#if there’s one thing I’m gonna draw it’s a side profile huh wow

[emmaspolaroid]

doodles

[spencersweetie]

Coincidence (Spencer x GN!Reader Onseshot)

Category: Fluff

Summary: Spencer and Reader accidentally have a museum date when they run into each other. 

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none <3

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“Y/N!” A familiar voice called your name. You turned around and faced a familiar man whom you’d met through your friend Penelope. Spencer stood smiling at you with his hands in his pockets. He energetically waved at you.

You grinned back at him. “Hey Spencer! What a crazy coincidence, us both being here at the same time.” You had spontaneously decided to visit the National Gallery of Art since you had a free day to yourself over the weekend.

“Totally!” He responded. “I’m supposed to have the whole weekend off so I thought I’d revisit the gallery. How are you?”

“I’m alright! You’re revisiting? How many times have you been here? This is my first time seeing the gallery.” You had been to other art museums in Maryland but never the National Gallery of Art since you had recently moved to D.C. a year ago.

Spencer chuckled lightly. “This would be my ninth time coming here. I saw the gallery for the first time when I was nine years old  and couldn’t keep myself away from this place.

“Wow!” You exclaimed. “I don’t blame you, I’ve only seen the sculpture garden and the first few pieces in this wing so far and everything is gorgeous; I’m in love already.”

“You know what, I’ve got the building memorized!” Spencer eagerly informed you. “If you want, I could be your personal guide and show you the best parts of each exhibit and take you on the most efficient path through the museum! I mean, you don’t have to say yes, it’s up to you.”

“Spencer, that’d be awesome, I’ll totally tag along if you’re cool with that!” You beamed at him, trying to hide your excitement. You usually went on trips like these alone so it was nice to have someone who could enjoy the same thing as you by your side.

“Great, let’s go!” Spencer turned and gestured towards the next exhibit.

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As you and Spencer explored the museum together, you noticed how abnormally comfortable you felt around him. You two had never hung out without Penelope so this was a first for you both. Even without your mutual friend, you found that Spencer was both easy to listen to and easy to talk to. He of course knew a lot about the art in the gallery and thoroughly explained each piece to you but you appreciated that he never talked to you like you were dumb or lesser than him. He regularly asked if you were okay with his infodumps as well, which you completely didn’t mind. You could tell that he undoubtedly had a passion for the arts, and you liked that he was so enthusiastic to share that with you.

While you did certainly find Spencer’s interesting facts to be intriguing, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you looked at him from the side. He didn’t notice your looking as he faced the painting while he talked to you, completely occupied by the piece that was on the wall in front of him. You liked the way he spoke about the art that he showed you. Spencer was very animated, clearly demonstrating his excitement about whatever he was explaining in the movement of his hands. His face was quite expressive too. His eyebrows rose and fell as he talked and his eyes squinted and widened as he conversed with you. You hadn’t noticed how pretty Spencer’s eyes were until now, how his irises were brown but with little gold specks on the inside. You liked that when he wrinkled his nose in the middle of a sentence, his scrunch reached the top of his nose bridge between his eyes. His nose was a nice nose, you thought. It enhanced his side profile and turned slightly upwards when he smiled too. And his lips. Today you noticed that his lips were quite… pink. And full. And plump. You had to catch yourself when your eyes traveled down from Spencer’s eyes to his mouth when he spoke, then hope that he didn’t notice your distraction. You just liked that way he smiled, that’s all, you told yourself. He often kept his smile as he talked and continued to smile when you spoke to him too. You liked the way his lips puckered when his smile grew bigger as he finished his sentences. It seemed like an uncontrollable habit of his-

“Y/N?” Spencer interrupted your thoughts. He looked at you with his brows slightly raised.

“Hm, yeah?” Your mind snapped back to the present moment. “I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

“Are you okay? Am I boring you? We could stop here if you want!”

“No, Spencer- it’s fine!” You jumped to explain. “You’re good, I promise! I’m not bored, I just got lost in my thoughts for a second. Um, the only da Vinci painting in the U.S. right? Is this one here?” 

“Exactly!” Spencer lit up and straightened his posture. “Da Vinci painted less than 20 oil paintings throughout his career; this one was bought for $5 million and arrived in D.C. in 1969!”

“Damn!” You exclaimed. “So that makes this portrait like, the Mona Lisa of the National Gallery, huh?”

“Absolutely!” Spencer agreed with you. “The gallery has other Da Vinci pieces displayed but none that are as rare and valuable as an oil painting of his. This one, Ginerva de’ Benci, is a portrait of a daughter of a banker, most likely commissioned when she was about 16 and just engaged. You know, the juniper bush is what’s in the background. Juniper represents chastity which was one of the most significant traits of a woman in the Renaissance era. It’s kind of a subtle little pun, including the juniper plant, because in Italian the plant is called ginepro.”

“Oh! Ginepro, Ginerva! That’s so cute, I love it!” You told him. “I like how there’s like no fancy jewelry or finery on her in this portrait too. It’s different from the Renaissance portraits of the other ladies that we saw.”

“Yeah, it’s a little bit of a surprise when it comes to a portrait like this that she isn’t completely dressed up! It doesn’t reveal her family’s wealth like portraits commonly do. I love that you noticed that.” Spencer’s lips turned at the corners in appreciation of your attention to detail. “Let’s move onto the next one!”

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You and Spencer moved on through the exhibit, then through the rest of the museum. You two enjoyed each other’s company for the day and were able to see all the art in three hours. As you exited, you found yourself laughing as you and Spencer recalled the events of the day. “I still can’t believe they kept trying to pay you for a private tour even after you insisted you weren’t a museum tour guide!” You laughed into your hand which was clapped over your mouth, trying not to draw attention to you and Spencer. 

“Shut up!” Spencer jokingly rolled his eyes at you. “I hate that they were gathered around me too, attracting a crowd while trying to hand me money. I don’t even wear a uniform like the other employees!” Spencer cracked up along with you, shaking as he pictured himself standing next to you, explaining to a group of strangers that he was just visiting with a friend, not working for the gallery.

You shrieked with laughter, uncontrollably gasping for air as you tried to calm yourself. “Then when they said they would call the gallery and get you fired for denying customers!” Tears were coming out of your eyes from being unable to stop laughing. “And you just went ‘Okay!’ and walked off without me!” You missed a step and tripped, grabbing Spencer’s arm as you fell into him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You were half still dying from laughing and half freaking out from your mistake. “I didn’t mean to grab you, I know you’ve got a germ thing! I think I just got a little carried away and wasn’t careful enough to watch my step!” You frantically apologized to Spencer. “Are you okay?”

Spencer grinned at you and dusted you off on your shoulders. “Relax, Y/N. I know you’re not germy; I’m not gonna freak out if you touch me. And I’m fine, you’re the one who fell!” He reassured you. “Are you okay? Do you need a second? You’re pink in the face, I don’t know if from laughing or from tripping on the step.”

“I’m fine, I’m good! Thank you Spencer.” You replied, still hot around your face. “Let’s just get out of here before I start to laugh and embarrass myself again.” You chuckled. “Are you free for the rest of the day? We could get something to eat if you’re hungry!” 

Spencer smiled at you. “Yeah, I’m free! Do you like Indian? There’s this new place that’s about 10 minutes from here-”

A loud ringing cut his sentence off. Spencer sighed and apologetically looked at you before whipping his cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah?” He spoke into the phone.

He listened for a few seconds before speaking. “I’m in D.C. but I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thanks, Penelope.” Spencer hung up and shoved his phone back into his coat.

“Got a case?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’m so sorry, Y/N, I know we were supposed to-”

“Spence!” You stopped him. “You don’t have to apologize, we didn’t even plan on hanging out today!”

Spencer’s eyes softened; he expected you to express disappointment before anything else and was surprised that you were understanding instead. He smiled and nodded. “Okay, but we could still check out the new Indian place another time, yeah?”

You felt butterflies in your stomach emerging. “Of course. Thank you for today, Spencer. I had an amazing time.”

“Me too, Y/N. I’ll text you when we get back!” 

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to comment your thoughts or send anon feedback, anything is appreciated <33

[torujours]

"Their Portrait" 

✏️ paring: kita x gn!reader

✏️ summary: it's not easy when artist can't find inspiration, in the last attempt to find some Kita to find it in the form of you on a warm November day and he's determined to find it again. 

✏️ WC: 1656

✏️ warnings: none other than my bad writing

✏️ A/N: hope you like this one! i have been trying to write something for kita foreVER cause the brainrOT is real and as always reblogs are super duper appreciated!! 

The sun shone down on the park as birds chirp over head, kita inhales taking in the November air. It's an unusual warm day so why not enjoy it before the snow comes. He doesn't go to the park often, preferring a much more quiet enclosed in space. Yet, he holds onto his stretch book tightly as he walks past people walking their dogs, children playing and older people feeding birds that have landed on the ground. This is perfect, he should get a lot of inspiration here right? He has been struggling the past few weeks trying to get some inspiration to pick up his pencil and just draw. He was hopeful at least.

So he finds a tiny table, most of them taken from other people, and set his supplies down. Looking around at his surroundings, being an artist was always both a challenge and enjoyable to him. Inspiration hit him like a truck some times and other times it's as if he couldn't draw even if his life depended on it.

Shaking his head, he knew inspiration would come when it came so he decided to start sketching the trees around him till that time came.

He hoped it just came soon.

~~~~~

The smile doesn't leave your face as you stop jogging and take deep breaths in and out. You have jogged the longest you have in a while so you are feeling pretty accomplished. Plus it's gonna be hard to jog outside when the snow came. but it was time to give your legs a break, so you walk around the familiar park and even greet some people you have met while jogging in the past.

It takes a little while for you to find an empty place to sit, not really wanting to sit on the ground (cause you knew that after that run you wouldn't get up if you did) but your legs saving grace came when you saw an empty chair across to someone with gray hair and black tips. He is doing something with what looks like a book but you walk over anyway “excuse me?” you start politely and he looks up, pushing up his glasses while taking in your “yes?” you send him a smile “can i sit here? sorry i just need to give my legs a break” you chuckle a bit but he just nods “sure thing..”

His smile is subtle but it's there. Saying thanks, you sit down and sigh happily.

Now kita doesn't want to seem creepy but watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment after you sit down. Blaming it on his “artist blood” was the reason why he paid so much attention to your side profile. Kita was man who could admit you had a nice face. Calling you good looking was too much for him, after all you are a stranger but you caught his eye and that’s saying something.

Kita stares down at the tree sketches and found himself annoyed with the lack of inspiration but hearing you giggle making him look over for just a second. You are now leaning on the table, looking at your phone. A smile can be seen on your face and Kita just picks up his pencil again, flips to a clean page of his sketchbook and starts the outline of a human face.

God this could be seen as creepy but he draws the best faces when there is a much closer example and here you are, still minding your own business and typing away at your phone. Kita keeps you in the corner of his eye, wishing to look at you head on again for a much cleaner view but he can't do that. So he roughly sketches your cheeks, the shape of your nose, the arch of your eyebrows, the way your lips look soft and nice-

He stops his hand, feeling embarrassed his by his thoughts so he moved on from your...lips and moved to your eyes. The sun wasn't shining in them or anything but they still looked bright (maybe it was your phone), the shape of them was unique and he would love to get a better look. He sketches and sketches your face, a small smile on his lips as the drawing smiles up at him but his pencil stops as you stand up and stretch your arms. He looks up at you for a moment before dropping his head again then second you turn to him “thank you for letting me sit with you...goodbye” you give him a small wave and he just nods “goodbye...” and with that you jog away, leaving Kita alone with his incomplete drawing of your happy face.

~~~~~

Kita tried to complete the portrait of you but he couldn't. He just couldn't replicate your face the same way without you in front of him. He prides himself in not letting artwork unfinished but what can he do in this case? It's not like he would see you again? He shuts his sketchbook and sighs, maybe he would go back to the park tomorrow. Maybe he would see you again. Maybe he would say something this time. Maybe.

Well two of those three maybes came true, cause once again Kita was greeted to a warm day as he making his way around the park. Just as full as yesterday but now he had a mission, an objective, inspiration.

Maybe this was stupid, he knew nothing about you. What if you had school or work or don't even live around here? Why was he so caught up in finding you besides his pride to finish the sketch of your face. Still he found the same table he was at the previous day Once again placing his sketchbook down he sat and looked around for you he knew his chances of finding you again we are slim but he tried to remain hopeful anyway.

You were going to go back to the park, but a friend of yours wanted to meet up there and spend some time together. You were walking around trying to find a place to wait for them but they texted you that they couldn't make it something came up so you thought about what you could do with your changed plans while still walking around. You were just about to walk back and out of the park when you realize this was the part of the park you were just yesterday and more importantly, you saw Kita. So being nice, you wanted to greet him before making your leave (so you don't disturb him he looks like he is looking for someone) so you walk over and almost laugh as he jumps slightly at seeing you appear beside him.

“Hello again! sorry I didn't mean to scare you” he laughs awkwardly and turns to face you head on “ah no you didn't but hello it's nice to see you again” you notice the words “sketchbook” on the book resting on the park table “likewise but hm that was draw you were doing yesterday i see” kita panics a bit as you sit down across from him again, yet he nods “yes i’m an artist..” “really? that's amazing! and oh i’m y/n by the way haha i didn't get to introduce myself yesterday” Kita smiles “I’m Kita Shinsuke and i’m not that good of an artist honestly..” you rest your cheek on your hand “i’m sure you are wonderful, I’d love see your work if you are comfortable...” kita thinks for a moment, his hand already going to hand you the precious sketchbook “here you go, it's alright...” wait his sketch of you is in there but it's too late cause you are smiling widely as you flip carefully through the various sketches he's done over the course of having the sketchbook. “They are beautiful!” You take in the talent strokes of his pencil carefully as you look at all the sketches. Kita watches you nervously, feeling a little sick as you get to the last page of the sketchbook.

The page with your Portrait on it.

it doesn't hit just what you are looking at till you notice the date, time and place written at the bottom of the page along with a tiny title “the Portrait”. It's you. He started drawing you. A lot of thoughts run through your head but first of all, it's beautiful. He has already captured so much of your face in the small amount of time you two were together yesterday. And you giggle a bit, feeling flattered but kita is about to explode from the embarrassment. “I-I...I'm sorry I should have ask your permission before I started doing anything-” you cut off his apology with another chuckle as your fingers trace over the paper “don't be sorry this is so amazing... i’m really flattered you saw me worthy of even drawing in the first place”

he made you look so good wow even if it was incomplete.

You hand him back the sketchbook and smile “so when can I pose for you to finish it hm?” Kita coughed a bit to hide his surprise as you flash a big smile toward him, he was cute honestly “huh?” “you wanna finish it don't you? but you need my face so consider me your muse” you state proudly, you never molded for anyone before so this was new yet excited for you. Kita pushes up his glasses again before breaking out in a much bigger smile that almost catches you off guard with how warm it is. “Muse huh? I’d like that...”

You and kita chat as he softly moves his pencil, finally getting that perfect view of your face and maybe it's just he is glad to have some inspiration or something more but he could get use to drawing you much more and more.

[not-gae-cuz-i-like-straight-wae]

WOW!!! Warning: there are some SERIOUSLY AWFUL HATERS out here on Tumblr!!! \(°o°)/

Okay, I don’t exactly know how to put this, but I’m gonna try anyway.

What I’m gonna talk about, happened yesterday, but I was kind of in a SHOCK because of it, so I totally didn’t know what to say... But I DO know that I’m INCREDIBLY DISAPPOINTED and also VERY MAD! Someone TOTALLY insulted me PERSONALLY and even told lies about me as well! It's completely unjustified. That much I know for sure. This person is so hateful, that even though I’m no hater, it’s kinda contagious and I feel like hating that person back. Especially after what all that already happened before the person did what he/she did. What a filthy TRAITOR!

So this person makes fan art and I was a great fan of it. I even had drawings of that person on my laptop lock screen and background. I knew they all were on his/her Tumblr page, but I had no account yet, so I couldn’t like the posts or something else. Eventually, after seeing more interesting stuff on Tumblr, I decided to create an account for myself. One of the first things I did, was following this person, liking a lot of his/her fan art and I wrote many kind comments in which I let him/her know how much I loved the art. I also sent some private messages to this person to tell him/her these things personally (and it were long messages, not just some short sentence like “I like your art”) and that I’d love to see more of the characters he/she drew. He/she replied with a “thank you” and said he/she would indeed make more and I said that I couldn’t wait.

Then (and this was yesterday) I looked at the list of the ones I follow and noticed there was one less. I went to our chat and from there I tried to go to his/her page, but I couldn’t manage to do that (which was because the person blocked me, apparently). I just looked up the page in the search bar and there I saw the message... IT WAS AWFUL. Not only the message itself, but also (and especially) the TAGS. This person was literally talking about ME and didn’t care a thing about letting me know that. It was absolutely disgusting to read it all and I was all like: “WHAAAAAAAAAAT?????!!!!!!!!!!” This person HATES and SCOLDS me, because (he/she said) I don’t support the lgbt+ community. Because I’m homophobic. The person said I’m not being oppressed for being straight... Like, WOT?!

Let me start off by saying this: YES, I don’t support the lgbt+ community, because that’s MY choice and MY opinion. I’m thinking for myself and nobody’s gonna tell me what I must think of anything! Exactly THAT is what annoys me the most! They all want to impose their opinions to me, with violence if it has to. They can’t even respect my opinion, but they expect me to agree with and support THEIRS??? Besides, almost the entire world is already supporting it all. Gay pride here, trans pride there. Those flags are everywhere! They’ve even got a WHOLE MONTH of lgbt+ pride now! Countless people praise and glorify - if not, worship - them and they’re gonna talk about oppression??? Come on, man! If it was all to have the same rights as straight people, to be equally treated as them, it would’ve been lgbt+ NORMAL, not PRIDE.

