#anyway i just rewatched deep breath and i have to focus on things outside [gestures at 12 and clara] else i will mcfreaking lose it

[yesokayiknow]

oh i completely forgot how much vastra flirts with clara lmao

[blazedgraysons]

babe can u bless us w some new years smut w papi gray ?

oml i’m sorry it took me so long to finish this but of course, angel!! lmaoo let’s start the new year out with some hate sex with gray.

warnings: so i guess the words papi gray triggered something in me because i don’t really know what this is anymore. anyways hatefucking, a smidge of choking, some dirty talk and the return of my fave: cocky fuckboy grayson. anyways hope you like it bby <333

New Year’s had never been your favorite holiday. Too many blacked-out people in a bar, all with high hopes for the year that come quickly crashing down the next day along with their hangovers. Plus, it doesn’t help that you’ve been puked on two NYEs in a row.

It wasn’t like you had a personal vendetta against the holiday, just the older you got, the more you wanted to spend New Years' at home. So you ended up creating your own traditions: Indian food, shitty beer, and rewatching your favorite chick flicks.

This is why you were so surprised to find yourself outside of a huge party this year. Your two best friends had dragged you with them, explaining how they didn’t want to ring in New Year’s without you.

“I look like a disco ball.” You groan as the three of you walk in, Ali and Stella confidently leading the way.

“You look hot.” Ali assures, smiling in what you figure is supposed to be a comforting way. She had been the one to invite the two of you tonight, and a part of you feels bad for your miserable attitude, knowing that she just wanted to spend time with you.

“Warning: Dolan at 3 O’Clock.” Your other friend, Stella, whispers into her red solo cup, and you can feel your bad mood return. Turning your head slightly, you can see Grayson Dolan walking in with his entourage, already acting as if he owns the room.

You can hear Ali snapping at Stella, reminding her how they agreed not to point him out tonight, but all you can focus on is how arrogant Grayson looked.

The two of you had never gotten along, a wrong first date leaving each other permanently on the other’s shit list. Despite your disdain for another, the two of you ran in the same friend group, so you saw each other more often than you like. At this point, everyone knew to keep you two far away from each other unless they wanted a whole night of insults, fighting, and yelling.

“Remind me why you two hate each other again? It’s been like two years.” Stella asks nonchalantly, tilting her head as she holds up her drink.

“We just do. He was a dick on our date. Some people aren’t meant to get along.”

“Aw, you two just need to kiss and makeup.” Ali coos, fixing your hair.

“More like fuck and makeup. So what if you had a bad date. The two of you still have this weird sex thing that needs to be figured out.” Stella interjects.  

“I do not-“ Your friends start laughing at your loud objection, watching as your face grows hot in embarrassment.

“I do not want to fuck him!” You hiss, hiding your face from nosy onlookers.

“Why not? I would; he’s fucking hot.” Stella whispers, gesturing over to him. All three of you look over at where he’s standing against the kitchen counter, laughing loudly with his group of friends.

You hated to admit it, but she was right: he really was super attractive. He’s simply dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, denim jacket finishing everything off. It’s nothing special, but you hate the fact that he still somehow managed to look better than everyone else here.

He looks over, smirking when he sees your little group staring at him. All three of you turn away, doing a horrible job at trying to look inconspicuous. Your back is turned towards him as you fix your hair and smoothing out your dress. Ali’s eyes light up suddenly, and she’s whispering to Stella before turning back to you.

“Stella has to pee; we’ll be right back.” She rushes out while dragging Stella to the nearest bathroom. Before you can protest, Grayson’s taking their spot.

He’s chewing his gum obnoxiously, and you can’t help the way your eyes focus on how his jaw moves with every bite.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving. Decided it’s not really for me anymore.” You get out, moving past him to walk to the door. You figured you can just call an Uber and text your two friends you were feeling sick. Before you can make it past, he grabs your arm to stop you.

“C’mon, it’s the last day of the year. Can’t you be nice to me just for tonight?” He asks, eyes shining with mischief.

“ Don’t you have some other girl to mess with?” You yank your wrist back, walking off as he follows you.

“Why? You jealous.” He asks, and you know that arrogant smirk is painted on his face.

“Over you? Hardly.” You keep moving until he says something that has you stopping in your tracks.

“Did you wear that dress for me tonight?” Your jaw clenches, annoyance washing over your body. However, you figure two can play this game, so you turn around, walking towards him with a flirtatious expression on your face. He’s looking down at you, appreciating the way your attitude has done a complete 180. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his face towards yours, leaning in as if you’re going to kiss him.

