#but james olsen still has my heart
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natalievoncatte · 6 months ago
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“Let her go,” said Lena.
“Not a chance, said the Atomizer. Or Atomo, or the Atomic Lad. Some idiot with a cheesy atom symbol on his jumpsuit and a beam projector strapped to his arm.
Lena knew why this guy hadn’t already been mopped up by Supergirl: he wasn’t worth her time.
This was, frankly, embarrassing. She wasn’t listening to his monologue, something about losing his job after Supergirl stopped a nuclear incident and he was found out to have violated safety protocols. He’d jury-rigged himself up some kind of particle beam, probably not enough to scratch the maid of might.
He was still giving it the old college try, so he’d kidnapped Lena Luthor on the logic that whenever Lena Luthor was in danger, Supergirl was quick to appear.
She’d been sitting here for four hours, tied to a chair at the docks on the west end in some dilapidated shithole warehouse. Supergirl was decidedly a no-show.
Lena could almost write this off as an inconvenience. This dipshit meant her no harm and she was, at least a first, sure that Supergirl would show up and this would turn into one of those heartwarming ones where she didn’t have to throw a punch and the bad guy ended up forgiving her.
He should. From the bits and pieces she heard, it was his fucking fault anyway.
There was a problem. It was making Lena’s heart race, her pulse pound, and a thin trickle of sweat run down the small of her back. Kara was in a chair just like hers, parked six inches away, and tied up.
She was also drifting in and out and had a knot on her head from where Captain Doofus here whacked her over the head with his arm beamer.
Her head perked up a little and she glanced at Lena, looked around.
“Whu… where am I?”
“You’re in the lair of DOCTOR ATOMOS!” he screamed. “I thought the Kryptonian would put in an appearance to save Miss Luthor, but she’s been a no-show, so I grabbed you. You’re her best friend, aren’t you?”
Kara shot Lena a furtive glance. “Not exactly.”
“Where is she? Why hasn’t she come? Do I need to grab that photographer, too? Jim Olden?”
“James Olsen,” Lena corrected.
“Shut up! I’ve broadcast to the city that if Supergirl doesn’t face me and admit what she did, I’m going to drop you two into the acid!”
“What acid?” said Kara.
Lena looked at her and looked down. They were both sitting on hinged grates positioned above a rather large vat of a nasty corrosive. Some toxic sludge that Lex probably had the company stockpiling here back in the back-when.
He was always ruining her day.
“I gave her an ultimatum,” he declared. “First one of you, then the other.”
Lena’s stomach dropped. Hard. She almost threw up her tuna wrap and kombucha. For some reason, the thought of her own shockingly horrific death -drowning in the acid, her lungs melting from the inside with no hope once she was submerged- was secondary.
Oh God. Oh God please not Kara.
“She’s not coming,” Lena said, firmly. “She’s busy or-“
“She wasn’t too busy to ruin my life!”
Kara looked frantic as she wriggled against the ropes holding her.
“Come on, come on come on come ON!” she thrashed. “Why now? Why now?”
The ‘villain’ paused. “Why now what?”
“Nothing. Just, listen. Don’t do this. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes.”
“I’m INNOCENT!”
“Then don’t start a list of crimes!” Lena pleaded.
He rounded on her.
“Look,” said Lena. “I’m Lena Luthor, I’ll get you a new job. I’ll build you a fucking power plant if that’s what you want. Just,”
“What, let you go?”
Lena looked at Kara.
“Let us go. Please. I’ll stay if you let Kara go.”
He belly laughed at her. “So she can tell the cops where we are?”
“You already announced where we are!” Kara snapped.
“Don’t hurt her. Please. Just not her.”
Kara turned slowly and looked at her.
“What’s your real name?” Lena asked, looking at their captor. “You know mine.”
“Ha! That hostage negotiation crap won’t work on me.”
He turned and headed for a pair of levers.
“Eeenie meanie miney moe,” said… the guy. Lena was not giving this bastard the dignity of a trade name.
“Kara,” said Lena. She felt strangely calm, looking at her… her best friend. Like she knew she needed to do this right in whatever little time she had, and her nerves gave her the gift of tranquility.
“Lena?”
“You mean so much to me,” Lena said. “I… I just want to… I wish I could…”
Oh, now she couldn’t get the words out. Perfect.
Kara looked at her wide-eyed, and terror flashed briefly in her eyes as the grate swung below her and she plummeted into empty air.
“KARA!” Lena wailed.
Splash.
Lena screamed, a wordless, titanic cry of agony that tore her throat and burned her lungs. When it faded she wailed again, words lost to her. Oh God.
“You monster!” Lena screamed, “you miserable fucking monster, you’d better fucking kill me too, because if you let me live I’m going to-“
Lena went silent as a shape rose through the hole in the floor, rising gracefully into the air. Supergirl hovered in the air, a scowl of righteous fury carved on her lovely face.
“At last, there you are!” Professor Douchebag snarled, aiming his arm at her.
Her eyes flashed and he screamed, suddenly tugging at the red-hot ruin strapped to his arm. Supergirl landed, and dragged Lena’s chair, and Lena with it, away from the grate.
She turned and sucked in a breath, flash-freezing his ruined weapon with a concentrated blast. With a contentious smack he knocked his helmet off, revealing a doughy, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and blood running down his nose.
Supergirl grabbed his collar and hauled him off his feet. She stalked over and held him above the opening in the floor, his feet dangling over the acid.
“Supergirl?” Lena said.
“How does it feel?” she said, coldly.
“Please,”
“Lena said please,” her voice was ice. “You didn’t listen to her.”
“Supergirl,” said Lena. “Don’t.”
Then it hit her.
Supergirl had her hair up. She never wore her hair up. It was exactly the same as…
Her mind raced though possibilities. None of them fit. There was only one conclusion.
Oh.
“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Please.”
Her gaze snapped to Lena and a harrowing moment later, she tossed the wannabe villain aside, and wrapped a chain around him, binding him to an upright. Then she turned to Lena.
Kara tapped her ear.
“Alex, you have my location? There’s a wannabe here, he kidnapped Lena. She’s fine. He’s not. Get a cleanup crew and a bus down here please. No, I’m not staying.”
With a single smooth motion, she snapped the cords binding Lena and scooped her up against her powerful chest, tucking her in close before lifting off through skylight.
Lena pressed her eyes shut- she hated flying, even like this. She opened them when she felt the jolt as Kara’s boots touched down, and Kara set her down.
They’d come in through one of the tall windows in Kara’s loft.
“Oh my God,” Lena breathed. “I thought he… I thought you were…”
“I almost was,” Kara said softly. “I solar flared a few days ago. I burned out my powers fighting that Mondarian. It usually takes a few days, maybe a week, before I can use them again, but sometimes an adrenaline rush will make them kick in early.”
“Was it hitting the acid?”
Kara shook her head.
“No. It was what you said, and the way you screamed when I fell. I knew I had to live.”
Lena blinked a few times, surprised by the hot burn of her own tears, mirrored by those falling down Kara’s cheeks.
“What you said… what I think you were trying to say,” said Kara. “Me too.”
Lena stood frozen in shock for a second, before she launched herself at Kara. Their lips met in a dizzying soft crash and when Kara’s hands landed on her waist, Lena felt a pang of fear that she’d misjudged and ruined it all.
Then Kara’s hand snaked up her back as the other looped around her waist and pulled her in, using her height to tip Lena back just a touch as the kiss deepened and Lena felt her heart flutter in her throat as her tongue tasted the soft taste of Kara.
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logansargeantsbabymom · 6 months ago
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You Deserve It
Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader
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A Marvelous Surprise
I’d always thought that my life was pretty perfect. I had everything I could ever want: a supportive family, great friends, and a boyfriend who was not only incredibly talented but also genuinely kind. My boyfriend was none other than Oscar Piastri, the Formula 1 driver who had taken the world by storm. But, as I found out one sunny afternoon at the racetrack, sometimes even the perfect life has a few extraordinary surprises.
The day started like any other Grand Prix day. I was in the pit lane, surrounded by the clamor of engines and the frenetic energy of the race day preparations. Oscar had been busy with the team, and I was making my way through the paddock, trying to stay out of the way but still soaking in every moment of the high-octane atmosphere.
I had my usual race day ritual—cheering for Oscar from the best spot I could find and, if I had a moment, catching up on social media. My love for Marvel was well-known among my friends, and they had teased me about it endlessly. Every interview I did where I gushed about my favorite characters—Bucky Barnes, played by Sebastian Stan, and my all-time favorite actor, James McAvoy—was met with knowing smiles and playful jabs.
Oscar had heard it all, of course. He was always so patient with my endless Marvel monologues. I had even been lucky enough to attend a few fan events, where my excitement for superheroes could be fully unleashed. But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen.
The race was in full swing, and Oscar was driving brilliantly. I was on the edge of my seat, my eyes locked on the track, when my phone buzzed with a new message. I glanced down to see a text from Oscar: “Meet me at the hospitality suite after the race. I have a surprise for you.”
My heart raced—not from the thrill of the race, but from the anticipation of Oscar’s surprise. The remainder of the race felt like it dragged on forever. When Oscar finally crossed the finish line, victorious as always, I couldn’t wait to see him.
After the post-race celebrations, I headed to the hospitality suite. The area was relatively quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the pit lane. I entered the suite, expecting to find Oscar waiting with a small token of his appreciation or perhaps just a sweet gesture to celebrate his win.
What I saw instead took my breath away.
The suite was filled with the unmistakable aura of Marvel’s finest. There, standing among the elegant furniture and decorations, were some of my absolute favorites—Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Elizabeth Olsen, Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., James McAvoy, Evan Peters, and Anthony Mackie. They were chatting amongst themselves, their faces lit with amusement as they turned to see me enter.
My jaw dropped. My eyes darted between them, not quite believing what I was seeing. I stumbled into the room, feeling like I was walking through a dream.
Oscar stepped up beside me, his grin as wide as ever. “Surprise, YN!” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. “I know how much you love Marvel and James McAvoy, so I thought I’d arrange a little meet-and-greet.”
I couldn’t form words. I just stared, blinking rapidly. Chris Evans noticed and chuckled. “I think we broke her,” he said, leaning toward the others.
Elizabeth Olsen came over, her smile warm and genuine. “Hi, YN! I’m Elizabeth. We’ve all heard so much about your love for Bucky Barnes. It’s great to finally meet you!”
Sebastian Stan, ever the charming Bucky, approached with a wink. “Hey there. I see you’re a fan of my alter ego. I have to say, it’s always amazing to meet someone who appreciates Bucky like you do.”
James McAvoy was next. My heart skipped a beat as he extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, YN. I’ve heard you’re quite the fan. Your enthusiasm is contagious.”
I shook his hand, barely able to contain my excitement. “James, I can’t believe it’s really you. You’ve been my favorite actor for as long as I can remember.”
Evan Peters and Anthony Mackie joined in, their smiles infectious. “So, YN, what’s it like having Oscar Piastri as your boyfriend?” Evan asked playfully. “Is he as impressive off the track as he is on it?”
I laughed, still trying to get my head around everything. “Oh, absolutely. He’s amazing.”
Scarlett Johansson then stepped forward, her presence commanding. “YN, I’ve heard so much about your passion for the Marvel universe. It’s wonderful to see such enthusiasm.”
We spent the next few hours in a whirlwind of conversation, photo ops, and laughter. I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Oscar watched with a knowing smile, clearly enjoying the joy his surprise had brought me.
I chatted with each of them about their roles, my favorite scenes, and even got some behind-the-scenes stories. Chris Evans regaled me with tales from the set of the Captain America films, while Robert Downey Jr. shared funny anecdotes about his time as Iron Man.
When it was time to say goodbye, I was reluctant to leave. I hugged each of them, my heart full of gratitude and happiness. “Thank you all so much. This has been a dream come true.”
As I walked out with Oscar by my side, I felt like I was walking on air. “You really outdid yourself this time,” I said, leaning into him.
Oscar kissed my forehead. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserve every bit of happiness.”
The ride back to our hotel was quiet, filled with comfortable silence and shared smiles. I knew I’d be reliving every moment of the day in my mind for a long time. The memories would be a cherished part of my life, thanks to Oscar and his incredible surprise.
As I finally settled into bed, I found myself replaying the day’s events. It felt like I was living in a Marvel movie, where everything came together perfectly in the end. I had my superhero dreams come true, and it was all thanks to the love of my life who knew me better than anyone else.
-
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moistvonlipwig · 2 months ago
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Top 5 Supergirl characters that aren't lena
ooh nice!!!
Querl Dox my bestest man my bitchy king you will always be famous <333
I'm going to say Clark Kent -- I think Tyler Hoechlin was actually very well-cast in the role, and Clark is kind of inherently likable.
Honestly slots 3-5 are pretty interchangeable and could even be potentially swapped out for a couple other characters, but today I'm going to go with James Olsen for #3. He has a quiet, thoughtful steadiness to him that I find appealing, but crucially he can also be bitchy when called for (and sometimes when not, which is also okay; flaws make characters better).
Red Daughter can take the #4 slot -- I think she's a really interesting glimpse at an alternate Kara, and it's a damn shame the show immediately forgot about her after she died.
And Nia Nal rounds out the list at #5. I wish they gave her more to do than "annual episode about transphobia," but Nicole Maines still imbues her with a lot of fun and heart, and she gets enough moments of snark and anger that she doesn't feel totally sanitized for the audience (the way Kelly unfortunately does to me a lot of the time, despite Azie Tesfai's best efforts).
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this-is-chaos-magick · 5 months ago
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https://www.tumblr.com/this-is-chaos-magick/761203136337674240/httpswwwtumblrcomthis-is-chaos-magick7611552
I can only hope that Wanda will get the character arc she deserves, no matter where. (Also her as Lizzie as Virginia sounds interesting, especially since it could be played as a way for Vision to try and understand his old self and recapture his old life as best he can, even if it’s not accurate to Tom King’s book)
Idk, I’ve kinda stopped worrying about Marvel stuff anymore. I still care, but not like I once did, and for me, I think the fact the the MCU has fumbled my favorite characters (Wanda, Sam Wilson, and at this point Shang-Chi), and some of my favorite directors (Taikia Waititi, Sam Raimi, and especially James Gunn) has helped me check out.
I actually wanna make a post about DC character I think Elizabeth Olsen would absolutely be amazing for, as part of an extremely larger post I have about the Doom Patrol. I know it’s weird to bring up DC randomly, and I do apologize, it’s just where my brain and heart have landed since Guardians 3 came out and James Gunn took over DC. Again, not that I’m completely checked out of Marvel, I’m just tired, and want the characters and creatives I love to be treated well.
Again, I’m sorry for this rant in particular being super disjointed and bizarre.
I get it, I am not really that interested into new marvel stuff unless it's Wanda related, Daredevil and Moon knight...I haven't watch any of the other Disney shows...or latest movies...it's really hard to care about MCU stuff this time....well Deadpool and the Wolverine kinda revive the 'hype' about marvel movies...I mean they are like 2 iconic characters...so that makes sense...I haven't watch the movie yet...bcuz I don't have time (Its already spoiled to me :| )
I am extremely excited and nervous about Agatha and Vision's show...I know some Wanda fans "don't like" it...but to me it's like a trilogy... You know.... Wandavision, Agatha all along and then the Vision quest....and hopefully after all of that they would announce a Wanda solo project...but idk if that time came I would still be obsessed with Wanda...3, 4 or 5 years from now....I wonder if a scarlet witch movie would still interest people,....the Wanda hype kinda has been slowly dying down...I miss the pre dsmom era....
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talas-first-lady · 2 years ago
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Ok so additional Supergirl thoughts that I’m not going to get too in depth with because I feel like death. But. I am now halfway-ish through season 2.
I still do not understand the whole J’onn and M’gann thing. They pretty clearly establish her as a stand in for his daughters at first but then he’s in love with her. It makes no sense and is so vaguely disquieting that I’m half glad she goes back to Mars.
I didn’t remember Lena being this boring.
Look, you know I love Alex Danvers with all my heart but Maggie deserves a raise for putting up with her.
The entire DEO deserves a raise as well for having to exist in the general vicinity of the superfriends.
Everyone on this show needs therapy, but today I am specifically calling out James Olsen for deciding that a metal suit was the correct answer to his problems.
This super annoying thing is happening where I actually enjoy Mon-El before he starts dating Kara. It’s the same phenomenon as Hook on OUAT, Constantine on Legends, etc. Characters that are surprisingly delightful despite themselves up until they become bad boyfriends.
And it doesn’t help that Mon-El plays into my favorite trope which is “I don’t know how to human!” But he puts such an interesting twist on it.
Like I love Wonder Woman because of her innocent excitement at everything she encounters. And then you have Mon-El who has absolutely none of that innocence and is generally acting in bad faith but like... can’t figure out telephones and social security numbers. Diana is amazed by everything but also deeply disappointed to find out that humans suck. Mon-El has no illusions about the world being a good place and he keeps running into petty inconveniences that he just Does Not Get.
It’s just a really interesting take on that trope that he’s not coming from a place of innocence at all. But then they go and ruin it.
Anyway.
The season 2 characters are just so deeply unlikable* that I’m like “at least Mon-El knows he’s a douchebag.”
*Not including Alex and Maggie who are disasters but they’re pretty disasters so I will allow it. Also Lena sometimes.
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jamescarstairs · 7 years ago
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why is my man James Olsen never in the crossovers 
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lena-in-a-red-dress · 6 years ago
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PHOTOGRAPHER JAMES OLSEN
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blorb-el · 2 years ago
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Hello! What are the things that you'd like to see (or see more) in a Superman story?
o/ !
hmm, fanfiction or canon? Because in fanfiction... we're all here for fun, and I'm more interested in reading something the author's genuinely interested in writing. What I want out of canon Superman stories is pretty different than what I’m looking for when I fire up AO3. That being said, here is a long stream of consciousness of fanfic concepts that are currently living rent free in my brain. at least the sfw ones lol
there was An Art gremlin did a while back of Bruce tearing up when Clark was washing his hair and tbqh i think that would go both ways. the idea of an invulnerable man being treated softly drives me insane
superbat hand kisses. do i even need to elaborate. i will (threat)
i love plotty long world built alien space mission fic, which I realize is hard to write, but I love it anyway
Kryptonian. I know the grammar is hard and the vocabulary is sparse but I would be willing to beta or translate lines of dialogue if anyone wants to include Kryptonian in their fics...
(clark and diana teaching each other kryptonian and themysciran greek…)
general Kryptonian worldbuilding. I am on the verge of trying to encyclopedia precrisis Krypton just so people can throw in tanthuo flez or :dhosurro.
also kryptonian myths, ethics, nicknames... like just tossing it out into the wild that zhor krigia means bright heart... clark calling kara kir-a as a pun on bright... kara calling clark kahl-te...
also alien biology but that’s a given with me. still. had to throw it in
i know i'm superbat on main but. good clois content...
good kara content................
kara where she shows up and is markedly Other and. everyone is at first confused (’that’s not how kryptonians are’) and then slowly realizes how much clark masks...
ABOVE ALL ELSE. COMPETENT SUPERMAN. PLEASE.
how many languages does Superman speak? Can Superman pull a child out of a mudslide in rural India and reassure her she's going to be all right and help her find her parents - in her own language? (yes. ideally he should be able to.)
the adventures of insomniac superman. precrisis the man only sleeps 1 hour a day. granted lots of time is taken up studying aforementioned languages but. 3AM clark sitting in an all night diner in texas because there was a robbery nearby and he needed to not to be alone wanted coffee afterwards. clark watching the earthrise standing on the moon. sunlight tasting different at different altitudes.
(clark bringing a moon rock back to bruce like hey thought you might like this)
you know those fics where clark meets the batfam and like. learns to get along or whatever with them. that but in reverse. give me bruce wayne learning how to tolerate the menace that is jimothy james pulitzer prize winning photographer turtle boy menace olsen
young clark reading. actually clark in general reading but especially young clark reading, trying to understand his place in the world. Superman should have an opinion on Nietzsche's Ubermensch.
clark as a chaotic good person locked into a society and a role that demands lawful goodness of him
well thought out implications of growing up with superpowers. not to toot my own horn but this post i did from a while ago explains why the concept of infrared vision still lives rent free in my head
i am ALWAYS trash for listening into people's heartbeats. it makes no sense auditorially but neither does superhearing in general. read this fic diptych from bruce and then clark pov it's about their twinned nightmares and listening to heartbeats and overhearing bruce crying and the hurt of privacy invasion!!! then go read the first one in the series. wah.
The Call from Batman Black and White has a pretty garbage Clark but the idea that sticks in my brain from that is when Clark is afraid he’s just another tool in Bruce’s utility belt. chefs kiss. god i love angst. not the time to angst when someone’s bleeding out clark but god i love it anyway. anyway fic of this scenario (Clark is Bruce’s absolute last resort and he has to call on him) but not bad
crossovers... get flashpoint kal some HELP that man needs HELP
GET DCAU CLARK SOME HELP THAT MAN NEEDS HELP. PLEASE PEOPLE. WATCH STAS’S APOKOLIPS ARC SO YOU WILL UNDERSTAND HOW BADLY THAT MAN NEEDS HELP.
just because bruce timm was not going to address clark being essentially sexually assaulted during that arc doesn't mean we gotta leave it alone
anyway basically. just. good characterization. or. i’ll settle for interesting characterization at this point. my personal standards of clark characterization hinge on my three favorite Capital S Superman Stories: birthright, all-star, and miracle monday. if a fic has just one of the aspects of those characterizations I'm content. I would elaborate on that but this is already too long.
