingers in faster, bent them to rub at that spot in him that set his body ablaze.

“Yes, yes please, I need it. I need you!”

Jaskier smirked and pressed a third finger in. Geralt tightened around him but quickly relaxed into it. He grabbed at Jaskier’s horns again and hauled him back on his cock. Jaskier groaned, greedy for the way Geralt was tensing up. The man was whining now, loud and strained, his breathing fast and his heart racing toward a glorious finish.

Jaskier pressed three fingers against the spot and rubbed mercilessly, took Geralt deep into his throat, and that’s all it took. Geralt practically wailed as he gripped Jaskier’s horns tight and shot down his throat. Jaskier ground his hips into the bed and felt his own orgasm hit him like a storm - he’d had no idea he was so close just from pleasuring Geralt. Jaskier swallowed around him. He felt full; he felt powerful. 

When Geralt’s body slammed back into the bed he removed his fingers slowly and slid off his cock, licking his lips. He got up silently and grabbed a rag, cleaning the oil off Geralt’s skin and his fingers. The man was oddly still. He threw the rag aside and climbed onto the bed next to him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s chest and pulling him close.

“Fuck,” Geralt muttered. He wiped at his face quickly and only then did Jaskier see the tears in his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Geralt smiled through his tears. “I’ll admit this has never happened before. But it feels good. I feel good.”

“I’m glad.” Jaskier pressed a kiss to his tear-stained cheek and held him close.

He had no intention of ever letting him go.

-

tagging: @mayastormborn @disfunctionalcellmembrane @sarahdactyl666 @shrikefaerie @geraskier-trashh  @innocentcinnamonpun @swx3detfgy-blog @bunnygeneral 

[aosfangirl81]

Happy AOSFicNet2 Exchange!

Surprise, @nerdlove4thewin​! I’m the lucky recipient of your amazing prompts for the AOSFicNet2 Exchange. Thank you for the fabulous ideas!! I took your “Fitzsimmons + flirty bakery” prompt and ran with it, writing my longest fic to date! It became a little more fluffy than flirty, but I’m hoping you don’t mind! I really enjoyed trying out some new AU muscles and had so much fun writing it. Thanks again for the great prompt!

Without further ado, here you go!

How Sweet It Is...

Link to AO3

“Babes!” Daisy calls a little too loudly from across the farmer’s market. “I found the churros!” 

Fitz looks up from the organic tomatoes he was inspecting and finds Daisy waving wildly at the other end of the row of stalls. He rolls his eyes and sighs as he pays for the tomatoes, then makes his way over to Daisy, who is now walking quickly towards him.

“Churros!” she shouts in delight, clapping her hands excitedly as she approaches him. Fitz grimaces. “You know, Daisy, every time you use these cute pet names for me, everyone around us thinks we’re together….” he chastises her grumpily, crossing his arms over his chest. Daisy remains unfazed as she loops her arm into his and leads him to where she came from. “Oh, Fitzy,” she starts, “you know you love me…” Fitz can’t help but smile and loosen up as they continue walking. “You are the annoying little sister I never asked for…” he reminds her, nudging her playfully with his hip.

Daisy nudges him back and sticks her tongue out at him as she continues to direct him towards what looks to be a small bakery stand, although he honestly didn’t need her help- the smells alone were drawing him in. Just a hint of cinnamon, mixed with the distinct scent of fried dough, had him practically floating to the stand. It must be new, Fitz muses, as they frequent their neighborhood’s farmer’s market every week and he’s never noticed it before. “Churros!” Daisy announces as they arrive, using her hands to present the display of churros on the table.

Fitz’s mouth begins to water as he stares at the delectable fried treats, and he can almost taste the sugary sweetness already. Daisy turns to him with pleading eyes. “Can we buy all of them??” she begs. “Please please please??” He hears a soft laugh from behind the table and looks up, his blue eyes immediately locking with deep, soulful brown ones. His watering mouth immediately goes dry. The woman smiles warmly. “Hi, I’m Jemma. Welcome to my bakery.” Fitz stares at her outstretched hand, his brain unable to perform the most basic functions as he takes in the beauty in front of him. Dressed in skinny jeans and a soft flannel shirt with an apron wrapped around it, her shoulder-length brown hair is tied back in a messy ponytail. He can just make out a hint of freckles along her slightly exposed collarbone.

An awkward few seconds pass as Jemma waits for him to shake her hand, until Daisy finally swoops in and takes it. “Hi, I’m Daisy. This weirdo here is Fitz,” she says, giving him an exasperated look. “We live just around the corner.” Jemma smiles at Daisy. “Oh, lovely! This is my first week here at the market. I’ve been working mostly out of my apartment, just a few blocks away, doing small orders.” She looks over at Fitz shyly. “Would you like to try a churro?”

