#LENA!! thanks for these as well :D

[ofgentleresolve]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to tag 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨

@mythvoiced lena is putting mi spotify on blast <3

hi lena!! but of course- please don't mind me and my nerd taste in music jfskldjf

one. pleasure by WARPs UP. two. souvenir by bump of chicken. three. drive by SHINee. four. that girl by emei. five. 1950 by king princess.

[scarletts-scribbles]

Reader works for Lena that turns into working buddies with benefits, but reader starts catching feelings. Maybe angst but happy ending?

Highly Unprofessional

⁀➷ Pairing: Lena Luthor x Reader

⁀➷ Notes: Okay so I haven’t written smut properly before so hopefully this is a decent attempt :,) Let me know what you think! Sorry this took a while, its like 3k words long so editing was a bitch.

⁀➷ Summary: When a one-time hookup turns into a regular occurance, it sets off a chain of events which you're helpless to stop.

⁀➷ WARNINGS: 18+ Minors DNI, fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public (I mean its in her office but the door was open oopsie)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the bustling chaos of corporate life, where stress reigns supreme the last thing you want to do is mix business and your personal life. It only ever ended in disaster.

When you’d first moved to National City, you’d never imagined just a few short months later you’d be working directly under the city’s most prevenient businesswoman. Lena Luthor was a force to be reckoned with. It was a miracle you’d gotten the position of her assistant at all, your CV was sharp, but it wasn’t anything to be in awe of so when you’d got the call that you’d received the job it was safe to say she was over the moon.

It taken a little while to warm up to you. She’d been a rather cold at first. Not that you could blame her of course, given her family history. However slowly but surely you found her opening up more to you, building up her trust gradually. In the meantime, whilst she’d grown to depend on your assistance, you payed close attention and slowly learnt her tells. You knew when Lena was upset, she’d get that little crinkle in her brows or that when she was anxious, she’d gently bite the left corner of her lip. Infact you’d become so observant of her habits and body language that sometimes you knew how she was feeling before she’d register the emotions herself.

One particularly hectic day in the bustling office, the air thick with tension, you noticed Lena pacing nervously in her office. The telltale signs were there – the crinkle in her brows, the subtle lip-biting – Lena was clearly on edge about the upcoming meeting with a major client.

Truth to told, seeing her like this made you feel anxious as well. How could someone as powerful and accomplished as Lena get so nervous? You’dhad never seen her like this before, and it was almost like seeing a completely different person.

You had to help.

You knocked gentle on the door, clearing your throat quietly to announce your presence, “Miss Luthor?”

A wave of relief washed over Lena as she heard your voice calling through the door. This meeting had been weighing heavily on her mind, and she was desperate to find some way to relax before it started.

“You know you can call me Lena.” She smiled and nodded for you to enter.

You stepped into the room and approached Lena with the gentle warmth and confidence that always radiated from you. She found herself walking over to you, looking at you deeply before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. You took her closeness as a chance to reach out to squeeze her shoulder and when she didn’t object, you softly applied pressure to her muscles.

“Fuck.” She let the curse split out involuntarily before trying to regain herself, “Do you need something from me?”

“You’re tense, let me help?” You mumbled softly to which she nodded. Your touch was like a balm for her. As you began subtly massaging Lena's shoulders, the tension began to subside, and her frown faded away, you let your hand slide down to her wrist, holding it gently as you pulled her over to the pristine sofa at the other side of her office, “Come, sit.”

"Thank you." Lena took a deep breath and sunk into the seat. She could feel the stress and anxiety that had been weighing heavily on her began to melt away. She turned her head toward you and smiled softly, letting out a sigh of relief. Lena gave in and allowed herself to sink deep into your warm embrace. With her worries temporarily relieved, she closed her eyes and began to enjoy the feeling of your hands working away at her tension.

Leaning in, you reached to place a comforting hand on her thigh, feeling the subtle tension in her muscles. You had no intention’s behind the action. Your touch was light, meant to reassure rather than intrude. But Lena’s eyes slowly opened and cast over to meet yours, her emerald green iris's seemingly sparkling with a new found feeling.

It was obvious she was a little surprised by the gesture, but there was a moment of pause. She tried to be professional, but her body was responding positively to the touch.

The feeling was both calming and exciting, sending a shiver of desire down her spine, the creeping onset on desire making her leg’s bounce nervously.

She looked into your eyes and saw the unmistakable spark of attraction between the pair of you. Of course she’d noticed your lokg glances before and she wasn’t ashamed to say she’d given you some the day you’d left her office when you’d interviewed for the position. Her previous tension was soon replaced with a subtle feeling of arousal, and she couldn't help but crave more.

"Could you...keep going?" she whispered, words shaking through her soft yet overwhelming sensual voice - filled with desire.

“You mean?” Your voice was quiet as you very slowly moved your hand up her thigh, waiting for to confirm her consent, “Is this okay? I need to hear you say it Lena.”

"Keep going," Lena whispered. Her voice was raspy from the tension, but there was no mistaking the excitement in her voice. She wanted you to keep touching her. She craved it. Soaked in the intimacy of your touch. "Please..."

The feeling of your hand gliding over her thighs was intoxicating, sending shivers of arousal through her body. You teased her lightly, fingers reaching her line of her panties. You could hardly fight back your own growing blush at the feeling of the wet fabric. Lena let out a soft moan as you softly ran your finger around her entrance – she was so sensitive. Her eyes closed once again as she leaned back into the couch, surrounding herself to your touch.

Your touch was intoxicating. You kept it light, but your slow strokes were sending her body into ecstasy. Lena's breaths grew shallow as she leaned toward you, her lips meeting yours in an intimate kiss.

"Don't stop," she whispered against your lips, her body urging you to keep going as you edged her sodden clit, rubbing circles as her back arched involuntarily.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” You whispered back with a husky tone as your fingers continued to work their magic on her. You could feel the heat radiating off her body, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere. Your touch became firmer, getting closer to her core, making sure every stroke and tease was intense. You were doing your job finely, the way she moaned into your mouth was driving you wild with validation, knowing you were making her feel good. Truely you were completely under her control, willing to do anything she desired - anything to please her.

With each passing moment, the lust between you both grew more intense, fuelling your passion. Both your excitement only grew with every teasing touch and feather-light kiss. You knew she enjoyed the buildup of anticipation just as much as you did. In the heat of the moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself to the moment.

Your hand never stopped tracing along her sensitive folds as Lena’s moans grew louder, encouraging you to continue. She kissed you again and the kiss deepened as she pushed against you, urging you to take control. Her body ached for you as you pressed your fingers against her entrance, playing with her and teasing her. You held her deep in your embrace, feeling her shudder helplessly, her body giving into yours as you continued to stroke her. Finally, you gave into the inevitable and pushed inside, finally giving her the release, she craved.

Lena writhed beneath you, gasping for breath as you drove her toward climax. She muscles were tight against your fingers and you couldnt feel your hand going a little numb from how hard her thighs were squeezed together. She kept her hands clenched in your hair as you felt her body convulsing beneath yours. She moaned, high desperate sounds before finally, with a shudder of ecstasy, she peaked. Her back arching helplessly as she reached her climaxed under your guide.

Once she’d caught her breath, you carefully pulled out of her, making sure to be gentle against her sensitivities. You stroked her hair tenderly, feeling her body begin to relax against you as she came down down from her high.

"Do you feel better now?" you asked her, as she leaned back against you, still breathing heavily from the experience.

Lena sighed softly, a satisfied smile on her face, “So much better," she replied, her voice still light and breathless from the rush "Thank you for helping me relax.”

You brushed your fingers across her cheek, lingering for a beat. The intimacy of the moment was intoxicating, the shared look of pleasure and satisfaction. You couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than just stress relief. As your head wandered the clouds, you didn’t notice Lena fixing her hair, tying it back in a tight ponytail.

She checked her watch, seemingly debating something for a moment before her voice pulled you back down to reality, “I think we’ve got just enough time.” She said, sitting back down against you, pulling on of your legs over hers, opening you up.

“Enough time for what?”

Lena smirked mischievously, tugging at the edge of your skirt. “For me to return the favour...”

･ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ﾟ･

That had been the first of many times you’d helped her relax. It had become a sort of ritual really. Whenever she’d have a big meeting or important event coming up, she’d come to you to help her unwind. Truthfully the first it’d happened; it had taken you a few days to really process it all. The experience had changed you. You couldn’t just see her as your boss anymore. She was more than that. Lena had always had a stunning body of course but now it was almost as if though you couldn’t keep her eyes off her.

The ways her hips curved had you weak in the knees, it wasn’t just her physical attributes though. It was everything, the weak she spoke, the way she held herself. It was intoxicating. Safe to say you were happy to lend a hand whenever needed. Maybe you could’ve kept this up forever, helping her out without a second thought – she was still your boss after all. But this latest time had changed something in you.

It had started off in its usual way, you’d seen the meeting scheduled on the calendar and let yourself into her office – the two of you were way past knocking now. Lena knew what was about to happen, she’d been waiting for it.

As you entered her office, Lena didn't waste any time before pulling you closer to her. You felt the heat and need radiating off of her as she kissed you passionately, her hands moving greedily over your body. You moaned as she pushed you up against the desk, her mouth hot against your neck.

Suddenly, she pulled back, looking at you with a predatory glint in her eyes. "Do you know what I want to do to you?" she whispered, her voice low with desire as her tender fingers danced down the front of your shirt - making a show out of unbuttoning them.

As she spoke, Lena left the kiss and moved down your body with purpose, her lips and tongue leaving a trail of heat and anticipation down your torso. Your hands found her hair, pulling it as if to guide her further where you wanted her. But the CEO had plans of her own. She knew what she wanted and she wanted it now, right this moment. So much so that she hadn’t even bothered closing her office door.

Without warning, she pushed your shoulders down, forcing you to sit on her desk. Lena smirked, moving in to kiss you deeply, so deep that it left you chasing her lips as she pulled away. Without a pause, she pushed your legs apart and planted herself between them, her eagerness so apparent it sent a shiver of desire right through you.

You could feel her looking up at you as she kissed through the fabric of your panties, her hands moving to stroke and soothe wherever they could reach.

You couldn't help but moan now, one hand coming to grip her hair and the other gripping the edge of the desk with such force that your knuckles turned white. You were helpless to resist as Lena worked her way deeper, your grip became more frenzied, less able to control yourself.

It hadn’t taken long before your panties had been pulled down and Lena was happily satisfying herself on your clit whilst you slowly grinded against her face, desire driving you wild.

Then something suddenly caught your attention. You heard someone in the hall…

You tried to voice this but through your whimpers, not much was articulated. Despite this, Lena didn't even flinch when she’d heard them, seemingly not bothered by the accompanying approaching footsteps.

Instead, she kept going, her tongue working magic on you as she held your hips steady with one hand. You could hear people talking just outside the open door, but Lena didn't seem to care. In fact, it seemed to turn her on even more - the thrill of getting caught.

You tried to stifle your moans, but it was impossible with Lena's skilled mouth on you. Your body was writhing on the edge of the desk, your toes curling as the pleasure built and built. And still, she didn't stop.

Lena never broke eye contact with you as she continued to work her tongue and lips over your pussy, sending you further and further into ecstasy. The sounds of voices in the hallway were drowned out by your moans, which the Luthor seemed to be enjoying immensely.

She added a couple of fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit your sweet spot, and you felt your body convulse in response. You couldn't hold back anymore, and you came hard, your body shaking with the force of it.

Lena didn't stop, though; she kept going, licking and sucking until you were overstimulated and sensitive. Finally, she stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she grinned down at you.

“You’re so fucking hot.” She laughed, the sound of her voice sending shivers down your spine again.

Your cheeks blushed crimson as you cleaned yourself up, “Do you want me-” You took a step forward but stopped when she held out her hand, shaking her head as she fixed her hair.

“I just wanted you darling, nothing more. Now if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got a meeting to attend too.”

With that Lena smoothed out the crease in her skirt before heading out the door, leaving you to catch your breath, still perched upon her table.

Darling?

The pet name replayed over and over in your head as the day passed by. You couldn’t stop thinking about her, about these sessions.

It wasn’t just about favours anymore. It felt like she had wanted you. You’d wanted her. God you’d been trying so hard to ignore the fact you’d crave her touch when you were alone. It had gotten to the point where you’d started to miss simply being around her. In fact you’d started coming in earlier and leaving later just to be near her. But you had tried to ignore it. Dammit! Why couldn’t you stop thinking about it!

The rational part of your brain was telling you to pull back, to remind yourself that her actions were just physical and didn't mean anything more. But the other part of you, the part that craved the closeness and heat of your body wanted her for more. You wanted to feel more than just the pleasure of their bodies. You wanted to build a connection, a partnership. You wanted more.

Oh shit... You wanted love.

The realisation had made you sick. What you wanted could never happen. You knew Lena’s life; it was busy and packed. She didn’t have time for something solid. It was why your little favours had worked so well. You’d kept each other going. You could hardly tell her that you wanted more.

Goddamn it!

ﾟ: ･ﾟ: ﾟ･

The ringing it your ears hadn’t really faded since you’d realised. You’d called out of work the past 2 days; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Her eyes were a tease, a reminder of what you couldn’t have. Instead, you’d stayed home, trying to wrap your head around all the feelings swirling round in your head, your rapid thoughts never seemed to slow down long enough for you to process them.

You were in love with Lena Luthor.

You were in love with your boss…

Casual sex! That was all it was meant to be, no, no, no! How could you let yourself fall like this?

In all honesty, it felt like you were grieving. Grieving something you could never have. Something forbidden. It was awful.

You felt like shit. It had taken most of your energy to make the treacherous journey from your bed to the sofa - there was no point getting dressed. It wasn’t like you were going to work today anyway. You couldn’t bare the thought of facing her, the thought of it ate you up inside.

As you lay on your sofa, consumed by the weight of your emotions, a knock on the door suddenly startled you. You contemplated just ignoring it, hoping whoever it is will just get the hint, go away and leave you alone. However, the knocking persists, growing louder and more insistent with each rap.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself off the sofa and reluctantly opened the door. To your surprise, it was Lena standing there. A concerned expression etched across her face. Her usual confident demeanor seemed softened by genuine worry.

"Lena?" you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper.

She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, scanning the disarrayed room. "I've been trying to reach you for days. What's going on? Why haven't you been at work?”

Lena's concerned gaze met yours, and you could sense the weight of unspoken questions in her eyes. Your throat tightened, grappling with the words you hadn't dared to say.

"I... I just needed some time to think," you admitted, avoiding direct eye contact with her, staring hard at the floor, "Things have... changed.”

Her brow furrowed as she took in the gravity of your words. "Changed how?"

You hesitated, then let out a defeated sigh, "I can't keep doing this, Lena. Us. Secretly fucking each other at work just because we can. I don’t want to just be someone of the side anymore, I want to be more than that."

There was a moment of silence as Lena processed your words. Tension hung heavy over the room, a silence so thick you could’ve slice it with a knife, and you wondered if you had just ruined whatever fragile arrangement existed between you.

Finally, Lena spoke up, her soft voice wavering as she spoke, "More? What do you mean?"

"I mean..." You paused, gathering your courage. "I want a real relationship, Lena. Not just these secret little rendezvous we keep having. Lena, I want something genuine."

Her eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability. "I didn't think... I didn't know you wanted that," she admitted, her usual confidence waning.

"I do," You nodded slowly, affirming your words, "I can't keep pretending that this is enough for me. I want more than just physical connection; I want an emotional one too."

Lena took a hesitant step closer, the distance between you diminishing. "I thought we were both on the same page, I thought-.”

"No, Lena, I can't do this anymore," you repeated, the weight of your unspoken desires finally finding a voice, “I can’t keep pretending I’m fine with this anymore. I’m sorry but I just can’t.”

Lena's expression shifted, torn between conflicting emotions. The room hung in suspended silence, waiting for her response.

Lena’s eyes softened, and a vulnerable smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I never realised how much you wanted this," she admitted, a hint of regret in her voice. "Maybe I've been too guarded, too afraid to admit it to myself…”

You felt a mix of relief and hope as Lena continued, “I'd think I’d like to try a real relationship too…”

There it was. The sentence that changed your life. You had a chance with Lena and you weren’t going to let it pass you by. Maybe this time, mixing your business and personal life wouldn’t end in disaster after all… even if it was horribly unprofessional.

✧･ﾟ: *

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[simpingforbots]

Hi I really love your writing of transformers one and I was wondering if you could make a d-16 and female s /o riding a crowded train with the other miners and d-16 had to lean against her ( but not to close) so that she won't get squish and she gets really flustered afterwards.

