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farrahda5hy · 2 months

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Hey

Favourite fall out boy songs??

Woof…I’ve been a FOB since I was 11 years old circa 2005, so it really hard to say I have an all time favorite song. From an objective standpoint from watching the evolution of the band, I think Infinity on High is the best album they’ve released (this was before SMFS came out. I will have to rerank but I imagine SMFS will be in the top three/for and maybe IOH will be bumped down one or switch with FUTC)

I think the beauty of being a longtime fan is that your favorite song also changes and stays the same as you get older. Because growing up it’s like being a Matrioshka doll of your former selves.

I am always singing “Thriller” because it reminds me so much of being an early teenager since Folie à Deux didn’t come out until the end of my freshman year. But “Gold Shipped Standard” is the song on Folie that’s underrated imo but I think it’s the truth it kinda that era. It’s the weird uncertainty of what’s going to happens it’s the desperation of having a voice but not have the courage or being kept from using it (which being a teen is all about sometimes especially being a teenager of color).

When Save Rock and Roll came out, I was in my sophomore year of college (technically would have been second semester if freshman year), so “Where Did the Party Go” and “Miss Missing You” were very much my jams. I don’t listen to that album as much because….i just don’t. Part of me still see it was the post hiatus album, but I think it’s also just kinda a moment in time that you kinda just think about fondly or something. I think the album being the first post hiatus album gets so clouded that I think I was just so happy they were back….fuck that I just remembered “Phoenix” best song (but also Young Volcanoes because I’m a Pete girlie and I love Patrick’s laugh in that song also umm Rat a Tat Tat.)

AB/AP I was studying abroad, and I was so upset that I thought I wouldn’t be able to hear that album. But I think other than Centuries (because I loved the Song “Tom’s diner” and the bass solo after the bridge still gives me the ASMR tingles to this day and even thinking about it gives me tingles), the song I listened to the most was the “Fourth of July” and “Immortals”. Those are still up there. I didn’t like Favorite Record when the album came out and skipped over it. But I appreciate that song now that I’m older. “Irresistible” has my favorite music video. I love the videos where the band is doing dumb shit, and I just love Andy in that video. Special shoutout to “Twin Skeletons” and “Jet Pack Blues.” FUCK EVERYTHING I JUST SAID UMA THURMAN! Best song! Best bass! Best summer fun! Good video! Yeah. I loved the Boyz of Zummer tour. Had a good time.

MANIA there are no misses on the album honestly. It was all good. But “Sunshine Riptide” is my favorite song on the album. “Stay Frosty”, “Church” and “Hold me Tight or Don’t” are tied for third.

SMFS there are also no misses on the album. Currently, my most sung while I’m out and don’t have music are “Fake Out” “Heaven, Iowa” and “SMFS.” Honorable mentions for “Baby Annihilation”

I literally was able to buy Clandestine Industries merch for the first time, and my inner selves were so hella impressed.

Also for FUCT: “Sugar” hold the #1 space mostly because it was on the radio playing early Saturday morning in May for the first time in Maryville, TN, and Patrick’s voice literally woke me up out of a deep sleep, and I was like “Who is this!?” Literally was so mad they didn’t say who it was because it was Saturday and then the radio hosts on Monday morning played the song again and I was like “it’s the song!” Fun Fact; the hosts were trying to figure out whether the lyric was “loaded God complex” or “loaded gun complex.”

I forgot Take this to your grave because I think at the time I found out FOB had another album before FUTC (I think this was between FUTC and IOH or slightly after IOH) but “Dead on arrival” “Saturday” (which makes me so happy that it’s their like encore or finisher song) and “Calm Before the Storm”

I will spare you the two EPs because this is just memory lane for me at this point unless you’re curious.

#fall out boy #asked and answered #thank you so much I literally was thinking about this today

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

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From Winston’s Insta story. A mood. I just left therapy and WHEW y’all...today is a day.

#I’m tired already #two more days #I just remembered I’m getting tatted Saturday #I need The Weeknd to come on #fuck PCOS

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arrowflier · 3 years

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Omggg my heart is aching with the small Mickey and Ian one 😭😭 please do a part two fuckkkk

I’M SORRY ANON BUT LOOK LOOK I FIXED IT. Moved this to the top of my prompt list so I wouldn't leave you hanging.

Part 1 if anyone needs their heart broken before I make it better. The parallels will make more sense too.

It's early on a Saturday afternoon when Mickey sees it.

They're over at the Gallagher house, watching Franny while Debbie works and Liam studies upstairs. Mickey has just finished chasing Franny around the house in a rousing game of liquor store robbery and collapsed on the worn sofa next to Ian, letting the other man drape an arm over his sweaty shoulders.

"She wear you out?" Ian asks, amused, as he turns down the volume on whatever comedy show rerun he was watching.

Mickey shakes his head, letting the movement tuck him more thoroughly into Ian's hold.

"Nah, just gotta give Little Red a break," he claims, but grins when Ian raises his eyebrows at him.

The both turn back to Franny, still zooming around the living room like a ginger Tasmanian devil, and Ian laughs.

"Yeah, looks like you really did a number on her," Ian quips, and Mickey elbows him in the gut. Ian lifts him arm to grab Mickey by the hair, shaking him lightly.

Mickey smacks ineffectively at his husband's hand. "Hey man, watch the..." he trails off.

Because from the corner of his eye, he can see what Franny is up to. She’s bent over a box Debbie had brought down from the attic that morning, digging through old toys and papers, pulling out an old, raggedly, doll.

A doll that looks oddly familiar.

Mickey stares long enough that Ian notices, and releases him.

“Mick,” he starts, sounding worried. “You okay?”

Mickey clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he says, then, “where’d that old thing come from?”

Ian gives him a confused look, so he nods his head at the doll that Franny is now happily playing with on the living room floor. She bends it’s limbs in all sorts of unnatural directions as they watch.

“Oh, that?” Ian says casually. “That was Fiona’s I think. Debbie lugged it around for a while too, back before she stole that kid.”

Mickey’s head snaps toward him. “Stole the...” he shakes his head. “No, never mind, I don’t wanna know.” He sits quietly, feeling Ian’s eyes still on him, and thumbs the side of his nose.

“Why?” Ian finally asks, and Mickey huffs.

“Not important,” he says, then stands abruptly from the sofa. “Hey, why don’t we take the kid to the park today?”

Franny hears that. “Park?” she asks excitedly, jumping up from the floor. She runs over to Mickey, dragging the doll by an arm, until she can wrap her own arms around Mickey’s leg.

“Yeah kid, why not?” he offers, ignoring Ian’s confused face behind him. “Go get Liam too, little Einstein probably needs a break.”

Franny eagerly runs off to do as she’s told, and Ian stands to move forward next to Mickey. He wraps his arms around him from behind, loose but present, and Mickey leans back into it.

“What’s this about, Mickey?” Ian asks softly, but Mickey just shakes his head again.

“Tell you when we get there,” he promises instead. “It’s fine, Ian.”

Ian tightens his hold briefly, then lets go when the kids come storming back down the stairs, relenting. He helps Franny into her coat while Mickey helps Liam track his down under a stack of laundry, and then they’re out the door, and off.

The route to the park is familiar. They pass the building where Ian had pressed him against the wall in broad daylight to kiss the life out on the way to the L after a family dinner. And the alley where someone had tried to mug them one night only to run away when he saw Mickey’s tats, leaving them both laughing so hard they had to hold each other up.

When they got to the park itself, Mickey made straight for the bench where Ian had sat on his lap two weeks ago just to piss off some holier-than-thou, gentrifying housewife. Franny and Liam immediately made for the playground together, but Ian followed him, sitting close at his side this time with an arm around his waist.

For a moment, they just watch. Liam is helping Franny climb the jungle gym, no small feat considering that she still hasn’t let go of her new favorite toy: that dirty, torn, raggedy doll that Mickey had somehow recognized from twenty-odd years ago.

“So,” Ian finally starts. “We’re here.”

Mickey hums. “We are,” he agrees. He leaves it at that just long enough to feel Ian’s chest heave in a sigh, then smiles and scoots even closer.

“You come here a lot as a kid?” he asks Ian, who’s surprised by the question.

“Uh, I guess,” he answers slowly. “I mean, Monica brought us sometimes, but she’d kinda forget we were here, so we usually told her we didn’t want to go.” He turns his gaze to Mickey’s profile. “Why?”

Mickey shrugs. “Met you here,” he reveals, and can tell by the way Ian’s arm stiffens around him that the other man doesn’t know what to make of that.

“No, you didn’t,” Ian disagrees. “I think I’d remember that, Mick, come on.”

“Nah, I did,” Mickey insists, still not looking at him. “You were like, a baby then, you wouldn’t remember.” He knows Ian wants to respond to that, but he doesn’t let him, pushing on instead.

“Musta been you, Lip, and Fiona,” he tells Ian. “All together over by that sandbox.” He points at the broken plastic turtle that’s seen better times, now barely holding any sand at all. “Your idiot brother stole that damn doll from her and ran.”

“Franny’s doll?” Ian asks, intrigued. “How are you so sure?”

Mickey snorts, and finally turns to face him, one leg coming up onto the bench between them. Ian’s arm falls from his back, his hand landing on Mickey’s knee, where his thumb starts to stroke back and forth.

“I’d know you anywhere, Red,” he shares. “Your hair’s like a fuckin’ target man, can’t hide that shit.”

Ian blinks at him. “But you said I was a baby.”

“You were. Like, one or two, I guess? But you already had the hair.” Mickey reaches up with one hand, ruffles it through Ian’s close-cropped curls, and laughs when Ian goes cross-eyed trying to see what he’s doing. “Even then I wanted to fuckin’ touch it,” Mickey muses.

Ian finally catches that hand and brings it down between them, linking their fingers. “Why didn’t you?” he questions. “I mean, I didn’t know you for years after that, why didn’t you come talk to us?”

Mickey’s lips twist. “Tried to,” he admits. “Well, sorta. But Fiona was protective, and you started fuckin’ cryin’.” He looks down, then back up through his lashes. “Scared the shit out of me, man. Thought I fuckin’ broke you.” He shrugs. “So I left.”

They’re quiet for another moment, before Ian breaks the silence.

“Too bad,” he sighs. Mickey looks at him questioningly, and he grins. “If I’d known you were that soft earlier, I might have made a move before you tried to kill me.”

“Uncle Mickey, Uncle Ian!” Franny shouts, interrupting their moment. She runs toward them from the playground, Liam trailing behind her.

Mickey shifts to put both feet back on the ground, leaning forward to catch her as she barrels into his legs for the second time that day.

“What up Little Red?” he asks, but she’s too busy poking at the tattoos on his hand to respond.

He looks up when Liam answers instead. “Time to go back,” Liam says, “I gotta finish that workbook tonight.”

“Says who?” Mickey asks, and Liam rolls his eyes.

“Says me, because I don’t want to do it tomorrow,” he responds, and Mickey mumbles nerd under his breath, but obediently stands and hoists Franny up onto his hip.

“Nooo, Uncle Ian!” she cries, wriggling, and Mickey scoffs as Ian reaches over to take her with a shit-eating grin.

“Fine, take her,” Mickey says, “we all know I’m still the favorite.”

It’s Ian’s turn to roll his eyes, turning to carry Franny back toward the house. Liam follows behind them, but Mickey lingers.

He looks out over the playground again. He’s been there more in the last two years than he ever had been as a child, sat on that bench with Ian and run through the woodchips with Franny and even pushed Fred on the baby swings once. The kid had smiled up at him like he was the king of the world, even fucking reached for him after. It was a far cry from the days he prowled the edges, selling drugs and spotting targets for his pops. Even farther from the days he had wandered back on his own when his mom wasn’t there, just hoping to catch sight of that splash of fire-red again.

“Hey Mick!” the owner of that red hair calls from behind him. “You coming?”

Mickey smiles. He casts one more look over everything, then turns. Ian is waiting for him, Franny in his arms, Liam at his side, and Mickey goes to them. They know the way home, but he’ll walk it with them anyway.

#daily speedwrite #fic request #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #franny gallagher #liam gallagher #don't worry this one is happier #everything's fine now Mickey is fine #he's happy and he has a family and he can ruffle Ian's hair all he wants #fanfic

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maladaptiv3 · 4 years

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Good Fit

((couldn’t decide which picture I liked better))

Content: request from anon - “Could I request meeting Colson for the first time through Pete? Like knowing Pete since before and meeting Colson at a party hosted by Pete and getting along right away?”

Warnings: Smut!! Swearing!!

Word Count: 3,168 (I got carried away)

*original content by colsonbakes*

You had grown up on the east coast but recently relocated to Los Angeles for a publishing job. Fortunately, every few weeks or so, you would find yourself back in your old stomping grounds to meet with the executives of the New York offices. Whenever you touched down in New York, you would make it a point to catch up with Pete. You had known Pete for a while; you two met when you were working as a publishing assistant for Vogue. You two remained close friends, even after you left for LA. The weekend you happened to be in town was the same night as the premiere party he was hosting for his new movie, Big Time Adolescence. Your meeting had ended early on that Thursday afternoon and you met Pete for dinner. You checked out of your hotel and decided to stay with Pete for the rest of the weekend. You were looking forward to seeing him, but you knew that this party was his perfect opportunity to try and set you up with one of his friends, again. You appreciated his efforts but despite the fact he was one of your closest friends, he had the worst grasp on the type of guy you usually go for. It wasn’t long into after-dinner cocktails that he floated the idea of a setup, “If you come to the party, I have the perfect guy to set you up with.” You rolled your eyes, “When are you gonna stop trying to set me up with your friends, Pete? It’s never a good fit.” He laughed as the waiter dropped off another round of drinks, “This one will be a good fit.” You just shook your head in disbelief, “I find that hard to believe.”

The party wasn’t until Saturday and that gave you an extra day to lounge around Pete’s place. It was a day of relaxation that you were looking forward to. You spent the morning sleeping in and most of your day reading some potential pieces for publication. Even though it was technically working, it relaxed you to read some new authors. Pete had been out all day finishing a press junket before the release of the film. You liked how quiet his place was and even took advantage of the steam shower he rarely let you use. You ordered some takeout and ended up falling asleep on the couch while watching some Netflix. It wasn’t until the late hours of the night that Pete stumbled through the door, startling you. He half-whispered, half-yelled, “Shit, didn’t mean to wake you. I gotta get my beauty rest for tomorrow.” He managed to make it to his room and you locked the front door behind him, “See you in the morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

The next morning you were woken up by the sun coming in from the blinds that you had forgotten to close the night before. You liked being woken up by the sun, but you were hoping to get a little bit of extra sleep before your long night. You weren’t quite used to going to parties and staying out late, you were more used to book readings and wine while networking. You made your way to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, you always needed a cup in the morning and you knew Pete would probably need one after the night he had. You heard his door creak a bit as he rounded the corner to the kitchen. You handed him his cup of coffee, “You don’t look as bad as I thought you were going to this morning.” He groaned and rubbed his temple, “I’m getting too old to party like that.” You laughed a little as your toast popped out of the toaster, “Does that mean I don’t have to stay out until four in the morning with you tonight?” He began to head back to his room, “Not a chance, the car will be here at 9:30.”

