#The smell of air before a storm thing the lemon thing the piano thing the music thing ugh I could go on and on

[caterpillarinacave]

I love Charlotte and Henry and they're super underrated. And I would VERY MUCH like to hear the headcanons whirring about in your brain.

Oh well buckle up cause literally all I think about is head cannons. Like, you know how cells replace themselves every few years? Mine have replaced themselves with head cannons. *Sorry it took me a hot moment to answer this ask, I was busy howling into my pillow whenever I tried to articulate thoughts.*

First of all, they’re very cuddly. They basically sleep on top of each other (Charlotte hasn’t needed a pillow in decades). Henry cant sleep well without Charlotte in his arms and Charlotte can’t sleep well anywhere other than Henry’s arms so it works out. Plus, they both do that thing where they jerk awake like the world is ending and scare the shit out of each other, so sleeping in a hug that basically pins them both down saves some energy at 2am. Henry’s perpetually cold and sleeps under like, four blankets, so Charlotte just wears summer nightgowns all year and wraps herself around Henry like a koala.

Naturally there’s an angsty side to the incessant cuddling because that’s just the way I role.

Charlotte sleeps with her head on Henry’s chest so she can always feel him breathing because, by the angel, she remembers when he wasn’t. She sleeps with a hand on his pulse point because she wakes up in the middle of the night and she’s still half asleep they might as well be on the floor in that mountain and she might as well still be desperately swearing she didn’t imagine his heartbeat.

While on the topic of soul crushing feelings of guilt, y’all remember from Clockwork Angel that Henry was the one who told Mortmain what a Pyxis was? And he wanted Charlotte to tell the clave that and she wouldn’t because “they already treat him so badly”? Because I do. And so does Henry.

(I’ve got a whole WIP that I love very dearly about this head cannon and this chess game hehe) There’s one random old tutor who goes to the London institute once a month-ish, basically to hand out a few weeks of homework to any shadow hunters who don’t have their own tutors. Most shadow hunters who live in a more rural area show up a few times a year so the clave knows they’re alive and at least somewhat literate. Charlotte attends them every month since, you know, she lives there, but Henry lives somewhere around Yorkshire so he shows up every few months. The professor is kind of a dick ngl. He doesn’t help Charlotte with any school why would a woman need to be so well educated? “Go on find a husband and stop worrying you’re pretty little head” sort of shit. Henry drives him insane because he’s a) some random kid who’s smarter than him and b) didn’t use any of the professors materials to get that smart. Professor Douche is constantly trying to get him to be wrong about something, or at least flustered about something and he doesnt ever do either of those things, and even more aggravating he refuses to get upset. (He honestly just assumed the professor wasn’t that smart.)

Charlotte’s a really good student of course, but she’s having a shit time with some mathematics and the professor absolutely refuses to help her with it. Eventually she asks Henry if he wouldn’t mind helping her with it, which he’s happy to do (once he figures out that’s what shes actually asking lol.)

Charlotte is incredibly distracted the entire time by Henry’s freckles (and eyes. And hands. And the way his hair curls on the nape of his neck. And the spots of gold and green in his hazel eyes that flashed as bright as the sun when the light catches them. And-), but they get through it in an hour or two which leaves them alone in a deserted wing of the institute. They end up playing a game chess. Charlottes a decent player and thought since Henry had never showed any interest in chess it would be a probably be an evenly matched game. She didn’t know what hit her. He beat her in like, eight minutes, eighty percent of which were spent on the last two moves by Charlotte who, upon realizing she was fucked, spent five minutes staring at the board trying to figure out when he even started beating her. She was sitting there having a whole crisis, (she’d been distracted by a man who probably doesn’t like her, and certainly doesn’t think much of her now after a pathetic loss like that and now she’ll have to sit hear and wallow in failure-) just preparing for him to start that whole smug gloating thing men do when they win and Henry you know. Didn’t. He just put the pieces away and thanked her for the game, in that very genuine way, with the gloomy London evening light casting a depressing shadow across the room, a shadow that he stood out against all gentle, kind, bright and brimming with a sort of barely contained passion. If Charlotte had ever doubted that shadow hunters had come from straight angels then sitting there, looking at a boy stained in soot, who she loved more than anything else to walk the earth, she would never doubt it again.

(It wasn’t until after Henry won and noticed Charlotte hadn’t said anything in a while that he remember people don’t like losing. Honestly he was playing just to be around her and he would have thrown the game if he could conceptualize how to do that on the fly. They spent like five minutes in autistic silence waiting for the other to stand up and declare newfound hatred.)

In true British fashion the a modern tea bag would kill them both.

When they were both 13 or 14 Charlotte mentioned she was dreading winter because it’s so bleak and dark (and her mom had died a few winters before, though she didn’t drop that in casual conversation). Anyways, come winter Henry brought her a marigold preserved in something like resin. She kept it in her jewelry box for years and after they got married she found out he had literally dozens of them. Whenever he came across a particularly bright flower he preserved it and set it aside. He was never quite brave enough to give them to her pre-TID, but he now leaves them for her when she’s particularly sad or stressed. She keeps them all in a drawer- they fit together like little tiles, and still look as fresh as they would had they just been plucked from the ground.

Somewhat surprisingly Henry doesn’t really lose stuff, with the singular exception being his own medical equipment. He’s lost the leg braces he wears every single day of his life before. Charlotte’s not usually speechless but she wasn’t sure what to say to that one.

Henry gave Charlotte a watch with a hands and numbers that can glow the same way a modern day one would. It’s absolutely beautiful, durable and accurate, even if Henry set himself on fire at least four times making it. (They can say with confidence that that watch is fireproof)

—-

Honestly, I could go on and on, then on some more, but technically I’m supposed to be writing a paper on gut micro biomes that’s due tomorrow, so I figured I’d cut myself of. In conclusion, I love them dearly, they love each-other dearly, they deserve the world, all I can think about is them, and the world can pry them out of my cold dead hands.

#My rough drafts are a goldmine #I’ve got basically a full novel of Henry and Charlotte in the form of random chapters scattered around a google doc #The second to last one might have come about because Ive always had an affinity for losing medical equipment #Yes it’s normally attached to my body no I don’t know where it went #I love so much #the thoughts are suffocating #My brain replays “they believed right then that Shadowhunters came from angels” constantly #It’s one of the lines I made up and lives rent free in my head #I direct everyone to Qui Voltum Tolt Vultum Perdit on my AO3 which will eventually be full of henry and Charlotte #That fic is a very articulate example of some of my thoughts #The bit about the marigold I mentioned is just the surface btw it’s so much 💅deeper💅 #I didn’t even mention the snow scene on here (scene I made up. And only I know about) #Or the scars. Dhegvgfg the scar thing #One of my own WIPs that makes me cry because I need someone to love me that way #Also left out the pajama thing the baked good thing the boat thing the “teaching original London institute gang to swim” thing #The newspaper thing floor thing the triplets thing the Yorkshire thing the bathtub thing the tiny little children #The smell of air before a storm thing the lemon thing the piano thing the music thing ugh I could go on and on #Tid #thanks for the ask! #fairwell #…anyone got any good articles on the gut microbiome

[storytellingfandom]

Rainy Day kind of Love 

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and of course, Lin’s been caught in it working. All she wants to do is go home, take a shower, and collapse. Luckily, you’re there to make sure she’s taken care of.

A/N: It’s been pouring down rain all day and the vibe I’m feeling. So enjoy this fluffy little Lin/Reader to help you feel cozy too. 

Wordcount: 10252

It had been a terrible day. It had been pouring down rain all day, the wind was blowing, the power had gone out in several areas, there had been more accidents on that day than Lin could ever keep a count on. The only good thing about today was that she was getting out of the station on time. She was soaking wet from standing out in the rain supervising an accident after a Triad raid, which is probably the only reason she was going home. 

