#i mean none of these shows have enough brown people and lesbians and as a brown lesbian thats important to me but

[footagedump]

if they combined malcolm in the middle and gilmore girls into one show i would want twenty seasons. it would become my favorite comfort show.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Nineteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: another chapter where the girls are clowns and cassian worships nesta's every breath 🙄 i promise some variety is headed your way soon

***

Gwyn adamantly refuses to accept any gifts for her birthday, much to Emerie’s irritation and Nesta’s relief. No amount of love for her friends can make Nesta enjoy the turmoil of hunting for the perfect gift, and she happily shows up at Gwyn’s apartment that night with nothing save for an overnight bag.

Gwyn easily has the nicest home out of all three of the girls, and it makes Nesta feel oddly proud to have a financially stable friend. Nesta herself has been flacking on her legal consultant duties to Night Court Inc., choosing to make do with the money she’s already earned while focusing on school.

Once they’ve all changed into sleep clothes and are settled around the living room coffee table with a cupcake and a glass of wine each, Gwyn pulls out a brightly colored bracelet-making kit with a sheepish grin. “I found this while I was looking through my childhood things,” she says, opening the kit. “You guys aren’t too grown for it, are you?”

“Depends,” Emerie hums, leaning over to get a closer look. “Is it Rainbow Loom?”

She gets her answer when Gwyn dumps out bundles of multicolored string instead of rubber bands onto the table. Looking disappointed, Emerie plucks up a handful of string. “Fine, I guess I can make do.”

Nesta licks cream cheese frosting off her thumb. “How do you make them? The bracelets?”

She’s met with two dumbfounded stares. “Have you never been to a thirteen year old’s slumber party?” Gwyn says.

“...No?”

When Gwyn and Emerie keep staring, Nesta feels the need to add, “I’ve never been to a sleepover. This is my first.” She was never one to be invited to sleepovers or social gatherings; even when she made acquaintances in middle and high school, they were just that—acquaintances.

“That’s… actually kind of sad,” Emerie says. Gwyn elbows her hard, making her yelp.

“I never thought of it that way,” Nesta says, shrugging. Though maybe it’s because a lot of things about her childhood were sad; it isn’t like she kept count of it all.

“Well, you can learn how to make bracelets now,” Gwyn states, taking out a little plastic baggie and emptying it out onto the table. Small silver charms scatter everywhere. “Everyone gets three colors and one charm.”

Nesta leans forward, making out the different charms. She spies one in the shape of a book, and another in the shape of a dove, and one in the shape of a music note. She snatches up the eighth note before anyone else can. Gwyn takes the book for herself, and Emerie considers the selection of charms before picking a dagger-shaped one. They prepare their string next.

“Now, we can either braid them or knot them.” Gwyn demonstrates how to do it either way, Nesta watching closely before imitating her. She braids the strings of her bracelet as best she can, her cheeks turning red with frustration whenever she spies one of the other girls’ perfect knots. Her half-eaten cupcake is forgotten as she tries to get her bracelet to stay together.

At one point she just has to accept the shoddy work she’s done and tie the bracelet off. She checks to see if it fits on her wrist.

“Now everyone give their bracelet to the person on their left,” Gwyn declares.

Nesta clutches her sloppily-made bracelet to her chest as Emerie responds, “What?”

“So we can wear each other’s bracelets,” Gwyn explains. “And carry around a part of each other all the time.”

“If I had known we were gonna be sentimental, I wouldn’t have picked the cute charm,” Emerie grumbles. Nesta agrees, but Gwyn just clicks her tongue and starts switching bracelets around. In the end, Nesta has Emerie’s dagger bracelet, Gwyn has Nesta’s music note bracelet, and Emerie has Gwyn’s book charm.

Nesta wiggles her bracelet on and turns her wrist over in the light. “That was fun,” she decides. “What happens next at a sleepover?”

“Next,” Gwyn says, “we exchange our most embarrassing secrets with each other, and then we do each other’s hair.”

Emerie shakes her head. “Okay, now I’m really too old for this. Anyone want to watch a movie?”

Gwyn nudges Emerie. “I’m the old one here, and it’s my birthday.” She raises her pert chin in a way that doesn’t look very grown up at all. “What I say goes.”

Emerie flicks up an eyebrow and stares in challenge, which Nesta interrupts by saying, rather exasperatedly, “I’ll go first, then.”

She digs around in her head for something embarrassing enough to be socially acceptable, only to realize that although a lot of embarrassing things have happened to her before, none of them are secrets. She finally settles on an admission. “When I was a kid, I had a thing for breaking and entering into rich people’s empty houses and hanging out in them. Does that count as a secret?”

Gwyn gapes, laughing in disbelief. “Are you going to leave it at that?”

“That actually sounds fun.” Emerie swirls her wine. “Why’d you stop?”

Nesta had almost forgotten. “I got caught.” She remembers the terror of being fourteen and fleeing past cherry blossom trees on her bare feet. “The owner’s family showed up early to vacation one year, and I never risked going back after that.” She shrugs. “Who’s next?”

Gwyn raises her hand excitedly. “I used to be a hardcore Gleek. Like, I had a closet full of Glee memorabilia.”

Nesta doesn’t quite know what to say. Emerie winces. “Maybe you should’ve kept that one a secret.”

“It was only one facet of my entire theatre kid personality. Should I tell you about the rest?”

Emerie raises her hands in surrender. “Please don’t. I’ll go next if it makes you stop.”

Gwyn laughs and Nesta perks up. “What’s your secret?” She hopes Emerie will finally admit to filling their shared Kindle account with lesbian spanking fiction.

But Emerie suddenly gets serious, clearing her throat and fingering the stem of her wine glass. “I might have the worst secret,” she says awkwardly. “I haven’t been honest with you guys.”

Nesta straightens, and Gwyn looks intrigued.

“In my defense,” Emerie says, “I never expected all of us to end up hanging out this much. Before Nesta and I became friends, all I did was show up to school to kick rich kids’ asses and make career connections.”

“Spit it out, Emerie,” Nesta tells her.

So she does. “I’ve been lying about my age.” Her cheeks turn red, either from alcohol or embarrassment, Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta furrows her brows. “You’re not twenty-four?”

Emerie shakes her head in guilt.

“How old are you, then?” Gwyn says.

Emerie mutters something too low for them to hear. When Gwyn tells her to repeat herself, she says, too loudly, “Twenty-eight.”

She’s met with silence, and then—

Gwyn starts cackling, nearly keeling over. Nesta can only stare in shock. “Why would you—?”

“Because school is a shark tank,” Emerie says. “Everyone else went there straight out of undergrad, and I had to work four jobs for four years just to afford tuition. Being old at Prythian means being poor.” She quietens, looking down at her brown hands twisted together. “And by the time we started to get close, it felt too weird to bring up. So… I’m sorry?” She looks up to see if Nesta is upset.

Nesta doesn’t know what to feel, but Gwyn seems to. “You called me old,” she accuses. “You’re nearly a grandma!”

“Were you going to lie about your age forever?” Nesta interjects.

“If I had known there was going to be a forever, I would have opened up a lot sooner,” Emerie defends.

Nesta drops her head onto the table and covers her ears with her arms. “This is so weird,” she says against the wood of the table, her voice muffled. “I can never look at you the same way ever again.”

“That’s fair,” Emerie says cautiously. “But are you really mad?” Nesta feels a hesitant hand touch her shoulder.

“I need time to process,” Nesta says from her cocoon. Suddenly she hears a hum and a click, and her cocoon gets even darker. Gwyn and Emerie make twin sounds of surprise.

Poking her head up, Nesta blinks to find total darkness in the apartment. The heater has stopped running, leaving behind a quiet stillness.

“Shit,” Gwyn curses, fumbling with her phone. The flashlight turns on, lighting up her face. “I swear I paid my electric bill.”

“I don’t think it’s just you,” Emerie says, getting up to look out the window. “Look, the whole street is out.”

By the time they gather some candles and light them, the apartment has dropped twenty degrees in temperature. Nesta shudders, wishing she’d brought some warm pants with her.

“Let me get us some blankets,” Gwyn says, running off to the linen closet. Emerie and Nesta huddle together on the couch while they wait.

“So you’re really not mad at me?” Emerie asks, hope in her voice.

“Not mad,” Nesta says. “But I think we all lost a little respect for you back there.”

Emerie smiles. “Just a little?”

Gwyn comes back then wearing a thick sweater and carrying a pile of comforters. “I got a text from the landlord,” she says, unceremoniously dropping the blankets onto the couch. “Ice took out the power lines in the whole neighborhood, and we’re not getting any electricity until morning.”

“But it’s negative temperatures outside,” Nesta protests. “We’ll freeze to death.”

“Not if we all cuddle.” Gwyn tries to beam at them, but the effort is futile. “I’m sorry, guys,” she sighs, plopping onto the couch beside Nesta. “This is a terrible birthday celebration.”

Nesta wraps an arm around Gwyn and tucks her into her side, soaking up her warmth as Emerie spreads a heavy comforter over all of their legs. “What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong.”

The girls sit in silence for a few minutes until Emerie speaks up. “I wonder what Mr. Madani is doing right now.”

“What?” Nesta frowns.

“He’s probably all alone in his fancy heated cabin, unaware that you’re stuck in the cold dark.” Emerie suddenly smacks Nesta’s arm. “Hey. Why are we freezing our asses off here when you practically own that cabin?”

“I do not practically own that cabin,” Nesta splutters. “And this is Gwyn’s birthday. Why would I take you to Cassian’s place on her birthday?”

“Exactly!” Emerie says. “It’s Gwyn’s birthday, and she deserves better than this. Can’t your boyfriend be a little charitable and share his nice house with us?”

Nesta turns to Gwyn for help, but Gwyn just says carefully, “...Is it a big cabin?”

Emerie nods fiercely, pulling out her phone. “Eris has a picture of it from New Year’s on his Instagram. You wouldn’t believe how much money these Night Court execs make.”

Nesta makes pointed eyes at Gwyn. “You really want to spend your birthday with two strange men?” Cassian and Azriel aren’t exactly meek, nonthreatening men either—at least not at first glance. Considering the state Gwyn was in just some weeks ago, this doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.

Gwyn sounds wary but open-minded when she says, “You trust them, right? And it’s not like we’re going to let the guys join our sleepover. We’re just going to have a warm place to stay while we wait for my power to come back.”

When it’s phrased like that… Nesta purses her lips, thinking.

“Fine,” she finally decides. “Let’s go.”

***

Nesta strips off her jeans almost as soon as she enters the cabin. Much to Cassian’s pride and pleasure, this leaves her wearing only one of his old sweatshirts. Meanwhile, Gwyn and Emerie stand around awkwardly in the middle of the living area without knowing what to do next.

“Make yourselves at home.” Cassian grins at them. “Do you need anything? Food? Drinks?”

“Stop worrying,” Nesta groans. “We don’t need to be mothered.”

“I totally hear you,” he nods. “I’ll make cookies.” And maybe some hot drinks. It’s supposed to be a birthday party, after all.

Just then, Azriel appears at the top of the stairs in a dark hoodie and sweats. He’s halfway down the steps when he notices the living room full of girls and promptly turns around.

Cassian calls his name before he can escape. “Want to help me out in the kitchen?”

“No, thanks,” Az says over his shoulder, leaving Cassian alone to play host.

While Gwyn and Emerie admire the cabin (“There’s a gym down the hallway and a library upstairs,” Nesta points out to them), Cassian gathers baking ingredients in the kitchen. He rarely eats desserts or junk food, much less makes them, but surely he can manage a snack for the girls.

When he returns to the living room half an hour later with cookies and mugs of hot chocolate, the coffee table has been moved out of the way and replaced with a spread of blankets and pillows. The fire crackles hotly enough that Gwyn and Emerie have joined Nesta in discarding any extra clothing articles, and they all cheer from the couch when they spy the food.

“Goddamn,” Emerie whistles at the platter of cookies on Nesta’s lap. “Nesta told us you were a catch, Mr. Madani, but she didn’t tell us she got the full housewife package.”

“Shut up.” Nesta shoves a cookie into Emerie’s mouth and passes Gwyn some hot chocolate. Any toughness vanishes when she looks back at Cassian. “Thank you,” she mouths, and he answers by smoothing out her ponytail.

Satisfied with his work and feeling guilty for crashing the girls’ fun, he’s about to call it a night when he feels a tug at his pants. Nesta is looking up at him with eyes that ask him to stay. Cassian glances nervously to Gwyn and Emerie, who are arguing about what movie to watch from his extensive streaming collection, and glances back to Nesta. Are you sure? he asks her silently.

She nods, but it isn’t until Gwyn says, “Just sit down, you’re blocking the TV,” that he indeed sits his ass down on the floor by Nesta’s feet.

A short tug of war between Gwyn and Emerie results in Emerie getting the remote. She blows a hair triumphantly out of her face. “No Planet Earth documentary for you, then,” she says.

Gwyn sits back, grumbling, “You’d think I’d get treated better on my damn birthday.” Nesta adds, “I like documentaries.”

“You’ll like The Proposal even more,” Emerie refutes, scrolling through the TV.

The smell of melting chocolate chips must invade the rest of the cabin, because not long after the movie begins, Cassian catches Azriel sneaking downstairs. As subtle as a shadow, no one even notices him until he plucks up a cookie from the side table by Nesta.

She slides her eyes over to him without turning her head. “You look like a punk with your hood up,” she snorts. “What are you, fifteen?”

From the floor, Cassian withholds a sigh.

Az shoots her a dark look, clearly not appreciating the attention brought to his presence. “Don’t be a little shit,” he warns in a low tone. He reaches for another cookie and Nesta bats his hand away. “Those aren’t for you,” she hisses.

“Can we please not—” Cassian tries.

Az glares and goes for the cookie again. Nesta smacks him back, which results in a slap fight that is only interrupted by Gwyn pleading, “Guys, we’re missing Sandra Bullock!”

Nesta pulls away, looking apologetic, and Az flushes pink. “Sorry,” he mutters. But he snatches up three cookies with a final look at Nesta and goes to sit in the armchair on the other side of the room.

Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie get cozy once more, quickly forgetting that Az is there. Emerie stretches her brown legs out across Gwyn’s lap like a cat. Nesta drapes her own leg over Cassian’s shoulder without warning. He turns around to meet her eyes, surprised, but she’s already intently focused on the movie. Smiling faintly to himself, he reaches up to brush her skin. It probably looks to everyone else like she owns him head to toe.

One thing Cassian quickly learns about the girls is that they simply can’t sit still. Even Nesta is more restless than usual, and she nearly kicks Cassian in the head more than once while readjusting herself on the couch. Emerie moves to sprawl on the rug. Gwyn sits upside down and watches with her head dangling off the seat.

As for Cassian, he loses all interest in the movie once Nesta joins him and Emerie on the floor, unable to contain her emotions from the couch. He glances between the movie and her face to find what’s making her so giddy, but it’s only the two main characters getting ready for a shower. He lifts a brow in amusement for no one to see, but settles back to watch her face in the glow of the dying fire. He’s waiting for her smile.

Because when Nesta really likes something, she’ll smile, and when she smiles… Everything scrunches up: her nose, her eyes, her cheeks.

On the TV, a naked Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock collide into each other, toppling to the floor. Nesta’s grin makes an appearance, and she slaps Cassian’s thigh in excitement, hard enough to hurt.

He hisses in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything or look away. He thinks he might have to kill anyone that refuses to protect the smile on her face right now, no matter who it is.

Once the scene changes, he walks two fingers up her leg to get her attention. “Nesta,” he whispers, unable to help himself.

She glances at him for half a second before looking back to the movie. “What?”

He opens his arms and gestures her closer. Come and let me hold you.

Nesta makes a face. “Don’t embarrass me in front of the girls.”

Cassian’s lips turn down. “You don’t mean that.”

She does. To prove her point, she crawls closer to Emerie and settles down next to her. Gwyn joins them on the floor, and they all huddle together.

When he catches Az staring at him with a hint of revulsion, Cassian coughs off the yearning and rejection and glares right back.

After the movie finishes, Emerie victoriously crushes an empty can of beer in her fist. Cassian has no idea where it came from. “More Sandra!” she demands.

It takes three more movies before Emerie is knocked out cold on the arrangement of blankets and pillows on the floor, Gwyn with her. Nesta eventually came back to Cassian and fell asleep with her arms wrapped around his waist, and Azriel passed out sometime after Miss Congeniality, curled up in the armchair with his fist propping up his head.

Now, Cassian carefully untangles Nesta from himself, nudging her towards Emerie instead. In her sleep, Nesta turns over to clutch the other woman’s arm and mumbles something unintelligible.

Cassian props a pillow gently beneath her head and picks up another one, throwing it harder than he needs to at Azriel’s face. “Get up,” he hisses.

Az jerks out of his sleep, looking around the dim room in confusion. Cursing lowly, he pushes himself out of his seat and scrubs a hand through his hair. “What time is it?”

“Three.” Cassian pulls a comforter over Nesta and Emerie’s shoulders.

Az crouches and picks up the other side of the comforter, adjusting it over Gwyn’s body. Cassian thinks he might see a frown cross his face for half a second, but then Az is standing up and brushing off his clothes.

After turning off the TV, the guys head for their rooms. “I didn’t think three grown women could be so... much,” Az says as they climb up the stairs.

Cassian huffs a laugh. “We were like that when we were younger, too.”

“Yeah, but we were teenagers.”

They reach the hallway. “I don’t know about the others,” Cassian says thoughtfully, “but Nesta never got to be a normal kid.” She barely got to be a normal adult. And in a couple of short years, she’ll be working her ass off at some prestigious firm and won’t have time for simple things like sleepovers anymore.

Cassian selfishly hopes he can give Nesta all the normalcy he can before that happens.

***

a/n: i’m gonna do my best in future chapters to give cassian depth beyond just his relationship with nesta 🥴 but first, be on the lookout for a gwynriel bonus scene :)

tags: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara9 @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Momo Yayorozu is a lesbian and just doesn’t know it yet.

my computer died half way through writing this and none of it saved so while I love momo I am done with it. 

Omega! Yayorozu x Alpha! Reader. 

warnings: light smut, 

word count: 2,300 (about)

summary: You and momo are good friends, you just wished you were a little more.

Yayorozu’s hands were unusally soft for a hero. I mean you’d think with all the fighting she did that she would have at least a few callouses on her hands but no, they were always so soft. Not that you were all that surprised, she probably had some fancy lotion that cost a fortune and worked miracles. Her hands were on you now, slowly working out the kinks in your shoulders. 

“You really need to be more careful (y/n) you could seriously hurt yourself if you keep trying to spar while you aren’t properly stretched out,” she scolded lightly. You knew she was right, but if this was the treatment you get for not stretching, you couldn’t complain. Her scent was soft, like cherry blossoms and citrus. 

“Not that I don’t apricate this Momo, but people might get the wrong idea if you stay so close to an Alpha,” you warned and felt her freeze for a minute. 

“I don’t care, Everyone knows were just friends anyway,” she said and you felt a sharp spear pierce your heart. that’s right, you were just friends. And of course, no one would think twice about Momo rubbing your shoulders, she was straight after all. 

The two of you were still surprisingly close for an Alpha and Omega to be. It hurt a little bit each time she took your hand in hers, or cuddled up next to you during class movie nights. 

Even though you had no chance, it was hard not to fall in love with her. 

“(y/n)?” Momo prompted and you realized she had asked you something while you were spacing out.

“Sorry what was that?” you asked 

“Do you want to get boba?” she asked picking up her gym bag and you followed her. 

“Sure,” you agreed and a wide smile spreading across her face making your heart do funny things. “my treat,” you added. and her smile evaporated turning into a stubborn pout.

“(y/n) why do you never let me spoil you?” she whinned hanging off your arm dramatically maing you chuckle. you placed your hand on her lower back steadying her.

“Come on Momo it’s just my Alpha instinct, You don’t want to hurt my pride do ya?” you shrugged and she huffed. 

“Okay but I’m paying next time,” she said and you agreed placidly.

The boba shop wasn’t too far from the gym you worked out at, momo staid on your arm as you walked. She leaned her head on your shoulder as you waited in line making your heart skip a beat. you looked around the small boba shop at the other people, and you wondered if they thought you were a couple. 

“Hey (y/n) will you order for me? I need the bathroom,” Momo said squeezing your hand and pulling away from you. instantly you missed her closeness.

“sure,” you said with a nod. and turned your attention back to the line thinking about what she would want. Normally she got the brown sugar milk tea but maybe you’d surprise her with the caramel one instead. 

You placed your order and waited patiently for your name to be called, then you felt a small tap on your shoulder. When you turned you saw a short yellow-haired omega girl looking up at you, a bright pink blush across her round cheeks. 

“Can I help you?” you asked polielty, 

“Oh! sorry I was just wondering if that girl you were with was your mate,” she asked and you did your best not to grimace. It wasn’t her fault so there was no use getting mad at her. 

“No, we’re just friends,” you admitted. She beamed 

“Oh! well my name is Peko and uhm i just think you’re gorgeous and I was wondering if you’d want to go out with me?” She offered, for an omega she was certainly bold. Suddenly Momo was back at your side, her hand taking its place in yours. 

“A friend of yours?” she asked. you squeezed her hand and turned your attention back to Peko.

“I’m sorry, you seem like a very sweet Omega but I’m a UA student and I’m too busy to date anyone right now, I’m sorry,” you said and winced as she deflated. 

“It’s alright, It was nice to meet you!” she said before scurrying over to her own friends. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make things awkward,” Momo said 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said with a shrug then to lighten the mood you elbowed her lightly. 

“Rejecting girls isn’t any big deal for a heartbreaker like me,” you teased wiggling your eyebrows

“Oh how could I forget Omega’s just love you don’t they,” she giggled. 

Momo couldn’t stop thinking about your interactions today. For some reason it felt wrong to see you with another Omega, one that was flirting with you no less. and even though you had said it as a joke, she couldn't help but think that you really were a “babe magnet” as Denki would put it. It made her uncomfortable for some reason. 

Maybe it was because if you stopped spending so much time with her you would have enough time for a mate. No, you were her best friend, you wouldn't just drop her like that, even if your future mate demanded it. Momo knew that if her future Alpha ever suggested she spend less time with you she would drop him in a heartbeat. No Alpha was worth losing you over. but what if you didn’t feel the same way about her? the idea gnawed at her.

While she had never asked it, Momo had always sort of assumed the two of you would stick together after graduation, maybe even move in together once you both started working. She could very clearly see herself coming home to you after a long day of work and relaxing in your arms. or dancing around the kitchen together while you thought her how to cook. 