D-16 x Fembot Miner.

Peaceful Ride to another shift.

Another day another shift at mines. Young fembot woke up from her charge, seeing other bots and fembots waking up as well, or walking around to receive their daily energon portion for the day. She could hear Orion Pax and D-16 talking loudly about something, probably some kind of antics that Orion was planning. she sighed and get of her charging port and headed towards the energon hand out, taking in two and keeping other three on her arm for later times, knowing well she won't get a break at all and it will help her to not collapse from exhaustion. The reason she was looking for D-16 is because she really liked him. Out of all the miners he was one of the best, the one with Elita’s group, who was a good leader. It did made Y/N a bit jealous, worried that maybe D-16 had a small crush on leader, but he had to constantly reassure her he did not. They were just co-worker. Sighing heavily as she got her equipment, fembot scanned the area, hoping to spot D-16 in ray of helm, but no luck. Not wanting to get on Darkwing's bad side today, or Elita's, she followed the flow to the train, hopping inside and finding some spot by the windows and getting shoved by other bots and fems as they pulled in. She could not handle the flow and tripped a bit, bumping in to someone.

Sorry – She mattered out quietly and moved a bit to give the bot she bumped in to some more space, well as much as she could in this overcrowded train, only to bump in to them again as the train started moving again – Sorry.

You good, Y/N.

Fembot quickly looked up, smiling a bit as D-16 flashed his soft smile at them. Another bot bumped in to Y/N making her stumble in to D-16 chest, pleasing her hands on his chest to cushion her self from suden fall. Such suden action made her feel hot in face and quickly pulled back, trying to regain what little pride she had. Being cogless miner was basically the lowest part of society and it was already hard to get even a little bit of respect. The train moved on swiftly though Iacon, diving under and she was shoved in to D-16 again, earning a chuckle from him.

Really handsy today huh? – Y/N looked away, blushing quite a lot, even if they were dating. - Hold on a second - , wrapping his servo around the small torso and pulled Y/n closer, lenaing in to her – better?

Y/N felt flustered even more, but at the same time felt safe as she was now safe from constantly bumping in to other bots. It was really nice motion from D-16, leaning back in to touch as the train continued it’s path in to the deeper mines, silently enjoying the ride in safe hands of fellow miner, who she was totally NOT crushing on right now. And totally did not enjoyed the hand on her hip and safety D-16 provided. It was a shirt moment of piece in this hard life and sadly good times don’t last fore ever. As soon as train stopped, you had to get of and go with another group to mine energon.

Try not to get in trouble today, D – She smiled, piking up a drill as they walked out, flashing a soft smile towards the bot she cared about.

You too. Be carful out there – D-16 nodded and had to leave, waiving his hand and started his jat-pack, flying away.

Y/N only sighed dreamily, knowing well that this short moment of peace will be forever engraved in to her memory. Until something clicked for her. His hand was on her hips. Her hips. She could only let out a muffled squawk as she hid her face in drill and hurried to follow her group.

thank you so much for requesting this. sorry if it is small, but i do hope you enjoy it. hope you have a wonderful day/evening where ever you are. :-)

[shepherds-of-haven]

HIIIIII LENA !!! As you may already know due to my nonstop blabbering I'm very very much in love with the world of Blest 🥹 and I was wondering... do you see yourself making/compiling some sort of codex/art book in the future? Like, a book that has all the organized lore about Blest, maybe with the art you've already commissioned? I WOULD JUMP ON IT IMMEDIATELYYY, EVEN IF IT'S A KICKSTARTER ITEM OR COLLECTOR'S ITEM — just letting you know teeheeheehee

OH AND if a physical published book is too difficult, then a digital printable copy thing would also be AMAZING 🌈🌈🌈 I'd immediately get that printed and hard bound !!!

(lowkey if the answer is even the tiniest yes I WILL start slowly saving 😭 JUST !! A REAL LIVE SHOH CODEX !! RAAAAAAAAH )

Oh, but I hope this doesn't bother you 🥹 the thought just came to me and wouldn't leave me alone! Please don't feel like you need to make one or anything!

Hi snow!! 💖💖 Thanks so much for your lovely message, as always! As a matter of fact, I have been slowly putting together a digital art book/lore bible for Shepherds in my (extremely sparse) free time over the last two years or so: it's been extremely slow going, but it's basically got everything you're imagining, including concept art, official game art, behind-the-scenes tidbits and easter eggs, guides and walkthroughs, codex entries from Patreon, and more! A lot of it is more of my personal rambling and reasons behind certain design decisions or showing the progression of, say, the game's logo over the years, or the differences between the novels and the game, or my (or an artist's) thought process behind this or that, but there is a codex section that will have some organized lore as well!

It may not have all the organized lore about Blest, since I'll leave that for the in-game codex, but it will have some pages on stuff like religion, factions, races, magic, days of the week, currency, and things like that, along with the stuff we cover on Patreon like animals, food, maps, calendars, and etc.! :') I'm extremely skeptical about my own visual design skills when it comes to putting this together LOL but I've been doing my best! 💪 I was wondering if I should keep it a secret until closer to the game's official release, but your ask was so nice that I couldn't resist sharing!

This will be a digital artbook for now, bundled with the 'ultimate' edition of the game (which will also include the game's original soundtrack), since I don't think I have the time or bandwidth to figure out how mass printing and distributing physical books would work: that takes a lot of research both in which publisher and storefront is the best to use, how to keep costs down for the consumer, and also figuring out stuff like margins and bleed, which aren't as big of a deal for a digital PDF!

But I hope that answers your question! :D Thank you so much for your encouragement and praise as always, and I hope you're doing very well! 💖

[supercorpkid]

Powergirl Should Die

Supergirl. Powergirl. B!D. Kara Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Alex Danvers x BabyDanvers!Reader, Lena Luthor, Winn Schott.

Word Count: 2550.

Porwergirl should die. Someone should kill her.

The suit is skin tight, it clings so forcefully onto you as if it's trying to become part of you. But this other skin, just simply doesn’t fit right over your bones. 

There is a huge House of El crest over your chest, in its golden glory. It weighs down on your skin, heavy and sacred. It should help you feel at ease. It doesn’t. It feels like it’s burning your skin like a branding iron. 

Kryptonian? 

Yes. 

Super powers? 

Yes. 

You’re a superhero. Next, please!

Kara stands tall next to you, hand on your shoulder. “Would you look at that,” your sister smiles brightly at you. “Mother and father would be so proud of you, mini me.”

Kara has called you that your whole life, but you never felt so little as you do right now. You've also never felt so much like Kara. Crumpled up inside this supersuit to fit someone else’s dream. You don’t think your parents would be very proud of you now.

“Kara, this feels odd.” You try to lift the suit from your skin, that is so snuggled up it barely leaves you room to breathe. “I-I look like you.”

“I know!” She proudly squeaks. “I asked Winn to only change the colors. How do you feel about the white, red and blue?”

“Like a walking American flag.” You wince at the thought. You like the white, it’s a little more sober than the blue in Kara's suit, it also reminds you of the vest you used to wear back in Krypton. The red cape feels like they've ripped a piece of Kara’s and placed it on your back. The high blue boots are uncomfortable and the matching gloves are just plain stupid.

“You certainly don’t look like one.” Alex chimes in from behind you, and you turn around, sick of the sight of you in the mirror. “Honestly sis, I like this suit. I think it might be even better than Kara’s.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, mine has history.”

“Yours is a copy of Superman’s.”

“That’s what I mean, history.”

You watch your sister’s bickering with faint attention because they both would never say how ridiculous you look with this dull, hideous, comical outfit.

But it didn’t matter how foolish you looked, or how stupid you felt. There was no way out of this. Kara said you looked perfect and Alex agreed. J’onn, who’s been the closest thing to a father to you on this planet, gave you a stiff smile when asked what he thought. He could read your mind, remember? That’s what he thought about it. And Winn was just over the moon with his creation. No way out. From that day on, you’re Powergirl.

It hasn’t been long since you started being Powergirl. You’re still not the most prominent face of the Supers, thank God for that. You do the easy jobs while Kara takes on the real bad guys. You follow her lead. Obey to what Alex tells you to do over the comm that is permanently stuck in your ear. As if you couldn’t hear her from miles and miles away.

But with every passing day, it becomes even more obvious to you that you were really not cut out for this superhero life. Not good at it. Not happy with it. Not fit for it.

The very opposite of Kara, actually. Because Kara fits everywhere and with everyone. She fits perfectly in her suit, with her alias. Perfectly at her job at CatCo, as a news reporter. And ever since she landed on Earth she created her perfect family, story, life on this planet. 

You, on the other hand, wish everyday you were still at Krypton. You are well aware that if you stayed behind, that if your parents hadn't made Kara snuggle your smaller form against her own body on that pod, you would have exploded. You wouldn't be alive today. And you wish people knew you don't want to be dead, you just wish your planet hadn't exploded in the first place.

Sure Kara feels the same. Yet she makes a name for herself and gives back to this planet that took you both in so willingly, that gave you both powers because of its sun. Kara is just different.

"Mother would want us to use our powers for good." She would whisper to you in the dark, whenever the Danvers would tell you to not use your powers. Whenever they asked you to fit in completely. "Father spent so much time trying to stop our planet from deteriorating, don't you think that if he had powers he would use them to make that happen?"

She would ask you questions that didn't feel like questions. That required no answers at all. Kara would tell you what she knew about them, use them as arguments to explain to you (convince even) why you had to become a superhero too. 

And you would lay there in the dark, after your sister was asleep, looking at the long dead stars, and wondering whether she was right. Whether that was your parents' plans all along or just a sad coincidence.

"Powergirl." You hear Kara's voice early in the morning while you're still trying to brew yourself a cup of coffee. "I need you for a second."

"It's too early in the morning and I have to get ready for work." You press on your comm to answer. "Can't you deal with it alone?"

"Hm, no. I need you to come here now." 

You let out a huge sigh, trying to ease your own mind. Coffee will wait, you guess. You're out of your pj's, into your suit, and out of the house in a blur. You stop next to Kara while she stares at a billboard.

"What?" You can't help the harshness of your tone as you see no emergency around her.

Kara says nothing. Only points at the billboard and you finally take note of it. Written in large red colors, the sentence: Powergirl should die.

Huh.

"It seems that you have an enemy." Kara says when time enough has passed for you to read the sentence over a few times. "Don't worry, we'll catch them."

Cute. It's your first thought. It's almost like someone wrote you a love letter, au contraire. 

Kara makes an effort to tear it all down, destroy the billboard before anyone sees it. You don't help her, stuck inside your own mind, replaying the words in your head. 

"No need to worry." She assures you, hand on your shoulder to get you out of your trance. "No one will do you any harm, mini me. I'd never let anyone hurt you."

"Thanks, Kar." You look at your watch on your wrist. "Work calls." And so you fly home.

You try to lodge that sentence in the back of your mind. You don't wanna seem stressed out, even though you are. But showing how actually worried you are about it, and with the fact that someone is coming for you, it's inconceivable. 

Kara would worry. Alex would stress. Ooof, you can see it all playing out. Sleepovers and excuses for you to miss work and hang at the DEO headquarters so they can keep an eye on you, until you're feeling suffocated.

No, no. You can't go through that. It's been a while since you and your sisters shared a bedroom. You don't think you three can do that again now that you're grown ups. 

It happens again. You don't see it, but you hear the agents commenting about it, a couple days later. They get muted the second you fly in the DEO, which is not only annoying but foolish. You do have super hearing after all.

"So, where was it this time?" You ask Alex, while she tries to avoid looking at you. 

"Where's what?" She tries, and you furrow your brows.

"Winn, put it on the monitor." You ask coming closer. Winn looks at Alex as if asking for permission, but you don't give her time to deny him. "Come on, I heard the agents. I'm still Kryptonian even if I'm not a Super."

Winn huffs. "On the tallest building of National City." The photo goes up on the large TV in front of you, and you swallow deep.

Powergirl should die. 

"Y/N," Alex talks in a low tone so the agents around can't hear her. "it's not personal."

"Looks personal." You cross your arms, turning your back at the TV. "Someone wanting me dead sounds like it's as personal as it can get."

"Supergirl is looking into it, I promise we'll catch whoever did this."

"Alex, please." You pass her on your way to the training room. "You know damn well my favorite thing about you is that you don't lie."

"You've lost too many punching bags." You hear a voice behind your back, and you breathe deep before turning around.

"Just training a little." You look at the number of destroyed bags by your feet and decide that it's true, there's too many, even though that's what they're here for. 

"Alex told me about the message." Kara approaches you slowly, trying to test the territory. She can see your distress, but doesn't know the extent of it. And she won't, because you're definitely going to fake it.

"Yeah, tall building. They got the writing off quickly, though. So no major problems."

"Honey," Kara's voice is even sweeter now, if that's possible. "I'll catch them. I'll be patrolling tonight. No one's coming for you."

"I'm not worried." You smile at your lie, or half of lie for what it's worth. Knowing that Kara will be patrolling the city helps. You know your sister would never let anything bad happen to you. And it's very unlikely that anyone on this planet could easily defeat two Kryptonians.

Kara also smiles, and brings you into her arms for a hug. And you breathe out, calmer. Kara's arms have kept you safe from many perils. Spaceship lost in space, new planet, new school, new job. Surely she can keep you safe again.

You don't feel safe, though, when you wake up to a familiar voice far away. You rub the sleep from your eyes, well awake, paying close attention to a conversation you weren't invited to be a part of.

"Alex, I went around the city, there's no new wri-"

"Kara? What was that?"

There it was, in big red letters the sentence that has been haunting you for days. Powergirl should die. And under it new words' been added, someone should kill her.

"I found new writing." Kara's voice comes a second later. "It's worse this time."

"Take a picture so we can compare the handwriting and get back here."

"I have to clean this up." But before Kara even has the chance to, you're flying next to her in front of the L Corp building. "Y/N! What are you doing here?"

You move closer to the building to investigate. The ink is still wet, it wasn't done too long ago. You look around trying to find cameras. It's Lena's building, you're sure there are cameras everywhere. You spot one with a direct view.

"Mini me-" Kara tries.

"Go to work Supergirl, I'll deal with this. Someone wanting me dead is my problem." It's always been your problem, you are aware. But Kara promised you, you had nothing to worry about. Promised she would patrol the city. Promised she would protect you. And yet, here it is, in big block red letters.

"But-"

"I got it, Kara. Can you just believe in me?"

"Y/N, you know I do. I just wanna help."

"I don't need help." You clench your jaw, tired of being treated like a little girl. Like a mini Kara instead of your own person. "I'm Kryptonian too."

Cheap shot? Maybe. Definitely. You throw it, anyway. 

You clean the writing then fly home to suit up. You can't face Lena without it. Another secret that only makes you hate your secret identity as hard. Lying to your friends, sneaking out, it's all stressing and there's literally no reward high enough worth of all this.

"Lena."

"Oh shit." Lena's hand goes to her chest after her obvious scare. You can hear her heart almost beating out of her chest. "It's too early for bad news, Powergirl."

"Trust me, I agree with that." You breathe out, trying to give her a smile. It comes out flat. "I was wondering if I could look into one of your surveillance cameras. There was some writing on this building this morning, I would very much like to know who's responsible."

"Writing? I - I didn't see anything when I came in."

"Good. I cleaned it as fast as possible." You point at her computer and she breathes deep as if she is agreeing with you. 

It doesn't take long for the images to be up, and you two to be carefully reversing the filming until Lena sees you and Kara flying in front of it, and read the words herself. She looks up to you and quirks up an eyebrow, in question.

"Currently unsure if someone is threatening me or if this is just general knowledge being passed on." 

"People don't want you dead, you're a superhero!" Lena argues. "Maybe Lex, but he's currently serving his time."

"Clearly not everyone agrees with you." You point back at the words on her computer.

"It's awful." She admits, even though she doesn't fully trust you or Kara yet. "Wait, wait. There."

You can't see a thing. One minute is there, the other isn't. You slow down the images, trying to see any detail. Lena soon takes over and slows down as much as she can. That's when you see it, just a tiny flash of red. You hold your breath. Thankfully, Lena hasn't noticed it.

"How's this possible? There's no one." 

"Seems that I'll have to patrol the city myself tonight." You're almost leaving Lena's office when you turn around one more time. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Luthor."

"I was barely of any help at all." Lena points at the computer as proof and you give her a smile.

"Au contraire, darling. You showed me everything I needed to see." You wink at her, then fly out.

You march inside the DEO, positive on your plan. No one is talking you out of it, that's for sure.

