#sometimes i just want to mind beam them kissing onto a page instead of actually drawing

[anexplosionofchaos]

little sneak peek of a sskk page wip i probably may or may not finish who fucking knows

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, some mild smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: All I can say is: I’m sorry. My head is a strange place.

Chapter 29

  “Marcus!! Oh, get that sweet tush over here and hug me, and you better make it a good one after you’ve neglected to visit my cave for longer than these magic hands care to remember.”

  You already loved Velma.

  “Hey, Vel. I’m sorry, I’ve been preoccupied.”

  He did hug her, and properly too, as well as about 10s longer than what would be considered socially acceptable for mere friends, without either of them seeming to find it weird or awkward at all.   You still loved her.

  “Thank you, my darling. You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what you’ve brought me?”

  He beamed at you. He really did love any opportunity to show you off, but he seemed especially pleased about this introduction.

  “Velma, this is my fiancé. Hermosa, as you’ve undoubtedly gathered – this is the one and only Velma.”

  “Your fi… You’re getting… And you’re here. You brought her to me! Are you…?”

  “Yes. I am. On both counts.”

  “YES!! Thank the Greek fucking Gods!! A wedding-dress, and for you, my darling, of all people! Thank you.”

  “Well, technically it’s for her.”

  “Oh, no, sugar. The dress is for the groom. The shoes – are for the bride.”

  She finally set all of her glorious attention on you.

  Velma was a drag-queen, and the most awe-inspiring individual you’d ever seen. Everything about her was superior. She was taller than anyone else in the room, helped by fucking spectacular plateau shoes, she was broad-shouldered and muscular to boot. She carried herself like an empress, with a kind of stillness and real elegance, despite having so much flare and finesse to her. And even though she was covered in colours and sparkles, she somehow looked like she would belong absolutely anywhere.   And when she actually looked you in the eye, you could almost feel her read the pages of the book that was your life, and yet, there was nothing intimidating about it.

  “Well, now. There’s a lot of story here, isn’t there?”

  “A bit. Yeah.”

  “Mm. Alright then, come with me, darling. I demand to know every little detail about the woman my Marcus has chosen.”

  She turned dramatically, and headed for a side-door in the studio workshop where you were, and you looked at Marcus with a wide grin.

  “She’s coming to the wedding.”

  “Don’t worry – she’s on the list.”

  “I don’t care about any list. She’s coming. I need that amount of sparkle at my wedding. And I’m not just talking about the clothes.”

  He chuckled happily as he watched you literally skip over to the open door, and disappear inside.

-----

  Three weeks later, you finally got around to getting your house sold. It was a fairly quick sale since the neighbourhood was nice and the yard was bigger than most other properties on that street. And since you didn’t really need the extra money, you could give the young couple that fell in love with it, a kind price.   You weren’t really particularly sorry to see it go, but you were very happy to see it fall into the hands of people who would appreciate it. For a long time, that house had been your refuge, your safe harbour when life got hard, and you wished that it could be the same for someone else.   You put the bulk of the money in your savings-account, and ear-marked the rest for wedding-expenses.   There still wasn’t really any actual planning going on, as far as dates and times and venues were concerned. But you and Marcus were still getting through a lot of the stuff that goes on around the actual day.   You’d settled on what colours you wanted for the flowers, and what types they should be. You’d had an almost outrageously fun day last weekend, trying out the recipes for all the wedding-cakes you’d both found online. And after soiling literally every inch of the kitchen with flour, and tasting so many different cakes your taste-buds had eventually given up, you had managed to conclude that you wanted a lemon-flavoured one. Missy had tried to get you onto the chocolate-train, but you’d held your ground, with the promise that there would indeed be chocolate present, just not in the cake.   You’d completed the guest-list, and chosen the invitation cards, but they were safely stowed away in a drawer, still unwritten.   It wasn’t that you were stalling or didn’t feel ready. You were just genuinely enjoying the preparations, and not having that deadline made them feel like they were just fun things to do over a weekend, rather than things you had to do to be ready in time. Especially since Missy loved being a part of it too, it made the whole thing feel like a prolonged family event.

  By now, the only thing that was still on the prep-list was Marcus’ suit, but you’d both agreed not to make any decisions on that until you’d seen what Velma did with your dress.   You’d spent two whole days in her cave, getting your measurements taken and your skin-tone evaluated. There were about a hundred things about your body that she’d wanted to know, but you trusted her with your life already, so you’d happily complied.   Plus; any excuse to spend time with her was a good one.   Work was finally becoming manageable again, as you’d finally caught up on all the stuff that was trailing behind, and you were deliberately keeping any and all new projects firmly steered in other directions or delegating them onto other designers. You had enough on your plate with just getting through the already started ones, on top of the wedding-planning.   Today had been a good day, so far, and you’d decided to go and find Marcus and see if he had time to join you for lunch.   When you approached his office, his door was open and you could hear Tech talking. Not wanting to interrupt, you stopped outside and out of sight, while you waited for their conversation to finish. You picked up your phone to send an e-mail while you waited.

  “I can’t believe that building was still standing after that.”

  “Crushing lost control for three seconds. Let’s just be grateful it wasn’t longer.”

  “Oh, I remember that time back in the beginning when he was out of it for like 20 seconds.”

  “I think most of Colombia remembers that, too.”

  “Probably.”

  “Hey, um. Speaking of losing control…”

  “What?”

  “Well, there’s a certain office on the other side of the building that gets a fair bit of noise-complaints.”

  You snapped out of your e-mailing and instinctively turned your head to listen closer.

  “Stay out of it, Tech.”

  “Hey, I’m not the filing them, and I never will. I’m all for healthy appetites. Just wondering if you’re aware of the fact that a lot of people are talking about you guys?”

  “So? Let ‘em talk.”

  “Sure. But they’re not talking about it being a nuisance or inappropriate. They’re talking about how the hell you can keep it up for three hours straight sometimes. Is that true, though?”

  You weren’t sure if you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you, or if you wanted to go find these people and tell them to mind their own business.   There was a brief pause before Marcus answered, and his voice was a bit lower than before.

  “It is. I seriously can’t get enough of her. Ever. No matter how tired I get, I can always go another round.”

  “That’s kind of amazing. How do you ever get anything done?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Any idea when the knot-tying might be happening?”

  “No. I’m dying to do it, to the point where I have to repeatedly tell myself not to just beg her to go to Vegas with me. But I also really wanna get it right, you know? Not necessarily perfect; just right. Right for us. And I want her to feel ready, so that she can just relax and enjoy that day, whenever it happens.”

  Your heart swelled to an almost painful size behind your ribs.

  “I am ready, honey.”

  You stepped over the threshold and watched as his expression turned from confusion to realisation as he saw you.

  “You wouldn’t have to beg. I’d go to Vegas with you right now if you asked. I’ve told you; I don’t really care how it happens. I’m enjoying the preparations and everything we’re doing together, but even if nothing ever got used, I wouldn’t feel like I missed out on anything. You’re the one that wanted the traditions, remember?”

  Tech excused himself at that point, and closed the door behind him after he left.

  “Do you still want all that, Marcus?”

  He looked so torn.

  “Damned it… Yes. I really do.”

  “Then let’s pick a date. Let’s find a place that feels right and let’s make it happen.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Are you ready?”

  He shot up from his chair and was suddenly holding your waist, staring into your eyes.

  “Ah, mi novia, I’ve been ready for a long time.”

  His hands migrated down to your ass, and you let him squeeze you to him. You were wearing a simple blue summer-dress today, and he quickly found his way underneath it, letting his hands run up your thighs and relieve you of your panties.   Then he pulled you along to the sofas, sitting down and urging you to straddle him.   It was almost strange how calm it was. The two of you were always so heated, so passionate whenever you came together, to the point where it was almost always beyond your control, or at least, on the very edge of it.   But this time, there was no tearing at each other’s clothes. No hands desperately grasping, needing and demanding more. No burning heat that made you feel empty and aching until he entered you.   The heat did come, but gradually. With each caress, each tender kiss and each movement of your bodies together, it slowly built from an ember to a flame.   Your walls actually allowed him to move inside you this time, and as you rocked yourself over him, a completely different kind of pleasure to what you’d become used to with him, built inside your core and seemed to reach towards your heart, instead of your sex.   After a while, he turned you both to the side so he could lay you down and settle himself on top of you, and that feeling that was creeping towards your chest, drastically intensified. He drove into you in long, strong thrusts that buried him as deep as your bodies would allow, each time, and his throat made involuntary little sounds of pleasure every time he returned into your wet and welcoming warmth.   It took you nearly thirty minutes to build to a climax this time, and when it finally hit, it was strong in a completely different way than it ever had been before. Your bodies didn’t curl or clench in on themselves, there were no involuntary power-outbursts, no levitation. But it felt like you were underneath each other’s skin. Like your hearts actually melded into one through the intricate contact of your skin and nerves.   It was utterly overwhelming and there were tears streaming from your eyes throughout the whole climax. And they didn’t stop, even after you’d come back down.   There was no pain or sorrow anywhere inside you in that moment, so you concluded that these were tears of pure love and you made no effort to stop them. You just held him close and waited for the feeling to burn itself out.   He burrowed his face into your neck while you laid there, feeling the tears as they passed over onto his cheek on their way down, but making no comment about them. He knew what they were, and it made him love them too.

  You took a late lunch together, and since the pills were working perfectly and the lab had been able to produce several months-worth already, you could enjoy eating like a normal person these days.   Marcus really did miss your stomach-bear, though, and he would occasionally drop comments like ‘this is one of those moments when mama bear would have roared’, and you felt a little bit sorry for him. It was like he’d lost a puppy.   While you ate, you started discussing what places you thought might be nice for a venue.

  “Churches are nice, but a bit… I hesitate to say ‘stuffy’.”

  “Yeah. They feel so formal, like you’re not allowed to have fun, and I really want us and our guests to feel like we’re allowed to have fun.”

  “Definitely. So, what about restaurants?”

  “Not my thing, if I’m honest, hermosa.”

  “I figured. Pavilion?”

  “Now, we’re talking. A big one, with lots of decorations and a dance-floor!”

  “You and your dancing.”

  “Oh, no; you’re the dancer, remember?”

  “And your foxtrot is adequate, but your waltz needs some work.”

  “Thanks. So, do we know of any potentially available pavilions, or are we gonna have to build one?”

  “Don’t you worry about that, sugar-plum, if it’s a pavilion you’re looking for – I know the perfect one.”

  Velma approached your table, wearing an even more daring outfit than last time you’d seen her. As always, she made a show of eyeing Marcus up and down and making appreciative noises to showcase his hunky-ness. And, as always, Marcus just smiled and let her do her thing.

  “Where is it?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you not to worry? I’ll take you to see it later if you want, but for now – I need to borrow your little cherry, here. Time to dolly you up, hon.”

  “It’s finished?”

  “Literally seconds ago. I came to find you right away, I need to see it on you before I can definitively say that it’s done.”

  Marcus beamed at you both while Velma slipped her arm through yours and led you back to her cave.

  Somehow, you’d expected it to be difficult to get into, or at least require assistance, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big or flaunty thing, nor was it heavy or complicated in its design. And yet, there was something so special about it.   It was snow-white with a hint of gold to the shimmer in the fabric, to match the rings. It was an off the shoulder style dress, with long sleeves in the most beautiful lace you’d ever seen, that carried over into the body of the dress as well, though it was purely ornamental there, as the actual body was made from satin.   From the waist down, there was no lace, but tiny golden details had been sewn into the satin and it made the dress come alive somehow.   The skirt was cleverly designed, so that it billowed out just a little, but without getting puffy, and it was still just two layers, making it easy to handle and comfortable to move in. There was no train, but she had made you a vail in the same exquisite lace, in case you decided that you wanted one.

  “Oh, my. Honey… I thought it looked gorgeous on the mannequin, but damn! You make this dress.”

  “It’s perfect, Velma. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

  “Marcus is gonna swoooooon…”

  “He’s gonna love it.”

  “Well, just make sure to have someone strong standing next to him so they can catch him when he inevitably goes down.”

  You just smiled at her.

  “Oh, and thank you for the shoes. You’re right, I’m gonna love these a lot more than the dress before the night’s over.”

  “You got that right, Cherie.”

  You met up with Marcus as soon as you were done in the cave, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw you carrying the special box that housed the dress, shoes and vail, could have put the sparkles in Velma’s very short skirt to shame.

  “You actually have it? It’s finished?”

  “It’s right in here.”

  He looked positively squirmy with anticipation.

  “And it’s even more beautiful than anything you’ve imagined. Trust me.”

  He chuckled.

  “I do.”

  Velma took you out to see the pavilion she’d mentioned, and it really was perfect. It sat on several acres of green lawns and meadows, with a large pond not too far from the structure. You could have the ceremony out on the grass, overlooking the water, and put up a canopy over the tables and chairs for the dinner and cake. And then move over to the pavilion for the dancing and fun-times. There were huge old oak-trees framing the entire area, giving the whole place a bit of a fairy-tale feeling.

  “Marcus, we have to pick a date. We have to find out if this place is available for us.”

  “Oh, don’t you worry about that, honey-bun. It’ll be available whenever you want it.”

  Velma gave you this knowing look and you gawked at her.

  “You own this place?”

  “For a long time now. I only use it for very special occasions, and I don’t go blabbering about it to every Joe and Willy looking for a party-house. But for you, my turtle-doves, it’ll always be available.”

  By the time you went to bed that day, you’d not only picked a date, but completed and sent all of the invitations as well.   You were going to get married on the ten-month anniversary of when you first opened your eyes and saw him by your bedside, which gave you roughly a month to get everything ready. And since you had everything pretty much figured out already, that wasn’t going to be a hard deadline to keep.

  Or, so you thought.

  But the day before the wedding came at you like you’d somehow fallen asleep at the wheel going 200mph down the highway.   Suddenly it was all happening. And while you were totally ready emotionally, you were also just not ready over-all, and you woke up that morning feeling sick. Actually sick.   Marcus was too excited to get more than 4h of sleep per night in the week leading up to that day, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he’d gotten up and left the bedroom some time earlier that morning.   You walked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face but it didn’t do much to alleviate the nausea, so you gave up and just got dressed instead.

  “Hey, alma, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, sweetie, just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. The wedding is happening, come hell or high water.”

  “Good.”

  “Where’s Marcus?”

  “He got called in to work really early, some crisis with a blue-whale, I think.”

  “Okay, well, then I’ll drive you to school.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t just take a sick-day?”

  “I’m not gonna be helped by sitting here wringing my hands all day. Let’s go, Maid of Honour.”

  She smiled at that, but then frowned.

  “You’re not gonna have breakfast?”

  “Kid, I’ll be happy if I can keep the damned pill down this morning.”

  You dropped her off and went to work, intending to treat this like any other Friday. But when you stepped into your office, there was a weird smell that just set off all your senses, and you had to duck over the first available trashcan and vomit. Since your stomach was empty, all that came up was bile, and that somehow made you even more nauseas.

  What the fuck was that smell?

  You abandoned your office and headed for Marcus’ instead. It smelled fine, so you sat down at his computer and used your own login to access your files and get to work.   But after about an hour you’d had to visit his bathroom three times as your stomach continued to try and cough up shit that wasn’t even there, and you gave up, and headed down to medical.

  You had just intended to ask for some anti-nausea medication, but because of your medical history, they insisted on an exam to rule out any possible delayed complications.

  You left medical in a daze, not even realising where you were going before you found yourself back in Marcus’ office.   You sat down in one of the sofas and just waited. You didn’t dare to even try and feel anything without him there, because you were afraid that you might suddenly feel way too much, and you needed him to be there, to keep you calm if that happened.   Some time later, Crushing ducked his head in and had to almost shout to get your attention.

  “Huh… What?”

  “I said, Marcus went home straight from the mission, two hours ago, he had something he wanted to get done for tomorrow. So, there’s no need to wait for him here.”

  “Oh. What time is it?”

  “Almost five.”

  “Shit…”

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “I hope so. Yes. I mean, yes.”

  “Want me to take you home?”

  “No, I’ll be fine, thanks Crush.”

  You drove home being almost ridiculously cautious and you laughed a little at yourself when you parked the car, next to Marcus’.   You were surprised to find the front door locked. You never locked the door when you were home. They must have gone out on foot for some reason.   Fishing your keys out of your bag, you unlocked it and stepped inside, and you were just about to call out to see if anyone was home, when you heard a sound that made every hair on your body stand straight up.   It was a mechanical sound, a machine of some sort. You couldn’t identify it, but your body sure as hell remembered it.   Walking into the living room, a fear unlike anything you’d ever felt before, flooded every cell inside of you.   Your own blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sound of your keys and handbag falling to the floor, as you tried to take in what you were seeing.

  Tubes… wires… computers… machines… bags of liquids… chairs that weren’t chairs but fucking instruments of torture. Two of them. One for Marcus… and one for Missy.   And right in between them – Dr. Prince.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

[wenttworth]

Anyone able to help me with a name for this thing lmao

Yuuri had almost chewed through his pen in the time it took Viktor to finish his phone interview. Viktor had given him a few odd looks during the interminable thirty minutes which, frankly, Yuuri couldn’t fault him for. He knew himself well enough to be aware that he had that particular expression on his face, the one Phichit called the ‘climb him like a pole look’.

So, sue him. He loved how his husband sounded when he spoke Russian. There was little reason for him to speak Russian now. They’d lived in Japan for five years after Yuuri’s retirement and Viktor had no real ties to Russia to stay in contact other than perfunctory congratulatory texts to Yurio following his competitions.

Viktor gave him yet another confused look as he answered another question as Yuuri hadn’t been able to help the shiver that ran through him. Giving a small sigh, he reached over from the other side of the sofa to pull the pen from between Yuuri’s teeth and threw it on the coffee table. Which was smart on his side; any more abuse and he would have been drinking ink.

Yuuri held back a laugh and tried once again to focus on the book he had discarded as soon as Viktor started talking. It was one of his favourite books; surely he could ignore his husband of ten years for a few moments as he finished the chapter.

Viktor laughed at something the interviewer said. Yuuri, accidentally dropping his book but barely noticing, gave in and stared again. Viktor had always been entrancing and, Yuuri swore, was becoming more entrancing by the day. He had the most delicate laughter lines at the corner of his eyes now, which Yuuri delighted in bringing forth, was almost jealous when anyone else caused them.

He could almost forget that little petty jealousy at the sight of him now, the sun beaming through the window behind him and lighting him with an ethereal glow as he laughed. Yuuri felt himself fall a little more. He’d been falling since he was twelve years old and never wanted it to end.

Vaguely, he recognised the familiar sounds that were Viktor’s customary sign-off and surreptitiously slid his glasses off and placed them on the coffee table in preparation.

Viktor hung up the phone and threw it onto the other sofa, turning to Yuuri. “Okay, what is--” He froze as Yuuri threw himself into his lap and kissed him with all the pent-up frustration which the past half-hour had caused. It didn’t last for long, a second later and his hands were in Yuuri’s hair and eagerly matching his intensity. Yuuri toyed with the buttons of his shirt before shifting to kiss his neck instead, smiling when Viktor whined his name.

“I like it when you speak Russian,” he admitted against his skin. Reconsidering, he added: “Really like it.”

He pulled away to look at Viktor, who was watching him with eyes a little wider than usual. “I-I can tell,” he said, and Yuuri grinned at the tremor in his voice. 

Viktor leaned forward to kiss him again, but Yuuri stopped him with a hand on his lips. “Talk to me in Russian?” he asked softly.

The red on Viktor’s cheeks that appeared when he said that was beautiful, and Yuuri touched it reverently. He was still in awe that he was the one who could paint Viktor’s cheeks such a colour.

Viktor gave a self-conscious laugh. “I’m not sure I can.”

Yuuri looked at him pleadingly, only the smallest hint of amusement hidden beneath. “You already do. Sometimes.”