It wasn’t long before 9:30 rolled around and you were struggling to figure out which pair of shoes to wear with your slightly too short black dress. You settled with a pair of black red-bottoms, you couldn’t help but throw on an all-black outfit every time you had a doubt about what to wear. The little black dress was extremely out of your comfort zone, but you had to admit that you looked good and felt confident in it. You and Pete found your way into the black town car and were off to the party. The party wasn’t very far from Pete’s place and you were a bit nervous to walk in. Sometimes Pete’s crowd was a little intimidating, you had such a mundane life compared to theirs and you were often worried that you couldn’t keep up. Pete could sense your hesitation as he waited for you to get out of the car. He offered his hand, “Come on, it’ll be fine.” You took his hand and he helped you up, “Just don’t leave me completely alone to fend for myself.” He winked, “Oh you won’t be alone, I have a friend for you remember?” You groaned and waited for Pete to finish his red carpet appearance.

You walked into the venue and the music was bouncing off the walls. There was so much going on, you couldn’t really figure out what was louder; the music pumping out of the speakers or the voices and laugher of those in attendance. You followed Pete for a few minutes while he introduced you to new people and you caught up with some familiar faces. You had run into an old co-worker from Vogue and decided to spend a good hour catching up with her while Pete went off and entertained his friends. You were just finishing your second drink when your friend tapped the top of your hand, “Don’t look now, but Pete is heading this way with a gorgeous, tall blonde.” You giggled as the alcohol coursed through my veins, “I love gorgeous, tall blonde men.”

You felt Pete tap your shoulder, “Hey, I have someone I want you to meet.” You turned around and were immediately enamored by the stranger’s piercing baby blues. He offered his hand to shake, “I’m Colson. Pete’s told me so much about you. I guess he like really wants us to get together, dude is nuts.” He was wearing a sleeveless red suit that showed off his perfect and completely tatted arms. You took his hand in yours, “Hi, yeah. Hi.” God, what had gotten into you, you were never stunned speechless, especially not by a man, but something about Colson was so intoxicating, even after just meeting him. He noticed your empty cup, “How about I go get us another round of drinks and we ditch Pete?” You smiled back at him, “I like that idea.” He cleared your empty glass off the table, “What are you drinking?” You tucked your hair behind your ear, “A vodka soda with lime would be great.” He beamed, “Coming right up.”

You turned back to Pete, “Not bad.” Pete was pleased with himself, “See, I told you this one would be a good fit.” “We’ve only just met, don’t get ahead of yourself.” He sarcastically shook his head, “You were kind of a nervous mess back there, I think I did pretty well.” You put your hand over your eyes, “Oh God, was it really that bad? Was I super noticeable? I could barely get a word out.” Pete laughed, “It was pretty obvious, but I think Colson was into it. Oh, look he’s coming back.” You felt like a deer in the headlights. He handed you your drink and you nodded back, “Thanks.” He took a slow sip from his whiskey, “It was my pleasure.” The four of you were still awkwardly standing there until you gestured to your friend and Pete, “Why don’t you guys go get yourselves another drink?” Pete grabbed his glass off the table and your friend followed suit, “Okay, yeah, we get it. I can take a hint.”

Colson broke the silence between the two of you, “So, how do you know Pete? You guys seem like super close friends.” You cleared your throat after taking a sip of your drink, “Yeah, we are close. He’s been such a great friend. I actually met him while I was working for Vogue.” He leaned closer to you. You weren’t sure if it was to hear you over the clinking and laughing or as an excuse to just be in closer proximity to you. His tone was quizzical, “Was working for Vogue? What happened?” You appreciated how interested he seemed, “Oh, nothing bad. I relocated to LA for a publishing gig, I’m just here for the weekend.” His face lit up, “No way! I live out in LA too, I was just here for the press tour and premiere.” You mused, “Small world...” He moved a few inches closer to you, “I guess I know why Pete wanted us to meet so bad.” You swallowed hard as his cologne and warmth overwhelmed your senses, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Before you knew it, Pete found you and Colson still talking at the same table, “I’m gonna head out, I got an early morning.” You looked at the time and didn’t even realize it was already after one in the morning, “What? You’re going home before me.” “I know, it’s unbelievable, right?” He and Colson said their goodbyes and he pulled you aside for a minute, “Are you coming home tonight?” You playfully gasped at what he was insinuating, “Hey, I am not that kind of girl. Of course, I am.” He gave you a quick hug and mentioned that the doorman would have the spare key to his place.

You and Colson spent the next half hour or so finishing your drinks and watching the party dwindle. He leaned over and pressed his lips to your ear, “Do you wanna get out of here?” The alcohol coursing through your veins made your skin feel like it was on fire and his lips burned your ear. All you could think about was running your fingers through his blonde locks and sinking your teeth into his collarbone. You nodded, “Yes.” He took you by the hand and you followed closely behind him, trying your best to hide from the flashing lights of the peering cameras. He opened the car door for you and made sure you got in safely before climbing in after you. The second he closed the door and you took notice of the purposefully dark windows, something inside of you just took over. Your head was resting on the back of the seat and you peered over at Colson, his eyes were already fixed on yours. You crashed your lips into his and he pulled you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands had a tight grip on your hips and you were both breathing heavily after finally giving in to the urges you had for hours.

He moved his way down to your neck and your breath hitched as you tried to defend your case, “You know, I don’t usually do this.” He spoke between kisses, “I’ll let it slide this time. Your place or mine?” “Mine.” Your eyes shot open and you pushed his shoulders back with the sudden realization that you were staying with Pete. You slightly sat back onto his thighs, “Fuck, I totally forgot I was staying with Pete.” He leaned up to kiss you again, “Perfect, his place his closer than my hotel anyways.” He shouted Pete’s streets at the driver with a please and thank you. You hungrily reconnected your lips as thoughts of Pete finding you in bed with his best friend flooded your mind. It was clear that was the least of Colson’s worries, but you weren’t so sure you wanted to give Pete that satisfaction. On the other hand, how badly you wanted Colson outweighed any other negative you could muster up.

The car came to an abrupt stop and you two untangled from each other in an attempt to gracefully exit the backseat of the car. Colson made sure to thank the driver before he drove off. You entered the building and walked up to the doorman, “Hi, Pete told me that was going to leave the extra key for me.” The doorman pulled the key out, “Yeah, I just gotta see some ID.” Colson was grabbing at you as you struggled with your wallet, “No problem.” You took the key from the doorman and thanked him before heading to the elevator. Pete lived on the top floor and Colson took advantage of the longer than usual elevator ride. Your back hit the cold wall of the elevator as your arms wrapped around his neck, your plump lips working in unison. The elevator reached Pete’s floor with a ding and you promptly exited into the hallway. You found yourself pressed up against the wall outside of Pete’s apartment while Colson held you in place, pressing one of his hands into your hip while the other was firmly planted on the wall above your head. You slightly pushed his chest to stop and catch your breath, “Someone’s gonna see us.” He nipped at your neck, “Fuck ‘em.” You began to fumble with Pete’s lock as you shushed Colson, beckoning him to not make a sound as you clumsily made your way to the guest room.

You finally found your way through Pete’s dark apartment and slowly and quietly closed the bedroom door. You turned around to find Colson sitting on the bed taking off his shoes. You sat down on the bed next to him. He placed his hand on your thigh and gave it a soft squeeze. You took his hand in yours and pressed a kiss to his palm, “You have nice hands.” He pressed a light kiss to your swollen lips, “You have nice lips.” You stood in front of him and slipped off your heels, his hands settled on your waist as you began to unbutton the front his shirt. You slipped his shirt and vest off him and his toned, colorful chest was mesmerizing. You turned around, “Can you unzip me?” You moved your hair out of the way as his hands fumbled with your zipper and then he slowly pulled it down. You turned back around to face him, your arms still clutching your dress to your body. Colson pulled you into him and tucked your hair behind your ear, kissing you.

Your actions were slow and calculated, nothing like the lust that led to this moment. You let your dress fall, climbing on top of him. He deepened the kiss as you tugged on the waistband of his red suit pants. You unbuttoned and unzipped them as he took the initiative to wiggle out of them. The only thing that was separating you two was the thin material of his Calvin Kleins. You could feel him hardening beneath you as his hands explored every inch of your exposed skin. You palmed him through his briefs, desperate for what was underneath. He sat up taking you with him and reached to the floor, searching for his wallet. You wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself, “What are you looking for?” He finally found his wallet, “Condom.” You pressed your lips to his, “Good call.”

He shifted so that he was now hovering above you. All you could think about was wrapping your legs around his waist and digging your heels into him, so you did. He mused to himself, “Someone’s eager.” You whimpered bashfully. Colson steadied himself using the headboard and slowly pushed into you. You had been craving this feeling since the moment you laid eyes on him. His hips began to move rhythmically as he crashed his lips onto yours, moaning into your mouth. He released his grip from the headboard and his fingers met your core. You tightly squeezed his arm that was now fisting the sheets beneath you. You could fill warmth spreading through your veins as you tingled in anticipation of what was coming. Your hips bucked into his as you felt your high nearing, profanities spilling too loudly from your lips. Colson shoved his fingers into your mouth to silence you, as not to wake anyone. His thrusts were soon jagged with abandon as he fell apart right in front of your eyes. He collapsed on top of you and then moved to your side, pressing a kiss to your flushed forehead, “Fuck.” You pushed his damp hair off his forehead and his eyes almost twinkled in the soft moonlight, “Pete was right, you are a good fit.”

The next morning, you woke before Colson. You weren’t sure what time it was, but the sun was already out and you could hear honking cars on the street below your window. Colson’s hair was unkempt and sticking out in every which way on the pillow. Soft snores left his lips and his chest moved up and down. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired him. You could hear Pete making coffee from the kitchen and figured you would sneak out there before he came in here to find you in bed with Colson. You pulled on a hoodie and your PJ shorts and slowly snuck out of the guest room. Pete was leaning against the counter, almost like he was waiting for you to come out of the room, “Someone got home late last night.” You poured yourself a cup of coffee, “Oh yeah, I had a great time meeting Colson. He was nice to talk to.” Pete raised his eyebrows, “You know, he’s supposed to come over later.” You almost spit out the hot liquid that coated your tongue, “I look forward to seeing him.” Pete took a seat on the couch, “What did you guys end up doing after the party?” You took a seat opposite him, “We just talked.” Pete had a look on his face like he knew something, “I see, I see…” You heard the bedroom door open and muttered under your breath, “Shit.” Colson pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Morning.” He looked over at Pete, “Morning, Pete.” Pete took a sip of his coffee, “Have a good night, Colson?” He shook his head yes. You sat there not really knowing what to do. Colson took a seat next to you pulling your legs into his lap. You all sat there in a weird silence until Pete broke it, “You guys are really bad at sneaking into apartments.” You buried your face into Colson’s neck in embarrassment, “Oh no. I am never going to live this down.” Colson let out a bellowing laugh, “In all fairness, she did tell you she was going to come home last night.”

taking requests

#mgk smut #mgk x reader #mgk imagine #mgk fanfic #mgk #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly writing #colson baker smut #machine gun kelly smut #smut #colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #imagine #blurb #request #estxx

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Klaine one-shot “Artistic Differences” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Kurt and Blaine have known each other all their lives. They've loved each other almost as long. But as Blaine uses his love for Kurt as inspiration for his music, Kurt has yet to reciprocate. And since painting is Kurt's entire world, Blaine is worried about what that might mean for the two of them. (2703 words)

Notes: I had been writing this for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'opinion'. I finally finished it. Wee! XD

Read on AO3.

Baby, you're not alone...

'Cause you're here with me...

And nothing's ever gonna bring us down...

'Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you...

And you know it's true...

It don't matter what'll come to be...

Our love is all we need to make it through...

Blaine stops singing when he notices an echo haunting his lyrics, lingering on the high notes for longer than written. He listens with eyes closed, smiling at his keyboard.

His boyfriend Kurt, humming behind the melody.

Blaine has been ironing this song out for the past three hours now but Kurt hasn't complained once about the constant stopping and starting.

He never does.

Blaine peeks over his shoulder as he continues to play with the harmonies and watches Kurt, focused on the canvas in front of him, swaying to the rhythm of the music, happily sandwiched between his two passions - art and music.

It's a mild and sunny Saturday - a whole day devoted to cleaning up commissions and tying loose ends on weekly projects before their one day off together. Blaine and Kurt share a studio space - normally unheard of for an artist and a musician, but they make it work. It helps that they've known one another for so long that being alone together is the same as being alone with themselves. That also means they get the inside scoop on what the other is working on long before the public does.

And what they're not working on, which has begun to bother Blaine.

Blaine adores everything his talented boyfriend comes up with. Even regarding his more controversial works, there isn't a thing Kurt has painted that Blaine finds objectionable. Kurt puts his heart and soul into every painting, no matter who it's for, and no matter the subject. A writer from Artforum once wrote: "Kurt Hummel goes beyond the veil to showcase not just the external, but the core of every subject - their drives and motivations. It pairs nicely with the transparency of his own soul, which shines through the gouache and the gesso to leave the viewer with a tangible piece."

And therein lies the root of Blaine's problem.

A glance at one of Kurt's canvasses and the world knows everything it needs to about what he loves.

But one subject in particular has gone wholly unrepresented.

“How come you've never painted a portrait of me?” Blaine asks.

"Hmm... what's that, love?" Kurt mutters, switching out brushes, then moving from a blob of Titanium White to a smear of Winsor Blue.

"How come you've never painted a portrait of me?" Blaine rises off his piano bench and relocates to the wooden folding chair behind Kurt's easel in the hopes of pulling his attention a bit. "You've been an artist for as long as I've known you, and I've known you your entire life. But not once have you ever painted a portrait of me."

“Why do I need to? I have you right here," Kurt says, pretending to bop the tip of Blaine's nose with his brush. "Besides, these aren’t personal." His gaze bounces between the three canvases set on easels in an arc in front of him. "They’re bought and paid for.”

"But what about your private stuff? You've shown me your sketchbooks and your digital art files. Unless you have some hidden folder marked 'secret boyfriend art' that I've yet to come across, there's not a single piece of me in any of your work."

Kurt doesn't steer his gaze away from the apple he's adding highlights to to acknowledge his pouty boyfriend, but the corner of his mouth hitches. "If you say so, dear."

"I know so," Blaine grumps, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping back in the chair so hard he nearly topples it over.

"That's your opinion."

"You're evading."

"Is it really so important to you?"

"Yes! It would be nice to be immortalized by my artist boyfriend!"

Kurt snickers. "Are you that much of a narcissist?"

"Your art is important to you! More than that - it's your life! You paint everything that you love! You've made dozens of paintings of Finn, your father, your mother, your Navigator... "

"My Navigator is my baby. It deserves love. I don't get to drive it much living in the city," Kurt defends. "Besides, those paintings I posted on Instagram landed me a huge contract with Lincoln, and that paid for our month-long tryst to Bali. You're welcome, by the way."

