#and the coffee shop lesbians made me wince | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

all-hail-the-witcher · 3 years ago

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5 times geralt wrote jaskiers name wrong on his coffee cup plus 1 time he didnt need to: part 1

its @natskier‘s birthday and hhh nat fucking slaps and her birthday fic accidentally became a 5+1 and yeah. here's part 1.

___

ship: geraskier, modern

warnings: lamberts a bitch, geralt has feelings, jaskiers a little shit

editing: yes

words: 1.1k

genre: slow burn adjacent cause the boys are hella fucking impatient oops

___

“Geralt! Get your bitch ass up here and work the register!”

Geralt didn't even bother opening the door of the breakroom. “Fuck your boyfriend when you’re not on the clock!”

The door to the breakroom swung open and a very disgruntled Lambert glared down at him, arms crossed over his chest. One of his bright red curls fell out of his bun and hit him in the eye. Geralt had to hold his hand in front of his mouth to stop himself from laughing.

“If you paid attention, you’d know that Aiden is out of town. I’m going to the bank to get change you fucking piss biscuit.” Lambert pointed at him angrily. “If you burn the place down it’s coming out of your damn paycheck.”

Geralt groaned as the door slammed shut behind Lambert, but he still got up and walked begrudgingly to the front. Getting fired by his father would have been nothing short of embarrassing.

He made sure that his apron was tied correctly as he walked up to the register. Eskel was making the drinks, which was the job that Geralt usually preferred because it involved less interaction with the customers. But Lambert really hadn’t given him much of an option.

The bell above the door chimed and Geralt put on his best customer service smile.

“Hi, welcome to Kaer for More Coffee, what can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee. Large. Dark roast”

Geralt punched the order into the register without looking up. Then he grabbed a cup off of the stack, pulled the sharpie from behind his ear and scribbled the order on the side. The routine was so familiar he could probably do it in his sleep. Not that he would ever admit that though because then Lambert would definitely try to get him to do it.

“Name?” he asked, still not looking up.

Whatever the customer said got lost in the noise of the shop.

“Could you repeat that?” Geralt asked, looking up for the first time and holy fuck.

The man standing at his register was abso-fucking-lutely gorgeous. He had dark brown hair that was falling in his bright blue eyes and the little smile on his face that showed off his dimples made Geralt nearly melt. It took all of his willpower to not drop the cup in his hand and keep his eyes on the man’s face instead of the bit of chest hair peeking out from his scandalously unbuttoned, peach colored shirt. It was almost like he was tryingto make him swoon.

“Jasper.”

Or at least that was what Geralt thought that he said. Eskel chose that exact moment to knock over a sack of espresso beans.

Geralt clumsily scrawled his name on the cup. Seeing that Eskel was otherwise occupied and he didn't want to keep the attractive man waiting, Geralt went to grab him his coffee. It wasn't like there were any other customers waiting.

Geralt filled the cup, double and triple checking that he had the right roast before sliding the order across the counter.

“Jasper!” he called out.

The attractive man was standing on his phone, not making any move to come and get his coffee.

“Jasper!” Geralt called out again, hoping to get his attention.

Still nothing. The man was scrolling like his life depended on it and it honestly didn't help that he had the cutest look of concentration on his face: slightly furrowed brows and an adorable frown line creasing his forehead.

“Hey,” Geralt said. “Your coffee’s ready.”

This time the man looked up, slightly surprised to see Geralt holding out the cup.

“Is that mine?” He asked, gesturing to the cup.

Geralt nodded. “Large black dark roast.”

“But you didn't call out my name,” the man said, crossing his arms.

“Yes I did.” Geralt cocked his head in confusion. “Twice.”

The man took the cup from him skeptically, spun it until he could see the name that Geralt had written on it and laughed.

“Well darling,” he said. “I didn't respond because my name isn't Jasper.”

Geralt spluttered, momentarily distracted by the fact that such an attractive person had just called him darling. He tried desperately to ignore the swell of heat in his stomach. “But you said-”

“I didn't say Jasper.” The man took a sip of his coffee and tried and failed not to wince. Geralt didn't blame him. Black coffee was terrible. “I guess I’ll just have to come back tomorrow and remedy this issue, won’t I, uh,” the man squinted at his name tag, “Gerald.”

“That’s not-”

“Oh I know,” the man smiled, taking another large gulp of his disgusting coffee. This time he couldn't hide the wince at all. “I’ll get your name right when you get mine right.”

And then he had the audacity to turn and walk out of the shop. Without putting any milk or sugar in his coffee, Geralt couldn't help but note.

Geralt stared transfixed at the door that the man had just walked out of. What the hell had just happened?

Unluckily for him, he didn't have much time to ponder that because Lambert walked through the very same door not two seconds later.

“What happened, pretty boy?” Lambert asked, opening the drawer of the cash register and putting in the change that he had gotten. “Did that door tell you that your hair looks terrible straightened? Cause I’ve been telling you that for at least the last three years.”

Geralt opened his mouth to respond but Eskel beat him to it.

“A hot guy came in and ordered and Geralt wrote his name wrong on the cup.”

Geralt turned away from the door to hide his blush. The way that Eskel said it made it sound so much worse than it was. It had been an honest mistake! It wasn't his fault that Eskel had dropped the damn espresso beans right when he had said his name!

Lambert tisked disapprovingly. “Of course the one time you manage to find someone who actually likes that mop on your head, you don't even manage to learn his name. Now I can’t stalk him on Instagram! Geralt, you really need to be more considerate of these things.”

Geralt threw an empty cup at him.

“Fuck off, you know I’m right!” Lambert groaned. “And I could get you written up for harassment in the workplace! What if you injured me and I couldn't work anymore, huh?”

“Lamb, it was a paper cup,” Geralt sighed. “And considering our dad is our boss, he would have seen straight through your dramatics.”

Thankfully, any further retorts from Lambert were cut off by the bell above the door ringing.

“Hi, welcome to Kaer for More Coffee what can….”

Geralt used the distraction to slip back into the break room. He still had another 10 minutes left on his break and he fully intended to use them to mope over the fact that an attractive man had shown actual interest in him and he’d somehow managed to not get his name.

Lambert would never let him live this down.

___

hehehehe :)) dumbasses

tag list: (inbox me to be added)

@percy-jackson-is-sexy-

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@eminasan

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@nonegenderleftpain

@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde

@geekymagicalpotato

@jaskierswolf

@toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account

@toss-a-coin-to-your-lesbian

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@alllthequeenshorses

@mothmanismyuncle

@dapandapod

#the witcher #witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfic #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fanfic #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #modern geraskier #saph scribbles

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rose-sunlight · 4 years ago

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Hot Chocolate (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral! Reader, Platonic! BAU x Reader

Warnings: Outing, Crying, but it gets better I promise, Fluff. I feature the BAU with my different LGBTQIA Head cannons, as well.

Summary: An unsub sends an email revealing the darkest secrets of everyone on the team. Y/n shows up on Spencer’s doorstep in tears after the email reveals their sexuality.

A/n: This is my first fanfic after coming out; it’s great to be back to writing. I wrote this after something similar happened to me a few days ago! I hope you guys enjoy!

Spencer wasn’t expecting them to just…arrive on his doorstep. He knew, realistically, when he told them his door was always open, that they were bound to show up one day; he just wasn’t anticipating it to be in the pouring rain, with tears streaming down their face.

He opened the door, and the atmosphere they’d brought was overpowering sadness. The rain made their skin glisten under his porch light, and he would’ve taken into consideration how…magnificently picturesque Y/n looked in the rain, if they weren’t crying and shivering.

“Did you read it?”

Spencer furrowed his brows and shook his head dazedly, “Read what-are you okay?”

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, wiping tears and rain off their cheeks in one fluid motion. This, they had determined, was a safe place, and Reid didn’t know yet, so they finally had the choice to choose who knew. “Can I come in?” They weakly asked. Spencer nodded his head vigorously.

“Yeah, of course, do you want…I dunno, coffee, or something?”

“Um…do you…” Y/n paused to catch their breath. Their voice came out small and fragile as they glanced down at the phone screen that suddenly seemed to bright and loud. It was blowing up with messages-worried messages, from their team at the BAU. “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Spencer let out a fond smile “You think I wouldn’t stock up when you’re always here? I always have, like, three tubs just for you.”

He hoped that one gesture showed them that he was someone who thought about them. Someone who was caring, and would do anything to show their devotion to them. Reid wanted a jar of hot chocolate powder to prove that he was worth loving.

“Thank you.” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper as they collapsed onto Spencer’s couch, wrapping themselves up tightly in one of his extensive blankets, letting out one sigh of relief.

“No problem.”

Y/n could see him reaching for his phone, and suddenly shot up off the couch, blanket discarded in what could only be described as blind panic. “Don’t open your emails.” They ominously said, and Spencer put his phone down, waiting for the hot water to boil.

He raised one eyebrow, looking into Y/n’s eyes, hoping to analyse something, anything, that could help him understand what was going on “Are you on the run?”

Y/n snorted at the very thought “Me? Are you kidding me? No!”

“You’re just acting like…I dunno, like…you’re running from something,” Y/n went to yell at him for analysing them, and he raised his hands in surrender, stirring the freshly made hot chocolate “I’m not analysing, I’m just being observant! You want marshmallows?”

“Yes please. And I’m…maybe I am running.”

Spencer paused what he was doing, mid-plopping in the fluffy marshmallows he knew Y/n preferred over any other brand. He asked Garcia to look into their shopping history once to make sure he had the perfect type. She had teased him relentlessly with cheesy nicknames, but had relented and told him. And he had almost bought out the whole store “From the team? That’s why you’re telling me not to look at emails, right?”

Y/n sighed. What the hell, he was going to find out when they turned up for work the next day, anyway. This way, they could decide how he was told. “You know that case we’re working on? We theorized the unsub got off on revealing his victims secrets?”

Spencer handed her the hot chocolate “There you go.”

“Thanks”

“Didn’t we also theorise that he couldn’t have revealed their secrets because he didn’t have the skills to do so?” Spencer asked, more nervous about what could have possibly happened. It was a local case, one they didn’t have to travel for, but it was by far one of the most puzzling they’d encountered

Y/n paused as they sipped their hot chocolate. It was steaming; it almost took the skin off their tongue; it was so hot. But they bared it, swallowing harshly. “We were wrong. He does, or he has someone doing it for him. Anyway, he must’ve been there at that second crime scene, because he found out…information. On all of us.”

Now Reid understood why they were so upset. Y/n had something personal shared “I’m sure we all know everyone’s secrets. We tell each other everything.”

Y/n winced. Spencer placed a comforting hand over theirs. “Right?”

Truthfully, Y/n knew how Spencer would react when they told him. It would be a relief once he had congratulated them, hugged them, and continued a different conversation. Y/n knew all this, but saying the words felt unsavoury in their mouth, like sandpaper and cotton. They looked Spencer in the eyes, and felt fear. “Spencer…” they had to pause, wiping their eyes again.

Spencer was distracting. He was running a comforting hand over theirs, and they worried once they told him, the gesture would stop. “it’s ok. Take your time.”

“He…he…” Y/n wanted to scream it: he outed me, and it sucks so much. Instead, they were stuck gaping like a fish out of water. “I’m [y/sexuality].” They managed to blurt out all at once. Spencer looked sad. He nodded in understanding.

“The unsub outed you?” Spencer said, sighing as Y/n nodded tearfully “Y/n, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

Y/n cried. They cried as if their life depended on it, and Spencer accepted them, holding them as they did so, waiting for the sobs to die down. “They had pictures of me and some of my partners…and that damn secret blog I made when I was sixteen and still working it out. And…now everyone knows Spencer…” the cries started up again.

Spencer rubbed their back. “It’s ok. The choice was taken from you, and that sucks. But you have to think about who you have around you. The BAU isn’t exactly the straightest group out there.”

Y/n looked up at him, confused and overwhelmed. As far as they knew, the only person there who was LGBT was them, and that was something they were willing to take to the grave if it meant that their team would treat them differently “What?”

Spencer looked back, almost in disbelief, “You mean, you don’t know? Everyone’s open about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

This was when Spencer began to laugh “Oh my god! Emily; Lesbian, Me; Bisexual Gray-Ace, Derek; Pansexual, and Garcia!”

“Garcia is too?!” Y/n’s mouth was hung open in pure dumbfounded shock “That’s statistically, like, so many gays in one workplace.”

Spencer laughed “Nah, Garcia is just a really enthusiastic supporter. How did you not know—we all have our flags on our desks!”

Y/n let out a shocked gasp even more “That’s what those are? I thought they were for, like, a secret society you guys had formed without me!”

“No, are you kidding!” He let out another loud guffaw

Y/n blushed, rubbing a hand to their neck in sheer embarrassment “I guess I was just too wrapped up in myself” They admitted, prompting Spencer to shuffle closer, until he could wrap a big, lanky arm around them.

“Sorry you didn’t get to come out on your terms.” He smiled, placing a kiss to their forehead. It was well meaning, but Y/n’s felt electric when his lips were against their skin. They outwardly sighed, relaxing for the first time since the email had been sent. “Were you the only one it happened to?”

Y/n thought back to the contents of the email reflectively, “No, I think everyone got something revealed. Even you, but it was just…”

Spencer nodded as his eyes widened “Was it about Dilaudid?” Y/n let out a sad nod as Spencer scoffed loudly at the thought of this Unsub tracking them all down. “Of course, the unsub probably saw me going to one of my meetings.”

Y/n nodded, realising it was their turn to comfort “Most people knew about it, though, which means he made a mistake, one we could analyse with the team.”

“You’re ready to go and see them?” He asked. Y/n gave out a slow and steady nod “You sure.”

“It’s either now or later,” They sighed, before slapping their knees and raising to stand “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Spencer rose with them, smiling, extending a hand for Y/n to take, which they did, graciously “Together?”

Y/n wiped some of the left over tears from their face before giving his hand a firm squeeze, downing the final mouthful of hot chocolate as if it were liquid courage, “Yeah. Together.”

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#Criminal Minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #bau x reader

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kumeko · 4 years ago

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A/N: For the Bnha LBGTQ+ zine! Thank you for being an inclusive zine. 😊 I wanted to do some queer exploration for Nejire, grappling with confusion as she grows before accepting who she is.

…

“Kiss,” Nejire read aloud, her chubby fingers tracing the word in the picture book. Seated in her mother’s lap, she leaned closer to the book, eyes wide as she observed the image of a prince leaning down to kiss the princess.

“You read it right,” her mother praised, beaming brightly. “The prince kisses the princess, breaking the curse.”

Nejire glanced up at her mom, then at the book she was patiently holding open. “Kiss,” she repeated. “Mommy, what’s it taste like?”

“Taste?” Her mother laughed, surprised. She hummed lightly. “Now that’s a question…what does it taste like? What’s your most favourite thing in the whole world?”

Nejire snorted. That was easy. “Candy,” she replied immediately.

“I should have guessed.” Letting go of the book with a hand, her mother tousled Nejire’s hair affectionately. “Then that’s what a kiss tastes like.”

-x-

Her first kiss tasted like cotton candy. In the shadows behind her school, Nejire clumsy kissed her classmate and tasted the chapstick on her lips. In retrospect, it was a clumsy kiss, filled with fumbling hands, bumping noses, and clacking teeth. At the moment, though, Nejire noticed none of that. Her heart beat fast as she gripped Tohru’s shoulders. Her face, her hands, her everything was warm, almost hot, and she tried to remember how to breathe as their lips pressed one another.

Tohru had the prettiest long, brown hair, and Nejire had spent hours fantasizing running her hands through it. Doing it now, her fingers felt awkward and sticky, like she would tear out her hair before her hand managed to comb through it all. The tips of her other hand brushed against Tohru’s neck, against the soft skin there. She was too nervous to raise them higher, to rest her palm on Tohru’s cheek.

Breathless, they finally broke apart. Nejire panted as she tried to steady herself. A bright-red Tohru slumped onto her knees, chest heaving as she looked everywhere but at Nejire.

It was cute. Terribly cute. Nejire slowly crouched down till they were at same height again and smiled. “Want to do it again?”

Tohru squeaked.

-x-

Her second kiss was the sharp sting of a slap. Nejire reeled backwards, automatically clutching her cheek as she backed away from her classmate, Arisa. Unfortunately, in their eight-grade classroom, there was nowhere to go. Desks penned her in from her sides and behind her, Minako stood, her smile dark and malicious.

It was afterschool. Her teacher and other classmates were all long gone, the classroom empty save for her and five girls. One in front, one behind; Nejire looked at her right, glancing at the remaining three as she hoped for help. None of them said anything. Arms crossed, identical glares on their faces, they might as well have been mannequins for the support they offered.

Arisa shook her hand, wincing. “Damn, that hurt.”

Nejire gritted her teeth. Fine, she could handle this herself. She growled, “What was that for?”

“It was to wake you up,” Arisa replied, rolling her eyes. Not even paying attention to her anymore, she massaged her hand. “I should have just tossed water on you and been done with it.”

“To wake me up?” Nejire frowned, perplexed. “The hell, I am awake.”

“Clearly you’re not,” Minako snorted inelegantly. She stomped her foot on the ground. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” More and more, she wondered if something was wrong with her hearing, if she had swapped bodies or timelines and didn’t know it.

“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Arisa grimaced, her nose scrunching and brow furrowing. “You kissed Tohru.”

Nejire looked at Arisa, and then at Minako. “Yeah?” She rubbed her ears, maybe she really did need to get her hearing checked. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Whats…” Flabbergasted, Arisa stared at her for a long moment before massaging her forehead. “Are you serious?”

“It’s unnatural!” Minako interrupted, obviously ready for this to be over. “You kissed a girl. You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Why?” Nejire stepped toward Arisa and tried not to feel hurt when she stepped away. “Why not?”

“I can’t believe we have to start there—no wonder your grades suck. Just like your Quirk.” Arisa laughed and as if on cue, the other girls chimed in. In the small room, their laughter surrounded Nejire, swirling around her as though it were alive. “Tohru’s a girl, you’re a girl. You’re supposed to kiss boys.”

“But—”

“No buts. You’re not that stupid, are you?” Arisa flipped her hair over her shoulder and strolled away. “Don’t worry, we talked to Tohru about this.”

When Tohru stopped talking to her the next day, it felt worse than the slap.

-x-

Her third kiss tasted like peppermint, strong and sharp. Hidden in the trees by the playground, Nejire grabbed Hiro and kissed him. Just like with Tohru, she had to take the first step. Unlike with Tohru, there wasn’t any chapstick to taste, just the overbearing taste of peppermint, of a breath spray used a few too many times.

It was strange. Really strange. Nejire opened her eyes, studying the boy in front of her. His hands rested nervously on her hips, his eyes squeezed shut. Part of her liked this overly worried boy, this boy who gave her the shyest of smiles. His voice had shook when he’d confessed to her.

Would she have liked him if Tohru hadn’t stopped talking to her? It was a question without an answer. His lips were rougher than Tohru’s but the kiss was just as clumsy, just as awkward. Their faces fit together, somehow, but Nejire hadn’t figured out the placement just yet. Her skin burned, just like it had with Tohru’s, and her hands buried into his soft, dark tufts of hair. This time, her fingers didn’t get stuck in the short, curly locks.

She felt the same rise of excitement, the same heat running through her spine and curling her toes. The thrill was the same, whether it was Tohru or Hiro she kissed. The thrill was the same, the joy was the same, and why did one get her attacked and the other ignored?

It didn’t make any sense.

-x-

Her fourth to twelfth kisses were done secretly. Ever since that afternoon in the classroom, Nejire didn’t like getting caught with her crushes. In empty stairwells and locked classrooms, she tasted cherries and spearmint and the remnants of lunch on her peers’ lips. With each kiss, the taste grew more and more diluted, until all she could perceive was water.

Each kiss grew easier, more graceful. She learned how to place her nose, how to press her lips. Her hands threaded through hair like it was silk and her tongue shyly peeked out of her lips as she mastered the art of French kissing.

And when she grew weary of it all, she’d disappear into the library and quietly look up books on romance. Men saving damsels, women smiling at one another in coffee shops, two guys taking a ride to nowhere; she devoured each tale as though it were fact.

Lesbian. Gay. Bisexual. Nejire repeated each label, but none of them sounded right. None of them fit quite right. She poured through books on gender identities and sexual identities—if girls tasted of lip gloss and boys of breath spray, what did non-binaries taste of? Did she hate her clothes or her gender?

Whatever the answer, Arisa had been wrong. Utterly wrong. There was nothing strange about kissing a girl.

-x-

Her thirteenth kiss was a surprise. The moment she entered the Hero Academy, Nejire stopped thinking about kisses, about labels, about romance. There were too many new things to do, people to meet, and despite what her mother said, her kisses no longer tasted like candy. Besides, she had made two good friends in high school, two people whose quirks were just as bad as hers. Two people who were just as motivated to improve. They met up everyday after class, training in the yard until they had to crawl home from exhausted.

So, she hadn’t expected anything when she’d jogged behind Mirio, building up her stamina. Hadn’t thought of what would happen when she’d tripped over a rock, yelping as she fell.

“Nejire!” Mirio whirled around, his reflexes sharp as he reached out to grab her.

Her own arms were windmilling, trying to keep her upright. It wasn’t enough and she crashed into him, slamming them both onto the hard ground. Their lips connected, their teeth hitting each other like they had in her first few kisses, and she briefly tasted oranges and sunshine.

They lay there, groaning. Her forehead ached from hitting his and slowly she sat up, rubbing it. “Ouch.”

“Y-yeah.” Mirio’s voice was an octave higher. Maybe it was because she was sitting on him, cutting off his air. “You o-okay.”

“Yeah. You?” She glanced down at him, blinking in surprise when she noticed his cherry red skin. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Can’t breathe?”

“N-no.” He laughed nervously, his eyes averted as he looked everywhere but at her. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she was reminded of someone else having that same reaction, of someone else looking like a cute mess, but the memory was too distant and it slipped out of her fingers. “S-sorry.”

“Why? I hit you.” She cocked her head, bemused.

“B-because.” He blushed, turning into a tomato now. “We…we…k-k-kissed.”

Nejire stared at him, her eyes wide. So that was what she’d tasted before. She hit her fist on her hand, comprehending everything. “OH!”

“Y-yeah,” Mirio nodded, still looking embarrassed.

“Oh.” Nejire licked her lips, remembering the tart taste. Unlike her last kiss, this one hadn’t been like water at all. Still sitting on his torso, she pressed her hands on his chest. Beneath her, Mirio’s eyes were wide, his skin red, his flyaway hair a mess. It was cute. Beaming, she asked, “Want to do it again?”

In response, he turned an even darker shade of red and disappeared into the ground with a surprised squeak.

-x-

Her fifteenth kiss was on purpose. By the time she’d reached second year, she considered Mirio and Tamaki not just her favourite people, but her best friends. There was something about them that never failed to bring a smile on her face. Even when they were studying, which was her least favourite thing in the world. Sitting in the library, she resisted the urge to slump on the table as she stared at her math homework. They were at a school for heroics. She did not want to learn algebra. Chewing on her lip, she glared at the paper, willing the answers to come.

Tamaki glanced at her nervously, his hands fiddling with his pencil. Despite how long they’d known each other, he never looked entirely comfortable when they were alone. “Are you stuck?”

“Yeah.” Nejire sighed, annoyed. “Hey, hey, do we really have to learn this?”

“Yeah. It’s a requirement.” He sunk into his chair slightly, looking depressed. “It’s the only thing I’m good at. Why am I here?”

Nejire immediately wrapped an arm around him, knowing exactly what to say. “Because you’re amazing and a hard worker.” She beamed brightly at him. “Hey, hey, if you can beat these numbers, you can beat any villain.”

Tamaki flushed at her praise and squirmed in his seat. He hunched over, trying to hide his face. “It’s not that amazing.”

“It is,” she insisted. “Extremely amazing. Super amazing.”

“You…” Flustered, he looked up at her, his expression shy. “I’m not...”

Cute, she thought. So very cute. And then, without thinking beyond that, she leaned forward and kissed him. He tasted of octopus and cinnamon, of the meals he’d consumed in his earnest attempt to improve his quirk.

