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scoutsbabygirl · 9 months

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I would like to see headcanons from you about how your favorite mercenaries realize that they fall in love with the reader :333

🎷🐛

my first request! hi my little meow meow! i wrote for all the mercs bc why not?! fluff below the cut! also written in headcannon form! idk how to write for soldier (i just don't see the appeal)

scout:

-why did ms. pauling have to be lesbian???

-when you came along he was immediately drawn to you, maybe it was because you were new and young

-he's way too cocky around you and acts like he doesn't care about you

-after a stern talking to by spy, jeremy decides to ask you out

-other than sports, jeremy loves to paint and draw and is surprisingly good at it. he asks you to make some art with him and of course he draws you

-this melts your heart and you've fallen for him. he's just waiting for the right time to confess and ask you to be his

soldier:

-man has zhanna

pyro:

-hearing you say "you're all good! no worries!" after he lights the hem of you shirt, almost burning you alive. he feels a spark...literally

-pyro slinks around you where ever you may be. in the kitchen baking? pyros throwing flour all over the kitchen. working out? pyros cheering you on. got some spare time? pyros got some crayons, colored pencils and a bunch of coloring books

-spending time with a masked man that the team fears has him drawn to you. the mercs warned you about him, you never felt intimated by pyro yet understood yet you could understand why he was treated differently

-if you're ever sad he will give you the best comfort. he's never shown himself to the mercs but once he sees you cry the mask is coming off and expect kisses to be planted over you

-its a very intimate moment and he just admits it then. he's never had anyone love him back, he's always been depicted as a monster.

heavy:

- won't approach you first. he waits for you to make a move. he knows his size is intimidating in itself and doesn't want to scare you away.

-he's a gentle giant. he's very careful with his words and movements. he's so paranoid that you'll view him as something he's not on the inside.

- one night you cooked with him and he told you all about his life back home, showed you photos of his sisters and taught you basic russian (assuming you don't know any already)

-if you speak russian he'll be over the moon or if you use the simple russian he's taught you he loves you just a little bit more. he adores your accent when you stumble over certain pronunciation. he knows you're the one for him

-when he decides to confess he handwrites you a long poem with an russian to english translation on two separate pages. after he signs his name he writes that he won't bring this up unless you do

-please don't break his heart. he's so sensitive

demo:

- when he confesses he's drunk as fuck. he doesn't even remember when you bring it up the next day.

-is so embarrassed. he's hungover and groggy. he plays it off by acting defensive. "i was just drunk! i meant nothing by it!"

-in the inside he's freaking out. he wanted to plan it out. it's only been 7 or 8 months since you've been at teufort but he fell so quick for you.

-3am outside pointing at the constellations, telling you about old celtic, scottish myths and folklore, shit talking the other mercs, and an accidental kiss on the lips he caught feeling for you right then and there.

- he's willing to give up scrumpy just to have you reciprocate the same feelings for him. 🤞

engineer:

-lord, he used so many pet names with you; "check this out, sweet pea", "you look beautiful, darling", "i made pancakes, you want any hon?"

-he knows his voice with a combination of his pet names do something to you. he loves when you call him those names back!

-compliment his cooking! bbq is his specialty! he'll gladly eat up anything you make. hungry boi :3

-he loves when you spend time with him in his workshop, working on his little metal trinkets warms his soul. he tries to teach you about the intricate parts of engineering. it's okay if you don't understand, he's more than willing to break it down for you and teach you a bite-sized version quantum mechanics

-friday night. a few beers in. a lot of work finished. "(y/n), i know i'm a bit older and dusty at the whole romance thing but" he pauses "you ain't seeing anyone right now, are you?"

medic:

-he either falls in love with you the second he lays his eyes on you or it takes many, many months for him to catch feelings for you. regardless, of how long the process takes his love for you becomes an obsession.

-you begin lingering around his office, inquiring about his tools and weapons. he finds it very interesting that you're not startled by him and his... unethical ways of "doctor assisted suicide"

-internal battles with his conscience. does he want to rip your organs out and shove them in the wrong places? he wants to slice your arteries one by one. yes, he wants to cut your jugular and see how much you bleed before dying. alas, he won't. you're too beautiful to be cut up into pieces. he doesn't want you to die by his hands, he doesn't know what he would do with himself.

-"guten morgen, wie gehts?!" has him weak. just a simple phrase you've rehearsed a few times. you though he would appreciate you taking time out of your day to learn his native tongue. he thinks this is your way of flirting with it (and perhaps it is).

-occasionally he'll call you into his office, not for a checkup by any means but rather just to chat (on company time). he removes the gloves and runs his hands over the scars on your face and neck. "schätzelein, i have been feeling some way for a while."

sniper:

-he is such a cunt. he's so rude and bitchy to you. his attitude causes you to avoid contact with mick at all costs and he avoids you like the plague. he spends a lot of time in his van anyways so staying away from you isn't too hard.

-seeing you hurt breaks his heart. he decides to visit you in medbay after your broke your arm. the baboo uterus experiment procedure wasn't finished by the time you got hurt. you notice how out of character it is but appreciate it regardless. he brings you a little necklace made with animal teeth (him making jewerly with animal bones is the most canon-noncanon headcanon.)

-after you get a cast you ask him to sign it. next to his name he writes a little heart. then scribbles it out. and draws a skull underneath it.

-butterflies in his stomach when he lays eyes on you. he hates that he's gotten feelings for you. you're his teammate, not his partner. not yet atleast. no? why is he thinking like this.

-it's obvious that mick is touch starved of attention, he want to be validated and appreciated. he's also getting shit from his teammates so when you begin to stand up for him and complimenting him he looses his mind.

"scout, you're being mean. no wonder you have no dad, i would leave too. " "he's not ugly at all. you're old and its evident enough in those wrinkles of yours."

-oh god. who knew a petite little thing like you could spit venom. he wants to tell you how he feels so badly but he doesn't want to loose you as a friend.

spy:

-he'll flirt with you before even developing feelings for you. always trying to court you, inviting you over at late hours. he just wants to get laid tbh.

-you're playing hard to get. it excites him a bit but he's much older now so if anything he's annoyed that you won't sleep with him. he tries being more romantic and pushes idea the idea of getting with you sexually and takes a different approach.

-smoking on his red velvet couch until the sun begins to rise, sharing cigs together. he has a small stash of weed (he stole it from scout) but coughs when he smokes it, earning a plethora of giggles from you. now he's smiling and laughing with you despite his lungs being filled with smoke.

-stacks of guy de maupassant on his table near the red couch, he reads the love poems to you and translates it to you. please snuggle up into his chest and try to read the french words yourself. your pronunciation is horrible and your accent is awful. you sound so cute yet so pathetic at the same time.

-he tries to keep his feelings hidden for as long as he can. of course, it slips out. he's stopped wearing the balaclava when around you (and only you, even his own son doesn't know what he truly looks like) so the bright red blush is evident on his face. he tries taking back what he said but there's no use as your already face first into his chest.

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my-castles-crumbling · 1 month

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Hey Cas! So I'm a queer teenage girl, but I'm homeschooled, so I have no clue if my friends would be accepting or not. There has never been an opportunity to bring up LGBTQIA+ rights, to see how they react , and I know for sure that at least one of my friends has no clue what gay people even are, because I mentioned that I could ship Sirius and Remus, and she said "Wait, but they're both dudes? And dudes cut marry each other?" But not even in a homophobic way, she was legit confused. Ive only told two people. The first is my BFF, who've I've known since I was 5 days old. She was the first person I told. I've also told my mom, and she's been super supportive, but I don't know how or when to tell my dad. He has a gay brother, but the relationship there is pretty much none (My uncle just moved away and never visits) , so I don't know how hell react. I was thinking of writing a letter, but I don't think that would work.

I'm know I'm attracted to multiple genders, because even before I knew what sexualities were, I wrote a story about two lesbian spies. I also get that happy feeling when I see queer people out in public. I have fantasized about both men and women before, so I do know I'm attracted to both men and women (And possibly non-binary people), but I don't know if that makes me Bi, or Omni, or Pan?

Oh, and I LOVE your blog. I get so exited when I see you post something, because Microfics are the perfect length for my ADHD brain to actually focus on. I hope you have a great gay!

P.S. Drink some water :)

Hi! <3

I'm so glad your mom is supportive!

For your friends, I'd try to warm them up to the idea a bit first, lol, especially since they genuinely don't know a lot. Bring up some queer ships, talk about LGBTQIA+ people in the media, that type of thing. Then ease into it.

As far as your dad, I think a letter is a great idea! It can be scary to tell someone big news like that, so getting all your thoughts down in a letter is super smart. It also gives him time to think about his reactions.

As far as your sexuality, have you researched each of those identities? They're very similar (though different in some ways as well), so it might help to look them up and really think about which one makes the most sense to you. Also remember that you're young, and you don't necessarily need to label yourself! Knowing who you're attracted to is a great start! As you get older and start dating more and more, you'll start to realize your preferences and it'll help you figure that out as well.

Let me know if you ever need to talk!

(Also I am naming all the anons who write to me in case they want to write in the future, and I am using a random positive affirmation generator to do so. So I dub thee: sincere anon. Enjoy your free tag!)

(also you made me drink water. so rude 😋)

#ask #asks #ask cas #sincere anon

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bobabeomii · 1 year

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Hello, it's fairy dust!

Ooh I see, I hope your day has gotten a bit better. My day is just starting or ending or in the middle when you have read this ask. Today, it was the usual, but I am going to/did present a project for one of my classes. I sort of like the results of this project. 😊

I screwed up one of my projects yesterday. I was really frustrated about it but shrugged it off since there isn't anything I can do except screw it up even more. Haha, honestly, I screwed up everything like friendships. Which is really frustrating for me. But what can I do about it?

Anywho, my crush? Well, I think it was just a kind of small crush, to be honest. I heard she is lesbian from one of my real-life acquaintances. I smiled when I heard it, but it made me kind of scared. Since it felt so wrong to feel this way. I am religious, and my religion doesn't really support the lgbtqia+ community. Which scares me even more. Plus my parents too...

But my crush is nice and she is in two of my classes. I sort of talked to her last semester in my math class. She asked about my desktop wallpaper. Well, her friend gave me a piece of paper which asked about my desktop. I happily wrote it own in the same paper, which is txt.

I am not sure if she is a txt fan, but I think she is kind of a K-pop fan or something like that. Haven't asked because I am shy. The same day, she asked about my desktop. She complimented me and told me that I was pretty. ( I am not that pretty) I was really happy and blushing. This semester, we talked more since we are in the same two classes. I found out a little more about her just by listening to others' conversations and even herself.

“You’re born in this world, and you’re a precious one, I hope you put priority on your happiness” - Kang Taehyun ( txt )

Well, I don't know what else to say about talking about. Honestly, there isn't anything interesting about me. So I guess I will end it here for now. Remember to take care of yourself! Eat three meals a day, stay hydrated, and so much more!

- ✨️

Ps. Sksksksksk, three people? Interesting... but I doubt I am one of the three people you are suspecting. Well, I am around 5'1 "ft ( 154 cm ). Yep, I am a shortie 😭 idk if anyone told you their height, but maybe this hint is somewhat useful...

hello fairy dust anon !

i'm sorry i can't answer your full message ( and that it probably has been ages and i kept you waiting so long ) but i reslly really appreciate it ! i felt so warm while reading it and i love learning about you 🥰

p.s. skdjdkdjd ik a lot of shorties so dw ;) and i'm not tall myself either help 😭😭

#🐻︰kyu's answers 𓄼 #✨︰fairy dust anon 𓄼

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dancingazaleas · 3 years

Text

erejean | pretty

RIVALS TO LOVERS SUPREMACY

i’m so sorry i just love erejean and i could go on about why i think they actually have a beautiful friendship in canon

edit: i wrote this while half asleep so i’m sorry

warnings/notes: cursing, college au!, eren’s personality doesn’t change too much, hopeless pining, this is short, this is messy, internalized homophobia, coming out, gay awakening

eren and jean have been rivals ever since they could remember. no one really knows how it started, but the only thing they did know it that one out of the two of them were acting a little weird.

unlike usual, he was oddly silent towards one another and often faced each other with flushing faces. he gave the other longing looks when he wasn’t looking.

eren genuinely didn’t know what was happening. for the past two to three years, jean’s always irritated the hell out of eren. eren’s even the one who came up with the ridiculous nickname of ‘horse face’.

but now, he thinks jean’s pretty... and handsome. eren doesn’t exactly know what happened, he just knows that ever since the end of senior year that his annoyance for jean has decreased almost into nothing.

okay, eren is kind of lying to himself.

eren still is annoyed by jean, but it isn’t like before. eren never used to be annoyed at how jean’s eyelashes were long and pretty. he never had been annoyed about how his hands were bigger in comparison to his own, he’d never want to hold them. he’d never been annoyed about how jean’s body wasn’t against his, encasing eren with his odd ember fire.

he hated how jean looks so pretty whenever he thinks to himself, he hates how jean looks so stupidly beautiful whenever he’s drawing. he hates how pretty jean looks whenever he laughs, and he hates that he wants that smile to stay there forever.

but what eren hates the most is that he isn’t even gay.

eren’s never really found men attractive growing up, but that didn’t exactly mean that he found girls attractive. eren had only ever dated one girl, who was now a lesbian with a girlfriend and also his close friend.

the only boy eren ever thought was cute was armin. but eren always brushed it off since the two of them were childhood friends. usually childhood friends find each other cute right? and cuddly? and... y’know what, nevermind.

eren sits in his room beside his bed, crying into the palms of his hands from confusion. he’s tried so hard to feel something for girls, any girl that would throw herself at him, but it didn’t work. eren can’t even get hard if he thinks about girls in a sexual manner, but finds himself doing so when thinking of men.

he’s so confused. he’s never been so confused in his entire life.

“eren, do you want anything from... are you okay,” eren looks up to see armin’s face bunched up with concern.

eren wipes away his tears even though it’s pointless because the tears keep flooding over. he can’t help but sob now, too embarrassed at how he’s feeling. armin’s on the floor beside eren within seconds, arms wrapping around eren’s broad shoulders and pulling him into his chest.

eren’s hands weave themselves into the loose fabric of armin’s forest green turtleneck, finally letting everything he’d been holding in out.

eren hates how he confused he is. armin’s shushing him while tracing circles into the fabric of his hoodie, and eren knows that armin is anxious. before eren can try and calm himself down, there’s a gasp from his doorway and the sound of footsteps coming closer. he assumes that mikasa is home, to which he’s correct.

“eren, what’s wrong,” she asks gently, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

he chokes out a sob, digging his head further into armin’s shirt.

“just wait until he’s calmed down to ask,” armin advises, continuing to trace patterns into his back.

it takes a few minutes for eren to be able to speak, and even then it’s difficult.

“eren, what’s wrong,” armin pulls his knees to his chest, ignoring the dampness on his shirt.

“i’m... i’m confused,” he sighs after a sniffle, hand wiping away a tear.

“about what,” mikasa questions with an eyebrow raised.

“fuck,” he hisses from frustration, “i don’t know what i like.”

“like? do you mean hobbies?”

“no.”

“things? stuff like books or cheese?”

“no.”

“food?”

“no!”

“people?”

eren stays silent, now pulling his own knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. mikasa and armin give eren a sympathetic look, they both had gone through this as well.

“you think you like men,” mikasa treads carefully, not wanting to upset eren even more than he already is.

“yea,” his voice shakes along with his hands.

“what boy?” armin tilts his head back to lean against eren’s mattress.

“jean,” eren sighs, already feeling himself start to tear back up.

mikasa hums in confirmation, “i see.”

eren’s crying again, absolutely ashamed of himself.

