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i-need-air · 3 years

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"Dude" — Bakugou Katsuki x Reader.

Summary: Your former bully, Midori, has confessed her undying love for one of the most famous guys at U.A.; you're just venting gossiping about it with Mei, not knowing Bakugou Katsuki is right around the corner, listening;

Warnings: None. Well, Bakugou Katsuki having various anger induced strokes > the normal > no warnings; light crackfic? subtle ending;

Word count: 4.5k;

[ Part 2 ];

"She confessed to him." You grinned, throwing a bunch of fries into your mouth like the absolute animal you were.

Mei on the other hand continued her work on whatever in the world her new prototype, or "baby", was. Still, you had the honor of having half of her attention, which was a compliment to say at least.

She just smiled, shaking her head, leading you to continue, not knowing a blond was quite literally behind the corner, just outside the door leading to the support department, frown on his face.

"She came to class giggling like an idiot saying she's got a plan." You made a face into the distance, remembering your classmate's obnoxious squeal. "Ugh, she started telling the Divas how she's gonna have The Bakugou Katsuki in the bag." An ugly snort left your body, which earned an amused chuckle from Mei.

Both of you were pretty well known to be very good friends, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were both quite the social pariahs too. She was a little bit strange or weird, as some called her, but not for a single second she cared, which was the reason you admired the girl so much in the first place. Meanwhile you've taken the role of the bitch of the whole school by far. Sadly, you were placed in the same class as your archenemy, only increasing your chances of being called said endearing term.

Middle-school was a nightmare to say at least, getting bullied for your looks, the way you spoke or dressed, anything really as long as you were the one being mocked. And who was the one doing the bullying? Midori. Stunning, graceful, baby-faced Midori. Petite yet elegant, a devil in disguise. Whoever crossed her path suffered her malice unless she had something to gain from them.

And now, sweet Midori was in the U.A.'s General Studies, coinciding with you in the majority but not all classes. It had to do with the tragedy that your quirk was so rare that the principal Nezu had to adjust a new schedule just for you. Just kidding, it was amazing. The actual tragedy was seeing her face every day.

Back to your heartbreaking backstory and origin; time made you tough, comments made you build a wall so tall and thick nobody could crumble it. Backstab after backstab made you learn that not everyone has good intentions, but in your loneliness you found Hatsume Mei. So honest and dedicated, so raw and passionate. A good person. The type of person your parents promised you'd someway cross paths with and gain such a strong friendship that nothing could tear it apart.

Becoming friends with her was easy, kinda. It took snapping back at Midori when she started her normal bullying routine on Mei, which ignored it without a care. You stepped in and the rest is history. It did feel good though, calling her a pathetic bitch before turning to the stranger with a cool gadget in her hands to compliment it. And, since she's a sucker for her babies, you had to deal with an hour of sparkly eyes and monologues about her plans and prototypes.

Funny girl, Mei. You remember thinking but the following day you passed by her usual spot to fill your curiosity, asking if she did solve the problem she was complaining about.

"He was the one she was planning to ask out?" She screamed at you, head inside a giant metal gauntlet and the reason you two started talking about said man in particular. News were extra-fresh anyway.

"Oh, yeah!" You shook your head, ashamed to exist in the same general proximity as a person like your former bully. "He's gonna be so rich and famous!" A high pitched squeal left your mouth as you tried to copy her voice. "Poor fucking guy, if only he knew."

"But people know she's a bitch!" She screamed again, repairing or adjusting something with almost all of her body inside the gauntlet. A smile, genuine and soft this time, formed on your face. The pink-haired girl wasn't one to talk bad about others or even care, but it was clear she wasn't particularly fond with Midori either, although the conversation was more for you to vent rather than gossip. Sure it was.

"Like the people from the Hero Department even care about us, the commoners." With a roll of the eyes, you followed. "If he's smart, he'll run away. If he's an asshole, he could use her too."

"What do you mean?" Pink flocks of hair suddently submerged from the gadget, eyes curious zooming on you. That probably got more than 50% of her attention and it was a new personal goal while she was at the workshop.

With shrugged shoulders, your answer came nonchalant. "He could date her and dump her like she's nothing. Would serve her right for all the shit she's talking about him." But the only response you got was a short quizzical look, followed by your exagerated sigh. "She's talking shit about him constantly, but then says he's hot and that his personality doesn't matter anyway. Money, fame, looks. She has a whole fucking life-plan! Then calls him a rabid dog!"

"Woah—" that surprised her.

"Woah indeed! Insane. It's insane. I don't know the guy but no one deserves that shit." When you got no response, you continued your speech, munching in the food with passionate hunger, words coming out almost indistinguishable. "Doubt he'd play her though. He looks like a smart guy. I've seen the Sports Festival—" you picked up your burger, giving it heart eyes. "—and I've seen the news. He's probably a good guy too, the issue is people don't see that and... Well, I understand what's it to be judged... Not many have what it takes to be a real hero but he does. Hope he finds happiness in life." Much talk for someone that doesn't know shit about the guy in particular, but even so faint, your gut instinct was trained well enough to spot malice and he lacked that. "And a therapist." And there's the little shit in you that had to drop a cheeky comment.

Mei's gaze turned downwards and even if you could see her brain do mental gymnastics to solve whatever problem she had in front of her super-eyes, she also contemplated your words with great care.

"He comes here from time to time—" she grins, smacking the grenade looking gauntlet with her weird utensil. "I noticed you two are similar." Your face twisted, eyes wide towards the girl.

Similar how? He was loud, bold with a foul mouth, definitely needed a therapist for those unresolved anger issues... But he was also bright as in whenever he went, people looked in his direction, like he shined; obviously strong, also from what you've heard smart, popular, lucky to be surrounded by kind people. Example being that very nice pink girl that had a joyous conversation with you the very first day of school and, much to your surprise, continued greeting and having sweet small talks with you every single time you saw each other. Or the blond haired guy that showed off a little bit too much and made dumb flirty comments with no bad intentions, the same blond that waved at you with enthusiasm when you'd cross paths. There was the red-head, Kirishima, that was an absolute gentleman, opening doors for you even if you had two functioning hands and smiled so bright it made your corneas burn, or also the dark haired guy, Sero, that you've seen helping literally anyone in need around the school campus with an easy going attitude and gentle grins. Bakugou Katsuki was surrounded by good people, good heroes just as amazing as him and if they liked him, he must've definitely had some good in him, right? Another point appeared in your mental presentation about the brash hero in the making was that he was way too attractive but the wise burried deep inside of you made that particular point dissappear. No need to think about that. Overall you weren't even remotely similar. Not even close. Two completely different human beings from two completely different worlds that would never collide. With that being said, there was the small chance that Mei hinted for you to get a therapist too, who knows.

"How even—"

"I mean!" She screwed something in place. "I mean in your— determination?"

"I wouldn't know that." You muttered.

"He screams I'm gonna be the best every time he's here—"

"Cute..." You vomit that endearment without thinking, but thankfully it got ignored.

"—and it always reminds me of you." A small chuckle left your mouth.

"Don't make fun of me."

"You say it too~"

"I just heal, Mei, it's not the same." Principal Nezu's speech, the speech he gave your parents months into the first year as they found themselves aware of your power made you hold your words. You had it in you. The potential. If incredible people like your teachers, like Shuzenji Chiyo or Principal Nezu twisted things around for your quirk, for how rare and powerful it is, you'd accept it.

"But you're gonna be the best healer ever, aren't you?" She taunted.

"Of course. Which reminds me—!"

"Hmm?" Her attention faded away slightly, but it wasn't a problem.

She cheered, both at you and at her finished masterpiece and proceeded to eat too, passing through the lunch hour without interruption.

"Recovery Girl is putting me on active duty at the infirmary from now on. Finally!"

Innocent pale purple eyes stared into deep crimson ones, furrowed brows covering them.

—

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't one to enjoy being annoyed or surprised and this extra managed to make him feel both things in a short notice.

Everyone around him froze in fear or wonder, awaiting his response without breathing or moving an inch. Meanwhile Whoever-she-was held a pink envelope in front of him, a perfume too sweet coming from it making him want to literally gag in the spot.

Another thing the boy did not appreciate was to have someone bullshit him. His senses were telling him to back off, alarms ringing in his head and those purple eyes held hidden intentions; he wasn't having any of it.

"Fuck off." He snapped, yet his stance was casual as he refused to move out of her way since she was the one that had the audacity to run into him.

Some gasps, even coming from his so-called idiotic friends, could be heard and an indignant Bakubro behind him as he got slapped in the shoulder but he did not care. Not until her lips started to tremble as she retreated her confession letter towards her chest dramatically. His eyebrow started to twitch at the sight.

It was a spectacle for anyone surrounding him.

"What's going on?" Shushes and whispers.

"Bakugou Katsuki just got a confession!" Gossip.

"What!? Who?!" Confusion.

"You said Bakugou Katsuki?!" Shock.

"Oh, she's pretty!" Awe.

"He told her to Fuck off! What an asshole!" Outrage.

"Is that Midori?" Surprise.

"The nerve—" Anger.

"Midori from—" Disbelief.

"Oh, my God, she's really doing it~!" Giggles.

He frowned deeper. If people were to talk about him, they should be talking about all the crap he's been doing and all the lives he saved, not because of a fake bimbo decided to cross his path.

Bakugou wasn't stupid either. With time he knew these things would eventually come in his direction, stuff he'd have to deal with in the future as fame would take over, but not now. He did not have time to entertain this show anyway.

There was only one destination in his mind and she was keeping him in the middle of the whole school cafeteria with prying eyes on them both.

"Bakugou, do something, she's about to cry!" Dunce Face harshly whispered, but turned towards the white haired girl that looked devastated in front of them. "Ignore him! Ask me out, I would never make you cry!"

He rolled his eyes so back in his head it almost hurt. With a need to hurl the food he just ate, he made a step to leave the scene but small hands with claw-like fingernails gripped his arm and he looked at her in utter disgust.

"No, I would never! He—" she sniffled but had no tears in her eyes. He gave her a scowl, trying to take his arm out of her grip but she scratched him in place with her tiny rat hands. "You're the one I love! I—" her bangs covered her face as she continued her show.

"Bakugou! Dude! Do something!" Shitty Hair said, his dumb and blind trust in people buying the act. A vein almost popped on Bakugou's forehead.

"I fucking said—" he pulled his arm so hard she fell on her knees by his side. "Fuck. Off."

Another set of gasps filled the room.

"Bakugou!"

One thing he did not want, even if he could tell it was a foul theater, was to hurt somebody. His asshole act ended at that but his pride stopped him from saying anything.

Glancing to see if she's hurt, Pink Idiot was by her side, helping her up and asking way too many fucking questions.

"No, I'm fine..." she said with such a meek voice he scoffed, also hearing all the shit everyone around him was talking.

"He's such a brute."

"What a mean guy—"

"She's crying!"

"Fucking asshole."

He gritted his teeth.

After the disaster with the League of Villains in the first year, people started to respect him for who he was yet one single, minuscule shit like this and they were all at his jugular.

"I took Bakugou-san by surprise." She excused his behavior to Ashido, which then suggested they should eat lunch together sometimes to make up for the trouble after apologizing in his behalf.