Tamaki fell off his chair before she pulled away, and that was cute too.

-x-

Her fourteenth kiss was in gratitude. Nejire had three good friends in high school, and her third one was Yuyu. Now that they lived in dorms, they alternated every night over who’s room they visited, carrying with them an assortment of creams and nail polishes. Tonight they were in Yuyu’s room, surrounded by bright pastel colours and posters of fashion models.

Yuyu held up a bottle in the light. Inside, blue and yellow swirled around one another, touching but never mixing. “This is an interesting shade. I wonder how they do that.”

“Magic,” Nejire suggested, grinning as she carefully applied topcoat to her nails. The clear liquid gave her nails a glossy look. “Hey, hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Looking away from the bottle, Yuyu nodded. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I…” Nejire chewed her lip. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t know where to start. She thought of cotton candy, of peppermint, of water. Of the sharp sting of a slap. “I…” Yuyu looked at her expectantly, no judgement on her face. “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?” Yuyu raised a brow.

“Kisses. Love.” Nejire waved her hands in front of her helplessly, not sure of what words to use. “I just don’t get it.”

“Ooh, romance.” Yuyu sat down on her bed and patted beside her. “Tell me everything.”

Nejire plopped down next to her, feeling immediately at ease. “I…I’ve kissed girls.” She paused, glancing at Yuyu, but she didn’t say anything, just impatiently gesturing for her to go on. Feeling emboldened, she continued. “And I’ve kissed boys.” She stared down her hands, at the topcoat drying. Her tongue felt heavy.

“Hmmm.” Yuyu opened the nail polish bottle and gently took one of Nejire’s hands. Slowly, she started to apply a coat. Nejire felt a tingle run up her spine at the attention. “And what’s the problem?”

“That’s just it, I don’t get what the problem is.” Now that she’d started, the words just poured out in a rush. “What’s wrong with kissing girls? It’s not the same as kissing boys, but it’s just as good.”

Yuyu’s tone was as kind as her touch. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Really?” Nejire blinked. Whatever words she’d expected, those weren’t it.

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with it.” Yuyu looked up mischievously, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “If anything, I think there’s something wrong with kissing boys.”

That was something she hadn’t heard before. Nejire knit her brow. “But it feels just as good.”

“To you, yeah, but not to me.” Yuyu shrugged. “I think girls are just better.” Pulling back now, she let go of Nejire’s hand. “What do you think? How does it look?”

She looked down at her nails to find they were coated in swirls of blue and yellow, each nail looking different from each other. Nejire held them up to the light, eyes bright as she admired the patterns. “Wow! Hey, hey, you’re great at this.”

“Of course I am.” Yuyu puffed her chest with pride. “I know fashion.”

“Thanks!” Nejire wrapped her arms around her friend tightly, making sure to keep her hands clear. After all that hard work, she couldn’t smudge the finish. Kissing Yuyu on the cheek, she murmured. “Really, thanks.”

“It’s what friends are for.” Yuyu leaned her head against Nejire’s. “And don’t ruin those nails.”

“I won’t,” Nejire swore.

“Great. Now please tell me that wasn’t the only love problem you have.” Yuyu pulled away, frowning. “Come on, my love life is dead, tell me yours isn’t.”

“Well…” Nejire hummed contemplatively before grinning broadly. “I like Mirio and Tamaki.”

“Huh?” Yuyu’s jaw dropped and speechless, she gestured with her hands in lieu of words. None of those signals could be found in any sign language dictionary, which was a loss to the world. Recovering, she managed, “Both of them? Seriously?”

“I like their taste,” Nejire replied, fanning her hand lightly to help it dry faster.

“That’s…not really an answer.” Yuyu sighed, shaking her head. “Well, at least you’re getting enough love for the two of us.”

-x-

Her next kiss was unknown. It could be far into the future. It could be today. Nejire stood in Mirio’s room, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she looked down at Mirio and Tamaki. They sat awkwardly on his bed, fidgeting slightly as they tried to figure out why they were here.

“Is something wrong?” Mirio asked, concern in his voice.

Nejire shook her head. “The opposite.” Her heart was beating a million miles a second and her palms were sweaty, but she knew where she stood now. She knew what she wanted and so the words tumbled out of her easily. “Hey, hey, I like you. Both of you.”

She smiled brightly. No matter what they’re reaction was, she was ready for it. Her nails were still painted that blue-yellow and Yuyu had hot chocolate ready, so even if she was rejected, she could handle it. Nejire was resilient and she was strong, and even if this didn’t pan out, there were other candy-like kisses out there. She just had to find them.

Still, as she watched Tamaki’s and Mirio’s skin flush a bright red, she hoped the answer was yes. Nejire had always had a greedy streak, after all.

#boku no hero academia #mirio togata #nejire hadou #tamaki amakiji #haya yuuyu #bnha #fanfic

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Monsters of the Museum || Dakota and Morgan

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @dakotasgrant & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Dakota and Morgan try to open up to one another. Some things are scarier than glass-cased monstrosities.

CONTAINS: Mentions of alcoholism, parental abuse, death, and car accident

Despite the weird shit that happened when she and Morgan hung out last, Dakota still felt as though she needed to water this seed, because when it came to everyone else in town so far… Well, this was the only one that was growing. She felt a little bad about getting defensive, and she had already planned on apologizing again once she saw Morgan at the museum, but… Well, technically what she’d said had been true. Morgan knew a sensitive detail about Dakota, but she didn’t really know her. And if she was going to take her only friend’s advice when it came to making more friends, then she needed to know more about Morgan first.

The museum had been her own idea, and even as she sat on the steps waiting patiently for her company to arrive, she still thought it would be fun with or without her. In an effort to be a nicer person, though, she did have two coffees set by her side, her hands in her pockets. She hoped Morgan liked hot bean water sans cream and sugar.

Morgan’s nerves prickled like needles as she pulled up to the museum. For all the effort they’d put into their pop up display during the carnival, the actual building was kind of dull looking, like a refurbished old train station no one had ever cared about. She steadied herself, trying to narrate a version of this visit to herself that both didn’t end with more attempted theft, or factual education, and had her leave with her conscience intact. She couldn’t exactly coax Dakota into making a scene while she smashed her way through reclaiming some supernatural artifacts to restore to their rightful communities, like she had with Deirdre. Nothing came to mind, so maybe she would just ignore everything in the museum and focus on the conversation around them. They were here to get to know each other. She didn’t need to worry about corpses being disrespected by being called creations and elaborate hoaxes, or photographs of supernaturals who hadn’t wanted to be seen dismissed, or magic relics categorized as superstition. She would be fine, and the afternoon with Dakota would be a good one.

Morgan finally got out of her Subaru and jogged up to meet her friend. “Hey! It’s a great day to be inside where it’s warm, huh? Let’s go, yeah?” She offered a hand to help Dakota up. “I tried to come up with some kind of random fact like they make you come up with in cheesy ice breakers on the way but--” I was too distracted by knowing how much wrongful nonsense you’re about to fall for in here. “--I just couldn’t. I’ve had some memorable shitty jobs in the past? I used to have an online crystal shop? My cat that’s been with me the longest, Anya, liked to be walked on a leash and harness?” She held open the door for them as they went in. “What I’m trying to say is, I will try to be as much of an open book as possible, okay?” And as long as they kept talking, how hard could that be?

She stepped onto the shiny tile floor and came face to face with half a dozen dull-eyed, incorporeal school children in their uniforms. She squealed, covering her mouth a second too late and jumped back close to Dakota. “Sorry! This place is just--” Haunted. Full to the brim and fucking haunted within an inch of its life. Morgan couldn’t look in any direction without catching sight of at least two spirits hovering near the display cases. Shit, shit, shit. “--so impressive! Like, way more than I thought it would be!”

Dakota was a little bit more excited than she wanted to admit, especially when Morgan showed up. She wasn’t the kind of person she ever thought she’d be friends with -- she was quirky, and weird, and confusing… But she was bright and bubbly and seemed to be this kind of oddly positive, always “chipper” sort of person. Which, as anyone could see, was the complete opposite of herself. But it made her happy to see that even if she was such a cynic, the people around her could still exist in this sort of.. Care-free innocence, it seemed. Of course, that was all her own perception, but she still firmly believed that Morgan did have some sort of sweet innocence to her, whether or not that was actually true. And she was also a firm believer that being friends with someone like Morgan was the closest she’d ever come to being that bright and bubbly and kind and sweet.

“Hey,” she greeted, but within a short amount of time she was bombarded with words. She forgot that Morgan did that, but this time it was slightly more endearing than the last. From a crystal shop to her cat, she did realize that all she was trying to do was tell her that she was going to be as genuine as possible. Whether or not Dakota chose to believe whatever she was about to say for the next few hours was up for discussion, but who would lie about a cat being walked on a harness? “Right, yeah -- Um. I guess I just wanted to know more about who you are as a person, you know?” she began, holding the door for the both of them to shuffle in. “So, let’s start with --” she began, but was quickly shut up by Morgan’s reaction to the museum.

While Dakota was impressed by the tile and artwork, Morgan seemed to have jumped back only a few moments after being inside -- as if she’d just seen a scary bug. This forced Dakota’s brows to knit together, looking at her in pure confusion. “Uh.. Yeah, I guess so..” It’s not that impressive. “I mean, it’s just a museum -- in my opinion. Have you been to the MET? I heard it’s crazy nice in there.”

“Uh…” Morgan winced with genuine embarrassment. “Sorry. I think my bar was just set really low. I mean, stars, they even have headsets! Not that I want one, you can’t really be with someone when you’re doing that.” Another nervous smile. She glared at the school children floating in front of them in a way that she hoped said, get lost. But they only glanced at Dakota with their cataract eyes and floated, dripping, back to the display case they seemed bound to. Morgan side stepped them carefully as she started down the nearest open corridor. “I did go to the MET actually! It’s so incredible, I didn’t even get to see half of it. It was just a few hours, when I took that trip to New York City with my girlfriend. We wanted our second day to be more chill and get back to our room before Times Square got too crowded, so we just walked the parts of the MET together that we could, popped out and found a bakery, and walked to a historical cemetery after. But here was this great collection of Dutch and German renaissance art and some pottery from indigenous tribes from the southwest. You should go, if you ever get the chance. I just, you know, didn’t think it would be this nice or roomy here.” She cleared her throat, hiding the impulse to seize up at the sight of a headless woman drifting up and down the corridor with them, phasing through half the patrons as she did.

“I’m not really sure how to define what kind of person I am,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to gather herself better. “I feel like I’m in a state of flux. I’m afraid you really will just have to play detective on that one.”

In the spirit of trying to make friends, Dakota tried her best to ignore the way Morgan was acting at the moment. If she’d been to the MET, she shouldn’t have been this surprised by the roominess of the museum… But, of course, she had to remind herself of Morgan’s excitability, and simply dismissed the issue. You can’t dismiss everything entirely, though can you? She didn’t want to think about that. The Nordica was weeks ago, and she hadn’t seen anything other than a big open showfloor with a few intrigued patrons wandering. All who seemed normal, all who seemed human, and no sign of anything with horns, so.. Maybe that’s just how Morgan was. Excitable. A little strange. Definitely weird. All true statements, sure, but she was also a friend.

“Everyone’s always in flux, Morgan. That’s sort of what life does to people. So tell me about your stages, and… I guess I’ll tell you mine.” she stated -- not in a malicious or rude manner, because to Dakota, she was just stating facts. If she listed all the changes she’s been through in the last 30 years of her life, she was sure she could come up with a way she was changing even now, approaching 40 in the next three years. Ooh, don’t think about that, either. They started at the Mutated Dog Remains exhibit, which was really just a bunch of old bones reassembled that showed minor mutations, but she had to admit they all looked rather large. The plaque below a particularly strange looking resemblance of a creature that must have died a while ago mentioned the word hellhound, but debunked the term by stating it was an urban legend, a made-up story, folklore.

“I know that you’re a lesbian, and a wiccan, and that you like deathly stuff. I know you had a best friend when you were younger that made you realize you were gay, and I know you have a girlfriend, and I know you’ve been to New York City. I also know that you have a cat. I guess the reason we’re here is because -- I mean, if you want to talk to me about letting people get to know me, least of all Marley Stryder, then I think it’s fair that I get to know the person who’s giving this crazy advice. So what’s the stuff you never tell anybody? Or were your parents like, happy when you were a kid?”

“Well, I flux more or harder than most people,” Morgan said with a low laugh. “And that’s three cats, total. I got Anya in Houston, and my girlfriend and I got Moira together, and we took in Niamh when her owner, a friend of ours, died suddenly late last year.” She couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking her head ruefully now as the suggestion that her parents were happy. “Oh, stars above, no. I mean, we tried. They tried. And we had moments, like most families, and that’s what I try to focus on but…” Another dry laugh. How did you explain, ‘well my mom was magically cursed with true suffering and shared that curse with me when I was born, so!’ “It was really complicated. My mother was…a really hurt woman. She did what she thought was best, but by the time she had me, her perception of ‘best’ had been warped by a lot of fear and bad experiences. She was really accepting of me when I came out, but that didn't really make all the times she dragged me screaming to my room and locked me in for awhile go away, you know?” Morgan winced, wondering if this was already oversharing. “I’m okay now, obviously,” she hastened to say. “I was just raised under some really specific circumstances that are hard for a lot of people to understand.”

“More or harder than most people?” Dakota repeated, trying her best not to sound judgmental. Lord knows she was the last person to judge, but.. It still came somewhat natural to her. Gotta work on that. She listened, though, about the cats -- reading plaque after plaque of random artifacts that didn’t look more or less interesting than what she could find at Pottery Barn. The place was probably filled with hoaxes, but she wasn’t about to comment, because.. God, wasn’t she so tired of being cynical all the time? Despite her overall standoffishness, Dakota really did care about what Morgan had to say. She could relate in a lot of ways to the story she told -- the half truths she was narrating. She’d been locked in her room before, but probably not for too long, because she always found a way out. And the more she thought about it, it was probably because dad was angry, and nobody wanted to be around when he started yelling. He never hit, though. If she loved him for anything other than ABBA, it was because he never hit. But she wasn’t going to tell Morgan any of that. Fucking hypocrite, she thought to herself. Asking this woman to bare her deepest darkest secrets while you can’t even tell her the truth. If there was one good intention of Dakota’s, though, it was that she cared about Morgan, and if she wanted to get any closer than an arm’s length, she’d need to read the footnotes. “Kind of sounds like Sparknotes there, Beck.” she said, tucking her hands into the pockets of the coat she was wearing while they aimlessly strolled the museum. “You don’t have to go any deeper than that if you don’t want. I’m just.. Saying that you can. If that’s what you want.”

“Wow,” Morgan said, laughing unsteadily. “And here I thought I was oversharing.” She shifted a little closer to Dakota, dodging the spectre of a man with burnt, twisted limbs. He glowered at her, condemning her denial of him. “I’m sorry,” she hissed under her breath. And she was. But smashing glass and striking up conversation with the air in a room full of normies wasn’t going to fix anything. “Um, if you pick a number that’s a multiple of three I can give you the Nightline Edition of some quality trauma. We can pull up one of those number generators on my phone if we really want to play with fate.” She laughed at her own bad joke. No one knew better than her that fate didn’t let you play when she’d made up her mind. It had only been, what, fifteen minutes from the banshee scream on her life to the rebar pole skewering her insides? “Last year counts too,” she added. “I’m not trying to be cagey on purpose. Shockingly, I am actually trying not to scare you off by dumping too much all at once.”

She stopped in front of a framed photograph of the Bachman House, now a pile of rubble in the bend. The placard mentioned the number of unusual deaths on the property, with the usual highlights of trampled by own horse, impaled by own farm tools, unlucky trip down stairs, and those were just the ones that could be ruled by accidents. On the other balcony, she could see teeth in glass boxes and a singular framed wing. “Can I ask you something first?” Morgan asked, her eyes settling into an empty middle distance where there was nothing to see, nothing to hide, no problem. “Where do you think all this stuff comes from? The stories, the pain around it all. What do you believe about it?”

“A multiple of three, huh?” Dakota inquired, mainly just to amuse her. If she was going to be friends with Morgan, it was quite obvious that she was going to have to play by her rules -- meaning that she probably would have to settle for the goofiness, or the kindness, or the sunshine and rainbows of it all. Weirdest part about all of that was the fact that Dakota usually scoffed at people who seemed to be full of so much joy. What the fuck was there to be joyful about, ever? You’re born, you live, you work for fifty years or so, and you die. The monotony of life… The mundanity of it all. So what the fuck was Morgan Beck even smiling about, even if she did have a Nightlife Edition highlight reel of her trauma ready to share? Jesus, dude, go to therapy.

Morgan caught her off guard, just a tad, with her next question. Where did she think all of this stuff came from? What does she believe about all of it? Dakota simply shrugged, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, which was a first. “I.. Guess the bones come from a bunch of different animals. Some of the artifacts have to be mass produced or ordered off, like, Etsy. The pictures and stuff? Well, anyone can go up to a creepy looking house that hasn’t had any tender love and care for a few decades and make up a story.” Dakota paused, bringing her attention back to the Bachman house. “I guess that’s what it is, in a nutshell. People wanting to believe things bad enough. People wanting other people to believe them bad enough. But the key is in making up the story -- because you can’t spell believe without L-I-E.”

Dakota let a lull in the conversation pass, tucking her hands back into her pockets, wandering off from the picture.“I pick 27, by the way. For the multiples thing.” she tossed over her shoulder.

Morgan nodded along. She couldn’t fault Dakota for speaking so callously without knowing how it all tied to Morgan. And there was some kind of awful experience sitting under her stiffness, something that made her mistrust goodness and acceptance. “I’ll give you a two for one special,” she said quietly. “The house in that picture is mine. And everything in that placard is true. I have the documents from the town archives to prove it. And there’s a few more deaths that happened off the property tied to my family. There was a servant girl named Constance who wanted to run away with one of the Bachman daughters, Agnes. They were found out by Agnes’ mother, Hannah Bachman, and the story suddenly went from a desperate romantic getaway to coercion. Constance didn’t have any family or friends to stick up for her, so word of her preying upon the innocent Bachman daughter spread, and she spent about a month living in the woods like an animal until she finally died.” Died because she surrendered her form to power a generational curse, but Morgan didn’t feel like arguing those particulars with a skeptic. “There are some truly horrible, inexplicable things that happen here that are just as real as the morning weather.”

She turned to Dakota, smiling sadly. “When I was twenty-seven, I was supposed to be finishing up my Masters’ in literature. I was living in this nice apartment with some other students and one of them was in my program. And she was so beautiful, and I would’ve done anything for her except say I liked her. One day I’m making sun tea and she pulls me aside about something, how behind on my share of the rent I am, and it’s going okay, but I decide to start opening up about--” The curse. Stupidly, she’d tried to tell her about the curse. “Some of the smaller crises that were going on, and she didn’t believe me and got really upset. And...okay, so the super swore later on that he had replaced all the windows so they were double insulated. This one windowpane had been missed. So when the girl threw one of my plants at the window, the whole thing shattered. I went to pick up the glass and she wanted me to stay away from her, and she pushed me, but because of the glass around her, she also cut herself and slipped and she went backwards just right out the window and fell through what was left of it. We were on the fourth floor, so…” Morgan winced. “Everyone heard us screaming before then, and my standing over the window-- I mean, it was so fast I was too late before I even tried to get close enough to catch her-- it didn’t look good, and they made me re-hash everything we’d been talking about and they didn’t like or believe it either, so I spent the evening answering questions from the authorities, and being yelled at by my roommates, and packing up my stuff. Then came the psych evaluation, which I was too anxious and scared to refuse, and that was pretty scary. And by that time it was eight o’clock or something, so I holed up in a Whataburger for a little bit and then drove around our college town trying to figure out where I was supposed to go next. I got a shitty little Motel 6 place for a few months before I could get leave of absence paperwork going and do depressed 20-something shit until I could start back again with a cohort that didn’t know me.” She thought back on that day, shivering at the memory of the body ragdolled on the gravel, the blood framing her and soaking her hair, the glare of the sun on her empty face… “Sometimes things just happen.” Sometimes they happened because the neutrality of the universe could hurt, and sometimes they happened because you were cursed to carry your great-great grandmother’s crimes on your shoulders.

Dakota had fully intended on continuing to browse the museum, already halfway to the next display whenever Morgan spoke up about the Bachman house. She listened, of course, but part of her didn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth. But she remembered something Erin had said a few weeks ago, something about how she herself had nothing to gain from lying to her, and Dakota couldn’t help but wonder if the same was true for Morgan. What would she have gained by lying to her? What would she get out of a story like that? Unless the woman standing before her was severely mentally ill, suffering from some sort of psychosis or a personality disorder, then what was Morgan getting out of lying about a picture of a house? She stopped in her path, turned back to look at her, and just as she was about to grill her for the evidence, she started talking about grad school.

Morgan shared, and after she’d finished, the exhibit they’d been standing in had been emptied of all people, most of whom had gone on to go see whatever else this place had to offer. Dakota didn’t mean to stare, but she was looking at Morgan for what felt like forever, and suddenly, deciding on whether or not the Bachman story was true wasn’t exactly the most pressing issue anymore. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured, because it was the only thing she really knew to say. She almost wanted to give Morgan a hug, but she wasn’t a touchy person, and she wasn’t even sure if they were close enough for that anyways, so she refrained. “Not sure I can follow that. You win on the trauma stories.”

“It’s not a contest,” Morgan said softly. “Honestly, it’s…” She exhaled slowly. It had been awful, yes. And it had taken her longer than usual to bounce back, to make friends without wanting to run or panic. She didn’t bother telling anyone about the curse at all after that, at least until White Crest. It was the kind of hurt you didn’t think about too much. Besides, there was always another one three years ahead. On and on until the day she died. “I’ve had worse. And it was over ten years ago. I don’t really, you know, think about it that much in the grand scheme of things. I have other, bigger things to worry about.” She did her best to brush it off as no big deal, but in the wake of the confession, she mostly felt bewilderment at her forming any attachments in White Crest at all. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, huh? I mean, I know you’ve shared a lot already, and I don’t mind talking more, I just don’t want to take all the air in here, either.” She looked sidelong at Dakota, unsure at how she was really taking all this. Did she think she was making this up? Did she think she was crazy?

Morgan was right. It wasn’t a competition. But if you did compare the two stories -- Dakota’s entire life and then the one incident that happened to Morgan when she was 27 -- Dakota would look like a spoiled goddamned brat. Of course, she could tell her about The Nordica… But she was still in denial about the events that unfolded that night. Erin was the only one she trusted enough to talk about that with because she was the only one she knew that had seen the event take place. She was the only one she really felt safe enough with to talk about the possibility that maybe that thing wasn’t just some rare animal, and maybe it was a monster. Regardless of that, though, it didn’t matter how many times Dakota showed up at Erin’s place to talk about it, because denial was more than just a river in Egypt. Dakota took the opportunity to lean against the railing that blocked museum goers from getting too close to any artifacts that weren’t held behind plexiglass, folded her arms over her chest and let out a little sigh. “I don’t feel like going by multiples of any particular number, so I’m just going to tell you everything, so try to keep up.” Here goes nothing. Or everything.

