#Like wow the building makes me feel awful the half finished projects make me feel awful the walls make me feel awful

[seafoam-taide]

Grips my face and collapses on ground to my knees. Ohhh the Hate the the the. WFUCKKK

[lucky-catttt]

Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 2

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED TO READ.

Word Count: 3,885

Warnings: Prepare to put a towel down or go touch some grass after, either or LOL Mention of genitals, oral sex, squirting, face fucking, choking, names, foreplay, degradation, aftercare, BDSM, sexism/sexual harrassment.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I’ve also added images and gifs to help readers imagine the scenarios and reactions!

“So what kind of proposal were we thinking of that would save Black Gold corporation?” Max quizzes, leaning back against his chair. You pause to think while finishing your pastry. “Well” you begin “This space is huge, around 4,300 square feet. The lease Black Gold is renting this office floor has no major restrictions on it, so you could potentially sub-let the space on the floor for a monthly or fixed term lease to people who work remotely or teams that don’t want to commit to a larger office space. It's becoming more common because of the GFC, people can't commit to large long term leases for whole office floors anymore. You could also rent out the boardroom by the hour & also lease the private manager offices to businesses that want their own private room. And we already have a reception near the lifts, just re-hire them and make them pretend they work for all the businesses on the floor, answering their calls, doing admin work like scanning and faxing etc. As far as the business’s clients that show up are concerned, each business looks like they own the whole floor.

If we do a cost analysis and then get a small investor to cover the startup costs, we could guarantee them a return if businesses pay contract deposits or pay their lease in advance up front. Plus the landlord we owe money to. And with the top floor with amazing views and location, we can charge top dollar” Max stares at you in disbelief. “Wow, are you sure you don’t wanna be CEO?” He laughs, still in shock. You laugh, blushing. “I started working on a business proposal for one of my university assessments, if we customise it for this project we could pitch it to some investors and banks and speak to the landlord about it as well” You reply. “I could kiss you right now.” Maxwell sighs, gripping his fist. “Please do” you giggle, leaning towards him. Max reaches out both hands to cup your face, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do!” Max yells, before striding towards the bathroom to take a shower. Two weeks go by and the proposal is ready. Max calls you from the company car, on the way to your house to pick you up before the big investors meeting. “I’ll be right outside your place in a few minutes my sweet” He coos, beaming with excitement to see you. As his car pulls up, you collect your compendium, presentation cards and your pointer rod. Struggling with all you have to carry, Alfred rushes out of the car and up the steps to the front door, collecting all of your belongings. 

Maxwell peers over the top of his shades but the sun from behind your house blinds him. He shuffles across the seat and opens the car door, the sun now hiding from his view. As he removes his shades and looks up the stairs towards your front door, he sees you standing there, fixing your outfit. He’s stunned. 

It might be 1984, but you’re wearing a stunning outfit pulled straight from the 50s. A black suit dress with a pleat in the front with a thin gold belt around your waist. You accented the look with strap Mary jane heels, a black and gold handbag and a neat beret fascinator. Your hair was curled, accentuated with bright red lipstick and a single set of pearl earrings.

Max looks like he’s about to drop to his knees in awe, but his knees bend into a lengthy stride up the stairs, rushing to your side. “A heavenly vision of beauty'' Max gasps, giving you a kiss on the cheek in an attempt to preserve your makeup. He puts out his arm and you wrap your hands around it, as he leads you down your stairs to the car, staring at you the whole time, letting the universe guide his steps as this absolute goddess graces his presence. You both slide into the back seat of Max’s company car, his large hand immediately passing along your back and resting on your hip and ass, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I dont know how this presentation is going to go, but I can be absolutely certain that myself and every other person in that room will be enraptured by your presence”. he murmurs into your neck, squeezing your ass.

Max was wearing a pinstripe royal blue suit with black laced oxfords. His matching tie and pocket square peeking out. “I would kiss you right now but i don't want to get lipstick on your face just before our meeting” you blush, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. We have all the time in the world after” Max replies, running his nose down your neck, breathing gently against your skin.

 “We should probably prepare for the meeting, Max” you chuckle, seeing the office building not far up the road. You pull out your compendium and flip to an architectural blueprint of the office floor. 

“I had this drawn up by an architectural drafter last week. As you can see the large blank space is your office and private room, you already have the glass frosted for privacy. All the other office cubicles will be converted to private offices, as well as boardrooms, co-working areas and remote working hot spots.” Max’s eyes widen with surprise at the level of detail. “How did you get this done? I certainly don't remember commissioning this'' rubbing his chin. “I paid for it” you respond, nonchalantly. “You spent your money, for me?” Max inquires, now in disbelief. “Of course. I told you I would help you, Max. Consider it an investment”. You wink, flipping through more pages of the presentation. Just when Max thought he couldn't fall more in love with you than he already has, your hard work and giving nature makes his heart swell even larger to make room. After a few minutes the car pulls up to the investor’s office building. “Before we go in there, I want to ask you something.” Your eyes widen with intrigue. “While we're there, I’m not sure how these businessmen will react to a woman being anything more than my personal assistant. I’m not intimidated by you at all, but I suspect some of them might be” He continues, his eyes falling to your lap as he holds your hands. “Max, this project is my dream, but it’s your company, so i’m giving it to you to present. You’re the only person I trust with this”. 

As Maxwell begins to get himself together, you take a seat adjacent to where Max is standing. Although your knees are together with one ankle behind the other, you can feel some of the businessmen closest to you looking you up and down like a piece of meat. You quickly turn to face Max, giving him your undivided attention. “Well, I know you’re all very busy, so lets get started” Max smiles, wringing his palms together. The businessmen listen intently to Max’s pitch for the restructure of Black Gold corporation, before they begin to ask questions on financials. You begin to notice the men losing interest and Max starting to lose his confidence. He looks at you, his expression half pleading and half embarrassed. Without any hesitation, you stand up from your chair, striding over to Max’s side, picking up the pointing rod from the easel and pulling it to full length with one swift pull. 

The men all sit upright at attention from the sound of the rod. “If I may, Maxwell” you butt in, politely. “Gentleman” You steady the pointer rod against the chart on the easel “the profit figures on the project are as follows; 36 external view offices, charged at $3,000 per month each, generating $108,000 gross profit. The 25 internal offices with no view will be $500 per month, generating $12,500. We also have hot-desks with memberships starting at $20 per month. If companies want us to answer their phones, do their mail, bring them coffee, do their shopping, take their dry-cleaning, walk their dogs or bring them lunch, that's an additional fee. Essentially, we are looking at a monthly profit turnover of $150,000+. Our current lease fee is $50,000 a month with about $15,000 in body corporate and utilities, leaving $85,000 per month net profit, $225 thousand per quarter and over a million annually. We currently are looking for a combined setup cost of around $500,000. The more you invest, the bigger your return.” You swing the pointer road and rest it on your shoulder. 

Silence fills the room and you panic. Your assertiveness may have turned them off, so you pretend to be ditzy and dip one of your feet inwards. The men who are all sitting up at attention, look between each other and nod. Your charm and business acumen seemed to have put them under some kind of spell. “Thanks for your time gentleman. If you have any questions please feel free to call” you finish, walking around to hand each of them Max’s business card. The men begin to chat amongst themselves, before one of them approaches Maxwell. They introduce themselves and begin chatting about the pitch “You should be very proud of your assistant Maxwell” they chuckle “she seems very switched on and driven”. Max shoots you a smiling glance, before turning back “Yeah, I’m actually going to make her the CFO” he responds. “Well, we’ll deliberate here and be back in touch with our offer”. The meeting finally wraps up and you both head back downstairs where Alfred is waiting with the car door already open. You both slide inside and Max wraps his arms around you before passionately kissing your lips as the car drives back to his office.

“You want to make me the.. CFO?” you pant, breaking from the kiss. “Yes” Max smiles, staring into your eyes. “You have worked so hard and today at the presentation..I know you’re the woman for the job. Do you want it?” You blush, holding his face “Well how can I say no?”. The company car finally pulls up back at the office and you both head through the lobby and into the lift. Max stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, talking about the enormous amount of work that will potentially need to be done if this deal goes through. As the lift doors open into the reception area, you both step out and Max hears the phone in his office start to ring. You give him an excited smile, encouraging him to go take the call in private. He begins striding through the empty office before making it to his office, pushing the doors open and heading over to his desk.

You take your time walking back to his office, giving Max time to finish his phone call. As you approach his office doors, you hear the click of the receiver as he hangs up. You watch Max’s shadow behind the frosted glass walk up to the doors and swing them open, a neutral look on his face. You look puzzled, thinking it was bad news before he burst out laughing with a smile, swinging you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. “You did it baby!” He yells, slapping your backside before throwing you both down onto the bed. “We did!?” you scream, a wave of relief and excitement washing over you. “Yes! I’m so proud of you. You saved Black Gold corporation. You saved me.” Max smiles, brushing a lock of curls away from your face before cupping your cheek and passionately kissing you. 

You kick off your shoes, belt and take off your beret fascinator as Max removes his suit jacket, suspenders and belt, before kissing each other again. “I was so turned on by you today” Max moans, writhing his hands all over your body, before ripping the bust of your dress open, the two buttons pinging off onto the carpet. “Watching your voluptuous ass in that dress walking into that boardroom and how you commanded the room’s attention, took control and sealed the deal. I wanted to put you over that boardroom table and worship you like the goddess you are. But I guess I can do that now”. Something about wearing your favourite suit of his, the unwavering progressive support of women and eagerness to pleasure you unlocks your most ravenous sexual desires. You stop Max, sitting up at the foot of the bed. He gets up from laying down and looks at you, worried he said or did something wrong. “Whats wrong my love?” he asks, looking concerned. ****MAJOR SMUT WARNING AHEAD**** “Max… you’ve shown me the romantic love making version which was so beautiful, but I want to make you feel worshipped” Max gives you an interesting glance. “You’re such a giving person but I want to give back. You’ve suffered neglect and mistreatment most of your life. I want to give you a different kind of passionate sex. I have fantasies and wild ideas that I think will give you immense pleasure. I want you to….” You stop yourself, not sure how he will react. Max's eyes widened with intrigue. “Go on?” Max squeezes your hand. “Well” you begin. The passionate fire is burning hotter and hotter within you. “I want you…” you hitch up your skirt and sit across Max’s lap, with one leg over each side “to straddle my chest and fuck my throat while I rub my clit” you get closer to Max’s face, pulling on his tie “And I want to cum while you’re throat fucking and choking me with your cock” you begin to undo his tie “And then I want you to cum in the back of my throat and make me swallow it”. There’s dead silence, so you bat your eyelash extensions, throwing a sexy yet innocent gaze followed by “hmmm?”. Max’s mind goes completely blank, the blood rushing from every inch of his body straight to his cock, which you feel hardened against your crotch as you straddle him. “Uhh wow honey that sounds very dangerous.” Max chokes, embarrassed he's getting turned on at the idea of hurting you. 

“For you or me?” You giggle, biting your lip. “For you” Max says, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do to you Hermosa?”. “Yes Maxwell. I love the way you worship and pleasure me, but I want you to feel the same way. I have a kink when it comes to being dominated. Seeing my man so turned on and using his strength and body to please himself using me, makes me feel incredible. I know you would never hurt me, it’s something I would love for you to experience” You answer before kissing his neck. “You really are too good to me, princessa” Max sighs, running his hands down your back to your ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Max” you give him a reassuring look, worried you might have overstepped. “No baby, I’d love to, if that’s what will bring you the most pleasure” He coos, kissing your neck.

You begin to take off your dress, revealing under a black and gold laced lingerie set. “Black and Gold” you chuckle, watching Max’s eyes widen at the level of detail. “How did I get so lucky?” Max pants, pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers to contain his rock hard cock. You go to reach for Max’s crotch when his hand stops you. “Before we do this” Max begins “I want you to stop me at any time if it hurts or you can’t breathe or you just don’t want to do it anymore. That is the most important thing to me”. You nod and smile at Max, leaning in to kiss him, before your hands start to remove his boxers.

You reach down and begin to tease his cock, tracing your fingers tips against the tip. With your other hand you guide Max’s hand down, placing it at the top of your panties. As he starts to put his hands under your panties, he notices there’s a hole in them. Max stops to inspect. “Crotchless panties? Me vuelves loco” Max pants before he begin kissing and biting all over your body.

You’re in for it now. Like a virus, you’ve taken over Max’s brain, flooding it with animalistic desire and passion. A switch has been flipped and hell bent on blowing your mind, leaving all of his inhibitions and reservations about what he’s about to do to you at the door. Max climbs on top of you, wrapping his large hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you gasp for air. “Is this what you want?” He growls into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You manage to nod before moaning, indicating that you’re enjoying it. He’s never treated a woman like this before, but he manages to find the personality and words seemingly from thin air, like it was repressed all this time. “Start touching yourself for me now” Max commands. You slide your hand down into your panties and start rubbing your clit, sparks flying through your body and the slick now leaking out of your pussy. He groans at the sight of you touching yourself. Max moves up the bed before straddling over your chest. With your head propped up on some pillows, you look in Max’s eyes and ready your mouth and jaw for his throbbing cock. Max thumbs your bottom lip before grabbing just under your jaw to keep your face steady. “Open wide like the good little whore that you are” he hisses, smacking the tip of his precum soaked cock on your face.

The degrading name only makes you wetter, as you furiously rub your clitoris whilst pinned under Max’s legs. You moan as Max pushes his cock into your mouth and down your throat. “Oh my god my love your mouth feels incredible” Max moans, his character from before severely altered by the pleasurable sensation. He realises his mistake and compensates by pushing his cock as far as it will fit into your mouth and throat. “That’s it, take it all” he smirks, exhaling with a moan. You use two fingers to scoop up some of your slick and rub it into your clitoris, which is now super sensitive. Your stifled moans humming against Max’s veiny cock cause it to twitch. With your hips bucking from pleasuring yourself, Max takes both of his hands and puts them on your cheeks. “Fuck your mouth feels so good” Max moans, slowly thrusting back and forth out of your mouth, his cock touching your uvula and causing you to gag with each stroke. Your eyes begin to roll back in your skull as you continue to moan & choke, your swollen clitoris edging closer and closer to orgasm. “You like this huh? You like it when Daddy fills your throat up and fucks it?” Max hisses, wrapping your hair in between his fingers, gripping hard as his thrusts gain more momentum. Thick strings of spit is now spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and onto your breasts. “You look

The taste of Max’s precum coating the back of your tongue. You’re fighting to contain your orgasm but Max’s cock and brutal punishing words are sending you dangerously close to the edge. “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” You choke, tears welling in your eyes as you’re trying to nod and send Max a pleasured innocent gaze, driving him wild. You concentrate on breathing through your nose, each time Max’s cock leaves the back of your throat for a split second, giving you enough time to take in air. You decide to start moving your flattened tongue against the shaft, rubbing against the tip as it passes back and forth. Max let’s out a groan “You’re such a good little putá for papá”. There’s no holding back now, you increase your moans to signal that you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. “Cum for me” Max hisses, continuing the ecstasy inducing tempo of thrusts into your mouth and throat. You continue to rub your clit and gesture for Max to keep his cock still inside your mouth and throat for this moment, riding the crashing wave of your orgasm, squirting furiously onto your legs and sheets below. The writhing and shaking of your body underneath him, the sound of your squirting and muffled cries and moans from behind his cock is too much and brings him closer much faster than he ever anticipated. The eye-watering sensation causes the tears to flow down your cheeks, causing your mascara to run.

As your orgasm begins to subside you gesture for Max to continue thrusting, which he does as he moves his large hands to cup your face. “That felt fucking amazing” Max moans, continuing his fast and hard strokes. Your gaze, burning with passion and framed within smudged running eyeliner locks with Max’s, his domineering yet still showing affection. “I’m gonna cum” Max pants, keeping the pace as his grip on your face grows tighter. “Fuckkkk!!!” He shouts, holding your head still as he holds one final thrust as far in as it will go. Your eyes roll back into your head again as you feel the warm thick ropes of cum spurt onto the back of your throat. It was lucky you had taken a large enough breath before that moment, enough to sustain you for the few seconds Max held his cock still inside your mouth, throbbing and pulsing as he moans and shudders, cursing in Spanish. Coming back to reality, Max immediately pulls his softening cock from your mouth and wraps his large hands on the top and bottom of your face, closing your jaw shut. “Now Swallow” he commands, bending down so that his face inches from yours. With a cheeky gaze you oblige and swallow the remains of his cum tangled in your throat, before opening your jaw to allow him to inspect if there was any left. “My good little leche putá” he whispers, before spitting in your wide open mouth.

As if like breaking character on a movie set, Max immediately reverts back to his original self, climbing off to the side to lay next to you. “Was that good for you my love? How do you feel?” Max asks, worried he’s harmed your physical and mental state. “Incredible” you pant, smiling, lying in a pool of your own squirt. Breathing a sigh of relief, Max quickly brings up the blankets to cover you both, embracing you and peppering your spit, mascara and tear soaked face with kisses. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Max quizzes, checking your chest and throat over. “No” you reply, your throat somewhat hoarse. “Okay good. I love you so much” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. “I love you too, Max”.

————————

I got impatient and wanted to post it now so I guess this chapter is finished 💀

@anaaaispunk @mandoalorian @pintsizemama

[clumsyclifford]

lashton prompt: luke falling asleep on skype and ashton taking the opportunity to draw him, bonus if someone else finds the sketches before ashton shows them to luke

meghna this prompt is from almost a full calendar year ago. i am proud to report that after all this time i did in fact manage to set it in spideyverse because that’s how determined i am. more info in ao3 notes but it takes place in the summer before their senior year of high school, so after the events of everything else in spideyverse so far

read here on ao3

-

Ashton will have to thank Maya later for the tip about the Fine Arts Room. He jimmies the door handle and, as promised, the door swings opens to reveal a darkened room full of half-finished projects. They must really take the decency of humanity on faith here. Anyone could come in at any time and sabotage any of this work.

Ashton has less nefarious plans.

He sits at his usual spot but doesn’t turn any lights on; the big windows shine just enough moonlight into the room that Ashton can see the silhouettes of the furniture, and his laptop will be on in a moment anyway. Careful of the scattered pages over his workspace, he opens his computer and loads up Skype. 

Just in time for an incoming call.

Ashton fumbles with his headphones and plugs them in with one hand while he accepts the call with the other. The screen fills with Luke’s brightly-lit, highly pixelated face. Chin in his hands, elbows propped on his desk, hair a ruffled mess (from the mask, Ashton knows) — the sight of him fills Ashton with warmth.

“Hey,” Luke says, smiling his usual cheeky smile. They’ve been texting sporadically, but seeing Luke’s face — hearing his voice — gives Ashton a fluttery feeling behind his sternum. Calum would call that anatomically impossible, but he’d do it with a smirk. “I can barely see you.”

“I’m sitting in the dark,” Ashton explains. His voice is a hushed whisper even though he knows it’s absurd to be paranoid. They’re supposed to be confined to their bunks by now, and the staff and counselors will all be asleep. The only reason he and Luke are calling now, past midnight, is because now is the only time they’re both available. “I’m in the Fine Arts Room.”

“Ooh, can I see?”

“I don’t want to turn on the lights,” Ashton says. “There are windows and stuff.”

“Are you not supposed to be there?” Luke raises an eyebrow and grins. “Ooh, is Ashton Irwin sneaking around?”

“Well, if we weren’t calling at the middle of the night, I wouldn’t have to.”

“Don’t they lock the buildings?” Luke suddenly looks concerned.

Ashton shrugs. “Maya told me that if I jiggle the handle, the door will open. She was right.”

“Go Maya,” Luke says. “I like Maya. Who’s Maya?”

“My new friend,” says Ashton. “She mostly paints. We’ve got a challenge going on about whether she’s better at drawing or I’m better at painting, since neither of us really use those mediums. Hannah — one of the other campers — is going to find something for us to both paint slash draw and then there’ll be an unofficial panel of judges. It’s pretty stupid.”

“You’re smiling a lot,” Luke says, and Ashton realizes he is. “Doesn’t sound stupid to me. You think you’re gonna win?”

“No,” Ashton says honestly. “I’m pretty awful at painting.”

“I’m sure you’re better than you think. How hard can it be?”

“That’s very rich coming from you, Mr. I-Can’t-Draw-A-House.”

“Hey, fuck off! I can draw a house, thank you very much.” Luke looks down at his desk and his focus shifts, and Ashton watches in bemused patience. As he waits, he draws a blank piece of paper towards him and grabs the nearest pencil lying around. His hands move almost unconsciously, drawing lines and curves and sketching the outline of something Ashton hasn’t quite decided on yet. Luke finally lifts his head up. “Here, see?” He holds up a piece of paper to the camera, where he’s drawn a box with an isosceles triangle on top for the roof, complete with a little chimney sticking out. “House,” Luke proudly declares. “Boom. Get fucked, Irwin.”

“I stand corrected,” Ashton chuckles. He hums. “They’ll probably just find us equally talented because painting is different from drawing and blah blah blah artsy hipster bullshit.”

“Stop dismissing the artsy hipster bullshit,” Luke says stubbornly. “I’ll have you know my boyfriend deals exclusively in artsy hipster bullshit.”

“You think my drawings are artsy hipster bullshit?”

“No, babe, I think you are artsy hipster bullshit.” Luke grins widely and then gets cut off by a yawn. Ashton bites back a very cheesy comment about how Luke should web himself up for being criminally cute.

“You know what, I’m gonna let you have that one,” he says instead. “Since I am at an artsy hipster bullshit summer camp.”

“I miss you.” Luke pouts. It’s a funny look on him. Ashton tries to imagine Spiderman pouting and completely fails. Sometimes it’s hard for him to reconcile Luke and Spiderman being the same person. That this adorable six-foot-and-change beanstalk who yawns on Skype is the same person who can do a double-backflip and land on his feet on the rooftop of any building. Ashton’s boyfriend stops crimes. What the fuck.

“I miss you too,” he says. “You seem tired.”

“I’m not tired.” Instant karma is a bitch. Luke immediately yawns again, this time much wider. “Okay, I’m a little tired,” he admits, smacking his lips like a child. “Summer break is deceptively boring. I…I run out of things to do all day, so I just kinda…keep patrolling. I might be wearing myself out.”

“Jesus, Luke, take it easy on yourself. Queens goes the entire school day without Spiderman’s protection during the school year. You can handle a break.”

“Yeah, but I might as well patrol,” Luke counters. “I have the time, and it’s not like I’m doing anything else.”

“I thought you and Michael were working on new specs for the suit.”

“It’s mostly Michael. Also, I think he’s kind of annoyed about the whole 24/7 patrol. He can’t work on the suit if I’m wearing it.”

“That is true.”

“But he’s been spending a lot of his time with Calum, anyway,” Luke says coolly. “So I figure he’s probably got other priorities.”

“Well, if you keep blowing him off to obsessively patrol the city, I can’t possibly imagine why he’s making other plans.” 

Luke stares through the camera. His shoulders slump. “Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Ashton chirps.

Luke sighs deeply. “You’re not here, Ash.”

Ashton purses his lips and frowns. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m just saying. I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. He misses Luke too, more than is probably healthy. That’s what he gets, he supposes, for only having a handful of close relationships; Luke and Calum are his whole life, and not being able to hug either one of them for even a week has been pretty challenging. “But look, it’s only another week, and then I am all yours, I swear.”

“Don’t enable me,” Luke says, affronted. “You’re supposed to say things like… ‘You don’t own me’ and ‘I’m my own person’ and stuff like that.”

Ashton blinks, confused. “Uh…well, yeah, but we both already know that. I’m just saying I miss you too. But if it’s any consolation, Maya has ruthlessly mocked me for all the drawings I do of you. Like mercilessly. It’s actually kind of embarrassing.”

“That is super embarrassing,” Luke says, with a small, bashful smile. “You’re so fucking lame, Ashton.”

“Wow,” Ashton says. “You even sound like her.”

Luke giggles, which turns seamlessly into a yawn. “Hey, I came first. Maya sounds like me.”

“Luke, babe, just go to sleep,” Ashton says. “We can talk another night. Maybe one where you’re more well-rested.”

“I’m super rested,” Luke says in a monotone. “King of restedness, me.”

“Wow, I’m suddenly convinced.” Luke makes a half-hearted face at him and Ashton makes one back. The sketch under Ashton’s pencil has revealed itself to be Luke, yet again. Shocker. It really is embarrassing that Ashton defaults to drawing his boyfriend. If they ever break up, Ashton will be fucked.

“Are you drawing?” Trust Luke to notice. Although the fact that it’s taken him this long to notice means he must be slower on the uptake than usual. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says, because when is he not. 

“Drawing what?”

“Guess,” Ashton says dryly.

Luke gives a sleepy smile. “At least you’re predictable.”

“Luke, I’m begging you to get some sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow or this weekend or something, okay?”

Luke yawns yet again. “Okay,” he agrees, right hand propping up his head. His eyes flutter shut and then open again. “Okay, fine.”

“And please let Michael look at your suit,” Ashton adds. “You know he’s only going to make it better.”

“I know, I know, I just…” Luke’s eyes fall shut again. It seems more out of tiredness than distress. “If I give it to him, then I can’t use it.”

Ashton’s pretty sure if Luke’s hero complex gets any bigger he’s going to have to start renting out rooms. “It’ll be two days, tops,” he says. “Take two days off.”

“I wanna wait ‘til you’re back,” Luke mumbles. “Spend ‘em with you.”

“You spend most of your time with me,” Ashton says gently. “Spend them with Michael. Hell, spend them with Cal.”

