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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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How about B, I, L, U, V for our big boi Theo? :3c

Sure thing, bub!! Theo hcs coming right up! 💙💙💙💙

I really hope you like them!!!! :3c

Fluff ABCs Template here for requests

Body -- What is his favorite part of her body?

Do y’all have any idea how hard it is for me to answer this letter without making this horny hours.

ANYWAY losing my mind because my instinct was to respond with “her tears.” And then my brain was like. Minnie that’s not a part of the body…that’s not how any of this works…But let’s pretend for a moment like I am valid, shall we?

No cap, I die on this hill. And my answer comes in two parts. The first reason tears destroy him like nothing else is because of how much she feels for the van Gogh brothers tbh. I think Theodorus is very accustomed to their situation being seen through a lens of indifference, a kind of “oh well, what can be done ¯\_(ツ)_/¯” especially. While he may argue that he’s used to it, he’s full of shit. It hurts every time–even more so because people are being dismissive about the person he loves most in the world (other than her, of course.) He’ll be silent for the most part, usually pretty stoic if those things come up, but the way her eyes glisten with tears just undoes him. He feels stupid to be so affected, but it’s something else entirely when somebody actually gives a damn. Somehow it's harder to keep his composure under that gaze...

The second reason is more about teasing. He can’t resist getting a reaction out of her sometimes, or seeing her brought to frustrated tears. That lovely blush overtaking the tips of her ears and face, to say nothing if it happens during nsfw hours. They make her face shine, a visible manifestation of all the emotion he tries so hard to deny–to run from–that it just moves him like nothing else. Where he can't find words or proper expression, she always does. Leonardo said once that a single glance at that man and you can tell he’s in love with art. And he was right, save that that kind of passion can be found in him again in moments like this. Alone, driving her to madness and pleasure.

It’s the part of him that belongs to her, and her alone.

Injury -- How would he act if she got hurt?

Lmao call Vincent instead of Theo if you actually want anything productive to be done about it.

I’m KIDDING mostly but to be honest I think he has a hard time hiding his distress when MC is hurt. If it’s something small he’ll try to play it off as mild irritation, muttering about oblivious hondjes and how she needs to be more careful. If it’s something like a bruise or a bandaged cut–maybe she bumped into something–he’ll just clumsily try to pat the pain away. Don’t try to hide it from him either because he has eyes like a hawk and will expose you. He’ll be a dumdum but it’s really sweet because he’ll be so gentle over such a tiny wound (it always amuses Dazai so much) that all the men will have to kind of hold back laughter. They don’t mean to mock the guy but he takes it so seriously it’s a little bit funny. Vincent is so unironically proud of him for being sensitive though and it’s enough to make a girl cry TwT

If it’s a very serious injury I am sorry but you are getting nothing but probably a panic attack from him. He doesn’t really do well with even the slightest suggestion of losing a loved one, so if she breaks a bone or experiences excessive bleeding–whatever the risk may be to her life–he is fighting to stay in control of his body’s response. He’s trying so hard to be strong for her, but he can hardly breathe and his vision is a little fuzzy and did they say she would be unconscious for a few days? Needless to say he’s a bit of a mess. Ideally, Vincent would do his best to help the guy stabilize while he waits for things to improve, but it’s touch and go for a bit there.

When she wakes up, he needs as much gentleness as she does in many respects. The stress attacks and constant distress have just resulted in so much tension and exhaustion, he doesn’t even have the energy for any verbal swipes at anyone. (I was going to say “he’s just a big puppy” but the irony hit me so hard I literally couldn’t finish typing the sentence). He just really needs lots of kisses and hand holds and promises she isn’t going anywhere, completely unprompted. Not to be emo (WAKE ME UP) but he really needs to be brought back to life slowly, in a way. He’ll get better with some time and assurance that she’s going to make it, but oTL hondje please, he can only take so many heart attacks in one lifetime.

Love -- How does he show her he loves her?

He does not.

I’m KIDDING but I stand by the fact that he’s more of a show than tell type of guy. He has a really, really hard time verbalizing everything that he feels, so I think the person he loves would ideally have to keep that in mind. He’s lowkey but very classy, imo. Gets surprise flowers every once in a while, buys groceries after work all the time if she needs things at home, always reliable with taking care of their finances (and in general). I feel like the thing about Theodorus is that he’s the quiet romantic; he won’t smooth talk or endlessly go on about love, but when she needs him? He’s there. Come hell or high water. When things are hard, when things feel impossible, when life just feels like one slap in the face after another–he’s warm and there and steady, leading her by the hand.

He's very proactive about just about anything other than expressing his feelings directly, so write that down--

Upset --How does he act when she's upset?

LMFAO catch him crashing at Vincent’s place tonight, no thanks murderous hondje ain’t it for me, sorry sweaty.

All jokes aside, I think he’s the type of guy who just has no idea how to handle it. I mean she’s the one that’s usually pretty stable emotionally, so when she isn’t it tends to be a big deal–the cause of her foul mood has got to be sizable. While he may be stymied upfront, will most likely go after the root cause of her distress and kill it with a hammer when her back is turned. Nobody upsets his hondje (unless it’s him) and gets away with it. The man has two modes: kill and more kill, and so he uses the second one as necessary in these situations.

That being said, it doesn't mean he's completely bereft of sensitivity. If it's a more sorrowful kind of upset, he'll try to make time for a lot of cuddling and pampering. Get her things she likes to eat/drink, rub her back gently, put on a movie she likes (even if it's boring to him). He hopes that some care and a few little distractions will be enough to calm her soon. He loves his hondje best when she's smiling, after all ùwú

Vaunt -- What is he proud of? Does he like to show her off?

Oh my goddddddd. Bih. If this man suffers from a cardinal sin, it’s pride I swear. Even if he’s Mr. Bad Mood Stink Face he will literally never say a bad word about her. There are so many people convinced he’s deadass got some kind of disorder because he has scary face, but also looks so delighted at the same time it's terrifying. Gets all puffed up about what a hard worker she is, how talented, how he couldn’t have done any of this without her. Even when he’s roaring drunk, now he just rambles on and cries about how much he loves her and Vincent and it’s beyond hilarious. Would throw down for her, would die for her, would steal a clown’s balloon for her–you name it.

She can do absolutely no wrong, so write that down.

Has a love hate relationship with showing her off (in the more blatant way) though because. Homewrecking. Does she look lovely in that dress? Undoubtedly so. If he sees one more gross lustful/covetous gaze directed at her though, he’s just gonna leave with her in tow. (He would throw hands but she doesn't like that.) Y’all know the whole Lord of The Rings’ “My p r e c i o u s” thing? That’s his vibe LMFAO. Depending on his mood he will either be like "hell yeah that's my wife you jealous bih, I'm the luckiest guy ever ik now buzz off" or he will just get more and more lowkey steamed until they leave.

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #ikevamp theodorus #ikevamp fluff #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp fluff headcanons #yall i laughed so much writing these this disaster fk kills me #the way he is just so #no💙#he's literally just that friend where you ask them to do smth #he says no #and then does it immediately #an angy legend we stan #pls enjoy all you theo thirsters #and ty for the request sweetums!!!! welcome anytime~#rambles #not incorrect quotes

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emmatheficreccer · 3 years

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A Classic Fanfic Brew

Happy Friday!

I had to do it!! Coffee Shop AUs are the biggest fanfic trope and I am not immune!! I just really love coffee and coffee shops..... So here are a few of my favorite Coffee Shop AUs in no particular order:

Title: Coffee, Trapper Hats and Chocolate Wasabi Fudge Cake

Author: perfect_plan

Ship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers (MCU)

Rating: Mature

Words: 15,015

Summary: Bucky likes his job at Natasha's coffee shop. Mostly that has to do with Steve Rogers, who wears a dorky hat to work and sketches on his lunch break but Bucky's not going to tell anyone that.

emmatheficreccer: This fic is so sweet :)) and Steve is such a dork I love him so much. The dorky trapper hat.......... we stan.

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Title: followed your course, near to remorse

Author: playingforkeeps

Ship: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter (Check Please!)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 4,358

Summary: Out of the corner of his eye, Will registers a black apron to his left, probably Dylan by the door. And maybe it’s bad shoes or someone spilled cream earlier, but as he turns, his feet careen out from under him. He manages to stay on his feet by the grace of some higher coffee-shop power, but soymilk sloshes all over both him and the black apron, soaking them both.

“Jesus Christ, Dylan, would you watch where you’re fucking—”

Except the apron isn’t an apron. It’s a black tank top, despite the bitter cold outside, and the guy wearing it definitely isn’t Dylan. He’s staring at the book in his hand, which is also covered with soymilk and probably totally unreadable. He’s also extraordinarily pretty in a kind of disarming way. Not hot—yeah, he’s built, but it’s something a little more than that, all big green eyes and full, parted lips. As Will tries to say something, he turns his gaze on Will, raising his eyebrows almost imperceptibly.

Oh, Will is so getting fired for this.

The coffeeshop au, from someone who truly hated barista work.

emmatheficreccer: This fic is so so cute. Nursey is a huge dumdum and I love him so much.

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Title: heavy on the sugar

Author: wit / @parvuls

Ship: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann (Check Please!)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 41,700

Summary: Jack, captain of the hockey team, refuses to deviate from his boring coffee order. Bitty, a barista at Annie's, refuses to accept the situation. They somehow become friends.

emmatheficreccer: This fic is absolutely gorgeous!! Bitty is a runner in this fic, which is a concept I never knew I needed! This fic has me alllllll up in my feelings.

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Title: Love wakes me

Author: dea_liberty

Ship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn (The Untamed)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 46,114

Summary: It starts with a bet. All mistakes, Wei Wuxian thinks, start with a bet.

It’s starts with a bet and ends with Wei Wuxian losing everything.