“Fuck you.” You whisper, mouth millimeters away from his. You turn away, turning to look at him over your shoulder one last time. The irritated expression on his face and his clenched jaw should’ve warned you that you were playing with fire. Still, you simply keep walking forward, choosing to look for Ali and Stella.

Maybe you could stay a little longer to see how this plays out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck Grayson Dolan.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you were angrier at him or if you actually wanted to fuck him.

All you know is he was pushing every last button.

It started with constant flirting - just with everyone else besides you. You knew Grayson was a tease, but you swore he had given every girl at this party his signature charming smile. The one that screamed, 'I'm Grayson Dolan, and you're the only one here for  me.' You had pretended like you hadn’t seen red when he leaned down to whisper a joke in some girl's ear, winking at you when he notices the way your eyes had narrowed and your lips were puckered.

It only got worse when he decided he needed a refill on his drink, coming up to where you were standing in the hallway. He slyly placed his hands low on your waist, pressing up against you to squeeze by even though you both knew that there was more than enough space.

You were in the middle of debating on whether or not you should finally leave for good this time, figuring you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to this torture when you still have leftover takeout in your fridge.

“Hey, we need to talk to you. Can you meet us in the upstairs bedroom in like 5 minutes?” Ali appears out of nowhere, blonde curls messed up as if she’s been running her hands nervously through her hair. Stella just nods casually, and you look at the two of them suspiciously.

“What are you two planning?” You ask.

“Nothing! Upstairs. Five minutes!” Ali assures, kissing you on the cheek before walking off again. You can tell she’s drunk, smelling the lingering vodka shots on her breath. However, curiosity gets the better of you, and after five minutes, you’re slowly walking up the stairs.

“Ali? Stel?” You call out, getting nothing in response. You keep walking until you reach the end of the hallway, closed door in front of you. You open it, greeted with the sight of Grayson in front of you.

“What the fuck?” You both exclaim, the door closing behind you. You jangle the door handle, cursing under your breath when you realize it’s locked.

“We’re not letting you out until you guys kiss!” Ali calls out.

“You guys got 20 minutes until midnight.” Stella laughs, both still holding the door tightly to keep you from breaking through.

“Oh my God, we’re not fucking 12. This isn’t 7 minutes in heaven.”

“Less talking, more frenching!” Ali yells, giggling loudly as her heels slowly click away.

You roll your eyes, “You two are the fucking worst.” You kick the door before sliding down against it, tilting your head against the door.

“Your friends are weird.” are the first words out of Grayson’s mouth, and you roll your eyes.

“They mean well, they’re just really … stupid sometimes.”You get back up to your feet and start knocking on the door, hitting it with your palms, anything that could hopefully get a passerby’s attention.

“Can you stop banging on the door? It’s annoying.” Grayson mumbles out from where he’s sitting up on the bed after five minutes of your obnoxious knocking.

“I’m sorry, did you want to spend New Year’s locked in here with one another. I’m trying to get out.”

He leans back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arms. “You realize it’s locked; we’re stuck in here. No one’s coming up here for a while.”

You hate to admit it, but you know he’s right. With only 20 minutes until midnight, everyone’s going to be downstairs, not wanting to miss the main event. You walk over to the dresser, sitting on top of it as you pull out your phone to find someone to text for an emergency rescue.

“We really should just sleep with one another.”

You nearly drop your phone in your lap from his sudden outburst. “I think that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not? I think you’re hot; I know you think I’m hot. Stop- don’t try to argue with me; I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Let’s just get this over with; clear start to 2021.” He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sleeping with you Grayson.”

“What, scared you might actually like it?” He pushes himself up off the mattress and stalks over to where you’re seated on top of the dresser. You start to feel uncharacteristically timid, not knowing how to react under his dark gaze. You don’t say anything, just watching the way his eyes rake over your entire body slowly.

He takes a deep breath, “If I kiss you right now, will you let me?” You wait a second before throwing on caution to the wind, and nodding, deciding to give in to whatever tension is growing between you.

He leans down, softly kissing you before coming back to gauge your reaction.

“If you kiss anything like the way you fuck, this is gonna fucking suck.” You whisper, smiling at the way his face drops. He pulls you into him, forcing his lips onto yours roughly. It’s messy, teeth clashing into one another, noses bumping, and you love it. You didn’t want softness, you didn’t want intimacy, you wanted Grayson to let out everything he felt towards you.

