#scrolled all the way down in my inbox to this prompt from six years ago lmk if you're still out there anon

[erikahenningsen]

Janis and Regina as camp counsellors?

I.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

Janis is missing a camper.

"Lizzie!" she calls, but she gets no response. She scans the field where they've just finished a game of kickball, but sees the child nowhere.

She does see Regina standing off to the side, looking at her fingernails.

Regina, her "co-counselor," the bane of her existence.

"Regina, where's Lizzie?" Janis asks.

Regina looks up and shrugs. "I dunno."

Janis stares at her incredulously. "You were supposed to be watching them while I put away the equipment."

"Okay, well you were gone for, like, two minutes, so she couldn't have gone far," Regina says, looking completely and totally unconcerned.

It definitely took her longer than that, and the first stirrings of panic ignite in Janis's stomach.

"Lizzie!" she shouts again. "I can't believe you," she hisses at Regina. "You're gonna get us fired."

Regina rolls her eyes. "You are being so dramatic right now."

"Oooh," a couple of the kids say, giggling, picking up on the tension and apparently finding it amusing.

"LIZZIE! LIZ—"

"What?"

The child in question emerges from the wooded path that leads away from the field.

"Oh my god," Janis says in relief. "Where were you?"

"I had to go to the bathroom," Lizzie says.

"You know you're not supposed to go alone," Janis scolds, sending a harsh look Regina's way.

"Sorry," Lizzie says, and she seems sufficiently apologetic, so Janis lets it go.

"She could have gotten hurt," Janis tells Regina as the group leaves the field.

"Okay, well, she didn't, so..." Regina widens her eyes, like Janis is the one in the wrong here.

It takes all of her willpower, but Janis does not smack Regina over the head with her clipboard.

II.

Janis is walking a couple of campers back from the bathroom when she hears a shriek coming from the direction of the basketball court, where her group is playing four-square and drawing with chalk.

The shriek turns into loud crying, and when Janis reaches the blacktop, she sees one of her campers sitting on the ground, holding her leg. Regina is standing over her, expression pinched.

"It hurts," wails the camper. There's a scrape on her knee that's bleeding a little—nothing a band-aid can't fix, but kids that age see one drop of blood and think they're dying.

"Well, then you shouldn't run with your shoe untied," Regina says unsympathetically.

Janis frowns. "What's going on?"

"She tripped," Regina says with a roll of her eyes.

"So give her a band-aid," Janis says as she kneels next to the camper. "Hey, you're gonna be fine," she says. "It's not that bad."

"It's not?" the camper says, sniffling, and Janis shakes her head.

"I don't have a band-aid," Regina says.

Janis looks to Regina's waist, where the red first-aid fanny pack should be. Each group is supposed to have one. "Where's the first aid kit?"

Regina wrinkles her nose. "In the cabin. That thing is so ugly."

Janis stares at her in disbelief. "Well go get it!" she nearly shouts. One of the kids has an Epi-Pen in there that should be with them at all times.

"Jeez, relax," Regina says, holding up a hand. "You could have carried it, too."

"I already carry half this group's bags," Janis says indignantly. Their tiny arms and shoulders get tired so easily.

"Those things weigh, like, two pounds, but fine, I'll go get it," Regina says with a sigh, like she's doing Janis some huge favor. She turns on her heel and heads off in the direction of the cabins.

Janis fishes a tissue out of her pocket and presses it against the camper's knee in the meantime.

At least Regina will be out of her hair for fifteen minutes.

III.

Janis blinks awake to the distinct smell of weed.

She sits up as her eyes adjust to the dark. They're out in the middle of nowhere—it's either an older camper or someone who works here. She slips on her shoes and creeps out the door.

If it's a staff member—and it probably is—she is more than fine to mind her own business, but for her own conscience, Janis wants to make sure it isn't a camper.

Several feet away, Janis spots an orange glow off to the side of the cabin. When she approaches, she sees that it's—

Regina.

"You've got to be kidding me," Janis whispers as loud as she dares.

"Oh, hey," Regina says, unbothered.

"You're supposed to be inside," Janis snaps, abandoning minding her own business.

"They're asleep. What's the worst that could happen?" Regina says. She holds the joint out to Janis. "You really need to relax."

Janis glares at her. "Why are you even here? You obviously don't give a shit about the kids."

She stares at the joint for a moment before begrudgingly taking it. Free weed is free weed.