It usually came out when he was close, and Yuuri was very fluent in Russian when it concerned the words ‘please’ and ‘harder’ and ‘more, Yuuri, more’. To the point that if he heard them in any other context it was liable to make him think of things not acceptable in polite company. Thank God they no longer lived in St Petersburg.

“That’s different. I never know what language I’m using then. I’ve never...spoken to anyone like that in Russian.” He mused for a second, and Yuuri only barely resisted kissing the furrow between his brows. “Actually, I’ve never slept with anyone Russian. Does that make me unpatriotic?”

“Don’t think of starting now,” Yuuri grumbled. “Regardless, you’ve been unpatriotic since you arrived in Hasetsu.” Viktor smiled sunnily before darting in to kiss him before Yuuri could stop him.

“I guess I could try.”

Yuuri’s hands tightened in Viktor’s shirt in anticipation, and closed his eyes when Viktor kissed his jaw, his hand moving to the inside of his thigh.

“Все счастли́вые се́мьи похо́жи друг на дру́га, ка́ждая несчастли́вая семья́ несчастли́ва по-сво́ему,” he said, and Yuuri shivered at the sound.

At some point, they had stumbled to the bedroom, Viktor whispering against his skin and Yuuri unable to keep his hands off him. The sun was setting now, though all they could see from their bedroom was the way it stained the sky above the sea hundreds of colours. Viktor ignored it, instead holding Yuuri as close as he could and basking in the afterglow. Yuuri marvelled over the colour his skin turned in the setting sun’s light, like it was reflecting the sky as much as the sea.

“What were you saying to me?” he asked.

Viktor’s eyes were suddenly a bit shifty, and he hid it by kissing Yuuri’s neck. Yuuri’s curiosity spiked, and he tapped the still-barely-thinning whorl on the top of his head. “Vitya?”

“Nothing in particular,” Viktor insisted. “The usual. You’re beautiful, I love you, etcetera.”

Yuuri shook his head, pushing Viktor back gently. He had noticed that Viktor was particularly mirthful, having to hide his smiles against Yuuri’s neck and thighs and back--now he really had to stop, or he would be pinning Viktor to the bed again--not that he’d minded. Viktor was always playful when he was at his happiest. “I know that much in Russian. Now you have to tell me. What did you say?”

“Um.” Viktor laughed, with a little embarrassment. “You don’t want to know. Don’t worry about it.”

“What, were you describing a medical procedure or something?”

Viktor laughed. “No, it’s not that bad.” 

Yuuri waited, but he resolutely kept his mouth shut. He pulled himself closer, playing with the hair at the back of Viktor’s head. It was a little longer than it had been when they first properly met. Perfect to run his fingers through. “Please?” he said pleadingly, only feeling a little triumphant as Viktor looked away with another blush.

“Just remember that you didn’t give me any time to prepare, ok? And I’d never done it in Russian. It sounds… wrong.” He stole another quick kiss from Yuuri. “I just...recited the first,” he pondered for a second, “five pages of Anna Karenina? It was all I could think of on such short notice.”

Yuuri always knew how intelligent his husband was. To the point of being scary, sometimes, with the range and depth of his knowledge of everything from the most common to the most obscure subjects. Sometimes it almost became habitual, that his husband could probably easily be classified as a genius.

“You have the first five pages of Anna Karenina memorised?”

“The first five chapters, actually. I’ve read it a lot.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to know that?” His voice was breathless, and Viktor tucked a stray strand of hair back behind his ear with a smile.

“Because it’s a tragedy? Doesn’t seem right to quote it when we’ve got our happy ever after.”

Yuuri buried his face in Viktor’s chest. “I’d throw myself under a train for you.”

Viktor laughed, and it was like the setting sun was spilling from his lips. “That’s not why she… never mind.”

Yuuri had pulled away from his chest to watch him laugh, and moved to straddle Viktor’s lap. “Any more great Russian classics you’ve got memorised?”

A slow smile spread over Viktor’s mouth. “The first ten or so chapters of War and Peace. It has a lot of French in it too, however.”

Yuuri pretended to consider it. “I think I can live with that.”

[obscureoperations]

What about Martin fingering himself for the very first time??? I don't think he would do that out of the blue, so let's pretend he read about it in a gay porno magazine ;) GOD the sounds that would fall out of his lips would be divine

I um... Yes! This. I believe I wrote something like this before, but it’s like wayyyy back in my archives. Not the best, but here ya go! I’m here for it! Nsfw

The breeze that drifts in through the open window does next to nothing to cool his overheated skin. Martin was splayed out in the middle of the bed, completely bare, a fine sheen of sweat already forming across his brow. His body was on fire, his left thigh was threatening to spasm. His wrist was bent at an increasingly uncomfortable position. If only he could get just..a..bit more--

His lips fall open as sparks erupt behind his eyes, he finally found that spot again. With renewed vigor his heels dig into the bed as he continues to assault himself with lube slicked fingers. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it.. It was the only thing on his mind since he found that magazine. He was rummaging through one of your drawers, he just wanted to borrow your walkie talkies. Call it the price of snooping, he knew exactly what was in that box. It was where you kept all your ‘toys’ and various devices, some of which he had used on you before. Heat rose to his face at the memory, he found himself scrounging deeper.

 Soon enough he saw it, it was one of those magazines with two greased up guys on the cover. He wanted to laugh..he really didn't think that they were your type. Out of curiosity he begins to leaf through the magazine, the pictures get increasingly lewd. He was about to just put it away until he flipped to the center of the magazine. What on earth were they…? He flips the page holding it further away from his  face. How were they even--where was it supposed to go? Upon closer inspection his eyes grow wide as realization washes over him. He can’t describe why his stomach begins to flutter as heat begins to rise to his face. It was around that time that you cleared your throat, causing him to drop the magazine. He began to stammer, lamely trying  to come up with an excuse.

“I was… I was just looking for your walkie talkies.” He mumbled,face bright red.

“They’re in the same place they’re always been Martin… under the bed.”

“Oh..” He offered lamely. 

Your eyes cut over to the box, various objects strewn about, once your eyes land on the magazine laying face down on the carpet, you have to bite down on the insides of your cheeks. Once his eyes followed where yours land, he flushed even deeper. He quickly reaches for the magazine tossing it back into the box.

“Did you find anything interesting?” You smirk

“I’m sorry…”

“Why?” 

“I’m sorry I went through your things. I-I didn’t mean to pry I just… I saw the cover and I was just surprised.”

You kneel down beside him as you start to help collect your things “It’s fine Martin, I have nothing to hide. You can go through my things if you like… I doubt you’ll find anything interesting.” 

He lets out a snort of amusement as he gestures towards the box.

“Oh yeah… that.”

“Why do you even have that magazine...I mean those guys don’t really seem like your type.”

“I don’t have a type” You shrug. “And they just sent it to me… it was because I ordered some other things. You were nose deep by the time I got upstairs… you see anything you like?” 

He opened his mouth to speak before rolling his eyes.  “No… I think I’m good…”

You decided to change the subject, though numerous questions began to form in his brain, the images seemed to be etched into his mind.  A lot of things about you seemed to click into place.

Sometime later that evening, he caved in and asked a simple question. “So it’s supposed to feel good?”

“Of course.”

“How? It seems like it would hurt.”

“Well it can, if you don't take adequate precautions. It’s pretty much just  like sex in general.”

More probing questions, you ended up explaining basic male anatomy, he seemed insatiable for more knowledge.

“Martin… do you want me to?”

His eyes widen, mouth falling ajar. “No! I mean.. I don-- No. I was just curious.”

“Okay then…” You kiss him lightly on the cheek “But do know if you change your mind.”

And with that you turned over to your side, flicking off the light leaving him alone with his thoughts.

~

That was almost two weeks ago, and at this point he had to admit he had grown a bit obsessed. You explained everything to him about the male g spot, all the while he listened with bated breath.  He couldn’t possibly be considering it- he just wanted to know, call it plain old curiosity. He didn’t linger in one particular area in the shower trying to see if he could make anything feel good. He imagined you taking him in the worst possible ways. Would you even bother to be gentle? It soon became a staple part of his fantasies when you were away, he imagined you turning him face down onto his chest. Your smooth hands roaming along his lower back, spreading him apart, leaving him completely exposed. Why did he want it? He wanted it with you--perhaps it was just to quell his curiosity.

This was as far as he ever took it. Two fingers deep, spine arching off the bed. He finally got the briefest taste of what he was missing out on, but his fingers were clumsy, the second the spark rose it was gone.  He accidentally spilled some of the lube on the sheets. He would surely have to clean that up later. If only he could just reach a bit…

His lips fall open as a keening whimper escapes his throat… what was that? How could it possibly feel so good? A sharp jolt of pleasure, unlike anything that he ever could have imagined. It sent his heels driving into the mattress. He repeats the motion of his fingers and his spine practically arches off the bed. That was it. 

You toss your keys absentmindedly on the drawer as your eyes survey the living room. There was no sign of Martin though you knew he was home. You figured he must be asleep. With a sigh you move to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for a bottle of soda. You could hear a distinct knock above you. It sounded like something bumping against the wall. Odd. You place the bottle on the counter as you head upstairs. 

His heart was pounding, threatening to explode within his chest, It became easier once he propped his right knee against his chest. No holds barred he began to plunge into himself relentlessly, every time his fingers brushed against that intangible place. He was panting, moans slipping out occasionally, but for the most part he struggled to find his breath. Sweat glued him to the sheets his hand began to cramp, but he was convinced that if he stopped, he’d die. 

You pause at the top of the stairs, eyes focused on your bedroom. The door was slightly ajar leaving a steam of sunlight beaming into the otherwise dark hallway. You could hear… noise.. It sounds so familiar, as you step in, you can recognize them as moans.  Anger flares within your chest before you calm. It was not the first time you caught Martin spending some time ‘alone’. As you step in close, the sounds become more distinct. You can clearly hear the sound of your name on his lips.  With a sigh you carefully peer in, nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you. 

His left knee was locked behind his elbow, his entire body seemed to be slick with sweat. The most beautiful but bordering on obscene noises escape his throat. And his hand… Jesus…

His hand wasn’t poised over his cock as you would expect, instead it was plunging into himself relentlessly, as you lean you can practically hear the sound of his fingers working him open. Heat began to rise to your face. 

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer as he began to rock against his hand. He needed his fingers to go deeper you could tell. All he had to do was ask. He sits back on his left elbow, as he lets his leg fall back onto the bed. Head thrown back in sheer ecstasy, you can actually see the force of release.

He collapses back against the sheets, utterly spend as you decide whether or not to alert him that you were home.

[lady-divine-writes]

Helping Hand (Rated T)

Some people are meant to be together. Everybody knows it the second they see them. Aziraphale and Crowley are two such souls who should be together. But fear and stubbornness keep them from taking that first leap. ... At three o'clock one sunny afternoon , someone takes it upon themselves to give them a little push. (1499 words)

(AO3)

“Kiss me, angel.”

Aziraphale’s head snaps up, yanking his gaze unceremoniously from his book and aiming it squarely on the demon who has slid onto the park bench beside him. “I’m sorry … what?”

“Kiss me.”

Aziraphale leans back a hair. “Why?”

“You see that woman over there?” Crowley motions with his chin but keeps his face alarmingly close to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale turns slightly and takes a peek at the woman in question dressed in a stylish white pant suit, casually walking in their general direction, set to pass them by fairly soon if she follows her current course. He notices her eyes dart their way, resting an inch past his face. Resting on Crowley. She smiles and winks – executively flirty, Aziraphale would call it.

He groans low in his throat, shakes his head and returns to his book.

“Oh dear Lord. You don’t have me caught up in one of your temptations, do you? Can’t you implant whatever you want in her mind without us actually having to … you know …?”

Crowley jerks back as if that comment physically slapped him across the face. “Ah, I see. So what you’re saying is you don’t want to kiss me.”

“I never said that,” Aziraphale replies, cool as a cucumber, turning the page without finishing the one before. He wants to appear unfazed by Crowley’s suggestion, or his accusation, occupied by something other than this conversation. Something other than the thought of kissing him. “What I’m saying is …”

“… you do want to kiss me.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale shuts his eyes in frustration. “No. No, not no, but not yes … look, this isn’t a discussion we should be having here!”

“Then where do you want to have it?” Crowley’s voice slides to a murmur that crawls beneath Aziraphale’s skin, makes him uncomfortable in a warm and tingly sort of way. “Your shop or my flat?”

“Neither. I just … me … I mean, I … and you … urgh!” Aziraphale slams his book shut, accidentally trapping his finger in the process. “Why are you trying to confuse me?”

“I’m not trying to confuse you!”

“Then what exactly are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to kiss you.”

“Wha---oh. I don’t … I don’t understand. Are you … asking me?”

“Yes, Aziraphale.” Crowley moves again, sitting far too close to make decision making easy. He glances once at the angel’s lips, then changes his mind and takes a longer, more leisurely look. Aziraphale breathes in, shuddering the longer that look lasts, but that doesn’t shame Crowley into looking away. “I’m asking you to kiss me.”

“Here?” Aziraphale looks nervously around. “Now?”

“No one’s watching.”

Aziraphale doesn’t need to use his powers to know Crowley is right about that. Aside from that woman (Wait! He just remembered … isn’t she watching? Crowley is tempting her after all …) there are a handful of kids playing tag on the far side of the park, and four covert agents standing at the pond with their backs to them, feeding ducks and exchanging secrets, none of them particularly interested in the angel and demon arguing over a kiss.

“But I’ve never … I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Crowley scoots in, close enough to rub noses. “Neither have I. Makes this more exciting, don’t ya think?”

“I suppose …”

“First things first, since I realize I caught you off guard and all – do you want to kiss me?”

Aziraphale’s mouth opens before he consciously thinks to speak. Luckily, he catches himself before he can say something silly … like no. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Right. So … what are you waiting for?”

“Okay.” Aziraphale shifts in his seat, swallows down a bitter mouthful of anxiety. “Should we count to three or …?”

Crowley cuts him off with his lips against his, swallowing the end of his sentence, replacing the words in his mouth with heat and longing. It’s not a long kiss, not one with the most finesse, but dear God! Aziraphale feels it straight through his body, right down to the soles of his feet. It moves through him, ferreting out his secrets – desires he didn’t even know he had about a future with his demon and everything that could entail. Everything he never dreamed of.

Things he thought were reserved for mortals only.

This kiss seeds his thoughts, plants the things he inspires in others – love and hope and happiness.

And family.

Crowley moves away when he feels Aziraphale stop breathing, concerned and confused by this reaction until he sees the smile on Aziraphale’s face, the way his eyes glow a soft, tranquil blue when he opens them.

When Aziraphale moves his mouth to speak, Crowley is certain he’s going to ask him to kiss him again.

Instead, he says, “Why?”

Mildly offended, Crowley asks, “Why wut?”

“Why did you rush in like that?”

Crowley grins. “Because sometimes, my love, you think too much.”

Aziraphale nods sharply. “Right. Two can play at that game, I think.” He kisses Crowley back before the demon gets the chance, swallowing a laugh but tasting a moan when Aziraphale gets a bit daring and puts a hand on his knee.

This kiss. is. the one.

The first kiss was nice as far as first kisses go, but this …

This is the kiss they get lost in.

It’s not so much about future, but about fire.

It’s the second half of the coin, the savory to Crowley’s sweet, and all because this time, Aziraphale kissed first.

Crowley reaches out, puts a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, sliding it across to support him as he bends him back, ready to resume control.

If Aziraphale feels like giving it.

Crowley’s other arm settles at the small of Aziraphale’s back, holding him tight.

And Aziraphale drops his book.

“So, gentlemen … how’d that work?”

Aziraphale pulls back with a start. He would have crashed to the bench if not for Crowley’s arm holding him. “Uh …” he stammers, his cheeks flushing red when he sees the woman’s face peering down at him.

For a second, he fears he’s in trouble, though he doesn’t know why.

Crowley answers for them: “Worked a treat. Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” The smile on her face beams as if it has the sun behind it. “You dropped this.” She holds out the book – a collection of works by Oscar Wilde – that Aziraphale is too stunned and embarrassed to take. She puts it on the bench beneath his back, then resumes walking her way. “Have a nice day, Crowley. Aziraphale.”

“You as well,” Crowley says, forgetting about her quickly, more than ready to start kissing his angel again.

“Is she … American?” Aziraphale asks. Her voice didn’t exactly fit her face, but it also sounded familiar, like he might have heard it in a movie. He can’t seem to place it, think as he might. And he does think on it - hard, even while Crowley does his darndest to seduce him. That makes Aziraphale chuckle to himself.

Crowley is right. He does think too much.

“Dunno. Didn’t ask.” Crowley decides not to wait any longer and starts kissing Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale moves his chin up, lengthening the column of his throat, all the while frowning at the woman as he watches her go.

“Wait a minute - isn’t she one of your assignments?”

“No.”

“Then what did she have to do with all this?”

“I met her by the duck pond. She gave me advice. That’s pretty much it.”

“She gave you advice on kissing?”

“No – on how to get you to kiss …” Crowley looks up, his forehead wrinkling, the most bizarrely contemplative expression on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t … I don’t think I told her our names.” Crowley looks over his shoulder. The woman is nowhere to be seen. But his angel is, there in front of him. In his arms, as a matter of fact. And if the pucker of his lips is anything to go by, Crowley doesn’t think he’d object to being kissed again. So he does just that, wrapping his arms around him along with cloaked wings, shielding him, with the help of some demonic magic, from the public eye.

Then there’s nothing left to see of the angel and demon making out on a park bench at three in the afternoon.

The woman in the white suit looks over her shoulder at them, straight through Crowley’s magic, and smiles.

“Dear Me,” she mutters. “It’s about frickin’ time. Only took them 6000 years. Don’t know what they were waiting for. The end of the world? Oh …” She chuckles darkly “… wait …”

She reaches the tree line, out of notice of the mortals, and transforms into a small, white dove. She banks over the park, doing one last check on the kids, the ducks, the foreign agents, Aziraphale and Crowley. Done with Her business for the day, she flies up into the clouds and heads home.

[whyamistillwatchingtheseshows]

Sorry for sending wrongly lol it's me, my keyboard went mad and i couldn't finish my request sorry, Idk if your taking any requests now. Could write something like beam feels insecure at the begining of their relationship simply because he doesn't think he's forth's type and this kinda increased at times when seeing wayo. Idk sorry for bothering you and the awful idea. But idk i always thought forth going from Yo to beam might make beam think about it sometimes. Thank u, sorry for the trouble.

As I said these two are my chef’s kiss, my jam! My bread and butter. My peanut butter and jelly. So this is why I can write so fast for them. Plus, it also helps when one feels so akin to a character as I do with Beam. Also there’s nothing terrible about this idea. Forth did go from like: “hey, I’m going to flirt with that angry submissive who just dumped pink milk in a trash can and kicked it over.” to “shit I slept with my best friend, what are those feelings? Oh, let’s flirt with him instead and make this one my boyfriend.” Beam’s insecurity would be understandable. Here we go: 

Beam knew he was shy. No doubt. He was painfully, awkwardly, introvert shy. However, he didn’t think he was as shy as Wayo. That boy always looked meek and Beam often wondered if it was just a performance for Pha. Beam certainly hoped that Forth didn’t find him that meek. There was a time when Forth wanted to pursue Wayo and that baffled Beam. Even as the four couples sat for an evening dinner (the third time this week), Beam felt more confused than ever by the fact that Forth once wanted Wayo. What did that mean for him? Could Forth so easily switch type? Fall in love so hard? What’s the catch? 

“P’Pha!” Wayo’s whine jarred Beam from out of his head. “Stop it.” Of course. Pha was nauseatingly pressing kisses into Yo’s cheek. Beam had a sudden image of Forth doing the same thing and that made even more nauseous. He covered his mouth. Forth put a hand to his shoulder. 