“But I want…” Luke yawns. He lists sideways a little. “I want you.”

Ashton chews his lip. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he says. “You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Luke hums absently. “‘Kay, g’night,” he slurs, but makes no gesture to hang up the call. He probably expects Ashton to end it. If Luke is as asleep as he looks right now, Ashton kind of has to.

The graphite on the sketch paper is smudging a little. Ashton glances down at the half-assed likeness of his boyfriend and has an idea.

Quietly, he grabs another blank page, moves his laptop back a little, and starts to draw.

-

They’re up bright and early the next day, and after breakfast Ashton follows a decidedly more lively Maya into the Fine Arts Room, where she takes her place diagonally from him at their table. They’re both mid-project; Ashton stacks and sets aside his scratch papers and pulls forth the drawing he’s currently working on.

“So? You talked to Luke?”

Ashton blinks and looks up at Maya. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks for the tip, I meant to say.”

“Hey, don’t thank me, thank Cupid,” Maya says airily. “I’m on the side of love, baby.”

Ashton snorts and rolls his eyes. “Let Cupid know I say thanks.”

Maya hums. “Cupid says you’re welcome.”

They’re quiet while Maya gets herself set up — she has to put all her acrylics back every evening only to set them back out every morning, another reason Ashton prefers pencils over paints — and Ashton picks up his pencil and starts to draw. 

“Is this yours?” Maya asks, peering at Ashton’s discarded stack of sketches.

“Yeah,” Ashton says without looking. “Just sketches and stuff.”

“Wait, this is so cute.” She’s leaning over the drawing on the top. Ashton glances up.

It’s Luke from last night, soundly asleep over Skype.

Ashton had ended the call after about ten minutes of silence, enough time to get the rough outlines of all the important shapes. The video quality wouldn’t have lent itself to a good sketch anyway if Ashton had been chasing authenticity, but fortunately he knows Luke’s face well enough — both from drawing it and gazing at it in real life — to pretend the call had had a crystal-clear picture. None of it is colored in, but it’s as obviously Luke as all of Ashton’s other drawings. Somehow, though, this one feels more personal.

“Did you draw this last night?”

“Uh,” Ashton says, reaching for the drawing. He shuffles it between several other papers so an innocuous collection of doodles is now at the top of the stack, and Maya clicks her tongue in disapproval.

“Hey, I was looking at that. It was cute.”

“Yeah, it’s— it’s just nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s adorable,” Maya says. She fixes him with puppy-dog eyes. “Pleeeease can I see it? I won’t show anyone. I’m studying so I can kick your ass in our competition.”

Ashton sighs. “It’s just Luke. You’ve seen millions of drawings of him.”

“But those were obviously from memory,” Maya points out, taking his non-answer as an affirmative and sifting through the stack. Ashton doesn’t bother trying to stop her. It’s not like he has anything to hide — or at least not anything Maya could figure out by looking at the drawing.

And in her defense, Luke does look cute as fuck in the drawing, because he’d looked cute as fuck in real life.

“For all you know, this one is also from memory.”

“You drew the screen, Ash, it’s clearly from last night.”

“Well,” Ashton says diplomatically. Then he abandons diplomacy, because Maya has located the drawing and is grinning and aww-ing. “Well do you blame me? He fell asleep on our call. It was adorable.”

Maya giggles. “You guys are so fucking cute,” she says. “Y’know, most people would be insulted if their boyfriend fell asleep on a video call with them.”

“He’s been really busy lately,” Ashton says. “And it was the end of the call anyway.”

“One day, I will have someone to draw me when I fall asleep on our Skype calls,” Maya says wistfully. “I’m putting the vibes out into the universe so it’ll happen soon.”

“Maybe you’ll be the one drawing them,” Ashton points out. 

Maya finally sets down the Luke drawing. She dips her brush in red paint, clearly intending to put it into her work, but at Ashton’s words instead brandishes it threateningly at him. “I won’t be drawing anyone, buddy.”

Ashton laughs. “But you’d date someone who drew instead of painted?”

“At this point?” Maya sighs theatrically. “I’d date just about anyone who did anything.”

Ashton laughs again. They work quietly for a few minutes. Ashton starts shading.

“Why do you only ever draw Luke?” Maya asks. “You said you’ve been together for less than a year. Who were you drawing before then?”

Ashton shrugs. “Uh, anyone, really,” he says. “People. There are a lot of pretty interesting people at my school, and besides, I’m from the city.”

Maya snorts derisively. “You’re from Queens.”

“Queens is in the city.”

Another derisive snort. “Queens is in the city the same way using ink stamps is painting.”

“That’s not even a little bit the same thing, at all.”

“You’re not a city boy.”

“I am literally a city boy!” Maya waves him off, but Ashton ignores her. She’s from Massachusetts. She has no leg to stand on. “My point is that there are lot of interesting people near where I live, too.”

“You didn’t ever, I don’t know, draw your friends? Calum, didn’t you say he’s your best friend from home?”

“Ah, yeah,” Ashton says. “Calum. Didn’t like when I drew him.”

“What, seriously? Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Ashton says, and it’s true. “He just asked me to stop drawing him one day so I did.” He hesitates. “...Mostly. Sometimes I still do. But if you knew Calum you’d understand why. He’s extremely good-looking.”

“Of course he is,” Maya says. “Any chance he’s single and/or interested in women from several states away?”

“No to both questions,” Ashton says sympathetically. “But good try.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Maya says good-naturedly, and they lapse into silence again.

It’s broken by Maya, again. “Do you show Luke the drawings you do of him?”

That’s a complicated question. No, Ashton doesn’t actively show his drawings to Luke, but Luke usually sees them anyway. Some of them are more private; Ashton keeps the one of Luke in the Spiderman suit sans mask folded up in the bottom of his socks drawer where he’s pretty certain no one ever looks. There doesn’t seem to be a point to showing it to Luke now, so long after he’d actually done it. But for the most part he’s not hiding his art from Luke; Luke sees what he sees, notwithstanding Ashton’s intention.

“Sometimes,” Ashton says.

Maya nods at the drawing of Luke asleep on Skype. “You gonna show him that one?”

“Uh, probably not.”

“What, why? It’s so cute.”

“I don’t know, maybe because it makes me seem like a ridiculous lovesick borderline creepy idiot?”

“Guys love that,” Maya assures him. “Or so I’m told. C’mon, why hold out on him when he already knows you’re basically obsessed with drawing him?” She taps the drawing. “And when he looks this adorable?”

Ashton breathes a laugh. “You have a point.”

“I always do,” Maya says, and she flips her hair dramatically.

Maybe Michael would let Ashton draw him. That would be a nice change from always drawing Luke and never drawing Calum. Maybe Ashton could just do it and then ask Michael what he thinks. It would be nice to have new muses. Ashton has spent a lot of time on Luke; maybe it’s about time he branched out again.

“Hey,” Ashton says, struck with inspiration as he watches Maya make brushstrokes across her paper. “Can I draw you?”

“Hell yeah, go for it,” Maya says. “I’m not sitting still for you, though.”

“I’ll live,” Ashton says dryly. Maya grins and laughs. A fresh page before Ashton and a new pencil in his hand, he studies Maya’s profile carefully and then brings his pencil to the page.

-

“Did you break into the Fine Arts Room again?”

“I don’t think it’s breaking in if it’s technically unlocked,” Ashton points out.

Luke squints but evidently fails to argue with this logic. “How’s artsy hipster bullshit camp?”

“Really good,” Ashton says, cracking his knuckles. His parents have told him repeatedly that doing so will give him arthritis, but Ashton suspects that’s more of a scare tactic than a fact. At this point he doubts even rehab could get him to stop. It’s the only thing Ashton can think to do with his hands when he’s not drawing. “By the way, remember the other day when you fell asleep on our call?”

I fell asleep at the end of our call,” Luke corrects him. “We were done talking.”

“Okay, weirdo,” Ashton says, shaking his head. “Well, anyway, Maya convinced me that I should show you this because maybe you’d think it was cute, or something.” He holds up the drawing of Luke.

Luke leans closer to the camera. Anyone else might have trouble discerning what’s on the page given how dim it is around Ashton, but not Luke. Luke has super-senses. His visual acuity is, like, a thousand. (Rough estimate.)

So when Luke’s face splits into a grin, Ashton knows he’s seen exactly what’s there. “Oh my fucking God, you sap,” he says. “I thought you just hung up straightaway.” 

“Nope,” Ashton says. “I’m just saving moments. One day I’ll have enough for a flip book.”

Luke’s expression goes all mushy and heart-eyed. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, fond and endeared. “I can’t believe you’re not bored of my dumb face yet.”

“Are you kidding? Have you seen your dumb face?” Ashton laughs. “It’s impossible to be bored of it.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, his eyes crinkling so much that the blue all but disappears. “I love you.”

And everything makes sense.

“I love you too,” Ashton says, struck by the realization that he does. The drawings, the midnight Skype calls, the death-defying trips around the city with only his faith in Luke to keep them afloat, the fluttery feeling — all of the colors lock into place, and Ashton can see the rainbow clear as day in front of him. He’s never been in love; of course he couldn’t tell. But there’s nothing else it could be.

“Oh, good,” Luke says timidly. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t say it back.”

Ashton glances from the drawing in his hand to the look on Luke’s face on the screen, and he cracks a crooked smile. “Then you, superhero, have not been paying attention.”

[refinedbuffoonery]

Mr. & Mrs. Claus

You should know that I wrote this whole thing just for the bad pick-up line Mac uses. And then I got hit with major baby fever while writing the end and....you’ll see.  Merry Christmas, y’all! ❤ 

Established MacRiley AU

*****

Riley’s only warning to Mac’s arrival was the slam of the front door before he yelled, “I’ve got the rings!” His boots clunked on the hardwood floor as he walked down the hall to their bedroom. “Let me get dressed and then we can go—” 

Riley met Mac’s eyes in the bathroom mirror. He stood in the doorway, slack-jawed, taking in the full effect of her costume. Smiling to herself, Riley finished applying her mascara, arching her back and sticking her ass out for his benefit. 

Mac cleared his throat. “Wow. You look incredible.” 

She twirled to give him the full effect. The stretchy, ribbed material of her off-white sweater dress clung to her body, stopping just below her knees and leaving nothing to the imagination. Her favorite black, high-heeled boots gave the outfit just a bit of edge. But the real showstopper was her coat—crimson velvet trimmed with fake fur, swirling gold and silver embroidery, elegant bell sleeves. It even had pockets. 

“This is my favorite part.” Clasping her hands behind her back, Riley swayed back and forth, watching the bottom of the knee-length coat swish like a bell. 

“It’s stunning,” Mac said, still a little stunned himself. He finally closed the gap between them. “You’re the hottest Mrs. Claus in LA.” 

“Literally,” Riley joked. “This outfit is toasty, and in case you didn’t realize, it’s definitely not cold outside.” According to her phone, the high was supposed to be 74 degrees. 

Mac rubbed her arms. “In all seriousness though, you look beautiful.” 

Even after all this time, Riley still blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured against his lips as she pulled him down for a quick kiss. 

She sat on the bed, unashamedly checking her boyfriend out while he changed into his own Santa costume to match hers. He fished around in the pocket of his discarded jeans and pulled out a pair of rings. “Matty said we, and I quote, have to return these to the Phoenix tomorrow, so no using them to build a homing beacon or something.” 

“Got it,” Riley said dryly. “No homing beacon.” She reached for her ring, but Mac seemed to have other ideas. He handed her his ring instead—a white gold band with a thin, but ornate border. 

Mac spoke in a deep, announcer-like voice. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Mrs. Claus, you may go first.” 

Riley held his left hand in hers, playing along. “Do you, Santa Claus, take me to be your wife?” She tried to be serious, but her lips curled into a smile without her consent. 

“I do.” Riley slid the ring on. Mac continued, “Do you, Mrs. Claus, take me to be your husband?” 

Riley made a show of thinking it over first. “I do.” He slid the ring—an engagement ring and wedding band fused together—onto her finger. She’d worn it before. Like Mac’s, it was white gold, but the tiny diamonds set into the bands made it glitter in the light. The engagement ring part had a princess cut diamond surrounded by more tiny diamonds, making the whole thing walk the fine line between opulent and gaudy. 

She looked up, and Mac’s soft smile made her want to melt in a puddle. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he announced, lacing their fingers together. 

“Okay.” Riley wrapped her arms around his neck. “You do that.” 

*****

They drove Riley’s Jeep to the hospital, since someone forgot to go to the gas station on his way home, and they were already late. They’d gotten a little distracted after their fake wedding. 

Mac rested his hand on Riley’s thigh while she drove. She leaned away from him, resting her left elbow on the door and holding the top of the steering wheel with her right. When Mac didn’t take the hint and started caressing her thigh instead, Riley batted his hand away. 

“Oh no,” she scolded. “We are not doing this right now.” Mac pouted in the passenger seat. 

They arrived at the hospital, hauling two massive bags of presents with them. The hospital administrator met them in the lobby to escort Riley and Mac to the children’s wing, thanking them and the think tank profusely for the entire duration of the walk.  She and Mac exchanged the same sly look they always did when someone referred to the Phoenix as a think tank.

Meeting the kids went by in a blur. Altogether too many young, bright faces swarmed the waiting room, clamoring to meet Santa and Mrs. Claus. With each kid she met, Riley was in awe of how they were all so positive and happy and full of laughter, even though many of them were so sick and would be spending Christmas in the hospital. 

The kids gravitated to Mac like moths to a flame. He sat and talked to each one, asking how they were doing and what they wanted for Christmas. They asked him ridiculous questions, like what snacks the elves like best and who his favorite reindeer was. In a classic Mac moment, he explained to a wide-eyed group of ten-year-olds that male reindeer lose their antlers every winter, so his reindeer are actually all females. 

Every time Mac walked past—which Riley suspected was far more times than necessary—he squeezed her arm or grazed a hand down her back, and Riley couldn’t help the smile curling her lips each time he did it. 

After a while, Riley gathered the kids and read a picture book version of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Pausing to show her young, captivated audience the pictures, she flicked her gaze to Mac. He stood in the back of the room with his arms crossed in a very un-Santa-like manner, chatting softly with one of the pediatricians. The rainbow lights of the Christmas tree behind him cast him in a warm, pink glow. 

The kid closest to her tugged on her coat, and Riley turned her attention to the girl. She was probably ten or so, with intense, dark eyes that probably never missed a thing. Including Riley’s wandering attention, apparently. “Are you checking out Santa?” she questioned. 

Caught. Riley cleared her throat. “Um—” Giggles erupted throughout her audience. “So what if I am? He’s very handsome.” 

The girl scrunched up her face. “Gross!” Riley joined in on the second wave of giggles before returning to the story. 

Later, after the chaos of opening presents, the adults rounded up all the kids and settled in to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The hospital administrator set it up so the movie projected on an empty wall. Mac pulled up a pair of chairs behind the projector and motioned for Riley to sit. Lacing their fingers together, Mac leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you for doing this with me.” His expression was raw and unguarded. 

Riley squeezed his hand twice in response. “Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

They’d barely made it ten minutes into the movie when the shyest kid—a six-year-old boy wearing Spider-Man pajama pants who looked like a tiny version of Bozer—crawled into Riley’s lap. The boy didn’t say a word; he simply nuzzled his face into Riley’s shoulder and wrapped his tiny arms around her waist. Riley let go of Mac’s hand to pull the boy into her chest, where he fell asleep for the remainder of the movie. 

Afterward, Riley carried the boy back to his room while Mac started to say goodbye to the other kids. They’d been there more than half the day, and for many of the kids, it was time for blood tests or scans or chemo. Or maybe just a nap. 

Riley hugged the last kid goodbye with a bittersweet smile on her face. The little boy in her arms was so young, four or five at the most. Behind him, his mom mouthed, Thank you.

When the boy finally let go, Riley looked him square in the eye. "You be good, okay?" He giggled, nodding furiously before returning to his mom.

The boy and his mom walked away, leaving Riley and Mac alone in the waiting room. Riley stared after them. That had to be so hard, watching your kid have seizure after seizure and then spending days in the hospital, waiting for answers the doctors didn't have.

"Riles." Mac's low voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "You okay?"

She blinked. "Yeah, I was just thinking about that kid."

"I know," Mac sighed, rubbing his face. "He asked me if I could stop his seizures for Christmas."

Riley's heart clenched. "What did you say?"

"I told him I'd try my best."

Riley swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Without thinking, she drifted into Mac's embrace, hands finding purchase on his chest and resting her cheek on his shoulder. His arms circled her, pulling her tightly against him.

She couldn't string the right words together to describe how she was feeling. Sorrow, for the kid whose childhood was now destined to be filled with doctors and hospital trips. Empathy, for the single mom trying her best to remain positive for her kid's sake. Admiration, for the way Mac smiled reassuringly at the little boy despite the tears welling in his eyes. Riley settled for, "I love you." She kissed Mac's cheek.

Pressing his lips to the crown of her head, he said, "I love you too."

They stayed like that for a long time, only parting when Riley said, "Let's clean up and go home."

Remnants of wrapping paper and plastic packaging littered the floor—all that was left from the bag of presents they'd brought. Well, that and the glitter. The ungodly amount of glitter that was, to Riley's horror, everywhere.

She picked up a wad of half-crumpled wrapping paper, sending a flurry of gold glitter airborne. Most of it landed on her clothes. Great. She'd be finding those damn gold flecks for months.

Mac chuckled behind her. She whirled on him. "It's not funny!" she said with mock offence, sticking her tongue out at him.

But he wasn't looking at her face. His eyes tracked her every movement, lingering on the places where her off-white sweater dress hugged her curves beneath her long, red coat.

Riley made a show of brushing the glitter off her dress, starting from her knees and working upward, drawing Mac’s attention with her movement. When Mac's gaze finally reached her eyes, she winked before resuming not-so-innocently picking up wrapping paper. Riley kept her back to him, waiting for Mac to make the next move. 

Hands locked on her waist. Mac tugged her closer, his lips grazing her ear as he spoke. "I'd put myself on the naughty list for you."

Smirking, she replied, "Oh really." Riley glanced over her shoulder and had barely even realized Mac's face was still right there when his lips landed on hers, and he spun her to face him fully. The pile of wrapping paper she was holding fell to the ground at their feet, covering their boots in more glitter.

The kiss wasn't very good. Riley couldn't stop smiling, no matter how hard she tried to pull herself together enough to kiss him back instead of bursting out laughing. I'd put myself on the naughty list for you. He said that as if he were on the nice list in the first place. They broke way too many laws on a weekly basis for that to be true. Not to mention, Mac's non-consensual cell phone breaking alone was enough to put him on the naughty list for life.

"Are you just going to keep grinning like an idiot, or are you actually going to kiss me back?" he teased.

It took all of her concentration to pull off even the most chaste kiss. A little too eagerly for being in a hospital waiting room, Mac sucked on her lower lip and slid his tongue into her mouth, his hands sliding under her coat and caressing her sides.

Riley had just gotten it together enough to slip her own tongue in without getting a mouthful of teeth or fake beard when she heard a faint giggle. Her eyes snapped open, and she saw the cutest little girl peeking around a Christmas tree. 

“Santa, we have an audience,” she warned. 

Mac pulled away, blushing faintly, but his hands lingered on Riley’s stomach for an extra second. He gestured for the little girl to come closer. Sheepishly, she rolled out from behind the tree. Tinsel covered every available inch of her wheelchair, and the wheels lit up when she rolled in a way that reminded Riley of the light-up sneakers that were popular when she was a teenager. Not that she'd actually owned a pair, of course.

Mac squatted in front of the girl, whose wild blonde curls were equally unruly as Riley's own hair. "Were you spying on us?"

"Maybe," she said with a shrug.

Mac twisted to look at Riley. I like her. "What do you think, Mrs. Claus?" he asked. "Do spies get put on the naughty list?"

Yes. She winked. "I think this one can stay on the nice list. She managed to sneak up on Santa, after all. Very impressive."

The kid beamed. She had no idea.

"Yes," Mac said slowly, "very impressive." He turned back to the girl. "So, what do you want for Christmas?"

The girl listed a whole bunch of presents, claiming she wanted to give Santa options. Mac listened intently, nodding at all the right points.

Something warm bloomed in Riley's chest as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. To say Mac was good with kids would be an understatement. When a kid spoke to him, he always gave them his full, undivided attention and took every word very seriously. When a kid was being serious, Mac was serious, and when a kid was acting silly, Mac would be twice as silly. And as a result, he could crack even the shyest and grumpiest of kids, and, more importantly, they would trust him. 

A thought popped into Riley's head. I want to have his babies. As if her body was reiterating what it already knew and her brain had just figured out, her hands unconsciously drifted to her abdomen. 

The same spot Mac's hands hands had lingered a minute ago, she realized with a start. Did...did he want kids with her too?

Riley wanted kids—she wanted kids with Mac—but she also knew that neither of them were ready to give up their job. They couldn’t keep doing what they did with a kid in the world. After growing up with absentee parents, they’d never risk leaving their kid to grow up without one or both parents. 

But when the time finally comes, when she and Mac are ready to trade in getting shot at and making stuff explode for stability and mundane normalcy, she won’t be able to wait any longer to start a family with him. 

She waited until they were in the Jeep before broaching the subject of kids. Tentatively, she began, "What were you thinking about back there when you put your hands on my stomach?" The look on his face then said he was definitely thinking about something, but Riley didn't want to assume what. 

Mac dodged her question. "Sorry, I didn't realize I did it." 

Riley knew that was a white lie, but she didn't call him on it. He'd answer honestly in his own time. Since it was too big a subject to outright ask him, Riley took a more subtle route instead. “Do you see yourself having kids?” 

His eyes widened in response. “You know I want kids.” 

That wasn’t what she meant. Wanting them and actively reshaping your life in order to have them were completely different things. “Yeah, but do you see yourself settling down, getting a safe, normal job, and raising kids?” They’d vaguely talked about this before, long ago, but Riley suddenly needed to ask him again. 

Mac was silent for a long time, staring out the front window. “Yeah, I do,” he finally said. “With the right person.” He glanced over at her, eyes softening. 

Me too, Riley wanted to say, but she choked on the words. It took her a couple tries, and the words came out strangled, but she was pretty sure Mac understood. Neither of them needed to say it directly in order for the other to understand: I want to have kids with you. 

Riley spent the rest of the drive fantasizing about the kid-filled Christmases in her future. She glanced down at the ring on her finger. First step, she thought. Get a real ring. 

[stonyiscanon]

socially awkward! peter parker x oblivious shit! reader

read: peter has a heart attack every time he talks to you because you’re too pretty and nice oof

lmfao just experimenting some new head canon//writing styles lmk what you guys think 🥺

it’s essentially a crack fic i have no regrets.

Warnings: an excessive amount of exclamation points used, overload of fluff, it might be little TOO crack-y if that’s even possible for me, a confusing amount of POV switches. ok it’s just shitty writing would you please read it.

Words: 4.8k this be a baby fic

Genre: fluffity fluff, idiots to lovers, high school! reader, god just read the title.

my masterlist is here if you want more shit

talk to me! be my friend please im lonely

 peter first meets you when you’re new to midtown and you get sorted into his science class.

you sat in front of him your very first day and yeah he’s been soft™ for you ever since

like no joke the first time he saw your face he freezed up and choked on his banana

‘oh nO NED!!! she’s PRETTY!!’

‘like, REALLY pretty!!! S H I T’

‘um,,... okay ain’t that a good thing you sit behind her in class!! maybe you can ask for her number or something—‘

oh hohohohoho ned my friend,,

N O

ABSOLUTELY NOT

peter parker has spoken to you a total of twenty-two (22) times within the whole year that you’ve been... acquaintances?? classmates?? ….. friends???

and his fat secret crush on you will STAY A SECRET THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

he’ll die before he asks you out or makes a move because there’s no way in hell peter has a chance with you, the beautiful new girl.

‘i mean, she’s not just beautiful too! she’s so smart, and i know that because i can literally see all her notes from behind her and she gets like, basically all A’s, but she doesn’t even know she’s smart and beautiful?? like, she never raises her hand in class even though i know she knows all th-’

you would think ned would be tired of peter’s ‘shit I’m in LOVE’ rants by now, he’s not because we stan supportive friend ned.

hehe little does he know his big fat secret crush may not be,, totally unrequited

👀

oKAY so maybe you have a humongous tiny crush on the dorky cute guy who sits behind you in science class

WHAT ABOUT IT not like he likes you back anyways.

that one time you asked him for a pencil he looked like he was having an aneurysm!! like okay, are you that hideous or—?

