#the photo of me with her has such horrific lighting my blush makes me look CLOWNISH white people when there r street lamps

[kevlarheart]

saw laura jane grace live and got to meet her after the show and it truly was such a blast being right up front where she could hear me and my best friend gossiping with the people who invited us up to barricade cause she asked the group of us about it afterwards LMFAO

[newsatsix1986]

The prop department behind this show are incredible.

Not only did they truly make the magazine which Helen and Dale were doing the photo shoot for - the Australian Woman’s Day, they properly wrote an article to go along with the photos.

It took a lot of very close deciphering, but I was able to write down as much of it as I could. I hope it makes sense to you all. It’s adorable and romantic - discussing the first kiss, their Russell Street worries, Helen and Val becoming close that day, and how they knew that they found the other person quite attractive.

Happy reading, friends xoxo

Page One:

Title: Glamour, News and Romance - The Golden Couple of News.

There’s romance in the News At Six newsroom, and everyone is watching.

They are the celebrity couple that has set Melbourne ablaze.

From their luminous first kiss that eclipsed a comet, to chasing the Chamberlains in steamy Darwin, to their love galvanising in the wake of the Russell Street Bombing - Dale Jennings and Helen Norville’s romance has blossomed before our eyes.

We sat down with the golden couple of news to get an exclusive sneak peek into the lovers’ lives.

Every day as Melburnians wake, Dale is already in the newsroom; focused, primed, combing through the latest stories.

As a part of the hard-working News At Six team, he never quite knows what his day will look like, where he might be sent at the drop of the hat.

The one constant of his working life? When Helen Norville strides into his office, his heart skips a beat.

“It’s always an event when she arrives,” Dale tells me, laughing. “Heads turn, every time.”

We’re sitting on spacious lounges on the hot new cafe in Fitzroy, Arrondissement X. Sitting beside him is Helen, carelessly gorgeous in a mauve and teal blouse with puffed sleeves and a pleated grey skirt. She slaps Dale’s arm, bashful, then nuzzles closer to him.

“It’s true!” Dale continues. “There’s a magnetism about her. An energy. She just lights up the room.”

But for Helen, it’s Dale who has that certain je ne sais quoi. And whatever it is, it’s ruined her for other men.

Dale’s unlike any other guy I know,” she says. “He’s warm and kind, but also driven and strong. And he’s a great listener. When you’re talking to him, you feel like you’re the only person in the world.”

The story is legendary now. Dale was Helen’s surprise date for Geoff Walters’ 60th birthday party the night Halley’s Comet passed overhead.

We were denied a good look at the comet, but partygoers received an even more spectacular view.

It was on that balmy February night; rubbing shoulders with Melbourne’s elite amidst a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event, that Dale kissed Helen for the very first time.

“It was a surprise, to be honest,” Helen professes. “I’d invited Dale as a dear colleague, but when he kissed me something just clicked. It felt totally right.”

And despite how picture perfect the moment was - with half of Melbourne’s press just a few faces away - Dale insists it was completely unplanned.

“It was just a spur of the moment thing,” he tells me. “I mean, I didn’t think Helen would go for a guy like me, but she looked so stunning. I thought, “Come on mate, what are you waiting for?”

So began the romance that has captured the hearts of viewers across the nation.

But what events led to that magical moment? To date, Dale and Helen have been cagey about the origins of their romance...until now.

“It really started when Dale was assigned to produce me.” Helen explains. “It’s no secret that I’ve gone through a few producers in my time, blokes who didn’t take me seriously as a journalist. I knew right away that Dale was different. He wanted to work with me, not over me.”

“Helen had really bold ideas for special reports,” Dale adds. “I was drawn to her passion like a moth to a very glamorous flame.”

Page Two

These reports have now become a Monday evening staple - and one of the biggest ratings draw for News At Six.

It’s clear Melbourne can’t get enough of the romantically-entangled reporting duo - a dynamic that crystallised when Dale reporter live from a scorched Russell Street on 27th March.

Viewers the state over shared with Helen’s fear for Dale’s life, and her relief she felt when she saw he’d made it out unscathed.

“It was one of the most stressful days of my life.” Helen says, clutching Dale’s hand in hers. “Not only did we experience an awful attack on our city, there were hours where I didn’t know if Dale was safe. My feelings for him crystallised in that moment. I knew I loved him. Deeply.”

“Absolutely. Same for me,” Dale echoes. He grows solemn and his eyes glaze over - clearly reliving the horrific events of that day. In a strange way, it was the perfect moment for them to say “I love you.” It was the first time Helen met Dale’s mother! “We’d arranged a dinner for that night!” Helen says. “Of course, that got put aside. But she and I grew close that day.”

So how is our newly-minted media royality adjusting to life in the spotlight?

“It’s been strange getting used to it all.” Dale admits. “I get stopped in the street now - not as much as Helen, but blokes recognise me at the pub.”

But for the most part, it’s business as usual.

“We work hard, we’re passionate about what we do, and we’re passionate about each other,” Helen says.

I can’t help but ask Helen, “Is Dale as passionate in private as he is in public?”

She giggles, as Dale goes red. “Let’s just say we have no issues in that department,” she says, winking. It’s enough to bring the temperature in this cool French bistro up a few degrees!

As Helen steals a kiss from her blushing beau, I’m reminded of the couple’s enduring appeal. Who wouldn’t invite them into their living room of the evening?

While Geoff Walters has announced his imminent return to the desk, his recent health scare has shown the veteran newsreader is not as invincible as he previously seemed. I ask Dale and Helen if we might see them together on the desk, someday soon.

“Oh, we haven’t even moved in together yet!” Helen laughs. “Right now, we’re focusing on supporting each other to do good work and keep Melbourne informed.”

The couple are admirably humble about their ambitions. All the while as I wave them goodbye and watch them walk down Brunswick Street arm in arm, it’s hard not to think of them as the future of news; young, smart, totally in love, and with the whole world at their feet.”

Episode Six - Chernobyl (and a sweet magazine article)

Edited to include the full story! Thank you @dontwanderoff for linking me to the full article on Twitter!

[misc-headcanons]

Hello! Can I request a scenario or some hc of Shoto and Tamaki? They having a crush in a person who has ugly scars in their back bcs of their quirk, and it actually hurts them when they use it. Plus theyre kinda small, so the scars look even bigger. Thank you a lot!

(I've never written Shoto before and I'm like...lowkey nervous about getting his characterization right, lol 😅 Hopefully these are to your liking, anon!)

Shoto

So despite how awkward/blunt Shoto may be in canon, I think he'd have enough sense/sensitivity to not ask about his crush's scars in any public setting. If they mentioned it though while explaining what their Quirk does, he'd ask how they deal with it. He knows what it's like to have a painful scar affected by his Quirk (even now, his burn mark is still sensitive to heat and cold if he isn't careful), and he doesn't like the thought of his crush having to deal with that pain.

He feels a twinge of sadness and disappointment when they call themselves or their scars "ugly". Even if the scars were horrific and covered their whole back, it just seemed like the wrong word to describe them. Whenever he tries to comfort them, he usually does it without really thinking through what he should say and just winds up awkwardly rambling:

"Having scars doesn't make someone ugly, ____. I have one on my face, but all of the people who interview me say I'm a "pretty boy" and stuff. And your face is a lot prettier than mine. See, you have that dimple there whenever you smile; dimples are cute, so nobody's who's got one like yours is ugly. I don't have a dimple...Hmm, then again, I don't smile much. Maybe I have a dimple, but I've never noticed it…"

He'd offer to let them borrow some of his Vitamin E ointment for their scars, and because they're on ____'s back he'd offer to put it on for them. He didn't really get why ____ had blushed when he offered to do that, or why Kaminari had tried to high-five him after he came out of their room once he'd finished rubbing in the oil.. Soon it became a common weekly routine for the two of them to put some Vitamin E on each other's scars (they're one of the only people allowed to actually touch it without him flinching) and it was only during the third or fourth night of doing this that Todoroki suddenly realized...he was touching ____'s back. ____ didn't have a shirt on. And he was massaging them. He didn't stop after that, but now whenever he went into their room his cheeks were a bit red.

Whenever he finally got the courage to actually confess, it would be very blunt. Like, he'd approach ____ in the dorms, ask to talk to them privately, and say "I've had a crush on you for a long time. Would you want to date?" If they thought he was joking or playing a cruel prank on them ("Why would you want to be with someone as ugly as me?"), he'd also bluntly tell them that they are not and never WILL be ugly. And if they really think they're ugly because of their scars, then he'll be ugly right along with them. He may even offer to wear a bag on his face as part of his Hero costume, just to make them more comfortable with not being the only "ugly" Hero with scars. When his s/o just kisses him and tells him that won't be necessary, he nods and does his best to hug them back (he's not used to hugging anyone outside of his family...yet)

Tamaki

Tamaki's used to talking and thinking negatively about himself, but the moment his crush describes their scars as ugly, he automatically replies by saying they're wrong--and then apologizes for saying something so bluntly. But...there's no way ____ was ugly, just because of the scars on their back! 

He'd start stammering some of the (many) things he thinks makes them cute: their eyes, their tiny petite frame, the way their nose crinkled up whenever they laughed really hard at something...If he managed to find the courage to say it, he'd say that their scars weren't ugly to him at all. Sure, they were...different-looking, but they weren't ugly. They always reminded him of tiger stripes, or those photos of lighting right in the middle of striking a tree or something. He'd say that they're pretty, just in a "different" way than what some would describe as pretty. And when he realized that he'd just called his crush "pretty", he'd clam up and wouldn't be able to speak to them for the rest of the day.

He'd constantly be checking on them to make sure they weren't overworking their Quirk. He knows what it's like to push past the limits of his abilities, but he thinks that the risk of them getting hurt isn't worth it. He'd be able to pick up on the signs that his crush was in too much pain from using her Quirk, and he'd try to convince them to stop using for a while and take a break. If the pain lasts until after school, he'd do or get anything they need to feel better: heating pad, painkillers, water, or just talking to them to distract them from the pain.

If they asked him to put some ointment on their scars though, he'd turn bright red and squeak out a small "okay…" He's very gentle, almost too gentle--he'd barely rub a dab of it into their skin before nervously asking if he's hurting them. 

Mirio and Nejire would be dropping hints to ____ that Tamaki likes them, because God knows that shy little sweetheart isn't going to be able to confess on his own without passing out from sheer anxiety. Mirio would probably have to be there to catch Tamaki when ____ finally realized he liked them as much as they liked him, and asked if he'd like to go on a date. Tamaki would (after the initial shock had passed) say yes, of course, and they'd wind up being THE cutest couple. If ____'s scars were sensitive, they were definitely lucky to be dating the sweetest and softest boy at UA.

[starjeno]

destined | l.mh | 3

genre: fluff | soulmate!au, genderswap!au pairing: student!mark x female!reader warnings: bad words? word count: 1973 summary: it’s a fact of life that soulmates swap bodies. when mark wakes up in a bed that isn’t his, he’s delighted. you, on the other hand, absolutely despise it. a/n: filler chapter, sorry! and i know it’s been a while since i’ve posted. also, i gave the roommate a name finally. 

the sunset filtering through your curtains fills the room with hazy light. it’s soft and golden and comforting, but it does little to placate your roommate. her arms remain crossed over her chest as you pace by the mini-fridge nervously, waiting for this interrogation to end.

“okay, but what did yuta say?” she’s already somehow familiarized herself with the names of the people involved, and while it took some time for her to get used to your new appearance, she currently seems to have grown accustomed to it. you groan, “i told you, yuta likes this whole thing. he just ignored me and then said that i should take mark into consideration.”

“why can’t mark take you into consideration instead?” she retorts. you huff, “i told you this too! mark also thinks i like this whole thing!”

“well? do you?”

you can’t help the hesitation that bubbles up in your throat when you think about the events of earlier. the rapid beating of your heart and the heat in the tips of your ears and the strange familiarity that accompanied each of mark’s words — he felt like a missing puzzle piece, like someone you loved in a past life, and you didn’t like how you unconsciously gravitated towards him as he spoke. 

then again, you only saw him for a few hours, so maybe you’re overexaggerating. you shake your head firmly, “i don’t! you know that! i don’t want any of this!”

she gives you an unplaceable look, her eyes filled with contemplation, before groaning and sitting up, “let’s go out to eat. you’ve had a rough day.”

“you’ll pay?”

“yeah,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair, “i don’t want you to confuse the cashier with your credit card info. let’s get out of here.”

it’s a blessing that your roommate has kun. she’s accumulated enough of his clothing that your new body has a decent selection to choose from. though the clothes all fit loosely, you figure tucking your dress shirt into your pants and looping a belt tightly through should make sure your outfit is secure. she stands in the doorway as she watches you change, blushing feverishly when she associates your initial meeting with yuta with the boxers that now hug you snugly. 

“where do you feel like eating?” 

you hum in thought as you grab a cap, “honestly? kun’s place. he makes such good food.”

she rolls her eyes before dialing her boyfriend’s number on the phone. it rings for a few seconds until the line clicks and you hear a deep voice fill the speaker, “what’s up? you only call at this time when you’re hungry. or horny. or both. please don’t be both.”

“uh, just hungry. also, ____ and i have something we should tell you,” she mumbles, “i’ll be over in five.”

she hangs up before looking over to me and sighing, "i'll do your hair."

as you sit down in front of a mirror and watch your roommate squeeze out a frightening amount of gel onto her palm, you can't help but think about mark again. it's hard not to since his face is the reflection and it shines with a bright optimism that you currently lack. you attempt a half-hearted smile to make his features seem pleasant; it feels wrong when his face frowns.

meanwhile, the girl behind the chair slicks your hair in a neat quiff, sparing a few strands to fall onto your forehead casually. you look handsome, and you're somewhat pleased that kun's first impression of your soulmate will be great on terms of looks.

not that you cared particularly. you don't. you aren't even sure you know what a mark is, much less feel as if others should approve of him.

"there, let's go," she hums, wiping her hands off with a towel and spritzing some floral scent on the two of you before walking out. you follow reluctantly.

kun's apartment is cute and filled with small plants that are groomed to perfection. little canvases with a dramatic ink strokes line the walls above the television and couches, and pens are littered in the corners of every room. there's even a pen tucked into the pocket of the man himself, who is still in the ironed dress shirt he went to work in.

his smile radiates as the two of you walk into the hall, but you can sense the air tension rise, “mina and . . . a friend?”

“ha ha, very funny, kun. you won’t believe who this is,” your roommate grins as you two sit down. kun pauses for a bit before backing into his kitchen, grabbing a spare pan to add on top of the stove, thinking, “uh, a cousin? your long-lost brother? i thought ____ was coming over.”

“exactly,” she huffs before motioning over to you, “meet mark, or better known as ____ in mark’s body.”

kun gasps and points the pan at you accusingly, laughter lacing his voice, “oh my god, you fucking swapped?”

you grin and place a hand to drag the pot down, “i know, it’s crazy.”

“at least he’s cute,” the dimpled boy chuckles, sighing in disbelief. he definitely knew you well.

“agreed,” you smile a bit and your roommate shoots you a short-lived glare before looking at kun, “so we came here to destress from such a horrific event by eating your food.”

“that sounds like a plan . . . ,” he muses, a small smile growing on his face as he takes out cooking oil, “you guys can just chill, and i’ll have something cooked up in ten.”

as soon as you pull your phone out, a notification slides onto a screen. you bite your lip as the social messaging app displays the message of a new follower, and when you hold down for more details, you instantly recognize the handle.

mark. he must've searched you up, and if he's managed to follow you on here, he's probably found all your socials by now. as if on cue, you see three more notifs slide gracefully on your phone, beaming with a new friend request. you aren’t sure if you’re happy or annoyed, or a bit of both, but you hold down and open the app to find a new direct message awaiting your approval.

mark1ee (online): hi! sorry if this is creepy but i figured we’re friends now, so...

good lord. you bite your lips to keep from laughing at his shyness, finding it adorable, and avert your eyes from your phone. mina glares at you quizzically, raising a brow as if to ask what you’re amused at, but you simply shake your head emphatically and begin to type back.

you: how’d you know my last name? there’s probably more than one ____ out there. mark1ee is typing . . .

"here, some cheesy ass lasagna. i put, like, five different kinds of cheese in there, or just whatever was in my fridge.” kun slides two plates to you and your roommate and grabs the nearest chair to sit. he looks at you as you tentatively poke at the stuffing, “i didn’t poison it, you know.”

“shut up, i’m critiquing it!” you laugh as you place a food-filled fork in your mouth, smiling at the instant flavor, “whoa, i forgot how good you are at this.”

he lowers his brows as he smiles, “you mean you forgot my job is in the culinary arts?” 

you face downwards as kun strikes up a conversation with your roommate and glance at the notification on your phone. it doesn’t take a moment of hesitation for you to swipe and check mark’s message.

mark1ee (online): i checked the profile pictures. it would be a lot easier to make sure i’m contacting the right person if i had your number ;) you: how smooth. how do i know this is the mark i met earlier today? mark1ee (online): already asking for pics? damn. mark1ee sent a photo mark1ee (online): i forgot that it’s basically just a pic of you lmao :/ now pls send #

you snort and look up to find your roommate and kun staring at you intently. you wave your hand dismissively, "funny meme, sorry."

they give you a strange look before resuming the conversation, and you hide your phone under your leg before digging into the meal before you.

"so, what's going on?"

at the question, yuta sighs as mark walks in, his hand rubbing a towel through his wet hair, "winwin is coming back early. a week early."

"are you not excited?" mark quips. the older male tiredly grins, "i'm excited, believe me. but i'm worried that i won't pay enough attention to your switch."

mark frowns, the wrinkles ruining the feminine face, "i'll be fine. she just sent me her number!"

he takes a seat by yuta and faces the flatscreen in front, his glossy eyes reflecting the bright lights of the video game. yuta glances at his long lashes and soft brows for a moment before resuming the screen, "damn, good job. maybe you have enough game to survive without me."

"wha- fuck you! and you'll still be here!" mark laughs, picking up the other controller.

"i'm running away with winwin, by the way," yuta jokes. he lets mark join the round before pressing the buttons again, "now that you have her number, what are you going to do? ask her on a date?"

mark freezes. he hadn't even thought of what to do, and right now, yuta feels like a personal certified love guru. what a great fucking idea! before he could spend more time admiring yuta's genius, mark drops the controller and sends a new text to you, hoping for a stroke of luck.

he didn't really need luck though. he had literally found his soulmate that morning.

you: wanna go on a date? nctzn (online): how would i get clothes, doof? i'm wearing my roomie's bf's shit now :/ you: well, keep wearing them and i'll buy myself a dress? i don't care what you wear though, i'm not a great dresser.

mark is lying to his new form. he had always considered himself as someone with a good eye for outfits and color coordination. he sighs as the green dot by your profile that signifies your online presence fades away, and he figures he should probably find another way to pass the time while you’re offline. yuta waits expectantly, “well?”

“clothing’s an issue. and i don’t even know where i should take her,” mark grins, “it’s going to feel so weird, like going on a date with myself? trippy.”

“you’ll survive, it’s not like you’re ugly,” yuta sighs as he rolls his eyes with exasperation. mark doesn’t respond. he’s too preoccupied with the idea of you to even process yuta’s words. he’s never felt so giddy about a girl before — even his middle school crushes never got him feeling this jittery. conversation with you flowed so smoothly, and even mark knew how strange it was to feel this way after one conversation. 

he’s glad you reciprocate his feelings. everything’s he heard about soulmates seems to be true: you fit him well. mark knows he should be a little more hesitant, but this is finally a dream come true. you’re a dream come true. 

you: let’s go on a date tmrw then? nctzn (online): ok why not

mark glances up at the bright orange sky. the sun has only just started to set and the evening barely grazes the warm colors. are you just as happy as he is now? is your head filled with thoughts of him, the same way he can’t stop thinking about you?

mark’s pauses, not sure if he should dare to think his next question, but the idea floats in his head anyway and he turns pink with embarrassment.

yuta turns away, silent.

prev | masterlist | next

[helbramstrauma-main]

Beach Days

Masterlist

Albert DaSilva x Reader

Modern Era: How many romantic cliches can I fit into a one-shot. A lot, but I am still proud of it.

Word Count 2636

Sophomore year is coming to a quick close. Classes are wrapping up and the failing air conditioner is becoming more of a problem. Although the end of a school year is always bittersweet, one of the best parts is the summer trip. Specifically planning it, last year Katharine's family let us use their lake house for two weeks. However this year we have all decided to pitch in a little more to rent a house on the beach.

We found an Airbnb less than a mile away from the beaches of Rehoboth. There was a small argument between Jack and Race on which beach to go to, but all of the rentals in Myrtle Beach are out of our price range. Deep down we all know it doesn't matter where we go, good times will always follow. 

Today at lunch we are making sleeping arrangements. Davey is big on maps, lists, and everything organized- without him, we would be lost. The bell rings signaling that lunch is starting.

"Y/n, stay after," my teacher says. Great, I am kind of in a hurry to get somewhere. I answer his question only half listening, and practically bolt out of his room. The hallways are not empty but are filled with extremely slow walkers, making me get to my destination even slower. It will be fine, I'm sure they won't start without me.

