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twisted-crumpets · 4 years

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Hey guys, I wanted to make a g/n version of the kiss headcanons, because I felt bad that some people may not feel included or couldn’t properly enjoy the meal. If there’s any headcanons that you want me to do this for, please ask me it’s perfectly fine.

Quick note: Rook’s nickname for his darling had to be changed, because it was not gender neutral. However, this one “mon petit oiseau” (my little bird), is. This was found out through research, if I am wrong, please tell me.

━━ Trey Clover ━━

Trey was always pretty observant and soon noticed how his feelings may not be as unrequited as he previously believed.

Pink blushes and eyes dreamily locked onto each other’s for too long was sort of a dead giveaway. However, Trey wished to formally explain his feelings for his S/O.

Unfortunately, an Unbirthday Party was coming up and whilst all of the treats were made, the roses were a far cry from done and Cater begged anyone who’d listen for help.

Hearing the third year’s desperate pleas, his darling decided to meet up with Trey so they could both tackle as many roses as possible.

The job wasn’t completely unpleasant, yes they both would rather be doing something perhaps a bit more enjoyable, but they both treasured each other’s company and the small talk was rather entertaining.

It wasn’t long before it finally clicked in Trey’s mind that they were alone and peered down at his love, who was honing their all into making a stubborn rose red.

“S/O, I’m sure you are well aware but I just wanted to say.. I love you.”

His darling nodded at first before taking a violent double take and glancing at Trey, baffled and red at his casual confession.

“Hmm~ was it not obvious already? I would’ve thought you already knew.”

Teasingly chuckling at them, he pressed a gentle kiss against their crimson cheek, unable to hide his smirk. Cupping their warm face in his hands, he looked deep into their eyes to ask for permission before pressing his lips against their own.

The kiss was long and warm. It filled them both with a feeling of home and and comfort and neither of them wanted to leave.

Eventually, Trey pulled away, poking their still red face with his finger, unable to wipe his former smirk off of his face at her bashfulness.

The garden may not have been very finished, but they couldn’t care less when they had one another in their arms.

━━ Ruggie Bucchi ━━

Ruggie was worried. He always knew that he wanted to eventually confess how he feels to his love, but he knew that with essentially no money, he had limited resources.

Sneaking money out of Leona’s wallet little by little, Ruggie began to feel more confident in finding the perfect inspiration or possible gift for his beloved. As he stood in Sam’s shop, he felt a deep sense of regret for not just stealing a necklace to sell instead.

Prices so high it made him dizzy in the head and weak in the knees. Despair lingering in his chest.

That is, until he saw Trey buying some eggs which caused an idea take root in his mind. Baking was something couples did often and it did sound rather romantic. Plus, who was he to deny spending time with his love and filling his stomach for delicious doughnuts?

After class, S/O was nearly tackled to the floor by the blur that was Ruggie who had a strong determined look twinkling in his eyes. “Shishishi sorry about that... hey! Uh before you go, I’ve been asked to make some treats by Leona, but I barely know much about it. Do you mind giving me a hand?”

Tentatively, his S/O nodded their head, eyebrow raised in bewilderment before parting ways, delighted and perplexed.

Making their way to the kitchen, they began to wonder what was in store. The hyena loved to play pranks, maybe he had one in store for them?

It was however a great relief to see the cheeky student frowning at the recipe as if it was in another language.

His ears cutely twitching hearing their giggles, his head shooting up and with a grin so wide that it could’ve split his face in two adorned on his face.

Hours passed and they couldn’t deny that the evening was very gratifying, with the happy chatter and raucous laughter that filled the room. When doing a count of the doughnuts that were laid out on their tray, they soon noticed one had gone missing and quickly informed Ruggie, teasingly questioning him about its whereabouts.

“Shishishi ahhhh S/O this has been gone for ages~~ you are too easy to trick!”

Placing it back on the tray, they observed the design on the surface, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates after resist to messy “I love you” scrawled onto the surface of the small treat.

Cooing at the sweet gesture, they wrapped their arms around the trickster and softly responded to his feelings, immediately feeling him let out a gigantic sigh of relief.

Pulling away slightly, they stared at his lips entranced before finally connecting them, a cute yelp escaping from the boy.

The kiss was sugary sweet and fluffy and many more was stolen by the playful thief, accompanied by booming laughter and warm doughnuts.

━━ Jade Leech ━━

The Monstro Lounge has always been a rather busy establishment and had many a particularly busy day. Today seemed to be one of them as the orders kept piling up and showed no signs of stopping. Tireless hours catering and cleaning, until finally the crowd has thinned until the room was empty once more and the Lounge was finally closed.

Weary and stressed, Jade decided to go to the school pool and unwind. The tranquil silence flooded the room and Jade slowly sank into the room watery depths, feeling himself becoming truly serene. Which was sadly interrupted by voices from above calling his name.

With a slightly irritated sigh, he heaved himself onto the pool’s edge, scanning his surroundings with narrowed eyes. That was until they befell onto his love and instantaneously softened.

“Oya? What are you doing here S/O? Surely it is due time for you to be back in your dorm?”

His stomach suddenly felt light and filled with his butterflies learning of his dearest’s concern for him and slowly shut his eyes, not expecting them to stay and hurried rush a variety of sentences jammed together creating one love fuelled mess.

Disheartened by the lack of reply, they went to leave, slightly embarrassed before they were stopped by a cool hand wrapped around their wrist, revealing a slightly pink Jade.

“I must inform you that your feelings are not unrequited.. I love you too, my flower.”

Tugging their wrist to kneel by the pool side, he tilted his head upwards and connected their lips, completely intoxicated by the contrast between their bodies.

Gasping for air, his darling didn’t notice the toothy smile spread across Jade’s face as he pulled them into the pool, wrapping their arms around his neck and connecting their lips once more.

Addictive kisses were stolen and exchanged and neither of them could ever wish for more as they melted into one another, hearts swelling with every touch.

━━ Jamil Viper ━━

Jamil was ready to pass out. His usual menial chores were increased tenfold as a result of Kalim and his impulsive decision to let his wild pets roam free inside the dorm.

The chaos of the day finally reaching its end, Jamil dragged himself towards his room, ready to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Until, he set his eyes on his love sat patiently on his bed, instantly brightening and then furrowing their eyebrows in worry over the fatigue that seemed to radiate from every part of his body.

Ushering him to bed hurriedly, Jamil fought every urge to sleep as he inquired about why they waited for him at such a late hour.

When hearing them admit their worry for him, he scoffed and gently flicked them on the nose, thankful for the darkness of the room hiding the pink that was painted across his cheeks.

“That was rather foolish of you. This is my job and has always been, you don’t need to worry for me.”

He softened at their indignant whines of protest he brought their into a warm hug and sleepily murmured his feelings into their hair, blissfully unaware of what he just said until he felt his beloved stiffen up in his arms.

“Hmmmmm.... I love you, you know that right, Jewel?”

Calmly he apologised, unable to hide the slight disheartenment in his tone which left him as soon as he heard them shyly repeat his previous words.

Cradling their face, he pressed his lips to theirs in a small tired kiss, lips moving in sync lazily. Tiredly pulling away, Jamil crawled under his covers and gestured for them to follow suite as he pressed his warm frame against theirs and held their back close to his chest. His heart thumping wildly in joy, his brain still struggling to process the sheer amount of love he holds for his beloved.

“Goodnight my Jewel, I will wake you up in the morning.”

━━ Rook Hunt ━━

Rook had been acting suspicious. He already did have a shady appeal to him, but it was even more apparent than usual.

Whenever he appeared before them, his scent began to be rather sweet and fragrant and his hands where always stained green.

It didn’t help that he kept staring intently at his love like they was the last star in the sky, and despite his usual romantic bravado, this new behaviour screamed at them that he was planning something.

During the lunch break, Rook eagerly bounced up to them, hearts almost visible in his eyes, asking if they was free after school. Taken aback by his suddenness, they stood and stared for a while trying to gather their bearings. Agreeing apprehensively, they couldn’t hide the curiousity filling their eyes.

Upon hearing their reply, he could’ve sworn he entered heaven.

He almost launched them to the botanical garden, his heart running marathons, his mind a mess of thought out poems combining into one chaotic choir of infatuation.

With happiness radiating in every step, he took them to an picturesque area where an archway of orchids greeted them.

“Dear S/O, no amount of words could possibly describe how much my heart swoons for you, my love for you is as bountiful as the sea, encasing me in your radiance. This simple archway is a humble tribute to your golden heart, which I hope to one day own.”

Going weak at the knees at such a heartfelt confession, they responded with such excitability that could have put his to shame.

A stronger sense of devotion was glowing in the hunter’s eyes as he wrapped his toned arms around his love, span them in a circle, holding them close to his heart and kissed them with immense passion.

The kiss was fiery and warm and his darling could feel themselves melt even further into him.

The kiss went deeper and deeper, drowning them both.

Pulling away, Rook panted for air and presses his forehead against their’s.

“Hehe, mon petit oiseau, our love seems to truly be written in the stars.”

━━ Lilia Vanrouge ━━

Lilia was always very mysterious, but it truly did reach new levels of strange.

The mischievous fae had planned to hang out with his S/O a week in advance and seemed to be up to no good, with the telltale glint in his eyes being a dead giveaway.

Meeting up with his darling at their dormitory, he placed a hand on the small of their back, and began to lead them into the forest.

“Kufufufu I believe that in order for our small rendezvous to be truly enjoyable, one must insist for their guest to close their eyes and have faith in their partner.”

Apprehensively, they placed both hands into Lilia’s cold and calloused hands, shivering slightly at the temperature different between the two and closed their eyes, making them more aware of the sounds the dark forest created.

Sweet bird song and the light windy breeze clashed together in perfect harmony, gifting them the ability to completely relax and put their faith in the impish boy.

It felt as though they both had been walking for a millennia until they were finally stopped in their tracks, and the giggling from the man who was once before them turned silent.

Curiously, they opened their eyes and gasped in amazement. The scenery around them was nothing short of magnificent.

The moon had begun to peak out and painted the trees a beautiful silver. Small delicate beads of light flickering around, illuminating the forest gracefully.

Slowly turning around, they jumped at the sight of the usually talkative fae, quietly smiling lovingly at the innocent joy on his lover’s face.

“Sweet dove, the words I utter now are the words you are the true emotions that have taken flight within me. I love you. No, love isn’t enough, it scarcely passes as sufficient enough. There is no word that exists within any of the dictionaries in all the world that could possibly describe how much I cherish every part of you.”

Hearing their acceptance towards his feelings, he giggled so purely it reminded them of tinkling bells and elegantly dipped them, gazing at their loving expression that was aimed at no one but him and pressed his lips smoothly against theirs.

He could’ve sworn that nothing fit quite so perfectly as the two of them, lips moving in sync, hearts beating a thunderous rhythm, joy and mirth beaming through their lovestruck grins.

I hope you enjoyed your meal!

#twisted wonderland #twst #brain frying #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt #rook hunt x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #g/n reader

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yesttoheaven · 3 years

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I SEE YOU – chapter IV

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.3k

warnings – idk... misty being a b*tch with arthur?

a/n – hi everyone! I hope you are well because I'm brazilian and I cannot say the same lol the president is a piece of shit and he can't rule the country in the middle of a pandemic (not even without the pandemic, in fact)

anyway enjoy the chapter!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

chapter one. chapter two.

chapter three. chapter four.

"What are you doing here, Misty?" The surprise was notable in Y/N's words.

Many people could walk through that door, but Misty was definitely not one of them.

"I should ask you the same question..." The woman came over and put her hands on the actress' shoulders, smiling amiably. "But we don't have time for that right now. You have a dinner to go! And it is not right to keep a man like Charles waiting."

"Charles?" Arthur asked, trying to find a way to join the conversation. "Is he also an actor?"

After these simple words, the redhead burst out laughing and Arthur didn't understand what he had done wrong this time. He was just curious and a little interested to know who was the man who had a date with Y/N that night.

"Actor? God, have you never heard of Charles Lewis Tiffany?" Misty questioned how if the fact that Arthur didn’t know the man was an offense to humanity and Arthur just shook his head, too embarrassed to say anything else.

Who the hell was this man? The Pope? And why did Y/N have a dinner with Pope?

"It's okay, Arthur." Always so graceful, the actress reassured him and left Misty's side to be close to him. "Charles owns Tiffany & Co., the one that appears in the movie Breakfast at Tiffany's... Have you watched this movie before?"

"Oh, oftentimes!"

"Me either! And now Charles wants me to be the face of his new collection! I'm so excited, he came to Gotham just to follow it up in person!" The happiness shining in her eyes was contagious, but Misty didn’t like seeing Y/N squeeze the man’s arm gently.

"I hate to have to do this... the conversation is so pleasant, but we have to go, mon cher." With a smile, Y/N's manager adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She wanted to take the actress away from this freak as soon as possible.

"You cannot go without the VHS tape." Arthur objected, receiving a death glare from Misty, but the only thing that mattered to him was Y/N. "I'll get this for you." After these words, the man left the living room with a reason to make her stay a little longer in his apartment.

"Well, I think we're going to have to wait." Y/N shrugged, but inside she was beaming.

Feeling her mouth dry, she picked up the glass of water on the table, but that was her worst mistake.

"What are you doing? Don't drink this! That dirty glass is full of germs!" The glass was snatched from her hand and Y/N looked at Misty in disbelief.

"That glass is not dirty, Misty."

"How can you be sure of that? I heard that the Narrows sewer is one of the worst in Gotham!"

"Thanks for the lesson, but that didn’t come from the Narrows sewer. This water is from the kitchen tap."

"Oh my God..." The actress could have sworn that the woman's face turned green and she would vomit at any moment. "Why did you drink this? You'll be sick!"

Before Y/N had a chance to respond to these insanities, someone called her. She ran over to the bag and took out her cell phone. It was Charles.

"Hey, Charles! It's good to talk to you." On the other side, all she received were strange noises. The man's voice was being cut off and it was difficult to understand. "The connection is awful..."

"Why am I not surprised? Narrows is the end of the world!" Misty commented, rolling her eyes.

Without time for this discussion, Y/N said:

"Maybe in the corridor I will get a better signal."

"Be careful, you don't know what kind of neighbors there are in this place." She warned, listening to the door open and close, but Y/N said nothing.

Alone in the living room, Misty had the same disgusted look as when she arrived. For her this apartment is small even for an ant and this wallpaper is ridiculous, but in the midst of so much poverty, something on the couch attracted her attention.

"What do we have right here? I don't believe he has a diary..." The woman whispers to herself, laughing, after picking up Arthur's journal. She knew it was wrong, but she was bored.

The first few pages were OK, he had a shitty life like any other unfortunate person, but what came next scared the hell out of her. Misty knew there was something wrong with this man. The instant she saw him, she knew, but that... those words... were from a sick person. Arthur was a disgusting pervert. The redhead needed a moment to breathe and then she saw the magazines on the table and an scissors...

Oh no. He intends to include Y/N in this depravity show!

"I finally found." With bright eyes, Arthur looked for Y/N in the living room, but all he found was Misty... and his journal. "W-What... What are you d-doing?"

"Stay away from me!" She exclaimed, backing away for fear that he would do something against her. "I swear, if you get close I'll scream so loud and when Y/N comes through that door, I will tell her your little secret. She will be so disappointed, but she will finally find out who you really are... A perv!"

"N-No, please... You got it wrong." He tried, his voice taking on a desperate tone. Arthur didn't want to lose the actress's friendship. She was too important for him. "I c-can explain."

"Oh, can you explain? You will glue Y/N's head to a cat's body and then you will sit on that old sofa and touch yourself? You should be in Arkham! You're a sick person! I can't believe Y/N was alone with you..."

Arthur felt his stomach churning.

"You're wrong... I have a lot of respect for her. Y/N is special to me and I would never do something like that."

"I don't want to hear your excuses!" The woman threw the journal at him and Arthur cringed like a frightened dog. After hitting him on the back, the journal fell to the floor and when he saw those collages, he felt ashamed of himself. "Listen to me... I will say this only once: Stay away from her. It doesn’t matter what kind of fantasies you’ve created in your sick head, Y/N will not be a part of that. If I know that after today you keep talking to her, I'll call the police and when they find out you're a fucking perv, you will spend the rest of your days in Arkham." She warned with all the letters and threats, now it was up to him to choose to cooperate or not. This man is too old to play being a teenager. These images of naked women, these cats and those sad quotes in his journal prove just one thing. Maybe he's a sexual predator, but Misty wouldn't be here to find that out either. "Enjoy your pornography and leave Y/N alone. I hope I never see you again."

Arthur saw his world fall apart as soon as the redhead left his apartment with the worst assumptions about him. He was not a perverted monster. He would never touch Y/N without her consent and would never endanger her life. Never ever. Y/N was the only good thing about Gotham; she was a light at the end of the tunnel. So angelic and peaceful. Whenever she smiles, butterflies appear in his stomach and Arthur knows what these famous butterflies mean, but he doesn't know what those collages mean... If Y/N knew, she would probably be afraid of him.

In the corridor, the actress was trapped in a bubble, talking animatedly with Charles. The call had no specific reason, the man just wanted to make sure everything was fine for dinner that night.

"Okay... This is one of Gotham's best restaurants. Trust me, you will love the place!" She assured him, intending to make a good impression. It wasn't every day that she got a chance to dine with the genius behind Tiffany & Co. and represent that brand. This was an important step in her career. "Now I need to go, Charles. See you soon, bye!" Y/N hummed the ending, watching Misty approach where she was. "Why are you here?"

"It's just your friend's mom. She's not feeling very well..."

"Isn't Penny okay?" Concern crossed Y/N's face and she tried to get back to apartment 8J, but Misty took her arm, lying again:

"Y/N, don't be indiscreet. This is a family problem and Arthur is taking care of it." With those words, she guided the actress to the elevator, but Y/N kept looking at the door to Arthur's apartment. "You need to prepare for dinner... I chose a beautiful dress for you."

...

THREE DAYS LATER

"Put red on her lips... Don't forget the mascara... and on the cheeks use this blush... Not this one! The peach blush!"

It was possible to say that Charles Lewis Tiffany was taking the place of the makeup artist. The woman was losing patience, Y/N realized this, but he wanted to participate in every second of it. When she finished, Charles smiled, admiring Y/N's beauty through the mirror.

"You see? You're genuinely beautiful... I think I finally found my muse." The actress was flattered by the compliments and that reflected in her smile when Charles took a blue box, but this was not a simple blue box. This is the famous Tiffany Blue Box. "I want you to meet my new creation..." He opened the box, stealing Y/N's breath instantly. "Dramatically plunging down the decolletage, an incredible emerald-cut bicolor zoisite that shifts from violet-blue to purplish-red, depending on the angle. The pendant is over 48 carats and it's wrapped in a halo of baguette diamonds and suspended from a diamond rondelle chain of over 37 total carats."

"Oh Charles, this is absolutely beautiful. I'm speechless..." She confessed, watching him take the necklace and offer to put it around her neck. Y/N accepted immediately and when the pendant touched the white fabric of the dress, she smiled at the mirror.

"Diamonds are a girl's best friend" Charles whispered, eliciting a giggle from her. "Now I need to speak to the photographer, but take a few minutes to prepare yourself." The man smiled one last time and Y/N walked to the door, opening it for him. She took the opportunity to spy on what was happening on the other side and it was possible to say that there was a little sadness in her eyes.

"What are you looking for?" Misty's voice echoed and she closed the door quickly.

"Huh... nothing!"

The woman was checking the contract – something about image authorization – and when she took her eyes off the papers, she found Y/N with a half-hearted smile.

"Go ahead... Spill the tea."

Brian was probably smoking, so Misty was her only option.

"Arthur was busy these days, but he called me this morning... He looked nervous and said he would like to talk to me, so I invited him to accompany the photoshoot, but..."

"You did what?!" Misty left the chair, interrupting her. Not wanting to start a scene, the redhead looked at Dariela, the makeup artist, and said: "Get out." The woman immediately stopped organizing her makeup and ran out of the dressing room.

"Was that necessary?" Y/N asked, crossing her arms.

"And was it necessary to invite that maniac to come here too?"

"Jesus, Misty!" She walked to the other side of the dressing room. "Manic? Really?"

"I'm just telling the truth."

"Based on what? His bank account?"

"Based on his journal." Misty replied and the actress looked in her direction with a frown. Shaking her head, the redhead let out a bitter laugh before confessing: "He doesn't use it just to write jokes... I found a lot of pornography on those pages."

Y/N felt a little uncomfortable with that. Certain things do not need to be exposed... She didn't need to know about that part of Arthur's life and Misty just invaded his privacy.

"Well... many men consume pornography daily."

"Y/N, pornography is not the point here. He makes some weird collages... women with cat heads... skulls... one of these women was tied up in a compromising position... Can you see how problematic this is?" Misty was trying to open her eyes and consequently was scaring the actress, but that was not all. "I saw the magazines. That man will probably do the same to you... your face on the body of these naked women or on a cat's body! You have always been uncomfortable with the way men see you only as a sex symbol... and now Arthur is using you as a sex toy!"

"Stop! Just stop, okay?" Y/N demanded, using an edgy tone of voice. That was too much for her to assimilate. "You're saying this because you do not accept the idea of Arthur being my friend! All that matters to you is status, but it doesn't matter to me! When are you going to let me live my own life?"

"This is not about social classes, this man is a pervert! I'm trying to protect you!"

"Enough, Misty!" That was enough to make the redhead shut up and Y/N found her way back to the mirror.

To complete the look, inside the blue box was a beautiful diamond ring and a pair of shiny round diamond earrings, just waiting for her. Putting on the ring was an easy task, but she couldn’t say the same about earrings; her hands were shaking and this is all the fault of the stress.

"Let me help you." The manager approached and at first Y/N refused her help, but after another failed attempt, she handed the earrings to the woman. "I know I can be a bitch sometimes..."

"Sometimes?"

Misty just sighed, shaking her head.

~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~▪~~~~~~~~~~

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

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literatelogan · 4 years

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I NEVER SAID FRIENDS

part twenty-seven - day one

masterlist | previous - next

updates every mon, wed, fri @ noon CST

pairing - shota aizawa x gn!reader

genre - fluff, angst, humor

summary - it’s your first year teaching at u.a. high school and you would be lying to say you weren’t intimidated. school is months away from starting but principal nezu has taken it upon himself to set you up for success. all of the teachers will be helping you onboard but shouta aizawa has been assigned to be your mentor. he hates this but does he hate you? yes. will he stop hating you? maybe.

tws - you might cry. but it’s pure fluff.

a/n - 1.1k EEEEEEEEEE!!!! it’s here. y’all it’s here. i hope this reaches your expectations. i didn’t want to make one post for the first day so it’s going to be over a couple of posts because like...it’s a whole day and there’s a lot going on. and yes of course there will be smut coming.

