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lizzieraindrops · 3 years

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Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eris Morn/Ikora Rey Characters: Eris Morn, Ikora Rey Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hello destiny sapphics; allow me to introduce myself, Femslash, if nobody is going to write the content i want to see then i will create it myself, listen. it's about perceiving the weak and wounded places in someone you love, and lavishing love and care upon them even when they won't admit they need it, it's about the Mutual Support, it's about being kind to them even when you don't know how to be kind to yourself, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, oh and ikora has the most Distinguished Bisexual energy i've ever seen so jot that down, it doesn't come up but you needed to know, this is all just a bunch of softness and tenderness don't @ me okay

Summary:

Five storms Eris and Ikora weathered and one they didn't need to.

The Shadowkeep weblore lives in my head rent free. Set post-Taken King and mostly during Shadowkeep.

“As I told Asher, there is a storm coming...” “Oryx is dead. We’ve weathered the storm.” Ikora is upset. She has yet to understand the bigger picture. “Yet his sisters would see his will done. There will always be another storm.” “Then let’s weather it together.” -Shadowkeep Narrative Preview #1

Many thanks to @hencegoodfortune for the beta read and of course for the memes.

Chapter: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 |

Set just after The Taken King.

Eris knows she is not in the Hellmouth. Although the Tower has never felt the same since her ordeal on Luna, she recognizes it easily nonetheless. At every moment, the freshness of the open air reminds her that she is here, she is on Earth. She has been for some time now.

However, she has never forgotten how to move like a ribbon through the darkness, arcing undetected round predator and prey alike. She doubts that she ever will. Sometimes the habit returns of its own accord, and she’ll find her feet and hands floating weightless as she moves. Joints and muscle and sinew flex in careful concert to absorb every sound before it is made. The lines of lightly tensed limbs spiral seamlessly into the coiled core of her, tethering her in perfect silence. At the same time, she remains ever ready to fight, ready to flee. How often has Eris’ last, Lightless life lay along the knife’s edge of a split-second choice, the divergence between action and stillness, vengeance or survival?

Somehow, the smooth stone of the Tower’s level floors is harder to walk quietly on than the rough winding warrens through Luna’s porous rock. There are no edges to test with the edge of her boot, no uneven surface to ease her soles onto by swift and silent increments. There is only the unsubtle strike of heels on a flat, unforgiving surface. She makes the most of it, as every Hunter here does. Still, it leaves her uneasy. Her feet cannot quite keep to the ground.

Consequently, she often finds herself pacing, wandering from her post in the heart of the Tower whenever she grows restless. Every step falls lighter than the last, chasing silence in a meditation on weightlessness. It does not make her feel any better.

After so long underground, she is unaccustomed to the plenitude of open space here. While she has traced much of the Tower’s perimeters, the negative spaces in the centers of broad rooms and vaulted halls she leaves less frequented. She is too exposed there.

Yet maybe she is less affected by the empty space than the sheer number of souls that so often fill it. After so long so alone, they are simply so many, pressing at her survival-sharpened awareness from every angle. Not to mention she attracts too many of their stares in the crowded plazas. Although detection here is not followed by shrieking howls or the lightning strike of boomers, distrustful eyes still make her hunger for shelter. The choice to endure or to withdraw still needs to be be made. And whether well-meaning or ill-intentioned, a close approach still makes her instinctively recoil.

Eris has scraped out a place for herself here, lingering close enough to share with those who will listen the knowledge she has gained at a terrible price. But it has been made clear enough that she does not belong here anymore, not as she once did. If the condemnation of the Speaker and the only begrudging trust of the Vanguard’s Commander were not enough to tell her that, then the wary regard of most of the Tower’s populace would. So she holds herself back, toward the edges of things. It is difficult to do so at her station so near the Hall of Guardians, the greatest locus of Guardian activity on the planet. She draws herself to her full height and stands there proud, but never takes the ground she stands on for granted. When it becomes too much, like now, she paces.

This time, her pacing has led her to the edge of the Tower where her ship was once tethered. With how wary she has grown of exposed spaces, the open sky above that lays bare every courtyard and balcony should send her seeking cover - and yet, it does not. If anything, its incomprehensibly vast expanse calls to her. Strange.

Eris has traversed the spaces between planets with her own fragile body, with only a ship’s hull to keep the cold from swallowing what remains of her. Yet from Earth’s surface, a few mere miles of atmosphere transforms that emptiness, and its beauty holds her spellbound. It scatters sun into prismatic slices of light. The stars’ unblinking gaze softens into a flutter of eyelashes. No longer can she see the narrow spectrum of colors that humans evolved to discern; it has all faded into endless shades of the same hue. But the contrast of such brightnesses against the dark have become sharper than ever. Indeed, daylight has become a blaze to truly blind her. These stolen eyes of hers were made instead for depths and shadows.

Even so, she often finds herself staring out into the searing sky until her head aches. The sensations make her remember. She is no longer buried beneath stone, lost to this cosmos. She is free now, in some ways.

Eventually, her wanderings bring her back to the shaded refuge beneath the stairs just outside the Hall of Guardians. She is glad for this, too. Her station provides some small respite for her sensitive, ever-weeping eyes. And there she stays, until exhaustion drives her to rest, or else grief or fear or restlessness or her ever-smoldering rage drive her to pacing once again.

It’s true that many other eyes pass by that shadowed alcove of hers. Guardians constantly sweep in and out on either side of her, running and jumping and gliding up and down the stairs with urgent reports and important orders and burning questions for the Vanguard. They are so bright. Few of them spare a glance for her, these days, save for startled new Lights.

There are a few, though, who look upon her not with distrust or fear or begrudging tolerance, but with recognition. Once in a great while, cousin Asher will grace her with his inimitable company. It gladdens her heart, even when he merely stops to exchange research notes or brief insults. He cleaves to his research with a passionate vengeance, as does she. Unlike most, he pays more attention to her knowledge and her current work than her past. With the way he helped care for her in the months after her escape from Luna, she has come to hold him in close confidence.

On occasion, her friend the Guardian, who avenged her fireteam upon the very souls of Crota and Oryx, stops to greet her. Sometimes they bring her news from Luna or Mars. Words are few with that one lately, though. These days, their outgoing ghost is the one who relays whatever tidings they carry. The change leaves a cold shadow over Eris’ heart. Therefore, she values their quiet presence all the more. She fears for them.

Of course, Ikora’s is the kind regard she is subject to most often. Eris has never forgotten that Ikora believed her since the beginning. Most met her genuine warnings of inbound danger from the Hive with distrust, dismissal, or fear. Ikora not only listened, but met her with endless kindness. Even now, as the Warlock Vanguard steps into nearer chamber of the Hall for a brief consultation with Lord Shaxx, she spares a moment and a smile for Eris.

Ikora’s smile has always been warm and real and reassuring, a balm on the fibers of frayed nerves. Among the very few who welcomed Eris back to Earth, that smile was a signal of genuine care and safety that she homed in on immediately. The one directed at Eris now is subtle, a mere quirk of the lips. Yet it hints at the vast depths of passion and compassion below the surface, like a ripple that disappears swiftly on the surface of a deep, deep pool.

Ikora’s outward cool composure that obscures that intensity is not a façade. It is more an ingenius piece of architecture, a mighty aqueduct capable of holding and channelling the endless font of her inner immensities. It is an elegant and functional work of art well-kept and expanded over centuries.

The warmth that must be behind such a small yet genuine smile is palpable; it falls on Eris like the creeping warmth of sunlight, sinking in deep even though it scarcely touches her skin. Even the lower half of her face, where her many layers do not shield her from long-lost Sol, is still sallow and nearly as grayed as the dust of Luna. She hadn’t known at first, with the changes to her vision, not until Asher had told her. He never does shy away from the speaking of truth. In those endless years of darkness, the lack of light and loss of Light took something from Eris, sapped something vital, and left something strange in its place.

Yet Eris can feel the sun again, now. She can walk out into the courtyard at any time of day, find a south-facing wall to lean on, and bask in the radiating warmth like an ectothermic reptile.

Even without leaving the cool shadows of her post, another warmth still reaches her. Ikora offers her one more smile as she goes to return to her own station. Eris stands a little taller under the aegis of her regard, her spine the stem of a sunflower lifting her toward its steady kindness.

Eris takes not a single one of these boons for granted. Each one is a precious gift far beyond what she ever expected to experience again, after her descent into the Hellmouth. Yet none of it can quell her restlessness, for it springs from the same source as her gratefulness. It always comes back to what happened to her on Luna.

Each time she returns to her pacing, the Tower feels a little smaller. The scope of the sky distracts her for a shorter time. Now, even after her sworn vengeance upon the Hive has been fulfilled twice over in double deicide, the path of her vow still pulls her feet forward. She does not know where its shrouded course leads, only that there is still a threat yet to be met along it. More and more, she is certain that she cannot wait here to meet it, or it will be too late.

However, she never expected to leave behind wounds when she leaves. After she departs to sight the next storm on the horizon, she is haunted as often by the surprised hurt that she left in Ikora’s eyes as by the memory of her smile.

#eris morn #ikora rey #destiny 2 #eris/ikora #erikora #ikoris #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #lizzie's adventures in writing #destinewt #long post #fic #HELLO I AM FINALLY HERE WITH THE FEMSLASH #apologies if i misled you with the o14 this is actually my usual abode #it's mostly written so look out for updates soon!#happy season drop have some sapphics #it's a beautiful day in a non-femslash-focused fandom and you are a terrible little lesbian here to cause problems on purpose #please talk to me about these ladies i love them so much #; ;

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even-after-a-millennia · 3 years

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my heart (and lungs) ache for you

Femslash Fortnight: Tuesday - Hanahaki disease AU

For those of you that haven't read a Hanahaki disease AU before, the basic premise is that unrequited love makes flowers bloom in your lungs and they will kill you if you don't tell the person that you love them or if they don't return your feelings. You can get surgery to remove the flowers, but it also takes your feelings for that person away, so many people don't go that route. The flowers usually have meaning, same in this fic, and the meanings are at the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy!

This was written for Femslash Fortnight, hosted by @tog-femslashfortnight

You can read this fic down below or over on my Ao3 account here.

Yusuf and Nicolò burst into Quynh and Andromache’s cell, covered in blood and ready to spill more, to find a lone woman slumped against the wall.

She looked up at them, her eyes dead.

“It’s too late,” she croaked.

Their eyes widened as they took in her words. The blood on her wrists, the floor. The lack of their other sister.

“...Quynh?” Yusuf asked, his voice quivering. They are both shaking in front of her, the adrenaline of their fighting crashing in the worst possible way.

“Gone,” Andromache said, her voice twisted and broken. “And… that’s not all.”

She coughed and a bloody flower falls from her lips.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch as all she had revealed sunk in.

She far preferred the darkness found behind her eyelids than the reality in front of her.

___________________________________

Andy had died two hundred and forty-nine times from the disease in her lungs by the time that Nile joined her group. While her body reset with every death, whether it had to do with Hanahaki or not, the flowers always came back. A bitter reminder of the one she had lost.

The first time she coughed up a petal around Nile, they were eating their first meal altogether. Nile’s eyes were darting around, unsure where to look. Joe and Nicky had told their story, so had Booker. Nile asked her how old Andy was. Her chest tightened and she put down her bowl. The men at the table knew what was coming, but Andy still saw Nicky’s brow furrow as she began to cough. He had been to college multiple times for medicine, trying to find a way to alleviate her pain. There was nothing he could do. Not anything, not without Quynh there. And though they had searched for her until they had almost lost themselves, there was no sign of the iron coffin that had become her tomb.

Nile stared at Andy, then the bloody petal in her hand.

“Better get used to it, kid, it isn’t something that can be fixed,” Andy said.

Joe winced and Booker handed Andy his flask. She took it and chugged a mouthful, hoping the taste of carnations would be washed away.

She’d had countless kinds of flowers emerge from her chest over the centuries: pink camellias, forget-me-nots, salvias, yarrow… the list went on. Eventually, she stopped looking up their meanings.

They all came down to this: Andy loved Quynh to this day, and she ached to have her back by her side.

“Is it… not requited?” Nile asked tentatively.

Andy snorted.

“Not in the traditional sense,” Nicky said, taking the responsibility of answering. “Andy’s wife is unable to return her love and that is why she is still sick.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Tell her about when you two idiots both had it,” Booker said, and Andy looked at him and sent him silent thanks.

Joe smiled, his eye wrinkles out in their full glory. “This is years after the Crusades, and one morning, I wake up with heliotropes dripping from my lips. I didn’t want to tell Nicky, so I hid them from him.”

“Little did he know that earlier that day, before he had woke, I had coughed up violet petals,” Nicky said, smiling over at his husband.

“Stupidity ensued,” Booker said with a small grin.

“Until one day we both coughed in front of one another and noticed the flowers. It took a while for us both to admit our feelings. Didn’t help that I was angry at the idea that someone out there didn’t love Nicky back,” Joe said, laughing.

“Only for us to realize that we had both thought our love to be unrequited when in reality, it very much was,” Nicky said.

Andy shook her head, taking another swig of Booker’s flask before handing it back.

“Idiots,” she said with a small smile.

_______________________________

Her shoulder wasn’t healing.

Her fingers came away red after she brushed them over the stab wound. It was partially healed, but still bleeding sluggishly. She quickly left the mine and went to the nearest town.

She grabbed all the first aid supplies she could think she would need. It had been a long fucking time since she had needed to patch herself up after a fight, but she had done field medicine on others, on mortals, much more recently.

In the end, she didn’t need to. In her six thousand years of life, Andy had somehow forgotten about the kindness of strangers.

“We also have cough drops, if you would like,” the woman, Celeste, said as she helped Andy put on her coat again.

“Thank you. That would be good.”

Andy got back to her car and shut the door behind her. Her lungs were burning, but she didn’t let herself cough. She had died on the killing room floor just a few days ago, so she had a while before the disease got bad again. A few petals here and there, then full flowers, until she was unable to breathe around the growth in her lungs. The longest she had made it from the beginnings of the disease to her inevitable death was nine months.

When she was immortal, that had hardly mattered.

Now though…

Now she was running out of time.

__________________________________

“Hey, if they can examine the Hanahaki in your lungs, they might be able to find a way to stop it. And I can finally move on and be with my family. It could work out for both of us.”

Her side bled and bled and bled.

“Oh, Book.” There were tears clogging her throat, petals right behind them.

“What have you done?”

_________________________________

Bloody flowers fell from Andy’s lips.

“Fuck.”

The sentiment was echoed around their safe house.

Nile, Joe, and Nicky were all staring and trying not to stare as Andy went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea to soothe her throat.

She had been drinking a lot of tea these days. And taking a lot of naps. And sleeping in general. When she was awake, she felt lethargic. She had bruised her ribs from coughing so much and her throat was constantly inflamed.

It had been seven months since they had left Booker at that pub. Andy felt twinges of emotion about it daily, though the emotion itself changed constantly. Grief, anger, understanding, betrayal, sadness. They all flowed through her.

Nile’s phone rang.

“Hello?” she asked, her voice curious but guarded. “Book? WHAT?!”

They all focused on her.

She looked up, directly at Andy.

“Quynh got out of the coffin. She’s been recovering with Book for a month,” Nile said, her eyes filling with tears.

Her smile made them spill over, it was so big and full of hope.

“She wants to see you again.”

“Andy,” Nicky said gently, ever the voice of reason, “if you see her and she doesn’t return your love, it will accelerate the disease. You will die in days, not weeks.”

Andy nodded, glad of the fact that no mention of surgery was mentioned. Surgically taking out the flowers inside Andy’s lungs would remove the disease, but also remove her ability to love Quynh anymore.

And that really wasn’t an option for Andy.

“I’ll risk it. At least…” she trailed off, her thoughts too private to be spoken.

At least I’ll die having seen her again.

By the looks on her family’s faces, split between fear and hope, they knew what she had thought anyways.

_______________________________

They went to France. Marseille, specifically, and Andy let herself be glad that Booker had gone to his home city. It gave her hope for him.

They let themselves into the safe house, Nile insisting on going first.

“I don’t think it is a trap, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t be smart about this,” she said.

Andy knew that Joe, Nicky, and Nile were all carrying a small army’s worth of weaponry, but she hadn’t bothered. She would live or she would die, one way or another, and she did not want to raise a weapon against Quynh in her final moments.

They entered, the others scanning the room for threats. But there was only Booker, slouched into himself as usual.

“Hey. She’s right through-”

“Andromache…” whispered the voice Andy hadn’t heard in five hundred years.

Her eyes snapped to the source and there stood Quynh in black skinny jeans and a deep red sweater, her eyes flinty as she looked at them.

Her smile wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cruel. “Hello, my love.”

Andy felt something building in her chest and she sprinted to the nearest garbage can, and coughed and coughed and coughed. Petals and buds and flowers came pouring out of her lungs. She felt a soft hand on her back, soothing her through the pain, but she couldn’t tell who it was.

The final carnation fell from her lips and she slumped over the trash can.

She heaved a breath, the first that didn’t burn her lungs since Quynh had been taken from her.

Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she rose and turned to Quynh.

Her expression was fractured from what it had been. Andy could now see beneath the anger to the Quynh she knew before.

“Hanahaki?” Quynh asked.

