#also the fact that i managed to draw individual teeth without making him look incredibly uncanny

[arom-antix]

Here's Yuuri by himself because he's the bestest of boys and deserves some spotlight

Viktor spotlight

Full drawing

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Lunar New Year Gift for muckkles!

For @muckkles, I hope you enjoy this!

*****

Pearls Dissolved in Vinegar 

It isn't Wei Ying's fault. Lan Wangji was very firm on this matter.  

When they were young, Wei Ying's habit of flirting with everyone in range had driven Lan Wangji off the wall. When he was gone, Lan Wangji had occasionally thought that he would happily watch Wei Ying flirt with every woman in a hundred li if it meant he were alive.  

When Wei Ying did, in fact, somehow, miraculously, return to him, Wangji didn't doubt for a second that it was a trade well worth making. Which did not stop watching his beloved charm strange women from being extremely irritating.  

Since the Guanyin Temple--since everything had come out in the open--since Wei Ying had become his, his, his--Wei Ying's flirtatious behavior with others had diminished. Not...ended. Not completely.  

Wei Ying was just so friendly. And absurdly trusting of others' intentions, for someone who had been through everything he had, although possibly that was just his self-esteem issues surfacing again, leaving him unsuspecting that his brilliant smile was enough to inspire intent upon his virtue. Whatever shreds of it remained after Lan Wangji's very thorough and very much appreciated campaign to remove it, in any case. Regardless of the reason for his husband's obliviousness, Lan Wangji found that having his beloved did very little to quell the prickles of his jealousy.  

Admittedly, it hurt less. Knowing that Wei Ying was his and any encouragement of others' attention was obliviousness and not intent, the fire that roared within him when anyone else dared to lay appreciative eyes on him was warm and free to be acted upon, not cold and futile and needing to be suppressed with all the Lan self-discipline in his possession.  

Wei Ying yelped as Lan Wangji lifted him bodily from where he was chattering with a fruit-seller--dispensing loquats of all things, which certainly didn't help even if the connection couldn't reasonably be said to be the fruit-seller's fault. He threw his husband over his shoulder and stalked off towards the inn where they were staying for the particular night-hunt they had just completed.  

People gave the two of them askance looks as they passed by, Lan Wangji carrying his husband over his shoulder as though that was a thing people just did, face unreadable to these strangers, Wei Ying keeping up a light chatter of insincere protests and (decidedly not obliviously) flirtatious complaints. No one, however, dared to do anything, perhaps due to their collective or individual reputations, perhaps due to the fact that Wei Ying was really very bad at pretending he wasn't delighted by his husband's outrageous behavior.  

The innkeeper looked for a moment like he might be about to do or say something, but then he hesitated, and when Lan Wangji swept past with Wei Ying, the two of them were not followed.  

Lan Wangji threw Wei Ying down onto the bed as soon as they reached their room, pausing only to close and lock the door behind him.  

"Oof," Wei Ying said as he hit the bed, then pouted in a way that made Lan Wangji want to take his lower lip between his own teeth immediately. "Lan Zhan, what was that? Do you think that just because you're so strong you can manhandle this poor husband as you please? Have you no--mmf!" His disingenuous protests were cut off as Wangji followed his earlier impulse with a kiss that started out as a savage bite before turning softer and more probing, relishing in the wet heat of Wei Ying's mouth and the warm line of his body under him.  

"I can't believe people think I'm the one who's shameless," Wei Ying gasped when Lan Wangji let him breathe again, in what Lan Wangji supposed was the most genuine complaint he had issued since he had physically removed him from the produce stall at the market.  

"Mn," Lan Wangji said noncommittally, nosing his way down Wei Ying's jaw and neck. Wei Ying giggled and gasped, and something in Lan Wangji's chest purred smugly at his ability to draw these sounds from his husband.  

"You scoundrel," Wei Ying said fondly as Lan Wangji temporarily stopped mouthing lasciviously at his collarbones in order to redirect his attention to the ties holding Wei Ying's robes shut. Wei Ying actually disliked it when Lan Wangji destroyed his clothes too often when they were on the road, so Lan Wangji nobly refrained, even when he really wanted to, so that he would have the leeway to do so when he really really wanted to. Ideally, any night passionate enough to result in serious sartorial damage would also be passionate enough that it wouldn't occur to Wei Ying to consider the state of his clothing until the following morning. 

Lan Wangji was not yet ready to rule out that kind of night, but for the moment he was just barely patient enough to manage to get his husband's top off the long way. Fortunately, Wei Ying wore very few layers when the weather meant he could get away with it.  

As soon as Wei Ying's chest was exposed enough, Lan Wangji latched onto his nipple with more teeth than lips, drawing an approving hiss out of his husband as he arched up into it. His other nipple barely had time to feel neglected before Lan Wangji's hand came up to pinch it, twisting viciously.  

"Mean," Wei Ying panted. "My husband is so mean to me!"  

"Mm," Lan Wangji hummed contentedly.  

"So mean," Wei Ying said with a pout that showed off his swollen lip, a sight that set the smug and purring thing in Lan Wangji's chest off all over again. "My husband kidnaps me off the middle of the street and brings me back to his lair to ravish me in the middle of the day!" 

"Mn," Lan Wangji agreed.  

Wei Ying tipped his head back. "Ahh...there's no way for me to get free...I'm completely helpless, my husband is too strong..."  Wei Ying could absolutely have gotten free if he really wanted to. It never failed to give Lan Wangji a thrill that he did not.  

Lan Wangji pulled the ribbon from his head, surging upwards to capture Wei Ying's hands above his head, tying the ribbon around them and to the bed beneath. Wei Ying moved cooperatively underneath him. Lan Wangji kissed him again, harsh and sweet and full of so much love.  