Once I made it to the lunch table I see Davey standing on his chair holding a book above Race, but I decide not to question it and instead take my spot next to Kathrine and Albert. Albert and I were practically instant friends, he is a year advance than me but were still in the same History my Freshman year. He helped me work out the winding halls if the schools, and we have been inseparable ever since. Recently though I have been trying to put a wall in-between us. It isn't that I don't like Albert, I just like him too much. Our relationship is completely platonic and I want to keep it that way, I cannot risk our friendship with my feelings. Although putting a wall between us will hurt our friendship temporarily it is better than ruining it completely with my one-sided feelings.

Race seemed to of lost interest in Davey's book as he takes his seat across from Albert. Jojo sits down in front of me and the rest of the boys eventually file in from the lunch line. I end up packing snacks throughout the day so lunch is more of a social period to me, rather than anything else.

Davey opens the book Race was trying to take to reveal a list of all of our names and how many people can fit in each room. Without dispute Jack and Kathrine claim the master bedroom, leaving us with five bedrooms and a pullout couch. Finch takes the couch because he doesn't want to wake anyone with his snoring. Davey claims the room with the two twins for him and Les. Crutchie takes the single room with another couch that Specs takes. Elmer, Romeo, and Mush claim the bunk beds with a single. Jojo and Race argue over who will get the top bunk in the bunk only room, while Spot claims he wants to bring a cot, so he "doesn't have to deal with anybody". All of this madness flies by leaving only one room left, the double. Albert and I are the only people without a bed, and people expected us to room together anyway. Therefore we were not claimed by any other group. I am not keen on having the smallest of the rooms though, makes me wonder how they fit two beds. At the same time, I am excited to be sharing with Albert even though I shouldn't be. I need to distance myself from him, but maybe being in close quarters with him will make me realize how unbearable he truly is.

A few weeks go by and eventually it is time for me to pack. Now is the time if I am going to be self-conscious about this or not. After about an hour of debating if I should go crop top or sweater, I decided on crop top because if I don't know I never will. Being a master procrastinator I manage to pack everything in under two hours. However, being paranoid I check my luggage every five minutes to make sure I remembered everything.

The next mourning I am anxiously waiting with my suitcase when I see Race's 2001 Saturn approach my driveway. He honks his horn probably waking up my neighbors so I run to the car not wanting to be confronted.

Only Race, Albert, and I were in the car as our luggage took up the rest of the space. To maximize space I sat on the passenger side seat in the back so the other seats could be collapsed. With Race's horrific driving skills it was relatively common for a suitcase to fall on me during the ride. Luckily the ride was only a little over three and a half hours so I didn't have to hear all of Race, and Albert's bickering for too long. Being in the backseat bars you from any conversation happening in the front seat, I didn't mind me time though. I will have plenty of time to talk to them once we arrive.

Although the ride wasn't long that didn't stop Albert form incrementally leaning his seat back more and more. At some point, I couldn't move my legs and I was practically squished against the door and the suitcases. Even though my situation was less than ideal, I couldn't help but blush at the situation. I rested my arms on either side of his seat, as they have nowhere else to go, and he arches his back just to look at me. This silent exchange is so intimate I could have sworn I saw him blush too. The moment is taken away prematurely due to Race's atrocious ability to drive. He swerves off of the highway onto the exit causing a suitcase to fall and crush me. All I could hear was the sound of Albert's laugh echo throughout the car.

I eventually get the fallen suitcase off of me and before I know it, we have arrived. Even though Race ignored the speed limit the whole way there we were still the last people to arrive. I grab my luggage and begin to explore the house with Davey as my tour guide. Once I struggle to bring my suitcase upstairs we eventually make it to the floor where my bedroom is, Davey and Les are the only other room on our floor, along with our shared bathroom. On the other side of the banister is the master with Jack and Kathrine. I open the door to reveal a small room with a dresser at the end of the bed. The room is barely wide enough to fit the mattress so you have to climb over the end of it to get in. I turn around expecting a similar situation but there is only a wall with a mirror.

What do you mean there is only one bed? It was listed as a double room on the website.

"Davey, where is the other bed? Isn't this the double room" I ask him, thinking he played a part in one of Romeo or Mush's pranks.

Davey laughs for a bit before answering me, "what do you think a double room is? It has a double mattress". Albert comes up the stairs carrying his suitcase followed by Jack. Davey and Jack make an awkward exit leaving Albert and me to unpack. We both laugh off the bed thing as a funny miscommunication but I couldn't help the blush on my face. A similar redness appears on Albert's face as we discuss the matter of the bed. He can't be sunburnt already?

Our room is incredibly small making it hard for Albert and me to maneuver around each other. Once I unpack all of my belongings, it is impossible to keep my suitcase in here as it takes up too much space, I throw my self onto the bed. Being able to stretch out a little more than I could in the car is nice. My space was soon halved as Albert did the same thing I did. His left side overlapping my own as we both stretch out. After a few minutes of a conversation, Specs opens the door to announce we are leaving for the beach in about an hour. I sigh and get up to retrieve my swimsuit. Looking at the options I brought I decide on some white high waisted bikini bottoms with a sunflower print top over a baby blue backdrop. It tied in the back and around the neck, so it was secure enough, to take Instagram photos in, but not much more. Even though the structural integrity of it was shaky at best, it still made me feel confident. Albert opts to change in the bathroom, so he could give me my privacy.

After I get my number on I am shamelessly taking photos in the full-length mirror, when I hear a knock at the door. I stop what I am doing to open the door to see Albert. He had to do a double-take before coming in. Usually, I would be disgusted but I let it slide because it gives me a little more confidence. Knowing that Albert thinks I look good is always an ego boost. He tells me that some of the boys are waiting downstairs and to go there when I am done. He decides to wait for me as I grab a hair tie and my black crochet cover-up. I can see him checking me out due to the reflection in the mirror, and I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Albert is being a creepy but the attention is nice, especially since deep down, I know I want him to see me the way he is. I want to pursue a relationship with Albert, but the risk of losing his friendships keeps me from trying. However, that may change this trip if I keep seeing him look at me like he is right now.

Once we make our way downstairs I immediately spot Kathrine and stand by her, being the only two girls in the group have made us close. Therefore, I am about to tell her about all of my feelings towards Albert and ask for advice. Frankly, I would be lost without her, she gives the best advice, don't tell Davey I said that though. One the short walk to the beach Kathrine and I walk behind everybody else, so I can catch her up. Once I tell her my feelings she immediately lights up like she knows something. When I point it out though she plays dumb and doesn't give any details. Her advice is to simply go for it, and it will work itself out.

To be honest I don't think now is the right time to say I like him. For starters, I am terrified of rejection and on top of that, we are not only sharing a room but a bed as well. If he doesn't reciprocate my feelings it would make out sleeping predicament more uncomfortable than it already is. That being said, Kathrine seems extremely confident that Albert shares the same feelings.

Once we get to the beach I lay out my towel and take out my sun lotion. One time Race lit an aerosol one on fire and we have a strict no-spray rule now. Les is already building a sandcastle with Davey and Finch, while Romeo is desperately hitting on the passing girls. One day he is going to get punched, and he frankly deserves it. Specs and Crutchie are conversing with the local dogs while everyone else is either in the ocean or basking in the sunlight. I fall into the category of desperately looking for my sun hat which I know I forgot.

While I am leaning over in my beach back I feel an arm pull me off the ground. My eyes are closed out of shock but the laugh no debatably belongs to Albert. I try to squirm out of his grip but he is rapidly approaching the ocean and I don't have enough time to escape. After I realize this, I switch my strategy to comprise, begging for him to not get my hair wet. Once he is about waist-deep in the water I can tell that my pleads were not granted as his grip loosens around me. The cold water hits me as I am briefly submerged. My top withstood the fall which is a miracle but when I come up out of the water, I am looking for one thing, revenge.

I kick-off of the ground and splashing out of the water and latch onto his back. I know I can't pick him up so my only option is to bring him down. My arms latch onto his shoulders and he is thrashing about like a bull. Once he shook me off I quickly grab onto his torso bringing him with me. I was not thinking about collateral damage because he, in fact, fell on top of me.

After a while at the beach the sun begins to set the water becomes unbearably cold. The rest of the day is uneventful as people just want to go to bed after a long day of traveling. I hope in the shower to wash my hair, but if I make it quick as all of the hot water was gone. When I re-enter my room Albert is already laying on the bed checking his phone. He appears to type something before plugging it in beside mine, at the end of the bed. I crawl into bed but I don't go under the covers just yet. I throw my hair into a bun so it is easier to comb in the morning and then attempted to wiggle my way under the sheets. Our legs touch briefly before turning into a ball facing him. This causes Albert to laugh and do the same. Eventually, we become comfortable with the proximity and allow for our legs to touch.

A conversation sparks between the two of us and I can't keep track of time. The room is pitch black but I am still able to see the outline of Albert's face, we are incredibly close to one another.

"Seeing you today made me realize something," Albert says. This piques my interest and I prop myself up on my hands as he continues. "I can't pretend to be your friend anymore". My heart breaks into a million pieces, he isn't even my friend. I don't stop the tear the falls down my face, but I hold back the waterfall attempt to come out. "what I mean is, I want more. I can't pretend to just me your friend when I won't do much more. When I want to hold you all the time and call you pet names. I want that" Albert says all at once, noticing the shift in my mood. Kathrine was right, he would reciprocate my feelings! The tears threatening to come out retreat back as I am overcome with an overwhelming amount of joy.

All I manage to say in my joyous frenzie is, "then hold me".

Without hesitation, I feel out bodies press up against each other as our legs tangle. I instinctively nuzzle my head into the crook of his neck. I could get used to sleeping like this, I can get used to Albert.

[bensakindofmagic]

Dad and His Son

so i wrote an au based on this post, because apparently i like to hurt myself. you can read it if you like to hurt yourself too. 

w/c: 1.8k

no warnings, just fluff 

A/N: this is an au in which roger is ben’s dad, and for the sake of ease/clarity/my laziness, his mum is a fictional woman. i didn’t want to get bogged down in research and step-parents and exploring those relationship cause this is just a light-hearted wee blurb. don’t get mad about it. right. that’s the admin done with. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be fine,” Ben said calmly, coming round to your side of the car as you got out and taking your hand in his considerably larger one. You took a deep breath, exhaling hard, as you took in the house before you. It had been intimidating from the end of the drive as it was slowly revealed behind the automatic gates, and as it grew before your eyes your pulse had started to quicken. It was beautiful, and enormous, and surrounded by fields and forests. You would have marvelled at its magnificence had you not been so nervous of what lay inside.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, disgruntled.

“It’s just my parents, and they’re going to love you, Y/N/N.”

Just his parents. Meeting the parents for the first time is hard enough, but when your boyfriend’s dad is Roger Fucking Taylor, that makes everything a little more tricky. Needless to say you were shitting a brick. 

He rang the doorbell, even though they had already buzzed you in through the gate, and what was supposed to be a steadying breath rattled in your chest. Ben squeezed your fingers. 

“Ben, darling!” his mum gushed, engulfing him in a hug. She managed to wrap him up entirely despite being significantly shorter than him.

“Mum,” he said, detaching himself from her after kissing her cheek, “This is my girlfriend, Y/N."

You smiled in your best impression of someone who’s not feeling horrifically awkward and contemplating a runner, “Hello Mrs Taylor.”

“Oh love, call me Jodie.” She smiled warmly and immediately pulled you into a hug. Ben grinned at you over her shoulder. “Come on in, lunch is nearly ready. Roger! They’re here!” she called into the house, bustling into the kitchen.

“After you,” Ben gestured, raising his eyebrows.

The house was massive, but beautifully light and spacious. A large staircase stood proudly in the middle of the hall, splitting the room and leading to the upstairs realm. Evidence of Queen’s rock-god days lay casually scattered everywhere, hiding in plain sight — framed gold discs were hung on the walls beside artworks, photos of the band were camouflaged between groups of children smiling giddily up from their frames. Conscious of not appearing nosy but wanting to see everything, you peered furtively through a half open door to see piles of old records surrounding an enormous speaker. 

“Come on,” Ben gestured with a nod of his head, “I’ll give you the tour later.”

You allowed him to rest his hand lightly on your lower back, anchoring you to him as you ventured into the kitchen/living room. 

Roger — that being Roger Taylor. Actual Roger Taylor — was sat in an armchair, idly flicking through the channels on the TV. He glanced at you over his shoulder, piercing blue eyes like ice as they caught you in their hooded stare. Ben may have got the green from his mother but the intensity of colour, the gaze that turns you into a puddle on the floor, that was all from his dad’s side. 

“Rog,” Ben’s mum admonished, “come and say hello.”

He stood slowly, and crossed the space between you: it seemed to take a lifetime. Your heart thumped loudly around your head, the sound bouncing between your ears with each step. 

“Dad, this is Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said, testing the word on his tongue, and held out a hand to you. His skin was soft with age but still calloused in the places where his drumstick fit between his fingers. A smile hid beneath his moustache. “Ben’s told us a lot about you, but I see he didn’t mention how beautiful you are.” 

Your blush was ferocious. 

Ben scoffed, “Yeah, alright Dad. I know you still fancy yourself as a ladies’ man, but can you not flirt with my girlfriend please?”

“Well someone’s got to do it,” he mumbled, turning his attention over to his extensive wine rack. You laughed, incredulous, and Ben just rolled his eyes. 

You sat down for lunch and gratefully tucked into the beautiful food Ben’s mum had made, making sure to to compliment her and thank her for her hospitality. You were desperately careful, as images of knocking over wine glasses or sending plates crashing to the floor with your elbow flooded through you mind’s eye. Ben felt your tension and laid a palm on your knee under the table. 

He gave it a gentle squeeze and shot you a slight smile. 

“Are you keeping up your drumming, Ben?” Roger asked. 

His hummed his assent while he swallowed a mouthful, “Yeah, not as much as I’d like, what with work being so busy, but it’s a good stress reliever.” 

“Are you a musician, Y/N?” Jodie inquired.

“No, no I’m not. I’m a music lover, for sure, but I never learnt an instrument.”

“But she has an incredible voice,” Ben interjected. 

You fought a blush and admonished, “Given present company I think that’s something of an overstatement.” Roger chuckled; you felt a small glow of pride in your stomach. 

“Y/N, sweetheart, tell us about yourself. What do you do?” 

“Uh, I’m a film journalist. I actually met Ben to interview him for a piece.”

“So your thing is movies? Which is your favourite?” Roger asked.

You shook your head, “I can’t answer that, it’s like picking between your children.”

“That’s easy, Ben’s sister Rory, she’s the smart one.” His face was stoic but his glinting eyes betrayed him.

Ben grunted sarcastically, “Cheers Dad.”

Ben held conversation a lot of the time, knowing how nervous you were and how you struggled to make conversation with new people as it was. He talked you up wherever he found an opportunity and made it easy for you to engage. By the end of the meal some of your nerves had worn away and the gnawing in your belly was replaced with a satisfied fullness. Roger sat back, sated, and announced, “Alright Y/N, you get one question.”

You looked to Ben in confusion, “I’m sorry?”

“People are always dying to ask about Queen, and I like so you I’m going to give you one question. Make it a good one, mind, not just ‘what was Freddie like?’ Or ‘which is your favourite song?’”

“No pressure then,” you sighed. “Okay, who was best at scrabble?”

Roger laughed heartily. “Oh Brian, obviously. He got the highest score I’ve ever seen — it was ‘lacquers’ and he scored 168, the bastard. But Fred was a bit of a dark horse too. He used to just put one tile down and connect this here and that there and tot up all these points.” 

His eyes glazed as the memory played out in them. He gave a sad smile, cheeks dimpling with the weight of it. “Oh the adventures of life on the road.”

You got the tour of the house after lunch; Ben showed the studio and his old bedroom and you delighted in seeing his old photos in his room. You gasped, picking one up, “Oh my gosh, Ben, is this you?”

 A smiling Freddie Mercury was holding a blonde, rather pouty-looking baby.

“Yeah,” Ben smiled softly, “I never knew him properly, he died when I was still really young. But it’s pretty special to think that he knew me.”

There were more traces of Queen, and other rock ’n’ roll bands, around the room, posters and albums, and the drum kit in the corner bore the band’s logo. Photos chronicled his childhood, frequently featuring a much younger Roger. It was bizarre to you, to see that version of the man you recognised from your favourite band, holding a young boy who would grow up to become the love of your life. How strange, that those two strands of your life converged in the preserved bedroom of a teenage boy. 

“I didn’t know you were such a Queen fan, Ben. You don’t talk about it much.”

Ben shrugged, “I was a bit obsessed when I was a kid. Obviously I’m still so proud of Dad, and I love the music, but I guess I’ve toned it down a bit. I’m following my own path now, but back then I wanted to be just like him.”

His hand was sat limply in his pocket, so you threaded your arm through his and kissed his cheek. “I think it’s sweet.” 

“What do you think of them?”

“Your mum and dad? They’re lovely.”

“Not going to scare you off then?”

“Never,” you smiled. 

Back downstairs you offered to help Jodie with the washing up while Ben and Roger talked shop in the studio about some new drum kit or other. 

“You’re too good to them, letting them skip out on helping clear away,” you joked as you dried up. 

“Oh I wouldn’t usually,” Jodie mused, “but Rog likes it when Ben’s home. I think he misses the kids more than he cares to admit. But I hope that means you don’t let Ben get away with not doing his fair share!”

“Absolutely it does. He’s good about it though, you taught him well.” 

“I’m glad to hear it… You know, you’re the first girl he’s ever brought home to meet us,” she said, glancing at you. Your movements stilled. “I think he’s always been nervous about it. I suspect he was worried that they’d be intimidated by the whole thing, that his dad would scare them off. But he was very keen for us to meet you. He was most anxious that we make a good impression.”

Her words took you aback; you had been so worried about your own nerves that you’d barely stopped to consider his. When you came to think of it, there had been a slight tension in his shoulders, a hint of rambliness about the way he had spoken, as if he felt he had to fill the silences before they materialised.

Jodie continued, “You know, I thought you must be someone pretty special if he wanted us to meet you so badly. I’ve been very excited about it.” 

You smiled meekly, pressing your lips together, “I hope I didn’t let you down.”

“Oh of course not darling, it’s been a pleasure. And it’s very sweet to see you with Ben, he looks so happy with you. I think he’s quite smitten.”

You were spared your blushes by footsteps in the doorway and Ben came in, followed by Roger,  asking, “What are you two gossiping about? Already ganging up on me?” 

He slipped his arm around your waist and looked down fondly at you. 

“Hm, something like that,” you hummed, and returned Jodie’s knowing smile. 

He leant down to whisper in your ear, “I think they like you,” and nudged your cheek with his nose. 

Roger smiled, eyes sparkling, “Son, I’d say this one’s a keeper.”

[izzyfandoms]

Chosen - Chapter One

(This is a Gender-Swapped Sanders Sides high school au)

SUMMARY: Logan Berry, Dee Ceite, Patricia Foster, Virginia Picani and Regina and Rena Prince are all 16-year-old high school students. They live relatively normal lives, with ordinary lessons and ordinary crushes and ordinary families, until one day a monster shows up and attacks them after class, and everything suddenly changes.

SHIPS: Moxiety, Logince, Dukeceit

WARNINGS: Minor violence, minor sexual implications (Remus), Remus being Remus, swearing, sympathetic Deceit, sympathetic Remus

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game

Masterpost

NEXT CHAPTER

“Does this lipstick match my eyeshadow?” Regina spun around in her chair, away from the mirror, to pout her lips at her twin sister, Rena, who was standing on her bed, lacing up her boots.

“Who cares if they match?” Rena jumped off the bed, running her fingers through her unbrushed hair and bouncing over to Regina’s side of the room. “What matters is whether or not the lipstick tastes good.”

“It’s not flavoured.”

Rena laughed, picking up the tube of lipstick and flicking off the lid. “Everything has a flavour if you’re not a coward,” She exclaimed, and, with that, she took a bite of lipstick, removing almost half of it, chewing on it thoughtfully as her sister screamed at her.

“Rena!” Regina screeched, snatching it back and holding it protectively to her chest. “That was brand new!”

Rena grinned, unremorseful, showing off two rows of lipstick-stained teeth. Regina sighed, putting the cap back on and putting it back in the drawer of her desk, pushing it shut.  

She looked her sister up and down, one eyebrow raised. “Are you really wearing that to school?”

“What’s wrong with my outfit?”

Regina crossed her arms. “It’s identical to mine! The only differences are the colours and the fact that I wear it so much better than you!”

It was true, Rena was wearing a green, black and silver short-sleeved dress that was identical in every way except colour to Regina’s red, white and gold one.

Rena blew a raspberry, marching over to their shared closet and pulling out a denim jacket. It was stained with colours that would never wash out, and was one of the ugliest jackets either of them had ever seen, but that was why it was her favourite.

She pulled it on and grinned again, an unchewed piece of lipstick falling from her lips and landing on the carpet. Rena crushed it underfoot. “See, now we look different! Plus, my boots are so much cooler than yours. Hey, what if I pulled out someone’s intestines and wore them like a scarf, would that suit me?”

