#as per my desperate desire to please my father

[sailoreuterpe]

My fanfic drafts from 25 years ago: cishet nonsense with cheating, love triangles, and wack dynamics plus various bigotries.

Me now: But what if healthy queer????

[robininthelabyrinth]

JGY and NMJ post-canon, as fierce corpses sealed up together in that coffin (as per novel), get freed from the coffin and go to Cloud Recesses on Baxia because NMJ is fed with having that little snake around all the time.

ao3

“I can’t believe you actually managed to get us out of there,” Jin Guangyao said when they reached air again.

“I can’t believe you’re still talking,” Nie Mingjue growled, his voice still raspy from the whole decapitated head business, which he was still taking far too personally in Jin Guangyao’s opinion. He’d already been dead at the time! It wasn’t like Jin Guangyao had caused him any additional pain by the dismemberment!

Anyway, Nie Mingjue had unexpectedly turned into a terrifyingly powerful fierce corpse – contrary to everything that should have happened, did he just skip the whole soul-calming rituals that all children of the gentry were supposedly getting? – and there had simply been no other alternative that would keep him from murdering Jin Guangyao right then and there.

Possibly, Jin Guangyao allowed, that was the problem Nie Mingjue had with it.

“Aren’t you tired? You’ve done nothing but talk since we got stuck in there!”

“It’s my finest talent –”

“Lying and deceit are your finest talents.”

“And those require talking!”

Nie Mingjue shoved Jin Guangyao as he tried to climb out of the coffin. He tried to catch himself with one hand, forgot that he didn’t have that arm anymore, and tumbled to the ground.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they’d realized some time ago that their sentience depended on regularly interacting with each other, and that without regular conversation they would both begin to lose their minds and revert to ravening beasts, Jin Guangyao swore that he would have murdered Nie Mingjue and torn apart his body a second time over.

“I should’ve ripped off your tongue instead of your arm,” Nie Mingjue complained. “I’d have had a happier afterlife if I did.”

“Too late now,” Jin Guangyao grumbled, getting up. It was very strange, being a fierce corpse. “I liked you better when you were wholly consumed with rage – oh, wait, that’s what you’ve been like the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

The prohibition on the coffin had been broken, but there was still one around the ruined temple to keep people out and evil creatures, a category currently including the two of them, although Jin Guangyao suspected that Nie Mingjue would argue that Jin Guangyao had always been included in that category. He might even be right, who knew? 

At any rate, they needed to break the prohibition to get out. Jin Guangyao tossed himself down on the ground to wait while Nie Mingjue examined it.

“Why did you start talking?” he asked idly. “I’ve always wondered. When I died, you were completely mindless.”

“Who knows?” Nie Mingjue said distractedly. “Maybe all you need for sentience is to marinate in rage for long enough.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Why? Works for the sabers.”

Jin Guangyao opened his mouth, then found he had nothing to say. He supposed that it did.

“Why did you always have so much rage, anyway?” he complained. “I understand the bit about your father being murdered, and of course your stupid cultivation style encourages it, but you always seemed especially irritated about everything.”

Nie Mingjue huffed. “You remember that I’m misaligned, right?”

“So what? Being misaligned makes you more of a shithead?”

“No, dealing with your father made me more of a shithead.”

Jin Guangyao considered the practicalities of having to deal with his father while possessing a physically female body and shuddered. It really wasn’t worth considering, especially since Lanling Jin did not believe in or especially respect Qinghe Nie’s tradition of misaligned souls. “Wait,” he said a moment later. “He knew? Why did he know?! I didn’t know, and I worked for you for years!”

“You worked for me as an adult, you dolt. He met me when I was still young.”

Jin Guangyao thought about it, then grimaced. “I can’t even imagine you as a little girl.”

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

“…I wish you’d have told me,” Jin Guangyao picked at the fraying hem of his robes.

“Why? Would you be less likely to murder me if you knew? Or was it just to spare yourself the unpleasant shock you received when you were dismembering my corpse?”

Jin Guangyao considered it. “Mostly the latter.”

“Good. If you’d said it was the former, I’d take my chances with insanity.”

Jin Guangyao rolled his eyes, then frowned. “Did he ever…?”

“Ever..? Wait, what? No!” Nie Mingjue turned to stare at him, looking scandalized – which was not an expression one really expected to see on a fierce corpse. “Why would you even ask that?”

Jin Guangyao shrugged. “Seemed reasonable, given everything else he did.”

“No,” Nie Mingjue grimaced. “He just thought I was a freak, and it seemed to especially irritate him when I didn’t just submit to whatever he wanted, that’s all. Nothing over the top...still, you clearly know what he was like. This was the man you were so desperate for the approval for?”

“I figured it out eventually,” Jin Guangyao grumbled. “Anyway, who are you to talk about father issues? You, with the whole you-killed-my-father obsession?”

“He did kill my father.”

“Big deal! So did I!” He paused. “Kill my father, that is. Not yours.”

“Did you?” Nie Mingjue snorted. “My desire to kill you went down one notch.”

“It did?”

“From several tens of thousands, but yes.”

Jin Guangyao drummed his fingers on his knee thoughtfully. “Can I kill other people to make it keep going down?”

“The fact that you even asked that made it go back up.”

Useless. Nie Mingjue was just completely useless.

“How long will it take you to get out of this one?” he asked instead, changing the subject. “I’d like to get to the Cloud Recesses to see Lan Xichen before, you know, he dies of old age.”

“Would you like to break through this array?” Nie Mingjue growled.

Lan Xichen had always been very fond of communication. He sincerely believed that almost all the problems in the world were due to miscommunication, that the vast majority of the time people just needed to meet in the middle and talk things over and that they would be able to solve almost everything to their mutual satisfaction.

Communication, Jin Guangyao decided, had not helped things one bit.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to say?” Nie Mingjue asked, poking at one part of the array and not looking at Jin Guangyao in a way that had to be deliberate.

“Say?” Jin Guangyao asked. “When?”

“When we get to the Cloud Recesses. What you’ll say to Xichen.”

Jin Guangyao had thought a lot about that. “It depends,” he hedged. “I mean, what I say to him, there’s a lot of factors – for instance, will you be there?”

“Would you prefer to talk to him as mindless fierce corpse slavering for his blood?”

Jin Guangyao grimaced. “I’m still thinking about it, then.”

“Well, think fast, then. I found a gap.”

“Good!” Jin Guangyao scrambled to his feet. “That was fast. How do we break it?”

“It’s impossible to break from the inside.”

“…you couldn’t have told me that before I got up?!”

“You don’t even have muscles anymore,” Nie Mingjue complained. “Your entire body is powered by resentful energy. Why are you still whining?”

Jin Guangyao wished he had a second arm so that he could cross them over his chest and glare. Or put them on his hips and glare. Or even just use them to make a rude gesture more easily done with two hands. “Are we trapped here forever or not?”

“It can be broken from the outside,” Nie Mingjue clarified, rolling his eyes. “I’ll summon Baxia to break it, and then we can use her to fly to the Cloud Recesses.”

“Fine.” Jin Guangyao frowned. “Wait, won’t that alert Huaisang that we’re back?”

“Probably.”

“He’ll boil me alive!”

“Only pieces of you, probably,” Nie Mingjue said, sounding far too smug about the idea. “As long as he knows that I need some of you alive. Maybe I should be the one to keep your head in my closet, this time?”

“It was a treasure room. I didn’t keep you in a closet.”

“It was a fucking closet.”

“It wasn’t. It was in a mirror and everything, it’s much more sophisticated.”

“You’re the guy that had a murder closet. Accept it.”

“I refuse to be the guy with the murder closet. Anyway, you can’t let him boil me alive, you don’t know what’ll happen if you let him do that.” He thought about it, and specifically about Nie Mingjue’s prioritization between risk and reward. “Please don’t let Huaisang boil me alive.”

“I’ll consider speaking in your favor if you stop being so annoying.”

“On second thought, I don’t have nerves anymore and can’t feel pain. Bring on the boil.”

“Are we really going to have to do this for the rest of our lives?” Nie Mingjue wondered, sounding depressed.

“For the rest of eternity,” Jin Guangyao said, equally grim. “That’s why we have to get to er-ge in time to convince him to cultivate to immortality. If I had to wait alone with you until he reincarnates, I’ll go insane.”

“You’re already insane.”

“I’ll lose the ability to stop talking.”

“…Xichen cultivating to immortality it is.” Nie Mingjue thought about it. “Do you think we could convince Huaisang to…?”

“No,” Jin Guangyao said. “You couldn’t get him to cultivate to competent; who could get him to cultivate to immortality?”

The answer to that, as they discovered when they arrived at the Cloud Recesses, was apparently Lan Xichen.

“Did I need to know this?” Jin Guangyao complained, unable to believe that he’d returned from the dead as a fierce corpse and managed to regain his sanity and even work with Nie Mingjue to get to the Cloud Recesses in order to apologize to his sworn brother for all the wrongs he’d done to him, only to be stuck waiting outside in the rain while said sworn brother finished banging his other sworn brother’s little brother. “I didn’t need to know this.”

“Shut up,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m practicing meditation in order to block out sound from my ears. Maybe I should remove my head again? Do you think that would help?”

“Nothing will help,” Jin Guangyao said as another set of enthusiastic shouting emerged through the too-thing walls. “Ever. My mind is scarred permanently.”

“Maybe that’ll improve it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

They stood in silence for a little while, the only sounds the howling of the wind and also the howling from inside the room.

“…how long do you think it’ll take for them to finish and notice we’re here?” Jin Guangyao considered. “Maybe we could throw rocks?”

“It took five years for us to get out of that coffin,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can wait five minutes for them to finish.”

“It’d be funny if we threw rocks and then appeared in the window, dark figures silhouetted by lightning. Like in those scary puppet plays. They might never have sex again.”

“I value my brother’s happiness over your petty desire to ruin his sex life,” Nie Mingjue said, then grimaced at a particularly loud yowl. “As tempting as the thought might be.”

“We’ll wait, then,” Jin Guangyao said. “And then we’re all going to have some words.”

“Of course we are. Because you don’t shut up.”

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part 26

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,991

Warning: Smut, Pregnancy Mentioned

Four months had passed and you had finally moved in with Cillian and Charlie who had become too much for his mother to handle.

After several letters to and from Nadine’s lawyer, it was decided that Charlie should have the choice. He was old enough and, unsurprisingly, he chose to be living with his father full time.

But full time didn’t mean that he didn’t see his mother. Whenever he wanted, he organised to see her and stay over at her place, probably around once or twice per week and all he had to do was to inform Cillian.

For Hendrix on the other hand, not much had changed and Nadine and Cillian were sharing custody which, for once, had started to work now that Nadine had finally met someone else.

The irony in it all was that it was your father who had introduced them at school pick up. He was a single father whose son attended the same school and, just like your father, he worked in theatre.

‘How nice, an invitation from your ex’ you said as you opened the mail over breakfast.

‘To what?’ Cillian asked almost surprised.

‘Her partner’s new play’ you said somewhat perplexed, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Who would have thought that this would ever happen, eh?’ Cillian chuckled and you nodded in agreement as, suddenly, the doorbell rang.

You remembered that Cillian had invited Enda and your father over to discuss the premier of their own new play the following, but your father had been sick so only Enda could make it.

‘Look at you two with matching slippers’ Enda laughed as he walked in to the kitchen and noticed that you both started to look like an old married couple who was shopping at Primark.

‘You know what it’s like man. First, they move in, then they take over all of the cabinet space and then they start buying you clothes like this’ Cillian chuckled as he looked down at his fluffy Easter Bunny slippers, causing you to give him a nudge of disapproval.

After you offered Enda a coffee and Cillian had gotten the initial small talk out of the way, Enda started to discuss the play and then his birthday weekend in two months.  

It was his 50th birthday and he had booked a large cottage in Kerry for a long weekend. Amongst two other couples, Cillian, you, your father and your stepmother were going to join him and, whilst you thought that this might become awkward, you were also really excited about it.

‘I just wanted to talk with you guys about something in advance’ Enda then said as he brought up the getaway.

‘Lorraine is pregnant’ Cillian then said with a smile, referring to Enda’s wife who, herself, was only in her early thirties.

‘How did you know?’ Enda then asked.

‘Her boobs have gotten bigger’ Cillian said with a serious voice, causing Enda’s chin to drop and Cillian to break out in laughter.

‘I am just fucking with you man. She didn’t drink at the pub the other night’ Cillian then explained before you both congratulated him.

‘I thought I should tell you in advance, because this might be a bit of a sore point for you guys and I can understand if this bothers you, being around not one, but two pregnant couples for my birthday’ Enda explained, referring to your miscarriage and the fact that, to the best of his knowledge, you hadn’t fallen pregnant again yet.

‘We appreciate that Enda, really’ you said before giving him a hug and telling him how excited you were for Lorraine before asking him a bunch of questions. You knew that Cillian’s brother’s wife was also pregnant and it was indeed going to be a weekend full of baby talk for Enda’s 50th.

After you talked about pregnancies and babies for a while, you decided to leave Cillian and Enda to it as they had more to discuss about the play and Enda had warned you on numerous occasions that Cillian would get quite exhausted during times of on-stage performance.

***

Just as you walked out of the room, you could hear Enda ask Cillian in private about your plans to have children.

‘I know the pregnancy was an accident but, are you guys trying again?’ he then said quietly and carefully.

‘No man, we are not trying. We’ve been together for less than a year, there is no rush’ Cillian said, causing your mood to sadden slightly.

Whilst you didn’t want Cillian to know, the news Enda had broken to you that morning was difficult for you to digest.  

You weren’t trying, yet you knew that you would be excited if you were to fall pregnant again.

Cillian was an amazing father to his boys and, just last night, you found several pictures of him with them when they were babies.

He looked so happy and so content and you wanted to experience this for yourself and with your own children. The photos made your heart melt and fill with an unfamiliar warmth. He was outright beautiful in them, holding his boys, caring for them and loving them the way he did.

***

Later that evening, Cillian received a text from Charlie telling him that he would be staying with his mother for the night.

‘No kids tonight, do you want to go out for dinner?’ Cillian asked as he looked up from his phone just as you came walking out of the bathroom.

‘No’ you said, biting your lip as you approached Cillian.

‘I have a different idea, common’ you said as you took Cillian by the hand and began leading him upstairs, forgetting your robe on the floor.

‘I think I might like whatever idea you have’ Cillian chuckled as he followed you into the bedroom, where you turned around and pressed yourself again him, kissing him deeply and passionately.

‘Oh, I most defiantly like your idea’ Cillian said eagerly before taking off his t-shirt and pulling your body even closer to him, enthralled by the feel of your skin against his.  

As you kissed, you began to pull Cillian’s shorts down over his hips until they dropped to the floor. His rapidly-swelling cock pressed against your smooth pussy now while you wrapped your arms around another and kissed hungrily, tongues slithering into one another's mouths.

‘God, I love you so much, Cillian’ you moaned through your kiss. ‘I'm so in love with you’ you added, showing your affection.

‘I love you too, Y/N’ was his reply and your hands wandered freely around one another's bodies now, exploring and groping eagerly.

‘I want to taste you’ he then exclaimed and he didn't wait for an answer but simply pushed you backwards until your knees touched the edge of the bed and you buckled with a gasp at his directness, falling onto the bed.

You had barely bounced on the mattress before you spread your legs wantonly, inviting Cillian to lick your already wet pussy. As he leaned in, you reached down and used your fingers to spread your netherlips wide, exposing yourself to him. Your coral-coloured inner pink glistened, begging for Cillian’s tongue.

You moaned loudly and shuddered as he finally pressed his mouth to your pussy, snaking his tongue inside you. You tasted sweet and Cillian felt your legs wrap around his shoulders while your hands tangled in his hair, rocking his head. Cillian’s hands clamped down on your thighs, pinning you to him while he began to lash your slit mercilessly. There was no foreplay involved, he just wanted you as wet as possible for when he fucked you.

‘Oh God, Cillian’ you gasped, almost doubling over as he tortured you. ‘Fuck, you're going to make me cum’ you groaned.

You pushed up with your hips suddenly, crushing your pussy to his face and gripping his head tightly. Your groan of pleasure was guttural and shameless as you came and Cillian couldn’t believe how quickly you had cum.

‘Three fucking minutes, I am good’ Cillian smirked as he looked at his watch but, before he had time to think about anything else, you pulled him up to your face and kissed him, hard. Your tongue plunged into his mouth, tangling with his as you tasted yourself greedily. Your hips ground against his, your sopping pussy hungry for Cillian’s swollen, throbbing cock.

‘Fuck me, Cillian…I need you inside me’ you groaned after you pulled back from the kiss, your eyes flashing with lust.

‘Fuck me and make me scream as you cum inside me’ you then said eagerly and desperately.

‘You want me to cum inside you?’ Cillian asked somewhat surprised by your request and you nodded before pulling him close for another kiss.

‘Yes, please…’ you then huffed out and Cillian nodded and pinned you down, your loud moan all he could hear as he pressed his cock head between your slippery lips and sank deep inside you.

You pressed back up against Cillian, taking him in to the hilt. Your hands grabbed his ass cheeks and you began bucking voraciously.

Cillian looked down into your eyes and you stared back into his intently, lost in one another. He slid his cock in and out of your pussy, which flexed and gripped him tightly as you established a heated rhythm between you. Your legs wrapped around Cillian’s waist and you rocked against him.

You made no attempt to prolong your lovemaking, you just wanted to cum together. You could feel the sweat on your bodies as you fucked, panting as you stared into one another's eyes. The sticky, wet sucking sounds of Cillian’s member pushing back and forth inside you made you both wild with desire. His balls slapped against you as he pushed harder and harder, propping himself on top of you with his hands.

‘Oh god Cillian, yes’ you gasped, your eyes wide, your whole body shaking as your orgasm washed over you. Cillian pressed desperately, trying to reach as deep inside you as he could, knowing very well why you wanted him to cum inside you.

He arched his back as that tingling, boiling fire welled up in him and he clenched his teeth as he strained, calling out your name.

You crushed yourself on to Cillian, crying out loudly, your pussy devouring his seed as he filled you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

As the warm sticky fluids covered your cervix, your nails raked along his back. You almost wailed as you came, eyes squeezed shut while you worked your pussy around his cock. You pulled Cillian down to you and you kissed deeply and lovingly, expressing your deepest emotions for one another and you never wanted this moment to end.

‘I love you’ Cillian then said as he finally sagged down on top of you and you hugged him gently, almost purring as you whispered in his ear about how much you loved him too.

Your lips planted soft kisses along his neck and shoulder while your fingers caressed his back. He still moved slowly in and out of you and you squeezed the last drops of cum from him with your pussy until, eventually he pulled out and slowly rolled onto his back, bringing you with him to lean against his chest.

‘So, I assume that you want to fall pregnant again?’ Cillian asked, his heart still beating fast.

‘Yes…uhm…do you?’ you asked knowing that your question came a bit late as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

‘I think I answered this question when I came inside you’ Cillian chuckled before he grabbed a pillow from the floor and propped it beneath you.

You looked at him somewhat confused and he grinned.

‘Just making sure it stays in, eh?’ Cillian laughed before giving you another kiss.

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[weirdochick56]

The Bodyguard 2- Bucky Barnes AU

Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, insults, snark, and sassy!Buckster sexy times (ok, so maybe only slightly sexy)

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots or Characters mentioned

Word Count: 5, 173 words

Summary: The Reader and Bucky’s hate for eachother is at an all time high; she can’t seem to rid herself of him and he, well he can’t seem to get her to cooperate with him. But as their frustrations grow, a late-night outing might just be what they both need to see other parts of eachother. 

A/n: This has been a long time in the making, but I finally felt inspired enough to continue the story. Hope you enjoy it!

~The Bodyguard 1~

***

“You can stop following me now,” you grumble with thorny irritation, rolling your eyes at the tall persistent shadow staying hot on your tail. 

It was in vain to ask him to leave, you knew. Agent Brainless was ridiculously adamant about following you around the moment you stepped foot outside of the palace and he was -infuriatingly so- a stubborn man.

How he knew that you were leaving even when you had concocted what you considered a genius plan to evade those infuriatingly pretty grey irises was beyond you.

He sighs at your words, and you can see the annoyance bubbling to the surface of his cold professional exterior, though he tries his hardest to keep a straight face. 

“Your highness, I think we both know I won’t do that,” he responds simply. “Now if you would please stop being so stubborn and simply do as I ask and come with me to the car so that this is easier for us both...” 

You can tell his patience is wearing thin because, in the past few weeks of having him follow you everywhere you went, you had made it a point to figure out his exact breaking point. 

And as you continue making your escape to town like he isn’t even there, you know that so is yours. If there’s anything that can give you that deep burning satisfaction you sought with everything you did, it was pissing Agent Barnes off.

He had patiently asked you to retreat back the way you came so he could “safely” transport you in a castle-owned car, but you refused redundantly because your friend was already waiting for you, but maybe also because you loved the little twitch of his eye every time you refused to listen to his directions.

If you were being completely honest, he really should’ve been asking you to come back to the castle and not go to a club in town at all- as per your father’s orders. But you weren’t fond of said orders and you definitely didn’t want some dark and mysterious shadow following you around during a night of fun with friends. 

“No,” is all you say because in the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him you’ve noticed he’s the most infuriated when your responses are curt and nonchalant. 

You want to see him snap oh so bad...seeing those steely grays lose their cool? Gold. 

“Princess...” he growls in warning, daring you to cut that little thread of control he had left in him with your sharp tongue. 

You don’t look back at him even once enjoying the thrill that travels up your spine at his low-timbre words and the way his voice travels straight to your core, tugging at your short black dress lightly. 

You wanted to see what he would do should he be pushed over the edge. It was fun.

“I already told you, I’m not listening to you. My friend is already waiting for me. And I’m sorry if you have an issue with- Ahh!” Your words choke back into your throat and morph into a shocked yelp when big rough hands grip your hips, spinning you around and without much of a warning, lifting you with incredible ease.

Before you know it, you’re being carelessly thrown over a broad, strong shoulder.

You let out a small ‘oomph’ when the wind gets knocked out of you and all you see is a firm ass, the blood rushing to your head. 

“What the hell do your think you’re doing you absolute buffoon?!” You screech hysterically, wriggling aggressively against his hold on your thighs. 

He barely flinches, only wrapping his muscular arm tighter around your legs and adjusting you on his shoulder like it was a mere midnight stroll for him and you weighed no more than what a feather did. 

“I’m taking you to the car,” he informs as if it’s obvious, voice full with obnoxious satisfaction. 

“Get your filthy hands off me this instant you utter and complete idiot!” You growl, twisting harshly but he doesn’t let go so you start pounding on his firm back with your fists, fighting to free yourself of him. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He just laughs at what seems to be your weak attempts to break away. He laughs.

You gasp at the absolute and complete audacity he has of laughing when he’s treating you, the single heir to the Androvian throne, like a sack of potatoes. 

“You ass!” You wriggle around some more, tugging at his hands to try to pry them off your legs but all he does is smack them away as if they were mere pesky flies. 

“I may be,” he chokes back a small snort but only barely. “But at least I’m the only ass trying to keep your reckless self in check, princess.”

Indignation, humiliation, and utter vexation all burn deep inside you like a thrumming fire ready to ravage everything in its way when it got the chance to escape your body as you slowly fall limp against him. 

Resignation comes hand in hand with the deep desire for revenge and you fist your hands in deep ache to somehow exercise it. 

He carries you all the way to the garage of cars in the back part of the castle, walks over to a black SUV out of all the expensive cars to choose from, opens it and all but throws you into the back leather seats like you’re not a fucking human, much less the princess of the land he’s currently stepping in. 

You land flat on your back in the smooth leather interior of the luxury SUV with a small thud and instantly sit up to glare at him heatedly. “Do you have any idea who I am? Be gentle, you brute!” 

Annoyingly enough, he simply ignores you and leans over your body. His heat floods through your bare skin and feels good for a second and you subtly inhale his musky scent as he tugs on the seatbelt, roughly pulling it over you. 

You forget about your hatred for him for a split second and that only makes you angrier when it comes back full force. 

You fucking idiot, Y/n. 

In a last and desperate attempt of defiance, you try to push his hands away to which he responds by firmly pressing you back by your shoulder into your seat and staring you dead in the eye with blazing grey eyes. 

The fire that swirls in them is...something. Not necessarily scary, but intimidating and...something else.

Something that makes your skin flush and your nerves throb to life. 

You stare right back, tilting your chin up to show him you weren’t backing down or scared of him and his brute force. He got too under your skin and you knew you got under his which only offered you only a limited amount of comfort. 

He clenches his jaw as he clicks the seatbelt into place, never looking away from your challenging gaze. As if to stick another dagger into your burning insides. As if to reassert his power here. 

Your labored breaths are all that can be heard for miles to come in the calm night air and he leans close for a second, your heaving chests gently brushing.

Not meaning for it to happen, you feel your nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of your black party dress and you wonder if you imagine his hands clenching around your shoulder -his fingers digging into your flesh with suppression- or the sly flick of his eyes from your eyes to your lips. 

You wonder if you imagine the look of heat that passes over his eyes when your breaths mix the second time seems to stop and an overwhelming emotion washes over you. 

But then it’s gone as soon as it came and hatred burns deep in your belly once more. So deep that it hurts and brings painful tears to your eyes, your nose burning so hard you can’t focus through your blurry vision.

You lean in closer, so close your nose is brushing just barely against his and pause for a second. A second of torture for him, a second of uncertainty, a second where his breath catches and his pupils dilate. 

Then you speak, voice trembling with overwhelming anger. 

“I have never,” you whisper, licking your lips. “Been treated with such disrespect.” You swallow hard, cheeks red with humiliation. 

You see a flash of guilt in his eyes but it’s quickly replaced by his usual look of cool professionalism- not even anger anymore. Not even that.

And he leans right back into you, a wave of heat passing over both of you. “Then learn to listen next time. It’s for your safety.” 

And just like that he’s drawing back, slamming the passenger door closed and climbing into the driver’s seat- leaving you cold and angry beyond reason.

A moment of tense silence passes before he releases a tiny sigh and breaks it by turning on the ignition. 

“Where are we going?”

*

BUCKY’S POV

I watch her laugh at something one of her friends says from a dark corner of the club and it’s hard not to stare for reasons other than my duty being just that...to look after her. 

The club was a luxurious one, with high ceilings, intricate designs and a VIP section where we were immediately escorted to.

Her Highness’s friends, a blonde guy and girl who had nodded at me in polite acknowledgment were already waiting for her there and I assumed that the few seconds when she had stopped her sulking and taken out her phone from her clutch were the seconds she was texting her friends to meet her there instead. 

I would never admit it, but I enjoyed watching her cave. It was like taming a wild horse, even if momentarily. 

Princess Y/n was a brat, plain and simple. Selfish, childish, and feisty as hell, I had never met anyone as completely and utterly vexing as her and to say these past few weeks had been hell would be an understatement. 

If I wasn’t so good at my job, I would’ve lost her already. She threw me for a loop any chance she got, cutting corners and doing everything she could to avoid my protection. 

