#adam levine fan fic

[coltrainbat]

Hey, I have an inspiration request that I want you write, please. It's about the reader being a Victoria secret model and married to Chris Evans. One day, reader was in the fashion show and Chris is there with his brother, scott. he was there support her

My Angel 

A/N: Ok so while I’m not a huge fan of VS Fashion Shows (we all know) I shamelessly attended many VS sleepover watch parties and those girls got it! Queens! So for the purpose of this fic we are gonna do the Adam Levine (🤢) and Behati Prinsloo (🥰) outfit/moment. Linked here.

The stylist fiddled with your diamanté encrusted bodice. You took deep breathes as they adjusted and tightened at your body while easing your feet into the intricate knee length sandal heels.

You’ve walked runway plenty of times, it was your job for god’s sakes but when you were offered the chance to be a VS Angel let alone the Snow Angel while you couldn’t turn it down, you had reservations about walking down one of the biggest shows in the world in your underwear none the less.

Anxious how your husband, Chris Evans, would feel about the whole world seeing what only he does. Let’s just say his reaction was better than expected…

“Are you kidding me? You’re doing it. Omg baby that’s incredible! My girl, my wife, a VS Angel, holy shit!”

“Are you sure?? Chris I’m going to be in my UNDERWEAR, your mom will see it!”

“And…? She’ll be cheering you on just as hard as me. It’s a job honey, I’ve gotten in my underwear plenty of times.”

“That is true I’m just nervous I guess with everyone watching.”

“Hey, you’re gonna blow them away - I’ll be in the crowd, and you can look at me and it’ll be like no one else is there. Just pretend you’re strutting your stuff for me in the bedroom, it’s not different than what you do every night.” He purred the last line pulling you in by your waist.

“You’re still my Angel though.” He looked down at you, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes.

“Always your angel, baby” You kissed him.

The memory of last month was interrupted by the producer calling you.

“Y/N you walk in 2… go line up! Now!”

With only seconds to spare, you breathed in once more, planted on a smile and walked down to the sound of Trouble by Taylor Swift.

Walking the runway in long, gracious strides, waving your hands on either side of you to the crowd.

Grabbing Taylor’s hand and giving it a squeeze as you swanned past her.

And there he was. Front row. Centre stage.

Smiling like a Cheshire Cat at the sight of you. Grabbing Scott’s jacket, next to him, he shook him a little and pointed up to the stage, his face like a kid who just saw an ice cream van.

He stood up, hollering and hooting, cupping his hands around his mouth to extend the sound of

“That’s my wife!” “Go baby! Yes! Go Y/N.”

Scott next to him had equal enthusiasm as they clapped and cheered.

You made your way to the tip of the stage. You were going have fun with the large, fluffy wings on your back, grabbing onto the hidden handles tucked into the outrageous white feathers, you thrashed the wings inwards and outwards in a dramatic fashion as the chorus beat dropped.

Leaning forward, your eyes landed on Chris’s, blowing a kiss and winking at him.

He blew it back and the camera caught the romantic interaction between two lovers.

Once the show had ended and you had changed into a more modest outfit, you met Chris at the after party.

Spotting him immediately, he held out his hands ready to catch you as you ran towards him, jumping on him and wrapping your legs around his torso.

“Omg baby! You killed it.” His hands on your ass supporting you mid-air.

“Really?” Your hands cupped his head looking at him as his chin rested on your chest comfortably, his grip on you never faulting.

“Yes, now the whole world knows how good my Angel is.” He smirked; you bowed your head down to plant a kiss on his lips. He placed you on the floor to let you go hug your friends and family.

His hand stayed firmly on your waist, beaming with pride at your performance and feeling just a little smug that he’s married to a VS model.

[until-the-joy-drops-again]

It was Always You 1

*I was listening to this song and just REALLY wanted to write a story behind it... and it has since spiralled out of control lol.. I hope you like it*

Watching her singing, dancing around the room, her face relaxed and happy, the guilt hit me like a punch to the stomach. The realization of how selfish I was about to be took over every fiber of my being. For fuck sake Adam, its not like you just went away for the weekend... you walked out on her TWO FUCKING YEARS ago! Look at the life she has built for herself since then, look at how happy she is ...

As if she were reading my mind, she turned and smiled at me, singing the last of her lyrics but I didnt hear the words. Her beautiful hazel eyes were shining, her smile was easy, honest, true... what the fuck was I doing?

"Dude, dont you FUCKING dare."

I turned to the voice next to me, Adrien was staring at me, frowning. I started to open my mouth but he cut me off.

"Do you not see how she looks at you? How she smiles at you? She sure as fuck doesnt look like that for anyone else....you guys make each other happy and you both deserve that."

"But it's been two years-"

He cut me off, "you're here NOW."

I looked back out at her. I heard her song winding down and my guts twisted. My confidence cracked and the fear set in... would she understand why I did what I did? Fuck, would she even CARE to hear why? This past week this moment has been all I could think about, running EVERY possible outcome through, trying to find the perfect words, the perfect gestures, the perfect everything to make these past two years disappear. To get her to give me a chance to explain. It had all seemed so easy... but now... with her right here in front of me, it seemed impossible. What was I doing?

The music suddenly ended, and had I not been drowning in my own fear over what was coming, I would have laughed, The second the music stopped, everyone scattered back to the walls, leaving only her and I in the middle of the floor. She had turned to me again and smiled, I tried to smile back but I know it didnt work. She frowned ever so slightly and said my name, confusion and concern on her face, before she realized we were suddenly all alone. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she turned to look around her and I had to look away. She had a few more lines on her face now, but i still knew every single one of them by heart. I had never forgotten every inch of her, the way she squinted her eyes when she smiled with her whole soul, the way her nose crinkled up when she got fake angry at being teased, that spark in her eye when she talked to me. It all came rushing back, stabbing me like a knife. I tried to take a deep breath but it staggered as I knew there was no way out but forward... but I couldn't look at her... I cleared my throat in the silence that had overtaken the house.

