and if i'm given the chance to be a doll in his hands
There's. . .freaking out? And heterosexual sex? Only a little bit of heterosexual sex. I've got to ease back into that.
For lastfallen_hope, as her backup gift for gossipgirlsanta! It's not much longer than the bit I already posted, but there's an ending and everything! <333
Title: wedding bands, cigarettes
Pairing: Chuck/Blair
Word Count: roughly 2500
Rating: R
Warnings: future!fic, marriage proposals, fluff, mild sex in a dressing room, het written by a mostly slasher
Summary: Chuck takes a deep breath before launching into an in-depth speech on the positive aspects of living with him, mostly involving never having to work while still continuing to live in the manner to which she has become accustomed and having him without the risk of being cheated on with multiple groups of prostitutes, because married men apparently have morals that single men do not.
At New Haven, Blair doesn’t have Serena (which is one part awesome, because collegiate girls are sort of homely, so people are back to looking at her and her alone, and three parts lonely, because she’s Serena), and she spends most of her time glaring at Dan Humphrey when their paths cross and doing homework. In a library and everything. Sometimes, during finals, she even wears her hair in a ponytail, though she has made sure there is no photographic evidence to back this fact up.
These dire changes are one reason that she was willing to meet Chuck at a coffee shop off campus, one reason why she is nursing a latte and staring out suspiciously at the clusters of bohemian students like they’re going to attempt to convert her to their unwashed ways.
“Sorry I’m late,” Chuck murmurs, and she jumps, looking up to see him standing over her. He looks flushed, and his scarf is barely managing to stay around his neck, but it’s all very familiar. Familiar is nice.
“Did. . .you just say sorry?” she asks, blinking at him. “I didn’t think you even knew that word.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he replies, catching himself. He slides into a seat and grabs her latte, taking a long drink.
“Did you invite me here to steal my coffee, or was there a point?”
“Oh, yeah.” Chuck reaches into his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, opening it casually to reveal a very large diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”
Blair stares at him.
“. . .shut up.”
*
“He did what?” Serena’s voice is horror stricken over the phone, and Blair makes an impatient hand motion that she can’t see. Across the table, Chuck crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes, waiting.
“I know!” Blair says. “He didn’t get down on one knee or anything. It was insulting.”
“Are you guys even dating?”
Blair looks up at Chuck, curiously.
“Are we dating?”
“What we are can’t be defined by a word like dating,” Chuck says, ambiguously.
“I don’t think we’re dating,” she tells Serena.
“. . .did you say yes?” Serena asks, hesitantly.
“No!”
“Are you going to?”
“You should wait until you hear my speech before you decide anything,” Chuck interrupts, finishing her latte. He has taken off his scarf and jacket, and the sleeves of his white shirt are pushed up to expose skin, sharp elbows. She swallows hard and shakes her head, refusing to be seduced by his forearms.
“If he has a speech,” Serena says, “put me on speaker phone. I want to hear this.”
“Sure.” Blair sits her phone on the table in front of Chuck, then looks up at him, expectantly, a little sharp. “Go ahead.”
Chuck takes a deep breath before launching into an in-depth speech on the positive aspects of living with him, mostly involving never having to work while still continuing to live in the manner to which she has become accustomed and having him without the risk of being cheated on with multiple groups of prostitutes, because married men apparently have morals that single men do not.
“And why do you think I want that?” Blair asks, after he has finished, frowning at him.
“Because you do,” he replies, simply, and she’s gives him credit for not adding because I’m Chuck Bass.
“Maybe you should add something about love in there,” Serena’s voice adds, distant and sarcastic.
“I’m hanging up on you now,” Chuck says, then does so, eyes trained on Blair. “And I thought that part was implied.”
“Oh,” Blair says, then: “Well.”