As I stared at her with that pretty ass smile on her annoyingly beautiful face, it’s hard to imagine that that was the same person pushing every single one of my buttons just a few minutes before. 

She actually looked relaxed and...nice?

God, she infuriated me in ways I had no idea I could be infuriated, discovered buttons I didn’t know I had and pushed them to the point I had to throw her over my damn shoulder like a sack of flour.

I was a professional, for God’s sake. Had always been one with every single one of the cases I was assigned, so why was she the one to get under my skin?

...And why did I enjoy having her perfectly round ass so close to my face? Why did I keep thinking about the defiance in those stupidly big eyes over and over like I....craved it?

I wondered to myself as I watched her take down a shot by the bar. She glanced at me over her shoulder, still smiling, but it quickly melted away when our gazes clashed and my own mood soured instantly. 

I grimaced when she looked away as if I had burnt her with my eyes and quickly pulled my head out of the gutter. 

The fact that she was utterly gorgeous didn’t change how annoying she was. Not to mention I was here on a job. 

One I fully intended to complete, no matter how fucking difficult the client was.

*

The night moves on at a slow pace for me. The princess parties and I watch her like a hawk, making sure not to let her get too wild. 

So far I had pried off five guys who were trying their luck with her. From what I’d read on her file and the extensive research I’d done online, her face wasn’t really well known. 

She was always kept  secret and would be until she was crowned queen of Androvia- some weird old belief or something- so not many people knew what she looked like. 

Meaning, these guys probably didn’t know who they were trying to get all handsy with on the dance floor and would only assume was some rich daddy’s girl once my towering form appeared and nicely escorted them away. 

For the most part nicely, anyway. Some I had to get a little rougher with. 

I make sure to keep my eyes glued on her form, ignoring the way she moved her hips in that tiny black dress. It hugged her alluring curves like a glove and I swallowed hard as she grinded on her female friend, head thrown back and a free smile on her face. 

“She is...beautiful, isn’t she?” 

I calmly turn towards the voice as it hums out from beside me, turning to see the guy she came with. He takes a sip of his drink, smirking as his eyes remain on the way the princess waves her hands in the air to the beat of the song, sensually shaking her hips as if she was one with the sexy R&B song I had no idea the name of. 

I clear my throat, remaining stock still in my bodyguard pose. “Sir, I”m only here to protect her Highness. I really don’t-”

“Oh don’t even try to hide it. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in this whole club.”

He takes my silence as confirmation, it seems, because he proceeds to speak on as if I’ve agreed.

“But it’s not just her physical appearance is it? It’s something else. Something...inside,” he whispers. 

When I don’t respond, he continues bitterly. “I’m warning you; don’t fall for her. It’ll only bring you a world of pain, trust me.”

I catch the pain in his voice and stiffen. “I would never fall for one of my subjects, sir,” I assure him.

He laughs sourly. “Sure bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insist, swallowing thickly as she laughs, beautiful smile wide and her laughter too melodious to be coming out of such a wretched little urchin. 

“Well,” he coughs suddenly, clapping me in the shoulder. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I eye his hand which he slowly pries off and shake my head with a slightly clenched jaw.

“I’m on the job, sir,” I remain calm and professional despite the fact that all I wanted to do was break that hand for putting stupid thoughts in my head. 

Because for a second there, as the bright club lights shun down on her, I could see what he talked about when he said there was something inside. In that smile, those eyes, that laugh...

But then she made eye contact with me and the feeling turned bitter so quick it’s a miracle I didn’t get whiplash. 

She was a brat. Nothing more.

*

YOUR POV

Sometime late into the night, you had found myself fairly buzzed. Not enough to fall on your face, but enough that walking- well, stumbling over to Agent Asshole only seemed more and more attractive an action.

He glances at you with those eyes and you can’t help the anger the bubbles within you. “Do you plan on staring me down the entire night?”

“It’s my job,” is all he says. 

You scowl fiercely at him. “I hate you,” you seethe.

He raises a dark brow but otherwise keeps that stoic expression on his face. “Do you want to leave, your Highness?”

His neutral tone and complete lack of reaction only angers you more and you shake your head furiously. “No, I don’t want to leave. I want you to leave though.”

He presses his lips firmly together. “I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re not.”

“Huh?” He cocks his side slightly to the side and you lean closer to him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“I said; you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You feel your drunken emotions deep in your chest and without much effort, your voice quickly escalates.

He sighs heavily. “Okay, your highness, I think it’s time I take you back to the castle. C’mon,” he waves a hand toward the door.

You laugh at him coldly, shaking your head. “Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Know your place asshole, you are below me- never forget,” you growl snarkily, leaning right into his face.

You feel his breathing quicken against your cheeks the longer you defiantly smirk up at him, his calm eyes darkening.

You realized you enjoyed pushing him to the edge, that you craved this look on his face...

He smirks mockingly down at you, staring you down. “You can come willingly, your highness, or I can throw you over my shoulder like last time.” He leans straight into your ear, whispering hotly. “I’m sure you would rather not go through the embarrassment.”

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering against your chest and you’re not sure it’s from anger anymore. With disgust, you jerk away from him, glaring holes into his head.

“Let’s go.”

*

“You can go, Agent Obnoxious,” you mumble drunkenly, waving a dismissive hand at him as you stumble into your warm room, practically ripping off your heels.

You throw them somewhere in the corner of the large room, sighing with relief when you feel your bare feet touching the soft carpeted floor. 

Your knees shake slightly and buckle and you end up tripping forward.

You land on the ground with a soft grunt and for some reason, laughter bubbles deep in your chest.

“Your Highness!”

A few seconds later, you feel strong warm hands wrapping around your body to heave you up. You place your hands on his strong arms for support and look up at Agent Barnes.

The laughter immediately dies on your lips when you see a beautiful concerned frown of engraved deep in his face. It looks so sincere and his arms are so strong...

Before you know what you’re doing, a small mumble is leaving your lips. “You...” you cut yourself off abruptly when his eyes meet yours.

His hands now rest lightly on your waist, and you’re so close you can smell him. His scent is deep and rich and manly, so unlike the scent of those rich assholes you were forced to mingle with on a daily basis.

And his hands, are strong and resilient. The callouses on them tells you that he’s worked his entire life. Those hands, the ones holding you right now, They’ve probably handled a gun, they’ve probably saved so many lives...

You bite your lip, thinking about the way those hands felt on the skin of your arm and how heavenly it would feel if it traveled all over.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you crane up your neck to stare up at him.

He stares down at you, and even when your room is dark, the light of the moonlight that filters in from the huge window highlights the heavy tension in his gaze.

You’re both unmoving and you wonder if he enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy his touch.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to your lips and eyes and then back.

You want to ask him what he’s thinking. You want to tell him to just do it -to just kiss you because you wouldn’t dare push him away- not in this state, not when the alcohol and his scent and eyes were clogging every single sense and reason you had, but you’re afraid to break the spell of whatever this was. 

So instead, you wait on abated breath, feeling like you’re both on the verge of something utterly earth-shattering, for him to move.

Finally, he speaks a few seconds later and it’s a quiet murmur. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

You ignore the sharp sting of his rejection when you were so clearly begging him to kiss you and step away from his touch as if he’s burnt you.

You turn around so he can’t see the hurt in your eyes. “You can go now Agent Brainless,” you say coldly over your shoulder, but you know it’s a lot softer than the other time.

Another second passes. “Princess..” he whispers.

You ignore his barely audible whisper and angrily begin undressing, tugging at the straps of your dress.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He growls lowly as you begin to pull your dress down to your waist.

With a sarcastic smile, your turn towards him, your top half completely naked aside from your black lacy bra.

His gaze immediately falls on your half-naked chest, but aside from the small flicker in his eyes and gulp he takes, he gives no other indication of shock.

You raise a brow. “Are you going to watch me undress now too, Agent Barnes?” You ask mockingly.

His eyes find yours again and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them. They send shivers through your whole body and you almost give into the urge to look away, but the anger and frustration within you don’t allow your gaze to waver.

“I’m not leaving until you’re safely in bed,” he husks, clearly trying his best to remain professional and cold as his icy stare bores into your eyes- purposefully looking away from your naked form.

You tilt your head up at him innocently, slowly sauntering closer to him. “Oh? Well in that case, do you mind helping me with the zipper of my dress? It’s stuck.”

You turn your back on him and a smirk blossoms in your face as you hear his breathing strain, your ass slightly brushing against his crotch area. 

He blows out a shaky exhale and it blows against your naked back, all hot and angry. 

When he makes no move to help you, you look at him over your shoulder. “Well?” 

His grave expression doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that,” he says lowly. 

But even as he resentfully spits this, he doesn’t budge and his eyes are still tracing over your body, their electric desire leaving goosebumps over wherever they ran over.

You roll your eyes at him. “Then turn around, you idiot.” 

He growls, fisting his hands and clenching his jaw tightly but doesn’t try to fight you on it and turns his broad back to you.

You’re intoxicated, so it’s probably because you’re not thinking straight, but as you quickly slip on a silk night gown and stare at his back, you can’t help the deep heavy sadness that sinks into your chest. 

Why hadn’t he kissed you just now? You could’ve sworn he wanted to and you sure as hell did...it was there, the moment, the split second when you were willing to risk it all, to overlook any and all boundaries, cross all imposing lines- but you lost it. 

Pushing your hair to the side, you convince yourself it was for the best. 

“I’m done,” you say softly, climbing into bed. 

Agent Barnes nods at you stiffly, turning on his heels to leave as you get under the covers. Blaming this on your intoxication, you suddenly find yourself exclaiming. 

“Wait!” 

He pauses right before his foot moves outside the doorframe and turns toward you, eyebrows raised. “You need something, Your Highness?”

You stare at him seriously, pressing your head against your pillow. “Don’t...leave, please,” you whisper softly, curling into a ball at the tenderness of your voice.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit quietly. 

He freezes, staring at you as if he’d never seen you before and you avert your gaze, afraid maybe you let on too much. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize, but that only flusters you more. “I-I mean not sorry, you asshole. Just- whatever. I’m in bed now, you can go.” 

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly flip over and turn your back to him.  

Seconds later, you hear the door click close and then nothing. A heavy sigh escapes you and you try to suppress the feeling of disappointment that envelops your whole body. 

You didn’t know if it was the drinks or the cold distant dinners you’d been having with your family...but you had never felt more alone. All the clubbing and trying to escape your destiny by trying to pave a life of your own couldn’t fill in that emptiness you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.  

You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. Not tonight. 

So even if it was your bodyguard who you hated with everything in you, you needed someone just to be there. Even if it was just to sit in silence with.  

Suddenly, you hear a gentle swish noise and gasp lightly, flipping over. Agent Barnes has thrown his jacket over the chair beside your bed and is loosening his tie and he stares at you. His beautiful gaze sucks you in as you blink up at him in surprise. 

He shrugs. “I can’t just....leave you here alone.” 

Your chest clenches painfully and warmth travels all over your body like warm gooey honey. The feeling of having someone there for you when you need them most is almost overwhelmingly strong. 

“Thank you,” you whisper so quietly, you’re shocked he even hears it. 

He tilts his head at you, frowning with that handsome face of his. “For what? It’s my job.” 

There he goes detaching himself. With a gentle shrug, you nod and curl into a ball under your covers, trying to covet sleep. 

You try this for a few minutes and you’re tired, but you can’t help thinking about Agent Barnes sitting in a hard chair all night. After a while of tossing and turning, you sit up. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathe with irritation. 

“What? What happened?” he sits up instantly, and though you could tell he was on the verge of dozing off, his sharp senses are impressive as he reaches for the gun on his ankle frantically. 

You sigh, hating the way your cheeks grow hot and you look away timidly. “Just get into bed,” you say roughly. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, looking at him in the eyes. “I said; get into bed with me. That chair is uncomfortable.” 

He laughs lightly. “Princess, I was trained by the world’s best assassins. I was taught to sleep on a cold concrete ground if need be.” He gives the chair a firm pat. “This chair is a luxury for a guy like me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, wondering more about his past before lightly shaking your head. 

“I don’t care. I still feel bad that I made you sleep here on a chair. Just get in already, will you?” You growl at his stubbornness. “The bed is huge, there’ll be enough space for the both of us, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you add on, softly. 

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he finally relents with a small sigh. “Fine.” 

Hesitantly, he cuffs his sleeves and perches himself on the edge of the bed- all stiff and tight. “Good?” He asks, glancing at you with raised brows.

You frown. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re not actually planning to sleep like that are you?” You snort. 

“I told you-”

“That you were trained by dangerous assassins, yeah yeah. But you’re still a human and a ridiculous one at that,” you scoff before suddenly smirking.  “You’re not afraid of lil old me, are you? I’m tiny- I couldn’t possibly hurt you...too much,” you offer him a faux innocent smile, batting your lashes. 

He stares at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh trust me, I’ve met girls like you before. You definitely don’t bite.” 

You raise a brow amusedly. “Girls like me?”

His sexy smirk widens. “Yeah. You’re all bark but no bite,” he replies vaguely.

Feeling partially indignant and partially curious, you decide to probe him for answers. “Oh yeah?”

He can’t resist your subtle challenge and continue speaking. “You’re always in power, constantly being chased after because you’re beautiful and rich and you act like it’s what you want in a guy, but it isn’t, is it?”

Deeply intrigued by his generally accurate analysis, you can’t help but laugh. “Oh?”

“No.” He stares deeply into your eyes and the smile slips off your lips as he says his next words with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You bark out orders and you take on responsibilities like a boss, but what you really want is a man. Not a pushover boy that’ll listen to your every command and constantly try to please you, fall at your feet...But a man that’ll choke slam you on the bed, that’ll make you his, that’ll torture you with the deepest pits of hellish pleasure until he ruins every other man for you. You want to be controlled, brought over the edge so far you won’t ever be able to go there by yourself and then at the last moment get that taken away from you. You want to be used.” 

You openly gape at him but he ignores you and slightly scoots closer, still at a safe distance, but close enough where you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“Sleep, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At first, you’re too shocked to react. Your heart is positively hammering against your ribcage and your cheeks are uncharacteristically red. You were flushed. How had he managed to...’you know what?’ You think. ‘No.’ 

You breathe in deeply. ‘ I’m not going to think about it anymore.’

Because doing so would mean letting him win. And also, never mind the fact that he’s in your bed right now...

Decidedly, you squeeze your eyes shut, begging sleep to come amidst all your stupid, surely drunken thoughts about your stupid bodyguard and kissing him, or simply straddling him right now...

Despite how much you disliked him, you felt safe and protected, like you could let your guard down. And yet...not enough. 

Soon, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of his body, you curl into a ball and slowly let your heavy lids close, relaxing completely.

“Oh, and Agent Brainless?” you murmur, on the very verge of sleep. 

“Yes, princess?” He looks at you. 

You manage to send him one last cold smirk before answering.  

“Don’t misinterpret this, right now. I’m merely asking you to do your job.” 

And then darkness takes over.

Before fully giving into the softness of the darkness of slumber, though, you think you hear him laugh softly and say something like “wouldn’t dream of it, brat.” 

****

They’re honestly growing on me. Should I continue?

ALSO YALL SEE TFATWS????  SEBASTIAN LOOKS SO DARN GOOD PLEASEEEEEE

A special thanks to:

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

@mo-onstarrs

@loveofmychips @juliesland​

[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[redjaybathood]

false dichotomy

When Jason and Bruce find out about Gloria, Bruce doesn't let him leave. They wait outside the building, sitting on the steps. Jason, who ten minutes ago was struggling in Bruce's clutches, kicking and screaming how he would take down that bastard, now has all fight gone out of him.

Jason sees her body on the stretcher, in a black bag, being wheeled into the ambulance. He can't; he drops his head into Bruce's lap, and Bruce covers him with the cape, hiding his crying from the outside world.

"It's not over, Robin," Bruce says. "He won't be held accountable for rape or inciting suicide on the USA soil. But we have enough on his father's drug operations. I shared this information both with local authorities and with a vigilante back in South America. The United States is not the only country in the world that has crime fighters, you know. After we crippled his money-making operations, let's see how he will buy his way out of prison. Hey."

Bruce touches his shoulder, squeezes.

"He will get his, I promise."

Jason sits up straight, blinking furiously.

"So what," he says in that dumb from crying voice, and he does not care who listens, just as he didn't care when he raved in Batman's grip how he will kill Garzonas. Of course, it would never happen. But he wanted to. He wanted. "We just go home?"

"For now, yes."

They do, indeed, go home. Bruce engages autopilot and sits back, eyes squeezed shut. Jason turns away from him to look at the window, where the cityscape changes 70 miles per hour, but everything always remains the same. Nothing Jason does ever makes a dent.

It's exhausting, he's exhausted - tired that there aren't any reliable solutions. They do their best and it's still not enough.

They both are tired, maybe, because all the way home neither says anything. But in the Cave, after they showered and changed, as Jason is ready to head to his room (tomorrow is a school day, he has to get some sleep, even if he knows he is not getting any), Bruce stops him and leads him to his own room.

"You don't want to leave me alone?" Jason asks grimly, as Bruce gently shoves him towards the bed. "Afraid I will sneak out and do what I threatened to?"

Bruce gets the lights, gets under the cowers, and tugs Jason to himself. Jason's face almost mushed into his collarbone, and Bruce's chin rests atop his curls.

"No," Bruce says. "Afraid I will. You can't... You can't imagine the urge - I want, Jason. The thing you screamed, in desperation, out of powerlessness, at the sight of her... I want to do it. I know how. And without leaving evidence, too. Please stay with me tonight."

"Alright," Jason murmurs into him, lips touching the hot skin. He sneaks his hands around Bruce, and moves, so his weight is now slightly on top of Jason. Like his personal weighted blanket. He moves his foot, the ball of his foot presses to the small of Bruce's back. This way, neither of them is going anywhere.

"Alright."

He feels Bruce relaxing into him, bit by bit. Instead of his chin, it's his mouth that presses to the top of Jason's head. His hand moves into soothing circles on Jason's back, and Jason mirrors the gesture.

The sleep still doesn't come.

"Have you ever... Have you ever felt those urges before?"

"Every damn time," Bruce replies. "When I face something... Something truly heinous, or something personal, or something I can't fix. The man who killed my father, it's an accident that I wasn't the one to kill him. A rapist, who killed five women, my friend among them. She was an heiress, like me, but left the safety of her parents' home to become a social worker. The people she helped lived mostly at South Heights. That was his hunting ground. Her own heart, her empathy, her desire to fix this broken city led her straight into his hands. And I almost killed the wrong man over it. Not an innocent one - but not for this particular crime. And then, the Joker. After what he did to Gordons, I found him. I thought: this is it. This ends tonight. And he thought the same. Was gleeful already. I was proving him right: one bad day..."

"But you didn't," Jason raises his head to meet his eyes, and Bruce lowers his.

Their mouths meet. For a second, everything is frozen, but then Bruce is pulling away and Jason gets on top of him, presses him into the mattress, and catches his hands.

"You didn't," he insists, stream-rolling through the awkwardness. "You won't. What bad day, what bullshit. Every day of my life before meeting you was bad, and some of them after. That's life. It's hard and unfair and it sucks. You make it better, Bruce. Not only for me - for the city. For the world, working with the League, with heroes from other countries. Inspiring people."

There's a ghost of a rueful smile on Bruce's face. The rest of it is hidden in the shadow, the minuscule amount of moonlight really doesn't help to read your partner's expression.

"If you ever feel like you want to kill someone, you come to me, okay?" Jason finishes.

The smile is even more obvious now.

"Why would I, knowing you would stop me?"

"I won't," Jason says firmly. "I will help."

"And what about me being an inspiration?" Bruce asks, in a tone full of curiosity that borders with mockery.

He never used this tone in Jason's memory. Jason doesn't like it. He needs to figure out something to get Bruce out of this mindset. But before that, he finishes his point.

"Then you need to remember that you can inspire not only good but bad in people, too. In me. If you fall, we fall together."

"I promised though," Bruce says, and now he sounds sad. "When you were just starting to learn how to use grapple. I won't let you fall."

Jason shrugs. It's going to be Bruce's decision. Jason just hopes that his willingness to follow Bruce to hell and back will make him think twice about where's he going.

"Alright?" Jason lets go of Bruce's wrists, and Bruce immediately uses his free hands to flip them over.

Now it's Bruce on top and Jason is pressed below him.

"Alright," Bruce says, and kisses his forehead. "Now go to sleep."

With this weight atop of him, Jason falls asleep in minutes.

When he wakes up, he realizes that Bruce moved them, so he wouldn't crush Jason after they both reach their destination: 'dream land'. Now, Bruce is using him as a teddy bear, cuddling from behind.

He also feels Bruce's not completely asleep. A part of him... Is very awake. Damn. If he tries to escape his hold, Bruce is bound to wake up, and then neither of them will be ever able to look each other in the eye.

And while he's frozen, Bruce, in the opposite, starts moving. He must do something, he needs to - but then Bruce presses his lips to his ear and bites, lightly. Jason feels with horror his own body lighting up. Like a switch pressed. He never - it feels like... Bruce rolls his hips, and Jason feels his hardness moving between his thighs, and that's. That's even better.

He clutches Bruce's forearm involuntarily, clawing into it with enough force to draw blood when Bruce moves again, and now he's pressing Jason into the mattress, face down, and the friction intensifies. Bruce starts kissing him now, open-mouthed, wet kisses, on his neck, where it meets his back. Jason moans into the pillow.

And this is apparently enough to wake Bruce up. He freezes and raises from Jason's body - but doesn't let go of him completely, not yet. Jason turns and he sees the sleep-confused expression he expected. And now he really needs to do something. Forget being unable to look at him, Bruce is this close to realization and buying a ticket to Alaska. Or making Alfred drive him to the police station.

Jason catches him into a kiss before he can do any of that.

"'s okay," he says. "If you need it. I want to."

"No," Bruce says and he tries to disengage.

But then Jason kisses him again and moves his hips, and Bruce responds, and all his protests disappear.

Along with their pants.

Jason has his hands full with threading through Bruce's hair. Bruce has his hands on them. He breaks away from Jason's lips only to press one of his own to his throat.

Well, there's Jason's plan to go to school. No way he's leaving this room at all, with a hickey.

It's his last thought before Bruce starts moving faster, and then it's just this. Just Bruce and him. Falling together.

After, when they both can breathe more or less evenly, Bruce turns to him with an expression Jason was afraid of.

"I'm sorry," he says, morosely.

"Aw, come on," Jason says lightly. "You weren't that bad, for an old man. I need dinner first next time."

"Jason. This is serious."

Jason sighs. Turns away from him because what he plans to say next, it's not going to be easy, especially if he sees Bruce's expression.

"Just for the record. This is the most pleasant sexual encounter I ever had. A little unexpected, sure, but for both of us. But really good. I don't, like, want to kill myself or you after it's over. So I will even go as far as to say, it was exemplary. Don't go and make me feel like we did something to be ashamed of. Something horrible. It's not going to help anyone."

"Jason... I'm older, you're my dependent... you're too young..."

"And here I was, thinking I'm your partner. What, I'm not too young to get shot in my stomach, but too young to have sex? You about four years behind on that one."

"Jason..."

"I don't want to talk about it. But just FYI, I know what too young is, and this isn't it."

He turns to look at Bruce and yep, pity and guilt.

"If you treat me like I can't possibly know what I am doing and can't decide by myself because, what, you pay my bills? I'm impressionable youth and look up to you? How do you even rationalize me going out with you every night?"

Bruce gets this stubborn tilt to his jaw.

"Maybe you shouldn't."

"Maybe go fuck yourself. I promise that if I ever find you behaving predatory, I will clean your clock before you can hurt anyone, including me, okay? But this wasn't it. This was an accident. I was totally on board. In fact, I was so on board, I wouldn't mind another round."

He presses the hickey on his neck, falls down on the bed. His other hand moves from his chest lower, lower.

Thank god Bruce's eyes follow his movement, his pupils blown wide. Otherwise, it would become embarrassing really fucking quick.

"Well?" Jason commands, believing that Bruce will know what he means much better than he actually does.

Bruce does.

[akampana]

Oh, oh, how about a Gil vampire lord and arty famous vampire hunter in a eternal rivalry for no.1, kinda Hellsing and dracula rivalry but with a twist

“I couldn’t live with myself, if I didn’t tell you.” Gilgamesh x Arturia Vampire x Hunter. Enjoy!

_______

Three bullets.

Two knives.

One vampire.

Arturia Pendragon clicked the cylinders back into place and brought her weapons up to her chin, the warmth of her breath misting the polished barrel. She was the only thing in this accursed mansion that had any sense of heat, as everything inside was either unlit, inanimate, or dead.

The small hunter cursed the winter. There wasn’t a poorer season for killing vampires than one that was as dark and cold as the night creatures’ hearts. However, she could wait no longer. For generations, her family had pursued the blood-sucking fiends, hoping to one day cease the plague that had haunted their lands. At last, it could come to an end. There would be no need for her little brother to learn to handle a gun as well.

All she had to do was put Gilgamesh to rest.

A sudden movement from the right had her fingers on the triggers, but it was an effort wasted. There was nothing but the creak of wood and a curtain dancing in the cold breeze. However, she was not too quick to drop her guard. The vampire she hunted tonight was older than time and just as wise. Tricks like this were not beyond him. It made his hunts more interesting, she bet.

"There you are, my love."

...

Too slow!

The Pendragon ducked to the floor just in time to hear his palm smash through the stone brick behind her. Aiming her revolvers, she sprang up like a gymnast, twisting midair to face the hellspawn.

Silver shot out of her gun, but she already knew it would miss. Vampires were quite the agile creatures, having shed their human limits in exchange for their souls. Even if Gilgamesh looked mortal like herself, the way he sidestepped fire at such a short distance clearly suggested otherwise.

The soles of her boots screeched against the floor as she secured her landing by chucking the revolver at her opponent. Empty guns were useless in fights that required all her attention, but thankfully, this one had extra utility against creatures of the night.

When a high pitched squeak more suited to a frightened pig passed her old rival's lips, she knew she'd made a successful play.

"A silver-barrelled gun? Ha! And here I believed you had exhausted all your options," the older one smirked, the skin of his hands hissing from the contact. "That must have cost your family the entire treasury, my dearest Arturia. Who did this once belong to, hm? Was it your father's? Grandfather's? Great-grandfather's?"

Arturia grimaced as she snatched one of her knives from her heel.

"Killing your kind brings quite the fortune,” she answered, as per their usual simultaneous verbal bouts. “I can buy a hundred more with the price on your head, Gilgamesh."

She spun the blade round her fingers to provoke him, stopping in a backhand grip.

"More of your distractions, girl?" he sneered, just a hint of irritation breaking through his haughty mask. "It will take more than parlor tricks to fell the likes of me!"

Arturia lunged like a fencer, weaving through his usual jabs till she nicked his skin, lamenting how terribly shallow the cut was. As her breaths began to labor, her eyes flickered to the hallway, debating whether or not she could make a break for it. There was no outmatching a vampire in a direct dance to death, but she’d already made that play. Gilgamesh was not going to let her go a second time-

A sharp hiss was the woman’s only warning before his hands seized her throat.

