Nerd Power

NOTE: I hope that kiss comes soon because it's reduced me to this self-indulgent, rambling, non-sensical piece of...well, I'll let you decide ha.

Title: Kiss
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Otalia
Spoilers: none
Summary: They kiss.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Natalia touches her; she's all caution and care, like Olivia's made of imagination; like she's never had someone's lips under her fingers; like she's on a rope- any more doubt and she's going to fall off. So she takes a really deep, bottomless breath and lets the pad of her thumb press. Because it's the only contact keeping her grounded; keeping her from evaporating.
And Olivia feels it all, from her ears to her ankles, she feels the fever that slices through her. It's never been like this before. Sure, she's kissed; seduced; fucked; taken and taken until there was nothing left to take. But this, this is something she knows she could never have been ready for; no experience could have kept her from this ache.
This is the moment she feels everything she's ever believed in, come right apart; zipped and stripped down until she's completely exposed; until all she wants to do- can do- is give. She wants to give Natalia everything- the wide world they live in and all its ugly corners-she wants Natalia to have. And then she wants to grab Natalia, hide her from infinity; protect her until they can both forget; until they are the only ones left.
She waits. She watches Natalia, the woman in front of her, counting for the next move; breathing for Natalia to lean in and kiss her or lean back and slap her or lean away and cry or anything at all.
"Olivia."
Olivia. How beautiful she makes it sound. Like a prayer; like a secret or a promise. Like it's the only thing Natalia's ever believed in. It's not a name. It's emotion. It makes her heart stop.
"I love you Olivia," she whispers in defeat; surrenders to herself at last; the mind that had held her all her life- the right and wrong and undecided- gone. 
It's then. The perfect time. The now. They kiss. Natalia's not sure who's kissing who because it feels like she's swallowed a cloud. And it feels like Olivia's dropped her from that dainty, dangling silver string, only to swoop her up; up towards the sun and beyond. She's going to cry. She's going to cry and embarrass herself and Olivia's going to realise that this is all wrong; that she deserves so much more- and that 'more', Natalia can't give her.
"I love you," Olivia cradles her face, her fingers trembling against a strong jaw. She presses in firmly, unrelenting and kind, sliding her touch over Natalia's chin, just under it, across the soft plateau to a slender neck and then down, tickling the beautiful junction of Natalia's collar bones. And all this makes Natalia smile and tremble, like there's a tornado-fire inside her.
"Kiss me," she swallows, eyes greedy as they soak up the emerald of Olivia's own; the deep, lucious Amazon green that feels like a long, long journey over the horizon, all the way back home.
Olivia smiles. "I am," she's surprised it comes out as a sob; a hiccup; a glitch. "I am," she takes Natalia into her arms, dropping a kiss to her forehead, then straight to her mouth, to the corner and the beautiful seam of her bottom lip. "Again and again, for as long as you'll let me," she wavers, spilling all her love across the ridge of Natalia's teeth.
"Again," Natalia sighs.
"Again," Olivia nods, halting for a moment; a blink just long enough to remind herself that Natalia is something else entirely- not that she needs to remember- it's at the front of her heart day in and day out. "You're so..." she breaks up, shaking her head at her inability to express.
"You too," Natalia brushes their noses together, covering Olivia's hand with her own- it feels like a second skin against her neck. She rests her forehead to Olivia's own and lets out a rich, tremolo breath. "Thank you."
Olivia's gaze glistens, mirroring the emotion pooling at the bottom of everything that makes Natalia who she is. And she doesn't have to say a word more.

NOTE: I caved. I'm giving Otalia a shot. They're adorable; they're intense; they're totally perfect for each other. And I'm kinda nervous because I haven't written this pairing before. So yeah. Hope someone digs this :)

Title: Colouring
Rating: PG
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Otalia
Spoilers: none
Summary: Just another day in the Spencer household.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

She looks on quietly at the pair of them, proud as only a mother can be; her little girl’s mouth taught in determination, brows furrowed as she concentrates on staying within the lines. The shiny, citrus crayon moves quickly but meticulously over paper, filling the sun.

And then all her attention falls- as it always does- on the beautiful woman next to her; her kind, caramel eyes, pretty lips in an adoring smile; she colours with Emma, their arms pressed against each other's as they lean over the round kitchen table, sharing equal input and requited enthusiasm; Natalia helps her with her art and her upbringing; helps make her happy.

“And then the red,” Emma bounces giddily in her chair, her ponytail swaying with each movement as she hands Natalia yet another crayon.

“Red? Really? What about purple flowers?” she suggests as Emma considers her; sticks her bottom lip out in thought, then grins mischievously.

“No, definitely the red,” she nods, making her mother laugh.

“Why red?” Olivia circles the kitchen counter, Natalia’s head immediately lifting to meet her.

“Because, you always buy mommy red flowers,” Emma reminds patiently, hearing Natalia’s infectious giggles warm the room in agreement.

“Of course she does, doesn’t she?” she looks pointedly at Olivia as the woman sits with them, scooting closer to join in on their exciting project.

“Yes she does,” Olivia beams confidence, voice brimming with mirth. She’s about to take a crayon and start the sky when she feels Natalia’s hand settle on her own; halt her pulse and her breath. And in that moment, she can’t say what overwhelms her more- the way Natalia moves in and rests her head on her shoulder, both watching their daughter devotedly; or the way she whispers ‘I love you’ and it floats right past her ear and into her bursting heart.

“You too,” she leaves a lingering kiss into Natalia’s soft brown hair, wrapping an arm around her as Emma stares at them, a little content and a little more expectant.

“Well…are you going to help out?” she questions, pointing to the unfinished drawing with all the professional authority of her mother.

Olivia raises her eyebrow at Natalia who shrugs innocently, handing her the red crayon without protest. “Hey, you buy ‘em, you colour ‘em,” she teases.

 “Yes ma’am,” the blonde rolls her eyes and finally starts on the flowers. When Natalia pokes her playfully underneath the table and Emma once again stares at them with childish joy, she knows she wouldn’t trade this for the world.  

Hollarrr internet world. I haven't posted for months. I know. I'm sorry. But I have EXAMS which need to not be failed.

But I bring gifts :D
Hello good-looking women that I wish were dating each other:


So there's this crazy awesome forum for equally crazy awesome fanfic, of which 90% is directed towards Kezbos haha. And yes, Kelly/Carrie are totally the most popular stories there *grin*

--> www.kellyfanfics.co.nr <--

There's some Jelly and Kraham (limited because we like to hate on Kelly hooking up with men lol), Delly, Clarkwood etc. so if there's any Idol fans out there that ship Kelly and other hot chicks, the site above's the place to be. Yessum. Oh and you have to register but it's totally worth it. Trust.

Anyway, go check it out y'alls. I'm 'supergirl' over there in case anyone wants to say 'hi' :)

NOTE: I'm back! Two months of NO inspiration and I need to write something. Pronto. It's the Easter holidays. Lent ends soon (sad actually, considering I vowed to do '1 nice thing a day, for 40 days'). It's so freakin' rewarding, you have no idea.
So yeah. Here's a little something. Hope you enjoy, I'm not sure it's a v. popular pairing at LJ but go figure.