Pulling her trench coat closer to her form, she ran the short distance from her Satomobile to the apartment building. Nodding to the man behind the front desk, she started up the stairs before using her cables to pull her up the rest of the way. The cold was beginning to seep into her bones at that point, her fingers were stiff so instead of her key, she used her fingers to flick the locks open and pushed the door open. 

The sight made her smile, feeling a little bit warmer than she had been. 

The smell of clean laundry hit her senses first, a soft, floral, clean scent that you used for the detergent. Neatly folded piles sat in a basket near the couch, a blanket ruffled on the couch. You had obviously been there not too terribly long ago curled up there if the empty tea cup was any indication. 

Hanging her coat up to dry, she bent her armor off as well to put it next to the door so that it didn’t drip water all over the floor. Once she was dried off and warmed, she would come back and dry it and polish it if needed. Rubbing hands over her damp arms, she was grateful for the warmth of the apartment coming from the heater that you had obviously turned on at some point when the storm had picked up. 

She found you in the kitchen with your back to her. Your hair was damp, piled messily on the top of your head, one of her shirts covering your form covering most of the shorts that you wore. Standing at the counter, you were chopping vegetables for the soup pot that sat on the stove. Perfect. Soup was something she could go for right about now. 

Coming up behind you, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around your form, chin resting on your shoulder, pulling you closer to absorb your warmth. 

“You’re so warm.”

“Spirits Lin!” You whirled around in her arms, cupping her cheeks. Taking her in, her hair was wet, her skin was frozen and damp and her pants were soaked through where her armor and boots didn’t cover it. “Were you out all day in this!? We need to get you in a bath with some hot tea.”

Lin chuckled but let herself be led by you back into the bathroom. Releasing Lin’s hand, you reached out to start the hot water for her. Turning, you helped her to get undressed, reaching up to pull pins from her hair and ran your fingers through the wet, dark grey waves. 

She caught your face then, standing in her bindings and pants to press a kiss to your lips. It forced you to stop, to let your brain slow down from trying to focus so hard on taking care of her. 

“Hi.” Lin murmured against your lips, fingers brushing against your warm skin.

“Hi.” You smiled back and kissed her back. “Missed you today.” 

“Me too. How’d the meeting with the museum go?” Lin asked, pulling back to finish stripping for the shower. 

“It was good! I think we’re going to get the funding to expand some things.” You answer with a smile. “I’ll tell you about it after you get warm. Tea will be ready when you’re done in here.” 

 Lin took her time in the shower, letting the water warm her up. Seeing your jasmine scented shampoo she opened it just to smell it before grabbing her own. It was a lavender mint you’d found for her at a market somewhere, the two scents were meant to relax her, and they worked. And though many would never believe it, she did like and enjoy soaps that smelled good and made her hair or skin as soft as these did. 

When she did get out, she smiled when she saw how you’d laid out dry clothes for her. Sweatpants you’d put on the radiator to get it warm before laying it on the bed for her, and her typical white tank top.  

Once dressed, she left her hair down for once before moving to join you back in the kitchen again. She tried to worm her way back to snuggle against your form but was stopped by a wooden spoon. 

“Tea, drink, now.” You ordered, a smirk tugging on your lips when you noticed the slight pout. “You were out there all day Lin, in cold armor. Drink your tea and then maybe you can snuggle up to me.” 

“I’m fine, Y/N, the shower helped.” Lin answered, but still found herself going to the mug and picked it up to start drinking it. Humming, she smiled to herself when she tasted the hint of whiskey that was laced in it. You knew her too well. 

Walking over to her armor, she grabbed a towel from the pile in the basket before drying it off. Thankfully it didn’t look like it’d need to be polished. Bringing it to the bedroom, she placed it back in its case. Returning back to her tea, she took another long sip of it before setting it back on the table before going back into the kitchen. 

Arms slid around your waist again, lips pressed into your clothed shoulder. “Do you need any help in here?” 

“Hmm, if you want to get plates down and pull the pan out of the oven?” You asked, leaning into her. 

“I can do that.” Lin murmured, reaching around to steal a piece of the finely chopped, brightly colored vegetables before you could smack her hand with your wooden spoon. 

Chuckling, Lin hurried off with the plates. Setting them on the table, she also reached for glasses for some wine. The two of you deserved it. Making it back into the kitchen, she nudged you gently to move you away from the oven. Pulling it open, she pulled it out and groaned at the smell of the baked salmon that had been marinated in lemon, orange, and probably your famous mango sauce if she was looking at it correctly. 

“Spirits Y/N, this smells and looks amazing.” Lin said moving to bring it to a table with oven mitts. 

“I had a feeling you could use a good meal tonight.” You answered with a smile as you finished the dumpling soup and moved to saute the vegetables quickly. 

Grabbing a couple of bowls, Lin dished out soup for the both of them before bringing it over to the table. With the vegetables done next, you dished them out over some rice before following her over to the table. 

Lin walked over to your guys bar area and grabbed a bottle of wine. Uncorking it as she walked over to you again, she poured both of you some wine before sitting across from you. 

“You didn’t have to do all of this you know.” Lin said, a small smile still crossing her features.

“I wanted to Lin, I got home early and wanted to do something nice for you. And get laundry done.” You smiled at her. “Besides, the leftovers will be great for the work week.”

“Mmm, that’s true.” Lin agreed, digging into the salmon, a moan escaped at the tastes that invaded her mouth. “Speaking of, it’s supposed to storm again tomorrow. Since we’re both off, I was thinking we could just stay in.”

“I would love that.” You beamed at her. It had been ages since the two of you had been able to just be home together with nothing to worry about. And you’d rip Korra’s head off if she came in search of Lin for one reason or another to clean up some kind of mess if she showed up tomorrow. Though, you didn’t mention it to Lin. 

The rest of dinner was spent in quiet conversation, you told her how you were able to get the funding for more areas in the museum besides the air bending section. You were also working with several nations leaders to expand the museum’s library and access to historical documents as well. Especially for non benders who had family who did bend but they weren’t allowed the same information by many places. Something you were striving to, loudly, change. Something she supported you every step of the way. 

Once dinner was done, she shooed you out of the kitchen to do the dishes herself. Making your way to the laundry, you put it away before meeting her back at the couch. Collapsing onto it, Lin’s arm came around you pulling you close and into her.  

The radio played softly in the background, some gentle jazz piece with pianos and saxophones taking the lead on it. Lin’s fingers reaching up to tug the hair tie holding your hair in the bun out to bury her fingers in it, releasing the jasmine smell into the air and letting it slide through her fingers. Lips moved to the top of your head and she just smiled against your hair. 

Your fingers found her free hand, playing with her fingers and measuring them against your own. Pressing against them, feeling them, knowing every callous there, every little scar that was there. Lacing your fingers back together, you brought your laced fingers to your lips to kiss them gently.  

“You’re incredible, do you know that?” You ask, looking up at Lin. 

“Only as amazing as you are.” Lin smiled, chuckling when you gave her a look. “I know, I’m sorry. Thank you...if I’m amazing to you, then that’s all that matters.” 

Nodding, you smiled and pushed up to kiss her, lips moving lazily against each as the warm, full feeling began to sink in for both of you. “Good girl. Come on, why don’t we go to bed, hm?”

“Spirits, that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” Lin agreed and kissed the top of your head again before standing. Moving around the room, lights were turned off, the radio was switched off, and the heat turned down. 

Moving to the bedroom, you climbed into bed with Lin. Rather than spoon tonight though, you tangled limbs together, arms around each other. Your face buried against her chest to listen to her steady heartbeat. You tried not to think of all the things in any given day that could stop this heart that you loved so adoringly, but you always trusted her to keep her promise. She would come home, she may be injured, but she would always come home. And that’s all that mattered. 

“I love you.” You murmured, smiling when you felt Lin’s arms tighten around you. 

“I love you too. More than you know.” 