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randomshyperson · 4 years ago
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Elizabeth Olsen x Reader - Love outside the screen II (Special)
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Gif is not mine, and honestly I think I fell more in love with her when I saw it.
Summary:  The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen. 
Notes: Many people have asked me to continue this work, and here I am, releasing a special part. There will probably be a third part, but I wanted to share these new moments that I wrote. Let me know if you want more, or this was enough. Also, sorry for any typos, translating is a pain.
Words:  8.562k (This chapter) // Complete Work on AO3
Warnings: Smut is here guys. Dom!Reader, brief/slightly mention of slapping during seggs,  sub!lizzie, kissing, teasing, fluff. 
Marks: @abimess @mionemymind @the-havana-club​
Link for part One || Part Three
//-//​
Present
You had a mild migraine. 
Your phone had been buzzing with new notifications for the last few hours, and you had just been approached by about ten very insistent journalists as you walked towards the Marvel studios.
It had been two days since you and your wife, Elizabeth Olsen, announced to the world that you two were married, and well, things have taken on a significant proportion in this period. You were both still slightly startled by the giant air balloon that came circling near the Hollywood sign with your ship name and a heart that had the phrase "it's finally canon" on it.
The only notification you read was a message from Lizzie with a heart emoji, wishing you good luck at your meeting, which has already improved your day considerably.
- You are here, great. - Said James Gunn, as soon as his secretary took you into his office. He looked excited. - I have news about your contract.
You tried not to look so anxious as you entered the room, and smiled at the Russian brothers, who were already inside.
After they greeted you, you sat down in the empty chair.
- Before we start, I wanted to congratulate you on the wedding, my wife was so happy when you announced it on Jimmy's show. - Anthony Russo exclaimed with a smile, and you felt your cheeks flush, but thanked him.
- Well, as you know, your character is technically officially dead now. - Joe said, and you nodded. - But, now we have the White Vision. And there are other projects in which your character will appear again, mainly in the Doctor Strange movies.
You blink in surprise.
- That's great, actually. - You say. - I was beginning to think I would be fired.
The men laughs.
- Believe me, we still have many plans for the Vision. - Joe comments. - By the way, now that you and Lizzie are officially America's power couple, any mention of Wanda and Vision will be great for business.
You swallow dryly, uncomfortable with where the conversation is going. You had no intention of using your relationship to make money. But the Russo Brothers quickly change the subject, starting to explain what the future plans are for your character in the MCU, and you are excited to learn that you will be participating in the next Doctor Strange, working with Lizzie again.
As you leave the office, you ask Lizzie if she would like you to bring something for dinner.
Eight years ago
Although you have done it so many times before, you are still nervous as you wait your turn at the audition for the role of Vision in Avengers.
You text Sara, your agent, to confirm that you had arrived a few minutes ago, and she sends you a "good luck, you can do it" text. 
In the end, Sara was right. You read the text as rehearsed, and the interviewers were pleased with your performance. You made it through the initial assessment, and they were excited to work with you. But you had to pass the chemistry test with your romantic partner, so you would be back the next day.
It was Tuesday, and you were up early, too anxious to do a good job. After getting ready, in a comfortable outfit for the auditions, you had coffee at your favorite bistro, and drove to the building where the auditions were being held.
Mentally going over your lines, you got distracted, and as you entered the building you bumped into someone.
- Damn, I'm so sorry! - You asked worriedly, looking at the state of the blouse of the girl you had bumped into. You had hit the coffee she was carrying with your hand and now there was a stain on her clothes. She didn't look angry though, the emerald orbs looking at you in surprise. You were relieved to know that it was iced coffee.
- No problem. - She comments, shaking her arm to clean the drink. - I hope the producers don't mind.
- My god you have an audition? - You asked feeling very guilty, but the girl laughed at your expression, assuring you that it was no problem. - No way! Wait here, I have a change of clothes in my car.
You hurried back to your vehicle, and grabbed the sweatshirt set that you always kept with you. Then you went back to the girl, and signaled for you two to find a restroom. She seemed surprised by your willingness to help, but smiled. In the end, you gave her the shirt you were wearing while changing for your sweatshirt.
- Hey, I think we're decent. - You comment smiling at yours reflection in the bathroom mirror, and the girl laughs as she puts the stained clothes in a bag.
- You really didn't have to do all that. - She says as you leave the bathroom, and you shrug.
- No, it was my fault. I spilled the coffee. - You retort. - And besides, I'd hate to have an audition with a stain on my clothes.
The girl laughs, shaking her head.
- Actually, I don't have an audition. - She clarifies. - I'm just here for a final adjustment.
- Oh, right. - You say. - Still, it was no problem at all. You can also keep the shirt on if you want.
- What? No, that's asking too much. - She refuses, smiling. - I think I'll be there for a while, but I can leave it at reception if I don't see you again.
- Okay then. - You accept, putting your hands in your pockets. You stare at her for a second, finding her very nice, and then blink, remembering your appointment. - Eh, I guess that's it. Good luck on your non-audition.
The woman laughs nodding her head before wishing the same for you. You think you are smiling even after she leaves, but then you reach for your watch and head back to the reception desk, trying to figure out where your chemistry test is going to take place.
Fifteen minutes later you are directed to a room, and you let out a surprised expression when you find the same woman as before sitting in the armchair next to the Russo brothers.
She looked in your direction as surprised as you were. You gave her a little smile that said " that's weird".
- I'm glad you had no trouble getting here. - Said Joe, smiling and greeting you with a kiss on the cheek. - I want you to meet Elizabeth Olsen, she's Wanda Maximoff in the franchise.
- Hey. - You greet her with a kiss on the cheek, and she smiles awkwardly. 
- Hello again. - She says softly in a playful tone and you smile, pulling away. 
- We're on a tight schedule, so let's get started. - announced Russo next. You both nodded.
Elizabeth was impressively easy to act with. It was like talking to a friend. The Russos tried out several different scenes, and you were so completely involved that they had to say cut a few more times to get you two to listen. And then you were laughing together, as if you had known each other for years.
When you finished, the brothers had happy expressions on their faces.
- How did you do that? - he asks, laughing lightly. - We had already tested some actresses, but none came out this naturally.
You shifted the weight of your feet, slightly embarrassed. Elizabeth laughs.
- Well, technically we've already met. - She says, and Joe looks at her curiously. - She sort of spilled iced coffee on me.
Joe laughs.
- Wow, I guess we'll use that as a technique then. - he jokes. - Have the actors knock each other over with drinks before the auditions.
- Oh, you'll get a reaction out of them I'm sure. - You complete with mild irony, making him laugh.
- Anyway, thank you very much for today, girls. - He says straightening his posture. - I think we can make it official with your agent, Y/N. Oh, and welcome to the Avengers.
He smiles, hugging you. And then Anthony does the same. You hesitate slightly before hugging Elizabeth, but you do, and ignore the nervous feeling that settles in your stomach.
As you are driving home, there is a notification from Sara saying "congratulations, you are officially a futuristic lesbian”.
Present
You stumbled into the house as you responded to Lizzie’s passionate kiss.
You had just returned from dinner, between giggles and stolen glances, you noticed the tension building as you drove home, and her hand kept stroking your thigh. As soon as you opened the door, and gave her room to enter, Lizzie dropped her purse on the floor and brought her hands to your shoulders, kissing you hard.
- I've missed you. - She remarked breathlessly when you parted your mouth to take off your jacket. You laughed lightly.
- You saw me this morning. - You teased before kissing her again. 
And then you let your tongue wander over her bottom lip, begging for passage, and Lizzie smiled lightly against the kiss, sighing when she felt your tongue on hers. You felt a familiar warmth at the pit of your stomach, and tried to keep some clarity in your thoughts to at least make it to the bedroom, but your wife was absolutely breathtaking. When she slipped her hand into your pants, you let out a surprised exclamation.
- Wow, are you in a hurry darling? - you joked, making her smile and flush. But then she was twiddling her fingers, and you couldn't say anything else.
Many hours later, you awoke to the sound of your mobile ringing. At some point, you and Lizzie had taken the playful mess into the bedroom, and she was peacefully sleeping next to you in your bed. You grumbled lightly, scrambling upright on the bed with the minimum of fuss to reach the device lying on the floor in your pants pocket.
- Yes? - You answered as soon as you reached it, getting up so that the noise wouldn't wake Lizzie.
- Sorry about the time. - asked your agent's voice on the other end of the line. You ran your hand over your face, trying to wake up. - But it just happened, and I wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. You quickly put on a T-shirt as you stumbled out of the room.
- What is it Sara? - You asked walking downstairs, slightly concerned by the seriousness of your agent's voice.
- Just... don't get so angry, okay? I can work around it. - She says and then there is a notification noise and you pull the phone away from your ear to read what she had sent you. When you open the attachment, a news report appears on the screen.
The report was about an interviewer giving homophobic statements publicly and live on television, insinuating that you, due to your already known history of queer roles on television, were contaminating the Marvel environment and tarnishing the legacy of the company. It also had very negative comments about your relationship with Lizzie, and how you led her down a path of no return.
Sara had to call your name twice for you to ignore the boiling anger in your chest and put the phone back to your ear.
- What the fuck is this? - You grunted with anger.
- I know it's horrible, but it happened tonight on channel 32. - Sara explains with annoyance in her voice. - Your lawyers are already involved and...
- I don't care what he said about me. - You retort, clenching your fingers on your forehead and closing your eyes. - I just... I don't want Lizzie to be upset about it.
- Look, I'm not going to get involved in your relationship, but... - Sara paused, probably thinking of the right words. - You both knew what a public relationship meant. It is not your obligation to protect her from these rumors.
- I'm happy to do that, Sara. - You retort, slightly irritated. - If I have to take all the hate, I'll carry it. Lizzie doesn't deserve that.
- No one deserves it. - She says and you hear noises in the background. - I have to go, but I want you to be sure to share things with your wife. I don't want to do divorce papers.
- Good night, Sara. - You answer impatiently, then hang up. 
You decide to make yourself something hot to drink, and head toward the kitchen, hoping that your problems won't be so overwhelming in the morning.
Seven years ago
It was already your last week of recording Age of Ultron at Marvel Studios, and after a particularly exhausting day of action scenes, you dragged yourself back to your dressing room, shortly after waving goodbye to Chris and Scarllet.
You had met the other cast and crew members a few weeks ago, and they had been recording together for many months. Everyone was absolutely amazing, but you couldn't help thinking that your favorite person was Elizabeth, or Lizzie, as she insisted you call her. You hadn't really talked yet, but you hoped that now that you were colleagues, you would eventually become friends.
But then as you walked towards your dressing room in the parking areas, you heard a noise that caught your attention, it sounded like someone crying.
Frowning, you walked over, looking around, and then you found the source, someone is crying among the trailers, and your heart raced as you realized that it was Lizzie.
- Hey, what happened? - You asked quietly, approaching her, but not getting too close, for fear that she might think you were invading her space. But Lizzie barely heard you, trying to wipe the tears away quickly, even as new ones kept coming. - Lizzie?
- I... I don't... - she tried to say breathlessly and disoriented, and then you understood. You have seen this happen before, she was probably having an anxiety or panic attack. You took another step toward her.
- Is it okay if I hold your hands? - You asked apprehensively and waited for her to nod before moving closer. Interlacing your hands together, you made a point of making your breathing louder. - Lizzie, see the way I'm breathing? Try breathing along with me. - You guided her, and when she did, you gave her hands a gentle squeeze before moving them up to her shoulders. - Good, dear. Now relax your muscles, and keep breathing with me. - Lizzie continued to shiver, but her breathing was coming into rhythm. - How are we doing, Lizzie? Do you want to hug me? Or is this good?
- Hug. - She asked breathlessly, and you circled your arms around her shoulders, feeling her hug your waist.
- You're here with me, Lizzie. - You told her, trying to get her out of her own head. - It's okay, you're safe.
It takes a few more minutes, as you stroke her hair lightly, until Lizzie calms down completely. She gradually lets go, and her face turns red as she thanks you.
- It's no problem, really. - You assure her with a smile, your gaze wandering over her face, making sure she was better. - Would you like something to eat or drink?
Lizzie nods slightly, and you smile to comfort her, which seems to work, because she smiles back. You can't help but lift your hand to her face to wipe away the remaining tears, and watch her blush as you do so. 
Then you walk side by side to your car, and you try to keep her distracted with a bit of small talk so that she doesn't overthink things while you drive away.
It doesn't take long to reach the small cafe however, and Lizzie is laughing at your story about the day you spent an entire day calling a colleague by the wrong name because you got confused with the identifiers and no one seemed willing to clarify for you, when you sit down at the first empty table.
- I guess I owed you a cup of coffee after all. - You remark with a smile, and Lizzie chuckles.
The waitress takes your order, then as she leaves, Lizzie is starting to get distracted again, and you don't want to press her, but you find yourself asking.
- Not that you need to tell me, but if you want to, I'd like to know what happened?
Lizzie looks at you biting her lower lip clumsily, but she smiles when she looks at the table.
- It was stupid really. - She starts with a dry laugh. - It's been a hard day, and then my brain decided it was a good idea to check the instagram messages, and I know I shouldn't have done it, but I did it anyway. - She tells you with an annoyed expression, and you feel your chest tighten. - I just... People have so many opinions. So many people dictate the things that I'm doing, and I just... When I realized I was suffocating.
You nod in understanding, reaching out your hand to reach for hers on the table. 
- I never know what to say in these situations, but I think you'd better uninstall your instagram. - You say and she giggles, squeezing your hand lightly. - Lizzie, joking aside, we can't listen to everyone. The kind of life we have, there's just no way. You're going to get free hate, and you can't believe those things you read or hear. - You say and Lizzie looks away, knowing that you are right. - Hey, I'm not repressing you. I know how hard it is to ignore. If you want, I'll stick around and make sure you don't forget that you're one of the most amazing people I know.
Lizzie laughs shyly, her face flushing. And then the waitress was approaching and you let go of her hand.
You drink your coffees in silence for a few minutes, and then Lizzie is telling you about her family, and you do the same. You discover that she has had social anxiety for a long time, and she doesn't bother to answer your questions. So you talk about your childhoods, and dreams, and tell each other fun stories. You don't want Lizzie to talk about fame, especially since she has just become overwhelmed with it, so you make a point of guiding the conversation to topics that make her laugh. Maybe you like the sound of her laughter too.
After you paid for the drinks, Lizzie mentioned that she had an appointment, so you said goodbye. You kissed her on the cheek, and hugged her by the shoulders, saying that she could call you if she needed anything. She smiled with flushed cheeks when she agreed.
Neither of you noticed the paparazzi across the street, a perfect view from the restaurant window.
Seven years and four months ago.
You let out a laugh when you felt Lizzie's arms around your waist. 
- Thank you. - She grumbled, and you just wrapped your arms around her shoulders.
- My pleasure, neighbor. - You tease, making her laugh slightly before letting go.
You are in Lizzie's new house, a property that you helped to find, since you live on the same block. Your friend was looking for a permanent place to stay in LA, since Marvel had plans for a long shoot at the studios, and she had better find a place soon. 
You had a contact, and got Lizzie an excellent house. After a short tour of the place, where she let out an excited exclamation at every room, you went back to the kitchen, and she jumped on you, hugging you in appreciation.
- Let's order something to eat, I'm starving. - Lizzie said, reaching into her shorts pocket for her cell phone. You made a agreeing noise, leaning against the kitchen counter. And then Lizzie sat down on the countertop, and you scolded yourself for looking directly at her legs, but she didn't notice. - Pizza or Japanese food?
- Don't tell my coach, but I want pizza and a Coke. - You reply, making her laugh.
You talk about the neighborhood, and what it will be like to live so close to each other until the pizza arrives. And then you sit down on the living room floor, and while you put the pizza on the table, Lizzie turns on the television.
Between the second and third commercial of the game that was playing, you record some stories for your instagram, just moments of the two of you laughing and eating together. Lizzie posts a photo with the caption "new house" on the main feed.
And then you both call it a night, and she insists that you sleep in the guest room because it’s late, and you don't argue that you live only three houses away, accepting when she pulls you by the hand upstairs.
Six years ago
"I heard that you chose me as the champion of "Who Would You Rather". I am flattered." You smiled at Lizzie's message as you did your morning exercises.
She was teasing you about your interview on the Ellen Show the night before, and you imagine that one of your friends must have commented that you picked her as the person who, well, you would rather have. It was an innocent flirtation, you think. 
With the end of filming Age of Ultron several months ago, you were working on a new project. A temporary appearance in a television series called Supergirl, which would fill your schedule until the next film. 
You had already shot some scenes at the Warner studio, but you had a flight scheduled to Vancouver, where other parts of the season would be filmed.
The distance was tiring, but at least it was fun to shoot the action scenes, and you also liked the people in the cast.
After finishing your exercises, you went to get ready for the trip. Replying to Lizzie's message quickly with a heart emoji followed by the text "don't get too cocky, but I'd do it again". Then you blocked your cell phone and went to the shower.
Six years and four weeks ago, Canada.
Maybe you drank too much. But it was your farewell cast party, and they wanted to have a little party. And after a lot of drinking and laughing, you were stumbling around the corridors of the hotel where the celebration was taking place. And you are not alone. 
Stumbling along with you is your scene partner, Floriana Lima, who is laughing as you try to keep your balance toward your room. She was staying in the room next door and when you both reached the door, she struggled against the lock.
- I can't do it. - She whined and ducked slightly. You laughed and reached over to take the key card from her hand.
- This is sad. - You scoff humorously, ignoring the fact that your hands don't respond very well to your command either. Then Floriana is leaning against you, trying to see how you are opening the door, and starts laughing when you don't succeed. 
You are ready to tell her to shut up, but then the door opens and you both stumble inside with surprise.
You almost fall to the ground, feeling her hands on your waist. You laugh, finding the whole situation amusing, and she follows you. But when you turn around, extremely intoxicated by the alcohol, you move forward, kissing her on the mouth.
Something just doesn't feel right when her hands start roaming your body, and you fall into bed together, but you can't tell what it is. 
When she touches you intimately, you bite your lips, swallowing a moan of a name that doesn't sound like hers.
The next day, you have a massive migraine. So does the naked woman lying next to you.
Neither of you freaks out about last night. Casual sex is a very ordinary thing in celebrity life. You take some aspirin from the bathroom, and leave a pill on the bedside table for Floriana to take when she wakes up again.
You left the room afterwards, wanting to take a shower and put on some more comfortable clothes.
When you were ready, you grumbled as you looked at the time on your cell phone. You missed breakfast. But when you got downstairs in the lobby, you were happy to bump into Katie McGrath, your other cast mate.
- Please tell me you also missed breakfast. - You mumble as you meet her and she smiles.
- I'm going to eat at the cafeteria we saw on the way. - She says, looking at you with mild curiosity. - May I ask why you missed breakfast?
- I'll tell you my reason if you tell me yours. - You playfully retort, and she laughs as you walk to the car area.
- Let's just say your farewell party had an interesting conclusion. - she says mysteriously, making you laugh.
On the way to the cafeteria, while you are sitting in Katie's passenger seat, you check your cell phone. There are several generic notifications from your social networks, but then you are scrolling through your feed, and you see a picture of Lizzie in a photo essay and a smile escapes your lips without you realizing it.
- You're not sharing nudes in my car, are you?
You laugh without taking your eyes off the screen.
- Of course I am. - You joke, making Katie laugh.
- That explains the worshipful look. - She replies wryly and you blink confusedly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you block the cell phone screen.
- I don't know what you're talking about. - You deny it clumsily, and Katie makes an agreeing noise with her mouth. - I'm serious.
You say it, but it sounds like a joke, so Katie laughs lightly, but doesn't press the matter, so you don't either.
When you arrive at the cafeteria, you sit down at a table outside. 
- Now will you tell me who gave you those lovely marks on your neck? - Katie asks humorously a moment after your coffees arrive on the table. You choke in surprise, looking down quickly at your exposed collarbone.
- Oh my god. - You mumble clumsily at the reddish marks, and then you are quickly buttoning your shirt all the way up, while Katie laughs. 
- Don't worry, I don't think anyone will really notice if you keep your shirt buttoned. - She jokes and you groan in dissatisfaction, sipping some coffee.
- It's a good thing I'm done recording. - You comment. And then Katie gets an expectant look on her face and you sigh. - I slept with Floriana.
Katie lets out a surprised exclamation.
- Wow. - She comments with amusement. - I'm impressed, really.
- Shut up. - You retort clumsily, seeing her expression.
She laughs and then bites her lips.