Anyone given/taken anything up for Lent? Did you stick to it? Did you fail? :)


Title: Until It's All Over
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: One Tree Hill
Pairing: Brooke/Peyton
Spoilers: none
Summary: Brooke feels like it's the end of the world. It isn't.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Brooke lies down next to her, pouting until arms open up to her and she can snuggle close. She inhales; lets out a content whimper when Peyton hugs her waist and presses their bodies together so their legs tangle.

“Hi,” she says with a kind smile. She's quick to notice something’s wrong.

Brooke continues to leave her guessing -like she always does- and Peyton pouts along with her. She places a kiss on the tip of her nose. Holds her protectively until Brooke breaks and cries and feels like someone’s squeezing her chest so hard she can barely breathe. “Hey, shh,” the blonde soothes; voice soft and familiar against the shell of Brooke's ear. “It’s okay, I’m right here sweetheart,” she tries her hardest to stay strong but it’s difficult when her best friend’s falling apart.

The brunette tremors; she shakes so much that Peyton has to tighten her grip to stop herself from shaking too. As carefully, tenderly as she can, she lifts Brooke’s face, fingers under her chin, coaxing her out. “Hey,” she greets again and Brooke cracks a wavering smile, then continues to sob.

Peyton patiently wipes her cheeks- it’s all she can do to stop herself from bolting out of the door and destroying the something or someone responsible for this tiny chaos. She traces her thumb over her friend’s bottom lip, realising –and not for the first time either- that she looks so beautiful when she cries. But she swipes the thought to one side and holds her gaze firm with the dark pair of brown eyes staring back at her. Because Brooke needs her right now; because this is serious; because they love each other and sometimes that’s the only thing keeping Brooke's world whole.

Brooke chokes something out that’s muffled by Peyton’s lips; they push, trying to swallow every cry and every moan as they hiccup out of Brooke’s mouth.

It’s painfully slow and sincere and calms her perfectly. She lets out a trembling sigh, vision blurred by tears and pain and relief that Peyton’s here and she’s going to take care of her. She tries to blink back the haze; to look at Peyton. But the face in front of her is unclear, like the faded edges of a shadow.

She lifts her hand up, touching Peyton’s jaw to make sure this is real. And when Peyton kisses her again, she relaxes; tries to; the occasional shudder racing through her, making her toes curl. She blindly feels for Peyton’s hand, moaning tensely as their fingers link together.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” the blonde nods; grazes their noses together. She pulls Brooke back into her and kisses the top of her head, holding her until it's all over.
 

NOTE: It's snow day! I've never had one before, considering this is the UK and we haven't had this much snow since '91, so that means no school until Thursday (!!!) sweet eh? Aside from running around my back yard like a loon, making snow angels and jumping in the white stuff, I've actually managed to keep it on the dl. Hopefully my neighbours don't complain hmm.
Also, anyone else noticing the Kelly Clarkson mania? I'm ashamed to admit the girl is HAWT + the new single isn't half bad...go figure.


Anyway, enjoy- not my best but had to post something.


Title: The Gallery
Rating: PG
Fandom: House
Pairing: Thirteen/Cameron
Spoilers: none
Summary: It's a painting.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Thirteen stands perfectly still, eyes moving wildly as she tries to understand the painting in front of her. She’s focused and she’s frowning but she just doesn’t get it; across the canvas, the maroon and navy spill together in one big mess.

Unbeknown to her, Cameron watches how absorbed she is, which makes her more than a little giddy.

“Don’t strain too hard,” she playfully bumps their shoulders together, smiling as the younger doctor breaks out of the trance and finally turns all attention to her. It’s almost overwhelming; how Thirteen looks at her sometimes, like she’s the only one around.

“Huh?”

Cameron laughs. “The painting. You like it?” she nods towards the towering piece of art in front of them.

Thirteen shrugs. For once in her life, she doesn’t know. She has no idea if she likes it; if it’s hideous or terrifying or strangely familiar. And for once, yet still a little hesitantly, she’s not afraid to admit it.

“I’m not sure.”

As tenderly as she can, Cameron slips her hand into the warm pocket of Thirteen’s grey coat where she laces their fingers together.

“Me neither,” she gives an indifferent shrug and lets her head rest on Thirteen’s shoulder.

“It’s…” the brunette starts; realizes that Cameron’s thumb has started smoothing delicate circles on the back of her hand, “it’s…different.”

“Yeah.”

Since she can remember, Thirteen’s known ‘different’; something that took some getting used to; something she embraced. But this- everything Cameron makes her feel- is just like the thing hanging on the wall that she just can’t take her eyes off. It scares her a little but it’s mesmerizing.

After an easy silence, Cameron lifts her gaze to Thirteen’s cheek, kissing her there.

“Sometimes, different is good.”

Thirteen can’t help but chuckle at the way they always seem to be so in tune with each other.

“Yeah,” she gives Cameron’s hand a light squeeze and tugs them towards the rest of the gallery. As they walk, she finally decides that she likes the painting. Albeit dark and intimidating, the rich colours draw her in and remind her of home, much the same way that Cameron does. They share a knowing smile and Thirteen finds that simple things like day trips to places like this, will with Cameron, always be the most precious and the most beautiful.

NOTE: I have finished my Chemistry investigation YESSS. 4 days of hardcore labour and I never ever want to hear about rates of reactions...ever again...ever.
And then, as all hard work goes, I got all artsy and inspired (I guess that's what hydrogen peroxide does to you...huh) and I wrote. A smutty smutfic. Mhmm.

So. First times eh? Crapper for some, hot-tastic for others. For me, somewhere in between. For one, the girl tried to take my shirt off and ended up pushing me off the bed, therefore I smacked my head on the bedside table, therefore it hurt like a bitch, therefore a lot of awkwardness ensued. But  twas memorable :) Lots of nakey-time and snuggles afterwards :D

Anyone had their first time/is currently having a first time (in which case I'm very impressed at your typing/sexing multi-tasking skills)/has particular wishes for what they want their first time to be like? Comment as this should make for a funky topic.

Also, I want to add this in because I think it's absolutely terrific and deserves a shout-out. Thanks so much to alexfoster451 for making the following, ridiculously hot graphic. I sincerely, with all my heart, infinitely appreciate it and am completely flattered/gobsmacked/in shock right now.
Also, I recommend you all visit his page because he has a buttload of talent :)

--> Va va voom <--

Title: First
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Claire/Elle
Spoilers: none
Summary: They've never done this.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Elle’s underneath her; gentle and waiting and like nothing Claire ever imagined.

She looks down and with delicate fingers, pushes bangs from calm blue eyes. In the back of her mind, she’s thinking Elle’s going to grab her any minute now and from there on there won’t be anything but torrents of meaningless kisses and rough, jagged hurt.

So when Elle tilts her head, hesitantly touches her lips to Claire’s own, neither knows how to react and Claire suddenly feels the urge to make this last for ever. She wonders if Elle knows she’s her first; her first heart-break; really, her first everything.

She’d like to say all this, to put it into words and ways Elle will understand.

But she doesn’t. Because frankly, she’s more than a little nervous.

Elle wraps arms around her and holds her so that every part of them is touching, skin flush against skin, forehead to forehead. She wants to figure this out and do it right. She wants Claire; has wanted to be just like her ever since she can remember, only to realise that having Claire would always surpass all else.