It didn’t feel real. This was the day that you had been waiting for. One that was so many major things at once. Meeting Shouta in person aside, this was your first day at U.A. High School. Getting ready felt like a monumental task. You had gotten up even earlier than normal to make sure you looked your very best. You were going to see him today. No. You were going to feel him today. His hair as you weave your fingertips through it. The scruff of his chin. His lips against yours. You had a hard time believing it but as you cleaned your face, the cool water helped jolt you a bit more awake. Being late wasn’t an option. Everything had to be perfect. Your hands were trembling all day. What if everything went wrong?

You put even more effort than normal into this morning’s coffee run. Out of your way to the place that you only went when you were treating yourself. It was worth it today. As you walked onto the campus, you couldn’t help but take as deep a breath as your mask allowed. It was new. It was going to be scary. But it would be great. You had a massive support team behind you and you were going to totally kick ass. As you looked at the campus map on your phone, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your head snapped up so fast you probably could have snapped your neck. “Toshi! Wow. You really are massive in person.” Both of you let out a soft chuckle as you leaned into your mentor’s hand. “It is very nice to finally meet you, L/N. We should be getting to our meeting.”

You walked side by side with All Might into the school. Once you were inside he shrunk into the form you had only seen on TV and facetime. The blood that spewed from his mouth was pretty terrifying and you jumped. “Oh my god, Toshi! Are you going to be okay?” You moved towards him but he held his hand out to stop you. “I’ll be fine. Now I think someone is waiting for you.” You turned away from Toshi to see who he was looking at behind you. You knew who, obviously, but seeing him was still a shock. You both slowly started walking towards each other with looks of amazement.

“My darling.” Shouta said as he pulled you into him. You weren’t sure how long you two stayed still just holding each other. You only knew that you could do it forever. Your fingertips wrapped around his coffee traced circles on his back. “HEY LOVEBIRDS! YOU’VE GOT TEN MINUTES!” Hizashi’s booming voice jolted you both out of your dazed state. Nemuri joined you in laughing but Sho was not amused. He pulled you around the corner away from the meeting room. “He always has to ruin everything.”

Sho’s voice sounded deeper in person and it was different hearing him talk to someone else. He was so different with you. His hand wrapped around yours as he took his coffee from you. “How did you know that one was yours?” You asked with a bit of a smirk at him. “You were holding it with your non-dominant hand.” He chuckled a little at the funny look of confusion on your face as he took a sip. “You would have wanted to focus on not spilling mine more than yours. So you held it with your non-dominant hand which wouldn’t be opening things as much as your dominant would be.” You stared at him in amazement. “I forget sometimes how big that brain of yours is.” Brushing your fingers through a bit of his hair to tap his head, he let out a soft gasp. His head nuzzled into your hand as his eyes closed. You tangled your fingers in the strands and rubbed circles and little scratches along his scalp. “Not the only thing that’s big.” He whispered with a little bit of a whimper at your movements.

Your mouth went dry and you stilled. Flirting in person. Oh god. Flirting in person. You knew this would be happening but you hadn’t realized how much you were not prepared for it. Shouta felt you tense up a little and smiled at you. The smile that you knew was just for you. No one got to see that smile but you and it was everything. His finger brushed along your jaw and curled under your chin to nudge your face higher. You didn’t realize that your gaze had dropped until it met Shouta’s again. His intense eyes could be terrifying. You saw that enough on your calls whenever you did something especially dumb. They were intense but it was different this time. Slowly he moved towards you and wrapped one arm around your shoulders, careful not to spill the coffee on you, as the other moved to the back of your head.

Lips. Lips. His lips. You had pictured what it would feel like so many times before but you never would have been able to picture this. They were a little rough but his pressure was gentle. Eyes fluttering closed as you sunk into it and him. Your bodies were almost one with how close you were to each other. You could have sworn there were actual sparks coming off of his lips. Your skin felt like it was on fire but it shivered a little at the same time. Bliss. That was the only way to describe this. You didn’t know how long it had been. All you knew that it wasn’t long enough before he was pulling his mouth away from yours. “We need to get to the meeting now, darling.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke and you both hesitated before pulling away from each other. The loss of his body against yours was an overwhelmingly empty feeling. Once you had it, you didn’t want it to ever leave.

Shouta grabbed your free hand and entangled his fingers in yours, pulling them up to his mouth to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. Walking back into the meeting room felt like walking onto a stage. Everyone was staring at you. Some smiling. Snipe was making a joking gagging face at you that made you chuckle. You both knew that you couldn’t sit next to each other. You would get nothing done. So you settled between Toshi and Nemmy as he sat on the other side of her with Nezu next to him. This was going to be a long day. Focusing was a priority and you wanted to enjoy your very first day at your new job. At the same time, you couldn’t help but want the meetings to be over as soon as you could.

You needed him now. You were changed now. You were definitely in love with Shouta Aizawa.

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deja-you · 4 years

Text

angel wings + wedding rings

part four | angels in the early morning

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: both of you say things that you don’t really regret.

word count: 3.4k

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When his eyes were shut, Lafayette could only feel guilt.

He felt guilty for everything. For convincing you to marry him when you were both so clearly drunk. Then for trapping you in this marriage even though he had nothing to offer you. For keeping the apartment so cold. And for making you stay up late worrying where he was. Now, he felt guilty for not telling you no when you asked for meaningless sex; he knew it wasn’t meaningless to him.

The kind of guilt that embedded itself into your soul and swallowed you from the inside out. An ocean of guilt that he was now drowning in, the icy water filling his lungs and preventing him from calling out for help. The guilt was a siren, a warning of impending doom, a disaster about to make landfall and destroy everything in its path.

But then he opened his eyes and saw you.

Staring right back at him, the corners of your lips turned up at the corners and bright eyes staring back into his. Lafayette’s heart began to beat again-- when had it stopped beating? Your smile was infectious, and he couldn’t stop a smile from forming on his face as well. He hoped you couldn’t see right through his smile, to the heart hammering in his chest.

“You’re beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking,” he said after awhile, his eyes following the slope of your nose and traced your jawline.

You laughed through your nose. “You don’t have to keep flirting with me, love. I already had sex with you. Three times.”

His grin widened and he slowly nodded in agreement. “Three times.”

“I have to say, I’ve heard the rumors, but I didn’t think they were true.” You let your head fall back onto the pillow, sighing softly and allowing for your eyes to close shut.

“What do the rumors say about me?” Lafayette asked curiously, propping himself up on his elbow.

You opened one eye to see him grinning smugly at you, and you scoffed softly. “Oh, no. Your ego’s already big enough as it is.”

“I’m curious. Come on, mon ange, tell me.”

You only shook your head. “I’m sure you have girls tell you how good you are in bed all the time.” You paused, your eyes snapping open as a thought occurred to you. “Maybe you should be on the complimenting side of the post-sex conversation.”

“You want me to talk about how good you are in bed?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Coming from you, it’s a big deal.” You shrugged, then pinned him with an expectant stare.

Lafayette considered you for a moment, and found no words to be acceptable. It wasn’t that there was a lack of things he could compliment you on; that wasn’t the problem. There were so many things he wanted to say. Words filled with affection and love, but mostly truth. He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell you how much he adored you without letting it all slip out.

Especially since you were so insistent last night that this was purely about the sex, no emotions involved. No strings attached, you had said. Lafayette hated himself for agreeing, but he knew he would agree again in a heartbeat. He would do anything if he got to be the one to draw those lyrical moans from your lips, if he was the one who got to make you feel that good.

“Well?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Lafayette reminded himself to breathe, and offered you an indifferent smile. “I guess you were alright.”

“Just alright?” You scoffed, sitting up in bed, and pulling the sheet to your chest. “We both know I was more than alright.”

He grinned, and wanted to tell you that yes, you were much better than alright, but Lafayette knew he wouldn’t stop himself there. He turned away from you, grabbing a pair of sweats and pulling them on.

“I’m going to make breakfast, feel free to use my shower. The water pressure’s much better than the guest bathroom’s.” He stood up from the bed, giving you a nice view of his toned back, and the early morning light from the window outlined him in an almost heavenly way.

Your eyes followed his figure as he exited the room, and you sighed softly, letting your head fall back against the soft pillows. It was so easy to wake up next to him. In his bed. In his house. It was just easy.

After taking a moment to stretch, you forced yourself to climb out of bed and pad into his bathroom. You started the shower, and once the water got hot, you got in and let the water wash you clean. You had time to really think now. To think about this whole arrangement. To think about last night. To think about how much you wanted to feel his lips on yours again. To think about how much nicer his shower was than the guest bathroom’s was.

You figured you had taken long enough in the shower at this point. California experienced frequent droughts, it wouldn’t be environmentally conscious to stay in the shower any longer. You shut off the water, and wrapped yourself in one of the fluffy white towels Lafayette kept in his bathroom. Had he really been hoarding the quality towels and soaps in his bathroom? You made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

Barefoot and concealed only in a towel, you walked out into the kitchen where the fragrant smell of coffee wafted through the air. Lafayette heard you enter the room, and he turned to face you. You could’ve sworn the relaxed smile he wore grew ever so subtlety when he saw you. Or maybe you had just hoped it had.

“Made you coffee. To your exact specifications.” He slid the hot mug over to you.

Your heart began to beat a little faster at the thought of caffeine and potentially at the thought that of Lafayette memorizing how you like your coffee. “What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing husband like you, sweetheart?”

He snorted softly. “You got drunk in Vegas.”

“I suppose drunken mistakes have their benefits.” You took a sip of the coffee and let it warm you from the inside out.

“Careful, mon ange, you keep calling me a mistake and you might hurt my feelings.” His tone was teasing, but he was careful to look away from your gaze and turn back to the breakfast he was working on.

“Now I could ask more questions about your upcoming film, but I think we need to discuss the elephant in the room. Your secret marriage to Victoria Secret’s angel, Y/n L/n.”

The conversation you were currently having with Alex and John paused at the mention of your name on the TV screen.

Lafayette was on Ben Franklin’s talk show, and John had convinced you and Alex to come over to catch up and watch the interview. John and Alex were dying to ask you about your marriage, since they really hadn’t been told much more than what was printed in the tabloids, but Ben had beaten them to the question in his interview.

You watched Lafayette put on a practiced smile. A smile viewers would just assume was a result of the mention of his wife, but you knew Lafayette better than that. He was mentally preparing the rehearsed story the two of you had crafted together.

“Well, Ben, what do you want to know about Y/n and I?” Lafayette asked.

The eccentric host’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward on his desk. “Everything. For starters, when did you two start dating? And how could you keep this secret from dear old me?”

Lafayette chuckled. “We met through our mutual friend, Hercules Mulligan, and... and I was just awestruck from the moment I met her. I had the biggest crush on her, and one day I finally got the guts to ask her out.”

You pursed your lips as you watched the interview. Was it at all possible that Lafayette had liked you? You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining what would’ve happened if he had asked you out, but then you reminded yourself that he was a professional actor. He didn’t mean any of it. It was just a cover. And that didn’t bother you.

“Somehow I convinced a literal angel to go out with me, and for some reason she’s stuck around. What’s it been? A month and a half? We had a small ceremony, neither of us wanted anything big.” Lafayette laced his fingers together and leaned back in his chair. “I still can’t believe that she’s my reality.”

The audience and Ben aww’d at his statement, and the irony of his statement tugged at your heart. This fake marriage was fucked up, you both knew it, and you found yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Y/n must be one special girl to make the Gilbert de Lafayette settle down. You have quite the reputation y’know,” Ben said suggestively.

“That’s all in the past. Y/n’s my present and my future.” Lafayette looked away from Ben for a moment, his eyes lingering on the ring on his finger. “This last month and a half being married to her has been the best month and a half of my life. I just... I love her.”

Another round of awws from the audience, and this time Alex and John joined the audience, glancing at you for a reaction. You gave them what you hoped looked like a contented smile, but inside you were a twisted knot of shock and anxiety.

Lafayette had just said he loved you on national television. There was really no going back now; surprisingly, that’s not what you were focused on. He had said it with such sincerity that even you were convinced he meant it. You forced the warm, overflowing sensation back into your gut and reminded yourself it was all an act. A very compelling act that manipulated your emotions with ease, but an act nonetheless.

Ben and Lafayette thankfully moved onto another topic, and John turned down the volume on the TV. Alex and John turned to face you, ready to begin their own investigation.

“You have to know, we’re both very upset that we weren’t invited to the wedding,” Alex began. “We’re supposed to be friends, Y/n!”

“It was pretty spontaneous.” Understatement of the year. “We really didn’t invite anyone. Not even family.”

“You didn’t even tell us. I read about your wedding in a magazine. We didn’t even know you were dating,” John said.

You shrugged. “You heard Lafayette. We kept it quiet, but had been dating for awhile.”

“If we’re being honest,” Alex said, “I think I knew you two were dating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was pretty obvious in the way you guys would stare at each other all the time.”

“We didn’t... We didn’t stare at each other all the time.”

John nodded in agreement. “No, no. Alex’s right. It was right in front of us the whole time. You guys always spent so much time together. I should’ve suspected something was going on.”

“I always knew you liked him, Y/n,” Alex said, “but you’re really in love with him? You never thought to tell us?”

“We’re married. Of course I love him.” And God, did you wish you were lying.

“I brought you lunch.”

You examined the box in Lafayette’s hand, smiling a little when you recognized the logo from your favorite restaurant. You grabbed his arm and pulled him out of earshot from the group of models who were watching the two of you and whispering to each other.

“Y’know you don’t have to bring me lunch, we’re not really married,” you said quietly when you were sure no one could hear you.

Lafayette only shrugged and thrusted the box of food into your hands. “I know. Just think of it as a way for me to say thank you.”

“I think you’ve thanked me enough. I’ve got a new Rolls-Royce, don’t I?” You grinned.

“She’s all yours, mon ange.”

You were smiling up at Lafayette, and he responded with a dazzling smile of his own. To any onlookers, it was a sweet moment between two newlyweds in the Honeymoon stage. And it sure felt like it. You remembered where you were and quickly looked away from him.

“I wish I could eat lunch with you, but I have to get back to work,” you said.

He nodded. “Of course. Tuesdays are busy for you. But Wednesday is your day off. Get lunch with me tomorrow.”

Sure, you’d had plenty of breakfasts and dinners with him, and a few lunches just for public appearances, but this felt different. It was the soft way he asked; the slight shaking of his voice that told you he was nervous. The way his eyes were a wider, more hopeful and tender.

“Lunch? Tomorrow?” You asked slowly.

Lafayette swallowed thickly. “Yes. Lunch tomorrow.”

You paused. “Like a date?”

“Like a date.”

Maybe all the planets had aligned perfectly in outer space just to make sure you made a decision you promised yourself months earlier that you wouldn’t. A decision you knew was stupid and could end poorly. But between the tugging in your gut and the nervous smile on Lafayette’s face, any coherent thought was drowned out in a pink haze.

“Okay. Let’s go on a date,” you said.

Any doubt about whether you had made a bad decision flew out the window when you saw Lafayette’s shoulders relax and his smile take over his face. That smile could light up the darkest room. He bounced excitedly back and forth on his feet.

“Great! I’ll make reservations.” He took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his excitement, shaking your head a little. “We’re married and we’ve already slept together, but this is what gets you excited?”

“Maybe it’s because I just really like lunch,” he said. Maybe it’s just because this is actually real, he thought.

“You’re ridiculous. I really need to get back to work now before Hercules comes and yells at you for distracting me,” you told him.

He nodded and leaned forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Have a good day, mon ange.”

The first date was perfect.

It wasn’t anything special. Lafayette took you to a quiet restaurant just outside of L.A. He didn’t buy flowers or have anything spectacular planned, it was just a casual lunch. You ordered your food, talked about your day, ate, paid the bill, and left. That was it. And it was perfect.

The problem was that once you said yes to a date once, you couldn’t say no. And in Lafayette’s opinion, the second date was more significant.

Lafayette tried to calm himself when he asked you again. When he was around you, he couldn’t help but feel panicked. Not panicked in the scared or terrified kind of ways, but panicked in the way he didn’t know how to stop or slow down. He was a car going full speed down the highway with no breaks and no intentions to stop.

But you weren’t the same. He knew you had to bend your morals and ideals to even say yes to a first date. He would slow down for you. Or, at the very least, he would hide his panic.

“Do you want to go out?”

Out like a date? you’d wanted to ask. Or maybe just out like ‘you’ve been in my apartment for too long and I’m afraid there’s going to be a permanent you shaped indent in my couch.’ You glanced up at him, first noticing the easy smirk he wore. Then you saw the slight panic in his eyes and you nodded to yourself. Yes, he means like a date.

“Yes.” You would’ve thought that one little word was a drug the way Lafayette’s face lit up at the mere sound of it.

If Lafayette was still trying to contain his panic, he wasn’t doing a very good job at it. He took your hand in his and grabbed the keys to his car with the other. In a second you were situated in the passenger seat of his car and Lafayette was pulling out into the road.

“Where are we going?” You asked him while he helped you connect to the car’s sound system.

“I... I hadn’t thought of that yet,” he admitted, and you laughed. “Where do you want to go?”

“Don’t ask me, this was your idea. I don’t want to make a decision.”

“Okay, okay. Then we’ll just drive until we find somewhere we want to stop.”

The word ‘we’ felt so natural on his tongue. Like it was his mother language. You were his wife, his partner. Even if you just saw it as a temporary thing, and even if Lafayette knew it could only be a temporary thing, every now and then he liked to pretend that this was all real.

Neither you nor Lafayette would remember every detail from that night. The two of you were intoxicated, not by alcohol or any other form of inebriation, but by something stronger and more languid. Memories came back in poetic proses, broken glass on the sidewalk that looked like glittering stars, camera flashes that documented a fake marriage and real smiles, and desperate displays of affection that only delayed catastrophe.

You don’t think anything Lafayette ‘plans’ to do that night is intentional. In fact, you don’t know if anything he’s done in his entire life has been intentional. Sometimes that worries you, but right now you can’t help but love the spontaneous man that pulls you out onto the Santa Monica beach.

It’s already getting dark, and you’re certain that if you take your shoes off now to meander around the beach, you’ll never find them again. And you like these shoes. But Lafayette insists you run around barefoot with him. You mutter something about “I don’t know why I do these things for you.” You know the answer. You’re careful to make sure that because I love you doesn’t slip out.

“Lafayette, I swear if I lose these shoes, I’m getting a divorce,” you say as your bare feet sink into the cool sand.

He scoffs. “Well I wouldn’t want your shoes to be ruined by ocean water.”

“Why would they be...” your eyes meet his, then move to the waves lapping at the beach, then back to Lafayette. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

You’re not given the opportunity to say no again, because his hands snake behind your knees and the next thing you know, you’re thrown over his shoulder and he’s racing toward the water. You yell a few times for him to stop, but it’s drowned out by your own laughter.

Lafayette is waist deep in the water, your feet, calves, and knees sink into the water, but you grab fist fulls of his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep the rest of your body warm and dry. Your actions are made in vain, because he takes a deep breath then pulls the both of you under the waves. He lets go of you after you’ve been completely submerged and you quickly resurface.

“I’m going to kill you,” you say as you gasp for air.

He laughs, and it’s so warm and full you forgive his previous transgressions for just a moment. “You might want to take out a larger life insurance policy before you do that.”

Lafayette wades over to you, his hands falling to your waist. They fit there perfectly, like your body was made for his hands to hold. He pulls you into his warmth.

“I don’t know what possessed you to drag me into this freezing water at night,” you groan, burying your face in his chest.

You can feel the soft vibrations of his laughter. “We’ve got warm, fluffy towels at home.”

Your heart flutters a little bit at the mention of home. “I do love your towels.”

“They’re your towels. I got them for you,” he admits.

“You did?”

Lafayette rests his head on top of yours. “Got new pillows, too. And a new coffee maker.”

“Just for me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums softly. “I’d do anything for you.”

You sigh out the name of some deity, maybe it’s his name, and you just stop thinking. “I love you. I’m so in love with you.”

He pulls away to stare at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

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chadillacboseman · 3 years

Text

Blowing Off Steam Part IV

Pairing: Axe Woves x GN!Reader

A/N: This is just pure fluff, lol. Mentions of violence and injury.

Word Count: 1.6K

Waking up was more painful than it had been in a long time. Your head throbbed with every movement, and the area where the blaster struck you jolted like a lightning strike every time you touched it. You rose, slowly, from your bed and made your way to the bathroom to inspect the damage. A decent bruise was forming, and the cut looked angry, red, and inflamed. You sighed and washed it, gently, with warm water and a fresh towel before changing your clothes and exiting the bathroom.

Light was filtering in through the windows of your living quarters, letting you know that the sun had risen in its entirety. A cup of Spiran caf in your hands helped to ease the pain, if only a little. Your cupboards were fairly bare, but you managed to cobble together an acceptable breakfast to tide you over until you made a trip to the market.

The streets of Trask were busy, brimming with discussions of the Imperial presence from the night before. You kept a low profile as you collected your needs from the market, but the mark on your face attracted more attention than you’d like.

Plenty of prying eyes watched you as you shopped, but it wasn’t until you arrived at a booth stocked with fresh fish that someone spoke to you. It was the mon calamari from the night before, the one who was struck in the head before you. He was sporting a similar wound, and gave you a knowing look as you browsed.

When you presented your credits, he waved your hand away and passed you the fish, “On the house, bock avreet.” You mustered a smile and thanked him before departing.

You finished your shopping and headed home to restock your cupboards. The pain in your head was almost unbearable by the time you finished, and you searched your fresher cabinet for a painkiller to ease it.

You remembered your promise to Axe that you would meet him at the inn and sighed. You felt as though your head was going to explode, but you didn’t exactly shy away from the thought of a cold glass of something full of alcohol. You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of sleep on your eyelids, and decided to have a nap before the night began.

The cool night air hit you like a freighter and helped to lessen the pain in your head. The streets were bustling with people returning from the docks, many of them still chattering about the events of the previous night.

The smell of roasting seafood wafted on the salty air from the street market, and the gentle notes of a seven-string hallikset could be heard among the voices of the vendors and shoppers. It was good to know that the Imp presence hadn’t put a dent in the nightlife on Trask; if anything, it seemed that the populace was celebrating a little harder than usual.

The inn was surprisingly quiet compared to the rest of the city; only a few of the regular patrons were seated inside. The human bartender was nowhere to be found, but the mon calamari street vendor spotted you and raised his glass in a silent gesture.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Axe’s low voice vibrated near your ear and you jumped out of surprise.

You turned to find the Mandalorian in the doorway, a soft smile planted on his lips. Before you could stop yourself, you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around him. Axe stumbled back in surprise, but quickly returned the gesture, his chin resting on the top of your head. His armor was cold and hard against your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You pulled away and searched for the words to thank him, but they didn’t come to you. All you could do was return his smile. He led you to a small table in the far corner of the inn and signaled the bartender for a drink.

“I believe you might have dropped this the other night,” Axe produced your blaster from under the table and carefully slid it to you.

“Where did you find it?” you slipped it into your bag, taking comfort in its familiar weight.

“Trooper had it on him.” Axe said with a shrug, “Knew it wasn’t his, and I convinced him to tell me where he got it.”

