#para3

[notsoordinaryberry]

BETTER THAN ME | BERRY SIBS

Micah and Rachel Berry (and Vi) @micahrileyvincentberry

Micah’s apartment They get back from Blaine’s shop and Rachel is a little overcome with emotions.

“Thank you for letting me come over.” Rachel tells her brother as he closes the door to Violet’s room. “I know you don’t mind and Vi was happy to see me, but I really do appreciate it.” Rachel holds her arms out to Micah with the smallest little smile on her face. “Jesse isn’t home and I don’t want to think too much.”

[szaszimi]

[bored-with-dolls]

Reconnect

She was being discreet. Also because she was somehow missing hours in her days where she didn’t know where she had been or what she was doing, which scared her quite a bit to the point that she had nightmares again, nightmares where she was working for Hydra and being against her family. It shook her but she kept quiet about it, even to Carol. She didn’t want to put more worry to what she already had to deal with, she protected her like her sister. Jessica however, was not an elaborate mastermind who could vanish from the surface of the earth and so she did cross paths with Sam. She had slowed down, hoping he hadn’t noticed her, but of course she couldn’t be that lucky. Very awkwardly and quite shellclosed she saluted him. “Hey”

@samfalconwilson-avenger

[thetinystar]

[ f2f ] rachel/kitty

Scheduling a time to talk to Kitty about everything Rachel had kept secret did nothing to help sooth Rachel’s near-constant frazzled nerves. She’d leaned heavily upon her professional training, putting on brave masks and smiles, while also getting caught up in anyone’s drama that wasn’t her own. It was so much easier for Rachel to focus on other’s issues and just allow her own demons to float back into dark recesses. At least for a little while. 

Rachel felt out of sorts since since their San Francisco concerts, and then the flight overseas, but having the time to explore London and adjust to the time difference, to simply relax, had helped. But then there was the interview and photoshoot, and Rachel’s still not sure what went wrong. They were testing the lighting again, and maybe it was the flashing, or the worry about what might be asked during the next break, or what other members of the tour were saying, or what was scribbled down in the notebook each time Rachel provided an answer. But suddenly it was as if the edges of Rachel’s vision had been dipped in ink and then the room started to spin. Rachel assumed it was only self-survival and preservation forcing her body to auto-pilot her to the privacy of single-use bathroom for an attack that lasted forty-some minutes but felt like hours for her. 

And Rachel didn’t know where to start with Kitty. How she could explain to her best friend that she’d been hiding something that could affect everything when they’d never kept things from each other in the past. Rachel felt as if she had broken some unspoken code between them, some best friend bond, and she was so worried that Kitty would think it was because Rachel didn’t trust her, when it was nothing of the sort. So after they done their performances on Adam Crawford’s morning show and then broken away from the rest of the girls, the first thing Rachel did was throw her arms around her best friend in a fierce hug.

[parkerhunts]

Helping Hands

       “All yours,” Laurel called from the small bathroom as she wrapped the warm towel around her naked body. The air was moist, steam fogging up the mirror above the sink. She thanked whoever was listening for the over-sized water heaters these hotels had. There had been a few too many times when one of them had run out the hot water before the other got a turn, before they’d made the deal to either shower on separate nights or, if absolutely necessary, they would share. The latter hadn’t happened yet, but the offer still stand and more than once Laurel had almost taken him up on it, if only to have someone else wash her hair because her arms were too tired to do it herself properly.

       Wet hair dripped down her back and shoulders, little droplets meandering down her throat. She stepped out of the bathroom, motioning him to go get in while the room was still warm and steamy while trying not to notice that he’d already stripped down to his very snug fitting boxer briefs. Not that she hadn’t seen him like this before. Hardly. But sometimes it just... stirred something she’d rather leave unstirred. He was her partner and that’s all he would ever be.

       A minute or two after Gideon went in and the door closed behind him, it occurred to her that she’d forgotten her hairbrush by the sink. She could wait, let her hair dry first, but then there would be tangles. Besides, he should be in the shower already, judging by the renewed sound of running water. The towel was tossed aside, landing somewhere near the foot of one bed before she dressed quickly in comfortable pajamas, or what passed as pajamas. A tank top and boyshorts.

       “I’m just getting my brush,” she warned Gideon after cracking the bathroom door just enough to peek inside to make sure he was in the shower and hidden safely away behind the vinyl curtain. The coast was clear and she found herself letting out the breath she’d been holding. She found the brush by the sink where she’d left it and turned to leave, but something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye and she stopped. She should have kept going, she should have left the bathroom, left Gideon to shower in peace, but something made her stop, made her turn her head. That something stirred, a heat in her middle that had nothing to do with the hot water. A tilt of her head, just so... and she could see what her partner had been hiding in his boxer briefs all these years, the answer to a curiosity she’d been avoiding for a very long time. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Even soft he was impressive and she felt her face go red just thinking it.

       She hurried from the bathroom, closing the door behind her. The brush was dropped on the bed, and she dropped down with it. She had to get him out of her system. Had to relieve some of this tension while she had the chance or she wasn’t sure how she was going to look at him over the next few days of this trip. If she was quick, and something told her she could be, she could be done before he had finished his shower.