But maybe that was just a fantasy in her head.

 Her skin felt hot, itchy. Signs of her upcoming heat. She started moving around the room picking at her nest and rearranging it lightly. it was made of soft blankets and stuffed animals on her enormous bed. and at the heart of her nest was a collection of items you’d scented for her. 

There were other items scented by alphas, but they were on the outskirts of her bed. None of them offered the comfort your scent did. Fermilar, soft, warm, protective. She wondered if she’d ever find an Alpha who smelled as good as you did. 

Her phone buzzed and she saw you had texted her. You wished her a good night, and told her that you would be stopping by after class to check on her, so she should text you if she needed anything. Momo smiled and wondered if she could sucker you into to Facetiming with her so she could fall asleep with you. She knew you would, You always spoiled her when she was this close to her heat. You were going to make some omega really happy one day.

Momo woke up late the next day, a dull ache set in to her whole body. She whimpered and checked her phone. Just another text from you telling her good morning and reminding her to text if she needed anything. She really did love you, as much as a best friend could love somone. 

Momo rolled on her side and brought her favorite hoodie to her nose breathing in your scent, which relaxed the pain some but also brought on a pang of longing in her core. She sighed, breathing in again, this was going to be a long day. 

You spent the whole day fidgeting and nervously tapping on your desk. It was hard to focus on the lesson being thought when your omega was out hurting. It was wrong to be so possessive of Yaoyorozu but you couldn’t help the flare of hormones that just so happened to hit you everytime she went into heat. 

You checked your phone religiously, Momo texted you as soon as she woke up telling you that she had everything she need but still wanted to see you after class. But that didn’t stop the fidgity way you checked your messages, after all you needed to know if she changed her mind. 

The second the bell rang you bolted out of the room, tearing to the dorm room grabbing a convenience store bag full of treats for her before tripping over yourself to get to her room. Even if Momo claimed she didn’t need anything you would sooner turn up dead than show up empty-handed. 

You took one deep breath before knocking at the door. 

“(y/n)?” she asked

“Yeah Princess it’s me can I come in?” you asked. Princess was a special nickname you only used when she was hurt or in heat, 

“The doors unlocked,” she replied and you took that as your queue to enter. To most Alphas, it would be maddening to walk into a room with an in heat Omega, but it was strangely calming for you. your nerves subsided as you saw Momo curled in her nest wearing one of your old hoodies. 

“You shouldn’t leave the door unlocked its dangerous,” you chided softly,  placing the bag on her side table and sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed, careful not to intrude on her nest. 

“ ‘snot dangerous, I have you to protect me,” she whinned. You alpha let out a deep internal purr. That was right, you were her alpha and you were going you protect her better than anyone else could. 

“Still you need to be careful when I’m not around Princess,”

“stop scolding me, come cuddle,” she huffed rolling her eyes and opening her arms. 

“are you sure? You want me in your nest?”

“(y/n) you make up half of my nest now come here.”  You thought about teasing her for being so bossy but decided against it. crawling over tward her and taking her warm body into your arms. Momo’s arms locked around you like a vice, you got comfortable knowing you’d be there for a while. 

she buried her nose in the crook of your neck breathing in your scent and her hands went to your hair, running her fingers through it softly. You held her just as tight, your hands trailing up and down the curve of her back.

“Missed you today,” you said into her hair, her breath tickled your neck as she spoke

“I missed you more,” 

“Now way you missed me more. You have a million things I scented for you it’s not the same,” you protested

“Did too miss you more, I’m in heat I needed my Alpha!” She shot back. you froze uner her and she pulled back, confused at your sudden change in mood. 

“Momo, you can’t say stuff like that,” you said gravely serious, then seeing the confusion on her face you contued. 

“you’re still an Omega, and one in heat for that, it does things to me when you say that,” you growled. 

Momo’s thighs clenched together, it was deeply appealing to know she could rile you up so easily.  Her hands moved to your stomach feeling the soft skin and bit her lower lip. She had never realised how much she needed to touch you. at that moment it didn’t mater to her that you were her friend, and a girl, she just wanted more of you. 

“so, It turns you on when I call you Alpha?” she asked. it was very unladylike of her, but worth it to see the blood rush to your face,

“Momo-”

“or is it the needing you part? because that was true I needed you so badly all day Alpha,” before she could even blink you had fliped her onto her back and crashed your mouth to hers. She responded eagerly, kissing you with a passion she didn’t even know she had. It was exhilarating to kiss you and feel your body press down on hers. it felt right.But as soon as it started it ended.

“Damn it,” you growled, angry at yourself for losing control. you forced yourself off the bed leaving momo dazed behind. Your mouth still buzzed, it had been everything you had ever dreamed of to kiss her. 

“I’m sorry Momo,” you said running your hand through your hair. “I should go,” you said, the smell was starting to get to you in a way it never had before, every instinct was telling you to kiss her again. 

“wait, (y/n) please,” she called, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back, she was too close and you pounced again. Kissing her ferociously, your tongue slipping past her soft pink lips. you moaned into her touch before ripping yourself away again. Fuck she was delicious. 

“I can’t control myself, I need to go,” you growled. 

“I love you (y/n) please stay. I want you to kiss me like that, I meant it when I said I needed you,” she pleaded, tears forming in her perfect gray eyes. you whipped her eyes and kissed her softly. 

“you mean that Princess?” you asked against her mouth, your hands lost in her thick black hair. she nodded, leaning in to kiss you this time. 

“I love you so much,” she said you pushed her back, laying yourself out across her chest. as you savored her kisses. 

“I’ve loved you for the longest time,” you said. 

“then you’ll keep kissing me?” she asked making you laugh. 

“mmhmm babygirl I’m all yours.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

that thunder in your lungs

A valentines day present for @spiky-lesbian, love you so much, glad you like this! From our Jupeter dads au but a little bit in the future 

Also on Ao3 where you can find the other fics featuring their daughter

-----------

Nureyev rarely felt so free as he did on a job.

It was almost giddying, wearing someone else���s face and someone else’s name, knowing that in a few hours he wouldn’t exist and could do anything he liked until then completely free of consequences. The waiting between jobs, the planning, that was the hard part, where he could only be himself- something that had never been an entirely safe haven. When he worked, he was unstoppable.

Or he had been. This time was proving to be very, very different.

Nureyev was dressed to the nines, armoured in makeup and jewels that weren’t his own, wearing a pretty, airy, glittery name and a life to match. His brightly painted nails were filed to points and his fingers had that greedy, confident itch to them, the security in knowing they would soon be holding something that didn’t belong to them. He should be having fun.

But he wasn’t. He carried a knot of anxiety inside him, one that refused to shift even as the plans came together and clicked comfortably into place.

Because across the almost sickeningly fancy party, a stunningly beautiful young woman moved through the crowd, looking devastating in her sharp tuxedo, hair pulled back into twin clouds of curls behind both of her heavily pierced ears. She was turning heads left, right and centre, pulling people’s gazes into her orbit as she sipped champagne and breezed through circles of young socialites like some glittering comet.

Which was not exactly great. Given that she had just as little right to be here as Nureyev did.

He stifled a sigh and made some excuse to the gaggle of people he’d been keeping at the edges of, leaving them to their idle and irritatingly wrong chatter about modern art. He made for the drinks table, meeting the young woman’s eyes and giving her a brief, stern look, giving her little choice but to head that way too.

Once there, he poured himself a tall flute of blue champagne and took a long pull until she appeared, leaning casually near him, enough that they could have an inconspicuous conversation under the lilting music.

“Having fun, daddy?” she hummed softly, eyes shining with innocence, “Your dress is very pretty.”

“I’d be having more fun if you were sticking a little closer to our directive, sweetling,” he muttered with what he thought was rather impressive patience, “...and thank you.”

Bianca tilted her head so the fine threads of gossamer thin gold that she’d weaved into her curls shone, “I don’t know what you mean, daddy. Seems like everything’s going well to me.”

He took a long, slow breath, “Darling, no one whose met you tonight is going to forget your face in a hurry. And seeing as we’re here to steal a necklace off the neck of the host, that isn’t a good thing. We need to be inconspicuous.”

“In that dress? Aw, daddy,” Bianca rolled her eyes in that infuriating way she’d inherited from her mother, like Nureyev had no idea what he was talking about, “I’m only having fun. This is my first proper run out, I’m just looking to enjoy myself. There’s so many pretty girls...”

“As long as it’s not at the expense of your safety, that’s fine,” Nureyev frowned, rolling his eyes and making a show of refilling his glass so the irritated note in his voice would be covered by the trickle of the drink.

“You’re so silly, daddy,” Bianca grinned playfully, “You told me all the time how much fun you had at places like this!”

Nureyev knew she was right and it only made his mouth set tighter, “Just...just be careful. We have to grab the jewels and be gone in another hour.”

“Of course I’ll be careful, daddy,” Bianca stood up straight, her gaze already roving over the crowds, her deep brown eyes lighting up with a mischief he knew all too well, “That’s what you taught me, right?”

And then she was off, she’d caught the eye of a young woman her age who was already smiling in welcoming anticipation. Nureyev was left to fume silently while letting none of it touch his face. He couldn’t decide which of the two of them she was being irritatingly similar to, himself or Juno, but it was raising his blood pressure to unsafe levels. Likely they were both partly to blame.

There was nothing for it then but to make his usual sweeping circles of the party- fortunately these private orbital stations had large, open rooms with few places to conceal nasty surprises- and be as twice as alert as he normally would be.

If you’re this bad now, how on earth are you ever going to let her go out on her own? A voice that sounded like his wife questioned in a voice that wasn’t unkind. Nureyev frowned and let his eyes pass lightly over her again, catching the moment as the latest girl who’d fallen into her orbit touched her hair and complimented it in a way that made his daughter grin dazzlingly.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew his daughter wouldn’t be content to stay with them on the Carte Blanche forever, only pulling jobs with one of her parents or her aunts watching like hawks from the opposite corner. She was too good for it and he was very aware of that, recognising the hunger in her eyes and the sparks of her brilliant mind. One thing Nureyev was certain of, he would nurture her talent and he would be ready to let her go.

It was just so hard.

Looking at her now, he couldn’t help but think of the very first job he’d ever taken her out on. She’d only been a few weeks old, small enough that he could hold her in one hand. Driven to desperation by only having one craft he was truly good at and now needing to feed two people rather than one, he’d strapped her to sling across his chest, made sure her face would always be covered by his own body and planned a very simple heist. It had only been breaking and entering to pilfer the jewellery box of some fabulously rich socialite without the sense to even post a proper guard, it was as easy to him as going to the supermarket would have been for someone else.

But still, Nureyev had been more terrified for that job than he had been to steal his very first apple from a street cart on a Brahman street at just five years old. He’d checked, double checked, triple checked every possible facet of the task and still it hadn’t felt like enough, his heart had been in his mouth every moment of the simple, smooth as silk job.

It had all fallen into sharp relief then, as Nureyev had agonised and fretted over things he’d been certain of how to do since before his twelfth birthday. He wasn’t just one man anymore, with only himself to look out for and worry about. There had been that second heartbeat, just a flicker against his own, stronger one, leaning towards his for support and comfort. There was his daughter.

Nureyev hadn’t run away from the change then and he wouldn't now. He’d gotten very good at accepting it but he didn’t have to like it.

So rather than giving his daughter another stern reminder to stay inconspicuous, he let her have her night. He got himself another glass of champagne and leaned against one wall to watch her sparkle, tasting pride with each sip of her drink. Melancholy too, but he could put that to one side for now, save it for a good, long cry in his wife’s arms when they got back to the ship. All part of being a father, he supposed.

Though time was soon ticking on, it always seemed to go so fast when wrapped in sparkling lights and fine drinks and dancing. Nureyev knew the telling off they’d get if they went back to the Carte Blanche without this necklace, seeing as it had the map to the family’s personal safe engraved in it’s stones. They couldn’t exactly drain the thing if they didn’t know where it was.

Bianca had been dancing with a succession of beautiful young ladies and as soon as she whirled out of the arms of the latest, Nureyev gave her another steady look and inclined his head. She pulled a bit of a face but was back in their same position at the drinks table before too long.

“Do we have to go already?” she murmured in a regretful tone, swirling her glass to watch the glitter dance inside the liquid.

“Go?” Nureyev gave her an uncomprehending look, “We haven’t even done what we came here to do! Would you like to go back to your Auntie Buddy empty handed and tell her you spent the whole party socialising, sweetling?”

His daughter gave him another smug smile and this time he knew it was all his traitorous genes at work, “Oh sorry, I tried to be obvious. Check your pockets, daddy.”

Nureyev did, as subtle as he could be, sinking his hand into the pockets of his sleek figure hugging dress and finding cold, square cut stones. He didn’t need to bring them out to know it was exactly the necklace they were here to acquire.

“I...how…” he could only stand and blink, not really caring how idiotic he looked.

Bianca grinned, clearly delighted with herself, “Careful, daddy, you’re being rather conspicuous.”

He quickly rearranged his face into indifference, though his daughter clearly knew him well enough to read the mix of shock, awe and incredulousness in his posture and keep grinning into her drink.

“Well. In that case, yes, we really do need to make a sharp exit. Any goodbyes you’d like to make before we do that?”

“Oh, I got all their numbers, don’t worry. Shuttle in five minutes?”

She didn’t wait for his reply, sauntering off into the crowd.

The trip back to the ship was a quick one, the Carte Blanche hovered behind one of Jupiter’s moons just a little ways away from the private station, happily cloaked in one of Rita’s shields. Bianca sat in the passenger seat, looking a little shamefaced now she was out of the music and the glitter, like she expected a telling off.

Instead, Nureyev waited until they’d passed out of any possible signal range the station might have and turned to her, reaching over and tucking a curl of hair behind her ear.

“You did very well tonight, darling,” he smiled, “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Bianca’s whole face illuminated, her smile returning.

“Of course. You did magnificently. And…” he cleared his throat and swallowed, “If I seemed a little...hard on you, I apologise. I suppose it’s hard for me not to worry about you. Please don’t take it as me thinking less of your skills, I just…”

“I get it, daddy,” Bianca’s voice softened and she leaned into his hand, “It’s okay.”

“Yes,” Nureyev smiled tiredly and nodded gratefully, “And whenever you choose to go out on your own, you will be amazing. I know you will.”

Bianca’s cheeks darkened and she smiled coyly, “I mean...I’m not in any rush, right? There’s still a lot I need to learn. Mama still says my aim needs work sometimes and Auntie Rita’s only just started showing me how to take down firewalls and Auntie Vespa said she’d teach me how to set a bone…”

“Of course,” Nureyev couldn’t help but feel a wash of relief as he leaned over and kissed her forehead, “Of course, my darling.”

But the day would come. And Nureyev would be ready, as ready as he had been to turn his life upside down and inside out for the tiny baby she used to be.

He could never stop worrying about his Bianca. But he would never stop being proud of her either.

[nightofthemeteor]

We Just Kind of Assumed

(A ficlet for Mitoka Melee Month - also here on AO3. Warning for implied/referenced homophobia, but this is happy fluff, I promise)

In hindsight, Mito could see how things had turned out this way.

The start of the term found Mito fresh out of high school and new to the city, nervous and excited and as determined to make friends as she was to succeed in her classes. It wasn’t like she’d ever had real trouble making friends before, but this wasn’t her hometown – she didn’t know how things worked here. So Mito studiously attended the welcome events her university sponsored, politely introduced herself to the other girls in her dorm, and cautiously checked out a few of the parties big enough for the invitations to trickle down to freshmen.

It was at a truly terrible house party in the second week of the term where everything started, and it started in a way Mito absolutely hadn’t expected.

She spotted the frat boy several seconds after he’d spotted her, and by that time he was already weaving his way through the crowded, noisy room to come talk to her. Mito, who had been nursing a drink in a corner and pretending she wasn’t acutely aware that she didn’t know anyone here, looked away quickly and tried to look busy – completely impossible, given that she was at a party and had nobody to talk to, aside from the frat boy sidling up to her.

“Hey,” said the frat boy. He was tall, with enough brown hair to shove into a messy bun under a backwards snapback, and by Mito’s assessment, probably good-looking enough that he was used to getting his way. “Are you a new student? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Mito bit her lip. She had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she was in no position to pass up conversation. “Yep,” she said, still not quite committing to it.

“That’s cool,” said the frat boy. “I’m in second year.” He leaned his weight on the wall beside her, clearly aiming for casual but coming off as slightly awkward, and said, “You looking for someone to – uh – show you around?”

At least that was quick, thought Mito, wincing internally. That come-on had been about as artful as the moving truck she’d seen crash into one of the dorms last week, but at least this ordeal had been brief. “Sorry,” said Mito – and then found her tongue stuck to the roof of her suddenly dry mouth. She could easily have said I’m not interested, or It’s getting late, I was about to leave, or I suddenly have a case of horrible diarrhea, but…this wasn’t her hometown, and things were supposed to be different here. Mito steeled her nerves, looked the frat boy in the eye, and said, “Actually, I’m a lesbian.”

The frat boy blinked. “Really?” he exclaimed – and then his face lit with an enormous smile. “Me too!”

“What,” said Mito. Shit, had she read this situation totally wrong? She’d just assumed –

“Oh, no – I mean, I’m bi. Sorry. Uh,” the frat boy stuck his hand out towards her, still grinning hopefully. “My name’s Hashirama.”

“Mito,” said Mito, shaking his hand bemusedly. This was – not the reaction she’d expected.

“Sorry about…” Hashirama waved his hand vaguely at the space between them.

“No worries,” said Mito, “But if I’m being honest, your flirting could probably use some work.”

Hashirama clutched his heart with the melodrama of a stage actor, hung his head, and gave the deepest sigh Mito had ever heard. Then, before she could react, his head popped back up, this time with a rueful expression. “Not my best attempt, I’ll admit,” he said. “But in my defense: flirting with girls is extremely scary.”

Mito laughed. She was still reeling from the turn this conversation had taken, but she was also immensely relieved – this was much, much less awkward. “It’s not that scary,” she said, almost automatically, though it wasn’t like she’d had much experience in that department herself. “Is it worse than flirting with boys?”

“Yes,” said Hashirama, and then held up a finger to say, wait – “But boys are terrible at flirting back.”

It only took a couple hours for Mito to find herself on the back steps of the party house, sitting beside an extremely tipsy Hashirama, admitting her fears about this new city, and in return listening to him rant about the guy in his classes he was sure would never like him back.

“Honestly, I was trying to find a way to take my mind off him,” Hashirama told her, big brown eyes shining tearfully in the glow of the streetlamps.

“By trying to pick up random people at this shitty party?” Mito asked. “That’s a terrible idea, Hashirama.”

“Yeah,” said Hashirama, and nudged her shoulder with his knuckles. “Good thing I met the right one, huh?”

They were best friends from then on.

---

Hanging around Hashirama meant that Mito was quickly introduced to his entourage. His friend group was a mix of eclectic and not always exactly harmonious personalities, but at least getting to know them helped reduce Mito’s lack-of-friends problem. There was Hashirama’s brother, Tobirama, who was reserved and cantankerous, but did offer to help her edit her essays, despite being in the same year as her. Then, there was the object of Hashirama’s admiration, Madara, who was loud and cantankerous, but also nice to her in kind of a brusque way.

And there was Hashirama’s cousin, Tōka. Tōka, who was on the women’s softball team, but was also studying engineering; Tōka, who liked to wear flannels and dark red lipstick; Tōka, who was a head taller than Mito, and was even taller than Hashirama in her thick-soled combat boots; Tōka, who had big hands and a sharp wit and a soft smile. When Hashirama introduced her to Tōka, Mito told the story of how Hashirama had introduced himself to her, sparing none of Hashirama’s feelings in the recounting, and Tōka reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

“I like this one, Hashirama!” She declared, and Mito, overwhelmed by Tōka’s dizzying grin and Tōka’s warm hand on her shoulder, nearly melted into the floor. In her desperation to conceal the blush she could feel heating her face, it never occurred to Mito that she hadn’t explicitly said she’d turned Hashirama down.

It didn’t take long for Mito to formulate a plan. It was simple, but then, nothing complicated was called for in this circumstance – not like Hashirama’s convoluted attempts to get Madara’s attention. Mito’s plan was as follows:

Become friends with Tōka.

Flirt with Tōka.

Ask Tōka out on a date.

It was simple; it was straightforward; and the first step was successful almost immediately. Tōka and Hashirama were roommates, so just by virtue of hanging out with Hashirama, Mito ended up spending time with Tōka. Over the course of a couple weeks, Mito learned that Tōka’s easygoing attitude was shot through with a serious competitive streak – just like Hashirama, although, as Mito learned, Tōka had better alcohol tolerance. She wasn’t as outgoing as her cousin, but it took very little effort on Mito’s part to strike up conversation. But most importantly, Mito learned that just like her cousin, Tōka gave physical affection as easily as talking. She’d casually brush aside a strand of Mito’s hair from her face, or sling an arm around her shoulders, or run a hand up Mito’s back to get her attention. Mito wasn’t used to that kind of casual closeness – it was driving her insane. Not that she really minded.

The problem was that Mito couldn’t tell if Tōka’s touches indicated interest, or were purely friendly. After all, Hashirama also had a habit of resting his hand on Mito’s shoulder, and of ruffling her hair (especially when she’d just finished tying it up) – and despite the way their friendship had started, Mito was certain he wasn’t interested in anything other than friendship. And here was the reason Mito’s plan was stalling on step 2: she could return Tōka’s touches, she could lean close to her over the study table or cuddle next to her on the couch, or reach out and tangle their hands together…but Tōka accepted all this without so much as blinking. Mito couldn’t tell if she even noticed.

Other people, however, certainly did notice. Hashirama picked up on what was happening almost right away, and immediately offered to be Mito’s wingman. Mito, having observed her friend’s own bumbling attempts at romance, politely refused this offer, but was privately relieved that he didn’t seem to mind her interest in his cousin (and was secretly elated that he thought she had a chance). Unfortunately, she couldn’t prevent him from sending her exaggerated winks from behind Tōka’s back. As supportive as Hashirama was, it came as an unpleasant shock to Mito that his brother, Tobirama, was most certainly not on board. More than once, Mito would put an affectionate hand on Tōka’s shoulder or laugh at one of her jokes, and feel Tobirama’s glare like ice on the back of her neck. Mito couldn’t figure out what his problem was – did he not think she’d be a good fit for his cousin? Or, was it possible…he didn’t approve because she was a girl? Mito couldn’t believe that was the case – Hashirama was pretty open about his bisexuality, after all, and Tobirama didn’t have a problem with him – but against all logic, Mito found she couldn’t shake the specter of doubt.