- I guess it's only fair that I tell you to who I was with... - She starts, and you rest your face on your hand and your elbow on the table, waiting. - Melissa.
- No way. - You exclaim with excitement and surprise. And from Katie's flushed cheeks, you let out a giggle. - God, I worship you.
Katie laughed, sipping some of her coffee.
- Look at your face, you're in love! - You continue as you notice her shy posture, and Katie looks away, blushing even more. - McGrath, I'm impressed! Just don't forget to call me for the wedding.
Katie chuckles, shaking her head, slightly embarrassed by your enthusiasm. It takes a moment for you two to talk again.
- So you and Floriana. - Katie begins with a hint of a tone that makes you frown as you bite some toast. - Was all that smiling at your cell phone because of her?
You let out a dry laugh.
- As if. - You say, but regret it, swallowing hard. Because you remember what picture you were looking at. But you decide not to dwell on this thought right now. - Floriana is amazing, but it was just a one-night stand.
- So there is a second someone? - She asks curiously, and you feel your heart race, quickly denying it with your head. Katie smiles at you. - You are a terrible liar for an actress.
You laugh awkwardly, sipping your coffee. Katie is your friend, you trust her. But you don't know if you're exactly ready to have this kind of conversation at eleven o'clock in the morning. So when you don't say anything, she doesn't push. 
You eat again in silence for a few moments, until the subject turns to small talk. You leave the cafeteria together, and she drives you back to the hotel, commenting that she would miss working with you, and you joke that Melissa would keep her busy and distracted.
Present
You were waiting for the water to boil, while scrolling through your cell phone feed. You knew you shouldn't have, but you were reading the news about the homophobic interview that took place, and it wasn't hard to find many other journalists and even fans who agreed with the statements. You were frowning in anger and concern as you gnawed your thumbnail as you scrolled through the news, a bitter feeling in your stomach.
Distracted, you startled when you felt hands wrap around your waist, but your body relaxed completely afterwards, leaning against Lizzie's embrace as you quickly blocked the cell phone.
- Sorry did I wake you up? - You ask tenderly, turning your body to face her, and she has a sleepy face that makes your heart race.
- You didn't make a sound, but I missed your body in bed. - She clarifies by sinking her face into your neck, and you smile as you slip your arms around her shoulders. - Why are you awake?
You sigh softly. Sara's words spinning through your head. She was right, you needed to talk to Lizzie about this. It was something you two would go through together. Your hesitation made Elizabeth frown, and she pulled her body away only to raise her head in your direction. You smiled, breaking the embrace to put your hands on her face and caress her cheek.
- Let's have some tea and I'll tell you about it, okay? - You asked, and she looked mildly concerned but nodded, and then you walked away, back to the stove. 
When you both sat down in the living room, you took your seat next to her on the couch, entwining your hands as you told her what had happened. Lizzie frowned in surprise and disbelief, and you swallowed dryly, assuring her that she needn't worry about it, and that you would deal with this sort of thing together.
- There was also a stupid comment about how I'm going to ruin your career, so I'll understand if you think that's too much and…
Lizzie shook her head in disagreement, interrupting your monologue and reaching for your cup with her free hand. She placed hers and yours on the living room table, and then sat down on your lap, her hands on your cheeks.
- Don't say such things. - She asked seriously, but her eyes were kind. - You make me so happy. - She says with a smile and you let out a sigh of relief. - I'm not going anywhere, we'll face this together. Like you said. - She assures you, and you look at her adoringly. - I love you.
- I love you too. - You say with a smile, letting your hands enfold her in an embrace, which she responds to.
You stay like this for a moment, and then Lizzie pulls away to kiss you gently on the lips.
- You are still thinking about the things you have read, aren't you? - She asks next, and you sigh, agreeing with a nod. But then Lizzie advances to your mouth, kissing you briefly before biting your lip and letting go, causing you to moan softly. - Shall we focus on something else then?
- Yes, ma'am. - You answer half breathlessly as you let your fingers invade the fabric of her shirt, as you kiss her again. Your hands move up as you let your tongue wander over her lower lip, asking for passage. You both sigh as your tongues touch, and Lizzie runs a hand through your hair as she deepens the kiss.
When your hands reached her breasts, Lizzie gasped lightly against your mouth, and then you let your fingers caress the stiffened nipples, and she forced her hips down, breaking the kiss with a pained moan.
- You are so sensible, babe. - You teased softly, putting a little more pressure against her breasts. Lizzie bit her lips, making a sound with her throat as she shifted uncomfortably in your lap. You let out a cocky smile, feeling her heat on your lap. She was also wearing only a long shirt, and you could feel how wet she was against your thigh, the sensation giving you chills. - What is it, babe? - you ask, noticing the way she moves against your thigh trying to get some friction. - Do you want to be touch?
- Yes. - She moans softly, moving her hands to your shoulders, as she rubs herself against your skin. You groan, resisting the urge to close your eyes. You absolutely love it when Lizzie wiggle on top of you. 
You take your hands off her breasts to remove her blouse and then move forward, capturing the left nipple in your mouth, while playing with the other one using your fingers. Lizzie arches against you, closing her eyes tightly as she opens her mouth in a long moan.
You let your tongue circle her stiff nipple, and then suck, causing her to throw her head back as she rubs against you. You smile when you feel her lift a hand to your hair, her fingers stroking the back of your neck and forcing you against her.
But you move up your kisses, licking the skin as you make your way to her collarbone, picking out the spots that you know that leave her breathless to bite and suck.
Lizzie moans and whimpers next, and you hold her hips, making her movements more coordinated against you. She is dripping down your thigh, and she is so hot against you that the sensation leaves you breathless, but you kiss her anyway, enfolding her tongue with yours as you move your hands down to her ass, squeezing the flesh and drawing out a shuddering sigh from her.
It doesn't take long for her movements to run out of rhythm, and her body to start shaking in spasms. She separates your mouths to moan breathlessly, and you sigh, squeezing her ass to keep the rhythm against your thigh. 
- You feel so good babe. - You whisper against her ear. As her orgasm nears, and she can barely keep rubbing herself against you, her own body refusing to obey. You don't want her to stop though. So you use your right hand to slap her ass, and Lizzie lets out a loud moan as she buries her head in your neck. - Don't stop. - You command, and she whimpers, her body trembling, but she obeys with difficulty, her wet pussy vibrating against your thigh.
Once her body begins to betray her again, you slap her on the other side, the sound echoing in the room, and it’s all it takes for her to arches her back, throwing her head back as she screams your name in a sultry moan, cumming against your thigh. - You did great, baby. - You tell her tenderly as she falls back against you, the intensity of the orgasm leaving her bewildered. She smiles on your skin as you let your fingers caress her back.
- I like the slapping. - She confesses against your collarbone next. 
- Yeah, I noticed. - You play back, laughing lightly, and she follows. - We can try other things too.
Lizzie straightens up to look at you, her cheeks flushed, but her gaze curious.
- Really?
- Honey, we are married. - You tell her with a smile. - We have all the time in the world to try anything we want.
She smiles, and kisses you. Just as you are about to be carried away by the sensation, she pulls away, a mischievous smile on her lips.
- How do you feel about blindfolding?
Five years ago, California.
You are in love with Elizabeth Olsen. The realization took a long time to happen actually.
But here you were, sitting in one of the V.I.P boxes at San Diego Comic-con, listening to the announcement on the new Captain Marvel movie, while exchanging messages with your best friend.
And then Lizzie says something about having a date with a musician, and you are staring at the screen of the device, not answering for long minutes. A bitter feeling in the pit of your stomach. 
You should tell her that you were excited for her. That this was great, and that you hoped it would all work out. But none of it is true. And you swallow hard when you realize why. Blocking your cell phone immediately, you put it away in your pants pocket, running your hands through your hair quickly. You need a drink.
Many drinks later, there are very pretty girls in your dressing room. You think one of them looks like Lizzie, so you kiss her. The box is yours anyway, you don't have to worry.
Scarllet is calling you. And the insistent ringing of your cell phone makes you grumble as you wake up.
- It better be important. - You mutter in annoyance when you answer, and she lets out a giggle on the other end of the line.
- It's my birthday, so yes. 
This is how you show up hungover at a party a few hours later. All your cast mates are there. And you adjust your clothes and hair, trying to look more presentable. 
- Wow, you look incredibly well for someone who has only had three hours of sleep. - The redhead comments as soon as you hug her to wish her a happy birthday. After she called you, and you whined like a whiny, drunk child who had barely slept and is in love with your best friend, she insisted that you come to the party, and have a little self-love, as well as aggressively reminding you that you were still one of Hollywood's most eligible singles, and that you could meet someone else.
- I'd curse you, but you're the birthday girl. - You mumble with a smile. You then let her go, and signal that you need to drink some water. She pats you on the ribs as she goes to greet the other guests.
The hall she has found for the party is quite large, and there are several tables of appetizers throughout the place. You soon find a bottle of water.
You choke slightly as your gaze wanders around the room, and you see Elizabeth arriving. Absolutely stunning, the way that makes your heart race and your cheeks redden at the image of her exposed legs. But your mood quickly changes when you realize that unfortunately she is accompanied. You want to dig a hole in the ground, or maybe go back to your bed. This must be the musician she talked about. 
You really considered running away from the party, and dealing with Scarlett's irritation afterwards, but then your cast mates were greeting you afterwards, and you forced a smile. Despite being hungover, you accepted the drinks that the waiters offered you.
There is a notification on your cell phone that makes you lock your jaw. You loosen the knot of your tie, feeling suffocated as you rush to the bathroom. After splashing some water on your face, you take a deep breath. 
- I'll take care of it. - Sara says as soon as you send her the photo you received. - Don't make any statement about it.
You hang up the phone after thanking her. Taking one last look at the attachment, a picture of you blacked out in your comic con box, lipstick marks on your body and many bottles of booze beside you. 
Being famous was a shitty thing sometimes.
When you left the bathroom and returned to the lounge, your gaze wandered over the room, and you decided that your day couldn't get any worse. Lizzie's date had an arm around her shoulders, and was kissing her cheek tenderly. You kept your face impassive, walking over to Scarllet.
You thanked her for the invitation, and said that you had enjoyed the party, but that you were tired. After wishing her a happy birthday again, you left, without saying goodbye to anyone else, including Elizabeth.
That same night, when she texted you with mild irony that you had forgotten about her, you sent an emoji and lied, saying that it was the hangover's fault.
Five years and four weeks ago, backstage of The Tonight Show
- You were sweet back there. - Lizzie comments with a smile as you leave the interview and walk back to your dressing room. You frown in confusion, and she looks away, blushing slightly. - The compliments, I mean. It was nice.
She was talking about how you told Jimmy that she was amazing, and that anyone would be lucky to date her, but that person wasn't you. You shrugged.
- It's just the truth, Lizzie. - You shot back without looking at her. You didn't want to talk about it. Not when she doesn't feel the same way.
You've been distant. And you know she can tell, but you don't want to talk about it. And Lizzie doesn't press you, and so you nod slightly as you make your way to your dressing room, ignoring the longing you feel for the times when you used to come back from interviews with inside jokes and banter, or how you used to go to each other's dressing rooms. You need to forget those things, because as long as you feel this way about her, you can't have that.
Four years ago, LA.
You let out a satisfied groan as you feel Lizzie's hands run up your back, her nails scratching your skin. She sighs when you bite her neck. 
Maybe you are moving too fast, because it has only been three hours since you confessed your feelings, but technically you have been in love for two years so time is relative.
You suck on a sensitive spot on Lizzie's neck, and she digs her nails into your skin, moaning softly as her legs close around your waist. She is sitting on the kitchen counter. You both ended up in this position after you two entered her house, and after you talked for a while, and watched some TV, you thought about preparing something to eat. But then Lizzie sat down on the counter, and you thought she was irresistible. And here you were, about to cross an important line in a fairly new relationship.
You let your hands rest on her thighs, enjoying the warmth of her body. Moving your kisses up her jaw to her mouth, you let your tongue wander slowly across her mouth, trembling slightly at the sensation.
When air was needed again, you let your forehead rest on hers.
- Maybe we should slow down. - You comment breathlessly, with your eyes closed. Lizzie bites her lower lip, pulling away.
- Yeah. - She agrees in the same state, her pupils dilated.
- I wouldn't want to rush things and ruin everything. - You explain managing to reason better when the distance is greater. She smiles, nodding in agreement. The next kiss she gives you is more innocent, though just as good as all the others.
You end up cooking for both of you next. And you don't mind when Lizzie is recording for her instagram.
//-//
The object in your pocket weighs all the way through the restaurant, and you try not to think about it too much.
It is during dessert that you take out the velvet box, ignoring the trembling of your own hand as you hold it out to the woman sitting in front of you.
- I know we are taking things slowly. - You start with a shy smile, feeling your heart racing. - But I would like you to be my girlfriend. Would you?
- I thought I was the romantic in this relationship. - Lizzie teases, her eyes filling with tears, and you laugh, shrugging your shoulders. - Of course i would, Y/N. 
It is a very beautiful and discreet ring. You eventually decide that she will not wear it on her ring finger so as not to generate unwanted attention. 
You have some wine to celebrate, and on the way back you feel your face heat up when your chauffeur exchanges a complicit look in the rear view mirror with you just after Lizzie lets out a loud sigh when she feels your hands inside her blouse. You and she giggle as he lifts the window of the limo to give you some privacy, and then you are kissing again.
//-//
You're not sure if "puppy dog eyes" is in the script, but you know that's exactly how you're looking at Lizzie right now.
She was absolutely irresistible when characterized as Wanda Maximoff, and you couldn't look at her any other way. Which was a good thing, because your character was just as much in love as you were.
- Girls, that was amazing! - congratulated the director as soon as the scene was over. You and Lizzie exchanged embarrassed glances. - I understand why people say that you are America's sweet couple, the previous shot is perfect. That look you gave Lizzie, Y/N, is flawless.
You just thanked him for the compliment, smiling shyly. When you returned to your dressing room, your girlfriend accompanied you.
- Flawless look eh? - She sneered with a cocky smile, and you laughed, throwing yourself down on the couch. 
- Don't get so full of yourself. - You replied as you lay back down and closed your eyes. Footage was tiresome. - It was just Vision looking at Wanda.
- Oh yes. - She pretended to agree as she walked over to you. You let out a surprised exclamation when you felt her sit on your lap, opening your eyes and smiling. - And how does Y/N look at Elizabeth Olsen?
She teased, with a challenge in her gaze. You bit your lips, letting your hands move up her thighs to her waist.
- That's a tough one. - You commented with a mischievous smile, as you moved your hands to unbutton her blouse. - Like she owns my life, probably. - You joke as you open a button. - Or maybe as if she has me in the palm of her hand, as she does. - Elizabeth looks at you with dark pupils, holding her breath in anticipation for your hands undressing her. - Or as if she were the woman of my life. 
Lizzie makes a noise of agreement, smiling at you.
- And what else?
You smile, unbuttoning another button, and letting your fingers invade her blouse, caressing her breast over her bra, making Lizzie bite her lip to hold back an moan.
- As if...
A ringing noise at the door startles you. Lizzie quickly starts to button her blouse as she stands up. You let out a grumble of dissatisfaction and also stand, making sure your girlfriend is properly dressed before you open the door.
- Honey, we need to discuss some details about... Oh, hello, Elizabeth. - Sara looks surprised to see your colleague in your dressing room, and you're just surprised to see your agent. She smiles at you both as she enters without waiting for an invitation, a sharp look on her face. - Should I come back another time if you're busy?
You feel your face heat up at the hint of Sara and do your best to hide it, shaking your head. Lizzie hurries to smile good-bye, and resists the urge to kiss you when she walks through the door. Sara doesn't notice the closeness of your faces when Lizzie leaves because she’s walking over to the sofa.
- What do you want to talk about? - you ask as you close the door.
- I brought you your new contract, dear. - She says, smiling cheerfully as she opens her purse. - I hope you're looking forward to it.
You let out a sigh, sitting down in the armchair across from her, and reaching out to grab the item she offers you. 
While you read the text superficially, Sara informs you that with this contract you can retire in style. Famous series pay very well. You bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to reject. You would spend at least six months recording around the world. Without Lizzie.
Your lack of animation doesn't go unnoticed by your agent.
- Honey, it's Game of Thrones. - she recalls with excitement. - There is no better opportunity. I don't understand your face.
You force yourself to smile, running your hands through your hair.
- I'm just tired, Sara. - You lie. - Of course I'm happy.
She looks at you suspiciously for a few seconds, but then shrugs her shoulders, believing you.
- I know the recording time is long, but you will have almost two years to prepare. - She says while tapping on her cell phone. You make a nodding noise with your mouth, not feeling the least bit excited about the story. But work is work.
After Sara leaves with your signed contract, you bury your face in the sofa cushion.
//-//
Lizzie is happy for you, even though she knows she will miss you. 
You told her that in a year and a half you would be traveling for months to shoot Game of Thrones and she was impressed and proud. You simply wished to be with her.
Moments like now, sitting on the couch sharing a bucket of popcorn while watching trashy television are simply amazing.
After the newspaper was over, you suggested that you watch a movie. And you put on this stupid action thing, and were enjoying the plot when you were surprised by a hot sex scene.
You felt your face heat up slightly, because you and Lizzie had not yet crossed that line in your relationship.
It was understandable, since you were taking things slowly. And well, in a week you would have been dating for a month. You had a reservation at a nice restaurant, and a separate outfit. You weren't actively planning a first time, but you figured that you simply couldn't resist much longer as your make-out sessions got hotter and hotter.
And now, with Lizzie lying on your lap while you're on the couch, it was hard to ignore a scene like that and not feel anything, especially since your girlfriend was stroking your hand intertwined with hers that was resting on her belly with her thumb.
And then, as if guessing your line of thought, Lizzie dragged your hand down to the hem of her shirt. You held your breath, keeping your eyes on the television.
She kept her hand on top of yours as she reached into her own shirt, and let out a sigh as she moved your hand up to her breast. You just rested your hand there for a few seconds, licking your lips in anticipation. And then you straightened your posture slightly, using your other hand to pull Lizzie's hair out of her back and forward, while you moved your face closer and kissed the back of her neck. You couldn't see it, but you knew that her eyes were closed.
And then you squeezed your hand on her breast, and she moaned. The sound made your core vibrate. 
- Are you sure? - You whispered against her ear, letting your free hand rest on her waist.
- Yes. - Lizzie answered hoarsely, and then you were pulling your hand away from her breast.
- Bedroom. 
You clarified and she nodded frantically. You didn't even bother to turn off the television, stumbling out of the room toward the stairs, holding hands but not kissing, you didn't want to take Lizzie for yourself on the floor. Not on your first time.
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mirrorforevers · 4 years ago
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heavenly nobodies (or “the fog”) • graham/reader
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this is a bit heavier than usual, ladies. proceed w caution. tw for mentions of abusive relationships, drug abuse and reader has no self-esteem at all. nothing too descriptive in that sense though
on a lighter note, reader n graham are basically two lost adults acting like petty children
a quick disclaimer: its not my intention in *any way* to glorify or romanticize drug abuse or basically anything any of these characters do - its messed up shit. this is fiction, don't take it seriously, please
if this fic was a song, even though its titled after a lush song, it would be lark by angel olsen i guess. might have a sequel someday i dunno
+18, as always. contains smut. this is sososososo long and has went through so many rewrites im sorry. but i do think its my best fic yet!
set in the mid 90s
word count: 3.780
You still remember the day it began.
A nasty fight took place between Graham and Alex. You only got involved because your relationship became one of the topics of the heated debate. Long story short, Graham basically screamed at you two that you, Y/N, were wasting your life away by dating someone like James.
At first you were blind with rage and defended your decadent relationship while insulting Coxon until your throat burned from the screaming match, but afterwards, after you caught yourself thinking a little too long about how James' eyes sometimes seemed to hover over you with an indifference Coxon's never, ever showed, and how it hurt to see Alex in the arms of an entire sea of more attractive women than you - and how shallow you've become for even trying to excuse his behavior with something as empty as the fact you weren't as stereotypically beautiful as the other girls he screwed, you noticed something wasn't quite right about the entire situation, but you still felt shivers at the prospect of telling him you were sorry. He also had a lot to apologize for.
The fog. That's what's been messing with your mind lately. And Graham's. And everyone else's.
It's hard to think about things clearly as they happen in your life when all you feel during most of it is hedonistic, empty bliss. Everything moves in slow motion. The regret, the harsh words, always come afterwards, like a sudden car crash, after people realize the very real consequences of what they said and done while they were immersed in their own very temporary, elusive, pleasures. The fog also made you bitter - not only you, but Graham, Alex and the other boys as well; your relationship with them as a group of friends and individually, each in a different way, consequently turned into a toxic, resentful mess of chaotic feelings and unresolved conflicts. Your relationship with Graham was by far the most affected.
You grew up together. You went to the same college. You very briefly had a thing. He drew you lots and lots of times, you haven't lost a drawing. You realized you didn't love him like *that* and he was okay with it. You were still as close as ever.