“he just... i hate him ‘cause he’s so pretty and caring. whenever i’m angry, he tries not to make it worse. he pays attention to the stupidest little details, like how i like the crunchier parts of the bread on chicken. he’s so warm, it’s like he’s constantly on fire and i just.. i wanna be surrounded by it. he’s actually really thoughtful whenever he’s not trying to be a douche, and i hate it,” eren cries while he puts his head on mikasa’s muscular shoulder.

“and there’s nothing wrong with being gay, i mean literally nothing. i just hate that i’m confused. what does this mean? i haven’t felt like this towards him before, so why now,” he sniffles, “fuckin’ stupid.”

“y’know... armin and i once felt like this before,” mikasa says, a small and comforting smile coming up onto her face.

“about marco and annie,” he asks, and shifts his gaze to armin.

“yes. whenever i first realized in sophomore year, i was so confused and upset. annie was so pretty, and boys weren’t. at the time, it all felt so wrong, like it wasn’t meant to be that way,” mikasa explains with hesitance, “i told armin i like girls, and he told me he liked boys and that he felt the same way during freshman year. we hated how confused we were, and we hated that we liked the same sex.”

“but all it takes is acceptance from yourself,” armin smiles, “it’s okay to be confused, eren. you’re still 19, you’ve got so much time to figure out who you even are. also, even if you say there’s nothing wrong with being gay, there’s a chance you’ll have internalized homophobia towards yourself. it’s okay to be a gay man named eren yeager. and it’s okay to be confused. you don’t need to rush it, set your own pace.”

“armin’s right. eren, we love you no matter what. you mean the world to the both of us, even if you’re confused with your identity. it’s okay to explore those feelings, and it’s okay to be wrong about them. either way, we love you so much, eren,” mikasa wipes a tear from his eye with her thumb.

eren wants to cry again just from how loving the two of his friends are.

“thanks you guys, i love you too,” he chuckles as they’re all pulled into a group hug.

————

two months later, eren’s telling all of his friends. they accept him with open arms, which isn’t too surprising, but it makes him happy nonetheless.

another month, he’s telling his superiors at his work. they’re the closest eren has to parents since his mom and dad died, and they accepted him happily. he wasn’t too surprised, but even so it made him cry. knowing that he was loved no matter what made him emotional.

another month later, he’s telling one of the most important people in his life. his brother, who raised him and mikasa since his parents died. he’s once again accepted with open arms, and is even reminded that zeke has brought home boys whenever they both were younger. he’s so lucky.

but even after all this, he’s still crushing on jean. only now, he’s more accepting of how he wants jean to kiss him.

eren also thinks jean is an idiot.

eren has made multiple moves on the muffin top, but he hasn’t even realized. eren’s linked pinkies with jean while his face reddens, he’s fed jean, he’s even resorted to telling him horrible pickup lines.

what makes it worse is that jean thinks this is a rivalry thing again, god knows how.

what’s even more annoying is the fact that jean so obviously likes eren back, but eren is also too stupid to notice. eren, somehow, doesn’t notice how his face shows up in jean’s sketchbook more than it should. he doesn’t notice the flirty innuendos that jean tells him.

and it’s so annoying.

everyone feels this is even more annoying then whenever the two were at each other’s throats 24/7.

jean yawns while he stretches his arms towards the sky, pencil falling from his fingers and onto the paper of his sketchbook. he’s been outside drawing for two hours now, practicing landscapes and drawing under a short amount of time.

eren’s sleeping beside him on the grass, head resting on jean’s book bag while his arms hold his hoodie to his chest. some of eren’s hair is falling out of the bun it’s in, swishing silently as the wind begins to blow softly against their bodies.

jean thinks eren looks so pretty. with a cautious hand, he tucks a strand behind eren’s pierced ear. eren’s skin his warm against jean’s hand, even though the wind has been blowing gently on eren’s snoozing face.

jean brushes eren’s baby hairs out of his face, softly smiling at eren’s serenity. and before he can stop himself, his cheek is in the palm of jean’s large hand.

jean’s thumb strokes his cheekbone while the rest of his fingers get tangled into eren’s hair.

“pretty,” jean mumbles while he smiles.

for some reason, jean doesn’t pull his hand away. even when eren eyes start to flutter open and look at him. even whenever eren’s cheeks darken.

“you’re pretty, y’know,” jean says, ignoring how the setting sun was starting to get in his eyes.

“you’re not too bad yourself, horsey,” eren snickers while jean rolls his eyes and scoffs.

they’re left in a comfortable silence as jean finally pulls away and turns back to the sketchbook in his lap.

it showed no progress of landscapes and random people, only a drawing of eren sleeping.

————

eren and jean find themselves looking at the stars while standing in the lake a month later. it’s hot during june, even during the late nights where the sun has been put to rest.

which is why they came up with the bright idea to go swimming in a lake at 12 in the morning. the idea wasn’t even planned, eren decided on a whim and just decided to drag jean along.

jean points up towards the stars, “the big dipper.”

eren follows his finger, a huge smile spreading across his face at jean’s correct assumption.

“there’s the constellation of gemini,” eren says while pointing.

“makes sense since it’s june.”

eren nods, looking towards jean.

he looks so pretty in the moonlight.

“hey jean.”

“yeah, what do you wan—!”

eren interrupts jean by splashing him with water, hearty laughs echoing through the terrain as goes on.

“not cool,” jean tries to say angrily, but ends up laughing.

he splashes eren back and then retreats deeper into the lake. eren follows behind, tackling jean under the water. they both laugh once they come to the surface, pointing out how the water now reached their thighs.

“that’s why we’re here, jean. to get wet,” he raises an eyebrow while putting his hands on jean’s shoulders.

“yeah, heads up!” jean shouts while he dunks eren under the water while on top of him.

they’re once again laughing when they resurface, both trying to catch the breath that had been taken out of them.

“you’re hair looks good wet,” eren says while gesturing to jean.

“i always look good,” jean jokes, eren snorting obnoxiously afterwards.

“whatever helps you sleep at night, man,” eren shrugs.

the two goof around for a few minutes longer, laughs echoing against the trees and back into their ears.

neither of them want this to end.

eren has an arm wrapped around jean as he holds himself up, laughing stupidly at god knows what. jean laughs as well, heart fluttering sweetly at the sight of eren’s pretty smile.

and jean doesn’t know how to think.

so, he pulls eren straight up, grabs ahold of his plump and warm cheeks and gives him a sweet kiss.

the sweetest kiss eren’s ever had.

eren reciprocates shyly, pushing his lips back against jean’s. he grabs at jean’s bicep, wanting to ground himself just to make sure that he isn’t dreaming.

jean pulls away whenever they need air, resting his forehead against eren’s.

“i love you,” he whispers to him breathily, moving his hands to hold onto eren’s.

“i love you too,” eren chuckles and stares into jean’s eyes, “even if you’re an idiot that looks like a horse.”

jean rolls his eyes, and instead of replying to eren, he gives eren another kiss. he’ll tell eren that he’s pretty after.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk eren #eren aot #attack on titan eren #eren yaegar #eren x jean #erejean #jean kirstein #jean kirschstein #jean aot #snk jean #aot jean

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hadtochangemyurlquick · 3 years

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here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

#did something different with time than i usually do #and with structure #lmk what you think #shoni #the wilds fanfic #the wilds #goodfoe fanfic #goodfoe #shelby goodkind #toni shalifoe #gus writes #ren don’t

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neptunetheplanet7 · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 & 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.1k

warnings: swearing, slight angst in the beginning but not really, fluff

i owe you guys an apology. i’m not very active on tumblr as of posting. i’m sorry about that. school has been hard on me and i’ve been very stressed. i’ll try to do better in the future :)

listen to the music masterlist

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Armin was discharged from the hospital only a day after the accident. The doctor said there was nothing extraordinary to worry about. But of course, even with this information, Eren still made a fuss. That much was clear when he walked through the door with Armin's arm slung over his shoulder.

"I didn't break my leg, Eren. I don't need to use you as a crutch," Armin grumbled as the two walked into the kitchen from the garage. He reached back to shut the door with his free hand.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse me for supporting you in these trying times."

"I don't need your support," they scoffed. He unwrapped his arm and made his way across the room.

Eren gave him the finger, rather aggressively. The gesture wasn't reciprocated since the blond already disappeared into the hallway.

Sucking on a freeze pop, you leaned back against the cool countertop. "Welcome home, lovely. Have fun?"

Eren sighed loudly as he walked toward the freezer and got a popsicle for himself. He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the top of the wrapper off into the trash.

He said sarcastically, "Oh, absolutely I did." He paused and shook his head disapprovingly. "He's a lot bitchier when it's us two. How's it been here?"

You shrugged. "So, so. Pretty quiet."

He nodded and pushed up the pineapple-flavored ice. "Thought so. Jean's gone today, obviously. Is Mikasa here?"

You huffed softly at the mention of her. "I haven't seen her since breakfast. She's been upstairs all day."

He frowned. "Oh, I see. Armin told me about the kiss, by the way. At first, I was gonna make fun of you for passing out but now that just seems cruel."

"You think?" You laughed lightly and rested both arms on the counter.

The sound that followed from him was more of an exhale than a laugh. "Listen, Y/n, even if she's avoiding you right now, I know she'll come around. Just wait and see."

"You're right," you mumbled, sticking the freeze pop in your mouth again. Armin basically said the same thing. Eren sent you a quick smile and patted your shoulder before leaving through the hallway.

You swallowed the remaining ice and threw away the wrapper. Noticing the bin was full, you took the trash to the bigger bin outside. Maybe doing some chores would distract you from Mikasa for a while.

Plus, today was the only day that allowed you to do so. Practices for the band's upcoming performance were every day until the date of it. You'd be rehearsing 24/7 since it was scheduled on such short notice.

It was going to be at a middle school some of your friends went to. The DJ they booked before flaked and your manager was kind enough to offer your talents.

Jean was meeting with Hannes and the school administrators to work out some extra kinks before the practices began.

The only day there wasn't a rehearsal was on Eren's birthday. You all decided it'd be best to take the day off to celebrate and set up for the party that would be happening later in the night.

The day passed easily as you got caught up on chores that weren't done over the past few days. The house was messier than you liked it although it hadn't been long at all since the previous clean-through. However, it had been a hectic week.

Speaking of hectic, when Zeke was there, he sure made himself at home. That much was clear when you made it to the living room portion of the basement.

Eren probably couldn't find time to clean up yet. Either that or he was just lazy because at that moment he was more focused on a pinball machine than the state of his living space.

His brother's suitcases were lying open by the couch. To be honest, you didn't love the idea of a criminal's possessions lying around your home. So, you decided that throwing them in a storage closet was the best option.

When you finished tidying up, you started a game on the pinball machine next to Eren's.

His birthday was in three days. The house looked a lot better than it did when you started, which was perfect for throwing a party. You could only hope it would stay that way.

After a few hours of playing games with him, Jean came down the stairs to let you know he was back from the school. He left when he saw neither of you were interested in what he had to say.

Once it got dark outside, you left Eren to his own devices and went to your own room to chill out some more.

Unfortunately, when you flopped down on your bed, Mikasa started to consume your thoughts again. In an effort to fight them, you turned on a show to distract yourself.

For the slow hours you spent staring at the screen, you couldn't focus, not once. No matter how hard you trained your eyes on the screen, you still thought about her.

Sighing, you got out of bed and walked to your bedroom door. You were careful of the creaking hinges, it was around midnight. Everyone would either be asleep or close to sleeping.

Except for Armin. You had no idea what he did at night but you knew better than to ask. However, he was probably pretty tired from the time spent at the hospital. So, there was a solid chance he actually was asleep.

You crept outside, checking that the front door didn't make too much noise. Your car was parked in the driveway since there was never room in the garage. The gravel underneath your feet made noise as you walked toward it. You pushed yourself onto the hood and leaned back against the windshield.

Drawing in a long breath, you stared up at the sky. You needed to calm down and clear your mind. This would help, as it usually did.

Even if it was a little chilly, it was warm for a night in March, especially this late.

The stress that bubbled inside you simmered down the longer you watched the thin clouds dim the stars.

Any negative thoughts you had about the situation with Mikasa or the previous days seemed to disappear the longer your focus was on the sky.

Gravel crunched and you snapped your gaze toward the noise. Sitting up, you were surprised by what you saw.

Mikasa froze when she realized she'd been caught. She held a white blanket in her arms and still had one foot on the porch steps.

"Hi," she greeted quietly.

"Hey." Your breaths were a tad ragged from the initial scare.

She came closer to the car. "What are you doing out here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing." You took the blanket from her arms and she pushed herself up to sit beside you.

"The door to your room was open when I came downstairs for a drink. I thought you'd be out here."

"Oh." She knew you better than you thought.

She spread the blanket over both of your laps and leaned down on the hood of the car.

She looked at the sky but your eyes were still on her. "Why did you come out here?"

After a moment of silence, her gaze finally shifted to you. "I wanted to apologize. Ignoring you was immature. Plus, I remember how you used to come out here when you were upset. Above all else, I wanted to make sure you were alright." A blush coated her cheeks when she finished talking.

You took note of that and couldn't help but blush yourself. "I'm okay. I understand why you'd ignore me, though. If you didn't want it, that was probably your only option since we have to see each other so much."

Her brows furrowed and she sat up again. "What? Y/n, did you think I didn't want to kiss you?"

You blinked stupidly. "Well, yeah."

She laughed. "You can be so ridiculous sometimes. I've always wanted to kiss you like that. I'm just not great at expressing it."

Even more heat rushed to your face. You gawked at her and she looked down at her feet. Many things were running wild in your head. For some reason, though, there was one thing that was so prominent in your mind once you remembered it.

Out of all the questions you could have asked, this one came out rather bluntly. "What did you mean in your letter? What should I know?"

Her eyes widened, she didn't expect you to ask about that yet, and quite frankly, neither did you. Nonetheless, she answered anyway. "If only you knew. That's what I wrote. That's easy to answer now. If only you knew how long I've loved you."

She turned her face and made direct eye contact with you. She seemed to know the next question on your mind. "You never knew it but I've been in love with you since high school."

That can't be right. This is a dream. You're dreaming, Y/n. What the actual fuck?

"Are you sure? Then why did you ask Jean out when we were seniors? Why did you break it off with me mere weeks before?" Your mind was racing and it translated into sentences quickly spilling from your lips.

She still looked straight at you. Her facade of confidence was making you nervous. "I'm sure. Back then, I was so afraid of what I felt for you. Pretending the feelings weren't real and projecting them onto Jean seemed like my easiest option. For years I convinced myself I loved him. But it was never him. It was always you. I felt so awful when I realized what I was doing."

And just like that, the facade fell. Her words were no longer held confidence. She was afraid of how you'd react. She had little idea that you were ready to be just as vulnerable as her.

"When did you realize?"

Looking up at the dark sky, she pushed a stray tuft of hair away from her face. She continued, sighing softly before she spoke, "When I saw him that night with Marco, I was relieved that I didn't have to be with him anymore. When I tried to figure out why that was, I could only think about you. Every feeling that scared me before came back. I got so scared that I left. But, even then, they never went away."

You were having some trouble believing that this was actually happening. Mikasa loved you back this entire time. If she hadn't kissed you before, you would've thought this was only possible in your dreams.

However, things were actually starting to make sense. That whole time it was your fault. Every night of those two years you spent wondering about what you could have done to make her stay. It turns out you did enough. You were the reason she left.

But maybe you were the reason she came back as well. You could recall something Jean had told you a day before she came home.

"Why did you come back? You needed to do something?"

She looked back at you again. "I've just done it," she said.

Before you could process her words, she was leaning closer to you. Her lips were so close to brushing yours but she paused before they could fully touch. "Can I?" she whispered.

"You don't even have to ask."

When she kissed you, you felt everything. Her feelings, your feelings. The world was minuscule compared to you two. Anything else meant nothing at that moment.

It was the first time in a long time that you felt fully complete. You were a puzzle and she was the missing piece. It was like before, only this time, you knew for sure what you wanted.