"I'm not saying I'm not grateful... " Blaine pauses, the smile on his face a souvenir from thirty straight days of overindulgence in sex and alcohol. "I think I more than proved that on that private beach? Under the moonlight?"

"Yeah, you did," Kurt growls, silently hoping that will be the end of this discussion.

"But... " Blaine picks up and Kurt's heart sinks.

No luck.

"... nowhere am I present in your work. Not that I've seen. Not even in the abstract. And that makes me think... "

"Think what?" Kurt mutters, his playful attitude fading the longer this conversation drags on.

Blaine sighs, realizing how much like a spoiled toddler he sounds. But he's in too deep to stop now. "That you don't expect me to be around long."

Kurt's snicker turns into a full-blown chortle. "We've been together forever! You staked a claim on me in kindergarten! Are you suddenly going somewhere?"

"Can't you take this seriously?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous!"

Blaine huffs. "Great. So my feelings are ridiculous."

"No, Blaine, your feelings are valid. This argument is ridiculous. Believe it or don't, you don't know everything about me. Or my work. What does it matter what I put on a canvas? I told you that I love you! That I would always love you! I tell you over and over and over! Those are my words! My truth! Listen to my truth!"

"B-but what if you change your mind?" Blaine grimaces when that toddler inside him begins throwing an all-out tantrum.

"Then I change my mind!" Kurt groans, slamming his free hand down on an open tube of Dandelion Green, sending a thick ribbon of paint a good four feet. "I'm allowed to change my mind! And so are you! But I don't see that happening!"

"Then why won't you marry me?"

Kurt pulls a face, probably without thinking about it. "Because I'm not very fond of marriage."

"Why not? Your parents had a great marriage! And your father has a wonderful second marriage!"

"But your parents don't have a very good marriage, do they? Nor your older brother, who's been divorced twice already! " Kurt argues, frustration causing him to forget himself and clean his stained hand on the untucked hem of his shirt instead of a rag. That should be a huge red-flag for Blaine to back down, yet he doesn't. Common sense? Sorry, don't know her. "And the national average isn't that great, either. Doesn't it mean more that I choose to stay with you instead of feeling obligated to?"

Blaine doesn't have an answer for that, even though the answer is obviously yes. Of course, it does. And in high school, that would have been enough to shut Blaine up. But admitting to that feels too much like conceding, and this one time, this is an argument he wants to win. "Did you hear that song I've been working on?" Blaine asks, switching gears so quickly, it puts Kurt on edge.

"Yes," Kurt replies, his voice becoming tight quickly. "It's lovely."

"I wrote it for you."

"Thank you. It sounds wonderful. Another huge hit in the making."

"It's the 15th song I've written in your honor."

"Wow," Kurt says dryly, predicting the direction this is heading. "That many?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's an incredibly kind and loving gesture, one that I didn't know required reciprocation."

"It doesn't require reciprocation. But it would be nice."

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine's agenda. Tit for tat. Is that how this is supposed to work? "From what I remember, those songs made you a pretty penny."

"So?"

"So, it's not like you wrote them for me and kept them between us. Most of those songs are chart-toppers."

"But I didn't release them for the money! I wouldn't care if they didn't make me a dime! I put them on the albums because I'm not afraid to let the world know how I feel about you!"

Kurt's brow furrows as he fights through a blooming headache to decode that declaration. Once he gets it, he gasps. "I'm not hiding you away if that's what you're implying! You go with me EVERYWHERE! Every gallery opening, every art show! There have been articles written about our relationship! You're no dirty little secret!"

"I never said I was."

"No?" Kurt chuckles bitterly. "You're sure implying it a great deal!"

"That's not what this is about."

"You're right. It's not. Blaine!" Kurt tosses his brush into a mug of water and starts pacing the floor. "I am a gay artist walking a very fine line."

"I'm a gay artist, too!" Blaine says, offended.

"But you're a musician. And a songwriter. Musicians are supposed to use love as their muse. Writing about your relationship is expected... unless you're Taylor Swift, apparently."

"Yeah. What's up with that?"

Kurt shrugs. "I don't know. The point is that the second I make a piece of art about our relationship in any way, shape, or form, I'm afraid that's all it will be about, no matter what I intend."

"Isn't art supposed to be subject to interpretation?"

"That's just it! If I hint that my art has anything to do with you, that will become the only interpretation. Because too many straight people see the homosexual experience as solely about the right to fuck who we want to fuck and nothing else. I make a portrait about you or dedicated to you, and after that... " Kurt's eyes leave Blaine's face, scanning the room and his canvasses all around for help making his argument. He finds a painting of a forest they hiked through in Bali and stops there "... a tree that I paint will no longer be just a tree. It will become a symbol. In a forest of evergreens, if one needle is slightly browner than the rest because the paint oxidizes weirdly or whatever, then it'll be about you and me on the skids and nothing else. And I don't want that to happen."

Blaine turns in his chair to find the painting Kurt is staring at. On the surface, it's trees, dirt, and sky, but underneath, it's much more than that. That painting of their beloved paradise is perfection - so much so that he can feel the sun on his face, the breeze kissing his cheek, smell the sunscreen on his skin. "I understand what you're saying, but... "

"But?" Kurt grinds out between his teeth. This is the frustrating thing about arguing with Blaine. Even when he says he sees Kurt's point of view, he doesn't seem to really.

And when he's not winning, he gets dismissive.

"... I think you're overthinking things a little."

"And you're not?"

"Another evade," Blaine says, pointing at him in a way reminiscent of his brother's only acting technique.

Kurt grabs the hair at his temple and pulls to keep from flinging the palette in his hand like a frisbee at Blaine's head. "Isn't it more important that you know how I feel about you? You inspire me every day! Your love, your support, your music - they feed my soul! But do I have to plaster it on a wall to make it real?"

"That's kind of an empty question because you don't! There are no paintings of me! Not even in our apartment! And I'm sorry, but I think that's very telling!"

Kurt nods, his lips pulled taut. "You're right, Blaine. Not one. And it is very telling." He drops his palette on his work table and circles the room, grabbing finished canvases and carrying them over. He positions them purposefully, placing some under UV lights he has mounted to runners on the ceiling.

"What... what are you doing?" Blaine asks with worry, wondering if Kurt is about to do something hasty, something that will ruin his paintings, waste all those hours of work, jeopardize the money he has yet to collect for them.

Kurt doesn't answer.

He doesn't even look at him.

He works silently, his shoulders rigid, his footsteps heavy as he collects paintings Blaine forgot about, paintings that had made Blaine bristle because they were of places they had been to together, things they had made a point to see only with each other, but not a one included him. Those Kurt flips upside down.

He swipes a squeeze bottle of clear liquid from his army of supplies. It could be water. It could be paint thinner. Blaine doesn't know, but he's not certain he wants to find out. He's about to leap off his seat to stop him, but Kurt switches off the overhead lights, turns on the UVs, and Blaine stops. He watches in horror as Kurt douses the flipped canvases in fluid, but the paint doesn't run. Whatever is in that bottle, it sticks, but only in certain areas, and before it dries completely, Kurt dusts the paintings with a fine powder, one that brings hidden images to life beneath the lights.

“Oh my God,” Blaine mutters, stepping back to get a better look.

Every painting, in one way or another, is of him. Of them. And not just recently. There are images of them from college, high school... middle school. There are profiles of Blaine in the negative space between flowers of one painting, and in the clouds of another. A fluorescent image of teenaged him playing guitar to a silhouette of Kurt sitting beside him. There are shadows of them dancing, singing, even a daring one of them making love up against a wall.

And the flipped landscapes? Their vacation pictures, as it were? The glowing dust reveals portraits hiding in plain sight, painted upside down and invisible to the naked eye. All of these images, Kurt painted in ways where no one would detect them if they weren't looking for them. If they didn't know they were there.

And they are in every. single. one.

Now that he's seen this, it's safe to assume all of Kurt's works carry similar Easter eggs, even paintings long gone.

"Why... why didn't you tell me about this?" Blaine asks, too stuck on stupid to move, walk from painting to painting and examine them properly.

"Why did I need to? I love you. I've told you. What else did I need to prove?"

Blaine shakes his head slowly, ashamed of himself. What an imbecile he is! Kurt is absolutely right. He loves him! He didn't need to prove it! The hurt Blaine felt - that was on him. It wasn't Kurt's responsibility to fix it. There isn't a day that goes by where Kurt doesn't show his love to Blaine in one way or another. Blaine didn't need this. He really didn't.

And right now, he doesn't feel he deserves it.

On a side note, how wrapped up in his own crap has he been that here, in this space that they share, where proximity has forced Kurt to memorize every song Blaine has been writing for his latest album while he paints, that he never realized just how frickin' talented his boyfriend is!?

"Kurt... " Blaine finally finds the strength to take a step forward, drawn to that ghostly image of them making love. It's a simple shadow of the moment, but it evokes a powerful memory "... these are incredible. How did you... ?" Blaine expects an answer before he can finish. Kurt is rarely shy about discussing his work.

Though Blaine should use this opening to his advantage - apologize since those should have been the first words out of his mouth.

But he gets nothing.

"Kurt?" Blaine looks over his shoulder in search of his boyfriend, ready to make amends.

But Kurt is gone.

#klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #klaine #blangst

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

❄️ Untamed Winter Fest 2019 ❄️

Day 26 - Surprise - 2.2k

More Xicheng from my Jiang Family AU - the story leads on from Day 2, Day 4 and Day 21 if you missed them.

“Brother”

Lan Xichen could still catch hints of Jiang Wanyin’s scent from the shirt he wore, and that, and the fact the new photograph of them in front of a Christmas tree sat on his desk and within his eyeline kept him well and truly distracted; something he’d never had a problem with at work in the past.

“Brother” Wangji’s voice was sharper than normal, and it caught his attention this time.

“Hmm? Sorry. I was thinking about something”

“Someone” Wangji corrected him patiently.

“Someone” he allowed, and brought his attention back to the tablet in front of him which held the data he should have digested and discussed with Wangji by now. He hadn’t.

“We should do this tomorrow” Wangji locked his own tablet, “Are you alright?” considering Xichen had never been like this before he was in his rights to be worried.

“Yes Wangji, I’m fine, just-” he paused when he remembered who Wangji’s spouse was. One thing he’d never wanted to do when he’d started this relationship with Wangji’s brother-in-law was put him in the middle, he didn’t want to cause any conflict in his marriage.

“Brother, you can talk to me. I don’t tell everything to Wei Ying”

“Really?” Lan Xichen asked in amusement, his eyebrows arching up.

“No, not really. But I won’t tell him something you tell me in confidence. You’re my brother and I can listen to your problems”

Lan Xichen felt a smile pull at his lips, “I am genuinely fine Wangji, just a little overcome. Jiang Wanyin’s gift was especially touching; he told me he loved me”

He didn’t need to explain why that was momentous, they both knew Jiang Wanyin well enough.

“And I’m ninety-nine percent sure he was going to ask me to move in” Lan Xichen continued, watching his brother’s face for those minute tells he’d always been the only one who could pick up.

There it was, just the tiniest movement at the corner of his mouth; “You think we’re moving too fast?” Lan Xichen asked in interest.

A very slight flare of the nostrils as he prepared to respond.

“That’s hardly for me to say. I just worry you weren’t long out of your last relationship. I don’t want either of you to be hurt”

He had to remind himself his brother only wanted him happy; so he swallowed the irritated denial he had been about to make. And that he’d been about to snap at Lan Wangji was indicative in itself of how protective he was of his relationship with Jiang Wanyin.

“I don’t think I will be. At least not for that reason. And I hope I won’t hurt Wanyin. I’m going to be the one to ask him to live together, instead”

Whatever his brother thought to that he kept it to himself.

Whilst Lan Xichen was eager to discuss the next stage of their relationship with Wanyin his plan also meant he had to wait a while as he put everything in place.

***

Jiang Cheng was starting to wonder what he’d done wrong as he stared down at the latest rejection text from Lan Xichen.

It had been nearly four weeks since he’d started offering excuses for why he couldn’t come over this evening or that evening, why he didn’t want to go to the cinema, or for drinks or dinner and they’d barely seen each other.

Honestly he’d thought admitting that he loved Lan Xichen had gone well, the other had seemed genuinely happy. And then had consistently backed away from Jiang Cheng like he had the plague. Or Lan Xichen had a guilty secret. Or was having second thoughts.

Had Jiang Cheng so completely and utterly misread the room?

It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility; whilst he had been in relationships before they had all been relatively short lived so he wasn’t greatly experienced. Before it had always gotten to the point where the other person just couldn’t cope with his snark, or his emotional distance, or his temper. In fact his last girlfriend had told him to just do everyone else a favour and stay out of the market because he was a nightmare. That had been great for his self-confidence.

Lan Xichen seemed perfectly able to deal with his temper and snark, and due to the fact Jiang Cheng really liked him and felt they had a serious shot at this relationship business he’d worked hard on the emotional distance problem; he was inexperienced but he was well aware love would wither and die if it didn’t receive nourishment from the object of it.

Had he literally put himself out of his comfort zone to get dumped? Had it been too little too late?

He only just managed to quell the urge to throw his mobile across the room in temper. He felt trapped, confused; he wanted to ask Lan Xichen what the hell was going on, but he was such a fucking coward, so scared that would be the thing to tip the scales against him he daren’t.

He’d been so wrapped up in his chaotic thoughts he’d forgotten Wei Wuxian and his family were coming over that evening until he heard the door buzzer. Jiang Cheng had agreed to put him a catalogue together for his latest Gallery showing so they’d decided to combine the meeting and dinner. They’d grabbed take out on the way over and A-Yuan ran around excitedly helping his uncle to set the table.

***

It was later when Wei Wuxian cornered him in the kitchen, “No Lan Xichen tonight?” he asked out of interest, carefully watching Jiang Cheng’s face.

“Well you’re a subtle as a sledgehammer aren’t you?” Jiang Cheng asked in irritation.

“My baby brother is down in the dumps” Wei Wuxian caught his face and pinched his cheeks, “of course I’m going to stick my nosey nose in”

“Are you trying to get stabbed?” Jiang Cheng pushed him away and punched him in the arm, and thus commenced a tit for tat exchange reminiscent of their childhood.

Once they’d suitably bruised each other a little Wei Wuxian caught his shoulder and became serious.

“But you are, what’s wrong?”

Jiang Cheng was rarely ever honest about his feelings, but Wei Wuxian could also read him like a book so it was probably pointless to try and deflect.

So he told him about Lan Xichen being less and less interested in meeting up in the last few weeks and how crappy it was making him feel.

“He might be busy at work. Lan Zhan is having a rough time too. You could just ask him of course”

“No, you could just ask him, I can’t because I’m an emotional coward and I’m way too scared it’ll tip him over the edge into detesting me. I’m not exactly the loveable Wei Wuxian” Wei Wuxian looked a little frustrated at those words, but it wasn’t like he could do anything to change Jiang Cheng’s self-confidence; he and Yanli had tried for years with no luck.