Regina exhales, smoke wafting around her. "My dad owns this camp, and he said I had to work here for a summer if he was going to pay for me to study abroad next semester."

Janis starts coughing, but not from the smoke. "Wait," she gasps out. "Your dad owns this camp?"

"Yeah," Regina says, like it should have been obvious. "What, did you think I was working here because I wanted to?"

Well, Regina certainly doesn't act like she wants to be here, so Janis guesses that makes sense. Then it dawns on her that this could actually be to her advantage.

"So, the next time you don't watch the kids, or a kid gets hurt, I can just go to your dad and say you're not doing your job?" Janis asks, casual tone veiling her threat.

To her surprise, Regina just laughs as she takes the joint back.

"Of course not," she says, then takes a final drag before dropping it in the dirt and crushing it with her shoe. "Nothing is ever my fault. If a parent complains, he'll fire you, not me."

Regina pats Janis on the cheek with a serene smile and walks back to the cabin. Janis stands there for a moment in disbelief, then reaches down and picks up the butt and throws it into the woods so no kids find it. Her cheek tingles where Regina had touched her.

Maybe she should just quit.

[ravenforce]

Ithaca Pt. 2

Word Count: 2031

Warning/s: None

A/N: Hey loves, a deal is a deal. You got part one to over a hundred notes, so here’s part two. Natasha’s playing a huge part on this arc. So, I thought it’ll be good for you to get to know her in this alternate universe. Let me know what you think of it in my inbox or the comment section. Xx

PS. If there are any grammatical mistakes I’ve still overlooked, I apologize.

Parts: 1 | 3 | 4 | 5

***

5:30 AM

The alarm clock on Natasha’s bedside table reads. She blinked twice at it before sighing. She woke up earlier than her alarm again, not that she’s actually excited to go to school. Today, she’s actually supposed to tour the new transfer student, which is, by the way, is not her job as the Student Council President but Clint is out of commission for the week for some Intercollegiate archery competition in Washington DC. So, as President, she had to step in and do it.

‘At least, this is gonna be different from yesterday’, she thought to herself as she rolls out of bed.

Living in Ithaca since she’s a child meant Natasha knew the city like the back of her hand, knew almost every single family in town and went to school with the same kids since the beginning of her existence. It also meant being friends with founding family kids like the Odinsons, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, and Steve Rogers since forever ago. She was the only girl in their group until Carol Danvers moved in when they were eight. Maria transferred to their school and was easily adapted to their crew when they were thirteen. The last addition to their gang was Valkyrie and Wanda, who migrated somewhere from Europe when they’re fifteen.

Six years after, a new person arrives in Ithaca. The school didn’t give her a lot of information regarding the new student, only that it is a woman and Stark level intelligent. She tried to dig up info on her own, and thankfully she didn’t have to go far for a source since apparently the new girl is close friends with Tony and best friends with Maria. Maria is one busy nerd to track down though, and they don’t share a lot of classes together. So, Natasha wasn’t able to get too many details from her aside from a departing comment.

“Relax, Nat. She’s amazing; smart but not obnoxious like Tony,” Maria said before practically running towards her next class. She considers herself pretty intrigued.

‘How can someone be as smart as Tony and not be obnoxious? That sounds like an oxymoron,’ Natasha thought to herself.

***

6:00 AM

Natasha is the only founding family kid who liked being awake at the wee hours of the morning. She likes getting ahead of everybody, and she thinks better when the world is still asleep. So, being in school at the crack of dawn isn’t new too for anyone. Even the groundskeepers let her nowadays.

“Good Morning, Miss Romanoff,” the old security lady at the studio greeted her. 

“Good Morning, Mrs. Miller,” Natasha smiled before logging in her credentials. 

“Early start today?” Mrs. Miller asked politely and jovially. 

“Yes, Clint is away for a tournament. So I have to give the grounds tour to the transfer student later,” Nat explained with a smile. Mrs. Miller didn’t respond and just waved Natasha inside.

Natasha’s been doing ballet ever since she can remember. At first, she was doing it because her family wanted her to and all of the founding family children are doing one extracurricular activity every after school. Thor has been sailing since he learned how to walk, Loki, on the other hand, preferred fencing. Clint tried equestrian for awhile but his heart and talents were really in archery. Steve got so good in lacrosse that he ended up with a sports scholarship playing one. Tony chose chess because he deemed contact sports barbaric; he believes the battle of the wits is better than a physical brawl, which Steve always take as an offense. 