(yeah it totally doesn’t hurt at all that the cute guy you like is repulsed by your presence and seems to ignore you and tense up whenever you’re around)

(t o ta ll y) 🤡

yeah y/n kinda dumb in this because the entire student body knows about peter’s (not so secret lmFAO) crush on you

everyone lOwkEy ships it

ned is president of the petery/n shipper fanclub

that may be because he’s the only member in aforementioned fanclub but you two have many supporters outside the fanclub

ned hypes peter up everytime science class comes around and peter gets kinda confident when he walks in the classroom

‘yeah! i got this!! maybe this time i won’t stare at her hair creepily and then run aw-‘

‘hey peter!’

asjkdjejnxHAUXINENEIAIRJBSJS

ABORT NEVERMIND I DONT GOT THIS ASKXISNNDKSN

peters brain has left the building

and he kinda stares at you for a sec and runs off to his seat at the back

hm, yeah he definitely doesn’t like you

you sigh as you take your seat in front of him, trying to ignore how your love for this dork is completely one sided

the entire class wants to throttle both of you

so then for the sake of the cliche and the plot (did you heart that fourth wall break?? nvm i didn’t hear nothin)

gasp group project time??!?!?!?!

dang who could have saw this coming

totally unexpected

wow

peter is half hoping to get you and half DREADING to

because he knows if he gets you he’ll be able to spend time with you but 300% won’t be able to function and will most certainly fail this project

but i mean who cares about grades.

in a plot twist that literally no one saw coming,,,

‘betty and liz, you’ll be doing yours on atomic structure,

and peter and y/n are partners! you’ll be doing...’

oh nO

you’re partnered up with peter!

i mean this is great news you get to stare at his precious face more but you’re basically forcing him to spend time with someone he doesn’t like!!

so you turn around and you give him an apologetic and (cute as FXCK) small smile

meanwhile, peter combusts

one look at your smile and he just knows he’s completely fucked

like he physically uwus so hard he slams his head on the table

‘oh! are.. you okay? i mean, is working with me really going to be that bad?’

awkward laugh to hide the pain,, quick y/n!!

‘nO!! i mean, no, absolutely not that’s not what i- it wasn’t my- i didn’t m-‘

you smile a little sadly this time and say,

‘don’t worry about it, i know you don’t like me. it’s only two weeks anyway. i promise i won’t take much of your time.’

wait. hold up. back up here. wha-? wHO doesn’t like W HO??

‘wait what do you mea-‘

‘don’t worry about it. wanna meet at the library after school to get a head start on this?’

‘uh, yeah. i mean- cowabunga…!’

wat

shit peter has never wanted to die more in his entire life

so he does what any other normal person would do and yEEts out the classroom full speed

leaving you slightly hurt but mostly just confused

peter strolls in the library casually attempting to strain his neck 360 degrees to look for you

he looks like a chicken and also that’s humanly impossible but leave him be he’s iN LOVE

he spots you on one of the study tables. he takes a deep breath,, and walks over

‘hey!! sorry i’m a little late, uh, something… came up haha’

acting like the poor boy didn’t stand outside the library for fifteen minutes thinking about what he was going to say to you

‘no worries!’ you shoot him another one of those painfully adorable smiles and peter wants nothing more but to give that smile a smooch because damn that is a face that deserves smooches

but he also has a tiny feeling that maybe you might not appreciate it if he randomly kissed you out of nowhere

(you would not mind at all but he doesn’t know that)

‘so yeah! ready to compare the wonders of chemistry and motion physics?’ peter says, bending down to snatch his backpack up to the table (effectively hiding his red cheeks)

you snort as you prop your elbows onto the table, resting your head on your hands.

‘the wonders? hm, i really can’t tell whether you’re being serious or not. guess you really are a dork.’

you giggle a little bit before you catch sight of peter looking like a gaping fish. you immediately slam your hands down, perhaps a little too loudly considering you’re in a library, and blurt out,

‘uh, I was.. joking! making a joke, in case, you know, that wasn’t obvious.’ You awkwardly hide your face between your fingers and squeak out a small apology

‘nO! no, no, don’t worry about it. yeah, I am a dork, so… yeah, i’m not offended, or anything. uh- just, yeah, don’t worry about it.’

well, that ruined the flow of conversation peter was so desperate to keep up with

none of you speak for a bit, opting to look around the very interesting library walls instead, until peter clears his throat and brings up motion physics again

yeah! this will be fine. all you have to focus on is science, and NOT peter’s very soft kissable lips and how good he looks in his light green coloured sweater

huh

oh no

 desperately attempting to clear your mind, you try and focus on what he’s saying instead

it’s just SCIENCE, y/n. focus on the SCIENCE.

this distraction just-concentrate-on-the-work technique works for about the next hour or so as you guys study and work on this project

everything is going great!

you two have an organised google doc full of research and a finished introduction! you’re being extremely productive!

both of you are doing an amazing job at hiding your mutual (except none of you know it’s mutual) attraction!

so as you walk out the library beside peter some time later, you’re smiling softly, because even if your massive crush isn’t reciprocated, you and peter can maybe at least be friends by the end of this, right?

he didn’t even look like he detested you as much as usual today

maybe that’s because he was pretty much forced into cooperating with you because of this project, but you even caught him smiling at you today, so he must be warming up to you

which is great news, of course

peter swallows down his fear and the excessive amount of spit that is coating his tongue and turns to you

‘so, this was really fun’

you tilt your head, mildly horrified at his words

‘we need to stage you an intervention if a science project is something you classify as ‘fun’’

‘no, i mean, the science was kinda boring. spending time with you was really fun. ….right?’

oh good, he isn’t actually a complete monster who does science for fun

(he totally is but you don’t need to know that)

‘yeah! hanging out was really fun, even if we had to spend that time doing work’

you shudder and cringe when you mention ‘work’, because there are much more interesting things you’d rather be doing with peter

👀

‘yep.’

‘yeeep.’

‘so, we should meet up again to work on this… project. right?’ you’re shifting your weight and darting your eyes across the floor, desperately avoiding peter’s gaze.

‘yeah!!’

oof maybe that was a little too enthusiastic. maybe you didn’t notice?

‘i mean, yeah… yeah, totally. sounds… chill.’

oh god that’s worse isn’t it

‘great!’

cue awkward silence

‘so… um… can I maybe have your number?’

you stare blankly at him trying to conceal your excitement because did PETER PARKER just ask for YOUR number?!?!?!

oh no why aren’t you saying anything crapcrapcrap this is peter’s first time asking for ANYONE’S number did he mess up oh no he messed up didn’t he.

‘you know, for the project!!!!! haha!!!!’

oh. of course he wouldn’t actually want your number

*sigh these oblivious fucks I stg i’m the one who’s actually writing this and I want to throttle them*

‘oh… yeah, no problem! um, here’s my number’

‘cool! i’ll text you then!’

from peter p [12:48]

Hey y/n!! Um this is Peter btw. Peter Parker. From science class.

to peter p [12:49]

hey peter!

from peter p [12:49]

So if it’s cool w u do you want to meet up at my place? For the project haha, just figured a change of scenery might be nice. The library can get a little bit boring sometimes.

to peter p [12:49]

yeah sounds cool just send me ur address and i’ll be over after skl tdy if that’s ok

from peter p [12:50]

Yep awesome see u then

to peter p [12:50]

see u! :))

 that smiley face almost makes his heart burst god he’s so whipped for you.

then the panic kicks in.

‘OHMYGOD Y/N Y/L/N IS COMING OVER.’

peter spends like three hours making sure the apartment is SPOTLESS.

spends like half an hour trying to decide whether he should take down all the Star Wars memorabilia down from his walls

like, he doesn’t want you to think he’s a DORK.

(too late peter)

but then ultimately keeps them up, partly because shit you’re coming in like 5 minutes he doesn’t have time for this

but also, you’re a nice person! you surely won’t make fun of him for having a knockoff replica of the death star in his room.

hopefully

oh god if you make fun of him for being a Star Wars nerd he will break down in tears HE HAS TO TAKE THEM DOWN

*ding*

fuck

peter stands up from his spinney chair abruptly and scrambles towards front door.

he spent some time this morning with Aunt May for girl advice and nothing really came out of that except a very traumatizing safe sex talk and some teasing that he will never be able to erase from his memory.

he takes a fast detour and quickly stops in front of the bathroom mirror on his way to open the door, desperately trying to tame the mop of curls and his head.

did I put on deodorant this morning? crap I brushed my teeth right?

*ding*

FUCK

peter stops in front of the door, takes a deep breath and-

‘hey!’ a strangled greeting comes out of his throat but hopefully you don’t notice how nervous he is.

you don’t, because this is oblivious shit!reader

‘hi peter!’

peter is suddenly very aware of how long you have been standing outside.

‘oH! sorry, um come in!!’ he says, opening the door wider and welcoming you in with (overly?) enthusiastic arms.

‘yeah! make yourself at home and everything. you want a drink or something?’

‘water would be nice.’

peter sprints to the kitchen to get you some ICE COLD water in his favourite mug.

peter parker’s apartment is covered with cosy furniture and photos of him and another middle aged woman. half those photos are him and that woman smiling brightly into the camera.

there’s a photo that’s nicely framed above the mantle that shows a young peter beaming in front of a birthday cake, with that same woman and another unknown middle aged man smiling down at him. the photo is clearly old and crumpled, even with the frame around it.

peter looks so happy in that photo…

huh. baby peter is just as adorable as he is now.

you jump away from the photo when you hear his footsteps coming back into the living room. something about the photo seemed emotional, personal. it just didn’t seem like something you should be looking at.

peter comes back clutching two mugs and hands one to you.

‘nice place!’

‘oh, thanks… yeah my Aunt isn’t home right now, she’s downtown meeting some friends, so we have the place to ourselves……’

‘so we can study uninterrupted.’ he says.

oh of course, studying!! yep that’s exactly where your mind went when peter said the apartment was empty aHaH.

peter’s room is a little less adult than the rest of his apartment, flooded with polaroids of him and Ned, with Star Wars posters on the walls.

you ignore the pang of jealousy that you feel when you spot a photo of MJ and peter grinning in front of a bowling alley.

so for the next two hours you two are in peter’s room… studying vigorously.

you would be 100% lying if you said you weren’t disappointed only studying happened.

the weird thing is???

every time you would look down at your textbook to explain something about periodic motion peter seemed to be looking at you when you looked up?

well, looking at you isn’t very weird, looking at someone while they’re talking is just basic manners. but when you looked back he would snap his eyes straight back to his own textbook, nodding and wordlessly agreeing with whatever you had just said.

maybe it’s just your imagination but the way he looked at you, it’s almost a loving, caring gaze.

oh god who are you kidding, it’s just your brain and imagination playing tricks on you.

you’re alone with peter parker in his bedroom!! these things are going to happen!

‘hey you want to take a break? we’ve been going at this for a whole hour now.’ peter says, craning his neck to take a look at the clock on the wall.

‘has it really been a whole hour?’ you lean back in your chair looking up at the ceiling.

‘yeah okay. let’s have a small break then.’

peter picks up both of your mugs and heads off to the kitchen, groaning slightly when he stretches his legs out for the first time in an hour.

*a/n: apologies in advance to those with nut allergies*

he comes back with both your mugs refilled with (water for you, gatorade for peter) and a small bag of almonds for you to snack on.

‘oh hey! almonds are my study snack of choice too!’

‘yeah, i know’ peter says carelessly, scrolling down his phone.

‘i don’t like almonds all that much, but i bought a few packs this morning on the way to school.’

hm,, wHat

‘if… you don’t like almonds why would you get them for me?’

‘because you like almonds.’

blink.

b l i n k

it takes a bit of time for peter to realise what just came out of his mouth.

‘i meAn! I’M NOT A STALKER I SWEAR. i just see you at school sometimes and you always have a small pack of these to snack on whenever you’re doing work so i thought,, you know, since we’re doing WORK, i should buy some for you… so you won’t get hungry!!!’ he’s wailing nonsensical excuses and apologies by now.

huh.

peter parker knows that you snack on almonds when you study, and bought a pack for you even though he doesn’t like them at all.

maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

you tear apart the packaging and stuff an almond in your mouth, your traitorous lips slowly threatening to curl into a huge smile.

(despite how much you fight against it, you end up with a slightly demonic looking huge smile on your face, which you attempt to hide by stuffing more almonds in your mouth)

(you now look like a chipmunk)

(but a cute one!!!!)

meanwhile peter is trying to hide the feeling of humiliation by resting his face in his hands, because he literally just exposed himself. he will not be able to take it if he looks back up at your face and you’re laughing at him for this stupid crush.

to his surprise, he does not look up to find you mocking his love for you, but instead, he finds you with a mouth full of almonds, struggling to chew and swallow them all without looking like a disgusting fool.

oh.

that’s kinda cute.

after a good five minutes of you trying to force like 10 almonds down your esophagus,  you clear your throat and awkwardly blurt out a ‘thank you’

‘for the almonds! it’s cute how you bought them for me because you knew how much i like to snack on them while i study. that’s really sweet of you. i guess you really don’t hate me all that much, huh?’ the last sentence comes out teasingly, a playful smile gracing your lips, but instead of uwu-ing over your cute smile, peter’s just confused.

‘why would i hate you?’ he says, his eyebrows laced together in confusion.

‘well, i always kinda got the impression that you didn’t like me… all that much? i never really knew why. hey, why did you hate me so much before this? if i accidentally did something at the start of the year that pissed you off, i’m sorry.’

your playful smile fades a little bit as you see peter basically collapse on himself just due to sheer GRIEVANCE.

‘WHY WOULD YOU THINK I HATED YOU?’ peter yells out, probably annoying the neighbours with how fucking loud he is, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care right now.

‘you… didn’t?’ you say, now becoming just as confused as peter.

he shakes his head aggressively, bringing his fingers up to his temples.

‘but… you always seemed so jumpy around me! and you would never really talk to me, and that one time i asked you for a pencil, you looked like you were dying or something! i always just thought you didn’t like me!’

oh

my

god

peter doesn’t know whether he should be laughing or crying.

‘that’s not because I HATED YOU!! that’s because- i mean- i always thought-’ he’s still yelling and at this point one of the neighbours are definitely going to come knocking to complain, but peter still doesn’t care, because he’s currently having an existential crisis.

ohmygod all this time my CRUSH thought I HATED HER because I couldn’t function like a normal human being in front of her because of how much I liked her until i gave her some ALMONDS what is wrong with me? what kind of entity that controls the universe could hate me so much to pull THIS kind of sick prank on me?

‘wait if you didn’t hate me why would you always act so weird in front of me?’

‘BECAUSE-’ peter tangles his fingers into his hair, and he kicks his chair, sending it halfway across his room from frustration.

‘how could you possibly think I hated you??? how could you possibly think ANYONE could hate you??? you’re single handedly the only good person in this godforsaken school full of IDIOTS and BULLIES! nobody could ever hate you, y/n, and certainly not ME!’

perhaps he is using an excessive amount of hand gestures, but it gets his point across.

‘wha-? what do yo-?’

‘wHat are you TALKING ABOUT?’ you say, slowly turning just as frustrated as peter.

‘if there’s ANYONE that’s decent in this ‘godforsaken school full of idiots’ it would be YOU, peter parker!! nobody would just pay attention to what I EAT so I wouldn’t get HUNGRY during a study session oKaY!! you’re so CONFUSING! every time I accept the fact that you don’t like me back you pull this bullshit, essentially making me rethink ALL MY FEELINGS!’ you say, going through the room (stepping over the toppled chair), just to jab a finger onto peter’s chest.

suddenly both of you are aware of your flushed cheeks and your close proximity.

‘wha- WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?’ peter basically shrieks, and you would not be surprised if all of New York managed to hear that scream.

your cheeks darken as you awkwardly step back from him, realising that you accidentally outed yourself.

‘um- i mean,’ you stumble on the fallen chair as you desperately walk backwards with your hands behind your back to avoid peter’s piercing gaze.

*you’re not good at confrontation okay*

‘you like me?? wait wait, you like ME?’ you frown a little as you look at peter’s incredulous expression.

‘well yeah, you don’t have to rub it in like that, I know you don’t like me back.’ You mumble, looking away.

‘don’t like yo- OH MY GOD!’

this time peter stalks all the way across the room, looking you dead straight in the eye.

‘you better not be joking with me, y/n.’

you squeak out a small ‘no’ or something like that because you can’t really focus with peter looking down at you like that.

‘you mean to tell me, my stupid fat, nervous crush on you was mistaken for HATRED, and all this time I’ve been thinking I have no chance with you, but you’ve been crushing on me too all this time?’ his words come out jumbled, and a little fast, but you can decipher the general meaning.

peter parker likes you… too.

oh GOD WAT

he clears his throat, biting his lip and you can just tell he’s about to apologise, because peter’s a complete angel who probably doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

‘um- uh, y- oomph!’

and in this shocking turn of events, you execute the only spontaneous thing you’ve ever done in your life and pray that it ends up well.

you lean forward and press your lips to peter’s, hoping to whatever superior being there is that this was a good decision.

spoiler alert: it was

peter.exe has shut down because all of a sudden your lips are against his and oh wow this is so much better than all those times he’s imagined it happening because it’s actually happening now.

your hands find their way to peter’s curls that he was trying so hard to get under control an hour ago but now he can’t remember why he doesn’t like his hair if it’s just going to be tugged on by you like this from now on.

he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer to him, pretty much pressing his body against yours.

not that you’re complaining.

and god if peter died from suffocation right now that would be a heavenly way to go, and he would be a-ok with dying if it meant finally being in your arms.

you pull away from peter, both of you slightly panting before you burst out in giggles, resting your head and letting it fall on peter’s shoulder.

‘oh my god, we’re such idiots, aren’t we?’

peter hums in agreement before lifting your chin up to kiss you again.

 bonus: boyfriend! peter

definitely still stares at you in science class except now whenever you catch him staring he just shoots you a lazy grin

because yEa he has FULL RIGHTS to stare at you now because you’re his GIRLFRIEND.

you find out he’s spiderman pretty much immediately let’s be real this boy is not the best at hiding secrets

especially from his GIRLFRIENDS whomst he loves VERY MUCH.

this boy also gives you anxiety attacks whenever you see spiderman on the news saving people, getting hurt and shit, but he understands.

sends you a text before and after he gets in the suit whenever he can.

most certainly uses his spidey-powers for things they were not intended to be used for.

to visit his girlfriend so she can give him cuddles at any time why what were you guys thinking about hMmmMMMmmmM?

likes to show you off but also gets very blushy and shy about PDA

pretty much had a seizure the first time you held hands.

ned almost fainted when he heard the news (aka peter rushed to call him the second you left that night you kissed because these bitches are very gossipy)

peter parker is the ultimate clingy boyfriend.

……

and you love it.

your science teacher no longer puts you in the same group or partners you guys up now though.

because now you can’t study together, you literally can’t keep your hands off each other.

sometimes when peter is feeling ~particularly clingy he just nuzzles into the crook of your neck during lunch, and pulls you to him so you’re pretty much on his lap.

and MJ is just like yall r disgusTING

right in front of my salad.

in conclusion, peter parker loves you and you love him.

it’s honestly kind of sickening,

but you love that too.

[wandas-sunshine]

The Muse’s Dance - Part 1

Summary: Steve is a fine arts major, (Y/N) is a dance major. Their meeting wasn’t supposed to be anything big, but Steve is sure he’s found his new muse, and (Y/N) is suddenly convinced that maybe she doesn’t have to choose between her career and a relationship.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4497

Warnings: Nude modeling, this is sickeningly sweet, tooth rotting fluff. Smut in the next chapter

A/N: This is gonna be a little mini-series for you guys. Three parts plus an Epilogue. Song and dance inspo for the girls’ showcase piece is here. Please please please tell me what you guys think because I am seriously in love with this concept.

Classes had ended a couple hours earlier, but students were still milling about the academy hallways. Steve had been in one of the art studios in the visual arts building, desperately trying to finish part of his project for the big winter showcase coming up. He was almost getting somewhere, but his progress was cut short since he’d promised Nat to meet her before dinner at her and Bucky’s place.

That’s how he found himself wandering the dance wing, side stepping out of the way of a few girls strutting down the hall like they owned the place. Around the next corner, there was a pair of girls showing each other complicated foot work that would have had Steve tripping over himself. He glanced down at his phone once more.

‘Meet me in studio 22B’ The text from Natasha read. He was already running late, and he’d most certainly left early. But eventually he found the dance studio she’d told him to come to. He slipped quietly through the door. Music filled the small room as the trio of girls danced in front of a wall of mirrors. He tucked himself into the corner like his presence would disrupt their rehearsal.

He watched curiously. He’d seen Natasha dance a million times, she was amazing. The girl opposite her in their little v-formation, one Maria Hill, was easily as good. She’d been dancing with Nat since they were pre-teens. But the dancer between them was a mystery. A stunning, seductive, completely enchanting mystery.

She moved with such grace, such sensuality, that he almost felt like he should look away. But he didn’t dare. There was no way he’d ever forgive himself if he stopped watching her. She had him blushing to the tips of his ears, and his heart was damn near beating out of his chest. Even as the music stopped, Steve struggled to look away. She could’ve been a supermodel, a goddess even. Her skin was flushed, and her hair was slipping into her face. And the smirk on her lips was downright sinful. She was his new favorite work of art.

“Enjoy the show, Stevie?” Maria teased, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long drink. Steve’s crystal blue eyes snapped away from the girl and over to Maria, and he cleared his throat like he’d been caught in the midst of something absolutely awful. He was sure his cheeks were flaring as red as Nat’s hair, Then the musical giggle from the mystery girl’s mouth nearly turned his knees to jelly.

“Yeah! That was...wow, I mean...you guys were…” He stammered before sheepishly nodding and praying to whatever god may be that his point had gotten across so they didn’t ask him to clarify. His eyes wandered back towards the girl. Her hands were on her hips, and her smile was bright enough to light up an entire auditorium. Then that smile tugged into a critical pout. Even so, she was stunning.

“I need to emote more,” She turned and picked up her towel, wiping away the sweat that clung to her skin. “I have to keep working on it.”

“We’ve been working on it for hours.” Maria scoffed. Natasha sighed and glanced at the time. She was already leaving twenty minutes later than she’d planned. She crouched down at her bag, putting her things away and lifting it onto her shoulder.

“I really have to go. We promised Bucky we’d be home for dinner.” She explained, nodding towards Steve. Maria had already started her cool down stretches.

“I have a date in a few hours. Have to get cleaned up.” Maria announced, twisting herself into positions that had Steve flinching. “Sorry, babe. You’re on your own.”

(Y/N) huffed softly. So much for friends. She was never going to make it in the real world if she couldn’t get her stupid routine right for the end of semester showcase.

“That’s alright. I’ll work on my own for a bit.” She insisted with a smile. Steve hardly knew her, but he had a feeling she’d work herself half to death if they left her there alone. He wasn’t big on the idea. 

“You better be out of here by dark.” Nat warned, giving her the dangerous glare that Steve had been on the receiving end of one too many times. 

“Yes ma’am.” (Y/N) agreed quickly. Before Steve and Natasha were out of the room, she’d started the music up again.

As he walked alongside Natasha, Steve fidgeted with the pencil he’d tucked behind his ear. Nat didn’t say anything, just waiting for him to ask the question she knew was coming.

“Hey, Tasha, who was that girl back there with you and Hill?” He asked finally. Natasha smiled knowingly. There was no way to miss the way he looked at her, like he just wanted to look at her for the rest of his life.

“That’s (Y/N). She’s majoring in dance too. She’s really good, but she just doesn’t see it.” Natasha explained. “She’s also super single. And perfect for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like the redhead ever managed to keep her nose out of his love life. She was even worse than Bucky. She’d tried to hook him up with half of her classmates at one point or another.

“She’s really talented.” He mumbled, his brain replaying the routine they’d been doing. He only sort of recognized the song. It was from Burlesque if he remembered right. Bucky’s sister loved that movie. “Is that for the Showcase?”

She nodded, walking ahead of him like she was worried that they’d be too late and Bucky would slaughter them. Steve took a few long strides to catch up once they made it to the apartment complex just off campus.

“How’s your piece going?” She asked as she unlocked the door and called out to Bucky that she was home. Steve scrunched up his nose.

“It’s coming along.” He answered, taking his jacket off and setting his bag down. “I have to find another model though. Hope bailed on me. That alone is going to take me another year.”

Bucky laughed from the kitchen where he was working on the meal. The three of them had these little ‘family dinners’ about once a month or so. Steve rolled his eyes and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

“I’m serious! Everyone’s so busy with their own projects that nobody has the time.” He took a drink and leaned back against the counter.

“You could ask (Y/N).” Natasha suggested with a smirk. She watched proudly as he blushed a bright shade of pink. Usually Steve was completely professional when it came to his art, but the idea of asking (Y/N) to be a nude model for him had him flustered.

“I’m sure she’s busy with her own stuff. I’ll figure something out.” He insisted. But there was absolutely no way that Natasha was going to let it go that easily. She had a plan.

By the time (Y/N) got home, it was well past dark. She was exhausted, and sweaty, and still felt like she wasn’t  doing her number justice. Part of her was wondering if she was just lacking the confidence. She had heard it a million times growing up, that she had the technique down pat, but that it would never be outstanding until she was confident that it could be. She was never very good at that part.

When she made it into her dorm, her roommate Wanda was running lines, as she most often was. (Y/N) did her best not to distract her, setting all of her things down and plugging her phone in. She was in desperate need of a shower, her skin still sticky with dried sweat.

“Hey, how’s your number coming along?” Wanda asked with her usual cheery, sweet tone. Truthfully, Wanda was the only thing keeping her sane with the showcase just a month away. (Y/N) groaned dramatically.

“The number is going to be the death of me.” She sat on the edge of her bed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Not to mention that I haven’t made any progress whatsoever these past few hours. All because Nat’s hunky friend had to come in and be all cute. Threw off my groove.” She crossed her arms and huffed.

“Maybe you’re just stressing yourself out too much. You probably just need a little break.” Wanda had never stopped saying that to her, and she never seemed to tire of reminding her constantly that she worked too hard.

“You know I can’t just...stop practicing.” She grabbed her shower bag and a change of clothes. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Passion makes perfect.” Wanda corrected as her roommate headed for the showers. (Y/N) rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard that?