Regina ignored that last part, but still wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Rena, your boots don’t even match! One’s green and one’s pink, they don’t go together at all.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and spun around, picking her phone up from the dresser. “Did I absorb all the fashion sense in the womb, you… early 2000s reject.”

“Is that the best you got, you wrinkled duck’s penis?”

“Okay, that one was weird, even for you.”

Rena pouted exaggeratedly, slouching. “Uh, everyone knows a duck’s penis looks super weird, it’s like, common knowledge or something.”

“It is most certainly not common knowledge, you’re just a weirdo.” Regina then began to scroll through her phone, eyes lighting up slightly.

Rena straightened up, moving to see what her sister was looking at. It was exactly what she’d expected it to be – a picture of a school schedule, one that most certainly wasn’t hers.

“Ugh,” Rena groaned. “You’re looking at Logan’s schedule again. Isn’t that a bit stalkery? You complain when I talk about all my future crimes, and yet you do this? Hypocrite. I hate you.”

Regina glanced up. “Okay, first of all: you, like, go into such graphic detail about how you’ll murder people and eat their hearts, it’s disgusting. And, second of all: you cannot talk. You literally ate a photo of Dee, like, yesterday, and it definitely wasn’t the first time you’ve done that. You shouldn’t eat paper, you Queen of (eating) Hearts”

Rena blew another raspberry, wrapping her fingers around Regina’s wrist and beginning to drag her sister towards the bedroom door, picking up her school bag on the way. It was neon green and horrifically ugly, as expected. There were dozens of ripped stickers stuck to the straps.

“C’mon, Gina, we’re gonna be late for school. You can think about Logan and have some alone time later.”

Regina raised an eyebrow. “Have some-” Her face twisted in disgust when she realised what Rena was referring to. “Rena, what? No, I’m not- that’s gross! I don’t wanna talk about that, you’ve got to stop bringing it up!” She yanked her hand out of her sister’s grip, but Rena just shrugged.

“It’s a natural human thing, nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I recently-”

“Nope! No, no, nope. I refuse to listen to this.” Regina picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder, before placing her fingers in her ears and screwing her eyes shut. “La, La, La. I can’t hear you!”

Rena hummed in thought, before cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting. “Hey, what if you and Logan fucked!”

Regina screeched in offended horror, eyes opening to glare at Rena, just as their dad, Philip, walked in. There was only a slight look of disappointment on his face.

“Girls, please,” He sighed. “My little Duchess, my precious Princess, what did we talk about?”

“No inappropriate language in the house.” Rena droned, pouting. “But, dad, I was just-”

He held up a finger in front of her mouth. “Now, now, no arguments. You’re going to be late for school if we don’t leave in a few minutes. Your lunches are in the fridge and there’s toast on the counter, you can eat it in the car.”

Rena sighed – though she was mostly annoyed at the thought of school, not their father’s interruption – as Regina smirked victoriously.

“Come on, oh, evil twin of mine, I wanna make it in time to meet Pat before school.”

***

A few hours had passed since morning, and the twins were in their final period – Mr Sanders’ chemistry class. They were sharing a desk at the back of the classroom, and were both paying more attention to scribbling their crushes’ names in their respective notebooks than to the lesson itself, as usual.

“Regina Prince, Rena Prince,” Mr Sanders called, and the girls looked up in unison. “Logan Berry and Dee Ceite, can the four of you please stay behind after class? I have some things I need to talk to you about.”

Dee and Logan were sat at the front of the room: the two girls having been actually paying attention to the lesson. They glanced back at the twins at the announcement, looking them over and the sisters blushed lightly as they made momentary eye contact.

Dee was very traditionally beautiful, with vitiligo covering the left side of her face, heterochromia, long black hair and an elegance about her that Rena found entrancing. She’d been in the same class as the twins since elementary school, and Rena’s crush had existed for just as long, never fading. Logan had perfectly neat hair that went just past chin-length, square glasses and an intelligence that surpassed that of almost everyone else in the school. Regina was almost certainly in love with her.

Rena leant over to whisper in her sister’s ear.  

“Dee looks like such a snack today. I’d let her slit my throat with that eyeliner. I hope she slits my throat with that eyeliner.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Could you be any weirder?” Rena opened her mouth, but Regina interrupted her before she could speak. “Okay, no, it’s you. Of course, you can be weirder.”

The student sitting closest to them gave the twins a weird look, pulling up the hood of his hoodie, before turning back to his work. In Rena’s opinion, he should have been used to this by now, as he’d been sitting near them all year.

Mr Sanders cleared his throat, and the sisters glanced back at him. He raised an eyebrow, before turning back to the power-point.  

“What sounds better?” Regina whispered to her sister. “Regina Berry or Logan Prince?”

Rena hummed in thought, picking at her teeth and flicking a crumb of lipstick to the ground. “Regina Berry,” She decided. “I don’t want people to know we’re related.”

Regina nodded in agreement. “Smart, I don’t want to be associated with you either.”

After a few more words exchanged, they went back to scribbling in their notebooks. Regina had finally decided to make some notes on the lesson they were supposed to be paying attention to, but Rena had instead elected to work on the next chapter of her disgustingly graphic Toy Story 3 fanfiction. It was horrendous, and insanely popular online.

The lesson ended shortly afterwards, and the twins packed up their things, though they stayed in the classroom as their teacher had instructed.  

Regina sat on the edge of her desk, crossing her legs and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. She and Rena had chosen to sit by the window, so she often stared out at the seemingly endless forest at the edge of the school grounds. The thick tree branches created a dense canopy of leaves that her eyes couldn’t breach, and she often found herself wondering what lay beneath them. It was unspoken rule across town that nobody entered the forest – people went missing there, on practically a monthly basis – but she and Rena had often stood at its edges, wondering what adventures lay beyond.

She shifted closer to the window. It had been raining earlier, so there was condensation creeping at the corners. A smile played at the corners of her lips as she pressed her finger to the glass and doodled a heart.

“What do you think Mr Sanders wants?”

Regina jolted in surprise, spinning around and coming face to face with Logan. She was stood beside a grinning Rena, who was making obscene gestures with her fingers that Dee had absolutely noticed by now; she was covering her mouth with a gloved hand as she chuckled. Fortunately, Logan was far too oblivious to notice or understand, saving Regina her last shred of decency. Mr Sanders was nowhere to be seen.  

“No clue!” Rena answered for her, hair bouncing with her constant movement. “What do you think, Dee? Do you think he plans to kill us?”

Dee shrugged. “I doubt he plans to murder us, but we don’t exactly have much in common.”

“Yeah,” Regina agreed, looking around again, brow creased. “Where did Mr Sanders go, anyway? I didn’t see him leave.”

“He said he’d be back in a few minutes.” Logan adjusted her glasses. “He also said there’d be two more students joining us, though he didn’t specify who.”

“Wonder if we did anything wrong?” Rena piped up, moving to sit on a desk, swinging her legs. “I mean, yesterday I switched all the science textbooks with the language textbooks and all the English textbooks with the math ones, but I don’t think that’s it.”

Logan gave her a disbelieving look. “Why?”

“I’m a being of chaos.”

Dee looked like she was trying not to smile, and there was a definite fondness in her eyes as she stared at Rena. She looked like she was about to speak up, when the classroom door opened, and all four girls immediately turned in that direction.

Two girls their age walked in: Patricia Foster and Virginia Picani, better known to their friends as Pat and Virge. They’d been dating since middle school, and, if asked, Regina would definitely call them her OTP; she’d helped them get together after all.

Pat was short and liked to wear her hair in pigtails. Her wrists were always covered in hair-ties, and she mostly wore t-shirts and skirts with a pastel blue colour scheme. Her girlfriend, Virge, was her complete opposite – tall and lanky with short purple hair and a black and purple colour scheme. The pair were holding hands when they walked in, and Pat squealed when she spotted the four crowded around Regina and Rena’s desk.

“Regina!” Pat exclaimed. “Rena! Logan! Dee! My four favourite people!” She paused, before giving her girlfriend a smile. “Apart from you, of course, angel. Oh, and apart from my moms, too! But, other than that you’re my favourite.”

Virge gave a small smile back, squeezing Pat’s hand.

“Patricia, Virge.” Logan pushed her glasses further up her nose. “I assume you’re also here for Mr Sanders? He mentioned there were two more people coming.”

“Yup!” Patricia exclaimed, half-dragging Virge over to the group. “I dunno why we’re here, though.”

“Neither do we,” Dee said. “But he said he’d be back soon. I wonder if we’re in trouble.”

Pat’s expression dropped, her eyes widening. “We’re in trouble?” She squeaked. “I don’t wanna be in trouble! What-”

“I doubt we’re in trouble, Pat.” Virge interrupted, hesitating for a second before pressing a reassuring kiss to the back of her girlfriend’s hand. “You haven’t done anything wrong; all the teachers love you.”

“Aww!” Regina squealed, grinning widely. “You guys are, like, couple goals.”  

She tried not to glance at Logan, she really did, but she failed, of course, and the two made eye contact, before looking away in unison. Her plight was obviously noticeable, as Patricia giggled and Dee snorted. Rena made another obscene gesture that everyone politely ignored, though Pat glanced away uncomfortably.

About a minute passed, and the classroom door swung open again, Mr Sanders finally stepping back inside. There was a large ink stain on his shirt that hadn’t been there before, and he was carrying himself differently. It was… uncomfortable, to say the least.

He smiled – flat and lifeless – as he looked them over, stepping closer.

“Girls, it’s good to see you again.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “It’s only been a few minutes, Sir.”

“Perhaps.”

There was a whole minute of silence following that, and even Rena was fidgeting uncomfortably by the end of it.

“You know what,” Mr Sanders broke the silence, stretching and cracking his back. “I’ve never been very good at this part – I’m not much of an actor – so let’s just get this over with.” And, with that, he unhinged his jaw, and three inky black tentacles shot out from the back of his throat, each coated with spikes.

Regina yanked Logan out of their way just in time, as did Virge with Pat. Dee managed to dodge the third on her own, as Rena was too busy staring at their teacher with curious horror and possibly even minor jealousy to notice.  

Dee grabbed the back of Rena’s jacket, dragging her away from the monster and scrambling closer to the back of the room with the rest of the girls. Their teacher was stood between them and the door, they were cornered.

“What the fuck are you?” Rena asked in slight awe. Dee sighed, moving to grab the shorter girl’s wrist, ready to drag her out of danger again if necessary.

Mr Sanders chuckled darkly, the appendages retreating back down his throat. An ink-like substance dripped from his eyes, ears, mouth and nose, his hair was also coated with it, having been splattered by the ink-covered tentacles.  

“Does it matter?” He said smoothly. “You’re going to die anyway.”

The inky black liquid moved to coat his left arm, turning it into a much larger and much more menacing appendage with a giant claw at the end. It then jolted forward in a burst of speed, stretching inhumanly, snatching up Regina and tugging her towards him. She screamed, naturally, and even the monster winced at the ear-splitting sound.

“There’s no point in struggling.” He held her in place. “There’s no one close enough to hear you.”

His jaw unhinged again, but the black liquid formed hundreds of razor-sharp teeth instead this time, and he used his human arm – which was still abnormally strong – to move her head to the side, baring her neck.

She continued screaming and wriggling, and multiple black limbs had to burst from his chest to keep the other girls from trying to help her. The appendages were sticky like slime, and held the girls to the wall with no room for movement

“You’ll make a delicious meal.” He cackled deviously, moving slowly to savour it, his teeth just inches from her throat.

“No! No, please-” Regina begged, before being suddenly interrupted by a figure bursting through the window and landing at her feet.

It was a second storey window, making it slightly more impressive.

The figure stood up straight, revealing herself to be a woman with a messy ponytail, leather jacket, sunglasses and two large daggers, one in each hand. She used them to quickly slice off the appendages protruding from his chest, freeing the other girls and causing their teacher to writhe, scream and drop Regina.

Logan and Rena grabbed her arms immediately, tugging her back to the slightly safer area.  

“Remy Starlight.” The monster hissed, in a voice that most certainly wasn’t their teacher’s. “We meet again.”

She sighed loudly, irritated, dropping one of the daggers and pulling a large needle full of dark red liquid – blood, perhaps – from her pocket.

“Unfortunately.”

Then, before anyone, even the monster, could react, she plunged the needle into his neck, injecting all of its contents with one swift move, before yanking it out and stuffing it back into one of the pockets of her jeans, looking only mildly inconvenienced.  

The monster screamed in intense pain, falling to his knees, and, a few moments later, gallons of inky black liquid gushed from their teacher’s face – a horrifying sight, honestly, some of it even splashed on the terrified teenagers. It didn’t take long for it to finally finish leaving his body, and Mr Sanders collapsed to the ground, barely conscious. Remy hardly even reacted though, slicing her palm with the dagger she still held, and letting a few drops of blood hit the bubbling pool of ink. It hissed for a few moments, before dissolving entirely, and there were a few moments of silence before she turned to the teenagers, wiping a drop of inky blood from her face with her thumb and giving all six of them a simultaneous gay crisis.

“Are you girls okay?” She asked, picking up the dropped dagger and sheathing both of them, placing a hand on her hip. “None of you were bit, right? ‘Cos that would be, like, super bad.”

Logan was the first to speak up.

“Uh… no? I don’t believe so.”

Remy nodded slowly, humming in thought, before turning to the man on the floor, watching as he began to regain consciousness.

“Jeez, Tommy, I leave you alone for less than a day and you get possessed? That’s not very ‘chosen one’ of you.”

Thomas coughed, stumbling as she helped him up. “I’m not the chosen one, remember? That’s… that’s kinda the point.” His voice was rough, and traces of the inky liquid dripped from the corners of his mouth.

He looked up at his six stunned students, giving them a rather sheepish look.

“I’m sorry for that, girls. That’s not exactly how I wanted to introduce you to this.”  

[quercussp]

Borderline

Rating: E

Word count: 3.7k

Summary:

Dan and Phil Rize Show (August 14th 2018):

D: It’s just because he’s used to having dozens of people having massive gangbangs and doing drugs, while we’re like, let’s play Mario Kart…

P: Speaking of, not gangbangs, but drugs, we went through the border into Canada on a bus…

D: Right, that’s going to be used out of context.

[…]

D: There was a guy from Canada, who was called Chan and he was our border agent.

P: Yeah, Dan loved Chan.

Authors note:

Happy Holidays @judearaya! I hope you like it <3

Written for the prompt: "I'd love something related to Dan's adorable reaction to Chan the customs and border protection officer that Dan and Phil talked about on Rize during II. Any heat level is fine by me, just pls no threesomes or cheating etc."

A gigantic thank you to my betas @templeofshame and @alittledizzy for encouragement and help. You both are absolutely wonderful.

Warnings: graphic sex, mentions of jealousy, teasing mentions of sex outside of the relationship (no actual sex with anyone else)

[read on ao3]

Being shaken awake at 2 am by a grumpy and sleepy Marianne was not a great way to start the morning. Or end the day? Does 2 am even count as morning? Being forced to exit the bus in their pajamas for the border patrol to inspect it in the middle of the night was even less appealing.

From his bunk, Phil could hear Marianne trying to persuade Dan to wake up and the characteristic moaning of “i don’t want to get upppp” that he has heard many times over the years. This tour had really taken a toll on both of them, and being awakened in the middle of the night, cutting the already short sleep time they had was no less than torture.

Phil searched around for his glasses in the dim light of the bus and found them somewhere under his pillow. He slid out of his bunk, put his feet halfway into his trainers, and pulled on a hoodie that was hanging in the kitchen. He stumbled out of the bus to join Martyn and the rest of the crew, all looking as sleepy and tired as he felt.

Dan was the last out of the bus and if Phil weren’t so exhausted, he would probably laugh at Dan’s appearance. His hair was sticking in every direction, he was wearing a pair of boxers, a wrinkled black t-shirt and some fluffy slippers, clutching to his pillow. He waddled off the bus and over to Phil, tripping in the process and grumbling something under his breath about “fucking shit fuck”.

Marianne was talking with one of the border officers, a middle aged lady with a surprisingly geometric haircut and an unsurprisingly tired face. She was flipping through their passports, comparing the photos with the group of people standing huddled outside of the bus and asking Marianne about the details of their trip. Even if he wanted to, Phil could not find the energy to keep track of their conversation. Marianne would deal with it. It’s her job, after all.

Just as the lady was preparing to take their passports inside her booth to get them stamped, another officer walked out and headed towards the group. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a Hollywood face. He was politely smiling at them as he walked towards the bus.

Phil heard an audible gasp next to him and felt a twinge of amusement mixed with annoyance. The man was definitely what he called “Dan’s type”.

“Hello, my name is Chan and I will be conducting a search of your vehicle today.” Of course Chan had a perfectly lovely Canadian accent, a lovely deep voice that came out of his absolutely perfect lips and an annoyingly gorgeous face.

“Chan! Like Dan but with no D… I mean, Dan name… my name, hah..” Dan replied trailing off and letting out a nervous giggle, all while trying to run his fingers through his hair as though to tame them, but accidentally dropping the pillow he was holding in the process.

Phil was not a jealous man. After being together for so long he never actually felt threatened by anyone. Dan was his and he was Dan’s, and that was something that was out of question. And he was not prone to irrational bouts of jealousy like Dan.

So usually when Dan tried to impress someone incredibly attractive, Phil just chuckled . Like the couple times Dan hung out with “the cool YouTubers,” he would make “edgy” jokes and toss his hair and blush adorably when someone said “Cool t-shirt, bro,” but he’d pretend to be totally cool about it. Honestly, Dan was adorable in his awkwardness and his stuttering and nervous laugh in the face of an attractive man would remind Phil of their first couple conversations, back before Dan felt safe enough to be himself with Phil, before Phil had the privilege of seeing Dan unafraid of being judged.

But sometimes, Dan’s fawning over people made Phil sincerely irritated. And it’s not what you’re thinking, it didn’t make him dream of having abs or being a “cool” person. It was just that this version of Dan, this fawny, joking, too cool for school type of Dan felt… like a stranger. And that stranger apparently didn’t think Phil was important enough to pay attention to him.

So Phil felt justified in rolling his eyes at Dan’s reaction to Chan, as Dan was currently trying to pick up the fallen pillow off of the ground while simultaneously pulling the hem of his shirt down to hide his boxers. He also accidentally let out a louder snort than he intended, making the entire group momentarily glance at him, and earning him a very dirty look from Dan.

Shut up said Dan’s eyes, and Phil could see the blush crawling onto Dan’s cheeks.

Chan politely chuckled at Dan’s stuttering, which made Dan get even redder.

“Now,” Chan continued, his expression turning serious. “Before I start the search, please let me know if you have anything illegal in your bus. If you have any drugs on board, please tell me right now.”

For some reason, when Chan was saying the last bit, everyone’s head turned to Phil, as though he was suddenly going to start unpacking bags of heroin from his pajama pockets.

“Why are you looking at me?” Phil said nervously, which turned out to be an incredibly stupid idea, as that seemed to only confirm to Chan that Phil was a drug mule or something.

“I promise I won’t be mad, just tell me if you have any drugs with you.” Chan was now talking directly to Phil.

Before Phil could reply (and probably say something even more stupid), Dan came to his rescue.

“We don’t do drugs, officer. I mean, sir. I mean, Chan.” Dan had managed to pass his pillow to a confused looking Martyn and looked way more awake than 5 minutes ago, his voice now clear (and flirty). “But you’re welcome to search us if you would like.”

Oh my God, Dan. Phil shot him a disgusted look. He kind of wished someone was recording this interaction, as he could probably use it to blackmail Dan into taking out the trash for years.

However, Chan apparently didn’t think that Dan’s line was as horrific as Phil thought, as he glanced at Dan with a smile, eyes traveling up and down his body and his (very much naked) legs, and replied teasingly, “Oh, I definitely will.”

Phil felt another spike of annoyance. Maybe it was the secondhand embarrassment. Or maybe the reason Phil was annoyed was because Dan looked like he just rolled out of bed (which he did), he was sleepy and rumpled looking, and that version of Dan was only for Phil to see. They all could get the polished, designer-clothing-wearing Dan, but Phil was the one who was supposed to see the little crusties in Dan’s eyes and traces of drool on his lips. That was for his eyes only.

Chan shifted his attention back to Phil, for some reason, and continued: “Do you have any firearms? And explosives? Toxic substances? Alcohol or marihuanna?”

At this point, Phil could hear Martyn chuckling from behind him. If Phil was less sleepy and tired, he would probably laugh and make an awkward joke about having Truth Bombs on board, but this version of Phil just wanted this to be over, to go back to his bunk and hopefully persuade Dan to climb in with him so he could put his hands under that stupid t-shirt and feel the smooth skin of Dan’s side. Stupid Chan.

“No, we don’t have anything,” Phil replied, sounding more annoyed than he meant to, but Chan seemed to get the message as he nodded and walked towards the entrance to the bus .

“Can one of you come with me to take a look at the vehicle? Maybe the leader of your band?” Chan asked, looking directly at Dan.