Andy nodded. “Since you were taken from me.”

“And still you stopped searching.”

Andy stared straight at Quynh as she said, “Yes.”

“You are mortal now.”

“Yes.”

“And yet, you did not search for me in your final days.”

“That, actually, is not true,” Andy said. “With resources provided by Copley, we have been. Only to find out, you weren’t where we were searching.”

Quynh’s mouth twisted, but Andy knew her face, knew it more than her own, and she saw how she tried to hide her trembling bottom lip. “You could have died, and I would not have seen you again.”

“But that did not happen,” Andy said, risking a step forward.

“I am here,” she said, taking another step.

“And so are you.” Yet another.

“And you still love me, despite everything.” Closer.

“Or else I would be choking on flowers right now, my final death.” Andy was a foot away and finally stopped.

“We have a chance to spend my remaining days together. It won’t be an eternity, but it will be more than I ever expected to be able to have. I know we have much to discuss and many traumas to bear, but I want you, Quynh. I want you with me until the end.”

“Just you and me,” Quynh said, eyes fixed on Andy.

Taking a chance, Andy leaned her head forward, until their foreheads rested against each other.

“Always,” Andy whispered.

Flower meanings: Red carnation - Alas for my poor heart, my heart aches Camellia, pink - Longing For You Forget-me-not - True love memories, do not forget me Salvia, blue - I think of you Salvia, red - Forever mine Yarrow - Everlasting love Heliotrope - Eternal love, devotion Violet - Loyalty, devotion, faithfulness

#andromaquynh #andy x quynh #andromache the scythian #andy #quynh #fanfic #my fic #tog femslash fortnight #hanahaki disease

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 4 years

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FEMSLASH FEBRUARY #13: In which Cameron unexpectedly gets some validation

[CN: food/eating]

It’s Valentine’s Day, 1985, and it’s another hectic morning in the Clark house, Gordon is wrangling the girls, and Donna, who usually rushes off to work as early as she can, is in the kitchen, chopping strawberries and making french toast for everyone. It’s bringing her more joy than she thought it would, and so she doesn’t have to fake it when she says good morning to her girls. They finally troop downstairs, more or less on schedule, and sit down at the table.

“Good morning, monkeys!” Donna greets them. She brings two plates of french toast to the table and sets them in front of Haley and Joanie. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she kisses Haley’s head. She goes around to Joanie’s chair, kisses her too, and says, “Will you be my valentines? You will, right?”

“I will,” Haley nods.

“Okay,” Joanie shrugs. Then as Donna goes to the coffee maker to pour a cup for Gordon, Joanie says, “Actually, can I be Cameron’s valentine?”

Donna stops short and then turns back to her. “You mean….Cameron who I work with, sweetie?”

“Well, she doesn’t have any valentines, right? You have us, and dad.”

“Uh, yeah?” Donna says, completely at a loss. “I don’t really know about her valentines, monkey. You’d have to ask her.”

“Okay,” Joanie says, “I just have to ask her, ‘will you be my valentine,’ right? I can do that. We can go before school. Or I can just go to work with you today.”

Donna is actually starting to panic slightly at this point, though she’s not entirely sure why. “Honey, you know you can’t come to work with me. You have to go to school.”

“Okay, then we can stop on the way to school, it won’t take a long time, right?”

“Stop where?” Gordon asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Mutiny,” Haley quietly says.

“I need to ask Cameron to be my valentine,” Joanie says.

Gordon lets out a deep hearty cackle.

“What?!” Joanie asks. “Why is that funny?!”

Gordon looks at Donna, who has that extremely rare ‘MAY DAY!’ look on her face. He goes over to the coffee maker, and pulling a mug out of the cabinet above it, says, “Well girls just don’t have girl valentines.”

“That’s not true,” Haley says. “We give valentines to everyone at school, even the other girls in the class.”

“Well, that’s different,” Gordon says, pouring coffee into his mug. “At school they make you give valentines to everyone so that no one’s feelings get hurt.”

“Gordon!” Donna hisses.

“What? That doesn’t prepare anyone for the real world!” he quietly argues. Then he turns back to the kitchen table and asks Joanie, “Besides, why would you want her to be your valentine?”

“Because she doesn’t have any! And it’s not fair,” Joanie shouts.

Rolling his eyes, Gordon says, “Well, you’re probably right about that, but that’s not your fault.” He sits down at the table, mug in hand. “It’s not your fault that nobody likes Cameron.”

Defiantly, Joanie says, “I like her.”

“I like her too,” Haley says, taking another bite of her french toast.

“Well, we’re not going there before school,” Gordon says.

“Then I’ll ask her some other time,” Joanie crosses her arms over her chest.

Gordon looks over at Donna, a look of paternal disappointment on his face, as if she’s somehow failed the family. Still feeling blindsided, she shrugs helplessly, and goes to the sink to busy herself with cleaning. She turns on the radio to drown out the weird silence that’s settled over the kitchen.

She’s relieved when Gordon gets up and says, “All right, it’s almost time to go, I’m gonna put on my shoes, I’ll meet you two by the door in ten minutes?”

“Okay,” Haley says agreeably. Joanie doesn’t respond, but Gordon doesn’t notice, and he heads back to the master bedroom.

As soon as he’s gone, Donna goes back to the table. “You guys ready? Did you have enough breakfast?”

“Yes,” Haley and Joanie both say.

“I didn’t know you liked Cameron so much,” Donna says to Joanie.

“Is it true, what Dad said about no one liking her?” Joanie asks.

“Not really,” Donna says. “He was just joking around.”

Joanie knows, on some level, that Gordon wasn’t joking, and that there’s something about Cameron that makes her strange, that makes Gordon and other grown ups not like her. “We’re supposed to make cards at school today, maybe I can make one for her.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Donna says. “And in the meantime, I will go right to work, and I will tell her that you wish her a happy valentine’s day. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

Ameliorated for the time being, Joanie says, “Okay,” and then gets up to go put on her shoes and coat. Haley follows her. Donna sighs, unsure of how Cameron will respond, but she also has this funny feeling that Cameron will be okay with it. That almost makes her feel more uncomfortable than the idea of Cameron responding poorly, though, and Donna doesn’t know why that would make her uncomfortable.

A few minutes later, Donna kisses Gordon and the girls as they head off to school, and a few minutes after that, she’s driving to Mutiny. She wonders if there’s any possibility of all of this ‘blowing over,’ but she knows that Joanie won’t forget about it, and that she will, at some point, ask Donna if she talked to Cameron. After practicing trying to sound casual and not merely comfortable with but unequivocally endeared by the idea of her daughter wishing her coworker a happy valentine’s day in the car (‘Morning, everyone, and happy valentine’s day to you, Cameron, from my eldest, Joanie! …what do you mean, you’ve never had a business partner’s kid wish you a happy valentine’s day? I know I have! Ugh kids, don’t you love them? They just want everyone to love holidays as much as you do…!’), Donna decides that the smartest thing is to get this over with. She parks out in front of the Mutiny house and marches inside, ready to deliver Joanie’s message and move on to the inevitable ensuing day or two of awkwardness as soon as she possibly can.

The front room of the house is full of its usual early morning hum of coder chatter, and Donna quickly says hello to the staff before going into the kitchen. When she finds Cameron there, groggily making a slice of toast for herself, she suddenly doesn’t feel quite so self-conscious. Not too loudly, she says, “Hey…good morning.” Cameron turns and grunts, which Donna now knows is all the greeting Cameron can muster before 10am. Not taking it personally, she continues, “And happy valentine’s day to you, from Joanie.” Trying to stay calm, Donna grabs her mug from the cabinet to Cameron’s upper right.

“Joanie?”

“Yeah, uh, my daughter, Joanie,” Donna says, getting a spoon from the drawer in front of her. “She asked me to tell you happy valentine’s day from her.”

“Yeah, I know who she is,” Cameron rolls her eyes. “Uh, I guess, tell her I said happy valentine’s day back? And I guess, if she asks, tell Haley I said happy valentine’s day to her, too.”

This was not the response Donna had prepared for. Incredulous, she says, “Really?”

Cameron looks at her sideways. “Yes, really?”

“Oh,” Donna says. “Okay. I was worried that you’d think it was weird, or something.”

As the toaster dings, Cameron shakes her head. Agreeably, she says, “No. Your kids are cool, Donna.” Resisting the urge to make a joke about not knowing where they could have gotten that from, she grabs the toast and puts it on a plate, and says, “She barely knows me, so I guess it seems a little weird, but, it’s fine.”

Donna grins at Cameron as she butters her toast, and reassuringly, she says, “Well, you know how kids are. They see more and they know more than we realize. And they don’t know how to judge people yet, so they just go on instinct and they like the adults they like. They’re can be much better judges of character than people a lot older than them.”

Now hurriedly slathering some strawberry jam on her toast, Cameron says, “Uh huh, yeah,” completely missing that Donna has just implied that Cameron is likable and of good character.

Warmly, Donna says, “Okay, I’m gonna go check in with Lev, enjoy your toast?”

Missing her bed, Cameron mopily says, “Yep, I’m sure it will be spectacular.”

The exchange is so different from how Donna thought it would be that she actually manages to forget about the whole thing until late that afternoon, when the phone rings. Yo-yo answers it, and then stands up in the middle of the room and says, “Uh, Cameron, a Joanie wants to talk to you?”

Donna and Cameron both look up at the same time, and Donna says, “Joanie? My Joanie?” Before she san say anything else, Cameron is getting up to go to take the call in her office. Donna keeps it together for a few seconds before jumping up and rushing after her, and following her into the office.

Cameron looks behind her to see Donna, and gives her a confused look, but doesn’t question her. She goes to the desk and picks up the receiver, and says, “Hey Yo-yo, I got it, thanks,” and then says, “Joanie? Hi. Yeah. Your mom told me this morning about you wishing me a happy valentine’s day, same to you. Your mom is right here…oh, okay.” She’s quiet for a few seconds, during which Donna becomes anxious, though she’s not quite sure why. Cameron sits on the desk, and says, “Uh, no, I’m not really big on having valentines….” Cameron’s face softens, and she says, “Well, you can be both your mom’s valentine and mine. How does that sound? Okay. Cool. Talk to you soon, Joanie…bye.” She hangs up the phone, and she looks at Donna.

Sinking down onto the couch, Donna says, “Cameron, I am so, so sorry if you felt obligated or put on the spot just now. She asked about asking you this morning, but I didn’t think she would call here.”

“It’s okay,” Cameron shrugs. She seems mildly annoyed at first, but then she sighs, “I’m not really in a position to turn down valentines, so. Sure, it’s maybe a little unorthodox, but, I’m flattered.” With a sad smirk, she says, “At least someone likes me.”

Donna frowns sympathetically at her. “We all like you.”

Cameron looks at her skeptically. “Gordon doesn’t like me.”

“I meant here, at Mutiny,” Donna grins at her.

“Oh. Yeah, that makes more sense,” Cameron nods.

After a moment, Donna gets up to her feet, and says, “Thanks for being kind to my kid, Cameron.”

Cameron squints at her, “What do you think I am, Donna? Of course I was kind to her.”

“You really didn’t have to be,” Donna says. “You’d be surprised at how many people wouldn’t have acted the way you did. So, thank you. For being gracious and taking it as the compliment I’m pretty sure it was meant to be.”

As she stands up, Cameron grins, “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of being gracious before.”

“Well,” Donna turns around to walk out, “There’s truly a first time for everything, I guess!” She walks toward the door, and motions for Cameron to follow her.

“Oh right, work, we’re supposed to be working,” Cameron rushes to catch up with her.

The next morning, Donna delivers Joanie’s handmade pink and black valentine to Cameron. It’s a crooked marker on construction paper affair, but it’s one of the few valentines Cameron has ever received. She gets choked up when she sees it, and so even though part of her wants to have it framed, she hides it in the back of her top desk drawer, instead, so that it’s always nearby, but she doesn’t see it too often.

#your semi regular reminder that joanie clark is not and has never been h*terosexual!#hope everyone had a nice or at least not miserable day yesterday <3 #also your reminder that we are p much all joanie here #we all just wanna be our poor orphaned computer genius bby's valentine #femslash february #femslash february 2020 #fic #fan fiction #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson #joanie clark

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camelliacats · 3 years

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The Listener

Another random oneshot.

Fic: "The Listener" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Gabrielle Delacour/Rose Zeller, Fleur Delacour–Weasley, Victoire Weasley, with mentions of others

Rating: light T

Words: ~3,870

Additional info: romance, femslash, Next Gen era, 3rd person POV

Summary: They didn't know each other. But, to be honest, no one really knew them, either.

May 2nd, 2003

"…and not all who fought were old enough to do so. But age did not matter in the war. Age did not determine life or death, and neither did skill. It was pure will that motivated all—those with us today and those lost to us five years ago…on this day."

Gabrielle Delacour stopped listening to Headmistress McGonagall's words. She tuned out her surroundings in general, though not before she put her three-year-old niece, Victoire, down to return to Fleur. Then she walked away from the gathering in the Great Hall and headed outside, into the main courtyard.

Had Gabrielle had her way, she would not have attended this memorial service. However, she had avoided the first few by staying in France the past few years. Some of it had been to finish her schooling, but she really had just been avoiding these ceremonies. It was not that she did not understand their importance or that she had been cheering on the Death Eaters—but, in a way, it had nothing to do with her. She had not been present for any of this, definitely not for the final battle at Hogwarts. Her only tie was that her sister had married into the Weasley family, and Fleur had fought in the war. Gabrielle herself had not directly lost anything or anyone, though it had been rather scary not seeing all of her classmates show up at school. Even Beauxbatons had lost some students to fear and the need to hide.

Outside, Gabrielle walked around the castle. It had been rebuilt quickly after the war so that it looked the same as before. Sometimes she wondered what things would have been like if she had gone here instead of Beauxbatons. Ultimately, Gabrielle was glad she had gone to her alma mater.

Footsteps near the stone floor of the entryway caught her attention, and the French witch darted her glance upwards. Another witch emerged from the gathering.

Gabrielle turned towards her. "Hello," she said, pronouncing her "h." She had worked hard to be able to switch her accent on and off.

"Oh, hullo," the woman said. She had brown hair and black eyes—plain looks—and she was dressed in simple robes. A badger pin adorned her breast, though.

"You fought in the war, yes?"

The woman shook her head. "I didn't have the chance. I got to see my friends fight and fall instead."

Gabrielle's features softened in response. "I am sorry."

The witch shrugged. "I only lost one close friend. My other friends and classmates survived."

"So why are you not still inside?"

She grinned darkly. "Because I can't stand it in there any longer."

Gabrielle ventured to smile a bit, too. "I am Gabrielle Delacour."

"Rose Zeller." She strode towards Gabrielle and politely shook her hand. "I finished school last year, so it's a bit strange to be back in this place."

The Delacour blinked. "We are the same age, then."

Rose nodded. "No joke? Huh." She crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood by Gabrielle's side, staring up at the blue–gray sky.

Gabrielle eyed Rose's profile, curious about her. How nice it must be to have such a frank attitude…though Gabrielle had long since presumed that most of the English were the same way. Still, Rose seemed nice, friendly enough. But Gabrielle did not know what to say.

"Say, my new friend Gabrielle, do you want to get away from this dark and dreary castle?"

On that day, Gabrielle dismissed Rose's familiarity and forthrightness and the idea that these proceedings had nothing to do with her. So she said, "Please."

May 2nd, 2004

Oh, no, there goes Binns floating up to the front of the audience…, Gabrielle internally groaned as she sat at the end of a row. Fleur and Bill were two seats over, and Victoire sat between her mother and aunt. Gabrielle was not sure if she could escape this time, though it were not as though Fleur could blame her. Binns bored everyone half to death, and Hermione could only wake Harry to interrupt the ghost if she herself were awake. So, unless one of the "Golden Trio" did something now, Gabrielle's legs and bum were likely to fall painfully asleep.

She felt a poke in her back, though. At first she ignored it. If it was Victoire trying to get her in trouble with Fleur, then Gabrielle was not going to let that happen. But she was poked again. Well, maybe the person behind her had a case of mistaken identity; nobody ever needed the younger Delacour sister, after all. However, Gabrielle could not ignore a third poke, and she summoned all her willpower not to whip around and belittle someone in French for disrupting the service.

When she turned, she saw brown hair and black eyes. "May I help you?"

The woman seemed a little confused. "Uh…don't you remember me?"

"No, sorry."

"It's Rose…Rose Zeller." Her weak smile made Gabrielle's annoyance evaporate into humility.

"Ah! I am so very sorry!" Gabrielle glanced at Victoire and then at Fleur, who shot her a look. She mouthed "sorry" to her sister before excusing herself from the ceremony. Shortly thereafter, Rose Zeller joined Gabrielle on the green past the courtyard.

"I didn't mean to be rude," the brunette blurted.

Gabrielle shook her head. "I apologize for forgetting you."

Rose shrugged, though Gabrielle could tell that she had hurt her feelings. "I'm used to it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because…I was one of the young ones. People tended to write me off."

Gabrielle frowned and sighed. "…yes. I, too, know the feeling." She held out her hand. "Forgiven?"

Rose laughed, a light and airy sound that reminded Gabrielle of delicious puff pastries. "Forgotten!" She still shook on it, though. "Say, want to join me at the stone circle?"