Then you met his other friends. In the beginning, he was so excited about this whole "band" thing. The boys were funny, compelling, undoubtedly hard to deal with sometimes, but you got them quickly. Their music very gradually became successful - they deserved it. They sounded so good together. You noticed Graham was a bit jealous of how you interacted with the other boys sometimes. Damon and Dave were the first ones who tried (hard) to bed you, but Alex, effortlessly, was the one who got to.
One night turned into two, three, fifteen. Then into a fucked up prototype of a relationship around the time their stages got bigger, more packed with screaming teenagers and all of you met her – heroin. Graham got proportionally and gradually more distressed and anxious each day. You didn't know which one of these things disturbed him the most, after all, he didn't speak to you (or anyone, for fuck's sake) like he used to. Thousands of little things began to intercalate and swallow everything you've built together.
You've started to hate him - he refused to speak to you about what was bothering him, and you barely talked outside of the inevitable circumstances. Meanwhile, Alex dragged you even deeper into his questionable lifestyle and you shrinked into it until you could pretend it fit you like a glove. You felt so small. Invisible to everything and everyone who truly mattered, even to yourself. You tried to reach out to the one who mattered most plenty of times, but every time you tried to reach out to him it would end up in screams and even more resentment. It seemed like there was no way back - he hated you as well because he thought you were just like Alex. It felt like a knife was twisted in your stomach when he said it the first time. You pretended it didn't hurt the other ones - those were the nights your binges were the worst and you'd vomit yourself to sleep, though.
Everything was leading you to one of those nights again, until you heard a knock on your door. At this time of night, it was definitely Alex.
You tried to tidy yourself up as much as you could in a matter of a few minutes. You thought you weren't as effortlessly beautiful as the other women in his life - as if cheating had something to do with appearance and not with his character, but oh well - and you felt like you had to at least try to keep up with their pace. You washed your face, smeared some foundation on some old stretch (and track) marks and tried to pretend his presence was the brightest spot on your day. He disguised so much criticism under the pretense of worry, leaving you feeling so bad about yourself, but you needed his approval like you needed air on your lungs (or opioids on your veins) for some reason you couldn't quite explain.
You open the door, holding your breath while you tried to ignore the pit that grew on your stomach just to find out that...
"Graham?" You were simultaneously relieved and revolted to see him on your door. Adrenaline ran through your veins. You didn't realize how afraid you were of him - you've only hurt one another with words, but still, you were afraid to cross eyes with him just because you felt like it would start another fight and you would simply never speak to each other ever again, not even to fight. You were afraid of how deep your friendship has corroded.
He was visibly hurting, just like you. It comforted and hurt you to see it.
"You were waiting for him, weren't you?" He noted, vaguely motioning towards the lipstick on your lips. You felt pathetic.
"What are you doing here?" You quickly wiped the lipstick off your lips while he looks around, not really knowing what to answer. His eyes, puffy, somehow indicated he wasn't there to say he was sorry. At that point, you didn't even cared who was in the wrong. You just wanted to know why he was there.
"Just came here to tell you that... I'm leaving Blur, and... I'll be moving to Germany with a friend. Tomorrow."
"What kind of joke is this?"
"I wanted to tell you because... I felt like we got so used to each other's presence t-that... even if you're relieved by the news, uh, I think you should know in advance."
There was no mischief in his eyes. There was no point in joking with something like that. It's not like you were comfortable enough with each other to joke with each other nowadays anyway. That realization crushed you and anchored you to the very confusing and tragic reality just laid out in front of you.
It was so uncharacteristic. You knew of his tendency to run away from these types of situations and this time he simply didn't. Your mouth refused to close. "I-I don't understand. You... You can't... You can't just do that. You have a fucking gig tomorrow!"
"I won't justify myself to you. Just... take care of yourself and... don't let that leech suck the life out of you more than he already did."
"You don't understand. You don't understand anything. Is this about him? Again?" In yet another wave of adrenaline, you pulled him inside your flat and he just lets you. "Are you moving to bloody Germany because of what went on between us today?!"
"I don't care that you don't love me. I care that I can't go for a fucking day without seeing you waste away your life with him. If he was someone that made you happy... but he's just killing you. I can't deal with that."
Still in shock, you pulled him in a desperate kiss. It was not an attempt of making him stay, but something else entirely new. He had to say he was leaving so you could really know, in a matter of a few seconds, how much you needed him there.
His reciprocity simultaneously broke your heart and filled it with hope - you knew how far your relationship with Alex went and how tough it would be to break free from the chains he's got your heart tangled in, but at the same time, Coxon kissed you in a way no one else ever did. He loved you like no one else could. And that's how you noticed how easily you clinged to any sign of true affection given how much Alex's been neglecting your emotional and physical needs lately. Everything was about him all the time, it was a monologue. Graham and you had a conversation.
(A conversation that lasted all night. Thankfully, Alex didn't show up. He must've been talking to someone else.)
Instead of sweet nothings and love confessions, funnily enough, you and Graham exchanged soft "I hate you"s after the deed was done. You both hated the situation you were in. Hated that even though the passion burned hot as fire between you, you were stuck in a mess bigger than everything that just went through both of you. But never each other. You just couldn't name the feeling right.
Perhaps needless to mention, he stayed in the United Kingdom. Instead of sitting and talking like adults about what you felt about each other though, the bickering somehow became even worse.
Of course you started to take his side on fights more often. Mock Alex's behavior together more often. Something definitely changed between the two of you, but it still wasn't enough. Graham was still furious that you wouldn't give up on James. You were still furious that he wouldn't take your relationship with Alex seriously. It had its many faults, yes, but it was special in a way no one else grasped and you were raised to think that people shouldn't give up on others that easily, a convention that no modern deconstruction of social norms could take out of you out of a sudden. Not even Graham. But instead of raising your voices and breaking things around you, you've found other means to release the tension between you. Usually in dark corners of untidy pubs, his flat or yours. It became so frequent it didn't need any planning anymore.
Following the opposite path of the earlier days of your animosity, the more intense the fights got now, the lower your voices got. Instead of distancing yourselves from each other in the middle of screams, your bodies got closer like magnets. He could be so tender somehow even when his words stung like venom.
You were living and breathing contradictions. Him in the way he conveys his hopeless submissiveness to you in the way every touch of yours breaks him and the way he just isn't able to cum if he sees you're not having enough pleasure, yet he fucks you like he wants it to hurt and pretends nothing happened after you're done; and you in the way you cling to him like he's your lifeline when he's deep inside of you but isn't hesitant to not look him in the eye on some other nights.
The night of one of the parties thrown by Blur's record company following the release of The Great Escape wasn't one of the latter.
While the lower floor of the venue is frenetic with people immersed in different levels of ecstasy caused by all sorts of different substances, the upper floor is reserved to the lovers, or people who were looking for a calmer place to talk or to relatively safely de-escalate from their highs. You, on the other hand, just wanted to run away from the view of Alex kissing another woman in the event he brought you to. You were almost falling asleep in one of the tiny, dimly lit and cramped rooms when a small, familiar voice woke you up. "Why aren't you downstairs with your future husband?"
You feel aloof. The slightest mention of the one you think you love disgruntles you. "Ugh. I should have known it was you," you grumble, giving him room to share the sofa with you. "You know why."
"I don't. Someone once told me I don't understand anything." He accepts the offer almost unconsciously. It's so interesting to see how his actions contradict his words and posture, just like your actions contradict yours.
"I'm still right about that. Why did you come here? To mock me?"
"You're lost."
"And so are you. Don’t talk. I don’t want to hear it."
"Do you want me to leave?" he asks, calmly, knowing what the answer will be.
It's always a no.
You instinctively move closer to him, as if he's about to disappear in a cloud of dust in any moment. You don't ever want him to leave.
He notices your eyes are glistening when your lips touch, so smoothly and in such a tender way. His hands enter your hair, just below your ears, and you melt at his touch all over again.
The kiss starts out slow, then becomes more and more intense. His tongue slides against yours and you whine, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to this earth. It becomes so easy to let him settle between your thighs. He runs one of his large hands through your hair, fists it, and pulls your head so he can have easier access to your neck, filling it with open-mouthed kisses. “Why the fuck,” you manage to murmur in between heavy breaths, “do you care so much about me?”
He doesn't answer. His fingers trace the hem of your dress instead, skimming up the side of your leg. You whimper as he moves them over the sensitive skin to the apex of your thighs, his lips finding the side of your throat again. He sucks a mark into your skin just as his thumb caress your core so lightly above your underwear and you whisper, voice trembling with desire: "You're so much better than him."
He's not sure if you're just leading him on, and neither are you. He doesn't even know if he has heard it right. The fog really blurs every line. Reason, feelings, motives. "You never cried over me", he answers, seeking to turn that reality around, it seemed. Your hips buck into his touch, and a moan escapes you when his hand coyly seeks direct contact with your clit, stimulating it with precision from the start. "You truly... don't know shit," you gasp, grinding harder against his touch and losing yourself to his ministrations, the fog of an earlier hit helping in enveloping you in a state of so much bliss.
"Do you want me to lock the door?" His raspy voice takes you out of this world. You nod, a little disappointed by having such a great feeling interrupted for the sake of privacy. Your lips were spit-slick and pinkened, your eyes half lidded. The sight made Graham breathe hard through his nose, but he somehow kept his composure. When he goes to lock the door, you couldn't help noticing the tent you helped build in his jeans. You feel proud of yourself.
He returns with the hungry kisses and eager touches, slowly driving you crazy all over again. His kisses lower down, down... and you pat his shoulders, motioning for him to stop. "I want to make you feel good tonight." He accepts the offer.
You scooch downwards, just above his hips, and you pull his pants and the waistband to his briefs down in one swift motion. He's painfully hard, but that was hardly a surprise. Graham straightens his back just in time to watch you take the reddened head of his cock into your mouth. He claps a hand over his mouth, hips bucking upwards into the wet heat instinctively, your warm breath enveloping his dick and clouding his mind.
Wrapping your fingers around it, you gently jerk him off, slowly sliding your hand from the tip back to the base. He groans, watching you as you fill his senses with a dull warmth. You stare back at him, smiling as he groans at your warm breath.
You run the tip of your index finger tentatively along the underside of his cock, watching with fascination as his cock twitches and reacts to your presence. You lean forward, breathing on the head before planting a soft kiss on the tip. Coxon whimpers, his dick aching from your attention. Tired of the teasing, you begin stroking it, your soft fingers loosely bouncing along his shaft. He leans his head back to the ceiling when you kiss the tip again.
You eye his cock excitedly, before you lean forward and lick his head, swirling your tongue around the crown and flicking it across the tip. His hips thrust forward before you can even react, his mind reeling as your tongue slowly traces along a vein you followed from the head all the way to the base. He groans, and was about to say something when his mind went blank. He sees pure white, his brain shutting down almost completely as you wrap your mouth around the end of his cock and set a steady rhythm to the oral stimulation. His chest rumbles as a deep growl of satisfaction leaves him, shaking through the air, the vibrations in your mouth punctuating his growl with a hiss.
He cracks his eyes open, his glazed eyes staring down to find you staring directly at him. The sight of his rigid cock vanishing between your soft lips made his skin crawl. He groans heavily, grasping your head on instinct and thrusting forward.
You gasp lightly as he shoves himself deeper inside your mouth, pushing against your throat. He moans your name desperately, panting heavily as his hips automatically thrust against you. You stand firm, keeping only the front half of his cock in your mouth, slithering your tongue against the crown and watching intently for his reactions. He was close, his mind firmly on fire as his body reacted on autopilot, trying to extract as much pleasure as possible. He could feel his climax approaching, your soft lips and gentle eyes coaxing him on. You look into his eyes and give an experimental bob of your head, taking him further into your mouth. Feeling the characteristic salty taste of precum on your tongue, you take your mouth off his cock, and before his mind is able to form a cohesive sentence of protest, you take off your underwear and sit on his lap. His hands now squeeze your hip, pulling you closer. Your wetness leaves a bit of a trail on his legs before you sink on his hard, already lubricated cock.
"You're addicted to my cock, aren't you," It's fascinating how Graham's behavior changes when he's drunk. In the best and worst ways. He would never say something like that while sober. You nod in agreement, face flush with arousal and need. "He can't even fuck you," he punctuactes with an especially hard thrust, "like I can." he envelops you in a sort of hug as his broad shoulders and arms now dictate the rhythm you both follow.
"He--c-an't, fuck--"
"Do you think," he takes his entire cock out of you just so he can go even deeper when he says, "he'll hear us... if you say my name out loud?" he smiles when a loud moan escapes your lips, feeling completely in control of your body. You can't even talk anymore, just nod, like a marionette.
"So say it." Another thrust. And another. And another. You follow his pace with your hips religiously, not even slightly ashamed of making the name of the one who's giving you so much pleasure public, as he commanded. You take the last atom of control on your body and direct it to your pussy, clenching your walls tighter around him, an action that successfully tears his thoughts apart, making his eyebrows furrow and his mouth, agape. One of his hands move to the middle of your bodies and, as he looks down at where your bodies meet, begins to stimulate your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts. His groans turn louder when your body moves towards his again, and the sound of your moans, along with the sound of skin against skin and your ragged breaths were the only thing you were able to hear, along with the distant sound of It Could Be You playing in the background.
In a daze, he says your name in that unique way that only he knew how to - like it was part of a prayer and your body was his God(dess). You dig your nails into his back while he fucks you without a trace of mercy. You close your eyes, losing yourself in all those sensations as Graham continued his movements. When he punctuates his now even faster thrusts with a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck" - that's when you know he's close, a suspicion confirmed true as he comes hard inside of you, closing his eyes tightly as he reached his climax. You follow him seconds later.
When he recovers enough to be able to breathe calmly and control his heartbeat, Graham rests his chin on your shoulder. Neither of you say anything for a long time.
And when the spasms of pleasure are gone, Graham's brain decides to go back to work and he realizes what had just happened - again. Suddenly, the sensation of bliss is accompanied by that weird sensation of "What do I do now?". He carefully removes his dick from you and pulls his jeans up, zipping up his pants while you straighten your dress and search for your panties in the middle of the dark. Both without saying a single word.
Graham clears his throat, glancing at the mirror behind the door and seeing his state was deplorable. His face reddened by the heat and his hair a perfect mess. You were in no better situation than him.
“Uh,” Graham said a long time later, breaking the silence. “How long is that arrangement supposed to last?”
"I won't count the time." You responded calmly. 
He nods, mystified by you. 
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Text
Dead Karamel Fics Club
So, I was talking with a @raisedbyfandomwolves about the karamel fics ideas we are never going to write and I’m going to kill you with one of my ideas.
The title: DEAD TO THE WORLD
Theme song:
Deathwish without a prayer
End of hope
End of love
End of time
The rest is silence 
*evil laugh*
It starts sometime after s3. Mon-El for a few years is in the future and exploring with his Legion friend Sal the ruins of National City (most of the humanity lives in the flying cities, because the future, bitches!, and most of the earth is destroyed).
Suddenly Sal calls him, because he finds intact newspaper. Mon grabs it but it turns to dust, but before he manages to make a hologram of the first page with his ring.
The article written by James Olsen is about Supergirl’s heroic death.
In their Legion headquarters he, Sal and Brainiac are talking about the article. Mon notices some of the facts in the article are different than in the past he remembers, also Kara should not be dead on that moment aka someone is screwing the timeline.
He demands (aka showing Brainiac into the wall and threatening to murder him with cold blood) to be sent into the past. Sal agrees to come with him.
The problem is, the device Brainiac offers is not good – it can bring you back once and then goes poof!. Also, they can’t take anything with them aka they end naked *Terminator’s theme in the background*. So, no legion rings. Also, they may or may not turn into a cloud made of molecules.
Mon of course doesn’t give a fuck but promises he won’t contact Kara or superfriends to not fuck the timeline more. Because they can’t take anything with them, Brainiac tattoos how to make the device on Mon’s back.
Before they are sent, they drink some rum and holds hands and byeeee, Brainiac Mon and Sal to the past.
What happens?
A lot can happen in 5 seconds.
In the first second, you can open your eyes and see darkness. You can realize you are levitating in air. You can also realize you are completely naked. In the second, you can fall down. In third, you can make a hole in the roof of a henhouse and be a cause of a collective heart attack of 20 poor chickens. In the fourth you can throw up the aldebaran rum you so unwisely drunk before Brainy sent your ass back into the past. In the fifth you can moan the one and only fitting word:
“Fuck.”
There is no Sal in the sight. Did he turn into a dust? Stay tuned!
Because I have amazing sense of humor, Mon is found by an old lady who is the owner of the henhouse. She aims a shotgun at him, while he, covers himself with a chicken and explains himself.
Because the lady is bored and she doesn’t see hot naked guys, she clothes him, feeds him and borrows some money for the bus to NC. In exchange, he fix some shit in her house.
In NC Kara is in her depressed mood that becomes worse, because sometimes she hears Mon’s hearbeat *sad violin music*
Mon is proceeding with his investigation but sometimes can’t help himself and watches her from some afar. So yeah, she really hears his hearbeat. Oh the ANGST.
He contacts… Lobotomizer (when I was developing this story I still didn’t mind her….). He explains her everything, shows her his mighty naked back and she promises making the device.
Then he is caught by *the drums* yes, you guessed right! Sal his pal, who is a Dxamite who survived the invasion (all his other friends-soldiers breathed too many lead and died) but was sucked by the same portal as Mon.
He is also *more drums* the guard who saved Mon on Daxam and yes! He wants revenge! Cold ass revenge! Because he blames Mon for his bro death, his chomik death (hamster on Daxam, Sal calls his Bob), his blah blah *villains bullshit* and will kill and destroy everything Mon’s love. Aka Kara :)
Mon somehow escapes the cage and runs to Kara who sees him for the first time, smiles and… ends dead, stabbed by a kryptonite blade. She dies in Mon’s arms and he blames himself, because I’m a cold bitch without a heart.
He thinks it’s all his fault and goes to Lena who gives him the time travel device. Instead of the future he goes to the past, to Daxam, the morning it is destroyed. He kills himself, because I’m super duper ass cold bitch. His guard tries to save him, but before he kills the Kryptonian, Mon-El stops him and allows the shocked ambassador to escape. Maybe, the guard accidentally shots him. Mon holds the face of his guard in his palms, says it’s the only way and embraces. And then kaboooom, all die.
Kara wakes up in the present, woken up by another nightmare, when she sees a strange random Daxamite guy who looks a little familiar but she can’t recall him.
Then Sal, who was sleeping beside her, because I’m a cruel horrible human being, wakes up, asks if it was a nightmare and they cuddle and come back to sleep, but Kara is still weirded out.
There is an implication Sal remembers the other timeline and everything what has happened.
THE END
Joking, I was thinking about part two, where Sal tries to prevent Kara from restoring her memories and shit happens, but because the power of love!, she does and then tries to save Mon-El. Not necessarily she would succeed because I really wanted to make this story horrible :P
Soooo, karamel fic writers! Do you have abandoned fic ideas? Care to share?!
Also, @raisedbyfandomwolves I’m challenging you to share your idea. MUHAHAAHH!
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Given that fandom has decided to be aggressively negative this season, I figured I’d carve out a little corner of positivity for myself, so. Here we are. Stuff I liked about Supergirl ep. 6x02 “A Few Good Women”
Spoilers!
I’m not really a fan of vampires but you know what I am a fan of? Deep comics cuts! The planet of Transilvane and its vampiric inhabitants were introduced in Superman’s Pal Jimmy Olsen #142-143, written by Jack Kirby!
I like the effect they’re using on Kara’s eyes in the Phantom Zone. It’s both creepy and cool.
Personally, I thought the way they set up the courtroom was a really nice work-around for Covid restrictions. 
As always, I am forced to admit that I enjoy seeing Lex and Lillian snark and yell at each other.
But also yes. I am...ready to be done with the Luthors.
All three of them honestly.
And then we got PAPA ZOR-EL.
He is a space dad, but not a Space Dad. 
In addition to Nu!Zor (Now with more facial hair!) we got a little bit of...I think it’s “You Will Do Extraordinary Things” and of course, everyone’s fav, “Harnessing Anger”. Love that good score.
(I’ll get to Kara in a sec, I wanna have space to ramble.)
Mmmm, some other good stuff...
Oh, of course. ACTUAL SPACE DAD!
AND M’GANN!
I love that M’gann has stuck around at the outset of this season. IDK if she’s set to appear beyond this initial stretch, but man, I wish she would.
Like yes, it’s a whole other character they have to serve in an already large ensemble cast, but she brings such a nice energy to the group, and plays well off of J’onn. 
I diiiiiiig it. 
Also, she knows the Super Friends well, in that she correctly assessed that they needed pizza after their defeat.
BUT BRAINY JUST RUINED THAT PIZZA BY HOISTING THE BOX VERTICALLY BOY WHAT ARE YOU DOING????
And J’onn. DEAR J’ONN. CELESTIAL FATHER. DEEPLY CONCERNED FOR THE SAFETY OF HIS KIDDO.
*through the tears* We love to see it. 