He starts to roughly mark down your neck, leaving dark marks, and you whimper, desperately pulling his jacket off his shoulders. He leans back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your mouth falls slightly. You take in all the deep contours and ridges, not even missing the way he flexes briefly.

“Like what you see?” He rasps out, pants growing tighter at your open arousal.

“Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean I’m another one of your fans. I still fucking hate you.” You pull your dress off and spread your legs slightly on the dresser. You mentally thank Ali for forcing you to skip wearing a bra because the way Grayson’s face zeros in on your bare tits has you whimpering softly. He moves even closer to you.

“Doesn’t seem like you hate me right now.” He whispers, eyes darkening at the dark spot growing on your underwear. His arms are on either side of your thighs as he’s standing in between your legs. You can feel the heat coming off from his body, close enough that you can pick up the subtle nerves in his energy under waves of excitement.

“Whatever.” You’re trying your hardest to remain unaffected, calm under his intense gaze. Still, between the lack of touch and the way he’s looking like he can’t figure out how he wants to ruin you first, you start to squirm.

He pulls roughly at your underwear; you watch as his biceps bulge until the fabric falls apart in his hands. Whatever facade of calmness you were trying to maintain flies out the window. You swallow deeply, eyes wide as he tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder with a cocky smirk. The smug look on his face is enough for you to snap back to normal and return to your usual backtalk.

“Watch it, asshole. Those aren’t cheap.”

“Trust me, I’ll buy you two more to make up for it. Now shut up; you talk too much.” With that, he’s leaning down and sucking your clit hard.

You’re not quick to compliment Grayson, but you can admit he’s incredible at eating pussy. He genuinely sounds like he’s ready to die in between your legs, quietly groaning to himself with every suck and lick. Your breath hitches at the imagery, and he’s slowly licking up your slit, savoring the way you taste for him. He gives you a few more licks before he starts sucking at your clit again, and you can feel yourself growing closer.

“Fuck, Gray- I’m about to cu-“ Before you can finish, he’s pulling away and smiling up at you with shiny lips.

“Fuck you.” You practically spit out, and he just laughs shortly, amusement barely hidden in his face.

“Before I make you cum, I wanna hear you ask nicely.” He’s leaning into you again, lips hovering yours, mirroring the same position you had him in earlier. You push his shoulder, hoping to give you some distance, but he stays firmly planted in place.

“If you think I’m gonna beg for your sorry excuse of a dick -“

He cuts you off, fingers slipping inside you, and he starts curling his fingers, your back arching into his touch. With how close you were to your orgasm, you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You start whimpering out his name, and he stills all his movements, thumb hovering over your clit.

“Beg.” He demands, and neither of you misses the way you tightly clench around him from the change of tone in his voice.

You stare at him long until he lightly brushes your clit, reminding you of what you’re missing in your stubbornness. You sigh dramatically before swallowing your pride and saying:

“Grayson, fuck me.” He stares at you pointedly, and you sigh again.

“Please, Gray. Want you to fuck me, please.” You whisper. It’s not a lot, but he knows that’s probably the most he’s going to get out of you at this moment, so he just smiles proudly and starts moving his fingers again. The coil in your stomach starts to grow tighter, and your toes curl when you start cumming all of your fingers. You cry out, nails scratching down his stomach as he continues to move his hand to work you through your orgasm.

He leans back, sucking up everything on his fingers before unbuckling and taking his pants and underwear off. You were glad he had made you cum before because he was big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before. He brushes his dick over your entrances a few times, tapping his dick lightly on your clit. You whimper slightly, and he winks, arrogant persona back in full force.

“You’re still a dick.” You whisper, no real sting to your words.

“Yeah, I know.” He strokes his dick lightly before sinking in, and both of you moan out from the initial feeling.

He starts snapping his hips relentlessly, not giving you time to adjust to his pace. Your eyes begin to roll back, only able to focus on the wood digging into your back, arm wrapped around your waist, and dick ramming roughly into you. You’re moaning out constantly, nothing able to come to mind to express how good he’s making you feel.

However, Grayson is starting to get frustrated, not satisfied with the way you’ve laid out in front of him. He picks you up, holding you close to him before dropping you carelessly on the bed. Before you can say anything, he’s twisting your body around, so you’re on all fours in front of him and is sliding back into you, taking you from behind. You’re arching underneath him, allowing him to reach you even deeper as you moan out. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, and from your constant sounds and ass jiggling in front of him, he’s releasing a guttural groan.  