"Yeah, we'd love to have you around! Isn't that right, Bakugou?" The apologetic and almost pleading voice of his blond friend, if he ever was going to call him that anymore, just made him bare his teeth. If they wanted to get played like fools it was their problem, not his.

And that's how he found himself eavesdropping on the weirdo and an extra.

And with a single "Whatever." he left the cafeteria, going to check if his gauntlets were ready, annoyance oozing off him, making the sea of people part from his path. Except he didn't notice you rushing away a little bit in front of him, holding a bag of food, all amused.

Why the fuck was everyone talking about him? Can't they fucking keep his pretty name outta their mouths? With time and without finding a reason why the hell he was glued in place, he listened attentively, his suspicions confirmed and his ego hurt, but whoever was talking about him calmed his nerves a lot. He just needed to put a face to that voice. Just to see who's gossiping about him, nothing else.

—

With a full belly and a whole afternoon to study by Recovery Girl's side, you marched towards the infirmary after you bid your farewell to Mei. There was still time to walk around, grab something sweet for later and save any poor soul that Midori decided to sink her teeth in. It was common at this point, you getting in between her and her victims and taking the hit, yet somehow also being called a bitch by everyone. That's how high-school worked. She did have friends and they spread any word she spat. Vultures.

It was fine though. Hero [Y/N] is there to save the day no matter what. You scoffed at your own stupidity, turning the corner just to step on a leg that was sprawled on the floor.

He clicked his tongue, getting up with no worry in the world, but made no action to leave, settling for observing and analyzing you way too intensely.

"Watch where the fuck you're going, idiot." The man of the hour, the guy you've defended in front of your friend just screamed at you as he dusted off the imprint of your shoe left on his pants. Meanwhile you just paled in place before regaining your composture.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" You said, tilting your head with a frown, already knowing you will not apologize.

Unimpressed by what was going on, even if you truly couldn't point out what really was going on, you made an attempt to move past him towards the vending machines not far behind, but he caught your arm in a firm grip.

You blinked stupidly at the skin contact.

"Heard you were talkin' shit."

Your stomach dropped. Legs almost gave up too if it weren't for his iron grip holding you still. In the silence and at the satisfaction of the reaction you let out, he smirked and raised his chin, only Mei's singing voice coming from her workshop could be heard. Realization hit you. Hit you? Bitchslapped you in the face and left a mark for sure, because your cheeks started feeling heated, tingly.

He dragged you away, maybe to have the privacy to murder you in peace, but your common sense kicked in and you came back from the land of the mortified.

Much like he did before, action you saw with your two own eyes and repeated, you pulled out of his strong grip and stared as he turned towards you, mouth already opened to probably eat you alive.

"I wasn't talking shit about you, dude." You quickly spoke first.

"You don't fucking know me." He growled back, taking a step towards you but like hell you'd back down.

"Don't need to be besties to say what I said." Without understanding why he was so agitated, the only thing left to do after this beautiful turn of events was to defend the honor remaining in you, so you raised your chin to be at par with him. The action clearly took him by surprise, making him glare more, if even possible.

"I don't fucking appreciate when extras talk about me behind my back!"

"I don't give a shit what you appreciate, dude." Your laugh was the complete opposite of his menacing loud voice, like ying and yang.

"Bakugou, the name's fucking Bakugou, you extra!" Bakugou recovered quickly at your snappy self, getting more bothered as you talked.

"Okay, dude." His hands fisted, shaking in place as he stared you down but did not continue.

Silence; the hallway was now filled with silence as he boiled in his own anger and as you raised your brows in confusion. Now what? Was it time to leave? You've never met anyone like him, this was peculiar—

"NOW IT'S WHEN YOU FUCKING TELL ME YOUR SHITTY NAME, YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!"

A second passes; two; at the third you're wheezing your lungs out, laughing at the ridiculousness of the scenario.

"What the fuck are you LAUGHING AT?!" His voice got louder just to top your howling. You did not expect that.

Through a sigh, regaining your breath, you say "It's [L/N] [Y/N].", seeing him retreat in his form and cross his arms. He was still seizing you up.

"If you have shit to say to me, say it to my fucking face, understood?"

"I—... Say what now?"

"I—." He copied in a mock, getting an incredulous look from you. "You stupid or what?" Your upper lip lifted, ready to cuss him to infinity and beyond but he continued. "Like about that bitch from before and shit—" even if he still was loud, he placed his hands in his pockets and looked more interested in the way the tiles on the wall were placed instead of your person. "An' like you told the weirdo—"

No time to be shocked at the implied; his last word enraged you, making your body shake with rage. "Don't fucking dare to call her a weirdo ever again."

Like a challenge, he snapped his face back at you, ready to take it.

"Or what?"

"Listen here, fucker—" now that was a nice surprised face he was pulling. "Just because I gave you a pat on the back in there doesn't mean you can disrespect people just because you think you're the shit. You're not. Now get out of my fucking way." With a final push to his shoulder, your mind was focused on going to the infirmary, steam almost coming out of your nostrils.

"Hey, extra!"

Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him. went through your mind, marching away without a glance back. Not until—

"[L/N]! You're a healer, hah?" That's interesting. He stood where you left him, watching.

"What's it to you?"

Someone sane would've left at your tone but this guy walked towards you then showed you his arms, recently scratched. Images came back to you about the cafeteria incident but did not underst—... did he want to get healed?

You scoffed.

"They're scratches, dude."

"They annoy me. Now heal." All the energy you had left in your body was channeled towards the slow blink you threw at him, at which he scoffed. But they did look nasty— and Midori did them. It was a curse by itself to look down at your own arms and remember that face, so the guardian angel in you decided to take control and be the better person.

Gentle fingers barely tapped his muscular arm. Smile crept up on your lips, feeling absolutely delighted at his obvious stiffness at the skin contact and the clear interest in his eyes, specially when the scratches started disappearing into nothing, leaving smooth silk skin under.

"Hey— Wha— Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" raspy voice got lost in the distance and one thought in your head.

"Want a lollipop for being a good patient too?" You mock and his face explodes in all shapes of red. It would've been great to mock him more, enthralled by his reactions, but with that you turned and left, ignoring the tingling under your fingers that should not be there and your stomping heart.

Did he wait all the lunchbreak to talk to you?

—

A long queue was ahead of you, earning the longest sigh out of your lungs. Life was pain sometimes. Mei couldn't hang out, food was too far away, the delicious croissants Lunch Rush made ran out as far as you could see. Pain. Just pure pain.

And disappointment. When you walked away with your food in a bag, maybe to sit under a tree and enjoy some peace and quiet, you saw her. Midori sitting at a table you did not expect. At the same table where Ashido Mina, Denki Kaminari, Kirishima Eijirou and Hanta Sero sat at. Good people. Honest, good people about to get bitten by a snake. If she was there, then Bakugou decided—

"You. Sit."

Thinking about the boy somehow summoned him behind you. Food in hand and bored expression on his face, he passed you not without giving you a stink eye. Indeed, disappointment.

You shrugged, trying not to pay much attention to the pang in your heart as you moved forward, but a voice— his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You. Get the fuck out of my face." His growl made everyone around him turn to watch, you being one of them. There was no excuse to what came next, no way to run away past it and dissappear. He nodded his head at you out of all people and pointed at the seat still occupied by Midori; her purple eyes big, shocked, running between your frame and the blond's.

Do you know what it felt to be put in the spotlight without warning? Well, congratulations because that was your life now.

"Ba—Bakugou-san?" Her voice, now highed up and meek followed, then a small scream as Bakugou slammed his food on the table. His friends sat there, wide-eyed, but made no attempt to interrupt.

"Did I fucking stutter, bitch? Or want me to turn into a rabid dog for fucking real?"

You choked on your own spit, bag of goodies about to drop on the floor once you saw her horrified face. She knew that he knew. And when her pale eyes, filled with sudden malice, act dropped, turned to you it's when you realized she figured out where he found out from.

Not like you cared, really, but the little shit that always had to poke out every time she was in the same room as you decided to finally show up, making you wave and send her a wink.

"I said MOVE!" now— that growl, raspy and filled with anger startled her. The orange juice in her hands spilled all over her uniform and woke her up from whatever delusion she was in. With zero time to reconsider, every belonging of hers was picked up with trembling hands and she ran away to her group of cockroaches.

A smile was already settled on your face; your brain was storing that whole interaction deep within, ready to bring it back up whenever you needed a good laugh.

Life was pain and disappointment, you say? No. Life was great. Or more importantly, Bakugou was. Not like he needed to know. But he was a decent guy as he proved—

"THE FUCK YOU STANDING THERE LIKE A DUMBASS?! I SAID SIT!" —to be a pain in the fucking ass and the bane of your existence.

You gave him a face then turned to walk away, even rushing more when you heard his chair screeching on the floor. The exit was so close, so near, freedom never felt this great, the sunlight kissing your skin giving you a new hope to live. But not for long because he grabbed your hand and started dragging you towards his table.

Your hand was in his hand and he was dragging you—

Your hand— his big, warm, a little bit sweaty hand—

How could you ruin such a beautiful moment? Eyes on you two, shocked, silence, his adorable red ears being the only thing you could see as he was completely in front of you, still dragging you towards his friends...

"Did you wait all lunchbreak yesterday to talk to me?" You collided into him as you finished the sentence, his way taller form stiffened so much you felt you single-handedly broke Bakugou Katsuki for good.

But when he turned... Oh, when he turned. Biggest deer-caught-in-the-headlights eyes you've ever seen on anyone, cheeks painted so red you almost melted in the spot, lips trembling as his head worked a thousand miles per second just to find a retort. And you prepared yourself for—

"NO, I FUCKING DIDN'T! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU FUCKING EXTRA? I'D NEVER WAIT FOR SOMEONE LIKE YO— ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME!" Mina's waving hand caught your attention and smiled at her. Your hand was still in his, gripped harshly as he still hasn't noticed it's still there.

"Hey! [L/N], long time no see!" She cheered, ignoring the living shit out of her screaming friend, like she's used to it.

"FUCKING LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU—"

"Hey, chill, dude. Now let go of my hand, I wanna talk to Ashido." You smiled sweetly, making extra effort to wave your linked hands arond until he finally noticed. He zapped his hand away so fast, like he's been bitten by a wild animal. Maybe even a rabid dog, if you will.

You couldn't ignore your own flustered state as you walked past him, giving him a one up, adding the absolute scandalized face he had into the back of your mind for safekeeping.

"Come sit with us!" The pinkette offered.

"Oh, hey, I know you! You're by Hatsume's workshop all the time!" Kirishima intervened with a surprised face that broke into a grin. "Nice to officially meet—"

"I fucking said." he appeared, sitting in front of you. "My name's Bakugou."

"Ok, dude, but I'm talking to someon—"

"BAKUGOU KATSUKI!" Could be heard from the stratosphere.

Note: I just realized Midori means Green [ fucking duh ] but I'm not gonna change the name or her description. I think her parents fucking up her name was the start of many accidents leading into the Midori we all know and hate. Also, I know you understand. We all know a Midori in our lives. Much love.