But that’s another story. What I’m REALLY ANGRY about, is THIS:

I LITERALLY have written on my page that I’m NOT homophobic or something alike. LITERALLY! And I’m not! In fact, I know quite a few gay people and I never got into a fight with them because of it. I may not agree with you on several things, but if you wanna be gay, go ahead! That’s not my problem. You do what you do, but let me do what I wanna do as well. And don’t go bothering me, telling me I have to find this normal and that normal... However, now even THAT isn’t enough anymore! I must support it or some people will hate me, apparently! Anyway, does this person really think I’m BLIND or something? Or PLAIN STUPID maybe??? Well, guess what... I’M NOT. I already had SEEN posts of this person about lgbt+ pride. Did I scold him/her? No. Did I talked bad words about him/her behind his/her back? No. Did I sent private messages to him/her in which I expressed my hateful feelings??? NO!!! But what I DID do, was following this person, liking his/her content and saying many nice things about his/her art. And then you go talking about me like THAT? I 100% don’t get it. Like, seriously, WHAT THE???!!!

Of course, after reading the (very personal) message, I immediately changed my laptop’s lock screen and background. How I wish I could delete this person’s page from my internet...

I thought it would perhaps happen in the future. The far future. But it seems it’s already reality today: you can’t say you’re straight anymore! Because that’s THE ONLY THING I did. My username: not-gae-cuz-i-like-straight-wae. Do I say I hate homos? (Yes, here we go again.) No! My profile picture/the name I use for my drawings: straight weh/straight wayzzz. Do I say I hate homos? Again, no! The title: this blog is not geh. Do I say I hate homos? Once again... No! The banner: hetero pride. Do I say I hate homos??? NOOOOO!

I SAID HETERO PRIDE AND IT APPEARS THAT BECAME AN ILLEGAL THING TO SAY. WELL, I’VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN: I FIND IT QUITE NORMAL TO BE HETERO, BUT I’M HAPPY TO BE NORMAL.

You know, I actually COULD feel oppressed for being straight now, because this person basically discriminated me for merely saying it! (By the way, there was someone else like that and he/she started to spam long texts and pictures in our private chat, saying he/she was streaming it to Discord. I’m pretty sure that isn’t even allowed! Eventually, I had to block that fool.) I’ve seen so many usernames that included “gay”, “lesbian”, “bi”, “trans”, etcetera, but when I include “straight” in my username, I’ve committed a terrible sin, according to some people! These things are seriously happening, but I still can’t believe it...

Someone choosing to be gay may be none of my business, but I also never said a hard word about it. Just that I DON’T support it unlike almost everyone else these days. And why would you give a darn crap about what I think, huh??? There are MILLIONS of people to back you up!!! Often, I only need to turn my head to see another lgbt+ supporter. I can’t even watch TV anymore without flags turning up on the sides of the soccer field or sometimes even in the stands! So what the FRICK are you whining about??? (Maybe I’m talking to you specifically, maybe I’m not, but I’m pretty sure you’ll know if I do.)

At first, I was shocked by the message and I gotta be honest, I was really SAD too. It came so unexpected and definitely not on the right day (my birthday, I’ll have you know... no joke, I couldn’t even celebrate it due to my school tests, but then I was taking a break after some studying and I do had to see THAT message). I suppose it hurt me more than it should have. But well, the longer I think about it, the more happy I am you showed your true self. The HORRIBLE and RUDE person you are. The truth is one of the most important things in life and I’m glad to have found it out once again. The last thing I want to say, is that I’m not hateful towards those you claim I am hateful to, but now, I DO despise YOU.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-six: sweet mother love

Without a moment's hesitation, Marla called Zelda and told her what was happening, but the only problem was the three of them were told that they would arrive home in New York City at around three o'clock in the morning given they left East Midlands almost two minutes before midnight.

It felt so strange that she had established a relationship with Joey, and yet Sam had to fly back home with an empty seat next to her on the red eye. She nestled down in the seat by the window: for the first forty minutes of the flight, she gazed out there to the blackness that blanketed the British Isles. Every so often, a small cluster of golden lights emerged from the darkness like a flurry of fireflies, but then they disappeared away with the nightfall. Within time, she was met with the vast stretch of black nothing was the Atlantic Ocean as it loomed underneath them in every direction possible. Every so often, she took a glimpse before her to the faint slivers of clouds, lit up ever so faint despite by the darkness: far off to the north, she caught those glimmers of the rich neon green near the northern side of the ocean.

She thought of Cliff right then, and she wondered if one of the last things he got to see was in fact the northern lights. The aurora. Aurora Borealis. She hoped that Aurora and Emile would return home soon enough themselves.

Meanwhile, in the seat right in front of her, Marla's crown of cherry red hair shone under the soft dimmed lights on the ceiling overhead. She had gone through a few of the Polaroids she had taken over those few days and then she tucked them away into her hand bag. Sam hoped that the negative of Joey would stay within the camera because she couldn't bear the thought of Marla finding out that she had spied on him in Austin. If she had a scoff at a joke about Sam daydreaming about Alex, then surely she would have a fit at the thought of Sam gazing on at Joey. Belinda had sank down with her arms folded across her chest the whole entire trip; thus Sam had time to herself and only herself. Every so often, she took a glimpse to her left at the empty seat.

She thought about drawing something before she fell asleep, and yet she couldn't hardly bring herself to it.

She had had Joey's flesh right in her hands, right in her mouth as well. An itch she couldn't quite scratch and yet she felt the need to scratch it, and yet she couldn't bring herself to it, either. She closed her eyes and pictured Alex right next to her. He leaned back against the seat with his guitar case propped up right next to him and the plume of gray over his brow strong and bright against the soft lights overhead.

She kept her attention fixed on his side profile, on the prominent aquiline shape of his nose. His deep eyes were closed part of the way, and he sat there with his arms folded across his chest. His soft lips pouted a bit. Soft like a young boy and yet stoic and serious like an old man.

“Are you awake?” she asked him in a soft voice.

He raised those thick dark eyebrows for her, but he never opened his eyes. Those dark eyelashes formed a deep shadow around his brow. He seemed to fade in and out of the shadows around him.

“Alex?” she whispered to him. He shook his head. The mysterious man, especially once he opened his eyes for her.

“What do you think I should do?” she asked him. He gazed hard and deep into her. He parted those sensual lips as if he beckoned a kiss. She moved in closer to his face, to the deep shadows that surrounded his full face: he resembled to the full moon, complete with the gray plume at the crown of his head.

“Alex?” she whispered to him the softest of whispers. The shadows cleared up into the pale skin on his cheekbones and he returned to her. He opened his eyes, and his face was soft and gentle, like a little doll. More of a doll than Belinda.

“What should I do?” she breathed right into his ear.

“Please—don't unwrite me,” he begged to her, and he closed his eyes again. She then pressed her hands to either side of his face and she set her lips onto his.

“Please don't,” he begged to her again.

“I won't—I won't, I promise.” She kissed him again. He tasted like nothing, but she could taste him regardless of it. He tasted like the dream she never wanted to end.

“Please—Sam—” he begged to her a third time. She gazed right into his eyes, baffled by that. He always called her Samantha up to that point.

“Sam, wake up,” he said to her in a broken voice. His dark eyes seemed to grow darker with the incoming night. The man of her dreams, about to swallow her whole.

“Huh?” she asked him, puzzled.

“Sam?” And she opened her eyes, and Belinda hovered right above the vacant seat next to her: her long blonde locks dangled down from the side of her head much like Joey's jet black curls. She looked on at Sam with an expression on her face that said that she had not slept at all during the flight and yet it never bothered her for a second.

“Sam, we landed,” she told her in a voice otherwise broken by sleep. Indeed, Sam peered behind her to the bright amber airport lights right outside of the window. The tarmac outside was covered in a fine layer of rain water, and she knew that Zelda had to be sound asleep at that moment, given she offered to care for Genie while she and Marla were overseas. She then rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms over her head.

“Okay—okay—I'm awake—”

“You got your art stuff with you?” Marla asked her as she picked up her purse from the seat next to her.

“Right here, yeah—” Sam gathered her things and then she climbed out of the seat. The three of them filed down the narrow aisle to the front door of the plane and the terminal gate. The airport stood vacant but bright lit despite it being almost three o'clock in the morning. Almost three o'clock in the morning and yet Sam and Belinda both were wide awake.

“Want me to drive us back?” Belinda offered.

“If you could, Bel,” Marla told her with a rub of her eye. “I don't really feel like doing much of anything right now if I'm honest.”

The vast bright corridor stood still and silent with the middle of the night all the way to those big sliding front doors. A heavy dew was falling in the wake of a strong rain some time before then. Belinda took to the driver's seat while Sam slid in the passenger spot next to her and Marla lay down in the back seat. She had fallen asleep once they had reached the airport driveway.

“So what're you gonna do once we get back to your place?” Belinda asked her as they reached the first stoplight.

“Like what do you mean?”

“You gonna call your parents and tell 'em we got home safe and sound and in one piece?”

“Of course. They told me to call any time, so hell to the yes.” Sam then turned her head in her direction. “Why? What'd you have in mind?”

“Kinda hungry,” Belinda confessed as the light turned green. “That airline food just isn't very good.”

“No, it's not.”

“When we get back to Hell's Kitchen, I'll get you and me some pizza if you'd like.”

“Pizza at three o'clock morning sounds excellent.”

Within time, they reached their apartment in Hell's Kitchen overlooking the harbor. The windows of the building all beheld the darkness of the night, and Sam thought of that morning that she and Cliff had Mexican hot chocolate together. She even pictured Zelda and Louie on the corner up ahead of them as well.

Just so long as no one found out about them then she would keep their secret locked away under the proverbial lock and key forever.

Marla had a difficult time in climbing out of the back seat but she managed to climb out of there: the amber light from the street lamp next to them shone down on her cherry red hair such that she resembled to a literal sunrise there on the sidewalk. She rubbed her eyes as she unlocked the front door and propped it open for Sam and Belinda; she yawned and then she trudged over to the far corner of the room for the mail. It took her a few tries to slip the key into the hole but she finally did, and she took out a full stack of mail out of its hiding place.

“We'll go through this stuff tomorrow,” she told Sam as she shut the door and locked it. “I'm just too beat right now.”

“Makes sense,” Sam assured her with a shake of her head. The elevator brought them up to the third floor, and Marla almost fell asleep standing up right there next to Belinda. But they made their way back to the apartment and Sam offered to unlock the front door for her.

They were met with total darkness except for a small night light plugged into the bathroom: through the shadows, Sam could see that Zelda had stretched out on the couch, sound asleep and with the back of her hand pressed upon her brow. Genie had curled up right down by her feet, but she lifted her head once Sam and Marla had come into the room; indeed, once Marla switched on the lamp, she had pinched her eyes shut even more in adjustment to the sudden bright light.

Sam stooped over Zelda's face and set a hand on her shoulder.

“Zelda?”

She breathed heavy with sleep, and thus Sam shook her harder.

“Zelda?”

She stirred and groaned in her throat.

“Hey—hey—hey, Zelda—”

“Huh?” She rubbed her eyes and she looked at the three of them with bloodshot eyes.

“We're home,” Belinda told her.

“I can tell—wow.” She propped herself up on her elbows, but Genie never budged from her spot. “I didn't think you guys'd get home until much later.”

“We were told of our flight plan after the fact,” Marla told her, and she yawned a second time. She set the mail down on the kitchen table, and then she doubled back down the hall to her bedroom. Sam and Belinda then turned back to Zelda.

“Long flight?” she asked them as she ran her fingers through her short black hair.

“Eh, could've been worse,” Sam assured her.

“Yeah, you could've been flying out to California, too!”

“How'd she do?” Sam gestured to Genie, who finally stood up from her spot next to Zelda's feet and climbed up onto the arm: her black fur glowed in the light from the lamp.

“Excellent. She always ran up to the door and meowed at me whenever I came in. She always rubbered on me whenever I even so much as went to the bathroom. And last night, I decided that I better just come on over and spend the night with her. I think she gets lonely.”

“She's an outdoor cat,” Belinda told her.

“An outdoor cat who didn't really have a home, either,” Sam pointed out.

“She's a good cat, too,” Zelda continued as she reached over to pet her head. “The first night I came over, you know I sat with her and petted her, and she was purring the whole entire time, too. Just this full, loud, real content purr. And at one point, she looked up at me with real sleepy eyes and then she bumped her head right into my face.”

“Aw,” Sam tilted her head to the side at that.

“One time when Louie and I were together, and we went to a pet shop together, and there were these cats on one side of the room. We couldn't get a pet together because we were hurting for money, you know? But there was this one black cat who came up to me and rubbed on the grates of the cage and was just meowing at me the whole entire time. A couple more did, too. Louie told me it's because they know someone's true to themselves, but who knows really.”

Zelda swung her legs around the edge of the couch and stretched her arms over her head.

“What time is it, by the way?” she asked them with a yawn.

“Three in the morning,” Sam replied.

“Shit. Don't really feel like going home, though.”

“Don't blame ya,” Belinda told her, “are you hungry? I'm not tired at all and I was about to go up the block and get us something to eat.”

“Oh, yeah! The whole late night rituals that just follow anyone who's on tour. If I'm honest, that's a habit that's gonna follow me until I drop dead.”

Sam chuckled at that, but Belinda adjusted the strap on her purse and then she bowed back out of the door. Genie slunk up to the back of the couch and curled up on a spot right behind Zelda's head.

“I gotta call my parents,” Sam told her.

“At this hour? Sam, I knew you were nuts, but not like this.”

“They're three hours behind us,” she pointed out as she doubled back into the kitchen for the phone.

“Oh, I see.”

“My mom's bit of a night owl, too—if nothing, she'll be up.”

As she made her way into the kitchen, she thought back to when Cliff was alive. The three hour time difference and the fact that it was late at night. It all felt so familiar to her as she dialed her parents' number and held the receiver up to her ear. She peered over her shoulder at Zelda, who stood to her feet and ducked behind the dividing wall between the kitchen and the front room there. Genie stayed in her spot on the back of the couch as the phone rang once, twice, three times—

“Hello?” Esmé's voice crackled onto the other end.

“Hi, Mommy—”

“Oh, hi, Sam! I was just thinking about you.”

“Marla, Belinda, and I all just got home from England. Oh my god, it was beautiful there. One of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.”

“That's fantastic! Well, your father just went to bed, I'll have to tell him about it in the morning.”

“Marla got a couple of Polaroids, too, so we can share some good things with you, too.”

“Wonderful! Oh, my little girl went overseas the first time with her friends...”

Sam then thought about that journal in her desk all the while, the one with the drawing of the mysterious man from when she first started dreaming of him the two years before. Two years later, and she still hadn't finished that drawing. But at least now she could give him a face and a body.

It was three o'clock there in New York and therefore midnight back on the West Coast. It dawned on her right then. She was alone with her mother. Joey stayed in England to tour with Anthrax. No one else there with her in that kitchen.

“So, um—you also didn't answer my question, Mom,” she said with a clearing of her throat.

“What's that?” asked Esmé.

“When Joey and I were at the house a while back with Marla and at one point, you told me that he reminds you of Dad.”

“No, I said he reminds me of someone whom I went out with before your father entered the picture, Sam,” Esmé corrected her. “I was about to tell you that, too, but—I never got the right time to do so when the three of you were with us.”

“Well... I've got time right now,” she pointed out, to which she lowered her voice as Zelda returned to the couch in front of her.

“And I have little bit of time, too, even though it is late at the moment,” Esmé added, and then she fetched up a sigh. “I was ready to call it a night, too, when the phone rang. To be frank, I had a feeling you would ask me about this at some point, but it was only a matter of time. But—” A brief pause on her end.

“Okay. I met your father while we were still in high school but we never completely hit it off together by the time we both had graduated. We always took our time with each other, especially since—you know, he's a little bit younger than me, and thus I had to wait a little bit for him. A year's sabbatical between me and him, and even after that we took our time. But I was willing to take my time with him. My mom—your grandmother—always told me that love is patient. Love knows no boundaries and is willing to wait until Death herself comes. Love knows no distance, either. But what happened was I met another boy about my age during that sabbatical year, and he resembled almost exactly like Joey. Almost—he was a little bit taller and not as thin, either, like he had a little bit of weight on his body. But he had the long lush black curls down past his shoulders and with the dark brown skin as well.”

“Did you go out with him?” Sam asked him as she pressed her back to the wall.

“Oh, yeah. We went out many times while your father was in school, but I never told him about him. I couldn't, either. I never told either of them about each other. And the reason why is because it got ugly a few times by the time your father came into the picture and saw me with this other strange boy.” And as the words left her lips, Sam thought about Joey and also Alex. The fact Alex didn't like Joey and he didn't like the idea of Sam being around him all the while; the fact Joey didn't like Alex for whatever reason.

“So what'd you do?”

“Well, I remember I cut the boy loose a few times but he kept coming back, though. Just by a matter of fate—very strange, as if we were destined to be together. He always came back to me whenever I least expected him to, too.” Sam closed her eyes and she held the phone receiver away from her ear. It was almost as if her mother had just described her own personal life.

“—I remember the first time we were intimate, too,” she continued as Sam held the ear piece back to her own ear. “It was several years after we got together, which is why your father and I weren't your age when you were born. And coincidentally, it was the day before your father proposed to me. He just—lay down with me. We got down outside of the bathroom door—”

Sam rubbed the bridge of her nose as she thought of Aurora and her encounter with Mark Osegueda before the wedding.

“And then your father proposed within mere hours later,” she finished.

“But you—you actually—”

“Yeah. Yes.”

The silence fell over Sam's apartment and over on Esmé's end as well.

“Were you—” Sam started.

“I actually didn't find out I was pregnant until we started planning our wedding. But it was interesting because—I worked it backwards and I figured that you had been conceived right around that time.”