The way Elle looks at her makes Claire hope she’ll tell her that she loves her and that she wants to be with her until time stops.

And neither of them expects an ‘I’m sorry.’ But Elle apologises quietly and bites her lip in her haste and Claire frowns at both the words and the silence that follows.

She knows what it’s for. There’s certainly no need for explanations and excuses. And when Elle’s just about to explain and excuse, Claire cuts her off with a kiss that’s more than could ever be said.

She feels Elle’s hands travel down her spine- a light, cautious pathway- and she’s touching her like she’s going to break; like she’s the most fragile thing in the world; like she won’t ever heal.

“I’m never going to hurt you, ever again, I swear,” Elle breathes right against her ear because if she doesn’t, the promise will evaporate before Claire’s had a chance to hear it.

For a moment, she thinks she’s said the wrong thing- something she can’t possibly follow through with- but when Claire trembles and presses even closer instead of pulling away, it makes it all so much easier.

Elle’s thought about what this would be like. She’d know what to do and it’d be instant and her heart wouldn’t be like it is.  She thought she’d be in charge, bold and careless; Claire’s in charge without meaning to be.

So, very slowly and tentatively, she slips her hand down the naked, flat expanse of Claire’s stomach because she wants to really touch her, really see what Claire’s like when it’s like that; that in magazines and dirty literature and bad, late-night TV.

She watches her, doesn’t mean to be brash but watches still and it’s the only thing she knows how to do to make sure that this is going right. She hopes this is going right.

And now Claire’s letting out short little bursts of air and her cheeks are pink and her mouth is even more so and it’s got Elle twisting in knots and coming undone at the same time and-

And finally she touches, there, and she didn’t expect they would, but they both gasp; it feels different. Claire’s never let anyone get so close and she wants to tell Elle this too but her throat’s suddenly dry and scratchy and she doesn’t think she’s going to make it to the end. “Uh.”

Elle’s never heard anything like this before; anything so pretty and terrifying. She’s not sure how to judge it. She brings her left arm around Claire’s waist to support her; she wants to roll them over- Claire would be more comfortable that way and Claire being comfortable is all that matters now- but Claire lets her head fall into the crook of her neck and there’s no hope of moving places. Not that she would ever leave.

“Elle, I…” Claire starts; finishes with a whimper as Elle strokes the skin between her shoulder blades, between the locks of blonde hair.

She pushes a little. Claire lets her. This is good; it works. They push and let until there’s a mutual rhythm and it’s neither rocking nor thrust. Elle searches for a word but all she can think of is skin and Claire and slick and Claire moves so beautifully against her.

She has a pair of hands that aren’t her own, grasping her shoulders desperately. For once in her life, she feels wanted; needed, like Claire’s going to do something irrational and drastic if they don’t go through with this.

“Claire,” she begs, “please,” and mutters into the girl’s hair, “please, look at me,” her voice wavers, tinted with the fear of rejection. Then Claire lifts her head, dark, hooded eyes heavy; Elle sighs in relief and captures candy sweet lips in a grateful kiss.

It has Claire pressing down and for that, she wants to cry because it’s too soon. She’s fallen apart too soon and she feels embarrassed even though she knows it’s ridiculous; because she’s shuddering at the hands of someone else and she can’t help it and above all, she prays Elle’s not going to let go.

She moans out Elle’s name over and over; all she can feel is those hands, holding onto her for dear life; a warm mouth against her cheek, telling her soft ‘hushes’ and words of comfort. Elle is comforting her.

The hurricane subsides quickly and the bright colours have gone; she rests her head on Elle’s chest, counting down for the moment when Elle’s going to remove her hands and her fingers and all that will be left is loneliness and ache.

Elle moves her hand back along an inner thigh, tracing patterns up to a hip and around a lower back. She hugs Claire to her fiercely.

“Was it okay?” she blurts out; it doesn’t sound like her at all.

From the state she’s in, Claire doesn’t think she needs to say ‘yes’ in order for Elle to know. But Elle carries on holding onto her like this is her fault, a mistake if nothing else and Claire realises she finds it as endearing as she does funny.

“Yeah,” she smiles, “yes.”

Elle’s eyes go wide. “Really?”

Claire nods sheepishly. “I’ve never…”

Elle nods too.

She’s not sure why, but it makes her want to hold Elle even more, curl up in this new, lovely situation they’ve gotten themselves into; soak it all up before trying again.

She kisses the corner of Elle’s mouth and mumbles against it, “Later.”

This is all the promise Elle needs. She doesn’t know what it means or when exactly ‘later’ is but she rests her head in her hand and watches Claire being Claire and for now, that is more than enough.

NOTE: Happy '09 everyone! :) Went to see the fireworks with a bunch of people in London and they were totally gorgeous. Then back to my friend's flat for drunken, roof-top raves ha.
Resolutions: 1. Get into uni haha.
                        2. Eat 5 fruit'n'veg a day.
                        3. Cut down on the potty- mouth.
Dull huh? Ah well. Hope everyone celebrated safely and happily and all the best in the coming year :D


Title: Nightly Routine
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Alicia Sacramone/Nastia Liukin
Spoilers: none
Summary: They have a routine and Alicia's not about to let Nastia break it.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Alicia tosses her dead iPod into her rucksack in frustration; hops into Nastia’s bunk and completely ignores the fact that the girl’s settled down for the night, tucked in with a magazine and a mug of steaming coco by her bed.

“Nast,” she pouts as she straddles Nastia’s lap, playfully pulling ‘US Weekly’ from her hands and tossing it over her shoulder.

“Wh…I was reading that!”

“I know,” Alicia smiles at her innocently; leans forward and looks as though she’s about to give her the sweetest kiss. And then she changes her mind and brushes their noses together instead. “Come on,” she says. Her voice drops down an octave.

“Leesh, I’m so tired.”

“Please?” There’s another pout and Nastia has to look away otherwise she’ll give in and that’ll be the end of that.

“I dunwanna.” She sounds whiney even to herself, but as cute as her girlfriend is, she’s not in the mood and she can barely keep her eyes open.

Alicia lets out a sigh as she presses her lips against the side of Nastia’s neck, where it’s warm and smells like vanilla. “Please,” she whispers; breath soothing the shell of Nastia’s ear, teeth tugging coaxingly. “Please, please,” she punctuates her plea with kisses along Nastia’s jaw, to the corner of her mouth and tip of her nose. Her hands move into the girl’s soft hair so she can hold her close. “You know I can’t get to sleep unless you let me.”

The younger gymnast groans, somewhere halfway between a refusal and surrender. Alicia's hands move to her own, fingers lacing together as she presses their bodies flush against each other and it gets difficult to breathe.

“Fine,” she huffs out and swallows, trying to get her heart to return to normalcy. She’s about to continue sulking until she sees the way Alicia’s eyes have lit up and how beautiful giddiness makes her look. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she warns and reaches over for her gym bag lying beside the bed on the floor.

Alicia crawls underneath the covers, taking up her routine position with an arm around Nastia’s waist and head on her shoulder.

Nastia pulls out her iPod and hands her an earphone.

