#nessies10kchallenge

[pxssygxblin]

The Hero We Needed

(Y/N) sighed, tucking her phone back into her purse. She couldn’t believe she’d been stood up, especially after Wanda had so insisted that this date wasn’t a prank or to humiliate her.

Wanda Maximoff was one of the most well known girls at their school, incredibly popular and absolutely brilliant. So it came as a shock when Wanda had asked her out.

She shivered, and started the walk back home. She hadn’t realized quite how cold it was going to get before she left, but now she definitely wished she had brought a coat with her.

(Y/N) startled when a clattering of a trash can came from behind her. She whirled around, eyes wide and ready to run if need be. She relaxed a fraction at seeing who it was, “scarlet witch?” She exclaimed, confused, as to why she would be here.

Wanda hesitated, “uh, hey, I just, well, I noticed you seemed cold, so here,” she said, holding out her hoodie.

(Y/n) furrowed her brows, “thank you, but how am I supposed to get this back to you?” She asked, taking the coat, and slipping it around her shoulders, taking a moment to appreciate the warmth. The hoodie had a certain smell to it, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

Wanda offered her a smile, “well, why don’t I walk you home? That way I can make sure you got home safe,” she offered. She glanced down at (y/n)’s hands, “your hands look awfully cold too, why don’t I help you with that too,” she said, grinning at her as she reached out and linked their fingers together lightly. “Why are you walking home alone so late anyways?”

(Y/n) threw her head back with laughter at the attempt to flirt, it felt nice especially after the night she’d had. She sighed, “I was supposed to be going out with this girl from my school tonight, Wanda, but I guess she ditched me,” she said. “It sucks, I’ve always really liked her but I think it was just a joke for her,” she muttered.

Wanda’s eyes widened, “oh well I’m sure she has her reasons for not showing up,” she exclaimed. “But are you sure that she stood you up? Maybe she thought it was on Friday?”

(Y/n) arched an eyebrow, “it is Friday.”

Wanda cursed, “are you sure?” She asked. She didn’t realize how far they had walked until (y/n) came to a stop in front of an apartment building.

(Y/n) offered her one last smile, “thanks again, you’re my hero,” she said, teasing lightly, taking off the jacket and handing it back to the other woman.

Wanda hesitated, “(y/n), wait,” she called, reaching out and grabbing her arm.

(Y/n) turned back, a slight frown crossing her face, “how do you know my name?” She asked.

Wanda sighed, “okay, don’t freak out,” she said, reaching up, and after a moment of hesitation, slid her mask off her face.

“I’m so sorry that I missed our date! It’s just, I thought it was Thursday, honestly, I got distracted and completely forgot and I-“

(Y/n) cut Wanda off by stepping forward, cupping her face gently, and pressing her lips to Wanda’s. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re absolutely adorable when you ramble?” She asked softly.

Wanda laughed lightly, and rubbed the back of her neck, “well uh, no,” she said, smiling, she was in shock, she certainly hadn’t expected to tell (y/n) who she was, much less for anything else to happen. “How about I take you out this weekend, for real this time?” She said.

(Y/n) nodded, “I’d like that.”

@lesbiansassemble

[asermann]

One Week

For @lesbiansassemble ‘s writing challenge

Pairing: MJ/Shuri Characters: MJ, Shuri, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Tony Stark Words: 6355 Warnings: None Prompt: “Are you from around here?”

As MJ approached the laboratory, she heard a jumble of voices growing increasingly louder.

“Why stop there? Why not add some AI?” MJ instantly recognized the voice of Tony Stark. She had become a regular visitor of Stark tower now that Peter spent so much of his time here, but she had never seen the billionaire in person. Not that she was impressed.

“I understand your wish to use your own technology, however, I believe you are forgetting the purpose. We are building an outreach center specifically for young people after all. I don’t believe they will have much use of your AI. We should be focusing on more necessary software.” Although MJ didn’t recognize the slightly accented voice, she gathered that it belonged to a young woman.

“What, you don’t think these kids could use a helpful assistant? AI is useful to anyone, tell her, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“That’s right. Artificial intelligence such as myself has several useful household applications, including—”

“I’m not saying AI isn’t useful, I’m saying perhaps we should focus on more pressing matters,” the girl replied. MJ wondered who she was. Anyone who could sound so cool while matching Tony Stark’s knowledge of technology must be a remarkable person.

“Um, I know I’m not really part of this conversation—” That voice she recognized. MJ cringed a little then. She hoped Peter wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of Tony Stark and a stranger who was presumably also a genius. “—but if I were a kid—”

“You are a kid, but go on,” Stark added.

“—I would think having an AI assistant was pretty awesome.”

“See? That’s three against one.” Stark sounded a little smug.

“Did you read my report?” The girl didn’t wait for Stark to reply. “Then you must know the designs for the center are still in the initial stage. We have more important matters to attend to before we start working on details such as AI assistants.”

“See, that’s where I disagree. I think your designs are already pretty advanced. Hell, you mentioned tech light-years ahead of the stuff I’m working on now.” Peter made a noise, as if intending to interrupt. “Yeah, kid, I know light-years is a measurement of distance. Loosen up, it’s a figure of speech. Anyway, point is, I don’t wanna make any changes to your design. It’s great. I’ll help out with the details, AI assistants, that sort of thing. I mean, it’s your building. Or is it your brother’s? Doesn’t matter. I’m saying it’s gonna be great. I’m just worried we’re actually spoiling these kids.”

“Uh, Mr Stark?” Peter asked.

“What, kid? You know I was kidding, right? About the spoiling?”

“Yeah, it’s just that I have to go now. I’m supposed to meet my friend MJ.”

“Alright, you’re dismissed.”

The door to the lab had only been opened a crack before Peter quickly closed it again. “Hey MJ, didn’t see you there.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to interrupt,” MJ said.

“Okay. Cool. I just have to change first. Um… hold on.” MJ could hear Peter moving around behind the door.

“Why can’t you just come out? And why do you need to change? You’re not, like, naked, are you?”

“What? No!” Peter said. Then he finally emerged from the lab. “I just have to… I’ll be back in a sec.” MJ just stared at Peter, who was walking quickly past her, pulling a too-big lab coat around him while wearing… red tights?

“I’ll just wait here,” MJ replied casually. Sure, Peter was acting weird, but she’d seen him act way weirder.

In his haste, Peter had left the door to the lab open. MJ peered inside. Despite the presence of fascinating, cutting edge technology—stuff MJ couldn’t even imagine the use for—her eyes fell immediately on the girl standing in the middle of the room. MJ quickly realized this must be the stranger connected to the accented voice. The stranger’s braided hair was twisted in an intricate bun, and she was wearing a white dress with tennis shoes. MJ couldn’t decide if she was a classy, professional young woman or a kid her own age. She definitely looked young. There was something about her smile and her way of speaking—not the words themselves, but the tone—that suggested she really was a teenager. MJ observed the strange girl with interest, trying to figure out who she might be.

The girl was standing over scattered papers, discussing something about computers with Tony Stark. The two of them spoke in low voices, although MJ probably could have understood what they were saying, had she been listening. MJ was, however, still staring at the girl, observing her movements and facial expressions, and letting her mind wander around the many possibilities of who this girl might be. Just then, the girl looked up. She smiled.

“You must be MJ,” she said kindly.

“Wait, you’re Michael Jackson?” Tony Stark briefly looked up from the documents spread out beneath him, seeming to assess MJ with one quick glance, before returning to his work.

“Yeah… I was just waiting for Peter. We’re supposed to work on this art project together.” MJ tried to sound casual, but standing here in a lab filled with robotics and geniuses she couldn’t help but feel dumb talking about some art project.

“That’s cool. Do you like art?” the girl asked, moving away from the table and walking toward MJ.

“I do, actually. I like to draw.”

“I wish I could draw, but the only thing I can draw is those dogs with the short noses.”

“You mean pugs?”

“Yes! They are so cute.” The girl spoke with eager enthusiasm, always smiling and waving her hands for emphasis. By now she was standing in front of MJ with her hand outstretched. “I’m Shuri.” MJ clasped her fingers around Shuri’s and shook.

“MJ.”

“So are you a Jackson fan or… No? Just curious,” Stark chimed in. Shuri rolled her eyes without turning around. She drew back her hand, and MJ couldn’t help but feel like Stark had ruined something. As his eyes darted between the two, maybe he got the same impression. “You know what,” he continued. “I think we’re done here for now. I’m gonna take a break, so you and Smooth Criminal over here can go watch cartoons, or smoke crack, or whatever kids are up to these days. See you tomorrow, princess,” he said, nodding at Shuri as he left the room.

“He’s…” MJ struggled to find the right word. “Eccentric.”

Shuri laughed. “Yes, he is.”

“Why exactly are you working with him?”

“Well, when he heard about my brother’s plans to set up an outreach center in California, he offered to help us set one up in New York.”

“So who’s your brother?”

“His name’s T’Challa. He’s…”

“... the king of Wakanda, the super high tech, super secret African utopia?”

“Yes.” MJ had trouble reading Shuri’s expression: something between amusement and pride.

“So you’re really a princess? And I thought Stark was just being a jerk.”

“No.” Shuri’s eyes fell on the documents still lying haphazardly on the table in the middle of the room. MJ thought she detected a passionate twinkle in the girl’s eye. The-girl-who-was-a-genius-and-a-teenager-and-also-a-princess. “In all seriousness, Stark is a good man. No one asked him to help with this project, but he offered anyway, out of the kindness of his heart I guess. And he’s spent a lot of time and resources on it… Still, I won’t correct you if you call him a jerk. Although I think he prefers ‘asshole’.”

MJ smiled at that. She regarded Shuri where she stood, one arm leaning against the wall and the other hanging easily by her side. MJ was just about say something clever in response to Shuri’s comment about Stark when Peter burst through the door.

“Hey, sorry for running out like that earlier. I just had to… change,” Peter apologized, trying to hide the fact that he was out of breath but not succeeding. “I just ran down like, ten flights of stairs.”

“There wasn’t an elevator?” MJ countered, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Peter seemed to consider this. “No, well yeah. But I…” He trailed off.

“Come on, nerd. We’re gonna have to hurry if we wanna hand in the project on time.”

“Right. The project. Yeah.” He seemed distracted.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah… I mean no! Nothing’s wrong, I was just thinking about the project and how we need to hurry up.”

“That’s what I said.”

Shuri, who had been following the exchange with raised eyebrows and that ever-present smile, decided to chime in. “Like I said before, I’m terrible at drawing, but if you need help with your project I’m sure there’s something I can do.”

“Really? Cause we do kinda need the help. Just as long as we’re not, you know, distracting you from your important work,” Peter said.

“Please. I’ve been working non-stop for the past week. I could really use a distraction. Besides, I’ve been so busy I haven’t even gotten to see New York.”

“I guess we can show you around after we’ve finished the project. If you want,” MJ said, a little too casually.

“That would be fantastic!”

✸✸✸

“This is taking forever,” Peter said, pouting and slumping against the couch.

“Come on. We have to keep going,” MJ replied. She reached for a tiny clay figurine and pushed it a millimeter towards another clay figurine. Then she reached for her phone, which was attached to a selfie stick, which was duct-taped to the couch in an attempt to keep it still. MJ took a picture. “There. See, we’re making progress.” She moved the clay another millimeter.

“I’m bored.”

“Seriously Peter? This whole thing is kinda your fault you know. The least you can do is help.”

“What? It wasn’t my idea to do a stop-motion video. That’s Ms. Shelley’s fault.”

“Yeah, well it’s your fault we’re so behind. If you weren't so busy with your internship all the time, maybe we wouldn’t have had to wait ‘til the last minute.”

“So you’re gonna blame me for everything?”

“You and Ned,” MJ muttered bitterly. “Where is Ned anyway? Isn’t he supposed to be here by now?”

“Yeah… He has been to your place before, right?” MJ shook her head in response. “Crap. I should go look for him. He’s probably lost.” Then Peter put on his jacket and left the apartment.

MJ turned to Shuri, who had been listening silently. Shuri looked tired, but peaceful. “Hey, does this look like a zombie to you?” she said, lifting the clay figure she had been working on to MJ’s gaze. It did look like a zombie, if you didn’t count the weird antlers sticking out of its head and the inexplicable purple patches in the otherwise green clay.

“It’s great,” MJ said with a smile, taking the clay figure carefully out of Shuri’s hand. She then proceeded to knock the ragtag team of Playdoh people, Barbie dolls and Transformers off the coffee table.

“Are you sure we don’t still need these?” Shuri said, picking up one of MJ’s near-lifelike recreations of Legolas from Lord of the Rings.

“Nope. We just have the last scene left. The one where the zombies take over the world.”

“What’s this story about again?”

“I really don’t know. It was all Peter’s and Ned’s idea. I’m starting to regret letting them do anything by themselves, ever.”

Shuri giggled. “But you enjoy it? Making art?”

“I wouldn’t call this art,” MJ answered, gesturing toward the crudely-made clay zombies strewn before them. It made Shuri laugh again, which made MJ smile. After that, neither of the two girls said anything for a while. “I mostly just draw people,” MJ offered suddenly.

“That’s cool. Maybe you could draw me,” Shuri said. Her eyes twinkled mischievously. Now it was MJ’s turn to laugh. “What? I’m serious! Draw me like one of your French girls.” MJ just shook her head at the cheesy reference to the world’s most overrated movie. However, she felt relieved that Shuri didn’t pursue that particular question. “Fine, I’ll just have to draw you something then,” she said instead. Shuri pulled a pen and a blank piece of paper toward her, and began to draw. MJ watched the princess where she sat on the floor, her legs folded beneath her. The businesslike impression MJ had gotten when meeting Shuri for the first time had now completely disappeared. She was still graceful, in her own way. MJ thought she was the only person who could pull off being elegant and playful at the same time.

“Finished,” Shuri said after a long but comfortable silence. When MJ looked up she realized how dark it had gotten. Dusk had come and gone, and the living room was now almost completely dark, save for the yellow light cast by a lamp in the corner. MJ shuffled closer to Shuri.

“It’s really cute,” MJ said softly. She looked over Shuri’s shoulder at the doodle. The bug-eyed pug on the paper seemed to stare at both of them at the same time. It was adorable.

Just then the front door flew open, followed by excited shrieks and laughter. Ned and Peter’s voices seemed impossibly loud in the calm, quiet apartment.

“So this is where you live! Hey, can I see your room? I asked Peter if you have any embarrassing baby pictures and he said no but I don’t buy it,” Ned declared as he dropped his backpack on the floor and shuffled through the hallway, stopping to scrutinize the framed photographs hanging on the wall. When he reached the living room, he stopped. He seemed to finally pick up on the rather tranquil atmosphere and lowered his voice. “Hi, I’m Ned,” he said, nodding at Shuri who was still seated on the floor.

“I’m Shuri. Nice to meet you.”

“Woah, did you guys make all this?” Ned asked as he sat down across from the two girls. He looked from the zombies on the coffee table, to the pile of toys on the floor, to the pug Shuri had drawn. MJ picked up the piece of paper and stashed it away on the couch behind her.

“Shuri and I did. Peter did not,” MJ said. Peter, who had sat down next to Ned, picked up on MJ’s lighthearted tone.

“Come on, I helped.” Both MJ and Shuri laughed. “I brought the dolls!”

“That you did,” MJ said while handing Barbie, Stacey and Ken back to Peter.

“So how much do we have left?” Ned asked.

“This is the last scene,” MJ replied.

“Wow. Sounds like you and Shuri were pretty productive.”

“Actually, MJ did most of the work,” Shuri chimed in.

“Come on, you helped a lot,” MJ countered.

“I just played with the clay. You did all the work.”

“You made all these zombies.”

“I hate to break it to you, but they’re not very good,” Shuri laughed and gestured at the so-ugly-they’re-cute zombies. “And,” she continued, “you made all the elves.” MJ smiled and turned to look at Shuri, who smiled back in response.

“Hey MJ, can I see your room now?” Ned said suddenly.

“Really? You just got here, and we have to finish—”

“I know, I know. Can’t you just show me really quick? I promise I’ll be cool after.”

MJ agreed, and led Ned to her bedroom. The room was small, simple and surprisingly neat. Ned went straight for the collection of old yearbooks in MJ’s bookshelf. As he was rifling through a book which contained a particularly embarrassing picture of MJ, Ned spoke casually. “So what’s up with you and Shuri?”

“What!” MJ sounded shocked. Ned looked up from the yearbook when he heard her harsh tone.

“You obviously like her.”

“No I don’t!” MJ didn’t like Shuri. She liked her as a friend. She thought she was nice and charming and funny. She liked that she was so chill but at the same time passionate about stuff. And she did think Shuri was really cute… Damn it, Ned.

From the look of his face, Ned seemed to have followed MJ’s thought process. He wiggled an eyebrow, then returned to rifling through the yearbook.

“Can you just, like, be cool?” MJ pleaded.

“I’m always cool. Unlike you in seventh grade.”

MJ grabbed the yearbook away from a giggling Ned. “I mean it.”

“I know, don’t worry. I have a plan.” Somehow this was worse.

“A plan? What does that even mean?”

“Don’t worry, I got you.” He was already on his way out the door.

“Ned,” MJ hissed.

“Trust me,” he replied, now in the hallway. MJ followed him.

“Hey guys, I’m really sorry, but I just found out that me and Peter have some super-secret science stuff to do. So we have to leave now,” Ned announced.

“Um, no we don’t.” Peter sounded alarmed. Ned shot him a look that seemed to say just go with it. “But what about the art project?” he asked, less tense and more confused.

“MJ and Shuri can finish it, right?” Ned replied.

“We’ve come this far without you, so yeah, I think we’ll manage.” MJ only pretended to be annoyed.

Ned quickly hustled Peter out of the apartment, to the tune of Peter’s confused mutterings and bitter protests. Once the door shut behind them, Shuri and MJ were left with that familiar, comfortable silence.