Sam raised her eyebrows and gaped at her even though Esmé couldn't see her. “So—as far as you and I both know,” she continued, that time in a low whisper of a voice, “Ruben Shelley may not even be your father. It would explain why the two of you always seem so different from one another. Why he was always doting to you, but there was this odd disconnect between the two of you. Like not how a father and a daughter should behave together.”

“Well—why didn't you say anything?” Sam sputtered as Zelda giggled at Genie: she craned her neck and saw Zelda played with her with a piece of string. Genie's golden eyes were big and wide but she moved about in lethargic fashion. Not in a mood to play at such a late hour.

“It's not really something that you talk about until you're ready, sweetie,” Esmé explained all the while. “And, well—you're twenty two now. You are old enough to understand these things now. Although I would have said so when you were in high school or when you planned on moving to New York, but I could never seem to find the right words, or the right time for that matter. There was just so much to do to get you prepared for life.”

She fell silent once more for another few seconds; the only sound came from Zelda's giggling and Genie's deep purr in the next room.

“If he comes on over with you again,” Esmé spoke again, “you have to be careful with him because Ruben—I mean, your father, might go bananas on him.”

“Why's that?” Sam asked her.

“Well, after the three of you left, he had quite the bone to pick with Joey. Like as soon as you left, he was quick to criticize him. I had to leave the room because it was bothering me some. I told him after the fact how it upset me because it seemed so unlike him to gossip like that, and so he apologized and he made up with me. But I can see it in his eyes whenever I mention you and him, and your friendship. Just so long as he's not eighteen, I don't think the reaction will be any worse than that.” Sam grimaced at the thought of her father meeting Alex at the sound of that.

“You guys are still just friends, right?” Esmé asked her, and Sam turned towards the wall so Zelda couldn't hear her.

“He asked me to be my boyfriend,” she whispered into the mouthpiece.

“Aw—what'd you say?”

“I said 'yes'.”

“Oh, my,” Esmé remarked in a breathy voice. “Two boyfriends already. But I'll make sure not to tell your father straight up yet. He has to get friendly with him first.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah.” Sam then stopped right in her tracks. “Well, how do you think he'd react to that little boyfriend announcement?”

“I'm not sure,” Esmé confessed with a clearing of her throat. “In fact, I'm not sure as to how to break that to him. At least not yet, either. Although I will say this, Sam.”

“What's that?”

“When children or any kind of innocence gets involved, that's when it becomes harrowing.”

It was as if she had described her social life and also read her own thoughts all the while. She pursed her lips together at that and then she sighed through her nose; she thought of Alex at the word “innocence.” Still just a boy, and Joey was, too.

“So—you have a good night, okay?” Esmé concluded. “I'll tell your father that you all got home in one piece. Don't stay up too late, okay? I've had jet lag before even just from traveling across the country, it's not something to trifle with.”

“Of course! Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, baby.”

They hung up at the same time and Sam let out a long low whistle. She returned to the living room for her things right as Zelda walked into the kitchen herself right then. She opened her overnight bag, and there was her journal nestled down in a safe spot against the heavy canvas. She opened it to those old pages, and there he was right before her.

When the morning came, she figured to run the edge of the graphite along the outline there on the paper. The mysterious man from her dreams now had more than a face, and it made sense to bring him more so out of her dreams.

“I have him now,” she whispered aloud to the paper. She tucked the journal back into its hiding place and she returned to the kitchen for a glass of water. Zelda stood over the kitchen table at the little stack of mail.

“Looks like you got something from school,” she told Sam.

“Oh?”

Zelda handed her the heavy white envelope and she was quick to open it. She remembered she hadn't received her grant as of yet.

“What's it say?” Zelda asked her.

“I got on a short list to head out on assignment as part of our senior project,” Sam announced. “I'll have to talk to Bill about it when school starts.” She then stopped in her tracks. “Hang on—I'm getting notified about our senior project now? I'm not even a junior yet.”

“Wonder if Marla got on the short list as well,” Zelda muttered.

“But she's already in her senior year, though,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah.” Zelda then knitted her eyebrows and frowned at that. “Yeah, I wonder what he's got in store for you. That's kinda strange.” She then moved a few more envelopes out of the way, and she gasped at what rested there at the bottom.

“A red envelope—sent from some guy named Eric Peterson in the Bay Area—” Sam picked it up and opened the back: the envelope felt heavier and thicker than the previous ones before then. She took out a small pressing, one that reminded her of when Spreading the Disease came out and she and Aurora were treated to the first pressings of that. She turned it over and there, written in neat penmanship in thick black ink—

“Live at Eindhoven!” she declared, and Zelda threw her arms around her. The buzzer went off behind them, and Sam knew she had to let Belinda in. Three o'clock in the morning or not, it couldn't have been a better time to celebrate things.

[ccatskies]

sciflash | chemistry class

rasa’s request

★━━━━━━━━

"Chemistry is the study of matter and energy and the interactions between them. This is also the definition for physics, by the way. Chemistry and physics are specializations of physical science."

There goes that voice. Flash resisted the urge to let a groan slip out and annoy the teacher who had just commenced the said class. He knew Chemistry, but today was awfully boring. No matter how much he despised a few subjects, it just wasn't his thing to barge in like a despicable roach and get on a teacher's nerves.

That would be his complimentary rascal of friend's field of expertise.

His eyes darted towards one of the tables in the third row, snorting as he suppressed a laugh. There's the adorable rascal.

Dash was, as usual, being a brat about things and getting her hand slapped from time to time by Shimmer, who had mentally declared that life was quite meaningless at this point, especially if you had to deal with Rainbow touching random potions for entertainment to bust everyone's asses six feet into the sky and out of the Chemistry Lab.

"Chemistry tends to focus on the properties of substances and the interactions between different types of matter, particularly reactions that involve electrons - ah, wait a second." Mr. Cranky interpolated, holding up a finger prior to walking off to the teacher who had been waiting for him at the door to deliver a message on the urgent change of routines.

Sentry suppressed a yawn, shyly glancing at his partner from the corner of his eye. In an instant, blood rushed up to his cheeks, coating it with adorable pink tints scattered across them like a pretty bunch of full bloomed roses. He brought his hands closer to his chest and leaned back on the chair, while the latter stood straight, fiddling with the bottle of a potion and going through her notes once again.

Sparkle's hair was in a messy bun, tied up with a rubber band while a big gold star laid on top of it. Few strands of her indigo hair gave her side profile astounding visuals for him just stare at. Her rosy cheeks had a special warmth, radiating a glow over her honey bronze skin. Her white laboratory coat only added onto her daunting look, as she maneuvered her finger tip through the pages of the Chemistry book.

She looked to the side once again, her alluring side profile snatching his view once again.

Fuck, he mused, one hand flying up to his face, as he cupped his right cheek to feel the warmth that generated from the abrupt blood rush.

Sure, it wasn't his first time looking at her, and definitely not the last.

More importantly, he wasn't sure how she did that to him like it was simply nothing, whereas it took him ages to have her blush in front of him. Of course, he knew she might've been hiding those blushes which burst out like balloons only when he took special measures but when it came down to him, she didn't need to even life a finger.

"Hey."

She was honestly so breathtaking - did no one tell her that?

"Huh, Flash?"

Breathtaking was an understatement too, he figured. She was just drop dead gorgeous, as if she was a beauty hailing from the heavens above - and Flash definitely didn't exaggerate that. He's seen Shimmer casually flirt with her, while Sparkle would laugh and playfully slap her shoulder.

Sunset's teeny tiny crush on the adorable bookworm justified the class Twi fell under. She's dated Timber, prior to ending the relationship on a good note. And all they had to say about his best friend was that she was so worth it.

"Flash!"

He broke out of the trance, blinking twice as he found his stinging eyes water, before squeezing them shut, a small drop traveling down his lashes, "h-huh. . .?"

"Your eyes!" Sparkle gasped, drawing herself closer to the teen boy, resting one of her warm hands on the surface of the table and the other on his left shoulder. She subconsciously brought herself to examine those pretty cornflowers, bearings her face towards his. Her breath fanned over the tip of his red nose, as she tilted her head, worry evident in her tone, "do they sting?"

"Wha-" he opened his eyes at the sound of her honey voice, a little taken aback as he registered the proximity, "ohh, fuuck."

She only made it worse for him, furrowing her brows at his words, as she dragged her lower lip under the edge of her teeth, "what? Does it sting too bad? You're tearing up, so - "

"N-not that!" He sputtered, biting his lip as soon as he stared up at her violet globes, "umm, I. . ."

"You what?"

"Your eyes." He immediately blurted, his cheeks betraying him once again, as he gazed into the most beautiful pair of eyes ever, astounded by the way they carried themselves. He swore that he could see the entire galaxy and at least a thousand constellations imprinted on those small captivating sultry orbs, reflecting back on his like the sun's rays.

She suppressed a giggle, breaking into a small smile, before she brought up her index up to his visage, cutely booping his nose, "my eyes? Ooh, are you flirting with me?"

His cheeks flushed into the shade of red - almost as red as the color of a scarlet Dahlia. Damn it, Century! Not now!

"Uh, no?"

Twilight snickered, not taking his response seriously, "is this the time to make jokes? I thought that's our thing only when classes are off."

"Wow," he scoffed, warm air purging through his nose, as he tilted his head to the side opposite to hers, "I'm mad that you don't take hints."

She raised a brow in amusement, letting a lighthearted laugh break through her system, "hint? What hint?"

"That I'm genuinely trying to compliment you for a reason."

She leaned back and flopped down onto the sit next to him, propping an elbow on the armrest as she cupped her cheek, "oh really?"

"You're pretty, am I not allowed to say that?" Flash rolled his eyes, groaning in exasperation, "fuck that, you're beautiful."

That had her blush. No matter how experienced she was at hiding those, she could not get do so for long.

Twilight smiled and bit her lip, vanquishing her urge to press him further but rather have him blurt out things (so that she could put them to use the next time she felt like embarrassing him). He had immediately caught onto the look on her face, growing a little shy at the indication.

"Why are you giving me that look?" Sentry huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "am I not allowed to call my best friend pretty?"

"U-uh. . ." she laughed a little nervously, her thin silver glasses sliding down a little down the bridge of her nose, as she concealed her cheeks from his view with her hands over them, "noooo."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, curving into an attractive grin as he reached out his arm to pull down her hands from her face, leaning in closer to catch a sight of her turn to be red, "awww, did I finally get you?"

She caught both of his wrists as they neared her, looking down on her lap, as she felt the burning sensation course through her. The boy only smiled, his insanely attractive dimples glowing from the corners of his wide smile, as he trailed his bigger hands down, smoothly intertwining his fingers with that of the Teacher's Pet.

She looked up at him holding back a few giggles, as she snorted, her honey cheeks tinted pink like cotton candy, "are you playing with me, Flash Century?"

His smile instantly dropped as he scoffed in disbelief, "did you really just say that, Twinkle Sprinkle?"

"Twinkle Sprinkle?" Twi's jaw hung low, as she maintained her posture, still having her fingers locked with his tan ones. Her face was a mess right now, red with embarrassment as well as flattery, showcasing the cute freckles splattered across the area surrounding her nose. "Oof, you're gonna get it. That's the childish nickname you gave years back. I thought we settled that you won't use it anymore!"

"I - " he laughs silently, as she frees her hands from him, standing back up and maneuvering her hands through several potions, desperately wanting to free herself from the situation.

Flash stood right next to her, his seraphic smile as heartwarming as ever, as he whispered next to her ear, warm breath hitting her skin like a steam and making her freeze on the spot, "cute little Twinkle Sprinkle."

She turned to face him, but was rather met with his chest - curse her shortness. She blushed profusely once again, prior to staring up at him, as she scoffed, "you're certainly hitting on me."

He moistened his lower lip, the same warmth radiating from his presence, as one hand slipped down to her waist, "of course, you pretty little thing."

"You are pretty," she immediately snapped back nonchalantly, her face as straight forward and genuine as ever.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The boy bit his lip, the shyness slipping out again. It took him a while to get her flustered but how the hell did she do it within a second?

Was this the Sparkle effect?

That made him feel magical and helpless? That made his heart beat like the thunderous sound of drums?

"You're staring again, Flash," Twi coughed, masking her flustered front, and replacing it with a terrible poker face.

"I again do that for hours actually." He removed his hand from her waist, dragging his lower lip under his teeth, as he shyly looked down on the table.

"Wow," She playfully punched his chest, letting out a laugh which rang through his ears like a serene and paradisiacal euphony, "you're. . . unbelievable, Sentry."

She pursed her lips into a thin line, prior to gazing at his features with a goofy grin, "unbelievably gorgeous, that is."

"Stop," he bit his lip, letting out a sigh in disbelief, "how can you just do that?"

"Do what?"

"Fluster me easily."

"I do that?"

"Yes."

She scrunched up her nose, smiling adorably, "well, then. Guess I found my new hobby!"

"What? No."

"Definitely."

"You're not - "

"You're the cutest."

"I - "

"Softest - "

"A little marshmallow. That's what I think of when I look at you. A sweet and cute little marshmallow." She snickered, "I can poke and kiss your squishy cheeks all day - "

"H-huh?" He had the cutest face on - with utter disbelief was etched on his features, while the pink blush never seemed to go away. If Flash could recall all of his shit talk with the tiny bookworm, he would swore that she never played the flirty card. It was either getting flustered or masking it.

Did he hear that right? From Twilight?

Twilight stepped back, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. She held back a boisterous laugh from breaking out and destroying her system as soon as she spotted her so-called friend's lips quiver, with the biggest flustered look on his face, screaming what just happened?

"Guess I won this time, Habibi."

━━━━━━━━━★

[fanficnewbie]

Sienna Weighs In P6

OPEN HEART: SECOND YEAR - CHAPTER SIX

(ETHAN x FEMALE MC)

MC is Dr. Francesca Houseman *This entry takes place between the visit to Leland Bloom’s house and the tests on his yacht. (This is a chapter by chapter series…)

Sienna cheers on Francesca for standing up to Ethan.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Chapter 1:  MC tells Sienna about her Ethan convo at Donahue’s. Chapter 2:  MC and Sienna discuss Ethan’s gym routine. Chapter 3:  MC questions how well she really knows Ethan. Chapter 4:  MC takes Elijah and Sienna to see Evelyn’s exhibit. Chapter 5:  Sienna talks MC through a panic attack over Ethan. Word Count: 1889 Rated: Teen

***

“To standing up for yourself!” Francesca and Sienna clinked their beer bottles and each took a healthy gulp before setting them back on the bar. 

Francesca turned and surveyed the Sunday night crowd at Donahue’s, it was only slightly busy. Old school hip hop played while a few patrons danced. Most were at tables littered with various drinks and engrossed in animated conversations with their friends and/or colleagues. 

She swiveled back on her barstool to Sienna who gave her a knowing smile. “It felt good didn’t it?”

Francesca grinned widely, “It felt soooo good! Almost as good as Baz & June coming to my defense on the way over to the Bloom Estate. Ethan’s been treating me like crap for weeks and it was nice to know that others noticed it too.”

Sienna nodded, “I’m not gonna say I told you so but…”

Francesca playfully pushed her, “Shut up.” She took another sip, “What did Ethan even say to you when he showed up yesterday morning?”

Sienna shrugged, “Nothing really. He looked pissed and it was obvious he was there to see you so beyond ‘hello’, there wasn’t much to say.”

Francesca toyed with her beer bottle, “It probably kills him that you know about us.”

Sienna took a sip, “Well that’s his deal not mine. You guys are both adults, I’m just tired of waiting for the man to come to his senses. It’s like watching Elijah and Phoebe all over again.”

Francesca groaned and chewed on her bottom lip before looking back up, “Hey, speaking of Elijah…”

Sienna held up her hand, “Jackie already told me and you guys should just drop it. You gave him your advice and now it’s up to him. We’re all going to deal with our interns the way we see fit and that just is not going to look the same for everybody.”

Francesca scowled, “Sothy can’t even do a basic blood draw, that’s not acceptable.”

Sienna grew sullen, “We all have our individual challenges to overcome.”

Taken aback at the sudden shift, Francesca studied her friend closely. The week before she had commended Sienna when she triumphantly shimmied into a pair of jeans from college, but now she realized that she was starting to look too thin, almost gaunt with darkening bags around her eyes. She touched her arm, “Hey, so many of these conversations are about me and my dumbass issues. But are you okay? You’ve been so tired lately and you’re still losing weight…”

Almost on cue, Sienna turned to her, her face instantly brightening, “No silly, I’m fine, I’m great. You brought me out for a celebratory drink so let’s celebrate!”

Francesca sighed and gently squeezed Sienna’s arm, “Listen, you know you can talk to me about anything without judgment right? I’m your friend and I’m here to help you through whatever. This doesn’t always have to be about me and I’m so sorry if it has been totally one-sided as of late.”

Sienna smiled, “Francesca I love our convos, and I love helping you, and I know I can come to you, and I promise, I’m fine. A-okay.” She patted Francesca’s hand reassuringly.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Sienna reached for her phone. “Hey, I haven’t checked Pictogram in like forever. Did it work? Did Dr. Ramsey like that photo you posted a few days ago? Oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot all about it.”

Francesca smiled smugly as Sienna unlocked her phone. Yes, Ethan had liked her photo. It was a stunner, one she had taken the Summer before she started at Edenbrook. Surprisingly, the whole thing had actually been Jackie’s idea…

***

“So hell hath frozen over and Ethan Ramsey has a Pictogram account!”

Francesca was sitting on the floor in their living room, her back against the couch with her laptop in her lap. Sienna was above her, sitting horizontally across the couch in the same position. She peered over Francesca’s shoulder, “Oh my god, you got him to post a half-naked photo of himself?!”

Jackie walked into the living room with her tablet, “Who’s half-naked?”

Sienna and Francesca both froze for a second before Francesca answered. “Uh, Dr. Ramsey. I helped him create a Pictogram account so he could search Gwyneth’s product history. His profile photo is from when he ran a triathlon so he’s in swim shorts. He only allowed me to use it because he figured nobody would ever see it.” 