The two witches made their way to the place, and Rose stretched out her arms and twirled around. Gabrielle did not feel inclined to be so…er, "free." At least not at this school that was not her own.

"The air's not stuffy out here," Rose said, though Gabrielle recalled that Rose's clothes looked similar to the heavy robes she had worn a year ago.

"If you do not like it in there, then why do you come?"

Rose came to a halt and looked at her, black eyes boring into blue. "Why do you?"

Gabrielle fidgeted. "Family…"

Rose nodded. "Almost all of Hogwarts becomes your family when you go here. Well, maybe even some Slytherins are all right. I suppose since Astoria Greengrass convinced her sister to fight with her that their family isn't all that bad. Though I still don't think Draco Malfoy should show up at all," she finished with a shake of her head.

Gabrielle knew a bit about the Malfoys based on things Bill and some of his family had said, so she nodded. She did not want Rose to keep looking so serious, though, so Gabrielle gave a little half-twirl herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rose's mouth twitch upward. "So what family brings you back here?"

Rose hummed an unfamiliar tune—it sounded made-up—and twirled with Gabrielle. "Colin Creevey. I was good friends with Jimmy Peakes even though he was in Gryffindor and I was in Hufflepuff. I sort of made my friends in that House, so I was frightened when he and Ritchie Coote and some of the others wanted to rush in and fight." Rose sighed and bumped into the blonde. "McGonagall yelled at most of us for being too young to fight but still trying. Jimmy and Ritchie were safe, but we saw Colin die. He was the oldest of us 'young ones' who weren't supposed to fight."

Gabrielle watched the smile fall slowly from her face, and it made Gabrielle frown, too. She did not like seeing Rose frown. She awkwardly moved an arm around the other witch until they were standing in the middle of the stone circle in half a hug. Gabrielle cleared her throat, and Rose coughed and laughed.

"Thank you, Gabrielle."

"…I promise not to forget you again."

"Yeah. I think it'd be nice to be real friends, too."

May 2nd, 2005

"You look pretty today, Aunt Gab," chirped five-year-old Victoire. "Is that for my birthday?"

Gabrielle smiled at her niece. "Oh, everything is for you, you little angel." She ran her hand through Victoire's strawberry–blond locks, not ruffling them in case Fleur saw and complained about having to fix her hair again.

Even Bill remarked that she looked nicer than usual, which earned Gabrielle a curious eyebrow quirk from Fleur. "I thought zat getting you to come two yeairs in a row was a fluke. But troi?"

Gabrielle tried to act casual. "I know it means a lot to you."

Fleur still seemed skeptic, but she did appreciate the sentiment, and she kissed her baby sister's cheek. "All right. We must leave for ze service now."

The four of them used a special Portkey to join the others since Victoire was big enough that they did not have to fly the distance now. Upon arrival, Fleur and Bill led Victoire over to Harry and Ginny, who had brought seven-year-old Teddy and the months-old baby James with them. Gabrielle looked on somewhat enviously for a minute before heading to where she sat every year.

On the way there, Gabrielle spied a woman talking with two men close to her age. The three of them laughed—another thing that made Gabrielle a tad envious—but the French witch stared at the woman's back. Though her brown hair was tied loosely at the side with a black ribbon, Gabrielle thought she recognized the robes…

When the men left for elsewhere, Gabrielle hesitantly approached the woman and tapped her shoulder. "Ah, Rose…?"

The woman turned. It took her a second for her eyes to light up. "Oh! Gabrielle!"

The blonde smiled. "I suppose you had to misplace my face as I forgot you entirely last year."

Rose shook her head. "No, no, not at all." She chuckled. "I'm sorry, I just—you look nice."

Gabrielle beamed. "Thank you. Your hair looks very pretty tied back."

Rose's cheeks took on a healthy bit of color. "Oh…thanks…" A full two minutes of silence passed between them. "So…you didn't used to come to these, did you?"

"No, I did not. I only started to come at the fifth anniversary."

"And you still keep coming back."

Gabrielle felt that she should blush at the statement, but she did not understand why, and she observed Rose quietly instead. Rose did the same, and Gabrielle wondered if Rose had the same fascination with her that Gabrielle had with Rose. The Delacour opened her mouth to say something smart, thought of nothing, and promptly closed her mouth.

Rose grinned. "Want to go to the stone circle again?"

"But the service has not even started."

"Then we won't be interrupting anything this time."

Gabrielle could not think of any other excuse, so she followed Rose out of the castle. Though she still was not very familiar with the castle, she thought that they were not heading in the correct direction. "Ah, the stone circle…?"

"Eh, I'm not feeling the stone circle today. I was thinking about going to the covered bridge instead—is that all right?" They were already at the bridge's mouth. "You aren't afraid of heights, are you?"

Gabrielle huffed despite her warm cheeks. "Gabrielle Delacour is not afraid of heights!" She strode past Rose onto the bridge. It felt sturdy enough, so, as long as she did not stare at the cavern far, far below…she would be fine.

Rose chuckled again and came up right beside Gabrielle, grabbing her hand and interlacing their fingers. "Yeah, even the tiniest things scare me sometimes, too."

Gabrielle said nothing, and they spent the entire service there on the bridge. But, the whole time, Gabrielle wondered if Rose meant something else.

May 2nd, 2006

Fleur crossed her arms. "I thought zat four yeairs in a row would be too much for you," she said with a shake of her head.

Gabrielle internally groaned. If only Fleur had realized that Gabrielle had not been really present for last year…! But Gabrielle did not want to irk her sister further. "Can we go back now?"

Fleur made a noise. "It eez only because it eez Victoire's birthday zat I will 'ave to let this go."

The younger Delacour bit back a remark as Fleur shielded her eyes to look for her daughter in the crowd. Bill was chatting with some old schoolmates, so Gabrielle supposed that one more minute away from any of them would not kill her.

"I got you in trouble, didn't I?" a voice breathed in her ear.

Gabrielle nearly yelped at Rose's appearance behind her. She turned and gave her friend a glare. "You should not frighten someone like zat!"

Rose's eyes widened. "Whoa, I'm sorry! But…wow. Your perfect English begins to fail you when you're scared or surprised?" The blonde blushed at comment. "How cute."

"That was mean," Gabrielle said, emphasizing the first word. "And, for your information, I was reprimanded by my sister. She realized I was absent."

"Oh, no, that sucks. Did she realize you were absent last year, too?" Rose asked with a conspiratorial giggle.

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, she did not."

"Well, it's not as though you'll be banned from coming back, right? We've all got our right to be here."

Gabrielle pulled a face. "She is my reason for being here."

"Right, right…" Rose whistled. "Well…if your family's going to be any longer, the Moon's going to be up completely before you're home. Can you catch a drink down in Hogsmeade?"

"I really should not…"

"What? It'd be one firewhiskey with me and my friends, Jimmy and Ritchie. They asked Demelza to come, too, but she already left. You get to meet the blokes," Rose added, as if it were incentive.

"My niece's birthday is today, Rose."

"Oh, right." Rose's face fell. "Um…we could do it another time, then…"

Something rumbled within Gabrielle, and she shook her head. "We only ever meet this one day. I think I could have my first firewhiskey with you—but only one."

Rose lit up. "That's great!" She took Gabrielle by the hand as they separated from the crowd. "So…you're really in your twenties and you still haven't had your first firewhiskey?"

Gabrielle laughed, amused that that was what Rose had focused on. By the end of the night, though, Gabrielle was feeling as though she could not see Rose on this one day anymore.

They could see each other more often, could they not?

May 2nd, 2007

"Ehm, Fleur…this is my friend, Rose."

Fleur blinked and shook Rose's hand. "Oh. Nice to meet you, Rose."

"Likewise," Rose said.

Gabrielle fidgeted between the two of them. She turned to Fleur. "Look, I already told Victoire that you have my present for her, and I spent this morning with her. She said I am allowed to be gone tonight as long as she gets me for the entire day the day after tomorrow."

The two sisters silently glared, but Fleur appeared to know that she had lost the battle since Gabrielle had already chatted with Victoire. Fleur nodded to Rose. "It was nice meeting you." Then she waddled off, for she was due to have another daughter in three months.

Rose and Gabrielle headed for Hogsmeade, and the brunette praised the blonde. "She's all right with you staying over?"

"She has to be. I do not live with her. And I am not her nanny," Gabrielle stated, her last sentence coming out as more of a hiss than a statement. She inhaled and exhaled to calm herself. "I am just always at Shell Cottage, it seems."

"But I thought you worked at Beauxbatons."

"I am only the arts director when Beauxbatons needs me. Perhaps, someday, I will be on the official teaching staff." She shook her head. "But not now."

Rose nodded. "I envy you, knowing what you want to do." She nodded again at her friend's look of disbelief. "It's true. I envy you. You have a nice life."

"But—but I envy you! I have seen you with Jimmy and Ritchie—you have friends here."

"Don't you have friends?"

Gabrielle did not answer. She had once had friends, but she had not really heard from them after school. She linked her arm through Rose's, defiant. "I have you."

That seemed to mean the world to her. "That you do."

May 3rd, 2007

Gabrielle awoke, a pleasant warmth at her back. It made her smile.

The night had been fun. It had been just her and Rose, doing all the things girls do. They had played ridiculous games (and Gabrielle was sure truth-or-dare would be more fun with more than two people), sang songs they had learned as children, talked about the goings-on at the memorial service (because they both had a hunch that Bill's brother, George, was going to propose to that woman, Angelina Johnson, soon), and just had a good time in general. They had even had a pillow fight before collapsing in a hurricane of feathers and falling asleep. Gabrielle had never felt like such a teenage girl before.

With Rose's back against hers, she thought of how she and Fleur used to cuddle when they were little. But this was different.

This was Rose.

August 20th, 2007

"Rose! Oh, Rose, you should see her! She is adorable!"

"Gabrielle, you just saw me…yesterday… Wait, it happened last night?" Rose jumped up and down, and Gabrielle was so caught up in the moment that she jumped up and down, too.

Gabrielle laughed with her, happy tears in her eyes. The blonde was now aunt not only to Victoire Apolline—but to Dominique Gabrielle. Gabrielle had not known that Fleur and Bill had decided to take her name for Dominique's middle one, but it delighted her so. And she told Rose as much.

"What? That's amazing! And awesome!" Rose squeezed her friend in a tight hug. It was almost too tight, but it did not hurt Gabrielle. It lasted for what felt like a while, with one of Rose's hands on her back and the other on her shoulder blade; Gabrielle had to place her hands on Rose's shoulders. It felt…nice.

It felt as though Gabrielle was the most precious thing in the world.

But Gabrielle shook her mind clear of that. She was not a fresh-faced child, the face of the future. She was not that precious. Even if she would have liked to be.

"Do you want to see a picture?"

"Duh! Come on in, my mum just made some marbled cake. Holy Helga, it's almost as if she knew you were coming, haha."

They got lost in their gushing and chatting, and Gabrielle stayed the night again. Even if Gabrielle was not the most precious thing in the world…Rose was—at least, to her.

December 27th, 2007

She found her sipping cider outside her family home. "Rose."

Rose's expression was hard, angry, upset. "Gabrielle."

Gabrielle had always liked that Rose had never called her "Gab" or "Gaby;" she somehow managed to make "Gabrielle" sound so personal. But how she had just said it did not sound so nice. "Ah…happy Christm—"

"It's not a happy Christmas, Gabrielle," Rose interrupted. She faced her friend, her eyes blacker than black.

Gabrielle averted her own blue ones. "I am sorry… I—"

"I've not seen you for months. Not even a Floo-call or a letter."

The Frenchwoman bit her bottom lip. "I just—work happened, and family and—"

Rose sighed. "I know. I'm just your friend."

Gabrielle marched up to her and slapped the cider from her hand. "You are not just my friend." When she realized how it sounded, she added, "You mean…something to me."

A winter wind rustled through the trees, blowing snow on them. Slowly, Rose smiled.

"What?"

"You owe me a cider." And perhaps she owed her something else, too.

April 2nd, 2008

Gabrielle was still wide awake. She did not know how Rose could have slept at all. Gabrielle's mind had never turned off. It was still trying to comprehend it all.

Had she really kissed Rose? Had she really been so intimate with her?

Against her back, Rose straightened her own pajamas and half huffed, half sighed. "Are you still bothered by it?"

Gabrielle had no response. She could not respond when every one of her sensory nerves was still on fire.

"Fine then," Rose said, turning so that they were back-to-back like usual. "April Fools."

May 2nd, 2008

She should have known it would have turned out like this. She would not have lasted another second after seeing those chocolate locks bound by the black ribbon. No sooner had she seen it than she and Rose had bounded from there.

And now they were at Gabrielle's barely-lived-in flat, touching, kissing, breathing, feeling, smelling, living, finding, scorching, feeling, feeling, feeling—

And not once thinking (which was the best thing of all).

May 2nd, 2009

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Rose said with a shake of her head as she and Gabrielle met up after the memorial service. They were walking inside the stone circle again.

Gabrielle shrugged. "Why should we not?" She twirled to tempt Rose.

Rose cursed and sighed. "Because…because maybe we weren't meant to be anything else. Just yearly mates."

The blonde twirled again. "Who set such rules?" She twirled again and again and again.

Rose cursed again and snarled, but she had no answer. Instead, she stood in the way so that Gabrielle twirled into her, and kissing there seemed to make the stone circle their spot forever.

May 2nd, 2010

"Wow." Rose shook her head. "The twelfth anniversary…"

Gabrielle nodded. "I am just shocked I have been coming for seven years."

Rose snickered. "Well, maybe coming for two…"

"Rose!" Gabrielle muttered something in French, but her cheeks were cherry red as Rose laughed.

Victoire appeared with Teddy in tow. "Oh, Aunt Gab, Aunt Rose! Teddy was just telling me what Hogwarts will be like for me!"

Fleur appeared with Dominique in her arms. "Victoire! I told you not to call—" She stopped when she saw Rose was there. "Oh, I am vair sorry, Rose…"

"It doesn't bother me, Fleur," Rose said, her hand firmly on Gabrielle's waist in answer to Fleur's uneasy stare. "And Vic likes me well enough." She turned to Victoire. "So are you going to be in Hufflepuff with me and Teddy?"

As Victoire burst with conversation, Gabrielle had a silent battle with her sister. Someday she would make Fleur understand that Rose was everything to Gabrielle that Bill was to Fleur. Rose could argue, could love, could be Gabrielle's—but she was there for Gabrielle, the listener when no one else thought Gabrielle Delacour even had a voice.

Someday Fleur would understand. But Gabrielle knew that she and Rose would have all the time in the world to make her understand.

Uh…wow. This was supposed to be totally different from what I'd originally intended. I'd meant to write a drabble. And I'd meant for Gabrielle to be a more dominant personality—but Rose Zeller took over! And I feel as though I nearly completely fleshed out a minor charrie that basically just has a name (Rose). But Merlin…! I'm also glad I finally wrote this, because this was an idea from a year ago that finally beat up my motivation and demanded to be written. XD

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

2017 note: YES. 8D This happens to me quite a lot, actually, where I get an idea and then return to it a yr (or yrs, whoops) later and BAM! Fic. XD This is deffo one of my more successful delayed-idea-turned-complete-story ideas. Using the remembrance ceremony as the main backdrop for the story painted a lot—mostly in terms of tone and the charries' temperament. I liked the few scenes that didn't take place in May, tho, esp the April one. :O I remember writing that scene back in 2012 and thinking, "NO! Rose, how could you say 'April Fools'?!" *lol* But, man. One of my fav femslash stories I've written. =w= I hope you enjoy it, too, reader! Esp since in rereading and editing this, I fixed a couple timeline errors. XDDD

#hp #harry potter #gabrizeller #gabrielle delacour #rose zeller #<5000 #romance #femslash #next gen era #rated: PG13 #3rd POV

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dcubang · 4 years

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2020 Rough Draft Submission Guidelines

Hello! I hope everyone is doing well, and your writing and creating is coming along! These are the Rough Draft Submission Guidelines, and I will be accepting rough drafts between July 1st-July 8th, Wednesday-Wednesday. Please make sure to read everything!

Rough draft submission is only for the Traditional Author track. If you have chosen Solo Author or Tandem Author, do not submit a rough draft! This is only for the authors wishing to be paired with a fanworker, and are not already working with a fanworker. =D

If you signed up as an undecided author, now is the time to choose if you will continue as a Solo author, Traditional author, or if you have paired up with an already, Tandem author. I will only be sending emails out to those that signed up as undecided and have yet to let me know which path they've chosen, however, if you need to switch please get in contact with me, either on Discord or email [email protected]. Now is also the time to switch down from the 10k Big Bang to the 5k Mini-Bang if you need to!

Here's a helpful post for writing summaries!

Beta readers are not required this year, but if you are wanting a beta reader, here is a resource post for finding one: Beta Reader Resource Post. Please note that these might be outdated!

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I am only looking for rough drafts, so it is okay if your story is still very rough at this point. I'm just checking for length and completion, which means your story does not need to be completely finished or polished, but around 60% of it needs to be done. This means that an author signed up for the 10k Traditional Bang must submit at least 6,000 words, and a 5k Mini-Bang author must submit at least 3,000 words.