“I was born and raised in Detroit, but you knew that. It wasn’t the nice part of Detroit because we were really fucking poor. My mom worked at Valentino’s Diner on 8 Mile Road and I never saw her because she was always working -- double shifts, almost every day. I literally remember being a kid and dipping into the drug store to buy her cigarettes and dropping them off on my way home from school. My dad was an alcoholic. I still don’t really know much about him, but I know that he fell asleep in his recliner every night with old ass tv shows on with usually some type of scotch or brandy at his side. One time our house almost burnt down because he blacked out with a lit cigar in his hand -- he must’ve dropped it, because there was a huge cinched patch in our living room that we had to cut out of the carpet.” You’re really going for it, huh? “They fought… A lot. Because mom was doing the double shifts I told you about, and Dad bled their savings dry for booze, and they were always yelling at each other about money. When I was younger I remember asking my mom who “Bill” was. I used to think that we must have just had a lot of thunderstorms because the power kept going out, but really the power just kept getting shut off. Dad referred to her as a “ball and chain” to his buddies, but I think it was the other way around, because my mom was smart. And really fucking brave. And he knew that if he ever hit her, he’d be a dead man, because she wasn’t afraid to fight back. So I know what it’s like to be locked in your room. I didn’t understand then, but I know now that really she was just trying to protect me from seeing things I didn’t need to see, but must’ve forgot that I had ears. When I got older, I started sneaking out of my bedroom window when shit like that happened. Went and rode my bike, that sort of thing. I remember always being so pissed that I never knew what was going on, which is probably why I do what I do. I hate it when nobody knows what’s going on. All that misinformation..” she trailed off. Yeah, you’re one to talk. “Anyways, I was the poor kid with really greasy hair and hand-me-down clothes, and people talked. Kids are fucking assholes. But I took after my mom, because I’m pretty smart, too, and I worked my ass off and got to college. Chris -- my, uh, ex that I told you about -- he followed me. He was going to be a big businessman or whatever the fuck, and really I just wanted the stability, so.. I stayed. For a while. Then I ended up here. And you’d think that the bullshit would’ve stopped, but I know what it feels like to see someone die now, so.. I guess we’re on the same page there.”

“Oh, Dakota…” Morgan pulled her into her arms as best she could. “That’s not something you should have to know. Sorry doesn’t change anything, but… I am. And I don’t--I don’t think it’s too late for you to leave, if that’s what you want. This place is violent. Whatever, whoever you saw die...it’s just a lot more common here than it is in some other places. This place is violent and cruel and you have definitely suffered enough.” From Dakota’s expression, the same could maybe be said for her, but there was too much here. She felt bound to it, or maybe she was just mired and didn’t realize. “I know you’re just starting to find your way, but no one would blame you if you went.”

She pulled back, still touching the woman’s arm, lingering there. “Listen...if you…” Morgan hesitated. Dakota had made herself so vulnerable and Morgan knew exactly what she really wanted to know about her, and who was she to push Dakota to be more vulnerable and open with new people if she couldn’t even try to offer this? “Do you still really want to know what’s...why my body is the way that it is? Because I can tell you, or I can try to. But we should probably find somewhere to sit first.”

Can’t leave yet. “Yeah, but if I skipped town now, who would I cry to about personal shit in the middle of a museum full of hoaxes? Seriously, this is invaluable.” Dakota sounded a bit sarcastic, but she did mean it -- if she were to get the next plane ticket outta this place, she would most definitely be losing one of the only relationships she ever cared about in her life and leaving it behind. Even if White Crest was a cursed place, she’d still feel bad for leaving Morgan.

After she had pulled back from the hug -- which was accepted but not necessarily invited -- something was offered that had piqued her interest. An actual explanation as to why Morgan was the way that Morgan was. At least… Why her blood looked like tar and her skin healed at a superhuman speed. She was ready for the vegan preaching, and now a little more prepared for a cyborg arm than she had been before. If you can see Krampus in a movie theater, I’m sure doctors can create a superhuman arm. “I mean, I’d love to know, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she offered politely, even though she was practically crawling out of her skin with anticipation. “I think there’s a cafe near the entrance, if you wanna..?

Morgan glanced quickly at the cafe area and thought better of it. Too many people. If this went badly, she didn’t want to be the center of a scene. She looked around the gallery and found a relatively empty bench. Well, empty of living people. There was a rather large group of ghost pirates floating around a piece of a ship encased in glass. Morgan made her way toward them, making a face she hoped indicated that she wanted some privacy. The pirates, however, had been dead long enough to not care and just cleared the bench so no one would be sitting through their ghostly bodies.

Morgan shouldered off her jacket and sat very close to Dakota, who she pulled down with her. “So, last April I was kind of in an accident. There was this light malfunction and that caused this huge wreck and it was so fast there was debris everywhere. And I was um…” She winced, remembering. “I was on the sidewalk. I was supposed to go home after work, but I stopped for ice cream with my friend, at this little stand. And it was just some terrible Final Destination bullshit, but my foot was caught and I couldn’t run and then I was on the ground, and there was this…” That pole. That fucking pole of rebar. Morgan had seen it almost every night during those magic nightmares. She couldn’t talk about that, not without knowing how Dakota would take the truth. “It was really bad,” she said. “I don’t know what the best way to explain is, but you can track the….change in my pulse, my heartbeat.” She rolled up her sleeve and held out her wrist. “Will you see? Please?” Her voice trembled with trepidation. Already, she was scrambling to brace herself for the worst; trouble was, she didn’t really know what ‘worst’ looked like yet.

As Morgan ushered them over to a nearby bench, Dakota started to realize that maybe this was a bigger deal than just some blood disorder or bionic arm thing. Whatever it was, she still thought that Morgan would be a friend regardless, because you’re not friends with people just because their bodies function normally. Besides, even if it freaked her out, Morgan was the closest thing to a friend Dakota had ever had -- and she didn’t mean that lightly. Not when she’d grown up the outcast, and not when fitting in always felt like jamming a puzzle piece where it didn’t fit. As far as she was concerned, Morgan could admit she’d committed several murders and partook in some shady drug lord businesses and she’d probably still be her friend.

As they sat, and Morgan spoke about an accident, Dakota just listened. She was good at listening, but it was more of the “getting it” part she hadn’t mastered -- at least...not when it came to people. The accident she’d described seemed horrific enough. Something Dakota prayed to a God she didn’t believe in that would never happen to her. At first, she was confused as to why she needed to feel her pulse, but her voice trembled, and she could tell this was important to her, so.. She gave it a shot, even though she didn’t quite understand. Placing two fingers on her wrist, Dakota searched for her pulse. She tried several different spots, but she didn’t feel a single beat, and her skin was still ice cold. “So… You have a weak pulse? Because of the accident?” she asked.

“You have to hold it for longer than that,” Morgan hissed. “Here.” She took Dakota by the sleeve and pressed her hand over her heart, firmly, where it would’ve been easy for anyone to feel at least a faint impression of a heartbeat. Morgan held it, and held it, and held it. “I’m trying to tell you I don’t have one anymore,” she whispered. “But I’m trying to prove it to you first. You need to understand that this is real.” She drew in a deep breath (In. Hold. Out.) and made sure Dakota felt it. Her chest expanded, the air flowed, but only because she willed it consciously. There was nothing in her that regulated her existence, no internal rhythm to keep up. Her will and her steady feeding were the only things maintaining her existence. “You can try checking on my neck, you can ask me to hold my breath, whatever you feel like you need to do, but I am trying, very hard, to show you the truth.”

Maybe laughing was a knee-jerk response. Actually, she knew exactly why she started to laugh -- because people laugh when they need to project dignity and control during times of stress and anxiety. In situations like this one, right here and right now, when Dakota was confused on all fronts, and anxious because she knew the truth was that Morgan didn’t have a pulse, or a heartbeat, nor was there even the faintest thumb against the palm of her hand through her chest, her response was to laugh. If there was no pulse -- if there was no beat, no rhythm rattling around in her ribcage, then she must have been… She had to be… Dead. Right? People usually laugh in a subconscious attempt to reduce stress and calm down. However, for Dakota, it often works otherwise.

It took a few moments, but she retracted her hand as if recoiling from a hot flame, and stood up immediately. She didn’t know what to say, much less what to do. She could make a break for it and get the hell out of there, but that depended solely on whether or not her legs would move, because they felt made of lead at the moment. She could continue the awkward, anxious laughter that had first bubbled up but has since dissipated to breathing somewhat shallow, quick breaths. Her thoughts raced, so much so that her words wouldn’t come out, and when they finally did, she sputtered. “Am I -- Am I fucking crazy?”

Morgan let Dakota withdraw her hand and grabbed her jacket, started double checking her pockets and bags to make sure she wouldn’t leave anything behind when she made her hasty exit.

“Them’s the breaks,” One of the pirates said. “Head empty as prawns, these humans.”

“Yes, thank you,” Morgan hissed. He was trying to be comforting, but she didn’t want to hear any of it.

She didn’t meet Dakota’s eyes or look in her vicinity as the woman continued to laugh (laugh) deliriously at what she was being shown. “No, you’re not fucking crazy. What’s fucking crazy is having to spend most of my daylight hours pretending to be alive when I’m not. We don’t have to keep doing this. I can go. You can stay and enjoy the--whatever.”

Dakota realized Morgan was moving quickly, like she was ready to flee the scene of a terrible accident. Pun most definitely not intended. She swallowed thickly, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came, not for a few moments that felt like an eternity when Morgan was getting ready to run. “Morgan, wait, I --” she cut herself off, because she didn’t know what she was asking her to wait for. It was like her mind had shutdown, only functioning on the essentials. “I didn’t mean to -- I just -- I don’t -- It’s not possible, which means you’re a -- You’re dead, but that.. You’re...” she was probably sounding like a basket case at this point, and she decided at that moment to stand up a little straighter, brush the hair out of her eyes. “I… I’ve got to go.” And with that, she practically ran to her car, fired up the engine, and got the hell out of there.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘zombie’,” Morgan said, grumbled between Dakota’s desperate stutters for understanding. She was ready to run right there, but Dakota beat her to it, and she had just enough pride not to race her out of this stupid, stupid idea of an afternoon. Slowly, she pulled on her jacket and arranged her hair over the collar just so, and put on her scarf. There was no need to rush anymore and no one curious enough to see her furiously blink back the sting in her eyes and swallow the lump forming in her throat. “Fucking humans, am I right?” She rasped.

The ghosts agreed, but only in silence.

#alcoholism tw #car accident tw #domestic abuse tw #monsters of the museum #wr dakota #wr chatzy #wr dakota chatzy #wickedswriting

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lilyvandersteen · 5 years ago

Text

Summer Love

This is my contribution to the GPBB fic exchange. I wrote it for @princessblaine, who requested “anything cute fluffy squishy boyfriends”. So this is fluffier than a baby bunny - a short and sweet and silly fic that will hopefully make you smile and brighten your day a little. Enjoy!

Summer Love

By lilyvandersteen

Betaed by the incomparable @hkvoyage (thank you so much!!)

Also on AO3 and FF.net.

Blaine blinked. “Where did you say you got a job?”

“The Barnes & Noble right down the street. You’re looking at their newest barista!”

Blaine blinked again, and his forehead wrinkled. “Oh.”

“I was expecting some more enthusiasm,” Kurt said. “Now we won’t have trouble finding the money to pay the rent anymore.”

“I… Sorry, babe. It’s… It’s great that you found a job. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Kurt snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at Blaine.

“My summer job is at the same store. I got hired there as a bookseller. Today. What a coincidence!”

Kurt huffed out a breath. “No. Really?”

“Really, really.”

“Best not let on that we’re an item,” Kurt said, after a pause.

“Because they might be homophobic?”

“That, too.”

Blaine cocked his head to the side. “What else?”

“It might be against company policy.”

Blaine bit his lip and nodded. “Right. So we don’t know each other?”

“We don’t,” Kurt confirmed. “If we ever cross paths, we give each other a friendly nod. Because we’re colleagues and all. But that’s all the interaction we’ll have. Should be an interesting acting exercise.”

Blaine grinned. “So no quickies in the break room, huh?”

“Nope.”

Instead of diminishing, Blaine’s grin widened. “Too bad.”

Kurt’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t think I can do this, right?” he challenged Blaine. “You think I’m going to jump your bones after a few days of pretending you’re a stranger to me?”

“Oh, I don’t think. I KNOW.”

“Challenge accepted. You will eat your words.”

Blaine flashed him a megawatt smile, and Kurt could have sworn he murmured, “Oh, I’ll eat something all right…” before he walked out of the room with a spring in his step.

K & B

“And then you foam the milk like… so, and then the finishing touch is a sprinkle of nutmeg or cardamom,” Gwen told Kurt, while deftly showing him. “Now, you try.”

Kurt got it right on his first try. The machine wasn’t all that different from the one used at the Lima Bean.

“You’ve definitely done this before. Haven’t you?”

Kurt grinned. “Yep. Back home, I worked as a barista for the local coffee shop.”

“Oh, great! Then I’ll leave you to it.”

Gwen went to the cash register, humming under her breath. Then she turned to Kurt again. “Oh, and today is delivery day for new coffee beans. We’re expecting the delivery at ten. When it arrives, could you check that we’ve received everything that was on the order form, and then put all the bags in the stockroom please? Our stock is in front, to the left. Can’t miss it. The rest is all books.”

“Delivery at ten. Got it.”

When ten o’clock rolled around, Kurt counted the bags delivered and checked the order form. The quantities were correct, so he signed for the delivery and thanked the delivery man, only to find that the guy had just dumped all the bags at the back door instead of wheeling his handy cart to the stockroom and leaving the delivery there.

So Kurt would have to lug it all to the stockroom, would he?

He sighed and crouched to pick up the bags. He managed to get back up, but staggered under the weight.

Strong arms caught him before he could fall, and then took over half of his burden.

“Let me help you,” Blaine said chipperly.

Kurt heard a loud “Aww, how sweet!” from somewhere behind him, and rolled his eyes. Trust Blaine to charm everyone on his first day in the store.

As soon as the coffee beans were all safely in the stockroom, Kurt pulled Blaine close and kissed him thoroughly. “Thanks, babe. I owe you one.”

Blaine stole another kiss and then hurried away with a wink and a smile.

Kurt went back to his spot behind the counter. He didn’t notice he was grinning ear to ear until Gwen pointed it out.

“Charming, isn’t he, that new bookseller? And so sweet to help you like that! No wonder you’ve got an instant crush. Look at that happy face of yours, aww!”

That, of course, made the grin slide right off Kurt’s face.

Gwen hastened to reassure him. “Oh, no need to worry, honey, nobody hates the gays here! My sister’s a lesbian, and our manager is bi. You’re perfectly safe here, I promise!”

Well, that was one worry down, which was good. Still, Kurt would have to work on keeping a low profile, and not let on that he and Blaine were an item. For the rest of the day, he focused on getting customers their drinks, and he didn’t look in Blaine’s direction even once.

K&B

A few weeks passed uneventfully. Kurt had his lunch break at a different time than Blaine, so they could never eat together, but Blaine made a point of buying a medium drip every day at noon, smiling brightly at Kurt as he was handed his coffee cup.

It never failed to make Kurt grin, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

After that first day, Gwen hadn’t commented on his ‘crush’ again, but he always felt her eyes on him when Blaine made his appearance, and saw her smile to herself.

Towards the end of the month, a large shipment of books arrived, and all of the booksellers helped bring the boxes to the stockroom, except for the books that would have to be put on the shelves immediately.

Kurt saw Blaine pass his counter again and again, looking more and more dishevelled each time – his curls coming loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up and sweat dripping off his forehead. Much as he’d promised himself not to look at Blaine during his work hours, this version of him was too sexy to ignore, so Kurt stole quick glances at him whenever there was a lull in customers.

And then Blaine started stocking the shelves, climbing on a ladder to do so, and that made for an even better view. Kurt sighed happily. A noise between a giggle and a snort came from the direction of the cash register, and Kurt snapped his head away from the delectable sight immediately and quirked an eyebrow at Gwen. “Anything the matter?”

She grinned at him cheekily and looked at Blaine on the ladder. “Far from it. Lovely view. I’m enjoying it too – oh, my goodness!”

The last words came out as a shriek, and Kurt was running, already halfway there, because he’d seen the danger, too. Another bookseller had bumped into the ladder, and Blaine had lost his balance and was teetering – teetering – falling.

Kurt arrived just in time to catch Blaine in his arms. “Oomph… Got you!”

Blaine was too much in shock to say anything. His colleague started to babble, full of apologies. “Sorry, sorry! I really didn’t see you there, man, I’m so sorry!”

Kurt gently set Blaine on his feet again. “Are you all right? Do you need a drink of water?”

Blaine blinked at him, and then shook his head. “I’m fine. Thanks. Phew. That was close. I thought this would end with a broken limb.”

“Thank heavens it didn’t,” Kurt sighed. “But maybe your colleague” – “Jim,” the man supplied helpfully – “Jim could take over ladder duty for the rest of the day?”

Jim nodded. “Will do. Sorry again, Blaine.”

“It’s okay.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s arm in a comforting way, and hurried back to the coffee corner.

“Look at you, playing the knight in shining armour!” Gwen enthused.

“Oh, shut it,” Kurt grumbled.

“No, really, he already likes you, I can tell. And this will score you a date, I’m pretty sure of it. Aww, young love.”

Kurt furtively looked around him. Annabelle, the manager, was within earshot. He winced. “Hush, Gwen. Not one more word, okay?”

She frowned at him, and then followed his eyes towards Annabelle. Her expression brightened. “Oh, is that it? Hey Bells!”

“Yes?”

“There’s no policy against dating in the workplace, right?”

Annabelle grinned and winked at Kurt. “None whatsoever. If you have your eye on someone, go for it!”

“And I’m sure Annabelle wouldn’t mind you taking your lunch break a bit early if you want to spend it with Mr. Medium Drip today,” Gwen suggested.

“Blaine. His name is Blaine,” Kurt corrected her absently.

“He already knows his name,” Gwen whispered to Annabelle conspiratorially, and they both nodded.

Kurt felt the tips of his ears redden. “Oh, stop it, please!”

They both giggled, but left him alone to deal with the customers.

Sure enough, when lunch time rolled around, there was Blaine, asking for a medium drip… and for Kurt to have lunch with him. “Annabelle said that was okay.”

Kurt faltered a bit. “Oh… I… I dunno… Gwen, can you manage?”

“Sure, hon. You go have your date with this hottie!”

Kurt felt his ears burn again, but was quick to take his bagged lunch from the fridge and walk with Blaine to the park nearby. They ate their sandwiches on a bench near the duck pond, and Blaine chuckled as Kurt told him about Gwen and her enthusiastic match-making.

“So she doesn’t know we’re married?”

“Nah. She thinks we’ve only just met and hit it off really well. Love at first sight and all that.”

“Aww. Are we going to tell her?”

“Don’t you dare, Blaine Devon Anderson!”

“Hummel-Anderson, love.”

Kurt pulled the chain with his engagement and wedding rings from under his shirt, and Blaine did the same with his ring.

“Fearlessly and forever,” Kurt said softly.

“Fearlessly and forever,” Blaine echoed, and he kissed Kurt. “And now we’d better hurry back or we’ll be late!”

K&B

Towards the end of the summer, Rachel came back from the cruise her fathers had taken her on, and of course, she insisted on visiting the bookstore where Blaine and Kurt worked.

She ordered an iced latte, and introduced herself to Gwen as “Kurt’s best friend in the whole world”.

“So what’s he been up to this summer?”

Gwen smiled. “Well, there might have been a bit of summer romance going on…”

Rachel’s face contorted into a mask of shock and rage. “What?!”

Gwen recoiled, and Kurt sighed. Uh-oh.

“What do you think you’re doing, flirting with other guys when you’re MARRIED?!” Rachel screeched at Kurt.

“Married?!” Gwen repeated. Her smile vanished and was replaced with disgust.

“Rachel?” Blaine had heard the commotion and come to join them. “What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you ask KURT,” she bit at him.

“Kurt?”

Kurt sighed again. “Rachel is horrified that you and I have been dating this summer.”

Rachel looked from Blaine to Kurt, puzzled now.

“Well, why shouldn’t we?”

“Because, apparently, Kurt is married,” Gwen informed Blaine. The last word came out like a curse.

“Well, yes, we’re married. What’s wrong with that?”

Gwen’s eyes bulged. “You’re married. To each other?”

Blaine nodded, smiling at her sunnily. “Kurt and Blaine Hummel-Anderson, at your service.”

“So when I did my best to set the two of you up, it was all wasted effort, ‘cause you were together already?”

Kurt bit his lip. “Well… Yes.”

Behind him, he heard laughter. It was Annabelle.

“Serves you right, Gwen. Maybe now you’ll stop your eternal match-making!”

Gwen shrugged. “I was right about Kurt and Blaine being a good match, wasn’t I?”

“You sure were,” Blaine assured her. “You were only a bit too late to set us up.”

“A bit? More like five years,” Rachel scoffed. “These two have been together since they were sixteen. High school sweethearts, you know?”

“Aw, really? And how is it that they’re married when they’re barely old enough to drink alcohol?”

“Oh, well, that’s a long story. And it all starts with another couple of high school sweethearts, Brittany and Santana…”

Kurt pursed his lips to keep from laughing out loud as Gwen ooh’ed and aah’ed at Rachel’s story, and looked up into Annabelle’s smiling eyes.

“I knew, of course,” she said. “It was right there on your application forms. Same family name and same address. But it was fun egging Gwen on. She enjoyed herself so much, plotting to get you two together.”

“It would have worked, you know.”

“Oh, hush, you. Don’t you ever tell her that, or she’ll be impossible!”

#klaine fanfiction #my fic #summer love #fluffier than a baby bunny

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marvels-writings · 5 years ago

Text

Imagine (2)

Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel) Masterlist

Series Masterlist

| Part 1 |

A/N: Sorry for the delay with this one, I’m still not too sure where this is going but I think you might like it

The next day after the Gala, Carol was lying down on the compound couch, staring at your contact on her phone, she had spent at least half an hour thinking of a casual text to send you, maybe ask you out for coffee, nothing seemed good enough. She had even spent a decent amount of time picking her outfit, settling on a black halter top, smoke acid washed denim jeans and black converse.

“Carol, you good?” Tony asked, walking past the compound couches wearing a simple suit when he saw Carol lying on the couch, completely beat.

“Yeah,” Carol answered, sitting up and facing Tony. “Anything going on?”

“Surprisingly, no. Usually after Gala’s the press is blowing up about something or the other an Avenger slipped up on, but nothing.” Tony explained, chewing the end of a pen pensively.

“Y/n really is good then.” Carol muttered, Tony caught it and smirked.

“You got a crush?” He asked, Carol blushed but hid it up instantly, she opened her mouth to speak but Tony spoke first.

“Y/n is in my office with Pepper, she’ll be leaving for her lunch break soon.” Tony said, shrugging with a smirk.

Before Tony could make another sarcastic comment, Carol walked off in search of Pepper’s office, asking a few agents on her way to find it. Eventually she found it, finding it was next to the bathroom so she had an excuse, just as she was heading towards it, Pepper came outside with you right behind her.

Pepper wore her usual tight dress with her hair tied up, you wore a similar attire, wearing similar high heels, but you wore your hair down, your lipstick a bright shade of pink to compliment the fav/color dress.

“Hi Carol,” Pepper greeted, then gestured behind her to Y/n who had a smirk on her face. “This is y/n, the Avenger’s head publicist.”

“I believe we have met.” Y/n smirked, offering her hand to Carol anyway who took it, shaking it firmly before looking back at Pepper, trying not to stare at Y/n.

“Oh, I don’t think I can join you for lunch,” Pepper winced, turning back to you when she saw some notification on her watch. “Happy just told me something went south, I’ll see you later, thank you.”

Pepper hurried off as you said your goodbyes, nodding to Carol.

“I was just going to get lunch if you want to join me.” You offered, pointing your thumb to one of the exits out of the compound.

“Sure.” Carol shrugged, pretending like this wasn’t something she had been hoping for.

Carol followed you outside to your white Porsche Panemera, indicating for Carol to get into the passenger seat rather than the driver seat, she followed you inside, the inside was a bright red leather.

“Nice car.” Carol complimented, admiring the work before turning her attention to you.

You slid into the driver’s seat, smirking at Carol before starting the car.

“A girl’s gotta earn money,” You smirked, Carol mirrored your expression when she remembered the dialogue from last night.

“You know, I’m a bit offended you didn’t text me.” You said conversationally, easily backing out of the parking lot and taking off on the highway towards New York.

“Well it turned out well didn’t it?” Carol asked, you laughed a little, settling into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Carol realized she had no idea where you were taking her.

“Where are we going?” Carol asked, looking around to find herself in a part of NYC she had never been to before.

“If you trust me, you have nothing to worry about.” You answered, taking a turn into one of the alleys to take a shortcut.

Carol rolled her eyes at your antics and tried to look front the entire time, her eyes always accidentally tracing back to you. You pretended not to notice, driving up to the sushi shop you’d decided to go to.

“I’ve never been here.” Carol commented, getting out of your car and shutting the door after you’d parked, you’d shrugged, following her motions before leading her in.