Both Martyn and Marianne let out an audible laugh, but Dan was quick to step forward saying “Sure!”, losing one of his slippers in the process and then blushing even more deeply while strutting over to Chan.

They both stepped on to the bus at the same time, awkwardly bumping into each other and grinning.

“After you,” Dan said with an exaggerated hand motion and bow.

“Thank you!” replied Chan and climbed onto the bus first, with Dan following shortly after.

As soon as they were both gone, Martyn and Marianne exploded with laughter.

“Leader of our band, my ass.” Martyn said, stumbling over his words through his laughter, wiping tears out of his eyes with Dan’s pillow he was still holding.

“Phil, sorry, you’re the backup singer now,” Marianne added, also laughing. “Chan is awfully good looking, isn’t he?” She continued a bit quieter, raising her eyebrows at Phil.

“Maybe he’ll become our groupie,” Phil replied. He meant to say it in a joking way, but for some reason it came out darker than he wanted.

Martyn put a hand on Phil’s shoulder and gave it a firm grip.

“Here bro, you carry your man’s pillow, I’m not his maid.”

And I am? Phil wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut and just grabbed the pillow out of Martyn’s hands.

He wandered off a bit to sit at a nearby bench and put the pillow in his lap, and his head in his hands. He could feel a migraine coming and he desperately needed sleep. Or maybe it was his annoyance that was making him so cross. Either way, at this particular moment Phil felt like he was just over it. The whole thing. The tour, the bus, the travel, the fans. He desperately craved his own bed, his own sheets, the smell of their laundry detergent. And his Dan. Soft and squishy. With a kind smile and big warm hands that he would comb Phil’s hair with when his head hurt.

He almost dozed off at some point, until he heard the unmistakable sound of Dan’s slightly nervous laughter. He looked up to see Dan and Chan coming off the bus, both smiling and excitedly talking about something.

Dan had apparently found the time to put on some trousers (thank God for small miracles) and was nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

Phil pulled together all the energy he had left and stood up to walk towards the group.

“Well, I have to say,” Phil heard Chan tell them, “this is the cleanest band bus I’ve ever inspected.” As Phil walked up, Chan turned to him and smiled (with his annoyingly perfect smile). “No drugs and firearms indeed”.

“I told you we’re boring nerds,” Dan replied, before Phil could even open his mouth.

“Nerds, maybe. But definitely not boring,” Chan said with what Phil could swear was a quick wink and a slight toss of his hair.

“Well, you’re all set, ladies and gentlemen. You can proceed as soon as my colleague returns with your passports. It was nice to meet you all; best of luck on your tour!”

Fuck that man and his stupid hair, Phil thought to himself. But he said, “Thank you, have a good day” instead, and started walking towards the entrance to the bus.

“It was nice meeting you, Chan!” he could hear Dan say behind him.

Phil’s head was really hurting at this point. He climbed onto the bus and made his way to the bunks, rubbing his temples. Throwing Dan’s pillow in the general direction of Dan’s bunk, he climbed into his own bed with a groan and closed his eyes.

Apparently, he actually passed out for a moment, because the next thing he felt was the bus jolting into movement and the rest of the crew walking around the bus and settling back into bed. After a few minutes the curtain to his bunk was pulled aside and Dan sat down at the edge of Phil’s bed.

“Phil, you ok?” he asked. His cheeks were still a bit red, and he was slightly sweaty.

“‘M fine, just tired,” Phil replied, rolling onto his side to make more room for Dan to sit.

They sat quietly for a moment, until Dan whispered: “He was so hot.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile, despite how annoyed he was. “He was? I didn’t notice, Dan. Not with you being totally chill about it and everything”. The dim light of the bus lights was enough to see Dan’s face flush with heat.

“Shut up, Phil, I wasn’t that bad… was I?” he asked after a pause, his voice slightly wavering.

“You did offer to let him search you, Dan, so…”

Dan groaned in response and hid his face in his hands. Even though a part of Phil wanted to continue to tease Dan, he could see that he was genuinely embarrassed. And teasing Dan was no fun if Dan wasn’t also having fun.

“You weren’t that bad, babe. And even if you were, he seemed to like you.” Phil rubbed a soothing hand over Dan’s back. With another groan Dan shifted to lie next to Phil on the bunk, squeezing him all the way against the wall.

“I said ‘nice arms’ when he was picking up the suitcases up,” Dan moaned as he pressed his face into Phil’s neck. “I shouldn’t be allowed to speak, Phil, he probably thought I was a total idiot.”

“He would be right, wouldn’t he?” Phil’s arm ended up around Dan’s waist, and he slid his hand under the t-shirt to feel the warmth of his side .

“Are you mad?” Dan asked uncertainly, raising his face so he could look Phil in the eyes.

“My head hurts,” Phil replied. He knew it wasn’t an answer, but he also didn’t want to admit that he was a bit annoyed. He knew most of it was just tiredness, and he would get over it soon, but Dan felt bad enough as it is.

“You should get some sleep,” Dan whispered, threading his hands through Phil’s hair. Phil couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, we both should.” Dan slowly unfolded himself from the bunk and closed the curtain behind him. Phil could hear him climbing into his own bed and shifting around just above him.

Phil fell asleep almost immediately.

***

They arrived at their hotel in the early hours of the morning. They grabbed their keycards from the reception and started dragging their suitcases to their room.

“Rehearsal in 5 hours guys, don’t forget!” Marianne called after them. 5 hours is fine. Phil could work with 5 hours.

Dan went to shower first, while Phil started unpacking. He was finished gathering the outfit he would wear today for the meet and greet just as Dan got out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, his skin pink and his hair wet. He threw the towel on an armchair in the room and fell onto the bed with a satisfied moan.

“Do you think we have time for a nap?” He asked Phil, who was in the process of shedding his clothing to go shower too.

“Probably. I definitely need one, didn’t sleep much.”

“Me too,” replied Dan with a yawn. “Pass me some pants, will you?”

Phil pushed Dan’s suitcase open with his foot and pulled out a random pair of underwear. He threw it at Dan and went to shower himself.

Phil felt almost human again after a nice long soak in the shower. He came out into the room to see Dan lying comfortably on his stomach on the bed, only in his pants, scrolling through his phone. Dan’s back was arched from holding his torso up on his elbows, and Phil could see the slight movement of Dan’s muscles when he was shifting in his position. His hair had dried into thousands of small curls and the black of his Calvin Kleins brightly contrasted with his pale skin. Phil stood there watching Dan for a bit before climbing onto the bed and squeezing Dan’s butt with both hands, causing Dan to yelp and turn around.

“Keep your hands to yourself, mister,” Dan joked, pulling Phil in close and arranging their bodies so they were lying facing each other.

“Will do no such thing,” Phil replied, continuing to grope his boyfriend’s behind and nuzzling into his neck. Dan’s skin was smooth and warm, and he smelled like his shower gel and also like their apartment a little bit. Or maybe it was the apartment that smelled like Dan. Either way, running his hands over Dan’s body and breathing in his smell, Phil felt as though he was almost home. He ran his hands over Dan’s groin and felt that he was half hard. With a familiar movement, Phil grabbed him through his briefs and started slowly jerking him off.

“You’re hot,” Phil whispered in Dan’s ear, giving his earlobe a little nip.

“And you’re tired,” Dan replied with a chuckle, placing little kisses over Phil’s face.

“I’m not too tired for this,” Phil whispered and firmly pressed his lips against Dan’s. Dan just laughed.

After a bit, Dan pushed himself away to pull off his underwear and rolled on top of Phil. He pressed their naked groins together and started moving his hips slightly, creating some friction. With a slight moan, Phil wrapped one of his arms around Dan’s back, and brushed the other through his hair, pulling him even closer for a kiss. They grinded lazily against each other for a couple minutes, until Dan pushed his hand between them and grabbed their lengths in a practiced motion. He started methodically moving his hand around both of them, with the exact tempo that he knew worked best for both of them. In almost no time, Phil felt himself coming with a gasp, throwing his head back against the pillow and closing his eyes. He felt Dan sit up, positioning himself on Phil’s hips, and Phil heard the sound of Dan wanking himself off.

“Here, let me,” Phil said, reaching towards Dan and pushing his hand out of the way. He grabbed Dan’s dick and moved his hand with the rotating motion he knew would bring Dan off the fastest. Sure enough, just a minute or two later, Dan shuddered and came over Phil’s stomach, already wet from his own cum.

Dan slid off of him and fell back onto the bed with a loud sigh. They both lay next to each other, catching their breath for a bit.

“That was fun.” Dan finally broke the silence, pressing a small kiss to Phil’s shoulder. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah,” Phil breathed out. He felt like he was soaking up the warmth of Dan’s body lying next to him. Dan was sweaty and disheveled, with his dick lying limply to his side and his entire body flushed. He looked open and vulnerable and worn out. He was also stunningly beautiful. And his. Phil was feeling warm and content, and could feel the last bits of annoyance from last night seeping out of his body, leaving him heavy and sleepy. “It’s not like we’re busy every single moment of every day.”

Dan chuckled and kissed Phil’s shoulder again. “We’re almost done. Maybe after the tour we can go crazy and like actually fuck.”

“Now don’t get any wild ideas,” Phil teased, brushing his hand through Dan’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss before lying back down and letting out a contented sigh.

Dan reached for the towel he threw off before and passed it to Phil so he could clean up. They settled under the covers, with Phil’s head lying against Dan shoulders, limbs thrown over each other, just letting their bodies stretch out and rest.

After a bit, Dan spoke out of nowhere. '”Chan said he liked our poster.”

Phil lifted up on his elbows and looked at Dan, and then barked out a laugh.

“Is that what you were thinking about while we were fucking? Chan?”

“What? No! I was just thinking of what I’m gonna wear today and he said he liked… Stop laughing!”

“Did you imagine his perfect muscles while I was jerking you off, Dan? Were you thinking of him the entire time?” Phil couldn’t stop laughing.

Dan poked Phil in the side. “Fuck you, Phil! I wasn’t…”

“Oh, you want Chan to fuck me, Dan? I didn’t know you were into that. Were you dreaming of a gangbang with Chan? Tell me Danny, is that what your most secret desire is?”

“Shut up you idiot, I’m gonna divorce you!”

Phil just continued laughing, pulling Dan close. “It’s ok, Danny, I’m not going to kinkshame you. If you want to play out a fantasy where a patrol agent strip searches you, we can do that. There’s no need to be embarrassed.”

“Phil, actually fuck off.” Dan’s voice was pissed, but Phil could see that he was trying to stop himself from smiling a bit, and his cheeks got very red.

“It’s ok, Dan, I’m not judging.” Phil pressed a kiss to the rosy patch on Dan’s cheek.

“I hate you,” said Dan, rolling away and turning his back to Phil.

Phil just slid behind Dan and draped his arm and leg over his partner, spooning him close. He was still chuckling a bit, and Dan automatically pulled Phil’s arm tighter around him and intertwined their fingers.

“We should set an alarm,” Phil said quietly, feeling like he’s about to drift off.

“Marianne will wake us,” Dan replied. He took a long pause and then said quietly, “You know I don’t want anyone else, right?”

Phil just laughed again. “Dan, don’t be an idiot.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Dan’s neck. “Just a gangbang with Chan the border patrol man.”

“At least I didn’t puke in my mouth,” Dan said teasingly, to which Phil gave him a rough poke in the side.

“I thought we agreed to never speak of that again.”

“Just saying,” Dan’s voice was drifting off. In a matter of minutes they were both asleep.

[alj4890]

Love/Kiss Prompt

(Thomas Hunt x oc*Amanda) with the prompt of a shy kiss as requested by @krsnlove

(Thomas x Amanda) one shot

A/N In this particular AU the two have known each other for quite some time. I decided to turn the tables from another one shot I had where Amanda bought a date with Thomas.

Opera: The Bartered Bride (English subtitles)

@lxaah11​ @alleksa16​ @penguininapinktuxedo​ @blackcoffee85​ @stopforamoment​  @darley1101​ @hopefulmoonobject​  @krsnlove​   @annekebbphotography​   @cora-nova​ @bella-ca​ @hopelessromantic1352​. @sunflowergirl05​ @desiree-0816​ @greywitchyshots​ @lilyofchoices​ @moodyvalentinestories​​ @emceesynonymroll​ @dr-nancy-house​ @aworldoffandoms​ @ab1901​  @lolablackwrites​ @friedherringclodthing​ @flyawayboo​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​. @trappedinfandoms​  @kate-mckenzie​

Masterlist

Goodnight Kiss

Cordonia, seven o'clock at night...

"Are wealthy people that desperate for dates?" Amanda grumbled. "Who thought of this idea?"

"Brooks did." Drake grinned at her surprise. "She thought it would be ironic to have the noble ladies be what was fought over given how Liam was once the prize."

"Oh." She groaned softly. "Still, there has to be better ways to raise funding for the children's hospital."

"Really?" He quirked an eyebrow at her. "When have you ever seen a group of nobles willingly give to this? They want something tangible to show off for their so called philanthropy."

"I don't want to be some trophy for a night." She read over the invitation again. "A date and kiss goodnight." Her nose wrinkled. "What if I'm won by someone I can't stand."

Drake shrugged. "It's one date. You've had your share of bad dates and survived. One night isn't going to kill you."

"We don't know that." She argued in a joking manner. "It might. It would be tragic if I died in the midst of being on the worst date ever. Imagine the epitaph on my tombstone: Here lies Amanda Bridgerton, Duchess of St Orella. Unable to fight against the forces of Fate that forced her to go on a horrific date."

Drake ran his hands over his face. He could only take so much of her overactive imagination. "Have someone as an emergency to bid on you in case someone you hate looks like he is winning."

Hope sparked in her eyes. "Drake, you're brilliant!"

"You know I would help you if i could but..." He trailed off, cheeks flushing, when she grinned.

"I know." She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Besides, I wouldn't want to see what Olivia would do if you bid on anyone but her."

"So who's going to be your safety net?" He asked, changing the subject from his dealings with the Duchess of Lythikos.

Amanda propped her chin on her fist and thought of the men she knew who were both single and had the money to donate. "I need to make a phone call."

She got up from the table and walked further down the lighted patio of the restaurant they were at. Her finger hovered over the contact's number. She hated to ask, but he did say to call him if she ever needed anything.

She took a deep breath and called Thomas.

_______________

California, ten in the morning...

Thomas was finishing his morning laps around the pool when he heard a familiar sound. He recognized the ringtone he had set for Amanda and hurried to answer it.

"Hold on a moment," he set the phone down and quickly dried off. "Sorry about that. How are you?"

"Thomas, I hate to call with the sole purpose being that I need a favor," She sighed, "but I need to ask a rather large one from you."

He sat down in one of the pool chairs. "What is it? Are you in some kind of trouble?"

"Nothing that dire." An embarassed laugh escaped. "I was wondering if in two weeks you could come for a visit and--" she hated doing this, "buy a date with me."

"Buy a date?" He repeated in surprise. He knew the Cordonian nobles had some unusual courtship ideas, but this...

"It's for charity. Riley and Liam are trying to raise more money for a children's research hospital." She nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "I know this is asking a lot from our friendship, but--"

"I'll do it." He stated, not needing time to think about it. "Send me the date and time for this event and I will clear my schedule."

"You're my hero!" She exclaimed. "Thank you for doing this."

"No need to thank me." He quickly responded as he tried not to think about being her knight in shining armor. "I'll let you know what day to expect me."

"Talk to you soon." She said after thanking him again.

Thomas set his phone down and rubbed his chin in thought about this so called date. He attempted to ignore the few stray thoughts about this possibly opening a new path in their relationship. He reclined back in his chair while contemplating what he might actually want.

________________

Cordonia...

She ended the call and returned to the table where Drake sat. "Well at least that is taken care of."

"You called Hunt, didn't you?" Drake asked.

"Yes, I did." She narrowed her eyes at his smirk. "What?"

"You tend to call him with every crisis." He observed.

"He's a close friend." Amanda argued. "I value his counsel and there are many times he makes me feel--" she shut her mouth when Drake leaned forward and pretended to be enraptured with what she was saying. "Oh shut up." She threw her straw wrapper at him.

He waved to their waiter. "I think this calls for a drink."

Drake held up his glass after the waiter brought over two tumblers. "To whoever said you can't buy love," his smirk became more pronounced, "never met a Cordonian."

"Wasn't that a Patrick Dempsey movie?" She clinked her glass with his before focusing in on the last of what he said. "Hold on a minute. We both know that this event isn't going to lead to that for anyone. No matter how much money is spent, it won't lead to love."

Drake shrugged. "Whatever you say." He grinned at the uncertainty on her face and sipped his drink.

__________________

Cordonia, Day of the charity event...

"Sold! Lady Penelope has been won by Lord Ezekiel." Riley banged the gavel down. She looked off to the side of the stage at who was next and smiled. "Next up, we have Lady Amanda, Duchess of St Orella." She motioned for her to step out.

"Beginning of my epitaph." Amanda mumbled to herself as she walked out. She clasped her hands in front of her and tried to focus on anything but the large audience of people looking up at her.

Riley smiled as she began the bids. "Two thousand from Sir Carlisle, do I hear three?"

The bid was near ten thousand when Riley started pointing out Amanda's attributes. The duchess was ready to bid a million on herself to end this charade.

"Fifteen." Thomas called out.

"Fifteen to Mr. Hunt." Riley said, impressed with his jumping in. "Do I hear--"

"Sixteen!" Yelled out an elderly noble who had always made Amanda's skin crawl with how he looked at her.

"Seventeen." Thomas countered.

"Twenty!" The old man leered up at her.

Thomas eyed him with a frown. "Forty."

Amanda's eyes flew to his face. She caught his eye and slightly shook her head. It was getting out of hand. She couldn't let him pay that much for her.

The earl glared at Thomas but kept his mouth closed.

Riley breathed a little easier as she rushed through closing the bid. "Sold to Mr. Hunt!"

Thomas walked over and collected Amanda from the stage steps.

"I'll pay you back." She whispered.

"No need." He whispered back. He placed his arm around her and guided her through the crowd. "Is there a planned date or do we go do what we want?"

"It is planned." Amanda explained. "Dinner and an evening at the opera."

"Are we dressing formally?" He asked.

"Semi, I think." She stopped him once they were out of earshot of anyone. "Thomas, I insist on giving you your money back. You already did so much by coming to help me."

"I don't mind giving to charity." He argued. "And I expect we will have a pleasant evening together. There is nothing to make up for."

"There is one other thing." Amanda looked down and began to blush. "The kiss goodnight."

Thomas stilled. "Kiss goodnight?"

"Riley will have Ana De Luca taking photos of each couple sharing a kiss goodnight. The money spent on the magazine they will be published in will go towards the hospital." She made herself look up to see how he was taking this surprising development.

"I believe we can manage that." Thomas realized he was seeing her in a new light. No. That wasn't it, he argued with himself. He was allowing himself to no longer suppress how he had seen her from the beginning.

Tonight's date might reveal more.

______________

That night...

Amanda walked into the The Four Seasons of Cordonia. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floors as her steps picked up in speed. She nervously smoothed her black dress then brushed the few strands of stray hair that had fallen from her bun.

As she stepped into the hotel's bar, she scanned the room for Thomas. When she didn't see him at any of the tables, her eyes moved along the patrons at the bar.

He was standing there with a drink half way to his lips, staring at her. She softly smiled and lowered her eyes as she walked toward him.

He set his glass down, tossed some money with it, and moved to meet her.

"Good evening." She said, admiring him in his black suit. "Looks like we match tonight."

His lips curved briefly. "You look stunning."

Her teasing smile appeared with a slight blush. "I bet you say that to all the girls you buy."

He chuckled. "Shall we?" Thomas held his arm out to her.

She slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. "Dinner is here at Savršenstvo. I've eaten there a few times." She looked up at him. "It's quite good."

They walked toward the elevators and went to the rooftop restaurant. The royal couple had persuaded the chef and manager to donate the entire place and meals for the couples of the auction. Many of the nobles had already arrived and were either mingling or sitting at one of the tables.

A romantic atmosphere had been set with candlelight at each of the tables. The entire resturant was composed of multiple floor to ceiling windows, offering unparalleled views of Cordonia's capital and the Mediterranean Sea.

"Where would you like to sit?" Thomas asked, placing his arm about her waist.

Amanda nervously nodded toward an empty table set beside a window overlooking the harbor. "That table appears to be unoccupied."

They exchanged pleasantries with some couples as they made their way over.

Thomas held her chair out for her, before sitting down directly across.

A waiter came by and offered them a menu and took their drink order.

Amanda looked out the window as dusk fell. "Thomas, I insist on--"

He knew what she was going to say and decided to change the subject. "What opera are we seeing this evening?"

Amanda's lips twisted in a wry smile. "The Barted Bride. I think Riley has made certain we are all well aware of the theme for tonight's date."

"The only way she could be more obvious was to have held this on Valentine's Day." Thomas remarked drily.

Amanda shuddered. "I suppose that is the silver lining behind the need for more funding. She wasn't allowed to wait on February fourteenth to roll around. I can only imagine what other cheesy bits of forced romance we would have been subjected to."

The two settled into an awkward silence once the first course was placed before them.