Instead he said, “Do you know what, you’re right. I could just ask him” and he grabbed Jiang Cheng’s mobile from off the counter top and dashed out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Jiang Cheng was mortified as he chased after him, banging on the bathroom door in frenzy.

Unfortunately for him he was fully aware A-Yuan was in the apartment, playing on Jiang Cheng’s games console while Lan Wangji watched him, so he couldn’t give vent to what burned on the back of his tongue.

“Honestly, if you don’t get out here and give me that phone back and have touched nothing you are going to be very, very sorry, Wei Wuxian” he snarled quietly through the door. The door opened a few minutes later and Wei Wuxian tossed him the phone back.

“Too late, everything’s sorted. We’re going to go now, it’s nearly A-Yuan’s bedtime”

It spoke of how chaotic life in the Jiang family could be that neither A-Yuan nor Lan Wangji had paid any attention to the drama between the two brothers.

They bundled up and left and Jiang Cheng clutched the mobile phone to his chest for a few minutes more before working up his courage and opening the messages.

7.04pm

Jiang Cheng:

Is everything OK? We haven’t spent much time together recently and I miss you.

7.05pm

Lan Xichen:

?? Are you drunk, Wanyin?

I’m OK, everything’s OK. I’m just snowed under with a project currently.

I’m sorry, I know I’m neglecting you terribly.

I miss you too, (though seriously, have you been drinking?)

7.06pm

Jiang Cheng:

Maybe. It’s the lengths we neglected boyfriends sometimes go to for attention.

7.06pm

Lan Xichen:

Go sleep it off, dork.

Let’s get together Saturday and spend the whole day with each other, OK?

My place.

7.07pm

Jiang Cheng:

Yes please!

Jiang Cheng honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to die from embarrassment or faint from relief.

***

It was Saturday. Again, a Jiang Cheng who in the past wouldn’t even have cared if he wore sackcloth had paid careful attention to his outfit, picked out dark jeans and his favourite purple jumper, (because it was Lan Xichen’s favourite purple jumper), and he felt positive as he stood on Lan Xichen’s doorstep and rang the bell.

Xichen opened the door; he looked a little worn, and nervous. The latter made Jiang Cheng nervous, his positivity seeping away.

Was this an ambush he hadn’t seen coming?

Lan Xichen pulled him inside and folded him into a tight hug, burying his nose into Jiang Cheng’s hair and breathing deeply.

“I missed this” he said as Jiang Cheng allowed him a minute’s grace.

Oddly it was Lan Xichen who pulled away first.

“OK I need to do this now because I don’t know how long the toy will keep her occupied” he said to Jiang Cheng’s confusion.

Lan Xichen pressed something into his hand and let out a whistle. There was an excited clatter of soft paws and toenails scraping on wood as something dashed out of the kitchen.

It was a marshmallow with four legs. One who fumbled to a stop in front of Jiang Cheng as he realised the other held a treat.

Jiang Cheng was no less confused, but he lowered to his haunches to give the treat to the young dog, and noted the card tied to the collar around his neck.

It was written on in Lan Xichen’s neat, graceful script.

Will you live with us and help look after me?

His knees went and he landed on his backside as the surprise melted his bones; the white puppy thought it was an excellent game and jumped on his chest to try and lick his face.

“Snowdrop, sit” Lan Xichen ordered, and the puppy looked almost apologetically at Jiang Cheng before following the command, tail wagging as Lan Xichen bent to reward her obedience with a treat.

“Jiang Wanyin?” he reached down a hand to pull Jiang Cheng to his feet.

He took it and let Lan Xichen tug him upright; he looked into his gaze and realised the other was actually quite tense.

He was waiting for Jiang Cheng’s answer and he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that answer would be.

Perhaps because he’d not given one yet.

Well good, Jiang Cheng had been out of his mind for weeks because of Lan Xichen had seemed like he was avoiding him.

Served him right.

Except he really wanted to give Lan Xichen his answer, because he’d almost asked the other the same, only he’d backed out at the last minute. He was very sure it was what he wanted, so he nodded, almost shyly, “Yes, lets move in together and give Snowdrop a home”

***

They took Snowdrop to the park to give her a long walk and use up her enormous reserves of puppy energy.

“She’s around seven months old they told me at the shelter. She was mostly house trained but I’ve had to spend some time training her for other things, like staying, or sitting”

“So you virtually ghosting me was because you were busy with puppy obedience school?” whilst it had all turned out so much better than Jiang Cheng had hoped there was still that part of him that was angry he’d been made to feel like unwanted trash again.

Lan Xichen didn’t mock him, “I’m sorry Wanyin. I just wanted to be able to ask you as soon as possible, and I got caught up in trying to make it happen as quickly as I could. Forgive me?”

Jiang Cheng nudged him with his shoulder a little roughly, “Jerk. You’re lucky I like you”

“I am. You make me feel like the luckiest man in the world Jiang Wanyin. I know how much pressure you put yourself under for me, never ever think I don’t see that and appreciate it”

Jiang Cheng felt his face flame, honestly, would the things this man said ever stop surprising him?

#untamed winter fest #shay's stuff #day 26 #xicheng #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian being chaotic as usual #lan wangji being pragmatic as usual #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfic #mdzs #the untamed #Jiang family AU

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rangoatemybabynsfw · 5 years

Note

Lance goes to get a tattoo on his upper inner thigh at a seedy-looking tattoo parlor. The visit ends with him being sucked off by the hot tattoo artist, Keith.

Oh nice! I’ma tweak this a little though because sucking dick at a first meeting is a little too fast for me haha. This has all the makings of a great one shot or three chapter fic. It’s a little long but enjoy!

It’s impulsive but he’s always wanted a tattoo. But where to go? None of his friends have tattoos so he doesn’t know where to go. There’s a parlor downtown. He’s about to go in when someone coughs to get his attention.

“First tattoo?” they ask.

He’s hot. A guy in leather with wild tussled black hair. Leaning on a motorcycle. Lance looks him up and down more than once which he relaizes belatedly when the guy gives him a interested smirk himself.

“I uh…Yeah, how’d you know?” Lance asks.

“Because you’re thinking about going in there,” he snorts. “You know this place is bacteria city right? You’ll be lucky if you don’t leave with tetanus.”

“Fucking seriously?” Lance blinks wide and stops leaning on the window. “Is there…a better place? A cleaner one?”

“Sure is,” he nods. “Here,” he says and hands Lance a card. Lords and Lions Tattoo Parlor. “Ask for Keith. He’ll treat you right. And you won’t regret it.”

At that, the owner of the tattoo place comes out and starts yelling at the stranger. Something about scalping his customers and to get lost. The handsome stranger just flips him the bird and gets on his bike. He sends a wink Lance’s way before revving his engine and taking off. The seedy looking parlor guy asks Lance if he wants to come in. That he’ll give him a discount if he throws away that asshole’s business card. Lance remembers what the stranger said about tetanus and bacteria and suddenly remembers he has a place to be so he tells the guy maybe another time.

He spends all week thinking about his tattoo. Lords ad Lions Tattoo Parlor card still in his jacket. He finally goes a week later.

The place is significantly nicer looking than the other place. When he goes in it looks like a doctors office. Clean floors. Separate rooms for each artist and customer. There’s a girl sitting at the counter browsing through a magazine (PIDGE) but she puts it down when he approaches.

“Name?”

“Oh, I don’t…have an appointment,” Lance says sheepishly. “I got this card and uh…I was told to ask for Keith?”

“Just a sec,” she says and hits a button into an intercom. “Keith you got a walk in. What should I do with him?”

“Almost done. Be there in a sec,” says a distorted yet vaguely familiar voice. “Tell him to flip through my portfolio.”

She directs him to some couches and he opens the binder labeled Keith Book 1. It’s all amazing of course. Skilled work. Pricey but more than worth it. Lance is so entranced by a shoulder piece of a roaring lion that he doesn’t realize someone is leading over the back of the couch until he speaks.

“Like that one, huh?” says that familiar voice. “I’ve done that one twice now.”

Lance turns and it’s the guy. The one that rescued him from bacteria hell. He’s in a red tank and his arms are covered in tattoos. He’s got a name tag that says ‘Hello! I’m Keith!’ Lance blinks and stares for a moment longer making Keith snort out a short laugh.

“So…” Keith starts, looking him over. “Guess you took my advice. No seedy tetanus tattoos.”

“N-No,” Lance stammers but then quickly composes himself. “So you…you’re Keith? You recommended yourself to do my tattoo? Isn’t that a little…arrogant?”

“Only if I can’t put my money where my mouth is,” Keith smirks and Lance flushes at the insinuation. “Find anything you like in there?”

“Well…I’m a Leo so…” Lance mumbles as he looks at the lion tattoo again. “But uh, this color’s not my style. Can you…do it in blue? Maybe add some…crashing waves?”

Keith chuckles and stands up straight. He’s doing that thing that Lance was doing only a week before, sizing him up. Brings more flushing heat to Lance’s cheeks. He smirks down on Lance with a hand on his hip.

“I can do anything you’d like,” he says suggestively. He then gestures Lance over to the desk. “But let’s start by making you an appointment. Pidge hand me the book. And also, take five minutes.”

“For fuck’s–yeah, alright. I’ll get lost,” she huffs. “Try not to drool on the counter ‘Leo’,” she adds and steps outside.

Once they’re alone Keith gives him another smirk as he twirls a pen. He licks the tip and brings it down to the book.

“Name?”

“L-Lance,” he stutters out. “Lance McClain.”

“And what’s a good date for you McClain?” Keith asks. Lance knows he means for the tattoo but the spark in his eye suggests something else entirely.

“Next…Saturday?” Lance says. “I’m free the whole day.”

“Free on Saturday,” Keith nods but doesn’t even look down at the appointment book. “And what about Sunday? Free then too?” he asks with a knowing look.

“Uh…y-yeah, I don’t have anything planned,” Lance admits.

“You do now,” Keith says as he scribbles into the appointment book. “Sunday for the tattoo will work great. Set you up with an early appointment so we can work out the size and style and such of your tat. Then if you decide you want it right then we can start. Otherwise, we reschedule for another day.”

“Uh…why not Saturday?” Lance blinks confused.

“You’re busy Saturday. You have a date,” Keith says and reaches over to take his hand. Scribbles down a number in his palm slow and purposeful. “Like I said…I can do anything you’d like.”

“O-Oh?” Lance flushes, looking at the number.

“Text me,” Keith smirks. “We can talk about your tattoo. And possible places for it,” he adds with a wink.

#Rango answers #Klance #Tattoo AU #Lots of flirting

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arigatouiris · 5 years

Text

head over heels // b.b — 02

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; mentions of drug abuse and explicit sexual references; mentions of anxiety, depressive thoughts, suicide, post-traumatic stress; fluff [in later chapters]

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Word count: 1875

Author’s Note: Thank you all for getting back to me! And this chapter reveals more than one can think~

Those who want to be on the tag-list, do send me an ask~

02. kindness

✿

Never, in her service at BlueBells’ Cafe in the past six years, had any customer been rude to (y/n). It was just fortunate how everyone who walked in were kind to her, or either they were in too much of a hurry to not be rude. They came along, took their coffees and left, and her smile always made it easier for them to like her service and keep coming again. However, on Saturdays or Sundays, sometimes, grumpy customers do make an appearance.

When grumpy customers come in, (y/n) had the best way to handle them. She’d be extra nice, which was her specialty, and she’d give them a small free treat. An unnoticed action that had gone so well in the past few years, and she was grateful that she never got into trouble.

However, that Sunday morning, (y/n) had made a mistake. Everyone made mistakes, and she never quite understood why people blamed themselves when they did make a mistake. Errors are what made human beings fascinating, and considering the mistakes she had made in the past, not placing the lid properly on the coffee mug was comparatively less grave. The man who had ordered her coffee seemed like he was in a hurry, but just as he grabbed the cup, even before she was done placing the lid, (y/n)’s eyes widened and a gasp escaped her lips.

“Sir—”

The coffee spilled onto the ground, earning looks from everyone already in the cafe. Including a certain brown haired coffee addict, who sat by himself at one of the far corner tables. Bucky’s eyes wandered to the coffee on the ground, and how the man in front of it, although unharmed, was now glaring at the kind barista.

“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll make you another one.”

“How dare you! What if I was hurt?”

(y/n) stared at the man and blinked, “I’ll have this cleaned right away, and I’ll make you your coffee before that. I do apologize—”

“Listen here, bitch,” (y/n)’s eyes turned to stone as he used the word. Bucky’s ears perked up, “I want to speak to your manager.”

On other occasions, Bucky would never allow himself to be seated when a barista is being yelled at for no actual fault of their own; he had seen what happened, how the man pulled the cup away even before she had placed the lid properly on to it. And being rude to a barista was simply wrong. Bucky knew, however, that if he went up and helped her, he would be acknowledging that he knew (y/n) better than her being just a barista.

She is, he thought bitterly, staring at his now empty cup of coffee, She is just a barista.

“I want to speak to your manager!” He screamed, and Bucky felt his grip tighten on the cup.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re actually more of an egalitarian community with no rigid hierarchy. Whatever it is you want to tell the manager, you can tell me. I’ll be happy to help.” (y/n) smiled sweetly, before placing another cup of fresh coffee (with the lid intact this time).

The grumpy man grabbed the cup and walked off, and seeing how there was no one standing in line for a new order, or anyone entering the cafe, (y/n) went inside to get the cleaning essentials to clean the mess on the floor. Bucky was surprised with her reply to the man, wondering how women these days were bolder; not that he hadn’t seen bold women in the past. (y/n) never looked like someone who would reply snarkily, however, he was more than happy that she had. Bucky hated feeling relieved after learning that she was safe, even in her own devices, because this feeling only insinuated that he cared for her to an extent.

After cleaning the mess, (y/n) sat back on her stool in front of the counter, and continued reading. As if suddenly remembering that Bucky was in the cafe, she turned to him with wide eyes and offered him a kind smile—one of her kindest ones—which, Bucky returned halfway.

She approached him with the coffee mug and the cream cup, with the smile intact.

“Are you alright, doll?”

He hadn’t planned on asking her that. Sometimes, our mouths get the better of us.

“Absolutely. Another cup, Bucky?”

It was strange to Bucky on how she barely ever spoke about herself to him. She barely spoke to him, which Bucky knew was a good thing, but he wasn’t too comfortable with it. He couldn’t help but become curious about her, he couldn’t help but think what her deal was and why it was so easy for her to let him pass as a regular customer, even when he knew he had almost hit her the other day and she had dodged miraculously.

She poured him another up and stilled for a second. Bucky watched her and didn’t realize that she wasn’t smiling, and how her lips were slightly parted, how there were bags under her eyes and how up close, her hair wasn’t well kept. She looked sleep deprived, almost dehydrated even, and he couldn’t focus on either of these characteristics. However, what he did notice were her eyes.

They were hollow and empty.