And so, wrapped in blankets with her favorite person on the planet, Lin Beifong fell asleep. It had been a long day, it had been a day she could easily want to just forget. But coming home to you, coming home to someone who loved her, who wanted to take care of her instead of the other way around, always made those days bearable. 

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong/reader #lok fanfiction #legend of korra fanfiction #legend of korra fanfic

[flowerfan2]

Private Time - Ch. 4

Klaine, 9k, A03, M

Yup, here’s another chapter...

Chapter 4:  "... now you’re always taking up the washer with your nasty sheets, the hallway by Kurt’s room smells awful, and every single package from Amazon is just more lube!”

*****

It’s a Wednesday afternoon (or maybe Tuesday?  Blaine isn’t sure, the days are blending together so much he can hardly tell, they’re months into quarantine by now) and he is sitting around the coffee table with Sam and Kurt playing What Do You Meme.  It’s a dumb game even in the best of times, especially without the benefit of alcoholic beverages, but Sam just got the Game of Thrones expansion pack and he begged them to play.  It’s not like they have better things to do.

Just as Kurt is complaining again about what to play for a Tyrion card (“he only has one expression, there’s no opportunity for creativity here”) Rachel comes down the stairs and plants herself in front of them, hands on her hips.  

“I think we need to reconsider private time,” she announces, chin in the air.

Blaine’s brain (and a less rational part of his body) immediately sounds an alarm.  This is serious.  Since he and Kurt have gotten together, private time nights have been, without question, his favorite nights of the week, possibly of his life.  There’s no way he can let Rachel do away with private time.  He concentrates on keeping his face schooled to his most earnest choir boy expression. “Why, Rachel?  What’s wrong?”

Rachel harrumphs and glares at him.  Guess the innocent look didn’t work this time.  “You know what’s wrong.  All of you do.”

 Sam, bless his heart, really doesn’t.  “Do you need more time to practice?  We could add another night.  Friday, maybe?”

 Rachel turns her glare to Sam.  “No, we don’t need more  private time.” She drops down onto the less ratty of the two armchairs with a dramatic flounce.  “I didn’t think it would be so bad, living with three guys, since two of you are, you know, generally pretty well groomed and understand the critical importance of personal hygiene.  And until lately you all seemed fairly well behaved about... stuff.  But now you’re always taking up the washer with your nasty sheets, the hallway by Kurt’s room smells awful, and every single package from Amazon is just more lube!”  Rachel’s voice cracks at this last bit, and she buries her head in her hands.

 “That’s not true, Rachel, our last Amazon box had this new card game expansion pack-”

 Rachel whips her head up and Sam falls silent.  “Right, of course, how could I forget – and you were so excited you couldn’t even save it for game night.”

 Blaine frowns.  “We can save it for game night, Rach.  When’s the next one?”

 Rachel stands up and points her finger at Blaine, her freshly polished nails catching the light (the color is actually called “Teal the Cows Come Home,” although when Rachel did his toes with it earlier he pointed out that it’s a little too blue to properly be called teal).  “Exactly!”

 They all stay quiet as Rachel storms back up the stairs.  

 “I don’t even know when the next game night is,” Sam says, dragging his fingers through his blond hair. It’s gotten a bit long these past few months.  Maybe Blaine will offer to trim it for him.  

 “I think that was her point, Sam.”  Kurt rises from the lumpy couch and goes into the kitchen.  Blaine and Sam trail after him, and they crowd together to look at the big calendar taped to the refrigerator.  It is mostly filled with doodles and alcohol wish lists (“margaritas? Need limes/lemons/Sprite?”). Blaine has to look back two weeks to find a game night.

 “Rachel’s feeling left out.” Blaine shifts his gaze to the other two, who quickly slam “not it” fingers on  their noses.  Blaine sighs. “I’ll go talk to her.”

 *****

Blaine pauses outside Rachel’s door.  There’s a shiny gold star with “Diva Sleeping” hanging from the doorknob, and it swings back and forth when he knocks.  

 “Who is it?”

 Blaine stifles a laugh. There really aren’t that many possibilities.  

 “It’s Blaine.  Do you want to go for a walk?  It’s really nice outside.  Sunny and almost seventy.”

 “You always go running with Sam.”

 This is true, although Blaine still wishes he could just go by himself sometimes.  Alas, that is not to be, not if he wants to maintain roommate harmony in these crazy times.  “Yeah, I know, but we could just go for a walk.  Head over to campus, see what things look like these days.”

 There’s a pause, and then a quiet “okay.”

 Blaine turns to go back downstairs when Rachel sticks her head out of her door.  “Blaine - what should I wear?”

 “To go for a walk?”

 Rachel narrows her eyes at him.  “Yes, that’s what I said.  Is this an exercise walk, or a…”  she trails off, her eyebrows drawing together as she searches for the word.

 “A stroll?”  Blaine suggests.  It sounds suitably Rachel-appropriate that it might cheer her up.

 Rachel allows a little smile to tug at her mouth.  “Yes. A stroll.”

 “Which do you want it to be?”  

 Rachel looks back into her room, and Blaine knows she is considering her outfit choices.  It’s fine, he gets this from Kurt all the time.

 “I have a new dress I was going to wear for the music department’s spring awards ceremony…”  She looks up at Blaine.  “I hate that everything is cancelled.”  The ongoing disappointment at everything they look forward to disappearing is hard to escape.  Blaine knows how she feels.

 “Yeah.  Me too.”

 Rachel nods, and then straightens her shoulders.  “A stroll, then.”  She gives Blaine a look that clearly indicates what she thinks of his sweatpants and old Dalton shirt.  “You have to change too.”

 “Obviously,” Blaine replies, smiling.

 When they meet up downstairs a little while later, Blaine is quick to admire Rachel’s pretty pink dress and matching white tote bag adorned with pink and yellow daisies.  Rachel beams, and praises Blaine as well (he’s got on a blue shawl neck sweater that he knows Kurt will enjoy petting later, over a pink button up and slim dove gray pants).

 “Have a nice time,” Kurt says as they leave, giving Blaine an appreciate wink.

 As soon as they get outside, Rachel does a little twirl on the sidewalk.  She takes Blaine’s arm as they start off down the street.  Blaine takes in a big breath of fresh air, and they exchange a pleased look.  This was definitely a good idea.

 There are quite a few blocks of residential neighborhood before they get to campus.  As they get closer, the rickety multi-family buildings and student apartments give way to more respectable looking houses, interspersed with smaller university buildings.  The atmosphere seems strange, though, as it always does these days. It’s definitely not normal without the expected traffic from cars and bicycles – there’s far less of that since everyone is working from home.  Most classes are over by this point anyway, but it still seems odd without clusters of students hanging out and walking purposefully here and there.      

 At least the weather is starting to get better.  New England doesn’t so much have spring as an extended winter followed by surprising sunshine in June.

 They make their way through the law school campus, commenting on how the grass miraculously always looks green in the quad.  The university is apparently still spending plenty of money on grounds keeping.  At least it means some people still have jobs.  Rachel lets out a melancholy sigh as they go past the music buildings.  “It seems like forever since I practiced with a real piano.”

 “I know,” Blaine says, squeezing her arm in sympathy.  Then he gets an idea, and wonders why he hasn’t thought of it before.  “I can play the piano, you know.  I could accompany you on my keyboard, if you wanted.  It might be fun, even if we’re just messing around.”

 Rachel turns and gives him an appraising look.  “Are you any good?  Because I don’t want to waste my time if you’re not.”

 Blaine isn’t even offended, it’s such a Rachel thing to say.  “I am, I promise.  But we can try it out and you can judge for yourself.  No worries either way.”

 Rachel nods. “Okay.  Maybe when we get home.”

 They pass the big science center and walk through the plaza, stopping for a minute to watch the fountain which sprays water over a bunch of big rocks.  Usually this time of year there are tourists congregating here, but today it’s quiet, like everywhere else.  