Pulling away, you managed an, "I love you too, Mikasa."

There were no other words that would feel so good to finally say out loud.

Everything was clear. You understood.

Now more than ever, you wanted to be with her.

posted: 9/26/21

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

#aot fanfiction #band au #mikasa ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa x you #modern au #snk fanfiction #attack on titan

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

Gone datin’

Pairing: Spike x fem!reader

Request(s):

Can I request a spike x female reader where they’re dating but can’t usually go on dates but then he finds the gem of amara and surprises her with a cute picnic date and he is really sweet with her?

spike and his gf on a date.

A/N: Hope you don’t mind but I’ve combined these together, you both wanted female reader and a date. Also, I wrote it where he’d had the gem before, but gets it back.

You were resting in the lower level of Spike’s most recent resting place. You lay on your side, resting against his naked chest. Drawing small patterns on his chest as you thought about how happy you were with this man. He let you trace along his body, enjoying it when you did it. You press a small kiss to some exposed skin, propping yourself up to look at him. His arm was behind his head, lying flat, he loved moments alone with you like this.

“Spike, why do you never take me on dates? We are dating after all…” You say softly as he stroked along your arm, leaving goose bumps in his wake.

“What do you want one of them for?” he asked, scanning your face, “And more to the point, why have you never taken me on one?” He mused, questioning you back with a raise of his eyebrow. This was fair enough, you had never suggested a real human date before, you were both usually content with being together like this. Or having a drink at a bar. You were comfortable together, you just wished sometimes that you could go on a normal date. Your words made him think – he wanted you to have a proper date. Something he hadn’t been able to give you, but now he desperately longed to.

In the week after this conversation, you felt a little excited. Spike wasn’t very good with sunlight. Or pointy wooden objects through the chest. Or pretending to care about trivial matters. So, when he started to talk about going out on a date more often since you mentioned it, you got excited. But then it stopped. He stopped talking about it, he shut down any mention of a date that wasn’t at his favourite demon bar and he suddenly had to take a trip to LA where you were definitely not invited. You tried not to worry, you tried to convince yourself he didn’t have a secret vampire lover that he was leaving you for. What he hadn’t informed you of, was that he had been trying to plan the perfect date. But one tiny detail was getting in his way every time: he couldn’t take you anywhere in the day and he decided that you should have everything perfect. Like in the books he would read.

It had been another week, he didn’t talk on the phone so you hadn’t heard from him while he was in LA. You were worried. When he finally returned, his face was oddly tanned and you frowned. Maybe he had discovered fake tan in LA. You thought he looked cute with a little colour in his face and you told him this. His eyes widened, he hadn’t noticed. He gruffly thanked you and left to speak to someone about something you didn’t quite catch.

It was a few more days of weird behaviour from Spike and you were starting to get ready to confront him. It was out of character. But then you got a call from Willow telling you to meet her in the park, it left your mind. You could vent to your friend, maybe ask for some advice. It did cross your mind that this was unusual, your friend was now spending a lot of her spare time with her new friend Tara and had forgotten you existed. You understood but you couldn’t help feeling a little friend envy. However, you were pleasantly surprised when she asked to meet you.

You got there and there was a picnic set up: a tartan blanket laid on the grassy bank, a large wicker basket in the centre. There was wine glasses out and even a little flower that had been plucked, roots and all from the ground only moments before. You frowned at Willow, wondering what was going on. It appeared to be a date, you joked to yourself that Willow might have become a lesbian overnight. However, the redhead was getting ready to leave as soon as she saw you.

“Uh, um, I’m gonna make with the leaving now – I was part of a cunning ruse. Have fun!” She shouted over her shoulder, no doubt about to find Tara. You sat, frowning around the sunny spot. Then you saw him. Your mouth agape, eyes on stalks as he sauntered over to you as if this was normal. He soaked up the sun, closing his eyes briefly at the warmth before his gaze landing back on you.

His still pale skin almost unnatural under the sunlight, black t-shirt clinging to his well-toned physique. He made his way across the grass, looking up slightly at the blue sky a smug little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. This turned into a full-on grin as he threw himself down opposite you on the blanket.

“All right, love? This enough of a date for you or did you want to be going on one of those long walks on the beach?” He smiled, opening the wicker basket. He was acting as if this was the most normal thing in the world. You were speechless. You looked up at the sun, then back at him what must have been about fifty times before your voice managed to actually work, “How…?”

“Love finds a way” he said cryptically, “I can’t wait to see if I freckle” he added with a wink as he chucked you some of the prepared food and took out a jar of blood for himself. He had taken care of finding your favourites. His smug smile lit up, almost brighter than the sun, as you just stared at him all not on fire and pleased with himself.

After the third time you asked, between bites of the best sandwich you had ever eaten, he sighed animatedly using his shoulders to exaggerate his unneeded expel of breath, “Went to see a man about a ring. Don’t get too excited, love, it was for me - got myself a new little trinket” he showed you the ring on his finger. You grabbed his hand to check it.

“The gem of amara!? I thought that was gone!” You squealed in excitement for him and then for yourself as this meant he could come out in the day too. This wasn’t a one-off. You were still holding his hands, squeezing so tight before letting go to get back to the picnic.

“Well, couldn’t let my favourite girl living her life without a proper date now could I? I’m evil, but not that bloody evil” He shrugged, downplaying what he had to do to get the ring back. There was a lot of fighting and he even had to do a little bit of begging to his least favourite grandsire (Which, turned out to be useless and he had to trade punches with him to get the ring back anyway). He hadn’t been so bothered about the loss of the gem until recently.

“You- you got it back for me? For us to have a date?” You gasped, in awe at the way he loved so deeply. So selflessly with you. He had done this for you first, himself second.

“’Course, love. I want you happy. Besides, you’re bloody gorgeous with decent lighting” he complimented you, with a wink. You couldn’t help smiling, he was a charmer and you could tell he was pleased with your excitement over the date. Seeing you happy makes him happy and he caught your infectious smile as you started to root in the wicker basket to find pretty much all of your favourite snacks piled in there, “Listen, pet, I love you and love’s a funny thing. It makes you want to do things just to make others happy. Makes you want to sacrifice everything just to see that smile. That flutter in your chest when you see me, when you feel the care I have for you” he said quickly, looking into the contents of the jar as he spoke before looking up to meet your eye, “I can’t stop thinking about you… thinking about ways to show my affection”

“I love you, spike, this is- this is the best date ever” You gushed, crawling across the blanket to envelop him in a hug. You pressed your lips against his, an excitable kiss to confirm your love.

“Well, I plan on next week’s being even better, so hold that thought pet” He smiled as you grinned so wide your cheeks started to ache, moving back to look at him. He had already started planning a date for next week, somewhere sunny and fun for you. Perhaps the beach, he remembered you said you liked that time you went for a daytrip with the Scoobies, wishing he could have been with you.

You offered to rub some sunscreen into his skin. Luckily you kept a high spf on you so he wouldn’t burn. He wasn’t used to it, so he had forgotten about potentially burning. He complained for a while, finding it lame, but softened at the care and stubbornness you displayed until he relented and allowed you to rub the sunscreen into his skin.

You both lay back, sunbathing on the tartan blanket. Spike squinted up into the perfect blue sky, amazed that it hadn’t changed since he remembered it. The sun continued beating down on you pleasantly, it was bliss. Warm rays of afternoon sun licking at your faces. You held hands, laying side-by-side as you relaxed lazily under the heat. This was the first of many enjoyable dates under the cheery supervision of the sun.

#spike x reader #spike imagine #spike x you #spike btvs #btvs x reader #btvs oneshot #btvs imagine #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #picnic in the sun #fluffy #Willow Rosenberg #female reader #scooby gang x reader #gem of amarra #spike x sunlight

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werelesbian · 3 years

Text

Lesbian has been a word that has been negatively used since I was a child. When I was a little kid I was told “You can’t be gay or marry outside of your own race” by my father. I must’ve bottled that up for years. I’ve always looked at girls since I was a kid. I remember one of my earliest memories being from when I was about 7 and thinking a lady with a green shirt was really pretty. I also always remember staring at boobs and butts, A LOT. I always had an interest in girls, I just didn’t realize it.

When sexuality became to become known, one of my friends came out as bisexual and I flipped out. Being gay was always seen as bad to my family and thus I had to follow it. When “I Kissed a Girl”, “She Keeps Me Warm” and “Same Love” were on the radio, I became very anxious and changed the pronouns to prove I wasn’t gay. I couldn’t be gay right? Even though I have looked at girls before and I remember staring at my friend’s brother’s ceiling with a picture of a woman in a bikini.and being mesmerized by it.

As I got older, the concept of being gay became normalized to me. I came out as pansexual because that’s what I thought I was at the time. I maybe had one “crush” on a boy, but more numerous ones on girls. My friend, a camp counselor, and my mom’s friend’s daughter.

High school finally rolled around and I went through my first stage of questioning. I cycled through labels until I came to bisexual. That’s what I believed to be best. Then the crushes on girls flooded in. The first crush I recognized I had on a girl was my friend’s ex girlfriend. I wanted her! But when my friend asked her out I was crushed. “Oh well I thought, I’ll have to live with it”. I tried to third wheel in their relationship, probably due to lingering feelings. Then I developed a crush on another girl, a good friend of mine. I asked her out to TOLO, but she said no and I cried. Straight girls cry when they get rejected by girls right? I almost asked a guy friend of mine as a rebound but then decided against it.

Later on since both of my friends were dating, I decided that I should to. I chose a guy who I thought was ‘cute’ and we went out a few times. He even asked me to homecoming the next year where he kissed me. I felt nothing by it and very awkward. Him and I went out again a few more times but I didn’t really feel much for him. I liked the kissing somewhat but that was about it. I think I was more excited by feeling rebellious. My friends pushed the label of ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ onto us, but it was awkward. But I still went along with it.

At the beginning of sophmore year, I had to attend eating disorder treatment and I was drawn to another girl there. She was so cool and I wanted to be close to her and spend time with her. Too bad nothing ever came of it. That same year however, I also developed a crush on another girl in my French class. When she walked in, it was like time slowed down, I was SO attracted to her. We even sat next to each other in class and boy, did she make me nervous. I felt things that were different than even being with that guy I was with. Even seeing her years later, my eyes still were drawn to her like a damn magnet. She was gorgeous.

In junior year, my friends began to have sex and lose their virginities. I felt left behind and wanted to fit in. There was always a craving for it, especially since I always felt ‘different’ and left out, even since I was a kid. I was bullied too and with a sweet blend of my low self esteem and depression, I followed trends. This was just another one of them. I made a ‘pact’ with myself that year to get a boyfriend for the sole purpose to lose my virginity and I did. I also developed a weird obsession with two guys that year. I dressed up and daydreamed scenarios in my head of them liking me. I wanted them to want me, but I’m not sure if I wanted them. But I also did end up achieving my goal that year. I got the boyfriend and lost my virginity. I did what I had to do. Even though it was awkward and I felt numb after it. It resulted in me having 2 months of extreme anxiety due to a fear of being pregnant.

In the relationship, I didn’t feel much, or not at all for the guy. I leaned on him for support due to my dysfunctional family. It was an escape. I eventually broke it off with him and got over the relationship within a week. This started a cycle of waiting for the next boyfriend to come around. The next one eventually did. He was nice and cared for me. He pursued me first and I went with it. I’m glad I didn’t have to have sex with him. It was the easiest relationship I was in because we were more like friends and less like lovers. Then we broke up and I got over him within a week. Rinse and repeat.

The last boyfriend I dated for nine months and I believed at one point I loved him. He cared for me and had a nice family I could escape to, when mine was falling apart at the seams. I craved the ‘nuclear family’ unit since I never had in the start. I felt accepted and safe there when I didn’t want to go home to mine. His companionship was nice and all, but I know deep down I didn’t care for him the way he cared for me. He loved me, but I didn’t love him. He wanted to escalate the relationship to the next level and an alarm bell went off in my head. It was a major “NO” to be but I tried to ignore it and said “maybe” to him. I often went along for the ride and never followed what I wanted. We eventually broke up after we were drifting apart. I began to crave sex less and began to hate doing anything with his penis. I tried my best to avoid having penetration and was relieved when we didn’t have to do it. I was so scared of getting pregnant, but deep down it may have been my body telling me that it wasn’t right. I was also relieved when I didn’t have to see him as much. I wanted to be away from him and felt relief when I broke up with him. It took me about a week to get over him.

The cycle almost began again when another guy pursued me but I wasn’t into it. He wanted to go out with me again and I panicked. I didn’t want to see him. All this time when I was dating boys, my sexuality was really repressed but it surfaced in cracks. I’d often create characters who were LGBT+ and the ones I was most obsessed with were often bisexual or lesbian. Most characters I created were never straight, but I turned them so because of my own internalized homophobia. I dealt with it a lot for two years and even showed discontentment with others who were openly queer. I think it was because I myself deep down knew I was like them but was afraid to be ‘different’ due to backlash. I had crafted and dressed myself in a way to be palatable to the opposite sex. I had this deep craving to ‘fit in’, so much so that I neglected my own sexuality and in a way a part of myself.

This year, I met another girl who I fell for. I began to crush hard on her and fell head over heels for her. She made me feel good about myself for once in my life. She was beautiful, kind, smart and had a wicked sense of humor. She was like a dream to me. She was my catalyst. I wanted to kiss her and hold her close. We fell asleep on the phone with each other every night and spend hours talking to each other. It was like two peas in a pod we clicked so well. I also craved her touch, her body, her skin against mine, what her lips felt like. I took notice of the little things in her from the curve of her jaw to the color of her eyes. I wrote her letters and picked flowers that I wanted her to see. I wanted to talk to her all the time.

Although our relationship was short, I will forever thank her for lighting the fire again of my sexuality. When I began talking to her, I began to take notice of girls so much more. My gaze averted from that I had learned to that of what I wanted. Pretty girls made me so nervous and I felt like my damn 14 year old self again. It was like being a kid in a candy store, I was so damn happy! I even bought pride merchandise for the first time in forever. I was okay with being gay. However, I should have never brought it up with any of my family. They said that they’d like me to end up with a boy, asked if I have talked to any boys yet, said I haven’t found the right guy, I’m just x sexuality, etc.

Now I’m scared once again and want to go back into the closet. I’m keeping this close to me. It’s my dirty little secret I guess. Questioning doesn’t help either. I doubt myself all the time and ‘test’ myself to see if I am attracted to men. I feel as if I have to ‘double-check’ to see if I am truly gay. It’s the damn doubt all over again. I also punish myself if I look at girls in a sexual way. Girls in the past thought I had touched them and I felt like a dirty pervert, hell my friend even thinks so. It’s hard for me to allow myself to like women again. I don’t want to be seen as a predator or trying to use them as an experiment. I just want a girl to love and give my all to. I want to be the best damn person I can be for my future girlfriend/wife and I’ll be damned if I can’t do that.

All of this questioning process is so confusing. Am I a lesbian? Am I bi? Maybe I’m just a straight girl in denial doing this because I’m lonely. Fuck who knows. I just know that after being with a woman, I sure as hell don’t want to go back. My attraction to men has regressed. Maybe I’m in a bi-cycle, or maybe it’s my lesbian awakening. Only time will tell. Most queer women I have talked to agree that I am a lesbian. When I call myself gay or lesbian. It makes me feel good, but I feel as if I have to resort to bisexual just in case “Mr. Right” comes along. But he probably never will. In fact, he probably never existed.

I’ve had elaborate fantasies about romance but I never saw a clear face of who the “man” was supposed to be. When I fantasize about sex, I was never there unless it was with another woman, never a man. Another woman always took that place and I’d view it from third person, like watching porn. Women light a fire in me that men do not. I’ve gotten turned on by their bodies and touch in a way that I haven’t with guys. Hell if I know why, but I do. Maybe I really am just gay and that’s okay. Maybe I am a lesbian after all. The word isn’t so “dirty” anymore.