You wondered for a moment what Axe’s idea of convincing was, but decided it was better not to ask. For several minutes the two of you sat in silence and enjoyed your drinks. You weren’t sure what to say- the man had just saved your life the previous night as if it was just another average event for him.

Evidently noticing your struggle for words, Axe spoke first, “How’s your head?”

You turned your face so he could see the mark and he grimaced at the sight. “Does it hurt much?”

You shrugged and finished your drink in one swallow, “Less now.”

Axe grinned and you felt your heart jump. He drained his glass as well and set it on the table before speaking again, “I’m sorry they hurt you because of me.”

His words surprised you, as did his suddenly solemn expression. “Axe I don’t blame you-” he waved his hand dismissively, “I know you don’t. But I do.” You stared at him, trying to read his expression- where was this going?

Axe reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of yours; you felt your face grow warm at his touch. He sighed and his eyes met yours, “Look, I’m not good at this-” he gestured vaguely with his free hand, “...stuff. I’m a Mandalorian. We’re warriors. I’ve been in this fight to retake our planet since I could walk.” He paused and you cocked your head, waiting for him to continue.

“That day when we walked through the city together,” his dark eyes flicked to yours, “You told me you weren’t afraid of me.” You nodded, remembering the fear on the faces of the others on the street- but you had felt safe in that moment with his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“The night I asked you to stay with me, I didn’t think you would. In fact, I thought you’d stop coming to the bar entirely after the first time we met.”

You blushed at the memory and mustered a smile, "Why did you think that?"

Axe grinned, "Come on- I fucked you in an alleyway."

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment and sighed, "Yeah. That did happen."

As the two of you chuckled over the memory, there was a commotion at the door. The night's entertainment had arrived in the form of a four-piece Bith band with instruments in tow.

As the band set up, you ordered another drink and turned your attention back to Axe. "So, big, strong, Mandalorian-" he rolled his eyes, "Why all the sentimentality?"

You might have imagined it, but you could have sworn his face reddened at your words. "It's just...rare that I meet someone like you." His voice trailed off as he finished speaking.

You leaned forward to press him further, when you were interrupted by the band breaking into a slow, fanfar-laden number.

Axe's head snapped up and his face broke into a wide grin.

"What?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Dance with me." He rose from the table and held out a hand.

"You've lost your mind, Woves." You snorted.

"Come on," he was still smiling, his hand extended.

You sighed and rose to your feet, taking his hand as he led you to the empty dance floor. "I'm going to kill you." You whispered.

"I'm okay with that," Axe took your hand and wrapped his other around your waist.

You tried to hide your smile as Axe moved with you on the dance floor. You were amazed at how well he danced, despite the heavy, beskar armor.

You knew there were other patrons, but you didn't care- you laughed as he spun you, and clung to him when he pulled you close.

The whole inn seemed to disappear as you danced- lost in the background noise as Axe held you against his chest.

As the music wound down, Axe pulled you in close against him. You felt your heart flutter as his chin came to rest on the crown of your head.

For a moment, the two of you remained there on the dance floor, enraptured with each other, before Axe pulled away and led you back to the table.

You felt breathless as you sat down, still riding the high of the dance floor.

"You're lucky, Woves" you breathed as you sank into your chair.

"It was worth it," Axe grinned, as he moved to drain his drink. The two of you sat in silence for a moment, until Axe spoke up again, "Look, I know this has been weird." He paused as the bartender arrived to set another glass in front of him. "But give me a chance to start it all over."

You stared at him for a moment before replying, "Start it over?"

"Let me take you out," His eyes locked with yours as he spoke, "We'll be leaving Trask soon-"

Your heart sank at that. You had almost forgotten entirely about his words to you the first night you met.

"Let me take you somewhere that isn't a bar-" he gestured vaguely at the area around himself, "Will you let me do that?"

You stared at him, the pang of sadness building slowly in your gut. You knew how badly it would hurt when he finally left the planet, but maker did you want to spend every last moment with him.

Axe waited patiently, his eyes never leaving your face as you debated with yourself. You sighed and met his eyes with your own, and his face lit up when you smiled.

"Deal."

----

Tag list: @djxrxn @lestrange2703 @ortizshinkaroff @calamity-queen

Translations:

Bock avreet is Mon Calamarian for "brave comrade"

#axe woves #star wars #fanfic #blowing off steam

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c-optimistic · 5 years

Text

fall

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

Sometimes, when she’s alone in her office in the wee hours of the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing and unsure when she’d last eaten, she thinks about that, the utter normalcyof losing National City’s hero on a Wednesday. Somehow, the death on such a boring day of the week provides a sort of stark contrast that Lena has trouble wrapping her head around. After all, surely the hero and pride of National City would fall in a blaze of glory on a Friday night, a Sunday afternoon, even a Monday morning during rush hour.

But a Wednesday? Some time between mid-morning and noon? When nothing was happening except for the drudge of the week, the tireless churning of society?

She doesn’t understand it—has tried to come to terms with it with very little success. In her weakest moments, when she’s staring down the end of a bottle of whiskey or wine (before Jess or Maggie or even James Olsen pry the bottle from her fingertips and help her get home), she thinks the very banality of Supergirl’s death is evidence of its unnecessary nature, its needless, pointless, meaningless, asinine—

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

By Friday, the President herself comes to National City to mourn the fallen hero. She talks about the few short conversations she’s had with Supergirl, how everyone should be inspired and follow Supergirl’s wonderful example. A true hero, an exemplary citizen.

(Lena doesn’t go to the ceremony. She and Alex spend that afternoon in Kara’s apartment, sitting on Kara’s couch, Alex stoically staring at the television screen with silent tears running down her cheeks and Lena gripping her hand so tightly she thinks she’ll break fingers.

After that, Lena doesn’t see much of Alex at all.)

The President dedicates a memorial to Supergirl, and donations come pouring in—people wanting to make it larger than life, much like the hero it’s meant to honor. People from across the country pour into National City in order to discuss how to best go about building the memorial, debating what Supergirl would’ve liked or wanted.

(Lena sits it all out though L-Corp is asked for the perspective, for their idea of what should be built—especially seeing as though the memorial would be so close to their building.

Lena has Jess allocate a sizable donation to the effort to build the memorial, claiming she only does it to get the pestering swarms off her back. She pretends not to hear Jess’s soft sigh, not to see the pitying expression.)

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.

Not many know how. The secret is limited to a select few: Alex, who was her everything; J’onn, who was like a father; Winn, who was her best friend; James, who was her first love; and Lena—Lena who somehow stumbled into her life and never stumbled back out, now left alone and bearing more scars on her heart than she had any right to.

(Superman is there the day it happens, he is there on that dismal, ordinary, normal, Wednesday. He’s there when Supergirl gets hit, he’s there when she falls, he’s there when she doesn’t get back up. And in the cellphone footage that plays nonstop on every news outlet, Superman lifts her, tears in his eyes, and with a great heave, he shoots off into the air with Supergirl still in his arms.

What no one sees is Superman returning to the DEO. What no one hears is Superman’s toneless voice as he informs the five of them of his cousin’s death, catching Alex before she falls to her knees. What no one knows is that Lena thinks she dies that day too—that Superman meets her eyes as if he hearsthe sound of her breaking heart as it happens, that he watches her become a shell after losing yet another person she loves.)

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday, and it’s on a Wednesday two weeks later that the plans for the memorial is finally revealed. It’s to be a life-sized statue of Supergirl, the artist sketching Supergirl with her hands on her hips, smile on her lips, and it’s on a Wednesday that Lena stares at the drawing and wonders just how many people would recognize that if they placed a pair of glasses on the statue and hid the emblem on her chest with a pastel sweater that Supergirl would strongly resemble someone else.

Supergirl dies on a Wednesday, and in the days that follow the world mourns: the House of El coat of arms is everywhere, people begin quoting Supergirl left and right, and when they see Superman they avert their eyes so as to avoid the sorrow swimming in the depths of his gaze.

It makes Lena so angry.

Because Supergirl dies on a Wednesday, but more importantly, so does Kara.

“I hear you don’t leave the office,” Alex says without prompting as she walks into Lena’s office without any warning. Lena smiles weakly, motioning to Jess that the interruption is fine, and offers Alex a drink. (Water only. After an incident several weeks earlier, the two of them have sworn off alcohol, have been attempting to get their lives back in order—as impossible as that seems.)

“I hear you’ve been reckless.”

“Who snitched?” Alex asks, waving off the water and sitting down across from Lena, slouched heavily in the chair that Kara—

No. No. Lena isn’t about to go there.

“You tell me first,” she replies easily, shutting her laptop and giving Alex her full attention. “It was either Maggie or James. No one else comes to L-Corp late at night.”

“Winn’s been hacking into your security system,” Alex admits, shrugging when Lena’s mouth falls open in offense. “What? He’s used to keeping tabs on you. Has been since Kara—” Her mouth snaps shut, something steely appears in her gaze, and she becomes hard, her jaw clenched tight.

“Maggie told me about the alien you apprehended without backup,” Lena says, pretending as if she didn’t hear Alex’s slip, as if she didn’t witness the way Alex clammed up.

“I had it under control.”

“He was apparently three times bigger than you.” Lena eyes Alex’s leg pointedly, the ginger way Alex stretches it. “And how is nearly getting your leg torn off having anything ‘under control?’”

“He got a lucky shot in, that’s all. Also, I don’t know how I feel about my girlfriend telling you all this stuff.”

“Well I don’t know how I feel about Winn hackinginto my security system.”

“Fair enough, I’ll get him to back off if youpromise to go home and get a good’s night sleep as least twice a week.”

“I like that you know better than to ask for more than two nights a week,” Lena chuckles. When Alex merely raises an eyebrow, clearly in no mood for jokes (though none of them ever really are anymore), Lena deflates. “It still smells like her, the couch, my favorite throw. I just can’t, Alex. I can’t.”

(She doesn’t say that when she goes too long without sleep or if she forgets to eat once too often she sees Kara’s phantom presence—can see her curled up on the couch with a book, can hear her giggling over something she reads on her phone, can feel her warmth while mindlessly watching the news, can smell her perfume lingering in the air and her shampoo and something vaguely sunnyon the clothes she once borrowed when she claimed she was too tired to fly home.

Lena doesn’t say that in her darkest moments, when she’s alone and weak and feeling oh so vulnerable, she thinks that she’ll see Kara emerging from the guest bedroom, yawning even as she worriedly asks why Lena is sobbing. She doesn’t say that watching that door never open is tearing her apart.)

“It’s been a month, there’s no way—”

“So you don’t wear her favorite sweater anymore?”

Alex looks stricken at the accusation, clearly upset that Maggie would confide even this to Lena. The truth, however, is that as worried as everyone has been about Lena, they are all well aware that it’s Alex who’s lost the most—Alex who’s bearing the most pain, Alex who lost her entire world. Lena isn’t stupid; she knows Maggie and James don’t only check up on her out of some vague sense of lingering loyalty to Kara (the one person who had faith in Lena, who believed inLena, who once swore she’d always stand up for Lena).

After all, who better to understand losing a sibling than Lena Luthor?

“That’s different,” Alex says fiercely after she manages to get her shock under control.

“Alex—”

“She’s not gone. I know it, I can feel it. My sister is still out there and she’s coming back.”

Lena sighs and Alex’s shoulders stiffen.

(It’s practically a play they enact by memory at this point. It’d started a week after Clark left. Alex had stated it as a fact, had talked about how Clark hadn’t let anyone see Kara’s body, how he was keeping his distance, how there were unexplainable reports from the south about random surges and strange miracles, how she sworeshe heard Kara’s voice one night, just outside her window.

And Lena—heartbroken, terrified, emptyLena—refutes each of Alex’s claims one by one, keeping her voice steady and calm, trying to prevent the swell of hope in her own chest. Because she wantsit to be true, she so wants it to be true, but that damn door never opens and experience is a hard teacher and Lena’s had plenty of lessons—enough that while she’s brave enough to admit what she wants she doesn’t dare give in to hope.

Lena isn’t strong enough to hope only for it all to be proved false, so she prays that Alex is strong enough for the both of them.

She wonders how long she can continue to be so unfair.)

“So it can’t be true that I still smell Kara on my things, but she’s definitely alive just because you feel it?”

“You don’t understand, I know my sister. I’ve always had a sixth sense when it came to her, when she was in trouble and needed me. And she needsme now. Lena, you have to believe me.”

(I want to, Lena doesn’t say. Show me how to hope, she doesn’t say.)

“Just like you knew Mon-El was trouble and told her to stay away from him?” Lena says instead, her voice becoming cold. (This too is a conversation she’s had many times with Alex, and every time, it’s ended the same way.)

“Fuck you, Luthor,” Alex hisses. She gets to her feet, only favoring her left leg slightly, all her pain forgotten in her anger, and she stalks out of Lena’s office without another word or a look back.

And Lena wearily reaches for her phone, dialing Maggie’s number.

“She’ll be coming to you now,” she says in lieu of a hello. “Let her know somehow that I’m sorry, okay? And thank her for looking out for me.”

“You could tell her yourself. You could tell her you don’t actually think she’s crazy,” Maggie says, her voice almost completely drowned out by some sort of commotion in the background. Lena idly wonders how the NCPD is faring without one of their greatest assets.

“I actually don’t think she wants to hear anything from me right now,” Lena says, swallowing hard. “And I never called her crazy.”

“Look, Lena. I get it, okay? People process grief differently.” She lets out a sigh when Lena doesn’t respond. “I don’t know how little Danvers got stuck with two of the most stubborn women in the world.”

“The issue is she’s not processing her grief at all, Maggie,” Lena says, closing her eyes and ignoring the latter part of Maggie’s comment. She doesn’t wait for Maggie to convince her otherwise—she hangs up and tosses her phone aside.

After a long pause, she opens her eyes and swivels her chair around, staring out her window, somehow momentarily sure that she’ll see a flash of red and hear the light thud of boots against the balcony. But the moment is gone in a heartbeat, and Lena hurriedly wipes away the single tear that’s rolled down her cheek and returns to her work as if there’d never been an interruption in the first place.

(She doesn’t go home that night either.)

On the second month anniversary of Supergirl’s (and Kara’s) death, Lena decides she’ll take a lunch break and go for a walk. She tells Jess to take care of all her calls, to email her anything that’s urgent, then walks to the nearest café—barely a block away—buys Kara’s favorite sandwich and heads to memorial that’s still under construction, tentatively named Hero’s Park.

She sits on one of the wooden benches away from the bustling and the work, the sandwich going untouched as she stares at the one thing that’s already been completed: a life-size statue of Supergirl. The artist is talented, she thinks for the umpteenth time. They’d somehow captured Kara’s strength in the curve of her spine, her optimism in the uptick of her lips, her courage in the clench of her hands. Supergirl’s very essence had been distilled into stone, each inch exemplifying everything that made Kara great.

(Or perhaps that’s just what Lena sees when she looks at the statue because that was what she saw when she looked at Kara.)

“You didn’t come to game night,” she hears a deep voice rumble, and though she smiles she doesn’t turn to look at the man who’s joined her at her bench. “We all missed you.”

“Alex is upset with me, I didn’t think she’d want me there.”

“She’s sad, Lena. But she always wants you around.”

Lena sighs, turning to face James, studying his expression and his loose-fitting clothing before offering him another smile, this one self-deprecating, mirthless…broken.

“Why?”

“Because you’re something she has left of Kara. You and Winn.”

“Not you?”

“I came into Kara’s life thanks to Clark. You came into her life because she brought you into it.” He doesn’t seem sad or resentful and Lena knows why: it doesn’t matter how they came into Kara’s life, they were both just grateful that they’d ever been in her orbit at all. She stares at him a little longer then hands over the sandwich, actually letting out a laugh when he halves it and raises an eyebrow, waiting till she accepts her half and takes a bite before he begins to eat as well.

“So you tracked me down to tell me to come to the next game night?”

“Track down?” James huffs, shaking his head. “Lena, there’s no tracking with you. You’re either here or at the office.”

“But you were looking for me.”

“Yeah, but not about game night. Fair warning, though, Alex will probably call you sometime today about that.” He polishes off the last of his sandwich and leans back, his eyes on the memorial, something sad passing over his face. “Cat Grant is back,” he explains without preamble. “She feels…well, I think she’s guilty. She seems to think Kara’s—” He stops, clears his throat, and shakes his head. “She thinks it’s her fault somehow. So she wants to honor Supergirl her own way. She wants to coincide the opening of the memorial with a special issue of CatCo magazine.”

“And how does that involve me?”

“Apparently it’s ‘common knowledge’ that you and Supergirl were close. I don’t think Cat knows just how close you were, but she suspects enough. She wants to interview you, add the viewpoint of someone who knew Supergirl well.”

“And she didn’t ask you?”

“She did. But the truth is I don’t think I knew Kara in the end. We’d become so distant and I…” He stops and hangs his head, hurriedly wiping at his eyes. Lena tactfully looks away, remembering all the nights he helped her off the floor of her office and took her home, never once mentioning her weakness, never once taking advantage of the information he held over her. To see someone at their very worst and still think them strong…that was something Lena hadn’t had with anyone before James. And she likes it. She likes it enough that she surprises herself by reaching out and taking James’s hand, not looking over at him even when he squeezes back gratefully.

“I don’t know if I can survive an interview with Cat Grant,” Lena tells James softly, pulling her hand away and turning to him. To her shock, he’s grinning.

“I thought you’d say that,” he says, knocking shoulders with her. “That’s why I told Cat I’d interview you. As my last hurrah I guess before I move back to Metropolis.”

Lena frowns, filled with confusion and a terrible sense of sorrow that she’s losing someone she just found.

“You’re moving away? But—”

“I don’t belong here anymore, Lena,” he interrupts, and Lena doesn’t understand why he looks so carefree, why he’s so cheerful about that fact. “I came here to get out from under Clark’s shadow and I think somewhere along the way I lost myself. I wanted to be a hero like Kara, a hero like Clark, and I forgot that there’s more to being a hero than punching a few bad guys.” He tilts his head towards her, actually winking. “You showed me that, you know. You’re more of a hero than you know, and it’s just because you choose to do the right thing over what might be easy.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit, James.”

“I think you give yourself too little credit,” he shoots back with good humor. “National City has been good for you. For me…well, for me I don’t think it was.”

“You met Kara here,” Lena reminds him softly, but rather than recant, James tilts his head back, staring up at the sky with a wide smile on his face, his eyes closing. She can almost see what Kara saw in him—he’s obviously conventionally attractive, but he’s also soft and gentle, kind, and patient. There’s a warmth to him that Lena appreciates, something she finds herself basking in because at times—when he’s chuckling or when he’s passionate about something—it reminds Lena so much of Kara. The very thought of losing him hurts more than she thought it would, especially now that they’ve become tentative friends, one of the many things Lena has because of Kara. “National City gave you that.”

“National City also took her away,” he says, his smile not fading and his eyes still closed. “I like to think that there’s an alternate world, another timeline that Kara is alive and happy. And maybe I met her and maybe I didn’t, but I think just knowing she’s somewhere in the world would be enough for me.”

“Yes,” Lena says without thinking, “I agree.”

“So.” James claps his hands together and sits up, finally opening his eyes and facing her. “Will you do the interview? Send me off in style?”

Lena looks over at the statue, eyes roving the intricate lines of Kara’s face. She stares into the lifeless eyes of the statue and for a moment they flash, looking blue and bright and vibrant.

Kara gave her friends, gave her a sense that she mattered, but most of all, Kara reminded her what it meant to be a hero: to do the best you could, with whatever you had. So Lena’s answer is a no-brainer.

“Of course, James. Whatever you need.”

And James’s answering grin reminds her so much of Kara that the ache in her chest—the one she hasn’t been able to escape since that Wednesday two months ago—twinges painfully, and Lena realizes that, with or without James, losing Kara is something she’ll never be able to get over.

Cat Grant actually cries (it’s caught on camera, a single tear rolling down her cheeks, and the photograph is tucked into the corner of the article about Supergirl and her wider influence—forever immortalizing herself as not only the person who named Supergirl, but also the person who said goodbye.)

Lena’s interview with James is everywhere the day the memorial opens. Quotes are read on news programs, social media blows up with it, shared again and again with varying opinions.

(“She’s a fake,” some say.

“She’s not like her family,” others write.

“Can you imagine, a Super and a Luthor?” some question.

“No, no, no,” many claim, “she’s in love.”)

Lena doesn’t pay attention to any of it. She goes to work, meets with her board members and investors, speaks to R&D, takes conference calls from foreign businesses, forgets to eat until Jess strongholds her into it, only going home when Winn or Maggie (or sometimes Alex, when she’s not surly, when she’s not still spouting her mad claims about Kara) drag her away from the office.

And time drags on.

They have a going away celebration for James, playing board games in Kara’s honor and eating so many potstickers that Alex feels sick. They tell stories, Winn gets drunk, and James hugs both Alex and Lena tightly, promising to stay in touch—promising to be around the second they ever need him. He tells Winn that being his partner was one of the greatest things he’s ever done in his life.

Alex stops mentioning her certainty that Kara is still alive, but bags appear beneath her eyes, Maggie claims that she doesn’t know where Alex is most times, J’onn tells Lena he’s worried and he wants her help in finally putting this all to rest.

Maggie gets a promotion and the night they celebrate almost feels normal, even if there’s a wide gaping wound, a space that they attempt to fill with music and laughter, an emptiness that is palpable and harsh.

Lena invites Alex and Winn to a symposium for technological innovations, and the three of dork out. Maggie fondly calls them her favorite nerds, and even James calls from Metropolis to tease them about it.

Before Lena knows it, another month has passed, and she wonders when it became so easy to pretend she’s just fine.

She dreams of Kara often.

In many respects, that statement isn’t altogether strange. She’s dreamt of Kara since the day she met the bumbling reporter. She’s dreamt of them being friends, dreamt of Kara’s laugh, dreamt of the day that Kara would trust her enough to unbutton her shirt and reveal her family’s crest.

(And these dreams weren’t just dreams—eventually they became grounded in reality.

Perhaps she should have known then, perhaps she should have realized a Luthor never would have a happy ending.)

She dreams of Kara often, that isn’t what strikes her. It’s the fact that this dream feels so real.

Kara sits on her couch, laughing as she pulls takeout containers out from a bag she’s set on the table, mumbling on about something and adjusting her glasses. And Lena can’t help it, she steps away from her desk—abandoning the work she just said she was almost done with—and approaches Kara, dropping to her knees in front of her.

“Lena?” Kara asks, looking worried, a crease appearing between her eyebrows, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. She ignores it and Lena’s met with a breathtaking view of Kara’s blue eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I think I’m dreaming,” she says softly. Rather than frown or laugh like Kara usually would, Lena just gets a soft look. The crease between Kara’s eyes disappears and she tilts her head slightly to the side, actually reaching out and cupping Lena’s cheeks with her hands.

“Would it matter if it’s a dream?”

“But then you wouldn’t be real.”