"I, uh, wrote a new song..." it took all of my strength to turn and look at her again, "for you." I met her gaze and involuntary winced when her eyes got bigger, looking at me, confused and... scared? And she took a hesitant step towards me. Then Tom started the music on his keyboard and she, thankfully, looked at him. I dropped my gaze to the floor again, realizing I was rubbing the back of my neck with my hand... all too quickly, it was my cue to start singing... so I did.

"Woke up sweating from a dream....With a different kind of feeling, oh" I honestly felt like I was going to die. The idea that this could be the absolute last time of being around her, crushed me. I somehow had managed to lie to myself the past two years, that I would be ok without her, that I could breath and smile and feel joy away from her... but now, with her right there, right HERE... I realized none of that was true. She had always been the air I needed to breath, the water I needed to live...

"All day long my heart was beating...Searching for the meaning, oh" my body convulsed inward as I tried to take in a deep breath and find the strength to look up at her again, knowing her face wouldn't hold any of that easy happiness that I had been drinking in since I got here. I knew there would be a darkness that would settle in her eyes, maybe even anger at me for being gone and just coming back with a song without any other conversation, without even an 'I'm sorry.' Not that I had had a chance to, but still...

I dragged my eyes back to hers and almost forgot my next line. The darkness was there, but there was no anger, there was an openness that grabbed my heart with both hands and clung to it. Please God let that stay. Please let that stay... but when she blinked the look was gone and she seemed so far away, lost in her head somewhere... I had to get her back.

"Hazel eyes," I stepped towards her, planning to close the distance between us but she snapped out of her trance with such fire in her eyes, it stopped me dead in my tracks. I couldn't read what it meant, but she was really good at being stoic, I was trying to find any of her little tells that would let me break through to her just a little, but I couldn't find any. But then, as quick as it appeared, the mask was gone... and I saw her heart rip apart.

The pain on her face killed me. I had never seen her that vulnerable before with that much hurt showing openly. And I was the one that caused it. Every piece of me was on fire, I wanted to take that pain from her, I NEEDED to take it from her. I would trade her all the happiness I have ever known to make her not feel like she was. I instinctively moved up to her, trying to figure out what she needed me to do in this moment.

"I was so color blind...We were just wasting time, uh uh babe." Her eyes filled with tears and I saw the anguish cross her face before she looked away from me and closed her eyes. I grabbed her then, by her arms, knowing this was going to be it, knowing I needed to do this more than I needed to breath.

"For my whole life, we never crossed the line....Only friends in my mind, but now I realize," I moved my hands to cup her face, as gently as I could but my need for her to understand was breaking through. When I touched her face I felt a fire rip through me, her skin electric, surging through my heart, my lungs, my brain. She must have felt it to because her eyes flew open, they were just inches from me, the hope i read giving me the strength i needed...

"It was always you."

Her body gulped in air like she had never never taken a breath before. Her eyes were instantly clear and I felt them reach deep inside me. Finding my deepest secrets and all the words i had never said.

"Can't believe I could not see it all this time...All this time...It was ALWAYS. YOU." There was so much emotion that ran through me on those last two words. Trying to make them say everything I've needed to say for what felt like my entire life. But I saw a veil drape over her face that only seemed to allow complete shock to show through. And I was terrified.

"Now I know why my heart wasn't satisfied." I suddenly realized I still had her face in my hands and I felt more awkward than I had ever felt before. My body moved them away before my brain could stop them. I slid my hands down her face, down her neck, wanting so BADLY to be able to keep them there, forever. But I couldn't, so I trailed them over her shoulders and down her arms.

"Satisfied...It was always you, you...No more guessing who." I could see her fighting herself, that's just what she always did. I knew how her mind worked and at that moment I saw my first real opening to get her out of herself for a moment. I took her hands in mine and pulled her close. I needed her to MOVE, to let her brain turn off for just a second. Get her to be in this moment with me. So I danced with her. Just shuffling my feet, getting her to turn in just the smallest of circles. Just enough that I was able to see everything she had walled up inside her, come tumbling out. And then she was there. Her entire being and soul was staring back at me. I could see her piece herself back together around this instance that we were sharing. I saw her spark, I saw her hope, I saw her EVERYTHING.

"Looking back now I know it was always you...Always you"

I never wanted that look to end, I wanted to see more, I wanted her to look at me without any doubt about how I felt for her.

"All my hidden desires...Finally came alive, hmm ...No, I never told lies...To you so why would I,"

I spun her again, desperate to not have a cloud reappear over her eyes. To keep them clear so she could see everything I was telling her... and for her to give me permission to hold her and never let her go. I caught her in my arm, firmly placed on the small of her back and then everything was gone except her and i.

I felt her arm go around me and grab at my clothes, her other hand went to my side and took hold. I tensed at her touch, not realizing how badly I needed it. She looked up at me.

"Start tonight....Hazel eyes, I was so color blind...We were just wasting time, uh uh yeah...For my whole life, we never crossed the line...Only friends in my mind, but now I realize,"

Her hand on my side was suddenly cupping my cheek and bringing my face down to meet hers. Our foreheads touched as she spoke my name, sending lightning bolts through my body. I had never loved my name more than when it slipped out of her lips. Then she sang with me...

"It was always you."

My brain just stopped... everything I had been holding in for much longer than I had realized, spilled out inside of me. I jerked back in shock, needing to see that what had just happened, really actually happened. Did she mean it? I studied every centimeter of her face, the pang of honest and real hope that formed in my heart was overwhelming. But when I looked at her, her face was so soft, so open, every piece of her seemed available to me. Nothing was veiled, nothing was dark. And I felt myself smile, so easily and wholly. My body SCREAMING for her as I ducked my head back in to meet hers. My lungs felt light and when I went to sing, my voice just seemed to float out.