*
Two hours later, Blair has forsaken her afternoon classes in favor of hiding in her dorm room with her sheets over her head. Chuck had left her at the coffee shop with a quick, safe kiss and a promise to be back in a week for her decision, and she had fled to very firmly not think about what he had asked her. From across the room, there’s a knock on her door, and she makes a low, threatening noise that will hopefully scare away her roommates.
It turns out, it’s just Dan Humphrey, who is too ridiculous to be scared of her anymore.
“Serena told me you’re due to be the next blushing Bass,” Dan says, and Blair pulls the sheets away from her and glares at him through a mess of hair.
“Who let you in? So I can have them killed,” she says. “And Serena is a liar. She lies. You should break up with her, and then never speak to me again.”
“I just wanted to check at the source,” he says, and he’s smiling like something really amusing has happened, which should definitely stop right now. She casts her eyes out for something heavy to throw at him, then settles for her pillow, which he dodges narrowly.
“Check with Chuck, then,” she says, pushing herself onto her feet and storming past him. “And don’t expect an invitation to the wedding!”
Five seconds later, she storms back.
“Not,” she adds, “that there’s going to be any wedding.”
“Of course,” Dan says, amiably.
*
Blair is no longer friends with Serena. This is the only thing that she knows for certain, as she is currently on the floor of the stacks, hiding in the section filled with periodicals about ancient Babylonian architecture.
“Maybe he’ll hire those guys,” Serena is saying, tinny laughter in Blair’s ear, “the ones who sing about little lost lambs and stuff. What are they called, Whiffenpops or. . .”
“Poofs,” Blair says. “Whiffenpoofs.”
“Right.” Serena laughs again. “They’ll hunt you down and serenade you.”
“You’re supposed to be telling me what to do,” Blair says, mournfully. “Why are you so unhelpful?”
“I’m sorry, Blair,” Serena says, and it’s almost earnest, but there’s still a hint of a laugh to her voice, and Blair sighs and hits her head against the bookshelf behind her. “But what do you want me to say? It’s Chuck. You guys have been acting like a married couple since. . .forever.”
“I just don’t want to say no,” Blair murmurs, “because I’m afraid I won’t be able to say yes later.”
“Oh, B,” Serena says, sighing. “He’s always waited. Maybe not patiently, or without a small army of prostitutes, but he’s been waiting.”
“Until he gets a mail-order bride or something,” Blair says, but she’s smiling, just a little.
*
Three days and fourteen hours into the week, she’s completely given up hope of making a decision when Eric texts her on her now slightly battered cellphone.
chuck’s distraught, it says, and only a Van Der Woodsen could text the word distraught completely unironically. save him.
Alwkjiefoiwheoribawer, she texts back, and three seconds later Eric calls her and says in a very calm voice:
“Don’t tell him I told you this, since I’m hiding from him in the bathroom right now, but Chuck is a step away from going crazy enough to run off to join the circus or, like, take sixteen of Mom’s Ativan. So, if you could maybe give some sort of affirmation. . .that would be awesome, Blair.”
“Smallest Van Der Woodsen,” she says, dangerously, glaring at the wall in front of her and assuming he can hear it. “I have a week.”
“But I might not,” Eric says. “He might kill us all.”
“I can’t honestly bring myself to care,” she replies. There’s a long moment of silence in which she can hear Chuck asking Eric’s opinion on the romantic irony of putting arsenic in a champagne glass with a wedding ring in the bottom, and Eric swears delicately.
“My blood,” he says, and he mostly seems to be joking, “will be on your hands.”
*
Blair writes half an essay and reads the introduction to a book, then she inexplicably finds herself in a dress shop outside of New Haven, wearing an ivory wedding dress with diamonds at the neckline. She’s not entirely sure how she got here, but she’s attempting to come up with a story involving being kidnaped and forced to model for her life. She puts a hand on her hip and angles her head towards the mirror, turning a little to see the way the dress curves against her body.
“Nice,” a voice murmurs, and she whirls around to see Chuck lurking in a corner, a little hidden by lace and chiffon, smiling at her.
“Oh my god,” she says. “Are you stalking me?”