Fitz finally shakes out of his haze enough to nod. “S-Sure,” he stutters, inwardly cursing at his overt awkwardness. Jemma grabs some tissue paper and picks out a churro from the plate. As he goes to take it from her, she pulls it back, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Now,” she says faux-seriously, “you must give me your honest feedback. Consider this a taste test of sorts.” Fitz chuckles at her joke and nods very solemnly as he takes the churro. “It will be the most important job I’ve ever done,” he jokes back, adding in a wink. He looks over at Daisy, who’s giving him a strange look. Maybe she also wants a churro, he thinks. “OK, fine, I’ll split it with you,” he tells her, nodding to the churro.

Daisy shakes her head a bit. “Okaaaaay,” she says slowly, eyes shifting back and forth between Fitz and Jemma. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Fitz quickly splits the churro in half and hands Daisy her piece. They both take a bite at the same time and simultaneously groan in delight. “Bloody hell,” Fitz comments, his mouth still full. The perfect mix of cinnamon and sugar melt on his tongue as he chews on the deliciously soft, flakey dough. Jemma’s eyes light up as she sees how much they are enjoying the baked good. “Holy shit,” Daisy agrees, stuffing the rest of the churro into her mouth. “These are fucking incredible!” She pulls out her wallet. “We’re buying all of these. The other customers can deal with it.”

“Brilliant!” Jemma exclaims as she claps her hands together. “My first week and I sell out of a product within three hours. You two are by far my favorite customers.” As she reaches for a box, Fitz asks, “How did you figure out such a perfect recipe??” Jemma smiles as she packages up the churros. “A secret recipe that I’ll take to my grave.” Fitz laughs as she continues, “I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to my recipes. I spend hours and hours in my kitchen, or my lab as I like to call it, coming up with the perfect mix. I’d like to think of it as more of a science than an art, honestly.” She turns to Fitz, and he notices a slight blush spreading to her cheeks as she hands him the box. “I’m so pleased you like them.” Fitz takes the box and their fingers brush against each other, causing a small current of electricity to travel up his arm. He sucks in a breath as he looks up at her. The surprised look on her face makes him thinks she must feel it too. As he finds himself getting increasingly lost in her gaze (and not minding one bit), he’s pulled out of his reverie by Daisy pulling on his arm. “OK, hon, let’s get these home and devour them!” He swears he sees a flash of confusion in Jemma’s eyes and her smile falter just a bit, but then she shakes her head and pulls her hand away. “Of course. Enjoy the churros. Thanks so much again!” she says, waving at them as they walk away. “Be sure to visit again next week!” she continues. Daisy waves back and turns around, shouting over her shoulder, “Oh, we will!”

---

“A little eager to get to the market this week, are we?” Daisy teases as she tries to keep up with Fitz’s pace. He blushes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just excited to see what’s available this week.”

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean who’s available this week?” Fitz’s blush deepens to a crimson red. “Ah ha! I knew it!” Daisy shouts, jabbing him in the shoulder with her finger. “You have a crush on Bakery Girl!!”

Fitz stops in his tracks and wildly looks around to see if anyone heard. Thankfully, they’re still a block from the market. “Her name is Jemma, Daisy,” he whispers furiously. “Or at least call her Bakery Woman,” he chides, smiling a bit at the name. They start walking again as Daisy lowers her voice to match Fitz’s. “I knew it. I could totally sense it from that first encounter. Call her whatever you want, Fitzy. You, my dear friend, have a crush.”

Fitz scoffs. “Ha! A crush. That’s… that’s just wild, Daisy. Just… just…. just because she’s gorgeous and smart and funny and extremely talented…” his eyes glaze over a bit as he remembers their last encounter. It’s been three weeks since they first encountered Jemma and her irresistible… churros. Daisy and Fitz had made it a point to visit her each week and try different goods, striking up easy conversation between the three of them. Every time they left her stand, Fitz had a box of some new savory or sweet treat in his hand and butterflies in his stomach. There was no denying he was developing feelings for Jemma. He just didn’t know what to do about them yet. He kept waiting for an opening, some stronger indication that she was also interested, but almost every time he thought he’d found it- an extra long glance, an unnecessary touch of his arm or brush of the fingers- it wasn’t quite enough to convince him she was interested in more than friendship. But this will be their fourth encounter, and he is committed to figuring this out. He just doesn’t want his well-intentioned, but overly-helpful friend to catch on too much. She’d surely say something obvious and embarrassing and ruin his whole plan...whatever that plan may be...