Jackie sat down and leaned over Francesca to view the image, she raised her eyebrows, “Wow! Who knew he was hiding that six pack under his lab coat? Damn Francesca, I’m finally starting to see why you’re so into the guy.”

Jackie’s eyes met Francesca’s astonished gaze, she chuckled, “You really don’t think I’m that stupid do you?”

Francesca’s face reddened, “Please don’t tell me it’s that obvious?”

Jackie thought for a second, “Nah, I honestly think I may be the only one who’s caught on, besides Sienna of course. I mean, we live with you. I’m sure you’re fine at Edenbrook, I’ve never heard any rumors.”

Sienna nodded, “Francesca, you know I’d tell you if I ever heard anything. I mean some people are still jealous of your rapport with Dr. Ramsey but they all attribute it to your top intern spot and Banjeri save.”

Jackie shrugged and she typed on her tablet, “Accurate.”

Francesca visibly relaxed, “Okay well, I can live with that. Anyway, I was just telling Sienna that he has an account now and I think it’s kind of hilarious. I mean, he kept it private and I’m his only friend.”

Francesca suddenly turned to her friends, her voice earnest,”You guys cannot tell anyone about this account or picture. He’ll know immediately that it came from me. Promise you won’t tell.”

Sienna put her hand on Francesca’s shoulder, “I promise. You already know we can keep secrets hon.”

Jackie gave Francesca a mischievous smile, “Same, but only on one condition.”

Francesca paled, “Oh god, what?”

Jackie turned her screen around where she had pulled up Francesca’s Pictogram account, “You set a thirst trap.”

Sienna frowned, “What’s that?”

“No, no, no, no.” Francesca vehemently shook her head.

Jackie turned to Sienna, still smiling broadly, “It’s a sexy photo that you post to make your followers thirsty. In this case, to make one specific follower thirsty.”

“No, it’s obvious and desperate and…” the panic in Francesca’s voice started to mount.

Sienna cut her off, “I like it. Where do we find a photo?”

“Wait Sienna, what? No!” Francesca looked at them both incredulously, “How pathetic does that make me look? Less than two weeks after Ethan becomes my PG friend, I post some random, sexy photo? Come on, even he could see through that one.”

Jackie shrugged, “I’d say you’ve waited too damn long as it is!”

Francesca was at a loss for words as she stared down her two friends. She slowly realized that she had no choice if she wanted to keep Ethan’s account under dibs and sagged against the couch in defeat, “Fine. But only because I know you won’t find a photo worth posting anyway.”

Undeterred, Jackie opened a new browser window, “What photo storage account do you use and what’s the password?”

Francesca gave her the details as she stood up, “I can’t believe this is happening, I need a drink. I’ll be right back.”

Her friends didn’t even acknowledge her exit as they started scrolling through the hundreds of photos on her Google account. 

Several minutes she returned to their flabbergasted faces. “What? What’s wrong?”

Jackie turned her tablet around and Francesca’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit! I forgot all about that photo.”

Jackie shook her head in awe, “I didn’t even think you had it in you.”

Sienna giggled, “That my dears, is a bona-fide thirst trap.”

Francesca sat down and marveled at the photo, “I took that in Cancun after graduating from med school. I went with a group of friends and it was the perfect day on the beach, so we decided to be silly and take photos in our favorite “Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition” poses.”

Her mind started to change as she contemplated Ethan’s reaction to the photograph. “Hmmmm, I do look kinda hot huh?”

Jackie raised an eyebrow, “Kinda? No red-blooded, hetero man will be able to resist the allure, the pure sex of this picture. Dr. Ramsey among them.”

Francesca took a deep breath, “Post it.”

***

Sienna scrolled through the likes and comments, “Wow, is this the most popular post on your account?”

Francesca laughed, “I believe so. Even the friend who took it wanted me to tag her for credit.”

Sienna grinned as she came across Ethan’s red heart, “There it is.”

Francesca smirked, “Yup.” she leaned in, “And let me tell you the most infuriating part. I kept checking my phone to see if he had liked the photo. Nothing for two days. So, the next night I was up really late studying. I didn’t go to sleep until just after 1am, and I checked my phone before I dozed off, nothing. I woke up like three hours later to pee and guess who had liked my photo?”

Sienna’s eyes went wide, “Wait, in the middle of the night? He was on your account in the middle of the night!”

Francesca nodded, “And, and this was after the whole Gwyneth/Board thing. So at the same time he’s giving me the cold shoulder at work, he’s lurking on my account at home.”

Sienna shook her head in disbelief, “That man is so confused.”

Francesca rolled her eyes, “Whatever. That’s why I stripped down in front of him yesterday.”

“What?!” Sienna’s mouth hung open. 

Finishing the last of her beer, Francesca smiled, “I needed to kick him off his hypocritical high horse. So, after he barged into my room telling me I had three minutes to get ready on my day off, I called his bluff. I literally took off my underwear right in front of him. I mean, I turned my back to him but still, the look on his face was fucking priceless.”

Sienna turned to Francesca, put hands on her shoulders, and met her eyes, “You are officially my hero.”

Francesca smiled, “Well, that deserves another round.” She motioned to the bartender.

“Plus, I’m sure we’ll only be celebrating this victory tonight. Who knows how he’ll act towards me at work tomorrow, especially now that we’re in this absurd competition with Mass Kenmore.”

Sienna exhaled, “Yeah, you and Aurora going to be okay? I cannot take a repeat of the Landry experience.”

Francesca nodded, “I swear to you that we’ll be fine, We talked it out, made a pinky promise and everything. I’m more worried about Ethan and Tobias.”

Sienna frowned, “Aurora’s new boss?”

“Yeah, apparently he and Ethan have some bad blood,” Francesca shrugged, “I have no idea what it is about though.”

Sienna thanked the bartender as he placed fresh drinks in front of them and reached for hers, “Well that’s a good thing right? Now, he has somewhere else to direct his anger.”

Francesca thought for a moment, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Cheers to that!”

Sienna clinked her glass, “Hun, how many times do I have to tell you…I’m always right!”

Read the Ethan Pictogram Companion Piece here: Pictogram Pitfalls & Chapter 7:  Francesca confides in Sienna how she met Ethan’s mother. 

***

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. YOUR LIKES AND COMMENTS MEAN THE WORLD!

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[linmanwe11]

The Modeling Gig

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Words: 3,074 (IT’S WAY LONGER THAN PART ONE, I KNOW BUT I GOT CARRIED AWAY, I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE YOU STILL ENJOY IT!)

Warnings: SMUT! Nude drawing, swearing, and a bit of fluff ‘cause I just can’t help myself lmao

Summary: Months later after you and Lin met, and you’re coming up on semester final exams. For your Drawing 1 final, you have to draw someone nude. Lin happily agrees, and things seem to escalate from there...

A/N: Here you guys go! Part 2/2 of my short-story based off of Lin-Manuel’s tweet of being a nude model in college is here! I hope you guys enjoyed this little story, and I hope you’ll stick around for more stories to come. Also, FULL CREDIT goes to the person who drew the amazing pictures that were the inspiration for this story. You’ll see the pictures right below this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Much love, mis amores <3

-

Part 2

A few months later, you and Lin were hanging out at the same pizza place you had first gotten to know each other at. Even though nothing was official between the two of you, everyone that knew you could easily tell that you both had feelings for each other. You flirted A LOT, but for some reason, neither of you had acted on anything yet. You had fallen in love with him from the moment you saw him and you continue to fall for him with every second you spent with him, and you knew he felt the same, so the fact that nothing had been acted on between you two was frustrating, but you knew that everything would fall into place when the time was right. 

“So, Lin, I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“What’s up?"

“You know how I have to take Drawing classes since I’m a photography major?” “Uh huh…”

“Well, for our semester final, we have to draw someone and-“

“I know, I know, you want to draw me and all my beauty?” He said while turning his head up and to the side, smirking as he showed off his gorgeous side profile and jawline.

“Technically yes… But there’s a bit of a catch.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of catch?”

“I uh, have to… fuck, I’d have to draw you while nude…”

“Ohhh, so you REALLY want to draw me and ALL of my beauty, huh?”

“Oh shut the fuck up, Lin-Manuel, asking you was awkward enough!” You said while laughing, putting your face into one of your hands while shoving him with the other. He laughed with you, shifting slightly in the booth you two were sharing, moving closer to you, close enough to where your legs were firmly pressed against one another. 

“Seriously though, can you PLEASEEEE do this for me? It’s worth 75% of my grade, and I really don’t want to ask someone who I barely know or some random person in my class.”

“I gotchu, girl! I’m available at any time. When do you want to do it?”

“Please don’t use the phrase ‘do it’ while we’re talking about me drawing you naked.” You said, but you were actually more than fine with the thought of seeing Lin naked. You had seen him shirtless, of course, and you were blown away by his body, so you could only imagine what he was hiding underneath. You’d be lying if you said that you had never thought about and fantasized about seeing Lin naked and being with him intimately. Lin was just… so sexy in every way that you could ever imagine, and you knew that if you ever had the chance to be with him, you’d take it in a heartbeat.

“Anyway, you can meet me at my dorm Friday night around 7:30.”

“7:30, got it. See you then. I’ll make sure to look my best just for you.” He said with a wink, making you blush as you did everything to hide your excitement for Friday night.

———————————————————————

It was 7:28 when you heard a knock at your door. You have all of your supplies set up and a spot on your bed for Lin to lay. Lucky for you, you were one of the few freshmen who was able to get a single occupancy dorm, so that meant that you didn’t have a roommate to interrupt you and Lin. Checking yourself in the mirror, you made sure you looked at least as decent as you could in a pair of leggings and one of Lin’s hoodies.

“Oh wow, you’re two minutes early! That’s new.”

“Haha, very funny, [Y/N]. You’re just lucky that I agreed to this.”

“As if you would’ve said no!”

“Y’know what? You… Yeah, you’re right.”

“Alright, c’mon now, take off your clothes!” “Shit, take me to dinner first! I’m not THAT easy!” You rolled your eyes then sat down at your stool, your canvas sitting in front of you as you saw Lin begin to take off his shirt. Without realizing it, you were staring at him as he then began to take his sweatpants off, his socks following right after. He looked over at you and smirked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“You like what you see, [Y/N]?”

“I uh… Stop it! Just, take your underwear off and lay there on my bed.”

“Geez, so fucking bossy! I’ll do whatever you need me to do. Whatever you want.”

He removed his boxers, and if you weren’t attracted to Lin and his body before, you sure as hell were attracted to him now. You bit your lip, secretly you hoped, as you unapologetically eyed his impressive size, and you also smirked to yourself as you noticed that he was half hard, probably thinking the same thing as you. He laid himself down on your bed, and waited for you to tell him what to do.

“Alright so uh, it’s gonna be pretty simple, just put your hands across your chest and intertwine your fingers together… Yeah, like that. Now just close your eyes and lay there, don’t move from this position, and please don’t fall asleep on me, you have a really bad habit of doing that when he hang out at night.” You said while laughing, releasing a little bit of tension that was heavy in the room and space between you two as he laughed along with you. 

———————————————————————

About 30 minutes later, you were just about done with sketching him, and now you were going to move on to outline your art in red ink. Lin let out a loud, dramatic sigh, causing you to peak around your canvas and give him a glaring look.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh nothing…. Just laying here… Naked… Nothing to do…” He said as he sighed again.

“Calm down, I just finished sketching and I’m about to move on to outlining, and that won’t take very long.. Gosh, you theatre majors are so dramatic.”

“Well, duh. We kinda have to be, [Y/N]. Hence why it’s called ‘Drama’.”

“Ugh, just hush and let me finish, please.”

“Alright, alright.”

———————————————————————

“Aaaand… DONE!”

“Finally! After almost an hour and a half of just laying there, you’re done! Let me see!” “Uh… I don’t know, Lin… It’s not that great.” “Come on, [Y/N], you’re the most talented person I know, I’m sure it’s amazing!” “Okay okay, fine. Here.”

You scooted over so he could sit next to you on your stool, a towel now wrapped around his naked waist. When he looked at your drawing of him, his jaw dropped in amazement. Lin usually didn’t like having pictures drawn of him, but the way you captured his features just made him love your work so much more. Not only that, but the way you were so concentrated on your work made him fall even harder for you. You were so concentrated while you were drawing him that you didn’t even notice the loving look he was giving you while you were working, he adored that look on your face. 

“[Y/N]… This is… holy shit, it’s amazing!”

“Really?” “Yes! It’s so fucking good! You’re definitely getting an A on that final.”

You smiled then threw your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. It was such a relief to have your work done and appreciated by someone, especially by Lin because his opinion meant the world to you, especially when it came to your pictures and drawings. Slowly, you both pulled away, but he left his hands to rest on the small of your back, and you rested your hands on his shoulders as you both looked into each others eyes. Suddenly, the air became thick, electric, heavy, between the two of you, and you both knew that now was the time to make a move. 

Lin let his eyes flick down to your lips then back up to your eyes, and you noticed which made your heart skip a beat. Without thinking, he leaned forward and finally kissed you, and you felt like you could finally breathe. You moved your hands up and cradled his face between your hands before you let your fingers run through his short, soft hair. Slowly, Lin let his hands move to your breasts, squeezing gently, making you gasp against his lips before you pulled away, not meaning to, but you wanted to make sure that you both wanted this.

“Lin, I…”

“I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I got a little carried away, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I’ll just get dressed and leave-“

“No… I wasn’t going to ask you to stop. I was just wanting to make sure that you really want this. That you really want me and that you’re not just doing this for fun.”

“[Y/N]… You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. Not even like this, just in every way. I fell in love with you the moment I saw you. I’ve never told you this, but that day in the lecture hall, the seat next to you wasn’t the last one open.”

“What do you mean?” “Someone was on their way up to sit next to you, but I begged them to let me sit there. As soon as I saw you, I fell in love, and I usually don’t believe in love at first sight, but then I saw you, and all of that changed. Then, I got to know you and your beautiful soul and personality and I just… Fuck, I love you, [Y/N]. I love every single part of you, and I fall in love with you even more each time I’m with you. I promise you, I’m not just doing this for shits and giggles, I want you.”

You smiled then pulled him back into another kiss, this one being much more heated than the first as he opened his mouth, his tongue nudging against your lips. Damn, he’s such a good kisser, you thought to yourself as you opened your mouth to him. He moved his hands back to the front of the hoodie you were wearing before he reached down and removed it, throwing it to the other side of your room. Pulling you against him, you let out a small moan at the feeling of skin-on-skin contact, wanting nothing more than for him to touch you in your most intimate places. 

Running your hands over his chest, you made your way down and began palming him through the towel he was still wearing. He broke the kiss, gasping as he felt your hand make its way under the towel, touching and stroking him slowly, bringing him to full arousal in a matter of seconds. Unable to handle it any longer, he picked you up, causing the towel to fall on the floor, and put you on your bed, stripping away the remaining amounts of clothes that you were wearing. He was on top of you now, one leg between yours as his hand hovered over your pussy which was dripping wet.

“L-Lin, please.”

“What do you want, baby? What do you need me to do for you?”

“Touch me, Lin-Manuel , please.”

“As you wish, mi amor.”

Slowly, you felt his finger swipe through your wetness and up to your clit where he began rubbing in circles, making your breathing become labored. You bit your lip, not wanting to let your neighbors hear what Lin was doing to you, but Lin didn’t seem to mind.

“Let me hear you, [Y/N]. I want to hear how good I make you feel.”

You let your mouth fall open and you gasped as Lin pushed one, and then two fingers into you, starting off by pumping slowly, then getting faster and faster as your moans increased in volume. When he hit your g-spot, you felt like you could see stars as your back arched off of the bed, your legs clamping themselves around his hand and he kept going. To add to your pleasure, he began kissing at your neck, sucking at just the right spot and then kissing you on your lips, swallowing your moans. He bit your lip at your orgasm approached closer and closer before your legs were shaking, you couldn’t hold back.

“Oh, fuck, Lin! I’m, fuck, I’m gonna c-cum!” “Cum for me, baby. Let go for me.”

Finally, you came hard. Probably the hardest you had ever came before as Lin let you ride out your high, helping you calm down by gently pressing his lips against yours. You were laid there, panting against him as you regained your composure as Lin helped you by gently kissing your neck and your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth, sucking on it then releasing it. It was the hottest thing you had ever seen. LIN was the hotting thing you had ever seen, and you couldn’t quite believe your luck.

“You okay there, love?” Lin asked, slightly amused but also confident at the fact that he was able to render you completely helpless by the tip of his fingers.

“Y-Yeah, that was just… Holy shit, that was so good. I’ve never cum that hard before. Seriously, NEVER.”

“Well, I’m glad I was able to do that for you, but it’s my turn now.” 

“I uh, don’t have any condoms…”

“Oh, right! Hold up a second.”

He jumped out of bed and made his way over to where his pants were. Confused, you look at him for a second before he triumphantly pulled a condom out of the pocket of his sweatpants. The very thought of what you were about to do made your heart jump, and you knew you were more than ready for him.

“So, you just carry condoms with you in your pockets?” “No, I don’t, but I had a good feeling about tonight, and based on the way you were looking at me while I was getting undressed earlier, I’m glad to say that I was right!” “You’re so fucking cocky.”

“You wanna find out?” You laughed at his cheesy innuendo then pulled him back on top of you after he put the condom on. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, [Y/N]… You want that, baby?”

“Fuck, yes Lin.”

Reaching down between your bodies, you took his hard cock in your hand, stroking him a few times because, after wanting him for so long, you just wanted to feel him. He smirked down at you before moving your hand, trapping both of them between one of his as he pinned your arms above your head, his other hand grasping onto himself as he positioned himself at your entrance. Slowly, he slid into you, and you gasped as you felt him fill you up completely, feeling a slight bit of pain as he was inside of you all the way.