       Laurel laid on her back, one hand on her stomach before it slid down, dipping under the waistband of those boyshorts, fingers combing through the soft, short hairs until she found the little bundle of nerves and started to rub. Her eyes closed, lips parted slightly as her breathing started to grow heavy. Her free hand reached up, grabbing a fistful of pillow. She had overestimated how long Gideon would be in the shower, and she didn’t hear the water turn off, or the bathroom door open.

[quinnxfabray]

breaking point

It’d been a long week.

Work was stressful, though that wasn’t new and she could handle it. What didn’t help was a whole new kind of stress -- Marley. She didn’t know she was doing it, Quinn was sure, but her little sister was driving her absolutely crazy. She seemed to never wear a bra at home, and she constantly wore loose-fitting tops and tiny shorts while lounging around the house, and what Quinn was sure were meant to be comforting hugs and touches were lingering long enough it was easy for Quinn to imagine they were more.

It was like living with a really affectionate girlfriend. A girlfriend she could never admit she was attracted to, anyway, and every time Marley cuddled up against her to watch Netflix, her body warm against Quinn’s, she felt guilty as sin about the thoughts she let herself think. If Marley, her innocent ball-of-sunshine little sister, had any idea of the things Quinn wanted to do to her, she’d never look at her the same way again. Everything would be ruined.

So she took care of her needs in private, and repressed herself beyond that, not letting a single crack in her resolve show. She was very good at self-repression, after all, and though she was out of practice, it was apparently like riding a bike.

Evening found Quinn unlocking her apartment door while balancing a heavy pizza box in one hand, pushing the door open with a wince as Max immediately started bouncing on his paws in the doorway, whining, torn between his usual excited greeting and trying to lunge up for a bite of whatever smelled so good. “Stay down,” she said firmly. “Good boy.” She called out, “I’m home, Marls!” and set the pizza down on the kitchen counter. “And I have pizza! Unless you want Max and I to eat it all.”

[leonardo-fontana]

Perhaps one of the most timeworn and meaningless words in the English language was “Serendipity”, Leo thought. He’s read the books, watched the damn movie, and heard all the songs; yet it remained a wonder as to what these authors have been talking about. Until his move to Italy, it was a word for the Romantics who have used it as some kind of fancy-word coating to bring flavor into their art pieces. Leo did not indulge himself into such nonsense even though that deep down, he knew he had the romantic in him thanks to his still-in-love Italian parents. It just never happened in real life the way others have made it seem through lovey-dovey compositions. Even if they did happen in a non-romantic sense, people didn’t call it serendipity. They called it luck, and it wasn’t quite as beautiful.

Then he walked into a quaint flower shop on a street close to his Tattoo shop. Something beckoned him which he first mistook for a need to add rose sketches to his portfolio. He continuously fucked it up until his rose withered and he had to buy another one, and another one, and another. The lovely girl behind the counter laughed at him. It wasn’t romantic, and it was pretty rude at first, but she was pretty, and funny, and  unmistakable. It was luck. Their first date was the best he’s had so far, their second was better than the last. In the next weeks, and the next dates, they’ve grown more and more fond of each other. Suddenly, it wasn’t luck. It was what they called Serendipity, and Leo found himself dumbfounded by such a feeling. It was true what they said, you will never see Serendipity coming. Ever since their first date, Leo has found himself bringing Florentina gifts that aren’t flowers or even chocolates. He would often bring her things that may seem unusual, like a short stack of comic books to read, some kitty ears headband just so he could find an excuse to call her kitten, or just some more of his sketches. He was practically as smitten as a schoolboy. 

It was a Sunday morning and Leo was having his usual cup of black coffee. His thoughts began to wander away from the bills on the dining table that he was trying to sort out. There was an Italian girl who managed a flower shop. She was going to be kissed today in the most grand gesture. With that, he grinned, set the paperwork aside and prepared to take his Italian girl on a date. He went to the flower shop bearing a bouquet of broccoli - a part within his plans for their date that day. With a wide smile painted across his face, he entered the store and went straight for Florentina. Not saying a single word, he placed his free hand on the small of her back and pulled her against him. He leaned in and gave her a long passionate kiss in front of the customers. So it wasn’t slow, or romantic to most. It was sudden, and quite shocking; to Leo, it was a grand gesture. It said ‘fuck off, she’s mine’ in American English. It was Serendipity. He pulled away and held the broccoli between them. “Good morning.” He greeted, evidently breathless from the kiss.

( @chellyrps )

[bakedberry]

f2f: rachel & finn & quinn

Rachel had been doing work in the motel room. Cross-legged and perched against the headboard, glasses slipping down her nose, she was going through the next week’s upcoming orders and double- and triple-checking that her boys had it all under control. But then Santana had flown into the room, slammed a couple doors and then left as quickly as she arrived. And then Sugar showed up not too long after, collapsing on the other bed and bursting into tears.

It may have been cold and insensitive, but Rachel took that as her cue to leave. She didn’t know what was going on, and honestly she didn’t want to know. She’d rather stay on the outside of the bubble of what that...mess was. She quickly packed up her messenger bag and tote, and then slipped out of the room. 

The walls of the motel were thin enough that she could track down where Quinn -- and Finn’s -- room was, and after taking a deep breath, Rachel knocked three times on the door.