If you are writing a story that will be significantly longer than the 5k/10k minimum, try to get as close to 60% finished as you can before submitting your rough draft, but I do understand that it may not be possible for a really long story! Please use your best judgement and decide for yourself if you can get your story finished by October, should you choose to work with a fanworker.

If you are submitting an incomplete draft, please be aware that it needs to have all the scenes at least outlined, including the ending. Your fanworker needs at least a few scenes to choose from so they can create their fanwork, after all! It will also be really important to communicate with your fanworker, in the case of a major story change!!!

Please read this carefully, as this is about the consequences of not being able to finish on time.

In previous years, once an author submitted a rough draft, they were required to finish or were subject to being banned from the Bang for the next year, and fanworkers, once they claimed a story had to create an accompanying fanwork, or they would be banned. This year, Traditional Path authors and artists will have a grace period to drop out, without consequence, after claims have passed. The final drop out date for Traditional groups is Saturday, August 1st. Participants that drop out after this date are subject to being banned. (If something major comes up in your life, just get in contact with me so we can discuss things together!)

If an artist drops out, I will arrange for a pinch hit artist for the author, should they wish to continue with an artist, or they can choose to go Solo. If an author drops out, artists are welcome to continue on as Solo, or they can claim a different story, if they so choose.

The final posting date is Sunday, November 30th, and any Traditional author/artist pair that does not post is subject to being banned from DCU Bang 2021. There is no penalty for dropping out before rough draft submissions or during the grace period, nor is there a penalty for switching to Solo Author prior to claims and being unable to finish. Tandem teams can drop out together at any time with no consequence. Once you are paired with an artist, please make sure that you can finish, as it is unfair to the artist if you cannot finish. This works the other way too! It's not fair to an author if the artist cannot finish!

If you are worried you cannot finish, or do not already have around 60% complete, but still want to continue writing, consider switching to the Solo Author track! Even if you don't complete your story by November 30th, there are no consequences. =D This way, you still get to share your story with the communities and have your story listed on the masterlists.

How to Submit Your Rough Draft:

-- Email your fic files to [email protected]. -- I can accept the following file types: .doc, .docx, .rtf, and Google Docs. If submitting a Google Doc, share with [email protected] with editing capabilities, otherwise I cannot verify the word count. If none of these file types work for you, contact me ASAP on Discord, or send an email to [email protected]! Do not send a different file type without first contacting me! -- The subject line should say: Username ROUGH DRAFT - and include the username you used to sign up! -- In the body of the email, copy and paste the information below and fill it out, keeping the HTML tags. This is so I can quickly post summaries without having to format everyone's submission! Also, if submitting via Google Docs, you still have to email me with the following information filled out. If you need help with the HTML, please contact me. If it's not done correctly, I will ask you to redo it.

Username: (your username here) Completed Percentage: Title: Word Count: (At least 3k or 6k) Genre: (Action/Adventure, PWP, Fluff, etc) Fandom/Universe: Characters/Pairings: (Major characters/pairings only) Warnings: (e.g.: non con, mpreg, etc) Rating: (PG, NC-17, etc) Summary: (3-5 paragraphs)

-- Take your time with your summary! This is what artists are going to use to make a determination in their claims. Make sure to give enough information for potential artists to make decisions, but don't write so much that it is overwhelming. Here's a helpful post for writing artist summaries! Also keep in mind that this is a summary for attracting an artist, so the information you give might be very different from what you would want to give to a potential reader. The artist summary does not need to be the same one you use for your story later on! -- Make sure to be clear and thorough about trigger warnings so that artists will know what they are signing up for! You must put any and all warnings in this version of your summary, even if you decide to use an "author chooses not to warn" label later. Artists need to know what they are signing up for, after all, and we don't want artists, nor authors, unhappy with the match. Please warn for: noncon, dubcon, excessive or graphic violence, underage sex, incest, character death, and anything else that might be potentially problematic for a reader! Do not warn for slash, femslash, or het.

Once I receive your submission, I will be sending a confirmation email in return. If you do not get a confirmation email within 24 hours, please get in contact with me at either the DCU Discord server, emailing me at [email protected]. If you have any other concerns or questions, please be sure to get in contact with me through any of those means as well!

The deadline to submit a rough draft is 23:59 MDT, Wednesday, July 8th!

#dcu bang

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avengerscompound · 5 years

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Your Occasional Girlfriend

Your Occasional Girlfriend: A Loki Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: F!Loki x F!Reader

Word Count: 1698

Warnings: Smut (F|F, public sex, vaginal fingering)

Synopsis: Loki shows up in their female form and wants to have a night on the town with you. Turns out when Loki is a woman, she’s a little more vocal about how she feels about you. She also is reminded about how shit some men can be.

A/N: Femslash Saturday and I’m trying my had at Lady Loki.

Your Occasional Girlfriend

You had been sleeping soundly, dreaming one of those dreams where you realize you were naked and outside in front of people. Only when you realized you just went with it figuring that was just a treat for everyone else that day. Had being the operative word. You had startled awake to see the pale face of a woman hovering over you. He sheets of black hair fell down around her face. She had painted her lips black and had the sharpest winged eyeliner you have witnessed in person.

“Loki!” You yelped, pushing her away from you and clutching your chest. “You scared the absolute living shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

“You knew it was me.” She said with a smirk. “It usually takes people a moment to realize.”

“It takes people a moment to realize the weird goth chick that looks exactly like the shape-shifting god Loki and is wearing gold horns on her head is in fact actually Loki?”

She laughed. It had almost a musical quality to it. Soft and genuine and lacking in the dark undertones that Loki’s laughter often carried. “I guess most people don’t see things as truly as you do, my dear.”

“I am amazing.” You snarked. “But seriously what are you doing here?”

“Don’t question my motives,” She said tugging on your sleep shirt. “Get up. I want to go drinking.”

“Why? You don’t even get drunk on alcohol here.” You whined.

“I know I don’t. You do. Get up.” She insisted.

You groaned and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. “I hate you.”

“Yes, everyone does, darling. Now get dressed.”

You sighed and got up and went to your closet. Sometimes you just had to pick your battles and when Loki had decided you were their friend, there were so many to choose from. You pulled a dress out of your closet and she tutted and shook her head. You put it back and took out another. Then again. Until you finally removed one she approved of.

“How come I have to dress up and you get to go out looking like an androgynous lesbian goth and I have to look like I’m about to be a backup dancer in a Latin music video?” You asked.

“Androgynous bi goth, thank you very much.” She corrected you. “And because I know what looks good. Hurry up.”

You huffed and dressed. Loki did your hair and makeup for you and the two of you went out. You walked through the city beside her, not really knowing where she intended going.

Occasionally you’d pass groups of men who would woof whistle or tell you to smile more. Loki would wave her hand and you'd hear choked sounds of pain behind you but were never quite sure what happened.

When one guy yelled out at you asking if he could show you both a good time Loki bailed him up against a wall holding a knife to his throat. “You’d like to show us a good time would you?” She hissed and grabbed his balls in her free hand. “I'm assuming these were involved in the grand vision you had involving us and a good time?”

“Yes,” He choked.

“Mmm… So I would assume you would like to keep them for future good times?” She practically purred.

“Yes, please.” He whimpered. The whimper turned into a screech of pain as Loki tightened her fingers. “Please no.”

“Then say sorry to my girlfriend.”

He looked around wildly before his terror filled eyes landed on you. “I'm sorry, miss. I'm sorry.”

“Now,” Loki hummed, as she ran the point of her blade down his neck and chest. “I want you to promise to never ever harass another person as long as you live. I want you to preach to all your friends the follies of catcalling women. And if I hear otherwise I will track you down and show you exactly what kind of delay there is between cutting someone's cock off with a very sharp knife and the time it takes before they realize they're in pain. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes. Yes, ma’am.” He stuttered.

Loki gave his balls one last squeeze before letting him go. He fell over and threw up at her feet. She sneered and returned to your side. You took her hand and entwined her fingers with yours. “I can’t tell you how hot you are to me right now.” You teased.

“I know. I’m magnificent.” She snarked.

You leaned against her shoulder and fluttered your eyelashes at her. “You’re my hero.”

She smirked and looked at you out of the side of her eye. “Let’s not get too carried away, shall we?”

“You called me your girlfriend. Is that what I am?”

She hummed and tapped her fingers on the back of your hand. “For tonight.”

“God, you are cryptic.”

She laughed and pulled you against her side. “That is literally my thing, darling. I am the goddess of stories.”

You shook your head as she turned a corner and made her way towards a club that still had a line outside despite the fact it was already past midnight. She walked straight to the front door where the bouncer just looked you both up and down before letting you in.

“Are we here to dance?” You asked. Loki laughed the most sarcastic sounding laugh you had ever heard in your life. “Then why a club?”

“I mean, I’ll watch you dance if you like.” She basically yelled against your ear. “I just wanted it to be loud and dark so I could finger you under the table and no one would notice.”

“Loki!” You squawked.

She gave you a devious smile and beelined for the bar. You let her pull you along and waited for the bartender to notice you, keeping yourself pressed against her.

“Hello, ladies. Looking good.” A guy said sidling up to you both.

“I don’t remember asking for your input on that,” Loki said with a roll of her eyes.

“Can I buy either of you a drink?” He asked completely oblivious to how close he was to getting a dagger in the spleen.

“I’m fairly sure I can handle it.”

“Come on now, pretty girl. Play nice.” He purred pushing himself right up against her.

Loki grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him into the bar. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

He babbled something incoherent and Loki let him go. “Fucking psycho.” He muttered as he slunk away.

The commotion had caught the attention of the bartenders and one came over and took your orders right away telling you they were on the house.

“You know how Thor always calls you brother?” You asked as you took a seat at a table in the corner.

“Yes, he calls me sister when I’m in this form. He’s used to it.” Loki said, sliding in beside you. “Not everyone is as good about it as he is.”

“So it’s not just something Asgardians are?” You asked. “Thor can’t change?”

“Everywhere in the 9 Realms, there are people who are one thing or another. Both or neither. You are what you are, darling. Nothing can change that.” She said running her hand up your thigh.

“Yeah but I don’t know anyone who can do…” You said, gesturing to her.

“And now you do, your world has expanded. How lucky for you.” She replied taking a sip from her drink and creeping her hand under your skirt. “I had forgotten how awful men could be. They are much less awful to other men.”

“Same on Asgard?” You asked. The question was quickly followed by a choked whimper as her long fingers ran up your pussy.

“Yes and no. Usually, they aren’t so vial. Plus the whole, Valkyrie situation often makes them a little concerned. But it happens.” She said as she languidly stroked your cunt through the fabric of your panties.

You gripped the edge of the table and hissed through your teeth. “This is really happening is it?”

“I told you it was. I’m a woman of whims. You should know that by now.” She said, pushing your panties to the side and circling her finger over your clit. “I was thinking after this, we go home, you can worship me with your mouth. It has been a while since I’ve experienced that as a woman.”

You moaned softly as her fingers worked your clit sending a buzz through you and imagined what it would be like to eat out a god. Would she taste different to a regular human? Would it be sweeter? Slightly otherworldly.

“What do you think, my pet? Would you like to kneel for me?”

“Yes, please,” You croaked.

She hummed and pushed two of her fingers into your cunt. One thing Loki had always known how to do was use her hands. She had such long fingers and they seemed to have magnets on them, drawn straight to your g-spot. She stoked them inside you, keeping her face unreadable, and her movements steady so anyone looking over wouldn’t be able to tell what she was doing.

Well, they wouldn’t except that you were struggling to keep it together. Every stroke of her fingers inside you, every twist of her wrist, every time her thumb circled over your clit it sent waves of pleasure surging through you. You clenched your jaw and your fingers dug into the table top. You panted through your gritted teeth as you tried so hard not to cry out in ecstasy. Eventually, you ended up just pressing your face into the side of her neck and when you came you bit down into it and let her sinewy flesh muffle the cry.

Loki chuckled as she removed her fingers from you. “When did you become a biter?” She asked as she put her fingers into her mouth and sucked them clean.

“Since the god of mischief started fingering me in public places.”

She shook her head and pulled you to your feet. “Goddess of stories. Please try to keep up.”

#loki #loki fanfic #lady loki #marvel #loki x reader #f!loki x f!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #femslash saturday #smut #your occasional girlfriend

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eleonorebirk · 4 years

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Femslash February Week 3: Jealousy

Harry Potter: Tracy Davis/Daphne Greengrass

“I can’t believe she of all people would come as Krum’s date,” Daphne said. “And did you see her dress robes?”

“I did,” Tracy replied patiently. She cleaned up surprisingly well. It seemed someone had shown her the spells to properly care for and style her kind of natural curls and where to buy wixen dress robes.

Granger was the latest attractive witch Daphne was pointing out to her. Not that she appeared to be aware of what she was doing or the way she sounded.

At 14, the Yule Ball on occasion of the Triwizard Tournament was the first formal ball they were attending. It was only this summer, at 15, that they would be formally introduced to society and start attending balls and other formal events. It was tradition, so that, in the case a suitable match was likely, the subjects taken in preparation of their NEWTS could be chosen accordingly.

It also meant that they had not seen their fellow students as dressed up but either in their school robes or casual robes on the weekends. And Daphne, it seemed, was rather worked up by how good some of the other witches looked.

Tracy wondered if it was a good sign for her, a sign that, like her, Daphne was also interested in witches. She wondered what Daphne’s first reaction had been when she’d seen her in her dress robes. “I’ll get us something to drink.”

She was considered the options when a glass was held out to her. “Drink?”

“Zabini.” She nodded in greeting. She frowned when she noticed the smell. “Does that contain alcohol?”

“One of the upper years gave me a class from the spiked drinks when they overheard Draco’s rant about Potter. I figured I could share with someone in the same position.”

Tracy considered him, then accepted the glass and took a sip. “Do you think they’ll get a clue anytime soon?”

“I really hope so.”

~*~

By the next Yule, Daphne had definitely recognized the reason for her preoccupation with the witches at the ball. Tracy was less sure about Malfoy having realized he had a crush on Potter. Men!

Unfortunately for Tracy, all Slytherin students were aware that Potter was telling the truth about the Dark Lord’s return. So, as a half-blood, she needed to keep her head down, to keep her distance from the other students, even those of Grey families like the Greengrasses. She couldn’t risk a fanatical blood-purist to take exception to a half-blood “trying to sully a proper pureblood heiress”.

She had to watch from the side-lines, watch Daphne start flirting with witches, watch her prepare to go to Hogsmeade with some, her only solace the looks of compassion she and Zabini exchanged.

~*~

She could practically feel the increasing cold and darkness by their 6th year. The knowledge that Malfoy was marked was a horrible reminder that things were escalating much more quickly than the last time. Then, it had been years before he had began marking students.

Her contact with Daphne had dwindled to just sharing a table in some lessons. Others, Zabini shared with her.

One day in early June, he covertly slipped a note to her.

‘Draco warned me something is happening soon. My family has a warded property in Italy, near a smaller local school there. Consider it.’

She hated it. She hated the thought of leaving, of losing her home, her dreams. Of perhaps never seeing Daphne again. But she had to live. Her family had to live.

That evening, she sent a letter to her family, then sat down to start on the one she would leave for Daphne.

~*~

“Are you all brain-damaged from the war?” Tracy demanded to know as she stormed out of the fireplace. “You can tell Malfoy that he better not pull Daphne into his clusterfuck of a life, just because he’s now trying to improve his family’s reputation.” She frowned at Blaise. “Or you could finally grow a pair and marry him yourself.”

Blaise didn’t look up from where he was spread out on a settee, reading. “Hello Davis. I see you’re well.” He briefly glanced up. “And it seems you’re getting along well with my grandmother and aunt.”

Tracy ignored his words, too pissed off still from the notice in the newspaper about an upcoming engagement between the Malfoy heir and Miss Greengrass. “Why the fuck haven’t you stopped them yet?”

“First of all, Narcissa Malfoy is the one who has reached out to the Greengrasses about an engagement between Draco and Astoria Greengrass. People have of course offered for Daphne’s hand as well but she’s made it clear she’s not interested. Second -”

He didn’t get to finish as the door flew open and Daphne Greengrass stalked in, a distressed house elf hurrying after her. “What are your intentions towards Tracy? I will castrate you with a spoon if you’re pressuring her in return for your help!” She was distracted from her fury when he drew his head back and laughed. It was enough for her tunnel vision to clear and for her to notice Tracy standing in front of the fireplace. She looked well, really well. Wherever Zabini had hidden her, it had allowed her time in the sun. Her skin had bronzed, a warm tone that had Daphne wanting to see the contrast it would be against her own paler skin.

“Daphne. Hi,” Tracy said.

“Hello,” Daphne managed.

Zabini stood up and stretched languidly. “Well, ladies, I’ll leave you to talk it out between yourselves.”

“Where are you going?” Daphne demanded, confused by his words. Talk what out?

He glanced back at them, offering Tracy a crooked grin. “Growing a pair.” With that, he left them alone.

“You... you look good,” Daphne said awkwardly when the silence got too oppressive for her. “I’m glad you’re okay, that you were safe.” She was still too furious at the thought of Tracy and Zabini to acknowledge his part in her being safe.