"Can't believe I could not see it all this time...All this time," our noses brushed against each others first, then our foreheads. I felt her hands on me instantly. Grabbing at my shirt, my back, my sides. I wanted more, I wanted to feel her entire body on mine.

"It was always you"

And all of a sudden I saw her laugh. It was so effortless and pure, more easy than I had ever seen before. She laughed for ME. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. SHE was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Now I know why my heart wasn't satisfied...Satisfied...It was always you, you"

I had no idea how big I was smiling until I leaned towards her, the closer my lips got to hers, the more my smile shrank. I wanted nothing in the way of my lips meeting hers. I had full intentions of a wild and passionate kiss, but as soon as I felt her breath on my face, I got shy. I still didnt believe this was happening. I had waited long...

Our lips brushed against each others. I was still waiting for it to turn bad. For her to recoil, or slap me or any other thing that I felt I deserved... but she didnt. And then I heard her gasp and my smile ruined our kiss, but only long enough for my shyness to be replaced for my hunger for her. I somehow was able to grab her harder, move her closer, feel her more completely as our lips met again, until I felt he starting to smile, her lips elongating, being pulled away from mine. And even those I wanted this kiss to last forever, I felt a smile forming on my face too. I pulled back ever so slightly.

"It was always you," my voice could only register a soft tone, I felt weak now that I had her tucked safely in my embrace. An embrace I knew I would never ever let go of. As the music continued to play around us, I tried to find the right words, "I'm sorry I disappeared, but I needed space, i needed to do things right...i needed to do THIS right. My marriage was never anything. My divorce wasnt because of you, but because it wasnt what i needed and I always...i have just... I have always needed YOU." I pulled back a little farther, but just far enough to look at her, to make sure she understood everything I said was true. That all of me was standing here for HER.

"Adam..." her voice seemed frail and it trailed off as we both finally caught the sound of everyone around us cheering. Those fuckers! I chuckled as I realized how stupid I had been. Her cheeks turned pink and she chuckled too. Then our audience took over the song and started singing loudly and joyfully...

"No more guessing who...Looking back now we know it was always you...Always you!!...Ah, yeah ..."

Everything was perfect. It was incredible and amazing and probably one of the greatest moments of my life. Standing here, with her, and being part of something with so many people that all shared this indescribable joy with me. I couldn't help but laugh...really laugh. I looked down at her and saw the same raw joy in her laughter too.

I took her hand and spun her, catching her again, but tighter. I pulled her as close to me as I could, putting my one hand back on the back of her neck where I had so desperately wanted to hold only minutes ago. And I kissed her, as hard as I could. I kissed her for all the fear I had held onto for so long. I kissed her for all those missed moments, for the last two years. I wanted to finish my song to her but I ust couldn't give her lips up, I pulled away just enough to form words but still keep my lips on hers.

"Woke up sweating from a dream...With a different kind of feeling....It was always you....Even if I could not see it all this time...All this time...It was always you...always." our friends took over from there. All their voices combining into one, giving her and I more time to ourselves. I would never be able to thank them enough for it.

I wanted to touch every part of her at once. I ran my hands up and down her back, grabbing her hip bone hard under my fingers, then back up and buried them in her hair, trying to bring her closer.

"Now we know why his heart wasn't satisfied, satisfied....It was always you, you...No more guessing who...Looking back now we know it was always you, always you...It was always you"

[anotherworldash]

“Selfish Desire has No Moral Boundary” : Kuraneokuro dynamic exploration

This post is the long version of the authors' note of Selfish Desire has No Moral Boundary, a Kura-Neo-Kuro OT3 Fic.

(link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/29108781 )

While we’re writing this KuraNeoKuro OT3 fic, we couldn’t help exploring both men’s selfish, predatory dynamic to Neon. Which is..so HOT!!!! Kurapika and Chrollo are so dominant while Neon’s so submissive ! Both guys treated her good a bit, then proceeded to fulfill their needs.

They care about her but they also have their own goals. Kurapika and Chrollo are so dominant while Neon’s so submissive ! They could tame the brat and play her like piano, while they’re entangled in her charm.

Now let’s get to the point which part of their dynamics we are exploring in the fic :

(To avoid confusion, nick Anotherworldash = Cb_w in AO3. This post is taken from our conversation during fic writing, so please read it as dialogue script.)

1. Her power dynamics with Chrollo and Kurapika is very submissive.

(Anotherworldash: Holy shit this is so kinky)

Legitnumbkid : Neon has daddy issues; so it makes sense why she's prone to having selfish men like Chrollo and Kurapika around her. Other women in hxh, we don't really know who are their parental figures are and they don't seem to be prone to attracting men that are bad for them.

Palm is a potential one but i think she's more of the "crazy dom-sub" energy

And it's not like Chrollo and Kurapika don’t give a fuck abt her... they do but they have their own goals.

She's like their prey and they are hunters ahhaha

Anotherworldash : Neon just cant put up a fight, but that's what makes it hotter!

Legitnumbkid : Yeah and the other women are kinda independent since they fight and all. But Neon... I think even in canon, her power dynamics with Chrollo or Kurapika is very submissive.

Anotherworldash : Trueeee

And it's even canon

They're targeting her from day one

Legitnumbkid : That's why I don't even blame her for being a bit selfish, detached and have a sick hobby... because the men around her treat her like an object. that's why she sees people like an object kekek

2. Neon is prone to men's “ingenuine” affections

 (Anotherworldash: Holy shit this is also so kinky)

Anotherworldash : Also she doesn't have this... friend role in her life. Even Palm has "colleague" like knuckle

Legitnumbkid : Yea... she's lonely... so even more prone to men's ingenuine affections.