Nine years ago, Wei Wuxian made a bet with disastrous consequences. Now, he is part-owner of the popular and eclectic Yiling Cafe, years and miles away from his old life, making the best of things and trying to leave the past where it belongs. When Lan Wangji walks into his cafe by accident, Wei Wuxian finds himself doing what he thought he'd never do again; reclaiming some small part of his past, and hoping for a future he'd given up as lost.

emmatheficreccer: This fic is a coffee shop fic but it’s also so much more! There’s a tragic backstory, exes to lovers, an adorable child, renowned musician Lan Zhan.... all the good things!!

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Title: Ghost valley coffee

Author: boblemon

Ship: Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu (Word of Honor)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Words: 9,272

Summary: “You should definitely take this, A-Xu! You’re already on your way to a free drink!”

Without replying, A-Xu pointedly picks up the coffee and glares at Wen Kexing before leaving, not touching the point card at all. Wen Kexing sighs and shakes his head, but watches attentively as A-Xu goes through the front door.

Or, my self indulgent coffee shop AU.

emmatheficreccer: Wen Kexing is my beloved, and the author captures his shameless flirting so perfectly in this coffee shop au! Who could resist him?? Not Zhou Zishu that’s for sure ;)

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If there is a Coffee Shop AU that you love, send it my way! I’d love to check it out. Also be sure to leave a Kudos and/or Comment for these lovely authors if you check out and love these fics! If you think i should do a part 2 for Coffee Shop AUs, let me know!!

Love always,

Emma

#coffee shop au #fic recs #Wenzhou #word of honor #wangxian #the untamed #zimbits #check please!#nurseydex #stucky #mcu

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alifeasvivid · 3 years

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“They can never find out. Even if it kills me inside." from the unrequited love prompts is probably peak Arthur (usuk, in canonverse it'd be particularly prominent)

What's funny is if Alfred likes him back, he's not as subtle ab it as Arthur is, and gets flustered more easily. So then Arthur will be in denial like "what if he acted that way bc he likes me? no no that can't be possible" aahh these two dumbasses XD

But it'd also be very angsty huh ;-;

They are a couple of dumdums, that's for sure XD

I'm firmly of the belief that America has been in love with England for far longer than England has been in love with him, for the simple reason that for quite a long, long time, England only saw America as a kid or as a point of pain--not as a potential lover.

But America's behavior, since they've reconciled, hasn't really changed at all, so England just assumes that... of course America couldn't be interested in him--especially after all that they've been through. His own feelings baffle him, at least in that regard. Shouldn't their history make this sort of feeling impossible? Well it certainly makes it impossible to act on. America, lovely America, has come back to him after all this time and he dares not do anything that might drive him away again. It's not as if America could possibly feel the same way. His behavior has seemingly not changed very much over the years, so there's no way to really know what his feelings are without asking. That's just a tad bit too risky. England decides America can never know. Even if he has to stop himself from visibly melting every time America smiles at him, even if he has to focus on all the things that annoy him about America just to stay sane, even if it kills him inside.

Meanwhile, America has probably been in love with England since even before the revolutionary war and that's partly what fueled it: he didn't want to be seen as England's little brother, he directly declares that he is not, he wanted to be taken seriously as his own nation (so much meta and fanfic have been written on this so I won't hammer on this too hard here). But England wouldn't hear of it. And America spends much of the next century or so in isolation, trying to keep himself together, sometimes wondering if he shouldn’t have left. But he's proud of who he has become. When he finally comes out of isolation, England is there, wanting to be... allies at least. That's something. They become friends and America is overjoyed. And he would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship, not again. So even if America has to tease England and piss him off on purpose, even if he can't throw his arms around England kiss him like he's wanted to for years and years and years... even if it kills him inside... England can never know.

But of course, things slip out. As they always do. Love will not stand to be contained. And every... overly sincere compliment here, every lingering glance there, every almost-touch creates little sparks of hope in both of them.

Maybe enough to start a proper fire one day :D

Thank you for the ask <3

#usuk #unrequited love asks

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txdoroki · 3 years

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sonic

ayyy something for everyone else who, like me, is in love with best boy sero. lmao feel free to make any requests ofc >,<

features bakusquad B)

content warning: talk of drugs

words: 1,366

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you and the bakusquad were hanging out in your boyfriend, sero’s room playing just dance. well, you and sero were more watching them, you sitting on his bed as he laid with his head in your lap, looking up at you happily while you watched mina destroy bakugou at a miku dance.

“i’ll get it next time, extra.” he grumbled, handing the wii remote to denki and flopping down on a beanbag chair.

so far in the tournament, mina and denki had had the most wins, and now would be the final. at first you and sero wanted to be in, but got drowsy pretty quickly from the weed you both had smoked before the get together. although you had made him promise to not tell anyone, so you both claimed you hadn’t slept well last night, but that wasn’t exactly the case.

“cmon, y/n, not even one try?” mina whined when you told them you wanted to opt out of tonight’s games.

“she’s probably too scared of my pure talent,” denki boasted, he was the king of just dance recently.

“yeaaaa hah i’m a wuss today, i’ll get all of you next time,” you smiled, trying to hide the glossiness of you and your boyfriends eyes from the rest of the group.

“baaabbbbyyyyy,” sero called, sticking his tongue out when you looked at him.

you lost it. neither one of you understood why it was so funny, all you knew was you laughed so hard you started crying and so was he.

“awe you beat me,” denki pouted, then turned to see you and sero laughing on the bed, “what the hell are you guys on, weirdos.” he turned back around smiling as he demanded a rematch with mina.

“y/n are you fucking high? i swear to god,” bakugou walked over to the bed and held your shoulders still so he could see your face.

“calm down bakuhoe,” you giggled once bakugou stepped back, sero sitting up next to you and wrapping arms around your neck, basically hanging off of you. it ended up making you fall on top of him, neither one of you moving as you both roared with laughter.

“woah, bro, you okay?” kirishima sat down on the bed next to the both of you once the other continued their games, his face twisted with concern.

“yeah, kinda want some sonic right now though,” sero slowly pushed you up, opting to let you rest on him while he put an arm around you instead of you just laying on top of him.

“wait that literally sounds so good, we should go!” mina beamed as she won the game again, denki groaning.

“it’s 8 pm,” bakugou attempted to reject the plan, but everyone else was too excited about it, “fine, but i’m staying here.”

“party pooper,” denki laughed, the rest of the group chuckling as the five of you left the room to head to kirishima’s car. let’s be real here, kirishima was most definitely the only person you should trust to drive out of all of you, especially right now.

thankfully the car had three rows of seats, so you and sero got to sit in the very back. mina was sitting next to kirishima in the passenger seat while denki got the entire middle row to himself.

“hah imagine not being in the middle row,” denki snorted, you doing finger guns in response.

you were leaning on sero a bit much, your seatbelt pulling at your side but you didn’t care. he was playing with your hair, running his fingers through it and putting it in a braid at one point.

mina made kirishima blast doja cat, he lowkey really liked her stuff and called wont bite a manly song, which you didn’t really get but to each their own.

now you were sitting on sero’s lap, ignoring kirishima’s claims of it being unmanly for sero to not make you put your seatbelt back on.

“closer to me baby i won’t bite,” you smiled at your boyfriend, smushing his face between your thumb and fingers making him look funny.

“you look so tasty but i won’t bite!” sero sang along,

“really i’m such a good kitty, don’t put up fights,”

“yeah, you are,” he winked at you and you blushed, praying denki didn’t hear that. to your luck, he was too busy bugging mina about playing wap.

“you’re so weird, hanta,” you giggled, kissing his cheek before kirishima announced that you all had arrived.

“yay sonic!” mina ran inside, denki following close behind. kirishima ran after them, shouting how it is unmanly to leave the group.

“and then there were two,” sero winked at you before hopping out of the car, giving you a hand to balance yourself when you did the same. you shivered, suddenly freezing for no good reason. he shook off his hoodie, pulling it over you despite your protests, “oh hush you know i won’t let you walk around cold, dumdum.”

“a whore never gets cold,” you pouted, trying to shake off the jacket but he held it down with the arm that was around your waist.

“you’re my whore though,” he said casually earning a hard blush from you as you both reached the store, you searching for where mina, denki, and kirishima were sitting.

sero ordered for the both of you, knowing it made you anxious to talk to people you didn’t know well. you were really thankful he knew your orders by heart, you found it sweet. he was a really good boyfriend.

once you both retrieved your ice cream, you took a seat next to mina as he pulled up a chair since he didn’t want to cramp you both.

“took you both long enough, what were you doing, fucking in the back seat?” mina laughed at denki’s remark.

“nah bro i’d never, not in kiri’s car-at-least,” sero started slurring his words while he ate his heath bar blizzard.

“well you don’t have your own car, where would you do to it, bakugou’s?” mina giggled, kirishima trying to not choke on his icecream from the laugh that growled in his chest.

“i for one do not have a death wish,” you smiled, sero nodding.

after the sonic trip, kirishima drove all of you back, you fell asleep leaning on sero because of how drowsy you were getting. the smooth purring of the car singing you to sleep for around twenty minutes, content and at peace with how the night went.

your three friends all left the car, you and sero being the last ones in.

“baby,” sero whispered, trying to wake you up without being harsh. after a few failed attempts, he kissed you on the forehead, deciding he could just carry you.

with you thrown over his shoulder, he got out of the car and walked you both back to his dormroom, whispering about how lucky he was and stuff along those lines while he walked slowly to his room, careful not to wake you.

he set you on his bed while he changed into comfortable pants and took his shirt off, no way in hell he was going to be sleeping in jeans.

after he was changed, he pulled your limp body into his arms, holding you against his chest as if he was afraid you’d run away. his favorite thing to do was hold you, even if it wasn’t the most comfortable for him, it didn’t matter as long as you were there.

you woke up in the middle of the night, your eyes adjusting to the dark while you looked around. you blushed to feel your beloved’s arms wrapped around you, recognizing his room once you could see clearly.

you tried shuffling out of his arms to change into one of his shirts, but to your dismay he didn’t budge, his grip on you if anything tightening.