No!

Desperately, she fired the gun at his knee, but all it did was have him bruise her skull on the floor instead of the wall, flinging her around like she weighed nothing.

The woman kicked and thrashed, but for all her effort, all she managed was a slash to his face before he rid her of her knife. Black spots began to cloud her vision, but Arturia took aim even as her lungs began to burn.

She had one bullet. One final attempt to make sure no Pendragon would ever have to take up the craft again. She had to spare poor Arthur. Only six and already being taught how to wield a knife. Igraine was already planning to take him out to hunt foxes. Arthur loved foxes. God. She had to make this one shot. Just this last one. For his sake. Please.

It didn’t take Gilgamesh any effort to bat her gun away.

Arturia’s emerald eyes locked with those of her assailant’s. Her whole life, she’d trained for this day, only to still come up short. It didn’t matter, the thousands that had fallen to her technique. She was still no match for him, not even after all this time.

Her nails clawed into the skin of his knuckles as Gilgamesh dipped down toward her shoulder, no doubt preparing to sink his teeth into her jugular.

Was this how she was going to meet her end? So close to finally ridding the continent of every vampire there was? So close to liberating her brother, her entire clan, from cruel deaths at the hands of the immortals? Why, after all she’d sacrificed, after giving up her life to become a hunter, did she have to fail at her mission’s most crucial moment?

Tears fell from her eyes as she shut them tight, refusing her last glimpse of life to be the eerily perfect face of the undead.

His teeth scraped against her skin. A final torture before he drained the life out of her.

Arturia braced herself for the bite, her head screaming apologies to every person she was letting down. Igraine, her late father, her cousins, Arthur.

But it never came.

“You have done well, my queen,” whispered the old creature, his cold lips brushing against her neck. Arturia gasped for air, hacking and coughing beneath him, a million questions running through her mind. He quieted them all with his thumb on her bottom lip, freezing Arturia where she lay.

“I have endured several of your lifetimes. Each, more passionless than the last. I thought myself fortunate at first, able to experience every pleasure the world had to offer, but a thousand years can make even the sweetest fruit seem vile.”

A flicker of irritation crossed his sharp, eternal features, but it was quickly replaced by something Arturia had never seen before. The emotion swelled within his vibrant ruby irises, which glowed even through a night as dark as this one.

“Eventually, I saw this ‘gift’ for what it truly was: a curse, bestowed upon me by that loathsome snake an eternity ago,” he voiced cryptically, knowing this beautiful little girl would likely never grasp just how long he’d walked this earth.

The Pendragon stared up at him with those fiery irises he’d been fond of since the first time he beheld them.

It was exactly twenty years since the day she first came here. Fifteen years old, a mere child, yet one that possessed the gall to challenge him to a duel. He spared her that day, and she went on to challenge every single creature in the continent that had been turned, coming back every now and then for another shot at his head.

Arturia wasn’t anything like those that shared her last name. Her clan was stiff. Traditional. She took their knowledge, but did not stop there, taking various forms of study to hone her craft. She'd been to Ireland to study their methods. To France to understand alchemy. Three years ago, she nearly killed him with near-invisible wire she acquired from the east. Before that, it was a sword of fire. Today, apparently, she’d gotten dexterous enough dual wielding either guns or knives, when she hadn’t that skill prior.

Ever since they met, his days were full of excitement, anticipation for the day she’d return. Suddenly, he was always on his toes, rising at the first sign of night to prepare for her next arrival. His hunts were no longer mechanical, for he knew now that he and she were bound to cross paths. Where would she see him next? On a hike into the mountains? In summer, when the days were long? Maybe even at the local ball? There were so many possibilities!

About a decade into their arrangement, Gilgamesh realized he was feeling something he hadn’t felt in eons.

He felt alive.

But like most living things, he knew Arturia had a limit. And before she reached it, before his fun could be taken away once more, he knew he had to do this. What better time than now, when he had the opportunity to caress her cheek for the first time?

“However, despite how I’ve loathed my own longevity, I never want our duels to end,” he admitted, memorizing her face, counting her freckles, brushing his thumb against lips he didn’t dare kiss for fear of imparting his curse.

“You, wicked woman, have made this soulless being crave a soul, if only to meet you once more beyond the grave.”

Minutes passed in silence as Arturia registered his confession. The night did not conceal her expressions from him. Not the fear, the anger, the confusion. He witnessed the exact moment of her realization, felt her heartbeat quicken, saw the heat rise to her cheeks. At last, she understood why she lay under him and had not yet fallen victim to his fangs.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked calmly, her voice strained, but clear. “Why now?”

“I have desired to do so for half a decade, I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you...and I cannot die without you knowing that you are treasured beyond belief.”

Slowly, he reached for her ankle, where he knew she’d hidden her last knife. It burned his flesh as he grasped the hilt, rejecting the impurity of his being, but he persisted anyway, rejoicing in the sensation. This would be one of the final times he’d experience it.

“Wh...what are you doing?” she asked as he pulled her up to face him, placing the dagger in her grip and clasping his hands around hers. Even presented with the opportunity, it was no longer killing intent that resided within her eyes, only conflict.

“Without an end to one’s existence, love, the delights of what you call ‘life’ have no meaning,” he explained, moving her arms so that the blade’s tip rested just above his heart. “Therefore, Arturia Pendragon, I ask that your worthy hands grant me mine.”

He’d expected his death to be immediate, to happen as soon as he loosened his hold. Gilgamesh knew better than anybody what Arturia had at stake and who she was protecting. Hell, he was excited just contemplating what kind of life she’d lead, now that she’d been liberated of her family’s burden.

But now, when her goal was right in front of her, she hesitated.

For what seemed like a better eternity, Gilgamesh watched her stare into his exhausted red eyes, like she was engraving their intimidating splendor into her memory.

“Thank you.”

His death couldn’t have been sweeter.

[sincerelystranger]

Author: LXC thirsting after NMJ while they’re students together. Inspired by the fact that one of the Gusu rules is that you’re only allowed to eat 3 bowls of rice per meal? I just felt like NMJ is a very big boy and he’d probably need a little more than that.

---

Nie Mingjue is tall, and broad, and handsome. He’s strong enough to wield his huge saber in one hand, he eats all three allotted bowls of rice at every meal, and Lan Xichen can’t stop noticing him.

Nie-gongzi is the only non-Lan Sect student this year at Cloud Recesses, and he – he’s perfect. He never dozes off, he always listens intently, and the only thing he seems to have any interest in other than eating, is practicing his saber. Uncle is in love with him and Lan Xichen just can’t stop noticing him.

“Lan-gongzi!” Nie-gongzi calls, stopping Lan Xichen as he’s walking towards the dining hall. Nie-gongzi has his saber in his hand, and strands of hair are sticking to his sweat-damp forehead, and he’s backlit by the setting sun, and he looks… magnificent. Something about it makes Lan Xichen’s palms tingle. “Are you headed to the dining hall?” Nie-gongzi asks, putting his saber away.

“Yes,” Lan Xichen nods, trying not to stare too intently at the bead of sweat that’s making its way down Nie-gongzi’s neck.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Nie-gongzi asks seriously. He’s always serious – always. It scares a lot of the other students, but Lan Xichen can’t help but find it kind of… charming.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Lan Xichen smiles.

They walk together to the dining hall, Lan Xichen trying valiantly not to be too aware of their closeness – of the heat that Nie-gongzi is radiating. They’re just two students walking to the dining hall, he tells himself. Two normal students. Yep.

“Are you enjoying your studies at Cloud Recesses?” Lan Xichen asks, attempting normal, polite conversation.

“Yes,” Nie-gongzi nods, “Everything is a little more… flowery than I am used to, but my father speaks very highly of your uncle and his teaching abilities, so I’m trying to learn the best I can.”

“I see,” Lan Xichen smiles, “My uncle speaks very highly of you as well. I’m sure your father will receive a good report from him.”  

“Good reports on everything except my calligraphy, I assume,” Nie-gongzi replies, “But I’ve never had a talent for the arts, so I’m sure that will be no surprise to my father.”

Lan Xichen wants to tell him that the way he wields his saber is so beautiful that it takes Lan Xichen’s breath away. Wants to tell him that he’s never seen anything more artistic than the way Nie-gongzi walks – his back straight, his strides long and purposeful. Wants to tell him that his heart stops every time Nie-gongzi walks towards him.

But that sound a bit… much… even in his own head. So instead, he says, “I’ve seen your calligraphy, I’m sure your marks will be adequate.”

Nie-gongzi laughs at that, throwing his head back in mirth.

His neck is thick and corded, his brows stay furrowed even in laughter, and Lan Xichen can’t take his eyes off of him.

“Adequate, you say, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi chuckles, “I may not have an eye for the arts, but even I know that your calligraphy is perfect. My own chicken scratch must be far from adequate in the eyes of the grandmaster who is used to reading your perfect writing.”

Lan Xichen can feel his ears redden at Nie-gongzi’s words. “You’re too complimentary of my skills, Nie-gongzi,” he says, his face tilted towards the ground.

A heavy hand pats him on his shoulder, shocking him out of his embarrassment. “I’m not one for false modesty or empty praise, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi says, and there’s something warm in his voice, “but thank you for your words of consolation.” He takes his hand off of Lan Xichen’s shoulder, and his shoulder burns where Nie-gongzi’s hand had been.

Lan Xichen feels a bit chided then – a bit chided and a little bit found out.

They enter the dining hall together and take their seats. Lan Xichen sits next to Nie-gongzi and watches him clean his table… again… and again. Nie-gongzi finishes all three allotted bowls before Lan Xichen can finish his one.

Watching Nie-gongzi eat tickles something in Lan Xichen’s brain. It makes him wonder if even three bowls are enough. Nie-gongzi is… large, and he practices his saber so often. He must be… hungry.

He quickly finishes his food and walks quickly to catch up to Nie-gongzi. “Nie-gongzi,” he says, definitely not out of breath because he definitely did not run.

Nie-gongzi turns towards him, and suddenly Lan Xichen feels embarrassed to even ask.

“Yes, Lan-gongzi?” Nie-gongzi asks after a beat of silence.

“Oh,” Lan Xichen coughs, “I was… just wondering if you found the food in Cloud Recesses acceptable.”

Nie-gongzi’s brows furrow even deeper at Lan Xichen’s question. “I’m not a picky eater,” he says slowly, “but it is a wonder how the Gusu Lan Sect produces so many great cultivators on such little food.”

Aha, Lan Xichen thinks to himself. He knew it! Even three bowls was too little for Nie-gongzi.

“After indoctrination is over, you should come to Qinghe,” Nie-gongzi continues, “I’ll feed you more meat than you’ve ever eaten in your life – none of this rabbit food.”

Lan Xichen feels a zing of pleasure go through him at Nie-gongzi’s invitation. “I hear Qinghe is famous for their boar dishes,” he says quietly, trying not to sound too pleased.

“Yes, our boar is quite good,” Nie-gongzi says, almost whistfully, “I caught the largest boar last season. If you come visit us, I promise you I’ll catch an even larger one.”

There is no pride in his voice, Lan Xichen realizes. Nie-gongzi isn’t bragging, isn’t giving out a false promise. He will catch the largest boar for Lan Xichen – it’s a fact. It hits Lan Xichen like an arrow to the heart. It makes his palms tingle hot and cold. He wants to touch. He feels greedy all of a sudden, desire like he’s never felt pooling in the bottom of his stomach.

“I will look forward to it,” Lan Xichen says with a calm he doesn’t feel. Look at me, he thinks desperately, wanting those serious eyes on him for some reason. Look at me. Look at me.

Nie-gongzi looks down at him and Lan Xichen’s breath stops in his throat.

“Good,” Nie-gongzi says easily, ignorant of the effect he’s having on Lan Xichen. “Now, if you do not have any other questions for me, I will take my leave first. I want to get in a little more practice before bed.”

“Of course,” Lan Xichen breathes out, bowing.

He watches Nie-gongzi leave towards the practice field. Watches the swing of his hair, the broadness of his shoulders, the length of his steps.

He feels unmoored.

He’s never felt like this before.

He stands there stupidly for a little while longer, staring towards where Nie-gongzi disappeared off to. The sun is already set. He should really go back to his room and meditate a little while before washing up and going to bed. Maybe even visit Wangji. Maybe practice his calligraphy a little more so it stays perfect in the eyes of Nie-gongzi.

That’s what he should do…

But before he knows it, he’s in Caiyi buying a dozen meat buns.

He holds them close to his chest as he runs back up to Cloud Recesses. It’s quite difficult, trying to keep an even stride so the buns aren’t damaged and also trying to run fast enough so that he can get back into Cloud Recesses in time.

He catches Nie-gongzi as he’s walking out of the practice field.

“Nie-gongzi!” he calls out – his voice definitely too loud. He’d be in trouble if uncle heard.

Nie-gongzi almost seems startled to see him. “Lan-gongzi,” he bows, “did you forget something?”

Lan Xichen basically throws the parcel of meat buns at Nie-gongzi. “No,” he says, shaking his head. Embarrassment threatens to devour him whole. “For you… Meat buns…” he says intelligently.

Nie-gongzi looks down at the parcel in his hands and opens it. He looks back at Lan Xichen in surprise. “You got these for me?” he asks, his brows rising from their furrow just a tiny bit. He looks so endearing then that Lan Xichen’s heart threatens to burst.

“Yes,” he nods, willing his cheeks not to burn. “I will speak to uncle about allowing you increased portions at meal times – I know you must have been hungry all this while.” He bows then and turns to leave, embarrassment making him unable to meet Nie-gongzi’s eyes.

A heavy hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

Lan Xichen turns in surprise. Nie-gongzi takes his hand and drags him away. Lan Xichen is too shocked by Nie-gongzi holding his hand in his that he doesn’t realize where he’s been dragged off to until he’s already sat next to Nie-gongzi in a dark corner next to the equipment shack.

“Here,” Nie-gongzi says, handing Lan Xichen a meat bun. Nie-gongzi takes one out for himself and stuffs half of it in one go. Lan Xichen watches him chew, mesmerized by the way the oil in the bun makes Nie-gongzi’s lips shine, and takes a careful bite of the meat bun in his hand. It’s still warm – thank god – and it’s good. He hopes Nie-gongzi thinks it’s good as well.

“Is it to your liking, Nie-gongzi?” he asks, trying not to stare too blatantly.

“Hmn,” Nie-gongzi nods, grabbing another meat bun from the parcel. “Feels like it’s been forever since I last had some meat. Thank you for this, Lan-gongzi.”

“No need for thanks,” Lan Xichen says, watching how the meat buns disappear in Nie-gongzi’s mouth like magic. Nie-gongzi looks the happiest he’s ever seen him. All that running and embarrassment was worth it to see this face.

Nie-gongzi gives Lan Xichen a wry smile. “Was my hunger obvious?” he asks.

“No, not at all,” Lan Xichen answers, “It’s just… you eat all three bowls of rice at every meal… and well, you’re the largest disciple at Cloud Recesses… I just… assumed.”

Nie-gongzi laughs at that. Throws his head back again, let’s Lan Xichen see that long neck stretch. Mortifyingly, Lan Xichen wants to know what Nie-gongzi’s neck tastes like. Wants to lick a line from his collar bone to his jaw.

“You assumed correct,” Nie-gongzi says, smiling at him. Lan Xichen’s heart is beating faster than it was after the run up to Cloud Recesses. Nie-gongzi reaches out and pats Lan Xichen on the head. “You’re very observant, Lan-gongzi. Very observant and very kind.”

Don’t pat my head, Lan Xichen wants to tell him. Don’t treat me like a little brother. I didn’t do this to be kind.

“When you come to Qinghe, you’ll meet my little brother. He’s observant too, and kind,” Nie-gongzi says, taking out another meat bun. Nie-gongzi will probably finish the other eleven meat buns before Lan Xichen finishes his one.

“How old is your little brother?” Lan Xichen asks. Actually, he doesn’t want to be compared to Nie-gongzi’s little brother. Everyone else always says that Lan Xichen seems so grown up – why is Nie-gongzi treating him like he’s a child?

“He’s 6,” Nie-gongzi answers, polishing off another meat bun.

“My little brother is 7,” Lan Xichen says. This is probably the longest conversation he’s ever had with Nie-gongzi. He finds that he likes the sound of his voice. Likes the way his mouth moves as he speaks. He doesn’t like being compared to a 6-year-old, but he’ll take whatever he can if he can listen to Nie-gongzi speak a little longer. “Your little brother might already be bigger than Wangji, though, if he is like you.”

“No, no,” Nie-gongzi says, shaking his head, “Huisang is very different from me. He’ll probably be smaller than even my father. But I’m sure his calligraphy will be better than mine.” There’s something fond about the way Nie-gongzi speaks about his brother. Lan Xichen can tell that he loves his little brother very much. He can understand that, he thinks, thinking of Wangji.

There was something undeniably cute about little brothers.

Does Nie-gongzi think Lan Xichen is cute, he wonders?

Nie-gongzi finishes the rest of the meat buns and waits for Lan Xichen to finish his. It is torture to try to eat normally with Nie-gongzi’s eyes on him. Suddenly the act of chewing even seems unnatural. Lan Xichen is hyper aware of his every movement. Of his proximity to Nie-gongzi.

“You won’t get in trouble for this, will you?” Nie-gongzi asks worriedly, smashing the empty parcel easily between his hands.

“No,” Lan Xichen lies (how many rules has he broken so far?). “But if it’s alright with you, could I walk you back to your quarters, Nie-gongzi?” He doesn’t want any of the disciples on watch to give Nie-gongzi any trouble. They’ll most likely, steer clear if they see Lan Xichen with him.

Nie-gongzi’s brows furrow as if they find Lan Xichen’s request strange, but he nods, “that’s fine with me.”

They walk together, Lan Xichen trying not to be too aware of the heat that radiates off of Nie-gongzi. He bows his goodbye when they reach Nie-gongzi’s quarters.

Nie-gongzi bows back and pats Lan Xichen on the shoulder as he straightens. “Thank you again for your care, Lan-gongzi,” Nie-gongzi says, gifting Lan Xichen with another small smile.

“It’s my pleasure,” Lan Xichen says honestly – probably too honestly.

Lan Xichen almost skips back to his room. His uncle will be upset with him, he’s sure. He’s missed bedtime by at least half an hour now, but he can’t find it in himself to regret anything. He’d run to Caiyi every night if he could have this secret meeting with Nie-gongzi.

10 years later, when he watches Wangji break the rules for the first time – fighting with other disciples, purchasing liquor, missing bedtime – he’s reminded of himself from 10 years ago. Wanting and confused and unable to help himself. The anger is new, though. Wangji is angry for some reason...

He hopes Wei-gongzi will treat Wangji as kindly as da-gei treated Lan Xichen.

10 years later, Nie-gongzi is now da-ge, but he’s still tall, and broad, and handsome, and Lan Xichen still can’t stop noticing him.

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

The Crows and their love languages

I Don’t know if this has already been done, but this is my interpretation of the love languages of the Crows, feel free to disagree but this is what I felt best fit the characters based on what I’ve read/seen.

Nina

Without a question as both a giver and a receiver, Nina’s love language is physical contact. Though she is seen displaying every other love language, it is through touch that Nina appears to benefit the most. She is offended and subsequently worried about her relationship with Matthias when he avoids touching her and still hadn’t kissed her. Through Inej’s POV, we see a lot of hugs and touches given by Nina. She even uses touch as a heartrender. For her job at the White Rose she is required to touch people to improve their mood and change their appearance. But to focus on the first one, she literally uses touch to make people happy. It makes the most sense to associate Nina with physical contact, which also might be the reason that she and Kaz don’t get along.

Matthias

I found Matthias to actually be the hardest to figure out, he doesn’t really display any specific patterns when it comes to displaying affection. I would say that it is physical contact but he seems to avoid a lot of physical contact with Nina to stay in accordance with the Fjerdan tradition. I guess the love language I see the most with Matthias as both a giver and receiver is acts of service. When he recalls his mother, he remembers aiding her when she was pregnant, he offers on several occasions to do things for Nina, he considers Jarl Brum, a man he was in service as a soldier to, as a father figure. As a receiver, his reaction to Inej’s sacrifice on the first boat indicates that he values acts of service. Additionally, he begins to like Nina (in flashbacks) after she had helped save his life and worked to keep him alive. There are other examples of acts of service being his love language, but I think this suffices.

Wylan

 100% he is in need of some words of affirmation. Though we don’t really see his interactions with the other crows as much since he doesn’t have his own perspective in SOC, in Crooked Kingdom and in the times we see Wylan in Six of Crows, his usage of words of affirmation is evident. As a receiver, he is seen to want approval desperately from his father, to take offense easily at teasing from the other crows, he seems to tie a lot to words. As a giver, his preference for words of affirmation is even more abundant in example. He is always seen giving pep talks to Jesper and is mystified when Kaz refuses to admit the importance of Inej, he becomes angry at the lack of acknowledgement of her merit, of her significance to Kaz. Wylan appears to gather strength from words of affirmation, in fact, after he shares his inability to read with Kaz, it is Kaz’s response that gives him the strength to share with others and even embrace his disability. As a child who so rarely got words of encouragement and affirmation, it makes sense that he places such importance on this particular love language.

Jesper 

Jesper is an interesting case, he, like Nina, likes to utilize all of the love languages. However there are two that he really hones in on. As a giver he is seen to use physical touch and occasionally words of affirmation, as a receiver he requires words of affirmation. Focusing on Jesper as a receiver, the beginning of SOC establishes words of affirmation as his primary love language. He is hurt when Kaz doesn’t acknowledge his trust in Jesper and is seen multiple times throughout the book with hurt feelings when he is excluded from the secrets Kaz shares with Inej, he wants the affirmation of his close relationship with Kaz through the sharing of secrets. As a giver, Jesper uses two different languages. In regards to physical contact, he is shown using this love language a lot with others, there are a plethora of examples within both books, it is shown that he relies on this mode a lot. However, he also employs words of affirmation, the best example of which I can think of is when he lies to Inej about Kaz visiting her to spare her feelings. Though the effort didn’t work, Jesper’s nature is exposed here for being one of comforting words regardless of their accuracy. The other example I think of is from the beginning of Six of Crows, where Kaz remarks that Jesper would pacify the dregs and make Kaz’s victory belong to them all and would boost them up. He is evidently known for his use in this love language, and therefore is still relatively evenly between the two methods of affection.

Inej

Inej uses two different love languages, one as a giver and one as a receiver. As a giver, Inej employs words of affirmation. This can be seen through her various pep-talks given out to the other crows, in her kind words to her hurting friends, and in her exchanges with Kaz. She is good at encouragement and her words are shown to have an impact, specifically seen with exchanges she has with Jesper and Kaz (they both think about and mull over her words in their inner monologues). It is through words she connects with others, however she has relationships and important connections that more often than not do not supply her with words of affirmation back. This leads into her receiver love language, this being quality time. This is not the most intuitive love language for Inej, but through analyzing her character it is plain to see that it is this love language that she responds to the most. The way that Inej recalls her family and her father is through her fond memories of them, is through the good times she spent with them. She does not simply remember her family through traits or through objects or even through words but through scenes, and through the memories that contain the words she remembers. Additionally, when injured on the Ferolind, she requests that Nina stay and spend time with her, she values her presence. With Kaz this love language is a little harder to scope out, after all their relationship also contains acts of service, gift giving, and little bursts of words of affirmation, but Inej seems to appreciate and respond the most to the quality time she spends with Kaz. She is hurt when she learns that he didn’t visit while she was unconscious, there are countless examples of wordless communication as they spend time together, Kaz even points out that he “is here” with Inej, he is present and there to help her, something that she subsequently responds to. In a way, Inej’s relationship with Kaz is unique from her other relationship in that it requires every love language (even physical contact) but quality time is in many ways a significant one.

Kaz

Now that I’ve gone on a tangent for Inej, we finally reach our most complex character when it comes to love languages (I’m sorry please prepare for another tangent). To be clear, Kaz’s love languages are not difficult to decipher from the vantage point of a reader but the way he expresses himself to other characters is in a complex manner that was formed from his upbringing and past trauma. As a giver it is plain and obvious that Kaz is a gift giver, he is constantly seen practicing this love language. He gifts Jesper his guns back after he loses them in Crooked Kingdom, He gifts Wylan his family fortune back. He even yearns to gift his dead brother his avengeance in the form of taking down Pekka Rollins. Of course, this love language can be viewed the most in his interactions with Inej. He notoriously gifts her a ship “The Wraith”, he gifts her her parents, he even gifts her freedom by buying her contract from Per Haskell, each gift allowing her the future she so desires. Although these gifts pain him, although he wants her to stay with him, he still gives and provides her with these tools, because he loves her, because he wants to express to her how much she means to him. Kaz is not a character who outwardly expresses his feelings very often, but through his gift giving it is shown that he does appreciate those around him, that he does care about others. As a receiver however, Kaz appears to appreciate the love language of Acts of Service the most. Though this analysis is about the books I did want to touch upon a scene in the TV show. The scene in question is when Inej kills the inferni. Inej commits her first kill in order to help Kaz and the look he gives her pretty much sums up his feelings on the matter.

 In the books he says in his narration how him making Jesper his only second, shows that he trusts him. He gradually warms up to both Matthias and Wylan as they progress in the mission and continue to aid him. He trusts Nina enough to be a part of the six going to the Ice Court, after using her services as a heart render multiple times. Now, it is possible that he only brought her along because of her powers and her connections to Matthias, but knowing Kaz he could make do without a heartrender and her addition only made things more complicated with Matthias at the beginning. Kaz agrees to free Inej after her words “I can help you”, he responds to that, it is with those words, with that offer to assist that their relationship begins. Inej is portrayed doing acts of service for Kaz nearly every night since her buyout, and Kaz has responded in kind making her his right hand woman. In summation, the way to earn Kaz’s respect, trust, and admiration is through acts of service.

[rosethornewrites]

Tuesday’s NR, E, and M fics

As per usual, The Untamed/MDZS.

Finished:

Not Rated:

On Spoiled Husbands, by sleepydragon03

Evenings like this, with the snow deadening the sounds of the world outside the jingshi, were Lan Wangji's favorite.

NHS picks NMJ's clothing, by nirejseki

Prompt: NMJ letting NHS pick his clothes

Close to Me, by voxnoxsox (second in a series)

Wei Ying wanted to get on with the domestic bliss already, but Lan Zhan wasn’t letting him.

Femme!WWW creeped on by JFM, by @mondengel

Via @angstymdzsthoughts : Fem!WWX au, where JFM gets her engaged to JC as an excuse to attach her to LP while she comes of age. YZY is desperate to get her out of LP not because she hates her, but because she sees the way that her husband looks at the 15yo WWX with lust, who would’ve thought that her husband was like that pig JGS? When WWX goes to gusu and starts liking LWJ, she grabs the chance to marry her before the lectures even finish, and if JFM dies some time after the wedding nobody will suspect it was his wife.