Daisy smiles. “Oh my god, this is precious. You and Bakery Gir… sorry, Bakery Woman. I love it. I can’t wait to tell Trip!” Fitz looks at her pointedly. “Are you also going to tell your health nut boyfriend about all of the pastries you’ve been consuming every Sunday?” Daisy laughs, unaffected by his veiled threat. “A girl has to keep a few secrets, Fitz,” she says as she waves him off. He pulls her arm to stop her right before they reach Jemma’s stall. “Then let’s make a deal- I’m happy to keep your little secret from Trip if you promise to just leave me be when it comes to Jemma. I have a plan.” Daisy scoffs at him and rolls her eyes. “One, you’re not doing me any favors, tell Trip for all I care. And B, I’m offended that you think I’d mess this up for you. You’re surely capable of doing that yourself,” she teases. Fitz opens his mouth to protest, but Daisy stops him, “But,” she continues, “message received. You do your thing. Just remember that I call dibs as a groomswoman for the wedding,” she winks at him. He groans and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Daisy…” he warns, but she’s already walking the rest of the way towards the stall.

“Hiiiii Jemma,” she singsongs as they approach the stall. Fitz nudges her and gives her a stern look while Daisy smiles innocently. “Oh, my favorite customers!” Jemma says as she smiles warmly at Fitz. “Beautiful day for the market, isn’t it?” Daisy nods. Fitz takes the opportunity to throw a line out there to see how Jemma reacts. “I don’t know, it feels like we’ve got something magnificent right here…” he starts, throwing his best attempt at a flirty smile towards Jemma. Her nose crinkles as she smiles back at him, giving him a look he can’t quite decipher. But as soon as he thinks he has it, she breaks her gaze. “Oh, you mean the pastries!” she says, gesturing towards the trays of goods in front of her. Fitz deflates a bit. “Ah, no… actually, that’s… that’s not…” he stammers, cheeks flushing. “Snickerdoodles!” Daisy exclaims in an attempt to save Fitz from sputtering out anymore nonsense. “Look, Fitz!”

Jemma smiles at them and nods towards the cookies. “Here’s a little secret,” she starts, looking around to make sure no one else is listening, “snickerdoodles are my favorite cookie.” Daisy nods appreciatively. “They’re like churros in cookie form,” she adds. Jemma looks surprised at the comparison, “Huh. I’d never actually thought of that before, but you’re totally right,” she muses. “Maybe there’s something there for a future new baked good…” She pulls out her phone and records a quick note to herself, “Snickerdoodles and churros. Commonalities?”

Fitz feels even more affection surge through his veins as he sees her thoughtfully considering Daisy’s comment. “Uh, actually,” he starts, “I’ve never had snickerdoodles before. Growing up, my mum would always do the standard chocolate chip cookies. I used to love helping her mix the batter… and then clean the bowl with a spoon,” he says, grinning lopsidedly. Jemma looks over at him as she hands Daisy a cookie and says, “What an adorable story! I didn’t know you were such a good helper,” she says jokingly.

Fitz recognizes another in and goes for it. “Well, Jemma,” he says, concentrating all of his energy into sounding smoother and more suave than he’s ever actually felt, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he continues, lowering one hand to the table in a desperate attempt to look casual and flirty. He is too caught in the amused glint in Jemma’s eyes to notice the placement of his hand until he feels it connect with something wet and creamy… something decidedly not table-like. He chokes on a strangled gasp as he looks down at the beautiful tray of tiramisu that he had just put his hand into. He hears Jemma and Daisy both gasp at the same time. As he frantically pulls his hand away, he hits the edge of the tray with just the right amount of force to send the entire tray flipping over itself and unto the dirt ground of the market.

Shock and embarrassment flood his senses as his cheeks flush red and his hands begin to sweat. “Oooooh no….” he starts, unable to think of anything else to say, “no, no, no, no, no….” Daisy stares at Fitz, completely dumbstruck, and looks over at Jemma, who has both hands covering her mouth in shock, eyes wide. For an agonizing moment, no one says anything as they continue to look between each other and the mess on the ground. Finally, Daisy breaks the silence as she bursts into laughter. “Ooooooh myyyy godddd, Fitz,” she says, gasping for air as she doubles over. He gives a frantic look to Daisy and then looks over at Jemma, shocked to find that while her hand is still covering her mouth, she is now trying to hold back her own giggles. Fitz feels as though he’s in another dimension- how could either of them find such a mortifyingly embarrassing thing so funny??

Their laughter just adds to his frantic confusion. “How...how much were all of these?” Fitz asks, wildly gesturing to the mess on the ground. “I’ll… I’ll pay double... no, triple!” Jemma wipes the tears from her eyes as her laughter settles down. “Really, Fitz, it’s no big deal. An honest accident.” Fitz can barely hear her for the buzzing in his ears. He immediately drops to the ground, unfazed by the dirt surrounding him, and starts to clean up the now destroyed treats. He scoops the smashed, dirty cakes up on the tray and stands up, looking helpless and lost. In the distance, he hears a click and turns to see Daisy taking pictures of him and giggling. “Daisy!” he hisses, barely keeping his temper in check. “This isn’t funny!” So much for being smooth and suave, Fitz realizes. Surely he’s blown any shot he had with Jemma, he thinks dejectedly.