Being the only girl in their group, Natasha decided that ballet is her yoga. The boys know not to come within a hundred yards of the studio whenever Natasha’s practicing. Ballet has become Natasha’s sanctuary away from the noise and the usual ruckus of the boys. She shed everything inside the studio but today, Natasha finds it nearly impossible to focus on the movements and the music. Her thoughts keep drifting to the conversation she had with Tony the day prior about the new student. 

“Nat, what are you fuzzing about? It’s just a school tour,” Tony complained. He was tinkering around his home lab when Natasha arrived and being a regular visitor, she was allowed to roam and look for Tony herself. 

“I just wanna know what she looks like. So I know who to look for in the morning crowd,” she whined. 

Tony put his stuff down, pull the safety goggles off his face and looked at his friend. If Nat has been any other girl, she would have melted in the way Tony was looking at her. 

“Oh, trust me, you won’t miss her,” Tony said simply before smiling and walking out of his lab. “She’s breathtaking, in more ways than just physical.”

Natasha groaned and scrambled to follow her friend and bug him for more information.

***

7:00 AM

Natasha cut her practice short since she couldn’t focus. She showered and got ready in record time. She was leaning against the handrail of the front steps of the school, scrolling through her Instagram feed when she looked up and saw a face she didn’t know. Her fingers hovered over her phone mid-swipe, thankfully she had enough grace at that moment not to have her mouth hanging open as she gaped at the transfer student. She’s wearing a very preppy outfit, which wasn’t really Natasha’s style or the style girls she usually goes after but something about this girl that makes her stomach flutter with nervous butterflies.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” she asked, all trace of her nervousness gone when the girl came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s asking?” the girl asked.

Natasha watched the girl take her in. She reined in the urge to squirm under the Y/N’s eyes. For God’s sake, she’s Natasha Romanoff. Various girls all over town wants her, she’s by no means gonna squirm under a stranger’s beautiful eyes.  

“Natasha Romanoff. Student Council President,” she introduced herself confidently to take back control. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Natasha smirked as the new girl blushed profusely before smiling up at her. “Pleasure is all mine,” she said.

‘Breathtaking is an understatement’ she thought to herself when she saw Y/N’ smile. Natasha’s not a sap, she doesn’t plan on being one but at that moment, she thought she’d do anything to make you smile at her every day.

“I’m here to give you the grounds tour,” Natasha explained before pulling the door open and prompting you to walk with her.

Usually, when she had to cover grounds tour for Clint, Natasha almost always wraps it up under forty-five minutes. She just points which buildings houses which classes, where the important areas are such as the library and the mess hall. Today, with you by her side, Natasha found herself giving her first, in-depth school tour. Literally giving out facts and even stupid trivia when she remembers it.

Natasha walked as leisurely as possible to prolong her time with you but she knew you have a 9 AM class. And she might not be as nerdy as Tony but she’s not gonna skip class, let alone make you on your first day of school.

***

8:30 AM

Natasha’s one of the quiet ones in her crew that’s why she get along spectacularly with Maria. Both of you filled the walk towards the art building with polite small talk about which classes you two take, how you finished a degree at eighteen and in one of the toughest schools in the country at that, and how you’re friends with Maria and Tony. God, Natasha didn’t want the tour to end. She didn’t want you to stop talking, which is new because Natasha finds it annoying when people don’t know when to shut up. She wants to get to know you more.

Her heart sunk a little when she caught you discreetly glancing at your watch but by the number of kids watching the two of you in the hallway, she knew that class is fast approaching. She decided to be a little playful.

“Oh,” Natasha gasped and frowned. “Am I boring you?” she asked quietly.

“What?!” you exclaimed, earning a few curious looks from students in the hallway.

Natasha watched the emotions play out across your face, and she thought you’re even more fascinating. She’s been friends all her life with Tony, another Mensa student, another genius. She thought you’d be obnoxiously cool and a little indifferent like him but in the past hour and a half, Natasha found you brilliant but not condescending, warm, and empathetic.

“No, no, you’re not boring. I was just wondering if I’m allowed to skip the first period on my first day of school because this is by far the coolest school tour I’ve ever done,” you rambled on.