The shower did nothing to ease (Y/N)’s anxiety, though it did wonders for her sore muscles. She returned to her dorm with every intention to listen to Welcome To Burlesque on repeat and run the choreo in her head until she fell asleep. However, a few new texts changed those plans. She swiped them open and felt her nerves build again.

‘Hey, remember when you had to bail on Pietro’s dance and I covered for you? And you said that you owed me one?’ Natasha had sent. (Y/N) definitely remember. She’d caught some awful virus that had her puking her guts out every half hour and she’d promised Pietro that she’d be his dance partner for a choreographing class he was taking. Natasha had saved the day and stepped in. The next text made her eyes go wide.

‘How do you feel about nude modeling?’

She bit down on her lip. This was not going to end well and she knew it. But Nat had been there every time she needed someone to save the day, and she really did owe her big time. Not to mention she could use a good confidence boost. What did she have to lose? Besides maybe a few hours of rehearsal.

‘Nat, what are you getting at?’ She questioned, curling up on her bed.

‘I have a friend that needs a model for his showcase project. Thought maybe you could help him out.’ Her answer came quickly and (Y/N) hesitated. What the hell was she getting herself into?

‘Send me the info and I’ll be there’ She decided before she had a chance to back out. She’d never modeled for anyone before, and definitely never in the nude. And for something as important as the showcase? But if she could dance in front of hundreds of people, she could do this too.

The next day felt like it crept on almost painfully slow as she sat through her classes. She was supposed to meet this guy on the other side of campus 20 minutes after her last class. She shoved her things into her bag quickly, still in her workout clothes from her jazz class.

Truthfully, she’d only been in the visual arts building once before, and that was during her freshman campus tour. She wandered the halls, searching until she found the right door. One glance at the time and her worry set in. Shit, she was late. She pushed the door open, startling the man working intently inside. She flinched and dropped her bag.

“Shit, sorry. Did I make you mess up?” She asked frantically. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find…” Her words trailed off as she finally looked up at the man she was modeling for. And Steve was staring right back. “Oh, hi again.”

“Hey, hi...you’re...you’re my model?” He asked nervously. She felt her heart sink and her stomach twist into knots. She knew this was an awful idea. Nervous thoughts began swirling through her head. What if she wasn’t good enough for his vision? What if she was going to ruin his piece? What if he just hated her and didn’t want to waste his time drawing her?

“You alright, doll?” He quirked an eyebrow at her and she jerked out of her thoughts, nodding stiffly.

“Yeah. I’m just a little bit nervous. I’ve never been someone’s model before.” She confessed with a smile that had Steve’s stomach in a tizzy. “But I owed Nat for all the times she’s saved my ass.”

Steve nodded and returned a smile that would have knocked her right off her feet if she’d dared to look at him straight on. He was so handsome...not that she had much time for pretty boys and their big blue eyes. She had a career to focus on.

“It’s alright. We’ll go at your pace. You won’t be very much fun to draw if you aren’t comfortable.” He stated sincerely, motioning her over. She ventured forward and he nodded towards a pale pink robe. “You can change into that and I can show you my concept for the piece.”

It wasn’t an order, simply an offer. She nodded and picked up the robe, stepping just out of his sight to strip down and change. Like the true gentleman he was, Steve made no attempt to peek at her as she changed.

Once she had put the robe on and folded her clothes into a neat little pile, she pulled up a stool beside him. He had been working on a piece that had her stunned into silence. He had clearly put a lot of effort into the image. It showed a naked girl draped elegantly over a chair. It was so beautiful that it was hard to look away.

“Like it?” Steve asked. She turned to glance at him, a nervous smile nudging the corners of her lips.

“It’s incredible. You know, I had been worried about being drawn by someone, but you just might manage to make me look beautiful.” She nudged his shoulder and giggled quietly.

“Making you look beautiful is easy.” He barely whispered the words, and she expected him to be teasing her. When her eyes met his, her stomach did a somersault. There was nothing but sincerity and admiration behind the ocean blue of his eyes. Her cheeks burned how.

“Thanks, Steve.” She murmured. There was a long quiet moment before she spoke again. “So, how about you show me that concept?” That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he had fallen into. He reached for his sketchbook, carefully turning pages. She caught short glimpses of several sketches. One of a young woman she didn’t recognize holding a baby, then one of Natasha and her boyfriend curled up with smiles lighting up their faces. One showed just Bucky, then Maria’s boyfriend Sam (not that either of them admitted they were together). Then, much to her surprise, she noticed a small sketch of her doodled into the corner of a page. One more page was flipped, and Steve offered it to her.

He showed her how the five pieces would come together. An overarching theme of head vs heart ran through them each.

“See, it starts almost completely black and white when she’s caught up too much in her head. Then when she gives in to her heart, she’s in full color. I want that to be you.” He turned his head to look at her with a grin.

Ever since she had come into the picture, Steve’s idea had really come together. It was becoming something he thought he could be proud of. Almost like she was his muse, the missing piece. She was the heart he needed to win against his anxious head. 

“No pressure,” She scoffed playfully. She was beyond honored to be the star of his masterpiece. She wasn’t even sure she deserved it. “Do you wanna...get started then?” She glanced at the table sitting in the middle of the room and shyly twirled the tie of her robe around her finger.

“Yeah, sure, yeah. I’m ready whenever you are.” He stammered quickly. He’d been staring at her again. Had she noticed? Not that people didn’t regularly stare at her. She was a dancer, and an absolutely breathtaking person to begin with. He figured she had people throwing themselves at her feet.

“Steve? How do you want me to…” She vaguely motioned towards the sheet covered table. Steve quickly snapped back into reality. His stunning blue eyes met hers for a second before he slipped into artist mode. He didn’t look at her like she was an object there for his pleasure, didn’t appraise her naked form. That was always something that had plagued her mind when she thought about nude modeling. Instead he let his eyes wander over every inch of her before making his decision. He stood up and walked over with a sort of confidence she hadn’t seen in him before.

“Go ahead and lay down on your back.” He instructed gently. She nodded and lifted herself onto the table, laying back and looking over at Steve. His eyebrows were knit together, leaving a cute little crease between them as he examined her once more. For a split second, he was chewing on his lip, and her mind was wandering in totally unprofessional ways.

“Here, bend this leg up, and go ahead and twist your hips just…” He tapped her knee, then her hip, doing as much as he could to position her without putting his hands on her. She did as he said, propping her leg up and angling her hips away from him. “Then stretch your far arm up like you’re grabbing something out of the air.”

She looked over at him again before doing as he said, stretching for some imaginary object that was just out of her reach. He rested his hands on his hips before nodding a little.

“Would you be able to arch your back a little more and hold it for me?” He asked. She adjusted her post, arching off the table. It wasn’t the most naturally comfortable pose, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. Steve had the brightest smile on his lips, like everything was finally falling into place the way he’d hoped it would. And oh what she wouldn’t give to make him smile like that every single day.

“Do you want me to turn on some music? Sometimes it makes people more comfortable.” He asked. She shrugged a tiny bit.

“Sure, anything you’d like is fine.” She agreed. Steve quickly pulled up a playlist and started the music. She didn’t bother prying her eyes away from him as he set to work.

He was beautiful, truly exquisite. She couldn’t help the thought that it was almost disappointing that Steve was the artist and not the subject. The way his lips pursed as he worked had her fantasizing. Nothing filthy, but that was almost worse. She imagined curling up beside him and watching him draw, or looking over to him after running a number and seeing his precious little pout while he worked on whatever his newest project happened to be.

“You’re really passionate about your art, huh?” She observed quietly. He looked up and flashed her a little half-smile. Her heart fluttered dangerously.

“Art has gotten me through a lot of rough times.” He admitted. “I was a real sickly kid. Couldn’t usually go out and do much. So I got good at art.” He was quiet for a second, seeming to zone in on a particular part of the piece. It was strange for her to imagine the hulking mass of muscle before her being small and frail as a boy.

“You’re incredible, really. It’s an honor to model for your showcase piece. I know it’s probably really important for you.” She talked, letting him focus his energy on his art. But she noticed the smile beginning to curl onto his lips.

“Honestly, I think you’re the prettiest model I’ve ever drawn.” He told her, a pale pink crawling up his neck. “I mean, with your clothes on too.” She bit her lip to fight off her giggle. A hint of the flustered guy from the day before threatened to break through his calm and collected professional demeanor.

“Thanks, Steve. That’s sweet.” She mumbled. God, did he have to be so damn charming? Relationships were supposed to be the last thing on her mind. Especially with her next big performance just around the corner.

“You know, you’re really talented too.” Steve spoke after a few beats of silence. He remembered what Nat had said about her not believing she was a good dancer. (Y/N) sighed softly.

“You really think so? I know everybody says this, but I feel like I’ll never be good enough to make it in the big leagues.” She confessed. Steve paused his work. He tried his hardest to hide the disbelief that hit him.

“I really think so. Don’t tell Tasha, but I think you might be the best dancer I’ve ever seen.” His words eased her worries for a moment and set her cheeks aflame.

“Thanks. You’re really really kind. It’s sort of nice just talking to someone. I’m always so preoccupied with rehearsals, and classes, and auditions. I guess I never really take the time to slow down anymore.” She had been hearing the same thing since she decided in elementary school that she was going to make a living being a dancer. But being there with Steve gave her a new perspective. She really sort of liked the clarity he brought her.

“Maybe what you need — you can relax the arm — is someone to help you out. You know, remind you to take a breather every now and then.” He didn’t look up. His eyebrows furrowed together again as he tried to get the muscle definition of her thigh just right. She hummed thoughtfully.

“Yeah, maybe.” She was always wary of letting people into her life. Too many people meant a whole slew of distractions. But if slowing down always felt so nice… “Maybe you can help reel me in sometimes.”

Steve beamed, suddenly overwhelmed with pride at her willingness to let him into her little world. Then he nodded.

“I’d be happy to try.”

The two didn’t talk much after that, just continued their slow, drawn out conversations with replies every few minutes until the sun had gone down and Steve was satisfied with his progress. He set to packing his things up, and (Y/N) stood up and put her clothes back on.

“Thank you for doing this.” He turned to look at her as she pulled her shirt and sweater back on. Suddenly he wasn’t in professional mode. He was just Steve Rogers, a man alone with an intimidatingly beautiful woman. He fiddled with one of his pencils, sending her another glance. “I think you saved my ass on this one.:

She flashed a blinding smile and let out a bubby laugh that nearly melted him. She was incredible, and Steve was beginning to regret that one time that he’d told Bucky that he didn’t believe in love at first sight.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a talented artist, you would have figured something out.” She argued, crouching to tie her shoes and doing her best not to meet his gaze for fear that she wouldn’t be able to make herself look away.

“Maybe, but you made it a hell of a lot easier.” He agreed as she finished with her laces.

“Happy to help. But it’s late, I should get back before my roommate starts to worry.” She told him reluctantly. He nodded his understanding and picked up her bag, swinging it onto his broad shoulder. She tipped her head and lifted an eyebrow in response.

“You said you needed to get home. And my ma woulda had my head if I ever let a lady walk alone in the dark. I’m not gonna let her down now.” He explained, clicking off lights around the room. She smiled and tipped her head down so that maybe her blushing wouldn’t be noticed. She needed to get a grip. He was just a guy! A handsome, talented, charmingly chivalrous guy.

“Alright, but only because I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your mom.” She gave in, but Steve had already known she would. He flicked off the last light as they headed out the door.

The walk to the dorms wasn’t a particularly long one, and a comfortable silence fell over the pair, both of them lost in their own thoughts. (Y/N) gave up on trying to keep her mind from wandering. She imagined Steve walking her home after her performances, or after a nice dinner date. Then she was imagining him kissing her goodnight slow and sweet before she went inside. She looked over at him only to find him already looking her way.

He’d put his backpack on properly, her bag hiked up on his shoulder, and his hands tucked into the front pockets of his paint stained jeans. He hadn’t even noticed the way he was simply staring at her. He was too busy thinking about the way she carried herself. Even when she was just walking, she was so graceful, each step was taken with such conviction that it was clear she was a dancer. She made existing look like a flawless performance. He wouldn’t mind doing this more often. Walking her to wherever she needed to go, carrying her bag just so she wouldn’t have to be bothered.

When they reached her building, (Y/N) led the way to the elevator. She pressed the button for her floor, and neither of them spoke. Despite all the open space, they stayed close to one another, their arms brushing with every movement. He let her lead the way to her door where he reluctantly passed her bag back to her. She settled it on her shoulder and looked up at him.

“Do you live off campus?” She asked, pulling out her keys. Steve nodded and she held out her hand. “Let me give you my number. If I can’t walk you home I can at least make sure you get there safe.”

Steve didn’t dare argue with her. He simply handed over his phone and watched her plug in her number. She lifted the device, snapping a picture of him and texting it to herself before giving it back.

“Text me as soon as you get in, understand?” She threatened playfully, poking her finger into his very...very firm chest.

“Yes, ma’am.” A chuckle rumbled from his chest, and she appeared satisfied with the answer. She unlocked her door and nudged it open.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Night, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you when I get back home.” He promised. She nodded and closed the door behind her before he caught sight of her lovestruck smile.

Oh, she was in deep.

[reynesofcastamere]

Thrown Gauntlet[Ω]

(A/N: Sooooo....I’ve decided to start another series of fics that I will be marking with [Ω] in the titles: To disinguish them from both the main series (which I am still working on) and the [β] drabbles (which are all over the place in terms of timeline, setting, universe, etc.). Essentially a very self-indulgent AU where Savage, Maul, and Feral all get adopted by Clan Wren. This installment takes place in 20 BBY, so Ahsoka is around 16 and Maul is about 34. However. I want to state outright that the dynamic is intended to be a verrrrry slow build and that nothing romantic and/or sexual will be occurring between Maul and Ahsoka until MUCH later. If what I’ve described does not sound like your personal cup of tea, then by all means, feel free to give this fic and/or series a pass. This is getting a bit long, so to sum up: No trigger warnings, Obi-Wan is an Incurable Flirt, Rex is Flustered, and Maul is about 100% Done With Everyone’s Nonsense. Unbeta’d)  The Jedi Temple is buzzing. Not literally, of course, but Ahsoka can feel a strange vibration in the Force. Excitement, or maybe irritation? There’s definitely quite a bit more whispering amongst her fellow Jedi and the clone troopers she passes on her path to the east hangar. Master Anakin had told her to pack for a long trip, which she can only assume means they’ve been assigned another mission and he’s withholding the details so as to ‘surprise’ her appropriately. Typical Skyguy.

She spots Rex near the door, sans helmet. “Good morning, Captain.” A proper salute, quickly returned, though her tone is light. “Morning, Commander. And-er, yes, it certainly is.” He actually seems to be fidgeting a bit, and his face- “Rex, are you...blushing?” “N-no. No. Just-ah...Finished up my workout routine. Took more out of me than I expected. You know how it is; One day you’re all shiny-new and the next you feel older than General Yoda.” “Reeeeexxxx....Come on, whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

“The Clawbirds arrived about an hour ago. Captain Wren’s refusing to do much of anything until he finishes repairs on General Skywalker’s ship.” Rex caves, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Master Anakin can’t be too happy about that.” Ahsoka observes, knowing just how...particular he is about his personal projects. “Should I be worried?” “Er...maybe? It’s kind of a toss-up. Depends on whether M-” He begins, before a subtler voice cuts in. “Captain, there you are. I was hoping to speak to you.” The speaker is a male Zabrak with soft golden-yellow eyes and skin, the latter of which is liberally patterned in brown markings. Unusual enough, but he’s also clad in full Mandalorian armor, helmet tucked under one arm and carrying what looks like field medic gear along with the standard jetpack and arsenal of weapons. And he’s glowing; a defined Force signature radiating Light and positive energy like a solar lamp. How-? “Medic Sergeant Wren. They are still getting along, right?” “Oh yes. He’s in a much better mood than last time. Apologies, am I interrupting?” “Thank the Maker. And no, um. Commander Tano, this is Medic Sergeant Feral Wren.” Rex looks like he’s in danger of heatstroke with how red he’s gotten. It’s not hard to see why, especially when Feral gives a smile that could melt half the ice on Bahryn. Rather than salute her, he stretches his right hand out so that they can clasp forearms briefly, a greeting from one warrior to another. “It’s a pleasure, Medic Sergeant.” She smiles back. Ahsoka can’t help it. He’s just...She’s fighting the urge to hug him like some kind of stuffed animal toy. Which is bizarre and will most definitely not be happening anytime soon. “Tano...Oh, you must be ‘Snips’. It’s almost a shame Savage volunteered to help the younglings train, we’ve both wanted to meet you for some time now.” Wait, what? “Tranyc’vod [Sunny(star-burned) brother] Anakin hasn’t been able to call as often, but he’s very proud of your accomplishments.” Feral remarks, genuinely pleased even as her head spins with the implications. Her Master has a lot of explaining to do. “Speaking of which, I’d better not keep him waiting much longer. I look forward to talking to you again, though. See you later, Captain. Maybe you should ask the Medic Sergeant about those stamina issues you’re having?” She can’t resist ribbing Rex as she departs, watching him splutter as Feral, like any good medic, starts making inquiries about his ‘condition’ while looking him over. And placing a hand on his chestplate, apparently. Huh. Maybe her friend’s obvious crush isn’t quite as one-sided as she’d thought. Ahsoka navigates her way through the semi-organized rows of ships. Even if Anakin’s presence in the Force wasn’t abnormally strong, she doesn’t need to focus to find him. Not when he’s talking loud enough to be heard across half the hangar. “-last time, it’s fine! You’re just being paranoid, as usual.” “Every ship I have been forced to borrow from you has either crashed, suffered a critical malfunction, or was confined to the scrap heap mere hours after landing. No one is setting a foot on this poorly-constructed death trap until I am absolutely certain it won’t spontaneously combust mid-flight.” And that must be Captain Wren. He sounds...irritated, to say the least.

“My ships run perfectly, thanks. Must hurt that Mando pride, knowing a Jedi is a better pilot and mechanic than you, Captain.” She’s not quite within visual range yet, but she knows her Master is smirking. “How sad that as a Jedi, you cannot recognize your own failings, General. Perhaps you should conduct a survey of your ‘victims’ instead of this poor attempt at distraction. Mir’osik adiik be’kyorla hut’uun![Dung for brains child of (a) rotten coward!]-” “Ouch. What, did one of your horns get caught in the hydraulics?” “Hilarious. Make yourself useful by grabbing a towel, or something from Kenobi’s closet. I’m coming out.” “Ah, Captain Wren. I thought the general ambience had improved. What were you saying about my clothing?” She hadn’t been aware of Master Kenobi’s presence before this. Either he’d used a secondary entrance or had been waiting for his chance to join the exchange while the captain was busy. “Kenobi.”

“Oh come now, surely you can muster a more polite greeting than that. You’ve been away so long I’ve had to listen to recordings just to remember the sound of your lovely voice.” “Perhaps I will address you with respect when you learn to stop leering at me, besom [ill-mannered lout].” “Busted. Again.” “You’re not helping, Anakin.” Ahsoka rounds a corner and-Oh. Wow. How far down do those-? She blinks a few times, just to be sure of what she’s seeing. Yep, there is a very shirtless Zabrak with the kind of muscle definition that would make scores of artists weep standing with his back to her and wiping his face off with a towel. She desperately hopes that her jaw is not hanging open as he turns his head to survey her with one vibrant yellow tourmaline eye. She honestly doesn’t know if she wants to draw closer or back away in that moment. His presence in the Force is not a benevolent, harmless light, but rather a controlled fire that sparks and issues dark threads of smoke. This...Ahsoka doesn’t understand what is going on, and it’s starting to make her uncomfortable. “The spy finally shows herself.” He remarks, assessing and dismissing her as a non-threat within the span of a few seconds, continuing to wipe off whatever type of mess had been spattered on him. “Don’t mind him, Snips. Someone shoved a shock baton up his ass years ago and the medics never found a way to pull it out. Tragic, really.” Anakin Skywalker grins, arms loosely folded across his chest and leaning against the outside of his ship. “Ahsoka, this is Maul. We’ll be working with him and his people for the forseeable future.” It clicks suddenly where she’s heard both his name and that of his group before: Captain Maul of Clan Wren and his company are the only Mandalorian supercommandos who will actually work with the Jedi Council. At least, when they’re not busy with bodyguard or mercenary jobs. Part of that involves what is referred to -with some awe and a lot of fear- as ‘running the gauntlet’, a mandatory training course for any Padawans or Knights posted to or intending to spend a considerable amount of time in the barely-civilized regions of space. It’s been suspended since the war started in earnest, but if they’re going to be sticking around for a while...Well, the implications are pretty serious. And Ahsoka has somehow managed to ogle one of the most infamous hardasses this side of the Mid Rim. Fantastic. Really. Maul disposes of the stained towel and turns to face her properly, Ahsoka’s gaze staying determinedly on his face as they grip each other’s right forearms. He doesn’t pull back after a few seconds as Feral had, hand locking in place as he seems to peer into her soul.  “I will say this once. We are not like our evaar’la vod’e[young brothers]. We are not subservient to you, and I do not accept excuses or blatant disrespect.” A pause and a slight increase in pressure, just below the threshold of inflicting pain. “Are you ready, Ahsoka Tano?” “Yes, Captain.” She answers with a certainty that she can feel in her very bones, and is rewarded with the hint of a wry smile when he lets go. Well that’s...something. Master Kenobi clears his throat pointedly. Right. Mission briefing first. Sort out her feelings later. Still, she can’t help but look forward to whatever comes next. (A/N: *cracks knuckles* Well, that’s the first installment. A little vague on the details, but I’m hoping to elaborate on what’s been hinted at here relatively soon. The name of the supercommando company comes from the Legends novel Maul:Lockdown by Joe Schreiber. And yes, for fellow Rebels fans who are reading this thing: In this AU, Sabine and Tristan get three badass Zabrak-hybrid uncles and a fair amount of adopted cousins. (Which is entirely Savage’s doing.) I do believe that Anakin is a gifted mechanic, but also couldn’t resist the running joke of ‘Skywalker’s ships/anything he tinkers with only work for him and Artoo’. Cheers!) 

[haltandcatchfiretothemax]

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2020 #15: In which Donna attempts to compliment Cameron

[CN: food/eating]

Cameron wakes up after sleeping well and sleeping in on the day after Valentine’s day of 2020, goes downstairs, and finds Donna at the dining room table, with the craft and school project supplies that they keep on hand for Joanie’s fostered brood of loud and creative kids spread out around her. “Uh, hey, what’s all this?” Cameron asks.

Calmly, without looking up from the piece of card stock she’s folding in half, Donna says, “I was just belatedly hand-making you a valentine’s day card.”

Cameron smiles and then says, “Wait…really?” When Donna gives her a look, Cameron says, “No, I just, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you craft a day in your life, and we also never exchange cards? You said that if we started with cards we’d be drowning in them, and I agreed with you! I still agree with you.” 

Donna shrugs gently, “I know. But I saw something that inspired me. I figured I could make a project of it while you were asleep this morning, and besides, I never make anything for you.”

Skeptically, Cameron says, “Really? Never? You make things for me all the time.”

“You know what I mean,” Donna says. By that point, she’s folding the same piece of card stock the other way, to sharpen the crease. “I thought this could maybe be the one exception, the one card I give you.”

Eyes wide, Cameron says, “Wow. No pressure. You must feel very good about your concept, if you’re okay with it being your one card…did you say that something inspired you? What inspired you?”

Using a sleek little hand-held cutter, Donna splits the piece of card stock along the crease she’d made. Putting down the cutter, she beamed up at Cameron. “Just a thing. An internet post, that Haley sent me.”

“About?” Cameron asks.

“Photos,” Donna says. “Of a fully assembled lego Wall-E putting together another lego Wall-E.”

Cameron’s face falls slightly. “You mean like….some kind of weird reverse cannibalism type of thing? What about that inspired you?”

“No, it was adorable!” Donna insists. “And it made me think of you! Someone left a comment, that was the part that I wanted to borrow for my card….”

Before she can finish, Cameron is asking, “Wait a comment? Aren’t you not supposed to read the comments?” Trying to read over Donna’s shoulder, she asks, “What did the comment say—“

“Well I can’t tell you!” Donna finally loses her patience. Hunching her shoulders and struggling to block Cameron from looking more closely at any of of her materals, she says, “That’s the part that will be in the card, you’ll see it when I give you the card, that is the point, Cameron!” She starts to wave her arm to shoe Cameron away.

“Okay, okay,” Cameron steps back. “Jesus.”

“Just, you go make a little breakfast or something! I’m almost done, so you won’t have to be in suspense here for all that long. And there’s already coffee, so, you can help yourself to that.”

Slightly bewildered, Cameron goes to the kitchen, and gets her coffee. Mug in hand, she turns back to the table, and looks at Donna. As if on cue, Donna squints menacingly over her shoulder at her, and then turns back to her project. Cameron smiles, and decides to make some brunch for the both of them. 

As Cameron is starting on their food, Donna gets up, and brings her card stock and some glue to her desk, where the other part of her valentine has been sitting. Carefully, she glues the pieces together, and then leaves it to dry flat and undisturbed for a few minutes. Then she goes back to the table, and puts all the craft supplies back into their plastic container. She gathers up all the scrap paper left on the table, stacks them on top of the container, and then brings it all to the kitchen, stopping to drop the unusable scrap paper into their recycling bin. 

Cameron grins at her. “Huevos rancheros?”

Donna puts the art supplies in the nearby hall closet, and then comes back to say, “You know what? That sounds great.” Cameron starts cooking, and Donna turns on the kitchen radio, sets two places for them at the kitchen island, and gets out the tortilla chips. 