He feels a hand on his arm and realizes Jemma has stepped around from behind the table (the first time she’s done that, he distantly thinks). Through his mortification, he still feels a pleasant warmth in his stomach at the contact, even though he can feel the iciness of her hands through his shirt. “Fitz,” she repeats calmly and he looks into her eyes. “Breathe. It really is ok, I promise.” He starts to slow his breathing down, trying to match it with hers as his heart rate begins to slow. “I am so, so sorry, Jemma,” he whispers, unable to tear his eyes from her. “Please, please tell me how I can make this up to you,” he begs.

“Fitz, really,” she says, “it was all an accident. It’s no big deal.” Fitz shakes his head, “No, no. I don’t know much about baking, but tiramisu must take a long time to make. I insist on paying for all of them,” he says. He reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and finds nothing there. He anxiously pats down all of his pockets as the color drains from his face. “Ah…” he starts, stammering as a new wave of embarrassment crashes over him, “And…. haha, wouldn’t you… wouldn’t you know it? It seems I left my…ah… my wallet at home…” he says sheepishly, digging both hands into his (empty) back pockets and rocking on the heels of his feet. He looks over at Daisy. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to spot me, Daisy?” he asks, imploring her with his eyes to please, for the love of god, save him.

Daisy pauses for a moment in thought and her eyes suddenly brighten with an idea. “Actually, Fitz,” she starts, trying to communicate with her eyes that he should play along, “you know what would be even better? You should help Jemma make some replacement treats for next week! Work off your debts.” Certain that Jemma won’t want him anywhere near her or her… baked goods… Fitz dismisses Daisy immediately. “Um, no… I… I would surely just get in the way….” He looks over at Jemma to gauge her reaction. “Right?” he asks. Jemma smiles and shrugs. “Actually, it could be quite fun to have some helpers. And you did say you helped your mum, so I’d say you have some promise as a sous baker. Maybe this Wednesday? Daisy, of course you could come too…” she trails off. Fitz inwardly cringes as he feels himself being solidly placed in the Friend Zone. He waves goodbye to any chances he had with Jemma, consigned to his fate as being the quirky, anxious friend.

Daisy waves Jemma off. “Oh, I’d love to, but I’ve got a Trip thing,” she says. “Oh,” Jemma says surprised. “Where are you going on your trip?” Daisy gives her a confused look for a beat and then realizes the misunderstanding. “Oh!” she laughs. “No. Trip is my boyfriend. He has a work thing that I’m going to,” she says while she takes her water bottle from her bag. Now it’s Jemma’s turn to look confused. “I’m sorry, your boyfriend?” she asks, curiously as Daisy takes a sip of water. “I… I thought you two….” she gestures between Fitz and Daisy. “Are you two not together?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. “What?!” Fitz squawks as Daisy almost chokes on her water. “No. No. No, definitely not. Not at all, no, no,” Fitz says, waving his hands back and forth dramatically. “Me and Daisy?? Oh wow… just… no, no, no. I would never… I mean, wow… never….” Daisy puts a hand on Fitz’s shoulder to interrupt his tirade. “What Fitz is trying to say without insulting me too much,” she starts, giving him serious side eye, “is that we’re just friends and roommates. I’ve been with Trip for a few years now and Fitzy here,” she squeezes his shoulder for emphasis and waggles her eyebrows at Jemma, “is single and very available.” Fitz blanches at Daisy’s overtness and becomes instantly interested in the ground, fighting every instinct to look at Jemma to gauge her reaction.

Jemma’s demeanor changes as she takes in this new information. “Oh. Well, then,” she says, almost to herself, “that certainly does change things.” Fitz isn’t quite sure he heard what she said, so he looks up to find her looking at him with a shy affection. Her cheeks begin to pink a bit as she opens her mouth a few times and stops. She rolls her eyes at herself and he sees her resolve something in her head. “Well, then. Maybe… maybe it could be a date?” she asks, trying hard to look casual herself.

Fitz feels the immediate whiplash of having just accepted his fate as a friend and now Jemma’s proposition. “A…a date?” he asks, incredulously. Jemma’s smile falters a bit and Daisy hip checks Fitz and shoots a frustrated look his way. “Right!” he exclaims a little too loudly, finally righting himself into a world where Bakery Woman is actually asking him out on a date. “Yes. Yes, a date. I’d… I’d like that very much… I mean, if you… if you would like it…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck nervously with one hand. Jemma’s smile brightens. “Yes,” she says, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, I would like it very much.” She nervously tucks a piece of hair behind her ears and Fitz feels himself falling even more for her. A moment passes as they stare at each other with identical goofy grins plastered on their faces. Daisy looks back and forth between the two of them and rolls her eyes. “Sooo….this would be where you exchange numbers,” she instructs them exasperatedly.

