In which Derek is the grumpy neighborhood firefighter, and Stiles is a bit of a lovestruck idiot.
Stiles winces as he turns the corner, unbearably nervous like he always is whenever he drives Lydia’s car, and pulls into the fire station. He offered this morning to help her with any errands she needed, and she asked him to take her car to the fire station and have them install the car seat. Stiles had no idea this was even a thing—seriously, how hard is it to put in a car seat?—but unsurprisingly, Lydia is as fastidious about her unborn child’s safety as she is about everything else.
He parks just outside the front door, careful not to block the big bays with the two fire trucks, and wanders inside. “Hello?” he calls out. There’s a noise coming from the other side of the fire truck, so Stiles keeps walking in that direction, then nearly trips over his own two feet.
There’s a guy, crouched down as he washes the wheel well of the fire truck, and Stiles is 101 percent sure that he’s the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He’s frowning, as if he’s pissed at the task in front of him, but it only serves to show off the sharp cut of his jaw under a very nicely-shaped short beard. He’s wearing a tight short-sleeved SFFD t-shirt, which is wet in patches and very clearly showing off the muscled physique underneath.
The guy’s head jerks up at that, his eyes wide, and his gaze locks with Stiles’ for a long second before slowly drifting down the rest of his body. Stiles damn near forgets how to breathe because yep, this impossibly hot dude is most definitely checking him out.
Stiles has never believed in love at first sight, and he still doesn’t, but as of this moment he most certainly does believe in…familiarity at first sight? Cosmic connection? Just plain lust? He has no fucking clue.
But he yelps a little in surprise, then actually manages to trip over nothing, only catching himself by clutching the pillar next to him, which oh fuck, is actually the fire pole. He finally rights himself, grimacing with both arms spread for balance, and then slaps a hand over his eyes with a plaintive groan.
“Oh my god. Hi, hello, my name is Stiles. Uh, any chance we can start over and pretend that this excruciatingly embarrassing encounter didn’t happen?”
Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Rainbow Rowell!
Simon Snow is a complete nitwit. Baz thought.
The two boys were at a standoff. Baz always knew that Simon was plagued with nightmares. Some nights the sound of the curly-haired angel of a boy would keep him up until faint streaks of sunlight drifted through their bedroom door. He had never gone off in his sleep though. This was certainly new.
“Please Baz! My spine is too fucking boney to sleep on the ground. Do you want me to be miserable all night?” He was pleading now, his blue eyes wide, accentuating his freckles.
He was standing there in their chamber looking like an innocent child in a too-tall body. He was hugging a spare blankets and a pillow to his chest. His lanky, skinny limbs looked even skinnier in his baggy Watford pajamas. All his scone eating hadn’t done anything to increase his weight. Must be the pressure of seventh year getting to him.
“As a matter of fact, yes I do want that.” Yes, get bruises all over your perfect back you idiot. That’s what you get for being so attractive.
“If you don’t share your bed I’ll make sure you’re miserable all night too!”
It was a measly threat to Baz. He was already miserable enough every night to have the Mage’s Heir tormenting him through his presence every day and night. He rolled his eyes and smoothed out a single wrinkle in his bedsheets.
“Don’t ignore me! It’s just for one night. I won’t even touch you, I promise.”
Baz fluffed up his pillow. He could physically feel Simon’s glares.
“Come on man! S’not my fault Watford doesn’t have any spare beds lying around!” There was an intoxicating electric tingle to the air. Simon was getting too worked up about this. “If I have to sleep on the ground because of you I will go off on your bed and we’ll both be cold and sore from sleeping on the fucking stone floor.”
That was certainly a threat Simon could get away with doing, despite the anathema. Damn him. Baz thought.
“Okay. Fucking fine!” It came out more harshly than Baz intended.
Simon took a step back, the threads of his magic retreating immediately. It was certainly frightening how closely tied Simon’s magic was to his emotions.
“Thanks. I promise. This is just for tonight. I’ll build a spare bed myself if it means I don’t have to sleep with you.”
Baz snorted. Simon. Building something. Now that would be something. He sighed in annoyance as he realized sharing a bed with Simon would make it extremely difficult to sneak of to drink tonight.
“I’m going to change into my nightclothes. Make yourself at home, Snow.” He said sarcasm dripping from his voice like water from a leaky faucet.