“hantaa please,” you whimpered and weakly pushed at his arms, “i wan’ change,”

“you look fine the way you are, princess. you’re staying right here,” he kissed your cheek, nuzzling his head into your shoulder.

you sighed and went back to sleep, no need to argue with him. it won’t work anyways.

#sero x y/n #hanta sero #mha sero #mha hanta sero #bnha sero #bnha hanta sero #sero x reader #bakusquad #hanta sero x reader #sero fluff #hanta sero fluff #hanta sero is a softie #cuddly hanta sero #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #m.favs

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domesticblisss · 3 years

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Lotta Love

Marcel Barthel x Female OFC Flower Shop AU! Requested Prompts: "Hi! Could you please write something where all of Marcel's usual flirting tactics aren't working at all on his crush and he has no clue what else to try? Thanks in advance! :)" Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 1753 Warnings: Super fluffy. Marcel being a dumdum and not communicating properly. A/N: This was poorly proof read, sorry in advance for any mistakes. Tbh I don't know how I feel about this one, but I hope you guys like it. 💓

Marcel is the last person one would imagine seeing working in a flower shop. Tall, blonde and muscular, perfectly built to be a personal trainer, actually doubled as a cashier and arrangement maker in Walter's shop.

As the days got busier and business bloomed, Walter hired Natalie to help him around.

Marcel was gone as soon as the bell dinged and she sat foot in the store accompanied by his austrian friend that first monday morning. Red, curly hair so big he was sure it was full of secrets, freckle kissed olive skin, and the most beautiful set of honey coloured eyes he had ever seen.

He knew right away why Walter hired her. Bubbly and talkative, Natalie’s personality enchanted everybody. The elderly customers spent hours on deep conversations with her, men and women flirted with her and the children that accompanied their parents loved the candies she kept under the counter for them.

Marcel couldn’t complain, his job got easier as he could focus solely on the arrangements, the customers were even happier and the tips got bigger. A win/win situation.

On her second day, Marcel found Natalie sniffing in the break room, followed by a string of curses leaving the woman’s lips. Gently touching her arm, he asked her what happened.

“Nothing happened,” she chuckled at his worried face. “I’m allergic to flowers, so you know…”

“You’re allergic to flowers and you got yourself a job in a flower shop?” Marcel’s incredulous tone of voice made her break out in laughter.

“I know, I know… but I love flowers, and honestly? I would rather have my allergies flare up every damned day than to stay at my old job.”

“What did you do before?”

“A boring corporate job that paid me good money but took away all my will to leave.” Marcel couldn’t imagine her without the glow Natalie always had in her eyes or the smile that was so easy to get from her.

“Got it. Are the allergies bad enough for me to be worried?”

“Nope! Nothing a couple of pills can’t solve. I should get back to the counter.” she stopped on her way out and kissed his cheek “Thank you for worrying about me.”

His cheeks heated up and instantly got tinged red. Speechless, all he did was nod.

That same day, on his break, he ran to the drugstore and got an extra bottle of her allergy meds to keep on the store’s first aid kit.

It was safe to say he was in love. He always tried to make her laugh, learned everything about the bands she liked so much, to the point of making a playlist to play in the shop.

Fabian, the barista that worked in the café next door, and Marcel’s best friend, was the one to hear his cries.

It was his day off and Marcel sat on the counter as his italian friend prepared what he deemed an overly sweet “insult to coffee” order to the group of teenagers that went to the shop daily.

“I don’t know what to do, dude.” Marcel cried, the hands that held his head muffling his voice.

“Well– EMILY!” Fabian called and the giggly teenager that always ordered her caramel frappuccino with double everything came running.

“Thank you, Fabian!”

“No problem, sweetheart. See you tomorrow.” he smiled at her, and as soon as she left, his stoned expression took over as he turned to Marcel “Well, tell her the truth, tell her you like her.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, dude. I just can’t.”

Fabian sighed, “Then show her.”

And Marcel did. In his own way.

Every day he would put a different flower on the sleek glass vase she kept by the computer, hoping she would notice what each flower meant. First, a white camellia, you’re adorable, then an assortment of stocks, you’re beautiful to me (which he regretted 10 minutes into their shift, its strong scent flaring her allergies in no time. A quick “I’m sorry”, a glass of water and her pills later, he changed it to a single peony, the most beautiful). Every single day Marcel would set a different flower waiting for her to pick up what he was trying to say and nothing. Red chrysanthemums were his last shot, a plain and simple, straight up I love you. Still nothing.

He spent that night stuffing his ass with pepperoni pizza and having a pity party on Fabian’s couch, who was quick to tell him, once again, to be forward with her.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if she says no?” Marcel’s voice was so low it almost broke.

“If she says no, you go and move on with your life.”

“Well, I will keep trying to make her notice how much I love her.”

Her chai latte – just a sprinkle of sugar, with extra cinnamon and extra foam – and bagel with cream cheese order waited for her every morning when she arrived, Marcel got her a rare Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors vinyl copy, signed by Stevie Nicks for her three month employment anniversary, and somehow, he convinced Walter to adopt a golden retriever, with the excuse that the store needed a pet to de-stress the shifts, just because Natalie mentioned how much she loved dogs.

Nothing. Zit. Zero. Nada.

Fabian refused to let Marcel fall into his self pity once again, harshly telling him to man up and ask her out already, for fuck sake.

That saturday was a slow one and Marcel spent the day pep-talking himself. 04:30pm, thirty minutes to the end of their shift, he finally had the guts to approach her. It’s now or never.

“Hey, Natalie…” he lost his trail of thought as soon as she greeted him with her bright smile, the dumbstruck look took over his face, entertaining her.

“Marcel?”

Shaking his head, the call of his name got him back to the real world. “Soooo, I wanted to see if you want to grab a bite to eat at that new restaurant that opened down the street?”

“Oh, I would love to, but Adam is picking me up for dinner. We haven’t seen each other in a while, he’s always so busy so I take every chance I get to see him.”

“Ah… okay, some other time maybe? Well, it’s almost closing time, let me go clean my station.”

← Asked her out for dinner. She has a date with some Adam guy.

Marcel texted Fabian, blocking his phone as soon as the message got sent, and got back to setting his station clean.

05:00pm reached soon and the bell that announced whenever a customer got inside the shop dinged. In got Adam Cole, also known as the most obnoxious guy he ever met, also known as the coffee shop owner, Fabian’s boss. “He doesn’t look like her type.” he thought.

Seeing her squeal, run and hug Adam shattered him, making him want to burn a hole in the ground and hide for the rest of his life.

“Marcel this is Adam, Adam this is Marcel.”

“Hey dude. We already know each other, Nat.” Adam mentioned making Marcel seethe when he called her Nat.

“Sup, Adam.”

“Really? Didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, honey. Marcel is friends with Fabian and he’s always at the shop. Now let’s go? I don’t want us to be late.”

“Should’ve figured out you two would have met already. Anyways, see you on monday, Marcel?”

“Of course, Nat.” he smiled at her, waving goodbye.

Marcel made sure they had already left when he locked the door, screaming one long big “fuck” that woke poor Poppy up, the lazy golden retriever.

“Sorry, Pops. Let’s go home.”

Fabian left his own shift straight to Marcel’s place with two beer packs and four pizzas in hand, letting his friend cry his sadness out.

Germany vs Italy was on, both men watching the soccer game in silence. Almost forty minutes later, Marcel finally started talking.

“She has a boyfriend, dude… a fucking boyfriend and she never mentioned it.”

“Should she?”

“What?”

“Should she have mentioned the boyfriend?”

Marcel looked at Fabian like a second head was growing “Well, I’d have mentioned my significant other if I was in a loving relationship. Besides, to top it up, it’s fucking Cole, dude. Of all people, she’s dating Cole.”

“Wait, hold up, hold up.” Fabian interrupted, grabbing the remote control to mute the TV. “You are telling me that her date is Adam, as in my boss Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“You fucking idiot, he’s her brother.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he’s her brother. Same dad, different moms.”

“She did mention she had an older brother.” Marcel said in deep thought.

“You are asking her out again, right?”

“First thing monday morning.”

Monday came and Marcel arrived at the shop an hour earlier than usual. He got her usual at the café, made her a bouquet with her favourite flowers, and even dressed Poppy with her custom made uniform and a pink bow.

“Good morning!” Natalie shouted in her sing-songy voice.

“In the break room.” Marcel shouted back.

“How was your weekend?”

“Good, and yours?”

“Great. Can we talk?” he asked, nervousness seeping through his voice.

“Sure.”

“I like you. I really, really like you. Being honest, I love you. I knew I did as soon as you walked in that monday morning with Walter and I–“

Red curly hair blurred his vision and full, soft lips quickly attached to this in a slow, bold kiss.

Marcel pulled away to catch his breath, not letting her go from his arms.

“Woah.”

“Does this mean I wasn’t seeing too much with the flowers?”

“You did notice the flowers! I knew Fabian was wrong.”

“I did. I just thought I was seeing too much into it. In my head you were just being nice with it and all the gifts.”

“I’m crazy about you, Nat.” Marcel whispered in her soft curls as he hugged her tight.

“So, do you want to go on a date?” Nat asked.

“I’d love to.”

Marcel kissed her just like he always wanted to. Slowly, savouring the feeling of having her in his arms and the way her body molded against his.

“Finally.” Walter’s voice boomed behind them.

“Hey…” The duo said, embarrassed.

“Don’t even try to hide it, I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Just keep it together in front of the customers.”

“Sure thing, boss!” Natalie and Marcel said in unison.

#wwe imagine #nxt imagine #wwe fanfiction #nxt fanfiction #marcel barthel x ofc #marcel barthel x oc #marcel barthel imagine #marcel barthel #DB writes

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jaredstrout · 3 years

Text

A different path

Azula ran through the tunnel towards the next exit, to get to the airship waiting for her there. Her plan had worked perfectly and the feeling of having stalled the Avatar himself without even her bending made the princess fly over the smooth rock.

Her enthusiasm was dampened, when she suddenly saw a familiar figure step into her path. Confusion, anger and some concern filled her as Azula stared at her brother, who was armed with his swords and looked quite shaken.