Several minutes later, Cameron is tipping their eggs onto their plates. They enjoy their meal together, chatting amiably, the valentine momentarily forgotten. Afterwards, they tidy up the kitchen, and after and only after they both wash and fully dry their hands, and Cameron is relaxing on the couch, does Donna go back to her desk to put the now dry valentine in an envelope.

She brings it over to the couch, and presents it to Cameron. “Here, Happy Valentine’s Day, again.”

Cameron grins up at her, and then accepts the card. She opens it, fishes the card out, and looks at it.

The card features a surprisingly nice-looking, simple line sketch of The Giant, screen on, cursor blinking. To the left of the computer is the text: in hand-drawn letters that look like old computer screen text, it says, “You’re too cute to compute, valentine!” Beneath that, in the typed-looking text it says “To” and “From,” and Donna has filled them out in her own handwriting with “Cameron” and “Donna”. Cameron’s immediate response is, “Wait, is that The Giant?”

Donna frowns at her in mock embarrassment. “Too soon?”

Cameron narrows her eyes, and then looks back down at the card. “Too cute to compute?”

Excitedly, Donna says, “That’s the comment that inspired me! Someone said Wall-E looking at his instruction booklet and building his fellow Wall-E was too cute to compute!” Sitting down on the couch next to Cameron, Donna continues, “And then when I saw that, I thought, ‘Aw, that’s kind of how I feel about Cameron. She’s too cute to compute.” Cameron still looks confused, and Donna says, “You know…so endearing and great that I can barely process it?”

“Right,” Cameron nods, looking at the card again. “I mean, you could also interpret it as ‘this device is aesthetically pleasing, but it doesn’t function properly’?

Flatly, Donna says, “No one who speaks and understands modern English, and knows what figurative language is, would interpret it that way.”

“Okay,” Cameron counters, “but not everyone who speaks and understands modern English understands non-literal statements.”

Sighing, Donna concedes, “…you have a point. It is idiomatic, I will give you that.” Sincerely, Donna says, “If you feel that the language used in my valentine to you is not sufficiently accessible, I apologize.”

Cameron grins mischievously at Donna, and then looks at the card again. “Do you really think I’m cute?”

“Well, not so much in this particular moment,” Donna huffs. Before she can continue, Cameron is leaning over to kiss her.

“I love it,” Cameron says, “Thank you.” 

[http-lostforever]

Tattoos a la mode

Pairing: Ot7 x Tattoo!Reader (is that actually a thing?) 

Genre:The boys find out you have sleeves, wow, how edgy. Y’all are friends but like...they like you (I’m just a hoe for ot7 so)

Warning:Fluffy goodness, I love a good jealous boy so dinner is served y’all

Make it the bad habit of only wearing hoodies or long sleeves when you would hang out with the boys, or the constant feeling of being cold. Some how the boys had never found out about the ink that heavily laced both of your arms, detailed pictures of art that are forever printed on your body, to a shitty tattoo of a cactus that you let your best friend pick when the two of you were drunk.

“Give me your hoodie.”

You looked over at the blonde haired male with a look of astonishment and annoyance.

“Jin, I hate to say this but, no.”

He narrowed his eyes, pausing for just a moment before slowly moving his feet off the couch and on the ground to stand up. You stared at him cautiously, again this is Jin, the Seokjin, he’ll get what he wants one way or another. Curling up into a tighter ball of defense against the giant man you were ready for whats to come, he turned his body back to face yours, eyes hardened with determination to get your hoodie--which was actually Namjoon’s but we’re not gonna talk about that. 

“Hyung what’s going on?” A deep voice called out from the hallway, seconds after Taehyung strolled into the large living room. Eyes glancing at Jin, then to you, and back. 

“I want her hoodie.” Jin scoffs taking a step closer

“I told you already, no. Tae help me pleaseee.” 

Quickly taking the alternate route you reach out towards the younger male and hope that he’ll save you from loosing your article of warmth. He took a step closer, matching Jin in distance now as they both closed in. With a quick step, Jin launched himself onto your body before Taehyung could react, sliding his large hands under the thick material while barely ghosting his thumb on your stomach as your shirt began to rise as well. 

The warmth that traveled from his hands onto your bare skin was enough to make you shiver, but with a yank Jin had the large hoodie up and off your body in a blink. 

“See I to- woah” 

Jin’s words cut themselves off as he stood, hoodie hanging in one hand and the other hanging limply at his side. You looked between each of the boys, curious as to what they were so surprised about, but with the seconds ticking by the two stood eerily still. 

The heavy black ink that blanketed your arms were nothing less of impressive, each tattoo was planned and specifically drawn to create a flowing story that traveled the skin of your arms, the amount of hours it had taken to finish the project was gasp-worthy. 

Taehyung flew to your side, butt landing half on the couch and half in your lap, he began to run his fingers across each of the art pieces, taking in their full beauty. As a lover of art it was expected for him to be entranced with them, but from what you could tell, tonight was going to be a night of heavy petting from him. 

Jin finally came out of his trance, hoodie dropping from his hand as he slowly lowered himself to your other side and grasped your left arm lightly. 

“How, how did we never find out about these?” His voice was nothing less than shocked, surprised, in awe, take your pick. Turning your arm over to get a look at each and every one of them he mumbled incoherent words to himself.

“How long...how much did they hurt? When did you get them?” Jin looked up towards you smiling eyes, taking in his appearance as he looked like a little kid discovering something new. 

“Well it was finished before I left to live here, and I honestly forgot how many hours it took.” You laughed while trying to pull your arms away from each of the boys, but neither wanted to give them back. 

“Did they hurt a lot?” Tae whispered, warm breath fanning across the shell of your ear as the distance between your ear and his lips was dangerously close. 

“Depending on where they are, some yes and others I fell asleep during them.” 

Jin opened his mouth, prepared to yell at you for having the audacity to sleep while being tattooed but with the sudden opening of the front door his words were cut off. 

“Guys were back!” Jimin’s light voice echoed through the nearly silent dorms, his footsteps filling the void as he ran to the living room. Five other pairs followed behind, as everyone was excited that you had come over and promised a sleepover nonetheless. 

“Sorry we were so late, it seems like everyone had the idea of getting snacks today.” Namjoon slowly began to take off his coat and scarf, setting them down on the other couch before he looked over to see Jin and Tae smothering you. 

You glanced from the two boys next to you, your arms, then to the five new boys who were all staring in shock. 

“Surprise?” 

You shrugged your shoulders upward, voice faltering a bit as each one was a silent as the two were before. Seconds passed by, each newcomer still silent with shock as they took in the tattoos that littered your arms, bits of skin showed here and there but most was heavily shaded or completely filled in with black ink. 

“When did you get these.” Namjoon spoke softly, grabbing your hand from Jin much like a prince would and slowly lifted you from the couch and into the arms of the other five. 

“Before she came here.” Taehyung scoffed lightly as you were lifted from his hold. 

“You knew about them?” Jimin looked over to the other two boys of the couch, hardened eyes gleaming as jealousy burned in his stomach from the thought of you trusting them more than him. 

“No they just found out a couple minutes ago.” You quickly stepped in, noticing the tension that was building between the two younger boys.

“They’re beautiful to say the least.” Yoongi walked in between Jimin and you, taking your arm into his hands and looked just as Jin did. With Namjoon still studying one arm and Yoongi on the other it was fairly easy for Jungkook and Hobi to run up next to the others and begin to run their fingers over each tattoo.

“It must of hurt a lot!” Hobi looked over into your eyes for confirmation, be it the intent of a comfort session or his unconscious feeling of being proud of you for being able to withstand that much pain. But your gut told you to trust your first option as that boy would use anything and everything as an excuse to whisk you away and have you to himself. 

“Not really, it’s actually kind of addicting to get them.” You shyly spoke as each boy eyed you as if you were insane. 

“She fell asleep while getting some!” Jin yelled out, apparently still stuck on that fact, but to your defense when your laying on the table for hours on end and your tired. Nothing will stop you from sleeping. Nothing.

With the quick action of the lights dimming down, each boy looked over to the switch where Jimin stood. 

“What? We were supposed to watch a movie anyway.” He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed a large bag of candy from the grocery bag, popping a few in his mouth before wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked by, thus dragging you down and on his lap as he rested on the couch. 

“Hey you cuddled with her last time!” Tae shouted at Jimin, a sour look on his face as Jimin shrugged one again and grabbed the TV remote to start the movie. 

“I suggest you grab her next time.” 

As Jimin pressed play on the remote and threw a couple more candies in his mouth, popping one in yours as well. A large hand wrapped around your arm and quickly yanked you off Jimin’s lap and into the warm chest of their leader. The broadness of his chest was nothing to joke about, nearly centimeters away from competing with Jin, Namjoon let out a loud laugh. His shoulders bouncing along with the light vibration from his chest melting into your hearing as it buzzed your head. 

“I suggest you grab her next time.” Namjoon mocked the younger, a pout evident on Jimin’s thick lips as he was bested by his own comment. You looked up at Namjoon, warm brown eyes meeting yours with a dimpled smile he slowly lifted your inked arms back into his sight and began to study them more. 

They were intriguing to him, each piece was put there for a reason as it made the story flow, the true meaning of a picture is worth a thousand words. 

“What does this one mean.” 

He pointed to the heavily detailed one that wrapped around your forearm.

“Namjoon I’ll tell you later, we’re supposed to be watching a movie right now.”

With a huff of dissatisfaction he slowly rubbed his thumb across each one, feeling the slight alteration of the ink beneath your skin. With small movements you slowly moved your frozen, sock covered feet underneath Jimin’s butt for warmth. You eyes locked with his, a look of confusion and disbelief laced his face as you only gave him a subtle wink and looked back to the movie. 

He slowly lowered his arm onto your leg, rubbing your ankle in a way to substitute for not being able to cuddle once again. With the comforting feeling of Namjoon’s arms wrapped around you and Jimin stroking your skin it was enough to make your heart overflow with adoration for the boys all over again. 

“Is that my hoodie?” Namjoon’s voice rumbled through your head as it rested against his chest, the hoodie you were previously wearing was lying on the ground in front of you all. Clear evidence of your and Jins fight, looking over at Jin a quick smile pulled his thick lips upwards, the two of you trying not to laugh for no reason at all. 

“No.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for that! You, you sneaky little. You have your own clothes!” Namjoon huffed out, staring down at you with a faltering look of anger as he was trying so hard not to smile.

“Fine, Yoongi can I wear your clothes from now on?” 

“Sure.” The brown haired male looked over with a gummy smile before going back to watching the movie. 

“You can wear my clothes.”

[vincent-frankenstein]

(OTP list)41. "Wait, stay right there- I've got a song for you" with Remile please

me? projecting my insomnia on another helpless fictional character? it’s exactly as likely as you think. no i cannot be stopped.

im sorry this took so longgg but,,, i think it came out pretty good and i had fun writing it so !!! hope u enjoyyy

it was an absolute joy to write this prompt ;3c

It was nearly four A.M., and Emile hadn't slept a wink.

He'd tried, sure. But no amount of chamomile tea and handy breathing techniques could seem to break through the fog of buzzing restlessness that had seeped into his bones. It grated against the exhaustion woven through his mind and kept him up pacing for hours on end. If Remy were there, he'd joke about how he'd rubbed off on him.

He wished Remy was there. He knew insomnia better than the back of his own hand, and he always knew how to help Emile through it. Besides, nothing ever felt quite as bad when he was by Emile's side. He'd make some stupid joke or smile at Emile with those perfect, sparking eyes and everything keeping him awake would vanish. Maybe he should text him —

Something clattered out on the fire escape, and Emile paused, eyes widening. The fire escape creaked and groaned beneath something's weight and Emile whirled around, his sleep-deprived mind instantly conjuring dozens of ideas of what it could be, and as the curtains fluttered in the open breeze he couldn't help but wonder if, by leaving the window opened, he'd sealed his own fate.

Then a figure yanked the curtains back and peered inside, and all his worries disappeared. "Remy?" he whispered, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders as he made his way to the window. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to check on ya, girl!" Remy declared, leaning over the windowsill with a cheerful wink. At Emile's questioning gaze, he rolled his eyes. "What, a guy can't check up on his bestie at four am? What kind of world are we living in?"

"How did you know I was awake?" Emile asked, drawing his knees to his chest and leaning back against the wall. Remy rolled his eyes, swinging his legs over the windowsill to sit beside him.

"I could hear you pacing, hun," he said. Emile winced, biting his lip. He'd hoped his pacing wouldn't wake the Somnuses downstairs.

"Sorry," Emile said.

"Nah, no biggie, girl. I was awake anyway, I have a sleepless reputation to uphold." He shifted on the windowsill to face Emile, concern sparking behind his sunglasses. "But you don't, hun. What's with the late hours?"

"I dunno," Emile said, thankful that the darkness of night hid the way his cheeks darkened under Remy's stare. "Can't stop thinkin', I guess."

"'Bout what?"

"Who knows?" Emile flopped onto his back on the couch, stretching his legs out. Remy snorted, shoving away one of his feet. "The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma, you know."

Remy laughed out loud; the sound nearly made Emile's heart burst with sunshine. "Mood, sponge-babe," Remy joked.

"Actually, that was Patrick."

"Uh, can I make a sassy joke out of 'Patrick?' No. Shut up." Remy stuck his tongue out and Emile kicked at him, already feeling the heavy feeling in his chest begin to lift. Remy yelped as he dodged Emile's kick, bracing himself against the sides of the window. "C'mon, girl, I'm trying to help you here!"

Emile giggled. "Sorry, Rem," he said with a playful shrug. "Insult my cartoon references and you will get kicked."

"Wow, harsh, babe," Remy said in mock offense. "Suffer with your insomnia, then, biatch."

"Nooooo," Emile groaned, reaching towards Remy overdramatically. He opened and closed his fingers a few times to emphasize his drama. "I'm sorry, don't go~! I love you!"

And that's when time stuttered to a stop, if only for a moment. It had slipped out in his exhaustion and it hung in the air between them for either a split second or an eternity. Remy blinked at him owlishly, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

But then he snapped back into normalcy. "Wasn't gonna leave anyway, but thanks for the delicious ego-boost, girl." He grinned and Emile rolled his eyes, letting out a silent breath of relief. It was platonic. They were platonic. It was fine.

"No prob, bob," Emile said with a fond smile. Remy laughed, shaking his head.

"Anygay," he drawled, lounging across the edge of the windowsill, "grab your pillows and jump out the window, babe, I'm boutta yeet your stress the fuck away."

"Wh — what?" Emile sat up, laughter bubbling to the surface.

"What, 'what?' That's pretty self-explanatory, hun. Grab some blankets, too. We're gettin' cozy in the club tonight!"

"Uh," Emile said eloquently. Remy laughed, and fireworks went off in Emile's lungs.

"Come on, Em, we don't have all night!" And with that, he slid off the windowsill and back onto the fire escape, and the curtains fell back into place. Emile sat there for a long, silent moment, before getting up to go grab some pillows.

Remy waited on the fire escape, leaning against the railing with a tiny picnic spread at his feet. He sipped from a cup of Starbucks — and Emile didn't even pause to wonder how he'd gotten Starbucks at four AM, because, come on, this was Remy — and offered Emile a shrug and a quirked brow, a smirk slipping into place. "Ta-da~" he drawled.

"Aw, Rem," Emile said softly. "This is... super —"

"I know, I know —"

"— califragilisticexpialidocious," he finished with a grin.

"That's it, no more time around Roman for you." Remy slid down until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground. "Hand me a blanket stat, girl, we're building a nest."

"Aye, aye, captain!" Emile saluted, and promptly threw a blanket in Remy's face.

"What is up with you 'n Spongebob tonight?" Remy caught the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders with a dramatic flourish.

Emile laughed, spreading pillows around their tiny picnic to start the nest. "I guess nautical nonsense is just something I wish!" he said with a shrug.

"Wig, okay." Remy set down his Starbucks, and together the two got to work, wrapping piles of blankets around the tiny fire escape into a comfortably warm nest.

Emile settled into place in the center and picked up one of the pastries Remy had brought, wrapping a Winnie-the-pooh blanket around his shoulders. Remy hesitated just before getting comfortable, eyes widening. "Wait, wait, stay right there," he said, getting to his feet in a rush, as if something had occurred to him and he needed to act on it before his confidence failed. "I've got a song for you."

"A song?" Emile's face brightened and he smiled around a mouthful of donut. Remy blushed — actually blushed, Emile noted with a swooping feeling in his chest — and shrugged, only offering a wink before he disappeared back down the stairs.

Emile busied himself readjusting the blankets again and again, trying to keep the fluttering feeling in his chest from bursting out. A song? For him? It was exactly the kind of sweet, romantic gesture he'd daydreamed about, though he'd never admit it. He let out a breath, holding a blanket to his chest.

Remy only took a few moments to return, this time with a guitar in his arms, painted with swirls of color. He'd shoved his sunglasses up onto his head, a rare occurrence — and under his gaze, Emile felt himself melt.

"'Kay," Remy said, dropping down beside Emile. "Prepare yaself, girl, your insomnia's about to be yeeted directly outta here. Get comfy."

He gestured to his side, tilting his head invitingly, and Emile's face grew warm as he leaned into him. The rest of the weight on his chest evaporated instantly when Remy shifted to accommodate his weight, offering him a fond smile.

"Focus on my voice, girl," Remy said. He took a breath and strummed a couple of notes, letting them hang warmly in the chilly morning air. "If I could, begin to be, half of what you think of me..."

Emile recognized the song immediately — of course he did, it was his favorite, his absolute favorite, and Remy had learned it for him. Warmth bloomed in his chest and love blossomed in his smile. Remy's voice was as smooth and warm as the richest coffee and three times as delicious; Emile wanted to drink it all in, as much as he could, forever.

Darkness swirled at the edge of his vision. He yawned, shifting almost subconsciously until he was laying in Remy's lap. As Remy's song came to a close, his final notes hanging in the air, Emile finally drifted off to sleep.

But not before he heard Remy's quiet voice, softly honeyed and as beautiful as the sunrise-colors swirling through the sky.

"I love you, too."

[tuanyiems]

Past The Fog

Min Yoongi x Fem Reader Genre: Fluff Words: 6k [Masterlist] Plot: When you arbitrarily join a group project, you are greeted with one of your more intimidating classmates, Min Yoongi. But over the span of the project you come to realize there is more than meets the eye to your scary project partner. Perhaps he deserves a second glance. Prequel to All Clear a/n - @yugyeomsauntmimi  I hate you for guessing I was writing this story over a dumb gif I used!!! I was trying to surprise people dammit! Anyways, it’s early but in honor of Yoongi’s bday here it is. Hope y’all like it c:

Min Yoongi scares most people. If you don’t look carefully, you’d think a scowl were permanently on his face. And if he doesn’t scare you, then you probably don’t know who he is. He’s the kid who always sits at the back of lectures, with his head on the desk or lit by the screen of his phone. Strangely enough though, he’s close with two of the most well-known guys in the university—Kim Namjoon, the smartest guy I know, and Jung Hoseok, the friendliest guy I know.  That’s how I first came across Yoongi. “Y/N, want to be part of our group for the project?” Hoseok smiled at me cheerfully, gesturing to Namjoon and Yoongi who were sitting across the room. “With you, we’d make the perfect team!” I shrugged my shoulders before getting up to join the other guys. Normally I would’ve just waited for the person sat next to me to give me an awkward look before giving into a silent partnership. When I sat down between the warm Hoseok and the ever constant, Namjoon, I was pleased to have been personally invited this time around. “Thanks for joining us, Y/N, we could use your aesthetics,” Namjoon smiled politely. I shook my head softly, naturally brushing off his compliment. We had worked together in different classes before and it was always a pleasure with the ever savvy Namjoon. “Your art is awesome! I’ve always wanted to get to know you better,” Hoseok added, his classic bright smile shining on me. I chuckled, offering him my own, albeit lesser, smile. “Same here.” And then my eyes landed on Yoongi, his serious eyes boring into mines before flickering back down to his phone.