“So… That was weird,” Shuri said.

MJ barely got a chance to reply before her phone went off. She pried it off the selfie stick, only to find a text from Ned in the group chat.

Nerd #2: I think she bought it

MJ: Really Ned?? No one’s gonna believe you two have super secret science stuff to do

Nerd #2: Maybe we do

Nerd #1: No we don’t Ned!!!!!!

Nerd #2: Or do we?

After that, MJ’s phone was silent for a few seconds before receiving another text.

Nerd #1: Had to take Ned’s phone away bc he was being an idiot

Nerd #1: To be clear Ned and I do NOT have any super secret science stuff to do!!!!

Nerd #1: We just left so that you and Shuri could be alone together

Nerd #1: Have fun with your new girlfriend :)

Nerd #1: And pls don’t make me fail art

MJ was already stuffing her phone down the pocket of her jeans when she received Peter’s last text. She hated Peter for being so indiscreet, and she hated the way her face was growing hot.

“Don’t we still need your phone?” Shuri asked. She eyed MJ with curiosity, probably picking up on the other girl’s flustered manner but polite enough not to comment on it.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” MJ fished the cell phone out of her pocket, and turned off the notifications before reattaching it to the improvised camera stand.

MJ began to move some of the clay figures around on the coffee table. Shuri shifted her legs and moved closer to MJ in order to do the same. They worked together to create a landscape fit for the final scene of their stop-motion film. Occasionally Shuri would ask MJ if a certain figure should go in a certain place. MJ would nod or shake her head. She wanted to speak more, to just have a regular conversation, but found that she no longer knew what to say. Eventually Shuri decided to break the tension.

“Your friends are nice.”

“I guess.”

“They’re still weird of course. But I think their hearts are in the right place.”

MJ nodded. Shuri was right of course.

In the end, the two girls winded up talking about completely different things. Shuri told MJ all about Wakanda. She described the Golden City and explained the events that had led to the creation of the Wakandan International Outreach Centre. MJ was delighted to see Shuri’s YouTube videos in which she pranked T’Challa. Shuri then got to hear all about MJ’s high school experience, which Shuri found surprisingly entertaining. When MJ told the story of her trip to Washington D.C., Shuri sounded more interested in the Decathlon than the explosion at the Monument. At one point, the two of them even ended up looking at MJ’s old yearbook pictures. Shuri laughed hysterically. Luckily, her laughter was pretty contagious.

✸✸✸

MJ woke up to a patch of sunlight on her face and a cold breeze in the air. She moved to close the open window, only to find her legs tangled in a blanket.

She recalled the night before, how she and Shuri had talked for hours before the Wakandan princess had been forced to leave. MJ wondered if Shuri’s agreement to be shown around New York had been serious, or simply uttered out of politeness. She hoped for the former.

When MJ turned on her phone she was overwhelmed by a cascade of texts. Several of them had been sent in the Decathlon group chat. Several more were from Peter and Ned. Most of their texts were about Shuri, which she tried to ignore, but two messages stood out among the others.

Nerd #1: I know you’re kinda ignoring me rn but I just wanted to make sure you sent the video to Ms Shelley

Nerd #1: You did send it right??

It was 11:54 AM, six minutes before the deadline, and MJ had not sent in the art project. She reached for her laptop and searched for the edited version of the stop-motion video. Just as MJ was emailing the video, her phone buzzed. A Facetime call from Nerd #2. MJ realized speaking to both Ned and Peter was unavoidable. She answered the call.

“Hi Ned.”

“Hi MJ!” Ned’s face was way too close to the camera. He looked up at the sound of a muffled voice and flipped the camera to not-very-unexpectedly reveal Peter, who was sitting on his bed surrounded by chemistry books. “Peter’s here, by the way.”

“Yeah, I got that. Are you guys ever not together? Can you even, like, function without each other?”

“Nope,” Ned and Peter said in unison.

“God, you really are losers.”

“Don’t forget that you’re a loser too, now that you’re friends with us,” Ned replied.

“Don’t remind me.”

“So how did my plan work out?”

“Ask her if she sent in the art project,” Peter interjected.

MJ couldn’t be sure because Ned’s face still covered most of the screen, but he seemed to pick an object up from the floor and throw it at Peter, who was presumably still attempting to study. The throwing of the object was followed by a subdued “Owch, why would you throw Barbie at me?”

“No one cares about the stupid art project, Peter! I wanna hear all about MJ’s date with Shuri. Was it magical? Did you stare into each other's’ eyes?”

“Gross.”

“Is that a no?” Peter had snatched the phone away from his friend, holding it at a distance in order to capture both of their faces. MJ rolled her eyes.

“Just tell us something,” Ned said, sounding impatient.

“It was fine. Nice. Whatever.” MJ turned the camera away from her face, hiding that smile that always showed up whenever she thought of Shuri.

“‘Fine nice whatever’ isn’t good enough. We need details! Like did you kiss?” Ned asked.

“No!”

“Are you in love with her?”

“What? No, I’m not in love with her, I just like her!”

“You are so in love with her,” Peter said while MJ rolled her eyes. “I mean I get it. If I was a lesbian I’d be in love with her too.”

“What?”

“Ignore him,” Ned intervened, retrieving his phone in the process. Peter’s face was barely visible behind his best friend’s head. “Are you gonna ask her out? Please tell me you’re gonna ask her out.”

“I mean it depends—”

“I’ll take that as a yes. By the way, Peter and I were just discussing the two of you and we think you’re really cute together.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you have lots of stuff in common and—”

MJ decided to cut Peter’s explanation short. “Yeah, that’s enough. Bye.”

A few seconds after she had ended the call, MJ received a text from Peter containing Shuri’s phone number.

✸✸✸

The coffee shop was crowded. So crowded that it was difficult to discern the line for ordering coffee from the line for retrieving coffee, and in between the lines was yet another group of people trying to navigate around all the other people. It was chaos. Shuri looked excited.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to another place?” MJ asked.

“Is there another Starbucks close by?”

“No, I mean like another coffee shop.”

“But I love Starbucks.”

“Okay. What are you gonna get?”

“The pumpkin spice latte.”

“Really? It’s kind of a white girl drink.”

Shuri shrugged. “The white girls must like it for a reason. What are you getting?”

“A cappuccino.”

“But that’s so boring! Why don’t you get the unicorn drink?”

“The unicorn frappuccino?”

“Yes! I’ve seen them all over the internet.”

“Maybe like a year ago. I’m not even sure if they still make them.”

“They can probably make it if you ask.”

“It probably tastes disgusting.”

“That’s probably true.”

By now MJ and Shuri had reached the front of the line. MJ turned to Shuri and muttered “This is peer pressure” before ordering one unicorn frappuccino. The barista managed to maintain her smile, but MJ noticed that the curve of her lips went from easy-going to forced. As the two girls left the coffee shop, drinks in hand, Shuri began to laugh.

“Did you see the pain in her eyes?” MJ said. Shuri only nodded, speechless with laughter. “Now I can never go back there, thanks to you.”

“Was it worth it?”

MJ offered the drink to Shuri, who made a disgusted face as soon as it touched her lips. “It’s way too sweet.”

“I know. I can’t believe they sacrificed a unicorn to make this shit.”

“I’m sorry for forcing you to buy it. I just want to try all the Starbucks drinks before going back to Wakanda.”

“All of them? That’s impossible.”

“I’ve already had fourteen different kinds.”

“Fourteen? In the three days? That’s way too much caffeine.”

“I’ve barely slept, but I’m still sticking to my plan.”

“You know they have a secret menu, right?” Shuri’s eyes widened in surprise. Clearly she did not know. “You’ll have to stay here a long time of you want to try every drink at Starbucks.”

“I wish I could.”

“When do you have to leave?”

“In a week.”

“A week?!” MJ didn’t attempt to hide her disappointment. She had always known Shuri had come to New York in order to work on the Outreach Centre. But she had hoped her new friend would stay a little longer. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better now that MJ wouldn’t have the time to fall for Shuri. Maybe…

Shuri reached to sweep a stray lock of hair behind MJ’s ear, letting her fingers brush softly against her temple.

… Maybe MJ had already fallen for Shuri, and one week was all the time she would be able to spend with this intelligent, beautiful, funny, ambitious, amazing girl. Maybe one week just had to be enough.

MJ and Shuri continued ambling along the street, not toward any specific destination. Pedestrians pushed past them while cars sped up and down the street, all moving much too fast for the girls who wanted time to stand still.

A cold gust of air swept dead leaves off the ground and traveled upward, sneaking its way inside hats and mittens, chilling ears and fingers. Shuri zipped up her bomber jacket. MJ realized she must not be used to the cold, having lived in Wakanda all her life. “Here,” she said, taking off her brown-and-yellow scarf and wrapping it around Shuri, who gave a thankful smile.

As the next gust of wind blew through the street, Shuri pulled the giant scarf closer to her chest and buried her nose under the swaths of excessive fabric.

“Better?” MJ asked.

Shuri nodded vigorously. “This is a great scarf.”

“Thanks. I had to knit it myself because I couldn’t find any scarves that hadn’t been manufactured by underpaid employees working under poor conditions.”

“I think it’s great that you care so much about human rights. Most people say they care, and say that people who don’t care are bad people. But when it comes down to it, most people only care about other people as long as it doesn’t inconvenience them.”

“Yeah. There are lots of vulnerable people in the world, but sometimes it seems like the people who can help them don’t give a shit.”

“For a long time Wakanda didn’t give a shit. We thought that interacting with the rest of the world would destroy the country, and said that the people who were suffering weren’t our problem. In the end my brother realized that helping others was more important than keeping our nation a secret. I think he made the right choice.”

“I think so too. Making advanced technology available to people from all backgrounds is gonna make a big difference.”

For a while the two of them continued walking down the busy street, until Shuri stopped abruptly. “Weren’t you supposed to be showing me around New York?” she asked.

“This is New York.”

“Yes, but this street is just like any other street in any other city! I want to see the real New York.”

“What, like the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building?”

Shuri seemed slightly frustrated. “Are you from around here?” she asked, ignoring MJ’s question.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve lived here your whole life?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must know the city better than anyone! I want to see everything from your perspective. Take me to your favorite spots.”

Finally MJ understood exactly what Shuri wanted to do. And she knew exactly where to take her. “Come on then,” MJ said with a mischievous grin, taking Shuri’s hand and leading her away.

✸✸✸

MJ didn’t let go of Shuri’s hand until they had reached their destination. “Is this the place?” the princess asked. MJ nodded and pushed open the door to reveal a dark, old-fashioned room filled with shelves of books. “Your favorite place in the city is a used bookstore?” Shuri sounded curious, as if keen to learn more about her new friend.

Still, MJ felt nervous. “I’ve never told anyone about this place. I usually come here when I want to be alone.”

Shuri looked up from the novel she had started leafing through. Something about her expression told MJ that Shuri understood the significance behind MJ’s words. That Shuri had been invited to a part of MJ’s life she had never shared before. That she had never wanted to share before.

The girls were alone in the store, apart from the owner: an elderly woman who shuffled between the counter and the back room. The owner of the store paid no attention to MJ and Shuri, in fact, she barely seemed aware of their presence. Neither MJ nor Shuri seemed aware of the old woman, or if they were, they quickly forgot about her. In this store it was easy to forget about the rest of the world. Any anxiety MJ had felt upon entering the store with Shuri had been left at the threshold. Inside, there were only stories. Shuri enjoyed reading the bad ones aloud. She would open a romance novel and the read the summary to MJ, who would try to keep a straight face and who almost always failed.

When the two of them finally left the store, laden with several books each—good ones—dusk had already settled. The sun had disappeared behind the tall buildings across the street, and left long shadows to form patterns on the ground.

“I really should get back to Stark’s,” Shuri said.

“Okay.” They decided to stay put and wait for a cab. As they were waiting for a car to arrive, MJ changed the topic. “When do you think the Outreach Centre will be finished?”

“According to Stark’s estimates, two years, although I think that’s optimistic.”

“And when it’s done, I bet you’ll need a bunch of people to work there…”

“Of course. We will need scientists and technicians to work as mentors and teach the kids about our technology. Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about… applying for a job. When the center’s done obviously.”

Shuri’s eyes widened, first in surprise, then in excitement. “That’s a great idea! It’s the perfect job for you! It’s perfect!” Shuri was practically beaming. MJ beamed too.

“I know it’s years away, but I’m already excited.” Shuri nodded in agreement. Then MJ noticed her smile falter. A second later Shuri was smiling as broadly as ever, but by then MJ had already picked up on the fluctuation in her demeanor. The short-lived moment of pure joy and exhilaration was replaced by lopsided smiles and bittersweet words.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving in a few days,” MJ said.

“Me neither,” Shuri said.

And then she just stood there, looking small. Looking sad and looking small. And maybe it was that Shuri looked like she was freezing in the autumn breeze, or that her wide smile had been replaced with an expression of melancholy hopelessness, or that she was still wearing the too-big yellow-and-brown scarf. For some reason MJ just felt like kissing Shuri. And she did. She placed one hand gently on Shuri’s cheek and the other at her neck and kissed her lips for just a few seconds before pulling away. She scanned Shuri’s face for a reaction. MJ felt her heart pound, her stomach clench, her fingers tense.

Shuri spoke so softly. “I was hoping you would do that.” That smile again.

Shuri kissed MJ ever so sweetly. She wrapped her arms around the other girl’s waist, buried her hand’s in her hair, leaned against her. Neither of them could stop smiling. After an attempt to return MJ’s scarf which turned into yet another kiss, the two of them somehow ended up tangled in the soft knitting.

When a cab approached, they were finally forced to break apart. MJ stood on the sidewalk and waved goodbye. She smiled that smile she hated. Bittersweet.

✸✸✸

“I’m gonna miss you, Shuri.”

“I will miss you too, MJ.”

“Will you come back soon?”

“Hopefully.”

“But not definitely?”

Shuri shook her head. “I have a lot of work to do, and I’m not sure if any of it will bring me back to New York.” MJ, although obviously disappointed, nodded in understanding. “You are of course welcome to visit me in Wakanda.”

MJ imagined being shown around the palace, walking through the forest, getting to see all that amazing technology with her own eyes. She imagined doing all those things with Shuri. “Yeah, I’d like that. Maybe in the summer.”

“I can’t wait.”

Shuri looked over MJ’s shoulder and giggled. When MJ turned around she saw Peter and Ned waving at them from the airport entrance.

“What are those idiots still doing here? I told them to wait in the car,” MJ said with a disapproving glance in her friends’ direction.

“You know,” Shuri said once MJ had turned back around to face her. “When I went back to Stark’s after we had gone to your bookstore, Peter was there and he told me you were in love with me.”

“Oh my God.”

“He was very excited when I told him—”

“Oh, I know. I only got, like, a thousand texts.”

Shuri giggled. “He’s not very good at keeping secrets.”

“He really isn’t. I’m surprised he hasn’t accidentally told someone that he’s Spider-Man yet.”

“You know that Peter is Spider-Man?”

“Of course. He’s terrible at keeping secrets and a terrible liar. He just doesn’t know I know.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I wanna mess with him a bit first.”

Shuri’s eyes lit up at the idea of MJ pranking Peter. “When you do, you must film it and show it to me. That reminds me…” She began rummaging through her backpack. A minute later Shuri had procured what looked like a beaded bracelet. She offered it to MJ, who turned it over in her hands, inspecting it.

“I’m guessing this isn’t just a bracelet.”

“These are Kimoyo Beads. They have many uses, but I thought we could use them to communicate when we’re not together. The beads display holograms, so we can see and talk to each other even when we’re far apart.”

“How do they work?”

Shuri grinned. “You’ll figure it out.”

And then there was nothing more to say. MJ wrapped her arms around Shuri and pulled her into an embrace. Shuri nestled her forehead under in the crook of MJ’s neck, surrounded by knitted scarves and locks of hair. When Shuri eventually broke the embrace, she did so hesitantly.

“I have to leave now,” Shuri said. MJ was still holding on to her shoulders.

“I know.”

“I’m gonna miss my flight.”

“So?”

“So? I’d be stuck here for another day.”

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

Then Shuri held MJ’s face in her hands and kissed her softly, sweetly. “Good bye.”

“Bye.”

Shuri walked toward the security check, pulling her suitcase behind her. She turned around once, to wave and give MJ one last smile. Seconds later she had disappeared in the crowd of people milling around the airport.

The ride home started off in silence. Stark’s driver, Happy, seemed to have picked up on MJ’s somber mood. Even Ned and Peter were quiet. At least for a while.

“It sucks that Shuri had to leave,” Ned said suddenly.

“Yeah, it does.”

“But you’ll probably get to see her soon, right?” Peter sounded hopeful.

“Maybe,” MJ replied, stroking the Kimoyo Beads on her wrist.

“I know we’re not princesses or geniuses,” Peter said, while Ned pointed to himself and mouthed I am. “But we’re still your friends,” Peter continued, “you still have us.”

The corner of MJ’s mouth lifted ever so slightly. “I guess you’ll have to do.”

Notes: I had so much fun writing this! Btw this is the first and only fic I’ve ever written, although I think I want to write more, so if anyone reading this has any feedback or constructive criticism feel free let me know. Thanks for reading :)

[lesbiansassemble]

DaiHey everyone! Thank you all for following me, I love you guys so much! Somehow, you’ve managed to put a smile on my face every single day, and I honestly can’t thank you enough. You guys are the best! x

To celebrate reaching 10,000+ followers, I’ve decided to do a femslash writing challenge. I’m hoping this will encourage more people to write for the wlw community because there doesn’t seem to be a lot of femslash marvel fanfiction around. All writers, at any level, are encouraged to take part. It doesn’t matter whether you’ve never written anything before, or whether you’re an avid writer, everybody is welcome to join. If you’re not sure whether you want to take part or if you’re nervous about it but still want to give it a go, please send me a message. I would encourage everybody to give it a go as this writing challenge is just for fun! 