“Only for ten minutes, then we’re going to sleep,” she says, eyebrow arched. It makes Alicia giggle.

“You’re the best,” she beams. She leans over and kisses Nastia soundly and protectively and their lips move like they’ve been doing this for years; like they’ve known each other forever.

“I know,” Nastia laughs and clicks on ‘Shuffle’. She watches Alicia close her eyes as she slips into the music, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

It’s only after a minute or two that she realises Lil Wayne’s started rapping about lollipops; Alicia’s already breathing even and Nastia can’t help but giggle at how  the girl can nap through anything and how she’ll always be the one to help her fall asleep.
 

Note: I am sooo ill! Argh. There's a stupid bug/killer flu thing going 'round just in time for Xmas and everywhere I go, people are blowing into tissues and looking like train-wrecks.  And now it's my turn. What's worse is, I was meant to go on a bar crawl tonight (now that I'm officially 18 *can I get a whoop whoop*) but that's not going to happen :(
Aside from that,  I am now an adult, yussssirr (you wouldn't know it from the way I act ha). And I get to do adult things like um...worry about politics and...legally watch 18-rated films haha and yeah, the night-life has improved :) Went clubbing in London the other night...lots of creepy men. Also, lots of hot girls. Yum. Sooo, this calls for a celebratory fic.

Oh and I finally watched 'Belle de Jour' because I like my French/classic cinematics. Who knew Catherine Deneuve was so fantastical? *gape*




Christmas-wise, shopping's finito, presents all under the tree :D For my f-list, what's the whackiest thing you've bought some one?


Title: The Time Claire Thought Her Heart Had Broken
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Claire/Elle
Spoilers: none
Summary: Claire can't cope. And then she does.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Claire attempts to crawl across the room and it takes three tries before she can actually do it. Before she doesn’t slip. Her knees skid on the crimson-smeared floor and her arms are trembling so hard, she can barely hold herself up. She pants, tears streaming down her face, dried red tracks on her forehead.

“Elle?” she chokes out. There’s no reply because Elle’s lying there in the corner, flat on her back; unconscious. She’s a broken machine, buzzing with electricity that crackles and hisses as it collides with blood.

Claire sobs harder. When she finally reaches the girl, she fumbles for some sort of pulse. Through the currents, she can barely locate it. And when she does, she’s not at all assured because it hardly exists. “Wake up,” Claire pushes her. She doesn’t mean to be rough but she doesn’t know another way. “Wake up,” she growls angrily. She doesn’t get a single response.

Elle’s breathing. She can hear Claire’s voice but she can’t do anything about it even though she wants to. She tries to move her lips; fails miserably. Tries to generate electricity in her palm. Electricity that just won’t come. She hopes that Claire sticks around and doesn’t abandon her there.

Then there’s a hard slap. It clears the fuzziness in Elle’s mind, tries to coax her out. It pierces through her cheek and she’s sure she can feel tears form underneath her eyelids; when she tries to respond, she senses hurt tremor through her whole body.

“Please,” Claire cups the cheek she’s just smacked and pulls Elle’s head into her lap and she’s cradling it helplessly and she’s rocking them back and forth, whining like a caged animal. “You have to wake up,” she begs. She’s wishing Elle was the one that could heal and not herself. She thinks she might die if Elle doesn’t do something. “Don’t leave me here.”

Her hands wipe blood which keeps trickling down Elle’s arm and right above her eyebrow; stubborn ruby that’s also burning and sticky and bubbling where the electricity’s zapped through it. There are plenty of other places where Elle’s been broken- her bottom lip’s cut; there are bruises on her legs; her clothes are stained and in pieces. But Claire refuses to think about all these things because she’s crying to the point of exhaustion now and overanalysing will only upset her more.

“Elle, please, I need you, I’m so scared,” she leans down. “I need you. I need you to wake up.”

That’s when it happens. Elle makes this soft hum that sounds more like an exhaled breath than an actual noise. Claire’s eyes widen.

“What?” she whispers.

Elle breathes out again and squeezes Claire’s hand and she’s trying so hard to open her eyes, to open them for Claire.

Claire’s ear is inches from Elle’s lips so she can listen. So she can check that she hasn’t gone crazy. That the hum came from Elle’s lips and not from blue currents that flicker under her skin.

“Claire.”

Claire swallows back a sob. “I’m right here.” Fresh tears brim in her eyes and fall. Gush down her cheeks and she’s furiously wiping them away, trying to stay calm; trying to hold onto Elle, whose lips are pursed together, frown on her face. She looks so determined. “Wake up,” she sighs. She presses her trembling mouth to Elle’s forehead and the backs of her fingers stroke her cheek, careful and eager all at once.

Elle coughs. She struggles for a breath. Her eyes flutter open and she cracks a smile that’s sad and scared and so very, very vulnerable.

“Oh god,” Claire grabs her close, wraps arms around her and squeezes possessively until Elle hisses in a breath because there’s too much pressure on her stomach and her stomach’s sore. She pools electricity in her palms and it skitters across the stone cold floor, away from them. “I love you, I love you so much,” Claire cries into Elle’s shoulder and it’s too easy to mistake her for the one that’s been hurt.

Elle lets herself be held. She wants to feel. To pull Claire in and bury hands into her matted hair. But she can’t find the strength, even if she’s bursting with will.

So she lies there in Claire’s arms and begins to cry with her because she’s in so much pain and she loves Claire in a way that she will never understand and Claire’s right there, so real and warm and close. So close that Elle vows she’ll never let herself lose her again.

NOTE: Because I don't have time and because I'm out of the TV loop, I had to get this out of my head or it was going to kill me.

Also, I know not many people read original stuff so...taking a risk with this. Comments are appreciated :)


Title: Taking Care
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: original
Pairing: You and Her
Spoilers: none
Summary: Sometimes it's enough to just be there.
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine!

She’s on the bed and she’s reading; not so much reading as frantically underlining and covering the margins of the fat book in scribbles, until black has taken over the page completely. There are sticky notes peeking from every side; so garishly fluorescent that they mock her with all the information she has to soak in.

She’s frowning. You sigh.

You close the door behind you, unsurprised that she hasn’t noticed you come in. You watch as her eyes skim across the minute text- left, right, left, right- and then she bites down on her bottom lip. And you’re reminded of how cute she can be.

You think about saying ‘hey’. Instead, the space next to her looks too inviting to pass up so you walk over and crawl across the covers until you can peer at her over the top of the novel.

She blinks; blinks out of the messy trance she’s been in for the past couple of hours.

“Hi,” you say gently, relieved to see a smile form on her face.

“Hi,” she breathes out. She’s tired.

“How’s it going?”

She shrugs in defeat. She doesn’t need to say anything because you’ve been working just as hard; you can’t remember the last time you got some fresh air.

“Anything I can do?” you try.

“Have you read ‘Pride and Prejudice’?”

You shake your head apologetically, perfectly aware of where this is heading.

“Somehow I don’t think Biology comes into it,” she teases you and you see it as a sign that it’s okay to take the book from her. You fold the top corner and set it aside.

“Hey for all you know, Mr. Darcy could have been a diabetic, so technically, my knowledge of the insulin/glucagon mechanism could-”

She looks at you. It’s enough to make you shut up.