Anotherworldash : Muahaha... poor neon but at the same time it's what makes her ships so hot.

Neon's only friend is probably kurapika who originally targeted her😂😂😂😂😂

Ikrrr so hot omg

Legitnumbkid : And even so... kurapika's not even her friend if he ends up marrying her (read marriage theory here: https://scentedmoviesaestheticempath.tumblr.com/post/638404921741475840/compiled-cbws-kuraneo-thoughts-theories)

the closest "friend" she can have is her employees; which is like... not even pure friends. I know in some fics they put that she has friends and all... but i doubt it. She lived life in a bubble.

Anotherworldash : Yeah that's why she immediately fall for chrollo trick

Probably in her life, no one ever asked her opinion about life

4 Both guys originally wanted to “take advantage of her” 

(Anotherworldash: When I thought this couldn’t get more kinky...)

Anotherworldash : I just love how this OT3 dynamic show that kurapika and chrollo are just the same type of man

They both wanted to take advantage of her

Also she trust stranger quite easily

Just so vulnerable. therefore kurapika is guilt ridden and chrollo wanted to keep her safe(even if it's for his benefit, like when he told other spiders not to touch the ambulance)

Also chrollo easily showed his vulnerable side to her by crying 😭😭😭(probably cause she’s a stranger or what but it’s there!)

Legitnumbkid: OMG YA. Technically it's becos Neon needs to live so he can use her powers but I feel like he genuinely likes her as a person.

Same for Kurapika. A lot of people REALLY overestimate kurapika's "hatred" for neon becos of her personality and hobby; when actually, he never once showed any animosity towards her.

Anotherworldash : They just instantly vibed HAHAHAHAH

Kurapika is just like any other men

When he sees the girl is pretty. He is having second thought 😂😂😂😭

Legitnumbkid : and neon feeling uncomfy... it shows that she does have feelings but she's just not that exposed

HAHAH. I love kurapika's hypocrisy

he acts like he is noble and shit.. went to think leorio is a sleaze during the hunter exam for wanting to touch a girl

5. We love the ‘Animals by Maroon 5′ Vibe

Anotherworldash : OT3 just reminds me of  : https://youtu.be/7BJ3ZXpserc

I love how the snakes are shown more than one

Legitnumbkid : YESSS those are chrollo and neon haha

Anotherworldash : Chrollo and kurapika wants to tell her "I'm the man here"

"And you are my woman so you are here to serve me"

Legitnumbkid : Even the original music video is so hot

It's like... so animalistic

hunter-prey

i mean, KURAPIKA IS A HUNTER

Anotherworldash : Adam levine is observing through window when behati is sleeping, calculating. Just like kuraneo and kuroneo 😂😭. Even the pictures thing!

https://youtu.be/qpgTC9MDx1o

Legitnumbkid : I feel like... this is more appropriate to Chrollo tho. Idk why. He's like... stalking/hunting her in YorkNew City.

i bet my jenny money that chrollo jacked off to her pic ahhaha

So hotdamn. "You can't deny the beast inside" HAHHA

Anotherworldash : And his move is so violent... He legit knocked her out

Legitnumbkid : Fangirls be mad bruh but... he just knocked her out? before catching her? ya'all really want that?? HAHHA

Chrollo will steal her heart too

Anotherworldash : Chrollo said "Don't need consent when I'm the man 😬😙"

He legit say that... He stole her and touched her too

6. Their ‘Rivalry’ and their conversation when mentioning Neon 

Kurapika is so mad Chrollo approached and did something to Neon that he forgot abt their ‘hostage exchange’ rule :( where he’s not supposed to harm Chrollo.

Chrollo has mentioned many times he’s not scared of the situation, but Kurapika was not that provoked... until Chrollo mentioned Neon. How awesome

7. Their Parallel to The Great Gatsby (We are fans of the Series!)

Legitnumbkid : Honestly the amount of people in the hxh fandom that hates her without analysing her character is such poor taste and a lack of observation. It’s also similar to how Daisy is so hated but people need to understand that …

OMG SIS I was reading The Great Gatsby Chapter 4 (when Gatsby was talking to Nick) and LOOK AT THIS LINE:

Anotherworldash : And the way Chrollo Grabs neon... Giving her the things she want then claiming her, is just Tom x Daisy  ~

Please refer to this post for more : https://anotherworldash.tumblr.com/post/641807577123012608

That’s the post. Hope you like this OT3 too!

Oh also, have I mentioned that Kurapika was dowsing Neon when she was literally having coffee with Chrollo? O.M.G.

[companionjones]

Red Carpet Romance

Imagine by: @justsomemultifandomimagines

Imagine: Adam flirting with you.

Fandom: The Voice, Maroon 5, Adam Levine

Pairing: Adam Levine x Reader

Warnings: In this story, Adam is not married to, or even is seeing, anyone else (so sorry to Behati Prinsloo fans, I mean no disrespect); Cursing

Grammy Awards, 2018. He spotted you when you’d just arrived.

“There’s my girl/guy! Looking amazing as always.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Adam. Like I can hear that from you...” you couldn’t help but smile from his compliment.

Adam looked offended. “What do you mean?”

“Look at you, Adam! Looking like a frickin’ snack.”

“Ha! Honey, you look like a four course meal!”

That sent you doubling over in laughter.

“So, is your date on their way? Or...”

You shook your head. “No. I’m alone tonight.”

“Well, you don’t have to be. Care to go for a walk?” He offered you his arm.

“You mean a walk down the red carpet?”

“I heard it’s very nice this time of night.”

You were laughing again. “Sure,” you took his offer.

As expected by the both of you, the paparazzi went wild when they saw the two of you together.

“What the hell are we gonna tell them?” You sniggered.

Adam gave you a smug glance. “Y/n, our arms are linked, on the red carpet, and we’re laughing together.”

“So?”

The both of you exchanged knowing looks.