Winn tries to argue that it is illogical for you to just give yourself to your enemy. He gets ignored. Alex argues that as a DEO agent she can't let you do this, and as your older sister she would be insane to leave you alone in this situation. You don't budge. Kara pulls out the big guns, her promise to mother and father, her duty as your protector, how you're the only connection she still has with Krypton, her love for you and so on. Her cries fall on deaf ears.

So at night, you fly around National City watching and studying everyone in it, even though you know you should only be looking for one person. One person with superspeed, a red cape and a big motive.

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 25 Thoughts: Tech Support

The fabled mukbang episode is upon us. This is probably the most TMA an episode has been too. Jonny wrote it so that's not a major surprise but it really does feel like the most seamless to slot into TMA of all the episodes so far. It was a great one too. Who doesn't love dinner and a show? No notes.

Spoilers for episode 25 below the cut.

Alice and Sam's interaction is interesting to me for entirely how uninteresting it is. I'm not sure if it's just me but I feel like there has been this run of episodes recently that are sort of coasting in terms of plot progression. That's not a bad thing but it does feel like we're in a bit of a trough between big things right now. Not that this episode doesn't have at least some progression in it. It's just not now, and not next.

The incident was a lot of fun IMO. Really evocative, a great format, a nice solid contained story where no one horrifically dies. Hard to complain about anything that happened here. Just some great Magnus-flavoured horror. Similarly to the last couple I don't know that this is going to have much bearing on later episodes. It doesn't feel like there is much in here we haven't seen before. Obviously the specifics are different but I couldn't point to anything metaphysically unique in this one. It is, of course, the most hunger related one of these we've had in a while. So the Hunger-not-Fear theorist are eating well I'm sure. I don't really buy that. Or, at least, I don't think it's actually all that different than TMA. I think the strongest name we have for them right now is Dread thanks to the capital D Dread from the transcript of Hard Reset. Although it's entirely possible there is more than one category of entity here. If we didn't have German to go off of I'd also say it would be a good theory for what DPHW might mean. Each letter representing an entity, or type of entity, and the influence they have upon any given incident. That's all unrelated to the incident, of course, but I did feel like I should talk about something here.

Poor poor Colin. Cursed by the plot to get institutionalised for being right. Well, for the hammer stuff but that's nearly like being right. What's probably the most tragic part about this is that the team is primed to believe him now. Had he laid out what he knows sans hammer he'd probably have won them over but paranoia is a cruel mistress indeed.

Lena caring more about rules than people is unfortunately attractive. It's incredibly funny to me that the OIAR offices are in such a disarray that the terminals are apparently right next to server racks. I'm going to be interested to see where this goes. Sam standing up to Lena and flatly declaring that things are fucked up in the office should have some sort of payoff but I do sort of worry it might not get mentioned. The compartmentalisation of the OIAR is clearly falling to bits but she didn't seem super worried in this exchange about that. Hopefully we'll get to see more of that in the future.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: 2474 is about where I was expecting it to land. Not a whole lot to add there.

CAT# Theory: At CAT2 this is another one of those that reinforces my belief that if CAT is Person/Place/Object then CAT is a terrible way to grade anything. Obviously the restaurant is a place but there was also clearly someone in the place working with it in some way. That's entirely ignored by putting it in CAT2 and so is discarding information of merit for no real reason. If a team responds to this you'd expect them to want to know that there is a killer cook in the building too.

R# Theory: B seems a little high to me but I also can't really think of a good reason why it shouldn't be B.

Header talk: Food (Gorging) -/- Compulsion (Disgust) is pretty descriptive, so not much to say on that one.

[wikiblair]

Just wanted to pop in to say that

1. your tags are cracking me up. Thanks for giving the ficlets a read!

And! 2. that the reason Nia acts like she wrote half the supercorp smut is because she did. It's part of her long game - eventually she'll 'slip' and 'accidentally' leave her AO3 account up at CatCo for a naive Kara to stumble across and read and blush and gay panic her ass to Alex who will slam the door on her face because hearing Kara describe the absolute raunch has left her queazy.

Of course she did :D. I love her chaotic energy in fics when it comes to Supercorp :D. I think that no one wants them together more than our girl Nia (maybe even more than Lena and Kara themselfs :D). And that get me thinking.. Do you think you would be able to write a ficlete where Kara will find Nia´s AO3 account with lot of smutty supercorp fanfic? I think it would be hillarious to read :-)

I am glad my tags makes you laugh :-). It´s a small repay for how much I was giggling during reading the fics (well minus the one where Kara dies, that almost made me cry) :-).

[ekingston]

I'm rereading the shape of soup and it's truly diabolical to 1) not put the name of Lena's Cello piece in the fic and 2) straight up tell us that no version on Spotify will do it justice. Diabolical I say!!!

(please I need to listen to it, help a starving beggar out 👉👈)

On a completely related note, I already left some comments on how brilliant this fic is the first time I read it and it'd feel a little demented to just. Do that again. So I'm using this opportunity to emphatically reiterate how brilliant this fic is. I'm about halfway through it and yet again floored at how funny, insightful, well-written, in-character and truly, deeply, genuinely enjoyable it is. Thank you so much for sharing it with us!

Oh AND: your kind responses to my comments actually ended up really encouraging me to comment more! So thank you for that too :D

haha oops, i guess i didn't make it quite as easy as i thought i did! i was hesitant to name a piece in particular initially since we all have our preferences when it comes to these things and i wanted the focus to be on what was conveyed rather than the specifics. however i in my seventeen centuries on this earth have not found any other piece of music that more closely mimics a physical climax so obviously i had no choice but to use this personal favorite 😌 the interpretation that resembles Lena's most closely can be found on the playlist i made for the fic. i hope it does the version in your head justice, and if not, please feel free to substitute your own!

also (and most importantly) you are SO generous! i appreciate these comments immensely and i'm determined to one day make my way through the honestly shameful stack of unanswered ones still sitting in my ao3 inbox. thank you!

[viharistenno]

@purlturtle made me do this :D Thanks for including me in fandom funsies :)

rules: make a poll of five of your all time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. see which character is everyone's fave.

Gonna do only one per fandom because I have mercy :)

I think I have dozens. What about you? @ladydedlock @lonely-night @confusedspaceotter @noelevangilinecarson @grandhike and anyone else who feels like it I want to know your faaaavs!

[waytooinvested]

i must say your take on Non Nocere was genius thank you so much for it!

It truly makes so much more sense for the characters! I would love to hear some more of your ideas!

What would be another part of the story that you would change if given the opportunity?

HI! This is my first Supergirl ask, I am honoured and excited :D (apparently a little TOO excited because this got kind of long and rambly, but I'm going to post it all anyway because you've started me off now. I am however resisting the urge to add yet more 'and another things', which I absolutely could).

Thank you so much! I feel like there were so many ways they could have taken Lena’s post-reveal arc that would have made more sense than Non Nocere. I think it would also have been interesting to have something with more genuine moral ambiguity than ‘brainwash the entire world’ which, while framed in a way that had clearly good intentions is still… brainwashing the entire world. Lena just seems too much in favour of personal autonomy/individual rights to make that decision for the entire planet (and frankly too smart not to see the glaring flaws with that plan?). I *could* see her inventing a device that does what Non Nocere does, but on an individual scale. Ie you can put this thing on and be freed from your worst impulses.

Her fear of her own darkness and her struggle not to be like the rest of her family would tie in well, and could even help justify the decision to work with Lex again if he claimed to want to wear one when it was done. It would be a way for her to (think she could) have her family back but to get it RIGHT this time, and Lena craves affection so desperately, whatever she claims, Lex would be able to feed her the spin she needed to believe it (but unbeknownst to Lena would find a way to make a fake that gave off an apparently genuine reading but doesn’t do anything, so he could use it to manipulate her into believing his intentions were genuinely good and get her to help him with something that turned out to be Extremely Nefarious). The wearing of the device would be like a badge of trustworthiness to let her mark out people she could get close to without fear of betrayal.

She’d make them a requirement for her staff. Her friends. Anyone who wanted to be in her life. It’s something that could be horribly abused and no doubt would be in all sorts of ways that would make Supergirl & friends oppose it, but that would bring in the conflict, and the resulting fight would make more sense to me.

You could even have a scene where Lena goes to Kara all tentatively excited and hopeful and says that she has found a way to forgive her and they can be friends again! She just has to wear this, because then Lena will know she can trust her. And Kara refuses. Of course she has good reason to refuse – Supergirl can hardly wear something that won’t allow her to lie or hurt anyone when she has a secret identity and her whole thing is beating up villains… but Lena takes it as an admission that their whole friendship really was a lie and spirals further into heartbreak/anger/despair/Lex’s clutches (because HE wore one for her. Her murderous, Superman obsessed, apparently irredeemable brother did this for her and yet her paragon of hope shining example of integrity and goodness supposed best friend refused. And now Lena is questioning everything she thought she knew about who is really on her side).

ANYWAY you asked what other part of the story I would change and I just gave you a really long splurge of a DIFFERENT change for the SAME part of the story. Sorry!!

Honestly there are so many bits I would change...

The very first one that comes to mind is Kara’s big identity reveal at the end, because what WAS that? After they repeatedly hammered home how dangerous it would be and how it would inevitably lead to everyone she loved being targeted, suddenly all of that is just… fine? No need to address it at all? Even though there is now a small child involved who just got kidnapped and used against them REALLY recently?

I would have loved to see her embracing her Kryptonian heritage and living much more authentically with the people who are important to her instead of making a big public announcement. Like actually talking about where she came from and teaching her friends/family her language and culture so she can participate in things that are important to her with people she cares about, which feels far more genuinely meaningful than having strangers recognise her as Supergirl in the street (for example, trying to replicate food she misses from home - food is Kara's love language, this is something that could be such a wonderful way for her to reconnect with her past and have fun introducing her new family to it. Teaching them Kryptonian songs and getting them all to try them out at karaoke night! Hilarity and mispronunciations and a blending of all the things that have come to make her who she is ensue. Telling Esme bedtime stories and teaching her games she remembers from her own childhood, so she feels less like those family traditions are lost, because they don’t HAVE to be. And also Lena being super interested in learning about Kryptonian courtship rituals for... no particular reason...)

I could even see her coming out more generally as an alien, but she could do that without coming out *as Supergirl*. If nothing else, I feel like she would really struggle with having that much fame in her day to day life, because rather than letting her just live freely as her authentic self, announcing herself as Supergirl would put her under a microscope. Every single aspect of her life would be open for public scrutiny and judgement, and she’d find herself with far less freedom than she has as just Kara Danvers. It would be devastating to her life. It would put her and her loved ones in danger. It would be a really, really bad idea.

(also the fact that Cat made her editor in chief when before that she was probably one of the least experienced reporters who was hardly ever even at work because she was constantly nipping off to save the city, citing herself as a source etc… but that’s a whole other issue and is at least something she could have got to in time, after actually doing the work).

This is getting long now, so… probably enough for now? Thank you so much for the ask!!

[thatonebirdwrites]

Figuring out how to weave everything into this, have it be coherent, and flow well was difficult.

I also was reluctant to edit for a bit due to how painful it is to look at the core memories that cause fracturing. I can't say whether I was experimented on like Lena (though the conversion therapy I endured could be deemed an experiment I suppose. I recall little of it thanks to my alters), but other fucked up things in my childlhood appear as allegories in this tale.

But at the same time, writing this story has been very cathartic.

EXCERPT (from a random point in this chapter):

“Kara?” Lena’s voice breaks through the memory. “You’ve been standing there awhile. You okay?”

Linda has never fronted for Kara, and it feels strange to have a body again. Energy ripples through her limbs, and an odd smell lingers in her nostrils. Fog simmers like stew in her mind, unlike the more usual open nature of Kara's psyche. It disorients her.

She looks down at the book in her hand, and its title — Mythologies of the World. A title her Alex would never have let her read. He considered such things a folly, softening and ruining the mind. She flips through its pages, and many drawings decorate the chapters, each one a unique style. Art confuses her, and she’s not sure of what the imagery means. Alex taught her that everything holds meaning if one looks deep enough.

She tucks the book back and turns to Lena, who watches her carefully, her posture oddly tense.

“Lena.” She tilts her head to examine the other woman. Why is she tense? Linda struggles to recall what Kara-Z and D has said to Lena, but she’d been trying to meditate. To not leak, and yet she has leaked. Leaked enough to take control. It is disorienting. “I saw you many months ago. You were very sad.” Her accent pulses through her words, despite trying to sound more like the two Karas. English words do not sit well on her tongue, and she is not used to this body. It feels heavier than she recalled her own feeling.

Lena’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? Who are you then?”

Linda holds up her hands. “Please, I mean no harm. I visit you on a day when Kara was out of town. I was in disguise. I did not want to upset you, so I played her role. I only wished to ease your sadness.”

She narrows her eyes. “Are you talking about that surprise visit when you were supposed to be in Africa?”

“I do not know where Kara was supposed to be.” Linda drops her hands to her side. “My Alex took me to America, so I could understand their corruption.”

“Your Alex?” Lena repeats. “As in Alex Danvers…?”

Linda shakes her head. “No. That is not my Alex.” She’s not sure where Kara-Z or Kara-D are in their mind. Her memories sizzle with violet lightning, and her emotions a simmering cauldron of confusion. Z and D feel far away, like they've been cast into a dimensional fog; it is unlike all other times since her fusion. She does not know what this means. “No, my Alex is — was your brother.”

Lena breathes in sharply. Her shoulders tremble, and a hint of caution and fear trickle into her tone, despite the neutral expression on her face. “What — what do you mean?”

Linda stays by the bookcase, even though she wants to comfort her somehow. “I am sorry. Kara-Z often says I must be less abrupt.” She rubs her eyebrow as a headache pulses in tune with her confusion. “I call myself Linda. I am Red Daughter. I was Kaznia’s hope. Alex trained me.” She slides her finger down the spine of the mythology book. “He would not approve of this book.” She taps it. “But I want to read it. May I read it?”

“Of course.” Lena carefully tucks a bookmark into her book and stands. She lays it on the table and walks to Linda’s side. “You’re welcome to read whatever you desire, Linda.” A sad smile graces her lips. “And I understand what it’s like to be trained by Lex. He’s…” Lena struggles for a long moment as if fighting herself. “… he’s always been dangerous. I’m sorry you dealt with him.”

Linda picks the book off the shelf and holds it against her chest. “He called you a traitor.”

Lena lets out what sounds like a mixture between sob and laugh. “I fraternized with Kara Danvers, which apparently Lex knew was Supergirl.”

[goldenempyrean]

A Luthor's Vulnerability

〚 Notes - Hello, hello! So @ekowolf (I hope you don't mind the tag) requested to do a pt2 to this fic with some Kara and Alex looking after Lena which I thought was a super cute idea so I hope this suffices :D 〛

〚 Pairing - Supercorp 〛

〚 Summary - It's the day after the conference and Lena isn't feeling any better so Kara takes it upon herself (with some extra help) to look after her. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1500 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

〘 Part 1 〙

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When Lena woke up the next day she was in bed, not where she had previously fallen asleep on the sofa the previous night and judging by the sleeping blonde nuzzled into her side she deduced that Kara had carried her here. 

She tried to sit up but stopped at the overwhelming woozy feeling nestling in her head, even just moving sent the room orbiting around her. Lena let out a soft groan, feeling the throbbing ache in her head intensify. She winced, trying to remember what had happened the night before, but everything was a blurry haze. All she remembered if that the press confer- 

Oh god. The conference?! Ignoring the jolt of aches it sent through her, Lena quickly sat upright and reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone from the charger (again, she had Kara to thank for that) before frantically googling her name followed by CatCo.  

To her surprise the majority of articles and news reports which appeared weren’t slandering her name, mocking her or even criticising her judgement. Instead they were sympathetic, highlighting her dedication to work despite clearly being unwell. 

As Lena scrolled through the articles, she couldn't help but let out a small sneeze. It was followed by another, and then a third, each one making her feel more miserable. She felt Kara stir beside her, and with a soft groan, the blonde slowly opened her eyes. 

“Lena? You okay?” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she sat up beside the ravenette. 

She nodded, “Kara, it’s fine now. I’m fine now.” Her attempt at dismissing her concerns may have been a little more convincing if she hadn’t trailed off into a couple of raspy coughs which had ultimately upset her sinuses and sent her sneezing loudly down into elbow. 

"Bless you, you're such a fibber Lena, you can’t fool me.” Kara sighed as she raised her hand to Lena's forehead to check her temperature. “Still really warm and coming from me that’s not a good thing, we should get you some medicine.” 