Then, three weeks into the term, Mito’s roommate came down with the flu, and Hashirama offered to let Mito crash at his place for a few days. Mito expected to be sleeping on the living room couch, but Hashirama insisted that, as the guest, she should take his bed. They compromised with Mito on an air mattress on Hashirama’s floor, and Mito spend the next couple of nights enduring his truly awful snoring. Yet again, it never occurred to Mito that this decision might have unforeseen consequences (aside from the snoring), and so, two days later, when Mito tried to join Hashirama and Madara for a study session at their local coffeeshop, she was absolutely baffled when Madara snapped his textbook shut and announced, “I’m leaving.”

“What the hell?” said Mito, watching his retreating back.

Hashirama heaved a sigh so pitiful that it reminded Mito of the way her dog would sigh if you stopped petting him for a moment. “Something’s been up with him for a while,” he said, miserably, “But it’s gotten worse all of a sudden. I have no idea what it is.”

“I mean, you probably did something to piss him off,” Mito informed him, reasonably, “But what did I do?”

Amidst this weird hostility from both Madara and Tobirama, Mito was relieved to find that Tōka, at least, was still friendly with her. That was a side benefit of crashing at Hashirama’s place – she got the chance to spend a lot of extra time with his roommate. Mito had plenty of time to work herself up to step 3 of her plan: ask Tōka on a date.

She dropped the invitation oh-so-casually, with calculated thoughtlessness; no sense making it out to be a big deal. “Want to grab a coffee with me tomorrow?”

“Sure thing,” said Tōka, barely looking up from her phone, and Mito, despite the apparent success of her invitation, felt her heart sink. That wasn’t exactly the response she’d expect from someone who’d just been asked out.

Still, she forged on: “Maybe at 4? You’re out of class by then, right?”

Tōka looked up at that, and then, to the confused delight of Mito’s heart, gave her one of her long, slow smiles. “Yep, you got it. I’ll see you then,” she said, and Mito once again began to hope.

She was thinking of that smile as she agonized over her outfit the next day – it had to be casual, ordinary, but still perfect – styled her hair extra carefully, debated over whether to wear lipstick, and finally headed to the coffeeshop exactly on time. Tōka was already there, waiting in line. Mito’s heart began to race – she called Tōka’s name, and Tōka turned around, saw her standing there –

And a look of unease passed over her face. It was just a flicker, just a moment, so that Mito could almost believe she’d imagined it; even so, Mito felt her heart drop. This wasn’t what she’d been hoping for at all. But it was too soon to back out, and so Mito pasted on a cheerful smile and went to meet her friend for coffee.

The drinks were tasty, but the conversation was stilted, awkward in a way it never had been before. Mito had been imagining taking Tōka’s hand across the table, stealing her drink, maybe even sliding into the same side of the booth – but now she could only watch as Tōka’s eyes slid past her face. Mito could only think of one explanation for this change, and it didn’t take long for her worst fears to be confirmed.

“Um, I’m really sorry for asking,” Tōka said, for once looking uncomfortable instead of self-assured, “But…is this a date?”

Oh no, thought Mito. She had no choice but to be honest – no point in lying to her friend – but this one was seriously going to hurt. “I was kind of hoping so,” she admitted, and wondered if she could make it back to her room before the tears came. "But it's fine - " her voice choked a little; she forced the words out, "If you don't like me that way - it's fine."

“Mito…” Tōka no longer looked just uncomfortable; she looked wretched, so much so that Mito was a little taken aback. She seized her short black hair in both hands and said, as if the words were torn from her: “I like you – I like you so much. You’re beautiful and smart and fucking great and I just – I don’t – why are you doing this to me?”

“What?” said Mito, startled enough to forget her impending tears. She’d been expecting Tōka to at least let her down gently.

“I thought Tobirama was insane when he said you were flirting.”

“Wh…why would that be insane?”

“Because it’s wrong,” said Tōka, with such conviction that Mito felt as though she’d been slapped. Wrong? Mito hadn’t expected to hear that here, not from her friend, not from Tōka. She felt as though her stomach was trying to climb out her throat. Had her suspicions about Tobirama been right after all?

The words came out low and angry, in a voice Mito barely recognized as her own. “What do you mean, ‘wrong’?”

“Hashirama’s my cousin,” said Tōka, anguished, “I can’t do this to him.”

Once again Mito was thrown for a loop. Why would Tōka think that Hashirama would disapprove of her dating a girl? “Hashirama’s bi,” she said, utterly confused.

Tōka leveled an accusatory look at her. “Just because he’s bi doesn’t mean he’s polyamorous.”

“Wait – what?”

“What?”

The two of them stared at each other across the table. Then, finally, the pieces began to fit together in Mito’s frazzled brain. Slowly, she asked, “Did you think I was dating Hashirama?”

Tōka’s eyes were locked on hers. “You mean…you’re not?”

“Oh my god,” said Mito. She slammed her hands on the table, startling them both, and practically shouted, “NO! No, I’m not dating him! I’m gay! GAY! One hundred percent lesbian!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Mito could see the people at the nearby tables staring at them; in front of her, Tōka covered her mouth with her hand and let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched giggle. “Okay! I get it. But…I don’t understand…”

“Did Hashirama say we were dating? If he did, I’m going to murder him.”

“No, he never told us, exactly, but like – he went out hoping to meet someone, and then suddenly you were always with him. I guess we just kind of assumed?”

“Oh my god,” said Mito again. She jabbed a finger at Tōka. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you know! I thought you were homophobic or something!”

“No, no!” said Tōka, waving her hands in front of her, “I like girls! I swear!” She planted in face in her hands and said, through her fingers, “I like you! I felt so guilty when I realized.”

Mito, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt, reached out and tugged Tōka’s hands away from her face. “You like me?”

“Yeah,” said Tōka, breathless and holding Mito’s hands, and looking at her with the same expression of disbelief and joy Mito could feel on her own face. The world spun; the only thing holding Mito to the ground was the feel of Tōka’s hands in hers, and then –

Mito suddenly had a thought. “Wait,” she said. “Who’s ‘we’?”

“Huh?”

“You said, ‘We just kind of assumed’. Who else thinks Hashirama and I are dating?”

Tōka blinked at her. “Uh, definitely Tobirama, but probably most of his friends too.”

“Holy shit,” said Mito.

[artificialqueens]

The Audit, Chapter 1 (Branjie, Scyvie, Ninex) - Phryne

She’s back back back back (quarantine back rolls)! Here’s the rewrite of The Department of Public Safety, with more jokes, more warm and fuzzy moments, and less safety. Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed!

Thank you to @janssports for being the most lovely beta and @scarletenvy for endless support!

This Chapter: There’s a new sherif in town, and she doesn’t play around (though Vanjie hopes otherwise).

***

In the simple town of Lanmore, Virginia — where the grass trimmings lay on the sidewalks until the next storm washes them away, where the sun burns heavy on every blacktop in every strip mall parking lot, where the flag blows freely and haphazardly — it is quiet.

It is all quiet until Vanjie hefts a Wal-Mart bag, filled to the brim with loose packets of SweeTarts, onto the freshly waxed conference room table. She dumps them out, all good and messy, letting them brush against A’keria and Nina’s piles of citizen suggestions, and spill off onto the floor.

And there were at least a hundred suggestions at A’keria and Nina’s end of the table, sorted haphazardly into Bad, Extra Spicy Bad, and Wrong Department piles. They pass workable suggestions directly to Silky or Vanjie to turn nonsense into gold with their keen understanding of Lanmore and its specific breed of citizen, until they spit out a new program to address the concern.  Or the suggestion goes to Scarlet, who brings it to Yvie, who then handles the issue swiftly—and loudly— like she always does.

“So you’re tellin’ me—” Silky reaches across the table and snatches a packet of candy. “That these hos found a way to snort this?” She dangles it between her well manicured nails, as though it were a little bag of dog shit found next to the trash can in Smallman Park.

“They ain’t hos, Silk. They’re like….” Licking her finger, A’keria ponders the hoes as she flips through another stack of suggestion slips rescued from their cardboard box, which lived under Scarlet’s desk, more specifically underneath Scarlet’s balled up fuzzy socks and “secret files,” which no one really wanted to investigate, lest they get trapped in Scarlet’s world by spending too much time with her thoughts. “I don’t know, like, twelve year old boys. They’re just stupid.”

Nina turns around, capping her marker. “Twelve year olds can’t be hos. They’re twelve.”

“You can be a ho and be twelve.” Another flip. A’keria crumples a suggestion slip and launches it at the Extra Spicy Bad pile, missing and hitting Scarlet’s feet.

The Extra Spicy Bad pile held all the suggestions that A’keria took great pleasure in reading out to the group during happy hour, in the traditional Monthly Suggestion Box Clean-Out fashion — in the corner booth at Chewy George’s bar, sat halfway in Silky’s lap, drunk from three blended margaritas, sticking her favorites into her bra, so she could hang them on her desk when she got back to work the next day.

Scarlet turns in her chair and snorts. “Wouldn’t you know,” she says easily, teasingly light.

“Please, you wish you were,” A’keria shoots back, half her attention still on the suggestion slip in front of her.

With a laugh, Scarlet clutches pearls she’s not even wearing. “Excuse me, I’m a lady.” She brightens, splaying out her hands on the conference table, accidentally bumping the Bad pile. “Brigid treated me to a lovely dinner and show last night, sooo. That’s lady-like shit.”

“You’re excused,” Silky adds, but not before she can join Vanjie in rolling her eyes at Scarlet’s remarks.

“She’s not a ho and neither are you, so shut up.” Yvie booms from the front office in that unmistakably Yvie way — loudly inviting herself into a conversation happening in a completely different room, which she has no part of. Such are the powers of being the director.

“Course she chimes in now.” A’keria rolls her eyes before handing Nina a suggestion. “This one’s actually good.”

Vanjie trails away from A’keria and back to the candy. She whips off her shoe, holding the orange suede pump by its blocky heel, and starts pounding the candy mercilessly, throwing her whole body into it. Once, twice, three times, before she shifts her bare foot on top of her other shoe to redistribute her weight. She continues pounding, even as Silky reaches across her to grab a packet of candy, mesmerized by how Vanjie swings her shoe with a vengeance.

She rips it open and carefully pops a SweeTart in her mouth. “So how do these kids even get to snortin’ this shit?”

“You can do anything when you’re stupid enough.” A’keria begins folding the suggestion into a paper airplane, crumpling the nose of it when it doesn’t look pointy enough.

Silky waves a SweeTart in front of Vanjie’s mouth until she opens, letting Silky place it on her tongue. “But what are they getting out of this? Is it like drugs, or…?”

“They snort it, Silk,” Vanjie switches the shoe around to pound with the heel. She gives it a good whack and looks up at Silky with wide eyes. “That’s how they get to snortin it.”

“Yeah but they snort it and then what?”

“I guess you guys better…”

Nina shoots A’keria a look and mouths do not.

“Maybe we should try it and find out?” Scarlet adds, before taking the paper airplane from A’keria, looking over her shoulder, scooting her chair out into the hallway, kicking off of the door frame, and launching herself toward Yvie’s office.

She rolls through the open door, and in one swift move, hands Yvie the airplane, captures the stack of papers Yvie’s waving with a smile, and rolls over to the photocopier next to her desk, yelling behind her, “That’s three points.” Yvie marks the tallies on a Post-It. She’ll put it into the spreadsheet later.

Nina turns back to the candy and opens her mouth. She wants to say something, but instead mashes her lips and shakes her head. Vanjie and Silky mumble “stupid kids,” and “they got nothing to do but dumb shit,” and “you’d probably try snorting candy to get out of reading Lord of the Flies too, Mary,” as they take turns pounding the candy with Vanjie’s shoe.

“I did not, Scarlet did” A’keria drawls, judging that the suggestion of “No more traffic lights. I’m sick of fines and I want to drive like a man” as stupid enough to earn its spot in the “Bad Box.” She crumples it up and tosses it away.

Nina grabs another paper, breaking into a sigh as she scans over the first line.

“Marty the Giraffe and I had a real connection. He ate leaves out of my hand. Who can I call about adopting him?” Nina reads slowly, carefully, as though the sentences were not basic, as though there must be some deeper meaning to glean from the citizen report.

“Gimme that.” Vanjie says, grasping the air until Nina scoots around the table and fits the paper between her fingers. “We’re gonna try some Rizzoli and Isles shit, Silk.”

Silky comes up from under the table, having grabbed Vanjie’s other shoe clean off her foot. She smacks the candy with the heel. “What’s Rizzoli and Isles?” She hits it again, once more, with feeling.

“Like crime ladies who investigate drugs and the one is tough and wears leather jackets and also hot and the other looks at dead people and keeps them chocolate Ho Hos in her desk.”

“Oh my god,” Yvie drawls from her office, watching as Scarlet rolls back in with the photocopies and two pink Starbursts from the candy bowl she keeps on her desk. She breaks her gaze. “None of you are hos.”

A’keria smirks and flips over her phone with a sly smile, before sliding it across the table over to Silky. “Brightness down.”

Vanjie grabs it instead, glances down for a split second, and lets the phone drop into her lap “God, my lesbian eyes.”

“I didn’t know eyes could be lesbian,” Silky mutters, snatching up the phone and turning the brightness back up. She nods, and decisively states, “ho.”

“Everything’s lesbian. That’s how it works. Head, shoulders, knees and toes, Mary,” Vanjie sings, poking Silky.

“And how is your head?” A’keria calls across the table, fishing a slip out of the box. “Nevermind I found it.”

Dropping her shoe back on the table with a clean thud, Vanjie throws herself across the table grasping for the slip.

“It says Vanjie’s tongue is so sloppy…” A’keria pauses to clear her throat.

“How sloppy is it?” Scarlet calls back

“It don’t say shit. Gimme that.” Vanjie grabs the slip and quick stuffs it down her shirt. “There, now you won’t get it.” She pushes herself up and walks back to her side of the table, looking pleased with herself.

A’keria rolls her eyes and turns to Nina. “You wanna get it?” She points at Vanjie, who is now pulling out her credit card. “I won’t even tell HR.” A’keria laughs, and Nina blushes furiously at the thought of HR, which only makes A’keria laugh harder.  

Vanjie separates the powdered candy with her credit card and turns to Silky. “We’re gonna try it, Riz.”

With a shrug, Silky pops her finger into her mouth, sticks it into the pile of candy, and then back into her mouth. “Why don’t they just eat it the regular way?” she mumbles around her finger.

“Because they’re fucking stupid,” A’keria drawls. “That’s how kids are. Fucking stupid.”

“Well, not all of them,” Nina chimes in before sliding another slip to Vanjie. “Here’s a suggestion I think you guys can do something with.”

Vanjie takes up the slip and sets it to the side before taking up the one about the giraffe, rolling it into a thin straw with precision. “Just the stupid ones.”

“Y’all are a bunch of clowns.” A’keria shakes her head as Vanjie cuts the candy into lines.

Vanjie ignores her and turns to Silky. “So, I couldn’t really understand the principal, on account of he sounded like one of those grown ups in those Peanuts cartoons, with Charlie Brown and that dog and shit. But anyway, he said he saw them snortin’ it through the milk straws during lunch period. And then that mom started goin’ off in the office about the police and Reagan and the War on Drugs, and then I stopped listenin’ so…”

“That’s fucked up,” Yvie yells, unwrapping a Starburst.

“Yes it is, Yvangeline. Yes it is,” Vanjie replies, ungrateful for Yvie’s input, before turning back to Silky. “So I take my card and make it into a thin line, like this. And now you got to get something like a dollar bill like they do in the movies or some other paper shit.”

Silky sticks the rolled up suggestion slip into Vanjie’s hand.

“So you just make a roll, and then you get one end to your nose and the other to the line and, like, you just sniff it up.” She plugs one side of her nose, imitating a sniff, but coming out more like a snorting pig on Benadryl.

Yvie glances up from her freshly printed budget papers, and flashes eyes filled with exhaustion and slight amusement toward the group in the conference room. “Guys, we really don’t need to practice snorting candy to see why it’s a problem that middle schoolers are making fake designer drugs out of candy.” She turns to Scarlet. “Hit me.”

“Another Starburst?”

“No, like with a big piece of wood, a lead pipe, your hand.” Yvie huffs, looking over the spreadsheets. “We’re fucked.”

Scarlet rests her hand over Yvie’s shoulder with a giggle. “You don’t try hard enough to be fucked.”  

Yvie lets out a tight laugh, ignoring the warmth of Scarlet’s touch and focusing again on the budgetary discretion spreadsheet.

Scarlet gives her one more pat before walking back out of the office. “Yeah guys, it’s kind of inappropriate.”

“Yeah guys, it’s kind of inappropriate,” Silky mutters into the powder, imitating Scarlet’s high-pitched whine, making Vanjie and A’keria snicker. She rolls up her own suggestion slip, presses it to her nose, and bends over the conference table.

Scarlet rolls her eyes, shoving her chair back toward her desk.

“Well, here I go.” Silky shrugs, making a sign of the cross and taking a deep breath. She holds her finger to her left nostril before shooting up at the sound of a nail tapping at the window behind her and Scarlet screaming at the sight of the blonde woman it belonged to.

The woman has her nose pressed against the window, peering in eerily, eyes wide and cold at the sight in front of her.

The air in the office sinks, quickly becoming dense and stifling. Silky releases the paper from her limp hand, A’keria drops her phone into her lap, and Scarlet’s chair slams right into her filing cabinet, knocking her pictures to the floor with a shatter.  

“What’s going on in there?” Yvie yells, standing in her door frame. Then she sees it, the scowling blond woman rounding the corner into her department.

The combination of the woman’s angrily clicking heels; Scarlet sitting in a pile of broken glass — from a picture of her and Brigid last Christmas at the city’s tree lighting — and cutting her fingers while trying to clean it up; Silky holding up Vanjie’s shoe; Vanjie bent over a table with candy “drugs” in front of her; and A’keria throwing a paper airplane that hits the newly arrived and even more agitated blonde lady in the chest; makes Yvie want to bite down on her hand until she sees blood.

She resists the urge, however, because Nina taught her that was a bad way to manage stress. So she breathes in for eight counts and out for eight more. It doesn’t work, but repeating “fucking Christ” over and over in her mind helps a little, even if it’s not a Monet Invented Nina Approved Official Stress Relief Strategy.

The woman clears her throat and picks up the airplane. She unfolds it and reads carefully, in a disinterested, even tone, “I lost my water bottle here. It is blue.”

Nina staggers out of the conference room, the rest of the team shuffling after her, still disheveled, but not more disheveled than they are on a typical Tuesday morning. “That was for our boss.”

The woman looks them over, her well groomed brows taut. “Why does your boss need to know this?” She shakes her head, as though looking over the team provided her with all she needs to know. Instead, she crumples the paper airplane, just as Vanjie begins to interject about a city-wide reusable water bottle program. “Would someone like to tell me what is going on in this department?”

Silky folds her hands. Scarlet looks between Yvie and her now bloody fingers, before getting up, wiping them on her skirt, and slotting in between Silky and Vanjie. A’keria and Vanjie exchange glances before turning to look at Yvie as well. Nina stands still, silent as possible, fiddling with the button on her cardigan, as though it were of sudden interest.

The blonde nods and follows their line of sight, heels clicking against the cracked tile floor as she strides toward Yvie’s office, coming to a firm halt in front of her. Breaking into a smirk, she runs her index finger over Yvie’s name plate.

“Director Oddly, is it?” she asks in a tone that suggests she already knows the answer, yet she accompanies the question with a tilt of her head, awaiting a response.

Yvie walks out into the department, takes one look at the scowling blonde woman, and mutters, “Oh, fuck me.” Her head pulls back and she closes her eyes, inhaling deeply for eight counts, just like Nina taught her. When she opens her eyes, all she sees is the brown water stain in the warped ceiling tiles—which Scarlet referred to as “The Amoeba” and Vanessa parodied into “Miss Amoeba Edwards, for your consideration, yass gawd.” If only she could laugh upon seeing the silly looking stain, pretend for a moment that the blonde woman and her obnoxious tone would disappear.

But when she looks forward again, she finds her still there. Yvie exhales once more for eight counts and looks at the woman squarely, sternly, her lips forming a tight line, eyes firm and unyielding.

The last time that look saw the fluorescent light of the office was July 24, 2017, at approximately 2:30 p.m., when Silky cut the office’s only AUX cord in half because she couldn’t take any more of Scarlet’s Christmas Spotify playlist, droning out “Blue Christmas” from the small speaker on the windowsill, claiming that “Christmas in July isn’t a real holiday, it’s a day for capitalists, and no, I don’t care if your girlfriend made you that playlist, I won’t listen to ‘Frosty the Snowman’ while I sweat my whole ass off.”

Scarlet bites the inside of her cheek. This is bad.

Yvie raises her gaze to meet the woman’s, grinds her teeth, and replies with a curt, “Yes.”

She extends her hand, which Yvie unceremoniously shakes, before letting them drop. “I imagine you are to be their supervisor then, and yet, they are clearly unsupervised.” The woman takes in the disarray of the office and the embarrassed expressions of the employees, and continues. “So I must ask, of course, why exactly you have one employee teaching another employee how to do drugs off of my desk, while looking at another employee’s nude pictures, while your secretary rolls back and forth between you and the conference room, creating as many safety hazards as possible in the process, just to make sure she doesn’t miss out on everyone crumpling up suggestions from concerned citizens and playing a game with our constituents’ lives.”

“I’m not a—” Scarlet begins before the woman looks at her.

“Well, technically we’re not elected,” Yvie mutters, hoping the woman might just catch it, burning for an argument strong enough to get her out of her department. “So, not constituents, per say…”

“Also, it’s not drugs, it’s candy because we got a call from Charles Middle that kids are crushing up this candy and it’s got to do with DARE and… Anyway it’s not drugs and we’re trying to figure out what’s up there,” Silky digresses.

The woman rubs between her brows, urging them to unfurrow. “No, you misunderstand me. It was a rhetorical question to emphasize that you, a group of grown adults, being paid with tax-payer money, could not possibly be allowed to supervise yourselves.”

“Well, technically, I do supervise them,” Yvie adds, again, growing more irate at this conversation.

“Please.” The woman brushes it off, “If you’re aware that your department is throwing around paper airplanes made of suggestion forms, then you’re clearly complicit in their misuse of time and resources.”

“Only the good ones become paper airplanes.” Nina shrugs. “The bad ones are crumpled, that’s how we sort.”