“Zuko...what are you doing here?

What...where is father?” she asked as the sudden fear to have failed even after her magnificent performance gripped her and wiped away any traces of her triumph. Zuko shrugged.

“I...I think he is fine...well a bit furious though.” Zuko said with a clearly fake smile, that didn´t hide his nervousness, it only emphasised it. Azula glared at him.

“Oh Dumdum what have you done?” she groaned as she remembered how Zuko had almost repeated the mistake of his first war meeting at the second one. He really never knew when to keep his mouth shut, not to mention know what father wanted to hear.

“I confronted him...about everything. The war...the way he treats us...about mom.” Zuko said and suddenly there was somethign different about him. A strange determination, similar to his will to get the Avatar at all cost and yet...it lacked the underlying anger that Azula had seen each time she had confronted her brother in the fallen Earth Kingdom. Her eyes narrowed.

“You did what?” she snapped at him and could only start to think of all the stupid things he could have packed into a conversation with their father.

“He will kill me...and I don´t kow what he will do to you.” Zuko just said and stepped closer. Azula made a small step back, away from her brother.

“You dumb fishbrained fool!” she hissed at him as all she had done, all her planning to get Zuko home and safe went up in smoke. She should be afraid, concerned...but in that moment she just felt anger at Zuko for throwing it all away...she had killed the Avatar for him...or almost. She had handed him his place to their father´s right and his title as crown prince back...and he had nothing better to do than to spit on all that?

“Listen Azula...we can talk about that later...when we are out of here!” he said and grabbed his sister´s arm tightly. Azula squirmed in his grip, but was still too shocked, stunned by his idiocy to really free herself.

“We? There is no we! There never was! You made that clear right now!” Every word from Azula was burning with rage as she glared at Zuko with gritted teeth. The revelation that he had betrayed father and by that her came over her. Zuko sighed.

“I´m sorry...but I can´t...I just can´t stand for this anymore...and I realized I never did in the first place...and I´m sorry for this as well.” he said, the last part came out with such a sad and also apologizing expression and tone that Azula froze for a moment, alarmed...only to respond to late when his other hand suddenly slammed the hilt of his sword against her head.

Pain exploded in Azula´s head as she stumbled, was caught by her brother and then, dazed and groaning in pain, was thrown over his shoulder.

“Sorry sorry sorry...really. But I can´t let you stay here.” Zuko whispered to her as he hurried with her weight on his shoulder towards the balloon he had prepared for his escape.

Azula didn´t hear him...all she knew was, that her brother had betrayed her and that pain let the aching head he had given her feel like a bruise. And while he carried her away, the pain of her heart finally spilled over and for the first time in long, lonely years Azula´s eyes grew wet as she started to cry.

#Azula #Zuko #Day of Black Sun #AU

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killingkueen · 3 years

Text

There’s Snow Place Like Home*

*the back of the pawnshop

Merry Happy, @silwenworld. How nice to reveal myself; and with a present, too!

summary: Two dumdums get snowed in, and when the heat goes out they have to get creative about staying warm.

rating: E

AO3 link

The door to Game of Thorns opened, pulling Belle from her current paperback. Any pique she felt vanished instantly when she saw who entered.

“Mr. Gold, hello.” She straightened, tugging at the ends of her sweater. She wished she’d had time to put on lipstick that morning. Or any makeup. She just bought a new thing of mascara, too.

“Miss French,” he greeted. His smile was polite, and short lived; Gold turned his attention to the shelf of vases her father had moved closer to the door last week.

Belle tried not to deflate.

“What can I help you with today?” she asked. He was wearing the dark blue shirt, the one with the subtle paisley. It was her favorite, and not because she had a near-matching dress, the lace just as deep and swirling.

Mr. Gold picked up a square vase, also blue. He turned it over, but to check the price or the construction, she wasn’t sure.

“I was thinking of a bouquet, today,” he said to the glass. “Something red, perhaps.”

Belle appreciated the sharp line of his jaw, and how it cut such a nice silhouette while he spoke. “We have carnations, or amaryllis. Those are always nice.”

He made a sound to indicate he was listening, but didn’t turn to look at her. Belle’s shoulders drooped, just a little.

“We also got a new batch of roses, but I remember you ordered those last time.”

He set the vase down, careful not to jostle the shelf. It was a simple movement, his hand placing the glass on the wood, then letting go. His fingers were long, steady, clearly used to handling delicate things. She wondered if he approached everything with such confidence, such assurance that he knew how to touch, handle, and care for. Was he as good with people as objects?

“The roses will do,” he said.

“Roses, right.” She blinked, torn from her fantasy. Her face felt hot, and she hoped her blush wasn’t obvious.

For fuck’s sake, Belle, she chided herself.

She reached for the order pad by the register and hoped she could get through the interaction without embarrassing herself further.

She could not.

“They’re my favorite, you know.” She smiled at his still turned face.

“Yes, you’ve mentioned.” His voice was dry, bored.

Belle looked down at the pad. The stubby pencil rubbed against her finger.

“They’re nice flowers,” she couldn’t help but add. When Gold said nothing else, she asked, “Would you like the vase, too?”

“No, thank you.”

He approached the register, and Belle absolutely did not look up. She refused to watch the sway of his hips as he walked with his cane. He was so fluid and elegant. Not that she was watching him now. But she did risk a peak as he approached, catching the glint of his gold-tipped cane, the nice burgundy of his tie. She had a belt that color, or near enough. It would look good with her blue dress.

For a wild moment, she wondered what he’d do if she leaned over the counter and kissed him. Would he stumble back, shocked? Would he—kiss back? Perhaps lace his hands in her hair while hers tugged at his lapels, urging him closer, taking the breath from his lungs—

A sharp trill emanated from Mr. Gold’s pocket.

Belle looked down, quickly, her face hot.

Gold sighed, reaching into his pocket. He made a face at the caller ID. “Add the amount to my account,” he said, hitting a button and silencing his phone. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss French.”

“I’ll bring your bouquet to the shop, then,” she said to his back, as Gold left the store. “You know, when it’s ready.”

The door closed, and she watched through the window as Gold lifted the phone to his ear. He walked away, and Belle noticed it was snowing, the white flurries delicate and large as they fluttered through the air. The sidewalk already had a neat layer.

With an aggrieved sigh, she dropped her head onto her folded arms. Gold was always looking elsewhere, always interested in the thing just over her shoulder. And when he was looking at her, it was always with a bored, if polite, expression, as if she was just a placeholder until the next exciting thing caught his interest.

Belle wondered what she could do. A new dress, perhaps. Or a haircut. Or maybe, when she delivered his bouquet, she could enact her fantasy and grab the pretty bastard by his tailored suit and just—lay one on him. Kiss him until they were both out of breath and gasping.

It would be great up until he reported her for assault.

Belle sighed. She penciled in Gold’s account number on the order pad, wrote roses, red. She hadn’t asked how many he wanted, so went with his last order: one dozen.

At least she could make his bouquet. She’d pick the best flowers, and tie it all up in a neat bow. And maybe, when she dropped by his shop to deliver it, she’d be able to strike up a conversation. She had asked him about the Tiffany lamp on his counter once. It had been a nice surprise when he’d had a lot to say.

If the day was slow, she could have the roses ready in the afternoon. Seeing him twice in a day—she was going to be spoiled.

Gold did very well in not slamming the door behind him as he entered the back room of his shop. As aggressive as he was in pulling off his overcoat, it was with a controlled shake that rid it of the snow that clung to it. He spared a thought to the weatherman, who had been threatening a storm all week, but it had yet to materialize.

This was supposed to be the day he’d finally do it, he thought. Yeah, right. He ran a hand down his tired face. Every trip to the flower shop was predicated on This Was the Day. Every chance he had at seeing Belle French, every time she caught his eye, whether at the diner, or the pharmacy, or when she’d peek between the slats at the bordered up library—he'd feel something rise in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t explain, the desire to throw himself at her feet.

“Let’s go for coffee,” he wanted to ask. “Have dinner with me,” he’d beg, if he had to. “Come to bed,” he’d let himself think, only in the dark shadow of his bedroom, behind his locked door, under his blankets.

This was the day he would have, too, would have prostrated himself there in her father’s shop if only Regina hadn’t interrupted with her phone call.

“Please give me any amount of your attention and I will be yours until the stars turn to dust,” was on the tip of his tongue, and it would have made it out of his mouth if only his damn phone had been on silent. Damn the mayor and her contracts.

The thought had no teeth, though. No real oomph behind it.

Gold could barely look at the woman without being blinded, let alone open himself up for rejection and ridicule. And if not ridicule, horror, or even—disgust. It would be the worst kind of shock, he knew, to realize that he, Beast of Storybrooke himself, was interested in sweet Belle French.

Gold sighed, feeling hollow, hopeless. His keys and cell phone clattered as he dropped them on his workbench.

At least he got flowers out of it.

Whether he took them home or kept them by his register, each arrangement was the perfect spot of color, eye catching and lovely. Seeing them kept Belle’s smile close, not that he needed the reminder.

He liked the idea of Belle putting together his bouquet. Of her choosing each bloom with the utmost care, each petal counted and preened especially for him. Perhaps she sealed the bow with a kiss. It was a heady thought.

Ridiculous too, of course. Pure fantasy. It was better than the truth, which was that flowers were chosen from whatever available, wrapped in tissue paper and plastic and tossed his way without another thought beyond how much should be added to his balance.

That made it sound like the French’s did subpar work. Gold fiddled with the space heater knob, turning it up with a thoughtful frown. Regardless of his opinion on the patriarch, the arrangements coming out of Game of Thorns were nothing short of exceptional.

The true reality was each bouquet was professionally done, and handed to him with a smile from Belle herself that could never mean what he wanted it to.

Perhaps one day, if he was very brave and Belle was in a charitable mood, he could ask for more of her time and she’d agree.