Lena hesitated, her stubbornness wrestling with her weariness. "You don’t need to. I'm used to taking care of myself, Kara. I've never had anyone look after me when I was sick," she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability. 

Lillian certainly wasn’t a good mother. Sure, when her darling, prized Lex was ill, she’d be sure to swarm him with affection and love, but for Lena? Hell no. She’d be given a box of tissues and be told to deal with it silently. There was no room for weakness in the Luthor household. As such, she’d leant to fend for herself, but just because she could do it, didn’t mean she was good at it. It was only a few years ago that she’d neglected herself to the point of developing pneumonia and even still, she’d worked through it. 

Kara's concern softened her gaze as she gently cupped Lena's flushed cheek. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore, sweetheart. I want to take care of you, so please, let me?" Kara's warmth and sincerity melted the walls Lena had built around herself and the Luthor rested her head against her shoulder. 

As Lena leaned into Kara's comforting embrace, she felt a sense of relief wash over her, finally allowing herself to be vulnerable with someone who genuinely cared for her well-being. It was so different from what she had been previously been through but it felt amazing. Kara smiled softly, brushing a few strands of hair away from Lena's forehead. 

"Okay, maybe I don’t feel the best.” Lena gave in, muffling a cough into her elbow sharply. 

Kara's tender touch extended to Lena's back as she guided her to lie down comfortably, making sure her frame was supported with a pillow, "I know you don’t love so just rest for a moment, and I'll get you some medicine and warm tea," Kara said with a reassuring smile before leaving her with a soft kiss as she left the room briefly. 

As Lena lay there, she couldn't help but feel touched by Kara's caring nature. It was such a contrast to the cold and distant environment she had grown up in. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by a sudden tickle in her nose, and before she could react, a loud sneeze escaped her, followed by another one. 

"Bless you," Kara said as she returned with a cup of hot tea, medicine and a box of tissues. "Looks like you're in need of these." 

Lena chuckled softly, feeling a little embarrassed. "Thanks Kara, you’re so good to me.” 

Despite taking the medicine as the day progressed, Lena's fever continued to rise, leaving her feeling weaker and more miserable. She was shivering one moment and sweating the next, her body seemingly unable to regulate its temperature. Kara could see the distress in Lena's eyes, and her heart ached at just how helpless she was in the situation. 

So, she gave in and did the only thing left, Kara waited until her exhausted girlfriend had fallen back asleep before picking up her phone and dialling Alex’s number. 

“Hey Kara.” The warm, familial voice already made her feel reassured. 

“Alex, Lena’s fever still won’t go down and it’s been hours, and I read on Web MD that that’s really bad and I don’t want her brain to melt or I-“ Kara spilled out into a hopeless ramble before being cut off by a small laugh on the other side of the phone, “Alex- Alex, why are you laughing at me? This is serious.” 

“Kara, honey. Lena’s gonna be fine. She probably just has the Flu or something. First of all, don’t ever look on the internet for advice, it’d tell you that you ‘likely need brain surgery’ for a simple headache.” Alex explained, easing her sister’s worries, “But if her fever won’t break then she probably needs a stronger medicine, do you want me to come round and drop one off?” 

The blonde felt her nerves relax a little, “That’d be amazing, thank you.” 

About an hour or so later, Alex arrived at the apartment holding two small white carrier bags. Kara opened the door for her and welcomed her in with a hug with was warmly returned before the pair put the bags on the table. 

“There’s some medicine in here and some of those gel patches things which go on your forehead, that should help a little.” She explained before handing the other bag to Kara, “I bought some soup as well from the place you both like, it just needs reheating. There's potstickers in there for you too because I’m guessing you haven’t eaten today.” 

Kara’s eyes lit up at the mention potstickers, “Oh my god, Alex you’re amazing.” She excitedly blurted before going over to the microwave to reheat the soup, she could’ve used her heat vision but the last thing she wanted to do was make it to hot and burn her poor girlfriend. 

As Kara waited for the soup, Alex went to go check up on Lena in the other room. 

“Hey you,” Alex kept her voice soft, being mindful of the headache she probably had as she came to sit on the edge of the bed where she was laid, “Kara said you’re not feeling well, how are you feeling?” 

“Shitty.” 

Alex laughed at her stark response, “Yeah I can see that, I brought some stuff round for you, Kara’s just reheating the soup.”  

Lena managed a weak smile at Alex's presence. "Thanks Alex, I feel terrible, but Kara's taking good care of me, but she did ask me earlier if I felt ‘like your brain is going to drip out’ so I think this is a new leap for her.” 

Alex shook her head as she tried to hide her smile, “Yeah that sounds like her. But as far I can see your brains haven’t leaked out all over the pillows, so I think you’ll be okay.” She said, ignoring Lena’s protests when she began cleaning up the mess of crumpled tissues and cough-drop wrappers littering the bed, “We just need to get your fever settled.”  

As if on cue, Kara came in with a small tray, Lena’s soup and the medicine sat neatly on it. “Alex brought some supplies.” She said, shooting her sister an appreciative look, “Can you sit up for me darling?” Kara asked as she came to sit beside Lena, settling the tray on her knees. 

Lena mustered a small smile, touched by Kara's caring nature. She took a spoonful of soup and slowly sipped it, feeling the warmth spread through her body. "This is so good.” She murmured softly before sipping another spoonful, “Thanks you two, really, I’ve never been treated like this before.” 

Alex gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, get used to it, because Kara and I are here for you now. We're family, and family takes care of each other." 

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[lesbians4kurt]

when you know, you know

happy holidays, @luckynumber4 @ronald-speirs @lena-basilone idk which one to tag :3 i was ur secret santa, here to feed u sledgefu!!!!!! i hope u like it :D

word count: 13.4k

summary: Eugene, a burnt-out Ph.D. candidate, finds himself carpooling with Snafu, a complete stranger, on their way to Burgie's wedding.

The humid evening air of May had long since swept over Auburn as Eugene pages through countless notes, the sound of rustling paper permeating his apartment. It’s month three of researching for his Ph.D. dissertation, and although he knows this is only the beginning, that in a year he’ll most likely still be working on it, he’s already experiencing all the warning signs of burnout. He’s managed these past few months to follow the strict schedule he’d created, keeping himself fully on track with every scrap of discipline he possesses, but an itching restlessness had begun burrowing itself in the back of his brain last week, and his concentration has been off ever since. He needs to find a new angle, take a little break, and approach the daunting process with new eyes. He just needs to hold out for another week: Burgie’s wedding. 

Burgie is a close friend from Eugene’s undergrad days, they had even shared an apartment for a few semesters. They meet up every few months for a drink and catch up, texting every other week or so. Eugene wishes they could meet more frequently, but he hardly has time to see his family, let alone friends. Burgie had gotten engaged about a year ago, and Eugene is looking forward to his upcoming wedding as a chance to wind down. He’s happy for Burgie too, of course; no one deserves happiness as much as him, the most kindhearted person Eugene knows. 

Eugene closes his eyes and sighs. He can’t stay focused at all. He just needs to hang on to his last thread of motivation for a little longer, but every task seems impossible. He sits back in his chair and rubs a hand across his face, figuring he’d close his eyes for a moment before continuing. Maybe he’d take a break for a snack in a minute, drink some water, turn on a meditation… 

Bzzz. 

Eugene jolts awake 40 minutes later, curled up in his chair, back stiff. He silently thanks whoever is texting him. That was stupid, if he had kept sleeping he might not have woken up until his morning alarm. He almost drops his phone trying to unlock it and squints his tired eyes as he tries to read the screen. Weirdly, the text is from Burgie. It’s well past midnight and Eugene has never known him to stay up so late. If it was someone else, he might ignore the text, but he decides to open it.

Hey, call me when you see this.

Oh? Eugene’s skin prickles with worry and he immediately presses the call button. 

Burgie spares Eugene’s nerves by picking up immediately. “Hello?”

“Hey, what did you need?” Eugene asks, hoping nothing has gone wrong with the wedding.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.” Burgie’s cadence is upbeat, melting away the icy worry that had frozen over Eugene’s chest.

“Sure, anything,”

“Okay, so, one of my best friends lives in New Orleans, and his car gave out on him a few days ago. I was wondering if you could pick him up on your way here. I assume you’re driving?” 

Burgie’s right, he would be driving. Eugene has had an extreme phobia of airplanes ever since childhood, making the numerous family vacations he went on a humiliating ordeal. He would get sick or start hyperventilating a few minutes after take-off like clockwork. Logically, he knows he’s safe, but fear isn’t logical. The combination of heights and confined space is just too much for him to handle. Despite his phobia, his mother insists on going on trips that require a plane ride and is offended that he refuses to go on these vacations in adulthood.

“Yeah, I’ll be driving,” Eugene half chuckles before getting more serious. “So, who is he?”

“His name’s Snafu. Well, it’s Merriell Shelton, but we all called him Snafu, anyway,” Burgie says, a fondness so strong taking over his voice that Eugene can recognize it even over the phone. “He can’t really afford a plane ticket. I know it’s probably out of your way, but it would mean a lot to me if you could drive him.”

Eugene has to keep himself from sighing. He knows this detour will add about an hour or so to his drive, and he’ll have to drive over eight hours from New Orleans to Fort Worth with some guy he doesn’t even know. What will they talk about? Will it be awkward silence all the way? Will he have to drive him back too?

“Of course, Burgie. I’ll drive him for you,” Eugene ends up saying before thinking about it any further. The favor is simple, really, and he wouldn’t want Burgie to be missing one of his best friends at his own wedding. Plus, Burgie has been an amazing friend to Eugene, never giving up on him no matter how busy he is and never letting things become awkward between them. 

“Thanks, Eugene! Really, thank you.” Burgie sounds elated, putting a soft smile on Eugene’s face. “I can’t wait to see you. We’ve barely talked since you started your dissertation research.”

“I’ve barely talked to my own mother since I started,” Eugene jokes. “And you know how she is about phone calls.”

Burgie laughs and Eugene is reminded of how much he misses just talking to him.

They chat for a few more minutes before Burgie decides he needs to get to bed. After hanging up the phone, Eugene stretches before standing up and pacing for a few minutes. That short nap and talking to Burgie rejuvenated him, and despite it being past one in the morning, he decides he has enough energy to continue working for another hour before going to sleep. He pours himself a glass of water and grabs a few crackers before sitting back down at his desk, resuming. 

The next few days pass similarly: Eugene eats every meal at his desk as he researches and researches and researches, staying up late every night. He leaves his apartment every morning to meet with his professors or attend a class, but otherwise, he spends every waking moment on his research, his newfound motivation from the phone call sticking to him. He’s almost disappointed now that he’ll be leaving for the wedding soon as it will interrupt his productivity, but he reminds himself that upon his return he’ll probably be even more inspired. 

Four days before the wedding, Eugene realizes he hasn’t bought gifts yet and spends six frantic hours online shopping. If there’s one thing he’ll be eternally bad at it’s picking out gifts; he spends hours overthinking every purchase only to feel the gift he chooses is shallow and impersonal. Of course, this time proves no different. He buys Burgie and his bride-to-be, Florence, a set of matching watches and a bottle of champagne. He knows people normally buy small kitchen appliances or home decor, but he eats TV dinners every night and the white walls of his apartment are blank, so he’s not very experienced in either of those departments. Plus, he has no idea what they already own or what they might need. As he plugs in his credit card information and confirms his purchase, he sighs and thanks God for two-day shipping. He lays awake in bed that night wondering if his gift properly conveys his love and appreciation for Burgie, and frets about it until the early hours of the morning before deciding to write a heartfelt card for good measure, drifting off to sleep. 

The following night, Eugene finds himself increasingly curious about this Snafu character he’ll be driving with for eight hours. Merriell “Snafu” Shelton, huh? He bites his lip as he opens his computer, quickly googling the name. The only relevant result is from one of those sketchy phonebook websites, and he immediately feels stupid and guilty. But not guilty enough to stop him from stalking Burgie’s Facebook for any signs of the guy. Again he finds nothing, and the wave of shame hits him again. He should be working anyway, but his curiosity is slowly morphing into anxiety and he really wishes he had asked Burgie a few more questions. He calms himself by rationalizing: Burgie wouldn’t be friends with some insane weirdo. Everything will be fine. He closes the tabs he was using for stalking and continues his work.

Two days before the wedding is the day Eugene decides to depart. He knows his mother will be upset if she finds out that he drove right through Mobile without stopping by, so he’ll visit his parents first and spend the night there. Tomorrow he’ll leave Mobile, drive two hours to New Orleans, and then drive eight hours to Fort Worth, so he better be well rested. He spends his morning and early afternoon packing up a suitcase and waiting for his parcels to arrive in the mail, practically jumping the postman when he rounds the corner. He wraps them carefully in gold paper before placing them in a gift bag, then struggles to write a heartfelt card for about 40 minutes. He’s ready to leave the house at 3 PM and packs the gifts into his backseat, perhaps being overly cautious when he buckles the bag in with the seatbelt. As he sits down in the driver’s seat, he thinks he should probably call his mother to let her know he’s coming. He quickly shakes this thought out of his head, knowing that any phone conversation with her gets strung out for several hours and ends with him nearly tearing his hair out with stress and annoyance. Instead, he shoots his father a text as a warning and puts his phone on silent in case his mother ends up calling him in response before starting his car and taking off. He’s the type of driver others get angry being behind, the type people assume are old ladies and scream at angrily as they pass. He likes to say he’s meticulous and cautious, but any passenger he’s ever had groans at his slow pace. It occurs to him that Snafu will probably complain about it too, and the thought somehow embarrasses him even though he hasn’t even met Snafu yet.

He arrives in Mobile four hours later, mentally preparing himself to face his parents as he pulls into the driveway. The house of his childhood stands before him in all its grandeur. It’s an old manor house built in the 1800s, with the rest of Mobile slowly rising around it. It stands only one story high, but to Eugene, it’s always been an imposing structure that never quite felt like home. There’s no denying it’s a beautiful house; tall willow trees frame the wraparound porch and its accompanying Greek revival-style pillars, and large flowerbeds color the ground below. A large, freshly mowed yard stands between Eugene and the front door. He takes a deep, shaky breath before taking the first steps. He never likes visiting here, everything is so suffocating.

As he approaches the large, mahogany door he has the same debate with himself he always does when he comes here. Does he knock or just walk in? The further removed he becomes from living here the more the answer to that question becomes knock, but his mother always makes a comment about him knocking, about how this is his home. Regardless, he decides to knock and waits anxiously as he hears rushed footsteps approach the door. It swings open aggressively and there his mother is, a huge smile splitting her face in two, every tooth on display. Before he can even tell himself to smile back, she pulls him into a tight embrace. He drops his bag to the floor before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her and squeezing his eyes shut. It begins.

“I’m just so happy to see you, Eugene,” she gasps into his ear, and for a moment he’s scared she’s going to cry. She pulls away from him and brings her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks.

“I missed you too, Mom,” Eugene says sheepishly. It’s not that he doesn’t. She can just… be too much. Too hot and cold.

She rubs his arms a few times before taking his hand and leading him through the door. “Well, let’s get you inside. You look exhausted. I can tell you haven’t been eating properly, Eugene. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

He doesn’t reply and merely lets himself be dragged inside, resigning himself to his fate. She’d probably make him eat three meals worth of food now. 

“You didn’t have to knock, Eugene. You’ve come home,” she says, clasping his hand a little tighter as she speaks, leading him through the hall. 

Eugene suppresses an eye roll in response. Of course, that comment. It’s like clockwork.

She stops once they enter the dining room where his father is seated at the head, reading a newspaper as he waits for dinner. A genuine smile softens Eugene’s face when he sees him.

His father puts down the newspaper. “Hey, Fritz!” he says, standing and making his way up to Eugene to properly greet him. Fritz is an old nickname from when Eugene was a little boy. He’s not sure where it came from, or when it started, but his father has affectionately called him that for as long as he can remember.

“Hey, Dad,” Eugene says softly, pulling his father into a hug.

“It’s good to see you, son.”

They hold the hug for a good minute, just swaying back and forth with the occasional pat on the back. If this house isn’t home, his father’s embrace is. He’s filled with a sense of comfort and ends the hug with the strength he needs to get through the rest of the visit.

“Dinner’s just about ready, Eugene. Have a seat and I’ll be out with it in a minute,” Mary Frank says, rubbing his arm again before walking off toward the kitchen.

Eugene turns to his father, who holds out a hand toward the table. They both take a seat, Eugene to his father’s left, the same place he always sat as a boy. His mother will sit across from him to his father’s right. The table is already set and Eugene feels a little bad that he interrupted their dinner preparations, or that he didn’t arrive early enough to help. 

