#5+1

Ok, that wasn’t quite fair, because they’d known each other for years and been teasing at this for at least half that time, but it was their third official date. They were walking back from dinner, Grantaire’s fingers tangled loosely with Enjolras’s, the moon was shining, and it had been as close to perfection as Grantaire had ever felt.

So he said it.

Because he felt it, and because it was true.

“I love you.”

Enjolras didn’t say it back, but that was ok – Grantaire hadn’t expected him to. __________________________________________

II. The second time, they had just had sex. Not for the first time – hell, not for the fiftieth time, since they’d been doing this since before they got together. They’d always been better at sex than they had been at friendship, let alone a relationship. But that morning, Enjolras had turned his alarm off, and nuzzled his stubbled chin between Grantaire’s shoulder blades, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and then they’d had sex.

Lazy, familiar sex, between two people who knew each other intimately, who had mapped every plane of each other’s body and knew the other as well as they knew themselves.

And as they lay next to each other, chests heaving, Grantaire couldn’t help but blurt, “I love you.”

This time, the silence that followed felt too heavy, and Grantaire instantly regretted it. He sat up, avoiding Enjolras’s eyes, and stood for fish for his boxers. “Coffee,” he said brusquely, and left the bedroom.

He hated himself for how much he wished Enjolras had called after him. __________________________________________

III. Raised voices was a nice way of putting it. More accurately, Enjolras and Grantaire were screaming at each other.

The fight had started as something stupid and had escalated rapidly until neither could truthfully remember what started it in the first place.

Not that the reason mattered. Both men were taking out their frustration on each other, and the original reason for the fight was just a convenient excuse.

“Why do you even care?” Enjolras snapped, glaring at Grantaire.

Grantaire met him glare for glare. “Because I love you!” he snarled, pure venom lacing every word.

Enjolras’s expression didn’t change. “Go home,” he ordered, and Grantaire felt each word like a blow to his chest.

“Go fuck yourself,” he replied, because it felt better than the three words he wished he had never said. __________________________________________

IV. “I love you,” Grantaire whispered, saying the words out loud for the fourth time. 

Enjolras turned to face him, his nose just brushing Grantaire’s.

They were so close that Grantaire could see every faint freckle that splayed across Enjolras’s nose. He could see the faint laugh lines at the corners of Enjolras’s eyes, could feel his breath ghosting across his lips. 

And for one moment, he thought Enjolras might just say it.

Instead, Enjolras kissed him, capturing the sigh of slight disappointment Grantaire breathed in the moment before. __________________________________________

V. Grantaire had lost track of the dates, the sex, the fights, and the kisses. Months of perfection marred by one acute absence: Enjolras returning the three words Grantaire longed desperately to hear.

So one night, in the midst of yet another argument, Grantaire couldn’t help but challenge Enjolras, frustration clear even as his voice shook, “I love you! And you don’t even know how many times I’ve told you that! And even worse, you’ve never said it back!”

For one long moment, Enjolras just stared at him, his expression frozen. Then, slowly, he said, “The first time you told me you loved me was after our third date. I probably shouldn’t have been counting, because we’d been together without being together for years at that point, but it was our third. And I didn’t say it back because I didn’t think I felt it yet.”

Grantaire stared at him, and Enjolras continued, “The second time, we had just, uh—” He broke off, flushing slightly. “And I thought about it, but you turned away, and – I lost my nerve.”

“I can’t imagine you ever losing your nerve,” Grantaire murmured.

“You’d be surprised,” Enjolras said, a little wryly. “After all, how many times did it take for me to finally ask you out?” Grantaire just shook his head and Enjolras started again. “The third time, we were fighting, and I couldn’t say it then, even though I did – because I was mad, and I didn’t want to say it when I was mad. The fourth time…” He trailed off. “I kissed you, and it felt like the kiss said everything I needed to, and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize sooner that it didn’t. And the fifth time—”

Grantaire shook his head again, the breath catching in his throat. “Enj—”

“Provided that the fifth time hasn’t passed, I’d really like to say it back.”

Grantaire stared at him for a long moment before croaking, “What the hell are you waiting for, my permission?”

Enjolras just laughed. “Grantaire, I love you.”

“I was given to understand you were. Otherwise engaged.”

Zeb frowns at him. “Is that Imperial for getting laid?”

5 times Holmes falls asleep on Watson by catsinagraveyard

Johnlock Love Letters #2152

(Imma send this to a couple of my favorite witcher fanfic writers cause i really wanna see in which direction (angst, comedy, h/c etc) everyone will take it)

I love prompts like this!!! thank you so much for thinking of me and sorry it took me some time!!

So here be some Geraskier 5+1 (i never managed to do 5, lol, this is gonna be fun!) and because I can, this will be split up!

Please enjoy!!

(hhgjfjdks so kind wordssss hfhjd thank you!)

part:                   two    three    four    five      bonus       +1        Ao3

ONE

“It’s not what you think.” Jaskier hurries to say, before Geralt can open his mouth. “I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“So why the fuck are they chasing us, Jaskier?” Geralt asks angrily, one step behind Jaskier, making sure he is not falling behind.

“I can explain!” he pants, skidding around a building and barely avoids colliding with a wall. Shit. A dead end.

Geralt almost slams into him, and fine, fuck it. The shadows are thick from the setting sun, and it is rather dark in the alley. Jasker turns and grabs Geralts armor, backing them up as far as he can, and arranges Geralt so that he covers as much of Jaskier as he can.

Raised voices are heard behind them, a henchmen running past their little hideout without noticing them. Geralt and Jaskier are pressed together, breathing each other's air as they try to catch their breath.

“Don’t let him get away!” Someone calls.

“He can’t be far!!” Someone else yells.

More footsteps, doors slamming open and protesting civilians are heard. Jaskier listens, still pressing Geralt close to himself.

It takes him a full minute to realize their noses are touching, and when he figures that out, his heart is beating for another reason entirely.

His eyes are fixated on Geralt's lips, mesmerized when they move. He just wants to lean in and--

“So. Explain.” Geralt growls.

Jaskier licks his lips and pulls himself together.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 악마판사 | The Devil Judge (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kang Yo Han/Kim Ga On Characters: Kang Yo Han, Kim Ga On (The Devil Judge) Additional Tags: injuries, lack of self-care, Angst, Fluff, Loneliness, Hurt/Comfort, 5+1 Summary:

Geraskier | T | five times Geralt tries to tell Jaskier he loves him and one time he succeeds.

For some time after that, things return to normal and Jaskier is surprisingly quiet about his scar. It haunts Geralt's thoughts. He thinks about it during the days, especially when they're camped out and at the mercy of anything that might show up to hurt them. Geralt keeps his eyes and ears open, always alert. And even when he sleeps, he dreams about it sometimes, a nocturnal reminder that this is his fault, that if Jaskier had stayed put in Posada all those years ago, he would never have gotten hurt, he wouldn't have that terrible scar now.

And Jaskier has assured him it's nothing, reminded him that Geralt also has scars and they're a mark of survival, but Geralt finds it hard to believe. Not when Jaskier still winces when he bends at the wrong angle or when he has to apply ointment in the evenings before bed. Geralt doesn't think of it as a mark of survival because even though Jaskier did survive, he never should have been in danger in the first place. Without Geralt in his life, he could have been somewhere warm and cozy, home somewhere or in someone's bed, but instead he was in the wrong place at the wrong time because he insists on following Geralt around. Or, rather, because Geralt isn't strong enough to tell him to leave.