Kara’s thumbs wipe at Lena’s cheeks, and it takes a moment for Lena to realize she’s dabbing away the evidence of Lena’s tears.

“I’m real, Lena,” she says, and Lena can feel Kara’s warm breath fanning over her face as she leans in closer. “I’m real and I’m here.”

(Dream-Kara smells like the Kara Lena knew. She smells vaguely sweet with a certain undertone that Lena doesn’t know how to describe other than bright. Dream-Kara is soft and warm. Dream-Kara is leaning dangerously close and Lena wonders if it would be wrong to give in, to close the last of that distance between them and find out what Kara tastes like—even if it’s a dream, even if it’s not real.)

“I miss you,” Lena finds herself mumbling, eyes fluttering shut, and she doesn’t have to wonder about the morals of kissing the dream-version of the woman she’s in love with because Kara takes the decision out of her hands entirely.

She kisses Lena hungrily, fingers threading into Lena’s hair and tugging her closer, and Lena isn’t quite sure if it’s her heart that’s hammering away or if it’s Kara’s. And when Kara releases her hair, when her teeth drag over Lena’s lips and her hands trace the contours of Lena’s body, Lena stops thinking about hearts. She accepts what Kara gives her, her own hands trembling as she desperately holds Kara to her, worried that if she releases her hold even for a moment the dream will dematerialize and she’ll be left alone again.

It’s a dream (and Lena dreams of Kara often) but damn it if it didn’t feel real.

“I’m here,” Kara tells her in between kisses—head spinning, heart pounding, world upturning, kisses. “I’m here and you’re gonna find me.”

“You were right!” Lena shouts, banging on the door with no thought at all to the time or how it must look. “You were right!” she shouts again, shocked when the door flies open before she can knock again.

“You better have a damn good reason for this racket, Luthor,” Alex hisses, putting her gun away and dragging Lena inside her apartment. She looks disheveled, a little more than half-asleep, and Lena considers for one moment that maybe she could’ve waited until the morning for this.

“You were right,” she says again, deciding this was urgent enough to justify pulling Alex out of bed. From the other side of the apartment, Maggie comes shuffling over, scratching at her cheek, squinting at the kitchen lights and Lena’s exuberance.

“What’s going on?” the detective asks.

“I don’t know, ask Lena, she’s the one who tried to ram her way in.”

“You were right,” Lena says again, not understanding how Alex still hasn’t caught on.

“I get it, I was right, but about what?”

“Kara.”

That’s it, that’s all it takes, that single word, uttered as barely a breath, barely a whisper, nothing more than a prayer. It’s one word and Alex’s eyes fill with tears, and before Lena knows it, the elder Danvers has rammed into her, engulfing her in a tight embrace, practically sobbing with relief.

“She’s alive,” Alex says, “she’s alive.”

“You were right, I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before, I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you.” She wants to say more but Alex has pulled away and is looking at Lena like she singlehandedly saved Kara herself, while Maggie looks vaguely suspicious.

“What brought this on, Luthor?” Maggie asks, ever the detective. “What changed your mind?”

Alex steps further away from Lena, both of them turning to look at Maggie in unison, frowning at her tone. Maggie doesn’t shy away from their stares; instead, her back straightens and her arms cross her chest defensively.

“What?” she asks when Lena and Alex merely continue to stare at her. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“Except it’s not the one you’re really asking, detective,” Lena says, eyes narrowed. “Say what you mean.” She hopes Maggie will drop it, she hopes that Maggie will raise her hands in surrender and back off.

Maggie doesn’t.

“Fine. You were supposed to help Alex accept what happened, not make all this worse.” Maggie’s tone is cold and hard, slipping into the part she plays when she’s at work, and Lena thinks she can actually spot the moment that Alex’s faith in her girlfriend slips away. Because Maggie’s tone, stance, and stubborn gaze makes one thing abundantly clear: she does not believe them.

“She’s alive,” Lena insists, looking from Maggie to Alex, noticing the elder Danvers seems distracted, her eyes now on the ground, her hands shaking. “She didn’t die.”

“For fuck’s—we all saw what happened, Lena! We all saw the attack and the fall.”

“No, we only saw what they wantedus to see,” Lena says, ignoring Maggie’s scoff and focusing on Alex. “We were convinced Kara died, but what if someone wanted it that way?”

“The entire world thinks Kara’s dead, Lena!” Maggie says, her eyes on Alex as well though she steps between the two of them, as if blocking Alex from Lena’s line of sight would somehow protect her girlfriend from what Lena is saying. “You can’t tell me that there’s someone out there that can make the entire world hallucinate something simultaneously.”

“Not the entire world, actually. Just us. We were the ones that told the world she was gone.”

“That still doesn’t explain how we were tricked—”

“—that Martians can plant images or thoughts in people’s mind with their telepathy—”

“—unless you’re accusing J’onn there aren’t any other Martians to plant anything—”

“—and Martians aren’t the only alien species who have telepathic powers!” Lena finishes, throwing her hands up in the air. She knows her cheeks are likely covered in red splotches, a flush appearing on her neck and ears thanks to the combination of frustration and pale skin, and her chest is heaving, but she doesn’t back down. She can’t.

Kara is alive, and they had to find her.

“Alex,” Lena says, looking past Maggie’s disapproving face and staring at the elder Danvers who’s remained uncharacteristically silent on the matter. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I wasn’t sure. I looked into those reports—the surges and miracles you talked about. Kara’s out there, and she’s trying to get home.”

Alex looks up and Maggie’s shoulders deflate at the fire in Alex’s eyes—the determination, the vindication, the hope,shining brightly. “Finally,” she says, squaring her shoulders and nodding. “You finally believe me.

“Alex—” Lena begins, but Alex waves her off.

“Better late than never, Luthor. But we have a lot of work to do.”

“Where do we start?”

“With Clark. If anyone knows what really happened, it’s him. I’m just going to need your help.” She grins broadly and rushes off, heading towards her bedroom—to dress, to gather her things, to call Clark, Lena doesn’t know. She just wishes that Alex hadn’t left her alone with Maggie Sawyer.

“If you’re wrong, it’ll break her. If you’re wrong, I’m coming after you,” she threatens lowly, stepping into Lena’s space.

“Don’t worry, detective. If I’m wrong, it’ll be punishment enough.”

Maggie softens at the admission—said softly and reluctantly—and she takes a step back, letting out a loud sigh and rolling her eyes. “Falling for a Danvers sister. I guess you and I have more in common than I thought.” She studies Lena’s face for a moment, likely detecting something Lena has no desire to have anyone detect or understand, and without warning she steps into Lena’s space again, this time pulling her into a hug. She holds on tightly, apparently not bothered that Lena doesn’t hug her back, not bothered that Lena’s just a little stiff and more than a little awkward. “If you and Alex believe, it’s enough for me. Let’s go get our Supergirl back, shall we?”

“What changed your mind?” Alex asks as the elevator stops, smiling awkwardly at a frazzled looking reporter with a stack of papers in his hands, mumbling under his breath as he gets off on his floor. When the elevator doors slide shut and they’re alone, Lena leans her head back against the wall, watching the numbers light up on the panel as they pass several floors.

“I had a dream,” she answers honestly.

“Oh?”

(It sounds like an Oh?, a ‘Oh, you had that sort of dream?’ and it makes Lena blush.

Because, yes, that’s a part of it. But it was mostly Kara’s certainty that Lena would find her. It was the reminder that Kara always hoped—always had faith—and Lena owed it to her be the same way.

And to be perfectly frank, telling Kara’s sister about her feelings for the alien is a conversation she’s not keen on having.)

“Yes.”

“Not going to elaborate?”

“Kara always believed in me. And I believe in her. And by extension you.”

“Oh damn, Maggie was right,” Alex says, eyes wide. Fortunately, Lena’s spared having to think of a response when the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open to their floor. “After you, Luthor,” Alex says with a grin, motioning for Lena to go on ahead of her. With a huff, Lena does as she’s told, holding her head up high as they walk through the office, ignoring the looks—from shock to distrust to amusement—that follow them as they pass by cubicles. The whisperings of ‘Holy shit is that Lena Luthor?’ begin immediately, and Lena curses the entire place for the umpteenth time.

She really, really hates The Daily Planet.

They catch sight of James as they blindly walk around, and his wide smile and genuine happiness to see them puts Lena at ease despite where she is and who’s she’s surrounded by (vultures, the very vultures that destroyed her family’s name, dragging it through the mud, though admittedly, much of that dragging was deserved thanks to Lex and Lillian).

“He’s not here,” James informs them after quick greetings and a tight hug, pulling them into an empty room and closing the door behind him. “There was a fire and he went to help out, he should be back soon.”

“Thank you for this, James,” Alex says, looking relieved. “I know Clark’s your friend—”

“Don’t thank me, I looked at the footage like you said. You’re right, it’s fishy. And if tricking Clark helps us get to the bottom of it…” He trails off, clearly unwilling to state how he’s prepared to hurt his best friend in order to find Kara. “Do you think it’ll work?”

“Mr. Kent doesn’t trust me,” Lena says with an easy shrug. “I say it’ll work quite fine.” Alex opens her mouth, almost as if she wants to reassure Lena that Clark’s alone in his reticence to trust the last remaining Luthor, but it snaps back shut when they hear a flurry and a sound of boots landing. (Lena’s sure Alex just had the same thought she did: for a moment—just a moment—they both convinced themselves they’d turn around and see Kara come in from the window, a grin in her face from the flight, her hands on her hips, hair windswept. Instead, they’re met with Clark Kent’s narrowed and suspicious eyes.)

“James? What is this?”

“We want to know where you took Kara,” Alex says before James can even open his mouth. Clark—Superman, Lena’s not really sure how to address him—stares as his best friend merely steps back and allows Alex to begin her interrogation.

“I told you the last several times you came here,” Clark begins heatedly, revealing where Alex was off to when neither Maggie or J’onn were aware of her whereabouts, “she’s gone. She’s in Rao’s light and you need to let her go.”

“My sister is not dead!”

“Alex,” Lena warns, worried they’ll be overheard. Clark seems to share the concern because he raises his hands in surrender.

“You’re sad,” he says bracingly. “I understand. I’m sad too.”

“Don’t you dare,” Alex hisses, “don’t you dare pretend you’re going through anything similar to me. I love her, I’d do anything for her. You gave her up! You sent her away! You abandoned her!”

“I loved Supergirl too—”

“Kara is not gone,” Alex interrupts, shocking Clark enough that his hands drop and his eyes flit over to Lena.

“Alex, what’re you doing—”

“I know who you are, Mr. Kent,” Lena says, rolling her eyes at the fear clear on his face. “I may not be like Lex in many respects, but neither of us are blind and glasses are not an adequate disguise.”

“Lex Luthor knows about—”

“We don’t have time for this. Tell us where you took Kara.” Lena must not sound as scary as Kara sometimes claimed she did, because Clark just groans.

“For the hundredth time, Kara is gone. I heard her heart stop.”

“Did you? Or did you just think you did?” James questions, leaning against the door. “You should listen to what they have to say, Clark. Because if they’re right, Kara’s in trouble and she needs our help.”

“And if I don’t?” Clark asks, his false bravado failing as his voice shakes even at the possibility of his cousin still being alive—at somehow having been wrong. Lena pushes aside the pity she suddenly feels for him—the sorrow that fills her at the thought that Clark has spent the last several months thinking he not only lost his only genetic relation, but one of his kind, leaving the weight of an entire civilization (not even rightly his), once on Kara’s shoulders, solely on his back—and steps forward.

“If you don’t, Mr. Kent,” Lena says, her voice low and her tone cold, “I’ll do what my brother couldn’t bring himself to: I’ll tell the world who you really are.”

J’onn, Maggie, and James (as the Guardian) go over the details of the plan again, but Lena sits back, content to watch Winn argue a point, Vasquez and Lucy offering their own advice and suggestions.

It’s remarkable, really, how many people have been willing to put their hearts on the line in order to pursue this razor thin thread of hope that Alex’s faith and a bit of shaky footage has offered them. It’s remarkable how a few seconds of video—moments, mere heartbeats, really—show the relief on Clark’s face before it morphs into despair and that’s enough for all of them to practically move into the DEO and use the information Clark gave them to attempt to figure out where Kara could be.

(“I took her to the Fortress, I thought maybe Kelex could help somehow. But I had to leave—there was a plane crash over Bulgaria—and when I got back, Kara was gone and Kelex told me she’d joined her family in Rao’s light. I didn’t think to question it. I was sure I heard her heart stop.”

“If we don’t find her, it’ll be your fault.”

“I was trying to protect you, Alex. I didn’t want you to keep hoping for something that wouldn’t come true. I’m sorry. Let me help now.”

“I think you’ve done more than enough protecting, Clark,” Alex had hissed, and that was that.)

And though she knows it’s a waiting game at this point—already having done as much as she could by helping Winn design the program that could narrow Kara’s location—she feels useless and helpless. She wants to be moving, she wants to feel as if she’s accomplishing something, she wants Kara in her arms, wants to kiss her for real—admit how she feels for real.

She just wants Kara back, in any capacity. A friend, the city’s superhero, a bumbling reporter. Kara needed to come back.

“Hungry?” Alex asks, interrupting Lena’s thoughts as she plops down in the chair next to Lena, offering an energy bar. Lena shakes her head and Alex shrugs, unwrapping the bar and taking a large bite. “You know, Luthor,” she says between chews, raising one eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clark scared till you threatened him. I’m impressed.”

“It was all in a day’s work,” Lena says proudly before her shoulders droop. “I just hope Kara doesn’t hate me for it.”

“If anything, Kara will be too busy hating me to hate you. So I think you’ll be fine.”

“Why would Kara hate you?”

She regrets the question as soon as she asks it because it makes Alex’s smile and her cheerful attitude slip away almost immediately.

“It was my fault.”

“No,” Lena immediately denies, shaking her head. “No it wasn’t.”

“Don’t lie, you’re not good at it,” Alex says mirthlessly. “It’s something you and my sister share.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the issue, isn’t it? I just…stood back. Allowed it to happen. Ignored the warning signs because of a charming smile and a few excuses.” She turns her head, and Lena looks down, wanting to spare Alex the embarrassment of seeing her cry—something she thinks the agent is tired of doing in front of Lena. “I was so involvedwith Kara’s relationship with James,” Alex continues, voice muffled. “We talked almost every night, we joked about it, I let her cry on my shoulder when Lucy came to National City. But with Mon-El—God, I didn’t even questionit. Didn’t even wonder if it was really something she wanted, but I pushed for it because I wanted her to have what I have. And when things started to fray with him, all the fights and the arguments…I just thought it was none of my business. I stayed out of it, and Lena, that’s on me.”

“You couldn’t have known he would turn out the way he did.”

“You mean violent? Aggressive? Selfish? Because I did know all that. We allknew that.”

“The only one responsible for Mon-El’s actions is Mon-El. And he got what he deserved.”

“He should’ve died. I should’ve killed him.”

“Except you’re not a killer.” Lena looks over at Alex, frowning at the strained look on her face and her tense shoulders. “Kara loves you and she wouldn’t want you to become a killer for her.”

“Technically, it wouldn’t be for her. It’d be to get rid of the worst thing to happen to this planet,” Alex says wryly, clearly attempting to joke and change the subject. But Lena’s more stubborn than Alex expects, and she doesn’t smile or even react to the comment.

“When Lex did the things he did I wondered if anything I ever accomplished would matter. After all, I’d always be tainted by Lex, his dark shadow always looming over me. In the end, it was Kara who made me see that what I do matters, that I was right in wanting to move away from Lex’s legacy.”

“Yeah?” Alex says disinterestedly, still trying to shrug this topic off.

“Yes. Kara is living proof that regardless of all the terrible things that happen—to us or others—we still have a choice, we still have the opportunity to do as much good as we can, be as kind and accepting as possible, and change the world for the better.” Lena smiles, bumping shoulders with Alex. “You don’t pay back bad with more bad, Alex Danvers. You squash it out by overwhelming the world with good.”

“God, you’re a sap. You really love her, don’t you?” Alex says, and this time, Lena allows the subject change, ignoring the tears in Alex’s eyes.

“Yeah. I do.”

They get their first real break when a woman visiting family in India returns with stories of a super woman who could carry more weight than any of the men in their town, a super woman who’d single-handedly saved dozens after an earthquake caused the local hospital to collapse, reminding everyone of the fallen hero, Supergirl.

But when Lena prepares to pack, prepares to visit the area along with Alex, Lucy, J’onn, Vasquez, and others, she’s held back by Maggie.

“You and me are sitting this one out, Luthor,” Maggie tells her, leaning against the doorway to the DEO barracks where Lena’s been spending her time away from the office. She makes another mental note to give Jess a pay raise after she didn’t question why Lena asked for some of her clothes to be brought to the office—didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Lena came in every morning with yesterday’s clothing.

“Like hell we are,” Lena shoots back, resuming her packing. (Mostly it’s just essentials, a laptop to work, her phone charger to make sure she could keep up with the going-ons at L-Corp.) “I want to be there when we find Kara.”

“She might not be there.”

“Maggie—”

“I’m just being realistic. It might be a coincidence. And if it isn’t, haven’t you wondered why Kara hasn’t come back if she still has her powers? Why she’s been MIA for months?”

“Maybe she can’t. Maybe she’s hurt. Maybe she’s being threatened.”

“But she has time to help earthquake victims?”

“Dammit Maggie!” Lena shouts, at wit’s end, tired of Maggie’s endless cynicism. (And if a part of her knows it’s not cynicism but pragmatism—something Lena used to be known for, a cold logic she could apply to any situation regardless of her feelings, except apparently, when it involves Kara—she doesn’t dwell on it. She can’t.) “What do you want from me?” she asks, voice dropping to barely a whisper, collapsing onto her bunk and cradling her head in her hands.

“You’re worried. You’re scared. You’re hurt. I get it, Luthor, I do. But you’re not thinking straight. Kara’s a part of the DEO, she’s their agent, and recovering her is a mission for the DEO. Not for a lowly NCPD detective, and not for a CEO.”

“You wanted to go too, didn’t you? Who said no? J’onn? Alex?”

“Little Danvers is important to me, even if you and Alex think I’m a monster for being realistic about this whole thing.” She pauses, leaning her head against the doorway and closing her eyes briefly. “I want her to be alive too. I want her back too.” She opens her eyes and straightens, eyes determined. “I said you and Alex believing is enough for me, and I meant it. But someone has to be ready to pick up the pieces if all this goes wrong.”

“That doesn’t sound like faith, detective. It sounds like you’re waiting to play cleanup.”

“In my experience, faith doesn’t really work out.”

Lena drops her hands and finds herself smiling at Maggie, shrugging helplessly even as she resigns herself to remaining behind.

“Yes, my experience is like that too. But this is Kara. So I believe.”

Maggie snorts, shuffling over to Lena’s bunk and sitting down next to her, the two of them staring at the floor. “Like I said, how it is bubbly, happy Little Danvers attracted such stubborn people will forever be a mystery to me.”

“Probably because she’s the most stubborn of all of us.”

(And if it’s said almost like a prayer—a hope that Kara’s stubbornness gets her through this latest threat, this latest obstacle in her life as a superhero—neither Maggie nor Lena show any indication they notice it. They can’t.)

She spends her lunch walking in Hero’s Park.

The memorial is finished now, nearly six months after Supergirl fell to her supposed death, and it truly is breathtaking. The statue stands near a fountain that’s shaped like the House of El crest, a massive ‘S’ standing in the center, covered in words people have used to describe Supergirl. (Things like hero, brave, gentle, kind, friend, and even love.) It’s become somewhat of a tourist destination, especially after Superman came one afternoon to brush his hand over Kara’s likeness, as if he thought if he stared hard enough or hoped hard enough, the stone would dematerialize and leave a very real and very alive Kara in its place.

(He uses that visit to also come by the DEO and apologize again, offering his help again, and Lena wishes she could’ve seen Alex’s scathing response, even if J’onn accepted the aid—stating they’d need all the help they could get.)

James, Winn, and Maggie are with her, the four of them left behind, banding together in this moment, breathlessly waiting for news—for Alex’s return, if all goes right, with Kara. James keeps staring at the statue, Winn chatters nervously, and Maggie’s texting, her brows furrowed at whatever she’s reading.

Lena doesn’t ask—she worries it involves Kara and she isn’t sure she wants to know if anything’s gone wrong.

“We should have a game night to celebrate her return,” James says suddenly. “All you can eat pizza and potstickers and ice cream. Maybe some of that alien alcohol that can get Kara drunk.”

“And Monopoly,” Winn adds. “If she’s getting drunk we should play Monopoly, it’s always more fun that way.”

“And karaoke,” Maggie laughs, slipping her phone into her pocket and grinning. “Have you heard Kara sing? There’s a reason she’s called super.”

“We should invite everybody,” Winn continues. “From the DEO, Metropolis—drag Cat Grant into it if we have to. Maybe we could even get into contact with her inter-dimensional friends, Barry and Cisco and the others.” He smiles dreamily. “I can talk about the multiverse with them.”

“The first thing I’m going to do when Kara’s back is give her a hug,” Maggie says. “I miss Little Danvers’ hugs.”

“I’m going to spoil every single TV show she follows. It’s going to make her so mad,” Winn says happily, rubbing his hands together.

“I’ll just tell her that Cat’s back in charge and that Kara’s job is waiting for her if she wants it.”

“Lena?” Maggie question, coming to a halt and pulling Lena to a stop as well. “What about you?”

“I think I’ll just be happy she’s back,” Lena says, not meeting Maggie’s eyes and ignoring Winn’s blatant amusement and James’s raised eyebrows.

“Come on, Luthor,” Maggie presses.

“Yeah, Lena. There’s nothing you want to tell Kara?” Winn adds, holding back a smile.

“You know, the one obvious thing throughout all this, something you’d think one would want to confess if they got a second chance?” James asks, his eyebrows still comically raised.

“I don’t know what any of you mean,” Lena says resolutely, her chin jutting out even as she avoids all their eyes. “Kara being back would be more than enough for me.”

“Kara being back would be more than enough for all of us,” James says, actually letting out a laugh. “But take it from someone who’s been where you are—if you don’t tell her, you’ll regret it forever.”

Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday.

It makes her wonder sometimes, this sole fact. Because Supergirl returns quietly, without fanfare, without buzz, rolled into the DEO on a bed, injured and unconscious, Alex gripping her hand so tightly that Lena is almost sure she’s impending blood flow.

(Over the next few days, the story—the truth—begins to come out. There’s talk of spores from a starfish-like alien named Starro. How this alien has hated Superman since he and others locked Starro away, how the spores were able to not mind-control entirely but suggest certain thoughts, how Supergirl had been trying to get back for months, resisting the spore’s effects as best she could. There’s explanations as to how Superman was exposed to the spores in the first place, how he came to be so sure that Kara died in his arms, how Kara managed to leave the Fortress of Solitude as weak as she was, as confused as she was.

And the strangest thing of all, Kara’s last words before she passes out after Alex removes the spores: where’s Lena?)

Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday and it’s extraordinary in its simplicity, its easiness, the utter sense of rightness. She slips in as if she never left, as if she was never gone, as if no time has passed at all, and even though she’s laying on a bed underneath several sun lamps, Alex never straying too far from her side, she feels so permanent—so unmovable and untouchable.

Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday, and by Monday the entire world becomes aware of it as well when she saves a school bus from getting hit by a man running a red light.

(It’s as if the world is upturned again, as if they entered some sort of alternate realty. The President returns to National City for a photo op with Supergirl, shaking her hand and exclaiming how glad she is to have Supergirl back. The memorial remains in place but is called a celebratory monument. People swarm into the park, hoping to get a photo with the statue and maybe even a flash of red as Supergirl flies by overhead.

Alex calls Lena at work and tells her that Superman comes to the DEO not even a day after Supergirl wakes up, exclaiming how grateful he is to have her back, and how much they need to watch ‘that Luthor,’ much to Alex’s amusement.

James visits and admits Cat offered his job back and he thinks he might take it, realizing after some time away that the distance from his friends wasn’t something he could live with.)

(Lena doesn’t see Supergirl after that first Saturday she’s back. She wishes she could stay by Kara’s side like Alex, but she manages little more than brief visits when she has the time, and after Kara wakes up, Lena’s assaulted by reporters asking her how she feels about Supergirl’s return, embroiling L-Corp in a conversation her company shouldn’t be involved in. She’s busyand Supergirl is busy—making up for all the lost time, zooming about all hours of the day and night, no job too large or too small for her help—and it’s okay.

After all, all she needs to do when she feels overwhelmed or sad or worried is close her eyes and listen to the superhero speeding about the city, or turn on the news and witness it for herself, for her heart to settle and her mind to ease.)

And while James, Alex, Maggie, and even J’onn ask if Lena’s seen Kara yet—ask if she wants help tracking Kara down, getting her alone, admitting the truth. But they don’t understand, Lena doesn’t need anything other than knowing Supergirl is around. They don’t understand that for Lena, Supergirl’s presence in National City is enough.

Because Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday, but more importantly, so doesKara.

A week passes before Lena hears that oh-so-telling thud of boots against her balcony. It’s years of lessons drilled into her head about not reacting—never showing her hand—that stops her from turning around immediately, not rushing to Kara immediately, not gushing immediately. Instead she slowly shuts her laptop and smiles as Kara steps into view, her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side.

“Are you avoiding me, Lena Luthor?” Kara asks, the first thing she’s said to Lena since before the fall, since before the world turned upside down at the loss of their greatest hero. She’s smiling as she moves to stand in front of Lena’s desk, arms crossing over her chest, covering up her House’s coat of arms. There’s an odd sense of tension between them, a silence filled with so much going unsaid, an awkwardness that only time and distance can ever really bring about.

“I could ask you the same thing, Supergirl,” Lena says as she stares at the woman who’s her best friend, the woman she’s fallen in love with, the woman she felt so lost without. She wanted Kara back, and now that she is, it’s frustrating that it feels so strange.

“Apparently disappearing for months on end is not a good idea,” Kara says, leaning back onto the heels of her feet. “Means a lot of work when you finally get back.”

“Something to remember the next time you decide to make the entire world think you’re dead, I’m sure,” Lena says, unable to keep her eyes off Kara, roving over the curls of her hair, the blue of her eyes, the lift of her lips, the tap of her fingers, even the set of her shoulders. Lena drinks her in, storing up for another potential drought, never wanting to forget the strength of Kara’s back, the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She’s back, Lena reminds herself. This was what she wanted. This was the thing she hoped for.

“I’m sorry about that by the way,” Kara says, dropping her gaze. “I hadn’t meant—”

“To get betrayed by someone we all trusted and then be subjected to one of Superman’s enemies? You’re not the only one who didn’t mean for that to happen, Kara. And none of it is your fault.”

“I should’ve known better,” she says, hanging her head. “I didknow better but somehow he…” Lena watches as Kara trails off, struggling to find the words to explain what went wrong, and Lena finds that enough is enough. Awkwardness and tension be damned, she gets up quickly, rounds the desk, and pulls Kara into a hug (the first hug since before the fall, since before losing her best friend, since before her world turned upside down at the loss of the woman she’s in love with).

“I missed you so much,” Lena says, wanting nothing but to show Kara how amazing she is, how wonderful she is, how utterly neededshe is. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I knew, you know,” Kara mutters into Lena’s neck, her arms wrapping around Lena’s waist pulling her closer. “I knew you and Alex wouldn’t give up on me. I knew you two would find me.”

And Lena knows that one day she and Alex will have to tell Kara about the drinking, about how everyone ignored Alex for months, about how it took a very realdream about Kara for Lena to believe as well. And she knows that one day—not today, but soon—Kara will have to talk about what happened to her, explain how it was that she fought off the spores that had so completely convinced Clark of her death.

But today, the first time Lena has seen Kara since the fall, since her supposed death, all that can wait. Today, Lena just holds on tighter to Kara, revels in her warmth, and lets out a laugh.

“I suppose Alex and I are just stubborn that way.”

The next time she visits Hero’s Park and the monument dedicated to Supergirl, it’s with Kara, the two of them arm in arm, Kara enjoying an ice cream cone.

“Lucy and James got back together,” Kara informs Lena suddenly, releasing Lena’s arm and turning around to walk backwards, one sticky hand holding onto Lena’s hand. “Lucy says they’re pretty happy.”

“I’m glad. James and Lucy deserve that.”

“They do. Honestly, I’m not surprised. James has been different these past few months, spending so much time at the DEO and with Lucy—it was obvious he wanted to try again.”

“I’m just glad James decided to stay in National City. I don’t think anyone would be able to control Winn’s cheating at game night otherwise.”

“I don’t think Clark’s quite forgiven James yet for what you and Alex did,” Kara says with a laugh, squeezing Lena’s hand when she looks away at the reminder. “I doubt James wants to go back to Metropolis anytime soon.”

“It’s not like I would’ve actually given away his secret. It’s not my fault he doesn’t see past my last name.”

“Exactly.”

“And I—wait. What?”

“I said exactly. I love Clark, but the man needs to relax a little bit more. All that stress probably isn’t very healthy.” Kara grins and motions towards Lena’s bench—the one she spent so much time on nearly a year ago. They sit down together, arms brushing, and like always, Lena’s heart rate spikes at merely the proximity.

“Alex says I traumatized him.”

“Pfft. Alex is the one who traumatizes people. You’re too…you for that.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“You know,” Kara gestures wildly over at Lena, her eyes wide. “You’re you.”

“I’m sorry, Kara, I don’t know what you mean—”

“—you’re aloof but really warm and kind behind all that standoffishness and it’s just…you. An oxymoron personified.”

“If you say so…” Lena mumbles, not at all sure if she should be insulted or not. She’s not even quite sure if she wantsto be her, as Kara puts it. Mostly, she wishes she was anyone but herself.

“James told me to wait for you,” Kara says, making Lena lose her train of thought and turn to her in confusion, “but I’m sort of tired of waiting because, well, I’m not the most patient person ever.”

“No, you’re really not.”

“And the thing is, I’ve told Alex, but I haven’t told you because I was scared, but you being you…I mean, that’s what saved me.”

Lena laughs, rolling her eyes and bumping shoulders with Kara. “Are you talking about that attack on L-Corp earlier this week? For the last time, Kara, I didn’t saveyou, I just did what I had to do to. Besides, he was myformer employee, if anything it’s my fault that—”

“I’m talking about last year, Lena. About the spores and being stranded at the Fortress of Solitude.” That shuts Lena up, her mouth snapping close, her eyes somehow fixed on Kara’s uncharacteristically serious face. “I’d get these flashes of you,” she continues. “Of something you said, something you did, and I’d realize that whatever was happening wasn’t real. Because of you. Because youfelt real.” She laughs, returning to her normal, bumbling self, her hands adjusting her glasses awkwardly, her lips twisted into a wry smile. “You saved me from my own thoughts and I guess—”

This time, it’s Lena’s turn to interrupt Kara. Not with words, not with a look, but by leaning in and pressing their lips together in a kiss remarkably similar to the one she dreamed about, momentarily making Lena question whether what’s happening is real or not.

And when she pulls away to see Kara’s eyes flutter open, a thrilled grin on her lips, Lena finds herself falling yet again.

But in a good way—in the only way that matters.

#supercorp #fanfic #kara danvers #lena luthor #old #the next one will be new I just gotta finish it

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speeding-fox · 5 years

Text

Stay Strong

~~~~

"I should've listened to you.

If I had, you would still be here,

along with the others,

but I went against your warnings,

and now because of my foolishness...

They're gone...

You're gone...

I'm so sorry..."

~~~~

It's been a few months since the incident occured, and while Midori's broken arm, leg, and other injuries he received from that event have healed, and he seemed to be ready to head back into the military, on the inside, some things are still broken, he still isn't himself. He doesn't want to go back, he can't go back...

His mother, Clover, tried to reach out to him, trying to convince him to not quit, but being overcome with depression and guilt, he was unwilling to listen to reason, and she could only watch as her son entered his father's office. He walked up to his father, General Shinrinbon, whom seemed happy that his son recovered from his injuries. The General spoke first.

"Midoribon, mon fils! Welcome back!" He shouted enthusiastically. "Are you ready to return to your training?"

Midori sighed. "Pére, I am here for another reason..." He responded flatly. He felt nervous, but awaited Shinrin's next question, the fated question.

Shinrin's smile dropped at the seriousness in his son's tone. His son was usually eager, so hearing that, he knew the news isn't going to be good. "What is zeh reason, Midoribon?"

Midori took a deep breath, and took off his beret. Something was screaming in him to not do what he's about to do, but he was too depressed to listen to that voice. He shakily put the beret on his father's desk, and it was some time before he let go of it, as that particular beret was given to him by his own father. "I don't deserve this..."

Shinrin gaze went to the beret on his desk, then to his son while giving a bewildered stare. "Mon fils, what do you mean?" Midori slowly looks up into his father in the eyes, before looking away. "I quit..."

The General couldn't believe what he just heard. His son, his pride and joy, and one of his best and most eager of his soldiers...quit? "Qu-Quit?" Was all he could utter in his state of shock.

Midori could feel how disappointed his father was by that one word alone, it stung, and filled him with shame. He couldn't bare to look at him now.

Despite being upset, Shinrin can understand why his son wanted to quit, but at the same time, he was disappointed to know that he could be losing another one of his best soldiers because of...that event. "Zis... Zis has to do with what happened a few months ago, doezn't it?"

Midori remained silent, still refusing to even glance at his dad, he didn't want him to see him cry. Even with Midori's avoidance of eye contact and no words being uttered, Shinrin knew the answer to that question. "Midoribon, it's not in my position to make you change your mind, but..." Shinrin paused. "Are you sure you want to do zis?"

Midori turned his back to him, preparing to leave. "I'm...positive." He replied shakily, trying hard to not lose it infront of his father. He went towards the door.

Shinrin stood up. "Wait." This stopped Midori briefly. "Mon fils, I want to let you know you will still have your position if you choose to return."

Midori started to shake. "I'm sorry, Pére." His voice cracked. "I don't know if I will be coming back." He opens the door.

"What's about the cadets?" Shinrin spoke up. "They've been awaiting your return... What am I supposed to tell zem?"

"..." Midori didn't know how to answer that. Why would the cadets be waiting for their failure of a Captain to return? He didn't respond, and said "Farewell, General Shinrinbon.", then left, leaving Shinrin on his own.

For a few moments, he stared at the door Midori left, then to the beret left on his desk. Growing up, was his son's dream to be in the military, he wanted to be one of the best soldiers and follow in his father's footsteps, that's why Shinrin gave him his old beret, but now seeing that same beret on his desk, it didn't just hurt his pride, it hurt knowing his son's dreams got crushed thanks to that counter-ambush of the opposing army. He wished for a way to change his son's mind, but it's not in his right to make his decisions for him, Midori's old enough to make his own, and he has to respect that. All he can do for him is hope he will one day come back. In the end, it was all up to Midori.

~~~~

That night, Midori had a nightmare, a nightmare he was haunted with ever since that failed mission months ago, the event he desperately wishes to forget. Almost every night, he has to relive it, over and over. It was torture.

Soldiers screaming, others crying out for help while others yelled for retreat, all the while the opposing army was unleashing their onslaught, and the downed captain couldn't do anything but helplessly watch the carnage happen. How could the opposing army anticipated their ambush, how could Midori not have predicted this?! No, he did know about this, he was warned about this, his most trusted cadet let him know of his concern, yet Midori chose to not heed him, he should have listened. Why did he have to think everything would go well just because of the past successes?! Now he has to pay the price for it!

A big blast was heading his way, but Midori couldn't get up and get away, his arm and leg were broken, he was incapacitated. As it was nearing him, a Bomber Fighter got inbetween him and the blast, and shielded him. What followed was an explosion, and Midori screaming out.

"SERUIANBOOOOON!"

His scream echoed as everything got covered in a bright flash of light, then when the light faded, everything but Midori just... vanished, even the sounds were gone, there was nothing but a void and almost peaceful silence. Midori didn't notice the change right away, he was busy bawling while huddled up on the ground, and muttering "This is my fault! I'm so sorry!" over and over. He then heard a familar voice.

"Midoribon. You're safe now. Open your eyes."

Hearing that calm voice, Midori stopped crying, and opened his eyes, then looked around, he was now at a peaceful grassy field surrounded by flowers. What just happened? Where did everything go? He could've sworn this was a battlefield a few moments ago, but now it was a heavenly, grassy plain, he greatly prefered this over the chaos, though the real question is, how did he get here?

He remembered about the voice that spoke to him earlier, letting him know he was safe, he recognized it. He looked around for the owner, but didn't see him while looking left and right. He must be behind him then.

Slowly, Midori turned himself around to face whoever spoke, and once he did, he was stunned, and ready to sob once again. There, looking at him, was his boyfriend, Seruian, but... why is he see through? How is he even here? He thought he was...

After a few moments of stunned silence, Midori finally uttered "S...Se...Seruian...b-bon?!" Seruian gave him a soft smile as he reaches his hand out to help Midori to his feet. "It's been a little while, hasn't it, Greenie?" He said that so casually and calmly, like someone meeting an old friend for the first time in awhile.

Midori could only stare at Seruian, he felt so many emotions at once, he didn't know how to feel. Was this the real Seruian, or was this just another figment Midori's dream conjured up? He needed to know.

"Are... Are you really him? Are you really Seri?" He asks as he takes Seruian's hand to help himself to his feet.

Seruian gave him a look. "Are you being serious, Greenie? Of course it's me! Do I have to bring your love for strawberry puffs or your fear of bees into this just to prove I'm the real deal?"

Midori blushes, okay, he's the real deal. He waved his hands in front of him. "No no no, that would not be necessary! You proved enough already!" Both share a chuckle, before they went silent.

Midori lowered his head. He was happy to see his boyfriend again, but he recalled the weight of what happened months ago. He looks back up at him, and asked "What are you doing here?"

"I sensed you needed some help." Was his response. "So I thought I'd come down and have a little talk, you really seem like you need it."

Midori adverted eye contact and said nothing. Seruian sat down on the grassy landscape, and patted a spot next to him with his hand, offering Midori a spot. "Sit down." Midori hesitated for moment, but he did sit next to Seruian, though he still wasn't looking at him.

"Midori, please look at me." He asked calmly. "I... I can't, Seruian..." Midori responded solemnly.

"You can't? Why can't you?" Midori began to tremble, he can feel water rolling down his face, the overwhelming guilt was returning. He couldn't answer him, as he didn't want to cry in front of his boyfriend.

"Allow me to guess, does it involve the nightmare you were just having, which is the failed mission from months before?" Midori didn't answer as he feels that any word he'll say will make him burst, so he slowly nods to answer Seruian's question. "And why can't you look at me exactly?"

Midori was quiet, his grip on the soft grass tightened, then mumbled softly "I failed you..." Seruian didn't catch what he said due to his whispering. "What'd you say?"

Midori went from trembling to shaking. Before Seruian got another word out, Midori Faces him, and loses it. The dam broke.

"IT'S BECAUSE I FAILED YOU, SERUIANBON! I FAILED TO LISTEN TO YOUR WARNINGS ALL BECAUSE OF MY OVERCONFIDENCE FROM THE PREVIOUS VICTORIES, AND BECAUSE OF MY FOOLISHNESS, SOLDIERS WERE LOST! YOU WERE LOST! IT'S ALL MY FAULT, SERUIAN! IT'S ALL MY FAULT! I SHOULD'VE LISTENED TO YOU! I...I'M...I... I was a terrible captain... I'm so...so sorry, Seruianbon..." Once his screaming was over, he cried uncontrollably into his hands. "I'm so sorry..." He sobbed over and over.

Seruian wasn't sure what to tell him to comfort him right this moment. He is right, he should've listened to his warnings, he knew Midori was in over his head at the time, but to blame himself over the casualties, he can understand the guilt, however, it wasn't entirely his fault the lives of those soldiers were lost. He needed to know this. Seruian was getting ready to tell him that, but stopped when he heard the next thing Midori said.

"I was an awful boyfriend..."

Seruian immediately grabbed his shoulders firmly, and swiftly turned Midori to face him. Midori stopped bawling right as he did that, not expecting him to do that so suddenly as he was calm up until this point.

"Don't you DARE say that!" Seruian yelled at him. "Don't you DARE say you were an awful boyfriend!"

Midori tried to say something, but was quickly stopped before he got one word out. "No, don't say it! I can't believe you would even think that!"

There was a long pause, until Seruian sighed. "Midori, I know you feel horrible for that failed ambush a while back, but you can't go saying you were an awful boyfriend because of a choice I made." Another pause. "You were never awful."

Midori blinked, trying to find the right words to utter. How could Seruian think he wasn't awful after not trusting his judgement, and '-a choice I made.' ...what did he mean by that..?

"How can you still think that after everything that happened?" He gazed at the ground. "I was the reason you lost your life." Tears began falling once again. "If it wasn't for my f**king cockiness, those soldiers would still be alive! You would still be alive!" He looked back up at him with watering eyes. "How could you not be angry with me?!"

"Midoribon, listen." Seruian said sternly. "You deeply regret your failure and blame yourself for the casualties, I get that, but you have to understand this: it wasn't your choice for them to stay and fight, it was their own." Midori glanced back up at him. "Their...own..?" Seruian nodded, then continued. "Yes, it was their own decision to fight until the end, those that fled the battle made the choice to retreat instead of staying to fight."

He then moves one of his hands from Midori's shoulders to his own chest. "Just as it was my own choice to sacrifice my life to save yours, so don't beat yourself up for our decisions anymore, none of that was your fault. Can you do that?"

So it wasn't because of Midori that the soldiers' lives got taken, it was because they bravely chose to stay and fight for what they believed was right until the very end, knowing that did bring him some closure, but there was one thing that still bothered him. "I'll try, but there's something I still need to know." Seruian raised a brow. "And that is?" He inquired.

Midori shifted his gaze to the side. "Even after brushing aside your concerns, trusting my poor judgement over trusting you, you still saved me." He gazed back at Seruian. "Why?" Seruian looked at him like he asked a dumb question. "Why? Are you really asking me that?"

Seruian let go of Midori's other shoulder, then stood up and held one fist to his chest. "I'm a goddamn soldier, Midori. It was my sworn duty to protect the lives of the innocent," He then holds the hand out for Midori to grab. "and those that I love."

'Love...' Midori grabs his hand and gets on his feet, but after standing up, he didn't want to let go of his hand, and Seruian didn't care. "I may have still been upset you didn't listen to me, but there was no way in h*ll I was going to run away and let you get blasted, had you died, I wouldn't live with myself." Seruian pulls Midori into a hug. "Even in my last moments, I still loved you, Greenie, don't you ever think otherwise."

Midori was silent for second, then came the waterworks once again, but unlike earlier, these were out of relief and joy, he no longer carried the weight that burdened him for so long, and he returned the hug. He cried for a bit before he tried talking again. "Th-Thank you, Seri, for everything. I really needed to hear that, to hear all of that." Even if he wasn't crying audibly, there were tears going down Seruian's face as well. "You don't need to thank me, you just really needed a wake-up call."

Their hug lasted for a long time, neither side wanting to break it, it was then that Seruian got a bright idea. "Hey, Greenie, do you remember what I used to do whenever I got the chance to?" What? Why would Seruian ask something like- wait a minute, oh no. Midori recognized when Seruian spoke in that tone, but it was too late to act by the time he realized.

"NOOGIE TIME!" The next thing Midori knew, he was put in a headlock and Seruian was giving him noogies! "AAH! SERI!" Midori was yelling, but it quickly turned into laughter. "You never change, do you, Seri?!" "Nope!" They both share laughs.

A bright light starts shining above them both, prompting them to halt their merriment and look up, while it was quite bright, the light itself wasn't blinding, and its illumination felt warm and comforting. Seruian had a solemn look, as he knows what it means, and let go of Midori. "I guess my time here is up."

"Time?" Midori was about to ask what he meant by that, but he realized the answer right away. "Wait." He quickly turned to Seruian. "You're...leaving..?"

Seruian looks down, then turned his head to Midori, and slowly nods. Midori grabs Seruian's hand with both hands. "But...but..." Streams go down his cheeks once more. "You can't leave yet! It's been so long! Can't you stay just a little longer?!"

Seruian sighs and closes his eyes. "I wish I could, Midori, I really do," He reopens his eyes, a few tears escape. "but it's not within my power to do so, in addition, you're going to wake up soon. I'm sorry, Midori."

"N-No." Midori sniffled as he wiped the tears away. "I understand."

"Before I go, Midori," Seruian places his free hand on top of Midori's. "I need you to promise me something." Midori glanced down at the hand, then back to Seruian. "What is it?"

Seruian stares at him in the eyes. "You and I know you made mistakes, and you're inevitably going to be making a whole bunch more, but no matter what happens, no matter how bad it may get, I want you to stay strong. Can you promise me that?"

Midori paused for a moment when he said 'stay strong,' before he gave him a nod, his eyes sparkling with new determination. "For you, Seri, of course I will!" Seruian smiled and let out a chuckle. "That's the Greenie I know and love!" They both let go of eachother's hands.

The light that shined above glew brighter, they both glance up at it, then back at eachother. "Another thing." Seruian piped up. "Hm?" "I'm not saying you should return to the military, that's not my decision to make, however, I am asking you to think about it." "But Seruian, I quit, and in front of my Pére no less. How could I go back after that? What would the cadets think if I rejoined after quitting so suddenly?"

Seruian went quiet, giving that some thought. "I don't know. Like I said, it's not up to me to make your choices for you. Whether or not you want to back is entirely up to you, but if you do, have courage." Seruian started to faintly glow, then a halo appears above his head, and angel wings made of light manifest on his back. Midori was in awe at this sight. "Se-Seri, you have..." Seruian chuckled and glanced at a wing. "I know. I was just as surprised as you are when I first saw these."

He then spread his wings, and his attention went back to Midori. "Is there anything else you wish to know before I go, Midori?" Midori hugged him right after he asked. "Yes." He began. "A few things actually." He pulled away a bit to look into his boyfriend's eyes, he hesitated asking this next thing. "Do you... Do you think I'll be able to find love again?"

Seruian nodded without missing a beat. "Of course! There's plenty of fishrons in the sea! It may not be right away, but I do believe you'll find that someone again someday, though right now," He softly pokes a finger onto Midori's chest. "I want you focus on yourself, okay?"

Midori nods. "Okay." Seruian softly smiles and lowers his hand. "Good."

"The other thing is..." He holds Seruian close. "Will I ever be... seeing you again..?" His voice cracked a bit asking that.

Seruian was quiet for a bit, then returned the hug. "Maybe. Only if you're really in need of some assistance, like in this circumstance, but hopefully, you won't have anymore terrible nightmares like that for a long time." "Heh, yeah, hopefully."

Before the two said their good-byes to one another, they gave eachother one final kiss, their tears falling onto the grass and flowers below them, it was a long time before they both broke it. They let go of eachother and took a step back, then stood tall and proud. "Captain Midoribon." Seruian salutes. "What are your final orders?"

"Cadet Seruianbon, your final order," Midori salutes back. "is to head home. You are dismissed." They both bow. "Thank you, Captain."

Once that exchange was over, Seruian flapped his luminescent wings, and started flying towards the light as Midori watched. He glanced at Midori one last time. "I love you, Greenie, farewell."

Midori waved at him. "I love you too, Seri. See you later." He continued waving as Seruian flew into the light.