Bucky’s eyes widened when she shifted her gaze to him, blinking a couple of times before revealing to him a stirrer she had brought along. She smirked again, making Bucky almost forget that she didn’t look okay, and began to draw on his cup.

“You don’t mind that I draw these horrible things on your coffee, do you?”

Bucky couldn’t find the words to answer. He answered with a chuckle, and felt his hands turn sweaty. He didn’t need to notice these things about her; he barely knew anything about her, he didn’t need to, he didn’t deserve to. Clearing his throat, he thought of a reply.

“I enjoy them. You’re very kind.”

She giggled a second later, “Oh, no. I’m just doing my job, Bucky.”

He didn’t know how much she meant those words. Twirling on her feet after the job was done, she went ahead three steps before pausing. Bucky watched her as she stilled, confused, and waited. Her shoulders went up and down, indicating she had taken a long breath, and (y/n) turned to face Bucky, no smile this time. His eyes were wide the whole time.

“It’s on the house, Buck.” She had never called him ‘Buck’ before.

“Why?” His voice was a whisper.

She giggled, “The wonderful thing is, it’s so incredibly easy to be kind. Always makes me feel better. It’s tit for tat.”

Bucky couldn’t respond in time with her scurrying off to her stool at the counter. Tit for tat? For what? He couldn’t understand. Staring at his new coffee cup, he noticed that there was another picture, a badly drawn bug like thing, which was perhaps a butterfly?

“I tried to make a butterfly. I’m pretty sure you think it doesn’t look like one.” Came her voice.

Bucky chuckled, “It definitely doesn’t. Who gave you art lessons?”

(y/n) laughed and Bucky smiled. A half smile. He had been smiling half-smiles a lot ever since he met (y/n). He wasn’t too sure if he liked it, but he certainly looked forward to them. After another cup of coffee, it was time for him to leave. Bucky walked over to her and offered to pay, causing her to look at him with a deadpan. Bucky clicked his tongue and saw her waive off his bill, gesturing him to leave in a comical manner.

“You want me to leave that badly, doll?”

She looked up at him and acknowledged his flirting, “Of course,” Bucky feigned a pained expression just as she said, “So that I can look forward to you coming in tomorrow.”

He stared at her and gulped once, learning that she had flirted back. She tilted her head sideways a bit before giggling at him. And she stopped a second after. She let out what seemed like a mix between a sigh and a regular breath and shook her head slightly.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

“You didn’t. I’m sorry if I did—”

“We should both stop apologizing to one another so much, Bucky.”

Bucky smiled another half-smile. He leaned against the counter and looked at her face. He took a good long look at the only person who was being kind to him not because he was the Winter Soldier.

There was no pity in her gaze. Just plain kindness.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, doll.” His voice was low, and his eyes didn’t leave hers.

She couldn’t look away from the screaming from his eyes. However, just when he told her he’d see her tomorrow, they stopped. For a nanosecond, Bucky’s eyes ceased their screaming and just paused. Her eyes widened, and her face turned slightly red, a change that Bucky noticed. He cleared his throat and nodded once before turning to leave.

“I’ll try drawing a wolf tomorrow.”

Bucky chuckled as he exited the cafe, his heart full of something. He knew he wouldn’t turn up the next day. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to become familiar to her, to someone who has been nothing but kind. She was fragile where he was not, she was kind where he was not, she was soft where he was not.

She was everything Bucky once thought he could dream of being, but here he was, desperately trying to run from it.

I’m a monster, he thought as he walked to his new apartment, ready to start the grind on repeat, pushing away the thought of a barista who was bad at art.

✿

As the door closed, the sound of the chime caused her smile to fall. (y/n)’s face was back to being what it always was—an unsmiling, rigid and nonchalant passiveness settled on an expressionless face. She sat on her stool and pretended to read, wondering why her mind was worried about a man’s screaming eyes.

She mustn’t care about Bucky; and if she did, if at all her heart went beyond the passiveness into an area that showed a tad bit of concern, she would stay away from him. If there was care, then she’d absent herself. Because she knew what happened to those she cared about.

I’m a monster, she thought, taking a sharp intake of breath. There’s no use pushing this away. She was running away from something that made no sense to her anymore, but yet, fear always prevented her from facing certain truths. And it didn’t matter now, since the people who could make her recall about those truths were no more. There was a reason to her smiling face, a reason so heartbreaking she knew that no one deserved to know.

She is kind because she knew that was not who she was. She could never be kind, kindness was not her. This was penance. Penance for a past that would haunt her till the end of time.

What hurt her most about her past was how flowers were permanently ruined for her.

✿

series taglist:

@miamua-posts @yourwonderbelle @kissingg-incars @tanya-diggory @s-0-ldat @iheartsebastianstan @taliarosej00 @coraz0ndcristal @vlogsquadbss @azriels-forgotten-shadow @gogoca @undiadeestos @justtrynagetthroughlife

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fantasyfandommaiden · 5 years

Text

ML Counsellor AU: Nooroo’s Session

When a butterfly appears in Carmine’s apartment not even three days after she is Akumatized, she decides (perhaps foolishly) to take a very dangerous risk and allow it to approach her.

[[MORE]]

Carmine had been Akumatized in Thursday, and it was now late Saturday night. Her precious friends had not left her side for a moment, and had all come over uninvited Thursday night and hadn’t left. A movie was being played on the TV but no one was watching it because with the exception of Carmine, everyone was asleep.

Nathalie and Thistle had fallen asleep on the love seat, Nathalie with her head on Thistle lap, and Thistle letting out a soft snore as she slept. Lloyd was sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world, well Blaine was fast asleep on the floor, snoring periodically (the man had stated he could sleep anywhere...). Each person had a blanket on top of them, curtesy of Carmine as Gladiolus the ferret turned off the TV, glancing out to the balcony where Carmine sat, a large mug of tea in her hands as she stared out at the night sky of Paris.

She didn’t know how she felt about being Akumatized. She honestly didn’t remember much of it, bits and pieces at most, which surprised her. From her research of the previous victims, none of them seemed to have any recollection of being Akumatized, but she remembered some things....

Her magic trying to push the akuma out of her ring, trying to prevent the man from taking over her mind and body. She remembered briefly running into Nathalie, and how mad she was, but could not remember why. She remembered trying to stop herself from taking Chat’s ring, and she remembered Chloe breaking her finger to get her ring off.

That last memory made her shutter, but she had to admit, it was extremely clever, and she had told Chloe as much before she had been whisked away by Nathalie for a very impromptu long weekend. She still remembered Nathalie calling Gabriel, very annoyed and telling him she was taking two paid vacations days and if he didn’t like it, too bad. She was very proud of her best friend.

She sipped her tea, sighing as she was deep in thought, noticing movement out of the corner of her eye she glanced over, thinking it was Gladiolus but felt her entire body freeze in terror before abruptly standing up at the sight of the butterfly just hoovering not even three feet from her.

She backed up TIL her back was to the glass door, looking at the butterfly in a panic, expecting it to dart at her, however, as if sensing her fear, it backed off a few feet but remained close. Carmine also noted, that unlike most akuma’s, this butterfly was a light purple colour, unlike the inky black they usual were.

Was Hawkmoth trying a new strategy? If she willingly touched an akuma, could he control her more easily?

The butterfly wasn’t moving away, still fluttering about four feet away from her, it almost seemed... anxious? Apologetic? Carmine couldn’t get a good read on it... her curiosity was getting the better of her as she glanced behind her, seeing that her friends were still fast asleep.

Carmine glanced back at the butterfly, still fluttering not to far from her. This was possibly one of the most reckless ideas she ever had, and she was chewed on a piece of magic cheese that nearly turned her into a giant piece of ice.

She walked back to her chair, sitting down as she took of the necklace she always wore. It was a simple silver locket that she inherited from her grandmother, it was special, however it was the only thing she had on her that if needed, she could throw it away and get the akuma as far from her body as possible.

She looked at the butterfly, slowly bringing her hand out, presenting the locket and waited. The butterfly, as if sensing the invitation, slowly, as if trying to be as non-threatening as possibly, fly to the locket, becoming absorbed into the metal as Carmine saw the butterfly mask appear in front of her face, and a presence enter her mind.

The presence didn’t speak at first, which Carmine found confusing, looking around her balcony as if expecting to see Hawkmoth.

“... Hello?” She said hesitantly, not really expecting a reply back, she was surprised to hear one, however it didn’t sound or feel like Hawkmoth.

“Greetings, I apologize for speaking to you this late... I expected you to be asleep.” The voice stated. It didn’t sound entirely... human. It kind of reminded her of Tikki or Plagg- her eyes widened as she realized who she was talking too.

“... your not Hawkmoth.” She stated simply, gently gripping the locket as she closed her eyes, trying to picture what the butterfly Kwami would look like. Most likely they would be purple, perhaps a light purple like the butterfly. Maybe with wings? Or would that be too on the nose? Than again, Plagg basically looked like a cat... but Tikki didn’t look like a ladybug.

“... No, I am not.” The voice stated “My name is Nooroo. I wished to apologize for what my master did to you, like I stated, I thought you would be asleep, I was going to give you pleasant dreams, and than leave. I can’t stay for too long or my master will discover me.”

Carmine blinked, not expecting that at all “... have you done this before, Nooroo?”

“For every single person my master has turned into an akuma, I have sent one of my butterflies to give the, pleasant dreams shortly after, an... apology of sorts for what he put the, through. I...” she heard his voice quiver slightly, and him take a deep breath “... my Miraculous isn’t meant to be used like this, to cause harm and bring out the worst in people. It’s suppose to make champions, hero’s, and... and...”

“Nooroo, this is not your fault.” Carmine expressed, brining the locket close to her chest, as if that would somehow convey the hug she wanted to give the Kwami “I know you most likely don’t have a choice in what happens with the Miraculous, none of this is your fault. Can you tell me where you are? I could retrieve the Miraculous, return you to Ladybug and Chat Noir-

“I can not.” Nooroo stated “My master forbids me from revealing myself to anyone, or my location. I can not go against my masters orders.”

Carmine sighed, looking down at the locket, bitting her lip “... I know you hate this, and it must seem really bleak right now, but Ladybug and Chat Noir WILL get you back, and you will get out of that mans hands. And if your willing, after that is all said and done, if you need a kind ear, I am here to listen.” She said to him.

She could feel the hesitation from Nooroo’s end before he spoke “I came here to help you feel better, not the other way around, Mlle Regal...” he stated, not in a mean tone, but a confused one.

Carmine smiled softly, shaking her head “I know... but healing can happen on both ends. I realize you probably can’t just speak to me whenever you please, and we probably can’t formally meet until your rescued, but I want to help you. My goal in life, my purpose, is to help others be the best they can be. I want to help anyone I can, and even Kwami’s like you Nooroo.”

At first Nooroo didn’t respond, and Carmine was almost worried that she over step some sort of boundary, however instead she heard a soft sob, causing her to worry even more.

“Nooroo, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you-“

“You... you remind me of my caterpillars...” he said softly, a soft sob escaping in his voice. “My true caterpillars, they always saw the good in people and wanted to help others...” he said softly “... thank you, for reminding me of them in this dark time...”

Carmine blinked, swallowing the lump in her throat as she felt the sadness and desperation through the psychic link that she shared with Nooroo “... A... Anytime.”

“I have to go. We may not be able to speak again-“

“We will, WHEN Ladybug and Chat Noir save you.” Carmine stated in a determined tone.

“... yes.” Carmine felt the hope, however small, in the one word “... yes, that would be lovely... thank you, Carmine, good night.”

The mask disappeared from her face, Carmine felt the link disappear. She sighed, wishing she could have helped more. She looked down at the locket, blinking slight as she noticed it seemed... different.

Upon closer inspection, she noticed the extremely faint outline of butterfly on the locket, as if it was a parting gift from Nooroo. Carmine gripped the locket, looking out at the night sky with new found determination.

When Ladybug and Chat Noir rescused Nooroo and defeat Hawkmoth, she had two plans. The first was the ensure that Nooroo got all the love and care he needed. The second, and she had the power to do this, to make Hawkmoth feel every single emotion he put Nooroo through. Tit for tat after all.

#ladybug #ladybug au #ml counsellor au #counsellor au #ml nooroo #hawkmoth bashing #save nooroo #carmine regal #post carmine akuma arc

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awkwardkitten13 · 4 years

Text

Oh My My (Drarry fan fic written to Oh My My by Blue October)

Harry's POV

Harry paced his living room waiting for Ron and Hermione to get there. He was being forced to go to a concert. It would be the first time out since the war ended three years ago, but Hermione talked him into it saying that it was a muggle rock concert so it was highly unlikely they'd see someone they knew. After thirty minutes of pacing he finally heard the door bell. Instead of apperating they all climbed into a cab and they were of.

"So who's playing?" Harry asked as he watched the dark trees and building pass the cab window.

"Mostly indie bands, Wretched Air, Home For Sale and I hear Dirty blue will be there, they're supposed to be really good." Ron said. Harry didn't reply. He just stayed quiet till they arrived. As the first two bands played Harry stayed by the bar watching Ron and Hermione dance. He finally got bored so he asked the bartender for a rum and coke. About four of those later he was finally feeling a bit looser.

It was at that time he looked up at the stage. The next band was just setting up, when the singer stepped up to the microphone Harry's jaw dropped. standing beneath the spotlight with bright blue hair, leather pants, and a tatted up torso was Draco Malfoy. He began to sing and harry was fully entranced. He couldn't turn away. Draco's voice had him lulled into hypnosis, and he was reminded of all those times he wanted to touch him when they were in school together. When they reached a slower love song it felt like draco was staring directly at him and his heart began to pound frantically. He couldn't understand why he felt this way still.

Draco's POV

As the band set up before the lights came on Draco scanned the crowd, but he almost fainted when his eyes got to the back where the bar was. Standing back there wearing tight blue jeans and a black T-Shirt was a familiar mop of black hair. He shook his head and reminded himself that this happened every show. He always thought he'd seen Harry before every show but its always turn out to be some stranger. He stepped up to the microphone and prepared for the first song, but before the lights came on the stranger turned around and this time his dream had come true. There was harry starring straight back at him with a socked expression on his face.

Draco put everything he could into his performance that night and when it came to the love song he sang it directly to Harry, as if he finally wanted harry to know how he felt. At the end of his bands set he threw on his jacket and went out front to "get a drink" as he told his mates. Really he just hoped to run into Harry. As he approached the bar he could feel Harry's eyes melting into him from just a few feet away. Form the corner of his eye he could see Harry trying to walked towards him but he was stopped by some drunk girl.

"Your super cute." Draco overhead the girl say to Harry. Draco kind of felt a little remorse and was ready to return to the green room when he heard harry's response.

"Sorry I don't swing that way, if you'd excuse me there's someone I have to meet." Draco smiled to himself as Harry finally made his way to his side.

"So the great Harry Potter's a gay huh? who'd have thought?" Draco said before Harry could say anything.

"Judging by those pants, your not so straight yourself Malfoy." Harry laughed.

"You got a problem with that, hot stuff?" Draco said as he turned and gave Harry a wink. Harry turned bright red and Draco couldn't help but smile.