“Are you alright Beam?” He nodded an okay. Forth squeezed his shoulder. They were at an outdoor restaurant with long benches and a buffet line to get the meats, veggies etc. The four couple(s) broke apart and then brought food back to the table. A silence lingered over them so Beam watched his friends as they ate. Okay, so by watched, he meant a lingering gaze on Pha and Yo, sometimes the image of Forth replaced Pha. At one point it became so vivid that Beam threw his fork down onto the plate. 

This made everyone freeze and look at him. Great. All eyes on him. Peachy. “Are you feeling well?” Forth put a hand to his forehead as if to assume a sudden fever broke. If it were actually that Beam wouldn’t mind. That he could handle. It was hard to handle that nagging voice in his head that kept saying, does Forth really like you? You’re nothing like Yo. He’s an innocent, sheepish guy (though they all learned, especially Pha that Wayo could be a vindictive little shit). Pha did that thing to Wayo’s cheek again and Beam cracked his neck. 

Little did he know, Forth observed everything. Don't imagine Forth across from you. He’s right next to you. Maybe a hand on his thigh, could convince you? Beam did just as he thought and caressed a thigh. Forth responded by intertwining fingers into that hand. Okay, so he’s there. He’s responding to your touch. But why the fuck is he over there too? Beam closed his eyes in frustration. They popped back open and Pha no longer existed. It was another Forth ruffling Wayo’s hair and whispering let’s go get more food. Vivid as fuck was the mental image as they walked to the buffet. 

“I too have concerns like Forth,” Kit spoke up and nudged Beam’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” Beam noticed that he did have the best seat at the bench. Forth to his right. Kit on his left. That was nice, but it was doing nothing to satiate his pathetic mind that kept asking, why does Forth like you? You are not like Yo who is frankly a chew toy for someone as dominant as Forth, even Pha. 

“Hey!” Forth’s hazing voice boomed. “Beam!” He shook his head and looked at his boyfriend. “That’s it. We’re leaving.” Ming and Kit waved them off. Pha and Yo came back to the table. Pha gave Kit ‘a what gives’ look. 

“Beam’s not feeling well.” Kit told Pha. The four of them finished their dinner without questioning any further. If Kit wanted he could probably get it out of Beam later. 

__

Forth watched as Beam erratically paced up and down the room. Up and down. Up and...down. Forth shook his head from dizziness or annoyance, he couldn’t tell which. “Babe!” Forth yelled. “Stop!’ His voice was soft, but demanding. Beam slowed his pace and then stopped. Forth jumped from the sofa and lifted Beam’s head by the chin. “What is going on?’ 

“Why do you like me? I mean, you once wanted to flirt your way to being Wayo’s boyfriend and then suddenly we sleep together once and you’ve changed your mind? You didn’t even want to give Pha a challenge?” Forth’s fingers fell from his chin. 

“I suppose that’s how much you changed my mind. Sure, I could’ve made Pha’s life a living hell, the two of us batting Wayo back and forth like a cat bats at yarn, but that night with you- well- it was an epiphany of sorts. A realization that there is someone in front of me, someone that has been my friend who I’ve had fun with and just maybe I want to explore the idea of being his boyfriend. Thus, cue my flirting with you. You agreeing to be boyfriend by way of a hammer dropping on my head...I wouldn’t trade any of this to go back to flirting with Wayo. It’s clear where that little guy’s feelings lie. It’s with Pha who,” Forth now grips Beam by the waist, “admittedly terrifies the fuck out of me and that’s saying something.” 

Beam laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d murder both you and Ming if either of you broke mine or Kit’s heart. It’s true. He’d plan to a level of perfect crime detail so that way he could still be with Wayo.” 

“Well, if that happened then I'd at least know you have Kit. Just hope the two of you don't sleep together too soon after our deaths,” Forth jokes. Beam smacked him on the chest.  

“I’m just taking a page from your vivid imagination Beam. Though, there’s no plan to break your heart.” Forth gave him a quick kiss to the cheek then changed the subject back to what they should be talking about, “Are you going to tell me what was going on at the dinner table?” 

“Nope. That will stay buried in my subconscious. For now,” Beam wrapped arms around Forth’s neck, “I want to do something else. Give me a good reason and I mean a good reason as to why you wanted me to so desperately be your boyfriend?” 

“There’s not one good reason. There’s several but the ultimate reason is because you’re fucking adorable even when you’re angry.” Forth flashed back to when he bluffed Beam. A mildly annoyed Beam felt put on the spot, having admitted true feelings for him. Forth didn’t regret pinning him to that pick up and kissing him. That boy was wearing fucking adorable pajamas, because of course, he packed pajamas for the trip. Forth chuckled to himself. 

“What is it?” Beam lays their foreheads together. Forth yanked him closer as if the space between them wasn’t already closed. 

“Yeah, you’re fucking adorable, kind, generous, sweet. The list can go on and on, but what Beam needs to understand is that I don't think about Wayo anymore. Not even a little. I think about you, I think about those eyes, those lips, this hair...” Forth caressed a hand up to a cheek and a few fingers brushed into Beam’s hair. They smiled at each other and then Forth hungrily locked their lips. Beam hoped this would be enough reassurance to suffice that nagging voice inside his head. Too bad it couldn’t shut it up entirely, but for now, this will do.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 6

Ask: oh my god! what if the parents from your “farmer’s daughter” fic found a wealthy man and they wanted him and their daughter to “get together” so they arranged some kind of a meeting for them. Since the girl knows Arthur there’s literally nothing this guy, her parents found, can impress her with. When she’s about to be bored to death they dump into Arthur in town? He rescues her and they take off, he gets a little jealous and it ends up in some smut in the bushes?! oh pretty please! love you!

Warning: Cursing, smut.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader.

A/N: I fucking loved writing this omfg. hope you love it as much as I do!

A week later and you hadn’t seen Arthur since. You were worried to pieces, even though he had told you before that sometimes he had to travel for work unexpectedly. It was hard not to think of everything that could have happened to him. And to make it worse, the last thing he had said to you was ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’. Maybe if he didn’t say that you wouldn’t be in such a bad state of mind.

Also, unknowing to you, your parents had been up to something for the whole week you had been stressing over Arthur. If you hadn’t been under so much mental pressure you would have noticed they were planning something.

The day they had been out they met up with their two longtime friends in Saint Denis. They had a son named Thomas a few years older than you, you’d met him once when you were both very young but neither of you remembered it. Since you were both of age now, his and your parents decided it would be a good idea to spring a meeting upon you. Of course Thomas knew about it, why wouldn’t he? It seemed everyone knew about it besides you.

You were in the garden reading a book trying to distract yourself when they decided to spring the whole thing upon you. You sat on your favorite bench under your mother’s lemon tree, halfway through the book when you heard the sound of footsteps on grass.

“There you are!” Your father said as though he had been looking for you for hours. “Come inside, we have some very special guests I’d like you to meet.”

You squinted up at him and sighed, putting your pressed leaves between your pages. “They’re worth me putting my book down?”

He hummed and pretended to be deep in thought. After a moment he snapped his fingers and clicked his tongue. “Yes! They are. Now come on. Don’t keep them waiting.”

“Alright, alright.” You rolled your eyes and stood up from the bench, brushing off some of the jasmine flowers that had gathered in your lap.

Once inside you were met with three people, all with their backs towards you. They were all dressed nicely, especially the tallest man.

When your mother saw you came in her eyes brightened up and she smiled widely. “(Y/N)! You remember Mr. and Ms. Dewitt, don’t you?”

The name rang a bell, but when they turned around you had no idea who they were. “Of course I do!” You smiled, not wanting to be rude. “How could I forget?”

The couple, obviously pleased with your response, smiled widely and complimented you and your dress. They exchanged small talk for a while before their true reason for visiting was to reintroduce you to their son.

“You remember Thomas, don’t you?” Ms. Dewitt asked, referring to the overdressed man next to her. “Our son?”

You put on another smile and lied again with a nod of your head. “It’s been so long I almost forgot!” You laughed, causing everyone else to chuckle as well.

“Excuse me for saying this, but, I just can’t help but be struck by your beauty.” He said in a wonder-filled voice. “When my parents told me you were beautiful I didn’t take them serious enough.” Wow, where did that come from?

The first thing you did was recoil in surprise but you were quick to correct yourself. “Oh, thank you!” You pretended to be bashful, knowing that’s what was expected of you. You had manners but they would only extend so far, you hoped your parents didn’t expect anything to come of this.

“(Y/N),” Mr. Dewitt started and you looked at him with a smile. “My wife and I have made reservations at the new diner in Saint Denis for the two of you to have lunch. Why don’t you head out now so you can have time to catch up on the ride?”

You looked at your parents in surprise but they didn’t seem to notice. Had they been in on it too, you wondered? Well, you were around the age your mother was when she married your father. You supposed they thought it was time for you to find a husband as well.

“Oh, of course. How generous of the two of you!” You said when you regained your bearings. “I’ve been wanting to go there for a while now, thank you so much for the opportunity.”

“Of course darling!” Ms. Dewitt beamed along with her husband, they were clearly pleased with your reaction.

“We’ll be off then, it was wonderful seeing you again, Mr. and Ms. (L/N).” Thomas said and crossed the room to take your arm in his. Before you could tell your parents goodbye he was walking you out the front door.

In some way you had to be grateful to your parents, the whole ordeal took your mind off of Arthur for a bit. The surprise of it all was so intense you had trouble processing it Normally, your parents were very open and communicative with everything in their lives. The fact they kept this a secret from you was so strange you still wondered if you were missing something.

“A wonderful day, isn’t it?” Thomas said as he helped you up on the wagon he and his family rode in on.

“It definitely is.” You sighed and got comfortable. Hopefully, today would go by quickly. You just wanted to get it over with and come back home.

“Are you familiar with the sport of archery?” Jesus, why did this guy talk like that all the time? That was going to get annoying quick.

“Sure am.” You worked on pushing back your cuticles.

“Well, what do you think of it?”

You looked at him with a tired expression and forced a smile. “I think it’s great.”

Thomas smiled back and whipped the reigns, forcing the horses to go faster. You looked to your side at the landscape passing by and wished for something to happen so this already dreadful date would end. Sophisticated men were always so fucking boring. You wished you were with Arthur instead.

Oh, Arthur. Your heart ached at the thought.

“So, your father sells horses, does he?” He asked and pulled a cigar from his coat pocket. After lighting it he pulled a big puff of smoke and blew it out, not noticing that it had blown directly in your face.

“Yes.” You waved the smoke away.

“Good business?”

“Yes.”

He made a humming sound and offered you the cigar. You politely declined and watched the trees pass by. You were almost in town, thank god.

“You ever hold one of these?” You looked back to him and saw he was holding a revolver in his hand, still driving with the other.

“Woah, jesus!” You laughed nervously. The last thing you expected was to see a gun in the hands of a stranger who was supposed to be a gentleman.

He laughed, mistaking your nervousness for something else. “It was my fathers. He gave it to me for my twenty-fourth birthday.” He flipped the gun around, admiring it. “Would you like to shoot it?”

“No thank you.”

“I insist!”

You looked at him with furrowed brows, your top lip raised in confusion and a little bit of disgust. Where did his manners go? “Fine.” You took the gun from him and tried to resist the urge to shoot him. You pulled the hammer back and fired at a passing tree, missing it because one of the wheels ran over a large rock.

Thomas grinned and took the gun back from you. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You crossed your arms and watched as he fired at another tree, totally ignoring the fact that you were entering town and he was being extremely irresponsible. When he hit the easy target he laughed and blew out a large puff of smoke, looking to you with a smile. Arthur could shoot better. And he wasn’t cocky about it.

“Impressive.” You lied and watched the people you passed walking on the sidewalk. Right when you passed the stables you swore you saw a familiar face, but he wasn’t looking in your direction so you couldn’t be sure.

“Would you mind if I stopped by the post office? I should only take a second.”

“Of course not.” You yawned and took interest in the lake off to the side. A few people were fishing and you saw two men arguing over something serious.

Once Thomas went inside you sighed and picked up his still burning cigar from his seat, taking a mouthful of smoke. You didn’t mind cigars since you didn’t actually inhale the smoke. Cigarettes, on the other hand-

“(Y/N)?”

At the sound of that thick accent you looked down and saw Arthur standing there with a confused expression. “Arthur!” You gasped with a wide smile and jumped off the wagon onto him.

“Jesus!” He grunted and caught you, laughing in surprise at your excitement. “Been that long, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You sighed and kissed him, finding comfort in his large, warm form.

“I thought that was you I saw with this pretty boy.” He set you on your feet, nodding his head to Thomas in the post office.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “It’s been the most boring hour of my life. My parents set this whole thing up with the intentions of starting something between us.”

Arthur frowned, looking back into the post office. He looked angry, unreasonably angry. “You wanna get the hell out of here, then?”

“You know I do!”

Arthur whistled for his horse and hoisted you up, taking his sweet time in climbing on. It was like he wanted Thomas to see you run off together.

You rode off, continuing in the direction you were going with Thomas until you were out of Saint Denis. He only stopped when you were deep in the woods, and even then he continued a little more. When he finally came to a halt he basically dragged you off of the horse, pinning you against the nearest tree and smashing his lips against your own.

“Fuck, Arthur!” You gasped against his mouth as he hoisted up your dress and yanked down your small clothes. “What, where-”

“Be quiet.” He breathed and suddenly he was inside you, forcing his cock deep until he couldn’t any more. He let out a long shudder and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and biting your sensitive skin.

You moaned and nuzzled your face into his hair, closing your eyes. “Arthur.” You exhaled and pulled him closer to you. “Oh, Arthur.”

“That feel good?” He grunted and started moving quickly. “Yeah?” He gave a particularly rough thrust and forced a yelp out of you.

“Oh! Yes!” You moaned and threw your head back, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm came out of nowhere. “Fuck!”

Arthur bit down roughly on your neck, hard enough to leave deep red marks that would surely turn into bruises later. He came with three quick thrusts and let out a loud groan, his breath shaky and labored. “God damnit, woman.”

He let you down and you pulled up your clothes with vibrating hands. “Where did that come from?” You stuttered and watched him buckle his belt.

“Just didn’t like the idea of you marrying some rich boy.” He admitted shamelessly. “I swear, one day I’m gonna take you away from there and we won’t have to hide anymore.”

You smiled at the thought. “That would be the day.”

@strawberrymigraines

[vexedtonightmares]

La Fin Des Temps Chapter 19 (Elu Hogwarts AU)

Mardi 17:21 - “The chosen one”

Eliott had practically been living in Lucas’ dormitory since Friday night, and Lucas was glad for it. Thankfully, none of his roommates had complained about it, and it's not like they weren't already used to living with four other people and their pets anyway. What was one more?

Eliott also hadn’t been back to class yet, but he’d talked with the headmistress about the plans that had been made without his consent to send him to St. Mungo’s. She’d reluctantly agreed to let him stay at school and gave him a week long grace period to get back into the swing of things, not fully understanding how difficult that might be. At least it was something, Eliott had told Lucas before burying his head in Lucas’ chest the night before.

Lucas had been cautiously optimistic all weekend. He and Eliott had basically spent the entire day in bed on Saturday, not talking much, kissing every once and awhile, mostly just cuddling and falling asleep in each others arms. Eliott didn’t smile easily and Lucas knew not to take it personally, that this was something Eliott would have to go through, but at least he knew now that he wasn’t alone.

Sunday Eliott had felt good enough to move down to the common room, spending most of the day with his legs draped over Lucas or playing with Ouba while Lucas worked on his homework. The smiles were still few and far between, but when they came they lit up the entire room. Lucas did everything he could to make sure Eliott knew that he didn’t have to pretend at all, that he could let him know if things were too overwhelming or if he just wanted time to himself. Things had been so good on Sunday that Lucas had been unprepared for Monday.

He’d planned to skip his classes to stay with Eliott, but when they woke up in the morning, Eliott had snapped at Lucas and shut him out completely, leaving Lucas conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to be there for Eliott, but on the other, he didn’t want to smother him with unwanted attention. He’d eventually decided to go to class, leaving a note for Eliott and trying his best to get on with his day.

The boys had noticed his uneasy demeanor, and had encouraged him to take some time for himself. Yes, Eliott’s health and wellbeing was important, but so was Lucas’. He couldn’t put his entire life on hold to take care of Eliott who, from his earlier comments, hadn’t wanted to be taken care of all the time anyway. Basile had shared some more experiences about his life with his mother, and it had allowed Lucas to exhale and gain some insight into how he should approach their situation. The last thing he wanted to do was act like a parent to Eliott, but he still wasn’t certain how to strike a balance between caring too much and too little.

That night when he’d returned to his dormitory, Eliott had been absent, leaving a note that he was sleeping in his own room. Lucas’ heart had sunk upon reading it, but maybe it was a good thing. Maybe Eliott needed alone time to feel a bit more like himself. Fuck, Lucas really had no idea what he was doing. But that’s ok, he’d told himself. He didn’t have to know how to handle everything in his life perfectly all the time, as much as he wished he could.

By Tuesday morning, Lucas had still been a mess, but had accepted the fact that he may very well feel like that for quite some time. Maybe that made him less of a mess than he thought.

When he got back to his dormitory after classes he sent Eliott a simple message telling him that he hoped he was doing well and to let him know if he needed anything, hoping it would suffice. Arthur had said he’d been sleeping in the Ravenclaw dormitory all day, so Lucas wasn’t expecting a response, at least not a quick one.

He flopped back onto his bed and pressed his hands over his eyes, sighing deeply. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled mindlessly through his Instagram feed to distract himself.

He sat up in his bed as he looked at the last picture, posted from the account he and Eliott had made for Brian as a joke. The timestamp said that it had been posted minutes ago, which meant that Eliott was probably awake and, from the looks of it, on his phone. As if the thought had prompted a response, Lucas’ phone vibrated with a new message. He took a moment before looking at it, not wanting to appear like he had been staring at his phone waiting for a response.

srodulv: i’m doing ok. can we talk?

Lucas bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over a proper response in his head. He knew that the words can we talk shouldn’t strike such a chord of fear inside him, but wasn’t that what people always said when they were going to break up? The past weekend had its ups and downs, sure, but he’d thought that they were at least on the same page, relationship wise. Maybe he was just overthinking.

lucallemant: Of course, do you want me to come to your dormitory?

srodulv: actually, could you meet me under the stadium?

lucallemant: In the place I took you to?

srodulv: yes.

srodulv: i hope that’s ok…

lucallemant: Of course it is, meet you there in 5?

srodulv: meet you in 5

A part of Lucas was deeply satisfied that Eliott had felt a similar connection to his refuge, while the other part remained worried, especially given Eliott’s cryptic and somber responses. He stood up, looking around for his favorite hoodie to throw on before he went outside, brows furrowing when he couldn’t find it. Maybe Yann had taken it or something. Instead, he found one of Eliott’s hoodies lying on the edge of his trunk, basically asking for him to wear it. If he was lucky, Eliott wouldn’t recognize it and he could keep it for as long as he wanted, relishing in the scent.

He became more and more anxious as he made his way to the stadium, conflicting emotions running through his head. By the time he arrived he nearly felt like he was going to piss himself, which probably wasn’t a good thing but he couldn’t help it.

“Eliott?” he whispered, lighting his wand. It was still light out, but the area under the stands was always a bit dim, even when the sun was high in the sky.

“I’m here,” Eliott responded, stepping into Lucas’ view. Oh, so that was where his hoodie had gone. Lucas knew that wasn’t the reason Eliott had asked him here, but he couldn’t help but be dumbfounded for a moment by how good the hoodie looked on Eliott. He could find a different favorite hoodie if Eliott agreed to wear this one forever.