Natasha couldn’t help but grin. If she paid attention to anyone else other than you, she would have noticed several students openly gawking at the toothy smile on her face. Natasha’s reputation was not built on being chummy with just anyone, especially new kids. But she wasn’t looking, she could only look at you. She will be caught dead before she admits to having a school girl crush at first meet but at that moment, in that crowded hallway, she decided she definitely likes you. She just has to find out if she has a fighting chance.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” she said matter-of-factly. “And no, you’re not allowed to skip the first period because you’re here.”

“Oh,” you said before glancing at the classroom door.

Natasha took a step towards you and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “See you later, Y/L/N,” she said slowly, watching the blush crept up from your neck before dusting your cheeks.

‘Beautiful, so beautiful,’ she thought before turning on her heels and gracefully walking away.

“Blushing doesn’t mean she’s gay. Maybe she’s just the shy type, I can work with that,” she murmured to herself while walking to her classroom. She looked up when she heard soft muttering in front of her.

“Danvers!” she growled. Carol’s pressing a girl between her toned body and the wall.

Carol didn’t even have to look to know who it is that interrupted her. She knows that voice anywhere. “Tasha,” she said sweetly.

Natasha didn’t smile, she only continued to glare until the girl pushed Carol away and scrambled to get to her classroom. Carol swipe a hand through her hair before turning towards her friend. Natasha glanced at her watch.

“You’re ten minutes late already,” Nat started. “And your class is on the other side of the campus.”

Carol ignored the fact that Natasha still knows her schedule. She walked towards the redhead until she’s toe to toe with Natasha. Natasha didn’t step back, she’s used to Carol always invading her personal space.

“I got that class in the bag, Tasha. Relax,” Carol whispered before leaning in, kissing Natasha close to her mouth, and running away.  

[banshee-cheekbones]

title: seasons change (but people don’t) [ao3: here]

main pairing: Malia/Kira

rating: G

word count: ~2300 words

written for: for the Femslash Big Bang April Monthly Challenge (where the prompt was ‘changes’), for the ‘social media au’ square on my Teen Wolf Rare Character Bingo card, and for the following prompt sent to me a few months ago by the lovely @veronicabunch: 

"Kira/Malia + "oh god, oh no, oh shit, oh fuck." "um. excuse me, are you okay?" "do I look okay? my life is a mess."

summary: The one where Malia hates airports but is willing to brave the chaos so that she can finally meet Kira in person

Given the choice between spending four hours in a cage full of rabid wolves and spending four hours standing in the middle of an airport, Malia would choose the former every single time.

Even though she’s never flown before, which means she’s bypassed the parts of travelling that people seem to really enjoy whining about, airports are still a test of patience that she just doesn’t have. There’s too much noise, too much movement, too much damn chaos. Children screaming at the top of their lungs, families standing dumb in the middle of the hallways and causing a traffic jam as they peer down at a smartphone, constant announcements overhead, constant rushes of people racing to catch a flight, the wheels of their bags rattling on the tiled floors; it’s all just so much.

If it was anyone else she was picking up at the airport, even if it was her own family, she’d do the same thing she’s been doing for years: she’d make them come to her, meet her in the parking lot outside the arrivals gate.

But this isn’t just her family. This is her girlfriend.

This is Kira.

She’s never met Kira in person, even though they’ve been talking for almost a year and a half and dating for a little over six months. They met online in a discussion board for young musicians that Malia had been frequenting since middle school, when she’d first fallen in love with playing the drums. She’d been scrolling through the board one day before class when she’d come across a new thread posted by a user named foxfire, asking for advice on what drumsticks would be best for someone with absolutely no experience. Malia had jumped in with advice honed from years of users asking the exact same question and, looking back, it was possible that she’d been a little terse, a little snippy.

Okay, she'd been a lot snippy.

But, to her surprise, her response had been followed up with a private message that revealed that, while foxfire didn’t have experience with the drums, they did have musical training that was on the more classical end of the spectrum. That was followed by a few more specific questions that were follow-ups to the information Malia had provided in her response.

Malia had let the message percolate in her inbox for a few days before she finally answered.

Kira had responded only hours later.

Eventually, once their conversation began to veer away from topics unrelated to music, Malia had sent Kira a link to her blog. They’d followed each other and continued talking, leaving comments and likes on each other’s personal posts.

(It was around that time that Malia had received a number of anonymous messages that were all along the lines of you are so amazing!