Okay, backtracking a little...
It’s not intentional, but I kinda chuckled, because after everyone being like, ‘The Phantom Zone is hell!!!’ all throughout the episode, it was funny that Nia dreamt of a giant ‘Midvale High School’ sign while trying to find Kara in the simulation. Like, yes, actually, High School is Hell.
Again, not what they were going for, but. Still. Funny.
Oh! Also! Brainy’s pep talk with Nia was very nice! 
“She’s more than just Supergirl. She’s Kara. She’s our beacon through the darkness.”
*with quiet reverence* Yeah.
Also loved the reminder that the Legion is inspired not by Superboy, but by Supergirl in this universe. 
We didn’t have a ton of Will content but I like what we got! 
Okay, time to talk about Kara.
OUR POOR KID.
But also yes, yes, what a beautiful statement on Kara as a character, and what motivates her. What pushes her forward.
Kara fights. Kara is not content to sit around and...how does she phrase it. ‘Exist for the sake of it.’ She does not allow the difficulties she’s faced in life to stop her. 
The fandom always wants her to dwell on her anger and sadness but that’s just not WHO SHE IS as a character. She told J’onn, waaaaaaay back in season one, AND I QUOTE:
“I lost everything. It makes a hole in your heart, but you can’t fall into it. You have to fill it. You have to fight.”
So I’m sorry, fandom, but your cries of OOC and whatnot are just. Incorrect.
And then there’s the Phantom showdown which is fine (we get a nice pep talk from Alex) and SPEAKING OF, towards the end of the episode, we get...
ALEX’S FEEEEEEEELINGS
She’s feeling them and they hurt.
Like. A lot.
Also, saddest pile of potstickers.
(Thinking about Alex chucking the takeout container reminded me of the previous scene where Brainy also physically reacts and delivers the excellent line: These 21st century keyboards SUCK!)
(Yeah man, get a mechanical keyboard with cherry MX switches, none of that low profile membrane nonsense.)   
Overall, I really enjoyed this episode. It had more of that, ‘fresh’, new season feeling, and still maintained the Good Character Content. I’m wondering if maybe budget constraints due to Covid stuff will make for less action set pieces and more character stuff overall? That would be kind of nice! I guess we’ll see, going forward.
Just a few negatives, IMO: the dialogue kinda felt hit-or-miss. Like, there were some really wonderful, solid bits, but then you’d get some weird stuff that didn’t quite land right. Like, I watched this episode twice just to be sure I was catching everything/not missing something because I was tired and...IDK there was just some clunky stuff.
And I will admit that I agree with fandom on one thing: I did kinda want to see Alex tell Kelly. 
But, okay, having said that, I do not think it ruins the show, or that it’s disrespectful, or whatever other complaints fandom is inventing and screaming at the people running the social media accounts.
(The level of entitlement whilst we’re still in the MIDST OF A PANDEMIC is gross.) 
(Also their solution of, ‘just take time from this one character and give it to my fav!’ is obnoxious.) 
To loop it around back to something nice! I hope they continue to develop something with Kara and William. Even if it’s just as friends. (Which would be a cowardly cop-out! But I refuse to get my hopes up, given what happened with James.)
EITHER WAY, it would be really lovely to have a nice, chill situation where Kara could reveal her identity to someone because she wants to tell them.
SO ANYWAYS
Yeah! Good ep! I liked it! 
Do we think Sad Dad is the Real Deal? OR a nefarious Phantom fabricating a friendly, familiar, familial face? I guess we’ll see!
Next week: GET IN LOSERS, WE’RE GOING PHANTOM HUNTING. 
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blkmxrvel · 4 years ago
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Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (24) - [CONVERTED]
Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader
Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?
Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.
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She had expected the courtroom to look… just like that, a courtroom. A vast expanse of rule and punishment, dark woods and a high bench in the center from which the judge would condemn them all.
She had probably watched way too much television, Kara decided, or it could be because only the major cases were tried in the main courtroom down the hall. Most, such as domestic disputes or “severed claims” (such a distasteful phrase, Kara thought) were heard in 203Left. It was little more than a boardroom, with 3 tables pushed together in an open-ended square, and the gallery was three or four rows of metal chairs sat towards the back of the room. Two members of the council sat in the very back row, a presence Kara noticed with a slight tinge of fear.
“Are you sure I can’t go up there with her?” she whispered to Lena, who was sat beside her in the first row.
She looked so vulnerable, Kara thought, flanked on either side by her lawyer and Sam… and him directly in front of her.
James Olsen didn’t look like a man capable of making a young girl’s life a living hell, and that, Kara knew, was because Alex had done a good job prepping him. Clean-shaven, hair cut short. His suit was dark, but not so dark as to give off the impression of “bad guy,” impeccably tailored and well-fitting. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood table the only indication that he was the accused.
He looked, Kara thought, like a little boy in a man’s clothes. And that, she knew, was what had started it all.
She shook her head and turned her attention back to the girl who mattered most, the girl who was staring at her with eyes wide and somewhat fearful. Kara smiled reassuringly, wishing with everything she had that she could go up there to her, to hold her in her arms and whisper that it was all going to turn out all right.
Except she didn’t know if it would.
Sam had helped Y/N dress for the trial as well, a move that Kara knew was just as calculated as Alex’s. She didn’t like it, because the white short-sleeve peasant shirt and black pants, along with a simple pair of black tennis shoes and Y/N’s hair held back on one side by a bow-shaped clip, made Y/N look even younger, smaller, more lost than what Kara knew she was.
Even if, just two nights ago, she’d been afraid Y/N had become lost to her forever.
Kara had known, from the moment she’d walked down the hall to her bedroom and found Y/N staring at her collection of punishment implements, hand held fast but shaking against the cabinet door, what the young woman had been thinking of. It had tempered Kara’s anger, somewhat, at her things having been gone through without permission, but it had been exacerbated, too, by the fact that Y/N still didn’t trust her.
It had made her irrationally frustrated, in those few short seconds standing there watching Y/N struggle with her own emotions, that after all this time, after all the care and devotion Kara had thought she’d provided, Y/N was still afraid of her. Hadn’t she done well? Kara thought to herself, after Y/N had gone to the living room and she was gathering up the paddle, the belt, the strap, the hairbrush, the crop in her hands and walking back down the hall herself, formulating the plan in her mind. Hadn’t she praised Y/N at every turn, hadn’t she made sure to call her good girl after every punishment, hadn’t she held her and loved her after every punishment, made sure that Y/N knew it was a clean slate, that everything was forgiven?
Hadn’t she been unlike James Olsen at every possible opportunity?
She’d wanted to call Lena, to call and ask what she should do, because why should she have to keep proving herself over and over again? But she knew what Lena would say, yet another lesson Kara had learned while kneeling at the woman’s feet.
A Dominant will prove herself worthy every day if her submissive needs it. Because the submissive deserves nothing less.
Kara hadn’t meant for things to be as intense as they were with Y/N’s punishment. She’d even momentarily forgotten the significance of the fire, until she’d taken the blindfold off Y/N and the poor girl had reacted to it with a heart-rending moan. Kara would have ended it right there, but she had to prove a point; she had to make Y/N see that Kara was determined never to be like him.
And then Y/N had safe worded.
Later that night, after dinner and as they lay together inside the blanket fort, Y/N had become uncharacteristically quiet. They had been talking and laughing together, making plans for the next day, but then Kara had lain down and taken Y/N into her arms. What she had thought was blissful, comfortable silence was apparently Y/N lost in her own thoughts, thoughts that she wasn’t inviting Kara to share. Kara had waited patiently, content to hold the girl close to her, rubbing her back gently and offering the occasional soft kiss, but still Y/N said nothing.
“Out with it,” Kara had finally ordered gently. “What’s bothering you?” Y/N shook her head.
“Y/N.” There was a note of warning, an edged reminder of the consequence of defiance.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” Kara said, tipping her chin up to kiss Y/N again. “And I said you were forgiven for going through my things.”
“No. Not about that.”
Kara tilted her head. “Then…?”
It hurt when Y/N rolled over on her side, away from Kara, drawing her knees up and curling in on herself as if she was remembering being asleep on the floor, with nothing but a thin sheet for comfort. And then Kara was alarmed, because the quiet sniffling even as she reached out for Y/N told her the girl was crying.
“For safe wording.”
She didn’t pull Y/N back around to her; instead, Kara wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist and scooted herself closer so they were pressed back to front. “Why,” she asked softly, nuzzling her chin onto the girl’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of the shampoo that still lingered, “Would you apologize for that?”
“Because i-it made you angry.”
Now Kara was even more confused, and she wanted to roll Y/N over so that she could see her face, search her eyes for something, anything that would be the reasoning behind the girl’s emotions. But she knew Y/N, knew her boundaries, and knew the girl was lost inside something that it would be dangerous to pull her out of too soon, so Kara simply held her.
“I couldn’t be more proud of you for safe wording,” she explained. “You finally understand that it’s okay to safe word, that you have that right, that you will always have that right. And that makes me so happy.”
“I wasn’t a good girl.”
“What?”
Y/N drew herself up further, so that her knees were practically at her chest. “You always say I’m a good girl… after. This time, you didn’t. Because I’m n-not a good girl.”
“Y/N, no-“
“I safe worded. I’m weak, I didn’t trust you. I’m a b-bad girl.”
“No.” This time, Kara did turn Y/N over in her arms; Y/N didn’t protest, her limbs slack like a rag doll’s, and Kara sighed inwardly. She moved up against the pillows so that Y/N was laid a little lower than she was, with her head against Kara’s chest; Kara tightened her arms. She took a deep breath, letting go of the thoughts of how could I have been so stupid? and allowing her nature to flow through her, to take control. The need to dominate and care, to protect and train. She ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair, loosely, lovingly.
“For a person who has never had a safe word,” she said firmly, “and who has always been afraid to use a safe word because she thought it might result in worse punishment, to actually use a safe word…” Kara shook her head; this was no time for a lecture with big words.
“You’re the bravest girl I know,” she whispered, lowering her lips to the top of Y/N’s head, holding her close as the girl shook with silent sobs. “You’re the bravest girl I know, and the strongest, and I am so proud of you.” She cupped Y/N’s face in her hands, raising it so the girl was looking at her. “Don’t ever let me hear you say you’re a bad girl again, is that clear? That is unacceptable. You may be naughty, you may make bad choices, but you are never bad. Do you understand me?”
Y/N swallowed, her eyes locked on Kara’s. “Yes, Miss Kara.”
“I am so sorry for forgetting to say it,” Kara said, regret coating her voice. “Even a Dominant can make mistakes, and forget things. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Y/N was looking at her with an expression of wonder; Kara knew it was because a Dominant actually apologizing was a foreign concept to her. Still, she nodded, slowly. “I forgive you, Miss Kara.”
Kara smiled, and kissed her. “What a strong, brave, good girl you are,” she affirmed, and kissed her again. Y/N offered her a watery smile in response, and Kara brushed the tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “Good girl,” she cooed, tucking Y/N’s head back against her chest. “My good girl. My good, good girl.”
“She’ll need you more after than during,” Lena said, watching Sam with no small amount of pride on her face. “You know, she’s so hot like this.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “Now is really not the time, horndog,” she said affectionately, then paled when Lena turned to her with a glare in her eyes. “Sorry, Miss Lena,” Kara squeaked.
Really, it was ridiculous that that woman could still make her feel like a 16 year old sometimes.
Lena smirked, and patted Kara’s knee.
Both women tensed when the door to the front of the courtroom opened, and The Honorable Judge Winston Schott entered to take his place at the head table.
Kara knew as soon as she saw him that all was lost.
It wasn’t that he was particularly menacing or intimidating; in fact, with his sweater vest and his unruly, curly hair he looked more like a high school teacher than a judge. But it was in the way he walked, in the way he smiled and greeted James Olsen hello while merely nodding at Y/N, in the way he seated himself and rustled through the papers but not even giving them so much as a glance that told Kara he had most likely made up his mind before he’d even walked in the door.
“Right then,” he said, settling back in his chair and uncapping his pen, tapping it annoyingly against the table. “This is case oh three four dash three two six. I’m Judge Winston Schott; let’s have the introductions, please.”
“Lucy Lane and Sam Luthor-Arias, representation and advocate for Y/N Hastings, plaintiff, Your Honor.”
Kara wasn’t too sure about Y/N’s lawyer; the woman had her hair up in pigtails and was wearing an outlandish jacket topped with a feather boa. But Sam insisted she was the best, and Lena insisted that Sam knew what she was talking about. So Kara pushed aside her nervousness and smiled when Y/N managed a glance and subtle wave at her, then she turned her attention to the men sitting on the opposite side.
“Iris West-Allen and Alex Danvers, representation and advocate for James Olsen, defendant, Your Honor.”
Kara fought back a giggle as she caught sight of Maggie, sat just behind Alex’s table, pointing at her Ma’am and mouthing “She is so hot.” She shook her head at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs up before quickly slipping into what she termed “behave mode.”
Her nerves were quickly getting the best of her though, as the introductions ceased and it was time for the trial of Y/N Hastings-Olsen v. James Olsen to get underway. They were going to lose, she was sure of it, and everything Y/N had to go through would have been for nothing, because James Olsen was going to get a slap on the wrist.
“Right,” Schott was saying, sounding bored. “James Olsen, defendant, Y/N Hastings-Olsen, plain—“
“Hastings, Your Honor,” Ms. Lane interrupted, her tone clipped and determined. “Her name is Y/N Hastings.”
“Mm,” Judge Schott hummed. “Hastings-Olsen, plaintiff. Let’s beg—“
“Objection!”
All eyes turned to her.
“Kara, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lena hissed. “You can’t object; you’re not part of the trial!”
Alex looked as if she was about to come out of her seat at her; Kara sank down into hers, watching as Y/N raised a single eyebrow at her.
That eyebrow was really, really hot.
“There will be silence in the gallery,” Judge Schott reprimanded sternly, glaring at Kara. “Unless you are—“
“Oh I’m not a lawyer,” Kara explained hastily. “Though I have played one in a local theater production.”
Lena dropped her face into her palm as Sam snorted.
“There will be silence in the gallery,” Judge Schott said again with a sigh of exasperation. “Are we clear?”
Kara nodded, embarrassed that she’d let her nerves get the best of her so soon. “Yes, Your Honor, sorry.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded. “We will proceed. As is always the case, the defense shall be presented first.”
Kara managed not to groan; she hated that so far, efforts in court reform had been rejected by the government, and so trials nearly always ended up skewed towards the accused. Proponents of the current system said it actually worked in the plaintiff’s favor, because theirs was the last testimony heard, and would therefore remain fresher in the judge or jury’s mind, but Kara wasn’t so sure she bought that. She only hoped it would be true, for Y/N’s sake.
She noticed that James was leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and his eyes glued to Y/N. She for her part wasn’t looking at him; she was staring down at the table. Kara wondered if she’d ever been permitted to really look at James.
“Hold on, angel,” Kara whispered. “Just hold on.” Lena shot her a look, and Kara quieted so she could hear the questions from James’s lawyer.
“Will you tell us, please, James,” began West-Allen, “How you feel about your submissive?”
“She’s not yours,” Kara muttered. “She’s mi—“
“Kara, shut up,” Lena said softly. “Remember, everything has to go perfectly.”
“I didn’t—“ he paused, as if fumbling for the words. “I never meant to hurt he—“ James Olsen stopped again. “Y/N. Y/N, look at me. Look at me.”
She didn’t, and Kara felt her heart swell as instead, the girl looked at her. She nodded at Y/N, who reluctantly turned back to James.
“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, and Kara rolled her eyes, only to have her mouth drop open in shock at his next words.
“Y/N, I love you.”
Kara felt sick. She had to lean forward a little, her arms pressed against her stomach; Lena laid a reassuring hand on her back. The words were… everything Kara knew Y/N had wanted to hear from James. Kara knew the power behind those words, knew how much she wanted to hear them herself. But would it make everything okay, she wondered. Would Y/N… leave her and go back to James, forget everything he’d put her through, just because he said he loved her? She sniffed, unaware until then that she was crying; she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes.
“Easy,” Lena murmured. “It’s not going to change anything, Kara. Easy now.”
“Do you deny doing the things that you are accused of?”
James Olsen shook his head. “No,” he said, and Kara heard herself gasp. She’d never expected him to actually admit it.
“But I never meant to hurt her, I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought—“
“What did you think justified your treatment of someone you say you love?”
This was what Kara had been waiting to hear. The explanation, the reasoning behind it all. Not that it would change her opinion of him, or make it all right, but if she didn’t get to hear it she’d be wondering for the rest of her life what had led James to be so brutal to one of the sweetest creatures she had ever known in her life.
She still wanted him to suffer everything Y/N had suffered, but more than that, she wanted to know why.
“I—my dad was a sub,” James said with a shrug. Before Kara had a chance to blurt out what’s that got to do with anything? he continued. “My dad was a sub, and my mom was his Dominant. I mean yeah that’s how it works so of course she was but… and he was a good sub, when he was around. At least what I can remember, I was pretty young when he left.”
“He left?” Mrs. West-Allenpressed, one hand scratching notes onto the pad in front of her, the other playing with the tie at her neck.
“Yeah he… got into some stuff, drugs I guess? I don’t really know, I was just a kid. He’d… go out all the time, come home… different. And my mom, she tried, you know, she’d punish him. Spank him, make him do chores, not let him leave the house. But she was kind of soft, she didn’t like punishing him and he got away with a lot of stuff. So he’d leave anyway.”
“And one day…?”
James shrugged, twisting his hands together as he looked at Y/N. “I love you,” he said, the words sounding gentle. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”
Kara fought back the urge to retch; Lena’s hand was soothing against her back. He didn’t mean any of it. She knew he didn’t. Not after all this time, not after everything he’d done to her. Don’t believe him, she tried to send to Y/N. Please don’t believe him, I love you…
“James.”
“Right, sorry.” Olsen took another deep breath and went on with a glance at Alex, who smiled encouragingly at him.
For a split second, Kara hated her again.
“One day he… went somewhere. Told my mom he was going shopping. ‘I’ll be back with dinner, Mistress,’ he said. ‘Take care of Mom,’ he said.” Olsen struck the table with his fist and everyone jumped; Y/N let out a whimper and in a heartbeat Sam had her arm around the girl, whispering words into her ear. Kara clenched her hands to keep from jumping out of her seat; Lena slipped her arm around her shoulders.
“Be strong, that’s what she needs right now,” she soothed. Kara swallowed around the lump in her throat and nodded.
“We waited for hours,” James said through clenched teeth. “Mom paced back and forth, kept saying that this time he’d learn his lesson, this time he’d see that his place was at home with his family. And me, I just sat on the steps watching the door. Must’ve fallen asleep ‘cause when I woke up it was morning and I was still on the steps. Mom was on the couch crying and he never came back.”
West-Allen nodded, looking thoughtful; Judge Schott was staring as if he wanted to cuddle Olsen on his lap. “Can you explain,” James’s lawyer said, “How that affected your relationship with Y/N?”
“My mom… she was such a pushover, you know? She let him get away with everything. She’s the Domme, she’s supposed to be in control, show him who’s boss, but she kept letting him walk out. And I’m just 16, you know? I’m a 16 year old kid and my mom was so obsessed with finding him that… I didn’t know much. But I knew I wasn’t going to do that with you,” he said to Y/N, and she glanced away.
“I’m not weak. I’m the Dom, I control you and you’re going to do what I say. I love you, and I have to keep you safe. She didn’t keep him safe, and now he’s gone. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. You’re not safe out there, you belong to me and your place is at home, and if I have to beat and burn that into you every day then I’m going to fucking do it.”
She’d had enough. Kara jumped out of her chair and ran into the hall, with Lena right behind. She barely made it to the restroom, dropping to her knees in one of the stalls and emptying her stomach of all the contents from breakfast earlier that morning. Lena knelt behind her, holding Kara’s hair back with one hand, again rubbing her back with the other.
“How,” Kara croaked, shaking slightly, “How can any of that justify what he did to her?”
“It doesn’t,” Lena said matter-of-factly. “I don’t care how much of a scared, fatherless 16 year old boy he was, there comes a point when immaturity stops being an explanation and it becomes a get out of jail free card, an unfair justification for despicable behavior. Hey, I can imitate you pretty well, can’t I?”
Kara smiled weakly and stood up, brushing off her clothes and accepting the mint gum Lena held out to her, then allowing herself to be pulled into the other woman’s arms.
“We’re going to lose,” Kara said softly, leaning in.
Lena sighed and squeezed her. “I know.” She pushed back and looked directly into Kara’s eyes. “Which is why I said she’ll need you more after. Come on, it’s almost her turn to testify.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Kara admitted, tugging at the black skirt she wore and nervously adjusting the white top. It occurred to her that she and Y/N had somehow managed to color coordinate, though neither of them had discussed what they were going to wear.
It was… hopeful, she thought.
“Yes you can.” Lena had already turned away from Kara and was walking out the door, her heels sounding loudly on the floor. Kara shook her head slightly, recognizing that the encouragement was also an order, and she quickly followed her back into the courtroom.
