#he has the worst time finding a flattering swimsuit

[pallasperilous]

[bunnyywritings]

unexpected

tenya iida x fem!reader

[a/n: he’s so cute hehehe 🥺 here’s my first Iida fic, it’s your basic summer trope but...I simp for this man on the daily, I was a little sad to see that there aren’t many Tenya fics out there so I took it into my own hands, this is slightly self-indulgent but other than that, he deserves some love so uh yeah, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´-]

Class 1-A just couldn’t take the heat anymore so they begged and begged and begged until Aizawa finally gave in and planned a class trip to the beach.

Today, the girls decided to head to the mall and buy some new swimsuits since wearing the very non-flattering school issued swimsuits would be absolutely terrible. You had gone along since you didn’t really have a swimsuit, you had one from back in middle school but it hadn’t fit you anymore. So far, they had all been able to find one they liked except you. You had been to countless stores but hadn’t really found one that caught your eye but the girls insisted on going to one more store so you could look around. As you looked around, you had started to doubt that you’d actually find one. That doubt was realized when all the ones you had tried on were the wrong size.

Once back in the dorms, Momo had offered to make you one. An offer that you gratefully accepted. You had searched online and showed her what type of bathing suit would be ideal. After thanking her 100 times or so, you had gone down to the kitchen.

“Oh (y/n), You’re back. How was the mall?” I don’t think Todoroki realized how loaded that question actually was. He and Midoriya seemed to have been just chatting, eating snacks. Iida had been making some tea.

“Uhh well it was great, the girls were able to find some bathing suits.” You sat down across from your two friends.

“Is someone wrong? It doesn’t sound like you had a good time?” The freckled boy asked carefully

“I had a good time. It was nice to hang out with the girls but I’m just a little tired.” He nodded understandingly, Shoto had grabbed the packet of pocky and held it out to you in a silent offering. You giggled and accepted the offering, he nodded in approval when you took two of the strawberry flavored biscuits. You had joined their conversation about which pro hero had the best costume, a cup of tea was placed in front of you. Looking up, Iida offered you a small smile before sitting besides you and contributing to the discussion about All Might’s costume. You blew at the surface of the drink before taking a sip. It was black tea sweetened with just the right amount of honey and a bit of milk. You blushed at the fact that he remembered how you liked your tea. Too distracted in your thoughts, you nearly jumped out of your seat when Midoriya called you out.

“You agree with me (y/n), right?” Your eyes widened before you cleared your throat. Iida’s heart started to pound when he could see the mischief in your eyes.

“Well why are we even bothering to discuss All Might’s costume when Endeavor’s is clearly the best. Todoroki. Thoughts?” He had been friends with you long enough to know that you were just pulling his leg.

“Well, as much as I see your point. Why don’t we talk about how Kamui Woods has the worst costume.” Your jaw dropped.

“Okay now wait a second.” He knew that he was your favorite pro. “That’s a little much when someone like...”

Iida gave his 2 cents here and there but he enjoyed seeing you giggle and smile while joking with the other two. He couldn’t really explain why but his heart would pound harder any time you asked for his opinion or the butterflies in his stomach would go wild when you smiled.

Finally, the beach day came. Everyone had woken up bright and early to make sure everything was ready and loading everything onto the bus when it had arrived.

“IF YOU AREN’T IN THE BUS BY 9AM, WE WILL LEAVE YOU HERE! OH YEAH!” Aizawa cringed from beside Present Mic as he made that announcement. That meant that there was half an hour before you guys would leave. You nodded, amazed at the fact that you could hear your teacher while he was still outside. You finished packing your bag before getting changed into your swimsuit, standing in front of your mirror and scrutinizing your reflection. It was nothing to do with the swimsuit itself, Momo had done an amazing job. You were just...insecure. It was a one-piece with an opening at the stomach. It looked cute when you had seen it on the model online but on you, it seemed wrong. It made your thighs look like they were bulging out of the material and the pudgyness of your stomach seemed to be accentuated. Sighing, you pulled on your shorts and tank top before making your way out to the bus. Aizawa crossed your name off the list before you boarded and took a seat beside Ochako. Midoriya and Iida in the seats behind the two of you and Shoto and Tokoyami in the row in front.

Thankfully, the ride to the beach was only about an hour and a half long. Everyone unloaded the bus, as instructed by Iida. The beach was relatively empty so it gave you guys the abilities to claim a huge spot for the entire class. 1/3 of the class had instantly stripped down to their swimsuits and ran to the water. While the rest had set up the tent, some chairs, the volleyball net, or their personal umbrellas. You had offered to share yours with Tokoyami since it was big enough and he didnt seem too keen for on being in the sun too much. Even then, he had still peeled off his shirt and was sat on his towel in nothing but swim trunks as Dark Shadow had made an appearance and started to play with the sand.

You had sat down criss cross on your towel, book in hand. You had put it down from time to time to watch your classmates laughing and having fun. Midoriya had approached the two of you and asked if you guys had wanted to join their volleyball game. You had accepted the invitation but Tokoyami had politely declined. You were on a team whith Shoji, Shoto, Denki, and Shinso. Ochako, Midoriya, Iida, and Sero were on the other team. Mina, Tsuyu, Aoyama, and Momo were watching on the sidelines, cheering for both teams of course.

Halfway through the game and you all took a hydration break but you were starting to feel the heat. Quirks were allowed so with that and the fact that your quirk had to do with fire meant that your body ran warm.

“Are you okay (y/n)?” Shoji asked as he handed you a bottle of water. His question caught the attention of the others as they noticed that your cheeks were a bit more flushed than normal.

“Yeah, why don’t you change into your swimsuit?” Ochako asked, head tilted to the side.

“I-I have it on but well...” you sighed, deciding to be honest. “I’m just a little s-self conscious.” You looked away, slightly embarrassed as the words left your lips.

“Aww (y/n), no!! You’re super cute! Come one, I bet you look great!” Mina grinned encouragingly. “Plus, the girls have seen you pretty much naked before so there’s no need to be shy.”

“Mina!” There were calls of embarrassment from both the boys and the girls.

“You do have a point...” you mumbled to yourself. You walked off to the side and started to unbutton your shorts. All the boys had looked away to give you your privacy. (because they drink their respect women juice every morning)

“O-okay. D-done.” You nervously announced as you handed your clothes to Mina.

“See! I was right!”

“W-whoah! (Y/n), no disrespect but you look hot!” Denki smirked, nodding appreciatively. As the others had started to compliment you, no matter how hard Iida tried to restrain himself, he couldn’t stop his eyes running over your body. More specifically, your thighs. The way they slightly strained against the material of your bottoms made him blush. He couldn’t help but glance at them once the game had started. The way they flexed when you had gone to bump the ball or the slight jiggle they had when you ran for the ball. Don’t get me wrong, Iida likes you for you. Your personality, your kindness, and your intellect were very attractive to him but your body was a definite plus.

Your team had won the game and while Mina, Momo, and Tsu were congratulating you, Mina caught a glance at Iida. He had looked at you, eyes softened, and a blush on his cheeks before looking away.

“Ooh it looks like you’ve caught the eye of mister class rep.” She teased.

“W-what? Mina stop m-messing around like that.” You stuttered, her previous statement was making your heart want to burst.

“It’s true though! Don’t you have a thing for him too?”

“Well yeah but-“ you were cut off by her calling him over.

“Hey Iida! What do you think of (y/n)’s swimsuit? It’s nice right?” Oh how you wished the earth would split open and swallow you whole.

“Y-yes, I do. It’s very flattering (y/n).” His answer made your heart do somersaults. “May I o-offer some advice?”

“Oh uh yeah, sure.” You were a bit confused but wanted to see what we had to say.

“As a young hero, you work hard every day to get stronger and make sure you can be the best hero possible. You should be proud of your body because it’s the fruit of that hard work and well...because you look r-really beautiful. Regardless of what other people may say.” His sudden confession made your eyes widen but before you could respond, he had run off while shouting at Bakugo about the dangers of grilling without proper supervision.