More information under the cut:

Rules:

must be following me

reblog this post

your fic can either be a reader insert or a ship fic

500 words minimum

if your fic is longer than 500 words, please use a read more link

your fic can be about any marvel character/s

smut is allowed (only for those 18+)

no pedophilia, rape/non-con, dub-con

no underage smut

characters under 18 can be present in your fic, as long as their romantic interest is under 18 as well (e.g. Shuri/MJ)

femslash fics only

for those unsure, trans characters are of course, included (e.g. Lady Loki), but both characters in the pairing must identify as female

any female character is allowed, from Peggy, to Aunt May, to Hela, to MJ. as long as they are female marvel characters.

tag all your triggers/warnings

tag your fic with ‘nessies10kchallenge’ + tag me in the post

if you don’t want to see content about the challenge, please feel free to blacklist ‘nessies10kchallenge’

if you choose a sentence prompt, please bold it in the story

if i don’t respond to your fic with a ‘like’ for bookmarking, please send me a message with a link

deadline: 25th September, 2018

if you need more time, please send me a message

if you are writing a series, the first part must be posted by the deadline

To enter:

Send me an ask/message with your choice of prompt + what character if it’s a reader insert, or what ship if it’s a ship fic

Prompts:

Choose either an AU or a sentence prompt:

AU’s

Fake Relationship  @aw--heck - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Fantasy @hufflewolf - Jane Foster x Darcy Lewis

Roommates @captainindustries - Okoye x Natasha

Soulmates @sapphic-wanda - Gamora x Valkyrie

High School @cacti-succulents-andlesbians - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Coffee Shop @buckymuchplums - Valkyrie x Reader

Tattoo Artist @princess-zeldork - Valkyrie x Reader

Modern @bidisastertonystark - Lady Loki x Valkyrie

Hospital @claracivry - Lady Loki x Darcy

Dance @wannabe-trickster-god - Mantis x Reader

Prison @thorjorts - Lady Loki x Jane Foster

Wedding @bucky-is-love-bucky-is-life - Whitney Frost x Dottie Underwood

Pregnancy @lovethymonsters - Peggy Carter x Angie Martinelli 

Kid Fic  @napolibarnes - Winifred Barnes x Sarah Rogers

First Kiss @odin-sun - Jemma Simmons x Daisy Johnson

Historical @mcu-peterparker  - Peggy Carter x Natasha Romanoff

First Date @authorpocketcow - Shuri x MJ

Dialogue 

“We’re trapped.” @whelvenwings - MJ x Shuri

“Go away!” @marvel-biatch - Natasha Romanoff x Reader

“Are you drunk?” @jotunking - Valkyrie x Reader

“You’re distracting me.”  @spaaghettii - Karen Page x Trish Walker

“We need a distraction.” @angryjane - Gwenpool x Squirrel Girl

“It’s broken.” @tigersclaws - Shuri x MJ

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” @gamorrra - Valkyrie x Gamora

“I heard you and ___ had lunch together.” @arclightstarkbright - Samantha Wilson x Peggy Carter

“Will you marry me?” @hiding-behind-a-camera - May Parker x Peggy Carter

“I don’t like the way he/she/they look/s at you.”  @faandral - Lady Loki x Amora

“We’ll be safe there. Just come with me.” @bannermd - Carol Danvers x Valkyrie

“Tell me what’s wrong, otherwise I can’t help you.” @your-villainous-neighbour - Pepper Potts x May Parker

“Is that blood?” @linz3 - Mantis x Nebula

“Do you trust me?” @twilightjoltik-toumei - Mantis x Nebula

“Is that my shirt?”  @aroloki - Lady Loki x Verity Willis

“I need your help.” @wlwanda - Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

“Please stay.” @peters-parkours - Shuri x Reader

“I don’t remember.” @spideyandstark - Valkyrie x Lady Loki

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” @not-a-recommended-url - Mantis x Nebula

“I need to tell you something.” @minersofmines - MJ x Shuri

“I did it for you.” @mr-stark-i-dont-feel-so-good - Shuri x MJ

“Were you eavesdropping?” @clickbaitsmotel - Natasha Romanoff x Pepper Potts

“I’m gay.” @theotpauthor - Shuri x MJ

“You don’t mean that.” @smarterthanstark - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

“Let’s run away together.” @foundlingmother - Valkyrie x Sif

“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”  @milkshake-sprinkels Natasha Romanoff x Okoye

“Are you from around here?” @asermann - MJ x Shuri

[whelvenwings]

✭ Girl Like You ✭

Pairing: Michelle Jones/Shuri Word Count: 13.8k Thank you so much to @lesbiansassemble for letting me take part in her 10k femslash challenge, with the prompt “We’re Trapped”!!

MJ doesn't do opening up to people. She doesn't do dancing at lame parties. She doesn't do singing in public. She doesn't do losing control in any way that she could possibly help, ever. She also definitely does not do being trapped in an elevator - not after what happened at the Washington Monument.

And then she meets Shuri.

((I wrote this for a challenge with a 500-word minimum, and ended up writing so much more. I totally fell in love with these characters and how I imagined their relationship might grow. I hope you enjoy it if you check it out!!))

Read the first chapter below or check it out here on AO3!!

***

“- and she’s coming to our school? Our school?”

“Ned. I’m not kidding.”

“Tell me this isn’t like the time in eighth grade when -”

“No, I swear to God, it’s not like the time you ate your own eraser.”

“You said that you’d switched out one of my things for candy and it just looked so -”

MJ folded her arms, sank down in her seat on the bus, and tried to tune out the conversation Peter and Ned were having in front of her.

“I said that because I thought you’d guess , not just pick something up and chew on it…”

She closed her eyes, and pictured her desk back at home: and there they were - her headphones, sitting on top of her laptop. Exactly where she’d left them, trudging past in an early-morning haze on her way out of the door; their wire curled up in an enticing beckon, promising bass thick enough to drown out whatever was going on in front of her.

“No, no, seriously,” Peter was saying. “I swear, she’s actually coming to our school.”

MJ’s head was aching. Last night had held an accidental Wikipedia binge, hopping from article to article, reading all the new tech pages that were springing up like weeds on the sidewalk; Kimoyo Beads. Ring Blades. Vibranium Strike Gauntlets. The details were sparse and there wasn’t a lot to go on - but over the course of the six hours MJ had spent lost down the rabbit hole, at least two of the articles had already grown extra subsections. New information was flooding in.

It had made MJ’s heart thud as she sat bathed in the blueish light of her laptop at three in the morning, on the night before the first day of junior year.

And it was only now, as she sat on the bus and tried desperately to convince her body that closing her eyes constituted more sleep, that she felt even the slightest twinge of regret. Watching this stuff happen was once-in-a-lifetime.

“Hey, MJ.” Ned’s voice, loud enough to be heard clearly over the roar of the bus, made MJ frown. “MJ.”

“Mmm.” She did her best impression of a person who was extremely asleep.

“EM JAY.”

She slit her eyes open, making sure that her stare encompassed the exact right ratio of tiredness, irritation, lack of investment, and sheer dead-eyed scariness as possible. Ned hitched on a grin in the face of it, clearly not appreciating the artistry that went into the expression’s careful emotional makeup.

“Did you know about this?” he said, gesturing with one hand towards Peter. The bus rattled onto the school grounds, stop-starting to avoid the students running across the path. MJ glanced from Ned to Peter’s profile and back again, making sure to look completely disinterested.

“Know about what,” she said flatly.

“Who’s joining the school this year?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Really?” Peter spun completely in his seat to look at her. MJ’s eyes flicked over to him - his brown hair a slight mess, as usual, though she could see that there had been some attempts to school it into a definite style. He, too, looked tired, though MJ could concede in the privacy of her own head that he wore it with better humour than she did herself. “How’d you know?”

“Because we’re best friends already,” MJ said.

“You what?”

“Oh, yeah. Me and my dear friend Please Shut Up go way back.” She glared at the pair of them, and then shut her eyes.

“What’s up with you?” she heard Ned say. “Late night?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Uh… yeah, I gue-”

“I was hanging out with Please Shut Up. Having a ton of good times.”

“You’re mean.”

MJ snorted. The bus came to a complete stop, and the doors sighed open; MJ kept her eyes tightly closed for a few seconds longer, trying to enjoy the feeling as much as she possibly could while everyone around her scrambled for their bags and began to pile out into the parking lot.

“Ding ding,” she heard Ned say. “This is our stop.”

“Ugh.”

Rolling her eyes behind closed lids, she grabbed for her backpack on the empty seat beside her, and slouched off the bus behind Ned and Peter. She winced against the sunlight, sleeplessness watering everything around her down to a kind of liquid surreality. She yawned - but even as she did so, even as most of her mind was dedicated to wishing that she was back in her bed with her head on a soft pillow and her comforter pulled all the way up to her chin, even as she blinked slowly and sleepily - she realised that there was some kind of commotion happening across on the other side of the parking lot.

“Oh my god,” Ned said, punching Peter - surprisingly hard, MJ thought, but Peter didn’t seem to really feel it. “Oh, my god, it’s happening. It is happening.”

The words what’s happening were on the tip of MJ’s tongue; an image of Ned’s smug face rose up in front of her, how happy he’d be at knowing something she didn’t after she’d been rude on the bus, and she bit back her questions. Instead, she started to head quickly towards the school - directly away from the crowd. There were a few odd looks thrown her way by all the people heading in the opposite direction, but she paid them no attention whatsoever.

The growing melee surged behind her as she walked through the school gates, not meeting anyone’s eye. Instead of going inside, though, she took a quick right, heading for a conveniently placed wall that started low and slowly sloped upwards; climbing up, she walked her way to higher ground, peering over the heads of the crowd in the parking lot.

She was too far away to see what was really happening, except that there were four sleek black cars all parked side by side, and some women in red standing absolutely still and eyeing the general ruckus of students. They seemed to be keeping some kind of peace just by looking vaguely ready to kill anyone who looked at them.

MJ stared, wishing she could so effortlessly channel that kind of energy.

The clothes they were wearing… she narrowed her eyes. She knew that armour, she knew those patterns. They all had shaved heads, too - no hair for anyone to grab onto in a fight.

She blinked. Surely, it wasn’t possible. She’d just spent all night reading about these exact women and their country and their weapons and their technology, and now she was sleep deprived, and seeing things. These could not be the Dora Milaje.

MJ wasn’t even completely clear on how that was pronounced, let alone being prepared to see them in her school’s parking lot.

And then, out of one of the cars, stepped a girl.

MJ felt her breathe leave her, before she’d even fully registered who she was looking at. Dressed in lowkey, casual clothes - just jeans, a t-shirt, and a black and white jacket, with her hair tied up at the back of her head - was a person MJ knew by sight, instantly. Someone she’d read about; someone she followed on Twitter; someone she’d seen on the news, announcing the arrival of new outreach buildings across the country. Someone she’d actually considered getting Snapchat for, just to see her stories and selfies.

Shuri, Princess of Wakanda.

The crowd around Shuri were going wild, yelling and waving. The Dora Milaje were looking, somehow, even more stern as they kept the tide of teenage enthusiasm at bay. Shuri offered them all a grin, and MJ felt her heart flip in her chest.

With a little nod of her head, Shuri began to walk towards the school. Like a flock of seagulls, the students all around her shuffled and squawked at each other, following along; Shuri seemed unfazed, not ignoring them, but just smiling around and occasionally laughing.

She must be used to this by now, MJ thought.

“I told my brother,” she heard the Princess say as she headed through the gates. “I told him, I wanted to take the bus! The big cars will only make it worse! Tomorrow I’m taking the bus here and there’s nothing he can do about it…”

MJ shifted, almost falling off the wall. Shuri was going to be here - not just for one day, but for two?

The suddenness of her movement must have caught Shuri’s eye. Down below, the Princess jerked her head up - frowning, her eyes drifted upwards too - and quite suddenly, MJ found herself meeting the gaze of the Princess of Wakanda.

MJ froze.

Shuri’s eyebrows raised slightly, and her mouth crooked into a smile - a small one, genuine, not for show - as she took in MJ standing atop the wall. MJ swallowed. Before there was time to smile politely, or wave, or do anything at all, the moment was over. Shuri had walked into the school, her eyes sliding away.

When the swirling wave of students chasing after her had washed inside with her, MJ hopped down off the wall. She leaned back against it; she could still feel her heart pounding.

Shuri had smiled.

And MJ hadn’t even tried to tame her hair this morning, beyond shoving it into a bun at the back of her head. Not that she expected someone as smart as Shuri to be making judgements about someone based on how many flyaways they had going on, hair-wise, or how beat-up their shoes looked, or how probably vacant and awestruck their expression was…

MJ breathed out. But Shuri had smiled.

She found herself half-smiling down at the ground, just thinking about it.

“So, how did you enjoy meeting Princess Please Shut Up ?”she heard a voice say. She looked up, blinking away her mind’s looped replaying of the moment that had just happened.

Ned was smiling at her smugly, while Peter stared up the steps after Shuri.

MJ considered using words to reply, and then decided a simple gesture would do the trick.

“Aw, come on. That’s not nice.”

They headed inside as a reluctant, ragged trio.

“So… she’s here because…” MJ said, unable to resist fishing for information any longer.

“To go to school,” Ned finished for her. “Something about community outreach or whatever.” MJ tried to keep walking normally, tried to keep breathing. Shuri. The Princess of Wakanda - a title so grandiose that it sounded ridiculous even to think it - that Shuri. Was going to be here every day? Was going to take classes? Was going to join band or the cheer squad, was going to go to parties, was going to - to go to high school?

“But she’s, like… a genius,” MJ said, sounding stupid to herself. “Like… she doesn’t need high school.”

Ned shrugged, while Peter looked thoughtful.

“Peter, does she even know about -” Ned began.

“Don’t know,” Peter said shortly, with a pointed look, before seeming to sink back into his thoughts. MJ narrowed her eyes at the pair of them, before shrugging it off.

Whatever. Those guys were losers.

And Shuri had smiled.

***

Read the rest here on AO3!!

[burglarhobbit]

written for @lesbiansassemble‘s femslash writing challenge!

pairing: valkyrie/gamora

word count: 7044

click here to read on a03.

different kinds of freedom 

Valkyrie wonders, sometimes, about what she’s doing on Sakaar. If she doesn’t ought to stop, find someplace else to crash. Every once in a while, she sees one of the warriors she caught die, big men and strong women who fought, and fought. Sometimes, one of them kills themselves, in the Grandmaster’s chains, or tries to run. A lot of people die on Sakaar, and Valkyrie wonders if any of them are her fault.

But then she remembers she can’t be permitted to care, drinks a bottle of beer, and forgets about everyone’s problems. It’s a cruel world, and she best remember that. A girl has to find a way to live, somehow.

This is her way.

She doesn’t even know how many people she’s enslaved for the Grandmaster’s games. Anyone who looks like they might be interesting, she takes. She’s stronger than most people think, looking at her, and taking people is a piece of cake. She only takes those who look lost, anyway – the lost causes, the forgotten souls. It’s her way of showing of mercy, even if others wouldn’t see it like that.

The woman that is lying in front of her, unconscious, is the perfect example of someone who looks lost.

Valkyrie regards her for a moment, hand ghosting over the holster of her gun, just in case. The green-skinned woman has long hair that trails over her bare shoulders. She’s wearing a leather get-up, and has multiple guns and swords on her. There’s no doubt in Valkyrie’s mind that she landed here by mistake; no one has any business in-between worlds, least of all women like these. Valkyrie sits down next to her, moving the hair behind the woman’s ear. Her eyes are closed, but there’s still some sort of grim look on her face. She’s beautiful, though.

Beautiful, and doubtlessly very dangerous. Valkyrie considers her some more, and then plants the shocker on her neck. This woman is a fighter, no two ways about it, and if she were awake, Valkyrie might have had a hard time taking her in. It’s a lucky day, for her; she already found a pretty boy that she thinks the Grandmaster will like, and now she’s found a contender.

She heaves the woman into her ship, and sets for Sakaar.

~*~

When Gamora wakes up, she doesn’t know where she is. It doesn’t happen, often; Gamora has been trained to be alert immediately, and she doesn’t remember falling asleep.

As she looks up, finding herself in a ship, she knows why that is.

Inwardly, she curses, as she takes in her surroundings. They’re flying above a very colourful city that Gamora doesn’t recognize. There’s a woman, somewhere above her, steering the ship. A few feet away, a guy with brown curls and big, blue eyes, is calmly sitting there, looking at the houses that they pass.

He’s not going to be a help, Gamora decides within a split second, and she focuses on the woman. Her skin is a beautiful colour, and she has a sort of grin on her face that classifies her as trouble-maker, in Gamora’s mind. There’s a half-empty bottle of alcohol standing next to her, and a few empty ones as well.

Just as Gamora decides to make a move for it, the woman speaks up. ‘’Ah-ah,’’ she says. ‘’Just stay down until we get there.’’

‘’Release me right now,’’ Gamora demands, but the woman hits a button on a small device she’s carrying around and Gamora goes down as she feels the electricity surge through her entire body.

‘’No, I don’t think so,’’ the woman says with a self-satisfied grin. Gamora glares at her, but doesn’t try to get up again.

~*~

The next time Gamora wakes up, she finds herself trapped in a chair. She struggles, but it’s impossible to get out, and she lets out a grunt of frustration.

She doesn’t remember how she got here. The last thing she remembers, in fact, is entering the ship of the Centaurian she had to kill. That was the mission Thanos had given her, and it hadn’t seemed anything remarkable at the time. Still, he must’ve managed to do something to her. That doesn’t explain how she ended up in that woman’s ship, though, or why she is stuck to this chair now.