“You’re right…that was a dumb thing to say.”

You pout at her for being so serious and she can’t help dissolving into another smile. You lean in; brush your nose against her own. It’s not enough. So you lean in a little closer and tilt your head and when your lips meet, you let out a grateful sigh of relief.

You want to pull away but then she links arms around your neck and instantly, you melt into a puddle of infatuated goop.

“You can do it,” you whisper. Her blue eyes are hooded from exhaustion and you remember how much you've missed their sparkle. “You’ll get through this, you’ll ace the interview,” you promise her because you know that if she can’t, no one can. She thanks you by kissing you again in that sweet, light way only she knows how. “You should take a break.”

She grumbles. So you keep kissing her to make her listen to you. “You should take a break,” you whisper against her mouth, “otherwise nothing will go in,” you settle in her lap, “and you’ll just fall asleep,” you carefully move brown strands of hair from her face and smile at her innocently.

She smirks at you. “And by ‘break’ you mean…”

You pretend to be shocked. “No! I mean ‘break’, as in, ‘let me make you some hot chocolate and bring you a blanket’ break.”

She realises you’re being deadly serious and buries her head in the crook of your neck. “Ugh.”

“Come on,” you kiss the top of her head before manoeuvring her until you’re both lying down. You lie face to face, like you always do and she scoots closer, like she always does.

“Mmmh,” she huffs childishly- she’s never childish with you- and her hands settle underneath your chin where it’s warm and comforting.

“I’m going to take care of you.”

She nods; takes her thumb and slides it along your jaw like a weary traveller; then settles on your lip. You beam.

“I’m going to take care of you too,” she replaces the thumb with a kiss; it’s firm and sturdy and full of need and you automatically part your lips to let her do whatever she wants.

You hug her waist- fingers tangling in her soft hair- and know you'll never let each other get away.
 

NOTE: She's the lovely one with the light blue eyes; the dancer; the one I look for first when I step into a room. I want to sneak up on her and be the reason she laughs. Kiss her when she's not looking. I'd write her a song but I can't sing. I've seen her cry and I didn't think it would break my heart so much and yet I did nothing. Because we never speak. And when we do, it's polite smiles and fragile conversation.  It isn't easy.


Title: Through The Busy New York Streets
Rating: PG
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Blair/Serena
Spoilers: none
Summary: Things aren't going too well for her.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Blair hurries her way through the busy New York streets with arms wrapped tight around herself and head down, trying to avoid the rain that keeps crashing across her line of vision.

She strings a chaos of expletives under her breath; there’d been another argument with her, again, and it had been her own, spoilt, stubborn fault entirely; her driver’s not here; she has to walk; she has to ruin her new burgundy boots as they splash through the murky puddles and she swears that if mascara starts to run down her face, she’s going to smack her anger out on the next person to rudely shove into her.

She pulls her coat tight; buttons lined up like an army; collar up in defence. She can’t possibly fight this storm. She dodges and ducks but she can’t escape the clouds that race across the sky and cover the ground in shadows.

She feels wind sting her eyes. She blinks fast, yet her vision remains blurry and it’s then that she realises she’s begun to cry.

She stops on the curb and lets her heart drop to her toes, manicured hand lifting to hail a cab; defeated. Before she has time to protest, scream childishly, she’s being pulled back and she’s not sure why. And suddenly the rain has stopped and the wind has calmed. And she looks up.

She looks up; she wants – as unladylike as it would be – to lean into the body now shielding hers; ball up fists and punch and sob.

“Hey,” Serena cups her cheek, wiping away trails of coal black with the pad of her thumb. “I’m sorry.”

Blair just sighs; lets out a cloud of cold, heavy air. She watches Serena wrap an arm around her waist and pull her further beneath the bright red umbrella.

“B, don’t cry. You’re not getting wet any more,” she chuckles at the way Blair’s looking at her with her big, sad eyes, red lips turned down at the corners, even through her relief.

Blair moves her head so that it’s resting on Serena’s shoulder and presses an icy nose against her cheek.

“Take me home.”

Serena nods; hugs her firmly and kisses the top of her head; she knows that no matter how many times they fight, not even the cruellest of blizzards will keep them apart.
 

NOTE:  So this fandom is completely new to me and I know not very many people write this ship. I'm giving it a shot because I've realised the 'OMG who is that hot girl that seems to be demonstrating ninja skills across the gym mat' chick from the '08 Olympics is in fact Alicia Sacramone. Yes, um, smokin'. And down-to-earth. Surprisingly. Anyway, 'nuff rambling, here's the rest...

a) *smoosh*



b)

Title: Failure
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: RPF
Pairing: Alicia Sacramone/Nastia Liukin
Spoilers: none
Summary: You can't win 'em all.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

It’s past midnight and Nastia still can’t sleep. She lies flat on her back; stares at the pale, wooden slacks of the bunk above her; counts them over and over again, folding and refolding arms underneath her head.

She listens to Alicia cry. She’s been listening for the past twenty minutes and she’s pretty sure her own lungs couldn’t get much tighter.

“Ace?” she whispers, frowning at how her breath grates her throat and it stings her eyes.

When she gets no reply, she scolds herself for being so naïve- what was she expecting? A big old ‘Hey what’s up?’

She gives it a few more minutes; hopes Alicia will tire out. Still, she can’t help picturing the tears, how frustrating it must be; how much she wants to make everything okay, even though she knows the brunette hates being comforted; she calls it pity.

So forever being the stubborn one, Nastia quietly gets out of bed and climbs into the one on top. She feels Alicia fuss and hog the covers. She holds her breath until moments later when Alicia automatically shuffles to make room and Nastia can’t help but smile.

“Hey,” she tries again. Silence. She settles on the fact that talking probably isn’t the best option and lies by her friend’s side without another word.

Alicia sniffs; quickly wipes her cheeks. She knows she’s not fooling anyone but she doesn’t want to turn around, and suddenly the white wall staring back at her seems like the most interesting thing in the world.

“Don’t,” Nastia says gently; toys with the idea of wrapping an arm around Alicia’s waist, then acts on impulse and does it anyway. She holds on tight. Waits for Alicia to relax and lie back into her. “Shh,” she nuzzles the brunette’s hair, soothing her patiently. Alicia places a hand on top of Nastia’s own. “It’s okay, don’t cry.”

Nastia can’t help but feel protective despite being younger. She hugs the girl closer and thinks she might have to put up with the trembling body for the rest of the night without being able to do anything about it. She prepares to settle down to sleep, when Alicia turns in her arms reluctantly, until they’re face to face.

All it takes is one look at the crushed expression and Nastia things it might break her heart. She doesn’t know what else to say; no matter what she thinks of, Alicia’s only going to blame herself more. She places a warm palm on the girl’s cheek and wipes the tears away with the pad of her thumb.

“I’m proud of you,” she says honestly; hopes her smile is visible in the darkness.

“I know,” the brunette nods.

“I love you,” Nastia smoothes hair away from Alicia’s face.

“I know,” she says again, takes in deep, shuddering breaths and rests their foreheads against each other. She mumbles something -Nastia’s pretty sure it’s a ‘thank you’- before brushing their noses together. “I love you back.”