Reading back over this reflection from how I feel about my sexuality back in august, it still really rings true to how I feel. I know I experienced attraction to men in the past, but now I feel more attracted to women more than anything. I hate how my brain tries to make me think that this will all be temporary and I will go back to a straight lifestyle eventually, but deep down I know this is what I want. Not going to lie, I don’t like talking about sexuality with anyone irl other than some of my own friends who also experienced the same thing. I tend to keep things under lock and key because I don’t want people to know about my bisexuality. I can’t change who I am yet I continue to try and disprove that I am attracted to women and try to prove that I am more attracted to men despite not really feeling that way anymore. My sexuality isn’t “fluid”, but my preferences have changed. I just wanna be with a woman possibly in the long run and if I never experience any attraction to a man again, nothing is lost for me. I tend not really to go out of my way to interact with men other than friendships just because it’s not something that I necessarily care for. I just gravitate towards spending time with other women and idk why. I know that’s not indicative of my sexuality or anything. Nothing is indicative of it other than who’ve I’ve been attracted to which is women and men. I hate being bisexual too if I’m going to be honest. There’s no basis for my attraction and experiences vary so wildly that I can’t always relate to anyone but go off what I feel.

Maybe some of the way I act is performative because I wanna escape the idea of being with a man. Maybe if I find the “perfect man”, I can learn to be with him and spend my life with him indefinitely. But that relationship with a man just seems so...unsatisfying. I just can’t do it. With women though, I think I can be with one in the long run. I have my own fears of actually not liking it or that I’m gonna react in a similar way to when I was with men in that something felt off all the time, but I’m unsure if that will happen. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to fall in love with a woman or want to spend my life with one. This all sounds very contradictory I know but this is me getting out my own thoughts. I honestly don’t think I want to be with men again. Does this make me a febfem? Maybe, but I also know that a woman just sounds right to me.

#lgbt #lgb #lgbtq #q slur #I didn’t know that using queer was a bad word and I don’t like it that much tbh #to me it means nothing #lesbian #gay #bi #bisexual #bi woman #bi women #febfem #febfems

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 3 years

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Girls Just Want to Have Fun

It’s always fun jumping into a movie I know next to nothing about, and this requested review for Wes will be no exception. All I know is that Girls Just Want to Have Fun is an 80s teen romp with the worst photoshopped cover photo I’ve ever seen. It looks like Michael Scott put it together. I know it stars girls, AND I know what those girls want. That’s half your narrative battle right there. So do they achieve the fun they seek? Well...

They do! A lot of weird shit happens along the way, but yeah, fun is had and that’s all that really matters. God, 1985 was a simpler time. I mean, I know everyone was living in constant fear that the Russians were going to invade Kansas and we’d be faced with a neverending nuclear winter, but in the face of all that existential terror you also get movies where the entire pitch is “So there’s this girl (Sarah Jessica Parker) who wants to be a dancer on tv, but her parents don’t want to let her. But she does it anyway! And her partner is chosen for her and, boy, they do not see eye to eye. But then they do! And they have to practice a lot. And then they win the dance contest!”

You know some studio exec heard that and screamed at his secretary to hold his calls for the day so he could sign the contracts and then do a mountain of blow off them.

Some thoughts:

It’s so weird to see Sarah Jessica Parker without curly hair! I was never a Sex and the City fan, so my exposure to SJP is purely Hocus Pocus based.

This dance sequence over the credits is incredible. Why do we not have shows anymore that are just a large group of young attractive people dancing in sync? No host, no dialogue, just the power of dance. I was born in the wrong decade. I would have appreciated the shit out of the 80s when I was alive.

Poor Helen Hunt - she must be one of those people who always looked like she was 35, even in high school. Granted, she was 22 when this was filmed and she’s playing a teenager, but still.

Helen Hunt is wearing dinosaurs in her hair. 80s fashion was on a wavelength that I don’t think any of us living will ever see again.

Omg this rich bitch (Natalie, I guess? She’s not named for at least the first 30 min of the movie) had Claire’s closet from Clueless 10 years before the movie existed! This is already groundbreaking.

NOW SHE HAS A BUG ON HER HAT. A big plastic green grasshopper. This review is mainly going to be about the insane things Lynne (Helen Hunt) wears.

Speaking of - I’m getting big lesbian vibes from Lynne Stone and I am so here for it. The homoerotic tension when she acts like she’s gonna fight the rich bitch? Delicious. The immediate intimate connection she makes with SJP? Practically U-Hauling.

I love an 80s dance montage, and this movie promises to contain basically nothing but that tied loosely together with some nonsensical dialogue in between. This is gonna be my new favorite movie.

Ooh Nestle Quik syrup! I forgot about Nestle Quik.

Favorite line: “There is a time and a place for calypso music, young lady.”

Ohhh I see what this is gonna be - Janey (SJP) is a classically trained dancer and gymnast, and Jeff (Lee Montgomery) is more of a rough and tumble music video kinda guy from the streets. You can tell cause he’s got a motorcycle and a leather jacket. And he wears cutoff sleeves! He’s a white guy in Chicago, who could be more street than that? And they’re butting heads! How will they ever be able to make it work for the big dance contest??

How did Natalie know Janey’s phone number? She specifically said it was unlisted. Unless she remembers it from overhearing it offhand after the dance tryouts...? That’s insane, I can’t even remember what I wore yesterday let alone a 7-digit number someone shouted in a crowd.

Lynne Fashion Alert: Is she wearing a belt made out of bullets? And a Davy Crocket hat. This is galaxy brain lesbian fashion. If the costume designer for this movie didn’t win 10 Oscars...

The music director on the other hand...not sure what is up with all these weird KidzBop covers of excellent songs like “Dancing in the Street” or the titular “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” but if you’re gonna include them, you gotta spring for the originals. This is just sad.

I’ve never been at a party with an ice sculpture. I think that’s how you know you’re among the rich.

Whatever happened to Jonathan Silverman? I miss when he was the nebbishy sidekick in every 80s movie.

Who enters a party by catapulting through the damn window?? Punk does not mean that you no longer know how to use doors, sir!

Who serves a full roasted turkey at a party? Is this how rich people live? This feels like the equivalent of using Google translate to identify rich people food in another language, then translating it back to English.

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now I think she has space shuttles in her hair.

Wow we got a real 1-2 punch of sexual harassment in this club. Who wrote this Tune in Tokyo gag and was like “You know what would be hilarious? If this shitty little nerd convinced this girl to raise her arms so he can just grab her boobs full on, front and center. And then she gets upset and runs away. God I’m good at this *snorts another line*”

Lynne Fashion Alert: Now it’s two globes (like, two Earths) with crab claws on them? This is a choice that I don’t understand, but I think I may just not be seeing what it is clearly. I am digging her mirror sunglasses though.

I know Janey is smart but when did she learn how to hotwire a security system? It’s not like Google or Youtube existed, and I doubt there was a library book about how to dismantle that specific system. MYTH BUSTED.

Oh god oh no I’m so gay for these Dixon sisters from Kansas City, these two gorgeous black women in tuxes and spandex leotards. They 100% should have won this dance contest.

Why did guys stop wearing crop tops? Can we bring back slutty quarterback as a fashion trend for dudes? Seriously, the costume design here is everything.

I really love Jeff and his little family - his sister and his dad are so proud of him and supportive. You never see that in dance narratives featuring guys. I like the reversal here of gendered expectations.

Did I Cry? No, but my heart was warmed at various moments.

Honestly, why can’t more narrative arcs in movies be solved via dance battle?

Lynne Fashion Alert: She’s now dressed as...Cleopatra? Wait why the fuck is there a horse here?

Oh that’s it that’s the end! Man, you can’t be mad at a tight 90 min film like this - it gets in, it gets out, bing bang boom you’re done with enough time to read before bed.

Is this a cinematic masterpiece? No. But is it good clean fun? Absolutely. Barring the brief [obligatory 80s] sexual harassment scene, there’s very little to be upset with here. Kids wanna dance, they’re told they can’t dance, they dance anyway! It’s the power of dance! You’re either into it or you’re not, but if you’re not, I ask that you search your heart and try to find one teeny tiny sliver of joy inside it. You’re gonna need to feed that joy if you wanna make it through 2021, and watching this movie is a darn good place to start.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #girls just want to have fun #sarah jessica parker #helen hunt #lee montgomery #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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zwritestuff · 4 years

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Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Five) - Kyara

A/N: JESUS. This took as long as the previous chapter and it isn’t nearly as long as the last. Sorry, guys. But hey, I literally wrote this in under 24 hours! A personal record, if I do say so myself. We get some s p i c y drama, too 👀 things can only go up from here. A million thanks to @fromthenorthernskies for screaming beta-ing this chapter 💗 Hope you enjoy!

PSA- the author does not take responsability for the feelings this chapter may cause, however, is more than welcome to be screamed at. 😌

CW: alcohol, smoking.

Read on AO3.

***

“Everything’s fake,” Kyne blurts out before she can properly process what she’s saying, head fuzzy from all the Tequila shots. Priyanka looks at her with a grin, sipping on her cocktail, saying something about agreeing with her, that they all know Scarlett got their lips done back in college, but Kyne stops her. “That’s not what I mean.”

Priyanka knits her brows in a frown, looking puzzled. Kyne supposses she can’t expect much from her, since they’re already drunk as hell, barely able to walk without stumbling—and she’s being unintentionally mysterious, blurting out things like that while they’re outside the bathroom waiting for Scarlett and Bo. Jesus. She has to gather herself and think something coherent.

“My relationship with Kiara, it’s fake,” she clarifies, and it somehow feels as if an invisible weight has been lifted from her shoulders. And then, the regret and panic hits her, as she remembers that no one was supposed to know.

But before she can come up with an excuse—say it’s a joke, or something of the sort—Priyanka narrows her eyes, tilting her head, giving her an accusatory look. “I fucking knew it,” she says, so calm and collected, but Kyne can clearly distinguish the offense behind her words.

Kyne recoils for a moment, blinking repeatedly until she processes what Priyanka just said. “You knew?”

“Duh.” Priyanka takes a sip of her drink, staring at Kyne dead in the eye. “Well I mean, I kinda suspected it, but you always have this stupid lovey-dovey face when you’re with her, and, I dunno, I never saw you look at anyone like that,” she explains, slurring ever so slightly, but her tone is rather serious—or as serious as someone as drunk as Priyanka can be—and Kyne understands every single word, flushing a deeper shade of red with each one.

“I don’t like Kiara,” it’s the first thing that comes out of her mouth, a tad too defensive. Though, if she were to be honest, it’s not like she’s entirely wrong—she does feel generally happy around Kiara, unable to bite back a smile with anything related to her. But it’s not “lovey-dovey.” It’s not… Or at least she thinks so.

Anyway. Priyanka cocks an eyebrow—that at the beginning of the night was perfectly painted and now it’s started to smudge around the edges—and presses her index finger on Kyne’s chest, determination burning in her gaze.

“No, you don’t like her—you love her, you stupid bitch,” she declares, proud of her conclusion. If Kyne’s cheeks were red before, now they resemble an apple, even under layers of foundation.

“I fucking don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” Priyanka cuts her off with a solemn tone. Her drink spills ever so slightly from the glass, and Kyne tries to point it out, but Priyanka shushes her. “Oh my god, how did you not know? Of course you’re in love with her, you dumbass. What else did you think would happen? Huh? You made her a fucking dress with pockets for free—”

“That’s technically not true.”

“—and you’re the same bitch that told me I’d have to wait three to five business days for you to fix one of my tank tops!” She finishes her rant with a matter-of-factly tone, sounding as if she just resolved the DaVinci Code.

Kyne stares blankly at her, trying to find something to deny Priyanka’s crazy theory. Sure, there’s just something about Kiara’s personality out of work hours that attracts her like a magnet, and, and as she found out after spending time with her at the ball, already one week ago, they have incredible chemistry together.

But that doesn’t mean she likes, let alone loves, her.

She’s about to tell Priyanka as much, when they hear Bo and Scarlett call out their names as they exit the bathroom. Before she knows it, they’re roaming around the club again, stopping to dance when there’s good music, and buying drink after drink.

And she’s having a good time, she really is; Kyne never gets bored when the Dynamic Four are together, more often than not bringing the chaos wherever they are. But Priyanka’s words linger in her mind, heavy on her conscience. Loving Kiara isn’t an option, there’s no way—but does she like her?

Well, as a friend, obviously, otherwise she would’ve never allowed her to crash in her office, even if she was her boss. But there are those fleeting moments, where Kyne’s heart skips a beat when she smiles at her, and how when she loosens up when they’re alone, eyes crinkling when she laughs wholeheartedly at her jokes, it makes her feel warm inside. She never paid them any mind, because she always felt some sort of pride in making her friends laugh, and she’s a raging lesbian, so any pretty girl that smiles at her makes her nervous.

Though now that Priyanka brings it up, she does act differently around Kiara than she would with her regular friends. And Kyne might try to excuse it by saying it’s just her trying to keep the faintest professionalism, but looking at it with a different light, it dawns on her that, holy fucking christ, she actually likes Kiara.

Oh, shit.

It seems almost like a joke from the universe that the second she realized it, she was scrolling through random Instagram Stories, landing on Kiara’s by pure luck. It was a selfie from her and one of her friends, they were out too, apparently to a bar. And Kiara looked so damn stunning, with her flawless make-up, sparkly silver dress and loose curls, her heart does that stupid thing where it beats like it wants to come out of her ribcage.

Damn. Okay, maybe she does like her, an awful lot at that.

“Pri?” Kyne calls out, leaning with her back pressed against the counter of the bathroom. Priyanka glances at her, trying to salvage her melting eyebrows, cursing through gritted teeth her second hand make-up.

“Yeah?”

“You were right,” she says, the mysterious tone back again, though this time is purposeful, as she’s more sober now. Priyanka vaguely asks her about what, before going back to wiping the sweat around her eyebrows with a tissue. “About liking Kiara. I think I do,” Kyne admits with a defeated tone, bringing a hand to her chest and giving a dramatic sigh.

Priyanka chuckles, lazily looking at Kyne. “Of course I am right, I was right about Carol from accounting fucking Jeff from my team in the janitor closet. Nothing escapes me,” she says, making Kyne laugh a tad too loud than she would if she was fully sober. This is a way too watered down reaction than she expected, but Priyanka does turn into a quieter person when she’s drunk—she’s not sure how that works, considering she’s loud as all hell when she’s sober.

“True, I guess,” Kyne concedes, shifting her position to look directly at her friend. “I wonder if she, uh, if she feels the same,” she asks out loud, not really expecting a reply, but Priyanka shrugs.

“I mean, I don’t know her as you do, clearly, but I’d say as far as you go, you have it bad, because you always were all about ‘eating the rich’ when we were in college, and look at you now, you’re in love with a rich girl,” Priyanka teasingly comments with a snort, and Kyne gasps, offended, as she playfully shoves her.

“I guess so, because I don’t wanna eat her,” she replies, not bothering on correcting Priyanka when she says she loves her, because she knows she won’t be able to get her to understand she doesn’t—yet. A thought crosses her mind when she thinks of Kiara in that royal blue dress she made for her, looking more ethereal than ever, and, bolded by the alcohol, she says after a moment, “I mean, not in that way, but—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Priyanka deadpans, cutting her off again. Her tired expression causes Kyne to go in a fit of giggles, though if she thinks about it for a moment, she’s more so laughing at herself for taking so damn long to figure it out, and not even on her own. Priyanka turns to look at her, finally giving up on salvaging her eyebrows and pinches her in the arm. “If you two get married one day, I demand to be the maid of honor, because your ass would’ve never realized without me,” she declares, matter-of-factly.