Wangji pulled away for a moment, over Wei Ying's nonverbal protest, to yank Wei Ying's trousers off. He fell back upon his husband immediately, kissing him greedily and groping him enthusiastically.  

"Ahhh, no," Wei Ying sighed huskily, pushing his ass back into Lan Wangji's hand. "No...ah, I'm completely overwhelmed...there's no way I could stand up to the great Hanguang-jun." 

Lan Wangji gave his ass an extra squeeze before releasing the handful of cheek he had captured and bringing his hand center-wards, sinking one finger into Wei Ying's hole as Wei Ying pressed back eagerly into his hand.  

"Ah, ah, my husband is so cruel, he's going to do me without any kind of oil," he said. Lan Wangji wasn't sure whether he intended this as prediction or command, but either way he sounded plenty enthusiastic about it. Wangji obligingly added a second finger, gaining a number of delighted protests of "Mean!" 

Lan Wangji moved on fairly quickly from two fingers to three, and then he was lining himself up and sinking inside in one stroke.  

"Aa-ah!" Wei Ying cried, head thrown back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. Lan Wangji bent down to bite it, teeth sinking in around the protrusive Adam's apple. Wei Ying moaned in pleasure as Lan Wangji thrust roughly inside him. Part of Wangji wanted to nail Wei Ying to the mattress with full force and speed immediately, but he held back for the moment in order to make it last.  

"Lan Zhan, please...ah, ah, so mean," Wei Ying pleaded.  

Lan Wangji sped up a little, his thrusts rocking Wei Ying's body as he once again abandoned his pursuit of covering the entirety of Wei Ying's body with teeth-shaped bruises to grab his face for a frenetic, fantastic kiss.  

If Lan Wangji were truly trying to do so, he could have held out for hours. But right now he had other concerns, such as staking his claim on Wei Ying's body in every way possible, including a few that were slightly implausible. When he finally came, after fucking his husband to orgasm three times in a row, he simply lay there, head on Wei Ying, reveling in the feeling and the smell and the sheer ecstatic knowledge of him.  

"Not that I'm complaining," Wei Ying said, serious this time, "but what was the reason behind this little interlude?" Lan Wangji buried his face in one of Wei Ying's shoulders, savoring the cozy connection and marshalling his words. 

"The fruit seller," he said.  

"The one I was talking to when you grabbed me? What about her?" 

"She was flirting with you."  

Wei Ying broke into peals of laughter. Lan Wangji would have been more concerned by the possibility that Wei Ying was laughing at him if it wasn't such an incredibly beautiful sound.  

"Ah, Lan Zhan, I'm a handsome man," Wei Ying teased. "I can't help it if I attract a few admirers."  Objectively true. And yet.  

"Mine," Lan Wangji said firmly.  

"All yours," Wei Ying agreed softly, and the two settled in for a good long snuggle.  

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Picture Perfect. || 5

Two Ghosts.

Previous Chapters.

Once again, Harry and I failed to express the fact that we kissed, actually, did more than a simple kiss.

The flight from Chicago to the Hamptons was far from quiet, to say the least. Harry had lots to say, so did I, but none of it had to revolve around the fact we ruined our friendship by sleeping between the sheets and doing things friends don’t do.

Maybe it is for the best we don’t bring up our one night stand, a one night stand that I gave him hell for the night before when it was him and some other woman. To say the least, this trip, which is halfway over, has been more than I could have ever bargained for. If only pictures could capture the moments between us that weren’t so, modest. Maybe then we wouldn’t be dancing around something that is brewing between us. There is undoubtedly something going on, clearly since neither of us seems to bring up the facts.

The hustle and bustle of airports have never really been my thing. I am not like Harry who can race through the airport terminals without much worry in the world. I am more of the type to want to take it slow and breathe for a moment.

I appreciate taking in my surroundings and the air of a new place, despite how weird that may sound. I guess you could say I prefer to live in the moment and not let it pass me by because I am too busy hurrying to the next moment that is significantly bigger. Perhaps it is the writer in me; I want to welcome the touch of the ocean at my feet in the most rejuvenating way and feel it stir my soul, I want to inhale that unique yet satisfying scent of an airport that I can never figure out; I want to feel everything in every inch of me.

“What are you thinking?” Harry distracts me from my thoughts as we stop right at baggage claim, I look up at him with a small smile. I admire his bright eyes that seem to shine perfectly with the lighting and his hair that is messy from the early flight.

I lift my shoulders into a delicate shrug, “how you hurry through airports like they’re forbidden ground.”

I draw a chuckle from Harry’s lips, oh those lips. How satisfying they are to kiss and taste.

“Well, to me, all airports are the same. Seen them all a thousand times.”

“You have, I haven’t.”

Harry nods, “You calling me selfish?” he benevolently nudges me as we both keep a look out for our bags.

Before I can respond with a chuckle and a sly remark that is bursting of nothing but playfulness, Harry steps forward, “I got it,” he murmurs before pulling my bag off of the conveyer belt and placing it beside me.

I sense his unforeseen shift in mood the second he takes a second look at me and his jaw clenches, within a blink of an eye, the large baggage claim area feels incredibly small and brighter. “I’m sorry, Mia.”

“For what?” I challenge before my eyes follow his stare to behind me.

It sinks in, my best friend- who isn’t just my best friend- has a whole other world that I haven’t lived, a world I tend to forget.

They’re standing there, like vultures ready to get their meal, cameras and notepads in their hands, phones held up as though they’re at a zoo and witnessing their favourite animal leap from tree to tree.

