i almost couldn't stop laughing long enough to take this picture

adorablecrab  asked:

Talk to me about Jehan convincing Grantaire to let them paint his nails ❤

It’s early in the afternoon and Grantaire is playing his guitar while Jehan lies upside down on his sofa. Their long hair is streaming past the faded cushions and pools on the floorboards below. Their eyes are fixed intently on his right hand, plucking the strings.

Grantaire smiles. “You’re going to set me or my guitar on fire if you keep staring like that.”

“Stop accusing me of malignant witchcraft,” Jehan hums, but there are still tracking the movements of Grantaire’s fingers.

“I never accuse you of witchcraft,” Grantaire contradicts. “I accuse you of being a supernatural being that is staring at my fingers hard enough to make them spontaneously combust.”

“Your hands are pretty,” Jehan says matter-of-factly.

Grantaire smirks and says nothing. Arguments with Jehan on the subject of beauty are reserved for moments of high energy, this is a lazy moment.

“Your fingers move so fast…” Jehan muses.

Again, Grantaire doesn’t argue. This is a very gentle melody, not fast at all. But then again, Jehan has a tendency to focus on very different matters than the obvious, so perhaps they do not mean the literal speed at which his fingers pluck the notes from the strings.

“It’s pretty,” they repeat. Suddenly, in a supple, dance-like movement they swing themself into an upright position, hair sweeping through the air.  They turn to face Grantaire with glittering eyes. “Let me paint your nails!”

“What?” Grantaire laughs. He has stopped playing in surprise. “No.”

“Yes!” Jehan chimes, bouncing on the sofa on their knees. “Your fingers move so beautifully in the light, it would be even prettier if they glittered!”

“Glitter,” Grantaire says with a grimace. “You’ve been hanging out with Courf too much.”

“Come on,” Jehan begs. “I’ve got silver nail polish in my bag. Silver goes with everything.”

Another Grimace. Arguments with Jehan over use of colour aren’t something Grantaire can control, they just happen. “Silver might,” he says (it doesn’t of course). “But glitter certainly doesn’t.”

Jehan rises from the sofa and grabs Grantaire’s right hand. It looks large and rough in theirs. “Please,” they beg.

Grantaire frowns at their large hazel eyes. “What did I say about using your supernatural abilities,” he scolds. “Stop it with the eyes.”

Jehan pulls their lips into a pout and Grantaire drops his guitar and covers his eyes with both his hands.

“Arg! No! Mercy!” he croaks. “It burns!”

Jehan laughs and they rescue his guitar from falling on the ground. His friends always treat it with much more deference than he does. “Come on,” they try again, pulling on his arm. “Let me paint your nails. Just this once.”

“Fine,” Grantaire sighs.

Jehan makes a delighted sound and darts to the corner of the room where they’ve left their bag. They dig out a small bottle of glittery silver nail polish. “Hand please,” they say happily, sitting down on the floor in front of Grantaire.

Obediently he holds out his hand. “You know,” he says while Jehan gleefully starts on his pinkie. “I feel for the person that ends up marrying you.”

“What makes you think I’d get married,” Jehan grins.

“You’re the sort of person that gets married,” Grantaire says decidedly.

“Yeah I am,” Jehan says happily.

“Plus, your moms will be heartbroken if you don’t,” Grantaire reminds them. It would be too cruel for the child of a florist and a caterer to deprive them of the biggest party they’ll ever be allowed to throw.

“Also true,” they agree. They are making steady progress with his nails and take a moment to grin up at him. “I’ll just have to find someone that likes nail polish then.”

“You’ll have to find someone that doesn’t mind being emotionally manipulated into letting you do random stuff,” Grantaire snarks, but his tone of voice is far too fond for Jehan to take him seriously.

“Other hand please,” Jehan requests smugly.

Grantaire gives them his other hand and moves the fingers of his right experimentally.

“Careful, it’s not dry yet,” Jehan warns.

“I know.” He lets his nails catch the light. They glitter. That is kind of pretty.

By the time Jehan is finished with both his hand Grantaire agrees that it’s a great idea. As soon as his nails are dry he lets Jehan film a close up of his hands playing the fastest piece he knows and snapchat it to all their friends with the caption “ART”, but only on the condition that they wail mournfully in the background. The responses are thoroughly confused (except for Bahorel’s, who just sends back: nice), which prompts them to send three more, with increasingly loud wailing from Jehan.

Grantaire’s phone buzzes and he pulls it out to see a text from Bossuet.

B the Bald Eagle: What the hell is going on?

Grantaire: Hanging out with Jehan 😘

B the Bald Eagle: You two should not be left alone together

“Bossuet is criticizing our friendship,” Grantaire grins.