Nastia thinks there’s going to be a kiss, pulse racing wildly. Then Alicia lets out a yawn and tucks her head underneath her chin and instead of feeling disappointed, Nastia pulls the covers over them both with a satisfied smile on her face.

She counts each exhale as Alicia’s breath soothes her neck like a tide, and knows that this time round, they’re both going to fall asleep without a problem.

NOTE: I thought I'd share. The story goes, my first kiss was...well, read on. It dates a few years back when I liked this girl who liked me and as love things go, there was a first date. And the first date went great, pizza, movie etc. So the movie ends and we go for a walk which ends up by the river in our town. Yes, pretty romantical. And we're talking and conversation dwindles and there's the whole 'stare at the eyes, then the mouth' moment. So she leans in and I'm all "Shiatzcu broski, I have no idea how to do this, quick! Wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and try to change subject" and BAM! She goes right for my cheek haha. And I'm thinking "Phew. Close call." Alas, she laughs and says she's just kidding and we end up smooching and actually, it's gentle and short and...kinda perfect. :) Needless to say, I went home and had a heart-attack but also a very good night's sleep!
So that = my first base with the ladies.

Share your first kisses/fumbles/gropes/significant others in your comments! I'd love to hear about 'em. And have fun reading.

Title: Kisses In The Snow
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: House
Pairing: Thirteen/Cameron
Spoilers: none
Summary: They've never kissed.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

“So…”

“I had a great time,” Cameron blurts out before she’s even had a chance to think. She shakes her head and buries her hands into the pockets of her winter coat, eyes falling to the concrete to avoid Thirteen’s own. She kicks the snow with her foot.

“Me too,” the brunette says gently. She can’t help but lean in a little closer. She smiles at the way Cameron manages to be so awkward and yet so indescribably cute, slowly taking her heart without even having to ask. “We should do it again some time,” she adds. She’s surprised to find how quiet her own voice is, swallowed up by the December wind as it swipes strands of blonde hair across Cameron’s face.

Cameron finally looks back up; breath catching at what little distance there is between them now. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Thirteen so timid.

“We should,” she bites her bottom lip. She realises Thirteen’s woolly scarf matches her eyes and finds herself comparing the two. Quickly, she settles on the fact that Thirteen’s eyes are infinitely more beautiful and the thought makes her blush.

“Okay,” Thirteen nods. She wants to close the space; kiss Cameron without freaking her out, slowly and patiently, in a way that would make her know she’s special. Instead, she waits, hoping Cameron will make the next move; any move, as long as it tells them both where they stand.

When she doesn’t, Thirteen places a hand on her arm and leaves behind a tender squeeze. “See you at work,” she says; after hesitating for a few moments, she tilts her head to the side and brushes a warm kiss against Cameron’s cheek, clearing her throat nervously and turning to go.

“W-wait,” Cameron reaches out in time to grab onto the younger doctor’s sleeve. Then Thirteen turns and frowns and Cameron tries to figure out what she’s supposed to do. “Um…” she steps in, heart fast and heavy in her ears as she presses her lips against Thirteen’s own. She knows her knees are going to give out and she’s pretty sure Thirteen knows too because she feels arms lock around her waist just in time; in time for her to place her hands on Thirteen’s shoulders for support.

The only thing that comes out of her mouth is a breathless sigh. She blinks a few times to make sure this is real; it is. She’s standing on the front steps to her apartment building, staring into two warm pools of azure as she battles with the choice of moving in for another kiss or pushing away. First kisses are the most important; the ones with the spark; or no spark; all won or lost.

The thoughts muddle in her brain and it’s only after a few moments that she registers it’s started to snow.

“It’s…I…snow…”

Thirteen lets out a laugh and kisses her again, even more softly than before. “Bye,” she helps her out, this time with a bashful smirk and an arch of an eyebrow.

“Bye,” Cameron watches her walk backwards to her car, both wide-eyed and grinning.

She waves giddily; she’s not the waving kind but she waves nonetheless and then Thirteen waves back, perhaps a little more nonchalantly but it’s enough to fill Cameron with a breathtaking warmth. She leans back against the front door and watches Thirteen leave behind tyre tracks, and a gentle imprint on her lips.
 

NOTE: We're hanging at school, planning my friend's Halloween house party. Do consider that there's about 90+ other people in the 'common room'- we Brits have a special 'hang' area for kids in the last year of school, i.e. 'seniors'. So I lean over in my chair, as you do, to have a look at the food/movie/booziedranks/etc. list and DOOM *queue epic blunder*. Some one's failed to mention that the chair is, in fact, equipped with 2 wonky legs. Yes, 2. Unsurprisingly, I go flying, accompanied by girly scream + flailing arms, smack onto the floor. Conveniently enough, the whole room's managed to fall into a silence just in time for the 'Sandra's ass-face act of the day' move.
Now *queue 90 laughs, then a lot of 'Oh Sandra, you fool' and 'haha too cute' as well as the more considerate people doing the whole 'are you okay?' * WTF does it look like Einstein? I just embarrassed myself in front of my whole year. Genius.
So yeah, entertaining day for everyone. But the rave's going to kick balls (dumb costumes, too much vodka, 90s music and I hate to think how many windows will be trashed/how much sex is to be had), and before you ask, yes, I'm going as a bloody surgeon, scrubs and all. Wheey.

We all saw how well the therapy session worked in my last fic and I'm kind of starting to like the whole, 'Dr. Phil ask my f-list about their lives' idea. By the way, thanks for the buttload of comments for the previous story, that was...wowza, thanks to everyone for reading, it means more than you'll ever know.

So people who check this next fic, do spill about your most embarrassing moments/plans for tonight./what you got up to. 

With no further ado, ta-dah, a Halloween-themed Thirteen/Cameron fic (yeah, apparently Cameron has the same costume ideas as me...go figure). Not my best but the deadline's today (nooo, for reals?) so hope you enjoy and comments are appreciated, as always :)

Oh and this journal hasn't had eye-gasm stuff for a while so, ahem...

Title: The One With The Halloween
Rating: PG
Fandom: House
Pairing: Thirteen/Cameron
Spoilers: none
Summary: It’s everyone’s favourite day of the year. Well. Minus Christmas.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

 “Oh…no…” Thirteen says flatly and shuts the front door to the apartment, greeted by Cameron in a pair of heavily blood-smeared pink scrubs and a plastic axe in her hand.

“Happy Halloween,” she says innocently, then makes a stabbing motion accompanied by an evil grin.

“Uh…” the brunette places her keys on the table; slowly takes off her coat. “You dressed up…” she stands there, completely bewildered. She can’t remember the last time she celebrated Halloween. In fact, had she ever?

“Oh come on, it’s cool right?” Cameron beams, twirling around playfully, then stepping close and wrapping arms around her neck.

“I’m not kissing you like that,” the younger doctor frowns. She’s sceptical. She’s pretty sure the day wasn’t designed for anyone over the age of twelve and she can’t help feeling a little stupid.

But then all she gets from Cameron is a pout. That adorable, rarely-used pout that always works like a charm and never fails to turn her into a mumbling puddle of infatuation

“Lighten up Remy,” Cameron whispers, kissing her cheek lightly.