Note 2: I keep editing it but tumblr dot com slash Install App on Phone fucks my editing and switches paragraphs all around! If you find any PLEASE tell me, I'd really appreciate it!!!

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #noire writes #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #i just wanted to make myself uwu #reader is op

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kurtstinypurse · 4 years

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Top 5 Klaine fics?

ANOTHER GOOD QUESTION.

I’m a bad person that reads a bunch of fanfic but then doesn’t bookmark them or anything, so they just go into the void, one after the other. I will forever be in the endless cycle of “ah, I remember a fic that ___” and then never find it again.

I’m trying to do better.

Here are 5 that really made an impression on me:

Down on the Corner by flowerfan

AU after Season 5/ Alt!s6. Blaine went back to Lima after the breakup, but Kurt stayed in New York. They do in fact reunite on the corner outside the loft in six months, but it doesn't go as either of them expected. Over the course of the next year, Blaine struggles to find himself, and Kurt struggles to find Blaine. And while they both realize that love doesn’t necessarily conquer all, they discover that it definitely helps.

I loved the exploration of Blaine’s experience with depression, and I really appreciated the boundaries he set with Kurt. I’m such a slut for communication, ESPECIALLY Kurt and Blaine communicating, and this hit all my marks. I have so many thoughts about S6, and I can only hope that my S6 rewrite fic ends up even coming close to holding a candle to this one.

Someone Like You by iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of "When Harry Met Sally" for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is... they're both in committed relationships.

I read this one recently and fell in love. I generally shy away from super long fics (it’s 100k+), but this one never felt long to me. I’m such a sucker for friends-that-could’ve-been-more-but-never-quite-got-there, and I am completely in love with New Mexico, so the setting was perfect, too. The writing really stuck with me and perfectly captured the intensity of love they have for one another and how far in denial they were about it. Do you need something? haunts me. Oof.

Is It Weird? by a_simple_rainbow

Blaine sends his Topics in Contemporary Music mid-term essay to the wrong e-mail address, writing an extra m where it was supposed to read Humel. Kurt, spending a semester abroad in Paris, is having a challenging night of essay writing and procrastination, and goes a little bit beyond letting Blaine know he got the wrong person, sparking what will soon be described as a "weird pen-palish thing we got going on" that takes them both by surprise and leaves them hopeful and giddy.

I’m also a sucker for a good penpal situation, and this one is just. The best.

life is like a song (I want you to sing to me) by luthien82

AU-ish - Kurt and Blaine have been best friends since college. They would do anything for each other, which Blaine proves when Kurt confesses he has to go home for a wedding - a wedding where everyone expects him to bring his long time boyfriend. The thing is: Kurt doesn't have one. But he has a Blaine, who is willing to help. Enter one group of crazy, well meaning friends, a week full of wedding preparations, and lots of sexual tension and you've got yourself a mix that's just bound to blow up in their faces...

The fake/pretend relationship trope could hit me with a car and I would say thank you. I love it. I just. Love it. (Alternate Pick: Only Pretending (Or Not At All) by little_escapist

Virtually Indistinguishable by Lepidopteran

Blaine is an inexperienced sub looking for an introduction to D/s through a virtual reality program called SafePlay. Unbeknownst to him, a bug in the program makes the program match him with a real person instead of the AI he thinks he's getting. But the more sessions Blaine has with Kurt, the more he wishes that Kurt were real…

Alright, I’ll admit it. I like reading D/s and I think Kurt and Blaine fit the roles very well. This virtual reality aspect was really intriguing to me, and added a nice layer of pining and obliviousness.

This is probably way more than you bargained for, but I had fun. Now I gotta work on my library. Thanks a bunch!!

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stennnn06 · 7 years

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In Plain Sight

What happens when Supergirl inadvertently blurts out her real name when first meeting the sister of Earth's most notorious alien hater? Fluff, friendship and deeper feelings, of course.

A SuperCorp Collab w/ @mssirey (an HONOR AND PLEASURE!). Please enjoy!

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

National City was turning out to be just as susceptible to Lex’s influence. Lena closed her eyes, trying to block out the way the helicopter spun and lost altitude rapidly. She refused to pray, but hoped that her death would be quick, that she would die on impact. That was the best foreseeable outcome, the one with the least suffering.

The helicopter lurched, pulled sharply out of its spiral, and Lena wondered if that was the crash. She felt no pain and there was no coinciding concussive blast. It did not make sense and she forced her eyes open, frantically taking in the cockpit. Her eyes were drawn to the blue that stood stark against the smoke and flames, on the opposite side of the helicopter.

Her initial thought went to Superman, but then she caught the blonde. There was a moment, while she tried to piece things together, that the world seemed quiet. Time moved slowly as the helicopter was lowered to the rooftop and then she met the gaze of her savior. Brilliant blue eyes swirled with a mix of concern and relief.

Time resumed its natural flow and Lena threw off her headset. Her hand pried at the latch to the cockpit door, but the metal was warped and her efforts became more wild and desperate. A hand on the other side of the window stopped her. The hero shook her head and motioned for Lena to let go of the handle. Once she did, the door was ripped from its hinges and the cockpit flooded with new air, replacing the smell of fear with that of smoke. Lena breathed deeply.

Her hands shook and the hero offered to help her with the buckles of her safety straps. She nodded and let much steadier hands invade her space. The hero cooed words about her being safe, a welcoming sound as her head pounded. She was coaxed forward, out of her seat, but her legs felt numb as she attempted to stand. They shook as they tried to hold her weight and felt like they might collapse beneath her before she settled for gripping the forearm of her savior.

“Hey, it’s alright,” hands moved to brace her, “I’ve got you.”

She took soothing breaths, aimed to regulate her heart. She did not need the support, she reminded herself. She looked up as she felt her legs wobble less and took in the renowned hero of National City. With a suit in the same styling of Superman, it was unquestionable who she was. And what she was. Lena could see the posture that spoke of strength and movement that was too smooth to be human. Her blonde hair seemed immaculate, despite the efforts she displayed in saving Lena.

As she regarded the hero, she noted a rise in the coloring of the hero’s cheeks and a mild stupor had overtaken her. Lena wished she had the breath to comment. “Hi,” the hero started again, “my name is Kara-” The hero blanched and swallowed. “Supergirl,” she hastily amended. “I’m Supergirl. And you are safe now.”

Lena was not given an opportunity to speak before Supergirl retreated, citing being needed elsewhere. Lena let her go and was escorted shortly after to her office by agents that seemed connected to Supergirl, but that were indistinguishable as any particular organization.

She settled into her chair and let her heartrate fall into its typical steady rhythm. She let minutes pass with her head back and her eyes closed.

Lena was startled by a tapping on the glass of her balcony door. She rose and unlocked the door to grant Supergirl access. “You realize this is not meant to be an entrance,” she said.

Supergirl shrugged. “I didn’t want to make a scene coming up the elevator.”

“How thoughtful,” Lena mused. She noted the determined stoicism Supergirl had mustered since her introduction. “You have my gratitude.”

Supergirl nodded curtly. “It’s what I do.”

“So I’ve heard,” Lena stated. “In fact, I have heard a lot about you, Supergirl.” She smirked, prepared to challenge Supergirl’s facade of aloofness.

“I’m sure you have.” Supergirl had her arms crossed just beneath her insignia.

“If you are going to accuse me of subscribing to Lex’s views on you Supers, just come out with it,” Lena mimicked Supergirl’s stance.

The hero paused and her head tilted as she regarded Lena. “I am not here to pass judgment,” she assured, “and certainly not without foundation.”

“Well aren’t you a model to aspire to,” Lena quipped. “Why are you here, then?”

Supergirl’s brow furrowed, like she did not expect the question. “To make sure you are alright.” There was a hint of uncertainty to her words.

Lena tried to hide her own surprise. Of course Supergirl was there to check up on her, to further enforce her image of perfection. “I’m fine,” Lena assured. “It’s hardly the first time my life has been threatened.”

Supergirl’s jaw tightened and her eyes bore such unexpected sympathy. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” she professed.

Lena arched a brow. “Are you typically so devoted to protecting specific people or am I special?”

It was worth it to see the light flush in Supergirl’s cheeks and the falter in her otherwise bold posture. “It is not overcompensation for you being a Luthor, if that is what you are implying,” the hero stated.

Lena chuckled. “It wasn’t, but now that you’ve said it, I am forced to wonder.”

“Please don’t,” Supergirl had dropped her hands to her sides, where she loosely clenched her her fists, “I mean it when I say that I know what it is to be judged for something that is out of your control.”

Lena exhaled a soft laugh. “Don’t worry. Unlike my brother, I give people time to show their true colors.”

Supergirl smiled before looking down. “Well, I wear mine proudly,” she said, her hand extended slightly forward for a moment, as if she was offering a promise.

“We shall see,” Lena chuckled wryly. “Thank you for saving me and for stopping by, but I do have a phone call I need to make.”

“Of course. I shall see you again.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” Lena quipped and Supergirl nodded with a smile as she stepped out onto the balcony. They held each other’s gaze through the glass for a moment before Supergirl shot up into the air. “Until next time, Kara.”

Kara.

The name ran itself through her mind over and over again on a loop, the particular sound of the pronunciation dancing its way on her tongue when she practiced forming her mouth around it.

Kara.

It was strangely foreign and still somehow familiar all at the same time, a complicated feeling and a name she wouldn’t soon forget.

It had been rushed and frantic, a chaotic introduction after a fast paced adrenaline-rushed event, but she was sure Supergirl had uttered her real name in her haste to rescue Lena from peril. The moment felt fleeting, and the more Lena tried to replay it, the more it slipped just slightly from her grasp. The details were fuzzy, the setting muted, but the one thing that remained loud and clear was that name. Kara.

She sat back in her chair and stared out the window, racking her brain to think of any connections she might have to that name, but she knew her efforts were futile. She had never heard of a Kara in her life, and she was fairly confident she wouldn’t be hearing of another anytime soon. If Supergirl had truly made a mistake, then it would stand to reason that the hero would be avoiding the youngest Luthor for quite some time.

Her wandering thoughts were harshly interrupted when Jess buzzed in to remind her about her early interview with the notorious Clark Kent from the Daily Planet. There was no rest for the wicked, she lamented, and nothing reminded her of this fact more than a visit from her brother’s nemesis. Cape or no cape, Lena knew what Clark Kent was about, and with all the rumors circulating since her arrival to National City, she could only imagine what interrogation he had planned for her.

When he arrived a half hour later, he wasn’t alone. In fact, it turned out Clark Kent wasn’t the one that was going to catch Lena off guard at all. Instead, it was the cheerful blonde sidekick that waltzed into Lena’s office, flanking Clark tentatively and flashing a pair of deep blue eyes at Lena, the color of which were only partially hidden behind thick rimmed glasses.

Lena didn’t see her at first as much as she felt her -- a warm presence that seemed to slow everything down in a comforting way, one that Lena could have sworn she knew from somewhere. She couldn’t focus on it, however, with Clark in her ear rambling about how lucky it was that she wasn’t on board the Venture when it exploded, which was clearly the topic of his investigation.

She knew Clark was implying luck had nothing to do with it. More like meticulous planning with nefarious intentions. All in a day’s work for a Luthor.