 Blaine gets a whiff of what smells like curry, and he looks around to see that the tandoor food truck is pulled up in its usual space.  “Looks like they’re doing call-ahead orders,” Blaine says.

 “I would die for some biryani,” Rachel replies wistfully.  “And veggie korma.  They do such a good job with their vegetarian options.  Do you think we could get take-out on our way back?”

 “Sure.  But we have to let Kurt disinfect the containers before we open anything.”

 “Of course,” Rachel says, agreeing easily.  They had some heated debates about take-out in the early days of the pandemic, with Blaine arguing that unless they put the food directly into their eyes there was no way for the virus to be transmitted, and Rachel going through a period of intense anxiety about anything that couldn’t itself be quarantined for three days, but after a few weeks their desire for pizza and hot wings won out. Kurt insisted, however, that he be the one to make sure that everything that came into the house was carefully cleaned before they touched it, and that everyone washed their hands before any actual eating commenced.  No one objected.  It’s been hard to find a balance between feeling safe and living their lives, but they’re doing their best.

 Blaine and Rachel pass through a tall ornate metal gate and into the yard.  There are a fair number of people here, spread out on the grass enjoying the mild weather.  Blaine glances quickly at Rachel.  “Do you want to sit for a while?”

 She looks around. “It’s more crowded than I imagined it would be.”

 “Amazing how quickly we’ve adjusted to the idea that people are dangerous,” Blaine says.  He knows how she’s feeling.  Even with masks on, and at an appropriately socially distancing six feet away, it doesn’t feel right to be close to other people. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

 They weave between the stately brick buildings and find a smaller courtyard with a little less foot traffic.  “Perfect,” says Rachel, taking a rolled up sheet out of her bag and spreading it on the grass.  They sit down, and Rachel pulls out two bottles of flavored seltzer and a tupperware container with a bunch of grapes and some wheat thins.

 “It’s the not most elegant picnic, but I thought it was better than nothing.”

 “It’s lovely, Rachel, thank you.”

 “I’m sure Kurt would be appalled at the lack of cloth napkins.”

 Blaine chuckles.  “I wouldn’t know.  We haven’t been on a picnic.”

 Rachel’s eyes widen. “You haven’t?  That’s one of Kurt’s favorite date ideas.”

 Blaine frowns.  “We haven’t exactly gone on many dates.” <i>Any</i> dates, he thinks to himself.  He and Kurt got together in such a weird way, trapped in quarantine for weeks while they crushed on each other until they couldn’t resist any longer.  Their date opportunities are severely limited - they can’t go out to restaurants, or coffee shops, or see a movie or a show.  While they have the perfect excuse to spend time together, it might be nice to do something special for a change.  “I guess I really don’t know what kind of date he’d like.”

 “Oh.”  Rachel pulls out a grape and pops it into her mouth. “Well, then, you’ve got some thinking to do, haven’t you?”

 “What, you don’t think eating every meal in front of the television while Sam tells us how many crunches he did is sexy?”

 Rachel grins.  “It depends.  What is Sam wearing in this scenario?”

 “Ha ha, very funny.” Blaine pulls a grape off the stem and rolls it around in his fingers.  “Maybe you could give me some ideas of things you think Kurt would like? You know him a lot better than I do.”

 Rachel gives him a fond smile.  “I’d be happy to.”  She finishes chewing the cracker in her mouth and lies down on the blanket, closing her eyes. “I miss sex,” she says, and Blaine nearly chokes on his seltzer.

 “What?”

 “You heard me.  Not all of us were gifted with a quarantine-approved boyfriend.  I miss sex. The fun, the excitement.  The awkward noises.  The orgasms.”

 Blaine squirms a little but he knows it must have taken Rachel quite a lot to reveal this. Taking a breath, he lies down next to her.  She clearly needs to talk, and it might be easier for them both if they aren’t looking at each other.

 “Were you, um, dating anyone, before the shut-down?”

 Rachel sighs.  “Not for a while.  I haven’t had a long-term relationship in years, but there were a few promising possibilities.”

 “It’s kind of tough to date now,” Blaine says.

 “Right?”  Rachel sighs.  “Some of my friends are still hooking up, you know.”

 This strikes Blaine as insane.  You can’t hook up from six feet away.  “Really?”

 “Really.  I even thought about it… there’s an old flame I see every once in a while, Jesse. I think he’d be up for it-”  Rachel cuts herself off and giggles at her phrasing.

 “He’d be crazy not to want to be with you, Rachel, but I don’t think now is a good time.  Even if he says he’s healthy, he could be asymptomatic. And then you could get sick, and…” And all of us would catch it, too, Blaine thinks.

 “I know, I know.  I’m not going to do it.”  Rachel shifts and turns on her side, and Blaine turns to face her.  “Can I ask you something?”

 Suddenly they’re a little too close for comfort, and Blaine tenses.  Rachel isn’t going to ask to kiss him, is she?  It wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought he’d be open to it, even though Blaine has always been clear that he wasn’t interested in girls that way.  But Rachel knows he’s with Kurt, she’d never… well, only one way to find out.  At least she’s asking first and not just groping him while he’s drugged up on cold medicine.  “Sure, you can ask me anything.”

 Rachel bites her lip, then apparently decides to go for it.  “Do you think Sam would be interested in me?”

 Blaine almost laughs at his own obliviousness.  Of course Rachel’s not interested in him, she definitely seems more into the jock type anyway.  “Sam? I don’t know, maybe.”

 “Come on, you guys are close.  You must have some idea.  What does he think of me?”

 Blaine tries to think of the best way to answer this.  “I know he thinks you’re very attractive,” he begins.  None of them have missed how Sam practically drools over Rachel when she does yoga with Kurt.  Frankly they all leer at each other during yoga.  It’s a group leer-fest, everyone’s invited.

 “Well, of course,” Rachel says, smiling to show that she’s joking – partially joking, anyway.  “But do you think he’d be interested in, you know…?”

 Blaine is quite certain that Sam would jump at the chance to get hot and sweaty with Rachel, but he’s not sure what would happen after that.  It might make the rest of their quarantine very awkward if things didn’t go well.

 “Do you think I intimidate him?”  Rachel goes on, pressing the subject.  “I do that to people.  I know I’m bossy, it’s one of my best traits.  I like to tell people what to do.  A lot of guys like it.”

 Blaine absolutely does not blush, thinking about how he and Kurt have been engaging in some rather arousing professor-student role play.  Nope, not thinking about that at all.

 “And it doesn’t have to be a big thing-” Rachel snorts.  “Although, you know, if it was, that would be fine-” Another snort-giggle.  

 Blaine puts his hand over his face.  He can’t bring himself to respond.

 “I mean it doesn’t need to be too serious,” Rachel goes on.  “We can just have a wank together, help each other out.  Enjoy some <i>private time</i> but, you know, with mutual orgasms.  I know how much Sam enjoys his time alone… he’s very… vocal about it… I bet he wouldn’t mind some company…”  Rachel’s voice has acquired a sultry tone Blaine has never heard before.  “Blaine… am I making you uncomfortable?”  She’s clearly having way too much fun with this, and Blaine can’t decide if he is more amused or embarrassed.  In either case, it’s time to change the subject.

 “We should probably get back.”  Blaine sits up and puts the lid on the tupperware, pressing it down to seal the edges. Rachel leans up on an elbow and smirks at him.  “Too much information?”

 Blaine shakes his head despairingly.  “We’ve been in quarantine together for two months, and there’s no end in sight.  I think ‘private’ has kind of lost its meaning.”

 Rachel stands up and smooths her hands down her dress as Blaine rolls up the blanket.  “Well, it’s decided.  I’m going to take a long shower, slather myself in body lotion, put on my favorite lace underthings, and proposition Sam.  Tonight.”