“Alright, fine. You win.” You conceded.

He fist pumped. “Yes!”

You doubled over in laughter again. You knew that night was going to be an amazing night.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for reading this! Please, fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I have a lot more fics on a lot of fandoms. Just pop over to my page and check it out if you want to. Also, REQUESTS ARE OPEN. I write for a bunch of fandoms, and I write headcannons, one-shots, and multi-chapter fics. No smut, please. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you!

*Credits for Adam Levine go to Adam Levine. Credits for the Grammy Awards go to The Recording Academy.**

[ever-at-your-side-15]

Tagged By: @thenameisfame

Aaaah~ ^_^ Thanks for tagging me! <3

Rules: Tag 9 people you want to know better or just because you feel like it.

Relationship Status: Single.

Favorite Color: Purple all the way! ;)

Lipstick or Chapstick: Definitely chapstick. Though I can’t say that I really use either all that often…

Last song I listened to: Probably “Cold” by Maroon 5 on the radio while I was driving home from work today. I support. Maroon 5 and Adam Levine = good times.

Last Movie I Watched: Pretty sure it would have to be Princess Mononoke with my roommate.

Top 3 TV Shows: Oh man… I watch so much TV and love so many shows this is a seriously tough question… xD Hmmm… I’ve recently been pretty into The Good Doctor on ABC, just started watching LA to Vegas on Fox and am hopelessly addicted to watching Catfish: The TV Show.

Top 3 Bands: Uhm… don’t really know or follow specific bands too much… but if I had to pick something, I guess Maroon 5, Imagine Dragons anddd I don’t really know any other songs of theirs but I always really loved “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors. ^-^

Books I’m Reading: Uhh…. yeah, I usually spend any reading time I have scouring Ao3 or trying to keep up to date with all the awesome fics I’m currently following, but does a fan-translated Light Novel count?? lol I’ve been having a lot of fun keeping up with the translated Light Novels for SAO. There was actually an update that was released just a short time ago, but I’ve just been so busy recently I haven’t had a chance to actually read it. D’:

I’m gonna tag... @izuumii, @chikelo, @seladorie, @theprinceofchocobos, @yallneedtrashjesus, @katkitoshi

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine fic - “All the Beautiful Pieces” (Rated NC17)

Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper’s total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn’t sure exactly why, but he’s drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (4432 words)

Blaine doesn’t go to bed when he leaves the puppets and locks himself in his room. He’s waited too long to take a shower. He can feel the bacteria crawling across his skin. He walks straight to his private bathroom, turns the shower to hot, and stands beneath the spray, not even flinching when the scorching water beats down on his skin. He wants to shut his mind off and put the day to rest. He hopes that the hot water, practically burning him, turning his skin red and splotchy where it touches, will give him something else to think about, but, as it turns out, it isn’t enough to erase all of the unnerving weirdness he experienced.

When the day had started, Blaine was ready to go through the motions of filming another house for his brother, and being humiliated before a live Internet audience. He had put on his favorite music to get into the right mindset, and had chosen his clothes carefully, building up his armor from the inside out. He had looked forward to the end of it, when all he had to do was come home and work out the finer details.

That seemed like ages ago.

Now that that day was over and a new one beginning (he hates to admit it, but one look at the time on his phone before he stepped into the bathroom proves that it’s true), he is stuck trying to resolve a multitude of feelings at war within him. In his living room are two puppets – one of which he is starting to have unorthodox feelings for, and another he believes wants to hurt him.

Blaine laughs out loud when that thought enters his head.

He can picture himself in a few years, bouncing from his brother’s terrible renovation show to TLC’s My Strange Addiction. His story can probably top that guy who admitted to having a sexual relationship with his car.

Blaine adjusts the water temperature to a less lethal level before third-degree burns can set in. He leans his forehead against the cool, damp tile, and closes his eyes, trying to imagine himself in a make-shift studio confessional, sitting on a red chintz sofa in front of a brown, sponge-painted wall, explaining how this demented relationship started – how he gave away his dreams of going to NYADA and becoming a performer on stage and screen because he fell in love with a puppet he found in the basement of a foreclosed house.

But the tail end of a dry laugh dies on his lips when he sees those eyes again – shimmering blue eyes that darken with desire as they gaze up at him through long, chestnut-colored lashes. Quivering pink lips whisper his name over and over like a chant. He can hear the voice in his head as clear as he can hear the shower water pattering against the tile.

Blaine…Blaine…

Blaine visualizes himself kissing those lips, claiming them for his own. They part for him, surrender to him. Beneath Blaine’s fingertips, unbelievably soft skin trembles at his touch – impossibly smooth skin…almost like porcelain.

Blaine hears himself moan. He feels his cock twitch, and his eyes pop open. He looks down at himself, and freezes with revulsion.

It isn’t the daydream that bothers him. It’s feeling his hands creep down his chest, heading toward an uninvited erection, that makes Blaine begin to feel creepy and pathetic.

In a last minute attempt to rectify the situation, he switches over to his go-to masturbatory fantasy, starring Adam Levine wearing a whole lot of leather, but it doesn’t work.

The battle lost, he turns off the hot water completely and lets the cold water take a turn at torturing him. He pounds the tile with his fist and grits his teeth, watching his boner die a painful, frigid death. When he has cooled off entirely, and those blue eyes no longer appear when he closes his eyes, he shuts off the shower and steps out of the tub.

His eyelids hang heavily over his bleary eyes, and he figures falling asleep will be simple at this point. He’ll close his eyes, and his sleep-starved body will simply drag him under. He gets dressed in a heather grey t-shirt and plaid sleep pants, and climbs into bed. He pulls his comforter up around his shoulders, all the way to his neck, tucking himself in tight. He feels so warm and cozy. The next few hours of sleep promise to feel so damn good. But the moment his head touches his pillow, he catches an unexpected second wind…then a third…and a fourth.