Throughout the day, the girls teased you about your crush on the class rep. Currently, you were drying yourself off after having been in the ocean for a bit. You had wanted to confess to Iida. You had been slowly gathering the courage to do so, the other also helping hype you up.

“Hey uhm Iida. Would you maybe want to get a smoothie with me? From that place up the cove?” You were fiddling with your fingers.

“I would be glad to accompany you (y/n).”

So the two of you had gone off to get some smoothies. Chatting about trivial things as you waited. He had opted for an orange and carrot smoothie while you went for the simple mango smoothie.

“So uhm, before we go back. I h-have something to tell you...” he motioned for you to continue as he sipped at his smoothie. “Right. Well I just-well I...” you sighed, taking a calming deep breath before continuing. “I like you Iida, like uhm r-romantically. I have for a while now and I just thought I’d let you know.” He was silent, still sipping at his drink while processing your words.

“Well that’s a relief. I’ve been figuring it out over the passed couple of days but I have romantic feelings for you as well, (y/n). And seeing as the both of us seem to do relatively well in our normal studies and our hero studies, I could see that balancing a relationship with schoolwork should be relatively doable.” His words stunned you.

“Wait so does that mean-“ You really we’re at a loss for words.

“Yes. It means that I would like to pursue a relationship with you. As boyfriend and girlfriend.” The turn of events made you very giddy with happiness.

“C-could I hold your hand, Iida?” You asked nervously as the two of you walked back. He chuckled and nodded, taking your hand in his.

“I can do you one better.” He had leaned down, noses inches away. “If you’ll allow me to?” You nodded, closing your eyes and leaning forward to close the distance. Lips moving together, it was inexperienced but sweet and soft nonetheless. Both of you a blushing mess as you pulled away. The rest of the class cheering from a distance as they watched the exchange.

Later on that night, during the bonfire, the both of you sat next to each other. Having already changed into some sweats to protect yourself from the cold, he had let you wear his navy blue hoodie since you were still shivering. He hesitantly wrapped an arm around your waist, relaxing when you had moved closer and snuggled up to him. He watched with a soft gaze as you joked around with Shoto and the others and partaking in eating some s’mores. The way your cheeks puffed up as you gave him a tight lipped smile, mouth full of the concoction of gooey marshmallows and chopped made his chest feel fuzzy and warm.

Even as he held you close, as you nuzzled into his chest because the ghost story Tokoyami was telling was a little too scary for you, he still couldn’t believe that you had reciprocated his feelings. The girl that he had his heart set on since the second week of school was now his girlfriend. It was times like these that made him expect the unexpected.

gєиєяαℓ тαgℓιѕт (open): @ohbois-biggay-bnha​

[ravenwritesstuff]

Best Laid Plans (10/?)

Fandom: Frozen (modern AU, no magic) Pairings: Helsa, established Kristanna, Rapunzel/Eugene, lotsa frohana Rating: T for now, M later almost for sure A/N: Fun fact about why it takes me so long to write stuff. I write everything out of order. The very first scene I wrote of this fiction is in this chapter.

She cannot help but be wary. She has seen what happens when Hans Westergaard shows what he wants and she is all too familiar with that heat and tension. Her body tightens in anticipation of what he means, and does her best to hide her apprehension behind professionalism.

"While I am sure we all are thrilled with the mystery of your offer, it really is critical that we establish exactly what you want as quickly as we can as our timeline is so limited." 

She has never had a client be so withdrawn about their event or purpose before. Most clients could not wait to throw ideas and concepts and colors in her direction or instead all the things they didn’t want. So far she knows he liked the wedding because they danced and that he likes the ocean. She is in no way prepared for an event where that is the center. His lack of forthcoming throws her off balance and makes her irritable. She is not sure if it is just the Hans Westergaard way or if she is actually losing control of the situation. Whatever it is, she does not like it, but she hides her discomfort behind a Mona Lisa smile.

"Of course. Which is why I am going to show it to you as soon as I can. But it will require the wearing of swimsuits and the ability to swim. Are you all up to the occasion?” He is in full showman now, the elegant host, and while she feels more at ease when he is in this space she also likes it less. The conflict leaves her with feelings she promptly ignores and shoves down beneath the mental checklists ticking through her mind. 

“Per your vague instructions I believe we are all prepared for a swim,” she looks around at her team to get their confirmation even though she knows they all packed accordingly. “But really we have so much to cover. I think it will be best if we work through a few more steps before we get distracted.”

“Oh this is not a distraction. I promise.” He peers out over the ocean, shielding his eyes to make out something. “We have ten minutes before we need to get suited up so let’s talk until then.” He leans back and sips his coffee. “I would love to hear more from the team personally. Why do you all do what you do? What part of the events you manage is your favorite?” 

It is an unconventional question, but what other kind can she expect from Hans Westergaard? 

She watches as the team all look at each other with puzzled expressions and she is glad that at least this time she is not the only one befuddled by what Hans Westergaard has to say. 

“I mean - I guess my favorite thing is that I get to work with my family.” Anna chimes in first, smiling at Elsa and Kristoff. “We make a great team and I don’t know many families that can say that!” She turns to Rapunzel and Eugene as well. “And I’ve gained new family members I never knew before. So it is a win all around.”

“As someone deeply acquainted with the complications of family - I appreciate that Anna.” 

It is strange to hear her sister’s name on his lips, to see him smile at her and smile in return. 

Anna nudges Kristoff with her elbow and he grunts before offering:

“I get to work with my hands and make my wife happy. Not much better than that.” He chuckles when Anna throws her arm across his stomach and side hugs him. “Plus there is something awesome when a client sees you build the thing they wanted just like they wanted. Makes you feel like Santa or something.”

“The tables and altar at Eric’s weddings were incredible. You made those?”

Kristoff tilts his head, not one to enjoy outright praise, and then nods. 

Hans returns his nod with a smile. “Excellent work. Truly. I have ideas for you.”

Elsa sees an opportunity and cuts in: “We would love to hear more about those ideas so we can really talk them over and -”

“Hold on,” Mister Westergaard holds up his hand and focuses on the petite brunette across from him. “What is your favorite part of planning events?”

“Oh. I love weddings and I know you aren’t planning a wedding, but they are my favorite.” Rapunzel’s eyes widen. “But my favorite part of my favorite weddings is the kiss. You can totally tell who is going to make it and who isn’t by the kiss. When the groom really kisses the bride - or bride kisses the bride - or groom and groom - oh you get it. When they kiss them in the way that you can almost feel it from the back row… yeah. That’s my favorite part because I know we did something to give them their happily ever after.”

Leave it to Rapunzel would say something fantastical. Never mind that it has absolutely nothing to do with her role in the company or what is at the heart of their events, but it is water under the bridge. Elsa sniffs.

“Is everything okay?” It is Mister Westergaard. He is arching his brow in the most annoying fashion because it makes her stomach flutter and her mouth go dry and she screwed up. She drew attention to herself at the worst time possible.

“Don’t mind her.” Rapunzel interjects before Elsa can even force a smile. “It’s just that Elsa has never really been kissed.” She smiles a little too broadly at her boss before looking at Eugene (who is honestly at a loss). 

Elsa is flummoxed by the comment and she can practically see the mischief dancing across Rapunzel’s features. She is living for this, needling her like the second younger sister she never had. Anna is hiding laughter behind her strawberry lemonade where Kristoff’s eyes are wider than she has ever seen them. 

She cannot even look at Hans Westergaard. 

Eugene clears his throat and swoops in while Elsa’s mind sputters at Rapunzel’s brazenness.

“Well to be completely honest I had a bit of a rough start. I didn’t exactly use my super negotiation skills for good, but Elsa gave me an opportunity to do what I do in a productive way and that is what I enjoy the most. I like knowing I can con a deal for my client,” it is a joke and they all force a laugh. “Plus I like parties.”

Even Hans Westergaard manages a smirking chuckle without all of Eugene’s history. Chances are he has files on all them from some sort of private detective or something invasive like that anyway. There is no need for elaboration.