---

Just a few days later, Fitz finds himself in front of Jemma’s door step, fidgeting with his Daisy-approved outfit of a light blue button-down shirt and dark jeans (“Fitzy, trust me. Blue is your color,” she assured him). While the fact that Jemma declared this a date settled the ambiguity of it, he still feels his nerves short-circuiting over the fact that he wants it to be perfect. Maybe perfect is an overshoot, he thinks. Just let it go well enough that she’s willing to do this again, he prays to the cosmos. Finally determining that it’s now or never, he knocks on her door and holds his breath, waiting for her to answer. When she opens the door, all the air leaves his lungs at the sight of the huge smile on her face. She’s dressed in a pair of grey jeans with a loose white t-shirt, her hair down and falling just past her shoulders. “Fitz! Hi! Right on time. Color me impressed,” she says, looking down and tucking her hair behind her ear. Fitz gives a nervous smile and shrugs. “I figured I should start earning points right away before you witness my rubbish baking skills…” He looks down and scratches the back of his neck nervously, summoning the courage to continue. “Ah…I also may have been really looking forward to this all week…” he looks up at her with a lopsided grin and is greeted with an even bigger smile. “Well,” Jemma breathes. “That makes two of us.” They wait a beat, both giving each other dopey smiles until Jemma shakes her head. “Oh dear, I’m a terrible host,” she starts, “perhaps maybe I should invite you in?” Fitz chuckles and nods. “Oh. Sure. That would be nice.” Jemma opens her door wider and Fitz steps into the apartment.

---

After a quick tour in which Fitz tried his hardest not to scrutinize every artifact he saw that would give him more insight into Jemma and her life, they now find themselves in the kitchen. They had fallen into easy conversation during the tour, which helped dissipate the nerves they were both experiencing. Fitz couldn’t help commenting when seeing some of his favorite books in her bookshelf, and Jemma excitedly engaged him in debate over various topics, including the best Doctor Who seasons. Now in the brightly lit kitchen, Fitz sees a number ingredients, bowls, and measuring spoons all lined up very neatly on the counter. He’s not at all surprised to see how organized Jemma is about her baking, and he adds it to the list of adorable traits that he finds irresistible. Jemma turns to him, smiling shyly and gesturing at the set up. “As you can see, I have a bit of a process…” Fitz chuckles and nods. “I wouldn’t expect any less, honestly. So,” he continues, “how shall I be paying off my debts of utter and complete idiocy?” She looks at him with fond exasperation as she pulls her hair back. “Honestly, Fitz, it’s no big deal. I mean, I’m not going to complain about the opportunity to invite you over…” she blushes slightly, pausing for a moment, “but truly, it’s no problem at all.” Fitz smiles back at her and another moment passes with the two of them looking fondly at each other with what Daisy would call “heart eyes”.

“So,” Jemma continues, clearing her throat, “I thought we could start a little easy this time.” Fitz’s heart skips a beat at the insinuation that she expects this to happen again. Jemma continues, “I thought maybe we could do chocolate chip cookies? Since… since you mentioned making them when you were younger, I thought it’d be good to start with something familiar.” Fitz smiles, touched at how much thought she had put into this. “Yeah,” he nods, “that sounds great. I’m much less likely to completely mess something like that up.”

Jemma laughs and Fitz decides right there that he wants to spend the rest of his days making her laugh. “Right, then,” she says, gesturing over to the flour, sugars, and baking soda. “Why don’t you combine the dry ingredients while I work on the wet ones?” Fitz nods, “Sounds good.” As he approaches the ingredients, he hears Jemma gasp, “Oh wait!” He freezes in his spot, terrified that he’s already messed something up before he even gets started. He turns to look at her. “Aprons!” she states, matter-of-factly. “We can’t do a proper baking job without them!” Fitz smiles in relief. “Ah,” he admits, placing his hands in his front pockets with a sheepish look on his face, “I may have forgotten to bring my own apron…” he trails off, not ready to admit that he doesn’t even own one. “Oh, that’s not a problem,” Jemma states, waving him off as she opens the door to her pantry. “A side effect of being a baker is that you amass quite a lot of aprons. It seems to be the go-to gift from all my family and friends. Hmmm…” she says thoughtfully from behind the door. “Ah!” she exclaims, coming out with two aprons. “I’ll let you choose,” she says, holding two aprons behind her back. “Left or right?” Fitz looks at her and pretends to mull it over. “Hmmm….” He says, stroking his chin and looking up. Jemma laughs. “Left,” Fitz says decisively. She pulls her left hand from behind her back to hold up an apron in the shape of the Tardis. Fitz laughs, his affection for this perfect woman deepening even more. “Good choice!” she affirms. “That leaves me with this.” She holds up an apron with the periodic table on the front and Fitz’s heart melts at the adorable nerdiness.