"well that's a first!" Harry laughed.

"What? The flirting?" Draco asked.

"No, smiling while you flirted with me!" They both laughed.

Draco felt amazing it was the first time he'd talked to Harry and no pain was shed. He couldn't stop himself from asking, "Hey you wanna get out of here?"

Harry's POV

Harry stood there shocked for a moment. He never expected Draco to ask that. "I'd like that alot. Let me message Ron and Hermione and let them know i'm leaving."

He sent Hermione a message saying he was leaving with another friend and with in seconds Draco had him by the hand and they were getting into a cab. The skin on skin contact filled his stomach with butterflies.

"So is Granger going to be mad that you ditched them?" Draco laughed.

It took Harry a minute to comprehend what he had said because he was too busy staring at Draco's laughing face. He couldn't remember if he had ever seen him genuinely laugh before. He found it absolutely beautiful. He shook his head, "No but Ron might be." he laughed in return.

They laughed and told stories of what they'd been up to the past three years, and within 15 minutes they arived at Draco's flat.

"Do you want a drink?" Draco asked as they entered the extravagant flat.

"Sure!" Harry said feeling a little nervous now. Draco poored him another rum and coke and they both sat down on the couch.

"I hope i don't get you to flustered but i got to take the jacket off." Draco laughed with a wink.

"Get me to fl...?" Harry went to say but stopped mid sentence with his mouth still open when Draco finally had the jacket off. He had forgoten he was shirtless underneath.

Draco looked at him and laughed. "I wasnt being serious."

"What?" HArry shook his head again and tried not to stair at Draco's toned Tattooed torso. "Oh, I'm not flustered." He said turning red and feeling a stirring in his pants.

"Oh really?" Draco said with a bit of sass, "So if i..." Draco trailed of as he scooted closer on the sofa.

"What are you doing?" Harry said as he began to panic a little but in a good way.

"Nothing." Draco smiled as he lifted his hand and gently touched Harry's knee. Harry let out a quiet moan. "Ha not flustered my ass."

"Oh come on how could I not be you've always been so hot to meand that tattoos just add to it!?" Harry exclaimed and stuck his tongue out.

"Oh yeah? I've always been hot to you?" Draco smiled.

"Yes." Harry said quietly. Draco got up and straddled harry's lap with out warning making Harry's go eye wide. He slowly leaned down so his lips were brushing Harry's ear.

"I've always found you hot too," He whispered as his hand slowly slid up to harry's ribs, " But no one sticks their tongue out me." Harry felt him smile and soon he was being tickled viciously. they both laughed and Harry rolled trying to get away, but it was no use Draco had him. Somehow they ended up on the floor though and Draco paused for a moment. They were looking into each others eye. they just sat there staring for what seemed like eternity. Till Draco broke the silent with a whisper " What? Whatcha gunna do?" For some reason the way he said that sounded like the hottest thing Harry had ever heard. Harry smiled and placed his hand on Draco's cheek. Draco leaned down and they kissed passionately.

When they pulled away they were both out of breath. "I've been waiting to do that for years." They both said in unison. They smiled and Draco caught Harry's lips again. He slid his hand inside harry's shirt and harry let out a light moan, just enough for Draco to snake his tongue into his mouth and explore every inch of it. Harry bucked his hips up and that was the first time he'd heard Draco moan, but before he could cause any friction Draco stopped.

"Did i do something wrong?" He asked kind of hurt.

"No baby, no." Draco said and harry had to hide his blush at the pet name," I was just thinking, I want to do this right. I dont want our first time together to be some drunken night. I want us both to be sober and for the night to be perfect. If i keep going i won't be able to stop myself." He brushed Harry's cheek with his hand. "Can i take you to dinner sometime?"

Harry laughed, "I wish you were this perfect a few years ago. I'd like that a lot."

This time Draco stuck his tongue out at harry, so harry pinned him and started tickling his sides. Draco wriggled and escaped pinning Harry to the ground again. "Nice try."

"How's Saturday?"

"Hmm?"

"For dinner?"

"That will be perfect." Draco smiled. He hadn't felt this happy ever.

Harry left about thirty minutes later.

Draco POV

Saturday arrived like syrup on a cold day. Draco almost went crazy from the waiting, he was so excited.

He styled his blue hair and put on his best green button up with his black skinny jeans and combat boots. He was out the door and at the restaurant 30 minuted ealry. He sat at the bar and waited for harry. Soon he saw the all to familiar mop of black hair walk in the door. Harry was wearing a tight red T-shirt and dark blue jean that were just tight enough to show off his perfect ass. He smiled and approached and almost drooling Draco.

"Hi, sorry i didn't relise this would be such a nice place. I should have dress up a little more." Harry said.

"You're fine you look sexy." Draco replied leaving Harry blushing. "Shall we sit down?"

Dinner was perfect. They laughed and picked on each other, shared secrets, and even talked about what happened in school and put it behind them. After, the sat outside the restaurant and talked somemore till the sun was long gone.

"I dont normally ask this on a first date, but do you wanna come back to my flat? There's something i want to show you." Draco asked.

"Ive already been back to your flat." Harry laughed.

"True." Draco smiled in return, "So is that a yes then?"

"Yes." Harry laughed again.

They apperated back to Draco's flat and he let them in the front door.

"What is it you wanted..." Before harry could finish his sentence he was pushed up against the door and kissed.

Draco pulled back and both were out of breath. "Was that it?" Harry asked giggling.

"No. I've just been waiting to do that all night." Draco whispered in harry's ear sending shivers through Harry's body. "Come with me." Draco whispered again. He took Harry's hand and lead him to the living room where harry sat on the couch. He walked over to the closet and pulled out an acoustic guitar. He then pulled up the ottoman and sat in front of Harry. Harry was quiet but his face showed excitement and that made Draco smile. Draco started to strum and sing...

"You wear black hair I have blue

You look sadder than most boys do

The way you walk around

Always watching the ground

Well I like watching you

Your friends, they don't like me

I think they're jealous of my tattoos

I'm not a bad guy

Just like wearing black

I'm not scared of anything

But saying this to you

It's going down, neither of us wanna be alone right now

come on come on"

Draco looked up and he could physically see Harry falling in love and that made him fall too.

Harry's POV

When Draco started to sing Harry felt his chest grow warm. He felt himself fall in love and it was the realist it had ever felt.

"Oh my my

Yeah I'm loving all your warning signs

Cause I'm a sucker for you oh my my

boy you get me high

Yeah you're my type, you're danger, danger"

Draco looked up again and paused. They stared at each other with a burning intensity for what seemed like forever. Then Draco quickly moved the guitar to the side and they collided in a frenzied kiss. Harry laid down pulling Draco in between his legs

Draco grabbed harry's wrists and pinned him to the couch. He then kissed his way down to harry's neck and started sucking and biting till he heard harry let out a loud moan. He continued biting and licking the spot that made him moan till he felt Harry's hips jerk up and felt Harry's hard cock against his. This time he let out a hard moan and harry took the opportunity to capture his mouth and snake his tongue inside. He grabbed Draco's hips and started rubbing their cocks together through their pants. Draco became a moaning mess and soon couldn't take it anymore he stood up leaving Harry shocked but not as shocked as he was when Draco picked him up and carried him to his bedroom.

"Is the what you want?" Draco whispered sweetly as he laid Harry on the bed.

"Yes, more then anything." Harry whispered in return. Draco swished his wand and both they shoes were off. he then sat his wand by the bed. "Why didn't you just undress both of us?" Harry asked.

"Because i want to undress you myself and savor every inch of your skin." Draco whispered hotly. He then gently cupped Harry's face and kissed him passionately while straddling his hips. He slipped his hand under harry's shirt and started circling on of his nipples. Harry's breath hitched and he let out a quiet moan. soon Draco was slipping Harry's shirt off and sliding down to bite and lick at his nipples till Harry was shaking and gripping the sheets. Draco slowly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside.

"Come here. I want to feel you against me."Harry moaned as Draco obeyed and pessed his naked chest against Harry's. " I need to feel more of you." Harry moan into their kiss. They both started fumbling with the buttons and zippers on each other pants. Soon they were both in nothing but their boxers grinding against each other in a moaning mess.

"I need more, baby." Draco moaned.

"Me too. Please fuck me Draco." Harry whispered in Draco's ear. If Draco Hadn't caught himself he would have came right there. Hearing harry beg for him was such a turn on. He slid Harry's boxers off, admiring the girth of his cock as he did so, and conjured some lube. He then grabbed Harry's cock, which harry was not prepared for and let out a loud moan as Draco slipped it into his mouth and down his throat. Then harry felt Draco's wet finger start to slide into his hole. He moaned even louder and gripped the sheets. Within a few thrusts harry was begging for more so Draco added a finger and began scissoring them.

"Baby i need you cock!" Harry moaned.

Draco pulled his fingers out and popped Harry's cock out of his mouth. He then slipped of his boxers watching Harry's face the whole time, and giggling when harrys eyes got wide at the size of his cock.

"Do you think you can take all 9 inches?" Draco laughed

"I don't know but i'll try." Harry laughed in return, "Do you want me to turn around?"

"No, I wanna see you face when i'm balls deep in you." Draco said as he kissed harry deeply while lubing up his cock and sliding it in ever so slowly.

"Oh gods! Your'e so big, Draco!" Harry moaned.

"You can take it." Draco moaned in return. Harry was so tight aground him it took everything he had not to cum.

Soon he was burried to the hilt and he could feel Harry quivering around him. "PLease Draco, move." Harry begged.

Draco pulled out slowly then slammed back into him making Harry scream with pleasure.

"Oh Gods, please dont stop!" Harry screamed.

Draco started puling out fast and slamming back inside harder over and over till they were both a sweaty moaning mess.

"Harry i'm going to cum." Draco moaned.

"Me too, please cum inside of me, baby!" Harry screamed again and Draco's thrusts got sloppy. Within second they were both shaking through their orgasms as Draco came inside Harry and harry came all over their stomachs and chests. They kissed tiredly but still lovingly as Draco collapsed to the bed and waved a quick cleaning spell with his wand. He then wrapped Harry tightly in his arms.

"Harry, i don't know how you did it, but you got me to fall in love with you all over again."

"You started it. I've never felt this way for anther person. I love you so much Draco."

"I love you more." They both laughed and fell into a deep sleep.

The End

#drarry #blue october #my fic #fanfic #writing #wattpad #harry potter #harry x draco #draco malfoy #fanfiction

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feelingfredly · 5 years

Text

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Three

The Rooster and the Hen House

The dojo was humming with activity, and Ichigo breathed in the familiar scents of sweat, leather mats, and incense, pulling his focus tightly in upon himself, and letting all of his stress melt away.

The first Saturday of every month was for officially refereed matches, and he’d faced three different opponents over the course of the morning, but none of them had beaten him so far. Now he had one more round, and he was done for the day.

He bowed to the referee, and then to his opponent, sending his best friend a challenging smirk.

“Hajime!”

The two were evenly matched. They’d been training together for four years, but this was the first chance they’d had to face off against each other recently due to Renji’s crazy study schedule. Not many of the students at the dojo had as much experience as they did, and it was nice to be able to stretch his skills without being afraid he was going to accidentally hurt someone.

Ichigo raised his hands and lunged, thrusting one leg out and hooking it behind Renji’s foot as he trapped their hands high between their chests.

Grappling was Renji’s bread and butter. He was taller, and a little heavier, and if he could get a good grip Ichigo would be in trouble. Today Ichigo was faster, though, and getting a good foothold off the bat gave him all the edge he needed. He twisted, pulling Renji’s body closer, and then threw him over with all his strength, slamming the taller man onto his back.

“Ippon! Soremade.” The referee’s voice cut through the background noise. Match over. Three for three.

The friends stood, faced each other, and bowed again.

“Shit, Kurosaki,” Renji said, once they cleared the mat, “You were really in the zone today. I haven’t seen you move that fast since Inoue-san tried to get you to eat her chocolate-wasabi onigiri.” He laughed but Ichigo remembered that day. He had moved pretty fast. With Inoue’s food you had to—it was run or die. “Three ippons in a row! You could have at least given me a chance. You had me on my back faster than a fūzoku.”

Ichigo shook his head and tried to ignore the trace of red the teasing brought to his face. Renji was shameless. Luckily, he’d taught Ichigo to give as good as he got.

“Just didn’t want to tease you too much, Abarai. I know how hot and bothered you get thinking about pinning me like that. You’d never have been able to spar with a hard-on.”

As freshmen the two had met in the dojo. Ichigo had taken judo lessons since he turned twelve, and had been expected to keep training by his father, but Renji used judo as an outlet for some of his less socially acceptable impulses. He loved the physicality of it, and said more than once that it was the only thing that kept him from getting kicked out of school. It had only taken a few weeks for the two sparring partners to become friends, and after that first semester they found an apartment close to their classes and moved in together.

They’d fought off and on that first year. Renji went out drinking every weekend and slept through half the undergraduate population—male and female—and didn’t understand why Ichigo spent all his time studying. After a while, though, the newness of freedom wore off and he settled down into a more reasonable routine. He had an ambitious streak that pushed him, and he strove to be the best in every class, but it never turned him into an asshole. He was still the charming, outgoing goofball he’d been from the beginning, and he only occasionally teased Ichigo about his volumes of Shakespeare by the bathtub, and the medical journals he left on the kitchen counter.

His dad hadn’t been thrilled when he said he wanted to move off campus, but after a few meetings he and Renji had hit it off. Both Renji’s parents had died when he was small and he’d been raised in foster care, and while Kurosaki Isshin would never admit it, the redhead had become almost a second son. When Renji had been accepted to law school, he was just as proud as he’d been of Ichigo’s MCAT scores, and he’d bragged about them to anyone who would listen.

Hopefully, he’d never realize what his sons had gotten up to over the years.

“You working at the clinic tonight?” Renji asked. “I didn’t check the schedule this morning.”

“Not tonight.” Ichigo said. “I swapped with Yamazaki-san, so he could attend his little sister’s graduation ceremony last week, so I have an unexpected evening off.”

“Hot date?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “Only if you count my laptop.”

Renji snorted. “Sadly, that might sound better if I knew you had a porn addiction, but no. You’re going to find some dusty corner and commune with your muse again aren’t you?”

They hit the lockers and Ichigo pulled his clothes out, focusing on getting dressed so he didn’t have to answer.

Renji was more supportive than most about his writing. He agreed that spending a year working on getting his novel finished and finding an agent was important, but he didn’t understand Ichigo’s choice to stop dating until he’d made a final decision about med school. For him, getting laid was a priority—like breathing—and he was convinced Ichigo was crazy to try to deny himself.

It wasn’t like Ichigo had completely given up on sex. He’d had a few dates where he’d ended up in someone’s bed, but they’d been one night with no strings attached, and he never ended up in the same bed twice. There just wasn’t enough attraction with any of them to make it worth the effort.