My hand wraps around the handle of my suitcase and Harry runs his hands through his curls before he is massaging the back of his neck and narrowing his eyes onto the swarm of individuals, who are undoubtedly waiting for him. He lets out a heavy sigh and drops his hand to his side, “now you see why I get the early flights or the late night flights.” His tone is bitter and not necessarily with me but in general.

His fingers lace with my own and he pulls me closer to his side, “keep your head down and ignore them, they’re just prying pests.”

“Harry, I am a journalist, just like them.”

“You don’t wait for people at airports or follow them.” … “Don’t start on this, please.”

I drop the comments and do as he requests– keep my head down and ignore what’s happening around me. I overlook the flashes that appear to get brighter and brighter with each photo taken; I ignore the questions, the words and the whole ‘girlfriend’ saga they are attempting to produce. I neglect the pounding in my chest and the sweatiness of my palms, I overlook all of it.  

Meandering our way through the congested area to where the private car is parked feels more like having to shuffle through a lion’s den… with a container of fresh meat in my hand.

In the least dramatic way possible, it is honestly horrible, not because of the questions, statements and the flashes, but mainly because it dawns on me that this is his life, this is what he deals with and why he doesn’t like airports, it is like a cage for him.

Although for me this feels like an invasion of my privacy and a way to spark up my slight issue with anxiety and congested spaces, what is also known as claustrophobia, this is more than just that to him. This is an invasion of his privacy, himself and most importantly it is what he has grown to live with. The flashes don’t seem to bother him, the questions go in one ear and out the other and the smile on his face, although fake, doesn’t move an inch.

It is like he has this covering that only I can see through. To the prying eyes of those around us, this smiling, bright-eyed man is their next tabloid and money marketing significance, they can’t see that his smile is faked, his eyes are dim and the creases under his eyes aren’t from a lack of sleep but a lack of comfort in this moment. They can’t see the covering Harry is using as a shield. And that—that is what is hurting me the most.

What I thought was a never-ending mob of people, eventually put me at rest and left us alone the moment we managed to get ourselves to the car. The driver opens the door and Harry takes my bag from me, “get in, love.” Harry instructs, gesturing for me to slide into the car.

“I can put my bag–“

He cuts me off, not to claustrophobia be rude by any means, “Mia, please.” I can tell by the tone of voice he’s not in much of a mood to be challenged on any level, even if it is just my way of not having him do everything for me. I nod and grant him his wish to slide into the car.

I press my back against the coolness of the leather seats and I take a breath, a breath that feels like it has been prolonged and much needed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I forgot how to breathe in that brief moment from the baggage claim to the car.

Harry slides in beside me and the door closes behind him, he looks at me and clears his throat, dead silence sweeping through the car like an unrelenting hurricane that isn’t going to let up.

‘Comfortable silence is so overrated.’ — I wish Harry would repeat his own line and put it to good use every once in a while.

“I’m uh– I’m sorry about that. I had hoped it wouldn’t happen. I should have hired security, I was naive and jus—“

“Shh.” I press my finger to his lips as I shake my head.

I don’t need or require his apology, I am aware none of this is his fault, he can’t control some of the things that happen. It comes with the territory of being a well-known singer who is private and keeps the world on their toes. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal.”

“It is… I shouldn’t have put you in the position for this to happen, you don’t like small spaces and crowds. It’s not fair to you to have to put up with some of my shit.”

“You remembered that I don’t like crowds?”

He blinks at me for a moment, as though I have asked one of the dumbest questions known to man.

Just because we are best friends, it doesn’t mean he has to remember every detail about me. I think I only mentioned my crowd and claustrophobia to him once. “Why do you think you’re in the sound box area when you come to my concerts or you’re backstage? Because of the crowds. Contrary to popular belief, I do pay attention.” … “I’m jus’ sorry you experienced a small mobbing at an airport. I feel like I owe you unconditional apologies because they’re going to happen every now and again.”

I shrug my shoulder, “eh, come with the territory of being friends with a world sensation.”

“Alright, none of that… I see you smirking.”

“I mean, it’s true. You’re a heartthrob, Harry.”

“Christ. Alright, that’s enough.” Harry chuckles, finally breaking the odd tension that has been sitting between the two of us.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, why?” Harry questions as he leans back and lets out a breath of relief.

“Well, I know you have this cover over you. You seem perfectly fine on the outside but on the inside, you’re probably a bit… eh.”

“Eh? Is that the best you can do?” He’s teasing, as usual. It’s his way of telling me he doesn’t really want to discuss the topic I am attempting to allude to. He has never really been one to openly express his thoughts and feelings unless it is through music— Even then, it’s still cryptic and hard to piece together—  Figuring him out is like trying to do a puzzle without realising there’s one piece missing you’ll probably never find.

“Eh, is a very good descriptive word.”

Harry nods, “Yeah, I’ll expect to read that in your next article.”

“You don’t read my articles.” I roll my eyes and Harry scoffs.

“Jus’ like you don’t listen to my music.”

“I don’t.” We all know I’m lying through my teeth, but that’s not the point I’m making here.

“Uh-huh. Then we are even. I don’t read your articles and you don’t listen to my music.”

“Well, we can call it even.” I grin, a little curious about whether he really does read my articles or not. Perhaps he reads a few here and there when he gets time, which is rare, the man barely gets time to himself.

*** ***

“So, are you on the prowl for a New York girl?” I question in an attempt to start up a conversation that has gone dry. I don’t like the quiet silence between us at the moment. This time it isn’t even comfortable silence.

Harry lifts his shoulders into a brief shrug, “not sure, love.” … “Been texting Olivia, the one from Chicago.”

“Oh, a budding romance?” I benevolently nudge him playfully, a little curious about what is rattling around that brain of his.

“Couldn’t tell ya, maybe,” he shrugs again, “instead of going to the aquarium, I thought we could appreciate the warm weather outside.”