The day passed slowly. The shop was open, but bereft of customers, which suited Gold just fine. The heater at his feet buzzed, his pen scratched across the thick paper as he looked over his accounts. A world his own, there in his backroom.

Gold had just put on the kettle for tea when the bell jingled. Not bothering to hide his annoyed frown, he swept the curtain aside, stepping into the front. It vanished instantly at the site of Belle, backlit and glowing.

The round of her cheeks were as red as the roses she clutched, their heads peeking out from the shiny gold plastic they were wrapped in. Her hair was a shining, glistening halo of curls that spilled down her shoulders. She was effervescent, standing at the door of his shop, unnatural in her beauty.

He blinked with the realization that the world outside his shop was white; completely blanketed in snow. It glowed in the burgeoning light of the street, a white darkness.

“Miss French,” he greeted, shaking himself. Speaking of snow, a fair amount had entered with her. What wasn’t clinging to her clothes had been tracked in on her boots, which looked quite solid and nothing like her regular heels, thank goodness.

“Did you walk here?” he asked with a disapproving frown.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, stomping her feet and trying in vain to keep the mess to his welcome mat. “Dad had already left with the van on a large order for the hospital, and I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. The storm picked up quick!” The red in her face, embarrassment or the cold he couldn't be sure, made her eyes shine. They were such a lovely blue.

“But, I’m here now,” she said quickly. “And look, your flowers made it.” To prove it, she marched up to his counter, laying the bundle down for him to confirm.

Said bundle was flat from being held against her chest for the single mile that separated their shops, and the wrapping was encased in snow, quickly melting. The roses themselves looked to be in good enough condition, if a little shaken.

“So they have,” he agreed softly. He tapped the counter, a wisp of an idea forming.

Belle smiled. “I could have waited until tomorrow,” she admitted. “But it was snow today and I thought—I mean slow. It was slow, probably because of the snow.” The red this time was definitely from embarrassment. “Anyway, I thought it’d be nice if you had your flowers to get you through the blizzard.”

She was adorable. Gold hoped his face wasn’t too dopey.

He noticed when she pulled her coat tighter against her, and saw she wasn’t wearing a scarf, didn't have a hat.

Gold kept the front of his shop just a tad too cool to be comfortable in winter in order to encourage the good townsfolk to state their business and get out. Coming inside was not the relief from the storm it could have been.

Ah, yes. There was his idea, turning into a plan. The universe had thrown him a bone.

“You’re not intending to walk back?” he asked carefully. “You barely made it as it is.”

“Oh, well.” She at least had gloves on, but they didn’t look thick enough for Gold’s liking. “I already closed the flower shop. I was going to walk home when I finished here.”

Gold tried to keep the eagerness from showing on his face. The house she rented with her father was twice as far as Game of Thorns, and in the opposite direction. On a nice day, the walk was pleasant. With a blizzard raging? Unthinkable.

He told her as much.

“I guess I could ask Dad to swing by to pick me up,” she said, digging out her phone and tapping on the screen. “You know, whenever he finishes with his delivery.”

“Great idea.” Gold lifted the bouquet, keeping as much as the melted snow on the wrapping as he could; he didn’t want to waste anytime cleaning, not when he finally had Belle all to himself.

“I think the storm will stop soon, anyway,” she said, ever the optimist. “How much longer can it keep up?”

Knowing Maine, easily for the next week. “Come on then.”

“Sorry?”

Gold was halfway through the curtain, roses snug in his arms. They’d perk up when they were submerged in water, rather than swimming in it. “Come warm up. I have the space heater on.”

“In the back?” Her eyes were wide.

Had he overstepped? He couldn’t think how. “I put the kettle on to boil. Should be ready any moment now.”

She took a hesitant step forward eyeing the curtain as if it hid a trap door. “I mean, if it’s okay.”

“I insist. Come have a cup of tea.”

He held the curtain to the side, happy when she stepped ahead of him.

Today was the day, after all.

The first thing Belle noticed was things. Shelves stuffed full of boxes and baubles, careworn tools and rolls of fabric. The worktable took up a fair amount of space as well, with an aisle just because enough for a slim man with a cane to walk through.

The second thing she noticed was a bed, no larger than a twin, tucked away in the corner. She bit her lip, filing that detail away for much later.

The sound of Gold stacking what looked like his account books caught her attention. He pulled out the chair that was closest to the heater, beckoning her to sit.

“How do you take your tea?” he asked, opening a cupboard and taking out two cups with matching plates.

“Straight, please,” she said, stuffing her gloves in her coat pocket, before peeling it off and draping it over the back of the chair.

Belle tried to look around with her greedy little eyes, but her attention was drawn to Gold, his fluid movement as he did nothing more than carefully scoop tea into a strainer ball. Even him pouring the hot water into the teapot, an elegant porcelain piece with a long sprout and blue feathering, was captivating. The packet of chocolate chip cookies that were spread out on a plate caught her attention too, albeit for a different reason.

“Am I forgetting something?” he asked, noticing her gaze on him.

“No, no,” Belle said, not looking away.

In no time at all, the tea was poured, a cookie nibbled, and Mr. Gold was sitting next to her on a stool he pulled out from under the bench.

The silence wasn’t overbearing, but she still looked around a little desperately, trying to find something interesting to say.

“What were you reading?” Gold asked.

“Reading?”

“This morning, when I placed my order. You were holding a book.”

“I was,” she said, feeling warm. It wasn’t from the tea. “It was A Christmas Carol.”

“A classic,” he said, eyebrows raised.

From there it was easy. Talk of the book moved to talk of the movies, turned to which adaptation was the best one. As it turned out, they both agreed that the Muppets took it, hands down.

Belle rubbed the handle of her teacup, the porcelain warm. She felt lightheaded, if she were honest. The dim light of the back room, paired with the quiet burr of the heater, the quiet burr of Gold’s voice, the full force of his attention, finally, after all this time—it was too much. He was gazing at her with a softness in his eyes she’d never seen before, and it was all much too much. She felt she might float away.

So of course, that was when Belle’s coat chimed. She wanted to groan when Gold cleared his throat, looking away.

Pulling out her cell phone, she saw the message was from her father, asking where she was. Oh. Lovely.

“Dad made it home,” she said with forced lightness.

Gold frowned. “Home?”

“I guess my message didn’t send,” Belle said, knowing full well she hadn’t actually sent one. “Must have, um, the network?” She shrugged, giving up on lying quickly. “But it looks like Dad went straight home after his delivery.”

“I see.”

Her phone pinged with a new message, and her stomach dropped at what it told her. “He says it's really nasty out. Couldn’t get the van all the way up the street, so he legged it the last two blocks.”

That wasn’t the best news. It was, arguably, quite bad. She could feel her plan backfiring in real time.

“It sounds unsafe, to ask him to come,” Gold said.

The only thing she could give him was a tight smile.

It had been a simple thought, if a little impulsive: pretend that she was stranded here at Gold’s shop, in the middle of heavy snow. When it became apparent her father wasn’t coming, she’d ask oh-so-sweetly for a ride home. Gold was a gentleman. He wouldn’t refuse. That she was sitting nice and toasty in his backroom with no prompting from her proved as much.

Her plan wouldn’t only have extended her time with Gold, but also been the perfect opening to ask him out to dinner as a thank you.

“Er,” she said, looking lost. Belle hadn’t considered just how bad the storm was.

“Miss French,” he said, clearing his throat again. He had the look of someone trying to deliver bad news as delicately as they could. “I’d drive you home myself, but if your father’s van can’t make it through this snow, my Cadillac certainly won’t, either.”

“I understand.” She had done this to herself. She accepted that.

“I apologize,” he said, and to his credit sounded like he meant it.

“It’s not your fault,” Belle said, rallying herself. She pushed her chair out, ready to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Gold asked, alarmed.

“Home. Looks like I’m walking after all.” Belle reached for her coat, surprised when Gold’s hand closed over hers. It was dry and warm; she felt a pleasant thrill shoot through her arm.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m wearing boots.”

“I don’t care if you’re wearing skis strapped to rockets, you’re not going out there.”

Belle blinked at him, but didn’t move, not wanting to sever the contact. “What do you suggest then?”

“Staying here,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“For how long?”

“However long it takes for the storm to clear. Mr. Tillman will be out to plow as soon as it stops. I’ll drive you home when it’s safe.”

Taking advantage of Mr. Gold’s goodwill for a cup of tea was one thing. Forcing his hand to shelter her for hours was something else entirely. But there was a part of her, quite a large part, that wanted to press her advantage. And he was offering.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to put you out,” she hedged.

“Miss French, I insist.” He licked his lips, tugging gently on her hand. “It might not be the most comfortable option, but it’s better than getting lost in a blizzard.”

“I guess you’re right,” Belle said, sitting back down.

“Yes. I am,” he sniffed. “Glad we agree.” From the look on his face Gold hadn’t expected such quick acquiescence, but wasn’t going to complain.

“For the record,” she said, smiling. “I’m quite comfortable.”

Surprised pleasure bloomed across his face. “I’m happy you think so."

“I do. Thank you, Mr. Gold, for letting me stay.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said quickly. “You don’t want to be out there.”

“Really,” Belle agreed. “I mean, how much longer can this last, right?”

It wasn’t the first time either of them alluded to such a thing that night, but it must have been one time too many.

The lights above them flickered for a breath of a moment, then cut out.

Because of course they did.

“Ah,” Belle said into the sudden darkness. She wondered if Gold heard her over his cursing.

“No, don’t move, please, just. Stay there,” Gold said, his chair scraping against the hardwood.

“Wait,” she said, scrambling to turn on the flashlight app on her phone. “Here, so you don’t trip on something.”

In the light, she could see one corner of his mouth lift. “I know my way around the shop, my dear, but thank you.”

He turned, illuminated as he brushed the curtain aside. She heard the tap of his cane as he walked to the front. There was a clock, somewhere to her left, that ticked down the seconds he was gone.

The curtain signaled his return. “The whole of main street is out. Probably most of the town, too.”

Belle made a noise to show she was listening.