“This is Yoongi,” Namjoon introduced. “I’ll get us started with a group chat tonight. For now, we can delegate team roles.” “Since we have to make a commercial, it only makes sense that Y/N be our designer, right?” Hoseok added. I shrugged my shoulders, nodding complacently. “Yoongi, you down for the music?” Namjoon asked. Yoongi lifted his head, his lips twitching into a half smirk for a split second. “You mean a jingle? You asshole.” “Awesome!” Namjoon chuckled before pointing his pen at Hoseok. “You’re in charge of presentation then. I’ll do the research.” “Wow, we’re really the perfect team!” Hoseok exclaimed before the class regrouped as one for lecture. The second time I met Yoongi was through a video call. “Hey Y/N, thanks for meeting us at my place,” Namjoon smiled, offering me a can of cider. “It’s alright, your place is neat,” I shrugged. I had come to his flat a few times to work on different projects. His roommate, Jin, was always out working or in class anyways so we were never disturbed, and it honestly was neat—way neater than any guy’s apartment I had ever seen and certainly quieter than my family’s house. “I think Hoseok’s coming up the gates. I’m gonna go grab him, can you pull Yoongi up on video while I go get him?” Namjoon tossed me his phone before pulling on a cardigan and briskly stepped out of his flat. “Sure, no problem Joon, I’m not intimidated at all,” I muttered, staring down at the phone screen with Yoongi’s contact already pulled up. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes and hit the video call. “Fucking fuck,” Yoongi’s first words resounded throughout the room as the video call remained black. There was some fumbling on his end before a dim light clicked on and I was faced with Yoongi in a big black hoodie, on the other side of the room to turn the lamp on. “Fucker, you knew I was on last night. I didn’t read your text until now.” “Uh, hey Yoongi,” I smiled politely, waiting for him to sit back down towards the front of the screen. “Namjoon told me to call you. He’s getting Hoseok right now.” “Oh shit…Y/N, hey,” Yoongi’s face slowly settled into a small frown as he tilted his head uncomfortably, rubbing at his neck. “They’ll be back soon,” I chuckled, feeling embarrassed for some reason, as if I were the one getting caught cursing like a sailor. Yoongi returned a small half smile, pulling on the hood of his hoodie further down his head. “Sorry I couldn’t make it,” he let out quietly. I shook my head, resting Namjoon’s phone against a pile of books on his coffee table. “Not at all…You were on last night.” I smiled, seeing his own lips stretch wider just a millimeter more. I had no clue what “on” even meant but it sounded important enough. This was just a silly class project anyways (that was 50% of our grade, but that was just a smaller detail). “Yeah,” he chuckled, breaking into a bigger grin now. I felt myself leaning in, as if that would make his lighting any less dim. “And that fucker knows I wouldn’t check my texts until now.” “Who you calling a fucker?” Namjoon called out as he and Hoseok entered the room. Yoongi broke out into a bright smile, his pink gums on display as his eyes curled into crescents. “You, you asshole.” And if it weren’t for Namjoon grabbing his phone back and Hoseok coming to greet me I think I would have been permanently star struck. Not only did Yoongi just smile, but that might have been the most beautiful smile I have ever seen. (Which is saying a lot as I’ve witnessed a smile from the sunshine, Hoseok, himself.) “So this is the research I’ve done so far,” Namjoon interrupted my thoughts. “I forwarded the file to everyone’s email already.” I chuckled, opening my laptop to pull up the file, though my eyes continued to flicker back to Yoongi who was now in Hoseok’s hands. His face remained blank as he stared into the screen of the phone, his chin resting in his palms. Between a screen, he didn’t seem so scary anymore. “So I think it just makes sense for you and Yoongi to work together more,” Namjoon finished, breaking me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen to see Yoongi nodding half heartedly, a crooked smile on his face. “You two can figure out how you want to do it.” “I can text you later to set up a meeting,” I added. He continued to nod, his crooked smile soon depleting into a tired stare. “Alright Yoongi, you can go back to bed now,” Namjoon smiled. “Wow, he’s beat his record today!” Hoseok cheered, clapping towards the phone. Yoongi answered with the roll of his eyes though he broke out into another gummy smile. “Later,” was all he said before his screen went black. “Beat his record?” I asked as the two guys chuckled amongst themselves. “Yeah, normally Yoongi just shuts the phone off ten minutes in.” “Or he just falls back asleep,” Hoseok laughed. “I’m surprised actually. I didn’t even expect him to answer since he was on last night. I already prepared a summary for him in advance,” Namjoon grinned, showing us a file on his screen. “So, is he always that quiet too?” I wondered aloud. “Only when he’s tired,” Hoseok explained. “Which is pretty much always,” Namjoon joked. “But he laughs around you two. For a while I thought Yoongi wasn’t capable of smiling,” I admitted, causing the boys to laugh. “For a while, huh?” Namjoon lifted a brow. Hoseok smirked, catching on quickly. “Aw, does Y/N have a crush on our Yoongles?” “W-what? No, I was just—” “It’s okay, Y/N, we’re just teasing,” Namjoon interrupted, saving me from what probably would have been a mess of an excuse. “But Yoongi could use a girl like you,” Hoseok chuckled, nudging me playfully with his elbow. “Maybe he’d be less grouchy.” “Yeah, if you’re into Yoongi,” Namjoon added, “we’ll be totally down to set you two up.” “Yeah, you two would match really well. You’re both creative!” I smiled, shaking my head at their teasing. “Let’s see how much I like him after this project is over.” Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged looks before turning back to their laptops. “Yoongi can stay single.” - “It’s…nice. I like the use of color in your piece.” I stared at Jenny as she gestured loosely at my canvas as the other members of my cohort nodded along. “I think your strokes could be more defined.” I took in a deep breath, looking back at my midterm painting, blatantly titled “Fog” and the muted colors across the canvas. “Anything else?” Our professor asked. “Overall, I think it’s a pretty piece.” “Alright, since Y/N was our last peer review we’re done for the day. Keep working on your project for next week.” Jenny sighed, stretching her arms across the table as we all proceeded to put away our supplies. “Man, I’m so glad this week is over!” “I know, I just want to drink the weekend away,” Krystal sighed, plopping herself on Jenny’s table. “Do you guys want to hit the club after this?” Jenny asked, sitting up with renewed energy. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s!” Rose squealed, swinging her paint brushes in the air. Johnny turned to me with a smile. “Let’s all go together! Y/N, you too!” And normally I would have insisted they go without me. My cohort and I never truly clicked and I knew they were just inviting me out of politeness. But the truth was, it really had been a long week. Part of it was the fact that I had pulled an all-nighter to get my midterm piece ready for the review and yet the only feedback I got was essentially, that it was “nice”. I could use a glass of whiskey right about now. But honestly, would I go to the club by myself ever? The answer was no. And so despite my better judgement, I smiled at Johnny and nodded along. We arrived to a club I had never been to before. It didn’t appear like anything more than any other brick building in the city, but once we were inside the dark place, lit with neon lights, the music rumbled thick in the air. The base was so strong, I could feel the vibration on my skin with each beat drop. As my cohort left for the dance floor, I shrugged my shoulders and made my way to the bar. Relieved of any other forced interaction with my cohort, I was now free to drink to my heart’s content while listening to good music. I guess it was a good idea to tag along after all. “On your own?” The bartender shouted my way. I smiled handing him my card along with a hefty bill. “I’d like my glass filled at all times tonight.” He laughed, pocketing the bill and sliding my credit card through. “You got it. How do you want it?” “Jack Daniel’s, straight.” With a wink and a fresh cup of whiskey, my bartender left to serve others and I was left by myself again. But it was nice to sip on the dark, bitter taste of whiskey while listening to music, which by the way, was great. Turning around to the dance floor, my eyes landed on Johnny and Jenny getting a little too friendly on the dance floor, but soon my eyes glazed over and fell on the DJ. He was slouched over his turntables, black hoodie over his head. It reminded me of Yoongi. He was always slouching. He also always had his hoodie over him. Such a shame though. It wasn’t like he even had the kind of face that needed hiding. I smiled to myself as Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s teasing replayed in my head. Maybe I did have a slight interest in Yoongi. If only he weren’t so scary. Shrugging my shoulders, I turned back around and continued to enjoy my drink, satisfied when the bartender reached his arm over to refill my glass each time. After a while I found myself giggling. “You’re really good at this,” I mused when he did it again before I could even lift my glass for his attention. He smiled, blowing at the whiskey bottle as if it were a gun barrel. “You could call it a sort of intuition.” “Hey there beautiful,” a voice whispered way too close to my ear. The smile left my face as I turned to my right. Though it took a few blinks before my eyes could focus, I could already tell it was going to be a sleazy guy. That was the downfall of going to a club. I looked over my shoulder before turning back to him. “Where?” I could hear my bartender scoffing from the corner. “You, of course,” he smiled, unfazed by my joke. “You look like you could use some company.” “Do I?” I deadpanned. “You want to come to my place?” he continued, completely undeterred by my answers. I had to give it to him, at least he was tenacious. I chuckled before downing the rest of my glass. “Listen—” “How about I get you a drink then?” he interrupted. “That’s alright, I’ve already got her covered,” my bartender intervened, pouring me another helping of whiskey. I giggled when he sent me a wink. The man beside me sighed before getting up from his seat, “It’s too late in the night for this.” I laughed when he finally slipped away, downing my glass again. “You are really great at your job!” He shrugged, smiling humbly. “But if you don’t mind me asking, why are you alone? I saw you come in with friends.” It was my turn to shrug my shoulders this time. “I wouldn’t really call them my friends.” “I see,” he nodded understandingly. “So you’re by yourself? Do you need me to call you a cab?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I’m a big girl. I can get home by myself just fine. Look!” I jumped off my seat to show him just how fine I really was only to feel the ground get pulled from right under my feet. “Woah there,” a voice grumbled from behind me as firm arms came around my waist, holding me upright. “Y/N?” “That’s not my fault! The floor was just slippery!” I yelled towards the bartender who was laughing wholeheartedly now. “You know her, Yoongi?” my bartender asked, addressing the man behind me. “Yoongi?” I turned around in the man’s arms only to be faced with a blurry but very Yoongi, unamused face. I giggled, relaxing into his arms now. “Hey Yoongi!” “Well it looks like she knows you. Is your shift already over?” Yoongi sighed, helping me back onto my seat. “Yeah, it’s finally over. Why’d you give her so much to drink, Jimin?” “Hey, when a cute girl hands me her card and asks for bottomless whiskey, I can only oblige. I’m a gentleman, Yoongi.” “Gentleman my ass,” Yoongi scoffed, grabbing my glass of whiskey and taking a gulp. “You just wanted to take her home for yourself.” Jimin smirked, pouring more whiskey into my glass for Yoongi. “Well, if it were to happen like that, I wouldn’t have been opposed. But clearly, she’s off limits.” I frowned. “Hey! That’s my whiskey!” Yoongi chuckled dryly, finishing off the glass before flipping it over. “You’re drunk, Y/N. And no, she’s not ‘off limits’. It’s not like she’s a patch of grass.” I sighed, placing my head on the counter in an attempt to keep the room from spinning. “Can you guys not talk about me like I’m not here, please?” “We will when you finish saying your abc’s backwards,” Yoongi answered back curtly. “C, B, A!” “She’s got you there,” Jimin chuckled. “Okay, smart one, now tell me your address,” Yoongi continued though his tone seemed lighter. “Okay,” I agreed, lifting my head off the counter. I stared at Yoongi, waiting for his clones to disappear. “Say please first.” He sighed. “You can go trip in a ditch, I don’t really care.”

“Wow, rude!” I whined, pointing my finger into his arm. “And I was even telling Mr. Bartender here all about you! And now you’ll never know!” “She was talking about me?” “Don’t look so happy Yoongi. She was enjoying your DJing though.” “Urgh, Mr. Bartender!” I pouted. He only answered with a hearty laugh. “Anyways, let’s get you home Y/N. It’s getting late and I wanna go home,” Yoongi grumbled, getting up from his seat. “No thanks, I already made plans to trip in a ditch.” Yoongi broke out into a smile at this, his pink gums peeking out. “Aww that’s nice,” I cooed, reaching closer to cup his cheek though my hand landed on his shoulder. “What is?” he grumbled, helping me out of my chair. “Your smile,” I answered, leaning my weight on his body. I let my head rest on his chest, indulging in the clean scent of his laundry detergent that amazingly managed to last in a crowded, sweaty place like this club. “I like your smile.” “That makes two of us.” “Shut up Jimin,” Yoongi groaned as warm arms came back around my waist. “Come on, let’s go. Can you walk on your own, Y/N?” I yawned, lifting my head off of him. “Hmm, I can. Do I want to though?” Yoongi rolled his eyes making me laugh. “Okay okay, I’ll use the two legs my mother birthed me,” I relented, letting go of his shoulder, though his warm touched remained on the small of my back. “Have fun you two!” Jimin cheered. “Alright,” Yoongi sighed once we were outside the club. “Okay,” I giggled, taking in the cool air of the night. I bit my lip, trying to contain my own laughter as I looked back at Yoongi. “My legs are jelly.” “I can see that,” he answered dully though the smile on his lips said something else. “Come here, let’s get you down these steps. My apartment is five minutes away.” I smiled as he took my hands in his before leading me down the steps and onto the sidewalk. “So that’s what ‘on’ meant.” “What?” “You’re a cool DJ!” I could feel Yoongi chuckle against me. “Thanks I guess.” “Is that why you’re always tired?” Yoongi huffed, pulling me closer to him as we entered a new building. “I’m tired because life is tiring.” I grinned, holding onto his hands tightly as we walked up a flight of stairs. “Whiskey helps though!” He chuckled. “You’re right about that one.” “Next time,” I muttered as Yoongi bent down to pull off my heels. “I’ll treat you to some whiskey next time.” In the dimly lit entrance way I felt a weight over my head and then Yoongi let out a sigh. “How about you work on getting sober first.” I pouted as Yoongi walked away, flipping a switch on his way and lighting the rest of the room. “Sober’s not as fun though.” He smiled, handing me a bottle of water. “True, but neither are hangovers. Drink up.” I giggled, taking a sip before offering him my hand again. He chuckled before taking my hand and leading me into a bedroom. And as I giggled my way into bed, the room went dark and I was fast asleep. I woke up with cotton mouth and a sore throat. With a groan, I forced my eyes open. The room was bare, aside from the nightstand next to me with a bottle of water and an old alarm clock. I sighed, seeing the red lights read 11AM. And if it weren’t for the fact I was in a strange room, I would have curled back in bed. Unfortunately, the responsible side of me won over this time and I forced myself out of bed. When I opened the door I was met with Yoongi curled up on his couch, sound asleep with his phone still in his hand. I bit at my lip, the guilt finally seeping through. I really hadn’t meant to get so drunk last night…or well, I did, but I hadn’t meant for Yoongi to be the one to care for me. I could usually find my way home no matter how shitfaced I got. As if sensing my presence, Yoongi stirred awake, peeking on eye open before rising at the sight of me. “Morning,” I spoke up softly. “I’m really sorry, Yoongi.” He shrugged his shoulders, rubbing at his eyes. “If I get back pain later, I’ll just sue you.” I smiled at his nonchalance. “And thanks. For not leaving me in a ditch even though I probably annoyed you all night.” His lips moved ever so slightly as he looked down to check his phone. “Your phone is charging on the kitchen counter.” He pointed his thumb behind him without looking. My eyes lingered on his profile for a moment longer before I finally headed towards his open kitchen where my phone was, indeed, charging. As I lifted my phone off the counter, I couldn’t help the smile growing on my face. Min Yoongi scares most people. Up until now, he was the scariest person I knew. But now, instead of the nervous tick of my heart beating against my chest, I felt something I could only describe as warmth. Was I embarrassed about my behavior last night? Absolutely. But did I regret it? It was a strange thing, but no, I didn’t. If last night didn’t happen I wouldn’t have realized how sweet Yoongi actually was. - “Okay, so I sent the Powerpoint to everyone last night. I’m filling the first few slides and then Hobi’s section is after that. I looked over your designs, Y/N, and I think they’re great. I think by next week we can finish the filming. From there, you and Yoongi can start editing.” My eyes trailed from Namjoon whose nose was buried in his own notes, to Hoseok who was busy nodding with a big, approving smile on his face. I cleared my throat. “Uh, that’s great and all…but are we going to just ignore the fact that Yoongi’s been missing from class for the past two weeks?” Hoseok laughed, “Don’t worry, Y/N, he’ll eventually show up.” “Yeah,” Namjoon added. “He always does this. He’ll go MIA for a couple weeks, but he always comes back.” “Oh,” I nodded, collecting my things. “Okay.” And the two went on like normal but I couldn’t get the worry out of my head. It wasn’t just about the grade. I could care less about this class. But why would someone go missing all of sudden when everything seemed so normal before? And why were his friends so nonchalant about him going missing? “Y/N?” “Huh?” “We were just talking about hanging out later with some of our other friends. You want to join us?” Namjoon smiled. “We’re getting fried chicken!” Hoseok cheered. I chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Maybe another time guys.” “Oh? Plans?” Namjoon grinned teasingly. I chuckled, glancing down at my phone for any new texts. I shrugged. “Maybe, something like that.” Yeah. Something like that. I stared at my phone for probably the hundredth time, hoping to get a text of some sort as I stood outside of an apartment building with a box full of fried chicken in one arm and a six pack of beer in the other. Me:  Hey Yoongi… [2:13PM]         Is everything okay? [2:15PM]         You’ve just been missing a few classes so I was wondering… [3:34PM]         are you free this evening? can I come over? [4:08PM] But of course, there was no reply. I don’t know why I was expecting one. If he wasn’t responding to his friends, why would he be responding to me? Which was why I was outside his door now. Honestly, 99.999999% of my body and mind was telling me I was crazy. That he was just tired of people and my face was probably the last thing he wanted to see. But listen. The 0.000001% was screaming in my head, what if this time around things were different? What if Joon and Hoseok were wrong? What if he hurt himself and needed to be checked on? And so with that in mind, I rang his doorbell, praying in my heart he wasn’t home. Okay, not really praying for him to not be home. Of course I wanted to know that he was at least safe and sound. That’s the whole reason I was here. So when a minute passed and no one came to the door, a chill of anxiety ran down my spine and I rang the doorbell five more times. Relief washed over quickly once the door opened though. Yoongi frowned, opening his door just a crack. He looked at me up and down with tired eyes and I could only smile back sheepishly. I raised the box of food up. “Chicken and beer?” Yoongi let out a very audible sigh before walking away from the door. I smiled, taking the sliver of opening as an invitation in. I chuckled, following quickly behind. Yoongi was dressed casually in an oversized white t-shirt and black sweats. It was strange not seeing him in a hoodie. And the back of his head showed clear signs of bed hair. “Did you just wake up Yoongi?” I asked, setting the food down on his living room floor. “Says the girl that woke me up,” he grumbled under his breath. But despite his frown, he came back from the kitchen with plates and cups. I smiled, opening the box of chicken and popping open a can of beer. I handed it to Yoongi. “Figured I should share good food, you know? And I just happened to be near your apartment.” He rolled his eyes, plopping himself onto the floor beside me. “You have good memory for a drunk.” I grinned, raising my can to his. “I drink to remember, not to forget.” “That doesn’t sound very fun,” he mumbled, clinking his can with mines. I laughed, placing a piece of chicken on his plate before grabbing a drumstick. “I’m sorry I woke you up Yoongi. I was worried though.” He bit into his chicken quietly before shrugging. “It’s alright, it was just another depression nap. I had to wake up soon anyways.” “You don’t have to go to work tonight, do you?” When he shook his head, I smiled in relief. “Good, I can’t finish all this food by myself,” I chuckled. His lips curved ever so slightly before he covered it with the sip of his beer. He let out another sigh. “I can’t even remember the last time I had a full meal like this.” I frowned at his words before placing more chicken on his plate. “Here, have some more. Next time I’ll bring some healthier food. But this is good food for the soul.” I laughed at my own words. Yoongi only looked at me with a raised brow. “Next time?” I smiled cheekily, nodding my head. “Well yeah, if you keep ignoring others, we’re bound to worry. I know we aren’t very close…and I’m not usually someone that would stick my nose in other people’s business…” I shrugged, chuckling out of embarrassment. “But I don’t know, I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t come check on you.” He nodded his head quietly, continuing to eat as I spoke. “I…” I bit at my lips cautiously as he continued to eat without ever looking up. “This might sound weird since we don’t know each other much but well…I guess I could say the same about you. You didn’t really know me but you helped me when I was drunk.” “But not drunk enough to forget the directions to my house,” Yoongi deadpanned, making me break out into a smile. “But you’re eating my chicken now, so quit complaining,” I countered. I grinned seeing him break out into a smile. “Anyways I just wanted to say that you’ll make people worried if you just disappear like this. It would be helpful if you could at least send a text.” “Okay, okay, I get it,” Yoongi finally huffed, sticking a wing into my mouth. “Now eat your chicken before I finish it all!” I giggled, chewing obligingly. After cleaning away all the chicken scraps, we sipped at our beers slowly. I looked at Yoongi, his eyes still drooping with exhaustion. At least there was more color in his face. I wondered if that was the beer working its way into his system. “What?” Yoongi looked me. I shrugged, swirling my beer as if I hadn’t just been staring at his face. “Nothing.” “You’re a real weirdo, Y/N.” I chuckled, turning to him again. “It’s your fault, you let me in.” “Only because of your good taste in alcohol,” Yoongi smiled softly. I smiled, scooting closer. “Next time, I really will treat you to whiskey!” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Your memory is really uncanny.” I chugged the rest of my beer before setting it down. “But seriously, if you ever need help with anything, like assignments, or if you just want to talk, I’ve got you—with whiskey or whatever kind of beverage you want. I mean it. I supervise one of the campus art studios but no one ever comes so I’m always on my own. So if you ever find yourself wanting to escape or you just want some quiet company, I’m here.” Yoongi nodded quietly before putting his can down too. “I have a studio too. In my apartment.” “You do?” I smiled along, knowing very well he had just changed the subject. Yoongi got up and I followed along as he led me to one of the back rooms in his apartment. Sure enough, there was a small office filled with music and recording equipment. “So that’s why Namjoon asked you to make the jingle,” I realized. Yoongi scoffed, taking a seat at the desk and opening his laptop. “That fucker was just pulling my leg.” I stood next to him, bending over to look at the files on his screen. “Can I hear something?” Yoongi rubbed at the back of his neck before scrolling down his list of files. “I don’t know…here, this is one of the jingles I made.” He clicked on the file, adjusting his sound before settling in his seat, his head resting on his hands with a look of boredom. But I could only open my mouth in silent awe as the beat resounded throughout the room. “Yoongi,” I whispered as the music came to an end. “That sounds too good to be wasted on a dumb school project.” He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s really not. I’ll work on it more.” I looked at him, smiling. “If we don’t get an A with this, I’m sending our professor to get his ears checked.” Yoongi only smiled to himself shyly. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to work then,” I finally spoke up after a moment of silence. “Let’s meet again and discuss the project properly then.” Yoongi nodded before getting up from his seat. “Next time don’t come knocking on my door at weird hours.” “6PM is not a weird hour Yoongi,” I argued. I grinned mischievously at him. “What if I bring whiskey with me next time?” He rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. And with that I was on my way back to my own apartment. Yoongi:      thx Y/N [9:40PM] for food and waking me to get work done [9:43PM] ur a good weirdo [9:55PM] - I sat in the quiet of my studio, staring at my midterm painting for what seemed like the thousandth hour. Yet again, no one was using this studio, which I had figured when I took on the job. Everyone else preferred to use the studio that Jenny used. Not that it was the bad thing, I liked that I had a whole studio to myself. “You’ve been staring at that for a long time.” I jerked around to see Yoongi leaning on the door frame. He gave me a small smile before lifting his hand, revealing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. I laughed. “Perfect.” “Courtesy of Jimin,” Yoongi added before taking a seat beside me. I chuckled, taking the bottle into my own hands. “Tell Mr. Bartender thanks then.” I got up to get mugs out of the cabinets. I smiled, handing Yoongi a mug. “Sunshine Club,” Yoongi read the cup aloud. “Sounds just like me.” I chuckled, pouring a generous amount into our mugs. “You mean a cup full of whiskey? Yes, it does.” “This is nice,” Yoongi commented, gesturing to my painting. I sighed at the sound of nice again. Yoongi sipped at his whiskey. “In a, you know, sucky, feels like shit kinda nice.” I broke out into a laugh. “Yeah? How so?” His eyes lingered on the canvas. “It feels confusing, like something is just beyond the blur, but I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a scary thing. And that’s fucking anxiety-inducing,” he chuckled, taking another sip. “But fuck, that’s kinda comforting too…to think someone else is thinking the same thing as me.” I smiled. “Can you join the fine art’s department, Yoongi?” “Not enjoying yourself here?” I shrugged, finishing my mug of whiskey. He poured me more quietly. I smiled, waiting for his eyes to meet mine. “It’s better now that you’ve come.” A smile flashed across his face as he rubbed at his neck shyly. “Anyways, what’s it called?” I sighed, looking back at my own painting. “Fog.” “Hmm, fitting.” A quietness settled around us as we stared at my canvas, lost in our own thoughts. “How’s your music coming along?” I finally asked, breaking the silence. He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s going and then it’s not. It cycles over and over.” “It was already so good when I heard it last,” I smiled softly. “I’m glad you let me hear some of it.” “Glad?” “Yeah,” I chuckled. “So when you become famous, I can tell everyone I heard your music first.” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, a lopsided smile stamped over his face again. “Whatever.” “And I’m glad,” I added, “because the same way you described my painting is the same way I feel about your music. It’s comforting. Plus, as a fellow artist, I know how scary it is to share your work. Thanks for trusting me.” There was another silence before Yoongi took my empty mug and walked over to the sink. “Thanks,” he spoke softly, his back to me, “for coming to me that day. No one’s ever done that…checking on me to see if I’m okay. I didn’t think I needed it until, well, until you showed me I did.” Most people think Min Yoongi is scary. People see the scowl on his face and look away too quickly. Now seeing the small of his back, bent over the studio sink, I know now Min Yoongi is not scary. He’s only human. And people are so busy looking away, they missed the sweet smile that graces his lips and the way his shoulders squeeze together, shivering softly when he laughs. And if I had been one of those people, I would have missed the tired look in his eyes, the heavy bags that carried the weight of his dreams and worries. I’m glad I wasn’t. “What?” Yoongi glared my way as he turned around to see me staring at him. “Stop looking at me like that.” I shook my head, smiling. “No Yoongi, I’m glad I came that day too. Now you’ll always know where to find me, and I’ll know where to find you. We’ve got each other.” - Thanks for reading! [Masterlist] Prequel to All Clear

[queen-rogah]

Chasing Dreams - Part 1

Summary:  In the year of 1971, you dreamed to be the best musician/performer that you’ll ever be. And upon achieving your dream, you have met the four musicians that would surprisingly help you to chase your dreams. The story of you and the rising band is deeply life-changing, and even finding love would get in the way, but all you have to do in chasing those dreams is to always face the consequences…

Warnings: fluff, language

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Note: Finally, the first part of the Queen series! I will be opening a taglist for this series so let me know! Aaaand this is just a small fic series, maybe in over 10 to 15 parts I guess? Who knows…

♡♡♡ PART ONE: “PROLOGUE” ♡♡♡

The band before them were hyping up the audience. People holding a cup of their beers and feeling the vibe of their music. He can hear the faint noises of Lola’s western accent, with an electric guitar playing in the background. The pub was jam packed, especially right now on Fridays where teenagers will sneak out of their houses, never telling their parents they will go out and do stuffs that aren’t supposed to be done in their age and regular adults just want to have a good time. The van they are using are parked at the back of the pub while they are standing here, the four of them, the lead singer is breathing in and out since this is his first gig as the new frontman, the blond drummer smoking his cigarette, finished it within minutes as he flicked it off his fingers, stomping it with his old converse shoes, then his eyes trained over to the bassist–the youngest one–also the new one of the group, he’s leaning his back on the wall and also a bit nervous like the singer.

The door opened to see Dixon, the one who is running this pub, and also a great man, “You boys are up in five. Instruments are already onstage, only give the people what they want…”

“On it Dix.” Brian smiles at Dixon before he got inside again.

The guitarist pushed himself off the van, where he’s leaning his back on and faced the new group. The two fresh faces of Smile, hoping to be successful. “You guys ready?.”

“Ready.” Freddie nods his head and the band got inside the pub, getting their nervousness off in the backstage. Just in time Lola’s band came inside, her bleached hair was up in a ponytail as she stares at the band before her.

“Look who it is, the band that is striving to get to the top.” Lola snickers as her group chuckles at her remark, she soon stood close to Brian, chin up. “Listen up May, we’ll still be the crowds favorite band nowadays, and now Tim left the band as you’re still trying hard to get your band together. Isn’t it the perfect time to give up already?.”

He swear he hate this 20 year old singer who’s too full of herself. Too bad he doesn’t hit a child like her.

“Listen up here too Lola, we may be striving but you don’t know what’s ahead of us. Don’t be too confident to yourself. You don’t know us, you don’t know Smile. Now step back.” Brian backfires, gripping on his guitar before getting onstage with Roger and John then Freddie came on struting his way at the front, where the people started to stare at him. Surprised at him being in Smile.

“We got a few fresh faces in here,” Brian spoke through the microphone as he picks up his guitar, “That’s John Deacon and this is Freddie…Bulsara.”

“Hello you beautiful people.” Freddie spoke through the microphone. Even bending down on it since it’s too short for him.

The people are quiet. Still astonished.

“Where’s Tim? Who’s the pakkie?.” Someone yelled from the crowd, several people also agreeing on him. Freddie have a straight smile on his face, Brian came to look at Roger who’s fuming while getting ready with his drumsticks and then his eyes dropped on Lola, who’s laughing under her breath, feeling the enthusiasm on what’s happening on them.

Then Brian catches Freddie as he looks back to him, “Let’s do it.” He mumbles to the guitarist as his riff started.

Then Roger’s part, then John’s…

And Freddie starts to sing, picking up the tambourine laying by the drums. He gripped the microphone, to pull it up to match his height, but he can’t. Brian felt worried to Freddie, hearing Lola’s snickering at the back again in watching the singer struggling in the microphone, and when Freddie pulls it up, he broke it. Only getting half of it, but he found a way to make it better as he started to play the tambourine, playing around with the beat. While he’s singing and feeling the presence of it, Brian notices that Freddie was singing the wrong lyrics, that’s why he’s shaking his head. Freddie came to him, grooving his body on the heavy vibe of the song. Brian kept saying to him that’s he’s singing the wrong lyrics, but that doesn’t stop Freddie.

But when Brian looks over to the crowd to see they are actually feeling the music, of how Freddie delivered it. Some people are staring at Freddie in awe, while he shakes the tambourine in his hand. He look back to Roger as the drummer shot him a smile while playing the drums.