“You heard it, that’s how they sort.” Yvie gestures to the group before snapping, like her patience had been pulled taut for far too long.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” she says, clearly not sorry.

The woman continues, unfazed.

“So we just ignore concerns?” She looks to the ground, before crouching down to snatch up a crumpled paper. She chokes a snide laugh, unfurls it, and continues. “A slip from a concerned citizen, writing into your suggestion box. And it says.” She pauses, face twisting, eyes widening, before returning to her previously cold countenance. “It says: The Mexicans are throwing cocaine over the fence and I’m scared one of them will become strong enough to throw it into Virginia. You need to stop them.” She turns the paper over. “Sincerely, Jenny Miller.”

Vanjie grabs the slip from her hands, pouring over the words before recrumpling it and shooting the paper ball into the trash can behind Scarlet’s desk. “That’s fucking racist, Jenny.”

“Yeah, that’s fucked up,” Silky pipes up, rubbing her fingers together to get rid of the candy dust.

“Vanj is right, it’s racist, and either way, no one could throw that far, Jenny,” Scarlet drawls, bobbing her head. “We’re a hundred miles from Mexico, at least.”

The woman lets out an exasperated huff, not even touching upon the poor display of geographical awareness. It’s Virginia, for fuck’s sake. “Who’s Vanj?”

Pulling at her bottom lip with her teeth, Yvie points with her pen, releasing her lip as she replies, “The one who took the suggestion slip from you, threw it in the trash, and called Jenny a racist.” She crosses her arms. “And again, who are you?”

The woman pulls back her blazer and taps at her badge. Vanjie tries to look like she’s still offended, but it’s harder by the minute.

“My name is Brooke Lynn Hytes, and I’m your state auditor.” She fishes around in her purse, undisturbed by Yvie’s tightening glance as she scans over her employees. “And you’ve just made my job exceptionally easy.” Finding her notebook, she scans the room, recording something with a scowl before closing it up and placing it on the reception desk before Scarlet can even raise her finger in protest.

Yvie rings her hands out, fears confirmed. A’keria catches the look, and mutters her own, “Ugh, Jesus.”

“Now I was told that your conference room is the only free one within city hall, therefore it will become my office for my tenure. So I expect my office to be cleaned and sanitized.” She throws her briefcase and purse down on Scarlet’s desk, the jacket soon following, Vanjie’s gaze following the jacket and back to the woman. Again, trying to maintain her irritation.

“I would also like the department’s financial statements stacked neatly on my desk.” Brooke eyes A’keria, her confusion over where they could possibly be evident in her squinting, sideways glance.

When the office finally reaches silence, caused by Yvie and A’keria’s worried glances and increasingly raised brow at the thought of the financial statements, the two of them both acutely aware of how quickly the department was sinking into something between quicksand and shit. Shitsand.

The rest simply studied Brooke. The pressed white button down and cigarette pants. The creaseless leather pumps. The unflinching gaze.  

Of course, Vanjie breaks it.

“Uh, what’s an auditor?”

It’s ghost quiet as Yvie, from behind Brooke, drags her finger across her neck, shaking her head furiously.

Scarlet drags her foot across the cracked peach tile. “Well, an auditor is a—”

“Budget slasher,” A’keria interjects. She closes her eyes and inhales, hoping that someone will answer her prayers and make Brooke get out, and if not, will get A’keria out of here.

“Clean it. Now,” Brooke grits out before adjusting her shirt, picking an invisible piece of lint off of her and flicking it to the ground ceremoniously. “Director?”

Brooke pivots and heads straight for Yvie’s office, letting Yvie know that again, Brooke isn’t asking questions, though her intonation would suggest otherwise. Yvie follows. Brooke slams the door behind them, sits on the edge of the chair in front of Yvie’s desk, and waves her hand behind her aimlessly.

Yvie closes the blinds, leaving the team with a shaky thumbs up and a dorky smile as their only solace.

Somehow, this day of government work would be longer than all the others.

[howardpotts]

four: buy your pretty heart

Love on the Brain - Masterlist in links

Pairing: MobBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and violence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer?

Chapter warning: Uhmm none, i think. 

A/N: I haven’t uploaded in a while, but I had some unplanned hiatus. It’s just that a lot has happened privately that made me lose interest in anything. I hope this chapter is any good, since it’s been written in small pieces in the last 3 months. 

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 

You thought you were going to spend your entire day daydreaming about the night before, instead you were thinking over and over about what has happened.

Even when Wanda was gushing to you about that girl and how they spent the entire night dancing, kissing, talking - you had a hard time to keep your thoughts away and your focus on her.  She looked tired, just as you. Big bags under her eyes, hair was a little bit more fussy than normal. You tried to cover your tiredness with makeup, which was pretty well done in your opinion. 

You were grateful it was friday, meaning that you could focus on other stuff on the weekend. Take your mind of whatever happened today, trying to suppress it til monday; when Steve is going to take you out on dinner and, well, probably fuck you senseless after. 

“Lets go shopping after school”, Wanda stated. She had a date on sunday and she knew that you were going to meet with Steve on monday. You told her about yesterday night, but you didn’t dare to tell her what happened this morning. You didn’t want to get her in any kind of trouble.

“Wan, you’re a genius”, you admitted, smirking to her. She claps her hands in excitement, her golden bracelets sounding like bells, making her look even more enthusiastic. 

You slumbed out of your class, eyes a little foggy from all the staring to the screen in front of you. The teacher had you noting everything he said on your computer. It couldn’t get any more boring than it already was - and that on a friday afternoon.

“What kind of dress are you looking for?”, you asked Wanda, trying to shake away the boring class. She hooked her arm into yours as you walked through the busy hallways of the school. You both didn’t care to look who was walking around, you just wanted to get out of here and into the city, focussing on way more exciting things.

“I think something laced. Black, maybe? Or would that be a bit too tame?”, she asks you.

“Depends on the dress”, you respond. “A little bit of lace, a shape that makes your figure look like candy and it can serve you well.”

The fresh air gives you new energy when you step outside. It’s pretty cold outside, but for February, it’s actually quite nice. 

A call of your name has you looking around. Some guy approaches you. Brown hair, little bit ruffled. You have never seen him in your life. “Steve sent me. He wanted me to give you this.”

A big grin on Wanda’s face, and you fake one too. It isn’t that you don’t like Steve, but at this moment you were a little bit terrified of what could be in the package. You want to , thank the guy, but he’s already walking down the stairs, acting like he never spoke to you.

“Open it, open it!”, Wanda squeals enthusiastically. 

Your heart could jump out of your chest when your hand moves to open the package. 

There’s a little note on top of it, almost flying out of the box as the wind waves lightly in the box. You grab it quickly and turn it around. 

Wear this and nothing else. 

Wanda giggles, you blush. A little paper still hides what exactly is in the box but Wanda’s patience is wearing thin and she gets rid of it as quickly as you can blink.

There’s a black jacket in it. On the inside a label saying ‘BALMAIN’.. Wait, that’s designer right? That’s a pretty well known brand. Not that you expected Steve to get you some cheap stuff, but designer? Did he really put that much money into you or did he send this to every other girl, asking it back after wearing it once? Ew, no, he didn’t do that. That’s disgusting.

“BALMAIN?”, Wanda gasps. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Where the hell did you find this guy- Don’t answer that.” 

“That’s pretty expensive, right?”, you ask. Her eyes turn big as she watches you.

“Yes, that’s fucking expensive”, she calls, still impressed by the gift in your hands. “And we’re not talking hundreds here, darling. We’re talking thousands. Two, maybe three.”

“Thousand?”

“Thousand!” She throws her hands in the air to give the words even more of a drama effect. 

You don’t know what to say. Or do. It’s kind of overwhelming, to be honest. You’ve met the guy not even 24 hours ago, and he already gave you the responsibility to decide a man's fate and now he gave you a jacket worth thousands. You have to admit that it creeps you out. Alarm bells are going off, warning you to cut him out of your life and find a good man. One that will swoon your parents and will probably be better for you than he’ll ever be. 

But you’re flattered at the same time. Why would someone like him - a man with charm, looks, grace, money and a lot of female attention - invest money in someone like you? You’re not special in any way. You’re as average as can be. You’re a communications student, living in some apartment with two other roommates because you can’t afford to rent one for your own. You have some kind of barista job in the weekends, trying to earn enough to pay for your rent, food and some fun activities. 

“Maybe we should drop this first”, you suggest, looking at the box in your hands. 

As you walk, Wanda starts talking about her night. “She was amazing”, she sighs. “I walked up to her and straight up told her how beautiful she looked. Later on she told me she liked that directness, that no one ever does that to her.”

You’re so happy for Wanda. She’s been crushing on this girl for a few weeks now, but never acted on it. Apparently everyone thought that the girl was pretty intimidating.

“Wait, what was her name again?”, you ask, interrupting her story.

“Maria”, she answers quickly before picking up her story again. “Anyway, we started dancing, but I wasn’t sure if she was into women. So I kept my distance, and so did she, so I got more and more insecure. I looked over at you and saw you chatting with some guy. When I looked back, I saw her checking me out. And I’m not talking about girl-ready-to-bitch kind of checking, but the lesbian kind of checking.”

You chuckle. Her stories were always this over the place - but it was fun to listen to. She always knew how to keep you interested, waiting eagerly on how the story is going to end. 

“So that kind of felt like my que. Wow, I say a lot of ‘kind of’, don’t I? Anyway, I moved a bit closer, gave her my famous flirty eyes.”

You walk over a crosswalk and turn right after, only two streets away from your apartment.

“Did you kiss?”, you ask, not being able to wait anymore. You need to know.

“Oh honey, we didn’t just kiss. We made out, we did the dirty, we went down town, we-” 

“Yeah, okay, I get it”, you laugh. She chuckles and pushes you lightly when you fake roll your eyes. 

“Will you see her again?” Her eyes glow up after you ask that question. She nods furiously as she grabs her phone, showing you a few messages. Excitedly, you squeal lightly. 

“Thank you a thousand times for joining me last night”, she sighed as she hooked her arm in yours once again. A content feeling settles in you as you walk further. A few seconds of silence between the two of you. Cars pass by, people sometimes almost bump in to you as you walk further down the street. 

“And your night had to be pretty exciting as well, right?”, Wanda breaks the silence, wiggling her eyebrows. You nod, a little smirk on your lips. 

“God, it was good”, you sigh. You tell your story shortly but swiftly, letting details pass and not mentioning what happened the morning after. 

“And more than a one night stand?”, she asks you as you stand in front of your apartment door. You give her a quick look before focussing on letting yourself in. 

“I’m not sure”, you say. “I think we just want to booty call each other. And apparently giving me gifts.”

You let yourself in your room and drop the box on your bed. Again you open it, this time taking the jacket out. It turns out to be longer than you thought. He was quite serious about not wearing anything else. The jacket is long enough for you to cover up everything you want to hide from the public. But it also shows enough to seduce him. And he knows that.

“Can you please stay another hour?” Your manager, Sarah, looks at you with her big puppy eyes. “Pretty, pretty please?”

A little smirk is on your face as you roll your eyes. “What would you do without me?”, you say as you put on the brown apron again, after taking it off just a minute ago. 

“I would be homeless and a failure. Thank you a thousand times!”, she cheers as she grabs your shoulder to give it a little squish. You smile and walk back into the little cosy cafe. It was pretty crowded, with a little line of five people waiting outside to get a free table. 

Slowly you check your half of the cafe, the front half. Your colleague, Brent, watches over the other half and Sarah is behind the bar making the best coffee of the city. She owns the cafe and made it a big success, promoting her selfmade cookies and waffles as her original trademark. And it works. Whenever it isn’t busy, you make small talk with the customers and they always tell you that they’ve heard from someone else that they had to try one of her delicious cookies. 

A man puts his hand in the air, making a little gesture to come over. You put on your smile and walk over. “How can I help you?”

“Why don’t you start by giving your number?”, he smirks. “And a cappuccino.”

Your hand balls into a fist, nails digging into your flesh as you watch his smug face. He watches you. Not even your face, but your body. He checks you out. 

“Sorry sir, we’re not allowed to give out personal information to our customers”, Brent hops in from behind you. You turn your back to the customer and mouth a little ‘thank you’ to him. 

You walk towards Sarah and ask her for the cappuccino the guy asked for. As much as you’d like to not serve him his coffee, you still had to be customer-friendly. 

“Why don’t we switch sides ‘til the d-bag over there leaves this place?”, Brent asks when he stands beside you before focussing on Sarah. “Oh and a latte plus a chocolate chip cookie for table fifteen.”

You nod, a little smile appearing on your face. You couldn’t be happier with your colleagues and your boss, they were all so attentive and supportive to each other. There was this atmosphere that made you enjoy the work you were doing. You’ve worked at other places where the ambience was a little bit different. 

The cappuccino appears on the counter, not a second later it’s in Brents hands and he walks towards the guy. It wasn’t the first time someone asked for your number - and you wouldn’t be annoyed if he asked about it nicely. But the arrogance on his face and his eyes on your boobs did not make a good first impression. 

“And the latte, cookie’s coming right up”, Sarah sighs as she put down the latte. You give her a quick smile. She grabs a small white plate and puts a napkin on it first before grabbing the wobbly cookie. 

See, the thing about Sarah’s cookies was that it wasn’t just your ordinary round cookie. It was a bit thicker, but still moist from the inside. It was a little bit warm, the chocolate was on the edge of melting, and the sugar wasn’t as overwhelming as most are. The moment you had your first cookie, you fell in love. You actually had to watch yourself to not overeat, restraining yourself to one cookie a week. 

As you walk to table fifteen, you take a quick look at it already. Just swiftly taking in the customer to decide what kind of small talk you can make. Most of the time you could see it in a splitsecond; some were here just to work, some were here for some social acts, and with some you had to guess.

But this one had you by surprise. He made your breath stuck in your throat. How in the living hell did he end up here? Did he stalk you?

“One latte and a chocolate chip”, you say nervously. With a little shake, you put down the latte. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

His blue eyes meet yours, making you hot all over. You’re not sure if it’s because of the nerves, because of the things he made you feel or because of the morning you’ve witnessed at his place. 

“It’s my regular. I didn’t expect you’d work here”, he countered. You give him a little smirk as you also put down the cookie. “Did Paul give you the package?”

“Yes, he did.” You didn’t know what else to say. To say it’s beautiful? That you like it? That you’ll wear it? That’d be cheesy.

“Good. I hope to see you in it tomorrow”, he smirks as he takes a sip from his latte.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”, you tease as you turn around, moving your hips a little bit more as you walk to your next customer.

Tags: (OPEN)

@mcueveryday​ @mschellehitt​ @thamuddagirl​ @buckysthot​ @what-if-i-am-weird​ @myspectacularfantasies​ @ornella0910​ @steeeeverogers​ @babygirl-htx​ @estillion14​ @my-super-musical-life​ @tranquil--heart​ @golddaggers​ @swanlakemikey​ @notyourtypicalrose​

[longgae]

11 celebrities who've been called out for homophobic comments

This is gonna be interesting...

1. In 2020, Twitter users accused J.K. Rowling of transphobia after comments she made on Twitter. Rowling tweeted, "'People who menstruate.' I'm sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud?" Fans on social media quickly told the writer she was not being inclusive to the transgender community. Rowling backed up her statement by tweeting, "I respect every trans person's right to live any way that feels authentic and comfortable to them. I'd march with you if you were discriminated against on the basis of being trans. At the same time, my life has been shaped by being female. I do not believe it's hateful to say so." She also said, "I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he's a woman – and, as I've said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth."

2. Kevin Hart stepped down from hosting the Academy Awards after his old homophobic comments surfaced, saying, "I am evolving and want to continue to do so."

Between 2009 and 2010, Kevin Hart made insensitive jokes on Twitter and in his standup specials. For example, in one tweet, the comedian said he would break a dollhouse over his son's head if it turned out he was gay. In his 2010 special, "Seriously Funny," he reiterated the point that he would act abusively if his son was gay. "I wouldn't tell that joke today, because when I said it, the times weren't as sensitive as they are now," Hart later told Rolling Stone. "I think we love to make big deals out of things that aren't necessarily big deals, because we can. These things become public spectacles. So why set yourself up for failure?" When it was announced that Hart was going to be the host of the Oscars in 2018, his past jokes resurfaced. After backlash from the public, Hart stepped down as host. "I have made the choice to step down from hosting this year's Oscar's....this is because I do not want to be a distraction on a night that should be celebrated by so many amazing talented artists," he wrote in a tweet. "I sincerely apologize to the LGBTQ community for my insensitive words from my past … I am evolving and want to continue to do so. My goal is to bring people together not tear us apart."

3. After Paris Hilton was caught criticizing the gay community in an audio recording, she apologized, saying, "Gay people are the strongest and most inspiring people I know." In 2012, an audio recording of Paris Hilton in a taxi cab was leaked. According to reports, she was in the car with a gay man who was showing her the gay dating app, Grindr. In the audio, you can hear Hilton say, "Gay guys are the horniest people in the world. They're disgusting. Dude, most of them probably have AIDS. ... I would be so scared if I were a gay guy. You'll like, die of AIDS." Her publicist confirmed that the recording was in fact Hilton but emphasized the socialite was not homophobic. (Are they sure about this? God...) In an apology statement, Hilton said, "I am so sorry and so upset that I caused pain to my gay friends, fans, and their families. Gay people are the strongest and most inspiring people I know."

4. After a member of the audience called out Tracy Morgan for his homophobic remarks during a standup set, the comedian apologized. In 2011, a man chronicled Tracy Morgan's standup set in Nashville on Facebook. In the post, the man said Morgan said being gay is a choice because "God makes no mistakes." The comedian also allegedly said he would stab his son if he came out as gay. (Kevin Hart, you here?) After backlash and a half-hearted apology on "Late Show with David Letterman," Morgan issued an official apology. "I want to apologize to my fans and the gay & lesbian community for my choice of words at my recent stand-up act in Nashville," he said. "I'm not a hateful person and don't condone any kind of violence against others. While I am an equal opportunity jokester, and my friends know what is in my heart, even in a comedy club this clearly went too far and was not funny in any context." (Good sir. There is more to LGBTQ+ then just gays and lesbians)

5. Sarah Silverman used a gay slur in a 2010 tweet. When asked about it in 2018, she said, "I'm certainly creative enough to think of other words besides that that don't hurt people." In 2010, Sarah Silverman tweeted, "I don't mean this in a hateful way but the new bachelorette's a f-----." Although the tweet went relatively unnoticed at the time, it picked up momentum again in 2018 when people pointed out that it was unfair for Kevin Hart to step down from hosting the Oscars for doing something similar. "Yea, I'm done with that," Silverman told TMZ when she was asked about it in 2018. "I think I can find other ways to be funny. I used to say 'gay' all the time like, 'That's so gay!' Because we're from Boston. We'd go, 'That's what you say in Boston. I have gay friends. I just say gay.' Then I heard myself, and I realized I was like the guy who'd say, 'What? I say colored. I have colored friends.' I realized it's stupid, and I'm certainly creative enough to think of other words besides that that don't hurt people. But I fuck up all the time."

6. Eminem has been criticized for using gay slurs in his songs, but he insists he isn't homophobic. In 2018, Eminem released his album, "Kamikaze." In one song titled "The Fall," he focuses on fellow rapper Tyler, The Creator. In the song, Eminem raps," "Tyler create nothin', I see why you called yourself a f----t, bitch." This wasn't the first time rapper had been criticized for using a gay slut. Throughout his career, he has used similar words in his songs and received a lot of criticism for it. Eminem, however, insists he is not homophobic. "The honest-to-God truth is that none of that matters to me: I have no issue with someone's sexuality, religion, race, none of that," the rapper told Vulture. "Anyone who's followed my music knows I'm against bullies — that's why I hate that f---ing bully Trump — and I hate the idea that a kid who's gay might get s--- for it."

7. Mel Gibson mocked how gay men act in the early '90s. While doing an interview in 2001 for Spanish newspaper El Pais, Gibson said, "With this look, who's going to think I'm gay? I don't lend myself to that type of confusion. Do I look like a homosexual? Do I talk like them? Do I move like them?" Throughout the '90s, GLAAD protested Gibson's films, but the actor refused to apologize. "I'll apologize when hell freeze over," he said. "They can f--- off."

8. Alec Baldwin went on a homophobic Twitter rant against a reporter he did not agree with. He later said his remarks were "in no way was the result of homophobia." In 2013, Daily Mail reporter George Stark wrote a story accusing Alec Baldwin's wife, Hilaria, of tweeting at James Gandolfini's funeral. Baldwin took to Twitter to express his anger at Stark, calling the reporter a "toxic little queen," among other comments. In an interview with the Gothamist after the incident, Baldwin stood by his decision to call the reporter a "queen." "The idea of me calling this guy a 'queen' and that being something that people thought is homophobic … a queen to me has a different meaning. It's somebody who's just above," he told the publication. "It doesn't have any necessarily sexual connotations," Baldwin said. "To me a queen ... I know women that act queeny, I know men that are straight that act queeny, and I know gay men that act queeny. It doesn't have to be a definite sexual connotation or a homophobic connotation." He later issued an official apology, according to The Hollywood Reporter. "My anger was directed at Mr. Stark for blatantly lying and disseminating libelous information about my wife and her conduct at our friend's funeral service. As someone who fights against homophobia, I apologize," Baldwin said. "I would not advocate violence against someone for being gay, and I hope that my friends at GLAAD and the gay community understand that my attack on Mr. Stark in no way was the result of homophobia."

9. Chris Brown also used homophobic language (no shockers there) when talking about another rapper, but he later said, "I love all my gay fans." In 2010, rapper Raz provoked Chris Brown when he tweeted about Brown's past assault on Rihanna. Brown responded by attacking Raz on Twitter, referencing the fact that Raz was molested by another man as a child and calling him a "#homothug." "I'm not homophobic! He's just disrespectful," Brown tweeted later. "BTW…I love all my gay fans and this immature act is not targeted at you!!!! Love."

10. Azealia Banks has a long history of problematic comments, but she has since said she will no longer use gay slurs. In 2015, singer Azealia Banks was caught on camera yelling at a flight attendant after getting into a fight with a fellow passenger. In the video, you can hear Banks call the flight attendant a gay slur, according to HuffPost.She later tweeted about the incident, writing, "I don't care. I've said it before and I'll say it again."Banks' history with the word doesn't stop there. In 2016, she used the word to attack fellow singer Zayn Malik on Twitter, leading to the deactivation of her account. She has also called the LGBTQ community "the gay white KKK. Get some pink hoods and unicorns and rally down rodeo drive."In 2016, however, she announced she is never using the gay slur again. "The amount of people that get hurt when I use the word vs. the amount of people I've said it to are just not worth it," she wrote on Facebook. "Honestly... This isn't a cop-out, it's just me realizing that words hurt. and while I may be immune to every word and be thicker skinned than most, it doesn't mean that I get to go around treating people with the same toughness that made my skin so thick."