He places an arm next to your head while wrapping a large hand around your throat, lightly cutting off your air. His body is entirely over yours, encasing your entire body in his large frame. It all starts to get to be too overwhelming, and your mind starts to go blank from the pleasure, pulling at the railings to get away from how hard he’s fucking into you while also leaning back into him to get more.

“Stop running; thought you wanted to see how good I can fuck you.” He moves his hand to slap your ass, and his dick jumps from the way you start squeezing around him. He rubbing your ass, ready to spank you again, when the both of you stop from loud screams coming below you. You both hear yells about countdowns and New Year’s and Grayson’s leaning down, rutting himself into you before whispering in your ear -

“How much you wanna bet I can get you to cum before midnight?”

10!

You didn’t think he could go any faster, but his movements pick up, hitting your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

9!

He brushes his fingers against your lip, watching as you slowly take them into your mouth and start sucking. You don’t miss the way he lightly swears when you lightly nip at the pads of his fingers. “Fucking brat.” He mutters before he’s wrapping his hand around your throat again.

8!

He moves his hand, going back up on his knees so he can hold you still as he keeps thrusting into you.

7!

With the way he’s gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, you already know you’re gonna be bruised with his fingerprints on your hip tomorrow.

6!

You start to fall forward, and all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.

5!

He starts rubbing at your clit, and you swear you can feel him deep in your stomach, knowing that he’s going to be responsible for your limp tomorrow.

4!

“If only I knew earlier that all I needed to do to get you to shut up was to fuck you properly” were the words coming out, and you hate yourself for moaning out louder at the way he says it.

3!

You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he starts slowing down, choosing to grind his hips slowly into you.

2!

You haven’t stopped moaning, volume picking up until you’re practically sobbing into the pillow. You briefly think how grateful you are for the screaming in the living room when Grayson smacks your ass hard before groaning in your ear, “Fucking cum, Y/N.”

1!

The tight feeling in your stomach snaps, and a small spurt of wetness releases, you squirting into his dick and thighs. You practically collapse forward, suddenly exhausted, and it only takes a few more thrusts before Grayson’s pulling out to cum on your lower back.

Happy New Year’s, Y/N.” He whispers in a cocky tone, pride in how he practically has you reduced to nothing underneath him.

He covers you in a blanket before getting dressed and walking back out to the party, not even bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk when his friends ask him why he missed the ball drop.

[diningpageantry]

Put A Ring On It

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934752

Epilogue of “It’s A Handheld Disaster”

Word Count: 2165

Summary: After years of being together, Baz finds the perfect spot to propose at.

Notes: this fic has been a long time in the works--as in, i started it nearly two months ago, didn’t have a laptop for a month and a half, and finally was able to finish it tonight. this goes out to @the-lincyclopedia, who i promised this to a while ago (i’m sorry it took so long omg). i hope y’all like it!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really won’t tell me where we’re going?”

The cellophane wrap around the flowers squeaks as I squeeze the stems, letting them roll in my hands as Baz’s fingers keep snuggly wrapped around my bicep. I feel his index and middle finger tap a few times while the soft rumble of his voice just barely escapes the thundering noise of the underground.

“No.”

My lips press together as I huff, staring out into darkness.

Fucking drama queen, with his blindfolding and romantic gestures.

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I can’t stop myself from smiling, even if it’s a tiny smirk. “Never have. Doesn’t change the sentiment, though.”

His hand curls tighter, pulling the fabric of the nice shirt he made me wear. The car jostles, and we roll our feet with the track’s bumps. It isn’t really jarring, but instead a bit calming. Baz’s head drops to the top of mine, settling there as his hair falls down and brushes my cheek. I move to push it off, but it falls right back into place.

“Do you not trust me?” Baz murmurs, his hand sliding down to mine as my nose wrinkles.

“Of course I do,” I protest back, taking hold of his hand and pressing out palms together. His fingers sink right into place. “After nearly half a decade, I don’t think I have much a choice, do I?”

Pause. “No, not really.”

“Thought so.” We lean against one another, the car of the train rocking a bit and starting to squeal into the next station.

“Mind the gap between the train and the platform,” it stirs, the masculine voice speaking over head before changing to, “This is, Bakers Street.”