“Actually, this is just a pleasant coincidence..” he replies, stepping forward into the light. “I was looking at suits.” He moves to press fingers against her shoulder, turning her around so she’s facing the mirror again. His hands slide down to touch her waist, her hips.
“Is this against the rules?” she asks, a little shakily. “This should. This should be against the rules.”
“When did we ever play by the rules?” Chuck breathes, against her neck. She makes an embarrassing noise and wrinkles her nose at him in the mirror, turning to take his wrist and drag him into the dressing room.
He’s careful about taking off her dress, slowly unzipping it and holding her arms to steady her as she steps out of it. She watches impatiently as he folds it over the door, folding her hands over his hips, making him stumble as he moves back to her.
“What you’re doing isn’t affecting my decision at all, I’ll have you know,” she hisses, then gasps when he pushes her up against the wall, holding on to her thighs to coax her legs around him. She moves up against him and presses her face into his neck, biting at the stretched skin there, moving her lips over the marks she makes.
“I’d have to beg to differ,” he says, but his voice cracks at the end of the sentence as she unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, moving her hips forward until he moves up enough to slowly slide inside of her. She chokes a little bit, moving her neck to kiss him, hard.
“Not at all,” she repeats, breathlessly.
*
As soon as Blair can get her clothes on, she leaves Chuck and the abandoned wedding dress in the dressing room and flees with as much dignity as she can, driving back to school and going to her room to grab her laptop. Outside, she finds a bench that’s tucked away from the rest of the grounds and settles onto it, cuing up her email.
There are three from Eric, one from Serena and one from her mother.
Eric’s start with: oh my god, please stop him.
And eventually lead to: i don’t want to hear details of your acts of heterosexual exhibitionism, seriously, eew.
Serena’s says: kinky sex in public places = true love, y/y?
Her mother’s used phrases like ‘shocked and not unpleased to hear of your upcoming nuptials’, and she clears her inbox before slumping down and tilting her neck and screaming, just a little bit, letting her neck rest against the back of the bench. When she opens her eyes, she sees a few people glancing her way from the sidewalk, but she just gives them a bitchy, upside down look.
Her mother likes this, and that alone makes Blair want to deny everything and say no to Chuck and run away to live somewhere in the Himalayas, but the thing is. The thing is.
(The thing is she really, really wants to say yes. Any maybe take Chuck with her to the Himalayas.)
*
It’s 2:00 on a Saturday morning, exactly one week since Chuck possibly ruined her life. It’s 2:00 on a Saturday morning, exactly one week since Chuck possibly ruined her life, and Blair is on a plane to New York because she doesn't trust herself to drive without committing mostly intentional suicide and also because Blair is the most ridiculous person to ever exist, ever.
When she lands, she calls Serena, presses the phone to her ear and murmurs, “I’m going to say yes, I’m going to say yes, I’m going to say yes. . .” until Serena officially wakes up and makes a high-pitched squeaking noise that should never happen before
“Nate had to convince Chuck not to leave at midnight!” Serena says. “You’re officially just as crazy as he is! This is so perfect, oh my god.”
Blair does not understand how it’s possible that Serena could be awake for all of two minutes and yet still be more awake than Blair.
“Where is he?” she asks, weakly.
“Try the suite. He’s been drowning his sorrows in alcohol when he hasn’t been harassing people about whether or not true love will prevail,” Serena says, and Blair hangs up on her before she can say anything else.
She takes a cab to the hotel. If Chuck loves her that much, he’ll marry her even if there’s not enough concealer in the world to cover the circles under her eyes and she smells like the seedy underbelly of New York City.
*
When she gets to his suite, she finds him asleep on the bed. She stares for a few minutes, watching the way he curls up into himself when there’s not someone beside him, before she moves over to slide next to him. He stirs, turning to look at her as she wraps arms around his waist.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Hey,” she whispers back. “Will you marry me?”
He pauses to consider it, and she holds him a little tighter.