Vehicular Attempted Homicide, by Jin_Lings_Guncle (second in a series)

Jiang Cheng graciously agrees to run an errand for his beloved sister before a family dinner. Unfortunately, he isn't able to take his own car for the trip.

Rated E:

The best joker, by wangxiandoux

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. I gave you a small one. Look."

Redo: Bathtub scene, by Rinrinreira

What if Wei Ying had respected Lan Zhan's boundaries and stopped when Lan Zhan told him to?

In someone like you, by Moonshine_Milkshake

He’s abandoned whatever reservations he had left about taking it slowly, mind clouded with desire. He’s done. Needs it.

“Please,” he whispers in between kisses, breath heavy, “I want you, Lan Zhan, please…”

Rated M:

For Us Both, by MSteele

One night too deep in his cups Wei Wuxian gets the brilliant idea to write Lan Wangji and expose the feelings he has been nursing in secret.

Unfinished:

Not Rated:

Sins of the Father, by eloquencejones

Family. Legacy. Reputation.

Lan Sizhui makes a decision about what it all means to him, and he can think of a dozen people who aren't going to like it, but he's an adult now and he needs to forge his own path.

But when you're using the past to build the future, what do you do when the past catches up with you?

In Which Soup is NOT the Solution, by such_stuff_as_dreams_are_made_on

Jin Zixuan reacts differently when it is revealed Jiang Yanli was making him soup. Somehow this leads to him bonding with Wei Wuxian.

My heart just burst like a glass balloon (They let me fly too high and I shattered too soon), by M0onb0w

Death was not what he wanted.

He wanted someone to love and care for him.

It wasn’t his life he wanted to end.

He wanted to end the pain.

seeds in his heart (roots tearing the love in him apart), by genttlebreeze

Wei Wuxian survives the First Siege.

Thirteen years later, Wei Sizhui leaves the Burial Mounds.

To keep you safe, by Heathers03

Wei Wuxian takes the fall for a crime his brother may or may not have committed, ending his relationships with everyone he loved. Now after serving eight years in a maximum-security prison, Wei Ying has to learn how to live with the trauma of those years spent secluded from the outside world without his past catching up with him

Rated M:

the first thousand days, by ilgaksu

There is snow in the Cloud Recesses. Lan Xichen catches sight of Wangji reaching out of the window: just his hand out, straining after the cold on his skin.

In The End, by confused_insomniac (cw: implied in the summary)

The man placed the bouquet on the grave and stood up. He wiped his tears and looked at the grave one last time, "I will see you soon, Wei Ying."

OR

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji lived a happy life until that one incident.

A fluffier version of this book will be published later on.

[dex-xe]

If you are still taking Ghosts fic prompts, could I please request Pat/Julian angst #37? Thank you!

Pat & Julian Angst #37: “Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

(Ngl I would never have thought about putting Pat and Julian together for this but I actually really love how it turned out!! That’s why I love this game,, makes me think outside the box. Thank you so much for this one!!)

Prompt list

Inbox

She had cheated on him. Cheated on him and he hadn’t even noticed. Of all the emotions coursing through Pat’s ghostly form, frustration was the primary motivator for his tears. How had he never noticed? In life, he had been so caught up in creating wonderful experiences for his scouts, so caught up he hadn’t spotted what was happening right under his nose. Now that he looked back he could see the glances Carol and his best friend shared, how they took care of Daley while Pat was at scout camp, the way he always seemed to be the third wheel, despite being the connecting factor between the two.

Pat rested his forehead against the piercing cold window pane, he couldn’t feel the soothing cool he so desperately desired but the attempt was there. Any death day at Button House led to a quiet and subdued atmosphere as the ghosts were all reminded of the very real, very human lives they once lived. But today had been different, marred not only by the mourning of Pat’s passing but also the shock that Pat’s sweet family life hadn’t been the perfect picture of domestic bliss he had always portrayed.

The others had tried to comfort him - they’d tried to reach out and break the tense atmosphere of the house - but no one had managed to get through to him. As soon as the other ghosts had discovered the truth as to why Pat was in a melancholy trance at the library window, individual plans were made to reach him.

Kitty had come running. She’d been the first to find him crying, curled up with his knees pulled to his chest sobbing quietly into the stormy night. She’d barrelled into the room and engulfed Pat into the biggest hug.

“She didn’t deserve you, Pat,” Kitty had cried. Tears were rolling down her face before she even made it to Pat, she just loved love and couldn’t cope with the break down of her friends marriage - even after death. “You are so wonderful, Pat. You deserved better.”

“I appreciate it, Kitty, I do. But we’re dead, my life was spent on someone who didn’t love me.” Pat yanked his glasses off violently and scrubbed at his eyes, blurring his vision of Kitty sat beside him. She’d stayed for ages with her arms around him, whispering reassurances quietly into his ear but the Kitty’s suffocating grip and even more smothering emotion couldn’t snap Pat from his miserable daze, if anything floundering in his own misery was making the situation worse.

Kitty had disappeared once she’d finally cottoned on to Pat’s yearning to be alone and Pat had been able to return his head to his knees and resume his sorrowful tears. A quiet cough broke the silence. The Captain had towered over him trying to catch his attention.

“Stand to, Patrick,” the Captain had said. “Can’t have you moping for the evening when there are troops to wrangle!”

“I’ve had a rough day, mate. Let me have a few hours,” Pat had told him, sniffling softly.

“It’ll do you no good - wallowing.” The Captain coughed and straightened up. “Your life was the way it was, nothing can be changed now so bury it deep and let’s go to Food Club.”

“With all the love in the world, Cap, the repression tactic isn’t exactly working out for you, so forgive me for not participating.”

Humphrey had also thrown his hat into the ring: “This doesn’t negate the life you lived, Pat. You gave her the most amount of love you could and that’s what matters the most.” But Pat hadn’t wanted a therapy session.

Thomas hadn’t opted for discussion but had instead perched beside Pat composing harrowing poetry around his doomed relationship, which certainly wasn’t helping the mood of the house.

But once they’d run out of ideas, the ghosts had left him alone in the cold library surrounded by nothing but shelves upon shelves of classic love stories and romance novels, mocking him with their happy endings. He curled close into the window and watched the droplets of pelting rain race their way down the glass, tracing them slowly with his ghostly fingers wishing his heart were still beating so he could leave tracks in the steamed window.

“I cheated on my wife,” a voice said from the darkness. Pat startled and jerked up to see Julian had faded through the heavy wooden door and was stood awkwardly in the shadows.

“Cheers, mate,” Pat said. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Julian threw himself down on the sofa opposite Pat, rearranging his shirt tails before lounging back to face the still crying Pat.

“I cheated. A lot. You know, I got up to all kinds of shenanigans: Norwegian noodle parties, lot of them. And raucous nights with-,” Julian gazed off in to the distance as he reminisced.

“Can I stop you there, Julian? Because if I had any lunch, I’d be worried about keeping it down,” Pat said. “Your forgetting I was here, I saw what you got up to.”

“Oh I did worse than you ever saw, don’t doubt that.” Pat shrugged: he didn’t doubt that at all. “I got up to all this fun and Margot was just sat at home. She took care of Rachel; she was a great mother, I imagine. Sure, she wasn’t quite as clueless as you but she suffered what you did.”

“This really isn’t making me any better, Julian,” Pat said, adjusting his glasses carefully. “I don’t want to hear your life story.”

“Well, what do you want? You’re dead! What does it matter? What does it matter if your life wasn’t the perfect artery-clogging Christmas film you always thought it was, you’re stuck here now. What do you want us all to say?” Julian shrugged.

“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again!” Pat’s voice got higher and higher, squeaking at Julian who simply rolled his eyes. The two men sat in the dark. Rain hammered hard against the windows but Button House remained quiet in a melancholy trance.

“What I’m trying to say is my wife did nothing wrong. I wasn’t unhappy with her, per say, she didn’t do anything to harm me, nothing to stop me loving her. Just life, it got in the way, you know? Some people are just like that and others get left hurt in their wake,” Julian admitted. “You’re the same as my wife, Pat. You did nothing wrong to Carol. You didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t make her happy either,” Pat said.

“Who cares?” Julian huffed. “Who cares about some woman who clearly didn’t value you the way you did her? You made your son happy, and those boys - the scouts. You make that lot downstairs happy, sometimes. They don’t know how to show it particularly well but you do.”

Pat sighed. “I thought seeing them, learning about my family’s lives, I thought it would make me feel better. I really believed I was moving on because I found out about what Carol did. Silly idea really!”

“Seems logical enough, but probably a good thing you weren’t sucked off.” Pat turned away from the window and shot a quizzical look at Julian. “If I don’t have someone to delegate my leadership to, I’d be forced to herd that bunch of berks - they’re worse than the electorate. I’d have better luck organising monkeys at the zoo to do the quickstep than getting any order out of them.”

“Your leadership?” Pat chuckled.

“I’m the only elected official in this house,” Julian straightened his tie and stood to leave. “But I don’t like to force my authority; delegation is an important tool for a powerful political player.”

“Of course,” Pat smirked to himself.

Julian marched across the room towards the closed door, only turning back at the last second.

“Anyway, buck up your ideas, Pat. You’re needed.” Pat furrowed his eyebrows and shot a confused look at Julian. “The Captain’s trying to keep Robin from throwing Humphrey onto the fire - you know how he gets around a flame. They’re making a bloody scene and could do with some of your childcare expertise.” Pat grinned and followed Julian out of the library - leaving his despondent stupor for the first time in hours.

He couldn’t go back and change what had happened during his life, he wasn’t even sure he knew what he would change if he could. He’d tried his absolute best t everything he did during his short life. He tried to be the best husband to Carol, the best father to Daley, the best mentor for his scouts - even if something had gone wrong, there was nothing more he could give. And if he couldn’t be the best in life anymore, Pat was certain he’d be the best in death - the best friend, the best father-figure, the best mentor for a gang of needy ghosts.

[lorei-writes]

IkeSen Masamune Analysis #5

I haven’t written one of those in a while. Who knows, maybe I’ll get inspired to put more posts like this together - although I’m not sure if “analysis” wasn’t too big of a word when I picked it. Oh well. It happened already, I presume? So let’s continue onward with that, even if it was a mistake.

1st part: the trauma & the grief

2nd part:  discovering the new meaning to love & getting in touch with himself

3rd part: the pathos of the dramatic route

4th part: future customs & how modern their relationship is (by future standards)

#5: Flaws

It oftentimes seems to me that flaws of character tend to be overlooked on behalf of the great qualities somebody has. After all, why focus on the ugly if beauty is one step away?

Well. My personal opinion is that by doing that, a character is stripped of its complexity and ultimately loses some of its appeal, the flaws being one of the major factors contributing to their overall believability. They make them relatable, are a point of struggle, bring realness into fantasy - so honestly, personally, I lean towards enjoying imperfections. 

As such, let’s look at some of Masamune’s flaws and perhaps wonder how some of them affect him. As always, it’s just my perspective on the matter. So please, if it makes you angry - take a step back. You don’t have to agree with me on that one. It’s okay.

Probably the most obvious one would be his lies - because for a honest and direct person, Masamune lies a lot, even though mostly to himself. He lies to people close to him, consequently keeping them at an arm distance, never allowing for anything possibly presenting his weakness spread to the world. He doesn’t allow himself to hurt - he must be strong. At all cost, every time and every where, and he must always push forward. That by itself, of course, is draining. Perhaps he doesn’t even consider those half-truths and white lies to be dishonest in any way? Does it influence him? It does. It was shown how scared he can be when the one person he has found courage to be vulnerable with could be taken away. It’s one of the factors driving his rather risky choices, it tires him out physically, makes it harder for him to form deeper emotional connections. Generally, I presume it would suffice to say that Masamune isn’t used to somebody taking care of him.

Similarly to the above, Masamune is merciless towards himself. I wouldn’t say he’s addicted to work, but he certainly values it more than himself and his own well-being. He works late hours, is always in the centere of the battle, is willing to accept new responsibilities despite the workload (for example: his route - taking over the impoverished territory and redistributing rice to feed people struck by hunger)... As mentioned in his eternal love route epilogue, Masamune always strove to be deserving of praise, under all conditions. However, is that humanely possible? No. People make errors - and that is okay. It doesn’t come easy for him to accept that. (For example: an event in which he and MC were tasked with finding out a culprit threatening lord Nobunaga - I believe Mitsuhide was also in the group, however, it was only our pair that visited the inn. Due to a mistake on his part, MC was almost stabbed. Almost, as Masamune stopped the knife in time. As it was shown later, he didn’t take it well, distancing himself from her and spending the night training; Does it happen outside events? Yes. It can show in many ways, but one of them would be the fact that he doesn’t like discussing his past self and his weakness from that time. He also hides tears, for very long even from the woman he fell in love with).

He’s not fluent in emotion and his entire route is lined with him discovering that the thing he feels is love (more on that in 2nd part of the analysis, linked above). He undergoes tremendous character development.

There’s also another facet to it - despite being technically a character that’s all  about this “fun”, he’s disciplining himself strictly. He’s always holding himself back, pushing away all the needs and desires that interfere with who he thinks he should be. And what can interfere with it? Anything that lasts. Because for all he knows, there may be no tomorrow. Masamune doesn’t allow himself any stability.

Now, those were more of character traits. However, there’s more to Masamune that could potentially be seen as “damaged”.

This may be debatable, however, I do think that one of the reasons behind his lifestyle (not that it’s the only reason and that he doesn’t enjoy it. Only that it’s a thing that could possibly magnify it) is... Well. He tells himself he is ready to die, but for a man that made his peace with death, he clings desperately to anything good about life.

Now, I don’t doubt his motivation. I believe that if a time came and it was necessary, he would sacrifice himself without a doubt. He would live his life as to be a perfect leader, no matter the cost. But since he doesn’t know when the time will come and since he doesn’t want to regret anything, he doesn’t allow himself to live slowly. It must be fast - it may be over before it fully began.

I don’t consider this by itself to be a flaw. I think a part of him enjoys it. However, I presume that this ongoing intensity combined with little close connections (remember, he’s still a lord to his vassals) can be draining at times, almost desperate.

I’ve already talked about the trauma related to killing his father. However, I think that another traumatic event overlooked in his case is the loss of his eye - and I do dare to say that it was really bad by itself as well.

And I don’t mean just pain. Well. I’m chronically ill and I don’t think I would lie much if I said that being forced to alter your routine is really hard at first. I don’t think that it would be a lie to state that losing a part of functionality of your body can be traumatic by itself as well.

So, he lost sight in his eye first. As such, he was seen as a nuisance by his family - he was hated and this hatred was internalized. For a child to wish they were never born...? It hurts. It hurts a lot, much more when it’s the people, who should protect you, who hurt you like so. He was “defective”.

Now. He decided to take it out. To just get rid of it, to cut it out of himself, to let it be part of the past. He didn’t need to, but he did. Possibly because this eye was a part of his weakness and that he couldn’t have. And this time, it must have hurt again, this time physically.

And by the end of it? He was left with a scar on his face, another reminder of his own perceived imperfection, reminder of a flaw. The all-so-confident Masamune doesn’t generally show it to people - when they fall into the lake and he needs to take off his eyepatch, he tells MC it’s okay to look away. She doesn’t even have a chance to think about it, and he already tells her it’s not a pretty sight. Despite all the temporary lovers he had, there was never any other person before MC who he allowed to touch his scar.

Now, why to even mention all of that? Aren’t there enough positive qualities that I could talk about instead?

But even that all aside - isn’t all in the past? I don’t think so. In moments where he gets pulled away from the reality, Masamune still reaches for his missing eye and instinctively covers it with his hand.

____________________

Well, sure. Let me put it like so:

With this everything, he could have easily caved in. He could turn to pure egoism, he could fund his own whims and be a medicore ruler. He could be selfish.

But, at the end of the day, he chose for his goal to be to allow people to have a future in which they don’t have to go hungry. Where they don’t have to struggle to have this basic need met, as it wasn’t so obvious then.

Because he cares about others so much.

I don’t think this really shines through with his flaws being ignored. And sure, plenty of that stuff needs to be worked through. But... It is only that despite this struggle, he still retained his heart - and as we’ve been informed in his eternal route epilgoue, he was a really sensitive and empathetic child.

As per request, a tag for @tsubaki3192

[chocoluckchipz]

Will You Help Me, Marinette?

                                  Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

Halfway into her walk to work, Marinette’s phone chimed. An amused smile tugged at her lips. A new record. Usually, he’d text her first thing upon waking up. Had been for years. She was already starting to suspect something had happened.

Adrien: Help!

She rolled her eyes. If it were anyone else, she’d panic. But it was Adrien, an overgrown man-child to whose overly dramatic, exaggerated ways she was used to by now.

Marinette: I’m bringing you croissants. Don’t worry.

Adrien: U rock!

Adrien: But that’s not it. Can I ask you for a favour?

She stopped at the lights, looking around for cars and quickly ran across the street.

Marinette: Coffee? I’m about to walk by our café.

Adrien: Thanks, but not today. My photoshoot relocated at the last moment, so I won’t be in until much later in the day.  

Adrien: I’ll still meet you at our cafe for lunch. Don’t order without me.

Marinette: :thumbs-up:

One end of her scarf got loose and seeing as Adrien was still typing, Marinette stole a moment to fix it, swaddling her neck away from the crispiness of cool air on the early April morning.

Adrien: Marinette, you’re my best friend and the luckiest girl I know, and you’re super smart and creative, so if anyone, you’d know what to do, and I really can use help now in something super important.

Adrien::puppy eyes: Please?

She didn’t bother suppressing a giggle, attracting a few glances from a morning crowd around her. Turning the corner, Marinette inhaled a warm aroma of fresh baked goods from a nearby café. She grew up and still lived in a bakery. She should've been used to this kind of thing. Yet this one was special. It was close to Gabriel’s office, and Adrien and she loved to frequent it during their lunches.  

One of the servers waved at her, wishing her a good day. Marinette waved back, asking how their new kitten was adjusting. A brief exchange later, she walked on, a buzzing device in her hand reminding her of an unintentionally abandoned friend.

Adrien: T_T

Adrien: Are you ignoring me?

Adrien: Five minutes had passed. No answer. :sobbing:

Adrien: I thought we were friends? Friends help each other.  

Adrien: …

Adrien: You do still like me, right?

She couldn’t hold back a chuckle. Such a drama queen and an incorrigible dork. Though, no one would ever believe her if she’d say that out loud that because in the public eye a supermodel, part-time CEO of a fashion empire Adrien Agreste was perfect in every sense of this word. Only his closest friends knew better.

Marinette: I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. I was distracted by Pierre. How can I help you?  

Adrien: :D You like me after all!

Marinette: I wouldn’t put up with your insufferable antics otherwise. Now, spill because I’m about to walk into the office and you’ll lose me five minutes after that.

Adrien: Okay.  

Adrien: So…

Adrien: I’ve decided…

Adrien: To confess to the love of my life.

Marinette froze in her path, her heart sinking. Tightening her grip on her cellphone, she stared at the screen in shock. Adrien was in love with someone? Why didn’t she know about that? They’ve been friends for years, so how did she miss that the love of her life was in love with someone else? Her quickening-its-pace heart ached as Adrien continued to type.

Adrien: I tried to confess to her on my own many times but chickened out every single one of them because I’m terrified of ruining what we already have if she doesn’t feel the same for it’s amazing and wonderful and absolutely beautiful, but I’m also at a point where I NEED more. It’s getting too hard to be just a friend.

Adrien: So, I’m risking it and I need you to help me. As my oldest and best-est friend ever you must help me. Please, say you’ll help me?

A knife Adrien didn’t know he’d stuck into her heart twisted, ripping through tender flesh. Marinette bit on her tongue and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply. She needed a moment before she could reply, so walking into Gabriel’s building, she proceeded to the elevator and didn’t check her phone until she was safely in her office, settled in her chair.

Adrien: Marinette?

Adrien: I hope I didn’t ask for too much. You’re the only one I can trust with this.

Adrien: If you’d rather not, though, it’s fine. I’ll figure this out somehow.

Adrien: Are you upset with me? I’m sorry. I didn’t think this would be a big deal.  

Adrien: … Please, say something.

Marinette read over the messages a few more times before dropping her head in her hands, propped on the table. This hurt. It ripped and crushed and devastated her, but as much as she’d love to run away and scream her pain out right now, Adrien was her friend first of all, and as his friend, she’d be supportive of him even if it hurt her.

Marinette: Sorry. I got distracted on my way. In my office now, so you have my full attention.

Adrien: T_T Don’t scare me like this. I already thought you hated me.

Marinette: Why would I hate you?  

Adrien: Idk. Just a thought. So, you’re in?

Marinette: Are you sure you want me involved? Love confessions are kind of personal.

Adrien: Mari, please. I’m twenty-three. I don’t want to die an old maiden because I’m too chicken to confess to the most amazing, gorgeous girl around.

Marinette stared at the phone. She was also twenty-three, and ten of those years, she’d spent loving Adrien. All in vain, it seemed now. And yet, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret a single moment because Adrien had been brightening her days ever since their mothers became friends at a random book club meeting all those years back. She couldn’t desert him now, even if she wanted to.

Swearing under her breath, she cursed her inability to say No to him once again and typed.

Marinette: Alright. Let’s start with the name of the lucky lady.

Adrien: Can’t tell you.

Marinette: Seriously?

Adrien: Yes.  

Marinette: How can I help you if I don’t know who she is?

Adrien: Keep me accountable. Bug me until I confess. Remind me every freaking minute that I can do it. Idk, threaten me or something. We’ve been friends for what? Almost fifteen years now? You know how I work and how to make me do things. That’s why I’m begging you and not Nino.

Marinette wished he’d asked Nino instead because helping Adrien confess to some girl was the least of Marinette’s desires.

Marinette: It’s going to be hard to suggest anything specific if I don’t know who she is, but fine. We’ll think of something. I get the front row seat at the wedding, though.

She wanted nothing less but Adrien couldn’t know that.

Adrien: Thank you! I’ll save you the best seat in the house… IF she accepts.

Marinette: Oh, please! You’ve got looks and money. Who would refuse you?

Adrien: See, that’s the issue: she knows me too well. She won’t be swayed by my looks or money. T_T Why do you think I’ve been stalling?  

Marinette: Your dorkiness is finally catching up with you?

Adrien: Meanie.

Marinette: :P I’m sure everything will be fine. Now, is there anything you can tell me about her?

Adrien: She works at Gabriel.

Marinette tried to swallow the knot in her throat. Of course. Adrien must be in love with one of the models. He worked amongst the most beautiful girls in France every day, and who was Marinette? A junior designer in his father’s company? Not ugly or a failure per se but she was nothing to be proud of also. Marinette was just a girl whom he’d known her for most of his life and whose every fault he’d witness more than she’d like to admit. Nothing new and exciting to catch his attention. She was an idiot to ever dare to dream of him.

Yet, gritting her teeth together and pushing the thought aside, Marinette typed a response because he was her friend and he needed her help.

Marinette: You can ask her out to lunch for starters? Take her to our cafe. I’m sure she’d love it there.

Adrien: …  

Adrien: But we always have our lunches together. I can’t betray you like that.  

Marinette: I’ll be fine. I have a few designs I need to finish today, so I’ll eat at the work cafeteria.

Adrien: They don’t have your favourite.  

Marinette: I can survive one lunch without an eclair. Or I can call Alya and meet up with her.

Adrien: Shoot. Gtg. Ttyl.

Marinette: Good luck.

Adrien: <3

Marinette put the phone away. dropping her head onto the table. They’ve been so close for years. How could she have missed that Adrien was in love with someone? Was she that blinded by her own feelings for him? If she wasn’t, maybe then she would’ve noticed and could’ve prepared herself and not feel this excruciating pain in her chest now.

Her phone chimed again. This time it was Alya, reminding her of their Friday night plans. Marinette briefly responded, not paying close attention to what she was saying, adding an invitation for lunch at the end. Not that she was eager to be in anybody’s company today, but it was better than sitting alone and obsessing over who Adrien’s lady-love was. She knew herself and right now she needed a distraction not to fall apart. So, pushing misery aside, Marinette pulled her work files and started on finalizing her sketches due by the end of the day.

Closer to noon, Adrien texted again. As he always did.

Adrien: Guess who’s all done and who’s so nervous about today, it showed in pictures and drove my photographer insane?

She bitterly chuckled. Classic Adrien.

Marinette: Nothing to be bragging about. I thought you were a professional?

Adrien: I am. That’s why I’m done already. All you have to do is to imagine spaghetti. :3

Marinette: Dork.

Adrien: Proudly so.

Adrien: Marinette, thank you. I REALLY appreciate you being with me on this one. Honestly, I just can’t do this alone, and I wanted to do this for so long now, I’m desperate. So, your help means a lot.  

I don’t want to help you, Marinette grumbled to herself.

That’s what friends are for, right? she wrote instead.

Adrien: She’s just so amazing, it terrifies me to lose her, but I can’t imagine myself being with anyone else. We’re perfect for each other. I hope you’ll agree with me once you’ll see who I’m talking about.  

Adrien: Okay, I’m downstairs. I’ll drop by after I see Father.

Marinette: Cool. See you soon.

She put her phone on the desk, pushing her designs away. Tears, successfully withheld by the distraction of work, surfaced at the corners of her eyes, as the reality of what was going on hit again. Adrien was in love with someone and that person wasn’t her despite Marinette’s most daring hopes because otherwise, Adrien wouldn’t be asking her for help.  

Someone opened the door, walking in without an invitation. Marinette quickly wiped away the lingering moisture in her eyes. Adrien couldn’t see her crying or he’d know she was less than happy about this confession of his. She was heartbroken, but for his sake, she'd keep a brave face and smile until the end.

“Lila?”

“Didn’t except me?” The woman walked closer and settled in a chair opposite Marinette, a mug of coffee in her hand.

“Not really,” Marinette replied coldly. She hated Lila for lies and manipulations. Why M Agreste hired her as a model was beyond her. “What do you want?”

“I’ve come to warn you,” Lila said, ceremonially checking her nails.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “About what?”

Lila smirked, putting her mug down on a table. “Adrien and I are going public today, and we’d like you to stay out of it.”

Marinette inwardly growled. There was no way that could’ve been true! Yes, Lila was not so subtly trying to get Adrien’s attention for a while now, but as far as Marinette knew, Adrien was tolerating her antics only out of innate politeness and kindness of his heart, not affection.

“You’re lying,” she seethed. “Adrien had never mentioned—”

“That’s because he knew you don’t like me, and he wanted to spare your feelings since you’re his friend and all.” Lila shrugged. “But we’ve been secretly dating for a while now. Not anymore, though.” She smirked. “Adrien’s taking me out for lunch on our first official date today. But, to make it easier for everyone, I thought I’d warn you”—Lila’s face became stone-cold, her voice and glare matching—“stay out of my boyfriend’s life or you’ll regret it, Marinette.”

“What if I won’t?” Marinette barked without thinking twice. “He’s my friend. I have a right to—"

“You have absolutely no rights when it comes to my boyfriend.”

“I won’t believe it until I hear it from him personally.”

“You shall see it on the news tonight."