 “But private time isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

 Rachel looks at Blaine as if he’s gone off his rocker.  “I’m not going to spend my private time hooking up with a boy, Blaine.  I need all the time I can get for vocal practice. I’m serious about my instrument, and I’m not going to allow this pandemic to get in the way of my future stardom.”  Rachel huffs and walks away.

 Stunned, Blaine quickly grabs their belongings and follows Rachel, chastising himself.  He’s become so used to having relations with Kurt during private time that he forgot private time wasn’t supposed to be for sex.  He’s just about to apologize to Rachel when she turns and grins at him, her eyes sparkling with laughter.  “Gotcha!”

#klaine #klaine fic #glee fic #blaine anderson #rachel berry #private time

[wolfstarisfxckingcanon]

Don’t forget about this /part 3

Word count: 2918

Summary: (Part three of my don’t forget about this fanfics. In case you haven’t read them:) Sirius had been really drunk some night several weeks ago. He and Remus kissed and Remus told him not to forget about it. Sirius did and they got into a fight. Now some weeks have passed and it’s full moon again...

Remus Lupin took a look around. Dust was floating through the air, the first weak sun’s rays were shining through the window. Where was he? Rotten wooden floor, the old piano, the smell of mold, rain and wood.

Finally he started to understand. He was standing in the shrieking shack, his shirt torn, his head hurting… it must have been full moon again.

Now he recognized his friends, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter standing only a few feet away. They were both looking exhausted, but relieved that their friend had finally turned back into his human form again. For a moment Remus just kept staring at them, his first instinct was to see if they were hurt… if he had hurt them. Peter looked fine, he only had some small scratches on his arm, nothing too serious. But James, he had a big red bloodstain on his shirt…

“Oh god! Are you alright?” Remus whispered concerned, with a weak voice and walked towards Potter.

“Don’t worry about it”, James told him, trying to cover the red spot with his left hand, so that his friend didn’t have to see it, “it’s not too bad. One visit to the hospital wing and I’m gonna be as good as new.” He smiled a bit in order to comfort his friend, but he was very pale, some drops of sweat were visible on his forehead. No, he didn’t look alright, he looked agonized, Moony thought, feeling the lump in his throat.

He was so sick of this. He was sick of those sleepless nights. He was sick of feeling like a monster. He was sick of hurting his friends, of them playing it down to protect him. It was not fair, they shouldn’t have to suffer every single full moon, just for him, they should never have gotten hurt because of him and they should never get hurt again… It must be so hard, he thought, especially now, that it was only the two of them.

Over two months had passed since the night he and Sirius had had this… moment. And they hadn’t really spoken ever since. They had tried to, the day after, but Sirius didn’t seem to remember anything about that night, which made Remus so upset he ran away and hid in the room of requirement. When he came back late at night, Sirius tried to talk to him, tried to explain so desperately how he remembered now, but Remus… he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to listen. He told the other boy to leave him alone. And the next day it felt even weirder to speak to each other, just like the day after, or the week after… or the month. At some point, both of them had given up on each other. None of them felt as if the other wanted them to talk or even as if they wanted to have them back in their life again.

It had been a hard time. Not only for the two of them, but for all of the marauders. The atmosphere in the dorm was always so tense. It was so quiet all the time, no stupid jokes, no serious conversations, not even some light talks, nothing. Peter and James always had to choose whether they wanted to spend the day with Padfoot or Moony and they felt torn every single time. And then when the two estranged boys were forced to talk to each other, due to a school project maybe, they only said the necessary, usually not more than single words and parted ways again as soon as possible.

When the three marauders arrived at the dorm again, Sirius had already gone to breakfast, which made Remus feel relieved, but also incredibly sad somehow.  Peter took a quick shower before leaving as well, while James came up with some crazy story about how he got his wounds and went to the hospital wing.

Once they were gone Remus took a shower too, before taking care of his own wounds. Most of them weren’t too deep, except for the one he had on his face. Great, he thought, just where everyone can see. While getting dressed he already tried to come up with what to tell all those nosy idiots who were going to ask him about it throughout the day, but his head hurt too much and he couldn’t exactly think straight.

When he was ready he sat down on his bed, all he needed was a little break before going to class. His wounds burned, his head hurt, his stomach was cramped. No he couldn’t join class in this condition. Maybe if he skipped the first lesson, he would feel better afterwards. Plus they had McGonagall and she knows what was going on anyways, Lupin thought to himself, before lying down. With his finger and thump he started rubbing his forehead, hoping for his headache to magically disappear, (which of course, it didn’t,) then opened his eyes again and sighed loudly.

It was only now that he discovered that there was something on his nightstand that didn’t usually belong there. He sat up again. A big red cup filled with coffee, that was still at least a little warm and a bar of his favorite dark chocolate. No way, that couldn’t have been Peter or James. Does that mean…?

Looking around the room again, Remus started to realize other small things, that were somehow different than before. The bed he was sitting on right now had been freshly made and he was sure that he left it all messy the night before. And there on the floor he spotted his favorite woolly sweater, the sweater he always wore when having a hard day. It had been washed, folded and put in front of his closet.

“Sirius”, he softly said to himself, “why did you…?”

He wanted to help me, Remus figured out, he wanted to help but he couldn’t do it the way he used to, so he did… this?

The boy frowned, a little confused he leaned back on the huge stack of pillows again and took a little sip of coffee, then ate the first piece of chocolate, letting it melt slowly in his mouth. Not quite the healthiest breakfast one can have, but after a night like this, Moony couldn’t imagine a better one. It felt as if every sip of the dark drink gave him a little more energy, a little more life, and as if every bite of chocolate made his headache slowly go away.

Now, that all the other Griffindors had classes, it was completely silent in the dorm. All you could hear was the birds outside singing happily to greet the day. Remus drowned the sound by sighing loudly once again. Not an annoyed sigh though, rather one letting out all of the stress, all of the pain…

It was the first time in weeks that the young wizard had experienced such a silence. Sharing a room with your friends is great, of course, but you never have a minute for yourself (unless you’re a fxcking werewolf who has to skip class every once in a while, Remus thought).

But now he was alone, now he had time to think, think about everything that had happened lately. And by everything he meant Sirius and all the things that had happened between them. He was still angry. Sirius had hurt him really bad, he knew how much he meant to him and still… No he didn’t miss talking to Padfoot at all. He didn’t miss his stupid jokes, or his stupid pretty face, or playing with his stupid long hair while listening to Queen songs together and he totally didn’t miss that stupid smile Black had, or rather used to have, every time Remus walked into the room…

Okay fine, maybe he did miss him.

At least a bit.

Maybe he missed Sirius’ smell, that unique sweet odor combined with the smell of cigarettes and lemon tea (“Just because I am a dark, bad ass rebel doesn’t mean I can’t value a good cup of tea, Moony!”). Or maybe he missed sitting way too close to him every single time they sat together and maybe he also missed that stupid smile, that he, Remus smiled every time Sirius entered the room.

But what was the use of admitting all that? Sirius probably didn’t miss him at all, Remus thought and once those words appeared in his head, he felt as if his heart broke into thousands of pieces, as if it ached horribly. He took another bite of chocolate, this heavenly chocolate that Sirius had gotten him.

Yes, exactly, Sirius had gotten him that chocolate. Maybe, Moony thought, maybe there was a chance, even if it only was a small one, that Sirius did miss him as well. And maybe, even if all of that was just in his head and the other boy just wanted to be nice, wanted to be polite or helpful, maybe the chance was worth giving a shot.

He took the last big sip of coffee, put on his jumper (fxck school uniforms, today’s a jumper day!) and put the rest of the chocolate in his pocket. Who knows what the rest of the day might bring, if I end up sobbing ugly on the toilet because I interpreted my love’s actions wrong, I might as well eat the rest of this!, he thought to himself while grabbing his backpack and running towards McGonagall’s class room.