Thomas cleared his throat. "This doesn't feel forced." His dark eyes met her hazel. "Not to me."

Amanda's fork clattered on her plate. "What are you saying?"

He reached across the table and took her hand. "I'm saying that we take advantage of the situation and treat it as an actual date." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "We have known each other for a while now."

She looked down at her hand in his. "Yes, we have."

"If we treat this as such instead of pretending we aren't being thrust into romance, then we can see what happens." He squeezed her hand. "If nothing comes from it then we will have a night we can find some humor in when reminiscing."

Amanda took a deep breath. "So we either become a couple or remain friends?"

He nodded. "Would you like to try?"

Amanda searched his eyes for some hidden meaning. "I think I would."

He released her hand as their waiter returned. Romantic piano music began to play as couples were encouraged to dance. Ana Du Luca was on hand with her photographer, ready to capture all the romance of the night.

Thomas stood up and smiled softly as he asked Amanda to dance. She took his hand and followed him toward the open floor. He set his hand at the small of her back while clasping her right hand. They moved slowly in a box step.

"I still want to repay you." Amanda whispered.

Thomas groaned softly. "I'll make a deal with you so that we will not have to speak of this again tonight. If this evening does not lead to a different relationship between us, then I will allow you to split the donation with me."

Amanda's brow furrowed. "And if it does lead to romance?"

He looked down at her, thinking how lovely she looked tonight. "Then it is my donation."

She sighed in resignation.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "I would have insisted on paying for the date anyway."

Amanda laughed softly. "I suppose you're unwilling to negotiate?"

"Your supposition is correct." His lips brushed her ear as he spoke.

She closed her eyes briefly from the flash of longing that came over her from that simple touch. On instinct, she moved closer to him. His arm tightened around her in response, drawing her even closer.

They danced together for another song to simply enjoy being this close to one another.

Thomas noticed their waiter bring their entrees out and reluctantly led Amanda back to their table.

Their easy conversation returned to them. The only noticeable change was the flirting occuring ever so often. Since they now knew the other was on the same page, at least date wise, they could relax somewhat. Both appreciated no mystery or games being played as they slowly explored what could be.

Over dessert, Riley interrupted them.

"I'm here simply as a messenger." She said with a michevious smile. "Since Thomas donated the most, you two will have a private box at tonight's opera." She handed him the tickets and motioned toward their half eaten plates. "Please continue to enjoy yourselves. We will be leaving in half an hour." She paused when turning to leave. "You will also have your own driver for the rest of your date."

Amanda's lips trembled with laughter. "And the other couples?"

Riley let out a giggle. "I think they will all enjoy riding a bus to the opera house and then partaking of the cheap seats."

Amanda shook her head as she watched the queen of her country hurry off to join Liam. "I think I know what will be discussed the most at court for the next few weeks."

"I wonder if any of them has ever been on public transportation." Thomas looked out over the crowd.

"I highly doubt it." She said with a laugh.

His dark eyes met hers. "I'm starting to think I need to express my gratitude to that noble for making me bid the most."

"Oh?" Amanda leaned forward and propped her chin on her hand. "And why is that?"

His lips eased in a smile. "Because I now have you all to myself for the rest of the night."

________________

The opera...

"Have you seen this before?" Thomas whispered.

"I have." She replied. "It has all the elements you should enjoy: love, comedy, despair, misunderstanding, and hope."

He relaxed in the cushioned chair. His hand rested beside Amanda's on the shared armrest. His fingers grazed hers and he suppressed his smile when she lifted her hand up to trap them.

He leaned his head closer to hers. "What is the storyline?"

Amanda motioned toward the couple on the stage. "Mařenka is in love with the mysterious Jeník. Her parents though are meeting with a marriage broker and have decided to marry her off to the wealthy Tobias Micah's son, Vašek."

"And how does Jeník take the news?" He asked.

"He promises to make all right." Amanda whispered. They became silent for a while until Jeník's plan came to light. "He makes a deal with the marriage broker that he will accept money to leave Mařenka alone as long as the contract states she will only marry the son of Tobias Micah."

Thomas narrowed his eyes for a moment. The man had proffessed his undying love and was now so easily accepting a bribe. "Ah, Jeník is Micah's eldest son everyone keeps talking about that disappeared long ago."

Amanda nodded with a smile. "Now he not only has saved an unsuspecting Mařenka but also has money to take care of her."

Thomas remained close to her as they discussed the misunderstnading and heartache Mařenka has when she discovers Jeník sold her for money.

"I don't think passionate love needs so much turmoil to develop." Amanda quietly observed.

"No?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I think it can develop with no more than knowing someone. Having one disaster after another would, at least in my opinion, start to cause doubt that the love is even worth all the heartache." Amanda motioned toward the box that held Liam and Riley. "I know they say their love grew during all the trials they faced together. I honestly don't know if I could have held true and not given up if I had been in their place." She looked down at her hands. "Perhaps, I'm not made for such passion."

Thomas tipped her chin up. "I personally have trouble being secure in a love that comes about from constant turmoil. Emotions run high during trials and can be often exaggerated. What happens after peace has come? There's no more adrenaline rush adding that edge to passion." His fingers brushed her cheek. "I think one can have true passion without all that unnecessary drama."

Her lips curved. "So by just knowing someone..."

"And with a look." His eyes dropped down to her lips. "A simple touch." He inched closer. "All can lead to passion exploding."

The lights came on causing them to jerk apart as the auidience clapped.

"Now for that picture and then we are set free." Amanda whispered, slipping her hand into his as they walked out of their box.

"This reminds me of a school dance." Thomas muttered as they looked over the balcony at Ana lining the couples up for the goodnight kiss photo.

Amanda softly snorted in her laughter. "Yes, it does." She tugged him on down the stairs.

They were the last couple to line up. Together, they quietly watched some of the different kisses being shared. There were a few that only kissed their dates cheeks. One only kissed the back of his lady's hand. Then there were the ones who had no problem displaying a heated kiss.

"Oh my." Amanda mumbled at the site of Penelope wrapping a leg around Ezeikel during their ravenous kiss.

Thomas frowned somewhat at the display. He could feel his own date tremble with nerves. Having a first kiss for a publicity shoot seemed to take away from the significance of the moment.

Before he could suggest that they kiss the other's cheek, Ana had them stand before the grand staircase.

She smiled at them and snapped a few pictures of them together. "Whenever you're ready."

Thomas turned and took Amanda in his arms. He heard her breath catch as her hands landed on his chest. He lowered his head, intent on whispering his plan for a simple kiss, when her lips suddenly met his.

It was a soft, achingly tender kiss that ended quickly. Amanda's face and neck were practically scarlet with shyness and uncertainty.

"Thank you, your grace." Ana smiled at the two. "And you too, Thomas."

Ana turned her back on them to help her fellow photographer pack up their things. Amanda slipped away from Thomas and stepped outside.

She lifted her face to the cool breeze blowing, hoping it eased her blush.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That kiss. She knew it had been a short, simple one. Yet, the rush of feelings...such passion had nearly consumed her.

She felt hands grip her waist just as firm lips landed on hers, coaxing that passionate response to burst forth. She gripped Thomas's jacket before sliding her fingers into his hair.

His mouth slanted over hers as his tongue slipped between her parted lips. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close in his embrace.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes filled with all the emotions he felt with her. He tried to think of how to express his feelings and finally settled on one he knew she would understand.

"We won't be splitting that donation." He watched as her furrowed brow became smooth in understanding and a smile lighted her face.

She lowered her eyes while her smile grew. "I was thinking the same thing."

[fara-a-way]

He stirs from his sleep, amber eyes drifting to the reddish brown hair beside him, the lock of which obsures a dainty sharp nose and fair tanned cheek. He shifts again, feeling the ache on his shoulder to his neck, a foretelling of time that he wasn't as spry as he once was. The room was warm, uncomfortably so. He was more familiar with waking to a cold bed with only the blankets for comfort, and now there was a woman beside him, warm and plump and...

Wait. His mind turns their gears for any indication of familiarity. Last night, he regals to himself the daring legendary feats he had accomplished, the likes of which the world has never heard before (or of which his brothers had never heard from him and deny in abundunce that his tales were true and real). Then he remembers; he remembers nothing.

The figure beside him shifts, her breath turns uneven, and he knew she was awake. The foreigness of the situation compells him to speak first, but the akwardness keeps his lips silent, pressed together in a thin line.

She stirs, slow and softly. Something he expects from a woman, then again, who knows, he'd never bedded one before. The lock of hair shifts, and he finally has a clear visage. She was gorgeuos, his mind supplies. A beautiful young maiden, barely out of her teens, and suddenly he feels so guilty to have done this, what ever it was he did last night.

He felt her jolt to wakefullness, startled by unfamiliarity. Unlike him who chose to be startled in motionless shock, she immediately sits up, taking the meager blanket covering them both.

Opposites, Hades thinks to himself. They were opposites. Somehow he is attracted to her, he wonders if he appeals to her as well.

She was young, and shows a shyness that comes with youth. She had a fierceness in her evergreen eyes- ready for a fight, yet gentle and kind by her soft demeanor. She was fair with sun kissed skin and lusious lips, and her hair glows gold and chestnut brown in the sun light. She was the opposite of him, already old, confident in a way that he knowd he'd achieved something in his life. Cold. Some would even call him frightening. His pale fair skin was complimentary to his dark wavy hair which shows barely any glow to the sun's morning rays streaming through the large window.

Her hand goes to her head, she must be dizzy he thought, he reaches out to steady her, only for her to flinch away from him. He stops, and retracts his hand. For a while they only stare at eachother. Both unsure, confused and both were certaibly awkward.

"This is awkward." She says the thought in his mind.

"Yes. Yes it is." She notices the deepness of his voice and realizes he isn't as young as she thought he was. Last night... she remembers something epic. Something rebelious and and new and adventurous, the likes of which would show her mother's indignation and wrath! And it would be so WORTH IT! Last Night! Last night?

"Excuse me? Uh, who are you?" She asks. Ofcourse, she couldn't remember last night. She was extremely intoxicated...

"You don't remember me?"

"Well, do you remember my name?"

Hades stays silent... "Good point."

So he introduces himself again. "I know this is very unorthodox and incredibly unlike me, but Hi I'm Hades Olympus... and you're beautiful." he adds.

This got a smile from her, and for once Hades thanked Zeus in his mind for sharing some of his pick-up lines.

"Thank you. I'm Persephone Harveys... And my mom's ex used the very same pick-up line with her."

"Oh goodness, that must be quite a story." He says with faux confidence, at the back of his mind, he curses Zeus and his cliche pick-up lines.

"Heck it was crazy. You know, my mom told me to stay away from the guys who uses the very pick-up lines." She says, she gives nothing away with her smile but an up tit

lt curve at the corner that makes her look teasing. This got Hades back-pedaling, trying to save his ass.

"Oh really? Then will it count if I meant it? Not as a pick-up line. You really are beautiful Persophone." He repeats. He earns a blush from her, complexion darker and red, smile softening into something more flustered. He finds he likes her like this, visibly showing her true feelings.

"Well, my mom did say if its a pick-up line, and quite frankly I think you already got me hooked last night." She says more casually, posture relaxing, but still clutching the blanket to cover her parts. Then she thinks again, "Persophone is such a long name. My friends call me Peony."

"I actually don't remember what happened last night." Hades confesses, also finding himself acting casual around her, like he'd known her for eons.

"Me neither. What did we do?"

"I think we were too drunk to have done anything. I think we just took off our clothes and fell asleep." Hades adds. "But we can check..."

"Oh gods no. I'm checking my own parts."

"I was going to say the reception. They should know what happened, or at least the cameras would." Peony blushed redder, and Hades was very amused.

"Uh, yeah, right. That's a good plan." She thought of something important, by the way her eyes widened into plates, she realized she hadn't told her mom where she was. Hell, she didn't even know where she is right now.

"So, where are we?"

"I haven't a clue."

"This isn't your place?" She looked around the grey and white interior. The dark wood floors and the stiff sheets.

"We must be in a hotel." Peony mentions, "I hope you don't mind paying for this date. I'll treat you next time." She says as she gets out of bed, still clutching the sheets. Good thing there was another layer of white linen under the comforter, because that was the only thing covering Hades' nether area.

"I heard a next time. You'll agree to a next time?" He was hopeful of course. She was chill despite the circumstance. He really thinks he has a shot at her.

"Well, I'm not crazy about the gettung drunk scenario, but a date would be fine I guess." She walks to the comfort room, a bit messy with tracks on the floor, and smells all over the room like acid, like puke.

Then she looks at the clothes on the sink and the tub. It was her dress and his pants. His shoes were also on the corner, waterlogged and semi-salvageable. She thinks.

"Hades, I think our clothes are unsaveable."

Hades enters the comfortroom wearing a white robe from the closet. He looks at the clothes in the sink and the tub and blanches. Well, there's an explanation for this, he thinks, but now he'll have to make his assistants get some clothes for him and the girl.

"Well, I'm throwing those away." Hades says as he smoothens his wavy black hair from their tangles. "What's your dress size?" He asks her.

"medium. 8." She finds herself absentmindedly answering as she tries to salvage her clothes. She frowns once she sees the pink stain at the center of the chest.

"Shoe size?" Hades had located his phone and wallet at the table. He thanks his habit of taking them out and setting them somewhere. He was practically on autopilot last night, and he suspects that he was the one who placed everything in the tub and sink. Ofcourse he won't tell her that.

"6.7 or 7... Where are my sandals?" She questions as she searches the room. They weren't found anywhere.

"What did we do last night?" She says outloud.

"We got drunk, puked, danced in the rain and threw your shoes at the paparazzi." Hades had summarized. "I'm afraid its on the net."

"What?!" She pokes her head out of the restroom door, she was already wearing the second robe from the closet.

"There's some good pictures here." Hades comments, "but nothing overly horrific. Your face is also covered, so I doubt anyone will recognize you in all this."

"They stalked you?" Peony makes her way beside him, looking over his arm to see the pictures on Hades' phone.

"It's nothing major. I'll get my assistants to take care of it if you don't want to be seen."

"My mom would kill me if she finds out."

"Ok. I can fix this." Hades call his assistants. Peony doesn't want to intrude, but she over hears little pieces of the conversation as he walks around the room and opens the balcony. Something about telling Paula to delete the photos of last night and making Patricia bring them clothes, a complete set for him and a set for her with her sizes. Then to look from his creditcard where the heck they were, or use the GPS on his phone or something.

Honestly, she was curious. Who is this guy?

----

[artificialqueens]

Searching, Waiting, Looking -Ch02- (Trixya) - Pichitinha

A/N: it took me 84 years but I’m back with a second chapter. This is as cliche as the first one, a little bit longer and overall gay. It’s also on AO3 and I’m here on tumblr as @pichitinha

Chapter 2 - We’re all patiently impatient

Trixie makes absolutely sure that she’ll be at least fifteen minutes early to their agreed coffee meeting because the first time she’d met Katya had been the first time she’d been late to anything in ages and she already hates that that’s the first impression she caused. Granted, Katya hardly looks like the type of person that would hold it against her, but that was a fluke, it’s not who she is, and it’s important for her that Katya knows that. So she’ll be her usual Trixie early, ready for anything with her entire schedule planned out for her - both in her brain and in her little planning book where her whole life is stored, really - and wait for Katya if she has to. She doesn’t mind waiting, she’s used to it, but she wants Katya to know what kind of professional - what kind of person - she is.

As she’s crossing the street to the little café they agreed to meet at, though, she can see Katya turning the corner and arriving at the same time. Maybe she also likes to be early to everything. That’s a quality Trixie loves in people, especially those she has to work with, so she hopes it’s true. Katya looks serene, a bit lost in her thoughts, and it tugs a smile to Trixie’s face.

“Katya, hey!” She waves as she’s crossing once she and Katya are close enough that she doesn’t have to shout. Her outfit today is more tasteful - well, it’s less horrific, more normal and fitting for an afternoon out in a coffee shop, but the pattern is still troublesome and Trixie’s really curious as to how she always makes her looks work when they’re actually are super ugly. Maybe she’s just really naturally pretty.

“Oh, hey! You’re early.” Katya hugs her quickly, more of a squeeze with one arm than an embrace, and Trixie can faintly gather the smell of her shampoo, something light and breezy that she can’t really place but that makes Trixie think of dandelions flying in slow motion and that somehow matches the way Katya’s hair dances in the light wind that’s hitting them on the sidewalk. It’s poetic, almost, and it widens her smile a little.

“I usually am, yesterday was a complete rare event, I swear.” Trixie feels the need to explain herself, for some reason she really wants Katya to be assured of her personal qualities.

Katya merely raises both her hands as if in surrender. “Hey, I’m not the time police. It’s fine. Let’s go in, I really need a coffee.”

They find an empty square table at the back of the café where the light isn’t great - which explains why most of the students in the place are crowded at the tables at the entrance where the sun is peeking through the window - but it’s quiet and there’s space to spread sheets on the surface and it’s not on the way to anything so there shouldn’t be people walking by. Katya orders a black coffee, Trixie sticks with a tea, and soon they’re seated in silence and Trixie wonders where the hell one starts planning a wedding.

(She’d googled it, of course, for hours the previous night. She’s still lost, though. She has no idea what she’s doing. But she’s doing it anyway.)

“So,” Katya looks just as lost as she is, but she’s still very joyful. “How about we play a bit at our actual jobs of pressing a button in a camera and throwing flowers around in a room before we dive into, you know, planning an entire wedding from beginning to end with zero experience?” She places both her elbows at the table as she speaks, rests her head on her hands and opens a very large but clearly dry smile as she finishes her sentence, and Trixie can’t help the laugh - or rather scream, as her friends have complained she does - that escapes her throat. She looks very cute like that, younger somehow with the two pigtails she has adorning her face, and Trixie can see in the hollows of her cheeks the coat of foundation she’s wearing.

“Yeah, ok, that’d be good.” She smiles and settles comfortably into her chair. Katya is as easy to talk to as Sasha had mentioned. “I do more than throw flowers around a room though, sometimes there are ribbons.”

“Oh my, how could I forget the ribbons!”

They laugh together and both start digging papers and photos out of their portfolio bags. They turn to each other, each with a huge stack of things at hand, and both giggle again.

“You go,” Trixie offers, settles her things on the empty chair next to her and watches as Katya spreads a few simple wedding pictures on the table.

Trixie’s barely glanced at them but her jaw drops immediately.

“Ok, so these are some weddings I did where the theme was like fall, which is kinda boring if you ask me, but anyway. So each was with a different decorator and idea, of course, but this is a type of photo I always like to get with the couple no matter what type of wedding it is and I think it translates well, no matter what’s going on around them. What do you think?”

Katya has her eyes on the photos as she speaks, her eyes fidgeting over them as if she is nervous, but now as she asks Trixie the question she can feel her eyes on her, questioning. She doesn’t look at them, though, can’t tear her own eyes away from the raw emotion that’s displayed on the photographs on the table. The scenery is different for all of them, the colors matching in the pastel and hazel fall setting but different in every other aspect, and the poses each couple is in also differs - there’s a man and a woman locked on an embrace, their faces almost touching but their eyes closed, expression serene, and there’s one with two men, one hugging the other from behind with his head buried on his neck, their eyes also closed and happy little smiles, and the others all follow the embrace and eyes closed pattern, but in different ways, different expressions, different everything.

Except for the feeling. Trixie isn’t sure how she does that - how she gets the couple to portray exactly what she has in mind, even - but she feels pure and unadulterated contentment when looking at each and every one of them. She feels calm, in peace, and a little bit in love herself - with what she doesn’t know, but she feels it.

Sasha wasn’t lying when she praised Katya’s work. She has no words.

“I… these are phenomenal, Katya. Like, truly magnificent.”

“Oh, please.” Katya waves her hand, makes light of the situation, but a quick glance is enough for Trixie to notice the faint blush on her cheeks. It’s adorable, really.

“I’m serious, there’s so much emotion in these. How do you do that?”

Katya shrugs sheepishly, lets her fingers roam the pictures as if she’s reminiscing.. “I don’t know. I just… that’s why I became a photographer, you know? It was never about photographing something but rather what that photograph would mean. Does that make sense?”

Weirdly, it makes all the sense in the world to Trixie. That’s why she never sold herself as a wedding decorator per se but ended up doing those almost exclusively. She doesn’t know the couples, doesn’t follow their lives afterwards to know if it worked of if they got divorced the week after, but there’s just something when she’s decorating a room for a wedding, when she knows that the day will be important, even if briefly, even if only then, that the people in there will be at their happiest for a couple of hours at least, it just severely beats down decorating a room for a company fifteen year anniversary.

“It does.” Trixie sighs. “It really does.”

*

They spend another half hour looking over Katya’s pictures, Trixie’s intent on analyzing every single one carefully resulting in several minutes spent in every set of new photos that Katya displays. Trixie can’t help it, really, she’s beyond amazed with Katya’s talent. And she doesn’t seem bothered, on contrary, seems flattered and even a bit embarrassed at Trixie’s clear awe when looking at the pictures. She keeps pointing out details, describing what feelings she gets from each, and every time Katya seems a bit surprised at how well Trixie reads what she meant to show. Trixie’s proud of herself, if she’s honest.