“So, Fritz,” his father begins. “How’s the research?”

“It’s been… overwhelming,” Eugene replies earnestly. “I enjoy it and everything but… The fact that it’s been three months and I’ve barely even started…”

“I know, it’s a long road ahead of you. I remember those days myself.” His father reaches out and places a reassuring hand on Eugene’s own. “I know you’ll make it through. Just keep persevering.”

Eugene’s soft smile from earlier returns as his eyes almost glaze over with tears. He hadn’t realized, but he’d needed to hear those words. Especially from his father. To feel like someone was proud of him.

The moment is gone when his mother returns, placing a shepherd's pie in the middle of the table. “I wish I’d known you were coming earlier, I would’ve cooked more,” she says. “We need to fatten you back up. Remember when your brother first lived on his own? He didn’t eat right and almost landed himself in the hospital!” She’s exaggerating. Sure, Eddie hadn’t been eating properly, but he just felt lethargic and lightheaded. He hadn’t even gone to the doctor, let alone the hospital.

“Mom, I’ve lived on my own for the good part of a decade now,” Eugene deadpans, pushing his food around with his fork.

“Has it really been that long? And still no girlfriend?”

Oh. Now she’d struck a chord.

“Mom,” Eugene says firmly. “We talked about this.”

She doesn’t look up at him, merely takes a bite of her dinner as she answers, “Well, I haven’t accepted it.”

“Now, Mary Frank–” his father begins.

Eugene all but throws his fork down on his plate. “I’m gay,” he seethes out through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, do you have to make an argument out of everything, Eugene?!” She slams a hand on the table, making her plate clatter in its place. “Am I not allowed to hope for your happiness?”

“But you’re not! And you started it!” Eugene can feel his face flushing as his hands clench painfully into fists. “I…” He makes brief eye contact with his father and wills himself to calm down, knowing this isn’t worth it. She’ll never understand. She doesn’t want to. “I can’t… I’m gonna go out to Deacon’s spot.”

Eugene wipes his mouth with a napkin and has to force himself not to throw it down on the table. As he stands, his mother calls out to him to finish eating, but he ignores her as he makes his way out the back door. He shuts the door behind him and takes a moment to close his eyes and enjoy the evening air. The sun is setting, painting the sky a beautiful pink, and he can smell the bay in the breeze. Even if he doesn’t miss this house, he does miss Mobile. The flatlands and plains of northern Alabama just don’t hold the same charm as the gulf. He turns his gaze from the sky to a group of willow trees across the expanse of the backyard and begins walking toward them. As he approaches, a small bench comes into view, along with a sizable rock that protrudes from the ground: Deacon’s grave.

Deacon was Eugene’s childhood dog, a birthday present from his father the day he turned nine. He was the best dog anyone could have asked for. He slept in Eugene’s bed, comforted him when he was sad, and followed along when he went on bike rides. Leaving him behind when he went to college was one of the hardest things Eugene’s ever had to do, no matter how silly that sounds. Deacon was hit by a car two months into that first semester and Eugene was devastated, not leaving his dorm for anything but class. Burgie spent weeks trying to cheer him up enough to go out and have fun again. Eugene went home a few weekends later, and by then his father had buried Deacon under the willow trees. He spent nearly the entire visit just sitting at the grave. The next time he visited, his father had placed a bench there. Eugene’s never thanked him for it, an unspoken favor with unspoken gratefulness. 

“Hello, boy, it’s me,” Eugene whispers to the ground at his feet. He sits on his haunches for a moment, stroking the grass in front of the stone with a hesitant hand, before sitting on the bench. He lets silence overtake him and tries not to think of the argument at the table. He wishes he hadn’t risen to his mother’s comment. He wishes she hadn’t said anything at all. He wishes he never came. Guilt burns in his chest for admitting that thought, but he knows it’s true. Everything will be fine. He can go to bed early, and tomorrow he’ll be on his way. It’s fine.

Too soon, Eugene hears the back door swing open and footsteps approaching. When he looks up, he sees his father, and his shoulders drop a little. Small mercies. 

“Fritz… Eugene, I’m sorry for what your mother said back there,” he says, sitting down beside his son. “I just spoke to her, and–”

“It’s okay, Dad,” mutters Eugene. “I know how she feels. It’s never going to change, no matter how many talks you have with her.”

“I’m not sure that’s fair, son. She’s making progress–”

“No,” he interrupts. “No, Dad. It’s been years. I don’t want any excuses anymore. All I want... All I want is for her to just love me. Love me without all these conditions.” Eugene’s voice cracks a bit on the last sentence, and his eyes lock on Deacon’s grave, not daring to look at his father in case the tears in his eyes are obvious.

They sit in silence. Eugene hears his father’s mouth open a few times as though to speak, but it closes again after a few seconds each time. Ultimately, he places a hand on Eugene’s shoulder in comfort, and they just sit in each other’s presence for a few moments. Eugene feels numb. The tears have gone from his eyes and an empty cavity opens in his chest like quicksand. His father couldn’t deny anything. A small part of him, an inch of his being, had hoped that he’d been wrong, that he’d just been misunderstanding his mother, that she loves him fully and has his best interest at heart, just with a funny way of showing it. But no, he was right all along, and this silence is all the proof he needs. 

As the silence sinks into awkwardness, his father squeezes his shoulder and stands up from the bench. “Give me a minute, I’ll be back with a check for you.”

“Dad, that’s really not necessary. I–”

“Just let me do this.” His father turns away without another word, walking back toward the house.

If there’s one thing Eugene dislikes about his father, it’s his generosity. His parents are paying what scholarships and grants don’t cover for his education, and his father insists on paying half the rent for his apartment. Eugene has tried to tell them that between his stipend, tutoring, and being a teaching and research assistant, he can pay his own way now, but they refuse to listen, especially his father. He’s a grown man, and it makes it uncomfortable to think he’s still dependent on his parents. 

His father returns in a few minutes, check in hand, and Eugene reluctantly accepts it but makes a mental note to shred it without depositing it later. He doesn’t want to take any more of his father’s money. Afterward, they say a tense goodnight, and Eugene finds himself staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. It’s early, only around 9 PM, and he feels restless, especially in this environment. The room is mostly barren, picked apart over the years. All the books on the shelf had been donated or taken to his apartment, all his old clothes given away, and some of his furniture sold in a yard sale. The room he used to spend all day in couldn’t make him more uncomfortable. 

Eugene tries to concentrate on falling asleep, knowing he has a long day ahead of him. He tosses and turns for what seems like hours before his thoughts land on Snafu. Oh, yeah. He almost forgot he’s supposed to pick him up tomorrow. Will they get along? Being trapped in a confined space with someone you can’t stand for eight hours seems grim, so he hopes for the best. What does he look like? What did he get Burgie as a gift? Will it make Eugene’s gift look stupid? These thoughts carry him to sleep.

Eugene’s mother wakes him the next morning, opening the bedroom door and calling out his name. He sits up and rubs his eyes before making sleepy eye contact with her. She gives him a weak smile before walking away. He groggily pries himself out of bed before getting ready for the day. It’s early, just past 6 AM, meaning he’d slept for maybe eight hours after all of that tossing and turning. He can’t fathom how his mother wakes up this early every day. She’s always had this habit for as long as he can remember, waking up with the sun and making breakfast. He can smell it now, the savory scent of eggs frying as he dresses himself. The thought of sitting down to eat with his mother is daunting after the events of the previous night, but he figures if she’s dead set on pretending nothing is wrong, he can play along.

Eugene greets his mother as he sits down for a breakfast of over-easy eggs and cheesy grits. It’s one of his favorites, and he figures maybe this is her way of apologizing. He’s grateful for the food, of course, but he has no appetite. Regardless, he takes a bite, determined to avoid giving the impression that he’s still upset. The two eat in silence until his father enters the room, sitting down at the table and pouring himself a mug of coffee. 

“Good morning,” his father greets, and the two murmur replies between bites of food. “Eugene, you mentioned in your text you’re headed to a wedding today?”

“Yeah, my friend Burgie’s wedding. From college,” says Eugene, staring down at his food. “He lives in Fort Worth, so it’s quite a ways.”

“Why didn’t you fly? It would’ve saved you some trouble,” his mother chimes in. She’s entirely serious and Eugene once again has to battle an eye roll.

“I’m terrified of flying, Mom,” he says flatly, taking a brief moment to close his eyes and quell the rising anger in his chest.

“You need to get over that childish fear, Eugene,” she almost snorts. “It’s a plane ride, not skydiving.”

“I felt like a drive,” asserts Eugene loudly. He bites back the argument that’s attempting to claw its way out of his throat and goes back to eating.

“Alright,” is all his mother says in reply, and the three of them lapse back into a silence that continues for the rest of the meal.

When 7 AM rolls around, Eugene decides it’s time for him to leave and is filled with relief. He can’t stand the stuffy atmosphere of this house for much longer. Even the idea of being in a car with a total stranger is more appealing than spending even one more minute in his mother’s company. He gathers his things and meets his parents at the door, bag in hand.

“Well, I’ll be off,” he says, discomfort clear in his voice. 

His father hugs him first. “I love you, son. See you soon.”

Eugene leans into the hug, calmed slightly by the embrace. “I love you too, Dad.”

Eventually, they separate, and Eugene is forced to face his mother, whose eyes appear to be filling with tears. She hugs him abruptly, sobbing into his shoulder, and he’s left frozen in place.

“Come visit more often, Eugene. Please,” she whispers, a fist full of Eugene’s shirt, squeezing him so hard it hurts. “I love you.”

He’s not sure how to react and merely rubs her back, forcing out a numb, “I love you too.”

They say their final goodbyes, Eugene’s mother still sobbing, now in his father’s arms. He gives them a wave and steps outside, quickly shutting the door behind him. His stress is immediately alleviated after leaving his mother’s presence, and he is left with a bittersweet longing for human connection. For someone who will understand. He finds solace, however, in the bright morning sky as he steps back across that large yard, toward his car. Time to get this shit done.

Eugene opens his texts from Burgie and plugs Snafu’s address into the GPS on his phone. Once he begins, he can fully concentrate on driving, still at his cautious snail’s pace. Focusing on the road and the directions keeps him from thinking about the visit with his parents, his mother’s crying face, and how the two of them will never understand each other. Well, maybe he thinks about it a little and has to shake the thought from his head, but he mostly focuses on driving. 

The drive goes smoothly, except for when Eugene struggles to stave off a panic attack crossing over Lake Ponchartrain. He hates driving over any body of water, let alone on the five-and-a-half-mile-long, 30-foot-high Twin Span Bridge. He pants for air as he inches forward toward the high-rise section, cars beeping behind him. His sweaty palms clench the steering wheel tightly as the road elevates beneath him, gritting his teeth. Once he’s over the hump, he breathes a sigh of relief and feels a bit better about the remainder of the bridge. He drives on smoothly but wishes the water would stop reflecting the sun into his eyes. At least he wasn’t forced to go over the Causeway. He considers that bridge a deathtrap and has always avoided taking any route that includes the nearly 24-mile-long monstrosity.  

Once Eugene is past the bridge, he continues down I-10. He’s officially in New Orleans East. Slowly, the area around the road transforms from unkempt trees and shrubs to a neighborhood. Duplexes with chainlink fences roll by, some surrounded by empty lots. The area had clearly never fully recovered from Katrina all those years ago, as Eugene remembers taking a day trip to an amusement park that was in the area as a child. The GPS announces that he’s arriving at his destination on the right, and he pulls into the driveway. The house is identical to many others he’s passed by, with white panels that could use cleaning and a porch covered in chipping paint. A lump of anxiety rises in his throat, which he swallows with guilt. How childish to judge someone he doesn’t know based on where they live. He double-checks his text message from Burgie to confirm that this is indeed the correct house and to find out which apartment in the duplex is Snafu’s. Knocking on the wrong door would embarrass Eugene so thoroughly that he might never recover, so it’s worth it to be sure.

After quelling his anxiety with a few deep breaths, Eugene steps out of his car and heads up the stairs of the porch, cringing as the steps creak loudly under his feet. He stands in front of Snafu’s door motionless for a second, gathering courage, before knocking. He waits and waits, ninety seconds passing with no response. He battles with himself internally on whether or not it’s too soon to knock again before deciding he has to as there’s been no noise from inside. He thumps the door louder and longer the second time around, hoping that doesn’t come off as rude. There’s no response again and Eugene begins to doubt himself. Maybe he had read the address wrong or the apartment number, or maybe he hadn’t been loud enough. Just as he raises a fist to knock again the door flies open and he jumps back, heart racing. 

The man at the door is approximately Eugene’s age, a few inches shorter with dark, curly hair. His eyes are squinted and his face is puffy, and his tan skin is on full display as he’s shirtless. Eugene’s knocking must have woken him from a deep sleep. He blinks slowly a few times before grumbling out, “Who the fuck are you?”

Eugene shuts his mouth, which had been left agape, and straightens himself out. “Um, I’m Eugene Sledge, Burgie’s friend. You’re Snafu, right? I’m here to pick you up.” He reaches out to shake hands but avoids eye contact. In fact, he avoids looking at the shirtless man altogether and feels his cheeks burning a dusty pink. He hopes he doesn’t seem like an idiot. God, why does he always have to make a fool of himself around attractive people?

Snafu looks down at Eugene’s outstretched hand for a moment but ignores it, instead replying, “Yeah, that’s me.” 

Eugene stands in silence for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets clumsily when he realizes his handshake has been rejected. Still staring at a spot behind Snafu, he waits for him to continue speaking. He doesn’t, and Eugene's skin crawls with discomfort. He clears his throat and makes accidental eye contact with Snafu, whose eyes are now wide, gazing directly at Eugene’s face with a smirk. Eugene’s mouth goes dry under that gaze, those piercing blue eyes making him feel small. He’s not sure whether Snafu’s smirk is playful or cruel, but either way, he’s sure the intention is to make him uncomfortable.

“Um, did Burgie not tell you I was coming?” Eugene finally says, licking his dry lips, not looking away from Snafu’s eyes. He feels trapped in the eye contact, almost hypnotized. 

“He did, I’m jus’ surprised you’re here so early,” Snafu replies. His smirk dissipates as he lets out a catlike yawn, fully exposing his angular jaw. 

Eugene swallows hard, finally looking away from Snafu’s face. “Well, um, long drive ahead of us,” he says. “Burgie wants to get together for dinner tonight anyway, so we should get going.”

“Okay.”

Before Eugene can even contemplate a reply, Snafu slams the door in his face. Not sure what to do, he reaches for the doorknob before realizing that’s probably a bad idea; he can’t just walk into the guy’s house. He hears a faint rummaging from inside and slowly presses an ear to the door, curiosity getting the better of him. Snafu must be packing up, and by the sound of it, he’s in a hurry, smashing things about. After a minute or two, the noise dissipates, and hasty footsteps take its place. Eugene jerks away from the door, nearly taking one too many steps backward and falling down the stairs behind him. As he regains his footing, the front door swings open, and he pretends to be examining one of the porch columns intently.

Snafu emerges, fully clothed now with a duffle bag over his shoulder, and raises an eyebrow as though Eugene is the crazy one. “Let’s fuckin’ go. I thought you were in a hurry or whatever,” he says, pushing past Eugene toward the car.

Eugene stares at his back, confounded at Snafu’s audacity. As he follows behind, he realizes this drive might be even worse than he realized. Out of every possibility he had considered, he never imagined Snafu being this rude. Or attractive, but mostly the rude part.

“Where should I put my stuff?” Snafu asks once Eugene reaches the car, waving his duffle bag in front of him. 

“Just a second,” Eugene says. “Let me pop the trunk.” He feels Snafu’s gaze on the back of his neck as he unlocks the door. He feels awkward like a kid having to read aloud in class. Can’t this guy look at anything else?

Snafu snorts. “You were standin’ a few yards away from your car the whole time an’ you still locked the door?”

Eugene just lets out a shaky fake laugh, not sure what to say. He’s an anxious person who locks his car when he pumps gas. He presses a button and hears the trunk pop before getting up out of the car.

“Typical,” says Snafu under his breath, and Eugene can hear the smirk on his lips. It’s like Snafu’s provoking him, but Eugene has no idea why. Maybe just to be an asshole.