“I, um. I think we might be here much longer than a few hours,” he said. Belle hadn’t realized how many whirring, buzzing things there had been in the pawnshop; between the generator, the lights, the space heater, even the mini fridge that Gold had kept the milk. When it all cut out, they weren’t just left in darkness, but complete silence. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing, and the clock.

“Yes,” she said into the stillness. “I think you’re right.”

“Please, just take the cot.” Gold said for the hundredth time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Belle said for the hundred and first. “What will people say when they find out you froze to death in your own shop?”

“I have my coat. It’s not that cold.”

“I can hear your teeth chattering.”

She could do no such thing. Gold sighed, feeling weary. They’d been arguing for the last twenty minutes at least.

It hadn’t taken long for the cold to creep in after the power went out. Bundled up in their coats, they’d used the rest of the hot water for a last bit of tea, and neither one complained about their dinner being the rest of the biscuits.

When the question of sleeping arrangements arose, Gold thought it was obvious: Belle could take the bed and the nice blankets, and he would watch over her, stalwart and uncomplaining.

The stubborn woman was hearing none of it.

“I can survive a night in the chair as long as I know you’re taken care of.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a glare, “but not very practical.”

Practicality had nothing to do with it. The candles flickered on the table. He kept a handful in his cupboards for this very situation, and it helped Belle to save her cell phone battery if they should need it when the service came back on.

He stared at the flames. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’d be much more comfortable if I were warmer,” she shot back. She had at least made it as far as sitting on the cot, boots kicked off and feet tucked underneath her. “We’re small people. We can both fit.”

They couldn’t, not unless she were wrapped around him like a scarf. It sounded like a dream to Gold, but he wouldn’t fool himself into thinking it was what she actually wanted.

“You’ll sleep easier if it's just you on it.”

“If you refuse to share with me, then I’ll stay at the table with you.” She patted the quilt underneath her. “We can share the blankets. Wear them like cloaks.”

“No.”

“Really, Mr. Gold.” A pout had begun to pull at her lips. It was cute enough to kiss away, which was exactly why he’d stay where he was, thank you. “Think of my toes.”

“Your. . . toes.”

“Yes. They’re so cold right now, I think they might actually fall off. And you’re sitting there, miles away, doing nothing about it, when you could get on the bed with me, and keep me and my toes warm.”

“It might help if you got under the blankets, first.”

“And if they fall off,” she said, ignoring him, “I will sue you for damages.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. “Sue me?”

“What would the town say then, hm? Mr. Gold being taken to court because Belle French can’t wear heels anymore.”

That would be a tragedy all on it’s own. “You seem under the impression I give a damn what the town thinks of me.”

“What about what I think? I’d be very upset with you.”

“Unthinkable,” he murmured. The pout was back, her lip protruding. Gold’s resolve was slipping. It was bloody cold in the shop. His hands felt like ice, he couldn’t feel his feet at all. It would be warmer on the bed with two, he knew that much.

“Please share the bed with me?” Belle asked, going in for the kill. Her eyes shone in the candlelight. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but there’s no sense in either of us being cold tonight.”

Endless moments passed. How did she get her eyes to shine so brightly?

“Alright,” Gold said.

If he thought she was shining before, it paled in comparison to the smile that lit up her face.

She stood when he did, pulling back the blankets. She shimmied out of her coat, too, laying it over.

“We’ll be warmer if we use the coats as extra blankets,” she said innocently, reaching up to help him out of his. “Keeping them on will suck away body heat, not hold it in.”

While she spread his coat over hers, he removed his suit jacket, laying it over the back of the chair. If they needed it, it was within reach. His belt and shoes soon followed.

When he looked at the cot next, he was greeted with Belle, tucked in and holding one corner of the coverings up, ready for him to slip in next to her.

He could deny her nothing.

After blowing out the candles, he settled in.

The weight of the blankets was pleasant, especially with the added coats. It couldn’t compare to the weight of Belle, solid and warm.

Gold shifted to his back, Belle happily curling around him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. His arm came around to rest in the hollow of her back.

“Is this okay?” she asked, rubbing her face against him.

Tentatively, Gold ran his hands up her spine. She sighed, snuggled closer.

“It’s perfect,” he decided. Gold didn’t know why he had resisted for so long.

Belle sighed again, deeper, sinking further into his arms. Her leg hooked around his, twining together, her thigh brushing his groin.

Ah, right. That was why.

Maybe he could convince her to go back-to-back. Or he could turn to his side, let her be the big spoon. Now that was an excellent idea.

Her hand, delicate and soft, touched lightly on his shoulder. “Is this still okay?” she asked.

It was agonizing torture. “Yes.”

A pause. “It’s just, you’ve gone rigid.”

He huffed, willing his body to relax.

“It’s fine,” he said.

They lay together in the dark, simply breathing each other in. The clock on his workbench dutifully whirred on, and the soft but distinct tickticktick pulled him into a sort of trance.

Belle began to rub circles into the fabric of his shirt and he felt himself sink further. He could smell her floral shampoo. He nuzzled her, gently, hoping she wouldn’t mind.

“Gold?” Belle asked, breath blooming against his neck.

“Hm?” he hummed. His eyes were closed. He didn’t remember doing that.

“What would you say if I told you that skin-to-skin contact is much more efficient to staying warm?”

Her limbs tightened around him as if she was sure he’d leap from the bed and away from her. He didn’t want to do that, though, even as what she was asking sunk in.

Gold swallowed, afraid of being too honest in the dark. “I suppose I would accuse you of trying to seduce me.”

He felt her relieved sigh. “Would it work?”

“You’re doing a great job of it as it is.”

Her breath staggered. Her hands played with the buttons on his shirt, but didn’t slip them through their eye holes.

“And do you want to be seduced?” Her nose mapped a trail from behind his ear along his jaw, and he was about to combust.

His answer was to grasp her hair at the base of her neck and pull her towards him. He overshot, his aim terrible in the dark. Her lips landed on the edge of his top lip, brushing the curse of his nose.

Still holding her close, he flipped them, so he was above her. He cradled her head, his hands combing through her lush hair. Oh, yes, much easier to kiss her like this. Belle agreed if her happy moan was anything to go by; that and the way her legs parted, allowing him to rest against her fully.

“I’ll keep you warm,” he whispered into her ear, reveling in her shiver.

“I want you, Gold.” The words had barely left her mouth before he was kissing her again.

“Silas,” he said. “My name is Silas.” Belle ran her hands up his arms, her fingers sinking into his hair.

“Silas,” she breathed. “I want you so much.”

He kissed her, hard, tongue demanding entrance that Belle happily granted.

If the night was spent only kissing and maybe heavy petting, it would have exceeded Gold’s expectations by a considerable degree. Belle clearly had other plans, though, as he found out when her hands touched his bare chest.

He jolted, her cool hands searing as they touched him. The minx was adept at unbuttoning a shirt, he’d give her that. She was also proving quite skilled at undoing his trousers; they pushed them down his thighs together, Gold leaning a little to the side so he could get the leverage to kick them to the end of the cot.

Now that he was bare, it seemed only fair that Belle be next. Gold grasped the end of her sweater, pushing it up, up, up. When he threw it down to the floor, she hissed at the cold air as it made its way into their cocoon. It was worth it for the wide expanse of warm skin he now had to discover. Fuck, she was soft.

Gold’s hands clutched at her sides as he mouthed her breasts, the nipples already tight buds.

“Silas,” she moaned, thrusting her chest up. While his mouth was occupied, he peeled her leggings down as far as he could reach without outright sitting up. She took the hint, kicking them to the end of the bed to join his trousers.

Gold adjusted the blankets, making sure they were covered, and that Belle was warm underneath him. She panted, breath heavy as he kissed across her collar bone. He trailed down to the top of her chest, mouthing at the hollow at the swell of her breasts while his hand trailed to her cunt.

Her core was molten.

“Fuck,” Gold hissed, feeling the wet heat of her.

“Please, Silas” Belle said, bucking her hips into his hand. “Fuck me.”

Cock in hand, he guided himself into her. If he thought she was hot on his fingers, it didn’t come close to her wrapped around his prick

“Oh, Belle,” he moaned, lost.

They set a slow hard rhythm; not wanting to displace the blankets, Belle angled her hips up, cradling Gold while he rocked in and out.

Pulse by pulse, breath by breath, he had never felt so good. Belle raised her knees higher, allowing more of him to sink inside her. Her breath hitched when he hit a good spot. He hit it again, harder.

Silas kissed her along her neck, wet sucking kisses that landed in time with his hips. He wished he could see her, wanted to memorize the look on her face and he gave this to her. The dark brought into focus the sure touch of their wandering hands, the vice of her cunt as she took him.

“Are you close, love?” he asked, gaining speed, his thrusts becoming shallow. His hand sunk down to just above where they joined, rubbing her clit as she moaned in his ear.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she said, words breathy. She kissed his jaw, hands weaving into his hair, pulling as she clenched—as she came—as her legs wrapped around him beseeching him to follow her.

He could deny her nothing.

She woke in the night, the room dark and cold. Silas was a furnace next to her, his arm stretched across her ribcage keeping her anchored. She smiled, wiggling against him, relishing being so close to him.

Silas’ heart was steady and strong beneath her ear. Sweet music. Belle turned her head to kiss him there, over his heart. She trailed her nose down, to the side, finding his nipple. She kissed that, too. Then closed her mouth over it, sucking.

Silas grunted, but didn’t wake. A final lick, and Belle moved downwards, further into their nest.

Boney and warm; his hip, she thought. Belle kissed it, regardless.

Silas hummed, shifting slightly. Belle kissed him again, moving further down, and a little to the side, until her lips met with a wiry patch of hair.

“Belle?” he asked, voice muffled and heavy with sleep.

In answer she licked him, just over his pubris. The muscles jumped, and she felt his shudder.

“Belle,” he moaned. The sound pulled at something deep in her belly. “Please.”

“Hm?” she asked, kissing back the way she came, away from his curls.

His moan this time was agonized. “Your mouth, sweetheart. Please.”