Simon nodded. He looked exhausted.
Baz went to change his clothes in the bathroom. He stared at his own grey eyes in the mirror. His pupils were dilated and if he had more blood in him, he would probably would look flushed. He felt a surge of nervousness and anticipation.
Sharing a bed with Simon Snow. Simon fucking Snow. How on bloody earth am I supposed to not kiss the moles on his neck if he is bloody next to me?
This would certainly be a long night.
Emerging from the bathroom, Baz saw Simon fixing up a sheet to work as a divider in the middle of their already small twin bed.
“What the fuck are you doing Snow?” Baz asked incredulously.
“I thought it’d be more comfortable if there was a like… physical barrier between us.”
“Whatever floats your boat you nitwit.”
Baz carefully folded his Watford sweater, placing it in a drawer, and hung up his trousers. Then he stood by his bed, eyeing a reclining Simon.
“I promise I won’t bite or go off on you tonight Baz. And don’t even think about doing anything to me. Anathema, remember.”
Baz rolled his eyes and climbed into bed. He laid on his side, facing away from the boy he wanted to kiss ever since they met. Simon had already turned out the light. It was just the two of them now. Lying side by side. Lit by moonlight.
This would be incredibly romantic if were an entirely different pair of boys. And both gay. Baz thought.
He heard Simon sigh. He could feel heat radiating of him in waves. He was so hot. Baz didn’t understand why Simon even bothered to use a blanket. He was already a walking furnace. In more ways than one. Baz swallowed, bit his tongue and did his best to repress the urge to turn and kiss the living hell out of Simon.
Moments passed in silence. Simon’s breath faded into a rhythm. But it wasn’t how he sounded when he was sleeping. More like he was relaxed.
Baz was not relaxed. It felt like every atom of his undead existence was on edge. He was going to have to spend at least eight hours lying like this with the boy he loved and wanted most lying next to him. This was all a terrible mistake.
A gentle touch and a whispered “Baz!” made his entire body flinch. The hand immediately retreated and Baz immediately wished it back.
“Blimey Snow! What the fuck do you want?” He turned to look at the boy.
It was a mistake.
Simon looked ethereal. His eyes were soft and tired. His bronze hair was silver and shone under the starlight. His lips. Crowley his lips looked devourable.
Baz swore he felt his vampire heart have a seizure in his chest. He was tingling all over. This was a mistake. He should just go stalk the Watford grounds and sleep under a tree or some shit. Even a cold Autumn night spent outside would be better than this infernal torture.
“Baz. Why are we like this?”
“Like what, idiot?” Baz spat a bit.
The bead of saliva landed on Snow’s pillow. Baz wished it had landed on Simon’s face. Then he wished he hadn’t thought that.
“Why do we hate each other?”
Baz sighed in exasperation. But some force he wasn’t entirely in control of made him turn completely onto his side and face Snow full-on.
“I don’t know! Maybe my parents hate your adopted father because he stole all that was good from our family?” Baz’s words raised in volume.
He was getting annoyed.
Annoyed that Simon looked so calm. Annoyed that they could kiss right that moment Annoyed they weren’t kissing. Annoyed that it was even a possibility in his mind. He wanted to glare at Simon. But he was so tired. And thirsty.
This was a mistake.
Simon was silent for a moment. He seemed to be studying the wall behind Baz. Then he was studying Baz’s face and time seemed to stop.
“I’ve just been thinking a lot, Baz. None of this stupid rivalry makes any sense!”
“Welcome to the real world.”
“Sure. But right now. I’m scared.” Simon’s voice was getting soft and small.
He was so small and pale and delicate in that moment. Baz felt an insuppressible need to protect him. It made his heart feel like it could burst out of his chest and fly away.
“Scared?” Baz found his voice was getting softer now too.
Why. Why? He needed more control than this. Everything that was expect from him wasn’t what he really wanted. He had to stop his feelings. But he couldn’t. He had made a terrible mistake.
“I’m scared of the Humdrum. Of losing the people I care about. Penny. The Mage. Agatha. You.”
Baz coughed in suprise. Not a sarcastic cough. A genuine “what-the-fuckity-fuck” cough.
“I’m scared of sleeping tonight because I don’t want to wake up and find that I’ve destroyed everything I love.” Simon looked almost like he was going to cry.
“Are you afraid you’ll go off again tonight?” Baz asked.