“Likewise.” Tracy slowly came a bit closer. “I was so worried about you, about what has happening here.”

“I heard you’re coming back to Britain?” She hated this awkwardness between them. They’d been so close before. It had taken Daphne an embarrassingly long time to realize but Tracy was her first love.

“I am, yes. Now that things have settled down, we can come home.”

“Will you and Zabini -? I mean, there are rumours about an engagement.” The words left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Engagement?” Tracy repeated. “Hell no. There is nothing between us. I’m not interested in men that way.” And neither, Tracy suspected, did he have an interest in women. “He’s a friend. A friend who had a way to keep me and my family safe from that madman.”

“Good. That’s good.” Daphne took a deep breath trying to calm her still racing thoughts. This visit had gone very different from what she had expected. She gathered her courage. They were alone. If she couldn’t be honest with Tracy, with who else? “I missed you. I was happy you were safe but I hated that I couldn’t have you beside me.” She paused, trying to read in her face what her chances were. “I would have you beside me always. As my... as my everything. My friend. My confidante. My wife.”

For one horrible, long moment Tracy just stared at her, then she crossed the distance between them with long strides. She tenderly cupped her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’d love nothing more.”

#femslashfebruary #Harry Potter #Tracy Davis/Daphne Greengrass #My writing

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im-the-king-of-the-ocean · 5 years

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Forget-Me-Not

Femslash Week Day 1: Flowers or Chocolate

Ship: Nana/OC, with an appearance of Barbara/Nomura

@talesofarcadiafemslashweek

There were certain things Nancy loved about being an old woman, and others she didn’t. She liked how life was slower, calmer. Less to worry about. But, she didn’t like her forgetfulness or bad eyesight. She liked sitting around and talking with other ‘geezers’ about whatever caught their fancy. She didn’t like how it seemed their time together was too short. Not enough. Never enough.

Every time she went to the park, to the little pavilion where they played chess, chatted, and munched cookies, it seemed like someone else was gone. Someone new always arrived, of course. Each new friend she’d made was wonderful, but still.

Nancy kept lots of photos of everyone in a scrapbook. To have a way to not forget when her memory failed her.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about the certainty that, one day, it would be her time to go too. All in all, she’d lived a long, fairly good, if a bit too peaceful for her liking (she’d often joked in her youth about all the grand adventures she’d surely go on…that never truly happened) life. She didn’t regret anything. Not even the hard things. Marriage had been bliss. Her husband always knew how to make her laugh. Being a mother, to the best little boy with shining curiosity in his eyes no less, well, that experience had been wondrous, even if it had been cut far too short.

Nancy promised herself, on the day she’d learned of the horrible, horrible news, that she would not depart this world until little Tobias was grown and going off to college. Her grandson had just lost the two most important people in his life. He would not lose her too. Not yet.

When it did come time for Toby to go on the next leg of his life, when she’d gotten home after the long drive back from his college, when she’d entered her empty (lonely) house, she’d felt a little lost.

She’d strong-armed and bickered with Death to stay just a little longer time and time again. Or, at least, that’s how she thought of it. She couldn’t actually communicate with the entity, of course. But, she did enjoy the occasional, mental conversation with a concept she’d imagined up.

Now, her main reason for staying was off on his own, and he was more than ready to learn independence. He loved her and she loved him in return, but it was time for Toby to forge his own path.

Nancy was proud of her grandson, of the man he’d grown up into.

Without him, though, in the quiet solitude of her house, she wondered what exactly she was supposed to do next. She was still here. Still wanted to be. But, it was just, her old bones were too old for a new adventure.

Weren’t they?

She should think so. One didn’t read adventure novels about old folks, after all. Too many joint problems and medications for traveling across the world to save it from evil or some such. Though, when she considered Arcadia in recent years, Nancy supposed she wouldn’t have to travel very far.

It irked her. She had life left. Gumption. She didn’t just want to sit around and wait for time to pass all day.

But, what could she do?

The answer came one sunny day in the form of a twig of forget-me-not, one of Nancy’s favorite flowers. She loved its little blooms, its soft shade of blue, everything about it really.

“I thought you’d like it,” the person giving it to her, a newcomer to Arcadia (who’d come to settle down and enjoy her later years peacefully running a flower shop - there’d been much gossip about her and if she knew how peculiar Arcadia could get when it saw fit), told Nancy. “I have a knack for picking the exact right flower for a person.” She waited only a moment before asking, “So, how I’d do?”

“I love it, dearie,” Nancy replied. And she did. It made her smile, which made the day a little nicer.

“I’m so glad!” The woman clapped her hands together. “I find it just a tad harder here in Arcadia to match people and flowers than anyplace else I’ve been to.” She admitted with a pout. “I’ve traveled all over the world, yet, I believe this town is the most eccentric I’ve ever lived in.”

Nancy smiled a knowing smile. “I suppose that it is. What is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sophie. Sophie Jones. I run the new flower shop up by the museum.” Sophie held out her hand. “And yours?”

“Nancy Domzalski.” Nancy took the offered hand. “I bake cookies.”

Sophie giggled. Something fluttered in Nancy’s heart that she hadn’t felt for a very long time. With her graying, chestnut brown hair barely contained by a large-brimmed hat, friendly smile, and twinkling hazel eyes, Sophie was rather cute.

“Well, Nancy, you should pay a visit to my shop sometime soon. I would love a chance to talk more.”

“So would I.” The words were out of Nancy’s mouth before she could stop them. She tried not to blush. She wasn’t a young school girl. Far from it!

Back, once upon a time, Nancy had explored romance to the fullest. Early in her dating career, she’d figured out she was attracted to anyone regardless of gender (it had taken decades and a grandson before the term ‘pansexual’ made its way to her, however). So, having a little crush on Sophie came as no surprise to her.

Nancy never thought to act on it. She doubted Sophie felt attraction similarly to how she did. It was best to just remain friends. The time for flirtation and romance in life had passed. It would be best to just enjoy the time they had together.

Oh, and that time, it was wonderful. So wonderful.

There was an ease with talking to Sophie that Nancy had with no one else. A way they could make each other laugh like no one else could. Nancy found herself spending hours in Sophie’s flower shop, chatting with her when things were slow, and helping out when they weren’t.

It was a slow day when Barbara Lake, and her girlfriend, Ms. Zelda Nomura, walked into the flower shop.

Nancy glanced quickly to Sophie. They hadn’t gotten a chance to discuss those things yet. Such matters had never come up on their own, and Nancy wasn’t certain how to bring them up. She bit her lip, worried about how Sophie would react to the queer couple.

“Hello.” Barbara led. Her girlfriend followed at a slow pace, tense and watchful as she generally was. “Nana—Nancy’s told me a lot about this place. I finally convinced Zelda to come.” She wrapped an arm around Nomura’s shoulders. “She loves flowers, but she’s really picky.”

“I am not.”

“Shush. Yes, yes you are.”

Sophie smiled at them. “Come, come.” She gestured the couple forward. “I’m sure I have something that will suit you perfectly.”

Nancy couldn’t help but smile as she watched Sophie work. She loved listening to her talk about flowers. The exuberance that came into her voice. The determination when she realized she had a challenge on her hands, and Barbara and Nomura certainly were a challenge.

Barbara may be a woman content with receiving just about any flower, but Nomura was not. Of all Arcadia’s citizens, the museum curator was one of the most reserved and private. Not an easy person to pick out a gift for, to say the least. Perhaps that’s why Barbara had brought her along to the flower shop. That, or they were enjoying a day out together.

Eventually, Sophie sent the couple on their way with a small bouquet of moonflowers.

“They’re a lovely couple,” Nancy said, as Sophie approached her. “It took them quite a while to figure out they liked each other like, though. I wish you could have been here while they were. It was quite the sight to see.”

“Hmm. That reminds me of another couple I know.”

“Oh? Who?”

Sophie leaned in close to Nancy. “Us,” she whispered before lightly kissing Nancy.

Nancy’s heart hammered. First with joy. Then with fear. Her thoughts raced. She wanted this. Oh, how she wanted this. But, but all the possibilities for the future swarmed into her head. She felt her breath catch in her throat. She could see Sophie smiling at her, and then that smile faltering with uncertainty. She wanted—she could—she shouldn’t—she—

Nancy fled.

The time for romance in her life had passed. Nancy had accepted that. She was okay with that. Did they really have the time to figure out the complexities of a relationship anyway? Could they even try? Sophie wanted to. Well, she did. She probably didn’t want to anymore. Not after how Nancy reacted to her kiss. Apparently, Nancy wasn’t too old to do something she’d regret.

Maybe it was better this way. They were just going to hurt each other at some point. It was inevitable. Such was life. People eventually left each other. It was the way of things. No one was immortal.

But, then, Nancy believed that was why one should appreciate the time they did get with their loved ones. She appreciated every single day she’d gotten with her husband, her son, her grandson. Cherished her time with to the fullest. She may not get as many days with Sophie, but those that she would get, weren’t they worth the endeavor?

It was okay to be afraid. Fear is a natural emotional response. It wasn’t so good to let fear rule oneself.

The little bell of the flower shop chimed as Nancy walked in through the door.

Sophie looked up at her entrance. “How may I…oh, hello, Nancy.”

“I—I came to apologize for the other day.” Nancy approached the counter. “I…you surprised me. I, um, I got scared and I reacted poorly.” She made eye contact with Sophie. “I’m very sorry.” She put a heart-shaped box of chocolates down on the counter between them. “These aren’t very good for either of us, but I remembered how you told me you love boxes of chocolate, because you like being surprised by what you get. I was hoping, maybe, we could share it? That is, if you want to. If you don’t, that’s alright too. I’ll just leave it and go.”

Sophie cupped Nancy’s cheek in her hand. “I would love to share it, Nance. I’ll admit, I was hurt when you ran off the other day.” She took Nancy’s hands in her own. “But life’s too short and it’s never too late for a new adventure.”

#trollhunters #tales of arcadia #toafemweek #nana domzalski #my OC #nana/oc character #barbmura #whirls writing

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quarterfromcanon · 5 years

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Habits

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 25 - Pet Name [3,599 words]

“Wanna get high and help me name my starfish?”

Valencia lifted her eyebrows. The sight of Heather on the doorstep toting an aquarium and a backpack full of recreational materials was not what she’d expected to find outside her apartment that night. However, after the recent decrease in communication between them, the surprise was far from unwelcome. “Hello to you, too.” She stepped aside to allow her friend to pass.

Heather carefully set her new sea creature atop the kitchen counter, under the cabinets. She gauged the distance from there to the living room and nodded to herself. “She’ll be safe here,” Heather elucidated upon noticing Valencia’s quizzical response.

“I should preface by saying I don’t smoke pot. Or anything else, for that matter.” Valencia returned to the couch. She turned off the TV and tossed aside several throw pillows to make room for a second occupant.

Her unexpected guest took the vacant spot and put her book bag on the floor. “I can teach you,” Heather volunteered as she withdrew the supplies from their hiding places.

Valencia glanced at her stack of rented DVDs beside an empty takeout box. Meanwhile, Heather rummaged through unseen contents and grumbled about the stash slipping all the way to the bottom. Valencia watched her for a moment - hair falling over her cheek, biceps still bearing indents from the heavy fish tank, a faint trace of spilled water across her shirt - and reached a conclusion. She rearranged the clutter on her coffee table. “All right. I wasn’t really doing anything tonight anyway.”

“That’s the spirit,” Heather remarked dryly. She produced a purple lighter, papers, cardboard, glue, and the sought-after Ziploc bag. “Before we get started, do you have cucumbers?”

Valencia blanched. “One, I think. Why?”

“It’s good for the dry mouth effect,” Heather explained. “That and water. But we need to prep ahead of time because you do not wanna be wielding a sharp knife when you’re on this stuff.”

“Got it. I’ll take care of those and you can finish setting up here.” Valencia departed for the kitchen, feeling strangely observed by the starfish in the corner. She sliced enough cucumber to cover a plate and put the rest of the produce back in her fridge. Once a water bottle was tucked under each arm, she shuffled to the living room with the dish balanced on her palm. Valencia positioned one drink on each end of the table. She set the plate in the center.

Heather held a finished product and the lighter in her hands. She sparked a small flame, touched the fire to the end of the paper, and twiddled the joint in circles between her thumb and forefinger. Heather talked Valencia through the breathing counts by likening it to yoga. Then she detailed the best inhalation technique for drawing the hit into her lungs.

Valencia worked to commit the advice to memory despite mounting uncertainty. She gave Heather’s demonstration full attention and tried to duplicate it once the second toke was offered to her. The sputtering aftermath seemed unavoidable, but it could’ve been worse without the tutorial.

“Why do you have a starfish?” Valencia asked once the cough subsided.

“Marine Biology. She’s basically the biggest part of my grade for the next three months.”

“Important starfish.” Valencia flexed her fingers. Her brow furrowed at the subtle numbness in her extremities.

“Yeah. We get to refer to them by name in our reports, so I’m trying to figure out something that’s, like, academically serious but still reflects her personality.” Heather contemplated the tank from a distance. “Oh, right, I almost forgot.” She fumbled with a different compartment of her bag and tossed Valencia a hefty paperback.

Valencia missed the catch. The purchase whacked the corner of the couch, causing it to ricochet into her lap. “What’s this?”

“I thought it might give us a place to start.” Heather twisted the cap off her water and chugged.

Valencia held the book away from her face. Her eyes went slightly crossed at the number emblazoned across the front. “One million... No, wait, damn it. Not that many zeroes. One hundred thousand baby names? Holy crap! Heather, I don’t think people consider this many options for their human children.”

“They do according to the store where I bought our mid-high munchies.”

Valencia tried to whistle but couldn’t accomplish the sound. She gave up the effort and shook her head instead. “We’re going to be here a while.”

Heather plucked up two slices of cucumber. She pressed one against Valencia’s palm. “We’ve got time.”

Valencia followed the unspoken command and sampled the serving. She grabbed Heather’s wrist. “This tastes like rain.”

Heather snorted. “What?”

“Try it.”

Heather complied and her eyes widened. “It does.”

They consumed a few more before Valencia’s elbow bumped the book and she remembered their intended task. “Oh shoot. We were supposed to be finding a name for your little buddy.” Her forehead creased as she attempted to concentrate. “What kind of name?”

“Maybe we could start with real stars?”

“The celebrity kind or wish-upon-a?”

Heather cackled but held up two fingers. “That one.” She leaned against the pile of throw pillows. “Polaris. Vega. Mira.”

“The Sun,” Valencia added tentatively.

“Also true.”

“How about the word for star in other languages?”

“What would that be in Spanish?”

“Estrella.”

Heather leaned forward until she could see her starfish in the water. “Estrella,” she repeated, dragging out the final vowel. “I kinda dig that.”

“We have a keeper?”

“I think so.”

Valencia pouted at the tome under her hand, still unopened. “Well, that was easy.” She chucked it away. The thunk of impact when the book slid to the bathroom door made them giggle.

They readjusted on the couch until they were angled toward one another, legs overlapped at the ankle.

“You know, before you showed up tonight, I kind of wondered if maybe you were mad at me,” Valencia admitted.

Heather reached for the joint where it rested at the edge of their shared plate. “Why would I be upset with you?”

Valencia frowned. “I don’t know. We haven’t been hanging out lately, and I guess I got worried. I haven’t seen you since Rebecca and I came back from investigating Anna.”

“Things got kinda busy after that.” Heather exhaled slowly. “Speaking of getting busy, how was that barfly rando you left with? Rebecca was all pouty you turned her down for Friday Night Lights to get laid. Because, y’know, priorities.”

“We didn’t really do anything.”

“He passed out before things got to that point? The guy was pretty far gone already.”

“No, he was conscious when I saw him last.” Valencia sighed and lolled her head to the side. “I panicked and ditched him in the parking lot.”

Heather traced the design on the nearest pillow. Her head bobbed almost imperceptibly with every rise and fall of the stitching, as if she were experiencing each crest and valley like a winding road. “Why’s that?”

“I didn’t know how to go through it.” Heather gave her a dubious look and they both laughed. Valencia rolled her eyes. “Well, okay, I knew how, but I’ve never had a one-night stand in my life. He was all over me under the lamppost and it was like I was out of my body thinking, ‘What am I going to do? Invite this not-so-sexy stranger back to my place and pray he’s not a murderer?’ I don’t even remember what excuse I made. I just bolted and shouted something over my shoulder. Locked my car doors and sped off.”

Heather stifled a snicker with a fist against her mouth. “Wow. That was a next level hard pass.”

Valencia hid behind her fingers, wincing. “I know. I feel bad but, at the same time, I don’t regret it.” She lowered her arms and twitched her shoulders. “So Josh has some hot new girlfriend and I’m still single. Who gives a shit? Let her put up with the sports clutter all over the house and his annoying nostalgia for his mom’s Bagel Bites.” Valencia paused with a wistful expression. “Oh, but those do sound good right now.”

Heather plunged a hand into her backpack and produced a recognizable red box with a yellow label.

Valencia’s jaw dropped. “You’re a genius.”

They went to the stove and arranged the treats on a pan. Valencia set the oven to preheat then hopped onto the counter with her legs dangling over the ledge. Heather visited her pet. “Hey, Estrella, how’re you doing over here? V, check it out. I think she kinda moved a little. She answered when I called her.”