Y/N looked worriedly at her as Kara settled back in her seat; Kara just winked at her and waved slightly before realizing that Schott was speaking to her.
“I trust there will be no more disturbances during these proceedings?” he said, once again sounding bored. “Honestly, if you were going to be this emotional you ought to have stayed home.”
Kara growled low in her throat, but managed to sound pleasant as she said, “No more disturbances, Your Honor, you can continue.”
“Well, thank you for your permission.” Judge Schott turned to Y/N’s lawyer. “Miss Lane, are you ready to cross-examine the defendant?”
“Ready, Your Honor.”
All doubts about Y/N’s lawyer’s qualifications disappeared as soon as Lucy Lane leaned forward in her seat, her eyes boring into James’s as she asked “Mr. Olsen… just who the hell do you think you are?” Kara smirked, and she even caught Y/N smiling slightly. Every question was on-point, every counter of his answers left the young man squirming in his seat, and Kara began to think that maybe, just maybe, they might have a shot at winning. By the time Lane said she had no further questions, James Olsen had been reduced to stuttering his answers.
“Miss Lane, are you and Miss Hastings-Olsen ready to present your own case?”
“Hastings, Your Honor.”
Kara’s head shot up at Y/N’s voice, even as a slow smile began to spread over her face.
Judge Schott regarded her coolly. “I’m sorry?”
“It’s Y/N Hastings,” she said, her voice low, but confident. “My name is Y/N Hastings.”
Lucy Lane was smiling; Kara caught Sam pumping her fist under the table and next to her, Lena chuckled.
“Very well, then,” he said, with a dismissing wave of his head. “Can we get on with this?”
“I believe we can,” Miss Lane said. “Y/N?”
Y/N hesitated, and Kara’s heart filled with pride as she looked at her, then nodded. “I’m ready.”
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sapphictv · 4 years ago
Note
Kelly Olsen for the ask meme
I got really excited when I saw this! Kelly is such an underrated character and I love her so much 🥰
My favorite thing about Kelly is her heart. That probably sounds cheesy and I know it's her job but she just seems like the kind of person who gives really good hugs.
Least favorite thing: Nothing against Kelly herself but how the writers write her. She's often used to offer guidance and insight (to the mostly white characters) and further along their development and stories. I'm looking forward to her becoming guardian and hope the writers let her stand on her own and have her own story... but we will have to wait and see.
Favorite line: I loved her line from a couple episodes ago, "The point is that you are still here and you get to decide whether you give up or keep going".
brOTP: She has limited interaction with the rest of the superfriends but I like to think that Kelly has a soft spot for Lena. Perhaps she knows a bit about Lena's past trauma and that she was the last to know Kara was supergirl. Lena also probably knows a bit about Kelly's past that she learned when she was dating James.
OTP: Alex/Kelly is the obvious choice here. Not sure anyone else can compete for this title. I think they're cute and one of the healthiest relationships in the arrowverse.
nOTP: Azie has said that Kelly is gay so Kelly/any man is a no go. I also think Kara/Kelly would be weird because of Kelly's relationship with Alex.
Random HC: I would like to see Kelly host a therapy "game night" because all of the superfriends need some help. She can't be their therapist but she can give them referrals to someone else.
Unpopular Opinion: I prefer Alex/Kelly to Alex/Maggie. The actress really makes all the difference to me, Azie seems like a really kind and talented person. I also appreciate that Kelly is not a cop.
Song I associate with them: My first thought was Stronger by Kelly Clarkson. Obvious name reference but also Kelly's been through some stuff.
Fav pic/gif: Crisis on infinite earths scene stealer, much appreciated
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chayacat · 4 years ago
Text
Devil’s Sweet Star (1)
Fandom: Dead by Daylight
Ghostface x Female Reader  
Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  
***
Finally. After months and months of searching for a suitable space, you have found it. Even if it means leave Indiana. After all, you no longer have anything to hold you back there and a change of landscape will do the greatest good. You’ve moved to Roseville, Ohio in order to open your own coffee shop and found locals curious but welcoming to you. Your new apartment, big enough for a couple is certainly simple but with all the decorations you have in your boxes, you will make it as comfortable and warm as you can. You get your apartment keys from James Lawson your landlord, an adorable old man who lives with his wife for forty years.  
He warned you about the hot water system that was shared among all residents, so keep it in mind if you don’t want to have some complaint from them. Rent is reasonable and if you have any problem or just want to talk, you just have to knock on his door. 
“One last thing young girl! Be careful outside! With these little hooligans, filthy little scoundrels who give no respect for their elders, smoking their bullshit drugs and...” he said becoming grumpier before his wife puts his hand on his shoulder
“Calm down my dear...think of your heart. But I agree and that’s not the worst. Robbery and aggressions happen often if they saw you weak or alone. Just for...Fun as they said. It's really worrying to see such a thing when they could do something better for everyone.” She said.
“No worries! If someone try to piss me off, I'll just kick his ass! It’s not the first time and I know it wouldn’t be the last. As my father said: hit a man where it hurts! But thanks for warning me anyway. You answer with that smile of yours before going to your car get your boxes.
It was exhausting and you sigh in relief when you put the last box on the ground to close the door behind you. After two hours of household and storage with some music to give you motivation, you decide to go out to take care of what will soon be your coffee shop.  Located two blocks away, the old building, once a diner, was bigger than you thought. Fortunately, the companies you hired to do work have finished the day before, all that remains is to place the material and decorations, tables and chairs and wait for the delivery of coffee.
“Damn it’s much bigger than I expected. But that’s not bad after all! Still...I have to find a name. Not always the easiest part. The Nebula? Galaxia?  Sugar Star?” you said tilting your head thinking of many names as you enter into the shop.  
Everything was as you imagine. From walls to the smallest decorations, everything, without overloading, reminded space. Pleasant, relaxing, a real place to escape after a busy and stressful day while drinking a good coffee and devouring a slice of pie or other pastry. You start to organise everything, placing seats, tables and chairs to maximize space allowing future customers to move freely without getting in the way. Suddenly you hear someone knocking on the door and when you turn to see who it is, you notice a woman, in her forties, wearing an apron adorned with flowers that stood in front of the entrance.
“Wow...I didn’t think this place would change that much. and I love it! Much more than Joe's old dinner. I assume you're the new owner? I’m Lindsey Parson, I own the flower shop” she said with a bright smile offering her hand.
“Yes ma’am! Nice to meet you!” you answer as you introduced yourself shaking her hand.  
“I hope you’ll enjoy Roseville. And that your business will succeed. When do you think you're going to open it?  
“Oh...Well if all goes well, I think I could welcome my first customers on Wednesday! I just have to...find a name.”
“It's always the hardest thing to do when you open a business. I’m sure you’ll find it. And if you want, I can talk about your coffee to my friends. They’ll be delighted to go in a new place to share some news over a good coffee or tea.  
“Thanks a lot! that’s really nice of you! I think I’ll be happy to live here than in Indiana.”
“If he’s not decided to make you his prey...” whispered Lindsey turning her face outside slightly worried.
You tilted you head at her words. His prey? Who? Who is she talking about? She breathes deeply and turn her face again to you with a little smile like she doesn’t want to scare you. Not when you’ve just arrived here.
“You know I'm not afraid about some weirdo punk or pervert bastard. If someone looks for troubles, I’ll kick them where it hurts: nuts or ass they’ll choose.” you reply by shrugging your shoulders.
“You’ve got guts, but it won't stop Ghostface from killing you if he decided to make you his next victim. Since many months, he killed many persons and no one know who is he. He’s a real shadow, stalking you and waiting for the perfect moment to hit his victim. Even if you’re not afraid, you should be careful, because he will not give you time or opportunity to defend yourself or run away.” said Lindsey.
“Great. I always move in at the right moment. Well, I guess I'm cursed or something.” you say with a sigh. “Cops have no leads to find him? he must have left traces, clues! no crimes and criminals are perfect. Except in thrillers.”
“He’s not called Ghostface for nothing girl. With him It’s like you try to catch the air in your hand, he plays and makes fun of the cops. He humiliates them and it pissed them off. So please, take care of yourself. and If you see something weird call the cops immediately. Well, I’m going back to my shop. See you around! And good luck!”
She waves her hand, and you wave back at her before she leaves. A few minutes later, you leave the coffee shop making sure all the doors are closed. Since coffee delivery doesn't arrive until tomorrow morning, you have the rest of the day and tomorrow to find a name. the hardest is yet to come. You make your way at home and once you arrive, you park and read the newspaper you bought on the road. After what you’ve heard from Lindsey, you better know more about that Ghostface guy. If cops don’t have any clues about him, the journalist who made the article on the other hand, named Jed Olsen, seems to make a real investigation work.  
It's real impressive to see how many details he wrote about the last murder and the victim, a young man named Travis Maloney. Maybe he’s an experienced journalist, working for 25 years, in the fifties, dressed surely with old suspender pants, a slightly mis tied tie, dual focus glasses and an onset of baldness. And also, some smell of tobacco that smokes your nostrils. Imagine all this makes you wince, hope you will never deal with this guy, you will be good at disinfecting the whole apartment after. Once in the building you go to your mailbox to pick up the mail you have transferred as well as some advertisements. As you reach your home, you turned the corner and lost in your throughs you met with someone’s nose.  
“Ouch...damn It hurts. I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay? “you start to say before raising your head to your unfortunate interlocutor.  
Then you freeze. He was a little taller than you, his coppery blond hair almost approaching red, slightly wavy, came to the shoulders to fits his thin face. He was wearing a black shirt covered by a khaki jacket, black pants and shiny brown dress shoes. But what attracted you the most was his piercing blue eyes hidden behind thin rectangular glasses.  He’s handsome, even if he looks like a nerdy boy. He groaned a little as he rubbed his nose before looking at you.  
“Well...at least I can say it’s a way to say hello. I'm fine my nose is not fallen so...you can breathe you need more strength to broke it.” He laughed putting his glasses back in place. “What about you?”
“I’m okay, my brain still okay...even if sometimes I should use it more often to avoid something like this.” You answer with a nervous laugh as you introduced yourself. “You sure everything is okay? I didn’t break your glasses or anything?!”  
“No worries really.” He assured with an angelic smile. Damn he looks like an angel. “Anyways, I have to change them sooner or later so...it’s doesn’t matter. Nice to meet you, I'm Jed Olsen, it’s seems like you’re my new neighbour, I live the door right next to you.”  
You froze again. Okay. Do you remember what you thought before about him? Forget it. Jed Olsen is not an old man that stinks of tobacco but that handsome nerdy boy right in front of you. More he is your neighbour. You mentally slap yourself to have disfigured him in this way.  
“Jed? I don’t want to be rude but you look very young to carry a name too ... Old. When I hear that name, I feel like we're talking about someone who has fifty / sixty years old...No offence.” You reply a little embarrassed.  
“Let’s just say my parents considered me as a mistake. Maybe that’s why they gave me this old name. To remind me that I was not wanted” said Jed.
“Sorry. But at least they wrong! Look at you! You pull off the nerd look very well! If all the nerds, and more all men were physically like you, this would-be paradise on Earth!”
Oh Shit...did you just say this out loud? Yes, you do, and you mentally slap yourself again to say that JUST in front of him. Jed’s eyes blinked for several seconds, a little surprised about what you say before giving you a little smile scratching the back of his head.
“Well, I got to go! I still have storage to do in the apartment and I have to think about two, three little things! You laughed awkwardly “H-have a nice day! See ya !”  
You walk fast to your home door, quickly open and close it after entering inside. You facepalm yourself many times, cursed you in all languages.  
“Good job, pickle brain! For a first good impression It’s a failure. He's going to think I'm an idiot and pervert as a bonus. What did is done anyway...I should focus on the coffee for now. I will find a way to apologize to him later. But first a shower is welcomed! I smell like a camel...and I'm being polite.”  
You spend the rest of the day thinking about the name of your pastries, in harmony with the theme of the coffee as well as the very name of the coffee shop. If it was easy enough for the first one, you come out empty-handed in your name search for your shop. As Lindsey says, it's not the easier part. And she's right.
***
(Well, this is the first time I write a fiction and especially an English fiction because I’m a French potato x) Sorry if my English causes headaches XD Do not hesitate to tell me what you think, I take all positive/negative/neutral opinions! This will allow me to improve my writing talent which is at the same level as my talent in drawing (0/20 in fact XD) if you want a better view of Danny aka Jed Olsen, check out @arkkosun ‘s page who allowed me to use his/her version of our Danny boy! i thank him/her again by the way! So as promised @arkkosun @sleepydaydreamz and @horror-ink here’s my first chapter! And i hope not the last 0.0″)   
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c-optimistic · 5 years ago
Text
fall
Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.
Sometimes, when she’s alone in her office in the wee hours of the morning, still in yesterday’s clothing and unsure when she’d last eaten, she thinks about that, the utter normalcyof losing National City’s hero on a Wednesday. Somehow, the death on such a boring day of the week provides a sort of stark contrast that Lena has trouble wrapping her head around. After all, surely the hero and pride of National City would fall in a blaze of glory on a Friday night, a Sunday afternoon, even a Monday morning during rush hour.
But a Wednesday? Some time between mid-morning and noon? When nothing was happening except for the drudge of the week, the tireless churning of society?
She doesn’t understand it—has tried to come to terms with it with very little success. In her weakest moments, when she’s staring down the end of a bottle of whiskey or wine (before Jess or Maggie or even James Olsen pry the bottle from her fingertips and help her get home), she thinks the very banality of Supergirl’s death is evidence of its unnecessary nature, its needless, pointless, meaningless, asinine—
Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.
By Friday, the President herself comes to National City to mourn the fallen hero. She talks about the few short conversations she’s had with Supergirl, how everyone should be inspired and follow Supergirl’s wonderful example. A true hero, an exemplary citizen.
(Lena doesn’t go to the ceremony. She and Alex spend that afternoon in Kara’s apartment, sitting on Kara’s couch, Alex stoically staring at the television screen with silent tears running down her cheeks and Lena gripping her hand so tightly she thinks she’ll break fingers.  
After that, Lena doesn’t see much of Alex at all.)
The President dedicates a memorial to Supergirl, and donations come pouring in—people wanting to make it larger than life, much like the hero it’s meant to honor. People from across the country pour into National City in order to discuss how to best go about building the memorial, debating what Supergirl would’ve liked or wanted.
(Lena sits it all out though L-Corp is asked for the perspective, for their idea of what should be built—especially seeing as though the memorial would be so close to their building.
Lena has Jess allocate a sizable donation to the effort to build the memorial, claiming she only does it to get the pestering swarms off her back. She pretends not to hear Jess’s soft sigh, not to see the pitying expression.)
Supergirl dies on a Wednesday.
Not many know how. The secret is limited to a select few: Alex, who was her everything; J’onn, who was like a father; Winn, who was her best friend; James, who was her first love; and Lena—Lena who somehow stumbled into her life and never stumbled back out, now left alone and bearing more scars on her heart than she had any right to.
(Superman is there the day it happens, he is there on that dismal, ordinary, normal, Wednesday. He’s there when Supergirl gets hit, he’s there when she falls, he’s there when she doesn’t get back up. And in the cellphone footage that plays nonstop on every news outlet, Superman lifts her, tears in his eyes, and with a great heave, he shoots off into the air with Supergirl still in his arms.
What no one sees is Superman returning to the DEO. What no one hears is Superman’s toneless voice as he informs the five of them of his cousin’s death, catching Alex before she falls to her knees. What no one knows is that Lena thinks she dies that day too—that Superman meets her eyes as if he hearsthe sound of her breaking heart as it happens, that he watches her become a shell after losing yet another person she loves.)
Supergirl dies on a Wednesday, and it’s on a Wednesday two weeks later that the plans for the memorial is finally revealed. It’s to be a life-sized statue of Supergirl, the artist sketching Supergirl with her hands on her hips, smile on her lips, and it’s on a Wednesday that Lena stares at the drawing and wonders just how many people would recognize that if they placed a pair of glasses on the statue and hid the emblem on her chest with a pastel sweater that Supergirl would strongly resemble someone else.
Supergirl dies on a Wednesday, and in the days that follow the world mourns: the House of El coat of arms is everywhere, people begin quoting Supergirl left and right, and when they see Superman they avert their eyes so as to avoid the sorrow swimming in the depths of his gaze.
It makes Lena so angry.
Because Supergirl dies on a Wednesday, but more importantly, so does Kara.
x
“I hear you don’t leave the office,” Alex says without prompting as she walks into Lena’s office without any warning. Lena smiles weakly, motioning to Jess that the interruption is fine, and offers Alex a drink. (Water only. After an incident several weeks earlier, the two of them have sworn off alcohol, have been attempting to get their lives back in order—as impossible as that seems.)
“I hear you’ve been reckless.”
“Who snitched?” Alex asks, waving off the water and sitting down across from Lena, slouched heavily in the chair that Kara—
No. No. Lena isn’t about to go there.
“You tell me first,” she replies easily, shutting her laptop and giving Alex her full attention. “It was either Maggie or James. No one else comes to L-Corp late at night.”
“Winn’s been hacking into your security system,” Alex admits, shrugging when Lena’s mouth falls open in offense. “What? He’s used to keeping tabs on you. Has been since Kara—” Her mouth snaps shut, something steely appears in her gaze, and she becomes hard, her jaw clenched tight.
“Maggie told me about the alien you apprehended without backup,” Lena says, pretending as if she didn’t hear Alex’s slip, as if she didn’t witness the way Alex clammed up.
“I had it under control.”
“He was apparently three times bigger than you.” Lena eyes Alex’s leg pointedly, the ginger way Alex stretches it. “And how is nearly getting your leg torn off having anything ‘under control?’”
“He got a lucky shot in, that’s all. Also, I don’t know how I feel about my girlfriend telling you all this stuff.”
“Well I don’t know how I feel about Winn hackinginto my security system.”
“Fair enough, I’ll get him to back off if youpromise to go home and get a good’s night sleep as least twice a week.”
“I like that you know better than to ask for more than two nights a week,” Lena chuckles. When Alex merely raises an eyebrow, clearly in no mood for jokes (though none of them ever really are anymore), Lena deflates. “It still smells like her, the couch, my favorite throw. I just can’t, Alex. I can’t.”
(She doesn’t say that when she goes too long without sleep or if she forgets to eat once too often she sees Kara’s phantom presence—can see her curled up on the couch with a book, can hear her giggling over something she reads on her phone, can feel her warmth while mindlessly watching the news, can smell her perfume lingering in the air and her shampoo and something vaguely sunnyon the clothes she once borrowed when she claimed she was too tired to fly home.
Lena doesn’t say that in her darkest moments, when she’s alone and weak and feeling oh so vulnerable, she thinks that she’ll see Kara emerging from the guest bedroom, yawning even as she worriedly asks why Lena is sobbing. She doesn’t say that watching that door never open is tearing her apart.)
“It’s been a month, there’s no way—”
“So you don’t wear her favorite sweater anymore?”
Alex looks stricken at the accusation, clearly upset that Maggie would confide even this to Lena. The truth, however, is that as worried as everyone has been about Lena, they are all well aware that it’s Alex who’s lost the most—Alex who’s bearing the most pain, Alex who lost her entire world. Lena isn’t stupid; she knows Maggie and James don’t only check up on her out of some vague sense of lingering loyalty to Kara (the one person who had faith in Lena, who believed inLena, who once swore she’d always stand up for Lena).  
After all, who better to understand losing a sibling than Lena Luthor?
“That’s different,” Alex says fiercely after she manages to get her shock under control.
“Alex—”
“She’s not gone. I know it, I can feel it. My sister is still out there and she’s coming back.”
Lena sighs and Alex’s shoulders stiffen.
(It’s practically a play they enact by memory at this point. It’d started a week after Clark left. Alex had stated it as a fact, had talked about how Clark hadn’t let anyone see Kara’s body, how he was keeping his distance, how there were unexplainable reports from the south about random surges and strange miracles, how she sworeshe heard Kara’s voice one night, just outside her window.
And Lena—heartbroken, terrified, emptyLena—refutes each of Alex’s claims one by one, keeping her voice steady and calm, trying to prevent the swell of hope in her own chest. Because she wantsit to be true, she so wants it to be true, but that damn door never opens and experience is a hard teacher and Lena’s had plenty of lessons—enough that while she’s brave enough to admit what she wants she doesn’t dare give in to hope.
Lena isn’t strong enough to hope only for it all to be proved false, so she prays that Alex is strong enough for the both of them.
She wonders how long she can continue to be so unfair.)
“So it can’t be true that I still smell Kara on my things, but she’s definitely alive just because you feel it?”
“You don’t understand, I know my sister. I’ve always had a sixth sense when it came to her, when she was in trouble and needed me. And she needsme now. Lena, you have to believe me.”
(I want to, Lena doesn’t say. Show me how to hope, she doesn’t say.)
“Just like you knew Mon-El was trouble and told her to stay away from him?” Lena says instead, her voice becoming cold. (This too is a conversation she’s had many times with Alex, and every time, it’s ended the same way.)