It was a small place, cute, not too fancy, not too casual. Everything inside seemed along the borderline of casual and fancy, all the dishes were more expensive than any sushi place Carol had ever been to before.

“They have the best sushi in NYC.” You stated, walking in and greeting some of the staff comfortably, introducing Carol before asking what she would like.

“What would you recommend?” Carol asked the main chef, he looked her up and down before muttering something in japanese and heading into the kitchen, and Carol looked at each other, laughing before settling down at the table.

Carol talked to you as if she had known you for years, trying to make you more comfortable to talk to her. You saw what she was doing and played along with it as the dishes came in. Carol seemed to get less nervous around you as the lunch went on, she even got you to laugh a few times at her jokes.

Carol hid the fact she was completely entranced by you, the way you talked, the way your eyes lit up whenever you smiled, your casual flirting and comments, everything made her fall for you, harder than she had expected.

“Thank you for the amazing lunch.” You thanked the waitress, who nodded at you with a grin before you offered her your credit card, Carol instantly was about to offer hers.

“My treat Danvers.” You stated, smirking and giving the waitress your credit card and talking to her for a bit more, making Carol jealous she wasn’t the person all your attention was on.

“Well, we’d better get going,” You smiled, getting up and taking your jacket, smirking and pecking the waitresses cheek. “Thank you again.”

“Anytime y/n/n.” She answered, you smiled and left, motioning Carol for you to follow her out, her eyes narrowed at the waitress before following you out in silent fury.

“Do you have anywhere specific you want to go?” You asked Carol once you were both in the car, you adjusted the mirror a little before turning to face her, smirking when you saw jealousy practically written on her face.

“The compound will be fine.” Carol said stiffly, you shrugged and started up the car.

Carol stayed silent instead of talking, it was making you a bit uncomfortable even though this was what you wanted. You wanted her to get jealous, you wanted to play this game with her, but the silence always made you waver a little.

You sighed and put on the radio, the host blabbering for a few seconds before Imagine by Arianna Grande came on as you were only a few minutes from the compound.

‘Step up the two of us, nobody knows us

Get in the car like, "Skrrt"’

You sped up slightly, smirking when you saw Carol react a little from her otherwise static position, you made it back to the compound as fast as you could.

‘Stayin' up all night, order me pad thai

Then we gon' sleep 'til noon’

“Do you want to meet up for dinner?” You asked casually, Carol was a bit surprised but she nodded, you parked the car smoothly, stopping the car and turning to look at Carol.

Carol didn’t know what you were doing, you were supposed to play into her hands, she was supposed to invite you for drinks, she was supposed to be in control, not you.

“I know this great Thai place, I’ll be outside your room at 7:00.” You said, smiling at her briefly and getting out of the car and closing the door.

Carol took in a breath and did the same, following you inside, she had never followed anyone as much as she had followed you in the past few hours. You were more of a challenge than she thought anyone could ever be.

“I’ll see you then.” Carol said once you’d both reached the hallway where you’d have to split up.

Carol smirked and leaned forwards, kissing the corner of your lips lightly, taking her time to pull away, treasuring in the way you froze up slightly.

“Thank you for lunch y/n.” She thanked, words almost vibrating against your cheek before she walked off.

You turned around with a smirk on your face, imagining the dinner to come.

| Part 3 |

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx , @ophelias-heart , @duvetsandpillows , @ohfuckno , @justarandomhumanhere , @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn , @lesbian-x-blackwidow , @marvelbbyx , @wlw-imaginesss let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

A/N: I may have gotten a bit carried away with this, hope you don’t mind. Thoughts?

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dannineedsfriends · 5 years ago

Text

Parrlyn - A Favour - Pt 3

So there's definitely a lotta typos in here- and there's some kissing/making out at the end that some people may be made uncomfortable by. Other than that, enjoy the last part!!

When the tears came, they never seemed to stop. Wrapped in all of the blankets she owned, never washing, never checking her phone. Sometimes, she catches glimpses of herself, her hair is matted across her head, bags under her eyes stretching like fields of bruises and slumming sunken sockets slouching back into her skull.

Who was there a purpose to exist for, if not Anne?

She thinks of the lips that she kissed, pulling her closer and waking up in her arms. All she could ever lust for is more- more contact- more time. Had she lost her appeal that quickly? Was her kissing bad? At the time, she had been too involved to even consider if Anne was happy, or even enjoying it. Was she to blame?

Cathy rolls over once more, watching light filter through the curtains as another sleepless night washed over her face, depleting her energy to live and what felt like nineteen years of her life-expectancy. She pulls the covers over her head, grumbling something along the lines of: why did you turn up the brightness of the sun?

Slowly, she drags herself to sit up, looking around her room in a daze. It really had shaken her up, she realised. Who has the right to knock down the Catherine Parr? The strong one. The smart one. The independent one. No one- not even Anne.

She stares herself in the face, having found herself sat in front of her mirror, sighing and rubbing her face. It was time to step up, and step away from her feelings.

That's exactly what she does.

Catherine Parr regains her confidence, covering herself in lotions of plenty, moisturising and replenishing all that she had lost in a matter of days. Almost Christmas, her spirits are finally up, reaching for the stars. That was when she finally decided to peak at her phone, surprised by the flood of notifications.

Annie 🦠:

"Cathy please"

"Please answer me I just want to talk to you."

"I miss you."

"Call me when you can please"

"I need to explain myself"

"I cant tell you over text pls"

"Cath pls"

"No one can get in contact with you"

"They're worried"

"Please just answer"

"Cathy IM really worried"

"I wanted to come to your house but I cant remember your address"

"Just call me back okay?"

She lets out a deep sigh, rubbing her eyebrows as one thumb hovers over the call button. Does she dare? Her gut drops, stomach heavy, the imagine of Anne with her lips against another man's imprinting onto her mind. Anne. Anne. Anne. Not her Anne. Just Anne.

And the phone rings.

"Cathy?? Cathy is that you??" Anne cries through the phone. "Oh thank God I'm so happy that you called me back- I- i need to explain myself."

"Yeah. That's a bit of an understatement." Cathy mumbles begrudgingly, holding the phone to her ear and sighing impatiently.

"Look- just- please. All I want to do is talk. Meet me at the coffee shop in 10, okay?"

"Fine.." she says, shaking her head. "I'll be there."

She wouldn't admit it but she was desperate to see Anne, desperate to feel her hand in hers once more, desperate for her. Maybe that was why she practically ran there, specifically to be waiting for her. She ordered her black coffee in a to go cup, sitting in the seat by the window, staring out and looking across the streets for her.

Everytime the door opens, she shivers, the iced winds swallowing her limbs in its malicious embrace. Where was she? She winces: she was once again obsessed with the thought of her, the pure concept of Anne gracing her with the presence. This temptress of a woman had her wrapped around her little finger; the addiction happened so fast, too fast, even, if she were not foolish, Cathy would believe that Anne, indeed, a witch, and she, entranced in her spells.

That was when she slid into the seat opposite her.

Her eyes are sad, no longer glistening with her playful countenance, lips down-turned. Cheeks glowing a rosy red and rubbing her hands to deriddle herself of cold. "Thank you.."

Catherine nods, blowing out a soft breath and shaking her head, pushing a poof of hair behind her ear, fiddling with studs in her ears. Her leg bounces anxiously beneath the table, finger tapping a delayed rhythm on the table. Anne must have picked up on her anxious body language, the slouched posture, because she starts talking.

"Cathy..- I really don't know where to start with this. My parents found out that I liked girls." She swallows, hard, shaking her head and squeezing her eyes shut, clearly struggling. "And… I almost didn't have a house anymore. I wanted to put a photo of you on my wall- and all that happened is they asked who you were and- I can't lie for shit.

"I had to tell them that you were the girl I was seeing. They didn't see it as fondly as I did. They yelled at me and told me that I was wrong- and- and-" her voice cracks, and she pauses to take a trembling breath. "And told me that I was wrong- and disgusting- and a disgrace and a disappointment."

"Anne..- I-"

"Please. Just let me finish." Anne pushes her hair out of her face, rubbing her eyes gingerly. "And- if I could find a man to being home- they would accept me again and I could continue living with them- pretending that nothing happened."

She raises her eyebrows and shakes her head in disbelief of it all. "So I did. And I regret every second I spent with that man. That swine. All because of my dumbass parents dictating my life again! So what if I'm a fucking lesbian? What does it have to do with them?"

She purses her lips and looks away from the table, taking in two sharp breaths and breathing heavily as to hold back the sobs, unable to stop her tears from welling up. Every second that past, Catherine could see the layers of facade crumbling to the ground, revealing the truest, ugliest innards of Anne that she could fathom. She watches as a tear glints as it dances over the curve of her cheek.

Parr opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out, stunted by the onslaught of tears thrashed away by Anne's hands. She stands, shaking her head herself as her eyes begin to well, walking to stand in front of Anne before pulling her to her chest, still sat down.

"Annie…" she whispers, her own voice quivering as her hand finds her hair. Cathy shushes her softly, swaying her ever so slightly. "Annie- I'm so sorry..-"

"I thought you were gonna leave..- just then, I mean..-" she cries into her chest, pleading as she wraps her arms around her torso. "Cathy- please don't leave- please- please-"

She shakes her head, speaking as calmly as humanely possible. "I would never- I promise. I'm not leaving- or going anywhere- I'm staying right here and I'm gonna hug you and give you cuddles until you stop crying, okay? Or until I stop crying. Maybe both."

Parr feels Anne laugh against her, looking up at her through her eyelashes, shaking her head. "We're just crying over here, y'know- don't mind us, normal people. Just a puddle of gay in the corner."

"We're not in the corn-"

"Shh.. I'm crying- let me have this one." Anne grins into her chest, burying her face again and letting the sobs ease to hiccups, and when the hiccups finally deplete, she takes a long and deep breath. "I.. I just wanted you to know since you saw me and..-"

"I know.. I know.. it's okay…" Cathy says, hand finding the stray hairs in Anne face that had sprung back into position and holding them back, leaning down to kiss her head, leaving her lips to linger for a few seconds before taking her hand. "Do you want to come back to my house..? Where Anna isn't watching us from across the shop?"

"She's doing what?? Where??"

"I can see her in the reflection of the window." She turns around, moving out of Anne's line of sight, not letting go of her and.

"Oh yeah. Creep." She nods, looking to Cathy again and standing up, brushing imaginary dust off of her clothes. "I'll just expose her the next time I see all the girls together. See how she likes it then."

"That's a bit mean Anne-"

"'That's a bit mean Anne-'" she mocks, putting her hands on her hips and pulling a face at her.

"I do not sound like that!" Cathy defends, eyebrows pulling together in disapproval.

"'I do no-'"

Parr cuts her off, taking her hand. "Okay- that's it. You're walking home with me and you're holding my hand, no ifs and buts!"

Anne grins. "Like I was going to let the opportunity pass me by."

They walk back to Catherine's house, slowly, enjoying the cold as they swing their arms between them. Anne eventually forfeits her hand and wraps her arm around her torso, hooking her hand just above her waist.

"I'm so cold." She complains, mumbling and staring at her feet, that she was dragging like a stropping child. Anne feels her crush's eyes on her, stripping her of her skin and eyeing her bullshit skeptically.

"Are you cold, or do you just want to wear my jacket, Anne?" Cathy clarifies, unzipping her coat, part way.

"No-!! Don't take it off- you'll be cold and you might catch something." She says, shaking her head furiously and looking at her, hurriedly stopping her to zip the jacket back up before continuing forward, but snuggling into the side of her. As Cathy moves to slide her hand into her pocket, she reaches for the hand, making sure she got to at least have one warm hand.

Silence hangs between them comfortably, bundling them up in a robe of fulfillment and long-awaited contact, swaddling them close to one another, not daring them to shift position, other than the steady, synced movement of their feet.

"Annie..? I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have ran off- I shouldn't have stayed in bed and slept for so long..- I shouldn't have ignored you.." Catherine admits quietly, shaking her head at herself.

"Hey..- don't beat yourself up- I would've done that too if I had seen you with someone else." Anne shivers, nodding mercifully, still clinging onto her, even as they approach the front of the house, and walked up the steps. Cathy practically had to pry Anne off of her so that she could take off her coat and shoes, before turning back to her. "Aren't your parents home?"

She shakes her head, and shrugging. "They're never here if anything, I'm pretty sure that they have a penthouse somewhere in Florida and left me here on my own."

"Why so specific?" Anne questions, taking her own initiative and walking up the stairs, which were right in front of the door.

"They always talked about it when I was a kid: flying out to the US and renting somewhere that they couldn't pay for. I always joke that they might have left without me- but hey. I have no idea where they are, and that's the crack, I guess." She shrugs, following the brunette, clearly ardent for her destination

Anne pushes the door to her room open, running and practically leaping onto her bed, limbs spreading across the bed and Cathy stays at the door, musing and taking in the image of her dearest, before joining her on the bed, being invited into her embrace.

She crawls willingly into her arms, cheek resting on her chest, eyes fluttering shut and the room a state of tranquility. This was all she had wanted, had needed, she realised, before looking up at Anne, to whom she had caught staring at her.

Her face is lit up with the most heart-warming smile as Cathy raises her head to press her lips to hers. "Hey, Gorgeous?"

"Mhm?" Catherine hums.

"Do you mind if I get a shower really quick? As much as I'm enjoying cuddling you- I'm really cold and want more heat." She admits, still holding her close, hand tracing from her waist to her hip, lingering and then back again.

She nods. "Of course! Do you want some spare clothes..-?"

"If you don't mind- I'd also offer you to join me but I don't think it'd go down to well." She winks and presses a quick kiss to her lips before scampering out to, no doubt, spend 30 minutes trying to work the shower (or find the bathroom) and then coming back in to Parr looking rather discouraged.

But to her surprise, the shower started running only 15 minutes after, and with only one scream of frustration- or her burning herself. Thus it was decided: Anne was the one she wanted. The loud, flailing idiot. Perfect.

Cathy sits on the bed, listening to the hammering of the shower and the occasional bang, and distressed call of "I'm okay!" that always followed shortly after. It makes her smile, and she has to cover her face to hide it, denying it to herself that anything she did was, quite possibly, the most adorable thing Parr had ever witnessed.

One her day dreaming had started (of Anne in the shower), she couldn't stop it, staring aimlessly into space as her fingers squeeze the blankets, all until she sauntered through the door wrapped in a towel, bra straps, while and embroidered with florals, hang over her shoulders.

All is dandy until she drops the towel to the floor, revealing Anne. Anne- everywhere. It's all Anne.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Cathy feels her cheeks heat up as her eyes widen, looking away from her half-naked body and to the walls; ah- lovely painted walls. Her eyes are staring steadily at the walls before she catches the glimpse of Anne staring her down, cheeky grin slathered over her lips. Almost immediately, her vision glides down her figure, establishing each and every curve, to which she had never once seen.

"Ohhhh my God-" she eventually trails her eyes back to Anne's, looking as if she'd just been scarred with unorthodox and inappropriate material, which is inherently inaccurate. Upon seeing her reaction, Anne begins to walk towards her, to the side of the bed Cathy was closest to before leaning her arm over her shoulders with a grin, throwing her other leg over to the side of her, so that she was straddling her.

"Awwwwhhhhhh~ Little wittle baby Cathy's scared of me?~" she sings, teasingly rolling her shoulders back and her wet her falling down her back, dripping onto the sheets.

"Anne- Anne you have no clothes on-"

"Pfft- like we weren't going to take them off later anyway."

Cathy had to admit, she had a point. "Still- you're sat with your- your - breasts - in my face- and I don't know how to feel about it."

Anne slides her forearms to rest on her shoulders, fingers knotting into Cathy's curls, face leaning closer to hers. She could feel her hot breath on her lips, and they touch, encaptured in each other, pulling one another closer.

Cathy's hands find her hips, squeezing and pushing so softly, touching the skin and taking it in for what it was worth, fingers trailing to the small of her back before their lips break. With a sigh Anne moves to press her lips to her neck, pushing her shirt out of the way to get at the base before nipping at the skin, sucking to leave a mark, not hard, just gradually marking Catherine as her own work. At some point, her hand even tugged at the hem of her shirt and soon, that was thrown across the bed, allowing Anne to freely cup her lover's breast.

Once satisfied, she breaks away from her looking into her eyes with furrowed brows. Cathy noticed that her lips were pinker than before, slightly swollen, perhaps.

"Are you my girlfriend now?"

"That's the most stupid question you could ever have asked." She mumbles, shaking her head and kissing her once more. The rest is history, and perhaps, just a favour.

Boom h o w s that for you

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thebarrydiariesx · 5 years ago

Text

The Sleepover: Part 1 of 2.

PART SEVEN

“So what... we just sit tight and play a very dangerous game of hide and seek until morning?” Lisa remarked, folding her arms and looking around her locked, dark apartment. She threw her jacket on to the bed and gave herself a once over in her mirror. She smiled and followed a very stressed looking Barry.

“Pretty much,” Barry sighed as he peaked through her blinds. “It’d make more sense to just leave but-”

“Yeah not happening.” Lisa walked past him to the kitchen, putting a deliberate swing in her hips. She made a performance of bending down low as she opened her fridge, turning around with two Buds. “Drinks?” She shot him a smirk.

“Hilarious. Do you have like a cover or something for your couch, in case it gets cold?”

Lisa sauntered over to him, the beers sweating in her hands, and tilted her chin to line up her face to his. Barry tightened his lips and tried with all of his might to keep his eyes locked onto her face. She tilted her head.

“Listen, buddy.” She inched closer to him. “Need I remind you that we’re only in this predicament because you saw fit to appear at my place at the wrong time?” She prodded his chest. “You saved me and I’m thankful but you got trigger happy and you killed your guy- who by the way shouldn’t even be your guy- and now suddenly I’m a prisoner in my own home? Get outta here.” She shook her head and laughed. “If we’re gonna lay low, we’re gonna do this my way.” She offered the beer to him.

Barry clenched his jaw and looked above and past Lisa. “Fine.” He snatched the beer and took a hearty swig before looking down and pointing to her. “But just one.” He walked past Lisa to check the windows again, not noticing the satisfied smile on her face as she put the needle on her record player and dropped down onto the couch.

“Do you like Motown, Barry?”

*****

After two awkward hours, and with the help of several more beers and one thick joint, Lisa finally managed to get Barry to settle a little but it wasn’t without his limits. Barry sat cross-legged underneath her window, a beer in hand, still listening for any cars approaching, flinching upright every time he heard one. Lisa lounged lazily on the couch whilst they discussed music, books and video games. It took some strong coaxing from her, but she eventually got him up on the couch.

“Oh, this one I’m fuckin great at!” She beamed, pulling out a copy of Forza Horizon from her book shelf.

“Oh we’ll fuckin see about that, lady.” Barry retorted, a little more comfortable and decidedly more out of his shell than he had been in a while.

“Loser orders the pizza?” She hopped back on to the couch, handing him a controller.

“Deal.” Barry said smoothly, clinking his beer bottle with hers.

*****

“Oh you fuckin' slammin' bitch!" Lisa roared, elbowing Barry in an attempt to throw him off the game and better her chances at winning.

“Hey, cut that shit you fuckin’ cheatin asshole!” He struggled through his laughter, lapping up the beer that was now foaming out of the bottle.

“Oh, oh, an asshole huh Barry? Well you’re a...” Lisa grinned, trying her best to outdo him and herself on the elaborate insults. Video games always brought out Lisa’s less immaculate vernacular. “A robot fuckin’... cock lesbian!”

“Right back at ya, you fuckin...” Barry paused. “Soft piece of ass.” Lisa shot him a very perturbed look whilst he stayed silent. Lisa piped up.

“So pizza.”

“Yeah, pizza.”

*****

They relaxed more after they both had food in their stomach and a few more beers. The record player was still filling the room a few hours later.

“One of these early MORNIIIIIIINS” They both sang loudly as they sprawled over the couch, Barry’s arm relaxing around Lisa��s shoulder. She was puffing on the cig and her legs dangled freely on the coffee table. “Are gonna BE! Wiping those weeeping eeeeeyes yeaaaahhhh yeah yeah...”

“Wow, that was like every key except the key of Mustang Sally, Lisa.” Barry looked down at her smugly.

“Fuck you, Barbra Streisand.” She gave a throaty laugh, running her hand down his face in an attempt to shush him. “Speaking of Sally, how did you meet such a prim, perfect specimen in your line of work anyway?”

“Sally, she uh...” Barry immediately tensed up a little. “I met her at these acting classes I take. But it’s nothing serious, she just... what?”

“Fuck off.” Lisa sat upright, smiling widely. “You? Acting?” Barry stiffened and shot her a mock offended look.

“Hey what’s so fuckin’ funny about that?” His stifled laughter caused a grin to creep onto his lips the more he went on. “You don’t think I could do Shakespeare, huh? Is that what I’m hearing, Lisa?”

“Oh no of course not,” Lisa exclaimed, returning the tone. “I see it now, you and your...” She tried to continue through her erupting giggle. “Your fuckin long john’s and your big fuckin collar!” Barry burst into laughter whilst playfully covering her mouth and shaking her head from side to side.

“Fuck you, fuck you, aaaand fuck you.” His laughter died down to a soft smile as he put his arm back around her shoulder. “You know I used to call him Billy Rattlestick? Get it? Cause it’s William Shakes-”

“Shut. Up.” Lisa cut him off. “Fuckin Rattlestick... you idiot.”

“But yeah, that’s how I’m uh...” He brushed down his jeans awkwardly. “That’s how I’m finding myself.” He ran his hand over his face and took another swig of beer.

“That’s commendable, dude.” Lisa rubbed his back and gave a warm smile. “You gotta have something other than what you’re doing now. I mean this...” She waved her hand around the room. “This isn’t really who you are. I can see that and I’ve known you eight seconds, y’know?”

“Yeah...” Barry drifted off into space, smiling contently.

“You’re kind...” She tilted her head. “Fun...” She continued, walking her fingers across his shoulder. “And... you’re a great kisser.” She winked at him. Barry tilted his head to meet with hers, getting lost once again in that pretty, pretty face.

Lisa had almost forgotten the reason Barry was here. She had those strong arms around her again, breathing in his cologne and accepting that it made her happy. Even if it was a fleeting moment with a potentially dangerous stranger, she was living in the moment for once and riding the joyous wave. She squinted a little, trying to recall a time in her life where she felt this secure. Her train of thought was cut short by Barry’s voice.

“So what about you?”

“What about me?” She shuffled a little under his arm, feeling the needling questions coming.

“Well I told you my background. I’m not believing for a second that you were always a...” He chewed his cheek quizzically.

“A whore? A prostitute? A smokin’ hot lady of the evening?” She questioned coyly.

“An equally great kisser...” He cut in, smiling sweetly. “But yeah... sure. How’d that happen?”

She sat upright, took a long drag of her cig and drained the last of her beer. Forcing a smile, she began.

“Would you believe me if I told you I was once an assistant librarian?” She giggled softly. Barry offered an encouraging smile. “Well I was. I worked in a dusty old library in my hometown when I was like sixteen and it was the whole world to me. I got to turn my passion for books into a job and my parents were overbearing. Great... amazing, actually...” She trailed off with a smile. A smile that lingered only for the memory of her parents and the smell of old books and dusty shelves. “But it was nice to be making my own money and slowly building a modicum of independence.” She rubbed the back of her neck took another drag of her cig. “Anyway, I’m working and in walks this gorgeous guy by the name of Bradley. This stupid, handsome, bumbling guy my age who used to come in and talk to me like every week. I knew right away he was into me.” She looked at Barry and laughed softly. “Fucker was on the same damn page of Catcher in the Rye for weeks before I finally put him out of his misery and asked him out.” She grinned at Barry who returned it promptly. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing a tall, bearded young man with red hair, hazel eyes and smile that could save the world in her eyes. She could feel Bradley’s arms envelop her and for a brief second, she felt warm. She felt like she was right there, before the sharp sting of recollection struck. “So we dated, fell in love, left town... and we were so happy. Like a disgusting kind of happy, right? He was studying to be an accountant and I had landed my perfect job: a real, actual librarian.” She smiled sheepishly. “Lame, right?”