Eugene helps him find a spot in the trunk for the duffle bag, having to shove aside his own giant suitcase. Once they finish, they get settled in the car, Eugene in the driver’s seat and Snafu sitting shotgun. As Eugene buckles in, he realizes Snafu didn’t seem to have a gift with him, unless it was in the duffle bag. Maybe he just got them a gift card. What if Burgie asked for no gifts and Eugene just forgot? The anxiety surrounding gift-giving consumes him for a second, and he even considers asking Snafu about it before reconsidering.  He discreetly turns to look at Snafu, who’s staring blankly ahead as he bites his thumbnail. Eugene shakes his head with a sigh, starting the car and the GPS route. Forget that notion he had about Burgie not being friends with any insane weirdos, there’s one in the seat right next to him.

Eugene backs out of the driveway and they begin the long drive to Fort Worth, the car filled with an awkward silence. After Snafu’s behavior at the house, Eugene hadn’t anticipated him keeping his mouth shut like this. The silence is crushing and unbearable and Eugene is almost tempted to start some small talk, but then figures that it might be for the best that they stay quiet. Snafu is off-putting and Eugene can’t read him at all, has no idea how to respond to him. Yeah, silence is best.

Around ten minutes into the drive, Eugene sees Snafu move in his peripheral vision, and the car radio begins playing. Snafu flips through the stations before landing on 90.7 and turning it up. The smooth beats of an RnB song fill the air and Snafu slumps in his seat.

“Hey,” snaps Eugene, glancing repeatedly from the road to Snafu. “I don’t like listening to the radio when I drive. It’s distracting.”

“I’ll turn it down real quiet,” Snafu says, hand already reaching for the dial.

“No, this is my car.” Eugene reaches over and turns the radio off himself, bumping Snafu’s hand out of the way. He can take some rudeness and maintain cordiality, but distracting him while driving is where Eugene draws the line. 

“Jesus, then, okay.”

They lapse into silence again, and, if he didn’t know any better, Eugene would say Snafu is pouting. He pulls his legs on the seat with him, hugging them with one arm, the other propping his head up as he stares intently out the window. As Eugene peeks at him, he realizes in horror that Snafu has taken off his shoes, but decides not to say anything. As long as he’s not being distracting, it doesn’t matter. Eugene just needs to get through this drive, then he can come up with some excuse later as to why he can’t drive Snafu back. Maybe he’ll say his mother is seriously ill or something.

“Listen,” Snafu starts, and Eugene almost jumps in his seat. “I can’t handle sittin’ here for eight hours in silence other than that damn GPS, so…”

Eugene groans internally as he realizes Snafu is about to make conversation. Great. “So, what?” he grunts in response.

Snafu snickers, puzzling Eugene. “How d’you know Burgie? Let’s start there.” Eugene doesn’t have to look to know that smirk is back.

Eugene sighs, resigning himself to his fate. There’s no way he can avoid talking now. “Um, we went to college together. What about you?”

“We served together when he was on active duty. Both got stationed in Australia,” Snafu says. Eugene should’ve guessed this. He’s been wondering how Burgie would’ve been such good friends with someone from a different state, especially someone this weird. The Marine Corps makes perfect sense. Burgie had attended Auburn on an ROTC scholarship and paid it back with four years of active duty service, meeting Florence along the way during his time in Australia. And Snafu, apparently.

“Wait, have you met Florence, then?” Eugene asks with genuine curiosity, the dread that had previously been present in his voice gone. “The timing was never right for me. I’ve gone to visit him and vice versa, but I didn’t get to meet her yet.”

“Oh yeah,” says Snafu. “I was there when they met. She’s real sweet, her and Burgie are perfect for each other.”

Eugene glances at him again and sees a soft, pure smile gracing Snafu’s face. The earnestness of it is startling, starkly contrasting with the grouchiness and arrogance of before. He’s beautiful.

Realizing he’s been staring, Eugene clears his throat and looks away. “I’m really glad Burgie met his person. He deserves it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Snafu says, and Eugene can feel his eyes again, but different this time. No smirk.

Silence returns, this time with a different flavor of awkwardness. Snafu is just staring at him, his body fully turned to face Eugene, and Eugene has no idea what to do. Snafu had been leading the conversation before, perhaps he’s now expecting Eugene to continue it?

Eventually, Eugene can’t take it anymore and caves. “So, um, what do you do?”

“I’m a truck driver,” Snafu answers. “Y’know, I just got home from four days on the road this morning. Y’woke me out of a dead sleep.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Eugene mumbles, cringing internally. “You can sleep now if you want…”

“Naw,” says Snafu, leaning closer to Eugene over the center console. “Then I wouldn’t get to find out more ‘bout you, would I? What d’you do?”

Eugene blushes, not sure where this change in attitude is coming from, why Snafu is suddenly so interested. Also, he knows he’s about to sound like a rich kid, which he is, but still. He tries his best to edge away from Snafu without obstructing his driving, saying, “I’m working toward a Ph.D. in botany. I’m going to be a professor.”

“Oh, so you’re smart, okay,” says Snafu.

Eugene clenches his hand on the steering wheel, wanting to change the subject.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Snafu continues. “I could barely finish high school, I hated it so much.”

“Oh, well, I just really love botany,” says Eugene, trying to relax. “Once I started learning more I didn’t wanna stop.”

“So you’re gonna be a doctor, huh? Doctor Eugene?”

“Sledge, Doctor Eugene Sledge.”

Snafu merely hums in response, and Eugene feels strange. He really can’t tell what Snafu’s thinking, his asshole façade is impenetrable. Eugene can sense something underneath, but it’s well hidden. “Snafu.” Not Merriell. What does Snafu mean anyway? Eugene wants to ask where the hell that nickname comes from, but doesn’t want to come off as offensive. Maybe he’ll ask Burgie later.

“Can I smoke in here?” Snafu asks nonchalantly, jolting Eugene from his thoughts. 

He glances over, making brief eye contact, and Snafu shakes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter at him. “Um, sure,” Eugene responds without really thinking, taken aback by the sudden question.

Snafu rolls his window down and lights a cigarette, taking a long drag. Eugene has to stop himself from wincing at the smell, instantly regretting his quick decision. He tries his best to ignore it and focus on the road, but it’s ten times more distracting than the radio. At least maybe this will make Snafu like him. Not that he gives a shit. He glances at Snafu only to find the other man staring back, smoke spilling from his nostrils.

“You smoke?” he asks, holding up the cigarette box again.

“No,” says Eugene. There’s a beat of silence before he decides to attempt humor, “I would be a bad almost-doctor if I did.”

Snafu snorts. “That’s bullshit; you’re gonna be a fuckin’ plant doctor.”

“Hey, a doctor’s a doctor,” Eugene says, smiling without even realizing.

“Ain’t smoke like plant food anyway? And ashes fertilizer?” 

“Not if your cigarette butt catches plants on fire.”

“Who the fuck’s doing that shit? I never burned no plants down.”

Eugene gives him a look, a grin still on his face, and they both laugh, and Snafu doesn’t seem like such an asshole. It’s like when he was talking about Burgie; his smile lights up the whole car. Eugene has to remind himself to look away, eyes back on the road. The banter feels good.

Silence returns, but this time more comfortable. Well, aside from the suffocating cigarette smell. Snafu continues chainsmoking and Eugene is all but retching. The smell has always been something that easily bothered him, even passing a smoker on the street sometimes makes him nauseous. His temples pulse with a fierce migraine, which worsens with each passing minute, not aided by the fatigue of his early start this morning. When it becomes too much to bear, Eugene suggests pulling off the highway to eat at a rest stop and fill up the tank. Snafu agrees, and they drive another few miles to the next exit.

The rest stop isn’t very big, just a Popeye’s, a McDonald’s, and a local chain gas station Eugene doesn’t recognize. 

“Where d’you wanna eat?” Snafu asks as Eugene pulls into a parking space.

“I don’t eat McDonald’s,” says Eugene.

“What d’ya mean you don’t eat McDonald’s?” Snafu sounds almost offended.

Eugene looks over at him in confusion as he shifts the gear to park and turns the car off. “I’ve never eaten there. Ever. I just want to keep my streak.”

“Somethin’ about that jus’ feels classist,” Snafu says. “I don’t know if I can trust someone who thinks they're above McDonald’s.”

Eugene has no idea if he’s being serious. “If you really want to eat there it’s okay, I’ll just get a pretzel from the gas station or something.”

Snafu snickers. “Naw, I’m jus’ playin’. I don’t even want McDonald’s anyway.”

“Then.. What?” Eugene shakes his head in confusion before sighing. Why bother? He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to understand this guy’s sense of humor. “Anyway, so, Popeye’s then?”

“Sure.”

They cross the parking lot and enter the fast food joint. Eugene’s legs feel stiff and weak after all that sitting, and he tries to shake the pins and needles off without making it obvious. He fails, and Snafu stops to ask if he’s alright, causing him to flush in embarrassment. At the counter, they order their food. Eugene glances at Snafu out of the corner of his eye. He really is attractive. With the proximity, he can smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke, but now, really looking at him, it doesn’t smell so bad. Suddenly, Snafu looks back at him with those startling eyes, and Eugene realizes it’s his turn to order. He sputters for a second, tripping over his words as he tells the employee what he wants. 

“Somethin’ on my face?” questions Snafu as they walk to the pickup counter.

“No,” Eugene answers, face beet red. He doesn’t turn to look at Snafu, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. And he knows that smirk is back on Snafu’s face anyway, he could hear it in his voice.

Once their order is ready, they pick up their trays, Eugene letting Snafu lead him to a table. They take the first few bites of their food in silence. Eugene feels strangely shy about sitting face-to-face with Snafu now; they haven’t been properly face-to-face since they spoke at the door, and that seems like ages ago.

Snafu takes a loud slurp of his soda before asking, “So, where are you from? Burgie mentioned you drove out from Alabama.”

Eugene immediately swallows the food in his mouth, despite having not properly chewed it. He narrowly avoids choking, but his voice is still weak when he replies, “Oh, I’m from Mobile. I live in Auburn, though. Drove from there to Mobile yesterday, then down to New Orleans this morning.”

Snafu raises an eyebrow at his strained voice, but nods, continuing to eat.

Realizing it’s once again on him to continue the conversation, Eugene returns the question. “What about you?”

“I’m from New Orleans East. Lived in Baton Rouge for a while, y’know, after the storm, but… That city has a way of calling people back.” There’s something bittersweet and melancholic about the way Snafu speaks about his hometown, captivating Eugene. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt that strongly about Mobile.

“I haven’t spent much time in New Orleans,” says Eugene. “I’ve only been on a few day trips as a kid, to museums and stuff.”

 “I love it,” Snafu says without a pause, shrugging. “Shitty place, but… Yeah, I love it.” That glimmer is back on his face, the serene expression reserved for Burgie, banter, and now New Orleans. Eugene wonders how many other things can make him smile like that, and a part of him wants to try to find out.

“You must have missed it when you were in the Marines,” says Eugene.

Snafu laughs, “Let’s not get dramatic now.”

Eugene feels immediately embarrassed for asking, turning to look at the food on his tray and picking at it. He wishes he could throw a chicken tender at Snafu for being so annoying. Or that the booth would swallow him whole. Either one.

“Yeah, I did.”

Eugene looks up. “Huh?”

“I did actually miss New Orleans, though. Me and Burgie used to jus’ sit around on base and talk ‘bout home. Used to go to the grocery store and look for hot pockets, y’know. Somehow, they made us feel less homesick.” Snafu has a far-off look for a moment, then catches Eugene’s eye and they share a laugh. 

“Burgie and I used to have similar conversations in college,” Eugene says, smiling again. “Neither of us left the South, and I wasn’t even that far from home, but everything was still unfamiliar. Now I haven’t properly lived in Mobile ever since, and Burgie’s been all over the world...”

“Time flies, huh?” Snafu sighs.

“Yeah,” Eugene says. “Feels like yesterday and forever ago at the same time. And now he’s getting married!”

Snafu hums again, the same hum he gave in the car, and Eugene’s chest feels light for a reason he can’t place. They continue eating in silence. Eugene feels Snafu’s eyes on him repeatedly but decides not to return the eye contact. He wishes Snafu would at least stare less blatantly. He’s been doing it all day, just looking at Eugene. He’s not even trying to hide it; he doesn’t care that Eugene knows, it’s almost like he wants him to. Any normal person just looks away when they’re caught staring, but not him. Snafu’s just odd, and his behavior keeps Eugene on his toes. 

Once they’re done eating, Snafu reaches into Eugene's space and transfers the garbage onto his own tray. Eugene is puzzled by the unexpected favor but doesn’t dwell on it. They stop by the trash cans and make their way out to the car. The tank still needs to be filled, so Eugene backs out of the parking space and drives up to the gas station.

Before he steps out of the car, Snafu stops him. “Hey, why don’t I drive the rest of the way? You look like shit, you could use some sleep.”

Eugene’s heart drops. Does he look like shit? Is that why Snafu was staring at him this whole time? Does he have huge, ugly eyebags, is that all it was? He comes back to reality. He can’t let Snafu drive his car. “Uh, no. I’m fine,” he replies.

“C’mon, I don’t mind. Go ahead and sleep,” Snafu insists.

“No, uh, my car can be um. It can just act a bit weird, it’s best if I drive.” 

Snafu raises an eyebrow and Eugene can tell his words are less than convincing.

“Do y’think I’m a bad driver or somethin’?”

Okay, maybe Eugene does, but it’s only because of Snafu’s off-putting demeanor. He just seems like the type of person to tailgate someone and flash his high beams at them. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but Snafu cuts him off, saying, “I drive for a living. I’m a truck driver, remember?” 

Oh, yeah. Eugene had forgotten that detail. He can tell by Snafu’s tone of voice that he’s offended, and Eugene doesn’t blame him. He feels bad for assuming but is still apprehensive. “I don’t like other people driving my car,” he says. 

Snafu rolls his eyes obnoxiously. “Whatever, just don’t fall asleep at the wheel or some shit.” He sinks into his seat, pouting again. “You drive like my grandma, by the way.”

Eugene glares at him before finally stepping out of the car to fill the tank. He thought Snafu was going to spare him the grandma quip but he should’ve expected otherwise. As he stands at the meter, his eyes ache with fatigue and he feels a little woozy. The food has done nothing to help his tiredness, and all he wants is to curl up in the passenger seat and wake up in Fort Worth. Snafu’s offer almost seems tempting, but he only met the guy a few hours ago. It’s out of the question to trust him to drive Eugene’s car, even if he’s Burgie’s best friend. He jumps at a noise behind him, realizing he’d been closing his eyes and dozing off at the pump, with the tank already full. Snafu has stepped out of the car and is standing next to him now.

“Oh, alright,” Eugene gives in. “You drive the rest of the way.”

Snafu has an insufferable smug look on his face and immediately sits down in the driver's seat. Eugene returns the nozzle to the pump and makes his way to the passenger’s seat. Once he’s seated, he takes his keys out of his pocket and waves the one to his car at Snafu menacingly. 

“If you have even the slightest bit of road rage, I’m taking over,” he says, making direct eye contact.

Snafu snatches the keys from Eugene’s hand and rolls his eyes again. “Oh, please,” he grumbles under his breath. “I’m gonna get us there a lot faster than you would.”

To Snafu’s credit, he actually is a good driver. He’s completely focused on the road, finally using those big eyes of his for a good cause instead of just harassing Eugene. Snafu clicks on the radio again, still playing 90.7. The voice of a female soul vocalist floats through the car and Eugene’s eyelids grow heavy. He doesn’t want to leave Snafu’s driving unsupervised, so he attempts to fight sleep by repeatedly blinking, but it’s useless, he’s too tired. He’s had a long past two days. Weirdly, he feels more comfortable falling asleep in a car being driven by a stranger than in his childhood bedroom. Through heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes at Snafu, all jaw and tan skin. From this angle, Eugene can see the firm muscles of his arm as it rests on the steering wheel, his other lying on his thigh. He could feel Snafu’s eyes earlier; can Snafu feel his now? Does Snafu know that he looks back? His thoughts become foggy and he’s sleeping soundly within minutes.

He wakes around five hours later, 5 PM, with a severely dry mouth. He licks and smacks his lips as his eyes begin to focus. He tries sitting up and groans at his stiff neck, turning to the backseat to reach for a water bottle. 

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Snafu laughs, turning and grinning at him. “We’re in Texas now. Gettin’ real close to the finish line. Only ‘bout an hour left.”

Eugene ignores him in favor of chugging the water, pausing every few seconds to swish it around and wet his lips with it. His mouth tastes terrible and he hopes his breath doesn’t stink.

“Y’know, I was thinkin’ while you were asleep,” Snafu prattles on. “Why d’ya have a gas car? Ain’t you all obsessed with nature? Shouldn’t you have an electric car or some shit? Lovin’ the Earth an’ stuff?”