Baz gives my arm a good tug, leading us out of the Tube as I blink curiously. Yes, sure, there’s a few things around here that are worth the trip. Like that one shop with the fantastic lemon poppy muffin, or the zoo, and of course the Gastrell museum, but it’s all usually a bit of a splurge given our usual budget (especially since his father stopped sending cheques once we graduated).

“Can I take off the blindfold yet?” I ask, feeling him pull me out towards the stairs.

“Not yet,” he calls, steps ahead and voice getting lost amongst the crowd. In hopes of keeping him close, I tighten my grip and carefully follow him step by step.

The crowd keeps around us, and finally breaks as we rise up into the outside, city air.

It’s a change in volume now. Moving cars, passing busses, and the remarkable scent of the nearby street cart vendors.

Baz drifts close enough that I can take hold of his bicep, feeling the slight chill of his skin underneath as I walk closely to his side. “How far?”

He hums beside me, other hand closing around our joint ones as the wrap for the flowers audibly catch on his face. “Not even five minutes--will you hold up until then? Please?”

I sigh, dramatically, and tighten the hand around his arm. “Five minutes?” I enthuse dramatically. “Better be for the bloody Queen.”

“I thought I was the queen of this town?”

“Drama queen, maybe.”

I feel a pinch at my arm, and I can’t help but smile, tugging him closer as we slow our strides. His hand circles around mine, rubbing my wrist and soothing my nerves as we step in time together. It feels like we’ve always been like this--in synch. I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, but we’re always in this rhythm.

I wonder, sometimes, if that’s what made me fall in love with him. The beat. A nonstop back and forth. A pace to our connection.

Something irreplaceable. Something I don’t know if anyone could ever replicate.

We weave about and walk in time until we get to a stop. He tugs my arm back, looping his free hand around my elbow as I halt and turn at his will. Suddenly, he lets go before steady hands work around my skull, unwrapping and untying the careful knot in my blindfold.

Once it falls, I see it in fine, carved lettering.

“The Huxley Gastrell Museum”

I turn slowly back, barely seeing the excitement contained on Baz’s face as he tries to gesture up cooly. “Well?”

“Holy shit,” I laugh. I don’t have much else to say, or do, besides hug him tight, nearly making the flowers fly everywhere as I exclaim “Holy shit!” once more.

He smirks proudly, arms circling around me and tugging our bodies together. Keeping mindful, I carefully tuck my face into his neck and press a soft, slow kiss to his skin. It’s a bit cold to the touch, but easy to indulge in.

He hums, clearly grinning as he speaks. "Happy anniversary, my love."

Pulling back, my face starts to hurt from all the smiling. "Fuck you, and your surprises," I breathe cheekily, nose brushing his as I go in for the kiss.

We laugh together before he hauls me into line, letting me practically curl around his bicep and kiss his shoulder as often as I like. Screw anti-PDA bullshit, he's getting all my affections.

“How long have you been planning for this one, then?” I hum, glancing around the street as I think through it. Sure, he’s been putting in hours at the bookshop he’d took the job at last year, and we’ve been eating out a bit less, but I’d figured we’d just been saving generally.

Not that this is expensive, or anything. Just not something we tend to work towards spending money on. Still, not a terrible surprise by any means, regardless as to how deep we are (or really, aren’t) in the fandom, nowadays.

It isn’t like we abandoned our love of it at all--quite the opposite, really. Our bedroom practically has a shrine, after all. Stacked special editions, antique copies of the book. Copper busts, the collector’s item dolls. Hell, Baz even got the same type of violin that Gastrell plays as a holiday gift two years ago that just sits there and collects dust as a display centrepiece. It feels like, sometimes, we appreciate it more than we did when we were younger.

But our worlds changed.

We found new ways to cope. New ways to love.

Healthier things to enjoy.

Our blogs are still up, but just shifted a bit. Mine ran out of focus and is mostly my shitposts now, while he’s moved towards more life-updates sort of shit. He’s got enough followers accumulated over time that they shockingly care about what we do now, but the overarching urge to post about Gastrell has died down.

Now it’s just people asking about our lives (and Penny’s too, by relation). It’s a bit amazing that people actually care about shit like our relationship, but it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy when people ask if we’re planning on getting married. Which, we agreed that we’d wait until we were done schooling to figure out that far into the future.

Although, now that we’re done, it feels like neither of us have mentioned it. And, while it doesn’t feel awkward, it still comes back into my mind every now and again as a question. I tend to ignore it. Figured we’ll talk about it when he’s ready.