Valencia beamed and tapped her shoes against the lower level cabinets. “I’m glad she likes it.”

“Since you picked the name, it feels like that makes you an honorary part of this.” Heather slid her fingertips across the cool glass. “Like a godmother or something.”

“Except we didn’t have to immerse her in water for the christening. She’s already there.”

“Maybe, for ocean life, you’re supposed to lift them to the sky? Sorta like Simba.”

“I’m not reaching in there.” Valencia shook her head emphatically until dizziness made her stop. “Let’s just pretend we did.”

“It’s the thought that counts.” Heather bent low to drape her arms along the counter in front of the tank. She folded both hands beneath her face and stared at the grains of sand.

Valencia studied Heather with heightened sensory detail. The soft, even sound of her breath reached Valencia’s ears as if there were only centimeters between them. She became convinced it might be possible to count Heather’s eyelashes from afar. Everything was so bold and focused when she looked closely -- the small mole visible beyond the opening in Heather’s deep-cut tank top and another on her neck, the subtle indentation in her chin, the slope of her nose, the piercing through her perfectly sculpted eyebrow, and the way the light bounced off the water to dance across her skin.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Valencia mumbled.

Heather turned to her with a smile. “And you’re high as fuck.”

Valencia considered the current perch she occupied and gulped. Her muddled thoughts latched onto a more literal interpretation of the word ‘high.’ She became suddenly anxious. “I don’t know if I can get down from here.”

Heather moved to stand before Valencia. She braced her knees and extended her arms. “On three?”

Valencia jumped off without warning. Heather yelped when Valencia’s feet landed on hers, but she steadied her companion with a firm grip regardless. “I didn’t count,” she croaked.

“Sorry.” Valencia pulled away slightly to look into Heather’s eyes, but not far enough to break the hold.

Beep.

Heather dropped both hands to her sides. “Oven’s ready.”

Valencia blinked and nodded. She slid the pan onto the metal rack and closed the door. Then she settled cross-legged on the laminate to stare through the foggy glass at their food.

Heather laughed. “Dude, you’ve gotta set the timer first.” She punched in the appropriate number of minutes and offered to help Valencia rise from the floor. “C’mon, let’s wait in the living room.”

Valencia accepted Heather’s assistance but felt a strange pang when her friend’s fingers released hers once more.

They flopped on the couch. Heather flailed as the stacked throw pillows came tumbling down over her head. “Your furniture is attacking me.”

Valencia guffawed but angled forward to rescue Heather from the onslaught. They batted half the square cushions in various directions until only the ones supporting Heather’s spine remained. Valencia took in the mess and her lower lip protruded. “Wait, I didn’t leave any for me to lean on.”

Heather shifted to the left and patted the empty space beside her. “Just share mine. This thing is like a gigantic bench. We can both fit next to each other.”

Valencia snuggled into place. “Okay.” She rested on her side and hummed contentedly. Her arm wound across Heather’s middle. “You’re so warm. The last person who was on this couch with me was Josh.” Valencia stuck out her tongue. “I’m so much happier with my girl. You and Rebecca are way better company.”

Heather tensed. The bridge of her nose scrunched and her eyelids clamped shut. “V, I have something I’ve got to tell you. But I think you should take another hit first.”

Valencia made a grabby gesture in the air. Heather responded to the silent request and fetched the joint for her. Valencia took a drag with remarkably improved technique and only minor throat clearing. She passed it back to Heather, who indulged in another toke before freeing her hands again. “So, what did you want to say?” Valencia prompted.

Heather grimaced. “Okay, so, you know Anna?”

Valencia’s mouth turned down at one corner. “Unfortunately. What about her?”

“She’s gone.”

“She died?”

“No, no.” Heather waved the misunderstanding aside. “She broke up with him.”

“Oh.” Valencia’s eyebrows rose. “So Josh will finally have to figure out how to be on his own. It’s about damn time.”

Heather took a deep breath. “Not quite.”

“He’s already with someone new? That is so typical.” Valencia scoffed and folded her arms.

Heather met her gaze. Her features were etched with sympathy. “Valencia, it isn’t someone new.”

Valencia struggled to comprehend what that meant. She had to speak the thought process aloud just to make sense of it. “Somebody old? An ex. But Josh only has two of those and he’s not with me so...” The realization washed over her with painful understanding. “Rebecca?”

Heather inclined her head in confirmation.

“But we connected,” Valencia protested feebly. “We refreshed. We healed.”

“I know.”

Valencia pushed her fingertips against her temples. The truth kept slipping in and out of her grasp, a devastating déjà vu she instinctively fought to reject. “When?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Heather sank deeper into the couch. “Rebecca was staying with Paula right after she kicked Scott out, and I got this text about Josh going over there to find her.”

“He ran right from one woman to another. Again.” Valencia’s lip curled.

“That’s what I tried to tell her when I texted back.” Heather tugged off her beanie and clenched it in her fist. “But you know how that goes. You try to stop Rebecca doing a thing and she doubles down. They’ve started going out in public and I didn’t want you to see without knowing ahead of time...” Heather draped her palm over Valencia’s left wrist. “I’m so sorry, V.”

It took additional effort due to her dulled sense of touch, but Valencia found Heather’s hand with her right and clasped. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. No one else showed up at my door to be honest, but you’re here.”

Heather studied the place where their skin met in silence, but there was still intense guilt and regret behind her eyes.

Valencia let her forehead fall against Heather’s arm. She felt Heather’s chin rest near her scalp. “I’m really lucky to have you,” Valencia murmured.

“Same here.”

Beep.

Heather’s laugh escaped on a tremulous exhale. “Oh, shit. The bagels.”

Valencia returned to the kitchen. Heather moved from the couch to the chair where she could monitor snack-related proceedings. Valencia opened the oven and squinted as heat spilled from the interior.

“Don’t forget you need those glove thingies,” Heather cautioned.

“Good call.” Valencia pulled the handle of a nearby drawer and found her floral pair of oven mitts. She moved the tray over the burners then leaned her hip against the counter while she waited for everything to cool. “Heather, what am I going to do?”

“... Eat the Bagel Bites?”

“No. I mean, yes, I am, because they look and smell like a dream. But the Rebecca and Josh thing.” Valencia wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I’ve only got enough room in my head for one thought at a time -- like how I’m pretty sure I can hear the cheese sliding down that far left bagel right now -- but tomorrow’s going to be different. I can’t stay high indefinitely to avoid this.”

Heather nodded. “I think you’ve gotta let yourself feel your feelings. If you wake up sad, have a good cry. If you wake up pissed, go kickboxing or something and let all that aggression out. They’re gonna want your forgiveness, but you don’t have to give that to them until you’re ready. They need to respect your emotional right to cope in whatever way works best. Both of them hurt you, and they don’t get to dictate the self-care required to recover from that.” She looked down at where she was sitting and smiled. “I’m like textbook armchair psychologist right now, literally and figuratively.”

Valencia’s lips twitched. She dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Heather tilted her head to the side and her eyebrows quirked. “Okay. That is a feeling. Not any of the ones I was expecting, but like, do your thing.”

“It’s not that,” Valencia clarified as she gasped for oxygen. “I just realized something.”

“What?”

“Heather Davis. HD. Your initials are the same as High Definition.” The amusement overtook her again. Valencia whimpered at the resultant sting behind her rib cage. She ran her wrist under both eyelids while Heather chuckled appreciatively. “I’m sorry; the weed is just making that weirdly funny to me for some reason. But I think I have your new contact name for my phone.”

“It’s perfect. Go for it.”

Valencia tried to access her back pocket and ended up patting her jeans in confusion. “Wait, I can’t find it.”

“That’s because you’ve still got your Minnie Mouse hands on.”

“My...?” Valencia held out her arms and realized she still wore her patterned oven mitts. “Oh! Crap. Hang on, how do I take this one off when my fingers are stuck in the other one?”

Heather wheezed. “Don’t worry. I’ll come help you, you confused cartoon character.”

She walked over to catch hold of the troublesome material. “Pull.”

Valencia wrenched her hands free and gave an excited shout. “Yay, they’re back!”

Heather patted Valencia’s shoulder. “I think they were there the whole time.”

“Probably.” Valencia gasped, making Heather jump. “Hey, do you know where we should eat these bagels? Under the dining room table.”

Heather’s eyebrows drew closer together. “Don’t people usually put their food on top of the table?”

“Doesn’t matter. This will be better. Trust me.” Valencia wandered off with the pan in both hands.

Heather stood still for a minute while she tried to trace the logic behind the suggestion. Ultimately, she shrugged and followed Valencia’s lead. She passed through the living room, grabbed the two water bottles along the way, and sidestepped the Venetian screen. Valencia was already there, dragging two living room pillows and a thin blanket alongside her as she crawled out of sight.

“It’ll be like a fort,” Valencia reasoned. “Just us against the rest of the world. Only you, me, and modified food starch allowed.”

Heather shook her head affectionately. “Stoned you is basically a junk food craving third grader. I love it.”

Valencia’s face poked into view. “If you’re cootie-free and you know the password, you can join me.”

“Is the password ‘pizza,’ by any chance?”

“Duh. Get down here before I polish them all off myself.”

Heather ducked past the surrounding chairs, back bent to keep her head from bashing against the table. “You’re right; this is so much more comfortable.”

Valencia put a Bagel Bite against Heather’s lips. “Why be full of sarcasm when you can be full of mozzarella?”

“You have a point.” Heather caught the bagel between her teeth and groaned.

“Good, huh?”

Heather popped the remainder into her mouth and held two thumbs up. “Best three dollars and ninety-seven cents I’ve ever spent.” She tossed Valencia a water bottle and they drank.

Conversation fell by the wayside as they ate across the rows of mini pizzas. By the time they got down to the last few, they were both stretched out on their sides with one elbow propped against their respective pillows. Valencia finished her final bagel and shifted to a reclined position. “This table fort might have to double as a cave. I think I could hibernate from now to spring.”

Heather stowed the empty pan atop a chair, clearing the path for them to get more comfortable. “Sign me the fuck up. Home Base and Miss Douche can figure out how to get by without me until, like, at least mid-March.” She hugged the throw pillow and settled on her stomach. Valencia fanned the blanket over their legs. “So it’s cool if I crash here?” Heather checked, eyelids fluttering closed despite her best efforts to prevent them from doing so.

“Of course.” Valencia got situated with one hand flung above her head. Her natural sleeping position accidentally brought their arms into contact again. She debated moving a few inches to allow more room between them for sleep. However, since Heather didn’t seem to mind their proximity and Valencia found the nearness comforting, she let it go.

A few minutes ticked by without a single noise, save for their relaxed breathing. Valencia was on the brink of dozing, but she licked her lips and tried to express one last sentiment. It traveled through the stillness in a whisper. “Heather?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for trying to protect me.”

Heather drowsily rolled to the side, bumping against Valencia in a slow motion body-check before returning to her spot. “No problem. Everyone needs someone in their corner, right? You can count on me.”

#H+V FF #CEG Writing by Me #Helencia #Heather x Valencia #I let these two enjoy substance intake and they invariably shift back and forth #between intense heart-to-hearts and stumbling around being spaced-out goobers #but I wouldn't have it any other way.#:P #Also asdfghkjl;#My laptop went on the fritz for days after writing this and my phone wouldn't save edits #but at least I've got access to this one for now so I can finally post!#So here is an installment in which I deliberately went super literal with the interpretation instead of the term of endearment variety #basically because 1) This time period in canon has been on my mind a lot and 2) This scene was already planned but had yet to be written #plus it gave me a handy excuse to feature a headcanon that Valencia played a part in naming Estrella so #win/win all around. < 3

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jr4de · 6 years

Text

Hey there folks, this here’s a little thing I did for the Overwatch Femslash Exchange, an awesome project that I was excited to be a part of! It’s a mostly cute and silly piece, a date between Mercy and Sombra; some naughty implications in there (because, I mean, Sombra) but it’s SFW overall.

It’s for @hiddeninthunder! And I should tag @owfemslashexchange as well, who’re the people who organized this whole lovely thing, so go shoot them a thanks if you think this idea was cool. Read it below the cut!

Angela “Mercy” Ziegler sighed, sagging in her chair a little as she clicked through screen after screen of diagnostics, test results, computer simulations, and on and on and on.

“Virus seems,” she paused for a yawn, “to react to... Alpha-level inhibitors,” she muttered into a recorder, her chin slipping off of her hand and nearly falling to the desk, forcing her to sit abruptly upright with a sudden noise.

“You look tired.”

She turned around at the voice, low and warm, smiling when she saw Winston in her doorway. “Oh - I suppose I am,” she sighed, “but I just need to finish this bit of work before I head home to sleep.”

The other scientist, of whom she’d always been fond, cast his huge eyes toward the couch in her little office - covered in blankets and with a few pillows as well. “Uh, home. Sure.” He smirked and Angela sighed, opening her mouth to protest, but he waved her words away with a hand as he loped into the room.

“Don’t worry about it, I-” he chuckled briefly, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. “I know what it’s like to get caught up on a project and keep going far past the point of it being sensible.”

Angela actually laughed lightly at that, shaking her head. She knew she should’ve gone to sleep a while ago, but she was just on the edge of being able to direct the computers to run some more tests. Another twenty minutes of work on her part and the machines could be making progress while she slept, and she wanted that.

Twenty minutes. An hour, tops. Maybe two at the outside.

“I just need some coffee,” she groaned, rubbing at her eyes heavily with the balls of her palms. She smiled at Winston’s chuckle and his huge hand patting her on the shoulder, seeing bright spots and splotches that slowly resolved into his face.

“I’ll get you a pot,” he nodded, turning to head back to the door. “Black, double-strength-”

“-no cream, no sugar, no nonsense, yes,” Angela called after him. “Thank you, Winston! You’re a life-saver!”

They’d worked together on some projects before and formed a nice friendship - Winston wasn’t a doctor, but he was a good scientist and he had a good head on his shoulders, and had proved indispensable on solving a few problems. Particularly given that they tended to come up against some truly absurd problems here in Overwatch.

Angela returned her attention to the screen which was blurry at first, then wavy, and she rubbed at her eyes again with a heavy sigh. “Should’ve got coffee an hour ago,” she muttered to herself as she shook her head.

Of course, an hour ago, she’d thought she only had ten minutes of work left.

In lieu of hot caffeinated goodness, Angela leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms up over her head and groaning as sore muscles and ribs complained for the first few seconds but then started to relax and feel better, and the groan shifted to a sigh instead.

She didn’t expect a voice in her ear, warm and smooth. “Hey, chica.”

Between the shock of hearing anything at all, and the further shock of it being the voice of who it was, and her precarious position, bad things were practically guaranteed. Angela jolted slightly when she heard Sombra’s greeting, twitching and sending her chair keeling over backward - she yelped and flailed, but there was nothing to grab on to.

She didn’t hit the ground, though. While there was nothing for her to catch, something else caught her - or rather, someone, as Sombra chuckled and waved her camouflage off, holding Angela in her arms.

“Careful there, angel,” the hacker grinned at Angela’s still-shocked expression, the light pink creeping into her cheeks. “Falling for me all over again, huh?”

“Sombra,” Angela half-whispered, half-groaned, glancing around nervously. “You can’t be here - how did you get here anyway? What if somebody finds you, what if-”

“Yeah, well, that’s what makes it exciting!” Sombra snickered, setting Angela’s feet down on the floor. The doctor ran immediately to the door, turning the lock and double-checking it, but it wouldn’t stay locked forever if somebody wanted it open - Athena could override that, and she knew it.

“You need to leave,” she hissed, peeking through the door’s peephole. “I think the hallway’s clear, you can-”

Sombra interrupted her, waving a hand and bringing several screens up. Screens which showed the hallways of Overwatch’s Gibraltar facility. “Oh, oh yeah,” the hacker murmured, “the hallways are clear. Not that it matters to me anyway - come on, amiga, you know me better than that, I could get out any time.”

“Yes, I know, and you need to,” Angela insisted, turning away from the door. She had planned on protesting further, but was stopped when she noticed Sombra’s exaggerated pout. “What?”

“You haven’t even said hello yet!” Sombra crossed her arms, sticking her lip out even further. “You’re gonna make a girl feel unwanted at this rate.”

Angela let out a noise somewhere between a groan, a sigh, and a laugh as she crossed the floor quickly to her girlfriend. She wrapped the hacker up in a brief hug. “Hello, Sombra, it’s lovely to see you, but this was an incredibly dangerous plan and maybe a little bit stupid, and,” she withdrew from the hug to peck a kiss on Sombra’s pouting lip.

Sombra, however, wasn’t quite happy with just a peck. Her arms uncrossed and she caught the back of Angela’s head, holding it there for a moment - holding them in the kiss as their mouths shifted against each other with a host of soft noises. She felt a triumphant little thrill as Angela’s fingers finally twisted into her hair and the doctor sagged into the embrace.

Angela got too distracted by her work sometimes and Sombra knew it - she’d seen it time and time again over the months they’d been together, and she was happy to help break her girlfriend out of it a little.

Plus, she just liked kissing.

They held it for another few moments before parting somewhat breathlessly, grins replacing their former expressions. “Now that’s a hello I can get behind,” Sombra murmured appreciatively.