Blaine stretches out on his stomach, his arms crossed beneath his pillow. He closes his eyes, but a second later, he opens them and flips on to his back, crossing his arms over his chest. His head sinks deep into his pillow, but not in the way that he wants. He flips over again, this time on to his side, his head resting on his hands, but that’s no good either. He growls through clenched teeth, voicing his frustration to the darkness.

But there’s no one to hear; no one to help.

His body is exhausted beyond compare but his mind is infuriatingly wide awake. If he can only find a comfortable spot, his brain might get the hint and switch off. He twists and turns, at one point switching ends entirely, laying with his head where his feet should be, which feels so unnatural it actually turns out to be a step backward. Regardless of what position he tries, one thing stays the same - he keeps his eyes glued to his locked bedroom door.

This is ridiculous, he berates himself. He tries to exhaust himself by focusing on inane things. His eyes sweep his room and the few things in it – an Ikea desk, with a lamp and his laptop on it; a three-drawer dresser with only the first two drawers filled; the door to his closet; the door to the bathroom; and the bunk bed he’s sleeping in, with a full size mattress on the bottom, and a twin size bunk positioned perpendicularly above him. Blaine hasn’t slept in this room in forever. The Gargoyles and Sonic the Hedgehog posters on the wall attest to how long it’s been. But in the last few weeks that he’s been here, it’s begun to feel like home.

He likes the independence. He likes doing things for himself. He likes feeling competent.

But he doesn’t like being alone.

He sweeps his eyes back around, stopping on the clock radio on his desk.

3:59 A.M.

Blaine rolls his eyes and groans when he sees the time. It can’t possibly that early in the morning. He hasn’t even closed his eyes yet! He flicks his gaze over to the clock again, just to be sure.

4:00 A.M.

“Ugh!”

Blaine thrashes out, pounding his fists on the mattress and kicking his legs until his blanket tumbles off on to the floor.

“Fuck!”

Blaine isn’t normally a fan of cursing, but this particular bout of insomnia seems to warrant at least one four-letter obscenity. Today is going to be a big day, and he doesn’t need to spend it stumbling around like a zombie.

He suddenly thinks about what happened in the basement – the arc of lightning, the visions, the disembodied voices in his head. He hears a noise he’s certain came from the living room, and his eyelids fly open, no longer heavy.

Okay, maybe zombie isn’t the best comparison he could have thought up.

Maybe he is being ridiculous about all this, but recognizing that isn’t going to calm his mind enough to let him sleep. He stops fighting and lies awake, staring at his door, waiting for the dawn. While he does, Blaine lets his brain wander off on tangents of its own, touring the Victorian house in his mind. It astonishes him that he has so much of the layout memorized. Blaine thought for sure he’d end up have nightmares about that room in the basement, but his thoughts keep returning to the upstairs bedrooms.

He does his best to ignore the room with the broken picture frames and focuses on the other two rooms – rooms created for two completely different young men in a house that both celebrates and mourns childhood. Piles of toys and filth down below, memories crusted over by time, while upstairs, everything is immaculate - polished brass doorknobs, a Little League jersey mounted under glass, that exquisite suit hung up in the closet, the vintage sewing machine that probably works perfectly.

And that man with the sad eyes.

The same man who has already popped up in two unbidden fantasies.

A man who is unlike anyone Blaine has ever seen.

A man that Blaine needs to see again.

Blaine sighs. He’s never going to get to sleep this way, so he might as well start the day. He climbs out of bed, grumbling under his breath as he scoots off the mattress and puts his feet on the floor. He picks his blanket up from where it landed at the foot of his bed, shoves his pillow underneath his arm, and trundles off to the living room. He reaches the bedroom door and stops, halted by the dark wood, which reminds him of the green-eyed puppet. His heart speeds up, his hand hovering over the doorknob, intrusive thoughts filling his head. He doesn’t know what he’ll find in the living room. What if something he brought back from the house has moved on its own? Specifically, what if the green-eyed puppet has moved off the loveseat? What if it’s not in the living room?

What if it’s found the knives in the kitchen?

“They’re just ordinary puppets, Blaine,” he grumbles, knowing deep down inside that’s a lie. He’s not entirely ruling out the idea that he came in contact with some biological hallucinogenic inside that Victorian house, but those puppets are far from ordinary. He bites his tongue and unlocks the door, opening it and walking out into the living room in the same nonchalant way he would if he didn’t have possibly supernatural puppets lying around. He tries not to pay too much attention to them. He can see from the corner of his eye that the puppet pieces are right where he left them, the green-eyed puppet on the loveseat and the blue-eyed puppet on the sofa, but with one tiny exception. He had gone off to bed with them facing each other, but now, the blue-eyed puppet’s head seems to have turned away.

Blaine makes a point of not noting that detail. Maybe the two puppets weren’t facing each other when he went to bed. Or maybe something completely plausible happened that could have caused the puppet’s head to move. It could be a side effect of his walking heavily across the floor, or the porcelain head settling into the couch cushion, or a minor Southern California tremor that he didn’t notice.

There. Three normal, reasonable, and in no way supernatural, possibilities.

Blaine lays out his blanket and pillow on the floor beside the sofa, ignoring the feeling of eyes on his person, knowing rationally that this is all part of some strange, acquired phobia left over from being trapped in that depressing house all day long.

He walks over to the dining room table and finds the photo album. He picks it up and turns back to his blanket, jumping when he catches the green eyes of the wooden puppet glowing eerily in the light streaming in from outside. He chuckles at getting spooked, putting a hand to his speeding heart, but then furrows his brow in confusion…and stops laughing. The puppet had been looking straight at the sofa a second before, but now its eyes are staring directly at him. They can’t be following him, Blaine thinks logically, but the way they’re painted, they seem to. It’s the same phenomenon people experience with velvet paintings of Jesus…or Elvis.