“So what about you, Hans?” Anna says, sipping her drink, deflecting from what was to inevitably be Elsa’s turn to share. “Why E&A Events? What do we bring to the table that you want for your event?”

Elsa could hug her sister for the segway. 

Anything to focus past the horrendous mess Rapunzel insisted on introducing and keep Elsa from having to answer Hans’ time wasting question.

Hans looks at them all and smiles. It is wide and easy, like he has never had any other job besides smiling at them and his response makes her boil. She hates his smile, his calm, that he had somehow gotten her on this ship where her insides are being flipped and churned and turned upside down. 

“I want you because you are unexpected,” he says matter-of-factly. “You aren’t what I thought I would want but somehow you are exactly, wholly, and perfectly what I need right now.” 

Elsa does not need to look up from her tablet to know he is speaking directly to her. She can feel his gaze as sure as she can feel the hammering pulse in her throat. It takes her best efforts to  take rein of her stampeding thoughts and draw a deep breath.

“That is very nice of you to say Mister Westergaard,” she pretends to be very busy taking notes on her tablet. “We are excited to dive into the particulars about why you chose us but right now I think the question we all have is just what exactly we are endeavoring to initiate.” 

He nods and looks again at the horizon just as the ship’s pace slows dramatically. His smile spreads. He looks back at them.

“You’re about to find out. It is time to suit up.”

….

Elsa put on her incredibly conservative one piece in the stark privacy of a marble and gold bathroom. The couples were given other rooms and while she knows the lighting is not flattering all she can do is look at flaws in the mirror. The suit had been specifically chosen because it did not show any of her scars. The navy suit had no cut outs, barely scooped below her collarbones and shoulder blades. The suit is made out the same fabric that swim athletes use. It compresses every inch it encases but it covers everything and is not flashy in the slightest. 

She had told Anna and Rapunzel to leave the bikinis at home.

She hopes they had or else her suit is going to look impossibly old fashioned.

She turns sidewise in the mirror and sucks in. She is not certain why. Her shape is her shape. There is little much she can do about that now. Her swim wrap is her saving grace. It looks much like any of the other dresses she might wear throughout the week though  is slightly sheer. The almost black is burned out with floral patterns and wraps at the waist with a feminine sensibility she normally eschews, but she had nothing else that would serve on such short notice. 

She looks at herself once more, feels her bare feet on the cool tile and breathes. This is fine. She is simply winning over a client that her company needs to impress. That is all. 

She presses her hands against her stomach and breathes. 

She does not tell herself it will be okay. She has not done that in years. Instead she tells herself it will all be managed. It will happen and she will handle it, whatever it is. This is a test and she intends on passing it. 

There are risk to swimming with her condition, but she knows her team has her back. They will watch her. It will be okay.

She tosses her braid over her shoulder, makes sure her personal items and stacked tidily in the corner, forces herself out of the bathroom.

The rest of them are already waiting on the aft desk. She hopes she hadn’t taken too long, not wanting to raise suspicion by her lengthy change. She assesses everyone’s dress as she approaches. The expression of personalities under the instruction of ‘dress appropriately’ is not lost on her with Anna’s tankini beneath a loosely tied robe, Kristoff’s rash guard and the longest possible swimmers available. Eugene trends towards more fashionable Bermuda cuts and Rapunzel’s suit is a one piece that hardly qualifies with all of the crazy cut outs. That leaves Hans Westergaard who stands in shorts similar to Eugene’s and a plain white t-shirt that is too tight to be decent.

She tries to not notice the shape of his calves, the size and shape of his feet, but it is a lost cause. Her rebellious mind grabs onto these facts before she can convince it not to. He smiles as he sees her and it is the same earth shattering power that leaves her shaky and uncertain where the rest of the world went.

“Shall we?” he says to the group before leading them out of the shaded part of the deck out into the bright sun. 

She squints and pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes as he leads them out past the infinity pool. There are wide steps beyond it railed with stainless steel grips and she clings to them as they descend to what appears to be a small launching platform.. At the base there is a large white space where three crew members wait. They demonstrate general snorkeling protocol that she vaguely remembers from when she was six, before this all began. They offer up equipment. They fit it to them. Then the worst comes. 

Every swimmer must have one buddy. Pick your buddy and know you are responsible for them out in the water.  

And the lines are so clearly drawn. 

She stands fidgeting with her mask and flippers knowing she is now responsible for Hans Westergaard. Anna casts her a knowing glance, but Elsa knows that damage that would be done if she let Anna be her partner. The affront will be obvious, personal, and honestly this is the least of worst case scenarios. 

It is just swimming. They won’t have to touch or speak. All she has to do is make sure that Hans Westergaard does not die. Easy peasy. 

With a return glance she calms her sister’s concerns. It will be okay. This is okay. She is okay. 

Then the crew is distributing sturdy plastic bottles to everyone named with only the words BODY and FACE This time though Mr Westergaard steps up to explain the reasons.

“This is just a little project I’ve been working on - a new line of sunblock. If you don’t mind using this instead of the kind you brought I would love to know what you think.”

Elsa holds both bottles in her hands thinking it is a bit strange, but she would rather have him be strange than charming. She had applied sunblock that morning in her apartment just in case, but the sun is bright and she is not interested in burning. 

She opens the bottle labeled BODY and starts with her legs and feet. The scent and feel of a lotion is pleasing. The texture is not oily or rough but actually absorbs into the skin easily. The scent is not overwhelmingly tropical but instead has the essence of eucalyptus. It is refreshing. She hates to admit how much she enjoys it.

They are all standing fairly close together but the couples have sectioned off into their own little bubbles. She and Hans are on the outside, reasonably spaced. Anna has lost her robe as has Rapunzel. She is next and the idea of him seeing her in something so opposite of what she normally wears makes her heart race. What if he was cataloguing her traits the way she inadvertently was his? What if he liked what he saw? What if he didn’t? 

She reprimands herself. None of that matters. This is a job just like any other job and she needs to stop losing her mind over things that don’t matter.

Her fingers work the tie at her side, thankful now more than ever that they all were wearing sunglasses. If he did look at her she wouldn’t know. She shrugs and the wrap falls to her elbows and then slips all the way to her hands. She carefully draws it in front of her and folds it neatly before setting it next to her snorkel gear and hopes it is bright enough that no one can tell she is blushing. 

She retrieves her sunblock and works her way over all the parts she had missed before until she arrives at  the exposed part of her back that she cannot reach. She is struggling to bend her arms to cover stubborn spots between her shoulder blades, head bent down, and a pair of feet comes into her field of vision. She looks up and Hans Westergaard stands there with his  sanctioned sunblock in his hand. He looks at her with a smile that is nothing but warm, sincere, and if he wasn’t wearing sunglasses she is sure that his eyes would hold that defenseless, human look that always rattles her.. 

“Need some help?” He offers. “The back is always the first place to burn.”

Her decline is on the tip of her tongue but she hesitates. She can always just ask Anna for help but how will that look? No matter how infuriating and unsettling this man is he is still her client and she is trying to make a point. She can handle his flirting and still maintain a professional nature.

“Okay.” She gives a stiff nod. 

He circles around her and that is worse. She is standing there in a garment that shows every lump, bump, and irregularity. It is not cut for flattery and she should be glad of that at this moment, but she finds herself wishing she has the more daring choices of her counterparts. Or at least something that doesn’t look like she is about to take a water aerobics class at senior citizens center.

No. She mentally reprimands herself. This is for the best. She is here to be professional, and he cannot create ideas about her interest in enticing him in any way when she is wearing the equivalent of a nuns habit in modern swimwear. 

She hears him open the bottle, make the necessary squirt, and she waits then for the first touch. It takes longer than expected to come, but when it does her entire body stiffens. 

She had expected cold but there is none of that. The lotion and his touch are warm. He spreads the cream over the available skin before he begins the process of massaging it in. She stays perfectly still, not daring to move, and does everything in her power to not consider that he is touching her, she is allowing it, and that the strength of his fingers is enjoyable.