She goes through some sort of tunnel, and she wants to huff at the ridiculousness of it all, until she ends up face to face with a man with an ageless sort of face, looking at her thoughtfully.

‘’Hello there,’’ he says.

And that’s how she becomes a contender.

~*~

Hours pass into days. Days pass into weeks.

Gamora stops believing that anyone will come for her – even if Thanos is interested in getting back a daughter who failed, she’s starting to understand that Sakaar isn’t the kind of place that is found. It’s the kind of planet that is lost, and that has found itself. The epicentre of unloved, unwanted objects; she’s starting to see how that works.

At the start, they had her fighting only a few of the weaker contestants. They didn’t know who she was, after all. Gamora doesn’t know if it’s a smart move to let the Grandmaster in on her abilities, but these contests are brutal. Face to face with another warrior who merely wants to live another day, she’s had to put some of her contestants down remorselessly.

She hates this game. Gamora doesn’t have issues with sliding a knife along a man’s neck until all the blood has left the body – she can’t have, considering where she comes from – but that doesn’t mean she enjoys it. Killing, she has always believed, is a tool used to be when necessary. It’s not entertainment, it’s not anything worth applauding her for. She doesn’t mind killing, but she detests the feeling of yet another dead body under her. It’s for nothing, and it’s useless.

And yet, Gamora keeps fighting, just so she can live another day.

~*~

‘’You know I think your contenders are all amazing,’’ the Grandmaster says, as he twiddles with his hands. It’s almost a nervous tick, if Valkyrie didn’t know for certain that the Grandmaster doesn’t actually get nervous. ‘’Marvellous. But lately, they’ve been all a bit disappointing, you know? Since you brought that woman contender, the rest of them have been, well, quite dead. I don’t know where you got her from, but I’d really like another.’’

‘’I don’t know if I can do that, Grandmaster,’’ she says, watching him carefully. One never knows with the Grandmaster; he likes her, she knows that, but maybe that’s not enough to keep her safe from his ever-changing wiles.

His expression doesn’t change, but he tilts his head a bit. ‘’You wouldn’t let me down, right, Scrapper 142? You always bring me the nicest gifts. I just want another one, so we can challenge our lovely Contestant a bit. Maybe just find out where she is from?’’

Valkyrie nods. If the Grandmaster wants something, that’s what he’ll get. Her life in Sakaar depends on it, and as far as she’s concerned, that’s the only life she has.

~*~

The Grandmaster doesn’t have cells. He doesn’t believe in it, he says, but Valkyrie thinks that’s about the same thing as calling the slaves he holds ‘prisoners with jobs’ – it’s just a fancy way of covering up the reality of Sakaar.

The reality of Sakaar is that everyone is enslaved to it, whether you’re a contender or not. Valkyrie is as much a slave to it as everyone else – her entire life is here, her relief, her alcohol. This place is her way to leave behind her past, but it’s also a cage for her future. She knows she’ll never amount to anything of value here; she just tries not to care about that. It has worked pretty well for her, so far.

So when she sees the green-skinned woman sitting on the large bed, her clothes comfortable and her fridge fully stocked with food, Valkyrie isn’t surprised. This woman is one of the best contenders Sakaar has seen in a long time, and it’s common knowledge that the Grandmaster takes good care of his most achieving pets.

The woman snaps up when she sees Valkyrie, her body tensing as if readying itself for a fight, but Valkyrie holds up her device. ‘’One wrong movement, and you’re on the ground,’’ she threatens lightly, her thumb hovering over the button of the obedience disk.

The woman stills, but her dark eyes follow Valkyrie with an intensity that she rarely encounters. Once again she is overcome by the beauty and grace the contender radiates, but she ignores it. She isn’t here to be distracted by a very dangerous woman’s looks, but to find another contender, so she gets more money. More money means more booze, and more booze means more nights spent in restful slumber.

‘’What?’’ the woman asks. Her hair waves along her shoulders, and Valkyrie wonders at how someone so beautiful can be so dangerous. She’s seen some of the fights; she knows this woman knows how to take care of herself. She’s seen her take down opponents of twice her size. Valkyrie isn’t afraid to take her on, should it come to that, but she knows it wouldn’t be easy.

Valkyrie goes for a smirk. ‘’Can’t I just want to talk to one of the most successful contenders that Sakaar has seen in years?’’ she asks, and leans against the wall.

The woman stares at her as if she’s gone insane. ‘’You’re unbelievable,’’ she spats. ‘’You’re the entire reason I’m in this hellhole, and now you’re going to make fun of it? Is this all just a game to you? Oh, what am I even saying, of course it is. No one in here has any idea of morals at all, of course!’’

Valkyrie raises her eyebrows. ‘’You didn’t seem to have a lot of problems killing your opponents.’’

‘’I didn’t do it for fun!’’ the woman protests, and she stands up. The bed creaks slightly as she walks in a straight line towards Valkyrie. She’s angry, and Valkyrie holds her breath for a moment. She has the darkest eyes, this woman, and Valkyrie can see her own reflection for a moment before she attempts to tackle her to the ground.

Valkyrie grabs the woman’s arm on instinct, and pushes her against the wall, but she responds by kicking swiftly behind her, hitting Valkyrie’s stomach.

She hits the button, even as she gasps for breath. ‘’That was just rude,’’ she says, as she watches the woman lie on the ground with her eyes closed, letting the pain pass through her. ‘’I’m not here for you, whatever you may think. I’m here for me, but I just need to know a few things. What’s your name?’’

‘’Why should I tell you?’’ the woman glares at her, but Valkyrie waves around with her device again.

‘’This can be a very long night,’’ she says. ‘’I don’t care what happens to you, either way. You have a contest in a few hours, right? So you should probably save your strength, and not fight someone who can have you lying on the ground within seconds. Sounds like the smart thing to do.’’

The woman heaves a sight, before sitting up against the wall. ‘’Gamora,’’ she then says silently. ‘’My name is Gamora.’’

‘’Alright,’’ Valkyrie says easily. ‘’Now then, Gamora, I need to know where you’re from, and if they’re all able to fight like you.’’

Gamora snickers. ‘’Where I’m from? Believe me, you don’t want to know. Why do you even ask?’’

‘’Because the Grandmaster wants contenders,’’ Valkyrie says. She doesn’t care enough to lie – why should she? Gamora isn’t going to be able to stop her, whether she wants to or not. She can refuse to cooperate, of course, but it’s not like Valkyrie can make up a lie that will make the woman work with her.

Gamora regards her with an unreadable look. ‘’You can’t go where I’m from,’’ she says. ‘’It’s a dangerous place, one of the darkest in the galaxy.’’

‘’Well then, you must be glad I brought you here,’’ Valkyrie retorts. ‘’I can handle myself. It’s easier if you tell me.’’

‘’I can’t tell you where it is,’’ Gamora says, crossing her arms. ‘’It’s not on a place that’s on a map. It’s only known to those who live there, and believe me, you’re not going to come across one of them and remain alive. So, no, I can’t tell you. But I can show you.’’

‘’Nice try,’’ Valkyrie laughs. ‘’So I’ll let you out of here? Is that what you’re thinking to do?’’

‘’You still have that thing,’’ Gamora says, nodding her head at the device. ‘’I get a few days free from the contests. I’ll try for a few escape attempts, and you seem to be sure enough you’ll be able to take me. So what’s the downside for you?’’

Valkyrie shakes her head a bit, trying to stop laughing. ‘’You’ve got yourself a deal,’’ she says.

Gamora smirks.

~*~

Gamora has a plan, of course.

She isn’t the galaxy’s most feared assassin for nothing. Getting away from here is the first priority; making sure it’s not back into Thanos’ hands is her second. She isn’t exactly keen to go back to her adoptive father, and as unfortunate as these events are, this is the most unlikely place for Thanos to find her. From her on, she can drop off the radar.

She just has to steer the woman who caught her into the right direction. Gamora hardly cares what happens to her. If she gets close enough to Thanos, he might kill her. If she manages to escape before they get there, then that’s also good.

Even if the feeling that, maybe, the woman is a lot more like Gamora than she thought starts nagging at her. Even if she’s growing curious about the story that is bound to be behind those dark eyes. Gamora won’t be persuaded. She won’t.

~*~

The Grandmaster trusts her, and that’s the only reason Valkyrie is allowed to take Gamora with her. Of course, there’s some suspicions – mainly coming from Topaz – about it, but she assured the Grandmaster that she took Gamora originally, and she’ll bring her back too.

Now it’s just the question whether Valkyrie can trust Gamora. She’s not sure, but she has the shocking device, and she’s willing to try. If it doesn’t work out, she’ll get back to Sakaar.

They’re sitting together in Valkyrie’s ship, Gamora’s hands bound. The green-skinned woman is looking out of the window, silently, but Valkyrie doesn’t mourn the absence of mindless chatter. ‘’Where to?’’ she just asks.

Gamora’s eyes focus on her for a mere second before she looks back to the window. ‘’First, go to darkest and foulest place you can find,’’ she says, her voice low and calm. ‘’And then, ask the locals where they’re afraid to go.’’

Valkyrie looks straight ahead, and doesn’t comment.

~*~

She does as Gamora says, and follows to the direction the toughest and worst people she can think of point her to. They tell her not to go, and whenever she comes back to her ship after having asked for directions, she can feel Gamora’s eyes on her.

It would be enough to make her shiver, but Valkyrie’s seen enough bad things in the world to be able to face wherever she’s going. She has already lost everything; there’s nothing that could happen to her that would scare her.

~*~

They’ve been travelling for two days when Gamora first speaks.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’ she says.

‘’What?’’ Valkyrie responds as eloquent as she can.

Gamora raises an eyebrow, and Valkyrie pushes away the thought of how attractive she is. Gamora is unlike anyone she knows, and in another life, maybe they could have been friends. ‘’Why are you doing this?’’ Gamora repeats. ‘’I don’t know anything about you. We could be here for a while. We might as well pass the time talking, if we can’t do anything else.’’

‘’You can’t do anything else,’’ Valkyrie says. ‘’I can drink.’’

‘’At least tell me your name.’’

Valkyrie looks over, only for a second. Gamora is watching her intently, her dark hair waving over her shoulders. She shouldn’t look so attractive, but she is. ‘’I don’t have a name.’’

‘’Everyone has a name,’’ Gamora says.

‘’I’m Scrapper 142,’’ Valkyrie says curtly. ‘’That’s all I am, now.’’

Gamora is silent, for some time, and Valkyrie wonders if she lost interest in the conversation. She wonders why that idea makes something in her sting. She shouldn’t have worried, though; the other woman’s voice echoes through the ship again. ‘’So who were you before?’’

‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about,’’ Valkyrie says.

‘’That’s all you are now, you say. A scrapper. I think you used to be something else, and something happened. So I want to know who you were before.’’

‘’Why do you even care?’’ she responds. ‘’We all got our own issues, so maybe you should try focusing on yours. We’re not friends, we’re not anything, so why should you want to know anything about me?’’

‘’Because I think no one has asked you in a long time,’’ Gamora says, and there’s something tender in her voice. ‘’I come from a place that’s full of broken people, and you remind me of them. Of me, maybe. And here you are, bringing me back to that place because you need to get paid, I’m guessing. To survive another day.’’

‘’You don’t actually want to go back to your home,’’ Valkyrie says as realization dawns on her.

Gamora shrugs. ‘’No. I don’t. And I don’t think you really want to go back to Sakaar, either.’’

Valkyrie doesn’t say anything. Sakaar isn’t home, but it is relief, and a constant that she’s grown used to having. Is she happy, there?

She doesn’t really know what happy feels like, anymore. But she feels numb there, and that’s the next best thing. She doesn’t really care what happens to her, so Sakaar will do just fine. Sakaar’s her future, her place to die, and she has always known that. She’s always accepted that.

‘’I was one of the Valkyrie,’’ she says out loud for the first time in centuries. For the first time since she left Asgard with a heart that had lost the feeling of loyalty and gained the pain of her king’s betrayal.

Gamora nods. It’s obvious she’s heard of the female warriors of Asgard before. ‘’You still are.’’

‘’No,’’ Valkyrie says. ‘’Now I’m the only Valkyrie.’’

~*~

They talk, and Gamora is still endlessly surprised by that fact. Valkyrie is rough, and in a constant state of being tipsy, and more sarcastic than Gamora is used to from people. Still, she’s opened up a bit. Maybe it’s because there’s not much else to do than talk, but she finds that she actually likes her kidnapper.

Of course, Valkyrie’s dark hair and intense eyes don’t help. Gamora hasn’t bothered a lot with relationships, but her heart can’t help but start beating faster whenever Valkyrie sends her a particularly penetrating look.

She knows about the Valkyries, but she can’t remember the details. She knows they’re gone, and that it’s been centuries since they were the sole defenders of Asgard, but she can see that whatever happened to them, it’s broken Valkyrie. There can’t be much else of a reason for her to have been in Sakaar all this time, staying in the place for the lost and found. Lost, yes, but Gamora doubts whether Valkyrie has really found herself ever again.

She wonders if she has found herself. She’d been on a mission for Thanos, when she got captured, but Gamora wanted to leave her adoptive father before that. She hadn’t dared to, but maybe this is a good step.

Except that Valkyrie is leading them towards him, not knowing that Thanos will easily kill her without a second thought for taking Gamora.

Gamora has to control her breathing at the thought. She and Valkyrie aren’t friends, exactly, but there’s something, here. She doesn’t want to go back to Thanos; she doesn’t want Valkyrie to die. What they’re doing is against both of their goals, and Gamora wishes she could tell her to turn back, turn anywhere. She can’t try to escape before they get there, anymore; she wants to help Valkyrie, feels the need of it in her very bones.

She doesn’t think Valkyrie will listen, though.

~*~

‘’I haven’t been completely honest with you,’’ Gamora says, the next day.

Valkyrie turns her head to look at her. ‘’About what?’’ she asks uncertainly. ‘’Gamora?’’

‘’We have to go back,’’ she insists. ‘’I told you before that I was going to do some escape attempts, you’d stop me, all of that. It’s a lie. If we arrive, my father will kill you. It doesn’t matter how fast you are, or how strong you are, Valkyrie. He will kill you, and he will take me. And I didn’t care, but you were right. I don’t want to go back.’’

‘’I can’t go back to Sakaar now,’’ Valkyrie says. ‘’Not without someone else. The Grandmaster likes me, but he doesn’t care that much. If I go back, he’ll evaporate me. Maybe you, too, just out of spite.’’

‘’Listen to me,’’ Gamora says. ‘’Have you ever heard about the Mad Titan?’’

Valkyrie huffs. ‘’That’s a myth.’’

‘’No, he’s not. He’s my father, and everything you heard is true. He’s a madman, Valkyrie. I know you have no reason to believe me – but I trust you, alright? I think you’re more than a scrapper. You’re more than a lackey to the Grandmaster and his schemes. We’re here now, and we’re not with Thanos yet. We can leave, and be unharmed.’’

‘’And then?’’ Valkyrie scoffs. ‘’I set you free somewhere and let you go your merry way?’’

Gamora sighs. She has to get her to believe her. She stands up, and walks toward Valkyrie. The other woman just stares at her, but the controlling device is visible. It’s clear who is in power here. ‘’I’m not heartless,’’ Gamora says. ‘’We’re both slaves, we both were long before we met. We don’t have to be anymore; we could hide. Together, if you want to.’’

She crouches, and Valkyrie’s face is right before hers. It’s close enough for Gamora to count her eyelashes, to feel the warm breath of the other woman ghosting on her face. She hasn’t ever been this close to anyone, and she feels exhilarated, even despite the seriousness of the conversation.

Kissing Valkyrie isn’t something she meant to do, but when she does, something clicks. Valkyrie kisses back, her hands finding their way into Gamora’s hair, and she presses them closer together.

‘’Please,’’ Gamora says, as they break apart, and her voice cracks.

Valkyrie distances herself from Gamora, watching her with those dark eyes. Gamora doesn’t know what to make of the expression on her face.

‘’I can’t,’’ Valkyrie says.

~*~

Gamora expects Valkyrie to be cold and distant, the next day. Instead, Valkyrie talks.

‘’I was in love with someone, when I was still in Asgard,’’ she says. ‘’She loved me back. We were always together, and I thought we always would be. But then the universe showed me how cruel it really is, and how cruel people are. She died, like everyone else did, and only I survived. Love isn’t forever, and it’s definitely not the end to the story. I found Sakaar, where I could be something else instead.’’

‘’A slaver?’’ Gamora says bitterly.

Valkyrie shrugs. ‘’That. And I could be empty. No one would tell me I could be more, or that I could leave, or that I could rebuild myself. No one cared. So I gained favour with the Grandmaster, and here I am.’’

‘’Out of favour, and out of luck,’’ Gamora says. ‘’Maybe it’s time to try it someplace else.’’

Valkyrie smiles grimly. ‘’I thought you were different,’’ Valkyrie says. ‘’You seemed to care. But you only want to find a way to get what you want.’’

‘’I want us to escape,’’ Gamora answers urgently. ‘’Valkyrie, I’m not trying to trick you. I don’t want you to die. You’re – you’re wonderful.’’

‘’You don’t know me.’’

Gamora tries again. ‘’I do know you, because you’re like me. We’re fighters. We’ve lost our families. Thanos killed mine, when I was a child, and took me. He taught me to be this, but I can be more, and so can you. I refuse to go back to him, Valkyrie. Do you really want to go back to the Grandmaster?’’

‘’You don’t understand,’’ Valkyrie says. ‘’I already lost someone I love. Love isn’t convenient, and I don’t want it. I don’t want you acting as if you care about me, I just want to go back to Sakaar and drink enough so that I can sleep without dreaming.’’

Gamora stays silent, for a while. ‘’I do care,’’ she says, eventually.

Valkyrie doesn’t respond, and keeps steering.