Fitz takes his apron, but then quickly recognizes an opportunity in front of him. “May I?” he asks, gesturing towards her apron. Jemma gives him a confused look. “Do you want this apron instead?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. “Oh. No,” Fitz says, feeling his cheeks warm with embarrassment over not being quite smooth enough. “I, ah, I was just thinking...if you needed help...with your apron….” he trails off. Jemma’s confusion continues, “But why would I need help with my apron? Fitz, you do know I know how an apron works, right?” Fitz gives a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes and pinching his nose, “Yep, yeah, no, of course you do,” he stumbles, “I… ah…. I….” he finally gives up and looks at her, “I was just looking for an opportunity to get closer to you,” he mumbles quickly. 

Jemma’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” she whispers. An awkward few seconds pass as they stand there, holding onto their aprons, looking at each other. Jemma then looks down at her apron. “Actually,” she says slowly, “I could use a little help…” She looks up at him, giving him a small, encouraging smile as she raises one eyebrow. “These aprons are a little trickier than they look…” she says, shrugging.

Fitz let’s out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He sets his apron on the counter and takes a step towards her as she pulls the apron over her neck. “Maybe you could help tie these?” she asks, holding the two ends of the apron tie out helplessly. Fitz, not trusting his ability to speak, simply nods as she turns around so that her back is to him. He delicately takes the two ends and ties them around her back, letting his hands rest for a moment on her waist. “OK?” he’s able to croak out. While his hands remain on her waist, she turns around in them to face him, invading his space. “Yes,” she whispers, eyes flickering down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. “You’re quite, ahem, quite good at that,” she continues, smiling and placing her hands on his chest. Fitz licks his lips as he takes a step closer, pulling Jemma closer and allowing her to slide her hands up his chest and connect behind his neck. His chest buzzes with excitement as they both instinctively inch towards each other, slowly closing the remaining space between them. As he molds his lips to hers, he inhales, noticing that even her lips taste sweet. Jemma’s hands thread through his hair as her tongue tentatively darts out to seek entry into his mouth. Fitz can’t help the quiet moan that settles in his throat as he tilts his head to the side to allow her tongue entry. He grips her waist tighter as the kiss deepens and as he begins to move her towards the counter, a sharp Bing! startles him. They both break the kiss and gasp at the sudden sound, heads both whipping towards the source. Jemma immediately relaxes and laughs, her forehead resting lightly on his shoulder. “That would be the oven, telling us it’s done preheating,” she giggles. Fitz can’t help but laugh as well, his nerves calming as he feels her laugh against his chest.

Jemma looks up at him and sighs. “I suppose… maybe we should…” she gestures over to the counter. Fitz nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, of course. That… that was nice, though,” he says, looking down at her lips again. She smiles in agreement. “Very nice. And….well… maybe we can revisit that once the cookies are baking?” Fitz nods vigorously in agreement, unashamed of his enthusiasm. “Absolutely,” he says, smiling. “Right then,” Jemma states as she moves to slowly release herself from their embrace. “Now, don’t think I’m going to take it easier on you just because you’re a fantastic kisser,” she teases shyly. Fitz blushes at the implication and before he can defer the compliment, she gives him one last quick kiss before fully pulling away.

The rest of the day consists of not-so-hidden glances snuck between the two, lingering touches, and invading each other’s space whenever an opportunity arose, and even when it didn’t (Jemma’s claim of needing to help Fitz learn the right way to stir while standing behind him and holding both of his hands to guide him was especially blatant). And, of course, as promised, the moment the cookies are placed in the oven, Jemma immediately pulls Fitz to her by his apron and crashes her lips into his. They stand there, hands roaming and tongues exploring each other’s mouths, as the cookies bake behind them. As the air starts to fill with the smell of baked cookies, Fitz dimly realizes in the back of his mind as Jemma’s hands clutch his shirt tightly that he may never be able disassociate this smell with Jemma’s sweet lips, and he realizes he doesn’t quite mind that at all. Another beep eventually breaks their makeout session and they sheepishly pull away as Jemma grabs the oven mitts to pull out the cookies to cool.

Later that night, after enjoying the fruits of their labor with one of Jemma’s favorite teas, followed by a particularly fantastic snogging session on her couch, Fitz finds himself walking home with a little extra lightness to him. Once home, he finds Daisy in the living room on her laptop. He strolls in and sets a small box of cookies next to her. “A small thank you gift for your role in setting this whole thing up,” he explains, blushing. Daisy gives him a knowing grin. “Sweet! So, when can I expect Bakery Babies?” she teases. Fitz laughs as he blushes even more and looks to the floor. “Ah, maybe we just take it one thing at a time. Date number two is dinner later this week,” he says, grinning, unable to hide his excitement. “Nice!” Daisy exclaims, giving him a high five.