“My mouth?” she asked, innocently, nibbling on the spot just below his tummy, sucking the skin into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he said, hips jutting.

Belle licked him. Another kiss, another suck. She breathed him deep, the whole of him. That she could make out her own scent dried on his skin had heat pooling low in her belly. They tasted so good together.

“Belle, please,” Gold tried again. “Put your mouth on my cock.”

She hadn’t expected him to ask. In reward, she stopped her teasing, using her hand to grasp and position him before taking him past her lips.

Their moans mixed together; his from the sweet heat, hers from the perfect way he filled her. What a discovery, that they fit together perfectly no matter the circumstance.

Next when she woke, the lights were still off, the cold no less harsh as it nipped at her nose. She could see the morning sun peak through the single window signaling a new day and a break in the storm.

Belle tried not to grumble as she rolled over, burrowing under the blankets and pressing her cold nose into Silas’ chest.

He shook with a silent laugh, and she wondered how long he had been awake.

“Good morning,” he said, pressing a kiss to her crown. His voice was scratchy in that unused-sleepy way, and it made Belle’s toes curl.

She could get used to waking up to this. She wanted to get used to it very much.

A buzzing from the table made her pause. She turned her head, sure she knew the source.

“Your cell phone,” Silas confirmed. “It keeps going off.”

She kissed his chest, right above his heart. “You didn’t wake me.”

“You’d have answered it if I had.”

Belle made a noise of agreement, even as she made no move to leave the cot. Or more accurately, leave the circle of Silas’ arms, which were wrapped around her snugly, one hand rubbing patterns into her lower back.

“Someone will be by to dig us out, now that it’s morning,” he said.

He sounded less than pleased, which pulled a smile from her. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

His response was immediate. “Of course.” He wet his lips. “Perhaps, ah.” His hair was tangled on the pillow, and there was a nice hickey forming on the curve of his neck, another one just under his collarbone.

He looked ravaged, ruined; very thoroughly and happily debauched.

“Perhaps?” Belle hooked her leg around his thigh, her heel touching the back of his knee. She felt his cock stir in interest.

“Perhaps, I mean, if you wanted to…”

Belle bit her lip. They were naked, still wrapped around each other after a night of the best sex she had ever had, and he was too shy to ask her out on a date.

It really put her stargazing into perspective. They’d work on it, she decided. They had the time.

“I’d like to do this again,” she told him, catching his eye. “In less pressing circumstances."

He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers, voice sweet and hopeful. “Let me make you dinner.”

Belle had only just pressed her lips to his when her phone gave a particularly judgmental vibration. She left the blankets long enough to snatch it from the table, before she tucked herself back next to Silas, who welcomed her back happily.

She awakened the screen to see she had 7% battery left. Just enough to tell her father she was safe and warm, and that she’d be home in the afternoon after plenty of time for the snow to settle and Tillman to plow.

And a few other things she chose not to mention.

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumbelle secret santa

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

The Waves (250 Drabbles)

250 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Hvitserk/Reader, a lil bit of Ivar/Reader (couldn’t help myself, sorry)

Prompt: “Come back. Even as a shadow, even as a dream.” (Euripides)

Word Count: 995

Warnings: Major Character Death (the reader, already dead), Heavy Angst, I’m sorry folks.

A/N: Yeah, I made myself sad with this one.

In this universe Sigurd is alive but away, and Ubbe left for Dublin, leaving Ivar and Hvitserk alone together.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @xceafh

“Each time we sat here you asked me if I had any regrets,” Hvitserk starts, sitting on the shore of Kattegat’s coast, white sand that was once warm and soft now cold and harsh. “I still don’t.

Years since he found you dead and cold on the center of the main hall, carried there by the screams of the people that couldn’t help themselves in sharing the news that Aslaug had been attacked, that her daughter in law had saved her, at the cost of her own life.

Strangely, or maybe mercifully, he doesn’t remember much of that day. He remembers Sigurd’s voice breaking as he held Margrethe and tried keeping her calm. He remembers the sound Ubbe made when he dropped on his knees to the floor. He remembers Ivar’s unhinged screams that broke into agony as he demanded they find who did this.

It has been years, since that day. Yet each year he returns here, to this very spot on the coast where he can still imagine you sitting by his side, smiling his way and promising him he was destined for great things.

“The Gods…” He bites his lip, tries finding the certainty his brother has on why it was Fate you were taken from their side. “The Gods summoned you to Valhalla, and I know you are supping with Ragnar, and your sister, and…and all the others we lost along the way. I hope the tales they have to tell keep you entertained. O-One day we will meet again, and I will have many new stories to tell you.

He smiles, and he can pretend you’re hearing, and smiling too, with that wide smile and those shining eyes that told him you clung to every adventure he spoke of.

“I can’t help but resent them. The Gods. F-For taking you from me,” Hvitserk confesses, and the waves rush to the shore, the sea grows enraged. “I can’t help but think them selfish, and cruel.

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t remember how many times he has had this conversation with the wind, how many times he’s sat here and talked to your ghost and demanded answers he never got.

“It doesn’t get easier, anyone who says that is an idiot or a liar,” He laughs at himself, it sounds wrong in his own ears. “It isn’t the same as that first day, that’s true. It changes, it…it keeps me suspended, hanging.

Like the waves against the coast, grief quietens and heightens.

Some days they barely lap at the shore, the ghost of you is merely a shadow in the corner of his eye and the pain in his heart is easily quietened by the warm memories he still has to hold on to.

Other days the waves are restless, and they are angry and loud, and his chest demands to know why it is hollow, and he wants to scream until his throat goes raw, and he never understood Ivar’s rage like he does when he wants to find the Gods to look them in the eye and ask them why.

And on other times pain and grief swallow him whole, and the ocean is dark and enveloping him, and the waves are the kind that threaten a kingdom with doom. And he can’t escape the ghost that isn’t really there, he can’t find memories to hold on to because all he can think of is the memories that you never made, the things that never happened.

Shaking fingers bring to his lips the pendant of Freyja he couldn’t let them bury you with, that he has kept with him as a hope maybe you’ll return to him to ask for it back.

“Love, I’m…I’m drowning. The waves don’t let up, and I…I don’t know how long I can stay above water.

It is a plea, even if he doesn’t say it. That he can turn around and see you there, a ghost to haunt him, a memory to accompany him.

Ubbe has left them for dreams of settling, Sigurd has a wife and child to care for now, and he’s all alone with Ivar, and neither of them can shake off this feeling of being paralyzed before the nothingness of solitude.

“I don’t know what to hold on to, who to turn to,” He confesses, offering a shrug and a watery smile, “You know me, I never fared well alone.”

He waits for an answer, but he only hears the waves meeting the coast.

Hvitserk closes his eyes, trying to bite back pain, tears, rage. He stands up, and when he turns to the city at his back, he comes face to face with Ivar.

He walks closer to his brother, “What are you doing here?”

But Ivar doesn’t reply with the same anger, he only takes uncharacteristically tranquil eyes off of Hvitserk’s and looks at a spot on the coast.

His brother’s lips curve into a faint smile, and Hvitserk cannot help but wonder if he hopes to see your ghost too.

“You weren’t the only one to lose her, brother.” Is all Ivar replies, eyes lingering for a few moments too long on the waves before he meets Hvitserk’s eyes again.

“At least we aren’t alone.” He tells his little brother, offering a smile that the other man sees through. Ivar replies with a non-committal shrug that says he isn’t sure that is a good thing, but there’s still softness in the curve of his mouth.

When the other man motions with his head for them to get moving, Hvitserk nods, and starts the trek back to the longhouse.

Just before losing sight of the coast, they stop, as if a string ties them to that spot, and the brothers turn around.

Hvitserk sees your smile, wide and blinding as you look at them both. You sit on that coast, the tranquil waves lapping at your bare feet, and in your eyes shines the answer he asked for.

____

Hold on to your brother, you dumdum! - Reader, screaming from Valhalla.

But yeah, I’m sorry. I needed to write an angsty piece, but I couldn’t bring myself to write anything even close to canon so, here you go.

Hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading!

#hvitserk vikings #hvitserk x reader #hvitserk #hvitserk imagine #250holyfuckthankyou #250 holy fuck thank you

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midnight-queery · 4 years

Text

how very polite of you

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26354770

“So, let me get this straight,” Sam started, setting her glass of wine down on the table. Lena snorted at the phrasing, and Sam shook her head. “Kara kissed you.”

“Yes,” Lena mumbled, her eyes darting down to her own glass of wine and staying there. She took a quick swig as Sam did her best to maintain a neutral expression.

“And… you thanked her.” Sam was very proud of herself for not laughing. She could laugh later, when her friend wasn’t slouched on her couch, miserable because of her own screw up. Still, she couldn’t resist: “How very polite of you.”

Lena groaned, very loudly, and hid her face in her hands. Sam still managed not to laugh, though she honestly wasn’t sure how at this point.

“Are you trying to wake Ruby up?” Sam asked, a small smirk on her face. Lena peeked out from between her fingers and shook her head. “Anyway, Lena, I really don’t see why you’re here.”

“Because I fucked up. And usually when I fuck up I can go to Kara. But in case you haven’t realized, that’s not really an option,” Lena snarked. She deflated under Sam’s unimpressed gaze. “I don’t know what to do, okay? You’re supposed to be my friend- help.”

“What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Friend… magic? I don’t know!” Lena waved her hands erratically. “Kara always found a way to make it better. So just… channel Kara.”

“You want me to channel the person who kissed you? Sorry, Lena, but I’m taken.” Sam leaned back with a smirk and Lena groaned, more quietly this time. Sam sipped her wine as she waited for her friend to get her thoughts in order. Lena remained quiet. It seemed one kiss from Kara had the ability to rob her genius brain of coherent thoughts. Okay then. “When I said I didn’t understand why you were here, I meant I didn’t understand why you were talking to me,” Sam tried. Lena stared at her blankly. Was Kara really that good of a kisser? Geez. “Lena, you should be talking to Kara about this. Then once you two are together and have finally acted on all the sexual tension you force us all to suffer through, you can come back to me and give me all the juicy details.” Sam gave Lena a wide smile as the young Luthor’s brain seemed to short circuit.