Kyne pinches her back, gasping in offense. “I would’ve realized at some point!” Priyanka arches a brow, cocking a hip as she turns to face her. “Fine, maybe I wouldn’t have. But it’s not my fault emotions are so complicated!”

Priyanka sighs dramatically, patting Kyne’s shoulder, tossing the dirty tissue in the trash before taking her hand to get out of the bathroom.

They wave through the crowd to find Scarlett and Bo perched against one of the windows for the smokers, talking between drags and occasionally eyeing the people around them. Scarlett asks what took them so long, shouting over the blasting music, and Priyanka just says the bathroom was full.

Scarlett barely cares for her reply, and Bo just suggests they should take a selfie before anyone else’s make-up starts melting. Priyanka swats her in the arm, but ends up giving in, and they somehow manage to take a picture they all like within three tries. That, in itself, is a miracle.

They take some more, just to be sure, before Scarlett proposes to buy one last round of drinks—closing time is soon, but it seems like that won’t stop her, so they drag Priyanka along and Kyne stands in her spot, guarding it while she talks to Bo.

“What do you think of this one?” She asks, showing Bo a picture she took at the beginning of the night, striking a pose on the balcony of Priyanka’s apartment, staring at the camera with her signature resting bitch face, but make it fashion. Her tight black leather skirt hugged her curves, and her hot pink crop top looked great against her skin.

Bo takes the phone with her free hand, dying cigarette in the other, and looks at it for a moment before nodding with a complicit smile. “You look hot, do I have to suppose Scarlett took it?”

“You know it.” She gives her a wink, typing in the caption Scarlett’s username, because they always get mad if they don’t get credited for the photos they take of their friends, and stops before posting. “I don’t have a caption in mind right now, do you?” Kyne looks at her, and Bo blows out the smoke before answering.

“I dunno, I always put either a stupid pun or a sex lyric.” Bo shrugs, and it’s not really of much help, but after a moment, Kyne googles the lyrics of that new Pussycat Dolls song.

The less you do, the more it makes me crazy, she reads, squinting slightly. Kyne supposses it’s somehow fitting—it takes Kiara to smile for her to feel all sorts of things. She hopes it’s a hint discreet enough, and presses post before she chickens out.

It seems like the queue to get a drink hasn’t slowed down, because Scarlett and Priyanka have yet to return, so she checks her phone every so often, definitely not to see if Kiara had liked her photo, between her casual conversation with Bo as she finishes her cigarette.

Bo is saying something about this guy that has been looking at her intently for the past ten minutes when Kyne checks her phone yet again. She was going to lock it again after briefly going through her notifications—until something stuck out to her.

@kiara.qc commented on your photo: “you’re hotter than hell”. Followed by three fire emojis.

She tries to fight back a toothy grin, but that’s next to impossible, and her fingers hover over the screen for a second too long, mind blank.

“Geez, girl, can you make it any more obvious that you’re whipped for Miss Bitch Heiress?” Bo says, and though she tries to play it off as a joke, Kyne knows her well enough to detect the underlying annoyance.

“Don’t call her that,” she says, “She’s not a bitch. And what if I am, anyway?”

Bo merely rolls her eyes, her cigarette all but finished as she stomps on it to light it off. “Oh, c’mon, as if you don’t know,” she scoffs, and it comes off just a little too rude for Kyne’s liking.

“The fuck you mean? Know what?” She squints, locking her phone and placing it in her front pocket. Bo cocks a brow, folding her arms.

“Oh, so you don’t know Kiara fires the girls she sleeps with?”

Kyne’s heart stops for a second, all the color draining from her face as she stares at Bo, curiosity in her expression. She tries to ask why does she think that, but she struggles to form a coherent sentence.

“I think you forget that me and Scarlett have been working for the company for years now,” she proceeds after a moment, “I was already in my position as PR manager when she started working half-time. And of course she got the special treatment and climbed to an important position within a month there, so now me and Scarlett were receiving orders from a teen fresh from high school.” Kyne wants to say that technically it’s not Kiara’s fault, but Bo goes on before she can open her mouth. “Then, of course she started to sleep around with some of our co-workers. Suspiciously enough, most of them were fired or quit the job shortly after.”

Kyne feels the dread pool at the pit of her stomach—there’s no way this is true, it has to be manufactured office drama, or maybe what really happened was extremely taken out of context. But there’s no way in hell Kiara is that type of person.

“Maybe she’s changed,” she muses, wanting to have the faintest hope that it’s not true. Bo squeezes her shoulder, giving her a pitiful smile.

“Listen, bitch, I love you and shit, but if I were you I’d stop this before you’re way too into it.”

It’s too late, Kyne thinks, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Priyanka and Scarlett come back shortly after it, and Kyne doesn’t speak to Bo for the rest of the night.

***

When Kyne wakes up next morning, she has a heavenly hangover, and a feeling of hollowness in her heart.

Bo’s words haunted her for the rest of the night, her demeanor doing a full 180°. Fortunately enough, Priyanka and Scarlett were too drunk to notice. But Bo was sober, since she didn’t like to drink, and was their assigned driver, anyway. She did pick up on her change, and Kyne was thankful she was the first one she dropped off once the club closed and they had to go home.

Her bed was a mess, just like her mind, and she didn’t have the strength to reach for her phone and check her latest post on Instagram, knowing Kiara was at the top of the comment section.

Everything she knew to be true about her is suddenly put to the test, and Kyne doesn’t know if she should believe her best friend, who’s only seeking out for her, or Kiara, who has been nothing but kind and sweet and nothing like people think. But maybe Kyne is a little too biased.

And then there’s the fact they’re not really sleeping together, or dating for real, for that matter; if that was true, she can’t fire her once they’re done pretending—or can she?

She groans out loud, tossing and turning in her bed. Her head is pounding, aching from last night, and the least she needs is over-heating it with such incoherent train of thought.

She’d like to think she’s able to stop liking Kiara for the sake of making things easier once they inevitably break up and things get awkward when people wonder why are they still hanging out, as if nothing happened—she’d really like to, but it’s easier said than done, for her heart plummets against her ears when she replies to Kiara’s comment with a simple red heart, and clicks on her profile, finding that she also posted a photo from last night.

Kyne sighs, admiring the photo a second too long before liking it and locking her phone, knowing things will be awkward on Monday morning.

#some things are bound to be fic #fake dating au #kyara #kyne #online kyne #priyanka love #scarlett bobo #boa #my fanfiction #rpdr fanfiction

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velveteencurtains · 3 years

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evermore first impressions!

willow - GIRL EUEJDNSKJDJEJD LOST IN YOUR CURRENT LIKE A PRICELESS WIINE!!!!! TAKE MY HAND!!! WRECK MY PLANS!!! THATS MY MAN!!!!!! girl this is so fcuking GOOD! gonna be 100% honest the 1 is a better album opening but this is so fucking good you guys. life was a willow and it bent right to your wind!!! ID COME BACK STRONGER THAN A 90’S TREND???? EVERY BAIT AND SWITCH WAS A WORK OF ART??? SHES SICK SHES REALLY SICK I SWEAR. the way she sings “that’s my man!” yes ma’am yes ma’am!!!!!! the parallel between “I knew you stepping on the last train” and then “you know my train could take you home” SHES SICK YOUR HONOR SHES SICK

champagne problems - okay we love a piano opener. i’m so conflicted on what i think this song is gonna be about. MORE TRAIN LYRICS GIRLIE. this really is this is me trying’s older, sadder sister. “our group of friends/don’t think we’ll say that word again” MA’AM??? SHE WOULD HAVE MADE SUCH A LOVELY BRIDE SUCH A SHAME SHES FUCKED IN THE HEAD??????? IM LOSIJG MY FUCKIJG MIND. taylor and joe wrote this together? we love a couple with shared mental illnesses

gold rush - jack antonoff do not let me down. GIRL THE HARMONIES AT THE VERY BEGINNING JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE. okay I can definitely see what they meant by this song being about being lost in a daydream, the juxtaposition between the chorus and the verses is AMAZING. this is just gorgeous’s older sister huh???? “ocean blue eyes/looking in mine/i feel like i might sink and drown and die” and “eyes like sinking/ships on waters/so inviting/i almost jump in”

‘tis the damn season - i can’t tell if i want this song to be christmassy or not. OH SO THIS IS JUST HOLIDATE. TAYLOR JUST WATCHED HOLIDATE AND WROTE A SONG ABOUT IT. this is a continuation of tim mcgraw, argue with the wall. NO BC TIM MCGRAW IS ABOUT LIKE A LOVE FROM HIGH SCHOOL AND THIS IS LIKE COMING HOME FROM COLLEGE AND REUNITING WITH THEM BC YOURE BOTH DEPRESSED AND LONELY

tolerate it - jesus christ i’m not emotionally ready for this. STOP THIS IS THE PRELUDE TO BETTER MAN. LIKE BETTER MAN IS AFTER SHES ALREADY LEFT BUT THIS IS BEFORE WHEN SHES STUCK AND KNOW SHE DESERVES BETTER BUT SHE JUST TAKES IT IM GONNA CRYYYYYYYYYYY. okay but i’m imagining the babe music video and that whole of like the doting housewife who gave up everything for her husband and does everything to make him happy but he just does not appreciate it at all and he doesn’t see how much his indifference hurts her. @taylorswift mv now. honestly? loved that but as a track 5 it’s pretty weak

no body, no crime - I PREDICTED THIS WAS GONNA BE MY TOP SONG ON THE ALBUM LETS SEE IF I’M RIGHT. GIRL THE SIRENS AND “HE DID IT” AS THE FIRST LINES?? THEN THE COUNTRY INSTRUMENTAL??? TAYLOR HAS FINALLY GIVEN ME A GOOD OLD FASHIONED “MURDERED MY CHEATING HUSBAND” COUNTRY SONG HELL YESSSSSSS. OH THE WIFE IS MISSING???? NOT GONE GIRLLLLLLLLL MISS TAYLOR CHANNELING AMY DUNNE HERE!!!!! OH SHUT UPPPPPP SHES A LESBIAN WITH ESTE’S SISTER AND THEY COVERED UP HIS MURDER AND NOW THEYRE GONNA LESBIAN TOGETHER MISS TAYLOR

happiness - okay miss happiness you’ve got a lot to live up to but let’s do this. NOT THE MIRRORBALL PARALLEL “i was dancing when the music stopped” and “when no one is around, my dear/you’ll find me on my tallest top toes/spinning in my highest heels, love” NOT THE IDEA OF CHANGING YOURSELF JUST TO KEEP SOMEONE BY YOUR SIDE IM GONNA SOB taylor please stop this i cant emotionally handle any of this. girl this is the prelude to tolerate it which is the prelude to better man

dorothea - okay so seven’s older sister? so dorothea and whoever this singer is were besties when they were teens and then dorothea moved away and now the singer misses her former best friend and also first love and also they’re lesbians yeah it’s gay it’s so gay. taylor i’m literally begging you from the bottom of my fucking soul please give us a music video with two girls please miss swift i ask of you this one (1) thing

coney island - see i thought this was gonna be seven’s older sister when the tracklist was announced so now idk what to expect! JESUS OKAY I KNOW IT SAYS “feat. The National” IN THE TITLE BUT I FORGOT AND I GOT SCARED BY HIS VOICE. NOT A FUCKIJG CAR ACCIDENT TAYLOR IM REALLY SORRY I RRALIZE YOU ARE YOUR OWN PERSON AND I NEED TO STOP CONNECTING YOU TO HARRY BUT REALLYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. okay anyway here’s my theory hear me out: This is dorothea’s husband who’s confused why his high school sweetheart wife doesn’t love him anymore and why she’s now hanging out with her old high school best friend again damn that’s weird they’re like really super close that’s super odd. anyway that’s just a theory I actually don’t really know what this songs about! miss swift is too smart for me

ivy - stop this song is so sweet!!!!!! i feel like this is getaway car’s sister! i need to stop doing that i know it gets annoying but really honestly it is! NO NO NO THIS IS DOROTHEA’S PERSPECTIVE WHEN SHE HAS AN AFFAIR WITH HER HS BESTIE AND HER HUSBAND STARTS TO FIND OUT GUYS IVE FIGURED IT OUTTTTTTT. WAIT WAIT WAIT THE HS BESTIE IS FROM NO BODY NO CRIME AND DOROTHEA IS ESTE’S SISTER GUYS IVE FIGURED IT THE FUCK OUT YOU GUYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS I GOT IT

cowboy like me - let’s yee and let’s haw ladies and gents. WHOS SINGING????? WHOS SINGING WITH HER???? taylor shut up for a second lemme hear who tf this is. AM I CRAZY OR IS THIS JOE???? i’m probably dumb. but am i? why can i not at all remember what joe’s voice sounds like rn. is that joe??? im so confused. maybe i’m super dumb and it’s really obvious and i’m just fucking stupid. it’s probably not joe it’s probably some country legend that everyone else knows bc they grew up yeeing and hawing and i’m but a wee city slicker but i’m gonna hold onto this stupid theory that it’s joe singing with her until someone proves me wrong later. also this song is fucking gorgeous where’s my cowboy hat not wearing one while listening to this song makes me feel sacrelige. okay wait tay and aaron wrote this one is it aaron? i’m sorry taylor i don’t listen to the national you can hate me if you want

long story short - god the production on this slaps!!!!! and the idea of being hurt before and then finding your love and being all about them and not even caring abt what happened before!!!!! god i’m gonna cry i’m gonna cry. NO MORE KEEPING SCORE NOW I JUST KEEP YOU WARM?????? taylor really said “oh you’re not in love and i’m gonna make you feel like SHIT ABOUT IT” taylor pls a petition to let us say “BITCH” after the last line so it’s “i survived...bitch!” okay pls and thank you

marjorie - oh is this about taylor’s grandma :(((( i knew she used her name but this feels like it’s really all about her. babey. this is so sweet. taylor i love you

closure - okay the opening??? slaps! literally! okay the production of this is interesting! okay i’m like trying to figure out who this is about....who cares this is so good. oh my god the distortion??? it just underlines the anger of it all so perfectly and i love

evermore - exile hive let’s GOOOO. please be an exile pt 2 pls be an exile pt 2. so odd to me because, as a whole, this actually feels like a way more happy and optimistic album than folklore did, yet the title comes from the line “i had a feeling so peculiar/that this pain would be for/evermore”. OKAY BON IVERRRRRR. the violence of the dog days? that’s my next instagram caption thanks taylor. NOT A DUET SECTION AGAIN LIKE IN EXILE TAYLOR PLEASE I CANT HANDLE THISSSSSSS. “we always walked a very thin line” AND “is there a line that we could just go cross?” THE PARALELLELLLLRJSNDBBD. I’m gonna die for this I really think. okay so she ends it on this pain wouldn’t last evermore so that’s good

overall? this is a masterpiece. miss swift has done it again. folklore aoty 2021 and evermore aoty 2022. no body, no crime is really THAT BITCH. i need a mv miss swift! okay bye gonna go cry over this

update: after listening all night i feel like i need to point out that i’m stupid and thought este was the mistress and the singer was the wife when in fact ESTE is the wife in no body, no crime. SO addendum to my theory: este and dorothea were besties in hs then dorothea left and got married and so did este but este’s hubby cheated so then este’s friend murders him and she’s cool w it, then dorothea and her husband move back home and este and dorothea reconnect and realize their long hidden feelings for one another, dorothea leaves her husband and she and este run away together

ANOTHER UPDATE: ‘TIS THE DAMN SEASON IS FROM DOROTHEA’S POINT OF VIEW!!!!!!!! WHEN SHE COMES HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS AND SHES SINGING TO ESTE!!!!!! CJNECNSJSNNDN

#taylor swift #evermore #taylurking #evermore era #this looks weird on mobile but normal on desktop so if this looks weird to you i'm sorry idk how to fix it #my post

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offrankies · 4 years

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New Beginnings || Graham & Frankie

TIMING: A few days ago PARTIES: @grahamstoker & @offrankies SUMMARY: An anxious, homeless lesbian with lots of questions convinces a hematophobic vampire to let her be his roommate, and gets some answers in the process.