He was already walking through the corridor, when it occurred to him that he was going to interrupt her class now, having everyone’s eyes fixed on him, on his wound. And what was he going to do anyway? Storm into the room, recite some French love poem and carry Sirius outside like a bride? Oh boy, he should have just waited in his room for Padfoot’s class to end, but then again he felt as if he’d go crazy doing nothing now. And so he knocked on McGonagall’s door.

It was Longbottom, who opened it. He looked at the wound in the other Griffindor’s face for a moment, his mouth slightly open, he looked shocked, but tried his best not to show it by sitting down quickly again.

“Good morning, Pro… Professor”, Remus stuttered a bit. Having the whole class watching him as if he had just arrived from the future to pronounce the apocalypse didn’t help the already pretty anxious boy.

“I… I knocked my head… in the… in the shower this morning and felt a little dizzy. So I came later. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Knocked your head in the shower, what the hell Remus, this doesn’t look as if you had knocked your head in the goddamn shower.

“Of course Mister Lupin. I hope you feel better by now. But would you be so nice and sit down so that I can continue with my class?” Professor McGonagall replied with her posh voice.

You’re still an idiot, he thought to himself while walking down the aisle and sitting down on his usual spot… right next to Sirius.  

Sirius looked tired.He probably had spent most of the night lying awake, thinking about what he could do for Moony (or at least that’s what Moony liked to imagine). His tie was hanging loosely around his neck and his hair was tied into the messiest bun in the world history of messy buns. He looked like mess, a quite pretty mess though, Remus thought.

Sirius glanced at him carefully, then, when discovering that Remus hadn’t brought any of his stuff, slowly slid his book towards his friend, so that the other boy could follow the class. Remus grabbed a pencil and started writing on one of the pages:

Thank you

Sirius smirked, when he saw the little message, took out his own pencil and answered:

For sharing my book?

You know for what, idiot, Remus scribbled quickly

Don’t worry about it

For a moment they both just sat there, pretending to listen to the Professor, while actually trying not to stare at one another and make this more awkward than it already was. Should I write something else? What if I annoy him? What if I annoy him if I don’t write anything what if-

Before Remus could decide what to do, Sirius had already picked up his pencil again and, without looking at the page, he quickly wrote:

Are you okay?

I was worried

He was worried. Sirius Black was still worried about Remus’ wellbeing and that little thought alone made Remus smile widely. But then he remembered…

You should be worried about James.

He’s gonna be fine, Moony, Sirius comforted him without hesitation.

“Am I right Mr. Black?” The high pitched voice of McGonagall made Sirius look up again.

“Ugh, yeah, Professor. Totally. You’re making some really good points!” Sirius answered provocatively, obviously having no idea of what was going on.

“I was just saying”, his Professor repeated herself with a strict tone in her voice, “how you, Mr. Black and your friend Mr. Lupin as well, are wasting your potential by doodling and sketching in your book!”

“Well… you’re not wrong Professor-“

“Then, start paying attention again, Mr. Black!” McGonagall cut him off immediately and continued her lesson.

Sirius sighed and started taking notes again and Remus followed his example. They talked again, he thought, or maybe not talked but they wrote to each other. Sirius was fine, Sirius wanted to communicate again. That was good that was progress, that was… amazing. He felt his cheeks getting warmer the more he thought about it. One more look at the book just to make sure it was real, before continuing taking notes for class again.

Just sitting so close to Sirius felt weirdly exciting. And then every once in a while they almost touched. While writing Sirius’ hand would almost touch Remus’ elbow and every time it happened Remus’ heart felt as if it skipped several beats.

Then, finally, when Professor McGonagall wrote the name of a new spell on the board, Sirius used his chance to start writing something on the page of his book again. Lupin moved his head to the right and the left, attempting to read it while the other boy was still writing, not seeing their Professor coming closer.

“Uh hum!” She cleared her throat to get the boys’ attention, before closing the book and taking it with her.

Nooo, don’t! Remus almost shouted. He wanted to know so, so badly what his crush had written for him. Even though it was only a stupid note in a stupid schoolbook. After weeks of ignoring each other, he wanted nothing but reading that note. But he couldn’t. He had to wait and even though every single minute felt like torture he had to stay calm.

When inhaling he could smell that familiar odor of lemon tee and smoke and when exhaling he already missed it. He could feel Sirius being close and all of a sudden he had so many things to say, so much to explain, so much to apologize for, but now, that he finally had the courage to, he couldn’t! He just wanted to, no, he needed to know if Sirius felt the same. He needed to know right now if Sirius still liked him the way he said he would that night. What if he had changed his mind, what if everything was different after not talking for so long… He needed to know… but he was caught here, in class. So close to the boy of his dreams not able to even say a single word.

That’s when he suddenly felt Sirius’ hand around his wrist. At first he didn’t get who had touched him, he almost pulled his hand away. But then he let him take it, let him lay it down in his lap. What was that? Some kind of a weird hit on? Some bad attempt at being romantic? But then he felt the cold tip of a ball pen writing on his hand. He had to smile a bit, since it was tickling him. Sirius only wrote five words, then he waited for Remus to pull his hand away again. And Remus did, even though every single brain cell of his told him to keep his hand lying in Sirius’ much bigger, much warmer one. He immediately looked down at the smudged handwriting.

Skip next lesson with me?

Even though he tried to, Remus couldn’t stop himself from smiling. After all, Sirius was probably the only person who could make him smile like this after such a night. Trying to hide his smile, Remus covered his mouth with the hand Sirius had just written on, while the other boy glanced at him waiting for a reaction. Carefully, just slowly enough so that nobody else could see, Remus nodded.

Yes, he was definitely going to skip that next lesson. Who needs potions class anyway? No, as soon as McGonagall would finish he would grab his backpack and Sirius’ would grab his and they’d just run outside together.

Together, after so long. Would it all work out, Remus asked himself. Would they both be forgiving and talk it all out. What if not? But right now, that didn’t matter. All that mattered to Remus in that exact moment was that any minute now they’d walk out together.

Together… wasn’t that a beautiful word?

@of-stars-and-moon @todays-quote @wewhohavefailed @dude-bro-tm @siriuslyxblack @remus-la-swearwolf @wolfstar-matriarch @nerdyqueerfangirl @kierabee123 @knduniverse @queenofhellish @meandminniemcg @fayerye (they’re not that sad this time i guess so i hope i’m slowly making it up to you :) ) @flawlessflatline @therealhmmlingle @blackwolfofhogwarts @jencala @rjpea @a-queer-kids-blog @maraudersvs @seriouslyblacklikemysoul @rosielupin @rosielupin @padfootlupinblack @wynd27  @full-moon-008

If I tagged anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged anymore for whatever reason please tell me so I don’t want to bother you. 

If I didn’t tag you and you want to be tagged in future fanfictions of mine or only the “don’t forget about this” ones then you can tell me so in the comments. 

(I hope you enjoyed it, I really put a lot of work into it because it was requested so much. (I have like a thousand drafts on my laptop because they were never good enough and I still don’t think this one is but I guess I finally had to post a part three...) I have been way too busy to write lately but I missed it so much and I loved working on that one so thanks to all of you for keeping me motivated and asking for it all the time. 

Thanks in advance for every reblog and comment. Your nice words always make me really happy!)

#wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstart fanfic #wolfstar headcanon #Remus Lupin #remus x sirius #remusxsirius #SIRIUSxREMUS #Sirius Black #sirius x remus #James Potter #peter pettigrew #minerva mcgonagall #mcgongall #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter ships #writing #fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #Marauders #marauders era #marauders headcanon #marauders fic

[osmiumamygdala]

Dandelion

Colossus X @boneeating--baastard 's oc, SFW, fluff, Petey being a mother hen, as always.

I used some Russian in this (please do correct me if you see anything wrong so I can fix it!) So some translations:

Lapochka= darling/dear

Milyy= sweet/cute

volzlyublennyy= beloved 

A-one, a-two, a-one two three four!