Simon nodded ashamedly. Baz didn’t really feel concerned that Simon could hurt him. He felt concerned that Simon was sad. They laid there in silence, staring at each other.
Then, then, Simon took the sheet that was separating them, cast it aside, and flung his arms around Baz. Baz was too shocked to react for a moment. He couldn’t exactly fathom how this moment was real. Slowly, he wrapped an arm back around him.
“S-simon?” He managed.
“Sorry.” He muttered into Baz’s shirt. “I think I just needed a hug.”
“You want a hug from your mortal enemy in a bed?”
Baz could feel Simon sigh in response. Then he drew back but not that far back.
“I don’t know.”
They stared at each other. Baz knew his eyes probably looked as wide as Simon’s did. What did this all mean? What was Simon trying to accomplish through this? Did he know how Baz felt and was trying to manipulate him?
Manipulation or not, whatever Simon was doing was working.
Simon’s hand encircled his and he froze.
Physically and mentally, he froze.
Baz had so many questions. So many demands to make.
Why did Simon care about him?
Why on earth did Simon think hugging the boy who had only made him miserable would accomplish anything?
Why were they holding hands in a bed?
What the fuck was happening?
Why were they not kissing?
They should kiss.
He wanted Simon to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Simon.
p>Your singlet was sticking to your chest, the sweat working as a magical glue.
“Why is it so hot?” you asked him, he sighed “global warming?” he answered laughing turning to you in the white bed.
“Can we have one conversation without a depressing topic?” you raised your eyebrow, earning a chuckle from his sultry lips. “You know what we need?” he slipped his arms around you, giving a peck across your rosy cheeks.
“Watermelon?” you asked
You and your tall boyfriend walked into the super market looking for the green and pink fruit.
You were trailing behind him until he stopped in his tracks causing you to bump into his back. “What is it?” you ask walking around him looking at the watermelon.
“15 bucks for watermelon!?” he nearly shouted, you laughed and shushed him. “You would think a kpop star could afford a 15 dollar watermelon?” you crossed your arms over your chest.
He scratched his neck before answering you “I’ve got an idea” he said walking over to the biggest watermelon he could find “Put this under your shirt” he said shoving the fruit to you.
“What!? Have you lost your marbles?” you whisper shouted at him pushing the watermelon back into his chest, he pushed back to you “do it” he commanded, you pushed the watermelon back to him again “no.” This went on for a while but eventually he won you over by giving you puppy dog eyes.
You put the watermelon up your shirt and looked into a thin mirror they had next to all of the vegetables, you gasped “So this is what it’ll look like when I’m pregnant?” you asked yourself, “If so, I think you look ten times hotter” he stated picking a grape from the table and eating it.
“Pretty sure that’s illegal” you poked him referring to him eating the grape. You walked over to the ice cream, “What are you doing?” he asked walking over to you. “We can’t walk out of here with nothing now can we?” you said picking up the cheese cake Ben and Jerry’s.
You started walking over to the counter until you felt a hand wrap around your arm pulling you back “If you’re going to look pregnant, then act like it” he laughed.
You nodded your head and started waddling like a pregnant lady towards the counter making your boyfriend burst out into fits of laughter.
“Just that today?” you heard the old lady speak up “Yes please” you smiled, your boyfriend of three years pulled out the ten dollars to pay for the ice cream. “What a cute couple you two make. How far along are you two?” she asked.
“8 months I believe” he spoke up, giving her the money. “Well, isn’t that lovely? Would you like your receipt?” she asked, you and your loved one both shook your head and proceeded to walk out.
You were so close to stealing the watermelon but of course you being your clumsy self you tripped over your own feet and fell face forward, smashing the watermelon in process, making it look like a horror scene.
“Oh My God!” the lady from before yelled, you heard screams and gasps even sobs started to come out from the crowds lips.
All you could do was look at your laughing boyfriend “C’mon!” he said in between breaths, grabbing your hand and pulling you up.
You both ran for the exit never looking back, lets just say you never shopped there again.
It wasn’t anything obvious or thought-out, but it was there. Brushing Alma’s wrist with his fingers, trailing a hand down his back, standing close enough their arms touched. Simple things.
It was a bit obvious when they were sleeping, though.