“Well, lucky was Superman saving the day,” Lena snapped, giving due credit but still remaining professionally hostile. If he wanted answers, he was going to to have to work for them. Not that she had anything to hide, but her pride wasn’t going to crumble so easily.

“Ah, not something one expects a Luthor to say,” Clark was quick to retort, which only fueled Lena’s annoyance with his presence even more. She bit back a comment and busied herself with hanging up her coat when she heard the voice behind her speak up.

“Supergirl was there too!” the blonde interjected, and Lena turned just in time to catch her pointing adamantly, reaching back to adjust her glasses, as if she wasn’t quite sure why she felt the need to proclaim this fact.

As if Lena would ever forget. The wind blown blonde hair. The confident pose. The soft, gentle voice.

Lena’s gaze shifted and their eyes locked on each other for the first time. It was bold, electric, and strangely...familiar. Lena tilted her head thoughtfully, her lips curling in realization. Even without Supergirl’s intervention with the Venture, or her earlier ministrations with Lena herself, she would know those eyes anywhere, she was sure of it. She just never expected to see them again so soon.

“And who are you exactly?” Lena asked, bracing herself for the inevitable answer as she walked with deliberate steps past both reporters.

“Oh I’m Kara--Kara Danvers. I’m not with the Daily Planet, I’m with--” she took a noticeable pause to gather her thoughts, her voice shaking slightly as she continued, “CatCo magazine, actually.”

That name. The wind rushed out of Lena’s lungs as if she’d been punched, leaving only the echo of that name going off in her head. Lena stared at her, then, trying to see through this identity game, but failing to understand what Kara was playing at. Was it a confession, or a coincidence? Lena didn’t believe these types of things would ever be left up to chance, but she found it incredibly unnerving that Supergirl would blurt out her real name and then stroll into her office the following day to announce herself in the same manner. Lena narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, focusing back on the topic at hand. She would have to wait a little longer to detangle who she was really speaking to.

“That’s a publication not known for it’s hard hitting journalism,” Lena scoffed at Kara’s credentials, rolling her eyes. She didn’t believe for a minute that Kara was here for a CatCo article at all, but rather to sleuth around her office for evidence as part of her side job protecting National City. The thought left a bad taste in her mouth. “More like high-waisted jeans, yes or no?”

“Fashion crisis or world crisis, we tend to cover anything particularly newsworthy,” Kara responded easily, her voice tentative, but growing in assurance. She caught Lena’s harsh stare and swallowed. “I--I think this situation qualifies.”

Lena’s ears perked up at the way Kara asserted herself. That same bravado, that same bright confidence. The similarities would be laughable, if it wasn’t directed unfavorably at her.

“Some steel under that cheery pastel sweater,” Lena replied, eyeing the reporter’s choice in her own school girl fashion. The idea that this unbreakable hero was hiding beneath a pink cardigan made Lena’s lips curl as much as it made her heart swell. But, at the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was Kara-- Supergirl’s-- way of coming clean. She leaned back in her chair and offered a small smile. “Luthor wasn’t always my last name, you know.”

Kara’s eyes softened as Lena began to explain about her family: the way Lex made her feel proud to be a Luthor, with his immediate acceptance and brotherly love. The way his reign of terror on Metropolis deeply scarred more than just Superman. The way she came to National City vowing to take back her family’s company. It was an attempt to clear her conscience as much as it was a way to show Kara the cards in her hand. A truce. Supergirl had showed hers, whether inadvertently or not, and Lena felt this would even the playing field, paving the way for the real truth to eventually reveal itself.

“I’m renaming my company L-Corp, making it a force for good. I believe we’ve all had enough secrets, enough cover ups...” Lena paused, staring at Kara as if she was the only one in the room. She had completely forgotten about Clark, choosing to speak only to the one she felt could truly hear her. She caught Kara’s hands twisting around her notebook at her comments, and it only reinforced her point. “I’m just a woman trying to make a name for herself outside of her family. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah,” Kara was fast to answer, but it had an underlying sincerity that made Lena’s heart flip. Kara offered a small smile before exchanging a quick, hesitant glance at Clark. The action immediately drew Lena’s attention back to the situation as it was. An interrogation from two undercover Kryptonians.

Clark clenched his jaw, and Lena made another peace offering by providing the thumb drive that contained all the files about the part of the Venture that exploded. It was the best she could do.

“I hope this helps you in your investigation,” she said sincerely. “I’m here for a fresh start, Mr. Kent. Let me have one.” Her brow furrowed with the heaviness of her request.

He nodded stoically, holding the drive in his hands.

“Good day, Ms. Luthor.”

She nodded in response, turning slowly to Kara and eyeing her one final time.

“I hope this isn’t the last time we talk,” she offered, remembering how Supergirl promised they would see each other again. Something deep inside pulled at her to keep the line of communication open with Kara, whoever she turned out to be.

“I hope not either,” Kara eventually responded, her mouth hanging slightly agape before closing. Lena swore she saw her cheeks flushing a noticeable crimson, but she couldn’t look into it too deeply, since the entire situation had been stressful for everyone. “Good day, Ms. Luthor.”

Just as the two exited her office, Lena stared at her closed door, breathless and alone with her thoughts.

“Good day, Supergirl…” she whispered, closing her eyes just long enough to capture the image of Kara’s dazzling smile.

It had been nearly two weeks since Lena had seen Kara, in any capacity. The weeks passed peacefully, absent of violence or danger. She felt tense with the looming inevitability of Lex making another threat on her life, especially after Supergirl had stepped in to save her. Every day felt like it could be the one when he struck again.

What she had not expected was for Kara to visit her as Kara. When the knock came at her office door, she thought Jess might have received a budget or scheduling request she needed to attend to, but she had not anticipated a guest. Kara strolled in behind Jess and Lena was witness to their friendly parting, stunned into silence.

After Jess departed, Lena continued to look on expectantly, until Kara situated herself in front of Lena’s desk. She was just as warm and radiant, dressed in the same cheery fashion as the day she and her Kryptonian cousin, Clark Kent, stopped by. “Jess came all the way up here with you,” Lena noted aloud.

“She and I were chatting,” Kara confirmed with a bright smile. “She said your schedule was really light today and that it was the perfect time to come by.”

Lena narrowed her eyes in confusion as she observed that Kara had nothing with her aside from her clutch. “Did something happen that requires a comment from me?” Lena asked, with nothing jumping to mind.

Kara beamed. “No, I am not here for work,” she chirped. “I did get promoted to journalist, though,” she announced.

“Oh, I did not see your name on the byline of Mr. Kent’s article, so I wasn’t sure you were interested in journalism.”

“Actually, talking to you really helped me to realize that it was a career I truly wanted to pursue,” Kara stated. After a length of silence in which Lena spent trying to determine how she had been an influencing factor, Kara continued. “The truth is not always what is on the surface or the most direct jump. People expect you to be Lex, to do as he did, but the truth is something else. And that is what I want to show people.”

“That’s-” It was not often that Lena could not find an immediate response, but Kara was proving to be unpredictable. “I am glad you found your calling,” she offered. She was put more at ease as she watched Kara shift her weight. They were both traversing uneven ground with each other. “But an email would have been sufficient to express your gratitude,” she assured. “Not that you’re unwelcome; I prefer you to most of my visitors,” she added as an afterthought, with a wry smile.

“I’m flattered, but I am actually here to take you to lunch,” Kara said.

“What?” Lena frozen by the deeply ingrained doubt. No one, especially a Super, would offer anything without an ulterior motive. Not to a Luthor.

“You just moved to National City, right?” Lena nodded slowly. “So, I figured I could show you one of the best spots to grab lunch.” She could not find the signs she expected to see - no hesitation, no excessive blinking, no slip in word choice. Instead there was a lightness to Kara’s smile, like it was the most natural thing to take Lena to lunch.

Lena’s first instinct was to decline. “I don’t think-”

Kara cocked her head with a knowing grin. “Remember, I already confirmed that your schedule was light today,” she stated. Her stance widened and her shoulders pulled back slightly. She was open and she was challenging Lena, playing off Lena’s pride. It felt like a trick an old friend would play. A moment later, she shrugged and her expression became more sober. “If you don’t want to join me, that is something I will respect.”

It was that last statement that truly caught Lena. It was knowing that if she declined, Kara would, without hesitation, walk out. “I’ll humor you,” Lena granted.

Kara’s brilliant smile returned and Lena had to hide the way her breath caught in her throat. “Awesome! It’ll be my treat!”

Lena’s brow furrowed. “That is not necessary,” she said, before she considered how it might come across.

Kara’s face slowly fell and Lena feared she had soured the mood, but then Kara’s thoughts caught up with her. “I didn’t mean to imply that you would only join if I paid,” Kara promised. “You can grab the next one,” she offered with soft smile.

Lena shook her head, endlessly baffled by how innocent Kara seemed. “Let me just put up a notice for my email and phone that I am out of the office.” Kara stepped back and waited patiently. “How far are we going,” Lena asked as she rose, “should I call my driver?”

Kara chuckled. “We can walk,” she said.

“I get enough exercise running for my life,” Lena grumbled dryly. Kara’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. “What? You might have to take a bullet for me.” Lena’s lips curled sarcastically, as she quirked a perfectly manicured brow in Kara’s direction.

“Stop,” Kara breathed a shallow laugh. “We’re just going to Noonan’s.”

Lena dispensed with the dramatics and smoothed the front of her suit jacket. “Is my attire appropriate?”

Kara’s brows rose comically. “No one at Noonan’s will give anyone’s outfit a second glance. If anything, you’d be overdressed,” she beckoned Lena around the desk. “Let’s get going before you spend your entire lunch stalling.”

Lena rolled her eyes, but joined her with a smile and a feeling of lightness, unburdened by expectation. At Noonan’s, Kara led Lena up to the counter to order. “They mostly do sandwiches, but there are soups and salads, if those are more your thing,” Kara explained. Lena picked out a salad from the menu and followed Kara to a table in the corner. Kara was practically purring as she eyed her foot long. “It is lucky that we are doing this on a Wednesday. It’s the only weekday they offer bacon for sandwiches,” she drooled.

“Is there a single vegetable in that?” Lena asked with a furrowed brow.

Kara had been just about to bite into the sandwich, but looked up sheepishly and moved it away from her open mouth. “Does the wheat in the bread count?”

Lena pursed her lips and cocked a brow. “By the original botanical definition, but I was asking if there was anything leafy or green,” she intoned.

Kara bit her lip and smiled guiltily. “Its roast beef, bacon, cheddar, and American cheese,” she admitted.

“That is a lot of protein,” she marveled. “Are you planning to go into battle or something?” she asked, through a laugh.

Lena was so certain that Kara was the Kara, but if she was mistaken, it was not her place to divulge Supergirl’s name. She could hardly be more explicit in her prying without dropping the actual question. She wondered if Kara would continue to hide her identity.

Kara looked incredulous. “No,” she asserted and Lena mentally shook her head, “I just like feeling like I actually ate something when I eat.” Kara took an overambitious bite and struggled to chew it while Lena attempted not to crack a smile. At the same time, Lena had to wonder how Kara even kept her own secret, considering her honest nature and the disguise she used. It was a pair of glasses and a different hair style, so the fact that it worked was as amusing as Kara’s shenanigans. By the time Kara managed to swallow her food, both of their chests heaved with uncontained laughter.