Silly or not, he’s never going to be comfortable in here with those eyes staring in his direction.

Blaine puts down the album and pulls off his t-shirt, laying it over the wooden puppet’s head and tucking the fabric around it. He starts to feel physically lighter with the off-putting face and eyes covered. He makes his way back to the blanket, album in hand. He lies down on his stomach with his pillow shoved beneath his chest and the album flat in front of him. He flips open the cover and turns to the first page - a soft, black, rectangular sheet of aging paper that bends in the middle with the weight of the photograph on the other side. He turns it over and sees a single picture, beside which are the ghosts of spaces where others had been but had fallen out over time when the glue that held them to the pages disintegrated. This first photo is a black and white image of a beautiful young woman, smiling at the camera while holding a swaddled, sleeping newborn baby in her arms. The picture on the page opposite is of the same woman, sitting in a chair with an older baby on her lap. He turns the page again, and again, but the next two sets of pages are devoid of photographs. He flips ahead and finds a place in the album where some of the lost photos had been stuck into the spine.

He plucks the first photograph out and there he is – the young man with the blue eyes. He’s younger in this picture than the man in the suit that Blaine saw, but there’s no mistaking the curve of his mouth, the delicate slope of his nose, or his hair, styled high in the front, probably making him a whole three inches taller than his natural height. On a whim, Blaine flips the picture over. In the bottom right hand corner, written on the diagonal in fading pencil are the words: Kurt – age 14.

Blaine squints at the handwriting. It seems oddly familiar. It’s sloppy and rough - all edges and few curves - like symbols more than actual letters.

“Kurt,” Blaine says aloud. He turns to the puppet lying on the couch. With his head settled in its current position, the puppet’s one eye seems to look straight at Blaine. Blaine smiles up at him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kurt.”

Blaine replaces the photo and pulls out another one. It’s 14-year-old Kurt again, standing beside an older gentleman. The older man has an arm draped across Kurt’s shoulder. He’s smiling at Kurt proudly while Kurt beams at the camera. Blaine turns the photo over, curious as to the identity of the older man, but all that’s written there are the words Me and Kurt.

“Must be his dad,” Blaine mutters, putting this second photograph back beside the first and grabbing another.

There are two young men in this one. They look remarkably similar, but Blaine finds Kurt right away. This Kurt is slightly older, but still not the age of the Kurt he saw in the suit. Blaine’s gaze shifts to the man standing beside him. His eyes go wide.

Could it be?

He holds the picture close to his nose, angling it toward the light to get a better look.

Oh my…

Blaine’s eyes snap up for a second in the direction of the lump on the loveseat, covered by his grey t-shirt. Blaine flips the photo over. On this one also, at the bottom, are words scrawled in faded pencil.

Kurt – age 16

Sebastian – age 17

The green-eyed puppet finally has a name.

Sebastian.

Blaine peers at the picture, a swirl of jealousy pooling in his stomach at these two men standing side by side. Not that Blaine should feel jealous, he reminds himself. They were probably brothers. Blaine examines Sebastian closely, trying to pinpoint the familial resemblance.

Sebastian was handsome; Blaine will give him that. This photograph gives Blaine the impression that Sebastian was excessively proud. He’s standing straight and tall in way that’s looks like he’s trying to prove he’s taller than Kurt, which he was, but only by about an inch. A mischievous smirk pulls at his lips, almost as if he’s mocking Blaine…or whoever was behind the camera’s viewfinder. But Blaine has a suspicion that his demeanor might have been something of a front. He gets a sense from this photograph that underneath that cocky visage lies deep discontentment. It’s visible in the rigid set of his shoulders, and his jaw clenched too tight. It’s reflected in his eyes, where his smile doesn’t quite reach, and the way he holds his hands balled into fists at his side.

Blaine looks over at the puppet’s head covered by his shirt one more time.

“Sebastian.” He says the name out loud, letting it fill his mouth, feeling it roll off his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” Blaine calls out, feeling immediately stupid for doing so.

Blaine flips through the remaining pages. There are a couple more pictures of the woman, this time with a child standing beside her instead of on her lap, but the other photos are mostly the same - Kurt and Sebastian photographed together at different ages, or the two young men photographed with the older man. In each of those photographs, Blaine can’t help but notice how the older man always seemed to have his body turned towards Kurt, smiling at him as if he were the center of the universe, while Sebastian stood off to the side, somewhat out of the shot. Blaine takes his finger and gently traces a line between Sebastian and the older man. Yes, if Blaine takes a pair of scissors, he can cut Sebastian out of the photograph, and not a speck of him would remain.

Blaine doesn’t want to sympathize with Sebastian, but he can’t help it. His heart hurts for the young man.

Blaine yawns, covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his eyes shut. He turns on his side to look up at the puppet Kurt.

“You two could have been friends,” Cooper’s voice echoes in Blaine’s head.

“We could have been friends,” Blaine repeats, staring at Kurt’s face, yawning again. “That would have been nice.”

His mind walks through the bedroom that must have been Kurt’s, with the sewing machine and the dress form, and those opera posters hanging on the walls. If Kurt were alive today, they could go to musicals together, watch old movies, or talk about fashion. Blaine has a lot of good friends back home in Ohio, but he’s always felt like there was something missing, something that didn’t mesh. Something about himself that he didn’t quite have in common with everyone else, even if, in general, they liked the same things. He always thought that that one thing was the fact that he was the only out gay guy at school, but he’s not convinced.

Maybe Kurt could have been that missing puzzle piece.

Blaine reaches out a finger and gently traces the line of Kurt’s mouth. How close to the real Kurt’s mouth is this one? he wonders. How close did the puppet master who made him get the blue of his eyes? Or the peach of his skin? Blaine gazes into Kurt’s face, planning on letting this jumble of thoughts, daydreams, and questions carry him through the final hours until he has to leave in the morning.