Alma had gotten so used to waking up beside Kanda, he couldn’t quite imagine life any other way. The thought of a morning without Kanda’s sleepy grumbles, steady breathing, warm hands and soft lips - it was a thought he couldn’t bear to even consider.
Alma loved waking up before Kanda, because in that space where Kanda slowly became aware was when Kanda was his sweetest.
“Good morning,” Alma whispered, tracing Kanda’s cheekbone. Kanda hummed sleepily, turning his face towards his pillow. They were lying facing each other, Kanda’s arms wrapped securely around Alma. It was suffocating at times when all Alma wanted to do was moved around until he was comfortable, but Alma would never pull away.
It was always took a long time for Kanda to wake up, but Alma treasured every moment of it.
“Did you sleep well?” Alma asked, voice still whisper-soft. Their curtains were pulled back and the morning light was gentle where it fell. His fingers came to Kanda’s chin, just pressing, and he entertained the idea of kissing him for a moment. Kanda wouldn’t quite like it then, though.
Kanda didn’t respond, didn’t even move, still slowly waking up. But his lashes fluttered just a bit, and Alma smiled.
“I did,” Alma continued, retracing Kanda’s jaw to tuck his hair back. Kanda shifted just a bit closer and Alma threaded his fingers through Kanda’s hair, cupping his head. “You’re so sleepy, Yuu.” It’s cute.
Alma let the moment last, enjoying the feel of Kanda’s hair under his hands and Kanda’s arms around him. Finally, when the light began to grow stronger, Kanda breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering open.
“Good morning,” Alma said again, just a bit louder than the first. “Did you dream?”
Kanda’s eyes flickered between his before falling closed. He sighed and tugged Alma so close that his head fell tucked under Alma’s chin, into the crook of his neck and shoulder, and his arms wrapped securely around him, holding tight. Alma simply rested his head atop Kanda’s, humming inquisitively.
“I did,” Kanda said, words muffled into Alma’s skin. “You were in my arms crying.”
There’d been many times Alma had cried, sometimes serious, sometimes nonsensical. The way Kanda said it though told Alma the entire story. “Was I?” He asked, just to say something.
“I think you were dying.” Kanda squeezed tighter, voice tight. Then, he sighed, breath hot on Alma’s skin, and loosened his grip so that it wasn’t painful. “It doesn’t matter. It was a dream.”
“I would never leave you, Yuu,” Alma said, eyes drifting to their window and at the pale blue sky beyond. “Even if I died now, I’d find you again.” And Alma meant it.
Kanda didn’t quite laugh but Alma could feel the quirk of his lips and the way he shifted his shoulders.
“Yuu,” Alma said. He loved Kanda’s name. It was like that morning sky. Like Kanda’s eyes when he first woke up, dream-soft, gentle.
Kanda didn’t respond, but he splayed his fingers against Alma’s back. The dream must’ve shook him more than Kanda wanted to admit, Alma thought.
Then, in quiet muted exhale, Kanda said, “I love you.”
Alma’s heart seized, overwhelming joy and affection, adoration and devotion - it all crashed through him, and he ducked his head, trembling. It wasn’t that Kanda never said it, but it was rare. He was embarrassed to be laid bare, and while Alma said it as often as possible, it still affected him to hear it back.
I love you, I love you. God, I love you so much.
Instead, Alma laughed breathlessly and tugged Kanda back to kiss him.
Three Wisemen and a Lemon Curd - Thirty Minutes and a Lemon Curd Christmas One Shot
It’s January 6th! The end of Christmas, for real. Better late than never on this (thanks, technology!), though, so here it is at last as a final gasp of the holiday season! Happy 2017 to all. Enjoy! x
Warning: daddy!kink… I tried to keep it out of Christmas, but, well….
Harry hasn’t touched you since you’d mentioned it.
With your family.
Technically, you’d told him as you’d straddled his lap and
he’d held onto your hips with an unblinking, nearly terrified look in his eyes,
it wasn’t Christmas. It was a few days after
Christmas, because you’d agreed to spend Christmas with Harry, Anne, Robin,
Gemma, and her newest beau ages ago.
He knows your family – he’s met them, even, several times –
but he’s not… well… it’s just… that detail about the fact that he’d deflowered
you and thrown you into a whirlwind romance that has you picked over by the
vultures of the press. He’s not been around them since that news broke.