“Take it slower or this is going to turn into a visit to the ER, and my schedule can’t handle that kind of detour,” Lena wheezed as she regained her breath.

“So,” Kara had already started in on her sandwich once more, “what has you busy at work? Any interesting projects?”

Lena cocked a brow. “You haven’t done your homework on me yet?”

Kara pouted and Lena was certain she had just learned how Kara got away with things. “I am very new to journalism,” she grumbled.

Lena wondered what held Kara back from admitting her identity. It was not that she did not understand keeping secrets, but after her slip, what was the point? Not to mention how Kara had sought her out for lunch. It made no sense to ignore what happened while simultaneously getting close to Lena.

“Let’s turn the tables,” Lena suggested with a small smirk. “Tell me about yourself.”

Kara licked her lips. “What do you want to know?”

Lena froze. She could not tell if Kara was inviting her to ask about Supergirl. Kara looked small, despite her strength. “Well,” Lena started, “you work for CatCo, but are newly a journalist. What did you do before?”

Lena watched the weight lift from Kara’s shoulders and knew she had made the right choice. She realized that perhaps a better tactic for having the truth come out would be to hint that she knew, rather than try to get Kara to say it. “Oh, well, I worked as Cat’s assistant for a time, and before that I worked here, actually,” she motioned to the shop around them.

Kara was so expressive, so open, and Lena found it oddly charming. “You do seem like a people person,” Lena acknowledged. “I assume you were a teller,” she guessed.

“Oh, yeah, I would not have done well prepping the food, especially the bread.”

“Oh, cooking is not your thing?” Lena bit her lip, noting the way Kara looked down at her lap, abashedly.

“I wouldn’t say there is nothing I can make,” Kara shrugged as her eyes rose once more, “but I am better at reheating food, in general.”

“Remind me to make you something, some time,” Lena offered, before she realized that she was implying a future for their relationship.

Kara lit up, her grin wide and toothy. “I will be sure to,” she promised.

By the time Lena made it back to her office, hours had gone by. Jess watched her walk to the elevator with a smug expression. Lena shook her head as the doors closed. It was surprisingly easy to talk to Kara and she was certain she would experience disappearing hours again. And she found that it did not seem daunting. She was even a little excited.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and eventually hesitant lunch dates gave way to full on movie marathons and Sunday brunches. Lena wasn’t sure how it happened, exactly, or when her indestructible walls came crumbling down. Maybe it was that first introduction, or maybe it was inevitable. Maybe a Luthor and a Super - even if Kara refused to acknowledge that part yet - were always destined to be entangled in each other’s lives. Whatever the case, Lena Luthor found herself less a party of one, and more part of something bigger than her, and suddenly the weight of the world seemed to be shared across another pair of strong shoulders.

She glanced up from her desk to where Kara was currently curled up on her office couch, her forehead crinkled in concentration as she typed away on her own laptop. It had become understood that Lena’s office was actually now the place where they both did work -- an unspoken routine that started with an open door policy and never seemed to end. Kara kept showing up and Lena kept selfishly indulging, and that’s how she found herself on this particular Thursday with quiet company on her couch providing a warm sense of comfort without saying a word.

Kara was certainly tricky like that. She might not have been stealthy with her identity, but the way she slowly and effortlessly fit herself into Lena’s life, filling the deep crevices in Lena’s heart that she barely even knew were there, was definitely one of her smoother attributes. One minute, this relative stranger was stammering in Lena’s office, trying to get through an interview, and the next, she was teasing Lena about her healthy eating habits as if it was second nature and suggesting ridiculous adventures for the two to partake in together.

Together. It was something Lena never thought she would have -- a best friend to call all the time whenever she wanted, for any reason or no reason whatsoever. It was the idea of having someone on the other end of the phone who picked up for her unconditionally that she simply couldn’t get used to. All her life, she had tried so hard not to rely on anyone. People always left or disappointed her, or, more likely, she disappointed them, and it always ended with the same lonely despair. But Kara was different. Kara was special.

A knock on the door broke through Lena’s thoughts, as Jess shuffled in with bags of take out.

“Ms. Luthor, they brought up your order.” She announced, handing her the bag with a smile.

“Thank you, Jess,” Lena responded, slowly rounding the corner of her desk to take the bag from her assistant. “Yours should be in there too.”

Jess smiled brightly and peered into the bag, pulling out her own container and nodding her head. “Thank you!”

Lena nodded and offered a small smile as Jess took her food and exited. She no sooner left than Kara bounded off the couch and practically lept across the floor.

“You ordered lunch!” Kara exclaimed, her eyes widening with excitement. “Oh and you got the good potstickers! How did you know I was craving them?”

“Kara, I’ve known for a long time that these are your Kryptonite,” Lena said with a teasing smirk, taking the container out of the bag and holding it out for Kara’s eager hands.

Kara hesitated, her mouth hanging open as her eyes shifted from Lena to the carton and back in quiet panic, like she was caught in a moment that she didn’t know how to handle.

Part of Lena delighted in this dilemma. Kara was a lot of wonderful things, but she was also frustratingly oblivious to the fact that Lena knew who she was. It was becoming harder and harder the closer they became for Lena to restrain herself from bringing it up. Kara never mentioned her introductory faux pas ever again, and Lena felt it was now way too late to ask. So they danced on eggshells while Lena pretended to look the other way when Kara put dents in pure metal objects, and faked temporary deafness when Kara uttered odd phrases that could only be from another world.

But despite her desire to respect Kara’s secret, she couldn’t help but tease the fact that she knew, just to see Kara’s reactions. They were flustered and adorable and so terribly Kara that it had become her own personal game to see just how far she could push without going over the edge.

“I --Aren’t you going to eat?” Kara asked, her mouth already full with more potstickers than was actually humanly possible. She was eyeing Lena with concern, and Lena realized she had left her own food untouched in front of her while getting lost in her whirlwind of thoughts about Kara.

“Well, I am human,” Lena conceded, rolling her eyes jokingly, a sly grin on her face. She reached for her salad and took off the lid, noticing Kara’s eyes widen slightly at the comment.

“I--me...too?” Kara responded, her voice raising slightly, ending it more like a question than a declaration. She seemed to miss Lena’s slight joke. “I mean of course I am, right? Not that you asked.”

“I had assumed, Kara,” Lena grinned, twisting her fork between her fingers and refusing to meet Kara’s eyes. “Though with all your talent, you can’t blame others for suspecting otherwise.”

“Me? No way--” Kara scoffed, waving her hand with a nervous flutter, “I’ve got average strength, average hearing,” she shrugged, tilting her head a bit, “less-than-average vision.” She adjusted her glasses with a small laugh to emphasize her point.

They were treading into dangerous territory here, but Lena couldn’t help herself. Kara was borderline uncomfortable, but still putting up a ruse, and it only made Lena spit out more teasing jokes and mixed metaphors. She knew she shouldn’t keep going, but she couldn’t seem to stop it.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I think your qualities are rather... super.” Lena finished, her eyebrows raised knowingly. Kara seemed to freeze as soon as she spoke, her mouth slightly agape, before snapping it closed. Lena could see the muscles in her jaw clench as she stared back at her intently. Their eyes locked on each other for what felt like an eternity, Kara unblinking, and Lena refusing to look away.

“For Rao’s sake Lena!” Kara finally huffed, throwing her hands down on the table with a loud thud. Lena startled at the sound, and the way Kara’s eyes blazed as she stared at her with an unrecognizable gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Lena asked, slightly unnerved by Kara’s outburst, but trying to act nonchalant.

“I know you know!” Kara exclaimed, pointing at her enthusiastically. It wasn’t accusing, necessarily, but it was a strong breakdown of the final wall standing between them.

“Know what, Kara? You’re going to have to be more specific,” Lena insisted, tauntingly, refusing to admit anything until she heard Kara say it out loud first. She crossed her arms, clutching at them in soft defiance.

Kara stood up quickly and began pacing, her hands fluttering wildly as she tried to find where to begin. She started and stopped several sentences before turning and staring at Lena, her hands on her hips in that signature, can’t-miss Supergirl pose.

“You know who I am,” Kara said softly, the confession hanging between them delicately.

“I believe I do,” Lena acknowledged, nodding her head slowly and watching Kara. “But I’m going to need to hear you say it first.”

Lena wasn’t upset, not really. She acknowledged that Kara had been technically lying to her, but she also understood why, for the most part. It was more a matter of getting rid of this unnecessary awkward tension between them, and now that the Supergirl question was on the table, she felt emboldened to finally seek the truth.

Kara’s cheeks flushed, as she adjusted her glasses again and stared harshly at the floor. Her lips were twisted, and the crinkle between her brow shown through strongly as she considered her words. Lena waited patiently.

Finally, with a flourish of movements, Kara removed her glasses entirely, and unbuttoned her shirt to reveal the familiar crest that Lena knew was always there. She could feel her heart as it began to race, which came unexpectedly, even though it really shouldn’t have. Lena’s eyes traveled down over Kara, and back up, taking it all in, because it was one thing to know and another thing entirely to witness. She swallowed thickly, her mouth dry, as she desperately tried to find the words to explain that it was okay.

It had somehow always been okay.

Kara’s eyes locked on hers, as she sheepishly buttoned up her shirt and ran her hands nervously through her hair.

“So that’s---” Kara began, shifting awkwardly side to side, “That’s me.”

“Finally,” Lena breathed, the relief taking over her in waves. She felt the smile etch itself across her face as she looked at Kara gently.

“You’ve always known?” Kara asked skeptically.

“Well you did introduce yourself to me when we first met, though I am under the impression you were hoping I didn’t hear that bit,” Lena grinned, knowingly.

“It just slipped out! I hadn’t expected--” Kara’s eyes widened at that, as she gestured over Lena. It was a curious reaction, and one Lena didn’t quite understand, as Kara’s fumbling hand returned back to her own face. “I hadn’t expected-- you.”

“A Luthor?” Lena’s eyebrow raised defensively, as she surveyed Kara again.

“No, just you. You caught me by surprise, that’s all,” Kara explained. “In a good way!” she added quickly, waving her hands in reassurance.

“Is that why you didn’t tell me right away?” Lena asked, wondering if Kara truly ever intended on telling her without being provoked. The thought made her self-doubt rise to the surface with disturbing force.

Kara seemed to ponder before responding carefully.

“Super heroes get scared sometimes, too,” she said quietly. Lena’s heart lurched at the unexpectedly vulnerable answer. She nodded. If anything, she understood fear, more than she would ever like to admit.

Lena simply shook her head in response, willing to let Kara off easy now that she had already confessed everything Lena needed to hear. She held out her hand, and Kara stared down at it for a quick second before smiling and extending her own.

“It’s nice to meet you, officially, Supergirl,” Lena said softly, taking Kara’s hand in her own. It felt right, and a part of her heart that had often been ignored seemed to come alive as their eyes met truthfully for the first time.

“I’m still Kara. Kara Zor-El, actually,” Kara said calmly, gently holding Lena’s hand. “And I’m really happy to meet you, Lena Luthor.”