Angela giggled, blushing slightly as she dropped her hands to catch Sombra’s. “It- this really was a sweet plan, but you can’t-”

“Oh come on! You don’t even know the plan yet,” Sombra pointed out with a grin, tugging Angela over toward the couch. “C’mon, sit - I’ve got eyes on the whole facility. Nothing’s gonna happen, relax.”

Angela didn’t really want to relax, but she knew she probably should and it was so difficult to say no to Sombra when she had that grin on, and that twinkle in her eyes. Angela forced herself to sit (nervously) on the blanket-covered couch, watching (nervously) as Sombra stepped around the couch and Angela could only wonder (nervously) whether anyone else would stop by.

They usually didn’t, when she was working on things, and it was late as well. Somewhere near midnight - a glance at the clock showed it to be one-thirty, in fact. Probably nobody would be up and around except for her, Tracer, and Winston. It helped ease her nerves a little.

What helped more than that, though, was everything that Sombra started doing - she came back around the couch with a wicker basket in hand, and immediately had Angela’s curiosity. Sombra pulled out a white-and-red checkered sheet from the basket and laid it out on the floor, and Angela started giggling. When Sombra started to pull out candles and light them, Angela tried to help, but the hacker waved her off.

“Hey! No, you stay sitting, angel,” Sombra insisted. “Hardly a surprise picnic if you’re doing half the work!”

Angela had to laugh at that, shaking her head softly as her grin grew and grew. Sombra had proved to be unexpectedly sweet and delightful in their time together - she had a front of aloofness, certainly, and there were certain extents to which that was true. She was definitely a deeply passionate person, but that translated into more than just deep kisses and frantically grasping hands.

It also meant little gifts whenever she came back from travels, it meant hidden surprises to be found, it meant a constant kind of thoughtfulness and attention which never failed to make Angela’s heart swell.

Candles, lit; white wine, poured; sandwiches and a platter of cheese and crackers, laid out. Then, Sombra sat down with a grin and looked up to Angela on the couch. “Well? You gonna join me, angel?”

The doctor laughed again as her heart leapt slightly at the little epithet, feeling more awake and lighter than she had in hours as the concern and stress sloughed from her mind. “Of course I will,” she replied with a smile. “It would be quite rude to refuse such a feast.”

“Damn straight it would,” Sombra chuckled, “but uh, y’know, I kinda just ate, so actually both these sandwiches are for you.”

Again, Angela laughed, sitting down on the blanket and taking a glass of wine in hand - she noticed a thermos in the basket as well, and wondered what it was, but that could wait. She raised her glass with a smile as Sombra did the same with a grin, and they clinked them together.

“To dangerous but wonderful surprises,” Angela teased lightly, drawing a laugh from Sombra’s painted lips.

“Hey, that’s my middle name, chica,” the hacker shot back with a grin, tipping back her glass for a swig. Wine wasn’t exactly her thing, but she made an effort at it at least - and it was alright. She was learning to like it more and more.

“Mm, quite a mouthful, that name,” Angela smirked as she took a sip, sighing through her nose. A nice crisp Zinfandel, perfectly chilled, and she wasn’t surprised. Sombra had a good eye for details. Despite her chaotic appearances she was actually quite precise.

“Speaking of mouthfuls, eat up,” Sombra insisted, shuffling around the blanket to be behind Angela. “C’mon, I know you, chica - I bet you haven’t eaten in eight hours.”

“I-I ate dinner!” Angela blushed lightly at the teasing.

“Yeah? What? And when?”

“I- well-” Angela frowned slightly, picking up one of the sandwiches. “I hardly keep a journal of it all. I don’t remember exactly.”

She didn’t, either, genuinely didn’t remember exactly but she was pretty sure it had been around six and she’d only had a bowl of soup, and didn’t really want to admit to that.

Sombra, laughing, snapped her fingers. “Luckily, you’ve got me looking after you,” she murmured over Angela’s shoulder as a screen floated in front of them - security footage from the mess hall of a certain blonde-haired doctor eating a (small) bowl of soup at five forty-eight in the afternoon.

“So, maybe not quite eight hours,” Sombra murmured as Angela sighed a laugh. Then the hacker started to rub at her shoulders and the laugh shifted into a groan as Angela slumped backward into her grip.

For a few moments, they both happily let the meal go forgotten. Sombra worked the balls of her thumbs deep into tight knots in Angela’s shoulders and down her back, and as she did she peppered light kisses down her neck, over the edge of her ear, on every patch of skin she could reach.

Angela sighed and stretched an arm back, running fingers through Sombra’s hair and holding her head in against her neck, letting out a slight gasp when a soft kiss was emphasised by a little nip of teeth. The gasp swiftly shifted to a laugh as Angela twisted to the side a little so she could turn her head over and meet Sombra’s eyes with a grin. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

“Not for a sandwich,” Sombra responded in a deep and warm murmur, eyes twinkling, “but I could definitely eat…”

Angela laughed brightly, slapping at Sombra’s shoulder and sitting upright. “You’re incorrigible!” Still, she couldn’t deny that the idea was a good one. It had been a very long day, and just having Sombra close meant her heart was running a little faster, her blood feeling warmer than it had. It would be all kinds of wonderful to cuddle up underneath the blankets on the couch.

There was still the slight fact that she was technically trespassing, though, and Angela really didn’t want to broach that particular topic with her coworkers and teammates at the moment. Things weren’t quite as they seemed when it came to Sombra, but they didn’t know that, so it was easiest to just keep their relationship hidden.

Even if that meant they didn’t get to see each other as often as either of them might’ve liked.

Angela sighed slightly as she picked up the sandwich again, Sombra’s hands dropping to her sides, her ribs, massaging lightly still. She felt energized at the contact, brighter and better than she had minutes ago.

“Thanks for this,” she murmured softly, before taking a bite of the sandwich and even surprising herself with the moan that came out. Her stomach jumped at the idea of food and she took another bite, larger, and focused on chewing it down as quickly as possible.

Sombra chuckled, shuffling forward to rest her chin on Angela’s shoulder, legs on either side of her and arms wrapped around her torso. “No problem, chica, I just wanted to see you and - I mean, hey, who doesn’t want to pull of a romantic picnic for their girl every now and then, huh?” She snickered before squeezing her girlfriend lightly. “Hey, you might wanna slow down there. Not so romantic to choke to death on a sandwich, y’know?”

With a laugh, Angela shook her head, blushing slightly. “Sorry, I just- it’s very good, and as it turns out, I am quite hungry.”

Snickering again, Sombra planted a soft kiss on the back of her neck, grinning as the hairs there stood up on end at her passing. “Yeah, I figured you would be.” She didn’t have any real concerns over Angela choking, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease her a little.

For the next few minutes, she just held on and breathed deeply, nuzzling against the back of Angela’s neck, getting whiffs of laboratory and operating room, and soap that had faded over the past two days or so, sterilizers and ozone from the electrical equipment, vanilla and cinnamon from somewhere. Sombra doubted it was baking, but it brought a smile to her lips anyway, all of it. Her favourite scents in the world.

After she was done eating, Angela took Sombra’s hands in hers and squeezed at them gently. “All finished now. Here, come and-” she dropped the sentence, but not Sombra’s hands. Those, she tugged on gently, standing and pulling Sombra over to the couch.

They slumped down to it, the cushions squished and formed by hundreds of hours of Angela’s sleeping form on top of it. She grabbed a couple of the blankets and wrapped them both up like a burrito, and then sighed with perfect contentment as they settled in to just lay there.

One of Sombra’s arms slipped up underneath the hem of her shirt, palm flat against her side and stroking up her ribs. The little bit of skin contact was so lovely, it felt warm and comforting, and Angela unbuttoned her shirt thoughtlessly as she kissed at Sombra’s forehead and stroked at her hair.

The hacker took advantage of the opportunity quickly, dipping down to kiss Angela on the now-exposed shoulder before sitting up just enough to shuck off her own shirt. When she laid back down again, she slid a bare arm behind Angela’s back and laid her head down on the doctor’s shoulder, wrapping her other arm around the front in a tight embrace.

“Much better,” she murmured, nuzzling her cheek against skin that was interrupted by only a bra strap. Angela laughed and nodded, stroking her fingertips lightly up and down the soft, warm skin of Sombra’s ribs and inhaling the scent of her hair. Something fruity, tangy - kiwi, maybe, Angela wasn’t quite sure, but she knew she loved it.

“You really should leave before you get found,” Angela whispered, but the insistence had bled from her voice. Replacing it was a tired sort of resignation, and it was echoed in Sombra’s sigh.

“Yeah,” she grumbled, trying to burrow her head in deeper to Angela’s shoulder. “I know. I really am keeping an eye on things, though, but… yeah, I’ll leave in a bit.”

“Not too soon, please,” Angela smiled, the expression widening when Sombra looked up to her with a grin.

“‘Course not.” Sombra snickered, stretching her neck out to kiss Angela on the lips, just softly, just briefly.

Angela had somewhat different ideas, though. The hand at Sombra’s side rose to her hair and tangled there, holding her head, shifting it to the side, letting the kiss deepen. Sombra didn’t complain about that in the slightest, though - she let out a soft moan of approval, her lips sliding against Angela’s as she repositioned and ran a hand up her back, tracing the fine fuzz along her spine.

She knew Angela liked that. A second later she got the shiver and the little whine she’d been looking for, goosebumps breaking out across Angela’s skin.

“You should let me know next time you want to visit me at work,” Angela whispered breathlessly, parting the kiss just for a moment - Sombra’s mouth fell to her neck, though, kissing and sending bright waves of sensation rippling below her skin. “I can make more time, maybe take a break and head outside somewhere safer.”

Sombra chuckled, brushing her lips against goosebumped skin as she grinned. “Didn’t I already say? Half the fun’s in thinking you might get caught. Who wants a safe picnic? That’s boring - now, this,” she caught the back of Angela’s head with one hand and bit gently on her collarbone, laughing lightly at the groan which flew from the doctor’s mouth. “This is exciting!”

“I can’t- can’t disagree with you there,” Angela sighed, heat flooding her cheeks, her neck, her core, her everything, spreading out like flares from the sun as Sombra’s hands roamed over her skin and she returned the favour. They didn’t get to see each other often enough. They deserved to be uninhibited, unfettered, unhindered.

Unfortunately, fate has a sense of humour.

Angela’s eyes flew wide as there was a knock on the door.

“Doctor Z- uh, Angela? I brought the coffee. Are you alright? The uh… door’s locked?”

“Winston,” Angela hissed a whisper as Sombra grinned and waved, and then shimmered away into invisibility. “I, um-” Angela turned around on the couch to face the door, pulling the blankets up and over Sombra’s invisible form. “Come in,” she called out, “and err, door, unlock!”

The door unlocked itself at her command, Winston turning the knob a moment later with a curious and slightly concerned expression on his face. He had a large carafe of coffee in hand, but his expression split into a chuckle and a grin as he looked into the room.

“Oh, having a little nap?”

“Y-yes! Yes I am,” Angela grabbed onto the provided excuse tightly, even as Sombra started kissing at her ribs and belly. It wasn’t fair in the slightest, and Angela grabbed a tight fistful of purple hair under the covers, but that just spurred the hacker on.

“Sh-short nap, I think,” Angela continued with a light and forced laugh. “Twenty minutes or so.”

Sombra made a slight noise and bit her side.

“Or m-maybe more like forty minutes,” Angela corrected herself, stifling a noise. “Mm. Or an hour.” Sombra didn’t seem to react to that, so Angela laughed and nodded. “Yes, yes that would be best - sleep cycles and circadian rhythms and all that, it won’t do to sleep for too short a time, you know?”

Winston shrugged, not knowing much about that kind of stuff, but it made sense. Sometimes he woke up from a ten-minute nap feeling refreshed, but one that lasted half an hour left him feeling sloggy and dull. At the end of the day, he trusted Mercy to know what she was talking about when it came to medical things.

“Whatever you think’s best,” he shrugged, “the coffee should still be hot either way when you wake up. But, you know, uh… if you just go to sleep? Not such a big deal, I think.” He smirked. “You don’t need to work every hour of every day, you know.”

Angela laughed at his teasing words, and also to cover the fact that she wanted to gasp as Sombra started to unbutton her pants. “Yes, well, you know what they say - n-no rest for the wicked, ha!”

“Wicked, sure, yeah right,” he rolled his eyes and shook his head, ambling over on both feet and one fist and setting the carafe down on Angela’s desk next to the computer. “Just leave this here, shall I?”

“Excellent! Thank you, Winston.”

“No problem at all. Have a good nap or sleep or whatever, Angela.”

“Of course I will. Thank you. You can um- oh, lock the door on the way out.”

Winston chuckled as he headed out, waving over his shoulder. “I’ll let Athena know you’re not to be bothered for the rest of the night unless it’s an emergency!”

Then the door closed, and locked, and Angela immediately threw off the covers that were causing her to overheat now, and revealed Sombra’s grinning face.

“That was so mean!” Angela hissed, smacking at Sombra’s shoulders, but the hacker just laughed and curled up and took it.

“I know it was!” Sombra giggled and shook as Angela continued to smack ineffectually at her. “It was great!”

The laughter flowed freely as slaps softened until they were strokes and caresses, mouths losing their grins to become occupied with each other instead. With the door locked, with the knowledge that nobody would be coming their way, Angela was able to relax even more - which, after all, had been the point of the whole thing.

That, and to have a bit of fun, at least.

In the end, she even did nap, drifting off into unconsciousness afterward with Sombra curled up in her arms. The last thoughts in her mind were that soft, tangy, fruity scent of Sombra’s hair, the warmth of her skin and the slight difference where implants ran underneath it, and how incredibly wonderful it felt to just hold her like that.

She woke up an hour later, to her phone alarm gently sounding - wind chimes, a tune that brought a smile to her lips even though it wasn’t one she had picked. Sombra was gone, but she wasn’t really surprised to find that.

Angela stretched out with a yawn to grab her phone, flicking the alarm off thoughtlessly with a thumb. When it went away, though, the screen showed something else - a picture of her sleeping face taken over Sombra’s bare shoulder, the hacker grinning like a fool.

The photo was captioned “Morning, beautiful” and it made Angela giggle and grin, and immediately flick to her contacts to send a message.

“Thanks for this, so much. It was wonderful - I really needed a break, I think. Thank you.”

The response came only a moment later. “Hey, you can always count on me to help you avoid work!” Angela laughed at that, shaking her head as another message came through. “It was good though, yeah. We should do it again some time.”

Her cheeks were sore from grinning as she tapped out a response, pulling on a lap coat almost thoughtlessly. “Good idea! Are you free Tuesday?”

“For you? Always, angel.”

Angela sighed and pressed the phone to her chest, shaking her head softly and wondering how exactly she got so lucky. Yes, technically, Sombra was a wanted fugitive - but technically, so was she, so was Winston and Tracer and all of the others. Overwatch was illegal, but that didn’t mean it was wrong.

Yes, Sombra was helping Talon at the moment - or appeared to - but to the people in the UN, everyone in the reformed Overwatch was appearing to do all sorts of horrid things.

Something Angela had learned quite thoroughly was that there was more to life than appearances.

She smiled and set some music playing as she settled in her chair again, waking her computer from its sleep and picking up the recorder in hand. “Now, where was I? Let’s see… oh, yes: the samples of the virus which we have cultured seem to have a high level of response to Alpha-level inhibitors. More research is required to see whether this is correlative or causative. Of particular note are the effects of more complex compounds such as…”

There was a large part of her mind which had been trained in to this, switching in to research mode as easily as one might flick on a lightswitch, and that left the rest of her free to think about purple eyes and grinning lips, picnics and get-togethers, and little sweet souvenirs...

#Overwatch #Overwatch fic #Fanfiction #Original #My writing #Sombra #Mercy #Sombra/Mercy #I continue to hold true on my streak of sucking at Tumblr #hiddeninthunder #owfemslashexchange

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artlessictoan · 6 years

Note

Yodochou. Please

nonny….. you get what I’m about……………… thank you…………………………….

(femslash feb requests open all month!)

—

Yodochou - modern au

—

Chouchou sucked in the cool night air like she’d just beendrowning, and, in a way, she had.

The room was tiny, packed full of – by-now utterly wasted – partygoers,several bain maries, which were still radiating heat even though the food had long-sincebeen served, and a blasting music system that was probably causing globalwarming all by itself with how much needless shit was plugged into it.

And she still had to finish carting leftover food and emptytrays back to the kitchen and clean down, before she could finally escape and collapse into bed, hopefully not having to move aninch for at least two weeks.

But she had a few precious moments now to hide by the ventsand flap the hems of her stuffy uniform to get some cool air circulating aroundher.

The smell of smoke still lingered here, but it wasapparently too cold for any of the customers, in their thin shirts and shortdresses, to bother walking out to the designated smoking area, instead loiteringa few feet from the doors; she had briefly considered directing them to theright place, but if the managers and front-of-house weren’t gonna bother thenshe didn’t see why she should either.

At least it gave her a little time to let the exhaustion pullat her limbs and her face fall from its forced smile for a few minutes.

God her head waskilling her, she slammed it – way harder than she’d intended – against the coldmetal air duct beside her, the jolt it made shuddered and rang, shocking her migraineaway for a split second of relief and the cold soothing it once it tried toreturn.