“Hi,” Lucas said, stepping closer. His gaze flickered down to Eliott’s lips, then back up to his eyes. Eliott’s gaze was resting on a point just above Lucas’ head, something Lucas noticed that he tended to do when he was uncomfortable.

Eliott finally brought his eyes down to rest on Lucas’ face and his whole expression softened a small amount. “Hi.”

“So what’s up?” Lucas asked, trying to sound casual. The last actual words they had exchanged hadn’t been entirely civil, at least on Eliott’s part, and while it had taken Lucas a total of ten minutes to forgive him, he wasn’t sure Eliott knew that.

As if he’d read Lucas’ mind, Eliott sighed, “I’m sorry, for yesterday. You didn’t deserve that.”

Lucas shook his head immediately. “It’s fine, Eliott, I get it.”

“No, you don’t.” Eliott’s voice was soft, but firm, a bit like he was frustrated and dejected at the same time. “And it’s not fine. No one should treat you like that, and you shouldn’t just accept it.”

“Eliott, I promise, it’s ok,” Lucas emphasized, “This is all just a bit new to me, which is ok. New doesn’t mean bad, it just takes getting used to.”

Eliott scoffed ruefully. “You say that now. I won’t always be nice to you, or anyone, like I was yesterday. It hurts me inside after the fact, but in the moment I don’t care as much. It’s a big part of why Lucille and I aren’t as close as we once were. I mean, we’re still pretty close, but the relationship will never be what it was. Somewhere along the way she became my mother or my nurse, not my best friend. I can’t let the same thing happen to us. “It won’t,” Lucas promised.

Eliott blinked up at the ceiling. “And how do you know that? Will you say the same when I lie to you about taking my meds? Because that will happen. It’s why all this happened in the first place. I tend to do it when I feel good, and I feel good with you.”

Lucas reached up to cup Eliott’s face with his hands. “I feel good with you too.”

Eliott shrugged out of Lucas’ grip, walking around him to lean against one of the stadium’s support beams. “Maybe, but it will change. I know it will. And it will be my fault. I--” he broke off, tears filling his eyes. He coughed, continuing in an unsteady voice, “I don’t want that. It’s the last thing I would ever want.”

“You don’t know that,” Lucas cut in, adapting Eliott’s earlier statement.

“Lucas--” Eliott tried, but Lucas wasn’t done.

“You don’t know that. Some dark wizard might come and invade the school tomorrow, then none if this will matter at all. Sure, that seems pretty unlikely, but it doesn’t mean it could never happen. And on the other side, just because something seems likely to happen in your mind, that doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. I’ll fuck up too, I’ll yell at you, I’ll get angry and ignore you, and I’m not even bipolar.” Lucas looked into Eliott’s eyes pleadingly.

Eliott just shook his head. “Lucas, you don’t understand.”

“Yes I do, Eliott. So what, you’re bipolar? So what, you experience some emotions a bit more than everybody else? Maybe that means you get angry with me more often than I get angry with you, but if that’s true then that means you also probably show me more love than I could ever even try to show you. And it’s not because I’m not trying, either, you just experience life and love a little bit differently than I do, and that’s ok. It’s ok. We are who we are, and we just have to accept people as they are. Understand them instead of trying to change them. I’ll fuck it up sometimes, and so will you, but all that matters is that we’re trying.” Lucas took a step towards Eliott, a tear forming in the corner of his own eye.

Eliott was silent, but didn’t argue as Lucas lifted his arms and wrapped them around Eliott’s neck, pulling their faces close together. “I’d rather have you annoy me or make me angry than not have you at all,” he said softly, with a feeling that he couldn’t totally identify.

The corners of Eliott’s mouth turned up into a hesitant smile and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead further into Lucas’. Lucas’ heart pumped steadily against his ribcage, threatening to burst its way through as a wave of love surged through him at the sight of even such a small smile. It was the most genuine one he’d given in weeks, since before their night in Paris. The first time they’d said I love you.

Lucas brushed his thumbs on Eliott’s cheekbones, and Eliott opened his eyes. “From now on, we’ll just take things day by day, ok?” Lucas suggested. Eliott didn’t look totally convinced, so Lucas shook his head, amending his statement. “No, we’ll take it minute by minute. Minute par minute, if you prefer,” he added, smiling.

“Minute par minute,” Eliott repeated.

“Minute par minute.”

They look at each other for a moment, neither one saying a word. Lucas loved moments like this, where the two of them just existed together. It was these moments that Lucas could convince himself that they were the only two people left on Earth, soulmates from the beginning of time to the end. “La fin des temps,” he said finally, and Eliott’s expression closed off somewhat.

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” he decided, and Eliott’s face went from shameful to a bit curious. “La fin des temps means the end of time, sure, but it can also mean that’s how long I’ll love you. Until the end of time. It’s you and me, me and you, from now until la fin des temps, if you’ll have me.”

Eliott’s eyes shone as he gazed deeply into Lucas’ eyes, and, by extension, his soul. “I’ll have you. Of course I will.”

“Until la fin des temps?”

“Until la fin des temps.”

Eliott’s first kiss was soft, a bit unexpected, and it warmed Lucas from head to toe. There was a hesitancy to it, and that was part of what made it so special. There was no reason for either of them to be hesitant with one another, but they both respected the other enough to try, knowing that their relationship had a lot of room to grow from where it was now. Now was good, though, now was exactly what it was meant to be.

Lucas put his hand in Eliott’s hair on the second kiss, letting Eliott know that yes, this is good, I love this, I love you. Eliott’s hands cupped Lucas’ face on the third kiss, confirming that he knew what Lucas was feeling and that he felt the same. On the fourth kiss Lucas forgot that his lips were meant for anything other than kissing Eliott. On the fifth, Eliott thought the same thing. They broke apart after the sixth, gazing into one another’s eyes before Eliott wrapped his arms around Lucas’ head, and pulled him into the crook of his neck, laughing softly. It was the most glorious sound Lucas had ever heard.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” Lucas murmured into Eliott’s skin, not even knowing if Eliott had heard him or not.

A few smiles and a lot of kisses later, they emerged hand in hand, finally ready to take on the world and to take it on together. The Slytherin team was emerging from the changing rooms as Lucas and Eliott made their way across the field, earning them confused looks.

“All good?” Charles asked Lucas as he walked by, and Lucas nodded.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassured him, and Charles nodded once, narrowing his eyes, before turning back to his team and letting Lucas and Eliott walk the rest of the way across the field without interruption.

“Want to go back to my common room?” Lucas asked as they made their way back into the school. Eliott squeezed his hand, though Lucas didn’t know if it was meant to be a response or not.

“Aren’t your roommates sick of me?” Eliott asked.

Lucas scoffed. “Please. As if anyone could ever be sick of you. Also, they all like you better than me anyway, so there’s that.”

Now it was Eliott’s turn to scoff. “Please,” he imitated, “What’s not to love about a grumpy hedgehog?”

“That’s what I’m always saying…” Lucas joked, smiling as Eliott laughed though his nose, squeezing his hand more intentionally this time.

Lucas was surprised to find most of their friends lounging in the common room as they entered, all of them looking up and grinning when they saw the two of them together.

“Did I miss an invitation of some sort?” Lucas asked, making his way over to where the boys and girls were gathered and talking. Daphné perked up and widened her eyes at him. “No, but it’s good that you’re here. We could use your insight,” she said excitedly.

Eliott sat in the single empty chair in front of the fireplace scooting over enough that Lucas could sit with him. Lucas merely raised his eyebrows before sitting on Eliott’s lap, legs stretched out over the armrest. Eliott chuckled and wrapped his arms around Lucas, placing a small kiss in his hair before tuning in to the conversation.

“We’re planning something special for the inter-house unity club this Friday. The weather is supposed to be nice, so we were thinking of doing something outside, but we don’t know what,” Daphné explained.

“I voted party,” Alexia chimed in.

“We all did,” Emma added, laughing.

Daphné huffed at both of them. “Parties are not what this club is about.”

“There is no better way to unify the houses than a party,” Lucas pointed out, and Arthur quickly picked up his train of thought.

“Whenever there are parties, they’re always house specific, you know? Quidditch parties, house cup parties, whatever. They’re always in the common rooms, and they’re always limited to one house. Why not have a party for everyone?” Arthur suggested.

Daphné considered the idea carefully. “That’s a good point…”

Manon glanced at Lucas while Daphné weighed the idea, nudging her head up at Eliott, who wasn’t really paying much attention anymore, focused on playing with Lucas’ hair. Lucas smiled softly at her and glanced back up at Eliott. She grinned back, shooting him a covert thumbs up that he rolled his eyes at, but was appreciative of all the same.

There was a sudden absence of Eliott’s hands in his hair and Lucas looked up at Eliott again out of curiosity, but Eliott was just fiddling with his phone, typing something before setting it aside. Lucas wondered if he’d maybe reached back out to Idriss and Sofiane, but then he felt a buzz in his pocket. An Instagram notification from Eliott, who avoided Lucas’ gaze innocently as Lucas opened it.

It was a photo from their night in Paris, one that Lucas hadn’t entirely understood why Eliott had wanted to take it so badly. The caption explained it all, though. Sens de la vie, meaning of life, minute par minute, and la fin des temps. Without saying anything, Lucas pulled Eliott into a chaste kiss, letting him know that the message he’d chosen to write in his caption was exactly how Lucas felt as well.

“Get a room, please,” Imane said from across from them. Lucas flipped her off before pulling Eliott into another kiss out of spite.

“Forget house unity, our party should be a celebrating Elu party,” Alexia suggested, earning quite a few confused glances. She rolled her eyes and explained, “Oh come on. Elu? Eliott and Lucas? It’s their couple name.”

Lucas laughed quietly into Eliott’s chest and Alexia grimaced at him. “It’s not my fault you guys stole the ‘best couple’ position from Manon and Charles.”

“Hey!” Manon exclaimed, hitting Alexia playfully.

“Elu,” Eliott mumbled softly so only Lucas could hear, “The chosen one.”

“Hmm?” Lucas asked.

“In French. Elu can be translated to the chosen one in English.” Eliott’s face was radiant and soft at the same time, and Lucas fell in love for the millionth time that minute. “Because I choose you,” Eliott continued, “I’ll always choose you.”

Lucas’ heart was going to burst, and he wasn’t even a little mad about it. “I choose you, too.”

It was the easiest decision he’d ever made, even though it was a decision he’d actually made weeks and weeks ago. Because Eliott also gave his life meaning, because they’d both decided to take things minute by minute, and because all of those moments, all of those minutes would take them to the end of time.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

AO3

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[forever-rogue]

A Love in Snapshots

Summary: Brian had always been an avid photographer, but what happens when he surprises the love of his life, Y/N, with an album dedicated to their love?

A/N: It’s still me, still ya girl, with bs no asked for. I’ve been soft af for Bri lately, so this came to mind. I hope you enjoy! Taglists and requests are open! xx

Pairing: Brian May (can be read as Gwilym!Brian) x Reader

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Fluff!! (also allusions to smut)

MASTERLIST (link on main page)

"What's this then, Bri?" Y/N asked as she spied a neatly wrapped present on the kitchen table. She had just gotten up, woken by the smell of breakfast that Brian was going on about making. He didn't respond to her at first, instead handing her a cup of coffee, just as she liked it of course, and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her head. She beamed at him as she eagerly took the cup from him. 

"Good morning love," he said softly and she couldn't help but giggle at her sweet boyfriend. He was always a soft and gentle soul, "go on and open it."

"What's it for?" she eyed him suspiciously before taking a sip and setting down her coffee, "it's not my birthday...please tell me I haven't somehow forgotten our anniversary!"

"It's not for either of those you silly girl," he chucked lightly at worried expression on his face, "just go on and open it."

"Bri-" she didn't get a chance to another word before he kissed her lips to get her to stop talking. After a few moments that she wished could have gone on forever, he pulled away, jerking his head towards the gift.

"Open," he commanded and she finally obliged, taking a seat and pulling the box towards hers. She made slow work of unwrapping it, not wanting to ruin the pretty paper he had selected. Brian felt like he was sweating bullets the whole time, nervous to her reaction at what was inside.

Lifting the lid off the box, she reached inside and her hands made contact with what felt like a leather bound book. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to figure out what it could possibly be. She deftly pulled the book out and quickly realized that it was a photo album. Pulling back the cover, the first pictures her eyes landed on her was off her three years ago backstage after one of Queen's shows. She and Brian had only been dating for a few months at time, but they were already crazy for one another.

"Bri, what is all this?" she asked softly, already feeling herself get emotional. She looked up at the tall lanky man, who had a small smile on his face but he just shook his head.

"Just go on and look through it," he insisted before returning to the kitchen to attend to the food. She watched him before doing what he said and started to flip through the pages.

She had a moment of clarity as she realized every picture was going to be of her or her and Brian. She smiled as the memories of each one came floating back to her, eyes getting misty.

"Brian! What are you doing?!" she giggled at him, half amused and half annoyed at the tall man. He only stuck out his tongue while shaking his head as he snapped a picture of her, "oh no! I look bloody awful and now you'll have that picture forever! I’m all sweaty and dirty!"

"You look lovely," he insisted a wicked grin on his face. They were all milling about backstage after another successful gig, drinks a plenty. Roger was already almost passed out, Deacy was pulling out his best dance moves, and Freddie was entertaining the crowd around him. Y/N had been talking to Brian when he got his brilliant little idea and went and got his camera.

"You're such a liar Bri," she insisted as she smoothed out the fabric of her dress. She walked over to him and quickly kissed his cheek, "but you're alright anyway. Even if you now do have an awful photograph of me. I hope you’ll at least treasure it forever!”

"I love you," he had blurted out suddenly and unintentionally. His face immediately turned a shade of brilliant red while Y/N watched him in stunned silence, the biggest of grins stretching across her face, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Do you mean it, Bri?" she asked, slowly closing the distance between their bodies. He nodded at her shyly in reassurance, feeling more nervous than he ever in his life, "because I love you too. Like a lot. It’s almost ridiculous."

"You do?" he couldn't get another word in because Y/N cut him off, feverishly kissing him, her arms snaking around his neck. It didn’t take long before he wrapped his arms around her and held onto her as tightly as humanly possible. How lucky he had felt that day.

Y/N flipped the page and studied the second photo. It was of her sitting on Brian's lap outdoors on a summer's day in Regent’s Park. The two of them were laughing about something.

"You're such a nerd, Bri," she giggled in his ear as he got an embarrassed look on his face. She noticed his immediate mood change and almost felt a pang of guilt for making him feel bad, "in the best possible ways."

"Oh?" he asked hopefully, looking up at her from under his long lashes. She nodded and touched his cheek gently. He had been telling her about some new research he had been doing it on his own time.

"Oi, love birds keep it family friendly!" Roger jokingly shouted at them as he and John ran around throwing a frisbee back and forth. Freddie shook his head at them as he continued sketching in his notepad.

"Shut up, Taylor! There's no reason to be jealous," she stuck her tongue at him as he repeated the gesture. Brian only laughed at them; sometimes they bickered like two school children, "he's such a dork."

"Typical Rog," Brian agreed quietly as he rested his chin on her shoulder. She sighed in content as she leaned against him, lacing her fingers through his long ones.

"I do mean it, Bri. You're a brilliant man, and an expert scientist," she said as she pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, "one day we'll all he calling you Dr. May."

"That'll never happen," he scoffed lightly at her, "not at this rate with this lot."

"I think you'll end up surprising yourself, love," she said softly as started to stand up. She reached for his hand and got him to follow her, "for someone so brilliant you'd think you'd have more self confidence."

"I do have some," he murmured but she only giggled and kissed him. For all the things he had accomplished and was talented in, he always remained humble and modest.

"I know, Bri," she promised him, "and just remember I'll always be on your side. I love you for all that you have been, all that you are, and all that you will be. And I promise you'll be a legend my dear."

His cheeks turned a bright crimson as they had the tendency to do when he was flustered. He had a big smile on features and could only nod in response.

"Come on, then! Let's show Rog and Deacy how to actually play with a Frisbee," she started running after the drummer and the bassist, Brian's long legs easily catching up with her.

Y/N felt herself choking up as she looked at the next photograph. It was of her, red faced and teary eyed, standing in the airport, eagerly awaiting Brian and the rest of the boy's return from their overseas tour.

"Brian!" she had shouted as she ran over to him and jumped in his arms almost knocking him over. Once he steadied himself, he held her tightly and kissed the top of her. He had missed her like crazy and to finally have her back in his arms felt like heaven, "you're really here!"

"I'm really here," he agreed as he slowly set her down. He studied her for a moment, looking to see if there was any change that had occurred while he had been away. Nothing was really different, but he swore she looked more beautiful than ever, "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Bri. Nothing's the same without you," she said as he took her hand in his and they started to walk away from the crowded terminal, "besides your side of the bed is so cold when you're gone."

"Is that all you love me for?!" he pretended to be hurt as she gently nudged his side.

"Duh," she teased, "you're a warm, tall boy. That's all I need really."

"This what I have to look forward to coming home to?" he was being so dramatic but he knew she loved it.

"Of course not my sweet boy," she said as she swung their entwined hands, "but I do have a surprise for you at home."

"Oh?" he raised his eyebrow suspiciously at her. He had a few things in mind that he could think of that he had been missing out on.

"You're so cheeky!" she said as it was turn for her cheeks to heat up. She had definitely planned that sort of surprise for him, but that wasn't what she was trying to convey to him, "sorry to disappoint you but it's only something edible."

"But you are edible-"

"Brian Harold May!" she almost shouted at him, causing the other boys to look at them with questioning looks. Roger had a smirk written on his face indicating he had a good idea of what was going on, "I take it back, you're not getting anything."

"You're so mean," he pouted at her, giving her his best puppy dog eyes. She stopped walking away for a moment and tried to give him a serious face, but it didn't last long.

Instead she pulled his face towards hers and peppered it with kisses, not caring who was watching them. After a few moments she had to stop herself because she knew if it continued on any further, she couldn't be able to stop her and she's be begging him to take her then and there.

"What was that for then?" Brian smirked at her, and she just shook her head and they continued on like nothing had happened, "you're a little minx, you know that?"

"Yeah, well you've been gone for months and then start teasing me?" she countered, "you haven't touched me for months. I'm going to get impatient soon, so unless you plan on taking me here and now, you control yourself."

"Best get going home as quickly as possible then," he took her hand and led her quickly through the airport, causing her to giggle at him.

"Why are they in such a hurry?" Deacy asked so he watched the two of them. Freddie just laughed but Roger shook his head, bemused.

"They're eager to have a shag obviously," Roger yelled and Deacy's face slowly turned into a look of horror, "at this rate they'll be doing it on the bus home."

"Ohhhhh."

Smiling at memory, she continued on, finding a picture of herself lying in bed, a sleepy smile on her face, hair splayed over the pillow. It was the morning after the first time they had slept together.

"Bri, what do you think you're doing?" she groaned as she stretched out her arms, a yawn escaping her lips, "I swear if you ever show that to anyone else, you won't live long enough to say sorry."

"Don't worry love, that one is just for me," he promised as put his camera away. He crawled back into the bed, kissing her gently as he pulled the covers up. She snuggled up to him, loving the warmth that his body gave off.

“I love you so much,” she said as she rested her head on chest, listening to the beating of his heart. Brian put his arm around and held her close as he mumbled sweet nothings into her ear. She wished they could stay like the forever, but unfortunately, they both had jobs to go.

“I love you too,” he said softly as he closed his eyes again, “can we just bunk off today and stay here?”

“I don’t think either of us are at liberty to do that,” she sighed, as he huffed, “I need to go into the office and I think the boys would kill me if you missed anymore rehearsal. I’m pretty sure you’ve already missed plenty due to me.”