“[Y/N], are you okay?” He asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made your heart flutter. You could already tell that Lin was a passionate lover in bed, and could probably get really worked up, but no matter what, he would always make sure you were alright, and that made you love him even more. 

“I’m perfect, Lin-Manuel.”

Lin smiled at you before his face and eyes morphed back into their lustful state as he began to move. You could feel every inch of him moving inside of you, and you had never felt this good before in your life. Your fingers trailed down his strong, muscular back, leaving red trails in their wake before you held onto his shoulders for stability. Your moans filled the room, and hearing that only motivated him to give you and himself more of what you both needed.

You felt so connected to him, more than just in a physical way, but emotionally too. Being with him like this was so amazing, and you didn’t want to share this intimacy with anyone else but Lin. As he began to move faster, you started to roll your hips against him, meeting his thrusts which caused his pelvis to bump your clit in the process, making you see stars as the tip of his dick simultaneously hit your g-spot. Your back arched off of the bed, and your chest met his, your nipples rubbing against his chest as your release grew closer and closer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Lin! Fuck me, I’m gonna- holy shit, Lin-Manuel, I’m- Oh shhhit!”

“Yeah, that’s it baby, cum for me. Fuck, yes, mi amor, cum all over my cock. Goddamn, baby, you’re so fucking tight, and you feel so good! Holy shit, cum for me-“

In a split second, you came even harder than the first time, your walls clenching around Lin’s dick as he kept fucking you through your orgasm. The feeling of you cumming all over him made him reach his own release as his seed filled the condom as he came with a strangled groan, his hips stuttering, sweat covering both of your bodies as you breathed against each other. Running your fingers through his hair, you kissed his temple, his cheek, and then his lips, both of you smiling into the gentle make out session, his lips moving perfectly with yours. After a minute, Lin stood up and threw the condom away as you cuddled underneath the sheets, leaving an open spot for him to join you. 

“Fuck, [Y/N], that was so fucking amazing.”

“It really was… I can’t believe it took both of us this long to admit our feelings for one another!” “I know, I can’t believe it either, but I’m so glad you asked me to be your model… It would’ve been weird if you asked someone else.”

You both laughed then looked into each other’s eyes. There they were, those big brown eyes that you could get lost in forever. They were yours, Lin was yours and you were his. Smiling, he placed his hand against your cheek and leaned in to kiss you once more before he pulled you against his body where you laid your head on his chest, listening to the gentle sound of his heartbeat. That sound was now your favorite thing to fall asleep to.

“I love you so much, [Y/N].”

“I love you too, Lin-Manuel. Thanks for begging whoever was going to sit next to me to let you sit there instead. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t met you. I love you.”

“Te quiero mucho, mi amor. Buenas noches y dulce sueños.” He said before he kissed the top of your head once more, then drifted off into a deep sleep, the last thing being on both of your minds was each other.

END

Part 1

[cyn-00]

Moreid one shot, 6 - "way past that"

Season 7, episode 20 "The company" (the one where Derek finally finds his cousin Cindi after years she had been missing but her family had no proof of her death. At the very end, when Derek, his sister Sarah, his aunt, Cindi and her son finally gather and hug)

We love some unrequested long ass but hopefully not boring fic. Basically a follow-up to the episode, definitely not one of my best works...

Also bad news: I've just started season 8 which is the one where Reid has that thing going on with Maeve, so A) I'm gonna be depressed and frustrated for a whole ass season + B) there probably won't be any Moreid inspo here and there so I'm sorry but I probably won't write fics during this one :( I could still do some throwbacks to older seasons though, I'll see what my big (?) creative (?) brain can do

Read it on AO3

-------------

Reid was watching the scene through the blinds of the room him and the rest of the team were, chatting and finally relaxing while reordering their things, ready to go home.

He could clearly see, even from far away, that Morgan had teary eyes - but they weren't tears of sadness, nor anger. They were ones of joy and relief. Derek's aunt was hugging Cindi's kid, Derek was talking with his sister Sarah.

The young genius was totally immersed. He was so moved and happy that Morgan could finally let go of all the rage and uncomfort he had been burying inside for the past days - to be fair, those feelings had been there for months - he didn't even realize he was lopsidedly smiling to himself, like an idiot.

Everyone was getting out of the room with their hands full of stuff.

"You better pick your things up cause I wanna go home and sleep, and I'm pretty sure everyone agrees with me when I say that we won't regret leaving you here..." Emily said to him, jokingly.

"Yes ma'am, we do agree." Rossi responded.

"Mh mh." Reid mumbled, without shifting his eyes an inch from the view, barely hearing what the others were saying.

JJ sighed, resigned to the fact that he would probably be in there for another 30 minutes. "Alright. Bye Spence!"

-

The room was now empty. Reid saw Morgan looking at the team leaving, like he was awakened and brought back to the real world.

His eyes finally met Spencer's for just a split second, and in that moment Spencer immediately stopped looking, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been doing.

He coughed and clumsily stood up from the desk he was sitting on, starting to pick up his stuff with no specific order. Just to make it look like he had actually been doing something for the past 10 minutes, instead of watching Morgan like it was the most entertaining thing ever - it kinda was, to him. No matter the context.

Derek knew he had been looking all along. He simply didn't wanna look back at him, in the attempt to avoid drawing his sister's attention to Spencer as well.

Mission failed. 

"What you looking at?" Sarah asked after a few seconds of him being clearly distracted while she was talking.

Derek's eyes shifted back to her, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth like he had something to say; but no valid excuse came out.

His sister turned around and saw it. She saw what had been distracting him for the past 5 minutes: Doctor Spencer Reid, sorting out his stuff in the other room. Now that the others had gone away leaving the doctor alone in there, there was nothing convincing enough Derek could say to dissuade her from gathering that he was looking at the pretty boy in the other room.

Reid looked up at the two for a second and waved at them, wearing his usual cute-kinda-awkward smile.

Sarah waved back, giggling at how geeky he was. "So...you gonna invite the guy over to dinner or something? Ever? In your lifetime?"

Derek sighed, still looking at Spencer. "I wish. It's not up to me, I don't think he'd be comfortable with that."

"C'mon why not? We've loved him since day one just like you did." she paused, recalling a memory she wasn't sure if sharing with her brother. She quickly decided on doing so.

"As a matter of fact, Desirée was the one who predicted something was up with you two just by the way you talked about him." she smirked.

"...I always talk about every member of my team. I talk about Penelope a lot. And Emily." Derek answered, frowning, like he took what his sister said as an accuse of some sort.

"Yeah, but that's different..." Sarah pointed out.

Derek didn't answer: she wasn't the first person telling him that he'd always talked about Spencer in a "different" way, since the beginning, when he hadn't even figured out his feelings for him yet. He'd come to the conclusion that he probably did that without even noticing.

There were a few seconds of silence - enough for her to notice that Derek had got back to looking at Spencer. She affectionately put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Go."

"I-I'm sorry sis, he's been trying to ignore me for the past two days on purpose cause I've been nervous all the time and I've been acting like a dick, honestly-"

"I know, I know, I imagined that. You owe him. We're fine." she gave him a kiss on the cheek and headed closer to her aunt and cousin, to intrude their conversation and give Derek a reason not to feel guilty about leaving her like that.

-

Morgan entered the room. Reid heard his footsteps but didn't - couldn't - turn around: he was stretching over the table to try and reach a pile of documents. He managed to pick it up and started to browse through the papers distractedly, while turning around to face him.

"You know, I was thinking that maybe-" He STARTED talking.

Derek cupped his boyfriend's face in his hands and kissed him impulsively, making Spencer breathe out a faint moan of surprise and chaotically put the files back on the desk right behind him. It took all of his physical strength and the remaining amount of attention he wasn't paying to that hot kiss not to just drop the files on the floor.

He wrapped his arms around Derek's waist and leaned closer. Without even thinking of how inappropriate that must have looked, his hands snaked under the other's t-shirt, lightly stroking his back.

The moment he felt Spencer's soft touch on his skin, Derek got goosebumps all over his body. He put a hand on the back of Reid's head, involuntarily messing his hair up, and started leaving quick kisses on his jaw and behind his ear. He knew that was a huge turn-on for him. Exactly the same way Spencer knew how huge of a turn-on was for Derek when he ran his fingers up and down his back - or abs; oh, the abs.

Spencer gasped, keeping his eyes shut. In the attempt of trying to stay on his feet, he put his hands behind him, trying to hold himself onto the edge of the desk.

Wrong move: his hands knocked off the pile of papers, spreading them all over the table and the floor. That was what - maybe luckily - interrupted the dynamic, which was clearly proceeding toward a not-suited-for-work direction.

Derek stopped teasing Spencer and rested his forehead on his, breathing heavily.

"...shit " Spencer whispered, chuckling.

"Maybe I should've closed the door." Derek said, shaking his head.

"And the blinds." Spencer added, nodding his chin toward Sarah, who immediately jerked her face the other way because she'd been caught peeking at them with the corner of her eye, from the lobby of the police dept. Derek snorted and shook his head - again.

Spencer sat on the desk, letting his feet wiggle 10 inches from the floor; still absent-mindedly looking at Derek's family through the blinds. He was sure that they had to get moving, but also didn't want one of the only moments of intimacy the two got during the day to end; even though said "moment of intimacy" eventually turned out to be Spencer yawning every 30 seconds, approximately.

Derek silently stared tilt-headed at his boyfriend with a smile printed on his face, for what seemed like an eternity, laying his eyes on everything they could reach: his gorgeous side profile; his slightly furrowed eyebrows; the golden curls that almost reached his shoulders; that absolutely nonsensical but all the same weirdly charming way he used to wear his wristwatch too loose over the unbuttoned cuff of his shirt, instead of beneath it like normal people; the collar of his wrinkled pinstripe button-down, too large to adhere properly to his slim neck. Derek rested his hand on the side of that neck of his, half entangled in his hair, caressing the very edge of his cutting jawline with a thumb.

"You know," Morgan interrupted the silence and Reid finally looked up at him with his big, brown eyes.

"Sarah asked me if I was gonna invite you to dinner one day."

Spencer smiled awkwardly and raised his brows, surprised "She did?". Derek nodded.

"Wow- I'm- I'm flattered..." he stuttered in response, half-heartedly.

"...but?" Derek got serious.

"There's no 'but', it's just- you know. I thought your family saw me as the weird and awkward kid, just like...well, everyone, really- which is totally true by the way I don't mean to play the victim or anything."

Derek laughed. "Yes, they do."

Reid frowned. Was there something he wasn't getting?

"But they love you like that."

Spencer looked away, smiling shyly. Derek cupped his jaw in one hand to make their looks meet again - he understood that Spencer loved it when he took his face like that by how he immediately gave him those eyes, every time. The adorable eyes. It worked like magic.

He bent over to whisper in his ear.

"I love you like that."

Spencer was already closing his eyes and melting in Derek's warmth, expecting one of his kisses. But Morgan wanted to tease him a little bit, so he backed away from him and walked toward the door with a smirk on his face, leaving there both Reid AND the mess of files they dropped on the floor.

"Wait!" Spencer squeaked when Derek was already on the threshold of the door.

"Nuh-huh pretty boy I ain't gonna help you with that mess. Besides: it's your fault, it's not like I pushed you or anything" he said jokingly, still wearing that smirk that made Spencer's whole body blush.

"Yeah- no, actually, it's not about that, though you could help me since we're already late and it IS kind of your fault- frankly though, it's totally your fault, what did you expect me to do? You were utterly over me, physically-"

"Baby. I was joking. What was it?" Derek interrupted the flood of words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah sorry, uhm" he paused, his brain trying to start working again after crashing for a second at the word "baby".

He kept his eyes firm on Derek's face with his mouth open - though no words came out at all - fidgeting with his hands like he always did, not knowing what it meant to stay still. Derek raised his brows in a way that meant: "I'm listening...?".

"Why- why aren't you mad?" Spencer finally said, choosing the simplest and less mistakable way to say it.

Derek frowned. "Mad? At you? For wha- wait, did you do something I should be mad about?"

"Nonono not like that it's just, I haven't really talked to you in the past few days. And I should have been there for you with all that was going on."

"You WERE there. Just like anybody else."

"Exactly, and I should have done something more, instead I acted just like anybody else on the team, but I'm not anybody else otherwise this- us, we wouldn't make sense... right?" he waited hopeful for his boyfriend's confirmation, but his expression remained the same. "So I thought you would feel betrayed in some way, I don't know if you do feel like that and you're not telling me to not make me feel...guilty, but- but anyway I'm sorry. I'm really sorry that I acted like I don't have any responsibility to you."

"Kid" Derek said softly. "we're way past the whole 'I'm here for you if you wanna talk' thing. I know that you are, and I chose not to talk about it more than we were already doing on the job. We both bear a responsibility to each other and we always both respect that" he paused. "You worked on the case, you gave me space, you hugged me when I needed a hug. That's all that matters to me and you know it inside that big brain of yours."

Reid looked like he hadn't even heard half of the talk, gazing at him with heart eyes.

Morgan paused again, expecting some sort of answer, which never came. "What? One minute you're all sorry and the next you're looking at me like- like that." he raised his hand to point toward the face he was making. "What's up with you?" he asked jokingly after a few seconds of silence.

"So we're way past that uh?" Reid quoted him timidly, like he had to make it official.

"Waaay past that." Morgan answered with an eye-roll, playing along, knowing where that was going.

"So we're...serious. Aren't we?" he questioned rhetorically, biting his lip and looking down to fake-concentrate on fiddling with the hem of his sweater vest.

"Yes, genius boy, we're serious."

Spencer nodded shortly and turned around to hide his smile; finally deciding to - once again: clumsily - pick up the files and randomly stuff some of them in his satchel, while he kept the others in his hand. If he had done that with any criteria at all, they would have all fit in the bag: that was what Derek was thinking, looking at his messy boyfriend try to un-mess things up; wondering if maybe he really should've considered offering a hand.

-

They both finally got out of the room, 20 minutes later, but Derek's family was still there. He stopped walking and grabbed Spencer's arm to make him do the same.

"Imma wait for Hotch, I'll catch up in a minute."

"Alright" Spencer nodded.

"Yeah wait, first I gotta ask you one last thing..."

"...sure" Spencer squinted his eyes, pronouncing the word slowly. Derek looked a teeny tiny bit nervous, which was unusual, to say the least.

"Does your mom know? About...us? About me ?"

Spencer grinned knowingly. "Why are you even asking, you KNOW that I tell her everything."

"...so...? "

"So I've been telling her about you since the second I met you." he paused, giving him his sweet smile. "She knew where this was going before I did." By 'this' he clearly meant them.

Derek looked down at his feet, biting his bottom lip in the attempt to contain a chuckle.

Spencer wanted to kiss him. But they were in the main lobby, there was Sarah not so far: he didn't know if Derek would be okay with it.

He hesitated a second to look around and then gave him a quick peck at the corner of his lips, so quick nobody noticed. But as soon as he pulled away a little, Derek cupped his face and kissed him way deeper. In that moment, Reid understood that Morgan really didn't care about showing everyone that they were a thing. Not even his family. He was more than just not ashamed of it - he was proud.

Spencer could have gone hours kissing like that, but he stopped. "Alright- you're gonna make me drop the files again" he mumbled breathily against his lips, smiling.

Derek laughed and shook his head, finally letting Spencer go and following him with his gaze as he walked away.

-

He looked over to his sister: she was smirking. She had been looking at them all along. Nice.

Derek scratched the back of his neck and turned around, already regretting kissing Spencer in front of them: he could only imagine the amount of embarrassing questions expecting him at the next family dinner. To which he would also have to take Spencer with, at that point.

Hotch finally got out of an office where he had been talking with God knows who about God knows what for the whole time Morgan was with Reid. He always had to do the boring, bureaucratic stuff.

"Morgan. Have you been waiting for me this whole time?" he asked, in the most ironic tone he could pull off - which wasn't THAT clearly ironic.

"Yeah- no, actually, I was- nevermind. We good to go?"

"I was kidding. I know you were talking to Reid."

Derek nodded, looking at his feet, like talking to Reid was something to keep secret. Problem is, 'talking' wasn't all they'd been doing in the other room for 20 minutes.

Hotch frowned: he sensed something was wrong - mistakenly. "Is everything alright with you two?"

"...why are you asking? Should I know something?" Derek returned the frown. Apparently, that day people thought it was real fun to say confusing things.

Hotch sighed. "Reid wanted to apologize to you for a thing. He only hinted it to me but I can guess what he was talking about."

Derek breathed out, relieved. "Yeah. There was no need to apologize but you know how he's done. We're good." he answered, trying to hide a smile that said: we're REAL good.

"Thank God. When something is wrong between you two it's a mess." Hotch smirked with an eyebrow raised, using that same "ironic" tone from earlier, which came off as such only to the team because they knew him enough to resign to the fact that that was the most ironic it could ever get.

Derek snorted, smiling, without asking for an explanation: he knew exactly that the way the whole team functioned on the job got fucked up big time when there was tension between Spencer and him.

Hotch casually patted his shoulder. "Alright, let's get on the jet already. They're all probably asleep by now."

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 12

Warnings: a couple bad words, sloppy editing

Word count: 1.5k (sorry for the short chapter)

A/N: Okay here we go again! Wow I’ve been drawing this story out for a while huh. Don’t worry, your patience will soon be rewarded ;) As always, let me know what you think!

“So, Barnes, you gonna introduce me to your girlfriend?”

Bucky scowled over his shoulder at Tony, wishing he could clock him one right on his bearded jaw.

“She’s not my -” His eyes slid sideways to Y/N, shifting on her feet and looking uncomfortable. “Y/N, meet Tony Stark. Stark, Y/N.”

She took a step forward and held out her hand, meeting Tony’s in a firm grip. He nodded. His soft brown eyes gave her a quick once-over behind the tinted frames perched on his nose.

“Nice to meet you,” Tony sighed. “Hope you’re alright after that little incident?”