Barry gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Go on.”

“So uh...” She lit up another cigarette and cracked open another beer. “We were happy. We were a typical, boring ass couple but it was neat, y’know? Shopping trips, date nights, stupid arguments over laundry...” She was now gently beginning to rock back and forth, leaning her elbows on her knees. Her tone dropped. “One night, we were walking back from a movie and these... fuckin’ pieces of shit...” Her voice shook. “They shot him. They shot him for money. I couldn’t move... I couldn’t move, man and it all happened so fast...” Lisa couldn’t help but see it. The sidewalk, the blood, Bradley’s blank face. She felt the guilt rise in her again like a swelling in her chest. All she could do in that moment was stare in horror as they rifled through the coat of the body that was once the love of her life. She saw them run and suddenly that scream that was so absent five minutes before they left suddenly ripped through her chest and out of her throat. She screamed so loud she thought her ears might bleed. She remembered laying by his body and screaming until her throat was raw. She sobbed, she wheezed, she kissed his face and hands and she begged anyone listening above to bring him back. She winced and gripped her chest whilst Barry rubbed her shoulders. She nodded, signalling that she was alright to keep going. Her eyes wide and her breathing a low wheeze, she went on. “Then I did something worse.” She was barely whispering now. “I didn’t call the cops. I followed them, followed to some shitty fucking modern lookin’ brothel. Completely illegal and it would have been so fuckin easy had I just call the fuckin cops but I didn’t...” Her hands began to shake, causing her to pull on her fingers anxiously. “I... went in posing as one of the workers and..." She began to stammer. “I g-got rid of them, Barry.” She looked at him dead-eyed and, with a deliberate lack of haste, went on again. “I killed them. Six men. All gone.” Her eyes darted around the room and she brought her hands up to her face, trying to smoke out the images. The gun in her pocket, the knife in her hand. She felt rage like never before. She ploughed through them like they were nothing. They didn’t expect it but Lisa was there. Slicing and shooting and ripping through those men blinded by red beads of fury and grief. “I didn’t just lose Bradley that night, Barry. I lost myself. I had to leave to save myself and everyone who knew me before. I left everything behind. My job, my life, my family... I’m probably dead for all they know.” A single tear dropped from her face on to her lap. “You wanna know what the worst part is?” She looked back to Barry, who had a pained look on his face, his hand still firmly on her shoulder. “I didn’t feel bad for doing it at the time... I felt... it felt...” Her breath hitched.

“Good.” Barry murmured, staring past her and into his own mind.

“Yeah...” She gave a stuttered sigh and rubbed her face, a sense of guilt mixed with relief washing over her, making her body feel limp and cold.

Barry now understood why she barely flinched when he told her what he did. She knows how it feels to take a life. Several of them. She felt the pain, the brain shattering guilt and very brief but sickening sense of pride at how easy it was. What’s more, she had to deal with this pain and loss alone. He put his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

He didn’t have to say a word.

Lisa tried to steady her breathing and wiped the tears away. Her story, until now, was untold, never uttered and forcefully ripped from her memory most days. It was only ever at night that those six faces crawled inside her mind. She needed them out, any way she could, the only way she knew how. Whilst Barry was up getting her water, she put out her cig and put down her beer, straightening out her dress and smoothing her hair. When he returned she was quick to speak.

“Okay, you know my story now.” She took the water and set it down on the table, her eyes never leaving his. “Show me.”

“Huh?” She asked softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean-”

“Show me...” She edged closer to him. Barry’s lip quivered and he tightened his grip on her. He could feel the weed and the alcohol dimming his restraint. “Show me who you really are, Barry.”

Barry inhaled through his teeth shut his eyes tightly. He was finding it harder and harder to ignore the ambiguous connection he had to this woman. “Lisa, just relax, okay? I don’t think we should do this...”

“Please...” She trailed a painted fingernail down his lower lips, running her other hand up the back of his neck and through his hair. “You saved my life, you’re currently saving my life...” She bit her lip when she felt Barry’s hand grip the back of her neck in that same spot as before. “Let me say thank you, Barry. Show me who you want to be.” The last word was whisper as she felt Barry’s lips press firmly quickly to hers, growling into her mouth. He dragged his fingernails down her exposed back and trailed his lips down to her neck, fully intending to show her who he really was, the man she unleashed inside of him.

#barryimagine #barry hbo #barry fanfiction #barry berkman #bill hader

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inmusicalseveryoneisscreaming · 5 years ago

Text

Pride Eyes- Newsbians Oneshot

Hello, new oneshot story!! The idea was given to me by my friend @wingedprunepsychiclawyer go give her support! original post- https://wingedprunepsychiclawyer.tumblr.com/post/188919068353/sosuperawesome-pride-eyes-by-aaron-storms-on -- Sarah loved Pride, it was the one day a year she felt completely comfortable draped in colors of oranges and pinks. Which is why, when she saw a picture called ‘Pride Eyes’, she printed it and sprinted to the local makeup place. The place was rugged and stanched of makeup fumes. Sarah wrinkled her nose up, walking up to the check in. There stood an older man, who offered a small smile.

“Hello, miss.” With a smile, the man peered at Sarah intently. “I'm Mr. Snyder. What can we do for you?” Sarah held up the folded paper in her jacket pocket, pointing to the lesbian eye makeup. Sarah thought it looked gorgeous, and although she'd never do it justice, she still wanted it done. “Oh, you're a lesbian…” He trailed off, grumbling something. “This was done by one of our workers, Katherine. You can see anyone but her.” Sarah raised an eyebrow. Why couldn't she go to the original creator of the wonderful makeup?

“I'd like to see Katherine-.”

“You don’ want her. She's a full on player, she's kissed every girl I've employed against their wishes.” The voice the man is using is barely above a whisper, it made Sarah shiver.

“I see Snyder is making up rumors about me, again? And so early, too, hm?” Sarah’s head snapped towards a figure leaning against the doorway, probably into where all the magic of makeovers happened. Her curled hair was pulled into a side braid that fell over her shoulder, the auburn color matching the freckles that were splotched across her cheeks and nose. The girl also had the nicest, golden brown eyes, turning as gold as the sun when the cheap light fixtures caught them. It might also have to do part with the thin black glasses slipping down her nose. Sarah thought she was cute, but she'd keep such sentiments to herself.

“Miss Pulitzer, I need you to go back into the workroom.” Snyder coldly replied to the girl. The worker- Katherine, she assumed -stood her ground, her gaze turning dark.

“I've gotten not a single patron in a week, Snyder. You can't be telling me that's a coincidence while Sally and Kayla, straight girls, are getting at least five patrons a day.” Sarah glanced between the girl and the man, something was going on here. Something she didn't like much. This man wouldn't let the most likely gay girl have customers.

“Fine.” Snyder hissed out. “You lesbos stick together. See if I care. But, this talking back is coming outta your paycheck, Pulitzer. Consider yourself without any pay at all this week.” Snyder growled, almost as if he were reprimanding her. Katherine gulped before sighing, hurriedly averting her gaze to the ground.

“Y-yes, sir.” She mumbled, looking up slightly so she could meet Sarah’s eyes. “Come with me, miss...?”

“Jacobs.” Sarah filled in. “Sarah Jacobs.” The corner of Sarah’s mouth quirked up, putting the dimple on the right side of her face on show.

“Alright, come with me, Miss Sarah Jacobs.” Katherine smiled, starting to lead Sarah. Her mind was reeling, it had been so long since she’d gotten an employee. This girl was beautiful. Her dirty blonde locks framed her face perfectly, making her look like a piece of artwork that deserved to be in a museum. Everything about the girl was perfect. Katherine especially loved her large brown eyes, making her happy and welcomed by someone. She soon started settling Sarah into the chair. “What do you want?”

“This.” Sarah pointed at the lesbian eye makeup picture again. Katherine’s eyes opened wide, as she bumped her glasses back up her nose.

“You… Are you sure you want that? I did it in my free time, I was just trying to show every sexuality and romantic orientation and gender is valid…” Katherine rambled a bit, messing with her hands. Sarah smiled to herself, God, Katherine was cute.

“I do, for Pride.” Sarah confirmed with a curt nod. Katherine quickly grabbed what she needed, and started her work.

“Y’know you're, like, super pretty. I’m surprised the other lesbian ladies aren't lining up to get a smooch from you. Heck, I'm surprised no one’s swept you off to a church to get married to you.” Katherine tried flirting, she really did, though it only turned out awkward.

She can't just let a pretty girl slip between her fingers, not again.

Sarah felt a blush creeping up her neck slowly, making her face turn a soft pink. She never blushed at flirting, not from anyone. But somehow this auburn haired beauty changed that. Her comments seemed sincere, her comments seemed meaningful. Not thin and meaningless like some of the other girls she'd tried out.

Katherine smiled, Sarah looked so cute when she blushed. Her eyes just looked clouded by surprise and embarrassment, her mouth hung a bit open and of course the blush made her a sweet shade of pink. “You good there?” Katherine asked, continuing her work.

“Oh, yep, I'm fine.” Sarah nodded, just slightly, not wanting to mess Katherine up. Katherine smiled again, causing Sarah to fall into a whole different whirlwind. Katherine’s smile was so cute, so unimaginably adorable, Sarah wanted to connect their lips so badly. She wanted to drag the girl closer by her waist, wanting to feel the feeling of them being chest to chest, wanting the feeling of lips moving in sync because of pure love.

Katherine nodded, finishing up the eye makeup. Sarah blinked a few times as Katherine swerved her to face the mirror. Sarah’s mouth hung open. The makeup work was just as beautiful as the girl who had applied it to her eyes.

“You like it?” Katherine asked with a shy smile. Sarah nodded, standing up and digging into her purse.

“I like it a lot.” Sarah nodded, pulling out a crumpled fifty dollar bill. She held it out, the bill curling up in the palm of her hand. “Take it.” She whispered to the girl quietly. Katherine felt a blush flood to her cheeks and ears, even spreading to her nose. Sarah smiled wide, Katherine was the most adorable thing when she was blushing.

“I couldn't-.”

“Please?” She held the money out more. Katherine gave in, snatching the money, smiling.

“Thank you.” Katherine whispered. Sarah nodded with a wink, walking out to pay the man at the front.

Both girls were left wondering if they'd ever see each other again. --- Katherine was permitted to leave three hours early for Pride, they wouldn't miss her at all. She had gone home to get herself spruced up in lesbian pride wear, doing the makeup she'd done on Sarah only an hour or so earlier on herself. She walked through the crowd, greeting friends she knew. Buttons and Joey, Sniper and Smalls, Rafaela and JoJo. It's then a specific face stands out.

Katherine's jaw went slack. There stood Sarah, still in the eye makeup, but she'd changed. She wore a long pink dress, that honestly (in Katherine’s humble opinion) accented her features perfectly. A pride flag wrapped around her shoulders, she gave Katherine a small smile.

“Hey…” Katherine felt her breath abandoning her. Sarah just smiled at her, her eyes being even more welcoming than before.

“Hey…” Katherine attempted a smile back, but it came out more of a wince. Sarah snorted, moving closer to Katherine to talk better without the hustle and bustle muting them.

They talk, they flirt, they obtain each other’s numbers, they have a good time. And then…

“Kath?” Sarah asked, looking at the girl with a soft smile.

“Hm?” Katherine hummed, glancing up at the taller girl. Sarah couldn't stop smiling. Practically everything that Katherine did was adorable.

“Wanna, like, go out? Y’know, coffee? Tomorrow?” Katherine felt a blush cross her face, giggling awkwardly.

“S-sure! Yes! Coffee sounds… Good. The little coffee shop by my makeup shop? Tomorrow?” Sarah smiled at the other girl’s stumbling, giving her a small nod.

“It's a date.” Sarah confirmed, kissing the girl’s cheek. She laced her arm with Katherine’s own, smiling fondly at her.

They walked through Pride with confidence Katherine never thought she'd possess. And anytime anyone mistook them for a couple, there would only be a smile, and a small whisper of a ‘yes’.

#Katherine Plumber Pulitzer #Sarah Jacobs #Newsies #92sies #Newsies 1992 #Newsbians #Oneshot

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mackenzie-wolf · 7 years ago

Text

You've got a lot to learn P3/?

Becca x Older woman (O/C)

Requested by anon

A/N: ok so this was originally meant to be just one chapter, but as usual it's spiralling out of control and the characters have taken over my brain. This is not the last chapter, I can see at least two more happening. Anyway here's so lesbian stuff 😆

----------

Becca finished the coffee in her hand. It was still a little to hot to drink, burning her tongue and throat on its way down; but as Robynn sauntered out of the staff lounge, becca was hurrying to keep in pace with her. Robynn's long legs gave her the advantage of speed as becca trailed behind her. She was looking back over her shoulder every minute or so, catching Becca's eye as they made their way to tell shop floor. Robynn stopped at a large stack of boxes, most of which were taller than becca and just about Robynn's height. Turning towards a hanging caddy on the wall the the boxes were parallel to, Robynn pulled out a box cutter and pair of heavy duty gloves, handing them to becca.

"You get to work unpacking the boxes so we can display what's inside and I'm going to take care of the invoices. That ok with you?" Robynn asked with an unshakable smile that left becca staring for just a second longer than she meant to.

"I... Yes. Fine with me." She said back with a stiff nod. It bothered becca that Robynn hadn't said any more about wanting to talk to her, but she brushed it off. If it were really important, she would have said. Right? Robynn sat on a lone, plastic chair by the wall, thumbing through the sheets of paper in her hand. Her eyes darted side to side as she scanned each line, making sure everything was correct. Sighing loud enough to make becca turn her head to look at her, Robynn pinched the bridge of her nose. Becca was about to call over the few meters between them to ask of she was ok when she saw robynn reaching in to the breast pocket of her shirt. She pulled out some dark rimmed glasses that were sleek in design. Placing them on her face, she angled them down slightly as she looked back over the invoice. Becca found herself staring again. Somewhere between the cute glasses that made the features of her face compete and the look of concentration that was creeping over her, becca became lost in looking at her.

Just less than an hour later, becca was opening the last of the boxes that contained the large kitchen appliances. She glanced over at where robynn had been sat, only to realise that she had gone. Giving a quick look around, becca didn't see her anywhere so she carried on with her work. Turning to push the now empty box away, she almost threw it directly at Robynn who stood with a cup of coffee in each hand.

"Whoa! Easy there" Robynn laughed, giving becca a coy smile.

"Sorry! I didn't... I didn't see you." She said, trying already to hold back her blush.

"Its fine, no harm done. I thought you could use a break. Sorry I haven't been helping much."

"Are you kidding?" Becca chuckled. "You did the paperwork. That's a pretty big help. If I had to spend another day looking at those sheets I'd go blind"

"Can't have that." Robynn smiled, handing becca her coffee. Becca took off her gloves to hold the cup, bringing it up to her nose to take in the strong smell before taking a small sip. They stood in almost silence with just the sound of the buzzing lights above them and the dull roar of conversation from the small crowds of customers around the store.

"You know..." Robynn began, breaking the silence between them. "...I was going to send you a friend request last night when I got home. I figured that would be weird though. After knowing eachother for just a day, I mean."

Becca's face flushed. She couldn't stop herself from thinking back to last night, in bed. Looking at Robynn's profile, her picture. What it did to her and what she did to herself as a result.

"So, you thought you'd bring it up today because that's, what? Less weird?" Becca grinned as confidently as she could. Robynn's face filled with heat at the realisation and her hand rubbed the back of her neck nervously.

"I... yeah I guess I didn't really think that through" she said with a light laugh. Becca was sure that Robynn was looking at her differently today. The way that she had only done so in short glances the day before. Her eyes crinkled slightly with the smile that was stuck on her and her lips were beautifully curled in a warm grin. Trying to fight back the warm feeling in her belly, becca turned her attention back to the last of the boxes, setting her coffee down on the edge of the cardboard. Picking up the box cutter, she tried to find the nerve to ask what it was that Robynn had wanted to talk about, without sounding like it had been playing on her mind all morning. It had.

"So..." Becca almost mumbled.

"So?"

"I was wondering wha..." before she could finish, the box cutter ran over the tip of her finger that was uncovered by the gloves she had taken off. With a yelp, becca recoiled her hand and gripped her finger.

"Rebecca!" Robynn yelled, moving quickly towards her. She held becca by her arm and looked meaningfully at her. "Please let me see it. We need to get it covered."

Becca's hand trembled as she let Robynn take it. Trying not to look at the blood flowing from her finger, down the back of her hand, Becca's eyes sank to the floor. She could feel some pressure being placed on the cut and gave a wince in response.

"That'll do for now. Come on, there's a first aid kit in the lounge." Robynn said with a calm aire in her voice. Looking back up at her hand, becca saw red spots leaking through the soft white cloth that was now wrapped around her finger. The unmistakable embroidered 'R' was in danger of disappearing under the red stains that were seaping through. Robynn placed her hand on the small of Becca's back as she led her across the store to the staff lounge, stopping only for a moment to tell one of the cleaning staff about the drop of blood in the unpacking area that needed tending to. Once they were in the lounge, Robynn closed the door behind them. She ran the faucet at the sink and started searching through the cupboard for the green first aid box. Once it was found she quickly opened it and pulled out the bandage and tape, bringing it over to becca who now had almost no color in her cheeks.

"Rebecca, I'm going to clean it and wrap it up ok? I promise I'll do it as quick and painless as possible" Robynn said with her ever calm tone.

"Becca..."

"Hmm?" Robynn questioned as she pulled her handkerchief away from Becca's finger, exposing the small but deep cut underneath.

"Only my parents call me Rebecca. Its just Becca to anyone else" her voice was still but shaky as she tried to keep her eyes off of the cut.

"Ok.. Becca. You know you're really supposed to wear the gloves when using the cutter" she mused.

"I was but you distracted me with coffee. There's a lesson to be leaned here" Becca said with a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Hmm... beware of butch's baring beverages?" At the poor joke, Becca burst out laughing, prompting Robynn to do the same. Trying to keep her mind occupied and off of her cut becca took in a deep breath, as though it would carry her confidence.

"You said earlier that you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Oh..." Robynn's face suddenly looked like it had stolen the color straight from Becca's with the way it filled red. "Yeah. I guess I did, didn't I."

"So... what was it?"

"I was going to ask you if you..." Robynn cleared her throat nervously. Becca had seen these actions a hundred times before. Every time some flirtatious freshmen or clueless jock had tried to approach her confidently; and failed.

"So ask..." Becca said, suddenly sounding the more confident of the two of them.

"Uhmm. Ok, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come for a drink with some of the team tonight. Not... uhmm. Not that you have to or anything. It was just a suggestion. But it might be fun." She trailed off hopelessly. In almost no time at all, Becca's finger had been cleaned, disinfected and dressed. Looking over the bandage, Robynn's hands lingered on Becca's. Her soft fingers grazing Becca's palm as she looked at her work from all angles. All too soon, her hands moved away.

"Sure..." Becca said softly. "I'd love to." The smile that now glowed on Robynn's face was a sight to behold. Her perfect teeth reflecting the light that seemed the flow from her was dazzling.

"Cool. Yeah, so, do you know The Double Tap?" She asked with a hint of excitement.

"I know the place. What time?"

"Around 9? If that's ok?"

Becca took a moment to appreciate how happy robynn seemed to be when she agreed to go. Someone who looked so in control, now slowly reducing to a hot mess in front of her.

"Sounds good. Shall we get back to work?" Becca laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Oh..." Robynn sighed, taking a step back from becca, making the distance between them a little more professional. "...Yeah. if you're feeling ok? I'm not really am expert on first aid. If I missed anything I'm sorry."

"Nothing but a kiss better..." Becca's words trailed off. Within the next second she regretted what she had just said, hoping the ground would swallow her whole to save her from the embarrassment of her shameless flirt. She opened her lips to try and form some kind of retraction, but was cut off when she felt Robynn's long fingers wrap around the Base of her hand, pulling it up to her lips. Robynn placed a dainty kiss on the tip of the bandaged finger, barely hiding a wicked smile behind it.

In an effort to hide a wide smile of her own, becca looked away, noticing the bloodied handkerchief still sitting atop the work surface.

"Oh. Your handkerchief... I'm sorry." She said bashfully.

"Don't worry about it. It'll come clean."

"At least let me wash it for you then?"

"If you insist." Robynn smiled, her eyes trying not to focus on becca for too long. "Come on, let's head back before people start to wonder."

The day carried on much as before. Becca and robynn were working together, joking and still giving eachother subtle looks of interest. As it drew to an end, the store was empty, save for a few of the staff still lingering. Becca collected her belongings and was ready to rush out so she would have time to shower and change before going back out to meet with some of her new team.

She returned home and darted to the kitchen, ignoring the looks of confusion her housemates were giving her. James and Zig were at the house too, not that it was unusual to see them there. Becca stood waiting for Zack to move away from the sink so she could attempt to clean the embroidered cloth that was marked red.

"WOULD YOU MOVE?!" Becca suddenly yelled, making Zack jump a full inch from the floor.

"Jeez, sorry!" He said as he slumped away and out of the kitchen. Becca could hear everyone mumbling in the next room; undoubtedly about her. It didn't matter, she had to get this clean so she could return it. Its important to robynn. Important enough for her to have it monogrammed.

"URGH!" She grunted loudly, becoming frustrated when the color faded but stayed clinging to the cloth.

"Becca? What's wrong?" Milly's voice was soft behind becca.

"This stupid thing isn't getting clean!" She mumbled.

"What are you cleaning it with?" Milly asked, peering over Becca's shoulder. Noticing the dish soap in Becca's other hand, Milly sighed. "I could put it in the laundry for you"

"No!" Becca snapped before collecting herself. "I need it clean now. Or, really soon." Milly looked at the cloth again. She noticed the red letter on the corner and recalled her conversation with becca that morning.

"I see. What are you trying to clean off of it?"

"Blood..."

"Blood?! Becca are you..." Milly asked with concern.

"I'm fine! I just need it clean!"

"Relax... I'll take care of it for you. Toothpaste and cold water works best." Milly said, reassuringly.

"How do you even know that? "

"Kaitlyn goes too hard in mosh pits so I've had to work magic on some of her shirts before."

"Oh..." Becca looked to the floor and back up to meet Emily's eyes. "... I'm going out soon. Im going to meet... uhmm, do you mind if I..." Becca trailed off, signalling towards the stairs.

"Go ahead and get ready. I'll put this in the dryer when I'm done so it'll be ok to take with you." Becca stepped foward as though she was about to hug her, but stopped short, letting out a heavy breath.

"Thanks milly." With that she ran to the stairs and up towards the bathroom, fighting the feeling of butterflies inside of her.

#the freshman #the sophomore #play choices #choices stories you play #fanfic #playchoices #fanfiction #the freshmore #choices #stories you play #the sophmore #becca #pixelberry #storiesyouplay #the junior #becca davenport #becca x oc #rebecca davenport #milly's musings

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kirishwima · 7 years ago

Note

Hey there amazing! I saw you asking for prompts and since I enjoy all your fics and ficlets, what about a Hance or garrison trio roadtrip AU? Have a lovely day~

i am so so late to writing this ahh im sorry, but thank you so much!

i couldn’t decide between Hance or garrison trio so,,, i went for both! Who says Hance can’t take their small angry noodle friend for a road trip? >:3

******

Are there really any words to describe it?

That feeling-it’s when you’re driving down stretches of highways, flowing miles long and the sun is beating mercilessly down to the street, your car feels warmer, there’s music playing from the radio blasted loud and your friends are singing along louder than the singer, and it’d be annoying were it not for the sheer joy in their voices, the sound a melody that carries through the open windows, wind tussling your hair in all possible directions and you could nag about it but the breeze is so welcoming and soothing;

Have you felt that?Do you have a name for this feeling?

Lance isn’t certain.He’s not certain he even wants to put a name to it in the first place.

He looks to the back seat, Pidge with her hair tied into messy pigtails, her jean overalls a size too big and sitting cross legged with a game in hand, humming along to the music.

He turns to look to the drivers seat, the smile plastered on his lips spreading further.