~~~~

Midori woke up, and for the first time in months, he felt well-rested, it was a blissful feeling. He got out of bed, then did some stretches, boy did they feel good! Once he was done with his stretches, he eyed his closet, Seruian's words "stay strong" echoed through his mind, he knows he's seen those words before.

He puts on his bandana before heading over to his closet. He opens the door, and begins rummaging through some old boxes in an effort to find whatever he's looking for, it took a bit to find it, but he found the box he was looking for in the back of his closet, it was covered in dust due to being left untouched for a long time. It hasn't been touched ever since Seruian passed.

Midori blows the dust off the box before carefully opening it. The contents within were some VHS tapes, a photo album full of pictures of himself and Seruian, old tickets of when they saw the first Roboncop movie, some trinkets Seruian gave to him as gifts, and the rim of a photo frame that held a picture of them when they first got enlisted in the military together, just looking at these brought back so many good memories. In the midst of reminiscing on the good times, he picks up the photo frame by said rim, brushes the dust off the picture, and stares at it for some time. He remembers the day and the feeling he got when he was told he was accepted into the military, it was joyous, and he felt even moreso when he was told by Seruian he had also been accepted! All that arduous work had paid off!

He let out a soft chuckle. "That was quite the day, wasn't it? A day I'll never forget, that's for certain."

Midori flipped the frame over to check the back, on the other side in the lower right corner, there were written words that read "Stay strong, Greenie! -Seruianbon." He smiled and shed some tears. "All because you wanted me to stay strong, huh Seri? Well, I'll do it, just for you!"

He closes the box and pushes it under his bed, then takes the picture frame, and hangs it up on the wall by his bedside. Once done, he backs up a bit, then smiles. Just the right place.

His gaze then shifted to his bedroom door, smelling the scent of breakfast his mother is making. His mother... He feels he owes her an explanation as well as an apology for pushing her away when she was trying to help him through his lowest point, and felt he should finally tell her about his relationship with Seruian.

