ok but its crazy to me that on almost every other social media site I go on all Im seeing is people frothing at the mouth over Amazon's live action Tomb Raider series announcement. surely the animated show being cancelled and then the live action announcement are linked right. like i dont want to sound like a conspiracy theorist but 2013 series survival Lara is VERY different to og lara croft and now both one of the og games is being remade and a live action series is coming out based on the og lara and it feels a little bit like theyre trying to brush the 2013 survivor lara era under a rug...
maybe Im just like. bitter. because survivor lara and sam are very queer coded (not even coded in the series, those bitches gay) and it feels like they're removing that part of lara in favor of her original which started to cater toward straight men. I dont like it man. Not to mention in the survivor tomb raider timeline we got a very diverse cast of people, including Jonah, who're just gonna be gone :(
Content: Subtle Yearning. Dat it. One-shot
Word Count: 1052
Warnings: Bad writing (first time writing fan-fiction), inconsistent tenses, not proof-read
btw would love feedback yall cuz idk how to write too well, english ain't my first language, and im tryna treat the helena harper drought n stuff
Rain forces itself on the car roof, dulling into a soft sound. It flows down, and as you focus on the way it merges with the other droplets stuck onto the window, you decide on a change of plans to avoid eating dinner another hour late. You don’t mind eating late, though today you’re in the presence of a sweet guest.
“Tyrell, would it be too troublesome if you drove us to The Gardens and then back home?”
“No problem Ms. [L/N], the rooftop restaurant?”
“Exactly, thank you so much” You answer with a smile, one you hope your butler caught on the rearview.
“Alright. What time should I pick you up? Would 9pm be good? It’ll be a 30 minute drive until we arrive there”
“That’s perfect.”
Of course this wasn’t a date. It was just two women, who just so happened to work together and trust each other with their lives, treating each other to Italian fine-dining. You told yourself it wasn’t an excuse to watch the way Helena’s bangs swayed when she got serious, and for her, it was just another job. Protecting you during dinner wasn’t any different from protecting you in the field. Yes. A totally normal dinner with a woman who claims that protecting you is part of her job. Given how much she rearranged her preferences, any outsider would think her job was to babysit you instead of hunting B.O.Ws.
But once again, just two girls. Nothing special. Besides, you did that quite a lot with your own homegirls, spontaneously going to restaurants, dinners, or even clubs. How could it be any different this time? You’re unsure if you ever focused on the way a woman’s bust rested against a tight-fitted vest, or how her cupid’s bow would stretch when she was debriefing the previous day’s task. But that wasn’t something to worry about. Who wouldn’t stare at a pretty woman? Maybe you did do that before and just didn’t remember it. A general appreciation for aesthetics, if you will.
But now the tension was palpable, and every small talk you and Agent Harper attempted has wisped into thin air, losing to the tension between you both. You face her, hoping that along this car ride she had stared at you as much as you stared at her. Pretty nose… what would it be like to —
God! What’s wrong with me!
So you ask the question, hoping the embarrassment is strong enough to fry your brain into thoughts of nothingness.
“Are you single?”
And those very intense brown eyes look at you, more serious and taken-aback than ever.
“Uhhh, yes… why do you ask?”
A glimmer of hope flickers on your face, one that she catches but refuses to acknowledge. Helena didn’t want to entertain her desires. What if she did end up loving you? What could her enemies make out of you? Nono… don’t think about that… you’ll never have a chance with her.
You, years younger, the way you used your grace and poise whenever an old balding director tried to shut you down, your beautiful hair, which caught the sunlight so well, would never be hers. Couldn’t be hers. How could someone like you want a problem child like her? Would you stay if she got angry one day, shot somebody who did you wrong? Or would that scare you away?
“Haha don’t worry, I was just curious. I find it hard to believe someone like you is single”
Someone like… me?
“Oh…ha I hope you meant that as a compliment”
“I did”
And once again, the moment you face the back of Tyrell’s seat, this short-lived, awkward exchange dies again, into something —
“How about you?” she suddenly asks, causing a shock in you that you quickly recover from.
You turn back so quickly you feel a strain in your neck, heart hammering against your ribs.
“Me? Well, I guess I’m just tired of men. I don’t think I’ll date at all at this point,” you chuckle lightly, remembering a recent conversation you had, “I mean you know what they say right? A great man is just your average woman, I might as well –”
“Are you tired of women?”
She didn't look away. There was no 'just kidding' smile to soften the blow. Well duh, she was a field agent. Of course she is going to be direct! At that moment, a golf ball forms in your throat, threatening to interrupt your speech.
“N-no, why?”
Heat blooms in Helena’s lower belly, knowing that she just made you stutter. A girl, once so brutal and serious in the office, so condescending when firing employees that embody incompetence, stuttering under her presence from a simple question. Perhaps this memory would linger on her middle and ring finger tonight, soakingly lulling her to sleep.
“Why don’t you open your dating pool a little then? I’ve never been with a woman myself but…since you’re so tired of men…”
You stare at her, an unknown hope being uncovered. A thought pops up in your mind — maybe Tyrell should just drive you both to your house after dinner. Helena can’t possibly miss her own house that much.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, trying to hide your newfound excitement. “Would you be willing to open your options a little?”
And so you stare at her, hand covering hers, feeling the little scars that years of missions imprinted. The physical contact weighs her insides down, and she uses her other hand to adjust the belt enveloping her. As much as you see that she wants to pull away, she doesn’t, and it reminds you of the week she introduced herself; you're surprised at your own self-control, how long it took to get here. But now that you have the confirmation, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to make the first move
You stare, and stare, and stare. You want closure, more direct confirmation, to see this divine woman break her composure, so —
Click.
The privacy divider slides up, momentarily distracting you both. The divider is not sliding up fast enough.
“Thank you, Tyrell,” Helena murmured, her eyes never leaving yours as she finally interlaced her fingers with yours, street lights reflecting off of her profile, car honks going right through your ears.
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