Hunk, his usual bandana abandoned for a sunhat, his hands on the steering wheel and his mouth forming the lyrics of the song, the sun reflecting in his eyes making them melt like liquid ambers;

Lance changed his mind.There is a name for this feeling.

It’s called love.

Deciding to go on a roadtip was less of well, a decision, and more of an impulse really.

They woke up on Friday, at eight o’clock sharp, their yawns and mumbled good mornings the only sounds heard in their shared apartment.

Hunk was too busy leaning his weight onto Lance, the only one to be considered remotely a morning person out of the three, his chin resting atop Lance’s head as he made them all some coffee, humming along to whatever song had stuck to his brain the night before.

It wasn’t until Pidge-yes, Pidge, the one person whose rumoured to break your wi-fi router if you so much as look at her in the morning, came running to the two with a wide grin, waving her phone around.

“Classes were cancelled! For the entire day!” she gleamed, nearly glowing with excitement.

Hunk joined in, jumping off of Lance and towards Pidge, both of them excited for the prospects of doing absolutely nothing, but also too excited to sleep.

So Lance shrugged and suggested it-why not go on a trip? They could go outside of town, maybe stop by the beach, that amusement park in the next city, and come back tomorrow morning, either stay at a motel for the night or pull an all-nighter driving back.

He genially didn’t expect either of them to agree.

He definitely didn’t expect them to squeal with joy, their eyes so wide and giggles so loud he couldn’t help but shake his head with a laugh, and head back to his room to pack up a bag and get through his morning routine.

By nine they were standing in front of Hunk’s car, an older yellow fiat that had definitely seen some better days, but was well preserved with ‘love care and frequent check-ups’, or so Hunk insisted.

By ten they were already in the road, Lance’s arm resting outside the window, sunglasses covering his eyes but not the grin spreading on his mouth, the sheer glee coming from his friends infectious.

Hunk put a hand over the gear shift, letting it rest there before Lance sneaked a hand over his, interlacing their fingers.

Hunk smiled but said nothing, giving Lance a fond look with a quick side glance, one that Lance returned ten-fold.

“You guys are such absolute saps” Pidge teased, no hint of malice in her words.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t been that long since he and Hunk started dating.

They grew up together, they knew they felt something for one another, but it took a few more years and a pep talk from Pidge herself to get them to confess.They expected it to be awkward at best, that each skittering touch and gaze would cause their nerves to jump on end.

But that never happened.It wasn’t like first crushes, it wasn’t butterflies in your stomach and a knot in your throat.

It was more like two halves that met and got glued together, fitting so perfectly there was never a question wether or not they’ll fit.

Pidge, surprisingly, took it far more well than they expected, what with them all being flatmates and all-she’d make the occasional teasing remark, but other than that, she’d shake her head with a fond look, the same one they came to know she’d give her brother and family, to the people she loved.

Within another hour they reached their first stop, the view of crystal blues and the scent of salt being their tell-tale sign.

Lance all but shoved his upper torso through the window, laughing furiously as Hunk ushered him back in until he found a spot to park.

“The sea! We’re at the sea!” he yelled to the pier ahead of them, to the open skies above him.

The moment Hunk killed the engine Lance was already running out of the car, dashing through the pier and down the steps that lead to the beach, not caring that he had no swimsuit with him or a change of clothes.

He could distantly hear Pidge and Hunk running after him, a mixed chorus of “Lance no” and “Lance I swear to god-“ but he didn’t stop, feet light and carrying him through thigh deep into the sea, shirt and shoes forgotten somewhere along the way, not caring about the fate of the shorts he was wearing.

He was at sea.He was home.

With arms outstretched he let himself flop down and into the water, the sun warm enough to keep his body from freezing in the cool water-it may have been warm and sunny, but it was still spring after all.

He swam a bit further away, leaving Pidge and Hunk to their own devices, before meeting them back at shore, Hunk rolling up his pants enough to reach knee deep, Pidge alongside him tugging her overalls up and wincing whenever her feet made contact with a rock or seaweed.

They stayed there for a while, mainly waiting for Lance to get dry until Hunk sighed, giving him a spare t-shirt he had brought along ‘in an emergency like this one’-Lance smirked and kissed him, wearing his boyfriends’ shirt with a proud huff.

They grabbed coffee and breakfast at a nearby coffee shop, laughing to the point of tears when the cashier asked Hunk and Lance if ‘it’s okay to give their younger friend caffeine at such an age’, which prompted Pidge to look the cashier straight in the eye and order an iced americano, with triple shots of espresso.Lance had never seen such fear in a persons eyes.

Lance took to driving this time, stealing glances at Hunk’s sleepy side, his eyes half-lidded and head resting on the window-the exact opposite of pidge, who three espresso shots later had went through the entirety of the Fire Emblem game she brought with her, and took to talking to Lance about theLoch Ness monster, and how “She’s real Lance. I’ve seen her with my own two eyes. She’s gay and dating a siren. They’re lesbians Lance.”

Their next stop came as a short break for lunch at a diner somewhere in-between cities;

“A luminal space!” Hunk and Pidge exclaimed with bright eyes, and Lance sighed, ready for what was about to be an hourlong of arguing over what a luminal space really was-and refusing to agree with either Hunk’s theory of them being portals to alternate dimensions, nor Pidge’s theory of being disruptions in the time-space continuum that were placed here as safe marks for aliens.

By the time they left the sun was already slowly easing down, not quite bidding the sky goodbye yet.

The sky tinted pink and purple as they drove, the sight of endless expanses of green around the highway, growing trees getting scarcer as they made way to their next destination.

Everything felt more mellow; the music hummed lowly on the radio, their chatter was less, the ice in their drinks stored in the cupholders slowly melting as the ice cubes clinked to one another.

Hunk was asleep in the backseat, Pidge content in just looking to the expanse of road ahead of them, a somber quiet falling between them.

“You know”, she said after a while, voice quiet, “I’m glad we got to do this.”

“The road trip?” Lance asked.

“That too. But just…everything. Meeting, becoming friends…I’m happy we had the chance to do that.”

Lance couldn’t help but smile, turning to face Pidge with the most sincere of expressions.

“So am I. Things wouldn’t be the same without you around Pidge-on” he teased, “I’m glad we’re friends. And I’m glad you’re here” he added, focusing his gaze back on the street.

He didn’t get to see what expression Pidge made.

He didn’t have to, her short laugh giving him the reply he needed.

*****

There’s still some purple hues in the horizon, but for the most part it’s dark, street lamps swirling into life.

Dark, except for the bright neon lights ahead of them, flashing in pulses and the distant sound of screams surrounding them.

Pidge’s face was all but glued onto the window, her palms leaving prints on the glass.

“The amusement park! Look at all those rides!” she squealed, feet tapping with excitement.

Lance laughed, looking to Hunk’s terrified expression.

“You’re not planning to-“ Hunk started, promptly interrupted by Pidge.

“I am most definitely planning on going to all the rides” she deadpanned, pointing to a particularly high flashing attraction they could see even as they were parking, “see that? I’m going to that first.”

“Pidge-“

“I do not care what the height requirements for it are Hunk. I’m a girl with a purpose and Mendel’s genetics can fight me.”

Neither Hunk nor Lance dared say anything-they were just glad Mendel wasn’t around for Pidge to fight.

*****Walking through an amusement park at night, where the lights illuminate the park into a virtual daytime, musics blending and dancing in the air, the scent of cotton candy and popping corn distinct and all-surrounding, there’s a childlike glee growing inside your chest, an innocence that’s laced with fear or, for some, adrenaline as you look to wagons turning upside down, rides that spin so fast you can only hear people’s shrieks, their bodies a blur of speed.

Pidge stopped and looked to each ride, animatedly talking about its mechanics with Hunk, Lance pitching in random sprouts of knowledge when he could.

He walked lazily, hand-in-hand with Hunk, Pidge leading ahead and pointing to each attraction and attempting to enter the more frivolous ones-only to pass by the ‘you need to be this tall to enter’ signs, and promptly got nudged away by tired-looking employees, her pout growing bigger with each person that apologised and told her she’s not allowed to enter.

Not to say she didn’t sneak by a few-she hid herself between Lance and Hunk and went through the queue for one of those spinning rides, the ones that turn around an axis and around themselves with a speed that’s made for blending milkshakes if you ask Hunk.

She walked away from it stumbling with dizziness, but with the biggest, most mischievous grin on her lips.

Mid-walk she stopped, an eyebrow raising as she turned to face her two friends.

“So…Lance…I remember you bragging about how brave and how much of a realist you are…” she started, her face feigning innocence as she swung back and forth on her feet.

Lance gulped but nodded, not liking the direction this was going.

“So if I say…ask you to go with me to that” she nodded to what Lance now distinctly recognised as a haunted horror house, “you couldn’t possibly say no now could you?”

Hunk made a small ‘ooh’ sound from besides Lance, shrugging innocently when Lance threw a glare his way.

“Yeah, I’m not going in there”, Hunk shrugged, “but you guys have fun! I’ll go grab us some sodas until you finish.”

With one quick step to the side Hunk was gone, leaving Lance to his own devices.

Pidge raised an eyebrow, looking to Lance with a coy smirk.

“What’s it gonna be, brave sharpshooter?”

“You tiny devil.”

Pidge shrugged.

“That’s an accurate description. Now are you coming or?”

Lance knew he’d live to regret this. But he was not about to get his pride wounded over a horror house, thank you very much, and if he had to walk through dark corridors with random things creeping up to spook him to prove he was the brave sharpshooter he insisted he was, then so be it.

*****

Turns out Lance is afraid of the dark.And spiders.And small narrow rooms.

And Pidge.Lance is terrified of Pidge.

Hunk hugged him after, patting his back apologetically.He tried not to let Lance know that he could hear his screams all the way outside the attraction.

*****

By now it’s somewhere past midnight.

Pidge’s asleep, curled up in the back of the car, Hunk and Lance content with taking a short driving break to a side of the street that led to an eventual dead-end, looking down to the sea and the stars above, further away from the bright city lights.

There’s an endless amount of blinking lights, and Lance points to each bright star, naming the constellations and his favourite of the stars, back laying on the hood of the car, Hunk leaning besides him, hands clasped together.

There’s starlight in their eyes and cotton candy on their lips, both of them content in simply being there in that moment, letting the day’s excitement wane down into a happy memory, wearing tired happy smiles and clothes drenched in sweat and sea water, their feet heavy but hearts settled.

It’s a good day, Lance figures, and a good night.

And there’s a name to this feeling, the one that’s been cradled in his heart for so long.

It’s called joy.Sheer, indescribable joy.

*******

i love the garrison trio and,,,i love roadtrips

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jedifighterpilot2727 · 7 years ago

Text

Failing Physics

Just a heads up but I'm going to try and go through my prompts on here the next few days, and some of them will just be little short fics that don't get posted on AO3 so I’ll try and tag everything appropriately!

The story of how Lexi and Taylor meet - AKA the rom com beginning that no one asked for but I decided to write anyway.

Taylor is failing physics.

She’s not even exaggerating at this point, because it’s right there; written in red ink on her test paper.

Forty-six.

She didn’t even know test scores could go that low. Granted she’s also never taken college level physics, so that probably has something to do with it.

Once again, she curses herself for forgetting to sign up for the mandatory science class until the last possible minute; because of course the only option that fit in with the rest of her schedule had been physics. Of course.

Groaning, she watches the rest of the class file out, debating on whether or not she should cut her losses and drop out of school entirely or try and beg the professor for extra credit. She isn’t exactly sure what extra credit in a physics class would look like, but it couldn’t be THAT horrible?

Right?

She watches as Dr. McGregor packs up his bag at the front of the class, debating.

Just as she’s made the decision to throw herself at the mercy of the extra credit gods, she hears a voice.

“Dr. McGregor! Hi! Ummm, I just had one question about the test - “

A figure laden with books steps up to the desk, drawing Dr. McGregor’s attention to her outstretched test paper.

Lexi, Taylor thinks her name is.

That’s a lie.

She knows for sure that that’s what the girl’s name is, just as sure as she knows that Lexi is one of the reasons for Taylor failing her latest test.

It’s hard to pay attention when the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her entire life is sitting just a few rows up.

Lexi, with her dark brown hair, and her bright blue eyes, that stupid sunny smile that absolutely no one should have during an 8am class. She watches as Lexi’s free hand pushes her glasses up her nose before gesticulating wildly at the paper in front of her.

Since she’s been spared from her begging for another few moments, she takes the opportunity to give her crush an appreciative once over. As flustered as the girl sounds, she LOOKS put together, from head to toe. The braid containing her hair looks nearly impossible to wrangle, and Taylor absently wonders just how long the other girl spends on her hair in the mornings. Her outfit just screams ‘money’, from the black designer button up and the brown Hermes belt and the black Givenchy pants . . .

Taylor doesn’t even want to think about how much her loafers cost. Two month’s rent, probably.

She has to hand it to the rich girl though, if she didn’t know fashion, she would never guess that any of it was designer. It was subtle, and Taylor likes that. Not enough to flaunt, but enough that it probably kept the other rich kids off her back.

Well other than the popped collar and the fact that she seems to be debating an answer to a physics test. That probably didn’t make them consider her less of a dork.

A cute dork though.

She considers for a moment that she doesn’t really know much about Lexi other than the fact that she wears designer clothes, sits at the front of the class everyday, and that she never speaks to anyone other than the professor.

Oh and that she’s insanely attractive, but Taylor would have to be blind to miss that.

She’s startled from her thoughts by Dr. McGregor’s voice.

“Now Lexi, I know that you’re only in this class because the Dean turned down your request to bypass it for the higher level course; and I’m also aware that he turned you down only out of spite because of his long standing feud with your mother, but that doesn’t change the fact that in this class we’re dealing strictly with Earth based physics. I understand that on Mars or even Vucarra that the principles determining the result of the test mentioned in question 7 would be vastly different, but this is about how the test would play out on Earth.” He chuckles. "Try to dial back your vast knowledge of extraplanetary physics for this class, please.”

“Sorry, it’s just- the different systems got mixed up in my head, I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t understand the concept.”

“Lexi, you missed half a point on the entire test, you’re in no danger of me doubting your ability to grasp the concept of entry level physics anytime soon.”

That seems to appease Lexi, because she tucks the test paper in one of the folders balanced on her arm.

“Thank you, sir.”

Taylor is standing before she even registers what she’s doing.

Only her feet don’t take her up to Dr. McGregor’s desk, instead they follow Lexi out into the quad.

She isn’t exactly sure which part of her brain decided this was a good idea, but she’s going to blame it on the gay part.

Sappho have mercy.

“Lexi?” She calls out, and the other girl stops and whirls so fast that her papers and books fly everywhere.

Great way to start a conversation, good job Taylor.

“Oh, Rao! Sorry! I hope I didn’t hit you! I just have a really exaggerated startle reflex sometimes.” Lexi blurts out as she scurries around, picking up papers from the grass; and Taylor drops to her knees to help.

“Completely my fault, I didn’t mean to startle you!” She passes Lexi a stack of papers, pretending not to notice the electric current that passes between them when their hands brush.

Lexi clears her throat, but makes no attempt to get up or pull away.

“Was there something you needed?”

Taylor doesn’t think she’s ever seen eyes that blue.

“Pardon?”

Lexi’s fingers brush nervously at her glasses.

“You called my name?” Her voice squeaks at the end and Taylor almost melts at the adorableness.

“Oh! Right, sorry. I just - well I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Dr. McGregor, and well, I need a tutor.”

“A tutor? For what?”

She might think that Lexi is simply being mean, but she doesn’t think there’s a way to fake the look of genuine confusion on her face.

“Intro to physics? The class we were just in?” Taylor jerks her thumb back towards the door.

“Oh! Of course! Yeah, no, duh, I mean obviously -“ Lexi shakes her head. “The science center has a really great tutoring program, or I think there are some private tutors posted on the bulletin board outside the lab.”

“Actually,” Taylor hesitates for half a second before taking the plunge. “I was hoping, maybe, you could tutor me?”

She isn’t sure how to read the hesitation on Lexi’s face, so she stutters forward.

“I mean you don’t have to, obviously, and I can’t pay you - because, well broke college student - but I work down at the corner coffee shop, and I can get you all the free coffee you can drink. Plus you’d have my undying gratitude for helping me not flunk out of college.”

A twinkle lights in Lexi’s eyes and one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arches upward.

“I am running a little low on undying gratitude.”

Taylor doesn’t let herself imagine that Lexi is flirting.

“Well, if you can help me pass physics then you will have mine, I have no idea how you even understand what he’s talking about half the time.”

“Oh!” Nervous Lexi appears to be back, tilting her glasses once again before reaching out a hand to pull Taylor to her feet. “My mom has been teaching me physics since I was like, five; so. . . . it’s just kind of . . . ingrained in there, I guess.”

“Five! You were five when you started learning this stuff?!”

“Well, Mama and I would always be worried when my Mom was . . . out on assignment, so we did science experiments. It sort of became our thing.”

“You have two moms?”

That must strike a nerve, because Lexi straightens to her full height, and even though she’s shorter than Taylor by a few inches she looks menacing.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, no, of course not! Huge lesbian here.” Taylor points to herself, trying not to wince at her own sudden awkwardness. “Just wanted to clarify! It’s always nice to hear about other lesbians having families and succeeding - out there teaching their five year-olds physics!” Lexi seems to have relaxed, but she rambles on anyway. "What does your mom even do? That she knows so much about physics, and that she apparently has beef with the Dean of the science department at USC?”

“You don’t - you don’t know who I am?”

Of course she should have know that a person dressed like they belong in a fashion show for high end tomboy wear would have an ego.

“Should I?”

“Sorry! I didn’t mean it like that; I wouldn’t expect you to know who I am, I was just trying to say . . . .” Lexi trails off with a sigh. “Most people form opinions about me based on my family before they even meet me, so it’s just surprising to hear someone say they don’t know who I am.”

Taylor feels herself relax. Maybe Lexi doesn’t have that much of an ego after all.

“Oh, well I can see how that might throw you off.”

“I wasn’t trying to be snobby or whatever, I just -“

“Lexi, it’s totally fine! I don’t think you’re being a snob! Hell, I don’t even think I’ve told you my name!”

“Taylor!” Lexi blurts. “Not that I’m creepy or stalky or anything, I just -“

Taylor saves her from whatever apology is about to come by extending her hand for a shake, warm and giddy off the fact that her crush knows her name.

"Taylor Mitchell, pleasure to meet you.”

Lexi’s handshake was firm.

“Lexington Luthor-Danvers, and the pleasure is all mine.”

Smooth. How could someone go from blubbering mess to suave in exactly 0.25 seconds? And -

"Wait. THE Luthor-Danvers? As in the Luthor-Danvers empire?”

“That’s the one.” As uncomfortable as Lexi may seem with her social status, there’s a hint of pride in her voice at the family name.

“Well, I can see why your mom started teaching you physics at five!”

“She’s kind of a legend among science nerds, so since I’m a science major, pretty much everyone I’ve met here has already known about me beforehand.”

Taylor vaguely remembers ‘the Luthor-Danvers heir’ making headlines on magazines for some sort of scientific research a few years back and she vows to google it when she gets home.

“Well, I’m an art major, and I know absolutely nothing about science; hence the failing grade in physics.”

Lexi’s mouth quirks upward.

“Right, well I can probably help you with that.”

“Like I said, undying gratitude.” She teases and Lexi starts to say something only to get cut off by a shriek echoing out across the quad.

“Lexi!! A little help here! This Dargorian poodle is a little out of control!!” A huge beast streaks by- one that resembles a St. Bernard only without the fur - dragging behind it a person on roller skates.

“Uhh,” Lexi begins stuffing her books into her backpack. "I - I have to go, that’s my cousin. Tomorrow at 1? Does that work for you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Study date? Tomorrow at 1pm in the library, second floor?” Lexi slings the stuffed bag over her shoulder with surprising ease and Taylor tries not to drool.

“Oh! yeah, perfect!”

“Great! I’ll see you then!” There’s a blinding grin tossed in her direction, and then Lexi is gone, running after the animal and its handler.

Taylor still isn’t sure what possessed her to follow her crush and ask her for help; but it’s easily the best decision she’s made all week.

So let me know what you guys think about this one!! This is the closest to an original fic that I've ever written - all of the speaking characters are original characters - so i'm a little nervous!

#supercorp #Lexington Luthor-Danvers #the lexington chronicles #Taylor the Girlfriend #a major part of the reason that Lexi is such a bumbling mess is because she has a HUGE crush on Taylor #fanfiction

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texanredrose · 7 years ago

Text

Weiss Schnee Vs The World - Ex #3

Revisiting a concept I’ve toyed with before: video game logic and mechanics integrated and acknowledged in real world interactions and No One Questions It, featuring a different batch of useless lesbians. Inspired by this post which is, in turn, a Scott Pilgrim vs the World joke.

Weiss pushed out a breath, trudging towards the coffee shop in a rather foul mood. “So, perhaps you can shed a little light on the current situation.”

“Here we go.” Blake sighed, ears twitching as she burrowed her face a little deeper into her scarf. “The interrogation begins. Go ahead.”

“Seeing as I was dragged into this ridiculous ‘Defeat the Evil Exes’ quest entirely against my will, I think I’m completely justified in asking why they’re called ‘evil’ when numbers one and two were actually rather pleasant.” Flipping her white hair over one shoulder and cursing the wind, she reached out for the door and opened it, staring rather resolutely at her kinda-girlfriend-but-pending-quest-completion until the Faunus relented and stepped inside ahead of her. “Ilia seemed more intent on ensuring I don’t live up to my surname- which, in her defense, I can completely understand- and Sun just seemed interested in reconnecting with you in a strictly platonic way. Considering the situation, I expected them both to be more...”

“What?” With a smirk and a raised brow, amber eyes fell on the woman with a hint of mirth twinkling within them. “Evil?”

“They’re literally calling themselves the ‘evil exes’ so I don’t see why I’m remiss for being confused.” She huffed, setting her hands on her hips while Blake removed snowflakes from her fur with quick flicks of her ears, the minute amount gathered on their shoulders ignored for a moment. “I expected to be defending myself against creepy stalkers and controlling maniacs, not a living mood ring and everyone’s best friend.”

“Sun did want to have lunch together, all four of us, now that you mention it.” Blake gave a small smile before the corners of her mouth turned down. “Look, I don’t know why they all agreed to this in the first place, but I know Adam’s behind this, and he is the definition of an Evil Ex. Maybe they’re just trying to make sure that you’re prepared and aware he’s coming.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, dusting at her shoulder briefly before starting towards the counter where a single customer stood, not the she paid them any mind. “Oh, so this whole exercise is a warm up for the end level boss, that’s just great, but it still makes me feel like the villain in all this!”

“How so? It’s not like you’ve attacked anyone out of the blue.” Blake waved a hand. “You don’t even know who any of my exes are or what they look like!”

“Which is another thing because isn’t that pertinent information to share with your potential girlfriend?” She raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for them to stop walking before tapping her foot impatiently.

“Hey, my past love life is mine to divulge and it’s not exactly fair for them to force my hand like this.” The Faunus’ brows drew together. “And you have an ex, too.”

“One, yes, thank you for the reminder.”

“And all I know about her is that she’s your roommate’s sister!”

“Which is more than I know about any of yours!”

“Okay, both of y’all need to cool down.” The customer ahead of them spoke, turning around at the same moment as they really looked at her, pulling a soft groan from both of them. Weiss assumed Blake was merely embarrassed about disagreeing as they were in public but the woman’s dismay lay elsewhere entirely. “I could toss you two into a snowbank, if it’ll help.” A brilliant smile lit up the blonde’s face as three dings sounded simultaneously, signalling an update in their respective quest menus. “Heya Blakey, Weissy. Long time, no see.”

Weiss couldn’t help but groan again, not bothering to check hers as she met those brilliant lilac eyes for a moment before turning towards Blake, trying to cut off the question she could sense coming.

“Blake, this is my ex, Yang.”

“Weiss, this is another ex, Yang.”

... apparently, her senses were off, because that definitely wasn’t a question.

“Aw, that was almost a jinx!” The blonde laughed, leaning back against the counter. “Then you’d both owe me a soda.”

“That’s not how it works,” Weiss replied with a frustrated groan, more focused on the Faunus’ look of surprise. “What do you mean ‘another ex’?”

