if it's not too much, could you please write about a protagonist who is tipsy/drunk and flirts with the antagonist? if you could make it a bxb, it'd be very very grateful. love youuu ❤
"You know," the protagonist said. "You have a very kissable mouth."
"And that's you cut off."
"I'm not even drunk!" The protagonist clutched his wine closer, pointing a warning finger in the antagonist's direction.
"No?" The antagonist's voice was a low, low rumble - somewhere between amusement and danger. He leaned against the table, crowding the protagonist effortlessly into the booth. "Then what's your excuse?"
"Excuse?" The protagonist's brow furrowed. His heart skipped. His death grip on the glass loosened.
"Mm." The antagonist said, tucking a finger beneath the protagonist's chin. "Your excuse for thinking you can get away with saying something like that to me."
"Oh." The protagonist's cheeks coloured. God. He had just told his nemesis he had a very kissable mouth, hadn't he? What kind of idiot move was that? Of course, it was true. Otherwise such blatant facts wouldn't slip out while he was staring at those exquisitely kissable...The protagonist's gaze snapped back to the antagonist's eyes. He bit down on his lip, then, measuring.
Okay, yes, he was probably a little tipsy. Yes, he could probably pretend he had absolutely no idea what he was doing. But, he did. Just as he knew the words might just make his nemesis look at him like that, all dark and heated. Just as he knew the antagonist would glance at his mouth at the bite.
"You know," the protagonist said, jutting his chin up. "I wasn't really planning to get away with anything. Not this time. Thought maybe you'd find a creative way to shut me up."
The antagonist's expression flickered, no doubt registering the protagonist's intent and deliberation. The tectonic shifts of their convoluted relationship, ready to shatter the world.
"A few ideas did cross my mind," the antagonist mused, after a moment. "But, you see, given you're drunk...."
"Now you care about ethics?"
"Not ethics." The antagonist leaned in.
"Not you." The antagonist huffed, but for a moment he seemed - fond - something. "Well, you, I suppose. In a way."
The protagonist raised a brow. He leaned in, leaned up, so there was only a few inches between them. "In a way?"
"Mm. The way in which...when you end up in my bed, golden boy, you will be of clear mind and sanity, so that you can't pretend you begged my name for any reason other than that you wanted to."
The protagonist swallowed. His mouth dried. He felt a grin curl the corners of his lips; challenge offered, received and matched.
"It was just a statement of fact, you know."
The antagonist reared back.
"That you have a kissable mouth." The protagonist's eyes gleamed. "Just a statement of fact. Very objective. You're the one who took that and jumped straight between the sheets. Something on your mind there?"
The antagonist opened his mouth and...spluttered.
The protagonist's grin grew.
"I'm flattered," he purred. "Really. Now, I believe you were saying something about cutting me off-"
The antagonist grabbed him by the shirt, and kissed him.
Goddamn, but it was a kissable mouth.
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“Let me get this straight…” Triss pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re going to send a fruity pink shot called ‘Love Potion’ to the huge scary man over there in black leather surrounded by all those other scary men?”
Jaskier grinned at her. “Damn straight.” He waved the server over, but before he could place his order, she plopped that very same bright pink shot in front of him.
“From the big guy with white hair,” she explained, nodding over to that very same man, who was watching carefully.
Jaskier gave him a wink and tossed it back, heart pounding, licking his lips as it burned down his throat.
“I’m marrying him,” he told Triss, eyes locked on the man’s golden gaze.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a real potion, Jask.”
He smiled as the man stood up and began to walk over. “Just watch.”
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