I nod in agreement, “I would say that is a good idea, I need to write anyway.”

“What are you writing about?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, unaware of what I need to write about for this article.

I have yet to find much inspiration.

Much like Harry, I strive to draw inspiration from my own personal experiences and moments, it’s how I uncover some of my best work and manage to connect with who or what I’m writing about. I steer away from the influential headlines regarding celebrities, mainly because I don’t want to get caught in that crossfire with Harry. I know the personal struggle he goes through with being publicised at times he doesn’t want to be and being pulled apart and dissected with every move. I bounce around with my freedom of writing, tackling different topics and genres, mainly attempting to find what clicks the most.

The car comes to a complete stop and when I get out; I am surprised that we are not at the hotel like I expected. I glance towards Harry, slightly confused.

“It’s the perfect spot, quiet enough to not be disturbed but loud enough for you to draw ideas to write something.” He gestures towards the area in front of me.

I take in the view of what essentially consists of withered grass that is still a golden shade spread out over small hills while the sound of an ocean echoes in the background. “We don’t have to stay here, we can go somewhere—“

I cut him off, “I like it.” Truth is, I’m not just saying it because this seems like the kind of area Harry would love to relax in, but because I genuinely feel connected to the simplicity and the private side of what is offered.

I clutch my bag from the car and Harry clutches his journal before I follow him in wandering through the grass. “What about the driver?” I question.

“He’ll stay where he is. No need to worry.”

“There aren’t any snakes, right?”

Harry turns to gaze at me and raises a brow, “ye kidding right?”

“Of course!” I giggle nervously.

I’m not kidding. Not even remotely.

Harry rolls his eyes, “come on, Mia.”

I follow Harry over the small hill before he settles himself down, “Well, sit, relax, do your thing.”

“My thing?” I softly ask while I rest down in front of him and draw my bag to assemble on my lap.

“Do what you do best. Besides being a pain in my ass.”

“I’m not a pain in the ass.”

“There you go again being one.” Harry winks with this charming little smile that I can’t possibly stay annoyed at.

I roll my eyes at him, “I saw that, Mia.”

“I wasn’t trying to be discreet, Harry.”

Harry shrugs and gives me that cocky smile of his before he pulls out his camera.

To be honest, I kind of love how he is documenting certain aspects through the lens of his camera.

It’s kind of a twist of events with irony. He hates the spotlight and the cameras at a time, but he loves the feel of a camera between his two hands.

“Smile.”

I shake my head and sigh, well aware that he is going to pester with this damn camera of his, “No.”

“Smile, Mia.”

“Don’t start with this.”

Harry pouts his lips, “please?”

I shake my head. Although he seems to disagree, I am not apart of this journey of his. I’m not apart of the love finding or the thrill of documenting pictures. I am not part of the scenery around us.

*** ***

I glance down at my phone and read the email from my boss followed by the next article that will be printed.

Instantly, I stand up, “Just need to make a call.” I mutter, marching away from Harry to call my boss.

“Hello, Ms Mia, I thought you would call.”

“Mr.Williams, that article, although excellently written, is not necessary.”

“Ms Mia, I respect your opinions but I sent you the article as a heads up. This article is being published in the next five minutes.”

I sigh heavily and run my fingers through my hair, “ Mr Williams, the article is false.”

The line goes silent for a moment before he clears his throat, “Whether it is true or not, the article will be published. This is the publishing industry, we write the truth and sometimes what resembles like the truth; welcome to the world of the media, Mia.”

“I know this is the industry… But don’t you think publishing something that isn’t sincere and something that will damage someone’s reputation is unfair?”

“Perhaps, but it comes with the territory. I know you and Harry are close, that is why I sent it to you so you weren’t blindsided. This is business, Mia. This article puts food on the table for me and for you too.”

“I know, but it isn’t fair on him to suffer.”

“I know, just like I know you’re emotionally invested in this topic which is why I thought you at least deserved a heads up before being blindsided.”

“Well, be expecting calls from his publicist team.”

“Without a legal team, nothing can be done. Mia, just let it go, okay? How is your piece going?”

“It is going well… I need to get back to it. I will keep in touch.”

And with that, the phone call is over. I stare out into the distance and take a deep breath, my head swirling with how the hell I am going to drop this bombshell on Harry.

I wander back towards Harry and I gaze over towards him, his head is bowed to stare at his journal as his legs are sprawled in front of him. “Hey, Harry?” He gazes up at me and nods, gesturing for me to continue. “They’re running a story on you.”

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug, “you know I don’t feed into that.”

“I know…” … “I think you should take a look at this,” I inform Harry and he shrugs.

“Darling, I really try to ignore all of that. How’s the writing coming along?” He changes the subject and I sigh while my eyes glance at my phone. “from your lack of response, I assume not well?”

“I just— you need to look at this.“

Harry rolls his eyes and I hand him my phone with the article.  "Oh, wow, I am in the title. Big fucking deal.”

“Read it, Harry.” I raise my voice insignificantly, trying not to come off as too bothersome or frustrated.

I see his jaw clench and his eyes shift from my phone screen to me. They’re opaque, they’re burning with this sort of anger that doesn’t reveal very often. “Really? Is this your way of getting back at me?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you fucking write this? Did you tip them off to the one night stand to teach me some sort of fucked up lesson?” His voice is increased and his eyes continue to darken.

If they were knives, they’d have cut me in several ways.

I stare at him for a moment, shocked that he is even attempting to accuse me of publicly outing his personal, sex life to the media.

“Harry, are you really accusing me of doing that to you?”