She’d brought it up to Kira once, later, once they’d moved to Skype and started talking face to face, or the closest thing to it, and while Kira had denied it, her face had been scarlet as she’d done so, and that had given Malia all the answer she’d needed.)

Eventually, barely an hour went by without them talking to each other. It was easy to forget that they hadn’t been best friends since childhood, so long as Malia didn’t think about the thousands of miles between them.

It’d been Kira who brought up becoming something more, one late night while they were Skyping. Kira had been lying on her side in bed in an oversized sweater, loose tendrils of hair falling from her face, breaking out into yawns every so often. Just when Malia had been ready to hang up and let Kira get some sleep, Kira had snuggled deeper into her pillow and murmured seven words.

“You know, my friends think we’re dating.”

“They do?” Malia asked, feeling herself smiling. “Would that be so bad?” She’d meant it as a joke, something to make Kira blush a little; her own friends had been bugging her about the same thing for months, and Malia would have been lying if she said she hadn’t thought about a few times. If it wasn’t for the sheer distance between them, she would have already asked.

Even with the pixelation of the screen, it’d been easy to see the red flush that had spread across Kira’s cheeks, but instead of simply changing the subject, she’d shaken her head and smiled.

“No. I’d like that, actually.”

Kira’s smile had been contagious. Malia felt like an idiot for how quickly a matching grin spread across her face, but there’d been no stopping it even if she had wanted to.

“Yeah. Me too.”

And now, here she is, waiting in what is possibly the most chaotic environment she’s ever stepped foot in, and Kira’s flight was supposed to arrive twenty minutes ago, but there’s absolutely no sign of her, and every time Malia looks up at the multiple screens scattered around the arrivals area, she just ends up more confused.

If she doesn’t figure something out soon, Kira’s first day with her is going to be a disaster.

“Oh God,” she mutters, stepping backwards to avoid getting run over by an entire family with a massive amount of luggage. “Shit. Fuck."

"Excuse me. Are you okay?"

Malia whips around and expects to find herself staring at a TSA agent, ready to escort her out of the airport for loitering. Instead, she’s met with a man who looks to be her own age, frowning softly with concern, noticeably not carrying any luggage.

“Do I look okay?” she snaps, shoving a chunk of hair away from her face. “My girlfriend’s flight was already supposed to be here, and I have no idea where I’m supposed to wait for her, or if her flight has been delayed, or what is happening. This place is a fucking nightmare.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty confusing,” the man agrees. “My girlfriend isn’t getting in for another half hour. I can help you find your gate, if you want?”

Malia raises an eyebrow. Airports don’t seem like the kind of environment to breed kindness, just panic and stress. “You sure?”

“Yeah! I could have used some guidance the first time I had to pick someone up here. Do you know her flight information?” Malia has screencaps of all the information about Kira’s flights, both her arriving and departing ones, and she brings the photos up, keeping an iron grip on her phone with one hand, just in case this whole offer to help turns out to be a play to try and steal her phone.

Thankfully, the guy makes no attempt to do so. He simply peers at Malia’s screen and nods once before he looks up at one of the huge screens dotting the cavernous room. The scrolling text still looks like gibberish to Malia, but he must find something useful in it, because he nods again and points across the vast room.

“They must have changed her gate for some reason,” he says. “Her plane just landed at gate 12. If we move fast, you should be able to catch her just as she gets out.”

“Lead the way,” Malia says, shoving her phone back in her pocket and taking off across the room at her fastest walk. The guy quickly catches up to her, keeps pace without a struggle (which is a feat, she’s been told.)

“I’m Scott, by the way,” he says, right before he effortlessly steps around a couple who are taking a selfie for some godforsaken reason.

“Malia,” she responds. She momentarily debates on sticking her hand out so he can shake it, but that would just slow them down too much, so she settles for a quick nod. “Do you give complimentary tours of this place often?”

“Honestly, pretty much every time I’m here,” he replies with an easy laugh. “My girlfriend travels a lot for business, so I’m usually here at least once a month to pick her up. There’s always someone who needs the help while I wait.”

“The airport should start paying you.”