Once the last wall between them had fallen, Lena couldn’t help but allow herself to be pulled into Kara’s never ending warmth. There was so much light, and so much good within her that Lena felt like maybe, just maybe, some of it would wrap around her, too.

It’s how she found herself opening up more to Kara, and sharing things she ordinarily would have kept to herself, out of fear of being used, or worse, rejected. But with Kara entrusting her with her own deepest secret and not asking for anything in return, Lena felt like she could breathe a little easier. It was how she found herself rambling to Kara about projects that weren’t going just right, or telling her about her hopes for the future. It was how she found herself standing outside of Kara’s apartment one day, as she had so many days before, with news to share, and Kara being the only person she could think to tell.

Lena raised her hand to knock on Kara’s apartment door, but as her knuckle would have made contact, the door opened to reveal a broadly grinning Kara. Lena’s hand travelled uselessly over the threshold, but as she realized what had happened, she pulled it back.

“Oh, sorry, I saw you coming,” Kara pointed at the hallway through the wall, smiling sheepishly.

Lena shook her head, dismissing the apology. She stepped into the apartment and headed straight for the kitchen island. The space was so familiar at that point, after many nights spent watching movies or chatting over food.

“Smells good,” she noted, inhaling deeply. “Are you cooking?”

Kara pouted. “No, mom brought chili over and there is a lot of it.” She sidled up to the stove to check on its progress.

“Well, you seem to be doing a damn good job of reheating it,” Lena chuckled and Kara shot a glare over her shoulder.

“I was expecting it to be done before you got here, but it seems to like taking its sweet time,” she grumbled. Lena watched as she pulled her glasses down her nose and then directed a concentrated beam of heat vision into the crockpot.

“Is that how you usually cook your food,” Lena tried to seem less concerned than she was.

“Basically cook it from the inside out,” Kara explained with a nod, when she had turned away from the dish. “It’ll be cool enough to eat in a moment,” she said.

Lena nearly swallowed her tongue when Kara picked up the dish barehanded, before reminding herself that she had no reason to worry.

“You alright?” Kara asked, brows bunched in mild concern. “Your heart’s a little fast.”

The veil between them had only recently been lifted, so it was new for Kara to be so casual about her powers. “Yeah, no, I’m good,” Lena assured. “I just have news,” she diverted.

“Oh?” Kara bit her lip as she waited for Lena to share.

“There was a big stuffle in the board seats, after the McGregor scandal I uncovered last month,” she recalled the long week of back to back nights spent on the office couch. Kara had insisted on bringing her all her meals to make it easier for her.

“And? Did you snag any of the seats?” Kara shifted her weight, excited but nervous, for her.

Lena held a straight face for as long as she could, watching the rising anticipation. “I have the majority,” Lena announced with a wide grin.

“Oh Rao, that is awesome!” Kara burst out, her excitement lifting her inches off the ground to hover as she spun in a victory dance. “Come here!” She spread her arms wide and Lena shook her head as she rose from her seat.

Usually when they hugged, they would each have one arm over the other’s shoulder, but Kara’s arms wrapped around her midsection and then Lena found her feet off the ground and let she out a startled gasp. Lena instinctively clutched Kara’s shoulders and her heart jumped into her throat, but as Kara giggled happily, she felt herself relax. Kara was so steady on her feet, unencumbered by Lena. She moved smoothly, without having to compensate, and it was baffling. And with such a display of strength, Lena was expecting to feel uncomfortable or too tight, but there was such care.

The presence of both unfathomable power and unrivaled self control should have felt contradictory, but Kara made it seem so natural. Kara was gentle, always. And as Lena regained her feet and got a glimpse of Kara’s broad grin, she felt her stomach flutter. She felt light around Kara and it was so freeing. She realized she never wanted to be without it.

It had not been as apparent before Kara had told her that she was Supergirl. Kara was still closed off, but having it out in the open was all it took for Kara to truly be herself. Lena had sometimes tried to imagine what it would feel like for someone to trust her fully or get passed her being a Luthor, but had never expected it to be possible. It made every breath she took feel important. She felt full and warm. With Kara, she was herself. Just Lena.

They were each complete. Lena was whole by herself, but with Kara it was easier to recognize.

A warmth blossomed in her and spread through her until her whole body was alight. It made her forget the buzz from her success at LCorp. Kara’s grin was contagious. All she wanted to do was smile and she felt the urge tug at her until not even biting her lip could hold it in.

“This calls for a celebration,” Kara declared, as Lena took off her heels.

“No, we don’t have to do anything special.” Lena did not need anything more.

“Come on, I keep alcohol in the apartment for you and Alex, so it would be a waste if we never used it to celebrate,” Kara laughed as she went into the cupboard over the fridge. “And I will even break out something I can drink,” she produced a small cylindrical bottle with an yellow liquid that Lena might have mistaken for a thin juice.

“I didn’t know there was anything you could drink,” Lena commented.

“This is Aldebaran Rum,” Kara explained. “It doesn’t come from Krypton, although I am sure we got it imported. But I didn’t try it until Alex brought me to an alien bar downtown.”

“There is an alien bar?”

“Yeah, and they have an impressive stock,” Kara poured herself a small glass and offered Lena a bottle of scotch. “I think a number of the drinks they offer, like this one, are fatal to humans though,” Kara warned with a small shrug.

“I won’t experiment with any of it, then,” Lena chuckled.

“M’gann could point you toward the ones that aren’t dangerous, but I don’t know if any of them would work like alcohol,” Kara mused.

“Perhaps I will leave the drinks for the people who want a taste of home,” Lena decided aloud and Kara beamed. Lena looked down at the bottle in her hand. “Is this Lagavulin?”

“It is. I noticed that you have a bottle at home and you only drink it when you seem to be in a particularly good mood,” Kara divulged. “So, I figured you liked it.”

Lena nodded. “Lex got me the bottle, for getting my doctorate.” It brought her warm memories of her brother, untainted by his crime.

“I saw it was getting low,” Kara continued to explain.

Lena felt her chest squeeze. She put the bottle aside. She looked Kara in the eye and tried to conjure words that fit what she was feeling. She finally whispered, “thank you.” She stepped forward and reached her fingers out for Kara’s shirt. She tugged lightly and willed Kara to offer a hug. She never initiated them, herself, because she was never sure what was too friendly.

Kara seemed oblivious to her struggle and hummed a soft chuckle. She pulled Lena into another hug. Without her heels, Lena was shorter than Kara and she tucked her forehead into Kara’s neck. Kara’s body was warm. Her arms enveloped Lena’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Lena repeated.

“Of course,” Kara cooed. She leaned her cheek against Lena’s head. It was then, while they embraced, that Lena realized she wanted there to be a future for them. She knew she felt something for Kara. She was drawn in by her strength and held by her care. And until she could put a name to her feelings, it was Lena’s turn to have a secret.

Friends.

That’s exactly what Lena and Kara were, and most of the time, it was enough.

They had finally reached a point where there was comfort on both sides -- no more secrets, no more hiding. At least, that’s what Lena tried to tell herself.

They were best friends, really, and Lena knew it. It was something she could finally rest her head against. Something firm, and something absolutely, wholly hers. She felt it settle deep in her heart, like one of Kara’s perfectly controlled but perfectly warm hugs. It was the one bright light in Lena’s life, and the one thing she was determined not to let flicker with unnecessary burdens, like complicated feelings.

But she couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered when Kara walked into her office on unassuming weekdays with coffee and an easy smile, or the way her chest tightened when Kara would sidle up next to her on the couch, their legs touching slightly as they relaxed with a favorite movie after a long day. She felt her life continue to seamlessly intertwine with Kara’s, and each day that passed brought a longing to put significant words to these feelings. Lena felt a confession of her deepest desires itching at the back of her throat like a persistent and determined cough, one that she was forced to swallow down.

Kara, meanwhile, seemed unencumbered, and just as open, just as genuine and just as hopeful as she had always been, which made Lena feel like her extra feelings were not necessarily reciprocated. There was no fumbling, no awkwardness, just steady and patient Kara, pouring brightness into every corner of Lena’s darkest days.

“Lena?” Kara asked, startling her from her mindless tangent. Lena shook her head and looked up from her laptop, noticing Kara standing at her door with a coy smile. “I knocked a few times, but you were...distracted….” she trailed off, entering tentatively, her eyes shining almost knowingly.

“Busted,” Lena grinned, shutting her laptop quickly. She didn’t want Kara to see the photos she had been staring at, of the two of them eating ice cream together in the park a few weeks ago. It was a selfie Kara insisted they take, and Lena would never admit out loud to cherishing. She glanced up and focused fully on Kara. “I’m sorry Kara -- did we have plans this afternoon?”

“Nope! Not written down, anyway. I just came by to give you these!” Kara exclaimed, producing a small bouquet of delicate lilies from behind her back, wrapped carefully to protect the petals. Lena assumed Kara wanted to shield them from the wind, as she was fairly confident she knew how Kara got to her office this afternoon.

“These are...you didn’t have to do this. What’s the occasion?” Lena asked, her eyebrows furrowed, as she reached out to take the flowers from Kara’s outstretched hand. She tried to scan through her memory, going through all the significant dates in her life, but came up completely empty.

Kara simply grinned.

“You sounded really down yesterday and stressed out about everything here, so I just thought these would cheer you up. They’re flowers for a friend just because!” Kara smiled earnestly, adjusting her glasses and continuing to stare up at Lena.

Lena’s heart fluttered predictably, the way it always did when Kara went out of her way to make her feel special for no reason whatsoever. She bit her lip to keep them from trembling as she busied herself with unwrapping the bouquet.

“A friend,” Lena repeated, eyes jolting upwards. The word felt strange on her tongue, like it didn’t quite belong. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice quivering, as she felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. It wasn’t that she was sad - in fact, it was completely the opposite. Kara’s small gestures were so much that she didn’t know what to do with the emotions.

“That’s what friends are for!” Kara said, her smile stretching across her face, crinkling the corners of her eyes in the way it always did.

There it was, again. That staunch reminder of their status, landing like a small punch to the stomach. It was comforting, as much as it was maddening. Lena bit the inside of her cheek and smiled a tight-lipped, anxious smile in return. It was Kara’s default response, the answer she always gave for everything that involved them. A proclamation to push aside any of the questions when hugs lingered too long, or gestures seemed too grand.

“I’ve never had...friends...like you before,” Lena said carefully, the words slow to come out as she pondered what constituted an acceptable act of friendship and what was considered more. Perhaps she really was mistaking her feelings as romantic instead of just genuine regard for Kara. Her eyes slowly rolled over the soft features of Kara’s face, studying the creases and lines from laughter and the delicate slope of her jaw, before finally landing on the perfect pout of her lips. Lena felt a need deep in her stomach stir and twist with want as she ached to feel what Kara’s lips would feel like on her own.

That wasn’t a very friendly thought, no matter how hard she tried to spin it, she realized.

“Well, now you have someone who will be here for you, always,” Kara finished, nodding, apparently satisfied at herself for making Lena’s day.