Trying to stand her ground but finding it increasingly more difficult, Thirteen shrugs and lets out a defeated sigh. “I don’t have a costume.”

That’s when she notices the sparkle in the pretty blues staring back and immediately regrets complaining.

“That’s what you think,” Cameron wiggles her eyebrows and runs off into the bedroom, quickly coming back with a men’s shirt, blazer, jeans and cane.

“You’re not serious.”

“Hey, he’s scary enough as it is,” she reasons, handing the outfit to Thirteen who takes it and purses her lips. “House? You want me to dress up as House?”

The fact that she gets no reply is enough of an answer and it’s her turn to sulk.

“Any better ideas?” Cameron leans in; brushes her lips over Thirteen’s own.

“Actually…I could work with this,” she smirks. She’s about to chuckle at the wide-eyed look on Cameron’s face but puts the thought aside and goes to the bathroom to get changed.

Cameron tries to figure out if Thirteen was being serious as she flips through the DVDs, deciding on which would be best to watch. She hates horror movies as it is but her girlfriend begs to differ so she can’t imagine anything better than snuggling into Thirteen’s side and using her arms as a shield from the TV screen.

She puts in ‘The Shining’ and reaches for the remote. She nearly screams when she feels arms circle around her waist. “Jesus!” she says breathlessly, suddenly turning around. Thirteen smiles.

“Sorry,” she steps back. “What d’you think?”

Cameron’s pretty sure her mouth falls open. “Um…I um…”

As limited as the response is, Thirteen still blushes. She never blushes. She’s wearing the men’s shirt and a pair of black, lacy boy-shorts and although it’s anything but scary, it’s definitely more than sufficient. Cameron follows the long legs that disappear behind the crisp, white seam, the material hugging all the right places; she wants to pop the buttons open one by one, eyeing a perfectly-sculpted collar bone above the V-shape of the shirt.

Thirteen watches her with an amused grin. She watches how completely mesmerised she is and all Cameron wants is to sweep soft, shiny brown hair off Thirteen's shoulders to kiss her slender neck.

“Wow.”

“The cane didn’t really…match.”

Cameron nods speechlessly and without warning, grabs Thirteen into a deep, loving kiss. Once they’re both dizzy and on the verge of putting Halloween to one side, Cameron pulls away and manages to choke out “Movie?”

Thirteen laughs. “Yeah.”

And so they settle down onto the couch, bowl of popcorn between them, Thirteen’s arm already around Cameron’s shoulder, ready to protect her.

“You know what to do if you get scared,” the brunette says. She watches Cameron grab a small cushion just in case.

Cameron tilts her head up and kisses her girlfriend gently, “Yep,” she rests her head on Thirteen’s shoulder and feels her give her an adoring squeeze.

The opening credits roll and the freaky music starts and although she’s about to get scared out of her mind, Cameron’s sure this Halloween's going to be a memory for keeps.
 

NOTE: So  I'm pretty sure I'm smitten/infatuated/breath-taken and it hurts like a bitch. Her name is Nic and as stupid as it sounds, everything she does is lovely. Thinking about her = several minor heart attacks followed by an inability to breathe/communicate and it makes me wonder if I'm acting like a complete geeknerddork. I can't stop sneaking glances. When she looks back (completely oblivious), I feel as though I might burst out laughing or burst into tears. Yup, lame.
She's got the sweetest, shiest, prettiest, rosy-cheek smile I've ever seen and the brown eyes...yeah. The girl is so down-to-earth and refreshingly smart which you don't come across often these days. When she talks to me it's like trying to catch my breath and stop my knees from acting up at the same time.
The normal reaction might be 'Damn, I totally want to tap that, get in there son' but all I actually want to do is hold her hand and bake her cookies (you're thinking WTF?, I know) and make her happy. That's all well and good, only thing is, I'm 99.99% sure she's straight so that wish-list goes down the toilet. Sigh. If only. How the hell do you get over something that's so ridonculously epic?


Anyone who reads this next fic, I'd love to hear about your crushes and if they came true or if you wallowed in your own misery/slept with as many people as possible until they went away. :)

Title: Cure For Insomnia
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: House
Pairing: Thirteen/Cameron
Spoilers: none
Summary: Thirteen can't sleep and she gets distracted.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

She can’t sleep. She’s been tossing and turning all night and not even the warm comfort of Cameron’s arms makes her settle. She sits up, careful not to stir the pretty picture beside her; watches as the early morning glow slips past the curtains and onto the beautiful, naked expanse of Cameron’s back.

When she feels Thirteen move away from her, Cameron lets out a soft whimper; lips pursed together, small frown evident on her face as she clutches the sheets to herself. Then Thirteen’s hand touches between her shoulder blades and smoothes down her spine in a way that makes her shiver and snuggle into her pillow, wishing she could wake up.

Thirteen smiles at the reactions she gets. She brushes locks of blonde hair away from Cameron’s skin so she can trace the curve of her neck, the slope of her arm. She notices goose bumps raise at each place her fingertips ghost over.

She’s about to move her hand up from Cameron’s waist to tuck strands of hair behind her ear, except Cameron moans and nuzzles close and this distracts her completely.

“Cameron,” she says softly.

The blonde huffs. She pulls Thirteen near enough and sleepily wraps an arm around her.

“Mmmh?”

She realises Cameron’s awake now and the thought makes her feel guilty because she’s the reason; she woke her up and as cute as it is, she doesn’t like seeing Cameron cranky.

“Nothing,” she kisses the top of her head, “go back to sleep.”

Cameron senses something in Thirteen’s voice; something lonely and frustrated, and immediately lifts her head up, eyes open and alert.

“What’s wrong?”

The younger doctor shrugs. “Nothing’s wrong.” It comes out questioning and insecure and Cameron knows she’ll have to try harder.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

Cameron sees the dark circles under Thirteen’s eyes; she realises the girl’s barely slept. Patiently, she runs the back of her hand over Thirteen’s cheek. “Hey,” she whispers as gently as she can, then carefully leans in until their lips meet. She makes sure the kiss is reassuring and like absolutely nothing Thirteen’s ever had because she wants to prove that she’s not like the other girls; that she’s not just going to up and leave.

“Rem…”

Thirteen looks at her expectantly.

Cameron presses against her mouth with the pad of her thumb, “I love you,” she tells her, slow and sure, like an unbreakable promise.

“I know,” the brunette nods, “I love you too.”

They look at each other for a few seconds until Cameron kisses her again, brief but sweet, moving to the tip of her nose. “Sleep,” she points out kindly; so much so that Thirteen doesn’t even consider a refusal.

Instead, she silently moves her head so that it’s tucked under Cameron’s chin. She lets their legs tangle and Cameron hugs her protectively, pulling the covers over them.

“Cam.”

“I’m right here, get some sleep honey,” she strokes Thirteen’s hair, immediately feeling the girl relax.

The brunette breathes out against Cameron’s neck, relishing the feel of Cameron’s hands; the way they know just how to take care of her.

“Stay,” she closes her eyes, lips pressing to Cameron’s collar bone lovingly.

Cameron lets out a deep ‘mmm’ and as she subconsciously tightens her hold around her girlfriend’s waist, Thirteen can’t help but breathe a sigh of grateful relief.