~*~

‘’We’re here,’’ Valkyrie says. Gamora, in the seat behind her, wakes with a shudder, looking around with a haunted look in her eyes. Valkyrie suddenly wonders if she really has chosen the right path, and then shakes away her doubt. ‘’This is definitely the darkest corner of the galaxy I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot of dark corners.’’

She isn’t looking for a love story, or redemption. She just wants to go back to her normal, and forget about the beautiful woman that kissed her only recently. She doesn’t want to have options, or fall in love. It’s easier to go back to Sakaar and live in the constant bliss of drunkenness.

She doesn’t ask herself if that’s also the right choice. She doesn’t want choices, after all.

Gamora looks around, a pained expression on her face. ‘’Val, please,’’ she says, and the nickname surprises her. It’s been years since anyone called her anything but ‘Scrapper 142’. She hadn’t realized that she actually missed it, a living, breathing being beside her, knowing her by name

She shakes it off. ‘’This is what you wanted,’’ she says.

Gamora shakes her head. ‘’I never wanted this,’’ she answers. ‘’Your plan isn’t going to work. Please. What do I have to do to get you to turn this ship around?’’

Valkyrie opens her mouth, and she doesn’t know what she’s going to say when a loud noise in the back of the ship surprises them both. She isn’t near any planets, yet, and there aren’t any ships visible on her radar. ‘’What is that?’’ she says, and grabs the closest gun she can reach.

‘’Give me a weapon,’’ Gamora snaps at her. ‘’Val, please.’’

Valkyrie hesitates for a moment, but then hands her companion a knife. She doesn’t know where the trust comes from, but if there’s a choice between whatever just landed on her ship or the woman beside her, she’s always going to choose to side with Gamora.

She doesn’t know why the thought of Gamora being injured makes her uneasy, and it’s hardly the time to think on it.

There isn’t any sound for a few minutes, and it’s almost enough to make Valkyrie lower her gun. That’s exactly when her alarms go off, as the back of her ship is violently ripped open. In a reflex she activates the back shield so that they won’t all get sucked into the dark space, and misses the entrance of the blue-skinned woman, partially made up of mechanical components.

‘’Nebula!’’ Gamora shouts, and that’s when the blue cyborg comes at Valkyrie with a shout and two long blades.

Valkyrie only just manages to evade her and nimbly turns to hit the woman – Nebula? – in the back with her gun. She lets out a shout, but doesn’t go down, and neatly tries to slice open Valkyrie’s belly once again.

Valkyrie manages to kick her and Nebula goes flying behind, but she doesn’t stay down for long, gearing up to attack Valkyrie with a warrior’s cry.

She has just loaded up her weapon, ready to shoot, when Gamora jumps between the two of them, only armed with her knife. Both Valkyrie and Nebula promptly stop, and the three of them stare at each other for a few seconds.

‘’Why are you protecting her?’’ Nebula says, voice dangerously low.

‘’Who is she?’’ Valkyrie protests. Her gun is still loaded and ready to go, but when Gamora shoots her a dark glance, Valkyrie lowers it.

‘’She is bringing me back to Thanos,’’ Gamora says, and Valkyrie immediately sees the lie as what it is; she’s trying to protect Valkyrie. ‘’She’s not a threat to us, Nebula. Please, don’t harm her.’’

Nebula seems to be suspicious, but lowers her weapons as well. ‘’Where were you?’’ she asks.

‘’I’m not certain,’’ Gamora says. ‘’I don’t remember anything after entering the ship of my target – he must have expected something. I woke up on a planet I don’t know, and I was there ever since, until Val found me and offered to take me back.’’

‘’Gamora, I need to talk to you,’’ Valkyrie says, slowly. ‘’In private.’’

Private means as close to the back of the ship as they can get while Nebula stares at them. She looks at the hole in the back of her ship, as they’re only saved by the generation shield. For now, they’re still in space, but she doesn’t know how long they will hold out like this. ‘’Who is she?’’ Valkyrie asks impatiently. ‘’And why is she here?’’

Gamora huffs, looking away. Her long hair trails over her face, and Valkyrie doesn’t know why she carefully brushes it out of Gamora’s face and tucks it behind her ears. None of her feelings seem to be easy to explain, anymore. Gamora only looks at her gently, though, and doesn’t comment on the sudden action.

‘’Nebula is my sister,’’ she explains. ‘’Well, my adoptive sister. Thanos, he takes children, and trains them into assassins. I grew up with her, but we’re not necessarily very close. It’s… complicated.’’

‘’You care about her?’’ Valkyrie presses.

Gamora smiles wryly. ‘’I do,’’ she says. ‘’She’s very loyal to our father, so she will want to bring us to Thanos.’’

Valkyrie has another idea. If she manages to get a shocker on Nebula’s neck, she’ll have yet another contender to bring to the Grandmaster. It’s clear that Nebula would do very well on Sakaar; she has the right attitude for a vicious contender, and it would bring Valkyrie enough money to last for another two months.

She thinks about it, for a moment, lets herself imagine what would happen. She thinks of the betrayal Gamora would wear on her face, how the other woman would refuse to ever speak to her if she brought her and her sister back to fight on Sakaar.

It would be the logical choice to lie to Gamora and bring them back to Sakaar. Valkyrie could go back to being numb instead of alive, and her existence could persist as it always had.

She thinks of Gamora’s smile. I haven’t been completely honest with you, Gamora had told her, and then told her everything. Valkyrie believes her, now; she doesn’t know what has happened to the woman standing opposite her, but she can make some guesses. It’s Valkyrie’s turn to decide if she’s going to be honest or not. To decide if she’s going to make a plan with Gamora and hold her promise, or if she’s going to be what she learnt to be on Sakaar.

Valkyrie holds Gamora’s gaze for a long few seconds. ‘’What is your plan?’’ she asks.

~*~

It takes some team work to get them to a planet where they can fix Valkyrie’s ship. It’s still quite a way to Thanos – fortunately, for their plan – and while the damaged ship is still able to fly for a while, it’s not ideal. Even Nebula had consented to that, and had allowed them to park on a large grimy planet that’s filled with cities with buildings reaching so far in the sky that they’re barely visible and garbage belts the size of several smaller planets. All in all, it’s not a place Gamora means to visit anytime soon again.

Valkyrie walks besides Gamora. Nebula is a few feet before them, snarling at the civilians. They don’t seem very impressed; living in this part of the galaxy means that the civilians are usually also criminals. ‘’Wait,’’ Valkyrie mutters, and takes the device that controls Gamora’s shocker out of her bag. With a swift movement, Valkyrie removes the shocker from Gamora’s neck and puts it back in her pocket. It feels like freedom; Gamora rubs over the skin the little device had been the last few months.

‘’Thank you,’’ she says. Valkyrie just smiles and starts walking again.

‘’I’ll stay with Nebula to find someone to fix the ship,’’ Valkyrie says softly, so that Nebula won’t overhear. ‘’You go buy a new ship. I don’t have enough credits to make both happen, so be quick about buying it – I’m not above stealing, either. That new ship is our ticket out of here.’’

The plan is relatively simply, but it’s the best Gamora had managed to come up with in such a short notice; she’s already glad that Valkyrie has consented to it. She hadn’t been sure she had managed to convince the other woman of her sincerity, but something in their relationship seems to have shifted.

They’ve convinced Nebula that the ship needs to be repaired, so that’s what they’re going to keep pretending. In the meanwhile, Gamora has to sneak off and find a new ship for her and Valkyrie to get away in. The only problem is going to be keeping Nebula unaware of what’s going on.

She trusts Valkyrie though, maybe more than she should. She can’t not, as Valkyrie slips her hand into hers as they’re walking together.

~*~

While Valkyrie is talking to a few engineers, Nebula approaches Gamora. ‘’Sister,’’ she says. ‘’Do you… like that woman?’’

Gamora raises her eyebrows. ‘’I don’t care about her,’’ she lies. As bad as she feels for lying to Nebula, her sister’s loyalties lie with Thanos, and she knows it. Hopefully, one day Nebula will realize what kind of person their father is and join her, but the stakes are too high now. ‘’She is a ride home. She’ll be useful to us, yet. It’ll be the least hassle to go repair her ship.’’

‘’We could steal one and leave her here,’’ Nebula says, focused on Gamora. ‘’Go home without the extra baggage.’’

Gamora stills. ‘’We may need her yet,’’ she says.

‘’Need her?’’ Nebula repeats incredulously. ‘’Are you out of your mind?’’

‘’You don’t know her as I do,’’ Gamora hisses. ‘’She may be of use to Thanos. She’s certainly a better ally than Ronan. And if she’s not, father will deal with her. Just go with her and fix her ship – don’t harm her, Nebula. Thanos will decide her fate, as he does ours. I will get food, so we won’t have to make another stop.’’

Nebula just glares at her, but doesn’t say anything. Gamora knows that pulling the Thanos-card is the surest way to make sure her sister cooperates.

That’s another crisis diverted. Nebula leaves with Valkyrie to fix the ship, and Gamora leaves to find another way to leave the planet.

~*~

Valkyrie doesn’t talk to Nebula as they check the engineers who are actually capable of fixing her ship. Gamora’s sister messed it up pretty badly, and some heavy tools are needed that not everyone on this planet can offer. The problem is that the repair fees of those who can are far higher than anything Valkyrie can even pretend to pay, and they know it.

It’s a buff guy standing behind the counter, his arms crossed. Still, he’s definitely not the biggest guy they’ve seen walking around here, and he’s also not the biggest guy Valkyrie has ever beaten. ‘’Look, you’re going to repair my ship, or we’re going to make sure you’ll have to do some repairs of yourself,’’ she hisses at the guy. He seems unimpressed.

‘’Don’t threaten me, lady,’’ he says. ‘’Trashing my shop will only land you in trouble you don’t want to find, and you don’t have a ship to flee in.’’

‘’Listen to me,’’ Nebula says, suddenly stepping in. She grabs the guy by his neck and lifts him without an effort. ‘’If you don’t fix the ship, I will not hesitate to skin you alive and sell it to one of these weird freak shows outside so we can pay someone else to repair our ship. If you think we need to flee, you need to think again.’’

‘’You make a compelling point,’’ the guys says nervously as he’s up in the air, and Nebula sets him down with a satisfied smirk.

‘’That’s what I thought,’’ she says, and gives Valkyrie a pointed look.

It’s pretty brutal, but it’s also efficient, and she doesn’t see any fault with it as the intimidated repair man follows them to their ship.

~*~

There’s not a lot for them to do, so Valkyrie sits back on the ground as four men work on her ship. Nebula keeps walking around it, and she suspects it makes them do their work a lot faster. Valkyrie is rather impressed with Nebula’s abilities, but it gives her also a nagging sense of unease. Nebula is like a brainwashed soldier; everything she does is with a methodical precision and remorseless practicality that reminds her of some soldiers she’s seen. Some of her Valkyrie sisters had had it too; that drive to do anything for their king. Valkyrie knows that is dangerous, because it made them more into robots than conscious beings with a moral compass of their own.

Gamora isn’t like this, and Valkyrie wonders if she ever was. Gamora does have a code, and she cares, and Valkyrie is only realizing now that she needs someone like that. She needs someone to remind her to be kinder, someone that sees the value of life. Someone who can hold her back, someone who can hold her own.

She desperately wants to go with Gamora, all of a sudden, feels the need to be with the other woman aching in her chest. She isn’t sure how she ever wanted to stop feeling this, because for the first time in centuries, she feels like she’s waking up.

~*~

Gamora isn’t feeling very patient, today. She’s spoken to three salesmen about buying a ship with Valkyrie’s credits, but all of them laughed in her face. It’s taken up the better part of an hour, mainly because the second guy she’d talked to had first spent a long time questioning her about what she wanted before informing her that she would never be able to buy one of his ships.

She’s not some woman to be mouthed off to. She has tried to be patient, but all in all, she’s an assassin, and a very good one at that. She fights for a living and she steals whenever it’s convenient for her. So that’s what she does – she goes back to the second salesman, because he pissed her off the most, and steals a ship.

It’s not a huge ship. He probably won’t miss it. It’s luxurious, though, and big enough for two women to live in comfortably for a while. Gamora takes the wheel, and smiles to herself.

~*~

Valkyrie sees Gamora hurrying back, and meets her halfway, so Nebula won’t see her sister. ‘’Got it?’’ she asks.

Gamora nods, a smile slipping onto her face. Valkyrie finds it hard to breathe, suddenly.

‘’You might want to get on it right now, I had to steal it,’’ she says. ‘’Where did you leave Nebula?’’

‘’She’s screaming at the workmen,’’ Valkyrie says, shrugging.

Gamora tilts her head, her gaze far away as it searches for her sister. ‘’I’m going to miss her, if I’m honest.’’

‘’Heads up,’’ Valkyrie says, and presses a quick kiss to Gamora’s lips. ‘’You never know, you might see her again. She’s a danger, now. She can have my ship, though – I’m sure she’ll find a nice use for it.’’

‘’Tracking and killing us?’’ Gamora suggests.

Valkyrie smiles. ‘’We’ll deal with that if it comes to it,’’ she says. ‘’Where did you leave the ship?’’

~*~

They’re sitting hand in hand, watching the planet grow smaller and smaller from the window.

‘’I feel bad,’’ Gamora says. ‘’I wish she understood. We could have taken her somewhere safe. Now she’s going to tell my father about you, and we won’t be safe.’’

Valkyrie strokes the hand she’s holding. ‘’We’ll be long gone before she can find us,’’ she says. ‘’Nebula will find her own path, but if we want to be safe from the Grandmaster and your father, we’re going to have to disappear.’’

‘’It’s not going to be easy,’’ Gamora tells her, looking at her with heavy eyes. ‘’I’m well-known in some parts of the galaxy, and so are the Valkyrie. We need to find a place somewhere that isn’t familiar with either of us.’’

Valkyrie leans against Gamora’s shoulder. The long hair tickles her, a bit, but it’s soft and nice. She looks forward to playing with it, for some reason. ‘’We have time,’’ she says softly. ‘’And a spaceship.’’

Gamora laughs a little. She could grow used to the sound. ‘’I’m glad you trusted me, Val,’’ she says.

Valkyrie sits up a little bit straighter to kiss Gamora, properly this time. This time, she is not going to back away. ‘’Me too,’’ she just says. Talking about her feelings doesn’t come naturally to her, but judging by Gamora’s soft smile, she understands.

Maybe they can just be what they need for each other, if they’re open about their wants and needs. Valkyrie knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to say it, anymore. She wants to stay with Gamora.

‘’Let’s find a new home,’’ she says.

Gamora’s gaze doesn’t leave hers. ‘’I’d like that,’’ is the answer.

Valkyrie knows she’s honest, and kisses her softly as they fly away together.

[spideyandstark]

This Isn’t X Reader, It’s X People

My fic for @lesbiansassemble‘s writing challenge! Sorry this is so late!!

Pairing: Yukio x Negasonic Teenage Warhead

Words: 918

Warnings: Strong language, Implied homophobia.

Prompt: “I don’t remember.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16097465 

[diggersofgraves]

Hey everyone! So this is a fic for @lesbiansassemble femslash writing challenge. It’s actually pretty late, I’m a terrible person. I don’t write fics because I honestly don’t have the patience for them and I’m kind of insecure in my writing, I feel like it’s always so rushed (which might link back to the whole impatience thing, hmmm), but I decided to give it a try bc I’ve always wanted to and I adore this ship. It’s 1000+ words, so click the keep reading link if y’all wanna give it a try! (Also I just got back from my trip to Mexico & I have to pick up my nephew from school, so I’m just uploading this real quick and leaving. Sorry for any mistakes!)

PROMPT: “I need to tell you something.” Shuri/MJ

There’s this girl I know and I want you to meet her, I think you’ll really like her, Peter had said one day as they walked to class.

At first, MJ was doubtful. She trusted Peter when it came to Decathlon questions and anything related to science, but he was also secretive about his personal life.

She had wanted to know where he met the girl, but he withheld all answers, as usual. It was a usual routine in their friendship. The only person who knew all of Peter’s ins and outs was probably Ned. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t sometimes jealous about that friendship.

So yeah, sue her for being very skeptical when her friend had told her to meet this girl in some park, holding a dumb green rose he had made for her on a Sunday evening. She didn’t know why she still agreed to Parker’s schemes. (Yes she did, she was lonely.)

That was how she met Shuri. Shuri, the most beautiful girl MJ had ever seen. One of the smartest (read: genius) and wittiest girl she’d ever met.

Shuri held a form of elegance that MJ had only ever seen in movies, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Her elegance was accompanied by a teasing nature and an overall casual atmosphere. MJ didn’t know how she did that, but Shuri was definitely the fantasy girl she had dreamed about in middle school.

The day at the park had been their first of many dates and when they made it official, MJ made sure everyone she knew (which, admittedly, wasn’t too many people), was made aware of her girlfriend. The thought alone made MJ smile throughout the long school days and club meetings.

There were two downsides though.

MJ wasn’t dumb. In fact, she liked to pride herself in the opposite. The first problem was, just like Peter, Shuri never talked about her personal life. It would be a fairly obvious guess to say that whatever Peter liked to keep private was what Shuri liked to keep private. In fact, she would bet her entire book collection in saying that they had probably met through all their secrecy.

And while Shuri had never told her, MJ knew her girlfriend was rich. Or was, at the very least, ‘well off’, as the adults liked to call it. She had no idea how that tied in to Peter’s life because he definitely wasn’t even close to ‘well off’, but that was a question for another day.

The second problem was that Shuri travelled. A lot. Sometimes MJ wouldn’t see her girlfriend for weeks at a time because her family was off in some other country doing some important business.

That didn’t really bother MJ as much as the first problem though. She hated being left out. She was left out of things for such a long time in her life, feeling the same bite of rejection from her girlfriend seemed to be 10x worse.