“I mean exactly that. Yang’s my third ex.” The furrow to her brows deepened. “What do you mean she’s your ex, though?”

“Alright, you two, settle down.” Yang hiked a thumb behind her. “How about we all get our drinks, sit down at a booth, and talk this through real quick? We’ve got some time.”

Throwing her hands in to the air, the woman couldn’t help but raise her voice a little. “Sure! Why not! I get a quest to defeat Seven Evil Exes, so might as well have coffee with one! Yes! Perfectly acceptable! That doesn’t make me feel like a heel or anything!”

Blake turned her eyes towards the ceiling, all the while a blush rose in her cheeks. “You’re being overly dramatic again. And, remember, I have to fight her, too.”

Weiss’ gaze snapped to the Faunus. “Since when?”

“Hey now, come on! Just because we’ve got some business to take care of later doesn’t mean we can’t be civil right now!” The cashier quietly cleared his throat, prompting the blonde to turn and grab two cups, offering one to each of them. “One espresso with two pumps of cream and one green tea. If I remember right, that’s what each of you usually order, right?” Blue eyes slid to meet amber, neither of them admitting out loud that this constituted new information for the other, before reaching out to accept the offering. “Great! You two go pick out a booth and I’ll be there in a sec!”

Weiss and Blake turned around, taking a few steps away before the former spoke up. “Did you know that both of us dated Yang at different points?”

“How would I know about this? Even though that last part is obvious.” The Faunus rolled her eyes and sighed. “I had no idea-”

“You didn’t recognize Ruby?”

“You mean the one time I saw your roommate wrapped up in a blanket? No, now that you mention it, it didn’t ring a bell.” She reached up, running a hand through raven hair. “Yang and I were college roommates our senior year; she mentioned having a sister but I never asked many questions or met her-”

“You asked me all sorts of questions about Winter-”

“Yeah because, believe it or not, some of us learn lessons from the people we date.” Blake shook her head and slid into a booth, the woman not far behind as they sat side-by-side. “Yang and I kept everything... informal, I guess you could say. But she wanted to go off on a wandering adventure after college and I... didn’t. So we ended it. We were better off as friends, anyway.”

“Have you two kept in touch?” Weiss tilted her head, genuinely curious.

“Yes, though obviously not very well.” Amber eyes flicked over to the blonde, just starting to head their way. “The past few years have kinda been a blur. I didn’t even know she was coming this way.”

“She comes to visit Ruby every year,” she said, tapping her fingernails against the espresso cup. “That’s how we met, actually. Yang stayed in town for the whole time we dated and went back to... wherever she goes after.”

Blake stared down at her cup of tea. “... we should probably be better friends. Unless... did you two-”

“Oh, it was an amicable breakup.” She winced. “I just didn’t think keeping up with her beyond my interactions with Ruby would be... socially acceptable?” At the flat stare she received, Weiss rolled her eyes. “Look, we both made mistakes and we both leveled up, so could we just not?”

“Fair enough,” the Faunus said as Yang slid into the seat across from them. “Thanks for the tea.”

“And the coffee.” Weiss smiled. “And for making it easy to find you. Though I suppose all of you are going to be relatively easy to find.”

“You mean, considering each of us comes with a waypoint?” Yang chuckled, taking a sip of a protein shake. At least, that’s what the others assumed her drink to be, all things considered; she never seemed the type for caffeine, though she did have a second cup with her that smelled strongly of black coffee. “Anyway, yeah, I know you and Rubes come here all the time, so I figured it would be nice to sit down and talk things out before we get to the smashing and stuff. Gotta figure out the logistics of it all, too.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t exactly be fair if we both fought you at the same time,” the shorter woman said, tilting her head to indicate Blake. “Though, really, if you could fight Blake first, that’d be great. I still have four more of her exes to fight, not including you.”

“Okay, is it just me, or does she say that like it’s a bad thing?” The Faunus piped up, looking to Yang for confirmation while Weiss scoffed, though she was beaten to the punch in replying.

“She’s just being blunt and pragmatic.” The blonde grinned, wagging a finger at the other woman. “Though, you really could use nicer words to get your point across.”

Weiss growled. “At the end of the day, I am not the one who started a fight club just to get a date!”

“I didn’t either!” Blake protested, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That was all Adam, I swear.”

“She’s right; Adam’s been on this kick of ‘scare off anyone who wants to date Blake�� for a while now. He managed to intimidate everyone else into running off just by leaving them vague notifications and random items on their door step.” Yang raised a brow. “I’m... honestly not sure if he even tried that with you.”

“I got exactly one message saying to ‘cease my advances’ and I honestly thought it was one of those generic side quest missives and ignored it.” She lifted the espresso to her lips but stopped halfway to taking the first sip when she noticed the look directed her way. “What did I say this time?”

“Well, I’m just curious.” Crossing her arms over her chest, the tea forgotten for the moment. “If you had taken the message seriously, what would you have done then?”

“Talked to you about it? How is that even a question?” Weiss made a vague gesture around them. “I would’ve done exactly what we’ve spent the past two days doing. Except, without the fighting and running and explosions; maybe gotten to know who would be waiting for me around every corner with some manner of deadly object.” She turned further in her seat so she could face Blake, brows pinching in annoyance. “Just because I didn’t take that ridiculous message seriously doesn’t mean I would’ve balked. I simply would’ve done the required research before beginning the endeavor, or at least tried, instead of always being caught on the back foot.”

“Well, I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience,” the Faunus replied, turning away from the woman and gripping her tea with both hands.

“Blake, that’s not what I meant.”

“Say, how long have you two been... no, better question, when did y’all meet?” Yang glanced between them, keeping a pleasant smile on her lips.

“A week and a half ago,” she replied, still focusing on Blake and trying to keep her frustration from coloring her tone.

“Uh huh. And you’re going to fight me and four other people because... what? You already know it’s true love?”

“No, that’s preposterous. It’s been a week and we’ve hardly been able to spend any of that time getting to know one another without being interrupted.” Weiss rolled her eyes, shooting a glare across the table. “I’m doing this because it’s absolutely ridiculous for anyone to organize a resistance for the single minded purpose of controlling another’s happiness. Hopefully, after I find and defeat this Adam character, I’ll have made it quite clear that shenanigans of this nature won’t be tolerated or encouraged.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Speaking of which, I can’t believe you of all people would support something so obviously manipulative. A person’s choices shouldn’t be subject to some arbitrary system devised by someone else to determine worth; that’s for the individual to decide! You, Ilia, Sun- how the three of you agreed to this is beyond my comprehension!”

“Hey, I totally agree!” Yang put up both hands in surrender. “I thought the whole thing was stupid! At the same time, I’ve never met Adam, so I don’t know what the dude looks like. When he contacted me about setting up this dumb quest, my only option to make sure he got knocked down a peg was to show up and hope whoever got past me would be able to take him down.” She paused, then offered a sheepish smile, hunching her shoulders a little. “Okay, and maybe it was to make sure whoever Blake’s dating isn’t a bad egg, but that’s a minor point! It’s not like I can actually do anything to stop either of you.”

The shorter woman opened her mouth but paused, stopping short and clicking it shut again, taking the first sip of her espresso.

“What? What were you going to say?” Blake glanced at her, then returned to her tea. “It’s not like you to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Yang merely sat back in her seat, tilting her head slightly.

Weiss sighed, fidgeting in her seat. “I was going to argue that she’s still not doing this for the right reasons but... if I were to date you and things... didn’t work out... I would probably do the same thing.” She shrugged, focusing on her cup. “I can only assume it would be something I said or did that would bring the relationship to an end. You’ve said as much to my face; I’m abrasive and blunt and not very attentive to either, and I don’t apologize nearly as often as I should. So... whoever you dated after me... I would hope they’d learn from my mistakes and do better.” She lowered her voice slightly, so the words could barely be heard over the din of the coffee shop. “Maybe we haven’t known each other long and there’s still much to discover about each other but I do care about you, Blake. I’d want you to be happy. And I wouldn’t want you to be with someone who’s going to hurt you the same way I did. If I could help prevent it, I would.” Her eyes flicked up to the blonde, her voice regaining its previous volume. “That doesn’t mean this is the best way to go about it, though! Putting people through a surprise gauntlet without Blake’s permission or input is still a terrible thing to do!” Her eyes flashed, remembering a little detail. “And without my permission, either!”

“Hey, don’t look at me! I didn’t set up anything! Well, I mean, anything without everyone’s consent, anyway.” Yang raised her cup, lilac eyes flicking towards the door as the chime sounded, followed a moment later by their quest menus updating again. “And, uh, keep in mind that we’re all on the same team. Kinda. In the grand scheme of things, anyway, and this whole Evil Exes thing is really temporary.”

“What are you blubbering about?” Weiss furrowed her brows.

The Faunus seemed equally confused. “Yang, what’s going on? It’s not like you to keep secrets from your friends.”

“If you two would check your menus, you’d realize it’s less ‘me keeping secrets’ and more ‘you two are literally oblivious’.” The blonde chuckled, scooting towards the wall as someone else approached the booth, patting the spot beside her and smiling wider than the pair across from her had seen in a long while. “Hey, babe. Saved you a seat and got you your favorite.”

“How kind of you.” The newcomer sat down, keeping her strict posture for a moment before smiling and wrapping an arm around the blonde’s shoulders.

Weiss sat in a state of complete shock as every system shutdown from mass overload while Blake merely looked perplexed, glancing between the woman seated next to her and the newcomer. “Is she-”

“Oh, right, introductions!” Yang laughed, toying with her cup slightly. “Blake, Weiss, I’d like to introduce you two to my girlfriend, Winter.”

“I know. Who she is,” Weiss said, blinking as her mental faculties restored. “You’re dating my sister.”

“I believe it’s more accurate to say we’re dating each other,” the older Schnee said, taking a sip from her black coffee and humming. “This is rather good.”

“Told ya.” With a laugh, Yang made a calming gesture with her hand. “Look, Weiss, I honestly didn’t know you two were related until after-”

“You. Are dating. My sister.” Narrowing her eyes, the woman’s mind kicked back into gear as she made a motion between herself and the woman across from her. “And how could you not think we’re related? I told you I have a sister and a brother-”

“You mentioned them twice in the six months we dated and by name only once.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “What? Am I supposed to assume every person with white hair is related to you?”

“It would be a good start.”

Raising a brow, She pointed behind Weiss and Blake, waiting for them both to turn around before a smug smile claimed her lips. Weiss whipped back around with an impressive glare, slamming a fist on the table. “That’s Sephiroth, you know damn well he isn’t related to me!”

“Look, you’ve met my sister; why would I assume your siblings actually have some familial resemblance?” Yang shrugged. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“And I will point out that this would’ve been entirely avoided had you mentioned you were dating to me.” Winter chimed in, not seeming the least bit concerned by her younger sister’s outbursts. “You never told me you were dating and you certainly never introduced us.”

“I was- okay, perhaps I didn’t handle my previous romantic endeavors very well.” She conceded, knowing the battle would be forever against her so long as her elder didn’t see anything wrong. Personally, she didn’t even mind so much aside from shock- although ridiculous and loud and energetic, Yang had treated her with nothing short of unyielding respect during their relationship, and they’d really only broken up due to incompatible goals, much like Blake had- but saw an opportunity to improve on a past mistake and took it. “But I can begin making that correction. Winter, allow me to introduce Blake, my soon-to-be-girlfriend. Hopefully.”

“Don’t sound so cocky.” The Faunus muttered, though she offered a small smile and a hand that Winter shook firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” The woman offered a genuine smile. “It’s rather nice to be included in my sister’s life again. I do hope you won’t holding it against me when I figuratively destroy you.”

Amber eyes widened in alarm as Weiss sputtered, having timed her next sip of espresso very poorly. “Winter! You can’t just idly threaten her like that!”

“It’s not a threat,” she replied, picking up her own coffee with a nonchalant shrug. “After Yang told me about this whole ‘Defeat the Exes’ quest, I decided to join the trend. I’ve found it’s a nice way to hash out previous relationships and establish current boundaries for our relationship.”

“Oh please don’t tell me this is a trend, that’s the last thing it- wait a minute.” Narrowing her eyes, the shorter woman looked between the two across from her. “When you say ‘join the trend’, what, exactly, do you mean?”

“She means we are the Evil Exes,” Blake said, having opened her menu after Winter’s comment and now sat, staring blankly, at her own side quest screen.

Not wanting to believe the words, Weiss checked herself and, much to her chagrin, noted that her main quest- defeating Blake’s ‘Evil Exes’- had updated in tandem with a side quest, issued from a new taskmaster and awaiting her acknowledgement.

“Quest given by the League of Evil Exes, to defend yourself against Yang Xiao Long’s new- why is League of Evil Exes trademarked, who did this, who. Fucking. Did this.” Weiss put her forehead down on the table and groaned, further agitated by the whole ordeal.

“Uh, that would be me.” Blue eyes, cold enough to freeze the entire shop, shot to the grinning blonde. “I saw a business opportunity. Plus, better I nab it than wait for Adam to pull his head out of his ass and try to make some money off making Blake’s life miserable. That’s why it’s moved into the side quest category; would kinda be really fucked up to pretend like this should be a major roadblock in someone’s life.” She spread her hands, leaning further into the other woman’s side. “It’s totally optional, and you can decline to be part of the quest distribution at any time.”

“Beautiful, intelligent, and empathetic.” Winter sighed, fondly, lightly tracing her fingers through blonde locks. “If I hadn’t already heard such glowing praise about you, Blake, I would think my sister a fool for letting Yang get away.” Shifting her attention, she looked at the Faunus and smiled. “I do look forward to getting to know you better in the coming months, though, once this questline business is finished. You both seem a bit... tense right now.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly relaxed. You think being forced to sit on the sidelines while my Exes try to destroy my current girlfriend is making me tense? No, not at all, I’m just peachy,” Blake replied, an edge to her tone as her ears flicked. “Although, I am forced to wonder why would anyone willingly subject themselves to this.”

“I think it’s cathartic,” Winter replied, making a motion towards the blonde. “I’ll admit that while it’s impossible to consider the challenge balanced by any stretch of the imagination, every relationship we enter shapes our future ones in some way. Rather than relying on memories colored by parting words, challenging the individuals directly allows each of us to see not only the sort of person that shaped the other’s past, it allows the other to see the similarities and differences in past and present.” She then nodded at her sister. “Weiss and I, for example, share many things in common, but we’re still distinct individuals. Knowing that my own sister saw something in Yang bolsters my confidence that I’m not doing this out of a misguided attempt to prove myself; I genuinely see something within Yang that I find compatible, and considering I lack the desire to remain in one place for too long at present, there’s room to see where our relationship can develop that their relationship couldn’t.”

“And, I mean, I’ve learned a lot, too!” Yang chimed in with a laugh. “Going through all my old relationships, I’ve noticed that I kinda summarized them in my head a certain way, and it wasn’t always fair to them or me. Like, Blakey, I kinda thought I was just a phase for you. College experimentation, that sort of thing.” Her shoulders hunched again, lightly blushing as she continued. “And, Weiss, I thought I was just a fad. Dating someone who doesn’t make a lot, a drifter badgirl- a walking cliche. It wasn’t until Winter started fighting all my exes that I noticed... I never really gave myself much credit. I always looked back on the relationships as being doomed to fail, like there was nothing I could’ve done to change the way things went, and I noticed that I... was actually doing that a lot during the relationship, too. Being passive and just mentally preparing for the end long before it arrived.” She sighed. “I probably helped bring it about a couple of times because of that.”

Blake sat forward, concern pinching her brow and causing feline ears to lay back. “Yang, I never meant for you to feel like that. I mean- you weren’t a phase. I just wasn’t ready for a serious commitment.”

“I know.” The corner of her mouth twitched up into a crooked smile. “Hindsight’s twenty, twenty, yeah? But we never talked about it.” She shrugged. “I kept my mouth shut because, like I said, I didn’t think my feelings mattered, it would just mean a quicker route to the inevitable. So many people have run out of my life- it never really occurred to me to ask someone to stay, or to be proactive about keepin’ them around. Just... be there for them while I could, and try to act surprised when the goodbye came.”

The arm around her shoulders tightened, Winter offering gentle reassurance and pressing a kiss against the blonde’s temple. “It’s good that you’re talking about these things now. It’s not healthy to bottle everything up. It eventually leads to resentment, then to rage.”

Yang laughed. “Oh, don’t I know it! I think ‘salty’ is a pretty mild way of putting it when it comes to my first couple exes. You had to physically restrain me on number two.”

“He was a douche anyway,” Winter said, eliciting a gasp from her sister and a snicker from her girlfriend for the crass description. “Of all the people I’ve fought so far, beating him senseless was probably my favorite. I even used my bare hands.”

“And she doesn’t have a modifier on unarmed combat!” Laughing, the blonde raised her cup, lightly tapping it against her girlfriend’s own. “He felt every punch!”

For a moment, they all sat and imbibed their drinks quietly, one couple happily enjoying each other’s presence while the other contemplated their journey so far. For her part, Weiss though about Ilia and Sun, their differences and similarities and how she measured up against them. Not out of a sense of pride or competition, of course, but to see if she could identify the common thread. All three of them had caught Blake’s interest but why? And what could she do differently that would lead to something other than an inevitable break up? As she sipped her espresso, she found her gaze straying to the Faunus at her side, also lost in thought.

Blake’s brief descriptions of her previous relationships didn’t help much, but they were supported by the conversations she’d had with her opponents during the battles. Ilia and Blake had grown apart, each focused on their own dreams, and hadn’t done anything to try to reconnect in favor of ending the relationship. Sun, on the other hand, had thought things would just happen if they were meant to and put forth no effort on his part, which at first endeared him to Blake but ultimately frustrated her.

“Now, about our respective quests-”

“Snowdrift, we’re in no rush.” Yang made a show of bringing up her timekeeper. “See? We’ve got plenty of time.”

The Faunus shifted, clearing her throat. “Well, we wouldn’t want to keep you from a busy day. How long will both of you be in town?”

“That depends on how our quests go but I have two weeks of leave, so we’re truly in no rush.” Winter waved a hand, bringing up her own menu and tapping into her messages. “I just would like to accomplish the tasks as efficiently as possible so we have time to actually enjoy the city and one of my exes will be arriving around noon.”

Weiss winced, suddenly realizing how relatively simple her own quest must be in comparison. “Yang, are you sure you want to do this right now? What number are you on?”

“Sister, please don’t phrase it like that.” Winter shifted, looking something other than entirely at ease for the first time.

Her girlfriend, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh. “This one’s number seventeen, so I’ve got a ways to go.”

Blake nearly spat her tea out, ears standing up in surprise. “Seventeen.”

The elder Schnee sighed heavily. “I didn’t take my relationships very seriously early on, reducing them to physical gratification instead of deep, emotional connections, more to protect myself than for a lack of wanting the latter.” Taking a long pull from her coffee, she set the empty cup down and pushed it away. “If I’d known then what I know now, I would’ve been more selective and not called every person I made out with my partner-”

“Winter, please, I don’t need to hear this.” Weiss groaned, tilting her head back and trying to block out the words.

“-but we all make our youthful mistakes. That was mine.” She quickly flicked over to her side quest menu, scanning through the text. “Now, the way I see it, it would be most prudent for me to face both of you, that way you’ll restore to full health in time for Yang to fight Weiss.”

“And Blake.” The blonde corrected, finishing off her own drink. “Gotta fight her, too.”

Weiss’ brows furrowed, her attention sliding to her side. “Blake?”

“I... well, I did notice I could opt in to a ‘Defeat the Exes’ quest line. I thought it would mean I could help you against my exes, but I read the flavor text and it specified your ex.” She shrugged, pointedly looking down at her own cup, which seemed to be empty as well. “So... I accepted it. I thought it would be fair- I mean, not fair but better than just ignoring it altogether.”

“Well... I appreciate the reciprocation.” For a moment, she thought she should just leave it at that, but then decided against it. “And I’m sorry for being so short with you earlier. I know that this isn’t your fault but constantly feeling like someone’s out to get me- not just a respectable duel but a genuine game over. It has me on edge.”

“Then why do it?” Blake’s ears flattened into a straight line across the top of her head. “Why subject yourself to this paranoia in the first place?”

“Because you’re worth it!” She snapped back, chastising herself for the emphasis the moment the words left her mouth. “No one should go through life thinking that someone else has the power to make their life difficult out of spite. If this is the only way to knock some sense into that reprehensible ex of yours, than that’s what I’m going to do.” Weiss glanced at the Faunus, opting to divulge a little more than she normally would. “I know what it’s like to have someone controlling your every move, through direct and indirect means. I also understand how difficult it is to break free of that, and how it makes you feel incredibly alone in the freedom you find afterwards.” Steeling her nerves, she looked into Blake’s eyes, absolutely resolute. “At least this way, you won’t be alone when he tries cornering you again, like he inevitably will. I’ll be there to help.”

A soft smile curled the Faunus’ lips as she reached over, lightly covering the woman’s hand with her own. “Thanks.”

Turning her wrist so she could hold Blake’s hand, Weiss felt a matching smile on her own features, and didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed when she noticed the gleam of pride in her sister’s eyes. “So, who would you prefer to fight first, Winter? Myself or-”

“I’ll challenge you both, at the same time. It seems most time efficient to do things that way.”

“I feel like I should be insulted,” Blake said, raising a brow while Yang’s expression pinched in concern.

“You sure about that? They’re both plenty strong-”

“If I’m not capable of being strong enough to defeat two opponents at once and gentle enough to take you on a date immediately after, then, quite frankly, I don’t deserve you.” Offering a smirk tinged with smugness, Winter used her free hand to gently tip the blonde’s chin up, sneaking in a soft kiss with a wink thrown in for flair. “So seeing as we have the opportunity to test that, why not indulge?”

Yang chuckled, nuzzling further into the embrace. “Someone, help, I think I’m gonna swoon.”

“You can’t swoon if you’re sitting down,” Weiss said, still not entirely comfortable with watching her sister be affectionate with her ex. She could admit she was happy that they seemed so enthralled with each other but it would take some getting used to on her part.

“If anyone could find a way to do it, though, it would be Yang.” Blake chuckled, bumping her shoulder lightly. “We might as well get this over with. Parking lot, five minutes?”

“That sounds reasonable.” Winter nodded, standing up and helping the blonde out of the booth, the two carrying on a quiet conversation as they started for the coffee shop’s doors.

Before the shorter woman could follow them, the hand clasping hers tugged lightly, calling her attention to the pensive expression across her companion’s face. “Something wrong?”

“I just thought we’d give them a few moments alone.” Amber eyes gleamed with a teasing remark left unsaid. “They seem happy together.”

“They do.” Weiss nodded, contemplating her empty cup for a moment before speaking up. “Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Earlier, you called me your girlfriend,” she said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. “Was that a slip of the tongue?”

“... no.” She shook her head with a weak chuckle, as if trying to convey nonchalance, though the twitching of her ears hinted otherwise. “It’s like you said- no one except me should have a say in what I choose to do with my life or who I choose to be with, so waiting until you’ve defeated my exes to call you my girlfriend seems like playing into Adam’s game.” She flashed a smile, brushing black bangs out of her eyes and fighting back a blush. “And, we’ve been on a date already. I’d say you’ve earned a second one.”

Weiss smiled, squeezing the hand in hers. “Would you like to see a movie tonight, then? Or would you prefer dinner?”

“Why not both?” Blake shifted, acting as if she was trying to get a better look at her menu options but somehow managing to move closer once she’d settled, their shoulders brushing as she tapped on a saved location. “The Movie Tavern has a special tonight.”

“That sounds lovely.” Taking the initiative, she leaned over and pressed a kiss to the Faunus’ cheek, admiring the bright flush that appeared when she sat back and pretended to turn her attention to the displayed movie times.

Even if the impending beatdown from Winter- because she harbored no illusions that her own sister would take it easy on her- and subsequent match against Yang would prove to be quiet difficult, it would be worth it.

... but she still found the ‘Evil Exes’ moniker ridiculous, and this just proved her initial point even further. “Do you think we’re listed as ‘Evil Exes’ on Winter’s menu?”