“I’m fine,” she assured him, shrugging. “A little bruised, maybe - and confused as hell, but fine.” Turning to Bucky, she frowned a little. “You’re okay, Buck? Rumlow, I thought he-”

“It’s fine - I’m alright,” he soothed. He lifted his shirt a little to show her the bandages. “They patched me up pretty quick, just surface wounds. Nothing major.”

She nodded, staying quiet, her eyes fixed on the bandages, on the scar from his stab wound that she sewed up in her bathroom. Her fingers brushed over it lightly, Bucky’s hand coming up to hold hers.

“Everything’s okay. We’re okay,” he whispered.

He tangled his fingers with hers and tried to believe it.

**********

Tony’s thumb swiped quickly through his phone and he lifted it up to his ear. He listened it ring twice before the other end picked up.

“Tony?”

“Rogers. Where are you?”

“I’m outside the precinct. Is Bucky-”

“Barnes is fine. Listen,” Tony pursed his lips. “We’re trying to still maintain a low profile for you guys out here, alright? So don’t come in waving your badge.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. See you in a few.”

He tapped the ‘End Call’ button and dropped his phone back in his jacket pocket. Across the room, Barnes and his doctor friend were sitting side by side on a bench, talking in hushed tones. Well - Bucky was talking; she seemed to be listening, a small frown drawing down the corners of her lips. For all that he and Barnes didn’t get along, Tony did not envy him this moment.

He glances down when his phone buzzes again, seeing a text from Rhodey with a single thumbs-up emoji. From the lockscreen, Pepper’s smile beamed up at him - the best picture they’d ever taken together, a selfie in front of last year’s Christmas tree.

He put the phone back in his pocket as he saw Rogers and Wilson walk in the front door.

**********

It was mid-afternoon before she woke up to the sound of her door creaking open.

With a groan, Y/N rolled over and lifted one eyelid, noting Natasha’s hair poking through the doorway. She closed her eyes again.

“Whattimeisit” she mumbled, face half-smushed in the pillow.

“Almost 3.” Nat took the spoken words as an invitation and fully entered the room. She was holding a mug of steaming coffee, and carefully made her way to the side of the bed, placing the mug on the nightstand.

“Mm.” She tried lifting both eyelids - blinked at the afternoon sunlight and closed them again for the moment. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem,” Nat dropped down in a chair by the bed. “You guys had a long night, I know.”

Y/N nodded against the pillow but didn’t say anything, successfully managing to open her eyes this time. She saw Nat’s hair was up in a ponytail; she was wearing leggings and a grey hoodie, the sleeves rolled up a little at the wrists. It was the softest Y/N had ever seen her.

Nat’s eyes traced over her face, cutting and sharp even in the softly lit room. There were little strands coming loose from her ponytail curling around her face. She shifted in her chair, crossed one leg over the other and took a deep breath.

“How much did they tell you about what went on last night?” Nat finally asked, her mouth pressed in a wary line.

Y/N didn’t answer at first, dragging herself to sit up in bed and reaching for the coffee. Black, just the way she liked it.

“Not much.” Her voice scratched a little, and she sipped at the coffee. “Hardly anything, actually.”

“What did Bucky say?” Natasha pressed. Y/N shook her head.

“Just...that Rumlow was the leader of the gang that vandalized my house, Hydra or whatever they’re called.” She frowned. “And that the police weren’t charging him because he shot Rumlow in self-defense.”

“That’s all.”

“Yep.”

Nat made a face, pursing her lips and leaning back in her chair slightly. She turned to look out the window and crossed her arms.

“Here’s the thing,” she sighed. “I like you. A lot.”

“Um, thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Her mouth quirked a little in one corner but then pulled back down. “Which is why I’m telling you...that I think you should leave.”

Y/N blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

Nat turned and faced her fully.

“I think you should go. Move back to the city, transfer to another clinic.” Her face was like a statue. “Get back to your real life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“None of this is what it seems. Not even him.” Nat raised a single red eyebrow. “You don’t know him, not really. And by the time it all comes out, it could be too late for you.”

“Natasha...you’re really freaking me out.”

“Good.” Nat glanced down at the floor, then leaned forward in her chair. Her voice dropped half an octave.

“I can get you the money,” she said, her eyes locked on Y/N. “Within a week.”

Y/N opened her mouth but all that came out was a small croak. Natasha continued.

“And I mean all of it - everything you’d be getting from your clinic or the Avengers for the next couple of years. The money that’s left to pay off your debt. You could take it and go, no strings.”

“Stop. Stop.” Y/N held up a hand. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what the fuck you’re talking about. Right now.”

Nat held her gaze for a long moment. Dust motes floated in the sunbeam between them.

“The offer is on the table,” she said. “Think about it.”

**********

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you all over the place.”

She turned around to find Bucky in the doorway of the clubhouse kitchen. He was smiling, a sleepy grin stretching up the corners of his mouth and wrinkling the corners of his eyes. His hair was adorably messy and he was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

“I guess you slept the day away, too?” he asked, walking over to lean on the counter next to her.

“Mhm,” she hummed, noncommittal and quiet. Bucky waited for her to go on. She didn’t.

“What’re you making?” he tried, clearing his throat. Was she angry after last night? Hurt?

“Just an omelette,” she answered. Her eyes cut to him quickly then back to her pan. “You guys don’t keep a lot of food around here, but at least there’s eggs.”

“Yeah, well, bikers aren’t exactly known for their cooking.” He smiled at his joke, but it quickly faded when there was no reaction. Her mouth stayed in a firm line, eyes focused on her eggs like they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“Is there...are you upset?” He tried again, searching her face.

She finally looked up at him.

“What? No,” she shook her head. “No, Bucky, I’m not upset. Just...tired, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

She nodded, turned back to her omelette. With a spatula, she lifted the edges of the omelette to check if it was done on the bottom. Bucky sighed but backed off, taking a few steps over to the other side of the counter, where the coffee maker thankfully still had a half-full pot.

“So...I wanted to ask you something,” he began, pouring himself a large mug from the coffee pot. They had their backs turned to each other.

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to ask...well-” He had turned around now, holding his mug and staring at her back from across the kitchen. Her shoulders were drawn up tight, nearly to her ears. “I wanted to ask about the-the kiss.”

Her spine went straight. Without turning from the stove, her head bobbed in a small nod.

“What about it?”

He cleared his throat.

“Well it...it meant something to me, and I - if it meant something to you, then-then I wanted to ask if you’d go on a date with me? A real date?”

She turned around, heart running wild in her chest. The kiss. The kiss. How could she not wonder...she could hardly stop herself from thinking about it, the brush of his stubble against her cheeks, his grip on her waist.

Not even him.

His eyes were on her - open, earnest, a softness only for her. She wanted to cross the kitchen, let him hold her, press her face into his neck-

It could be too late for you.

She gripped the counter behind her. He chewed on his lower lip.

“What did you have in mind?”

[arsons]

“Wow—you’re looking just a liiittle bit antsy at that, you know?”

“Antsy!?” Momota bursts, the perfect mix of astonished and exasperated. “You’re gonna fucking call me—what, antsy in response to what the hell you just dropped!?”

Ouma rolls his eyes and turns to inspect his nails. “Jeez,” he sighs, “I didn’t realize you’d get so gung-ho over some old bike parts.”

“Cause Akamatsu fucking hates bikes!” Momota retaliates.

“Momota-chan, you’re toootally overreacting. In what world are bikes really gonna ruin her life?”

“Uh, in this fucking world, apparently!” Momota yells, gesturing around them with open arms.

Ouma glances left, right, then left again, as if by chance he might find what Momota is emphasizing. He pointedly does not. He scrunches his face up. “What, did they kill her family?”

“That’s not—!”

“Should we discuss the ethics of this? I feel like this is opening a reeeally great ethical discussion for us to have. Say, Momota-chan, where does your trauma stem from?”

Momota sets a hand on his forehead and takes a deep breath before continuing. “Fucking hell, dude. Listen, I—“

“You’ve said the word “‘fuck,’” Ouma stresses, “exactly six times since I mentioned the bike.” He tilts his head to the side. “Didja know that?”

Momota lifts his hand from his face, exposing his eyes once more; somehow, through his anger, he almost manages to look impressed. “Were you actually counting?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Ouma answers. “Of course I was. Because I hang off all the words you say, Momota-chan. I overthink everything you say. All the time.”

Momota blinks at him.

“Always.”

Momota blinks again, slowly. “Not your best lie,” he says.

“...No,” Ouma admits. He covers his mouth. “Nishishi! Ah, Momota-chan, if you wanted a better one, you could’ve just—!”

“Anyway,” Momota interrupts, “what part of sculpting Akamatsu out of bike parts is—what, a fucking prank to you?”

Ouma pouts at that; clearly, Momota is missing out on the entertaining part of the endeavor. How un-fun of him.

“You’re reeeally no fun, huh?” Ouma taps his foot moodily against the ground. “Gosh, have you ever even pulled a practical joke in your life?”

“Yeah, and—“ Momota scrambles for words, “and it didn’t involve people’s psychological fucking fears, alright!?”

“Well, this one’s just like that!” Ouma responds. “Except that it does.”

“That’s completely fucking—! Ouma, that’s—! Oh, my God—“

“Aaah!” Ouma chides, cutting into Momota’s spluttering. “Okay, you seem pretty mad. Are you mad? Should I remind you why you’re here, or should I—?”

“Don’t,” Momota suddenly says. He swallows hard, then rubs at the back of his head. “I...”

Ouma waits.

Momota looks away. “Okay, you know what?” he says. “I don’t even gotta fucking be here. I’m doing this because—“

“Because big, strong men always live up to their promises?” Ouma finishes for him. On a whim, he decides to embellish his words by posing to flex.

It goes badly.

Momota cringes.

“Oh,” Ouma scoffs, standing back upright, “what, like that’s not what you were gonna say? Momota-chan is waaay too predictable with his words! The Luminary of the Stars always—“

“Real men,” Momota interrupts, leveling an accusatory look at him, “don’t cheat at the challenges they get posed.”

Ouma waves his arms out exaggeratedly. “Ugh, it wasn’t cheeeating,” he drawls, his pitch raising mockingly, “to kiss—“

“That’s enough!” Momota interrupts, his pitch also raising. “That’s—fuck, okay, fine! I’ll make your fucking sculpture. Just—what, are we gonna get Angie to help, or something?”

“Oh,” Ouma huffs, “no waaay, baby!” He taps his thumb against his chest. “This is all 100% authentic and homemade! Fresh, organic, and straight from the heart!”

Momota frowns. “I can’t fucking sculpt for shit,” he says.

Ouma sighs, probably a bit too loud and for a bit too long. “You reeeally wanna get Angie-chan?” he whines. “Wow...I guess real men do cheat at the challenges they get p—“

“Fine!” Momota snaps. “Fine. Fuck. I said fine. Fucking hell, we can do it whenever.” He pauses and frowns even deeper. “But just so you know, I still think this is a shitty fucking thing to do.”

“Y’know, I thought it was a pretty shitty thing to kiss—“

“H-Hey!”

“—a guy’s hand—“

“I just said to—!”

“—while you’re—“

“Knock it off!” Momota finishes, red in the face. “Just shut up about it! I said I’ll fucking help you, okay? And I will. So s-stop talking about—all that,” he waves, “and just—get on with it already!”

Momota looks away, self-conscious. Ouma almost laughs at him; instead, he swallows it down in favor of getting a few free seconds to stare openly at his profile. He seems embarrassed. It’s delightful.

“Alright, fiiine,” Ouma finally concedes. “Since you’re so overly eager to get started, I can whip out the blueprints.”

As Ouma unfolds a diagrammed drawing from his shirt pocket, he catches a glimpse of Momota’s unpleasant expression once more. He shakes his head before smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Don’t be so upset!” he offers. “This is gonna be a great character building experience. Akamatsu-chan’s gonna face her fears head-on, like a true manly-man! Like you! So care a little less about that part, mkay?”

Momota bites at the corner of his mouth. He leans closer to get a look at the sheet Ouma’s produced. “Whatever, dude,” is all he says.

Ouma blinks at him. “Whatever?”

“Whatever, just—let’s just get this over with. Even if I don’t know fucking how to.”

Ouma hands his paper over. “Hey, don’t worry about that!” he says. “I mean, it should be simple enough. It’s not, like, rocket science.”

Momota’s eyes shift to his.

Ouma smiles. “Y’know?”

When Momota smacks at the back of his head, it’s just light enough for Ouma to tell that it’s insincere. He lifts the paper up and away for inspection.

It only takes a few seconds for his eyebrows to go up. “Shit, man,” he says. “This is...”

Ouma clicks his tongue from beside him. “Good?” he tries. “Extensive?”

”I—uh. Yeah, actually. Holy shit, dude, you made all of this yourself?”

Ouma sniffs and turns his head up. “I don’t do things halfway, Momota-chan. You know that.”

Momota snorts, lightly. “I guess I do, but...”

”But...?” Ouma prompts.

”But—damn, this is...”

”Yeah.” Ouma shrugs his shoulders, then claps his hands suddenly. “So we’re gonna do it, riiight? Right, Momota-chan? We’re gonna do it?”

Momota stares at the blueprints for a second more, twisting them to read the print. The sheet might be standard sized, but Ouma’s packed a surprising amount onto it; it looks nothing short of an official document, produced by someone with actual experience. It is both good and extensive—Ouma wasn’t lying with those ones. There’s diagrams, instructions, specific parts listed, and—insulting doodles of Akamatsu towards the corners, yeah, but the rest is completely legit.

Momota swallows. Ouma might be one total, downright weirdo, but he apparently knows his stuff. Or, he’s dedicated to what he wants to accomplish. It’s...kind of unexpected, really. For him.

He folds the paper back together. “I mean,” Momota breathes. “I—I guess we are. I...still owe you shit, after all.”

Ouma grins. “Nishishi! And all because you can’t arm wrestle if your opponent decides to—“

Momota smacks him again. This one is light, too—light enough that it ruffles Ouma’s hair out of place, and when he squawks and starts to rearrange it, Momota turns and heads for the door.

Ouma looks up a moment later, spotting him leaving. “Hey!” he calls, fingers still tangled in his hair. “You going somewhere?”

Momota glances back and laughs out loud at his appearance; Ouma, pouting, mid-disheveling himself, is—an amusing sight, at the least.

He turns to lean against the frame, rolling his eyes. “Come on, kid,” he snorts, pulling it open. “We’re going to get your fuckin’ bike parts, and you’re the one buying.”

[rorykillmore]

so this is a birthday present for @numinousbones  that also doubles as like. a general... congratulatory thing, i guess, because they’ve gotten through a lot this year and i wanted to do something nice for the end of their semester.

it also happened bc we haven’t rped together in ages now but we HAVE wistfully talked about a few ideas and dynamics and this crossover thing just kinda popped into my head. it will never rival the legendary transformers/grey’s anatomy masterpiece but ENJOY IT ANYWAY

storm...  i know life often seems like. A Lot right now for way too many reasons, but i have seen you persevere through so much and i will never stop admiring that about you. right now it might feel like there’s no end in sight but you’re so talented and so smart and so passionate and!! one day that’s all gonna come together and feel less like “persevering” and more like. living the life you deserve. okay this is getting way too sappy but i just felt like maybe you needed some sappy in your life, ANYWAYS. happy birthday!!! <3

Ivan Becke is dead before Villanelle can get to him.

It would actually be kind of cool, if the idea of competition didn’t piss her off so much. His throat has been cut, and the wound is neat and deliberate but a little too broad to be from the kitchen knife on the ground a few feet away.

Is it someone’s deliberate attempt at deception? It might work on a less trained eye, but she muses idly on why the other assassin would need to cover up their method if they were going to let him bleed out anyway.

She pouts down at the pale, lifeless face petulantly.  “Look at you. You’re a mess. See what happens when you don’t wait for me?”

As if she’d been planning on leaving him much better off.

Sighing, Villanelle begins to straighten up. Agitation and pent up energy cling to her like static electricity. She hates being denied a kill when she’s already built it up this much, it’s like --

“They told me to leave a mess. I’m usually much cleaner.”  A voice Villanelle doesn’t recognize echoes from -- not behind her, but in front of her, and she doesn’t know how she could have missed the figure in the shadows of the apartment, the pair of unnatural red eyes suddenly glowing back at her.  “Something about making an impression.”

Villanelle wonders whether this is one of those times - so frequent, in her line of work - when it’s better to shoot first and ask questions later. But what the mysterious assailant just said sinks in, and her curiosity gets the better of her. She straightens fully.  “Were you trying to show off for me?” she asks, mockingly flattered.

“...Hardly.”  The eerie gaze never leaves her.  “Or at least, strictly in the most professional sense.”

The figure ripples into full view, and Villanelle can’t him but start at it -- him? Openly. The other assassin is not a person, but a machine. A robot. He’s more cat-like than anything, although he’s much closer to the size of a car than a cat, and now Villanelle is certain there is no way she could have missed him unless he came equipped with some kind of... invisibility trick.  

There are a lot of questions she could ask, right in this moment. A normal person would have probably been sputtering with hundreds of them. But Villanelle knows she would not be the Twelve’s favorite if she was not so extraordinary with things like this: compartmentalizing shock, confusion, fear, no matter how unprecedented. 

So what she says instead is, “Wow. Wasn’t sending you kind of overkill?”

The robot-cat-assassin stares at her, unimpressed.  “Trust me. He wasn’t my usual variety of target.”

“Wait! Let me guess.” Villanelle hardly lets him finish.  “You’re here from the future. Your target was the father of some heroic asshole who’s going to lead a revolution, and you had to come all the way back here to stop him because just killing him as a baby would have been too easy, or something.”

She gets no response this time, but she swears something dubious flickers in the other assassin’s eyes.   “Seriously? You really need to be more genre-savvy.”