“We make a great pair,” Katya mentions lightly at yet another one of Trixie’s observations, this time on the last set of photos she has to show, and Trixie feels the corners of her lips tugging into a grin before she can even process it. The words sound nice.

“I’m not saying we don’t, but your pictures are so clear. You’re really talented, anyone would get what your goals are.”

Katya shakes her head, but doesn’t let her smile disappear completely. She looks so pleased and Trixie’s a little pleased with her own self for it. “You’d be surprised.”

Trixie can’t picture anyone looking at what she just looked and not being completely awestruck. Katya’s talent is clear in every colors she uses and to think that people might not see that is mindblowing. “Some people are really dumb.”

“Ugh, stop with the complimenting already, it’s gross!” Katya swats Trixie’s hands away as she jokes, her eyes shining as she gathers her things to put them back in her bag. Trixie laughs at the cute grump face she makes and moves to get her own pictures. Katya seems absurdly interested. “Yes, show me your talents now.”

“Before you see anything you should know that I have unfortunately never had a photographer that could capture my ideas as I wanted them to be captured so don’t judge me too hard.”

Trixie isn’t usually shy about her work - she’s a good decorator and she knows it - but now that it’s her time to share her work her brain is haunting her with everything Katya just showed her - beautiful, amazing works of art -, and it’s hard not to feel overwhelmed.

Katya merely looks at her like she’s grown an extra head. “Uh, I’m a photographer? I’ll be able to tell that the photographer did a bad job, don’t worry.”

Trixie’s heart swells with her plain confidence that whatever she sees will be the photographer’s fault, and Trixie hopes briefly that she’s right, that none of the photos she brought - although chosen very carefully to share her talent - have any of her mediocre decorations, where the time was too little, or the theme too strict, or the couple too unhelping.

Trixie starts with her outdoor wedding photos, knows it’s a bit irrelevant given Shea and Sasha actually have a closed hall, but she loves them and their simplicity and the fact that her decorations have to match the existing nature; and she really wants Katya to see what she’s capable of - what she knows she’s capable of. After what she’s seen of Katya’s work, she wants her to think she’s a worthy partner. She knows she is, she just needs to prove it.

Katya grabs the first one off the table and puts it weirdly close to her face, her eyes squinting and roaming through the entirety of the picture, searching. Trixie is oddly uncomfortable, loves the wedding she’s currently scrutinizing and really hopes she doesn’t hate it because if she does, Trixie doesn’t think she’ll have anything else better to save herself.

“That was such a poor choice of lightning for this photo. They totally missed how a color gradient could have formed with the flowers and the sunset in the back.”

Katya moves to show her, places her finger on the middle of the frame where the intersection between the flowers and the sky is, but Trixie doesn’t look, she doesn’t have to. She had placed those flowers there strategically, had known that the sun setting in the back would create the perfect colors to follow the line of the flowers if taken from the right angle from the ground at the beginning of the carpet. She’d told the photographer that, several times, up until the point he had outright told her he went to school for this and she didn’t. He never did take the picture she wanted, never immortalized the image she envisioned, and the crappy photo she took on her personal phone is the only proof she has of that.

Now Katya’s pointing that out, after maybe staring at the picture for thirty seconds, and she seems sad at the missed opportunity. Trixie’s heart aches for a moment, because that’s a particular event she’s never really forgotten, was never able to replicate again, and she’s part sad by the confirmation that what she wanted was indeed possible, but mostly happy because Katya gets it. She wasn’t there, she didn’t see it, but she gets it.

“Trixie?” Katya asks with arched eyebrows and Trixie notices she’s been staring at her the whole time, mouth probably agape.

“Sorry, I just- hold on.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and frantically looks for the picture she took that day. She had an older phone, then, but she’s saved it through all the months and always has it in her gallery. “Bare in mind that I am not a photographer and this was taken with an old iPhone, ok?”

Katya nods even though she seems lost, and takes Trixie’s phone.

“Oh!” Katya stares at the phone for several long seconds, and then the right side of her lips tugs into a cute side smile, content. Trixie’s heart soars. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. That was wicked smart, Trixie.”

Trixie can feel herself blushing, readjusts a bit on her chair as she feels warmth spreading all over her face and chest in pride. She never realized how much she wanted to be recognized for that feature that’d been gone unnoticed. “Thanks. I’ll never forgive the photographer for not capturing it.”

Katya nods in agreement, eyes still on the crappy picture on her phone. “It truly is a shame. Maybe next time you do something like this you can invite me to take pictures?”

“Yes!” Trixie finds herself nodding before Katya has even finished speaking, her reply perhaps more enthusiastic than necessary. “I think you’re right, we make a great pair.”

Katya finally gives her back the phone, stares at her again like her entire focus and attention are on Trixie and she can practically feel the weight of it. “We do.”

*

“Ok, so that’s basically it, right?” Katya asks staring up and down the page on her notepad where she and Trixie made a list of everything they have to do for the wedding - well, everything they think they have to do. They looked at several websites and discussed each item to see its real relevance and added a few of their own - are there oddly specific photography and decoration items? Yes - and currently they have an entire written page consisting of no less than seventy-four items.

“Basically,” Trixie snorts. “Yeah, I guess that’s basically it.”

Katya smiles and gives a little laugh, puts down the notebook with a sigh as she leans back on her chair and stretches. Trixie can see a tiny part of her stomach, then, and it’s lighter than her arms but tanner than her face and it’s fully toned. She averts her gaze when Katya speaks again, “So where do we start?”

“By moving to Mexico and pretending we never agreed to any of this?”

Katya’s laugh is loud this time and it fills the entire room and it is undeniably adorable. Trixie can’t help but smile in return. “Good plan,” Katya replies when she manages to stop, leans on the table still completely focused on Trixie. She hasn’t stopped smiling yet. Trixie wouldn’t ever stop smiling if she had her teeth, she thinks.

“I don’t know, there are definitely lots of things to do and we don’t even know the date they’ll get yet. Which, of course, is number one on the list. We don’t have a lot to work on right now.”

“Let’s discuss the couple then, maybe we’ll get some ideas. Tell me about you and Shea, how long have you known each other?”

Trixie feels her smile dropping for a second before she puts it right back on. She loves Shea, she’s been her best friend for years, but she doesn’t like discussing their friendship, especially with someone she just met, no matter how fast and easily they hit it off, even if they’re someone who knows and loves Shea as well.

“I met Shea back when we both still lived in Chicago. When I decided to move there from Milwaukee my friend Kim told me she had a spare room that she and her roommate needed to rent, so there I went. Her roommate was Shea and we became friends very fast. The three of us were inseparable.”

Katya raises her eyebrows, seems weary. “What happened to the third friend?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She still lives in Chicago so we don’t see each other all that much. But we talk everyday, I’m sure she’ll be the maid of honor.”

Trixie stops talking then, feels like she’s given pretty much all of the important details - what else could she say? Katya is still looking at her like she expects more though, and there’s a few uncomfortable silent seconds where neither says anything and both look uncertain.

But Katya recovers quickly, clears her throat and takes it upon herself to share. “So, I’m Russian.”

“Oh?” Trixie isn’t sure where she’s going with this, but she’s glad for the change of subject.

“Yeah. I mean, technically. I was born there but my parents moved to Boston soon after that. But anyway, I met Sasha in Russian 101 in college.”

“Why would you take Russian? Why would Sasha take Russian?”

“She didn’t, she was the TA. I did because I figured it would be an easy A. It was, but that’s neither here nor there.” She makes a dismissive motion with her hand and Trixie laughs at her sly grin.

“You cheated, you mean.”

“They never said a fluent person couldn’t take the entire language curriculum. French and Russian awarded me with an honors degree, thank you very much.”

“Cheating,” Trixie insists.

“Loophole,” Katya replies, a giggly sound marking her sentence. Trixie giggles with her. “But, anyway, we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Was she stupid smart at school, too?” Trixie asks, has always wondered what Sasha was like in college. If she was anything like she pictures, effortlessly good at everything and often praised, Trixie thinks she would have been impossibly jealous had they studied together.

“I don’t think Sasha knows how to be anything other than stupid smart, honestly.”

Trixie chuckles, nods for lack of what to do. “Yeah, I figured.”

There are a few seconds of silence in which they each finish their now cold beverages and Katya takes the opportunity to change her expression to completely serious for the first time.

“Do you… hm, do you like Sasha? Like as a partner for your best friend?”

Trixie feels her jaw dropping instantly, sits up straighter at the shock of the words - or rather her tone. She sounds convinced the answer is actually no. Granted, Trixie has several unresolved personal issues that may or may not have a side effect on how she thinks of Sasha sometimes, but at the end of the day Sasha has been a constant presence in her life for the past three years and she’s been a really good friend and a perfect match for Shea. Trixie genuinely loves her and she really hopes that she doesn’t give off the wrong vibe.

“Oh my god, yes! I adore her. Did she say something? Does she think I don’t?”

“No, no, no! Sorry, Sasha likes you a lot. You just made a face, just now. I thought… I misinterpreted, sorry.”

“Oh.” Trixie doesn’t know how to explain it. She can’t find the proper words when she herself isn’t sure yet of why she sometimes feels the way she does. So she takes the easy road. “Single’s jealousy, I guess.”

“A wedding decorator who wants to get married? Groundbreaking.”

Trixie scream laughs again, swats Katya’s arm lightly. “Shut up!”

*

“So, is she mad as a hatter or what?”

Trixie and Shea are seated as comfortably as it’s possible on Shea’s ridiculously old couch, the one she’s been saying for over a year she was going to replace and now she won’t because she and Sasha will buy a new one when they move in together after the wedding. They each have a box of chinese food and they are halfway through them when Shea asks about her meeting with Katya.

“She most definitely is. We actually hit it off pretty well.”

“You did?” She raises her eyebrows, seems surprised at that.

“Yeah? Why? I wouldn’t peg her as someone difficult.”

“Oh, she isn’t. I’m surprised by you.”

Trixie kicks her on the shin as she scream laughs. “You bitch!”

Shea laughs out loud, throws her head back for good measure, and Trixie cuckles to herself. She wonders briefly how it’ll be between them once Shea gets married. She wonders if the next however many months they’ll have before the wedding will be like a countdown of last moments like this. The thought leaves a lump on her throat and she tries really hard to force it down with her wine.

“I’m kidding, I’m glad you hit it off. She’s a good friend to have, she’s the most selfless person you’ll ever meet and I’m marrying Sasha.”

“Wow. Is it a Russian thing? It doesn’t sound Russian. She’s as selfless as a Russian. Nah.”

Shea smiles mischievously and places her empty container on the table, picks up her glass of wine. “Wow, you already know she’s Russian? It took me three months.”

Trixie rolls her eyes, is not surprised at all by Shea’s comment and has no doubt about where she’s going: there’s nothing Shea likes more than trying to set Trixie up. Anyone, anytime, anywhere.

“We were discussing how we met you guys. Because we’re planning your wedding. We’re business partners.”

“Sounds kinky.”

Trixie gets up then, fake exasperation. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m joking!” Shea laughs and moves to grab Trixie’s arm, pulls her back to sit on the couch. “She’s a catch though, if you’re interested. And she’s gay.”

“Much better than last time when you tried to set me up with your straight coworker, I’ll give you that.”

“She’s not straight, she’s pressured by society’s heteronormativity and she’ll realize that soon enough, give it a year!”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Ok,ok!” She surrenders with a motion of her arms, light smile on her lips. “Tell me about my wedding then. Did you plan it all already? Can we do it this Saturday?”

“Yep, in fact we have already reserved the dumpster down the street.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. How-” Shea stops talking when her phone lights up on the coffee table, Sasha’s name and photo on the screen. “Uh, sorry.”

Trixie dismisses her. “Go ahead.”

Shea gets up to answer the phone on the other room and Trixie takes these few minutes to breathe. She finishes her wine, makes the last sip turn to three as she stares at the apartment that Shea’s lived in since she moved to California a few months after Trixie. It’s familiar to her, like in sitcoms where it’s always the apartment of one of the friends that becomes the point. Kim always stays there when she’s visiting and so does Trannika even if she visits less. Pearl is there constantly and she always has Violet with her and no one is sure why they go to Shea’s place when it’s the furthest and not the biggest, but it’s their thing now, she guesses.

She doesn’t want to be that friend, the best friend in the Bridesmaids movie that gets jealous and bitter and ruins everything because she can’t get a hold of her emotions, but it’s hard when it feels like the last solid thing she’s managed to maintain is going to fall apart. Shea’s friendship is the one thing she managed to keep after all the turmoils in her life - leaving her family in Wisconsin, leaving her friends in Chicago, leaving a string of relationships that she wasn’t able to save everywhere she went. All her friends are married or in a relationship or some even happily single and Trixie still struggles with the ghosts of all her past girlfriends haunting her. She’s not old but she is getting older, and she hates the feeling that she’s stuck while everyone else passes her by. While life passes her by.

She gets up from the couch and grabs all the boxes and dishes to clean the place a little bit, tries to ground herself to the reality of the now and to convince herself that she’s overreacting and things will be fine. Kim lives almost on the other side of the country and their friendship is still one of the strongest bonds Trixie has. She’ll be fine with Shea having a wife. A wife that Trixie knows and likes and is friends with.

Shea is happy and that’s all that matters. It is.

“So Katya thinks you’re ‘one of the most talented people I’ve ever met’, quote, and seems very infatuated by you, says Sasha.” Shea says when she enters the kitchen and finds Trixie pouring herself some more wine, leaving just enough on the bottle for Shea to get half a glass.

“Sasha did not say that.”

“Ok, that’s my interpretation of what Sasha said.”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “You can’t expect me to date every single person you’ve ever met, Shea.”

“I wouldn’t keep trying if you dated one! You’ve been single for like five hundred years, Trixie, you gotta get out there!”

“It’s been like less than a year.”

“Potato, potahto. But anyway, she seemed really impressed with your work, Sasha says she’s looking forward to working with you.”

There’s still some sort of innuendo in Shea’s voice, but Trixie ignores it in lieu of the compliment, smiles despite herself. She can’t help the giddy feeling in her chest at the praise. She loves what she does and she loved Katya’s work and she doesn’t necessarily need validation but she loves that she got it, especially from her. “Me too! Her photos were mindblowing, she’s amazing. Your wedding’s gonna be, like, the best wedding ever made.”

Shea smiles back, seems happy at the prospect, but then she sighs a little. “I know that you’ll be the best decorator in the seven realms and that my wedding is gonna be the most beautiful in all of the lands, but I’m still sad you won’t be my maid of honor.”

Trixie sips on her wine at that, tries to find the right words to reply.

She’s sad too. But it’s better this way.

“You’ll forget about that as soon as you see how magnificent the hall will look.”

“I can’t wait. We’ve decided on a date, by the way. It’ll be in six months.”

“Oh.” Trixie’s not sure how to respond. Six months isn’t that close but she kind of thought they might wait for another year or so. “Already?”

“I know it’s a bit tight for the planning, but you know we don’t want anything too big, right? We’ll make it work, don’t worry.”

Trixie nods, smiles a bit as she pours a tiny bit more wine. The planning. Right. That’s why she’s surprised, because the closer it is the less time she has to plan.

“Of course we will, I’m amazing at what I do.”

“You are a conceited little country gal, that’s what you are.”

Trixie shrugs and grins into her glass. Her insecurities be damned, she’ll focus on the now. “Maybe.”

[adacarisi]

ooh could you write a barba fic where the reader has to testify for something and he helps her through it/gets really angry when the defense attacks her?? then angry sex?? smthn like that (:

Another two parter, there is smut in this one though, the next one will also have smut and the courtroom scene. I hope you all enjoy! Thank you for requesting such creative things, they’re a pleasure to write. 

The stand. You’d never liked it. Though you had practiced your testimony with ADA Barba multiple times you still felt nervous. You weren’t sure what exactly was making you so anxious, but you knew part of it was him. His gaze was intense and piercing, his eyes rarely left you as you rehearsed over and over. His posture was confident and sure, his shoulders broad and his chest wide. 

You found yourself daydreaming of what it must be like to run your hand over his suit jacket, to feel the warmth of his body against the skin of your palm. 

“And at anytime during discovery did you leave the scene?” His voice did little to silence your fantasies, rather it made you wonder what words he would speak as you did unspeakable things to him.

“Miss. Y/L/N.” 

You shook yourself to attention when you realized he was addressing you and you were expected to speak back. 

“Sorry…yes…I mean no, no I did not leave the scene.” You spoke, your breathing a little out of wack and rhythm of response a little off. 

“Do you need to take a break?” He asked furrowing his brow in slight confusion and concern.

“No…I’m fine. Thank you.”

Rafael Barba nodded slightly and gave you a flash of a smile before resuming your rehearsal. Back and forth, he asked, you responded. With every question you noticed something new, somehow sexier than your previous discovery. God his hands, you could see his pulse throb through them as he leaned against the stand, pretending to face the jury while he asked you to describe the eyewitness accounts of the assailant. 

You had only been working for SVU for a few weeks. And of course your first major case had been a near catastrophic disaster. Someone (most likely the serial rapist Gregory O’Mally) had lit the records room on fire in the basement of city hall, destroying thousands of files and documents. The fire would have destroyed the incriminating papers and photos you needed to charge Gregory O’Mally but as luck would have it, you had checked out the documents only thirty minutes before the first flames flickered. O’Mally had committed a horrific series of violent rapes, killing two of the victims only after posing them in lewd positions symbolizing the seven deadly sins. 

It was a big case.

Now you were being called to testify for the first time on a case you had worked so intimately. So much was your responsibility, you couldn’t afford to get anything wrong. 

Again and again, he prepped you, and after an hour had passed you wondered if he spent this long prepping all of his witnesses. He had taken off his suit jacket and was striding slowly back and forth between one of the counsel tables and the stand. His pants fit him perfectly, they might have even been on the tight side. You thought you could see a hint of the outline of his briefs and you wondered how tight those were, and what all they contained. 

What was wrong with you? You were a detective in the Special Victims Unit, and yet you were sitting here objectifying and fantasizing about your ADA’s tight ass as it flexed in synch with his pace.  

When he announced that it was over, and you were sufficiently prepped you sighed both in relief that you could leave the stand, and in dissatisfaction that you wouldn’t be able to gaze at him lecherously any longer. You walked to where you had laid your coat on the separation bannister and sighed once more, wondering if you would ever be lucky enough to spend time alone with him again.

“Would you mind answering one more question?” Barba’s voice was suddenly much closer and you turned quickly to see him stood only a few inches away. 

“Oh…no, sure…what is it?” You spoke your voice slightly shaky at his proximity. 

“Do I have something on my pants?” Barba couldn’t hide his slight smirk as it ate it’s way into his face, pushing away the frown lines that often resided there.

“No. I don’t…I don’t think so no.” You gave his pants a flashed glance, so fast your eyelashes never stopped their motion.

Rafael smirked even wider and took a deep inhale through his nose. 

“Coffee?” He spoke, and you were suddenly and inappropriately reminded of Donald Trump’s “covfefe” tweet.

You snickered softly and instantly regretted it when you saw the hurt fill his eyes though no other part of his face let on to the effect of your words.

“Yes! Please. I’m sorry, I just…yes, I’d love that.” You corrected reaching a hand to rest on the Italian wool covered muscle of his forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you spoke.

“Would you mind if we dropped a few things off at my office first?” His smile returned and you lit up at it’s pleasant curves.

“Not at all. Where are we going after?”

“Don’t you trust me Detective?” 

“Seeing as I’ve never seen you without a cup of coffee in your hand, except for today, I definitely trust your taste in coffee. Otherwise I’m not so sure.” You teased as you helped him gather a few of his files as well as his briefcase. 

“Hmmm…we’ll have to change that won’t we. Trust is very important between counsel and their witnesses.” You both pushed open separate doors to exit the courthouse reuniting closely to descend the large white steps. 

The two of you didn’t go far for your caffeine fix, he took you to a little coffee shop tucked away in between some department stores. You told him what kind of coffee you enjoy and he ordered for you both seeing as he knew the menu better than anyone in Manhattan. 

You both sat and sipped at your coffee when it arrived. You were right to trust his taste in coffee, it was delicious. He asked you a few mundane things, and both of you exchanged college experiences, his being surprisingly funny. 

Rafael Barba was still holding back, but he found himself physically leaning into the conversations as he memorized every fact you revealed about yourself. Since you had started at SVU he had been more than a little attracted to you. It had reached a level of dire lust on a few nights and he had found himself rock hard at just the thought of you. He felt like a teenage boy, he wanted you so desperately but he almost didn’t trust himself to pursue you, that was until he caught you staring at his ass today while biting your bottom lip.

Rafael figured he would ask you to dinner after the trial, despite his own fears that you would reject him or that he would be chastised and lose his job. But that seemed too far away as he watched you tell a story using both of your hands to emphasize a point, too far away. He wanted more of this, he wanted to watch your eyes light up with excitement, hear your little giggles and laughs, to see your smile every time he spoke. He loved how attentively you watched him. Your eyes were always on him though there were many distractions. 