“I think it’d be better if we never find that out for sure,” Blake muttered in reply, still sporting crimson cheeks and a giddy little smile.

#TRR writes #Monochrome #Elderburn #past Calico #past Eclipse #past BumbleBY #past Freezerburn #Weiss Schnee vs The World

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sprnklersplashes · 7 years ago

Text

I Can Be Your Hero (2/?)

AO3

After the fires were completely out, Emma managed to get back to West Co in next to no time at all, which pushed her to the limits. Sure, flight was just like riding a bike, but like you hadn’t ridden in years and were thrown into the Tour de France. She quickly scrubbed the worst of the ash and dirt and swear off in the bathroom.

Then of course the minute she reappeared (with everyone so glued to her antics on the TV they had hardly noticed her gone), Zelena started demanding for pictures, scoops, stories, anything to give an insight into this mysterious woman. The sports writers dropped their football scores and beauty columnists stopped writing about blush and ran to the scene to get interviews. Luckily, Miss Mills wanted Emma to stay in the office and run errands for her. Which sounded like heaven, sitting at her desk and casually sorting through e-mails with a coffee, but in reality had her running up and down stairs to collect stories and letters from various departments.

With the running and fetching and carrying on top of the strain she had already put her body through, Emma found herself sagging against a wall, letting the metal cool her fiery cheeks. Her legs began shaking and she groaned softly. The last thing she needed was to pass out at work.

“Snow?” Killian asked from behind her. She groaned again, louder this time, and forced her eyes open. Killian was standing with the corner of his mouth quirked up but concern in his eyes and his good hand ready to catch her if she fell.

She heaved herself off the wall, hoping the heat on her face didn’t mean she was blushing.

“I’m fine,” she muttered.

“You don’t look fine. In the nicest possible way.” He moved to hold her but thought better of it and stepped back. “Zelena giving you a rough time?”

“You could say that.” She started heading towards the office and he fell into step with her. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do, actually.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Not in that way, Emma. I have to see Zelena about a few things.”

“Oh.” They fell into a slightly awkward silence as they began ascending the stairs, the only sound being Emma’s breathing that slowly but surely got worse until Killian stopped.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. She let out a sigh but refused to stop walking.

“Just a little tired,” she admitted, knowing full well that ‘little’ was an understatement. All she felt like doing was going home and collapsing into bed.

“Anything I can get you?” he asked. Emma laughed and shook her head, wincing as it started to hurt. “I have pain killers in my office, I can run them up to you.”

“Thanks but I don’t need painkillers,” she said as they reached her floor. “Just need to get through today.”

Killian nodded and let her go to her desk while he headed for Zelena’s office.

“Hey, Kill,” Graham greeted absent mindedly, catching Emma off guard completely. “Still hiding out downstairs?”

“Hey Graham, still slaving at a computer?” Killian asked, giving a cheeky smirk before strolling into Zelena’s office.

“You know him?” Emma asked. Her legs were still sore but it was a relief to sit down for once.

“Friend of mine, we knew each other in college,” he explained. “Then he showed up here.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s fun. Bit of a laugh. Can’t take anything seriously.” Graham swung his chair round to face her. “Do you like him?”

“No. Barely know him.”

Then about half an hour later, Emma had gone down to one of the lower floors and returned to find a takeaway cup of tea, a pack of cookies, some bottled water and painkillers sitting on her desk with a note scribbled on a pink post-it.

Just in case you need it-K.

*****

When Emma returned home, all she wanted to do was run herself a nice hot bath and slip in, but unfortunately she was too exhausted to even put herself through the effort. Instead she tossed her ripped shirt in the trash and wriggled out of her trousers and slipped into her softest sweatpants and favourite loose t-shirt before flopping on the sofa and turning on the TV.

And what else would be on the TV but her. Well, a blurry shot of her flying around the building taken from a cellphone.

“It was amazing,” a woman being interviewed said. “She was flying, and she put out the fires with her breath-her breath- and then she put them all out and got us out!”

“She lifted my daughter down from that building,” an emotional looking man said as he held the girl who Emma recognised as the girl she first saved. She was coughing a bit and clinging to her father for dear life, but she smiled. “She lifted her down and saved her. God knows what I would have done if she hadn’t shown up when she did.”

“Sir if you could tell this woman something, what would you tell her?”

“I’d tell her she is amazing. And I’d thank her a million times over.”

The program kept going but Emma was no longer listening. She kept replaying the words ‘she is amazing’ over and over in her mind.

For the first time in a while she felt amazing. She felt powerful, strong. She felt helpful and needed. She felt like she had done something right. Something that she was always meant to do. She had made a difference in other people’s lives.

Unable to contain herself, Emma jumped up and danced for joy (despite her previous exhaustion), a high pitched squeal and laugh coming out of her as she did so.

Her celebration was interrupted by a knock at the door. Emma stopped and composed herself, fixing her hair in the mirror, before running to the door and opening it to find Elsa.

Growing up, Emma and Elsa had been joined at the hip. Maybe it was because Elsa felt as if she had responsibility for Emma-she did find her after all-or maybe it was because Elsa found her that the two shared a heartfelt connection, making them best friends as well as sisters. Maybe it was just how they turned out; having lived in the same home, shared a room, bathroom, meals and even clothes, for years.

In any case, Emma and Elsa had become so close that they only needed a look to see what the other was thinking.

And given the look on Elsa’s face when Emma opened her apartment door, Emma saw she was in for a lecture. Or three.

“Okay, Elsa please don’t freak out,” Emma begged as her sister swept into the room with such grace and poise she practically screamed ‘I work in a high ranking university and my car probably cost more than you could dream of’. “I know it was a stupid idea-”

“Emma, what were you thinking?” she asked. “Seriously what were you thinking? Showing dozens, probably hundreds of people who you are?”

“No one saw me,” she assured her. “Trust me I’ve seen the footage. That could be anyone.”

“Any tall, pretty blonde in the city?”

“There are plenty of tall pretty blondes!”

“Emma,” Elsa sighed, placing her hands on her shoulders. “You could have been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t,” she replied. “Don’t you see? I saved them. I helped so many people, Elsa.”

“Your parents sent you here so you could be protected, Emma.” Emma couldn’t help but feel guilt then. “So you could be safe. Not so you could expose yourself. That is the worst way to keep yourself safe.”

“People needed help,” Emma insisted. “And that is what my parents would have wanted. They wanted me to help people. That’s all they did. Why shouldn’t I do that too?”

“I am not saying that,” she sighed. “I am saying you should not be out there, risking your life-”

“Why not?” Emma asked. “If I can do these amazing, extraordinary things, why shouldn’t I use them to help people?” Elsa opened her mouth but Emma held up a hand to stop her. “Elsa, I love you. I love you and Anna and Ingrid more than anyone on this planet. But you’re wrong. I had to hide this part of myself for my whole life. Do you know how that felt?” Tears sprung up in Emma’s eyes.

“You know that I do.” Elsa whispered. After realising she was asexual and a lesbian at fifteen she hid it from Ingrid and confided only in Emma until last year. If anyone knew about what it was like to hide a part of yourself, it was her.

“Elsa as much as I love you I am not one of you. I’m not human. Shouldn’t I be allowed to embrace that?” Elsa wiped her sister’s tears. “I don’t want to hide anymore. For the first time in a long time I have felt like I was doing something right. Like I was doing…..”

“What your parents wanted?” Emma nodded and Elsa pulled her into a hug. “Emma, I-”

“I felt like I had to. I had to help them because I could.” Elsa turned and looked at the TV, where the same man was still talking.

“And I think that this woman is most definitely not human. But I don’t care. Because she is brilliant. And anyone who was going to risk her life for my daughter is ok in my books.”

“There’s no talking you out of this is there?” Elsa asked. Emma smiled and shook her head. “Then I’m with you on this.”

“Thanks.”

“Ingrid is going to kill you.”

*****

Emma arrived at work the next day feeling much better; after her talk with Elsa, she took a long hot bath and spent the rest of the night with a hot cocoa and her sister by her side, listening to her jokes and complaints until she finally fell asleep.

And maybe it was the afterglow of last night but she found herself a lot more content than she normally was. She smiled as she picked up Miss West’s usual order in an overly crowded coffee shop, nor did she get irritated when a text from Miss West popped up on her phone to pick up some columns from the sports section and that she needed photocopies of several different articles on her desk before she arrived.

“Someone’s chipper,” Graham remarked as Emma entered.

“Well, you know, the sun is up, the birds are singing, what’s not to smile about?” Graham raised his eyebrows at her.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked. “Do you need me to call someone?” Emma rolled her eyes, still smiling, and walked into Zelena’s office to place the photocopies on her desk.

“Turn the news on!” Isaac Heller asked from the back of the room as Emma came back. “I want to see if that woman is still on!”

Graham lifted the remote and flipped to the news. Sure enough, the anchor was talking about Emma’s adventure the previous day and the blurry photo of her flying next to the building. Emma looked down, hoping no one would see the proud smile on her face.

“Well would you look at that?” Graham sighed. “What do you think?”

“She’s….. she’s cool I guess.” Emma shrugged off her jacket. “I mean, the flying and all, that’s cool.”

“She’s more than cool, she’s brilliant,” Graham remarked. “And only a little scary.”

“Scary?” Emma asked, flinching when she realised how loud she was being. “How so?”

“Just, she flies around, she breathes out ice,” he said, shrugging. “I just hope she stays on our side.”

“She will. At least I think, I hope, why would she not?” Thankfully, the glass doors swung open before she could dig herself into a deeper hole.

“Morning all,” Killian greeted as he entered, carrying a plastic wallet.

“Killian, what do we owe the pleasure?” Graham asked, but he was smiling. “Come to join us lowly writers?”

“Alas, I am her strictly on business. Looking for Miss West’s personal assistant.” He flashed Emma a smile and she responded by rolling her eyes only slightly.

“What can I help you with, Mr Jones?” she asked. He handed her over the wallet. “Just some photos for the next issue that she wanted. Emma lifted one out; it was a photo of the Wonderland apartments just after she’d left it. And another for the girl she had saved, posing with her father.

“When did you go down there?” she asked.

“Soon after I spoke to you yesterday,” he replied. “Miss West wanted some for the article.”

“They’re good,” she said. Killian smiled before turning to look at the TV screen.

“What did I tell you, Snow?” he said. “Big big universe.”

“You think she’s an alien?” Emma asked, willing her voice to drop in pitch. “Why?”

“Well, how many humans do you know can fly and shoot snow out of their mouths?” he asked. He laughed when he saw her face. “Nothing against aliens, Snow. I just hope she’s the friendly kind.”

“That’s what I was saying,” Graham commented. “Emma seems to be on her side.”

Killian checked his watch.

“And I should get back to work. See you later Graham, Snow.”

“Right, Kill,” Graham said, going back to his desk as Killian left. Emma pondered for a few minutes before running after him.

“Killian!” she called. “Killian, wait.” He turned and looked at her expectantly. “I just wanted to say thanks. For the painkillers and stuff. It did help.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that,” he chuckled. “Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“No, just….. long day,” she sighed. “Thanks.” He gave her a smile before walking off down the hall. She stood for longer than a second to watch him leave.

Graham had his eyes back on the TV screen when she returned. She sat at her desk and saw multi millionare businessman Mr Gold onscreen, talking to some reporter.

“What a jackass,” Graham muttered.

“Well I don’t care who she saved, she could have done a lot of damage. What if someone had been hit with that ice breath?”

Emma’s blood started boiling. She gripped her arm so tightly that her nails were digging into it. Her lips were pressed into a tight line.

“Emma, you okay?” Graham asked. Emma let out a deep breath and adjusted her glasses.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“This man is an ass, Emma,” he assured her. “Nothing he says matters.”

“Yes except he is a very rich and powerful ass with over 40 million Twitter followers,” Emma pointed out.

Who does this man think he is? Zelena said in the elevator.

“Miss West,” Emma alerted them. As usual, Miss West was greeted by her employees standing to greet her. Emma scurried after her into her office.

“Who does that weasel in a suit think he is?” she snapped to no one in particular as she paced the room. “No really, who does the think he is to talk about her like that?”

“Who, Mr Gold?” Emma asked.

“As if he has ever done anything useful in his sad, lonely and bitter life and is now raging on a superhero!”

“You think that woman is a superhero?” Emma asked, unable to keep the smile off her face. Gold’s comments from earlier melted away. She had never seen Miss West praise anyone, let alone calling someone a superhero. Zelena stopped pacing and looked at her curiously.

“Does it matter what I think?” Zelena asked. “The general public seems to think she’s a hero. And heroes sell, and that is exactly what is going to sell our magazines.” She strode over to her desk, perched on her chair and began typing. “We’re marketing her as a superhero, a beacon of hope, a role model-”

“Is that what you think she is?” Emma managed to blurt out. Her boss looked up at her, clearly surprised. Probably because that was the most she had ever heard Emma say in her presence that was not work related.

“I think she has the potential to be that,” she sighed. “And I am not wasting a second in getting here there. Hope, positivity, that rubbish sells, Jemma. Now what appointments do I have today?”

“Oh, um…” Emma ran out, lifted the organiser from her desk and ran back in, much to Miss West’s annoyance. “You have a meeting with Fiona Black at six thirty…..”

“Oh God no.” Zelena rolled her eyes. “That noir coloured nit and her condescendingly irritating proposals will put me in an early grave.”

“Should I cancel it?” Emma asked. Zelena shook her head.

“No, no I have to deal with it sooner or later. I’ve sent these columns down to the colour printer, go pick them up for me?”

And just like that, Emma was normal again.

On her lunch break, while sitting in the cafeteria with Graham, Emma received a text from Elsa.

Anna thinks she knows. What do I tell her?-Elsa.

Emma didn’t even hesitate. Anna deserved to know just as much as Elsa did.

Just tell her.

“Who’s that?” Graham asked through a mouthful of noodles.

“Elsa,” Emma replied, angling her phone slightly away from him. “Just wanting to know how I’m doing.”

I did. She’s screaming.-Elsa.

Emma chuckled softly. She wouldn’t have her messed up family any other way.

That evening, Emma found herself escorting Fiona Black to Miss West’s office. Fiona was the head of a radio station that, despite her less than perfect relationship (in both public and private) with Miss West, maintained a partnership with West Co. She was almost as fierce as Zelena was. Her voice was has strong as steel, her eyes could make even the strongest person squirm and she almost always got her way.

The exception was negotiating with Zelena of course.

All eyes were on her as she stalked into her office, where Zelena sat waiting like a queen on her throne. Emma was dismissed with the wave of a hand and could not get back to her desk fast enough.

“She didn’t want you to take notes?” Graham asked, raising an eyebrow.

“She specifically said not to,” Emma replied. “Meaning this is going to get messy.”

“I give them half an hour before they blow,” he said. Emma shook her head.

“Longer.”

“Ten dollars says I’m right.”

Forty-five minutes later, Fiona was storming out of Zelena’s office, fury etched onto her face. Zelena stood in the doorway with a triumphant smirk. Through the glass door of Zelena’s office, Emma could see them fighting. Well, Fiona was fighting, Zelena was conversing with a wide smile.

Graham sighed and handed Emma over a ten dollar bill.

“Jemma,” she called, her tone too sweet to be anything but a jab at Fiona. “Take Miss Black out to her car, please. Wouldn’t want her out alone in that strom.”

“No need,” Fiona snapped. “I can make my own way without your assistant’s help.” Fiona straightened her jacket as if to preserve what little dignity she may have possessed. “Goodbye Miss West.” Zelena chuckled as she watched her storm into the lift.

“And my personal lift too,” Zelena huffed. “The nerve. Jemma, in here.” Emma let out a long sigh, rolled her eyes at Graham and followed Zelena into the office.

“Yes, Miss West?”

“Scrap the piece about new communications.”

“The one that specifically sites Miss Black as a leading woman in media?” Emma asked. This was a new level of petty, even for Zelena.

“Yes. If she needs us to bring people to her glorified blog I’d say she was going downhill anyway.”

“So the partnership with GoldenRadio?”

“Is off, Jemma, yes,” Zelena sighed. “Now unless you want our partnership to finish as well, go get rid of those articles.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emma sighed as she left.

*****

Emma had just changed out of her work clothes, damp from the walk home in the rainm and into her sweatpants and was heating up a mac and cheese for dinner when there was a knock on the door.

“Anna?” Her younger sister stood on the other side, her brown hair still in two pigtails (which she somehow managed to pull off without looking like a complete idiot), nestled under a green knitted hat and wearing a purple overcoat. “Come on in.”

Anna smiled and bounced into her apartment.

“Elsa told me that she told you,” Emma said, smirking. Anna grabbed her and pulled her into a slightly too tight embrace.

“Emma I’m so proud of you,” she squealed. “You’re like a superhero. A real life superhero. Like….. Wonder Man.”

“I think you’re getting your heroes mixed up,” she chuckled. “But thank you. You really think I’m doing the right thing?”

“I know you are,” Anna insisted. “If the world gets into trouble who better to save it than my sister?” Emma squeezed Anna’s hand in gratitude.

“Means a lot, Anna.”

“And that’s why I’m here. If you’re going to be a superhero, you’ll need a costume.”

“A costume?” Visions of leotards and tights sprung up in Emma’s mind.

“Well, think of it as a disguise. After all you can’t have people knowing you’re you, right?” Emma nodded, she did have a point. Anna lifted a sketchbook out of her bag, flipped a few pages and handed it to her. “I designed this on my lunch break. What do you think?”

It was a short, above the knee dress with a pleated skirt and elbow length sleeves. Anna had added a belt, knee high boots and-because of course-a cape.

“You designed this for me?” Emma whispered. Anna nodded.

“Well I thought I had to do something to help.” Touched, Emma wrapped her arm around Anna’s waist. “I figured you might need a little more cover up, but then again, you’re bullet proof.”

“I think it’s great. I just need to make one little adjustment.” She picked up a pencil from the counter and sketched something onto the top; bird with a curved neck so that it resembled an S.

“A swan?” Anna asked.

“No. It’s the symbol of my home planet. Of Storybrooke.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I feel like if I’m going to go into battle saving this planet I should have a reminder of my old one.” Anna wiped her sister’s tears away.

“I get it. And I can have all of this made.”

“How? The closest thing you’ve come to making clothes is designing costumes for your school’s drama department!”

“And we had the best looking Cinderella to ever grace a stage. Just give me a week, okay?”

Emma looked back at the costume and imagined herself in it. She could see herself

“Okay.”

*****

A week later, Emma stood in her bedroom, windows locked and curtains drawn, staring at herself in the mirror. The all-white dress hugged her figure tightly but left plenty of room for movement. The skirt fell just to her knees, leaving a lot of room to kick (she’d tried). Despite the short sleeves it was warm, which would very much come in handy. The whole thing was secured with a gold belt around her waist. The cape stopped just below her knees and was-according to Anna-fire retardant. The boots reached up to her knees. She had pulled her hair out of its bun and let it fall loosely across her shoulders and taken off her glasses. Finally, her planet’s symbol stood out proudly on her chest.

She certainly looked the part of a hero.

“Emma?” Elsa crept into the room, startling her. “Sorry, I just worried.” Anna stood behind Elsa and her face lit up upon seeing her handiwork. “You look amazing.”

“You think so?” Emma asked. Putting the costume on made her feel different. She wasn’t just Emma Snow, she was the protector of this planet. And the legacy of her own one.

“Definitely. Very empowering,” Anna added. “And if I’m correct, and I probably am, the whole thing is pretty durable, so it shouldn’t wear and tear. Even when flying.”

“Only one way to find out.” Before either of them could ask what she meant, Emma ran to the fire escape and flew into the night.

She sped around the city, too high for anyone to see her. The wind tangled in her hair and the altitude was making her heart race and the only sound she could hear was the wind in her ears.

It was exhilarating to say the least.

She stopped on top of one of the towers, smiling from ear to ear. And sure enough, not a tear on her outfit.

Emma looked up to the stars and touched the logo on her chest. It was the closest she would get to holding her mother’s hand again.

*****

One week earlier, after Zelena and Fiona’s meeting

Fiona Black slammed the door of her Porsche as she got out. To say she was ‘fuming’ would be an understatement. No way in hell would she let that witch have the last laugh. Let her start to tear down everything she had built up after years of scraping herself up from nothing.

“Over my dead body,” she exclaimed.

It seemed the world took her literally. Not ten seconds after she said that, a lightning bolt struck her car, which in turn sent the electric shock right to her.

Fiona grunted as white hot pain flooded her. Her arms and legs twitched uncontrollably as lightning made its way through her body, making every inch of her body, down to the fingertips, sting like never before. Her legs gave out and she felt herself fall to her knees and then her face hitting the gravel as the pulses of pain slowed to a steady rhythm.

Just before she gave in and let herself go, accepting death only because it was surely less painful, she felt something roll her over and lift her up.

When Fiona awoke, she realised she was still in pain. Her hands were hot and stinging. She made to move but quickly realised that she was stuck. She managed to raise her head slightly and saw that her wrists and ankles were strapped to a table with some kind of metal.

“Hey!” she called out into the dimly lit room. “Hey, where am I?” She struggled against the bonds but it was no use. “Hey let me out!”

She heard a door slide open and the sounds of high-heeled footsteps come towards her. Up until then, Fiona had been sceptical but in that moment, her first thought was ‘aliens’. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what came next; she expected something to puncture her skin.

Instead, the lights came up and her bonds were undone. She felt hands on her shoulders helping her into a sitting position and opened her eyes to see a woman with pale skin and black hair smiling at her.

“Who are you?” she asked, her tone both fearful and angry. “Where am I? What have you done?”

The moment she said ‘done’, a bolt of lightning flew from her hand and scorched the floor. Terrified, Fiona pulled her hand to her chest.

“Think of me as your guardian angel,” the woman purred. “And I am here to help. If it wasn’t for me you’d be dead.”

“Dead?” she echoed. “The lightning…..”

“Lucky I happened by when I did,” she said.

“Am I in a hospital? My son, did you contact him?” The woman’s face fell and she caressed Fiona’s face with a gentle, cold hand.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you had any family. You see this isn’t a hospital. This is a spaceship.”

“Spaceship?” she said, half laughing. “No, you’re wrong. I’m dreaming.”

“I assure you this is quite real. Come.” The woman made to help her stand but Fiona flinched back. “I don’t bite, I promise.” She guided Fiona to her feet and helped her walk, unsteadily, to the wall. After pressing a button on the wall, a section opened to reveal a window, with Earth far below. Fiona’s knees buckled at the sight of everything she had ever known so far below her.

“Are you an alien?” she whispered.

“Yes.” Her eyes widened. “But I won’t hurt you, I promise. Come, let me sit you down.” Once Fiona was seated, the woman perched at the edge of her bed, a good distance from her. “I’ve come to help you. If you do something for me.”

“What could I possibly do for you?”

“Well, let me explain. The lightning that could have killed you? After I saved you I bonded it to your DNA. Hence the lightning bolt you shot from your hand.”

“You mean….. I have powers? Like some sort of mutant?”

“Oh mutant is such a harsh word. Why not try ‘hero’? No one in the world can do what you do, Fiona. I didn’t just save your life, I elevated it.”

“No!” she protested, beginning to cry. “No. I can never go back now. I can’t go back to my son and shoot lightning at him. You didn’t save me, you destroyed me!” Another bolt of lightning shot from her hand and she jumped back.

“No, no, no. You can learn to control it.” Fiona slowed down and looked at her. “Aboard this ship I have state of the art facilities to help people such as yourself. I have met species with such abilities as your own. After some time with me you will bend these new gifts to your will.”

“And then help you?” she asked. “How?”

“As I understand it, you are angry with someone. A Miss West, correct?” The very name of that woman brought Fiona’s earlier rage back and lightning flew from both her hands and scorched the wall. “You could use these powers to get to her. And by getting to her, you could well be helping me get to someone I need to find.”

The pain in Fiona’s hand stopped. It was still warm, but the sensation now thrilled her, painting a smile on her face. And that smile would only broaden once she destroyed Zelena West. Finally, the witch would get her lesson.

And maybe a few others who had wronged her could learn too.

“When do we begin?” she asked.

#captain swan #cs ff #ouat #fic: i can be your hero #otp: a happy beginning

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