Lena didn’t answer, choosing instead to busy herself with the flowers. She ran her fingers gently over the soft petals, contemplating when the last time she got flowers actually was. She bought them for her office consistently, yes, and gave them to others often, but receiving them as a gift? Certainly not from a friend. The thought was depressing, and confusing.

But there was Kara, all warm smiles and significant gestures, listening when Lena talked and paying attention to her moods and her stories, and it just felt like so much more than friends, but Lena didn’t have enough people in her life to really make a fair assessment. But she knew enough, and felt enough in her gut that this was deeper, somehow.

“So I had a thought,” Kara began, interrupting Lena’s fretful thoughts once more. “I was hoping, maybe, if you weren’t busy like, tonight or something that I could take you to dinner! Or like, we could go out-- to dinner I mean.” Kara sheepishly looked up at Lena, blinking rapidly, while wringing her fingers. It was a habit Lena knew Kara only did when she was extremely nervous.

But why was she nervous?

“There’s this Chinese place I’ve been wanting to try, because I hear the potstickers are amazing!” Kara explains, adjusting her glasses and gesturing wildly.

“Ah yes, those potstickers of yours,” Lena raised her eyebrow, not understanding why Kara was acting more anxious than usual, when it seemed the request came back to her usual beloved delicacy.

“We don’t have to go now! We can go whenever you’re ready. Or later! I can pick you up? If you’d like?”

“No take out this evening?” Lena asked, only half joking, as she found the entire conversation taking an awkward turn. Perhaps she was right to reconsider their relationship. Kara seemed to be fumbling on the brink of something, but then pulling back at the last second.

“Oh, I mean, we can totally do that too! I just thought since we always get take out, maybe tonight could be something different. We could go out, make a night of it!” Kara shrugged and smiled.

“A night of it?”

“Yeah, you know, people do that, don’t they? Go out?”

“People do, yes,” Lena agreed tentatively, still unsure why this felt so much like a date and less like two friends hanging out. “This just seems...different.”

“Different?” Kara scrunched her nose and paused. “I mean, I guess it’s different, sure.”

They looked around awkwardly at each other, a strange tension filling the air before Lena couldn’t take it anymore. If there was one thing she hated, it was dancing around the point.

“Oh for Rao’s sake, Kara! What are we doing?” Lena exclaimed, her frustration bubbling to the surface before she could process it. Kara froze, her eyes wide, before a huge telling smile broke across her face.

“I….what did you just say?” Kara asked with a bemused expression.

“What are we doing?” Lena snapped, eyes flashing in a panic, desperate not to have to repeat herself. She didn’t think she had the words to explain this beyond vague intentions.

“No...I thought I heard…” Kara raised her eyebrows curiously. “Did you just say Rao?”

“Oh…” Lena bit her lip and paused. “Yeah, I guess I…. did…” She felt the blush creep along her cheeks as she processed what she had done. It was just another way Kara had crept into her life and made herself at home, and Lena hadn’t even noticed. She stifled a grin, before shaking her head. “Anyway, that’s not the point. Kara, seriously, what are we doing?”

“I thought we were figuring out plans for dinner, but maybe...not? We don’t have to get Chinese! We can go somewhere else. I just want to spend time with you.” Kara blinked up at her cautiously, and Lena felt her heart leap into her throat.

“You can’t keep saying things like that,” Lena breathed, her chest tightening with so much want, and so much confusion, that she had nowhere else to let it go. She felt stifled under the weight of it all. “Or doing things like this!” She gestured to the flowers.

“Saying things like what?” Kara asked. She seemed completely bewildered, and it only fueled Lena’s fire more.

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you!” She burst, instantly wincing at the sound of her own pent up secret being spilled over her lips. She bit her lip and turned away, her face hot with embarrassment. “I...that’s not quite what I meant to say…”

The silence hung between them heavily, and Lena wished the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. She eventually turned back to her desk, her back to Kara, because facing her nonexistent response was making everything worse.

“You don’t have to stay, Kara,” Lena said, the anger settling in her stomach as she ran her hand over the tense part of her neck. Everything she worked so hard not to ruin was crumbling around her because of her rambling mouth. “I understand if you want to go.”

There were a few more moments of deafening silence, and Lena wasn’t sure if Kara was even still in the room until she heard it. A gentle shuffle of feet, a quiet intake of breath.

“You can, if you want,” Kara said, so softly that Lena wasn’t sure she heard her correctly.

“What?”

“Kiss me. If you want to.” Kara repeated, her voice firmer this time.

“Do you want me to?” Lena turned around slowly, only to realize Kara was already standing dangerously close to her, her head tilted in thought.

She followed Kara’s eyes as they searched her own, silently begging, as they landed on her lips. Kara bit her own lip softly, before meeting Lena’s eyes again with an unmistakable expression on her face. Lena felt rooted to the spot, her heart pounding in her ears, her voice telling her frantically to do something, anything, before the moment faded. It was everything she had convinced herself she’d never have, and it was right in front of her for the taking.

“Lena…” Kara began, but Lena didn’t want to hear the rest. She pushed forward with all her strength, closing the gap between them before she could turn back. Their lips found each other instantly, causing a collision of intense softness and gentle desperation. Kissing Kara was what Lena imagined flying must be like, and she closed her eyes as she felt Kara’s mouth work pleasantly against her own. She could feel Kara actually smiling against her lips, and it made her stomach flutter in a way she had never felt before. She pulled back slowly, opening her eyes, catching the pout on Kara’s lips before she took a breath.

“Wow….” Kara exhaled, “I...that was…”

“Yeah,” Lena agreed, her lips still tingling with the feeling of Kara’s. “Wow.”

They stared at each other a little longer, the fresh realization dawning on both of them of their deeper feelings, released on the tips of lips without using words.

“So, about dinner…” Kara started, pushing her hair behind her ear carefully as she glanced at Lena with a hopeful expression.

“Is it just dinner?” Lena asked, her eyebrow raised in a playful challenge. She knew the answer she wanted to hear, and Kara’s sparkling eyes seemed to hint at a similar feeling.

“I think,” Kara stepped forward, running her fingers gently across Lena’s jaw, the sensation of which caused Lena to tremble. “That is entirely your prerogative.”

#fanfic #supercorp #kara x lena #collab #identity reveal #mssirey #so much funnnnnnnn to write #hope you enjoy #lena luthor #supercorpweek2k17 #kinda #collabtastic

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writetoremainsilent · 5 years

Text

10/15/19 the accompanying story 3

This one is called Ersatz. I don’t feel super confident about it, ‘cuz it’s kind of a deviation from the norm.

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The word ersatz is funny to me in that it seems antithetical to its own definition. Ersatz (pronounced air-sotts) basically means an inferior substitute for something. But I think the word ersatz is a better alternative for ersatz terms like worse, false, and artificial. It’s just so much more gut-punching. It’s a fancier upgrade from those blasé other words. There’s no room for misinterpretation. Anyway, enough about that.

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Her therapist had told her to treat sophomore year with a more open mind. Stop doubting. Start doing. She didn’t really leave any alternatives.

Her parents had told her that she was wasting her best years on feeling sorry for herself. ‘You’re fine, baby,’ they would say. ‘College makes everyone feel bad. This therapist is unnecessary.’ They didn’t really get it.

Her friends, if you could call them that, were dwindling. The few that tried to coax her into coming out with them did their best to show disappointment when she declined. They gave up, eventually. They didn’t really care.

Which was fine. She wasn’t really doing a great job on her end, either. She understood.

Despite the advice, despite the scolding, despite the concern, she just felt empty.

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She wasn’t exactly sure when, or why it started. Maybe it had been all of a sudden. Maybe it had been a slow burn.

She had been so self-assured in high school, just two years ago. She knew what she wanted from life, and usually ended up getting it. She only did, never doubted.

And now...

Lately, it felt like she was playing a parody of herself rather than actually being herself: she responded how she thought she would’ve responded, and engaged in activities that she thought she would’ve liked. Doubted every action she made.

A shoddy replica of the person she wanted to be. An ersatz mockery of the real thing. A hollow shell, a melancholy reminder, of whatever she had been before.

She realized that she hated herself. She saw herself crying as she sat alone, scarfing down sorry excuses for meals between classes. When she could stomach food. She felt herself losing weight because she was too tired to do anything besides sleep.

(running shoes lay fetal, just as motionless as she was)

Her housemates didn’t care much to talk to her. She was a random, and they had all been a friend group before she moved in.

Her friends weren’t real. They were satellites, orbiting cautiously around her, and stayed that way because she was too scared to let them get close to her, but too needy to let them drift away. She was ecstatic when they opened up to her, and devastated when they found better friends.

Her romantic endeavors were nonexistent. It should be said outright that she didn’t care for relationships. She understood attraction. She understood physical intimacy, though she didn’t really want it. But she could not wrap her head around meeting someone and basing one’s life around them. She did not want to give up her time for someone else. She did not want to share in someone else’s problems. She had enough problems already.

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Back in high school, she had had a best friend. They were like equal and opposite reactions. He was her exact counterpart: sharing humor, worldviews, and interests, but never sharing the same opinion as her. They eagerly argued about the same books and movies. They tried and failed to outwit the other. Their friends said they bickered like an old couple.

She still smiled as she recalled the many late nights they spent trying to do homework together, only to give up and watch T.V. instead. Just passing time with him made her feel good.

She was pretty sure it was love. She didn’t feel empty, back then. He was her everything. Fleeting thoughts of him would sprint through her head all day: a goofy laugh, a witty joke, a serious, handsome expression. Her lips would always curve into a smile at the thought of him, and she resented the effect he had on her.

Of course, it did help that he was terribly good looking. She would never have said so to his face, though. Like he needed the ego trip.

They didn’t talk anymore. They weren’t friends anymore. She had been stupid.

(what else is new)

It was like a cliché movie scene. High off of feelings, of nostalgia, of pent-up adoration, she had taken him aside on their senior night and confessed that she had feelings for him. That he felt like her soulmate. That she needed him to feel like herself. Back then, she only did, never doubted.

He held her shoulders gently and exhaled shakily. Equal and opposite clichés. Just like a movie scene, she was the first person he would ever come out to.

They could have remained friends. In fact, it was probably awful of her to have cut contact after he came out. Probably made him feel like garbage. Probably made him feel how she did. But it was too much for her to try and act like nothing had changed. She realized she had already thought of them as a couple. That best friends and lovers were interchangeable. Indistinguishable. She had expected too much, and it had scarred both of them.

The one silver lining was that she came to a very important realization: love, in all of its messy, convoluted, and emotionally exhausting glory, was merely a delusion that tangents from friendship.

A painful variation of what she had had with her best friend. A shoddy replica of companionship. An ersatz mockery of the real thing.

A meaningless reminder on how to lose your soulmate.

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As she ruminated on her sordid backstory for perhaps the five-hundred-millionth time, she felt herself coming fully to consciousness. She groaned and flipped over her phone, which lay buzzing by her head.

It was half past two. Both her classes for the day were already over. She had slept through the day without having once really fallen asleep. It was upsetting how routine this had become.

Her roommate was long gone, having started her day at 6:30 as usual. There was muffled laughter coming from the room next to her.

One of her other housemates had their boyfriend over, and they were both giggling while watching some stupid show. She was surprised the racket hadn’t woken her up sooner.