But now? Now we’re in a happy place, regardless. Separated from the past now, and moving towards a new life.

Which excludes most of our old online life--guess isn’t a shock, anyway. Given the fandom’s practically dead along with it. Still, we read reread the stories, rewatch the better episodes, and always use it as our go-to for a costume party.

But it feels like history, now.

It’s still part of our history--Huxley and Sammy. Part of their story has become part of ours.

“Planned the museum idea a month or two ago,” he says, a bit self-righteously (still a prick, after all this time). “Good idea, though, isn’t it?”

“Suppose so.” I shrug up to him as we step ahead. “Lucky guess, but good idea.”

“I never guess on these sorts of things.”

“Liar.”

Together, we wrinkle our noses up to one another, then follow the line as it scoots closer, people piling into the bottom of the shop.

We’ve been down here before--we came here the first week we moved into London. Which, strangely, feels like centuries ago now.

We didn’t have much money to do anything, but we just wanted to peer inside, given this space is free. Fiona bought us some housewarming mugs here that day.

I smile when I see the same ones, looking over them as we brush past and head towards the ticket booth for the proper parts of the building.

Baz pays with cash as I lean against his arms, trying to get a good look up and sniffing my flowers happily. It looks like what I’d imagined from the book--especially with the way Baz peppers in emphasis on details.

He reads a story aloud whenever I can’t sleep. We’ve gotten through all the stories twice now.

I tug on his sleeve again as he’s thanking the ticketer, practically buzzing as he laughs at me and finally follows along as I dash up.

“Why don’t we start at the top?” Baz says gently as I practically skip my way upwards. “Work our way down?”

I shrug, nodding silently as we brush past other people stopping off immediately at the second floor. I tug him along, taking some steps two at a time to get up and finally start to look about the space. And, while it isn’t quite boring, the third floor fascinates us both a bit more, despite the wax sculptures feeling a bit creepy. I’ve never quite been one for lifelike shit that isn’t living, after all.

Still, it’s interesting. The staple items--the ones to gawk at. The ones I tug his arm over, watching him grin as I excitedly sneak in references.

He stays a bit silent most of the time, his hand in his jacket (which I probably should make fun of him for--it feels a bit too warm for thicker clothes). Sometimes I catch him staring at me instead, which I tease him a bit for, but he nudges my arm and rolls his eyes as his response.

“There’s only one Gastrell Museum,” I remind him at one point.

He shrugged, which made me feel a bit off, but I shrug away the thought. Maybe something to talk about later.

I do catch him after we make it down to the second floor, though. Give him a good peck on the cheek as we huddle into a corner.

He raises a brow as I stare up, one hand settling onto his chest.

“Just… wanted to say thank you for a fantastic present,” I whisper. “I don’t know if my anniversary breakfast quite lives up to this one.”

His face breaks into a private grin, eyes rolling as he kisses my cheek back. “I thought the pancakes were an excellent effort,” he whispers, making my cheeks flush.

Effort is the right word for them.

“Thanks,” I scoff softly before we step into the main room, glancing briefly before deciding to head through the back rooms first before taking it all in.

It’s fun to gaze around the bedrooms, sure, but I’m practically bouncing on the balls of when we make it back to the main one.

Baz lets go of me as I take a step closer to their armchairs set up, borderline vibrating as I peer around the space in front of me. “Hey Baz,” I start, going to spin around as I speak. “Can we take a picture of--”

I nearly drop my fucking flowers, staring wide-eyed as he exhales, kneeling down and staring up at me with raised eyebrows.

“Holy--”

His smile and hand movement cuts me off as he opens a box, grinning like a madman. I swear, I’ve never seen him this genuinely joyful. Half makes me wonder if he’s just having a laugh, but fucking hell, the ring that he’s got int here looks expensive and old. “Simon,” he says gently. “I could give you a year’s-long speech about why I love you, but it’s never going to properly summarize how I feel. You have been, and still are, the most important thing in my life, and I’d be honored if you--”

“Stop rambling,” I laugh, bending down to grab his face. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

He blinks, a little taken aback by my response, but ends up just pushing himself up and snogging me, right in the middle of the room.

Screw the fannish shit I wanted to do--kissing Baz in the middle of the Gastrell museum is probably both the best possible and most appropriate thing for us to do here.

After all, it is part of our history.