When he finally came out to her about everything, thankfully, it all went well, she not only accepted his apology, she also was supportive of him after he came out of the closet, and overall, she was glad Midori finally opened up to her and was taking steps to do better. There was one more thing left for him to do, but first, he had a lot of training to do. After two months of lots of training and hard work, Midori felt ready to rejoin the military.

~~~~

Midori stood outside his father's station, his nerves were wracked, and because of that he barely got any sleep the night before, he even questioned himself if was truly ready, but he can't let those doubts get to him now, he trained two months for this, he didn't want all his efforts to go to waste. He lifted a fist up to knock on the General's door, he hesitated for a second before he actually knocked. There was a firm "Come in." from the other side of the door, making Midori flinch for a second before opening the door.

General Shinrin was expecting it to be another one of the rookies coming in to ask him another ridiculous question, but his eyes widened when he saw it was actually his son at the door. "Midoribon?!" Midori sheepishly waved at him. "Heh, hey Pére."

A few moments of awkward silence later, Shinrin tells Midori to take a seat, and Midori does so without objection. "What are you doing here?" Shinrin asked him, his tone being more curious than the unwelcome one Midori imagined.

Midori gulped and averted eye contact. "Well, Pére," He rubbed his arm. "I would like to re-enlist."

Shinrin silently stared at him as Midori tensed up. "I thought you said you weren't certain on returning." The General finally said after what felt like minutes.

Midori took a deep breath. "I did say that," He turned and gazed into his father's eyes. "but after taking the time to think about it and clear my head," He nodded. "I did not want to give up on my dream, and I want to re-enlist, sir. Would that be possible?"

Shinrin closed his eyes, giving his son's words some thought. "Are you sure of your decision?" Midori nodded without hesitation. "Yes sir, I do."

Shinrin opens his eyes and smiles. "Alright, Captain, you are back in." Midori's eyes lit up. "Really?! Are you serious?!" He about to cry yet again, but managed to keep his composure, and stood up from the chair proudly and saluted. "Thank you so much, Pére-, I mean, General Shinrinbon, sir! I promise to work my best!"

The General chuckles. He missed his son's strong spirit. "No need to be so formal around me, mon fils. Now before I send you off..." He picks up a small box from beside his desk and places it front of Midori. "You will need what is in this box."

Midori glanced at the box, up to his father, then back to the box. He was confused, but proceeded open the box, then his eyes widened once he saw what was in the box. "M-My beret?!" He picks up the cap from the box. "You didn't give this to anyone else?!"

"Why would I?" Shinrin stated. "You may call me biased, but in all honestly, no other soldier is worthy of wearing my beret, other than you, mon fils."

Midori didn't know what to say as he was filled with so much pride and so relieved everything went much better than he imagined. He puts on the beret as his father got up from his chair. He stood proudly as the General rested a hand on his shoulder. "Glad to have you back, Captain Midoribon."

Midori nodded. "It's good to be back, General Shinrinbon!" He gazed out the window and into the blue sky. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the help of an old and dear friend."

Even if Midori couldn't physically see him, Seruian was watching from sky, smiling down upon him. "Glad I could help, my love." The angel then turned around, and flew back to the heavens, leaving a star behind for Midori to see.

#One Shot #Bomberman #BB-Daman Bakugaiden #Midoribon #Disclaimer: This story is heavily headcanon-based and takes place during the past.#It's also quite lengthy so buckle your seatbelts.

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belore-invictus · 6 years

Text

Resolute & Steel

“Welcome to the homeland. Island and home to many of the Troll Tribes, Miss Phaeith,” a kind spirited Zandalari Troll announced to the sunshine haired woman who crept out of her Quarter’s of the ship...

---

Voyage was easy. Minus the few almost wars at sea with Tirasian Sails, and even some unknown, blank sailed ships that were either neutral or scouts throughout the entire thing. Anyhow, voyage was easy for the freshly sunshine locked woman. Champagne curls tossed over her shoulder, a golden leaf circlet to push back the excess from falling over her features; allowing her clarity of vision.

These last few weeks consisted of Bella’viere slowly beginning to relearn her body. To adjust to her newfound injuries, to rework her alignment, and her chosen weapons of battle. Regardless of the issues at hand, the woman seemed pristine, prim, and proper. Disciplined with proper etiquette, the woman she was before she became a woman scorned.

Even the salty air traveling from the surface of the ocean tickled her nostrils differently, almost as if life over here had a certain degree of clarity that Quel’thalas on it’s own did not have. Of course, that was her home. That was the motherland. She would never forsake it, though she could never disregard another’s beauty.

Along her slowly progressive mending body was bulky plate. Even injured. Even feeling the pain shake her bones, or rattle her heart, the woman could not compute with the idea of ever being out of her armor. Not any longer. It was her safety place, and the closest thing to her safety place that was living, was either Drimmari or Tanice Foxfeather... Being so dressed up caused a handful of Trolls to look her way, laughing and snickering to themselves as she stepped off of the boat and out onto the dock.

“Ignore them, Miss Phaeith. They be judgin’ you for constrictin’ y’self like so.” Vol’raja explained to her, carefully carrying her abundance of chests full of armor, goods, and whatnot. “You be traveling like y’movin’ here, mon. Y’be a divided spirit, if y’do not clear that head of ya’s soon, mon.” He chuckled roughly at her, patting her shoulder. “Go North ‘n up the steps. My people await to welcome you to the island of Zandalar. I will take your chests to your new room here, eh?”

For a split second before Vol’raja walked away, the woman felt an overwhelming sense of dread. He was so inviting to her, whereas, most Trolls who stepped foot into Silvermoon, were frowned upon. Bella’viere understood the sad fashion of some of her people, though she was never the same. The Horde to her has stood as a symbol of arms, welcoming all. All that was not definitive off of the Sin’dorei, only. Tradition and being uptight was certainly also, apart of her people’s nature- and for that, she hoped to do right by the new faces she would meet today.

“Thank you, my friend. I look forward to seeing you again...” Phaeith smiled, scampering off to the steps that were so tall, she could have sworn if they were any taller, they would have ascended to the heavens themselves. The mere thought caused her to laugh, which was quickly met with a gasp as she felt a stray child pulling at her hand.

“Miss! Are you one of them heroes?!? Will you defeat the Cultists?!” He barked, pulling her off to a corner where other children of his age, not too far into their youth, created a fort within. “L-Look everyone!! I got one!” He cheesed, tusks shiny and bright with a golden ringlet wrapped around his sharp, elongated right tusk.

The other children seemed unsure of how to respond to Phaeith’s presence. All except for the three little girls of the group, who quickly fawned over the woman. Oo’d, aa’d, and laughed! Eventually, it came to a point where Phaeith was taken by the little girls, pulled into an armory shop connected to a General Good’s store nearby. The distinctive chirps of children and gossiping words traveled along the Bazaar. Rumor had it, they were giving the Imperator a makeover!

The matured woman peeked from behind the mute colored drapes, a single, nimble digit pulling the curtain back as a sly, feline smirk lined full and plump lips. Blonde hair pulled halfway, the rest to run over her back. From bulky armor to something more form fitting, with crevices that allowed her to feel almost free, and able. It almost ceased all of her issues with her old armor.

“Little ones, are you ready...?” Bella’viere teased, perking her brows at the quick quips of children who oo’d louder than before. There was something different about Zandalar. There was something that it had done to her heart, that began to shake the scorned woman within her...

Almost in sync, the girls came together to run their fingers over the crimson plated skirt with rich golden accents that embodied Phaeith. Followed by the tunic imposed by a plunge, and shoulders that were less spikier than normal for this she-elf. A few even bragged about how their parents said that they would be able warriors of their tribes one day, to be able to wear the armor of warriors like Phaeith, if they continued to work and study hard.

“M-Miss! Do you have a name?!” One of the girls inquired, gasping with her sanguine braids tossing and flouncing about everywhere.

Phaeith laughed wholly, pulling at her lower lip as she easily and carefully squatted down to meet the gazes of the young ones in front of her. Leather bands strapped around the back of her thighs and calves, a few places sturdy for plate. The designs of Zandalar were utmost questionable, yet some of the best that she has ever seen. “I have many names, little ones! It all depends on what you all wish to call me. My peers call me Imperator Bloodsteel, as do those within my banner. Some folk call me Phaeith, and family and friends call me Bella’viere. On the field, my ‘Warrior Title,’ is the Scarlet Lioness, or even the Sanguine Shield Maiden. However, I fret that my days as the Shield Maiden may be over.” She sighed, dropping ivory-gold orbs to the ground out of shame. Then, that was when it hit her! She had to meet with Vol’raja’s family!

The same girl who asked of her name was quick to respond, already thinly braiding locks of Bella’viere’s hair. The other girls accompanied her by adding an endless amount of beads and accessories. Some teal beads for their tribes, others red for the woman’s outfit; and even white to resemble her eyes. “B.. Bloodsteel?” Beady eyes peered up at Bella’viere.

Phaeith made herself at home with the girls, internally preparing a lengthy apology as to why she made another family wait on her. There was no way she could leave these girls like so, though. “Bloodsteel. I forged the name myself, to resemble my people, and... Who I believe I am deep down. When you three become warriors, hm?” She mused their braiding, all of the girls attempting to sit on her lap. “Never forget who you are. Why you fight. Never change your values, never harm your soul.” She gently touched over the spots of their hearts.

“A Warrior’s life is a tough one. The hardest is to remain who you were from the start. I allowed war, blood, and lust, to take me away from the woman I once was. As I am currently slowly returning to that person, I am aware that I have awakened my demons within me- and it is time to set myself free.” Drawing out a sharp exhale, a finger spindled a newly braided sunshine ribbon around her finger. “Your duties to life are your own. You belong to no one, but yourselves. You fight for yourself, mainly. Protect each other in your growing years, and never part. True friendship is a rarity as you grow. Keep what you have now, and grow from it. Promise me that you three will look out for one another, hm?”

Almost immediately, the three young girls nodded excitedly and hugged each other, agreeing to the pact. Before they knew it, Phaeith was breaking her circlet into three different pieces. Each piece was carefully turned into small bracelets, which were then placed onto each of their wrists. “May luck be upon you all, young warriors.”

It wasn’t long before the children were called for by the other friends of their group. Each of the girls pecked Phaeith’s cheek, giggling as they ran off to return to their friends. Phaeith, on the other hand, managed to stand on her own. Finally making her way to the family awaiting her arrival. By now, her friend from sea was already there as well!

Embarrassed and glowing a bright red, the newly dressed woman seemed shook to stand in front of such honorable people. How odd must she have looked, adorned in their traditional armor? With hair alike to their own? The crimson that danced along caramel cheeks only grew hotter, personal insults rapid firing through her mental.

“Apologies for the delay on my end. I was caught up with some of the children who play in the Bazaar!-- I... I am aware of how foolish I might look--”

Almost immediately, the elderly woman walked forth, towering over Phaeith. Thick fingers ran through her hair, and a rusty old guffaw released from the Druidess. “It is more than ideal to see others appreciate the styles and tradition of Zandalar. I know of all the children you are talking about, and those braids in your hair will need some fixing! They missed too many strands.” She shook her head at Phaeith, taking her hand as the other members of her rather large family ascended up the stairs to make way to the common seating area for delectable delights.

Already, the scents around the Imperator caused a flurry of sweet and good emotions to flicker through her skin. Taking in all of the large meats, fresh fruits, juicy coconuts to drink out of it and long tables- all of this defeated any sign of royalty she has ever witnessed in her life before. In fact, she might permanently find homage here...

“There is more spice here than all you have tasted and seen in your life, Bloodsteel!” The Druidess declared happily. “Sit, sit! You may sit beside me!” She touched the small bench closest to her personal seat at the end of the table. “The Horde wishes to use our resources, is that true, Bloodsteel?”

Food quickly arrived. Meats marinated in the finest delicacies of sauces. Some spicy, some sweet. Some red, some green. Vegetables steamed or raw, with succulent fruits to water the mouths of those at the table. It was only when the involvement of the Horde trickling off of the Druidess lips did she completely find herself aware of the conversation at hand. “We wish to fight together as one. As a whole. As a warband- a family, to sully our foes. This involves protecting, and defending your people no matter the cost.” She stated easily. The truth was, she was in the Infirmary for weeks, and almost completely unaware to all that has been going on within the Horde. Every now and then, Lormeus sent her missives to inform her of each move that the Horde has made. He even made it clear to her to continue to rest, because there was no need for an injured doe to fight on a field full of monsters.

Little did he know, she was no doe.

The Druidess popped a strip of meat into her mouth, chewing with her mouth open as she continued to question the Imperator. “You say this as if you truly believe there is no one out here who believe in otherwise. How do I know to trust your people? My people visit Silvermoon every now and then, and we receive no more looks than hate, disgust, and freight. We must open our doors, because suddenly, help is needed...?”

Phaeith mused her own chewing, brushing the corner of her lips with a napkin to continue forth with her words. “My Lady, if I may be so bold.” She sat upright, stifling a snarl. It wasn’t pointed to anyone in particular, either. “Our people have history. Our people have a history that some have lost so much to, and I am not to say that yours are wrongfully classified quite often- but there is history. Whilst I am personally not a believer in categorizing others, I also understand where everyone comes from. Though, who I am, does not speak for those of the Horde completely. I am one woman. I speak for Bloodsteel Cohort. I speak on behalf of those without a voice within Silvermoon City and Quel’thalas as a whole, dedicated with obligations as the Matriarch of House Ven’torum. I speak for those I know I may speak for. Now, the Horde is my people. The Horde is my home. I see no difference in shape, size- race, in general. We are all one. Culture is one thing, neglect in being aware of the beauty underlay betwixt us all, is only immature and childish. I do not have the complete words you search for. Nor do I have a pure, and honest answer. I am here to provide proof to you of what my people of my Cohort, and what I can do as a leader, for your people. If perhaps my people and I could influence yours enough, then perhaps we will all meet and find common grounds eventually.” Taking a breather, she sipped on some rich coconut water.

The Druidess fell silent for what seemed to long, almost providing a bullet of fear to be lodged into Phaeith’s heart. Did she say something wrong? ‘A wise leader is aware of their options,’ was that not true? Or was she a misled leader, still on the path of the broken...? Finally, the Druidess spoke up.

“Zandalar welcomes you and yours. May Bloodsteel show us a bright future, and a proper name to follow and support...” She cheered her gold and ruby stained goblet full of red wine towards the Imperator. The move followed by the line of forty at the table to stand. Women, men, and children. Those of the tribe, others who were working their way upwards in rank.

Phaeith watched as the line of Trolls stood in her wake, quick to follow. Rising onto her feet, proudly standing. In her heart, she thanked whatever star that guided her. She thanked the sun for guiding her- praying to the Light that this was only the beginning of happiness. Memories. Success. It was now her sole duty to keep her people safe, and aware. In her heart, she knew that the woman she had lost to the trauma was slowly creeping back up. Her impatient, blood lusting warrior soon to be tempered by a levelheaded woman who believed in using her hands to mend wounds. To help the sick, to pay for the poor. To speak for the voiceless, brave the dead, and protect her people. This was her duty now, and with those at the table; she proudly lifted her chin.

Together, the Tribe and Bloodsteel saluted, finding union in this evenings dinner.

Hours and hours went by, ending with the Druidess giving Phaeith her first mission. To find Blood Cultists, and to bring a specific man’s head back to her. He had a distinctive scar across his features, allowing him to easily be caught between the crowd of many. Agreeing to it, they parted ways- not after the Druidess handed her a polearm. “You will fight like a Zandalari Warrior, when you step foot onto my island, Bloodsteel.” She tapped Phaeith’s heart, and the Imperator nodded with furrowed brows.

Watching the Druidess leave, the woman took the polearm in tow, confused. What had she done to have received such a warm welcome, and such a gift? Eventually parting completely herself, Phaeith made her way towards her room. Eyes cast down as she closed the heavy door behind her.

“The rumors are true,” Dra’zar’s voice chimed in from the large room she stood within. When did he- how did he- questioning it by now, was only silly.

Bloodsteel’s gaze rose aloft to Dra’zar, blinking at him. Rumors? What ones, which?

The taller, skyscraper of a man closed in on the female. He pinned her between his chest and the door, the scent of wine drenched his form. Snow white hair flowed over his shoulders, glistening beneath the light created by fire lamps within her room. His musk heavy to her nostrils. Running a digit along her jaw, he locked her attention onto his own. As dominating as his presence was, a predator; there was something soft and weary to his features. His other hand splayed flat against the door, head dipped down. “You are back on your feet. You have come for the fight, my Heart.” He whispered against her ear, brushing her chin with his calloused thumb.

Closing her eyes, finding comfort in his touch. The darkness behind her lids were nothing, when he was her Light. When his company was all that she needed to find ease. Aware of his showcase of emotions, she brought her own hand to rest on the wrist around the hand against her face. “If you believed for a second that you would stand alone on the field, you are gravely mistaken, my Soul.” Their foreheads knocked, noses brushing as their lips hovered.

At the same time, their eyelids slowly fluttered open, watching each other carefully. It would have been the world’s biggest lie, the deadliest sin, of anyone claimed that these two were not a match made in the heavens. If these two were not two halves of a whole; if these two were not meant to love and care for one another. If they were not meant to co-exist. There was so much to them both, and perhaps, in this moment they finally began to feel it. They finally began to realize what was in the palm of their hands.

Two tortured souls, tempering one another. Challenging, yet rooting for one another. Responsive to their behaviors. One so different than the other. Yet, their muted colors found a grey lining; meeting each other half way. Their grey a bright yellow for their Light. An immaculate love, incomparable, incomprehensible. A love forged for eternities... As their lips hovered, the two slowly became riddled in their ivory fire, Phaeith’s adorned to a more golden hue than Drimmari’s predatory one. They were too close, but this was so right. Tonight was the night where Phaeith would fall for Drim, over, and over again. Completely, and wholly. In this moment, she knew that even her soul swore to this man. Wordless, dauntless, and complete. She was finally, complete. Did he feel the same way...? She could only imagine as his lips hovered over her own, brushing. Teasing her to chase for a kiss- perhaps...

(( @drimmari , @saronite-dawnsteel , @feathersandfoxtails , @lormeusnamaraen , @mazarot , @thecrimsonlion , @empyrealhealer , @themacabrepadre , @tumbleintonothing , @arcanestarlight , @disapearingact , @ofbloodandmarrow ))

#BFA #Storyline #Bloodsteel & Draz'ar #The Knight-Lord & The Imperator

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fictorium · 6 years

Note

“Does he know about the baby” for SuperCat pls? :D

Cat may not fight in the field like Alex, or wield a weapon as readily as Maggie, but when National City is under attack, she always returns to the battle at Kara’s side. Fighting through the media, through their message, Cat covers the hearts and minds side of things so well that Kara doesn’t know how they’ll ever manage it without her.

Giving up Mon-El is easier, a second time. It helps that he lies about his marriage being over, just to bed her, just to get his way one more time. Kara doesn’t have the energy to be disgusted by him all over again, simply gives no argument when Imra suggests their leaving in order to draw the latest foe along with them to a black hole.

It’s nice that Cat stays, three weeks after the rebuilding of downtown begins and she’s back in her office at CatCo, teaching Lena the ropes properly. Kara might be miserable on one front, but at work she’s never been happier. Her best friend, her mentor, and James all there to meet with and brainstorm with most days. It makes being a reporter fun again, something Kara throws herself into with her old gusto.

So it’s hardly unusual when Cat invites her to lunch. Kara hopes it isn’t sushi, beacuse she’s been feeling a little more human since the excess of kryptonite in those last attacks. Fish makes her feel something close to nausea at the best of times, only now it feels like she might follow through.

“This is nice,” Kara says after they order steaks, handing back their menus. “Is it a special occasion, or…?”

“Does he know?” Cat comes straight to her point. Not that she’s inclined to clue Kara in just yet. “The manchild you sent away, did he know and still agree to it?”

“Know he can’t come back?” Kara asks. “Yeah, he did last time too. Maybe he thinks never say never, but everyone seemed pretty sure it’s permanent this time.”

“Not about that.” Cat sips at her too-early martini, a post-DC change that Kara knows better than to comment on. She flutters her fingers toward Kara’s body, as though complaining about her simple gray shift dress. “Does he know about the baby?”

Kara grips the marble table top hard enough to leave finger impressions. “The what?”

“Come on,” Cat says, tutting in disapproval. “Haven’t we learned our lesson about playing dumb around me, Supergirl?”

“I can’t… I…” The blood tests that Alex had been confused by. Kara had deliberately kept her distracted, not wanting to push too hard on that. She has felt different, downright strange at times. But no. It’s impossible. Cat Grant is brlliant, yes, and downright insightful when she chooses to be. That doesn’t mean she can predict a pregnancy before the woman allegedly carrying a child.

“Please. I’m basically a savant with this stuff. Even with aliens, apparently.”

Kara pinches the bridge of her nose. This is not happening. “I think you’re wrong, Ms Grant. Could we just have lunch?”

“If that’s what you prefer.”

They drop the subject, but Kara already knows she’ll be flying straight to the DEO as soon as Cat settles the check.

***

It takes a week after the results are confirmed to seek out Cat. It’s easy to cross paths again these days, but Kara’s gotten very good at avoiding people she doesn’t want to face.

“Was this what it felt like?” She asks, her voice breaking on the question. Cat glances up from her tablet screen, peering over her reading glasses. “With Adam?”

“In what sense?”

“Knowing you should be happy, that it’s nothing short of a miracle... and somehow it’s the worst thing that could have happened?”

“You’re saying I was right?” Cat pulls her glasses off at that. She leans back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap. Her blazer is discarded on the couch, and the gauzy black blouse she’s wearing is practically see-through. There’s a camisole underneath, of course, but it draws Kara’s attention all the same.

“I guess you’re used to that, especially when it comes to me.”

“How... the alien plus alien combination?”

“Guess so. Rao, you know what I can’t stop thinking?”

“What?”

“How horrified my parents would be. He... he’s from a place they didn’t think very highly of.”

“Seems they were excellent judges of character.”

“No, I learned... yeah, maybe you’re right about that, too. People don’t change. They just fool you into thinking it long enough to get what they want.”

Kara comes the rest of the way into the office, her favorite place in National City after her apartment and the really great bakery on Johnson St.

“A bit cynical for Supergirl,” Cat says, getting up to come and join Kara on one of the cream-colored sofas. When she reaches for Kara’s hand, it makes her heart skip several beats. “You’re not alone, Kara.”

“I feel it.”

Alex has been trying, but Kara has sworn her sister to secrecy. It’s been a dark and heavy silence between them for days now. That probably can’t continue, not when Alex’s working theory is that gestation will be much shorter for someone of Kara’s powers.

“You’ll have your job here, as long as you need it. Whether I’m in charge on the daily or not. Maternity leave is generous here, you nagged me about that often enough your first year.”

“I did.” Kara remembers with a smile, she won the argument by pointing out the extra two weeks Lois had secured for Daily Planet employees on top of their allowance.

“I’m assuming that is...”

Kara nods her head. She doesn’t feel much like explaining that no one would know how to give her an alternative option that way. Adoption isn’t on the table either, not with so many variables unknown.

Cat’s still holding her hand, and instead of letting go, she reaches for Kara’s other one, bringing them together over their knees, which are now touching.

“And if you don’t find it intrusive, well, I have been there before. Twice. I’m almost as much of an expert in unexpected motherhood as I am in quickly-dissolving marriages. I could... help. Guide you, advise you. If your apartment is the hobbit hole I’ve always pictured, you could come and stay with me...”

“Wait, what?” Kara can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Cat Grant, who has better security than Buckingham Palace, is inviting a poor, pregnant alien into her home?”

“Is that so strange?”

“Cat, when I brought you documents at home, you wouldn’t let me out of the elevator. Now I can just live there? What would make you offer that?”

“Don’t make me say it, please. It’s bad enough I’m a foolish old woman without having it on the record.”

Kara squeezes Cat’s hands gently, moderating her strength down to almost nothing. Her breath is caught in her throat at the searing look Cat gives her, another hint at what Kara doesn’t dare believe.

“Say what?”

“That I care for you, Kara. That the minute I thought you were in trouble, I wanted to give you everything, just to make it better.” Cat pulls away then, looking out at the sky through the balcony windows. “That in another world, or timeline, you wouldn’t be making babies with some deadbeat frat boy, you’d be making a family with me and Carter.”

“Cat-”

“Told you it was foolish. There, does that cheer you up? Having me embarrass myself? I did say I’d give anything.”

Kara answers her by slipping to her knees on the floor, placing herself in front of Cat. Tenderly, she reaches out to cup Cat’s face, drawing her carefully into a kiss with plenty of opportunity to stop it if Kara is misinterpreting. From the way their lips meet, it seems they both understand perfectly.

“So all I had to do to get you to admit you’re crushing on me, as much as I have been on you, was get knocked up?” Kara asks, rambling into the breathless silence when the kiss ends.

“Apparently.” Cat’s mouth twists as she tries to hide her smile. She’s never been especially good at that, not around Kara. “This doesn’t tie you to anything. I just-”

Kara kisses her again. They’re not talking themselves out of this. For the first time in weeks, she feels sane again, in control of both her feelings and her fate. Cat has always been her stabilizing influence, but now they both see it should be so much more.

When her stomach does a happy little flip, Kara isn’t sure if it’s happiness or the baby, but she likes to think it could be both.

#Anonymous #supercat #SORRY ABOUT THE MAN HELL #cat grant #kara danvers #pregnancy cw #my own march madness #in april

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nigeltoby · 3 years

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blodbranddod · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @oaths-sworn-in-blood and @bootyofdarkness thank you :)))

Gender: female

Birthday: 14th July

Last movie seen: lotr: the 2 towers

What do you post/reblog: bodies, selfies, music, movies..

Last thing you googled: Mallorca

Favourite blog: I’ll mention some: @my-name-is-melenia @xanaxaddict @endless-erebus @agallochia @naked-yogi

Dream Job: cinema critic. I have too many dream jobs

Dream trip: Santorini, Sweden, China, Iceland and pretty much all over the world

What would be your first entry in a new diary: I don’t have a diary

Top 3 things you love about yourself: My music taste, my uniqueness, my patience

3 things you wish you knew how to do: how to have a higher self- esteem, how to drive & cook, how to get better at playing the guitar

Something you wish you had discovered/invented first: Idk. there are many useful things but I don’t really care about discovering them

3 qualities you like in a person: honesty, passion, patience

3 qualities you dislike in a person: know-it-all, rude, cheaters

Favourite planet: Uranus

A resolution you make every year: haha

Something you’re better at than most people: Well I don’t know, someone else has to answer that, but I know when it is the ‘’right’’ time to speak

Something you’re worse at than most people: believing in myself

Favourite thing about tumblr: feeling better about some of my treats, learning stuff, feeling even gayer..

Least favourite thing about tumblr: offensive anon asks (I haven’t received any but it’s not ok)..

Weapon of choice: sword/ axe

Something not many people know about you: I like Korean so when I was on vacations I learnt the alphabet and some words. I stopped but I will start again at some point

Favourite means of transport: car. walking is the best tho

Favourite story: Harry Potter’s, Green card..

Chicken or egg: Chicken

Something that always makes you laugh: weird humor

I’ll tag: @xanaxaddict @my-name-is-melenia @nichtiko @spac-e-dust @gambit-goat @balalaika-anthem @tarinya-quinn @mona-rizla @mon-exquisite-douleur @caledonia19 @oandlighet @ksini-poli @aneparkeia

#personal

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fandom-imagines-stories · 7 years

Text

She Was My Hope Chapter Four

Cassian Andor x OC

Series Masterlist

Words: 2226

Summary: Cassian and Reina begin to realize the connection between them. The two are given a mission to visit one of Cassian’s old friends.

Note: The sexual tension is killing me! I hope you all are enjoying this story as much as I am. I just went to go see The Last Jedi and I am utterly speechless. Let me know all of your thoughts. I really appreciate all of the feedback. Also, I recently join Commaful, so I'll be exploring over there as well. My name is Trials of Hope. See you guys next chapter.

Reina jolted awake, the most recent nightmare fading from her mind. They had been happening all night, each one worse than the last. But each time, Cassian was by her side, ready to chase all of the monsters of her memory away. He had moved her to her bed and resided in a chair across from her, usually waiting for her to stir or cry out.

But now, his head rested against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes closed. Reina couldn't help but smile. In all their time together, she had never seen him so… relaxed. His dark hair stuck out in every direction and his tan skin reflected the light from the lamp on her desk.

His sleeping form tensed, his face contorted with fear and remorse. His feet shifted on the floor, kicking and fighting against an invisible force.

Cassian's eyes shot open, his chest heaving with rapid breaths. His hand reached for his blaster, hovering over its holster until he realized where he was. Reina laid in silence as his eyes locked with hers.

"You never said you had them too." She said her voice barely above a whisper. He shifted, leaning back against the wall, this time alert and stiff.

"We all have demons from the dark that we must face." Was all he said.

The morning following, Cassian found himself more observant of every person who passed by. His fists clenched every time a man's gaze traveled toward Reina and his pulse quickened whenever she was near. Reina made a point of avoiding his eyes, often staring off into the distance.

"Reina…" Cassian whispered. Her expression remained blank and unresponsive. He spoke louder, but quiet enough to not frighten her. "Reina."

"I'm fine." She blurted, coming out of her trance. She watched Cassian's brows furrow.

"I- I was just going to ask if you wanted a rag." He stammered. She looked down at her hands, slick with oil and arms caked with rust.

"Oh… yes. Thank you." He grabbed a towel from the counter and handed it to her. Their fingers brushed against each other and their eyes met. The gold flecks in Reina's eye shimmered with the light of a dozen suns. The dark depths of Cassian's chocolate eyes filled Reina with something she never thought she would feel again. Hope.

The rag fell to the floor and was quickly forgotten. Cassian's fingers intertwined with Reina's. He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She pulled their hands apart and quickly picked the rag up from the ground. Cassian's face fell, but only for a moment.

"How long have you been in the rebellion?" She asked, hoping to fill the silence as she cleaned the oil off of her skin.

"Since I was six." He answered quietly. He shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"My father never spoke much of the Rebellion." Reina mused. "But I knew he believed in it. He always told me stories of how everything used to be. The time of the Jedi…" Something stirred inside her. It was a feeling she felt every time she tried to recall the time before the Empire.

There was a sharp, quiet sound, like metal shifting on metal. Reina didn't notice, but Cassian stared curiously at the rectangular box Reina had insisted on bringing from Tatooine. For a moment, he could have sworn it had moved closer. Her daze was disrupted by a woman walking into the room, dressed in pristine white garments.

"Captain Andor," Mon Mothma started. "I was hoping to catch you in here. Good afternoon, Miss Tolderyn."

"Perhaps we should speak in the hall." Cassian suggested, brushing off his hands on his loose T-shirt.

"Actually, I'm glad to have found you both. This is a matter for the both of you." Her wise yet intense gaze made Reina shift nervously on her feet. Cassian listened intently as she explained the new mission. He was to meet with an old adversary of his and negotiate her offer of supplies for the Rebellion. Reina was requested to come along as the mechanic on board.

"I think that Miss Tolderyn has proven her abilities and since it is a simple trip, I believe now would be a good time to test her out on the field." Mon Mothma smiled warmly at Reina, casting away her doubt. "I expect you to be prepared first thing tomorrow." With a final nod, she left and Reina immediately started bustling around the room.

"I'm not even the slightest bit prepared!" She exclaimed. "What if something happens and I don't know what to do? Or what if I make it worse!" Cassian chuckled.

"Everything will be fine, Reina." He stepped in front of her to keep her from pacing. "It's a simple mission and the journey will only be a week or two at the most." She rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

"I haven't even left the base since you brought me here. And now we're to go galavanting off to a different planet? I just… I don't know if I can do this." She looked down at the floor. "I always thought that when I had escaped the Besais… I would go home."

His face fell. He had almost forgotten about his plan to return her to her home planet.

"Right… of course." He sighed, but she smirked.

"But I do like it here. I feel like a part of something… important." She took a deep breath. "I'll go with you. I want to help." She brushed past him and their eyes met once again. This time, Cassian was the first to look away, heart pounding and mind reeling.

"Careful Captain," Reina warned. "You almost looked like you'd miss me." He smiled and shook his head, not willing to believe the impossible notion that he could be falling for her.