11. Drake Bell received backlash after posting a transphobic tweet. He later called the remarks "thoughtless." When Caitlin Jenner came out as transgender in 2015, Nickelodeon actor and singer Drake Bell tweeted, "Sorry...still calling you Bruce." After receiving backlash, he deleted the tweet and then posted another, misgendering Jenner. "I'm not dissing him! I just don't want to forget his legacy! He is the greatest athlete of all time," Bell tweeted. "Chill out!" After that, he tweeted out an apology. "I sincerely apologize for my thoughtless insensitive remarks," Bell wrote. "I in no way meant to hurt or demean those going through a similar journey. Although my comments were made in innocence, I deeply regret the negative effect they've had on so many."

Here are some tweets that were mentioned earlier (I couldn't find all of them)

So... yeah

[holylulusworld]

I don’t like you but stay

Summary: James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the newest addition to the Avengers. Trying to help his friend settle in Steve asks his friend and the teams moral support to help him with unknown consequences.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader, Steve x Reader (platonic), Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being a douche, arguments, fights, violence, angry Bucky, tension, possessive Bucky

Takes place after Endgame. Everyone is happy and alive. No one got hurt...

“You could at least try, Buck.” Steve tries once again.

“They don’t like me and I’m not a team player…not for a long time.”

“But Sam helped us back then, just like Wanda and Clint. We fought together against Thanos, it’s only one dinner. Come with me and eat with the team. Y/N will be there too. You know, my best friend.”

“A doll is your best friend now, huh?”

“She’s not a doll, more like our moral support. Y/N listens to us after a hard mission or if we have problems.”

“A goddamn psychologist or more therapist? No way I let her rummaging in my brain. I’ve got enough of people trying to trick my mind or manipulate me, Stevie.”

“Buck, calm down. She doesn’t want to manipulate you in any way. She’s a friend and I want you to visit her once a week. That’s an order Sergeant.” Steve says full Captain now.

“Fine, Captain. But I will not talk to that woman.”

“Then go to her and just sit in her chair but you will visit her.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

----

“How is Steve’s friend?” You ask.

“Unfriendly.” Nat chuckles. “Ruined my bikini figure by shooting me.”

“That was years ago, and he wasn’t himself.” Bruce throws in.

“Says the guy with the temper problems.” Sam chuckles.

“Guys, I wanted to know how he is now. Not his time during the Hydra crap. It’s awful this happened to him.”

“Honestly we do not know much about him, except he’s a great fighter and Cap’s friend. I mean he’s not hanging out with us at all. Always stays in his room or trains with Cap.” Sam says, and you nod.

“Thought so. That’s the reason Steve asked me for advice. Jesus this will be a hard piece of work.”

“He’s not a bad man. I could read his emotions and he’s torn and hurt.” Wanda says.

“I guess so. After all, he’s been through. I mean being a puppet to someone must be awful. Waking up and everything you know and love is gone is the worst.” You whisper. Lost in thoughts you barely recognize the man standing behind your back.

“The puppet just arrived.” Bucky spats and you sigh.

“Be nice, Buck,” Steve warns.

“Why? She called me a puppet.”

“I said that being a puppet must’ve been awful. I showed compassion.” You say turning around to face Steve’s friend.

Angry blue eyes stare back at you. You never saw more beautiful eyes at a man. Steve has blue eyes too, but this man is beating him without any effort. The soft brown hair frames his handsome face and you can’t stop looking at his lips.

“Got nothing else to justify your speech?” Bucky mutters.

“Hell, I didn’t hold a speech. I…forget it. I’m sorry if you got it wrong. I was just asking how you are doing. Hi, I’m Y/N, a friend of Steve.”

“A therapist without any compassion.” The blue-eyed man snaps at you and anger is boiling up inside of you. Seeing you rolling your shoulders and your body go stiff Steve plants a hand on your shoulder.

“Just breathe…he didn’t mean it that way. You know you can’t…not yet.” Steve says and you narrow your eyes.

“Fine by me, let’s eat then. Wanda and I cooked for all of you. Including our new member.” You say and Bucky scoffs.

“Won’t eat a bite of anything that doll cooked.”

“Then starve to death, Jamesy.” You chuckle.

----

Around one week later…first appointment…

“Why is there no chair or stuff…only a couch?”

“I like to get comfortable while talking to people. I’m not your therapist. We are not in my office this is my room. I invited you to talk to me, but you don’t have to. There are books and newspapers.” You say to lighten the mood.

“I won’t talk to you doll, no matter which kind of trick you will use.”

“I will not force you to anything, James. If you just want to sit over there it’s fine by me. I’ll answer some emails and stuff then.” You say opening your laptop. Seeing you and Steve as your wallpaper Bucky narrows his eyes.

“Are you fucking Stevie?” He mutters.

“Steve and I are only friends. There’s no physical attraction between us.”

“Lesbian or blind?”

“Huh?”

“Have you seen Steve? He’s Captain America.”

“I know that Steve is very attractive and most of the woman want a physical relationship with him too, but like Wanda and Nat, I’m not into him that way. We are friends since he came back. I helped him find a way to live in this for him new world. I would never risk our friendship for sex.”

“So, you would fuck him?”

“I do not like the word fuck…James. I’m not someone who has one-night stands.”

“Prude then?” He asks again.

“Neither prude nor a whore. Are we done talking about me and my sex life? Steve and I are friends. He’s into someone else, by the way, so if you want to talk about something start with your life.” You grunt.

“I like sex, I’m not prude.” James chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. I get it.”

----

“Anything? Did he open up?” Steve asks.

“If you mean asking me about you and me and if we fuck, then yes, Steve. He opened up.” You mutter.

“Seriously? He asked if we…uh.”

“I told him we do not have sex. Don’t worry. Also, I told him I don’t like the word fuck.”

“Same.” Your friend stammers shaking his head. “Why did he ask you?”

“Saw the wallpaper on my laptop.”

“I see.”

----

Three weeks, James. If you do not want to talk about anything it’s fine by me. I’ll call Steve and tell him you are…whatever.” You groan while Bucky continues throwing knives at your books.

“Can you stop this? These books are rare. First editions. Stop ruining my books.” You yell now and Bucky starts grinning.

“That so? Do not look rare to me. Just old paper, doll.”

“If you throw one more knife at my books I’ll call Steve right now and tell him you can not attend any mission for the next months. How does that sound to you Bucky?” You mutter and he narrows his eyes. Searching your face, he licks his lips and throws a knife into the nearby wall.

“What the fuck!” You yell.

“Ah, you said fuck, doll.” Bucky teases and you want to strangle him.

“You threw a knife into my wall, you idiot! I can’t believe I promised Steve to help you. What a waste of time and energy. Could have good sex right now instead I’m trapped in this nightmare.” You groan falling onto the couch.

“Good sex? You…seriously.”

“As if you would know how to satisfy a woman.”

“I know how to fuck a girl to make her scream, doll!”

“Sure. That’s the reason you are hiding in your room since you came here. Just like in Wakanda you stay to yourself. No visitors or friends come around. You are one poor and lonely boy trying to get Steve’s attention.”

“I don’t need to listen to your stupid babbling,” Bucky yells storming out of the office.

“Finally, a reaction. I can work with that.” You say to yourself.

----

“How long do I have to come here.” He groans after two minutes.

“Until Steve says otherwise, or we killed each other.” You retort too tired to fight today.

Closing your eyes, you try to ignore the man staring at you. You can’t see it, but his blue eyes are searching your face.

“Why are you so silent today?”

“None of your concern.” You sigh.

“Tell me and I’ll tell you something too.”

“I do not trust you.”

“Pinky promise.”

“Fine, I was seeing this guy for some weeks. We had a few dates and I started liking him.”

“Was the sex bad?”

“Dunno. We didn’t have sex so far. I was busy with my job, the Avengers…you. I haven’t seen him for two weeks, so I called him and he acted like he’s busy. What he didn’t know was that I was in front of his house. I wanted to surprise him and then…”

“Then what doll? Don’t hook me on a story and don’t continue it.” Bucky mutters.

“I saw him with the waitress of the restaurant we were eating at during our last date. He almost choked on her tongue. Grabbed her ass and more.”

“So, he had fun. What’s the problem?”

“Only a guy can ask you something like that. I started liking him. If a woman does like you she imagines things…a future with you. We don’t see just a potential sex partner. We see marriage, children, a home…”

“Sex?”

“Yeah, dammit, Barnes, sex too. But first of all, I thought he likes me but obviously, he did not. He was just another asshole trying to get in my pants. Satisfied?”

“Hmm…” Angrily clenching his jaw Bucky decides to pay your friend a visit.

“Will you tell me something now?” You ask.

“I ate pancakes and strawberries for breakfast.” Bucky chuckles and your eyes widen.

“I can’t believe I opened up to you only for you to make fun of me.” You yell. This time you are the one storming out of the room.

----

“This won’t work Steve. I’m trying to make him open up for six months now and honestly, I’m done. He’s making fun of me. Lies…”

“Lies?” Steve asks.

“He made a pinky promise if I tell him something personal he will do so too. I told him, but he didn’t keep his promise. Told me what he ate for breakfast. I’m done, Steve. Let him go on missions or not. I really don’t care. You know him better than I do…I just can’t do this any longer. I’m sorry for letting you down.” You sigh.

Moving his arms around you Steve gently plants a kiss to your hair. What you both can’t see is the angry look on Bucky’s face and the jealousy welling up his stomach.

----

The next sessions Bucky never shows up, so you decide to tell Steve you did your best. After the little breakdown, you promised to give his friend another chance but obviously, he doesn’t want it.

Leaving the room to finally meet up with Nat to go on a shopping trip you bump into Bruce staring at you with wide eyes.

“You okay? Do you need my help, Bruce?”

“I think James needs your help. His hand is bloody, and he doesn’t want to tell me why he’s injured. Looks like he hit someone, but he refuses to talk to me.”

“Okay. Calm down, breathe.”

“I’m not going to ‘hulk around’ right now. I’m just worried about Steve’s friend. I would’ve asked Cap but he’s away.”

“On a mission with Tony and Clint, I know. Let’s go then.”

----

“Will you tell me why your hand is bloody and your knuckles almost broken?” You ask.

“…”

Sighing you shake your head. He even refused to let anyone clean the wounds.

“Listen I know you don’t like me.”

Not answering Bucky stares at the wall beind you.

“Dammit, you are so frustrating. Steve had to soothe me after our last session. Cap had to hug me to calm me down, idiot!” You mutter and Bucky’s face lits up.

“I had to hit someone.” He mumbles finally letting you clean the wound.

“Why? Was someone else in danger?”

“He hurt a woman and I had to defend her.”

“Oh, then it was justified, I guess.” You say gently putting some sanitizer onto his wounds.

“Hmmm…I’m sorry I did not come to our session. I had to take care of that guy first.”

“It’s okay. I can throw knives at my books on my own.” You tease and he smiles at you for a moment.

“I can do this for you. Bet you can’t even hit the right target.”

“Maybe…or maybe I’m a master…”

----

“He did what?” You gasp.

“I’m sorry to tell you but it seems like Bucky beat your friend into a pulp,” Sam says.

“Why should he do such a thing? I never even told him anything about Matthew. God, did his wife see this? Was she there too?”

“No, luckily we came just in time and thanks to Starks technology we could fix what Bucky broke. Why is he going after your friends?”

“I think he hates me and tries to hurt me that way, Sam. This ends now. No matter what Steve told me I will make Bucky pay for this. Friend of Steve or not I will mop the floor with the Winter Soldier right now.” You yell storming toward the training hall.

Bursting through the door you see Bucky’s surprised face a smile on his lips he walks toward you but the moment he approachs you he feels his body gets slammed into the nearby wall.

“You think you can do this and believe I will not hurt you!” You yell.

“I got no clue what you are talking about.”

“No clue? You almost killed my friend!”

“A worthless piece of shit!” Bucky talks back.

Using your powers, you slam him into the ceiling and then down on the floor. Groaning in pain he can see you start feeling dizzy. Steve was right. It’s too soon to use your powers again.

“I swear I will break your neck stupid bitch!” Bucky yells.

“Do it! Steve will be very happy after you killed his best friend, asshole!”

“I’m his best friend!”

“Forget it! You tried to kill him, you psychopath. Crazy piece of a man, not even able to control his emotions. I’m done…I’m just done with trying to help you for Steve’s sake. Fuck you, Bucky Barnes. Go to hell or back to Hydra. I don’t care!” You yell and for the first time, Bucky flinches at your words.

Tears stream down your face and you need to brace yourself against a wall to not break down. Before you can react an impact next to you make you scream.

“You won’t just leave! I’m not done with you! I don’t like you…but stay…” Bucky pants removing his metal hand out of the wall.

“Why? You tried to kill my friend! He never did anything wrong. His pregnant wife was in his house. Would you have attacked her too?” You sniff and his eyes widen.

“Wife? You said he cheated on you with a waitress.” Bucky gasps.

“Waitress? I don’t…wait…did you believe Matthew was the one cheating on me?”

“Yeah…he was not?”

“No, Matthew is my cousin's husband. One of my best friends since college.”

“God…then I was wrong. I wanted to punish him for hurting you…”

“Why would you do that?” You ask feeling even dizzier.

“I…”

“I think I need to sit down…” You whisper.

Scooping you into his arms Bucky picks you up to run with you toward Bruce’s lab. Someone has to help him...

----

“You see she’s like Wanda but at the same time different. Using her powers means using life energy. She drains her own energy out to perform her powers. I told her she’s too weak by now. The fight with Thanos got her good. Y/N was defending Vision with Wanda and almost died.” Steve explains looking at your unconscious form.

“She’s an Avenger too?” Bucky asks.

“Kinda…more into defending an injured team member and stuff. She uses a shield to protect us if needed. Y/N barely attacks. It’s just not her style.”

“But she attacked me…really good. A hell of a woman.” Bucky says.

“Ask her out, Buck. Man up and tell her how you feel. Watching you pining is kinda sad.” Steve says knocking Bucky on his shoulder.

----

“Hey, doll. Don’t move too much. You really shouldn’t have attacked me.” Bucky says gently holding your hand.

“What happened?”

“You were unconscious and I brought you to Bruce.”

“Oh, Steve was right. I wasn’t ready to use my powers yet.”

“I’m sorry for hurting your friend. I was wrong…uh…I just tried to punish that guy.”

“You don’t have to punish anyone for me, James.”

“But I want to…I don’t like you but…stay. Please stay with me. Don’t leave me too.” Bucky says kissing your hand softly.

“Bucky?”

“I want…I need…I like you. Would you go out with me?”

“Seriously?”

“You don’t want to?” He sighs.

“I mean you need six months to ask me out? Do you need that long to get me into your bed too?”

Eyes darkened Bucky grins down at you. Covering your body with his he presses you into the mattress.

“No.” He rasps before kissing you breathless.

“Fuck. I like you too…but you will have to tell Steve you stole his best friends heart.” You tease.

“I’m his best friend and he knows you stole mine.” Bucky retorts.

“That’s not true! I’m his best friend.”

“Woman don’t make me mad! I don’t like you but I will make you stay…and I’m Stevie’s best friend.”

“In your dreams…now kiss me again and we ask Steve.”

“Those are the most useful words ever leaving your lips, doll,” Bucky mutters claiming your lips once again.

----

“Fucking finally,” Nat groans dragging Steve out of your room.

“They were fighting over me.”

“No, they are fighting to turn each other on. You really don’t want to see what happens next.” Nat chuckles when you and Bucky start moaning.

“I guess you are right. I like them both but I will not stay…”

[alarawriting]

Writeober 13 - Rose

The first of her old group that Sandy ran into was Aliyah, looking every bit as gorgeous as she used to back when they were all in high school. “Sandy!” Aliyah hugged her. “Girlfriend, you look fantastic!”

“You liar,” Sandy said affectionately. She was forty pounds heavier than she’d been in high school, and the stress of motherhood and scrambling to make ends meet had taken its toll on her face, and she knew it. But that was Aliyah for you. The most beautiful girl in the entire school, and she always had a kind word or an encouragement for everyone else she met. Aliyah was older now, but no less beautiful – possibly moreso, in fact, because she’d grown into confidence and power. Her skin was darker than Sandy’s, but perfect and smooth, while Sandy’s brown face had never entirely grown out of its teenage habit of developing pimples, nor of showing blemishes where the pimples used to be. And her clothes, of course, were fashionable and fit her like they were tailored, whereas the dress Sandy was wearing came off the rack at Target and fit like a gunnysack.

None of that mattered. Sandy had worshiped Aliyah as a kid, had wanted to be her… up until the revelations of their senior year, when she’d learned the price Aliyah had paid for money and beauty. They’d been in touch periodically ever since; neither of them had much time to meet in person, but Aliyah desperately needed a confidante she could call and talk to, or email with, who didn’t care about her money or fame, and Sandy felt honored to be that friend.

“Who all’s here?” Sandy asked.

“I’ve seen Gwen and Tulsi—”

“Gwen?”

“Harriet used to call her Gun, remember? Red Sky.”

“Oh, that’s right. Glad she made it. What about Susan?”

“I think she’s coming,” Aliyah said. “She was on the planning committee with me. But I haven’t seen her yet. And I haven’t seen Harriet.”

“I’m going to circulate around a while, see if I can find any of them,” Sandy said.

“You should try the fondue fountain, it is to die for,” Aliyah said.

Sandy laughed. “Some of us poor mortal girls have to watch our weight.”

“Oh, don’t even. You’ve had two kids, you’ve got a mortgage to pay, your job has you sit at a desk all day – you are in fantastic shape for someone who’s done everything you have and works as hard as you do. You deserve a chocolate strawberry or two.”

“Thanks,” Sandy said, “maybe I will.”

“I mean it, Sandy. You see me looking like this, but looking like this is my job. I have personal trainers, I have nutritionists, I’ve got a whole gym in my house. And what do I do? I’m an actress. I like to think I bring joy to people’s lives, but I don’t have any children, and you fight health insurance companies to make sure your doctors get paid and your patients don’t get screwed, and that is so important in this day and age. You’ve made two humans and you work your ass off to give them good lives and raise them up right. You are the one of us who’s still a hero, Sandy, I’m just the one who was lucky enough to have rich parents.”

“I remember you telling me about your parents, Ali. I don’t think you were lucky.”

Aliyah smiled wistfully. “Yeah, no, you’re right about that part of it. I just don’t want you being down on yourself because you gained weight, girl. Nobody gets out of high school without getting bigger. It’s natural. The only reason people think thin is beautiful is the beauty industry trying to sell them garbage.”

“Didn’t you do a makeup commercial a few years ago?”

Aliyah laughed. “I did! Beauty products are garbage, but as long as women are going to buy them, I want them to see glamorous black women wearing product that makes our skin look spectacular. You know?”

“I do,” Sandy said. “I – oh. Is that Red Sky with that little girl on her shoulders?”

Aliyah turned and looked. “That’s her. Why don’t you go talk to her? I’m going to look for Susan.”

“Good luck,” Sandy said, and went over to greet her former comrade.

Red Sky – Gwen, who almost never went by that – was tall. Sandy remembered her being tall, but wow, she must have kept growing out of high school. Her red hair was still cut short, military-style, but she was wearing a dress, which had to be the first time Sandy had ever seen her in one. The dress showed off her biceps, which had been amazing back then and still were, and she had a small girl around five or six, pale-skinned with curly black hair, riding her piggyback style. She waved cheerily at Sandy as soon as she saw her. “Hey there! Sandy! How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, pretty good,” Sandy said. “That your little girl?”

“She sure is! Ginny, say hi to my friend Sandy.”

“Hi!” Ginny waved. “Are you friends with both my mommies?”

“I don’t know who your other mommy is,” Sandy said.

“Sure you do,” Gwen said. “It’s Harriet.”

That stopped Sandy dead for a moment. “Harriet. As in Black Rose.”

“Yup.”

“As in the girl you said you totally hated.” She was censoring that for Ginny’s sake; there had generally been a few f-bombs thrown into that statement when Gwen had made it, back then.

“Sure did.”

“As in the girl who bullied you all through elementary, middle, and high school.”

“To be fair, I gave as good as I got.”

“The one you said you wanted to join the army to get away from. That Harriet.”

“Yup, that’s the one.” Gwen laughed. “Turns out we didn’t really hate each other after all. She was just the most repressed lesbian ever and I was… well, I wasn’t repressed, but all the stuff I did to annoy her because I thought I hated her, turns out there was another reason for that.”

“Wow.” Sandy shook her head. “Amazing.”

“I have Mommy Harriet’s genes,” Ginny said, which seemed to Sandy like a very strange topic of conversation for a six year old to bring up. “But I grew in Mommy Gunnie’s tummy.”

“You know about genes?”

“She’s Harriet’s kid,” Gwen said. “Of course she knows about genes. Don’t you, cookie?”

“Genes are why we are what we are,” Ginny said. “We get them from mommies and daddies. My daddy doesn’t live with us but he was very smart and so Mommy Harriet picked him for his genes so I could be smart and he said yes.”

“Paul,” Gwen said before Sandy could ask.

“Oh. Makes sense.” Paul hadn’t been a member of their group, but he’d known about them, and he’d been close friends with Tulsi and Harriet, and he’d helped them out on numerous occasions. While Harriet had been bizarrely obsessed with human biology, and Tulsi had been an all-around genius who was just good at every academic subject ever, Paul had had a penchant for engineering and computers.

“You know if Susan’s here?” Gwen asked.

“Aliyah thinks she’s probably around here somewhere. She was on the planning committee. Is Harriet here?”

“She said she was gonna be—” The door to the school gym opened, and a short, pale woman with black curly hair, wearing an open black coat, a black velvet dress, black nylons, and a necklace made of bits of polished white something that Sandy would bet were animal bones, stalked in. “—late,” Gwen finished. “Hey! Harriet!”

Harriet did not look up, or at anyone in the room. She just power-walked over to Gwen, head partially down but eyes pointed straight ahead and glowering. “Green Vine,” she said to Sandy. “Everyone’s here. Gather them up and meet me in the old senior lounge.”

“What’s going on?” Gwen asked.

“They’re back, Gun.” Now Harriet looked up, meeting her wife’s eyes high above her own. “I’m not here as Harriet Nonasky. I’m here as Black Rose. The Guardians need to gather again.”