His thumbs trace the fragile wings of her shoulder blades. The slick of the lotion gives his touch a silky glide as his hands work across her skin, tracing the delicate bulbs of her spine. He comes up to where her braid hangs across her neck and pushes it to the side before she can stop him. 

She knows exactly when he sees it. She can sense it in his hesitation. The scar creeping from the base of her neck up under her hairline is a wide pink line, made wider and more noticeable with every cut, and is something she hides with low lying hairstyles and high collars but now… 

She can practically hear his breath catch at the sight. 

His thumbs run in tandem up along the length of her scar in impossible reverence. She is sure that he can feel the rapid rhythm of her heart against his fingertips where they rest on her throat before she pulls away. 

“I'm sure that's good. Thank you.” she flips her braids back over her neck in an attempt to not rub the spot his thumbs had branded and looks at him with a dare to ask her.

It would be a relief in so many ways if he would just ask. If she could just tell him and scare him away before they get any further in this unnamed dance. Behind his sunglasses it is nearly impossible to tell what his intent is until a smile spreads over his face. Instead of probing he hands her the bottle of sunscreen.

“Return the favor?” It is a question as much as it isn't and she can hardly keep from blushing when he strips off his t-shirt. He winks as he turns his back to her and she recognizes a challenge when she sees one.

But that isn’t all she sees.

Her eyes trace the ropes of his muscles as they bunch and pull as he adjusts his posture to do his own application on the front of his torso. A wide smattering of freckles swaths his broad shoulders in frenetic clusters. Despite his fair complexion there is a tawny glow that speaks of his love of being outdoors. 

For a long moment she stands there frozen just staring as he worked his hands down the length of his arms. She watches his hand slip over the enticingly sharp cuts and swells of his shoulder and then down lower. He turns his head a bit to cast a look in her direction with a smirking grin. 

“If you need more lotion, just let me know.” 

Then he is back to it. His short phrase jerks her out of whatever spell she had been under and now it feels like all eyes are on her. Is her sister watching, is Kristoff? Eugene definitely would be and Rapunzel probably was brokering some sort of wager about what is actually happening and what will happen. 

She grits her teeth. 

She knows if she looks to see if any of that is true she will not be able to do this, which is exactly why she doesn’t. She’s spent the better part of today convincing everyone that this is nothing more than a harmless flirtation and that she can handle it. Running away screaming because he needs help applying sunscreen is not going to do much for her case, but she knows she is going to hear about this later.

So she might as well put on a show.

She grabs a nearby bottle and squares her shoulders. The cap opens with a snap. She focuses on each motion as she squirts a generous amount into the palm of her opposite hand. It is too much, she knows, but it is the only shield she has. She rubs her hands together to coat them thoroughly and then, before she can lose her nerve, reaches out to touch. 

Even with the thick creamy coat of sunblock she can feel the heat of him rising to her touch. The broad lines of his back are long with foreign trenches and cords of muscle telling their story of use. His body is not exaggerated in size like her brother-in-law’s, but it is well formed, athletically cut. There is a kind of feline grace about him and the way he moves, the way his calculating eyes watch her move in this game she can hardly remember starting.

She is more rough than she needs to be, pressing hard enough that she feels him brace. She does not take the care he did to make sure that every inch of skin is absolutely slathered and rubbed in. She works from the center of his back up over his shoulder blades and then down close to the line of his swim trunks.

She stares at her own hands moving across his skin and she tries to think of anything but the idea that she is just inches away from dangerous territory. As if this entire exercise isn’t dangerous territory. She lets out a breath she did not know she was holding  and steps away.

"There. All set." She holds her hands down at her sides, palms still tingling with his heat.

He turns and faces her. 

"So," he sets his sunscreen on the deck and straightens. "Snorkel buddies? What do you say?"

She has to respect that he is actually asking instead of just assuming. It gives her the opportunity to negotiate.

"We could always triple up. No sense in creating a superfluous twosome."

"There is no possible way that any group you are a part of could be superfluous," he grins. "But it's statistically safer in pairs. Trust me one we get out there you will have so much to see that I promise you will be glad you only have to keep track of one other person."

She is not going to ask for his source on those stats, but instead she asks: “What exactly are we going to look at?” 

She had not thought it possible, but his smile grew three sizes at her question.

“My initiative,” he pulls off his sunglasses, puts them off to the side, and fits his mask over the top of his head. “Ready to see?” 

She looks over to the others and they all have their gear ready to go and are watching them. How long had they been watching them? She looks back at Hans and nods. 

He leads them to the edge of the platform. It is a few feet above the water with a plastic and metal ladder on the side. Hans sits, pulls his flippers onto his dangling feet, and then slides off into the blue water. He pops up only an instant later and swims back a few feet to look up at them. 

“Water’s great!” He treads, powerful shoulder muscles rolling. “Come on in.” 

They all follow suit. Elsa is the last to slip from the safe edge of the boat into the water below. It is cold, not freezing, but definitely not bathtub water. The temperature is jarring at first. Her body cramps and hesitates as she stays submerged, but she manages to kick to the surface. She pops up on a sputtering gasp, reorients herself, and swims to the others. 

“We’re swimming to that buoy over there.” He points to a yellow speck a few hundred yards away. I recommend using one of these to help with the swim.” He raises his arm out of the water and gestures. Several life preserver belts fly over the edge from a helpful crew member and they all grab one. “Also once we are out there it is a strict look but don’t touch policy. Ready?” 

“When will we know we are seeing what we are supposed to be seeing?” Rapunzel asks, her intrepid curiosity shining through.

“I have a feeling you will know.” He smiles and pulls his mask over his eyes. “Follow me!”

[ previous ]

[pastelbatfandoms]

Pick 14 OC’s

1. Roxy (WWE) 2. Michelle (Riverdale) 3. Renee (The Flash) 4. Rika (NOES) 5. Carrie (Gotham) 6. Helena (AHS) 7. Rihannon (HP)

8. Amara (Marvel) 9. Meghana (Descendants) 10. Esme (Descendants) 11. Marianna (TW) 12. Suzanna (TWD) 13. Mandy (ST) 14. Ashlee (AVTED)

1. Would you rather date 5 or 12?

Suzanna. I feel like Carrie might kill me if I pissed her off....

2. A man wearing a thong and boxers on his head comes up to 8 and demands their money. Their reaction? Amara would taken aback and just look at the guy weird. “Earth has some strange customs.” She mutters as she hands him some Asgardian coins.

3. 6 comes home and finds that 2 has broken into their house and is stealing their possessions. What happens? Ah hell...literally. Michelle,I’d run. 

4. Would 13 ever have sex with 9? lol their is no way they’d meet,but if they did I mean Meghana is a Demi God so probably. 

5. What would 5 and 10’s lovechild look like?  Well She or he would definitely have dark hair,and striking Romanesque features with bright eyes. In a word,stunning. 

6. What would 7 never ever admit to the world?  Other then not telling Muggles she’s a witch...I’m not sure.

7. Do you think that 1 is sexy/cute? um yes lol

8. Is 9 or 14 more likely to commit murder? Ashlee,I mean she kills Deadites all the time. 

9. What is the last thing that 14 would ever wear? Anything too frilly and princess like. 

10. Why would 13 hate 7? I have no idea...maybe jealous of her because one she knows magic and also she can have the men in her life at the same time!

11. Is 4 a virgin? No

12. What would 2 get 3 for their birthday? Michelle would probably get her a gift card to a Restaurant or a jewelry store. 

13. Does 9 go to church? No,doesn’t exist in Auradon. 

14. 12 and 1 go scuba diving. What happened? Skipping,because I have no idea. 

15. Would 6 survive a zombie apocalypse?

Dang wish this question had been for 12...but Helena would be fine,chances are her Husband made The Apocalypse so....

16. Who’s taller, 4 or 14?

I think Rika.

17. 5 and 8 get in a fight. Who surrenders first?

The Carrion Crow vs The Valkyrie...That would be some battle! I can only seeing Carrie surrendering first because Amara has powers. 