“Ow.”

It took a few moments for her to register the tiny voice, blinkingat the dark metal in front of her eyes.

She glanced around, hoping that she hadn’t just been caughtlooking unimaginably unprofessional by a customer, but there were no darkshapes of a person hiding against a wall anywhere.

Was she just hearing things? Feeling more than a little stupid,she called out softly, “Uhh… hello?”

“…Wassup.”

Ok, that sounded veryclose, where the hell was this voice coming from? Maybe if she kept themtalking she’d be able to locate them and work out if she should be apologisingor calling the cops. “Not much, working, you?”

“Y’know… Stuff.”

There was a tiny cough, one that sounded weirdly… echoey. Shestepped back from the duct warily, eyeing the grille at the base of it – or rather,the black space that was supposed to bea grille.

One hand already sliding into her pocket to unlock her phone,she glanced around for any potential weapon, even as she crouched down, but, unableto find anything, she decided her fists would probably be good enough if itcame to that.

Chouchou took one last deep breath, before leaning over,bringing her phone to the opening and turning the torch on.

She didn’t quite catch the string of curses that were hissedat her, focused on scrutinising the face before her intently. A woman, young,dark skin, mess of short, curly hair that might’ve been blonde, or might justbe dusty from the vent, the blue of her eyes just visible as she squinted atthe blinding light.

Well, what the fuck now?

At least she wasn’t making any move to attack, the strangerjust slowly blinked until her eyes adjusted, looking over her the way Chouchou just had been.

“…Hey girl, do all angels glow so bright, or is that justyou?”

She honestly didn’t know whether to raise an unimpressedeyebrow, or snort; she settled for both. “I dunno, do the police know that theworld’s most inept heart-thief is on the loose?”

The woman winced, but she still managed a wide grin. “Ouch.”

Shuffling into a slightly more comfortable position,Chouchou examined her a little further, moving the light to try and see alittle further than her annoyingly cute face, but she couldn’t see very farbefore her body disappeared into pitch black. She could see enough to tell thatshe was wearing some kind of formal suit though.

“So. What the fuck. Are you with the wedding?”

The tiny hands squashed awkwardly between the floor of theduct and the lady’s chest waved in a way that was probably supposed to be dismissive,but just looked ridiculous. “Yeah. Ok look, ’m not actually a thief or anything,if I was then I’d use the wide-opendoor fifteen feet thataway-” one hand tried and failed to point in thedirection of the kitchen Chouchou had just left “-or, y’know, use the unlockeddoors in the bar.”

“Uh-huh, for someone who’s not a thief you’ve sure put a lotof thought into this,” she said, not quite sure why she was still here and notrunning for a manager, or security, or something.

Now that she was getting used to the light, she noticed thather big, clear eyes weren’t so much blue as green, with maybe a bit of grey inthere too, it was especially obvious when they rolled like that. “Yeah an’ hereI am, lying in a vent instead, so clearly I’m not a thief.”

“So what are you doing in there?”

It was a little hard to tell in the bad lighting, butChouchou was sure she could spot alittle blush on those freckled cheeks. “Uh… I was gonna… play a prank onsomeone…”

Her back was starting to ache a little from being bent overlike she was, but the longer she was down here the less and less inclined shefelt to get up and go get help. She couldn’t help grinning as she tried to makeherself a little more comfortable; almost certainly getting enough dirt on hertrousers to have the hotel’s food hygiene rating knocked down at least twopoints, but she’d deal with that problem later, right now she had much moreinteresting things to focus on.

“What, were you gonna wait for someone to wander past andleap out or something?”

The woman’s snort was loud, but she didn’t seem at allembarrassed by it. “Or somethin’, waiting for my uncle to come out for a smoke,I’m gonna grab his ankles and scare the living shit outta him!”

She could picture it in her mind already, skinny, clawinghands reaching out of a dark vent, it probably would be terrifying to the poor victim. “Sounds funny, but I’m afraidall the guests are just smoking by the doors. How long have you been in there?”

“…Uh, I dunno, can’t get my phone out of my pocket.”

Chouchou was trying so veryhard not to laugh. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“No, I can get outany time I want!”

“Prove it.”

Well, that glare of hers was deadly alright, but on such acute face, Chouchou couldn’t find it in herself to be scared off by it.

Her laugh was verypoorly hidden. “Do you want me to call… someone? Who do you even call for thisshit? An ambulance?”

“Oh-eight-hundred-hey-babe-I’d-love-to-get-stuck-in-your-vent.”

It took almost four minutes for her cackling to die down enoughto accept.

—

#ictoan writes #ictoan answers #yodochou #yodo #chouchou akimichi #naruto #boruto #thanks for the req!#i'll cross post to ao3 and everything later #dead tired rn now #anonymous

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dcseriesfanfics · 7 years

Text

Without you, I wouldn’t be alive (Femslash Week Day 1)

Hello to everyone who is reading me! Welcome to my first fanfic for this wonderful challenge who show us that girls doesn’t need boys all the time, girls with girl are totally cool:) The AU of today is same show, Felicity and Sara is going to be the ship that I’m going to write about<3 (everything that’s gonna happen here is before Sara go to the Waverider and become a Legend, before Nyssa comes after Sara and before Felicity and Oliver start with their relationship)

Sara’s P.O.V

Another day of saving the city with Oliver and Diggle, oh and of course, Felicity, because she behind the computer can save more people than anyone.

Sometimes I feel that people doesn’t appreciate Felicity so much, even Oliver sometimes doesn’t appreciate how powerful is she. I appreciate her, and maybe like something more….

“Okay, I’m hungry, who wants a Big Belly Burger?” Diggle asked.

“I’m in” Oliver answered.

“I’m actually very tired, I am going home” Felicity said.

“I’ll walk you home” I told her.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m not hungry so I can go with you”

“Okay then, see ya later girls” Diggle said to us and with Oliver they went out.

“I have a car, so the phrase I’ll walk you home doesn’t fit” Felicity said when we went out too, making me laugh.

“Well, let me do it again. Felicity, I’ll be your company to go home”

“Nah, I’ll walk you home sounds better” I laughed again and we got into the car.

“So, is something going on between Oliver and you?” she asked me.

“We are just like, you know, friends”

“Friends with rights?” Felicity said with a naughty grin.

“How dare you?” I said laughing.

“What? Do you think that because I am a nerd I don’t know about that stuff?”

“You are not a nerd, well, maybe a little bit, but you are a hero too”

“Glad to hear that”

“And if you think that you are a nerd let me tell you that you are a pretty nerd” Felicity didn’t answer, she just smiled and blushed a little bit. “You look cute when you are blushing”

“Uh…. a girl has never made me blush”

“Glad to be the first” we finally arrived to Felicity’s place, we got out of the car.

“Well, here it is, my home” she said with a nervous smile.

“Why are you nervous, Felicity?”

“I don’t know, I know a lot of things but I really don’t know what’s going on right now” I get closer and I caress her face.

“I don’t know it either”

“You know how beautiful you are, Sara? I mean, of course you have to know it, but you are really beautiful and now watching you this closer makes me feel…..” and I kissed her, she was talking very fast and I just want her to kiss me, I couldn’t wait anymore.

“Wow” that was the first thing Felicity said when we stopped kissing. “I kissed a few guys before, but you kiss so much better than a boy” I smiled.

“I can say the same”

“Why did you kiss me? I thought you feel something for Oliver” I sighed.

“Oliver is just a friend and he is always going to be only my friend, no matter what. You are my hero Felicity, I want you to know that you are brave and strong even if you are only behind a computer, you are wonderful. Without you, I wouldn’t be alive, Oliver and Diggle wouldn’t be alive too without you”

“I would do whatever for you, and you are my hero too. But you know something? Sara Lance doesn’t needs a hero”

“That’s right, she only needs someone who loves her”

“Well, you have someone who loves you just in front” I smiled, grabbed her face and kiss her lips again, with more and more passion.

“I think we can continue with this in your place” I whisper over her lips, feeling her smiling.

“Let’s go then”

Felicity’s P.O.V

When I woke up, I was in my bed with a naked and beautiful woman by my side, sleeping like an angel. A few minutes later, she woke up too.

“Good morning” Sara said looking me with a smile, a smile that melts me.

“I feel like I’m in heaven” she smiled again.

“You are so so cute, and that’s why I love you”

“You love me?”

“Of course I do, all those things that I said to you last night, means that I love you so much” I smiled and I kissed her forehead.

“I love you too” we stayed a few minutes more in bed, hugging and kissing.

“Your skin is so beautiful, wow, everything about you is beautiful” Sara said kissing my neck, then the phone starts ringing, but she didn’t stop.

“It has to be Oliver, maybe he needs us” I said.

“But I need you, I need to kiss you more”

“Me too, but remember, we are heroes and the city needs us”

“Good point. Okay then, let’s go”

We get dressed and we finally arrived with Oliver and Diggle.

“Why are you girls late?” Oliver asked, angry. Sara and I looked at each other, and we laughed.

“Long story”

“Long but lovely story”

#sara lance #Felicity Smoak #sara x felicity #dctvfemslashweek17 #dctvfemslashweek

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haltandcatchfiretothemax · 5 years

Text

FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2019 #18: In which Cameron and Donna enjoy a Sunday evening off

PREVIOUSLY: #8, #15

[CN: alcohol mention, food/cooking/eating]

After she finished her breakfast, Cameron spent that entire morning and much of that afternoon trying to decide when she should drive up to Donna’s house; she’d gotten in the habit of showing up fairly early in the afternoon, catching up with Haley, working with Donna before and after dinner, and hanging out with Donna long after they’d quit for the night, sometimes until after 10pm. Was that too much? It had never felt like too much, they’d always seemed happy to see her. She’d wondered all day, should she back off?

She’d practically promised Bos that she wouldn’t back off, though. Don’t make a big deal outta something silly! She decided that she should go, finally, went outside to pick some wildflowers, and then spent over an hour trying to decide between three different button down shirts. She eventually picked the one that was nice, but not as formal looking as her nicest button-down shirt. As soon as she was finished getting dressed she got in her truck, and an hour and a half later, after a stop, she was standing on Donna’s doorstep.

Donna answered the door, and without a hello or any other greeting, she smiled at Cameron, who blushed. “Uh, here,” Cameron offered her the flowers, and a bottle of red wine that was atypically expensive, for her. Donna accepted them with her characteristic grace, and a, “Oh, you didn’t have to do this…come in though….”

Cameron followed Donna inside, up to the kitchen, and mumbled, “Well, I’m always showing up here empty-handed, so.” When Donna gave her a curious look, Cameron looked away, and tried to remember that she was supposed to be ‘playing it cool,’ or at least, ‘not weird!’ “Uh, so, how are you?” she asked. “Do anything fun last night?”

Donna put the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, and took the flowers over to the sink. Grabbing a vase, she said, “I did! I met Risa for an early drink, and then I had an impromptu phone date with Dr. Katie Herman.“

“Oh wow,” Cameron said, leaning against the island. Finally forgetting her nerves, she asked, “How is Katie doing?” And then, “Should I call her?”

“I think she might like that,” Donna said, as she turned on the faucet. She let the vase fill, and said, “I don’t think she’s doing terribly. She’s….well…..”

And together, Cameron and Donna said, “…hanging in the there!”

Cameron sighed, and said, “Okay, I’ll call her. And maybe I’ll call Risa too, I haven’t seen her since the holidays.”

“You should,” Donna said, “she’s doing fine, but we’re all nerds who could stand to get out more, I think.” Now fluffing up the flowers in the vase, Donna said, “What about Bos? How was dinner with him last night?”

“It was dinner with Bos,” Cameron grinned. “You know how he is. Lots of food, lots of tall tales, lots of his Texas Tough accent. It was great. We went to a new hibachi place, and overate. Too much salmon.”

“Sounds good,” Donna grinned. Then she said, “Hey, are you hungry now, though? I was about to start dinner. Haven’t cooked in a while, I figured I’d make something for all of us.” She put an apron on, and said, “You know, I was thinking, maybe we could have another night off work tonight? Just hang out?”

Cameron sat down at the island, and said, “And talk, maybe? I mean, we could do that…we do work a lot.”

“Perfect,” Donna grinned. “I’m making chicken pot pie.”

“Oh,” Cameron said, sounding very young, “that’s my favorite.”

With her back to Cameron, Donna preheated the oven, and said, “Is it?” With just enough sarcasm to let Cameron know that she was teasing her, she said, “I hadn’t even thought of that.” Smiling tentatively, Cameron felt a little spark of warmth in her chest, that caught and glowed and quietly and steadily spread through her.

Cameron watched Donna get out pots and pans and stock and measuring cups and spoons, and a tote bag full of vegetables from the cabinets and refrigerator and then asked, “Hey, do you want me to help?”

“Well,” Donna said, “if you insist….” She put the cutting board and peeler she’d just gotten out in front of Cameron, and said, “You’re welcome to carrot and potato duty, if you’re up to it.”

Unhurried, they spent the next hour rinsing, poaching, peeling, chopping, stirring and sautéing. It went quickly, the two of them chatting, less apprehensively than they had all week, their conversation punctuated here and there with comfortable silences. Happily occupied with a task, Cameron started to relax, and talked about her trailer, her neighbors, her plants, her stray ideas for possible applications and coding experiments. Donna listened, and talked about life at the Symphonic offices, Joanie’s most recent phone call, Haley’s latest community college course, and a travel show she’d watched one night when she couldn’t sleep, and how it had made her want to visit Mt. Rainier one day.

Donna moved around the kitchen, from one task to the next, and Cameron kept stopping what she was doing to look up at her. She was more dressed up than usual, Donna usually spent Sundays in leggings or pajama pants, hair in a ponytail, face bare. That morning she and Haley had gone to a large book store for a walk and window shopping, and then gone food shopping, for which Donna had worn her favorite pair of (surprisingly flattering) mom jeans, a powder blue sweater, and little gold hoop earrings that kept catching the light. She was wearing a sort of muted light brick red lipstick, mascara, and a little light pink blush, and her eyebrows were penciled in. Cameron had long been in the habit of rolling her eyes whenever anyone called a woman ‘radiant,’ but she didn’t think she’d react that way if someone described Donna as such. Donna might have been the definition of radiance, and Cameron was glad to be sitting in her kitchen.

They were on their second slices, Haley having taken hers up to her room so she could finish eating while chatting about a science project with a classmate, when Donna finally popped the question: “So. The realtor. What made you think of her?”

Cameron swallowed a bite that was mostly carrot and then evasively replied, “What do you mean, what made me think of her?” She shoveled another forkful of food into her mouth, this time getting more chicken, piecrust, and potato.

“I don’t know,” Donna shrugged. It was a long time ago, and I just figured something must have happened to make you think of that, and I was curious. That’s all.”

Cameron chewed slowly, thoughtfully. It would have been easy to say, ‘oh, nothing,’ or ‘I don’t remember’ or even ‘I don’t know,’ it should have been easy, but she didn’t feel as though she could. Donna waited patiently, looking at her warmly, and finally, Cameron swallowed, and looking down at her plate, she asked, “What if I don’t really want to say because I’m not ready?”

Mild surprise, and maybe the barest hint of relief, seemed to flicker across Donna’s face. Quietly, Donna said, “That’s okay.”

Donna didn’t seem worried or upset, but Cameron still asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Donna nodded. “We can always talk about it some other time, when you are ready. I’m not in any rush.”

Cameron put down her fork, and sounding very young again, asked, “What if I’m never ready to talk about it?”

Warmly, Donna said, “That’s alright, too.” She sat back in her chair, and still looking at Cameron, she said, “I know I already said this, but, all that really matters to me is that we’re friends. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t wanna talk about, or do anything you don’t want to do.”

Cameron felt both reassured and, suddenly, utterly vexed. She was momentarily tempted to shout at Donna, “What are we talking about?! Are we sure we’re talking about the same thing? Is that why we keep dancing around it?” She really wasn’t ready for them to be so direct about it, so instead, Cameron blurted out, “So like, what’s your deal right now? Are you seeing anyone, or like…?”

It was so awkward, so abrupt, that Donna laughed directly at Cameron, and then laughed even harder when Cameron said, “What? Why are you laughing at me? Why is that funny?”

After she finally managed to calm down, Donna said, “I don’t really think I have a deal? I don’t know, I’m not really thinking about dating, or anything like that. I’m not really looking. You?”

“I’m not really looking, either,” Cameron said. “I’m sorry if that was a weird thing to ask.”

Struggling to suppress another laugh, Donna said, “It was a weird way to ask, maybe. That’s okay though. I like that you’re weird, I always have.”

Cameron realized that for as anxious and embarrassed as she felt at that moment, she also felt very warm and content. There was no one she would rather be having this cozy if bizarrely ambiguous evening with, and there was no other place she’d rather be. Quietly, she said, “I’m glad we decided to just hang out tonight.”

Donna smiled, and her entire face seemed to light up with joy. “Yeah, so am I,” she said.

#i can admit when something gets away from me #and this one got away from me slightly #but that's ok bc it's the kind of slightly angsty domestic fluff that we deserve!#femslash february #femslash february 2019 #cameron howe #donna clark #donna emerson #can't remember when/where i decided that chicken pot pie is cameron's favorite meal but it's just one of those things that feels *right*

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