The heel of Balea's sneakers squeak upon hitting the floor, but their tempo remains impeccable as always. Their fingers dance across the strings of their axe, the pluck-pluck-pluck shooting through the guitar's body and causing their chest to hum.

They aren't performing with their band right now-- no, this is all them, all alone, practicing in the empty art studio of the X-Mansion. Even so, they can imagine-- no, hear, hear as though it were right there-- the rest of the band, playing in synchrony, filling this small room with loud, delicious sound rather than the semi-awkward twang of them, solitary, with their guitar.

Yes, instead of this dark, cramped room, lined wall to wall with easels, paintings, sculptures, and paper mache, there is the steady beat of the drums, the thrill of the bass, the scream of a second guitar. Old, amateurly-made masks that line the wall opposite to them are screaming fans, faces drawn open in cheer. A poster to their left featuring a chameleon grasping a branch bids them "hang in there!" And so, they do.

They've been "hanging in there" all day. All week. All their life, really. Between University, general anxiety, and the normal daily grind-- which is to say, the abnormal shit-storm their life has become since squeezing themself into a superhero uniform-- they really can't seem to catch a break.

Music is a whole different ballpark. Can it be hard work? Yes. But the satisfaction they know they'll feel the second they play the rep right just once, godammit, will be worth it all. They've been working so hard already. The minutes have blurred together into one gross, energy drink infused nightmare. Their fingertips are numb, and they're pretty certain their throat has been torn up so wretchedly that lemon juice won't help it now.

One more rep. Just one more rep.

.

.

.

Piotr finds them at a quarter to midnight. He hears them before he sees them; their voice casting down the empty hallway and echoing back. He stops and listens before trying anything. One part of him feels bad for doing it. After all, he wouldn't want anyone sneaking up on him and stealing peeks at his unfinished artwork without his say. But he can't help himself; hearing his dearest's music in the air is a cause for pause, and so he stops in front of the door, hand hovering above the doorknob, and sighs happily as their melody ebbs and flows and weaves throughout the air.

They're doing a cover of a song right now. He's never been up-to-date with music (he's a little old school, and he'll be the first to admit it. He spends his time listening to classical piano and Neil Diamond), but he thinks he knows this one. It sounds like...oh, what was it called...Creep? By...Radiohead!

Their voice wavers out on the last "I don't belong here," and they let out a nasty sounding cough. He ducks his head down to peer into the slim, rectangular window on the door. He sees them. Balea. That sweet, steadfast, optimistic soul that managed to capture his heart and all of him with it. Their back is facing towards him, their shoulders are sagged as they lean forward, perched on a stool (poor posture, he thinks. We should have a word about that), they're still wearing that same flannel from way earlier in the day (sweat-soaked. Poor thing must be exhausted) and he sees them take a swig of--

Monster. At midnight? Oh no.

They start plucking at the guitar strings again, this time starting up an Insidious original, but he doesn't allow himself to be distracted.

He swings the door upon gently, right as the opening verse begins.

"Balea," He says.

They startle, kicking some empty energy drink cans that were in front of them and nearly dropping their guitar.

"Are you aware of the time?"

"Jesus, big guy! You about gave me a heart attack!" Balea says, their voice raspy. They nervously push their glasses up the bridge of their nose.

Piotr picks one of the energy drink cans--Rockstar--off the ground, wiggles it, and grins, amused. "You mean, before these do?"

"Hah. Hah." Balea laughs humorlessly.

"Balea, my dandelion. Time?"

Balea blanks. "Err…uh...eight, right?"

"Lapochka," he says, sadly and softly, "is midnight.”

They look at the floor, stunned. "Oh."

"How long have you been playing?"

Balea scrubs at their eyes for a moment. "Ah, uh, four hours I think?"

He tsks and walks farther into the room until he's standing right in front of them. He kneels down, places their guitar lightly on the ground, takes their small hands, and rubs his large thumb over one of their bandaged fingers.

"You need sleep," he says gently.

"I need," Balea says, with a hint of annoyance, "to get better. I keep messing up this one song. Just the one! I HAVE to get it before I sleep tonight! I've almost got it!"

Piotr chuckles and moves his right hand to their left cheek. He smiles as he scans over their face, which is pulled into a scowl at the moment. Regardless of the expression, he finds them to be gorgeous, handsome, stunning-- any combination of words he can find to explain the joy he feels upon seeing them.

Even here, in this dark room, and even sleep-deprived and sweaty and peppered with Spiderman band-aids as they are, he sees a piece of art. No person could ever hope to capture their beauty in ink, he thinks, and neither in clay or stone, nor paint or pixels. They are ethereal to him.

Which is why seeing the bags under their eyes and smelling the caffeine on their breath makes his heart clench.

"Please dandelion, you've been working so hard already. You need some rest."

Balea thinks it over for a minute, biting their lip in thought and gazing up into his eyes. "Why do you call me that?" They ask. "Dandelion?"

"I call you "Dandelion" because-" he pauses to plant a kiss to one of their bandaged fingers "-you are like dandelion!"

They frown. "I'm like a weed?"

Piotr is taken aback. He hadn't been expecting that. "Weed is...is just concept people came up with because they are annoyed when plants grow where they don't want them." He laughs at that internally; he was a farmer, and he's dealt with his fair share of 'weeds'. His point still stands, he thinks, because even those 'weeds' can be breathtaking, in his mind.

"You are like dandelion because you are so bright." He says. "And determined. And brave."

"How are dandelions or me brave or determined?" They ask incredulously.

"You stand apart from everything else," he explains. "Like dandelion. Bright and bold. When you perform I...I feel so proud of you. Seeing you, on stage, surrounded by so many people? I could never! But you, you stand there, head held high, and take it in, like flower taking water from soil!

And dandelions grow wherever they can. Even through concrete! You do, too! Whatever life throws at you, you fight through it, and if someone tries to pick you off, well, you just pop right back up, as hopeful as ever!"

Balea grins at that. They are one tough cookie! Many an enemy has learned about their quick regeneration too late.

"I remember the first time I saw you," he says. Balea fidgets in place. They don't really like to remember that day very much. They hadn’t really been themself that day. Not quite. "Before pulling you from the rubble, I thought 'there is no way anything could have survived this'. And then I found you, and pulled you free, and it was like seeing a flower raise its head on the first day of spring. Bright, brave, determined, bold--" he places a round of kisses on their hands "--beautiful."

Balea finds themself shivering under all the affection. "Shuddup, you're making me blush!"

Piotr grins and places a kiss on their cheek. "Milyy."

They giggle before being overcome by a large yawn.

"Sleepy little flower," Piotr comments. "See? Time for bed."

"Noooo," Balea moans. "Just had a Monster. My skeleton is VIBRATING."

"If I had my way," Piotr says sternly, "I would lock all Monsters in a safe and drop them in a bottomless pit."

Balea opens their mouth in mock horror. "That would KILL ME babe! I would die! How EVIL! And here I was thinking the X-Men were the good guys!"

"It is a necessary evil," Piotr says solemnly.

Balea harrumphs and folds their arms.

Piotr's face is beginning to hurt from smiling so much at his beloved, and that fact only makes him smile more. They look so cute when they pout.

"If you come to bed, volzlyublennyy, I will massage all your pain away. I know you get, ah...achy back after practicing too long."

"Just a massage?" Balea asks, wiggling their eyebrows.

Piotr deadpans. "It's midnight. I am tired, love. And you look half awake as is."

Balea shrugs. "Eh, worth a shot."

They bend over to pick up their guitar, placing it neatly in its case. At the same time, Piotr sets to work gathering up all the cans and tossing them in a bin by the door.

Balea stands up, almost falling over themself due to their tired, cramped legs and sudden light-headedness.

"Babe," they say. "Did you see that cool magic trick? I just, like, hopped dimensions."