Eugene scoffs internally but keeps ignoring him, choking as he downs the rest of his water. He hacks out a cough as his throat burns. Snafu keeps talking, not even taking notice. Tears fill Eugene’s eyes as he attempts to breathe normally. He clears his throat loudly in a final attempt to get his lungs working again.

“Are you okay?” Snafu finally stops ranting.

“Oh, I’m just great,” Eugene says shakily, rubbing at his watering eyes.

“I got super fuckin’ bored while you were asleep,” Snafu says. “Once we got to Texas I turned off the radio ‘cause none of the stations were playin’ soul no more.” He turns to Eugene and fully looks at him for the first time since he woke up. “You got a red mark on ya face from the seatbelt.” 

Eugene is too groggy to be embarrassed and feels around his face for the indent, massaging it when he finds it. “You crash into anything while I was asleep?”

“No,” Snafu deadpans, not taking the bait. Clearly, he doesn’t like this line of humor. 

“Shocking,” Eugene returns in the same flat tone. “Do you want some water?” 

“Sure,” Snafu says.

Eugene tries to hand him a bottle, but he waves it away with his free hand.

“Open it for me.” Snafu’s not asking, it’s a command. 

Eugene looks from the water bottle to Snafu a few times before complying. He tries to hand it to Snafu again, but instead of grabbing it he puts his free hand on the steering wheel and opens his mouth.

“No,” Eugene says with a sigh, not even bothering to be shocked at this point.

“Was worth a try.” Snafu turns to him with a smirk, reaching for the water bottle. Their fingers graze as Eugene hands it to him and Eugene is forced to consider if he’s doing this on purpose. Is all this weird behavior Snafu’s way of flirting? The staring, the smirking, the teasing? Snafu takes a long gulp of the water and Eugene watches as a droplet rolls down his chin and onto his throat. It wouldn’t be so bad if that was the case.

The remainder of the drive to Fort Worth is uneventful, just some casual banter here and there as Snafu follows the directions of the GPS. As they close in on their destination, Eugene realizes that he has no idea where Snafu is staying. 

“Wait, the GPS is set to my hotel,” Eugene says. 

“Okay,” Snafu replies blankly.

Eugene rolls his eyes. “Well, where are you staying?”

“With Burgie.”

“Let me change the destination, then.” Eugene hopes with every fiber of his being that they don’t have to backtrack too much. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. Yeah, Snafu’s hot, and he… doesn’t mind him, but being trapped in a tin box with anyone for this long would drive him insane. He needs to be alone. Luckily, the change of course only adds about twenty minutes to their ETA, and Eugene pats himself on the back for having the foresight to book a hotel close to Burgie’s apartment. He shoots Burgie a text to let him know they’ll be arriving soon.

As they approach Burgie’s apartment, Eugene wonders about Snafu. He must be closer to Burgie than Eugene himself. He’s staying with him, it seems like he didn’t get a wedding gift, and Burgie went to all this trouble to ensure Snafu was able to come. Some part of Eugene is sure that Burgie might have driven out to New Orleans East himself to pick up Snafu if Eugene wasn’t able to. It’s not jealousy, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s disappointed, filled with the dismay that comes with realizing the person you feel closest to feels closer to someone else. It’s silly, the kind of thing a kid gets upset about, but he can’t help it. 

When they arrive, Eugene quickly exits the car and walks to the driver’s side, ready to switch places with Snafu.

Snafu’s laughing as he opens the door. “You look like some kinda butler tryna help me out of a carriage standin’ there like that.”

Eugene snorts, then feels awkward as they now stand face to face. He’s not sure what to say or if they should shake hands. “Uh, see you for dinner later, then,” he ends up saying.

Snafu grins a real smile, the one reserved for Burgie, banter, New Orleans, and now, Eugene. “‘Course,” he beams and gives Eugene a pat on the shoulder before walking away. 

Eugene stands, frozen, and watches him be buzzed into the apartment building. If he feels Eugene’s eyes, he doesn’t react. Once the door closes, Eugene snaps out of it and sits down in front of the wheel. He plugs his hotel into the GPS and hazily drives his way there. Once he’s safely inside his room, he smacks himself down on the bed and lets out a sigh. It feels good to properly lay down after all that sitting. Alone and staring up at the ceiling, he still can only think of Snafu. If he was flirting, was Eugene doing it back without realizing it? I mean, he was immediately attracted to him, so maybe subconsciously… He wonders if it’s wise to entertain this flirtation. It might be a good distraction from all the pressure of his dissertation. It’s just flirting, it’s noncommittal. He wonders if he made the whole thing up in his head. He tries to clear his thoughts but instead starts imagining his mother meeting Snafu. He snickers at the thought. They would hate each other.

He feels himself getting drowsy again and bolts upright. He’s supposed to meet Burgie at the restaurant in only about an hour, he can’t let himself drift off. He checks his breath and his suspicions from earlier are confirmed. He definitely needs to brush his teeth before he leaves. He hopes Snafu didn’t notice. He checks himself in the mirror to make sure his clothes don’t look too wrinkled. He decides to change from a t-shirt into a button-down to look a little more proper before freshening up in the bathroom. He’s ready a little too early, so he kills the rest of his time by rummaging through his suitcase and reorganizing it.

He confirms the address of the restaurant with Burgie, picking out a route on the GPS, and stands, ready to leave. Of course, as soon as opens the door, Eugene’s anxiety decides that he must pee before getting in the car. Luckily, he decided to leave early, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. He’s on his way in a minute or two, stepping out of the hotel into the humid, late spring air. The sun isn’t setting yet, but it’s circling its way around the horizon, getting ready to descend. 

The restaurant is only thirteen minutes from the Comfort Inn Eugene is staying in, and he arrives 10 minutes before the agreed time. He looks around the parking lot, searching for Burgie’s car, but he can’t remember what it looks like for the life of him. Does Burgie have a truck? That would seem in character. But maybe it was a hatchback? Or a sedan? Maybe he should go inside and say Burgie’s name as the reservation. But he can’t get there first and be alone at the table, that’s weird. Two figures crossing the threshold interrupt his thoughts: a sturdy frame he immediately recognizes as Burgie and a curly head that can only be Snafu. They seem to be laughing about something, and Eugene’s chest feels light. He’s so happy to see Burgie after so long, he’d missed him so much. And Snafu’s face… If he’d smiled when talking about Burgie, he was beaming now. The look on his face is infectious, and Eugene finds himself smiling despite being alone in his car.

Eugene waits a few minutes for the pair to get settled inside before getting out of his car and following behind. The restaurant is a typical steakhouse with a bar and TVs playing various sports on every wall. He searches the tables until he finds Burgie, who makes eye contact and starts waving. He tells the hostess that his friends are waiting before walking toward them, trying to maintain a normal pace despite his excitement. Burgie stands, grinning, and gives him a warm hug, patting Eugene’s back firmly a few times.

“I missed you!” Burgie coos into his ear. 

“I missed you too,” Eugene says as they part, face glowing. 

Burgie turns and holds out an arm toward the booth.  “You’ve already met Snafu.”

Snafu gives a mocking wave and smirks. “Oh, yeah. We know each other very well now.”

Eugene blushes. What’s with this guy? Why’s he making it sound weird? All they did was talk! Burgie gives Eugene a look as they sit down and he has to stop himself from explaining that nothing happened, it wasn’t like that. 

“So, uh, who else is coming?” he says instead, clearing his throat.

“Just a few more guys, friends of mine from work,” Burgie replies. “They should be here soon. Anyway, I didn’t get to properly talk to you on the phone last week, how have you been?”

“Well, nothing much. Just my dissertation,” he shrugs. It seems evasive, but it’s the truth. Eugene’s life is boring, all he does is research these days.

“Nothing new?”

“Honestly, no.” He gives an empty chuckle before continuing, “It’s exhausting. It’s like I’m working on something impossible to finish. I’ve been really burnt out lately…”

Burgie reaches across the table and gives his arm a quick pat. “I know you’ll succeed,” he says. “Just remember that you love botany. Return to that passion, the reason you wanted to do this in the first place, then you’ll have the strength to persevere.”

Eugene smiles. “You sound just like my dad, he said something similar.”

“Well, he’s a doctor, he must be right,” says Burgie with a laugh.

There’s a lull in the conversation and Eugene becomes aware of those eyes boring into him yet again. He’d almost forgotten Snafu was there, which is odd. In Eugene’s experience, he’s not usually such a silent person. Eugene glances at him. He’s just sitting there, curled up in his corner of the booth, observing with those wide, blue eyes. His expression is blank, but he slowly grins as they make eye contact. Eugene looks away, back down at the table, but he knows Snafu hasn’t and is continuing to stare. 

Burgie’s friends arrive within the next fifteen minutes, and they have to get a waiter to push another table up to the booth. There are three of them, all working at the same contracting company as Burgie. They’re loud and rowdy, watching and reacting to the sports on the TVs. Eugene only meets each of them briefly to shake hands, but he can immediately tell that his nature doesn’t mesh well with theirs. The three steal away Burgie’s attention throughout their meal, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone together on their end of the booth. 

“You don’t like them,” Snafu states as he eats his steak. 

“It’s not really that I just… I don’t know how to talk to them,” Eugene says between bites. “They’re not my type of people.”

“D’you know how to talk to me?” Snafu says, not looking at Eugene but instead focusing on his steak. He’s attempting to hold the entire thing up with his fork and rip the meat off with his teeth instead of cutting it.

Eugene watches him play with his food with slight disgust but ignores it. “No, I don’t. You’re weird.”

Snafu snorts at this. “Am I not your ‘type of people’ then?”

Eugene’s face splits into a playful grin. “Hm, I don’t know. Maybe if you stopped playing music in the car.”

They both laugh but are interrupted by louder laughter next to them. Burgie and his work friends have all ordered shots. They offer some to Eugene and Snafu, but both decline.

“Designated driver?” Eugene asks.

“Somethin’ like that,” Snafu replies vaguely, avoiding eye contact. He’s abandoned his plate by now and is leaning over the table with his chin in his palm. 

Eugene can tell that he’s approaching a sore spot, so he changes the subject. “So,” he starts. “Did you get all settled at Burgie’s apartment?”

“Yeah, it’s like my home away from home or whatever.”

Eugene nods, unsure of what to say next. He doesn’t know why Snafu does this, letting the conversation die. It’s like he wants to put Eugene on the spot. 

“I’m goin’ out for a smoke,” Snafu says, interrupting Eugene’s thoughts. He stands slowly, then asks, “Wanna come?”

“Sure,” Eugene says, looking up at him. In the dim light of the restaurant, his features are even more harsh and pronounced.

They maneuver their way out of the booth, trying not to bump into Burgie and his friends at the adjoined table. The others don’t even notice they’re leaving, too invested in a drinking game. Outside, the sun has fully set. None of the stars are visible in the sky, and there’s no grass for fireflies to blink in. Eugene doesn’t like heavily urbanized areas like this, where nothing lives but people. He needs the plants and the birds and the stars to be happy. 

Snafu reaches into his pocket, retrieving a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He offers them to Eugene, who again refuses, before lighting one up and taking a long drag. His eyes close for a moment, seemingly in some sort of bliss, as he holds in the smoke, before exhaling away from Eugene. The odor hits Eugene’s nostrils and he has to keep himself from making a face. He distracts himself by watching Snafu take another drag, sucking on the cigarette, cheeks hallowing slightly. At least he looks pretty, even if it smells.

At this moment, Eugene feels oddly close and familiar with Snafu. Maybe it’s their proximity throughout the day, or how attractive Snafu is, or the smoke messing with Eugene’s thoughts, or maybe just the moonlight. He thinks about his antics in the car and how they seem almost charming in retrospect, despite being annoying at the time. Maybe they were charming then too, but Eugene was too obsessed with feeling awkward to realize.

“I have a heart condition,” Eugene says out of the blue.

“Huh?” Snafu says, eyebrows raised. In a few seconds, a look of understanding washes over him, and he drops his cigarette, stomping it out. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I don’t wanna kill you or somethin’.”

“No, no!” Eugene’s cheeks are flushed red in embarrassment. What is he doing? “I meant, that’s why I’m not drinking. Not just because I have to drive. I don’t drink. Sorry, I don’t really know why I’m telling you this.”

Snafu laughs again with that earnest smile, and Eugene almost doesn’t mind embarrassing himself if he gets to see that face. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, boo?”

Eugene’s chest warms at the pet name. He normally hates when people call him things like that, but somehow Snafu is an exception. “Sorry, I guess I was just thinking about it because of earlier.”

“You’re funny, Eugene,” Snafu says, looking serene in the moonlight.

They’ve inched closer toward each other throughout their conversation, shoulders almost touching as they stand side by side. Eugene, slightly taller than him, can look down at his face from this angle, and he looks perfect. Suddenly, Eugene knows that if he doesn’t reach out to Snafu now, he’ll regret it later. He can’t let his anxiety or apprehension get in the way of his own happiness. He bumps his hand against Snafu, knuckles grazing, who turns to look at him. Their faces are only two shoulder widths apart, and Eugene can see every eyelash, every freckle on his face. He takes Snafu’s hand fully, entwining their fingers.

Snafu smirks and turns so they face each other.

“Why do you keep smirking at me?” Eugene whispers. “All day, that smirk.”

“For an almost doctor, you’re so stupid,” Snafu says with a roll of his eyes.

Eugene is about to respond but is interrupted by Snafu cupping his neck with his free hand and kissing him. His eyes flutter shut, hand drifting to Snafu’s jaw. The kiss is sweet and warm, and when they part they leave their faces close for a second, just breathing in each other’s air, before returning to their shoulder-to-shoulder position. 

“I’ve been flirtin’ with you all day,” Snafu says, and now the smirk in his voice doesn’t seem so evil. 

“I wasn’t sure. I thought maybe you were just being an asshole.”

“To me, that’s flirtin’.”

Eugene snorts. 

They stay out there for a few more minutes, just chatting and basking in the moonlight and each other’s presence. The barrier Eugene had set up, that fear of awkwardness, had melted away. He’s not sure where this thing with Snafu is going, or if it will go anywhere, he just knows that right now, it feels good, and that’s what matters. He spends too much time worrying about his past with his parents and his future with his dissertation; the two press against each other until the present is all but gone, a sliver of its former self. It’s time to finally live. They kiss again before reentering the restaurant, this time more lingering, parting with a smile. When they sit down again it’s like they share a secret, something only for them to know, and they can’t help but knowingly grin at each other from across the table.

By 10:30, Burgie and his work friends are all at varying levels of intoxication. Burgie is the least drunk, mostly just buzzed, to avoid a hangover on his wedding day. The three others are properly drunk and talking about continuing at a bar down the road. Eugene frowns at them, finding it difficult to hide his disdain. Aren’t they going to the wedding tomorrow? He makes eye contact with Snafu who looks as disgusted as he is. 

They say their goodbyes to the three, which for Eugene is just a curt nod of the head. Burgie pays the bill, which Eugene protests but Burgie insists the host should pay. Snafu keeps entirely out of the conversation, but looks off to the side guiltily when Eugene glances at him. He’s able to convince Burgie to let him leave the tip, placing a fifty-dollar bill down on the table. The poor waitress had a lot to deal with, a huge order and three annoying, rowdy drunks. They make their way out to the parking lot, Snafu now walking with Burgie, and Eugene trailing behind.

“It was so good just to hang out,” Burgie says to him, pulling him into another hug. “Sorry I wasn’t able to talk much, those three can be overwhelming.”

“It’s okay, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Eugene gives him a tight squeeze before letting go. “I can’t wait to meet Florence.” 

“Speaking of which, I should go call her and warn her I’m coming home,” says Burgie, smiling softly. “I’m sleeping in the living room with Snafu tonight. Don’t want any bad luck.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Eugene pats Burgie’s arm, nodding him off. “Don’t keep Florence waiting.”

Burgie walks off, phone in hand, leaving Snafu and Eugene alone again. Their previous goodbye had been uncomfortable at best, but all of that was gone now. 

“Guess you’ll see me tomorrow too, huh?” Snafu drawls, each word glazing over Eugene like honey, hand reaching out to palm Eugene’s shoulder. 

“Guess so,” he replies, mirroring Snafu’s movement before pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad I decided to pick you up today. Even if you were a little insane at first.” He brings a hand up to Snafu's hair, petting it softly and running his fingers through the curls.

“Sorry about that,” Snafu chuckles, leaning into the touch slightly.