“Yeah,” he says, finally, turning to smile into her neck. “I guess.”
For lastfallen_hope, as her backup gift for gossipgirlsanta! It's not much longer than the bit I already posted, but there's an ending and everything! <333
Title: wedding bands, cigarettes
Pairing: Chuck/Blair
Word Count: roughly 2500
Rating: R
Warnings: future!fic, marriage proposals, fluff, mild sex in a dressing room, het written by a mostly slasher
Summary: Chuck takes a deep breath before launching into an in-depth speech on the positive aspects of living with him, mostly involving never having to work while still continuing to live in the manner to which she has become accustomed and having him without the risk of being cheated on with multiple groups of prostitutes, because married men apparently have morals that single men do not.
At New Haven, Blair doesn’t have Serena (which is one part awesome, because collegiate girls are sort of homely, so people are back to looking at her and her alone, and three parts lonely, because she’s Serena), and she spends most of her time glaring at Dan Humphrey when their paths cross and doing homework. In a library and everything. Sometimes, during finals, she even wears her hair in a ponytail, though she has made sure there is no photographic evidence to back this fact up.
These dire changes are one reason that she was willing to meet Chuck at a coffee shop off campus, one reason why she is nursing a latte and staring out suspiciously at the clusters of bohemian students like they’re going to attempt to convert her to their unwashed ways.
“Sorry I’m late,” Chuck murmurs, and she jumps, looking up to see him standing over her. He looks flushed, and his scarf is barely managing to stay around his neck, but it’s all very familiar. Familiar is nice.
“Did. . .you just say sorry?” she asks, blinking at him. “I didn’t think you even knew that word.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he replies, catching himself. He slides into a seat and grabs her latte, taking a long drink.
“Did you invite me here to steal my coffee, or was there a point?”
“Oh, yeah.” Chuck reaches into his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, opening it casually to reveal a very large diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”
Blair stares at him.
“. . .shut up.”
*
“He did what?” Serena’s voice is horror stricken over the phone, and Blair makes an impatient hand motion that she can’t see. Across the table, Chuck crosses his arms over his chest and rolls his eyes, waiting.
“I know!” Blair says. “He didn’t get down on one knee or anything. It was insulting.”
“Are you guys even dating?”
Blair looks up at Chuck, curiously.
“Are we dating?”
“What we are can’t be defined by a word like dating,” Chuck says, ambiguously.
“I don’t think we’re dating,” she tells Serena.
“. . .did you say yes?” Serena asks, hesitantly.
“No!”
“Are you going to?”
“You should wait until you hear my speech before you decide anything,” Chuck interrupts, finishing her latte. He has taken off his scarf and jacket, and the sleeves of his white shirt are pushed up to expose skin, sharp elbows. She swallows hard and shakes her head, refusing to be seduced by his forearms.
“If he has a speech,” Serena says, “put me on speaker phone. I want to hear this.”
“Sure.” Blair sits her phone on the table in front of Chuck, then looks up at him, expectantly, a little sharp. “Go ahead.”
Chuck takes a deep breath before launching into an in-depth speech on the positive aspects of living with him, mostly involving never having to work while still continuing to live in the manner to which she has become accustomed and having him without the risk of being cheated on with multiple groups of prostitutes, because married men apparently have morals that single men do not.
“And why do you think I want that?” Blair asks, after he has finished, frowning at him.
“Because you do,” he replies, simply, and she’s gives him credit for not adding because I’m Chuck Bass.
“Maybe you should add something about love in there,” Serena’s voice adds, distant and sarcastic.
“I’m hanging up on you now,” Chuck says, then does so, eyes trained on Blair. “And I thought that part was implied.”
“Oh,” Blair says, then: “Well.”
*
Two hours later, Blair has forsaken her afternoon classes in favor of hiding in her dorm room with her sheets over her head. Chuck had left her at the coffee shop with a quick, safe kiss and a promise to be back in a week for her decision, and she had fled to very firmly not think about what he had asked her. From across the room, there’s a knock on her door, and she makes a low, threatening noise that will hopefully scare away her roommates.