“It is your fucking place of work, not mine. I wasn’t the one that told them and you’re the only other person who knew!” Harry’s voice intensifies and he grits his teeth before his lips screw into irritation. To say the least, he is fucking furious.

I am not sure whether I should be pissed or disheartened at the fact that he thinks so low of me to actually out him and his life. We have been friends’ for so long that I never thought he would accuse me of such a thing. I would never do such a thing, even if I despised him and he did a shameful act towards me. He should know me well enough to understand that I would never drag him down for any purpose, not publicly or privately.

“If you honestly think I would do such a thing, you clearly don’t fucking know me.”

“Maybe I don’t. You were the only one to know about it.”

I roll my eyes as I grab my bag, “You’re a fucking prat.”

He seems taken back by my comment. It is rare for me to actually get mad at him and allow myself to resort to foul language. But, he has no right to accuse me of something he knows little about. “Excuse me?”

I stare down at him. “You heard me loud and clear, moron.” … “You’re literally a daft halfpenny.” Don’t get me wrong, he is such an intelligent man but he sometimes becomes so dim.

“How am I the one being the prat?”

“Hey, wanker, your one night stand or your slag was probably the one who went to the media,” I inform him before I storm away and make my way back towards the car with Harry hot on my heels.

I politely smile at the driver as he hurries over to open the door for me, I nod my head as a thank you gesture before I slide in and relax against the leather seats.

It isn’t long before Harry’s body is right beside my own and that horrid silence that has been following us around makes itself known. Ever since last night, it seems as though things keep going downhill, it is kind of like Sod’s Law—  whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.

I am starting to believe this trip is proving to be more of a struggle than a stress-free environment for the two of us.

“Mia, I probably should have handled that better, I shouldn’t—”

“Just be quiet, yeah?”

“Mia.”

“Harry, I don’t want to fucking hear it. Until you’re not being a wanker, don’t bother.” I grouse, comprehending him well enough to know he hasn’t entirely calmed down from the whole matter.

He is a level-headed man, don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t blow up too often, but when he does, I know he doesn’t calm down as promptly as people assume he would for his nature. I know he is currently stewing on the fact that his one-night stand has publically humiliated him by selling her story to the journalists. I know that he is probably pissed with himself and with the industry as a whole.

*** ***

The rest of the car ride to the hotel was quiet, neither Harry nor I uttered a word. The moment Harry handed me my hotel key I was gone. I locked myself away in my hotel room.

While watching re-runs of Friends, my phone vibrates against its position on the bed. I glance over at it and roll my eyes. I still don’t care for what Harry has to say, a phone call isn’t going to change that.

I allow the phone to continue vibrating while I attempt to pay attention to the television. But it proves to be harder than I anticipated.

I despise quarrelling with Harry, I hate ignoring him and I hate being in this position where I don’t really know what we are.

Are we friends? Are we more?

There is this void between us that we appear to leap around. I know we shouldn’t have ruined the friendship by getting between the sheets in Chicago, but I can’t change that now. I don’t see us being anything more than friends, we have two opposite worlds we live in. Although we work well as friends, as lovers… well, we wouldn’t have much of a chance. We would destroy each other, I don’t think we are good for each other’s souls.. Even if we do happen to have something between us, it isn’t enough to withhold the storm of ‘Harry & Mia.’ We make great best friends but mixing things into a romance would be hell. For crying out loud, the man thought going on a trip for fun would somehow find him a lover. Like his soulmate is just somewhere floating around here.

He is continuously off touring, locking himself away in studios and doing new projects and I am writing while attempting to find myself. I’m not where I want to be— something is missing— I am not like Harry who has his ducks in a row, I barely have mine in the same fucking pond. I just- we are in two different parts of our lives with career choices and everything. In a sense, I earn money off of his publicity- which is the main reason for our argument at the moment.

I assume he resents me for working in the part of the industry that plays on his reputation as an artist and as a person.

The hotel phone begins to sound and I groan as I lean over and grab the phone, “Hello?”

“Before you hang up, hear me out.” Harry’s voice blares through the phone and I profoundly lament, “I’m sorry-”

“I am not interested in one of your shitty, half-assed explanations.”

“Mia, can you meet me in the lobby in an hour?”

“No, I am busy.”

“Mhm.. watching friends can wait until later. I can hear the theme song playing every thirty minutes. Meet me in the lobby, dress nicely.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I would appreciate if you would let me apologise.”

“Fine, this better be good,” I mutter before I hang up the phone and stare up at the ceiling.

What am I even doing? Lying here coming up with excuses for why we wouldn’t work out as lovers, for fuck’s sake, we probably don’t even have feelings for each other besides the friendly ones that people talk about.

*** ***

I step off the elevator and my heels echo against the marble flooring of the lobby. I grin to myself as I observe Harry donned admirably in suit pants and his black button up.

I welcome his eyes as they scan me up and down— in a way, I feel him undressing me with his eyes— it carries me back to last night when his fingers undressed me and danced across my skin and the way my brazen hands ran over his bronzed body of beautiful edges and planes.

His beguiling, turquoise-green eyes catch my own and I can’t help but smile, all anger dwindling away. He has this charming appearance that melts my heart and conducts a blissful state to overcome me. There is something about his eyes. The way they glimmer excellently and become the pathway to his soul. A path I aspire to travel every inch of and discover. I don’t know what it is, but it is there. He may just be my best and worst mistake that I desire to make over and over again.

He takes a breath and distracts me from my impromptu thoughts, “well, don’t you just look beautiful.” He flashes me that captivating smile.

“You look handsome, Harry.”

“Thank you,” he nods, “are you ready? I thought we could eat at Wharfside and The Sandbar. Unless you don’t want to? We can eat anywhere you want.” He comments with a bit of a stutter, part of him coming off as nervous, but I disregard it.