“It’s worth it,” he reassured her, kissing the top of her head. Her eyes crinkled in the corners, just as he had lovingly memorized as she let out a delicate laugh. She leaned up and took a moment to stretch, looking outside the window at the brisk morning. Standing up, she scurried out from under the covers, reaching for the nearest article of clothing to cover herself with from the cold. Brian’s grin stretched across his face as he realized she was wearing his shirt from last night.

Walking over to the mirror, she studied herself for a second, surprised to find love bites all over her neck, “Bri! Look what’ve you done to me!

“What?” he asked innocently, a devilish grin on his face. She turned around and glared at him, her hands on her hips.

“You’ve gone and marked me all up,” she said in an exasperated tone, gesturing wildly to her neck, “I can’t go to work like this and no amount of makeup will cover this lot up!”

“So we can bunk off?” he asked hopefully and she just rolled her eyes, “if nothing else, you can and then come with me and the boys!”

“Was this your grand plan all along?”

“No, but it just happened to work out,” he smirked to himself, proud like a smug child. She wanted to be annoyed with him, but she couldn’t with his face. Instead, she walked over to him and put her arms around him and kissed his cheek, “come with me?”

“Fine, Bri, you win this round,” she obliged him and his face light up with excitement, “I’m going to go shower and change before we leave. I suggest you do the same after last night.”

“Y/N?” he asked as she started to head to the bathroom.

“Hmm?”

“I like the way you look,” he said, almost shy all of a sudden, “in-in my shirt. It looks good on you.”

“It looks even better off,” she winked at him, “want to come to the shower and find out?”

“You’ll be the death of me, love,” he lowly groaned as he quickly padded after her into the bathroom, where they wasted no time in turning on the shower and getting in.

Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot as she flipped the page. The last photo had brought back very vivid memories. Brian had never made it to rehearsal that day – instead they ended up staying in bed all making love to each other.

Looking at the next photo, Y/N found herself looking a picture of her lying on the couch, curled up in a big blanket, looking tired and worn out, clutching a mug of tea. She had been just gotten over being sick. Brian must have took it when she wasn’t paying attention.

“I feel like a potato,” she sighed as she sipped on the hot tea Brian had brought her. She had been sick with the flu for several days and hadn’t been able to do much of anything, but Brian, being the diligent boyfriend that he was, had stayed home with her making sure she had everything she needed. She had insisted he didn’t for fear of getting him sick, but he paid her no mind and doted on her.

“If you’re a potato, you’re the most beautiful potato I’ve ever seen,” he insisted as he sat down and pulled her into his lap, “and the tastiest.”

“Briannnn,” she laughed at him, but it quickly turned into a cough, “ugh. I look awful and I’m just whining about everything. You should go out and enjoy the evening with the boys.”

“You’re as beautiful today as you ever are,” he promised her, and he meant it. She was always beautiful to him, no matter what state she was in, “and a little whining never hurt anyone. I want to stay here with you.”

“But-“

“But nothing,” he stopped her by pressing his finger against her lips, “we’ll stay in, I’ll get us some takeaway, and we can watch a film. Or play some scrabble, I believe we’re about due for a rematch.”

“You’re just salty that I kick your ass every time,” she smirked at him, a gleam in her eyes.

“Am not,” he mock glared at her, “and regardless, we’ll have a good night in, just the two of us. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed, letting go of the mug with one hand and touching his cheek gently. She often wondered how she got so lucky by meeting Brian. Running into him, quite literally, at the university library had been the best day of her life, “I love you, Bri. Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

“Of course love,” he said as he played with a strand of her hair, “you know I’d do anything for you.”

Her heart fluttered at his words; she put her cup down on coffee table, and readjusted herself so she sat facing him still in his lap. He chucked affectionately at her, putting his hands on her hips to help steady her. She studied his face for a few moments, reaching up and running a hand gently along his jaw line, “I don’t think words can adequately describe how much you mean to me. Every day spent with you is the best day of my life. It always gets better, and knowing you’re by my side is...the best.”

“You should be sick more often,” he joked as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, “you’re way sweeter this way.”

“You’re such a jerk,” she glared at him, knowing he was joking, “I take it all back.”

“No, you don’t,” he winked at her before pressing a kiss softly to her lips, “I love you too, pretty girl. I love you to the moon and back. Even the stars have nothing on you. You’re the only one I want to spend the rest of my life. The only one I want to come home to.”

“That’s better,” she sighed contently. She closed her eyes and breathed in his familiar scent - her favorite scent, “now. Get that scrabble board and prepare to have your ass kicked.”

“Oh? Is that so?” he said as he leaned back, “it is on, it is so on!”

Y/N wiped at her eyes with the corner of her sweater as she flipped to the next page. This one was different - it was still empty. Brian interrupted her thoughts as he stepped back into the dining room, setting a plate in front of her. She looked up at him, misty eyed, the biggest of smiles on her face.

“Do you like it?” he asked her, a nervous smile on his gentle face. All she could do was nod as she tried to search for the right words to describe exactly how she was feeling, “I was hoping you would.”

“Bri,” she finally said after a few moments, “this is the most wonderful thing. I love it. I love you.”

“I love you, darling,” he said as he sat down next to her, kissing her cheek gently.

“There’s empty pages, though,” she pointed to the page she had just landed on, “and you’ve never told me what this is for.”

“They’re empty because they’re waiting to be filled. It’s our story, and there’s going to be plenty more to come. I figured we could add more photos in over the years,” he explained, wondering if she would still like it or think it too cheesy.

“I love it,” she said as she grabbed his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss, trying not to cry more, “that’s so thoughtful of you, Bri.”

“I-I...” he grew nervous, as his plan all came into reality. He had planned this for months, waiting for the right moment to give it to her, “I have an idea for the next photo in there.”

“Oh? What would that be?” she asked. He suddenly got up, surprising Y/N, before reaching into his pocket and getting down on one knee. Her eyes widened as she put two and two together.

“I think the next picture should be of us, on our wedding day,” his voice almost cracked because he was so nervous, “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she wasted no time in answering, causing Brian to be the one who was misty eyed. He got back up and put the beautiful ring on her finger, and wrapping her up in his arms. She clung onto him as she cried into his shoulder, words unable to express her happiness.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said kissing the top of head, “I can’t believe I’m going to get to be your husband.”

“Y/N May,” she said quietly, “I think it has quite a nice ring to it. I’m a very lucky woman, Bri. No one could ever ask for a better man.”

He put his hands on either side of her face as he kissed her with meaning; soft and sweet but passionate, just like him. She pulled back from him, quickly running out of the room, but saying nothing, leaving a bewildered and confused Brian.

After a few seconds, she ran back in, clutching her Polaroid camera to her chest. Brian noticed, and a smile played on his features.

“Come here,” she pulled him close and held the camera at arm’s length, making sure both of them would be captured. She surprised by him by sneaking in a kiss to his cheek, just as she snapped the picture, “this one’s going next in the book. The day you asked me to marry you. I think it’s perfect.”

“You’re perfect,” he said as beamed at her, “should we gone on and call the gang then?”

“Not yet,” she said, taking care to set the camera down and tucking the photograph safely away, “they can wait a little bit. You cannot.”

“I can’t wait for what?” he asked as she grabbed his hand, fervently pressing kisses all over him as she pulled him along to their bedroom. He suddenly got what she meant as eagerly followed her. How did I get so lucky?  he wondered to himself as he followed the his bride to be and love of his life.

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[babbushka]

I would love to see V: “Velvet is the best material ever.” with Flip, about a reader who doesn't get dressed up often or something? Idk you have complete creative freedom, I just really like that prompt. Also your writing totally rocks !

Please accept my most humble of apologies for how long this has taken. 

(new prompt submissions are closed for right now! I’ve got quite a few to get through though, so please keep an eye out for those!)

Word count: 1400

Warnings: mild smut but not really this is really tame lol

When you opened the front door after the sounding of the doorbell rang,you hadn’t recognized your husband for a moment. Gone were his worn flannel andcomfy jeans that you had kissed him goodbye in that morning, replaced instead witha very simple yet elegant black suit. He had combed his hair nicely so that thelayers framed his striking face, and he smelled of the cologne you buy him eachyear as a Hanukkah gift.

“Hello handsome.” You grinned, stepping onto the porch andclosing and locking the door behind you.

“Hi ketsl, you look stunning.” Hegreeted you, leaning down to kiss you sweetly.

You wore a black velvet dress,long sleeved to keep your arms warm against the chill of the early Spring evening,but with a completely open back. Flip’s hand hovered just there as the two ofyou walked down the few steps to his truck, where he held the door open for youand helped you in, your shoes looking beautiful but not doing much to helpagainst the last bits of ice leftover from the blizzard last week.

“Are you going to be comfortablefor the two hour drive?” He asked, once he rounded the other side of the truckand climbed in.

“Yes, I’ll be alright. Thank youagain for taking me, I’m so excited!” You beamed up at him.

“Anything for my girl on ouranniversary.” Flip leaned over to kiss you once more, making you blush with affection.

The Central City Opera House wasone of the oldest in the country, and you had never been. You had recently uncoveredsome old records of operas at a secondhand store, and you had been playing themnonstop as background music to help keep you company while Flip was at work,but you found yourself falling in love with the music and even went so far as togo to the library to read translated versions of the words.

Flip had no fucking clue what anyof it was or what it meant, but he knew it made you happy. So, he got dinnerreservations at a nice steakhouse near the theater, and tickets for theupcoming performance of Tosca, whichwas your latest favorite.

The drive up to Central City wasa fun one, filled with excitement and light jokes. Flip told you of his day atwork, and you caught him up on the gossip of the neighborhood. You kept onehand on Flip’s knee the whole drive, and he would snatch it up and press kissesall over it at any red lights making you laugh brightly. Any time it got too close to his crotch he would pinch your thigh, but that just spurred you on.

“You should probably cut back onthe steaks.” You teased him once the two of you were tucked away in acandle-lit booth at the upscale restaurant Flip had gotten reservations for. Hehad ordered filet mignon for the occasion, and you shook your head fondly. Youneeded him healthy, to take care of you, to take care of any children you mighthave.

“You feed me too well, I’m notworried.” Flip rolled his eyes in response. He swore he probably ate morevegetables in the time that you were married than he had his whole life prior.  

“Six years of me feeding you, anddare I say you look better than the day we met.” You agreed with a smile. Hehad always been attractive, but there was something about him now that he wasin his thirties that just drove you wild. You absolutely chalked it up to yourfamous cooking, certainly not genetics or biology or anything like that.  

“I can’t believe you’ve put upwith me for six whole years.” Flip blushed ever so slightly, reaching to takeyour hand across the table. “Boy am I one lucky son-of-a-bitch.”

“Don’t talk about Esther that way.”You grinned, squeezing his hand playfully. “Come sit over here, I’m lonely.”

“We’re going to sit next to eachother for three hours, and then another two hours home.” Flip chuckled, gettingup anyway and cozying up to your side on the booth. He knew it wouldn’t havebeen proper to drape an arm around your shoulder – this was a two Michelin starafter all – so he settled for lacing the fingers of his right hand with that ofyour left.

“I don’t care.” You beamed,pleased to be next to your best friend.

“Sometimes I wish I could marryyou all over again ketsl.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and then releasedyour hand so that the two of you could eat – couldn’t have that filet gettingcold.

“I wouldn’t say no to a secondhoneymoon.” You teased, and Flip found himself thinking how he could get awaywith taking you on a long vacation, he wanted to give you everything he could.

He felt that way too when he hadbooked the opera tickets, but when it came time to actually sit through the thing,he realized he really didn’t like opera at all. The stage and the building werenice, but he had no idea what the people were saying, and the booklet didn’thelp when he got lost.  

“What’s happening now?” Hewhispered into your ear for the fifth time.

You were enraptured, practicallychewing your lip from the tension of it all. Yes you had listened to the songsat home a dozen times, but it was so much different seeing it live!

“Spolleta, just told Scarpia thatAngelotti killed himself. Scarpia declared that Mario must be executed toounless Tosca gives in to his advances. If she does, Scarpia will stage a mockexecution.” You whispered back, much to the annoyance of the people next toyou, but you paid them no mind. You were having an amazing time with yourhusband.

“That’s very dramatic.” Flipremarked, scanning the pages of the booklet to try and catch up to where theyactually were in the plot – he had been a good five pages off, no wondernothing made sense.

“That’s opera.” You winked,snuggling up against him in the dim light of the theater.

He watched you the whole time, sneakingglances and holding your hand. Every now and again you would catch him looking,and you would smile, try your best not to laugh and really piss off the people next to you. 

Eventually, the giggling won,particularly when your stomach had rumbled a bit during a quiet moment, you hadto cover your mouth to not get completely kicked out. Flip thought that was worthevery minute of confusion, seeing you enjoy yourself.

“I was thinking…” You said oncethe opera was long done and the two of you were back at home. “I’d like us totry and start a family.”

You had spoken about it before,late night conversations about kids and the future, many times. You were bothon the same page; wanting to wait until the timing was right, wanting to makesure you both were mentally and financially prepared to care for a child, butyou felt that the time was right. Something in your mind just seemed to click.

“Are you sure?” Flip asked, freezinghalfway through shrugging off his suit jacket that he looked devilishlyhandsome in.

“More than sure, it was all I couldthink about all evening.” You blushed.

He rushed to your side, handswinding around the back of your dress, feeling up the soft fabric.

“Velvet is the best material ever,” Flip murmured, his lips against yourneck, “But I need to get you naked, now.”He pulled down the zipper that held your dress on, and tugged your arms free ofthe sleeves, letting the fabric drop to the floor.

It was almost funny how quickly Flip’sbrain short-circuited, when your completely naked body was revealed to him. Youhad forgone undergarments, planning that the evening would take this sort ofturn.

“God you’re such a slut, I loveyou.” Flip groaned, pressing his face right in between your breasts and suckingat the skin just at your sternum.

“Happy anniversary honey.” Youlaughed, squealing as he slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoesand carried you up the stairs two at a time.

A happy anniversary indeed.

Tagging some pals! :) As always, if you’d like to be added or taken off the list please just shoot me a message!  @fullofbees @spinebarrel @oh-adam @dreamboatdriver @bad–bad–man @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @aweirdlookingtree@rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape @arwarz @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes

[ginsburgberry]

idle worship | anderbroberry

WHO: Rachel Berry, Blaine Anderson ( @lyricalbowties​ ) & Cooper Anderson

WHAT: A dinner, which is neither tense nor uncomfortable!

WHERE: The bougiest restaurant in town.

WHEN: Saturday, November 16th, dinnertime.

WARNINGS: None except Cooper being very, very Cooper.

This was it. Blaine had been dreading this day since his brother had first told him he’d be coming into town. There were a lot of reasons that Blaine didn’t want Rachel and Cooper to meet, and they were just because Blaine’s relationship with Rachel was a total lie..least on his end of it all. No, Blaine didn’t want any of his friends to meet a single member of his family, least wise Cooper. He’d like to say that Cooper was well meaning but that would be a lie. Blaine couldn’t recall a time that Cooper had done anything other than something that benefited him.

Blaine had done his best to apologize for Cooper in advance to Rachel as he picked her up and they drove to the restaurant. It was some pretentious french place, the nicest place in town. Of course Cooper would choose this place to show off in. There was no way that Blaine or, he assumed, Rachel would be able to eat her on a usual night out so he was praying that Cooper at least kept good on his promise to buy them dinner. Blaine felt his stomach do a flip as they drove up and allowed the valet to take the car. This wasn’t the first time Blaine had been in an incredibly fancy restaurant like this. Back home this was the type of place they would go to celebrate some kind of accomplishment of Coopers. Blaine wished he was old enough to order wine or some kind of alcohol.

“I’m going to apologize again.” Blaine said as he held his arm out for Rachel, approaching the doors. Cooper would be on the other side of them, sitting and waiting. “Anderson?” He asked the matradee as they walked in. A young man came up and took two menus and gestured for them to follow. “My brother can be a bit much. Please don’t pay him any mind. He can be a bit...delusional too. Oh god, there he is.” Cooper looked up from his phone, naturally he was on his phone. He beamed at the two of them as they reached the table. Cooper stood to greet them, pullingBlaine into a very one side hug.

“Squirt!”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” Blaine hissed under his breath.

“I’m glad you could make it. And oh,” Cooper’s attention moved to Rachel. “This lovely angel must be Rachel Berry.” He flashed Rachel a smile and took her hand gently and placed a kiss on the back of it and winked.

“Christ..” Blaine murmured with a roll of his eyes.

“How on Earth did my brother score such a beauty like yourself?”

-

Rachel had dolled herself up; she'd used the new makeup she got, she was wearing her cutest dress and had her hair all done up, but none of that helped the anxiety she could feel radiating off of Blaine every time he apologized.

Rachel had never had dinner at someplace that had a valet; she took a moment to watch the car be driven off, then looked back at Blaine. "It's really fine, Blaine," Rachel repeated, "and it's just one evening. I promise we'll survive."

Rachel gave the maître d' a shy smile as they were led to--

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

Rachel tried to make her brain work but she just couldn't because Cooper Anderson was kissing her hand.

"He...he..."

Cooper Anderson. Cooper Anderson. Her boyfriend's brother was Cooper Anderson.

Someone cleared their throat and Rachel blinked, the heat rushing to her face. "He was my friend, first," Rachel said, looking back to Blaine with a dumb, mega-watt smile, "and things just...progressed, naturally, from there. We...harmonize, and not just musically," Rachel finished, gently extricating herself from Cooper to catch Blaine's hand instead as they sat down together.

"So, I..." Rachel had so many questions and there were too many to pick, and she couldn't believe she was talking to Cooper Anderson. "I've read your book so many times," Rachel settled on, turning sparkly eyes back onto Cooper. "Is the story I read about you and your costar true?"

- Blaine should have known that Rachel was a fan. He didn’t. But he felt as though he should have known. It was, after all, the type of luck Blaine ran with. His eyes grew wide as he watched Rachel stammer and grin so wide that he was sure it would fly right off her face. This was Blaine’s nightmare. The only thing that could make it worse was if he was naked right now. Blaine sighed and didn’t even flinch when Rachel took his hand. Sure. Why not? He sat there, his hand loose in Rachel’s and he was sure she wasn’t likely to notice. At least not with Cooper Anderson sitting across from her.

Cooper stood a little straighter, shoulders rolled back when he clearly realized that Rachel was a fan even without a word being said. He was used to those looks of adoration, Blaine had to assume. Cooper looked from Rachel back to Blaine.

“Yup. We were duet partners at the start of the semester.” He replied quietly.

Cooper eyed him a moment and then looked back to Rachel with a wide smile. “Wow. That’s beautiful.Do you uh, do mind if I pitch that to the writers? ‘We harmonize, and not just musically.’ Poetry.”

Blaine drew in a breath and held it trying to calm himself down and reminding himself he was in public. They were all in public.

Cooper’s eyes lit up further at the mention of his stupid book. Blaine clenched his jaw and stared at the menu he opened, not actually reading the words on the page. Cooper then gave a, fake, bashful hand wave. “Stop! You have? You know, I could sign it for you sometime. It’s always great to meet a fan. I actually gave Blaine a signed copy after it was released. He loved it.” Blaine shot Cooper a look. And knowing that he couldn’t deny it without looking like an ungrateful jerk Blaine was forced to smile and return to staring at the menu. Was it time for the check yet?

Cooper sat back in his chair, one arm draped over the back. “Do you think I would put something in my book that wasn’t true?”

Blaine bit down on his lip. He needed to get the conversation off Cooper.  “So water sounds good. I think I’ll get that to drink. What about you Rach? What are you thinking? Does any of this food look good to you?” He said trying to avoid eye contact with his brother.

- Rachel nodded along, soaking up everything he said - her heart gave an incredible stutter when Cooper said that he wanted to pitch it to the writers. The writers of his show that he starred in because he was a star in a soap opera. And Rachel was just about to dive right in to that, to see if she could wheedle her name and 'guest star' into the same sentence, or at least her name and 'studio visit'.