It turns out, it’s just Dan Humphrey, who is too ridiculous to be scared of her anymore.
“Serena told me you’re due to be the next blushing Bass,” Dan says, and Blair pulls the sheets away from her and glares at him through a mess of hair.
“Who let you in? So I can have them killed,” she says. “And Serena is a liar. She lies. You should break up with her, and then never speak to me again.”
“I just wanted to check at the source,” he says, and he’s smiling like something really amusing has happened, which should definitely stop right now. She casts her eyes out for something heavy to throw at him, then settles for her pillow, which he dodges narrowly.
“Check with Chuck, then,” she says, pushing herself onto her feet and storming past him. “And don’t expect an invitation to the wedding!”
Five seconds later, she storms back.
“Not,” she adds, “that there’s going to be any wedding.”
“Of course,” Dan says, amiably.
*
Blair is no longer friends with Serena. This is the only thing that she knows for certain, as she is currently on the floor of the stacks, hiding in the section filled with periodicals about ancient Babylonian architecture.
“Maybe he’ll hire those guys,” Serena is saying, tinny laughter in Blair’s ear, “the ones who sing about little lost lambs and stuff. What are they called, Whiffenpops or. . .”
“Poofs,” Blair says. “Whiffenpoofs.”
“Right.” Serena laughs again. “They’ll hunt you down and serenade you.”
“You’re supposed to be telling me what to do,” Blair says, mournfully. “Why are you so unhelpful?”
“I’m sorry, Blair,” Serena says, and it’s almost earnest, but there’s still a hint of a laugh to her voice, and Blair sighs and hits her head against the bookshelf behind her. “But what do you want me to say? It’s Chuck. You guys have been acting like a married couple since. . .forever.”
“I just don’t want to say no,” Blair murmurs, “because I’m afraid I won’t be able to say yes later.”
“Oh, B,” Serena says, sighing. “He’s always waited. Maybe not patiently, or without a small army of prostitutes, but he’s been waiting.”
“Until he gets a mail-order bride or something,” Blair says, but she’s smiling, just a little.
*
Three days and fourteen hours into the week, she’s completely given up hope of making a decision when Eric texts her on her now slightly battered cellphone.
chuck’s distraught, it says, and only a Van Der Woodsen could text the word distraught completely unironically. save him.
Alwkjiefoiwheoribawer, she texts back, and three seconds later Eric calls her and says in a very calm voice:
“Don’t tell him I told you this, since I’m hiding from him in the bathroom right now, but Chuck is a step away from going crazy enough to run off to join the circus or, like, take sixteen of Mom’s Ativan. So, if you could maybe give some sort of affirmation. . .that would be awesome, Blair.”
“Smallest Van Der Woodsen,” she says, dangerously, glaring at the wall in front of her and assuming he can hear it. “I have a week.”
“But I might not,” Eric says. “He might kill us all.”
“I can’t honestly bring myself to care,” she replies. There’s a long moment of silence in which she can hear Chuck asking Eric’s opinion on the romantic irony of putting arsenic in a champagne glass with a wedding ring in the bottom, and Eric swears delicately.
“My blood,” he says, and he mostly seems to be joking, “will be on your hands.”
*
Blair writes half an essay and reads the introduction to a book, then she inexplicably finds herself in a dress shop outside of New Haven, wearing an ivory wedding dress with diamonds at the neckline. She’s not entirely sure how she got here, but she’s attempting to come up with a story involving being kidnaped and forced to model for her life. She puts a hand on her hip and angles her head towards the mirror, turning a little to see the way the dress curves against her body.
“Nice,” a voice murmurs, and she whirls around to see Chuck lurking in a corner, a little hidden by lace and chiffon, smiling at her.
“Oh my god,” she says. “Are you stalking me?”