“How rude,” Jehan grins back. “Tell you what, you paint my nails next and we’ll send him close up pictures of it until he begs us to stop.”

Grantaire lets out a heartfelt sigh. “That really is the only reasonable thing to do at this point,” he nods.

They proceed as planned. Grantaire makes a terrible mess of Jehan’s nails and the fact that Jehan keeps shaking with laughter doesn’t help. After the fifth picture Bossuet begins copy pasting the law article for harassment in the chat and Grantaire has to put the nail polish away before either of them spills it all over the floor. His stomach aches from laughing.

“Jehan,” Grantarie says seriously, once he’s caught enough breath to speak.

“Yeah?” they snort, trying to keep their still drying nails from touching anything.

“I bless the day you and your fuzzy rainbow legwarmers walked into my dance class,” he says with solemn exaggeration. “I really, really do.”

Is There An App For That? ;D

anonymous said:

Vic fuentes, you are having Skype sex , and the guys catch you and laugh and tease you. Love your blog 

Here you go lovely, hope you enjoy!! Aww and thanks :3

“Okay press play… Now!” I said squeaking a little from the excitement. Vic’s been on tour for a few months now and obviously we talk everyday but tonight he planned something special. It was his night off from playing a show and he chose not to go out with the guys to party, but have a movie night in with me.

I snuggled into the sheets more when the opening credit ended and looked across at my laptop that was sat on two pillows facing me with Vic’s face on. He had his eyes glued to the tv and and his arm resting on the back of the couch. I sat and stared, imagining my head resting on his shoulder with his fingers stroking circles onto my hand.

“You’re missing the movie, babe…”

His voice stopped me daydreaming and i started to chuckle.

“Haha sorry, I … It’s just not the same without you here” I said, looking down trying to hold back tears. “God I’m such a sap, It doesn’t matter. This is a great idea, thanks Vic.”

I carried on watching the film until I suddenly felt really uncomfortable, almost awkward in fact. Things started getting steamy and I felt my core pulse slightly. ‘Shit,’ I thought 'couldn’t this have happened before? I can’t hang up on him now…’ I decided to try suppress it and put it out of mind.

“Oh baby…” The girl on the film said as she stroked a finger slowly down the guy’s really impressive abs, “do me from behind, you know it’s my favourite.”

“Hey Y/N, isn’t that your favourite position too?” Vic said as confident as ever.

“Errmm…" 

'Fuck! Of course it is, he feels so good from behind, how could it not be. Now all I can do is picture it and the movie isn’t helping and I’m getting wetter and I was doing so well. It’s been so long since I touched myself and I don’t even want to know how long since I’ve had sex with Vic… I… I can’t deal with this…’

While I was having my internal meltdown, I managed to release a small moan from my lips. Who knew just the thought of him sent me this crazy. I started rubbing my clit slowly, trying not to let Vic realise.

"I’ll take that as a yes then.” He said, something had changed in his voice… I realised what it was soon after. “You remember what I feel like?”

The huskiness in Vic’s voice was enough to make me pleasure myself more, never mind what he was saying. I felt a wave wash through me as I managed to bite my lip and nod in reply. Apparently that was the right answer as I heard him unzip his jeans and pull them off. My eyes widened at the though of what we were doing but I soon carried on with it, I was far too horny to stop now.

“You don’t mind do you?” He said, realising what he was about to do.

“No it’s fine,” I sighed “you have some catching up to do though.”

With that Vic’s mouth dropped and words escaped his lips. His eyes were locked on the screen but not for long, they soon rolled back as his hand moved swiftly over his hard length. Throwing off my sleeping shirt and bra sent him into an even bigger state as he started groaning at the view and moaning my name. 

“I wanna see you.” I managed to choke out between breaths. Vic took a while to process the command in his hazy state but lowered the camera. For a moment, I hated the sight and it felt like torture but I couldn’t look away. He had his hand clasped around his hard length, stroking it slowly and rising his hips along with it. I pushed by fingers inside myself in rhythm with him and tried to stop myself from speeding ahead. “Fuck.. Vic, faster.” I moaned and started riding waves throughout my whole body.

“Woah Vic, what porn is that!?”

“Wait… Is that…?”

“Hi Y/N! Looking good!!”

I froze. Then quickly dove under neither my covers. Why are the guys back so early!!!??

“So this is what you kids use all the innovative new technology for… Is there an app for online Y/N sex now? Hey I’ll download it!”

Fucking Jaime and his fucking jokes.

I peeked through the covers and saw Vic with head in his hands. Jaime and the guys must have stumbled off drunk seen as though they were still laughing about it in the distance.