It might have put a small strain in her relationship. At least on her behalf. She doubted that Shuri had noticed.

“I’m going to the UK with my brother next week.” Shuri commented on their regular stroll through the park.

Every other day after school, Shuri would wait for MJ at the park they first met. They would stroll around for a while. Sometimes other plans arose, like the arcade or a movie. Other times they’d go back to MJ’s house. It varied from day to day.

“What for?” MJ asked- as if she didn’t know what the answer would be. ‘Family stuff.’ Shuri would say. Or ‘Personal Business’. And then they would drop it.

“Family stuff.” Shuri expectedly replied.

MJ hummed and nodded, allowing a silence to fall between them. She could feel Shuri looking at her from besides her, feel as her hand fidgeted in her own grasp and then she heard a sigh.

Shuri stopped walking besides MJ.

MJ looked back at her girlfriend, who looked conflicted. And kind of lost, something MJ had never seen on her girlfriend before. As she’d said before, Shuri was a genius, she seemed to hold the answer to everything.

It took a few seconds before Shuri began talking again. “How long have we been dating?”

It was a dumb question. Not in a ‘How do you not know how long we’ve been together?’ way, but because MJ knew for a fact that Shuri had a planner where she marked their anniversary and planned the most outrageous outings (Shuri had wanted to take her to Rome two months ago. MJ had to draw a line somewhere.)

Still, MJ decided to humor her, “About eleven months. Our one year is in two weeks. Why?”

Shuri nodded, “Okay. You know, I’ve never had a girlfriend before? Or dated anyone, really. You’re my first anything, so I’m not really sure when the time to do this is right.”

“Wow, wait.” MJ put in immediately. “You’re not gonna pull a proposal right? Because I can tell you right here and right now that those usually don’t happen until we’re both legally adults. And have been seeing one another for a few years.”

Not that she didn’t want to marry Shuri. She did, but at a later time. Not the time to think about that. She was still in high school.

Shuri laughed, “No! No, none of that. I’m not that unexperienced. I just…” She hesitated before continuing, “I need to tell you something.”

MJ almost expected a break-up. Almost. But that wouldn’t make any sense. Things were going great, apart from that one-sided strain on her side, but she didn’t even think that other girl had noticed.

“I know you’ve been getting kind of annoyed whenever I don’t tell you things. I want to, I really want to tell you, but I never know when the time is right.”

Okay, so maybe she had noticed.

MJ squeezed Shuri’s hand and smiled at her, “Yeah, I get kind of annoyed, but if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to tell me. Just as long as you’re not doing anything that’ll put yourself in danger.”

As much as she wanted the ins on her girlfriends personal life, she didn’t want it forced out of her because she thought that MJ was annoyed. Which was true, but still.

“No, I want to tell you. I just don’t know where to start.” Shuri paused. “What do you know about Wakanda?”

MJ startled. Wakanda? “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer.” Shuri pushed on.

MJ knew about Wakanda, yes, it was all over the news about a year and a half ago.

“It seems… cool? I know it was on the news more than a year ago. Everyone thought they were some dirt poor village or whatever, but turns out they’re really advanced. Like, Tony Stark doesn’t stand a chance.”

Shuri laughed once more, “Yeah, he stands no chance. Anything else?”

“Hm. They’re still pretty secretive. The king- T’Challa comes out on the news all the time. And I know there’s the old Queen, his mother, and a princess, but no one knows anything about them. What does this have to do with anything?”

“If I weren’t so good at hiding things, I’d call you oblivious.” Shuri joked, “But what if I told you-”

She paused, as if thinking over what to say.

MJ’s heart beat a bit faster than normal. She wasn’t dumb. There were clues now, things she could connect to one another, but she didn’t want to. She wanted Shuri to tell her.

The other girl continued, “What if I said I know the princess?”

MJ stopped in her thoughts. Huh, okay, maybe her mind went too far in her assumption, but close enough?

“I would tell you to not leave me for a princess.” MJ responded, partially joking, partially serious.

“And… what if I told you I was the princess?”

Okay, so maybe MJ’s mind wasn’t that crazy, but thinking it and hearing it from her girlfriends mouth were two totally different things. MJ honestly didn’t know what to think.

“I think… I think I need to sit down.” Was her reply. She didn’t bother looking for the nearest bench. She sat exactly where they stood. In the middle of the path in the park. What to think? What was there to think?

MJ read a lot. From fantasy books to non-fiction to romance. She tried to think back to any book she might have read titled, What to Do When Your Girlfriend of a Year Tells You She’s a Princess & Other Stories. Strangely enough, she couldn’t think of any. Guess it didn’t happen too often.

She hadn’t realized that Shuri had knelt besides her, rambling on, trying to explain herself until MJ looked up at her.

“- and I would have told you months ago, but my mother said I need to be wary of the relations I bring into the nation as well because of the whole princess thing, which I have to admit, I kind of agree on, but it was never a personal thin-”

“Hey.” MJ cut her off. Shuri stopped and stared nervously back at her girlfriend. “I have no idea what to say. I have no clue how to react. But this doesn’t change anything. We can figure anything out as we go.”

Shuri smiled and stood  up, offering her hand to MJ who was still sitting on the floor, criss-cross apple-sauce and all. MJ accepted her hand and smiled back at her girlfriend.

The butterflies she felt whenever she was around Shuri months ago were long gone. Recently, a new feeling took place. It was still a kind of warmth, but not the same. It felt safe. Familiar. With her, she knew they could figure out anything as they went.

“I have to tell you something else.�� Shuri said.

“Am I going to have to sit on the floor again?”

“Probably not.” Shuri smiled.

“Okay then, shoot.”

The princess’ smiled widened as she squeezed MJ’s hand. “I love you.”

MJ did have to sit on the floor again. Longer than before because the warmth that exploded within her and on her face couldn’t have been healthy.

However, after a few moments of having her head shoved into her hands, MJ stood up and kissed her girlfriend, but not before muttering, “I love you too.”

When they parted, a thought occurred to MJ, “Wait, how the fuck does Parker know the princess of Wakanda?”

Shuri smiled and pulled her to continue their walk. “Ask him.” Was all she said.

She would ask him, MJ decided, but another day. Nothing else mattered much when she was with her girlfriend.

[diegclila]

ok so i wrote this for @lesbiansassemble‘s femslash writing challenge. I’m not good with deadlines but i think i’m almost on time ^^'. (This is no excuse but i had most of it written for weeks and ended up deleting it by mistake, which made me very discouraged, so i’m sorry.) I’m not a big/good writer so bear with me and this story. It’s gonna be mutli chaptered but i can only post the first one today.

Since i’m posting only the first part, i thought i’d give a small summary : Natasha needs help with something from her past, help of a different kind. It just so happens that Clint knows a person with the right abilities, in more than only one way. 

pairing: wanda maximoff/natasha romanoff

word count: 1008

i’ll be posting it on ao3 later maybe :)

Clairvoyance

Wanda didn't lie to people.

Not all the time, at least.

Not really. She told them what they wanted to hear. Was it always entirely accurate? Maybe not.

But she knew how it went. She'd been there, she'd done that and she'd learned that no one cared about the truth.

She shuffled the cards.

The balding middle-aged man was watching her, eyes decidedly focused on her fingers.

Slowly, one by one, she laid the cards on the small glass table between them.

He leaned froward slightly, eyes squinted to get a better view of the draw in the dimly lit room.

Once she was done, he looked up at her, mouth hanging open just a bit and pupils shining with excitement and in expectation.

With the same slow pace, she placed her fingers on the middle card. She marked a pause, for theatricality.

People wanted to hear what they wanted to hear. It didn't matter, the truth, because it wasn't why her clients consulted her.

She turned the card around in a fly movement, earning a gasp from the man and uncover the tower.

——————

She didn't know where she was.

The night was falling, obscurity was taking over the streets and she was lost in this goddamn city.

Natasha sighed loudly, for herself because there was no one around. She reached inside the deep pocket of her coat, one more time. She felt her phone, hesitated, grabbed it anyway.

She tried pressing the button again.

Nothing happened.

She'd had this fantasy of throwing it on the sidewalk, watching it explode in tiny little pieces against the concrete, but it was a gift from Sam and she definitely couldn't do that.

She nicely put it back in her pocket and picked up a small piece of paper instead. She unfolded it, tried to smoothen it, gave up and took a few steps toward a street lamp.

Under the orange-ish light, she read the scribbled words for the umpteenth time. A name and an address, in Clint's godawful handwriting: 306th Helen's Street, Wanda Maximoff.

She read it again, for good measure, hoping maybe for some kind of revelation, but she was reaching the limits of her patience.

"Whatever." She said  aloud to the empty lane, and she started walking straight forward. Screw it for today, all she wanted now was to find a hotel and sleep until tomorrow. Then she'd take the first train and go back home, watch a movie with Sam and Bucky and forget about this day forever.

She was a little lost in her thoughts when she took a sharp turn right and almost collided with a tall, large man. He dropped his wallet in surprise. She promptly stopped to pick it up and hand it to him with an apology. Of course, because it was that kind of day, he glared at her and turned around, grumbling in his chin.

Some other time, it would have meant nothing to her. She wouldn't even have given it a second thought, but tonight, Natasha was tired. She watched him disappear slowly in the obscurity, anger and frustration growing inside of her like branches and stunning her into place. She clamped her fists, the sting of her nails digging into her palms, also clearing her mind and keeping her from following the man and beating the shit out of him. 

She took a deep breath, tried to refocus.

That's when she realized.

The man was coming out of a building, not at all different from the rest of the street, but above the massive entrance door, glowing in the light of the street lamp,  three digits detached from the grey walls: 3, 0 and 6.

You gotta be kidding me she thought, as her eyes went through the list of the building occupants on the right of the porch.

Slowly, she pressed the ivory button for apartment 26, the one that said 'Wanda Maximoff, psychic and medium, consultation on reservation only.'

———————-

Wanda tucked the tarot game in a small box that she stowed in a drawer.

Then she sighed and picked up a broom. The man had let dirt all over the floor. Next time, she thought, she would force him to wipe his dirty boots, even if she had to stay in front of the door with him and watch. The old wooden floor was damaged and not easy to clean up and she needed the place to stay presentable. 

She took a moment to rearrange the pillows and blankets, she blew all the candles one by one. She usually liked doing that, watching the little flames and the smell of the wax, but now she just wanted to shower, eat and pass out in bed. She was about to go upstairs to do just that when the bell rang.

She froze for a second. Then she looked, by habit, at the grandfather clock against the wall in the back, the one that hadn't worked in years and that was perpetually stuck on 2:37. 

It had to be at least 9pm.

The idea crossed her mind of ignoring the bell, but it rang a second time, and a third.

"Ok, ok, i'm coming." she muttered. She crossed the room in a hurry and stayed by the door. 

"Good evening. Sorry but the consultations are over for today." she said in the intercom, hoping that the person would get the hint and leave.

"Are you Miss Maximoff?" the person on the other side asked. She was a woman, not one of Wanda's clients.

"Yes. But if you want an appointment you're gonna have to call back tomorrow."

"I'm not here for an appointment. Miss Maximoff, I need your help. Please."

Wanda opened her mouth to reply. Look, it's late. Come back tomorrow for whatever it is you need. Even better, book a fucking appointment like everyone else. 

But the woman spoke again in the intercom before she had time to get the words out.

"Clint Barton gave me your address. He said you could help."

[changelingart]

Why Don’t You Get Your Ass Down Here And Love Me

A/N: a while ago, I entered a writing competition that @lesbiansassemble created to promote more sapphic fanfiction within the Marvel Fandom. I entered to write a Trish Walker/Karen Page fanfiction using the prompt, “You’re distracting me.”  Here’s the final piece, set post-defenders, hope you like it! (Title from “Supergirl” by Gina Young)

Trish Walker had a mental list that she kept running titled, “Perks of Being Karen Page’s Girlfriend.” So far this list was in the hundreds, and included things like “being able to bitch about my Powered Vigilante Friend to someone who gets it,” and “I’ve always got a partner who’s willing to spar with me” However, the most unlikely, and quickly proving to be Trish’s favorite perk was most definitely that she had someone to pull information-gathering all-nighters with. Before she was dating Karen, finding information for Trish Talk had been done on her own, or with Jessica popping in and out at sporadic hours, dropping some files on her kitchen island, and then walking out before Trish could comment about her general state of disrepair. Though she supposed, that Jessica had seemed to be injured much less as of late, and that was one thing that Trish was incredibly thankful for. For the first time in a while, with Matt, Luke, and Danny, she wasn’t the only one watching out for her sister anymore, and for the first time in years, Trish could devote herself to, well, herself.

This was proving to be a difficult adjustment, though, and had flung herself into work deeply, just to have a distraction. Karen seemed to get that, and as time had gone, the two woman had opened up to each other more. Karen, for the first time since she had met Matt and Foggy, had begun to feel safe in Hell’s Kitchen. The “dark corners” didn’t feel so dark without evil ancient cults, or kingpins, or mind-controlling self-serving assholes. She felt almost relaxed. She loved writing for The Bulletin, and she loved  being with someone whose passion met her own, who wasn’t divided between methods of bringing the worst of the worst down.

Which leads into now, where the two women were sat at Trish’s kitchen table, each with a pile to themselves, as they researched a slew of allegations about a high-profile pharmaceutical company CEO who had been embezzling money. Both Trish and Karen loved their work, but to be honest, corporate crime like this was actually kind of boring. Karen was nearly falling asleep on her keyboard, and Trish was on her second pot of coffee that night.

“Do you ever sit and think, ‘hey I should quit my day job, learn to make soaps and candles, and move upstate to run an alternatives medicine shop  to make a living?’” Karen said, dropping her head directly into the keyboard of her now powered-down computer, thankful she had the foresight to realize that it was getting too late to stare at a screen for much longer.

“Oh, almost constantly,” Trish said, looking up lovingly across the table at her girlfriend’s tired face. “That daydream is right up there with running off and becoming a high-profile hitwoman who has a high moral code, but is still known for her ruthless murder nonetheless. My two most common fantasies when things begin to go wrong.”

“Well, if I quit my job, there would be no one to write about the high-profile and sexy details of all your jobs, so maybe stick to the alternative medicines scam with me?” Karen jokes, grabbing Trish’s hand from across the table.

“You really want to start a scam business with me?” Trish asks, her voice dripping with mock excitement.

“ I mean, it’s the most grand gesture I can think of.”

Trish groaned in agony. “Ugh, stop being so cute and wonderful, you’re distracting me.”

“I’m distracting you? You’re distracting me, with you cute and wonderful face.” Karen joked.

Trish sighed, and closed her own laptop, and begun to gather up her papers. “Can we both agree that we’re not getting any more work done tonight, and it’s probably time to throw the towel in and get to sleep?”

Karen followed suit, throwing files into her Daily Bulletin canvas bag to take back to work on Monday. “Yeah, you have a point there. I’m too tired to do anything more, so it’s time to sleep. I haven’t slept properly in days, if I’m honest”

Trish walked over to her girlfriend, and wrapped her arms around her waist. Karen, blushed slightly and smiled, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s neck and leaning in close, their foreheads touching.

“Hey, it’s okay. You need sleep. You’ve been working so hard lately, and you just need to relax, okay?” Trish said with sincerity.

Karen leaned up and connected their lips, smiling. Trish moved her hands to either side of her girlfriend’s face and deepened the kiss. When they finally parted, both were breathless and lightheaded, certain that they had never made a better decision than meeting one another.

“Yeah, I definitely could use some sleep”

“C’mon, it’s time to get your ass into bed, then.” Trish said, grabbing Karen’s hand, and beginning to head to her bedroom.

“Yes Ma’am,” Karen said, with a Snort. Trish smiled, and thought to herself, that even if she never got any work done from here on out, there’s no distraction she’d rather have by her side.

[legowolas]

Forever and Always

Summary: Dottie and Whitney get married. That's about it.

Ships: Frostwood

Characters: Whitney Frost, Dottie Underwood, Peggy Carter, Angie Martinelli

Author's notes: Written for @lesbiansassemble 's 10k femslash challenge! Idk how well this is written, it was very last minute (I procrastinate a lot, also, I hated the original fic I wrote so I had to scrap it and rewrite it lmao), and this is my first time writing for these two, and they hardly have any screen time together, so I haven't really figured out what I want their dynamic to be yet, but I tried dksfsjfs

It starts just after the vows bc I hate feeling emotion writing emotional scenes. Dottie is all soft at the end bc she's tired and probably a little bit tipsy (on that topic, there might be a slight trigger warning for alcohol). Modern AU, but not the one I normally write in for Agent Carter.

Thanks to @goddesspeggycarter for betaing this!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of Dottie’s wedding. Her, and her brand new wife, Whitney, had just taken their vows, and were having stuff thrown at them. Not the best wedding tradition, Dottie thought, but, hey, at least it was glitter.

Dottie spotted at least 3 people who were crying, they were weak (and probably drunk), she thought, as Whitney stood on her tip-toes to kiss Dottie’s cheek. Dottie grinned, fondly at the other woman, before kissing her forehead.

“Should we get some food now?” Whitney asked.

“Yes. Getting married really gets you in the mood for some fancy cuisine swimming in ketchup,” Dottie responded.

“You’re disgusting,” Whitney laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh, that’s a shame, cause now you’re stuck with me forever!”

Whitney couldn’t help the grin that crept along her face.

“Come on, let’s go get you your fancy cuisine swimming in ketchup.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dottie poured an amount of ketchup that was not socially acceptable to be on anything onto her caviar. Whitney wrinkled her nose. “I still don’t know why you do that.”

Dottie shrugged. “Tastes good.”

Whitney was a lesbian, and therefore had no knowledge of cooking (A/N: if ur a lesbian and a really good cook pls don’t come after me you’re valid), but even she knew that ketchup was not supposed to go in caviar. She rolled her eyes.