Rushing in to a new town with nothing but a backpack filled with things hadn’t been one of her brightest choices. Frankie knew her grandma had to butter up to her parents into accepting her decision and that would mean eventually getting most of her stuff from her house, but until then, she couldn’t afford a place to live on her own as she only had enough money for a month’s worth of rent and food. Her first day in town had been spent driving around, in hopes of finding Layla walking around, but also to start learning her way around. She’d eventually found a grocery store, a board on the entrance with different kinds of ads. One in particular had stood out, a simple “room for rent” with a scribbled address. Her grandma would’ve argued it was sketchy, but at this point she was desperate for a roof to sleep under. A knot had formed on her throat as she stood outside of the apartment, her hands clenched in fists against her chest. She had no job, no education other than school; just hopes and dreams that she knew White Crest would fulfill. With a deep breath, heart pounding on her chest, Frankie placed two knocks on the door.

The city of Rome wasn’t built in a day, they said, but Graham found himself absently wondering if it was built by vampires as he sat splayed on his couch, one leg over the arm as he lazily flipped through the channels on his TV. It probably wasn’t; thank god he wasted thought on that. He finally had a day off both his jobs, which he seemed to have worked every day since he arrived in this weird-ass town and dammit, he was going to enjoy his nothing-to-do. So it was odd that that would be the one day he received a couple knocks on the door and he frowned to himself, wondering who it could’ve been. He stretched and got to his feet slowly, trudging over to the door and not bothering to look through the peephole before opening it to regard a… girl. Teenager. It took him just one short moment to mask his confusion and his expression softened. “Hey there,” He said lightly. “What can I do for you?” He never was one to shy away from temporarily entertaining (and maybe even trolling) passing salespeople; she was no different.

Frankie’s hands started fidgeting, mindlessly pulling the broken skin on her nails as she waited for the door to open. It hadn’t been even a minute, but the seconds stretched like years in front of her, and the moment the door opened, she braced herself to the shiny colors that would greet her… except nothing came, just the voice of an older man. Her mouth opened and then closed again, in shock. There was absolutely nothing surrounding the other, at least nothing other than air, and she had to fight the urge to raise her hand and touch him to know that he was real. It wasn’t possible, never in her life she’d seen a person without an aura - at least, not one that was breathing and staring at her with bright eyes. There were times where she’d met people with small, almost concealed auras, but there was always a hint, a glimpse of colorful shadows around them. His voice made her blink a few times rapidly, snapping out of her thoughts, and she quickly straightened her back, clearing her throat, ignoring her heartbeat on her ears. If she had been nervous before, it had turned into excitement. Who- no, What was he? “Hi, I’m-- I’m Frankie, I just moved here. Uh---” Her shaking hands reached into her backpack, pulling a creased piece of paper and extending it to him. “ I was wondering if you-- if the room offer is still there?” Out of all the things Graham was expecting the girl named Frankie to try to sell him on, asking for his spare room wasn’t on that list. Part of him forgot that he had even offered the room out. Only part, mind, but it was still enough for him to stand there for a second or two to process what exactly he wrote. He remembered soon enough, though, and he gave her a small nod, taking the paper from her gently and noting her… presumed nervousness. “Yeah! Yeah, c’mon in, Frankie.” He offered, standing aside to allow the girl passage. He was thinking of someone a little older, perhaps, but he had moved out of his house by the time he was 18 so he knew it was possible. “Don’t be scared,” He added, his tone casual and approachable. “I promise I’m not one of those weirdos that post stuff to lure girls in. Not my style.” Hopefully she would believe him on that.

In all honesty, the possibility of him being a predator hadn’t crossed Frankie’s mind until he mentioned it, and she couldn’t help but laugh at that. Normally she’d know if he had such intentions, but for the first time in her life she was completely clueless with what and who she was dealing with. Still, she was way too interested to let the opportunity pass. She made her way inside, looking around the room. “I’m not scared.” She reassured him, turning around to give him another look, the lack of aura once again making her breath catch in her throat. Maybe she needed glasses? Maybe the place was somehow locking the auras from showing? “This is… all new for me, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” She didn’t know if she was referring to finding a place to live or the lack of flowing colors everywhere, but she guessed it was true for both. “It’s a lovely place though, … uhm.” Her lips pressed together, waiting for a name. “Well… start by taking a seat anywhere you think’s comfortable,” Graham replied, closing the door behind her and going over to the bar that separated his kitchen from the living room, keeping his eyes on her not warily but just to show that he was giving her his attention. “Oh, it’s Graham,” He gave her the name as he got out a glass and filled it with ice and water. “Tell me about you, Frankie; how old are you, what do you like to do, things like that.” He suggested, going back over to her and offering the glass to her. At least she wasn’t afraid; good. He tried to avoid giving that impression when he could avoid it.

Her eyes moved around the room, and Frankie wasn’t completely sure if she should sit down on the couch or not. “Nice to meet you Graham.” Oh, fuck it, if she was going to live here she needed to see if the couch was comfortable or not. Taking her backpack off her back, she sat down, now focused on the man. “Well, I’m nineteen, soon to be twenty. Or not so soon, really. My birthday’s in November. I want to get a bachelor’s in childhood education so I really need to look into colleges around here. Uhm, I also kinda need a job but I have enough money for rent until I get one.” Was she rambling? Oh god she started rambling. She wiped the sweat of her hands on her black jeans, a nervous laugh escaping her. What are you supposed to say in these things? “I like animals and I have my own motorcycle...?” As the girl situated herself, Graham studied her movements, her speech patterns and, of course, the information she gave him about herself and he couldn’t help but scoff when she told him that she didn’t have a job but did have a motorcycle. “So you’re from out of town,” He assumed. “Your only education is high school and you need a job,” He basically repeated her though he noted that she had money. Part of him wondered for a moment if it was because her parents were rich, that she was a thief or she had a job before but that was then and this was now so it didn’t matter too much to him. “And you like animals. That’s good, at least.” He chuckled, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. “So I gotta ask; what made you come to White Crest?” Relatively speaking, White Crest DID have the weird ability to draw people to it for some reason or another. He had gotten a suggestion but he was learning that a lot of people just… showed up. He felt like that might’ve been the case with this girl.

“I know it doesn’t look good, but I can’t get a job or enroll in college unless I find a place to live first.” Frankie’s hands were once again fidgeting on her lap, the realization that she was blowing the interview. However, his question made her freeze on her seat. The image of Layla crying and telling her all the secrets she had kept from her filled her mind, and she had to bite down her lower lip to keep herself from tearing up. “I’m … I’m looking for my girlfriend.” Her voice was awfully quiet in comparison with her previous outburst, and once more she found herself fishing inside her backpack, grabbing the tape to show it to him, her lips tightly pressed together. For a minute, she didn’t say anything, pondering. She could lie, come up with a pitiful excuse and use emotional leverage to convince him to let her stay; or she could be honest, and risk sleeping on the streets yet another night. “Her parents told me she was dead, but she sent me this two days ago so I’m- I’m trying to find her.” He was thrown for another loop and Graham’s expression got more gentle almost immediately when Frankie came clean about why she was there. His thoughts nowadays seemed to occur in short bursts of memory and the briefest of contemplations and for that moment, he recalled the face of a woman, with a warm smile and an infectious laugh. Her hand on his shoulder, her lips against his, the smell of expensive wine tingeing her breath as-- He blinked and he gave a small sigh as he took the tape from her shaking hands. He would’ve been lying if he thought to deny her request, to tell her she’d have more luck somewhere else and to not get involved but he couldn’t bring himself to and he turned the tape in his hands carefully before handing it back. “Okay,” He relinquished. “Okay, just… calm down, it’s okay.” He assured, putting his hands on his hips. He exhaled through his nose. This changed a couple things up. “So… since we’re being honest, what’s going on with your girlfriend? Why did her parents sign her off as dead?”

Frankie's lips were once more tightly pressed, a knot on her throat forming as the other stood quietly. She had flunked it, and she quietly closed her backpack and grabbed it as she stood up, ready to be kicked out. However, his answer and question made her open her eyes wide, carefully taking the tape. Once again, she was at a crossroad, needing to decide whether to lie or not. A nervous laugh escaped her, and she shoved the tape back with her belongings, not daring to meet his eye, the lack of aura still making her nervous, but what she was about to admit made her even more anxious. "You won't believe me if I tell you." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked up to him, an apologetic smile painting her lips. "She's- she's a werewolf-- and her family wanted her dead because they're hunters and hunters kill werewolves, and she was supposed to be one of them but then she wasn't---" Taking a deep breath to slow down her babbling, she hadn't realized the tears were willing down her face. "I- I know this sounds taken straight out of a lame 90's movie like Teen Wolf but I swear I'm being honest." Though he could feel Frankie’s anxiety radiating off of her, Graham was determined to keep his eyes on her with no impression that he was about to toss her out. However, from the moment she said ‘werewolf’, he smothered the immediate scoff that wanted so badly to escape his body and he inhaled sharply through his nose as a compromise. He remained steadfast in his gaze as she continued to be upfront with him, or at least upfront enough that he didn’t think she was actually lying - rather, he found Frankie’s very evident attachment to this girl to be endearing. He was realising as she talked that he probably wasn’t the best person to deal with teenage drama. He got another short memory of the woman from before, thinking she would’ve been much better at this. “Oh, sweetie,” He did scoff this time as he gently reached forward and wiped a tear from her face with a thumb, giving her a smile. “I believe you.” He said, stroking the side of her face briefly in what he hoped was a warm gesture (her skin certainly was) before pulling away and reaching over to retrieve the decorative box of tissues from the side table in the corner and offering it out to her. “That’s awful, though. I can’t imagine being killed or hunted by your own family. And so young to be given such a curse.” He lied this time, easily but he still meant what he said. “No more crying on the couch. Just take a deeeep breath.” He had to lighten the mood if only for his own sake.

The moment Graham's hand touched her, Frankie took a sharp intake and let out a sharp yet soft scream. He was colder than the ice cream she used to share with Layla, and the seconds his finger lingered on her face stretched dlike eternity, her heart sinking on her chest. "You're cold." She whispered, swallowing to get rid of the knot the crying had formed in her throat, and for a moment, Frankie felt small, and alone, realizing that she had left everything and everyone chasing something that sounded like a dream. Without a warning, she closed the distance between them and burrowed her face on his chest, her sobs filling the room. Nevermind that he was a complete stranger with no aura and honestly a potential murderer - he believed her, and for a second that's all she needed. "Please let me stay here." Her voice was muffled by the clothes and her sobs, and Frankie was too desperate and broken to realize that not only his hands were cold, but that his whole body felt like a big human shaped rock. One moment Graham was offering out tissues and the next he was standing there with a teenage girl burying her face in his shirt, feeling her fingers grasping at his clothes like she was drowning and scrabbling to grab onto anything to keep her from going under. He gulped and his eyes darted around the room under furrowed brows for a few moments, as if he were the butt of some hidden-camera show. Well… he knew, he knew that it didn’t matter if he was being secretly recorded or not; he used to be a surgeon. That part of his brain kickstarted for the situation and though he experienced hesitancy, his mind still seeming to want to determine whether or not he was actually sympathetic to her plight or just eager to get this over with, what empathy he had retained from his old life sparked back to life and he placed a strong hand on the top of her head. He started weighing the pros and cons….. and figuring out that there weren’t a whole lot of pros. Baby steps. He pet the top of her head gently. “Okay.” He said softly. He wanted to add some levity again but he left his response as it was and simply stood there, steadfast for her to cry herself out.

Frankie felt like her whole mind was spiraling without control, flashing images of Layla and her watching bad movies in her bed with their legs tangled together, her grandmother teaching her the importance of meaning behind the different colors surrounding a person, her mother softly caressing her hair when life became too hard one day to another. It felt like years had passed, her whole life changing in a matter of hours. She’d struggled, she was still struggling, and even though she took pride in being a smart, strong woman, it took times like this to remember she was still only a kid. The feeling of Graham’s hand trying to comfort her mixed with his soft answer took more muffled crying from her, and it took several minutes for her to calm down. Eventually, her shoulders were no longer shaking and her fists weren’t clenched on his shirt, but instead cradled against her own chest as she took a few steps back from him, puffy eyes and rosy cheeks from her sudden outburst. Her breathing was still irregular, but at least she felt a little better. “I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to do that.” And like that, she let herself drop back on the couch. “My- My grandma told me stories when I was a kid and I never thought they’d be real, about werewolves and fairies and vampires, and now Layla just throws this bomb at me and I left my home to find her and I don’t--” She stopped to take a deep breath, wiping her face with both her hands in frustration, but also to wipe the tears that were still there. “I don’t even care if it’s real or not, I just need to find her.” All things considered, Graham thought he was treating this situation like a boss. He waited patiently until she pulled away from him in which he removed his hand from her head. the sudden separation of her body heat from him almost prompting a sigh but he kept it under wraps. He examined the tears on his shirt briefly - bigger fish to fry, don’t worry about it - and he offered the box of tissues again. “Yeah, it can be a little… jarring,” He agreed, sitting on the arm of the couch lightly. “You said she sent you that message, what, two days ago? The likelihood of her still being here is pretty good,” He said before his expression shifted. “But I’ll be honest with you - werewolves aren’t nice creatures to fuck around with. Have you figured out what you’re gonna do after you find her?”

“I hope you’re right.” She mumbled, sinking even more on the couch. His question made Frankie’s mouth hung open for a few seconds as she thought, before she clenched her teeth, a frustrated groan leaving her as she burrowed her face in her hands. There were just too many things going on through her head and Graham, though blessed for not kicking her out the second she opened her mouth, wasn’t helping. Honestly, Frankie hadn’t thought that far ahead and had hoped that things would sort out on their own once they happened. She could worry about what she would tell Layla after and if she found her. But his previous statement floated around her head, and she turned her face towards him, one eye peeping from between her fingers. “How… How do you know so much about werewolves? And why aren’t you freaking out?” And she put her face in her hands again. Graham felt his eyebrows do a dance on his forehead as they went from raised in worry to half-quirked with some other emotion. He guessed he didn’t say the right thing but he felt it was important to at least think about future plans before jumping in even deeper. The look carried through into his mulling over her question when she asked between her fingers. She was being honest so far but would she believe him? He was far less concerned with her leaving if she didn’t like what or how he was but given that she dropped everything to come running to her werewolf girlfriend, he decided to go out on a limb and he started to rub his hands together absently, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ve been told a lot of things and I’ve done a lot of reading,” He replied honestly. “As I’m sure you’ve been able to figure out, this town is hella weird. I dunno what all was in those stories your grandma told you but at least half of it is probably true.” He explained. “This is the part where I should probably tell you that I’m a vampire.” Well, there it was. He didn’t adjust his form at all as he spoke, wondering how the girl was going to react to that information.

