nose bump in the first one and the kiss in the last

Damage Control (Jackson/Stiles)

@mssmartian : Jackson/Stiles “i’m a pop star with a bad relationship rep and you’re a hot actor whose last two movies flopped, i think we can help each other out” fake dating au

For winning third place in my giveaway, I promised a fic of 500+ words. This one? Is a lot more than 500 words. Sorry? I hope you enjoy! Fic #35 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge

Damage Control. Jackson/Stiles. Teen. Also on AO3.

When Jackson’s habit of casual dating earns him the label of Casanova, his manager and best friend, Danny, suggests that he do a little damage control. Enter Stiles Stilinski, famous actor whose last two movies have apparently flopped. They already have a sarcastic flirting going on, so Jackson knows getting Stiles to fake date him is the best plan ever.

“You’ve got to do something about it, Jackson.”

“Like what?” Jackson takes a sip of his drink, frowning when the stupid umbrella bumps against his nose. He pulls it out of the glass and tosses it across the table at Danny. “You know how much I hate random shit in my drinks.”

“Which is why I always make sure to ask for an umbrella whenever I order you iced tea.” Danny smirks, and the bastard somehow manages to still look like a total sweetheart instead of an ass. It’s a skill that Jackson has never managed to master, even after thirteen years in the spotlight.

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Originally posted by utsukin

“tony,” steve sighed. “just one more? no kidding, you did 49 sit-ups.”

“hnng.” tony whined but leaned up to finish his last one. “im expecting a couple doughnuts after this.” he continued complaining and rubbing his belly as he fell back down.

steve only managed to roll his eyes for a minute before his gaze travelled down to tony’s hands kneading his work-in-progress abs. with a cough and a mischievous glint from tony, steve snapped back. “your time for push-ups.”

“mm, right.” steve hummed and putting his arms on the sides of tony’s head and putting his legs in between tony’s so that he was being sort of straddled.

steve’s first twenty push-ups were quick nose bumps with tony which made tony giggle like a girly high school teenager. then it grew into something more, becoming quick kisses to the cheeks and finally-

tony wrapped his arm around steve’s shoulders and pulling him down for a deep kiss. steve caught himself just before crushing tony’s body with his and continued to mash their lips together. breaths hot from the panting and-

boy, did tony finally enjoy these workout sessions.

Time for a story - Heartbeat

What you should read before:
Lover
Left behind
Allies
One step forth, two steps back
Realizations
Desperation
A father’s heart
The last kiss
So much darker again

Felicity. Since the first night he had been with her or maybe even before that, she had always been his first thought right after waking up. And today was no different.

And the more time passed, the more his senses woke up, and with a content smile he realized that even his senses seemed to only care about her.

He could feel her forehead resting against his temple and her nose pressing against his cheekbone. He could feel her fingers stroking through his short hair gently and her breath ghosting over his skin with every exhale, certainly leaving goose bumps.
He could smell the sweet scent of her skin and hair, her pure scent without any perfume or shampoo.
And he could hear her-

Crying?

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a first kiss of sorts

from the last best option universe (masterpost)

h and l’s first kiss at sixteen and eighteen (before harry becomes famous) <1k

Louis flicks a piece of hair out of his eyes. He’s cool. He’s so cool.

Harry blinks back at him. A baby owl. Nothing to be intimidated by. A baby owl with stupid green eyes who laughs too loud and has probably never kissed another human being before in his whole life.

Not with tongue anyway.

Like, he’s only sixteen and he likes boys. When Louis was sixteen he’d never kissed anyone outside his family. Surely Harry can’t be more experienced than he was.

Louis at 18 definitely has the upper hand. His palms should not be so sweaty. He’s got this in the bag. On lock. Harry is his.

Harry’s the one to step closer, though, and their noses bump. More evidence of his inexperience.

Harry’s laugh echoes down the hallway, bouncing off lockers and linoleum.

“You were amazing. Stole the show. Best performer out there,” Harry tells him.

Louis shakes his head. “You did.”

Harry presses their foreheads together and his eyes cross as he tries to hold Louis’ gaze.

“You should have tried out for the X Factor with me.” Before Louis can protest that he had tried out, the year before, Harry adds, “Again, I mean. You’re so good. So charismatic.”

Louis huffs out a laugh. “Ha.”

Harry bites his lip. Then, he draws a shaky breath. “I think I’m going to kiss you.”

“No, you’re not,” Louis replies, voice soft.

A stricken look crosses Harry’s face so Louis closes the distance between their lips. He’s in charge here; he’ll be the one to do the kissing, thank you very much.

That strategy lasts him all of five seconds. The five seconds it takes for Harry’s hands to find his ass and pull the two of them flush against each other.

Boy moves quickly. Maybe not quite so inexperienced after all.

Louis pulls back, gasping for air.

“Oh my god.” Harry’s eyes are wider than ever. HIs fingers flex on Louis’ bum and Louis wills himself not to get hard.

(Yeah, right.)

“Name’s Louis, not God,” Louis says. It’s stupid. He’s sure it’s from some dumb movie, but Harry laughs all the same.

Harry licks his lips and shakes his head. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since auditions. You were wearing that jumper and I just wanted to touch you so badly.”

“Touch away,” Louis chokes out the invitation. Because who is he to stop a boy from living his dreams.

Harry leans in and this time there’s not even a question. Harry is doing the kissing. His hands are roaming all over Louis’ body and his mouth is biting and tugging at Louis’ own.

When they pull apart, Louis says, “Aggressive.”

Harry’s eyes, which are now more black than green, widen once more. “Too much? Is it bad?”

Louis shakes his head. “I like it rough.” He sounds confident. Like he’s had it rough and not so rough. Like he’s some sort of aggressive kissing connoisseur.

The truth is that he’s never really been kissed before- he’s always done the kissing, and he’s never been anything but gentle and tender.

That’s how he thought people liked it, like from what he’s seen in romantic comedies and soaps.

Rough kissers always seemed a bit dickish to Louis.

Harry does not seem dickish, though, not at all. And Louis wants another kiss or maybe a hundred more kisses.

So he leans in again and Harry doesn’t hold back, walks Louis straight back to the wall, so that the back of his heels and then his bum and shoulders and head meet concrete. Harry kisses him hard, fingers and teeth and chest digging into it, into Louis.

He pulls back and lips shiny with spit, murmurs, “Rough like that?”

Louis sinks his nails into Harry’s back and scratches the length of it. Harry shudders.

“Yeah,” he says. He thinks he could feel the outline of Harry’s hard cock against his hip. He wants Harry to move in again, closer, so he can know.

Harry remains inches away, their only point of contact his hands on the underside of Louis’ ass.

“I’ve not really done this before,” Harry admits, voice nearly a whisper. “Not with someone I really liked. Definitely not, um, rough.”

Louis swallows. Be bold. Be confident. Stay in control. “That’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Understatement of the century.

“Good,” Harry replies.

Someone’s phone vibrates.

“We’re late to the cast party,” Louis tells him.

Before Harry’d interrupted, Louis’d been trying to fix his hair into something softer, less styled than his stage do, using his locker mirror.

“You’re the star,” Harry replies. “The party doesn’t start till you arrive.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re going to give me a big head.” He can already feel his ego inflating to about ten times the size it should rightly be.

“Good,” Harry retorts. “Then it’ll match your–” He squeezes Louis’ ass.

Louis leans in for another kiss. He keeps it lighter, sweeter, than their earlier exchange and breaks away when Harry’s hands slip into his back pockets.

Harry’s wrong.

Louis can already tell.

Harry is going to be the real star.