Rafael tried harder to make you laugh and he succeeded, nearly making you spit out your coffee. He began another story in which he accidentally brought up his abuelita and he almost began to cry. You noticed the twitches and sniffs and reached a hand across to him, laying your palm on his knuckles softly. You could feel each vein as it pushed against his skin and subconsciously you began tracing them as he continued to speak though his body was frozen. 

He was frozen at your touch, fearful of moving, thinking that if he moved you would move too and he would lose this connection. 

A few minutes later he rotated his hand and you let yours fall into his upturned palm. You spread your fingertips along his palm, lightly dragging your nails on his skin. You didn’t want to think, you just wanted to feel. As he spoke he cleared his throat a few times while you pressed your thumb down in a massage, soothing the sore muscles and ligaments in his massive hand. 

Rafael Barba was in trouble. What you didn’t know was that each motion you made on his palm, each stroke and rub caused his cock to twitch and swell. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop you, it all felt too good. Soon his condition was such that he wouldn’t be able to hide it when he stood and he felt his mind berate him loudly over and over. 

You suggested that the pair of you return to his office to continue to prep, expressing a desire to rehearse a particular portion of the questioning. He agreed and asked you to return the ceramic coffee cups to the counter, pointing to where they could be placed. He briefly mourned the loss of your hand in his, but was struck by more important matters almost instantly. Luckily for him he had worn a lose and long coat today so he would be able to hide his arousal as long as he kept it on and fastened. 

You took his hand as you walked and he smiled with a light blush that you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been so consumed by his every motion. You only dropped your grip outside his office figuring that since whatever this was wasn’t defined by either of you yet, it would be better if neither of you had to explain it to someone else. 

In his office you removed your coat and hung it up, extending a hand towards him so you could hang his as well. He mumbled something about being cold and you gave him a quizzical look as he shuffled towards his desk. Once he was behind it he removed his coat in a very awkward manner that he tried to smooth over by asking you the questions he expected the defense to cross you with. 

You took a seat across from him and answered each with totally honesty and poise. You noticed how he squirmed and coughed, his face reddening as he tried to avoid looking at you. 

“Are you okay?” You asked leaning towards him in concern. 

“Yes.” He answered curtly rolling his eyes slightly, pulling his stomach flush against the wood of his desk.

“Because you look kind of…feverish.” 

“And where did you get your medical degree Dr. Y/L/N?”

“Okay…okay…” You raised your hands in defeat sitting back in your chair as he continued to squirm. 

Just then Carmen his paralegal and secretary walked in with a clipboard full of documents that needed Barba’s signature. He shifted closer to his desk as you made small talk with her, complimenting her dress and ring. She was engaged and had already scheduled a weekend off for her wedding. Carmen left only after telling Barba to leave the clipboard on her desk and that she would send each document out first thing in the morning. It was remarkable how respectful she was while giving him orders. 

As Barba was writing he accidentally scooted the clipboard to far onto his desk and his name plate began to tilt off the edge. You both went for it at the same time, but you became distracted by what you saw when he made a halfway lunge out of his chair. Your eyes were directly across from his crotch, and the strain of his pants was very evident.

“Oh my God.” You gasped at the size of what you saw, taken aback that that’s what this cocky lawyer was packing in his pants. 

He sat back down for a moment, curling his lips into his mouth before standing again. 

“Do you see this? This is your fault. Not mine.” He looked almost frustrated, angry that you had done this to him without any knowledge. 

He rounded the desk and gripped the arms of your chair, leaning in, only inches away from your flushed face. You didn’t move back, instead you too moved forward until your lips almost brushed his. 

“Lock the door.” You whispered in a low tone that made him growl, his cock beginning to throb harder at your words. 

He let his lips brush yours once more before he did as you said, turning around to find you seated on the edge of his desk. 

“Let’s get one thing straight pequeño…I’m in charge.” The way he walked towards you with his brow low and eyes dark was positively predatory, and you loved it.

“And what makes you think that?” You quipped turning your nose up slightly in defiance. 

He grabbed you roughly and pulled you to him, pressing his face into your neck as he bit softly at your skin. 

“Because I said so.” He murmured against your skin, breathing in your delectable scent that made his knees so weak.

“You’re not my father.” You whispered as a light moan escaped your lips when he began to suck at the skin he had bit.

“No…I’m not. But you will call me Daddy tonight.” He growled almost sweetly before sliding his hands down your upper arms until he had both of your hands in his massive vein covered ones. 

“I need you to say yes.” He whispered, as he inched your hands along his stomach, pulling them downward towards his arousal. 

“Yes…Daddy.” As you finished speaking he finally brought your eager hands to his pressing erection.

As you felt him over his pants you cooed softly, wanting to rile him up as much as possible. It worked. He nearly fell backwards as you moved closer, your hands both squeezing his length as you pushed him back against his desk. 

You had him out of his pants in no time, leaving him stood, thighs and ass against his desk as you pulled down his briefs. As you pulled you licked at Rafael through the fabric making him thrust his hips forward. 

Finally he sprung free and Jesus Christ, he was painfully hard. 

“Does this hurt Daddy?” You purred in a faux innocent voice, allowing only your breath to touch him as he continued to swell.

“Si no me tocas ahora voy a morir.” If you don’t touch me now I’m going to die, He almost sobbed, losing all control for a brief moment. 

“Well we can’t have that can we?” You let the words drip from your tongue before placing it on him.

You licked him swiftly root to tip before circling his head with your tongue. His cock was perfect, and just like his hands it was covered in bulging veins. You licked each one, minding their curves and paths as you did so. 

Rafael brought a hand to the top of your head and wove his fingers into your hair, not pushing you, just feeling you. 

You rewarded him by taking his head into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it twice before sucking as hard as you could. He slammed both hands on the sides of his desk and made a strangled sound that was akin to a scream. 

He only let you treat him for a few seconds more before pulling himself from you and gesturing for you to hop on his desk. You did so gingerly, mindful of his documents. Rafael lifted your skirt and yanked your panties off in one smooth motion. His fingers made contact with exactly how wet he had made you as he pulled them off and he moaned almost proudly before tossing your legs over each of his shoulders. 

He drank you wildly, with a passion and expertise that you had never known. You threaded your delicate fingers through his wealth of slightly sweaty hair and moaned loudly as he consumed you. 

Rafael could not have been happier with his current position in between your legs. His nose was pressed firmly to your clit and his tongue dove in and out of your entrance tasting every drop of you as he went. 

You were close, so very close, but some part of you knew that if you came, he would too. And you needed him inside you. Now.

He seemed to have the same thought and gave you one final swipe before positioning himself against you. One hand on your neck and the other on your hip he sat you up, and kissed you.

As your lips made their first real contact he pushed inside of you strongly, making you cry into his open mouth. He cried out too, it had been far too long since he had been inside someone, and he had never been inside someone as beautiful as you. As Rafael began to thrust inside of you you trembled, overwhelmed with his size and his hands that held you firmly in place. 

He squeezed on your throat and gave you a particularly deep thrust almost making you jump on the desk. 

“Oh Raf!” You squealed as he pounded harder, making you feel every inch he had to offer.

“Dios mío eres tan hermosa.” He moaned as he kissed you again and again, his tongue massaging yours as he picked up his pace. 

He had to make you come, if it took all that he had, Rafael Barba had been put on this earth to make you come, here and now. 

Suddenly you unraveled, overtaken by the massive shock of your orgasm as it surprised you. You felt it in your fingertips and toes, shaking you from all other thoughts or feelings. You cried out as his grip on your throat shifted to the back of your neck, pulling your writhing body against his even closer, allowing him to drive deeper within you. 

The hand Rafael had on your hip squeezed and flexed possessively a few times before he too came, but not as quietly as you. You had thought you were loud, Rafael was deafening, he wailed, choking and crying as he shot deep within you, his grip tightening into a vise. 

You rested on his shoulder, totally limp, and he fell forward onto yours, his legs shaking and threatening to give out.��

One of the saddest moments of your life was when Rafael Barba pulled out of you, a few drops of you both falling onto the carpet below. You whimpered and he apologized with a few kisses before pulling you off of his desk and into his arms. He pulled up on you and you wrapped yourself around him as he hoisted you up, carrying you to the leather couch across the room. He laid you out and you reached for him with a little hum. 

Rafael was in disbelief that what had just taken place really happened, after all you were…you. And he was just…Rafael. 

He laid down with you after gathering and re-donning his briefs and pants from where he had kicked them off. He settled behind you, holding you securely in his arms, his spine against the back of the couch. You hummed softly and he stroked at your hair as you fell asleep. He let you nap, still in awe that you were in his arms. His mind berated him with reprimands and citations of why this would fall apart, why he didn’t deserve you, but he shut them up for the first time in his life. Simply for the sake and privilege of hearing you breathe as you shifted closer to him, lightly gripping his forearms that linked tightly around your chest as you slept. 

[tinylilemrys]

Read it on AO3

Alec's first thought upon seeing the flowers is panic (Who left these? How did they get in here? Why would the intruder leave flowers of all things?), but when he turns off his Shadowhunter brain long enough to take a look at the card, he's pleasantly surprised to find that the mysterious flowers are from Magnus. It's the most thoughtful, beautiful gift anyone has ever given him.

Unfortunately, because the universe is cruel, he’s also deathly allergic to them.

Alec knows he’s supposed to be working. He knows that as the new Head of the Institute he’s supposed to be setting an example of productivity and dedication to the task at hand.

But the vase of flowers he finds sitting on his desk that morning throws him completely off-kilter.

His first thought upon seeing them is panic (Who left these? How did they get in here? Why would the intruder leave flowers of all things?), but he turns off his Shadowhunter brain long enough to take a look at the card and is pleasantly surprised to find that it’s from Magnus.

Hey you.

I hope you don’t mind the Downworlder intrusion. I was in and out in the blink of an eye. These are just to say that you’re on my mind. In fact, you’re somewhat of a permanent feature there now.

I love you.

- M x

P.S. Dinner at my place, 7pm? Dessert and entertainment to follow? ;)

It’s impossible to stop the enormous grin that has taken over his features.

Alec has never imagined himself to be a romantic person, either through knowing himself too well or not knowing himself well enough, but the card and the sight of the bold, multi-coloured blooms in the varnished dark wood vase fill him with such a sudden rush of giddy happiness that he has to concede that maybe he is as ridiculous as Clary or Simon.

As he closes his eyes for a moment to take in the myriad of scents, he concedes that maybe being ridiculous is just a side-effect of being in love with Magnus Bane.

Pushing through the sudden desire to blow off the mountain of paperwork on his desk to spend the day in his boyfriend’s warm and brightly lit apartment (he’s never been a fan of the dark and dank rooms of the Institute), Alec sits down and dutifully begins reading through the tedious reports on the Institute’s various research efforts and the Clave’s damage control after Valentine’s latest (and hopefully final) attack. Unbidden, his eyes keep darting back up to the flowers and though he tries to convince himself that it’s because their bright colours and sweet perfume are a distraction, he can’t deny that the real reason is that he’s struggling to believe that they’re really there. That he’s actually been sent flowers and that he has it in neat black-and-white script that at this moment, somewhere in New York, his favourite person in the world is thinking about him.

After making sure that there is no one outside his office who might see, Alec takes a photo of them and slides his phone into his pocket guiltily as if he used it to commit a crime rather than the completely reasonable activity of taking a photo of the beautiful flowers he’d been given by his boyfriend.

The headache starts about five reports in and grows steadily worse. He tries to shake it off, to pretend it’s not there, but it pounds behind his eyes, pulling his focus and making him read the same line about three or four times. It’s probably just tension, he tells himself, and gets up from his desk to stretch. Strangely, he stumbles as he makes his way to the other side of the room and his head feels like it’s been stuffed with thick fabric.

When his throat begins to feel tight and nose begins burning, Alec knows that something is really wrong. He pulls his Stele from his belt and tries to inscribe the Iratze rune, but his hand is shaking too much to trace it accurately. Instead, he begins stumbling towards the infirmary, wondering how on earth he’s going to make it there in the state he’s in.

Like a godsend though, Isabelle finds him about halfway up the hallway. He only vaguely registers her asking him what’s wrong in a panicky voice.

“Dunno. Infirmary,” he rasps, gesturing vaguely to the other end of the hallway.

“I’ve got you.” She throws his arm around her shoulder, taking most of his weight and the two of them stagger down the hallway together. Even with Isabelle moving Alec along as fast as she can, it takes them twice as long to get to the Infirmary than it usually would and Alec’s vision is starting to go hazy as breathing becomes more difficult.

They’re barely through the door when Isabelle starts explaining the situation to a nurse attending to a bed on the other side of the room. The nurse, Sister Rea, immediately shoulders Alec’s other arm and leads him to the nearest bed.

“It looks like an allergic reaction. Nothing out of the ordinary, but we’ll need to act quickly.” She makes her way to a cabinet on the far side of the room and moments later, there’s a sharp prick in Alec’s arm. It’s not long after that that he feels his airways open and as he takes a few deep breaths, he feels his head clear. “I’ll still need to administer more medication, and you best believe you’re on bed rest for the rest of the day, head of the institute or not, but you’ll be glad to hear that you shouldn’t suffer any lasting effects.”

Sister Rea makes her way back to the cabinet, presumably to prepare Alec’s second dose.

“By the angel, Alexander Lightwood, you scared me,” Isabelle says, punching the shoulder that hasn’t been injected. “What the hell did you do to yourself?”

“I don’t know,” says Alec, truthfully. “I was just getting through my reports when I started feeling weird. It came completely out of nowhere.”

“And you can’t remember eating or drinking anything different to what you usually do this morning?”

“I had the same breakfast you did.”

“That’s really strange,” says Isabelle, perching on the edge of Alec’s bed. “There wasn’t anything weird about the reports? No traces of foreign substances on them or anything? I know that a few of the Downworlder reports sometimes come with …interesting side effects.”

“No, there was nothing like that. It was just another boring Tuesday,” Alec replies. Then sudden realisation hits him. “Unless…”

“What?”

“There were… uh, there were flowers on my desk this morning.”

Alec regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Izzy’s eyes glitter with humour and interest and he can feel the colour flooding into his cheeks.

“From Magnus?” she grins.

As Alec’s blush deepens, Isabelle laughs and shoves his shoulder.

“So you’re not a complete hardass! I knew there was a gooey sentimental centre in there somewhere!”

“Don’t be a pain, Izzy.” Alec rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now too.

“So tell me everything,” says Isabelle. “Was it a big bouquet? Was there a note? What kind did he get you?”

“I don’t know – the colourful kind that smells nice,” shrugs Alec. “I was too surprised by their presence to analyse and catalogue each plant.”

“You’re no fun,” she pouts. “You don’t even have a vague idea of what they were?”

“I’m pretty sure that there were… hold on, I’m being dumb.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opens his photos and hands it to Isabelle.

“Yeah, I can see what your problem might be,” smiles Isabelle, pointing to the offending flowers. “Tulips. They’re absolutely beautiful, and these red ones mean a declaration of love, but I’m deathly allergic to them and I’m pretty sure that’s what happened to you too. Many horrific first dates have taught me to be upfront about that.”

“Huh. Well I guess you learn something new every day,” shrugs Alec. As Isabelle hands him back his phone, he looks at the photo again. Red tulips mean a declaration of love. He knows Magnus loves him – he wrote that on the card – but there’s something wonderful in the thought that Magnus chose these flowers specifically to say it again. “You really think he was trying to say that? With the tulips I mean.”

“Sure,” says Isabelle. “Magnus doesn’t strike me as the type of person who does things unintentionally and all the other flowers he’s chosen seem to add up. See, the yellow ones mean ‘there is sunshine in your smile’, the stock flowers mean ‘you will always be beautiful to me’, these ones – the yellow lilies – mean that he feels like he’s walking on air when he’s with you and the ferns mean magic and fascination. Put that all together and it comes out as a pretty strong message: the boy is crazy about you.”

Alec’s heart is beating so loudly that he’s sure his sister can hear it. These flowers are the most beautiful, thoughtful gift he’s ever been given and because the universe is cruel, he’s allergic to them.

“I’m going to need to give you another jab,” says the nurse, returning with a large needle. “This one knocks you out pretty quickly though, so you might want to get comfy.”

Isabelle slides off the bed and gives Alec a small peck on his forehead.

“I’ll let Magnus know you say thanks,” she assures him. “You just focus on getting better.”

“Thanks, Izzy,” he says, his face screwing up in momentary pain as the needle goes into his arm.

He’s asleep before she leaves the room.

***

Alec wakes up warm and comfortable to the sensation of circles being softly traced onto his knuckles.

“Izzy?” he asks, slowly opening his eyes and shutting them again against the harsh light.

“Would you be disappointed if it turned out to be me instead?” says an amused voice from next to him.

Magnus.

Alec gives the hand tracing his knuckles a squeeze and makes a more concentrated effort to open his eyes.

“Two Downworlder invasions in one day?” he smirks sleepily up at his boyfriend. “People might talk.”

“People do precious little else,” laughs Magnus, leaning over to kiss Alec. Pressing another softer kiss to his forehead, he adds, “Sorry for nearly killing you this morning.”

“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t know.” Alec sits up and gestures for Magnus to join him on the bed. As Magnus obediently settles down against Alec’s chest, Alec kisses his hair. “They were beautiful and I don’t know how I’m ever going to thank you enough.”

“This is a good start.” Magnus runs a gentle hand up and down Alec’s knee and lower thigh. “I don’t know if you know what I was saying with them, but I meant all of it.”

“Izzy helped me with the flower meanings,” says Alec, wrapping an arm around Magnus and threading their fingers together, “and I don’t have a creative way to say it back, but you too. All of it. The sunshine and walking on air and that you’ll always be beautiful to me. You’re just… you’re everything. I love you.”

“I love you too, Alexander.”

They lie like that for a long time: Magnus’ warm frame pressed against Alec’s chest and their breathing rising and falling together. Alec loses himself in the pure bliss of it and almost falls asleep until he jerks awake in realisation.

“Magnus, the dinner –“

“Can be put off until another time. You’re convalescing.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to convalesce far better with you in your comfortable king-sized bed than in this cramped and noisy thing,” says Alec, bouncing the bed with a loud metallic squeak for emphasis. He leans forward and kisses the edge of Magnus’ ear just below the ornate silver dragon that curls around it and whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Gladly,” smirks Magnus, hopping gracefully up from the bed and stretching out a hand for Alec to take. From the catlike gleam in the warlock’s eyes, Alec gets the feeling that convalescing is the last thing that will be on their minds when they arrive home.

[kurokoros]

Title: All These Flashing Lights

Pairing: NaLu

AU: are requests really open....NaLu for this prompt???? because it fits them so well??? idk??? “my friend thought you were cute so she tried to take a picture of you for snapchat and her flash went off but when you looked our way she shoved her phone into my hands and nOW YOU THINK IT’S ME AND OH GOD PLS DON’T BE MAD”

Word Count: 1930

Rating: T for langue and suggestive material towards the end

“He’s hot,” Cana repeats for what must be the sixth time in the span of five minutes, the brunette practically purring as she eyes the attractive man across the café. She’s blatantly staring and Lucy is fairly certain that if she keeps it up they’re either going to be noticed by the attractive man across the room or thrown out by Mira because is being a fucking creep.

Lucy just wanted to hang out with her friend on her one day off in the last two weeks, not freak the fuck out of some guy she doesn’t know because Cana has no idea how to behave in public.

She sighs, dropping her chin to rest against her palm and pretending to be thoroughly engrossed in her slushy. Strawberry lemonade has always been a favorite of hers and Cana is ruining the sanctity of frozen fruit beverages. Lucy casually glances at the man in question, eyes widening slightly in horror when she catches sight of his arm. “If you’re referring to the fact that his sleeve is on fire,” she says slowly, “than I’d be inclined to agree.”

The man pats out the small flame quickly, laughing as he turns back to his friend across the table, and Lucy takes a long moment to just look at him. Her head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He looks like some kind of punk-rock model, if she’s being honest with herself. The flash of silver piercings in his ear gains her rapt attention, and she has to bit her lower lip when she sees the hoop through the bottom right corner of his lip. His bright, bubble-gum pink hair is shocking, but not necessarily unpleasant. And Lucy is pretty sure cheekbones like that can only be carved from marble.

Yeah, the dude is freakishly hot, but Lucy has the decency not to weird about it.

“Oh, come on, Lucy!” Cana whines, shoving at her shoulder roughly and making Lucy nearly drop her slushy. “Look at that face! Those arms!” Too late, Cana, Lucy already is and she very much appreciates the way his tank-top leaves his arms bare and clings to his chest just right.

Fuck, now Lucy’s being creepy, too.

Lucy looks away before Cana or the attractive stranger can notice her obvious interest in the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest. “You know,” Lucy muses, pointing at Cana with the end of her straw before popping the tube into her mouth and sucking off the ice and juice clinging to the bottom. “You’re kind of being creepy.”

Cana is silent for exactly eight seconds, her eyes narrowed as she considers Lucy’s words.

“I’m going to take a picture of him.”