“Fuck you, Luthor,” Alex hisses. She gets to her feet, only favoring her left leg slightly, all her pain forgotten in her anger, and she stalks out of Lena’s office without another word or a look back.
And Lena wearily reaches for her phone, dialing Maggie’s number.
“She’ll be coming to you now,” she says in lieu of a hello. “Let her know somehow that I’m sorry, okay? And thank her for looking out for me.”
“You could tell her yourself. You could tell her you don’t actually think she’s crazy,” Maggie says, her voice almost completely drowned out by some sort of commotion in the background. Lena idly wonders how the NCPD is faring without one of their greatest assets.  
“I actually don’t think she wants to hear anything from me right now,” Lena says, swallowing hard. “And I never called her crazy.”
“Look, Lena. I get it, okay? People process grief differently.” She lets out a sigh when Lena doesn’t respond. “I don’t know how little Danvers got stuck with two of the most stubborn women in the world.”
“The issue is she’s not processing her grief at all, Maggie,” Lena says, closing her eyes and ignoring the latter part of Maggie’s comment. She doesn’t wait for Maggie to convince her otherwise—she hangs up and tosses her phone aside.
After a long pause, she opens her eyes and swivels her chair around, staring out her window, somehow momentarily sure that she’ll see a flash of red and hear the light thud of boots against the balcony. But the moment is gone in a heartbeat, and Lena hurriedly wipes away the single tear that’s rolled down her cheek and returns to her work as if there’d never been an interruption in the first place.
(She doesn’t go home that night either.)
x
On the second month anniversary of Supergirl’s (and Kara’s) death, Lena decides she’ll take a lunch break and go for a walk. She tells Jess to take care of all her calls, to email her anything that’s urgent, then walks to the nearest café—barely a block away—buys Kara’s favorite sandwich and heads to memorial that’s still under construction, tentatively named Hero’s Park.
She sits on one of the wooden benches away from the bustling and the work, the sandwich going untouched as she stares at the one thing that’s already been completed: a life-size statue of Supergirl. The artist is talented, she thinks for the umpteenth time. They’d somehow captured Kara’s strength in the curve of her spine, her optimism in the uptick of her lips, her courage in the clench of her hands. Supergirl’s very essence had been distilled into stone, each inch exemplifying everything that made Kara great.
(Or perhaps that’s just what Lena sees when she looks at the statue because that was what she saw when she looked at Kara.)
“You didn’t come to game night,” she hears a deep voice rumble, and though she smiles she doesn’t turn to look at the man who’s joined her at her bench. “We all missed you.”
“Alex is upset with me, I didn’t think she’d want me there.”
“She’s sad, Lena. But she always wants you around.”
Lena sighs, turning to face James, studying his expression and his loose-fitting clothing before offering him another smile, this one self-deprecating, mirthless…broken.
“Why?”
“Because you’re something she has left of Kara. You and Winn.”
“Not you?”
“I came into Kara’s life thanks to Clark. You came into her life because she brought you into it.” He doesn’t seem sad or resentful and Lena knows why: it doesn’t matter how they came into Kara’s life, they were both just grateful that they’d ever been in her orbit at all. She stares at him a little longer then hands over the sandwich, actually letting out a laugh when he halves it and raises an eyebrow, waiting till she accepts her half and takes a bite before he begins to eat as well.
“So you tracked me down to tell me to come to the next game night?”
“Track down?” James huffs, shaking his head. “Lena, there’s no tracking with you. You’re either here or at the office.”
“But you were looking for me.”
“Yeah, but not about game night. Fair warning, though, Alex will probably call you sometime today about that.” He polishes off the last of his sandwich and leans back, his eyes on the memorial, something sad passing over his face. “Cat Grant is back,” he explains without preamble. “She feels…well, I think she’s guilty. She seems to think Kara’s—” He stops, clears his throat, and shakes his head. “She thinks it’s her fault somehow. So she wants to honor Supergirl her own way. She wants to coincide the opening of the memorial with a special issue of CatCo magazine.”
“And how does that involve me?”
“Apparently it’s ‘common knowledge’ that you and Supergirl were close. I don’t think Cat knows just how close you were, but she suspects enough. She wants to interview you, add the viewpoint of someone who knew Supergirl well.”
“And she didn’t ask you?”
“She did. But the truth is I don’t think I knew Kara in the end. We’d become so distant and I…” He stops and hangs his head, hurriedly wiping at his eyes. Lena tactfully looks away, remembering all the nights he helped her off the floor of her office and took her home, never once mentioning her weakness, never once taking advantage of the information he held over her. To see someone at their very worst and still think them strong…that was something Lena hadn’t had with anyone before James. And she likes it. She likes it enough that she surprises herself by reaching out and taking James’s hand, not looking over at him even when he squeezes back gratefully.
“I don’t know if I can survive an interview with Cat Grant,” Lena tells James softly, pulling her hand away and turning to him. To her shock, he’s grinning.
“I thought you’d say that,” he says, knocking shoulders with her. “That’s why I told Cat I’d interview you. As my last hurrah I guess before I move back to Metropolis.”
Lena frowns, filled with confusion and a terrible sense of sorrow that she’s losing someone she just found.
“You’re moving away? But—”
“I don’t belong here anymore, Lena,” he interrupts, and Lena doesn’t understand why he looks so carefree, why he’s so cheerful about that fact. “I came here to get out from under Clark’s shadow and I think somewhere along the way I lost myself. I wanted to be a hero like Kara, a hero like Clark, and I forgot that there’s more to being a hero than punching a few bad guys.” He tilts his head towards her, actually winking. “You showed me that, you know. You’re more of a hero than you know, and it’s just because you choose to do the right thing over what might be easy.”
“I think you’re giving me too much credit, James.”
“I think you give yourself too little credit,” he shoots back with good humor. “National City has been good for you. For me…well, for me I don’t think it was.”
“You met Kara here,” Lena reminds him softly, but rather than recant, James tilts his head back, staring up at the sky with a wide smile on his face, his eyes closing. She can almost see what Kara saw in him—he’s obviously conventionally attractive, but he’s also soft and gentle, kind, and patient. There’s a warmth to him that Lena appreciates, something she finds herself basking in because at times—when he’s chuckling or when he’s passionate about something—it reminds Lena so much of Kara. The very thought of losing him hurts more than she thought it would, especially now that they’ve become tentative friends, one of the many things Lena has because of Kara. “National City gave you that.”
“National City also took her away,” he says, his smile not fading and his eyes still closed. “I like to think that there’s an alternate world, another timeline that Kara is alive and happy. And maybe I met her and maybe I didn’t, but I think just knowing she’s somewhere in the world would be enough for me.”
“Yes,” Lena says without thinking, “I agree.”
“So.” James claps his hands together and sits up, finally opening his eyes and facing her. “Will you do the interview? Send me off in style?”
Lena looks over at the statue, eyes roving the intricate lines of Kara’s face. She stares into the lifeless eyes of the statue and for a moment they flash, looking blue and bright and vibrant.
Kara gave her friends, gave her a sense that she mattered, but most of all, Kara reminded her what it meant to be a hero: to do the best you could, with whatever you had. So Lena’s answer is a no-brainer.
“Of course, James. Whatever you need.”
And James’s answering grin reminds her so much of Kara that the ache in her chest—the one she hasn’t been able to escape since that Wednesday two months ago—twinges painfully, and Lena realizes that, with or without James, losing Kara is something she’ll never be able to get over.
x
Cat Grant actually cries (it’s caught on camera, a single tear rolling down her cheeks, and the photograph is tucked into the corner of the article about Supergirl and her wider influence—forever immortalizing herself as not only the person who named Supergirl, but also the person who said goodbye.)
Lena’s interview with James is everywhere the day the memorial opens. Quotes are read on news programs, social media blows up with it, shared again and again with varying opinions.
(“She’s a fake,” some say.
“She’s not like her family,” others write.
“Can you imagine, a Super and a Luthor?” some question.
“No, no, no,” many claim, “she’s in love.”)
Lena doesn’t pay attention to any of it. She goes to work, meets with her board members and investors, speaks to R&D, takes conference calls from foreign businesses, forgets to eat until Jess strongholds her into it, only going home when Winn or Maggie (or sometimes Alex, when she’s not surly, when she’s not still spouting her mad claims about Kara) drag her away from the office.
And time drags on.
They have a going away celebration for James, playing board games in Kara’s honor and eating so many potstickers that Alex feels sick. They tell stories, Winn gets drunk, and James hugs both Alex and Lena tightly, promising to stay in touch—promising to be around the second they ever need him. He tells Winn that being his partner was one of the greatest things he’s ever done in his life.
Alex stops mentioning her certainty that Kara is still alive, but bags appear beneath her eyes, Maggie claims that she doesn’t know where Alex is most times, J’onn tells Lena he’s worried and he wants her help in finally putting this all to rest.
Maggie gets a promotion and the night they celebrate almost feels normal, even if there’s a wide gaping wound, a space that they attempt to fill with music and laughter, an emptiness that is palpable and harsh.
Lena invites Alex and Winn to a symposium for technological innovations, and the three of dork out. Maggie fondly calls them her favorite nerds, and even James calls from Metropolis to tease them about it.
Before Lena knows it, another month has passed, and she wonders when it became so easy to pretend she’s just fine.
x
She dreams of Kara often.
In many respects, that statement isn’t altogether strange. She’s dreamt of Kara since the day she met the bumbling reporter. She’s dreamt of them being friends, dreamt of Kara’s laugh, dreamt of the day that Kara would trust her enough to unbutton her shirt and reveal her family’s crest.
(And these dreams weren’t just dreams—eventually they became grounded in reality.
Perhaps she should have known then, perhaps she should have realized a Luthor never would have a happy ending.)
She dreams of Kara often, that isn’t what strikes her. It’s the fact that this dream feels so real.
Kara sits on her couch, laughing as she pulls takeout containers out from a bag she’s set on the table, mumbling on about something and adjusting her glasses. And Lena can’t help it, she steps away from her desk—abandoning the work she just said she was almost done with—and approaches Kara, dropping to her knees in front of her.
“Lena?” Kara asks, looking worried, a crease appearing between her eyebrows, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. She ignores it and Lena’s met with a breathtaking view of Kara’s blue eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I think I’m dreaming,” she says softly. Rather than frown or laugh like Kara usually would, Lena just gets a soft look. The crease between Kara’s eyes disappears and she tilts her head slightly to the side, actually reaching out and cupping Lena’s cheeks with her hands.
“Would it matter if it’s a dream?”
“But then you wouldn’t be real.”
Kara’s thumbs wipe at Lena’s cheeks, and it takes a moment for Lena to realize she’s dabbing away the evidence of Lena’s tears.
“I’m real, Lena,” she says, and Lena can feel Kara’s warm breath fanning over her face as she leans in closer. “I’m real and I’m here.”
(Dream-Kara smells like the Kara Lena knew. She smells vaguely sweet with a certain undertone that Lena doesn’t know how to describe other than bright. Dream-Kara is soft and warm. Dream-Kara is leaning dangerously close and Lena wonders if it would be wrong to give in, to close the last of that distance between them and find out what Kara tastes like—even if it’s a dream, even if it’s not real.)
“I miss you,” Lena finds herself mumbling, eyes fluttering shut, and she doesn’t have to wonder about the morals of kissing the dream-version of the woman she’s in love with because Kara takes the decision out of her hands entirely.
She kisses Lena hungrily, fingers threading into Lena’s hair and tugging her closer, and Lena isn’t quite sure if it’s her heart that’s hammering away or if it’s Kara’s. And when Kara releases her hair, when her teeth drag over Lena’s lips and her hands trace the contours of Lena’s body, Lena stops thinking about hearts. She accepts what Kara gives her, her own hands trembling as she desperately holds Kara to her, worried that if she releases her hold even for a moment the dream will dematerialize and she’ll be left alone again.
It’s a dream (and Lena dreams of Kara often) but damn it if it didn’t feel real.
“I’m here,” Kara tells her in between kisses—head spinning, heart pounding, world upturning, kisses. “I’m here and you’re gonna find me.”
x
“You were right!” Lena shouts, banging on the door with no thought at all to the time or how it must look. “You were right!” she shouts again, shocked when the door flies open before she can knock again.
“You better have a damn good reason for this racket, Luthor,” Alex hisses, putting her gun away and dragging Lena inside her apartment. She looks disheveled, a little more than half-asleep, and Lena considers for one moment that maybe she could’ve waited until the morning for this.
“You were right,” she says again, deciding this was urgent enough to justify pulling Alex out of bed. From the other side of the apartment, Maggie comes shuffling over, scratching at her cheek, squinting at the kitchen lights and Lena’s exuberance.
“What’s going on?” the detective asks.
“I don’t know, ask Lena, she’s the one who tried to ram her way in.”
“You were right,” Lena says again, not understanding how Alex still hasn’t caught on.
“I get it, I was right, but about what?”
“Kara.”
That’s it, that’s all it takes, that single word, uttered as barely a breath, barely a whisper, nothing more than a prayer. It’s one word and Alex’s eyes fill with tears, and before Lena knows it, the elder Danvers has rammed into her, engulfing her in a tight embrace, practically sobbing with relief.
“She’s alive,” Alex says, “she’s alive.”
“You were right, I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before, I’m so sorry I didn’t trust you.” She wants to say more but Alex has pulled away and is looking at Lena like she singlehandedly saved Kara herself, while Maggie looks vaguely suspicious.
“What brought this on, Luthor?” Maggie asks, ever the detective. “What changed your mind?”
Alex steps further away from Lena, both of them turning to look at Maggie in unison, frowning at her tone. Maggie doesn’t shy away from their stares; instead, her back straightens and her arms cross her chest defensively.
“What?” she asks when Lena and Alex merely continue to stare at her. “It’s a legitimate question.”
“Except it’s not the one you’re really asking, detective,” Lena says, eyes narrowed. “Say what you mean.” She hopes Maggie will drop it, she hopes that Maggie will raise her hands in surrender and back off.
Maggie doesn’t.
“Fine. You were supposed to help Alex accept what happened, not make all this worse.” Maggie’s tone is cold and hard, slipping into the part she plays when she’s at work, and Lena thinks she can actually spot the moment that Alex’s faith in her girlfriend slips away. Because Maggie’s tone, stance, and stubborn gaze makes one thing abundantly clear: she does not believe them.
“She’s alive,” Lena insists, looking from Maggie to Alex, noticing the elder Danvers seems distracted, her eyes now on the ground, her hands shaking. “She didn’t die.”
“For fuck’s—we all saw what happened, Lena! We all saw the attack and the fall.”
“No, we only saw what they wantedus to see,” Lena says, ignoring Maggie’s scoff and focusing on Alex. “We were convinced Kara died, but what if someone wanted it that way?”
“The entire world thinks Kara’s dead, Lena!” Maggie says, her eyes on Alex as well though she steps between the two of them, as if blocking Alex from Lena’s line of sight would somehow protect her girlfriend from what Lena is saying. “You can’t tell me that there’s someone out there that can make the entire world hallucinate something simultaneously.”
“Not the entire world, actually. Just us. We were the ones that told the world she was gone.”
“That still doesn’t explain how we were tricked—”
“—that Martians can plant images or thoughts in people’s mind with their telepathy—”
“—unless you’re accusing J’onn there aren’t any other Martians to plant anything—”
“—and Martians aren’t the only alien species who have telepathic powers!” Lena finishes, throwing her hands up in the air. She knows her cheeks are likely covered in red splotches, a flush appearing on her neck and ears thanks to the combination of frustration and pale skin, and her chest is heaving, but she doesn’t back down. She can’t.
Kara is alive, and they had to find her.
“Alex,” Lena says, looking past Maggie’s disapproving face and staring at the elder Danvers who’s remained uncharacteristically silent on the matter. “I wouldn’t be standing here if I wasn’t sure. I looked into those reports—the surges and miracles you talked about. Kara’s out there, and she’s trying to get home.”
Alex looks up and Maggie’s shoulders deflate at the fire in Alex’s eyes—the determination, the vindication, the hope,shining brightly. “Finally,” she says, squaring her shoulders and nodding. “You finally believe me.
“Alex—” Lena begins, but Alex waves her off.
“Better late than never, Luthor. But we have a lot of work to do.”
“Where do we start?”
“With Clark. If anyone knows what really happened, it’s him. I’m just going to need your help.” She grins broadly and rushes off, heading towards her bedroom—to dress, to gather her things, to call Clark, Lena doesn’t know. She just wishes that Alex hadn’t left her alone with Maggie Sawyer.
“If you’re wrong, it’ll break her. If you’re wrong, I’m coming after you,” she threatens lowly, stepping into Lena’s space.
“Don’t worry, detective. If I’m wrong, it’ll be punishment enough.”
Maggie softens at the admission—said softly and reluctantly—and she takes a step back, letting out a loud sigh and rolling her eyes. “Falling for a Danvers sister. I guess you and I have more in common than I thought.” She studies Lena’s face for a moment, likely detecting something Lena has no desire to have anyone detect or understand, and without warning she steps into Lena’s space again, this time pulling her into a hug. She holds on tightly, apparently not bothered that Lena doesn’t hug her back, not bothered that Lena’s just a little stiff and more than a little awkward. “If you and Alex believe, it’s enough for me. Let’s go get our Supergirl back, shall we?”
x
“What changed your mind?” Alex asks as the elevator stops, smiling awkwardly at a frazzled looking reporter with a stack of papers in his hands, mumbling under his breath as he gets off on his floor. When the elevator doors slide shut and they’re alone, Lena leans her head back against the wall, watching the numbers light up on the panel as they pass several floors.
“I had a dream,” she answers honestly.
“Oh?”
(It sounds like an Oh?, a ‘Oh, you had that sort of dream?’ and it makes Lena blush.
Because, yes, that’s a part of it. But it was mostly Kara’s certainty that Lena would find her. It was the reminder that Kara always hoped—always had faith—and Lena owed it to her be the same way.
And to be perfectly frank, telling Kara’s sister about her feelings for the alien is a conversation she’s not keen on having.)
“Yes.”
“Not going to elaborate?”
“Kara always believed in me. And I believe in her. And by extension you.”
“Oh damn, Maggie was right,” Alex says, eyes wide. Fortunately, Lena’s spared having to think of a response when the elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open to their floor. “After you, Luthor,” Alex says with a grin, motioning for Lena to go on ahead of her. With a huff, Lena does as she’s told, holding her head up high as they walk through the office, ignoring the looks—from shock to distrust to amusement—that follow them as they pass by cubicles. The whisperings of ‘Holy shit is that Lena Luthor?’ begin immediately, and Lena curses the entire place for the umpteenth time.
She really, really hates The Daily Planet.
They catch sight of James as they blindly walk around, and his wide smile and genuine happiness to see them puts Lena at ease despite where she is and who’s she’s surrounded by (vultures, the very vultures that destroyed her family’s name, dragging it through the mud, though admittedly, much of that dragging was deserved thanks to Lex and Lillian).
“He’s not here,” James informs them after quick greetings and a tight hug, pulling them into an empty room and closing the door behind him. “There was a fire and he went to help out, he should be back soon.”
“Thank you for this, James,” Alex says, looking relieved. “I know Clark’s your friend—”
“Don’t thank me, I looked at the footage like you said. You’re right, it’s fishy. And if tricking Clark helps us get to the bottom of it…” He trails off, clearly unwilling to state how he’s prepared to hurt his best friend in order to find Kara. “Do you think it’ll work?”
“Mr. Kent doesn’t trust me,” Lena says with an easy shrug. “I say it’ll work quite fine.”  Alex opens her mouth, almost as if she wants to reassure Lena that Clark’s alone in his reticence to trust the last remaining Luthor, but it snaps back shut when they hear a flurry and a sound of boots landing. (Lena’s sure Alex just had the same thought she did: for a moment—just a moment—they both convinced themselves they’d turn around and see Kara come in from the window, a grin in her face from the flight, her hands on her hips, hair windswept. Instead, they’re met with Clark Kent’s narrowed and suspicious eyes.)
“James? What is this?”
“We want to know where you took Kara,” Alex says before James can even open his mouth. Clark—Superman, Lena’s not really sure how to address him—stares as his best friend merely steps back and allows Alex to begin her interrogation.
“I told you the last several times you came here,” Clark begins heatedly, revealing where Alex was off to when neither Maggie or J’onn were aware of her whereabouts, “she’s gone. She’s in Rao’s light and you need to let her go.”
“My sister is not dead!”
“Alex,” Lena warns, worried they’ll be overheard. Clark seems to share the concern because he raises his hands in surrender.
“You’re sad,” he says bracingly. “I understand. I’m sad too.”
“Don’t you dare,” Alex hisses, “don’t you dare pretend you’re going through anything similar to me. I love her, I’d do anything for her. You gave her up! You sent her away! You abandoned her!”
“I loved Supergirl too—”
“Kara is not gone,” Alex interrupts, shocking Clark enough that his hands drop and his eyes flit over to Lena.