“Actually, this is just a pleasant coincidence..” he replies, stepping forward into the light. “I was looking at suits.” He moves to press fingers against her shoulder, turning her around so she’s facing the mirror again. His hands slide down to touch her waist, her hips.
“Is this against the rules?” she asks, a little shakily. “This should. This should be against the rules.”
“When did we ever play by the rules?” Chuck breathes, against her neck. She makes an embarrassing noise and wrinkles her nose at him in the mirror, turning to take his wrist and drag him into the dressing room.
He’s careful about taking off her dress, slowly unzipping it and holding her arms to steady her as she steps out of it. She watches impatiently as he folds it over the door, folding her hands over his hips, making him stumble as he moves back to her.
“What you’re doing isn’t affecting my decision at all, I’ll have you know,” she hisses, then gasps when he pushes her up against the wall, holding on to her thighs to coax her legs around him. She moves up against him and presses her face into his neck, biting at the stretched skin there, moving her lips over the marks she makes.
“I’d have to beg to differ,” he says, but his voice cracks at the end of the sentence as she unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, moving her hips forward until he moves up enough to slowly slide inside of her. She chokes a little bit, moving her neck to kiss him, hard.
“Not at all,” she repeats, breathlessly.
*
As soon as Blair can get her clothes on, she leaves Chuck and the abandoned wedding dress in the dressing room and flees with as much dignity as she can, driving back to school and going to her room to grab her laptop. Outside, she finds a bench that’s tucked away from the rest of the grounds and settles onto it, cuing up her email.
There are three from Eric, one from Serena and one from her mother.
Eric’s start with: oh my god, please stop him.
And eventually lead to: i don’t want to hear details of your acts of heterosexual exhibitionism, seriously, eew.
Serena’s says: kinky sex in public places = true love, y/y?
Her mother’s used phrases like ‘shocked and not unpleased to hear of your upcoming nuptials’, and she clears her inbox before slumping down and tilting her neck and screaming, just a little bit, letting her neck rest against the back of the bench. When she opens her eyes, she sees a few people glancing her way from the sidewalk, but she just gives them a bitchy, upside down look.
Her mother likes this, and that alone makes Blair want to deny everything and say no to Chuck and run away to live somewhere in the Himalayas, but the thing is. The thing is.
(The thing is she really, really wants to say yes. Any maybe take Chuck with her to the Himalayas.)
*
It’s 2:00 on a Saturday morning, exactly one week since Chuck possibly ruined her life. It’s 2:00 on a Saturday morning, exactly one week since Chuck possibly ruined her life, and Blair is on a plane to New York because she doesn't trust herself to drive without committing mostly intentional suicide and also because Blair is the most ridiculous person to ever exist, ever.
When she lands, she calls Serena, presses the phone to her ear and murmurs, “I’m going to say yes, I’m going to say yes, I’m going to say yes. . .” until Serena officially wakes up and makes a high-pitched squeaking noise that should never happen before
“Nate had to convince Chuck not to leave at midnight!” Serena says. “You’re officially just as crazy as he is! This is so perfect, oh my god.”
Blair does not understand how it’s possible that Serena could be awake for all of two minutes and yet still be more awake than Blair.
“Where is he?” she asks, weakly.
“Try the suite. He’s been drowning his sorrows in alcohol when he hasn’t been harassing people about whether or not true love will prevail,” Serena says, and Blair hangs up on her before she can say anything else.
She takes a cab to the hotel. If Chuck loves her that much, he’ll marry her even if there’s not enough concealer in the world to cover the circles under her eyes and she smells like the seedy underbelly of New York City.
*
When she gets to his suite, she finds him asleep on the bed. She stares for a few minutes, watching the way he curls up into himself when there’s not someone beside him, before she moves over to slide next to him. He stirs, turning to look at her as she wraps arms around his waist.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Hey,” she whispers back. “Will you marry me?”
He pauses to consider it, and she holds him a little tighter.
“Yeah,” he says, finally, turning to smile into her neck. “I guess.”