She wants to die. “And the creepy meter goes up,” she murmurs, mostly to herself considering Cana is clearly not listening to a word she says. Lucy really should have just stayed home today. She should have stayed home and curled up on her couch with her dog to watch shitty reruns of the Bachelor, or gone to the library, or maybe she should have gone to the aquarium! Lucy doesn’t even like fish, but they would be better than whatever this is.

Cana, again, simply ignores Lucy, instead digging in her purse to fish out her phone, fiddling with it for a moment. Lucy tries to ignore her, but a sick sense of dread fills her stomach and she’s pretty sure her day is going to get fucked in about three seconds. “I’m putting it on Snapchat,” Cana tells her, smirking.

“You have no sense of decency,” Lucy replies, wanting no part of any of this. She considers leaving or melting into a shambling mass of abstract shapes and disappearing into the floor, but knows that one of those options is impossible, much to her disappointment.

It’s her turn to pay the bill and Lucy would feel bad if she bailed.

Cana sends Lucy a feral grin. “Lucy, when I see a hot piece of ass—”

“I don’t want you to finish that sentence,” Lucy hisses, cutting her friend off. She glares, but Cana either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as she finally opens the correct app. She turns and winks at Lucy, who glares.

Smirking, Cana wets her lips. “I’d let him bench-press me,” she tells Lucy suddenly, the blonde sputtering in surprise, nearly choking on her drink. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy sees the hot stranger turn and look at them curiously, his eyes narrowed as he looks at the pair across the room.

What Lucy doesn’t notice is the way his eyes linger on her for a moment too long.

Once Lucy is finally able to breathe again, she glares across the booth at Cana, strongly considering leaping across the table and strangling her friend. She’s sure Gildarts wouldn’t mind too much. Besides, Mira would totally help her hide the body. “You see,” Lucy hisses, setting her drink down a little too hard, Cana ignoring her as she fiddles with her phone, trying to discreetly angle it towards the hot stranger. She’s failing, but Lucy figures that’s not her problem. “This is why I don’t go out in public with you.” Cana ignores her, grinning when she finally lines up the phone perfectly. “Cana if you take that picture I’ll—”

There’s a horrifically loud click, a bright flash of light, and then something is being shoved into Lucy hands as Cana leaps from the booth and starts hustling away, not bothering to look back and see Lucy’s stunned, horrified expression.

Lucy kind of feels like crying as she feels several pairs of eyes swivel around to look at her, a low whine spilling from her throat as she clutches Cana’s phone tightly, not daring to look down at the incriminating photo on the screen. “Oh, fuck,” she hisses, scrambling to delete the picture.

The screen goes blank a moment before someone slides into the seat across from her, Lucy bristling as her head snaps up, the blonde ready to bitch out her friend for being an asshole, only to freeze before the words can come out.

It’s not Cana.

It’s the hot stranger.

Yeah, Lucy is definitely, one-hundred-percent, without a doubt, majorly fucked.

Unsure what to do, Lucy just sits there with the incriminating phone in her hand, blatantly staring at the stupidly hot guy across from her and trying not to let her eyes wander to the tattoo curling around his shoulder or the teasing line of sweat running down the side of his neck. Briefly, she wonders if his skin tastes as good as he looks, then considers drowning herself in the kitchen sink when the thought registers, Lucy blushing deeply. “Hi,” she greets awkwardly, trying to smile at the stranger. “I’m Lucy.” She wants to die.

“Natsu,” he replies and Lucy about melts when he grins at her, deep, slanted green eyes crinkling at the edges. She hears a muffled encouragement come from his friend and Natsu’s smile turns into a cheeky, lopsided grin that shows off his canines perfectly.

That’s the panty-dropper right there.

Unsure what else to do, Lucy decides to clear up the mess Cana has inadvertently caused. “Okay,” she starts slowly, trying to smile back at him, but knowing it’s half-assed, “this is going to sound like a really shitty excuse, but I swear my friend was the one who took the picture and—”

“I know,” he cuts her off, still smiling. Amusement flickers in his eyes and Lucy finds herself relaxing slightly, her frazzled nerves calming when she realizes he isn’t angry or going to sue her for harassment or something.

“You know,” she repeats stupidly, absentmindedly twirling her straw in her cup, teeth pulling at her bottom lip. He follows the motion with his eyes, swallowing slightly. Lucy’s breath catches, but she tries not to think too hard about it.

Natsu laughs and his eyes crinkle again, Lucy smiling as well. “She wasn’t very subtle about it,” he tells her, leaning forward to rest his elbows against the table. He edges into Lucy’s personal space, but she doesn’t mind, head tilting curiously to one side as she looks at him, wondering why he came over if he knew what happened.

Laughing, Lucy shakes her head, a fond, slightly irked expression on her face. “She never is,” Lucy tells him, pulling a short, bark of a laugh from him that makes Lucy shiver all the way to her toes. “Again, sorry about that.”

He shrugs, dark eyes locking with hers, Lucy’s breath catching slightly. “I was planning on coming over here anyway,” he tells her slowly, gauging her reaction, something a bit nervous in his eyes as he watches her expression.

Lucy inhales sharply, stomach twisting pleasantly at the implication. However, instead of diving right into the new can of worms, she decides to tease a bit, wanting him to say it out loud. “Well,” she tells him, reaching for her slushy and taking another slow sip. Lucy pretends not to notice the way his eyes flick to her lips as the straw slips from her mouth. “You missed your chance. She’s probably halfway home by now.”

Natsu rolls his eyes, knowing she’s playing around. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” Lucy knows it, but his words still surprise her, her not expecting him to be so forward about it. Though, she supposes she isn’t being very subtle herself.

“Oh,” is all she says, leaning back in the booth and finally allowing her eyes to wander down passed his throat and to the shirt that seems just a tad too small for him, though the view is very appreciated.

He quirks a brow, smirking. “Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh?’ ” he asks her, head cocking to one side slightly.

“I guess we’ll find out,” she tells him, smirking at him from across the table. He laughs in response, and Lucy is pretty sure she’ll have to thank Cana later, much to her slight humiliation.

It’s later when Natsu is pressing her into her mattress, his lips trailing down her throat and deft hands wandering across her back, fingers tugging at the clasp of her bra, that Lucy gets an idea. She gasps, more so because of Natsu sucking roughly at her pulse point than her thoughts, and her nails dig into Natsu’s bare back. He’s just as toned as she was expecting and it sends a little thrill though her.

The thought pulses at the back of her mind, Lucy’s thighs squeezing around his hips as Natsu unlatches her bra. “Wait,” she murmurs, one hand leaving his back to grope at her nightstand, Lucy grasping her phone tightly when she finds it. “Natsu, wait,” she pants.

He pulls back slightly, still close enough for his hot breath to tickle her sensitive skin. “What?” he murmurs back. “What’s—” He freezes, finally noticing what Lucy is doing.

She chews her bottom lip nervously, her Snapchat opened. She can see their reflection in the picture, the sight of Natsu looming over her, eyes dark and his lips just a breath away from her skin, sending a shiver down her spine, Lucy arching into his chest slightly. “Can I—”

She cuts off when Natsu drags his teeth down the side of her neck, nipping at her skin and dragging a surprised gasp from Lucy.

The flash goes off, but neither of them seem to notice as Natsu rises to capture her mouth with his.

[imaginedilestrade]

The Girl Next Door

——————————— Chapter 5 ————— You placed your earpiece into your ear and finished off fixing your hair with your fingers "Can you guys hear me?" You asked Jim and Sebastian. "Well of course I can hear you Y/N I'm in your kitchen" Sebastian muttered out and you rolled your eyes. "Oh fuck off, you know what I meant" you stood up and smoothed out your dress that Jim had sent you for the police ball. It had been two months since you got shot and your bullet wound had healed leaving a scar on your right side but it didn't bother you as it was covered most of the time. Since that day with Greg he'd been hanging about with you more regularly, you'd have at least one day a week where you'd spend the entire day with him either in his flat or yours watching movies. Jim let out a snort of laugher over the comms "Yes I can hear you perfectly, I can hear you too tiger" he purred to Sebastian. You pulled a face at his tone. "We sticking with animals?" You asked. "It seems so, I think I'll call you leopard, Y/N. A woman who never changes her spots" Jim told you. "Well just because you call my brother a tiger in the bedroom does not mean you can call him that outside it" You smirked and touched up your lipstick, rubbing your lips together. Sebastian fixed his bow tie, retorting back "I like it when he does" "Me too..." Jim purred in response and Sebastian meowed back to his beloved. You gagged at them being all lovey-dovey "If you two are going to use the comms as a sex line I'm switching mine off" you sighed and put your earrings in before joining your brother in the kitchen and sending him a cringeworthy look. Sebastian could help but laugh and teasingly pinched your cheeks "Oh Jim you should see her face. I think we are being too cute for her". Jim sorted "Well Y/N I'm about to meet a very attractive man in about 20 minutes, I think you'd love him as a new pet and he's got the most divine Welsh accent. It would be even more divine to hear him moan your name..." You could almost see Jim's devilish smile as he tired to set you up with one of his associates. Sebastian awkwardly cleared his throat as your cheeks flushed a shade of light pink "No Jim, I'm perfectly fine. We will talk to you after your meeting by then we should be ready to go ahead with the plan". You and Sebastian switched off your comms links for the time being and you let out an exasperated sigh "I wish your boyfriend would stop trying to set me up with people". Sebastian sent you a smile before looking at the glass of whiskey he had poured out beforehand "I've booked tickets for us to go to India next week. Just me and him, he doesn't know yet but I'm going to tell him later when he gets back from Wales". A happy squeal left your lips and you excitedly sat down next to him "Really? Wow! He'll love it, Seb! I miss it...remember the tiger sanctuary we went to? You should take him there! Oh and take tonnes of photos for me!" You rambled on and Sebastian laughed, placing his arm on your shoulder. "I'll take him there to propose to him" he told you. You screamed with delight and embraced your brother in a tight hug, being careful not to crease his Armani suit Jim had picked out especially for him "Oh my god! Seb I'm so happy for you! Christ, I just put on my mascara and you're going to make me cry..." You waved your hands over your eyes, letting out a small sniffle. "I love you and I'm so happy that you've found someone who makes you happy. I know Jim will say yes" you reassured him and placed a small kiss on his cheek. "Thanks Y/N, I think our ride has just pulled up," Sebastian pointed to the window and downed his drink letting out a contented 'Ahh' as he placed down the glass "Shall we sister dear?" He extended his arm out to you. "We shall" you smiled and linked his arms with his, walking out of your flat and shutting the door behind you "Do you have everything?" Sebastian asked before you locked your door. "Yeah I-" you turned around and your voice disappeared at the sight of Greg leaving his flat "I...yeah...I've...yeah" you stuttered out as your voice caught in the back of your throat and Sebastian narrowed his eyes at you being so dumbfounded. Good god Greg looked gorgeous. "Hey Y/N" Greg sent you a small wave "Wow...you look beautiful" he breathed a whisper out as his eyes engulfed every inch of you in a black dress with blood red lace and embroidery. You couldn't help but blush and look to the floor "Oh this must be your boyfriend?" He questioned almost disappointedly, Greg had recognised Sebastian instantly and he knew he was the one that stayed the night occasionally. All your shyness had disappeared and your head snapped up to Greg with a cringeworthy look on your face "Boyfriend?!" You shrieked out and Sebastian sent you a odd look and you sent him one back before you both shook your head "Oh god no! He's my brother!" You explained awkwardly laughing. "Really? Uhh..." Greg was lost for words but he was sure to question you later about your brother "Sorry, I'm Greg" he extended his hand out and Sebastian took it with a tense smile. One you know all too well, Sebastian was on edge about him. "I'm Sebastian Moran, pleased to meet you" Seb politely introduced himself. You let out a snort and jabbed his side once he let go of Greg's hand "Moran...more like moron" you teased and Sebastian playfully punched your arm. "If I'm Sebastian moron then you're Y/N moron! You moron!" "Shut the fuck up Seb" you poked his sides, gently giggling "You off to the ball too Greg?" You asked with a friendly smile. He nodded "Yeah about to get a cab, are you two going?" He asked gesturing at your attire. "Yeah! My boss was supposed to go with dumbass here but couldn't make it so suggested I go," you had told Greg that you were a personal assistant for a CEO in the city, he seemed to have bought it. "Seb and my boss are dating but he's away on business" that wasn't entirely a lie. "And don't be silly come with us! There's not much point playing for a cab when you can ride with us! We are all going to the same place after all" You suggested. You could feel Sebastian's eyes burning into you disapprovingly. "Oh I wouldn't want to impose or anything" you waved off his comment and told him to come with you and your brother. Sebastian helped you down the stairs and into the car Jim had sent. It was a cross between a limo and a car, the back seat was facing another seat and it had a screen between the driver and the back of the car. Sebastian sat facing you and Greg, you were both sitting facing forward. "Oh shit! I just remembered that last time you got to play your playlist so now it's my turn" you stuck your tongue out at Sebastian and he let an almost pained groan. "Greg you're going to want to join me by the front of the car so the driver can run over us" Sebastian sarcastically urged "Y/N's taste in music is horrific, it would be less painful to have your arm gnawed off by a rat that listen to her playlist". You let out a dramatic gasp "Sebastian! How dare you say that about 90's pop sensations the backstreet boys and all my legendary 80's songs!" You dramatically placed your hand over your heart and head. Sebastian rolled his eyes while Greg smiled at you, your brother noticed. You pulled out your phone from your bag and began scrolling through songs while Sebastian questioned Greg "So...Greg, you married?". Your scrolling finger froze and you glared at Sebastian through your eyelashes. Greg shifted awkwardly on his seat "No, not anymore. I'm divorced" "Single?" Sebastian quickly questioned and the grip you had on your phone tightened. "Uhh..yeah" he replied. Sebastian nodded as if to be interested "Ahh just like bitch-face over here" your brother pointed to you and if your looks could kill Seb would be dead four times. Greg's eyes widened, he didn't think you were single. He opened his mouth to clarify that you were actually single and perhaps then he'd find a spark of courage to get closer to you. "Don't listen to dickhead, Greg..." You muttered and Greg chuckled. "Are you two always like this?" The detective asked. You nodded and pursed your lips slightly "Well he's always being an arsehole so yeah" you and Greg shared a laugh while Sebastian looked between the both of you. He's never seen that smile on your face before, and he had seen every emotion from you. Just not this one. He made a mental note to keep an eye on this and before the three of you knew it you had arrived at the ball. Sebastian helped you out of the car "You bugger, you kept talking so I wouldn't get a chance to play my music!" You growled at him and Sebastian playfully rolled his eyes. "Whoopsie...anyway," he leaned in closer to your ear "We take him to the roof at five minutes to ten then he jumps" you nodded and went inside. Sebastian kept close to you all night while Greg mingled with the crowd, you kept your gaze firmly on the detective and he caught you staring. More than once. He walked over to you with a smirk tugging on his lips "Would you like to dance?" He hopefully asked, reaching out for your hand. "Of course I would". ———————— Tags: @viragannav @musingsofophelia @damnitman-jamlocked-inthetardis @heaven-bound-angel @mycdiary @anamericanplaywright @princesspeach212 @adorablebadger

[lemonyhummingbird]

Writing Blurb

Prompt: You come through my line at checkout with 100 coupons what are you even going to do with 40 boxes of orange soda? ~ Charlotte and Elanie ~ Dailyau

The monotony of this job is finally getting to me; scan one item, put it in the bag, repeat. Handing hopefully my last customer his credit card back, I glance down my aisle and groan.  I keep my face plastered with a smile as I ask her if she found everything okay. She nods and goes over to look at the magazine rack at my aisle cap. “Don’t trust The Inquirer.”

Her face drops as she turns towards my voice. “All of their articles have absolutely no truth in them.” She slowly puts this month’s edition of The Inquirer back on the shelf and gives me an embarrassed smile. The magazine’s headline shouts in bold white font that Hillary Clinton opened up about having a secret sex dungeon with Bill.

I shudder as horrific images come to mind of those creeps doing the nasty. I glance down the girl’s cart and see it’s filled with about 40 boxes of Sunkist. I have to make conscious effort not to drop my jaw. The girl notices me staring at her collection of soda and laughs a little. “Don’t worry, I have coupons for all of these.”

She takes off the dark blue Kate Spade purse over her shoulder and sets it on the conveyer belt to rummage through to hopefully find a wad of coupons for 24 packs of soda. “Do you want me to scan these for you while you look?” I ask cautiously. The girl gives me a nod as she proceeds to empty her purse on the conveyer belt. I glance up at her items on the belt as my brain goes into the monotony of counting to 40 as I repeatedly scan a box of Sunkist.

I see a bottle of lavender lotion, a tube of black mascara, a bottle of hand sanitizer, some car keys, a box of band-aids, and a granola bar. “Here they are, sorry about that.” I finish scanning and take the coupons from the girl before I go behind my counter. I flip through the coupons and see that indeed they are all for cases of soda. I start scanning the coupons and then I realize something horrible.

“Did you clip, like, 100 of these?”  I ask the girl with a hint of judgement in my voice. The girl blushes and starts to fumble with her arrow straight brown hair, taking a strand and twirling it around her pointer finger. “It's kind of silly but my mom is obsessed with coupons and my dad's a prepper so it's like a match made in heaven. I sort of picked up their habits.” She laughs a little and but it trails of with a sound of shame.

I finish scanning her massive stack of coupons and throw them into my trash bin underneath my station. “Does your family have a stash of goods in their basement, like in that extreme couponing show?” The girl nods and pulls out her phone. She shows me a few photos and I'm amazed at the amount of soup cans they own. “You know, you could sign up to be on that show.

“You're welcome to use my aisle if you'd like.” The girl puts her phone back in her purse and swings it over her shoulder. “No no no. There's no way they'd let me on their show. Nobody wants to see this face for half an hour.”

I glare at her as I give her a once over. She's tall, maybe 5’4 but she stands slouched with her knees turning inward. Her eyes are a brilliant green like a sprouting plant. “You are a bombshell. I would definitely take 30 minutes out of my day to watch you.”

Her eyes go wide. Fuck, that sounded really creepy. “Not that I would stalk you and take pictures of you from my car… I'm not making this any better, am I?” Surprisingly, she laughs, a real laugh.

“Actually, I wouldn't mind if you did.” She pulls out a piece of paper and scribbles down her number. The p.a. crackles overhead accounting that shoppers have 15 minutes to finish before the store closes. “I should probably get going before someone decided to steal my car.” She pulls out a credit card and  proceeds to pay.

I look down at the paper she gave me, “Elaine Metero - Coupon Goddess”. I can’t help but let out a giggle when my manager taps me on the shoulder. “What’s so funny Lottie?” I turn around to see Luke Spurlin, the biggest asshole I’ve ever met. If Bill Lumbergh from Office Space had been reincarnated, it would be him.

He would constantly take away my personal days and force me to work on holidays. Anyone else on our large staff at the Ralphs could take my place but no, my name and only my name showed up on the calendar. When I confronted him about last month when he had me down to work Christmas Eve and Christmas day, he brought up the point that I could always quit. Which is true, I could, but student loans, rent, and gas don’t pay for themselves. Thankfully though, Luke had another vendetta against someone else on the staff, my cousin Aaron.

Aaron did the customer service desk and I don’t envy him during Black Friday or any holiday. He had more shit to deal with on top of Luke. One year a women came in to return a blender because the blades were bent at the ends. I gave Aaron a pitiful look as the lady went on her long rant about she’s suing the store for false advertising and how all of us will lose everything we own just because she didn’t understand how to properly use a kitchen appliance. He would always laugh off everyone’s insane complaints since they made great stories when the family got together.

“Hey Lottie, Lottie, I’m talking to you.” I take in a deep breath as I turn to face my boss and his stupid face. I plaster on my fake smile again and slipped Elaine’s number into my pocket. “If you could just close up again since I’m leaving early to take my girlfriend out for dinner? That would be great.”

I nod and lock up my register, swallowing the urge to punch him straight in the throat. I turn off my aisle light and walk to the back to the store room. I smile at Aaron as he takes off his lanyard and hangs it in his locker. “Guess who’s closing again?” I ask him sarcastically.

He smiles as he grabs his wallet and keys. “Who was that girl who was buying all that Sunkist earlier?” I was caught off guard when he asks me. “Oh, um…” I didn’t understand while I was fumbling with my words. She was just another customer, a face off many I see everyday.

I try to shrug nonchalantly and hide my new sparked nerves. “She said that her parents sort of rubbed off on her shopping habits. You should have seen the stack of coupons she gave me.” Aaron smirks. Ugh he knows that I think she’s pretty and I know he’s going to pop his signature question.

“If she gave you her number, go ahead and text her. You don’t think know that look you get when you see a nice looking person.” Huh, not what I was expecting. I give Aaron a bright smile as I grab my car keys. “Have a good night blender boy,” I punch him in the arm and he grunts playfully. I lock up the store and head out to my beaten up junk pile of a car.

The paint has chipped away and the engine makes a weird noise sometimes but it’s my little prince. I start up my truck and wait for the heat to turn on. I pull out the sheet of paper from my pocket and debate about sending Elaine a text. Dropping the sheet of paper into my cup holder, I drive out of the parking with a clear set of evening plans. There shall be ramen and some couponing tips in my future.