“You’re not going to tell
them that,” you’d rolled your eyes at him. “I’d prefer if you didn’t, actually,”
you’d said while kissing his forehead to seal your request.
He’s treated you like you’re a nun or he’s a priest since
then, though. Your first semester at university had ended a few days ago, and after
not visiting you for even one weekend since the beginning of December, you’re
to spend the entirety of break with him in his flat. Anytime you sidle closer
to him or teasingly hold mistletoe above your head, though, all he does is give
you a chaste little kiss and maybe a
squeeze around the middle before mulling over the next item on the Christmas
prep list. Anything that dares to venture under the belt is swiftly nipped in
the bud as if he’s only ever had wet dreams and the thought of acting on them
makes him want to jump out of his skin. His reasoning, he’d explained to you
after the first few celibate days, is
to keep his mind focused and clean. He’d prefer not to remember your moans,
asking him to cum, please, when he’s
asking for the gravy to be passed his way at the table.
“OH MY GOSH JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ISAAC” you groaned walking away from him, although he was walking right behind you, as he laughed at your despair
“God, you’re so hot when you’re mad” he sighed happily and you turned around to look at him
“Oh yeah and I’ll look even hotter when I cut your balls off” you threaten him and he smirked as he pulled you closer by grabbing his arms around your waist
“Feisty. I like that” he mumbled against your lips, you pushed him away
“Not this time Lahey” you said as tried to walk away but he grabbed your wrist tightly “What do you want me to do?” He whispered on your ear, you turn your head to face him
“Three words. Say it and I’m yours” you sentenced, he glanced at you but no words came out from his mouth “I knew it” you sighed as you got yourself free from his grip, as disappointment filled your heart you started walking away as fast as you could
“I LOVE YOU” he shouted and you stopped, your heart pounding roughly against your chest, you gave up and ran back into his arms, you kissed him hungrily as you ran your fingers through his curly her, one of his hands was on your waist while the other held your thigh firmly against his hip.
Isaac pulled away breathing heavily “You can’t scape now” he declared smiling widely
“Y-Yusei…” Judai coughed, feeling another shiver shake his body. He pulled the blankets closer to his chest in a feeble attempt to comfort himself.
‘Ugh… It’s too hot…’ Judai thought, shifting around under the covers to try and make himself more comfortable. With a husky groan, he kicked the covers off and pushed himself up. However, he immediately regretted it as a sudden dizzy spell sent him straight back down.
“I told you not to move Judai.”
Judai whined and forced his eyes open to see the Leader of the Signers gazing at him with concern, “B-But… It’s so hot Yusei….”
Yusei sighed and placed the tray he was carrying on the nightstand, and turned back to his sickly boyfriend. He pulled off his leather riding gloves and gently placed his hand on Judai’s forehead, frowning at how warm he was.
“You’re really burning up Judai.”
Judai whimpered in response while Yusei reached for cold, wet cloth he’d brought with him. He carefully placed it on Judai’s forehead, lightly pressing it against the heated skin every now and then to cool it down.
Judai sighed and his breathing gradually slowed down to a relaxed state, causing Yusei to relax a bit himself.
He hated seeing Judai suffer, and he knew fevers were no laughing matter. Some can be incredibly painful. Luckily for Judai, it appeared as if he had made it through the worst of it now and just needed to sleep the rest off.
“I’m just going to go and get you some more medicine.” Yusei said. As he moved to stand up, he was stopped by a weak tug on his jacket. He looked back at Judai to see him feebly gripping his sleeve, gazing at him with those half lidded chocolate brown eyes.
“Stay with me. Yusei… P-Please?”
Yusei couldn’t tear his eyes away from Judai’s own, finding himself caught in their adorable yet hypnotic power. He had never been good at saying no to Judai when he looked at him like that. This was no exception.
Yusei smiled and moved his body onto one half the bed. He gently pulled Judai closer, so that his head was resting on his chest, and then began stroking his hair while his free hand took hold of Judai’s, interlacing their fingers together.
Judai smiled sleepily, nuzzling his face against Yusei’s chest as he finally felt the pain in his head and throat drift away, as if it had never been there in the first place.
There they both laid, happily together in each others embrace. It wasn’t long before Judai nodded off, tiny little snores leaving him with each breath.
Yusei restrained a chuckle at the sound, choosing instead to kiss the top of Judai’s head and whisper, “Sleep well, my little Kuriboh.”