“That seems great,” I assure him instantly, chuckling slightly at him.

He rolls his eyes playfully and he gestures his head towards the glass doors before I see a change in his facial expression, he becomes stunned. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he saw a ghost.

I turn and follow his eyes, to my surprise, he has seen a ghost— a ghost of his past.

There she is, her 5'10 self with iridescent, malachite-green eyes, Nordic-gold hair and legs that ease about the room with a balletic grace. There she is, the girl I have heard quite a bit from the past, the girl Harry has probably spoken about the most with me, Nadine.

My jaw drops, not because I am astounded she is here, after all this is the Hamptons, but because Harry never emphasised how fucking beautiful she truly is in person. And here she is, wandering over here with the most angelic grace one could think of.

I take the brief moment to gaze up at Harry to witness his eyes glowing brighter than earlier and his lip twitching.

It doesn’t take me long to realise she is the one he wants.

I respectfully smile as she stands in front of us, “Harry, I didn’t know you were on this side of town.” She approaches sweetly.

Fuck, even her voice is sublime.

“Hi, Nadine. Yeah, just in for the night. Nadine, this is Mia, Mia this is Nadine.” Harry introduces us.

“Hello, nice to meet you.” I smile as I embrace the woman who has Harry’s heart. The woman who I think just broke my own.

“Likewise, Mia. Jus’ wanted to say hi, sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting,” I immediately assure her. “We were about to go get food, would you like to come?” I offer without thinking.

Bloody mouth, it should have kept shut.

She gazes at me for a moment with a wide grin, “I couldn’t possibly intrude.”

“Nonsense, you’re not intruding.” I shake my head.

“Uh, if it is okay, sure.” She glances towards Harry, requiring his approval.

He nods without saying a word, just smiles at her.

I can see it, I see it clearly— he wants her— she wants him. Inviting her to dinner is the right thing. They’re clearly the lost souls that need finding— they’re two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty.

Maybe she is one he was meant to find on this journey?

[thewhiterabbit42]

Blog Appreciation Round 1

Part 2 of 4: @lacqueluster

Not only is this lovely lady an amazing writer but she is one of those amazing individuals who goes out of their way to leave feedback for fellow writers / artists.  She’s such a positive and encouraging person and she has made this community an incredibly welcoming place.  She also  co-manages another blog @gabriel-monthly-challenge that has helped fellow Gabe lovers find inspiration and share their work.  If you’re a Gabe / Sabriel fan and haven’t checked out her fics, I highly suggest you do.  You won’t be disappointed.

@lacqueluster, thank you for being the awesome person that you are and for the amazing fics you share with us.  Your grasp of characters is spot on, I love the humor you use, and your smut is hot as hell.

As requested, here is a little sexy / fluffy Sabriel for you.  Hope you enjoy!

Title: Here to Stay

Tags: brief smut, fluff

Summary:  Gabriel has a surprise for Sam that turns out to be more than what it seems.  

Word Count: 2952

Author’s Note:  Lots of thanks to my beta, @omgreganlove.  

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.  Reblogging is ok.***

“You want to talk about it?”  Dean asked, catching Sam’s attention as they headed down the hallway.  Just when the youngest Winchester thought he had made it.  He had managed to dodge his brother’s looks the entire ride back, but it figured the man would wait to ambush him when he was in the homestretch.    

“Talk about what?”  Sam thought he was convincing enough.  The way his brother continued to stare at him, however, suggested he would not be winning an academy award anytime soon.  His gaze drifted down sideways, briefly falling on his door.

God he was so close.

“I mean, I could pretend not to know, but it’s hard to ignore you when you’ve been flashing your ‘brooding and pensive’ shoulders the entire ride back,” Dean continued, only half-teasing.  

One would have thought for an Almighty Creator, Chuck would have been a little more talented in the writing department.  

Sam did the only thing he could, which was to brush the comment aside with a breath of a laugh.  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the concern.  The resulting lecture that would come from learning his shoulders were a result of a certain archangel?  Not on his agenda tonight.  Any night, really.  

There was also a good chance his brother wouldn’t get it anyway.

Sure, Sam had his own doubts.  About the trickster in Gabriel.  About him being an archangel.  About the fact that one day Sam would grow old and the angel would undoubtedly lose interest.  Most of all, about what it was they were even doing in the first place.  

Was it just sex?  Probably not considering Gabe was as likely to come around in the middle of a case or to watch a movie as he was to tumble into bed.  Were they dating?  The angel seemed a tad cagey whenever Sam tried to hash out any real expectations or labels.  Possessively cohabiting?  Gabriel hadn’t really moved in but always seemed to be around, especially when someone else seemed to be interested in going home for the night.

In the end, Sam had simply accepted it was better to live in the moment, because realistically the archangel wouldn’t be around forever (and honestly, neither would he).  Once he’d let go of that need to define what they were doing, he found he was a lot happier in general.  

It didn’t mean he still didn’t have his moments.  This week he’d had several of them which was what Dean was picking up on.  His brother’s concern was a bit delayed, however, and Sam was well over it, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed.  Ideally beside a certain celestial being.

“If it’s Gabriel…”  Dean continued.

“Look, i’m just tired, all right?” He interjected, quickly nipping that whole spiel in the bud.  “What we thought was a quick salt and burn turned into five days of playing hide and seek with creepy uncle Devlin and four generations of his ancestors.”

It was by far one of the least fun games Sam had ever played and that was saying something considering who he spent his down time with.

“How are you not exhausted?”  He added, gesturing toward his brother.    