They part and say their goodbyes, Eugene turning and walking toward his car, this time Snafu watching his back disappear. Once alone in his hotel room, Eugene can hardly believe himself. He doesn’t regret anything, but normally in social situations, he feels overwhelmed, especially by people like Snafu who are hard to read. He finds it difficult to act in such situations, to do anything. Today he acted, and he was happy with the result. He goes to sleep thinking of Snafu and what the next day may bring. He won’t need to lie about his mother suddenly becoming ill now; he’ll gladly drive another eight hours with Snafu being annoying in the passenger seat as long as it means they get to kiss again. 

When the morning comes, Eugene is buzzing with excitement. He feels slightly ashamed that this is mostly because of Snafu and not his friend’s wedding, but he can’t help it. He arrives early, sitting alone in one of the church pews behind those reserved for family and the procession. Only a few others are here so early, and he sits in contemplation, the excitement from earlier suddenly washed away. Churches will always remind him of his mother. Maybe he should feel bad for his outbursts two days before, but he can’t force himself to. She chooses to never understand. She wants him on that altar with a woman one day, saying his own vows. She’ll never get that. He’s filled with a melancholic feeling as he stares at the cross.

He sits there, unaware, for an hour as the church fills around him. His wallowing is interrupted by the sound of the pianist playing a precursory song. Within a few minutes, the procession starts. First Florence’s mother, then Burgie, who looks nervous. He takes his place at the altar, and Eugene tries to find his eyes, to give him a consolidating look, but Burgie’s gaze is fixed on the aisle. Next, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, Burgie’s three brothers, walking arm in arm, with the maid of honor and… Snafu at the end. For some reason, Eugene didn’t expect him to be the best man and almost feels offended that he wasn’t offered a spot as at least a groomsman. This is all quickly forgotten when he gets a proper look at Snafu in a suit. His hair is neat and gelled back, a grin on his face. He meets Eugene’s eyes with a smirk as he walks by. Florence is next in the procession, and she looks beautiful. Eugene has seen pictures of her before, but they couldn’t do her justice. She is radiant in her gown, and he sees Burgie’s face light up as soon as she begins her walk down the aisle.

The ceremony proceeds without a hitch, Burgie picking up Florence and spinning her around once the pastor tells him to kiss the bride. Everyone makes their way to the reception hall, with what would normally be a ten-minute drive turning into a twenty-five-minute drive with all the traffic. Eugene puts his anxiety-inducing gift down on the table designated for presents then finds himself a table in the corner, waiting for the wedding procession to be introduced and the party to start. 

When they arrive, the dancing begins, and the food is set out. Eugene grabs himself a plate and is moving down the buffet when someone touches his shoulder, He nearly jumps, but turns and sees Burgie, giving him a half-hug with his free hand.

“Congratulations, Burgie,” he says. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Burgie beams at him, then steps to the side, revealing Florence, who leans in to give Eugene a half-hug as well.

“It’s so good to finally meet you!” she squeals. “Burgie just loves you! Thank you so much for coming!”

“Nice to meet you, too!” Eugene says. “Congratulations, Florence!”

“I have to go greet the others, but I’ll talk to you later, Eugene. Bye!” She turns and walks off, a bounce in her step.

“She's lovely. I’m so happy for you, Burgie.” Eugene actually feels like he might cry. In a strange way, he feels like he’s saying goodbye to Burgie today. With him married and Eugene getting his Ph.D., they’ll have even less time to see each other. But Burgie means the world to him, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep their bond from fading.

“So, how did you feel about Snafu?”

“Huh?” If there was anything Eugene was expecting Burgie to say, it wasn’t that.

Burgie looks at him knowingly. “I just thought you might like to know that he’s playing for your team, that’s all.”

Eugene sputters, “Did you plan this? Is that why you called me in particular?”

“I just thought you two might click,” laughs Burgie. “And by your reaction, I’m guessing you did?”

“Well… maybe a little,” says Eugene, unable to stop his cheeks from dusting themselves pink.

“He’s right over there watching us, by the way. I think he’s waiting for you,” Burgie says, motioning his head behind him to where Snafu is standing in a corner. “I won’t hold you up.” He begins walking away but then turns back. “Oh yeah, don’t worry, I sneaked a look at your gift and I love it. I know you’ve probably been letting that torture you the whole time.”

Eugene snorts and Burgie gives him a clap on the back before going to join his wife. With him gone, Eugene can clearly see Snafu across the room. He shakes his head, smiling as walks over.

Snafu – no, Merriell greets him with the usual grin. “Wanna dance?”

fin.

p.s. i also made this playlist of songs i think snafu would listen to in the car :)

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Previous Husband AU, Pt 7

(Content warning for abuse and violence)

---

Over the next week, Lena mutes Tom's number on her personal cell and routes her work cell through to her assistant for screening. She works from home-- well, Kara's home, technically-- rocking the satin blouse and pajama bottom look when she needed to be on video chat.

Besides that, she keeps a low profile as she worked out her next steps. During the day, she reaches out to her lawyers, quietly investigating her options before making any moves. Each night, when Kara returns home with takeout, Lena always asks before sharing what strides she's made.

"Are you sure you want to hear about this?" she confirms for the third night in a row. "I have people to help me with all this."

"Lena," Kara says bluntly. "I want to hear about it. I'm in this with you. I want to know what's going on."

Lena gives her a grateful smile. It helps to talk through it-- it not only vents the pressure of stress that builds in her chest throughout the day, but also makes her exit plan all the more real. The light at the end of the tunnel creeps closer by the day.

The good news, Lena explains that night, is that their finances were never joined. They'd signed a pre-nup-- the one thing Lena will ever thank her mother for insisting upon-- which means that besides a few joint investments that Lena won't be hurting to lose, her resources are safe.

Her main concern is her apartment, which has been Tom's home ever since he arrived in National City. Lena doubts he'll move out evem if she demands it, but if push comes to shove, she reasons she can have a team in to pack the place in one day and have the unit listed on the market by noon the next.

No reason for her to step another foot into the apartment again.

It stings a little, she confesses to Kara, to be driven out of her own home. To make even a single concession just to be rid of Tom. But to be rid of him with minimum fuss and zero risk of confrontation is worth sacrificing her pride.

In fact, despite the dread and anguish that had first driven Lena to Kara's door, she now feels... hopeful. She feels like in a way that makes her realize how miserable she's been-- and for how long.

So it's with a smile that Lena sends Kara to work a week to the day since she arrived in tears. Today she upgraded to jeans and a blouse that's soft on her skin, allowing her comfort while also remaining a tad more presentable than her previous hodge podge of dress codes.

Settling onto the couch to thumb through an R&D report, Lena takes a moment to pause, and simply breathe. She feels good.

When she opens her eyes to get down to business, Lena spies Kara's lunch and keys on the counter. Almost as soon as she notices the forgotten items, a knock sounds at the door.

"Dork," Lena mutters with a grin to herself. She plucks lunch and keys both from the counter on her way to the door.

When she opens the door, it's not Kara she sees on the other side.

"Tom."

The air instantly seems to suck from the room, leaving Lena's chest hollow. Every muscle tenses, teetering on the edge of fight or flight.

The smile Tom gives her would be considered congenial, if not for the dark glint of anger in his eyes.

"Hey babe."

Lena swallows the reflexive "what are you doing here?" that rises in her throat, clinging to what little dignity she feels she has left. She lifts her chin, jaw clenching.

"What do you want?"

Tom heaves a sigh. "I missed you too," he drawls sarcastically. His gaze scans the apartment behind her, before Lena too late tries to close the door tighter around her.

"I almost forgot how dramatic you are," he continues. "But a week is stretching it, don't you think? Even for you."

Saying nothing, Lena scowls at him. "You hurt me, Tom."

"You know I didn't mean to, Lee."

"Don't call me that." She's always hated that fucking nickname, and he knows it.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just, sometimes you get so irrational, it makes me nuts. I snapped, okay? But I promise it won't happen again. We can work through it, together."

The last sounds almost like the promise Lena had made to Kara, but this time it rings hollow. Even as his words spark guilt and shame in her chest, Lena retains the presence of mind to recognize the red flags his tactics are.

Flipping the blame on her.

Casting her as hysterical, irrational.

Downgrading the severity of the event.

Empty promises to do better, next time.

Lena's hand curls into a fist at her side. There won't be a next time.

Tom looks her in the eye. "It's time to come home," he tells her.

Panic rises in Lena's chest. This is it. The final moment between reconciliation or outright confrontation. Lena hates conflict-- always has. She avoids it wherever possible, but right now, she has a choice to make: a single confrontation now to cut ties, or countless more in the future if she goes back.

She makes her choice.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Tom stares at her, his features suddenly unreadable. Then, before she has a chance to react, he lunges towards her and grabs her bicep in a vise grip.

"Hey!" Lena yelps in reflex, pulling back too late to escape.

"We're leaving," he growls. He yanks her from the doorway into the hall, and starts dragging her towards the elevator.

Lena's socked feet slide too easily on the smooth floor, even as she pries unsuccessfully at his fingers. "Ow! Tom, let go! You're hurting me!"

"Shut up!" he growls, yanking her sharply, making her cry out in pain. "If you had just come home, we wouldn't have to go through all this mess."

The elevator door opens, and Tom flings her inside. She bounces off the back wall with a grunt of air escaping her lungs, winding her. Before she can take advantage of her momentary freedom, Tom is right there, pressing against her to pin her against the wall as the elevator closes behind them.

"Stupid bitch. You're so fucking predictable. You know all I had to do to find you was think who would be gullible enough to take your pathetic ass in. And of course it's the cunt who tossed you aside like it was nothing!"

Lena hisses, grimacing as the handrail presses sharply against her spine. "You're the cunt, Tom," she snarls back. "Poor little boy who has to throw women around just to feel like a big strong man--augh!"

Tom's palm cracks across her cheek just as the elevator dings its arrival at the ground floor. He takes Lena roughly by the arm again and pulls her forward once more-- only to stop short of bouncing off another body waiting to step inside the elevator.

"Kara!"

Relief isn't quite the word she'd use to describe the feeling that lifts in her chest. Fear still coats her throat, strangling her. Meanwhile, Kara's pleasant features freeze in surprise-- then darken a moment later as she takes in the scene before her.

Her gaze bounces once between Tom and Lena, scanning Lena for sign of injury before narrowing in on the grip Tom still has on Lena's bicep. Then her eyes flick up to the wide fear in Lena's, before turning her entire focus on Tom.

All this happens in the space of a heartbeat, and in the next breath Tom puffs upright and thrusts his chest out menacingly.

"Get out of--"

Kara winds back her right fist and punches Tom square in the face.

Lena's left to sag a little and catch her breath when Tom's hand lets go to fly up and cradle his face.

"Motherfucker!!" Tom yells, his voice claggy with blood. Even through his fingers, Lena can see his chin coated with the stuff. Before he can do anything more, Kara grips him by the shirt and hauls him around and out of the elevator, releasing him with a shove towards the door.

"Stay the fuck away from her," Kara growls. She plants herself in the threshold of the elevator, ignoring the repeated bumps from the door trying to slide close.

"Or what, bitch!" he roars back. Anger seems to have dulled the pain in his face, because he struts back towards them, seemingly ready for more.

This time, Lena is the one to stand between them.

"No!" she bellows, sharp enough to stop them both short. Tom only pauses a moment though, before continuing to press forward. Finding her nerve and fueled by her own anger, Lena smacks both hands into his chest, shoving him back. "No."

"Lena--"

Lena cuts Tom's threat off with a glare. "I want a divorce," she declares bluntly. She scowls.

"Until then I'll settle for a fucking restraining order."

Stepping back into the elevator, Lena grabs Kara by the hand and pulls her inside as well. Together they stand side by side, glaring at Tom until the door finally slides shut. They both bristle from the altercation on the ride up, storming back down the hall to Kara's apartment.

Only then, after the door has closed behind them and Kara turns all the locks, does Lena's chest catch. Her breath suddenly shortens, and her next attempt to inhale is sharply abbreviated.

Kara's arms wrap around her as Lena's anger falters, leaving only a bubble of tears that soon bursts into a bevy of sobs. Kara says nothing, and simply holds her as she cries.

[honeymochibubbletea]

Goooood nighty night everynya!

Are you all okay? I hope so~!

So y’all may be familiar with this Oc that i showed on my recent post, right?

Isn’t he a cutie child~? (He doesn’t even look like he gives people trouble… hehehe~)

Let’s start with the basics, shall we?

Nykui is a Telltown Oc.

He’s 10 years old.

Nykui’s pronouns are he/him.

His height is 3’3 feet tall (please, if someone is reading my Ocs heights… have patience with me: i totally have 0 idea of how tall or short these are… just know that Oliver is shorter than the average height pattern for guys, Nykui is smaller than Oliver and Emilly is the tallest between them…)

He is surprisingly Brazilian despite the Japanese name, lol

His comfort zone: …his little hideout in the middle of the woods… (he has a treehouse… his bed is a grocery cart he managed to steal…) (and before you ask me how he managed to bring a cart up into a treehouse… he has his ways…); his comfort food: bungeoppang or bao; his comfort objects: a blankie and a small dog plushie; his comfort characters: . . .just any dad or mom figure he can look up to…; his comfort drink: ramune sodas (he likes collecting the bottles and shaking the little marbles inside, lol) and his comfort dessert: bolinhos de chuva aka cinnamon sugar beignet.

He may be very weak (considering he is a child), but he makes up the lack of strength with agility and witty ability.

He’s an orphan neko boy who never met his mother and his father died when he was 7… he absolutely LOATHES the idea of living in an orphanage thanks for the discrimination he suffered thanks for his heterochromatic eyes and… his mixed race…

His one and only phobia is… monophobia/eremophobia…

He is a little rascal and hellion: since he doesn’t want to be on an orphanage (he escaped two now), he lives inside the forest of the small town Telltown…

He only steals food or a few toys to entertain himself with…

His main goal is… to find someone who wants him…

Here’s some fun facts about Nykui:

Since he is a little troublemaker to most townsfolk, he doesn’t get along with Charlie… (she doesn’t do anything to jeopardize him… she only picks him up and takes him out of the store he was stealing from… or she grabs him by the back of his coat when he’s pickpocketing people… of course he scratches her good and run away as quickly as he can… and she only sighs in a disapproving manner…)

Nykui is very stubborn and easily tricked when you use the right words with him… he’s not naive, but if you offer what he craves most, you’ll mostly likely will have his attention…

Thanks to his cuteness and trickery, he can fool a lot of tourists that come to Telltown.

His best friend is Lena: she’s nice with him…

He also likes Oliver and Emilly: Oliver always offers him their house for him to sleep on cold winters and makes the best cinnamon sugar beignets when it rains :). And Emilly… even though she acts sometimes a little Tsundere-ish, she has a soft spot for the neko child… like secretly giving him some of the pastries of the cafe she works on.

I really like to think that Nykui managed to convince Carter, Charlie’s brother, to build the treehouse for him muehehe~ >:3

I’m going to post a “little” (may or may not be actually a long-ass fanfic but oh well) fanfic about his relationship with Phantasmo… i’ll leave you all in suspense~ Muahahaha! >:D

[drkineildwicks]

More BH6

So I’ve been meaning to draw this for a bit, mostly because of the meme (I saw a version of it with Lena and Scrooge on the Ducktales tumblr tag), mostly because I was going through the sequel fic to (Not So) Hated by Life Itself (read now on AO3 and FFN) and got to this bit:

“Well we’ve been having to supervise his caffeine habits after the coffee abomination,” Tadashi told him. “To be fair, that wasn’t the worst offense I did with coffee,” Obake said. “There’s a worse offense what on earth could you possibly do that was worse?” “I was busy, I didn’t really want to do both coffee and ramen I had something else to get back to, so I might have cooked my ramen in my coffee.  Once.”  Hesitate, reflecting.  “Maybe more than once.” “Why would you do that!?” Tadashi demanded.

So sorry Tadashi, Obake didn’t ask for permission. X’D  And yeah he’s been monitoring Obake’s coffee habits since then he’s already reported him to Aunt Cass over the coffee abomination (AKA tea and coffee brewed together).

References include the song “Crazy = Genius” by Panic! At the Disco (being a song I associate with Obake) and Tadashi’s Lamball pajama bottoms and Chikipi top, both from Palworld (the shirt references the fact that my tiny Chikipi keep claiming the big Pal beds).

As for the sequel fic itself, we’re at 306 pages, 23 consecutive chapters, and 122+K words.  We’re making progress....

Find it on eclipse here, as always please be kind and reblog, not repost, thank you! :D

Big Hero 6 © 2014 Disney

Done in Adobe Photoshop.