“Fuck!” Gwen said. “Harriet… we’ve got Ginny here! We can’t go anywhere without finding her a sitter!”

“What about Daddy Paul?” Ginny suggested.

“And I’ve got kids back home,” Sandy said. “They’ve got a sitter, and they’ve got their dad when he gets home later tonight, but neither the sitter nor my husband are expecting me to… what? What are we even doing? I can’t fit in my Green Vine costume anymore! I don’t think any of us could!”

“Harriet can,” Gwen said. “I’ve seen her wear the Black Rose costume at home. She still fits in it.”

“Forget costumes,” Harriet said. “I got Paul for Ginny, and he said he’d find help for Sandy’s and Susan’s kids. Where’s Susan?”

“No one’s seen her yet,” Gwen said.

Harriet closed her eyes. She’d ladled on a good bit of black eyeshadow on top of her black mascara, and thick white foundation everywhere else, so when she closed her eyes they looked almost like shadowy holes in her face. “We need to find her. Now. Because they might have gotten her.”

“I’ll tell Aliyah,” Sandy said. “And whoever finds Tulsi first, let her know.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve got a minivan now, so… if y’all want me to, I can be the driver again.”

“That might be the way things go,” Harriet said. “Gun, give me Ginny. Paul’s out in the parking lot waiting for her.”

“I – all right.” She set her daughter down on the floor. “You gonna be good for Daddy Paul?”

“Uh-huh. Are you gonna go be superheroes, Mommy Gunnie?”

“We sure might,” Gwen said. “Harriet, tell him thanks for me.”

“Right,” Harriet said. “Ginny, come on.”

“Is this really happening?” Sandy asked rhetorically, shaking her head. She turned around and searched the room for Aliyah. Or Tulsi. Or Susan. Especially Susan. She saw Aliyah, and she saw Tulsi… but no sign of White Fox.

“Red Sky, Blue Sea’s over by the girls’ locker room. You go talk to her. I’ll tell Golden Sun.” Blue Sea was Tulsi, and Golden Sun was Aliyah.

“I thought we killed those bastards extra dead,” Gwen said. “Goddamn.”

“Me too.”

Gwen shrugged. “Oh well. I gotta say, I won’t cry if I’ve gotta killinate them some more. Let’s find the others and then meet up with Harriet, and hopefully she’ll actually tell us what the hell is going on.”

“You’re optimistic. She never did before,” Sandy said.

“I’m married to her. She’s mellowed out. Some. Trust me.”

[akjensen-writes]

holdin’ out for a hero

short story - wlw [Whitney/Taylor]

TW - suicide idealization (brief)

“That’ll be 13.95.” 

Taylor says it automatically, feeling more like a robot than a person. She waits patiently as the customer across the counter inserts their card into the reader. It buzzes several times before the card is removed. She glances at her watch as discreetly as possible. Her red cashier’s vest reads ‘I dig Mr. Pig’ and if that isn’t bad enough, she’s got another three hours left until the end of her shift. An end that can’t come soon enough, for so many more reasons than sheer boredom.

Thursday nights at the Piggly Wiggly, aka the Pig -- pronounced “the Peeg” from the heavy accents of the locals -- are never very busy. They carry the same droning, languid feeling that Taylor can hear coming from her own voice, and she spends more time staring at the clock and contemplating her own existence than actually doing anything.

She’s been here for four years, which is approximately three and a half too many, with no escape plan in sight. The pay is dismal, but it’s a job, and in a small southern town, that’s really all she can ask for. But she’s trapped, and every day the walls seem to close in on her a little more. If this is the best she can do, then she isn’t sure what the point is anymore. 

Chris, the cashier in the next lane, methodically swipes product across his counter with mind-numbing precision. Cereal, beep. Bananas, beep. Eggs, beep. All in a steady, even rhythm. Boring, beep. Useless, beep. Taylor taps her fingers on the counter. The same ‘80’s mix of songs rotates over and over again on the dated speakers. She wonders how many times she’s listened to it all the way through at this point. A thousand, maybe. She knows she can recite every track, sing every lyric, and that in and of itself is nothing to be proud of. 

Bonnie Tyler’s rasping voice cuts into the silence. I’m holdin’ out for a hero ‘til the end of the night. 

“Aren’t we all, Bonnie?” Taylor mutters to herself. “Aren’t we all?”

Tonight is the night, she thinks, as she plasters a smile on her face and hands the change over to her customer. Her lane is once again empty. The fluorescent lights buzz above her as she stares into space. Tonight is her last shift, for good. Tonight is her last anything. She’s going nowhere, and doesn’t even have the energy to care about it anymore. It’s not like it would matter. She could disappear off the face of the Earth and she doubts anyone would so much as blink.

It isn’t sadness, really. It’s just nothing. Deep, dark, nothing.

“Hey Taylor, I’m headin’ out.” Derek, the weekday manager talks as he’s coming around the corner. He always does that. He starts his sentences while he’s at odd places in the store, appearing just as his thought trails off. His beady little eyes dart around nervously as he glances at her register. It’s a silent reminder to thoroughly count the money before she turns over the key. He’s nice enough, Taylor thinks, even if all he does is sit in the back room and watch reruns of old ‘90’s cartoons. Nice enough is all it takes in this town, apparently. But a small pang of sadness hits her in the chest as she thinks about the fact that she’s never going to see him again. 

“Have a great night,” Taylor says, nodding at him, trying to commit his squirrely features to memory. He has a small chin and scruffs of facial hair that he only keeps to look older than he really is. These are the two distinguishing features that stand out as somewhat noteworthy. In that moment, she feels sorry for him. “Thanks for everything, Derek.” 

She feels weirdly nostalgic, nudged on by the anticipation of tonight being the end of everything. Derek has done exactly nothing for her, except leave her alone, which she supposes is something to be thankful for. He narrows his eyes in suspicion as he looks her over. 

“Uh, sure,” he replies, frowning. “Just don’t forget to lock up, okay?”

It’s such a trivial request, but it fits, somehow. Don’t forget to lock up. Don’t make a mess. Just get it over with quickly and be done, will you? We don’t have any time for this. 

Taylor almost smiles. 

The sound of a throat clearing breaks the moment. She turns her attention back to her line. JenandJudy are standing there, wearing identical flannel shirts, staring at her with sweet, expectant smiles.

“How’s it goin’?” they ask, together in perfect unison. Taylor nods at them and starts scanning their items. A case of beer, and a bottle of whiskey. They’re probably going to the woods for a bonfire. 

They all went to high school together, and at one point, Taylor assumes Jen and Judy were separate entities. But for as long as she can remember they’ve been together, their names a one word anomaly. JenandJudy. They’re the kind of lesbians that have now merged identities so ferociously, there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. It’s borderline creepy, the way they almost look like twins at this point, but no one ever comments on it out loud. Taylor assumes that’s just what happens when you fall in love, but something about it seems a little...much.

Not that she would know.  

“You should come to the clearing,” Jen suggests, with Judy nodding emphatically. “We’re headin’ there in a few.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Taylor verbally agrees, while mentally declining. The clearing is a dump, almost literally, where everyone in town gathers as an excuse to do something other than sit at home. Taylor hasn’t been there since she was 15. JenandJudy smile, satisfied at doing the bare minimum in extending the invitation. 

Judy’s arm stays protectively around Jen’s waist. She watches her with starry-eyed fascination as her girlfriend pays. ‘Look at this incredible specimen!’ her eyes seem to exclaim, like it’s the singular most fantastic thing she’s ever witnessed. ‘She pays for groceries better than anyone I’ve ever seen! Can you believe it?’

Taylor snorts to herself. She isn’t mad, or even put off by it. It must be nice to have someone who thinks you’re fascinating, even when there’s nothing remotely amazing going on. The jealousy is warm and cozy, like a blanket she can pull snugly around her shoulders in her hour of need.

“See you later!” they announce, gathering their alcohol and heading for the door. Taylor waves a final goodbye.

“How do you tell them apart?” a voice teases from somewhere behind her. She turns, and instantly she’s met with bright hazel eyes that seem so sharp, they could probably dissect her right where she’s standing. Taylor swallows several times, unsuccessful in her attempts to get her mouth working properly. She smiles weakly, shrugging. “I’m just kidding,” the blonde stranger says, running her fingers through her hair. Taylor catches the way her slightly tanned cheeks flush, and a warmth runs through her chest. 

“It’s a good question,” Taylor says, glancing back out the door where JenandJudy have just left. “At this point, I don’t think I can.”

“Fair enough,” she giggles, and Taylor’s heart, inexplicably, flutters. 

Sexy customers are not really a thing at The Pig, and when it happens, it’s almost like spotting a unicorn. In all the years Taylor has been working here, it’s only happened half a time, and that’s because the woman in question was wearing so much makeup that Taylor couldn’t make an accurate assessment. 

She’s suddenly acutely aware of her horrifying vest, and the fact that her brown hair is disgusting, all matted and greasy against her scalp. Of course this would happen tonight, of all nights. The final night. Why couldn’t she have made an effort, just this once? Maybe she should have planned better. But she knows no amount of planning would ever prepare her to lock eyes with someone as stunning as the girl in front of her now.

She adjusts her dark framed glasses and tries to focus on doing her job without saying anything horrifying.

There are only two items to scan: a sympathy card and flowers. Taylor glances up at the stranger and notices her wringing her fingers together, looking around the store with a sort of forlorn expression. She clears her throat. 

“These are really pretty,” Taylor offers, gesturing at the flowers as she scans the other item. She doesn’t know why she comments. She usually makes it a rule not to get involved in other people’s purchases. It’s none of her business. Whenever she goes shopping, she’s so conscious of what’s going through the clerk’s mind that she almost can’t stand it. But this feels different. Magnetic, somehow, like she’s drawn to this girl, like not saying something is a worse transgression. Besides, she started it. The conversation feels like it has to go somewhere. 

“You think?” the girl replies, taking them with a skeptical smile. It’s a lavender themed wildflower bouquet. Classy, in Taylor’s not-so-expert opinion. “I wasn’t sure.”

“They’re great,” Taylor assures her.

“They’re for my friend,” the girl explains. “Her cousin died, and I wanted to stop by and do something nice for her, you know? But I’m the worst at these things. I never know what to freakin’ say.”

“Sometimes just showing up is enough,” Taylor says, and she means it with everything she has. She wishes more people would understand that. Just being there means everything.

“That’s a good point,” she replies, looking thoughtful. “It’s always nice to know that people care. I wish we didn’t always wait for funerals to show that to each other, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“It’s too late, and then what?” the girl asks, almost exasperated. “It’s not fair. People should just be nicer to each other.”

“They should,” Taylor agrees, her heart pounding as they make eye contact. The girl smiles, a dazzling, dreamy smile, and Taylor’s insides melt. “She’s lucky to have you.”

The girl takes her change and shrugs. As she gathers her items, she pauses and nods at Taylor again. “Thanks for listening to me ramble,” she says. “Genuinely. I haven’t come to this grocery store before, but I just moved from across town. I think this is going to be my new regular spot. I’m sure I’ll see you around soon.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Taylor promises. 

Her eyes follow the girl to the exit. She watches her carry her items carefully, her other hand fishing in her jeans pocket for her keys. Taylor stares long after she’s gone and decides that maybe, just maybe, she can hold on for a little longer.

----

The charming stranger returns a week later, on an unassuming Tuesday evening to do a routine stock of groceries. Taylor is working, holding on to the hope of being able to see her again. If that makes her pathetic, then she’s already mostly made peace with that. She sees the stunning blonde sashay in around 7pm, wearing the exact same outfit as she wore when Taylor met her: a red zip up sweatshirt, white tshirt, and jeans that seem to be tailor made for her. Taylor’s mouth is instantly dry, her insides pulsing like the walls of a night club. The girl glances at her phone with a focused expression, before placing it in her pocket. 

Taylor wonders idly if she normally shops on off hours like this, but she supposes she’ll figure it out sooner or later. That’s the thing about always working at a place so integral to people’s lives: the routines become part of her. She knows Mr. Jensen, the math teacher, always shops on Wednesday mornings because he has two free periods and hates crowds. He stocks up on Folger’s coffee like they’re going out of business, and he has a particular affinity for Corn Flakes cereal. 

Taylor can tell you about most of her regulars. She knows their preferences, their routines, their schedules. She even knows their moods. An extra bottle of wine for the dark haired lady who works downtown? A rough week. Lactaid milk for the balding guy that lives in her apartment complex? His mom is coming to town. 

All this without saying much more than “paper or plastic?” and “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Hey!” a now familiar voice announces. Taylor turns, and once again is taken by mystery girl’s marvelous hazel eyes. She’s smiling like they’re in on a tremendous secret, even though there’s nothing coincidental about running into her here. 

“You’re back,” Taylor greets, trying to keep her voice steady, like she hasn’t been counting down the minutes until she could see this girl again. She absolutely has, but no reason for her to know that. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yup,” the girl says, piling her items on the conveyor belt. “Most importantly--” she reaches into her cart and picks up a bottle of wine. A red blend from Napa. That tracks. Pretty girls from out of town drink smooth red wines. Everyone knows that. 

She slides over her ID and Taylor scans it quickly. Not too quickly to notice her name, though. It’s like a slight-of-hand card trick, the way she does it without moving her eyes. The result of years of on the job training. She can’t say the Pig didn’t give her at least one weirdly applicable skill.

The blonde’s picture beams back at her. Whose DMV photo comes out this gorgeous? Taylor bites her lip as her gaze flickers to the flawless face in front of her. Nice to meet you, Whitney Matthews, of Cherry Grove Court. According to her license, she’s 24 as of April 4th, making her two years older than Taylor. She slides the ID back and rings up the rest of her items. The haul is mostly produce, almond milk, eggs. She’s clearly a responsible eater, one of those people who seem to be into wellness. She probably does yoga. Taylor sneaks a glance at Whitney’s legs. 

Definitely yoga.

There’s a few frozen pizzas and a surprising appearance from a large bag of skittles. Taylor grins as she rings them up. 

“I love skittles,” Whitney says with a teasing smile. “Don’t judge me.”

“Who doesn’t love skittles?”

“Thank you,” Whitney nods, approving. She grabs her bags and puts them back in her cart. “Same time next week?” She chuckles when she says it and Taylor’s cheeks flush, as if this is a standing date the two of them now have. 

With a nod she replies, “I’ll be here.”

Whitney gives her a little wave, and Taylor wonders if she’s like this with everyone. Is she a serial conversationalist, making flirtatious small talk with every clerk in town? Or is this something a little more significant?

She knows what she wants the answer to be.

---

From then on, every Tuesday, like clockwork, Whitney comes into the Pig and does her usual shopping trip. She always seems to wear her signature red hoodie and jeans, like she’s got her own version of a grocery uniform-- only hers isn’t mortifying and ugly. Quite the opposite, if Taylor has anything to say about it. It’s casual and sexy which is a combination only Whitney can pull off with such ease. She usually has her hair up in a ponytail, but sometimes she comes in with wavy, sunkissed locks, and Taylor can’t seem to shake the desperate need to run her fingers through it.

Today is a skittles day, which means Whitney’s in a good mood. These are the weeks Taylor loves the most. This is when Whitney gives her teasing smiles that stay on her face a little longer than usual, and offers tidbits about her day. She’s a nurse in the orthopedic wing at the hospital, she says, and this week she got to scrub in on a really complicated sounding surgery. A knee reconstruction, or something. It’s so impressive that Taylor almost forgets she’s supposed to be scanning groceries, lost in the idea of Whitney out there doing good, saving lives. She feels inadequate in comparison, but can’t seem to dwell on it while Whitney is here looking at her like she’s the only person in the world she wants to talk to. 

Sometimes, on weeks like this, she’ll share her weekend plans, or talk about something she’s planning to cook. She likes to go hiking, which isn’t a surprise. She also loves Italian food. Taylor listens and catalogues everything in a mental Whitney spreadsheet that she keeps in her brain, in case she ever has a reason to need it.

She hopes one day, she will. 

Some weeks, though, Whitney only buys the staples, and her smile is a little slower, her eyes a little muted. She’s more tired, or stressed, or something that Taylor can’t detangle, and those are the weeks Taylor wishes didn’t have to exist. On those days, it’s almost like the little light in Whitney flickers, too exhausted to be kept on at the normal brightness she exudes. She quietly greets Taylor, and thanks her when the transaction is done. She puts her bags in her cart and slowly shuffles out of the store, leaving Taylor alone with nothing but Bonnie Tyler crooning in the background. 

Turn around, bright eyes.

“Shut up, Bonnie,” Taylor mutters, disappointed.

---

Taylor tries to avoid working Saturdays because the Pig turns into an overrun madhouse of exhausted mothers, screaming children, and bleary eyed white collar workers who can’t sneak away from the office any other time to do their shopping. The lines are nonstop. The shelves are in a perpetual state of near-depletion. Everywhere she looks, it’s a disaster, the store ground zero of a perfectly executed attack.

But the extra cash is necessary if Taylor is going to go back to school. She decides to get serious about it on a random night when her shift ends. Whitney had been in, elated from a successful day caring for a patient with a broken leg, and something in Taylor just clicked. Maybe this isn’t everything her life has in store for her. Maybe the Pig isn’t her last stop.

Nursing probably isn’t a good fit, she’s squeamish around needles and doesn’t think she can handle that much potential death. It’s ironic, considering her state of mind a while ago, but the two ideas remain disconnected. She considers teaching, or journalism, or maybe even accounting. She’s always been good with numbers. The options are suddenly endless.

She’s giddy at the prospect, and it seems to overflow into her work. She’s chatting with customers for no reason today -- asking more than the obligatory questions, and even going so far as to compliment a lady’s hair cut. Everything feels brighter, somehow. 

The morning goes by in a blur of produce codes and aisle clean ups, but the pace is strangely satisfying. It’s already 2pm by the time she checks her watch, which is astonishing. Her face hurts from smiling at so many people, but that’s a nice problem to have. She turns her attention to the next customer and her heart catches in her throat.

“Twice in one week, lucky me,” Whitney says cheerfully, smiling a hundred watt smile as she places the divider on the belt to separate her items from the person behind her. “How ya doin?”

“Great,” Taylor squeaks, her voice cracking horribly. She clears her throat and studies Whitney’s stuff. A birthday cake and some wine. Taylor’s stomach drops. She glances at her watch. April 4th. “How--how are you?”

It’s Whitney’s birthday, but she doesn’t want to bring it up. She doesn’t want to explain why she knows it, why April 4th is ingrained in her memory. It isn’t for any creepy reasons, honest. She just finds Whitney fascinating on every level. And a little sexy. It’s not a crime to be invested.

Whitney shrugs. “Oh, you know, doing okay,” she says, and it isn’t very convincing. She looks suddenly defeated, and Taylor wants so badly to help. 

“Got any plans tonight?” she asks, hoping it might coax something out of her. She wants Whitney to be doing something extraordinary, to have a day that celebrates her, the way she deserves. But her demeanor stays reserved. 

“Dinner with my parents, and my sister,” she says softly. “Nothin’ crazy.”

“And cake, of course.”

“And cake,” Whitney agrees. “Of course.”

The receipt is printed, and Taylor finally cracks. She wants to ask about her family, about her sister. Is she older or younger? Is she anything like Whitney or completely the opposite? Does she get along with her family?

“Is it your birthday?” is all she asks instead, the only question she already knows the answer to. She blinks at Whitney carefully.

Whitney’s cheeks flush as she nods. “The cake gave it away, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” Taylor replies.

“Pretty sad, I know, buying my own cake,” Whitney shrugs. “It kind of snuck up on me this year.”

“No, it’s not sad,” Taylor says, trying her best to reassure her. She carefully places the cake in a bag and gently ties the top. Their hands touch as Whitney takes it, and a jolt goes through Taylor’s core. She swallows heavily, trying to gain her composure.“This way at least you know you’re getting one you like, right?”

“Very true,” Whitney finally smiles. “Something about bakery frosting, I swear. I don’t even care what kind of cake it is, but this frosting is addicting. My mom is probably baking something, so she’s going to be so pissed.” She laughs at that, and Taylor joins her, for the simple fact that Whitney seems to finally be cheerful. 

“I hope you have a really great birthday,” Taylor says, handing her the receipt. 

“Thanks,” Whitney takes it, her nose scrunching as she smiles. “I’m glad I saw you.”

Whitney exits, and Taylor’s eyes follow her for a few seconds. She wonders, briefly, if Whitney is happy.

---

Conversations have never come easy to Taylor. People are fascinating, but only from a distance. She likes to observe, to formulate an idea of a person curated from the tidbits they choose to share. She’s always been told she’s a great listener. Mostly, it’s because she doesn’t have a choice. She doesn’t want to say something stupid or awkward and disrupt the connection she has with someone. Instead, she nods along, perfectly content to absorb whatever people feel like sharing.

Whitney doesn’t seem to mind Taylor’s silence. She’s warm and genuine, always patiently nudging the conversation ahead and navigating when Taylor prefers to coast. Granted, they don’t sit down and have long heart to hearts, but their connection is purposeful. They speak with intent; Whitney always seems to focus on Taylor and only Taylor when they speak. She isn’t on her phone or reading over her shoulder or flipping through a magazine. She even goes as far as pausing on unloading her groceries in order to finish her thought, or wait for Taylor’s response. She’s probably the worst to stand behind in line, because she never seems to be in a rush. She simply exists in the moment, thoughtful and patient and kind, allowing herself to simply be.

Their routine continues week in and week out. Whitney comes into the store, seeks out Taylor’s line, and pauses to catch up. They’re cautiously toeing the line from acquaintances to almost-friendship, a gray area that Taylor knows is going to eventually require a leap. But just seeing Whitney’s face light up when she holds up two bags of potato chips one Tuesday night in late May is enough for Taylor to be grateful. 

She’ll take Whitney in any form she can get, even if it’s just as the adorable customer with the dazzling eyes who gets overly excited about a potato chip sale.

“Buy 2 get 2, I’m so freaking pumped!” Whitney exclaims, placing them down on the belt and grinning in triumph. She doesn’t usually buy chips, so Taylor’s eyebrow raises in question. 

“What?”

“You don’t usually buy them,” Taylor shrugs, scanning the package. Lays BBQ and Wavy. Interesting.

“My friend is having a barbecue and I’m on snack duty,” Whitney says, surveying the rest of her items with a frown. She places her hands on her hips. “What am I missing?”

Taylor follows her eyes and takes note of the contents: several kinds of dips, and what looks like one of each type of chip flavor the store carries. She shakes her head and grins. “Did you leave any on the shelves?”