She was about to launch into that, though, when Blaine spoke, jogging her out of her fannish haze. "Water sounds fine," Rachel said, giving Blaine a little smile as she squeezed his hand. "And...well, I haven't..." Rachel looked down at the menu and studied it for a few moments, though she didn't actually absorb anything on it, because Cooper Anderson. "Do you think they have anything vegan on the menu?"

- Blaine instinctively returned the squeeze when Rachel squeezed his hand first. He needed that little bit of reassurance. They hadn’t even ordered their drinks or food yet and Blaine was itching to go. He tapped his thumb on the menu trying his best to focus on it this time around. He had half a mind to get the most expensive thing on the menu in an attempt to spite Cooper.

“I don’t know.” Blaine replied, his brow furrowing. “We could ask the waiter. A lot of this looks like meat though.”

Cooper sipped the wine he must have ordered before the two of them arrived. “Might I make a suggestion, Miss Berry? The canard a l’orange. I haven’t had it here before, so I can’t speak for how they cook it but it’s one of my favorites.”

Blaine looked up at his brother and deadpanned. “That’s duck, Coop. Rachel is vegan. She doesn’t eat meat or anything from an animal, actually.”

“Oh. Right.” Cooper said.

“Look, they have something here with butternut squash raviolis, sauteed spinach...crimini mushrooms, and truffle beurre blanc. If I only knew what half of that meant.” He looked over and smirked at Rachel. “Maybe it would be best to ask the waiter.”

Cooper sipped his wine gesturing for the waiter to come over. “Mm, I’m sure I could get the chef here to whip up something for you, if they don’t have anything you can have.”

Blaine had to keep reminding himself that they were in public and he couldn’t...or he shouldn’t make a scene. “You don’t even know the chef. How do you know he even knows who you are, Coop?”

And with that question Cooper arched a brow at Blaine, “Please, baby bro.” He scoffed softly as if it was an incredibly stupid and not at all reasonable question to ask. Cooper’s gaze flickered to Rachel and he winked again at her.  “What do you want Miss Berry?”

- About a million answers to that particular question popped into her head, and she felt the blush heat her cheeks as she tried to find one answer that wouldn't embarrass herself or upset Blaine.

"The ravioli sounds delicious, or..." Rachel cast her eyes down to the menu, if only to stop staring at Cooper, because it was making her eyes water, because he was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen in real life. (Or on TV, because he was a soap opera star.)

"Oh," Rachel said, managing to refocus, "they have a vegetarian menu...and some options have vegan substitutes." She looked up with a bright smile and set her menu down, having made her decision.

She wanted to ask a gazillion questions about Cooper, his show, his book, everything, but she was keenly aware of Blaine's hand in hers under the table.

"You should have come earlier," Rachel said, "because Blaine's performance for his class' showcase a couple of weeks ago was incredible. He got a standing ovation."

- Blaine kept hoping that time would go by faster so he could leave this nightmare of a dinner. Yes, sure, Rachel was having a good time and a part of Blaine was happy that she was happy. However, couldn’t she be happy because of something other than his brother? Blaine glanced up from his menu to look at Cooper who was still functioning at a 110% percent, flashing smiles, winking. Trying overly hard to be some kind of celebrity, or what he thought a celebrity did.

Blaine rolled his eyes. Cooper could give Narcissis a run for his own reflection. He cleared his throat. “So, I think I’m going to get this...duck thing..geez does everything on here have duck in it? There are other animals.” He mumbled. His head snapped up when Rachel mentioned the showcase. He looked to his brother and Blaine couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw his brother’s smile waver for a moment.

“I had someone record it.” Cooper replied reaching for his wine glass again. “He was great, wasn’t he?”

Blaine’s brow furrowed a moment as his brother gave him what sounded like a genuine compliment. He had told Blaine that he was proud of him soon after the showcase, but the fact that he gave a compliment with a third party present meant even more. He smiled at Cooper and then looked to Rachel with the same grin. “Takes after me.” Cooper added setting his wine glass back down.

“Why do you always do that?” Blaine asked  trying to keep his tone even.

“Do what?” Cooper asked innocently. “Compliment you?”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed and before he could say anything else, the waiter appeared to take their orders. Cooper ordered his meal with a thick French accent and handed the menu back to the waiter. ‘Takes after me.’ Blaine mocked inside his head. Cooper always felt the need to show off in front of other people and his way of showing off was making Blaine look inferior in some way or other.

“Now, Rachel” Cooper continued once the waiter left the table. “I know you must have a million and a half questions for me about this one over here.” He chuckled and pointed at Blaine. “Think of this as your own personal Q and A.”

“Could we not?” Blaine interrupted. “We’re kind of at dinner.”

“Come on Squirt, this is Miss Berry’s opportunity to get to know me and our family better. You know, before we throw her to mom and dad.”

- Rachel glanced between Blaine and Cooper - she'd never heard Blaine use that tone of voice before, and she'd never seen Blaine behave like that.

She hadn't meant to cause further strife.

"I do have questions," Rachel admitted slowly, glancing from Cooper back to Blaine, "and I'd love to hear stories about Blaine growing up, but..." Rachel hesitated, momentarily silenced by the arrival of their food.

Rachel wasn't always the most self aware person, she knew, but even the most selfish of people would be able to read Blaine's body language, which clearly said 'please, no, anything but that'.

"But why don't we save that for dessert," Rachel said, already mentally kicking herself for not taking the absolutely golden opportunity to learn everything she could from an acting trailblazer like Cooper Anderson, but Blaind was distressed, and she didn't want him to be distressed, leastwise because of her.

She took a few bites of her food, which was in fact cooked perfectly and tasted delicous, then spoke again. "Why don't you tell me what it's like to be on TV? How did you even manage to land the part?" Rachel did an excellent job, she thought, of being engaged and fascinated (because, okay, it was engaging and fascinating) but she didn't release Blaine's hand - in fact she kept a firm hold of it, squeezing his hand reassuringly any time she asked Cooper a follow up question about himself. She tried to include Blaine where she could, questions that applied to both of them, but Rachel knew when someone was hogging a spotlight, if only because she did it so often herself. At least this way Cooper wasn't dredging up anything about Blaine that he wouldn't want her to know yet, or embarrassing him too terribly.

By the time dinner was over - and more selfies were taken - Rachel had nearly run out of questions (but not really, come on, it was Cooper Anderson) to ask. She'd enjoyed herself, awkwardness aside, and by the time they were standing outside, both of Rachel's arms wrapped around one of Blaine's, she was more than satisfied, and she knew Kurt would die over everything she'd learned... but if she were being honest, she was a little ready to go back home with Blaine and settle in, unwind, and remind Blaine that he was the only man she was interested in.

...Or at least the only Anderson.

- Blaine was doing his absolute best not to go off on Cooper there in the restaurant. He didn’t want to make a scene in front of Rachel...or the dozens of strangers surrounding them. Cooper just always had a way of being extra and knowing that he was being extra and proceeding to top himself. Blaine wished he could say this was just Cooper putting on an act to try and impress Rachel, but he was pretty much like this all the time. Maybe a little less but he always had a way of making Blaine feel inferior.

He had been so pleased when his brother complimented him, again, on his performance and then let down when he followed it up with some grade A narcissism. Blaine did his best not to make eye contact with Rachel, embarrassed and not of Cooper but of himself. He shuddered to think what would happen when the entire Anderclan came together to meet Rachel. Not that Blaine planned on being with Rachel much longer. He flinched at the thought. It was so harsh and cruel but it was the truth. He knew he needed to break up with Rachel and as he sat there holding his fork and rubbing his thumb up across the metal in though, he wondered if it would have been better to break it off before he introduced her to a member of his family.

Blaine did a double take, unsure at first if he heard Rachel correctly.

“What?” He asked with a bit of panic in his voice. Blaine did a double take, unsure at first if he heard Rachel correctly. He had  explicitly told Cooper to not bring up any childhood stories and naturally Rachel was requesting some. This was a waking nightmare. Cooper thanked the waiter in French as the food was set at their table. He cleaned off his fork with the cloth napkin and smirked at Rachel.

“Stories about Squirt growing up?” He asked, interest peaked. “I have tons of them.” He gaze met with Blaine for a moment. “But..you’re right we’ll save them for dessert. It will give me time ot think of the best one to tell. Once I get started it is hard to stop.”

Blaine angrily stabbed at the food on his plate. Rachel had a good grip on his hand and while he wanted to pull away, he didn’t because it was still oddly comforting and grounding. He stayed quiet for the remainder of dinner, seeing as how Rachel was more curious about Cooper than anything else. Maybe if Blaine stayed quiet, they would forget about them and no embarrassing childhood stories need to be told.

“Those are some really great questions.” Cooper replied. “All of which can also be found in my book. But, I’ll engage. To be quite frank, it’s fantastic!” He laughed a little popped a bite of food into his mouth. “Then again, fame itself is quite fantastic. It’s all about my fans, you know? I want to make sure that they’re happy. Because if they’re happy, then I’m happy.” What was he even saying? Blaine glared at Cooper a moment, pushing the food around on his plate. How were people so charmed by all of this?

Cooper continued to answer each question Rachel threw at him clearly loving that the conversation was on himself and his accomplishments. Every now and then, Cooper would look to Blaine and make an attempt to bring him into the conversation but Blaine wasn’t biting. In that situation, Cooper shrugged, made a small joke, and proceeded into another story. By the time dessert came around, Blaine decided to pass. He had barely touched his food and had lost his appetite much earlier in their conversations.

“Alright, you wanted a Blaine story so I’ll give you one.”

“Coop...” Blaine quiet begged.

Cooper regarded him momentarily. “Not to worry baby bro, this one isn’t bad. When we were growing up, our parents had to hide the paper bowls we had because Blaine here would get into them and wear them on his head and say they were top hats.” He chuckled.

Blaine’s face was a deep shade of red and his grip on Rachel’s hand got tighter.

“That’s not it though.” Cooper took a moment to finish the last bit of his wine. “He would insist on singing and dancing with them, right? And he’d take our dad’s umbrella and the only song he ever wanted to do was Singin’ in the Rain. He’s always been a performer.” He said with a shrug. “And I’m sure he always will be. That’s why I wasn’t surprised by his standing ovation showcase. Impressed. But not surprised.” Blaine stared at Cooper for a long moment after he finished telling the story. Was Cooper giving him another compliment or some form of validation? He waited for Cooper to bring it back around to himself but he never did. Cooper paid for their dinner and that was it,the evening was over and it left Blaine confused about his brother. Most of that in there was the Cooper he knew, but Blaine wasn’t lying if he said his older brother did not pay him compliments often, or ever.

Cooper took Rachel’s hand again and kissed it in farewell. “Until Thanksgiving.” He winked. “It was a pleasure meeting you Miss. Berry. My brother doesn’t deserve you.” He joked and gave a wink.

Blaine shot Cooper a look at that comment but said nothing. He felt sick to his stomach remembering that he and Rachel were going to talk the following week to discuss their relationship, and Blaine knew he was going to finally end it with her. The anxiety was settling in but he had to do it. It was all incredibly unfair to Rachel, who was so sweet. He smiled at rachel as she looped her arm with his.

Even though Blaine didn’t think of Rachel in that way, he was still happy to call her one of his best friends. He wasn’t sure what he would do without her. Which was going to make this impending break up all the more painful. For both parties.

[aalissy]

Dreaming in Black and White

Hello and welcome to the first chapter of my first fic! It’s a Miraculous Soulmate AU and should feature all four corners of the love square! I hope you enjoy :)

AO3

Marinette’s eyes blinked open to the cold, black, and dull world around her. Her eyes quickly scanned around the entirety of her room, as they did every morning, hoping to catch a flicker of color but was never able to. Sighing to herself, she casually stretched before allowing a smile to break free across her face and hopped out of bed. She had realized long ago that the only way for her to see color would be to ask out her soulmate.

Shy as she was, she could still barely speak a word to her long-time crush, Adrien. Because of this, it may be a little while longer before she could see the world the way her parents could. Blowing a kiss to the nearest Adrien poster hung atop her wall, she plopped down at her desk and pulled her dark hair into two neat pigtails. Once finished with that, she logged onto her computer and began playing her favorite game, Ultimate Mecha Strike III.

“Marinette, you’re going to be late you know,” a tinkling voice called from behind her.

“AAAH, Tikki you scared me!” she screamed at the floating bug, falling from her chair and losing all of her latest progress in the game. Pouting at the screen for a moment, her head snapped quickly back to the kwami who had darted her way over to her bedroom nightstand.

She giggled embarrassedly before pointing at the alarm clock, “Marinette, look at the time.”

Her brows furrowed as she stared at the glowing white light before she finally realized what Tikki meant, “Oh my gosh, you’re so right,” she screamed before dashing off and shoving her schoolwork into her backpack. Racing down the stairs, she shouted her goodbyes at her parents who merely chuckled and shook their heads in disbelief at her. Plunging her feet into her shoes placed casually at the entrance hall, she raced down the stairs and out the door.

Rushing through the streets of Paris, she ducked and weaved against the onslaught of gray people coming towards her. As she neared the school, and the crowds began to thin, Tikki’s head popped up out of her light gray purse, “Maybe next time instead of kissing Adrien’s picture, you’ll actually pay attention to the clock,” she giggled.

“Shh, Tikki,” she glared at the bug, “and I wasn’t kissing Adrien’s picture,” Marinette blushed.

“I know... I know. You playing video games all morning is you practicing your hand-eye coordination for when you’re Ladybug.”

“That’s right,” Marinette said proudly, puffing out her chest.

“Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound sometimes?” Tikki laughed, wiping glistening tears from her eyes.

Pursing her lips at the kwami, she grumbled at her, “If you’ll quit laughing at me we’re almost at school and I don’t want anyone to see you.”

Sticking her tongue out at Marinette, she dived back into the purse, “Love you Marinette,” she called from the recesses of the small bag.

“Love you too, Tikki,” she whispered back, before bursting through the doors and onto school grounds.  Just as the bell rang, she managed to stumble straight into class.

“Thank you for joining us, Marinette. If you’ll have a seat now I can begin class,” Miss Bustier nodded at her usual space next to Alya. Blushing and muttering an apology, she quickly sat down next to Alya and opened up her backpack to take out her assignments.

“Your shoes are different colors, you know,” her best friend whispered to her, with a smirk on her face.

Squinting her eyes down at the shoes that were currently underneath her desk, she could faintly make out that they were, in fact, two slightly different shades of gray. Blinking her eyes up at Alya, she frowned at the girl in confusion, “How did you...” Alya continued to merely smirk at her before Marinette’s eyes widened comically, “No way!” she whisper-shouted towards her.

“Something you’d like to share with the class Marinette?” Miss Bustier declared, tapping her foot impatiently at the flustered girl.

“No Mademoiselle,” she blushed. Turning to Alya, whose shoulders were shaking in silent laughter, she stuck out her tongue at her. As she began to take notes from the lecture, she kept sneaking glances at Alya who was pretending to ignore her. Finally, once she was certain that Miss Bustier had forgotten about her slip-up she pestered her best friend again, “Did Nino finally ask you out?” Marinette whispered over to her. Alya merely shook her head, causing Marinette to frown in confusion, “Then who...”

“I asked him,” Alya proudly smirked at her.

Marinette could barely conceal her squeal of excitement, “Of course you did! You’re amazing!”

Alya beamed at her best friend, “Which reminds me girl, you really need to gain up the courage and finally ask Adrien out!”

Gnawing on her lip nervously, she snuck a peek at the beautiful boy in front of her. She sighed dreamily at the idea of discovering the beauty of colors with Adrien. Turning back to her best friend, she shook her head with a light flush filling her cheeks, “I can barely even speak sentences around him,” she giggled embarrassedly, “But what about you? What do colors even look like?” she questioned eagerly.

Alya sighed disappointedly at her, before pursing her lips, “Well I don’t really know the names of everything yet... but your hair seems, I don’t know, almost cool and refreshing? It’s hard to describe...”

Marinette blinked her eyes in wonder, “Wow, that sounds amazing,” she murmured delightedly. Though the majority of emotions stirring in Marinette’s chest were happy ones, she couldn’t fight off the slight feeling of envy that Alya had already found her soulmate, “I hope you know that I’m now gonna ask you what color everything is,” she giggled happily.

Alya merely rolled her eyes teasingly, “God girl, you’re gonna be a real pest about this aren’t you?”

Marinette merely giggled again, knowing that Alya was all too willing to describe every color she could see.

Suddenly, they were dragged out of their wonderful world of whispers about colors and Alya’s descriptions of them, when Miss Bustier cleared her throat at them pointedly, “Alya, Marinette, if you’d kindly begin paying attention to class so that you’re prepared for your assignments.”

Both girls flushed, before murmuring their apologies and turned back to their notes, in which they hadn’t written anything since the beginning of class.

Not even a few minutes later, a slip of paper was slid across the other side of the desk to her, and Marinette snuck a mischievous glance at Alya before opening the page.

I wonder what color Ladybug’s suit is?

Marinette glanced at her friend before nodding her head furiously. She had also always been curious as to what she looked like as Ladybug. Sneaking a peek at the teacher she quickly wrote Alya back.

I also always wondered what Chat Noir’s eyes look like. You absolutely have to tell me!

Alya laughed silently at her note, causing Marinette to frown slightly. Why was Alya laughing at her note, she casually wondered to herself.

Why? Have you got a crush on Paris’ mysterious superhero?

Marinette flushed deeply before scrunching her nose up in distaste and sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

Of course not! You know I only have eyes for one man and it’s certainly not that pesky Tomcat!

She rolled her eyes, before pointedly staring at the boy in front of them.

Wow, girl, so defensive when I was only teasing... you sure nothing’s going on with you and Chat Noir?

Marinette merely shook her head at her friend, chuckling slightly at the idea of being with her goofy, flirtatious partner.

Positive. Now seriously we need to actually start paying attention before we completely lose track of what we’re doing.

Alya’s arms crossed in annoyance before she finally nodded her head in agreement, thanks to Marinette’s fiery glare.

Fine. Want to come to the movies with Nino and I after school though? We’re trying to get Adrien to come with.

Marinette’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw the note, again staring at the boy in front of her, before nodding her head eagerly.

I’ll have to ask my parents but I’m sure they’ll say yes!

Though Marinette attempted to pay attention to the rest of the lecture, her mind was filled with daydreams of going to the movies with Adrien. Maybe he would offer to share a popcorn with her, and their hands would accidentally touch, reaching for the same piece at the same time, she giggled to herself silently. Then, maybe afterwards she would be able to muster up the courage to ask him out. If Alya could do it, why couldn’t she? Her eyes were unintentionally drawn to the boy in front of her, as she nibbled on her lip nervously.

Staring for a few more minutes, she was jarred from her daydream as the bell rang. Jumping out of her seat in shock, she fell almost directly on her face. From the purse that remained safely hooked to her side, she could hear a small, tinkling laugh. Glaring at the purse, she wished Tikki could witness the look of anger on her face right now.

“Need some help?” a voice called in front of her.

Her head practically shot up at the sound of the boy in front of her, “A-Adrien!” she glanced at the hand held out to her before blushing and quickly rising up to her feet, “T-That’s ok. I do can it myself.”

Adrien’s curious smile turned into a slight chuckle, as she mentally slapped her forehead for stumbling on her words once again.

“So, um, are you going to see the movie with Alya, Nino, and I tonight?” she glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, anxiously tapping her two index fingers together.

Adrien seemed surprised for a moment before rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t know. I have to ask my dad still, but if he’s alright with it, I’ll definitely be there.”

Marinette chuckled nervously, “Well I hope you can make it,” sneaking a quick peek at Alya over Adrien’s shoulder, who was giving her a thumbs-up, she let out a relieved breath, “Well, it looks like Alya’s calling me. Bye Adrien!” rushing over to Alya, she grabbed her arm and practically yanked her out of the classroom.