Once the ship was packed with enough supplies, the crew prepared for departure. Reina made a few last check-ups on the ship to make sure that it was in good condition. Cassian found himself following her, simply walking by her side as she worked. Two men strayed away from them, discussing quietly amongst themselves.

"She's ready." Reina said, slapping the ship's metal side. K2 shook his head.

"Well, it is about time." He quipped.

"Reina was simply being thorough." Cassian hissed. REain's breath hitched. As he continued to scold the rude droid, she noticed the way his r's slightly rolled every time he said her name. She knew he had an accent, but she has never found it so intriguing before. For a moment she almost found it… attractive.

She quickly emptied her mind of the thought and followed Cassian onto the ship, unaware of the men watching her with grim faces and wicked looks in their eyes.

Cassian was to be the negotiator when they reached their destination, as well as the pilot. Reina, of course, was the engineer. The two others were considered backup in case the mission somehow went awry. K2 has just insisted on coming to make sure Cassian didn't get himself in any more trouble.

Reina curled up in the copilot seat, reminded of the last time she has flown. It was the very journey that the Besais had attacked. She could almost feel her father's hands guiding hers along the controls. The blaster echoing through the ship rung through her memory, causing her to wince.

Cassian reached out to comfort her, but thought better of it. Reina shook the memories away and pictured instead the glistening streams of Naboo and the forests outside the rebel base. The images always brought her peace.

She hadn't expected, however, Cassian's rare smile to emerge from her thoughts, nor his soothing voice softly coaxing her to sleep. Her eyes found his and hastily broke away.

"Do you know how to fly?" He wondered, breaking the silence between them.

"A little." She shrugged. "It has been a very long time." He leaned back.

"Why don't you give it a try?" He motioned to the ship's controls.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on, I'm sure you'll be fine." Cassian begged.

"Doubtful." K2 noted from behind. Cassian glared.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt anything." Reina submitted. In a few quick motions, she had turned off autopilot and was gracefully guiding them through the stars. Everything her father had taught her felt fresh in her mind.

"You're a natural." Cassian laughed, his face bright with the smile that had been becoming more and more frequent.

Their destination grew increasingly closer until Cassian was able to land. The planet was lush with tropical forests and large, expanding seas with long bridges connecting the villages to the marketplace.

"Emre has arranged us a place to stay." Cassian announced. "I will be discussing with her in the morning, but for now I suggest we get something to eat and get some rest." He dismissed the men and turned to Reina. "We are to have dinner with Emre. She wants to meet you."

"Me?" Reina's brows furrowed. "What would she want to meet me? I'm just the mechanic." Cassian shrugged.

"I'm more curious how she knew you were coming." He started toward a large building, but turned back. "And Reina- you're not just a mechanic." He held up his jacket to protect the two of them from the rain and rushed across one of the many bridges into a stone building.

Inside was warm and decorated with red drapes and gold floors. It was luxury like Reina had never seen, even on Naboo. A tile mosaic in the entry depicted great temples and shining cities, all guarded by cloaked knights with weapons of light. The Jedi.

"Cassian Andor, I should slap you for making a lady wait so long." An older woman strut down the hallway with welcoming arms. Despite her age, she radiated beauty. She placed her hand on Cassian's cheek. "But it would be a shame to strike that pretty face of yours." She laughed and wrapped him in a merry embrace."

"It's good to see you Emre." Cassian responded with a deep laugh.

Emre had known him since he was a boy, just before his father joined the rebellion. She had been his mother's teacher when she was young. After his mother died, Emre moved and he and his father chose to fight against those responsible for his mother's death: the Empire.

Emre broke away from him and turned to Reina, engulfing her in a sudden hug. Reina tensed awkwardly and glared at Cassian, who snickered at her discomfort.

"I am ecstatic to finally meet you, Reina Tolderyn." Emre greeted brightly.

"How did you-" Reina stammered, but Emre took her and Cassian by the hand and dragged them down the hall into an extravagant dining room.

"Emre, we both know this isn't a social event." Cassian sighed grimly.

"Always so serious." The older woman scolded. "There will be no talk of business tonight. Just old friends-" she winked at Reina, "and new ones."

Dinner was a banquet of tender meats and bubbling wines. It was more food than Reina had ever eaten and by the time it was done, she was almost too full to move. Emre was an absolute delight, telling stories of her travels, and, to Cassian's dismay, some about his childhood.

"There was this one time I recall," she began, "when Cassian was no more than four years old. He insisted on carrying around this little toy blaster and jumping out to frighten people- he was quite the little rascal." She smirked and Cassian stared down at his plate, shaking his head. Reina could still see the small, amused turn of his lip. "Anyway, one time, he jumped out in front of this little girl, who promptly punched him right in the nose. The poor girl couldn't stop crying."

"Poor girl?" Cassian exclaimed. "I was the one with a broken nose!"

"A broken nose that you very much deserved." Emre chuckled. It was Reina's turn to snicker and smugly took a bite of her bread.

They were settled into lavish rooms fit for royalty. Cassian's was directly across the hall from Reina's and the two walked side by side, laughing and grinning the whole way.

"I am so glad I came here." Reina blurted, having had a few too many glasses of the fizzing drink Emre teasingly called 'Liquid Luck'. Cassian nodded and helped her into her room. Reina dived into her large bed, surrounding herself with blankets and pillows and Cassian said a brief goodnight before shutting the door behind him, settling into his own room.

"I do not trust those two men General Draven sent with us." K2 told a half-asleep Cassian. "I find that there is an 80% chance that they have a very different objective."

"They're just back up, K." Cassian groaned.

"That doesn't mean I have to like them." K went out into the hallway. In the absence of the blabbing droid, Cassian was finally able to fall asleep.

While the rebel captain slept peacefully, Reina met a rude awakening to a blaster in her side.

And as Reina was dragged down the hall, K2 turned the corner just in time to watch the men force her out of the building. He sighed.

"I have a very bad feeling about this."

#star wars #cassian andor #reina and cassian #Jenna Coleman #diego luna #she was my hope

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anghraine · 7 years

Text

“waking up in a minefield” - fic (1/2)

Yeah, I’m still making my way through the Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week prompts. This one is for “Undercover,” and ... it grew, so I split it into halves because I wanted to post something today and it’s 11 PM here.

fandom: Star Wars

verse: script AU (follows from part of the past, but now you’re the future and threshold of a dream)

characters: Jyn Erso, Mon Mothma, Cassian Andor(ish); Jyn/Cassian

length: 2760

stuff that happens: Mothma has a mission for Cassian, impeded by the minor problem of his unconsciousness and the major problem of Jyn.

For the last time, Jyn hoped, Cassian floated in a bacta tank. And for the first time, he didn’t have a brace. At least, they said so. She’d averted her eyes after one glance, instead studying the datapad she’d filched with an interest it did not often command.

Maybe it was prudish, but she felt odd about ogling his naked body when he didn’t know about it and hadn’t given permission. Not that he’d been in a condition to give permission for anything, between the disconnected questions and dazed, black-eyed stare. Cassian with the brakes off was funny as much as anything else—at least, until he asked anxiously about her leaving—but he couldn’t answer for any of it. And it wasn’t like they’d talked about bacta tank etiquette, anyway.

Jyn didn’t know exactly what they were right now, or would be. But she did know that if she ever ended up in a situation with Cassian naked, he sure as hell was going to be awake for it.

As she entertained herself with trying to crack the paranoid layers of encryption on Cassian’s datapad, Jyn caught near-silent footsteps behind her. Pretending not to notice, she held herself ready for anything.

“Miss Erso,” said Mon Mothma.

Jyn started.

She’d met with Senator Mothma twice since their return, but never expected to find her here. Though certainly a good sight more reasonable and capable than the other politicians, Mothma didn’t seem to soil herself much with the grimmer side of her war.

“How is Captain Andor?” she said, looking straight at the tank.

A sense of boundaries clearly did not afflict her. Typical. Jyn would have liked to make some brusque, dismissive reply that left her contempt clear. But, she reminded herself, there was no point in alienating the leader of the Rebellion. She seemed accommodating enough, prepared to make the easier compromises, and some vague instinct suggested that they might need allies in High Command at some point.

She said, “Better. They’re certain he’ll walk.”

“Walk,” repeated the senator. “More than that, I hope.”

Jyn couldn’t repress a cool glance at her. “So do we all.” For different reasons, undoubtedly. She still had yet to meet anyone who used his given name. Frankly, Jyn felt surprised that Mothma would go this far out of her way to enquire after a spy.

That moderated her antipathy somewhat. Trying to sound less begrudging than she felt, Jyn said,

“They ran some tests, and everything seems to be going right with the cybernetics. Odds are that he’ll be fine.”

“As good as new?” Mothma said doubtfully, peering at the tank. He must still look bad.

“They didn’t say that,” replied Jyn.

With no hint of impatience, Mothma asked, “What did they say?”

Jyn had no idea why she didn’t just ask the damn doctors themselves. Forcing herself to courtesy, she said, “They think he’ll probably walk normally, if everything continues to go well, and if he builds the muscle back up. Oh, and if the cybernetics don’t take damage, or the rest of his nerves, and there might be effects from weather or exhaustion or …” She shrugged. “I don’t think anyone can crunch up their spine and come back exactly the same. But functional, sure.”

Though Jyn half-expected her to lose interest in a weakened tool—rather hoped for it—Mothma just gave a neutral hm.

Jyn waited her out. Nobody would call her patient, but she didn’t like talking to people. She could keep her mouth shut indefinitely.

“What of your injuries, Miss Erso?”

“They’re fine.” Again, she reminded herself that it might be worthwhile to play nice. For awhile. “Just a sprain and a fracture. Bacta patches completely healed them. It’s Cassian who …” Jyn felt a flutter in her throat, and stopped before it could grow into a full-fledged crack. “I had the plans, so Captain Andor covered me. He believed in the mission, and he was ready to do anything. We both were.”

You better not be thinking about punishing him for it. Jyn couldn’t bring herself to say it; her hands already curled into fists at the thought. From childhood, she’d had a protective streak a parsec wide, at least when she had people to protect. A month ago, she would have sworn it gone, but … well, that was a month ago.

If there’d been any lingering doubt, it vanished the moment that she turned back to Cassian at the top of the Citadel. When she really looked at him, rushed over to him, she saw the truth: he hadn’t been restored to her by some miracle, but merely by his determination to carry on despite a broken, bleeding body. Cassian, always so effortlessly accurate, could barely hold his blaster up—could barely hold himself up.

Raw fury had flashed in her like a supernova. She swerved towards Krennic’s body, no longer caring that he was unconscious, that she didn’t have a blaster, nothing except that she was going to tear his fucking arms off. Only Cassian’s weak grasp stopped her, his murmurs against her skin, the reminder that they had to get out.

It was like being a girl again, enraged over Saw’s latest injury, over the wounds and disappearances of the others, over every stormtrooper she saw, flinging her back to the moment when her mother’s body crumpled, when her father…

Late at night, she’d console herself with the thought of finding Galen, destroying anyone and anything that kept them apart, that hurt him, making them all pay. But those had been a child’s fantasies. With Cassian, she rushed straight to murder.

Not that she had any idea of murdering Mothma, or even Draven, unless—no, she didn’t. But she was perfectly happy to fight them. She’d seen enough to know that Cassian would grind himself into dust at their word.

“Evidently,” said Mothma, and Jyn had spiraled so far into her thoughts that she had to strain to recall what she’d even said. Right, the mission, Cassian taking the brunt of the damage because she had the plans. And Mothma was still talking. “That sounds like Captain Andor.”

Jyn gave up. “Are you this interested in all your spies, or is it just Cassian?”

“Captain Andor is one of the most effective agents in the Rebellion,” Mothma answered. Or rather, didn’t answer.

But that was enough. In a mad dash of association, it all came together. Draven this morning, and Mothma now—Mothma not just concerned about Cassian, but about Cassian returning to his old capabilities—Draven startled out of composure and rushing off—and Cassian with his unbending faith, often obedient, always resourceful and decisive and resolute—

“Something’s happened,” Jyn said. She swerved around to face Mothma directly, repressing the urge to raise a hand against her peripheral vision. Instead, she focused all her attention on the senator. “You need Cassian for something. What is it?”

Already?

Mothma clearly had a skill for wrapping words around nothing. “Need, no. Plainly, the captain is not yet capable of returning to service. He is too valuable for high risk with little chance of success, in any case. Of course, the risk is all the higher now.” Her blue eyes settled on Jyn, as unnervingly tranquil as ever. “Nothing could be salvaged of K-2SO?”

Jyn’s throat tightened. Kay would be delighted, he’d said, with a sharp-edged laugh that sent a chill of sympathy down her own spine. It seemed utterly unlike him, and yet the only way he would laugh. She suspected hers might be the same, if she had enough drugs in her blood to extract it, to unearth her tangled feelings about Saw or her parents. Instead, Jyn forced herself to lightness, as she’d forced herself to a reassuring smile in the Citadel. One step closer to droid superiority.

Not empty words, though. She had no doubts but that Kay would have been thrilled.

“Nothing,” said Jyn. “He protected us until stormtroopers blasted him to smithereens, and we had to leave his”—corpse was all she could think of—“remains behind to reach the plans in time.”

Kay and Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze. Please, Papa, let this be worth it.

Mothma shook her head. “So Andor is doubly vulnerable now. Definitely a needless risk, then.”

Did all the Alliance command talk in circles? No wonder they got nothing done.

“Doubly vulnerable?”

The senator’s brows rose. “Certainly, with permanent damage and no droid watching his back. We can only hope—well, please extend my best wishes to him.” With her usual grace, she pivoted to leave.

“He has me,” Jyn said sharply. She didn’t know if this was a deliberate trap or not, and she didn’t care.

As ever, Mothma gave nothing away. She paused, then turned back around with all her usual serenity.

“You made a formidable team,” she allowed. “Clearly, you work well together.”

Jyn didn’t need to hear a however to catch it. “But?”

“Few intelligence operations are as … hectic as this one,” said Mothma, no condemnation in her clear gaze. “Intelligence agents do our most thankless and dangerous work, but that work takes patience and caution. In many cases, they have no orders to guide them beyond the objective, no support in the field. They often spend months undercover.”

Jyn had lived for years under false identities. She knew plenty about living undercover, even if she’d been directionless and rash with no end but survival. And she certainly didn’t mind depending on herself, without some general dictating her every choice. She wouldn’t be able to stand anything else.

Before she could put the words together, Mothma went on,

“You appear to be a fine fighter, and plainly have strong leadership skills. Thanks to your actions on Scarif, you’re a hero to the Alliance, an inspiration to our troops. You precipitated our first victory. We certainly could use you—”

“I’m not a soldier,” Jyn told her, voice flat. “Not any more.”

“You could be again,” said Mothma. “Not a foot soldier, mind you. A leader.”

She could all but hear the Jyn of the past shouting no! Not that she needed her.

“You’ve seen my record,” Jyn said. “I’m happy to brawl when I need to, but I’m a thief and a slicer. My entire life has been covert.”

Mothma paused to consider that, or perhaps Jyn herself. Either way, it allowed her time to breathe and think, to translate blurry determination into words. Oddly reminded of facing Krennic, she lifted her chin, eyes steady on Mothma’s.

“I’m not here to be a symbol for the Alliance,” Jyn declared. She could feel something within her settle into unshakable certainty, sinking into her blood and bones. Was this how Cassian felt all the time? “I’m not here for the Alliance at all. I’m here to make problems for the Empire.”

“You can do that with us,” said Mothma. She wasn’t listening.

Jyn abandoned the last scraps of tact.

“I don’t know you,” she snapped. “Any of you. All I know is that none of you trusted me, or your own strength, when it was needed. None of you were willing to act when the time for action came. The only Rebels who had my back are dead.” She jerked her head in the direction on the tank. “Except him.”

Mothma’s calm gave way to … well, a different calm. More reflective, maybe. Slowly, she said,

“Captain Andor is the only person in the Alliance you trust enough to support, then?”

The only person in the galaxy.

“Trust goes both ways,” said Jyn.

The last time she’d said that, it had been pure insolence, just daring Cassian to make something of the blaster she stole from him. She’d felt a nice glow of satisfaction at fulfilling the suspicions of a disdainful, skeptical spy who treated her as the untrustworthy one, yet couldn’t afford to alienate her. Petty, perhaps—definitely—but Jyn had never pretended not to be. Now, though, it was nothing more or less than the truth.

Well, maybe a little petty.

Rather to her disappointment, Mothma betrayed none of the frustration that Cassian had. She just made one of her indistinct thoughtful sounds.

Jyn sighed. “Look, I want to fight the Empire. I know the Rebellion is the only thing with a chance of taking it on. I’m more than ready to support the one Rebel I know and trust, to the death if necessary.” Her teeth clenched, another but nearly hanging in the air. “But your revolution has taken everything I ever had. I’m not going to be a symbol. I’m not going to be chewed up and spat out again.”

“Hm,” said Mothma.

Maybe she didn’t know what to say. Jyn supposed that few people, would be-heroes or not, presumed to dictate terms to the leader of the Alliance. This might be remarkably tolerant by Mothma standards. Why? And it still seemed odd that she’d come all this way in person over a spy, however valuable, however much she may have hoped to put him in the field sooner rather than later. Jyn’s conviction that something had gone wrong only deepened.

“Senator,” she said, enunciating each syllable with precise clarity, “what happened?”

Tolerant of Jyn, concerned for Cassian … no. No, no—

“The plans,” she breathed. She’d been run ragged between debriefings and overseeing Cassian and more interrogations, but nobody so much as hinted that something might have gone wrong with the transmission. “Where are they? Did they get here?”

For once, Mothma visibly tensed, her lips pressing together. “Yes. About six hours ago.”

“Hours!” They’d been here for days. While she was squabbling with nurses and droids between Cassian’s surgeries, demanding explanations from the doctor, answering questions, the plans had been—where?

“They were received by an agent of ours,” said Mothma. “Leia Organa. She managed to dispose of the plans before being captured by the Empire, but recovered them and escaped. We’re completing our analysis now.”

Jyn remembered Draven’s abrupt departure this morning, his startled Leia? Now?

“And?” she demanded.

“The Death Star was tracking her,” Mothma said flatly. “It will reach us within the day. We must hope that your father’s sabotage suffices.”

Jyn’s mouth dried. “Are w—you evacuating?”

“As much nonessential personnel as possible,” said Mothma. “Do you wish to be included?”

No, she thought instantly. She’d barely escaped her father’s monstrosity once, and had no desire to ever see it again. But it was, in a way, his legacy. She couldn’t leave the fight now, even if she wanted to, even though she couldn’t do much of anything at this point.

She couldn’t leave Cassian, either. Until this month, Jyn had been abandoned by everyone she’d ever cared about. Until Cassian, who risked his life and his mission to come back for her, again and again and again. Privately, she wondered if he knew what that meant—knew that she’d never desert him as others had done her. Had there been no shuttle, with Cassian dead weight, she wouldn’t have so much as considered escape. She would have stayed with him to the end.

Jyn remembered his immediate assent to listing her as next of kin, their hands nervously tangled together, and thought that if he didn’t know, he hoped anyway.

“I told you,” she said, irritable. “I’m staying with Captain Andor.” They could try to restrict the evacuation to the wounded, but she didn’t care. She’d find a way.

Mothma made another of her meaningless I’m listening noises. Jyn really didn’t think she was, but persisted. She wanted an explanation, and she was going to get it.

“You don’t want him for the battle,” she said, without a trace of doubt. “Even you lot couldn’t imagine he’s fit for flying a starfighter. It’d be a waste, anyway.” Cassian was a good pilot, as far as she could tell, but he was a better shot, a better spy, a better commander. Nobody with two brain cells to rub together with squander him on aerial battle.

Anyway, whatever they wanted him to do, Mothma had spoken of it entirely in his capacity as a spy. A spy with a security droid protecting him, at that.

Until that moment, Mothma had still seemed poised to leave. Now, something about her settled, hands linking behind her back.

“Should we prevail,” she said slowly, “we have …”

“Yes?” Not for the first time, Jyn wished Cassian would just wake up and take over the talking nonsense.

Melancholy settled over the senator like a cloak. Her jaw tightened, and now Jyn could see the heaviness in her eyes, the deeper lines about her set mouth. What the hell had happened?

“We have,” said Mothma, “a recruitment opportunity.”

#jyn erso #mon mothma #otp: welcome home #anghraine's fic #script au #star wars #cassian andor #lalalala #i'm so glad they lived to ... uh. see more terrible things happen #THEY WOULD RATHER DO THAT #waking up in a minefield

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presumenothing · 8 years

Text

past time

aka I have too many AUs, and also the Kaito & Shiho tag now has one (1) work on AO3 now, yay

People never think to look up, do they? (Or: two conversations, years apart.)

(AO3) (FFN)

The rustle of leaves catches Shiho by surprise.

That in itself is unusual - she’s always alert to her surroundings, and perhaps it might’ve been excessive for anyone else, but in her case it really isn’t.

So when an unfamiliar figure swings up onto the tree branch opposite to the one she’s sitting on, it takes her a moment to register that he’d said something. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know there was someone up here, I’ll just – ”

The boy (a year younger than her, probably Japanese descent, Shiho estimates automatically, trying to calm her racing heartbeat) is about to jump back off the branch before she speaks, startling both of them. “No, it’s fine, you can stay.”

“Really?” He gives her a blinding grin when she nods, and settles in - with enviable ease, Shiho can’t help but think. The trees lining the grounds have made a passable sanctuary for her thus far (people never think to look up, not even in a school ostensibly for gifted children), but even then she’s always wary of falling.

She almost regrets the decision not half a minute later, though, when he speaks again. “Enjoying the afternoon sun?"

“Not particularly,” Shiho answers anyway, leaning against the tree trunk. “You?”

“Nah, I’m definitely a night person. Just needed some fresh air after all those classes, you know?” He tugs at the collar of the school uniform with a faint grimace.

Shiho doesn’t, actually – her schedule is far from the usual even here, most of it taken up by research and graduate lessons with the professors.

“Right, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Kuroba K – sorry, Kaito Kuroba, I should say?” he continues with a sheepish grin, apparently unoffended by her silence. “Still getting used to that, my name sounds really weird in that order.”

“It’s an adjustment period,” she says noncommittally, because - well, it’s not as if she has much experience in the matter. Codenames don’t exactly differ across the world, after all. “I’m Shiho Miyano.”

“I know,” comes Kuroba’s answer, and that’s unexpected. “We’re in the same class for organic chemistry, right?”

Shiho pages through her memories quickly - she isn’t taking the class herself, of course, only helping her supervisor with it as part of her PhD qualifications. “You transferred in recently?”

“Yeah, a month ago. My mum wanted me to come to the States with her, and this school was recommended by a good friend of hers.” He pauses briefly. “Also, I’m quite sure my old school was just about ready to kick me out after I blew up the chemistry lab twice.”

Shiho does look up at that one. “Twice,” she repeats, half in disbelief – she remembers seeing Kuroba’s work in class now, and it had consistently been above average if one ignored the haphazard doodling in the margins and occasional creative answers. Certainly well above catastrophic-lab-incident standards, if she were to judge.

“On purpose,” he clarifies unhelpfully, a glint of mischief clear in his eyes. “Well, mostly on purpose. I was bored, and it wasn’t anything permanent at any rate... well, except for the glitter. I’m not sure Komoe-sensei ever completely got that out of her hair.”

Glitter? she thinks, but silently this time, because she’s not quite sure she wants to know the story behind that particular statement. “Well, I don’t think boredom will be an issue for you here, given the flexibility of the curriculum.”

The sudden excited grin on Kuroba’s face suggests that he does, in fact, agree. “Yeah, I definitely haven’t been bored so far - I mean, some of the teachers are boring, but I guess that’s the same everywhere. Though I could use some help with linear algebra, if you’re taking that class?”

“No, I’m biochem,” Shiho answers shortly – she knows the subject well enough, of course, but the last thing she needs is someone poking around in curiosity. “You’re engineering, I assume?”

Fortunately, he takes the hint to change the topic. “No, I want to be a magician! I’m working on a card gun for design class now, actually, although the mechanism keeps refusing to work out right.”

“Card gun?” she asks, interested despite herself.

“Yeah, you’re supposed to be able to shoot cards with it, but – ” there’s a crinkle of paper as he takes a sheaf of paper from a book she could’ve sworn he hadn’t been holding earlier, “ – here, I have the drafts if you want to take a look?”

“I wouldn’t be much help with that, I’m afraid,” she says before he can hand over the blueprints, and nods at the book instead. “What’re you reading?”

He holds out the book to her, and it takes her several seconds to make the mental switch to Japanese. “Lupin versus Holmes?” she reads from the cover, raising an eyebrow.

“Arsène Lupin versus Herlock Sholmes, actually, but Holmes is overrated anyway,” he quips with a grin. “Do you want to borrow my copy? It’s worth the read, I promise.”

Shiho hesitates – it’d be good practice for her Japanese, which she’s rarely had the chance to use for the past few years since coming here, but on the other hand –

Three things happen almost simultaneously in the next moment: the bell rings, Kuroba visibly startles, and the book reappears on her lap with a puff of smoke.

“Right, that’s my cue,” he says with a glance at his watch, while she’s still mute with surprise. “The professor’s gonna kill me if I’m late for physics again, I think.”

He’s already jumped down from the branch in one nimble movement that would’ve easily sprained Shiho’s ankle (or worse) before she finally manages to respond. “Wait, your book – ”

“Don’t worry about it, you can return it next time we meet! I’ve practically memorised it by this point anyway.” He waves at her with a cheeky grin. “See you around, Miyano!”

Kuroba dashes off around the corner of a building before she can figure out a reply, but - well, Shiho has never been one to say no to a good book, much as she hasn’t made time to read for longer than she can care to remember.

Then again, she’s free for the next two hours while the maintenance crew deals with the spill in an adjacent lab that’d sent her out here in the first place, so she opens the book and begins to read.

On the eighth day of last December, Mon. Gerbois, professor of mathematics at the College of Versailles, while rummaging in an old curiosity-shop, unearthed a small mahogany writing-desk which pleased him very much on account of the multiplicity of its drawers…

(He’d been overly optimistic, of course - she finishes the book quickly enough, but doesn’t get the chance to return it when she’s called back to Japan that very weekend.)

–––

Two muted voices echo faintly as Ai heads down the corridor, snatches of conversation from beyond the slightly ajar doors of the Kudo library.

“ – already told you to be careful – ”

“ – like to see you try piloting a hang glider in this weather, tantei-kun – ”

Both fall suddenly silent when she pushes the door open. (Honestly. She’d already deduced what was going on several heists ago, did they need to look so surprised?)

She walks in anyway, shaking her head with a sigh. “Here, I brought some extra medical supplies for – ”

Ai’s thoughts are abruptly derailed as she gets a proper look at the third person in the room, and the name slips out without her realising it. “Kuroba?”

And the Kaitou Kid, face unobscured by the shadow of a hat brim for once, blinks. “…Miyano?”

(…so, okay, Ai had known that Edogawa was helping Kid, but she clearly hadn’t figured out the whole truth. Though, judging from the look of shock mirrored on the thief’s face, she hadn’t been the only one.)

Edogawa freezes mid-movement, and Ai has the rare privilege of witnessing his complete, utter confusion. “You two… know each other?”

“I thought you looked familiar, but I figured that it must’ve been some weird coincidence. I mean, what were the chances?” Kuroba - who happens to be the Kaitou Kid, apparently, she cannot even believe her life right now - gives her the same blinding grin she remembers from a lifetime ago. “Guess I should’ve known better, huh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t have taken kindly to you asking, at any rate.” Ai takes a page from his book, and doesn’t bother answering Edogawa either - the detective can afford to stew for a while longer. “Still a Lupin fan, I see?”

The familiar top hat appears in Kuroba’s hand in a small puff of smoke, and he tips it at her theatrically, still with that look of amusement on his face. “I always wondered how that book ended up back in my room afterwards.”

“There was a reason I was sent to that school specifically.” Ai shrugs as she strides forward, placing the box she’d been carrying on the table between the pair. “I returned to the labs nearby several times, it was more a matter of finding an opportunity to slip away. Though I suppose I owe you one for taking that long to return it.”

Kuroba appears to think over that for a moment, before glancing to where his sleeve has been cut neatly away to reveal a gash across his upper arm. “Patch me up, and we call it even?”

Ai considers the wound - bullet graze, relatively large caliber, probably matched the deleted reports of snipers that she’d helped to track down previously - before nodding. “Get me a basin of warm water, would you, Edogawa-kun?” she asks, finally glancing over to where the detective is still opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

(Unbeknownst to her, a certain magician thief shudders for reasons he is not completely sure of.)

“Don’t worry, tantei-kun, the answer probably isn’t half as sinister as what you’re probably imagining,” Kuroba adds airily, just as Edogawa looks like he’s about to protest. “Though I’ll leave it up to the ojou-san here to decide whether to tell you.”

Edogawa gives them both a vaguely disgruntled look as he leaves, and Ai gets to work, picking up the tweezers she’d brought over.

“So I take it that you - ” Kuroba hisses sharply as she removes a piece of debris lodged in the wound, “ - are the scientist that tantei-kun mentions every now and then?”

“I would assume so, yes,” Ai quips dryly. “Better than ‘great white flying target’, if you ask me.”

“Hey, I volunteered for this job before I even met tantei-kun,” Kid objects, sounding mildly offended.

“Which is a testament to your soundness of mind, I’m sure,” Ai mutters under her breath.

Kuroba has the temerity to chuckle at that. “Seriously, I even told you about the card gun, I can’t believe it took you this long to put the pieces together. Though I got carried away with the customisations and ended up submitting my modified smoke bombs for class in the end.”

“Even if I’d realised the connection, I would’ve just assumed that both you and Kid had taken inspiration from a common source.” Ai reaches over to tilt the table lamp so she can see better. “And you’re certainly one to talk, given that you already know who Edogawa-kun is.”

“True,” Kuroba says with a wince - whatever painkillers he’d taken earlier were probably wearing off, Ai thinks.

They both fall into silence after that, until Ai straightens, satisfied that she’d removed all the debris. “Besides, if you’d actually gotten as far as showing me the prints, I’d probably have told you to patent the design, and then where would Kaitou Kid be?”

Kuroba is still laughing at that when Edogawa returns with the basin of water and two clean towels, a confused expression on his face.

(“I was lying, you know,” Kuroba tells her as his gaze flicks over the wall of screens in the surveillance van, showing various exits of the hideout they’re planning to raid. “Before.”

“Oh, for…” Shiho shakes her head as she checks the barrel of the Glock that Agent Jodie had lent her. “Do we really have to discuss this now, Kid?”

They all use the moniker when he helps on these missions, but it’s very much Kuroba that grins back up at her - there’s a distinct difference. “I’ve never had problems with linear algebra, although I don’t like it much.”

“So what, you were planning to play dumb if I’d agreed to help you?” A glance at Kuroba’s expression confirms her hypothesis - or possibly that he just hadn’t thought that far. “And you already knew I was up that tree, I assume.”

“Guilty as charged,” he answers in a singsong tone, card gun appearing in one hand with a quick movement. “Shall we go, then?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Shiho says, deadpan, as she ducks out of the van’s door ahead of him. “And I wasn’t actually taking that org chem class, if you must know.”

She hears him pause briefly at that one, and there’s a note of realisation in his voice when he replies. “Don’t tell me you were the one who deducted five marks for handwriting on my assignments?”

“No, that was one of the other grad students.” Shiho heads over to where Kudo is talking to several FBI agents, though she does wait for Kuroba to catch up before continuing. “I would’ve deducted ten, at least.”

Beside her, Kuroba splutters in indignation.)

as far as I can tell, the Japanese translation does actually have the title as ルパン対ホームズ, literally “Lupin vs Holmes”, unlike both English and the original French.

not terribly alternate as far as AUs go, though I leave the details up to your imagination – Mystery Train goes somewhat differently in this universe, of course, but otherwise the DC timeline thus far remains mostly similar. on the MK side of things, Kaito presumably returned to Japan for high school when he learned about Toichi being Kid, and while he did keep in contact with Aoko while overseas, their relationship would likely (and unfortunately) not be as close as in canon, leaving him freer to act as Kid. (if it wasn't obvious, the school was recommended by Vermouth – ostensibly to keep Chikage and Kaito safe from Snake and co., but who knows when it comes to her, honestly...)

and allow me to yet again link two stunning pieces of relevant art from aoi/aonosubete, because this artist owns my soul by this point, seriously

#dcmk #detective conan #kaitou kid #kuroba kaito #haibara ai #miyano shiho #magic kaito #fanfiction #mine #this is the AU i mentioned having thought of for shinichi and shiho a while back #but then i thought it might be fun to do it with kaito instead? it was #...i am too tired to proofread this closely so just hope there aren't any glaring errors that i've missed?#also my published wordcount for march is now officially past 10k #subtracting the previously written stuff #i am honestly amazed at myself?#past time

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