“Very funny,” Whitney rolls her eyes.

“Sweet tea?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t see it,” Taylor frowns, searching again. 

“What?” Whitney tilts her head thoughtfully to the side before her eyes widen. “Oh! Sweet tea. Sweet tea! I thought you said sweetie.”

Whitney’s cheeks flush, and the muscles in Taylor’s stomach clench at the unexpected endearment. She’s warm and tingly all over, and might actually pass out, now that she’s processing the whole exchange. Whitney reacted so naturally, like tossing out ‘sweetie’ is just something they casually do.

Taylor chuckles, shaking her head. “They basically sound the same, yeah,” she agrees, and Whitney holds her hand loosely over her mouth. 

“I’m an idiot,” she says. “No, I don’t have sweet tea. Should I?”

“Sort of a requirement around these parts.”

“Dang, the more you know.” Whitney glances at the drink aisle and back to Taylor. 

“No worries, I’ll go get it for you,” Taylor says, already turning toward the aisle. She slips past several customers and heads for the back of the store. She could navigate with her eyes closed, but she still picks up the pace so she doesn’t keep Whitney waiting. She grabs the biggest one she can find and heads back to her register. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” Whitney gushes, and Taylor feels her cheeks burn. That’s her, the friendly neighborhood sweet tea proctor. 

“It’s not quite the real deal, but it’s damn good,” Taylor says as she rings everything up. 

“The real deal huh? You’ll have to tell me how to do that,” Whitney says. She places her card in the reader and grins. “I’m obviously not from here originally.”

She has a smooth accent, but not one Taylor can easily place. Her voice isn’t nasally like a northerner, but she talks faster than most of the people around here. It’s actually been driving Taylor crazy for weeks.

“Where are you from?”

Whitney gives her a teasing smile, her full lips twisting as she grins. “Guess.”

Taylor thinks about it more. Their eyes meet and her heart flips, the way it always does when Whitney’s around. She squints and sighs. “California?”

“Nope,” she replies, her smile radiant. She’s positively giddy at the idea of this game. “Guess you won’t find out.”

Taylor holds out her receipt. Whitney reaches for it, and Taylor pulls it back at the last minute. “How about now?”

Whitney’s mouth hangs open playfully as her eyes widen. “Taylor!”

She almost drops the receipt. It’s the first time Whitney says her name, and it sounds incredible coming from her lips. She has never been more thankful for her ugly name tag than right at this moment. She wants to ask her to repeat it, to find some way for her to say it over and over and over. Taylor. Her name is suddenly majestic.

Whitney grabs the receipt, catching Taylor in her tailspin. She flashes it in victory. “Don’t worry,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “I’ll tell you sometime.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Taylor says as Whitney gathers her bags. “Bye Whitney.”

“Later, Taylor,” she replies with a sweet smile, and Taylor’s entire body vibrates with something magical.

---

The summer is a whirlwind of activity. Besides the holiday rush, this is the only other time where Taylor notices a deluge of milestones. Graduations, weddings, christenings, all seem to be taking place in June, July and August. She recognizes Mrs. Johanssen from the library, coming in for a graduation cake. It’s for her son, she beams, he’s graduating from college, can you believe it? Taylor smiles and rings it up, sending her on her way with congratulations.

Mr. Hood, the hulking owner of Smash Fitness, comes in one morning for a dozen pink roses and a pink balloon. It’s for a christening, he says, blushing. His muscled hand is surprisingly gentle as he cradles the stems of the flowers. His arms practically burst through the sleeves of his suit. His baby girl, he gushes. Did she want to see pictures? Taylor obliges, and smiles, and wishes him the best. His eyes are misty as he thanks her and heads out on his way.

It’s a strange phenomenon to be present for the significant events in people’s lives without really knowing them. But Taylor shares something with each and every person, experiencing pieces of their joy as if she’s actually present for their celebrations. It’s one thing about this job that she’s grateful for. There’s an unexpected connection now, and that makes it mean something. 

Whitney comes into the store more often, celebrating her own set of milestones. Taylor watches day in and day out as she buys graduation cards, and birthday cakes for family members, and a wedding card for another cousin. The wedding is going to be in Napa, she tells Taylor, starry-eyed. Isn’t that cool?

Taylor smiles, thinking of Whitney in a beautiful bridesmaid’s dress. Not the kind that awful brides make their friends wear so they look frumpy in comparison. But the real classic kind, a deep blue or a maroon, maybe, that would fit her like a glove and make her tan skin look incredible. She nods along with Whitney’s excitement, hoping for pictures, even though she knows that’s far fetched.

Taylor gives her the receipt and her bag and wishes her a great trip. She feels the way Whitney keeps her eyes on her as she starts to ring up the next customer in line. 

“Can I text you?” Whitney asks softly, so softly that Taylor almost thinks she’s imagining things.

She turns to face her, and sees Whitney’s hopeful smile as she holds out her phone. “If you want,” she says. “I thought I could send you pictures from the wedding.”

“Yeah,” Taylor says. She has to shake her head to make sure this is really happening, but then she nods, taking Whitney’s phone. She puts in her number and hands it back. “I’d love that.”

“Great,” Whitney says, staring at her phone briefly before nodding, satisfied. “I’ll do that then.”

For the first time in months, Taylor catches the music on the speakers. 

Somewhere just beyond my reach, there’s someone reaching back for me.

---

The following Tuesday, or Whitney day as Taylor secretly refers to it, is awful, because Whitney is out of town. She wakes up in a sour mood, despite the fact that they text now, which is a significant step in a fantastic direction. It just isn’t the same, knowing she won’t see her face in person, or get to listen to her talk about her day with a wry smile, or get teased for still not being able to guess where she’s from.

The day is long, but at least Whitney is diligent with her messages. That’s one thing Taylor was happy to discover with this whole development. Whitney doesn’t just text -- she writes. She sends her silly messages, almost a stream of consciousness that Taylor can actually picture her saying in person. It makes getting through her shift infuriating, for the simple fact that she can’t focus enough to reply. Even though that’s absolutely all she wants to do.

She asks for Taylor’s opinion on Wonder Bread, and what there is to wonder about, but then she answers her own question since she’s clearly sitting here wondering about it. She asks about Taylor’s work schedule. She tells her about the California weather. She sends a picture of a palm tree. She apologizes for sending so many messages. 

Taylor quickly sneaks a look at her phone and tells her it’s okay. She likes them. 

Finally, she sends a picture of her in her dress. Taylor’s face blazes. Whitney’s hair is done up in an elegant updo, a few pieces curled perfectly to fall along her cheek. The dress is magnificent -- a coral color that makes Whitney’s eyes pop. She’s got a sly teasing smile, like she wants to appear unsure that looks amazing, but knows she looks beyond.

“Dammit,” Taylor mumbles to herself, closing her eyes and trying to keep steady. It’s all she can do to stay rooted to the spot instead of hopping on a flight to who knows where California and trying to find her. 

“You have beautiful eyes,” she replies, which doesn’t convey what she wants to say at all. In a fit of embarrassment, she pockets her phone. 

The week is painfully slow, but somehow, they make it to next Tuesday. Taylor is on her “lunch” break, a 4pm slot that is closer to dinner, but no one cares enough to be technical about it. She’s sitting at one of the tables by the deli, which she does on occasion when the store is slow. The employee break room is dark and depressing, with a TV that only plays 3 channels, 1 of which is Fox News on repeat. She’d rather face awkward conversations and customer questions than Tomi Lahren, thank you very much.

She feels someone standing near her and she glances up, practically choking on her sandwich when she realizes it’s Whitney. She’s radiant, smiling like she’s got a trick up her sleeve and Taylor is so overjoyed she almost stands up to hug her. She isn’t much of a touchy feely person, but Whitney has her head spinning in so many directions, she might just make an exception.

“Hey!” Whitney exclaims, claiming a chair for her own and plopping down. “Can I sit here?”

“You already are,” Taylor says, chuckling. Whitney rolls her eyes. 

“Smart ass,” she says. 

“You’re here early,” Taylor says, checking her watch.

“I didn’t go to work today,” Whitney says, shrugging. “I took an extra day off. Jet lag is a bitch.”

Taylor nods as if she understands, but she’s never been out of the state. She takes a sip of her soda to try to steady her nerves.

Whitney taps on the table nervously. She’s fidgety, and gorgeous, and Taylor wants to just reach across the table and hold her hand. She doesn’t. She knows it would be weird, or something. It’s confusing. She’s pretty sure Whitney feels the crazy connection between them, but it’s also something she’s going to have to act on. Taylor doesn’t want to make anything uncomfortable.  

“I’m not really good at this, and I know I should have done this a long time ago so I’m just going to ask--” Whitney starts, her eyes darting from the table to Taylor and back down again. “Um--”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask yet!”

“I feel like I know you,” Taylor replies, shrugging. She doesn’t care what Whitney is going to ask. She already knows her answer is always going to be yes. 

Whitney pauses. “Yeah,” she agrees, an airy chuckle escaping her lips. “I feel like I know you, too.”

“So what were you going to ask?” Taylor’s stomach is in knots, but the good kind that comes from anticipation and excitement.

“Oh right,” Whitney bites her lip, like she’s trying to keep the words contained before blurting them out in an incoherent jumble. “Would you want to go out sometime?” Another breath. “With me, I mean?”

As if Taylor would want to go out with anyone else. 

“It’s still a yes,” Taylor says softly. Whitney meets her eyes and a look of relief passes over her face.

“Yeah?” Whitney scrunches her nose and grins. “When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow I finish at 3,” Taylor says. “I’m free the whole night.”

“Tomorrow it is,” Whitney slaps the table with a snappy grin and stands up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a ton of shopping to do.”

Taylor nods her goodbye and takes another sip of her drink. 

Forever’s gonna start tonight, Bonnie Tyler exclaims. For once, Taylor thinks she might be right.

---

The most disorienting experience is shopping at another grocery store. Their layout feels twisted and wrong, the lights a weird, new-age dimness that makes her forget what time it is. Taylor peruses the aisles slowly, going over her list with precision. 

She doesn’t like to shop at the Pig too often since she knows everyone there. It just turns into an hour of unnecessary conversations then two hours of jumping in to actually work, even if she’s off. Tonight she’s on a schedule. She only has a few hours before her night class at the community college. She’s almost finished with her first year, which is crazy. Accounting, which is smooth and satisfying, the numbers crisp and clean and honest. 

But she’s also taking creative writing, too. She has too many stories to keep in her head. 

The frozen aisle is up next. She places three frozen pizzas in the cart, grinning to herself. They taste like cardboard, but she isn’t going to complain. She stocks up on almond milk and eggs, and gets all the fresh produce. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s Whitney, reminding her about dinner tomorrow, as if Taylor could ever forget. Tomorrow is Whitney’s birthday, and she’s been planning a weekend trip for them for months. She’s going to surprise her and take her to Florida where, it turns out, Whitney is from. It only took several agonizing months to pry that information out of her, but Taylor finally landed on a quality guess. 

She thumbs through several cards, none of them saying exactly what she feels, but she ultimately settles on one with two puppies. Can’t ever go wrong with puppies. She tosses in a bag of skittles and heads for the check out.

The clerk is a quiet girl who smiles at her briefly before scanning her items. Taylor fixes her shirt, a nervous habit when she doesn’t know whether to make conversation or not. She absentmindedly fiddles with the buttons, wondering if this shirt is hers or Whitney’s. It doesn’t really matter.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” the girl asks, her bored eyes still focused ahead of her, trained on the screen. 

“Yeah,” Taylor says, confidently. “Yeah, I did.”

[the-hs-etaverse]

Headcanon that after Rose and Kanaya decide to move out of their flat and get a house, Vriska and Terezi (who have both returned and are dating by this point) move in with them. They just ask to stay temporarily at first, promising that they’ll find their own flat eventually, but as time goes on, Vriska reels in favours and invents reasons to stay for longer. Rose and Kanaya don’t mind, however; they appreciate the company. And eventually it becomes obvious to all four of them that the current living situation is effectively permanent.

When you have functional (barely) lesbian wives, disaster bisexual girlfriends, and three cats all living in the same house, you get sitcom-level scenarios.

Take note that aside from Rosemary and Vrisrezi, all relationships are platonic.

This got really long so I’m putting it under a Read More tag.

First, about the cats. Technically, they belong to Rose and Kanaya, since they’re the ones who feed them. But one of them, a ginger tom, has practically glued himself to Vriska. Vriska wears a lot of black. I think you can see where this is going.

The cats pose a problem for Terezi for two reasons. First of all, she’s prone to tripping over them or sitting on them by accident. Second, on multiple occasions, she has licked something and gotten a mouthful of cat hair for her efforts. Needless to say, none of the cats like her.

After The Saliva Incident of February 16th, Terezi is no longer allowed to lick anything not within her and Vriska’s room. Nobody is allowed to talk about The Saliva Incident of February 16th for fear of going under the business end of Kanaya’s lipstick.

Rose is fairly neat but is prone to mess when sleep-deprived, which she often is. Kanaya is a neat freak. Vriska and Terezi are slobs on par with stereotypical university students. There is an ongoing feud.

They’re all kept busy in some manner. Kanaya’s the only one with a real job: taking care of the mother grub. Rose and Terezi are both in university, studying psychology and law respectively. Vriska bounces between part-time jobs a lot, trying to figure out what she’s going to do with herself for the rest of eternity.

Kanaya has remarked that Vriska and Terezi are vacillating through all four quadrants simultaneously. Karkat is trying to confirm her claim but is hung up on the auspistice part.

Vriska has expressed interest in acting. She’s torn about whether it would be a good or bad idea due to her god status.

Jade is slowly but surely teaching Kanaya how to teleport. She practices a lot. The cats are afraid of her now. Terezi refused to speak to her for a week following one incident that shall not be discussed.

Rose and Kanaya, even though they’re married, are not clingy. Kanaya in particular is reticent to express affection through physical means. Vriska and Terezi, however, are very clingy. More need not be said on this matter.

In contrast, Rose and Kanaya often call each other pet names. They most frequently use “honey” and “dear”, but sometimes they branch out. Vriska and Terezi only call each other pet names if they’re actively trying to make other people uncomfortable. It happens more often than you’d think.

The four young ladies hold game/movie nights every Thursday. Occasionally, Dave and Karkat join them. Sometimes, they do livestreams. Those often deteriorate into madness.

They watched “The Sting” one evening. Vriska now has ideas. She is officially barred from watching “Ocean’s 8″.

Rose once convinced everybody to join her in binge-watching all the Lord of the Rings movies in one day. It went over surprisingly well. She’s now trying (unsuccessfully) to get Vriska and Terezi to read the books. (Kanaya has read them but doesn’t like them quite as much as Rose does.)

Kanaya and Terezi used to duel on the front porch on occasion. After Terezi nearly lost a finger, they stopped.

Vriska is the reason why Terezi failed her bar exam.

None of them can cook. Like, not even Kanaya can make anything more complex than a sandwich. They get takeout about twice a week.

Vriska has been known to subsist on nothing but graham crackers and those pull-apart cheese stick things for upwards of 36 hours. It’s not that she forgets to eat, it’s that she snacks on them nigh-constantly and doesn’t feel hungry enough to consume an actual meal.

Rose is the one who forgets to eat. Some days, she only has lunch and drinks coffee the rest of the time. Kanaya posts sticky note reminders for her all the time. They don’t help much.

Terezi, on the other hand, has a ridiculously fast metabolism. They always order two medium pizzas instead of one because Terezi will finish one all on her own.

Kanaya’s diet is mostly normal. She has acquired a liking for rare meat.

Vriska can sleep through a fire alarm (and has done so before), which is a good thing because Terezi snores. However, Terezi’s a fairly light sleeper, so sometimes she wakes herself up.

Kanaya sleeps like a mummy. She lies on her back and just. Doesn’t move. Rose doesn’t seem to find this odd.

Terezi stole a copy of Roxy’s old Complacency of the Learned fanfiction and brought it home for her and Rose to read. Rose claimed that she was simultaneously expecting both better and worse out of it.

At one point, Aradia burst through the window and asked to stay over for the night. They let her stay. She left in the morning without any explanation.

Kanaya has a deal with the local hospital with regards to her blood-drinking requirements. (They let her purchase donated blood from them for a fee.) Sometimes, if she runs out and forgets to go shopping, she’ll ask one of her friends to donate.

Terezi is proficient in the slide whistle, to the detriment of everybody else.

Vriska knows that Kanaya should never be trusted to name things in any timeline. She stopped her from naming one of the cats Nepeta.

The names of the cats are:

Glenn: The ginger tom who loves Vriska. Is found sleeping in very strange places.

Shepard: Grey tabby tom, slightly ornery but mostly lazy. Kanaya’s cat, by process of elimination.

Artemis: Brown tabby she-cat, slightly lazy but mostly ornery. Only likes Rose. Was almost named Nepeta.

They all have wildly different tastes in music. Terezi prefers so-called “single-colour songs”, which can be anything from smooth jazz to EDM to heavy metal. (Her playlist is like an acid trip.) Rose likes classical music and dubstep and dubstep remixes of classical music. Vriska likes rock, both classic and alternative. Kanaya prefers show tunes and the like. However, they are all united by a strong distaste for country music.

Rose is learning Alternian so that she can understand what Kanaya, Vriska, and Terezi say behind her back. She already knows what her birthday present is going to be. It’s either a set of golf clubs or a necklace. She’s still pretty shaky on vocabulary.

Kanaya claims she is the sole reason why Rose and Vriska haven’t killed each other yet. (Vriska actually HAS killed Rose, but it was ruled a stupid death. Thank God.)

Terezi hung a stuffed Dirk in effigy in the dining room once. Rose took it down almost immediately, but she took a picture of it first.

Rose is practically nocturnal at this point, given her university studies and the nocturnal habits of her housemates. One time, she stayed up for 53 hours straight. Lots of hallucinations and espresso were involved.

Other than all the clashing caused by the differing personalities, the four young ladies get along surprisingly well. Sometimes, they claim that their time spent on the meteor was training.

[fineosaur]

2019 year in review

thank you for tagging me, lovely @thesilverrqueen !

(none of these are in order cause my indecision doesn't let me)

Top 5 films (did i even watch 5 movies last year??)

1. shutter island (i had been meaning to watch this one for years and finally did, god.. such a brilliant movie. definitely a fav)

how to train your dragon 3 (httyd franchise coming to an  end??? biggest rip but also cute asf i could rewatch all 3 over and over without getting bored)

spider-man: far from home (a spider-man movie with jake gyllenhaal??? excuse fuckign me of course this is on the list he looked gorgeous w his hair and beard. fuck me jacob.)

ek ladki ko dekha to aisa laga (a lesbian bollywood movie?? in my brown house hold??? thank fucking GOD. cried a lot at the end, still think about it till today and not to mention how much i love sonam kapoor and rajkumar rao)

el camino (GOD... the hurt i felt watching this and looking at jesse... man how i missed him. the pain was caused mostly by me remembering the kid in the yellow oversized hoodie who smiled and laughed and then seeing the traumatised man he’d become. just.. breaking bad sequel done right.)

Top 5 TV-shows (literally the only shows i actually ended up watching this year

peaky blinders (i started a while back, life happened then watched the whole thing again this year w the sis. fuckin wow, i cannot. i miss u john)

fleabag (if you havent watched fleabag???? sis wyd, STOP what you're doing and watch it now. this will probably go down as one of my favourite shows, humour, cynicism, love??)

derry girls (teenagers being allowed to be teenagers for once ffs, not giving us model looking supposed 16 year olds?? thank god. also giving glimpses of how the conflicts of that time affected their lives. just nice)

that 70s show (the episode names really just .. i couldnt stop. season 8 doesnt exist pls and thank u.)

the haunting of hill house (a horror show thats actually good?? it exists?? yes it does. and plus they let me stare at kate, carla, michiel and oliver for 10 episodes.)

(game of thrones who???)

Top 5 songs (can u believe only FIVE SONGS??? this shouldve been 5 albums but i’ll concede) 

mission - catfish and the bottlemen, the balance (ugh that beginning??? van u kill meee, “im sure you know what you’re doing now, if there’s a wall son, knock it down” & “you know i’ve shown you the ropes enough to know that almost dont count for nothing now, so go ahead make the missus proud” then the beat?? ugh i listen to this on repeat and just die;)

2all - catfish and the bottlemen, the balance (hits HARD and in the best way. all of the balance is just so dear to me i can’t imagine this year without it and will definitely be sad not to have new music from the boys until they decide to bless us. “i gave my love to all, all the ones that stuck around” which is also a quote i’ve stuck on my laptop.)

social cues - cage the elephant, social cues (i’ll just say it now, but cage the elephant kills me,, and matt’s voice is just always good to me. so when the album came out ofc i cried. “hide me in the back room, tell me when it’s over. dont know if i can play this part much longer” the way this bit is.. with the change in beat and matt’s singing just thank you. black madonna from the album is another fav)

wars - of monsters and men, fever dream (of monsters and men came out with a new album;........ WHEN I SAY I DIED --I REALLY DID. their music always has been transcendental to me so this one did what was promised. “love you on the weekends, but im careless and im wicked,” just... neato i cannot)

vulture, vulture - of monsters and men, fever dream (favourite song on the album, has been on repeat all fucking year. “i dont know about these heavy hands..” god the line, the way it’s sung just hits me)

Top 5 books

the glass menagerie - tennessee williams (hit me too hard and too close, the whole thing and the ending absolutely wrecked me ,,, tom wtf)

a storm of swords - george r.r. martin (everything about these two parts were just damn, i needED THAT. damn u george)

salt to the sea - ruta sepetys (oh god, i read this in a day whilst listening to handkerchief thief WHILST there was a storm, i got so immersed into it it was fuckin insane. ending is amazing and still sits inside me. the writing is beautiful i could reread this one over and over.)

the magic of reality - richard dawkins (dawkins is just.. explanation of everything in the best way possible for a fellow agnostic/atheist)

the fall of house usher - edgar allan poe (do i really have to elaborate? short story that leaves u unsettled)

5 positive or happy things that happened this year!

came out to my best friends  (who were both supportive as hell)

finished school! (good fucking riddance, cannot think of the last 2 years without getting nauseous)

got closer to a few friends that always manage to make me laugh stupidly (one of which is one of the few people actually staying in the country with me for their studies and has noted that i am now stuck with them for the years to come)

met some incredible people through tumblr (yknow who you babes are)

wrote for someone other than myself and got to practice something i love so dearly (thank you allll so much for allowing me to do so and enjoying something so dear to me)

im tagging @thelandofnothing @yanak324 @jjclarku @starkyards @aryasbadbenergy @princess-of-winterfell99 @watersandwolves and anyone who wants to do this, names aren't coming to me 

[catradorea]

Hey beautiful! I think I want you to answer... EVERYTHING!! hahaha I just love those kinds of posts

hehe you’re so cute babe 🥰 i’ll answer all the rest of the questions i haven’t already answered 💕

1. Femme or butch?

definitely femme

2. answered

3. Plaid button-ups or leather jackets?

hmm i don’t really wear either, but i’d probably most likely go for a leather jacket

4. Describe your style

floral femme

5. Describe your aesthetic

iced coffee on a rainy fall afternoon, double venus jewelry, purple color schemes, cats napping on a warm blanket, constellations, the moon reflected in the ocean, body glitter

6. Favorite article of clothing?

this sparkly blazer that makes me feel fierce

7. Favorite pair of shoes?

these black sandals with a chunky heel that gives me two extra inches of height 🙏🏻

8. Current haircut?

a little past shoulder length with side-swept bangs, nothing too fancy

9. Any haircut goals for the future?

i’ve always wanted to try an undercut, maybe one day i’ll be brave

10. answered

11. Describe the worst date you’ve been on

again, i’ve never been on an official date, so i can’t really answer that

12. Single? Taken?

happily taken by my lovely girlfriend

13. If taken, talk about your girlfriend/wife!

oh gosh… i could talk about her for hours. we just celebrated our 3 month anniversary yesterday and i’ve truly never been happier in my entire life. she is genuinely the best thing to ever happen to me, and i don’t know what i did to get as lucky as i did to have such a kind, thoughtful, understanding, patient, and beautiful woman love me in a way that is so pure and tender. she takes care of me in a way that no one ever has, and my heart just feels so safe and at peace knowing i’m in the most loving hands. she’s my world and i’m just so head over heels in love with her

14. If single, what are you looking for in a potential girlfriend/wife?

n/a

15. Describe your dream wedding

a small, intimate gathering on a secluded beach at sunset, listening to the soothing sounds of the ocean as i pledge my love and eternal devotion to the woman of my dreams

16. Do you want kids?

nope

17. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

somewhere in the pacific northwest

18. Favorite lesbian movie?

imagine me and you!