18. Does 13 trust 3 enough to drive with them during a heavy rainstorm in heavy traffic? yeah sure,just don’t let Mandy drive. 

19. Could 8 ever win a swimsuit competition? YES

20. What scares 7 more than anything? Losing her loved one’s,especially to He who shall not named...

21. How long could you stand to be around 10? A good while,she’d be fun. 

22. Your old high school enemy comes up to you on the street and punches you in the face. What would 13 do? Mandy would beat the crap out her. 

23. What would 2 say/do when extremely drunk? I’m just going to put this gif here...Remember Michelle starts off with Jughead...

24. Would 1 ever crossdress? like wear a suit? Sure I guess.

25. 1, 8, and 14 are playing tug-of-war against 7, 9, and 12. Which side would win? Roxy,Amara,Ashlee VS Rihannon,Meghana and Suzanna. 

If Amara couldn’t use her powers I’d say Meghana would win for her team because she is the daughter of Hercules. 

26. 11 and 3 are arguing. Who resorts to violence first? Marianna she is a Wolf...Good luck Renee. 

27. Does 9 or 4 have a worse temper? Meghana,She got pretty pissed after Hades broke up with her. 

28. Who would you least want to meet in a dark alley, 14, 11, or 6? Helena,Definitely... 

29. If 10 got drafted for the army, would they go for it or dodge the draft? She’d dodge it like a thief in the night ^_~

30. What is 13’s worst memory?

Billy’s death.

31. Why would the government be after 3? Because of her connection to Reverse Flash. 

32. You run into 2 on a busy street? What is the first thing you notice about them?

Her Gothic attire

33. Would 11 ever get cosmetic surgery?

No

34. Does 5 love or hate themselves?

She does to an extent,but I feel like she regrets some of her past actions and who she associated with/dated. 

35. 13 gets hit on by someone of their own gender? Their reaction?

Ok,I mean she’d be flattered but she doesn’t really swing that way. That I know of....

36. What is 14’s worst habit or addiction?

This might change,since I haven’t written her into a story yet. But I think Ashlee has a tendency to think she can go it alone,she’s very stubborn and doesn’t forgive easily either. 

37. What kind of movie would 11 go see? An Action movie

38. Does 10 still live with their parents? Technically Esme lives at a boarding school,so no. 

39. Does 6 dance?

Yes,usually to entice Michael or to entice someone to their side. Helena is also very good at swing dancing as well. 

40. 3, 5, 12, and 14 are playing poker. Who is the most likely to cheat?

Carrie.

41. What would be the main thing standing between 1 and 10’s love?

the fact that there in 2 Different stories, Michelle is with Juggie and Esme is with Charming. Michelle would remind Esme too much of what she was trying to escape from the isle. 

42. Is 2 or 4 more mature?

Rika,she is older. 

43. Does 1 or 8 have a bigger ego?

Amara,though Roxy does know a thing or two about ego’s,dating wrestlers...

44. Would 12 rather drive a small, environmentally friendly car, or a huge Hummer with bad gas mileage? A hummer,because at that point it wouldn’t matter. A vehicle is a Vehicle in The Apocalypse,though she’d prefer a Motorcycle.

45. Does 6 care about their appearance? Yes,she’s spent years not being able to see it as a Ghost,so now she can be quite fussy at times. But given who she’s dated in the past that’s not surprising....

46. 5, 7, and 14 go into a haunted house. What happens?

Carrie wouldn’t be phased she’s seen worse,so has Ashlee but she hopes there’s no ACTUAL evil dead here,which would be what Rhiannon would try and find out. 

47. 13 is walking along and gets pulled aside by a prostitute. Do they accept the offer? omg what is with these questions...poor Mandy lol honestly living where they do she’d probably be used to it,she’d just brush her off and walk away. She has Billy,she doesn’t need to PAY for it. 

48. Does 10 have or want kids? No she’s too young,though I’m sure Chad will want an Heir at some point. 

49. How will 13 probably die?

omg! Easy answer probably by a Demogorgon!

50. Why was 6 picked on at school?

Helena was actually...because she was different then the other kids,an orphan Witch,no one dared pick on her after she met Dandy though. 

51. For what would 11 worship 4?

Marianna would look up to Rika because she’s “fought” a dream demon and survived,even though she’s only human. 

52. 3 and 14 are running against each other for president. Who do you vote for?

Probably Renee she seems a bit more level headed then Ashlee but then Eobard might become Vice president...I suppose it’s better then Ash! lol

53. 1, 8, 12, and 14 gang up on 5. How long does 5 last?

Quite awhile and this must be when Carrie is bad again,otherwise Amara would have no reason to fight her. 

54. Who would 11 rather take to the prom, 2 or 9?

Mari would take Shelle to the prom,she’s a bit more low key.

55. Would 7 ever wear a leopard-print miniskirt in public?

Maybe

56. Who has a more normal weight, 4 or 10?

I have no idea,I suppose Esme.

57. Why would 13 be arrested?

For Beating up someone or stealing or underage drinking/smoking.

58. 3, 6, and 11 go to the movies. What happens?

Renee would be watching it,Helena would be bored and Mari would try to enjoy it but would get irritated at the group of people talking to loud and kicking her seat,that she’d promptly get up and tell them off. 

59. 13 is trying to escape from a burning building, but sees 1 trapped in the corner. Would they try and save 1?

Yes bad girl or not she’s still not going to leave someone to die.

60. 14 and 8 are exploring an abandoned tomb, when 14 suddenly falls through the floor and barely manages to avoid the spike traps. How would 8 save them?

With her powers,she’s levitate Ashlee back up. 

61. Would 2 rather marry 6 or 14?

Probably Ashlee.

62. Does 10 smoke or drink?

:: Nope.

63. The house is about to explode, and 9 can only save 3 or 12. Who do they choose?

Suzanna...Hopefully Renee could get herself out or Thawne could come to her rescue. 

64. Would 11 ever deal drugs?

:: No, never.

65. Did 13 graduate high school?

she’s still in school

66. 7 tries cooking a new icky looking dish and invites 4, 9, and 13 to dinner. Who eats the dish? Mandy,she don’t care. Its better then nothing,she’s not as picky as she used to be. 

67. Would 3 ever pierce their tongue?

:: No

68. What about 9 annoys 14?

That she’s a God yet she can’t fix The Deadite problem...

69. Does 1 or 5 sleep more?

Roxy

70. Who does 14 like most out of 2, 8, and 12? Who do they like the least? Suzanna,they can relate to each other more,though I feel like Suzanna would be the mother figure,Amara would be the cool big sister and Michelle would be like Ashlee’s twin or BFF. 

[terriblelifechoices]

/jumps into the ask with the trope meme --- Holiday Fic + I Didn’t Mean to Turn You On ; Graves/Credence? :D

Hello, lovely friend!

I am still having heaps of fucking fun with the Fanfic Trope MASH-UP meme, so feel free to hit me up with prompts if you’re bored.  

My immediate ‘holiday fic’ idea was something to do with Christmas, because I think that’s where everyone’s brain goes.  And then I thought, no, I should do something different.

So I went with Fourth of July instead.

This is set in a very loosely AU version of Fantastic Beasts, in which the Barebone children are rescued, Newt is called in to deal with Credence’s obscurus, and Modesty follows Tina around like a little baby duck and wants to be a badass Auror just like her hero.  Graves is still a professional badass, when he’s not busy being a human disaster.  (Most of the time human disaster wins.)

Kind of follows this and this, from a previous prompt meme.

Graves hated MACUSA’s annual Fourth of July celebration.  He hated most of MACUSA’s annual parties.  His reasons for hating them were perfectly valid, and – no matter what Seraphina claimed – did not include the fact that he was a cranky old man with no sense of fun.

Graves was not old.  And there was nothing wrong with his sense of fun, thank you very much Madam President.  He just didn’t enjoy having to coordinate security on a beach while his nearly everyone he knew demonstrated a complete lack of common sense and decorum.  

Also, beaches typically had sand, and not even being a wizard was enough to keep sand out of places no man wanted it.  Graves was going to be pouring sand out of his shoes for weeks.