“Right,” the cat says. “You know, I don’t know how you can be half as effective as I’m told you are. You never seem to shut up.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation! Getting to know the people in your field is always so awkward.” She leans back on her heels, eyeing him speculatively, wondering what might be her best chance at taking him down if he proves to be a threat. She doesn’t have any weapons on her currently that seem as though they’d be remotely effective against a giant metal predator.  Perhaps she could try electrocuting him, but that would require some luck and some very quick thinking.  “Did the Twelve send you?  They’ve really been holding out on me.”

Some kind of bizarre, technological experiment on their part would be... well, maybe not the strangest thing Villanelle has ever heard, but up there. The other option is that someone else sent him, in which case her life is almost definitely in danger. She watches him carefully despite her casual outward demeanor.

“Not exactly.” The cat’s tail flicks slowly to one side, but he has yet to make a hostile move. “But it turns out that my superiors are interested in yours. Insofar as my superiors can be interested in yours.”

“Are they robots too?” Villanelle asks, taking his dig at the Twelve in stride.

He sniffs disdainfully.  “We’re not robots. We’re Cybertronians. Aliens, as you would call them.”

“Oh. Okay.” Villanelle guesses that isn’t really much weirder than assassin robots from the future. Or the secret, mechanical army the Twelve had suddenly been building in her head.  But a thought suddenly strikes her, and she leans in just a little, quirking a brow.  “Are you invading?”

The thought of the Twelve getting wrapped up in something like this is mildly hilarious. Villanelle can’t think of any other reason aliens would take such an immediate interest in them, though.

“It’s more complicated than that,” the cat says impatiently, which Villanelle is pretty sure is just bullshit. He probably just doesn’t want to admit that whatever devious scheme his superiors have conducted has been done a hundred times in science fiction movies before.  “We’re in the middle of a war, and we could use your organization’s information, and your resources. And no doubt you could use ours.”

There’s definite disdain dripping from his words, this time. Villanelle can’t help but grin a little.  “Oh, you hate this.”

“I’m not particularly fond of working with humans.”

“You’re so much better than us. So much older, so much more technologically advanced... right?”

“Something like that.”

“And yet... you and I do the same work.”

He eyes her coolly for a long moment.  “I do mine better.”

Villanelle laughs. She wanted to hate him - she really did - but he’s making it difficult for her.  “So why did you do this?” She gestures to the corpse on the floor.  “Why bother making an impression on an inferior species?”

Something rumbles in his throat, like a growl.  “Your handler seems to think that getting your attention is the only way to keep you manageable.”

Ah. That does sound like something Konstantin would say. But why --

“...And if we’re going to be working together, I had to think of something that wouldn’t necessitate immediately mauling you.”

Just like that, Villanelle’s smile drops. Working together?

“I work alone,” she states with simple finality.

“You think I like it any more than you do?” he snaps irritably. “Orders are orders. I hear you don’t like following them, but if you make this more difficult than it has to be - draw it out, make things complicated - I really will kill you.”

Inwardly, Villanelle seethes, though more of her anger is directed at Konstantin than her new coworker. He knows she doesn’t play well with others. What is he doing? What are the Twelve doing?

“It sounds like you know all about me already,” Villanelle notes with a clear voice and a smile that is now forced.  “What about you? Do I even get to know your name?”

He watches her for awhile without answering, and Villanelle suddenly starts to feel that he can see through her. She doesn’t like it.   “Ravage,” he says finally.

“Huh. Good name.”

“You may be obnoxious, but I know you’re also talented. For a human.” Ravage gives the half-compliment begrudgingly, seeming to relent a little, and Villanelle can’t help but feel suspicious of that too. “Don’t cause problems, and maybe we’ll even work halfway decently together. Then this will be over more quickly for both of us.”

Villanelle is already thinking of a million and one ways she can cause problems. But she sighs.  If nothing else, she’s curious about Ravage, the way he works, the way he kills. Maybe that will keep her entertained, for a little while.

At least until she gets her next chance to complain to Konstantin.

“Okay, partner!” she says at last, deliberately too cheery.  “What do you say we get out of here before this body starts to smell?”

“Technically, you all smell,” Ravage tells her. She shoots him an offended look.

“I do not smell. Badly, at least.”

“You’ve sprayed something chemical all over yourself. It almost drowns out the reek of your emotions.”

The idea that he can somehow smell her feelings brings Villanelle up short. 

Maybe she’ll start overdoing the perfume, from now on.

“Hey, you’re not going to do that invisibility thing again when we go outside, right?” she asks over her shoulder, heading for the fire escape and already filing away her prickling concerns.

“Yes, actually,” Ravage responds dryly. “Seeing as keeping a low profile would be ideal for both of us.”

“But then it’ll just look like I am talking to myself,” Villanelle complains. “I will look crazy!”

“I don’t think you need my help with that.”

Villanelle laughs again, because he hasn’t seen anything yet. Maybe while she’s trying to learn everything she can from Ravage, she’ll teach him a thing or two as well.

[brokenrealitylooper]

Autumn Snow [p6]

Started Here

Continued from Here

Setting: Weiss, from my Tarnished Silver AU, has found herself back in time to the week of Graduation. Her life reset, no longer on her death bed and with her friends very much alive, she seeks to save them. And, she hopes, find a way to get back the man who saved her from herself

Stepping back into the dorm after her enlightening conversation with Headmaster Ozpin, Weiss was confronted by the waiting gazes of her team.

“So, what’d he say?” Yang chirped.

“We’ll be going to Riga to exchange scrolls,” she moved over to the desk, arms crossed as she leaned against it, “Apparently he and Roman were already starting to work together this far back. We’ll give Roman his scroll, and in return he’ll give us a scroll containing information for Ozpin.”

“That’s good, right?” Ruby looked around before focusing on her partner with a grin, “If he’s already working with the Headmaster, it might be easier for you to win him back.”

“Like I said before, Ruby,” Blake spoke up before Weiss could answer, “He’s not burned out from being betrayed and keeping a low profile for years. He might laugh her off.”

“Which-” Weiss cut in “-is something I’m prepared for. He laughed off my confession in the hospital back when I first admitted I loved him.”

“You didn’t mention that!” Ruby gasped, scandalized. How could someone laugh at a heartfelt confession!

“To be fair, he had just woken up from a coma,” the Heiress shrugged, blushing, “And I might’ve been a touch dramatic.”

“You? Dramatic?” Blake teased.

“Oh ha ha.” she snarked back, but Weiss was grinning all the same, “We settled it a few days later, and lived together after that, baring when he needed to stay at a base to monitor things.”

“So...” Yang flopped back on her bed, “What now?”

“Now we wait for graduation, then we’ll head out to Riga.”

0o0o0

Riga looked just as she remembered it. Old buildings, all single story, with a worn-looking tavern at the end of the main street running through the center of town.

“I don’t get why you had to swap out clothes, Weiss.” Yang chatted, arms behind her head as they made their way to the tavern.

“Nostalgia.” 

Weiss had decided to find a close match to the outfit she’d worn at the time: a maroon vest, and grey blouse and skirt. Much darker than anything she owned back at Beacon, or rather in Vale as they had found--at her guidance--the same apartment she recalled from her last life.

If she were honest with herself, it was in the faint hope her departed husband had found himself back in time as well. Despite the lack of dates from when Roman told her--more like what she could drag out of his smirking face--about when he started working with Ozpin, she didn’t think he’d been helping the Headmaster before Cinder had betrayed him.

Wishful thinking from a hurting heart, she knew, but it was there all the same.

Thinking which turned to almost painful hope when, as they stepped inside, Weiss spotted a familiar shock of orange hair barely covered by a bandana above a dark shirt under an off-white vest.

He looked just like she remembered, if younger, with his gaze focused on the scroll in his hands.

“Oh wow,” Ruby breathed, drawing the attention of the last two, who then followed her gaze and froze, “If I hadn’t been watching where you looked, Weiss, I’d never have seen him.”

The man must’ve felt the weight of their gazes, because he glanced up and froze as he locked eyes with Weiss.

And then he grinned. Not his normal smirk, or the brilliant smile he gave their children, but a grin like he knew a secret and was waiting for Weiss to figure it out.

Weiss smiled back, her feet moving her closer to him, and never once looking away from him.

“Hello, Roman.” dust, she didn’t want to cry in the middle of a tavern, even if it was otherwise empty, “I made it.”

“Hey, sweetheart.” his voice was low, rough, as he watched her, his legs easily shifting him out of his seat as he stood to wrap her in a hug, “Guess you kept that promise after all. “I’ll never leave your side”, huh?”

“Yes,” she answered, voice wet with tears, “I was so scared I wouldn’t get you back.”

“When Oz told me to head to Riga, I wondered if you’d been sent back.” she felt him shift his head as he glanced at her stunned team, “Brought the whole gang, huh? Heya, Red. Kitty Cat, Firebrand.”

“Hey yourself.” Yang’s voiced carried her smirk. Then her tone shifted, darker and low, “I hear you got the one who offed Ruby and me... thanks.”

“If anyone got to take out Red, it was gonna be me.” he shrugged, and a sidestep put Weiss under his arm, “Not that I would’ve. It’s so hard to find entertaining and competent opponents.”

“Definitely Roman.” Blake snorted.

“As if anyone else could be me.” he laughed, as did Weiss, “The last rat, or should I say future rat, who tried found himself in a cell with no money to his name.” 

He gestured at the table, and sat down while dragging Weiss into his lap.

“Now, business before pleasure, hmm? I do have a job to do, turning other people’s lives upside-down.”

Continued Here

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Be My Muse [2/2]

Pairings: Bucky x Reader || Steve x Peggy (mentioned)

Summary: Modern AU. This part involves blind dates and fluffy confessions.

Warnings: Implied/mentioned smut. Language.

Notes: Part 2 for my entry into @just-some-drabbles‘ writing challenge.

[Part 1]

My Masterlist 

“I don’t want to go!” you whine petulantly.

You’re sat at your dressing table, Wanda standing behind you as she arranges your hair into a stylish updo. Natasha is perched on the table in front of you, helping you apply your blush and highlighter, whilst Peggy — in true Peggy fashion — is lying on the bed, contributing to the conversation every now and then.

“Really, Y/N, what’s the worst that could happen?” Natasha chides, dusting the makeup brush over your cheekbones.

“That the guy could be an asshole and this could go down as one of the worst dates in history?” you suggest.

“Actually, I think the worst date scenario is that the guy turns out to be rapist, or a serial killer, or something,” Wanda says solemnly, twisting another lock of hair over your ear and pinning it in place.

“And you remember what to do if he does turn out to be a rapist, don’t you?” Natasha asks, setting her brushes down and picking up a tube of red lipstick.

“I remember,” you sigh, “None of you are helping me calm my nerves, by the way,”.

“Y/N, I think you’re overthinking this,” Peggy pipes up, “I mean, really, this is Steve’s best friend, d’you honestly think he’s going to be so bad?”

“I dunno,” you sigh, “I guess not,”. Peggy has been talking to Steve almost non-stop since getting his number, and has told you countless times how nice he is. Steve speaks highly of this Bucky person, and you’re disinclined to think that he would lie about something like that. Ergo, Bucky must actually be a great guy.

“There. Done,” Natasha says, leaning back and tilting your chin up to examine her handiwork. “You look stunning, darlin’,”, she drawls.

“I agree,” Wanda says, finishing your hair off with a light mist of hairspray. “Whoever Bucky is, he’ll not be able to take his eyes off you,”.

“Thanks girls,” you murmur, standing up to admire yourself in the full length mirror by your bedroom door. “Wow,” you breathe, taking in the sight. This morning, the girls had helped you pick out a knee-length burgundy dress from a little boutique near your apartment. The dress accentuates your shoulders and collarbones in a most captivating manner, and the material hugs your body in all the right places, smoothing out your curves. You’ve paired it with simple gold jewellery and nude heels, wanting to keep the look simplistic, refined and elegant. Wanda and Nat have done an amazing job on hair and makeup, highlighting your natural beauty, without detracting or distracting from it.

Whoever Bucky is, he’ll certainly get some eye-candy tonight.

“So Steve says that Bucky’s going to be wearing all black,” Peggy says, coming to stand beside you. “Shirt, trousers, tie, everything. Can’t miss it. When you get there, just ask for reservation under Barnes,”.

“Got it,” you say absentmindedly, as you adjust the length of your delicate necklace.  

“I’ll be staying at their place tonight,” Wanda tells you, cocking her head in Nat’s direction. “Y’know. Just in case,” she adds, winking knowingly at you.

“Oh my god,” you groan, “You don’t have to, it’s not gonna come to that,”.

“Uh-huh,” Natasha mutters, crossing her arms. “I’ll believe it when I see it,”.

Your gaze drifts over to the clock beside your bed. “I should get going,” you say when you take note of the time, hastily grabbing your purse from your bed before heading out the door.

“Have fun!” Peggy calls

“Use a condom!” Nat adds.

You bark out a breathless laugh. “Will do!” you shout back, more to the first statement than the second, because the likelihood of that being necessary is little to none.

——————

When you get to the restaurant, you take a deep, steadying breath before pushing the door open.

“Good evening, madam,” says the maître d’, a kind-looking man who’s name tag says Scott, “How may I help you?”

“I have a reservation under Barnes,” you reply. He nods, checks the list, then makes a pleased humming noise. “Right this way,” he says, gesturing for you to follow.

You’ve never been to this particular Thai restaurant, though you’ve passed it several times on your way home from work. It’s fairly new, and by the looks of it, fairly popular, as nearly every table is full, giving the place a warm buzz of conversation. The fragrant smells of chilli, coconut and lime linger in the air, and every dish you catch sight of is presented elegantly. Scott weaves expertly through the narrow spaces between tables, leading you to the back of the room. He stops beside a table for two in the corner, where a man in an all black outfit is sitting, head bent over a menu.

Your heart stops.

That hair. That profile.

“James?” you ask in disbelief. His head whips up in surprise and his eyes widen, a glimmer of excitement shining in them.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, stunned into silence.

“Y/N,” James breathes.

Hurriedly, you sink into the chair opposite him and pull your menu closer. “Oh my god. You’re Bucky?” you ask, still trying to wrap your head around this revelation.

James — Bucky? — smiles ruefully. “It’s a nickname,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. You note, once more, how his left hand has a leather glove on it. “Mostly it’s just Steve that uses it. My real name is James Buchanan Barnes,”.

“Oh,” you murmur, “So which one would you like me to use?”

“Bucky,” he says immediately, “I only let special people use it,”.

Your heart flutters excitedly at that. “I can’t believe it’s you!” you exclaim, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your hand. “I mean—I wish I’d given you my number, but—,”

“Yeah,” Bucky murmurs, “I kinda wished that too,”. He tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing for a second. “Not the, I wish you’d given me your number—wait, I meant—ugh that came out wrong—of course I’d like that, but—I wish I’d given you my—,”.

“Bucky, I get it,” you soothe, interrupting him when you sense that he’s working himself into a frenzy. Bucky flushes, embarrassed at having gotten so flustered by your presence. “Let’s order first, shall we?” you suggest.

——————

“So you’re a writer, huh?”, you ask, once the waiter has taken your orders and cleared away your drinks.

Bucky grimaces, “Supposed to be one,”.

“How’s that writer’s block going?”

“Not moving anywhere,”, he sighs, scrubbing one hand over his face as he leans back into his seat. “It’s nothing something I can just…move. I’m either inspired or I’m not. There’s no in-between,”.

“Sorry about that,” you murmur, sensing that this is a touchy subject for him.

“Don’t be,”, Bucky replies, quirking his mouth into a lopsided grin. “S’not your fault,”.

You hum in agreement. Then, deciding to change tactics, slightly, you ask, “What kind of books do you write? I don’t recall hearing the name James Barnes anywhere,”.

Bucky hesitates, fiddling with his cutlery for a second. “I…write under a pseud, actually,”, he admits.

Your eyes widen in interest. “A pseudonym? That’s cool! What is it?”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “No. Not telling,”

“C’mon, please?” you whine. “You can’t leave me hanging! I wanna know,” you beg, drawing out the last word.

He huffs out a breath of air. “Fine. You’re gonna find it so dorky. It’s the Winter Soldier,”.

If your jaw could hit the floor, it would’ve. “The Winter Soldier? As in, the man who wrote the Howling Commandos?” you ask, mouth still gaping in utter disbelief.

“That’s me,” Bucky confirms, lips curling into a broader smile. “You’ve read it?”

You snort at the tentative hopefulness in his voice. “Who hasn’t?” you scoff, “That thing is a masterpiece! I’ve only read it about a hundred times,”.

“Only a hundred?” he quips, eyes glimmering with amusement, “I’m offended, doll,”.

You try to ignore the exhilarated flip in your stomach when you hear the pet name. “I’ve read all your other works too,” you gush, “Hydra was amazing, and so was Azzano, and Civil War, oh my god—oh, sorry, does this freak you out?” you ask, breaking off when you see the painfully apparent discomfort in his features.

Bucky shakes his head and laughs mirthlessly. “I—it’s kinda hard for me to talk about my writing,” he confesses, “I’ve…I haven’t written properly for a few months now, and thinking about it just makes me feel like a failure,”. A sympathetic twinge of pain shoots through your heart when you see his crestfallen expression.

“Hey,” you say softly, instinctively reaching across the table to touch his hand. It’s the gloved one, and, though he flinches, he doesn’t pull away. “You’re not a failure. So what if you’re taking a while to get inspiration? I’ve been trying to save up for my bakery for the last three years and I still only have half the amount I need. You just gotta keep trying. I believe in you,”.

Bucky smiles, bright and beautiful at you. He opens his mouth to say something, but the waiter comes by again, setting your dishes down in front of you. When he’s gone, Bucky murmurs a quiet, grateful, “Thank you,”.