“Alex, what’re you doing—”
“I know who you are, Mr. Kent,” Lena says, rolling her eyes at the fear clear on his face. “I may not be like Lex in many respects, but neither of us are blind and glasses are not an adequate disguise.”
“Lex Luthor knows about—”
“We don’t have time for this. Tell us where you took Kara.” Lena must not sound as scary as Kara sometimes claimed she did, because Clark just groans.
“For the hundredth time, Kara is gone. I heard her heart stop.”
“Did you? Or did you just think you did?” James questions, leaning against the door. “You should listen to what they have to say, Clark. Because if they’re right, Kara’s in trouble and she needs our help.”
“And if I don’t?” Clark asks, his false bravado failing as his voice shakes even at the possibility of his cousin still being alive—at somehow having been wrong. Lena pushes aside the pity she suddenly feels for him—the sorrow that fills her at the thought that Clark has spent the last several months thinking he not only lost his only genetic relation, but one of his kind, leaving the weight of an entire civilization (not even rightly his), once on Kara’s shoulders, solely on his back—and steps forward.  
“If you don’t, Mr. Kent,” Lena says, her voice low and her tone cold, “I’ll do what my brother couldn’t bring himself to: I’ll tell the world who you really are.”
x
J’onn, Maggie, and James (as the Guardian) go over the details of the plan again, but Lena sits back, content to watch Winn argue a point, Vasquez and Lucy offering their own advice and suggestions.
It’s remarkable, really, how many people have been willing to put their hearts on the line in order to pursue this razor thin thread of hope that Alex’s faith and a bit of shaky footage has offered them. It’s remarkable how a few seconds of video—moments, mere heartbeats, really—show the relief on Clark’s face before it morphs into despair and that’s enough for all of them to practically move into the DEO and use the information Clark gave them to attempt to figure out where Kara could be.
(“I took her to the Fortress, I thought maybe Kelex could help somehow. But I had to leave—there was a plane crash over Bulgaria—and when I got back, Kara was gone and Kelex told me she’d joined her family in Rao’s light. I didn’t think to question it. I was sure I heard her heart stop.”
“If we don’t find her, it’ll be your fault.”
“I was trying to protect you, Alex. I didn’t want you to keep hoping for something that wouldn’t come true. I’m sorry. Let me help now.”
“I think you’ve done more than enough protecting, Clark,” Alex had hissed, and that was that.)
And though she knows it’s a waiting game at this point—already having done as much as she could by helping Winn design the program that could narrow Kara’s location—she feels useless and helpless. She wants to be moving, she wants to feel as if she’s accomplishing something, she wants Kara in her arms, wants to kiss her for real—admit how she feels for real.
She just wants Kara back, in any capacity. A friend, the city’s superhero, a bumbling reporter. Kara needed to come back.
“Hungry?” Alex asks, interrupting Lena’s thoughts as she plops down in the chair next to Lena, offering an energy bar. Lena shakes her head and Alex shrugs, unwrapping the bar and taking a large bite. “You know, Luthor,” she says between chews, raising one eyebrow, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clark scared till you threatened him. I’m impressed.”
“It was all in a day’s work,” Lena says proudly before her shoulders droop. “I just hope Kara doesn’t hate me for it.”
“If anything, Kara will be too busy hating me to hate you. So I think you’ll be fine.”
“Why would Kara hate you?”
She regrets the question as soon as she asks it because it makes Alex’s smile and her cheerful attitude slip away almost immediately.
“It was my fault.”
“No,” Lena immediately denies, shaking her head. “No it wasn’t.”
“Don’t lie, you’re not good at it,” Alex says mirthlessly. “It’s something you and my sister share.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“That’s the issue, isn’t it? I just…stood back. Allowed it to happen. Ignored the warning signs because of a charming smile and a few excuses.” She turns her head, and Lena looks down, wanting to spare Alex the embarrassment of seeing her cry—something she thinks the agent is tired of doing in front of Lena. “I was so involvedwith Kara’s relationship with James,” Alex continues, voice muffled. “We talked almost every night, we joked about it, I let her cry on my shoulder when Lucy came to National City. But with Mon-El—God, I didn’t even questionit. Didn’t even wonder if it was really something she wanted, but I pushed for it because I wanted her to have what I have. And when things started to fray with him, all the fights and the arguments…I just thought it was none of my business. I stayed out of it, and Lena, that’s on me.”
“You couldn’t have known he would turn out the way he did.”
“You mean violent? Aggressive? Selfish? Because I did know all that. We allknew that.”
“The only one responsible for Mon-El’s actions is Mon-El. And he got what he deserved.”
“He should’ve died. I should’ve killed him.”
“Except you’re not a killer.” Lena looks over at Alex, frowning at the strained look on her face and her tense shoulders. “Kara loves you and she wouldn’t want you to become a killer for her.”
“Technically, it wouldn’t be for her. It’d be to get rid of the worst thing to happen to this planet,” Alex says wryly, clearly attempting to joke and change the subject. But Lena’s more stubborn than Alex expects, and she doesn’t smile or even react to the comment.
“When Lex did the things he did I wondered if anything I ever accomplished would matter. After all, I’d always be tainted by Lex, his dark shadow always looming over me. In the end, it was Kara who made me see that what I do matters, that I was right in wanting to move away from Lex’s legacy.”
“Yeah?” Alex says disinterestedly, still trying to shrug this topic off.  
“Yes. Kara is living proof that regardless of all the terrible things that happen—to us or others—we still have a choice, we still have the opportunity to do as much good as we can, be as kind and accepting as possible, and change the world for the better.” Lena smiles, bumping shoulders with Alex. “You don’t pay back bad with more bad, Alex Danvers. You squash it out by overwhelming the world with good.”
“God, you’re a sap. You really love her, don’t you?” Alex says, and this time, Lena allows the subject change, ignoring the tears in Alex’s eyes.
“Yeah. I do.”
x
They get their first real break when a woman visiting family in India returns with stories of a super woman who could carry more weight than any of the men in their town, a super woman who’d single-handedly saved dozens after an earthquake caused the local hospital to collapse, reminding everyone of the fallen hero, Supergirl.
But when Lena prepares to pack, prepares to visit the area along with Alex, Lucy, J’onn, Vasquez, and others, she’s held back by Maggie.
“You and me are sitting this one out, Luthor,” Maggie tells her, leaning against the doorway to the DEO barracks where Lena’s been spending her time away from the office. She makes another mental note to give Jess a pay raise after she didn’t question why Lena asked for some of her clothes to be brought to the office—didn’t even raise an eyebrow when Lena came in every morning with yesterday’s clothing.
“Like hell we are,” Lena shoots back, resuming her packing. (Mostly it’s just essentials, a laptop to work, her phone charger to make sure she could keep up with the going-ons at L-Corp.) “I want to be there when we find Kara.”
“She might not be there.”
“Maggie—”
“I’m just being realistic. It might be a coincidence. And if it isn’t, haven’t you wondered why Kara hasn’t come back if she still has her powers? Why she’s been MIA for months?”
“Maybe she can’t. Maybe she’s hurt. Maybe she’s being threatened.”
“But she has time to help earthquake victims?”
“Dammit Maggie!” Lena shouts, at wit’s end, tired of Maggie’s endless cynicism. (And if a part of her knows it’s not cynicism but pragmatism—something Lena used to be known for, a cold logic she could apply to any situation regardless of her feelings, except apparently, when it involves Kara—she doesn’t dwell on it. She can’t.) “What do you want from me?” she asks, voice dropping to barely a whisper, collapsing onto her bunk and cradling her head in her hands.
“You’re worried. You’re scared. You’re hurt. I get it, Luthor, I do. But you’re not thinking straight. Kara’s a part of the DEO, she’s their agent, and recovering her is a mission for the DEO. Not for a lowly NCPD detective, and not for a CEO.”
“You wanted to go too, didn’t you? Who said no? J’onn? Alex?”
“Little Danvers is important to me, even if you and Alex think I’m a monster for being realistic about this whole thing.” She pauses, leaning her head against the doorway and closing her eyes briefly. “I want her to be alive too. I want her back too.” She opens her eyes and straightens, eyes determined. “I said you and Alex believing is enough for me, and I meant it. But someone has to be ready to pick up the pieces if all this goes wrong.”
“That doesn’t sound like faith, detective. It sounds like you’re waiting to play cleanup.”
“In my experience, faith doesn’t really work out.”
Lena drops her hands and finds herself smiling at Maggie, shrugging helplessly even as she resigns herself to remaining behind.
“Yes, my experience is like that too. But this is Kara. So I believe.”
Maggie snorts, shuffling over to Lena’s bunk and sitting down next to her, the two of them staring at the floor. “Like I said, how it is bubbly, happy Little Danvers attracted such stubborn people will forever be a mystery to me.”
“Probably because she’s the most stubborn of all of us.”
(And if it’s said almost like a prayer—a hope that Kara’s stubbornness gets her through this latest threat, this latest obstacle in her life as a superhero—neither Maggie nor Lena show any indication they notice it. They can’t.)
x
She spends her lunch walking in Hero’s Park.
The memorial is finished now, nearly six months after Supergirl fell to her supposed death, and it truly is breathtaking. The statue stands near a fountain that’s shaped like the House of El crest, a massive ‘S’ standing in the center, covered in words people have used to describe Supergirl. (Things like hero, brave, gentle, kind, friend, and even love.) It’s become somewhat of a tourist destination, especially after Superman came one afternoon to brush his hand over Kara’s likeness, as if he thought if he stared hard enough or hoped hard enough, the stone would dematerialize and leave a very real and very alive Kara in its place.
(He uses that visit to also come by the DEO and apologize again, offering his help again, and Lena wishes she could’ve seen Alex’s scathing response, even if J’onn accepted the aid—stating they’d need all the help they could get.)
James, Winn, and Maggie are with her, the four of them left behind, banding together in this moment, breathlessly waiting for news—for Alex’s return, if all goes right, with Kara. James keeps staring at the statue, Winn chatters nervously, and Maggie’s texting, her brows furrowed at whatever she’s reading.
Lena doesn’t ask—she worries it involves Kara and she isn’t sure she wants to know if anything’s gone wrong.
“We should have a game night to celebrate her return,” James says suddenly. “All you can eat pizza and potstickers and ice cream. Maybe some of that alien alcohol that can get Kara drunk.”
“And Monopoly,” Winn adds. “If she’s getting drunk we should play Monopoly, it’s always more fun that way.”
“And karaoke,” Maggie laughs, slipping her phone into her pocket and grinning. “Have you heard Kara sing? There’s a reason she’s called super.”
“We should invite everybody,” Winn continues. “From the DEO, Metropolis—drag Cat Grant into it if we have to. Maybe we could even get into contact with her inter-dimensional friends, Barry and Cisco and the others.” He smiles dreamily. “I can talk about the multiverse with them.”
“The first thing I’m going to do when Kara’s back is give her a hug,” Maggie says. “I miss Little Danvers’ hugs.”
“I’m going to spoil every single TV show she follows. It’s going to make her so mad,” Winn says happily, rubbing his hands together.
“I’ll just tell her that Cat’s back in charge and that Kara’s job is waiting for her if she wants it.”
“Lena?” Maggie question, coming to a halt and pulling Lena to a stop as well. “What about you?”
“I think I’ll just be happy she’s back,” Lena says, not meeting Maggie’s eyes and ignoring Winn’s blatant amusement and James’s raised eyebrows.
“Come on, Luthor,” Maggie presses.
“Yeah, Lena. There’s nothing you want to tell Kara?” Winn adds, holding back a smile.
“You know, the one obvious thing throughout all this, something you’d think one would want to confess if they got a second chance?” James asks, his eyebrows still comically raised.
“I don’t know what any of you mean,” Lena says resolutely, her chin jutting out even as she avoids all their eyes. “Kara being back would be more than enough for me.”
“Kara being back would be more than enough for all of us,” James says, actually letting out a laugh. “But take it from someone who’s been where you are—if you don’t tell her, you’ll regret it forever.”
x
Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday.
It makes her wonder sometimes, this sole fact. Because Supergirl returns quietly, without fanfare, without buzz, rolled into the DEO on a bed, injured and unconscious, Alex gripping her hand so tightly that Lena is almost sure she’s impending blood flow.
(Over the next few days, the story—the truth—begins to come out. There’s talk of spores from a starfish-like alien named Starro. How this alien has hated Superman since he and others locked Starro away, how the spores were able to not mind-control entirely but suggest certain thoughts, how Supergirl had been trying to get back for months, resisting the spore’s effects as best she could. There’s explanations as to how Superman was exposed to the spores in the first place, how he came to be so sure that Kara died in his arms, how Kara managed to leave the Fortress of Solitude as weak as she was, as confused as she was.
And the strangest thing of all, Kara’s last words before she passes out after Alex removes the spores: where’s Lena?)
Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday and it’s extraordinary in its simplicity, its easiness, the utter sense of rightness. She slips in as if she never left, as if she was never gone, as if no time has passed at all, and even though she’s laying on a bed underneath several sun lamps, Alex never straying too far from her side, she feels so permanent—so unmovable and untouchable.
Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday, and by Monday the entire world becomes aware of it as well when she saves a school bus from getting hit by a man running a red light.
(It’s as if the world is upturned again, as if they entered some sort of alternate realty. The President returns to National City for a photo op with Supergirl, shaking her hand and exclaiming how glad she is to have Supergirl back. The memorial remains in place but is called a celebratory monument. People swarm into the park, hoping to get a photo with the statue and maybe even a flash of red as Supergirl flies by overhead.
Alex calls Lena at work and tells her that Superman comes to the DEO not even a day after Supergirl wakes up, exclaiming how grateful he is to have her back, and how much they need to watch ‘that Luthor,’ much to Alex’s amusement.
James visits and admits Cat offered his job back and he thinks he might take it, realizing after some time away that the distance from his friends wasn’t something he could live with.)
(Lena doesn’t see Supergirl after that first Saturday she’s back. She wishes she could stay by Kara’s side like Alex, but she manages little more than brief visits when she has the time, and after Kara wakes up, Lena’s assaulted by reporters asking her how she feels about Supergirl’s return, embroiling L-Corp in a conversation her company shouldn’t be involved in. She’s busyand Supergirl is busy—making up for all the lost time, zooming about all hours of the day and night, no job too large or too small for her help—and it’s okay.
After all, all she needs to do when she feels overwhelmed or sad or worried is close her eyes and listen to the superhero speeding about the city, or turn on the news and witness it for herself, for her heart to settle and her mind to ease.)
And while James, Alex, Maggie, and even J’onn ask if Lena’s seen Kara yet—ask if she wants help tracking Kara down, getting her alone, admitting the truth. But they don’t understand, Lena doesn’t need anything other than knowing Supergirl is around. They don’t understand that for Lena, Supergirl’s presence in National City is enough.
Because Supergirl returns to National City on a Saturday, but more importantly, so doesKara.
x
A week passes before Lena hears that oh-so-telling thud of boots against her balcony. It’s years of lessons drilled into her head about not reacting—never showing her hand—that stops her from turning around immediately, not rushing to Kara immediately, not gushing immediately. Instead she slowly shuts her laptop and smiles as Kara steps into view, her hands on her hips, her head tilted to the side.
“Are you avoiding me, Lena Luthor?” Kara asks, the first thing she’s said to Lena since before the fall, since before the world turned upside down at the loss of their greatest hero. She’s smiling as she moves to stand in front of Lena’s desk, arms crossing over her chest, covering up her House’s coat of arms. There’s an odd sense of tension between them, a silence filled with so much going unsaid, an awkwardness that only time and distance can ever really bring about.
“I could ask you the same thing, Supergirl,” Lena says as she stares at the woman who’s her best friend, the woman she’s fallen in love with, the woman she felt so lost without. She wanted Kara back, and now that she is, it’s frustrating that it feels so strange.
“Apparently disappearing for months on end is not a good idea,” Kara says, leaning back onto the heels of her feet. “Means a lot of work when you finally get back.”
“Something to remember the next time you decide to make the entire world think you’re dead, I’m sure,” Lena says, unable to keep her eyes off Kara, roving over the curls of her hair, the blue of her eyes, the lift of her lips, the tap of her fingers, even the set of her shoulders. Lena drinks her in, storing up for another potential drought, never wanting to forget the strength of Kara’s back, the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. She’s back, Lena reminds herself. This was what she wanted. This was the thing she hoped for.
“I’m sorry about that by the way,” Kara says, dropping her gaze. “I hadn’t meant—”
“To get betrayed by someone we all trusted and then be subjected to one of Superman’s enemies? You’re not the only one who didn’t mean for that to happen, Kara. And none of it is your fault.”
“I should’ve known better,” she says, hanging her head. “I didknow better but somehow he…” Lena watches as Kara trails off, struggling to find the words to explain what went wrong, and Lena finds that enough is enough. Awkwardness and tension be damned, she gets up quickly, rounds the desk, and pulls Kara into a hug (the first hug since before the fall, since before losing her best friend, since before her world turned upside down at the loss of the woman she’s in love with).
“I missed you so much,” Lena says, wanting nothing but to show Kara how amazing she is, how wonderful she is, how utterly neededshe is. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I knew, you know,” Kara mutters into Lena’s neck, her arms wrapping around Lena’s waist pulling her closer. “I knew you and Alex wouldn’t give up on me. I knew you two would find me.”
And Lena knows that one day she and Alex will have to tell Kara about the drinking, about how everyone ignored Alex for months, about how it took a very realdream about Kara for Lena to believe as well. And she knows that one day—not today, but soon—Kara will have to talk about what happened to her, explain how it was that she fought off the spores that had so completely convinced Clark of her death.
But today, the first time Lena has seen Kara since the fall, since her supposed death, all that can wait. Today, Lena just holds on tighter to Kara, revels in her warmth, and lets out a laugh.
“I suppose Alex and I are just stubborn that way.”
x
The next time she visits Hero’s Park and the monument dedicated to Supergirl, it’s with Kara, the two of them arm in arm, Kara enjoying an ice cream cone.
“Lucy and James got back together,” Kara informs Lena suddenly, releasing Lena’s arm and turning around to walk backwards, one sticky hand holding onto Lena’s hand. “Lucy says they’re pretty happy.”
“I’m glad. James and Lucy deserve that.”
“They do. Honestly, I’m not surprised. James has been different these past few months, spending so much time at the DEO and with Lucy—it was obvious he wanted to try again.”
“I’m just glad James decided to stay in National City. I don’t think anyone would be able to control Winn’s cheating at game night otherwise.”
“I don’t think Clark’s quite forgiven James yet for what you and Alex did,” Kara says with a laugh, squeezing Lena’s hand when she looks away at the reminder. “I doubt James wants to go back to Metropolis anytime soon.”
“It’s not like I would’ve actually given away his secret. It’s not my fault he doesn’t see past my last name.”
“Exactly.”
“And I—wait. What?”
“I said exactly. I love Clark, but the man needs to relax a little bit more. All that stress probably isn’t very healthy.” Kara grins and motions towards Lena’s bench—the one she spent so much time on nearly a year ago. They sit down together, arms brushing, and like always, Lena’s heart rate spikes at merely the proximity.
“Alex says I traumatized him.”
“Pfft. Alex is the one who traumatizes people. You’re too…you for that.”
“What? What does that mean?”
“You know,” Kara gestures wildly over at Lena, her eyes wide. “You’re you.”
“I’m sorry, Kara, I don’t know what you mean—”
“—you’re aloof but really warm and kind behind all that standoffishness and it’s just…you. An oxymoron personified.”  
“If you say so…” Lena mumbles, not at all sure if she should be insulted or not. She’s not even quite sure if she wantsto be her, as Kara puts it. Mostly, she wishes she was anyone but herself.
“James told me to wait for you,” Kara says, making Lena lose her train of thought and turn to her in confusion, “but I’m sort of tired of waiting because, well, I’m not the most patient person ever.”
“No, you’re really not.”
“And the thing is, I’ve told Alex, but I haven’t told you because I was scared, but you being you…I mean, that’s what saved me.”
Lena laughs, rolling her eyes and bumping shoulders with Kara. “Are you talking about that attack on L-Corp earlier this week? For the last time, Kara, I didn’t saveyou, I just did what I had to do to. Besides, he was myformer employee, if anything it’s my fault that—”
“I’m talking about last year, Lena. About the spores and being stranded at the Fortress of Solitude.” That shuts Lena up, her mouth snapping close, her eyes somehow fixed on Kara’s uncharacteristically serious face. “I’d get these flashes of you,” she continues. “Of something you said, something you did, and I’d realize that whatever was happening wasn’t real. Because of you. Because youfelt real.” She laughs, returning to her normal, bumbling self, her hands adjusting her glasses awkwardly, her lips twisted into a wry smile. “You saved me from my own thoughts and I guess—”
This time, it’s Lena’s turn to interrupt Kara. Not with words, not with a look, but by leaning in and pressing their lips together in a kiss remarkably similar to the one she dreamed about, momentarily making Lena question whether what’s happening is real or not.
And when she pulls away to see Kara’s eyes flutter open, a thrilled grin on her lips, Lena finds herself falling yet again.
But in a good way—in the only way that matters.
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