This is the start of the new Smile.

…

The gig ended with the band enjoying themselves in the pub. Freddie ordered several pints of lager as he forces the boys to celebrate and be drunk throughout the night. He have his arms around his girlfriend, Victoria, who he met down in their stall in Kensington Market. Roger didn’t have any girl today, but he have his eyes on this brunette wandering around the pub. Brian and John are just sipping down on their drinks, and order another glass, then another and then another.

“You know what Bri,” Roger spoke while stealing a cigarette from Freddie, “I still didn’t see you look at some girl all my life.”

“I guess I have a certain type Rog,” Brian replied, finishing off his drink as he sets down on the table.

“A certain type of a girl is bullshit Brian, there are a lot of beautiful women around town. You need to be laid.” Freddie chuckles, Victoria also giggled in his arms.

“Fuck off Fred,” Brian shrugs as he laughs, drinking on John’s drink that he didn’t finished. He noticed Roger is now actually speaking to this girl by the bar, but she looked uninterested with Roger leaning over her as they talked. Then her eyes suddenly dropped on their table, but her eyes are on Brian, who noticed her stare first. He watch her turn her look to Roger again before she whispered something in his ear.

Roger turn his heel around from her as he walk back to the table, his eyes burning right through Brian. “She’s expecting you Brian.” Roger huffed as he sat down his chair.

Brian’s eyes slowly widened, “What? Me?.” He made sure.

“No, she’s expecting Deaky,” Roger sarcastically said, “Yes you Brian, she wants you.”

Roger have been rejected by this girl, just to talk to Brian instead. Which made Freddie smirk at him, telling him to go to the girl. Brian fixed himself before leaving the table, patting Roger’s tensed shoulders as he smokes. He walk up to the girl, who is facing the other way as he stood beside her. When he felt her turn around, Brian’s heart was racing.

“Wow, you’re here. I thought you got no interest in me.” She speak. Brian looked down her then put up a small smile.

“I just don’t want to abandon a girl who’s been expecting me,” Brian chuckles, “And you just rejected my friend, who is the ladies man. First time to be rejected though.”

“Oh really?.” She blinked her eyes.

“Yeah.” Brian replies. He feels comfortable with her now, and how he stare down on her is creating this unique tension between them.

“Your friend isn’t my type and when I saw you back there, I know you’re different from anyone else in this room.” She said as she drank on her drink. No woman didn’t say that to Brian, that’s why he’s definitely blushing as he looks away, trying to her avoid him looking flushed.

“What’s your name by the way?.” Brian asked.

“Rosalie…” She replied with that beautiful toothy grin as they shake hands together. In the back of Brian’s head, he thinks that this girl, who is holding his hands is the one for him.

“And yours?.” She still didn’t pull her hand away, their hands stopped shaking as they are just holding each other.

“Brian.” He smiles.

…

The school bell rings as you left your room with your bag and then your guitar case. Your dark suede platforms are clicking on the marbled floor of this university, going straight out of this building as you see the sun began to set. You’re beyond happy that this is gonna be the last year in college, so you’re doing your actual best in earning the diploma, having the degree you wanted and making your parents proud. You took a tight grip on your guitar case as you started walking back to your house, be greeted by some class friends outside with their group of friends. You abruptly stopped in your tracks to suddenly see him, leaning on his black Chevrolet, he’s wearing that dark leather jacket that matches his hazelnut eyes that you loved to look at whenever he’s passing through you in the hallways of the campus. But you see the girl that he’s been seeing this week walking towards him as he gave her a hungry kiss, the kiss that you wanted all your life.

You sadly look away, continuing in walking forwards again as you stopped again to hear him call your name, “Hey! Y/N!.” He calls.

Your grip in your guitar case tightens as you turn your heel around, seeing him jogging up to you, “William, w-what’s up?.” You stammer, hands scratching the back of your neck.

You kept making contact with his girlfriend waiting up by his car. This is making you a bit anxious. Maybe she’ll hate you for this.

“There’s actually a party that I’ll throw in my house tonight since it’s gonna be two weeks before graduation, so I’m here inviting you and also thanking you in helping me for my project last week.” He smiles. Damn that smile can make you melt like a popsicle on a summer day.

“Tonight? I…uh, I’ll try okay? I’ve been too busy at nights with my father, so yeah…I’ll still try William.” You stutter in your words. Your cheeks are turning a bit of that red shade as he chuckles.

“Okay, see you then Y/N,” He replies as he puts his hands inside the pocket of his leather jacket, “And hey…”

“Yeah?.” You answered.

“You still look cute when you blush Y/L/N…” He gave you that wink as he walks away, putting his arms on the girl’s shoulder as they both got inside his car. You have a smile plastered on your face while you’re walking home, when you’re already in your neighborhood, you race towards your house, entering by the back door as you lean you back on it, squealing in happiness that William called you cute and personally invited you to his party tonight.

“Y/N? Is that you?.” You heard your father’s voice from the hallway as he sees you here, drowning in your obsession to your college crush and your cheeks still heating up.

“Dad, please…can I go to this party? Just this once and I promise I’ll make it up to you in your pub since I didn’t sing today.” You said all of that in one breath as your father just gawk at you.

“No.” He retorts. Facing his back to you.

You groaned, pushing yourself off this door that you’ve been leaning your back to as you face him again, “Dad, please, just this once!.”

“Maybe that party will be filled with alcohols and drugs Y/N, I may be running a pub business here but I don’t want you be intoxicated with someone in that party. Especially when you’re with a group of men.” He strictly said, making you huff.

“Uh…” You paused, thinking of an excuse to let you go to that party, “Jonathan will be coming with me and he’ll be there by my side. You trust Jonathan right?.” You lied, giving him a pleading look.

“Yes, I trust Jonathan but I’m still not going to let you go in that party. You must sing in the pub tonight, end of discussion.” He said and sat on his chair. Your shoulder slumps down and glare at him.

“Then why are you letting Rosalie go by herself in Kensington to go to some pubs there while you don’t do the same to me? That’s just unfair!.” You complained.

“Your sister is older than you and that’s that–” He argues.

“–we’re just three years apart and I’m not a child anymore Dad! I need to be…free too!.” You bicker.

He was about to speak but you suddenly heard a knock on the front door as you immediately stood up from your seat, stomping your way towards the door to let out your frustrations as you open the door, seeing Jonathan smiling before you.

“Jonathan, you’re finally here…” You smiled as you stepped outside the house, closing the door afterwards. “I’m actually here to ask you a favor…”

Your best friend furrowed his brows, “What’s this favor again Y/N?.” He asked.

“Look, earlier while I was walking home from uni, William Porter aka my crush since high school–”

“–You still didn’t moved on about William huh–”

“–and he suddenly invited me to his party tonight and called me cute for blushing…” You giggled.

“And…? What’s your favor now?.” He asked, feeling uninterested on you talking about your school crush. You stood closer to him as he eyed you, raising his left brow.

“I kinda said that you’re coming with me in the party to Dad so that he’ll let me go, since he trust in you.” You whisper to him, watching his eyes widened.

“You what?! You can’t just lie to your father! And involve me to it, he will kill me Y/N…” He whisper-yell at you, giving you that strict look whenever you’re doing something that would ruin things.

“No, not you too! You’re supposed to be my best friend Jonathan! My partner in crime!.” You whined. He held your hand as he is suddenly going towards your house.

“I’m your friend that is taking care of you Y/N, and I will tell your father that you lied to him.” He said, opening the front door. You try pulling your hand from him, escaping from his grip but it won’t budge. When he pulls the door open, there you see your father looking at both of you.

“Jonathan, you’re finally here.” He said.

“Mr. Y/L/N, I’m here to say that Y/N–”

You finally escaped his grip as you’re now standing beside him, cutting off his sentence, “–That I’m really excited that he’s coming with me in the party that I’m talking about! And he will help me choose my outfit!.”

Your father sighs, “Fine. Jonathan, look after her throughout the night okay? Don’t let her drink that much and if you’ll see drugs in that party, leave immediately.” He said.

Your heart skipped a beat as you jump in happiness, hugging your father then look over to Jonathan, who’s rolling his eyes at you. Holding his hand as you let him in your room. Opening up your closet to bring out the flares and the blouses you’ve been hiding for a special occasion.

“Why is this party so important to you?.” Jonathan asks, sitting on the edge of your bed as he lays down, staring at the ceiling.

“Because it’s William’s party duh.” You replied, holding up two blouses at him. “Which one do you prefer, this autumn colored blouse or the peacock print?.”

Jonathan pointed at the autumn colored as you start to take your shirt off, but you heard him shout behind you, “Hey! You shouldn’t do that while I’m here missy, good god.” He said.

“You just seen me without clothes dumbo.” You teased.

“Yeah! When we were eight Y/N!,” He retorts, opening your door then looks back at you. “I’ll pick you up later for us to go to that party. Okay?.”

You smiled at him as you nod in reply, “Okay Jon, see you tonight.” You said.

“See you Y/N.” He said before leaving your room, closing the door gently behind him.

__________

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAGLIST!

[pennamepersona]

Where's the Logic in Giving Up Love and Morals When You Don't Want a New Job, Anyway

-All appropriate tags available on the ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346800 -

“And of course, we’ll need you to terminate your professional association with Deadpool,” The agent says, and Peter’s head snaps up to look at them, not even pretending to scan the contract in front of him any longer.

“Come again?” Peter asks, making no effort to mask his irritation.

“Deadpool is not an acceptable individual for a SHIELD employee to be known to associate with,” The agent says, sounding surprised that Peter is finally saying something. “His methods are not condoned by the agency.”

Peter just stares in disbelief for a long moment.

“You are aware that SHIELD has assassins on staff, right?” He asks. “Like, assassins plural. As in more than one.”

“The less commonly accepted methods that SHIELD has employed are not public knowledge.” The agent says. “Deadpool’s methods are very well-known and generally frowned upon.”

Peter takes a deep breath and leans his forehead on one hand.

“You’re all such awful hypocrites,” He says, exhausted and upset down to his bones, but unwilling to lash out in an enclosed room with only a SHIELD agent and himself inside. He doesn’t trust SHIELD at all, has stayed away from any and all of their offers for as long as he could, but came to this interview anyway, if only to get them off his back.

He never intended to actually sign on as a - what was the title again? something like, “exclusive super-powered freelance agent through the Avenger’s initiate” - but figured there was no better way to get them to stop asking than to hear them out and summarily reject them.

Now he’s wondering if it was really worth it.

“I understand that your relationship with Deadpool will likely continue regardless,” The agent says, smoothly, and Peter wishes they’d stop talking because he really, really wants to punch them, and that seems unwise right now. “We only ask that it remain out of the public eye.”

“Yeah, fuck that,” Peter says, standing up and walking over to the door, hoping that it’ll open for him without fuss. “I already wasn’t interested in the job, but if you’re going to keep up with this shitty double standard for Wade, you can consider me completely off SHIELD’s contact list for good.”

“Spider-man, please,” The agent says, a touch of concern in their voice now. “We ask that you reconsider. The good that you’d be able to do if you joined - ”

“I do plenty of good now.” Peter says, turning back to glare coldly at the agent, who actually flinches slightly. Coward. “A lot of it thanks to Deadpool’s help. Now, are you going to let me out, or do I have to call for help?”

The agent gulps, pressing a button under their desk, and the door swings open. Peter marches out of it without a backward glance, practically running through the building to the nearest window, which he jumps out of almost on instinct, shooting out a strand of web to catch himself, immediately swinging to the next building, and then the building beyond, until he lands on the roof of Wade’s apartment complex.

He goes down the fire escape, skipping every other step, sliding easily through the window to Wade’s living room once he reaches it.

“Wade,” He calls, yanking off his mask and taking a deep breath of non-filtered air. “I’m back, where are you?”

“Bedroom, Peter-man,” Wade calls back, and just at the sound of his voice, Peter feels some of the tension bleed out of him. He goes into Wade’s bedroom, almost entirely packed into boxes that will soon be taken to their new apartment. The little thrill that Peter always gets at the thought of them finally moving in together still comes, and though it doesn’t lift his spirits entirely, it goes a fair way to improving his mood.

“How was the job interview?” Wade asks, half-laughing as he tosses shirts haphazardly into a box. Peter pulls them out and starts folding them, then replacing them carefully into the box, smiling as he sees that about a third of them are either shirts he’s left here or Wade stole from him ages ago.

“Awful,” Peter says, honestly. “I already wasn’t interested in the job, but then they said if I took it, I couldn’t associate with you as Spider-Man anymore.”

“Whaaaaaaat?” Wade says, drawing out the word into a half-whine. “But I’ve been cleaning up my act! Seventy-five percent less unnecessary violence, Peter, and sixty percent less killing overall, and them’s good numbers! I’d like to see SHIELD pull out those kinds of results from their butt murderers.”

“Assassins,” Peter corrects, absently. “And yeah, I know. I told them they were being hypocrites, and that if they kept it up, Spider-Man wasn’t going to respond to any of their calls, anymore. Scared the agent pretty good, too, so hopefully it sticks.”

“Aw, spidey, you do care,” Wade says, putting a hand to his face and striking a ridiculous pose straight out of a bad anime. Peter half expects Wade to call him “senpai” next.

“Dude, we’re literally moving in together,” He says, laughing. “If I didn’t care, I sure wouldn’t be subjecting myself to your messy ass twenty-four seven.”

“Love you too, pumpkin,” Wade grins, closing the shirt box and taping it shut. “Now then, what’s your sweet self craving for dinner?”

“How about that sushi place down the street?” Peter suggests, and judging by Wade’s squeal, he’s made a good choice. “My turn to pay, remember.”

“See if you can beat me to it, then,” Wade challenges, chuckling when Peter flicks his forehead before grabbing a change of clothes from one of the few drawers that hasn’t been packed up.

“Gimme ten minutes and then we can get going,” He says, brushing a quick kiss to Wade’s lips.

“I’ll drag your ass outside if you’re not done in five,” Wade says, pinching said ass as he walks by, laughing loudly at the subsequent yelp.

“You should probably find a new roof to hang out on, now,” Clint says, striding casually over to where Peter’s lying on his back, looking up at the clouds as they slowly turn from white to faintly pink and purple, reflecting the setting sun.

“Wade said to wait here,” Peter says, not moving. “And so here I wait.”

Clint doesn’t say anything back, just drops to lay next to Peter in companionable silence, which Peter expects won’t last long, but appreciates nonetheless.

“You really made a statement at that interview,” Clint says, after a minute or so of quiet, which is longer than Peter thought he’d last, so really, props to Clint. “Pissed a few people off, especially once the footage from the security feed got stolen. They might unofficially suspect Deadpool, but not enough to do anything about it.”

“Wade didn’t,” Peter says, almost certain.

“He did not,” Clint agrees. “I did.”

“Why?” Peter asks, honestly surprised. He turns to look Clint in the eyes, but Clint’s still staring up at the sky.

“Because you’re right.” He says, sounding just a bit tired. “SHIELD has a shitty double standard, and besides that, Wade does damn good work. He’s not subtle enough for them, is their problem, but honestly, fuck that. Wade’s probably the most honest out of all of us, and if that makes it so they can’t use him, that’s probably a good thing.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a longer moment than originally planned, too shocked by Clint’s outburst of emotion against the agency he’s been working with for a long time, to Peter’s understanding, to be certain of what to say. Clint just sighs, long and more than a bit tired, now.

“I like Wade,” He says. “We don’t hang out a lot, but when we do, he’s a breath of fresh air. I can only let my guard down around so many people, and Wade’s right up there with Nat for easiest person to talk to. I respect him and how he does his work and lives his life. I’ve done a lot of objectionable shit in my life, and I’m sure I’ll do more, but I’m not about to just sit there and see Wade Wilson get bad mouthed. Mild annoyances might be all I’m up to at the moment, but you two’ve got me in your corner, alright?”

“Okay,” Peter says, still unsure of what to make of all this, but then Clint snaps upright and scratches at the side of his head and yawns.

“Welp, that’s all the emotion and sincerity I’m due for today,” He says, stretching and popping out his hearing aids. “Tell Wade I said hey.”

Peter gives him a thumbs up, which Clint nods at before jumping off the side of the tower to what Peter assumes is some kind of safe ledge. He doesn’t hear any crashes or shouting, and he’s seen Clint do way more risky looking maneuvers and come out fine, so he isn’t worried.

“Spidey-pie!” Wade shouts, dropping down onto the roof from seemingly nowhere, startling Peter more than he cares to admit.

“Wade, you scared me,” Peter says, standing up and leaning hard into Wade’s firm body. “Clint says hey, by the way.”

“Oh, rhymes,” Wade purrs. “I’ll tell the purple bird hells-o next time I see him, but not tonight. We’ve got date night, and I’m not about to forfeit that, even for a good ol’ pal like Hawk’s Eye. Wow, and he’s even blonde, too. Not a lot of personality similarities, though, so I guess it’s just the sharpshooting. She did guns, too, and Barton’s way more into the old-fashioned bow and all those Cupid’s arrows aimed towards platonic appreciation, isn’t he?”

“I’ll take you at your word,” Peter says, guiding Wade’s arms around him before leaping off Avenger’s Tower into freefall, catching them about halfway down at the exact second before Wade’s shrieks hit an uncomfortable pitch. “Where to, babe?”

“August fourth!” Wade shouts, and Peter rolls his eyes with enough fondness that his chest clenches, steering them in the general direction of a Mexican place he can remember going to sometime last fall, knowing that Wade will guide him if he goes the wrong way.

Peter’s about 84% of the way through finishing up with his current project, so he’s completely planning on staying overnight to push through and just be done. It absolutely isn’t the first time he’s done it, and he knows it won’t be the last, especially since he’s still doing this after finishing his Master’s six months ago. Beyond that, it isn’t as though he lacks for company in the labs, even at two in the morning.

What is surprising, though, is the company he has tonight. This morning. Whatever, he’s had coffee, but not enough for a worthwhile thought process that isn’t attached to his work.

“‘Sup?” Peter asks, absently, poking a small and obscenely sharp scalpel at tiny filaments.

“Do I have to do small talk before I say the important thing?” Dr. Banner asks. “Because I’m still not good at that.”

“Nope,” Peter says. “Get real, Dr. Banner. I live with Deadpool, I gave up small talk a long time ago. Also, I suck at it, too.”

“I’m positive I’ve told you before to call me Bruce,” Dr. Banner says, sounding a bit tired, but when Peter glances up, he’s smiling.

“You’ve got, like, a bajillion PhDs, Dr. Banner. Gonna show some respect. Besides, I like you.” Peter says, setting his small scalpel down, just in case this conversation requires actual mental fortitude.

“Seven PhDs, actually.” Dr. Banner says.

“Dude, it’s two in the morning and I’m doing science. I respect you, but not enough to remembers details at two in the morning when I’m doing science.” Peter says, leaning heavily into the lab table.

“It’s five thirty,” Dr. Banner says, looking a bit concerned.

“Oh,” Peter says. “Well, that’s cool. So what’s up?”

“Um,” Dr. Banner says, showcasing off his finely honed communication skills. “I heard about Wade and SHIELD.”

“Did he do something recently?” Peter asks, trying to go back through the past month or so and recall Wade saying anything particularly odd that could’ve been translated to ‘I blew up a SHIELD helicarrier because I wanted to test a new cocktail of explosives’ if someone Not-Wade had said it.

“Not that I know of, but probably,” Dr. Banner says. “Just sort of judging by his usual - anyway, no, I meant what you said during your interview.”

“Oh, that,” Peter says. “SHIELD sucks. No offense, Dr. Banner, I know they’re what keeps you and your research going smoothly, but I’m not a fan.”

“Neither am I, if I’m being honest,” Dr. Banner says. “But Asgardian research grants aren’t really a thing, and the research I do is important enough to be worth dealing with a clearly corrupt and dangerous agency.”

“I’m betting that having a boyfriend who’s a literal god and could kick SHIELD’s collective ass doesn’t hurt,” Peter notes, which makes Dr. Banner flush faintly and nod.

“That, too. But you are right, is the point, specifically about how they treat Deadpool. I don’t know him personally, but I know you well enough after working with you for this long to trust your judgement of him. I’ve seen how much he helps you with, um, with your mental state.”

“He gets it,” Peter says, simply, not quite sure if he’s making sense but very sure that he’s tired and probably isn’t going to end up finishing his project tonight. This morning. Seriously, whatever.

“I can see that,” Dr. Banner smiles, again. “I just wanted to let you know that, while this is technically a SHIELD facility, you and Deadpool are supported by Thor and me, which Thor said, loudly, to some of the SHIELD staff who were talking about revoking your access to the building.”

“Oh, shit,” Peter says. “Whoa, thanks Dr. Banner. That’s. I didn’t know that was happening, though I should’ve guessed, probably, but anyway, thanks so much, jesus, that’s really good of you guys.”

“I like to think we get it,” Dr. Banner says, a bit wryly, which makes Peter laugh.

“Yeah, I think you do,” Peter says. “Now, not that this hasn’t been a great talk, but I’m gonna call my boyfriend to pick me up, now, because I don’t think I’m actually conscious enough to get home on my own.”

“You have friends in all directions,” Wade murmurs, the rumbling in his chest making Peter sigh softly, leaning further into him.

“We both do,” Peter says, taking his volume cues from Wade. “They see you. They might not know you like I do, but not everyone on the outside pretends you’re unmanageable.”

“So I’m hearin’,” Wade says. “Nice to be appreciated.”

“You deserve it,” Peter says, leaning up to kiss him. Wade returns the kiss, but keeps it soft, gentle, unhurried.

“Deservin’ ain’t a part of lovin’,” Wade says against his lips. Peter hums his assent and leans back in, savoring the taste of his concrete happiness.

[xoruffitup]

AITAF’s Broadway Show

WHERE DO I START? Okay, at the beginning, I guess - Deep breaths!

First, I want to describe the beautifully diverse group that came together for this extraordinary evening. It started with me and two amazing girls I met at SNL. (One being @reylonly <3) We sat together during the SNL dress rehearsal, exchanged phone numbers afterwards, and we’ve had the best group chat going ever since. My veteran dad came for me and @reylonly’s military ticket admission, while our third SNL friend had managed to connect with a colleague’s mother, who was an army nurse. The vet nurse loves theater and brought her husband as well, so we were a pretty inspiring group of all ages and backgrounds, and shared amazing conversation throughout the night.

The evening started with a very classy reception. We saw Joanne floating around talking to people and she looked stunninggg. The reception area wasn’t that big though, so we soon went down to the theater to find our seats.

We sat in the 5th row!! So when Adam came up to the front of the stage to give an introductory speech at the beginning about the inspiration to start AITAF, their 10-year anniversary, and to thank everyone who made the performance possible, I was just sitting there basking in awe and the fact that he was really THERE. TALKING. SO CLOSE. No, I would not get over it even at all for the following 2 and a half hours... :’)

I’ve read a bit of Sam Shepard but never seen True West performed live, but wow you could not ask for two better actors to play the main characters: Brothers Austin (Adam) and Lee (Michael Shannon). They said before they started the reading that they’d only rehearsed that afternoon, which is nothing short of INCREDIBLE, given how well these two played off each other. This play is full of furious, dark humor and there’s an edge of potential violence undercutting almost every scene, building the tension more and more until Austin finally tries to strangle Lee in the final scene. These two pushed and pulled at each other, getting in each other’s faces and needling each other with sharp words and insults. It was like the actors had been playing off each other for months; They knew just how to drive each other to the breaking point, and they were each brilliant in depicting the moments of rupture.

Adam highlights: There was an amazing section when Austin gets very drunk. Adam sang twice, the second time a hilarious mix of singing and shouting. He started the play wearing a blue t shirt with a grey sweater on top, but during this scene he pulled the sweater over his head, dragged it off, then bundled it up and stuffed it under his shirt. He walked around like that for a good five minutes. He half-fell against a wall and dropped to the floor, only to do a handstand and kick his feet up against the wall. (!!! This was AMAZING ahaha) At some point he did an INCREDIBLE coyote yelping noise. Another point, he talked with an entire mouthful of water and it fountained everywhere hilariously.

Lee bets Austin that he couldn’t steal any household appliances even if he wanted to, not even a toaster. (Lee steals a television early in the play.) This results in Austin stealing the entire neighborhood’s toasters and collecting them in their kitchen. (“There’s a lack of toast in the neighborhood this morning!” “You need breakfast... How about some toast?” “I love the smell of toast in the morning... it makes me feel like anything’s possible.”) All of Adam’s toast-related jokes were just killer. :’)

Obviously, Adam always looks stunning in person, but this time the highlight was unquestionably THE HAIR. The lush, long, majestic hair. There was a portion in the play when he knelt down at the front of the stage and put his head down on the floor, and !!!! THAT HEAD OF STUNNING STELLAR HAIR WOW. There was also A LOT of pushing his hair back with his hands and it got me every. single. damn. time. Be still my beating heart. (it never does when Adam’s involved...)

After the play ended, the cast stayed on stage for the Q&A, joined by the Director. Adam facilitated some discussion among the actors on their previous participation in AITAF events, and the differences between acting on stage and in film. Then he opened it up for questions from the audience.

Q&A highlights:

Someone asked how Adam manages to create a sense of intimacy in all his scenes, even when working on big films. The title “King of micro-expressions” was used, asking whether that aspect is intentional. Adam first reacted with his typical “what-me-talented?-crazy” look of skepticism, but then LOL he just bust out into every ridiculous face he could think of, to show off those micro expressions. It was SO PRESH AND FUNNY.