She groggily flopped out of her futon and oozed onto the carpet. She felt like jelly, but she swore she heard her knees creak when she moved her legs. Her roommate had left the window open (‘The weather is so lovely in fall!’) and cold air continued to spill into her room, making her teeth clatter against one another.

Through sheer force of will, she stood up, slammed the window shut, and went to the bathroom to start her day.

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She had been a pretty decent student in high school, so she acted how she thought she would have acted. She sat at the desk in her room and started leafing through a textbook that cost more than three sessions with her therapist. Idly, she mused that her parents found the book a worthwhile investment, but not their daughter’s sanity.

Another giggle sounded from the other room. She was starting to get annoyed.

She sighed and heaved all her school supplies into her backpack, and dressed to go out. Her baggy sweater and sweats made her look shapeless, and she smiled at the thought.

The walk to campus was uneventful. She realized upon reaching the library that she had put her headphones on, but forgotten to play any music. She shrugged and took them off. Music wasn’t fun anymore, anyway.

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The library was abuzz with other students also desperate to cram information between the folds of their brains. The constant white noise of backpacks unzipping, papers rustling, and students quizzing each other was kind of comforting for her. She preferred noise to no noise. She preferred crowded places to vacant ones. She didn’t like when things were empty.

The table she decided to sit at was far in the back of the building, where students were less intent on focusing and more interested in socializing. It definitely wasn’t conducive to a healthy study environment, but she didn’t care. Studying while others slacked off inspired her. She had to be better than someone.

She got out her laptop and notebook and started copying lecture slides down. She had no context for them, so she heaved her textbook out, as well. From the corner of her eye, she could see a boy ask to sit down next to a girl and started talking with her. From their body language and expressions, it seemed like they weren’t previously acquainted.

They were hitting it off, though. And why wouldn’t they? They were both happy, healthy, attractive individuals. The boy seemed a little shy, which made his initial approach all the more endearing. The girl was laughing at his jokes and making a few of her own. And after maybe ten minutes of talking, they both had their phones out and were exchanging contact information.

Upon seeing this, she rolled her eyes. A part of her found the whole courtship ritual cute, but she felt committed to deriding romance as a whole. A waste of time. An ersatz companionship. She wanted someone to talk to her like that understand that.

A couple of times freshman year, she had been like the girl she was now furtively observing. There had been boys who had miraculously taken notice of her. Asked to sit with her. Asked for her number. She loved the attention, though she did not do anything with it.

Gradually, the attention stopped. She did not want it to stop, but it did. She had been ecstatic when people took an interest in her. She was devastated when they found better people to care for.

Her inbox had been empty for a while, now.

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The budding couple she had been watching had left long ago. Others came and went as the hours waned on. She looked out the window once and was startled to see the street lamps flickering on and the horizon sporting a deep violet.

There weren’t many people left in the library. Even where she sat, the noise and conversation had significantly subsided.

But from the corner of her eye (which she made excellent usage of) she saw a lanky frame draw near.

Nearer.

Wait, too near.

The boy was standing right next to her. His lips moved, forming words, but she didn’t really register them. She took off her utterly silent headphones and made a quizzical expression. He looked familiar.

In a smooth, deep voice, the boy repeated his question:

‘Can I sit at this table?’

‘Uh, sure.’ Her voice was raspy from disuse. Her heart rate had quadrupled. ‘If you want to.’

He smiled disarmingly and put his things down, taking the seat directly across from her.

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Half an hour had passed, and she was sweating. The boy had stuck around, studiously scribbling into a notebook. He was looking more and more familiar, too. Which made no sense, because she didn’t know enough people for anyone to look similar to another. She cautiously watched him, taking note of his dark hair and symmetrical features.

The boy looked up from his laptop and laughed at her pensive expression, and she quickly averted her eyes.

She realized why he looked so familiar, though.

He was the spitting image of her best friend.

It was uncanny, actually. Her throat closed. She tried to steal glances at him occasionally, but his soft gaze always greeted hers, his brown eyes twinkling mirthfully.

After a few such interactions, his lips curled into a rosy smile

(just like his)

and he spoke.

‘Hey! I, uh, snuck a peek at your textbook, and I think we might be studying for the same class. Do you–would you wanna study together? Today’s lecture went completely over my head.’

His voice was so smooth. She could only hope she sounded nearly as effortless in her reply.

‘...Sure. That’d be nice.’

He beamed and walked around the table to sit next to her. And she suppressed her desire to melt into nothingness.

******************************************************************************

There were a few key differences, she thought, between the boy and her friend from high school.

The boy had asked to walk back with her, because it turned out they lived in complexes near one another. Who was she to say no? And so they ambled on, side by side. The streets were empty, and the crisp fall air nipped at their exposed necks and face.

They had gotten to talking, and he was very much an open book. She was ecstatic that he was so willing to talk to her about personal topics. And she was devastated when he affirmed that he was like this with most people.

Yes, only a few differences, but significant ones. The boy wasn’t nearly as quick-witted as her old friend had been. He had struggled the entire time with learning the class material, despite having attended class that day. She had to explain the lesson to him.

She had tried cracking a joke, a stupid pun, and he stared blankly at her with a puzzled, but friendly smile. She gave up on humor, after that.

And somehow, she could feel his openness by the way his face looked. There was no extra layer to his smile, no hidden depths in his eyes. She could tell that she was interacting with the entirety of him.

Her friend from high school had been mysterious, like he was guarding some painful secret that tortured and ate at him. Well, actually, that was what he had been doing. With this new boy, she did not need to do any work to see his secret sides. They came up naturally.

She felt awful for constantly comparing this boy to her friend from years ago, but she continued to do so.

The boy was talking about feeling sad and out of focus after his breakup, which had happened about a month ago. He had looked meaningfully at her when he mentioned that. Her heart skipped a beat, but she convinced herself that she was overthinking things.

It turned out that he had always been with someone since his sophomore year of high school. She smiled inwardly. He couldn’t handle being alone, either.

There was something about the night air, or the boy, or maybe just having someone’s attention that made her open up, too. She admitted that she didn’t understand love. That she thought it was a waste of time. That it was like getting a dog: investing in future pain and sadness.

He laughed at that last part. ‘You’re quite the cynic,’ he chided.

Her friend would’ve had an ironic, fourth-dimensional quip about how the term cynic came from a Greek word that meant dog-like.

But the boy continued. He confessed that he didn’t know what love really was, either. He just knew he needed to be with somebody to feel like somebody. And he needed to feel like somebody.

They fell into comfortable silence.

They had reached her apartment complex. She shyly waved goodbye, but the boy stopped her before she walked away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, and asked if they could please exchange contact information. For talking. About school.

(don’t do it don’t do it you’ll be such a hypocrite don’t do it please don’t)

She smiled and said that that would be very nice.

******************************************************************************

Her inbox was no longer empty. It now housed a hey there! how’s it going? :)

******************************************************************************

She tossed and turned in bed that night. She was thinking about the boy.

Why had he taken an interest in her? Why was he so easy to talk to? What did he see in her? Why did he have to look so much like–

–the fact that the boy might have taken an interest in her was the last key difference between him and her old friend. It confirmed that the boy was just second best. A stand-in. A replica. An ersatz mockery of a soulmate. A reminder of whom she had lost.

And that was okay.

Eyelids suddenly heavy, she fell into a deep sleep.

******************************************************************************

A month after they had met, the boy asked her out. They had been hanging out frequently to study together, get meals together, and just pass the time together. He made sure she was eating. That she was waking up in the mornings. She didn’t feel quite so empty around him.

Apparently, she made him feel like somebody, too. At least, he said as much. So she said yes. She hated herself, but she said yes. She was scared of losing him.

She knew she was setting herself up for failure. That it would end badly. That love would screw her over, again.

But she said yes.

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Having never been on a date before, she didn’t know what to expect. She kind of thought it would all crash and burn.

The food was nice. It was a fancier restaurant, so they shared a meal. She didn’t feel like eating much anyway, though. She was full off of a couple bites.

They didn’t really know what to talk about. Most of dinner was just them smiling at one another awkwardly. Sitting with one another. Ersatz companionship.

He paid for the bill (thank God) and they left. He took her hand and she resisted the urge to melt into nothingness.

He guided them to a part of campus that she wasn’t super familiar with. They sat on a bench there, side-by-side.

Empty words exchanged. Kind of sweet to hear, but that was about it.

Then he kissed her. She closed her eyes. Wasn’t bad. Wasn’t great. Too late to just stay friends.

******************************************************************************

One year after they had met, she had her last appointment with her therapist. She mentioned that things were getting serious between her and the boy. They were planning on living together after they graduated and found jobs. Her therapist had told her that their relationship was unhealthy. That it wasn’t love. That it was a shoddy imitation of it. That they were using one another as crutches. A reminder of their inability to live their own lives. The term codependency was thrown around quite a bit.

She decided to finally heed her parents’ advice.

******************************************************************************

Two years after they had met, she was heaving a suitcase onto his bed. He was smiling gently at her as she unpacked the last of her belongings for their shared apartment.

She was pretty sure she loved him. It was similar to what she’d felt for the better version before. She was able to feel without the constant fear of losing him, this time. He was her everything. His problems were hers. She didn’t feel empty when she was with him.

She was pretty sure it was love.

And she thought she was good for him, too. He was driven, focused. He always told her that she made him feel like somebody. She was happy to be of use.

He didn’t really tell her that he loved her, very often. But she could feel it through his actions. He stuck around because he had to have loved her.

******************************************************************************

Five years after they had met, they went out for dinner. He was paying, and she was thrilled. She kind of liked the big fuss he was making over it, especially because lately money wasn’t as easily come by for either of them. He didn’t usually make such gestures anymore.

A fancy restaurant. Like their first date. Roses and wine. They dressed to fit the part. He looked handsome in his black coat, which they both knew was a knockoff.

Prior to this anniversary, she had also done some research into gemstones. Diamonds. Not for any particular reason. She’d also left the tabs open on her computer for him to see. Not for any particular reason.

Here with him, she felt content. She felt a sense of pleasant inertia. She felt full to the brim. They had been looking for houses for a while, now, and she appreciated the routine. The safety of having someone to share her days with.

Briefly, she wondered if this feeling was her settling down

(or just settling)

and looked back up at him, smiling sweetly.

Dinner was served. They shared a meal. They didn’t talk too much.

It was there, after the plates had been whisked away and as the patrons began to dwindle that the boy, now very much a man, got out of his chair. He got down on one knee in front of her, and opened a small felt box that he produced from his breast pocket.

She grinned and felt, deep in her belly, the bubbling of what she thought was happiness.

She was nodding before he even asked the question, embarrassed to find tears rolling down her cheeks. Like a cliché movie scene. He laughed handsomely and slipped the beautifully shining ring onto her finger, and she raised it to the light to admire it.

The lack of discernible color, the lack of optical flaws, the obvious discrepancy in weight.

He had bought a fake diamond ring. Cubic zirconia, she recalled from her research. A shoddy replica. An ersatz mockery of the real thing.

She could feel something draining out of her, emptying her, and he hugged her, whispering sweetly, lovingly:

‘It reminded me of us.’

#short story #story

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