“I am,” Dean insisted, flashing a cocky grin.  “I just happen to look good regardless of how tired I am.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Good for you.  I’m going to bed,” he said, leaving no room for further argument as he turned his back on the older man.  He could feel Dean’s gaze lingering on him as he moved down the hallway, but by the time he’d reached his door, his brother had already disappeared behind his.  

Relief settled over the younger sibling as he entered his room, followed shortly with a pang of disappointment.  Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.  Then again, the angel didn’t make it a habit to be lounging around his bed, waiting for his return, but it would have been a nice surprise.   

He dropped his bag in the corner, shrugging his way out of his coat before tossing it in a nearby chair.  It was probably for the best.  This way Sam could catch a quick shower, get some rest, and then be a little more refreshed for whenever the angel decided to make an appearance.  

He kicked off his shoes, making quick work of his clothes that became left in a trail behind him though most of them ended up on the floor in the bathroom.  He reached into the shower, turning it on and stepping in before it had a chance to warm up.  Coldness struck skin, jolting his system and helping take the edge of his tiredness.  His body tensed, beginning the slow process of unwinding as the water began easing up to the right temperature.   

He leaned forward, letting the hot spray spread over his neck and down his shoulders.  The pressure felt good on his muscles and for a moment he imagined it was his lover’s touch at work instead.  He could almost feel Gabriel’s hands smoothing over his back, fingers stretching out and around to smooth over his chest.  One hand would return to knead along the tension in his shoulders while the other would start drifting down, teasing its way lower and lower at an agonizing pace.  

Just like that, he was hard.  He hadn’t planned on having a quick release before bed, but between his extended absence from his lover and the break-neck pace of that last case, his body seemed to have other ideas.  

It wasn’t necessarily a bad one.

He ran his hand along his chest, mimicking the actions he’d just imagined.  Intriguingly enough, Sam was never as patient as the ex-trickster.  Gabe may have had a terrible time resisting instant gratification, but when it came to drawing out these moments, the angel suddenly had the patience of a divine being.  Once Sam got going, however, he liked things to keep moving and tonight was no exception.  

His fingers didn’t linger long, skimming a quick trail down the center of his stomach.  He was almost where he needed to be, but before he could take hold of himself, someone else did for him.

“Need a hand with that?” A familiar voice purred next to his ear.  Sam let out a moan, though he wasn’t sure if it was the sound of Gabe’s voice alone or the firm grip the angel took over him before giving a few languid strokes.  He braced his hands against the wall just as he felt his lover’s other hand slide down the curve of his ass, dipping down to cup his balls from behind.  He leaned into the contact, shuddering as tips traced over that sensitive spot just behind them before drifting even higher.  

When a finger began to tease against Sam’s entrance, he thought he was going to be done right there.    

“Sorry, Sammy boy, but we’re going to have to keep this short.  I have a surprise waiting for you,” the angel murmured, taking the man’s ear between his teeth, tugging slightly, and easing a suddenly well lubed finger inside him.  

It made no difference to him.  He wasn’t sure he could have lasted very long anyway.  Gabe knew how deep to go, just where to press, and exactly how to work his hand over Sam’s cock.  The hunter felt his legs weakening the closer he got and it was going to be a miracle if he made it through this without ending up on his knees.  His hips gave a stutter as he teetered on that edge, forehead pressing against the cold tile as he attempted to draw it out at least a few moments longer.

“Come for me,” Gabriel told him and he did, the archangel’s name tumbling off his lips and echoing through the bathroom as he spilled his seed across the wall.  The angel pressed a smile against his lover’s back, drawing his finger back out before giving him a quick slap on the ass.  

“Now finish cleaning up and meet me in the bedroom,” Gabe told him playfully.  By the time Sam turned around, the angel had disappeared again.  He sighed, not certain if he had enough left in him for one of the ex-trickster’s surprises.  

He also knew there wasn’t much he could do if Gabriel really had his mind set on it.  

He did his best to finish up quickly, but exhaustion had already begun creeping back in.  It weighed on his movements, causing him to take longer than usual.  By the time he had gotten out and dried off, the only surprise Sam wanted was whether or not he’d actually wake up to find the archangel had stuck around or if he was alone as usual.  

He was in the process of pulling on his robe when a sharp, high-pitched noise in the next room caught his attention.  It was so quick Sam almost thought he was imagining it.  The hurried shhh that followed however?  Definitely real.

He could only imagine what he was about to walk into.

He braced himself, securing the tie around his middle before entering his room.   The sight he was greeted with left him speechless.

“What is that?” Sam asked once he finally found his voice.  The words came out a little harsher than intended, incredulity adding an extra edge because that was definitely not what he thought it was sitting on Gabe’s lap.

“I get you didn’t have much of a childhood, but if you need me to explain what this is, we have bigger things to worry about,” Gabriel said, brow arching slightly as he just stared at the taller man a moment.  

Apparently, Sam needed to rephrase that.  

“Why is there a puppy in my bed?” He demanded, hands going to his hips.

“Because you don’t nearly have enough cute and cuddly things in your life?” Was the answer he received.  The angel pouted, doing his best to look like the tiny creature in his lap he raised one of the little paws and waved.  

“Gabriel,” Sam warned, not in the mood, no matter how adorable it actually was.

“You can’t tell me you don’t like him,” the archangel dropped the act, sounding a little put out.  

He never said that.  Everything he had said, however, indicated he wanted some clue as to what was going on.  

“You can’t just get a puppy.  They’re a lot of responsibility,” Sam informed him.  Responsibility the youngest Winchester could see himself being left with once the novelty wore off.  

“I know,” a familiar undercurrent crept into the angel’s tone.  Attitude wasn’t anything new coming from the archangel but seeing it this quickly?  That was a little odd.  Not enough to derail Sam’s need to drive his point home.