“My muse, as you put it, is better company than anyone I’ve been out with recently.” He tugged his shirt over his head and pulled it down. “Anyway, you know how I feel. Until I get things settled it isn’t fair to ask someone to put up with my shit. Hell, I don’t want to put up with my shit.”

Renji came around the corner, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked, and Ichigo sighed. It wasn’t fair. The man was hot as hell, with his chest tatted up, and his muscles rippling subtly under smooth skin. At one time Ichigo thought he’d found his perfect match, but it wasn’t meant to be. They’d slept together a few times, and the redhead was as enthusiastic a lover as he was a sparring partner, but there was something missing and they both knew it.

“Don’t sell yourself short, man.” Long fingers made short work of his buttons. “There are lots of people out there who have less of an idea of what they’re doing with their lives than you. You’ve got a job, you’re writing a novel, you’re smart, you’re good looking,” he looked down at him and grinned, “and you have the hottest roommate in the history of cohabitation.”

Renji cocked his head to one side, looked at something over Ichigo’s shoulder, and stage whispered. “Someone’s taken notice at least. Although he seems a little on the shy side.”

Ichigo turned to see what he was talking about. “What? Who?” All he could see were a few other judo students.

Renji shook his head, and looked a little dismayed. “Dude was just standing by the door. I noticed him watching the matches earlier. Good looking guy. I guess he saw me watching him, uh, watching, and ducked out.”

Ichigo slid his feet into his shoes and grabbed his bag, the weight of the laptop heavy as he slung it over his shoulder.

“You sure he was watching me?” He looked at his friend. “Of the two of us, you’re the one who gathers groupies.”

Renji lost his smart-ass grin and shook his head. “No way. I gave him a good long look—you know I like the ones that look like they could do a little damage, and this guy looked like he could hold his own—but he didn’t notice me at all. He was all about you.”

Ichigo felt his heart speed up a little. “What did he look like? Kind of tall? Shoulders? Blond hair?”

Renji shook his head again, but looked questioningly down at him. “No. Your height. Dark. Black hair, dark eyes, mid-twenties? Moved like a fighter.”

Sounded like another not-Yakuza, but this one had found him. Shit.

He shut his locker door a little too hard and tried to tamp down the disappointment he felt that it hadn’t been the geta wearing man from the day before. It wasn’t like there was any reason to expect to see him again. He hadn’t even told Ichigo his name.

Even if he had said he’d see him again.

Renji stared at him a minute, and Ichigo could hear the wheels grinding away in his head as he put two and two together and as usual, ended up with five. “What’s going on, Kurosaki? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is this blond you mentioned giving you grief?”

See? Five.

Still. While Renji could be as over-protective as Isshin, it was hard to mind. One of the things they’d first connected over was a hardcore desire to avoid the local gangs, and it was still a hot-button topic for his roommate. Renji had more than his share of run-ins with tough guys in the foster care system and he’d considered it his job to protect the kids who were weaker or smaller than him, whether it was from lousy foster parents, or predatory thugs looking to recruit cannon fodder for their turf wars. For a lawyer, it was an excellent skill set. He could usually smell gang members a mile away, and it helped keep him out of trouble. So, if this guy didn’t set off Renji’s sensors, maybe he wasn’t a bad guy.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Something strange happened yesterday at Como’s. I was getting ready to head in for my shift at the clinic when these two guys showed up with neon signs over their heads screaming We’re Bad Guys. Before I knew it, I was running a little interference in the middle of some sort of throw-down. No one got hurt.” He thought about that and changed it. “Well, one of the guys with guns got hurt, but he was kind of asking for it.”

Renji stopped dead in the middle of buckling his belt, his eyebrows halfway to his hairline. “Guns? Why am I only hearing about this now? Did you call your old man and tell him?”

This was so not a conversation Ichigo wanted to be having.

“I’m telling you now. I didn’t tell you yesterday because you were balls deep in the flavor of the week when I got home last night and I didn’t feel like ruining the mood. And no, I didn’t call my dad because there was nothing he could have done about it. He’s retired. Anyway, the man who was at the center of the whole thing seemed to have everything well in hand. He was so smooth you’d think that sort of thing happened to him every day.”

Renji made a strangled noise. “Competence isn’t a good thing in these situations. You have to take this seriously. If you got in the middle of some turf war…”

Ichigo scrubbed his hand over his face. “It wasn’t like that. These guys were more like high-end kidnappers than gangbangers.”

Oddly enough, that didn’t improve things. Renji looked like he was going to have a stroke. His face was almost as red as his hair.

“Kidnappers.” He glared. “Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds? And you didn’t let your dad, the retired police lieutenant, know? What the fuck, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo ignored the questions and walked out into the dojo with Renji struggling along behind him, still trying to get his shoes on.

“You know how Goat-face gets. The minute he heard he’d start freaking out and acting like I was fourteen and being brought home from getting my ass kicked, again. I’m twenty-three, Abarai. I have a black belt in judo and a brown belt in karate. I can handle myself. I don’t need to run to my dad for help every time something happens.”

He didn’t mention that it would terrify his sisters, or that it would throw the entire Kurosaki household into turmoil, forcing his dad to relive the nightmare of his wife’s death. His father had many skills. Moving on wasn’t one of them.

“Kurosaki-san!”

The voice came from one of the younger instructors trying to flag him down as he headed for the exit.

“Someone left this for you at the desk.” Ichigo took the message with a respectful bow and murmured thanks, and continued out the door.

After the dojo the street was oddly quiet, the background buzz dropping to just faint traffic noise, and the two friends stopped and stood against the wall, looking down at the card in Ichigo’s hand.

It was a white card with a small red embossed inkan in the corner, the writing clean and precise, and it was clearly addressed to Kurosaki Ichigo.

“What’s that?” Renji asked, peering over his shoulder. “Love letter from a secret admirer? Maybe he was too shy to stay and ask you out in person. Or maybe it’s a ransom demand from your friendly neighborhood kidnappers. It’s even odds.”

Ichigo made a fed up sound. “Drop it, Abarai. Remember, I know where you sleep.”

Renji waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “As if I could forget. I keep my door open in case you ever want me to comfort you after a bad dream.”

Ichigo stared at his friend. It was like living with an overgrown puppy with ADHD and a sex addiction. How the man managed to survive in law school was a mystery.

Maybe he fucked all his professors. It would explain a lot.

“Who is Tsukabishi Tessai?” Renji asked, switching his focus back to the note and Ichigo groaned at the mental whiplash. Definitely ADHD.

“I met him yesterday at the coffee house.”

Ichigo thought back and tried to remember all the details about the man that he could. He was tall, even taller than Renji, with dark skin and tiny braids running along his scalp. The most powerful feeling Ichigo had been left with about him, though, was one of almost preternatural calm. It was as if nothing short of a bomb going off could unsettle the man. A good trait for someone faced with armed bad guys, he supposed.

“He was not one of the kidnappers I’m presuming?”

Ichigo sighed but didn’t feed the troll.

He re-read the note wondering if it was some sort of trick, but it hadn’t changed. “No. He showed up after everything started to go to hell. He was driving, but he didn’t act like any chauffeur I’ve ever heard of. Instead of freaking out over someone trying to grab his boss, or over the fact that we basically beat the crap out of two guys in the middle of the sidewalk, he just apologized for being late, took their guns and tossed the men into the back seat of his car.”

Renji looked like he wanted to start yelling again, but he restrained himself. Barely.

“And this is… what? A thank you note? A threat? He wants to make sure you keep your mouth shut and don’t tell the authorities?”

Ichigo shook his head again, and gave up trying to make sense of it all, and handed the card over for Renji to read for himself.

“He’s offering me a job.”

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spaciousreasoning · 2 years

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Powerless & Unmanageable

Another fictional recovery tale...

The little greasy spoon near downtown that bore the name of Gus’s had outlived its founder. Armando owned the place when I started going there, back in my college days. I ate lots of biscuits and gravy during exam season, to cap off a night of studying. Occasionally after a night of other pursuits.

When Armando retired, his son, also named Armando, took over the business, but he passed much too soon — we joked that it was from eating his own food — and his widow, Adelita, took the reins. She had been there almost since her father-in-law bought the place from Gus, so it wasn’t like it was changing hands.

It was only a couple of blocks from the main library, where the Saturday morning Men’s Mayhem group of AA met. The after-meeting at Gus’s had been active since before I quit nursing hangovers on Saturday mornings. That had been more than twenty years.

Fran, who ran the front of the house while Adelita held sway in the kitchen, greeted me as she always did on Saturday mornings, with a big mug of hot black coffee. I prefer to do the cream and sugar myself. Fran is in her mid-somethings, covered in tats, hair pinned up like it was still the Fifties, and dressed in a costume from that same era. She also did roller derby.

“Dan and Dan are already in the back,” she said in her announcer-sized voice, then leaned in and whispered, “Is he one of your guys?” She nodded in the direction of the first booth, where a street-worn fellow sat with his hands gripping his coffee cup like he was afraid to let go. “He’s been here since 8:30.”

Men’s Mayhem began at 7:30. One of the trusted servants was a library employee, so we were able to use the facility well before the public turned up. We usually closed the meeting at about 8:30, but not all of us made the transition to Gus’s in a timely manner. Some folks actually had things planned for Saturday morning and did not attend the after-meeting, but they did like to stand around and chat for a little bit before going on their way.

I took my mug over and stood beside the booth. “I’m Jack,” I said, offering my hand. “Are you here for the after-meeting?”

He raised his head and looked up at me, then slowly reached out to shake my hand. “Ray,” he said simply. “I think I remember you.”

I took that as an invitation to sit, and slid into the booth and doctored up my coffee while looking Ray over. He certainly had a hard look about him, not homeless, but well-acquainted with the street and the substances that could be found there.

“It’s possible. I’ve been in the rooms a few twenty-four hours,” I said. “You?”

“Yeah, just not all in a row.”

I waved in the direction of the back room. “Want to join us? We’re loud and ugly but we don’t bite. And most of us are familiar with the revolving door.”

The front door of Gus’s banged open and two more of the Mayhem crew strode in, glancing in my direction only long enough for a knowing nod, before heading into the back. Dennis was an old-timer, more than 30 years, and a vet. He had lots of good, scary stories. Fred was younger, but he had almost a decade sober. He served as our treasurer.

Almost immediately behind them, the third Dan walked in. Unlike the two Dans already in place, Dan S. was not a biker. He taught at the university and, at 40, with fifteen years sober, did not bear many of the ravages of the illness. He waggled his fingers at me in greeting.

“You don’t have to, of course,” I said to Ray. “I’m happy to sit here and talk, if that’s what you want.”

In answer, Ray began telling his story. It wasn’t an unusual one. All the parts were familiar, at least to anyone who’s spent time in the fellowship: a variety of substances, some brushes with law enforcement and unemployment, failed relationships, health troubles, and several attempts at sobriety.

He spoke quietly, his voice quavering in spots, and gripped his coffee cup solidly to keep his hands from shaking.

“I’ve got to get this right,” he said. “Pretty sure I’m running out of time.”

We sat quietly for a few moments, then I suggested we join the others in the back.

“There’s plenty of experience, strength and hope in there. And some of the best men you’ll ever meet.”

Ray glanced toward the back and nodded his head.

“OK, I guess so, thanks.”

Fran winked and gave me a thumbs-up as we got up from the table. I threw down a couple of bucks for our use of the space.

The conversation was boisterous in the back room. Dennis was holding forth with some tale of adventure while the others provided commentary and questions. There was a pause when we approached the tables where everyone sat.

“This is Ray,” I said to introduce him. “You’ll figure out who’s who pretty quickly.”

Dennis reached out his hand.

“Welcome, brother. Glad you’re here.”

Ray smiled dimly and lowered himself into the nearest empty chair, still gripping his coffee cup, from which he had yet to take a sip. He kept his head down as the conversation renewed, seeming to flinch from time to time when the volume spiked.

That kind of behavior was familiar to me. My own recovery was not without some pitfalls, though they came early and brought me soon enough to a measure of serenity in addition to the sobriety. Though life still included some bumps and curves during the ensuing years, I was certainly the better for having given up the alcohol and drugs when I did.

The after-meeting had no formal structure. It lasted until everyone had their fill of talk or coffee or food or needed to head off to some chore or Saturday appointment. By the time the group had dwindled down to Dennis and Ray and me, it was after 10 o’clock.

“You got plans for the rest of the day?” Dennis asked of Ray.

Ray shook his head slowly, his eyes lowered, not looking at either of us.

“There’s another good meeting at noon,” Dennis offered. “I’d be happy to take you, if you like.”

Ray’s shoulders hunched, and he mumbled a “no, thanks” before sliding out of his chair and heading toward the front.

“Keep coming back!” Dennis called after him, then looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “Had you seen him before today?”

I shook my head. “No, pretty sure I have not, though he seemed to recognize me. Guess I need to polish my newcomer greeting skills.”

Dennis emptied his coffee cup and stood up, reaching for his wallet.

“Do you have any plans for today?” he asked me.

My routine for Saturday usually included getting out somewhere in nature with my camera. Once in a while there was some actual hiking involved, not simply wandering aimlessly while looking through a lens. But I had not made any specific plans for the day.

“Nope,” I answered, heading toward Fran and the cash register. “How about you?”

“Doing some barbecue later. Nancy asked if you’d like to join us for dinner.”

“What shall I bring?” I asked in response. “And what time do I show up?”

We worked out the details as we paid our bills then walked out to the parking lot, where Dennis climbed into his Toyota Highlander and drove carefully away. By the time I reached my car, I had spotted Ray hanging out behind Gus’s, tucked into a bit of shade by the rear exit’s overhang. He was watching me warily.

“Can I help with anything, Ray?” I asked.

He took a couple of steps toward me and collapsed to the ground. It was then I noticed his bloody wrists. I dialed 9-1-1 as I ran back into Gus’s to get some towels.

#fiction

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beautyindisguise00 · 6 years

Text

What were you doing at 9:30 last night?

Saturday night September 8, 2018 10:40pm

Tonight the last person you kissed calls you and tells you he wants you what do you say? “yeah babe, I want you too but are you drunk?” hahaha. he’s at his brother’s bachelor’s party this weekend and we haven’t talked in a while. I told him he can’t drunk call me. lol Who was the last person to drive you somewhere? uhhh, hard to recall since I drive myself everywhere all the time now but probably one of my siblings When was the last time you cried? a few days ago. after my boyfriend’s volleyball tournament. it was small but mostly an angry cry. hahaha Are you texting the last male you cuddled with? no, because he’s hanging out with the guys this weekend

When was the last time you totally broke down? when my grandma passed away.