A few questions later, someone asked what advice he would give to his younger self while he was in the Marines, if he had a chance. Adam’s initial joke response was just: “Microexpressions” and everyone lost it.

Okay this was hands down the purest moment! The cast on stage couldn’t really see up into the balcony because of the lights, so at first Adam shaded his eyes and squinted real hard when a woman in the balcony started her question with “Hi Adam, we crossed paths back in Mishawaka a few times.” Then Adam saw who it was, grinned, and told everyone it was his high school drama teacher!! As she then began her question, she suddenly got extremely emotional and I couldn’t see it, but heard in her voice she was already or would shortly start to cry. After a moment she managed to finish her question - Whether the people Adam meets and performs for when he travels to military bases talk to him afterwards to thank him for sharing his talent and the gift of his craft. It made me a little choked up too, not gonna lie, to hear someone who knew and had some role in Adam’s earliest forays into theater, be overcome by seeing how far he’s come and all the manifold ways he puts his singular talent to use to better the world around him.

I ASKED A QUESTION AND I WAS SO CLOSE THAT HE AND I TALKED DIRECTLY TO EACH OTHER, HE LOOKED STRAIGHT AT ME AS HE ANSWERED AND IT WAS LIKE HAPPY FIREWORKS GOING OFF IN MY WHOLE BODY AHHHHHHHH. I asked him about how he’s seen attitudes change towards AITAF’s work throughout its whole 10-year journey, and I’d like to think he appreciated the question for his reflections back to their first performance and how far they’ve come since then. Video here because my friend is amazing!!!!

A SECOND BULLET DEDICATED JUST TO MY AMAZED DISBELIEF THAT ADAM SPOKE TO ME. Like, he responded to words that came out of my mouth and I somehow managed to speak said words while speaking directly to him?? SLAP ME IM DREAMING :’’’D How did I actually manage to keep myself together while in close proximity to him?! Let alone speaking directly to him?!!! I SURPRISE EVEN MYSELF. But then again, Adam seems to make the impossible possible :’)

I frequently watch theater, but tonight was really a thrilling surprise. I KNEW Adam would be stellar, of course, but I didn’t know if any of the play’s power would be lost with it just being performed as a reading. To the contrary, the performance style may have even made it better! There’s a lot of raw, angry energy in this play, and this stripped-down reading was performed with an immediacy and visceral energy I’ve rarely ever seen on stage. The movements weren’t all blocked out and planned; There was no shuffling of people or props on or off stage; There were no protracted pauses or fancy stage effects to build an atmosphere around the actors; They created everything with just their voices, words, and bodies.

I’m so, SO immensely grateful I got to attend tonight, because this might have been even better than seeing Adam in a full play. Tonight was unfiltered and instinctive, Adam just going for it and throwing everything into the part for a solid, uninterrupted 2 hours. It was equally stunning to see him just remove himself from the whole 2-hour buildup of angry tension as he started the Q&A. (Though there was a laugh among the audience when Adam turned to Michael Shannon for the first time in the Q&A, like “sure you guys really don’t want to strangle each other?”)

Tonight was wonderful and wholesome, moving and inspiring from start to finish. From the people I shared the evening with, to the frank dialogues that occurred during the Q&A about negative stigmas sometimes attached to the arts within the military, to testimonials of how AITAF’s programming guided military families into shared engagement with the arts. It was wonderful to hear the military audience around me responding with genuine enthusiasm to Adam’s initial introduction, applauding and voicing agreement. I appreciated the chance to hear Adam speak so candidly and enthusiastically about his passion project; Just as much as I appreciated slapping @reylonly’s leg and whispering “Why are his feet so cute?” and “Look at his HAIR.” :’)

TL;DR TAKEAWAY: Adam is truly insanely talented and his selfless commitment to AITAF’s goal of bringing theater to military audiences as an enhanced outlet of self-expression is so, so admirable. This man is never in it for himself, and only puts himself in center stage when there’s a larger utility for doing so. You could see that tonight, when he’d realize he was the only one answering two or three questions in a row and would look around self-consciously to his fellow cast members and say “I feel like I’m monopolizing the conversation” or “Feel free to stop me anytime... jump in anYTIME, GUYS, ANYTIME.” (<Increasingly anxiously)

SOMEHOW, Adam succeeded in the impossible tonight: Making me love him even more. But perhaps having him gazing right at me as he spoke to me was sure to have that effect :’D

Nope, still have no fucking clue how I managed it or how I survived. :’’’)

[we-are-fam-ily]

Witness Protection

A random idea I had at work the other day!

Characters: Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Procrasti(Nate)ion, Remy(Sleep), Emile Picani, Deceit Sanders, Thomas Sanders

Ships: Familial Logince, Familial Moxiety, Remile, Procrasticeit? (Is there a ship name for Nate and Deceit?)

Summary: Patton’s new co-worker has a mysterious past, but seems fairly normal for an actor. Soon a new family moves into town and Roman starts acting strange

Wordcount: 1,661

Trigger warning: Death mention, Sympathetic Deceit, Mentions of Child Abuse, Mentions of Drugs, Mentions of Human Trafficking

“I’m just saying, you oughtta stay away from that guy.”

“Nate, kiddo, he’s my co-worker.”

“Pat. I love you, man, but here on the force, we get told stuff.” Nate Harper paused and stared at something out the window of the small café. “I can’t really say much, but watch out for him.”

Patton Heart sighed and gave his cocoa a mutinous look. Nate was probably right, but that didn’t mean that he was going to listen.

“Breaking News!” Both men turned to the TV in the corner. “Robert Pride, CEO of Pride Industries, has been officially charged with human trafficking, drug possession, money laundering, electoral fraud, and child abuse. His second wife, Amelia Pride nee Greed, has been brought in for questioning on the same charges.”

Nate grimaced.

“Don’t listen to that crap, Patty.” The news blared on.

“An anonymous witness came forward early last month, and has now been relocated using a witness protection program. The heir to the Pride family, Robert’s oldest son, is assumed dead. His youngest son has been taken in by a longtime friend who has no ties to the Pride syndicate.”

“I feel sorry for those boys.”

Nate sighed. “You’ve gotta big heart, Patty.”

Patton gave him a short hug before they parted.

~~

“Friends, Countrymen! I have arrived!” Roman Prince lit up the room with his exuberant personality and wide gestures.

“Come to bury Caesar, and not praise him?” Patton’s brother Thomas looked up from his literature homework.

Roman laughed and ruffled the younger teen’s hair. “Indeed. Where is my squire, fair prince Thomas?”

Patton watched as his youngest brother poked his head from behind Thomas. “Heya, Princey.”

“Why is Thomas a prince while Virgil is only a squire, kiddo?” Patton wasn’t entirely sure why he spoke up from his place behind the counter.

Roman shrugged and looked at Virgil.

“Would you rather be our Dark and Stormy Knight?”

The eight-year-old shook his head. “I don’t like the spotlight.”

Roman gave Patton a look that said ‘that’s what he said’, and Patton shook his head.

“Alas, friends, I must make my way to the back, and begin my work for the day!”

Roman swept into the back of the bakery, grabbing a hairnet from the box behind Patton as he went. There was soon a clatter of dishes and the muted notes of a Disney song filtering through the door.

 ~~

It was a few weeks later when Remy Dormir blustered through the bakery door, white-knuckling his refillable Starbucks mug.

“Patton, babe, I’m in love.”

“Aw, kiddo, that’s great!”

“He’s a therapist. With a son. And his brother was looking at Nate like I’m about to lose my best friend.”

Patton grinned and Roman burst into the lobby from the back of the bakery.

“I hear someone is dealing with matters of the heart? Do tell, fair friend!”

Remy winced at Roman’s proclamation.

“It’s too early for your volume, girl.”

The baker looked affronted, wiping his floury hands on his crown-patterned apron and making offended noises.

“It’s never too early for projecting if one is an actor, Pumpkin Spice Bore.”

“Okay, kiddos, let’s be nice. What did you say your new friend’s name was, Rem?”

The coffee addict took on a starry-eyed look normally reserved for venti lattes.

“Emile. Emile Picani.”

There was a loud thwack as Roman ran face first into a wall.

“You O.K., kiddo?”

“Never better, Padre. I’m practically perfect in every way.”

 ~~

They came in on Roman’s day off. Two tall, relatively good looking men and a boy, around Virgil’s age. Virgil perked up from his seat in the corner.

“That’s my friend, Logan,’ he whispered to Patton. ‘He’s new.” Patton ruffled his brother’s hair.

“Well, go say hi, kiddo!”

Virgil shuffled past the counter so he would be visible to the other boy and waved shyly. The boy, who was wearing a necktie of all things, looked up to one of the men for approval before slowly making his way across the story.

“Salutations, Virgil.”

“Hi, L.” He glanced back at Patton. “Pat, c’n I get a cookie for Logan?”

Patton smiled and fished two cookies from the complementary cookie jar.

“Here you go, kiddos.” He handed one to his brother and the other to the new boy. “I’m Patton, my dad owns the bakery.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Patton. Are you Virgil’s brother?”

“Yup!”

The shorter of the two men approached the counter. “Hi! Remy said this was the best bakery in the area. I’m Emile, and this is my brother Dee.” He gestured to the other man, who was looking around and stroking the massive birthmark on his cheek self-consciously. “This is my adopted son, Logan.”

“It’s nice to meet you all! Thanks for dropping by! I’m Patton, this is my youngest brother Virgil.” Patton shook the proffered hand.

“This baked good is indistinguishable in taste from those my older sibling has made for me in the past.”

Virgil made a sound of distress, and Patton looked over to see tears building in Logan’s eyes.

“Oh no! Kiddo, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry, is the cookie that bad?”

The boy shook his head and crammed the rest of the cookie in his mouth. Emile knelt down next to him.

“Want to talk about it, Logan?”

Logan swallowed the cookie and wiped his face with his polo sleeve.

“I momentarily found myself noticing Ro’s absence. My apologies for my outburst.”

“Want another cookie, kiddo?”

Logan looked up to Patton.

“Yes please.”

 ~~

“I think you used your cookies to bake that boy’s heart, RoRo!”

Roman’s laughter from the back was halfhearted.

“Hey, Pattycake, can we talk about something else?”

Patton glanced through the door to see his coworker looking forlorn. “Sure, kiddo. Are you doing ok?”

“Just bitterly jittery and not very glittery today, Padre. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure, kiddo.”

He was so focused on Roman that he almost didn’t hear the bell chiming. He turned to find Virgil dragging Logan in with a determined look on his face.

“Stay here, L. I’ll be right back.”

Logan looked a bit confused as Virgil dashed behind Patton, grabbed a hairnet, and ran into the back. Patton shook his head fondly.

“He just went to beg fresh cookies out of Princey, kiddo. How was school today?”

“Acceptable. Virgil requested assistance with his math homework, bringing me here to work on it. I hope we are not an imposition?”

“No worries, kiddo. Virgil comes here to do homework all the time.” Patton smiled at Logan. “Our other brother Thomas comes in sometimes as well. He’s in high school.”

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me everything he could think to tell me about his family, so I am aware.” He then looked sheepish. “My apologies if that came off as less than polite. I am still unused to interacting with anyone but my brother.”

“No problem, kiddo! That’s a-ok with me!”

“Thank you.”

Virgil came skipping back out with two warm cookies wrapped carefully in a napkin.

“Contraband!” He handed one to Logan and stuffed the other in his mouth. “Mf! Ht!”

Logan cracked a grin. “Of course it is hot, Virgil.” He took a small bite of his, still smiling at Virgil.

“So, kiddo,’ Patton began conversationally. ‘What brings you and your dad to our little town?”

Logan’s face turned sour. “Emile is not my father. My father murdered my half-brother and was accosted for it. I hate to sound emotional, but I hope they let father rot in prison for his misdeeds.”

Virgil started glaring at Patton halfway through Logan’s speech, and tentatively wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder when he finished.

“Uh. Wow. Ok, kiddo. Thanks for being willing to share!”

 ~~

It all went down several days later. Thomas called Patton to pick him up from drama rehearsal, so Patton left Roman and Virgil to watch the bakery. Well, Roman to watch the bakery and Virgil to mope about Logan having to go somewhere after school.

Patton and Thomas pulled up to the bakery shortly after the Picani’s car rolled up, so they watched in shock as Logan got out of the car, noticed something inside the bakery, dropped his bag and dashed into the bakery. Patton was out the car in a flash, right behind Emile.

They were greeted with the sight of Roman tightly holding a sobbing Logan to his chest, tears running down his face.

“Roman?” Patton turned to see Emile and Dee standing in the doorway, looking at Roman like they’d seen a ghost.

“Hey, Doc. Hi, Jekyll and Lied.”

Patton closed the bakery and made hot cocoa.

~~

“You were the anonymous witness.”

“Yeah. Had to wait until I turned 18, so that I might be able to take Lo with me. Didn’t work out, obviously.”

“You didn’t think to call us?”

“Emmy, you know me. I don’t remember phone numbers.”

“He has a website.”

“Get away from me with your facts, Lies and Dolls.”

Logan hadn’t let go of his death grip on Roman’s apron, not even for a mug of cocoa. Virgil huddled close to Thomas, worried by the emotions running rampant in the small shop.

“I think we’re missing information, kiddo. What happened?”

Sheepishly, Roman looked at Patton.

“So, I wasn’t completely honest when I started working here. My name is Roman Pride, heir to Pride Industries. Uh. My father was bad business, so I went to the police and reported him, so they put me in witness protection. Logan is my half-brother.” He paused to look down at Logan, smiling a little at the boy. 

“I heard from Remy that Emile was in town, but I tried to stay away, so I had no idea that Virgil’s Logan was my little brother. I thought he would just get placed in Foster Care. I was going to look for him in a few months, when the fervor died down.”

“No wonder Nate said you were suspicious.”

[sweatersexual]

Hearts Keep Racing

Starting a new relationship right now can't be a good idea. But then, Ed always did have the worst timing.

Written for @edweenweek Day 5: AU

It really wasn't much of a coincidence that Winry should run into one of her clients in the Ouroboros Clinic's waiting room. It was one of the best used providers in their network, after all. And it was nice to see Ed again.

Winry had long since lost contact with her grade-school pal, only to reconnect when she’d fitted him with a new prosthetic about a year ago. They'd friended each other on Facebook since then and commented on each other's posts a few times, though Ed wasn't on Facebook all that much. Still, he was just as bold and brainy as Winry had remembered him.

Winry waved him over as he walked into the waiting room. Ed waved back with a casted right arm. Winry was sure the story behind that cast would be entertaining.

“Hey Winry,” he greeted her, with a glance to Winry's baby bump. “Wow, I guess congratulations are in order?”

At six months pregnant, Winry was starting to get tired of that being the first thing people brought up. Still, she tried to be gracious about it. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Is it weird if I touch your belly?” Ed asked as he took the seat next to her. “I mean, if it's okay with you . . .”

“Yeah, here.” She took his uncasted hand and laid it just above her belly button. “It's sweet of you to ask. Most people just grab me.”

“Ugh, people are jerks.” And then, as the baby kicked, “Wow, there's really a baby in there!”

Winry laughed. “You don't say?”

“Sorry, I'm not trying to be a complete dweeb. I just think the whole pregnancy-new-life thing is really cool. Like, there's a whole other person inside you. That you made. It's fucking incredible.”

“Aw.” Winry hadn't been expecting this behavior from Ed of all people. It was refreshing to see such a brash personality gush over the miracle of life. “You’re terrible at convincing me you're not a dweeb.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You got any names for this tiny fucking miracle?”

“I'm still mulling over my options.”

“You should call it something kickass, like Puma or Diesel.”

“Oh god. Promise me you'll never have children, Ed.”

“Never say never.”

“So what's with the cast?” asked Winry.

“Oh yeah. Would you believe I broke my wrist fighting a dragon?”

“What?”

“Yeah, you know those Chinese costumes with like ten people inside it? I thought my brother was hiding in there.”

“So you tried to beat up the whole dragon?”

“Nah, I tried to tackle what I thought were his legs. Which was really kind of stupid, but my impulse control sucks sometimes. So I tripped up the dragon and one of the guys fell on my arm. As far as wrist-breaking stories go, there are definitely more embarrassing ones.”

“I guess so.”

“I'd ask you to sign my cast, but I came here to get it off, so I guess there's not much point.”

It didn't look like there was any room left on the cast to sign it, covered as it was with red and black signatures, doodles, and even a few chemical equations. “Eh,” said Winry. “I already signed your leg anyway.”

“True, true,” Ed said with a laugh.

Winry's doctor was ready to see her before Ed's was to see him. When her checkup was finished, she briefly took a seat to check her email. She had just finished writing a reply to Garfiel when Ed sat next to her.

"Yech," he said. "I hate how gross your skin feels after a cast comes off." He rubbed his right arm.

"Don't pick at it," said Winry. "You'll irritate the skin."

"I'm not. I'm just trying to relax these muscles. It's so stiff."

"Your doctor showed you wrist exercises to build up your strength, right?"

"Yeah. They hurt, though."

She shrugged. "They'll hurt less the more you do them."

He snorted. "You know, for a healthcare provider, you're pretty indifferent to my pain."

"What do I get for kissing every little boo boo?" Winry asked with a smirk. She and Ed both knew that he only liked to whine about the little things. If he were really hurt, he'd pretend he was completely fine. "You're not my client right now."

"You're such a mercenary," Ed grumbled. "So how'd the checkup go?"

"Good," said Winry. "We're both healthy and hitting all the milestones. Doctor Briggs just prescribed me some folic acid."

"Nice," Ed said. "Hey, you wanna get lunch or something? I've got some time to kill before Al comes to pick me up. Doctor Knox says I'm still not good to drive for a few more days."

"You haven't been allowed to drive?" asked Winry. "You must be hating that." He was such an independent person, it had to be driving him crazy.

"You have no idea," Ed groaned. "Public transportation sucks and Al won't let me bend the rules. He hid my car keys!"

Winry laughed. "Sounds like Al."

They ended up going to the Applebee's around the corner. Winry had been eating there more since she got pregnant than she had in her entire life. She'd been craving ribs and Applebee's had a good deal on them.

"Doesn't baby daddy know how to work a grill?" asked Ed. "That's the best way to eat ribs."

Winry shook her head. "Baby daddy's not in the picture."

"Oh. Sorry. That sucks."

She shrugged. "It is what it is."

"I don't need to knock some sense into him, do I?"

"What? No! He's not around because I don't want him to be. I don't need him, and I don't need you to stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

Ed raised his palms apologetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - I know you can take care of yourself, Winry. I guess I'm just projecting. You know, since my dad walked out on me."

Winry didn't know the entire situation with Ed's father, but Ed had complained about him so many times over the years that Winry could read between the lines. "Yeah, okay," she said. "Thanks for apologizing."

"Of course. I know I can shoot off my mouth sometimes. That's why I hang around people who call me out on my shit."

And then, because Winry's mind was still on the subject, and it was nice to have another listening ear, she kept talking about her baby's father. "His name's Russell. The dad. We were never serious. When I got pregnant, I figured I was in a good enough place, financially, to keep it. And I always wanted to be a mom. But I didn't want Russell to be a permanent part of my life. He probably would've stepped up if I'd told him about the baby, but I just didn't want to coparent with him. So I broke up with him. He doesn't know about the baby, and I want to keep it that way."

Ed nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

But she could tell he was holding something back. "Whatever it is you're thinking, you should say it."

"You probably don't want to hear it."

"Ed, come on."

"Fine. I'm not saying you have to do things my way, but . . . if it were me, I'd at least want him to know he had a kid."

"I get why you'd say that," said Winry. "I just think it's more trouble than it's worth."

"I guess. Hey, you want to see this picture of Al at Pet Barn?"

Winry welcomed the subject change, and the rest of their lunch passed with little incident. Ed had tried to cut his food himself, only to wince as the muscles in his right hand spasmed. She teased him as she took his knife and fork. "Guess I better get used to doing this now," she said.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, you don't have to make the pieces that tiny. I'm not gonna choke."

It had been nice to catch up with her old friend. They'd only kept in touch peripherally since he'd become her client, and it was nice to confirm that he was still the rough-and-tumble personality she remembered. She also couldn't deny that puberty had been kind to Edward Elric. She tried not to think about that too much, though. Her second trimester was a horrible time to start a new relationship, let alone with a client.

However, they were in touch much more than peripherally now. Ed had started messaging her regularly. He liked taunting her with pictures of well-cooked ribs. She teased him back with reminders that he couldn't drive, and she quickly found more material once he was allowed behind the wheel again.

They'd been messaging for about a week and a half when Ed invited her over for dinner at his place. Winry said yes because she knew Al would be there, so it wouldn't be a date exactly, and anyway she couldn't say no to free ribs. So she knocked on Ed's door that evening with a fresh-baked apple pie in hand.

He opened the door wearing a bright red apron with his hair up in a messy bun. Winry couldn't tell if he was seriously rocking the barbecue chef look or she was just hormonal, but damn did he look good.

"Hey!" he greeted her brightly. "Um, Al had to bail. His girlfriend surprised him with concert tickets."

Double damn. This was starting to turn into an actual date. No, she couldn't read into it more than there was. They were just doing this as friends. He probably didn't find pregnant women attractive anyway. She tried to forget how much he gushed over how cool he thought pregnancy was.

Ed invited her out to the patio, where the grill was. "You should probably keep your distance though," he told her. "I don't think the fumes are good for the baby."

"It's sweet of you to worry," said Winry. She noticed how well he handled the spatula and tongs and said, "Your wrist's looking a lot better."

"Thanks," said Ed. "It still gets sore easy, but at least I can use it." He shut the grill. "Sorry, these are taking longer to cook than I thought. How hungry are you?"

Pretty hungry. Pregnancy had a way of kicking a girl's appetite into gear. "Why don't we switch it up and do dessert first?" Winry suggested, holding up her apple pie.

"You don't have to tell me twice," Ed approved. "That thing smells amazing."

They didn't even bother with plates, just split the pie down the middle and ate right out of the tin. Ed groaned when he took the first bite.

"Holy shit, Winry, that's fantastic. Why didn't you tell me you could bake like this?"

"I'm a woman of many talents," said Winry.

"I'm pretty sure pie isn't allowed to taste this good. Did you make a deal with the devil or something?"

"The only devil I've seen lately is you." The remark was out of her mouth before she could think.

His grin widened. "You think I'm the devil? You haven't even seen my naughty side yet."

Shit, shit, they were totally flirting! She had to deescalate the situation. "I don't think it gets much naughtier than the pillbug incident back in third grade."

Ed laughed. "I totally forgot about that! And you put those bugs down my shirt, too!"

"You looked like you were having a seizure," Winry said, chortling.

Their conversation after that was more friendly than flirtatious. By the time the pie had been reduced to mere crumbs, the meat was finally ready. Ed had always had a large appetite and Winry was not ashamed to match him. They both had room for a couple racks of ribs along with potato salad and coleslaw. When they were done, Winry insisted on helping with the dishes. After a few protests, Ed finally relented.

So far, doing that chore together had been the quietest part of the evening. That is, until Ed cried out and dropped the pie tin back in the sink. "Hand cramp," he explained.

"Lemme see." Winry took his hand and started massaging it. She felt along his wrist for strained muscle and rubbed it too. After a moment she started feeling Ed's eyes on her.

She looked up to see him standing closer than he had before, his flushed face closer to hers than it had ever been. Winry's heart picked up, and so did the baby's kicking. But she didn't notice that so much as she noticed his eyes on her mouth.

Ed leaned in first, and Winry closed the gap. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a kiss like this, soft yet unyielding. Ed's left hand wrapped around her back, drawing circles down her spine. Winry traced her own hand up Ed's right arm and clutched his bicep. When the kiss finished, it took Winry a minute to remember that this was not how she had wanted this dinner to turn out.

Intellectually, anyway. Physically, it was clear her libido had other priorities.

Winry shook her head. She said, "Ed, this is crazy."

Ed's fingers drummed on her back. "Is it?" he asked.

"Yes, Ed, I'm about to have a baby."

"I noticed," he said, his left hand tracing around her waist and resting on her belly.

"Ed!"

"Come on, Winry, babies are awesome. I want to get to know the baby too."

Winry supposed that was a good way to put it. It was far too early for Ed to even consider being a father to the baby. On the other hand, impending motherhood was Winry's main focus and anyone she dated would need to be on board with that. Ed had accepted that he'd be spending time with both her and the baby. But still . . . "You're my client."

"What was it you said? When you didn't care about my pain? I'm not your client right now?"

He wasn't wrong. It had been a year since she'd treated him, so it wasn't an offense she could lose her license over. Still, they were cutting it close.

"If we do this," she said, "and your leg breaks in the next year, you wouldn't be able to go to me. You'd have to go to someone else."

"You said it would last me three years, right? Don't you trust your own work?"

He was such a smart alleck. She wanted to smack him. His smirk was obnoxious and alluring at the same time. She wanted to make out with him. He had such a tender look in his eyes. She wanted to hold him tight and never let go.

Winry said, "You're going to be the death of me, Edward Elric."

Ed said, "Yeah, I get that a lot." Then he kissed her again. This one was more fervid than before. Hands wandered down backsides and lips caressed the most sensitive spots of their faces and necks. Winry was pressed close enough to Ed that she was sure he could feel the baby kicking too.

"I think the dishes just need to soak for awhile," Winry murmured in Ed's ear.

"Hell yeah," he agreed. Then he picked Winry up and carried her to the couch, where they could sink into the supportive cushions and feel as close to each other as they possibly could.

They stayed on the couch for a very long time.