“Maybe one day,” he says, laughing again. He slows slightly, pulling his phone from his pocket, and his lips crinkle into a frown. “Speaking of my girlfriend, looks like they got in a little early. Do you mind if I-”

“Go for it,” Malia answers, slowing to a stop, even though every nerve in her body demands that she keeps going, that she get to Kira as soon as she can. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem!” Scott flashes her a beaming grin before he points ahead, the way they were going. “Gate 12 is just a little further. You can’t miss it.” With that, he turns on his heel and starts easily threading his way back through the crowd, moving against the stream. Malia doesn’t waste much time looking after him; one of the speakers over her head blares an announcement, and while she can only half hear it over the hubbub, she does catch the words gate 12, which means she needs to move if she doesn't want to leave Kira waiting.

By the time she reaches the gate, her stomach is cramping with nerves, and there’s sweat gathering on the back of her neck. She hasn’t felt this nervous in literally years, and the feeling is so overwhelming that she kind of wants to vomit. All the questions, the negative thoughts, that she’s been trying to keep at bay since the day Kira officially bought her tickets to come visit, have rushed up into an overwhelming deluge that she can’t even begin to handle.

The doors connecting the gate to the tunnel leading to the plane open, and a group of passengers start making their way out agonizingly slowly. Even though she has a relatively clear line of sight, Malia still can’t help leaning up onto her toes, searching for Kira.

Her whole body feels jittery. Her heartbeat is pounding in her ears. With every second that passes by without Kira emerging from the tunnel, Malia’s stomach inches further and further up her throat.

Just when she’s ready to find the nearest garbage can, Malia sees her.

She’s one of the last people off the plane, wheeling a carry-on suitcase that’s patterned with red and blue elephants. Her sleek black hair is pulled into two braids that dangle down over her shoulders, and she’s dressed for comfort, in a pair of leggings, neon-orange sneakers and an oversized zip-up hoodie that reaches almost to her knees.

She’s the most beautiful person Malia has ever seen.

Her heart takes the place of her stomach, hovering in the base of her throat.

Kira’s face crinkles with concern as she scans the area, but before Malia can call out her name, Kira finds her, and her face illuminates from within. She smiles wide, and she starts jogging forward, suitcase bouncing along behind her.

Malia means to say something cool, something nonchalant that doesn’t make her sound completely gone on Kira; she doesn’t want to be too obvious, after all. She thinks that maybe a simple hey would be a good place to start.

But before she can open her mouth, she realizes that Kira is about to jump on her, and Malia barely has the foresight to open her arms before Kira crashes into her hard enough to make Malia rock back on her feet. She immediately wraps her arms tight around Kira’s slim waist, just as Kira threads her arms tight around Malia’s neck, tight enough to almost cut off Malia’s breath.

For a moment, they don’t say anything. They don’t move. They simply stay like that, wrapped up in each other, Kira’s toes just barely skimming the ground, mostly held up by Malia’s arms. Malia’s face is tucked into the spot where Kira’s neck meets her shoulder, and every single time that she breathes in, all she can smell is Kira, the floral scent of her shampoo and clean sweat and a hint of fabric softener. When she shifts, her nose drags over the curve of Kira’s neck, and Malia tightens her arms further, until it doesn’t feel like even air could worm its way between them.

She’d known, objectively, how amazing it would be to have Kira in front of her, to be able to actually touch and see her. But knowing that had in no way prepared her for how simply amazing the reality is, how amazing it is to feel Kira’s heart beating in her throat, to feel the simple human warmth of her, to feel her squeeze her arms around Malia’s neck.

It’s infinitely more real and more wonderful than she could have imagined in her wildest dreams.

“You’re here,” she mumbles, moving back slightly when Kira wiggles in her arms. She doesn’t end up far; once their foreheads are touching, Kira locks her arms around Malia’s neck, keeping her from moving back any further. “You’re actually here. In front of me.” Kira nods rapidly, a quiet laugh slipping from between her lips, which are still parted in the brightest smile Malia has ever seen.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, dark brown eyes sparkling with wetness. “I am.” For a moment, it looks like she might say something further, but instead, she leans forward and presses her lips against Malia’s. It’s firmer than Malia expects, but she quickly reciprocates in kind, wrapping her fingers in the back of Kira’s hoodie, biting back a moan when Kira’s fingers twist into the hair falling against the nape of her neck.

Malia can’t believe that she ever thought seeing Kira in person, actually meeting her, would somehow make things different between them, would be awkward and complicated, would change things for the worse.

Things have definitely changed between them; all she needs is one kiss to know that.

But it’s the most natural change of her life, as normal and fluid as switching from inhaling to exhaling and, just like breathing, she has no intentions on stopping, on letting Kira go, anytime soon.