If you could have one thing right now what would it be? money. Has a friendship ended recently that you wish had not? not really. Recently kissed anyone with the name starting with a L? hahaha. my boyfriend’s name is Lee so yes :) What will you be doing in the next 2 hours? watching tv to fall asleep What are you currently listening to? Mistresses

Are you angry with someone right now? nope Do you have any plans for the weekend? well it IS the weekend and my plans were to grocery shop and get things done with school and other things I was supposed to finish Has the last person you kissed ever took their shirt off in front of you? ohhh yeah Who were you with Friday? myself most of the night If the last person you kissed, saw you kissing someone else, would they be upset? beyond upset Are you missing someone? soooo much Do you believe your ex cares about you? probs not. not in a bad way Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants, or pajama pants? a sweater and panties. it’s almost time for bed Do you want to say something to someone? babe, I hope youre having fun and call me soon because I miss you! Anybody you’re looking forward to seeing soon? family and friends Have you ever read an entire book in one day? nope. haha can’t do that Was yesterday fun? eh How fast does your mood change? depends really. but not too fast Would you ever get in the passenger seat of a car with someone who’s been drinking? of course not Do you really, truly miss someone right now? I miss my boyfriend so much. I just want him to give me a call good night

Have you ever had an alcoholic beverage? yes Do you ever feel like you just HAVE to sing out loud? for certain songs - yes Have you ever watched RuPaul’s Drag Race? If yes, what makes it enjoyable? nope

Do you own a TV? If so, what do you watch on it? just bought my own tv; watch stuff on Netflix, hulu, and tv Do you have Netflix/ViaPlay/other similar online channel?: Netflix and hulu Have you ever watched Nostalgia Critic or Nostalgia Chick?: uh, I’ve never heard of it What is the strangest type of food you have eaten?: I don’t really like to eat strange food so I don’t know What is the strangest type of candy you have eaten?: nothing really What would be your most ideal profession?: wedding planner or teacher :) What kind of rides do you enjoy the most at amusement parks?: any that does not flip me upside down Have you tried those coloring books for adults?: nope What is a topic you definitely don’t want to talk about with anyone?: politics mainly because I am clueless about it all Someone is about to take your picture. How do you react? smile, pose or make a silly face Do you frequent any “funny pictures” site? If so, which one? uhm..nope. Do you wash your dishes by hand or do you have a dishwasher?: by hand. Do you ever get a chance to stay home alone? If not, why not? a few times Are you/have you ever been engaged? If not, would you like to be one day?: someday! :) Are you/have you ever been married? If not, would you like to be one day?: again, someday! What makes a person ugly?: A shitty personality. < Yep. <<< I agree. <<<<<lol this! What makes a person beautiful?: someone who’s just nice :) What is the craziest hairstyle and color you’ve had?: I don’t do anything crazy with my hair Is there a book that you are currently reading?: currently, no Do you prefer an actual book or ebooks? Why?: actual book! I like holding the book and turning actual pages What was your first gaming console? besides the ones my brothers had, I really wanted a wii Is there something you’re eagerly waiting for? What is it? being done with school Is there something you’d like to change about yourself? there’s a few things. Have you ever had a sunburn? Where on your body was it? nothing too bad. if anything, my nose Do you have or would you like to have a tattoo? If so, where? my cousins and I are thinking about getting a tat to remember our grandma What was the last present you gave someone? $100 Have you ever had a serious injury? nope, I’m very cautious especially when it comes to pain What’s under your bed?: boxes What is something you’ve been meaning to get done but haven’t yet?: studying for FORT Do you enjoy traveling? absolutely! Where do you carry the things you need with you when leaving the house?: my purse or backpack On a daily basis, do you prefer to go by car or by bicycle? Why? car because the places I travel to are far Do you know your ancestry? a little bit but it’s so confusing Which hair color would you never want to have? full blonde What has been the most beautiful place you’ve visited? cave point or clearwater beach

Where was the very first kiss you had with the last person you kissed? my freshman dorm room. on my bed :)

Are you texting anybody? I wish!

What were you doing at 9:30 last night? something naughty with my boyfriend before he left to hang out with the guys for the weekend

Are you listening to music right now? nope

Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos? my cousin texted me about getting tats for my grandma recently

Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? probably

Looking back, did you ever waste too much time on a someone that treated you badly? I don’t think I wasted too much time but it helped me learn about how I should really be treated my others

If your doctor told you TODAY that you were pregnant, what would you say? HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?

Have you hugged someone within the last week? yes

Are you a couple with the last person you kissed on the lips? I am :)

What woke you up this morning? my alarm that I should have turned off.

What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? sister

Did you cry at all today? nope!

Will your next kiss be a mistake? most likely not

When is the next time you will kiss someone? probably in two weeks.

Are you older than the last person you kissed? nope

When is the last time you consumed alcohol? Monday night

What were you doing at midnight last night? watching tv

Have you ever been given flowers? yes

Can you honestly say that at this point in time you’re happy with the way things are? in a way, yes

What are you excited for? graduating in the spring

Did anyone call you babe/baby today, who? my boyfriend via text

Has anyone said they love you in the last week? the babe has

Last time you smiled? today

Would life be the same without alcohol? for sure

Ever had sex in the bathroom? nope

Who are you dating? my boyfriend

Who’s the last person you talked to about sex? uhhhh, Kassie, my coworker

Have you ever sat in the back of a police car? nope

Are you stubborn? ohhh yes

If you took a drug test right now, would you pass? for sure

Who was the last person to be on a bed with you? its been a while but my boyfriend

Do you tend to hold a grudge? not really

Who is the last person that pissed you off? don’t remember

What’s a fact about the last person that texted you? she’s really good at singing

Would you date someone who was addicted to drugs? no, I could not.

What was the last alcoholic beverage you drank? mike’s hard lemonade – strawberry lemonade and then I took some weird shot

Do you care if people hate you for no reason? yes

Who was the last person to play with your hair? probably carter, kid from work

Who was the last person you kissed on the cheek? kids from work

Would you ever get plastic surgery? nope

Have you ever had so much to drink that you still felt drunk when you woke? not too often

Is there currently anyone else in the room with you? nope, just me

Have you ever tried a weird flavor of vodka? salted caramel is pretty good

What is the wallpaper on your phone? my boyfriend and I in florida

Why did you call the last person you called? to talk to him – my boyfriend

How many windows are in the room you’re in? just one

Do you have Facebook friends that you’ve never actually met? nope

When was the last time you had your photo taken professionally? high school for cheer season

How far from your house is the nearest supermarket? like 5ish minutes

If you could wake up and speak any language fluently, what would it be? I took French in high school but I’d say Spanish

Can you count your number of serious relationships on one hand? yes

How about number of sexual partners? hahaha. I wouldn’t need my hands

Has anyone told you they missed you lately? yesterday

Was yesterday better than today? sure

This time last year, were you single? nope

Do any of your friends dislike each other? my boyfriend and best friend for a bit but now they’re good

What are you doing right now? re-watching mistresses

Have you ever liked someone but were afraid to tell them? all the time

What happened at 9:00AM today? I was on my phone

Do you have a best friend? my boyfriend

Are you scared to fall in love? I was

Do you think ex’s can remain friends? some, not all.

Are you one of those people that always answer their phones? if I know who’s calling then I usually answer

Hate it when you go over to someone’s house and do absolutely nothing? yes

Are you one of those people who gets jealous of boys/girls your current bf/gf dated? not too much but once in a while when we casually bring them up

Were you single for your last birthday? nope

Did you talk to the person you like today? for a little bit through text this morning

When was the last time you were in a car with someone besides family? friday, my roommates and I; we were going to noodles

What are you wearing on your feet? nothing

You can get a puppy or a new car. Which do you choose? oh my goodness! that’s had. but I’d say car for now because I don’t have time to take care of a puppy since I’m not home and I cant have pets in my apartment

Is it easy to make you cry? sometimes

Think back to August, were you in a relationship? yes

Any drama in your life right now? nope

Did you sleep alone last night? I did

When was the last time you received flowers? What were they for? uhm……my boyfriend came to visit

Have you ever been physically or mentally abused? How did it effect you? nope

Do you consider yourself a vengeful person? If so, why’d you think that is? nope. I’m learning to let go

What one quality do you have that you are proud of? I’m a good listener

When have you felt the most proud of yourself? For what reason? chasing one of my dreams for the second time but handling myself when I didn’t achieve it

Have you ever had a near death experience? If so, how did it feel? I’ve been in one car accident before but I wasn’t that bad.

#beautyindisguise00 #gettoknowme #q&a #questions

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guileheroine · 6 years

Text

a commemoration

Korra and Asami celebrate their anniversary. Post-The Everthere 🎀 / ao3

23.52.

Korra blinked and rubbed her eyes. She closed her computer and slid it across the table, depositing her phone in its place and thumbing through the calendar with sleepy swipes. She never really made use of this function on her phone, hardly even opened it. Today was the rare exception: there was something she had wanted to check.

She had moved in on a Friday last year, if she recalled right - the corresponding Friday to this one today, she supposed, which she had spent failing to sleep off the jet lag from her latest work trip. That made tomorrow (Saturday) a year to the day if she had calculated right - if she had guessed right that they weren’t in a leap year.

Korra patted herself on the back for figuring all this out. For remembering in the first place. Her plan was to spring that on Asami when she got home; rouse some indulgent sentimentality in order to trigger the attention that Korra desired from her. Asami had come home for fifteen minutes tops the after lunch, just after Korra arrived, to pick some papers up and tell her she’d be working late, sorry, baby. She had hugged Korra not nearly long or enthusiastically enough. Now Korra was pining, and a little peevishly. She blamed her knack for envisioning particularly fanciful reunions. It was just what separation did to her.

Korra yawned widely. Then she tapped her foot and bowed forward, letting her forehead press against the cool surface of the table. She wondered whether she should just go to bed and see her tomorrow, but the extra few hours would just nurture another probably inevitably unfulfilled fantasy of waking up with Asami fawning over her.

Her hair was still wet from her shower. She would give it until it dried. That was a sensible basis. She looked at the phone. 23.56. No way it had been four minutes.

The longest four minutes. Korra left her head against the table, letting her eyes fall close; turning her face so it cooled her cheek and temple. Did Asami not miss her? It wasn’t like her to flake on Korra when she hadn’t seen her for nearly a week. Was she - were they just getting… too comfortable? Roommate syndrome, wasn’t that what it was called? She darkened immediately, because, shit, they were roommates. They had separate bedrooms, for crying out loud.

No. This train of thought was stupid enough that even in her sleep-addled state Korra retained just enough perspective to discard it as soon as it had got on its way. She was just tired, and alone, and starving; and generally too reliant on Asami’s typically very reliable affection not to miss it today. And Naga was asleep. And she was jet-lagged.

00.00, October 16th.

She thought she heard a car door slam. She did hear the key in the lock, with a flare of anticipation in her chest, but her head was too heavy to be lifted. Asami could come and do that, if she really loved her. The door opened and shut.

“Korra?” The sound of Asami’s shoes being pulled off, the zip of her bag. “You’re up…” Korra softened with every next word of her voice. She grunted in acknowledgement. She smelled Asami before she saw her, and felt her before that, too - a cool hand coming to cup the back of her head, which lifted at the touch. “I don’t know whether to be happy or not that you’re up…” Asami said, a fond smile on her lips when Korra blinked up at her.

She groaned, savouring the touch of Asami’s hand. “Why?”

“Aren’t you tired?” Asami said, setting her phone and a boba tea cup down onto table from her other hand. She wrapped her arms around Korra’s shoulders, hooking one under her upper arm. She pressed her face into the side of hers. “Hm?”

Fucking duh. Korra opted not to answer. Asami, oblivious, smooshed her face anew into Korra. Her arms squeezed harder still. Korra could feel exactly which tone of voice was coming on. She hummed with some satisfaction, at last.

“Korra... I’m so happy you’re back.”

“Good,” Korra said, feeling unruly. Asami laughed a single, content giggle against her, making Korra’s skin spark.

When she next opened her eyes, they fell on the plastic cup on the table. Korra’s brow wrinkled after a moment. “Why are you caffeinating at midnight?”

Asami appeared not to have heard her, deep in a nuzzle in Korra’s hair. She shifted, pausing to adjust the bracelet on her wrist so it didn’t dig into Korra where she held her. Never mind. Korra let her mind and weight fall back into Asami. The warm, distracted thought that she could fall asleep like this crossed her.

“You smell good, you hair’s still kinda wet,” Asami said softly, like she was checking a list off. Korra knew it was simply her strange way of taking her in fully at this late hour. Asami yawned and took a few seconds to pick some damp strands of hair and tuck them back before, burrowing against her again. “Mm, Korra.” She pressed what began a kiss and ended a smile against her temple. “Happy moving in anniversary, by the way.”

The bitch. How did she remember that? There went Korra’s plot. She decided on a tempered response to this implicit invitation to get sappy (and she knew it was that, because she’d had the same thought.) She wasn’t going to give Asami that tonight; tit for tat.

Still, she had remembered. Though maybe Korra shouldn’t have been too surprised, since she remembered, too. (Just.)

“Thanks,” she said, biting her cheek. Polite, perfunctory. Asami couldn’t know that she was impressed. It did impress her, though, in the same weird soft way that Asami's discretion to move any potentially uncomfortable jewelry before cuddling her impressed her. She let the moment stretch just long enough that it would feel a bit anticlimactic to Asami. Then she turned and kissed her on the mouth anyway.

Korra wanted to kiss her hard. But more than that, even if it was silly, she wanted Asami to be unable not to kiss her hard first. She pulled away.

Gentle surprise on Asami’s face at her withdrawal. Korra watched it come and go and touched her nose to hers.

“So, we’ve been roommates for a year,” Asami tried eventually, getting at nothing in particular.

And? Korra said with her eyes, enjoying her dead end. “So hot, right?” She laughed, unable to help it, making Asami snort and shake her head and shrug.

“Just thought you’d appreciate knowing,” Asami said, finally straightening, stretching on her feet - she scratched the bridge of her nose, moving to pocket her phone. “I’ve got some M&Ms in my bag for you.”

Of course she did. Korra didn’t know why all her predictable actions still made her nerves flutter. She stood up, too, but she pulled Asami’s hands back around her, back against the table. Asami stopped to pick up her cup and take a long draw through the straw, before sliding her arms around Korra, fingering the hem of her shirt.

Korra yawned and mumbled into her shoulder. “Why are you drinking tea again?”

Asami’s fingers stilled, hands under Korra’s shirt. A pause, the flat of her fingertips circling gently on her skin. A sweet, honest pause. “To stay up for you.”

God.

“If you need me to.”

Jesus.

The words fell in the pit of Korra’s stomach.

Herself, wordlessly, she took Asami’s cup, met her eyes and practically chugged the rest of the tea down, as far as one could chug through a straw. Asami watched her, somewhat amused.

Now Korra just needed her to kiss her. She leaned in, impatient enough to do everything for her but the deed itself.

Asami relented, taking her face in both hands. Before she even knew it, Korra’s palm was braced against the table for balance. Finally. She swallowed down a laugh and a moan, shooting all her focus into kissing her back.

When she drew back at last, panting, Asami looked like she could have used the rest of her drink. “My room?” She breathed.

“Mine -” Another kiss. “Spotless all week,” Korra said hurriedly, the laugh in her throat threatening to bubble up again. Roommates sure had its perks, when it gave you a choice of beds every night. She closed the gap between them again before Asami could ask why she was smiling.

#korrasami #the everthere #korrasami fanfiction #**

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