Her mouth formed a perfect circle, her hands slowly sliding down her face to her lap. Her face felt weird because of the dried tears and her eyes still stinging with a burning sensation, but it didn’t quite matter when he had dropped yet another bomb. The Frankie from six months ago would’ve laughed in his face, grabbed her stuff and walked out of the apartment without a second doubt, but after everything that had happened in her life, and after Graham so easily believing what she was saying, it would be hypocritical of her. A small voice told her than, maybe, he was messing with her and joking after the werewolf bit, but the feeling of his cold hands and hard body was still lingering in her skin. A vampire. Unconsciously, her body shifted slightly away from him. Vampires were… bad, right? At least most movies portrayed them like that. Then again there was Twilight where vampires were good--- Oh, What if he was like Bella? And that was why she couldn’t see his aura? “Um. I’m- You won’t drink my blood if I live here, right? I mean I guess I could--- maybe-- if it doesn’t hurt too much but it would be just super weird and-- ” “Oh no no, that’s not my intention,” Graham replied quickly, keeping his blue eyes on her steadily and noticing her subtle body language, distancing herself from him as he expected; good, she had some form of self-preservation. “You’re a little young and…” He did actually consider withholding the following information but decided to go all the way since they were already there. “The sight and smell of blood makes me… nauseous. Freaks me out.” He DID decide not to add the part where he would’ve said ‘I might kill you’ - there was a line so he decided to hide it behind the good ol’ hematophobia. “I don’t feed in front of other, uh… people.” He wasn’t lying about this part; he already dropped the ball with the whole ‘vampire’ bit. “UNLESS-- unless… well, no. I still don’t plan on it.” He shrugged. “If your girlfriend is over and she wolfs out, then all bets are off.” He felt the need to specify. “I draw the line at being attacked in my own apartment.” He gave her a clever smile. “BUT that being said, you’re off my menu. Just… warn me if you’re planning on getting blood anywhere.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Any more questions so far?”

“How often do you feed?” The question was out of Frankie’s mouth before she even noticed what she was doing, her lips pressing together to keep her from spilling any more blabbering or stupid questions. Honestly, at this point she had no idea what she was anxious about, but she couldn’t seem to find the off button. “Sorry. Uhm. Don’t answer that. I’m sorry your only food source makes you sick.” She remained quiet for a moment, thinking. “What does wolfing out mean? Do werewolves turn into actual wolves? I thought they just… grew more hair and… I don’t know, got claws and stuff? And Is the alpha beta thing an actual thing? And-- do they have, like, insane senses? Can they turn them off?” She stopped to take a deep breath, suddenly standing up to face him better. “Sorry. We can, uhm, I guess you can fill me out on the wolf department later. I-- I kinda need to come clean about something too.” Her mouth was like a faucet the way she just spilled question after question but Graham kept in mind every one of them until she finished with a taper and she realised that she was unloading her curiosity onto him. He didn’t necessarily mind but that was what he HAD in mind when he asked about questions. He found it curious for a moment that she was inherently more interested in the ‘wolf’ part than the ‘vampire’ part but that was to be expected - she WAS the girlfriend of a werewolf, after all. “How ‘bout this, then - I’ll answer your veritable onslaught once you tell me what’s on your mind.” He compromised, looking at her patiently.

Frankie was silently thankful of how calm Graham was, taking each outburst better than the last. She licked her lips as she figured out the best way of telling him, as it was the first time she ever confessed her gift to someone outside her family. “Okay so---” Her left hand reached forward to him, not touching him but rather lingering a few inches away, tracing where his aura would be if he had one. “-- there’s absolutely nothing here. You have no aura. And I kinda think it’s because you’re, uhm, dead, but I can’t really tell because I’ve only dealt with people before?” Blabbering. She was blabbering again. Another deep breath, her hand dropping, fingers toying with each other. “What I mean is --- I can see auras. And they’re annoying for the most part because they’re super bright sometimes. So it’s nice that you don’t have one.” “Ah, you’re an aura reader,” Graham replied casually, lying through his teeth - he honestly didn’t know that aura readers were a thing but she didn’t need to know that. He didn’t find it surprising that she could read auras though he did find himself slightly surprised at his own lack of aura… he didn’t have one? He was undead but he was still a-- well, maybe he didn’t qualify as a person anymore. That thought made him… “Well! Happy to help; I can imagine how annoying that could be.” He painted over his brief expression with a smile. “Guess it works out in our favour.” He said, reaching forward with a finger and poking her palm gently, feeling her heat against his skin. “Okay, my turn.” He cleared his throat, going back to rubbing his hands together. “I try to only feed once or twice a week. I call when werewolves involuntarily transform ‘wolfing out’. Like someone ‘freaking out’ but with a wolf,” He looked up as he recalled the questions in order. “Only werewolves who have achieved some sort of equilibrium turn into actual wolves, to my knowledge. Most of the time, they take on quadrupedal beasts with wolf features. Alphas and such are mostly a myth but I THINK the wolves that were born with it prefer running in packs. The “alpha” thing isn’t much more of a thing to werewolves than humans who want leaders. Annnnnd… They have enhanced senses that get stronger nearer to the full moon.” He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t miss any questions, did I?”

His reaction made Frankie smile in relief. Oh, thank God he knew what she was on about, because she didn’t have the slightest idea on how to explain how, less alone why she could see auras, and in all honesty, even if she knew how, she didn’t want to do it either. Her eyes looked down to his finger poking her fidgeting hands, and because she was a curious teen, she reached forward to take his hands in hers, the cold touch completely foreign to her but, now that she knew what to expect, it didn’t bother her. For the first time since she had entered the room, she remained quiet, letting him speak, her fingers playing with his and letting her warmth conquer his tundra. It was amazing how Graham could recall every single question she had asked, even the ones she didn’t even remember saying. Even after he had stopped talking, she remained silent. It was way too much information, and by the way her brows were furrowed, she was clearly struggling to process everything. “I need to write this down somewhere before I forget.” And like that, she let go of his hands, a sigh escaping her. “Thank you. For, like, everything, not just the not having an aura and.. answering my shi--- stuff.” Was she allowed to swear? “Uhm, I promise I’m not always a mess ...? Maybe sometimes--- but you won’t regret taking me in.” The space between them was quiet for a moment following his string of answers as Graham felt her fingers touching his hand, almost childlike in their curiosity. He had to admit that the warmth was one of the things he missed the most and he got another brief memory before it faded back out and he saw the look on her face - maybe he answered too many of her questions at once. She was a teenage human and this was a lot to take in. He chuckled when she censored herself and shook his head. “I can write everything down for you and you can curse - you’re a grown-ass adult who can make her own decisions.” He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re here, after all.” He pulled to his feet from sitting on the arm of the couch. “Just take a few days to get settled in, just relax. One step at a time.” He pulled the front of his shirt away from his chest to keep it from sticking subconsciously. “C’mon, lemme show you around. You can have the guest bathroom - keep it clean,” He motioned for her to gather her things and follow her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

#p: New Beginnings #p: graham #❪ ⋅ ⋆ —— ❛ para ❜ ❫

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notchainedtotrauma · 4 years

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scream at you calling ur inbox a dry pussy ... here's two questions in one! firstable ... your blog is very artsy and im OBSESSED with the lil bits of poetry/media u send me; i wonder if you have a favorite poet? also! what books are you reading during the quarantine

You’re going to get a whole essay, I’m warning you. I have many favorite poets. All of them are Black, most of them (as in 98,8%) are women, and they’re all too fucking talented for this world.

A poet whose work I absolutely adore though is Black lesbian feminist independent scholar and self proclaimed love evangelist Alexis Pauline Gumbs @blackfeminismlives (yes, she is on Tumblr). She released a trilogy of books (Spill: Scenes Of Black Feminist Fugitivity/M Archive: After The End of The World/Dub: Finding Ceremony) who all have in common this one thing: the prose poems they contain are inspired by quotes from three brilliant Black feminist thinkers, all still alive. Those thinkers are Hortense Spillers, M. Jacqui Alexander, who like Ms Gumbs, is a Black lesbian from the Caribbean, and Sylvia Wynter (and also they’re all very much still alive and producing). Her prose poems are just gorgeous and M Archive: After The End of the World might interest you. The story is basically that a Black feminist scientist uncovered information about human lives well after an apocalyptic event. An excerpt:

we took off our leaden clothes and we skipped out of our concrete shoes and we went barefoot enough to bear the rubble we had created just before . . . we touched each other’s hands and found them warm and ridged with remembering. we traced the lines and found home again and again. home was like a pulse. home was where the hurt was. we lunged and pressed toward each other’s chests. we let longing lead past our labored lack. we held each other’s hands. they did not break.

I love Morgan Parker, and I wrote a whole biography, but you know what I’m just going to quote her:

This is from The Gospel Of Jesus’ Wife

“ I must be the B-sideClipped to the editing floorA gold road paved with meAnd Jesus said medium rareAnd I bowed quietly eternallyCleaned his cup on my apronand poured him his bloodIn this parable I am the gobletCrater of birth and serviceI leave no trace”

from the same poem:

“ I will be waiting in a doorframe until harvestUntil the sky is so clear I seemy lipstick reflecting in the olive treesTake the fever out of meCome in and rise again and again”

I also need to quote AND link Beyoncé On The Line For Gaga:

Girl you know you ain’t that busy.Without me you’re just two earsstuffed with glitter. Spoken gun your namebaby’s first words when she enters swag up covered ingunmetal spandex, cigarettes for eyes.Say my name, louder come into these hipsand live. Letplatform heels tightrope curves, make Jiggaman jealous.He runs the streetsI pour into them, weave firstfierce nymph of Texas holy in black.You feel me? This bootyis smooth running water.I shake too thick for love,push records like dimes,rep the hustle slick as legs.I know you like that. I carry the hood up in this bling.Soft brown fingersgot rocks for days. Lips glossed opening for a special purpose.You say Tell ‘em B I open my legs, throw my shades on like,Divas gettin money. Hard as the boys.Give me allyour little monsters and I will burn them up.Give me your handand I will let you back this up.Tonight I make a name for you.

(How subtly gay)

In terms of books I’m rereading Spill&M Archive (always), and I’m reading this gorgeous book (there are two versions, the academic one and the slightly poetic one I got the slightly poetic one) called Honeypot by E. Patrick Johnson who decided to go interview Black southern lesbian women and it’s just...It’s filled with stories of trauma but also stories of love and communal Black lesbian work and I love the chapter on Black lesbian spirituality. I also am re reading the lovely Dr. Eve L. Ewing (her first poetry book Electric Arches is just...chef’s kiss). She is also a sociologist who has a sociology book published. She is equally a comics book writer and she wrote amongst other things Ironheart (yes, about Riri Williams). I am hoping to get an actual copy of Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments by historian Saidiya Hartman and A Dirty South Manifesto by scholar and self professed superfreak L.H Stallings.

#fluoresensitive

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years

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Keep It Secret, 5

Summary: Ever since your soulmate told you to stop writing on your skin because they didn’t want to communicate, you did as they asked even though it hurt your heart. During the first day of your new job as an “emergency woman” on a film set, you forget your notepad and planner, so you have to write on your skin. When you’re then called to the makeup trailer to deal with an emergency, you meet Zendaya Coleman, with your supply list on her wrist. You vow to keep your status as her soulmate a secret, even if it hurts, because all you want is for her to be happy. Even if it’s to your detriment.

A/N: Y’all aren’t ready for this, and I could not wait much longer, so here it is! Honestly, I am SO HAPPY with how it ended up. Also, I know it kinda reads like the end, but it isn’t. I’m totally going to expand on this whole thing, maybe as a sequel thing or as a straight continuation. ANYWAY I hope you enjoy this!

Taglists are still open and so are requests for my 150 follower celebration!!!

Disclaimer: I do not know or claim to know Zendaya Coleman; I am essentially using her as a face/name claim to my fic idea. The same goes for the other people in this fic. That being said, I hope you like this!!!!!

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluffy fluff fluff, everyone has bad timing, like a lot of long dialogue wtf is wrong with me, lots of contact

Word Count: 2859

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban

KIS Taglist: @hailqueenconquer, @imaginerequestpage, @adventurousbooknerd

Chapter 5

“Right,” you bit your lip. “I was saying, well…”

“It’s okay,” Zendaya reassured you gently, as if sensing your nerves. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded and inhaled deeply. “We—”

“Hey, do you guys want some breakfast?” Jade asked as she popped her head out the door, looking straight at you.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Jade!” you exclaimed. “Back fucking timing, man!”

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologized quickly.

“And yes, I would love some pancakes!” you said in the same tone.

“I would as well,” Zendaya echoed.

“Okay, bye!” she chirped as she disappeared back into the house.

You sighed heavily and put your head in your hands. Here you were, about to finally bare your heart and soul to your soulmate, the soulmate that had told you they didn’t want anything to do with you, and fucking JADE was interrupting nonstop.

“Bad luck,” Zendaya muttered with amusement.

You sighed with more force and looked at her with an extremely exasperated face. “Yeah!” you agreed emphatically.

“Okay, don’t let it get to you,” she teased you. “Tell me.”

You nodded, taking some deep breaths to steel your nerves. For the first time in who knew how long, you were going to go with your heart and soul, not your mind.

It was terrifying.

“Zendaya, I… We’re…” you groaned in exasperation as the words wouldn’t leave your throat. You hung your head in defeat and decided to go about it in a more roundabout way. “I haven’t touched you, or let you touch me, because—”

Zendaya’s phone rang.

“Son of a bitch!” you swore, standing from the swing abruptly. You began to pace back and forth on the porch as Zendaya answered her phone.

“Hey, yeah, no, now is not a good time,” Zendaya was saying as you muttered curses while pacing. “No, this really is not a good time… I don’t give a fuck about what happened at your breakfast today, man, not right now… Yes, I’m with her right now. Yeah. Bye.”

You were stuck in that rut of swearing and pacing, running your hands through your hair as you practically wore through the stone of the porch.

A hand suddenly grabbed yours and you whirled around.

Zendaya was holding your hand in both of hers as you both felt like you were set on fire. It wasn’t a bad fire; in fact, it was warm and soft, like candlelight flickering over your bodies. All sorts of things went through your head as everything tingled and warmed and somehow buzzed at the same time.

Your soulmate’s jaw dropped. “We’re… soulmates?”

You felt a stab of fear in your chest, one that wasn’t yours, and you snatched your hand from hers, taking a few steps back and hitting the porch railing. Tears were starting to well in your eyes and you folded your arms over your stomach.

“I-I, I’m so sorry, I, I tried to keep it a secret, I knew that you didn’t want anything to do with your soulmate, with me as a soulmate, and I tried, I’m sorry—”

Zendaya was suddenly up and pressing her body against yours. Her hands came up to cradle your cheeks and before you knew it, her lips were pressed against yours.

You didn’t really know what to do. You hadn’t really kissed anyone before, not like this; it was always cheek kisses, or forehead kisses, since you were an affectionate person with your friends, or even occasionally your acting classes. A kiss like this was something you never thought you’d experience.

After several heartbeats of frozen panic, you let yourself melt into your soulmate and close your eyes. Zendaya pressed closer to you, moving one hand to cup the back of your neck. Still a bit unsure, you let your hands rest on her waist. When you finally felt a little more comfortable, and when she gently nibbled on your bottom lip, you pulled Zendaya even closer to you. A hum vibrated in your throat when Zendaya ran her thumb across your cheek.

Zendaya pulled away when both of you got short on air. She pressed her forehead to yours and you both tried to calm your breathing.

“Fuck,” she whispered, “it all makes sense now.”

You opened your eyes to see that hers were still closed. She looked… calm, at ease. You smiled gently to yourself, happy to see her so relaxed. Then, Zendaya opened her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a whisper.

“I was afraid,” you murmured. Zendaya pulled back slightly and rubbed her thumbs across your cheekbones, making warmth flood your body. That worry was still there, though.

“Why?” her tone was tender and made your heart swell.

It seemed completely natural to take one of her hands in yours and lace your fingers together. She stepped back and sat on the porch swing; when you sat with a bit of space between you, not wanting to crowd her, she frowned and tugged you closer. Zendaya even went so far as to put her legs over yours and her arm on your shoulder. She leaned her head on her arm and watched your face closely.

All that touching made you realize how utterly touch starved you had been living your life. You felt like crying, almost, with how comforted the cuddling made you feel. You didn’t know that life could feel this comfortable.

“C’mon,” she urged you gently, “I can feel what you can, remember? Tell me why you didn’t want to tell me. It was the list, wasn’t it, that made you realize?”

You swallowed nervously, and you felt someone else’s adoration course through your veins. “What was that?” you asked nervously.

“You’re just,” Zendaya suddenly pressed a kiss to your cheek, “you’re always so calm and put together at work, and while all your nerves and anxiety are worrying… you’re so cute, you know? And now I get to tell you that!”