“So, how does it feel being married?” Peggy chirped, looking over at the two women.

Whitney smiled. “Good… to be honest, as a child, I never saw myself getting married. Of course, that could just be because, you know, I thought that I would have to marry a man, but now, this is the best day of my life.”

Dottie leaned over, to give her a kiss on the nose. “What she said.”

Peggy grinned at them. “I’m glad you're having a good day. Truth be told, before you came into the picture, we thought Dottie would never settle down.”

“Oh, I’m not settling down. I’ve just got a partner in crime now, right, Whitney?”

Whitney nodded, but looked slightly apologetic, anyway. “I’ll try and make sure she doesn’t do anything too illegal.”

Dottie looked betrayed, and Peggy laughed. “The effort is appreciated. Alright, I’ve got to make sure Howard, Angie, and Jack don’t get too drunk and destroy something, you two have a good day!” she said, getting up.

“You too, Peggy.”

“Bye, Peg!”

Dottie turned to Whitney. “Wanna go dance?”

“We can’t just leave, there are probably more people who wanna talk to us.”

“It's our wedding, we can do whatever we want.”

Whitney’s face lit up. “It’s true!”

“And besides, I’m sure there’s some people at the dance floor too.”

“You’re right, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They danced for a few minutes, Whitney’s head resting on Dottie’s chest, idly trash talking everyone’s outfits, when…

“Dot!” they heard a voice slur, before Angie crashed into Dottie, for a hug, clearly drunk.

“Dot, you, you, you’re married,” she cried, laying hear head on Dottie’s shoulder. She looked amused, but uncomfortable, and Whitney was laughing her head off.

“I sure am,” Dottie remarked, attempting to detach Angie.

Somehow, even drunk, Angie managed to take the hint, and stumbled over to Whitney instead, who wasn’t as averse to physical contact.

“You are so pretty,” Angie pointed out, holding Whitney's face. “Thank you for being such a great girlfriend- no, wife!! You’re her wife!” She paused for a few seconds, as if she forgot what she was going to say. “For, for being a good wife to Dottie,” she lowered her voice, “she’s actually just a softie.”

“Hey!” Dottie exclaimed, blushing a little.

“Oh, I, I think Peg’s lookin’ for me, I think, think I gotta go,” she stumbled off, into the crowd of people.

“Well, she seems…”

“Drunk?” Dottie offered.

“Precisely.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was around 10:30. Everyone else had left - well, except Jarvis, who was combing through the party for anything anyone might have forgot - and the newlyweds were picking at leftovers, at the table. They’d rented the venue for the next morning, too, so they didn’t have to worry about clean-up while they were tired.

Dottie happily snuggled deeper into Whitney's arms, who was finishing up the leftover cake (come on, there was only one piece left, anyway).

“Whitney?” she asked, her voice sounding sleepy, and her lids looking heavy.

“Mm?”

“How many babies do you want?”

“How many do you want?”

“Uh… a lot.”

“Why?”

“The more we have, the more formidable our forces will be, if we ever need to battle.”

Whitney laughed, petting Dottie’s hair.

“I like it when you laugh. Actually, no, I like it when you do everything.”

“Well, that’s why you married me, isn’t it?”

“I suppose. Do you… do you like me too?”

Whitney adjusted her position a little, so she could face her wife.

“I like you more than I can even measure. And I spent a lot of my time doing math.

“Oh… that’s good.”

“Come on, let’s go home. I’ll ask Jarvis to give us a ride.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They fell asleep that night knowing that the future held only more love, maybe some babies, and tax benefits.

[blackberryblindside]

The People We Become

So this is part of @lesbiansassemble 's 10k follower writing challenge! This is the first chapter of six, three of which are already on ao3. This does mention death, but in a hypothetical way, there is no actual character death in the story. I hope you enjoy!

1.

The first time May asked Peggy to marry her, it was 4.15 a.m. The then clear October night sky was devoid of any stars for May to wish on, and she, not for the first time, cursed the bright lights that spilled from Manhattan into her little Forest Hills apartment.

She searched the skyline for a flash of her nephew, a boy on a mission to save the people of Queens in all the little ways. Peter was supposed to be home more than four hours ago, and when she didn’t hear the floorboards creaking as she came from her afternoon shift at the hospital, she had started to worry. She was off the clock at midnight on Fridays and got home by 12.45 from the medical centre, the one in Kew Gardens only a few subways stops away from her bed and her nephew.

Peter usually waited for her to come home while in May's room, on his laptop while sitting on her bed or using the first aid kit tucked into her nightstand. He always stayed up until she was home, and since he had turned thirteen a snack Peter prepared was always sitting on the kitchen counter for her as she laid her bag down and said hello to her nephew, who would have already come bounding around the corner to greet her.

There used to be something Ben made, too, but his place on the counter had been empty for two and a half years now. May had long decided the spot would stay empty.

But tonight there had been no food, no greeting, no nephew almost-asleep in the centre of her bed, curled up in a ball like he was trying to protect himself. There was just silence, an empty apartment that sounded exactly like the one from her nightmares, the ones where Peter didn’t come home and the news was filled with a spider who didn’t get back up.

So she called him once, twice, one-hundred-sixty-six times until the clock struck two-ten and she sat her bag on the counter, pacing as she had since the creeping feeling that something was wrong had hit, worrying at her bottom lip like she had since she confirmed it.

Her fist voicemail was coherent. “Peter, please, call me. I need to know you’re okay. I love you, I hope to god you’re not hurt. Please, please, please be okay. I need you to be okay.”

She hesitated. “Scratch that, I need you to be alive.” Her voice broke just as the recording ended, a panicky sound that caught in her throat sharply.

The thirty after that devolved, the last being a plead to Peter caught in her sobs.

Soon his voicemail box filled and she was left calling without being able to say a word.

After calling Tony Stark and his assistant in turns until two-forty and getting no response, she sat down.

She finally gave up calling, the phone in her hand near dying.

She checked the news and heard nothing but a story about an attack in Oslo and a local string of robberies already thwarted by Spider-man.

She couldn't check hospitals, couldn't call the police and ask if they knew where Peter was without mentioning that he was last seen wearing a super suit with a glaringly obvious spider on the chest.

So she said nothing, just plugged her phone in and waited for it to ring, staring at the dark sky and hoping for a shooting star in red and blue.

At 3:36 someone rang the downstairs doorbell, the buzz pulling May out a dizzying vision of Peter on the ground with blood pooling around him, a bullet wound just where Ben’s had been. She immediately rang the person in, not even stopping to think it could be someone other than Peter.

She knew that if she did, it would become all the more apparent that it couldn't be. Peter had keys, and if his bag had been stolen he wouldn't be asking to be buzzed in as Spider-Man. That's what he used the fire escape for.

May knew that if Peter wasn't picking up, her late-night visitor had to do with him. She wasn't so naïve as to assume the visit was a friendly one, and yet she hoped beyond hope, waiting for the sound of any familiar footsteps.

When she heard a familiar clicking noise coming from an unfamiliar set of footsteps coming down the silent hallway and a knock that was too abrupt to be Peter’s rather silly one, she grabbed a kitchen knife from the utensil drawer and opened the door quickly, the knife by the person's throat before the hinges had fully swung open.

It was a woman with dark hair and dark red lipstick, startled slightly by the blade but with a glint in her eye that said she had seen worse that a skinny lady with a steak knife. She spoke. “I'll get right to the point. Peter is alive and recovering now. He will be fine. I assumed you wanted to hear that before any explanations I could ever give.”

Relief flooded through May like a Rockaway beach wave at the woman’s matter-of-fact declaration and she lowered the knife to her side, nearly dropping it as she relaxed tension that had been building for hours. “Thank you.” She stepped aside, gesturing into the quiet apartment. The dark-haired woman walked inside, the click of her heels against the floor now reassuring instead of ominous.

May lead them into the kitchen, pulling out two cups. “Water, juice, soda, or something stronger?”

The dark-haired woman smiled, the lipstick parting way for bright white, if slightly crooked teeth, and a pretty smile. “Whiskey, if you've got it.” Her British accent was soothing, but there was something odd about it. She was obviously from southern England, but May couldn't discern further, and she was usually good at that sort of thing.

May put the plastic New York Mets cup half-full of whiskey in front of the woman and kept the Hannukah mug for herself. “Thank you again. I got home and he wasn't here. I tried calling but no one answered and I was in a frenzy.” She took a long sip from her mug, letting the burn of the whiskey in her throat soothe her frayed nerves.

“When did you get home?” The woman asked, mimicking May with a slow sip of her drink.

“12.40 or so? It's all been kind of a blur. I noticed he wasn't here and immediately went into protective aunt mode.” As the almost-shock wore off May was starting to realise how tired and hungry she was, hunger vying for her attention as her eyelids grew ever-so-slightly heavy. She noticed the woman furrowed her brow slightly at her declaration of 12.40, like she had to quickly convert it in her head. Military time, May guessed.

“You haven't eaten, have you?” The woman frowned, tracing the rim of her cup and taking notice of the bag still on the counter and the dirty scrubs sticking out. The apartment was cozy but tidy, the little mess she had created seeming out of place in the well maintained kitchen.

May shook her head, leaning back in her seat for a moment, trying to muster the energy to get up and grab whatever was in the sparsely-filled fridge. “Peter always lays out a snack for me, so when it wasn't there I started to worry.”

The woman stood up and looked at May, obviously thinking the little indication of Peter and May’s dynamic sweet if the upward twitch of her painted lips was any indication. “I'll fix you something, if I'm not being presumptuous. Be warned though, army food is sort of ingrained in me by now, so it may just end up tasting slightly boiled.” She smiled now, and May grinned back, top tired to protest.

“That would be really nice of you…” May was going to end with the woman’s name but realised she had never asked, too busy with her own relief to notice. “I don't know your name. Sorry about that. I'm May Parker, if you didn't already know, though I presume you did.” May grinned almost cheekily, watching the woman as she rummaged through the fridge, black heels accompanied by a black knitted sweater and white pants. She was very put together, and the only colour came from her lipstick, her dark hair hiding all but her jaw from May’s view as she leaned against the back of her wooden chair.

The woman straightened with a loaf of bread, cheddar cheese, tomatoes and vegetarian bacon cradled in her right arm; all things May hadn’t realized were in her refrigerator. “I'm Peggy, Peggy Carter. I work with the Avengers, and when I realized that Peter was in surgery and no one could tell me if his guardians knew whether he was okay, I came straight away. This is the kind of thing you do in person; I've given people enough army condolence letters and watched enough families see each other again to know that even news that someone is fine can be a bit of a whirlpool of emotions.”

“Well thank you, Peggy. It's nice to meet you. This is the second time you've mentioned the army, can I ask where you were stationed?” May was curious as to how this woman could have fought in the more recent wars. She was young, twenty-something, maybe thirty, but her posture and mannerisms spoke of a long service.

Peggy froze slightly, curls bouncing as her hand hesitated over the pan, grilled cheese poised to be placed delicately. She considered something, looked at May, and seemed to decide. “A lot of places. Mostly London and Southern France, but I spent a lot of time on the German line after that.”

May hesitated, wracking her brain for war in the last fifteen years this woman could have participated in. She opened her mouth to ask, but Peggy cut her off, answering her question before she could come to the correct conclusion. “World War II. Long story.”

May gaped for a moment, and then considered this. Her nephew was part spider and he was friends with a nerdy scientist who could turn into a ten-foot green neanderthal and a god with a hammer that was apparently like an impossibly strong magnet to the center of the earth to everyone but him, as Peter had put it after first meeting Thor. This wasn’t all that strange, comparatively. “Well now it makes sense that you used to boil everything.”

Peggy let out a laugh, looking back at May in surprised delight. She wasn’t used to having that declaration replied to with such nonchalance. “Yes, this century is much better at making food edible, if not necessarily more nutritious.”

May chuckled, and drummed her fingers against the table once. “Didn't McDonald’s exist in the 40s? You may have to tell me that story one day, just to explain where we went wrong.” She smiled at Peggy, who raised an eyebrow at the suggestion they should talk another time after this, liking the boldness that took. This woman, May Parker, was already under Peggy’s skin, and apparently the sentiment was returned.

As Peggy set a plate with a sandwich and a half in front of both May and herself, she smiled, taking notice of the way May’s slender fingers brushed her own gently. She had hands made for caring. “I guess I will. It's a pretty long list. But for now, a good sandwich for a bad night.” She said.

May thanked her, biting into her grilled cheese with tomato and veggie bacon with gusto. She groaned as the flavor hit her tongue and closed her eyes, the food satiating her hunger as well as helping to ground her. It was delicious. As she swallowed, May looked at Peggy, who had been watching her reaction happily. “Please, will you marry me? Cook for me every day and keep me from putting a knife to another guest’s throat.”

Peggy let out a loud laugh, quieting herself when she realised it was already past four. She was usually more conscientious of things like that, but the woman across from her was intoxicating and the early-morning air was making her brave in all the ways she wasn't used to being. “I don't know, the knife thing was kind of charming.”

[claracivry]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Lady Loki/Darcy Lewis, Darcy Lewis & Jane Foster & Loki Characters: Lady Loki - Character, that genderbent Loki for y'all, Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster, mentions of Thor and Steve, but not much - Character Additional Tags: Fluff, Alternate Universe - Hospital, darcy is a nurse, Loki is a Nuisance, Also a doctor at some point, Jane is also a doctor, No Angst, sweet and fluffy, some bad words, Developing Relationship Summary:

For lesbiansassemble femslash challenge in tumblr.

Darcy is a nurse. Loki is a trickster/goddess/Avenger. They have.... a thing. A thing that's becoming more thingy as time passes.

Making out in a hospital, done with all of it bff Jane and typical Loki shenanigans feature.

For @lesbiansassemble femslash writing challenge thing!!! Hope you like!!!

[theotpauthor]

This is my story for @lesbiansassemble 10K Writing Challenge! I had the prompt “I’m gay” for Shuri x MJ

“I’m gay,” MJ announced solemnly, staring intently at the laptop screen in front of her and determinedly looking at neither Ned nor Peter, despite it being Peter’s room. No one said anything. “I am so fricken gay.”

“I thought you were bi?” Ned asked, briefly glancing up from Peter’s Spiderman suit to ruin her faux serious moment. Peter attempted to take the chance to steal it back, but Ned yanked it back protectively. Peter sighed.

“Look at her,” MJ moaned, touching the screen now. “Look at her and tell me she’s not gorgeous.”

“Princess Shuri?” Peter asked, not bothering to look over. He didn’t say ‘again’ but it was heard all the same. “Yeah, she’s pretty, but have you seen some of the research papers of hers Wakanda has been releasing? They’re astounding—there’s so much stuff I haven’t even thought of—”

“She’s perfect,” MJ announced breathily, completely agreeing but in a way that implied she hadn’t heard a word he had said.

“Wow,” Ned cut in. “And I thought a mooning Peter was bad.”

“I could kill you and no one would suspect me,” MJ replied, her voice not changing. Ned and Peter, who had grown accustomed to this, reacted nonchalantly.

“What’s the article about?” Peter asked.

“Some cultural exchange program she’s in charge of. It’s for poor people. I’m gonna apply.”

“You live in a mansion.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m gonna put Peter’s name on the form and then invite myself as his plus one.”

“What?” Peter asked, squeaking. There was a moment of panic where he wasn’t sure if she was bluffing or not—it was hard to read her tells sometimes—and then the panic soared as she pulled up the form and started signing his name for him. “What? MJ!”

He scrambled out of his chair, only he had been sitting in it backwards and the seam of his jeans caught for a few precious seconds before he fell over completely, landing awkwardly with the chair beneath him. He scrambled up, frantic, and tackled MJ before he could think better of it.

“You didn’t think of me?” Ned pouted, picking the leg of the costume from the ground before it was tangled into the wrestling. There were several thudding sounds. “Wow MJ. I’m hurt.”

“Go. Cry. Then,” MJ grunted, throwing herself at the computer only for Peter to pull her legs back down.

“No way!” Peter cried. “I don’t want Shuri’s first idea of Spiderman as some random poor kid!”

“Don’t be classist!” MJ replied, struggling to pull his hands off her legs with her half-fallen angle, but helped by the fact that Peter was flat on his stomach. “And you wouldn’t even go as Spiderman! You’d go as Peter Parker!”

“I’m not even that poor!”

“Well, you’re not exactly rich!”

MJ blew hair out of her mouth and groaned in frustration. She stilled then jerked—Peter’s grip finally failed and before he could scrabble for another hold she turned sharply and sat crisscross applesauce in front of him. Both of them glared.

“You look like upset puppies,” Ned informed them, and was ignored.

“Why are you making this a big deal!”

“You didn’t even ask me! You can’t just—just use my name and not even—”

“You didn’t care when I used your name as an unofficial co-president to form a GSA at school!”

“That was school!” Peter insisted. “That’s different.”

“Well,” Ned attempted, and Peter shushed him.

“But imagine! We could meet Princess Shuri! You are always going on about her papers and research and you can’t tell me you wouldn’t love to geek out with her.”

“Those programs are for people who are practically on government assistance, not for people who just have to eat takeout a lot!”

“Look, worst comes to worst the application would just be rejected. Don’t you want to meet her?”

“If I could,” Ned tried.

“No,” MJ replied.

“OK. But just so you know you two really know how to ruin a surprise.”

“Don’t tell me,” Peter said, his eyes lighting up. Ned nodded, his smile peaking through his faux serious act. “Dude! That’s so friggen—you actually—wait wait wait wait did you win?”

“I won.”

“You WON?” Peter screamed like this was entirely unexpected. He scrambled up to tackled Ned in a hug and Ned laughed loudly, his cheeks slightly pink.

“I won!” he agreed.