“And it’s not just about feeding them, you have to take them for walks and to the vet –”

“I know,” Gabriel repeated, drawing out the second word and giving it a sing-song quality.  If the hunter hadn’t been so tired, he might have picked up on the cues that suggested he not only was raining on Gabe’s parade, but lighting all the floats on fire as well.

“And then there’s the whole process of housebreaking it and -”

“Your mouth is still moving.  You may want to look into that,” sarcasm splashed through words in a way that indicated he was only half-joking.  The expectant look he received suggested if he didn’t look into it, the archangel was going to for him.  

He folded his arms over his chest.  Ok.  Gabe wanted to talk? He’d let the angel talk.  

“I get it, you know, why you feel the need to disappear on a case without telling me.”  A smooth veneer overtook Gabriel’s features, one that hadn’t been seen in quite some time.  It wasn’t often the mask made an appearance anymore, but he knew what it meant.  Gabe was feeling vulnerable which meant there was more behind the gesture than he anticipated.  

Sam suddenly felt guilty for not allowing the man the chance to explain anything.

“You humans need things.  Space.  Clarity.  Perspective.  You get caught up in the need to draw your little lines in the sand and when it doesn’t happen, you start getting antsy.  You’re uncertain.  Insecurities take hold.  People die,” Gabe made a face, waving his hand as if he was talking about the antics of children instead of murder.  

Sam was simply trying to figure out what the hell the man was talking about.  His brows drew together before creeping toward his hairline.  

“Well, not in your case, but you’d be surprised how many people have an extra touch of crazy in them,” the way Gabriel shrugged made him question just how common an occurrence it really was, before he realized he had enough to deal chasing monsters.  He did not need to delve that deeply into humans.  

Those tended to be scarier, after all.  

“So what does this have to do with a puppy again?”  He’d like to think there was a clear thread of logic to be found and for once it wasn’t Gabe saw something he wanted and decided he needed it.

“Are you really going to make me say it?”  The archangel asked, tone becoming flatter, almost taking on a defensive edge.

Considering Sam was not only clueless but completely exhausted to the point he almost just wanted to say yes so he could sleep?  Yeah.  He was going to make the angel say it.

“Fine,” Gabriel said, a little testy.  “I know I’m not good with all these things you want.  Communication.  Directness.”

“You mean relationships?”  Sam supplied and the angel’s lips pulled into a thin line.

“Hey, I’m trying here,” he said, words heavily sardonic, and it was true.  The fact he was even broaching this subject meant he was making a concerted effort.  Sam gave him an apologetic look, not wanting to discourage him.  

“I don’t do relationships anymore,” Gabe finally said, eyes dropping down as he stroked the ball of fur curled up in his lap.  “They just don’t work out for me.”

Despite Sam’s laissez faire attitude toward the whole thing, his lover’s comment still stung. Disappointment wasn’t a new experience by any means, but this particular brand was always a little tougher to swallow.  

He looked up at the ceiling a moment, trying to refocus.  “So, how is getting me a puppy–”

“Us.  I got us a puppy, you big dumb moose,” Gabe suddenly snapped, his patience fraying. “Because I’m trying to tell you I don’t plan on going anywhere.”  

Sam’s eyes dropped back down and angel paused, honeyed hues softening as mischief sparked back into them.  “Well that and maybe to piss off your brother.”

“Oh,” Sam said because it was the only thing his mind could manage.  The realization sank in on what his lover had just admitted.

Oh.  

Well, that was unexpected.  

“Yeah.  Oh.”  The archangel gave him a pointed look before picking up the fluffy animal.  It gave a languid stretch, mouth opening into a wide yawn before it looked up at the angel.  Gabriel’s vexation melted as he stared down into its eyes.

“I sincerely hope you at least are a little more perceptive than the big guy over there,” he said, making a face as the puppy began to lick at it.

Now Sam felt really guilty.  Not only had his attempts to be discreet about taking space failed, his lover had obviously put a great deal of thought into how to approach the issue.  Well, what was a great deal for Gabriel.  Deciding to bring him a puppy was still rather impulsive and something that clearly made the archangel happy, but now that Sam knew the sentiments behind it, he couldn’t help but think it was an incredibly thoughtful gesture.

It helped that it also laid to rest his biggest insecurity.  Gabe may not do relationships anymore, but he clearly did something close to it.  

The youngest Winchester moved from his spot across the room, taking a seat on the bed next to them.  The angel released the white and tan creature, watching it awkwardly stumbled over his legs to investigate this suddenly new being.  

“What kind is it?”  Sam asked, reaching up to scratch behind it’s adorably pointed ears.  

“You’ve never seen a corgi before?”  His lover asked, surprise touching tone and for once Gabe didn’t appear to be making fun of him.

He shook his head, watching it take a tentative step onto his lap.  He couldn’t believe he was about to do this.  

Dean was going to be so pissed.

“You’re going to have to watch him when I’m away on hunts, you know, or find someone if we’re both out,” Sam told him, watching his lover’s face light up in a way that made his heart ache.  Gold didn’t brighten this way nearly enough and he made mental note to make more of an effort to discover what else could make them shine.

“Does that mean he can stay?” There’s an uncharacteristic hint of hesitance behind the words, and Sam couldn’t help but feel like they might not just be talking about the puppy anymore.

Impulsivity grabbed hold of his tongue, teasing sentiments from the tip that Sam was always so careful to guard.  It was only fair, though.  Gabriel had put himself out there far more than he ever had and Sam didn’t want him to be alone in his vulnerability.  

“You both can,” he offered, taking the archangel’s hand.  “If that’s something you’d want.”

“I’d like that, Sammich,” Gabe smiled and amber lit up brighter than Sam had ever seen.  “I’d like that a lot.”