As she rushed out of the classroom, clutching onto her best friend’s arm she barely heard Adrien’s goodbye. As soon as they both made it outside, Alya burst into peals of laughter.

“How long were you listening to us?” she groaned out loud.

“Since the very beginning of ‘I do can it myself,’” Alya grasped onto her sides, unable to control her roaring laughter.

Feeling her face heat up, Marinette muttered a quiet, “At least I managed to talk to him this time.”

Wiping tears from her eyes, Alya continued giggling, “That is true. You guys managed to hold a conversation for at least a minute.”

Marinette groaned again, “It’s not my fault I can barely force out a sentence when I look into his stupid, beautiful, model face.”

The giggles from Alya seemed to have subsided finally, and Marinette noticed her friend turned to look at her, “Listen Marinette, I’m sur-” Not used to her friend stopping in the middle of a sentence she blinked over at her with a slight frown on her face. Alya was staring at her face with a look that seemed almost like fascination.

“W-What?” she stuttered out confusedly.

“Your face is a different color than it usually is.”

Covering the sides of her face with her hands, Marinette nibbled on her lip nervously, “What does that mean? Is that a bad thing?”

Alya’s brow furrowed in a look of confusion that mirrored Marinette’s own, “I don’t know.”

Marinette shook her head in an attempt to shake off her nervousness, “Well, I’ll ask my mom once I get back home, hopefully, it’s nothing serious.”

Surely it can’t be anything too serious otherwise I’d feel sick or something, right? She thought to herself before bringing the subject back to Adrien, “I was wondering... do you think I should ask Adrien out after the movie?”

Alya’s face lit up before she beamed at her, “I think that’s an amazing idea Marinette! You go and get that Agreste boy!” she paused before frowning slightly, “Hopefully his dad lets him come though...”

“Yeah, I guess I’m just being optimistic,” she smiled shyly.

“Ooh girl, I know you’re absolutely gonna knock him dead!”

“Alya, hush!” she giggled playfully, gently bumping her shoulder against her best friend’s, as they continued their walk to her house.

[thank-you-for-the-vampire-money]

I HAVE ISSUES (Part 7)

Series summary: Lance has always been an asshole.  Womanizer, alcoholic, narcisitic, you name it, that’s Lance.  But the question is… why?

A/N: PLOT IS PICKING UP... sorta. and YES!  MORE THAN 800 WORDS!

Lance x plussize!reader

Word count: 1520

Summary: Lance is definitely improving with the added help of Dinah- now he had something important to ask you.

Warnings: dealing with feelings, vulnerability, fatphobic language, mild violence, insecurity

Part 6

(GIF not mine)

The room was eerily quiet as Dinah scribbled notes in her pink, holographic notebook.  It was so quiet, Lance cringed at the sound of his clothes shifting against each other as he hugged his knees to his chest.

Lance had been seeing Dinah consistently every week for about a month and a half, and he had gotten very comfortable with her; (Y/N) was right, she really did help him.  He was noticing fewer temper tantrums, he felt less depressed, he was being a bit more social instead of isolating himself, he felt a lot better.

“So why don’t you think she’ll accept your offer?” Dinah asked, looking up at him with a smile to comfort him.

Lance took a second to answer.  “Well… because I’ve been an asshole to her for years,” he sighed, resting his chin on his knees, “I’ve been so rotten to her- why would she want to go out with me?”

“You have been nicer to her recently, correct?” she hummed, .

“I suppose,” he mumbled in reply.

“And you said last week that you apologized to her, is that right?” she continued.

“I did… she accepted it…” he hummed, “but what if she was just saying that to be nice?!”

Dinah sighed, looking him in the eye.  “From the way you talk about (Y/N) I don’t think she’d fake forgiveness,” she explained softly, “and you can’t know for sure unless you ask her- I say it’s worth a try,”.

He sighed heavily, his stomach already twisting from nervousness.  “I guess you’re right…” he nodded, taking a deep breath, “I’ll give it a try, I’ll ask her,”.

“Good!  I’m glad you’re taking that risk,” she smiled, very proud of him.  He was so closed off, she was happy he was opening himself up a bit.  “And remember, even if she says no, that doesn’t mean you’re any less valuable, nor does it mean you aren’t making progress,” she reminded him.

You looked up from her book and smiled as she saw Lance waving goodbye to Dinah.  “How was it?  Do you feel better?” you asked, getting the car keys out of your bag.  He had such a stressful week and he was really on edge, so this session was really needed.

“I feel good,” he nodded quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets.  He didn’t want to talk… not yet anyway.

You smiled kindly as Lance watched you vacuum the living room.  Lance had been sitting on the couch awfully quiet for the past few hours- he wasn’t normally like this.

“Are you okay, coach?” You asked, turning off the dirt devil for a minute so you could hear him.

He nodded unceremoniously.

“You don’t seem okay…” You hummed, sitting on the couch next to him, “you’re too quiet to be ‘okay’.  What’s wrong?”

He took a deep breath, trying gather up whatever courage he had- which wasn’t much.  “I just… I wanna ask you something…” he mumbled.

“Anything,” you smiled sweetly, trying to subtly show that he was safe telling you.

“I Uhm… would you… Do ya… wanna Uhm… wanna go out sometime?” He asked shyly, “I can… want to take you out to… to dinner…”.  He held his breath, waiting for your answer.

Your expression softened.  Then became hesitant as your brows furrowed.  Would it be wise to go out with your boss?  Well… maybe… why not?  “Sure,” you grinned

“Wait what?” Lance gaped.  She actually said YES!  He was so excited!  “Yes?  Yes!  Thank you!” He squealed, “how about Friday night?”

“Sounds good to me,” she grinned, loving to see him smile so wide.

You were changing in the girl’s locker room at the gym, since Lance wanted to go out right after work.  You’ve never seen him this excited for something since… ever.  He had even done his own laundry for once, wanting his suit to be perfect.  With all his preparations, you were a bit afraid you were underdressed.  Was a pink dress too baby-ish?  Maybe you should have worn flats…

You walked out of the locker room, still fluffing your hair to adjust it properly- this one stupid lock just wouldn’t lie flat!  Setting your black flats on the floor to slip them on, you could hear Lance’s jaw drop to the floor.

“Stunning…” he beamed, looking at your figure up and down, “I never thought pink could look so good,”.

You chuckled shyly, your face blushing.  “That’s very sweet of you,” you rasp, your voice suddenly gone.

“A-are you ready to go?” he asked, shaking his head to break the spell you had cast on him, “the reservations are in thirty minutes,”.

The dance hall was huge!  Well, huge to you, someone who only attends noodle cafes and coffee shops across from Target.  There were so many nicely dressed ladies there, it made you feel a bit uncomfortable.  Thank God for the open bar.

Lance held you on his arm proudly as you both were lead by the waitress to your private booth close to the DJ.  Could you consider someone who only played jazz and swing a DJ?  WHat else would you call them?  Are there different name for- STOP!  You had to calm your mind down before you exhausted yourself.

“Get whatever you’d like,” Lance grinned, handing you a menu, “I recommend their lamb,”.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and skipping to the salad menu.

Lance gave you a look of both concern and playful judgement.  “I know what you’re doing- don’t,” he said, turning the page over to their signature dishes page as well as a wine menu.

After a ordering and getting your food, you felt a lot more comfortable around each other, talking freely and laughing loudly.  “Wanna dance before dessert?” Lance asked, gesturing to the dance floor as the Charleston started.

Your lips parted in an eager grin, nodded your head in agreement.  You took his hand and leaped onto the dancefloor with him, already moving your feet and hips.

Lance was a surprisingly clumsy dancer.  For someone who spent their entire childhood working on form and grace on a blue mat, eating, breathing, and sleeping gymnastics, his footwork was quite off.  It was fucking adorable.  Who knew you’d be the dancer out of the two of you?

Another thing, was that Lance never let go of you, he was always touching you.  He was either holding your hand, or your waist, guiding your hips or your shoulders.  He wasn’t handsy, he never pushed boundaries.  But… it was almost… affectionate.

“Phew- I need a drink,” he huffed, guiding you to a chair on the open bar.  “I’ll get us a couple sangrias, okay?” he grinned, squeezing your hand before going up the bartender.

“How much?” a strange man said to Lance, causing him to turn around from where he was waiting by the counter.

“Excuse me?” Lance hummed.  He had never seen this dude before.  HIghschool maybe?  Nah, he was much older than Lance.  This guy was at least forty-five.

“How much are you getting?” he asked, his botoxed-eye-candy mistress hanging off his arm like a cat on a leash.

“For… what?” he inquired, craning his neck.

“C’mon, there is no way a hot shot like you would get with a fat broad,” he gestured to you, sitting at the end of the bar, “how much did your friends offer to dare you to take her out?  Fifty?  Hundred bucks?”

Lance cringed at him.  Disgusting.  “I’m not getting paid… my friends don’t talk to me..” he hummed, still processing what he just said, “she’s my date!  And for your information, douchbag, she’s a nice lady!”.

“Take it from me, boy, you could do better,” he hummed, nodding in a condescending manner, “you could get a model if you wanted,”.

Without thinking about Lance actions, he punched the man straight in the nose, anger bubbling up inside of his chest.  “Don’t fucking call her that you overgrown dildo!” Lance shouted, throwing money at the bartender for everything, and storming up to you to leave.

“What’s going on?  What happened?” you gasped, shocked at Lance’s seemingly sudden burst of anger.

“It doesn’t matter- let’s get out of here,”

Lance draped a blanket over your shoulders as you ate your cheetoes.  “I’m sorry for what that dude said…” he sighed, bandaging his knuckles as he sat beside you, “I think you’re a beautiful lady,”.

You smiled shyly at him.  “Thank you for defending me- though I wish you had dealt with it in a better way,” you sighed, cupping his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking…” he muttered, playing with the strings of his hoodie, “at least I’ll have a lot to talk about next time I see Dinah,”.

You chuckled.  Even when you were upset with him (mildly), he was adorable.  “You’re a mess, Lance Tucker…” you sighed, “what am I going to do with you?”.

“I wouldn’t mind a kiss…” he said nonchalantly, pursing his lips.

You playfully rolled your eyes, kissing kiss cheek softly.

He blushed hard, showing off his perfect smile.  “Does this mean there will be a second date?”.

TAGLIST:

@buckyshattergirl @joannie95 @forever1313 @marie-is-in-the-dark @lookwhatyoumademequeue @nerdy-bookworm-1998

[likethetailofacomet]

Happier Times

Author’s note: I simply cannot stop thinking about Bastien, so enjoy this little companion chapter to Learning to Love Again. It’s also sort of a sneak peek at what’s coming in the follow up series to this train wreck, should I ever actually get us out of the mess I put us in. Anywho, just Bas reminiscing on his youth, inspired by @zaffrenotes OTP requests for : favorite non-sexual activity, who says “I love you” first, what do their family or friends think of the relationship, and what do they do when they are apart from one another. Thanks for being so interested in Bastien and Belle!! 

Pairings: Bastien x Annabelle, Jackson x Bianca, Drake x Claire 

tunes: D’Arline by The Civil Wars

i could get over you but please don’t ask me to just so you know you’ll always be the one

Settling into the driver's seat of the thickly armored car carrying Prince Liam and King Constantine, Bastien felt a slight wave of relief fall off of his shoulders as they pulled away from Applewood Manor. He found himself struggling these last few days, with focusing enough of his mind on his true duty of guarding the King and Liam, as his thoughts kept wandering to Drake and Claire. It was so important to him that Drake found happiness, and even more so that he'd be given a chance to keep it. He longed for happier times for the two of them- simpler times, where they could just be themselves, just Drake and Claire, no threats, no danger, no urgency. He longed for Drake to have what he almost had with Annabelle, what he'd wanted with her, what he'd planned with her, and to think of him being so close to that; to think of him and Claire finding one another and then being torn apart by their circumstances picked at his heart. There were old cracks that he'd tried to patch up, tried to cement over and seal; but thinking of Drake and Claire meeting the same fate that he and Annabelle had was like taking a jackhammer to those cracks and seams, and he found his mind wandering over the course of the drive back to the palace, to happier times with her...

Bastien had been afforded a rare week off as a reward for how his keen eye had caught something in the crowd at the Royal Regatta the previous weekend. His sharp attention to detail as he and Jackson did one last scan of the crowd before clearing the area as safe for the Royal Family, had likely saved the lives of the King and Queen and the two young princes; they'd apprehended three men in the crowd with weapons, Jackson sustaining a black eye from the scuffle, Bastien faring a bit worse with a broken shoulder. He'd be in a sling for weeks, but there were still things that could be done in the King's Guard- information to collect, press releases to go over- ways that he could be useful even without the use of both arms. Jackson admired his dedication, but insisted that he take a week, at least, to heal and spend time with Annabelle.

“That girl is special, Bas,” Jackson had said once after dinner at the Walker house. Bastien had brought Annabelle to meet his mentor and his family, Bianca, Drake and Savannah, now five and three, after about four months together. He was starting to feel strange about the fact that the two most important people in his life hadn't met yet. Jackson had been happy to hear that his young protege might be ready to settle down with someone, that he might be ready to start building what he and Bianca had built. Upon meeting Annabelle, it was clear that Jackson instantly liked her when she greeted him with a confident but casual handshake and warm eye contact. Bianca insisted that she sit next to her at dinner so that they could chat, and drew easy, comfortable laughter from the young woman with stories of the two men at the table. Savannah stood behind Annabelle's chair, mesmerized by her intricate braid, unable to stop herself from reaching out and touching it, leaving Annabelle promising to braid Savannah's hair, when it was long enough. The little girl absolutely beamed, running back to her mother babbling about wanting long princess hair so she could have long beautiful braids; even Drake, the sour little apple that he was at times, had a smile for Annabelle. She was Walker approved and Bastien felt an excited flutter throughout his body as he took in the sight of her fitting so seamlessly into the important parts of his life.

It was after that dinner, while he was driving her home, that he pulled off to the side of the road and turned to face her, heart hammering at the way the moonlight made her light blue eyes sparkle as they widened in surprise. “What are you doing, Bas?” she asked, her mulberry lips drawing into a quizzical , slightly open mouthed smile.

Bastien swallowed his nerves and reached across the console to grasp the back of her neck, pulling her quickly in for a kiss. The moment his lips found hers he felt even more strongly about what he was about to say. Her tongue slipped between his lips and his slid past hers, mingling together like magic. He breathlessly broke the kiss and she whimpered. “Bas?” her voice cracked with the unexpected way he'd stolen her breath.

“Annabelle,” he let his right hand slip to the side of her face, cupping her cheek. “I love you. I had to tell you. Right now. Because I know, right now.” He sucked in a little gulp of air and held it, waiting for her response. She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his wrist and leaned into his touch, bringing her other hand up to straighten a piece of hair near his forehead, her fingers brushing his skin setting little fires there.

“You do?” she asked, hope, joy and excitement swirling in her tone.

“I do.” He nodded, his steady eyes on hers.

She drew him in for another kiss, this one slow and lingering, burning like embers instead of an inferno, feeling like forever instead of for right now. “I love you, too, Bastien,” she whispered, their mouths still pressed together. “I love you.” He kissed her back, stoking the embers slowly, keeping the connection until they'd traded the air in their lungs and were growing dizzy for a lack of oxygen. It was break apart or drown in one another, and while Bastien thought that would be a good way to go, he'd just started his path towards forever with her, and he wasn't eager to die so quickly. They basked in the way love felt and the way it changed how their names sounded coming from one another's lips for a  while before he pulled back onto the road and drove her the rest of the way home, steeling glances at her, at the way the starlight made her porcelain skin glow, at the way her chest rose and fell with a large contented sigh, at the woman he loved, on the first night that he told her so.

On the few occasions that the two of them had time together in the daylight hours, they would often take walks out into the countryside, bringing a blanket to sprawl out on when they'd come to some quiet meadow or the seclusion of a willow tree's curtain of green. Annabelle would bring her sketchbook and lay on her stomach, her red curls tumbling past her shoulders, her left eye scrunched up just so at the corners in concentration, as she focused on a flower or a bird, a tree, a boulder...or sometimes the strong jawline and silver eyes of the man beside her...while she masterfully captured her subjects, somehow giving them more life on the page than they had in the physical world. Bastien loved nothing more than watching her work, watching the way her fingers slowly became covered in charcoal as she made wide arks and  short, quick marks on the paper, using her pinky to blur and soften for shadowing. She'd inevitably touch her face, leaving a dark smudge somewhere on her forehead or cheek- usually due to her swiping a stray tendril of hair from her eyes. He'd watch her, watch how the sunlight turned her hair copper, how her toes would curl in the cool grass, how she'd hum to herself absently as she sketched. He'd watch and wait until she was done, then he'd pull her to him, his lips brushing to hers as he'd wipe the charcoal away with his thumb before leaving light kisses across her face, his stubble tickling her cheeks and stirring bubbly laughter from deep in her soul.

This was the first time he'd had so much time off consecutively, and as much as he wished he could still be on the job, still learning as much as he could, he respected Jackson's insistence that he take time off. He couldn't deny that he was looking forward to so much time with Annabelle, either. He'd been away for three weeks while the Royal Family traveled abroad to Italy and France on diplomatic visits before returning to Cordonia just in time for the Regatta. He didn't like being apart from her, but he knew she hated it even more, and with good reason. He knew how she worried when he was away, how she feared he'd be injured or worse...and she'd not be near by to come to his side...He knew she spent many nights sleepless; in her bed alone in her apartment at the beginning of their relationship, or now, in their bed alone in their tiny house, but always alone. Always lying there staring at the clock, waiting for a phone call that might put her heart at ease long enough to get some sleep. He knew she'd stay up long into the night, sketching and painting and trying to keep her mind from coming up with reasons that he hadn't called yet. He knew she'd jump as soon as the phone would ring- knew because of the immediacy in her voice as she answered. His heart would ache a bit at the sadness in her tone even as they discussed happy topics, knowing that no matter what, she'd worry until he came home. He knew she thought of her brother- about how he went to work one day, with his badge and his gun, and he'd not come home, and he wished there was some way to change that for her, but he knew there wasn't. He knew they'd been lucky that he'd not been injured sooner, but when she found out that he broke his shoulder in a fight with three armed would be assassins, she shook and cried and felt her fear wash over her in waves at the thought of how close he came to being in so much more danger, how close he came to so much more harm. She needed this week as much as he did, more, even, and he knew that Jackson probably knew that from experience. They spent each day that week in a different spot, Annabelle sketching and Bastien waiting to wipe the charcoal from her nose or cheek or above her brow. On Thursday of that week, they'd gotten caught in the rain. She shrieked and gathered up her sketchbook, shoving it under her shirt to keep it dry as he covered her under his good arm, laughing and feeling the raindrops wash away some of the stress that had grown since his injury. They turned to one another and kissed slowly in the warm, late spring rain, faces wet and breaths hitching with laughter and desire. Take a week, Jackson had said, you'll feel better if you do. He'd been right again.

He hoped that soon Drake and Claire would get much more than a week like he and Belle had gotten.  