He’d set anti-No-Maj wards all along the perimeter and set teams of Aurors and Obliviators in the woods just in case.  Trying to sort out which Aurors and Obliviators could a) be trusted with perimeter duty, b) discrete and c) actually work together without descending into petty bickering over which department had the bigger dick was like trying to plan the seating arrangement for a fucking wedding reception, and with many of the same issues.  The Auror/Obliviator rivalry wasn’t quite as bitter as some of the extended family feuds Graves had witnessed over the years, but the arguments over who had stolen someone else’s beau were distressingly familiar.

Ten more minutes, he told himself.  He could endure ten more minutes of socializing with his increasingly intoxicated peers and then he could sneak off to relieve one of the perimeter teams for the rest of the evening.  Goldstein, maybe.  She and Theseus’ little brother had volunteered to take a shift, but they were young and might actually enjoy the party.

Graves wandered along the beach, exchanging brief greetings with the other party goers.  He caught sight of Seraphina, resplendent in an amethyst colored swimsuit.  Her hair was neatly tucked beneath a matching purple scarf, shot through with gold threads and neatly pinned in place with an elaborate wirework rendition of MACUSA’s eagle.  Her wand hung off a woven black belt, and she was wearing gold sandals that laced almost all the way up her calves.  Seraphina was always fashionable, even when she wasn’t wearing very many clothes.

Seraphina beckoned to him.  Graves swore under his breath and answered her summons, wondering if he was going to be dealing with his boss or his interfering best friend.

“Percival!” she said.  “You look ridiculous.”

Well, that answered that question.  Interfering best friend it was.

Graves scowled at her.  “There’s nothing wrong with how I’m dressed,” he protested.

“You’re in a suit,” said Seraphina.

“Linen,” Graves argued.  “In keeping with the spirit of the event.  Also, the weather.”

“You’re at the beach.”

“I was told linen suits were appropriate beachwear,” Graves said.

Seraphina pointed at him.  “Don’t you try and blame poor Tomas for this.  He probably tried to kit you out with a swimsuit, didn’t he?”

“I don’t need to go to my tailor for a swimsuit,” Graves said, avoiding the part where that was exactly what Tomas had tried to do.  It had had amethyst accents, which had been confusing up until Graves realized that it was meant to coordinate with Seraphina’s.  Graves frequently coordinated his outfits to match Seraphina’s, which neither of their tailors appreciated, but Graves suspected Tomas and Ariadne had settled into a cordial sort of mutual loathing over the years.

“Hah!” said Seraphina.  “He did.”  One corner of her mouth quirked up.  She was laughing at him, but she had the decency not to do it out loud where other people might hear.  “You could at least take your shoes off.”

Graves needed his shoes for later.  He was long past the age where traipsing through the woods barefoot sounded like a good idea.

It was easier not to argue with Seraphina, though.  Graves shucked off his shoes, made a futile effort at pouring the sand out, and then stripped out of his socks for good measure, balling them up and shoving them down into his shoes.

“Better?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she said.  “Take off your jacket.”

Graves sighed and obeyed.  He drew the line at letting Seraphina unbutton his shirt, swatting her hand away.  “Merlin, woman, what is wrong with you?  You’re going to give some reporter entirely the wrong idea.”

Seraphina made a face.  “Perish the thought,” she said, surreptitiously checking for reporters.  There were none in the immediate vicinity, thank magic.  “Credence was looking for you earlier,” she said.  “I thought he’d appreciate it if you were a bit more … casual.”

Graves froze.  “Has he said anything?”  Would Credence have said anything to Seraphina?  Credence was so polite; so careful not to give anyone even the slightest hint of impropriety.  It was hard to imagine him gossiping with Seraphina.

They were friends, though.  Credence might feel comfortable asking Seraphina questions that he couldn’t or wouldn’t ask the Goldsteins.

“Ah,” said Seraphina.  “No.”

“No, he hasn’t said anything, or no, you’re not getting involved in my love life?” Graves asked suspiciously.

“You’re such a damn Auror,” she muttered.  “No, I’m not getting involved in your love life,” she clarified.

“So he did say something,” Graves said, feeling a low curl of anxiety rise up in his gut.  What had he done wrong?  He’d tried so hard to be respectful of Credence’s boundaries – to not push for anything Credence wasn’t willing to give.  Had he overstepped somehow?  He was older and more experienced than Credence was.  Had he made Credence feel like he was pushing when he hadn’t meant to?

Shit.

“I need to find Credence,” Graves said.  He needed to fix whatever he’d done wrong.  He liked spending time with Credence.  He wanted to be with Credence any way Credence would let him.  Credence was extraordinary.

“Would you calm down?” Seraphina asked, exasperated.  “He didn’t say anything bad.”

Graves gave her a sour look.  “I thought you were staying out of my love life,” he said.

“I’m trying, but I actually like Credence, and I don’t want you to fuck this up and do something ridiculous because you’re panicking.”

“I am not panicking,” Graves grumbled.  He was, in fact, panicking, but he’d be damned if he admitted it to Seraphina.

“Sure you aren’t,” she said serenely.  She pointed out into the water.  “Credence is just coming out of the water,” she told him.  “You should go talk to him.”

“Um,” said Graves, suddenly very grateful that Seraphina had made him take his jacket off.  It hung loosely over his arm, and mostly obscured the sudden rush of blood to his cock.

Credence emerged from the water clad in a deep purple swimsuit rather like the one Tomas had tried to push on Graves.  Graves wished like hell he’d let Tomas win; he rather liked the thought of coordinating with Credence.

The color suited him.  Credence looked good in anything, but there was something about Credence in jewel tones that flattered his pale skin and dark hair.  The deep scoop neck of his swimsuit top showed off tantalizing hints of Credence’s chest.  His arms and legs were bare – well, they would be, for swimming, thought Graves – and his skin was sleek and wet and gleaming in the fading summer sunshine.

He was the most beautiful thing Graves had ever seen.

“Marie Leveau,” muttered Seraphina.  “Percival.”

Graves adjusted his jacket again, positioning it to cover his cock while he tried to think unarousing thoughts.  It didn’t work.  “This is all your fault,” he hissed.

“It is not!”

“Yes, it is!  I’m only at this stupid party because of you!  Also, you’re the damned president.  Why haven’t you abolished this stupid holiday?”

“Why haven’t I abolished the Fourth of July,” Seraphina repeated.

“Yes!  It’s a stupid holiday and we should get rid of it.”

Seraphina pinched the bridge of her nose.  “I realize you’re currently thinking with your dick, but are you actually listening to yourself right now?”

“Wizarding America doesn’t need another excuse to get drunk and throw a party,” Graves argued, because he thought that even when he wasn’t thinking with his dick.  “And don’t get me started on the fireworks.”

“It’s a national holiday!  For everyone, not just wizards.”

“Oh, because we’re so interested in adhering to No-Maj law.  Shit, he’s coming over here,” said Graves.  It was too late to flee.  Credence had already seen him.

“I am going to put this memory in a Pensieve and pull it out whenever I need a good laugh,” said Seraphina.

“You’re the worst and I hate you.”

“You love me,” she sang, cruelly abandoning him to his fate.

“Mr. Graves!” Credence said gladly.  He paused, looking over Graves’ clothing, lingering on the unbuttoned top two buttons of his shirt.

Graves wished like hell he’d let Seraphina undo more of his buttons.

“Percival,” Credence said.

Graves smiled at him.  “You never call me Percival,” he said.

“I never call you Percival when you’re on duty,” Credence corrected.  “And since you’re always on duty –”

“I am not,” Graves protested.

Credence gave him a profoundly skeptical look.  “Sure you’re not,” he said.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Graves asked.  He wanted to add, someplace far from here so I can ravish you but managed to resist the urge.

Credence beamed at him.  “I’d love to.”