You chuckled lightly and felt your heart skip a bit as she traced a bit on your cheek. “Okay, so,” you inhaled again, feeling the shake of your lungs, “so, years ago, I thought that I didn’t even have a soulmate, y’know? I wrote notes to myself, or I’d draw on my arms and stuff, and there was nothing from anyone else. I kinda just… accepted that I didn’t have a soulmate. And then,” you laughed humorlessly, “I still remember the day I got a note back.”

Zendaya sucked in a harsh breath at your pain, your remembered pain that would occasionally wake you up at night. “Y/N,” she whispered softly, regretfully.

“That day, I was devastated. It went from the joy of knowing that I do have a soulmate, to the harsh pain that my soulmate didn’t want anything to do with me.” You worried your lip with your teeth and felt ready to carry on after Zendaya stroked your cheek gently. “I managed to, not get over it, but put it in a little spot in my brain that allowed me to focus on the rest of my life. I put it away, didn’t focus on it. The pain of it all would make me wake up at night, you know? I’d dream about it.”

“It’s okay,” Zendaya said as you hesitated, your throat tight. “Take your time.”

After a few more moments, you began again. “I’d dream about it and wake up in the middle of the night with this pain in my chest. But I’d calm down and go back to sleep, because I knew that it was what my soulmate wanted. All I wanted was for my soulmate to be happy, to not be inconvenienced by me.

“I went through college, just doing my best, throwing myself into my studies like I always did. I interned, had all sorts of jobs, graduated with this wonderful job set up. And then, my first day on set, things went a bit sideways, because my alarm wasn’t set at the right time. I somehow left everything I needed at the house. There were no note pads at work, nothing. So, I had to write what I needed on my arm.” You had started to zone out, remembering all the emotions you had with vivid clarity.

“I went to the next spot I was needed, and I saw you. I’ve always admired you,” you admitted a bit shyly, “but I managed to keep my cool. Then I saw the problem, and your reaction to what happened. You were irritated, visibly, and worried that your livelihood would be jeopardized. I don’t know how I managed it, but I didn’t break, I didn’t freak out, instead I left the trailer and scrubbed it off my arm. I went on with the rest of the day.

“Anytime I saw you, all I wanted,” your voice broke slightly, “all I wanted was to hold your hand and be with you. And you, you were so nice, you called me gorgeous and a queen, and said you wanted to get to know me.”

“Because you are gorgeous,” Zendaya interrupted you softly.

You shook your head with a small laugh. “I made this mantra in my head, to keep myself from telling you. I’d repeat, ‘it’s what she wants’ over and over again. Because I knew, I knew that you didn’t want me, not as a soulmate. The first few days were so hard; I was battling my soul that begged me to tell you, and my brain that told me you wanted nothing to do with a soulmate, and my heart that wanted you to be happy even at my own expense. It was rough.

“Every day was just this aching sort of pain. I wanted to be around you, and the fact that you wanted to be around me, made it even worse. I kept that mantra, all day, all the time. I put this painful distance between us. Every inch was torture for me, because I knew what we are, and you didn’t, you couldn’t. I’ve had that mantra ever since then, and I’ve planned on keeping it forever. Because all I want is for you to be happy,” you breathed out the last part, now realizing that there were a few hot tears down your cheeks.

Zendaya’s heart seemed to be pounding, or was it yours?

“I’m so sorry,” she finally said, and you looked at her. There were tears pooling in her eyes and you immediately went into a panic.

“Oh, no, Zendaya, I’m so sorry, you shouldn’t be sorry, I’m—”

“No, I should be,” she interrupted with a no-nonsense edge to her voice. “I wrote that to you with no explanation, no follow up. I remember writing that message; I was doing makeup for a shoot, and they were having so many issues with covering that writing, that I finally snapped. I wrote that so angrily, full of so much disdain that my soulmate was causing me. I didn’t even consider that my soulmate could think that they didn’t have a soulmate.

“I should have. That was selfish of me, to not consider my other half’s feelings because I was so frustrated. I had been irritated about the writing before, but this time, I was done. I should have considered what you were feeling, especially because you’re my soulmate. That was incredibly selfish of me, and I’m sorry.

“I can’t change what I did,” she continued, seeming to be resolved. “I can’t take away that pain you felt. And God, Y/N, feeling that pain? How did you live with it?”

You blew breath out of your nose as you thought. “I just told myself that you didn’t want me, that there was nothing I could do about it, and that I couldn’t just wallow about in my pain. I dealt with it when it popped up, and then I pushed it away. It was all I could do to live my life.”

“You thought that I didn’t want my soulmate,” Zendaya began.

“I still think that,” you admittedly quietly, almost shrinking into yourself.

“Oh, Y/N,” you felt her heartbreak at that sentence and immediately regretted saying it. “It’s not that at all. I should have followed through with an explanation, but I didn’t. I can’t change that. But I can tell you the truth, the reality.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Zendaya,” you interrupted again. You looked at your hands, folded on top of her legs in your lap.

“I do,” she insisted. “No more interrupting, okay?” You nodded. “Good. It’s never been that I don’t want my soulmate. I do, I so desperately want my soulmate. But… being an actress, in such an appearance heavy field, covering those messages is so hard. As a kid, I was terrified of inconveniencing people on set. Seeing those makeup artists work so hard wracked me with anxiety. That’s why I snapped, because the worry got too much. But I want my soulmate, I do. I just wanted things to be easier without communicating. And they were.

“This were a bit duller, though,” she continued. “I felt a bit… lonely? There was always a sort of… ache in my chest. Just a hole. It was easy to ignore, to fill with friendships and work. When I met you, though,” Zendaya smiled and took one of your fiddling hands, “as soon as I saw you leaving that trailer, that hole was poof! Gone, away in the wind, as if it had never been there. I wanted to get to know you, to laugh with you. For some reason, I remember all I wanted to see that day was your smile.

“When I saw you walking that night, all I could think was that it was my chance. You were so cute, so nervous around me in a way that people generally aren’t. Like, not in a starstruck way. The first time you genuinely grinned at me, I felt my entire body relax. All I wanted was to be closer with you, and I couldn’t explain it. You already know about the touching thing and about how confused I’ve been by this infatuation spell you’ve put on me, and now I know why you were like that with the touching, and why you’re so captivating.

“I was afraid right after we touched because I remembered what I’d written all those years ago. I hurt you, so pointedly. I’m so guilty that I hurt such a wonderful, sweet, clever, amazing person, all because I refused to do any sort of explanation or follow up. My life was easier, and I considered that to be a win. But it was an empty win.

“Y/N, all I want now, is to be with you, to talk to you, to tell you what you mean to me. Because you mean so much already. You’ve genuinely been my last thought before I fall asleep for the past few weeks. Not my first thought when I wake up, because my first thought is always, ‘what the fuck time is it’, but nothing can stop that.”

You chuckled lightly, and she tilted your head towards her. You could see her sincerity, could feel her seriousness, in the depths of her eyes.

“Let me be with you,” she urged. “Please. I want to be with you, and I know you want that too. Let’s be together, as girlfriends, as soulmates. Let’s go on dates, and text, and write on our skin after hours and when I’m not filming. Let’s go through all the normal things we always would, but together, with the other. Let’s just be us, together, as us!”

You didn’t realize you were crying until she rubbed a tear from your cheek. Your chest was tight in the best of ways; your emotions were just soaring into the clouds. You were elated in ways you never had been. The happiness coursing through your veins and pounding in your heart was the most amazing feeling in the world.

“What do you say?” Zendaya prompted with a grin, because she knew the answer.

“Yes,” you breathed out, a relieved laugh leaving your body. “Let’s do it.”

Zendaya let out a whoop of excitement and basically threw herself onto you. It was difficult, of course, because she was already halfway on top of you. The woman was bursting with happy emotions and she peppered kisses onto your face. All her movements were making the swing move sporadically, and you were both laughing loudly.

“Is everything good?” Jade’s voice asked from the door.

Zendaya leaned back, the smile on her face infectious. “It’s great!” she chirped.

“Good!” Jade grinned. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

Zendaya managed to clamber off of you, but she held her hand out for you. You took it and felt the burst of happiness run from your heart, through your arm, to her hand, and up to her own heart.

You didn’t know what would come next, but you were with Zendaya. She was ready and willing to go through any problem as a team. You were truly prepared for anything now.

#zendaya x plus size reader #zendaya x reader #zendaya coleman x plus size reader #zendaya coleman x reader #keep it secret fic #reader insert #plus size reader #please let me know what you think since i am desperate for validation

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docholligay · 4 years

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All Ears

I wrote this “going through a box of childhood items” at I think it was @keyofjetwolf‘s suggestion but now I can’t remember anyway it is deeply self indulgent listen Fluff is really hard for me. 1600 words, the rest of the my OW universe is here.

Tracer had brought over the boxes to Winston’s slowly developing house, a former warehouse on the edges of what was still a commercial and shipping district. He was making it warm, slowly, as he had money here and there, but money was hard to come by in these days, as good as he was at repairing cell phones and laptops and other such things as the work came by. He’d thrown the money he had into making a room for Tracer, when she’d been recovering.Her family had helped him where they could, of course, but none of the Oxton clan could be accused of being secret millionaires, and so the bulk of his house still had a rather cool air to it.

It felt more so, now that Tracer was no longer living there, but it made him feel ashamed to say it. It wasn’t fair to Tracer that he had so little in the way of connection, and that he relied on her so much. It was silly, really. He had been protecting her, when he told her she didn’t have to work, that she could stay with him as long as she wanted to, that he was worried about her. But he had also been protecting himself, he knew, and his great fear of loneliness.

But Tracer had gotten tired of sitting at home, eventually, and managed to talk her way into a job at a little suit shop selling men’s and boy’s fine suiting and accessories, and her boss was even quite impressed with her sales, given as he’d never thought of courting the lesbian market. Tracer had a way of making people feel optimistic and bright, simply by her own sunshine, and optimistic brightness led people to buy extra ties and shoes.

Eventually, she had done well enough to move back into her little house, and finally resolve to clear out the bedrooms and make the master hers.

It had been awkward for her, in those brief years after she had come back the first time. She had come home, and her father had been dead, and she had found herself unwilling and unable to clear out what had been his bedroom her entire life, never mind that hers was so much tinier. She was away from home often with Overwatch, anyhow, and it had been a convenient excuse until Overwatch had been forcibly disbanded, and she found herself as much a regular Londoner as she’d ever be.

So, it was time to take over the master.

Winston thought this project might be met with grief and sorrow, but he had forgotten Tracer’s natural sense of cheer, and how she could simply roll all of this forward with every other major adjustment she had made in the last year. She had decided not only to clear out the master, but to reorganize the entire place to be more a house that was hers, instead of a house she and her father had shared for twenty-six years, and she had done all this with a sense of embracing the new rather than mourning the old.

But she did like bringing boxes over to Winston’s when she found them in a closet or the tiny, dank cellar, as if it gave her some pleasure to have someone to relay the memories to while deciding how to proceed. Winston liked it, because he liked to spend time with her, whatever the reason, but there was something he particularly loved about imagining the little girl she might have been.

And so today, sitting on his couch with a box between them, simply marked “Lena” in what Winston had come to know as her father’s handwriting, was a pleasant enough day indeed.

Tracer dug through the box. Most of it had been fairly unremarkable. There were a few worn sweaters she had clearly loved--Tracer had laughed when they got to the light blue one with a yellow plane on it, and told Winston how her dad had to hide it from her as it became a crop top--and some old drawings, a few stuffed animals that were not Biscuit and so didn’t matter. They’d chuckled and sipped on a few beers as they’d gone through it, but she broke into a bright smile when she took out a pair of Mickey ears, her name embroidered in looping font on the back of them.

“I ever tell you about the time me parents surprised me? Took me to Disneyland in Paris?” She was asking the question, but it required no answer, in the way she often asked a question more of herself than anyone else, and so Winston merely shook his head, “I’s four years old, and Mum and Dad told me we was going to the zoo. I loved the zoo, went a few times a month, Mum would pack us an ‘amper, off we’d go. We was walking to the tube when me Mum drew these out of ‘er bag and told me we was going to Disneyland. We was going to ‘ave tea with Alice, even.”

Winston took a sip and smiled, imagining her vibrating with joy, grinning so hard she might hurt herself. “What did you say?”

Tracer giggled and leaned toward him as if telling a secret. “Burst into hysterical tears immediately.”

“What?” He gave a low chuckle.

“Right then, wasn’t quite as emotionally self-sufficient as I am now.” She laughed again. “Just too excited, too much surprise for me to ‘andle in that moment. Poor Mum. Dad picked me up, asked me what ‘ad gone wrong, and I sobbed out,” she laughed again,”DADDY, I LOVE ALICE SO MUCH.’ ‘e tried to keep a straight face, but me Mum started just creasing up, she did.”

Winston looked at the tiny ears and smiled. “I’m sure you got over it.”

“Oh, we ‘ad a bloody brilliant time, once I’d calmed down a bit. ‘Ad the whole train ride to Paris, mind, and ‘ad a biscuit or two, so, came out all right.” She pulled out a plastic cup that read ‘Alice’s Tea Party’ and looked at, smiling softly, “They’d just found out Mum was sick, wanted to take me before she ‘ad treatment. Glad they did.”

Winston placed his hand on her back, but she sat up straight and grinned. “Was when they figured I’d be just brilliant as a fighter pilot, given me total lack of fear on any ride I was big enough for. Loved the thrill best of all.”

He wanted to share something with her. He envied the way that she had these things, that she could share so much of herself with him. He loved to think of her as an excited little girl who got to meet Alice, to see her carefully drawing a scene from Wind in the Willows for her mother, to imagine her father secreting away that patched and stained and too-small sweater.

Winston had none of this. He had narrowly escaped the colony with his own life, much less any mementos, and at least that made the conversation easy. He never had to explain that there would have been few to take. Winston was a test subject, and while he believed Dr. Harold had loved him, there were no surprise trips to Disneyland, or regular trips to the zoo, or even any clothes outside of what was given to all the subjects. He had learned math and science, not how to draw badgers or toads. And so he had nothing to give Tracer but what he was now, nothing to communicate how deeply he felt about her and how much he wanted to share with her.

Tracer set the ears to the side, deciding that they were the one thing she would keep from the box, and stuffed the rest back into it. She tilted her head at Winston, studying him, her eyes darting around as she had a thought.

“Win, ‘ave you ever been to Disneyland? Paris’s only a few hours away, bet we can find a place to stay, too, right?” Winston realized with a mix of nervousness and love that this was one of those times she was asking a question to herself only.

“Lena…”

She leapt to her feet. “Right! Win, I ‘aven’t been in years, and you’ve never!” She stood up straight and patted his shoulder. “So I get to be the one to show you. I wonder if they do Alice’s tea sti--no, wait, what would you like, Win? The very least, they still ‘ave a Mickey breakfast.”

Winston shifted, biting his lip. “I didn’t really ever do childhood things.”

She jumped up next to him on the couch and hugged him as tightly as she could. “So you’ll them with me.”

“I--”

He wanted to go with her. He wanted to go, and he knew if anyone could make it a reality, it was Tracer. But he thought of the park, and of the children, and how they might cower against their parents as he walked by, and a grey sadness came over him.

Tracer jumped over his lap and knelt in front of him, looking up into his face. “What is it? You love it when we do thing together.”

“I don’t want the kids to be afraid.”

He said it softly, afraid if he put any strength behind it, that deep fear and sadness might be exposed, a fresh scab pulled off the wound.

“Win,” She smiled and shook her head, “if there is anywhere on earth, that kids will be expecting a big guy like you to be a friend, it’ll be Disneyland, right?”

He thought for a moment, considering her reasoning, considering her love, considering her fierce will, and smiled, hugging her tight.

“Right.”

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