“I can’t talk to Kara about this,” Lena finally said. “Are you insane? Did the Luthor madness somehow rub off on you?”

“Since when are you mad?” Sam blurted.

“Well I certainly feel like I’m losing my mind,” Lena grumbled. “She kissed me and I said thank you. Who the fuck does that?” Lena flopped back onto the couch with another loud groan. Before Sam could shush her the sound of footsteps could be heard from the hall. “Fuck,” Lena whispered.

Sam hoped it would be Ruby who had woken up. Sam really, really hoped it had been Ruby. She could send her daughter back to bed. She couldn’t do the same with-

“Alex?” Lena blurted, startling. “What the hell are you doing here? Oh. Oh my god. Oh, fuck.” Lena turned from a bleary-eyed Alex to Sam, her eyes narrowing accusingly. “Sam, why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were dating Kara’s sister? Or that she was currently here?” Lena hissed.

“Uh, well, it’s still new, is all. And we didn’t want to tell you yet because we knew you’d tell Kara. And she apparently threatened to throw Alex’s last girlfriend into the sun or something,” Sam said hurriedly.

“I can keep a secret,” Lena said with a pout. A pout. An actual, genuine, making-Sam-feel-even-worse pout. Alex voiced Sam’s thoughts almost to the letter.

“Ugh, now you’re pouting too? You hang out with Kara too much,” Alex grumbled. She plopped down beside Sam and leaned against her, her sleepy eyes trained on Lena. “Why are you here so late? Or early, I guess. What time is it? Wait, where’s my phone?” Alex started shoving her hand between the couch cushions, apparently having lost her phone before bed and only now realizing when she needed a clock to better berate Lena for her early morning visit.

“No reason,” Lena said quickly, shooting Sam a death glare. Sam only rolled her eyes.

“Lemme guess,” Alex drawled, giving up her search and nudging Sam to search her side of the couch, “you’re having some kind of gay awakening and realizing you’re in love with my little sister.”

Lena looked like she was having a stroke, but Alex was too focused on the phone Sam had just fished out of the cushions to notice.

“Or at least that’s what Sam would have me believe,” Alex grumbled, mostly to herself. “She keeps insisting you two like each other. I don’t really see it.” She glanced up at Lena and froze. “Wait, what’s with that face? What happened?” When Lena remained silent, her mouth opening and closing but no words coming out, Alex turned to Sam.

“Sam, don’t-” Lena tried, but it was too late.

“Kara kissed her and she thanked her instead of admitting her feelings and she came to me instead of talking to Kara cuz she may be a genius but she’s kind of a dumbass,” Sam rushed out, a guilty look on her face. Lena looked like she was wishing for her quarterly assassination attempt to come early. Alex just looked between them both, blinking owlishly, before looking down as her phone buzzed with an incoming call.

“Well, that would explain why Kara is calling at… 3:27 in the morning. And why I have… holy shit, 33 missed calls? I didn’t even realize either of you were gay, and now you’re both gay disasters? C’mon,” Alex grumbled. Sam snorted. Lena hid her face in her hands again, and Sam nearly guffawed when she heard her mumble something about how she at least had a functional gaydar. “I heard that. Now both of you shut up. If I don’t answer the phone Kara is going to-”

Whatever Alex said was drowned out by the front door being thrown open so hard it bounced off the wall with a loud bang, a panicked Kryptonian storming in with a small metal ball in her hand that Sam was pretty sure used to be her spare key. Maybe Sam should rethink having a super strong alien babysit her child. Then again, said alien usually wasn’t freaking out about kissing her best friend, so it should be fine once the two dumdums talked things out.

“Alex you weren’t answering your phone and it’s an emergency and I know you’re dating Sam and we need to talk about that later but I need your help cuz I think I messed up!” Kara rambled. She glanced from Alex to Sam, then over at the sleepy Ruby who had padded into the living room. “Sorry for waking you up, Ruby, but I kissed Lena at our sleepover and she thanked me and then ran away and I don’t think she wanted me to kiss her and I was gonna talk to her first and tell her I’m in love with her and then ask if I could kiss her but she just looked so happy and I really wanted to kiss her and oh Rao Lena is here why is Lena here???” Kara cut off, her eyes impossibly wide and staring at Lena in horror. She did an abrupt about-face and started walking out the door.

“Kara, where are you going?” Alex asked tiredly, stifling a yawn. Ruby was watching with obvious amusement, Lena’s face was fire-engine red, and Sam really wasn’t sure how she hadn’t laughed by now. Seriously, when all this was over she was probably going to have to laugh for eighty years straight just to make up for not laughing right now.

“Back to the Phantom Zone,” Kara replied, still walking away.

“And how exactly do you plan on getting there? I really don’t think J’onn will lend you his spaceship for this,” Alex drawled.

“Brainy is working on something that’ll send lethal threats to the Phantom Zone. It’s not done yet but I should be able to finish it by tomorrow. Goodbye forever.”

Alex actually sat up straight at that, a startled look on her face.

“Kara Zor-El Danvers, get back here right now,” Alex said sternly. Sam gave her girlfriend an impressed look, but Alex’s hard eyes were trained on the slumped form of the Girl of Steel as she shuffled back into the room.

“Alex-”

“No. Sit down.” Alex pointed to the seat beside Lena’s and Kara held out for about five seconds before slumping into it. “Now, both of you are going to talk this out like adults instead of freaking out like teenagers.”

“Hey,” Ruby said, frowning. Alex glanced at her, her gaze softening, before turning back to Lena and Kara with a smirk.

“Sorry, that was an insult to teenagers. But still- you’re both adults. Talk.” Silence. Alex clapped her hands loudly, and Kara and Lena both flinched. “Kara, you first. You’re the one who decided to start this mess at an ungodly hour.”

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Kara grumbled.

“You could have at least waited until daylight, Kar. Now quit stalling.”

“Ugh, fine,” Kara whined. She turned to Lena, unable to look her in the face and only managing to glance at her every few seconds. “I- uhm. I’m sorry I kissed you. Not that, uh, not that I didn’t want to kiss you but I should have like, asked first. And told you that I’m in love with you. Or at least that I- shoot, how do humans put it? That I like like you?” Kara glanced at Ruby for confirmation, and the girl nodded. “Yeah, that. Um. So yeah. I don’t… I’m not really sure why you thanked me? Or why you left… it would have made more sense to kick me out since we were at yourpenthouse?” Kara did manage to look at Lena then, and Lena’s face was even redder. The brunette glanced at Sam for help, but Sam just crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows expectantly. Lena sighed.

“I didn’t mind that you kissed me,” Lena started quietly. “I actually, well, I actually quite enjoyed it. I just wasn’t prepared- I thought you were straight.”

“So much for having a functional gaydar,” Alex grumbled.

“Babe, you thought our first date was just friends having dinner together until I kissed you. I’m obviously the only one with a functional gaydar in this room. Nia and I have been shipping Supercorp for months.” Sam pecked Alex on the cheek to lessen the blow, and Alex grumbled about how impossible it was to stay mad at Kryptonians.

“Supercorp? I like it,” Ruby mused, walking over and plopping down on the couch beside Sam, “but maybe we could also have Karlena, ooh or Karena- but pronounced like ocarina, not just Karen with an a,” Ruby’s face scrunched up and Sam laughed.

“Sounds good, Rubes. But maybe let’s let them actually get together first.” Sam reached over and ruffled Ruby’s hair as the girl rolled her eyes.

“Alex started it,” Ruby mumbled.

“And I’m ending it. Lena, continue.” Sam gave her friend as encouraging a look as she could muster for this ridiculous situation. She’d wanted them to finally get together, just not in her living room at 4 am. Nia was definitely going to be jealous though.

“I’ve been in love with you for an embarrassingly long amount of time,” Lena blurted, her eyes going to Kara’s and staying there. “I didn’t realize at first- I thought it was just another hopeless crush on a cute blonde- but then when you rescued me and revealed you were Supergirl in the process I realized I was more hurt than mad, and then you were trying so hard to make it up to me for not telling me sooner and I decided to give you a second chance and, well I don’t give second chances, but I did for you. That’s why I was so skittish when we first started being friends again, because I realized I was in love with you and that there was no hope of a Super ever loving a Luthor.” Lena took several deep breaths when it was all out, and Sam had the feeling she’d been bottling up those words for awhile now. They apparently needed to have more girls’ nights without the Danvers sisters in tow (Nia could still come though… unless they wanted to complain about their girlfriends’ dangerous jobs, then the other vigilante hero was out).

“Lena,” Kara said softly, a hint of admonishment in her tone. “you’re not a Luthor, or at least not like that. You’re not a villain. Just look at all the good you’ve done for this planet, from the humans to the aliens to the planet itself! Your image inducer helped countless aliens live a better life here, and you’re always anonymously donating to charities, and you’ve made L-Corp the greenest company in National City by far, maybe even in this country! Yeah, you’re a Luthor, but you’ve used all of those resources and connections to start changing your family’s legacy to a good one. We are not our families, Lena. And National City may be slow to realize it, but I’ve known it for awhile now: Lena Luthor is a hero, and no last name can change that.”

And then Lena was crying and Kara was out of her chair in less than a second, doing her best to hug Lena and pressing kisses to her hair and forehead and cheeks and Ruby was watching the whole thing with the tiniest look of disgust on her face.

“Mom, please don’t ever be that mushy with Alex. I don’t think I could take it.”

“No guarantees, kiddo,” Sam said as she used her phone to snap some photos to send to Nia- she was gonna flip when she checked her phone (unless she’d already foreseen this… nah, she would have told Sam- she was about as bad at keeping secrets as Kara).

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #danvarias #alex danvers #samantha arias #sam arias #ruby arias #karlena #supergirl #supercorp crack #supercorp one shot #based on a tumblr post #lol

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