Lila’s sly smile promised nothing good as she stood up, picked up her coffee, and turned around to leave. Her hand swayed. Marinette’s blood ran cold because the mug in Lila’s hands tipped over, all of the coffee inside spilling all over Marinette’s desk, her sketches and her outfit. “Oops! Clumsy me.”

“You!” Marinette rushed to save what she could of her work.

“Stay away from Adrien or this will only be the start,” Lila whispered, leaning closer. “He’s mine.”

“Oh my gosh! What happened here? Marinette, are you alright?” Adrien suddenly appeared by her side.

“Adrien,” Lila cooed. “You’re just in time. We have to help Marinette. She spilled her coffee all over her hard work.” She picked up a few coffee-drenched papers, making a show out of trying to save them. “You’re such a klutz, girl. Let me help you before you do any more damage.”

Marinette glared at Lila, pressing her lips into a thin line.

“Marinette, are you okay?” Adrien took her by the shoulders and turned to face him.  

“Of course, she isn’t,” Lila interfered. “Just look at her: the poor thing’s all soaked. And doesn’t she look pale to you? She might be getting sick. We should ask your father to give her a day off. Or better yet send someone to do that. We don’t want to be late for lunch. I'll go call someone.”

The moment Lila stepped out of the room, Marinette looked at Adrien and asked, “Are you really taking her out for lunch?”

Adrien pressed his lips together, looking away as he nodded.

Lost for words, lost for actions, lost for anything, all Marinette could do was to stare at the ground.

“It’s not—”

“Oh my gosh! Marinette, what happened?” Alya pushed Adrien to the side and took her friend by her shoulders. “You’re all soaked.”

“Found her wandering down the hall,” Lila looped her hand around Adrien’s arm. “She’s here to pick up Marinette for lunch which reminds me that we need to go now or we’ll be late for our reservation. The girls can take care of this mess by themselves, right Marinette?”

Marinette wanted nothing more than to slap Lila and take Adrien away. He deserved so much better! How could he fall for Lila? Didn’t he see what kind of a person Lila was? Didn’t he know how she felt about her? How could he ask her advice on this? Tears pooled in her eyes. Adrien was her best friend. She loved him, but this hurt too much. It felt too much as a betrayal, and if Adrien cared for her so little as to ask her for advice on how to woo her enemy, then Marinette didn’t want him to see how much that pained her.

“I’ll be fine with Alya.” Marinette turned away to gather her papers. “This is my mess; I’ll clean it up. You should go.”

“What’s going on here?” Gabriel Agreste himself appeared behind them.

“Marinette spilled coffee all over herself and her work,” Lila rushed to explain.

“Father, I think—”

“You should clean up and take a day off,” Gabriel interceded. “I’ll give you an extension on those. Now, Adrien. Why are you still here? Don’t you have lunch to go to?”

Adrien glanced at Marinette, then to his father. His lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I do.”

"Then off you go. Mlle Dupain-Cheng would be fine without you.”

“Right.” Adrien reached forward to lightly touch Marinette’s elbow. “I’ll call you later,” he mouthed and walked out the room with Lila Rossi on his arm.

Adrien didn’t contact her until the very evening when exhausted from the day, Marinette put the work she took home away and went for a stroll.

Adrien: Hey. Sorry, I had a few things to settle. How are you?

She closed her eyes for a moment, before looking back at the Seine. The gentle lure of waves calmed. It mesmerized and relaxed. Marinette always came here when she was stressed, or tired, or needed a pick me up. She couldn’t explain it, but there was something soothing and healing about gazing at the passing-by waters of the Seine. Her own safe haven, a little oasis in the desert of stress and chaos. Today, Marinette needed it more than ever.

Adrien: Marinette? Is everything okay?

No. Nothing was okay, and she’d rather not talk to him now, but… years of friendship and her treacherous heart demanded otherwise. He hurt her, but it was also him, who she wanted to comfort her right now. Pathetic, she knew that, but better texts than face to face.

Marinette: Everything’s fine. Taking a walk.

Adrien: Where are you off to?

Marinette: [image 1509]

Adrien: Pont des Arts?

Marinette: You know your Paris well.

Adrien took five minutes to reply, but when he did, he did so in person. “I know you well. You always come here when you need to calm down or to think things over.”

Marinette whipped around. Adrien was standing just a few meters away. Trying to catch his breath, he ran his hands through his dishevelled hair to fix it back in somewhat decent shape.

“Adrien? What are you doing here?”

“I need to ask you something.” He walked closer, stopping only when Marinette was pressed flash against the bridge, his hands on either of her sides, his face inches from hers. "Why didn't you expose her?”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t spill that coffee. Lila did. And don’t even try to deny it. You never bring drinks in your office unless it’s in an air-tight container because you think you’re too clumsy.”

Marinette shifted her eyes to the side. “I am clumsy.”

“Just a tiny, adorable amount. Nothing serious.” He cocked his head to the side. “So? Why did you let her get away with it?”

Marinette looked away. She hated Lila and Adrien knew that. What did he expect her to say? Why did he even come here? He should go back to that liar girlfriend of his.

“It’s so unlike you. I want to know what’s going on.”

She didn't know what to answer him, so she remained silent.

“Marinette, please? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then look me in the eyes and repeat that.”

She tried and failed. Adrien sighed and pulled her into his arms, whispering into her ear. “Marinette, please. Why did you allow her to walk all over you? You never did that before. What’s happened? You know I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

She closed her eyes. The gentle tone of his voice, the comforting wrap of his arms around her, his body’s warmth so close to hers… It stirred those damn butterflies at the pit of her belly, ripping through her heart at the same time… because he’d betrayed her. He��d fallen in love with the only girl whose guts Marinette hated more than anything and there was nothing either of them could do because who could control their heart? Adrien couldn’t help loving who he did… which, however, didn’t mean he could be so inconsiderate of her. He knew she hated Lila!

“Marinette?”

She pushed him away. It hurt to remain in his embrace any longer.

“Mari…”

“Leave me alone. Go to your girlfriend.”

His eyes widened as he stared at her in shock. “My girlfriend?”

“Lila.”

“Lila?!”

“Yes, Lila,” Marinette huffed, turning her back to him, her face to the Seine. “Can’t believe you had the audacity to ask me of all people for advice on that. You know how I feel about her!”

Her eyes focused on the rolling waves as Marinette waited for an answer that didn’t come for a few moments and not until Adrien walked to stand beside her, searching her face with his eyes.

“Just to make sure I understood you correctly: you think I’m in love with Lila?”

“Aren’t you? You took her to lunch just as you said you would.”

Adrien laughed, leaning on his arms to rest on the bridge. “Marinette, you know me better than that. I took Lila to lunch only because my father blackmailed me to do so.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “A likely story.”

“No, really. He said Lila dug some dirt on him and her price for silence was me. And Father, knowing you’re my friend, threatened to fire you if I won’t comply.”

Marinette looked at him, her eyebrows knitted into a frown. “What?”

“Don’t worry, your job is safe, and I made it clear to both of them that I’m not taking part in any of their bullshit. If Father wants her silence, he’d better pay for it some other way.” Gently, Adrien cupped her shoulder, turning Marinette to face him. “Seeing what she did to you… it made me angry. I wanted nothing more than to protect you at that moment, and the best way to do that was to deal with the cause once and for all. So, I trusted Alya to take care of you, and I went with Lila only to ensure she won’t be troubling you again. And after that, I visited Father and we had a long talk about the situation. He won’t be bothering either of us again as well.”

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds before muttering without thinking. “What did you do?”

“Nothing significant. I explained to Father how serious I was about quitting Gabriel the moment you’re fired and we both know he can’t afford me walking out. Not with me owning half of the company in my mother's shares. Lila, though, was harder to get through. She kept dismissing me until I pretty much avenged you. Then she got the message loud and clear.”

As in a haze, she echoed, “What did you do?”

Adrien grinned. “I might have placed my plate of spaghetti in a strategic place for it to be accidentally tipped over and end up all over Lila.”

Marinette gasped. “What?!”

His grin widened. “I only placed it in the spot. She did all the job herself, and”—he leaned closer—“there might have been a reporter close by and he might have taken pictures if you are interested.”

“What? How?”

Adrien chuckled. “Lila hired someone to ‘witness’ and report on our ‘first date’. The guy reached out to me later to see if I wanted to buy the embarrassing pictures of ‘my girlfriend’ from him. I wasn’t interested, but I saved his card in case you are.”

Marinette stared at him for a moment, then erupted with laughter. “You’re horrible.”

“She deserved so much more after what she did to you.”

“Still, spaghetti?”

“Just using her own methods against her, and only because she wouldn’t listen to me when I was nice.”

Marinette chuckled. “Dork.”

“And you like me that way, don’t you?”

“I do,” she smiled, relaxing against the railing. She looked up at the stars and breathed in. So many worries for nothing. She should've trusted Adrien more.  

“Marinette?”

She hummed, turning to him.

He looked hesitant, moving closer. “Were you jealous?”

Marinette squeaked, her face flaring crimson, as she shook her head. “No! Why would I be jealous? I—”

“You looked like you were jealous.”

“No, I wasn’t!” Her face burned hotter with every moment.

Adrien chuckled before turning serious and reaching out to cup her face in his hands. His touch, gentle and warm, sent electrical current down Marinette’s body. He slowly started to lean in. Her eyes widened with realization, fluttering close the moment his lips hesitantly brushed against hers.

“The girl I’m in love with is you, Marinette,” Adrien whispered, searching her face for a reaction. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met, and I’m the fool who couldn’t find the courage to confess to you for years without asking you to keep me accountable because I’m terrified my feelings will ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep it in anymore. I love you, Marinette.”

Dumbfounded, Marinette stared back at him wide-eyed. “Me? You love me?”

His lips tugged in a hopeful smile as he nodded. "Will you give me a chance? I promise I’ll make you happy if you’ll let me be more than just a friend.”

Marinette forgot how to breathe. “Adrien—I… I don’t understand. You said—I thought—”

She froze, seeing his face saddened, and shook her head. No! What was she doing? She’d dreamed of this moment for years and now that it was finally here, why was she stalling?

He slowly pulled his hands away.

She couldn’t let him misunderstand her even if her reaction was puzzling to her herself, so she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him down, crushing her lips against his.

Adrien stilled. Then wrapped his arms around her and angled his head to deepen the kiss. She let him press forward, pushing her against the railing of the bridge as their lips moved heatedly in tandem, years of pinned-up love and desire spilling out. It was only when the air became a necessity, she pulled away breathless and smiled at him.

“I love you too, Adrien. Have been for years.”

His face lit up.

“And just like you, I was too scared to confess. Looks like we’re both hopeless idiots.”

Adrien pulled her closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he pressed a lingering kiss to a patch of exposed skin he found there.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he whispered.

“You could’ve if you’d asked,” Marinette replied, running her fingers through his hair.

He leaned into her touch, almost purring from the pleasure. “Can I now?”

“Yes.”

He growled lowly, tightening his hold on her. “Mine.”

She giggled, wrapping her hands around his neck. “Possessive much?”

“Very.” He grinned. “Marinette?” Without letting her go, Adrien pulled a key with a ladybug keychain on it out from his pocket. “Will you also consider moving in with me?”

“What?” Marinette blinked. “Right away?”

He shrugged. “It’s not like we need time to get to know each other better. We grew up together. We know what makes us tick and what we like. Why wait?”

Marinette smiled. Adrien was right. They did know each other well. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t dreamed of sharing her days, her nights, her happy and sad moments, her dreams and fears, her life, her everything with him for years. Why wait indeed? “I’d love to move in with you.”

Adrien grinned harder and pulled her in for another kiss. Slow and sweet, filled with longing, and need, and desire.

“In that case,” he added, his voice raspy as he drew away and, pulling a small box out of his pocket, dropped on one knee. “Will you also consider marrying me?”

Marinette gasped as Adrien revealed a gorgeous ring inside.

“Adrien, you’re insane. What are you doing?”

“I thought I’ll ask everything in one go,” he admitted. “It took me years to confess, and I don’t want to wait that long for the next step. So why not? We can have a long engagement if you want, or you can say No now and I’ll ask again la—”

“No, you really are insane,” Marinette kneeled beside him, cupping his cheeks and kissing him slowly. “How can I say No to you?”

He grinned. “Is that a Yes then?”

“That’s a Yes.”

He held her gaze for a few moments, giving her that goofy, happy smile of his before shaking off his stupor and sliding the ring on her finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my life.”

“Me too.”

“I already looked up hamsters in my local pet store. They’re keeping a few for us to choose from until next week,” Adrien murmured. “You did want a hamster, right? Three kids and a hamster. We'll start with the hamster and add kids later—"

Marinette laughed and grabbed him by his coat’s collar again, pulling him closer.

“As much as I’d love to talk kids and hamsters with you,” she whispered. “Right now, I need you to kiss me senseless. Leave the rest for later.”

A lovesick smile tugged at his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Marinette echoed, weaving her arms around his neck, losing herself to the caresses of the man she loved more than anything.

[imnotwolverine]

The Monster’s Lair - Bloody Affairs

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 1 | Chapter 2 - Bloody Affairs | Chap 3 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - injury, man hunt, skin burns 

Author’s note: Before I write my long fics I usually gather a number of things to inspire me, including poems, movies, imagery and music. Music! I thought it’d be nice to share the playlist I made for this long fic as well. In case you, the reader, would like my tunes to enjoy while reading. Also, I’ll add specific songs per chapter, to kind of “set the mood”. I hope you sweethearts enjoy this chapter, and have a lovely Wednesday!

Also. Hello 500 followers! That’s like a small village!! HOLY DAMN! 

Word count: 2.374

Reading music: Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld - The Beast

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

A glow. 

Was the sun rising already? With a deep frown etched on his beautiful face the monster watched the glow grow in strength, setting alight the centre of the old town. Oh no, that was no sun, it was a fire! Fire! 

Opening the french doors out to the upper terrace, he stormed out into the equally stormy weather, his eyes widened as he peered into the distance, seeing what was amiss. 

It was with his sensitive, monster-like retina that he could pick up even the tiniest of detail in a mile wide radius, like a hawk in flight. And so he watched and listened, his ears pricking as he came to the bitter conclusion that it wasn’t just a simple fire. It was hell. 

From the blazing flames he could hear the screams, desperate panicked screams, that belonged to people who couldn’t seem to escape from the certain death that was awaiting them.

The monster panicked in turn, his eyes flitting over his attire. He was too visible like this, too easily recognisable. With the fire roaring he needed more than the shade of night to hide himself from the people’s curious eyes. If anything, he didn’t want them to know who he was, or what he was. And so, with great haste, he rushed inside, picking out a large cloak that flew out behind him like a bat’s wing, large, impending and cloud-like, the heavy fabric flapping in the angry wind that flowed with him down the pine tree covered hills.

It was an advantage of his disposition, that he had such strength and speed.

Far superior to all creatures and men around, he could move faster than a hundred horses combined and rip apart logs like they were sheets of the thinnest paper. And, in this situation, it was exactly what was needed, the flames lapping around the town’s houses and church with great hunger. The old wood structures were no match - or in fact a literal match - to the doom that was impending.

Arriving at the scene, hidden in the mask of darkness, he watched. Strange. There were barely any people, most rushing out to fetch help or water. It was clear as day that someone needed to help them, NOW. And so he did. 

With careful steps he moved out into the flickering light of the flames that cast an eerie orange glow over the town square, people so busy rushing that they did not notice him. The screams were so loud they were nearly painful in his sensitive ears, and yet he didn’t back away.

Pulling his cape further over his head, making sure he remained turned with the wind so his face wouldn’t show, he rushed to one of the houses where the most desperate of cries came from.

In the sea of flames he noticed that the door had been barricaded by a fallen down floor, making it impossible for the woman and children inside to flee. Restless wails and pained cries was all he heard as he stormed into the fire like it was nothing, his flesh not feeling pain like humans do, his clothes melting around his limbs like a second skin as the flames licked, willing him to surrender.

But there was no surrender for the beast.

With mighty strength, a growl thundering through his large chest, he pushed aside the blockade, his claw-like hands instinctively reaching for the family inside, their eyes squinting in the biting heat of the blaze.

‘COME.’ He boomed, his voice so loud that the people outside could swear they heard a thunder crack in the restless skies above. And, as the family wasn’t moving, frozen in fear as they looked straight into his face, he stepped further into the flames, practically dragging the three children and their shivering mother out by their neck hair, shocked little wails flying from their gasping mouths as they were now suddenly back outside. Almost entirely unharmed.

‘THE BEAST!’ A villager screamed, pointing at the dark figure that stood out in the flames, his clothes ablaze but his stature calm. More villagers joined, turning around from their busiment to fetch water, large eyes looking in shock as they saw that poor mother with three children, tugged along by the dark creature that had risen from the flames.

‘KILL HIM!’ The crowd roared atop the loud wicker of the crying fire, women and wind. And with that, the mother managed to free herself with a panicked tug from the monster’s grasp, heavy billowing tears over her cheeks as she reached back out for her children, the monster letting them go without a fight, his gleaming eyes looking back over the crowd and seeing pitchforks being gathered.

Had he not done good? Was this his penance, to forever be hated so? With a frustrated sigh he fled the scene, the flames that still licked his body dying as he rushed with great speed up the long path that led back to his domains. And as he ran, nearly flying with the wind in his face, arms shielding himself from being seen, the skies started to cry for him.

And how they cried.

At first the rainwater was but a light spray of slow and meager drops, but as he ran further and further from the village, the larger and more desperate the showers came down, drowning with it the last of the sounds of uproar that he had left behind him.

‘Please...Belle..’ A soft voice alarmed him that someone was near, feeble and beaten down in the ditch that was now quickly becoming muddy. The monster hesitated, his flight coming to a halt as he watched the crumpled down man that sat there. Belle’s father.

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the angry mob coming into view. Afoot and on horse, ready to chase him down even if it would be the death of them - which it likely would be might the situation truly escalate as quickly as those flames now ate up the town square.  

ARGH! How could it be so, that despite his best efforts, he just couldn’t do good? With a desperation in his still beating heart he left the poor man behind, continuing his flight back to the safety of his monsterly lair, where he’d lick his wounds. Some hurting, others mere burned flesh and tender sinew.

--

‘Come Phelippe! No horsing around now.’ Belle grumbled, eyeing the stubborn horse who shook his head in disagreement, his manes flying majestically in the stormy wind, the dark of night swallowing the large fields around them.

‘No? No?! Come on! It’s about to rain!’ She exclaimed, raising her hands in defeat as the dark bay nickered. ‘Well, very well then! I’m off. You stay there!’ She started to walk away, her torch bleeding flames as the wind whipped harshly around her, her braided hair becoming damp as the first spray of water droplets leaked from the roaring skies.

It was then the horse finally gave in, hesitant hooves following her until she felt his warm nose press into her shoulder. ‘Oh! And now you are..-’ Her smile died on her lips as she saw an orange glow appear in the far distance, the glow bright and evil looking in the unblinking dark. The village. Gasping quietly, her feet falling back to join the large horse, she tangled her fingers into its mane, hoping it would sooth her sudden disquieted mind.

Wait..was that the town hall? Was papa alright?!

--

Stay home, Belle. Stay home.

Her father had been adamant on her not sneaking out tonight - especially with the beast on the loose. Belle had begrudgingly given her consent, taking the task upon her to watch over the horses as her father was out in the town hall. And so here she stood, her hands gripping large wads of hay as she moved over the thick brown coat of the mare, rubbing down sweat, mud and rain. She had used the horse to fetch the string of other horses that had been in the back of the field, the storm now quickly gaining strength. With the horses safe and sound inside the stables, she couldn’t help but wonder what her father was up to, her eyes looking at the open barn doors that rattled nervously in the fierce wind.

Outside she saw the rain as it poured, finally, small streams of water running down the path that linked the village to the mansion of the Les Comtes.

Perhaps he was helping with the fire or perhaps the town hall meeting ran late, she thought, warily watching the darkness outside. It wasn’t very much like her father to leave her out and alone so late at night. Never. From her very first memory, father was always closeby, ever protective, though also trying his best to give her what freedom she desired to bloom into the 20-year old woman she had now grown out to be.

Old. Ha! Yes, some town folk had started saying she was old now, and if not careful no man would want her hand in marriage. She’d become an old spinster, like Miss Guinee that lived at the other edge of town in the tiniest of cots, her cough so bad that people had set bets on when she’d pass on.

But alas. Miss Guinee was a tough cookie. And so was Belle. She was most definitely not going to settle for less than..

A figure passed by. Hurried, hidden in a long shredded to pieces cloak that swished wide and wing-like behind him. Papa? Oh, he and his poor eyesight were really going to bring him in some type of trouble someday. With hastened paces she rushed to the door opening, calling for the figure as he rushed further and further up the path.

In the half dark and rain she could see him turn, a pale face catching a glimpse of the lights inside the barn. It wasn’t her father. In fact she wasn’t sure who this was. A man. And then he disappeared. Quite literally disappeared. In the blink of an eye the silhouette of the man vanished into thin air, leaving Belle quite perplexed before her attention was pulled to an uproar down wind. An angry mob approaching.

Flickering torches, angry fists, raised pitchforks, the rain around them coming down heavy from the night’s sky, it was obvious that the townsfolk were on the hunt. First in line being the Old Master’s son Ismael.

‘Belle.’ He called, halting his grey steed besides the beauty who still stood there in the door opening, just outside of the rain. He offered her a self-confident smirk from the dark of his hood, the stable lights shining on his handsome, square jawed face.

‘Sir Le Comte.’ She said, not all impressed by his haughty behaviour, her doe-like eyes instead looking out at the madding crowd that was coming closer on foot.

‘Oh, Ismael to you, dear Belle.’ He smiled, before realising she was not watching him, but the townsfolk that were nearing. ‘Say Belle, please do not tell me you are left to fend for yourself! No lady should befall such a faith!’ He said with a false tone of care, making Belle sniffle in bemusement.

‘And you are here to save me with your ..mad crowd?’ She eyed the farmers, butchers and bakers that now joined the two of them, surrounding Ismael and his trusty steed. All huddled away in heavy wet cloaks, torches in hand. 

Belle clutched her shawl around her chest, shivering in the suddenly rather cold wind and splash of water that blew inside the barn opening. The people looked enraged.  

‘Tis in fact the beast, we have seen!’ One of the villagers roared.

‘The beast?’ Belle looked back at Ismael, confused, the man shrugging as if it left him unaffected, not in the least bit worried - ever the hero, huh?

‘Indeed. Have you seen any odd beings roam about the stables, by any chance? And where is your father anyw-?’  -  ‘You mean you have not seen my father?’ Belle interrupted, her eyes flicking back to study the faces that glimmered in the torch lights. Angry, bewildered people. Familiar faces. But none resembling her father.

Where was he?

‘Belle..oh Belle!’ Ismael exclaimed with an exasperated sigh, coming down from his horse and stretching out his hand to cup her cheek with his wet, gloved hand. ‘Now, please know that I will personally keep you safe, if must be. That old man..’ He huffed. ‘..is clearly quite inapt for the job.’

‘You have not seen father..’ Belle gasped, then ducked away from Ismael’s hand to walk into the crowd, into the rain, calling for Arthur, but failing midway as Ismael grasped her wrist just a bit too tightly, spinning her back around.

‘Say now Belle. You have not answered my question, darling dear.’

Belle frowned and looked back at Ismael, his hand digging painfully in her skin. ‘The beast? Oh no..I have seen no beast come through these parts.’ She said, hiding the knowledge of one strange man just passing by.

‘Hmm..then perhaps he has taken the east road!’ Ismael roared, letting Belle go from his iron grip, his hand now gesturing one of his man to stay behind. ‘And as for Belle. I shall return my sweet, and for you alone I shall skin and bleed that beast, make it a fine hide for beneath our feet!’ He stepped closer and brushed an unwanted thumb over her grimacing face before turning back towards the crowd. 

‘LET US HUNT!’ He cried, not noticing that Belle quietly continued to ask people for the whereabouts of her father.

None knew.

None until the crowd had left, except for one brusk looking man that quickly rushed inside the stable, to hide from the roaring storm. It was clear that he was not even thinking for one single moment to “protect” Belle as he had been instructed. 

Belle stepped back in the door opening, peering out in the dark until she noticed a sole figure appearing from the shadows. With slow heavy steps he came closer, the barn lights finally revealing him to be her father, his hand clutched over a bleeding wound on his temple.

‘PAPA!’ She cried in horror, rushing over to him, back in the on-going downpour. ‘Papa..what happened?’ She said in more of a hush tone, looking over her shoulder to see the townsfolk return to the main road, the mob taking a sharp turn to the east, their torches slowly fading back in the darkness, an angry glow of the fire at the townsquare still roaring in the background.

Belle sighed in quiet despair. It appeared that even the crying heavens couldn’t stop this bloody terror.

‘Come papa.’ She muttered, offering him her support. ‘Let us get you inside.’ Her eyes quickly traced back at the north road, to the exact spot where she had seen that strange man. And she couldn’t help but wonder.

Had that been..the beast?

--

Chap 3 >

--

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[c-optimistic]

brave

They met as wide-eyed, sticky fingered, mess inclined, and chatty third graders. And Kara had known it was a love story from the start.

Well, all right. No, she didn’t know at eight years old, per se. She certainly had figured it out by the time they were seniors in high school, but in third grade, watching some short, grubby, sniffling boy attempt to shove Lena off the swing set made Kara see red, not hearts, ending up with a fistful of the boy’s shirt, making threats there was no way she could’ve backed up. (That bully hadn’t seemed to realize that; she found out he’d transferred schools not a week later, teachers citing he had ‘irreconcilable issues’ with the other students—namely, Kara.)

The point, of course, was that it wasn’t exactly the beginning of some romantic love story. Rather, it turned into Lena’s favorite thing to talk about when they met new people, an icebreaker of sorts when she met with investors and board members and random strangers on the street, the lot of them chuckling over Lena Luthor’s childhood best friend.

(“She was barely three feet tall, I swear. But she scared him with nothing but narrowed eyes and a gritted voice and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more impressive. My best friend was, and I guess still is, a badass.”

Not that she’d admit it, but Kara always blushed at the story and at Lena’s added comment at the end.)

And the thing was, she knew she screwed up. Because Lena was more than just a best friend to her—most times, Lena felt a little bit like everything. Lena was her rock, her anchor, her grounding point. When everything was going wrong in her life, it had been Lena that she turned to, Lena who held her hand, Lena who allowed her to sob on her shoulder.

Falling in love with her best friend wasn’t a part of their story. Until, well, it was. And once it happened, it felt pretty damn inevitable. (Like the sun rising. Like the stars shining. Like the rising and falling tides. Like the changing of seasons and the blooming of flowers and the fresh scent of an afternoon breeze.)