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 Title: Here To Make It Easier For You
Rating: PG
Fandom: House
Pairing: Thirteen/Cameron
Spoilers: none
Summary: Cameron's the knight in shining armor.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Thirteen throws away what’s left of her coffee because it’s bitter and stale and leaves her mouth painfully dry. She leans her forehead against the cool metal of her locker and lets out a heavy breath- over the last three days she’s slept a total of seven hours and no amount of caffeine, bitter or not, could save her. On several occasions, she’s thought about kicking her pager against a wall or dropping it out the window but it weighs in her pocket like a tonne of worry.

“Hey,” Cameron frowns as she walks over to her own locker, taking off her scrubs and hanging them up.

The brunette looks at her; tries her best smile but knows she’s not fooling anyone.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Thirteen says flatly. She doesn’t want to cloud over Cameron’s day and she definitely doesn’t want to cry. She’s thinking she might if Cameron doesn’t back off.

The blonde watches the younger doctor who’s looking down at the floor, rubbing her neck exhaustedly.

“Want to talk?” she tries again, quietly this time. The fact that Thirteen refuses to let her in frustrates her, like an itch she can’t quite get to. She wants Thirteen to trust her; she never trusts anyone; to Cameron, she’s an island- quite happy to be one, but an island nonetheless.

Thirteen shakes her head in silence, bottom lip between her teeth as she tries to swallow back whatever seems to have lodged in her throat. When she finds she can’t, her eyes well up. She turns her back on Cameron and quickly wipes the tears that won’t come.

Moments later, the blonde’s hand is on her shoulder and she doesn’t know if she should shrug it off or walk away or say something, or just wait for her to leave. The options leave her dizzy.

She finds she doesn’t have much of a choice when Cameron turns her around and wraps arms over her protectively.

On instinct, she tries to push away because she knows she doesn’t need anyone’s help; she’s strong. Her trouble is her business and hers alone. When Cameron doesn’t let go, Thirteen huffs angrily and buries her face in the warm curve of the blonde’s neck, furious for coming undone. And then she sobs.

“Rem,” Cameron rests her chin on top of Thirteen’s head.

“Leave me alone.”

If it wasn’t for the tears soaking through her collar, Cameron would have laughed at the irony. Instead, she runs calm, comforting hands over Thirteen’s back. She’s not sure why, but with every sniff she hears, her heart breaks a little more.

Then Thirteen lifts her head up, eyes still glued to the floor; if she looks at Cameron, she might as well hand her pride over. So she stays put.

“Remy,” Cameron tilts her head to the side to try and capture Thirteen’s gaze but the brunette looks away and Cameron has to physically tilt her chin back to face her. “Don’t,” Thirteen reaches up to wipe her cheeks. Before she realises, Cameron’s hands are on her face instead and the soft pads of her thumbs are brushing away wet, glistening trails.

The gesture causes more tears and Thirteen wants to hate the older doctor for making her cry, with her stupid concern and her stupid, gentle hands. But hard as she tries, for the life of her, she can’t.

“Shh, stop,” the blonde pleads, “come on,” she manoeuvres them over to the bench awkwardly, where they sit under the harsh blue glow of the locker room lighting. “You’re just stressed out and tired and need a good few hours in bed,” she tries to reason as Thirteen shakes her head. “It’s okay, I’m here for you.”

“Y-you don’t kn-now the half of, of it,” she takes in deep breaths to calm herself down. She sees the fact that Cameron’s shirt is wet and blushes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, nodding towards the spot where her head had been. Cameron laughs; a sad, empty laugh.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Thirteen nods.

“Listen, are you on-call tonight?”

The brunette shakes her head gratefully. “I have the night off.”

“You want to grab something to eat with me? I promise to bring you home at a reasonable hour,” she tries, hopeful that tension will clear.

A pair of light blue eyes fix on her sadly and Cameron thinks the answer might be ‘no’.

Thirteen nods again. “I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Cameron says, relief evident in her voice; stands and offers Thirteen a hand to pull her up.

“Okay,” Thirteen smiles and takes her jacket from her locker. “Allison?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word comes out barely louder than a murmur, but Thirteen’s expression is where the genuine gratitude is.

Cameron stares at her and is overcome with the urge to blurt out ‘you’re beautiful’ or ‘you’re pretty when you cry’ but she purses her lips together; shrugs.

“Any time, really.”

And so Thirteen gives in. She lets Cameron lead her out to the parking lot; lets her help. She wonders if things are going to get a little easier.

When Cameron opens the door for her and gives her a glowing smile, Thirteen’s pretty sure they will.

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NOTE: Because they're too cute not to include an eye-sex photo and because this be my first Bleighton fic yay.



Title: Safe In Waiting Arms
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Gossip Girl
Pairing: Blake/Leighton
Spoilers: none
Summary: Leighton's tired.
Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Leighton stumbles in through the trailer door, legs refusing to cooperate, eyes closing so quickly that she has to reach out and steady herself against a wall. She’s grateful when she finds herself being wrapped up in a hug that’s so protective and familiar and welcoming. She can’t help but nuzzle in close, breathing the summery scent as her hands link around a slim waist.

“Hey,” Blake laughs when Leighton lets out the hugest, loudest yawn she's ever seen.

“Hi,” the short brunette doesn't want to move and insists on standing there with her head buried in Blake’s neck while warm gusts of breeze sweep in through the still-open door.

After a few minutes, Blake pulls away gently and tilts her head to the side to look at Leighton who’s practically swaying from exhaustion. She strokes her cheek in that comforting way of hers and Leighton’s brown eyes immediately flutter open, a small smile tugging on her lips.

Blake leans in close, waiting for Leighton to finish the distance and her heart finally stops skipping when the brunette presses soft, rosy lips to her own, unhurried and tender but still firm enough, making sure Blake knows she’s special.

“Sleepy,” she whispers as if the taller girl hadn’t already figured this out.

“I know sweetie,” the blonde nudges the trailer door shut with her foot and takes Leighton’s hands so she can pull them towards the bed.

Once Leighton’s slumped on top of the sheets and has clumsily kicked off her Manolos half-way across the trailer, she stretches her arms up like a little kid, pouting for a hug. Blake obliges without a second’s hesitation; lies on top of her co-star and gathers her up in her arms.

“You might want to get changed,” she points out kindly but she doesn’t want to disturb the serene look on her girlfriend’s face. Leighton sighs and scrunches up her nose adorably and that’s all she needs to do for Blake to shut up and just hold her.

“Blakey?”

Blake chuckles. She feels hands clutching to her shirt.

“Yep?”

Leighton doesn’t reply. Instead, she rests her head underneath Blake’s chin where she knows she can take refuge, and hopes Blake will run lazy fingers across her back without being told to.

Naturally, moments later she feels patterns being mapped out underneath her silk top, whispering over her warm skin. She mumbles words that Blake doesn’t understand but which sound an awful lot like something along the lines of ‘I love you’.

“I love you too Leight,” she assures. She’s not sure if Leighton hears her because her breathing’s already evened out and her mouth’s pressing to the side of her neck as she begins to snore lightly. “Never mind,” Blake smiles wide and pulls the covers over them. She’s more than happy to tell her again in the morning.