“I’m knackered, though, so I’m heading to bed,” Fitz declares, turning towards his room. He hears Daisy burst into laughter behind him and turns back around. “What?” he asks nervously. “Ummm…. Fitz….” she says in between laughs, “Let’s just say there’s some evidence as to how good date number one went,” she said, winking and gesturing to his back. Confused, Fitz walks to the long mirror next to their entrance and turns around to look at his back. Sure enough, there are small, smeared flour handprints up and down his back, and two very obvious ones on his bum. Fitz immediately blushes as he thinks back to Jemma’s roaming hands. He clears his throat. “Right then…” he starts, his voice cracking. “’Night!” he finishes as he quickly retreats to his room, Daisy’s laughter following him all the way.  “Sweet dreams!” she calls after him, laughing at her own word play.

[worlds--avenged]

Professor Tom: Chapter 10

Summary: This wasn’t the first time a student had fallen for him. Hell, it wasn’t the first time this year. But something etched deep in his bones told him that she was different. Surely there could be no harm in talking to her after class… Right?

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A/N: Two. Months. Two goddamn months i’ve been neglecting this fic. I’m so sorry, y’all, time just got away from me I guess. Anyways, here’s a bit of backstory on Seb and Tom’s relationship. As always, don’t like, don’t read. 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drug use, alcohol use, mentions of sex, just a bunch of gay shit tbh

He seemed so fucking cool at the time. His carefree attitude, his apparent dominance over any room, his high alcohol tolerance. Mostly the latter, though the former didn’t go without notice. This was when he had his beard, hiding his round cheeks that rarely saw any attention more than the occasional blush. Even the way he snorted white lines was so elegantly masculine. Glamorous, even.

He’d heard whispers about him around the campus, despite only being there for a matter of weeks-- the prototypical bad boy. Bad for you, bad for himself, bad for everyone that got in his way. He was a hurricane, an earthquake, a tsunami, something so naturally catastrophic that you just couldn’t tear your eyes away from the destruction in its wake. Sebastian was the reason why the kids called it “tearing up the dance floor”, because on the off occasion he didn’t put cherry bombs in the toilets or down an entire bottle of Ciroc (the Ciroc was water) on a whim and smash the empty bottle on his skull, he would dance on any lukewarm body with a pulse and a hole in it until the sun came up. Then he would accompany the body to bed. And thus the cycle continued.

So when an invitation to a recent graduate’s party slipped under the door while Tom was finishing one of his short stories, he didn’t hesitate. He wanted to see what all the fuss was about with the man.

Poor Tom wasn’t ready when he crossed paths with Hurricane Seb.

He’d read plenty on how beautiful destruction was, written false words about the broken and the damned, but Sebastian’s damask lips on another girl’s neck was the personification of every tragic character he’d pretended to know anything about.

The only thing he had wished he’d done different was find his muse sooner.

He forgot the details-- what cologne he was wearing, how he styled his hair, what outfit he threw together to make him look like a proper college student and not an infant, but he could never forget the first time he laid eyes on Sebastian.

Tom knew it was him the moment he heard the drunken shouts of the partygoers. He didn’t hear a name, he didn’t see Sebastian, didn’t get an introduction from one of his three friends. But he knew that the figure bent over the table couldn’t be anyone but the asshole that dragged his curiosity there in the first place.

Tom caught Seb’s eye in the moment his head lifted from a plate of ten clean lines of cocaine. Seb wiped the residue off of his nose, downed the rest of what could have been peach schnapps in hooch (he was too blacked out to care), and walked over to the shy, little twink he just couldn’t take his eyes off of.

Boundaries were odd. It didn’t occur to Sebastian that he was resting most of his body weight onto the nerd pressed into the corner until Tom stumbled and Sebastian fell against the peeling wallpaper. Apparently college students didn’t have a penchant for interior design. Flurries of words strung themselves into a sentence, and somehow Seb managed to open his mouth and get the words out.

“What the fuck is a kid like you doing here?” Seb’s words quaked with intoxication, but his voice was still strong and Tom struggled to find an adequate response.

“I-I’m not a kid, actually. I’m a student.” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, taking another swig out of his plastic cup, god knew what number drink he was on. He mustered all the sobriety he could and put one neuron next to another and spark up a conversation.

“I see. You new? I haven’t seen you around. Freshmen don’t usually come to parties this early in the year unless they’re being hazed.” Sebastian’s eyes darkened and he bent down to whisper into Tom’s ear. Tom turned bright red and was reminded exactly as to why he was so intrigued with the man in the first place. Because he was hot.

“And you don’t seem like the fraternal type.” The words came out of his mouth so easily and with so much sober stability that Tom wondered if he had even consumed any alcohol. But Tom caught a whiff of his breath that said otherwise. Tequila and something sour that he couldn’t quite place. Even with the white powder dotting his beard and his eyes foggy and red from the alcohol, he had a gravitas to him that Tom couldn’t ignore. An irresistible charm that pulled everyone closer to him like a fucking magnet. Or maybe that was just his dick talking.