Before he knew it they were pulling into the long drive leading to the Palace garages, and Bastien neatly tucked his memories away, filing them in the back of his mind. He'd need to be sharp as he was scheduled to meet with the security teams that had swept the palace, Beaumont Estate and Drake's cabin, and Annabelle had no place in that meeting. Even now, even so many years later, she was still such a weakness to him. The love she'd planted in his heart was still there, still flowering and growing despite her absence, it's thorns pricking him from time to time. She'd always be there, there had never been another and there never would be. He sighed as he straightened his tie and buttoned his jacket, all business, as he escorted Liam and Constantine to their personal quarters and strode to the meeting room to wait for Micah and the rest of the team. If he couldn’t have his own happiness, protecting the happiness of those he cared about was the next best thing. 

you always said you want me to be happy but happiness was having you here with me you’ll always be the one that’s standing in my way and that’s okay...

tagging: @ooo-barff-ooo @zaffrenotes @sleepwalkingelite @endlessly-searching-for-you @mind-reader1 @agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis @drakewalkerrosenberg @nekkidmolerat @indiacater @gardeningourmet @jovialyouthmusic @akrenich @notoriouscs @endlesstaylormckenzie @the-whiskeywife @roonarific @brightpinkpeppercorn @cordoniantrash

[cwartsyswritingblog]

Cute. (A Hazbin Hotel Fanfic with Alastor and Baxter, again)

Alastor peeked around the door to Baxter’s room. He didn’t have a key. He didn’t need one and he didn’t need Baxter’s permission to enter. He knew he was more than welcome here.

To his delight, his lover was in. He was sitting with his feet up on his sofa reading a book. Alastor immediately sat beside him. His arms wrapping around Baxter’s waist. His head resting on his shoulder.

Baxter didn’t look his way but Alastor did see him smile. He reached straight for the sweet spot behind Alastor’s ear that made him melt when touched and gave it a good scratch. Alastor instantly settled and curled up on Baxter’s lap with a huge smile on his face. 

That went on for a while. Baxter, still reading, kept the book upright and occasionally turned the pages with one hand and kept scratching Alastor’s ear with the other. The receiver of said head scratch in total bliss. At least he was, until he started to feel something that utterly confused him. 

Alastor was dissatisfied with something. But with what? He was struggling to find an answer. It definitely wasn’t the head scratch, Baxter could keep that up all day. Certainly, the affection he was receiving was most satisfactory. But what wasn’t? Could it be how little they had spoken? It occurred to him that he and Baxter hadn’t spoken a single word to each other the whole time Alastor had been here. He looked at Baxter. His eyes were still on the book. Observant of only the words on the page. He hadn’t even looked at him in the whole time he had been here. Not once. 

Now Alastor knew what was dissatisfying. It wasn’t like Baxter was ignoring him, far from it, but Alastor just wanted him to look at him. He wanted him to put the book down and look at him. Talk to him. Engage with him in a nice conversation. He wanted his attention and sought about how he was going to get it. 

Getting Baxter’s attention was easy as pie. A simple kiss on the cheek would have done. But while Alastor planned on leaving lots of kisses on Baxter’s cheeks, he knew he could be more creative than that. Just then he noticed the light hanging above his head. The light belonged to Baxter and it was a part of his illicium. But it was much more fun to call that his little fishing rod. After looking it up, he discovered the light was called an esca. A pretty name for a pretty light. He focused on it until it blurred spreading a golden glow across his vision. So pretty. 

It gave him an idea. 

He rolled over onto his back and very gently tapped the light so that it swung slowly back and forth. He felt Baxter pause for a moment. Alastor looked up at him in anticipation but then Baxter just went back to reading. 

Disappointed but not deterred, he kept at it. 

Tap tap tap, it took a few good tries before he succeeded. 

Baxter set his book aside and finally looked at him, smiling. 

“What are you doing?” He asked playfully. 

Alastor put on his best charming smile and just as playfully continued to paw at Baxter’s delightful esca. 

Baxter chuckled. “Come here, Cheshire Kitten.” he laughed, tugging him upwards. 

Eager to comply, Alastor sat upright and scooted back onto Baxter’s lap. If this cat thing was making Baxter laugh and smile then he’d play it up for all it was worth. He bumped his head lightly against Baxter’s chin the way he had seen Mimzy’s cats do when they showed affection which made Baxter laugh even more. 

He cupped Alastor’s face in his hands and asked in a playful tone of sarcasm, “Is it just me? Or are you after my attention?”

Alastor nodded. Making a point to put the book out of Baxter’s reach before draping his arms around him. 

“Honestly. I’ve never had a partner demand so much.” Baxter tutted. But it was obvious from the way he looked at Alastor, the way he said it and the way he was caressing his cheeks with both hands that he didn’t mind at all. 

“You’re exes didn’t know what they were missing.” Alastor purred, lavishing the affection. 

“If you say so,” Baxter said, “That might be why they are my exes and you are very, very, very unlikely to end up joining them.”

Alastor pouted. “Very, very, very unlikely? Not impossible?”

“Well, you might get fed up with me.” Baxter sweetly bantered back. 

“That is never going to happen.” Alastor said so seriously that it made Baxter giggle like he was flattered.

“As if I’d be foolish enough to give up all this.” Alastor said placing his hands on him. Baxter huffed. Maybe he thought he was going to trace his hands over his body. But he kept them on his face.

At that, Baxter smiled warmer than Alastor had seen him smile all day and Alastor caressed his cheeks, stroked the precious little fins on his face and ran his fingers through his hair. 

The feel of it instantly told him that Baxter had not used any gel or hair mousse today. Hooray for that. Alastor hated the stuff. They completely masked the lovely smell and feel of Baxter’s natural hair. It really was a crime to let Baxter use either of them. 

Wait a minute. If Baxter wasn’t using gel or mousse, that could only mean one thing. 

“Alastor. Don’t.” Baxter said firmly. He knew his partner all to well. He knew exactly what his partner was thinking before he even reached for his hair tie.

It was no use, Alastor couldn’t resist. He would never be able to resist. 

“Alastor.” Baxter warned. 

Yoink! Poof!

Strands of hair went flying in every direction from Baxter’s head in an explosion of such force it made Baxter’s hat fall off. It bounced off the arm of the sofa before falling to the floor. Neither Alastor or Baxter noticed it. Instead, they looked at each other. Baxter had this ridiculously cute expression that was somewhere between a pout and a glare. Then he closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and visually decided he was above this petty nonsense. He gave Alastor a disinterested but very unamused look. Alastor couldn’t hide that he was pleased with what he had done. He sat back and admired the sight he tragically didn’t often get to see. This insanely voluminous, unruly, imperfect and therefore in every way perfect, flyaway mess was Baxter’s natural hair. 

“Why must you do this?” Baxter deadpanned. 

“Because it’s adorable.” Alastor chuckled while gently pulling a strand down flat and taking joy in letting it go and watching it spring back into place. 

He’d never forget the first time he saw Baxter’s true hair. It was sometime after they had stopped merely interacting with each other when necessary, or when Alastor felt like picking on Baxter, or when Baxter felt like getting revenge against Alastor for being such a nuisance, and gave each other a chance. Alastor was in Baxter’s room, not quite so welcome at this time, pestering Baxter for entertainment as usual. Just as he was considering listening to Baxter’s fifth or sixth demand for him to get out, it occurred to him that he had never seen Baxter with his hair down. Baxter’s defensive grab for his hair tie and desperate attempts to evade him only made Alastor determined to see it, And when he wrestled the hair tie out of Baxter’s grip and hair and saw it, he couldn’t help but laugh. That was when he discovered Baxter’s cheeks glowed, literally glowed, when he blushed. He was yelling at Alastor when his cheeks shone the same lovely colour as his cute freckles, maybe just a shade darker. It instantly became Alastor’s new favourite colour. He was too shy and afraid to tell Baxter at the time, but his blushing face was the most adorable thing Alastor had ever seen. Instead, he just assured Baxter that he liked the way his hair looked and insisted he shouldn’t be embarrassed by it. And no, he wasn’t just saying that to humour him. He really meant it.

Of course, he was being honest back then but only partially. A lot of things had changed since then. For one they were together now. And now that they were together, it was only right that Baxter knew the whole truth. He told Baxter what he had really thought that night.

"I know that.” Baxter said smiling, “You told me during our first week as a couple. You’ve told me this quite a few times actually.” 

He turned his face away from Alastor as he said this. Averting eye contact but still smiling. Then Alastor saw it. The faint glimmer of blue across Baxter’s cheeks.

Alastor let out an ecstatic gasp when he saw it. He could see Baxter blush every day for the rest of eternity and it would never be any less wonderful than seeing it for the first time.

“What?” Baxter asked, somehow still surprised at this point.

“I think you know what.” Alastor beamed before going in for a kiss attack. 

“What are you doing?” Baxter laughed trying to dodge Alastor’s lips, “Stop it. You’re making me blush.”

“That’s the idea.” Alastor hummed, kissing Baxter on every part of his face he could reach until Baxter was truly glowing. His cheeks shone like jewels. Beautiful. 

“I have to capture this.” Alastor announced spontaneously pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of Baxter and his glowing cheeks. 

Baxter quickly tried to cover his face with his hands. Too late.

“Don’t post it online.” Baxter squeaked, blushing even more at the very thought of anyone else seeing him like this.

“I won’t.” Alastor assured. Lies. The first chance he got, this was going straight on his Instagram page. Which was really just a virtual shrine to his beloved little fishy. He couldn’t wait to caption it. 

His photographic masterpiece taken, Alastor turned his attention back to where it should be. On Baxter. He caressed Baxter’s cheek, smoothing his thumb over the glow, and spoke his mind the moment it had the thought he never hesitated to share.

“You are so beautiful.” He told his beloved, looking him straight in the eye. The way he always made sure to do when he made him a promise. “You really are." 

Baxter leaned as closely into Alastor’s touch as he could.

"I know you think so.” he said positively. Or at least, tried to say it positively. But it sounded false and he didn’t look Alastor in the eye. 

“I know so.” Alastor insisted.

Baxter didn’t respond and Alastor couldn’t help but sigh at that. Sadly, Baxter didn’t know he was beautiful. He didn’t even think it. Alastor knew that Baxter didn’t really like the way he looked at all. There were many parts of the body he was in that he straight up hated. Saying they looked absolutely stupid. He said that it was no wonder no one took him seriously because he looked so ridiculous.

Well, Alastor was having none of that. He told Baxter every day what he thought of all these features he was so insecure about. Determined to make him feel better about them. Maybe one day, Baxter would even like them as much as Alastor did.

“Darl, you know I love the way you look.” He persisted putting his arms around his lover, “I don’t care what you say, you do not look ridiculous. Ridiculously cute, yes. But not ridiculous.”

Baxter let out a small chuckle before he embraced Alastor as well.

“I love everything about you.” Alastor whispered to the person he loved more than anything in existence like it was a secret. Now that was ridiculous because he would shout it to the world.

“No, you don’t!” Baxter giggled, “You don’t love how cranky, closed off and secretive I can be.”

“Alright smartass, you’ve pointed out you have flaws like every other human being. Well done.” Alastor joked back before getting serious,“But all the good things about you outweigh the bad things by a ton.”

“Well, my love. You will be pleased to know that I can say the exact same thing about you.” Baxter said, tightening his embrace and planting several sweet lingering kisses on Alastor’s cheek. “I love you so.”

“I love you too.” Alastor said right back, returning Baxter’s soft squeeze, “And you really are ridiculously cute.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Baxter said in a positive tone that sounded genuine this time. Alastor was sure he was smiling.

“You’d better.” He grinned before he resumed the kiss attack he’d launched earlier.

He had better believe he was cute because Baxter was cute. His eyes were cute. His smile was cute. His freckles were cute. His hair was cute. His little built-in fishing rod was cute and good god, his blush was cute. Everything about him was cute and much more. He was charming, he was attractive, he was handsome and indeed he was beautiful. And Alastor didn’t care what he had done to end up here, Baxter was beautiful on the inside too.

[fangirlfiles1]

Rest For A Helper

Summary: College! AU. Patton is a helper, and he loves it. Sometimes, however, it all gets to be too much. He goes to Logan for help, and gets a little more than he was expecting.

Pairing: Logicality

Word count: 1679

Warnings: I don’t think there are any. A little bit of emotional distress at first, but not much. Let me know if there’s anything that needs to be tagged.

--

Patton is a helper. He has always known this. It’s something that he’s incredibly proud of, something that he wouldn’t trade for anything. It makes him feel important and special, like he’s contributing something of value to the world. He lives for the change in mood that he senses in people when he manages to find the right thing to say. He loves the moment when he can see a small flicker of self confidence spark to life inside of people. He loves people so much that he often feels his heart swelling with pride anytime he sees them succeed. These are the reasons that he is studying psychology, and why he runs an advice blog online.

He loves being a helper, most of the time.

Sometimes, however, it all gets to be too much. Sometimes he feels completely drained. The messages in his inbox cry out to him, little red notification bubbles catching his attention any time he goes online. He feels like he’s letting people down if he doesn’t respond to every single message. There’s no way that one person can help all of these people. How could he even think that he could?

As he stares at his overflowing inbox, he feels the bad thoughts creeping in, the same ones that his online following often tell him about. It’s tempting to just crawl into bed and let those demons torment him, to feel the suffering in the name of empathy, so that he can say that he understands how they feel. He is so tempted to let them bite at him, grab his ankles and pull him down into the depths of emotions that he knows are dangerous. But he is only tempted.

Sometimes he does give in, but today is not one of those days. Today he refuses to be a hypocrite. The truth is, he has been scaring himself recently. He has been angry, and he hasn’t been taking very good care of himself. It isn’t like him at all. “If you’re feeling low, sometimes you need to reach out to people who can help. That’s perfectly okay and healthy.” He has said that so many times before to other people, and it’s time for him to follow his own advice.

He closes his laptop and stands up quickly, before he can change his mind. He tucks his phone into his back pocket and leaves his dorm room, locking the door behind him. Nerves bubble up in his stomach, little voices whisper that other people have their own problems, they’re probably overwhelmed too. They tell him that he’s just going to add to their stress too. How dare he relieve his own troubles by putting them onto other people? He, of all people, should know better.

He shakes his head roughly, shooing away the thoughts, and his hair falls over his eyes. He stops in front of his friend’s door, takes a deep breath and knocks. There is some shuffling inside before the door opens.

Logan leans against the door frame, “Patton? You look disheveled. Are you alright?”

Patton brushes his hair out of his face and forces a tight smile, “Hey, Teach. I’m okay, just kind of wanted some company. Are you busy?”

“I was typing up my notes, but I could certainly use a break. Come in.” He leaves the door open and returns to his desk. Patton slowly walks inside and closes the door behind him.

He’s been in Logan’s room many times, but he still finds the interior interesting. Unlike most people, he keeps all of his past textbooks instead of selling them back to the school and they fill an entire bookshelf above his bed. Patton skims over the titles, a few of them the same textbooks that Patton himself has had, but Logan is a year ahead of him in classes. General Psychology, Abnormal Psychology, Neuroscience, and more. He turns and carefully sits down on the edge of the perfectly made bed, not wanting to wrinkle the black comforter.

Logan quickly finishes typing a sentence and saves the document before pushing down his laptop screen and rotating in his chair to face Patton. “You can tell me what’s wrong, if you’d like. You’re not your usual, upbeat self. But if you don’t want to talk about it that is, of course, fine too.”

One corner of Patton’s mouth tilts upward in a genuine smile. This is exactly why he knew he could come to Logan. He is always observant and kind. This is also part of why Patton’s heart races whenever he’s around his friend. Patton reaches over and grabs the small galaxy print pillow that he had bought for Logan a while ago to bring some color into the room. He hugs it tightly to his chest for some comfort. “I just… I feel like a bad person.”

Logan lifts an eyebrow in confusion. “Why do you feel like a bad person?”

“Because I’m ignoring people that need help.” Patton runs his fingers along the seam of the pillow and absentmindedly plays connect the dots with stars.

“Is this about the advice blog that you run?”

Patton nods.

“Patton, you help a lot of people. No single person can help that many people on their own.”

“That’s not the whole problem. I’m... I’m mad at them.” He looks up quickly, scrambling to explain himself, “I know that’s horrible. They need help and I should be able to help them. But they just keep coming back! And there just keeps getting to be more and more of them, and some of them don’t actually follow my advice and sometimes they don’t even say thank you!” He bows his head in shame, hiding behind the hair that falls over his glasses. “See? I’m a bad person.”

Logan sighs and stands, moving to sit down next to Patton. Their knees brush as Logan twists on the bed to face him. Patton braces himself for him to agree. “Have you heard of compassion fatigue?”

Patton looks up, surprised. “No. What’s that?”

“It happens a lot to therapists, doctors, and emergency first responders.” He says as he reaches over his head to grab one of the textbooks. He flips through the pages until he finds what he was looking for. He points out the phrase in bold print, and reads the definition aloud. “‘Compassion fatigue: indifference to charitable appeals on behalf of those who are suffering, experienced as a result of the frequency or number of such appeals.’ In other words, it is where people who help other people do it so often and to such an intense degree that they can’t keep it up anymore, and they become angry and bitter toward the people that they’re helping.”

Patton frowns. “That… doesn’t sound good.”

“No, it’s not.” Logan continues, “Symptoms include isolation, addiction, poor self-care, depression, and more.”

“How do you make it go away?” Patton asks, watching intently as Logan skims over the page to ensure his information is correct.

“Self-care, mostly. Taking breaks, getting enough sleep, and having hobbies that can change your mindset are all important.” Logan gently places a hand on Patton’s shoulder, “So is ensuring that you have a good support system. Have you ever talked to anyone else about this?”

“No, not really. I want to be the one that helps people, I don’t like to get in the way of people helping themselves unless it’s really bad.” Patton chews on the inside of his cheek, mulling over what Logan has said. “Maybe that isn’t the best idea.”

Logan’s face softens in a way that Patton rarely sees, and he feels his cheeks warm. “I know you want to save everyone, and that is truly admirable. But Patton, you can’t do it all on your own. Sometimes you’re not going to be able to carry it all yourself.”

“I know that, really. I just… I don’t like it! I want people to be safe and happy and okay.” Patton squishes the pillow tighter against his chest.

“Come here.” Logan wraps his arms around Patton’s shoulders and pulls him in close. Patton’s face is hot now with a blush that wraps around to the back of his neck. They have been friends for just over a year now, but Logan had never been a very physical person. This feeling is new, scary, and exciting. Patton’s breathing quickens as he circles his arms around Logan’s waist, feeling the muscles of his back through the soft fabric of his shirt. He’s warm and his breathing is incredibly calming. He feels the rumble of Logan’s voice in his chest as he speaks again, “If anyone can save the world, it’s you. You take care of everyone.” He pauses for a moment. “I would be honored if you let me take care of you.”

Patton pulls away, surprised. He stares into Logan’s eyes, seeing a hint of nervousness behind the stiff, professional expression that he puts on. Patton’s content smile grows into a beaming grin and he nods. “I would like that.”

Logan’s face softens again and he lets out a breath.

Patton reaches up and places both hands on Logan’s cheeks. “You’re so good to me, Lo.”

“I try,” he replies, blinking. His brown eyes stare into Patton’s with a warm intensity. “You deserve it.”

Patton can’t take it anymore. He pulls Logan in and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes and hoping that he will close the distance. Their glasses bump together as the other’s lips meet his.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and Patton’s hands move to lace his fingers together around the back of Logan’s neck, his thumbs rubbing gently below his ears. They break apart and lay back on the bed, his head resting on Logan’s chest. They lay there in comfortable silence for a little while before Patton speaks up again. “I think I’m going to post on my blog that I need to take a break.”

Logan hums. “That would be a good idea.”

“Thanks, Logan,” Patton whispers, nuzzling closer. “For everything.”

--

A/N: This is dedicated to @randomslasher. You are a helper, and I know that the fandom appreciates it greatly. Please don’t forget to take time to yourself whenever you need it! You do so much for everyone. We love you! 

And to any other helpers out there, compassion fatigue is a very real thing. Remember the cliche saying, if the plane is going down, you have to put your mask on before helping others. It is so, so important to put yourself first with these things. You can’t truly help others when you’re struggling with compassion fatigue or other issues yourself. The best way to help others is to lead by example, and help when you are in a good mental place to do so! And if you don’t have a good support system, I am also a helper and you can message me if you need someone to listen. Love you guys!!!