They wandered away the beach, heading back towards the forest.  The sun hadn’t set yet.  People wouldn’t start sneaking away from the beach for a bit of privacy for at least another hour, which would probably liven things up for the Auror-Obliviator teams on patrol.  Graves had not yet discovered what it was about MACUSA’s Fourth of July celebration that turned perfectly sensible witches and wizards into woodland exhibitionists, but when he did, he was getting whatever it was banned from the party.  There was a reason he handpicked Aurors and Obliviators who could be discrete.

This close, Graves could smell salt water and the faint bergamot hints of Credence’s shampoo.  Credence’s hair had started to dry a little, and it made Graves wonder what it would look like damp with sweat from other exertions.  If the pretty flush on Credence’s cheeks would go all the way down his chest for Graves to chase until he got to Credence’s cock.

His own cock, which had mostly calmed down during the walk, heartily approved of that particular fantasy.

Stop, Graves thought, trying to will it back into quiescence.

Credence shivered, bringing his hands up to rub his arms.  “I should’ve grabbed my towel,” he said.

Shit, thought Graves.  Good manners demanded that he offer Credence his jacket.  A bit of personal embarrassment was nothing to Credence’s comfort.  He didn’t want Credence to catch a cold.

“Take my jacket,” he said, draping it over Credence’s shoulders before Credence could say no.

“Thank you,” Credence said.  His gaze flickered very briefly downward, and then he went bright red.

He did blush all the way down his chest, or at least all the way down the bits that weren’t covered by his swimsuit.  That knowledge did nothing to dissuade Graves’ erection.

Frankly, Graves was a little surprised he was still conscious.  Surely he ought to have passed out by now.  It had to be physiologically impossible for a man to remain conscious when all the blood in his body was either in his dick or in his suddenly bright red cheeks.

“I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable,” Graves said.  “I’ll leave you to enjoy the party, and we need not speak of this again.”  Assuming Credence wanted to speak with him at all after this.  “Or ever speak again, if that is your wish.”

“No!” Credence blurted, lunging forward.  He tripped over a rock and fell into Graves’ arms.

Credence was still cool from the water, the wool of his swimsuit damp against Graves’ thin shirt and pants.  And, unless Graves was having a very weird hallucination, he was also hard.  Graves could feel Credence’s erection against his hip, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to align their hips so they could rut against one another properly.

“Are you alright?” Graves asked.

“Fine,” Credence said.  “Confused, but fine.  What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m really not sure anymore,” Graves admitted.  “I thought maybe I’d made you uncomfortable with –” he made a vague gesture, trying to convey with my completely inappropriate erection, because you are a gorgeous young thing and I am apparently a dirty old man without actually having to give voice to that utterly mortifying sentence.

“With your cock,” Credence finished, giving Graves a look that suggested he thought Graves had gone out of his fucking mind.

“Ah,” said Graves.  “That’s not exactly how I would have put it, but – yes.”  He resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair in embarrassment.  “You’re very beautiful,” he said.  “Which is not to say that this is in any way your fault, or that I expect you to do something about it, it’s just – I’m attracted.  To you.  Physically.  And if someone could please shut me up now, I’d take that as a kindness, because –”

Credence leaned forward and kissed him, temporarily stopping the flow of words.  Graves shut up and kissed him back, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of Credence’s head.

Credence rested his forehead against Graves’ when the kiss finally ended.  “How are we so bad at this?” he marveled.  “I didn’t mean to turn you on just now, but I’m very glad I did.  Because I’m also attracted to you.  Physically,” he added, in case Graves had any doubts about that.  

Since Credence’s erection was still pressed against Graves’ hip, he had fewer doubts about that right now than he might have otherwise, but it was nice to have verbal confirmation.

Graves kissed him again, shifting his hips so that they aligned with Credence’s.  Credence moaned and rocked against him, pressing closer to Graves.  Graves took a step back and tripped over the same fucking rock Credence had tripped on earlier.

They both went down in a tangle of limbs and cursing.

“We are really bad at this,” Graves admitted, laughing helplessly.

“Well,” said Credence.  “We’re already on the ground.  I hear this sort of thing is easier lying down.”

“Yes,” Graves said, rolling so he could press worshipful kisses down the glorious column of Credence’s throat.  “Yes, it is.”  He liked having Credence spread out beneath him like a feast.  He wanted to take his time and worship every inch of him, to caress him everywhere with his hands and his mouth until he was drunk with it.  He wanted to rut against Credence until they both came, messy and fast and fun the way this sort of thing ought to be.  He wanted to take Credence home and beg him to stay.

“Oh,” Credence breathed.  “That’s much nicer,” he admitted.  “You should keep doing that.”

“Of course,” Graves purred.  He got one hand under the shirt portion of Credence’s swimsuit and stroked his belly, feeling Credence quiver beneath him.  He was about to reach a bit lower when a shocked voice said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Graves sighed and pressed one last kiss to the Credence’s collarbone.  “I should have taken you home when I had the chance,” he said mournfully, and turned to face the wrath of Tina Goldstein.

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Problem Areas” (Rated PG13)

Kurt comes home from a rare Saturday work day, eager to go out on a date with his husband. But he finds Blaine acting strange, withdrawn, with odd Sharpie marks all over his skin. (2100 words)

Okay, so, I've been a little down on myself, and this is something I've been toying around with. I just recently got motivated to finish it. This is something that actually happened to me a long time ago when I started modeling, I was just way sassier back then with how I handled it xD I don't know for sure if they do it now, but to be honest, I wouldn't be surprised. Warning for angst, body issues, self-esteem issues, and body shaming. Mention of Sam. Kurt and Blaine still attend NYADA, but Kurt works at Vogue.

Read on AO3.

“Hey, honey! I’m home!” Kurt announces while he struggles with full hands to unlock the door to the loft. He’s relieved to finally be home. He hates working on Saturdays. Saturdays and Sundays are the only days he and Blaine get to spend 100% alone with each other. They turn off their phones, stay in bed all day, ignore the occasional knocks on the door from friends who can’t take a hint. Kurt loves his job at Vogue. He loves his boss, Isabelle. But Saturdays are reserved for him and his husband.

Thank God this only happens once in a blue moon.

The one good thing that came from working today was it gave Blaine an opportunity to spend some bro time with Sam. Ever since Sam got signed on at Wilhelmina, he’s been too busy working to stop by. Not that Kurt minds. He’s glad that Sam found his niche in the New York modeling world, especially since it removed him from their couch. But he could tell that Blaine missed him, and all of the creepy bonding stuff they used to do.

Seriously. Kurt doesn’t know what he was more bothered by – Sam’s obsession with Star Wars fanfiction, or Blaine encouraging it, not only reading it to Sam before he went to sleep every night, but also acting out the voices.

One night, after Sam moved out, Blaine had even suggested roleplaying a particularly smutty fanfic he’d discovered to Kurt.

Kurt said no. He wasn’t touching that with a ten-foot pole.

“Blaine?” Kurt calls when Blaine doesn’t answer. “Are you home?”

“Uh, yeah,” Blaine replies in an anxious voice. “Yeah, I’m home. I’m in the bedroom.”

“Good! Get dressed! We’re going out on a date!” Kurt shuts the door behind him with a push of his foot. “Dinner, remember? You chose the spot.”

“No, uh … I don’t think I want to go out to dinner. I, uh …”

“Why not? You’ve been wanting to go to that new Ethiopian place for over a week now!” Kurt drops his belongings on the sofa - messenger bag, portfolios, his reusable lunch bag, his coat - and heads for their room. “Do you feel sick? Ugh! I knew that eating cottage cheese three days past the sell by date wasn’t a good idea.”

“Uh, no. It’s not that. I just …”

Kurt stutters to a stop inside the doorway to their room when he sees his husband sitting on the bed in nothing but his purple briefs. Kurt would normally grin like a frisky cat at the sight of his hot, half-dressed man and then pounce, except Blaine looks like he’s in pain - arms holding his stomach, hunched over, staring down at the floor.

“Blaine? Blaine, are you …?” Kurt rushes in. He’s almost at the bed when he sees strange black marks on Blaine’s skin – circles, dashes, and in a few cases, x’s. “What are … what are those, Blaine?” Kurt traces one mark on the back of Blaine’s bicep – a dark circle that looks like it may have been made with a Sharpie. Blaine’s eyes dart to the mirror to look at Kurt, but his gaze falls short of his face. He looks back at the floor and winds his arms tighter.