Yet, when Kara shared these thoughts with the others in her life, she wasn’t exactly met with a response that inspired much confidence. Alex just laughed at the use of the word inevitable, Winn questioned her sanity more than once, and James had pulled her into a silent hug. And yes, their support would’ve been nice, but it’d gotten to the point that Kara didn’t care what they thought, because they hadn’t been there the day she met Lena. Her sister and friends weren’t there when Kara turned to Lena, her chest heaving in anger, horrified that anyone would dare hurt someone over a swing set, and Lena had smiled at her, stuck out her hand (already practicing her future career, already charming and clever and confident), and leaned forward.

“Hi,” she’d said, “I’m Lena. Thanks for helping me.”

And Kara (clumsy, cheerful, and carefree) promptly fell in love.

It just took her ten more years recognize it for what it was, then another ten before she did anything about it.

x

Lena was her best friend.

She didn’t come to such a conclusion lightly. No, at nine years old and precocious to boot, Kara took great care in the way she labeled the people in her life. Alex was her sister in all but blood—their families close, spending most free evenings and weekends with Alex, Eliza, and Jeremiah—and Clark, her actual blood relative, was a continual disappointment, making promises he seemed never able to keep.

And Lena, Lena was her best friend.

“Is that why you talk about her so much?” her mother asked one afternoon, home early from work, an exhausted but pleased expression on her face. “Because she’s your best friend?” Kara didn’t understand the wry smile, the funny expression. It didn’t seem to matter at the time.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully, bounding over to her mother and ignoring her aunt’s snort from where she sat in the kitchen, head buried in a book, hands preoccupied with a mug of hot chocolate (the one she made for Kara long finished, burnt tongue forgotten in the repeated—and rejected—requests for more). “Like you and father! Or Aunt Astra and Uncle Non!”

Astra looked up at the sound of her name, brows furrowed in the way that Kara worked so hard to mimic, and she put her mug aside, lips quirking into something resembling a smile.

“Oh little one,” she began slowly, shaking her head as she clearly steeled herself to say something, her eyes soft in the way she only ever looked at Kara. “That’s not—”

“—it’s fine, Astra,” Kara’s mother interrupted, her own smile still in place. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out eventually without our help. Kara’s a smart girl.”

Astra laughed and agreed, neither her nor Kara’s mother deigning to answer Kara’s repeated questions as to what was so funny.

(Later, Kara will find solace in the fact that though she was too young and too naïve to put her feelings into words, her aunt and mother had understood anyway. Even years later, it felt important that her family had known about what she felt for Lena—it was a big thing in her life, and she was glad she somehow shared it with her family.)

x

Lena did not get along with her adoptive mother.

Kara wasn’t sure why, Lena never quite explained or even acknowledged it except with soft sighs and resigned expressions. Alex told Kara that the Luthors were an old family—Kara didn’t really understand what that meant and Alex assured her once she was a teenager it’d make sense—and that Lillian Luthor was a stickler for tradition.

(The truth was that Eliza and Jeremiah had worriedly discussed a bruise Kara had mentioned to her parents offhandedly when telling them every detail about her day with Lena, and Alex had merely repeated phrases she’d heard her parents utter.

The truth was that ‘did not get along’ was an understatement, not at all an accurate description of what Lena dealt with everyday, and yet those in any position to offer help were rendered powerless against a name like Luthor and everything that entailed.)

Kara wasn’t a teenager like Alex, she wasn’t wise like Lena, but the same protective instinct she’d felt in elementary school made a raging comeback in middle school when Lena confided to her that she was afraid to go home, afraid to disappoint her mother somehow. And it was so different from Kara’s own experiences—her own desire to spend as much time as she could with her busy mother, looking forward to the days she wasn’t buried in cases, unbuttoning the top two buttons of her shirt as she finally walked through the door late at night, forcing the exhaustion from her face and smiling wide at Kara—that she took Lena by the hand and told her quite firmly that she didn’t have to go home at all.

When Lionel Luthor himself came by their home several hours later, he frowned at the protective way Kara stood in front of Lena, listened carefully to what Kara’s mother had to say, then knelt down and placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder.

“I’m very glad Lena has a friend like you, Kara,” he said, using his free hand to rub his bald head unconsciously, weariness tingeing his actions and words. “Do you mind if she spends more of her time here?”

“Of course not,” Kara answered, almost offended that he even felt the need to ask. Lena was her best friend. She didn’t think there was anything she wasn’t willing to do for Lena.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lionel Luthor said as he got back to his feet, looked over to Kara’s parents now. “Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Thank you for your daughter.” He grinned over at Kara, holding out a hand for Lena, seemingly unsurprised that Lena took great care to first squeeze Kara’s hand in thanks before reaching out for her father.

(When she was tucked in that night, Kara’s mother told her she was proud of her, that she did the right thing bringing Lena home with her.

And many years later, Lena will squeeze her hand much like she had that day, smiling as she said, “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”)

x

She was thirteen when her parents died in that fire and her aunt and uncle were jailed for it.

Clark and the Danvers called it an explosion, the papers called it an attack by those who disagreed with her parents’ work, but Kara always referred to it as ‘that fire’ both in her head and out loud. It was ‘that fire that killed her parents,’ ‘that fire that ruined her life,’ ‘that fire that took everything from her.’ She didn’t want to give that fire legitimacy by giving it a proper name, a proper description. It was cruel and senseless and quick, and Kara could do nothing but hate that fire in the only way she knew how: by never dwelling on it, by never giving it a name.

(Calling it that fire rather than ‘murder’ or ‘crime’ or ‘loss of everything she once held sacred’ made her feel better, made her think that maybe one day she would hear the name Astra and not want to throw up, that she could think of her parents and not imagine the horror they must have felt when their own family stabbed them in the back.

Calling it that fire gave Kara distance and separation, two things she desperately needed unless she wanted images of a bright red flame tearing everything she held dear apart seared into the back of her eyelids, visible every time she closed her eyes.)

Only Lena had ever seemed to understand. Only Lena had never once brought it up, merely following Kara’s lead and referring to the explosion, the attack, the death of her parents, as nothing more than that fire.

And Kara was thirteen, she was heartbroken and alone, and Clark—the one her parents had named as her guardian in the event anything went wrong—packed his things and disappeared, leaving her with the Danvers.

(“I’m too young to be a parent,” he’d said, hugging her tightly. “I’m not good for you, Kara, please understand that.”

She didn’t, of course.)

And Kara was thirteen and she had Alex’s warm hugs at night, promising her that they were officially sisters and she’d always be there, and she had Lena’s tight grip on her hand at school, silently swearing she’d always lend her strength, the two of them spending every free moment together.

But Kara was thirteen, and she mistook the love she felt for Lena with the sort of love she felt for Alex, and that seemed enough at the time.

x

“What’re you doing?” Alex asked, chin on Kara’s shoulder, eye on the sketchbook placed on the desk in front of her. She grimaced a little when she noticed the graphite coating Kara’s fingers, and she reached out, plucking each individual digit, prying them from the pencil in Kara’s hand, rolling her eyes when Kara merely huffed and hunched her shoulders, attempting to ward off Alex’s lanky limbs.

“None of your business.”

“You’re in the middle of the living room, it’s my business when you’re in my line of sight.”

“How about I use that argument when you’re chatting with whatever her name is on the phone until three in the morning?”

As if the words were a jolt of electricity, Alex’s arms pulled away from Kara, her entire body floundering as she stumbled backwards, managing nothing more coherent than a series of half-hearted monosyllabic protests.

“That was a low blow, Kara,” Alex hissed once she got her head on straight, looking decidedly annoyed. “You promised not to bring it up if I bought you ice cream after school.”

“You got me a Popsicle, it wasn’t the same and the deal is off.”

“What’re you hiding?” Alex asked, eyes suddenly narrowing, much more interested in the sketchbook than Kara felt comfortable with. “You’re always more snarky when you’re hiding something.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a lot of homework and I promised Eliza I’d help with dinner so—” She attempted to pick up the sketchbook and get up from her seat at the table, but Alex pushed her back down, tugging the sketchbook towards herself with only one finger, her movements exaggeratedly slow, as if daring Kara to stop her.

“Rambling and attempting to hide away?” She whistled, flipping the cover of the sketchbook open agonizingly slowly, one finger thumbing the bottom of the first page, drawing out the moment she’d finally turn it over. “It must be a big deal if you’re acting like this.”

“It’s really just a sketch, it’s nothing—”

Alex turned the page, and there, in graceful pencil strokes, was a sketch of their neighbor’s dog.

“Are you kidding? You were hiding this?” Alex demanded, sounding more disappointed than she had any right to.

“I told you it’s nothing, you didn’t believe me.” Kara held her breath, not daring to look away from Alex’s gaze, hoping that her adoptive sister saw nothing but sincerity and honesty. Unfortunately, Alex knew her better than Kara had imagined, because a moment later a wicked grin appeared on her face, and she flipped through the sketchbook, pausing when she reached the pages about halfway through, her eyes widening as she took in the drawings.

“This is so gross,” Alex finally commented, shutting the book and pushing it towards Kara. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gross.”

“It is. It’s sappy and sickly sweet and it’s just gross.”

“Stop saying that, it’s not gross—”

“—you drew pictures of your best friend like a sap, Kara. Puppies and Lena. That’s what you spend your time drawing.”

“I like puppies and I like Lena. Maybe if you were nicer, I’d draw you too.”

“And be subjected to that cavity inducing mess? No way.” She huffed, collapsing over Kara, arms and legs splayed wide and their position terribly uncomfortable—both because Kara felt crushed and because she was sure the way Alex had thrown herself over Kara couldn’t have been good for her back. “When are you going to do things I can hold over your head for years to come? I mean, besides the getting caught on the roof thing.”

“I do things!” Kara insisted, shoving Alex to the floor when her adoptive sister’s only response was to laugh uproariously at the lie. It proved to be less of a fib much later in the week, after she tossed her paints at Alex, learning through a call from Lena that Alex had torn out one of the drawings and gifted it to the Luthor.

Alex fondly dubbed it the ‘Paint Incident’ and she brought it up every chance she got.

x

“Wait. Wait,” Kara said, holding up a hand and staring at Lena in confusion. “You want to…break into the art room…why exactly?”

“Look, taking art was your fault in the first place, Kara,” Lena said, wringing her hands together and staring determinedly at the floor as she paced feverishly up and down the length of Kara’s bedroom. “You said things like ‘oh take it it’ll be fun, we’ll be in class together’ fat load of fun it’s been to fail—”

“—you’re failing art? I didn’t realize that was even a thing—”

“—so the very least you can do is help me break in to steal back my final piece so that I can fix it before Mrs. Grendson grades it,” Lena continued, ignoring Kara entirely and looking terribly pleased about that fact. She ceased her pacing and turned to Kara desperately, hands now clenched at her sides. “Please, Kara. I can’t fail. Especially not in art.”

Kara stared at her best friend, open-mouthed, trying to think of a response other than flat out laughing at the distress on Lena’s face, the certainty that Mrs. Grendson was capable of failing anyone, let alone a Luthor.

(Lex was long gone, making a name for himself in every corner of the scientific community, but their high school still thought fondly of him—and all the trophies and awards he brought for them.

Sometimes, Kara wondered if it was hard for Lena to grow up with Lex towering over her as he did, casting a rather large shadow.)

“How do you know if your redone work will be better? Apparently you’re terrible at art.”

At this, Lena smirked.

(It did funny things to Kara’s chest.)

“Because you’re going to do it for me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you owe me,” Lena murmured, stepping over to where Kara sat on her bed, advancing rather slowly.

(It made Kara feel like her heart was attempting to pound straight out of her chest.)

“I don’t know if that’s true…” Kara said weakly, trailing off when Lena’s smirk just widened and she was standing so close to Kara that her legs brushed Kara’s knees, the heat of her skin practically burning Kara.

“Please, Kara?”

(She wasn’t sure if it was the please, the proximity, the heavy pulse, or even the pathetic groan she hoped that Lena hadn’t heard, but it didn’t matter. One minute Lena was looking down at her, asking her to break nearly a dozen school rules—and Kara was rather generally fond of rules—and the next Kara was nodding dumbly, unable to say no.

Later she’ll think about this moment, the look in Lena’s eyes as she stared down at Kara, and it’ll give her hope.)

x

For the most part, Kara was remarkably good at pretending she was fine. It’d been a little over three years since she lost her entire family in one fell swoop, and it was easy to fake a smile, to push away the sadness that threatened to creep up and envelop her whole, to take each day as it came and never allow anything to bog her down for long. There was something…easy…about the way she lost her family. It was clean and quick, a surgical cut, and while the pain and emptiness remained, she knew she’d manage to heal somewhat—hobble on despite the scars, keep moving despite the ache that shadowed her every movement.

(She had Alex and Eliza and Jeremiah to lean on too, analgesics during a time she felt overwhelmed by pain, soothing her and calming her, turning the angry, red wound into a neat scar that served as a constant reminder, with a twinge of pain she came to expect on rainy days.

Lena only had her.)

Lionel Luthor’s death was slow and cruel. Lena’s cuts were jagged and deep, never quite given the chance to heal, left festering and infected, scar tissue never forming. There was nothing to soothe her, nothing to do to take away the pain, because each time she even drifted close to the process of beginning to heal, her father’s health began to deteriorate—or even worse, would improve, giving her hope only to have that hope come crashing down.

Lex disappeared on her, unable to witness the slow pace with which the illness took his father, and Lillian…Lillian was never much of a mother anyway, and hoping she’d offer comfort to a teenage girl was too much to ask.

Kara, who’d experienced loss and everything that entailed (the memories that kept her awake at night, the lingering anger at the unfairness of the universe, the regret that she’d never share her artwork with her parents, never excitedly tell them about her day or her passions or her love), wasn’t quite sure how to stitch Lena together. After all, when Kara lost everything, she found herself still loved and still cared for, sure that at the end of the day she could get a hug and a chance to forget her pain. But Lena? Lena had shattered and putting her back together was too big a task for Kara alone. She shied away from hugs, refused to accept comfort, and it took weeks before Kara realized the best she could do was merely offer her presence, the silent promise that she would stay—something solid and real and permanent amongst everything that had changed in Lena’s life.

Because after Lionel Luthor died, Kara learned that sometimes love just wasn’t enough to help people heal.

x

It was two weeks before graduation that Kara…figured it out.

(It being her feelings for Lena, the very feelings her mother and aunt understood before her, feelings she was rather sure Lionel understood before her, feelings Alex understood before Kara even bothered to put a name to them.)

Then again, ‘figuring it out’ was putting it simply, as if she woke up one morning and the knots tangled in her chest somehow unwound and realization came crashing down. It wasn’t like that at all, though. It was slow and arduous, a long time coming and yet somehow mysteriously shocking and life-changing.

She figured that the unraveling of that knot in her chest began with Lionel’s death, when her heart would hammer away in her chest just at the sight of Lena’s smile, which came rarely and disappeared quickly. Or maybe it was when they went to their senior prom together, neither quite willing to put up with boys wearing too much of their father’s cologne and ill-fitting suits. Maybe even it was when Lena held her hand as they laid together in her bed watching a movie Kara had picked out and Lena quietly confided that she didn’t think she was very much into boys at all.

(Most likely, however, it was on a playground in third grade, after threatening a boy she didn’t know and getting the most dazzling smile in reward, a smile Kara would swear shone brighter than any star she spent hours gazing at with Alex.)

It was two weeks before graduation and she felt so stupid for not seeing it before, for not paying more attention, for mistaking the flutter and the swoop and the sense of rightness with the same sort of love she felt for Alex or the boy in her chemistry class who always managed to make her laugh with his antics. She’d allowed herself to pretend, to overlook, to be blissfully ignorant, and all the while her heart had been busy breaking apart piece by piece and reforming somewhere in the palm of Lena’s hands.

She was in love with Lena Luthor. It was such a relief to think, like her lungs had finally managed to fill with air for the first time in her life—as if a weight she hadn’t even been aware of finally was lifted off her shoulders, giving her a chance to stand up straight and tall.

(Every smile that took her breath away, every touch that made her heart race, every comment that had her feeling warm suddenly made sense. And she felt so…blind. How could she have looked Lena in the eye and thought anything other than god I love you and mistaken the promises to always be there and always protect her for anything other than proud declarations of her feelings?

How had she spent ten years around Lena and not realized that she’d fallen head over heels for her best friend?)

It was two weeks before graduation and Lena was lounging on the couch, arguing with Alex over advances in biomedical engineering, the movie Alex had put on long forgotten. At first, Kara had been content to follow along silently, not adding to the debate even when Alex scoffed at Lena’s mentions of Lex’s work, but then her focus had shifted from the words to the way Lena waved her hands around as she tried to get her point across, the way her eyes lit up, the way she impatiently tossed her hair over one shoulder. It was the animation in her voice and the grin on her lips and goddid Kara love her.

As soon as she thought it, she panicked, jumping a little and sending popcorn toppling over the edge of her bowl and onto the ground.

(The thought came so easily, as if it’d always been there in the back of her mind, biding its time until Kara was too distracted or too tired to tack on the just a friend as she tended to do mechanically.

Because of course Kara knew she loved Lena—she just hadn’t been brave enough or smart enough or just old enough to realize all loves weren’t the same.)

“Kara?” Alex asked, staring at her oddly, one eyebrow raised, her argument with Lena forgotten for a moment. “Are you okay?”

“Kara?” Lena prodded when Kara was silent a beat too long.

(And she was so beautiful. Kara wondered how she hadn’t noticed before—the smooth skin and dark hair and vivid eyes that seemed to change color—how she’d never been struck dumb when faced with Lena when she was least expecting it.)

“I—I’m fine. For a second I thought I forgot to do homework but then I realized hey! It’s graduation soon! What does it matter, right? Ignore me, honestly, I think it’s just that I haven’t been sleeping—”

“Up talking all night with Daniel again?” Alex asked with raised eyebrows, looking like she was about to approach Kara, about to attempt to needle information out of her, but Kara could only stare at Lena, watching as her best friend turned to look at the ground.  

(It’s not what it sounds like, Kara wanted to yell. She didn’t like Daniel—not like that. But he was helping her with Lena’s surprise for graduation, something that had taken longer than Kara had expected.

But Lena wasn’t meeting her eyes and Alex was waggling her eyebrows suggestively and oh this was bad time for a life-altering realization.)

“Daniel’s helping me with something,” Kara said quickly, getting to her feet and crossing her arms, not at all amused by the way Alex kept grinning. “Besides you know I don’t like him.”

Alex laughed, shaking her head.

“Um no,” she said, turning to Lena as if to ask for support, eyebrows furrowing just slightly when she noticed Lena’s pinched expression and downcast eyes, “you’ve been super secretive these past few weeks. What’re you up to?”

“Can we just watch the movie please?” Kara begged, and something must’ve shown on her face because Alex’s eyes shifted from Lena (who was still staring rather determinedly at the floor) to Kara and then back, her mouth falling open in shock or excitement or confusion—or maybe a little of all three.

“You know what, the movie sounds nice,” Alex murmured, shooting Kara a look that screamed they’d be spending that night talking on the roof like they did when Kara was first taken in by the Danvers and everything was still so raw.

(Kara thought to just tell Lena right after graduation, blurt out the truth just like ripping off a Band-Aid. But when the day finally arrived, Kara could barely breathe when she looked out into the sea of parents and suddenly found herself longing for her family, an ache that wasn’t made easier even though Alex was screaming in the stands and Eliza and Jeremiah were clapping as loudly as they could.

And if Kara was struggling, how did Lena feel when no one showed up for her at all?

So instead Kara shoved her feelings down and gave Lena the bracelet she’d gone to Daniel and his family for help to make, deciding then and there she could wait.

She just ended up waiting a little longer than she expected.)

x

She always found an excuse to remain silent, utterly convinced by the lies she told herself, the I’ll tell her tomorrow and the it’s not a good time and the she looks so busy right now.

She stayed silent the entire summer before they went off to college (“Come on, Alex,” she’d defended when Alex gave her knowing looks and made pointed comments, “she’s not even here, she’s on vacation in France with Lex”) and then bit her tongue during the first several months of their first semester, nodding and forcing a smile whenever Lena spoke of her first real girlfriend (“She’s beautiful, Kara, and so smart, god I could listen to her talk all day”), shamefully relieved the day she learned that long-distance had been too much to handle for the other girl. In fact, the first time Kara came even close to admitting the truth was their first Christmas away from home, the two of them deciding to spend it with Alex and a girl she’d only introduce as ‘Sawyer’ with a strange expression on her face.

She came close to admitting the truth when Lena brushed by her and whispered that it was so easy to tell when someone was in love, grinning over at Alex and winking playfully, and Kara wanted to ask, if it truly was so easy, why Lena still hadn’t been able to tell Kara was in love.

She didn’t of course.

Lena looked terribly busy as she chatted away with Maggie, a smile gracing her lips.

x

It took Alex and Maggie another month to get their shit together and admit their feelings.

A month after that they went on their first date.

Near the end of Kara’s freshman year Alex had rushed over to Kara’s dorm, gushing about how she just admitted she loved Maggie and how great it felt and how Kara had to tell Lena now, she just had to.

And Kara…well, she tried.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Kara said with a grin, just finishing off her story about Alex for Lena, the two of them laying out on the grass outside the building where they had their last exam. She leaned back, staring up at the blue sky, hands pillowed behind her head. “It’s romantic and sweet and just…new love. How beautiful.” She was about to say more, wax poetic about how happy Alex was, maybe segue into her own feelings if she felt an opening, but Lena snorted slightly and Kara found herself turning to her best friend, shocked to see the distaste coloring Lena’s expression. “What?” Kara asked, rolling her eyes a little. “Is this too saccharine for you?”

“No, I’m happy for Alex.” When Kara just raised an eyebrow in response, Lena sighed and elaborated. “I am happy for Alex. It’s just…come on, Kara. Let’s be real. Love doesn’t exist.”

(If there was anything that could break Kara’s heart, it was that.

And god it was said so easily, so terribly sure and matter of fact, and Kara didn’t know why it was so hard to breathe suddenly.)

“W-what do you mean? Love is real. You’re my best friend and I love you.” (This was the closest she’d ever get to admitting the depth of her feelings for another nine years.)

“That’s not the same,” Lena answered, pink dusting her cheeks suddenly, looking awfully interested in the grass. “Love is…it’s a series of chemical reactions. And it’s temporary and fleeting and finicky.”

(Temporary? Fleeting? That wasn’t Kara’s experience. She’d been in love since she was eight, before she could recognize it for what it was, before she knew the feeling had a name.

But if Lena was right, which she often was, did that mean what Kara felt wasn’t love, was something different, something stronger and more lasting?)

“Lena, you can’t mean that. Love is, you know, love. It’s why we’re here. It’s why anyone does anything. Even if you don’t feel romantic love—”

“I don’t mean I don’t feel it, Kara. I mean it doesn’t last.” She swallowed hard, clenched and unclenched her hands, turning to Kara warily. “Look, can we just talk about something else?”

“Well no, now we can’t, now I want to know why you’re so anti-love.”

Lena stared at her, expression hard and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, then she turned away. Kara didn’t think she’d answer until she did, Lena seeming more surprised by her honesty than Kara felt.

“Because I asked my mother if she loved my father,” Lena admitted in a soft voice. “And she said love had nothing to do with it.”

“Your mom isn’t exactly the picture of—”

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Kara. Okay? I’m happy for Alex. I hope things work out for her.”

Kara wanted to argue, but Lena’s shoulders were tense and she knew if she said one more word on the topic, Lena would up and leave. So she just sighed.

“So. About the writing class I want to take…when do you think you can fit it into your schedule?”

(She didn’t need Lena’s relieved smile to know she’d made the right choice.)

x

She met Mike through Winn at the end of her junior year, and she cursed him everyday for it.

“For the tenth time, no Mike, I don’t want to go out with you,” Kara hissed the moment Mike stepped into her space, his eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. He looked surprised by her anger, which only served to piss her off more.

She came out to drink with her sister and friends, not spend an hour trying to shrug off Mike.

“Whoa, I wasn’t going to ask you out,” he defended, holding up his hands. He smiled at her and she hated—hated—that he seemed vaguely charming in that moment. Then he opened his mouth. “Look, I’m a prick. I know it. You know it. But I’m a prick that knows a lost cause when I see one. I give up.”

“It took you ten tries to realize it was a lost cause?” she huffed out sarcastically.

“Nope,” he told her, drawing out the pop. “It took meeting Lena Luthor once. So?”

“So what?”

“Ah, avoidance strategies. I know them well.” He grinned and motioned at the seat next to her, actually waiting until she made a vague sign that he could sit. “I know all about unrequited love Kara Danvers, and if that’s what’s holding you back, you shouldn’t worry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kara bit out, not at all in the mood to carry on a conversation anymore. Mike didn’t seem at all bothered by her annoyance. If anything, he seemed strangely…fond? Endeared at the very least, something that made Kara’s stomach churn uncomfortably.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you already know,” he began, giving her a look and a wink when Kara couldn’t help but briefly glance at where she knew Lena was standing, deep in conversation with Winn about one of their classes. “But I do want to offer my help.”

“Your help? Why would I need your help?”

“I know a few things about love,” Mike said, wiggling his eyebrows and making Kara want to gag. “And I know for a fact that nothing makes you more attractive than when people think you’re…forbidden fruit, shall I say.”

“That sounds stupid,” Kara said flatly, rolling her eyes and refocusing on her drink. Mike, however, didn’t seem to recognize her body language as the dismissal it was.

“Trust me, Kara. Make her jealous, make her think she can’t have you, and she’ll be running right into the palm of your hands.”

“And let me guess, you volunteer to pretend to date me.”

Mike missed her deadpan.

“It would be my honor, Kara,” he said, aiming for gallant and charming but coming off as more than a little creepy.

Kara sighed, shifting in her seat to face Mike and motioning for him to lean closer.

“Mike,” she began slowly, watching as the beginnings of a smile formed on Mike’s lips, “that is absolutely, undeniably the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It also sounds predatory.” Her hands clenched and she knew her eyes had hardened because Mike’s smile was gone, replaced by a wide-eyed look, as if he couldn’t understand her anger. “Lena’s my best friend, not some prey to be baited into dating me. So if you don’t mind, keep yourself and your lousy ideas away from me and Lena.” She gave him a harsh smile, watching in satisfaction as he nearly stumbled in his rush to get away.

It was only a minute later when Alex took the seat Mike had abandoned, a questioning look on her face.

“You look like you’re ready to punch someone,” Alex said cheerfully, attempting to defuse the tension, make Kara smile. It worked.

“He says he’s given up, that’s something.”

“Oh? Finally realized it was a lost cause?”

“Apparently Lena is too much competition for him.” It was the first time Kara ever tacitly admitted her feelings for Lena, the first time she acknowledged it aloud, and admitting it now to her sister felt a little like a rush of fresh air, clean and crisp and carefree. Alex smiled, thankfully not making a big deal of it, reaching out to squeeze Kara’s shoulder gently.

“Come on,” she said. “Maggie beat me once at pool and she’s become insufferable. You have to beat her, deflate a bit of that ego.”

“You can’t beat your own girlfriend?”

“Honestly? I think the competitiveness is cute. And she looks so happy.”

“But you want me to beat her?”

“If you do it, she won’t be upset with me.”