Tom tried to play it cool, nursing a small sip of his drink and trying to string together  somewhat coherent sentence. But considering who he was talking to, that was a tall order.

“I’m here for an assignment,” He said simply. Sebastian grinned like the cat that ate the canary and Tom felt an urge to explain himself. “English. I’m, uh, writing.”

Seb glanced at Tom with an unintended urgency that forced Tom to look away. He felt like an idiot. And Tom was the farthest thing from an idiot. The next shock came when Sebastian clapped him on the shoulder and doubled over laughing. A belly laugh, like Santa Claus in the Coca-Cola commercials.

“I meant what are you doing in this corner, dude. You should be having fun!” Sebastian insisted. He spread his arms in front of the throngs of sweaty bodies plastered to each other, grinding to a song he didn’t know. Sebastian rested an elbow on Tom and used his shoulder as an armrest. If it had been anyone else, he would have protested. But this was Sebastian and Sebastian did what he wanted and who he wanted when he wanted to. So Tom let him. Sebastian snapped his wrist flippantly and leaned in closer, as if there was anyone in his vicinity that could have heard them.

“There are a million horny girls here waiting for some dick.” Tom’s body stayed still right where it was. But every muscle, every nerve ending in him froze at the mention of sex. Tom wasn’t exactly proud of his track record with fuckbuddies, but discussing it so brazenly and so casually was uncharted territory for him.

It had occurred to him that the conversation would eventually go in that direction, but it throws him for a loop when Sebastian brings it up after barely talking to him for two minutes. But he could only be so surprised, considering that Sebastian was the one who had sauntered over to him and struck up a conversation in the first place.

“Or guys, y’know, whatever you’re into,” He shrugged and downed the rest of his beer, throwing the cup over his shoulder as a thin stream of liquid dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. He reached out a hand. “I’m Seb.” Tom felt a sudden urge to impress the man. He stood up a bit straighter, as if that would help his tiny frame against the ox of a man in front of him.

“I know,” Tom followed his lead and gulped what was left in his cup, crushing it in his hand before dropping it to the ground. Tom quickly found himself losing the upper ground as he felt the effects of alcohol overtake his body. He held on to Seb’s hand for a bit longer than what would be considered a purely orientational handshake. Sebastian looked at him expectantly and Tom suddenly forgot how to hold a regular conversation when Seb met his eyes. Words, Tom. He reminded himself. Formulate words.

But Seb’s breath was 40 proof and his smile was warm and despite being the most popular person at the party, he had decided to take pity on Tom and leave his friends for a conversation with a nobody. So it was no surprise that the shock started talking when Tom’s voice dropped and he uttered, “I don’t know what I am.”

Seb chuckled. “Well, right now, you’re with me. And that’s the only label that matters to any of these posers, anyways.” Sebastian throws an arm over his shoulder and it wasn’t just the alcohol that made Tom’s knees quake when Seb pulled him closer and steered him into the kitchen.

“Let’s get you drunk and see how many people you’ve fucked by the morning. Correct me if I’m wrong, but by my count, you’ve fucked zero people. Now, what if we gave you a shot of...” Suddenly, like magic, there was a drink in Seb’s hand. Then, it was against Tom’s lips. Then, it was being forced down his throat, burning.

(I was gonna end it there but because i’m a terrible author and i haven’t updated in an age...)

And then there was black. A few flashes of memories run through his head. Naked skin pressed against him. Music thumping in his chest with a rubber band beat. The heat. The sweat. And, of course, Sebastian. His grin, his drunken cheers, his fierce pride that had roped Tom in in the first place. But when Tom reached across the bed to search for him, he found the space unoccupied. He was just grasping at empty sheets. His eyes opened slowly, and he instantly regretted letting the afternoon light pierce through his brain the minute he blinked.He groaned and turned his back to the window, burying his face in a pillow that definitely wasn’t his own. Actually, the bed wasn’t his either. And his window at Uni was on a completely different wall. And there was no way his bed back in his dorm was this comfortable. Panic sets in quickly when he realizes how out of place he his. His body stays rigid in the bed out of fear that moving a muscle would trigger any number of hangover symptoms. The terror takes over and he sits up in bed to find himself completely naked and covered in a thin sheen of dried sweat. A wave of nausea hits him like a mallet to the temple and it takes all his might to suppress the urge to run to the bathroom and empty his guts of the poison he ingested the night earlier. He turns to the bedside table to search for his phone, but all he found was a little sign that read, “Welcome to Motel 6!” and the name of a town he didn’t recognize. The door to the bathroom swings open and Tom jumps at the movement. Sebastian stands in the door frame, wrapped in a towel, his hair wet from the shower. He chuckles at Tom’s weakened state and even the comparably quiet noise makes Tom wince.

“You look like shit.” He said simply. Tom rubbed his eyes.

“Feel like it.” Sebastian dries his hair and tosses the towel on the bed.

“Wash up. We have an appointment.”