“They’re, uh … I got them at … Sam and I, w-we stopped by Wilhelmina so he could show me around. The director there … she said she liked my look. She asked if I wanted to sign on with them, too. I didn’t see the harm. It was kind of flattering. Another thing to put on the resume, right?” Kurt sits and puts a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine shrinks like he might shrug it off, but he doesn’t. “They had me change into a swimsuit - some little red Speedo thing from the 80s. I … I had Sam take pictures,” Blaine admits with a shaky smile, “in case you wanted to see.” Kurt nods and smiles back, hoping Blaine’s smile will stay, but it doesn’t. It twitches at the corners and slips away. “They wanted to see how I looked under lights in front of a white backdrop. But then …” Blaine stops and swallows, too embarrassed to continue.

Kurt’s brows pull together, an angry, incredulous heat beginning to boil behind his ears and spreading to his cheeks. “You mean, someone from the agency drew those marks on you?”

Blaine doesn’t speak. He simply nods.

Kurt looks the marks over. He’s worked with dozens of models and photographers during his time at Vogue and he’s never seen anything like this. He’s definitely never seen Sam come home with marks like these. What the hell …?

“What … what do they mean?”

“They’re, uh …” Blaine’s voice squeaks when he talks again. He clears his throat in order to continue. “They’re my … problem … areas.”

The heat in Kurt’s cheeks shoots straight to his forehead, his brain inside his skull broiling. “What!?”

“They’re the things they told me I’d have to work on if I wanted to become a model,” Blaine explains. “Places where I need to build muscle … places I need to lose fat … you know …” His voice becomes thin, trails off.

“No, Blaine! I don’t know!” Kurt spits. “How could you let them do this to you!? A-and what about Sam!? Why didn’t he say anything!?”

“Kurt, it���s okay,” Blaine says with a hollow laugh, trying to diffuse Kurt’s temper. “We both know I don’t have the body I used to. I’ve been struggling with my weight for a while. It’s no … it’s no secret.”

Kurt watches Blaine fold in on himself, more uncomfortable now than he looked when Kurt first walked in, and Kurt knows he’s partially to blame for that. He shouldn’t have flown off the handle. But he’s done with judgmental assholes and fair-weather friends. Not that Sam is one. He’s always been one of the most loyal people Kurt has ever known. Maybe he was somewhere else at the time. Maybe he was worried that if he said something, it would negatively impact his contract.

Maybe he didn’t realize how much damage this could do.

Kurt really should give him the benefit of the doubt … and he will.

For now.

Kurt leans forward and kisses Blaine on the cheek. “Give me a minute. Okay?”

Blaine nods in response.

Kurt stands and heads for the bathroom. He soaks a clean washcloth in warm water and grabs a bottle of body wash from Blaine’s shelf. When he returns, Blaine doesn’t seem any better, hunched so far over, his forehead is almost resting on his right knee. Kurt has only seen him this withdrawn a handful of times, none of which Kurt wants to remember.

He stands in front of Blaine, blocking his view of the mirror.

“Stand up, honey.”

Blaine sighs, but he doesn’t move.

Kurt feels his chest squeeze. “Please, Blaine?”

Blaine takes a breath in and slowly unrolls. He stands the way Kurt asks, but he doesn’t drop his arms. Standing upright, Kurt sees more x’s and more circles, but he suspects that the worst of them are hiding somewhere beneath Blaine’s arms.

Kurt puts a gentle hand where they cross and pushes down, doing his best not to react as they fall away.

Seeing them, though, makes Kurt want to scream. He’s definitely going to make some phone calls come Monday morning.

Whoever was in charge of the Sharpie went to town on Blaine’s stomach - circles overlapping circles with x’s and dashes in between. The ink is smeared, having bled onto the palms of Blaine’s hands as he covered himself. Kurt looks at Blaine’s face, but his head is bowed, his eyes closed, a single tear threatening to break from the corner.

“I don’t know who the hell those people think they are, but these are not problem areas,” Kurt says, wiping at the marks with the cleanser and the cloth. The marks begin to fade, but they don’t go away easily. They were meant to make an impression, to bother Blaine enough that he’d force himself to change. “In fact, these areas are some of what I love most about your body.”

Blaine scoffs. “How can you say that?”

“How can you not see it?” Kurt says with a soft, comforting laugh. “For example, there’s nothing wrong with your shoulders.” Kurt scrubs at dashes drawn on Blaine’s traps. “They’re just perfect for squeezing. Your biceps are so well-defined, and your back is exceptional. It makes me jealous.” Kurt inches in, lips hovering beside Blaine’s ear. “And when we make love, what do I grab to pull you closer? Hmm?” Kurt’s hands caress Blaine’s hips. The light touch makes Blaine jump, but he doesn’t pull away. “They call these love handles for a reason, but there’s barely anything there. And here.” Kurt plants his hands on Blaine’s ass, making him yelp. “Your gorgeous behind. If you lost an inch off of this, I’d mourn it forever.”

“You have to think that way,” Blaine mutters. “You’re my husband.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I hate it when you say that, but okay. Let’s talk about you then.”

“What about me?”

“Before you left our loft today, did you think you were fat?”

“N-no.”

“Earlier this morning, when I had you in my mouth, were you concerned about how your thighs looked?”

A red stain blooms on Blaine’s cheeks, but his expression doesn’t change. “No.”

“And last night, when we were talking and laughing and making love, did the thought that you had some miniscule amount of back fat ever leap into your mind?”

“No.”

“No. And not that it apparently matters because I’m only your husband, but it wasn’t in my mind, either.” Kurt smiles, showing that he’s kidding, but it doesn’t budge Blaine’s mouth an inch. “You’re perfect, Blaine. Just the way you are. And you were happy with yourself a few short hours ago. I know you’ve had trouble with your weight before, but you’re back on track. And you’ve worked so hard to get here. Don’t let some random stranger take that away.” Kurt continues scrubbing, going back over areas where the black marker is being the most stubborn. “If you do want to change something about yourself, do it for you, because there’s something that you want to change. But if you go on some crazy binge, exercising and losing weight, because a woman you’ve never met before tells you that you have problem areas, you are going to make yourself miserable. And then what? Her opinion’s not everyone’s opinion. Maybe her definition of perfect looks awful to everyone else, and then where would you be? The only person whose opinion of your body matters is you, Blaine. No one else.”

“Well, you, too,” Blaine offers. “I want you to think I’m handsome.”

“Then consider that job done,” Kurt says, dropping a kiss on Blaine’s forehead, “because I’ve thought you were handsome from the moment we met, and I’ve never stopped.”

“You’re right,” Blaine concedes. “I know you’re right. It was just a bit of a slap in the face to hear what they had to say.”

“If you really want to be a model, come with me down to Vogue where everyone knows you and loves you. Isabelle’s got contacts that I know for a fact she’d threaten with complete fashion world blacklisting if they ever pulled a trick like this on you.”

“Deal” – Blaine shuffles forward, standing nose to nose with Kurt, forcing Kurt to loop his arms around his waist – “but I don’t want to be a model. And not because of what happened today. It seems so stressful, exercising three times a day, counting every calorie you put in your mouth. It doesn’t sound like it’d be fun unless it’s what you really want to do with your life.”

“Good,” Kurt says. “I already have to deal with people drooling over you at NYADA. I don’t know how I would handle the whole world falling in love with you. Though, you know, it’s only a matter of time …”

Blaine tilts his head, a subconscious smile lifting his lips. “A matter of time before what?”

Kurt kisses him on the nose, matches his smile. “Before the whole world falls in love with you.”

Blaine chuckles, bashful eyes dropping to Kurt’s collar. “Do you really believe that?”

“Blaine” – Kurt wraps his arms completely around Blaine’s torso and hugs him, not caring one iota when soapy water starts seeping through his shirt – “I always have.”