Kara stared at her sister for a moment, grateful and a little jealous all at once, then laughed, not for the first time, ridiculously glad for Alex Danvers.

x

Amongst their friends it was a well-known fact that Kara and Lena did not fight.

This was strange for several reasons. For one, not fighting did not mean there was any shortage of disagreements. In fact, Kara and Lena disagreed on a great deal (“No, Lena, you can’t just write off someone because of something he’s done in the past. People can change, they can choose to be better”) and were often seen in the middle of quiet, measured, and passionate debates (“I understand your position, Kara, but I can’t just ask my brother to give someone a job, it’s unethical and she’s not even in a STEM field”). For another, as their majors and hobbies and interests drew them further apart, it was always assumed that distance would crop up in their relationship, adding pressure to an already precarious situation (“Come on, Kara, how long are you just going to pine after Lena before you realize something’s got to give?”).

And yet they did not fight.

Their disagreements were just that: disagreements. More than once, Maggie commented on how easy it was for Lena and Kara to resolve their conflicts, talking through their issues within the hour it cropped up, nipping it in the bud expertly and efficiently.

(When Winn asked for their secret, Kara had laughed. “It’s simple,” she’d said, patting Winn on the shoulder. “There’s two rules: never lie and never allow issues to fester.”

“Kara, you make it sound like that’s easy,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. Lena, who was arguing with Maggie over the choice in wine—not quite willing to go another night with the cheap brand Maggie bought from the supermarket, ignoring Maggie’s protests that they all tasted the same anyway—took the time to grin over at Winn and Kara, shaking her head fondly.

“It’s not easy,” she’d informed Winn. “But it’s worth it.”

“Totally worth it,” Kara had echoed, not hearing Maggie’s mumbled get a room.)

Thus, no one was more surprised by their fight the week before Christmas than Kara and Lena.

“What do you mean you go home for Christmas?” Kara demanded, arms crossed over her chest, unable to help the hitch in her voice.

(She was angry. Never lie, she’d told Winn, turning out to be a joke.

Except no, she was hurt, and she wasn’t used to that when it came to Lena, had never looked at her and thought, ouch.)

“Come on, Kara. It’s not that big of a deal—”

“—you’ve been going home these past two years, to your mom, and you’ve been telling me you spend Christmas with Lex. Why would you lie?” Kara’s interruption didn’t go over well. Rather than respond, Lena’s lips twisted, her eyes narrowed. Kara hadn’t seen her this displeased since she’d made a B in an inorganic chemistry class.

“I don’t have to discuss every single little thing I do with you, Kara,” she finally said, and by the way her eyes widened—the way she immediately stepped forward, as if to take what she said back—she regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

(Later, Kara will wonder why the comment felt like something piercing her between the ribs, why it felt like a blow to the middle, leaving her breathless and heaving for air. She’ll wonder why it hurt so much when logically she understood that Lena didn’t need to share every detail of her life—Kara certainly didn’t, hadn’t told Lena about that balloon of emotion in her chest every time she even looked at Lena.

Later, Kara will wonder if this was what being heartbroken felt like.)

“I see,” she muttered, raising her chin and stepping back when Lena looked like she was about to reach out. “You’re right.” (She was. After all, Kara hadn’t told Lena about her feelings, feelings she shoved away, torn between it never being the right time to confess and the certainty that a confession would only serve to break them apart.) “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“Kara—”

But for the first time, Kara didn’t listen.

They didn’t talk again until they both returned to campus, at which point they both pretended the argument never happened.

(Never allow issues to fester, she’d told Winn.

Well that turned out to be a joke too.)

x

“As far as electives go, it’s not the worst,” Lena graciously conceded, attempting and failing to wink over at Kara from across the table. Alex—visiting for the weekend—snickered before pretending to choke on a potsticker when Kara glared at her. “I’ve actually learned a lot.”

“The humanities are boring, Luthor, admit it. You crave labs and the thrill of discovery and late nights with nothing but coffee, microscopes, and Jack’s suffocating cologne.”

(Kara turned her head, suddenly overly interested in the baseball game on the television, not wanting Lena—or worse, Alex—seeing her grimace.

Pfft Jack. He was…annoyingly decent and frustratingly kind. Jack was Jack and Kara didn’t question it when Lena said he’d asked her out on a date after long months spent working in the same lab, didn’t mention her late night confession back in high school, didn’t ask Lena if she was sure when she said she wanted to give him a chance.

Because Jack…he made Lena smile.)

“Go back to your formaldehyde soaked apartment, Alex,” Kara scoffed when she realized she’d been silent too long—long enough that Alex was looking at her knowingly and Lena seemed a little bit concerned. “Don’t you have slides to study?”

“I take a break from studying for you and this is how I’m treated?” Alex said in mock offense, leaning back exaggeratedly and placing a hand over her heart. “I’ll have you know, medical school is no joke.”

“Then go back, I’m sure all your professors are missing you,” Kara muttered, dragging her finger through the condensation that had gathered on her glass. She flicked the water over at Alex, narrowing her eyes when it just made her sister grin.

“You could’ve stuck with physics, you know. No one forced you to change your major.” Except, judging from Alex’s eyes and the uptick of her right eyebrow, that wasn’t what she was saying at all. It was more like you could tell Lena and put yourself out of your misery or maybe something like stop moping already and eat the last potsticker.

“I like my major,” Kara said, leaning back in her chair. And judging from Alex’s resigned expression, she’d read that to mean stop meddling in my life.

“I hate it when the two of you have your silent conversations,” Lena said suddenly, pulling Kara and Alex out of their stare off. “You’re not as sneaky as you like to think. There’s too much eyebrow wiggling and sighing.”

“You sound jealous, Luthor,” Alex said cheerfully. “Don’t worry, Kara likes you too.”

“That wasn’t what I—”

“—speaking of electives,” Kara interrupted, already tired of Lena and Alex’s faux arguing, a habit they’d formed since Alex went off to medical school and Lena asked Lex to push LuthorCorp towards investing more in biomedical engineering. “I have to go rewrite my story.”

“Yeah, I still don’t get that. Why are you rewriting your assignment?”

“Kara decided our professor was wrong in assigning the prompt in the first place. But with the threat of a failing grade looming over her head, she’s finally willing to see reason,” Lena explained, smiling over at Kara fondly, apparently terribly amused by Kara’s show of protest.

Alex, clearly deciding that today was the day she wanted to settle once and for all who knew Kara best, just raised an eyebrow and looked steadily at Kara.

“What was the prompt?” she asked softly, like she knew, without having any of the details, exactly what was twisting in Kara’s chest and why she was willing to nearly fail—why she’d rather fail.

“We’re supposed to write something that ends tragically. It’s supposed to be a homage to naturalism.”

“That’s not quite the prompt, Kara, you’re—”

“—so we weren’t supposed to have a unhappy ending for our characters?” Kara said, cutting Lena off more harshly than she intended. She turned away from Lena’s hurt expression and focused on Alex, unable to meet her sister’s eyes.

“Oh, Kara,” she said after a moment. “It’s just a story.”

“That’s not the point, Alex,” Kara said, arms crossed over her chest. She knew Alex was getting so much more from that one comment, reading in-between the lines and understanding just how deep it went.

“I know,” Alex said, and it broke Kara’s heart because Lena just seemed confused—when normally, she was the first to notice something was wrong.

x

James Olsen was…gosh, he was James Olsen.

He was kind and generous and brave and he dragged Clark right back into her life, and when he spoke Kara thought her knees would give way because gosh he was James Olsen.

He was sweet and passionate and could make her laugh with ease, and he was late for work the day they met because apparently she made the bestcoffee he’d ever had and he couldn’t believe his best friend’s cousin worked at the café down the street for nearly a month without his knowing.

“It’s fate,” he said, grinning as he tossed several twenties into the tip jar, much to the glee of Kara’s coworkers. “I’ll see you later, Kara,” he added and made it sound charming and not creepy like Kara was used to (because it was a question, a request, made confidently and kindly, with all the promise of respecting her wishes and boundaries).

(And Clark was grinning next to him, his eyes sad as he looked at her but the hint of a promise on his lips, a whisper of things changing as he murmured a quick and awkward goodbye.

Clark, who left her. Clark, who was back again thanks to James Olsen.)

James Olsen…James Olsen made her heart flutter, made her stomach fill with butterflies, made her feel heard and respected and important. He took her around Metropolis, on his daily attempts to snap a quick picture of whatever caught his interest, telling her all about what it was like working with Clark and Lois and Perry White—telling her about the Daily Planet and finding a home behind the lens of his camera. He spoke of his father, of his admiration for all those who gave everything to help others, his hope that one day he could do the same.

And Kara…she told him about Alex, about missing Clark sometimes even if she was still furious that he left her behind, she told him about her parents and the lab her father worked in, the cases her mother poured over at nights pausing long enough only to make sure to tuck her in. She told him about how she’d wanted to follow her parents’ footsteps, wanted to help people, wanted to do something important with her life.

She told him about her Aunt Astra—how she wanted to see her again, wanted to find out why she did what she did, if she regretted her actions, if she felt guilty that she ruined Kara’s life.

She told him about Eliza and Jeremiah and how much she loved them.

She told him about moving to Metropolis and how she’d imagined it would be the next big adventure, that coming here would change everything—help her find her place.

She did not tell him about Lena.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t admit that Lena had a permanent place next to Alex in her heart, couldn’t tell James that Lena was a constant before and after her parents—a grounding point, an anchor. She couldn’t confess that Lena held her hand throughout all her anger at Clark, all her mixed feelings over her Aunt Astra, didn’t even know how to say that Lena was her family as much as Eliza and Jeremiah.

She didn’t even say that the move to Metropolis was for Lena, for them to remain together in some way even while she was off rising in the ranks in her brother’s company. She…she couldn’t even begin to verbalize what it felt like to watch Lena slip away, for their daily lunches and texts to dwindle down to nothing in weeks, for Kara to hear Lena apologetically say she just didn’t have the time to come to game night, even if Alex had gone out of her way to visit.

Kara told James about every big thing in her life, but she couldn’t talk about the biggest, and when she kissed him for the first time—the night he brought her Chinese and ice cream to cheer her up after she’d texted him to say that she hadn’t gotten the job at the Daily Planet like she wanted—she couldn’t help but think that it wouldn’t be right if she fell for him because she was rather sure Lena’s shadow would always hang over her.

But James was James, and when he kissed her back, she fell anyway.

x

It took months before Lena met James.

(It wasn’t weird that her best friend didn’t seem all that interested in meeting her boyfriend. It wasn’t strange that Winn took more interest in her love life than Lena, her best friend. It didn’t bother Kara at all that Alex flew in and spent a day with Kara and James before Lena even acknowledged that Kara had a boyfriend.

She was busy. Kara understood.)

Her tiny apartment—that she was barely able to afford with her meager salary from the café and the few random freelance articles she’d written—was full to the brim with only a handful of people. James was busy grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard, chatting with Winn as he did so, discussing an article Clark had written with Lois. Lena and Alex were on the couch, arguing over bioethics concerns coupled with the rapid advancement in medicine. Kara leaned against the doorway, watching them for a moment, smiling at Alex’s impassioned speech for more regulation as well as Lena’s counterpoints that innovation could never be curbed.

It was nice, this moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to witness Lena and Alex’s arguing, both of them throwing around words that eventually went over Kara’s head—even if she’d studied the sciences in college. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten to see Lena’s wide smile.

Kara stiffened at the thought, at the longing she felt, and with a guilty glance back at James, she shuffled over to the window, opening it as far as it would go, and climbing through it, dropping down onto the metal fire escape. The cool night air calmed her somewhat, but not as much as the sounds of honking cars and indecipherable voices, the rattle of a train somewhere in the distance, the sound of music coming from one of the lower apartments.

“Oh, there you are,” James said, sticking his head out of the window and smiling. It was charming and cute and he was so perfect for her. She loved him so much. “I was wondering where you went off to, and there aren’t a lot of hiding placing in your apartment.” He smiled wider at his little joke, joining her on the fire escape, looking down at her like he always did: like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And Kara wondered if she was somehow broken, because she deserved this, she did. She deserved someone who would always be with her and always take her needs and wants into account. And yet…yet all she could think about was how James deserved better than her—that he offered more than she ever could, and she’d dragged him far enough behind her for it to be cruel and wrong.

“James, I—” She stopped when he shook his head, still smiling and still looking at her like she was the most important thing he’d ever seen, even as his eyes filled with understanding and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

“It’s Lena, isn’t it?” he asked, no real bitterness in his tone, just quiet acceptance. “I guessed, you know? From the start,” he explained, chuckling mirthlessly at her look of shock, leaning against the railing and turning to look up at the sky. “You avoided talking about her so much I knew you either hated her or loved her, and I don’t think you’re capable of hate. But I was sure when I saw you look at her tonight.”

“She’s my best friend,” Kara said haltingly, wanting to hug James or lean into his warmth or use his shoulder to steady herself, knowing that none of those things were appropriate anymore. “I thought I just needed—I thought if I…I don’t know what I thought.” She was quiet for a moment, choosing to look through the window and watch Winn join Alex and Lena’s debate, Winn saying something that made them all laugh. “Is it really so obvious?”

“For someone who’s looking for it? Yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” James told her, knocking his shoulder lightly with hers, prompting her to look at him. “You know, she feels the same way.”

No, Kara didn’t know, barely considered the possibility. But her heart thumped at the very thought.

“Even if she did, she’s…I don’t think she has the time for a relationship.”

“She’s your best friend, Kara,” James said, accepting her point easily. “If anyone knows her it’s you.”

She nodded, but boy, Kara didn’t think that was true anymore.

“Do you think that job in National City is still open?” she asked suddenly, avoiding his eyes when she noticed concern begin to flood his features.

“Kara,” he began, “I don’t know if running away is the answer.”

“It’s not running away. I’m—I thought I’d find something here. I thought being closer to Clark, being in Metropolis would help me find what I’m looking for. But it wasn’t. And Alex is in National City,” she tacked on at the end, as if it would settle the issue. In many ways it did though, and James knew it.

“It’s still running away,” he told her softly, not really arguing but just pointing out a truth. “If she’s your best friend, what are you so afraid of?”

(And oh leave it to James to get to the heart of the issue, to look at her and understand and not let her get away with deflections and excuses like Alex tended to. She was afraid. Of what, Kara wasn’t quite sure. Maybe that Lena wouldn’t feel the same way. Maybe that it would change something between them. Maybe that it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back and Lena’s flimsy presence in her life would disappear entirely.

Maybe it was just that every time Kara wanted to confess, she thought about how Lena didn’t believe in love at all and it broke her heart.)

“Are you upset with me?” Kara asked weakly instead of answering James, and though he gave her a look that clearly said he knew what she was doing, he indulged her anyway.

“No,” he answered, having paused long enough that Kara knew he’d put real thought into it, had searched his feelings for any hint of anger or bitterness, a slight tinge of surprise in his voice when he found none. “No, I knew what I was getting into, even if I hoped I was wrong. So it’s not like you led me on or anything.”

“I’m so sorry, James.”

“Don’t be,” he said, waving her off, his voice slightly gruff—like he was holding back some sort of emotion. “Can I just—would it be weird to ask one thing?” When she shook her head, James cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “If you met me before her, if you’d never met her at all—” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a firm shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a moment. “What ifs don’t matter.”

Kara studied him sadly, from the stiffness of his shoulders to the fixed smile on his lips, and she felt something in her break.

“Can we—can we just stay out here for a while?” she asked in a low voice, knowing that returning inside would make this all real, all permanent, would mean that there would never be any going back. And James—soft, kind, generous, and gentle—gave her a real smile before wrapping and arm around her shoulders and tugging her closer to him, his warmth shielding her from the nip of the night air, his presence as sturdy and strong as ever.

“However long you need, Kara,” he whispered into her hair.

And they stayed out there for what felt like ages before Alex came to collect them, brows furrowed and expression concerned.

x

She was still on her phone as she sat down across from Kara at the café she’d chosen—a fancy place Kara normally would never have stepped in under her own volition—but before Kara had the chance to feel annoyed, she shoved the phone away and smiled brilliantly at her, and things were fine again.

Until she spoke, at least.

“Kara! It’s been so long, I am so sorry, things at work just got—”

“I know, Lena. Lex put you in charge of R&D, that’s huge.”

(She tried not to sound bitter, but she was rather sure she mostly failed because Lena was looking at her oddly, hurt at Kara’s tone. But the thing was, Kara was furious. She only found out about Lena’s promotion through Clark and an article he’d written about LuthorCorp. Even worse, when he’d asked if she could get into contact with Lena and see if she would be willing to sit down for an interview—something that might’ve made Perry White see reason and give her another chance for an entry-level job at the Daily Planet—she’d gotten nothing in reply. Not even a text back.

She remembered a time when they couldn’t go two days without talking. Now they were going months without a single word between them.)

“Kara, are you—”

“I have news of my own,” Kara interrupted, smiling wide and knowing it likely seemed forced, knowing because it felt forced. “It’s why I was so insistent we get coffee.”

“Oh?” Lena asked, giving Kara that smirk she loved so much. “Did you get that job at the Tribune you wanted?”

Kara blinked.

“No. No, they turned me down nearly a year ago.” It had been one of the first jobs she’d applied to upon arriving at Metropolis. And though she’d thought Lena had been the one to bring her potstickers to cheer her up, she now realized that had been Clark and Lois, the two of them cheerfully tearing down everyone at the Tribune just to make her laugh.

(Had she just inserted Lena into her memory? Imagined her there to offer comfort because Lena had always been there before? Was she sick? She was rather sure there was an entire season of Grey’s Anatomy devoted to Izzie seeing things.)

“Oh,” Lena muttered, looking as shocked as Kara felt.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kara hastened to say, both not liking the look on Lena’s face or the dark path her thoughts were winding down.

“Isn’t it though? The next thing you’ll tell me is you married James.”

She was going for a joke, Kara knew that. But boy, did the comment hit her like a truck. For a moment, she could barely breathe.

“Actually,” she struggled to say, “we broke up a few months ago.”

“Kara,” Lena said, eyes now so wide that it was comical. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kara let out a loud and undignified laugh, but it was better than letting out the sob that threatened to break free.

“Alex said she thought you weren’t listening to your voicemails. Guess she was right.”

“I-I’ve been in the lab,” Lena stuttered through her shock. “I didn’t realize—I’ve been—Kara, I’m so—”

“It’s fine,” Kara stressed, waving off Lena’s pleas and smiling at her. “That’s not why I asked you to coffee either. You see, I did get a better job—”

“—that’s amazing, Kara, I had every confidence you would, you’ll make a wonderful reporter—”

“—as Cat Grant’s personal assistant,” Kara finished, speaking over Lena.

“Sorry, what?”

“Apparently Ms. Grant has gone through four assistants in four months. Clark and James think that if I can hold the job for a few years, I could move up. Get a job as a writer for Ms. Grant’s magazine.”

“That’s hardly hard-hitting journalism, Kara, it’s not what you wanted—”

“—no, but I have to be realistic. Perry White was never going to give me a job. CatCo might.”

“It’s in National City,” Lena pointed out suddenly, as if this would put an end to whatever argument they were having.

“I know. That was my second bit of news, actually.” She paused for effect. “I’m moving!”

Lena didn’t look as thrilled as Kara hoped she’d be.

“You’re what? When?”

“I’m moving,” Kara repeated, checking her watch surreptitiously. “Alex and I are making a road trip out of it. She flew in last night and we’re leaving in a few hours. She likes to drive at night.”

“You’re leaving? Tonight?” She looked hurt by that and Kara felt guilty for only a moment before her anger and frustration returned. (Never lie, never let issues fester—that was how they managed to never fight, for their arguments to get settled quickly and efficiently, without much hurt on either side. But Lena was lying and Kara was allowing issues to fester and she was rather sure the resulting implosion was inevitable. Needed, even.) “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Why don’t you ever call me back?” Kara returned flatly, getting to her feet. “You’re my best friend, Lena. You always will be. But I’m unhappy here, moving to National City is a good choice for me.”

(It felt like they were breaking up. But that was ridiculous. They hadn’t been dating in the first place.

She idly wondered why no one had ever mentioned that losing your best friend hurt worse than losing a boyfriend.

She idly wondered if her position was unique because she was losing Lena.)

Lena got to her feet as well, and for a glorious moment Kara imagined a scenario in which Lena kissed her senseless, in which she grabbed Kara’s hands and fought to make her stay, in which she swore she’d stop being so distant, so faraway even in the moments they were together. But the moment passed quickly and Kara crashed down to reality when Lena only offered her a weak smile.

“Don’t lose touch, okay?” Lena said, playing with her watch and staring at the table. She made an awkward movement, almost like she wanted to pull Kara into a hug, but stopped halfway and just remained motionless. It would almost be funny if it wasn’t just so sad.

Kara ignored the question, gathered all her courage, and placed a soft and brief kiss on Lena’s cheek.

“Bye, Lena.”

(Lena didn’t chase her down as she left the coffee shop, didn’t find her huddled in an alleyway, wiping her cheeks furiously, didn’t even come by hours later, as Kara found every excuse to delay their trip National City and Alex continued to give her pitying looks.

And by the time they were on the highway, Kara staring out her window without speaking, that goodbye felt rather permanent.)

x

She rather thought that National City was good for the soul.

It was sunny in National City, the people seemed livelier, kinder, warmer. And even if Cat Grant was in one of her terrible moods—which she was in at least once a day, usually because someone from photography and layout had messed something up—Kara could always count on sticky buns from Noonan’s to cheer her right up. (Not Cat, obviously. Cat wouldn’t touch one of those buns with a ten-foot pole. No, the sweet was for Kara.)

She had Sister Night in National City, a job she usually adored and a goal she was determined to reach, an apartment she loved, and wonderful new friends.

Kara was happy.

Really.

“Kara, I’m watching that. Stop changing the channel.”

“Why do you need to watch the news, don’t you get enough of it from Maggie?”

(Another thing National City had? A chance for Kara to witness her sister’s happiness. She’d broken things off with Maggie sometime during medical school, but had run into the newly minted detective and things had apparently just…worked out. Alex was smiling all the time, and it was beautiful.)

“Just because you avoid everything that has to do with Lena—”

“—I don’t do that,” Kara denied, shaking her head quickly and vehemently.

“—doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do my research so that I can destroy her when she visits. She’s got to know her brother’s company does more harm than good.”

“Do you talk to her?” Kara found herself asking despite herself. It was stupid. She knew it would just hurt if Alex said yes and bum her out if Alex said no. It was a no-win situation and she hated herself for it.

“Only when she visits. And you know she always wants to see you too, but you keep acting surly.”

“Sorry if I expect my best friend to care about me more often than only when she’s in National City to oversee something at a branch of LuthorCorp.”

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Alex said happily, turning the television off once she noticed Kara’s grimace. “She’s your best friend.”

“She didn’t come after me.”

“You know she can’t run in heels,” Alex joked, and Kara struggled to keep her impassive expression, “that’s not her fault.”

“She hasn’t tried reaching out.”

“Because you’ve shut her out,” Alex countered, referring to the almost weekly trips Lena made to National City the first month after Kara moved. Each time, Kara had said she was busy with work and couldn’t get away, and Lena would leave with only a text goodbye.

And then those had stopped too, the visits. The calls and the texts became rare enough that it was almost as if they had stopped.

At times, Kara thought if it weren’t for the occasional press conferences Lena gave in her brother’s place, she wouldn’t have even known Lena was healthy and happy.

“Come on, Kara,” Alex continued, “you’re older than her, you’ve got to be the mature one.”

“I’m only older by three months!” Kara huffed, throwing herself onto the couch and staring hard at the ceiling. “Besides, distance is good. Great, even. More than necessary. We were too dependent on each other.”

“Right, and my hair is green,” Alex deadpanned, leaning over Kara and shaking her hair in Kara’s face, as if to show off her auburn locks. “For two smart people, you’re both being really stupid.”

“You’re being really mean. Like Ms. Grant mean, and that’s just sad, Alex.”

“Shut up and move over, if you’re not going to let me watch the news, you might as well put on a movie.”

Kara did as she was told, only half-heartedly listening to Alex’s running commentary on the film she’d put on, finally breaking after half an hour—much to Alex’s very obvious amusement.

“I miss her,” Kara admitted in a soft voice.

Alex’s expression fell, and she pulled Kara into a hug.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, voice full of something Kara couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Have you tried drawing her and puppies to feel better?”

“No ice cream for you,” Kara muttered while Alex apologized for her joke, but she was hiding a smile in Alex’s shoulder, so she supposed her sister wasn’t very sorry at all.  

x

She’d begun to think something might be wrong when the name ‘Luthor’ appeared in the news more often than normal.

The family was always in some way making news. Whether it was funding research for a cure to a rare disease or a shady business deal with a foreign company, LuthorCorp and by extension the three Luthors in charge, was consistently in the public eye. It wasn’t always good, but it was never obviously bad, either.

Until, however, Lex seemed to go off the rails entirely.

It started slow, slow enough that at first Kara didn’t even notice in between watching news clips while waiting for Ms. Grant’s coffee. There was an odd article about abnormal contracts with weapon manufacturers. Then, there was a report or two about odd—if not outright strange—transactions with certain individuals that any wise businessman wouldn’t touch.

About a year after Kara moved to National City, the Daily Planet published an explosive article that LuthorCorp was secretly funding a weapon production program and selling said weapons to various third parties.

Six months after that, Lex was arrested on a vast array of charges, Lillian Luthor stepped away from the company, and Lena was named CEO and took on the brunt of the backlash as LuthorCorp basically went up in flames.

And for the first time in about eight months, Kara heard from Lena:

Clark did all the legwork for the article.

And well, Kara was quite familiar with the sensation of her family members destroying things she loved, and it didn’t come as a shock at all.

x

Kara eyed her new office apprehensively, leaning against the far wall and staring at her empty desk with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She was thrilled, she was, she’d been eyeing a job like this since she arrived in National City, but now that she had it….

It was a little anticlimactic. She’d called Alex and her sister had been appropriately overjoyed for her, as were Eliza and Jeremiah, and yet something felt missing. Something felt wrong.

(She stared at her phone, at the news notifications about LuthorCorp’s move to National City and their planned rebranding, and she tried to pretend that had nothing to do with how she felt at this moment.

She tried and she failed.)

“Ready for lunch?” Alex asked from behind her, eyes kindly averted, choosing to stare at her nails instead of the look of panic that quickly took over Kara’s expression when she continued scrolling through the articles and stopped at what must have been the most recent photo of Lena, looked ragged and annoyed as she shoved her way past reporters to get into her building here in National City.

The caption below the photo wasn’t flattering.

“Have you seen her yet?” Kara asked, knowing Maggie was waiting for them at some vegan restaurant, wanting to celebrate Kara’s promotion. Alex continued to stare at her nails and Kara continued to think that was rather kind of her.

“Why? Will my answer change what you plan on doing?”

“What do you think I’m planning on doing?”