***

Blaine watches Kurt’s legs swing lightly against the square granite headstone he’s perched on.

“Do you really think it could work out for them?” Kurt asks hopefully, his eyes turning back toward the screen. “Do you think they can fall in love and live happily ever after?”

“I don’t see why not,” Blaine answers, tossing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “Stranger things have happened.” Kurt turns to Blaine; Blaine gives him a wink, and a teasing smile.

Kurt looks at the bag of popcorn in Blaine’s hand. He licks his lips with the memory of it, but he doesn’t take a piece.

“Have you” - Kurt bites his lip as best he can, the move looking natural even though, for him, it’s not - “have you ever been in love?”

Blaine stops chewing his popcorn and swallows hard.

“Once,” Blaine admits, looking down at his shoes in the grass, his cheeks coloring, though Kurt can’t see the change in the dark.

“Ah,” Kurt says, nodding and turning away. “What happened? How did it end?”

Blaine chuckles a bit, his focus shifting from his shoes back up to the screen.

“It hasn’t ended yet,” Blaine says, placing another piece of popcorn in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. He watches the two lovers on the screen embrace, and then dares a glance in Kurt’s direction.

Kurt is staring at him, his mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. Blaine laughs at the startled look on his face. Blaine places a kiss on his own index finger, then presses that finger to Kurt’s lips. He curls his fingers beneath Kurt’s chin and closes his mouth.

“You shouldn’t sit with your mouth open like that,” Blaine says. “You’ll catch flies.”

***

Blaine wakes up to the sun warming his cheek and a faraway buzzing, like the incessant drone of a gnat, niggling in his ears. He blinks his sluggish eyelids open and looks confusedly around, having forgotten for a second that he was lying on the floor in the living room and not in his bed. He sees the bright sunlight streaming in through the curtains. He sees the dining room table laden with tools. He sees the green-eyed puppet – Sebastian – staring at him.

Blaine’s eyes pop open and he sits up straight.

Sebastian’s painted green eyes are staring down at him, the grey shirt that had been covering his head pooled on the floor.

Blaine does his best to recall earlier when he had gotten spooked, and all of the reasons he thought up to explain away these puppets’ odd “behaviors”.

“Southern California…earthquakes…tremors…nothing else going on at all,” Blaine mumbles, staring straight into the puppet’s eyes as if challenging him to prove Blaine wrong.

Blaine stares at the Sebastian puppet for a solid, uncomfortable minute, but it doesn’t move.

Still uneasy, Blaine stands and backs away towards his room, eager to turn off his obnoxious alarm and get a few more Zzzz’s. He slams his hand down on the alarm button, then checks the time.

9:15 A.M.

He brings a hand up to his face and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“9:15…” he says out loud, wondering why that time in particular bothers him. He raises his arms over his head and stretches, hearing the vertebrae in his back crack one at a time. “9:15…” he says again, twisting back and forth. “9:15…” He stops stretching and smacks his forehead with his hand. “9:15!” he yells when he remembers. “I was supposed to meet Gary at the house at 9!”

Blaine shoves all thoughts of Sebastian’s puppet head aside and tosses on the first outfit within reach – a pair of dark wash jeans, a red bowtie, and a slate blue button down shirt with teddy bear heads on it.

He didn’t originally intend on wearing that shirt, but it seems appropriate.

He slips on his shoes and grabs his webcam, his Bluetooth, and his cell phone, a sinking feeling growing in his gut when he sees the message alert. Blaine decides to tear off the Band-Aid quickly and check them. There are already seven text messages from Gary and a missed call from Cooper (probably wondering when Blaine is going to get his ass rolling). There’s no live feed planned for today. Blaine is just recording the general goings on, which gives him some freedom to work without playing to an audience.

It also means that he won’t louse anything up too much if he’s, oh, an hour late.

He slips his Bluetooth into his ear and dials Cooper back while he grabs his various keys.

“Blainers,” Cooper’s voice greets him after half a ring.

That’s not good.

“Hey, Coop,” Blaine says, fighting to get the words out around a yawn.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Cooper scolds. “You sound exhausted. Long night tinkering with your puppets, Dr. Strangelove?”

“Not at all. I was busy working on the plans for your house,” Blaine lies.

“Right,” Cooper responds with a touch of skepticism. “Well, it’s a good thing I trust you and your artistic vision.”

“Yeah, good thing,” Blaine says wryly. He makes his way back to the living room while he talks to his brother, but he’s distracted by Kurt, by Sebastian, by beginning his day late, and he just wants to end this call as painlessly as possible. “Look, I’m heading out to the house now to meet Gary. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Cooper says. There’s a pause, a tense silence filling the space where Cooper would otherwise disconnect the call, like he wants to say something. Blaine is about to ask if there’s anything else on his mind, but then the line goes dead.

Blaine shrugs it off. Cooper isn’t shy about his feelings. If he has something to say, he’ll say it eventually. Blaine heads to the front door, but he finds himself stalling - backtracking to his bedroom, to the bathroom, to the dining room table, double checking for things he knows he has. He shouldn’t feel guilty, but he does - not because he thinks Cooper knows that he didn’t do any of the things he was supposed to last night when he got back to the beach house.

He doesn’t want to leave Kurt alone again.

Sebastian, too, he guesses. Blaine might have strange, irrational ideas about Sebastian not liking him, but he’s broken, too. He was locked down in that basement room in the dark along with Kurt for all those years.

Nobody deserves that.

Blaine paces back and forth while he thinks, trying to find a solution so he feels comfortable leaving. He finally turns on the TV, switching the channel to AMC.

It’s not the same as human company, but at least it won’t be quiet.

He takes one last look at the puppets and walks out the door.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he says as an afterthought, and then leaves, locking up the house and heading to his minivan.