19. Favorite lesbian novel/story?

the price of salt

20. answered

21. Favorite lesbian musician?

shura and hayley kiyoko

22. What lesbian stereotypes do you fit into, if any?

i’m obsessed with cats and i enjoy wearing the occasional flannel

23. Ever been assumed to be nothing more than a gal pal?

as in… if i’ve ever been assumed to be straight? oh for sure. i present very feminine, so i guess i don’t ping a lot of people’s gaydar

24. answered

25. answered

26. Are you more of a cat person or a dog person?

cat person 10000000%

27. Turn ons?

kindness, intelligence, compassion for animals, speaking more than one language, brown eyes, praise….

28. Turn offs?

being mean or rude, passive aggressiveness, anger, crude humor

29. Do you usually ask other women out or do you wait for them to ask you?

i definitely wait to be asked… i am a bottom after all haha

30. What is your dream career?

being a trophy wife… but more realistically a successful painter

31. Talk about your interests or hobbies!

gaming, gaming, and more gaming

32. What is the most attractive quality a woman can have?

genuine kindness

33. Do you love easily or does it take time for you to warm up to someone?

i love pretty easily honestly

34. Ever fallen for your best-friend?

kinda…? i wasn’t actually in love though, they were just the only other lesbian i knew at the time and it seemed convenient haha

35. Ever fallen for a straight girl?

i actually haven’t shockingly enough

36. The L-Word: yes or no? (love it or hate it?)

i unironically love that hot mess of a show

37. Favorite comfort food?

MAC AND CHEESE 😩

38. Coffee or tea?

coffeeeeeee

39. Vegetarian? Vegan? None of the above?

i love chicken too much to ever be either

40. Do you have any pets?

i do! felix, auggie, and loki, my 3 precious feline children

41. Early-riser or night-owl?

night-owl… i do mostly everything at night

42. What is your sign?

libra

43. Can you drive?

i can!

44. Who was your first lesbian crush?

keira knightley… wife me ma’am

45. At what age did you know you were a lesbian?

i want to say 18, but it might’ve been 19

46. At what age did you come out (if you have)?

i came out to my mom when i was 24… i could’ve done it way sooner considering she was completely on board and fine with it, but it’s still a scary thing to work yourself up to do

47. Are you crushing on anyone at the moment (celebrity or otherwise)?

yes… my girlfriend!

48. Talk about how your day went

woke up, texted my girlfriend, made a latte, went back to my room, put on some music, and started answering the questions in my ask box… a thrilling journey

49. Talk about your dreams/aspirations for the future

all of my dreams and aspirations involve finally being with my girlfriend… moving in with her and starting our life together as we pursue our dreams

50. answered

[lattelesbean003]

1-50 for the asks lmao (if you feel like it, but you don’t have to lskdjfls)

1. What’s your sexual orientation?

I’m lesbian! 🏳️‍🌈

2. What are you obsessed with right now?

Uhh, I’m really into Haikyuu!! again. I’m still kinda obsessed with Marvel though lol.

3. Ever done any drugs?

Only prescribed drugs.

4. What piercings do you want?

Ohh, so many. I want three piercing on the lobes of both my ears and a couple cartridge piercings. I’ve kinda thought about a nose ring? But I’m not sure. As a start though I need to get over my fear of needles and actually get my ears pierced.

5. How many people have you kissed?

None.

6. Describe your dream home.

Okay okay. I want a one or two bedroom apartment in Montreal, Quebec. (NYC would be the dream but hahahhhh way too expensive). The kitchen would have dark cabinets with a white counter top, a nice deep sink with a movable faucet, obviously a dishwash and stove, a pretty big stainless steel fridge, a stainless steel microwave, and a toaster. I’d have a nice, big, comfy couch in the living room. There’d be lots of plants (I love plants), and a little table by a window for a ‘dining’ room. Bedroom would be big enough to fit a double or queen bed. Oh! I’d also have bookcases everywhere cause I love books and manga lol.

7. Who are you jealous of?

There are a few fanfic writers that I’m jealous of just cause they’re really good at writing and my dumbass feels inferior and bad about myself. It’s one of the things I hate about myself. I get insecure wayyy too easily.

8. What’s your favorite show to binge?

Right now, Haikyuu!!. I binged it pretty quickly and it’s turning into a comfort show for me lol.

9. Do you watch porn?

I have before, but it makes me uncomfortable.

10. Do you have a secret sideblog?

I do have a blog that I run that I haven’t told anyone about.

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?

Florence, Italy. I wanna go back so baddd.

12. What’s one of your fantasies?

Living a good and happy life and not feeling insecure about literally everything

13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced?

No I wouldn’t. Exposing my chest to anyone makes me very uncomfortable. Also, the idea of nipple piercings is very bizarre to me but hey, you do you boo.

14. How would you spend a million dollars?

I would buy way too many books and clothes lmao. Also food. If I didn’t set aside some of it for college, I’d spend it on dumb stuff like that.

15. Are you in a relationship?

No, but I wish. I’d love a girlfriend.

16. Do you follow porn blogs?

Nope!

17. Are you angry with anyone right now?

I’m not angry with anyone, just feeling insecure about my relationship with a couple people cause my brain is stupid.

18. What tattoos do you want?

I want a full sleeve tattoo! Idk what the art would be, mostly because I haven’t actually thought about it toooo much because tattoos involve needles and pain and those are two of my biggest fears. (Failure takes the number one spot though.)

19. If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to?

Oh uh, idk man. I’ve never thought about it. I’d just stick with Jen.

20. What is something you’re obsessed with?

For fandoms, Haikyuu!! right now, but I love sweet things way too much. Also, bread.

21. Describe your best friend.

Tall, adventurous, takes no shit, smart

22. Tag someone you think is hot.

@ms-bookdragon ;)

23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists?

I mostly like specific songs, rather than one artist. Here are my top five at the moment:

Piano Man / Billy Joel

My Love Will Never Die / AG, Claire Wyndham

Toss a Coin to Your Witcher / Samual Kim, Black Gryphon (I like the remix more than the original)

Dance Monkey / Tones and I

The Sound of Silence / Disturbed

24. What are three places you want to travel?

I really want to go to Quebec (and I might be able to this summer!!), Japan, and Greece. (I also wanna return to Italy).

25. Describe your perfect Friday night.

Sharing lots of laughs with friends.

26. What’s your favorite season?

Spring! I don’t mind winter if it snows, but where I live it mostly rains and it’s annoying lol. We’ve only had like, four dry days since the new year.

27. What’s your pet peeve?

LOUD CHEWING OMG I CAN’T STAND IT. Also when anything scraps against metal. Makes me cringe and tense up like nothing else.

28. Who is the funniest person you know?

A gay guy in my chem class. Also my neighbor. They both have very weird senses of humor but I appreciate them lol.

29. What’s the most overrated movie?

Avengers: Endgame. :3 (I will forever hate that movie lol.)

30. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message.

Oh god why you gotta do this to me. @voxofthevoid. Ahh he only knows me from my main not my sideblog. 😭

31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better?

Paper books don’t hurt my eyes as much. I don’t think I could read a paper version of a fanfic though.

32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick?

Oh oof, uhh none of them? They’re all kinda shitty worlds lol. 

33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like?

Lots of button-ups and sweaters. Jeans, converse, scarves, nice dresses and skirts. I don’t have a specific wardrobe, I mostly buy whatever catches my eye.

34. What’s your coffee order?

Depends on my mood, but I mostly buy ice caps at Tim Hortons. Sometimes a french vanilla. At proper coffee shops, I buy a latte or mocha. I can’t handle a normal latte yet though, so it’s normally a caramel latte or something. At Starbucks, I typically buy a caramel frappuccino. When it’s cold, a mocha latte. (The peppermint mocha is yummy.)

35. Do you have a crush on anyone?

Nope, kinda wish I did though. 

36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes?

Nope! I have on ex and mostly avoid him lol.

37. Have any tattoos?

No, but as I mentioned above I’d love a full sleeve tattoo.

38. Do you drink?

Nah, I’m still underage, alcohol is gross, and I’m not popular enough to be invited to parties.

39. Are you a virgin?

Yis. Still haven’t gotten my first kiss too.

40. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals?

No

41. How many followers do you have?

On this account, tumblr claims 39, but it’s actually 24 lmao. I have a joint account with another person that has over 1000 followers though.

42. Describe the hottest person you know.

She has a long mousy brown hair, a bunch of ear piercings, really adorable dimples, and a very nice smile. I’m like 99% she’s straight though.

43. What’s your guilty pleasure?

I indulge too much in junk food. 

44. Do you read erotica?

Yupp. I mean, if you count fanfic with sex in them plus the occasional doujinshi.

45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?

The one date I’ve been on wasn’t too bad, but the dude I went out with thought we were a couple after the one date. I feel kinda bad because I led him on for two weeks, unsure how to break it to him that I discovered I was gay soooo.

46. How many people do you follow?

100, but like over half of them aren’t very active.

47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick?

Hmmmmmmm. I don’t have a specific crush on anyone, but maybe Sebastian Stan just cause I wanna be his friend. He’s too old though lol.

48. Describe your ideal partner.

A girl (obviously), who’s could drag me to social events, but also enjoy a quiet night at home. Funny, encouraging/supportive, kind. Also lots of cuddles. I love cuddling and hand holding, plus cheek kisses!! Ahhh

49. Who do you text the most?

Two of my irl friends. They’re both great. I also text the person I have a joint blog with.

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?

A warm spring day. The sun isn’t too hot, the grass is a lush green, and there’s only a handful of clouds in the sky. On the flip side, if I don’t have to go to school, I love snow. Walking around my neighborhood when it’s totally quiet and peaceful is one of my favorite things to do.

[iceeckos12]

enchanted flower lesbians go

“Ari!” 

Ari wiped the sweat and dirt from her brow and looked up, shading the sun from her eyes with one hand. “Letitia? Is that you?”

Who else could it be? Princess Letitia, second in line to the throne and eldest daughter of the King and Queen, was hanging over the stone garden wall with a mischievous grin on her face. A few dark curls escaped from her vibrant head scarf, framing her square face. 

“Who other but me?” Letitia said cheerfully, then swung her legs over the wall and dropped to the other side. Even though Ari knew that she’d been in court since early this morning the princess was wearing a pair of humble brown trousers and a loose blouse. Letitia had always preferred menswear over her skirts and dresses, and the king and queen were not above indulging her. 

Ari looked over Letitia’s shoulder, then let out a fond, exasperated sigh. “I see you’re missing your faithful bodyguard. Calista will have your head if she finds you.”

Letitia dusted off her trousers and tucked her hair back into place. “Calista is boring.” Then, with the same haughty demeanor that had given her such a reputation as a spoiled troublemaker, “And you wouldn’t tell her, would you?”

It was less of a question and more of a statement. Ari was glad that her blushes tended not to show on her face, and rolled her eyes. Everyone knew that Princess Letitia was bad news, a rambunctious troublemaker who stole the heart of any man and woman who looked at her. When Ari had first been hired on as the palace gardener almost five years ago, people had practically fallen over each other to tell her sweet, innocent thing like you, do not talk to Princess Letitia! 

Unfortunately, Ari was never good at heeding advice when she could sate her curiosity instead. 

Unfortunately, all the rumors were true. 

“No, I suppose not.” Ari said. “Come, sit on the bench and tell me all about the tedious men and women of the court.”

Letitia didn’t need an invitation. She flopped onto the bench with a dramatic sigh, her feet pushed out in front of her like a child’s. “Oh, you would not believe it Ari. Madame Visconte was in fine form, she still thinks that her wretch of a daughter is good enough for Rakim.”

Ari snorted quietly. Everyone knew that Prince Rakim, oldest child, oldest son, and heir apparent had set his sights on a pauper from Theros. They would have been engaged already had the woman’s mother not gotten sick with consumption. 

“I told her what a delusional bat she was being—” Ari had long since gotten used to Letitia’s brutal sort of honesty, but that did not stop her from choking on nothing at the thought of the princess calling the Madame Visconte a ‘delusional bat’, “—but she just laughed at me!”

“You’ve become too predictable,” Ari said, nudging her shoulder gently. “Telling people they’re stupid was shocking when you were twelve. Word’s gotten around, dear.”

“I suppose,” Letitia said, pouting. “What should I do then? I can’t be losing my touch. Got to keep them on their toes, you know.”

“You could try being well-behaved,” Ari said, hiding a smirk behind her hand. “They’ll never see that one coming.”

Letitia fell backward onto the bench, clutching her heart. “Never!”

They were quiet for a second. The sun was high overhead but the air was cool and sweet, carrying the scent of honeysuckle, jasmine, citrus, and the musky scent of mulch. Ari’s plain blue skirt was hiked above her knees, but she felt no embarrassment, not around Letitia.  

“Ari,” Letitia said quietly, drawing Ari out of her musings. 

“Hm?” Ari asked.

“Show me how the flowers grow, would you?” 

Ari hesitated for a second, then smiled indulgently. “Of course, Princess.”

Ari took a deep breath, stood, and lifted her hands. Earth magic pulsed around her, and suddenly the scent of mulch and earth and life intensified, weaving through the fabric of her being. She felt her curls begin to drift upward, and knew her eyes were glowing a bright, unnatural green. 

And then she closed her hands into fists and yanked.  

Flowers burst from the Earth, pink and purple geraniums, baby blue cornflowers, puffy wheat celosia, sunflowers that opened to the sun. Raucous scents bloomed from all around them, vines overtaking trellis’s in seconds, the path overgrown like some deep forest. 

Breathing hard, Ari looked back over her shoulder at the princess, who was watching her with wide, velvet-brown eyes. 

“Beautiful,” Letitia whispered. 

-0-

“She loves you, you know,” Neo told her matter of factly. 

Ari let out a huff of annoyance and blew a strand of hair away from her face. She was still clearing vines from the trail from her little showing off for Letitia. Sometimes she wished she was less of a pushover where the princess was concerned. “What is it with you royals invading my garden?”

Neo, the second youngest child and the third son, let out an unamused snort and rolled his eyes. “It’s not invading. We can go wherever we like. This is the royal garden.”

“Is that what you told Rolfe before you kissed him?” Ari said without looking up. She wasn’t feeling particularly charitable right now. Rumor was that the king was having Letitia meet another suitor, the duchess of the Southern keep. She was supposedly very pretty, and very charming. Ari was none of those things, had been pauper before the king had hired her to the palace garden after her parents died in the plague. 

Neo spluttered. “How did you—”

Ari felt a little bad for lashing out. Neo was a pompous git, but he didn’t deserve her jealousy-fueled bad mood. “Dalia and Rakim have both had romantic trysts in the rose bushes. Pick somewhere a little more comfortable next time, would you? Preferably somewhere with less thorns.”

Neo was quiet for a second, and Ari thought that that might be it, the prince had decided to pick his battles and had left. But then there was the crunch of dirt beneath careful feet, and Neo said, “I was being serious, though. You know if you showed any sort of interest she’d pledge herself to you in a heartbeat.”

Ari scowled and jammed the trowel a little deeper into the earth. A vine snapped. “You don’t know that.”

“You think Lettie shows interest in just anyone?” Neo scoffed. “You’re not that much of an idiot. Please.”

Ari winced. Letitia hated being called Lettie, said it reminded her too much of being a snaggle-toothed child trailing in Rakim’s footsteps. “Why are you here, Ne—Prince Neo? You can’t just be here about my love life.”

Neo was quiet for a moment, then another, until the silence drew out for so long that Ari had to look up. The prince was blushing furiously, examining the ground between his shoes with sheepish expression. “I—Lettie is being insufferable.”

Oh, no. There was more to it than that. 

“Like you said,” Ari said dryly, setting the trowel between her knees and sitting up. “I’m not that much of an idiot. You’re trying to give me advice, which means you want a favor. Try again.”

“Would you cover for me?” Neo blurted. “I want to—I want to bring Rolfe here for—for a picnic. Would you cover for me?”

“Cover for what?”

Ari and Neo jumped at the new voice. Ari flushed an immediate, hot red when she realized that it was Letitia, still in her gaudy court wear for once. She was gorgeous of course, but she was tugging uncomfortably at the high collar, like she very much would like to rip it off. 

Ari turned away and busied herself with the vines again. “Fine,” She told Neo. “Deal.”

“Right,” Neo said, and bolted. 

“Hey!” Letitia shouted after her younger brother. “Neo—get back here!”

But Neo was long gone. Letitia had stopped being able to keep up with the light-boned boy when she’d turned fourteen. She tramped back over to Ari in a furious huff, tearing at her skirts. “What was that all about?”

“N-Nothing,” Ari was not having this conversation with Letitia. “How did the meeting go?”

“Ari,” Letitia said warningly, putting her hands on her hips and looming. 

Ari rubbed at her face. “It’s to do with Rolfe.”

Letitia looked at her for a second, disbelieving, before letting out an exasperated sigh and throwing her hands into the air. “Fine, then! You and Neo can keep your stupid secrets. I don’t want any part of them.”

Ari blinked at the real frustration in Letitia’s voice. “Letitia?”

Letitia let out a huff and dropped onto the bench, wrapping her arms about herself like she was cold. She looked genuinely miserable, Ari realized guiltily. 

She slowly approached and sat down next to the princess. “Did it go that badly?”

“The duchess is fine,” Letitia spat. “Fine and perfectly vapid. My uncles and aunts love her, of course.”

“Oh,” Ari said awkwardly. On impulse, she reached over and took the princess’s hand in both of her own, squeezing it gently. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Letitia looked at their joined hands blankly for a second, and Ari almost pulled away—but then the princess smiled, quiet and wan, and squeezed. “It’s alright.” She said tiredly. “Father and mother don’t really care who I marry, so they weren’t too disappointed when I turned the duchess down.”

Guilty relief rushed through Ari. “O-Oh. That’s...good.”

They were quiet for a second. 

“Want me to make the flowers grow?” Ari offered. 

“Oh, would you?” Letitia breathed out. Ari felt her chest clench; Letitia had never hesitated to ask her to use her magic before. She must really have been in a terrible mood. 

Ari nodded and lifted her hand. Something simple this time, she told herself. 

The clematis slowly reached from the ground around the bench and began climbing up Ari’s body, over her back and across her shoulders, flowering through her hair like a crown. The tiny white blooms danced in the evening wind, mesmerizing as a ballet dancer in flight.  

Letitia let out a quiet, contented sigh and leaned her head against Ari’s shoulder. 

The warmth lingered long after Letitia had finally gone. 

-0-

“Do you ever imagine a life beyond this palace?” Letitia asked, reaching toward the sky. 

Ari laughed, quiet and indulgent. “Letitia, you know I lived in the lower district before I came to work here.”

“Oh,” Letitia said, faintly embarrassed. “I—right. Of course.”

Then, as though admitting some deep secret, “Sometimes I forget you haven’t always been here.”

Ari blushed and looked away, pressing her hand to her warm cheek. Her blushes were never that obvious, but it didn’t stop them from occurring often. 

“Why do you always look away when you’re embarrassed?” Letitia asked impatiently, taking Ari’s wrist and pulling her around so she was facing forward again. “You’re cute when you blush. Don’t hide it.”

“Letitia!” Ari gasped, scandalized, turning an even brighter shade of red. 

“What?” Letitia said defiantly, tilting her nose upward. “I said it. I won’t take it back.”

Ari buried her face into her hands, too mortified to even attempt a response to that. This wasn’t happening. They’re not acknowledging this nebulous thing between them. This wasn’t happening. 

“...is it so bad?” Letitia asked, suddenly tentative, suddenly hesitant. “That I think you’re cute?”

“No!” Ari wheezed, batting at Letitia’s arm uselessly. “It’s fine! This is fine.”

Letitia let out a laugh, but there was a palpable note of relief and hysteria in it. 

Then she said, “Ari, are the flowers supposed to be doing that?”

Ari’s head jerked up, and she finally got a look at what her rampant magic was doing. Plants were growing, blooming, then dying a second later; fat fruit ripened and then dropped to the ground in rhythmic thuds. The floral scent intensified and rotted, intensified and rotted. 

Ari waved her hand, and the magic finally stopped. 

“No,” She said, even more mortified than before, if that was possible. “They’re not supposed to do that.”

Letitia let out a loud, wondering laugh, and then tentative, warm fingers laced through hers. Ari clutched at them desperately, biting back a wide grin. 

Letitia pinched Ari’s chin, her grin softening. “What have I told you about hiding?”