“Honestly?” Alex asked, finally looking up and eyeing Kara critically. “I think you’re going to keep pretending you’re not missing her.” She hooked her arm through Kara’s and dragged her out of the empty office, pulling her towards the elevators. “When you wanted to leave Metropolis, I was glad. I hated seeing you waste your life away in a coffee shop just because you wanted to be near Lena.” As the elevator doors slid shut, Alex leaned heavily into Kara’s side, head resting on her shoulder. “You were right. You did need to learn to live your own separate life from Lena, but now that you have, just go see your best friend. She needs you.”

“What about the vegan restaurant? Maggie is waiting,” Kara protested, resisting weakly when Alex tugged her into CatCo’s lobby and then out into the street. “We were going to celebrate.”

“Don’t act like you’re not excited to miss out on this restaurant,” Alex said with a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to Kara’s cheek, a halfhearted attempt to make sure there were no hard feelings between them. “Go home, Kara. Think about what you’re planning. Then go see Lena.” Then, without giving Kara a chance to argue, Alex shoved her lightly in the direction of her apartment and then turned on her heel, walking briskly away in the opposite direction.

And Kara went home, fully intending to drown all her doubts and sorrows in a pint (or two) of ice cream.

Or at least, what was what she intended. She never really got the chance; by the time she’d changed into her comfort pajamas, a thick blanket thrown over her shoulders, and was digging through her freezer for that ‘rainy day’ ice cream, there was a knock on her door. Grumbling and annoyed, because of course Alex wouldn’t trust her enough to believe she would actually listen to her sister’s advice (for good reason, she supposed, considering her current state), Kara practically stalked towards her door, throwing it open with more force than necessary, eyes pressed tightly shut.

“Alex, you need to let me have my night to mope, can’t your lecture wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m sorry,” said someone with a voice that decidedly didn’t belong to Alex. “It’s a bad time, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come.”

Kara’s eyes flew open, and before her visitor had the chance to step back, Kara had reached out for a hug—it was instinct, it was habit, it was just what she did. And when she got her hug back, mismatched edges seemed to finally slot into place, and Kara felt like she could breathe again.

“It’s always a good time for you,” Kara said into Lena’s ear, unable to help her wide grin.

x

“Come on, Lena. Feel the burn! Enjoy the burn! If it hurts, that’s how you know it’s working!” Kara called over to Lena, watching her struggle with mild amusement. She’d suggested morning jogs as a joke initially, but Lena had taken to the idea with surprising eagerness, something Kara was rather sure she regretted now, in between all the heaving breaths and the sweaty hair. She wondered if Lena still thought it was a good way for them to rebuild their friendship.

“I…can’t…believe…” Lena managed to say between gasps, bending over with her hands on her knees and head practically in her chest. “…people…do this for…fun.”

“I could carry you on the way back if you like.”

“This isn’t a joke, Kara,” Lena said, looking over at her with narrowed eyes. “You killed me. I’m dead. Say goodbye to the last sane Luthor, please don’t let my obituary be too embarrassing.” She straightened as she spoke, stretching out her back and arms and Kara was a little bit distracted to immediately respond.

“Don’t say that,” she finally found the voice to admonish. “Of course your obituary will be embarrassing. I’ll write about the time we snuck into the art room to fix an assignment you’d already made a perfect on.”

“I didn’t know it’d already been graded, Kara,” Lena said, not looking particularly glad that this had been brought up. Kara wondered if she remembered the way they’d giggled as they escaped the school building, tangling pinkies and swearing they’d never bring it up again. “It was ugly, what sort of person gives perfect marks on something so ugly?”

“Well, I thought you were adorable,” Kara said without thinking, grimacing as she registered her own words, “I mean—not adorable, but um, adorably criminal.”

“It was my Luthor genes shining through,” Lena joked, winking when Kara rolled her eyes. “I’m ready to go now, you don’t have to go so slow because of me,” she added when Kara jogged in place, staring out into the park—looking at the couple walking their dog and the old woman sitting on a bench reading the newspaper. Kara laughed, listening to Lena’s heavy breathing, and shook her head.

“Oh shucks, look at that, my shoes are untied,” Kara said in mock surprise, leaning down and untying her shoelaces before taking her time to tie them up again. She took extra care in making sure everything was tight, going as far as to untie and retie her right shoe—just in case. And when she looked back up, Lena was staring at her with a mix of fondness and confusion.

“Back in Metropolis,” she began.

“Lena, I don’t—”

“—I avoided you. I wasn’t working all the time, I could’ve seen you more often but I…” she trailed off, frowning. “And I didn’t realize how much that could hurt until you avoided me. When you left. And I’m sorry.”

“Why were you avoiding me?”

Lena blinked, looking like she hadn’t expected the question, but surely she should have. She’d brought it up, she made it a point to apologize. Of course Kara would want more explanation.

“How about a race?” Lena suggested, ignoring Kara’s question completely. “First one to the gate gets to choose breakfast?”

Kara’s grin was her only reply.

(Needless to say, she won the race. They ended up with sticky buns and coffee from Noonan’s, Kara regaling Lena with horror stories about needing pick-me-ups at all hours, depending on Cat Grant’s mood.

And the entire time her thoughts were a million miles away, wondering what would make Lena avoid her in the first place.)

x

“You know,” Lena said in between mouthfuls of pizza, “I never thought I’d say this, but reporters aren’t so bad.” She took a sip of her wine—the charm and sophistication of the action lost on Kara as Lena was drinking her wine out of a plastic cup—and smiled benignly. “There’s even one reporter I’d go as far as to say I like.”

“Oh really? Let me guess. She’s a dazzling cub reporter at CatCo. Golden hair, dazzling blue eyes, impeccable fashion taste?” Kara asked, grinning and pointing at herself exaggeratedly, not quite appreciating Alex’s snort or Maggie’s not-so-subtle shake of her head. She opened her mouth to tell off her sister and her sister’s girlfriend, but before she could, Lena smiled softly and derailed all of Kara’s thought processes.

“Well, I was going to say Lois Lane, but yes, you’re a close second.”

“A—a close second? To Lois?” Kara spluttered indignantly, mouth falling open in offense. “Was she the one to write stories about the phoenix-like rebirth of L-Corp and the CEO that spearheaded its rise? No. That was me. All me.”

“But that corruption article—” Lena said, not even bothering to hide her laughter as Kara stared at her in betrayal. “I’m joking,” she said when Kara went as far as to push her plate of pizza away, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. Alex snorted again. “Your articles are wonderful, I’m so grateful for them, Kara.”

“I didn’t write them as a favor,” Kara mumbled, turning her head and glaring at Alex, daring her to let out another snort. “I wrote them because it’s the truth. You rebuilt LuthorCorp from the ground up. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Ugh,” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in the air. “Come on, Maggie, that’s our cue to leave. They’re going to be gross again. Compliments thrown back and forth, no you hang up first,” she tacked on in an affected voice.

“You don’t give me any compliments,” Maggie said, almost petulantly, while Kara found herself unable to do much more than open and close her mouth repeatedly, no response ready on her lips.

“Shh, Maggie, it’s okay. It’s their foreplay.” Alex grabbed her girlfriend’s hand and dragged her out of the apartment, leaving Kara and Lena alone at the table.

“So,” Lena said, sipping calmly from her plastic cup of wine, “when do you think Alex will remember this is her apartment?”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m going to steal all her vinyls.” She paused her plotting and stared at Lena thoughtfully. “Is Lois really your favorite reporter?”

“Of course not,” Lena scoffed, waving a hand, as charming, clever, and confident at twenty-eight as she’d been at eight years old, merely amplified by the years that had passed, still managing to leave Kara in awe with nothing but a smile. “You’re always my favorite, Kara. In everything.” The words brought her heart to a thudding stop. Her eyes were fixed on Lena’s lips.

(She was going to do it. She was going to stand and lean in, she was going to settle that voice in her head and that thrumming in her chest once and for all. She would know, know for sure how Lena felt, all she had to do was be brave in this single moment—gather all her courage and ask onesimple question, hope to whatever was out there that Lena would nod, would say yes, would dispel of words entirely and close the distance between them.

She was going to do it, she was going to do it.)

The door swung back open and Kara was rooted to her seat.

“Can you believe Alex forgot this was her apartment?” Maggie laughed as she approached the table, frowning as she took in Kara’s face and then Lena’s. “Are you two okay? You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“F-fine,” Kara stammered, tearing her eyes away from Lena’s lips and forcing a smile. “I just said I was going to steal all of Alex’s vinyls.”

“I heard that!” Alex called from the door, letting it swing shut behind her. “But you know, if you do manage to pull it off, it might even outdo the roof thing. But nothing can top the Paint Incident,” she tacked on dreamily.

Maggie and Lena laughed, familiar with both stories, and Kara sighed, unable to help it when her gaze flicked briefly over to Lena.

She felt her courage fade, felt the moment slip past her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but sigh. But when she did, it wasn’t Alex who looked at her quizzically and in worry. She was too busy rolling her eyes at something Maggie was saying. Instead, it was Lena who looked at her in concern, eyes wide and pleading—wordlessly asking if she was okay, back in sync for the first time in years.

(At the very thought, Kara felt much of that courage race right back.)

x

It was very late or very early, Kara wasn’t quite sure which, and she and Lena were lounging on the couch in Lena’s office, leaning heavily on each other, Lena’s work long forgotten. It’d been quite some time that they’d had nights (mornings?) like this, Lena calling her because she felt her world spiraling, and Kara the only one who could stop the spinning for even a moment. Sometimes there were tears, more often there was total silence, Lena tightly grasping her hand until Kara couldn’t feel her fingers anymore.

This morning (last night?), Lena had just buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, not saying a word for hours as Kara rubbed her back and muttered nonsense under her breath just hoping to ease whatever Lena was dealing with this time.

“Do you remember Jack?” Lena asked suddenly, bringing up her ill-fated whirlwind romance from their last year in college without prompting. Kara nodded hesitantly, wincing a little internally as she thought about all the anger she’d directed towards such a perfectly decent guy, wondering if she should call him up one day and apologize—admit she’d been jealous and she’d really had nothing against him. Then again, to admit that to Jack would mean she’d first have to admit those feelings to Lena, and she wasn’t quite sure if that would ever happen—at least, if her track record was any indication. “I really wanted things to work out with him. Thought if I could focus on him and my studies, I could forget about everything else.”

Kara’s breath hitched and she swallowed hard. Admittedly, it hurt to hear Lena say something like that. Because around that same time, Kara was feeling lost, had needed her best friend, and had been left unmoored and aimlessly floating away from shore in Lena’s absence. It hurt to hear that Lena’s distance had been intentional.

“Okay.”

“Are you going to ask why?”

“Would you answer?”

“I don’t know,” Lena admitted softly, tucking her head more comfortably under Kara’s chin.

“Why did you lie about where you were going for Christmas?” Kara asked instead, voice barely a whisper, unsure even now if she should bring it up. Lena stiffened slightly, then inhaled deeply, relaxing just as suddenly.

“My mother told me she wanted to make up, start over. She told me she knew she strained our relationship and wanted to fix it.”

“Did she?”

“No. As it turned out, she just wanted me to spy on Lex for her.” Lena cleared her throat and pulled away from Kara, shifting so that she was sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Besides, after working at LuthorCorp for a few months after graduation, it was obvious Lex was up to something, and it was obvious she was trying to hide his mess for him. She was just trying to use me as a pawn—I was disposable, you see.”

“You’re not disposable,” Kara immediately argued, not sure if she liked the way Lena laughed in response—like she found the comment inherently flawed, but couldn’t bring herself to explain just how wrong Kara was.

“I’m not sad, Kara,” Lena explained gently, shrugging when Kara looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not.” She shrugged again, seemingly not caring that Kara had been rendered speechless. “I’ve known what my mother is my whole life.” Her head tilted to the side, and she studied Kara so intently for a moment that Kara was sure she was reading every single secret Kara had buried away deep in her heart for safekeeping. “But then you just waltzed in one afternoon and forced my dad to take a stand.” She reached out and took Kara’s hand, squeezing tightly, eyes showing no hint of melancholy. And it was a beautiful sight. “I’m not sad, because whatever my mom has done, I’ve always known I had you.” She smiled then, something changing in her expression, something Kara sometimes saw in her own reflection. “You saved me from the day I met you. But it wasn’t till that afternoon that I realized you were my hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just…me.”

“You’re my hero,” Lena said, grinning when Kara gave her another disbelieving look, finding it difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart, though she was giving it a valiant attempt. “Can I ask a question now?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you leave Metropolis?”

(And oh Kara felt her courage fail her at this critical moment. She felt it escape her in a flood, a mass exodus of bravery in the face of such overwhelmingly terrifying prospects. Because an admission could lead to reciprocation. It could lead to a moment she’d imagined again and again and again. Or it could lead to horrifying and awkward rejection, a friendship she treasured and missed dearly when it was out of reach—when it felt shattered beyond repair—becoming lost forever.

And oh Kara stared at Lena and she found she’d brave any enemy, any storm, any short, grubby, sniffling bully if only it meant she’d have a chance to keep Lena in her life.)

“It’s hard to get over someone when they’re in the same city as you,” she found herself saying, a non-answer that she thought said entirely too much. (Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“You and James were really good for each other,” Lena nodded, and it was the way she looked at the ground, the way she released Kara’s hand, the way she swallowed, the way her eyes grew sad that Kara finally, finally, saw what Alex had seen, what James had seen, what even gross Mike had seen. “It makes sense that he’s hard to get over,” Lena added, a pinched expression on her face, one that Kara caught even if most of Lena head was turned away.

(Be brave, she thought. Be brave.)

“Actually, Lena,” Kara began slowly, heart racing, “I wasn’t talking about James.” Lena turned to her in shock, eyes wide, and of course Kara began to ramble, stomach swooping up and down and feeling as if the blood rushing through her veins was on fire. “He was wonderful. He is wonderful, I mean. But he’s not wonderful for me. Does that make sense? I mean, he’s perfect. But it’s really hard to love someone the right way when you’re in love with someone else and I—”

“I was jealous of James!” Lena blurted, apparently quite surprised by her own interruption. “I couldn’t—I didn’t want to hear about him. I’d be jealous of anyone you were with. So I avoided you, because I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t know if I could hide how I felt—”

“—I hated Jack,” Kara confessed. “And that girl from France, the one you met before we started college, I hated her on principle, and James told me I’m not capable of hate, but they had you and I hated them and—”

Lena interrupted her again, this time by grabbing her face and pulling her forward, her lips on Kara’s making it quite difficult to talk at all. It was awkward and needy and full of a pent-up sort of want and it made Kara’s head spin, it fried all her nerves, it left her permanently incapable of any sort of rational thought. Because Lena—her best friend, Lena—was kissing her.

“Wait, wait,” Kara said suddenly, pulling away from Lena’s kisses, unable to help her smile at Lena’s groan, “so are you anti-love?” Lena’s eyes, which had been closed, opened lazily, and she blinked at Kara in confusion, seemingly unsure what they were talking about. “You said you didn’t believe in love,” Kara elaborated, feeling her ears heat up because as far as she knew, she’d admitted she loved Lena, but Lena had just admitted feelings, and what if she was making a fool of herself, reading too much into one kiss—even if said kiss was as singularly mind-blowing as Lena’s?

“I was nineteen,” Lena admitted softly, and she reached out with a hesitant hand, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Kara’s face and then cupping her cheek, thumb rubbing idle patterns into her skin. Kara felt rather than directed her eyes to flutter shut, felt rather than directed her head to lean into Lena’s hand. “I was bitter because I’d fallen for my best friend and I didn’t think she’d ever feel the same way.”

“So not temporary and finicky?”

“Not in my experience, no.”

“You know, if you hadn’t said that, if you’d just waited ten seconds, I was going to tell you how I felt that day.”

Lena didn’t answer for so long that Kara opened her eyes, only to be met with impossibly soft eyes.

“That’s okay,” Lena said finally, leaning forward to press her forehead against Kara’s. “I sort of like how our story ended up anyway.” And when Lena closed the last of the distance between them, pulling Kara into another kiss (being brave never felt so good), Kara couldn’t help but agree.

x

The next time they all got together, Kara and Lena were holding hands and sneaking not-so-sneaky kisses and gazing adoringly at each other, and upon seeing it, Alex first pretended to gag before she laughed uproariously, demanded champagne in celebration, and told anyone who’d listen that she’d called it from the day she found out that Kara alternated her time between drawing puppies and Lena.

[mantra4ia]

Desires: Lucifer season 5 on Netflix

Created: August 21, 2020. Last Modified: August 22, 2020.

Preface: Alright my Lucis, here’s the sitch: it’s been a minute. Life got a bit chaotic I wasn’t able to start season five quite on time when it premiered on August 21st because I haven’t finished the great 2020 Lucifer rewatch. I’m nearly done however and should be able to jump into it either later today or tomorrow, which is why beforehand I want to — as I’ve traditionally done for a few seasons — create a desires list and keep a tally throughout the season to see how many are met. I am going to try to pace myself, not binge, and watch a single episode a day so don’t spoil me. Likewise I will tag my spoilers. Here we go... #21DaysofLucifer

Season 3 and 4 Roundout - Desires Fulfilled / Questions Answered

✔We’ve seen other demons “like Maze” and a bit of what havoc they can reek. Well sort of. To be quite frank, although it was cool to see them possess the recently deceased, it wasn’t as impending doom as I was expecting. They didn’t seem nearly as disciplined or intimidating as Mazikeen, even Dromos, more bored and desperate.

✔ We’ve seen a little more or the heavenly host in Remiel. Remi was cool, if a bit intense. Her character, and her affinity to Amenadiel was a nice foil to see how far his character has come in evolution. But again like Uriel was for Lucifer, she kind of became a driving force character device to push Amenadiel’s growth. So I wonder if we’ll get to see more of her or not.

✔ (s3) The backstory of Lucifer’s arrival in LA, finding LUX, and making a deal with Amenadiel.

✔ (s3) Cain finally went to hell, YES! Not that I didn’t like Marcus Pierce/Tom Welling, there were some great interactions there, but I just think he was a wishy-washy antagonist based on how he was written and I can’t wait to trade up for Michael.

✔ Maze finally had some happiness and attachment to this silly mortal coil and it slipped away! Why Eve why? I love Maze’s bonding with humans, Linda, Trixie, Chloe. But I love that after a Millennia of serving, and then watching Amenadiel and Linda be happy in a family unit, that she might actually make her own and my hopes were dashed. 

Things we got that we didn’t even know we wanted. SO GOOD:

Season 4 ep 8: Amenadiel bonding with Caleb and confronting community violence, police brutality, and systemic racism. It was a rough episode to be sure, but absolutely needed,

Chloe talking Lucifer down and out of a self-hatred spiral and his transformation into full-fledged devil and back again.

Lucifer playing Creep on repeat while missing the detective (even after insisting in a therapy session that “he’s not a teenager playing Adele on repeat) and Mr. Said Out B**** trying to rob Lucifer and gun point and ultimately get rich. What a fun twist.

The Dan and Maze Los X’s fight. They are wicked good at laying down the  hurt on the criminal element and I was wondering when they’d pair up again after dispatching Warden Perry.

The devil in a bar fight! I mean, it’s only fair since the ladies had their brawl. I love how this fight sequence was filmed in bursts of slo-mo from various angles, involved everything from fists, to tasers, knives, bottles, and the infamous pool cue, and they picked the perfect song for pacing (Jake Bugg, Lightning Bolt, could listen to it all day on repeat.)

Time for all good demons to go home / Enough, you will bow down to your king. Go home! (aka appropriate use of Devilish intimidation face)

Amenadiel vs Remi 

A Rocky montage with Lucifer and Amenadiel / Amenadiel’s face the first time Lucifer drives the Corvette

Lucifer at the roller derby

Chloe the YA fangirl

Maze teaching Trixie about knives, with each handle decorated in a different toy.

Amenadiel and Chloe catching up: your father is so proud of you. Like and angel BOSS!

SEASON HIGHLIGHTS:

★ (s3) Amenadiel taking Charlotte home

★ Dan being comforted in his grief by Amenadiel

★ Amenadiel’s wrath and the brotherly duo tag team to lay the hurt on the drug dealer that got Charlie killed. It’s been a while since we’ve seen warrior angel ready to dispatch anyone in his way. And it was glorious!

★ (s3) Lucifer’s almost driving lesson with Trixie “Morningstar”

★ (s3) Maze torturing Lucifer by making him think he’s the Angel of San Bernadino

★ (s3) Amenadiel and Lina helping to dispose of Lucifer’s wings

★  Lucifer kicking Julian, Tiernan’s son, through a glass pane window

★ The goodbye kiss between Lucifer and Chloe

 DIDN’T LIKE:

☒ (s3) Cain playing guitar and singing. What is he, a crime lord, a top cop, or an act that the improv club wouldn’t take? 

☒ Eve. I liked Eve, but we mostly got to see one side of her around Lucifer, and a kind of floundering an confused side when she was with Maze. The side that I would have liked to see more of was the maternal side that came out when she briefly talked about Abel or was interrogated by Trixie. That made her more layered.

☒ Father Kinley. That dude is just meh.

☒ Dan’s broken heart and rebounding with Ella. Don’t get me wrong, its a good arc, but I don’t see it lasting

☒ (s3) Abel and Reese. Those were two side stories I could have done without, although they had great moments of humor. I quite enjoyed Reese’s character, and although I didn’t like Abel Lucifer’s stick-figure comic illustration of Cain fighting with him over a rock was quite enjoyable.

WHAT I TRULY DESIRE: SINFUL SEASON 5, my BURNING QUESTIONS, and SPECULATIONS

Obviously, don’t spoil anything for me, but if any of my desires end up coming true in any of the first eight episodes maybe drop me a hint in the comments...

A big time jump. We need to see the lasting impact of Lucifer’s absence. I know that time in hell works differently per that episode where Lucifer saved Chloe and almost got stuck in a loop, but we still need enough time to elapse that the impact is felt on the mortal side. Or, we need to see the passage of time through a series of events without Lucifer, like a montage of character development. At least a year or so, if for no other reason then Trixie is growing up and I actually want to see her take driving lessons with Lucifer.

Last season Maze gave baby Charlie a gift, something she’d wished she’d had growing up, and previously had alluded to the language of demons, her many siblings, and teased her mother, the mother of all demons. Will we finally get to meet Maze’s mom Lilith (or however they address her)? And, in spite of Mazikeen’s found family, she still has restlessness and abandonment issues. Will her mom finally finally bring her peace, or will clashing with her resolidify Maze’s purpose on earth?

A Decker/Mazikeen team-up or girls night out 2.0 would always be appreciated. At this point its probably 4.0 if you count the bar fight and the bachelorette party.

Will we see tougher, scarier demons, or are they just warmup to the really scary depths of hell?

Speaking of hell, more hell. Tons of hell. I want to know the minutia of all the mechanics. If Lucifer’s gotta be down there in self-imposed exile, he may as well show us around. Pour us a drink.

Will Lucifer see Cain in Hell? Not that I’m dying to see more of “sad Cain” but it would be interesting to see a more dark or desperate or cunning side to him at least now that he’s actually neck deep in torment. Or, alternatively, I’m hedging my bets that he could be a good candidate to light the fire under Lucifer’s *** to get of hell back to the earthly realm. Even in hell, I’m betting Cain would have a soft spot for Chloe, and if news reached Lucifer that Michael were trying to abscond with his life and with Chloe, it would give Cain and Lucifer one last bit of “A-Hole brothers” common ground to bond over. Like “Brothers, am I right? Go kick, get Chloe back, I’ll still have enough guilt to torture me with in a few thousand years when you get back,”   

Will Lucifer fall into peril in hell of once again potentially getting distracted and stuck in a hell loop? Will his servants be satisfied with his return? Will Amenadiel bust him out.

Mr. Said Out Bitch needs a role reprise. He’s been in every season opener 2-4, we’ve gotten to know his undergarments very well.  Its high time we get to know his name and story. He’s put in the work!  

Amenadiel should be running LUX in Lucifer's absence. We got a tease of that in previous seasons (remember when he asked what would Lucifer do?) its time for that to come to fruition. Plus, any excuse to put DB Woodside in a suit, just because he wears them so well. It would also be interesting if, after that tragedy he’s experienced, Amenadiel will start taking after Luci. Maybe not the punishing, not yet, but wanting to seek out evil and corruption. It has been teased since s1 “fall as I did.” Perhaps he’ll start developing a taste for his bother’s line of work whereas he found it repugnant in the early days

Dan and Maze or Dan and Ella pair up. Both Dan and Maze are due for some happiness.

An Azrael reboot, when need more of her. She’s the angel of Death for pity’s sake. I don’t know if the original actress is still available or if they would have to recast, or if the character concept by Netflix would even be the same, but I need Azrael to be capable of sweet and unassuming and on a coin flip downright menacing.

More of Lucifer as a godparent, bless! And maybe a cool montage of “cousin” Trixie and Lucifer co-babysitting Charlie please.

Whilst on the subject of Lucifer and parenting, and without putting Trixie too much into harm’s way, I need to see what “I would do anything to protect that little urchin” looks like. Trixstar ride or die.

Father Frank, come back! I need a cameo or recurrent role pleeeeease.

Trixie in every episode. This is non-negotiable, much like chocolate cake. Beatrice is an all-star. In fact, I’ve decided that when Dad/God finally does show up, Trixie needs to be the one to get to know him / introduce him first. She’s been captain on the celestial cheer squad for four seasons, she’s earned this.

Who's going to see through Michael's facade first? I mean, I know that trailer shows Maze torturing it out of him, but as far as intuition goes, I've got a 50/50 split between Trixie and Linda, with an honorable mention to Dan.

If Michael is Lucifer's twin, does he have the same angelic compulsion skill set? Or something different? And will it work on Chloe or is she universally immune?

A “be like Mike” pop-culture reference. ******Spoilers: ******* all the trailers have revealed Michael already, so they owe us this for letting the steam out.

As far as pop-culture, how many movie and TV references will we get from Lucifer and ensemble this year? I expect A-game, from sci-fi to 80s action, on par with the previous likes of Parent Trap, Star Wars, Home Alone, Kim Possible, and Rocky.

Will Amenadiel’s necklace make a reappearance, even after he put it around Caleb’s neck in the morgue? Heavenly artifacts have a way of causing trouble in this show.

Will what finally learn what, if any, significance there is to Lucifer’s ring? Again, as all my fictional writings will attest, I really kind of want it to be a stolen little trinket from him Dad.

Plot twist: will we get to see Hell and the silver city all in one season, or is that too devilishly good to ask? It would be intriguing if Lucifer fell from Heaven for rebelling and now some threat like, for example, the mother of demons would pose a threat to the gates such that Lucifer was called upon to defend them. Not expecting anything Endgame level with a host of Angels popping up like sorcerers...but it is food for the imagination.

Plot twist: will Michael, duplicitous twin that he is, be revealed as the reason that Lucifer does not lie and can’t stand liars? Will be get a Michael back story? Is he perhaps the true rebellious son? see: my original fan conjecture here.

Additional links to previous recaps, roundouts and wishlists: 

Season 1: Best Moments // Season 2: Predictions, Desires, Roundout, Best Moments // Season 3: Speculations, Quick-shot summary