“No problem,” you reply, picking up your spoon and preparing to dig into what is undoubtedly the most enticing-looking pineapple fried rice you’ve ever set eyes on. “I’m being serious, though. If it makes you feel any better, you’re writing is so…emotive. Your characters are always so complex, and the plot development, the prose…everything, it’s—impeccable. Unlike anything I’ve ever read,”.

He smiles shyly, ducking his head down to hide the blush colouring his cheeks at your praise. “What’s your favourite thing that I’ve written?” Bucky asks quietly.

You pause, thinking about your response. You chew your mouthful slowly, swallow and take a sip of water before answering. “I think it’s got to be Captain America,” you reply. “I mean, everything about it, the self-sacrifice, the relationship between him and his best friend, the sensitive treatment of PTSD, I just—it took my breath away,”.

“Really?” Bucky asks, “My first book? Surely my writing’s gotten better—,”

“It has,” you assure him, “Really, it has, but…I dunno. Something about the plot and the characters just connects with me. It’s a stunning piece of literature,”.

“Wow,” Bucky chuckles, taking another forkful of his curry. “I signed up for a blind date, and I got this wonderful pep talk instead,”.

“We all need a confidence boost sometimes,” you reply easily.

“Yeah,” he murmurs absentmindedly.

You eat in companionable silence for a minute, until curiosity gets the better of you. He is one of your favourite authors, after all. “So…if you don’t mind me asking…I mean, I know you’re having a block, but…how’re things—what’re you…” your voice trails off and your hands flail about, hoping that Bucky will somehow miraculously get the idea.

He laughs. “How’s my writing going? Why did I come up with a wall?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “That,”.

Bucky hums thoughtfully. “It’s—the thing with my writing is that a lot of it is influenced by life experience,” he explains, “I served in the army for a while, which is why a lot of my stories are about battle and all that shit,”.

“Makes sense,” you say, taking another spoonful of your fried rice.

“Well, the thing is, I’ve wanted to branch out into…new things,” Bucky says, brows furrowed in concentration, trying to pick his words with care. “Military fiction is all well and good, but it’s not…not what I wanted to do, originally,”

“Genre-wise?” you ask.

“Yeah,”. Bucky hesitates, gnawing at his bottom lip restlessly.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna,” you say quickly, “You’ve told me so much already—,”

“Romance,” Bucky blurts out, looking at you with frantic, nervous eyes, “That’s—that’s what I really want to do. I’ve…” he breaks off with a brittle laugh, “I’ve always had a liking for that sort of thing. Mundane characters, doing unremarkable things. Doesn’t sound the most interesting, but I guess that’s part of the challenge, right? Making something spectacular out of something ordinary,”.

“I’d read that,” you tell him, giving him an encouraging smile. “I think you’d put a whole new twist on the romance genre. Give everyone else a run for their money,”.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky huffs. “That’ll only happen if I can get a story out. I’ve been searching for my muse for god knows how long, and I still haven’t found it yet,”

“I hope you find inspiration soon,” you say quietly.

Bucky looks at you with a funny glint in his eyes, an expression you can’t quite place. “Yeah. Me too,”.

——————

“Let me walk you home,” Bucky says, holding the door open for you.

“Thank you, Bucky, but I can get back on my own,” you reply, smiling gratefully at him as you step out onto the street.  

He huffs out a laugh and nods. “I know. The thing is, you don’t have to,” he replies, chancing a coy, sideways glance at you.

You roll your eyes and flash him an amused smirk. “I don’t sleep with men I’ve just met, James,”.

“You didn’t just meet me,” Bucky points out, “We met a couple of days ago, remember?”

You giggle, but acquiesce his request, sliding your hand around his elbow. “Alright. Fine. Walk me home, if you’re so desperate,”.

——————

His lips are sweet, chaste, tender. The kiss is everything you’ve missed about being with someone, yet so much more. Your fingers tangle in Bucky’s dark hair, and his hand — just the one, just the right — cups the back of your neck, holding you in place. His left one rests stiffly at the small of your back.

“Come upstairs with me,” you breathe, lips brushing against his with every word.

Bucky laughs quietly. “You trying to get me to sleep with you?” he teases, flicking his tongue over the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t do one night stands, James,”, you drawl, nipping his bottom lip gently.

“Neither do I, doll,” he replies.

A tense silence passes, both of you trying to figure out the other’s intentions. “So—what?” you ask hesitantly, “Is this…not happening, or are we going to be something…more permanent?”

“I’m not going to force you into anything,”, Bucky murmurs, hands coming to cup your waist, “But I know what my answer is,”.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”.

You swallow, resting your forehead against his. “I have a feeling we’re on the same wave-length, then,”.

——————

Bucky crawls over you, lip caught between his teeth and a rakish gleam in his eyes. You reach up to cup his jaw, but he’s too quick, ducking his head down to pepper your neck with whisper-soft kisses. You sigh contentedly, arching into the touch.

Your hands wander down his front, nimble fingers making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. You tease every fresh patch of bare skin that is exposed, making him groan and hum against your neck. You’re about to push the shirt off when Bucky suddenly stills, pulling back and looking at you with a concerned expression.

“What’s wrong?”

He swallows. “I—um, need to tell you something,”

“Oh god, please don’t tell me you have an STD,” you breathe.

“No!”. Despite his nerves, he manages a dry chuckle. “No, it’s not that, I—,” he cuts himself off with a frustrated huff, running the fingers of his uncovered hand through his hair. “I was in the war. In Iraq,” Bucky says haltingly. “And…there was a grenade. And—well,”.

Instead of trying to explain it to you verbally, Bucky pulls off his leather glove, revealing a sleek, gleaming metal hand. The plates click and whirr softly as he flexes his fingers.

“Blasted the whole of my arm off,” Bucky murmurs. You can feel his eyes trained on your face. “This is a Stark invention,”. At your arched eyebrow, he nods. “Yep. The Tony Stark. Part of his prosthetics project. It’s just a prototype, but—it works, so I’m not complaining,”

You don’t reply, mutely taking in the metal appendage, in awe of it, really. Bucky takes your silence as your disapproval

“I’m sorry—I—it’s okay, if—,”

“No!” you cry, hand fisting in the front of his shirt to hold him still. “No, I’m not weirded out or anything, just curious. Can I touch it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers, eyes darkening infinitesimally. He clears his throat. “Go ahead. Tony installed—not nerves, per se, but pressure and temperature sensors, so I can feel things,”.

You press a kiss to his lips, brush your thumb over his cheek, then slide your hands underneath his shirt, moving them towards his shoulders. Under your right fingers, you feel thick, ropey scars contrasting with smooth, slightly cool metal. At his nod, you slide the garment off, revealing his cybernetic arm in all its glory.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

——————

You’re utterly sated, back pressed against Bucky’s chest and legs entangled with his. Bucky’s flesh hand traces invisible patterns on your stomach, and his face is pressed into the back of your neck. The room is silent, save for the sound of your steady breaths.

“Doll?” Bucky whispers, lips grazing against your skin.

“Mmm?”

“I got this new idea for a story,”.

“Yeah?” you mumble, “Tell me about it,”.

“I think it’s going to be about…a man. An uninspired writer, feeling like the world’s closing in on him, trying to squeeze the fun outta life,”.

“Gee, sounds depressing,” you remark dryly.

“He’s suffering. No motivation, no drive, no desire to write anything. He walks into a shop one day and sees this gorgeous girl behind the counter—,”

Your breathing hitches.

“—And tries talking to her. Now she—she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever met. Kind, and funny, and humble. And it’s only ten minutes, but he finds himself falling in love with every little part of her,”.

Your heart thumps erratically behind your ribs.

“Thing is, he’s not sure how she feels about him,” Bucky continues, “He can’t stop thinking about her for the rest of the day. Later, his best friend sets him up for a blind date, and lo and behold — it’s the girl again,”.

“This storyline sounds familiar,” you mumble, forcing yourself to speak despite the parched sensation in your throat.

“Mmm. I told you I take inspiration from my own life,” he replies, “Anyway, he and the girl spend the evening talking about anything and everything. Conversation flows so easily, and…from just being with her, he feels more inspired than he’s ever been in a year,”. Bucky’s voice turns quiet and breathy, almost as if he’s afraid to say this last bit. “He’s found his muse, but he’s terrified that she’s going to run,”.

You squeeze his hand reassuringly, interlacing your fingers with his own. “I think that’s going to be a great story, Bucky,” you whisper, hoping against all hope that his confession implies what you think it implies.

Bucky is silent for a long while after that, and, if it weren’t for the cadence of his breathing, you’d think that he might’ve fallen asleep. “I don’t know how it ends, though. Will they have a happy ending?”

His tone is simultaneously hopeful and afraid, and it’s doing all sorts of things to your over-excited heart. You twist in his arms so that you can look at Bucky properly. “I hope so,” you say softly, cupping his cheek with your hand. Bucky leans into the touch, catching your wrist and holding it in place as he turns his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“Will you stay?” Bucky asks, eyes glimmering with a million unspoken pleas, “Will you be my muse?”

You smile indulgently at him. “I’d like to see how this story ends,”.

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[inspectorboxer]

World on Fire

by Inspector Boxer

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex/Maggie

Rating: T

Author’s notes: This is a prompt fill for @quinnsexriot who requested prompt #10, “Did you really think I’d just give up?” This one got a bit angsty and intense, but it’s got a happy ending. Hope you like it. :)

Thanks to @zennie-fic for the quick beta.

****

Maggie struggled toward consciousness. She was warm, unbearably so, sweat slick on her body beneath her clothes, and the world waiting for her on the other side of the darkness was deadly.

A loud groan followed by a worrisome cracking finally jarred her leaden eyelids open, and Maggie woke to a world on fire.

“Alex?” Maggie whispered, struggling to sit up. Her legs were pinned by something heavy, and panic stirred in her chest, chasing away the mental cobwebs and sharpening her senses. “Alex!” she called out with a little more volume, glancing around for her girlfriend and finding nothing but destruction and flames. She drew in a deep breath of the heated air, choking on ash and smoke. “Alex!”

The old apartment building. The alien they’d chased inside. The trap they’d walked right into. It came back to her in a sick rush when she remembered the fire, Alex pushing her out of the way to save her.

“Maggie!” Alex suddenly yelled back, somewhere close, the distress in her voice agitating Maggie further, but at least she knew the other woman was alive.  

Wooden timbers dropped from the ceiling with a boom, embers shooting skyward at the impact, and the floor vibrated ominously under her. Maggie struggled to get up again. She had to get out of there. She had to get Alex out of there.

Maggie turned to assess what was holding her down and discovered something far more concerning. A section of floor had given way behind her, opening a gaping chasm to the ground four stories below. It glowed with fire, smoking drifting toward the ceiling, looking for all the world like a pit straight to hell.

“Shit,” Maggie hissed. Where was Supergirl when you needed her?

With the world burning down around her, Maggie twisted, trying to pull her legs free. Pain exploded in her right ankle and she grimaced, clenching her teeth, but she kept fighting, desperate to get to Alex.

“Maggie!” Alex abruptly stumbled out of the destruction, her features streaked with soot and marred by scratches, and Maggie’s nearly collapsed at seeing her alive and whole.

Palms on the floor, Maggie had to shift to her elbows as the surface became too hot to touch. “I’m pinned,” she warned Alex. “Get help!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex shot back, ripping off her tactical vest and tossing it aside. Her features were drenched in sweat and she coughed as she edged closer, trying to find a way around the debris and flames to get them out.

Several floorboards splintered under Alex’s feet and fell away, forcing the agent to retreat from her chosen path. Alex swore as the holes revealed the inferno below them. She froze, the remaining wood creaking threateningly. The joists wouldn’t hold much longer.

Maggie stared at the other woman, a strange mixture of calm and grief descending upon her as she accepted her fate, watching as Alex searched frantically for a way to get to her.

There was none.

Maggie hated that she didn’t get more time. She hated that she wouldn’t live to see where this amazing thing she shared with Alex would lead them, but she was grateful she’d tasted it, that she’d known what it meant to fall in the kind of love that could have lasted a lifetime.

“Alex…” Maggie pleaded calmly, tears blurring her vision and choking the back of her throat as fire raged around them. “The floor is gonna go, babe. You need to get back.”

“Like hell,” Alex snarled.

“Think of Kara. She needs you. I need you to live, Alex. Please…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex said again, her own features contorting in pain as their gazes met and held. “I can’t.”

“Alex…”

Ignoring her, Alex got down on her stomach and started inching closer, trying to displace her weight. Even when the floor cracked and splintered, dropping several inches, Alex never wavered, and Maggie realized whatever happened next, Alex was determined they would be in it together.

“No,” Maggie shouted. “Alex, no!”

Alex kept coming. She was too close now, her hand inches from Maggie’s own. “Damnit, Danvers! Get back!”

There was a loud boom below, and Maggie knew in her guts it was the end. She closed her eyes, unable to watch Alex die.

Fingers slippery with sweat and soot wrapped around Maggie’s wrist as something shattered below them. The floor tipped, and the heavy object pinning Maggie’s leg fell away. A moment later she followed, plunging toward the fire below.

Alex never let go.

****

The low murmur of voices slowly ebbed into Maggie’s awareness. She groaned softly. Her head throbbed and her lungs ached, but she willed her eyes open, wincing at the ceiling that came into focus. It was sad she recognized the view. She was in the medical bay at the DEO.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Maggie tried to sit up, ripping off the oxygen mask she found over her nose and mouth. “Alex?”

Someone shushed her gently, and a warm, firm hand on her shoulder urged her back onto the bed. “She’s okay.”

There was no resisting that pressure, and Maggie dropped her head back on the pillows, never happier to see the Girl of Steel at her side.

“She’s okay,” Supergirl said again with a reassuring smile. “Something tells me she’ll be even better now that you’re awake.”

Maggie squinted into the lights. “You saved us, huh?”

Supergirl hesitated before she slowly nodded, and Maggie saw a glimpse of remembered terror in her eyes. “Caught you both just in time and flew you to the DEO. You missed the ride, Detective,” she teased.

“Alex?” Maggie needed her, and she didn’t give a damn if that made her weak.

“I sent her to get cleaned up. Told her I’d watch you.” Supergirl’s blue eyes were kind and full of concern. She tipped her head slightly, listening. “Here she comes, though. I knew she’d hurry.”

“I told you to come get me,” Alex huffed, moving quickly to Maggie’s side. Her hair was still wet from the showers, and the scratches on her features were more vivid without the soot to disguise them.

The sight of her was better than a sedative for calming Maggie down, and she closed her eyes in simple relief. They weren’t done. Not yet. Hopefully not for a very long time.

“She just woke up, dummy.” Supergirl nevertheless grinned as Alex started fussing over her girlfriend, checking Maggie’s ankle, followed by her IV, and finally reaching up to run one of her hands through Maggie’s hair.

“You okay?” Alex whispered.

“Yeah,” Maggie breathed, opening her eyes again to stare at Alex for a long, charged moment. Even injured, exhausted, and worried, Alex Danvers was the most beautiful thing Maggie had ever seen. “But for the record? You’re an idiot.”

Supergirl snorted in amusement only to get a scathing glare from Alex.

“Wow. Okay,” Kara drawled. “I can see I’m no longer needed.” Supergirl smiled at them both, warmth and affection heavy in her gaze. Maggie captured Supergirl’s hand before she could turn and leave, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Thanks. For everything,” Maggie added. Supergirl glanced at Alex, her gaze softening before it returned to Maggie. “Anytime,” she murmured. “Glad you’re okay.”

Alex suddenly looked a little more contrite. “I’ll come find you later,” she promised.

Supergirl nodded and left them alone.

“She’s got damn good timing, huh?” Maggie smiled.

“You have no idea,” Alex said around a weak laugh.

Maggie leaned into Alex’s touch as the other woman cupped her cheek, savoring the familiar calluses on Alex’s palm, the living warmth of her skin. “You okay?” Alex repeated quietly.

“Am now. Although I’ve got a headache and my ankle throbs like a bitch.”

Alex smiled, but Maggie could see fear lingering in her eyes. It had been close. Too close.

Maggie tilted her head, studying her lover critically. She scooted over and patted the bed beside her. “Sit down before you fall down, hon.”

The soft term of endearment never failed to bring a smile to Alex’s lips, and this time was no exception. Gingerly, Alex sat, and Maggie wondered what kind of injuries Alex was keeping from her.

“What about you?”

Alex shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal.” She swallowed and looked down as Maggie threaded their fingers together. “This…” Alex tightened her grip. “This is all I need to feel better,” she confessed.

“You’re an idiot,” Maggie reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alex.”

“Did you really think I’d just give up?” Alex chided. “Knowing you were in there? That you could be hurt? That you could be…?” She looked away, swallowing roughly as a few agents walked past the medical bay, laughing at a private joke.

Maggie stared at Alex’s proud profile. No one had ever put themselves on the line for her like that. No one. “You were willing to fall with me,” Maggie whispered, slightly awed.

Alex’s head whipped back around at the words. She shrugged, the motion jerky. “I knew Supergirl…”

“No you didn’t,” Maggie countered, easing back against the pillows again. “I saw the look in your eyes, Alex. You made the choice…” Her voice broke.

“I couldn’t…” Alex sighed. “I didn’t want to come out of there without you,” she ground out, her voice wavering. “So yeah. I was willing to fall with you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Considering I already fell for you once…” she added, her tone a little lighter, “the second time seemed like a piece of cake.”

Maggie rolled her eyes even though she was secretly charmed. “I love you,” she breathed, saying the words she’d been holding back for several weeks now. Alex predictably melted at the declaration, and the emotion Maggie felt for the amazing woman at her side only grew stronger and sweeter at the sight.

“Maggie…”

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” Maggie told her. “I just… I wanted you to know that. You deserve to know that.”

Warm lips on her own meant everything until Alex spoke. “I love you too.”

Maggie tugged on Alex’s shirt, encouraging her to curl around her on the small gurney. They snuggled together, warm, close, and alive. Despite the hell they’d just been through, they’d found a slice of heaven at the end of it.