“Someone gonna fill me in here?” MJ asked. “I don’t speak . . . that,” she said with a vague gesture to the two of them. She raised an eyebrow in an unimpressed way to mask how uncomfortable she was.

They had this habit, sometimes, of talking without actually talking. Which was fine, was great, really, only MJ didn’t speak the unspoken language they had so effortlessly created, and she was left to stare off to the side and pretend like she didn’t care in the first place.

“Ned won one of the scholarships Wakanda put out and we’re all going to visit!” Peter shouted, jumping up and down; his arms were still wrapped around Ned, who wore a self-satisfied smile and slightly pink cheeks.

MJ froze, eyes widening somewhat comically as her brain slowly thought through every one of the words in that sentence and what they meant. Slowly, then suddenly, understanding snapped into her being and she shrieked, hands darting to her mouth.

“OH MY GOD!” she screamed, and when her friends laughed she couldn’t help going along with them.

. . . o0o . . .

“Bring up the list of all the current outreach programs in progress, sorted by level of completion,” Shuri announced to her tech, watching it scroll through the hologram that popped up. “Also bring up the programs that have been begun, the competitions with adjacent prizes, the competitions that need a winner to be decided, and the competitions in progress and in planning.”

“Even you can only read one list at a time,” her brother said teasingly. Shuri ignored him petulantly, eyes scurrying, looking for the glaring shade of red that proved her inadequacy. There was an itch under her skin, the feeling that she had forgotten something and nothing could fix it because the deadline had already passed.

Only there was no red—which was a mistake, obviously. Shuri frowned, frustration scratching at her eyelids.

“Pull up my upcoming schedule for the next month,” Shuri demanded.

“Woah!” T’Challa exclaimed, eyes widening, and Shuri looked over in confusion. “That’s your schedule?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Shuri asked defensively. There were hourly increments and strict deadlines, every day filled with carefully slotted activities that left no time for leisure, but it was doable. It had been the same type of schedule she had been working off of since Wakanda had opened up to the rest of the world. Subtly, she checked to make sure she hadn’t forgotten to schedule meals again.

“You have a whole three minutes tomorrow to relax,” T’Challa teased. “That must be some sort of mistake.”

“Ha ha,” Shuri said dryly. That was actually the time she had scheduled for walking from one building to another, but he didn’t need to know that. “Like your schedule is much better, King.”

“Shuri,” he said, trying to use his older brother voice, and Shuri rolled her eyes. He was faintly embarrassed, like he always was when she brought up the fact that he was now actually king, but the worry in his voice was much more prominent.

“Shuri,” T’Challa repeated, in his I-am-a-king-and-you-will-listen-to-me-because-I-care-about-you voice, and Shuri sighed.

“Yes, my king?” she bit. It was a testament to how serious he was that T’Challa didn’t falter.

“I know you want these outreach programs to be successful—I do too. But do not run yourself ragged with them. One of the groups coming soon is your age. Try to make some friends. Be Shuri, not the Princess of Wakanda.”

“They are coming to meet the Princess,” Shuri refuted. “And I am both already. Any friends I make would have to realize that.”

“But do you?” T’Challa asked, gesturing towards the schedule. He was gearing himself up to get into a debate with her, or worse, go on a well-meaning tirade about self-care, so she quickly cut in. There were papers finalizing the tourist visas of one of the winners that she had to sign.

“If I promise to relax will you leave me alone?” she said in exasperation, and he nodded, looking vaguely amused at her annoyance. “Now shoo.” She paused, giving her brother a coy look. “I heard Nakia’s most recent assignment ended quicker than expected.”

T’Challa looked visibly torn between asking for more details and running out to find her, and after a momentary hesitation where he physically stumbled in his indecision, he fast-walked out of the room to the sound of Shuri bursting into laughter.

“Bring up the picture of the winner and their guests,” Shuri said, still giggling.

The first picture was of the winner, a teenager named Ned Leeds. He had an easy grin and a cheery lackadaisical aura that she hadn’t expected from his essay, which had read like a professional essay. The next was his mother, who shared the same dark eyes and brown hair, followed but another teenager who was quite obviously not related. Peter Parker’s picture looked like a mix of shocked and disgruntled; his friends had probably submitted that particular photo as a joke without him realizing. And then—

“Oh,” Shuri said out loud, and mortified, thanked God T’Challa had already left. The girl in the photo was gorgeous, with a complete nonchalance towards whoever was taking the picture and something captivating about the way she lounged across the chair. A second later Shuri shook herself from her reverie. She had promised T’Challa to relax in order to get him off her back more than any actually intent to follow through, but if relaxing meant finding out more about the girl on the screen, well . . .

“Michelle Jones,” Shuri read aloud, and smiled.

[lesbiansassemble]

Reminder: Femslash Writing Challenge Deadline

Hey guys, the deadline is today! Don’t worry if you haven’t finished it yet, as a couple of people have asked for extensions, but if you could hand it in ASAP I would be very grateful. xx

[lokiqueer]

at long last....  here’s my fic for @lesbiansassemble​ femslash writing challenge!

pairing: fem!loki/verity willis title: like home prompt: “is that my shirt?” word count: 765 + read on ao3

The day starts off much the same as any other day - which is to say, not normal at all.  But when one lives with Loki, one has to get used to that. And Verity is nothing if not used to the other’s antics.

At least this time there haven’t been any loud noises to wake her up earlier than needed, though the quiet isn’t exactly reassuring, either.  Verity would wonder if Loki’s even home if not for the fact that there’s the distinct scent of pancakes and bacon coming from the kitchen. A smile comes to Verity’s face, and she burrows further in the blankets, trying to ignore the fact that she needs to get up sooner rather than later.  She does have work deadlines, after all.

Verity’s nearly asleep again when a voice yells, almost obnoxiously cheerful, from the direction of the kitchen.  “Verity! I know you’re awake, and breakfast is done!”  Biting back a groan, Verity forces herself out from her minor cocoon of blankets and out of the bedroom.

It had been a bit difficult getting used to living with Loki, in the beginning.  Even after everything, there had been more than one moment where they’d clashed and argued with each other.  But that had been expected, planned for.

Verity steps into the kitchen, and is about to sit down at the table when she stops.  Blinks. Takes in exactly what Loki is wearing. The shorts and t-shirt combination isn’t anything out of the norm, but.  “Is that my shirt?” Verity asks, a bit wearily. The shirt clearly doesn’t fit the taller woman exactly right - it’s a bit too short, a bit too tight - and Verity sighs before finally sitting down.

“Nope!” Loki responds.  Verity gives her an unimpressed look, knowing full well that Loki is lying.  But she doesn’t even have to say anything before Loki speaks again. “Well,” the goddess concedes, “it is, but it’s not like you were wearing it!”

That isn’t a lie, and Verity decides to drop the issue, at least for the time being.  She knows herself, she knows Loki, and she knows this will need to be addressed eventually, lest Loki steal all her clothes.  It hasn’t happened before, but Verity wouldn’t put it past Loki. Breakfast passes without any other incident, it’s just the usual amount of teasing and chatter Verity expects from Loki.

The next few days follow much the same as the first day, with Verity waking up to find that Loki is wearing yet another one of her shirts.  The shirts vary, and one is so old Verity had almost forgotten she owned it.

After the fifth day of waking up and finding Loki wearing yet another of her shirts, Verity finally demands an answer.  “Why do you keep taking my shirts?” She’s far from upset, and it’s mostly just curiosity that stains her voice. “I showed you how to do laundry, so I know you’re not out of your own.”

There’s a beat of silence filled with Loki staring at her.  She hadn’t been expecting the question, apparently, and Verity has to wonder briefly if it really was such an odd question.  But Loki speaks before Verity can try to take the question back, to apologize.

“They smell like you.  They smell like - like home,” Loki admits, voice quiet and completely unlike how she usually is.

Verity’s expression immediately softens, a smile coming to her face.  She remembers when Loki had been exiled from Asgardia, and what she’d said then - that earth was Loki’s home, and how Loki had agreed with her, but she hadn’t quite imagined that Loki would consider her her home.  But there’s no way Loki is lying to her, not about this and not to Verity of all people. “Is that so?” she asks, voice matching the quietness Loki’s held.

Another pause, another hesitation, and then Loki nods.  “You didn’t think I was stealing them just to annoy you, did you?  Because I’d never do something like that,” she says, a bright grin on her face, and Verity doesn’t even bother to call the lie out.  “But you are, you know - my home, that is. Even if they hadn’t kicked me out, I -” Loki’s cut off by Verity pulling her down, and the press of lips against her own.

“You’re talking too much,” Verity says once they’ve broken apart.  They’re going to have to discuss this eventually, give exact words to all this, but the time being, Verity is happy to be labeled just as Loki’s home.  And, maybe, to let Loki keep stealing her shirts.

[whereforeartthoudumbass]

Beans over Brooklyn (Valkyrie x fem!reader)

Hi guys! I realize that this is the first fic I’ve done in a while, and I mean a while. I’ve been on a pretty long semi-hiatus. But I absolutely had to come out and do a fic for @lesbiansassemble and her 10k contest. So without further ado, let me present: Beans over Brooklyn!

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like coffee.

Now I know what you’re thinking.

“You? You don’t like coffee? You’re the assistant manager of Sakaar! Best coffee in Brooklyn!”

Yes. I know. Thank you for telling me my job.

I’ve just always found the beverage either too sweet or far too bitter. I’ve always preferred tea. So I bet you’re wondering how I ended up assistant manager? Well, here’s the funny story. I was just a lowly barista. I was only in it for the money, and the chance to pay off my tuition. However, the business wasn’t good. In fact, it was dwindling. Then, the new guy showed up.

He never actually told us his real name, but his large stature and huge muscles had us refer to him as the Hulk. He never corrected us. He was brought in by one of our regulars, a stunning woman with an unusual name: Brunnhilde. Sometimes people who’d never met her would scoff at her name. We employees never did. Some said she’d only come to Brooklyn as part of the mafia. Others said she was an undercover cop, hardened by the good old days. My personal theory was that she was just a lonely woman recovering from a difficult past. Nothing special. But the fact remained that she’d show up every day without fail at exactly 2:00. She’d swagger in through the doors and plop down on one of our bean bags. Of course, swagger doesn’t seem quite the right word to describe it, but it’s the only one I can think of. But she’d get up and order her usual: two espressos with a mint-caramel twist.

To be frank, she was the only reason we kept such a weird blend on the menu. But she’d been coming for two years, and each final Friday of the month she’d show up with a new possible employee. The first month it had been a bro-ey type guy with a big heart, named Thor. At least that’s what he told us. One time someone got a peek at his driver’s license and swore up and down that that’s what it actually said, so after that we had no choice but to believe him.

The next month it was Thor’s step-brother, a smooth-talking man by the name of Loki. Not all of us employees liked him, but our manager Mr. Gast was absolutely infatuated. Also, he brought a lot of ladies to the shop. Not purposefully, but just by being there.

Next, it was the Hulk. And so on and so forth, as our business slowly got better. Of course, every coffee shop in Brooklyn thinks itself to have the Best Coffee in Brooklyn, but as an avid tea drinker, the one time I had a sip of one of our lattes I didn’t immediately spit it out.

But the only reason our business improved was because of one person: Brunnhilde. And so, I made it my mission to thank her in any way possible. Little notes with her coffee. ‘Accidentally’ giving her extra change. Even changing the music in the café to the bands she’d wear on her t-shirts. And ever-so-slowly, I think she began to notice. She’d wink at me whenever she read one of my notes. She’d keep contact with my hand a bit longer when she’d give me back the extra change. And she’d make eye-contact, smiling whenever one of her songs came on. And slowly, it began to evolve into a game: how can I make her smile? How can I make her laugh? How can I communicate with her, without actually ever confronting her?

And slowly, ever so slowly, I began to fall for her.

From her wit, to her ferocity, to her deliciously beautiful laugh, I began to notice all the little things about her and how they made me feel. The notes became more flirty, gaining little x’s at the bottom. Our lingering touches were even longer than before. One day, as I went on my break to the park across the street, I summoned up the courage to ask her to go with me. She accepted with another one of her wonderful laughs. After that, it was a daily thing. I learned that she was an only child, that she had aspirations to become a pilot, that she knew all the guys she’d given us to hire because they worked out at the same gym. She learned that I didn’t actually like coffee, that I adored Norse Mythology, that I’d never had a s’more. She actually began to memorize my schedule, but every day just before I’d go on break she’d try a different cheesy pick-up line.

“Are you cake? Cause I want a piece of that.”

“I seem to have lost my phone number, could I have yours?”

Every time, I’d reply with a flirty glance and a quip about how I had a break in five minutes, and that she was welcome to join me.

               Then, one day she didn’t show up. Thor and I exchanged a worried look, but passed it off as that maybe she was sick. Then one day turned into two. Then two to three. Then three to two weeks. Finally, at the end of the second week, she came in, a half-hour later than usual. I was on my break. I heard the bell chime and looked up, only to see a familiar swagger, dampened by the weight of stress. Her clothes were all rumpled and her makeup wasn’t done. That should have tipped me off. If there’s one thing Brunn was known for in the shop besides her odd order, it was her killer makeup game.

               I rushed over to the bean bag next to her.

               “God, Brunn where’ve you been? We’ve been worrying about you!” She looked at me and cracked a small smile.

               “We?”

               “Well… me. And Thor and the Hulk. And maaaaybe Loki. But mostly me.” She smiled wider, but I could still see that there was pain behind it.

               “The Hulk?”

               “Yeah, the buff dude. He never told us his name.”

               “Do you mean Bruce?”

               “I guess? I don’t know.”

               “You mean Bruce Banner, the guy with 7 phDs and stunning anger issues?”

               “…Seven?”

               At this point she was almost laughing. I grabbed her arm and she startled.

               “Hey. Let’s go outside, yeah?” She nodded and I led her through the employee’s entrance, out back. “So are you going to tell me where you’ve been? You haven’t been answering any of my texts either.”

               “I’m really sorry, it’s just been a rough couple of weeks. My ex… my ex-girlfriend got into a coma. She nearly got killed in a bar fight by this bitch named Hela. Thor’s sister actually.” My eyes widened and I covered my mouth.

               “Oh my god! I’m so sorry, that must have been terrible!” She shrugged, but it was the shrug of someone who was feeling too much emotion to fully comprehend it. I offered her a hug and she took it, clinging to me like a lifeline as all the tears bubbled up. Brunnhilde is a strong woman. It meant a lot for her to cry. Slowly, I slid down the wall of the alley until I held her in my lap as she sobbed into my shoulder. I rubbed her back softly, whispering little words of encouragement.

               You’re okay.

               You’re here.

               You’re safe.

               I love you.

It slipped out of my mouth before I had the chance to think. My breathing stuttered as I felt her stiffen within my arms, hoping beyond all hopes that she hadn’t heard.

               It was small, and nearly indistinguishable. But I heard it all the same.

               “You love me?”

               She looked up from my shoulder and took in my nervous eyes, my hot cheeks, my quick breathing. I nodded, once. Quick. Sharp.

               It was enough.

               She leaned in, and I panicked. I grabbed the sides of her head with my hands and gave her one small peck on the lips. Then I stood up and bolted away.

               Through the park, along the duck pond. Towards the small forest where joggers would take their afternoon walks. To the small grove through a line of berry bushes that only I knew about. Well, Brunn and I. I clutched my knees to my chest and began hyperventilating.

               What had I just done?

               I’d kissed a girl, a girl who I wasn’t even sure liked me. Okay, there was a 90% chance she did. But what of that 10%? Not to mention, we weren’t even dating and I told her I loved her. What an awful, horrid, terrible-

               The berry bush behind me rustled. My head snapped up and I calmed my breathing the best I could. Then a lean body crawled through the space between the bushes and sat down next to me.

               “Y/N…”

               “Nope, Y/N’s not here. Leave a message at the beep. BEEP!”

               “Y/N.”

               “BEEEEEEP.”

               “Y/N!”

               “What?” I looked at her. She wasn’t crying any more. There were tear tracks still fresh on her face, and her eyes were still rather watery. She was smiling as she grabbed my hands.

               “Why me? Why this grumpy, alcoholic, mess of a person?” I replied without a second thought.

               “Because you’re… you! You’re the woman who always greets me with a cheesy pick-up line and a 50% tip. The one who brought business back to the café when En Dwi was thinking of closing! You’re the one to put a smile on my face at work every day, because let’s face it. I hate coffee. Why would I like working there? You’re the reason I’m assistant manager! Because you’re the only reason I stayed!”

               “Do you want to know a secret?” She asked, creeping her hands up to my cheeks.

               I nodded, holding my breath.

               She leaned in close, so that our lips were almost touching. I could smell the coffee on her breath, the aftertastes of a hangover still lingering.

               She whispered, ever so softly.

               “I don’t like coffee either.”

               Then she kissed me. Once. But it was enough to make me understand the addiction some people got to caffeine, others to alcohol. I pushed back into the kiss, keeping it sweet, but also passionate. Then the words she’d said kicked in.

               “You don’t like coffee? The fuck?”

               “You’re the reason I came in every day. The reason I always ordered that ridiculous blend. I just wanted the cute barista to notice me! Why do you guys even have that on the menu? It’s so weird.”

               My jaw dropped. I stabbed my finger at her chest.

               “You beautiful idiot! You’re the reason we put that on the menu! It was a joke on that first day, but then you came in for the first time, and you seemed to like it. So we kept it the next day. And the next, and the next. Every day for a year. Are you serious?”

               She laughed. Then I laughed. Then she laughed harder. Soon we were rolling around in the grass, laughing our dumbass asses off. Somehow, she landed on top of me, her arms to either side of me, in a plank position. I stopped laughing, suddenly aware of how close we were. Then she slowly lowered herself down in an almost pushup. Her lips landed on mine and I once again was in heaven.

Needless to say, I didn’t end up finishing my shift that day.

Did I mind though? No way.