spiralicious (
spiralicious) wrote in
femslashficlets2018-11-30 06:13 pm
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Prompt Table Challenge - Hyacinth & Lilac
Title: Regulars
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Maria & Kim (OFCs)
Rating: PG
Prompt: The Language of Flowers - Hyacinth
Word Count: 170
Summary: The blonde was bad enough. Red's got to go.
Maria overpoured the pitcher she was refilling, watching Kim slide her hand over to grasp one belonging to the new red head sitting at the table across from her. She'd been happy when the blonde was finally gone and Kim had started coming in alone again. Kim was one of her more dependable regulars. She came in at the same time everyday, ordered the same coffee, ordered one of two pastries, and brought that same wonderful smile. If she was alone, Kim made small talk. She had a voice you could listen to for hours. Her hands were expressive, fluttering this way and that when she talked. Her rich, brown eyes always seemed to have a bit of mischief in them.
None of that was directed at Maria today. It was a cold world without them. And she didn't at all like the knowing smirk or bedroom eyes Red was directing across the table either.
And she'll always claim the tray of drinks she spilled on her was an accident.
Title: Counting Days
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Samantha/Unnamed OFC
Rating: PG
Prompt: The Language of Flowers - Lilac
Word Count: 274
Summary: Sometimes the worst part of grief is dealing with the living.
Samantha decided that the first one hundred days were the hardest. Not that the two-hundred-sixty-five days that followed were any easier and a few had been even worse, but they lacked the fresh sting of everything. It was old news at that point. Everyone else had moved on. There were fewer pitying looks, less understanding in general, and the smothering of consulting the grieving had lifted. Not that grieving had in anyway stopped, just everyone seemed to grow bored watching it. Grieving alone while having to act like life had somehow returned to normal, was its own special hell, but she'd had that grace period to get used to correcting herself from talking about her in the present tense instead of the past or still saying “ours” instead of “hers” or “mine.”
There were no classes on being a widow. Expectations were more varied and judgmental when you are also a young widow, Samantha had found. People seemed confused when they found out she was not in fact a military widow, as though that was the only way people under thirty died. There also seemed to be this expectation for her to be dating already, as if being young made you bounce back quicker with grief too. You also really learned a lot about a person when they realized your late husband was actually your late wife.
Samantha figured one day she would find all this amusing. Maybe she'd write a book. For now, she was going to lay in bed with her tea. No one was moving her today. Tomorrow would be day three-hundred-sixty-six. She would go back to dealing with “normal” then.
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Maria & Kim (OFCs)
Rating: PG
Prompt: The Language of Flowers - Hyacinth
Word Count: 170
Summary: The blonde was bad enough. Red's got to go.
Maria overpoured the pitcher she was refilling, watching Kim slide her hand over to grasp one belonging to the new red head sitting at the table across from her. She'd been happy when the blonde was finally gone and Kim had started coming in alone again. Kim was one of her more dependable regulars. She came in at the same time everyday, ordered the same coffee, ordered one of two pastries, and brought that same wonderful smile. If she was alone, Kim made small talk. She had a voice you could listen to for hours. Her hands were expressive, fluttering this way and that when she talked. Her rich, brown eyes always seemed to have a bit of mischief in them.
None of that was directed at Maria today. It was a cold world without them. And she didn't at all like the knowing smirk or bedroom eyes Red was directing across the table either.
And she'll always claim the tray of drinks she spilled on her was an accident.
Title: Counting Days
Fandom: Original
Pairing: Samantha/Unnamed OFC
Rating: PG
Prompt: The Language of Flowers - Lilac
Word Count: 274
Summary: Sometimes the worst part of grief is dealing with the living.
Samantha decided that the first one hundred days were the hardest. Not that the two-hundred-sixty-five days that followed were any easier and a few had been even worse, but they lacked the fresh sting of everything. It was old news at that point. Everyone else had moved on. There were fewer pitying looks, less understanding in general, and the smothering of consulting the grieving had lifted. Not that grieving had in anyway stopped, just everyone seemed to grow bored watching it. Grieving alone while having to act like life had somehow returned to normal, was its own special hell, but she'd had that grace period to get used to correcting herself from talking about her in the present tense instead of the past or still saying “ours” instead of “hers” or “mine.”
There were no classes on being a widow. Expectations were more varied and judgmental when you are also a young widow, Samantha had found. People seemed confused when they found out she was not in fact a military widow, as though that was the only way people under thirty died. There also seemed to be this expectation for her to be dating already, as if being young made you bounce back quicker with grief too. You also really learned a lot about a person when they realized your late husband was actually your late wife.
Samantha figured one day she would find all this amusing. Maybe she'd write a book. For now, she was going to lay in bed with her tea. No one was moving her today. Tomorrow would be day three-hundred-sixty-six. She would go back to dealing with “normal” then.