"No," he says firmly. "You had too much monster and too little movement in four hours."

"Shhhh, no, babe. I've unlocked a secondary mutation!"

He sighs good-humoredly and watches for a moment as Balea attempts to put on their guitar case. Their joints keep popping as they get used to movement again, and they wobble back and forth on their heels unsteadily. Piotr intervenes quickly and takes the case from their hands, slinging it around his own shoulders.

"Honey, wh--" before Balea can finish their question, they are scooped up in a pair of big, strong arms.

That sends them into a fit of laughter. "Babe, babe!" They squeak breathlessly. "You aren't gonna carry me to the room, are you?"

"That is the plan, yes," Piotr says, hugging them close.

"What if someone sees us?" They ask, suddenly timid at the thought of anyone catching them like that.

"Everyone else went to bed at a reasonable hour, love." Piotr scolds, pinching their cheek.

Balea blows a raspberry at him. "Midnight is reasonable for me! I'm a busybody and a night owl, okay!?"

Piotr chuckles and walks out of the art studio, making sure to lock the door behind him (which, he realizes, is difficult when your arms are full of your giggling, squirming lover).

As he makes his way back to their room, he watches the drowsy face of his dearest. He finds it endearing, how they fight to stay awake just so they can have that promised massage and spend more time with him. He hums a little song to himself. Something rock, the title of which is lost to him. All is good

#xmen #fanfiction #fanfic #colossus #colossus x oc #Piotr Rasputin #piotr rasputin x oc #fluff #balea parez #i'm tagging them #because i'll definitely write more for them later

[bussanbaby]

come what may

When you’re immortal, there’s a point after a couple decades or maybe centuries, when everything becomes boring. It has happened to Magnus as well – after a long while of going through day-to-day motions, ordinary chores and mundane routines, he has gotten sick of them and instead searched for new ways to reinvent living without falling into absolute decadence.

He stopped doing his own laundry in favor of sending it to professional businesses, cooked rarely and instead snapped his fingers to conjure the best dishes from around the world; even walking or talking became a show of grace and elegance and poise to the point of not seeming remotely human underneath layers of satins and silks and the most expensive jewelry.

So this shouldn’t feel special, yet it is. The windowsill is cluttered full of clay pots with herbs preening in the natural light, mint and basil and rosemary alongside species that do not have a name in any language close to English; the window itself is thrown wide open, letting in a breeze smelling of pollen and carrying the buzz of the city.

The sun is low in the clouded sky, turning everything golden, glinting off of skyscrapers and putting any artificial light or neon to shame. It paints the calm surface of East River honey and lemon – absentmindedly, Magnus watches the colors shift while cargo boats float across the water, he lets his eyes follow the cars driving down the Brooklyn Bridge and anonymous pedestrians submerged in their own existences. The city feels alive, but hazy and sleepy at the same time; Magnus has the keen sense of home bloom slowly inside of his chest like a Jericho rose after drought.

There’s a radio atop one of the counters, playing both classics and popular songs with news scattered throughout, Alec is softly humming along to the current tune, all of it mixing with the faint echo of buskers by the apartment building. A helicopter flies across the sky and Alec hands him another plate. 

They’re doing the dishes after a dinner they cooked from fresh ingredients picked up at the market in the morning while they made their way through the city, hands tangled and swinging between them proudly. It’s such a mundane thing, but it fills Magnus with simple joy, with affection and a stillness he hasn’t felt forever.

The day is warm, the promise of rain hanging in the humid air, so there are fewer layers between them than usual – Magnus’ shirt is thin and silky, unbuttoned halfway down, while Alec sacrifices the shadowhunter aesthetic for a breezy gray t-shirt. They’re both barefoot, Alec is up to his elbows in bubbly soap suds, meticulously rubbing away at a stain with a faint smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. 

Magnus watches him for a moment – the ease in his posture, the unguarded expression on his face, how the sun lights up one of his irises. Magnus doesn’t look away when Alec glances over as he hands off another shimmering plate; water drips onto the counter when he stills mid-action, long eyelashes sweeping with slow blinks.

“What?” Alec asks softly, almost mumbling the word as the song in the background ends, a cheery presenter beginning a spiel neither of them is listening to, attention completely focused on each other.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking.” Magnus shrugs with one shoulder and takes the plate from Alec, wipes it down with the dishcloth in his hands and sets it on the drying rack alongside others. He could use magic of course, but that would miss the point why they’re doing it in the first place. It’s not essentially about time-efficiency or even basic cleanliness, but about the very core of it all - being home with his fiancé and finding comfort in simple notions, in their hips bumping and shoulders brushing from time to time while they move around the small space, cause it always feels too far away when they’re not touching, in casual conversations about whatever comes to mind since there’s no worrying about what to say next.

“About what?”

“About this, us. About how much you mean to me.”

It’s a wonderful thing to have been together for as long as they have and still be able to make Alec smile like that, where his eyes crinkle in the corners and his cheeks flush, where he looks so unbelievably happy, because of Magnus.

Alec leans over and Magnus pecks him on the mouth, his fingers lingering underneath Alec’s jaw for a couple of seconds as they stare at each other, eyes glimmering with mirth and adoration, because how lucky did they really get, to be where they are, to have all that they have, to be with each other?

“Only a month left.” Alec murmurs, stealing another soft kiss before putting his hands back into the soapy water. Magnus tips his head to the side, watches as Alec tries to fight down an excited grin, but it still breaks over his face, big and beautiful and Magnus completely understands.

“And then you’re mine forever.” They have been planning this for a while already - picking flowers, tailoring the suits, trying to keep the Shadow World peace intact, seating guests. Now, it’s almost here, like the hint of sun just before dawn and they’re both waiting to bathe in the glow. In the lengthy life Magnus has had, he has never been married, but he will be soon. Only thirty more days before he can officially call Alec his husband instead of his fiancé and sign every future important document with Lightwood-Bane.

“Don’t be silly, I already am.”  Alec scoffs, but his voice is still mellow as he sprinkles some water in Magnus’ face; Magnus is about to retaliate, ready to dip his fingers into the sink, but the song on the radio changes to a tune so familiar from many nights back in the good old times. It brings along a bout of nostalgia, every piano note tugging at the strings of Magnus’ heart as he takes a deeper breath and smiles.

“Dance with me, love.” He says and the moment Alec’s done wiping his hands on a dishcloth, Magnus reaches for him and pulls him in by the belt loops. Alec’s soft chuckle melts into a hum as Magnus presses closer, hands moving to rest around Alec’s waist.

They sway along to the lilting tones, with feet quiet on the kitchen tiles, eyes closed and smiles on their faces. Alec twines his arms around Magnus’ neck and rests their foreheads together; in serene moments like these, it’s easy to think the world is gentle.

There is a future waiting ahead, full of those pockets of peace, where it’s only the two of them with steadfast heartbeats and an endless amount of years to come. Because that’s what they have - a forever painted in trust and each other to lean on when things get difficult.

Magnus presses a kiss against Alec’s pliant mouth, then a couple more, his heart feeling full. They’ll dance like this again soon, but wearing gold and with all of their friends there to share their happiness. It still doesn’t feel real, that someone could love him enough to leave their entire world behind and offer an eternity with an ‘I do’.

“Hey,” Magnus sighs, his thumbs rubbing absent circles against Alec’s back. They still have their eyes closed, so when Alec bumps his nose against Magnus’, the warlock knows he’s listening. “I love you.”

“I love you too, my husband-to-be.” Alec answers, his voice thick with awe.

They dance until a storm breaks and washes the world anew; then, they leave the windows open and listen to the thunder, because the sun will soon rise again and they will be golden.

#malec #shadowhunters #posibane #magnus bane #alec lightwood #blushyalec #patronusmagnus #hufflebee #magnusbaene #my fics #this fic is alternatively titled 'how sappy can i get?'