“I umm… guess that’s our movie nights over.” I said, chuckling awkwardly. I’m sure the guys’ll leave Vic alone about it in a few days. Well I hope so.

We said our goodnights and logged off, I’m sure we’ll all laugh about it in the future but for now, I’m just glad I’m not on that tour bus and safe from the teasing.

justjasper  asked:

prompt: bull has a secret admirer and its DEFINITELY not dorian...

“You know,” Krem drawled, leaning against a bookcase, close enough that Dorian had to crane his neck to look up at him. “You aren’t nearly as subtle as you think you are.”

Dorian’s lip curled with all the artful disapproval of a man trained from birth to be a magister. “I’m afraid, Cremisius, that I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

Krem sighed dramatically, two could play that that game. “That so?”

Dorian raised an eyebrow.

Krem raised his in return. “Ornate golden mirror, fancy, yet functional new buckle for the chief’s brassier, blanket in your family’s colours. Ringing any bells, Pavus?”

Dorian’s cheeks were distinctly pink, even in the candle light.

“I have to admit, the blanket was a nice touch considering the chief’s lack of clothes. Couldn’t bring yourself to commission a pair of his trousers?”

Dorian swallowed shifting nervously. “I’m not sure what you are implying but I-”

“So the package waiting for him in his room won’t be a bottle of wine straight from the vineyards of Qarinus?” Krem interrupted. “I might be a pleb but I know your fancy courting gifts when I see them.”

Dorian’s mouth snapped shut and he looked glumly down at his book. “He might have asked me to stop rather than telling you lot and have you all laughing at me.”

Krem wondered how a Dorian managed to take all the fun out of teasing him by looking so pathetic.

“Fuck ‘Vint, no one else knows, not even the chief.”

Dorian’s head snapped back up. “Excuse me? So what was this, exactly? Just your own personal entertainment?”

Ah, there was the haughty man Krem had no problem mocking. “I’m doing you a favour, Pavus, so take note.”

Dorian shifted his chair back so the angel he had to look up was less dramatic. “What favour could you possibly be doing by dragging up my shameful infatuation?”

Krem smirked. “Chief’s real charmed by the gifts, wants to take the person giving them out for a meal or something. Thinks they are really sweet.”

Dorian was going pink again, but after only the smallest stammer over the first word was the picture of composure. “Naturally, I don’t give second class gifts. I fail to see how you telling me is a favour.”

“He thinks its Valerie. You know, that sweet little circle mage with the legs?” Krem didn’t feel it was necessary to add that it was also the mage Dorian had a month-long feud with as she kept rearranging and borrowing his books.

Dorian froze, eyes widening.

“He’s still in the tavern though, if you run, you might be able to get to his room in time to leave a note with your latest gift.”

Dorian was out of his chair like had been burned, and Krem only just heard the mattered thanks as Dorian raced past him, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to get down the stairs. Krem dropped down into Dorian’s seat to drink in his success.

Not only, had watching Dorian run like that been very entertaining, he was totally going to win the bet the Chargers had going about how quickly Dorian would fall into bed with Bull. Krem didn’t even feel bad about what was technically cheating.

He was doing the two idiots a favour anyway.

accidental-rambler  asked:

Happy Anniversary, Luiza! Your writing is amazing and you're a gift to this fandom :) And since I'm greedy af when it comes to klaroline, here's my prompt: champagne + blood + happiness/nostalgia/jealousy (I couldn't quite decide xD)

Thank you so much, Kate! I hope you like this :)
From this list.


“Drink this.” Rebekah said, offering her a glass of champagne and Caroline snorted.

Seriously?

It was as if the Original was trying to make fun of her, which perhaps would’ve been true decades ago, but now they were friends. Or as close as Rebekah knew how to be, anyway.

Still, she brought the glass to her lips, sipping a little of its content, savouring the soft bubbles on her tongue and closing her eyes.

Damn him.

Damn him and his stupid dimples and beautiful eyes. Damn him and how he carved himself into her body and now she couldn’t get him out. Damn him and how he managed to associate with all of her favourite things just like – and damn it too – the champagne she was drinking.

What curse had she been put under that everything is a reminder of him?

It made her think of their days in Rome and Paris and Tokyo and damn all of those cities and the other ones they had visited because she missed those times like crazy.

She missed him.

Her skin craved his touch, her mind yearned for his challenging conversations and her lips longed for his.

Damn Klaus Mikaelson.

And damn that copy of her that had been keeping him company ever since his ultimatum – Caroline was only supposed to seek him out when she was truly ready to be with him. He was sick of goodbyes.

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